XXIV: Plans and Premonitions
The room rang loud with the cheers and jeers of a gathered crowd.
“C’mon Celestia!”
“Put him down!”
“Show ‘er what for, Crumble!”
Sweat beaded generously on both their brows. Their arms and hooves trembled with a show of utmost exertion. Celestia had her eyes squinted nearly to a close, and her whole face was scrunched tight, as if her features were gravitating towards one central point. Apple Crumble was the opposite – his eyes were wide open, and his cheeks were puffed out as though he were about to burst.
“C’mon, Crumble!” Lieutenant Climber said, leaning in close. “I got five whole bits ridin’ on ya!”
“Blow off,” Crumble growled as forcefully as he could.
It had begun as a harmless thing. It was lunchtime for the 21st, and many friends had sat on their haunches around a set of long tables, talking and joking and eating their less-than-delicious meals. Many compliments had been sent Celestia’s way regarding her actions in Trotterdam only a week ago, especially when it came to her rescue of Lieutenant Sky. When they asked her to retell the story, she did, but with a healthy measure of humility. The last thing she wanted to do was boast.
But the listeners always wanted more than that, and so they filled in, embellished, exaggerated, until the makeshift cafeteria building had become more of a story hall. The hydra was larger than life itself, and breathed fire to boot. Celestia, and of course, their brilliant Commander Break, had beat it with no help whatsoever. The boulder that pinned Lightning’s wing had been a veritable mountain.
Upon hearing a wilder version of the tale, Apple Crumble had scoffed. “It wasn’t that big.”
“Oh?” Proudsong, a greyish pegasus with long ears and narrow eyes, had playfully punched at his superior’s shoulder. “Sounds like somepony’s jealous.”
Of course, Crumble had rebuffed him, protesting that it was a simple observation – a statement Celestia had guessed was probably true – but one thing led to another, and at the lighthearted teasing of others, the ordeal had been forcibly turned into a matter of honor. Now, here they were, Crumble and Celestia, hoof wrestling of all things.
“C’mon, Celly!” Cotton cheered beside Celestia. “Kick his flank!”
Celestia could barely hear her. All of her attention, energy, and willpower were focused into the muscles of her right arm. Through a curtain of eyelashes, she saw only blurry shapes; the white of her hoof wrapped around the red of his, and the ponies cheering around them. However, she felt it all, and really, all there was to feel was the strain. The push that went on without end, which end would only come if she pushed even harder.
So she did.
The crowd gave a collective “Ohhh!” as the equilibrium of their hooves was finally broken. To everypony’s surprise, including her own, it was in her favor. The cheering grew even louder, in both hopeful shouts and despairing pleas.
“No, no, no, no! C’mon, buddy! You gonna lose to a girl?” Climber said.
“Shut…” Crumble took a panting breath. “…up.”
Most of the room cheered for Celestia for two reasons: she was the “new favorite”, and she was the underdog. They wanted her to win because they did not expect her to.
“Ohhhh!” went the crowd as Crumble’s hoof was pushed even lower, hovering only inches above the table.
Of course, now that she was, they were all the more elated.
“One more push, Celly!” Cotton cried, her young, enthusiastic voice sounding pointedly out of place among the more mature-sounding voices of her comrades. “Use that earth pony strength!”
Earth pony strength, Celestia thought. The ability to occasionally perform feats of strength above one’s usual capacity. There was no way of really knowing if that was in her repertoire of yet to be fully discovered skills, but ponies always told her she possessed it. Still, she had always been uncertain about it, but now...
One look at Crumble’s massive arm being nearly pinned by her own, which seemed as thin as a stick in comparison, cast away any doubt she or anypony else might have possessed. Celestia was far from weak; her frame was lithe and slender, but athletic. Crumble, on the other hoof, was a veritable giant.
But even now, she was only inches away from winning. Just one… last… push…
“Go Celestia!”
“C’mon, you got it! You got it!”
“Just a little further!”
“Mail’s here!”
Celestia’s squinting eyes flicked towards the entrance of the makeshift cafeteria, briefly eying a confused mailpony laden with saddlebags, wandering towards the commotion. She said something to somepony below the noise, presumably asking what was going on.
She looked back. Crumble’s eyes were returning from the unexpected disturbance as well. His scowl deepened.
