• Published 27th May 2012
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Fallout Equestria : New Roam - Delvius



The city of Roam is tortured by ambient and open hostility. Finally, a Praetorian arises to protect the city like the Legionnaires of old, and nothing will stop him. Nothing but himself, that is.

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Chapter 19 - The Enemy of My Enemy

Chapter 19
The Enemy of My Enemy
"Only together shall we succeed. Only together shall we triumph. Only together shall we overcome. That is why we fight."





The Colosseum itself had been changed quite a bit from how it was like in ancient times. First off was the fact that it was bigger; an additional added layer of marble, presumably placed during or before the war, was to be thanked for that. Second were the very large screens and speakers placed on the interior on each of the four sides, though from their look those were probably added after the apocalypse. And of course there was the fact that the Colosseum did not look like it had been used as a killing field for the past two-thousand years; rather, it looked like it had been turned into an innocent stadium, and certainly the addition of now-weathered backrests to the seats and the husks of little stores built into the old structure supported this. Those only served to confirm the answer for the question 'was the Colosseum used for slaughter by the pre-war and post-classical ages zebras?'


But I didn't much care for any of that at the moment. Instead, I let the anger I was feeling simmer in my mind, threatening to burst out in a frenzy of enraged slaughter. I wanted to gut every single savage within a five mile radius just to sate my fury. Life was filled with occurrences where the barbaric and the unworthy in mind and action took control of circumstance, and it infuriated me to know that even in Roam such things could happen. It infuriated me that mongrels like these got to decide the fate of those naturally their equal, not their servants. And it fanned the flames of my hatred to know that petty politics kept Roam's troops from beheading all the savages that had spawned in her territory.


The Colosseum's original barbaric purpose had once more been brought to the fore.


Almost every single inhabitant of Castellum Colossei occupied the seats of the massive arena, clamoring in disgusting vigor out of excitement for the coming event and filling out about a third of the Colosseum's total capacity. Opportunistic merchants roamed about, selling food for the crowd to feast upon as they waited. It only served to intensify my deepening loathing of the Equestrius troops to see that they were allowing the crowd to stay in their seats rather than forcing them out. Redeye's slavers were among them, taking no care at all for the vandalism that the crowd's rowdiness was doing to the thousand year-old marble and brick seats. The non-Roaman zebras sat in high places and seats of honor, much to my disgust. They didn't deserve such privileges; in fact, Roam did not deserve to have its bloody blot brought back from the past!


Organizing all this primal glee was this one pony who sat within the pavilion emperors would have sat in on the far side of the Colosseum, halfway to the top of the of the height of the structure. He was a an aqua-blue unicorn with a mane of darker blue streaked with the color of mint. Upon his coat he wore what only people of honor and worth should have: purple robes, which hung down from his back to touch the dirt on the floor. I wanted to fly over there and gut him where he sat, then toss his corpse onto the Colosseum floor for all of these degenerates to see.


From the looks on the faces of the auxiliaries who stood behind me under the arched entrance, similar anger and intent was brewing in their heads. Their's may have been more intense even, taking into account that they had perhaps fought to liberate this place before. Venaius and Delvius in particular looked especially hateful; the others had a look of disgust and disappointment instead.


The aqua-blue pony within the pavilion on the other side of the Colosseum looked the gathering masses over and stomped hard onto the ground. An echoing thump resonated through the Colosseum floor, and the crowd steadily silenced. The excitement on their faces remained, though; this was the moment they had been waiting for.


A slaver stallion entered the pavilion accompanied by two zebra mares carrying what appeared to be a metal tray upon which was some kind of flagon. There was food, too; mostly what the merchants had been selling, though I noticed that these had been acquired without purchase. The mares placed the dishes down onto a small table and took their place on the two corners of the room while the stallion handed the aqua-blue pony what appeared to be a headset.


He placed it onto his head, and after a moment a live image of his face appeared on every screen around the Colosseum's four sides. Then with a charismatic smile and a confident, proud voice that echoed through the air he announced, "Good noon, most esteemed zebras and ponies! And welcome to the one and only COLO-SEEEEEUUUUMMM!" He raised a hoof into the air, and the crowd burst into thunderous cheers of excitement. The Roamana auxiliaries and I, though, were seething even as we watched that proud smile on his face; that confident smirk that I so wanted to tear away...


The stallion looked over the crowd again, and stomped the ground once more. Cries and cheers faded into a tense silence, and he continued, "Today, I am glad to say, is yet another day I get to play host to such a revered and much anticipated sport of the zebra people. Why, we of the empire of Redeye owe to it our own version back in our home turf. Credit where it is due, yes?"


His eyes widened and he gasped, as if surprised. He facehoofed. "Ah, but I forget my manners! First, my name for those who have only recently arrived in Castellum Colossei. I am Seashore, ambassador of Redeye and proud host of this populace's desired spectacle: gladiatorial combat!" He stepped forward and leaned over the edge of the pavilion, and extended a hoof to point at the non-Roaman zebras sitting near the top seats. "And of course, let us welcome our prestigious guests! Representatives and proud warriors, they! With their aid, this conglomerate coalition of languishing people can turn into a worthy faction, fit to survive and thrive within the harshness of wasteland life. Give them cheers!"


"Ungrateful savages!" Delvius growled, and it was almost unheard as the crowd burst out into impassioned cheering. "These people wouldn't even be alive without the Legion's support and resources, yet they dare to bite the offer of one so deceitful as a slaver? Are they blind?" He looked over the flattered and proud-looking non-Roaman zebras with rage, then at the crowd in general with similar hate. "All this madness is to earn the support and sympathy of barbarians such as they... it truly disappoints me."


"It disappoints me as well," Bailan huffed. "If these people honestly think that a far-off slave master and his rag-tag group of inter-city tribals are better equipped to protect and serve them than we who are right here and care for them despite their hate, then Roaman minds have truly degenerated. I weep for the loss of our past."


The five auxiliaries alike showed great resentment and disgust towards the wrongness of what was transpiring, and as a result three of them stomped out in anger as they muttered something about needing to breathe clean air or something along those lines. Only Delvius and Gravetanicus remained, and only the latter seemed to have himself under control enough that he wouldn't go berserk.


"Come," Gravetanicus said simply, "Let us observe how this event occurs."


We followed him, though I suspect we did so only to intensify our anger, and sat down on some empty space on the lowest seat rings. We were met with disdainful looks and snorts of disgust as we went, and one of the zebras who spotted us even had the audacity to place his hindlegs onto the empty space just to try to stop us. Gravetanicus gave him a momentary look of disappointment, and the zebra frowned and sat appropriately.


"Now," Seashore announced, "This is my third hosting of this event, and I have learned from my past mistakes of carrying on for too long. Let us not tarry, ONWARD TO THE BLOODSPORT!" He stomped on the ground hard, and the crowd cried out in a deafening cacophony of mad cheers and whistles. The Roaman zebras on the upper levels even took the effort to rain down torn plastic bags as confetti, showering the entire Colosseum with a haze of colorful streamers.


The spiked gates on walls of the arena itself groaned as they lowered. At once a dozen zebras wearing cobbled together steel armor and armed with scrap metal weapons and shields were pushed out from both the gates and fell to the ground in a heap. Before they could try to rush back into the gates, several of Redeye's troops came out and had barrels to their heads. The gladiators showed signs of wanting to fight back, but it was clear that they wouldn't. It sickened me that all this was happening; real gladiators may have been slaves, but at least they were actually treated with some level of respect and had some freedom of choice. This, though... these slaves were given absolutely no say in the matter.


What struck me about the gladiators as they were herded towards the center of the arena was their variety; there was NO variety. They were all Roaman zebras, much to the visible enjoyment of the tribals sitting near the top seats. Others seemed to notice this too, especially the Equestrius troops. They looked disgusted, angered, sad even. Perhaps they didn't approve of the situation themselves but simply couldn't do anything about it. Well, unless they tried to put a stop to this madness, then my opinion of them wouldn't change much.


Once at the center, all the zebras were forced to kneel down by their slaver masters. After that they were made to turn around and look Seashore and the many tribal zebras seated above his position. I could see the sadistic smirks of those savages as they looked the slaves over; it sickened me. Even worse was the fact that no one in particular seemed to think that any of this was wrong.


"Ah, and here we have our willing volunteers!" Seashore proclaimed haughtily. "These stallions and mares, good people, have all decided that their lives are nothing if not used for the entertainment of the community. For their noble sacrifice, we give a single one of them a chance to earn freedom from their debts! And for THAT, we cheer them on! What say you?" Like before, the crowd burst out into impatient and rowdy screams. The slaves on the arena floor, though, yelled up in hatred and fear. Sadly their pleas were lost in the crowd's noise.


Seashore stood there for a moment, sucking up all the cheering as though it were a personal thing for him. But at last he stomped hard enough to get the crowd's attention -- this time they didn't stop cheering, though -- and announced proudly, "So what do we wait for? NOTHING! Let the slaughter begin!"


It was at that point that I had to cover my ears to prevent going deaf. If this was the noise a mere third of the Colosseum's possible capacity could make -- and with a crowd not purely for the sport itself -- I could only imagine how it must have been back in ancient Roam. Delvius and Gravetanicus likewise showed pain at the crowd's incessant rowdiness.


The slaves had no choice at this point. When the screaming finally died down a notch and I could stop wincing from the ringing in my ears, I looked and saw that they were nervously forming a circular formation. To make it worse was the fact that not all of them looked ready or even willing to try to fight; some looked like they had lost hope. Unless someone in their ranks rallied them against what foes they would face, these people wouldn't stand a chance.


