12:25 - 29/01/1009 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest
“Next on the agenda, the machinists’ strike in Wolfthorn. Ruby, you have the details?”
The weekly cabinet meetings of Lunar Equestria convened in the Imperial Lunar Castle. Near the head of the table sat Prime Minister Saffron Dusk and Warmaster Selenite, who both typically led the discussions. Presiding silently at the table's apex was Empress Nightmare Moon herself, her presence imposing yet largely unspoken.
Labour Minister Ruby Solstice, seated two-thirds down the crowded table, adjusted her tweed suit and cleared her throat as attention shifted to her. “Thank you, Prime Minister,” she began, flipping through a file. “To recap, for the last two weeks, machinists employed by Kandy Engineering’s plant in Wolfthorn have been on strike after the most recent round of contract negotiations fell through.”
Ruby looked around the room. She still had everyone’s attention. Nobody signaled that they’d interrupt. Good. She smoothed a stray crease on her jacket.
“Normally, a strike like this wouldn’t concern us at a national level, but Kandy’s Wolfthorn workshop forms a crucial link in the supply chain for oil and gas extraction.” She hesitated, letting her gaze sweep the room before continuing. “I’ve already discussed this with Minister Scatter.”
The pony to Ruby’s right, Energy Minister Particle Scatter, adjusted his glasses with a hoof and gave a brisk nod. “Yes, without the constant flow of components produced by the Wolfthorn workshop, the entire chain grinds to a halt. Because of logistic and transportation issues, other Kandy facilities and external suppliers haven’t been able to fill the gap, and their rates are significantly higher due to the aforementioned issues. In some cases, we’re paying double for the same components.” He leaned forward for emphasis. “If the strike drags on, a lot of our projects will exceed their budgets.”
The pony to Ruby’s left, Health Minister Nectarine, cleared her throat softly. Ruby turned, her expression encouraging, and Nectarine spoke up. “Why did the contract negotiations fall apart?”
Ruby’s ears tilted back slightly. “A contract was negotiated by union leadership, but the workers rejected it and triggered a work stoppage.”
“Do we know why?” Nectarine tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Why they rejected it?”
Ruby brought out her wings a little, her tone firm. “To put it simply, the negotiations didn’t address the worker’s issues. The workers have been denied time off, forced into mandatory overtime, and haven’t seen a meaningful pay increase in years. It seems they felt the union’s negotiated contract was simply going along to get along rather than fix any of the underlying issues.” She glanced toward the rest of the table, her voice rising slightly. “To give you an idea, some have worked up to eighteen hours in a single night and many haven’t had a single night off in weeks.”
“Sweet…” Nectarine exhaled sharply, her brows lifting before making a quick glance at the head of the table. “Goodness.” she finished a bit more flatly.
Ruby nodded grimly. “Goodness, indeed. So far though, the attitude of Kandy has been to wait out the strike-”
“Can’t the police handle it?” Interior Minister Umbra Shade interjected from across the table, a faint sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Ruby shot him a sharp glare, her jaw tightening. “The police have so far ensured that picketers have not blocked the entrance, and union leadership has fully cooperated with authorities and has followed the legal guidelines for calling a strike,” she retorted, her voice clipped. “In short, there’s nothing for the police to do.”
“You were saying something about Kandy’s attitude?” Scatter leaned in slightly, his tone inquisitive but insistent.
Ruby turned back to him, her expression softening. “Yes, from what we can tell Kandy is hoping it can just wait out the strike. They’ve refused to meet with the union heads and hired temporary workers in the strikers’ place, but the facility is only running at around twenty-percent capacity. It seems-”
Empress Nightmare Moon sighed.
In truth, it wasn’t a particularly loud sigh. It didn’t override anyone’s voice. So faint it might have been mistaken for a whisper of wind against stone. Had that same sigh come from anypony else, it would’ve gone completely unnoticed.
But it rang out like a tolling bell, and silence fell like an anvil. All eyes turned to the Empress.
The Empress’s eyes rolled slowly, her movements deliberate as though she were appraising a spider trapped in a glass jar. Rather than her iconic silver armour, she wore a dark gothic dress and silver tiara. While it subtracted much of the sharp image associated with the armour, it reframed her as a dark, shadowy force unto herself.
“Why,” she drawled, her voice an icy blade, “is it that every other week we must convene to deliberate upon a strike or a labour crisis, or some other stoppage? I thought you would have such trifles well in hoof by now.”
For a few long moments, no-pony dared say a word, the silence thick and suffocating as industrial smog.
Ruby’s hooves felt leaden against the table, but she forced herself to build the confidence to speak up, straightening her composure and smoothing her jacket.
