From the Desk of Viira Lehtola

Chapters

August 11th, 1011
August 20th, 1011
December 29th, 1013
August 12th, 1011
August 13th, 1011
August 14th, 1011
August 15th, 1011
August 17th, 1011
August 18th, 1011
August 19th, 1011
August 21st, 1011
August 22nd, 1011
August 23rd, 1011
August 30th, 1011
September 2nd, 1011
September 7th, 1011
September 21st, 1011
October 1st, 1011
November 15th, 1011
December 2nd, 1011
February 25th, 1012
May 12th, 1012
August 6th, 1013
July 11th, 1015
November 6th, 1016
September 1st, 1017
January 3rd, 1018
The End (part 1)
The End (part 2)
The End (part 3)

August 11th, 1011

Enough time has passed since I willed Ambrosius’ castle out of existence that the novelty of moving Barrad’s seat of power to the newly christened Viirium has become the endless drudgery of the logistics of moving. Of course I could work out of my tower but I’d prefer to keep that my private space. Viirium will be the hub for everything to come, and therefore, busy. In fact, it already is.

The rest of the Pentarchy has ceded their authority to me, but I still need to bring some of Ambrosius’ old lackeys to heel. Maybe I should have kept the old captain alive. Well the point is moot; I already talked to Ceadda, and he assured me he would have the army under control within the month.

While that’s all well and good, this is moving slower than I had hoped. The Machine’s energies have bestowed upon me unfathomable power, but yet I still cannot reliably control Barrad or the ponies within it at my whim. The inverse square law is a cruel mistress, but in lieu of omnipotence I shall endeavor to create a worthwhile facsimile.

The first order of business is to ensure obedience from the little commoner ponies of Barrad. They disgust me. If they were so unhappy with Ambrosius they should have seized power themselves. The fact they didn’t is enough evidence that they are useless for anything other than being an extension of my will. If I am to keep the engine of Viirad moving ever forward, all of them will need to be willing to live and die for me. I’m not so naive as to assume they will simply work 16 hours a day and charge enemy lines if I just ask them to. Most probably don’t even know my name and even under threat of death, they’ll simply do the minimum. I need something more.

Mind control presents itself as the obvious solution, but I’ve read enough on the subject to know that it will be a bit more complicated than casting a spell and having an army of loyal followers. I’ll have to check my library for spells on the topic.

I’ve found 2 books in my collection that have records of mind control spells. A paltry find, but the Royal Canterlot Library my tower is not. The first was an advanced textbook I took from a university in the Riverlands that covers the subject, but the page long ethics disclaimer preceding it was quite the bore. In the end it only describes one spell with enough detail for me to cast it: Pusuadere. It is an enchantment spell that causes those affected to be more likely to be persuaded of ideas and thus then to follow in action. A weak charm, but it is a place to start. Perhaps amplified it could have some benefit to me, but I worry about the lack of safeguards as to who is persuading the target. From my reading, anycreature could go up to someone under the influence of Pusuadere and convince them of whatever con they fancy - not ideal for my use.

The next book was from the collection of the former occupant of my tower. I never knew them, but it does seem like they were also of the penchant to collect rare magic tomes. I know not of the origin of the book, but it claims to be the journal of some Equestrian mage. More importantly, it seems the author had a habit of transcribing rare spells when she had the opportunity to. An important habit to have when such spells often draw the ire of authorities. Alongside them are notes after what appears to be a wholly insufficient amount of testing. Drawing broad conclusions after one or two tests? Absurd, but it fits with the author’s lack of skill made apparent from the banality of some of these observations.

That aside, it appears she has managed to copy down an interesting spell: Cogeria. According to this description, it induces a state of stupor in the subject, suppressing free thought and allowing another (any other creature, once again no safeguards) to command them as they please. She then notes frustration at trying and failing to get somepony to blend in as their normal self while still performing her commands. The subject understood the commands, even complex ones, but she had to clearly describe exactly the behavior she wanted. “Acting normal” comprises of a plethora of microbehaviors that she clearly wasn’t able to vocalize. An obvious drawback to the spell evident in its description, but the author of this journal wasn’t the brightest. She also notes a persistent vacancy to the eyes of the subject regardless of what she tried to command the subject to do, suggesting to me that subconscious behaviors are beyond the purview of this particular spell. Again I find the spell lacking. An army of drones could have limited applicability, but I don’t have the time to micromanage the multitudes individually. Adding safeguards so they only obey me is possible, but fundamentally, the axis in which this spell operates is incompatible with my vision. I require useful slaves who can act independently, not whatever this spell creates.

The variety I have found has been unsatisfactory. Unfortunately mind control spells are few and far between, and those I have read about I have not had the opportunity to transcribe. If only there was a better developed body of deer magic research, but alas, seers are far and few between. I would hazard a guess that even the libraries in Hjortland or Ostkranbi would be insufficient. I will need to widen my search. Perhaps Silver Star’s library will have something mine does not. He’s good enough company, but getting him to let me search his library for forbidden knowledge and then transcribe it for myself may be too much for his paranoia. I could simply misdirect him as I did before. A simple “They’re back!” would be enough to make him cower in his bathroom for enough time to find what I’m looking for. After all, a useful side effect of apotheosis has been speed reading. No that won’t do. He already agreed to step aside for me at the reactor. This will merely be a test of if he respects my new power.

Author's Note

I took these first spells from the episode "Every Little Thing She Does" as a starting point.

August 20th, 1011

I have teleported another batch of subjects into my laboratory for the beginning of memory trials. I found a small settlement of around a hundred and took every individual from it. They are subsistence farmers providing no benefit to Viirad besides a pool from which to get conscripts. I see this town also has a zebra family, and a griffon who appears to have married into a pony family. This is quite displeasing. For any real science to occur, I would desire a set of subjects of the same race. The messiness of this societal structure will not do. I will make a note to begin a racial segregation program.

For now, it will have to do. My studies on the soul suggest they are similar across species, so at least this experiment should be unaffected. As for the children of this village, there is no point to experimenting on those under the age of 10. Their minds are not yet developed, and I can’t even communicate with them well enough to get good data. Everycreature approximately above that age should be a good subject. I will teleport the children back.

How quaint. It appears one of them recognizes what is going on and is informing the others of the story of one of my previous test subjects. Good to see some news is finally propagating. It appears this has cowed half of them while galvanizing the other half. The parents of the foals they just saw being teleported away seem especially angry. I wonder how best to handle this. I believe this village did already get passed by my purge so they likely know who I am. In that case, the reason for their outbursts is likely not due to a lack of knowledge, but an overabundance of bravado or some sense of agency.

One especially irate mother is shouting at the top of her lungs. She will make as good of an example as any of the others. I’ll pick a particularly poignant form of death for the others to see as I can afford to lose one subject today. I have a gun here, but perhaps this fire siphon will be more dramatic. I should probably use something that demonstrates my magical prowess. I use my levitation to grip the mare’s body and begin to crunch it into a sphere of flesh. There is a transition of her yelling to a scream of terror before she suddenly achieves brain death. A silence emerges from the rest of them as I drop the newly-created sphere of flesh and fur on the ground. I made sure to keep the skin mostly intact and just fuse along the creases to prevent bleeding - I can’t stand the mess. The others in her cell seem especially horrified.

With the creatures pacified, I am ready to begin, but another interesting phenomenon has appeared. The one who told the others they were going to be used as test subjects is lying prostrate at the door of her cell begging for mercy. Interestingly, she is also promising undying loyalty and everything she has. Now she claims her daughter is already conscripted in my army. Telepathy informs me that she is speaking the truth of her daughter, but I sense that her other promises are just motivated by self-preservation and that she will likely stray in a week or so.

It does raise an interesting question though. As my influence grows, I will likely soon begin to find those loyal to me in these batches of test subjects. Should I return their freedom as a reward for their service or is being my test subject the highest reward there is? Regardless of the philosophical answer to the question, the practical matter remains that I want to keep those loyal to me alive so that they may serve me longer. These experiments carry a high risk of death or permanent injury, and thus it would be better to guarantee a set of the less useful. I should speak to Aethelflaed about organizing a pool of subjects I can draw from to experiment on.

Subject 1: Unicorn female

I shall begin with the standard necromantic template of the soul that only keeps the basic intelligence of a creature active. I follow the standard necromantic protocol for identifying the soul and can now begin reconstruction. The pattern for the reconstruction outlined in the book is slightly different from alteration, but I can deduce the differences and proceed. This spell outlines adding obedience by interrupting the soul recreation and adding a set pattern. I can adapt this part of the spell by simply changing the existing pattern to the set pattern in the book.

The alteration is complete. From the outside, the unicorn appears unchanged, but is now just looking ahead rather blankly. This is becoming a recurring theme, and not a desirable one. There is no need to run a full set of tests. I just need to get an idea of what effect the spell has had so I can begin tweaking it to my liking.

As a seer by trade, telepathy is one of my specialties. I begin to scan the pony’s mind to see what remains as I also command it with my standard command to walk in a circle. As expected, she begins to obey. The other ponies in her cell give her space as they look on silently. One begins to cry.

With my scan complete, I note that the pony’s experiential memories have been erased. I ask it for when it was married, and it gives no answer while merely staring ahead. I expected as much given the behavior of Silver Star’s servants. The lack of personality also matches. Next, I hand her a paper of 2-digit multiplication problems and ask her to solve it. She is unable - writing seemingly random numbers as solutions. Interestingly, she recognizes the answer should be written under the horizontal line and the separate nature of each problem but lacks the faculties to do the math. I seem to have recreated the standard undead skeleton, just from a living creature rather than a corpse.

Subject 2: Pegasus male

This one appears to be the husband of subject 1 based on his crying and muttering of a name I can only assume was the name of subject 1. This time, I am curious as to how much I can erase. I will not add the obedience pattern, and I will just set every mental value to 0 rather than just most of it. This should give me a good understanding of what is stored in memory and what isn’t. If it isn’t affected by this test, it isn’t related to memory.

Immediately, he collapses. This puts motor skills as under the purview of memory which is interesting to me as walking is not a taught skill and can be done by anydeer immediately upon exiting the womb. His heart, I sense, is still beating, but he does not appear to be breathing. The next thing I notice is the smell as he soils himself. A look in his eyes shows he is not blinking. I believe he is alive, but for how long remains to be seen.

On second inspection, it does seem like there is some breath coming out of his nose, just very faintly. Also, he just blinked. I suspect the delay must be caused by some reflex after his eyes have dried out. To test another reflex, I attempt to initiate the patellar reflex by striking the knee with my levitation, which succeeds in triggering the jerk response.

A perusal of his mind reveals absolutely nothing. My telepathy can usually detect memories, thoughts, and emotion, but I find nothing intelligible. I predict there is actually thought going on, but without a knowledge of language or logic, it is indistinguishable from nothing. Perhaps he will be like a newborn foal and slowly learn everything again.

Subject 3: Earth pony male

The effect I achieved on the pegasus has me curious about just how far I can push soul alteration. I have successfully erased the mind, but what effects could I have on the body? It will also be interesting to see if the soul maps to specific body systems as a scientist would divide the body or if it follows its own model.

I focus on the physical aspects of the soul, but without any understanding of the landscape beyond the skeleton pattern described in the necromancy book, I am mostly working blindly. To satisfy my curiosity, I add a random perturbation to the soul’s landscape in an arbitrary location. Nothing appears to change outwardly. Was this part of the soul linked to an internal structure or something with only long-term consequences?

I suppose there is no point in exercising restraint if I just want to see what happens. I cordon off a large part of the physical part of the soul and destroy it. Results this time are immediate. It seems a large part of his body is now dead. Interestingly, it doesn’t follow any pattern I can tell. His back right leg is discolored, and as he stumbles, it tears cleanly off except for a thin sliver of still living skin. I also notice significant patches of discoloration distributed randomly across the body. It appears he is experiencing weakness, as he is leaning on the side of the bars of his cell, slowly falling. At first, he screamed but is now apparently choking and coughing up blood. Blood is, unfortunately, beginning to flow freely over the floor. The other ponies in the cell appear to be moving away from the pool of blood and him. Optimistically, I will assess this is their desire to not interfere with my experiment as to avoid becoming a flesh sphere instead of mere disgust.

Watching him die was quite fun. I should try this on another one.

Subject 4: Earth pony female

After another attempt, I was unable to locate a part or pattern in the soul strongly correlated with a physical body part or system. In theory, if I did this enough, I probably could, but this is ultimately a diversion from my true task. I have developed some respect for the necromancers who must have worked very hard to find the pattern in the soul matching the skeleton. Subject 4 lies dying on the ground like subject 3.

Subject 5: Unicorn male

Back to matters of the mind. In fiction, the most common form of amnesia is where memories of events and friends are lost, but skills and intelligence remain. Sometimes, this can also change personality. I would like to try an alteration of just these memories, as a creature with no experiences could be easily manipulable.

To execute this process, I will keep most of the process the same as with subject 1, but I will attempt to keep the intelligence of subject 5 intact while erasing memories of events and those they know. I begin with the same necromantic sequence as prior, but I attempt to paint a thinner brushstroke over the pony’s soul. I also opt not to add the obedience pattern.

Upon completion of the spell, the unicorn begins expressing the dead eyes that have become far too common. Did I carve too deep? Upon a telepathic scan, it appears his memories have become rather blank. His thoughts are also rather generic. If a personality is like the grooves on a record, his is totally smooth. This is confirmed when I ask him for his name, and he answers with a simple “I don’t know”. His emotional response is also surprisingly muted. Perhaps I removed his knowledge that not knowing one’s name is bad.

I give him the same math problems I gave the first unicorn. He takes the pencil in his levitation and successfully begins multiplying. At least I didn’t remove all of his skills. I release him to his cellmates to see their reactions. His family is apparently distraught and trying to tell him who he is. He recognizes their sadness but is unsure of why. His thoughts and actions also reflect a very accepting state where he is taking in the information from those around him without question.

It seems I have created one of Leopold’s clockwork automatons, just in organic flesh. I could probably make this pony move a gun from one line to another in a factory all day and convince him it was the greatest job in the world with just a few words. Good to find a spell that may have a niche.

This is good progress, but I need more experience determining which parts of the soul correlate to which parts of the mind so I may fine tune my alteration.

Subject 6: Earth pony female

I did not cut out the parts that I hoped to. I was attempting to erase just the personality, but it seems I’ve erased skills and experiential memories.

Subject 7: Unicorn female

This shows promise. I was able to erase just the personality while leaving most all else intact. Her family was quite unsettled to see this doppelganger replicate everything she was originally able to do with almost no emotion.

These cells which once held the collective townscreatures of a settlement are now a collection of incompetents ranging from totally braindead to almost normal. Quite a productive evening if I do say so myself. I have refined the soul alteration of memory erasure such that I can erase exactly what I want to do. However, erasing memories of the same type is easier than erasing some from one type and some from another. Based on how these types break down, I believe I can contribute a soul-focused model of the information in memory to the field of experimental psychology.

I would divide memories into 2 main categories: declarative and nondeclarative. Within these 2 main groups are multiple subgroups. Declarative memory houses experiential or episodic memories and semantic data. This means that erasing the memory of a house is similar to erasing the memory of buying that house. The information of what the house is is semantic information while buying it is episodic. Similarly, knowledge in the form of facts is all semantic. Knowhow and facts are easy to erase all together. All declarative memories are easier to erase with each other than with nondeclarative memories.

Nondeclarative memories are memories that cannot be explained with logic. This includes skills which are procedural, like how to jump, use levitation, or fly. Procedural memories are easier to erase together than with other nondeclarative memories like personality. However, it is then easier to erase personality and procedural skills together than, say, personality and a declarative memory.

With this model of the structure of memory in mind, I believe the spell I wish to create should limit its effects to be within a single domain as to make the spell easier to cast. If necessary, no more than 10% of the effect should be from an opposing type of memory. A spell that alters only declarative memories or only nondeclarative memories will be easier to cast and require less mana and mental energy, but I am not yet sure if it will be possible to achieve the results I want with just one or the other. This 10% limit should suffice to prevent the spell from becoming too complex to scale.

What to do with these invalids? I could just kill them and take their lands, but it isn’t as if their lands have that much value. Besides, then I’d have to send ponies to manage it. I also don’t want them to have to be cared for and then be a drain on Viirad. I’ll just let the invisible hand take care of them. The relatively functional ones should be able to take care of themselves and the foals for enough time for a merchant to show up. I’m sure they will be able to make use of the dumb labor. The market will decide which are too dumb to work and they’ll die off soon enough. With a thought, I teleport them back. While this has been fun, it has also been tiring. Exploring each individual mind has taken some effort after a long day of work. However, I will sleep well knowing the progress that has been gained today and dream of my perfect order.

Author's Note

Did you know that declarative and nondeclarative memory was only distinguished in the 70s? I guess Viira is Tulving now.

December 29th, 1013

It’s a late Hearth’s Warming miracle. Of course, it was obvious from the removal of Wittenlandian troops from the front that something was occuring, but the inciting incident did not occur until now. It is possible that, in the end, the River Republic did not need to actually intervene in order for my victory to be executed. The mere threat of such an invasion forced Queen Honoria to move a significant amount of ponypower from the south where she is attacking me from to the northeast along the border with the River Union states. This has meant Wittenland no longer possesses sufficient numerical supremacy to continue advancing within Viirad.

Hearth’s Warming Eve. In the current age of strife and disorder, I have wondered where the Windigos are. It would seem that the current state of the world would lend itself to be quite the feast to the creatures. While such a musing doesn’t deign any real investigation, I did hear they were involved with the necromancers to the far north, but that entire region has gone quiet recently.

Returning to the more pertinent topic, my nation has been helpfully hostile to the invaders. Even discounting the mountainous terrain and harsh weather, the last few months have also shown a positive side effect of my mass mind control. As the Wittenlandian supply lines moved further within my borders and as the army moved through towns, those citizens of Viirad who were left behind began to act in my interest of their own accord. They have been undertaking guerilla actions, forming militias, and overall being quite annoying to the would-be unifiers.

This is the key difference between my passive mind control and more active versions. Active mind control requires there be a system in place for me to organize and command the populace, as it supplants and domineers over existing will. In my case, not only can a mage not disrupt the spell after occupying my lands, but, lacking direction from me or my proxies, my subjects seek to act in their perception of my will anyway. They have created systems of resistance that have sought contact with my official state, and through them, no settlement in Viirad is a safe haven for the Wittenlandians. It is true I only cast my spell along the rivers and my train line, but it just so happens that those two things happen to be priorities for the Wittenlandians, as they make supply much more efficient. Therefore, unless they choose to start building new supply infrastructure in the mountains, they will be stuck with the towns most loyal to me.

While it is true these resistance groups have been helpful up to now, their relevance will soon be quite diminished as the intervention by the River Union states has meant I am now beginning to advance all along the front. Their significantly reduced numbers and guerilla-harassed supply lines are crumbling upon contact with my ever-growing forces. Austurland’s integration is complete, and my main limiting factor is how fast I can scale industrially to equip all of these new deer. It is not an urgent concern, as the forces I have now will be more than enough to bring Wittenland to heel.

My main concern now actually relates with how successful the River Union’s invasion will be. So far, their progress has been slow, but I seek to occupy as much of Wittenlands valuable industrial base as possible. When my frontline reaches the River Union’s, it will be a diplomatic incident waiting to happen. Looking at the trouble I have had facing one Riverlands nation in war, it is an obvious logical next step to believe I am not yet ready to face the rest at the same time. Some sort of negotiation, formal or not, will have to occur to avoid a fog-of-war incident that escalates into a war with the entire coalition.

In any case, I doubt I will be able to annex the entirety of Wittenland. Such a move seems unlikely from a military perspective given Wittenburgh’s proximity to the River Coalition border, but also seems unwise on my part. If I were to somehow mechanize my entire army today and drive right through the rest of Wittenland, keeping the capital would undoubtedly draw the ire of River Swirl, who would have a public relations disaster on her hooves. This would then increase the likelihood of a swift counterattack by the riverponies and lead to my defeat. No, the correct course of action appears to be a medium path. I will seize what lands I can, but leave the capital, at least, to “reunify” with the rest of the Riverlands nations. This should stave off an invasion for long enough for me to finish modernizing. I predict I should be able to strike first even.

Therefore, in order to make this a reality, my troops must be swift in occupying as much Wittenlandian soil as possible to bring them into my orbit and under my spell, while leaving River Swirl with, hopefully, just Wittenburgh. My industrial base is still not developed enough to field motorized or mechanized troops at a nationwide level, so my personal intervention will be required.

Their forces at the front, dwindled as they may be, remain well organized and have been vigilant enough to keep their shields up and artillery firing. This makes it more difficult (and riskier) for me to get close enough to affect combat at the front. However, the nature of modern total warfare is that it is a nationwide affair. I have compiled a target list far from the front lines that should prove less defended now that the Wittenlandian army has been stretched thin fighting a war on two fronts.

The one I will be tackling today is a Wittenlandian prison camp in Wintershorn where a great number of my ponies have been held as prisoners of war. It is a moderately armed fortification built within a renovated castle. They are better armed than I would have assumed otherwise, which I believe is due to the influence of my mind control causing POWs to behave more aggressively and stir up trouble. Notably, the facility itself is located near a major supply hub, so a disruption in this region should cause my advance to quicken greatly.

I scouted this location out a few days ago during Wittenland’s strategic redeployment to the north, and my assumption that they would be running a skeleton crew given the imminent threats on two fronts was demonstrated to be correct as my scrying window was not immediately dispelled. This presents me with an opportunity to provide some divine intervention, as it were, to make sure that the guards have a sudden change of heart.

I conjure a new scrying window in the air in front of my desk, using my past memory of the camp’s location as a guide. An image resolves of a prison camp within the walls of a castle. The juxtaposition of the soldiers with modern fatigues and firearms and the ancient surroundings is not lost on me, but that is simply the nature of much of Wittenland. Immediately, my attention is drawn to the ersatz stage made of soapboxes where a pony seems to be preaching.

Based on the placement of the soapboxes and the not insignificant audience, the speech is meant as much for the Wittenlandians as it is for the audience members who are captive in both senses of the word. The speaker is a unicorn mare, looking fairly ragged - as expected from a prisoner of war. Her tone is bombastic, with grand gestures complimenting wild eyes, but the content is considerably less aggressive than the average street preacher.

“Do not lose heart, friends!” she exclaims, “Know that Viira has a plan for you even now. While things may look bleak, know that she put you here for a reason, and that you still have a part to play. You just have to open your heart and find it!”

Interesting that she is taking the fatalistic route. I do not have the power to control fate itself (at least, not yet), but she still ascribes my will to their current predicament. The reception, on the other hoof, does seem to be positive, as the attention shown by the prisoners is rapt. I wonder where she gets this doctrine from. I am reminded of the stallion from the Skapatoria prison cell. He began spouting doctrine from who knows where because he felt it was right. Perhaps this mare is the same, with her feelings towards me and the situation they are in combining within her to create a belief that I must have some plan for her and the other prisoners as individuals.

With others sharing that situation and being from similar backgrounds, it is reasonable to imagine that they may be receptive to the messages she is preaching. There is a grain of truth to what she says. I do have a plan for them given I am currently watching them with plans to break them out, but I also did not put them there intentionally. If all things went according to my design, these camps would be much emptier. On a related note, it is interesting that the Wittenlandians bother to keep these prisoners alive in the first place. The POWs I capture are sent to camps for mind control by me, and there are effectively no lines of communication between our armies, so prisoner swaps do not occur. Maybe they hold onto hope a swap could happen in the future, or they have some creaturian idea that all creatures deserve life and should not just be executed en masse.

“That goes for you too!” the preacher says, redirecting her gaze to a guard beyond a fenceline, “Viira accepts all under her as long as you’re willing to serve! We all used to be just like you, thinking we were Wittenlandians, but we all had a moment where we chose to follow her with all our strength. Join us!”

The creatures listening murmur their assent, and eyes turn around to face the specific pony she is speaking to. The unicorn stallion looks nervous at the attention, with his partner next to him giving him a bump in the shoulder.

“Looks like the crazies have it out for you today,” comes the quip. Clearly, the partner is the senior of the two and is more used to this type of behavior. The junior one is clearly uncomfortable and doesn’t know what to do. It is quite curious why the Wittenlandians allow such an overt provocation and seeming usurpation of Wittenlandian authority to take place within a prison camp. To my knowledge, Wittenland doesn’t have a special tradition of religious tolerance, and so the answer must be a pragmatic one. I hypothesize that, in the past, the speeches were much more aggressive, but when force was used to put them down, it created a violent backlash. This must be the resulting equilibrium of less violent rhetoric and a more lenient guardship.

A number of audience members are now approaching the fence and leaning on it to stare at the guard singled out by the preacher.

“Join us,” they say repeatedly, but the guard appears to be further repulsed the more they lay their attention on him. Surely the creatures in the camp know that no sane creature would leave their patriotic duty simply because they heard “join us” one more time, but the genuineness in the voices of the prisoners suggests they believe that, if they just believe hard enough, the next repetition might actually work. This is a bit worrying, as the idea of passive mind control is that it preserves higher thought, but I can’t expect too much from these ponies given that they are likely under a lot of mental and physical stress from the forced labor.

What does worry me is the fact that my lack of specified doctrine may be at fault as well. Like the previous stallion in the Skapatoria site, this mare seems to be making up her doctrine based on “divine inspiration”, which I most assuredly did not give her. In my experiences with telepathy, I have found that most creatures believe something emotionally first, and then use logic to justify their beliefs rather than vice versa. This mare seems to be no different.

I would imagine this would be happening in other locations, and that what they preach would be inconsistent. Furthermore, without properly consistent moral instruction with backing from me or some similar church institution, the effectiveness of the preaching is going to be reduced. It seems that, since I did not create the institutions necessary for maintaining faith to me, these priests and priestesses have spontaneously appeared to fill in the demand. The issue is that, if they do a bad job, it could have a net negative effect for me rather than a positive one. This is an issue I will have to deal with in the future, but I would like to focus on winning this war first.

The congregation seems to have moved into a time of prayer. The preacher speaks a fiery prayer while the devout listen with hooves, or claws in the case of the lone griffon, clasped and eyes closed. I’ll admit, seeing this show of faith does tickle my ego a bit, especially since I know I am about to answer their prayers.

“Viira, bless our enemies,” the prayer continues, “Show them your greatness like you showed us.” Your goddess hears you, little pony, and she will answer. I cast the point charge variant of the spell over the center of the camp. There are many locations within it which are not exposed to the outside that will have some resistance to my spell, but enough of the guards should be affected for the plan to succeed. I have chosen this time in the morning before the creatures are led out to perform labor, so numbers should favor them.

The invisible wave of magic sweeps across the creatures of the camp as the prayer completes. Among the praying prisoners, they wake with a renewed determination that is enhanced not only by the ritual itself, but by the new wave of mental influence I have applied. The guard pair from before suddenly gains confused expressions. They saw the prayer but didn’t expect it to actually work. They look at each other in disbelief.

“Did that just work?” the senior asks the junior.

“I think it did,” the unicorn replies, incredulously, “Hail Viira!” His chant is followed by other nearby guards. The prisoners turn to look at the source of the shout and are equally surprised. The junior guard trots over to the gate, levitating a key into the lock at the sound of loudening cheers.

“What the hell is going on here?” yells a Wittenlandian officer emerging from a door in the side of the castle. Immediately the Wittenlandian ponies point their guns at her.

“Did you not just feel that Ma’am?” asks one guard. The officer, now clearly bewildered, doesn’t know how to answer.

Suddenly, the preacher yells, “Kill the non-believer!” Guttural shouts of approval begin to spread alongside chants of “Infidel!” The guards, taken up with a new fervent zeal, fire on their commanding officer, who quickly falls lifelessly to the ground under a hail of lead.

“Free us, my new brothers and sisters!” shouts the preacher. It seems she has also sensed she has to take control of the situation to ensure the success of this operation, as she follows it up with more specific orders, “Take control of the camp, kill the infidels, and we will march south to Viirad in glory!”

There is a roar of approval from all sides as prisoners walk right out of the enclosed area that was their sleeping quarters. Gunfire starts to be heard originating from other parts of the camp and in the areas of the castle being used to administer the camp. Soon, two unicorns emerge from another door levitating a crate, which they open in front of the throng of prisoners. It is full of rifles, which are quickly distributed.

I consider intervening further, but it quickly becomes apparent that my faithful have the situation under control. Moving the scrying window to a higher elevation, I can see the irregular fighting across the camp and its buildings. There are casualties on my side as well, but it is clear that converting a majority of the Wittenlandian soldiers to my side has meant the other cannot mount an organized defense. Excellent. Tomorrow, I will perform more attacks all around Wittenland, which should have the combined effect of totally isolating the front from their supplies, allowing my forces to swiftly advance and crush the unsupplied troops. I estimate it will only be a few days before the already embattled Wittenlandians run out of supplies and begin retreating. It is my plan to cut them off before that can happen, and cause a total rout followed by an occupation of a majority of their lands.

Honoria will probably surrender to River Swirl, as there is no real method of diplomatic contact between Viirad and Wittenland, but the reality will be that I will control most of Wittenland’s factories, universities, ponies, and resources. I just have to temper my territorial ambitions to ensure the River Swirl emerges with something she will paint to her constituents as a victory.

Author's Note

This was how the situation resolved in my research playthrough. I annexed all states except Wittenburgh, which I imagined was not what the Riverponies had in mind when they invaded. I think there's some poetic lesson or something about how their divisions meant they couldn't face a common enemy that I've tried to get across in these chapters. At any point, the major powers could unite and deal with Viira as an obvious threat to everycreature, but they don't. Obviously, this doesn't happen in-game for gameplay reasons, but that means that it incidentally gives off this message.

August 12th, 1011

Being able to teleport long distances is quite the time saver. What was once a day’s journey by car (or multiple days by the carts these backwards ponies still use) is now a mere moment away. Perhaps this has military applications, but I will leave that for another time. What is clear is that Viirad must have a more developed train network if any of my plans are to succeed. The efficiency of these bumpkins in anything is astoundingly low.

Silver Star proved compliant. Instantaneously appearing in his study right behind him had the effect I hoped it would. A simple friendly gesture while being sure to emanate as much power as possible was enough to get him to agree for me to search his library. For now, out of fear, but I believe in time that when he recalls this interaction, he will justify to himself that he was merely helping a friend, the in-the-moment sensory information of the surprise and my aura of magic forgotten. Although, perhaps he’s the type to linger on that feeling of fear. No matter, I’ll just send him a thank you note later to direct his memory to my desired outcome.

Silver Star aside, I was able to find another spell that I did not find a copy of in my collection: Fiducia Compelus. I’ve read of the spell before, but I’ve never cast it. It causes a target to gain a compulsion to do something. In its standard form, it’s to obey one’s commands, though you can easily change it to induce any behavior. It involves a command phrase and is targeted, which I do appreciate. Moreover, the victim may not even realize that they are under enchantment, only realizing when the compulsion tests their sense of identity and ability to confabulate, causing them to suspect and resist. The ability of the subject to resist the spell is annoying because increasing the power of the spell also increases the conspicuousness of the spell in tandem, which makes them more likely to resist in the first place.

Overall, a somewhat useful spell, but not scalable to my requirements. While I could alter the spell to remove the verbal components, the range of influence it exerts is not enough for functioning soldiers and civil servants who will need to adapt to new circumstances to say nothing of the issue of resistance. The common Viirradian is probably not even aware the Count is dead yet and would most definitely find total obedience to me suspect to say the least.

Perhaps the solution is to combine multiple spells together. Just Cogeria and Fiducia together could complement well. Cogeria would induce a state where the subject does not question their obedience while Fiducia would provide the primary mental control. It is still unlikely to be enough for my liking, but it would be useful to see the effects firsthand. I have, after all, never cast either of these spells before. I could use the enhanced mental faculties the Machine has granted me to simulate the effects, but the real thing is much more entertaining. When the morning comes, I’ll abduct a few townsponies from near Viirrium for testing. It’ll be a good first use of my new laboratory. I could do it now, but apparently even goddesses need to sleep. It does make me wonder if the princesses of Equestria feel as I do - blessed with incomparable power and yet still bound to the need to sleep and eat.

Author's Note

There's the final spell from "Every Little Thing She Does". We'll start where Starlight left us.

August 13th, 1011

Subject 1: Unicorn male

I took this one from a random village near Viirium. Unlike the villages near my tower whose denizens all know of the possibility of being used for my experiments, these do not yet know what to expect. Accordingly, he reacted with fear and confusion and is currently trying to break out of his cell. I considered magic neutralization collars for the subjects, but these ponies are hardly a threat to me. The nice thing about the dual consciousness granted to me by the Machine is the ability to simultaneously focus on multiple things. As I write this, I am gently putting down each of the objects he’s trying to hurl at me with his levitation. The other subjects are joining in in attempting violence, but their attempts are just as laughable. I could conjure a shield around myself or them for that matter but making them watch their efforts fizzle out in front of them in a very obvious way is better for demonstrating to them the futility of their efforts.

Interestingly, while my eyes gaze upon the page, I note godhood has not bestowed upon me better vision. The background in which the ponies are in their cages remains unhelpfully blurry. However, a combination of my enhanced thought and magical senses of their being and magic use are enough to fill in the gaps. Perhaps a repertoire of sensory spells will be necessary to ensure my safety in all situations to come. For now, though, it seems I don’t need to look at the page to write accurately. It takes a bit more thought, but I have plenty to spare right now. I wonder what other habits I can unlearn.

As he comes under the influence of my modified Cogeria-Fiducia spell, the first thing I notice is the vacant stare noted in the journal I found the Cogeria spell in. I sense his heartbeat is slowing as well. With the verbal components removed, all that remains is to issue a command. Fiducia’s specific link to obey me is bearing fruit immediately as the other subjects are starting to shout at him or scream in terror. A simple silencing spell on them will do to produce a more sterile testing environment.

It appears the spell combination works. While perhaps past me might have needed a few tries to do something similarly complex, my new prowess does appear to extend to subconscious spell manipulation. The stallion, I never did bother to learn his name, is blankly walking in a circle. In order to test the full capabilities of this spell, I will need to give him a full range of commands. A simple battery shall do for this trial run. I shall prescribe a task each of intelligence, communication, endurance, self-harm, incapability, and impossibility.

Intelligence task: Generate 50 sets of 2-digit numbers and multiply them

It could be that this pony’s intelligence has been affected by the spell, but it seems more likely this pony has not needed to multiply numbers in a long time. He’s doing his best, but is failing spectacularly. I observed an error rate of 34%. I’ll categorize this as a task of incapability and give him another intelligence task. This reveals yet another thing immense magical power has failed to give me: an eraser for my pen.

Intelligence task: Generate 50 sets of 2-digit numbers and add them

The subject has proven more successful at this task, though his speed leaves much to be desired. I also note no increase in speed over the 50 calculations suggesting a lack of learning occurring. More subjects are required to assess if there truly is any mental impairment caused by the spell or if he is simply an idiot.

Communication task: Tell me about yourself

The subject merely responded in a single statement which contained his name, age, and occupation. I should rearrange this task to be first in the future so I can assess their potential in intelligence testing before giving them something too difficult. This response raises questions of whether the other ponies will be similarly curt or if this an artifact of his personality. For the final iteration of my spell, I’m not particularly concerned if personality is preserved or not, but this lack of initiative is less useful in my slaves than the inverse.

Endurance task: Don’t stop jumping

The subject jumped continuously for 20 minutes before significant behavioral deviance. I noted no attempt to reduce jump effort to save on energy and go longer, suggesting a lack of long-term planning, or, again, he could be an idiot. After 22 minutes, the strain became apparent, with inter-jump intervals increasing. At 26 minutes, successful jumps became rare, with most attempts failing to clear all four hooves off the ground. After passing out at 29 minutes, he regained consciousness quickly and began to start again, but I had seen enough by this point. The results show that the Cogeria-Fiducia allows the subject to exert beyond standard tiredness, but not to any extreme extent.

Self-harm task: Cut yourself

The subject notably hesitated before cutting himself. He did wince, and once he began expressing pain, the spell’s influence began to fade. I reapplied it once he broke out of it. Fascinating how working to exhaustion did not break the spell, but commanding he apply a small cut to himself did. Was the spell’s influence spent on preventing him from resisting the exertion prior, only running out now, or is the act of harming oneself uniquely hostile to the state of mind induced by Cogeria?

Impossible task: Fly

The subject once again began to jump, this time, in an apparent attempt to fly. He did not attempt to ask for a plane or think of a spell, but simply tried to fly by jumping. From just this example, it is impossible to determine if this is the lack of an ability to plan, or if he believes this is the best way to fulfill the command. Though, the fact this task is not technically impossible but merely so in the common parlance sense of the term gives me another idea.

Paradoxical task: Asses the truth of the statement “This statement is not true”

The subject failed to provide a response of any kind. After giving an example of deductive reasoning and restating the command, he simply stated in full confidence it was false. When pushed, he would then assert it was true, contradicting himself. Once again potentially mental impairment or he’s just dumb. I attempted to explain to him the concept of a paradox, after which he was able to give the answer that it was a contradiction, but he soon relapsed to his standard “false” response. This is at least some evidence to show little to no learning occurs in this state.

I’ve repeated the tests on subjects 2 through 10 though this time simultaneously. I don’t need to wait 30 minutes per pony to collapse on the ground. While it does require a significant amount of effort, I can listen to all 9 of their responses at the same time and still differentiate between them.

When introducing themselves, some were curt like subject 1, but some gave lengthier responses with one needing to be stopped after rambling. I determine that this is, therefore, a remnant of their personality which remains untouched under the Cogeria state. As it happened, subject 9 revealed himself to be a radical planning on overthrowing the Pentarchy. Little did he know I recently just did the same. I can’t have him running back to his friends, so I made sure to question him a bit more about his group and made a mental note to kill him after the tests. I’ll forward the information to Ceadda later.

In the intelligence test, most succeeded in multiplying numbers, but I noted a distinct lack of randomness between their choice of numbers. A statistically significant number of 7s appeared and I noted all 10 used the number 42 at least once. Accuracy remained low, indicating at least some mental impairment. The probability not one of these farmponies would be able to multiply is low.

Next was the endurance test. Due to differences in physical fitness, the ponies each collapsed at different points. In those not accustomed to manual labor, the spell weakened. I therefore infer that the previous breaking of the spell caused by self-harm is not a unique nature of the spell, but instead relative to the nature of the subject. In line with this, the self-harm test proved equally inconsistent, with the spell only breaking for a majority of the subjects. I do want to note subject 6 who showed no hesitation and continued to cut herself when commanded to with no sign of the spell weakening. A sign of depression or just a masochist? I certainly don’t care enough to test it.

For the incapability test, I commanded them to pay me an exorbitant number of bits. Those with money gave me what they had, but none showed any initiative afterwards to try and offer to work for bits. Some tried to search their cell for bits, but overall, a distinct lack of creativity.

As for the impossible test, I commanded the pegasi to swim in water instead of fly. They simply mimed the motions on the ground. Like subject 1, the unicorns and earth ponies mostly just started jumping again with one unicorn attempting to levitate himself off the ground instead. Wholly uncreative and showing little common sense, which is where I believe the mental impairment is evident. Not a single one requested a plane or water in the case of the pegasi. Seeing this helps frame what I would like to see in the mind control spell I plan to cast across Barradian lands and later Kasa, Austurland, and the rest of Griffonia, or more accurately, demonstrates what I would like to not see. I need useful slaves who show initiative and can be creative.

The paradox test went over similarly to subject 1. They showed little critical thinking, and a lack of learning. One pony, subject 2, did actually figure it out in the beginning, but the speed of the response causes me to believe it is likely because she had heard something akin to it prior and thus knew the “right answer” was that there was no right answer as opposed to performing any critical thinking. Either that or the spell has a one in ten chance to grant superintelligence, which I highly doubt given her 10% error rate in multiplication.

The only test I have left for this batch is a test to see how long the spell could last. I sent them all walking in a circle as I had subject 1 do in the beginning and I shall return after another day of overseeing the logistics of running Virrad. I have a group of nobleponies to visit and dealing with them will be significantly less fun than this has been. I content myself with the fact that this is only until I perfect a mind control spell.

Upon returning to the lab, I noted 6 ponies no longer trotting in their circles. This is another persistent aspect of this class of mind control spells that I hope to avoid in the final product - the fact that they wear off. The free ones did not do much in the way of escaping, all apparently suffering from intense headaches. They did, however, seem to remember what they had done under the influence of the spell, which is good to know. I killed subject 9 before teleporting the rest back to their villages. Hopefully they will spread the word and the next batch will be more compliant. Overall, an entertaining and educational experience, though it is back to the drawing board for ideas. It is clear that I will not find a spell lying in a book that will solve all my problems, but making magic is as fun as testing it and tomorrow is a new day.

Author's Note

Viira will be testing self-preservation instincts of the creatures she mind controls so I put in the self-harm tag.

August 14th, 1011

What I have identified from this class of mind control spells is that they all eponymously target the victim’s mental processing. Pusuadere affects judgment, Cogeria affects self-reflection, and Fiducia Compelus affects subconscious thought. While this naive approach to mind control is somewhat effective, I do not believe they are the direction in which I would like to further explore. To run an effective state that will be waging war against armies that will doubtless be larger than my own, I will require useful slaves. I have used this term prior, but a proper clarification is long overdue.

For a slave to be useful, it must be able to act independently. I cannot manage a battlefield with a front line a thousand miles long if I have to control each soldier directly. I can also only be in so many places at once and process so much sensory information at once. While a healthy system of scrying pools could be useful in gaining the relevant contextual data, I cannot run the entirety of the army, industry, research, and civil service at once.

Another important factor is magical upkeep. While I have the power of the Machine and the reactor now, neither source is infinite. More annoyingly, the limiting factor may not be the amount of power I can draw on, but the amount of power my very mortal body can handle. I have used more magic in these last few days than in the last year of my life, and while I am adapting, I can foresee that there are limits to deer biology. My slaves must require only a one-time investment of magical energy or have an upkeep maintainable by industry. Barrad does fortuitously have a healthy supply of crystals.

Creativity and adaptability are crucial. War is an ever-changing landscape, and recent innovations have already drastically changed how it is fought. The Storm King’s airships were defeated by Hippogriffian airplanes and the Changeling Lands are using their tanks to conduct their so-called lightning war across Equestria at this very moment. Research and development of new ideas will be paramount, and I cannot have a population of drones who can’t even multiply 2-digit numbers. Viirad requires scientists and engineers capable of fighting the next war. Unfortunately, the science base of Viirad currently half consists of members of the Pentarchy, and I am aware of how each of our egos and idiosyncrasies make us incapable of functioning as a proper research team. I will have to create an education system and pluck out the best. Kasa and Austurland will also likely have a better educated populace than these Wittenlandian farmers. In any case, this is all useless unless I can control them.

I have pondered some other aspects that I have not yet decided as to whether they are good or bad. For personality, it matters little if it is lost, but there are some implications for intelligence gathering and social adjustment with the uncontrolled. Another hypothetical question remains that I have yet been unable to form a full opinion on. If I ask a slave to commit suicide, is the desired outcome that they do so without hesitation, or that they refuse as to serve me better? In a similar vein, if I am wrong about a subject in which the slave is an expert, should they contradict or refuse me? On the one hoof, allowing for dissent may allow for better ideas to be used, but on the other hoof, there is no guarantee they are better. Ideology runs rampant these days and most believe out of loyalty than any objective measure. Furthermore, I do not wish to have to handle dissenting factions within my perfect order. Time will reveal the answer.

With this in mind, I have looked over my history texts for potential examples of how mind-controlled states have worked in the past. One ancient example I have found is Sirenalia. 3 sirens using the power of an enchanted song to sow discord successfully ruled a nation by focusing discontent amongst the populace towards each other such that they barely minded the nation being run by these strange beasts. I found clashing accounts of whether they were defeated by Grogar’s ancient empire of Tambelon or none other than Star Swirl the Bearded. Honestly, I cannot ascertain the veracity of either of these accounts. I have found no evidence for the existence of Tambelon and this account of Star Swirl seems heavily literary rather than historiographical. It involves strange genres of music and a mirror to another world, which I would posit are dreams of an author’s overactive imagination. Perhaps Sirenalia is an allegory for the dangers of disharmony and this whole thing is bunk. The idea of the low-level mind control they used is interesting, but I’d rather explore more confirmed ideas first.

The more real example I found I would have dismissed as a young and studied Olenian deer a mere 10 years prior - and for good reason. The Crystal Empire’s return is perhaps the strangest event to occur in the last 100 years. A crystalline city lost for a thousand years suddenly returning without warning is the stuff of fairy tales and yet it happened before our very eyes. What is more interesting though is Sombra. I was originally highly suspect of the supposed history of the Crystal Empire that made its way to our libraries from Equestria. I thought it was propaganda to justify their convenient placement of their own princess on the throne, but that was proven incorrect when Sombra did return. While information is slow to reach me here in Viirad, I do know that he successfully took over and is currently at war with both the Changeling Lands and Equestria for control over historical land claims. Bold to fight Equestria while they share a common enemy, but I digress.

The important part of Sombra’s return is that it means that his use of mind control to run the Crystal Empire was real in the past and is currently happening now. I don’t have much information as to how he is doing it, but I can speculate based on the information I do have. One concrete fact that is known is that he uses soldiers mind controlled via helmets. Helpfully, this means that there is a good solution to mind control that allows for the range of thinking required for conducting warfare. However, I understand that his staff is composed of imperially minded free-thinking individuals as they are never described or photographed with the same helmets. Perhaps this is a sign of their hierarchy or it’s the only reasonable outcome if the mind control tampers with higher processing.

The other interesting thing is the helmets. I like the idea of the spell being maintained by equipment as that means I only need to invest magic in the helmets once, and then industry can keep the helmets powered with crystals. There is some concern for durability of course, but it is one way to keep magic upkeep low. It could be that the spell is contained in the helm, but I have another idea. I have no evidence for this, but the mad king has been described as an “umbrum”, some kind of spirit from the Crystal Empire’s vast wastelands. Theoretically, the helms may not maintain any mind control at all, but instead house an umbrum that takes control of the wearer. A fascinating proposition.

Upon first thought this method may not be applicable to me as I have no experience in summoning or controlling spirits. However, Asinti summons demons regularly. An army of demons, if controllable, solves many of my issues. Demons can think, don’t require magical upkeep once possessing a victim, and there seems to be a bottomless supply of them. It seems I have a Zebrican occultist to visit.

Author's Note

If you haven't played the secret route for Azir in EaW, Grogar claims the Sirens as his ancient enemies, but I don't remember if it was clear he defeated them in the past. I also wanted to pay homage to the Star Swirl and Sirens comic from show canon but I couldn't use it directly because EaW canon has the Sirens banished to an abyss at the bottom of the ocean. (Play Hippogriffia)

Fun fact, the 3-way war with the Changeling Lands, Sombra, and Equestria did happen in my Viirad playthrough that I did for research.

August 15th, 1011

My visit to Asinti has yielded results. He was as cryptic as ever, but he gave me a jar which he claims contains a “legion” of demons. I do wonder sometimes what goes on in the old zebra’s head. How can he conduct his research “for the greater good” of zebra freedom and yet exist alongside me, a deer who would see his fellow zebras enslaved? Perhaps this relationship will fall apart once my plans are further along, or perhaps he is old enough to accept a slave state with himself near the top ensuring some semblance of good can be done for his brothers and sisters.

I have just teleported in a few more unsuspecting ponies from around Elisay into my cells and experimentation can now begin. I will give the possessed ponies the same battery of tests I gave the previous subjects, but I do have an idea for a new test to see if the demon is capable of more than its host is.

Subject 1: Earth pony female

Upon opening the jar, one of the demons was quick to float out and in through the ear of the pony. Curious that it acts in such a physical manner rather than merely phasing through the nearest part of the pony’s body. Convulsions are beginning with the pony lying on the ground thrashing. The remaining subjects are being obnoxious as before, but a quick no-carrot-just-stick approach keeps them docile as I break one of their legs to demonstrate the weight of the stick. The carrot is not being subject to additional force. Subject 1 is beginning to stand.

Communication task: Introduce yourself

The demon replies with its name, which is a sound untranscribable on paper. I ask it for information on its host, and it is able to answer in a satisfactory amount of detail. The demon having access to the host’s memories is a positive.

Intelligence task: Generate 50 sets of 2-digit numbers and multiply them

The demon appeared confused at first, but I instructed it to use the skills of the host to complete the task before levitating it a pencil. Apparently, arithmetic is not a skill demons normally acquire. The demon was able to complete the task with 2 errors. Better than those under the influence of Cogeria-Fiducia, but not great. Upon observation of the paper it gave back to me, I noted that the mistakes were both near the beginning, suggesting it did figure out how to multiply by the 20% mark. This is interesting as it implies a learning curve as the demon figured out how to use the skills of its host, but not ideal as one would prefer the effect to be instant. Another thing I hope doesn’t become a problem is the fact it did not go back to correct its old mistakes after figuring it out. Was it simply not aware it made the mistakes in the beginning or just lazy? More data is required.

Endurance task: Don’t stop jumping

The demon expressed annoyance at the mundane nature of the task but began anyway. This jumping was far more vigorous than that of the Cogeria-Fiducia bunch. After 5 minutes or so, the demon informed me that it could use its own strength to augment the pony it was possessing and that it would be jumping for a while. I informed it back that I was aware and that I wanted to test its physical ability. It once again expressed annoyance but continued jumping, albeit with a body language I can only describe as “exasperated”. At the 30 minute mark, it stopped, stating that it was out of energy. My pocketwatch informs me that it stopped precisely at 30 minutes to the second, making this more likely an expression of tiredness than of the full potential of ability. It also means that the demons are perfectly able to count time and do so using the units of the material world rather than some arbitrary standard devised in the realm of the immaterial. When questioned about it, it merely smiled.

Self-harm task: Cut yourself

For this the demon was almost ecstatic, gleefully cutting its host with the provided knife. It kept going without my prompting until I told it to stop. The demon informed me that they hold no concept of self-preservation for their hosts as they existed beyond the realm of the physical. This could be a downside, as while I have great ponypower reserves to draw upon thanks to mind control, I can’t afford to simply throw bodies at my enemies. The demon also took this moment to inform me of their kind’s thirst for blood. I’m sure it thought it was being scary or creepy, but I found its display of playing with the blood of its host more juvenile than anything else.

Observation task: Where is the ball?

Before moving to a task of incapability, I wanted to test the demon’s magical senses. In theory, beyond the physical senses the demon should still be able to use its sensory abilities making it more than its host was before. I did a standard setup of the “cups and balls” trick sometimes referred to as the 3 shell game and asked it where the ball was after shuffling them. Of course I had teleported the ball away before completing the shuffle, and the demon was able to pick up on this, correctly identifying that no matter what it picked it would be wrong. Good.

Impossible task: Fly

When asked to fly, the demon looked at me like I was stupid and said it couldn’t be done. It launched into some tirade about how its host was an earth pony and how it was insulted at the request. No mention of a plane, but maybe it won’t even know what a plane is unless I make it search its host’s memories. This level of impertinence is not ideal for the final product. Maybe Asinti would have a better chance in wrangling these seemingly immature demons into doing what I want, but it appears that, in general, handling them will be basically just like handling any other free-willed creature. A test with an incapable task will not be necessary after seeing this response.

Paradoxical task: Assess the truth of the statement “This statement is not true”

The demon was able to reason the response and eventually stated that there was no correct answer. Perhaps all these demons have a penchant for trickery and have a good nose for it as this one was able to beat the 3 shell game as well as trying to trick me that it was fully exhausted after the jumping, but the only way to find out will be to test the other demons on my other subjects.

On the whole, I am disappointed. These otherworldly beings are just as lazy as those in this world. To top it all off, they know not of many of the advancements the world has gone through or just don’t care. Many subjects expressed annoyance at doing math or other repetitive tasks and were easily bored - not suitable for factory work. They proved relatively bright when it came to the 3 shell game, but mostly uncreative when faced with an impossible task. The increased endurance is nice, but the fact they will not go all the way and will lie to me to avoid working more is not acceptable. The one possessing the pony whose leg I broke whined the whole time during the jumping. I know they have no sense of self-preservation for their hosts, so it was clear the demon was just trying to avoid the monotony of jumping or navigating the task of moving the broken leg as it made no effort to fashion a splint or to do anything else to make jumping easier.

The dealbreaker, though, is their answer when asked why they obey my commands at all. They responded that they were interested in Asinti - merely curious. I cannot have slaves that are loyal to him and not to me, especially if they are not even particularly interested in our world in the first place. The key here is that these demons are also intelligent beings, well if not intelligent at least conscious. Motivating them to do tasks is the same as motivating the host without them, and without belief in my cause, laziness is inevitable.

This then forces me to reconsider my original hypothesis that Sombra uses umbrum to possess his soldiers. Perhaps, as king, there is an in-built cultural belief system that encourages the umbrum to serve him with more fervor. It could also be that he just uses a spell. Regardless of whether my speculation is true, it was only ever an intellectual exercise. The only important question is if I can gain inspiration as to how to tackle things here in Viirad. The answer is that this path, while it could have niche applications, is mostly a dead end.

I pulled the demons out of the ponies and returned them forcibly to the jar. The ponies returning to consciousness expressed varied forms of bewilderment, evidently not remembering anything. Some collapsed from exhaustion while others began to cry in pain of the wounds the demons inflicted on them. I teleported them back to their villages before it got annoying. Now there is nothing left to do but to ponder anew.

Author's Note

I always did wonder how Sombra's mind control worked, but we never see that much of it in the show, so a mystery it will remain.

August 17th, 1011

Yesterday was a long day of helping Ceadda with my campaign to increase my influence over the land. Merging the cultists who worship the Machine and, by extension, me with the army has proven a time-consuming task. Furthermore, while the ponies of Viirad have been pacified, dissent and disobedience run amok. Organizing systems of reward for the slaughter of the nonbelievers has proven messy as sifting the cons from the devout is an adversarial game of cat and mouse.

Verifying killings did happen requires writing the name of the killed. Of course, with how poor birth records are around here, sometimes it’s impossible to determine if the pony killed was real or not. Adding requirements for ears was a logistical hassle, and cons simply used ears from graveyards and the recently deceased. Any decomposition in the ears could be explained away as the effect of the slowness of the mail system, and there have been many complaints from mailponies about the smell.

Removing the requirement for ears led to a balloon of what I would call “paper murders”, but it will suffice as most appear to be real. Better we cut too eagerly than leave a live heretic. Rudimentary checks of suspicious ledgers against the limited records available has shown success and many of the cons have themselves now been killed.

I have instructed Ceadda to take a census of all the ponies in Viirad as he cracks down on dissent. We wish to kill at least one pony at each settlement to send the correct message, which makes it the perfect opportunity to catalog the residents of our former Wittenlandian province. Twenty thousand or so have been killed so far, and organized groups have largely petered out, but I calculate we’ll need at least another ten thousand to have a proper dent in the resistant population. Something tells me once the crackdown is complete, the remainder will be more open to worshiping me.

The messiness of this whole process irritates me. So many hours in correcting errors, dealing with poor records, slow travel causing slow logistics and information transfer all on top of parties actively trying to sabotage my efforts. Viirad will be a well-oiled machine of ticking perfection, but for now I must deal with how there are still no telephone cables in most of the country.

Combined with my lack of progress in mind control, I’m feeling a distinct lack of control. I have such power but when a Kasan partisan steals the ammunition from one of my depots, he goes unpunished for weeks. I hold the nation in my hooves, but I am not a griffon and have no claws in which to grasp it.

I need some entertainment. Mind control has thus far shown itself to be imprecise. I could make it more precise though. If I ignore the mind altogether, I could control just the body directly with levitation. A nice diversion, but I require a subject.

I plucked this pony from the street of some town in northern Elisay. He looks to be some kind of laborer, a miner perhaps. He looks fearful but is not yet lashing out in any violent way. I believe I’ll begin by using levitation to hold his entire body still. Yes, it appears to be working - he remains entirely rigid, eyes unblinking, no signs of life. Let me start off by fixing those eyes with a careful downwards pressure on the eyelids. I must say that my level of precision in levitation has vastly improved since my ascension. Gently up and down. I feel a steady increase in resistance, which has caused me to realize that I have forgotten to keep him breathing. As of now, his lungs remain perfectly still, diaphragm waiting for my command to contract.

This is quite a delightful departure from the imprecision of verbal instruction. I contract the diaphragm and allow the lungs to inflate. There are so many intricacies to keep track of, and I realize I am limited by my knowledge of pony biology. His lungs are not expanding even though I’ve released my grip. Assuming ponies are like deer, I move what should be his epiglottis out of the way of his windpipe. It seems I’ve applied too much force, as I feel what was once one piece of flesh split into two. I have reacted fast enough to stop blood from flooding out, but it seems he will be eating smaller bites from now on.

I release the severed half of the epiglottis and move it down the esophagus, mimicking the act of swallowing. Problem solved for my purposes. The feeling of the numerous involuntary muscle contractions from the intense pain he seems to be feeling right now is quite the sensation. It is akin to wind blowing over a grassy field where one cannot predict exactly where the wave will start from but can confidently assert the general direction and amount the wind will blow it.

I am now confident he will not immediately die of asphyxiation. The next step shall be just that: a step. I realize I do not know how exactly the muscles in the leg need to contract to make such an action happen, so I will first attempt something more like puppetry. I relax my influence on the front right leg and focus on the hoof. As I levitate it up, the loosened leg follows the path of least resistance and bends accordingly. Unlike a normal step, there is no force from within the leg with no tensing whatsoever and the action is driven by my external force allowing each part to move.

And now down. I lower the hoof to a position in front of where it was when I first began to lift it. I feel a pop somewhere along the leg. In retrospect, it is obvious. The leg has not gotten longer, so in order to be placed down in front of where it was before, something had to give. In a standard trot, the body usually moves forward to compensate for the change in position of the hoof. With a gentle tug of the torso, I’ve corrected for the error. One of his back legs seems to be lifting up automatically now as well now that the torso has moved forward.

I should probably correct this dislocation. From feel, it must be in the lower joint of the leg. I move the ball back into the socket. Lucky for him he is also an ungulate or I wouldn’t know what to do. I can’t imagine trying this with a griffon. I feel a grinding of bone against bone. Perhaps I was a bit too zealous with the correction.