Seashore drew himself up with a loud inhale and let out with a strangely formal tone, "Now, whereas before we all started with having the slaves kill each other in teams, now I decided to add a bit of this great continent's wildlife into the fray." He leaned over the edge and looked at a gate on the far side of the arena, a gate I figured must have been right beneath where I sat. "Release the bestials!" he bellowed a he pointed at our direction.


Growls and roars boomed through the earth as the gate opened, and soon enough a group of three very large grey cats pounced out and were herded closer to the center with energy-tipped spears. Compared to the one that had nearly bitten my leg off in Myst's outpost, these ones were MUCH larger. The majority of the gladiators were trembling and some even broke formation until forced back in by those of them who seemed too determined to survive to let anyone compromise their formation.


"Ah, bestials!" Seashore mused. "Such savage creatures, aren't they? So large, so fierce... so fearsome! Truly are they the deadliest of this continent's many wild cats, and so shall they be a worthy opponent for such brave souls! Ah, but enough of that; let us quiet ourselves in anticipation!"


At last the bestials were brought before the shivering circle of desperate slaves. The cats roared and growled at their herders as they back-stepped away in a brisk canter, but when they were safely away the animals' gazes fell upon the meat before them. The crowd steadily silenced, eager to watch the spectacle about to unfold before their eyes.


"So it begins..." Seashore's voice receded into a dramatic low.


It all started rather slowly, really. The bestials prowled around, encircling the trembling formation with predatory caution. The crowd flinched and gasped at every examining lunge and foreboding growl from the beasts, and laughed at every nervous twitch or frantic thrust of a spear from the part of the slaves. This was some seriously fucked up foreplay, and the crowd loved it. I could feel their tension building up, their anticipation clouding and entering into my mind. I myself could only watch with anxiety, stuck wondering how this would turn out.


Then without warning one of the bestials leapt up into the air and landed right in the center of the hollow circular formation. Surprise and terror filled the slaves' ranks, and the majority of them reflexively whirled around in panic.


This was the moment the other two beasts were waiting for. Without spears and scrap metal swords threatening to pierce them, they charged forward and crashed into the backs of the slaves. The crowd roared applause and laughter as the weaker-willed slaves galloped away. Those who remained behind could only panic and try to fight off the animals as they pounced on one slave after the other, tearing open rib cages, severing limbs, and biting out throats. Panicked shouts ensued as some attacked, only to be tripped from underneath by the swiping tails of the cats they fought. Then they too had teeth in their flesh, and could only scream as their muscles were strewn about.


I looked away, and for half a minute listened only to the death screams of what must have been seven of the twelve. I shivered, and I was thankful that the crowd's cheers and gasps of delight drowned out some of the noise. At last, I looked back, hopes not high at all.


None of them stood much of a chance, even when they had regained the barest bit of their group cohesion. They could only get up, dismembered and mutilated in one way or another, stagger away a bit, then get clawed at and eviscerated. This was no fight, it was a slaughter -- and yet the crowd loved it. Only those who had ran survived the initial onslaught, and even then not for long; sooner or later, the same claws and fangs that tore the others to shreds would come for them.


There was no hope for these people.


And yet... and yet out of the bloodbath and spilled guts came a slave, a whirling tornado of glimmering steel and slashing blades. He was calm yet savage, strong in will and certain in motion. His thrusts landed true on their targets, and one bestial got a spearhead right in its eye and howled with pain. As the creature struggled to scamper away, he galloped over to it and, picking up a sword off the ground as he went, jumped upon it and plunged the blade into its skull. The creature roared and fell to the ground, with him yanking the blade out of its head.


The other two bestials looked at him with ferocious, terrifying eyes. His reaction was to pick up a flail off the ground and twirl it in the air provocatively, the sword still in his other hoof. I couldn't tell who this guy was underneath his helmet, but he had some serious skill. And from the looks of the astonished crowd, they definitely didn't expect the fight to turn out this way.


A bestial leapt, and in response he sidestepped and smacked the spiked ball of the flail into its head. It howled and swiped at him with its claws, but he sliced off its leg even before the sharp lengths could scratch at his manica -- that is, the Roaman soldier's limb-covering plates. The creature stumbled forward and fell into the ground, and he took the opportunity jump up and sever its head from its body.


Then the final bestial jumped, and with ferocious speed pounced on him before he could whirl around. They crashed onto the dirt floor with a thud, with the wild cat scratching and snapping savagely at the gladiator's helmet and leg-guard. Despite the ferocity of the attack, he was brave enough to even use one of his limbs as a meat shield for the creature to bite upon. The other hoof he snaked across the ground, and it managed to chance upon a torn-off spiked shoulder plate. His hoof tightened around the metal.


With the first strike a shard of metal was stuck into the creature's eye. With the second he broke off one of the bestial's terrifying fangs and sent its head recoiling from the force of the impact. With the third he tore off half its face, eliciting a roar of pain so loud it echoed across the nearly silent arena.


He didn't waste a second. He got up as soon as he could, forelegs bloody and chest torn, and picked up half of a broken spear. Then, without hesitation or signs of pain, he turned around and lodged the metal tip down the creature's throat. It died instantly and fell to the ground limp.


He stood there for a second, his chest puffing in and out as he panted. Then he looked all of us over, and his helmet, shaped to look like a scowling zebra head, lingered on every single one of us with hatred. We all stared back in shock, even the surviving three gladiators down in the arena. Seashore's face on each of the screens was one of total bewilderment. There was only scattered murmuring and whispers, but otherwise no cheering...


... until about ten seconds later. As though a hivemind, the amassed population suddenly burst out into an ear-splitting plethora of whistles and screams. Overly-energetic zebras and ponies clamored and burst out jumping up and down like mindless savages. Confetti rained from the sky. Seashore's lips curled into a forced smile, and as I watched the screens he nervously brought up a mug and took a deep chug.


"A spectacular show," he murmured idly into the mouth piece as he put the mug down. "Truly a... a far better one than the previous fights." He put on another smile, this one seeming less forced and seemed more to appeal to the crowd. "I honestly did not expect any survivors, let alone the death of some of our beasts. A pleasant surprise, yes?"


Then he glanced over in my direction, and I was surprised to see his eyes looking right at mine. Ideas and cautious thoughts dissipated from my mind, though, when his gaze looked over behind me. I could see his face harden into a scowl as he once more brought the mug to his mouth, his eyes still looking in my direction.


Curiosity got the better of me, and I turned to see a young zebra mare smiling. It wasn't a mad, drunken smile or a sadistic, overly-indulged-in-the-violence smile, but rather a genuine smile of relief and gladness. She was a tribal, signified by a series of wavy green-colored tattoos snaking along her neck and onto her back. Her gaze was focused solely on the zebra in the center of the arena, and she watched his every move with anxious anticipation.


I turned back around, questions erupting in my head. I had to wonder why she wasn't with the other tribals, or why she didn't seem like she was enjoying the fighting itself; at that time, the mere thought of someone here who didn't enjoy the bloodshed was a gift from the gods.


Before I could muse on any more of my thoughts, though, Seashore stomped on the ground and announced to get our attention, "Alright, haha, a brilliant show! Truly this day is one that has to be extended, just to sate your thirst!" Now his voice was calm and charismatic, to be expected of an announcer. I had to wonder whether he was hiding bad intent under his words.


The grating groan of scraping metal filled the air, and two more gates on opposite sides of the arena floor lowered. Delvius' face hardened into a fierce glower as he watched the slavers herd out more slaves, this time some of them ponies. Just like the batch before them, these slaves looked like they hadn't had a single say in the matter. In fact, once they were all outside, a slaver stallion actually tossed the armor of one of the slave fighters at him; clearly the slave had been so forced into this he didn't even get time to even try to prepare. Gravetanicus only shook his head in disappointment, but I wanted to go over there and completely fuck up those slaver bastards.


"Well, clearly we need more blood to sate your thirst, eh?" Seashore chimed. "Well, then you shall have it!"


I turned my attention back to the arena, and was surprised to find that the gladiator standing at the center of the arena was looking my way; or rather, at the zebra mare behind me. Their gazes were locked until one of the slavers pushed him to the other side of the arena, where the three surviving slaves from the previous round were being cowed. The new arrivals were on the other side, outnumbering them three-to-one.


"Now for the next round. The combatants will be divided into two groups and will engage in team deathmatch. Considering the... skill that I am putting onto the team with less members, I feel like it's only fair to have them outnumbered," Seashore declared, then murmured quietly, "And maybe the other team has some better skill..." Then he lifted the mug again and drank. Judging from the bit of the liquid I saw on the screen, I assumed that he was drinking wine.


I growled in irritation, but was distracted by something before thoughts of disgust could spawn in my head. That distraction was the zebra mare behind me. With a terrified little gasp, she had my attention, and no one else's. I looked back at her, more curious than ever. Who was she, anyway? What, did she have a relation to the gladiator, or was she a huge fan of his? I couldn't tell, and I wasn't about to even try to tap into that psychological ability of mine to find out; I still felt it was unnatural.


But while I stared over at her, Seashore announced once again, "Alright! Let the bloodletting... BEGIN!" There was psychotic shouting and screaming once again, jarring my attention back to the arena.


The two teams moved in on each other, slowly and cautiously. I could even see the anguish on some of their faces; perhaps they were fighting someone they knew on the other team, or perhaps someone they knew had been torn apart earlier. Whatever the reason, they had eyes that looked ready to shed tears. All of them showed some sadness, really; all except the zebra stallion, his scowling helmet masking his emotions.