Celestia managed a thin, straining smile. Only seconds now…
“Ohhh!”
“Celestia, no!”
“Focus!”
Her smile vanished and eyes widened as she watched her hoof being pushed back into the air. She looked at Crumble, whose teeth were bared and grit, shining beneath his beard. Hooves quivering with effort, she intermittently grunted and groaned, while Crumble seemed to be in the midst of one prolonged growl. He steadily pushed her back, slowly but surely. Her hoof was tilted on the losing side, now.
“Push back!” somepony shouted.
She tried. That familiar earthen strength coursed inexplicably through her arms, her legs, her entire being, filling her veins and giving her new life, making each breath one of icy cold renewal and red-hot vitality. She pushed back-
“Awww!”
Crumble gave one last loud growl of extreme effort and slammed Celestia’s hoof on the lunch table beneath them. Trays and silverware clattered about from the force of it, and he released her immediately afterward.
“Awww…” the crowd groaned again, all the more let down once they knew it was finally over. They began conversing with one another as they returned to their tables, sharing comments and exchanging money. Despite their disappointment, it was all in good humor.
“Good try, Celestia!”
“Yeah, good try.”
“Sorry I ever doubted you, Lieutenant!”
"You owe me five bits, Celestia.”
Celestia chuckled. “I’ll be sure and remember that, North Star,” she said over her shoulder at one of the unicorns walking away. She turned back. “Good match, Crum…ble.”
He was already standing and walking away. Hearing her voice, he briefly turned back. “Oh, uh, you too, sunshine.”
Celestia tilted her head, and her brows slightly furrowed. He looked as fresh as springtime grass – not at all like he had just come out of a grueling battle of strength. By all rights, he should have been hobbling on his right leg. Celestia knew she would be for the next day or two.
“We’ll talk later, eh?” he said. With that, he walked away, addressing the mailpony before trotting out of the room, a newly obtained envelope in mouth.
Celestia cast him an odd look, and slowly turned back to the table. She looked at Cotton, who was still sitting beside her.
Slowly, Cotton met her gaze. “What?”
“What was that?” Celestia asked.
“Nothing.” Cotton’s face visibly scrunched, and her eyes flicked side to side. “Okay, so I took his sweet roll, big deal. It’s his fault he just left it on his plate there!”
“No, I mean what was… that?” She vaguely gestured to the direction Crumble had departed in. “How did he…? I really thought I was going to win.”
Cotton shrugged and picked up her sweet roll, dusting something off the top of it. “I guess he really likes his mail.” Cotton nibbled at the pastry in her hoof, lightly smacked her tongue while seeming to ponder something. Then she nodded, and took a huge bite.
Celestia smiled at Cotton, whose lips and chin were now covered in frosting. “I guess so,” she chuckled. “Who does Crumble get mail from?”
Cotton took another huge bite. “Hish wife, I tink,” she said, her mouth full of food.
“Huh,” Celestia said, nodding. After a moment, she asked, “Does Crumble have any children?”
Cotton shook her head. “Nope, an’ I-” She paused, swallowed, then continued. “Nope, and I’ve never met his family either. Cherry Tart has some family in Manehattan, I know... but I guess they’re refugees now.”
Or dead, Celestia glumly thought. She shook the feeling away, and they returned to their lunch.
The ponies of the 21st had to eat their meals in three different shifts, as the silverware was too scarce and the staff of the support company too small to accommodate everypony at once. Celestia always ate in the third hour, as she was usually preoccupied with what Cotton whimsically referred to as “poo patrol”, much to Celestia’s chagrin. Nevertheless, Cotton always made sure a bath was ready for her when she was done, and she always waited for Celestia before going to eat.
The cafeteria crowd was beginning to thin out, and with no hungry ponies to replace them, it was quickly becoming an empty room. The raucous chatter of only a few minutes ago became a dull, pleasant mumble, as pairs and trios of ponies remained about the room, spending the last moments of their free time speaking freely with their friends.
The ponies around Celestia herself had all filed out of the room in groups, until only she and Cotton remained. It usually happened this way. Cotton was a picky eater when it came to anything that was not to her level of preferred sweetness – which, as it stood, was anything not covered in powdered sugar, drizzled sugar, granulated sugar, or chocolate. How the young mare managed to remain healthy and robust, Celestia would never know.