“U-unfortunately, Your Highness, not every union or company is as cooperative as we might prefer.” She spoke slowly, carefully. Each word was chosen individually. “Each case is different. The nurses’ strike last month, for instance-”
“You resolved that in a night,” the Empress countered, her silver tiara glinting under the chandelier’s cool light. She leaned back, the motion fluid but no less imposing. “Are you incapable of resolving this?”
Ruby swallowed hard, willing her tongue to unstick. “That was… different,” she gulped, gesturing subtly toward Nectarine as if passing a lifeline, though Nectarine seemed to think it more a venomous snake. “Those nurses were employed by the National Health Service. We were directly involved in their negotiations. The NHS union is part of the All-Equestria Federation of Trade Unions, which closely cooperates with us politically and economically. Disputes like that rarely escalate to industrial action.”
“And is this any different?” The Empress tilted her head, one brow arching.
Ruby felt the room tilt. “Both parties here are independent. The Machinists’ Union is affiliated with the NTUC, a rival federation to the AEFTU. Kandy, being privately owned, operates outside of direct government influence. Neither has the incentive to prioritize the national good.” Ruby explained. “If neither side can come to an agreement independently, there’s only so much we can do. Short of forcing one.”
The Empress leaned forward suddenly, her jaw slackening ever so slightly. Her eyes locked onto Ruby with an intensity that could pierce bone. Ruby felt the weight of that stare settle on her wing joints and shoulders, pressing, prodding, compelling her to speak further. She opened her mouth, the beginnings of her next argument forming-
And froze as Warmaster Selenite caught her eye. Selenite’s hooves slashed through the air in small, cutting motions at her neck, her teeth clenched and usual stern demeanour cracking. Ruby’s brow knit in confusion for a moment. A moment too long before the realization struck like a bolt of lightning.
Oh shoot, the last thing she suggested was forced arbitration.
Ruby snapped back to the Empress. “Of course, Your Highness, there’s still a great deal we can do before even considering forced arbitration,” Her voice cracked as the words rushed out. “For instance, we-”
But it was already too late. The Empress rose in a swift, fluid motion and strode out of the room. The heavy doors slammed shut behind her, sending physical reverberations through the entire chamber.
All that remained was a silence more chilling and pervasive than the one brought by her presence.
Warmaster Selenite was the first to stir. Her chair scraped back, the sound cutting through the oppressive stillness, as she shot to her hooves. “Keep the meeting going,” she commanded. “I’ll take care of this.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, she strode out, her diminutive figure vanishing through the same doors.
The silence returned, deeper this time. Ruby could feel every heartbeat pounding in her ears. Every other minister sat frozen, as if they had all been turned to stone.
Eventually, Saffron Dusk broke the stillness, clearing his throat with deliberate care. “Ruby?” he said, his hoarse voice quieter than usual. “Did you have more? If not, I think it best we move on to other topics.”
Before she could respond, a low rumble thrummed through the room, a vibration that seemed to emanate from the very bones of the castle. For barely a second, Ruby almost mistook it for a distant storm, but then recognition slapped her in the face. Of course it wasn’t thunder. She’d worked closely with the Empress for years. And she knew the sound of a sonic boom.
Ruby yanked herself out of her seat. “I think this is a rapidly evolving situation that requires my immediate attention.” Her voice was pitched much higher than intended. “My apologies.”
She didn’t wait for a response, bolting toward the door without another word.
12:35 - 29/01/1009 - Wolfthorn, Manesbury
Cold air bit at Marl’s face, the wind threading through his scarf as though it wasn’t even there, as snowflakes fell lazily and collected on his mane and shoulders. Why was he the one stuck out here?
He had an office in town. A nice office. An office with heating and a coffee machine. Wherever the company heads were meeting was bound to be warmer than that. He’d like to meet them, he’d been clear about that. Couldn't they just talk this out?
But no. The union members had rejected the contract he’d painstakingly negotiated. Marl could still feel the sting of that vote like a slap delivered by two hundred hooves. Then Kandy’s management turned their backs on him entirely, dismissing him as “out of touch with employees’ views”. Now his nights were a blur of pleading with Kandy to come to the table, weathering questions from reporters with varying degrees of sympathy, and shivering on the picket lines alongside his members.
He could just go. There was no rule chaining him to this frozen roadside. But that wasn’t how leadership worked. He’d been elected to represent these ponies, to stand with them through thick and thin, not to vanish into the warm cocoon of his office the moment things got tough. Besides, he was up for reelection just a few months from now, and visibility mattered.
So there he stood. One of many in a group huddled around a crackling barbecue. The smell of grilling potato and asparagus wafted through the cold air, mingling with the burning tang of charcoal.
“Hey, Melonhead! Get another asparagus on the grill.” Thunder Tune’s voice called out from above as he descended with a flap of his wings, the Machinists’ Union flag fluttering in his grip.
“Sure thing, hon.” Melonhead (not her real name) replied with a warm grin, her horn glowing as she worked the barbecue with flourish. She cracked open a fresh bag of asparagus with her magic, her green-and-pink coat shimmering in the firelight.
