Harmondorf
Celestial Empire of Harmony
By the grace of Celestia’s might, Her Most Holy Sun had begun its descent from the sky, sinking towards the horizon, so that Luna’s Moon might take its place for the night. It’s cooling light would calm the earth, beasts, and trees, granting them a brief respite from the ever present fire of Celesita’s power that served as ever present reminder that the God-Princess of Ponykind was mighty but kind. As the orb of fire sank lower and lower, its last light smeared itself across the land, growing redder and redder until the light streaming through the windows of the Grand Gallery in the Palace of the Sun seemed to fill the massive room with blood. Blood that slowly--but surely--crept up the walls, and submerged the dozens of ponies within until every spot in the room glowed with that dull red. The symbolism of the dusk light was not lost upon the Empress Lieb I von Ossvold, who sat at the head of the table, gazing across her assembled generals, high lords, ladies, and diplomats while they worked to bring her plans to fruition. She had long ago adopted her Imperial face: a calm, blank canvas that she could quickly convert into whatever was most fit for the situation. She was an artist, able to go from her perceived calm to the writhing fury of an Emperor, the girlish laughter of a maiden, or whatever else was needed to further her ends in the moment.
Or, at least, that was what anyone watching her would think. Inside,she would remain as calm as ice, carefully moving every piece into position according to her plan. She was a master at the great game all politicians of the Celestial Empire played, and for the past decade, none had been able to challenge her. Everyone in this room had a role in her game, be it a pawn to be sacrificed, a rook to smash her foes, or a knight to strike from an unexpected angle. Some might even be considered her queens, valuable, beloved, powerful, but even they were meant to be sacrificed if the time came for it. The room was full of the most powerful ponies within the Celestial Empire of Harmony, and Lieb saw nothing but her own pieces in play.
Oh, certainly, some of them though that they were players in their own right, that they might be able to move some of her own pieces against her, but those delusions were useful to her in their own ways. One of them was approaching her now, the Elector of Sudgrenze, the Duke Sol von Hochgarte: an older unicorn stallion, his once black mane streaked grey. The war would be launched from his lands, and he seemed ot have the young Electress of Ebenstadt well in his camp. No doubt, Sol thought he had plenty of authority and power, but every stallion had his weaknesses and Lieb knew what his were.
“Your Imperial Highness,” he said, bowing as he approached her.
“My lord of Sudgrenze!” she said happily beaming at him, playing the innocent maiden for the time being. He no doubt knew of her...proclivities, and this would discomfort him. The slight step back he took was all she needed to know it had worked. “What news do you bring me?”
“Preparations proceed on schedule your grace,” he said, quickly regaining his composure, but Lieb already had seen enough to know how to play him like a flute. “But ah...there are matters I would like to discuss with you.”
“Good, good...” she said, continuing in that cheerful, childish voice. “Please walk with me and tell me of them,” she said, nodding at her guards. “Leave me with him, in the antechamber,” she ordered. “Come along then!” she said, trotting off.
“I...of course, Your Majesty,” he said. He could not well refuse such a direct request from his own Empress, no matter how worried it made him, and as she skipped merrily along, Duke Sol following her Lieb smirked. Any schemes that he might have had were about to come crashing down.
“So, my Lord,” she said, as the door to the meeting room shut and the guards left them alone in the antechamber, still filled with the red light from outside. “What news do you have for me?”
“Forgive me your Majesty, but I can not give you good news,” he said. “Our pegasi report that the Akilans know...and they are ready.”
“Oh?” she said, nonchalantly, admiring a picture. “How unfortunate.”
“Your Majesty, thousands will die. Our attack will fail. I will not send my people to die for no reason,” he said, firmly. “The Electress Celestine agrees with me. We will not permit war to come to our lands.”
“Won’t you now?”
“No,” he said. “And we are not alone. Lutosland worries as well.”
“My dear Duke, you think that I do not know of their fears? And do you think I do not know that they all follow you?”
“Why I--”
“When the Gawdzendian Doom fell on us, those provinces lost most of their lords and nobility. You--Celestia be praised--survived,” Lieb said, turning to smile at him, her face still as innocent as a foals. “I wonder how?”
“I am not sure how relevant that is to any of--” he tried to speak, although Lieb spoke right over him.