For this back leg, I do want to try a muscular approach rather than this puppeteering. My goal is to raise the back left leg and move it forward in a walking position. First, I have to release weight by bending in the hind quarters and bending the knee. Does the metatarsal movement on a pony differ from my own during walking? This pony’s metatarsus is much longer proportionally than my own. Walking is such an unconscious behavior that without doing it myself, it is difficult to guess how the metatarsus should behave. I had better bend it upwards just to be safe.

After guessing the approximate positions of the correct muscles to contract, I begin the movement as 3 simultaneous contractions in an intricate dance of sinew and ligaments. Immediately, the weight shifts on the pony and I have to prop up his body with my levitation to stop him from tipping to the left. The movement is largely successful. The final part is to lower the limb back down, but this time I remember to move the torso forwards again the appropriate distance.

By slightly offsetting the contractions, I reverse the movement done prior to lower the limb to the ground, but as I do so, I feel a strange, fleshy crunch as the thigh fails to bend. It seems my offset was incorrect and that I have torn a random bunch of muscle and flesh in the leg. However, the nature of the damage leads me to the location of the correct muscle, and I am able to reapply weight to the leg as it lands back on the ground.

As before, waves of involuntary muscle contractions dart around the pony’s body. I counteract them as they come, but only after they have some visual effect. I see his eyes are still moving independently of my control - not the balls themselves, but the pupil dilation is changing. I wonder what he’s thinking about inside there, trapped inside his own body. Is he wishing I chose a deer so I could have had a higher likelihood of success at locating specific muscles? Is he praying to whatever god these Riverlanders pray to that he’ll live? Actually, there’s no need to wonder, I have telepathy spells after all.

Well, that’s not very interesting. Apparently, his internal monologue just consists of screaming most of the time. When he isn’t screaming it is a mess of incoherent gibberish. Let me see if I can fix these errant pupil irregularities. I apply some pressure from my magic to freeze the iris in place, but the precision of my control at this scale within another object tests even my abilities. The iris is remarkably thin. I see blood pooling in his left eye. I must have cast my net of levitation too wide and broken a nearby blood vessel. No matter, the eyes serve no functional purpose as I cannot see through them anyway.

This has been intellectually stimulating, but I am limited by my knowledge of anatomy. I’ll have to talk to Leopold. I’m sure he has books about griffon biology given his mechanical augmentations, but I’d wager he has one or two tucked away about ponies too. As for my subject, there is a chance I’ve permanently maimed him and removed a healthy worker from the population. However, the entertainment I’ve received is worth far more than the work of any one of these ponies is able to produce. There are at least a hundred thousand just like him in Viirad.

As I release him from my levitation, he collapses, but doesn’t scream in pain or thrash violently. He is mostly twitching his uninjured legs and is beginning to sob quietly, left eye closed. Good. I hope more subjects will get the memo that violent outbursts are disruptive to my work. Well, I suppose that is why they do it in the first place. I should hope instead that they are more cowed by fear of retribution. I teleported him back to the village he came from.

Author's Note

Man, I had to look at so many anatomical diagrams of ponies and deer.

Also, I'm realizing that the descriptions of the pony's body parts breaking are a bit graphic so I'm adding the gore tag just to be safe.

August 18th, 1011

I talked to Leopold today about books on pony anatomy, and while he did express squeamishness at what I intended to do, he did give me 2 books on the subject. I’ll read them later, but talking with him about the intricacies of movement sparked another line of thought I hadn’t considered in the past. Necromantic spells, when reanimating a corpse, do not require the caster to individually puppet the bodies of the deceased. They show some signs of autonomy, or even intelligence. The skeletons I’ve seen around Silver Star do the tasks my servants handle at home. I must have tea with him posthaste to discuss the matter.

That was quite a productive talk. Silver Star’s paranoia knows no bounds, but as it dominates his personality, it makes him easy to navigate. I know him well enough to predict his behavior, and his guard is down around me. The Machine’s processing power also helps me analyze many scenarios to perform simple conversational optimizations to direct his tree of thought.

I learnt much of the nature of necromancy from what he described. What fuels the intelligence of the undead is the soul of the deceased individual. While the physical matter of the brain of the dead is no longer present, there is knowledge also contained in the soul. He explained it to me as like the double helix of DNA. On the one side is the physical nature of bones and skin, and the opposing side being the soul. As long as enough of the body and soul are still around, the full knowledge of the original creature can, in theory, be recreated. Natural error correcting also exists, meaning it is still possible to recreate the entire creature if there are a few gaps in both the soul and body.

Apparently, the reason for the historical taboo on necromancy is the bad results that often come from attempts of resurrection. According to Silver, most corpses begin losing data immediately upon death, so unicorns who attempted to fully bring back long-dead relatives often brought them back with major mental disorders. On the other end of the spectrum, those who were too successful would recreate the body and mind of the target at the moment of their death - which may be with cancer or a lethal wound causing them to immediately die again.

What I find fascinating is the selective nature of how it can function. Not all of the mind of the original creature has to be recreated, and in fact is not encouraged. Silver says his personal servants have the intelligence of a child. Recreation of the entire body on the other hand is apparently usually too difficult with too much data loss and the requirement to sift through the good parts and the parts that were that creature’s cause of death, hence the ubiquity of skeletons. Furthermore, partially recreating the more living parts of the body just causes more hassle as they will die without a full digestive system, which then needs skin and et cetera. Full bodily resurrection then means you have to feed it, which makes the partial reanimation more desirable.

I asked him then, if the skeletons are missing most of the features of a living creature, how are they powered? This is where necromancy and healing diverge. The two fields overlap when referring to true resurrection, but where healing seeks to restore a target to perfection, necromancy often substitutes the features of living creatures with magical simulations. The energy given to the soul in skeletons is usually standard magical energy which is used for locomotion, sensing, and thought.

The glowing eyes usually seen on reanimated skeletons is a side effect of how standard uses of necromancy don’t reanimate living tissue. The eyes, therefore, are magical constructs which are connected to the soul to give it the ability to see. Sight is the most important sense to recreate, but touch and feel are also required for a full semblance of life. Silver Star says his method is to combine the two by adding magical strands which snake along the bones which feed movement information to the soul. This can tell a skeleton if it is properly balanced, for example, and his method is supposedly sensitive enough for the soul to hear commands through the vibrations of the bone on the strands.

This method of controlling the masses is versatile and scalable which is why I believe it has been the most popular method for powerful magic individuals to amass armies. Everycreature has, of course, heard of the Dread League and their city of Magehold beyond the far north, but they haven’t done anything significant in my lifetime. Aethelflaed says she remains in contact with one of the necromancers there. According to the last letter she received, which was dated quite a while ago, they were preparing for war with the Arcturian Order which was mandated long ago with containing them.

I used to think Aethelflaed and Ceadda were siblings. They look relatively similar and I thought they shared a last name. However, it turns out I simply didn’t pay enough attention - Aethelflaed’s last name is Sigeweard, not Sigeweald. I’ve traveled to so many pony nations and yet I still can’t work out how their names work.

I can appreciate the effectiveness of necromancy and the healthy body of literature available in the field, but it is not something I wish to pursue. It does tick all of my boxes, but the key with mind control is that I am controlling a being under it. If I were to succeed in world conquest with necromancy, I would rule over a planet of half-aware automatons - there would be no point.

Mind control is only a temporary measure. Once the world revolves around me, there will be no purpose other than to serve me. The next generation will not need it. Besides, I won’t need to mind control every creature in the world to create a society that controls everycreature. It may not even be possible for me to meet every creature across the continents to mind control them in the first place. Society is the best form of mind control. There are zebra foals in Roam, chicks in Nova Griffonia, and yetis in the Storm Kingdom being born today that will know no other order than mine. They will know to fear the deer.

Necromancy creates a clear boundary between who serves me and who is not a part of me. Fifteen years from now, when a changeling in Grenclyf opens their doors to see my servants, what will they think? If what they see is a pile of bones, they will be alienated and grow treasonous thoughts. There is no camaraderie across the boundary of mortality. However, If it is their own friends and families with familiar faces and voices, they will conform, adapt, and serve in turn.

That isn’t to say this endeavor has been entirely irrelevant. I am fascinated by the idea of modifying the expression of the soul. I have been experimenting on the mind and the body, but the soul had not crossed my consideration. If necromancers pick and choose what parts of the soul they can reconstitute, perhaps I could alter an already living soul. Food for thought.

Author's Note

I never understood how necromancy was supposed to work, so here's something I came up with. There's also a bit of an exploration into Viira's motivation which I'm still not super clear on. Her in-game description and a few of the Viirad focuses reference wanting to make deerkind dominant, but most of her "dialogue" in the focuses suggests purely self-interested power lust. I took this to mean that she does have some vague notion of wanting deer to be recognized, but that she's mostly in it for her own power and control because she enjoys both of those things.

Also, Aethelflaed lore! I don't think there is much of anything for most of the Barrad advisors and concerns so I'm fleshing them out a bit.

August 19th, 1011

After referencing some books I have on souls, I have determined that targeting the soul is more of a difference in method and will achieve the same outcome as targeting the mind. The soul is a reflection of the body and mind, so any change to the soul results in a change to the former two. The soul is not directly observable, and thus “soul control” would provide results that are indistinguishable from mind control, as they are intertwined. The reverse is also true where altering the mind would also alter the soul.

Where taking this alternate route could be useful though, is when it comes to avoiding countermagic. All magic users know that counterspells are highly specific and generally require knowledge of the original spell to work properly. In the era of industrialized warfare, counterspells have taken on new life as unicorn and changeling soldiers are wielding identical spell matrices in a way the more artisanal warfare of yesteryear would not have allowed for. It also applies to Kirin, I suppose, but I doubt they even have spell matrices in Kiria; the Silence has kept them quite primitive. If I use a standard approach to mind control, it is likely a counterspell will be developed in a short time. Soul control, on the other hoof, promises a longer development time for my enemies.

Actually, on the topic of countermagic, there could be another benefit to soul control as long as I ditch the “control” part and replace it with the “alteration” I was thinking about yesterday. While not technically countermagic, dispellere is a widely known spell and magic neutralization is a mature technology. The Abyssinian magic neutralization collars I have are one example, and I have read a piece describing the Queen’s Tower in Vesalipolis which talks about how Chrysalis' seat of governance houses a stone which neutralizes all non-changeling magic. The mind control methods I have been testing would immediately lose effect upon contact with either of these.

Puppetry with levitation being interrupted is obvious, and Asinti’s demons would obviously not be affected, but the reason for Cogeria and Fiducia being affected is more interesting. It is because neither spell actually alters the target’s mind. Instead, they are what I will coin as “active” methods of mind control. Cogeria acts as a blanket over the mind, preventing too much thought via active interception. This requires constant magic, and is therefore vulnerable to being dispelled or neutralized. Fiducia adds artificial mental pathways which are powered by magic and is thus also dispellable.

If I were to instead, through soul alteration, actually change the minds of my targets, it would birth a new kind of mind control which I will coin as “passive”. In this method, the neural pathways will be rewritten at the moment of casting the spell such that, for example, a target will serve me unconditionally. Now that the brain has been reprogrammed, it requires no further magic input from me which means there is no magic to be dispelled.

The mind has proven too complicated to work on directly as it is part of the body. The complexities of individual minds and of the biomechanics means passive mind control has not been thoroughly studied. Biomancy does exist, but it is incredibly niche. However, my recent jaunt into necromancy has opened my eyes to manipulating the mind through the soul. If necromancy already has an in-built framework for manipulating the recreation of the soul from parts, I believe it will only be a small leap to manipulating an existing soul.

The question remains of why no one else has tried passive mind control before. I believe that there actually do exist examples of passive mind control via soul alteration or otherwise, but that they simply haven’t been replicable. The lord of chaos, Discord, for example, is said to be able to rewrite minds on a whim, but it seems an extension of his frankly unfathomable powers of reality alteration and therefore out of reach for any normal creature.

Now that the matter of method has been established, all that remains is the matter of, well, matter. What in a creature’s mind do I actually want to change? I can see a number of different methods working. The most relevant part of the mind is memory, but memory encompasses quite a broad spectrum of known things. I’ll have to do some research into how it works to get a better sense of how it is structured. I have not heard of spells that interact with memories, but I should check for texts on the subject regardless.

Hergriff Ebbinghaus’ book Memory. A Contribution to Experimental Psychology is an interesting read, but it reveals that the nascent field of experimental psychology will not be of that much help to me. This book is lauded as one of the seminal texts of the field, and yet the only experimental subject he had was himself. The book does cover much on forgetting and remembering but does not define an information structure of how memory is organized. Surely there is a difference between reminiscing on a past experience and knowing how to take a derivative. It seems I’ll have to be the one to develop the theory myself.

On the subject of memory spells, I was unable to find anything besides an old scroll written by Clover the Clever. It depicts a story of his battle with a sorceress with an object referred to only as the “Memory Stone”. This stone was apparently able to erase memories or even parts of memories. It does not, however, speak to its method of functioning. The scroll seems strangely truncated, ending right at the sorceress’ defeat. An interesting writing choice given the detail prior, which leads me to believe it is incomplete. Annoying, as it doesn’t speak to the storage of memory, the returning of the erased memories, or what Clover did with the stone. It seems I’ll have to improvise solely based on the necromantic principles from Silver Star’s books.

Author's Note

The information on counterspells is based solely on the depiction of the counterspell from Rainbow Rocks, which I think is the only counterspell in the show.
I also don't think there are any memory spells besides the stone from Forgotten Friendship.
I feel like an investigator trying to see if there is actually anything Viira can use from different parts of canon.

August 21st, 1011

Upon waking today, I decided to get a head start on the business of mind control before returning to the affairs of state. I spoke to Aethelflaed and tasked her with finding me a permanent pool of test subjects, the first of whom I will need delivered by sunset tomorrow. She has an idea of getting subjects from jails, which does seem like a good idea. This way, I won’t have to deal with children or the loyal. I suppose one who is loyal to me could commit a petty crime or similar, but I have confidence in Aethelflaed’s ability to filter those out.

Yesterday’s forays into memory taught me much about the structure of memory and have revealed to me at least 4 axes in which to try to work from: episodic memory, semantic memory, procedural memory, and personality.

To control a creature through its episodic memory, the easiest method would be the full erasure method I tried yesterday. Without experience to rely on, the ponies were forced to accept the information they were told. This is not a foolproof solution, as I noted that while I made some ponies forget how they were brought to my lab, they did not lose their distrust of me, as that information is semantic. With a little semantic erasure as well, it would be easy to create gullible fools. My objective, however, is not to create fools, as I require slaves who are engineers and researchers. Furthermore, episodic memory contains valuable information a slave can use to be of better use to me, so I believe erasure is not the correct course of action.

If control through the erasure of episodic memory is not widely applicable, perhaps the inverse is. I could implant episodic memories of, say, a lifetime of serving me. The issue here becomes generating these false memories and ensuring they are not identified as such. I believe I could copy or at least transplant the memories from one of my housemaids into a farmpony, but it I would not be surprised if it led to strange effects. If I were to overwrite the memories within the target, I could feasibly “clone” one of my maids, but I don’t need more maids. If I were to merely add the memories, I suspect the identity of the original subject would identify the memories as foreign, and thus not accept the behaviors within them.

Identity is an interesting concept. There was no “identity” pattern I could find when erasing the memories of ponies yesterday. It seems to primarily consist of semantic data about who they are, but personality and procedural memories can provide some semblance of what the common creature might also refer to as identity. Episodic memories also contribute to the concept. Even if I were to overwrite the episodic memories of a subject, it is possible that the memories of their identity would cause them to still resist me. For example, if I overwrite the memories of the pony, they may remember they are a pony (as well as observing it) and reject the memories of my deer servant as somecreature else’s.

Tampering with semantic memories seems to be the most promising route. Semantic memories include personal information like what the creature worships, associations like “fire bad” and “money good”, and also general knowledge like how to do long division. While associations are here, I noticed that emotional responses are actually housed more in procedural memory and personality. It seems for each of these categories, the best way to think of how to approach my spell is to consider what I will remove and what I will add.

For removal, negative associations with me are an obvious low-hanging fruit. Negative forms of self-identification towards me (i.e ideas like “I am not Viiradian”) are probably also a good bet to remove. Beyond that, however, I believe I must tread with caution. While it may initially sound correct to remove thoughts critical to my rule or with positive self-identification towards other groups, I worry about the possible downstream repercussions. If I were to erase negative feelings towards how I do things, how can my rule improve? If their complaints are valid, I do want them to inform me and contribute to fixing the issues. I am both great and powerful, but I am not so prideful to think myself infallible. At least not yet.

Positive self-identification towards other groups could cause similar issues. While removing national identity could be useful in pacifying occupied territories, other identities are less useful to remove. If I were to erase a stallion’s belief in their responsibilities as a father of a foal, yes that would prevent him from trying to protect his child from me killing them but may also leave a child abandoned. This child would then not be able to serve me. A secondary mandate to foster a child as part of service to me would likely be less powerful than the already in-built societal responsibility to care for one’s offspring. I should try and take advantage of these premade societal roles to minimize the amount of society rebuilding I will have to do in each conquered land.

Adding semantic information is where things seem most powerful to me. By adding positive associations with me, creatures will be inclined to make the logic work in my favor. I need not remove a worship of Boreas or Celestia as they will understand that I am more important than either of them. I would like to test this first as there are many ways in which I can add this association, and some may not be enough for the target to justify to themselves obeying any command I could ask.

Procedural memory seems the least useful to me. I would prefer to keep skills untouched so that creatures may use them in service to me, but some other aspects of this type of memory could be on the table. Procedural memory contains associations related to actions in response to stimuli. While mostly minor, there are certain associations that could be a danger to me. Primal responses of fear or self-defense instincts could be annoying to deal with. I don’t want a situation where a pony cannot fulfill one of my commands because they are too scared to. However, there is a very delicate balance to achieve where if I remove all fear, they will act with undue risk. I will avoid these memories unless necessary.

Personality promises benefits similar to that of semantic memory as much of identity is also stored here. Personality encompasses things irrelevant to me like how creatures emote and their vocal inflections, but it also includes emotional responses to associations. A purely semantic association of me as their goddess does not necessarily translate to action and may prove inadequate. I don’t need to elaborate on the number of nations and griffons that nominally claim fealty to Grover VI but do nothing for him or are not motivated by that fact. By combining semantic fact with strong emotional responses, creatures will be more likely to be driven to proactive action in my service.

Are there, however, problematic personality elements that I should remove? Negative feelings towards being mind controlled are one idea. In a primarily semantic spell with some personality alteration, it is possible that creatures will be willing to justify anything for my sake, but negative emotion can be a powerful force. Testing will be the only way to be sure if this is necessary.

I do recall one major event of personality alteration occurring on a mass scale. There was a news story in Equestria a few years back about an incident where two of the princesses and many members of a town came under the effects of the water of a cursed hot spring. According to the article I read, aspects of their personalities were amplified, causing major disruption. Luna is said to have transformed back into Nightmare Moon temporarily whereas Twilight Sparkle attempted to implement a technocratic, authoritarian reign.

I do not believe a primarily nondeclarative approach to mind control is the right approach. Unlike memory magic that affects episodic and semantic memory, active emotional manipulation is both a well-developed field and notoriously messy. The “Want it, Need it” spell is the most famous example, of course, but love potions are also famous for causing all sorts of issues. On the topic of love, I’d categorize the Equestrian princess Cadence’s supposed specialty of love magic as emotional manipulation, and thus a form of active mind control, but I’m sure they would have a more flowery description. I suspect, therefore, that my passive soul alteration methods would have similar results if primarily nondeclarative.

This analysis bodes well for my test subjects tomorrow. A primarily additive semantic approach with a side of positive emotional association appears to be the best approach, but only real data can prove or disprove this hypothesis. I, unfortunately, must conclude here for now, as I must oversee the construction of two new gun factories - one for rifles and one for artillery. Viirad is undergoing a general rearmament for the coming invasion of Kasa, and my soon-to-be slaves will need weapons to wield.

Author's Note

Ponies of Dark Water reference!

August 22nd, 1011

Aethelflaed has surpassed my expectations. Not only do I have a group of 100 individuals in my laboratory cells, but she says she has created a system where I can, with a day’s warning, request any reasonable number of subjects to be transferred from the nearby jails to my cells. That pony is quite the organizer. She introduced me to the griffon she put in charge of the system: Anastasiya Kovalsky. She is one of the cultists who worship the machine. In her past life she was a cossack on a raid into Wittenland and Barrad when she heard the voice of the Machine after becoming separated from her raiding party. After finding the others who heard, she decided not to go back.

It is nice to have a round number to work with. Perfectly balanced: 10 cells with 10 ponies each. The villages from which they came are also recorded, so that when I am done with them, Anastasiya can corral them back without me having to teleport them. Good help truly makes all the difference, which is why the perfection of this spell is imperative.

Subject 1: Earth pony male

Before I begin refining the semantic-personality combination spell, I should make sure my assumptions are correct about what will not work. There is also a small probability that another approach could be better, and I don’t want to miss out on a better solution due to overconfidence in my modeling. Therefore, for subject 1, I will try the memory transplantation method.

Upon reflection of yesterday’s musings, I have come up with a more refined approach than a focus purely on episodic memory. I will first erase the episodic memory and personality of the target, and then take the corresponding parts of the mind of one of my housemaids and implant and copy them into the subject. I want to then attempt to overwrite the semantic self-identification associations from the target and replace them with that of my servant’s, but I foresee difficulties with this. This method should create a copy of my servant with the knowledge of the target. It will take more mana than I would like, but it should confirm or deny the correctness of my model.

For this purpose, I have brought Kirsi, one of my maids, to be the template. She appears scared, but probably only because I haven’t told her of the nature of the experiment. I decided to inform her, as it will likely help her with “waking up” in another body. Of course it won’t be her in the other body, but it may as well be from the perspective of the memory of subject 1.

I approach subject 1 and begin the process of erasing the relevant memories. My experience from prior subjects applies well, and it takes almost no time to erase the episodic memories and personality of the subject. I then open a second connection to Kirsi’s soul and use it as a reference to create the same patterns in subject 1. It is quick, with Kirsi herself not even noticing the process, though that may just be because most deer are not magically attuned.

With my experience and the reference, the spell concludes in moments. Subject 1 looks confused and is now transitioning to a state of discomfort. As I expected, the first speech from the subject is about how I said it wouldn’t be her and that it would just be a copy of her mind. This is immediately followed by a look of surprise and a covering of the mouth before observing the non-cloven nature of the foreign hoof.

I explain the nature of copying and about how she (he?) is the copy while the real Kirsi is still here. The subject looks quite uncomfortable with its body. Telepathy reveals a dysphoria regarding the “change” in race and gender. The real Kirsi seems to have grasped the situation and is staring wide-eyed.

The reaction of the other test subjects to subject 1 is remarkably subdued. I ask Anastasiya, who elected to stay and attend to my needs regarding the subjects, why this is the case, and she replies that she already imparted an understanding to the subjects that disruption would be met with punishment. This kind of initiative is what I want to see from those under my spell.

I command subject 1 to do a few simple tasks to check for obedience which seems to work fine, though faux Kirsi seems to be stressed and less quickly responsive than her real self. The real test is if it can call upon knowledge of the original host. I ask subject 1 if it knows what skills it now has that it didn’t have before. Unfortunately, the metacognitive knowledge of what he once knew how to do has been lost. I’m not sure how this meta-knowledge interacts with the types of memories I have categorized so far, so I’ll have to keep this in mind for future subjects.

Without the knowledge of what to test for, I have no other use for subject 1. I could try and do a deep telepathic scan or interview another subject before doing it again, but I think this is enough evidence to show this method is not a hidden gem. I thought I could solve the problem of just creating another maid by trying to leave semantic information intact, but now it is clear that, even if those skills are usable, the method opens up other problems I hadn’t thought of.

The fact that the copy feels out of place in the body is one problem, but the main one seems to be the stress caused by the experience. Even an obedient soul would struggle in such a foreign environment as has been demonstrated by Kirsi here. In order to facilitate this on a larger scale, I would have to create a perfect soul template that would not be bothered by waking up in a new body which would require either a one-in-a-million find of a unique personality or a carefully crafted one. Neither is optimal. What I simply can’t live with though is the fact that if I were to do this on a large scale, I would have a nation of Kirsis, which wouldn’t feel as satisfying to rule. It is just like the skeletons - there is no unique being I am controlling.

Subject 2: Unicorn female

As I move on to subject 2, subject 1 annoyingly interrupts asking what will happen to it. I suppose unlike the prisoners, Kirsi, or, more accurately, the presence of her identity, makes subject 1 feel it has a level of familiarity with me. It does raise the question of what I should do with these subjects afterwards. Presumably, most will be able to function in society and be loyal to me if most of what I end up doing is simply refining my method. However, I don’t think my time is best spent judging what will likely be a wide spectrum of results. Anastasiya can handle them. I inform subject 1 of this, and Anastasiya hears as well. I see Anastasiya immediately pick up a pen and start writing notes - a sign to me that she understands the responsibility I have delegated to her.

For subject 2, I will test a personality approach, the other longshot idea. My passive methods are perhaps a bit more refined than the active methods of most emotional manipulation magic, but I predict no pattern I will be able to produce will be able to satisfactorily achieve consistently good results. The issue lies in modeling the divergent nature of how different emotional responses will react with each other which usually ends in varied and extreme behaviors.

To start, I begin the connection to subject 2’s soul and locate the personality. For this test, I begin to apply a simple positive association with me. I tune it to be relatively strong, as I would prefer to see the effects it has on a wider slate of behaviors, and an increase in strength of the association should ensure even distant associations with this response are felt consciously.

Upon conclusion of the spell, I command subject 2 to walk in a circle. There is a moment of hesitation in her eyes before she begins. This hesitation for this simple command seen both in her and subject 1 leads me to believe that it is the presence of higher thought that allows for this. Most of my previous spells reduced mental capacity, and thus the ability to question my commands, causing them to obey promptly. These subjects, with their reasoning intact, are able to recognize the arbitrary nature of the command, and likely hesitate to think through any immediate tricks. This is a tradeoff of this form of mind control, but one I will gladly make.

After completing her fourth circle, I note a look of confusion on her face. I believe I know the cause. The original obedience was caused by fear of retribution given her status as a prisoner in a lab with an all-powerful goddess. Now that she is obeying, I suspect she is beginning to become aware of the association implanted within her. A telepathic thought scour confirms this theory and gives me another idea to test.

I command subject 2 to kowtow before me. She begins after another moment of hesitation. The moment her nose touches the ground, she recoils and jumps back. The lack of camaraderie between the prisoners is clear as the rest try to give her space without questioning her behavior. This is a far cry from the villagers I used who would try to console or express concern for those being targeted, so I appreciate this comparative lack of interference. Subject 2’s eyes go wild as she begins clopping herself in the head.

I find this behavior very entertaining. I glower a little at her, and she slinks back to the kneeling position, though I see she is now closing her eyes. She is continuously wincing and squeezing her eyes shut. I don’t need magic to tell me what’s going on, but I take a look just to confirm my suspicions. As expected, the thought pattern has been a cycle of feeling the emotion of the association, recognizing its artificiality and then trying to not feel it by any means necessary.

This awareness of how the feeling does not align with the rest of her identity is another reason why a primarily personality focused approach will probably not be my final solution. Given enough time and enough coercion into following commands, it is possible the hostility she feels towards the association I implanted will fade, and that she will choose to take solace in the fact that it at least feels good or at least grudgingly accept servitude. However, it is equally likely that, through her active deconditioning efforts, the association I implanted wanes in strength. This is a downside of passive control, as targets, if they so deem, can attempt to change their own minds. Souls are always in flux as the body and mind change, so creating self-reproducing patterns will be essential.

Subject 3: Pegasus male

Having seen enough of subject 2, I leave her to her internal conflict and approach subject 3. I am now curious if I can overcome this conflict by simply turning the association up much higher and providing multiple similar associations rather than just the one. I insert the new associations into subject 3 and crank the metaphorical dial up a few notches. Right after I do, his wings stick straight out as if electrified and his eyes go wide.

At first, it appears as if I broke something, but his gaze then falls on me. He remains standing stock-still, eyes directly staring at mine. He starts breathing deeply and then jumps to the bars of the cell directly at me. I was expecting extreme behavior, and so am unfazed. A rattling sound rings out as his face embeds itself between the bars. He flaps, seemingly trying to fly through the bars as I see a hoof begin to extend past the cell towards me. I am, of course, a few paces beyond his reach, but that physical reality doesn’t appear to stop him from trying to reach for me.

A mental examination reveals he desires to touch me, as if he were deathly ill and touching my fur would somehow cure him. The chain of thought that led to this hyperfixation is a mystery to me, but such is the chaos of emotional manipulation. Having realized he will not be able to reach me, he turns his eyes to the lock on the cell. Eyes wide, and with a shout, he slams down on the lock. When he sees no response, he backs up to the end of the cell and flies full speed into it. He howls in pain, collapsing to the ground.

Seeing his determination is a delight and reaffirms my choice of method. I remember how casting Cogeria-Fiducia caused difficulty problem solving and how lazy Asinti’s demons were. Subject 3 shows both determination and self-directed problem solving. Unfortunately, he’s chosen this brute-force method rather than simply talking, and I blame that on the emotional manipulation clouding his judgment.

I approach the cell. I wonder what will happen if I give him what he wants? He looks up from his hurting hooves and looks at me with a pup-like whimper, skittering to the edge of the bars once more. He reaches, though it appears to take all of his mental fortitude not to whip his leg out to hit me. I extend a leg and allow his hoof to gently brush its surface. I back up again and he looks at his own hoof in awe.

I thought, given his initial rabid behavior, that I would have to kill him to prevent him from becoming a nuisance, but he appears so very happy at having been granted his request. It seems I penned that too quickly, as he is now looking back at me ravenously. There is another dash to the door and another reaching of his hoof towards me. Perhaps he realizes that he can’t actually reach me and is merely signaling desire or repeating a previously successful strategy. I check his thoughts, and the answer is no, he’s just feral. The slobbering and incoherent sounds he was making should have tipped me off. To avoid him getting in the way later, I bring forth the pistol I keep here and shoot him twice in the head before putting the gun back down. No need to waste any mana - I have a lot to get through today.

Subject 4: Earth pony male

I have Kirsi clean up subject 3’s mess and move on to subject 4. With the longshot ideas not yielding results, it is time to move to the main event: a semantic-focused spell. For this first test, I will keep it entirely within the bounds of semantic memory to see if it works well. If it does, the spell can save a lot of mana which will help when scaling this to towns and cities.

Once connected to subject 3’s soul, I identify the region associated with semantic memory and begin to make edits. I start by bucketing the memories related to me. This one doesn’t know much about me but does seem to know of my power. There are no associations I find that are directly opposed to me that I must remove. For example, while I can feel that he doesn’t like me, it seems to be an emergent behavior from a distrust of authority and an enjoyment of autonomy, which he currently believes is being restricted by me. None of these memories are bad and should be removed. If I remove the positive association with autonomy, he may not resist capture by an enemy. The same scenario also could be a problem if I remove the distrust of authority. For these generic ideas, it is difficult to have them not apply for me, but apply to the enemy, and I will have to engineer another emergent behavior that achieves this effect.

The key seems to be, as I reasoned before, in adding memories, as most beliefs are emergent behaviors from known principles. I find a spot of random noise which correlates with unallocated memory, and add semantic knowledge that I must be obeyed, that I am to be worshiped, and that he is loyal to me. The only thing left to do is to see if it has any effect without the addition of any emotional weight.

I begin with the standard circle walk, and he also exhibits the same hesitation subject 2 did. His confusion also matches, but it doesn’t appear to be as serious as subject 2’s, which I would attribute to the lack of emotional associations on the added semantic data. Semantic data is also likely processed by the consciousness in a way where it is less alarming. Commanding him to stop, I proceed with an impromptu questioning.

He answers in a tone similar to the other subjects, implying that his manner of speech was not affected by the changes I made. He does, however, begin one answer referring to me as “Your Highness”. I find the use of this specific title worthy of a bit more thought. Obviously, he has some idea that I am to be respected, but does he think I am below Queen Honoria of Wittenland? They say not to attribute malice to what can be attributed to incompetence, and the adage is proven yet again when I look into his mind to see he just doesn’t know his honorifics.

I question him on his unchanged tone, and he seems to only now realize that he should be more respectful. I ask him if there is anything else in his behavior he would like to reflect on, and he takes a moment to bow before adopting a meeker stance and apologizing. Interesting how he didn’t notice he was acting incorrectly but was willing to change when he thought about it. There seem to be missing metacognitive links with his new beliefs as he was almost not aware of them until asked specifically. I will have to try and add these in the future.

With this lack of awareness in mind, I ask subject 4 first if he worships me (he responded in the affirmative) followed by why he thinks he believes that. At first, he is unable to answer, but then he has a look of realization as he puts 2 and 2 together. He responds that it is because he has been mind controlled, and I ask him how he feels about that. His first comment is about how he doesn’t feel mind controlled, but then begins to panic.

It seems that, once again, self-identification has come into conflict with my alterations. He takes a page out of subject 2’s playbook and begins bashing himself in the head. I notice an interesting behavior as he looks at me, apologizes, but then closes his eyes and starts yelling and thrashing while resuming his self-flagellation. His thoughts tell me he started with mental conflict, but when he saw me again, he was overcome with guilt. When he realized he didn’t like that he felt guilty, he started doing anything possible to stop the thoughts or at least distract from them.

So, it seems that when adding no emotional connections to the semantic knowledge, subjects will feel guilty that they don’t feel more emotion. Also, when realizing they are mind controlled, subjects tend to want to return to a state of freedom. I believe that adding the positive emotional associations with me will allow the subjects to justify my use of mind control on them and that they will then not resist. I ask subject 4 to keep it down as I move on, and he immediately stops his bigger outbursts. It seems he is still obedient.

Subject 5: Earth pony female

From my experience with subject 4, I see 2 avenues for improvement. The first obvious emotional aspect is self-explanatory. The second is less so and regards metacognition. Subject 4 did not change his behavior until told to question himself. The semantic data was there, but he wasn’t aware of it. Like how fake Kirsi could not perform the skills of the original pony due to not having the knowledge of them, subject 4 did not know he had to act respectfully until he queried his own memories for how he should act. I understand most creatures go through life blissfully unaware and acting automatically, but this is evidence. I suppose I don’t question my every action either, so it seems I’ve met the kettle to my pot.

I cast the spell beginning in the same manner I did with subject 4. This time, I add metacognitive semantic data which will hopefully give her awareness of her loyalty to me. Conveniently, I am able to follow the metacognitive “strands” to the associated emotions and tweak them without using as much mana as it would have cost to start a search from all of nondeclarative memory.

I engage my telepathy and command subject 5 to begin the circle walk. She responds with an obedient “Yes, your majesty!” and begins. I note a small hesitation, but this is working out nicely so far. Telepathy reveals no confusion as to why she is walking in a circle or why she feels fulfilled when obeying.

Next, I move to questioning. She wholeheartedly answers that she serves me with her body, mind, and soul. If only she knew how true that was. I ask her why she believes as such, and she replies that she doesn’t need a reason. Not a great answer with no consistent logic behind it, but I am sure this will be a recurring phenomenon with creatures being unable to justify a reason given their philosophies and just having to confabulate not needing a reason to serve me.

I ask my final question regarding how she came to believe this, and she quickly replies with mind control. As she has seen the previous subject, it would be more surprising if she couldn’t figure it out. I give her a look that suggests I want more information. She stutters for a few seconds, but then comes back with the answer that she’s glad she was mind controlled so that she could serve.

Finally! She didn’t have a good answer, but the emotions and semantics worked together to make her justify it as a good thing. She was a bit slow in coming up with it, but this is the result I want my final spell to achieve. Mind control that falls apart at doubt or challenges is useless against an adversarial actor. What I have created is resilient___/

That’s an annoying line. I was reveling a bit too much in my creation that I admit a laugh escaped. A unicorn then, it seems, took the gun from my table and took the opportunity of my distraction to fire a bullet at me. I added a new layer of sensory spells to my being, so I was able to detect the firing and my dual consciousness meant I was able to react in time while laughing. I used my levitation to stop the bullet midair to demonstrate my power. I sensed the unicorn trying to fire more bullets, so I jammed the trigger so she couldn’t do anything more.

I stop laughing and drop the bullet to the ground while yanking the gun back into my levitation. It is immediately clear to me which unicorn was responsible, and I give her a sweet look of motherly displeasure. You were never going to hurt me, so there’s no reason to be mad, even if you did make me smudge my ink. I pluck subject 5’s name from her mind and order her to kill the unicorn responsible. This defiance must be punished, or it would set a bad precedent.

As subject 5 charges the larger unicorn and they begin a brawl, I ponder subject 5’s behavior during this incident. She was looking in my direction and would have seen the gun levitating to me, and yet did not attempt to warn me. Did she know I was safe? Was the control imperfect? Is she just an idiot? I must recall the state of her mind as it happened. I note subject 5 is winning the fight. A zealous blur of hooves repeatedly smashes into the eyes of the unicorn as the other cellmates watch.

Using my improved memory, I am able to remember and observe subject 5’s state of mind at the moment I started to laugh. She does acknowledge the gun. She then associates the gun with killing me, and that that course of action would lead to her freedom. She assesses that she doesn’t need that freedom as my slave and does nothing. Only after this line of thought does she begin to worry for my safety, but by this point, the bullet has already been fired.

I begin to work out the implications of this line of thought as I watch subject 5 transition to choking out my would-be assassin after repeated punches reach diminishing returns as she tires. I believe I can correlate the initial hesitation I noticed with her and this long train of thought before she thought of me. Even the few seconds she took to justify her own mind control could be evidence to my theory. While she has the semantics and the emotion, the order of her thoughts or the way she thinks was unchanged. That is procedural. Without the procedural memory, she wasn’t used to always thinking of me or justifying things for me, and thus took a non-optimal time to react, though I believe this will improve over time as the procedural memories are created.

As I sense the pony dying at subject 5’s hooves, I am reminded of the Omphalos hypothesis. The theory, well more conjecture than theory, is that when Faust or whoever created the creatures of the world, they must have been created with navels. Having not been born of a womb, there is no biological reason for the presence of a navel, but the idea is that Faust could have created the world at any given time with geological signs of aging or, in this case, belly buttons.

In my case, I am trying to create slaves who already know how to be my slaves and have “experience” thinking how I want. If I were to embed procedural memories of how to think that would normally be developed over experience and learning, it would be like Faust creating trees with age rings already inside. In both cases, there is the creation of something with the appearance of having a greater age.

Subject 5 returns to the edge of the cell nearest me, now covered in the blood of my assailant. She bows and says she hopes she was of some use. Oh, you have been, and more than you know.

After refining the spell on the rest of the test subjects, I can confirm that the lack of correct procedural memories is what led to subject 5’s slow thinking. I have developed what I believe is the final iteration of the single-target variety of this spell. I add positive semantic information about me while weakening other strongly positive semantic self-identifications. Then, I add metacognitive information about knowing about those memories and then follow those to the related emotional reactions. I then backtrack towards the semantic information and try to bridge to related procedures and incorporate the semantic data into the relevant lines of thought.

It does require more mana than I had hoped - enough to tire an untrained unicorn, but I am no unicorn. I am the most powerful deer to grace this continent and my will will be done. The cost is a small price to pay to remove the adjustment period. When I am casting this across battlefields and cities, I want a minimal delay before they begin actively thinking for me. I remand the custody of the living ponies to Anastasiya and instructed her to have the functional ones released from their prisons. Today I have to oversee the integration of many townships into the Viiradian hierarchy and check in on the purge. Soon, though, I will have a new tool that will make this much easier.

Author's Note

Kirsi is an OC. I read Viira's description, and it seems she is used to a life of luxury, so I assume she would not leave her homeland without a retinue of servants, and now we get to meet one.
Anastasiya is also an OC. The mechanisms of state are vast and complex and will require at least a couple background ponies (or griffons in this case) to facilitate Viira's plans.

I hope you like my attempt to port Last Thursdayism to My Little Pony.

August 23rd, 1011

I have tasked Anastasiya with setting up a testing ground for the area-of-effect version of my spell to be completed by the end of next week. This will require much more work than just moving ponies into my cells as I plan to test the spell at a number of ranges, and so will require regularly-spaced intervals of cells across miles so I can accurately judge the effect of the spell with distance. I also want to test over a variety of terrains and elevations, so I’ve given her some time to do the proper survey work and transport the test subjects.

In the meantime, I have a meeting with Cyneweard Stangaet. I met the stallion briefly at one of Ambrosius’ parties. He was a military strategist exiled from Wittenland for tactics dubbed “too extreme”. Now that I’m in charge, he wants to speak regarding my party trick. I recall the one he refers to. I entertained a group of nobleponies by making part of a town “disappear”. In reality, I destroyed the earth beneath the town to create a sinkhole, but certainly from the viewpoint of the balcony we were on, it appeared as though everything disappeared.

This meeting will most assuredly be about the military applications of my magic now that I am much more powerful. I’ll admit, I’ve had some ideas myself. I haven’t done anything too taxing since destroying Dunburh, and I long to make use of my full power again.

Cyneweard and I are at the edge of a mountain across from the ruins of Dunburh. I teleported us here to test the effectiveness of spell ideas we have on a city. This way, we can see its effects on buildings. Many are destroyed, but the ruins remain the largest collection of buildings in Viirad, at least for now. Of course, I could repeat the nuclear chain reaction I used to destroy Dunburh in the first place in every situation, but it would be good to have a variety of spells from which to choose from.

The first idea is related to my sinkhole trick - an earthquake. As I increase my awareness of the earth around Dunburh, I note how far my magical influence can now reach. Without scrying, I am still able to feel across the entirety of Dunburh in my grip as I simply shake everything.

Unexpectedly, Cyneweard and I feel the shaking from here miles away from the target- the ripple effects of my vibration must extend beyond my direct actuation of the ground. To see the results, I use the air as a scrying media to gain a view of the city. Usually scrying requires a reflective medium, but my mastery of the craft and sheer power let me use anything now. We observe the intact buildings shake and fall. Larger brick structures prove more vulnerable to damage as they seem to collapse at a much higher rate.

I also do want to see the effect this has on ponies, but the city has basically completely died since I destroyed it. The ponies didn’t seem to understand the concept of magical radiation, and many died from radiation sickness in the fallout of the blast. The ones who lived realized the danger and moved out. I suppose the effect on ponies is obvious. While the ground shaking does not directly kill, collapsing buildings do.

As I stop shaking the ground, the number of buildings still standing irks me. Most of the buildings, even in our former capital, are one to two story wooden houses, which have shown themselves to be naturally earthquake resistant. Cyneweard notes that taller buildings are more vulnerable, and that wood, being flexible, can withstand vibration much better than materials like concrete and brick.

It is a fact of our world that these short, wooden buildings are the most prevalent kind of building. Not being able to destroy them is not acceptable. I do have a spell, however, that may help. Mildgyd’s Magnet is a spell which works like a reverse magnet. It also works on things other than iron. The boring way to use the spell is to refine ore, but I sense a fun way to use it here.

I briefly teleport back to my library to grab a book with the spell before teleporting back. Cyneweard is quite startled by my sudden disappearance, but I explain to him my idea. The spell was designed by Lady Mildgyd to be used in cannons, but the story goes that the magnet repelled the gold of her jewelry, blasting her away never to be seen again.

If I tune the spell to repel all metal and then cast it over a town, I imagine I can get the spell powerful enough to rip the nails and screws from walls and bring down wooden structures in a thunderous blast. Luckily, the spell is well documented, and I am able to quickly prepare this variation for casting.

Moving the scrying window to a relatively intact row of houses, I pump a large amount of magic into the magnet before releasing the electromagnetic shock. The wave of force itself is invisible but is indirectly observable as the houses collapse one after the other. The effect on the streetlights is especially entertaining as the structures nearly instantaneously hit the ground in a crumpled mess. Cyneweard notes the buildings in the distance of the scrying image are still standing. For this to be useful on a strategic level, I will have to cast it with much more power.

After a few repeated casts, it is clear to me we are reaching diminishing returns. Due to the inverse square law, strength declines quickly from the point of casting. The spell is also not directable, causing a lot of energy to be wasted as the field expands in all directions equally. The proper way to use this in the future will be repeated, relatively small, casts of the spell targeted across infrastructure. Cyneweard says, in a tone much too enthusiastic, that when the Kasan army resists us, their supplies will take much longer to arrive with railroads warped beyond recognition and buildings and roads damaged. While it isn’t as fun as using the spells to commit mass murder, which they obviously can, I see the strategic benefits.

Another spell I wish to test is also a variation of my party trick. In order to conceal the town falling into the sinkhole, I conjured a black fog over the region. With a small alteration to the spell, I could conjure additional particulates in the spell and cause everycreature engulfed in it to die. Cyneweard feels it is basically mustard gas with extra steps and it comes with all the related downsides. However, I believe it can have strategic benefits for Viirad.

With scrying, I can cast this spell at an almost unlimited distance. A blanket of this cloud over the capital of the opposing nation should prove quite effective. I move my scrying window to a nearby settlement visible from my vantage point.

I perform the normal conjuration of the fog over the settlement, and then add a second conjuration of dust and wind. I could do poison, but that would be a much more complex particle. Besides, suffocation with a side of lung damage is much faster. I stay lazy with the dust, as that should help the particles form with irregularities that make them better at cutting through flesh.

The visibility through my scrying medium becomes low, and I can only make out shapes for a few blocks. I adjust my scrying window to be closer to the ground. Through it, I see a group of ponies run by, dashing indoors to avoid the dust. One pony doesn’t make it. His barely open eyes are marked with the red of irritation. His pace is slowing, coughs growing in frequency. The coughing grows stronger and stronger before then slowing down as he slumps on the side of a hay bale. Blood flows freely from his mouth as he stills.

Across the street, a mare bangs on the door to a home. The homeowner looks in fear at the mare from the nearby window while holding her 2 young foals. The mare appears to beg the mother to open the door, but she knows she shouldn’t. Dust storms are common in Viirad, though definitely not this aggressive, because of the magical energies of the machine warping the climate, and every family knows not to open the door during one of them. Young foals are especially at risk, as they are sensitive to the dust, and it could cause lifelong damage.

As the mare begins to violently cough blood over the door, the homeowner looks like she can’t bear watching her suffer any more. She opens the door and pulls the mare inside as fast as she can before closing the door. Her indecision has taken years from the mare’s life.

The mechanics of wind make it difficult to affect creatures indoors. Even if I were to develop a poison variant, the dosage of poison would likely be too small to kill before most got indoors. Regardless, there are many good reasons to still use this deadly air even if it doesn’t kill everyone it touches. It is a massive impediment to any logistical activity, as low visibility and dust damage can eat into efficiency. Also, the danger outside forces ponies to stay indoors, and the costs related to medical care add up and can put stress on a healthcare system already strained by war. Cyneweard also notes factory production decreases as creatures cannot afford to physically exert themselves as much with all the dust in the air. Overall, this result is satisfactory, and I will be sure to remember this spell combination.

As our meeting concludes, Cyneweard wants to discuss a spell idea that will be more useful in direct combat. Using magic to cause fission reactions is a useful skill, but the large-scale nature of the explosions mean they are better used away from the front. The magical radiation also poses issues across a wide area regardless of allegiance, and I would prefer something more one-sided.

I could perform a standard beam spell and lay down devastation from above, but there are several problems with that. Firstly, I have to aim it at targets individually. While it will sometimes happen, I doubt my enemies will line up their tanks nicely for me to destroy. Even if they do at first, doing this once means my opponents adapt and then stop being so stupid.

Secondly, this is not very efficient. Aiming from such a distance takes time, and then the actual killing takes time. What if they are in a building? Or hiding in a cave? If I were to kill one pony every 10 seconds, I would only be able to kill 360 ponies in an hour - a paltry figure. My time is much better spent with larger scale spells rather than individually trying to target each one.

I could reduce targeting time if I were closer to the action, but the final problem is that the nature of the horizon dictates I must be high in the air to see further. However, my back of the hoof math tells me if I were a half-mile in the air, I would still only be able to see about 40 miles in the distance. If the front is a thousand miles long, I’m not really affecting the greater battlefield.

My time is not best spent killing individual creatures, so the solution is instead using it to debilitate my enemies’ entire front. Giving an army of a hundred thousand a few percentage points of advantage has far more effect than me doing everything. The armies of today run on guns, cars, and tanks. I suppose Viirad’s doesn’t yet, but it will soon. A spell to disable their mechanical contraptions will ensure my forces can always have the upper hand.

Cyneweard’s suggestion is a time spell, revealing just how bad the universities outside of Equus are. I ask him what he means, and he describes the process sometimes seen in fiction where the experience of time for an area is accelerated and the things inside age and break. A ludicrous concept, but he doesn’t seem to understand why. It seems I’ll have to demonstrate.

Such spells that increase or decrease the speed of time in a given area do exist. Star Swirl the Bearded wrote much on the subject, but most of his work evidently didn’t make it to the Riverlands if it is still so poorly understood. Improvising based on my past readings, I conjure a bubble of time acceleration in front of the flight path of a nearby bird and then direct Cyneweard’s attention to it.

As observed from our region of normal time, the bird flies at a normal speed. Once the bird enters the region of accelerated time, it instantaneously begins to travel at double speed before just as quickly returning to its old velocity when exiting the region. While I could use an inordinate amount of energy to accelerate time to be much faster than twice the normal rate, it would actually help the enemy. From their perspective, they would perceive time as normal, and have more time in which to act. Yes, from our perspective they will age a century in a minute, but that means they will gain a century of time to, say fire one bullet a year which would be a hundred bullets in that minute from our perspective.

The real answer with a time spell would be to slow down time for our enemies, but creating just the small region I just did as an example was mana-intensive enough. I do, however, have a better idea.

When Cyneweard speaks of aging, what does he really mean? He means the natural processes of being in the world eventually take its toll. That toll, for most modern mechanical parts, is rust, or more generally, oxidation. There is no need to try and literally age our enemies when we can perform the same process that causes aging to be harmful. A large-scale, weak transmutation spell can remove the electrons necessary in just enough of a volume to break most machinery.

The spell already exists, called simply “Decay”, but it usually isn’t cast on such a large scale. I prepare another scrying window over a more intact street of Dunburh and perform a naive scaling method to increase the area of effect of the spell. Cyneweard looks appreciatively at the red tinting forming on the abandoned carts. Based on my mana output, I believe I can cast this over a very, very large area. It may not kill, but it is certainly not healthy to be in. Also, while it isn’t very dramatic, increasing the failure and turnover of enemy equipment will be very useful for helping my less well-equipped armies take on enemies with fancier guns and radios.

It was nice to take some time to let loose my full magical might for a change, but there’s something so impersonal about these strategic spells. I suppose it is just how the world is that, in order to effectuate large-scale change, one must be detached from the individual. There are simply too many creatures in the world to think about each one. Although, that being said, I can get my enjoyment when I zoom in like I had to with the deadly air. I’ll have to be sure to watch the individual effects of my mind control spell in the future once it becomes more a job of casting it over towns rather than the personalized soul experiences I cast now.

Author's Note

The backstory for the in-game spells Groundshock, Electromagnetic Shock, Deadly Air, and Decay.

My calculations of the horizon being 40 miles away at 0.5 miles in the air is based on an assumption that the EaW world is half the radius of Earth, which I took from the EaW map being smaller than the base game world map.

Also, I had to look up what units of measurement are used in the show, so I scraped the transcript of every episode. I found everyone uses customary units except one time that Pinkie says "centimeter".
One of the lines I found also gives me a headcanon that Twilight Sparkle invented nonstick pans. In the swamp fever episode, a sleeping Twilight mumbles about a "9 by 13 inch pan" before waking up and yelling "Nonstick pans!" Teflon was invented in 1938, right before WWII. This means, taking the relative time together, Twilight lived at the perfect time to invent nonstick pans, at least in the EaW universe. Of course, maybe she's just thinking of an article she read about the new invention, but the specificity of the dimensions of the pan suggest to me that she's thinking of designs, as if she were designing it herself. (Ignore the baking scene from earlier in the episode)

August 30th, 1011

At last, I can finally get back to the business of mind control. I received a memo from Anastasiya that the testing grounds are complete with coordinates. Upon teleporting to her, I am greeted by a landscape of rolling hills. Anastasiya is there, and, after showing proper deference, she presents me with a diagram laid out on a table with what she has set up.

10 cells at 1-mile intervals (as the crow flies), each with 5 test subjects. 20 miles away is a second testing ground with the same arrangement of subjects. Additionally, there are a few special cells in each setup whereby I may test more irregular casting situations. For each grounds, there is a cell at high elevation, an enclosed cell within a Fair Day cage, and an underground cell. From our vantage point atop a hill, I am able to spot the first, second, and third mile markers for the cells, but the others escape my vision. Beyond Visual Line Of Sight (BVLOS) casting will be important.

I have formalized my mind control spell and algorithmically described it in preparation for conversion to an area-of-effect spell. Previously, I had individually fiddled with the individual souls I was casting on. I was wary of personalizing each casting too much due to the goal of creating a universal spell, but that doesn’t mean I was perfectly consistent. This will be a test if my generic version has mass applicability. I believe it will, but there may be exceptional circumstances which will reveal themselves in time.

There are two kinds of area of effect spells. The first is modeled as a point charge where strength of the spell follows an inverse-square distribution. Generally, spells are modeled as a function applied over reality, where a coefficient multiplied to the function determines strength. In the case of, say, Mildgyd’s Magnet, the force applied to metals is the strength which decreases from the point of cast. A piece of metal placed near the point of cast will accelerate to a higher final velocity than a piece of metal placed further from the point of cast.

The second kind of area of effect spell is the field-based model, where a uniform field is cast over an area. Unlike the point-charge model, these spells can take the form of any shape, though it usually works better to use geometry that is easy to visualize. Take the standard shield spell; it is generally cast in a spherical shell. Within the field, the strength of the spell function is equal, which is apparent in spells like Decay where rust forms at the same rate across the effective area.

Which model to base my mind control spell on, however, is still up for debate, hence the two testing grounds. In the case of the point-charge, I would cast the spell at a specific point where strength would then decrease over distance. Mana-wise, this is the much cheaper method of casting. The question is how potent the effectiveness will be over a distance, and how the lower strength version will affect creatures.

For the emotional components of the spell, that’s easy to determine. The function I have designed changes emotion proportionally based on strength, so creatures further away will have a lower level of positive sentiment towards me. The semantic components are less predictable though. Adding a semantic association is not a continuous function like emotion, but rather discrete. Classical spell theory states that discrete spell functions encounter what is sometimes called the fabric of reality. If the spell function has a high enough strength coefficient, its effect occurs. If the spell does not have a high enough strength to overcome the fabric of reality, its effect does not apply. There is no proportional relationship, merely a question of if it passed the limit or not.

The issue becomes, then, measuring the fabric’s strength. Different spells encounter different levels of resistance, and, as I understand it, for my mind control spell, each semantic association will have a slightly different fabric strength to contend with. This test will serve as a good measurement for which fabric strengths dominate.

The other upside besides mana cost when it comes to the point charge is easier BVLOS casting. If I cast the spell at my altitude, the spell’s influence will end at the horizon, which, at sea level, is about 2 miles away. However, if I cast the spell in the air, I can affect a large area beyond the normal horizon without having to change the spell at all.

In the case of the field-based model, I would conjure a region of reality where my spell takes effect. The upside here is a uniform application of the spell, which leads to uniform results. The downside is that, due to the first law of magical dynamics, I don’t get that energy for free and have to use significantly more mana to apply the function over an area rather than a point. BVLOS casting with areas also requires much more thought to maintain the mental structure of the area.

There also lies the question of what shape to make the field. The world is not entirely composed of flat terrain, so I would have to make a shape which extends into the ground and into the air relative to the local terrain in order to guarantee results. If I were to travel by train, mind controlling a nation as I moved through it, the best result may come from a thin and tall rectangular prism perpendicular to the train. Moving along the tracks, the thinness would not matter, as every location near them would be affected at some point. A problem for later. Today, my concern is with effectiveness. Once that has been determined, then I can work on optimization.

I will start with the point charge method. I’ll cast the charge at an altitude of approximately 500 feet, which should provide enough range to cover the entire test range. Applying my generic mind control spell function onto the point-charge structure, I will the spell to take effect at my chosen position with a power level that should allow me to observe the effect of the decrease in strength over distance. There is no visual effect beyond the glow of my antlers, but I am able to sense the emission of psionic energy propagating through the air. To prevent my own soul from being affected, I cast a shield spell that blocks the incoming magic.

I just now realize that this means that Anastasiya will be affected too. I look to her to see a somewhat apprehensive face looking upwards. I understand her feeling. Even though she already serves me, anycreature would be afraid to come under the effect of mind control. The spell’s effect is obvious as her fearful expression slowly returns to normalcy, and then what could perhaps be identified as contentedness.

The inspections at the cells at the first, second, and third mile mark were uneventful. The spell went as planned with the ponies in the cells greeting me on their knees. The fourth mile mark is where things began to get interesting. Upon teleporting Anastasiya and I to the cells, I noted 4 out of 5 ponies obviously got the full effect of the spell, but for the fifth one, a male unicorn, it was less clear. When I appeared before them, there was some whispering and surprise at my arrival. 4 moved to bow, while the fifth looked oddly at the others, hesitating before joining in. I questioned him regarding this, but it was clear his fear of being punished prevented him from speaking his true thoughts.

Entering his mind directly, I can better observe the effects of the spell. According to his memory, the 5 ponies in the cell didn’t notice when the spell went off besides a bit of an “off” feeling. It took the 4 fully affected ponies a few moments to realize their new loyalties, but the fifth noticed he did not think the same. Apparently, the four began to share in their new identity under me, and the fifth made non-committal responses when questioned. However, when he participated with them, the emotional response from the spell was still present. The discrete, semantic parts of the spell did not fully take hold, but the emotional, continuous parts did.