“Anyone else want another?” Melonhead called out, her horn shining as her magic cracked open another bag of asparagus.
“Oh yeah! Yeah! One for me!” shouted Elm. The rotund, pale blue earth pony waved enthusiastically, his booming voice punching through the cold air.
“Elm, that’s your fourth one in the last hour,” Phlox commented dryly, his bat wings twitching as he eyed the larger pony.
“Hey, I’m a big guy,” Elm said with a hearty laugh, patting his chest. “Gotta eat big!”
“Right.” Phlox rolled his eyes, his fangs briefly flashing in the firelight. “Because you can never have too much of something if it’s good for you.”
“Exactly!” wheezed Elm.
Marl chuckled. Okay, it really wasn’t that bad. Out here, he was connected to the rank-and-file in ways he hadn’t been since his first days, and later nights, as a machinist. He took a deep breath, savouring the moment. The cold was biting, but the warmth of his fellow ponies made it bearable. Also the fire really helped.
A low grumble growled in the sky. Marl barely had time to glance upward before a streak of energy tore through the clouds. It plummeted into the ground in front of him with the fury of artillery that shook the ground beneath his hooves. Snow erupted in a blinding wave, smacking him in the face and sending him staggering back. It all happened in less than a second.
He coughed, spitting snow as he shook his head, icy flecks flying from his mane, dust and smoke in his eyes. Blinking rapidly, Marl tried to make sense of what was before him. A swirling and slowly clearing mist of snow, dirt, and… stars?
The mist parted. Marl froze. His breath caught in his throat, his hooves frozen to the ground.
Nightmare Moon stepped forward, her dark form as solid and real as the cold pressing against his skin. Her star-speckled mane billowed like a living night sky, framing a face of regal ferocity as her polished silver armour shimmered in the moonlight.
Marl’s mind raced for explanations. A trick? A changeling? But all those fragile theories withered under her gaze, a force of pressure that carried the weight of the moon itself. No, this was no illusion. This was her. It could only be her.
The workers around him broke into three camps. One group, mostly the bat ponies, dropped to their knees in reverent bows, their foreheads touching the snow. For the remaining ponies, about half stumbled into panicked disarray, their banners and signs abandoned in the snow. Those remaining, Marl among them, stood frozen as if their blood had turned to ice.
Nightmare Moon drew in a breath, slow and deliberate, before raising her chin. “Who here speaks for your guild?” Her voice came like a clarion bell, cutting through the icy air with imperious clarity.
The silence stretched, taut as a drawn bowstring.
Marl felt a sea of eyes turn to him, as if everyone suddenly stopped looking at Nightmare Moon and instead at him. His own realisation at this forced his legs to move before his mind caught up. He marched up to Nightmare Moon and stopped a few paces from her, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “I do. I'm the General Secretary of the Machinists’ Union.” As the title left his lips it brought an unexpected surge of courage. He straightened his posture. “I'm the one you want.”
Nightmare Moon’s piercing stare locked onto him, an unfathomable depth that threatened to drown him. Marl already worried he’d made a mistake.
Then she smirked. Slowly, deliberately, she flared her wings, their vast span casting shadows that seemed to swallow the snow. Her chin lifted imperiously as a light cackle broke the silence. “This shall prove far simpler than I had anticipated.”
Marl’s breath hitched, the surge of courage faltering as pure terror rooted his hooves in the snow. The bats blinked in confusion, their heads snapping back and forth, stumbling in retreat. Pegasi leapt back, wings flaring as they prepared to take flight. Unicorns and earth ponies flinched or gripped their tools and banners like makeshift shields.
And then, with a single, thunderous beat of her wings, Nightmare Moon launched herself skyward. The force of her takeoff sent a gale roaring outward, a whirlwind of snow and biting wind that knocked workers off balance and left fresh cracks spidering through the frozen ground.
Marl staggered back and fell as snow whipped into his face again. He wiped it away with a trembling hoof, his ears ringing from the force. By the time he got up, she was already gone, swallowed by the roiling clouds above.
Silence fell. Even the snowfall seemed to pause.
“Did that just happen?” Thunder blurted out, his voice cracking as his wings jittered. “I'm not going crazy, am I?”
“You saw it. We all saw it.” Phlox breathed, his gaze still fixed on the sky. Slowly, he turned back to the others, a strange light in his golden eyes. A grin spread across his face. “She walked among us. She came to us!”
“Oh no,” Elm wheezed, his chest heaving with frantic breaths. His wide eyes darted toward the horizon. “She's gonna kill us all!”
“Shut your mouth!.” Phlox threw his sign to the ground and marched to confront Elm. “Don't you dare speak such blasphemous-”
“Ponies!” Marl’s voice cut through the rising chaos like a blade. It wasn’t loud, but it was sharp and commanding, enough to make everypony freeze.