For a few moments the teams circled each other, and just like in the last round the crowd was tense and eagerly anticipating any and all offensive actions. I could see the juvenile glee on their faces; their sadistic and haughty laughs rang throughout the arena, fanning my disgust. Some even had the audacity to toss cans and bottles to signify their impatience. Despite it all I just couldn't bring myself to get up and leave; I eyed the exit and made several attempts to get up and leave, all of which failed. There was something in my head, some kind of anxiety or cowardice, that diluted my will. It... bothered me, to say the least.


The crowd steadily seemed to become universally dissatisfied, much to Seashore's obvious anxiety. I could hear them calling out for blood, for death... the cruelty of these people, these supposed Roamans, astonished me.


The stalemate was finally broken, much to the crowd's relief, when a pony from the outnumbering team lunged forward with his makeshift sword, aiming for the chest of the gladiator. With a simple swipe of his shield, he blocked the blade. His forehoof sped up in a savage uppercut and plunged his own blade deep into the pony's stomach, impacting with such brutal force that the pony's guts blasted out his back.


So it began.


After that the gladiator recovered quickly, pulling his blade out of the body and charging into the disorganized and spread-out ranks of the opposing team. Surprise and shock were evident in their inability to react properly until another of them had his head cleaved off by a quick swipe from the skilled slave. Spears and spiked whips danced in the air, attempting to strike the gladiator as he whirled around, slashing and blocking like a storm of precise fury. This was the moment his allies had been waiting for, and they charged in, much less smoothly, into the fray. One of them got a sword in his mouth and collapsed dead even as he charged headlong into the fight.


The crowd cheered and gasped and laughed their heads off at the violence; at every chopped off limb, every audible scream, every spilled gut. Blades and metal smacked into each other, ringing with a short but savage cacophony of very audible clangs. Heads flew up here and there, spilling blood all over the sandy floor. Roars of impassioned yelling blasted through the air with tangible force. But eventually the fight -- previously a disorienting blur of red and white and grey -- was coming to an end.


And end it did, when the last opposing slave fell backwards, headless, at the feet of the gladiator. His chest puffed in and out frantically, his flesh bearing many torn patches where the whips had dug into his skin. His helmet was marred all over with scratches, and his tail and part of his flank had been severed from his body. Yet he stood, proud and victorious, alongside the only one from his team who had survived, and even then just barely; the unicorn he stood next had been using magic to wield his flail and fight from a distance, but that didn't spare him the flesh he lost from his neck. The crowd thundered in applause; they clearly found it an entertaining fight. The mare behind me didn't cheer, but looked extremely relieved.


Seashore clearly didn't feel the same, though. The forced smile on his face indicated it. When he could no longer hide his anxiety, he brought the mug up again to mask his grimace. The more I saw his face, the more I had the distinct feeling he really wanted that slave dead.


"Well, this is a first," he proclaimed when he got his disapproval under control. "Never before have we had TWO survivors. It seems that we will have to..." He fell silent for a moment, and a sickening grin crossed his face. "Well, suffice it to say that for the final round, we need only one fighter."


While approving murmurs burst out within the crowd, the two slaves on the arena floor could only look at each other, one with horror and the other with a face of steel. Disgust erupted within me, and only the timely placed hoof on my shoulder and Delvius' shoulder from Gravetanicus kept us from leaping out of tension.


"It's simple, really," Seashore said with a blank voice. "I have recently acquired new meat for the arena. He's strong, powerful, and EXOTIC! Why, I can feel your curiosity already. You're probably wondering, 'who is this new fighter we have yet to see?' Well, I shall answer that question in the round after this, for fights between two skilled foes are always better one-on-one, don't you agree?" The crowd sounded rather confused, really. Still, the general tone seemed to be one of mounting anticipation. Seashore noticed this.


He closed his eyes and nodded to himself certainly. "Mhm, always better one-on-one, no doubt about it." Then he opened his eyes and shouted as he leaned over the edge of the pavilion, "Now... FIGHT!"


The gladiator didn't fight. He just looked his fellow slave in the eyes, watching him tremble from his own wounds. He didn't fight even when his opponent screamed and swung the blade through the air at him. He just dodged the wild swing effortlessly, and rolled out of the way of his opponent's flails. The crowd booed and shook their heads, unsatisfied.


The gladiator rolled and dodged until he had been pressed right up against the wall. Here he just kept parrying his enemy's strikes, while the pony seethed and yelled fiercely in desperate determination. It was horrible, really. To be forced to fight for the slim chance of winning freedom, to go up against an opponent who didn't want to kill but wanted to live... cruelty. Pure, undiluted cruelty.


The unicorn used his magic to swing his flail around the zebra's back, but the zebra caught the mace-like ball in his hooves despite the pain such an action would bring to him. The pony yelled and swung his sword, but it was stuck in the zebra's wooden shield by the momentum. Now with his opponent as stuck as he was, the gladiator glanced over at the zebra mare behind me while his opponent struggled.


The zebra mare just gulped and closed her eyes, and with tears rolling down her cheeks she nodded.


The gladiator seemed to register that for a moment, but then dropped his shield and with his free hoof punched the pony in the face, much to the crowd's delight. The pony, weakened by previous wounds and exhaustion, tumbled backwards and fell over scrambling into the dirt. The zebra, having gained the tentative permission of the mare behind me, didn't hesitate. As the pony fought to get back up, he raised his sword and stabbed it down his opponent's skull and out the bottom of his muzzle. The gladiator let the limp body fall to the ground.


"That's it, I'm out of here," I declared and got up. Fuck it all, I wasn't staying here for the slaughter. "I don't need any more of this worshipped brutality. If you need me I'll be outside where the air is cleaner and the people saner."


I scowled at the spectacle going on and trotted towards the exit, ignoring the confused and suspicious looks I got from bystanders as I went. If they had grown so accustomed to this violence that the sight of someone who didn't appreciate this cruelty was strange to them, then they weren't worth my time. This place stunk of their madness and their misplaced glee, and I wanted none of it.


But on my way out I paused. There was something in my head, tugging at my thoughts... it was some kind of compulsion, and my head ached. I felt it controlling me, wrapping it's slimy tendrils around my brain... I couldn't stop it; suddenly my desire to leave went out the window, and so I turned back around. Amused smirks followed me as I trotted back, idly staring off at the fighting, and sat back down. I felt nothing for it; I was an emotionless husk.


My approach drew me a surprised look from the auxiliaries. "Goldwreath, you need not stay," Delvius told me, "I understand that this angers you; it angers us even more." He looked back at the fighting with a scowl. "But as this city's soldiers, we need to observe all the happenings that are occurring. And so disgusting as all this is, it is our responsibility to make sure this violence doesn't escalate into an frenzied orgy of slaughter. We must make sure this terror stays inside the Colosseum, and nowhere else."


"I stay because I want to, alright?" I replied angrily, but it was not me. No, it couldn't be me, it just couldn't. I didn't enjoy brutality, especially not this slaughter.


Delvius and Gravetanicus' eyes widened, then they looked to each other with worried glances. "Well... you don't have to stay here is all I'm saying," Delvius said uneasily. They didn't oppose me as I sat back down and looked on. It was only a moment later that my emotions oozed back into my mind, and only then did I realize what I had done. I could have went out then, but... I didn't. Something kept me there, manipulating my anger to force me to keep myself here. Considering what I had gone through, I guess it was only about time stuff like this happened, but still... it scared me.


I couldn't do anything about it. I just turned my attention back to the arena, the light pressure of an invisible string tugging at my brain still present in my mind. The brutality of the death earlier was enough to gain thunderous hoofstomps of approval despite the fight's lack of variety and short length. Seashore looked disappointed but not surprised; he just shook his head with a grimace.


Still, with the gladiator's opponent dead he could call in his exotic little new arrival. "Very well!" he said, sounding eager. "Now perhaps I can let you see my most exotic fighter yet! Release him!"


The gladiator didn't even get a moment's respite, but he was already preparing for the fight. He picked up a sword off of the ground and a shield, and readied himself whilst facing the direction of the lowering gate. The crowd shushed into a a tense silence, and they all got onto the edges of their seats to perhaps see who this fighter was. Even I and Delvius did; perhaps the only ones who didn't show much anticipation was the zebra mare behind me and Gravetanicus,


"This fighter hails from an isolated herd off to the far north," Seashore started, trying to sound dramatic as the gate lowered. "There, the environment is cold and inhospitable. The few creatures that live are savage beyond compare, and therefore that land's inhabitants have grown into adept warriors. They are a stoic, strong people with a stubborn culture of warfare and combat -- truly they make tough foes, for this one we acquired at a hefty price when we caught him and a few others wandering in the city!"


The gate fell to the ground with a reverberating clang, ominously spreading to every corner of the Colosseum. Within the gate was only darkness, but beastly snorts and loud grunts emanated from within. "Here I present to you the one that will make today memorable! Here I present to you the entire reason today host's your beloved bloodsport!"


A creature stepped out, tall and menacing. It stood upon two hindlegs, with hooves no less. Its lower body had dark fur while it's upper body -- swaddled in coats of fur and leather -- had grayish fur, and its muscular body was tattooed all over with elaborate curves and images of battles. It was old, that was certain. Within its left hand it held a large war axe, and in the other a whip made of spiked chains. Its long horns were decorated red, and its bony head had piercings both for the nose and the ears. An aura of strength and terror came with it as it stomped onto the arena, shaking the sand-covered wooden platform with each step.