It seems he is experiencing something like one of my test subjects from last week did. While these five seem to know they have changed, none have said the term “mind control” out loud. I bring it up to the unicorn, and he has a flash of terror in his eyes before he tries to hide it. He doesn’t know I’ve been in his mind and know of his conflict. I wonder why he is relatively calm about the situation compared to the previous test subject with this condition whose first instinct was to hit herself in the head.

Is it that this pony is more tactical and manipulative? Is it that he is just less put off by the situation? While those could be factors, I believe it mostly has to do with the social dynamics of the different situations. Previously, I was personally interacting with the subject, and she was on display for a group of free-willed ponies. Here, this subject is amongst those loyal to me, and has already been trying to blend in. There is a clear social pressure to keep his true conflict hidden, and combined with a well-placed fear of bodily injury from myself or the loyal ponies, he’s acting rationally.

The social dynamics are also likely why they didn't mention mind control in their conversations with each other before I arrived. Mind control is still seen as a morally bad thing, and associating a bad thing with me in a conversation with other loyalists could be damaging to one’s reputation and body. I would imagine that, in contrast to these random prisoners, those with tight bonds would be able to bring it up with each other.

I tell him not to fear his thoughts and that he’ll feel better soon. I believe that, with enough time faking it, the existing emotional response will add semantic information to the existing nondeclarative memories. My words of comfort seem to unsettle him as he realizes what they mean.

The next cell followed the trend of spell effect degradation. What is interesting though, is how that didn’t change the social dynamics between the ponies. At mile 5, 3 ponies did not have full semantic information embedded, but the confidence of the other 2 caused them to feel like they had to conform.

Arriving at mile 6, I immediately spot an interesting sight. Three of them are plugging their ears with one even banging her head against the cell bars. The fourth and fifth are sitting next to each other, with one looking conflicted while the other speaks my praises to him. Fascinating. Noticing my presence, the one clearly fully affected by my spell, an earth pony mare, stops talking and approaches the edge of the cell seemingly just to behold me.

After complimenting and showing me deference, the mare explains that she was trying to help the others accept me, but that only the one stallion showed any signs of openness to the idea. The stallion she referred to blushed at the idea, perhaps out of some notion of guilt or shame. He gives me a respectful head nod, but that’s it.

Meanwhile, the others plugging their ears look more afraid than ever. One was on the side of the cell closest to me when I arrived, and he has now gone to the other side and closed his eyes. The mare banging her head on the bars, just noticing me now, stops for a moment. It looks like she doesn’t like what she thought when she saw me, and she screams before returning to attempting to give herself a concussion.

It seems that, with only one pony out of five fully under my control, the incentive dynamic to fit in was not as powerful, and the others, the second pony excluded, felt they had enough reason to simply try and block my words out. It would be of no surprise to me that, if they didn’t cover their ears, they could easily fall under my sway just from hearing the first earth pony talk about me. I theorize that that is what they started thinking after the spell came down, and thus have been trying to protect themselves ever since.

I teleport us to the cell at the seventh mile, and this time, do not immediately notice any movement. In the cell, all five sit in silence, nervously not making eye contact with each other. As I near, there is a clear shift as 4 of them move away from me. Only one remains. She also looks afraid, but not as much as the other ponies.

I ask her why the others are acting as they are. Stumbling over her words, she says the others are “feeling strange” about me and are feeling very uncomfortable about that fact. I then bring the question to herself, and she pauses, unsure of whether she should answer. She says she also feels positively about me despite the fact the army killed her father last week, but that it isn’t strong enough to worry about and that she is able to ignore it. I appreciate the candor. My observation is that, without at least one pony fully affected bringing me up, these partially affected ponies can keep off the topic and mostly ignore it without having to erase their own memories the hard way. I would also associate the more tepid response with the weaker emotional association that is created this far out from the point of cast.

Cells at miles 8 through 10 continue the trend. At cell 9, the majority unaffected ponies console the lone pony emotionally affected. Cell 10 didn’t even know the test happened. It seems that the mana I used to cast the spell was rather accurate for gauging the different levels of reactions.

The cell at high elevation was 100% fully affected despite being at the 5-mile mark due to the increased vertical proximity. I was curious to see the effect on the ponies in the cell that was in a Fair Day cage. While the pegasus Fair Day invented his namesake cage to block out electromagnetic radiation, he discovered later in life that a difference in material can cause a mesh to also block out magic. I had Anastasiya construct a crude one from rock. Stone is well known for its ability to store magic, and I have found the rock in Barrad to be quite potent. Unfortunately for me, the cage did work, and the 5 ponies in the cage were just like those at the 10-mile mark.

The final cell at this grounds was the underground one, and I instructed Anastasiya to keep these at least near a cave entrance to have some hope of being affected. As I expected, the ponies were affected far less than their raw distance would suggest with only 1 fully affected pony at a distance of 5 miles. The dynamic was similar to the other cell like it, but this pony was apparently more charismatic, as he was preaching about me to the rest, none of whom were trying to plug their ears this time.

What I do like about this method is its mana-efficiency. While the social dynamics help, what I do not like about this method is the amount of, for lack of a better word, nutcases it creates. I dislike their unpredictability and extreme behaviors. Even the unaffected ponies were at least calm, but these partially affected ponies seem to have a high chance to perform self-harming behaviors, which are not ideal for soldiers and factory workers. I could recast the spell multiple times over overlapping areas, but that merely mitigates the issue rather than solve it.

I teleport myself and Anastasiya to the second testing ground. She gives me a map which covers the locations of the next set of cages, and I begin to form the region for my field-based version of the spell. I choose a rectangular prism with a width slightly larger from the largest deviation from the crow-flies line in the middle of the layers of cells. For height, I visually estimate the height of the hill we are on and mimic it. I make the length of the prism extend the full 10 miles.

Casting a spell with such a large volume of influence and complex spell function takes a lot of mana, especially when most of the region is out of my sight. A lot of the region of influence is also wasted as much of it is, for example, empty air or in the middle of a hill. However, this should guarantee full application on everyone in the region. I hold it for a few seconds for the spell function to apply to everycreature in the prism. Upon completion, I release my hold on the region, causing the spell to dissipate. I then teleport the two of us to the first cell to begin collecting data.

While the spell mostly worked as expected with full application on all 50 subjects with little of note in regard to the spell, I do want to document the most hilarious interaction I had with the subjects at the 6th mile cell. I arrived at the scene of a fierce argument between the 5 subjects in the cell. At first, I was worried that the spell function didn’t have enough time to work on one of the subjects, but what revealed itself was much funnier.

When one pony saw me, he called on everyone to shut up and kneel to me, their goddess. He and two others did so immediately, one hesitated before complying, and the last one stood defiantly before me.

He looked me right in the eye and said so confidently, “I only kneel for Viira Lehtola, and you’re not her.”

I’ll admit that I was more than a little amused, so I asked him who he thought Viira was. Hilariously, he responded that he didn’t know, but that he was pretty sure Viira was a unicorn or a kirin or some race that had magic. He then said he knew for certain I wasn’t Viira because Viira couldn’t be a deer because deer don’t have magic. The secondhand embarrassment from the ones kneeling was palpable.

I asked them if this is what they were arguing about, and, as it turns out, it was. The three who knelt immediately all had familiarity of me either from following the news or being affected by the purge. The other two had been in their prisons for a while, and they still hadn’t heard of me. Thus, when my spell came down, their lives were rewritten to serve someone they didn’t even know. The one that hesitated was at least partially convinced, but couldn’t be sure, while this final stallion still didn't get it.

I asked Anastasiya where she found this fine specimen of ignorance. She looked through her notebook and found he was a minor noble’s son arrested for assault outside his mother’s lands. Just educated enough to be confident in his knowledge, but not educated enough to actually know anything. It does explain the confidence, I suppose.

Though this encounter was entertaining, it is demonstrative of an issue I will have to address. This incident will likely be repeated as I cast the spell across lands far from Viirad. Perhaps once I have conquered Griffonia creatures will know who I am because their governments will make a point to inform their citizens of the coming threat, but before then, I am certain I will be mind controlling many more isolated communities and ignorant individuals who will not know who I am. It would not do to have civil wars break out in my name due to misinformation about who I am, so I will have to make sure I have a well-established media presence so those I conquer will know who to kneel to.

As for this one, I decided to take a quick trip through his soul to implant my identity into his mind. His 180 degree turn from denouncing me to groveling before me, begging for forgiveness was quite gratifying.

An inspection of the high elevation and underground cells showed the region did not reach either, as I expected. It simply takes too much mana and effort to maintain a spell over a region that large, and I plan to do this for extended periods of time. The Fair Day cage, however, was ineffective at blocking my magic, as the field permeated throughout the region rather than traveling as a wave.

In the end, there is no perfect option. I could travel the nation unleashing point charges, but I would likely create many mentally damaged creatures on the periphery. Because of this downside, I believe I will have to go with the field-based method. It is, importantly, consistent. I will have to spend a lot more mana which means the process will take more time as I will have to rest, but I believe the quality improvement will be worth the additional cost.

I instruct Anastasiya to deal with the test subjects, and I teleport back home to my tower. With a spell made, I now have a nationwide tour to plan.

Author's Note

Whoops, had to invent a theory of magic there. I was going to include equations before realizing I got lost in the sauce.

The two-mile horizon is based on the half-radius planet. On Earth, the horizon is 3 miles away.

I do enjoy the Fair Day / Faraday pun.

September 2nd, 1011

I had a meeting with Leofwine and Eadmund today for an update on the progress of rail and train construction. I showed them my plans to travel the nation and set them a deadline of the end of the month to finish the current rail construction project from my tower to Dunburh Lake through Viirum. Eadmund looked rather worried at being able to meet the deadline and requested more time. I asked him what the limiting factor was in regard to finishing the project, and he said there were still two mountains that required tunnel excavation before the railroads could be finished, so I agreed to magically perform the boring later today.

Though the Viiradian railroad is not set to complete for a few weeks, I will not waste the time from now until then. I’ve arranged for a ship to travel down from the border with Wittenland to the ruins of Dunburh, where a significant amount of the population lives. I’ve also arranged for another ship along another distributary of the river that travels from the northern border to Viirum. The first ship is scheduled to leave this afternoon, so I must complete the excavation before then.

The excavation proved relatively straightforward. While I am well studied, the field of industrial tunnel excavation is certainly not something I have read about in the past. However, Eadmund was able to provide me with a brief description of the general processes given different levels of technology, and I was able to glean the relevant principles to perform the task myself.

As I learned, the 2 parts of tunnel construction are removal of the material and strengthening of the archway to prevent collapse. For dislodging the material, I set a series of point charge explosive spells along the path I desired. Once the rock was loose, I was able to apply force via levitation to remove the material while levitating the top of the tunnel to prevent collapse. Finally, I applied a transmutation spell across the tunnel to regularize the rock formation and distribute weight across an arch shape at the top of the tunnel. It won’t last forever, but it will last long enough for the construction ponies to add reinforced concrete.

After I had completed excavating the second tunnel, I was struck by another idea, hence why I brought out my journal. If I’m here with this construction team, I have the opportunity to increase their efficiency through mind control. I took the liberty of asking Eadmund where he got his workers from, and he informed me that there were two main groups of workers. First was the few skilled craftsponies from his company mostly organizing the effort, and the second was made up of unskilled laborers with meager contracts basically approaching indenture. In the wake of my purge, there are a lot of these ponies with hungry bellies who need work.

While hunger is a powerful motivator, it is a rather short-sighted one. Once one is no longer hungry, there is no more motivation to work or better oneself, and I’m sure these ponies have not an ounce of ambition. I would imagine they have some notion of improving their lives, but it may be a dream with no clear steps forward rather than a goal they move towards each day. I think I can help them with that.

Standing with Eadmund looking over the works, I tell him of my intentions, and begin to cast my spell. Enclosing the varied ponies within the region of influence, I sense their minds shifting. Upon completion of the spell, nothing seems to change. Spikes continue to be driven and rail continues to be transported. I suppose I wasn’t expecting them all to suddenly turn to me and bow, but I did expect to see some change.

Perhaps the issue is that they have not connected their current situation to me directly. To remedy this, I magically enhance my voice and declare that all must listen. I tell the ponies that their work directly contributes to me. In the instantaneous moment between sentences, I begin to consider if I should add something about rewarding good work.

Unlike the philosophers of old who attempted to describe systems of value by observing the behavior of creatures in society, I have the opportunity to shape what creatures value and therefore what they seek. The question then remains, what is the best way to allocate labor resources? If I demand all creatures serve merely based on their devotion to me, that puts no incentive for growth, and I would have to manage a bureaucracy that allocates resources a la Stalliongrad’s managed economy.

The fundamental end goal of my policy should be that each of my subjects is in the role that, when taken together, provides the most benefit for me. I could individually assess this, but I have already written on the issue of doing everything myself. Thus, I must foster a system which self-allocates creatures into the role that best serves me. I am able to motivate the masses via mind control, but they must then interact with my society in a way that sorts them into their correct bin.

In a harmonist society, the invisible hoof allocates resources. In Caramel Mark’s vision, it is the state, while the supremacist philosophy has a free market with state direction or oligarchy. The Aquileians call it “dirigisme”. The free market rewards the correct allocation of resources with money, creating a financial incentive to improve, while the communists reward better work with recognition via the state unrelated to market design but internal standards. Supremacists have a mix of both.

If I promise better results for better work, I am directly acting as the state in providing incentives for work which may or may not be the correct market equilibrium that maximizes my output. Perhaps one of these ponies would be better suited to research work, but for my command today, continues to work here as a construction laborer and never discovers their greater potential. If I do not promise such things, and the pony leaves, there is no guarantee that they will discover that greater niche.

I am, unfortunately, not omniscient. In the complex interplay of these thousands of lives, I must rely on systems which can approximate maximization of output. The free market has shown itself to be effective at increasing productivity, but has also increased leisure products and consumer goods, which I believe are unnecessary for my subjects to maximize output to my benefit. The Karthinian saying of “bread and circuses” is irrelevant, as while I may not be able to remove the need for bread, I can change my population to replace their circuses with a desire for more service to me.

Therefore, the supremacist nature of directed market economics seems to be the best choice. My subjects, though, will not be motivated just by greed, but by a desire to increase their economic output for me. Apt, as my philosophy is, by definition, a supremacist one as it does believe in its own superiority such that it is incompatible with other worldviews and must dominate over others. I don’t see much in common between myself and Eros, Beakolini, or the Discrets, but if the wars of reclamation they are all waging are any indicator, it is clear there is at least a passing similarity in our geopolitical ambitions.

With my resource allocation reasoned through, I do add a statement about rewarding good work. This job is not fueled by a demand from the market, and therefore reward is determined by me and my proxies closer to them on the organizational hierarchy. With my dual consciousness, I am able to think through all of this in that momentary pause between sentences, and not alter the cadence of my speech. My writing, however, cannot keep the pace of my thoughts. I have already switched to a 2-pen method of writing where I can write 2 letters at a time, but I require an even greater speed. Perhaps I can acquire a stenotype machine to increase my pace.

Time will tell whether my words increase the efficiency of these workers. For now, they give me a bow before returning to their work. I make sure to tell Eadmund to be meritocratic as to avoid wasting resources like these state actions tend to do across the world. I decide to add a small implication that he will be mind controlled if his performance appears to be impaired by his free will, but he responds that he does believe in meritocracy, and displays positive sentiment towards many of Queen Honoria’s meritocratic reforms in Wittenland. There are two kinds of egomaniacs that were attracted by Ambrosius’ invitation to Barrad: the kind that will do anything for themselves, and the kind that will do anything for an ideal. As the former, I am glad to see Eadmund is the latter.

With my business concluded, I must go to the ship at the Wittenlandian border to begin my first voyage and first implementation of mass mind control. I am wary that my magic must not cross the border as to not draw the ire of the Wittenlandians too soon.

Day one of the trip down the river has concluded, and I have learned much of how the rest of this mind controlling process will go. This was only a half-day of travel, but the tiredness I feel speaks to the magnitude of the scale of this spell. Upon ordering the ship full steam ahead, I cast the field of control in a rectangular prism as I had designed with a very wide width. I aimed for 10 miles in each direction. Population surveys have shown that most creatures live quite close to water even in our modern age of plumbing. Though I will only be traveling along major rivers, and later railroads, I should be able to capture a great majority of the population in my spell.

As planned, the spell field region extended upwards a few thousand feet, and then downwards from the deck of the ship to the river. For width, based on the speed of my ship, I chose a relatively narrow 50 feet so that each creature got a few seconds within the region as the ship passed by.

This river journey will take us 4 more days, and I plan to be casting for 8 hours of each. I feel the great power I am drawing upon weighing on my body already, so I foresee each day will be strenuous. While I have nearly unlimited power to draw upon, I can feel my biology failing me as my body was not designed to be a conduit for this much magical energy, so rest and nourishment will be paramount. Luckily, I always bring my servants with me. Once this is completed, I will have another 2 weeks on another channel of the river. While I don’t look forward to the inevitable malaise I will feel, I do look forward to seeing the results of my work.

Author's Note

As the focus shifts from research to implementation, these journal entries are going to get further apart in time.

September 7th, 1011

As it seems, apotheosis is no cure for sea legs. After spending 5 days on the river, I have scheduled a day to catch up on the manners of state that require my presence, and I begin another 2 weeks of voyaging tomorrow. To describe my physical state, I don’t feel tired after having rested, but I do feel the toll of my power in other ways. It is difficult to put into words, but perhaps the best way to articulate it would be a “fraying” of my being. The more magic flows through me, the more the edges of something begin to blur. Without a model for what is occurring, I can only speak to my own sensory experience. I would say that the edges of my perception, not vision or touch, but experience of the world feels like it becomes less distinct at the end of a full day of casting.

It is something I will have to manage. So far, the feeling has passed come each morn, but I believe that if I continue for too long like this, it will worsen, with the end result likely being death. A limiting factor to my conquest of the world, but as with all obstacles, I will overcome.

Today, I have to deal with the more mundane activities of running Viirad. It seems many letters have found their way to my desk during my trip even though I specifically instructed them to be redirected to my ship. At least some of these are dated with today’s date. This one seems interesting: Ceadda wishes to speak about a pony who turned up at his office.

This is delightful news. The pony who suddenly appeared at Ceadda’s office was an earth pony mare named Wynflaed who claims to work for the Skapatoria. According to her, she was born in Barrad, but her family fled Ambrosius to Kasa with the help of a Skapatoria agent. Wanting to pay it back, she herself joined the Skapatoria program and was in Viirad to rescue others from the Pentarchy’s rule, though now it would be my rule, of course.

However, during my recent river travels, it seems she was caught in my spell and had a sudden change of heart. Realizing her potential benefit to me, she sought any means necessary to speak with me, including sneaking into the office of the head of my army. Apparently, the event was quite dramatic, with Ceadda walking into his office to find Wynflaed sitting on his floor surrounded by documentation proving her identity. She had hoofcuffed herself to show she wasn’t a threat and left the keys on his desk. I confess I did laugh at the absurdity when he told me the story.

To make a long story short, Ceadda verified the information, and I was able to meet Wynflead today to discuss what should be done with her. I performed the necessary due diligence to ensure her mind was fully mine, and also inquired about her current state of mind regarding what must be a total change in ideology and allegiance to ensure mental stability.

She replied that she was still anti-slavery and pro-freedom a la the Kasan way, but that, for the glory of Viirad and myself, all else is folly and that sometimes, dirty methods are necessary. My method does not remove the subject’s original knowledge and ideology, but merely layers adoration of myself on top of it. Therefore, the subject has to reconcile the two themselves. I can only imagine the conflict that must be going on in her head. Actually, for me, that turn of phrase is incorrect. I can, and did, look in her head, and I found no conflict. Whatever grappling she had to do must have been resolved. I suppose all creatures live with contradiction at some level and are not necessarily constantly wracked by conflict.

I connected Wynflead with the Watchers in the Darkness, and she’ll work with them to break the codes of the Kasans and give us valuable information about the partisans they are training across the nation. I suspect many will be training in isolated areas, and will remain untouched even after the railroad is complete. She says Kasa is preparing for an offensive war of liberation against us, unaware of my intention to invade them. Information like this is vital, and seeing her eagerness to betray her compatriots for my sake was quite intoxicating.

Aethelflaed also had some very good news to share. She informed me that her office has been flooded with letters and ponies at the door asking what they can do to help. Local nobleponies have reported a sudden desire amongst their ponies to aid my rule, not to mention the nobleponies who were influenced by my spell as well. Already they are making large donations as well as showing an interest beyond their debauchery for the good of my nation for once.

The issue now is what to do with all of these new volunteers. Willingness is one thing, but Viirad currently lacks the bureaucracy to organize and deploy all of these ponies efficiently. Furthermore, it is unclear what the correct role for them should be. I don’t have enough factories for them to work in, nor enough schools to educate them in.

For the former, for the moment, resource extraction is not the bottleneck. With Leopold and Eadmund’s mines running smoothly, the limiting factor is the industrial equipment required to turn those raw materials into military hardware. I need to have a meeting with Aelfraed and Eadwig about ramping up production and building new factories.

The latter will prove much harder to fix. To have a school system, I require educated creatures to teach. Unfortunately, the only well-educated ponies around are the nobility, and they are currently required to manage their own territories. With my powers of persuasion, I’m sure I could get them to abdicate and leave the management to me, but my bureaucracy is not well-developed enough yet to handle it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have destroyed most of it with the rest of Dunburh. No matter, I have already instructed Aethelflaed with beginning the process of expansion, but these things take time, even with all of the goodwill from my newly mind controlled subjects. The fact remains there are not enough well-educated ponies in Viirad to produce a more educated workforce. The universities of Kasa will be a welcome addition to Viirad when the time comes.

At the moment, the best use for them is perhaps in the infantry. I have stockpiles of outdated guns available to equip them with, but that will not do for long. Even with my magic, a well-equipped army can put these farmers to shame. Alas, expansion is still necessary to build up an army that can defeat Kasa’s, and there is no time like the present. Speaking of the army, I have not yet cast my spell upon them. When I return from my next voyage, that will be first on my list.

There is no time to waste. If Wynflaed is to be believed, the Kasans seek to “liberate” the ponies here. Their leader, Yrmthu, is the child of Barradian refugees, so I don’t doubt her willingness to do so. I must establish total control of the ponies of Viirad as soon as possible and attack them before they can attack us. 2 weeks by ship, and then hopefully another week by train if Eadmund finishes laying the tracks soon enough. I suppose I can undertake the journey even with the tracks partially completed, but, regardless, Viirad must be ready to fight soon. I will simply have to bear the burden of my powers no matter the consequences.

I am frustrated by the slowness of it all. With my mind present, any individual task can be completed in mere minutes, but the problems to be solved number beyond the minutes in the day. I am aware the best course of action is not to solve each individual issue relating to industrial buildup, military buildup, and civilian buildup, but to focus on solving larger scale issues, but the knowledge I am spending my time correctly doesn’t diminish the irksome feeling caused by the lack of order in the present.

I have complained enough. It is time to return to work. My ship will depart tomorrow morning following the river to Viirum, but I still need to organize the ship for the second week which will travel the other distributary in the direction of my tower.

Author's Note

Luckily, I did another playthough of Kasa to get more information. I totally forgot about the Skapatoria.

September 21st, 1011

Having traveled the rivers of Viirad, I am ever more aware of the dividing line between my lands and the lands not subject to the weather anomalies of the Machine. To the north, Wittenland’s falling of the leaves is underway, though I believe they have a more unicorn-focused tradition compared to the Running of the Leaves in Equestria. It has been years since I left Barrad, and I had almost forgotten what it looked like to have seasons.

Since Ambrosius took over, the usual traditions to change the seasons have been ineffective, and the weather has remained chaotic due to the influence of the Machine. It is hot and dry, and yet blizzards occur year-round. It was quite the sight to see the dust storms on the right of the ship, and yet clear weather visible through the dust on the left. The erratic weather phenomena make it quite hard to plant crops in Viirad, but also make it quite hard to organize resistance when all efforts are waylaid by bad weather and ponies have to ensure they don’t starve.

When the time comes to occupy Kasa and the lands beyond, I should bring the same weather phenomena to my new lands. My home will become theirs. My troops are used to the weather here having been born in it and lived through it their whole lives. I’m sure no other place in the world has such uniquely hostile weather, which would give my forces a decided advantage.

While Wittenland’s army is much more modernized and capable compared to my own, I did not see any infantry waiting on their side of the border. I suppose they haven’t done anything about Barrad for a generation, so there must not be any military urgency to reclaim their territory. Queen Honoria’s rhetoric regarding us, however, has been quite belligerent, so I would not put it beyond her to invade. I believe, however, that we have time. I understand that since she dueled the old queen, White Star, for the throne, she has been dismantling and rebuilding Wittenlandic society to make it more meritocratic - a process that has likely destabilized the country.

I worry that her reforms will mean a more formidable foe when they inevitably do march south, but that is offset by my relief that they have cut ties with the rest of the River Coalition. While still nominally a member of the Treaty of Coltstream, I don’t see Aquileia or the Griffonian Empire invading like Grover II did anytime soon given their ongoing war with each other, leaving the treaty relatively useless. Perhaps Honoria was tired of the lack of aid regarding the Grphyussian Cossack raids and stopped treaty cooperation. Whatever the reason, when war comes whether by their hoof or mine, they will be alone.

The second week’s journey brought me from the border of Austurland in the east down to the Kasan border in the south. Austurland is the only deer nation in Griffonia, and their vikingar have given the rest of us an unsavory reputation of all being pirates. They are still quite backward with their thrall system and tribal governance. I understand their Jarl, Ygritte Bylgjasdottír, was a berserker herself in the past, though it appears she has taken some steps to modernize the nation. I will be the one to lead the deer of this continent - not her.

During my casting along the border, I kept the area of influence of my mind control spell solely on my side of the river, but having done so for a while now, I had an idea for a new use of my previously discarded point charge spell. The reason I don’t cast over Austurland now is to avoid having to fight a war before I am ready, as actions like this are a clear casus belli. However, once war begins, there is no reason to hold back. I could, for example, travel close to the front lines and use my point charge mind control spell over the enemy. Not only would I gain followers, but it should sow chaos behind enemy lines as many suddenly find themselves on my side. The downside of the partially affected also becomes a positive as the uncertainty and mental instability it causes harms enemy effectiveness. My soldiers, who already worship me, would be unaffected, or simply believe harder in me.

I shall have to test this when I invade Kasa. On the topic of the nation, my river journey was cut short by where the Kasans draw the border with Viirad. I was close enough to see their border markings. I was also able to see their military encampments. Mostly Zebras, of course, but a healthy minority of griffins, deer, and ponies too. The heterogeneity irks me. Their “free state” exists only because no one bothered to conquer them. They rely on Macawia for everything and are just stock for the vikingar of Austurland.

But I should not be too critical. They may not be rich or well-educated, but they are far ahead of Viirad in such regards. The consequence of ruling a nation that was, until recently, run selfishly by a mad count is a lack of economic and technological progress. I am but one doe, and I can’t make up for the rest of my nation’s shortcomings. Furthermore, if the state of the borders is anything to go by, Kasa is the only nation that currently recognizes me militarily as the threat I am and will be. I would say, “congratulations”, as they’ve thus volunteered themselves to be first under my hoof.

I am still preparing invasion plans, but first I must finish establishing control of my own ponies. Eadmund reports the railroad is complete, but only one day ahead of schedule despite my mental intervention. My theory is that the ponies did work hard even before I arrived whether to meet quotas assigned from on high or self-motivation, so my spell only had effects on the lazy or unmotivated, who were only a fraction of the total population. This suggests that productivity will not increase significantly in the coming weeks, and that the correct path to increasing production in the economy will be industrial design and education, which are not things mind control can easily fix.

The first train is set to begin its tour of the nation tomorrow with me on it. Once that is complete, it will host migration of workers to urban areas where they can be more productive in factories, once we have the necessary factories built. It should also help in transporting cargo like raw materials, but also finished goods, around the nation. This is good news, but the limiting factor still remains guns, or, more specifically, artillery. Factories are slow to build with no nation willing to directly sell us expertise or machinery, and Leofwine estimates it will be only after my planned invasion date that the next factory will complete.

This does mean I will have to invade Kasa without stockpiles of semi-modern weaponry, but the invasion cannot wait. A few more months after that, Kasa will attempt to invade Viirad to free the ponies of Barrad. If the newspapers my agents have delivered to me are to be believed, the influx of Barradian refugees has caused a generation-long crisis in Kasa known as the Xatisa. Invading Viirad is part of their solution, as it means no more refugees. That is the practical side, but they also have their ideological reasons for hating my rule.

They do not, however, seem to know who I am. They are still referring to my nation as “Barrad” and are only now starting to realize that I am in charge, not the whole Pentarchy. This means the average Kasan is not going to know who I am. From my ranged mind control tests, I know this can lead to an unsatisfactory mind control outcome. Therefore, I must spread my name across Kasa to ensure a smooth transition.

Of course, the question remains of how. I would imagine printing pamphlets and teleporting them across the country is not the best course of action. Not only would it be using time and mana I’d rather spend affecting the battlefield, but many of the Kasans are as illiterate as my ponies. The traditional approach would be to send a diplomatic cable, but Barrad never had proper diplomatic connections with any nation, and thus Viirad inherited nothing in that regard. I could leak information about myself to the Skapatoria through Wynflaed, but the intelligence agency knows about me already, and the lack of public knowledge is likely a choice to not tell the public much. Intelligence agencies never do.

I could invite a journalist from Kasa to Viirad to spread my story. I’m sure they all want the story but are just too afraid to travel here to get it. I would imagine that none of them would be too excited to accept an invitation either for fear of their lives or freedom. However, their consent is of no concern to me. I will simply have to take a journalist, have them interview me under duress, and return them with the transcript. Given a few days of imprisonment, I’m sure their absence will be missed, and the media would then eat up the story of a reporter’s mysterious disappearance and equally mysterious return with the scoop of the decade. The narrative seems compelling enough to be spread.

I can invade only when the story has properly propagated through their media channels. If I were to do the interview immediately after my train journey, I estimate it would take 3 more weeks for the story to be published and properly reach even the illiterate backwaters. Thus, my earliest invasion date would be a month from now. Begrudgingly, I can accept it.

Author's Note

There was a teaser for a rework for the country of Barrad by the EaW team today. I hope it doesn't invalidate this whole story.

The Running of the Leaves is interesting. "Fall Weather Friends" describes it as a Ponyville tradition, but that also the leaves don't fall without intervention. This means every nation needs its own tradition for season changing.

October 1st, 1011

The train tour across the country has completed successfully. Aethelflaed reports that expansion of the civil service “continues”. Currently, she is limited by speed of communication. Viirad has only just begun to be able to produce radio equipment, most of which is currently being used by the military. Telephone wires, while present in large cities, do not connect the rest of the country, leaving the fastest mode of communication still being mail. The new railroad should speed things up, but Aethelflaed notes Ambrosius did not operate a public post service during his rule of Barrad, the infrastructure for which has been a part of the aforementioned expansion of the civil service. Press and mail are the primary ways in which information flows, and both will need to be developed enough to properly absorb the existing institutions I will be taking over in my conquests.

On a related note, I have just teleported Fernando Zessa back to Kasa. The Watchers in the Darkness recommended him to me as a journalist who was respected for truth and somewhat famous, maximizing the chance the story would spread on his return. The day I got off the train, I teleported myself to him after scrying his location and then teleported him into a cell here in Viirum. After a few days of isolation, I deemed him interview-ready and did the interview. The interview itself was quite entertaining.

The stenography machines I acquired proved their worth as my staff was able to use one to transcribe our conversation. Following it, I used a spell to duplicate the transcription. I left him with one, of course, but I kept one for myself as well, which I will put below for posterity.

Viirum, Viirad
October 1st, 1011
Interview by Fernando Zessa of Viira Lehtola

Fernando: Where are you taking me? What is this room? (Pause) You’re Viira Lehtola.

Viira: Well researched, Fernando. Please, take a seat.

Fernando: I suppose then my imprisonment is your doing, your (Pause). Sorry, what are you claiming to be these days? Is it “Your Majesty” or do you feel more like “Your Eminence”?

Viira: It has occurred to me that no proper form of address has been made for deities. Even Celestia is referred to simply as “princess”. In lieu of an existing term, my servants have stuck with “milady”.

Fernando: Right, I see. (Pause) I see this conversation is being transcribed as well. No audio recording? Surely you could have spared a record for me.

Viira: Enough. It seems your wit and bravado have not been deteriorated by your time in my cells. I believe you have surmised your purpose here, but to ensure there is no misunderstanding, I will state it. You will interview me. I will give you the transcript of the interview, and you will publish a story about me in Kasa. Continue your impertinence, and I will kill you.

Fernando: (Pause) Very well. (Pause) May I ask as to why you chose this moment for this interview? I understand there is much unrest in Barrad at the moment, but the news that crosses the border is little.

Viira: I am preparing for war. When I invade, I expect all Kasans to know the name of their new goddess.

Fernando: Oh. But what of the rest of Pentarchy? Is this a unified decision? Also, this is the second time you’ve referred to yourself as a deity, but I can’t recall this ever being the case in the past.

Viira: To answer both of your questions, I have gained great power, magical and political, in the past months. I killed Ambrosius, and the rest of the Pentarchy now bows to me. I have renamed the nation Viirad in light of this new change, and the rest of the world will soon fall under my hoof.

Fernando: That is fascinating. There are rumors in Kasa about all of this, but no one was able to confirm any of it. (Pause) Sorry, can I have a notebook and pen? I know you’re transcribing this, but I need to write some of this down.

Viira: So be it. (Gestures)

Fernando: Well, I think what every Kasan wants to know is - why?

Viira: Specify.

Fernando: All of it. We can start with why do you seek this destructive path in life? You’re a seer, so wealth and power are practically guaranteed for you. Why go to Barrad and start an empire? The common interpretation seems to be that you are simply a maddeer, but I would like to hear what you have to say about it.

Viira: It is true that wealth and power were given to me in Olenia. However, they were only given to me because I was special there. Most of my time was spent helping a nobledeer’s crops grow or with some other asinine task. It is quite dull. Many of the other seers I knew chose to move to Hindia for a change in scenery as they haven’t had a natural-born seer in hundreds of years, but the Hindian Yarils are no different from the nobledeer in Hjortland. It was stifling. When I saw the magic of the other races, I sought to achieve the same power they did, and I couldn’t do that in Olenia.

Fernando: But why not? With the wealth and power afforded you, couldn’t you buy the tomes you needed?

Viira: You understand nothing of magic, Zebra. Did you know that there are only a thousand seers in the world? That means there are no magic schools in Olenia whatsoever. Books are helpful, but only to an extent, which means all of my training came from learning from other seers. The books are all also written by unicorns and changelings, whose magic differs from my own. I left Olenia because there was no other option to increase my powers.
Fernando: I see, so you traveled the world to gain magical knowledge. When did that desire become one to rule a nation, and as you said before, the world?

Viira: Oh, that was always the plan. What use is power if it is not used? Look back to history to see the nations that dominated the world. Equestria would be nothing without their princesses. In ancient history, Tambelon was led by the magic of the Father of Monsters, Grogar. Look how the Yetis did it. They possess no magic, but what was it that the Storm King sought from each of the kingdoms he conquered? Magical artifacts. Everycreature knows magic is the way to make your mark on the world.

Fernando: But what of the griffons? They’ve had their empires over the course of history without the same overwhelming magic.

Viira: That is what separates the good and the great. No griffon empire has lasted like any magically backed empire has. Grover II, Arantiagos, they rose and fell. The Storm King’s empire, without inherent magic, is already almost all gone, but yet today, we still both sit under Celestia’s sun. Observe what Faust has decreed upon the world; so many races blessed with magic, and yet so many without it. All the magical races have had their fair share of time, but the deer have been left behind. I am different. I have power. It is my responsibility, no, my right to assert my authority for all of deerkind.

Fernando: Well, that explains the why, but surely not everyone agrees that it should be you, right? Wouldn’t Austurland and Olenia disagree you should be the divine ruler of all?

Viira: I have no illusions they, or Kasa for that matter, will bow willingly, but that is of no importance to me. I will make them bow like I made the Barradians bow.

Fernando: Through threats of violence? That doesn’t seem like a sustainable practice. I don’t think it would be too far-fetched to suggest your philosophy is not, er, mainstream.

Viira: On that we can agree. I have mind controlled a significant portion of Viirad’s population, and I will soon do the same for Kasa and beyond. Who knows? Perhaps you will be affected as well.

Fernando: (Nervous laughter) I’m not leaving here without a, um, mental adjustment, aren’t I?

Viira: Oh, I don’t plan to do anything to your mind today. If I were to mind control you and then send you back, that reduces the probability that the story will spread. If your editor found out you were mind controlled, I don’t think she would publish your story. I’m not taking that risk.

Fernando: If I am not under your control, I could also not report on your story at all. Isn’t that a risk as well?

Viira: You’d really give up the scoop of the decade? Besides, maybe I’ve already influenced your subconscious to make you want to get published.

Fernando: Have you?

Viira: You tell me. Do you feel mind controlled? Do you feel like you have to get this story published?

Fernando: I, uh, well. Yes, to the second part, but, um, no to the first.

Viira: Good.

Fernando: Good because you have mind controlled me or good because you haven’t?

Viira: Well, we wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise now, would we?

[Transcript continues]

I look forward to seeing what Zessa makes of this. I also gave him photographs of myself and the new flag of Viirad. With this information the denizens of Kasa should be well equipped to recognize myself and my nation within a few weeks. In the meantime, I must reduce my magic use to recover from my extended use of the mass mind control spell and complete invasion plans with Ceadda. I still feel charged with magic residue from my lengthy castings, and I must be ready to cast again upon the start of war.

Author's Note

I tried to estimate the number of seers in the world given their supposed rarity but also prevalence in the tech trees of the deer nations. Hindia has deer tech with seers despite Twinkle Sprinkle's guide to Ostkranbi suggesting there are no seers in Hindia. I solved this apparent contradiction by making Olenia just export a bunch of its seers.

November 15th, 1011

The invasion has stalled. General Oleander informs me that, while incremental gains have been made, no breakthrough of the Kasan lines has yet emerged. Despite my magical intervention of teleporting forces into advantageous positions in the plentiful mountains of the border, Kasan forces have generally been able to retreat in response, preventing a full rout. She informs me that our best hope lies in the east. If we are able to break through to the Seguran Peninsula, we can cut the army off from most of their supplies from the rest of the country, trapping their forces in the western part of their country. It seems my intervention is once more required, and I have just the spell planned.

I am currently just beyond the Viiradian border south of my tower, just close enough to hear artillery fire in the distance. I have elected to keep my time at the front minimal, as being nigh immortal is a far cry from the real thing. There is a kind of joy I take knowing that half of the explosions I hear are from shells fired in my name. In any case, I thought it prudent to document the effects of my mind control spell as I had before to gauge its effectiveness. I have no doubt it will be effective, but how much so remains an open question.

There is also the matter if the common Kasan soldier knows enough about me to act correctly. Surely, they have been briefed on and know through social osmosis of their enemy and the “dark magic” of Barrad, but knowledge of me specifically could likely only have come from Zessa’s story. It was quite an interesting read, portraying me in an unflattering, downright villainous way, which is unsurprising. “Polite in a condescending manner”, “easily angered by perceived ignorance”, and “no regard for the sanctity of life or liberty” was how he described me. Accurate enough, I suppose. The Watchers tell me the story was quite a hit, but even they cannot tell me about the goings on of the more remote and illiterate Kasans.

Before I begin, I first open scrying windows into various points along the front. Most begin with relatively bad views, but after adjusting them, I can get a decent view of a few trenches close enough to see faces and other identifying characteristics. In one trench, Kasans of all colors and races are running around, perhaps moving to a better position. In another window, I can see the steady rhythm of a Kasan artillery crew firing shot after shot. If I listen closely and calculate the delay due to the speed of sound, I can even hear each shot after it happens from my vantage point.

I cast the point charge variety of the mind control spell. I choose a position further out and slightly higher than when in testing as I am further from the targets. The nature of the horizon works in my favor, as though I cannot see where I wish to affect, the enemy lines are visible from the position of the point charge. A few seconds pass as the spell takes effect.

In my view of a trench, the zebra closest to the window is sitting under a covered part of the trench performing maintenance on a rifle. She appears to feel something, causing her to stand. The once loud battlefield begins to reduce in volume. She sees 2 creatures, an earth pony and zebra stallion looking confused as well, having stopped their activity of moving a crate. The earth pony suddenly looks warily at the other two, causing an inquisitive look to form on his zebra friend. The mare, seeing this, begins to look at the pony in the same way.

Without warning, the earth pony grabs his rifle and points it at the other two, causing them both to back up before he asks them if they felt anything. The two zebras shout that they did, the mare raising her hoof in a non-aggressive, de-escalatory manner. The earth pony calms somewhat but seems unconvinced of the loyalty of his comrades one way or the other. He locks eyes with the mare and asks, slowly, if she feels different now. They seem to trade knowing looks as she pauses before replying hesitantly in the affirmative. Still twitchy, his rifle snaps to the zebra stallion as he asks him the same question. He looks confused, unsure of the right response. Eventually, he stutters out a “No?”, which the pony doesn’t seem to know what to make of. The zebra begins to try and talk the pony down, reminding him of their friendship, which seems to calm him.

A shot rings out and the zebra instantly collapses to a bullet to the side of the head below the helmet. The zebra mare drops her sidearm to the ground, putting her hooves up as the earth pony wheels his rifle around towards her at the sound.

“Hail Viira!” she yells, “He said he didn’t feel different! That means he’s not one of us, right?”

He exhales and puts down his rifle before replying, “I was trying to make sure! What if he was? You might have just killed an ally!”

Before she can answer, they both flinch as the sounds of nearby gunfire resume. They quickly move into the nook where the mare was fixing her rifle. From my scrying, I can see that several similar events occurred throughout the trench, leading to similarly bloody results. I believe the zebra stallion was partially affected by my spell but was ashamed and so wished to hide those feelings. Combined with believing his comrades were unaffected, he answered he didn’t feel affected, and thus outed himself to the mare. There are other possible scenarios, but I calculate this to be the most likely. However, the remaining two will likely have to live in uncertainty.

Simultaneously, through the window viewing the artillery gun, I can see the spell taking effect as the unicorn levitating a shell into the howitzer stops loading and looks around. There is silence and the exchanging of looks, before their commanding officer suddenly begins to shout once more. He announces a new target, and another zebra begins to shout new directions for moving the gun. Two zebras immediately begin rotating the gun almost 90 degrees, bumping an unsuspecting third zebra out of the way. He is confused, but hobbles back to his position. Looking at where the gun is pointed, he questions the others, asking why they are deviating from their previous fire mission.

The unicorn loader and one of the zebras operating the traverse mechanism exchange nervous looks. The artillery commander also appears uncertain for a second before quickly regaining his composure.

He takes a look over at his fellow creatures before yelling, “Hail Viira!”

“Hail Viira!” comes the response. Some raise their hooves to indicate their loyalty, not wanting to be branded heretics for an insufficiently enthusiastic response. One response is hesitant, but that is forgotten at the absent response of the first zebra. He looks incredulously around him at his comrades-in-arms, as one raises a rifle to him. The word “traitor” is thrown around by the stallion but also by his former compatriots at him before he is summarily shot.

Slowly, they resume aiming the gun. I notice the one who previously responded with hesitance; perhaps she is a partially affected pony. She seems to be horrified but continues her duties. Suddenly, my vision is obscured entirely by light as an explosion tears through the entire crew. When the dust settles, just two zebras show immediate signs of life. It appears another artillery crew had the same idea they did. Interesting that the first thought they had was to fire on their fellow troops. They have no knowledge of the spell I used, but they did know that they as a group were affected. Maybe the fact that there was still at least one unaffected among them was what made this commander confident enough to believe they were the only ones affected, but I believe the real answer is that he was simply overzealous and did not think it through.

A messy response. The mind controlled do not know if they are alone in their experience and cannot identify one another. The lack of knowledge as to the greater spell also leads to friendly fire as has been demonstrated. My attention is drawn to a scrying window where a band of Kasan soldiers is trotting decisively through a trench. They meet a lone unicorn soldier, and the zebra at the front of the band yells out to him.

“Who is our goddess?” she asks him while aiming between his eyes.

“Viira! Viira!” comes the response. He is quick and carries naught but a slight tremor in his voice.

Satisfied, the zebra lowers her gun and bids he travel with them as they seek to make contact with my forces. He joins the band, and they move further along the trench. I realize that I have not told my soldiers this was a possibility. They will likely not be expecting a message and will view these new converts with much suspicion. I shall send a runner later with the information, but I fear in the future, should my communications be intercepted, that warning in advance would cause my enemies to seek shelter before the spell. Only instructing my forces afterwards seems to be the solution.

The group continues along the trench before encountering a small group of zebra soldiers. Another standoff occurs as the uniformed Kasans point their rifles at each other distrustingly. This time, the new group is first to speak.

“Are you more of the crazy ones?” they ask. After a second of deliberation, the group loyal to me opens fire, killing their former compatriots before they have a chance to fire back. The interaction brings a smile to my face. Those not under my control have no idea what is happening and will hesitate before killing their friends and allies. Those under my control have some idea of what is happening and know to shoot first. This group also knew that they would be considered “crazy” by the unaffected Kasans, but stuck to their newfound loyalty to me rather than take that as a reason to doubt.

I do wonder, however, how they were so quick to shoot. I didn’t change any of their moral compasses, so surely killing their comrades would be much more difficult than this would make it seem. Perhaps it is simply selection bias. The ones who are loyal to me but were slow to react during these encounters have a higher chance of being killed, making it more likely any interaction I would see would involve the more trigger-happy soldiers, as they live to see more encounters. Maybe the reduction in their positive semantic identifications towards Kasa eased their consciences.

Fascinating results. The spell has had all the effects I wanted. It disorganized their troops while forming groups loyal to me. The friendly fire is regrettable, but acceptable. It could be an avenue of improvement for later, but incorporating a mechanism for the mind controlled to identify each other seems like a system that can be exploited. These messy confrontations should be less vulnerable to exploitation, as there is no known procedure to develop a countermeasure for. If the Kasans, or anyone else for that matter, try to develop a procedure to identify the loyal in this situation, the problem for them will be that those who are mind controlled will also know of the procedure and imitate it.

Repetition of the spell across the eastern half of the line seems to be the obvious next course of action. Upon informing my own troops of the situation, an advance should be significantly easier with the front collapsing to infighting. As for those turned to my side, using them immediately to fight their brethren doesn’t seem like a good idea as their organizational units have all been broken. I could, however, use them as an auxiliary force or disperse them amongst my soldiers to replace the fallen. Let the march to Seguro begin.

Author's Note

For those that don't know, Oleander from Them's Fightin' Herds is in EaW in Barrad as a general. Velvet, Shanty, Pom, and I think Paprika are also around in various places.

December 2nd, 1011

I’ve just been given a most interesting radiogram from the Watchers. Within it is the location of a building used by the Skapatoria for intelligence gathering. Another building to be destroyed I thought, but the message also details a newly started investigation into my mind controlled soldiers taking place at the building. This is a perfect opportunity to see how my control fares in adversarial conditions.

I have chosen this time in the morning, 8:54am as the clock on my desk reads, to open a scrying window into the nondescript building as it should be near the beginning of the workday. I have read of such technology to broadcast images across radio waves as we do with sound, but I have never seen a television myself. I would imagine the experience is much like scrying, though I believe the radio signal can currently only carry black and white images. I don’t imagine such devices to be of much use for me though, as the equipment, as I understand, is quite conspicuous - the antithesis of the invisibility of a scrying window, though I suppose scrying can be sensed if one is so attuned.

I find myself once again using the air as a scrying medium. I did bring my traditional scrying bowl with me to Barrad, but it seems I can’t be bothered to get up to use it. I wonder if godhood is making me lazy. It would take me less total energy to just walk over and use the water and bowl to scry, and yet I have decided to scry from my desk, using the reflections of light off of air particles to scry rather than the less mana intensive task of doing so in the water. Perhaps I simply have assigned using physical energy a higher cost than using mana, as now, only one of those things is finite for me. While mana conservation is an interesting topic, Amdoe’s law states this kind of micro-optimization is ultimately irrelevant, as the mana used is orders of magnitude less than the mana I am expending in order to wage war.

After a small adjustment, I can see through the scrying window an earth pony mare in a cell. The cell is guarded by two zebras who are sitting at a table nearby, playing cards. I would surmise they don’t see her to be much of a threat, as their rifles lay unused leaning on the wall. The mare sits silently, looking somewhat down. It is as I would have guessed. My spell does not provide an antidote for the ails of life, merely a purpose to hold on to through them. How strong that purpose is, I am curious to see.

Two more creatures enter the room. A unicorn stallion in a lab coat is escorted by a pegasus mare as the 2 guards barely give an acknowledging glance from their game.

“Has this one been any trouble?” asks the pegasus.

“Not even a peep,” comes the response.

The scientist then takes this moment to ask, “And where did this poor soul come from?”

“According to the army,” the pegasus takes a second to check a note gripped in a wing,” she was captured near Horsford castle in the west during the first days of the war.”

The imprisoned mare perks up slightly at the reference to herself but doesn’t make eye contact. The pegasus and unicorn approach the cell, the scientist taking a moment to look at her from different angles before his horn begins to glow.

“So, anything of note?” the pegasus immediately asks.

“Hang on a second,” the unicorn says, closing his eyes to concentrate on a spell. My magical senses do not transfer through scrying, but I think it is obvious that he’s performing a standard magical sensory sweep of her body to check both for bodily health and magical anomalies.

“You say she’s mind controlled?” the scientist questions, a puzzled look occupying his face.

The pegasus answers the scientist’s question with another question, “Well, you’ve read the papers, right?”

“I have, but from my analysis, there’s no magic at work here at all,” the unicorn says, dumbfounded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the pegasus replies, joining the scientist in confusion.

“I’ve run a scanning spell, and I’ve found no evidence a spell has been cast on her. Are you sure she’s mind controlled?” the scientist says, repeating his question with new emphasis.

The pegasus, who I am now confident is a Skapatoria agent, hesitates for a moment before responding, “I thought they all were.” She turns to the mare in the cell and asks in a mocking tone, “Are you mind controlled?”

“I think so,” the mare breaks her silence with, “I wasn’t really a fan of the Pentarchy when I was conscripted, but, one day, we were all called to hear a speech from Viira, and after she spoke, she cast a spell on all of us. After that, I regretted all the previous negative thoughts I had about her, and knew I had to worship her. What else could it be but mind control, right?”

The faces of the duo are mixed. The combination of shock and horror on the scientist is contrasted by the subtly unsettled look given by the pegasus. Their lack of comprehension regarding the situation brings me a sense of satisfaction towards my work.

“Yeah,” the pegasus finally says, “they’re all a bit… weird. You never know what to expect from these quiet ones.”

“What?” The unicorn blinks twice before responding in full, “Er, hmm, well this is certainly not like any spell I’ve seen before.”

“C’mon doctor, we brought you here because you’re one of the foremost minds in Kasa. If you can’t make heads or tails of this, no one can,” the pegasus huffs.

“Hang on, I didn’t say there was nothing we can do,” the scientist quickly replies, “Just because I don’t know exactly what’s going on right now doesn’t mean I can’t figure it out. I just need more data.” He turns to face the caged pony, “So you admit you are mind controlled, but are not bothered by that?”

“Of course not! I know it’s supposed to be evil or something, but how could something so beautiful be evil? I used to be just a nopony farmer, but now I have a purpose!” the earth pony says with a sense of conviction, though her volume doesn’t rise significantly.

“Ugh,” the pegasus vocalizes,” that’s what’s so weird about the quiet ones. They just seem so normal until they say something like… that.”

The scientist’s horn glows again as he looks deep in thought before he concludes his thoughts and turns back to the pegasus and says, “Well Ms. Skies, I can confidently say that I have no idea what has befallen this young mare. You mentioned she was a quiet one? What other types of ponies have you captured?”

“All types. Most I would say are relatively quiet like her, but we have a few very loud ones,” the pegasus outlines.

“And when you say ‘loud’,” the scientist begins, before quickly being interrupted.

“Listen doc,” the pegasus starts, “you probably have a fancy schmancy word for it, but it’ll be best just to show you.”

She waves him back out the room and they head towards another. I adjust my scrying window to follow. This time, the guards are much more alert, standing at attention when the pair arrives in the room. The first to speak isn’t any of the captors, but the captive: a unicorn stallion with an anti-magic collar.

“Hi again Blue Skies ma’am!” he says with an aggressively friendly tone, “Have you reconsidered surrendering to our one true goddess Viira?”

“No, and stop asking,” she replies curtly.

The stallion notices the unicorn in the lab coat and begins talking to him instead, “And what about you? I haven’t seen you here before. What’s your name?”

The scientist opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off, “Don’t answer him!”

“Why, is there some magic with names involved?” the scientist responded with curiosity.

“What? No, it just makes everything he says creepier. I made that mistake and now he won’t stop trying to convert me,” she replied.

“It’s ok good sir,” the imprisoned unicorn continued, “Viira will offer you forgiveness for your transgressions against us.”

“How do you know that?” asked the scientist, “Is that an official policy?”

“Um, I don’t know if it’s written down anywhere,” he responds, “but I know in my heart that it is true! All hail Viira!”

“Yeah, at least the loud ones are obviously crazy”, the pegasus offers. An astute observation from my perspective. I wonder if he is delusional and believes the words he says, or if he is trying to proselytize and is changing his “doctrine” to whatever he thinks would have the best chance of getting him out. Perhaps both. I doubt he was like this when I first cast my spell - it would have been disruptive to the other infantry. My guess would be the stress of being captured and imprisoned forced him to latch onto his belief in me, turning devotion into obsession.

“Again, no traces of any spell,” the unicorn observes, “It’s like they were indoctrinated in a non-magical, propagandistic way, but from what the previous pony said, they are clearly being magically mind controlled.”

“Doctor, I don’t need to know how it works, just how we can beat it,” says the pegasus, “If you can’t find a way to undo the spell, exploiting it will do just fine.”

“Exploit it?” the unicorn muses aloud, “I suppose I have one idea, but I’m not sure how useful it will be. We know-”

“Not in front of him!” the pegasus interjects, pushing the scientist into the hallway and closing the door, “Ok, what were you saying?”

“Yes, well, we know they all share this loyalty to Viira,” the unicorn starts, “It’s artificially strengthened and a driving force in at least some of their personalities.”

“And?” asks Blue Skies, “So far that’s just meant fewer surrenders and a lot of rowdy prisoners. The ones here were deemed less likely to be violent by the army.”

“It should also mean they should easily trust and relate with one another,” the unicorn continues, “A strong group identity like this can’t be formed on nothing. If you were to pretend to be one of them, I’m sure they would tell you whatever you need to know. Tell me Ms. Skies, where did you grow up?”

“Retorno - in one of the refugee camps,” she replies, clearly curious what he will do with the information.

“Ah, my condolences given the occupation,” he continues, “But you know from experience that trust is an important part of these tight-knit communities. I grew up here in Seguro, but in the slums, and I know the difference between us and the more metropolitan elite is the trust in our local communities. I’m sure these farmponies have been trained their whole lives to trust in their communities, and if you were to present yourself as one of them, I’m sure they would be open to it. The universality of those who can claim to be in their in-group is a weakness as well.”

“It’s worth a shot,” says the pegasus. She then closes her eyes and starts taking deep breaths - an acting exercise perhaps? She then tells the scientist to stay put as she enters another room. I move my window again to follow. She ushers the guards out and approaches the prisoner, another unicorn.

“Hey, listen!” she whispers, eliciting a reaction from the unicorn, “I don’t have much time. I sent the guards away, but they won’t be gone forever. Hail Viira.”

“Hail Viira!” the unicorn responds, quietly but excitedly, “Oh my goodness, I was praying something like this would happen!”

“We can’t get you out today, but our goddess needs to know what transmissions your unit received before you were captured,” the pegasus fabricates.

“But why? And why me?” asks the unicorn.

“I don’t have time to get into the details,” the pegasus responds, brushing past her concerns, “Just trust me that you’re one of the only contacts I have, and we need to know what information could have fallen into enemy hooves.”

“O-ok!” replies the unicorn, her doubts quashed, “Um, I think the last trans

There’s no point in further dictating this conversation. They found a way to exploit my spell. I need to contain this before word can spread. At this point, the only pony who knows it works is this pegasus. I will deal with her first.

I grip her body telekinetically through the scrying window, focusing strength on her neck. She immediately wraps her hooves around her neck, noticing the lack of air. I take care to then hold her limbs in place so she cannot produce enough sound with them to alert those outside. I must make sure the captured pony does not scream either - her shock will not last. I narrow a telekinetic edge to a point and gouge a pinprick near an artery. Using the blood, I arrange the text “She lies. Your goddess demands your silence.” on the ground at the unicorn’s hooves. It has the desired effect, and the pony sits, slack jawed, watching the pegasus slowly choke to death while frozen in place via my divine intervention.

With the immediate threat neutralized, I consider my next steps. If I do nothing, the scientist will find the corpse and presume my actions, which would then confirm his theory. I could kill him now, but the same is true for any guards who heard the conversation. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. As they say, information wants to be free. I could use the nuclear option and cause a fission reaction in the building, but the proximity to Seguro’s city center is an issue. I need the city intact to serve me.

A smaller explosion just targeting the building could work, but a single lucky survivor who heard their conversation could be disastrous. I need a guaranteed way to kill every individual in the building right now. Well, all creatures need to breathe. I cast the deadly air spell, causing the entire interior building to become engulfed in a black cloud of dust. I whip the air into a frenzy, increasing its velocity drastically as the cloud shreds its way through the ventilation system. From my now limited vision, I can see the unicorn scientist casting a shield spell to create a pocket of safe air. Before I decide to break it myself, he coughs, weakening his concentration on the spell long enough to breathe in more of the high-velocity particulates. It is a vicious cycle, and he soon collapses.

Once I am confident everyone is dead, I release my spell. It is unfortunate I had to kill my soldiers as well, but the situation demanded it. This vulnerability is partially related to the trusting nature of the ponies I conscripted, but also fundamental to the spell. I require those affected to seek camaraderie in those similarly affected, as I will be casting it across cultures and ideologies who may hate each other, and I can’t have racism and discrimination be an obstacle to serving me. Thus, altering the spell to reduce trust seems ill-advised.