All eyes turned to him, the air still except for the faintest sound of Elm’s ragged breathing.
Marl took a deep breath, steadying himself as he stood straighter. “I think if she meant us harm, she'd have done something by now.” He kept his tone deliberate and measured. His eyes swept the group, locking onto each pony in turn. “Hold firm here. We'll wait and see. And Melonhead,” He said, turning to her. “Please tell me you brought something stronger than asparagus.”
And so wait they did, for that was all they could do.
12:41 - 29/01/1009 - Whinnyapolis, Manesbury
From the outside, Glitzy was an uninteresting pony working an uninteresting job. But beneath the surface, Glitzy would insist they were a very interesting pony who happened to be working an uninteresting job.
She was a mare in a crisp blouse, perched behind the sleek receptionist desk of Kandy Engineering, working fifteen floors above the bustling city streets. Except ‘worked’ was a remarkably loaded term. Smile at guests, answer the occasional phone call, and project an aura of professionalism. But she didn't waste her time at the desk, no no no! She was an aspiring novelist!
The thing about tapping away at a typewriter or scribbling things down in a notebook when she had a desk job was that it always appeared like she was doing something important. If anyone walked in, they’d see a mare working away at their desk, and most likely wouldn’t interrogate what she was working on. She was writing her own novel on the clock, and nobody knew it! Ha!
Only, she couldn't quite find the words to use for this particular situation. Her hooves hovered just above the keys, twitching with frustrated energy. It was supposed to be unsettling, the protagonist hiding from a timberwolf as they dragged their prey across the forest floor. She couldn't just describe the events, she had to set the right mood, make the words ooze out and have the audience feel what terror the protagonist was going through.
Her mind raced as she stared out onto the city and stroked her chin. Thoughtfully.
Then the window exploded.
Glitzy yelped, throwing her hooves over her head and curling under her desk as glass sprayed across the floor in a glittering hail. A gust of frigid wind roared into the lobby, scattering papers and ruffling the potted plants by the door. Her heart pounded in her chest like a jackhammer.
She waited, breath caught in her throat, until the silence returned. Slowly, trembling, Glitzy raised her head over the desk-
Holy cow it’s Nightmare Moon.
Nightmare Moon, the actual real Nightmare Moon, stood casually in the lobby with her starry mane billowing like a living stormcloud, and her gaze settled squarely on Glitzy.
Glitzy froze, every muscle locking in place as panic bubbled to the surface. What was she supposed to do? Say something? Wait for permission? Oh no, was she supposed to bow? The desk was in the way, would it look like she was hiding? That’s the opposite message. Unless… Did she like it when ponies hid from her?
While her thoughts spiraled, neither mare moved. Nightmare Moon stood still as a statue, though the ethereal movement of her mane betrayed her immense power.
Finally, Nightmare Moon raised her chin, her sharp features angled down at Glitzy. “Direct me to your organization’s executive leadership at once,” she commanded.
Her voice cut through Glitzy’s frantic thoughts and snapped her out of her paralysis. Like an override switch was flipped in her mind.
“Down the hall, make a right, third door on the left,” Glitzy blurted out without hesitation.
Nightmare Moon gave no response, no acknowledgment. She simply turned and strode down the corridor.
And the moment the Empress disappeared from view, Glitzy let out a gasping breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She clutched her chest, her heart hammering wildly as though trying to escape. She slumped against her chair, barely beginning to process what had just happened.
Then, a crash echoed from the direction of the boardroom.
Glitzy sat bolt upright, ears twitching. Yelling followed. Yelling turned to shouts and screams. The unmistakable sound of magic crackled through the air. She barely had time to register the cacophony before it grew louder, closer, almost on top of her.
Nightmare Moon reemerged, and she wasn’t alone.
Glitzy’s jaw fell open as the Empress marched back into the lobby, her horn glowing as the board of directors were suspended in her magical aura. The entire board of directors. Some writhed and kicked in futile resistance, their pleas for mercy rising into frantic cries. One was babbling like a foal. Others hung limp, like ragdolls hanging from a string.
Nightmare Moon barely paused as she approached the shattered window. With one powerful leap, she launched herself into the open air, the board still held in her unrelenting grip. Her wings unfurled and she disappeared into the sky, leaving nothing behind but a biting wind and the wreckage of the lobby.
For a moment, Glitzy could only sit there, staring at the gaping hole where the window had been. Shivering, she grabbed her jacket and threw it over her shoulders. Then her gaze fell on the typewriter, miraculously left as it was before-
Oh, ‘ragdolls on a string’! That was a good line! She could use that. She leaned into her typewriter and tapped away. Yes, perfect. Oh, oh, and ‘starry mane billowing like a stormcloud’, that's good too. She'll have to find a spot for that.