The creature stepped into the full light of day without escort, snorting hot breaths out of its nose as it went, and the crowd steadily roared into an applause of such approval I had to cover my ears. Delvius and his comrade winced in a combination of shock and awe. Its eyes wandered over the crowd with an angry curiosity. I knew what this beast was, though I had never seen its kind of creature before. I could tell the expression on its face: a haughty yet angry scowl. I could see the tension in its features; the lust for battle, the desire to vent an anger or to satisfy a pride.


The gladiator's combat stance turned to one of surprise and disbelief at the sight of the imposing opponent he was to fight against, and he took several fearful steps backwards. His opponent grinned with malicious delight at the sight of his small enemy's obvious dread, and took advantage of that to push the gladiator further into the center of the arena, where there was the most exposure. The mare behind me gasped and sandwiched her head in between her hooves in terror. Seashore, however, smiled cryptically at the sight of the creature.


He took in a deep breath and let out in a bellow, "Here I present to you the champion and chief of the now extinct Tremor Hoof clan, past ally of the mighty Roaman Empire! Noble ponies and zebras of the esteemed Zebrican continent, I give you... Boagrius the MINOTAUR!"

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

Minotaurs.


The Roaman zebra's allies during the war. The ones who had been turned into terror shock troops, wielding massive arm cannons and terrifying banners. They were the fear of all Equestrian armored vehicles. They were the ones who had an entire legion made out of their race. They had a long history of bloody combat with themselves and with others, and this brought about a culture invaluable to those who could ally them. But to their enemies and that of their allies... they were a force to be bowed down to.


The Caesars and their empire, with promises of wealth and glory and power, were irresistible friends of the war-like minotaur kings and chiefs. Together the two nations flourished, and together they stopped the savage zebra Goths from destroying the Roaman world. Down the Renaissance and into the middle ages, only the two societies had remained inseparable even when other alliances crumbled. During the war, the minotaur juggernauts and the zebra Legionnaires had imposed terror on all Equestrian camps in Zebrica, and had put terrible tolls on every gained inch the Equestrians could take. Together, they had been the top fighting force in the entire ancient world, and were such even in the face of the Equestrian war machine.


Now... now they were nothing more than slaves. Highly regarded combatants, but slaves no less. The loss of status and the irreverence to such a proud race to which Roam could have given credit for its continued existence to astonished me, and served only to fan the flames of my impassioned anger against all these barbarians.


Though I wanted my unhealthy but much desired anger to boil further in my head, I was distracted. As it turns out, my thoughts had rendered me blind to the happenings around me. I had missed part of the fight. Shaking my head, I turned my attention to the arena, which everyone else had been watching with such wild vigor and wonder that it almost made me wonder if they knew they were watching a cruel display of barbaric bloodletting.


I couldn't leave anyway; my mind betrayed me and smashed all desire to leave that forsaken place and replaced that desire instead with a burning want for anger.

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

Boagrius roared again and stomped the wooden arena floor, sundering the ground beneath the gladiator and sending him tumbling to the ground even as he charged. He slid to a stop right beneath the minotaur's legs, and Boagrius took a step back before raising another hoof to stomp his head in.


The gladiator rolled out of the way and was launched further off by the shockwave of the impact. With a thud he landed onto the bloodied arena floor before recovering and scrambling up. Panting, he brought his shield up just in time to to deflect the spikes of the minotaur's chain whip. The rest of the whip bent on the shield, however, and struck him in the back, eliciting a yelp and causing him to collapse onto the floor, his side bleeding from a deep wound where one of the spikes had struck him.


Boagrius charged and jumped into the air, his war axe ready to cut the small zebra in half. The gladiator only had enough time to once more bring up his shield. The massive minotaur landed and, with a downward swing of his axe, shattered the wooden shield into pieces and turning at least half of the zebra's foreleg into eviscerated meat. He fell onto his back hard, scrambling away whilst barely avoiding several more swings from Boagrius' huge axe. Jumping and rolling, occasionally tripping from his destroyed limb, the gladiator staggered away far enough to get a few seconds of breath. He collapsed onto the ground from pain, and the crowd roared in glee at his weakness, yelling for Boagrius to finish him off. The majority of the gathered people were already teetering on tue edges of their seats, moving their hooves in a downward motion repeatedly -- the death call in a Roaman arena.


Boagrius complied, though not directly, to their will. The large beast raised his axe again, and with an arena-shaking strike smashed it into the ground. The gladiator had just barely managed to roll aside, and was now stabbing the minotaur's arm with deep, painful lunges. Boagrius roared and brought up his whip. The gladiator pulled his sword out just in time to use it to block the heavy metallic rope. But his own sword acted as a pivot, and soon the rusty links and spikes were slamming into him as the whip twisted around him again and again. The force of it threw him to the ground when the whip smashed into his legs, tripping him over.


Despite his visible pain and weakness, he, much to my own disbelief, managed to free himself of the chains and push himself up to a gallop. Boagrius's axe sliced through the air again and again as the minotaur charged at him, each time nearly cleaving the zebra in half. The gladiator could only roll out of the way, not even able to stab or fight back in even the most meager fashion.


Boagrius swung his axe but held it in the air. Feigning another arena-shaking slam, Boagrius managed to trick the zebra into dodging to the side. It was when the gladiator was rolling that the minotaur swept his whip across the floor, slamming into the zebras forelegs as he was about to get up onto his feet. There was a sickening crunch accompanied by a muffled scream, and the zebra landed flatly on his back, his forelegs bleeding and broken.


The zebra mare behind me got up off of her seat and leaned against the backrest of mine, temporarily jarring my attention away from the fight as she stared in horror. She ignored the demands to sit down that came at her from behind. Seashore smiled cryptically my way, and I noticed two of his slavers encroach on our position. I shifted uncomfortably and loosened my gladius, just in case.


Boagrius raised a massive hoof to stomp his corpse into the dirt.


But then the zebra got up and galloped again, limping as he did so. The minotaur's titanic leg shook the floor behind him, but the zebra didn't trip. Picking up a random blade as he went, he dove in between his opponent's bottom legs and slashed at one of them, causing Boagrius to crash forward with a loud thump. The zebra slid to a stop behind his bowed opponent. Then, forcing all his energy into the effort, he jumped onto the minotaur's back and leapt into the air, bringing his sword down and aiming for Boagrius' nape.


My mind was in a mix of confused feelings, but eventually everything settled on one. It was joy. He was actually going to win! Against an opponent so much stronger than him, the gladiator could actually win his freedom! My heart and mind both eagerly anticipated the killing blow, ready to congratulate him for his effort.


The glimmering of a rusty iron whip through the air shattered all those hopes.


The whip smacked into the zebra's stomach, ripping the wound he had in his side open. The impact sent him sailing through the air towards the railings of the first row of seats, dropping blood in rivulets as he went. He crashed onto the railings with a sickening cacophony of snaps and lay limp, his body bent inwards. A gripping shock froze me in place, and what made it worse was that he was right in front of me, groaning weakly and bleeding out. He raised his head up slowly even as his cruel spectators howled in applause, and with a resigned gaze looked at me. His eyes were in pain, silently begging for assistance. My heart and mind froze, driven to immeasurable pity for him.


It was pathetic... both of us were. Him for his condition, and me for... for being so shocked, so unprepared, that, just like in that dream Predator has placed me in, I failed to act in moments that called for action. And I knew, Goddesses I fucking knew I needed to move... but I didn't.


And I couldn't take it. I couldn't take not doing anything, not anymore. I couldn't just sit there, watching him until his opponent came for his blood. And so I got up and was about to gallop to him when the zebra mare behind me rushed forward, nearly crashing into me as I recoiled back reflexively. Crying, she made it about halfway towards him before the two slavers stopped her. She kicked and struggled madly, but they held her where she was.


"No, please no!" she begged in an intriguing accent -- not the typical sequential tune of most tribals, but rather a silky smooth, pleading tone. She looked over at her captors in anguish. "Please..." she begged. "He doesn't deserve this... he's all we have, you can't just take him away from us, please..." Her heartbreaking glance drifted over to the dying zebra in front of her. He returned the gaze, almost sleepily.


"What's this?" Seashore asked with a smirk. "It seems our zebra has a fan! Aw, that's so adorable!" he laughed. The crowd joined him with their own brand of jeering nickers.


Delvius' eyes widened in anger and disgust at the cruelty of the situation. "Alright, that's it!" he growled, and then got up and pulled out his gladius about halfway out if its scabbard when Gravetanicus grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him down. Then he whispered something in his seething comrade's ears; 'there's nothing to be done' he seemed to say. Delvius growled but seemed to accept the reality.


The gladiator's gaze met with the mare's for a last time, and in the stallion's eyes there was a certain expression, a sort of... goodbye. It made the mare hiccup and wince from her emotions, unable to meet his eyes. It broke my heart, and yet I couldn't find it in me to do anything. I was useless, just like in all other situations that I should have been doing something in. Completely, absolutely, useless.


Boagrius' massive hand grabbed the broken zebra by the torso and pulled him away, and all of us could only watch as the minotaur brought the zebra's broken body away and walked off towards the center of the arena. The massive being just... played around with the zebra, tossing him into his two hands like a strange doll. Not particularly sadistically, just... curiously. Like a dog wondering what toy had been thrown its way. Even still, the crowd eagerly awaited every move like it was the grand finale. All except the tribal zebra mare, me, and the two auxiliaries beside me, that is.


At last the minotaur stopped and idly brought the blood-stained zebra close to his face, snorting as he did. There was a low growl rumbling from within his throat, though it was not particularly aggressive. "You should not have fought me," Boagrius said in a surprisingly calm and fatherly tone, if a tad stern and lecturing. I didn't know how I heard it; they were pretty far away. What, were my ears mutated? "T'was a foolish mistake on your part. Though perhaps not only yours."