It is fortuitous I was able to witness the birth of this counter strategy. This will continue to be a problem going forwards, but it is not one I have a solution to. My goal must then be to mitigate it. Perhaps spreading knowledge of the potential for the use of deception by our enemies can keep even the more docile of them distrustful after being captured.

For this war, I am confident this interruption in their intelligence gathering will be enough to prevent systematic exploitation for long enough for me to win it. While compromise of low-level soldiers is one thing, I worry about the use of this technique on higher ranking officers, who may have more information. For now, new training is in order. I could simply command my soldiers to commit suicide rather than be captured, but the ponypower attrition rate would be too high given my current low population relative to my enemies. Loss of expertise is also an issue, where it would be better to reintegrate prisoners of war at the end of wars rather than lose their productive capacity permanently upon capture.

The Kasan front in the west is already collapsing from lack of supply. There is some concern for the sea crossing to Ilha Rosca, but it and Seguro will fall. The only concern now is time.

Author's Note

Amdahl -> Amdoe. Man I love puns.

February 25th, 1012

With the last remnants of the regular Kasan army surrendering, it is time to plan the shackling of the “free state”. I require all of the creatures in the country to properly integrate into Viirad so they may fight my next wars. In addition to soldiers, I need to rapidly expand the educational system to properly make my workers more productive. In the coming years, this will feed labor into the engineering sciences which I require for research and development of better industrial tools and weapons. I have no formal diplomatic ties nor business ties with other nations, and I am sure other nations will not be willing to export expertise or equipment to me even if I were to mind control the appropriate Kasan businesszebras.

That is the downside of fame, or perhaps more accurately, infamy. Zessa’s story about me has spread my name, but purely in a negative light. The Watchers are fully capable of performing industrial espionage, but the only way I will be able to compete with the developed nations of the world on the battlefield in the long term is a sufficiently built up research and industrial base of my own.

With the objective clarified, the problem of how to get there remains unsolved. I have been spreading the Barradian climate across my occupied territories, which has been effective at keeping the creatures compliant, but that is merely a reduction of resistance rather than a full integration. I could perform the same train journey I did in Viirad except across Kasa, but I believe there is opportunity for something else as well.

Kasa, while still being far more rural than any developed country, is far more urbanized than Barrad ever was. If what I desire is ponypower, the cities are relatively small areas for me to cast my spell on that can provide the warm bodies my army needs. There is some concern with wasting the most productive and educated on the front lines, but I can filter those creatures out. The benefit of having a mind controlled population is that one can use the honor system and have it not be exploited for a longer period of time. Simply asking the conscripted if they have valuable skills attained in higher education will work as they are incentivized to be honest to their goddess. Of course, imitators and charlatans will arrive seeking easier lives, but as long as the opportunity is only presented to the mind controlled, the filter will be accurate enough.

Specifically in the case of Kasa, these urban creatures will be far more educated than the ponies that currently make up the bulk of my bureaucracy. Mass mind control of all of them and directly incorporating them into the mechanism of my state will be highly desirable, especially as the country has doubled in size.

In any urban population center, about a third of the population is fit for the army. The rest are children, the elderly, the infirm, and the highly skilled. While overall, the number of 18-34 year olds is less than the one third number, cities tend to have more young creatures. Applying this to Kasa, I can conscript a hundred thousand creatures from the cities relatively quickly.

As for the rest, the older generation can steward the younger and both can work in the factories. This will likely be disastrous for population growth as I am, in essence, destroying both generations while removing most of the breeding age creatures from the equation, but the sustenance of Kasan cities is not my concern, especially in the short term. Perhaps when I control more of Griffonia, I will need to maintain a more sustainable population growth rate, but my immediate concern is replacing my ponies lost in the war with Kasans and absorbing their knowledge and institutions into Viirad.

Time continues to be of the essence. A newspaper from Austurland has just published an article written by the Jarl herself. In the article, Bylgjasdottír denounces me by name as “evil incarnate”, and my actions an “affront to deerkind”. She also says something about how the deer minority in Kasa deserve freedom, which I find to be highly hypocritical given those deer are mostly thralls liberated by the Skapatoria who probably have no love for the country of their enslavers. It matters not - their state is illegitimate. All deer should be under my stewardship. To me, this merely rings of their economic loss from no longer having Kasa as a helpless raiding target.

I will invade them as soon as the army can move to the border. They have only recently begun to modernize as Viirad has, and my troops should make quick work of them aided by my magic. Once I control all of southeastern Griffonia, I must turn my attention north to Wittenland. I estimate a year before they attempt to reclaim the Barradian lands from me. In that year, I must conquer and integrate Austurland for their industry and ponypower or else face the wrath of a modern army without the tools to combat it.

Now this is interesting. I am currently in a prison in Fyrport where agitators have been rounded up. One prisoner is of particular interest to me, as she was reportedly taken off the streets babbling madness. Her name is Áltu Kexá, and is apparently quite famous. I had not heard of her myself, but the garrison troops, who are local, informed me that she is a prolific poet. From what I gathered from conversation with them, she was a popular “speaking truth to power” sort of writer who advocated military intervention to spread freedom to the oppressed. Apparently, she was once one of 4 candidates running for First Commander, but her overly belligerent tone was off-putting for some voters.

The point is that her life’s philosophy and work has been entirely dedicated to liberating slaves and calling for military action against Barrad, Austurland, the Gryphussians and et cetera for the sake of the individual freedoms of the creatures there, something that puts her quite at odds with my mind control. From my observation, she got caught in one of the mind control spells I used offensively, but whether it fully took hold or just partially, I don’t have enough data to determine. She is currently languishing on the ground in a fit, having long fallen out of her wheelchair. Having 2 paralyzed legs seems to have not hindered her thrashing in the slightest.

According to the guards, she has these periods of violence and shouting followed by periods of silence and stillness, where then somezebra usually puts her back in her wheelchair. Listening to her ramblings, there are mentions of my name, but also a lot of “No!”s being said alongside half-poetic metaphors of who knows what. I doubt she has even noticed me. It is time to take a more personal look.

Upon entering the holding cell, she still shows no sign of noticing my presence. I approach her close enough to where I take up most of her vision, but her behavior still does not change. Dissociation perhaps? I give her a greeting, and that is enough to rouse her from her stupor. She reacts rapidly, an expression of what appears to be fear streaking her face before her shouting takes on a new volume. She takes her hooves and covers her eyes, shouting something about “apparitions” and “witchcraft”. Clearly, she doesn’t think I’m real.

Taking a look in her mind, I can see the source of the conflict. Though her outward behavior is similar to the partially affected creatures, I can confirm that the spell has entirely taken root in this instance. This is the first of such occurrences where a full application of the spell has not led to a desirable outcome. From her thoughts, it appears her ideology, being thoroughly ingrained and uncompromising, refuses to believe the thoughts I have added are legitimate, causing this turmoil.

In previously observed mind controlled creatures, I have seen that they find justifications for their own new ideas. In my interactions with them, it was clear the desire not to have a mental breakdown allowed for what would usually be leaps of logic. In ideologically neutral creatures, I found they could easily embrace worship without much conflict, while those ideologically opposed would carve out exceptions or subtly change their ideas in order to remain compatible. There is a self-serving bias in seeing oneself as consistent or level-headed, leading to the mind controlled coming up with ideas that will allow them to keep their sense of self.

Áltu, in contrast, does not appear to have that same desire to fit in. That is in line with a story one Kasan told me of her where she is said to have written poems insulting the one who commissioned her poems, reading them aloud at a party with him present. Social conformity is not one of her priorities. I’d wager this type of response is more likely to occur with these ideologue artists than with normal creatures.

This one is a lost cause, but perhaps I can learn from this experience to inform ways to deal with other creatures who may be on the fringes. One key aspect of passive mind control is that it doesn’t necessarily maintain itself. As the creature goes through life, they may experience things that cause them to learn and change their ideas, their worship of me potentially being one of them. In Áltu’s case, she was pushed over the edge of her self-identification, causing the perception and conflict with my influence. For most creatures, their ideologies do not seem to be as strong, but Áltu’s existence suggests others may be closer to breaking down or even reneging on their loyalties than others.

For those who have difficulty negotiating the contradictions of whatever philosophy they may hold true with loyalty to me, they require a system of encouragement to make them want to move towards greater loyalty rather than a path of lesser loyalty. Too much social pressure to project loyalty will likely lead to performative loyalty with internally unresolved conflicts that will then grow. In contrast, validation of the feeling with support could resolve the issues, leading to self-directed change in the direction of greater loyalty to me. At this moment, I cannot spare the resources to develop such indoctrination programs, but I shall let it be a guiding principle for the future as I further develop my burgeoning empire.

I leave Áltu to her misery. I came to Fyrport to begin reorientation of the entire population, not just her. The plan is thus: mind control each major city and then go on a train ride around the country mind controlling along the way. Once that is complete, the much slower task of allocating labor resources can begin with most urban Kasans being directly incorporated into the army or civil service. I will also have to have Eadmund and the others take control of the factories with the less fit members of society taking over production. This will then be followed by nationalization of education for improving productivity with the most educated being directly conscripted into research related to warfare.

Author's Note

When the tooltip for "Shackle Kasa" in game said that one third of the population of each city would be conscripted with their victory point wiped out, I was wondering what that would actually mean. This is my interpretation of how this happens with the factories still being there to use.

May 12th, 1012

Hornavík has fallen, and soon the rest of Austurland will follow. However, I remain burdened with the knowledge that the mortal world does not move at the pace I desire. I would have wanted the invasion to have been completed by now, but it seems I will have to wait a few more weeks. As always, the limiting factor remains logistics, where I must oversee the production and distribution of ever more equipment and ponypower, which the army has never done at this scale.

Each crate of ammunition produced requires a respective division of which it is resupplying. Transportation then must be arranged to a train depot, where it must be scheduled a train to the supply hub closest to the division. Then, it must be properly unloaded, re-loaded onto trucks, and then navigated to the front, only then arriving at its destination. It is a delicate dance every hour of every day involving thousands of creatures, and must be repeated for food, clothing, shovels, guns, orders, and all sorts of other materiel. Missing a single shipment means risking combat effectiveness, and so the stream must be continuous, but yet also handle changes in demand as fighting intensifies in specific regions.

While invading Kasa, the army stuck to its traditional methods of having supplies pulled by cart - the traditional way. While it was horribly inefficient, it was at least something it had experience doing. With my recent introduction of trains and even more recent introduction of trucks, the army has had to learn how to do logistics from the ground up, and the transition has not been smooth. I have considered intervening and taking over certain operations myself, but that defeats the purpose of having a system in the first place. The army will simply have to learn how to handle the new technologies as they come. I can direct them, but reliance on me is not an option.

Those who say that there doesn’t exist a perfect system are fools. It is easy to look at the modern state of logistics and how the problem remains unsolved with varying doctrines all equally viable given different scenarios and conclude, therefore, that it cannot be determined which is better given the imperfections of the world. While it is true the world is imperfect, that has no bearing on whether a theoretically perfect system does exist. In the space of definable systems, the system with the greatest efficiency of delivering equipment to the front lines is the perfect system. You can define efficiency in any way that you want to, but for each, there exists a corresponding system which is the optimal solution given that outcome. The question should actually be framed if one should seek the perfect system rather than simply dismissing that one does not exist.

It is helpful to model the feature landscape of how to do logistics as an x/y plane. Of course, the reality of logistics is that there are far more than just two variables to change, but the model applies just as well in hyperdimensional spaces. In this plane, each point represents a way to do logistics. For example, the x axis may represent something like the dichotomy between push and pull logistics whereas the y axis may represent something like the level of motorization. The general trend is clear - pull logistics and motorization are good with high values in both scoring higher than any other point in the plane. Therefore, the ideal army of today must do both, which is why I have moved Viirad towards both.

Of course, this is the problem with optimization. The space is assumed to be continuously differentiable, and gradient descent can only happen in increments. I cannot simply teleport the nation to the optimal strategy in the plane - it must happen over time. If I were to revamp the entire system from the ground up tomorrow, for instance, it would doubtlessly fail miserably with confused creatures not knowing what to do and not enough trains and trucks to do it. The good will of the mind controlled can make the process move faster, but not faster than the production of infrastructure and expertise building. If there are regions of low efficiency on the way to the best system, as long as the general trend is good enough, I must seek the perfect system.

There is always the golden goose “what if'' scenario where if you apply just the right amount of x and y, there is a sudden bump in efficiency that causes a strange global maximum to appear not near any of the extremes, but I highly doubt one exists for logistics. Theoretical models of complex functions may cause mathematicians to encounter such peculiarities, but reality usually doesn’t work that way. To those who encounter these scenarios in real life, I would say that your models are not accurate enough.

I have modeled the system discretely, not continuously, as that better represents the way logistics are carried out. Perhaps that is the wrong way to say it - of course statistics like the number of trains in a station are relatively continuous, but in reality, I can impose a policy only in large chunks at a time, as menu costs amongst other factors prevent a continuous implementation of new policies.

Some policies are “to demand”, and one way to model that would be to view that as a discrete factor in itself, albeit somewhat divorced from the standard function landscape. For example, a “to demand” assignment of trains does not lie on a scale of 1 to 100 trains, but that is where the model begins to break down. As for my actual analysis, I have listed all possible factors I can control, for example whether to use motorized transportation from the factory to train depots, and then evaluated each potential policy I could make out of every possible combination of discrete factors. This would be impossible for a normal creature, but my enhanced information processing abilities have allowed me to analyze the entire function space and come up with the perfect system.

With the knowledge of the perfect system, I have charted a path of policy changes towards that end subject on the adoption of new systems that should maximize my benefit while avoiding large drops in efficiency along the way. Unfortunately, as they say, no plan survives first contact with the enemy, and adoption is slower than I had hoped. It is correct for me to keep pushing, but I am wary of pushing too hard. My subjects are rather zealous in their service, and I predict that if I push too hard to achieve an objective, it is easy for their short-sighted minds to forget my long-term objective and make bad moves that will reach certain quotas or such in the short term. Mind control does not bestow long-term decision-making abilities.

In the same vein, it is a bit funny to me that it only took a few weeks for me to travel the length and breadth of Kasa and mind control all of its cities and towns along the rail system but will take much longer to integrate them. One would think that a populace of obedient, eager to serve, creatures would be quick to organize, and while it may still be true in comparison, it still takes time given the current size of my bureaucracy.

In the task of organizing the population into their roles in my state, I have necessarily had to document everycreature, resulting in a census of sorts. Then as to where to send each of these ponies, griffons, zebras, and deer, I have had to organize grand swathes of procedures and related documents to verify identities, assess abilities, and then judge them. In the case of exceptional individuals, there is a pipeline in place for reevaluation and information passing such that I can weigh in on some myself, which can then become precedents to be followed later.

The amount of paperwork is simply breathtaking. It is not enough to simply have every Kasan submit a form with their information on it. Special cases must be made for the illiterate to be evaluated as well, which means I must have an interview system as well - yet another reason why I must take care to educate the masses. I suppose an interview system cannot be avoided entirely, as suspect papers must be scrutinized. One might ask who would forge such a form, but one must then also consider that not everyone in my nation is mind controlled. There still do exist those hostile to my regime who have simply been quieted down since losing their command structure. Though their activities are slowed by the harsh Barradian climate I have imposed upon the land, they could resume any time. Seeking to slow my empire’s growth, they could try and interfere with my integration of their country through more covert means like flooding my offices with fake forms.

That isn’t to mention the potential for foreign adversaries to interfere as well. Soon, I suspect the Watchers will become aware of foreign agents attempting to gain intelligence in Viirad followed swiftly by subversive actions. While this isn’t a point of concern today, one cannot expect to take over the world without a little foresight. These are both real factors, but the real reason to have this infrastructure on the ground is to work through the dishonest. While it may not seem clear at first why a faithful servant of mine would do such a thing, I have found that the nature of creatures to boast and present themselves in favorable lights persists even after they begin to worship me. I believe that some are simply braggarts through and through, but it is also in the self-interest of the less prideful creatures to improve their own lives, and thus shoot slightly higher than their actual worth. I purposefully did not remove this drive for the benefits it gives, but it also means I must deal with its drawbacks as well.

The first few Kasans that have made it through the system are adapting well. The unifying message under me is helping smooth any potential hiccups, though what I had written about before about building systems of indoctrination to keep it that way is still to be developed. Full integration is, however, a ways away, with centers around the nation still being set up. I estimate it will be a few more months before I can fully get everycreature into the system. Once that is done, there is work required for which military training camp, vocational school, factory, or research institute to send every creature to.

Speaking of research institutes, I visited Seguro and its universities. Seguro is hardly a modern metropolis, but once I was past the slums and shanty towns, I was able to find value in the richer parts of town. A little mind control and they were more than willing to contribute their minds to my cause. I have planned massive increases in class size as I need to drive the population through the educational system as fast as possible to become as productive as possible.

The same goes for the Kasan military academies, as without properly trained officers, I will not succeed. The army’s officer class now is composed of far too many Barradian nobles - a system of education that guarantees little in the ways of competence or intelligence. Integration with my military is ongoing, but the ever-present reality of education is its time-consuming nature.

I’m sensing something. I have the feeling that I’m being watched. It isn’t a feeling most would recognize, but my seer experience tells me exactly what is happening - someone is scrying on me. Light does interact with scrying windows, but they leave a much more prominent magical than physical hoofprint. Reaching out, I can sense the “fibers” of magic linking the window back to its caster. I use a trick I figured out as a young seer in training to trace the fibers and locate the source of the casting.

As expected, the trail leads back to Austurland. I open up a scrying window of my own at the source, revealing an older buck looking down in a circular scrying pool. Not a bad setup. Around are the decorations of a temple, suggesting that the site is one that has been used for many hundreds of years for this task. This buck may be one of the only seers in Austurland, trained in a small community as one of the only ones capable of performing this task - sentenced to do so for life due to his irreplaceability.

Through my window, I see the image of myself in his pool. I opened my own window just out of view of his window, so he doesn’t see what I’m doing. However, it seems he has noticed I am looking up whereas before I was looking down. I see the image in the pool shift as he moves it, trying to see what I’m looking at. I would rather he not see me scrying on him, so I take the moment to dispel his window, causing the image in the scrying pool to fade away back into the buck’s regular reflection.

This seems to have startled him. I wonder if he can piece together what’s happening. His face looks unsure at first, but then suddenly afraid. He seems to have at least realized something is wrong. He turns around, looking at each corner of the room before turning his gaze directly into where my window is. He may not be able to see me anymore, but it seems he knows he’s being watched. It looks like he’s about to cast dispellere, so I prepare the standard counterspell for it. His spell is nullified the moment his antlers glow, which causes him to panic.

Interestingly, he dashes back to the scrying pool and begins to cast another spell. I’m not sure what he’s trying to cast, but I prepare counterspells for any offensive action he could take. None are used, as he instead casts a divination spell, causing the image in the pool to once again change. However, instead of scrying, it appears to be a window into the room itself - a view into the future.

In the image, he is able to see what will happen in the room a few minutes into the future, but instead of showing some sort of magical battle between myself and him or an empty room caused by him running away, the image just shows his own body, limp and lifeless on the ground exactly where he is standing right now. The sight of his own dead body stuns him for a moment, before he simply sits down and gives up.

That is the nature of seeing the future. The nature of time is steady state - if one looks at the future and sees something, that is what will occur taking into account that you have now looked at the future. It is a fool’s errand to try and change or manipulate the image in the scrying pool, and this buck knows it. Thus, there is nothing for him to do but wait for me to kill him.

There is a story taught to every young seer of an ancient seer named Näkyjä who looked into a scrying pool to see a great fire in her village. Realizing she couldn’t change the image itself, she sought to change the reason behind it. Fearing it could be caused by invaders, she sought instead to create the fire herself as to prevent an invasion. Näkyjä set her own village on fire, but as the dust settled, their neighbors, seeing their weakness, decided to occupy the lands anyway. It is taught as a lesson to be level-headed, as if you aren’t likely to take drastic actions, the images in the pool are likely to be less drastic themselves. If Näkyjä was not so fearful of the image in the pool, the pool would not have shown her something that would have ended in her village burning down. If you cannot control yourself, it is better to not see at all, for, in Näkyjä’s case, if she never looked into the future, it is taught that she never would have burned her village down and they could have made preparations for invaders.

That isn’t to say divination is useless. It is theoretically possible to glean information about the future about, say, technology where one gains insight from seeing one’s own image in the pool and uses it to create a new technology, but that is limited by the insight of the deer looking, and is not all that consistent. Oftentimes, the image just shows the inventor continuing to work without much insight being made, which can be disheartening. The best results come from timed presentations of technology in set locations that can give insights to researchers when divined on later. The researchers can then go on to invent those things, causing the information to have effectively birthed from nowhere, but it isn’t an exact science yet, and I never found a guaranteed method to make it work back when I used to do it in Olenia.

I digress. That is all to say that this buck giving up makes perfect sense. If he didn’t give up, the image would have shown an empty room, but as it shows him dead, that means he will give up as he has. One could say he has the choice now to leave, but if that were in his nature, the pool would have shown it as so. Theoretically, if he were the fighting type, the image in the pool may have instead shown his dead body slightly closer to the door, as I would have definitely killed him if he tried to escape.

I now too have a choice. I could kill him as it showed in the pool, or I could leave him alive. I have seen the future and know the choice I will make. Could I defy fate and simply not? Maybe, but I have no desire to do so. If I had the desire to defy fate the image in the pool would have shown something else. I take it as an affirmation in my own self-control that he will die. Unlike Näkyjä, I am consistent and have the forethought to carry through to certain ends regardless of the image I see with no regard for petty rebellion. It makes sense to kill him: seers provide great wartime benefits to their side in a war.

I decide not to try and recall the image of the buck’s dead body and use it to determine how I killed him in the vision. It is quaint to me to know that no matter what method I decide to use, it will be the method that killed him in the image in the future. If I try to think about how he died in the pool’s image and figure it out, I will inevitably conclude it was (will be?) the best way to do it and perform the same action. To save on the mental effort, I will simply exercise my will now. I fashion a blade from telekinetic energy, which the buck notices, and he simply raises his neck to allow it forth. I reward him for the acceptance of his fate with a quick slice, which causes him to promptly fall over and begin bleeding out with minimal spasming.

I could have attempted to mind control him, but given his magical abilities, he could have fought back - especially knowing that I was watching him, actively trying to cast a spell on him. For now, the matter is dealt with. I have not yet had to deal with magical adversaries on this level yet, but I will have to soon when it comes to dealing with Wittenland and their famed unicorn mages. The griffons and zebras have some magic as well, but by then I will have a much larger army. The real worries magic-wise are the Equestrians and the Changelings, but they are far too distracted by the Great War to interfere with my plans for now. The news says the Changelings are winning, with the optimal outcome for me being either a stalemate or a false victory where one side is left to deal with uprisings for decades to come. Infighting will be their weakness against my unity.

Author's Note

Dispellere is the name I've given to the spell that Celestia casts at the end of Lesson Zero that makes everyone normal again. I have modeled it as a spell that dispels all magic in an area.

I hope you all enjoyed the story of Näkyjä that I made up.

August 6th, 1013

I have stopped them in the mountains, but for how long remains unclear. When the Wittenlandians invaded, I had hoped they would not be able to break through past the riverline, but, unfortunately, they were well prepared. Wittenland’s army is unique in its application of magic as a structural component in their division design, and it uses specifically unicorn magic to enhance its effectiveness in ways not seen in other militaries around the world.

Unlike the more racially balanced nations like Equestria and the River Republic, the ancient mage-noble system in Wittenland means that it has a much higher prevalence of unicorns among its population, with a rich history of magic education and a tradition of spellcraft. Of course, they are still behind Equestria in terms of their academic prowess, but the high population of unicorns by proportion means they can use magic in their armies in a way other militaries can’t. They have cast great spells to enhance their own soldiers and inflict casualties on mine and are proving uniquely resilient to mind control.

That is not to say they have developed a counterspell or something devastating like that, but their use of strategically sized shield spells as pioneered 10 years ago during Chrysalis’ humiliation has been, for lack of a better term, annoying. My previous go-to of casting my point charge variant of mind control is rendered impotent by the ability of these shield spells to block out all incoming magic. I can cast the regional variant, but it costs significantly more mana, and I have to be much closer to get an effective cast. I have been unable to cast the spell from afar, as they have, unfortunately, been adept at removing my scrying windows soon after I cast them - likely a provision in their training from their tradition of mage combat.

While their great mages are far less powerful than myself, their well-equipped and well-trained army aids in the disruption of my goals as, like I have said often, I cannot be at every part of the front line at once. Just the other day, they called forth a falling star on my forces, shattering a front. The use of such a spell is very effective, as, due to the mass of the star, it is very hard to redirect, even for me. Destroying it would also just cause it to burst in air, raining down equally deadly shrapnel. I was able to teleport much of the army in the blast radius away, but still had to cede the important river crossing they were defending.

The experience has given me a grudging respect for Queen Honoria. Her policy changes have seemed to make Wittenland a force to be reckoned with combining the old ways with modern military tactics. She may have had the ambition to take over her country through her duel with former queen White Star, but my ambitions go much further. This is but a momentary setback, and I will be victorious. The only question is how soon.

The Barradian climate has been my ally thus far, slowing any potential advance into Viirad through the level of equipment attrition it inflicts. In time, as long as I can finish integrating Austurland, my forces will begin to outnumber theirs and I can begin cutting their divisions off one by one.

Perhaps my salvation will be quicker than that though. There have recently been talks of the creation of a River Federation unifying the continent’s pony nations (and the Diamond Dogs, I suppose). Honoria, being the supremacist she is, has declined any cooperation with the increasingly interconnected bloc, which has hurt the legitimacy of the Federation given its roots in the Treaty of Coltstream. However, Wittenland is the only nation rejecting the union, and Chancellor River Swirl has recently been emphasizing a federation of all the Riverlands nations.

River Swirl has also been recently speaking out against Honoria’s reign specifically, citing her dismantling of the social safety net and seeming lack of empathy towards poor Wittenlandian ponies - especially the non-unicorns. It is quite humorous to me that, in her attempt to unify the Riverlands under herself, she may be providing me the opportunity to unify it myself if she does invade Wittenland. I wonder what her thought process is.

My speculation is that she doesn’t see me as a threat. The Watchers have not found evidence of any OHS agents or activities within my borders thus far. Perhaps she sees in Honoria’s conquest of Viirad a chance for Wittenland to prove they don’t need the River Union, which could make other states lose confidence. Given Honoria’s progress so far, River Swirl may believe her victory over me is imminent, and that it would delay full unification of the Riverlands by years. It is also strategically a great opportunity for them to invade, as their army is currently distracted by me.

The hypocrisy is astounding. River Swirl touts freedom and democracy at every turn, espousing the ideals of harmony. It turns out the “Equestria of the East” sees harmony as just as much of an imperialistic tool as the real Equestria does, just with Wittenland instead of the Buffalo or Dragons. It is to be expected of River Swirl; her family has been a political dynasty in the River Republic for many generations. Their style of nepotistic power does not engender leaders who really believe in any ideology, but instead ponies who see power as something they can use to achieve their own goals. River Swirl’s goal could be to care for her own ponies instead of looking abroad, but she probably has some sort of desire to show her family how great she is, and thus has to undertake ventures to make a bigger part of the map the same color.

Maybe the public persona the Chancellor presents in interviews and speeches is all a front. I’ve never met her myself. She could be secretly a grand puppet master with ambitions to rival my own, but somehow, I don’t think so. Having had the opportunity and ability to slink through the minds of many, I have found most creatures are quite docile even in the “darkest corners” of their minds. They may believe they hold strong convictions, but most would crumble if they had to stand by them. What pitiful lives they lead - so boring that most never get their ideas challenged in any meaningful way. Luckily, I am here to give them purpose.

In my writing this, I realize that I sound a bit like the evil villain in a children’s story. Somedeer with no redeeming values built to be hated. I suppose the comparison is apt, as from the perspective of these free willed individuals, I am coming to destroy their way of life and sense of self. I would, though, question the moral high ground my enemies seem to always take. As they cling to their rights and freedoms, I would ask this: why? What makes your rights or values more correct than my decree?

Of course these creatures value their individuality - it's what society has taught them to think. I have the ability to change those values. If the goal is to maximize fulfillment, I can give the masses that sense of fulfillment. They say that their observations of the existence of rights are self-evident. Well, give me a second to alter your soul and I would say that serving me becomes the only self-evident idea. Of course I value my own individuality too, but I wouldn’t if I were mind controlled.

The fear and repulsion seen in the Kasans and Austurlandians are caused by the perceived threat I represent. The laws of nature suggest that the validity of an idea lies in its ability to resist others. If an idea capitulated at the presentation of another, then it would cease to be. Therefore, all ideas in the world today are those that resist supplantation by another. If one were to interview a creature mind controlled by me, I’d wager they would find that my ideas are quite sticky.

I learnt at a young age that power is the ability to enforce your ideas. As a young fawn, when I didn’t want to go out, I simply used magic to lock my door. My power allowed my desires to triumph over those of my non-magical parents. Thus, as I have gained more power, the presence of ideas counter to my own has begun to matter less and less. When an idea comes into conflict with another, one will die - either by death of those who bear it, or by them changing their ideas.

In the end, Queen Honoria and I believe in the same thing - meritocracy. Call it “survival of the fittest” or any other name - the truth would ring just as clear. Do rights exist? Maybe or maybe not, but they require others to respect them to have practical application, just as belief of service to me only exists as long as there are those willing to fight for it. River Swirl wishes for unification while Honoria wishes to remain independent. One of those ideas will die. Honoria and I both believe we should rule over the Barradian lands. One of those ideas will die.

So then, am I evil? Yes, absolutely. By most measures there is no question about it. Does it matter? No. There is some practical aspect to be thought of if too many believe I am evil then it is easier for them to unite against me, but beyond that, no. The fact somecreature can apply a moral framework to me and determine I am evil is irrelevant if this hypothetical creature also worships me.

That is enough introspection for today. I am, once again, required at the front. I have thus far avoided getting too close to the enemy lines to avoid stray artillery fire and provided strategic spell casting from a safe distance. In the Viiradian mountains, I am using teleportation to keep my forces from getting trapped by Wittenlandian soldiers. I have written in the past of bettering the army such that my constant intervention is not so necessary, but they have not reached such proficiency as to defeat this superior enemy without me. For now, I must micromanage the front until we can effectively counterattack. Hopefully, River Swirl’s ambition outstrips her caution.

Author's Note

So this actually happened in my research playthrough. The River Federation attacked Wittenland while I was defending against them, and I just kept thinking about how weird that was. However, after giving it some thought, I realized that it wasn't the craziest thing in the world for River Swirl to do. The nepotism idea comes from an event in the River Republic where you can appoint an official who is one of River Swirl's family members, and it led to my interpretation of Viira's perception of her.

Also, I've been thinking about if Viira believes she is evil or not, and this is the conclusion I finally came to.

July 11th, 1015

Well, it was bound to happen eventually, but I am frankly surprised I have come this far without such an intervention. No more than 2 weeks into my invasion of the River Federation, Hindia has declared war against me as well. In a joint letter from Olenia and Hindia, the two remaining deer nations, they published a condemnation of myself and my nation, jointly expressing the idea that everything I have created must be destroyed. While Hindia’s threat is real, it is clear Queen Chrysalis is keeping occupied Olenia on a tight leash, not allowing them to support Hindia in the war as she continues to battle resistance fighters in Equestria.

While clearly dangerous, I am not currently worried about Hindia’s army. The waters between Zebrica and Griffonia are vast, and they will have great difficulty mounting an invasion over such a distance even with their viking tradition. I have redirected some forces to keep the ports protected, but I sense no existential danger. The more annoying thing is that I will have to build a navy from the husks of Kasa and Austurland’s in order to counterattack, but I am safe to perform a naval buildup at my leisure seeing as no plane can cross the ocean to strike my otherwise vulnerable shipyards.

So far, the Hindians have only been harassing my convoy ships, but in their desire to strike at me, they have also put their ships vulnerable to my air force. I didn’t have an air force as of a year ago, but the Wittenlandians have been ever so eager to share their knowledge with me. The increased industrial capacity from invading into the Evi Valley hasn’t hurt either. As of now, there are almost no nations not affiliated with some great power or another on this continent, which has temporarily halted my advance. All wars going forwards will be great and total.

I am somewhat concerned with Hindia sending hundreds of thousands of troops via ship to join the River Federation front line in Griffonia, but at the rate their lines are collapsing, they will be sending these deer to their deaths. First at sea from my planes, as their ships must pass through my waters on the way to the Riverlands, and then on land as I encircle them with my newly mechanized army.

It is surprising to see the forces of the River Federation crumble so quickly when my forces struggled just to defend against the Wittenlandians just 2 years ago. It is clear from the number of fielded soldiers that they clearly went through a massive military buildup, but they were also clearly unprepared for me.

I believe this to be a symptom of a much greater problem all nations who choose to oppose me face - a lack of intelligence regarding me and the happenings in Viirad. From what I can tell from newspapers brought to me from other nations, nocreature, at least no journalist, has any idea what is really happening within my borders.

There are many reasons for this. Firstly, Viirad does not engage in trade with other nations, stifling what would usually be normal cross-border travel. No nation wants to aid me, and even the greediest businessgriffs hesitate when their freedom of mind is at stake. This has meant I have been forced to develop my own industrial equipment and electrical equipment, which are still behind their more modern counterparts, but these past years have been very productive. That gap will be met this year, and Viirad will be the greatest scientific and industrial power in the world soon after.

Second, there is no travel across borders. Viirad is naturally a very inward-focused state. The mind controlled seek others like them, and they are off-putting to foreigners. Furthermore, I can basically guarantee any foreigner will be naturally opposed to my regime, and thus poses a danger. To cement the intelligence advantage, I banned all travel in and out. The faithful are so far willing to bear the pain of not seeing loved ones who may be in other lands. Given I did not delete their other emotional ties, the underlying desire may still be there, but that is cushioned by the belief that the lands of their families will soon be part of Viirad. This does, however, put a soft deadline before creatures begin traveling regardless.

If properly controlled, this outflow could be useful. Each mind controlled subject is a potential missionary, ready to sow doubt in the hearts of the free willed in their beliefs that their way of life and their nations are superior. Given the rate I plan to conquer the world, this will likely have negligible effects, and poses a risk of potential intelligence leaks as well if they are detained and studied. I suppose some leakage is inevitable, so there is no point in being too harsh, as I am sure intelligence agencies around the world will be able to get their hooves on enough subjects to gain some insight into my work.

Thirdly, the way in which mind control allows me to fully absorb countries means chances of information getting out are low. Everycreature that comes under its effect is now unwilling to divulge the secrets they may know. Thus, the only creatures that can report on having encountered or had experiences with them are those who fought them on the battlefield or are those isolated communities I didn’t bother to mind control. Naturally, the latter barely travel, let alone beyond my lands.

Due to this utter lack of information flow, true understanding of my plans is totally unknown to the outside world. I have seen headlines with interviews from those fleeing lands I have conquered, but they are few and far between. I believe, so far, the greatest reason nations have not unified in some grand alliance against me is that most simply don’t care. Aside from the River Federation, whose Wittenlandian territories I am occupying, most around the world care nothing for my region of the world. Southeastern Griffonia was already quite a backwater, and there are few cultural ties that connect the nations I have conquered here with others around the world.

Aside from Wittenland and the River Coalition, Macawia had the most significant relationship to worry about. They were the main trade and political partners of Kasa, but besides the fact that they are an ocean away, they were recently taken over by the Hippogriffs, who have undergone a fascist political shift. To my west, the Evi Valley states were all taken over by Karthinia, who seems content with its expansion so far, leaving only Austurland. I suppose the racial connection with Hindia and Olenia is the cause of the current declaration of war alongside what the Watchers tell me is a nascent activist movement in these countries made up of refugees who fled the nations I have invaded.

Beyond those political ties, the rest of the nations of the world are simply either too busy with their own affairs or have no stake in the region or creatures I currently occupy. The only other major power on the continent I have not yet mentioned is the Aquileians. While they have conquered the griffonian heartland and the north, their griffon empire cares not for the ponies of the Riverlands I am invading. The same can be said for the Karthinians of the south, though they may be somewhat annoyed that I have occupied some griffon lands near their border. Zebrica is even more backward than Griffonia, leaving them no ability to intervene (except for the obvious exception of Hindia). The greatest problem would be Equestria and their harmonist ideology, but the Changelings have been ever so kind as to deal with that problem for me, simultaneously weakening themselves on endless resistance suppression for when I inevitably arrive.

From my perusal of the newspapers of the world available to me, I can see that there is not a lack of interest in the goings on of my nation, but besides the activists, most of it is theoretical given the lack of real data. In fact, the best account of my actions and intentions come from Fernando Zessa, who I had interview me those years ago. It seems he escaped Kasa and is trying to spread the word of my ambitions to the world. Good. Let him and those like him spread the word of my imminent arrival. They are my unwitting heralds, telling my future subjects the name of who they will soon serve. I still find many who are totally unaware of my existence and thus cannot serve me properly. I say “I” find them, but in truth it is the great blanket of my bureaucracy that finds them. The difference, however, becomes less meaningful with each day that passes.

As for the articles not by Zessa specifically, papers are rife with exaggerated claims of what supposedly goes on in Viirad. Speculation is rampant, and with the lack of real firsthoof evidence, the speculation often spirals, with some interpreting certain wordings as facts, which then go on to be published with ever more speculation. The important parts remain constant, but the “hows” and “whys” they offer harbor nary a sliver of truth. Other articles are more conservative, simply calling my nation and its creatures a new cult or a new religious movement, taking some of the observations at face value and not making claims of mass mind control.

I find the articles that focus on me the most amusing. The papers I get from Olenia are far and few between given the long distance, but I did get one just last week that was an interview with my parents. It has been years now since I’ve contacted them, and it was interesting to see their reactions to me. My mother refuses to believe it is actually me given the difficulty in gathering hard evidence and her naive heart, so her responses were less than insightful. My father, on the other hoof, did believe the news, and had many words of condemnation for my nation and myself. He and the interviewer both tried to theorize what could have led to my “madness”, trying to glean meaning out of small anecdotes from my childhood. In the end, they could not definitively say anything other than “power corrupts”.

The adage is true, because once you have power, the opinions of others stop mattering, thus leading to behavior less constrained by norms or ethics. Power doesn’t corrupt, but merely allows behaviors that would be erased without it to instead persist. What some may call a “fall”, I would liken more to an awakening. Given its generality, this “explanation” for my behavior is the most accurate I have seen, but the lack of detail means it could be used to explain anything one doesn’t like about any leader.

It is, at least, more rooted in truth than some of these other stories. I’ve seen some claiming that I am possessed by a demon, am an incarnation of some zebra deity or other, and my personal favorite, that I was summoned from the moon by Celestia to punish the world for not embracing harmony. Convenient that the explanation always matches the background of the author. No doubt some Equestrian pony was angry at having lost the Great War.

While there is a strategic advantage to not leaking information out of the nation, it also makes it difficult to control the information space. I would imagine that the average enlistee would become considerably less enthusiastic to serve their country if they knew they could have their soul rewritten if I just happened to target their general area, but since the general public is not aware of this threat, they cannot fear it. My previous conquests in southern Griffonia utilized the spell tactically, but it is hard for information about it to spread. Those caught in it either become loyal to me or kill those who aren’t, leaving limited individuals remaining to spread the word. Obviously, a military planner would notice entire divisions disappearing or converting and eventually piece it together, but once the country falls, that information doesn’t travel - or at least hasn’t yet.

Even if the River Federation was smart and did hire a Kasan refugee who did happen to figure out what was happening, I doubt they would publicize that knowledge. Maybe it would be discussed in the smoky backrooms of strategic planners, but it would present me as too terrifying to fight for some. I believe their fear may be unfounded though, as I doubt knowledge of the way I use my spell would truly cause many to refuse to fight or even have any significant effect on the war. If anything, it could encourage them to fight harder to avoid getting their minds overwritten. After all, there is no option but to fight in that case. Combined with social pressure from the way armies are organized and the fact that creatures believe first before applying logic, I don’t think that would change much. That being said, there is obviously also the coward’s path where, if their spirit is broken and they don’t believe they can win, a Riverlands pony may choose to ignore a draft notice or begin collaborating.

That, however, takes firm control of the media landscape of a nation to work at any scale, which I cannot influence much. Even through earned media of, say, a massacre or victories by me, these papers always seem to find a way to spin things positively. If something is truly negative, they won’t print it at all - at least the OHS won’t let them. Thus, I find the idea of intentionally spreading the idea that the Riverlanders are always 2 seconds away from being mind controlled not productive. It may make them more afraid, but, in the end, the fear levels don’t affect the combat effectiveness of a unit of soldiers on a strategic level as long as institutions are strong enough. They are already afraid - they’re in a war.

The ultimatum I present lends itself much more towards fighting than fleeing or freezing, and the effect is always temporary. As those not caught in my spell live a few days without being mind controlled, the fear wanes and becomes useless. Though it may seem strange, I have learned not to underestimate the abilities of creatures to adapt to a new normal. I have been continuously implementing new normals in Viirad, after all. In the same way, my enemies will get used to living in fear of my spell, negating its effect. I believe this is a subconscious survival instinct, as it is advantageous for creatures to not reject their entire realities and societies when confronted with a fearful situation, thus causing them to rationalize reasons for such, even if the logic clearly favors a surrender.

I must return to the front. With the Hindians massing, quickly dispatching the River Federation is the only option. My current strategy is to rend the Riverlands in twain between Bakara and Nimbusia. From there, the remainder of their armies will no longer be able to mount a unified defense and collapse in the east followed by the west. All the numerical indicators show the plan will succeed, leaving me more concerned with the post-conquest mind control effort. The River Federation is more than double the size of Viirad today, meaning ever more lengthy train rides and river voyages. Such is the price of success.

Author's Note

So, usually, Kasa is endgame content for Hindia, but they invade whoever controls Kasa, so they invaded Viirad in my research playthrough. I actually felt this made a lot of sense seeing Olenia and Hindia probably want to make a point that deer aren't all evil.

I also added a section where Viira discusses NovemberWolf's comment on how scary the situation is for Viira's enemies. Personally, I think there are probably a lot of factors that go into what one would do if forced to fight someone who could overwrite your mind at any time like culture and personality, but Viira likes to speak more in grand declarations of the soul and inherent nature.

November 6th, 1016

It’s funny, the fact that Hindia is less well-developed than the River Federation is proving its greatest defense against my mind control. I must say that, after touring from Farbrook to Pònaidhean, I am tiring of these long, boring train rides and river cruises. For reasons of boredom and Hindia’s lack of a developed train network, my journeys here will be far less thorough.

I say “here”, because I am writing this from one of Benjen V’s palaces in Ostkranbi. It is quite cushy, and I do appreciate having more deer servants around. For security purposes, I did cast my spell over this city, as I will for the remainder of the large cities of Hindia, but I don’t imagine I will be embarking on another odyssey of mind control across all of Zebrica. I have been tweaking the climate as per standard procedure to keep resistance down, but that works across a much larger area, and doesn’t require me to travel along every major road in a region.

Of course, it is completely possible for me to decree the construction of a Hindian train network and have it be complete in a few short months given my new industrial power from the River Federation, but the attention of my factories is much better suited to producing military equipment given what is to come. The fact of the matter is that the complete subjugation of Hindia, and the rest of Zebrica, is not a high priority right now. The ponies of the River Federation will be more than enough flesh for which to conquer the rest of the world. With 15% of their population in my military and the other half of the young ponies working the factories, I will not have to undertake such large trips to completely control the Zebrican continent.

That is not to say there is no merit to this. More creatures to join the cause is always good, and it is also effective at reducing resistance in these countries, but this is counterweighted by the amount of time it will take me. It already took me months just to travel the lengths of the River Federation, and I had to split the trip up into many smaller ones just to make sure I could focus on the matters of state and war. The inherent nature of these long days of sitting in a train maintaining a miles-wide area-of-effect spell is that they are inefficient. If the benefit to be gained is little, my time is better spent preparing for the invasions of the real threats to my reign: Aquileia and Karthinia. I possess many powers, but none will allow me to effectively govern from the cabin of a moving train. The fault lies not in my lack of power, but in the incapability of my subordinates to be as efficient if I am unavailable most of the time.

If I were not a factor, I assume that Aquileia and Karthinia would be at war with each other right now, each vying to be the one to unite all of griffonkind under one banner. Well, except for Nova Griffonia and those under my rule, but the point remains. If they have not invaded each other, it is clear they sense the threat I am. Unfortunately for them, my armies are now far better equipped than theirs are. As soon as I can redeploy the majority of my army from Hindia, both of these recently unified empires will bow to me.

I don’t believe the full weight of my army is required to defeat them, so, I plan to simultaneously begin my invasions of Aris’ eastern territorial acquisitions and Kiria. Ponypower is far from my concern now. If it becomes necessary, I can use Hindia as a spare pool to draw from, but I doubt it will be necessary.

The physical restrictions of how fast my army can return to Griffonia now gives me some free time before my attention is once again required. The beauty of creating systems is that, now, the army can basically run itself. I have decided to use this time to focus on an aspect of life in Viirad that I have been, until now, too busy to focus on - religious institutions. I have commented in the past that a badly functioning religious order dedicated to me would actually be a net negative influence on the mind controlled, but, thus far, nothing has been so egregious as to force my hoof. However, it is far overdue for me to standardize the doctrine of the many grassroots organizations that have been springing up around Viirad.

In order to properly decide on a correct doctrine, I must evaluate practices throughout my empire. This first one was the inciting incident that was the straw on the camel’s back that encouraged me to finally take up this endeavor. A letter arrived at my desk from a group of “Viira Followers” in Hoofcester - a city in the former Wittenland - beseeching my presence specifically today to “bring light to the non-believers”. I have my theories as to what is going on, but a proper visit will be more useful.

Upon teleporting to the address in Hoofcester, I am greeted by a very standard warehouse. I can see many ponies milling about back and forth, socializing. My sudden appearance startles many, who all turn and bow. I note they remain prostrate and do not rise. Looking into the warehouse, I can see a large gathering of ponies of all kinds. They are all hoofcuffed, and do not bow upon beholding my visage. There are ponies guarding the prisoners, but they seem to have taken this moment to abandon their duties to show their devotion, bowing alongside those outside. While I appreciate the deference, I can’t have the effectiveness of Viirad hampered by these ultimately meaningless displays.

I raise my hoof, gesturing they all rise. One pony, a unicorn stallion, approaches me, his mouth full of words of praise. It doesn’t take my intellect to figure that this one is their leader, the likely culprit behind the letter on my desk. I inform him of my displeasure towards the behavior of the guards, which he begins apologizing profusely for. While I don’t dislike seeing creatures grovel before me, at a certain point it becomes gratuitous. There is a risk here of fostering such reverence that creatures disregard all thought and become less useful. While this is not a trait I would want in my key staff, I suppose for the rank and file who will likely never see me, this level of awe and devotion is acceptable. I will not be consulting them for important decisions, so their tendencies to just say yes to everything I say is not negative.

I direct the stallion to inform me of why he requested my presence. He says the Viira Followers have, with sanction of the local government, rounded up ponies who were not affected by my spell and put them in one place for me to “enlighten”. I like this tradition. It encourages in-group behavior and demonstrates a clearly negative outcome for turning away while also giving me more followers. It merely requires that I intervene directly. While this particular gathering is not so large, perhaps merely two hundred free-willed ponies, if scaled up properly, I would be more than glad to regularly attend these conversion festivals. I say "festival" because there is a festival atmosphere; I can see there is a potluck outside the warehouse where ponies have brought food from home to share with the community. It is interesting to see the juxtaposition between their joviality and the sullen looks of the unfaithful.

I trot to the hoofcuffed ponies. The stallion priest informs me that they are mostly family and friends of faithful ponies who put their names on a list. They were then systematically ponynapped or forced to come here by those family members and friends in a community-led effort. The priest informs me his own son and wife are among the imprisoned before leading me to them, informing me that he hopes that, with my blessing, they may too have their eyes opened.

Upon approaching the duo, they look at the priest with fear, barely acknowledging me. The wife pleads for mercy, asking for her old husband back. At first it is directed to him, but then to me, as she realizes I carry all the power here. The priest turns to me, expressing sorrow at the sad state of his family, once again asking that I intercede on his behalf. I will grant his request.

For a social ritual such as this, the sense of awe and wonder is as important as the conversion itself. Therefore, it would not do for me to simply cast the spell now. I require an audience. I teleport to the entrance of the warehouse. I could shout above the crowd to garner the appropriate attention, but I have a subtler idea. For me to speak is to make a request or command of the creature here, thus implying that I am asking them to make a choice to obey or not. This, therefore, also implies it is possible for them to ignore me if they so choose to, giving them a semblance of power over me. While none of the faithful would dare do such a thing, it is well in the realm of possibility for the unconverted here to shut their eyes and ears at my command.

I begin a magical connection with the minds of all those present. Improvising an active mind control framework, I imprint a small compulsion to cease activity and pay attention to me. Quickly, the conversations quiet with eyes and attention redirecting towards me. They do not know the reason for their actions, but it becomes clear when I fill their gaze. This is a true representation of power - not a request to be heeded but my will extended across many bodies, and representation is what ceremonies like this are all about. I will keep this spell framework in mind for the next time I need to garner the attention of a crowd.

Food remains untouched in this tableau of a gathering. The guards once again forget their positions to observe me, though this time, it is acceptable given those they are guarding against are equally distracted. I sense many ponies are only now realizing the gravity of the situation now that I have made my presence felt. The only sound comes from the stenography machine chording these words.

I give a speech. In it, I reaffirm the positive aspects of the practice of faith to me that I have seen: community building and individual engagement. I also warn against the practices I do not approve of: performances of faith that forget my purpose, such as the guards’ bowing from earlier, and overly harsh treatment of non-believers. Those gathered here today had to be hoofcuffed and forced here - an action others will see as clearly negative and try to avoid. These Viira Followers should have been able to convince their own loved ones that they had an opportunity, not an obligation. Overzealous activity, while rooted in correct feelings (also known as orthopathy), leads to disruptions in economic output. They must be generous in their kindness to maintain the order I desire. These ponies require orthodoxy, or correct teaching, to then take on the correct actions (orthopraxis).

The gathered listen intently. Once I finish, I cast my spell over the imprisoned ponies. As a symbolic gesture, I also undo all of their hoofcuffs via telekinesis, demonstrating they are now amongst friends. Tears are streaming freely from the faces of many as the new converts tackle how they could have ever been against me or this conversion. I see the priest being embraced by his family, together again. I am nothing if not a unifier. With my purpose here completed, I bid farewell to the crowd before teleporting to my next destination.

This next location is a monastery near Hjardðholt in what used to be Austurland. I had noted its presence during my mind control tour of the nation. Institutions such as these are a rarity in deer culture, and I was wondering how these presumably devout followers of whatever sect they are a part of would react to my influence. Arriving at the scene, I am firstly made aware of the difference in temperature. This snowy mountainside retreat is quite the departure from the comparably temperate Hoofcester. Atop the door is mounted an engraving of the flag of Viirad in the wood, a single deer’s face looking outward with a crude square logo above it a vestige from the days of the Barrad Magocracy. An encouraging sign.

I choose not to knock on the door and simply open it. It’s a relatively standard wooden structure with obvious signs of age indicating a long tradition. A Hofgyðja near the entrance greets me. I assume, therefore, that this organization is all-female. Gender segregation is typical among these sorts of religious cloisters for obvious reasons. It appears she is not paying much attention, as she has not yet recognized who I am. I suppose it is to be expected from deer communities who are used to seeing other deer and would therefore not immediately infer my presence from my race the way ponies or zebras would.

It takes her a moment, but the train of thought in the Hofgyðja’s mind is clear as there is a moment of realization, followed by doubt, followed by awe as she immediately kneels. I instruct her to fetch her betters, and she recommends I go to the room reserved for teaching before disappearing behind a doorway. A little common sense and my near perfect memory allow me to deduce the location of said room by correlating architectural design patterns, no directions necessary.

The room is occupied, but the importance of whatever they are doing is naught compared to how my next 10 minutes will impact their lives alongside the rest of the nation. Upon barging in unannounced, there is an initial reaction of anger, followed by recognition and groveling. I care not for their little emotional journeys - I can perform a permanent correction manually if it becomes too disruptive. What I am interested in is the activity they were performing. It appears to be some sort of corporate worship ceremony with what I assume are more junior members being led by an old doe.

I ask them for the length of time usually allotted per day to such activities, to which the answer is at least an hour. For an unproductive task such as this, I find that unacceptable. I see the leader of the Hofsisterhood entering the room, and before she can complete her list of praises, I interrupt by informing her of this. She responds by trying to justify it in terms of the sense of unity and my worthiness. I appreciate she isn’t just immediately acquiescing to everything I say, but it is clear that these Hofgyðjas require new education.

Upon my request, she lays out the daily activities of the members of the monastery. I note that there is much dead time wasted by unproductive tasks like worship and prayer. While I cannot discount the social and personal impacts of these activities, it is obvious that they have gone much too far. I express my dissatisfaction, which seems to afflict personal grievance on the attended deer. The proper way to serve me is to take actions beneficial to me. If these deer here are isolated and non-productive, their worth to me is zero.

Inquiring on the nature of the transition from whatever local deity or spirits they worshiped prior to worshiping me, I am informed of the presence of two factions that were birthed. The absolutists believe they should rid the monastery of all things related to their previous faith while the compatibilists believe that teaching the old ways is still necessary, but subservient to, service to me. I ascertain the leader of the monastery is a compatibilist given the continued presence of unrelated icons and her manner of speech. I assume that this Hofgyðja was well-versed in whatever texts or practices related to their previous religion, and such self-serving bias acted in a way to obtain a philosophy that allowed her to maintain her intellectual superiority.

This is one aspect in which my lack of action up to this point has failed at. As I have not unified doctrine through text, the implementation of my ideas is up to the interpretation of the converted. To a creature with a hammer, all the world is a nail. Hence, to a Hofgyðja, prayer and worship are still the right paths to take. Change in behavior and motivation is limited. It is still drastic, of course, given their shift in who they worship but it is then easy for creatures to become complacent and lazy in their new service without institutions to guide them to seek greater service. According to the deer in charge, activities shifted more towards these forms of personal development in absence of religious texts to teach from in order to seek greater knowledge. A small number of them are said to have left to seek this knowledge, but the majority have remained here.

Historically, monasteries have had benefits of being centers of learning and research. However, with the advent of the industrial revolution, education and research has shifted to universities, companies, and the government, relegating institutions like this to purely religious activity and research. There is still a purpose here to be salvaged, but there needs to be change. Am I worthy of worship and prayer? Yes. That does not mean they have to waste their whole lives doing it, as there is still much work to be done. I believe the forging of religious doctrine and religious teaching is still important to educate the rest of the population in greater service to me, but if that is not being done then these institutions serve no purpose other than minor creaturian ones.

I state my point to these Hofgyðja, some of whom are eagerly writing down my words. The words I speak will be the religious foundation for the rest of Viirad, and I make it clear that it is their responsibility to spread it. I use prayer as an example. I am not listening to them in their little prayer rooms deciding if I will answer them. I listen to those I see and hear from in my life. If they wish for change or action of some kind, I must be informed of it. Therefore, they should seek greater impact on the world if they want my approval. I answer prayers in the form of production contracts and military intervention, so if creatures want their prayers answered, they must align with my will and be worthy of being answered. This is achieved through worldly acts, not simply self-temperance. Of course, that can help, but only so much as it then leads to benefit to Viirad and myself.

I imagine the process of founding this religion I am creating will begin with many situations like this where my wisdom is spoken and there are many around to listen and write. These would then be aggregated in, perhaps, a book of “Viira’s Sayings”. This could then be a basis for the activities of as of yet unrecognized creatures who would become my saints. Documentation of their acts could then be used to form a respectable canon suitable for teaching. In time, I could release excerpts from this journal to be used as well.

Many of the moral specifics of what may be taught in churches down the line are not important to me, as long as it is understood that creatures should serve me and always seek to do more for me. Different existing cultures may take to different sets of moral codes, but the true judge is output: cultural, scientific, and economic. For example, a moral standard that leads to greater output with Kasan zebras may not be the optimal law for Farbrook’s hillponies.

The two religious communities I visited today provided important insight into the impact my mind control has had on society and culture within Viirad. I will be undertaking a few more in the coming days, and it is necessary that I do enough such that there are enough devout followers across Viirad that will be able to meet together, form doctrine and texts, and, most importantly, build the strength of the institution as a whole to maintain my mind control’s influence as time goes on. Without it, incompatible moral systems may lead to creatures learning lessons that lead them away from me rather than maintaining the connections in their minds I have made. Furthermore, this could have a positive impact on those my spell has not touched, creating new followers with no need for mind control.

I will still need to cast my spell, of course. During my stint in the Riverlands, I created a more efficient form of the spell that will allow me to use less mana. Currently, I apply a spell function equally across the region around the train or boat I am traveling in, but I have discovered that this is not necessary. As it takes time for the region of influence to pass through a creature, the spell function is applied more than necessary. Therefore, I do not need to maintain the full strength of the spell through the whole period of time. To “weaken” the spell, I can apply its strength to a noise function that propagates through the region. As a whole, the function is still applied to each creature, but I can use less mana for the whole region. I call this the ripple method, and it should make my future trips less straining.

The key with creating a church is that it will allow me to maintain order even with less mind control. Once it is well-established, it can begin sending members to my new territorial acquisitions and give them the proper doctrine while allocating resources to maintain order or evangelize as necessary. Time will tell how much more intervention by me is required before the church can self-propagate.

Author's Note

The ripple method is my interpretation of the effect of the "transcend infinity" decision that reduces the mana cost for converting new territories that you get after taking over half of Griffonia. Her decision here to not integrate the other lands is also my explanation for why the game doesn't give you the ability to integrate territories beyond Griffonia. Of course, the real reason is for gameplay and development reasons, but I think it also makes sense with this context.

The book of Viira's sayings is inspired by the theory that the gospels of Matthew and Luke are based on Mark, but also a lost book which contained Jesus' sayings.