“Would it kill you to eat something green?” Celestia asked, watching Cotton poke her spoon at a goopy mess of something on her plate.
“It would if it were poisoned,” Cotton replied in all seriousness. She took hold of her spoon with her magic, naturally stirring the slop until it was curled into swirly green mountain.
Celestia sighed, though she could not help but smile. In her defense, the food did not look very appetizing, though she had been told it was very nutritious. And easy to make.
“It’ll keep you strong!” Celestia encouraged. “All the soldiers eat it. See?” She pointed to her plate, which had been scraped clean. “I feel ready to take on another hydra!”
She straightened her back and flexed her arms, putting on her most heroic face. The effect was ruined when her right arm fell unceremoniously limp, still weak from wrestling with Crumble.
Rather than becoming excited with her, as Celestia expected her to, Cotton was now focusing on her meal more than ever. She rested her head on one hoof against the table, scrunching her cheek against her face. She scowled as she shaped her meal, swirling, molding, and poking at it until it seemed to take the shape of a miniature playground; but not once did she take a bite.
“You’re part of the 4th Company,” Celestia offered, returning to her normal sitting position. “Maybe the cook would be willing to accept some help?”
“I already tried,” she murmured. “She doesn’t think my cooking would make for a ‘balanced meal’.”
Cotton tore off a bit of Crumble’s sweet roll, ground it up into crumbs, and sprinkled it all over her green… soup, Celestia finally decided it was. Very thick soup. Eying her new creation for a moment, Cotton finally took a bite of it, and grimaced.
Celestia’s first reaction was to ask what exactly disqualified Cotton’s cooking, but she stopped herself. Something was off. Cotton looked to be in a normal mood – ‘normal’ being relative. If she were anypony else, Celestia would have let it go, but the days that Cotton looked anything but happy, or at least content, must have been dark days indeed, even if Celestia did not know why.
“Hey,” Celestia said, setting her elbows on the table and leaning towards Cotton. Her voice laced with curiosity and concern. “Are you okay?”
Cotton took a bite of soup, chewed it around in her mouth for a bit, and then swallowed. Her eyes wandered down to below the table.
“I’m a little scared,” she said. It was almost whisper.
“Scared?” Celestia repeated. “Is that all? There’s no need to be scared, you’re safe here. The Maiden’s Battalion is the best there is.” She nudged Cotton with her elbow, who made no reaction, except to limply sway with the motion. “Besides, I’m here! It’s like you said before we left, you’ll always have me to protect-”
“No.”
Celestia stopped her nudging, and leaned back. “Huh?”
Cotton looked up at her. “No. Celly. I’m scared for you.”
“Scared for…” Celestia gave a helpless grin. “Don’t worry about me, Cotton. I’m strong enough to take care of myself! C’mon, you saw me arm wrestle Crumble, right?”
Cotton looked back down at her tray. “You lost…”
“But I almost won!” Celestia exclaimed, holding herself with bravado and flashing a sappy grin.
Cotton was not convinced. She did not respond, and had resumed lifelessly poking at her food.
Celestia’s grin faded as soon as she saw her, and she suddenly felt very stupid for doing so.
“Hey,” she said to Cotton in a near-whisper, again leaning towards her. “Hey. Look at me.” Cotton looked even further downward. “No, look at me.” Celestia reached for her chin and pulled it to face her, meeting only token resistance.
Their eyes met, and Celestia saw something in Cotton’s gaze that was very peculiar. It was sadness. Cotton was sad. It was subtle, but certainly there. Her brows were raised inward, her frown was just slightly too deep, and her eyes seemed to reflect it. Celestia had seen it once before, and she had never wanted to see it again.
“Listen,” Celestia said, using her other hoof to grab Cotton’s shoulder. “I’ll be okay. I will be o-kay.” She enunciated every word, quietly but firmly, wanting more than anything to make her believe it. Cotton tried to look down and away, but Celestia would not let her.
“Okay?”
There was a pause. The rest of the lunchroom clattered pleasantly on, oblivious to them.
Cotton’s gaze flickered about, back and forth, as if she were in deep thought about something. After a while, her despondent eyes turned upwards at Celestia, hovering there for a few tense seconds before seeming to brighten, if only by degrees.