The minotaur looked over the crowd with contempt for a moment. "In here, we are both slaves. Perhaps t'was not your will to fight. Or perhaps it was, but for a... different reason aside from entertaining this poultry gathering of spectators." His face hardened into a menacing scowl. "These foreigners who'm your people have taken in killed my people, zebra. None of us were spared, none but me. If I could return the favor I would, but the only one I have to vent my vengeance upon is you. You are the only one available for cleaving. This vengeance will not satisfy me, but it is all that I can have," he growled angrily.


He raised the zebra up into the air and shouted, "But by my ancestors, I pray that that will change before my death comes! I pray that those who deserve my axe has it as their last sight!" Then he tossed the zebra up into the air, and with an air-slicing swing sliced the zebra in half and sent bloody bits flying off in all directions.


Screams. Screams everywhere. It came from all of them. An unbreakable wall of deafening sound from the crowd and all who enjoyed the fight, and a soul-freezing wail of misery and pain from the mare. All of them had been so engrossed in the final moments of the fight that the guards holding her at bay had grips weakened by disinterest. With a savage yank she managed to free herself from captivity and jump over the railings, much to the further jeering of those gathered. It was absolutely horrible, all of it; heartbreaking too. He... what had he been to her? A father? A brother? A lover?


And worst of all was that aqua-blue bastard just watching it all from his lofty height. That smirk of his... so satisfied and victorious. Amusement bloomed in his features as he watched the zebra mare pick up the upper half of the gladiator's body, nuzzling and crying against his helmet. He didn't say anything; he just watched with the utmost sadism.


Not Boagrius, though. At the sight of the mare's anguish and suffering, the old minotaur actually seemed to have the heart to look regretful. Perhaps he was; after all, he hadn't had much choice aside killing that zebra. Who was to say that he would have done so had he had another choice? In a Colosseum there was only killing, or mercy at the crowd's consent. No other options. Funny how the slave -- a nomadic minotaur of tribal blood -- was more civilized than these insults to the Roaman world.


By now Delvius' own hate had been directed to the aqua pony, and only Gravetanicus' firm and disciplined grip kept his seething comrade at bay. As for me... well, some self-doubting, frightened part of me betrayed the rest of my body and kept me in too severe a shock to do anything. I hated it, but I have to admit that it would have been stupid if I acted.


"Well well well..." Seashore mocked. "It seems we have a surprise fighter! What a treat! Today certainly is looking to raise the bar for future spectacles, eh? I certainly hope that she knows the rules of the arena floor: any who step on it are fighters unless I say so!" He chucked a bit to himself and raised his mug again. Then, "Have her killed," he said idly, and with disinterest brought the mug to his mouth.


The mare on the arena could only look up at the pony with absolute disbelief, then at the minotaur with the most terrified eyes. Her eyes lingered on the crowd for a moment, and her face hardened into an expression of total loathing. Then with only slight hesitation, she picked up the crude blade the stallion had used and took a few steps towards the minotaur. Her glower was fierce and her courage awed me, perhaps even the crowd, considering how pleasantly surprised they look.


But her bravery was short-lived. By the time she was only a few meters away from the incredulous Boagrius, she herself was already shivering and she seemed like she wished she could have taken her actions back. But of course she couldn't; she could only try to finish what she started, however it may have ended.


Boagrius looked down at the mare, shaking his head slowly. "I am a warrior," he said simply. "Not a murderer. He fought me, and I fought back. In the world as it is -- in this arena -- it's kill or be killed. And even in here, we have a choice: fight to live or idle to die. You..." He pointed a hand at her, his whip and axe hanging over his shoulder. "... you had a choice. You chose to come fight me. And so at your consent, I will fight you."


Then without another word, he flung his axe into the air and grabbed it with his other. Then with shocking speed he swung it in a low downwards arc, seeking to slice the mare's legs off.


The mare was NOT a trained fighter. She did not have the best reflexes nor the most combat skill, and so the only thing that saved her was the fact that she reflexively stabbed the sword down beside her. The axe shattered the blade into hundreds of lacerating shards, but the impact traveling up the broken blade and into the hilt sent her somersaulting into the air. She landed with a thud onto her back, and with her lithe build scrambled backwards just as the whip pounded the ground in front of her.


Boagrius stomped forward repeatedly, much to the crowd's cheers. The zebra mare just barely managed to twist and snake in between the impact points to not get crushed. She had ample opportunity to fight back and cut at his legs in between his stomps if she had a blade; as it was, the closest weapons was a terrible dozen or so meters from her, lodged into the face if a unicorn mare.


But perhaps she didn't need a weapon. I don't know where she got it, but in her hooves suddenly appeared this box of a very familiar silvery design. As she evaded the minotaur's crushing hooves, she managed to pop out what seemed to be a vial out of the box. I didn't even get to observe the vial for long before she smashed it into the ground, blowing green-glowing smoke in all directions.


At the sight of that the crowd let out a surprised gasp, and Boagrius himself ceased for a moment before roaring and swiping inside the smoke with axe and whip alike, tearing apart the green mist. The fog soon dissipated, leaving the earth stained green, yet to our surprise the mare wasn't there at all. Boagrius himself seemed confused; certainly none of us had even SEEN her escape. Where had she gone?


A patch of the green earth suddenly leapt into the air and galloped like a maniac away from the confused Boagrius, and before the old minotaur knew it the zebra mare had in her hooves a spear. With a trained posture and a fierce but desperate energy, she flung it into the air just as Boagrius turned.


The minotaur crashed backwards with a roar as the spear bore itself deep into his stomach and out his back. Small as it may have been compared to him, the fact was that it had been thrown with good technique and it had done its job well. The zebra mare stood there for a moment, huffing in shock as she watched her injured opponent anxiously. Slowly and idly, she picked up a small tomahawk off the ground.


He snarled and he yanked the spear out of his stomach, then fixed her with a terrifying glare. My eyes widened as I saw the hole in his stomach heal. How? Why? Minotaurs had a notoriously robust physiology, but regenerating at this rate... mutation, it just had to be mutation. Nothing else could possibly suffice.


The mare's eyes widened as she stepped backwards, and the minotaur charged with all the speed his limbs could muster. Dirt and flesh flew into the air as the ground shook beneath the minotaur's charge, and soon the mare found herself hastily galloping backwards in a panicked fright. It wasn't enough, and the minotaur's horned head smashed against her front, impaling her side.


They crashed into the marble on the far side of the arena, with the minotaur's horns buried halfway into the wall. The zebra mare looked ready to faint, her body hanging on the horns by just a little skin. With a snapping of flesh, she fell to the ground beneath her opponent, bleeding heavily and looking weak. Boagrius yanked his horns out of the wall and looked down fiercely at his opponent. He stepped backwards and raised his axe, and those gathered were all unified as they moved their hooves downwards again and again, cheering.


The minotaur swung his axe in the air.


It was at that moment that something in my head snapped. Some kind of restriction was gone. That... complacence-inducing barrier in my head was gone. I didn't know what it was, but now that I was free of it I felt absolutely FREE. Suddenly I could move again; suddenly my mind was racing. I knew then why I had even entered the Colosseum to watch these fights; I had stayed because some part of me hoped to be able to do some good. Maybe to save a life or ease someone's pain. Through all the thoughts and feelings rushing through me, my head landed on one, inescapable truth:


Now it was time to act. No more idling.


My heart thundered in my chest as the combat adrenaline pumped into my veins. All of my senses sharpened to pick up even the most minute stimulus. My muscles tensed, and my breathing deepened. Emotions faded to give way to fierce focus. My eyes darted to the side, lingering on one of the retractable pilums on Delvius' back. Gravetanicus was still holding him down, stopping him from helping.


But of course, he wasn't holding me down.


Without even thinking, I grabbed the retracted spear and gave it a hard shake, exposing the full length of the pilum. Gravetanicus and Delvius alike both looked shocked and tried to stop me, and as I galloped towards the railings I pushed aside the two slavers and knocked them to the ground. Arcing my spine and tensing my muscles, I focused all my energy into my limbs and threw the spear towards the minotaur.



It punched a whole clean through Boagrius' wrist.


He screamed an agonized and shocked shout and dropped his axe to the ground, cradling his injured hand. Then he looked over at me with the most ferocious and angry eyes I had ever seen from another sentient being as I jumped into the arena. But I didn't care; I wasn't afraid of him. Failing to live up to my duty, that was what I was afraid of. To have harm come to innocents through my own incompetence.


I drew me gladius, got up onto my hindlegs, and spread out my forelimbs provocatively. I looked him right in the eyes as I shouted, "Well? I am here, are you not going to fight me? Or are you too tired? Done playing around with dolls and ready to face a real opponent yet?"


The crowd let out a unified 'oooh' as if warning me I had made a terrible mistake, but I kept my eyes fixed on the minotaur and held my contempt at bay. I looked up and saw that Seashore had taken off the headset to prevent the entirety of the crowd from hearing his laughter; clearly all of this was funny to him. The bastard. He was probably thinking today was the best day of his life.


Boagrius himself looked at me with utmost anger for a moment before putting on an amused smirk. His wrist was already healing itself, unnaturally knitting its own flesh back together... horrifying.


With a disinterested snort at the bleeding mare he went over and picked up the two spears that had pierced him during his time in the arena. He shook his head knowingly. "Why, I wonder, are so many of you compelled to fight me? It makes no sense. You have no ties to this arena, yet you give up your freedom and your life just to save a volunteer? You people puzzle me," he said in a bemused tone.