“Might it have something to do with you...expeditions to the north?” she asked with a slight giggle to her voice. “All those maids of yours...and you send them into the chaos forests?” she continued.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, backing away from her, but Lieb chased after him, so that she stood staring into his face, her innocent smile turning into a wicked smirk. The red pouring through the windows played across her white fur like blood on snow.
“Of course you don’t,” she said, her breath drifting over her face. “You don’t know about that...secret room back in your palace where you watch what happens to them? Oh...what would your lady wife think! What would the Celestial Priests think!” she said, wistfully, bringing her hoof along his cheek.
“They would hang you out to dry. Your wife. Lutosland. Oh, that little filly who rules Ebenstadt might follow you to the end of her days...but I wonder how long those days are. Until you can find someway to plant someone close to you on her throne?” she asked.
Sol was trembling, despite towering over the Empress. He slowly collapsed back onto his haunches, to look up at her, his eyes full of emotions. ’Now’ Lieb thought as she gazed into those eyes.
“Oh don’t worry my dear!” she said with a laugh. “Your secrets are safe with me...I am always sure to reward my frieds,” she said, as she leaned closer, and kissed his horn gently. He seemed to jump as her lips touched, and trembled. “I reward in all sorts of ways...” she whispered, kissing him on his lips.
“You...you...”
“Me...me...what?” she asked, as she unclasped her cloak, letting it fall to the ground. “I will keep your secrets and reward you handsomely,” she said. “Provided you do as you are bid,” she said, again leaning close to kiss his horn, though this time she let her kiss linger. “Do we have an accord?”
The Duke’s whole body seemed to tremble, and his eyes were closed.
“Yes..yes your Majesty,” he finally whispered.
“Good,” Lieb replied. “Now stand still...” she said, as the last glimpse of Celestia’s red sun flashed through the windows, and the dark took its place.
The outbreak of the Celestial War can be lain on the hooves of one being, and one being alone: the Holy Regent Empress Lieb I von Ossvold of the Celestial Empire of Harmony. Lieb I had always been insecure on her throne, having secured her election only after the death of Emperor Wheathelm IV during what Celestials called ‘the Gawdzendian Doom’, and even then only by a narrowly decided vote of 7-6. The fact that the elector of the Church of Celestia died before she could cast a vote--widely considered to be a vote against Lieb von Ossvold--and the election was held before a replacement could be decided upon cast a great shade of doubt on Lieb’s legitimacy as Empress. A detailed investigation by both the Lightbringers and Nightstalkers could prove no connection between the electors death and Lieb or any of her assosciates, and both inquisitorial orders declared the newly elected Empress ‘free of heresy’, though the Church of Celestia remained suspicious of her, and thier suspicions only grew as Lieb I began to closen relations between the Celestial Empire of Harmony and the Greater Pony Herd. A growing discord in many of the more conservative provinces along with pressure from the Church of Celestia seemed to lead the Empire closer and closer to an open civil war between the Empress, and many of her subjects. Indeed, both sides had begun to marshall military forces, and the High Lady Solar of the Church of Celestia condemned both the Empress and the Lady of the Night for heresy against the will of the God Princess.
However, just as war seemed inevitable, a solution presented itself. The Gawdzendian Doom had left many of the Celestial Empire’s older families suffering from the potential for a complete pedigree collapse, as the number of potential suitors for the surviving nobility had dropped dramatically. Many families began to consider the possibility of marriages with only 1 degree of familial separation. In what is perhaps the most extreme case, the Margrave of Takelwald proposed a marriage between his own children, as almost all potential suitors had died. As a token for their support, Lieb I von Ossvold proposed to remove--by Imperial Edict--the centuries old Privilegium Nobilitis, which denied the legitimacy of foals born to marriages between the upper (Dukes, Archdukes, etc.) and lower (Count, Margrave, Baron, Knight, etc.) nobility, as well as the foals of any noble-commoner marriage. The proposed repeal would provide the opportunity for many of the families most stringently opposing her claim to the throne to not only expand and secure their dynasties, but also allow for a great deal of hard currency from wealthy merchants and other commoners to enter their pockets. Although some opposition remained to the repeal, the deal was accepted by the overwhelming majority of nobles at the Diet of Opestadt, although Lieb I was forced to forfeit many of the territories she had claimed for the Imperial Crown by Right of Devolution after the Gawdzendian Doom. However, the results of the Diet also presented a significant challenge to the future stability of the Empire.