12:50 - 29/01/1009 - Wolfthorn, Manesbury
Enough time had passed since Nightmare Moon’s appearance that some semblance of composure had returned to the picketing workers. Conversations buzzed softly, fear fading into something resembling normalcy. Nopony was hurt. Nopony was fighting. The police stationed by the plant entrance hadn’t budged either. The only difference it seemed was there was now a new pothole in the street.
In any case, Melonhead felt comfortable enough to throw a few more asparagus on the barbeque.
Marl stood to one side, his hooves crunching against the snow as he glanced over the workers. Most seemed calmer now, though the occasional nervous glance skyward demonstrated the overall unease left by the earlier encounter. He rubbed his foreleg absentmindedly.
A car parked up on the road just ahead and Marl turned toward it just in time to see all four doors swing open. Ponies began pouring out, and Marl’s shoulders relaxed slightly as recognition set in. It was the rest of the union’s executive committee.
Nylon, the Assistant General Secretary, shot out of the driver’s seat like a cannon, her wings flaring wide as she zipped over the snow to Marl. “We got the call,” she said, hovering just in front of him as her breath puffed out in quick bursts. “Was it actually her? Nightmare Moon?”
Marl nodded, his face weary but firm. “Yeah, it-”
“Hey, look! Up in the sky!” Thunder’s voice cut through the air, sharp and alarmed. He was staring upward, his hoof pointing skyward. “She’s coming back!”
Marl's head snapped up as his stomach tightened. Almost immediately the dark figure of Nightmare Moon descended once more, cutting through the wintry sky like an ominous shadow.
This time, she landed with delicate grace, her hooves touching down on the snow without sending it flying. The wind stirred but didn’t howl. She stood tall, her presence still as overwhelming as before, though now she had company. A group of ponies suspended in her magical grip, writhing like fish caught in a net.
Marl stepped back instinctively, his eyes locking onto the suited ponies as Nightmare Moon’s aura deposited them unceremoniously into the snow between her and Marl. The gasps and startled whines that escaped them sent a ripple through the gathered workers, as they saw the Kandy board of directors groan and gasp as they attempted to get up.
Mind racing, Marl’s eyes darted over each one. Green Stacks, the company’s owner, looking every bit as rumpled and disheveled as the rest. Prim Rosella, the Financial Director, brushing snow off her tailored suit. The Operations Director, the Technical Director, the Sales Director, the Production Director. Even the Sanitation Director! Every single one of them was here. Not a single member was missing.
For the first time since the initial contract negotiation, Marl was face to face with Kandy’s owner.
The directors stumbled to their hooves, their pristine suits now streaked with snow and dirt. Stacks recoiled, his muzzle wrinkling as he shook himself off. “Eugh!” he spat. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Settle this matter.” Nightmare Moon’s command came down like a blacksmith’s hammer.
Marl blinked, stunned by the stark simplicity of the order. Stacks seemed equally dumbfounded, his eyes darting upward toward Nightmare Moon. “What?” The two said together.
“You heard me.” Nightmare Moon’s words dominated the air, as she shifted her piercing gaze between Marl and Stacks. She stood equidistant between them, her posture regal and unyielding. “All relevant parties are present. Settle this. Now.”
Her presence loomed, casting long shadows over the snow. As the reality of the moment crystallized around him, Marl felt his heart pounding in his chest. This was it. The negotiation he’d been fighting for. The chance he’d waited for. With the union’s most important and dedicated members at his back, and the whole board of directors before him.
And it had been brought by the literal actual Empress. Phlox would say it was divine intervention and that didn’t even feel wrong. Perfect for-
“D-ow!”
The Sales Director made a break for it, only to bump face first into a shimmering shield of turquoise magic. Before he could even stumble back and soothe his snout, Nightmare Moon’s magic seized him by the tail and unceremoniously yanked him back to the ground.
“None among you shall depart until an agreement has been reached,” Nightmare Moon commanded, each word sharp as icicles. “Now settle this.”
But all the directors did was cower and shrink away. Stacks, the owner, clutched his blazer as though it might shield him. “It’s so… cold,” he muttered.
Marl seized the moment and stepped forwards. “Alright. If you’re not going to start, then I will.” His voice carried confidence, though his pounding heart betrayed his nerves. “Our demands are simple. No more forced overtime. Guaranteed nights off. And a pay increase that keeps up with inflation.”
The directors stared at him as though a bulbous pustule had grown on his head. Stacks finally found his voice. “Is this really happening?” he said, looking dumbfounded at all the ponies around him. Like they hadn’t even registered what he’d said.
Marl didn’t have time to respond before Nightmare Moon’s magic seized Stacks’ tie and yanked him forward. Stacks stumbled, his hooves scrabbling against the snow. After recovering, he looked up to meet Nightmare Moon’s glare.
Nightmare Moon narrowed her eyes and grit her teeth. “You can talk or you can freeze. Be sensible.”