“Okay,” she mumbled.
Celestia gave a small smile. “Yeah?”
And Cotton merely nodded her head. A moment later, they met in a quick hug, Cotton hanging her chin over Celestia’s shoulder. She heard Cotton sniffle, and squeezed tighter. She was not even entirely sure why Cotton was so upset.
Now I’m the one comforting Cotton, Celestia whimsically thought. Who would have guessed?
Eventually, they broke apart and, at Cotton’s prompting, shared a genial smile.
“Now, would you eat your soup?” Celestia playfully demanded.
“Soup? It’s not soup, it’s mush.”
They laughed, and resumed chatting while Cotton went on not eating her food, the air about them significantly lightened. The cafeteria was very nearly empty when a certain earth pony approached them. Celestia immediately stiffened.
“Commander,” Celestia quietly addressed, nodding.
“Hi, Lucky!” Cotton waved.
Lucky seemed significantly less excited to see them. “Hello,” he muttered. He threw a small bag onto the table in front of Cotton. It jingled as it hit. “Here’s your bits, Cotton.”
“Thank you, Lucky!” Cotton said with a smile, grabbing the bag and weighing it in her hoof.
The Commander gave a noncommittal grunt. He gave one last look at Celestia, seeming, for some reason, very annoyed. Shortly, he turned and walked away.
Celestia sighed and relaxed herself. “What was that about?” Celestia asked, eying the bag with curiosity.
Cotton stowed it in one of her nearby saddlebags, and shrugged. “Oh nothing. I guess I won a bet.”
“Oh.”
Celestia fell silent. Cotton, for no reason at all, was smiling to herself, flashing a sly grin that she seemed to have trouble hiding.
“I think I’m finished,” Cotton said through poorly stifled giggles. “I’ll meet you at our tent later.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. “Okay.”
They both got up from the table, deposited their plates to be cleaned, and walked outside, saying their goodbyes as they parted ways to their respective duties.
Minutes later, Celestia’s eyes widened.
“Hey!”
**********
Cotton was very clever.
Her mind worked extraordinarily quickly, reflecting a level of intelligence that ponies had only just begun to suspect and appreciate. “Engineer Cake” had quite the ring to it, in her opinion. But that was only one side of it.
Cotton saw things that nopony else saw. Social and intellectual intelligence were two separate things, but together, they made for a wonderfully fresh view of the world. Sometimes, however, that view was painful. Honest perspective never changed the world. It only allowed her to see things as they were. To see the truth. And sometimes, the truth was uncomfortable.
Cotton turned in her bed. The night was dark, and she was far from home; yet, as poor as circumstances were, she did not pine for her beloved house or workshop. What she missed was simplicity.
“The truth shall set you free.” That’s how the saying went. Well, what was so great about the truth, anyways? Or being free, for that matter? She imagined herself in a cage, with the door wide open. Out that door could have been anything. Who would want to be set free into, say, a monster-infested forest? Or a lake swimming with sharks? In her restless, half-conscious thoughts, she felt some scorn for the idea.
Celestia stirred in the bunk adjacent. It was a peaceful sound, like a sigh and a grumble mixed with the gentle rustling of blankets. It was nice.
Cotton felt herself falling asleep. Her mind, however, was wide awake, an inconvenience that she knew would carry over into her dreams.
She could remember charging off to Trotterdam, alone, her saddlebags full of metal knickknacks banging against her ribs, and not a single one of them a weapon. Some things had fallen out by accident; she still could not find her quarter-inch torque wrench. She had been so worried. So, so worried. Of course, when she had finally arrived, out of breath and close to collapsing, Celestia had been fine.
Cotton had wondered at her. Perfectly fine. Sporting some new cuts and bruises, sure, and covered in blood that was not her own, but Celestia was perfectly fine.
But she was not, somehow, and Cotton knew it.
Her breathing – too excited. Her stance – too poised. Her mannerisms after it was all said and done – so very slightly abrasive. And worst of all, those faint, rosy eyes that were so foreign, they could not have belonged to the mare Cotton knew.
They were small tells, to be sure, and most ponies would easily miss them. Even to the pony that did see and acknowledge them, they probably meant nothing, or else, it simply appeared to be the temperament of a soldier after battle. It was certainly nothing that a logical pony like Clover would take her word for.