I gave him a cold look as I replied, "We all have a choice. You fight for vengeance and anger, Boagrius. I fight to save people. If that means putting my life on the line, then I shall do it. I would not be able to live with myself if I stood by."


"Then stop standing and start fighting!" he barked. Then he put both his arms forward and gestured at me with his fingers. "Come at me, little pony."


'Oh, you are so asking for it.'


This was it. No turning back now. I looked him over for a moment, calming my insides enough to not let my nervousness take over. Then I picked up a serviceable shield off the ground. Starting out slowly, I cantered across the blood and sand-covered wooden floor towards my enemy, the crowd's eyes glue to me as I went. Then as my heart started thundering in my chest, I broke out into a full gallop, the gladius in my mouth and the shield on my shoulder. Somewhere out there was Skyfire, probably wondering what manner of idiocy I was practicing.


Boagrius put on a fierce face as he readied a spear to throw at me. Then with a primal roar he thrust the spear at me with overwhelming force, and the spear's black blur sailed threw the air at incredible speeds.


I slowed down just enough to get the shield out to block the impact. The spear slammed into me with such force that I would have been blown back had I not already had momentum. The shield split in half, barely stopping the spear's tip from lodging itself in my shoulder. It was useless now, so I just dropped it and broke into a mad dash, gladius in mouth.


He readied the other spear and aimed. Then with another powerful shout he flung that at me as well. It made a dangerous hissing noise as it cut through the air, seeking to impale me.


But for all its deadliness, it could be avoided entirely by a simple step to the side.


With both his spears spent, Boagrius yelled at me as I got closer and yanked at his whip. He sent it flying through the air towards me even as my distance was reduced to a mere few meters. The clanking of the chains and the spikes on them seemed to grow all the more deadly now that I paid attention to them.


But that metal whip could be dodged easily, especially with my momentum. To fear it now was a death wish. Yes it could kill me, and I was not above that reality. But it was because of that knowledge that instead of panicking, I did the only thing a pony with my momentum should do against an opponent like this: aim for the weak spot.


That was his neck.


Forcing all my energy to my legs, I jumped, and hoped only that I would not encounter the iron whip as I sailed through the air. Clanks of links and the flashing of polished spikes greeted me as I neared my target. Boagrius' eyes widened as I flew in between the iron and neared him. For the first time, I saw real fear in his eyes.


Then I spat out the blade and grabbed it with a hoof. Next I planted a foreleg on his chest, and with the other plunged the blade down where his shoulder met his neck and pulled it out after the entirety of the metal sank into his flesh.


I landed on the ground with a thud, my back turned to the frozen Boagrius. The crowd was eerily silent as I got up and turned to see if my gambit for a quick kill had paid off.


All I saw was Boagrius falling forward, planting his front into the dirt. The crowd went absolutely nuts with cheer. Seashore's haughty look disappeared, replaced by an expression of utmost disbelief. I looked up at him, and I hoped his eyes were good enough to see my scowl. He returned my hateful look with uncertainty, but I swear I saw the glimmer of an idea light up in his eyes. I didn't care for that at the moment, for I was too busy taking some relief on Boagrius' defeat. I had beat him... I didn't know if it meant I was that good, or that my opponent was simply arrogant.


And yet for all my effort, Boagrius still wasn't dead. He stirred, surprising all of us as he started crawling forward, bleeding heavily from the side of his head. I stared at him; seriously? STILL alive? What unnatural madness was this? Had I not pierced his heart with that strike? I had -- I was sure of it -- yet here he was slowly healing right in front of my eyes!


I didn't know what else to do. I spared the unconscious but thankfully no longer bleeding mare a glance before trotting over to the fallen minotaur, gladius in hoof. With a soft grunt, I used my forelegs to roll him over onto his back. He groaned weakly as I got onto his chest and looked down into his eyes, now half-closed and tired-looking.


The crowd stated chanting, calling in one symphonic tune for his death. Funny how a few minutes ago they seemed like he was their idol, but now... now I had their attention? Hmph, capricious bastards.


I raised the blade and aimed it for his neck.


"Finish it," he said flatly, as if the thought of dying didn't even bother him.


That intrigued me a little; of all the people I'd met, the only ones I could say didn't fear death as it should have been feared was... well, Predator. It wasn't often that I met someone who could accept death instead of selling out their dignity just to live. "Are you not frightened?"


He shook his head slowly. "No. I am old, pony. I have been chieftain of my dead clan for seventy years, fought in many conflicts, and have had my fair share of exploits and foolish adventures. Now is as good a time to die as any, since I have lived fully." He took in a deep breath and sighed. "At least I die a warrior's death at the blade of another rather than a dishonorable one to the bullets of artificial warfare."


"I don't understand," I replied even as the crowd started becoming restless. "You speak of choice. Why choose to die?" I pointed at his wound with my gladius; the flesh was already slowly, very slowly, knitting back together. That sight disturbed me greatly, but I decided not to ask about it. "Can you not regenerate?"


He reached up an arm to touch his wound. "I can. But even if I did, I would need to live with the knowledge and shame of my defeat, the likes of which I have never tasted. To my honor and myself, I am already dead. All that's needed now is the termination of the flesh." He closed his eyes and opened them again, fixing me with a determined stare. "Now... finish me."


I looked at him for a moment, thinking on what to do. This was the typical warrior culture of many of the Roaman influenced groups, and to some degree even of the Roamans themselves. Self image was just as important as public image, so in so easily defeating him I had stripped him of his worthiness... impractical as it may have been, that belief DID have some merit to them. Still, I had watched this minotaur kill a slave fighting for freedom and nearly kill an innocent bystander. I'd be damned if I let him live to maybe do it again...


But I couldn't. I just couldn't. I wasn't a killer, at least not willingly. All I did and all I had done was done out of a good desire, even the wrong things. I acted with thought; killing was an action people did when they didn't think enough to know that we all needed a second chance.


"I can kill you... but I choose not to," I replied evenly and got off of him. I barely managed to catch his expression as I turned around; he was shocked. The crowd itself was surprised at my decision, and they all started booing. I didn't mind them as I started for the mare, passed out and slumping against the wall.


"What?" he asked, bewildered. "No! You have already killed my image, now kill my flesh and let me rest!" he called out behind me.


I rounded on him and fixed his eyes with a coldly adamant glare. "Then take your own life if your honor means that much to you," I replied. "As for me, I give second chances as often as I can. I do this because I choose to, Boagrius. Not because I let the world enslave me. We all have a choice, you yourself made that clear to me, and YOU'RE the one that's enslaved here." He snorted at me, looking angry. I smirked, "Ironic little twist, eh?"


I turned back around and got over to the mare, pulling out a healing potion as I looked her injuries over. She'd been impaled deeply, and there was a huge hole in her side, but she wasn't bleeding as heavily as she could have. Even though the crowd voiced their displeasure, I just kept applying any healing I could. Somewhere down in my bags I had a bunch of bandages -- strange, because I don't remember picking those up -- and did my best to close her wounds with those.


Seashore, growing anxious and worried with each passing second, ordered me to finish off the incapacitated minotaur. Zebras cried out in displeasure, calling for blood. I could hear them bickering, and some even had the audacity to lean over the edge to throw down their garbage on us. That angered me greatly, but I kept myself focused on the task at hoof.


But... their childish want, their juvenile displeasure... it sickened me. With each bottle of glass and plastic thrown down at me, with every order from that haughty bastard up there, every impatient whine, I grew all the more vexed. Was this what society had been reduced to? Savages? Watching death for FUN? Could we not do better than that? Did we not grow up with the simple knowledge of right and wrong? Where were these people's consciences?


"I am ORDERING you to kill that beast!" Seashore shouted angrily. I ignored him. "Do it, slave!"


That did it for me. I was not a slave; NO ONE WAS! Slavery was an abomination to the greatness society could achieve! Suddenly all my anger and disgust, built up for the last half an hour, poured out in a raging torrent.


With a fierce scowl I reached down to the dirt and picked up a random piece of weaponry -- it was a mace -- and with a shout infused with all the anger I could muster turned around and flung the weapon in the air, aiming for that aqua bastard.


His eyes widened as he readied himself to shout again, and he barely managed to bring up his silver cup in time to block the impact. The wine splattered all over his face as he fell backwards, knocking over the mare holding the wine flagon and pouring all the drink over the ground. The crowd gasped in surprise and receded from discordant murmurs into an eery silence


I looked all of them over, hoping they could all FEEL my loathing as well as I had felt their sadistic pleasure. For Celestia's sake, just... what the fuck was with these people?


"Are you not entertained?! Is this not why you are here?" I yelled. They remained silent, even if just barely. Good, they didn't deserve the right to speak. "Are you not here to enjoy violence and death? You've had it, why so silent? What, have you bitten off your tongues, or has compassion become so alien for you that to see it would quiet you? Have your hearts turned to devices of stone, hard and LIFELESS?"


"Or let me guess, you want more?" I barked up at them, my voice echoing. At the obliviousness of their expressions I shook my head with a smile of contempt. "You do, don't you? You want more people to die under you. Why? Does it... does it make you feel powerful? Like royalty? Well guess what, NONE OF YOU ARE! For gods' sake, you people should be better than this! You're Roamans! Roamans are supposed to be civilized and an example for other nations, not savages! Yet here you are, cheering on this... this madness!"


I spat on the ground and turned my attention away, not wanting to waste any more time with these louts. There was nothing here for me but anger and disappointment, and I had done all I could. Best to not let the unconscious mare stay here any longer. All I had to do was trot out of here with her and Skyfire and maybe my new allies, and that would be it. All I could hope for was that there would be no hassle.