Stacks tried to meet her glare. “Your Highness, you know our importance to your government’s supply chain.” Stacks was speaking directly to the Empress. Ignoring the workers entirely. “You must understand, they are causing disruption, not us.”
A wave of scoffs and curses rumbled from the gathered workers. At least one “Oh, piss off,” cut through the noise.
In reaction, Nightmare Moon narrowed her eyes and grit her teeth at Stacks. “This dispute is between you and the union. Negotiate with them. Not with me.” She craned her neck closer. “You do not want to be in a dispute with me.”
It sent a shock of fear through Stacks. His eyes darted between Marl and Nightmare Moon. He bit his lip, then looked over his shoulder at the rest of the directors. Their wide-eyed stares offered no help. He turned back to Marl, and groaned. “Alright, fine. We can cap mandatory overtime at ten hours a week.” He turned up his snout at Marl. “Anything more than that would be unreasonable.”
“Unreasonable? Come on.” Marl took a step closer. He gestured toward the gathered picketers. “These ponies deserve more than that. Some of them are working seven nights a week, fourteen hours a night. They need more time with their families.”
Cheers and shouts erupted from the workers. The surge of energy invigorated Marl’s confidence.
Stacks waved a dismissive hoof. “Yes, yes, we have long shifts because we need to run continuously.”
Nylon beat his wings to propel himself to Marl’s side. “Have you thought about cutting that out, then?”
Prim Rosella stepped up to the Stack’s side. She, a unicorn, had stacks of papers showing innumerable charts and graphs held in her magic. “We need flexible shift patterns to maintain round-the-clock operations,” she argued, her voice strained. “It’s what keeps our margins high, secures our competitive edge, and assures we meet the demands of the supply chain. Without that, we’ll fall behind. That means less wage growth, that means layoffs, that means we all suffer.” She glanced at the workers, her tone hardening. “You might think we just hoard the profits for ourselves, but no, we need healthy profits to keep investing in the company.”
“How about investing in your own damn workforce instead?” Thunder shouted out.
“We can’t go on like this if you’re working us to the bone!” Phlox added, his wings flaring as he glared at the directors.
A cacophony of voices followed, growing louder, angrier. The directors shuffled backward under the weight of the workers’ fury. Marl raised a hoof, and slowly, the noise ebbed. Immediately it filled him with a growing sense of authority.
“Nobody’s saying to stop round-the-clock operations,” Marl said, his voice steady. “We’re telling you can’t expect one pony to work that long and still be at their best. There’s gotta be a way you can operate continuously without overworking anyone. You’re smart. Figure it out.”
Stacks and Rosella exchanged a look, their already cracked composure faltering. Both glanced up at Nightmare Moon, but her glare offered no reprieve.
Finally, Stacks sighed. “Okay,” he muttered. “We will guarantee at least two nights off a week for all workers. But we’ll need to hire more ponies to cover the shifts, and that will take time. The changes can’t take effect immediately.”
Marl frowned. “How much time?”
Stacks looked back. “What do you think, Cable?”
The Operations’ Director, a bearded earth pony named Cable, blinked awake from a dead-eyed daze. “Oh, uh…” Cable cleared his throat and rubbed his chin. “Well. We’d need time for recruitment, interviews, training, the whole works. And it’s a lot of ponies we’re adding on. Not to mention the risk that we hire someone incompetent and have to start from scratch, could be… Three months?”
“Three months?” Melonhead gasped. “We’ll have to slog through this for three more months?”
Cable raised his hooves defensively. “That’s a modest estimate, assuming no complications.” He made a quick glance to the shadowy pony looming over them. “And one I’m making with next to no data at hoof.”
“We don’t care!” Thunder yelled, echoed by affirmations from the workers.
Phlox soared into the air. “We need change now!”
The noise swelled again, chaotic and growing beyond Marl’s control. Elm marched forward, his voice rising above the others. “We want more time now!”
With a crack like a thunderbolt Nightmare Moon’s magic boomed out, silencing the crowd instantly. The noise stopped so suddenly, it was like she’d pressed ‘STOP’ on a tape. All eyes fell on her.
“This is a negotiation. Act reasonably,” Nightmare Moon said, her voice cold and sharp.
The workers backed away. It didn’t seem like anybody had been struck. Still, they glanced around to check themselves for injuries.
Phlox and several others dropped into reverent bows, their foreheads nearly touching the snow. “We apologize, Your Highness,” Phlox said, his voice trembling.
Nightmare Moon’s gaze waned, just a little, in response to the reverent display. Enough for Marl notice. Enough for the directors to notice it too.
Stacks dipped into a shallow bow of his own, no doubt sensing opportunity. “Of course, we wouldn’t dream of causing offence-”
“Do you have an agreement?” Nightmare Moon cut him off. The glare was back.