But Cotton was very clever, and in more ways than one.
In some ways, maybe even smarter than Clover herself.
And for all her intelligence, she was scared.
Scared of the truth that lay just beyond the door.
Cotton fell into dreams, swallowed whole by the color red.
**********
“Alright, alright. Quiet down and listen up.”
The room was small and crowded. Likely, it had once been a small diplomatic meeting place, set below the ground floor of Trotterdam’s town hall as it was. Now, it was their war room. The seats were multi-tiered and arranged in a semicircle, almost like a miniature stadium. It reminded some of the classrooms of the Canterlot Academy, which it had likely been modeled after. Celestia thought it looked terribly like the Canterlot courthouse.
Dozens of pegasi, a few unicorns, one earth pony, and one alicorn very nearly filled the room to its intended capacity. Celestia found herself with room enough to comfortably shift about, and not much else.
“Hey. Hey! You in the back. Whisper Sun. Shut it.”
Finally, the room fell acceptably silent, and Lucky Break cleared his throat.
“Alright, soldiers, pay attention. What you are about to hear is of extreme importance.”
Celestia noticed that everypony seemed to straighten up a little more, herself included. She especially was anxious to hear what came next. To think that Lieutenant Sky had hoof-picked her for some special, pegasus-only mission… it set her heart racing with excitement. Finally, she would be able to be of some use!
Sitting on their haunches at the front of the room, Lieutenants Apple Crumble, Lightning Sky, Spell Trick, and Climber all sat next to each other, listening to Lucky’s words just as readily as anypony else. All of them, including Lucky himself, were dressed in their red jackets, though they wore them loosely and informally. Lucky sported a few open buttons near the collar, Crumble’s cuffs were rolled up to his elbows, Trick’s jacket was just messy and wrinkled, and Climber had not bothered to button up at all. Only Lightning seemed to sport an immaculate appearance.
“As I’m sure you all know,” Lucky continued, “the Middle Antlertic coastal region is our current major area of interest. More specifically, our next target is the island city of Manehatten.”
Behind him, Crumble finished unrolling a giant map and pinned it to the wall for everypony to see. On it was a close-up, detailed depiction of the large city of Manehatten, along with some of the surrounding area.
“The city has been under enemy control for nearly five months now. As such, much of it is destroyed, corrupted, or has otherwise been rendered useless. Reconnaissance indicates these sections…” He pointed to a few shaded regions of the map. “…are no longer serviceable or feasible for short-term repair. Still, Manehatten stands as one of the last major footholds on the coastal front. It also still has potential as a trading port with the griffons, when the waters become safe. In any case, I doubt I need to remind you how important retaking it is.”
There were a few nods of assent around the room. When Celestia muttered a question to the pegasus on her left, a friendly, bushy-maned mare named Pastel, she responded by telling her that Manehatten had been established as a trading town to begin with. Many of the goods that originated from the griffon nation of Aquileos ended up passing through Manehatten, the closest and most convenient port city to their own shores. The frequent commerce had seen the city grow until it was the biggest in the entire Equestrian nation, in both size and population. Its size was peculiar for an eastern “frontier” settlement, though some took it as a favorable sign of Equestria’s industry and power.
“Of course, that’s all in the past, now,” Pastel remarked sadly. “Manehatten has been out of our possession for months now, and the griffons aren’t exactly in a position to trade. Even then, the waters aren’t exactly safe right now. Sea serpents, and all.”
Celestia frowned and nodded knowingly, turning back to Lucky Break as he resumed speaking.
“However, there’s something else.”
Lucky retreated the short distance back to the map, grabbing a charcoal pencil off a nearby table. Carefully, he drew a shape onto the map, tracing the square edges of some of the buildings until a small geometric area near the far corner of Manehatten had been outlined. Gently, he set the pencil back down, and looked at the room of pegasi before him. He seemed to hesitate before speaking.
“They have hostages.”
There was a silence, followed by a sudden ripple of murmurs went throughout the assembly. Discord had left ponies alive? On purpose? It was unheard of. Celestia was shocked, her immediate reaction being to doubt the idea. She knew she was not the only one. Somepony finally spoke up.
“Hostages, sir?” a stallion voiced from the opposite side of the room. “Pardon me for asking, sir, but is this information reliable?”