The Diet had significantly strengthened many noble houses, providing them both with secure heirs, indivisible lands, and--in some cases--caused lands long divided between two branches to be reunited under one being. Making the situation even more tense, many of the marriage alliances that had kept the great houses of the Empire in relative peace with one another had either been destroyed by the Doom or forsaken for more tempting marriages after the Diet of Opestadt. Only five months after the Diet had spoken, a full scale armed clash occurred between the armies of Herzland and Lutosland over rights to the roads and trade rights of Lutoburg. The Battle of the Amber Ford as it was later known resulted in defeat for the Lutoslanders and soon enough, Lutosburg was besieged by Herzland, and the Herzlanders were beginning to demand the entire city be ceded. Only the appearance of the Empress, with the Imperial Army put an end to the battle, and the crisis was--temporarily--averted. However, the situation became increasingly unstable, and to many observers across all Poneria, it seemed that the Celestial Empire was about to fall--once again--into civil war.
The perception proved almost as damaging as the war that eventually broke out, as foreign businesses began to shy away from the Empire and foreign investment slowed to a trickle. The drying up of the capital stream from abroad put a further crimp on the Empire, as Lieb had borrowed heavily in order to fund a campaign of reform and centralisation across the Empire. To those within the Imperial Circle at Harmmonsdorf it became increasingly clear that drastic action was needed. The Electors and Princes of the Empire needed to be brought to heel, and--potentially-- have their power broken for good. New resources needed to be acquired and sources of income found in order to finance Lieb’s ambitions of a Celestial Empire united under her and her alone. Most importantly, the solution needed to be found soon, before some other crisis could erupt; one that would not be so easy to diffuse and before the financial situation became impossible to escape from.
Soon enough, a solution began to form in the halls of power in Harmmondorf. From the Palace of the Sun, the eyes of Lieb I von Ossvold and her Court turned across the Nordernte River to the Marshite Colony of Akila. With the Holy Marsh in civil war, the colony’s overlord was distracted, and Akila was weakly defended in its own right. More importantly, it was rich with vast resources and ponies who could be brought into the Empire as new provinces whose taxed wealth and trade would feed the necessary capital to the Imperial coffers. To the more cynical minded, a massive war--properly fought--would allow the Empress to bleed away the military strength of the noble houses, leaving them to weak to properly resist the Empress’s campaing of reform which was to follow. Soon enough, a decision was made. A coalition of southern lords, briefly led by Duke Sol of Sudengrenze publically opposed the war, but it soon collapsed when the Duke personally began to marshal his forces along the Akilan border. Diplomacy tried to assert itself, as the massive Celestial preparations did not go unnoticed, but they seemed fruitless. Across the continent and region, billions of beings held their breath...and waited.
Or, at least, that was what anyone watching her would think. Inside,she would remain as calm as ice, carefully moving every piece into position according to her plan. She was a master at the great game all politicians of the Celestial Empire played, and for the past decade, none had been able to challenge her. Everyone in this room had a role in her game, be it a pawn to be sacrificed, a rook to smash her foes, or a knight to strike from an unexpected angle. Some might even be considered her queens, valuable, beloved, powerful, but even they were meant to be sacrificed if the time came for it. The room was full of the most powerful ponies within the Celestial Empire of Harmony, and Lieb saw nothing but her own pieces in play.
Oh, certainly, some of them though that they were players in their own right, that they might be able to move some of her own pieces against her, but those delusions were useful to her in their own ways. One of them was approaching her now, the Elector of Sudgrenze, the Duke Sol von Hochgarte: an older unicorn stallion, his once black mane streaked grey. The war would be launched from his lands, and he seemed ot have the young Electress of Ebenstadt well in his camp. No doubt, Sol thought he had plenty of authority and power, but every stallion had his weaknesses and Lieb knew what his were.
“Your Imperial Highness,” he said, bowing as he approached her.
“My lord of Sudgrenze!” she said happily beaming at him, playing the innocent maiden for the time being. He no doubt knew of her...proclivities, and this would discomfort him. The slight step back he took was all she needed to know it had worked. “What news do you bring me?”
“Preparations proceed on schedule your grace,” he said, quickly regaining his composure, but Lieb already had seen enough to know how to play him like a flute. “But ah...there are matters I would like to discuss with you.”