“Three months,” Marl conceded. “Hard deadline. Changes take effect in three months. How’s that?”
A wave of resentment rippled through the crowd behind him. Marl didn’t turn, he didn’t need to. He could feel the weight of their disappointment, the sting of continuing their misery for another three months, with much of it falling on his back. Instead, he looked to Nylon. Nylon gave him a small nod, reassuring enough for Marl to draw strength from it.
Stacks shivered, tugging at his blazer. “Fine,” he said. He looked up at Nightmare Moon, his voice pleading. “Are we done?”
Nightmare Moon leaned in, her presence casting a shadow over him. “If you fail this deadline,” she said, her words dripping with menace, “there will be consequences.”
Stacks nodded furiously. “Yes, yes, fine. Agreed!”
“Hold on!” Marl raised a hoof, stealing Stacks’ attention. “We haven’t discussed pay yet.”
Stacks groaned. “We’re already given in to all your other demands. We couldn’t afford more than the two percent increase in the earlier contract, let alone anything more now!”
Once again, Marl could feel a smirk growing on his lips. His original plan for the night was to stand out in the cold for hours. Naturally this plan had been upset a little, instead he was negotiating in the cold. But the directors? They hadn’t planned on going out into the cold. Not tonight, not with those clothes.
If this was to be a battle of endurance, it was no contest.
“You mean that measly two percent?” Marl asked, his eyebrow arching. “Come on, that’s nothing…”
13:27 - 29/01/1009 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest
Ruby Solstice had been on the phone to pony after pony for the last hour.
First she called the Machinists’ Union. She didn’t mention Empress Nightmare Moon in the call, but immediately expressed a willingness to meet with the union in case something happened. Some time later the union called back, the Empress had crashed their picket line.
Then Warmaster Selenite told her she’d spoken to police units, confirming the sighting and another sighting in Whinnyapolis. Not long after that the union called again, the Empress had brought the entire board of directors to the picket line. That was the last update she’d received.
With the phone finally silent, Ruby leaned back in her chair. Her hooves rested on the desk, but her mind couldn’t rest.
There was a time when Ruby was on picket lines herself. Not as a government minister, but as a union organizer. For years, the class struggle was her bread and butter. She’d experienced harassment and intimidation from company management and state entities first-hoof, she knew what it was like to have police or ‘private detectives’ come and stamp all over her rights. Those memories would never leave her.
Since then, she’d been brought into the new government and all the unions she’d been affiliated with had been integrated into the Lunar Empire’s political machine. No longer was she organising strikes, she was supposed to resolve them with a fair and even hoof. That was the promise when she accepted her position. And yet, deep down, her sympathies had never shifted. No matter how many times she walked the halls of government, her heart remained on the picket lines.
Hers was the only desk in the austere space. Aside from a few family photos at her workstation, nothing in the office was without utility. She’d seen the ostentatious offices some of the other Ministers had, and it just wasn’t her thing.
The door swung open suddenly, and Warmaster Selenite strode in, Ruby swiveling to meet the Warmaster’s eyes. “I have an update.”
“What is it?” Ruby pushed herself upright, her ears swiveling toward the Warmaster.
“Apparently, the Empress is trying to mediate contract negotiations. So far, nothing too worrying has happened,” said Selenite.
Ruby rounded her desk, her hooves moving briskly. “No violence, you mean?”
“No violence.” Selenite nodded. “It might be worth going down there yourself, in case-”
“It is resolved.”
Both mares turned sharply toward the voice echoing down the hall. There, striding toward them with effortless regality, was the Empress herself, Nightmare Moon. Her posture was as triumphant as it was the night the Storm King was defeated.
“Resolved?” Ruby blinked. “Resolved how?”
“I have mediated a resolution, and without the need for aggressive negotiations,” Nightmare Moon declared, stopping just outside the office.
Both Ruby and Selenite exited into the hall. “Aggressive negotiations, what’s that?” Ruby had to ask, though she didn’t like the sound of them.
“Negotiations with a sword. The directors of the company have clasped hooves with the union representatives. Operations shall recommence tomorrow.” Satisfaction radiated from her like heat from a furnace.
“What are the terms?” asked Ruby, her voice cautious.
“Mandatory overtime is to be capped at ten hours per week, with at least two nights of rest in said week assured for each labourer, barring dire emergencies. These terms are to take effect within three months. A four-percent wage increase is to commence immediately, accompanied by annual adjustments tied to the cost of living. Furthermore, formal guarantees against retaliation from the company have been established in writing.”
“Wow.” Ruby felt a smile growing. “And…”
The Empress’s expression darkened, her piercing eyes narrowing. It felt like the temperature dropped ten degrees. “And it has been made abundantly clear, should either party fail to uphold this accord, they shall face grave consequences.”
Ruby swallowed hard, the smile vanishing. “That’s…”
“Excellent news!” Selenite pepped up with a bright smile.