Lucky looked his way, and gravely nodded. “Quite reliable. We have yet to make it general knowledge to the Equestrian public, but there’s an entire section of the city that’s simply been quarantined by the enemy.” He pointed to the outlined area of the map. “This series of buildings right here in the northern port district, along with the perimeter the drawn line encompasses, is filled with civilians.”
“How many?” somepony else asked.
Lucky looked towards Apple Crumble, and nodded. The red pegasus smoothed his blonde beard, raised himself to his hooves, and stepped forward.
“We estimate a rough one-thousand,” he said, his gravelly voice not softening for sake of bluntness.
Another wave of chatter, slightly louder than the first, echoed through the group.
Lucky stepped back, sweeping his arm forward and motioning for Crumble to officially take the floor. He did, and the Commander took a seat in the corner of the room, his eyes scanning the assembly of pegasi, and Celestia.
“As we’ve said before,” Crumble began, pacing back and forth, “the city’s been under hostile control fer nearly five months. That means these hostages have been livin’ fer five long, miserable months under capture. An’ those livin’ conditions are not good. Any who have tried to escape have been, as far as we know, killed in the process.”
Crumble stopped, and pointed to the map. “The hostages are, in every sense o’ the word, quarantined. They can move along these borders and no further, meanin’ they’ve been cut off from supply for a good long while. The sinisteeds don’t provide for ‘em, neither. They’ve been allowin’ us to airdrop supplies to that section of the city, with the understandin’ that it feeds their hostages with no effort on their part, and is a drain on our own resources. That said,” he grumbled, “they don’t always reach their intended destination.”
Somepony a few rows away from Celestia mildly raised their hoof. Crumble nodded towards them.
“The hordes have never done this before,” a male voice asked. “What reason would they have for keeping hostages?”
Crumble resumed his pacing, occasionally stroking at his beard. “We assume it’s supposed to be a deterrent. The battle of Manehatten will be hard-fought no matter which way yeh paint it. We’ve been massing troops to this location for some time now, and so have they – when the time comes, both sides are expected to take heavy losses. They don’t want us to attack, and they think the threat of civilian bloodshed will be enough to keep us away.”
And they’re right, Celestia thought. She gazed around the room, gauging ponies reactions. For the most part, they were professional and mature, the occasional surprised reaction aside. Her eyes wandered over towards Lucky, who she found was already looking back at her. Both of their gazes immediately shifted away.
The same pegasus spoke up again. “I guess I know why,” he said, “I just wonder why they haven’t done this before.”
“Couldn’t tell yeh, Proudsong,” Crumble gruffly replied. “Yeh can ask ‘em yerself when yeh get there.”
There were a few snickers around the room before Crumble resumed.
“Now, we’ve had other angles of attack in the past, but we’ve never gone through with it, solely because we’ve dared not to. Not with that many innocent lives at risk. Five months ago, Manehattan was one of the single worst losses in Equestrian history... and one of the single biggest massacres of innocent civilians. The hierarchy wouldn’t stand fer any more bloodshed in that city, and neither would the public, if they knew. And neither would any of us, I wager.”
A small grin appeared beneath his bushy beard. “But now, the conditions are as good as they’re gonna get, and you pegasi are gonna be the ones to secure their freedom.”
Celestia suddenly felt strangely out of place. Technically, she was not a pegasus. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucky’s gaze having come to rest upon her again. Even when she deliberately looked away, she seemed to feel the pressure of it.
“Conditions are good, sir?” somepony asked.
“Aye, that they are,” Crumble nodded. “Who can tell me why?”
The room was silent as Crumble gazed from left to right, watching as some of his soldiers puzzled over the wall-mounted map, while others simply sat back and waited for the answer.
A muted mumble could be heard.
“What was that, Celestia?”
Celestia casually looked away, feeling a blush come to her face. She had not meant to say it that loud. She answered again before too many eyes could fall upon her.
“Draft?” she voiced.
Crumble raised his eyebrows and hummed in approval. “If you mean to say the cloud city of Draft has finally been able to maneuver within operational range, then yes, yeh are correct.”
A few other pegasi nodded their approval while Celestia kept her gaze elsewhere.
