Twilight stared at a window. She stared at it for a while.
It was a big window, its glass panes framed by a pair of tall, crimson curtains. From the palace, she could usually only barely see the city below, but luckily, the room she was in was a little more forgiving in that department. So with her height, she peered out in absent curiosity.
The scene outside was a colorful, if mundane, slice of Upper Canterlot. Cars, carts, trucks, and carriages rolled along the city’s brick and cobblestone streets as pedestrians walked on hoof and claw and passed by the many bistros and shops that lined the way. In the far-off distance, the chime of a clock tower signaled what specific hour of the day had just begun. It was already late in the morning, and lunch was just around the corner.
Paying no more mind to the quaint hustle and bustle of the capital, Twilight moved her eyes about until they landed on an open hole dug straight into the pavement, a sight that had become so common these days. The princess smirked.
The last time she heard of an underground utility line being repaired in Canterlot, she had just passed out in her room at the palace after organizing the most recent Grand Equestrian Summit. She had left Spike in charge of guarding her room while she was knocked out cold.
It did not go well. His antics somehow ended up with a water main right outside bursting in spectacular fashion just as an angry mob of indignant delegates had already stormed in and were loudly demanding answers in front of her stupid, sleepy face.
Twilight sniffed. She was well-rested today, at least.
In the dull thrill of the wait – she counted about ten minutes since she’d arrived – Twilight briefly shuffled her wings. She would have continued on musing in her head, bouncing around in there aimlessly for perhaps another five short minutes, had it not been for a voice that quickly snapped her attention straight.
“Your highness? Our agenda are in order. We may now begin this meeting.”
Twilight finally remembered. She was in a meeting.
The princess had already read the agenda beforehand, of course, and it was a pretty sparse list. It barely expounded on things beyond a few general points, and even then.
But she also knew this meeting would be the first one ever held by what she could only ascertain to be a very recently assembled Crown committee. And it was one personally ordered by Princess Celestia herself at terribly short notice too, so Twilight could at least forgive such an oversight.
For what reason this committee was assembled, Twilight had a bit of a clue. The last few years hadn’t exactly been quiet, and even this meeting alone didn’t give off any confidence. The moment that letter landed onto her desk through the one secret government channel that had just been set up for her and Celestia specifically, she had to quickly scramble to remember her correct authentication signature lest the whole damn thing disintegrated before she could even open it.
This also wasn’t the first time that had ever happened, though this meeting in particular was markedly different in both size and secrecy. And urgency, for that matter; Twilight had to pack her bags rather quickly once she received the message to come to Canterlot.
Then, there were the attendees.
Twilight shifted in her seat, resting her body against a hardwood chair that was just a bit more decorative than functional for her alicorn frame. She looked around. There were one or two empty chairs, but the room otherwise had full attendance. The people gathered around the table were what one would have expected – and not expected – to show up.
Princess Twilight herself was near one end of the table, her chair sat along its length. On her immediate right was Princess Celestia, placed at the table’s head and currently shuffling some papers. She did so with the help of the royal secretary to the Crown, a primly cut and modest unicorn named Raven Inkwell, though there seemed to be another mare beside her who was supplying all those papers to her. Right across them at the other end of the table was Princess Luna, seemingly lost in her own thoughts and lazily scanning the room around her. Twilight tried not to make eye contact, and instead, looked elsewhere.
There was Spitfire, captain of the Wonderbolts and newest air marshal of the armed forces, with an expression that was hard to guess plastered all over her face. She had her mane down, and her iconic photogenic shades were nowhere to be found. Across from her was Fancy Pants, current chairpony of the royal privy council, with mane and moustache groomed to perfection. From Twilight’s experience, he was much more humble than he looks.
There was also Prince Blueblood, who was somewhat uncharacteristically quiet in his seat. The blond-headed stallion made shifty gazes between Celestia and Luna before rearranging the binders in front of him for what was seemingly the thirteenth time that morning. Maybe the military appointment was finally getting to him.