As Viira takes over more and of the world, her job gets easier and easier... I do have something spicy cooking up for the end though, so stay tuned!

September 1st, 1017

Viirad grows and grows, but as each day passes, my ability to personally administer it wanes. I remember back when the extent of the empire only spanned a few Wittenlandian provinces. At the time, I could speak to the individuals in charge of each part of government and be relatively close to each one. Today, the number of governors and company board members, church officials, and scientists are too great for me to allocate sufficient time in the day for each.

With Griffonia having completely fallen under my control, I decided not to waste a year traveling the rest of the continent to mind control everyone. I am still required in Zebrica, and full control can wait until after I rule the world. In the meantime, I’ve split the western half of the continent into administrative regions to get rid of some of the bureaucratic issues that have arisen from incorporating so many governments into my own. To the burgeoning church, who have named themselves “Viirad Keepers”, I have given Griffonstone, the so-called birthplace of griffons. It is a holy land for many griffons, which should help them establish greater legitimacy in the eyes of griffons during my absence as I finish conquering Zebrica.

While the griffonian heartland and Karthinia have been rather droll, I did have a chance to catch up with what happened in the far north. The necromancers of the dread peninsula are still around, but much of the city of Magehold was destroyed by the Arcturian Order alongside their leader at the time, Rosa Maledicta. I met with their current leader, Queen Rubra, who says that, while Rosa’s faction was destroyed and the rest of the necromancers went into hiding, the Arcturian Order was mysteriously destroyed soon after, supposedly by Windigos. Curious. In any case, I let her keep control of the desolate peninsula as long as she swore loyalty to me.

The central northern territories of Griffonia are sparsely populated, mountainous and overall have no value, so I burned them to prevent any potential dissent from starting. Given their low population density, it is not only impractical for me to attempt to mind control everygriff there, but also just not worth it. The northwest proved a little more interesting. I had the pleasure of being able to kill Queen Sköldsvӓrd of Vedina personally, and after doing so, the behavior of her consort, King Ondska, fascinated me. He seemed quick to beg for mercy rather than trying to avenge his wife, saying it was out of respect for my power. He said that, because I had proven to be the stronger one, he was obliged to serve me.

An unusual ideology to be sure, but a scan of his mind showed me he did believe in his own kratocratic words. I still probably would have killed him, but he mentioned some interesting projects he had on griffon magic. While every fawn knows griffon flight magic is different from that of seers or unicorns, Ondska was adamant about his research to give griffons the same powers other races had. Most of it was alchemy-based, of course, but the parts that weren’t were promising enough that I allowed him to keep his position of power and rule northwest Griffonia as one of my governors. I couldn’t let him keep his former title, of course, as the only monarch around should be me.

I have considered giving myself the royal and governmental titles of the lands I have conquered. If I so chose, I could crown myself the Griffonian Empress or as the worldly incarnation of Mahimata tomorrow. I could even give myself titles like Chancellor of the River Federation or Kaiserin of Roam, but I don’t see a point besides the personal fun it would be. Legitimizing the states I have conquered is counterproductive - Empress of Viirad, First Under the Sky, Savior of the Faithful are titles enough.

I can’t say I am very familiar with the realms of Griffonia I recently conquered. Though I traveled through them on the way to Barrad, their lack of magic left me unsatisfied, and I spent much more time in the Riverlands. However, my knowledge of Griffonia is still leaps and bounds over my familiarity with my current Zebrican conquests. Everycreature knows of the Storm Kingdom, of course, but even a well-studied deer such as I could not claim to know the ins and outs of every southeastern jungle state or recall the difference between Osqat and the Haymirites.

Luckily, unlike other expansionist states, I have the ability to gain the relevant knowledge of the vast territories I conquer through mind control. As new territories are absorbed, I can mind control the major cities, which can then provide me with the information required to conquer the next nation. I have repeated this across Zebrica, allowing local command of my units across the continent. In return, Viirad brings education and connection with the rest of the world, allowing these newly conquered territories to begin contributing to the empire as a whole. I didn’t set out to improve the world when I first decided to conquer it, but it is clearly a necessary requirement in order to do so.

A laydeer’s understanding of morality would have one believe that doing good and doing evil are diametrically opposed, but my experience says they are actually very closely linked. After all, what is “evil”? Any given moral system defines certain things as “bad” and other things “good”. “Evil” is, therefore, when some deer, like me, comes around and does many of the things labeled “bad“. What this forgets is that, in order to do much of anything, one must first have power. Power can only be attained through many actions generally seen as good by most systems of morality. Things like honoring deals, hard work, and kindness are all seen as good, and are required for attaining power if one wants to work with anyone else. I know this better than any creature - no creature rules alone.

Therefore, in order to maximize any output, evil or good, much good is first required. Take the Griffon Reformisten as an example. Before I converted them, their goal was the genocide of ponies. However, in order to do so effectively, they would have had to do a lot of good for griffons. They would have to rule over enough subjects to have an army large enough to commit genocide on the scale they desired, and in order to be successful, they would have had to perform many good acts for their own griffons in order to maintain an effective state and incentive system.

As for myself, I’m sure the unconverted all believe I am evil for the actions I am performing, but in order to do so, I am required to also uplift millions from poverty, provide ample opportunity for social mobility, educate, and feed my creatures. I may still fit the definition of evil they give, but I am sure my enemies deliberately ignore the good I do perform to justify their opposition. Ultimately, their opinions are irrelevant, but it is a fun thought exercise.

In related news of the nature of good and evil, there seems to be a brewing schism arising in my church. One issue with letting the church grow organically is that messages become muddled over time and distance. I don’t have the time to instruct every gathering of Viirad Keepers around the world of the proper thought, but I can tip the scales when issues rise to prominence like they are now. The current debate has coalesced around the broadly compatibilist faction versus the absolutists, with the question of whether creatures are allowed to worship other gods as long as they are recognized as lesser than myself.

The true importance of the issue lies not in the philosophy but in the issue of unity. If the faithful themselves are willing to get up in arms about what is really a non-issue for me, then it does matter in that it brings disruption to what should be my perfect order. I can tell the philosophy never mattered because of how the sides are distributed across my empire. In regions geographically close to the monastery I visited a year ago, absolutists rule, their doctrine buoyed by my influence. In regions I have touched less, like the recently integrated Hindia and Kiria, compatibilists rule. This suggests to me that most simply choose the path of convenience, and unless I have intervened, their philosophies will naturally align with that convenience.

I have convened an ecumenical council to resolve this issue. Indeed, while there is nothing morally wrong with the worship of gods other than myself today, there will be after I make my decree. When I was initially designing the spell function for my mind control spell, I chose not to include a diminishment of identity other than to nation. It was, and still is, my belief that the other identities have positive effects on maintaining the fabric of society, and, therefore, instead of trying to rebuild the entire psyches of my victims, I should keep their other identities around to make sure society keeps on functioning properly.

The side effect of that choice is that I now must resolve this religious debate. Given the choice between the 2 paths before me, I obviously prefer the absolutist take. My goal is to create a society where I am the only thing that matters, so time shouldn’t be wasted on other gods. My only concern is practical, whereby if I alienate too many members of the faith, that leads them mentally in the direction away from me. I could remain neutral on the issue, but it is clear that tensions will simply boil up higher, and I would be forced to take a side eventually. I believe the church is strong enough now to decide on this issue, so siding with the absolutists is the correct choice.

Teleporting into Griffonstone is a sight to behold. This place was quite run down just a few months ago, but ordering the city be used as the center of the Viirad Keepers has meant massive influxes of non-griffon creatures and money for the construction of grand temples in my honor. Granted most are not done yet, but with the state of modern construction technologies, it will not take much longer. These temples, while they serve no direct economic or military purpose, are important as cultural sites for my faithful around the world to visit. The idea of this place will bring them a sense of grandeur to the faith, strengthening the church around the world and bringing a sense of purpose to my worshippers everywhere.

While the city is still at least half-griffon, zebras, deer, ponies, and members of the less significant races can all be seen going about their daily business. There is an absurdity of seeing changelings, hippogriffs, minotaurs, kirin, centaurs, and gargoyles all here. It is a bit disconcerting even. Perhaps I will mandate stricter separation between the races.

In any case, my presence immediately causes these zealots to gasp in awe and bow. All action in the street grinds to a halt as others see the bowing and move to follow suit. Parrots, griffons, pegasi, and members of the other flying races halt in the sky, almost diving to the ground to not disturb the stillness with their flapping. Traffic stops moving as creatures get out of their vehicles to show respect. Usually, I’m against these useless displays, but in a city designed to hold no purpose other than to worship me, it is appropriate.

Besides, this does wonders for my ego. It is quite nice just to see the faces of so many different breeds all bowing before me. When I’m at the front lines, I usually only see one race of creatures at a time. Furthermore, my inner circle hasn’t changed much, so this display of racial unity is quite a unique sight to behold. I don’t need to cast a spell or even draw any attention to myself - these creatures know what the correct behavior is. I begin walking to the former Temple of Boreas which has been rechristened as the Temple of Viira, leaving behind me a sea of bowed heads in my wake.

The room is silent as I enter the main hall. Clearly, some creature went ahead and heralded my arrival, as I am greeted by a silent congregation with all eyes on me. I can see how the 2 sides have divided themselves by their clothing. On my right, the absolutists all wear the robed garb of the cultists that worshiped the Machine. It is nice to see there was clearly some work done to find the older traditions from my original worshippers to abide by. On my left, the religious delegations are mostly clad in the clothing of their original religions, a clearly compatibilist practice. Their delegations are also composed more of races whose nations were more recently integrated - cats, hyenas, and so on.

There is no substitute for the feeling of power of knowing all the creatures before you will obey your every whim. I have no need to cast my spell on these creatures - my voice is spell enough. I address the crowd with a simple speech to declare which side is correct. I provide a small justification, but the important part is that I have spoken. The fact I said it is justification enough. To prevent overzealous retribution, I also provide a reminder that all under me are forgiven of their transgressions against me as they were when my spell was cast. This is a useful piece of doctrine I have adopted. Due to the nature of mind control, many of those who are my most faithful were actively acting against me all the way up to when the spell reached them. Thus, it is imperative for forgiveness to be a central tenet of following me as it allows for easy reunification and reconciliation. If I have not yet provided input on something or cast my spell, the path to the right decision is clouded. However, now that I have said something, the fog is lifted, and none can be blamed for having been lost in the fog. Instead, they all thank me for lifting it and unity once again returns.

As I finish my words, the compatibilists are immediately removing their clothes, the last vestiges of the beliefs they held so firmly just five minutes ago. In what I would read as a positive sign for reconciliation of the sides, the absolutists are quick to cross the aisle and provide robes that they prepared earlier. It seems, however, that there is one holdout. One griffon priest remains stubbornly still as the others around him are quick to doff their fineries.

I teleport to him and ask, “And what might your name be?”

“Archon Grimfeather, Your Divinity” he replies, “I am honored by your attention.”

“As you should be,” I consider how to broach the topic, “Tell me then, why have you not joined your brothers and sisters?”

“Because it is wrong for me to do so.”

Fascinating. It is the nature of creatures to be contradictory, but I think there is more to this than just that.

“Explain,” I say. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but I would ascribe my brevity to a desire for clarity rather than for a display of wit.

“I can’t speak for the beliefs of the other delegations, but I do know of the power of Boreas. Of course, you are the goddess of goddesses and queen of queens, but I think it would be incorrect for me to ignore him entirely,” he explains.

“Did I command you to ignore him?” I question. Recalling my own words, I can confirm I made no such statement. It could be the case that he just misheard me, which has caused funny mind control problems before, but this seems more like the case where he is listening to what he thinks my intention is and is misreading that.

“Well, no,” he says, confirming this is a case of the latter, “but certainly a command not to worship implies such a path would be preferable.”

“Your words are not incorrect, Grimfeather,” I say, “Propose to me your reasoning why Boreas should continue to be worshiped.”

“Boreas is real. He is powerful, and he has influence over our lives. Therefore, it is important to worship him lest he grow angry,” he logics.

“The weather is both real and powerful. The condition of a farmer’s hoe also has an influence over her life. Given your reasoning, should they be worshiped as well?” I counter back.

The griffon takes a moment to think before responding, “I believe some traditions do so. Maybe not specifically farming equipment, but when there are spiritual beings involved, it is important to placate them so that life may continue undisturbed. If there was a god who dealt in hoes, it would make sense for farmers to take the necessary actions to make sure their crops grow. Generally, that is through worship.”

He raises a legitimate concern. The number of deities I have angered by enslaving their chosen race is likely pushing a hundred. However, the fact that I have not yet experienced any repercussions tells me that most of them were fake, died long ago, or are not that powerful. Look at Celestia and Luna - defeated by the spiritual power of combined arms. I assume they are still alive somewhere though, seeing as the sun and moon still make their daily rotation.

As for Boreas specifically, there was a widely publicized study out of Yale that proved the existence of heaven and Boreas via direct celestial observation, but I imagine that they would call anything they saw in the sky Boreas. That being said, it was a rigorous study of the existence of said god, and it is clear they saw something.

Boreas may or may not exist, but I highly doubt his influence. Wouldn’t he have intervened on behalf of griffonkind against me? Perhaps he did and I didn’t even notice. It is in the nature of creatures to exaggerate and inflate stories. I have experienced this firsthoof - some Yaks worship the “Gift Givers” in the far north. I sought them out myself early in my travels and I met the trio of Aurora, Bori, and Alice. They were no gods, merely three talented seers. Alice never liked me, maybe because she saw what was to come of my fate. In any case, Grimfeather here clearly believes in the power of Boreas, causing him to think as he does.

“So then, will you disobey my command?” I ask him.

“Yes.”

And so, my original great question of mind control is finally asked. If I command a creature to perform a task it believes is not in my own best interest, should it disobey? Grimfeather clearly believes he is serving me more by disobeying my command and heeding Boreas. I would imagine he believes in the threat posed by Boreas to Viirad, and is therefore willing to go behind my back to defend me. A display of a certain type of loyalty, to be sure, but is it one I am willing to accept?

If I disagree with him about the threat, I could begin a round of soul alteration and change his mind to reduce his worry in this regard, or just kill him for the disobedience. If I agree the threat is warranted, I could concede the notion, but that would undermine what I’ve done so far to bridge the doctrinal gap. I require absolute obedience, and so I will not suffer his impertinence in this matter. However, I believe I can acknowledge his point at the same time.

“Your fear is understandable,” I start, “but let it be known today that all attempts by the gods to interfere with my plans will be met with my wrath. All of my faithful, heed me!” I speak the words, but they are not required, my conversation with Grimfeather has drawn the attention of the rest of the delegations. I teleport back to the podium to better make my point.

“Boreas, Maar, Celestia, Ukko, Zal, and whoever else cares to listen: you shall not interfere in the affairs of Viirad. Any attempt to do so will end with you bowing before me, or in your deaths,” I proclaim, “Therefore, Grimfeather, you need not heed the whims of Boreas any longer. I will protect you. Is that to your satisfaction?”

He looks conflicted, but eventually relents. He removes his mitre and follows in the actions of his brethren as the crowd cheers. Peering briefly into his mind, I can tell the emotional motivation behind his beliefs has not suddenly disappeared from my brief words, but he is willing to obey regardless, at least for now.

I would enjoy just basking in the adoration of these creatures for longer, but I would like to check on the progress of the conquest of Zebrica. I have wars waging against Saddle Arabia, the Storm Kingdom, and the Federation of the Great Lakes that I will have to begin integrating. I have this down to a system now. A couple teleportations to major cities accompanied by a couple casts of my spell and my bureaucracy can handle the rest. The conquests are almost a hooves off task now. If I were to not interfere at all, I’m sure the military could handle the rest of the continent themselves even without my mind control, but I still do enjoy getting into the weeds, so to speak.

Author's Note

One thing I liked about the Viiradian puppets in the game is that they all seemed linked to the locations they were managing, so I tried to elaborate on what was going on in some of them. I've always liked Vedina, so seeing Ondska become a governor in-game I thought was worthy of an explanation.

Viira's racism was always weird to me - she has a universal message, but her focus tree says she implements segregation. I feel some level of racial integration is necessary for a global empire, if at least for her religion.

As for the existence of Boreas, the "Herald of Boreas" path in the Yale Rectorate suggests Boreas is real, but the event where they "prove" his existence seems more like a meme than anything serious, and the herald is just someone who broke into the labs to eat their piece of heaven or whatever. I kept that ambiguity here.

To respond to NovemberWolf's comment about pilgrimages, my interpretation of Viira has stated that she sees mind control as a temporary measure for this generation. Given that this method of mind control is effectively the same as a life of indoctrination, she doesn't see the difference between the two. She believes the next generation, being indoctrinated through normal means, won't need a spell to be loyal. Otherwise though, a pilgrimage tradition could be useful.

January 3rd, 1018

The other day I woke up and felt a feeling I have not felt in a long time - boredom. The state apparatus of Viirad has become effective enough that my intervention is not usually needed for day-to-day affairs. Zebrica and Griffonia are totally under my control now, and just Equus remains. I will have to return to the front once my invasion begins, of course, but in the meantime, I have had unprecedented amounts of free time.

Naval invasions are notoriously complicated, but I have left the planning to Hilda. I could contribute myself, but I’d rather leave the minutiae to the experts, after all, I never attended naval college. All I had to do was ask, and I received a myriad of potential invasion plans to pick from. The one I selected was a small invasion of the Dragon Isles and Puerto Caballo in the south from my newly acquired territories in Les Meridiennes with the main force departing from Skyrim in Vedina to land in Nova Griffonia. Perhaps I should say the “Nova Griffonian Protectorate” or “Occupied Nova Griffonia”, but the semantics will hardly matter a few months from now.

To facilitate what will be the largest naval invasion in history, I have also decreed the construction of the infrastructure required for such an invasion. Ports in Les Meridiennes are being expanded tenfold and the previously undeveloped lands in Vedina are getting an expanded transportation system with housing for a million soldiers alongside relevant construction needed to support the population increase. Again, all it took was a word to Governor Ondska to make it happen. Of course, it doesn’t happen overnight, so I have been left with a few free months in which to reap the rewards of owning two thirds of the world.

There are many ways to alleviate boredom. I could simply do more work - I have no lack of problems to solve, but that’s getting old. Unifying Viirad under the Rivbit is an ongoing process but got boring after the fifth “bitization” process. However, I have been quite enamored with some new forms of entertainment. The television has become quite the modern comfort machine. In only a decade it has gone from practically unusable to something I am willing to spend larger amounts of time on.

Entertainment is a good like any other, and I do allow its distribution in Viirad. The issue is that if I do not provide it, it will be sought after, and thus, may make other nations more appealing. The Changeling Queendom is a technological near peer, and so it provides them an avenue of attack if I do not sufficiently supply it to my own creatures. This will not be a problem in the future, but, for now at least, I have been subsidizing the industry to ensure adequate entertainment for the creatures of Viirad and, more importantly, myself.

Truly, this is an age of technological marvels. I have installed air conditioning in the various palaces I have taken for myself across the world, making even the most humid climates bearable as long as one is indoors. They are also equipped with refrigerators which, connected through my system of intercontinental trade, allow me to sample any of the delicacies of the world at any time without having to teleport there myself. Speaking of kitchens, research into radiation has yielded the microwave, an amazing device allowing for the near instant reheating of food. I had a hoof in all of this research, but it is thanks to the work of the numerous institutions across Viirad that have allowed for this abundance.

These gadgets and trinkets are fun to use, but the satisfaction they bring is ultimately surface level. I require a different pleasure. The Hippodrome in Wittenburgh usually hosts sporting events, but I have demanded they introduce a new form of entertainment: gladiator fights to the death. The sport authorities would be too squeamish to implement such a bloody game properly, so I instead gave the responsibility to the Church, who was happy to oblige.

With a population spanning the globe, it is much easier to find those willing to throw their lives away in these games for my approval. Sometimes the organizers like to do games or give the participants fancy weapons or rules, but I find the barehooved fights most entertaining. Two creatures enter with nothing but the fur (or feathers) on their backs and a determination to live. With no holds barred, the two do everything in their power to disable and then kill the other. It is quite the spectacle. The best part is when one of them wins, they always look towards me. Sometimes desperately, sometimes with pride, but always asking for my approval.

The desperate ones are the most interesting. Usually, they all enter the field with bluster, but once major injuries occur, they become less willing to continue. In the cases when there is a more inexperienced fighter, they often begin to panic once hurt, straining to continue in the unfamiliar situation. Then, if they win, they always give me this helpless look where they feel like they have nothing left other than me and are trying to justify their pain and having killed somecreature by getting my approval. The ones who keep winning get boring. Just yesterday, three-time survivor Nayanthishan Zadar won his fourth victory goring his opponent on his antlers. He no longer looks at me in that same way. When he won again, he went on his hind legs, stretching out and cheering as if to say, “look at me”. I still appreciate that, but it is missing some of the nakedness of spirit from before.

In fact, all of the fights are missing something. The participants are all too - perhaps willing is the best word to use. The fact that I asked for willing participants means they all came in with the mentality that they would kill and die for me. The thrill is therefore when they have to confront what that actually means. Once they gain the experience, it just becomes another form of theater. Barbaric displays of violence in my name can only be so entertaining. I need something more raw.

It’s good to be back in the lab. I’ve renovated this place twice since it was first constructed seven years ago, but it still feels the same even if the flooring and lighting is more modern. This time, I’m not here for science, but for entertainment, although I suppose I am taking an analytical approach to my entertainment. I believe why the gladiatorial matches became boring so quickly is my lack of direct influence. Yes, the creatures were probably affected by my spell at some point, but in those pivotal moments, I had little to do with their actions even if the idea of me was firmly in their minds’ eyes.

To fix that, I’ve teleported five creatures from around Viirad to kill each other for the sake of my entertainment. An earth pony, a griffon, a zebra, a deer, and a kirin all stand distributed in a shared cell, all disoriented, and all five confused. This cell is new. Glass walls line the square room on all four sides, granting me easy observation from any direction. Was it expensive to build? In all likelihood, but I’m far beyond thinking about the cost of things.

The griffon notices me. The other four recognize the expression of shock on her face and follow her gaze. The group falls to their knees in one smooth motion. That part never gets old. The one downside of having a nice glass observation room is that speaking through it is more difficult. I have a microphone set up, but it is more direct to just beam my words directly into their minds. I will need the mental connections for later anyway. Using my telepathy, I conjure the perception of my voice in their minds at high volume. I welcome them, telling them of the opportunity they have been given by being randomly selected: the final one to remain alive among the five will be granted my favor.

I have chosen not to provide any other incentives. This will be a pure test of resolve and loyalty. If I were to threaten them with death, I would be testing their fear of death. If I were to offer a grand monetary reward, I would be testing their greed. No, this will be a pure battle of their willingness to serve.

They rise at my command. I can see their instinctive looks at each other and can tell just from their expressions the subconscious interactions they had. I am in their thoughts already, and can listen in, but none of their doubts have risen to surface level yet. Their immediate reaction was concern and fear. Then, fearing social repercussions, they looked to each other with those expressions, searching for reassurance that others were feeling the same. Upon seeing that they did share similar opinions by reading each other’s expressions, they felt relief, feeling lucky they were not in a room full of murderers. Well, at least not yet.

None of them expressed this interaction in a conscious thought, but the pony begins to speak, his voice warbling with the anxiety of confronting his goddess but strengthened by the wordless interaction he just had with the others. He fumbles over his words as he tries to refuse without saying no. He eventually settles on asking a question if that is the best way they can serve. I can barely hear him through the glass, but the volume of his thoughts come to me clear as day, even if it doesn’t help his articulation. I respond with a clear “yes”, telling him and the others that the entertainment they will provide me today is worth more than all of the work they will do in their lifetimes.

I then have the urge to do something I haven’t done with any of my test subjects before - ask for his name. I suppose he isn’t a test subject, but an athlete, and it is always better to have a name when it comes to a team to cheer on. The desire to ask is also unnecessary, as I have the ability to simply pluck his name from his mind if I need it. His name is Rough Current, and he is a farmer from the Riverlands. I address him by name, asking him and, indirectly, the others if they want to leave. I tell them I have left the door unlocked and they are free to leave at any time. The desire for freedom is not something I want disturbing their motivations.

He takes a single step towards the door before stopping. He had a visceral emotional reaction that he was betraying someone by doing so. The others also have a similar reaction of reflexive disgust. Good. That is the fruit of my work. Even though they definitely don’t want to kill another creature, they know rejecting this opportunity to gain my approval is a grave insult as well. And thus, their dilemma is set. Rough Current does not take another step, feeling the judgment of his peers around him even though they all, at some level, want to do the same.

This is what I’ve been missing. The conflict brewing in their minds is immense, and I hold the power to tip it in any way I desire. These are regular folk. The notion of murder is so far beyond their thoughts that it surpasses even their desire to serve me. Therefore, none are making the first move to attack another, as the shame and guilt of being an aggressor still outweighs their desire to serve. Even for the creatures I can feel are much closer to being able to kill, for such a weighty and dubiously moral decision, there is quite a bias towards inaction. It is like if five deer were strapped to a trolley track and one was given the chance to save their lives through the murder of one individual. The method matters as much as the amount. If it were a simple lever to switch the tracks of the trolley to instead hit the single deer, it would be an easy decision. However, if one had to use their bare hooves to beat the lone deer to death like in this case, inaction becomes the preferred choice.

And so, the five remain, all doing their best impressions of statues as sweat begins to bead down their brows. Of the five, Verdant Grove, the kirin, is experiencing the greatest amount of fear. From her mind, I can see she is a city dweller who works as a computer and is about as divorced from violence and physical labor as one can get. On the other end of the spectrum, the one closest to being able to kill is Frieda Hielscher, the resident griffon. I see in her memories a troubled youth. She has actually been in fights before, unlike some of these creatures, but she is also older, perhaps giving her a biological disadvantage.

She seems the closest emotionally to being able to kill, but that may not translate to being the first to act, as Zakarbaal Baalram, the zebra, remains unpredictable. He is the youngest of the bunch at 16 years old, but that also means he’s in the peak of his physical form. He seems impulsive, almost restless in this situation, and so I cannot rule out that he will be the first to attack. His thoughts race. They are conflicted like everycreature else's, but his thoughts seem to flip back and forth between greater extremes than the others are, unsure if he should dash out or buck the closest creature.

That closest creature is Nisha Singh, from Doehli. She is a practically minded plumber and is watching the others more than thinking about herself. Rough Current’s fetlock just twitched, and Nisha’s eyes were quick to lock onto the movement. Five creatures, trapped together not by the room they are in, but by the conflict in their minds.

It is time to make this fun. Using my existing connection to their minds, I locate the memories I target with my mind control spell. As expected, all five were affected at some point, allowing me to easily locate the associations I added. To start, I give all of them a minor increase in devotion alongside the required metacognitive associations to ensure they are able to reflect and reconsider their actions. The first visible change is in Frieda’s eyes. She seems more determined than before, and I can read her thoughts have shifted to evaluating which among them is the greatest threat. There is a similar change in all of them, and I can sense thoughts move from just not wanting to think about violence to almost an assumption that violence is inevitable. Rough and Verdant are still afraid but are no longer panicking. I can sense they feel some temptation towards fighting in a way they hadn’t before, which makes their thoughts focus more on the topic of violence even if they still consider performing those actions reprehensible.

The relationship between devotion and their likelihood to attack is non-linear. I could directly tune their bloodlust or morals if I could find the relevant associations, but increasing devotion instead causes their thoughts to come into conflict with each other. Rather than becoming more violent creatures, my tweaks simply make it easier for them to justify violence. In Rough and Verdant’s minds, their anxiety causes them to think rapidly, and as I adjust their devotion to me, the thoughts of obedience in spite of their reservations begin to make more sense to them. They become more comfortable, and therefore, their panic reduces merely to stress.

For Nisha and Frieda, while they were initially unsure of what to think, my influence means their beliefs of what they think will happen have changed. Their increased devotion has brought a sense of certainty about the future, where they believe violence will definitely now occur. They will not make the first move yet but are beginning to brace for what feels to them an inevitable impact.

Zakarbaal is different from the others. While none of the others have yet consciously considered striking first, he is. His thoughts are characterized by a dynamic where he thinks of attacking someone and how, followed by guilt from having thought that. For now, the guilt is keeping him in check, but I don’t imagine it will be for long. I crank everyone’s dials up another notch.

Now, the main thing holding them back is the desire to not be a hypocrite. Since they made the decision to not attack in the past minutes, there is a bias to stick with that decision even though their devotion has sufficiently justified it to them. None have yet consciously noticed that I am influencing them, but Nisha and Rough have noticed how quickly their thoughts have changed. In contrast,

Zakarbaal just made his move. He spun around, bucking Nisha in the head while she was looking at another creature. Pressing the advantage, he immediately tackles the doe, trying to get a pin with his left forehoof while punching with the right. Rough Current watches, his face showing signs of horror, but I can tell from his thoughts a part of him is trying to see if he has an easy opportunity to score a hit.

He should, however, be paying attention to the others, as Frieda takes the opportunity to put him in a chokehold. Before he can react, she uses her other front claw to strike his eyes, eliciting a scream of pain. It’s a smart move. Her thoughts point to a sense of urgency as the source of her motivation, as she believed she had to take the initiative because her window to win was closing. Seeing the initial fight has seemed to have relaxed some of her mental barriers as well.

Alone, Verdant shuffles back in reaction to the fighting before her, pressing her back against the glass. This is not driven by a strategy to avoid conflict in order to win, but merely a subconscious desire not to fight, as I can tell from her thoughts, which remain simple and fearful. Zakarbaal and Nisha are far too busy to notice her, and Frieda is occupied strangling Rough. It is difficult to fight two opponents at once, so this situation where two pairs have formed while the least violent among them cowers seems to be the most likely outcome of a fight among five.

Zakarbaal is about to get an unrecoverable advantage, but his face accidentally skims Nisha’s antlers, causing him to recoil, and giving her a chance to escape from his hold. They are amateurs, but I think that is actually a good thing. Out of their desire to serve, they have to learn how to fight, and learn as quickly as possible. The two aggressors are consumed with the desire to win, while the two recipients of their aggression are mostly motivated by self-defense. Funny how violence suddenly becomes acceptable as long as somecreature else strikes first.

There is an argument to say that all of their motivations are already corrupted. Being motivated to win or survive is not the same as devotion to me. In the same vein, Verdant’s cowering is not properly motivated either. Therefore, my removal of other incentives was pointless as their motivations are still tainted. I would counter that argument by saying that their current motivations are at least intrinsic rather than extrinsic. With no material difference being presented, I am testing their minds, which is my goal. Though a desire to seek my approval is not the only factor in their decision making, I can read Frieda’s mind right now, and it is justifying her asphyxiation of Rough because of the step he took towards the exit before the fight began. That is pure enough for me.

What I dislike, though, is Verdant’s passivity. She isn’t thinking of strategy or survival and has chosen simply to freeze. I tweak her devotion up again and then perform some active mind control to interrupt her thought spiral. With the increased faith, she is able to finally take an objective measure of the situation. Of course, her mind is still biased to her current action, and so she comes to the conclusion that waiting out the fights will be good as to reduce the number of creatures threatening her. It is a valid strategy, but more importantly is now one that she actively chose.

As Rough Current’s face grows more and more purple and his thrashing begins to slow, Frieda gets the chance to take a look around her, seeing the ongoing fight between Zakarbaal and Nisha and the lone form of Verdant trying to look small. She feels indignant at how Verdant is taking advantage of their fighting without dirtying her own hooves and has marked her as her next target. Meanwhile, Zakarbaal begins to shout loudly as his relentless barrage of blows breaks through Nisha’s weakened defenses, trying to finish her off before it reforms.

I feel my connection to Rough’s mind break as he dies, but Frieda is holding on still to make sure of it as she does not have the same insight I do. A loud snap rings out as Zakarbaal breaks one of Nisha’s antlers off with a powerful stomp on the prone deer. Shouting, he grabs a hold of it before slamming it down directly on Nisha’s neck. Another connection severed. Frieda lets go of Rough’s limp body, and is starting to move towards Verdant, who is trying to maintain distance. However, Zakarbaal, who has spent the most energy of them all, looks between the two potential targets and identifies Frieda as the greater threat. While Frieda’s eyes are on Verdant, he lunges at her.

Frieda is taken by surprise but manages to reflexively get a talon strike on the zebra’s neck, making him back up. Verdant continues to back away from the fight, but inadvertently steps into the rapidly expanding pool of blood emanating from Nisha’s corpse. She immediately stops moving in that direction but doesn’t want to move closer to the battle between the zebra and griffon either.

As Zakarbaal’s expression angers, Frieda flaps twice, taking to the air. The cell’s ceiling is not high enough for her to be totally out of range, but she still wants the power of gravity on her side. Zakarbaal reacts by moving further back towards Verdant, perhaps trying to get ready for a running jump. Seeing an opportunity to maximize force, Frieda dives at the zebra, trying to use the length of the room to build force before Zakarbaal can do the same by running. Zakarbaal attempts to brace, but is slammed against the glass, the first layer of which splinters into a web pattern. Verdant runs away, slipping in Nisha’s blood, but managing to cross the room as Frieda and Zakarbaal fight on the other side.

With my view now obstructed by the shatter pattern on the glass, I have to move to the side slightly to get a better look at what is happening. Frieda is trying to keep Zakarbaal pinned, but he lets her get closer before he bites into her neck. With a pained gasp, Frieda tries to push herself off, but Zakarbaal senses an opportunity and tightens his jaw while grabbing onto her with his hooves. Frieda tries to push away with her claws, but pushing away causes greater pain as Zakarbaal does not release his bite. She tries again, flapping too this time, but Zakarbaal’s grip is firm.

Realizing she can’t get out of the grip, she attempts to move her front claws up towards Zakarbaal’s neck to attack where she clawed him earlier. His neck is obviously exposed due to him actively biting her, and so he sees this coming. In response, he squeezes all his limbs tighter, bringing her into an embrace that stops Frieda’s claws in their tracks. I can sense his determination - his inner monologue is nothing but a scream to keep his strength and adrenaline up. Frieda weakens. She is too old to break out, and so must simply endure the pain of the bite.

Zakarbaal eventually tires, releasing the griffon from his grip. Frieda staggers back, holding her claw to the bite mark. Her movement is unsteady, overwhelmed by pain. Zakarbaal is also breathing raggedly, but his youth allows him to keep going. He walks to Nisha’s body and yanks out the antler he used to kill her with his mouth. He begins walking towards Frieda, both of them too out of breath to run.

The zebra goes up on his hind legs, ready to bring down the antler and claim another kill. Frieda moves the claw from her bite wound to try and divert the attack, but Zakarbaal pushes it out of the way with a hoof. Using his weight, he brings down the antler where it lands on Frieda’s side, quickly penetrating her feathers. With two wounds now, Frieda is unable to mount a serious defense. Zakarbaal’s mind shows no reservation with finishing off the wounded victim, having been angered by the cut she gave him, which is still open. The pattern is regular: he removes the antler and slowly gets into position before using gravity to help him stab the griffon again. He does this three times, but she is dead after the second.

Only two creatures remain. The fresh but fearful Verdant looks at the battered but now proven Zakarbaal. She has no idea what to do. Zakarbaal removes the antler once more and turns to face Verdant. She looks back at him in fear. Despite his obvious tiredness and pain, the image of the blood-stained young zebra remains intimidating. They are both covered in blood, but their patterns betray their origins. Verdant’s hooves and lower body are drenched, having slipped next to Nisha while Zakarbaal's body is covered in splatter patterns from having himself been the source of much of the mess. The mess is irksome, but it is contained within the observation cell, an advantage of having full walls instead of bars.

Zakarbaal walks slowly towards Verdant. By nature of being in the center of the room, he controls the space. To avoid him, Verdant would have to circle the outer walls of the room, while Zakarbaal can just rotate his body. I don’t see that playing out well for Verdant. She attempts to run around the room to maintain distance, but she quickly realizes this truth as well. Zakarbaal simply follows her around, allowing Verdant to tire herself out, simultaneously starting to regain his own strength.

Realizing she’s reducing her chances of surviving by continuing to flee, she finally begins to consider an angle of attack. Zakarbaal does not look to be fazed at the prospect of killing one who is projecting such a look of helplessness. His conscious thoughts are a mantra to me, which I would guess is a way to push down subconscious feelings that may inspire mercy. This is what is lost in the gladiators who return to fight again. Zakarbaal knows his mind is weak, not capable of serving fully. If he stops, he might start to feel guilty or not have the mental strength to kill Verdant. Therefore, he must rely on his devotion and loyalty to defeat the traitorous parts of his mind.

That is why death is required for these fights. For many creatures, it takes a close encounter with mortality to be faced with the fundamental nature of their own characters. With his life on the line, Zakarbaal has chosen me. The same thoughts are running through Verdant, but from the opposite direction. Whereas Zakarbaal is trying to suppress feelings with his devotion, Verdant is trying to conjure feelings of courage by calling on my name.

As Zakarbaal closes in, Verdant’s mind becomes a flurry of statements all relating to me. She tells herself over and over to be like me, to not disappoint me. She interleaves those thoughts with pleas for my aid. I have already given you special treatment Verdant - the rest is up to you. Zakarbaal gets up on his hind legs again, ready to end the kirin’s life like he did Frieda’s. The only real course of action Verdant has thought of is to just charge with everything she has, which I don’t imagine will succeed. She knows this and is desperately trying to see any other way out before Zakarbaal can lethally impale her.

Suddenly, inspiration strikes her as her eyes land on the open cut Frieda left on his neck. She has no idea if her magic is up to the task, but it’s the best chance she has. With a desperate shout, she grips the wound in her telekinesis and tries to pull with all her might. Her grip is imprecise, but it causes enough pain for Zakarbaal to cry out and land back on all fours. In his vocalization, he accidentally drops the antler in his mouth, losing his weapon. Verdant is buoyed by the success, and regrips the cut, trying to hold less of the general flesh and more of just the damaged skin. Zakarbaal, now registering the kirin as a threat, tackles her with the rest of his strength, ignoring his pain.

He lands on her but is no longer able to direct his force well due to weakness and the new pain. Verdant’s horn glow fades as she is pushed on her back with Zakarbaal above her. However, in the dying glow of her influence, she manages to open the wound just a bit more, eliciting a howl from the zebra. He raises his right hoof and punches the downed kirin in the face, but he is unable to put much force behind it. This being the first real blow she’s taken, Verdant is able to shake it off, and she refocuses on the now larger gash on Zakarbaal’s neck. Whether it is due to her profession involving precise telekinetic manipulation of mechanical calculators or dumb luck I cannot say, but she manages to get a hold of it and pull with all her might. Her force finds an artery, and blood begins squirting rhythmically with Zakarbaal’s heart rate, which is quite high.

Zakarbaal tries to muster a response, but his mind is already slowing from the lack of oxygen, his yowl of pain coming out as more of a whimper. He starts to lose his balance as his knees buckle, causing him to stagger back. Verdant is shocked it worked, and as she gets up, she lets out a guttural battle cry, turning the tables on him. With death already inevitable given the blood loss, Zakarbaal is an easy target for the inexperienced kirin. She pushes him to the ground, stomping repeatedly on his open wound. The damage has already been done though, and her lack of technique means the blunt force trauma is relatively ineffectual. I can no longer hear Zakarbaal’s thoughts.

Verdant eventually calms down enough to realize Zakarbaal is dead, and, as she catches her breath, she surveys the carnage before her. Four dead bodies, three pools of blood, two hooves resting squarely in the pool before her, and one survivor - herself. She’s a bit shell-shocked, eyes wide and mind barely comprehending. Half an hour ago, she was at work like normal. Now, she is a killer. I teleport behind her, mindful to levitate just above the blood so as to not stain my own hooves and coat.

“Congratulations, Verdant Grove,” I say to her.

“But I… I…” she stammers.

“You won. Thus, you have gained my favor,” I remind her.

“No, no, no,” she reacts, “I don’t deserve it. The zebra… he had more faith than me.”

“He may have displayed his devotion more aggressively, but that does not make him more deserving. I was present in both of your minds, and I find your devotion sufficient,” I explain.

Verdant still doesn’t understand, “But… he killed two of the others while they were still strong. I… I just finished him off.”

“He chose to take a strategy of acting first. In his execution he left himself vulnerable to you. In the end, he is dead, and you are alive. Your strategy bore fruit while his did not. It is true your courage was lacking to start, but I gave you the strength you required. Remember, I always seek results over appearances,” I reveal to her.

“Like that priest said…” she recalls. I see she has a memory of a priest of the Virad Keepers visiting her city to give a sermon. Her wits return to her, and she kowtows, her snout firmly in Zakarbaal’s blood.

“You need not bow Verdant,” I tell her while raising her up with my hoof, “for I grant you now my blessing.” I levitate towards her a token of my blessing, something I’ve made in these past years as a way of granting honor to creatures in my service. She is the first kirin to receive the small golden disk. Once she grasps it, I teleport the pair of us to her workplace in Fragrance.

Appearing next to her empty desk in the middle of the rows of identical ones in the room, Verdant’s coworkers all stop to look at the sudden appearance of myself and her. Verdant herself is quite overwhelmed, still reeling from the stressful experience. The rest of the kirin are shocked to see their mild-mannered friend covered in blood next to the god-empress of Viirad. I wonder how they’ll treat her differently now.

Life is good. There is always more work to be done, but finally being able to take a break is quite refreshing. I can also start thinking about things far into the future now that I have no immediate threats to contend with. I recently found a fawn in the former Austurland who has seer abilities. She had a name before, but it is irrelevant now that I have removed her from her parents. She will be named the only appropriate name for a potential successor to me: Viira II. I have not yet unlocked the secrets to immortality, and so it is good to have a backup. I could have a child myself, but I could never give the reins of the empire to a non-seer. The genetics of the abilities are not well-understood, and so it is better to have a chosen seer successor.

Like in a board game, I hold such a commanding position that it is better to think about how I can lose, as the default path results in my victory. As far as I am aware, there is no celestial or demonic being that has both the ability and desire to stop me. If Queen Rubra is to be believed, the Windigos are weak. They attempted to foment disharmony in the dread peninsula as to avoid being starved out, but as my conquest comes to a close, I would imagine they will have less and less conflict and hatred to feed off of as my perfect order grows stronger and stronger. The peak of their power would have been last year, and they did nothing.

Perhaps the greatest threat to my reign lies behind mirrors in other worlds. There are several well-documented cases of interactions with worlds beyond this one, but none ended with any significant interdimensional relationships. I could have these portals destroyed, but they may serve as the next avenue for my conquests as well as being potential sources of knowledge.

For a more present and likely consideration, Discord is still around. He has not interfered in my affairs yet, at least, that I’m aware of. His power is legendary and is perhaps singlehoofedly the reason history gets so muddled if one goes back more than a thousand years ago to the era of his reign. I don’t know why he hasn’t done anything significant yet. Surely the order I represent would be counter to his own chaos. Maybe the chaos of the Changeling occupation of Equestria is enough to sate him. As with all chaotic things, he must be contained. I have two continents worth of magical artifacts that can help alongside my own significant powers. Despite his god-like reality alteration powers, he should still be vulnerable to magical nullification and absorption, but I am developing numerous layers of backups in case he isn’t to ensure he will not be a problem.

Sombra was killed when the Changelings took over the Crystal Empire. Though he has escaped death before, it is clear just his magic alone is not a threat to me. By the time he can reform, his ponies will no longer be receptive to his rule, and he will be dealt with easily. He also did some work for me by imprisoning Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, removing a potential threat. Lord Tirek does possess the raw magic power to threaten me, but I just need to make sure he never leaves Tartarus. I also control his family in Senturya and Gargiloya, which I can use as leverage. Celestia and Luna are powerful, but they have shown they are not powerful enough to defeat me. Wherever they are, I have no need to disturb their raising of the sun and moon. It would be quite annoying to have to do it myself or arrange for the necessary number of magical creatures to have it done in my stead. My increased mental abilities also protect my dreams, preventing an attack from Luna.

That leaves just the Princess of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle. I met her once briefly near the beginning of my travels at her School of Friendship back before the Changelings demolished it. She struck me as naive and idealistic, not what I expected for a pony who had defeated so many magical threats to Equestria. This seems to indicate that her ideology has not failed her yet, which could only be possible if she possessed great power - the so-called magic of friendship. The lecture I attended that she spoke at was insightful. Loyalty, Generosity, Kindness, Honesty, and Laughter are all important virtues, and my mind control research has independently come to the same conclusion that they are important for building relationships. However, her power seems to be greater than simply having friends.

Supposedly, Twilight uses a set of magical artifacts known as the Elements of Harmony to defeat her foes, but I have not seen them myself. Regardless of the veracity of the specifics though, it is clear she defeated them with something, and therefore she and the elements remain a threat to me. However, they did not use this power during the Great War, and Equestria was defeated by the Changelings. I believe it is because all six element bearers are required for the magic to work, and by separating them, the Changelings were able to avoid it. To this day, I don’t believe any of the bearers are confirmed to be dead, but if Chrysalis hasn’t been able to find some of them in years, then I imagine they will not be an obstacle for me. I imagine the power must lie in the artifacts themselves, so I will have to make sure to destroy or separate them once I find them in order to prevent the outside chance the six come together.

The probability of any of these being a problem is low. Chances are, I encounter a fractured Changeling state, already stretched thin managing its numerous occupied territories and easily steamroll across the continent. Any resistance can be dealt with by mind control, and though it may take months to traverse the continent, there are no other external threats that I can be surprised by. Barring Faust herself coming down and smiting me, there is no potential threat that I haven’t accounted for yet. The world is already mine; Chrysalis just doesn’t know it yet.

Author's Note

This chapter contains reference to the focuses "Fabricated Pleasures" and "A Different Pleasure" where Viira seeks entertainment. In the "A Different Pleasure" description, it describes that she wishes to see struggle, which is what I have depicted. Just death is not enough - she wants to see their conflict.

Also, she finds a seer fawn as described in the event "The Special". The game never names the child, but I would imagine Viira would do something like what I've written.

Having never written anything before, I never realized that fight scenes take so many words. This fight is pretty short and it by itself would basically be the longest chapter in the entire story.

The next chapter will be the last chapter.

The End (part 1)

How long has it been? Years now definitely. 3 years? 5 years? A decade?

I’m so hungry…

I wonder how the girls are doing? No, not again. You’ve been down this path before, and it only hurts.

I hope they’re still alive.

How can my throat feel dry if I’m breathing liquid? I still can’t figure it out.

…

I shiver. It’s time again. That all too familiar draining feeling courses across my body, making everything feel cold. I’m pretty sure the fluid around me is supposed to be body temperature, so the feeling is probably just in my head. Maybe it’s a magical coldness. I tried to use my magic to analyze it once, but it hurt too much. Darn this rod in my horn. Heh. I’ve suffered its debilitating effects for however long I’ve been down here and all I have to say is “darn”? The foals aren’t around, I can swear if I want, but I guess I’m still worried somehow. It is funny, and I’ll take all the amusement I can get down here.

I’m ninety percent sure these love harvests are daily. Better add it to the tally. 2006, plus or minus 10. I’m still kicking myself for not counting in the beginning; it makes the big numbers feel more important if I know it's exact instead of just probably correct. I wish it was easier to tell the passage of time, then I wouldn’t have to guess. Assuming they are daily, that would mean I’ve been here for about five and a half years. That feels right, I guess, not that I can prove any of that. If I got out and somepony told me it had been three years, I’d believe it. I’d probably believe ten years or maybe even twenty. Probably not a hundred though.

I can’t use the feedings to count it. If the love harvests are consistent, the food is not - if you can even call intravenous feeding food. Sometimes the food comes when I’m asleep, and sometimes, I don’t even notice it happening. They never feed me enough to feel full, so it’s hard to use that feeling as a unit of time. My, uh, urinary discharges and, er, bowel movements are also irregular, so I can’t use them either. Oh gosh that’s embarrassing to think about. It’s so absurd to me that I still am though. I’ve been here for so long, but I’m still not over peeing in the same liquid I breathe in. I haven’t gotten an infection yet, so there is obviously a system in place to keep things clean, but it’s still so… weird.

I let out a little laugh, just to remind myself I still can. It sounds strange in the liquid, but it gives my diaphragm some exercise. A little toilet humor to keep the spirits up, what a world.

…

I think I just fell asleep. It’s so easy to lose consciousness in here. It’s relatively dark, with the outside wall having only a few spaces where light can reach through. I imagine this is what the inside of a womb would look like. I don’t sleep normally anymore. With no temporal reference point, I find myself slipping in and out of consciousness arbitrarily. It doesn’t help that there is nothing to do here. Well, I guess I can work on my escape.

Obviously, I’m in no physical shape to make a run for it. I know I’m in the caves below Canterlot, but making it to the surface would be quite difficult. My muscles have atrophied from years of malnourishment and lack of use. I hope I can still walk. Maybe I can’t fly anymore, but I should still be able to glide if that somehow comes up. It did when Cadence and I were trapped down here in 1002. Oh Cadence, I hope you got out of the prison Sombra left you in… Anyways, until I’ve tried, I won’t know, so there’s no point dwelling on the worst case scenarios.

I use my wings to lift my lower body over to the edge of the pod. Cocoon? I still haven’t decided on what to call this thing. My front hooves are still tied to the metal plate at the back of the pod, but I can get my back hooves close because the plate is not quite securely attached to the wall. I get close to one of the gaps in the metal where the bare material of the cocoon is exposed to the outside world. These are the same places where my light comes from. I have little strength, but I put what little I have into rubbing the surface of the rubbery wall.

It will probably take a few more years to actually damage the thing enough to break it, but the one thing I do have is time. What will happen once I do though? Maybe it’ll start a leak that will force them to open the metal part and let me out of the cocoon temporarily to fix it. Then, maybe I can break free assuming I have the strength to. Who knows, they could be understaffed at the time, or maybe they won’t think I’m a threat and let a scientist do it with little supervision. Never underestimate the power of mismanagement.

I know the chances of success are remote, but 0.1% is infinitely better than 0. Even if I don’t decide to go all the way and poke a hole, at least I’ll have the option to, and having a choice is better no choice, even if the rock and hard place wouldn’t be caught dead near this one.

Swipe, swipe, swipe. Tap, tap, tap. Back and forth, back and forth. My legs are starting to hurt. I can keep going tomorrow or whenever I wake up.

I know that sound. That distinct rumble and sliding of metal on metal means the shell around the cocoon is being opened. More light starts coming through, and I open my eyes to see the outside. It’s always nice to see something that isn’t the same cocoon walls, even if it’s not always a sign of good news. What will it be this time? A new scientist being shown around? Chrysalis coming around to gloat? Maybe it’ll be the governor again, that was a nice chat - or maybe it’s the girls, swooping in for a rescue! Or Starlight, maybe even Sunset! That would be nice. Even if they never come, I will never stop hoping.

As usual, it takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the harsh lab lights. Two figures resolve before me, a changeling and - a pegasus? Something’s up. On the other side of the room, a group of changeling and pony soldiers are holding a group of changeling scientists at gunpoint. Is this a rescue? I look at the pegasus - something about him seems familiar, but I don’t know his name. The changeling next to him - wait, I remember her. It was a while ago now, but she was with Governor Jachs when he snuck in here to see me. Obersleutnant Alcippe, I believe.

Another changeling comes into view from the side. He looks familiar too - Marsilio, the medical officer that was also with the governor. He’s levitating a fire ax - I think it’s happening!
Marsilio slams the ax into the side of the cocoon, puncturing it. The goo starts flowing from the hole as Alcippe and the pegasus peel at the material, expanding the gash. I can feel myself moving downwards with the fluid, the metal plate I’m strapped to also lowering.

Wait, how do I go from breathing liquid to breathing air again? Uh, is this going to be a problem?

“Breathe out, Princess!” Marsilio shouts, “And don’t breathe in until you can get air!”

Breathe out? Ok, I can do that. I exhale with all of my strength, and hold. And hold. And hold. Suddenly, there is a catastrophic failure of the cocoon, and myself and the metal plate get ejected from the bottom. I feel air for the first time in years, and breathe in.

Ow. Ow. Ow. The air burns going in. I’m forced to cut my breath short as I’m overcome with the worst coughing fit of my life. Ow. Each cough rattles my weak lungs, but it is so good to finally breathe normally again. The dryness of the air on my wet fur - I haven’t felt anything close to this for so long…

I just focus on breathing until I can finally do so without coughing in the middle. I think somepony removed my shackles, but I didn’t notice when. Oh my Celestia, it is good to be free. I look up to see my rescuers.

“Alcippe, right?” I ask, getting a quick affirmation. I turn to the pegasus. He’s in a uniform similar to the royal guard’s, but it seems to have been modified with changeling designs. I switch to ponish, “You look familiar. Sorry, have we met?” I ask.

His face bundles up in shame, “Kommandant Second Wind,” he says, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I respond, “I should be the one apologizing. After all, I’m not exactly the pinnacle of regality right now.” I put a hoof on a patchy piece of fur for emphasis.

“No, I mean I’m sorry for betraying you. I was in the royal guard before, but now I’m… I’m…” he continues.

I think I understand. I cut him off, “It’s okay, Kommandant. I bear much more of the responsibility for Equestria’s loss than you do. You did what you had to.” He excuses himself and returns to his soldiers who are still keeping watch over the scientists on the other side of the room. Some of the soldiers, both pony and changeling, are looking over at me. I turn to Marsilio. “Sorry, do you have anything to drink? I’m terribly thirsty,” I request. His eyes widen, remembering our previous encounter.

“Of course, I should have remembered from before,” he says before levitating over a bottle of water from a table. He holds the bottle in his telekinesis, allowing me to drink from it. I don’t want to try any magic myself yet, so I’m grateful. Wow this feels good. Getting your liquids intravenously is not the same.

Having gulped down the water, I turn to Alcippe, “So what changed? I thought you said you weren’t going to free me?”

“A lot,” she says, “We’ll have a meeting going over everything that’s happened since you’ve been down here, but for now, we need to get you out of here.” Two changelings come over and move me onto a stretcher. As they carry me to the exit, Second Wind’s soldiers leave the scientists behind. We’re moving quickly now, with several changelings and a unicorn keeping my stretcher moving at a brisk pace. I shiver. The wind chill is making me cold. It’s exciting to feel something again, but I would prefer it if it wasn’t a bad feeling.

Someling notices, and covers me in a blanket, “Thank you,” I tell her, to which she looks a little guilty, before returning to her position with the others. Showing kindness to your enemies does not come naturally, it seems. Clearly, there is still animosity between our races, but this force is racially integrated. Maybe Jachs kept his promise to spread what little harmony he could.

We’re out of the lab and into the caves proper now. It is darker, but Alcippe and Second Wind’s soldiers turn on their lights, illuminating the path out. We pass another set of soldiers holding a group of changelings captive. They must have been the outer guards. As we pass, they form up with our group, leaving the captive guards behind. This is clearly not an official operation.

After a few minutes, we make it out. The entrance is small and nondescript, with a row of trucks waiting for us at the edge of a dirt road. The soldiers move with practiced efficiency, boarding quickly and driving off. They take more time with me though, gently pushing my stretcher into the back of a truck and closing the doors. Marsilio is here in the back with me, with Alcippe in the front. I can feel the engine starting, and we’re off to who knows where. Wait, I know who knows.

“Where are we going?” I ask Marsilio.

“The castle. We’ve arranged for a private room to treat you,” he responds, “Listen, I know you probably have a lot of questions, but I need to make sure you’re ok first. How are you feeling?”

How am I feeling? Glad to be free, but I think he means from a medical perspective. “Good, all things considered. It hurts like heck to breathe, I can barely move my limbs, and there’s a rod in my horn, but I feel better than I have in years,” I tell him.

“It hurts to breathe? Can you describe how?” he asks.

“Uh, it’s like a burning sensation in my throat? I can’t breathe too deeply before my chest starts hurting too,” I explain.

“Ok, I think that’s normal seeing as you had a lot of liquid in your lungs. Sorry, I work in a lab, so I haven’t treated a patient in a long time,” he says, “If it gets worse, tell me, but for now I’m going to take your blood pressure and heart rate.” He proceeds to begin running his measurements. I notice the IV needle still in my neck. Somepony or someling must have removed the tube going in while I wasn’t paying attention.

“Ok, Princess, your blood pressure is pretty low, so I’m going to give you some Hartwing’s solution to bring it up, if that’s alright with you?” Marsilio says, asking for my permission.

“Go ahead,” I say, “you don’t need to ask my permission, just do what you have to.” I’m hardly a medical expert, and at this point I’m pretty sure these changelings are trying to help me. He, a changeling, still calls me “princess”. I suppose I’m still the princess of friendship even if Equestria is defunct.

Friendship. It's the only reason I’m out of that place. Though it may not have been the friends I expected to rescue me, they are friends all the same. I met Jachs, Alcippe, and Marsilio when they snuck into the lab in the caves. It must have been years ago if my count of time is correct. Our conversation couldn’t have been longer than 5 minutes, but it seemed to be very impactful for them. I don’t know what made them go into the caves in the first place, but I’m glad they did.

Everything about them suggested that they were loyal to their queen but still wanted to show kindness. When they left, they looked a little defeated knowing they could never save me without also invoking the ire of the queen and probably losing their lives. To see them now committing arguably treasonous acts to free me, well, things must have changed a lot.

A part of me hopes that the story had a fairytale ending, with the changelings reformed and a mutual understanding reached between our two nations, but the evidence doesn’t support that. If this was just some splinter faction, these being the only bad changelings left, then Alcippe and Second Wind wouldn’t have been so quick to get in and get out. This is clearly going behind the backs of the Queen’s Guard.

And so, I ask Marsilio, “Why?”

He understands my meaning immediately and replies, “It’s… a long story, but suffice to say there is a world-ending threat, and we need you to save us.”

“Just like the old days,” I crack a wry smile. Something about the way he worded it brings back good memories of adventures from years ago. It feels like forever ago now, but how long was it really?

“How long was I in there for?” I continue.

“Er, we don’t really know exactly. You would know better than us, right?” he says apologetically.

“What’s today’s date?” I ask instead.

“Uh,” he glances at his watch, “April 19th, 1018.”