Crumble pulled another map, larger and zoomed-out, over the tactical map of Manehatten. “These past few months, Draft has been unable to get close enough to create hostile weather patterns over Manehatten, but now that we’ve taken Trotterdam, the enemy forces are thin enough to ensure its relative safety. As we speak, Manehatten is beset by a furious, driving thunderstorm. Extremely disruptive, but non-lethal. The weatherponies have enough material to make it last for another three days.”
“So we’re attacking under cover of stormclouds, then,” a mare called Cloudsinger stated.
“In a manner o’ speakin’.” Crumble nodded, retrieved the pencil, and made a series of X’s on the regional map. “The 7th , 13th, and 21st divisions will be spearheading the assault on three fronts approaching the city, backed by a massive force of regulars. After the initial blow, which will be attempted in stealth, the full scale assault can begin.”
Crumble paused. “There’s more to it than that.” He turned around and slowly set the pencil down before looking back up to address them. “And that’s where you lot come in.”
The assembled pegasi exchanged some meaningful glances, Celestia included. And yet, even as she shared in the anxiety, camaraderie, and even enthusiasm of her company, she again felt that inexplicable pressure coming from the edge of her vision. She looked to see Lucky, again looking at her – and this time, neither pony looked away.
He did not seem to be looking at her, but rather… at her. Like an object. His gaze did not seem hateful, or spiteful – only searching, as though he were examining a new weapon with morbid curiosity. Like he was interested to see what she was capable of.
A weapon, Celestia thought, shaking her head and retracting her own mental comparison. He said I was just a weapon. Well I sure showed him, didn’t I?
Until the brief moment had passed and Crumble began presenting his plan, they both just stared, searching, quite certain the other pony possessed the answers they wanted – and frustrated they would not give them up.
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any more after this?
Freaking sweetrolls.
I have decimated the populations of just about every town because of those damn guards taunting me with that.
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Yep!
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I won't judge you. They're practically asking for it.
Hoard ALL the sweet rolls
24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m831laP7rq1qbbhjpo1_500.jpg
1921330
Elsewhere, in Cotton's workshop...
files-cdn.formspring.me/photos/20111204/n4edbda7dd15de.jpg
aa the calmness before the storm. It always leaves you with a feeling of anticipation because you know the next chapter is going to be intense. btw I have this feeling that the quarantine in Manehattan is because somepony has an element of harmony spark... Which totally does not make sense but meh.
ok... sweet rolls must have been from a game I haven't played...
Good chapter! Can't wait for moar!
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Well, sweetrolls are still a real item, but the references are to Skyrim. I just needed a sweet item for Cotton to steal that wouldn't be too out of place in the makeshift cafeteria of a traveling army, and "sweetroll" was the first thing that came to mind.
That said, there's more going on in this chapter than just "there was a sweetroll", you guys!
Yay! Update!!
Hmm, my only guess it's two ways
the ponies are served as lunch for the changelings/sinisteed
2) they are the sinisteeds/changeling cover to look like ponies
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#2 sounds very likely. VERY likely. Yet something tells me it's not that simple.
@#$*@#&^$!!! COMPUTER IMAGE DECODER IS INADEQUATE!
Cotton sees Daylight coming to the surface, I suppose?
And that, children, was how the staring contest began.
She scowled as she shaped her meal, swirling, molding, and poking at it until it seemed to take the shape of a miniature playground; but not once did she take a bite.
This means something. This is important.
I don't think I understand the bit at the front, it's implied that lucky bet on Celestia and cotton bet on crumble, correct? Lucky wasn't mentioned as being in the room though, so when did they make the bet? If it was beforehand, how did they know about the impromptu future arm wrestle? If he was in the room and they made it during the arm wrestle, why didn't Celestia notice?
Got a new, darker theory for Celestia's origin as well. What if the spell went wrong, and summoned Celestia on mistake? What if the spell was supposed to bring Daylight back as an alicorn, and Celestia just came along for the ride somehow? Bringing back Daylight the alicorn seems like it would be a massive win for the ponies, enough to be willing to risk a great deal going wrong. It explains why lucky and clover treat her the way they do, as Celestia while looking for hints of daylight. It explains the dreams and the voice in her head, as well as her fighting abilities. It explains the eyes changing color, and the moral quandary that lucky now faces. If he encourages the change over to more daylight, won't that be less Celestia?