Then there was Flash Magnus for some reason, almost anachronistically stuffed into a coat and clearly being incredibly uncomfortable in it. And beside him was an awfully familiar beige pony Twilight swore she knew back in Ponyville, a mare with soft pink and blue curls that was currently the most conspicuously casual among everyone at the table.
And out of all the ponies to show up that day, there was Granny Smith, dressed in her Sun Day’s best. Stars knew why she was there.
Along with them were a few other top brass and suits that Twilight did not recognize, their names and faces coming up blank in her head. Among them was the brand new defense minister, fresh in his suit after having been recently appointed by Princess Luna. He somehow seemed even more on edge than both Blueblood and Magnus combined. Not the most reassuring impression so far.
Yet before Twilight could continue, the whole table around her suddenly came to life, and the meeting began in earnest. Twilight sat straight up, her ears swiveling forward to listen.
Celestia spoke first. She began with a few opening remarks expressing her gratitude for the people gathered in front of her, though she moved and conveyed her words without as much of her usual warm energy. After that, she politely handed things off to Raven.
The mare was brief, thankfully, rattling off the first few points of interest in the order of business, all while her previously invisible undersecretary calmly scribbled down notes onto a small book.
After that, more people started talking. Luna spoke up and called out a few ponies to the stand to present whatever they had on hoof that was relevant to the meeting. There was a moment as the ponies looked at each other, stood up, and arranged their findings into a somewhat more manageable pile in front of everyone. From what Twilight could tell, they were high-ranking cabinet ministers.
The slight commotion continued, and it was at that point, as charts and tables about Western Equestrian geography and demographic statistics came into view, that Twilight promptly checked out and mentally smashed her head into a concrete wall with a frightening speed.
How could she?
She was a princess, for sisters’ sake! There Twilight was, put into her first real private meeting in her capacity as one of the highest, most trusted rulers of the entire country, and she barely even knew the actual people supposedly running her own country’s government. Princess Twilight Sparkle had never once thought to formally get to know any of them before all of this, and now, that decision was biting her in the flank hard.
It was terrible timing too. Twilight had already figured out that, whatever this was, the stars-damned military was evidently getting involved. And the last few times they were involved, Severyana broke away in bloody revolution and Canterlot was utterly blindsided by an entire changeling army showing up right on its doorstep in the middle of a royal wedding.
Twilight slightly sunk into her seat, sulking without anyone appearing to notice. Horseapples.
What did they expect her to do? Ask the Cutie Map for a friendship problem to solve?
Believe her, she tried. It didn’t work. Hell, it hadn’t even been working at all for a while now. From a few years ago until that very moment, there was only complete radio silence from that oversized magical diorama plopped right into the middle of her big, shiny, pretty-princess castle.
Twilight was not in the right place, she just wasn’t. She knew she shouldn’t say such a thing, but this time was different. This time, she was truly and utterly out of her depth in a way that had so embarrassingly failed every expectation about her station as a princess. She could sense it.
Every minute that ticked by, every second she pretended to listen, little Twilight could already feel the weight of it all slowly grabbing onto her and digging into her chest, even if she hadn’t yet fully deciphered just what the big idea was.
And yet…
It wasn’t like she had any other choice. She was the Princess Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic and Princess of Friendship, one of only a few alicorn princesses to have ever existed. And from yonder west, a storm was coming, one she had been tasked to help Equestria navigate, whether she thought she was up to it or not.
But what storm?
Princess Twilight looked around once more.
The meeting had already gone well into its first half hour. Prince Blueblood was on the podium, talking in a way that just did not fit the young stallion she knew. But Twilight forced herself to listen anyway. It was her job.
“In all, the First Army’s total operational readiness at the present moment leaves much to be desired. The logistical situation at the border is still a work in progress, and our current estimates place the army’s mobilization capabilities at a frankly abysmal level for the kind of military force we aim to achieve by the end of next year. Military production and procurement remain tentatively adequate, however; a golden ray of sunshine afforded to us for now.”
Prince Blueblood paused to take a breath and relieve his chapped lips before continuing.