“Good, good...” she said, continuing in that cheerful, childish voice. “Please walk with me and tell me of them,” she said, nodding at her guards. “Leave me with him, in the antechamber,” she ordered. “Come along then!” she said, trotting off.
“I...of course, Your Majesty,” he said. He could not well refuse such a direct request from his own Empress, no matter how worried it made him, and as she skipped merrily along, Duke Sol following her Lieb smirked. Any schemes that he might have had were about to come crashing down.
“So, my Lord,” she said, as the door to the meeting room shut and the guards left them alone in the antechamber, still filled with the red light from outside. “What news do you have for me?”
“Forgive me your Majesty, but I can not give you good news,” he said. “Our pegasi report that the Akilans know...and they are ready.”
“Oh?” she said, nonchalantly, admiring a picture. “How unfortunate.”
“Your Majesty, thousands will die. Our attack will fail. I will not send my people to die for no reason,” he said, firmly. “The Electress Celestine agrees with me. We will not permit war to come to our lands.”
“Won’t you now?”
“No,” he said. “And we are not alone. Lutosland worries as well.”
“My dear Duke, you think that I do not know of their fears? And do you think I do not know that they all follow you?”
“Why I--”
“When the Gawdzendian Doom fell on us, those provinces lost most of their lords and nobility. You--Celestia be praised--survived,” Lieb said, turning to smile at him, her face still as innocent as a foals. “I wonder how?”
“I am not sure how relevant that is to any of--” he tried to speak, although Lieb spoke right over him.
“Might it have something to do with you...expeditions to the north?” she asked with a slight giggle to her voice. “All those maids of yours...and you send them into the chaos forests?” she continued.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, backing away from her, but Lieb chased after him, so that she stood staring into his face, her innocent smile turning into a wicked smirk. The red pouring through the windows played across her white fur like blood on snow.
“Of course you don’t,” she said, her breath drifting over her face. “You don’t know about that...secret room back in your palace where you watch what happens to them? Oh...what would your lady wife think! What would the Celestial Priests think!” she said, wistfully, bringing her hoof along his cheek.
“They would hang you out to dry. Your wife. Lutosland. Oh, that little filly who rules Ebenstadt might follow you to the end of her days...but I wonder how long those days are. Until you can find someway to plant someone close to you on her throne?” she asked.
Sol was trembling, despite towering over the Empress. He slowly collapsed back onto his haunches, to look up at her, his eyes full of emotions. ’Now’ Lieb thought as she gazed into those eyes.
“Oh don’t worry my dear!” she said with a laugh. “Your secrets are safe with me...I am always sure to reward my frieds,” she said, as she leaned closer, and kissed his horn gently. He seemed to jump as her lips touched, and trembled. “I reward in all sorts of ways...” she whispered, kissing him on his lips.
“You...you...”
“Me...me...what?” she asked, as she unclasped her cloak, letting it fall to the ground. “I will keep your secrets and reward you handsomely,” she said. “Provided you do as you are bid,” she said, again leaning close to kiss his horn, though this time she let her kiss linger. “Do we have an accord?”
The Duke’s whole body seemed to tremble, and his eyes were closed.
“Yes..yes your Majesty,” he finally whispered.
“Good,” Lieb replied. “Now stand still...” she said, as the last glimpse of Celestia’s red sun flashed through the windows, and the dark took its place.
The outbreak of the Celestial War can be lain on the hooves of one being, and one being alone: the Holy Regent Empress Lieb I von Ossvold of the Celestial Empire of Harmony. Lieb I had always been insecure on her throne, having secured her election only after the death of Emperor Wheathelm IV during what Celestials called ‘the Gawdzendian Doom’, and even then only by a narrowly decided vote of 7-6. The fact that the elector of the Church of Celestia died before she could cast a vote--widely considered to be a vote against Lieb von Ossvold--and the election was held before a replacement could be decided upon cast a great shade of doubt on Lieb’s legitimacy as Empress. A detailed investigation by both the Lightbringers and Nightstalkers could prove no connection between the electors death and Lieb or any of her assosciates, and both inquisitorial orders declared the newly elected Empress ‘free of heresy’, though the Church of Celestia remained suspicious of her, and thier suspicions only grew as Lieb I began to closen relations between the Celestial Empire of Harmony and the Greater Pony Herd. A growing discord in many of the more conservative provinces along with pressure from the Church of Celestia seemed to lead the Empire closer and closer to an open civil war between the Empress, and many of her subjects. Indeed, both sides had begun to marshall military forces, and the High Lady Solar of the Church of Celestia condemned both the Empress and the Lady of the Night for heresy against the will of the God Princess.