Of course, nothing was ever that easy.


Suddenly the gates gave off a tremendous groan and several dozen slavers came pouring into the arena, all looking quite pissed. The ground vibrated as they surrounded me, paying little heed to the conscious Boagrius. Soon I was enclosed in a semicircle of angry ponies, all giving me scowls as I carefully laid the zebra mare back onto the floor. The crowd seemed surprised at first but soon eased; for them, this was just another entertaining spectacle. The two Roamana auxiliaries were nothing more than purple and grey blurs on the far side of the arena, and so I could only imagine their feelings towards the scene I was making.


One of the slavers, clad in a conglomerate suit of Legionnaire armor mixed with more ramshackle leather pieces and ugly bolted sections, stepped forward as I stared off with the ponies.


"You're really ruffling feather's ya can't preen, boy." His voice was rough but experienced, and perhaps a tad imperious. "Ain't smart to go 'round screwin' with stuff and people you can't handle."


"Then why don't you savages leave Roam and her people alone?" I retorted with a confident little smile. "Why do you stay here when your existence hangs by a thread?"


"Don't get all cocky with me you son of a bitch!" he snapped and took several steps forward. "Ain't nopony in this land better than anypony in Equestria; in fact, the Equestria Redeye has under construction will be damned glorious. So since nopony here's better, why shouldn't we treat them the same and get them to work for a brighter future?"


"Three reasons why they shouldn't," I replied calmly despite all the attention on me. "One: all people are naturally equal and are entitled to the right of freedom, that goes the same for freedom from slavery. Two: these people aren't working for a better future, they're dying for entertainment. Three, any and all appropriate labor must be done with the consent of the workers; these people are slaves." I pressed forward slowly, locking him with a hard stare. "And even if it's a more personal feeling, I'll give you a fourth: you barbarians aren't worthy of benefitting off of the Roaman blood."


"How dare you!" he barked, insulted. "All this nonsense and talk of freedom and such bullshit! Freedom is earned when the person has gained the right to be free! In the wasteland, a free pony is worth nothing if his skills aren't used! Under Redeye, all build a brighter future for the benefit of the later generations! What you call slavery is the only way to force progress!"


I kept calm as he stomped over, seeming very murderous. "Who the hell do you think you are, boy? What gives you the right to even stand up for these zebra trash when EQUESTRIA lies in ruins?" He was right in front of me now, almost touching my muzzle with his own. The glare he gave me was fierce, but I'd seen worse.


His questions had only intensified my burning desire to protect the Imperial people, and so I replied without hesitation, even if it was not a smart decision to say it, "I am Roam's Praetorian, here to fight for her people and her glory, and to take away from you slaver savages the borrowed time you've all been living on."


He froze, though more out of confusion than out of shock. "Praetorian..." he murmured, as if trying to remember what my title entailed. Suddenly his eyes widened.


Before he could yell for his troops to open fire, I grabbed his head with a forehoof and pulled him closer to me, yelling in his face, "I AM THE PRAETORIAN, AND I WILL TOLERATE NO SLAVERY AGAINST ROAM!" Then I grabbed my gladius and sunk them into his gut, sending the blade basting out his back with an explosion of intestine and blood.


I pulled the sword out and kicked the pony's lifeless corpse onto the dirt, and the crowd was so startled some even spat out what was in their mouths. Seashore, who had looked angry but eager for my demise, once more looked absolutely bewildered. The half-ring of slavers around me likewise looked so shocked none of those idiots thought of shooting me dead. If Skyfire was watching she must have seen the immense recklessness of what I had just done, but I didn't care; this trip had started out as simple sightseeing, but now I knew it was an opportunity to test my resolve. And by the gods of Roam and the Goddesses of Equestria, I was going to pass this test.


"Is there no one else?" I yelled at the faces of the petrified and frightened slaver militia in front of me. They kept silent, shifting uncomfortably. I looked them each in the eye.


"Is there no one else?!" Again, I was met only with silence. My eyes glanced over to Seashore. "You!" I yelled, pointing a hoof at him. "Will you not face me?" His expression was a glower, but a weak one; he wouldn't come down.


I snorted, turning around and heaving the zebra onto my back. I had made such an impression on them that none of them dared to attack me. Good. If any of them opened fire now, the rest would follow, and without my armor and weapons or assurance that any allies would come to my rescue, I would be screwed.


But I didn't care about that. Underneath my anger, pride swelled up inside of me. A dark, sadistic piece of my identity was reveling in the thought of having their fear in my hooves; their actions on a leash that I held. The mere thought of having influence over their weak wills sent euphoric shudders through me. And as I turned around and walked towards them, it only intensified my pride to see them step aside, not daring to shoot.


I had actually thought that I could just trot out of there when Seashore yelled, "What the hell are you idiots doing? Kill him or capture him, damn it!"


Well fuck.


Behind me the sounds of cocking guns and drawn weapons rang in the air, and I knew that I was going to die if I did nothing. So I did the only thing a pegasus should do to escape: fly the hell away.


I extended my wings and was about to fly away when shots rang out from above me. Skyfire was strafing the slavers and in the process gained the attention of everyone in the entire Colosseum. Return fire opened up from different spots on the different floors and from behind me, but she was able to dodge. The crowd screamed in fright and was beginning to disperse from the area like a swarm of ants, and the chaos that ensued left a great many of them tumbling down the seats and falling into the arena itself. The exits were absolutely clogged with fleeing bystanders. It brought a grimace to my face to see those cowards running away; so proud when others were beneath, so cowardly in the face of danger... fucking rats.


"Don't just stand there!" Skyfire yelled as she somersaulted above me, dodging gunfire, "Move!"


I didn't need to be told twice. With my hooves thudding against the floor and adrenaline pumping in my veins, I galloped away from the gunfight with my wings ready to pick me up as soon as I decided to flap them. Bullets struck the arena floor beside and behind me, indicating that I still had their attention. Several shots came dangerously close to hitting me in the back of the head. Where I had been sitting a while ago, Gravetanicus and Delvius had joined in the fight, with the former fending off slavers with shield and sword and the latter opening fire on the more distant hostiles with his rifle.


One shot grazed my leg, but the stinging pain was enough to nearly trip me and send me tumbling to the floor. With some momentum lost, I tried to quicken my pace. Suddenly the threatening whiz of bullets near my ears gave way to the sound of thunderous thumping and roaring. Panic accompanied the realization that came to me.


Boagrius had recovered and slammed into me with the force of a train. But rather than crushing or impaling us as I had feared, he had me and the zebra in both of his massive hands, cradling us close to his chest as he charged for the side of the arena where I had sat. Gunshots aimed at us were absorbed by the minotaur as little more than painful stings, and soon we were close enough to the wall that he simply tossed us out of the arena and onto some of the seats. Gravetanicus and Delvius were so absorbed in their combat they hadn't even tried to worry about him.


While I struggled to get the unconscious mare onto my back, dodging shots as I did, Boagrius placed an arm onto the seats, looked behind him at the amassing slavers, and turned back to me. "Go Praetorian! Go while you still can!"


I finally got the mare securely onto my back. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I yelled over the chaos.


"Helping you to escape!"


"Why?" I asked, askance. "Why would you do this for the one who stripped you of your honor?"


He seemed a tad annoyed at my untimely inquiries, but answered nonetheless. "Praetorian, in sparing me you placed me in your debt. Now you're my master. In my culture, letting one's master die is a grave insult to oneself." He leaned in closer even as several shots struck his back. "That leaves me the only option of helping you escape."


"But I'm not your master!" I replied. "You're your own master, Boagrius. No person of any race should ever be a slave."


He looked at me for a second, contemplating. "Then you free me from my debt?"


"Yes!" I yelled. "You can escape with us! You can still live, you don't have to throw your life away for anyone! You can choose your own path and live without being forced to do anything!"


"I see," he replied, a growing smile on his face. "Then that gives me the freedom to choose my vengeance over heeding your commands!" He turned around and looked at the slavers with a predatory look.


"No..." I murmured.


Boagrius roared and charged off, smashing into the ponies who had killed his people.


"Boagrius, no!" But there was nothing I could do. I had freed him from my service -- let him choose to live or die -- and he chose death. He chose vengeance over a second start at life. Why would he do that? Heh, it's still a question I ponder. I guess that some people really just... choose to die fighting rather than to die decaying to age. In charging off like that he'd found his freedom, but left my mind forever wondering what would have happened if I chose to force him to live.


Had I chosen to enslave him, even for just a while, would I have saved him?


Gravetanicus bashed a slaver in the face and whirled around, cutting off his head. Next he jumped right in front of me and shielded my head with his scutum right before a few rifle rounds blew my brains out. "Goldwreath, we have to move now!" he yelled in my face.


I just stared off, watching as the minotaur fought with the slavers. Gravetanicus grabbed my head much like I had grabbed the head of the slave master earlier. "We. Have. To. Go. NOW!" he screamed. That got me out of my entranced stare, and I shook my head to clear my thoughts.


Soon after that we were galloping like madponies. Gravetanicus led us, bashing and slicing through slavers our way to freedom. Skyfire flew above, covering us and taking out snipers here and there. Delvius aided her, opening fire with admirable accuracy against shooters. My lungs and legs struggled to keep up with their quick pace as I pushed myself to move with her weight on my back, avoiding bullets and accidental impacts alike. Screams of fright and pleas to be left alone sounded all around us as we went. Bullet impacts sent pieces of debris into the air, and truth be told my heavily armored allies had more than once shielded me from getting hit. Distant roars and agonized wails signaled Boagrius' continued fight. I wanted to turn around and save him so badly... but I didn't. I couldn't do anything but respect his choice.