“But, your highnesses, I cannot stress this enough. We are woefully underprepared for any future armed conflict that could last any more than a single month of sustained combat operations.”
Blueblood hardened his gaze, if only slightly. “I say now: the alarm bells of Equestrian and allied military armament are ringing, and the warning they bring swiftly knocking at our doors. You cannot deny the proof – chief among them the predictions born out of that report of mister Dotted Line that, now, have all become chillingly true. The next two years, I believe, shall most likely decide whether Equestria remains whole and intact... or not at all."
Once the words had settled, Blueblood sat back down on his seat, looking like he had just gone out for a brisk jog without anyone noticing. And like clockwork, the next presenter stood up from their chair, eager to tell everyone just how bad things really were.
It was like that for a while, and Twilight didn’t like it, not one bit. She looked to her right and immediately locked eyes with Celestia.
The younger mare seemed like she was not alone.
Princess Twilight then looked to her left, and Luna was somehow even worse. Twilight looked back to Celestia.
What the hell happened? What could have possibly happened in just three months? Everything was fine before. We had a plan, and you told me it yourself. Luna did as well.
But Celestia didn’t need to respond. Twilight already knew.
“Regrettably, due to our current situation, we remain unable to provide any substantial aid to the Kingdom of Olenia in their struggle against the changeling invasion,” the pony now speaking at the table said, white collar wrapped stiffly around her neck.
She continued, “And that is not likely to change anytime soon. Worse still, the latest reports on the strategic situation at the front suggests that this may no longer even be relevant in the near future. Vaverfront, and indeed even Hjörtland, are expected to not be in Olenian hooves within a week or a fortnight. I… apologize, your highnesses, for this terrible news.”
After that, there was an awkward silence before the mare nodded and meekly sat back down onto her seat.
And it just didn’t stop. Things were either bad or terrible from every angle one looked:
Equestria’s outdated navy rendered trade routes with New Mareland and Hippogriffia completely vulnerable. Her large, obsolete air force was much more of a liability than an asset. And the country’s overall economic picture did not promise any good news either, neither having the ability to retool in good order nor the fortitude to sustain a major financial shock without harrowing costs to the state and the average pony.
And the food...
On top of all that, there were even rumors from the Crystal Empire about a possible return of Sombra, as if things weren’t already the opposite of peachy.
No rest for the wicked, huh?
Twilight could only think about Flurry Heart, Shining Armor, and Cadance. She’ll have to write a letter to her brother soon to ask him about the situation in the Crystal Empire.
Suddenly, before the next speaker could gather all their things together, another pony raised his hoof. He was a greying, mild-mannered gentle-stallion, almost blending into the rest of the table before he grabbed everyone’s attention.
Raven Inkwell gave the go ahead, and the old stallion proceeded.
“If I may, what exactly is the possibility that we would have to deter changeling aggression through violent and threatening means? Could a large-scale border war really happen? If we are wrong, and the changelings do not decide to actually dominate the whole of Olenia, what would we have achieved in such provocations in far-away Acornage that would not be a net loss for our political position with the western polities?”
As if to punctuate his little speech, the old pony paused for a second before he said, “In other words, is our position final? Is open conflict possibly on the horizon?” A brief silence swept the room as the old pony finished his inquiry, multiple figures visibly musing his words.
However, before anypony could reply, Celestia spoke up, and all eyes immediately shot towards her direction as she did so.
“Sir, and I ask that you forgive me, but at this stage of the matter at hoof, I believe we are now well beyond the question of a border conflict in ‘far-away’ Acornage. Or for that matter, the rest of western Equestria and Crystallia.” Celestia paused, everypony waiting for her to continue.
“Your concerns about the uncertainties are valid, very much so. But as we weigh the present facts, the calculation is becoming clearer, clearer than they ever were just a year ago since the Dotted Line report came out.” The princess held herself still, seemingly undisturbed in her seat. “And so, as for your last question, sir..."
Not a single soul in the room moved.
“Yes.”
Twilight stared at Celestia. She stared at her for a while.