However, just as war seemed inevitable, a solution presented itself. The Gawdzendian Doom had left many of the Celestial Empire’s older families suffering from the potential for a complete pedigree collapse, as the number of potential suitors for the surviving nobility had dropped dramatically. Many families began to consider the possibility of marriages with only 1 degree of familial separation. In what is perhaps the most extreme case, the Margrave of Takelwald proposed a marriage between his own children, as almost all potential suitors had died. As a token for their support, Lieb I von Ossvold proposed to remove--by Imperial Edict--the centuries old Privilegium Nobilitis, which denied the legitimacy of foals born to marriages between the upper (Dukes, Archdukes, etc.) and lower (Count, Margrave, Baron, Knight, etc.) nobility, as well as the foals of any noble-commoner marriage. The proposed repeal would provide the opportunity for many of the families most stringently opposing her claim to the throne to not only expand and secure their dynasties, but also allow for a great deal of hard currency from wealthy merchants and other commoners to enter their pockets. Although some opposition remained to the repeal, the deal was accepted by the overwhelming majority of nobles at the Diet of Opestadt, although Lieb I was forced to forfeit many of the territories she had claimed for the Imperial Crown by Right of Devolution after the Gawdzendian Doom. However, the results of the Diet also presented a significant challenge to the future stability of the Empire.
The Diet had significantly strengthened many noble houses, providing them both with secure heirs, indivisible lands, and--in some cases--caused lands long divided between two branches to be reunited under one being. Making the situation even more tense, many of the marriage alliances that had kept the great houses of the Empire in relative peace with one another had either been destroyed by the Doom or forsaken for more tempting marriages after the Diet of Opestadt. Only five months after the Diet had spoken, a full scale armed clash occurred between the armies of Herzland and Lutosland over rights to the roads and trade rights of Lutoburg. The Battle of the Amber Ford as it was later known resulted in defeat for the Lutoslanders and soon enough, Lutosburg was besieged by Herzland, and the Herzlanders were beginning to demand the entire city be ceded. Only the appearance of the Empress, with the Imperial Army put an end to the battle, and the crisis was--temporarily--averted. However, the situation became increasingly unstable, and to many observers across all Poneria, it seemed that the Celestial Empire was about to fall--once again--into civil war.
The perception proved almost as damaging as the war that eventually broke out, as foreign businesses began to shy away from the Empire and foreign investment slowed to a trickle. The drying up of the capital stream from abroad put a further crimp on the Empire, as Lieb had borrowed heavily in order to fund a campaign of reform and centralisation across the Empire. To those within the Imperial Circle at Harmmonsdorf it became increasingly clear that drastic action was needed. The Electors and Princes of the Empire needed to be brought to heel, and--potentially-- have their power broken for good. New resources needed to be acquired and sources of income found in order to finance Lieb’s ambitions of a Celestial Empire united under her and her alone. Most importantly, the solution needed to be found soon, before some other crisis could erupt; one that would not be so easy to diffuse and before the financial situation became impossible to escape from.
Soon enough, a solution began to form in the halls of power in Harmmondorf. From the Palace of the Sun, the eyes of Lieb I von Ossvold and her Court turned across the Nordernte River to the Marshite Colony of Akila. With the Holy Marsh in civil war, the colony’s overlord was distracted, and Akila was weakly defended in its own right. More importantly, it was rich with vast resources and ponies who could be brought into the Empire as new provinces whose taxed wealth and trade would feed the necessary capital to the Imperial coffers. To the more cynical minded, a massive war--properly fought--would allow the Empress to bleed away the military strength of the noble houses, leaving them to weak to properly resist the Empress’s campaing of reform which was to follow. Soon enough, a decision was made. A coalition of southern lords, briefly led by Duke Sol of Sudengrenze publically opposed the war, but it soon collapsed when the Duke personally began to marshal his forces along the Akilan border. Diplomacy tried to assert itself, as the massive Celestial preparations did not go unnoticed, but they seemed fruitless. Across the continent and region, billions of beings held their breath...and waited.