Ruby turned to Selenite. “What?”
“Of course!” Selenite said, her tone unbelievably upbeat, almost rehearsed. She trotted up to Nightmare Moon. “You’ve shown the Imperial state can quickly resolve industrial disputes with a fair and even hoof! You’ve asserted yourself and the state as a whole, over both unions and businesses. With the right messaging, everypony will recognize your word as final.”
Ruby held her tongue.
The Empress released a light cackle. “I had expected greater doubts from you, Warmaster.”
Selenite shook her head. “The benefits will outweigh any risks against whatever minor issues might come up. Strikes may become more likely if unions think you’ll side with them, but as long as the narrative is managed carefully, we can ensure ponies take the right message.” Selenite rubbed her chin. “I think we can go with a line like, ‘Empress Ends Strike, Defends Workers and Ensures Productivity, Everyone Wins’. Something to that effect. I’ll leave it to the Ministry of Communications. Just as long as we don’t explicitly favour one class over another or have them expect you to arrive at every strike.”
“You anticipated violence, did you not? I heard you. Both of you,” the Empress said to Selenite. Her focus then lasered in on Ruby, those draconic eyes stabbing straight through her. “You doubted my intent.” Her voice was like thunder before a storm.
Ruby shivered. “I, uh…” Her hooves felt rooted to the floor like the carpet fibers had tangled her in place. “I didn’t- It’s not completely like that, Empress. Just, I wasn’t…” Words failed her. She started to worry that she might become the latest addition to the castle statue garden.
Yet all the while Selenite didn't flinch. If anything her face developed a new firmness. “You’ve floated the idea of flat out killing strikers before, Your Highness, Of course we had to discuss the possibility amongst us,” she said plainly.
“Ha!” The Empress’s expression brightened considerably, her wings reaching out. “I was not apprised of the full breadth of circumstances at that time. These unionised laborers are no foes of Equestria, they are Equestria! They regard me with respect. They bow before me with the reverence I am due. They acknowledge and understand that all are equal beneath my wings.”
Ruby released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Truly.” Selenite smiled. “In any case, you know you can’t do this for every strike.”
“What leads you to such an assertion?” The Empress raised an eyebrow.
“Between your other duties and responsibilities, it would take up too much of your time, even if every dispute was solved as quickly as this one,” said Selenite. “There is quite literally always a strike or a dispute somewhere in Equestria.”
The Empress thought it over for a moment. “Fine, you can do it.” She pointed at Ruby.
“Wh-” Ruby stammered. “Me?”
“Yes. Quell the strikes. Mediate the disputes. Establish authority. Render judgment swiftly and without hesitation. Doesn’t have to be you in person, delegate where necessary.” The Empress leaned in. “You can do that, can’t you?”
“Of course.” Ruby nodded. “Except… Erm.” She gulped. “I don’t think I have the legal authorization to unilaterally order a strike to end, Parliament will have to pass a law. I have no reason to think they won’t, but-”
“You have my express sanction,” Nightmare Moon said firmly. “Begin immediately. Parliament can follow.”
Ruby nodded again, swallowing her doubts. “Understood, Your Highness.”
Ruby bowed her head low and shuffled back into her office. When the door clicked shut behind her, she slumped back against it, exhaling deeply. She gave herself a moment to catch her breath, blowing out a heavy sigh.
On paper, Ruby’s job was to promote the well-being of Equestrian workers, job-seekers, and retirees. They were all euphemisms, really. Her actual job was to maintain economic stability. Keep workers working. Keep production flowing. Keep the peace between classes. When businesses grew too greedy or workers too radical, it was her job to bring order. Difficult on the best nights, but not impossible. Especially when a god-empress had you back.
She believed, and always believed, that the best way to do that was to keep the workers happy. A happy worker never went on strike, after all. Only hers was not an opinion held universally, to put it mildly. Many, many in the government and Lunarist political machine disagreed, favoring obedience enforced with an iron sabaton.
And now, the Empress had handed Ruby a new pair of sabatons, commanding her to use them.
It all sounded like a good thing, but she couldn’t shake an unsettling feeling crawling up her legs. The Empress wasn't just giving her the power to put businesses in their place, the Empress was giving her the power to break strikes. Whatever the messaging, it was authority stripped from workers and placed firmly in Ruby’s hooves.
And yes, Ruby thought she’d use it responsibly, of course she would. But what if she was wrong? Or what about those who’d come after her? If she failed in her task, the powers entrusted to her would surely be given to someone else. Would they sympathise with the workers? Sympathise with the companies? Or simply want to whip all of society into obedience?
Yet for now, she wore the sabatons, heavy with godly authority. Time to put them to use.
Author's Note
For the sake of preservation, included in these notes is a meme by EdgarFox. Posted in the comments but purged by Discord being annoying.