So the love harvesting was daily. I was in that cocoon for five years. If my number was so accurate, that means the harvests went on like clockwork through weekends and holidays. Probably an automated system then.

“So how long does that make it?” Marsilio asks.

“Five years,” I answer.

“Oh,” is the only response. I sense a level of guilt behind his words. He must be thinking of how he waited more than two years in the time since meeting me there first and now rescuing me. He is silent and continues his medical work. He must feel horrible. I won’t push him on the subject.

I wake up to the truck’s engine stopping. We’re here. A few changelings come open the back door and begin levitating the stretcher out. It is a standard military garage, and the troops start covering the truck like the others in the garage as soon as I am out, I assume to hide the fact that it was used. I’m transported through a number of hallways. The architecture of the royal castle is familiar, but the changelings have changed many of the banners and other designs. Eventually, I am brought into an office which looks to have been refurbished into an imitation hospital room where I am moved onto a bed. It isn’t a hospital bed, just a normal bed, but it will do.

Alcippe addresses the other changelings, “Remember, nothing you did here today happened. You saw nothing, you heard nothing, got it?” They give her a quick “yes ma’am” before leaving just me, Marsilio, and Alcippe alone.

“The governor will be here soon to explain everything,” Alcippe says.

“Marsilio tells me you have somecreature that needs to be rainbow lasered?” I say, keeping my tone light. They went through all this trouble - the least I can do is help them relax.

Alcippe looks quizzically but does let out a small laugh once she gets it, “Something like that, Princess.”

“So who, or what, is the problem?” I ask. I’m curious to know what is so terrible that it would make loyal changelings commit treason to get me. It must be some kind of threat bigger than Chrysalis’ war machine that, for some reason, only I and the elements of harmony can defeat. Is Grogar back again? Has Discord had enough of the changelings?

“You’ve probably never heard of her,” prefaces Alcippe, “but maybe this map can help.” She pulls out a map of the world and lays it out on my belly. I push down on the bed to move myself into a more upright position. Oof, that’s straining. I hope that gets easier. I lift the edges of the map to get a better view.

Ok, Canterlot projection, dated January of this year, continents look pretty normal-shaped, just your regular-old world map. Huh, there are only two colors on this map. Equus, in gray, marks the Changeling Queendom, with smaller divisions showing various administrative protectorates. I guess without Equestria in the way, Chrysalis was able to unify the whole continent. That’s big news to me, but I don’t think that’s what Alcippe is talking about. Why are all of Griffonia and Zebrica red? Is this just a map of Equus? Oh. Written twice, once for each continent, are the letters “V”, “I”, “I”, “R”, “A” and “D”.

This kerning is terrible. Whoever made this map probably could have gotten away with half the spacing between the letters. This spread apart, the letters barely look like a word, especially since I’m not already familiar with the country name. I probably won’t have an opportunity to send a letter to the cartographer for a while though. “Viirad”, I feel like I’ve seen that somewhere before. Where have I heard that before?

There’s probably a paper here about how extended sensory deprivation has negative effects on recall, but I need to stay on task. Viirad. Did I see it on a map? No, it was a newspaper article - something on the later pages. The Kasa Free State was invaded by Viirad. Yes, I remember now, this has to do with Barrad. There was reporting that the Magocracy had been taken over by Viira… something. I can’t remember her last name. Was it an L name? I remember thinking “haven’t I met her before?” Maybe I should have been paying more attention, but my hooves were full at the time keeping Equestria running. The door opens and another changeling walks in - it’s Jachs.

“Generalmajor,” Alcippe addresses him as she walks up to him, “I’ve just been getting Princess Twilight up to speed on the last five years.”

Jachs pulls up to the foot of the bed before speaking, “Thank you Alcippe, but let’s put ranks aside for now. Officially, none of this is happening, and we have much bigger problems. Just Jachs is fine. That goes for you too, Princess.”

“I appreciate that Jachs, but if we’re putting ranks aside, you don’t have to call me Princess either. I understand if you don’t want to use the term given how the war turned out,” I respond, trying to show some grace back.

He looks a little surprised at himself. I think he didn’t even notice he said the word, “Thank you, but I hope you understand if I still do.”

I smile back, “Well, you do seem to have big problems. Is Viirad controlled by a deer seer named Viira?”

Alcippe looks shocked, “Wait, you know of her, Princess?”

Marsilio speaks up, saying, “The dates line up, but Viirad was very small at the time.”

“I think I met her.”

Jachs joins in surprise, “You met her? VOPS has been basically kidnapping everycreature who knew her in Olenia and otherwise to get information. Did they interrogate you about her?”

Alcippe jumps in on the speculation, “They couldn’t have. The Queen’s Guard probably hid information about her from VOPS.”

Before the speculation starts running rampant, I answer to the best of my ability, “They didn’t, but probably because I only met her briefly. She came up to me after I gave a lecture about the magic of friendship. At first, she stuck out to me because there aren’t many seers, but then because she struck me as… weird.”

“That’s… amazing,” is all Alcippe can say.

“May I ask, Princess,” begins Marsilio, “What struck you as strange about her?”

“I’m also curious,” adds Jachs.

“Well…” I pause to think and remember. What did I think was so off about her? She gave off an uncanny feeling, as if she were merely pretending to be normal. But where did that come from? Was that a magical sense or a physical one? Was it the fact she was perfectly groomed? No, that’s normal among high class creatures with professional help at home. “I think it was in the way she approached the topic,” I finally say, “She was engaged completely, but seemed to miss the whole point of friendship. Like, the way she spoke of it, she gave me the impression that she was only after what friendship could do for her, like it was a game to be won. Honestly, she reminded me of Cozy Glow.”

“Sorry, who?” Jachs interjects.

“Just a failed student of mine,” I say. The full story isn’t important here, “She was very nice, but was only using kindness as a tool. I didn’t call her out at the time because it’s very difficult to tell those inner thoughts, and you don’t want to go around everywhere accusing creatures of not being genuine.”

“Fascinating,” Marsilio comments. His vacant gaze makes me think he’s imagining the situation in his head.

I return my attention to the map, “So she managed to take over all of Griffonia and Zebrica in less than ten years? That’s impressive. I don’t understand though, isn’t this a problem more suited for the military? Why is it that you need me?”

Jachs sighs before replying, “The problem is, Princess, we’re losing, and losing bad. May I?” He gestures to the map.

“Of course,” I say, instinctively trying to levitate the map to him with my magic. At first, it’s ok, but then a lance of pain strikes somewhere deep in my horn, causing me to drop it. “Ow!” I exclaim, causing looks of concern to appear on the faces of the three changelings. “I got it,” I reassure them. Do I “got it” though? I take it gently, slowly increasing my magic from nothing just to get the minimum strength required to move the map. Thankfully, this time, there is no pain. This is going to take some getting used to.

Jachs takes the map into his own levitation as I push down the feeling of impotence. Here I am, the Element of Magic, barely able to lift a piece of paper. He gives it a once over before beginning to speak.

“This map is out of date,” he starts with, “Right now, we no longer control Nova Griffonia.” He points to the northeast of Equestria to what once was Stalliongrad. “Just over two weeks ago, we nuked all of the traversable land between pony and griffon territories. This small strip of land here,” he gestures at it, “is the only way to get through to the rest of Equus besides the arctic wastelands and the mountains, and it’s now an irradiated line of craters. It took most of our stockpile and they didn’t even slow down. 3 days later, Manehattan was lost to a naval invasion, and a majority of our army was encircled by forces squeezing from Manehattan pushing north and from Stalliongrad pushing south. About a week ago, we lost contact with them.”

Wow. A lot to unpack there. First and foremost, “What do you mean by nuke? Like nuclear?”

Jachs has a moment of realization, “Right, sorry, five years. Three years ago was the first successful detonation of a nuclear bomb. It was used on the Everfree Forest when it was rampaging out of control, but that’s another story.”

It was finally invented huh. I remember thinking back when Fluttershy was asked to be an ethics advisor for the project that I was hopeful about it. A weapon so terrible the Changelings would have to stop. It was just theoretical back then… Wait, what did he say it was used on?

“You dropped a nuclear bomb on the Everfree Forest?” I repeat it back to him. It sounds crazy.

“And it wasn’t enough,” he answers, “Thousands of troops, 24/7 bombing, chemical and fungal agents - it meant nothing to the forest. Zecora’s Resistance couldn’t be stopped, and the forest kept growing. We lost a big chunk of territory to it. It’s mostly calmed down now, but it overran Ponyville and the other surrounding cities.”

Ponyville… gone? All those memories, swallowed up by plundervines and timberwolves. I feel my sinuses clogging as a tear forms in my eye. Not now, Twilight. You need to focus. You can cry later. Think about something else. Anything else. I wipe the tear away and take a deep breath. Why did the forest grow out of control? Were the elements of harmony removed from the tree? Wait, this seems familiar, I’ve seen this before. This isn’t like when we had to return the elements, this is like what I saw in that alternate timeline when I was fighting with Starlight. I never asked Zecora in that timeline how she controlled the forest, but it does explain what’s happening now.

“Oh, I think I know what’s happening in the Everfree Forest. Don’t ask how,” I say, “I’ll just say time travel loop and leave it at that.”

Raised eyebrows all around. Should have expected that. Let’s move on before I have to tell my whole life story. I quickly follow up, “Why did you say ‘lost contact’? Don’t you mean ‘surrendered’?”

Jachs and Alcippe look at each other before Jachs turns back and answers, “No. You don’t surrender to Viira - it just doesn’t work.” He thinks about how to word his next sentence before continuing, “She has formidable mind control powers. We theorize she travels to near the front lines before casting her spell, which then causes everyling in the vicinity to switch sides to her. We’ve been calling it a PSI emission. It means that whenever we think we’re making progress defensively, she comes in and turns our soldiers. Shields are helpful, but there are not a lot of changelings who can cast them. When I say we’ve lost contact, I mean every changeling in the encircled armies was either killed or turned.”

Ah, I can see how that would be difficult to counter. You would have to develop a counterspell, but you could never get close enough to the spell to observe it without getting caught in it yourself. That’s… scary. I guess it explains how she took over the rest of the world.

He continues, “Because of this, every soldier has standing orders to never surrender and fight to the last changeling. We lost two thirds of our mobilized creatures in that encirclement. That’s when I knew we had no choice but to get you out. I don't care what Chrysalis thinks; you’re our last hope.”

Me, the last hope? I joked about it earlier, but this sounds… terrible. I look down at myself. My fur is off color and patchy, I can count my ribs visually, I’m probably missing half the feathers in my wings, and I can barely do magic because there’s a steel rod drilled into my horn. A rod in my horn. I’m the secret weapon? Oh Celestia. No pressure Twilight. My breathing quickens.

Alcippe notices, “Sorry to put you on the spot like this Princess, but will you help us?”

What am I going to do, say no? The fate of the Changelings and Equestria, no the world is on the line. Some survival instinct kicks in and I’m filled with energy, but my body is too atrophied to make use of it. I’m able to take a deep breath. I look around. Something’s missing. Marsilio levitates a glass of water over. That’s what I needed, but I was expecting… something else? I gingerly take hold of the water in my levitation, “Thank you.” I gulp it down.

Spike. I was looking for Spike. He’s always been a constant in these situations though almost my entire life. Not having him here… the emotions I’ve been suppressing return.

Jachs sees this and begins to speak, “I understand you’ve had a long day, Princess. I know we’re asking a lot of you right now, but we both know this wouldn’t be happening if we thought there was any other way. We’ll… give you some time alone for now, but we’ll be back tomorrow - we can’t wait forever.”

I’m able to blink back my tears, but only just. “Thank you,” I tell the three, “I will help, but I’ll feel better once I make a plan.”

Oh Celestia, how I’ve missed solid food. I’m not supposed to eat a lot while my stomach gets used to being used again, but having not tasted anything in five years, the temptation is significant. That small bit of hay I was given was probably the best tasting thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. The three members of the “Canterlot Commissariat” as they are called are back, alongside another changeling who introduced himself as Finicus. He’s apparently an industrialist. All four of them want to know my plan to save the world.

“I can’t say I know a lot about Viira or how to defeat her,” I begin, “but I do know I’m going to need my friends.”

Jachs pulls out a set of manila folders, “Our intelligence says the six bearers of the elements of harmony alongside the artifacts themselves are required for the magical phenomenon we’re looking for to manifest.” He levitates the folders towards me, “Here’s all the information I could get VOPS to give me.”

Maybe it’s just the high of being free, but I’m feeling much better today, and I’m able to riffle through the information in the folders. Applejack - currently accounted for with the rest of the Ponyville remnants at a new Sweet Apple Acres just outside the Everfree’s expanded borders. Fluttershy - last seen 3 years ago during the Everfree Forest campaign. Pinkie Pie - last seen 3 years ago during the Everfree Forest campaign. Rainbow Dash - last seen two years ago in Marechester with the resistance. Rarity - currently accounted for in Manehattan. I check the date on Rarity’s file - last month, so that could be wrong given Jachs said Manehattan fell to Viirad just recently.

I look for any other files that could have information on my other friends, but it’s just these five, “Sorry Jachs, but do you know what happened to my other friends?”

“I only have these dossiers, but we’d be happy to tell you what we know if we know about them,” he offers.

“My pupil,” I start, “Starlight Glimmer. Do you know what happened to her after the war?”

Jachs and Alcippe give each other a knowing look, “You bet we do,” Jachs says, “She and a mare named Trixie Lulamoon have been spearheading the resistance. She’s, uh, been our main target for years.”

They look unsure. I can see how this would be a bit awkward to tell me. Their whole purpose here in Canterlot is to reduce resistance, and that includes hunting down leaders like Starlight. War makes strange bedfellows as they say, and I’m the fellow in bed right now. Well, I’m extremely proud, but this conversation would probably be very sensitive, so I move on.

“How about Sunset Shimmer, or Spike?” I ask instead.

All four look stumped. “Sorry, haven’t heard of them,” Alcippe finally says.

Ok then, so that’s not bad news per se. I asked Sunset to return from the mirror world to serve as a general, so she could have gone back and stayed under the radar and avoided a war tribunal. That or she was minor enough to just never reach the public consciousness and is in a prison somewhere. I hope for the former, but I can’t put aside the possibility of the latter. As for Spike, I told him to run the day I surrendered. Maybe he’s in the Dragon Isles, but maybe I shouldn’t hope for that seeing as yesterday’s map marked that in Viira’s red.

“What about Celestia and Luna?” This is one I’m curious about.

Jachs thinks for a second, “Well, they initially fled to New Mareland in Griffonia, but since Wingbardy conquered them and Viirad conquered Wingbardy, I don’t actually know where they are today.”

Finicus chimes in, “My friends think they’re hiding out in the Spa Islands. Remote enough to avoid our attention, but still Equestrian.”

“Well, wherever they are,” Jachs says, “they’re still raising the sun and moon every day.”

Just speculation then. At least this means they’re probably not under Viira’s spell, because I’m sure she would gloat about it. Let’s move on then. “Did Princess Cadence ever get out of Sombra’s prison?” I continue.

“No,” answers Jachs definitively, “The empress, she crowned herself Empress of Equus, keeps her in the same prison that Sombra kept her in. I hear she likes to take a monthly visit to gloat about revenge for the Humiliation of 1002.”

That’s disheartening. At least she’s alive, which is more than I can say for Shiny. Oh Shining Armor, you were taken from us too soon. Old grief from the war with Sombra comes back, but I’ve processed it by now.

I suddenly remember my niece, “Wait, what about Flurry Heart?”

“We don’t know,” says Jachs, “She disappeared after the war, but so did you. We found you by accident when Marsilio got access to a potent new form of love supposedly from Canterlot. I put that together with these mysterious requests for resources that reached my desk with no detail whatsoever about something in the caves below Canterlot. If I had to guess, something similar might be happening with Flurry Heart somewhere else that I don’t have command of. Sorry.”

How could the Changelings do that to a child? I guess I don’t need any more reasons to be opposed to Chrysalis, but regardless, we still need to save the world. However cruel and evil the Queendom is, it’s much better than everycreature in the world being Viira’s puppet.

“Ok then,” is all I can say, “back to the plan. I need to get all of my friends together, and then we need to find Viira, and use the elements of harmony to defeat her.”

“Getting your friends is going to be tough,” says Alcippe, “We could probably get Applejack no problem, but we’re going to need an exfil team to get Rarity from behind enemy lines.”

Jachs adds his own reasoning, “The three involved in the resistance are going to be the hardest though. Rainbow Dash we could maybe lure out, but we can’t even enter the Everfree Forest. We would need you for that.”

I suppose the Equestrian resistance wouldn’t want to kill their own Princess, but I’m in no condition to travel, let alone do the work needed to find them once we’re in their general location. If only we had some sort of all-powerful magical friend that could solve all our problems…

“Discord!” I shout suddenly.

The changelings look at each other, confused.

“You called?” The draconequus materializes in the room left of my bed, his serpentine body bending irregularly into his standing form. “You know, I noticed you didn’t ask about me when you were asking them about your friends. If I weren’t so evolved, I’d probably take it personally.”

The four changelings’ eyes are wide open. They’ve probably never seen a draconequus like Discord before except in a textbook.

“For that, I apologize,” I say.

Discord looks around the room before saying, “Well isn’t this quite the mix of canonicities. Apology accepted by the way. You should have asked for my help earlier.”

He’s got me there. I make my request, “I’m glad you’re here Discord. I’m not in any shape right now to find my friends. Could you help us locate them?”

He shrugs, “I could do that. I could just snap Viira out of existence too. I’m flattered by the request, but I don’t think you need me.”

“You don’t think I need you?” I say incredulously, “Have you seen me?”

“Yes, actually,” he says, “And do you know what I see? The protector of Equestria. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that you still have all the magic you need, and that you’re more capable than you think you are.”

“I appreciate the pep talk,” I actually do, “but I’m asking you now for help. Can you help us? I know Fluttershy would appreciate it too.”

“That’s true. Fine,” he concedes, “I’ll bring Fluttershy here, but you could have done that yourselves.” He snaps his fingers and a surprised-looking Fluttershy appears on the other side of my bed. She’s covered in tribal paint and natural detritus, but I still recognize the three pink butterflies on her flank.

“Discord?” she says, “Twilight!?”

“Remember girls, I believe in you!” Discord pulls up the fabric of reality like a curtain and walks through it, disappearing. The changelings haven’t said a word and are still collecting themselves.

“Fluttershy!” I exclaim. Or at least try to exclaim. It comes out quite hoarse - shouting for Discord seems to have pushed my voice to its limits for now. “It’s so good to see you again!”

“Oh my goodness,” she says, bounding over, “What happened to you?”

Ooof, ouch, maybe not so tight. I hug back to the best of my ability. I can’t blame her for hugging so tightly. If I were in her horseshoes, I would definitely be squeezing as tight as I could. You have to - what if I disappear again, this time forever?

She releases me and looks suspiciously at the changelings in the room. I guess they knew better than to interrupt this moment.

“Wait, where am I, and who are they?” she asks me, referring to the changelings. She looks like she suddenly realizes something when she says, “How do I know you’re not a changeling too?”

“You saw Discord, right?” I ask her to recall, “He’s kind of impossible to imitate.” A look of relief crosses over her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she says before turning to face the changelings,” to all of you. I’m sure you were working very hard to help Twilight. It’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Jachs”, he introduces, “This is my second-in-command Alcippe, and these two are Marsilio and Finicus.” The two of them give her a nod. “Honestly, we’re just very surprised at what just happened. I, uh, well, it’s not every day you see the Lord of Chaos.”

“Jachs,” Fluttershy dwells on the name, recognizing it, “I’ve heard you’re the kindest of all the regional governors of Equestria.”

“Er, probably, but I wish the others were kinder,” he replies, not really sure where to take the conversation, “Sorry, I haven’t planned what this conversation would be like. Let’s just call a truce for now - I know we were technically on opposite sides of the battlefield during the Everfree Crisis, but I’m willing to put that in the past to deal with the problem of Viira.”

Fluttershy looks sad, “War is terrible for all sides. I’m sorry for the changelings we killed. I accept your truce. I think I’ve heard of Viira. She’s trying to take over the world, right? Sorry, news is slow in the Everfree. Is she real?”

“Yes and yes,” I confirm, “And without the elements of harmony, she’s succeeding. We’re the last hope of the world. Viira’s army is going to reach us here in Canterlot soon, so we need to move fast.”

Fluttershy momentarily seems wary, unsure of whether working with changelings after years of guerilla warfare against them is the right choice, but the wariness quickly disappears. “I can’t excuse what Chrysalis has done, but right now, beating Viira is the right thing to do. I’m in, Twilight.”

“In what?” comes a familiar voice. I look over back to the left side of my bed to see - Pinkie Pie!?

“Pinkie Pie?” Fluttershy and I both say. She’s wearing the same tribal marks as Fluttershy. The same ones they wore in that alternate timeline that reveals if somecreature is a changeling or not.

“Of course it's me, silly,” she says, “What’s up? Oh my gosh - Twilight? Where have you been?”

“Where have I been?” How is she focusing on that right now? “How did you just appear here? It’s not scientifically possible!”

“Oh, I just followed Discord after I saw Fluttershy disappear,” she explains casually, as if it were as trivial as the weather, “But Twilight, where have you been the last five years? That’s five birthday parties you’ve missed!”

I - oh boy my body is too weak to get riled up. Just another Pinkie thing, I suppose. Not that I’m ungrateful for it, given the situation, but still - how?

“I was in a cocoon being drained for love to be researched,” I tell her, “Sorry I haven’t been around.” Pinkie deflates for a moment on the sad news, but bounces back quickly.

“That sounds really terrible, but I’m super glad you’re back!” she says, “So what’s the ‘I’m in’ for? Are you planning something big? A surprise party? Wait, no, let me guess -” She pulls out a pipe and a deerstalker hat from who knows where and makes an exaggerated thinking expression, “Hmmmm… I know! You’re gathering all the elements of harmony together so we can blast Viira with the magic of friendship! That’s so great! I’m in too!”

She got it? Was it obvious? Did she hear our conversation? My thoughts are racing now. This is just like that time in the mirror world when - hang on, get back to reality Twilight.

“How did you know?” I finally say.

She gives me a “well, duh” expression as she says, “Why else would I have a deerstalker hat? Obviously, we’re hunting a deer, and that’s Viira!”

What. I guess I know better than to question Pinkie at this point. She hops over to the changelings who are even more flabbergasted than I am.

“Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie, what’s your name?” she asks them

Jachs stares blankly for a second before gathering himself, finally managing to utter, “Uh, Jachs.”

Pinkie Pie suddenly puts the hat back on, procures a magnifying glass, and starts speaking in her detective voice, “And tell me Jachs, are you a spy?”

“These are friends, Pinkie. They helped free me from my prison,” I inform her.

The investigative apparatuses pop off her body and out of sight as she returns to her normal personality, “Well if Twilight says you changelings are good, then that’s good enough for me! Nice to meet you!” She starts shaking Jachs’ hoof.

“Uh, nice to meet you too?” Jachs gets out, still conversationally unsteady after the whiplash of Pinkie’s tone.

“Girls, let’s give them some time to take in what’s happened. I think they need some time to process,” I say, trying to give the changelings some breathing room. Alcippe looks grateful. The two of them return their attention to me. Oh, right, I’m the leader.

I share with them my plan, “We need to find Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Rarity. Once the six of us are together, we need to find Viira and confront her. I’m so glad you girls were able to get here. I’m not really in any state to travel. We will need to soon though.”

Fluttershy gives me a concerned look, her eyes evaluating my appearance properly for the first time, “Twilight, your horn…”

I give her a pained smile, “Yeah, it’s not great.”

“Twilight, this is a really serious injury! When did this happen?” Fluttershy says with worry and care in her voice.

“Oh, five years ago before they first put me in the pod,” I say, trying to minimize it. We have bigger fish to fry than my horn right now.

“Have you seen it?” she asks.

“I, uh,” huh, I suppose I haven’t. I can’t exactly look up and see my own horn, and I wasn’t ever really given beauty time in the pod.

Marsilio walks up, speaking in ponish, “I wanted to talk to you about your horn too, Princess. It’s… well, Fluttershy’s right. Just take a look.” He levitates a hand mirror over for me to see.

Ok, I knew it was bad, but now I know it looks bad too. Just off center to the right of my horn is the rod: a straight metallic cylinder that covers three fourths of the distance between the tip of my horn and the base. I guess the horn that used to be there was drilled out. At its top is a spherical ball of metal, meant for connecting to electrodes which must have been disconnected as I was removed from the cocoon. I can see why they’re worried. I didn’t know it protruded this much. I’m overcome by the urge to touch it, but I suppress it. In the past when I tried to get a feel for it in the pod, it always hurt, so I never did so for long. My mane isn’t doing that great either.

Marsilio gives his advice, “Princess, I invited a surgeon I trust to operate on you. I believe she can remove the rod and give your horn a chance to heal. With it in the way, there’s no way for us to use a healing spell.”

That’s really considerate. They keep saying that they only rescued me for the world’s sake, but I think they were also disgusted at how I was being kept. I really want to say yes, but I’m not going to jeopardize the fate of the world for it. I’ve had this for five years now, and it doesn’t hurt unless I touch it. What’s another week?

“Do we have the time? What are the risks?” I ask Marsilio. I probably should have only asked one question at a time, but what’s done is done.

Marsilio turns to the more military-minded changelings, “How long before Viira reaches Canterlot?”

They both do some thinking. “Two weeks?” offers Alcippe, “Based on how fast they’ve moved so far that seems reasonable.”

Jachs nods, “Three at the most. Seeing as they nuked Crystal City this morning, I expect Canterlot to also be a crater by then. I’ve already moved most of the administration out of the city center in anticipation of a nuclear strike on Canterlot.”

“Two weeks,” I contemplate the number, “How long will the surgery take?”

Marsilio answers, “Well, I planned to do X-rays and ultrasounds today. Given the secrecy of this whole thing, I’m going to have to develop the film myself, so it’ll probably take a few hours. I asked Mint Leaf, my surgeon friend, to come over tomorrow. Based on how the imagery comes out, the surgery could be done on the same day, but recovery time could vary from almost none to a few days based on how deep the rod is.”

He stops for a second, deep in thought. “Actually,” he says, “if we could get a healer in, you probably wouldn’t need a recovery time of more than a few hours. We’d have to find someone discreetly though…”

“Oooo, sneaky,” comments Pinkie Pie.

“But why does everything have to be a secret?” Fluttershy asks, “If the threat is so great, surely Chrysalis would be alright with all this.”

“That’s possible,” says Jachs, his voice full of doubt, “but from my experience her pride outweighs everything. I chose to do everything secretly to avoid having to confront her in the short term, but she’s going to find out eventually.”

Alcippe chips in, “The scientists at the labs probably already reported it to the Queen’s Guard, so she probably already knows. Hopefully the war is in a bad enough state that she doesn’t have the resources to go after us until after Viira is defeated.”

Finicus gives an unsure look, “I don’t know. We all know how vindictive she can be. I wouldn’t put it past her to divert resources from the war just to punish us.”

“Well, I think we all knew our careers were over the moment we committed to this,” Jachs says, “We just have to move as fast as possible to stay ahead of VOPS. I hope everycreature is ready to be on the road continuously for the next however long it takes us to find all the elements of harmony.”

There’s little reaction from the room. Everycreature knew what they signed up for.

“How about this,” Jachs proposes, “We’re going to need resources to find the other three elements. I’m going to gather up some troops to build us a little mini-unit that will be our travel entourage, so to speak. That’ll take me at least a day. In the meantime, you get your surgery. Once we’re both done, we go find the elements.”

Oh, he’s asking me for approval. “Before I say yes,” I turn to Marsilio, “How confident are you that the surgery will work? The rod isn’t killing me. If the fate of the world is at stake, I don’t want to risk it all on an optional surgery.”

“I have every confidence in Mint Leaf,” he replies, “Also, this will make everything else easier. You probably won’t have your full magical capabilities immediately, but it will be improved. Think of it like this: you are going to save the world but have no legs. I have surgery that will give you legs. Yes, you didn’t strictly need your legs to save the world, but it’s going to help immensely.”

That’s a good argument. I look back at Jachs, “Let’s do it.”

The room springs into action. Jachs leaves to organize his soldiers, Alcippe moves to talk to Pinkie and Fluttershy about finding them accommodations, and Finicus approaches Marsilio.

“By the way, Marsilio, I know a pretty good healer. I can have my secretary call him up if you want,” Finicus says.

“Do it”, comes the reply. Finicus leaves the room leaving me just with Marsilio as Alcippe leads Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie out as well. The changeling starts pushing over a large apparatus that I recognize as an X-ray machine. He moves to the head of the bed and pushes it away from the wall a bit - the X-ray gun is too wide to get a good view of my head while the bed is still against the wall.

Marsilio then starts hanging a piece of metal with X-ray film on it onto a wheeled stand using clips. “Sorry for the improvised setup,” he apologies, “Given the circumstances, it’s the best I could put together.”

I smile at him. “It’s quite alright.” I feel a little bad actually. These changelings are risking everything for me, and all I can offer right now is sitting still for an X-ray. Marsilio takes a brisk pace back to the X-ray machine, aligning it with my head in profile.

“Just stay still, Princess,” he says, aligning his setup.

At the very least, I can do that. The whir of the X-ray machine’s vibration backdrops my thoughts. I do feel a little helpless. I wish I could do more. I guess that’s the purpose of this surgery is so that I can do more. More than anything though, I feel grateful. We all have moments when we need the help of others, and this is one of those for me. I was in the position to help for so long, I forgot a little what it meant to truly be incapable. That’s not exactly true, I guess. If anything, I was in the cocoon for much of that time and I definitely could have used some help then. I don’t know, maybe because it made me there was no way to seek help which made me feel less helpless. Maybe there’s a friendship lesson there -

The click of the X-ray machine’s switch again signaling its completion startles me from my thoughts. Marsilio takes the film and stows it safely away. He starts wheeling over another large machine.

“Thanks, Princess,” he begins, “I’ll get to developing those soon, but I want to take a look in ultrasound first.”

“I think I read a paper about imaging with ultrasound,” I recall, “Is it widely used now?”

“Not widely. I grabbed this baby from my lab,” Marsilio shares proudly, “This is a brand-new B-mode ultrasound machine. I can get a two-dimensional image of the inside of your head and it will show up on this screen here.” He points to a small screen on the machine. “Before I start though, I gotta rub some gel on your head, if you don’t mind. It helps the soundwaves.”

“Whatever you need, doctor,” I tell him.

He finishes up with the gel and grabs the transducer (I believe that’s what it’s called) into his levitation. He realizes he forgot something and places it back down.

“Sorry, Princess, please excuse me for a second,” he says as he leaves the room.

The door closes with a thunk. All alone again. I wonder if there will be any long-term psychological problems from living in isolation in a cocoon for so long. The gel kind of feels like the same liquid I was in, and that didn’t trigger anything. I’m alone now and was alone last night and I haven’t felt anything yet. Maybe it’s the fact I know they’ll be back. Hopefully it means I weathered the experience well.

The door opens, “Just had to grab a camera. I left it in another room because of the X-ray machine - wouldn’t want to accidentally develop the film. I wanted to make sure Mint got to see these ultrasound images too.” Marsilio sets the camera down and picks up the transducer again, “Where were we?”

He places the stick-like device on my head. I know ultrasound is outside the hearing range of most creatures, but, I don’t know, I expected to feel something. Instead, it’s just the feeling of being poked with a stick. Marsilio fiddles with the settings, sometimes moving the transducer around to get a better image. At least, that’s what I think he’s moving it for.

“How’s it look?” I can’t resist asking.

“Well…”, he starts. That’s never good. “It’s not the worst case scenario, but it definitely isn’t the best. If I’m seeing this right, the rod is embedded past the base of your horn where your keratinocytes are, which means there will be non-trivial healing involved after it is removed.”

“It didn’t come out after five years, so that makes sense,” I say,” What’s the worst case?”

“The worst case is that it extends even further past your skull and into your cranium. I don’t see any evidence of that here, but I’d want to see your X-rays before saying that definitively,” he explains. He levitates the camera and snaps a few photos before adjusting the settings on the machine and taking a few more.

With the photos he needs, Marsilio begins wiping the gel off and putting the equipment away. “Thank you,” I tell him. He blushes a little - at least that’s what I think he’s doing under the chitin.

“I swore an oath to do no harm,” he says, “At least with this, I know I’m not violating it. Sometimes, well, my research is in love harvesting, so… yeah.” He finishes cleaning up and is about to leave. “So, I’m just going to get these developed, do you…” he trails off.

“I’ll be ok,” I say. As he leaves, I wonder about the truth of those words. I hope they’re true.

The operating table is cold. I’m not on bare metal, but I didn’t realize how comfortable my bed was in comparison until I was moved onto the table. You’d think I would have realized the discomfort during my rescue, but I guess my mind was focused elsewhere - rightfully so. It doesn’t help that I’m so skinny now. I can feel the outline of my bones on the table in a way I never did before.

The healer that Finicus mentioned yesterday, who I learned is named Calyx, is helping Dr. Leaf strap my head in. Once I’m secured, they adjust the table into reverse Trendelengriff position, forming a 15-degree line off the horizontal with my head up top. I’m a little nervous, so Fluttershy volunteered to hold my hoof during the procedure. I can’t see her with my head strapped in now, but I can feel her hoof on mine.

“Twilight,” Fluttershy says with concern, “Do you think we should get a farrier? I’m worried you won’t be able to walk.”

A farrier? She has a point; I could use some professional hoof care. My hooves are very overgrown from going unused for five years. If I had the strength to walk, just standing would probably be very uncomfortable given the awkward shape. One problem at a time, I suppose.

“Maybe if we have time,” I respond, “I don’t think I have the muscle strength to walk right now, but if I’m going to walk, I’m going to need my hooves trimmed by somepony eventually.”

“Maybe I can trim them for you,” Fluttershy offers, “I don’t have the tools, but I’ll be sure to talk to Jachs about it later, though.”

“Thank you, Fluttershy.”

“Alright, Princess, we’re ready to begin,” says Dr. Leaf, “I’m going to start by injecting some Lidocaine.”

“No general anesthesia?” I ask.

“I saw the readings Marsilio gave me,” she explains, “With your health as poor as it is and without an anesthesiology consult, I don’t feel confident knocking you out. We can’t risk you not waking up again.”

“I understand, doctor. Sorry to make you rush everything,” I say.

“There’s no need for an apology, Princess,” says the unicorn, “I’m just glad to be of service.” I see her levitate something just out of vision. “This is going to go in the back of your head. That should numb you enough so that I can insert the May Field clamp to secure your skull fully. The straps are ok, but we’re going to need to exert a lot of pressure to get the rod out. This clamp has three pins we’ll insert in 3 different parts of your skull.”

“When the procedure is finished, I’ll heal the hole it leaves, so don’t you worry,” Calyx adds. I feel the needle enter the back of my head around the exact opposite point of my horn. The dull ache is like after getting a flu shot. Fluttershy grips me slightly tighter. I can’t tell exactly what caused her to do so, but I see parts of the clamp in my peripheral vision. Maybe it looks scary. I have no idea what a May Field clamp looks like, but I do know that Dr. Leaf said it will be inserted into my skull, so I would imagine that it will be quite intrusive.

My mind wanders, theorizing various horrifying ways the clamp could work. I wonder if it's good or bad that I can’t see it. I can see Calyx and Dr. Leaf levitating various metal shapes around my head, perhaps to position myself and the clamp properly. I have no idea what each is for individually, which only adds to my uncertainty. I squeeze Fluttershy’s hoof back.

I can hear an electric razor turn on. They shave the injection site before wiping it down, which I would assume is to disinfect it. Here we go.

“I’m going to start screwing the clamp in. You will feel some pressure, and maybe some pain. If you feel pain, we’ll add more Lidocaine for the other two clamp pins,” Dr Leaf says with deliberation. I start to feel said pressure as the first pin goes in. It’s alright so far -

"Urgh," I vocalize. I felt a moment of pain there, but it went away quickly enough. My grunt is vague enough for Dr. Leaf to continue. The pressure builds. I say pressure, but is it actually pain? I’m so focused on it that I don’t know if I could tell the line from where it switched from just a regular sensation to a painful one. Maybe I can convince myself this is not pain, just pressure, and I’ll feel mostly fine through the whole thing.

Ok, I can’t ignore it anymore. If there is a threshold where pressure becomes pain, I think I just crossed it. The throbbing ache sensation intensifies further. I give a little yelp to signify my pain.

“Is it starting to hurt?” Dr. Leaf asks.

“Yes,” I respond as calmly as I can. I’m trying to stay calm so I don’t accidentally move. Fluttershy gives my hoof a squeeze. Her presence is reassuring.

“Alright,” she acknowledges,” we’ll increase the dosage for the other two pins.”

Settling the other pins goes more smoothly. With the extra drugs, Dr. Leaf and Calyx are able to secure my head in place without it being too painful. I can still feel the pressure from all three points of contact, but it's more uncomfortable than painful.

“Let me explain what’s going to happen now,” says Dr. Leaf, “Your X-rays showed that the rod has a screw bottom, which means they used a drill to directly implant it into your horn. We’re going to attempt to screw it out. First, that means we’re going to saw off the circular electrode part off the top here, and then attach some more clamps to build some leverage. With the extra leverage, we should be able to twist the rod right out. It will hurt, but I’ll give you some more Lidocaine first.”

“Also,” Calyx adds, “Once we get the rod out, I’ll cast a healing spell on the bare flesh, which should help your recovery.”

“From what Marsilio showed me, the rod is in your skull, but did not penetrate it, so there should be no complications on that end,” Dr. Leaf finishes.

“I’m ready.”

I hear the whir of an electric drill as a familiar needle enters the base of my horn. It’s painful, but I’ve already felt it three times today. I can feel a faint vibration as the drill makes contact with the rod.

“Just drilling some pilot holes so we don’t have to saw through as much metal,” Dr. Leaf explains. Bits of metal shaving enter my vision, but given my head position, none are in danger of falling in my eyes. She drills a second hole. And then a third. I hear a different whirring sound - it must be the saw. All of these surgical instruments are electrified now; modern technology really is amazing.

The grinding of the saw on the rod vibrates my head. It’s a bit stronger than the drill. There’s no pop when the saw sound stops, so I can only assume the ball cap was levitated away.

It’s hard for me to tell what’s happening now. I hear the drill occasionally, and I get some glimpses of Dr. Leaf and Calyx moving around, but I can only speculate exactly how they are building a jig to twist the rod out. Then I hear it. A slow tone rising in pitch overpowering everything else. It’s an air raid siren.

I hear Fluttershy’s voice speak over the distant but persistent sound of the siren’s wail, “Um, is that something we need to be worried about?”

Silence. Then Dr. Leaf speaks, “I don’t think so. They’ve been getting more common these last few weeks, but the chances of them hitting any particular place is low.”

“We are in a hospital though,” Calyx counters, “In terms of military targets, well… I know it’s not technically a military target, but I’m sure you’ve read those stories of hospitals being struck.”

“That’s true,” she concedes, “I think the more likely situation is they hit a power station and our lights go out. We have a backup generator for that though. Princess, if you’re comfortable, I’d like to continue.”

“Is there a risk this is a nuclear attack?” I ask.

“Actually, I don’t think so,” says Dr. Leaf, “I’ve been treating a lot of patients for radiation burns recently, and some mentioned that the nuclear explosions seemed to come out of nowhere, no planes in the sky or anything.”

“I’ve heard the same from mine,” adds Calyx.

My question probably wasn’t even relevant. If a nuclear explosion is coming, we’re all dead anyways. Dr. Leaf and Calyx don’t know of my plan to defeat Viira, just that they were required urgently for a surgery. I don’t think Viira knows I’m around again, so this is probably not directly targeted at me. I’d also rather not have to get the clamp done over again tomorrow… Hmmm…

“Go ahead, doctor,” I decide.

“In that case, get ready for some pain, ok? Just keep as still as you can,” she instructs.

I take a deep breath. Nothing... Nothing… Nothing… Fire erupts at the base of my horn. I tense my muscles. Fluttershy reacts to my sudden change in posture as I feel a second hoof on mine. It feels like a friction burn, but somehow inside me. Each time they stop twisting to regrip with their telekinesis and go again, the burning feeling dulls, but the relief is just until they go again.

I grit my teeth. The pain is constant now. The rod must be out of my skull and just in the horn now. The vibration of each twist causes the newly exposed wound inside me to flare in pain. I squeeze harder on Fluttershy’s hooves. Just a little longer… I think I heard something, was that the rod breaking free? I can’t focus on it - my mind is too occupied by the pain. Wait, Dr. Leaf is talking.

“It’s out. I’m going to remove the scar tissue around it so Calyx can heal you.”

I whimper in response. The pain is both sharp and dull. I can’t tell if Dr. Leaf is cutting or what, but the pain is constant. Just a little longer, Twilight. Don’t move… Don’t move… I have to release the tension in my muscles as they are too weak to keep holding on. My muscles burn from the biggest exertion they have had in five years. I spend just as much energy resisting the urge to tense or thrash as I did while tensing.

The burning sensation is fading away. Is it done? Is it over? Slowly, the sharp pain dies down, and I can finally relax the hoof Fluttershy is holding on to. Her constant presence reassures me everything is fine. If it wasn’t, she’d speak up. As the dull pain begins to come down as well, I take my first regular breath in a minute.

“Done,” says Calyx, “Clamp?”

“Removing now,” Dr. Leaf responds.

The pressure of one of the pins fades away. Then the same on another, and then the last one. The pain each removal causes is quickly abated by Calyx’s healing. I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear the straps get undone, and I’m finally free to move my head. Oof, I’m a bit tired. I can move now, but I don’t really want to.

“Everything went well!” Dr. Leaf happily reports, “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” I reply, “But glad. Can I have a mirror?”

“Of course,” he says before levitating a hand mirror in front of me. My horn looks… almost normal. There’s a hole where the rod was before, but if I covered it with something, no one would know without looking very closely. I turn my head slightly to see where the clamp pins made contact. I’m surprised - no visible marks? I don’t even see where they shaved my fur.

“No marks where the clamp was?” I say with an inquisitive tone.

“Nope!” Calyx reports. He sounds… tired. “Made sure to heal you the best I could. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need to lie down after using that much magic.”

I feel extremely lucky. Getting a surgery with both a surgeon and a healer is quite the luxury. I know I’m a Princess, but my mind goes to those who can’t afford this level of care. The door to the surgical suite opens, revealing Pinkie Pie with a wheelchair.

“Congratulations on a successful surgery, Twilight!” she yells.

“But, how did you know it was successful?” I ask.

“Itchy back - that means it’s my lucky day!” she explains, “What could be more lucky than the friend I haven’t been able to see for five years having a successful surgery? I also brought you some cake!”

She pulls a cake out of nowhere. Never change, Pinkie. With the help of my friends, I’m able to shift into the wheelchair. Fluttershy feeds me a bite of the cake. Delicious. I’d probably say that about any solid food, but that doesn’t make it not delicious. I won’t be walking for now, but I should be able to do some magic again. Pinkie wheels me out of the surgical suite and through the hospital. Each corridor we pass is guarded by soldiers assigned by Jachs to keep my presence a secret. It must have taken the work of fifty ponies and changelings just to get me here, all so I could get to the operating room in Dr. Leaf’s hospital.

We eventually reach the garage where a line of trucks greets us. I guess this is going to be a common occurrence going forward. Marsilio is waiting for us, and he comes over to see my condition.

“Looks like the surgery went well?” he asks hopefully.

“It did. Your friend was all you made her out to be,” I respond.

“Yeah, Mint’s the best. Did she give you any advice about regaining muscle strength?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” I say. I hope I didn’t miss anything.

“No problem,” he buzzes, “Here’s a list of muscle exercises I prepared for you that should be able to help you get back on your feet.” He levitates a packet of paper into my lap. “Er, don’t mind the torn ends, I ripped these out of one of my old textbooks.”

While I would normally object to this kind of book abuse, I suppose I can excuse it this time. As Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie operate the lift to get me into the truck, I take a look through the packet. Stretching, range of motion exercises, resistance training… Ok, that seems doable. I’ll just have to keep pushing until I can walk again.

Marsilio helps me from my wheelchair onto the truck’s bench, and takes a glance at the page I’ve flipped to, “Oh, uh, ignore the part about massage for now. We’re probably going to be pretty occupied for these next few weeks, so it can wait until after defeating Viira.”

After defeating Viira. He seems to realize the magnitude of what he said. “Well, assuming Chrysalis doesn’t have us all killed,” he adds. What will happen after? Will Chrysalis just let me and my friends walk free? Not that I can walk, but the point stands. What about Jachs and his friends? I can’t see Chrysalis offering lenience of any kind. I’m once again struck by the sacrifice these changelings are making by bringing me and my friends together.

The truck starts moving. “Are we headed back to the castle?” I ask.

“Actually,” he starts, “Jachs, well really Alcippe, already finished organizing a unit of soldiers for our travels. He thought he could get a head start on getting the elements together. First on the list is the easiest to find - Applejack.”

“Does that mean -” I say before Marsilio finishes my sentence.

“Yep, we’re headed to Sweet Apple Acres.”

Author's Note

Surprise! Remember when I said this would be the last chapter? Yeah, this is going to be longer that I thought. I figured I'd upload what I have first as to not make y'all wait however long it takes for me to finish the whole last "chapter". It's probably going to be like 20% of the whole thing at this rate, but whatever.

Quick rundown if you haven't played Pax Chrysalia:

Jachs, Alcippe, Marsilio, Second Wind, and Finicus are from the Pax Chrysalia storyline when you play the Changeling Lands and beat Equestria. There is a very big event in that plotline where they find Twilight in the caves underneath Canterlot, so I figured they would be in the best position to try and save the world. They're relatively nice for changelings, and you can get a "good" end for them where ponies aren't treated as badly. This is not the timeline where that happened. All the events they reference, however, are things that happen in the Pax Chrysalia path.

Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie appear as generals for Zecora's Resistance in the Pax Chrysalia plot just like in the alternate timeline of the show, so that is where they are here. The locations of the other members of the mane 6 are also taken from the Pax Chrysalia and Manehattan Protectorate events.

I've made a couple allusions to Grogar, but in this timeline, he and Tambelon did not return.

Equestria Girls may or may not be canon in the mainline show, but it is canon in Equestria at War - see Sunset and the Polaria Girls in the Northern Protectorate route.

I learned that horses do not menstruate and have estrus cycles instead. I figured they would be interrupted in the case of Twilight's poor health, so she wouldn't be able to track time with it either.

Had to look up a lot of stuff about surgery circa 1955, but it's all worth it to make the puns for the technical terms. Mayfield clamp to May Field clamp was the easiest - May Field already sounds like a pony name.

The End (part 2)

Hearing Jachs explain the overgrowth of the Everfree was one thing, but seeing it is another. Our convoy followed the Friendship Express train track at first, but the highway makes an abrupt end when it and the tracks are completely enveloped by the dense forest. We turned onto a dirt road tracing the edge of the Everfree instead and have been traveling along it for an hour or so. The truck’s design means I can’t see out the sides, but I can see out the front and the back. I only get glimpses of the Everfree on the edges where my sight isn’t blocked by the truck ahead or behind, but it’s enough to understand the damage.

We pass yet another set of abandoned buildings. “Why are all of these buildings abandoned?” I ask.

Marsilio responds, “A lot of ponies evacuated when the Everfree started running rampant. Most never returned because it’s still dangerous here on the periphery.” As if on cue, gunfire rings out from further ahead in the convoy. “Probably a timberwolf,” he says.

“How did the Everfree even grow this big?” I ask, this time directed at Fluttershy and Pinkie.

Pinkie answers first, “Zecora did this magicy ritual thing and made a really complicated brew. Then she dumped it into the ground, and suddenly everything went kablooey!”

Fluttershy looks less enthused, “It was necessary, but I’m not proud of it. After Equestria fell, nature was the only thing we could turn to to save us. We were finally able to defend ourselves, but it came at the cost of so many ponies’ homes, not to mention lives - ponies and changelings alike.”

I follow up my previous question, “So this wasn’t caused by removing the elements from the tree?”

Fluttershy shakes her head, “We didn’t touch the tree. Without the elements in the tree, Zecora wouldn’t have been able to control the forest, and it would have attacked us as much as it attacked the changelings.”

“Sorry to butt in,” Marsilio interrupts, “but are you referring to the magical artifacts? From what Jachs said before, you’ll need them to defeat Viira right? Are we going to have to make a trip inside the Everfree? It’s just… I’ve heard the stories.”

He raises an interesting point. Do we need the artifacts? My friends and I have faced a lot of threats to Equestria before, some with the elements and some without. The Storm King was defeated by convincing the Hippogriffs to intervene. No magical artifacts required. Nightmare Moon, on the other hoof, was the artifacts all the way. The Pony of Shadows, well, that was a bit of a hybrid deal. Sombra didn’t need the elements, but we used the Crystal Heart, another artifact. Discord, artifacts again. Well, we defeated him with the elements, but it was friendship that saved him.

“Uh, Princess?” comes Marsilio’s voice.

“Don’t interrupt her! She’s in her thinking mode!” Pinkie Pie exclaims before making an exaggerated shushing sound.

I smile apologetically, “Sorry. It’s a good question, Marsilio. One I’ve been asking myself as well. Just… give me a minute to think.”

He raises his hooves as if to say “mea culpa” and allows me to return to my thoughts. Where was I? Right, we froze Discord in stone using the elements, but one could argue that the hoof we extended in friendship later was more powerful than any magical artifact. Does that mean our path is just to do the same for Viira? I don’t think so. She’s more like Cozy Glow - unrepentant and unable to be negotiated with. Uegh, I still don’t know how such malice was concealed right under our noses… She and Viira are a special type of evil.

What is it that makes the elements of harmony special? Starswirl and the Pillars said the artifacts were grown from crystal seeds they planted. There’s nothing fundamentally special about them other than the values they represent. Without that, they’re just like any other magical artifact like Grogar’s bell or the Storm King’s staff. In the cases where we used them, we did just that - used them. When Celestia banished Luna a thousand years ago, did she embody all six elements? The elements are a tool like any other. Just because they chose us doesn’t make them special. It would be like if a cudgel chose us - it doesn’t make us special. Really, the mission to Hippogriffia was just like the one to defeat Nightmare Moon all those years ago: the use of friendship in order to achieve the correct force required to defeat our enemies.

I often say friendship is magic. When I say friendship is magic, I don’t mean friendship achieves magic. Friendship does achieve magic just like it achieves economic success or career success, but that’s not what I mean. What I mean is, friendship literally is magic. One event sticks out to me: Tirek. The tree of harmony gifted us the box, but it was us who offered the keys. The magic that we obtained was not given to us by the tree or the elements but came literally from our friendship. I know it didn’t come from anything else because Tirek absorbed all of our magic before that. Friendship is magic, and we don’t need the elements to tell us it is.

“No,” I state, “we don’t need the artifacts.”

“We don’t?” Pinkie Pie asks, confused, “But how are we going to rainbow laser Viira then?”

“Discord said something right before he teleported you to Canterlot, Fluttershy,” I start, “He said ‘you still have all the magic you need’. I think I understand what he meant now. The magic of friendship doesn’t just appear when we wear the necklaces and tiara, it’s in us right now.”

“But I don’t know how to use it,” Fluttershy replies, “I’ve never used magic like that before.”

“You have,” I reassure her, “When we defeated Tirek. The elements weren’t powering us then, our friendship was.”

She thinks for a second, and then speaks, “Well, if Discord said it like that, I trust him.”

A seamless tear in reality opens up in the truck, and Discord’s head pops out. “Thank you Fluttershy,” he says before turning to me,” You know, she’s always been the reasonable one - you could learn something. I’m just glad it didn’t take me constructing an alliance of past villains to attack Equestria for you to figure it out. It would have probably taken a premiere and a finale.”

“I don’t know,” Pinkie responds, “Sounds like they could be fun two-parters!”

I’m not even going to try to analyze any of that. He disappears as fast as he came, reality sealing up behind him. I am tempted to analyze how the tear in reality tracked along with our moving truck, but I don’t feel like giving myself a headache.

I’m suddenly struck by doubt too. I sounded so confident, but do I really believe we’ll just be able to use the magic like before? How do we even trigger it? I’m then reminded by my adventures in the mirror world where we triggered the magic of friendship via song in a world that didn’t even really have Equestrian magic. If that Fluttershy could do it, this one can too. If I did it then, I can now.

The convoy stops. We’re here. Fluttershy, Pinkie and Marsilio work together to get me on my wheelchair and onto the lift. As it hits the ground, he says, “I guess I don’t know either way if you need the artifacts or not, so I’ll take your word for it. I’m just glad we don’t need to go into the Everfree. Good luck!” He waves goodbye to the three of us as we make our way to the front of the convoy and towards Sweet Apple Acres.

I’m greeted by a familiar-looking set of buildings, though they clearly aren’t the same ones from the war. I visited a few times while the war was still going, and Applejack had industrialized her output to include a canning plant for sending apples to the front lines. I was saddened to see the farm become so much like it was in Starlight’s alternate timeline, but I understood it was necessary to increase output for the war effort. It looks like having to move everything to a new location after the Everfree overran everything has not slowed her down, because everything looks just as professional as it did before. I guess it has been three years since the Everfree - everypony had to move on eventually.

The dirt is not good for my wheelchair. The ride to the entrance is bumpy and uncomfortable, but it’s unavoidable as long as I can’t walk. We pull up to the main barn. Huh, if this is a totally new building, why does it still look like a converted barn? I guess Applejack wanted to keep the feel of her old home even in a new space. Like at the hospital, Jachs' mixed-race force stands by making sure no stray farmpony or factory worker can see me. I look up to the top of the building where the flag of the Changeling Queendom flies over our heads. It’s a reminder that though things may look similar, times have changed.

Fluttershy helps open the door for me, and I see Jachs sitting at the dining room table with Applejack. Applejack turns to look at the sound, her face transforming on realizing it's me.

She bounds forward from the table, “Twi, is that really you?”

“It is. Just a little worse for wear,” I respond, acknowledging how awful I look.

“Why, you look like you’ve been through a tornado! Jachs said you were bein’ experimented on, but he didn’t say you’d be in a wheelchair! And your hooves - they're all overgrown!” she exclaims, full of worry.

“I’m alive, and that’s what matters,” I say, trying to draw attention away from my health and appearance, “It’s really nice to see you again.”

“I -” Applejack starts to speak, but then decides against it. “Same,” she says instead, embracing me. After a lengthy hug, she pulls away, her gaze focused on the outline of my ribs through my fur. “Twilight, you are thin. You need to eat something!” She starts to head towards the kitchen.

“Wait, I can’t eat that much solid food yet!” I call out with what strength I can muster.

“What? Why?” She stops in her tracks and turns around with an expression like she just heard the greatest crime against ponykind.

“I only just started eating solid food 2 days ago after not eating for five years. If I eat too much now, my body won’t be able to take it - I would literally die,” I explain, “I appreciate the thought though. Honestly, an apple sounds great.”

“Hey,” she shoots back, “Just because I grow apples doesn’t mean that’s the only food I have!”

“Oh, did you have something else in mind?” I ask.

“Well… no, but I could have had,” she says sheepishly.

“Ooo, ooo, I’ll eat whatever apple-related thing you were going to give Twilight!” offers Pinkie.

“Help yourself Pinkie. It’s good to see you and Fluttershy too,” says AJ. Pinkie hops into the kitchen.

“Sorry for destroying the old Sweet Apple Acres,” Fluttershy says, her tone full of guilt, “I wish it wasn’t necessary.”

“Right, you and Pinkie went off to fight with Zecora,” Applejack recalls, “I’ve got a lot of mixed feelings on the matter, but I forgive you. I dunno, I was so happy to see the Changelings get the what-for for once that I wasn’t even mad at the beginning, but then I had to beg the bug at the development office for a loan, and I had to promise all of these extra changeling preferential treatment policies… “ She trails off. “Apologies for calling your kind bugs, Generalmajor.”

Jachs steps forward, “No, no, it’s actually refreshing to see you so… you again. I mean, you remember our first meeting, right?”

“I do.” She responds, not elaborating. I don’t know the context of what they are referring to, so I give them a confused expression.

“I shouldn’t speak for Applejack,” Jachs says, “I understand this can be a sensitive subject. If we have your support, I’ll prepare for our departure.”

“Twilight has my support, not you,” she clarifies, “You might be nicer than the others, governor, but we both know that this mission ain’t goin’ change nothing about the occupation.” She takes a deep breath, “I will save my home, but not because you asked.”

Her words clearly had an effect on Jachs. He responds with a simple “I understand” and leaves just us ponies in the room, the door closing behind him.

“What did he mean?” I ask Applejack, “About your first meeting?”

“Jachs came to visit once. He was curious about what happened to the elements of harmony, and I happen to live in his jurisdiction.” She pauses, clearly not wanting to continue.

“It’s alright, Applejack,” says Fluttershy, “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of for the sake of Equestria. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but we’re here to listen if you do.”

Applejack's face looks unsure. She sighs and continues, “I should tell y’all. You deserve to know.” Pinkie renters the room, hooves full of apples. She looks as if she’s about to speak but notices the somber expression on Applejack’s face and listens too.

“I know you two and Rainbow Dash all went to fight in the resistance, but I had the farm to take care of. It ain’t just me I’m worried about, it’s Big Mac, Granny, and Applebloom too. If I kept fighting, I’d be dooming the farm and the family,” Applejack explains, “So, I did what I had to to protect the Apple family: I collaborated. The changelings wanted a dumb, obedient pony, so that’s what they got. That’s what Jachs saw when he came to visit - the act I put on for all the high-ranking changeling officials I have to stay in the good graces of.”

I can tell this hurts for her to say. The Element of Honesty, forced to put on a false persona to protect her family. I may have been experimented on and tortured, but, in a way, that reinforced who I am. In some ways, this is much worse. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.

Fluttershy fills in for me, “Thank you for sharing, Applejack. No one could ask you to abandon your family to fight. There was no easy right answer.”

“I’ve come to terms with the decision I made,” Applejack says, “I’d do it again too. I may have had to sacrifice some of myself, but it keeps my family safe and fed, alongside all the other ponies who work here. I do feel a little guilty though when I see y’all were suffering for the cause while I was sittin’ pretty here.”

