Masquerade was twenty six, physically. In actuality, she had turned twenty one over a thousand years ago. It had not been a happy birthday. She had finally joined the ranks of the Imperial guard after years of training. She had been so young and idealistic back then, intent that she could do something to reverse the fortunes of the declining capital of the Empire. Instead, she stood vigil over its death throes. Three hundred years after the princesses left to govern the colonies, the capital had grown increasingly irrelevant, its ruling council feuding under the influences of powerful regional lords vying for control and their own internal politics. Its authority thusly fractured, lordling ponies and vassals began paying more respect to the authority of this or that alicorn, and the Empire slowly decentralized.