The room goes quiet as she finishes speaking. She tilts her hat down in an expression of sorrow. I feel like I’m supposed to have an answer for her - some kind of grandiose speech that can make everything better, but I can’t find the words. If I say Applejack did the right thing, I’m implicitly condemning Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie. If I say they did the right thing, I’m implicitly condemning Applejack. I see everypony’s faces, and I realize this is about more than who did the right thing when; it’s about the real ponies in front of us.

Fluttershy is the first to act. She draws Applejack into a hug. I want to join them, but I physically don’t have the strength to wheel over. Pinkie sees this and extends her hooves across the impossibly long distance between us, pulling us all together in a group embrace.

“I really am glad to see y’all,” Applejack reiterates.

Nopony speaks after that. Nopony needs to. I feel a tear from Fluttershy land on me. I don’t know exactly what happened in the Everfree, but from everyone’s reactions, a lot of changelings died. I suppose in war, death is a constant companion, but its effects are left only for those of us alive to feel them. Did I dodge a bullet by being trapped in a cocoon for five years and therefore avoid having to compromise my morals? No. I don’t think so. This isn’t a contest of who suffered the most or the least. We’ve all suffered, and all of it is worth care.

I don’t know how long we stood in silence, but when we pulled back, it felt like it ended too soon. I think we all needed that bit of support from each other. We’re stronger together. On that note, Applejack begins packing her bags for the journey.

“Can I tell my family you’re back?” she asks me.

“I think it would be best not to,” I advise, “We’re trying to keep my whereabouts secret.”

“Alright,” she says. She heaves on her saddlebags before turning towards the stairs and yelling, “Granny, I’m going to be gone for a while. Take care of the farm while I’m gone!”

“Now hold on an apple-pickin’ minute!” comes the reply from upstairs, “What are y’all thinking tryin’ to leave during plantin’ season without any warning? Does this have to do with all the soldiers everywhere? Let me tell you, if -”

Applejack cuts her off before she enters a spiel, “Yes Granny, but it ain’t what you think. Just trust me, it’s important!” She stops to consider her wording, “I’m leaving to save the world.” That quiets her down.

“Just be home soon, you hear?” Granny finally says.

“I’ll do my best,” Applejack affirms.

“Pack your bags folks, this is the last time we’ll be in the castle for a while. Maybe ever if Canterlot gets nuked,” Jachs says as the eight of us enter the conference room. I sense his words are directed to his fellow changelings, as, amongst us ponies, only Applejack has bags to pack. Well, they did give the rest of us a saddlebag to hold some essentials that they put inside, but we don’t really have anything else to put in them given how we each arrived here.

I wonder what happened to all of my things. I would assume the Castle of Friendship is just like the Castle of the Two Sisters now given the Everfree’s expansion - basically inaccessible due to the foliage. I hope somepony got the important memories and books out. Maybe Starlight had a chance to - wait, I’ve missed some of the conversation.

“- and so that leaves us with a choice,” Jachs concludes, “Do we go after Rainbow Dash or Rarity first? I’m open to ideas here.”

“Where is Rainbow Dash these days?” asks Applejack, “I know Rarity’s up in Manehattan, but I ain’t heard nothing from Rainbow since the war.”

Alcippe brings out the dossiers she showed me before, “Well, according to this VOPS dossier, she hasn’t been seen in a while. There’s extensive documentation here before an operation by a Hauptjäger Rasch, after which sightings become scarce.”

“Hauptjäger Rasch? Isn’t he the most decorated pilot in the Heer?” Finicus comments.

“Was. According to this, he passed away during this operation,” Alcippe corrects, “Anyways, since resistance has calmed in the last few years, it could be her resistance cell simply ran out of resources as time went on.”

“Or,” offers Marsilio, “She was injured during that operation and hasn’t been able to do as much.”

“All valid theories,” acknowledges Jachs, “but are there any concrete leads we can use?”

Alcippe scans through the rest of the dossier looking for information, “It appears she works with the Marechester cell of the resistance in Bluebell Fields, but there’s not much else here.”

“Marechester’s not too far,” I say, “Does anycreature know how we could get in contact with the resistance there?”

“The information in this dossier is compiled from agents who have infiltrated the resistance, " offers Alcippe, "but we don’t know them, and I doubt they’d be willing to help.”

“Yeah, working through VOPS is a no-go,” Jachs says, “They’re probably already organizing an operation to arrest the four of us, so we couldn’t go through official channels. Unofficially, well, I just don’t have good contacts there like I do in the army.”

Finicus looks at Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie, “You two were in the resistance, right? Do you know how we could contact them?”

“Oh silly, that’s a secret!” Pinkie answers, “We can’t just tell you our secret communication methods! I made a Pinkie promise! Besides, Zecora’s Resistance and Starlight’s are, like, totally separate, so I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.”

“Let’s table it for now then,” says Jachs, “What about Rarity?”

Alcippe responds, ”Manehattan’s under Viiradian occupation, so we’ll have to sneak past enemy lines. After that though, it should be pretty simple to just take a train to Manehattan. My only worry is getting back.”

I feel like the changelings are contributing a lot more than we the supposed heroes are. It makes sense though; they won the war - they have the resources.

“I think I might have a solution for getting back,” Jachs says, “I have a cousin in the navy who’s a submarine captain. She might be able to get a team out of Manehattan and back into friendly territory. It’ll take some time to organize though.”

“Who’s going to be on that team, though?” Fluttershy asks.

“Ideally, I think all of the elements should be on that team,” I propose, “In case there’s a problem getting out, all six of us would at least be together, and we could still face Viira if necessary.”

“Makes sense to me,” replies Jachs, thinking it through, “That means we’d have to get Rainbow Dash first, but organizing the submarine will take a good amount of time too, so that works out.”

“Then we’re back to how to find Rainbow Dash,” realizes Alcippe, “Any more ideas?”

“We just need to find something she can’t resist,” reasons Pinkie, “Like a race!”

“That’s… actually not a bad idea, Pinkie,” I say, a little surprised, “It might actually work, but it’s not a guarantee.”

“We could do a honeypot,” offers Alcippe, “Imagine this: the resistance gets wind of a limited-time treasure trove of resources the resistance could use that just happens to be in Marechester temporarily and with few guards. She’d have to come out of hiding.”

“No,” Jachs states firmly, “There’s too much risk. First of all, I don’t know how we’re going to tip off the resistance. Secondly, there’s no guarantee Rainbow Dash herself appears. We know she doesn’t appear as much anymore, so there is the possibility she sends someone else, in which case we wasted our time. Thirdly, this puts a lot of changeling lives at risk. Even if she does show, there’s a chance she’s too effective, especially given we won’t be trying to stop her. I could lose a lot of soldiers - our friends who already volunteered to risk their careers and lives for the sake of this plan. If we can’t catch her, their lives will have been lost for nothing.”

Alcippe goes over the three reasons in her head before responding, “Well, I have a solution for the first problem, but you’re right on the second and third.”

We need something that Rainbow Dash herself would come out for, huh? Pinkie’s idea of a race wasn’t bad, and if we did enough of these innocuous events, she’d have to go to one of them. Maybe a Daring Do fan meetup?

I turn to my friends. I’m about to ask them for things they know Rainbow cares about when I realize that the answer has been right there in front of me - just too close for me to see. Us. Rainbow is the element of loyalty - there’s no need to fake having gold or weapons when we have 4 much more valuable targets.

I vocalize this idea with an “I got it!”, which makes everycreature turn to face me. I think my strength is starting to return - that shout didn’t hurt. “We already have something that Rainbow Dash herself will appear for - us!” I say, gesturing towards the four of us ponies. Everycreature’s face becomes thoughtful as they each think through the idea themselves.

Applejack speaks first, “Are you sayin’ we use ourselves as bait?”

“Yes,” I confirm, “If we are able to communicate with the resistance, there’s a chance they won’t believe us if we tell the truth. However, I think they would believe it if a certain changeling governor was planning to execute four enemies of the Queendom. If I know Rainbow, the ponies around her are going to tell her to let someone else handle it, but she won’t take no for an answer.”

“That sounds juuust like her!” comments Pinkie, “But couldn’t I just throw a party? I’m sure she’d come!”

Jachs’ brow furrows, “Hmm… that… that might be a bridge too far. If the empress found out the elements were free right after learning I set Princess Twilight free, well, we’d all probably be branded as traitors immediately. At least with an unauthorized execution, she wouldn't see it as treason; I’ve hosted executions before, well not me personally, but I mean my administration has. That still leaves two outstanding problems; Alcippe, you said you had a potential solution for contacting the resistance?”

“We could run a story in the newspaper. The law obligates all print media to follow the directive of the Queen’s Tower, and you are the Empress’ representative in this region. Actually, you wouldn’t even have to make them print it, the story of four element bearers being executed sells papers by itself,” Alcippe elaborates.

“I suppose the Empress already knows we broke Twilight out, but I don’t really like this level of publicity on our activities,” Jachs says lukewarmly.

“I don’t think the public would bat an eye,” Finicus theorizes, “If anything, it makes it look to the Empress like we broke Twilight out to execute her.”

“The only problem with that,” Jachs counters, “Is that she knows me. Vaspier and Lacin too. Maybe they don’t know our ultimate plans, but they know that that would be very out of form for me. It would be highly suspicious.”

“If they already know we’re up to something, then that doesn’t change anything,” argues Alcippe.

“True,” Jachs admits, “but imagine this: you’re a media bug in Vesalipolis. Suddenly, you get a hundred calls about executing four element bearers, which you have no idea about. What do you do? Call the government offices of course. The Queen’s Tower is then stuck doing damage control about potential rogue officers and inconsistent policies. It’s not the unified front Empress Chrysalis wants, and it would force a quick response.”

“They’re already going to respond,” Finicus points out, “and probably soon. So, assuming they’re currently planning an operation, this doesn't change the timeline at all.”

“If Chrysalis already knows Twilight’s free, can't you just send her a message telling her our plan? It wouldn’t be an unauthorized execution, but an unauthorized secret operation instead. I'd reckon that'd reduce the ‘administrative chaos’ you're trying to avoid,” Applejack points out, "She may not approve, but that might keep her from tryin’ to kill us just yet.”

Jachs considers the proposal, “Hmm… I'm currently having everyling on the phones using delay tactics to stall questions from Vesalipolis about my activity. I could write a statement for them to pass on instead…”

“I think the question is how mad the Empress is,” Alcippe adds, "That determines if she just wants to talk, is sending VOPS to arrest you, or if she's told Lacin and the Queen's Guard to kill us. In the last case, communication is probably not going to do much, but in the case of the other two, it could get her to hold off temporarily.”

“We've already crossed our Folino River, so to speak,” says Marsilio,” It's time to commit to the plan. What was the point of saving Twilight if everything we do is going to be too escalatory?”

Jachs takes a moment before responding, “Maybe… That still leaves the problem of the resistance being… overzealous and killing a bunch of my soldiers who are only pretending to guard you.”

I respond, “It would have to be isolated, a form of execution that doesn’t require direct physical intervention - like hanging. You could set us up on a hillside just out of town or something and then back up far away. When Rainbow comes to rescue us, we can talk to her and then regroup once she gets the plan.” I know I’m talking about what is ultimately a stage play, but still, talking about your own execution is a little surreal.

“Let me just make sure we’re all on the same page,” Jachs says, “We go to Marechester, declare we’re executing the four of you while informing the Empress of our plans to defeat Viira, then we put up gallows somewhere remote and just leave you there. I guess then we’ll form a perimeter say a mile away to keep out any nosy citizens. Rainbow Dash appears, you talk to her, and then we all get together to get Rarity.”

“Sounds super cool!” says Pinkie.

“And you’re sure Rainbow Dash will show up personally?” Jachs asks.

“Positive,” I reply. If there’s one thing I’m sure about this plan, it’s that Rainbow Dash will try and save us if she believes we’re in danger. I look to my friends, and they give me the same confidence in their expressions.

“I can’t say I love it,” Jachs makes clear, “but I don’t have a better plan.”

“Compromise has always been the name of the game for us,” Alcippe says, “He used to say that all the time during the war and things always worked out then.”

“Heh,” Jachs laughs, “I guess so. Alcippe can requisition the train to Marechester. I, on the other hoof, have a cousin to call and a statement to write.”

As we arrive at Canterlot station, the convoy doesn’t stop. Instead, we head out past the main station towards the railyard. The line of trucks and tracked vehicles stops next to a set of flatbed train cars. There is the sound of tens of doors opening at once as soldiers from Jachs’ unit begin leaving their vehicles simultaneously.

Pinkie Pie starts wheeling me off the truck lift as all around us is a flurry of activity.

“Wow, they all seem to know what they're doing,” Pinkie says.

A changeling officer approaches us, “Your car is that one over there.” She points at a passenger car in the distance, “We got one just for you and your friends, Princess. Well, that and the equipment.” I thank her, and we begin wheeling towards the car.

“Wait a minute,” Applejack calls out at the officer, “Shouldn’t we be, y’know, hiding? This is a train station after all.”

The officer turns around, “This yard will be pretty secluded. These trains are miles long, so just don’t roam too far.”

As we approach the train car, I hear the rumble of diesel engines behind me. The trucks and armored vehicles are driving along the beds of the train cars behind us to get into position, lining up on each train car before the drivers get off and begin lashing the vehicle to the beds. During the war, changeling soldiers in armored vehicles would have been a threatening image, but in this particular moment with these particular changelings, I actually feel relieved they’re here.

At the foot of the train car, I see the first obstacle to our mission to get Rainbow Dash: the stairs into the car. The cargo lifts on the trucks have been getting me through so far, but no such luck here.

“We can lift the chair in,” offers Fluttershy, “Um, unless you want to try it yourself.”

Try it myself, huh? I haven’t tried walking yet, but I do feel stronger today… “I’ll try it,” I decide, “Just… be ready to catch me.”

Applejack and Pinkie Pie come up on each side of my wheelchair. Ok. It’s just walking Twilight, you’ve done it countless times before. Let’s just start with my right hoof. I look at my overgrown hoof. It’s curved back on itself, creating a curved bottom that arcs back up, which doesn’t leave me a good standing surface. Hoo boy. I lean forward and put my right hoof down. Immediately, my weight shifts forward, forcing me to put my left leg down too. Nope, I can’t hold this position. Applejack and Pinkie catch me, one of them on each side, each holding a shoulder. I feel a wobble as my curved hooves can’t find a grip on the flat steel first step. Woah, two wobbles. I feel Fluttershy floating above me gripping my abdomen, relieving some of the weight.

“We got you,” Fluttershy says, “Take your time.”

Ok. With three ponies helping support my weight, I am standing. I lift my right leg, causing a wobble in my left. The force it takes to stabilize my left hoof strains my muscles, and I can already feel muscle pain in my fetlock. I put my right leg down on the next step. Another wobble. Do I dare lift my left leg? If I’m going to make it up, I’m going to have to do this for all three steps, and then also move my back legs. Last chance to back out… Yeah, this isn’t happening.

“Ow… ok, I’m not going to make it up,” I say, wincing at the pain in my left leg, “You can put me back in the chair.” Immediately, Pinkie and Applejack put more strength in bearing my weight and the pain begins to fade. Fluttershy pulls my body back into the wheelchair from above. Whew. I’m lifted like on a sedan by the three of them working together and successfully reach the top of the stairs. Well, that’s another foe defeated by the power of friendship. That’s funny, I should say that.

“Another foe bested by the power of friendship!” I say, projecting a little confidence in face of my defeat. Pinkie laughs, then Applejack, and then Fluttershy. It’s infectious, and I join in. We enter the passenger car. Half of the car has had its seats removed, but the rest of them are still around. We get into a set of seats facing each other, with my friends helping me off my wheelchair. Fluttershy trots over to the crates with interest.

“Whatcha looking for Fluttershy?” Pinkie asks.

“There should be - aha!” She says excitedly, “Here it is!” She opens a crate and begins bringing over the contents to our seats. A hoof stand, a pair of nippers, and a hoof knife - farrier tools. I look at my hoof again. I could definitely use a trim, actually a lot more than a trim, especially given the difficulty I just had standing.

“I asked Jachs if he could help me get some farrier’s tools, and he said he would get them in time for us to leave Canterlot,” Fluttershy explains, “I found this note on a crate here.” She shows us the note.

“‘Miss Fluttershy, you should find what we discussed in this crate.’,” Applejack reads, “Well that’s mighty considerate of him.”

“I think he’s trying his best to be good,” Fluttershy says, “He may be a loyal servant of Chrysalis, but that doesn’t stop him from being kind.”

“You know what would be kind,” Applejack comments, “not invading Equestria.”

“Maybe he feels that if it wasn’t him, it would be someling worse,” defends Fluttershy, “Maybe he didn’t do as much as we wanted to prevent this all from happening, but he is helping us now to save the world, so that much, at least, is worth our gratitude.”

“I just don’t like relying on a changeling,” Applejack expresses, but doesn’t push any further.

I put my left hindleg onto the hoof stand Fluttershy has set up. She grips the nippers in her mouth before looking confused at my hoof. Yeah, I wouldn’t know where to start either.

“When this happened on the farm and we called in a farrier, he always started with a saw,” Applejack says, adding her input, “And I never saw nothing like this before.”

“The crate didn’t have a saw…” Fluttershy sadly informs us, “With just nippers and a knife, this is going to take a while, but I’m willing to do it for you, Twilight.”

Pinkie suddenly dashes off to the crates and sticks a hoof between two of them, looking for something. “Don’t worry, Fluttershy,” she shouts back to us, “I have saws stashed all over Equestria, in case of saw emergency.” Somehow, she pulls out a saw from between the crates before dashing back over and giving it to a surprised Fluttershy.

How did she do that? That can’t have always been there. This train was only loaded when Jachs’ unit commandeered it, which is when these crates must have been put in. When in Celestia’s name did she have the time to stash this saw? What else is she stashing? Where? When? I’m about to open my mouth when I realize asking will probably only lead to more questions. Just Pinkie being Pinkie.

“Hold still, Twilight,” Fluttershy says before picking up the saw in her mouth and cutting through my excess hoof. I get a little nervous, but after looking again it’s actually still pretty far from my coffin bone. I’m just not used to getting this much cut off. Nor is anypony I suspect. How many other ponies have been left to rot in a cocoon for years and lived to tell the tale?

As she saws through, I speculate on the insides of my hoof. Usually, misgrown and overgrown hoof is irregular or distorted and can be full of false sole, dirt, and infection, but a lot of that comes from contact with the ground. I was held in suspension, letting my hooves grow freely without the normal downwards pressure, creating a perfect curve on all four never seen in regular life. The insides are also probably perfectly uniform, with no blemishes given the lack of contact.

Fluttershy saws through, and the excess hoof falls to the ground with a thunk, leaving behind a still overgrown hoof but something that actually resembles something that should be at the end of a leg. She switches to nippers, gripping one end in her mouth and the other in a hoof as she clips off small bits of hoof to shape it into something good for standing on.

After a few layers of clipping, she puts down the nippers. “How’s my hoof looking?” I ask, curious.

“Actually, pretty clean,” she says, “Not like the animals I usually do this on.” I will definitely take that as a compliment. “I still can’t find your frog though. Maybe I should have sawn a bit closer to the bone,” she assesses.

She takes the hoof knife in her mouth and begins up and down carving motions in search of my frog. I try to imagine what it looks like as I can’t see the bottom of my hoof with it in the stand. No frog, huh. I visualize a normal hoof, just without the normal heart-shaped indent. That’s probably what it looks like right now, just with the whole thing being a bit longer given the overgrowth.

Fluttershy grabs the nippers again. “I think my sawing angle was a bit off, let me even things out a bit,” she explains before another set of clipping ensues. There’s a sudden lurch as the train begins to move, interrupting us for a moment.

“Off to Marechester,” I comment.

“And to Rainbow Dash!” adds Pinkie.

After a few more minutes of nipping and carving, Fluttershy brings out a file and begins smoothing everything out. From what I can tell, my hoof, at least this one, finally looks, well, like a hoof.

“There, all done!” She proclaims, a little weariness evident in her voice. I turn my hoof around to see the bottom. The upside-down heart shape greets me, one I realize I haven’t seen in five years. At last, a healthy hoof.

“Amazing work, Fluttershy!” I praise.

She smiles, “I’m not sure I can do that three more times, but I’m glad I could help.”

“I can take the next one,” helps Applejack, “I care for the hooves of our animals on the farm, so this should be no problem.”

She switches spots with Fluttershy as I switch to my other hindleg. Taking the saw, she also starts working. I’m so happy to be with my friends again. It isn’t just the fact that it would be very difficult to do this myself given the level of overgrowth, but seeing their willingness to help me just fills me with warm feelings and just so much gratitude. I can’t wait to be reunited with Rainbow and Rarity.

Applejack finishes off the next two hooves with Fluttershy taking the last one. Not only is there literal weight off my hooves now, but that’s another mark of my imprisonment gone. My mane, feathers, and fur will probably grow back ok after a few weeks of eating properly, and gaining back my weight probably won’t take too much time either. For the first time since being in the pod, I see an actual future, at least related to my physical recovery. Time will tell if I live that long.

For dinner, Applejack gives me half an apple, which is all my digestive system can take after my porridge, and we arrive in Marechester with Luna’s moon just rising. I’m once again helped into my wheelchair when we arrive at the stairs that bested me hours earlier. The girls get in position to lift me down, but I hold out a hoof.

“Wait,” I interrupt, “I want to try again.”

The girls look at each other, “Are you sure?” asks Fluttershy gently, “It seemed very painful for you before.”

I respond, “It was, but I actually have something to stand on now.” I use one hoof to point at another, showcasing my lack of overgrowth. “Besides, going down is easier than going up, right?”

“Okie doki loki, but we’re holding you the whole time, got it?” Pinkie conditions.

“I’ll need it,” I confirm, before beginning my lean forwards. I’m more ready this time, and land with both hooves. Whoa, that’s a world of difference now that I have a flat bottom to stand on. Sure, Applejack and Pinkie are supporting at least half my weight, but I feel like I could do this for a while.

Fluttershy moves my wheelchair to the bottom of the stairs and flutters back up with her front legs outstretched, ready to support me from the front. Let’s try just a standard walk. I start my hind left leg forward. Ok, no problem. Left front leg down the first step. The metal sounds as my hoof makes contact, and I move my right hind leg forward one step. Wow, it’s working. Finally, I move my front right leg onto the first step down to match my left leg. One successful cycle! It's a tight fit with all three of us on the stairs at the same time, but Pinkie and AJ are determined to help. As my body angles downwards to walk down the stairs, Fluttershy moves in to provide more support, cushioning any potential downward force due to gravity. I hear her affirming words, but I’m too busy focusing on the minutiae of my movements that the words themselves are lost to me.

This used to be so instinctual that when I actually have to use my mind to focus on exactly what body movements to make when walking, it feels almost like I don’t know how. Like, obviously, I know how to walk, but now that my conscious mind is totally focused on the task, the “right way” escapes me. It doesn’t help that my legs feel totally different now given how thin and weak they are now.

My feet make contact with the dirt as I hit the bottom of the stairs. It’s a familiar feeling, but one that feels foreign after not having experienced it for five years. I see the wheelchair in front of me. Even with the help of my friends, I can feel the exertion in my muscles. If Pinkie or Applejack let up their support even for a moment, that leg would probably immediately buckle. Instead of taking another step, I put my hoof down on the armrest of my wheelchair. Sensing my intention, Fluttershy stops supporting my weight from the front and gets behind the wheelchair to stop it from rolling away from the force of my weight on it. Deliberately, and with some help, I turn my body around and resume my sitting position. Sweet redemption.

“Woo!” I give a little cheer. My friends join in, their joyful faces buoying my spirits.

“Congratulations, Princess,” Jachs’ voice rings out from towards the front of the train. I didn’t see him disembark, but I suppose my mind was focused elsewhere. “It’s good to see you walking again, even if it's with assistance.”

“It sure feels good. Maybe I’ll be able to walk using a walker soon,” I speculate hopefully.

I hear the sound of trucks behind me. I initially want to look at the trucks being unlashed from the train, but the sound isn’t coming from that direction. The sound gets louder as those around me begin turning their heads as well. Thankfully, Fluttershy notices my wheelchair is still facing the train and rotates me around. Looks like 3 cars. The middle one is quite nice, while the other two are military vehicles. Someling important?

“One of your friends?” I ask Jachs.

“Not that I know of. This could be bad - shoot, they’ve seen us,” he says, starting to worry, “Uh… look imprisoned!” He grabs a couple nearby soldiers, “You two, guard the elements!” They get the message and are soon by our side, submachine guns hanging from their slings. The cars pull up parallel to this section of the train in front of us. The changelings in Jachs’ unit look wary as they continue unloading the vehicles. They don’t know what’s going on either - are they worried things could come to violence?

Armed changelings exit from the new vehicles, and one of them opens the door of the nice car to reveal an officer, who steps out and begins walking towards Jachs.

“Generalmajor!” he calls out, “My secretary told me you were coming to town, so I thought it would be best to greet you at the station. Oberstleutnant Ernst - we met at the officer’s party last year?”

“Ah… yes,” Jachs replies, seemingly remembering, “You’re in charge of the occupation here in Bluebell Fields, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, “Here to be of service. What brings you here to our fine slice of Her Majesty’s empire? I assume this has to do with them?” He cocks his head towards my friends and I. “Quite the prize, I’d imagine.”

“Indeed,” Jachs acknowledges, “I’ll only be here a couple days. We’re executing these four tomorrow evening. Actually, could you prepare a press statement about the matter to be published in the morning?”

“Of course, sir” comes the response, “May I ask though, why here?”

“Too many resistance sympathizers in Canterlot, as you might expect,” Jachs quickly fabricates, “Same reason for the lack of warning to the public, can’t risk any rebel activity.”

“Makes sense. Do you have a venue in mind? If too many prying eyes is the issue I would assume you would want it to be remote,” Ernst offers helpfully.

Jachs, sensing an opportunity, quickly says back “If you have a location, I’m all ears.”

“There’s this hill just outside the city proper that should suit your needs - I’ll have my folks send your folks the address. Welcome to Marechester!” He turns, but his gaze catches on us. I try to give him my most sincere pained look, which I hope my sickly countenance helps to amplify. “I must say, Generalmajor, you sure are confident. No hoofcuffs or restraints on the prisoners?”

“Prin-” Jachs catches himself, “Twilight Sparkle is in quite poor health, hence our need to get our political mileage out of her while she’s still alive. As for the others, well, this is their last day alive. I’m trying to show them some decency.”

“It seems your reputation is well earned, sir. As long as the job is done in the end, I suppose,” He says, continuing to look at the four of us, “I get it though, who knows what the Queen’s Guard must have done to her, huh? They really do just feel like a bunch of sadists sometimes.”

“Heh, true,” Jachs says as Ernst begins walking back to his car. He calls out, “Good to see you, Oberstleutnant!” I didn’t realize it, but everycreature around us had stopped their work to watch that conversation. I see Alcippe pop out from behind a stack of crates with a squad of changelings with their guns drawn - I think they were preparing for a firefight in case Ernst tried to stop us. With the cars pulling away, the soldiers resume their activities. Jachs gives a large exhale and turns back towards us.

“Wow, nice acting!” compliments Pinkie, “You totally had him fooled!”

Jachs sighs, “I guess, but it didn’t really feel like acting to me. That was just me letting loose a little. Sometimes I feel that if I didn’t have my conscience, I’d just be like that all the time. Does that make me evil?”

This sounds familiar. Then I remember I have two protégés who are reformed villains, and it all makes sense. “Our consciences are part of us too, Jachs, and yours won’t disappear as long as you don’t want it to,” I tell him.

“I will say,” Applejack comments, “you were very convincing. I almost believed you.”

“It’s my job, so it would probably be bad if I couldn’t act the part,” he says, “You know, I never asked to be governor of Canterlot. I just happened to be the one in charge of the garrison there when the war ended. That ended up meaning running things there and, after a while, Queen Chrysalis just gave me the title. I guess my point is, I’m feeling pretty out of my depth right now. Secret missions of dubious legality? Saving the world? That’s supposed to be above my pay grade.”

“I understand what you’re feeling. I felt the same when I first became a princess,” I share.

“Really?” he responds, surprised, “You always seemed so… larger than life.”

“I didn’t ask to be princess either. For me it was just one day where I had to save my friends. I never expected that Princess Celestia would come to me at the end and just give me wings. I didn’t know what my role really meant for at least a year,” I elaborate.

“So, if even you feel out of your depth, what hope is there for the rest of us?” Jachs says, pessimistically.

“I’m just a pony, I make mistakes from time to time,” I instinctively respond. That felt wrong - that was definitely the wrong thing to say. He needs some encouragement. I consider my words, “I think everycreature feels like an imposter sometimes. The vulnerability that comes from sharing it isn’t a bad thing, actually, it’s a good thing for friendship. Celestia, Chrysalis, I’m sure they have days where they feel like they don’t have the answers too. Maybe even Viira.”

“I doubt she does,” Jachs dismisses.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. She feels like one of those types to be sure of everything, even when she isn’t right. Heh, she could probably do with feeling a bit more out of her depth,” I reason, building off of Jachs’ point. He chuckles slightly at the thought.

“Well, I may have felt unworthy of being a princess, but if there’s anything we as a group have done, it’s save the world," I pivot, trying to inject some optimism back into the conversation.

“Nightmare Moon, Discord, Sombra, Tirek,” Applejack lists, “Heck, that ain’t even half of them.”

“Yeah!” seconds Pinkie, “King Meowmeow, the Dazzlings -” She catches herself, “Whoops, sorry! Wrong timeline.”

I have no idea who Pinkie is referencing, but Fluttershy steps in to speak, “Well, for me, I still always feel overwhelmed whenever we go on an adventure to save the world. But, somehow, when I’m with you all, it isn’t so bad.”

“The magic of friendship, huh,” Jachs says pensively, looking lost in thought. He says nothing for a few seconds. “Well, that’s that problem solved. I’m going to go on ahead and get the local garrison to provide us with lodgings. I’ll try to get you all somewhere private.” He looks around, searching for someling before his eyes land on Alcippe. “Alcippe!” he calls out, the changeling turning at the sound of his voice, “Escort the princess and her friends to the barracks - I’m going on ahead.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies. Approaching us, she gestures in the direction of the back of the train where the vehicles are around half unloaded from the train, “This way. We have a big day ahead of us, and not a lot of time to make preparations.”

Brr… It’s still chilly. We’re heading on hoof (or on wheel for me) to the cliffside where the mock execution is to take place. We left the barracks at 7am, so it’s still pretty early. I think I’m the only cold one though. Looking around, everycreature else seems to be just fine in the temperature. It must be my lack of fat. Being undernourished for five years had quite an impact on my figure, and I’m now sensing the practical issues that come with having zero natural insulation.

I look down at my copy of this morning's edition of the Marechester Gazette. Our article is on page 3: “Four Elements of Harmony to be Executed” reads the headline. Simple and unsensational, as was the intention. We want to minimize the potential for public action that could lead to spontaneous riots. The less attention on us, the better. How much a headline does, well, that’s up for debate. With less than a day’s warning though, there shouldn’t be too much interference - we just want the main star: Rainbow Dash.

Looking up, I see the changelings and ponies of Jachs’ unit hard at work constructing a gallows. The execution is scheduled for the afternoon, so we need to be ready long before then because we don’t know when Rainbow plans to rescue us. Knowing her, she’ll be out here as soon as she can, so we need to have our “trap” ready by then.

We arrive at a group of changelings tying knots in some rope with their levitation. Jachs addresses them, “Stabsgefreiter, are the hanging setups prepared?”

A changeling gets up to report, “Almost sir, Clypeus thinks he has an arrangement that will appear from afar like they are being hanged, but we want to test it first to make sure.”

“Anypony want to volunteer to be hanged first?” asks Jachs.

Who should it be? I look down at myself. I don’t know if I have enough muscle to support myself comfortably no matter how they distribute the weight. They’ll probably have to change the rig for me. It would be best to start with the pony least at risk of being hurt. Maybe Fluttershy since she could flap to ease the weight off in case it doesn’t work at first.

“Ooo, ooo! Pick me!” My train of thought is interrupted by Pinkie’s eager volunteering.

“Now why in tarnation would you want to do that?” Applejack expresses with disbelief.

Pinkie hops forward to where the test ropes are set up, “Sounds like it’ll be like a trapeze, and I love trapezes!”

“That settles that then,” Jachs says, “Stabsgefreiter, hang Miss Pie.”

Two changelings gather around her. There are two ropes hanging from a hastily constructed beam, ending in two loops. The first one is shorter and looks like a traditional noose while the second is longer and ends in a much larger loop. The changelings help Pinkie step into the larger of the two loops and put the noose over her head.

“Here goes nothing…” one mutters. He then tightens both ropes and begins turning a winch to lift her up. First its her front hooves leaving the ground, but once the winch lifts the rope to the point beyond where Pinkie can stand, her back hooves follow.

“Whee!” Pinkie exclaims as her back hooves lift off. From this angle, it’s pretty clear her weight is being held almost entirely by the rope now snugly caught in the nook between her front legs and torso, but I can imagine that, from the front or afar, nopony would be able to tell she wasn’t being hanged.

“Given the short notice and limited materials, I’ll give it a pass,” Jachs says.

“It just needs to be realistic enough that Rainbow doesn’t suspect a trap and that we’re not changelings in disguise,” I say, “We just need her close enough to talk.”

Is this setup good enough though? If I saw this, would I suspect anything? Well, without the knowledge that it’s fake, I probably wouldn’t question it. Eeeeh, Rainbow’s an experienced insurgent at this point, right? She should be on the lookout for signs that this could be a trap. She’s not unobservant; if she’s actively searching for things out of place, would the second rope trigger anything? I’m not so sure.

“Is there a thinner rope we could use to hold us up?” I ask the noose team, “I just want to make sure Rainbow doesn’t sniff out a trap and leave.”

One of the changelings shakes his head, “Sorry Princess, this standard-issue rope is all we have.”

“Um, could somecreature maybe go out and buy some thinner rope then?” Fluttershy asks, “Unless it’s too late, of course.”

Jachs is about to respond when a runner pulls up behind him, calling for his attention, “Generalmajor! The perimeter team is reporting that protesters are already showing up trying to get through!”

“What!?” he responds, “Already? It isn’t even 8am yet!” He suddenly has an epiphany, “Wait, this early in the day, already organized… they must be from the resistance!” He has another moment of realization. “If the resistance is here already…” he stops speaking and looks to the sky.

I hear shouting from Jachs’ soldiers all around. Lots of hooves start pointing upwards. I follow everycreature else’s gaze and see a rainbow streaking across the sky - she’s here. It’s too early, way too early.

“Everycreature listen up!” Jachs shouts, “We are officially improvising! Stop everything you’re doing and vacate the area and give the elements some privacy. Remember the rules of engagement: whatever happens, do NOT fire at Rainbow Dash.” He turns to face us. “Good luck!” he wishes us before turning around and rallying his forces to retreat.

The changelings and ponies still setting up the gallows ditch their tools where they stood and begin scrambling to leave. A deafening kaboom rings out directly over us as the tell-tale explosion of a sonic rainboom expands over our heads. Pieces of paper whoosh past us caught in Rainbow Dash’s wake as she passes us at supersonic speeds. I can feel my bones rattle in the shockwave. Where’d she go? There - looks like that was just the first pass - she’s turning, probably preparing to come around again. Pinkie is left swinging in the wind, but she looks like she’s having a good time.

Shouting from all sides fills my ears as Jachs and his soldiers attempt to leave as fast as possible. With the rules of engagement being to never shoot, nocreature is eager to stay and get picked off by the Wonderbolt ace.

Rainbow Dash returns. She must be going slower, because I can actually see her this time. Headed directly at us, her blue coat is unmistakable. She has a rifle in hand and is aiming in our direction. She - oh my - she has a metal wing!

Pinkie yelps. The rope on her neck falls loose as it snaps, leaving her to hang on only the rope around her torso. Was that a bullet? I didn’t hear anything. I hear the next shot though, and Pinkie gives another surprised sound as the second rope is shot through, sending her to the ground, which is thankfully only a foot below.

Rainbow passes over our heads again, but this time she pulls up, leaving her far above us. In an instant, she’s flying directly down on us and lands with tremendous force, kicking up a dust cloud.

“Twilight, Pinkie, Fluttershy, AJ!” Rainbow yells, “We’ve gotta get out of here before the bugs come back. That rainboom is probably only going to scare them for another minute or so. There’s a car waiting for us, but I can only fly one of you there at a time. Who’s first?”

This is all going way too fast. Rainbow takes that split second of hesitation to answer the question herself. She quickly looks at the four of us before turning to me.

“Twilight, you look like you need help. You’re up first,” she declares. She almost throws me on her back and takes to the skies with zero warning. I can hear the others shouting for Rainbow to stop, but they quickly fade as we move out of earshot.

“Wait! Rainbow! You need to stop and go back!” I shout to the best of my ability.

“Don’t worry Twi, I’ll get everypony else in a second,” she says back, misunderstanding my meaning.

“You don’t understand!” I try explaining. I didn’t get the chance to plan out what to say to her - how do I tell her what’s going on? “This isn’t a real execution!” I desperately yell.

“Heh, yeah, it’s a trap to lure me out? I figured.” she replies, not changing her heading, “Chill, I’m way too fast for them!”

“That’s not what I mean, Rainbow! What I mean is that the execution was my idea! We’re not in danger! You can slow down - woooahah!” Rainbow’s altitude suddenly drops, and she skids to a stop in the middle of a thicket. She sloughs me off her back and onto the ground. Ow.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you confessing you’re a changeling!?” She says with equal parts contempt and confusion.

“What? No!” I respond. I instinctively try to stand up, but I’m instead reminded why I need a wheelchair. “Listen, a changeling named Jachs rescued me from my prison. He needs us to defeat Viira for the sake of the world!”

“You’re working with a changeling? That’s exactly what a changeling would say. I’m not buying it,” She points her rifle at me, “Tell me something only the real Twilight would know.”

Uhhhhh… Something that only I would know? Something that Rainbow can verify…

“We… We once taught a lesson together at the Wonderbolts Academy. Remember Vapor Trail and Sky Stinger?” I recall.

Rainbow looks unamused, “Anypony could have looked that up. More personal!”

“Uh… You don’t like Pinkie Pie’s pies!” I blurt out.

Her demeanor changes and she drops her rifle, letting it hang free from its strap, “Wait, it is you? You’re working with… them?”

“It’s… a long story,” Ok, maybe it’s not that long, but it’s hard to come up with where to start right now.

Rainbow thinks for a second, “So that means the stories about Viira are true then, huh. I thought it was all changeling propaganda.”

“I know it all sounds crazy, but a few days ago, Jachs marched into the lab where I was being held and rescued me from the cocoon I was being experimented on in. He thinks the elements of harmony are the only chance the world has against Viira, and, from what I’ve heard, he’s right,” I sum up.

“And to think they’ve always thought their armies were so great,” Rainbow scoffs, “Still, do we have to defeat Viira? With the changeling army busy fighting the war, it meant we were finally starting to make some progress.”

I sigh, “I wish I could say doing this would somehow win Equestria’s freedom, but we’ll have to settle for not being mind controlled. At least for now.”

Rainbow groans, clearly not enthused at the thought of working with the occupation. “Fine, but for you - not for them.”

“Thank you, Rainbow,” I say, “Um, can you give me a lift back to my wheelchair? Five years in a cocoon wasn’t great for my muscle strength.”

“Five years!? Geez, no wonder you look so skinny,” Rainbow comments, “Alright, let’s get you back.”

Rainbow carefully puts me back on her back and begins flying back at a much more leisurely pace.

“You’re sure they won’t shoot us?” she questions.

“They won’t. The reason all the soldiers scattered when you did your sonic rainboom was because they’ve been ordered not to shoot you, even in self-defense.”

“Wow.”

As we reach the gallows, Fluttershy, AJ, and Pinkie wave at us. Rainbow lands right in front of my wheelchair, and the four of them work together to put me back in. Not being able to walk sucks.

“So, you all agreed to pretend to get executed just to get me to come?” Rainbow asks us.

“Yeah!” Pinkie says, “Did you like my trapeze?”

“I didn’t when I thought you were being hanged!” Rainbow replies, “I’m just glad you guys are safe.”

“Sorry for making you worry,” I apologize, “Time is not on our side, and we needed a way to get you as soon as possible.”

“And so you decided to stage an execution?” She asks rhetorically, “That’s… awesome actually.”

Fluttershy looks over at Rainbow’s metal wing, “Rainbow, your wing…”

“Oh, that,” she acknowledges, flexing the metal feathers, “Yeah, a few years back I got shot down on a mission. Don’t worry, I got the guy that did it. Not as good as the original, but still pretty good.” She moves on, “Anyway, you said time isn’t on our side, how long do we have?”

“Jachs said Viira would be in Canterlot in two to three weeks. The rest of Equestria and the Changeling Queendom will fall soon afterwards. This probably isn’t widely circulated, but he also said that most of the changeling army has already been lost,” I explain, “And, we still need to find Rarity in Manehattan, which is now in Viiradian hooves.”

“The changeling army has already lost? That’s great!” Rainbow immediately responds. Her expression then becomes conflicted, “I guess in this specific circumstance, maybe it’s not so great. Dang, never thought I’d feel sorry for the bugs.”

“You can say that again,” Applejack commiserates.

“So, we’re a few weeks before the end of the world, and we have to go on a secret mission behind enemy lines to save Rarity, and then the world?” Rainbow says, now interested, “Sounds like one of our old adventures! Where do we start?”

“Let’s meet back with Jachs,” I say, “If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to leave immediately for Manehattan.”

The five of us head to the tents set up at the halfway point between the gallows and the perimeter. The guards, one pony and one changeling, greet us happily and escort us to the command tent. I take a look at Rainbow, who is clearly feeling a little antsy around so many armed changelings. She pulls her own rifle closer to her, perhaps to remind herself it’s still there.

As we approach the command tent, a changeling approaches Rainbow Dash, “Um, could you remove your weapon before entering?” he requests.

Rainbow looks uneasy. “Why, is that a policy?” she says defensively.

The guard hesitates, “No… It’s just that I feel like I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let a known terrorist see the generalmajor with a loaded weapon.”

I see Rainbow’s face. She does not want to relinquish her rifle. I should probably try and defuse the situation.

Before I can speak, a tent flap lifts up, revealing Alcippe behind it.

“I thought I heard something.” She sees Rainbow Dash and turns her head back to the tent, “Generalmajor, she’s here!” She turns back to us, “Come on in!”

The guard looks surprised and cocks his head towards Rainbow’s rifle. “Ma’am…” he says, his meaning clear.

“Relax, Schütze, if anycreature is in danger here, it’s them,” Alcippe replies. We take her invitation and enter the tent, discomfort still visible on the guard’s face. I apologize to the guard for the… unorthodox situation as we enter.

Jachs has a radio in one hoof, and we catch him in the middle of issuing orders.

“- it up. Bring everything back to the barracks, and we’ll debrief,” he finishes, setting the device down. His face lights up when he sees Rainbow Dash, and he walks up to her.

“Miss Rainbow Dash, thank you for being here,” he begins, “I know this is probably a lot to take in, but rest assured, I am willing to put aside any of your past crimes against the Queendom for the sake of defeating Viira.” He extends a hoof. “Truce?”

Rainbow Dash looks taken aback at his kind tone. She waits a moment before shaking it. “Sure… just don’t call me ‘miss’, that’s… weird.” She regains her composure, “If Twilight thinks Viira is a threat, I believe her, but don’t think that means I’m ok with you or the rest of your Queendom in my country.”

Jachs sighs, “I get it. You’ve been dealt some bad cards. I’m doing the best I can to treat the ponies under my jurisdiction with respect, but you have to understand that I’m not given a lot of wiggle room by the crown. If I do too much…”

“You’ll get a reprimand?” Rainbow sounds offended at the explanation, “A slap on the wrist and you keep your cushy pension.”

“- I’ll get replaced.” Jachs firmly finishes, “and you better believe the changeling who replaces me will be hoofpicked by the Queen’s Guard.” He suddenly looks wistful, “It’s probably what’s going to happen if we succeed anyway.”

Rainbow still looks like she has something to say, but after realizing Jachs’ self-sacrifice, she doesn’t continue.

This moment of silence is an opportunity to get everycreature back on task. But… should I? This is as good a time as any to discuss what will happen afterwards. Would it do a disservice to Jachs’ goodwill to try and make some kind of deal for Equestria? A promise to save the world, but only if he promises to try and give ponies more rights - maybe frees some political prisoners. Would it do a disservice to Equestria if I didn’t try? Well, I’m not going to let indecision make my choices for me. We need a plan.

I’m coming at this from the wrong direction. This isn’t about Equestria or the Changeling Queendom - this is about me talking with my friend Jachs.

“Jachs,” I say, breaking the silence, “Assuming we win, what do you think is going to happen afterwards?”

“I…” he hesitates, “Honestly, I’ve been trying not to think of that for now, seeing as a lot of the scenarios I can think of involve me behind bars or worse.”

“What do you want to happen? Regardless of what actually does, we should all be on the same page. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings or hurt feelings when the time comes,” I push. This is a conversation that needs to happen.

“If - when, we succeed,” Jachs says, “I hope everything will go back to the way it was before Viira, but I know that’s not possible. I can protect the six of you for a time, but if the Empress asks me to step aside, I will. I’m not Thorax.”

“Then I won’t ask you to protect us,” I offer, “When the time comes, we’ll go our separate ways.”

“Maybe you should ask, Twi,” Applejack says, “This is the opportunity we have to negotiate for more independence.”

“Perhaps, but I won’t hold the world hostage to do so,” I reply, “We’re going to try and save the world regardless of what happens, so our threat wouldn’t mean anything anyways. The only thing we would be doing is making our friend, who has already risked so much for our sakes, feel guilty.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Jachs replies, a mixture of gratefulness and guilt clear in his voice, “Your grace is undeserved.”

“It’s what friends are for.”

Author's Note

Well, there's going to be a part 3. To go over some of the timeline differences with main canon, Season 6 is where things stop lining up nicely. The whole Pax Chrysalia and stuff is basically the Season 6 finale, just flavored kind of differently, hence why Starlight runs the Equestrian Liberation Front. The Storm King was defeated in this timeline before the start of the game in 1005, before he ever gets to Equestria. Rainbow Rocks also never happens because the Dazzlings are banished to the bottom of the ocean rather than through the mirror, but the rest of Equestria Girls should still work alongside the logic of activating the magic of friendship via song.

If the hoof trimming didn't make sense, look up a video of a horse with overgrown hooves. It sucks for them. The frog is the V-shaped indent in a normal horse hoof that is a backwards heart shape in gen 4 mlp ponies. It isn't seen in the normal show art style, but it is drawn in the movie.

Ok, for the "I have saws stashed all over Equestria, in case of saw emergency", it totally should have an "a" before the "saw", but in the original episode, in both cases, Pinkie omits it. I don't know why, but I had to keep it here to maintain consistency.

The Folino River reference is a little dubious. I'm making a reference to the Rubicon River, but, of course, there is no Rubicon River in this world. The rivers in Equestria at War are not well documented, but there is a Reddit comment by a user named Eltirions that names some of them. I lifted one in Wingbardy (which is basically Rome) from there to use as a substitute for the saying "crossing the Rubicon". I don't know if there is an equivalent EaW history event for them to reference, but whatever.

Rainbow does have a metal wing in this timeline. In the Equestrian Liberation Front storyline, the ELF finds Rainbow Dash in a hospital nursing her wing. The operation by Rasch is an event in the Pax Chrysalia route and Rainbow is shot, but the two events aren't ever confirmed to be linked I don't think. I'm reading between the lines a bit and connecting the two.

The End (part 3)

“So, will she do it?” I ask.

“Thankfully, yes,” replies Jachs, climbing into the truck with us and banging on the side of the wall, signaling the truck to leave, “My cousin was a little hesitant to agree to abandon her post, but the navy’s doing worse than even the army is, so she knows we’re cooked without this. Verena, that’s her name, said she’ll tell her bosses later that she was temporarily reassigned to a secret mission, which I guess is technically true, but I certainly don’t have the authority to command anyone in the navy.” The convoy starts moving.

“When’s she going to meet us in Manehattan?” Rainbow questions, “Is it like we call her and she comes or something?”

“Communication’s going to be hard. She told me over the phone just now that she's at her home port in Hoofington preparing to leave. Hoofington is probably going to fall in a week or so, so she has some leeway as to when she reports in because she may just get marked as a combat loss in the meantime.”

“That’s bleak,” Applejack comments.

“Maybe,” Jachs admits, “but it works to our advantage. Anyway, we agreed on no radio contact so Viirad doesn’t catch wind of our activities. She said that with sailing time plus her current resupply time means she’ll be in Manehattan in at most ten days. Probably less, but if she has to avoid enemy ships or lay low for a while, it’ll be ten. What’s today’s date again?”

“The 24th,” Fluttershy helps.

“Right, so that’s May 4th then,” Jachs calculates, “Every night at 2am, she’ll try and find an empty spot at the docks and wait for an hour. If you see her, the code phrase is ‘When do you think the fog will clear up?’ and the proper response is ‘Not until there’s a princess of weather.’. She’ll do this until the 11th, but after that, you’re on your own.”

That’s… a little tenuous. The docks are huge, and it’ll be pitch-black at night. I know we’ll have a few tries, but I would have liked more of a guarantee. I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.

“Ok, but how are we going to get to Manehattan in the meantime?” Rainbow asks. Right, she wasn’t here for our planning session.

Jachs answers, “The five of you and two of my soldiers will cross enemy lines. After that, you’ll take a civilian train to Manehattan. As for how you’ll cross enemy lines, well here’s what we came up with.” He adjusts his posture in his seat to better explain, “The convoy’s headed now to a hanger where we keep some civilian vehicles. You’ll take one of those to the front lines.”

“That sounds really dangerous,” Fluttershy says, “Are we sure that’s the best way?”

“I know it sounds bad, but, actually, take a look at this,” Jachs pulls a map out of a saddlebag and levitates it flat in front of us. It’s a map of where the battle lines stand with lots of pencil markings. The current line is drawn from Crystal City in the north to Fillydelphia in the east, essentially showing all of northeastern Equus as held by Viirad. There’s also significant territory lost in the southeast. “Don’t pay attention to the main line, it’s a little out of date and not important. Look at these.” He points to protrusions out of the main line, lines of enemy control following major roads extending beyond Viiradian controlled territory.

“I assume these are armored columns for encircling troops and smashing through defensive lines?” I determine.

“Exactly, Princess,” Jachs responds, “Trimmel’s army had most of our own armor, and since they were lost, we can’t effectively mount a counteroffensive. They just drive into cities, set up a base, and defend their supply lines. Since we can’t effectively attack back, we then have to retreat before we get encircled. Rinse and repeat for the last month.”

Pinkie jumps in, “They kind of look like spaghetti emerging from a giant meatball.”

I think she's referring to how the territory taken by the armored columns extend out in many sinewy lines. The technical term for them is salients, if I'm remembering correctly.

“Uh, sure,” Jachs acknowledges, taken aback, “Um, so the good news is that it means they don’t have a proper ‘line’ of troops so to speak. Equestria is really big, and since they haven’t encountered too much resistance, they’ve just been sticking to the main roads, encircling, and then destroying. If we just avoid these… spaghetti strands as Miss Pie called them, we should be able to just drive right into occupied territory.” He realizes his choice of words, “Well, I say ‘we’, but I guess it’ll be you.”

Rainbow seems satisfied with this explanation, “We’ll sneak right past them, alright!”

“Hang on,” Applejack cuts in, “Where’s Verena going to take us afterwards? You said Hoofington would fall by the time she gets to Manehattan.”

“San Manetonio,” Jachs fills in, pointing at the southwestern city on the map, “I was going to say Fort Mourn, but if Viirad has a good two weeks, they could take that too. San Manetonio should still be in our hooves in two weeks, but I guess if worst comes to worst… meet us in…” he looks for port cities in the west, “Las Pegasus?”

“So if you’re going to be waiting in San Manetonio, who are the two changelings you were saying would go with us?”

“Oh I’ll introduce you once we get to the hangar,” Jachs explains, “Which should be right around… now.”

I look out the back of the truck. Yep, looks like hangars. It wasn’t a long drive from the communications office we just came from to here. I suppose it is all one military base. The convoy stops outside one of them, and we start to disembark. Back on the wheelchair I go.

As we approach the hangar doors, they suddenly begin to open without warning. I assumed it was just one of Jachs’ soldiers operating the controls from somewhere else, but he seems surprised too.

“Jachs?” I look to him expectantly.

“That wasn’t us,” he says gravely. His tone is enough for the rest of the soldiers to ready their weapons. Gun turrets on the trucks and armored vehicles wheel around to the unexpected opening.

As the doors open, a small group of changelings is revealed standing right at the center where the massive doors meet. They’re armed and uniformed, though the uniforms are different from Jachs’ soldiers.

“Generalmajor, I was wondering when you would arrive,” says the center one.

Jachs looks… fearful I think. “Who are you?” he demands back, his voice still confident.

“My name isn’t important, only my message, but I think you know what that is,” the changeling levitates up a scroll with the royal seal on it.

“Has Her Majesty ordered you to kill me?” Jachs asks, “I don’t want to, but we will defend ourselves if we have to.”

The changeling laughs, “I thought you were smarter than that, Generalmajor! If Her Majesty wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have gone through this effort to talk! No, no, this is a summons. We know what you’ve done, and you’ve told us what you plan to do. Her Majesty does not approve of you undertaking this plan without her blessing. You are to be on the first plane to Vesalipolis to explain yourself face-to-face.”

“If you know what I’ve done and what my plans are, then you know I can’t accept this invitation,” Jachs responds, his tone even.

“And you know that a royal summons is not an invitation. This is an order directly from Empress Chrysalis. Comply or we will use force,” the nameless changeling counters.

“Bold words for when I outgun you fifty to one,” Jachs muses. He looks behind him to see his loyal soldiers ready to defend him, “If it were really mandatory, Vaspier would tell me himself. He wouldn’t just send a random VOPS flunkie noling will miss.”

Is that a bluff, or did he just threaten them?

“Mutiny, Generalmajor?” the agent raises an eyebrow, “How unbecoming.”

Jachs huffs, “Do you not understand me? Every action I am taking is in service of preserving Her Majesty’s empire and rule. If you’re really watching me so closely you can figure out which hangar I’m going to take a car from, surely that much was obvious. I’m telling you like I said in my statement that this is the only way we can win. Please, do not interfere.”

The VOPS agent is silent. He appears deep in thought. He looks at us, and then at Jachs. “Your refusal has been noted,” he finally says, “Vaspier is willing to give you some leeway, but know that the Empress’ patience is not infinite.” He points at me, “Keep them on a short leash.” Rainbow does not look happy hearing that but restrains herself.

He walks away, dropping the summons on the ground. He either knows that he won't be able to enforce it, or didn't intend to in the first place - I'm not sure which. The other armed changelings follow him. Jachs’ changelings on the gun turrets stay trained on them until they leave eyesight. That was probably as successful as that confrontation could have gone, but you couldn’t tell that from Jachs’ face. He lifts his cap to wipe off a bead of sweat and levitates the summons.

“Who’s this Vaspier fellow he mentioned?” Applejack raises a good question.

“Vaspier Orn Kladisium. Not surprised you haven’t heard of him. They don’t call him the ‘Great Imperial Nobody’ for nothing,” Jachs informs, “He runs VOPS and all of its vast intelligence networks and secret police units, but other than that nocreature save the empress really knows that much about him.”

“Is he like your boss?” Pinkie asks.

“We have met and talked many times, but he’s not technically my boss. He can have me killed at any time, though. Heck, he could have anycreature in the Queendom killed except Lacin Cardo, who runs the Queen’s Guard, and Hivesmarschall Trimmel, so I really don’t want to give him a reason to. Or at least more than I already have.” He sighs, turning to me, “You know he warned me once not to go spelunking in the caves below Canterlot. That was right after we visited you. He knew what we did.”

“So then what was the point of what just happened?” Rainbow questions, annoyed, “He already knows everything, and he knows you know that.”

“I… don’t know,” Jachs admits, “If I had to guess, it was a reminder that, no matter how free we appear now, we only are so because the Empress allows it.”

“That’s pretty pessimistic, Jachs,” I point out, “I mean, It could be that Vaspier tacitly supports you. He’s just doing the minimum of giving you the Empress’ summons. Maybe this is him saying he’s advocating for a ‘wait and see’ approach for you to Chrysalis.”

“Maybe,” he responds, unconvinced, “Yeah… I guess he could just be checking if I’m still loyal - or it’s equally possible he’s setting up evidence that I’m not so he can kill me. He’s being deliberately vague.”

With the situation resolved, we start walking into the hangar. Dang, I thought we were being pretty secretive with the all-volunteer force and all the moving around, but VOPS was apparently one step ahead. Is there a mole, or are we just being surveilled? Nopony else seems very surprised. I guess they all lived under VOPS’ watchful eye for the last five years while I was busy floating in a cocoon.

We arrive at a nondescript white van and a soldier begins filling the car with gas. Two more arrive and stand next to Jachs.

“This is Leutnant Theronix Vandrak,” he gestures at the first one, “And this is Obergefreiter Ingrid Lichthelm.” They salute, and in the Equestrian hoof over head motion as opposed to in the Changeling style.

“I selected them because they speak good ponish and have had infiltration training. They’ll be your escorts into Viiradian-occupied territory,” Jachs explains.

“Ma’am,” they say, addressing us.

“Oberge-what?” Rainbow struggles to pronounce the changeling word.

“I believe the Equestrian equivalent would be a corporal,” she informs, “but please, call me Ingrid.”

“Nice to meet you, Ingrid!” Pinkie zooms over in between the two soldiers, “And you too Theronix!” She pulls them tight into a hug. They weren’t expecting a hug, but they endured it just fine.

“Oh!” Jachs suddenly recalls something, “You’ll be needing these.” He levitates a duffel bag over to us.

“Ooo, a present!” Pinkie breaks off her hug and undoes the zipper on the bag. She pulls out some skirts and tops, but then finds a wig and sunglasses, which she puts on. “Nice disguises!”

Disguises, why didn’t I think of that? I guess we are pretty famous. I’ll probably need a jacket or something to cover my wings.

“What about y’all? Couple of changelings will probably be pretty darn suspicious to the Viiradians,” Applejack points out.

“Yeah, but we’re changelings, remember?” Theronix says. A green light envelops him and Ingrid, and two generic looking ponies take their place.

“Of course,” Applejack says, facehoofing, “My bad.”

Shifting back, we load the disguises alongside other supplies and gas into the van. I say we, but really it was everycreature else. You know, maybe I can use some more magic now… hmm… maybe later. I shouldn’t strain my horn while it’s still in the early days of healing.

Fluttershy notices my expression, “Don’t worry Twilight, just focus on healing right now. We’ve got this.”

I give her a smile back, but I still feel a little guilty for how much everycreature is doing for me. I’ve been doing my strength exercises in the mornings, but it’s clear it's going to be a while before I can walk without support. Rainbow and AJ lift my wheelchair into the back of the van and help me into a chair.

The changelings take the front seats, while the five of us fill the back. It’s a bit cramped, but it’ll do. Jachs gestures for Ingrid, who is in the driver’s seat, to open her window. When she does, he wishes us a farewell.

“I’ll see all of you in San Manetonio in two weeks, Faust willing. Oh, and say hi to Verena for me when you see her. Obergefreiter, Leutnant, keep them safe.”

“Turn here, Obergefreiter,” Theronix orders, his gaze affixed to the map in his lap. Ingrid complies, exiting the highway that leads to Bales. We don’t know for sure, but before we left, Jachs and his team predicted Bales would be overrun by Viiradian forces right around now. News takes time to travel, and we certainly don’t get war updates while on the road. By circling around Bales, we plan to dodge the Viiradian armored spear as it leaves Bales by the main road. Theronix is playing it safe, taking us on the first road that has a path that leads around the city in case Viira’s army took Bales faster than expected.

We pass another Changeling troop convoy heading in the opposite direction. It’s clear there’s a retreat going on, but I don’t know enough about Changeling tactics to know if that means we’re timing our trip around Bales correctly or not.

“So many wounded…” Fluttershy notices. Looking closer, I see what she means. Every other soldier has some sort of bandage or splint.

I am reminded of my work during the war. The numbers on the pages were large, too large to comprehend. It was only when I went and visited bases and training sites that I began to comprehend the scale that total warfare entailed. Maybe that’s a poor choice of words. I didn’t comprehend the numbers, I comprehended how I was unable to comprehend the numbers. In a very literal sense, there does not exist an arrangement where the amount of ponies and equipment required to fight the war could be beheld in my eyes. There were probably two million soldiers at the beginning of the Changeling’s war against Viira. Now that number is more than halved.

As I see the trucks go by, I wonder what that looks like - a million dead or turned. We could spend a whole day watching trucks go past us and not hit a million. So, when I see a truck full of wounded changelings, I think of the hundreds that must be just like it all across Equestria.

“I wish we could help them.” Fluttershy comments, “There’s just so much suffering.”

“Don’t worry Fluttershy, we are helping!” Pinkie pulls Fluttershy close, “This isn’t like the Everfree, beating Viira will save everycreature!”

Fluttershy looks down, “You’re right this isn’t like the Everfree. I think I was… distracted by all the noise then. Gunfire, bombs, artillery… It was easy to get lost in the moment just surviving. Maybe I was so distracted I could avoid thinking about the cost in lives. Now, it’s quiet. Now I can see the cost of war.”

“That’s just the difference between resistance fightin’ and army fightin’,” Applejack states plainly, “I’ll betcha Rainbow and Pinkie will agree that army fightin’s a lot more hurry up and wait’ than firefights.”

“Ugh, totally,” Pinkie confirms, “We were always told ‘go here’ and ‘guard this’, but most of the time, the changelings never showed up. I had a great solution for the boredom though, can you guess?”

“Parties?” I offer.

“Parties!” Pinkie cheers. I can’t help but smile.

“I’m glad to see you back to normal Pinkie,” Rainbow says, “I remember you were getting pretty mopey at the end there.”

Pinkie’s face shows some concern for a second, “Yeah, after Maud was attacked, I didn’t feel like throwing any parties for a while.” She brightens up, “But after the war ended, I realized laughter doesn’t have to come from good times. Things were really bad, but I still felt the desire to spread laughter. I didn’t do anything at first, because it felt like there was nothing to celebrate. When I started to let myself feel laughter again, regular old Pinkie came back too!”

Wait a second. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie all served in the army. Fluttershy didn’t, but she joined Zecora’s Resistance afterwards. Of the five of us, I’m the only one who hasn’t fought for Equestria on the front lines. At least when we find Rarity, I won’t be the odd one out.

“You girls were all so brave to fight for Equestria. I wish I could say the same,” I express.

“Don’t give me that,” Rainbow immediately responds, “Your egghead stuff was just as important as us on the battlefield. Well, maybe about 20% less cool…”

“Don’t be jealous of us,” Fluttershy picks up where Rainbow left off, “Taking a life… changes you.”

There is a silence as we share Fluttershy’s grief.

“Besides,” Applejack eventually continues, “You had way more responsibility than any of us ever had. I know I wouldn’t have wanted to be in your position.”

“That’s not true,” I fire back, “You had Sweet Apple Acres to manage while also serving in the army. I was just… doing paperwork.”

“I’ll be honest,” Applejack starts, “I didn’t do a whole lot for the farm during the war. At first, it was Big Mac who took care of things, but after he enlisted, Sugar Belle and Applebloom took over the chores. Yeah they sent me a letter sometimes askin’ about big things, but I can’t really say I was managing it. As for you, maybe Princess Luna’s signature was on all the orders, but I know for a fact it was you behind ‘em.”

“I was just keeping Princess Luna well informed! You can’t run an army without logistics, intelligence, and industry. Just because I wrote some reports and helped keep those systems running doesn’t mean I was -” Ok I can see everypony’s faces. Maybe I’m underselling myself a teensy bit. Maybe I’m avoiding taking too much credit because then I’d have to confront the fact that Equestria lost. Still, it’s hard not to think that if I had done a better job, we wouldn’t have.

The next hour or so is uneventful. Theronix and Ingrid guess that we probably crossed into Viiradian-held territory at some point given the lack of Changeling soldiers, but it’s impossible to say when. The lines that are so clear on maps are notably missing from the real world. I think they existed more in traditional warfare, but mechanization has changed warfare. It seems like now, a lot of combat is based on outspeeding the opponent. The battle lines are moved through armored thrusts rather than counted by trench lines.

There’s no evidence of Viirad at all, until Ingrid makes a callout, “Trucks ahead, sir. Viiradian markings.”

“Pull over,” Theronix orders, “We’ll wait them out.” Ingrid slows down and drives off the road and into the dirt. We don’t want to be seen as a potential threat and get shot. Theronix and Ingrid turn their pony disguises on and nocreature says a word.

As the trucks pass, it’s a stark difference between the soldiers on these and the ones we saw earlier. First of all, they’re ponies. Mostly ponies at least. I also see griffons, zebras, deer - wow. Secondly, there are no wounded. These are fresh troops on the offense, not a retreating army. Their wounded would have been sent back. The third thing is that they seem like they’re in good spirits. Some of them wave at the van. Ingrid and Theronix give awkward waves back.

“It’s crazy that there are ponies liberating us from the changelings, and I’m fighting with the changelings to get rid of them,” Rainbow comments.

“Well, we’re not mind controlled,” Ingrid remarks as the last truck passes and we start moving again.

“Sure, but what’s really the difference between you and them? From where I’m sitting, it sure looks like you’re both loyal servants of imperialistic, egomaniac empresses,” Rainbow compares.

It’s a stinging equivalence. It even makes some sense. Indoctrination and ideology are systems of control too, if more mundane. Still, the wording she used bothers me - it’s a linguistic trap. She’s implicitly implying there are only two choices, serving Chrysalis and being “mind controlled” or not serving and being free. She’s been through years of oppression, so I think I can understand why she said it, at least.

“Rainbow Dash, do not talk to our friends like that!” Fluttershy scolds with surprising force, “You have an idea that you want addressed. Say it with respect.”

Rainbow and the changelings look surprised at Fluttershy’s tone. I think Theronix was going to raise his voice as well, but Fluttershy’s defense of them beat him to it.

“Sorry,” Rainbow says, her tone only half-apologetic. She can’t forgive the crimes of the Changeling Queendom just like that. “My point, and I’ll admit I just thought of this, is that, from my perspective, both Viira and the Changelings represent foreign enemies here to oppress us. Whether the empress in question uses magical mind control to make her soldiers do it doesn’t matter.”

“Well,” Theronix replies, his tone also even now that Rainbow isn’t making a personal attack, “Empress Chrysalis’ greatest punishment is death. Personally, I find that much more amenable to mind control.”

“Me too, I think,” Rainbow agrees, “Mind control is so…”

“Evil? Dastardly? Diabolical?” Pinkie offers.

“Yeah,” Rainbow says, accepting the general idea if not any particular word, “At the very least, it’s the parts of you that are important dying plus then turning against your friends. Who am I without my loyalty, right?”

I look over. Fluttershy seems much happier with the conduct of the conversation now. Applejack, I notice, looks lost in thought.

“Applejack, what’s wrong?” I ask.

“I was just thinkin’ about what Rainbow said about mind control,” she shares, “I got my cutie mark when I realized I needed to go back to my family at the farm. That was a true part of myself that I found, but I’m not naive enough to say that, if I were born in another time or to another family, I would always make that same choice. We are ‘controlled’ by how we’re raised and what we’re taught.”

“That’s not the whole picture though,” I say, “When Starlight altered the timeline to stop Rainbow Dash’s rainboom from happening, I saw what you were like in that alternate history, and you still had your same cutie mark, and you were still at Sweet Apple Acres. You must have still had the same realization and left the Oranges.”

“Is that really any better? That means our lives are either predestined or randomly determined by our births,” Applejack counters.

“I was more going for you, as an individual, were still able to make the choice to return when confronted with the same circumstances,” I elaborate, “You have agency over what you do and how you change.”

Theronix responds, “I don’t think I can fully agree with that. During the war, the Empress pumped out a lot of anti-pony and anti-Equestrian propaganda. Maybe it had less of an effect on me than on others, but I saw a lot of changelings, well, change, and I don’t think it was because they were making a conscious choice.”

“That’s true,” I admit, “We had something similar happen in Equestria. It was early in the war when Princess Celestia came to me about a wartime press censorship plan. There were a lot of anti-war and defeatist news stories going around, and it was having an effect in the surveys we were running. I recommended she implement some press restrictions, and, when we did, the polling changed. It was as if ponies’ minds suddenly changed. Some of it might have been deliberate and thoughtful, but certainly not all of it.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Rainbow interjects, “Which side are you arguing for?”

“Neither,” I clarify, “I don’t have it all figured out either. I’m just working through the same thoughts we all are.”

“I don’t get it,” Pinkie adds, “If news is mind control, then so are my parties. Lots of ponies go to them not wanting to be cheered up, but whether it’s balloons, cake, or a song, they always come out happy!” Pinkie suddenly inhales sharply and loudly, “Am I the evil enchantress!?”

Huh. I wasn’t thinking of that. If pushing an ideology and controlling the news media is mind control by the fact that it influences minds, Pinkie’s parties definitely are too. Scratch that, every conversation and interaction has an influence on who we are. It isn’t even about consent; Pinkie makes the great point that we often don’t want what’s good for us.

“That’s different,” Fluttershy says, “Your parties are done out of kindness. Those… other things often aren’t.”

Intentionality? Is that what separates the two? Something about that resonates, but I don’t think it can explain everything.

“I’d like to rebut that, if I may.” Ingrid speaks up, still keeping both eyes on the road, “Intention doesn’t automatically make something good, especially if the thing is bad. I know I wouldn’t want someling casting a mind control spell on me if I was just feeling bad. A party, on the other hoof, sounds way better. Maybe that’s not a big moral statement, but it’s how I feel.”

That’s a good point. If we found out Viira had good intentions behind her mind control, I don’t think we would do anything different. Her evil goes beyond intention.

“If it’s not intention,” I start, “then it could be method. Influence is ok. Talking, parties, that’s morally ok. Censorship and propaganda, maybe that’s a bit more iffy. Spells and other extreme things are definitely not ok. So, to answer Rainbow’s original point, yes, you could call everything that has influence on us ‘mind control’, but it isn’t the same.”

Rainbow seems satisfied by this explanation. She turns to the changelings in the front seats, “I guess if you’re brainwashed by Chrysalis, then I’m brainwashed by Twilight.” She snickers, and we all join in. “I didn’t think about you guys being moderates. It must take a lot of willpower to stay that way when you’re surrounded by that culture.”

Theronix answers, “If it weren’t for Jachs, I don’t know if I would still be. He did a lot of work getting transfer orders for all of us who served with him during the war to be assigned to the Canterlot garrison. With all us together, we were able to keep our ideas alive.”

Hollow Shades. I’ve never visited this town. Well, it’s on the rail line from Ponyville to Manehattan, so technically I’ve been here, but I never took the time to pay too much attention to it during the brief stops on the way. I adjust my jacket. My fur is still a bit off color, so with my wheelchair and this jacket covering my wings, nopony should be able to recognize me.

Rainbow got a wig and pants to cover her iconic mane color. She wanted the sunglasses, of course, but that was too on-brand for her, so we gave the sunglasses to Fluttershy, who is also wearing multiple layers of clothes plus a scarf to cover most of her mane and coat. Applejack switched out her hat and put on some pants to cover her cutie mark. Pinkie Pie, I don’t know where she got it from, but she is wearing a full bodysuit that makes her look identical to somepony else. I think she did this once years ago in the Crystal Empire, but it didn’t make any sense then either. The technology doesn’t, shouldn’t, exist -

I’m getting distracted. We’re following Ingrid and Theronix to the train station. We agreed that they should do the talking since somepony might recognize our voices. I do know a voice-changing spell, but I’m still conserving my strength and letting them talk works too. I’m surprised by how normal everything seems. If I had to guess, the changelings retreated before they could get encircled here, meaning no destruction to the buildings. There are very few garrison troops too; was there no resistance? Is everypony here mind controlled? That’s a scary thought. I realize I can’t even talk about it without of risk of being heard. I don’t know how long it will be before we’re in private again, but I suddenly can’t wait.

We arrive at the station. Theronix and Ingrid get in line to buy the tickets while the five of us sit aside. We’re close enough to see and hear them still though; the station isn’t that large. It’s bigger than the Ponyville station for sure, but not significantly. How long is this line going to take? I guess we have some time to just sit back and see what Viirad is like.

Well, so far, it just looks like Equestria. The biggest visual change I can see is the Viiradian flags, but if this place has only been occupied for two or three weeks, that makes sense: not a lot of time to do much else. I focus on the few soldiers I can see. Isn’t this a train station and therefore a key strategic asset? Why aren’t there more? Compared to the soldiers we saw earlier on the trucks, there are a lot more non-ponies too. Are they mind controlled?

I glance back to the line; we still have a while to go. Maybe I can check how many mind controlled creatures are around. If Viira hasn’t visited this town, it’s probably not very many and we can talk more freely. Passive magic sensing is a lot less taxing than other spells. This could be a good test to see how much magic I can do now. Ok Twilight, you haven’t done any significant magic in five years, but this should be a cinch. I take a deep breath.

Fluttershy notices, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” I say, “I’m just going to try some magic. Nothing too taxing, just making sure I can still do it.” She nods and leaves me be.

I close my eyes to focus. I channel just a bit of mana into my horn and extend my magical senses around the room. For a moment, it feels like I’m back to normal, but then I sense my limits. I can do this, but it’s probably on the more powerful side of spells that I can cast right now.

Huh, did I cast the spell wrong? I felt nothing. I try again. Ok there’s something coming from over there… I open my eyes. It’s just a unicorn lifting a cup. What? I redo the spell for the third time, this time directing it at a pair of soldiers on guard duty. If there’s anything that can be sensed, it should be on them. Nothing. What’s going on? I could probably sense any spell like this, heck, stuff like that unicorn and the mug is usually too minor to be picked up. You’re telling me these soldiers aren’t mind controlled? Is there some kind of shielding involved that’s blocking my sensing? Maybe it’s a kind of mind control that doesn’t require an active spell? Questions flood my brain. This little experiment has only caused more questions, and I don’t have the right setup to answer any of them right now.

I sigh. I’m definitely going to bring this up with the girls later. In the meantime, I start my strength exercises. I’m getting better every day, but I don’t have a good frame of reference to know how strong I have to be to walk. I extend my forelegs and then bend them back. As many times as I can, rinse and repeat. Wait, did I make eye contact with somepony? Oops.

“War injury? I get it,” the pony I was looking at says. She’s a blue earth pony. “Same boat.” She lifts her rear leg, a prosthetic wooden facsimile. “At least the damned bugs will be gone soon, am I right?”

“Uh, sure,” I say, keeping my response brief.

“I don’t know about Viira either,” she doubtfully expresses, “but we’ll see. I’m optimistic. Anyways, good luck on your recovery.” She walks away, waving goodbye. I smile and wave back.

That didn’t sound like somepony mind controlled. Equestria is pretty big, so maybe Viira just hasn’t visited here yet. Now that I think about it, Viira wouldn’t have to mind control every single creature in her empire. Ten percent of the population would probably be enough to control the rest. Could it be everycreature here is just normal? That doesn’t explain the soldiers right? Would these griffons and zebras willingly fight for Viira? I don’t know enough about life outside of Equus right now, and I fear that is by Viira’s design.

Ingrid’s voice grabs my attention, “8 tickets to Manehattan, please.” Eight? There are only seven of us.

“Coming right up,” the clerk says, “Normally, I’d ask you for your IDs, but with everything as it is right now, just write down your names here and we’ll get your tickets printed. Oh, and I’ve been told to inform everypony that we will be switching to the Rivbit soon, so make sure to get your bits exchanged by, uh, whenever the date on this sign says.” He points to a sign on the glass that is facing outwards. Ingrid complies, writing down what I can only assume is a false name, and we soon have our tickets.

“I got us eight tickets so we could occupy a whole sleeper cabin. You know, for privacy,” Ingrid explains. Thoughtful.

“Let’s go every…pony,” Theronix says, catching himself at the last moment. We head to one of the two platforms and board the waiting train. I have to be lifted in as usual, but it isn’t so bad. Once in our cabin, a pony comes by and punches our tickets. It’s all so mundane and normal. I could almost believe there’s no threat and we’re just all going to visit Rarity in Manehattan. Ingrid starts touching the walls, her unicorn horn illusion glowing. After a few seconds of spell casting, she turns around.

“Clear,” she states, “That was a soundproofing spell - we should have some privacy now.”

I can feel the relief of tension in myself and everypony else now that we can finally stop worrying about being found out or caught for a while.

“Phew,” Applejack emotes, “I didn’t realize that would feel so darn tense. I almost prefer the front lines.”

“Totally,” Rainbow agrees, “It’s like you can’t trust anypony.”

“Don’t trust any of them,” Theronix says flatly, “Any one of these ponies could be mind controlled.”

“What are the chances any one individual is mind controlled?” I ask, “I tried to scan for mind control back in the station, and I came up with nothing. Not even the soldiers showed any sign of magical influence.”

“That lines up with how we were briefed,” Theronix answers, “Apparently, there is no way to test if someling or somepony is mind controlled by Viira. Whatever magic she’s using isn’t detectable by normal means.”

“So don’t trust anypony!” Ingrid says. “A-ny-po-ny,” she repeats, emphasizing each syllable.

“The briefing we were both given said that, most of the time, it’s pretty obvious,” Theronix shares, “If they start professing loyalty to Viira, that’s mind control. One of the reports said that that’s what happens to most of the affected. However, there’s nothing stopping them from just pretending they aren’t, so there’s a theory that there are a lot more mind controlled ponies and changelings around and that we just can’t see them.”

“Survivorship bias, I see,” I say, “So they can only be detected through their actions. I guess that means any one of us could already be mind controlled and the rest of us would never know it.”

“Technically, yes,” Theronix acknowledges, “but I think if any one of us were, they’d have killed at least one element bearer already to prevent the elements from being used.”

“Good, well, not one of us dying - good in terms of that means we can trust each other,” I clarify.

“Is what we saw here what we can expect in Manehattan?” Fluttershy asks, “Everything, um, normal?”

“Maybe,” Theronix replies, “They did say major cities are more likely to be mind controlled, but these Equestrian territories are all recently acquired, so maybe the spell hasn’t been cast yet.”

“What if it gets cast when we’re there?” Pinkie imagines, “Boom! We lose instantly!”

This does not assuage anycreature’s fears.

“Pffft, it’s ok. When my knee gets pinchy, just cast a shield!” she says, unbothered by the uncomfortable possibility she just suggested. I prepare a shield spell. Nope, I’m not going to be able to cast that.

“I don’t think I can cast one yet,” I admit, “Ingrid, Theronix, can any of you do it?”

“Sorry, Princess, but that’s a level of magic way beyond us,” Ingrid answers.

“So what I’m hearin’,” Applejack says, “is that we’re actually hopin’ Manehattan’s already mind controlled so that we won’t get caught in the spell because we’ve got zero defense against it. That’s just great.”

“Maybe we can word it more optimistically,” I try, “The silver lining of Manehattan being mind controlled is that we’ll probably be safe. On the opposite end, the downside of Manehattan being free willed is that there’s a chance we get hit by the spell. None of the possibilities are great, but there’s upsides both ways. Ergo, we can’t lose.”

“If that’s true, why does it feel more like we lose either way?” Rainbow expresses. I suppose there’s no hiding the fact this is not an ideal position for anycreature.

“It doesn’t change what we’re doing,” Theronix states, “Let’s stay focused on the mission. We’ll be in Manhattan in about 16 hours, and I say we keep our disguises up to guard against potential accidents like a nosy foal or the food cart arriving early. I can give Obergefreiter Lichthelm orders, but you five I don’t have authority over. Are we agreed?”

The five of us nod. This train, Hollow Shades, Manehattan - the once familiar territory now feels too foreign to let our guards down.

“Good evening ladies and gentlecolts, we are arriving at Manehattan Station,” A stallion’s voice crackles over the PA system, “All passengers prepare to disembark the train. Please make sure you have gathered all of your belongings before disembarking. Hail Viira, and have a nice night.”

That was creepy. I look over to the others. Their expressions tell me they thought the same thing. The way he said it; it was so… casual. Was that a sign of mind control, or just an employee complying with new policies? It’s like the true horror of mind control is having to question everything. I mean, I’ve not even met any mind controlled ponies yet - I think - and I’m still questioning. What if there is no mind control spell? That would explain why it’s undetectable. The changelings just can’t comprehend creatures turning against them. It’s the perfect theory!

Eh, it’s a stupid idea. It glosses over so much and ignores a bunch of evidence from those I trust. From what I’ve heard from Jachs about Viira, the only ideology she has is “serve me”, which I doubt was very compelling to… well anycreature really. It’s the best explanation for how she conquered Griffonia and Zebrica so quickly while keeping things so… eerily normal like it is here. I wonder if the mind controlled are aware that they are being controlled. I didn’t ask Jachs for too much information about how things are in Viirad, so, for all I know, they could all be totally unaware. That could mean there is no evidence of it, and therefore support the theory that there is no spell, but that seems very far-fetched to me.

We toss on our saddlebags and exit the train. Man, these trains really need to start getting wheelchair ramps. Heh, now that I’m disabled, accessibility legislation suddenly seems so much more lucrative. Something to consider for after Viira is defeated, I suppose. I start to think about all the assumptions that entails, but I stop myself before I get into a full Twilighting session. Gotta stay focused.

“Um, do we know where we’re going?” Fluttershy asks, posing her question to the group.

“I have an address from the dossier, but we’ll probably have to call a cab or rent a car,” Ingrid says, levitating out a piece of paper.

Theronix steps in. “Let us do the talking. We should limit your interactions with the public. It's loud enough right now that no one should recognize your voices but try not to make too much conversation with anypony. This should limit the opportunities ponies have to see through… you know.” He doesn’t want to say “disguise” out loud in public, but he doesn’t have to, we get the intention.

“Limit our interactions with the public? But I love meeting new ponies!” Pinkie complains.

“And maybe try and keep your personalities, um, dialed down?” Ingrid adds, “What we were taught in… school is to stay generic. In public, if you don’t want to be caught, be forgettable.”

We head out of the station interacting with nopony. I don’t even have to direct where we go since I’m in a wheelchair with Pinkie pushing me, and it leaves me ample time to look around at what Manhattan is like under Viirradian control. Maybe I’ll be able to figure out if the spell has been cast yet. Visual inspection reveals… a lot of orange Viiradian flag banners. Ok, I guess that was expected, but I don’t think their presence reveals anything.

The ponies seem normal. I can’t really hear any specific conversations given the hustle and bustle, so that’s not going to be an option to check. Hmm, I don’t think there are any soldiers here - all I see are security ponies. The lack of griffons, zebras, and other races also points to no regular Viiradian soldiers. That seems like an oversight at what is the biggest train station on the east coast, but maybe that tells us something. Assuming this isn’t bad planning, there is a reason behind it. Hmm…

The purpose of soldiers at train stations is to prevent resistance or enemy troops from sabotaging it and therefore restricting transport of personnel and materiel. If there are no soldiers, that means Viirad doesn’t believe there is a threat from either of those things. The enemy troops thing makes sense seeing as we are pretty far past the front line now, but no fear for potential resistance attacks? That suggests to me that the mind control spell has been cast over Manehattan. If so, there would be no pony around who would want to do such a thing, making soldiers unnecessary.

That seems like pretty solid logic, but if I think more about it, it’s not bulletproof. There were soldiers in Hollow Shades, but I didn’t get the impression that there was any resistance activity either. Maybe the resistance is holding off on fighting Viira to allow her to kick out the Changelings. Rainbow seemed open to that idea when we first found her. If that’s true, that means the soldiers aren’t necessary. Ugh, I wish I could just ask Rainbow right now, but we’re in public in hostile territory. I won’t jeopardize our mission for this thought exercise.

Wait, hang on, if Hollow Shades had soldiers and Manehattan doesn’t, that means Viirad assessed a greater comparative danger in Hollow Shades. If the resistance was what Viira was worried about, they would either both have soldiers or both not. The differential could then be explained by Manehattan being mind controlled and Hollow Shades not.

Although, I did just say soldiers are present also for protection against Changeling attack too, and Hollow Shades is closer to the front line… This is getting too complicated and I don’t have all the data. I’ll chalk it up as evidence that Manhattan is mind controlled, but not as definitive evidence.

“Taxi!” Theronix yells. He waves at a larger taxi that can hold all of us. The driver sees us and starts pulling over towards us.

“I remember when these used to be horse-drawn,” I reminisce.

“It’s hard to believe it’s already been more than ten years,” Fluttershy adds.

Pinkie groans, “Ten years!? Don’t make me feel old!”

“I miss the old cabs. They were better,” Applejack states confidently, “These here newfangled cars are always breaking down. During the war, fixing ‘em was half of the job. And you need to keep refueling ‘em.”

“What!?” Rainbow exclaims, “How can you say cars are worse than carts? Cars are so much faster!”

As AJ and Rainbow continue their debate, Ingrid shows the driver Rarity’s address and the others start entering the car. I am confronted once again by my lack of mobility - there’s no way I’m getting in without assistance. I sigh.

“Girls, could I get some help?” I ask.

Rainbow and AJ stop their arguing. “Right, sorry, we should have noticed,” Rainbow says, “Still getting used to you being in a wheelchair.”

“So am I,” I say, “Hopefully it won’t be for too much longer.” They lift me into the car and then put the wheelchair in the trunk. Before long, we’re on the road.

“So, what’s your business in Manehattan?” The driver asks. Getting a look at her, I can see she’s a pink pegasus mare.

Ingrid speaks for us from the front seat, “Just visiting a friend, nothing special.”

“Visiting a friend, all of you? Must be a special event - let me guess, a wedding?” the driver replies, inviting more conversation. This is a bad time to get a friendly cab driver. If we’re found out, I’m sure it would be only hours before Viira shows up and deals with us.

“Oh nothing so dramatic, but we are new to the city. Could you tell us about Manehattan?” Ingrid says, turning the conversation topic back onto the mare and staying vague about us.

“Well, normally, I’d have a lot to say about that, but a lot of things have changed since the liberation,” the driver answers, thankfully not prying into our business.

“The… liberation?” Ingrid asks, hesitantly.

“Well that’s what I’ve been calling it,” she explains, “For us it was about a month ago when the empress’ ships landed in the harbor. Finally gave those bugs what they had coming. They kept saying Protectress Lilac was ‘one of the good changelings’, but it never felt that way to me. When was it for you all?”

Ingrid only hesitates for a moment, but it’s enough for the driver to pick up on.

“Oh, I get it,” the driver says knowingly, “you’re still under changeling occupation. Well, we’ll all be under one banner in a few months, am I right?” She laughs. Ingrid joins in, just quieter.

This driver seems to be really pro-Viira, but I can’t distinguish between that and being anti-changeling. I reach out with my magic - nothing. Is she mind controlled? I don’t think I’m the only one curious, because as we catch a glimpse of the Statue of Friendship, lights illuminating it in the night over the water, Ingrid resumes the conversation.

“So, what’s changed in the last month? You think they’ll replace, say, the Statue of Friendship?” she asks.

“I mean a lot has changed. New government, new rules, yada yada,” the driver responds, “The most visual thing is the flags, but what’s really nice is not having changeling soldiers everywhere now. As for the Statue of Friendship, eh, I don’t see the empress replacing it with, like, a statue of herself. Actually, that would be pretty cool - imagine the antlers… Where was I? Ah, yes, I don’t think that’ll happen, I mean, we believe in the same values she does, so I think Equestria will be a great addition to Viirad.”

That’s an… interesting perspective to take. No Equestrian in their right mind would think like that, right? She’s just so casual about it that it makes what she’s saying almost sound normal.

“The same values?” Ingrid asks, no doubt as curious as the rest of us as to what she could possibly think Equestria has in common with an imperialistic empire conquered through mind control.

“You know, kindness, honesty, loyalty - those things?” she lists.

“Oh, ok…” Ingrid acknowledges, not wanting to be confrontational.

The driver recognizes the brush off. “Eh, out of towners all have their opinions, I know. I drive from the train station so I get to meet all sorts of ponies. I like it, even if it means we disagree sometimes.”

Pinkie, in her disguise, looks like she really wants to just pop up and yell “Me too!”, but she holds it in, thankfully.

“It’s always complaining about the mind control,” she continues, “I mean, I get it, I don’t like mind control, but I don’t like ponies dying either. Think about how many lives we’ve saved from using mind control instead of more bombs and bullets.”

That’s almost compelling - if not for the fact that mind control is very comparable to death. If I woke up tomorrow with a different set of beliefs, it’s not crazy to say I would be a different pony. If that me who wakes up is a different pony, then who I was before that would be gone - effectively dead.

Theronix seems like he’s been bristling to speak. He voices his rebuttal, “But more lives could have been saved if Viirad never invaded at all.”

The driver doesn’t look back at him and responds with a practiced ease, “It’s a war of liberation. I, for one, appreciate our empress freeing us from our changeling overlords. It’s also a chance to spread her glory to the changelings too.”

Theronix doesn’t respond. Maybe he can’t think of the right thing to say in character or maybe he’s angry and doesn’t want to raise the temperature and risk discovery. This has got to be definitive evidence this mare is mind controlled, right? Like Theronix said earlier: if they start professing their love for Viira, they’re mind controlled.

I look out the window. The steel monoliths of the city now seem more imposing than grand. The lights in the windows were now signifiers of potential threats, not friends. Was every soul behind those windows under Viira’s sway now? With what the driver said about out-of-town ponies… it’s very possible. It’s not a smoking gun, but it is certainly more evidence suggesting the mind control spell has been cast over the city.

As we continue through Manehattan, I am surprised to see no visible damage to anything. Jachs said this was the site of a naval invasion, so where was the evidence of that? We occasionally pass fortifications, but they appear undamaged. I know it’s been a month or so now, but a combined land, sea, and air campaign should have leveled a lot of buildings. With a sinking feeling, I realize this is more evidence that mind control was involved. If Viira could teleport near the city and just cast her spell, there would have been no resistance from either the changeling army or the ponies.

I know that’s supposed to be the “good” outcome where we’re not at risk of getting caught in the spell, but a part of me agrees with what Rainbow Dash said then - that both options feel like losing. Maybe instead, there’s no damage because the Changelings were in full retreat at the time, meaning they abandoned this city, causing there to be no fighting. That could also explain things. I don’t know which option I’m hoping for.

“Here we are ladies and gentlecolt,” our driver says. Oh? I guess I was too lost in my thoughts to notice we stopped. I wait for Pinkie to get my wheelchair out, and Rainbow and AJ help lift me into it once more. We trot towards the modern looking apartment building where Rarity is supposed to live now. I just hope Rarity is still here and didn’t evacuate when Viira’s army came through, otherwise… well I haven’t thought of a plan for that. Hopefully I won’t have to.

Theronix calls the elevator. I’m surprised, there’s no operator inside.

“Where’s the elevator operator?” I ask. They all look at me strangely.

“You haven’t heard of an automatic elevator?” Rainbow asks rhetorically, “Even I have.”

“No, I was busy being stuck in a cocoon for five years,” I remind her.

“Heh heh, right,” she laughs sheepishly, “Sorry.”

We fill in the elevator to capacity. An automatic elevator. What will they come up with next I wonder. With maybe a bit too much fascination, I watch as Ingrid presses a button on the elevator for the 20th floor. My mind is racing with the circuitry that must be required to run such an elevator. What’s going to happen to the elevator operators? Are they all out of a job?

I’ll have time to think about that later. The elevator arrives at our destination, and we find the right door. My mind starts to race again. Is she even home? What if she’s not? How do we explain the situation to her? It’s too early for Captain Verena to be here, are we going to have to stay in her apartment for a few days? Rarity won’t have enough groceries for us then, we’ll have to -

I see Fluttershy looking at me in concern. “Do I look like I’m freaking out?” I ask.

She nods, “We understand. This is a stressful situation for all of us. Think it through if you need to.”

Let’s just focus on the present for now. What is it that we should worry about that we can actually do something about?

“Ingrid, Theronix,” I address the changelings, “can you keep your disguises up for now? Let’s try and break the news to her gently.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Theronix responds, “We’ll give you all some space for your reunion.”

Pinkie pushes me up to the door. I hesitate for a second, and then knock. I thought that would be more difficult, but it seems like my strength-building exercises are working. We wait. I think I hear hoofsteps. The door opens. It’s her!

“Can I help you?” Rarity says. She squints at us, taking in our disguises. Shoot, maybe we should have taken them off. She looks at me and her eyes widen. “Twilight?”

I smile. “In the flesh.”

She hugs me around my wheelchair. “Oh dear, what happened to you?”

“A lot,” I summarize, “Can we come in?”

“Of course darlings,” she excitedly replies, “Come in and get those dreadful outfits off. Those sunglasses don’t work on you, Fluttershy dear.”

“Dreadful outfits!?” Pinkie exclaims, “I knew I should have added a fake nose!” She pops out of her bodysuit in one smooth motion. Rarity does a double take.

“Maybe not yours Pinkie,” Rarity admits, “How did you… what material is that?”

She looks to the rest of us, but we just give her the “Pinkie Pie things” look. We enter her apartment, Ingrid and Theronix entering last and closing the door behind us. It’s a nice apartment and pretty roomy too. Following Pinkie’s example, the rest of us start taking off our disguises, Rarity embracing each of us as she gets to see us for the first time in years for some of us.

Applejack throws on her normal hat, “How didja figure out it was us? I thought our disguises were pretty good.”

“Darling, you aren’t just your hat, you know,” Rarity points out, “Besides, what kind of fashion expert would I be if I couldn’t tell your clothing came from a costume store.”

“Costume store?” Rainbow Dash says, confused while looking at the pants she was wearing, “They look normal to me.” I have to agree with Rainbow here, my jacket seems pretty normal.

“All of your clothes are either nylon or polyester, and I can tell a sloppy seam when I see one. These were designed to only be used a few times, not for everyday wear,” Rarity explains.

“I could also tell,” Fluttershy says, “But, um, it’s only obvious when looking close.”

Rarity walks up to me, “Enough about that though. Twilight, darling, you have to tell me what happened! And say more than ‘a lot’ this time; your coat looks positively dreadful.”

“Well, I was stuck in a changeling lab in a cocoon for five years being drained of love and being underfed,” I summarize, “I actually used to look a lot worse, but I’ve been recovering.”

“Five years!?” Rarity exclaims, “Those dastardly villains! I can’t imagine going so long without a soiree or - ” she looks at my hooves, “a hooficure. Goodness darling, who did your hooves?”

What? I look down at my hooves. Ok, they’re not polished or anything, but they’re much better than they were before. Oh, right, she hasn’t seen what they looked like before.

“AJ and Fluttershy helped me. I didn’t get to trim my hooves in the cocoon, so they were a little overgrown,” I explain.

“A little?” Applejack says, “Yeah right, her hooves were this long!” She gestures the size like she was describing the size of a fish.

“How horrendous,” Rarity comments, “Perhaps I shouldn’t be too critical, all things considered.”

“That’s enough about me though,” I say, “What have you been up to Rarity?”

“What haven’t I been up to?” Rarity starts, “After you disappeared, I moved to Manehattan to make it big - Ponyville, well, it wasn’t quite the same place after the war. Nopony wanted to buy my dresses, or just couldn’t afford them anymore. The only ones able to pay for my services were the Changelings.”

Rainbow dash looks on disapprovingly, “I heard you collaborated. You should’ve joined us in the resistance!”

“Darling, there are more ways to contribute than just with brute force,” Rarity explains with a huff, “My methods are far more stylish.” She gets a gleam in her eye as she gestures over to a nearby mannequin form bearing a Changeling uniform. “Behold, my masterpiece!”

She points to the black outfit. It looks standard in every way, probably for soldiers to wear in everyday duties.

“That’s just a normal Changeling uniform,” Applejack says, giving the mannequin a gander, “Seen hundreds of their soldiers wearin’ these before.”

“Precisely!” she replies, “However, these, after a few weeks, are designed to wear down in unpredictable ways.” She points to the collar. “This has a chance to begin chafing, the material around the belt will begin to bite, and the fabric on the back begins to feel abrasive once it’s been washed a few times. I’ve designed the world’s least comfortable outfit where all of the problems are attributable to improper care and random enough to be untraceable.”

“Wouldn’t they just stop buying them if this kept happening?” I ask.

“Not if you know the right changelings,” she responds, “Half of my work was keeping these in circulation.”

Rainbow Dash looks impressed, “That’s probably the most Rarity way of fighting I’ve ever heard of.”

“I shall take that as a compliment, Rainbow,” Rarity says, “The best part is that it meant they had to keep buying more. Collaborating does have its benefits.” She gestures at her spacious apartment.

Applejack sighs, “That it does.”

“Of course, I don’t do that for the new uniforms,” Rarity continues, gesturing to another mannequin form with another uniform. This one is a dull orange, the color of… no…

“What do you mean?” I ask her, keeping my voice as even as I can.

“Well, with our new goddess liberating us, it would hardly be appropriate.”

No, no, no. This isn’t happening, right? This can’t be happening. Time slows down as my mind speeds up. There’s got to be another explanation. Please let there be another explanation. Maybe she’s just like the pony we met in Hollow Shades - the Changelings were very brutal in their occupation, so anything might seem a better alternative. No, Manehattan's been occupied for a month, time enough to see the new administration for what it is. Or is it? I don’t know how Viira operates. I have to be sure, then I can make a plan. Please don’t be mind controlled. Please…

I add a follow up question. “Speaking of, what do you think of her? It’s been less than two weeks since I was rescued, so I’m still figuring out what I missed.”

“Well, like everypony else, I was horrified at her appalling actions in Zebrica and Griffonia, but once she came here everything started to make more sense. It was all so sudden - one day it was just on the news, but then the next Viirad was landing here and it was so nice to have the changelings gone. They say it’s because Her Divinity mind controlled us, but I don’t know about that. I don’t feel mind controlled.”

“But you do feel loyalty to Viirad and Viira?” I ask directly. It’s a bit risky, but if she is mind controlled, she should answer eagerly. If not, this might make her mad, but that’s a small price to pay to know she’s free.

“Of course!” she answers. My heart sinks to my stomach. “Without Celestia and Luna around, we’ll need a new leader, and Her Divinity has already done so much for us in removing the changelings. I can’t think of a better creature for the job.”

That sounds… almost logical. Is she not mind controlled? Theronix’s words ring in my ear once more: if she starts professing love for Viira, she’s mind controlled. How though? This isn’t like any mind control spell I’ve ever seen before. She’s still herself - mostly - and I already established and confirmed that it can’t be sensed. I glance at the others. Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash are wearing barely concealed faces of shock. Applejack is stoic and I can’t decipher Pinkie’s smile.

I know Rainbow Dash. It’s probably taking her all her willpower right now to not scream at Rarity for the crazy things she just said. Her discipline is keeping her in line, treating Rarity as an enemy, which she is - even if she doesn’t seem to know that. If Rarity thinks we’re a threat to Viira, she might call the authorities, which would doom us all. Still, I need to understand what exactly happened to Rarity if there’s any hope of helping her.

“And you didn’t think that a month ago, right?” I press Rarity for details.

Rarity thinks for a second, “I suppose not, why?”

Do I tell her? I know that, with normal mind control spells that preserves intelligence, pointing out that the subject is mind controlled can help the pony fight it. It usually costs magic to intercept those thoughts, so it could be an avenue to save her if that is the case. I’ve got no idea if that’s the case here though - this spell doesn’t seem to work by any method I know of. If Viira has figured out a way around this, it could be disastrous.

I have to try. “Rarity, sudden changes like that don’t happen overnight. You were mind controlled.”

Rarity takes my words in, strangely unbothered. I reach out with my magic - even if the spell was cloaked somehow, if she’s fighting it, I should be able to sense something. Please, I need something to go off of.

Rarity shrugs. “It has been what everypony’s been saying. It’s a little distasteful perhaps, but it doesn’t change my opinion. If Her Divinity deemed it necessary for Viirad, then I’ll defer to her judgment.”

Her saying that was like a lance to my heart, but still, I sensed nothing. I’ve probably given myself away - I need to head this off before she sees us as a threat.

“The reason I ask, Rarity, is because we… don’t agree with what Viira has been doing. I hope that’s not going to cause any problems,” I reveal, careful to not be confrontational.

“I don’t see why it would. We disagreed when Mayor Mare and Filthy Rich were both running for mayor and that wasn’t a problem. Why should this?” Rarity dismisses.

The weight lifts from my chest slightly. No fanatical devotion? Whatever’s affecting her, it’s very subtle. Is that why it can’t be sensed? No, that doesn’t explain it - the soul enforces its own influence when the mind is interfered with and that takes a lot of magical energy, relatively speaking, to counteract. As far as I know, there’s no such thing as a subtle mind control spell.

“That’s… good,” I say. My heart is racing. I’m not sure what to say now - our plans have kind of gone out the window. One thing is clear: we can’t let Rarity stay like this. We’re not leaving until she’s back with us.

Let’s just start there. I continue, “Rarity, I know us showing up is a bit of a surprise for you, but we’ll be staying in Manehattan for a few days. Can we stay here at your place?”

“Of course darling,” she replies, “The problem with having such a large apartment is that I never seem to be able to fill these guest bedrooms. There’s enough room for all…” she looks us over, realizing there are two ponies she doesn’t recognize, “seven of you? Twilight, dear, you never introduced your friends!”

“Oh, uh, right -” I stammer. How am I supposed to explain the changelings? Now that we know Rarity’s mind controlled, it can’t be safe for them to reveal their identities. If she found out we were working with changelings… I don’t know how we would explain that away without giving away our purpose here.

Ingrid sees my hesitation and walks up to Rarity, extending a hoof, “I’m Lily Petal and this is Redhoof. We’re with the resistance and we helped get your friends here.” They’re professionals - thank goodness.

She shakes Ingrid’s hoof, “Nice to meet you, Lily. If there’s going to be seven of you, you’ll probably want to grab the spare mattress from my laundry room.”

Ingrid and Theronix nod, heading off to set up sleeping arrangements. Rarity turns back to me, “Something tells me you’ve come to Manehattan for more than just to visit. What brings you and the resistance here?”

Pinkie Pie opens her mouth to speak, but Rainbow Dash sticks a hoof in her mouth before she can say anything. “It’s a secret!” she quickly yells, preventing Pinkie from spilling the beans.

Rainbow lowers her hoof and Pinkie speaks, “Right, a BIG secret! Secret anti-changeling… stuff.” Potential crisis averted.

“Definitely nothing against Viira. Definitely,” she adds on. Ugh, hopefully that wasn’t too on the nose. Fluttershy cringes while Applejack is trying her darndest to resist the urge to be honest. I give Rarity a shrug like I didn’t understand Pinkie’s strange wording either. Luckily, Pinkie says enough nonsense for Rarity to not give it a second thought.

This is getting dangerous. We need to get our story straight and make a plan. I don’t know what to do, but I do know that I can’t think of a plan while we’re awkwardly talking with Rarity trying not to give ourselves away.

I fake a yawn, “How late is it now? The train ride over was pretty tiring. I think I need to get to bed soon.”

“Oh, of course, Twilight, how inconsiderate of me,” Rarity says, “With your poor health and all, I should have been more thoughtful. I have an early meeting tomorrow, but we absolutely must catch up more once I get back.”

“I can’t wait!” I reply with feigned cheeriness. I can definitely wait. I need, we need, more time to figure out exactly what’s going on and what to do about it.

“Done,” Ingrid says, finishing her soundproofing spell on the door of one of Rarity’s guest bedrooms. Rarity has gone to bed, and we’ve all gathered in a single bedroom to plan our next steps.

“What happened to Rarity?” Fluttershy asks, a desperate edge in her voice. I think she’s been waiting for us to get our privacy to ask.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rainbow replies, “She’s been mind controlled.”

“What are we supposed to do now?” Applejack asks, “I’m not gonna pretend to understand how our friendship magic works, but I’m pretty sure we’re not zapping Viira with Rarity worshiping her.”

“Twilight,” Pinkie addresses me with expectant eyes, “You’re super duper good at magic! How do we fix Rarity?”

“I -” I hesitate. Everypony is looking at me like I have the answers. “I don’t know...” They visibly deflate. “Yet!” I quickly add. It’s so frustrating - I don’t even know how she’s being mind controlled let alone how to undo it. Am I just behind the times from losing five years? No, Viira’s been active for at least ten. If it’s a magical mystery, I can solve it. I just need more information.

“Ingrid, Theronix,” I turn to the changelings, “I need to know everything you know about Viira’s mind control.”

They look at each other and Theronix responds, “We’ve already told you everything we know. It’s undetectable and irreversible.”

“Right, that’s the ‘what', but do you know anything about the ‘how’?” I specify. They look at me as if to apologize, not saying anything. They know more than I do, but I’ll have to ask the right questions to help them remember. Even what they don’t know can provide insights.

“Ok, well, let’s start simple. Jachs said the spell was used to break through defensive lines. We also know that it affects cities, so we can assume it affects an area rather than individuals,” I think out loud. Maybe that doesn’t hint to what the actual spell function is, but it can tell me something. All information is good if I have nothing to go off of. If it affects an area, it could be a point charge spell or a continuous field projection. How would I distinguish the two?

“Does it affect everypony, sorry, evercreature, in the same way, or are some more affected than others? Are there changelings or ponies who are only partially mind controlled?” I try asking.

“I think it affects everycreature the same,” Theronix replies, “We never got any material about different types or levels of being affected.”

“Wait,” Ingrid interrupts, “That’s true, but there was that article from one changeling who fought it. From what he said, it sounded like he was less affected than his trenchmates.”

“Okay!” I say, “That’s at least something. Now we know that it might be a point charge spell. It’s not definitive, and it could be just a sign that there are many variants, but it’s data!”

Rainbow gives me a confused look, “Can you translate that for us non-eggheads? How does this help us?”

“Oh, that specifically probably doesn’t,” I say, “But besides the fact this is a fascinating spell I want to know more about, this proves we can get more information about the spell even if we can’t detect it. We just have to extrapolate from the observations we see in the world and figure out what that tells us about the spell. If we can get enough information, I might be able to make a cure.” At the idea of a cure, everycreature perks up a bit. They may not know magic theory, but they know I do, and it’s giving them hope. I can only hope to be able to back up my words.

“Theronix, you said there was a theory that said there are a bunch of mind controlled ponies and changelings among us right now, just hiding. Is that an accepted theory or fringe?”

“Uh, well, I think we’re supposed to act as if it is true just in case. There were a number of recent policy changes that came down about containing information,” he recalls. Hmm, that’s not the angle I was going for. Even if it was only suspected it would be the correct move to tighten security, just in case.

“But do you know if there were any real instances of these sleeper agents?” I press.

He thinks. “Not that I know of,” he eventually answers.

So then it’s a fringe theory. Rarity seemed very normal outside her new love for Viirad. I would imagine her trying to hide that would be like lying about anything else. Somehow, this spell only affects thoughts related to Viira. I would imagine the affected would make terrible sleeper agents - if they love Viira, concealing that all the time would have to be difficult. At least, they wouldn’t be any better at it than a non-mind controlled creature.

What does that imply? If there’s a word to describe this spell’s effects, it would be subtle. Most mind control is very overt, so I’m removing those spells from consideration. I thought it might be some sort of personality layered on top of the normal mind, but from what I’ve seen, the affected don’t act like a possessed entity who is using the memories of the body they are inhabiting to appear normal. Both that and the artificial personality would be hard to detect and be long lasting but would not fully maintain the individual's original personality like this spell seems to.

“When a creature is affected, do they gain any abilities?” I ask. This should put the nail in the coffin of this theory.

“Abilities?” Theronix responds, puzzled at my question.

“Yes. Do they become stronger? Can they cast spells they couldn’t before?” I elaborate.

“Uhhh, no?” he hesitantly answers, “I haven’t heard of anything like that, but don’t quote me.”

“I’ll assume that's not the case then. We don’t have the luxury of doing longitudinal studies and surveying the mind controlled, so it’ll have to do,” I say.

Ok, so it’s not possession or some kind of personality overriding the normal one. Then what the heck is it? It’s like someone used transmutation to change the right synapses in the brain to add loyalty to Viira. That’s basically impossible though. Those neurons would be different in every mind, and would therefore require a different spell for every creature. Clearly that’s not the case here given its mass use. Besides, the soul would resist such changes, unless, I guess, it was overwritten too. The mana required to customize a tailor a spell to every single creature - I guess it is theoretically a finite number. Viira is supposed to be a powerful deer, but how powerful exactly?

I ask my next question, “Why doesn’t Viira just travel through the world mind controlling everycreature in every city? How limited is she in mana?” I consider my wording to get the answer I’m looking for, “What I want to know is how often does she cast her spells?”

Ingrid answers this time, “A few times a month? Mind control isn’t her only spell.”

“That’s the first I’m hearing that. What else does she do?” I ask.

“Just all sorts of things to reduce our effectiveness on the battlefield,” Ingrid says, “Breaking our equipment, destroying buildings and vehicles, teleporting troops, all over the span of a few miles - that kind of thing.”

“Those are the tactical spells,” Theronix explains, “The strategic ones are more scary. Mind control, obviously, nuclear explosions, and weather control have all devastated us. As I understand, Griffonia and much of Zebrica’s weather has become permanent chaos since she took over.”

I think for a moment. Those all take large amounts of mana, but are within the bounds of reason. Without this hole in my horn, I could possibly cast any of those spells given the right preparation. To do them several times a month… I don’t think even Celestia and Luna have that much mana.

However, it does put an upper bound on what she can do. Even with that amount of mana, it’s nowhere near the amount required to cast an individualized mind transmutation on every creature around her. If she could do that, she might as well cast a more standard mind control spell on every creature in the world simultaneously. The amount of mana that would take to maintain would probably be less than transmuting individual neurons and personalizing a spell to every creature. I don’t think we even have a good enough understanding of biology to do that.

Actually, on the topic of mana, how does she maintain mind control over so many creatures? With both Griffonia and Zebrica under her control, the number of mind controlled creatures might be over a hundred million. The mana required to maintain a normal mind control spell over so many would be insane.

This poses my next question, “Does Viira cast fewer spells today than she did, say, five years ago?”

“To my understanding,” Theronix says, “there hasn’t been a change to how much she casts.”

“Why does that matter?” Fluttershy asks curiously.

“Well, if the spell needed to be maintained, her mana requirements would go up over time. We know she has a limited amount of mana, so maintaining control would mean allocating more and more of it to maintenance over time. If this was the case, she would use less magic for other things over time. In our case, assuming her spell output hasn’t changed, we can determine that the spell doesn’t need constant mana to work, and probably doesn’t need to be ‘recharged’ every so often, so to speak.”

“That’s really smart, Twilight,” Fluttershy says, her question answered.

Applejack looks frustrated, “But does that really change anything? Do any of these questions matter?”

“They do,” I firmly declare, “Actually, I think that last one is very important. If I’m right, she’s actually not under any spell at all.”

“What!” Pinkie yells, “You’re telling me Rarity went out and started worshiping Viira on purpose!?”

“No!” I quickly say, “That’s not what I meant. I mean in a more technical sense, there is no magic currently interacting or interfering with her mind.” I’m met with a chorus of confused looks.

I continue, “The spell that made Rarity loyal to Viira was cast a month ago. The changes were made in her mind, and she now believes them. The question on upkeep was important, because now I know that the spell was done once and does not need to be maintained. I think that’s because her mind isn’t being ‘controlled’ per se, but her mind has been… changed.”

“You mean like when Discord made us all wonky?” Pinkie asks, “Or like when we were all evil after that hot spring?”

“More like the second than the first,” I reply, “Discord’s spell that time was actively fighting who we were. When I cast the memory spell, you were able to break through it because those thought patterns were being suppressed. That water, well, my analysis after the incident suggested the water left… I guess detritus would be the best word, in our minds and souls that directed us to think differently. The cure removed it, causing us to think normally again. I imagine, though, that’s not how this spell works. Rarity never met Viira, and it seems she does this en masse. Therefore, I don’t think there is some substance involved like dark water.”

“Couldn’t she transmute the material into creatures’ minds?” asks Ingrid.

“If she could do that with such precision as to only affect loyalty to her, she may as well just turn off our brains. Transmutation is expensive magic - I don’t think it is involved. That’s especially true when it involves creatures with souls - they tend to resist things like that.”

“Didn’t you just say the dark water left stuff on our souls too? Couldn’t she just do that?” Rainbow asks.

I’m surprised by Rainbow’s astute question, “Soul manipulation? I suppose it’s possible… I was going to say reality manipulation, but that also fits the evidence. Both would be completely undetectable.”

“Um, sorry, what’s reality manipulation?” Fluttershy timidly asks.

“It’s what Discord does mostly,” I answer, “He doesn’t change things into other things - he changes things, period. When he drank the glass part of a glass of chocolate milk right before we defeated him leaving only the milk behind, it wasn’t like he was holding the chocolate milk part in telekinesis and carefully transmuting the glass part away. It wasn’t even an illusion. For that moment, in that space of the universe, that was simply how the laws of physics worked.”

“Ooooh, like when we were all part of Accord,” Pinkie says. That brings up some scary memories.

“Exactly,” I confirm, “There was no magic after we were affected - it simply was. The best example I can think of is actually when I cast Starswirl’s incomplete spell.”

Rainbow tries to remember, “You mean that thing from right before you became a princess?”

“Yes. When I accidentally swapped your cutie marks, who you were changed. Not only that, but it changed your pasts and everyone’s memories. You weren’t mind controlled, but it sure seemed that way to me. I didn’t fix it by ‘restoring’ your minds - that was how your minds were in that reality.” I think for a moment, realizing the differences between then and now, “This spell obviously doesn’t go that far with the past and memory changing, but it could be an explanation.”

“So that’s what we’re up against? Soul manipulation or reality manipulation?” Theronix asks, “How do we beat it?”

“I’m still coming up with that. The key thing is that, in both cases, there isn’t some sort of magic dispelling or counterspell that I can do that will return Rarity to normal. This is simply who she is now. My first thought is to just do some soul manipulation of our own and write the changes we want in her mind.” Maybe that wasn’t the best way I could have worded that, “But I know how that sounds. Don’t worry, we’re not going to mind control her back to us.” I don’t even know if I have the ability to cast a spell of that power level right now, but I wouldn’t do it anyways.

“Well, I hope you can work quickly, Princess, otherwise we’ll have to subdue her and bring her back using force,” Theronix says, “In the meantime, Obergefreiter?”

“Sir?” Ingrid responds.

“Go down to the docks and try to get in contact with Captain Verena. Regardless if this works, I would prefer it if our exit is secure. She’s probably not here yet, but we want to establish contact ASAP.”

“Yes sir!” she snaps off before making her way out of the room.

It looks like I have my work cut out for me. I may have some understanding of what’s happening now, but I still don’t know how we’re going to do this.

Fluttershy sees the unease on my face. She steps over and puts a hoof on mine, “It’s ok Twilight, we believe in you. We don’t expect you to have all the answers immediately. Just take your time, and remember, we’re here to help.”

I look up at my friends, and they all nod in agreement, Theronix included.

“Thank you. All of you,” I say to them. I don’t have any more answers than I did before, but a flutter of hope rises in me that wasn’t there earlier. We will save Rarity.

Author's Note

Looks like I'm going to need a part 4. I have an outline of what I want to write, but I'm apparently underestimating how much each part takes.

Congrats to NovemberWolf for reading the foreshadowing on Rarity - I'm glad my hints were being caught. There are also some comic references that I hope people get.

In EaW lore, there is a somewhat controversial event chain during the Great War where Pinkie becomes sad. I've resolved it off screen here, but I did want to at least reference it.
Sugar Belle running Sweet Apple Acres during the war is also a part of EaW canon.

Rarity designing uniforms that itch for the Changelings in Manehattan is an EaW thing where, during the Equestrian Liberation Front path, is what gets her collaboration charges dismissed. Not so simple in this timeline though.