Soon we came to the crowded arched entrance of the Colosseum. Bashing and shoving through the galloping crowd and fighting off any that stood in our way, Gravetanicus slowly paved for us a path through. Delvius and Skyfire, the latter now on the ground with the auxiliary, covered our slow escape. A hot and claustrophobic atmosphere surrounded us as we struggled to get through. Soon enough we emerged, and on the other side we saw a great commotion caused by the fighting between the three auxiliaries and whoever opposed them. The slavers out here were few and scattered; easy prey for the well-trained and well-equipped Legion soldiers.


"Move move MOVE!" Delvius yelled behind me as his armor took several shots to the chest, knocking him down. Skyfire helped him back up with her forehooves, using her mouth to fire her SMG at their assailants. Gravetanicus galloped back and stabbed their attackers, allowing them to continue on.


After he was up and pulled further out onto the paved paths of Castellum Colossei, Delvius galloped over to join his fellow auxiliaries as they came together to form a wall of shields. The formation was being rushed -- hastily formed, with no thought of being able to return fire -- but it was good enough to shield them and whoever was behind them. After cutting down a slaver, Delvius got in line with his fellows and they all got down to form the wall, ensconcing their knees into the dirt. Gravetanicus, splattered in the blood of his victims, joined soon after.


"Praetorian!" Venaius called, "Get behind us and open the gate!"


I nodded and galloped over behind them, gesturing for Skyfire to get at the gate. Bullets pinged against metal as she dodged the fire of the very angry slavers opening up on us from the Colosseum's entrance. Orders rang through the air as the slaver troops moved into the houses, pushing down and throwing out the denizens of each home as they surrounded us. The wall of five auxiliaries protecting me and the mare arched themselves to cover each side, and soon all that I could hear was the non-stop cacophony of ringing metal as the shields sustained continuous fire.


Skyfire had only gotten the gate up less than halfway when a bullet caught her in the shoulder. She yelled and fell down limp, leaning against the valve and bleeding heavily. More bullets went her way, and all she could do was crawl away to cover, not even being able to bring up her SMG. If she had tossed it over to me I could have returned fire.


So, like always, I found myself in a ridiculously convoluted situation. Perhaps if we weren't under fire we could have slipped under the gate one by one, but as it was trying to do that would have gotten us killed underneath a heavy plate of metal. The suppressive fire increased, striking endlessly against the shields of the auxiliaries. Panic and fear began to grip on all of us; it was evident from the auxiliaries' expressions that they thought death was going to come soon. Worst of all was every second we stood there and did nothing to escape was another second even MORE of the slavers could spend trying to get a better firing position. All they needed was one shot from behind us, and we'd all be done for.


I had once more gotten us into a circumstance where the odds were against us and whatever allies I had in the vicinity, and that really sucked. You have no idea how much situations like this were beginning to really annoy the hell out of me, especially because they were getting more common.


Still, perhaps that day wasn't all bad.


Suddenly the gate behind us started shaking violently as an outside force slammed into it again and again. The noise made was even more deafening than the ear-killing ring of reverberating metal brought about by constant, merciless shooting. The force of the impacts increased, tearing away the gate's vital components -- the hinges and the bolts that attached at to the wall. The fire on us steadily decreased, with more of the slavers seeming more and more worried about what was going on out there.


A quick glance behind me allowed my eyes to look beneath the slightly upraised gate. What I saw underneath was a great many armored hooves, all stepping forward and back in uniform motion. Their forward steps coincided seamlessly with each powerful slam, and the gate was going to fall down soon...


... and by 'soon', I meant at THAT exact moment. Unable to resist the onslaught any longer, the gate gave way to the battering being inflicted upon it and fell inward in a cascade of dust and shattered metal. Glimmering steel shone through the dust, and echoing metal clanged from the depths of the debris.


Roamana Legionnaires stormed through, eight on each side and following a single line. They were very different from the regular Legionnaires of the Equestrius cohort; far more professional, too -- serious of face and efficient in motion, no nonsense. Whereas Equestrius' troops wore the typical zebra bulletproof lorica segmentata, these Roamana troops wore a power armor model that accented their body's muscles. Silvery metal segments clad their torsos and limbs all the way down to their hooves, and their chest plates bore the IPQR insignia in between the golden wreaths. They were different from juggernauts, however, in that their faces were exposed but shielded behind a glass visor.


The stomping columns of glimmering Legionnaires stopped when the soldier at the head of each line ceased. As a single unit, the two columns moved in and shielded the auxiliaries in a much firmer looking shield wall, allowing us to back away. The slavers dared not open fire, not against this kind of enemy at least. Relief flooded into my head, replacing my worry. We were safe, or at least that's how it looked.


I had only turned around when my eyes caught sight of this zebra, clad in intricate ebony musculata (that's the Roaman muscle-looking plate) power armor with golden engravings of proudly posed zebras. His plumes, red in coloration, were not excessively large despite his clear status as an executor. A purple cape hung down from his back. He had an easy smile on his face, counteracting the imposing air brought by the roaring and angry manticore he rode on. That sight alone was enough to get the slavers to back away.


"What's all this then?" he asked in a tone far more relaxed and enthusiastic than the typical grim-faced commander would have possessed. The slavers and I just stared at him, at a loss for words. In her corner, Skyfire was being helped up Venaius as the auxiliaries rushed out.


"Come on Goldwreath!" Delvius said as he got over to me, helping to pull off the zebra mare on my back. "Let's let Flavianicus deal with these louts." I nodded and accompanied him, heading out the gate to find that other auxiliaries had already prepared some healing supplies for Skyfire and the zebra. Gravetanicus and Bailan seemed to be explaining our situation to the others, convincing them to help us out even if they didn't know us.


"Ah, Delvius!" the zebra on the manticore -- Flavianicus, executor of Roamana -- said aloud, sounding eager. "Please, please. Do tell me what has transpired here, I'm quite interested to know! Sadly none of these poor sods look like they'll answer soon." He looked over at the uncomfortable slavers with a pout. "A shame, I really wanted some context from the side of our apparent enemy."


"Then you shall have it!" Seashore yelled angrily, and pushed aside several of his slavers to get right up to the executor. "You..." He pointed a hoof up at the zebra, getting a playfully shocked look in return. "Your soldiers opened fire on mine! I demand an explanation! This violates the ceasefire I was promised!"


Outside of the gate, column after column of power armor-clad zebra Roamana Legionnaires passed by, their discipline so refined that only a few even glanced over our way. Tanks and other vehicles -- artillery batteries and armored cars -- accompanied them. Overhead, aircraft flew by with little interest in our situation.


Flavianicus looked at Seashore with a playfully shocked set of wide eyes. "REALLY?" he asked, askance. "Well, then, I suppose I shall have to halt all of my cohort's movement for a moment so that I may address this problem, my good pony."


He turned his head back and yelled at the top of his lungs, "ROAMANAAAAA! Cease... MARCH!"


His voice itself wasn't what stopped them, but rather the voices of several centurions repeating the order at the top of their power armor's vocal enhancers. Echoes rang out all the way to the back of the marching Roamana cohort, and with an earthshaking set of stomps the entirety of Roamana stood still upon the Via Triumphos.


Flavianicus looked at the assembled hundreds of armed and armored Legionnaires with pride for a moment, then turned to see the unamused Seashore. Flavianicus raised a hoof in the air slowly, gesturing him to speak. "Please, do tell me of your troubles, pony." There was a fake friendly tone in his voice, genuine enough to not sound insulting but forced enough to be obvious.


Seashore stepped forward, nearly reaching the line of shields that separated him from the executor. "Your troops broke into my Colosseum, deliberately taking advantage of my hospitality and waited until the show was almost over before aiding a fugitive in his escape!"


"Woah woah woah woah," Flavianicus replied abruptly, getting off his tamed manticore and gesturing at Seashore with both his forehooves. "Now just hold on there for a second, let me just tell you something -- excuse me, could you move a bit? I need to speak with this pony here up close," he said to the Legionnaire in front of him, and the soldier promptly moved backwards, leaving a gap in the wall. "Thank you my good lad," he thanked as he passed through the gap, patting the Legionnaire a few times on the helmet as he went. At once the other Legionnaires looked to the one who'd been patted with amused little smirks.


Flavianicus trotted a little and met with Seashore, nearly touching the pony's muzzle with his own. While Seashore stared the zebra in the eye with the most disdainful look, the executor looked back with a frustratingly easy smile. Suddenly and without warning, Flavianicus wrapped a foreleg around Seashore's neck and turned them both around, gesturing at the Colosseum.


"Look at the Colosseum, my dear... what's your name?"


"Seashore," the pony grunted, trying to loosen the zebra's grip on his neck.


"Ah, Seashore. Alright then, look at it! This is the COLOSSEUM, my boy. This is a ROAMAN monument, not a pony abode," Flavianicus said slowly, as if lecturing a a child. "Therefore, common logic would dictate that it belongs to us, the zebras. We made it, we own it. It only makes sense, yes?" he asked with a pout.


"I beg to differ!" Seashore snapped. "We were allowed to stay here by the garrison stationed here! Why, you're just forcefully evicting us from-..."


Flavianicus shoved a hoof in his mouth. "Ah, yes!" he said, "The PREVIOUS garrison allowed you to stay here. Speaking of which, where are they?" He looked behind the slaver crowd gathered behind their leader, and within the entrance to the Colosseum saw several Equestrius auxiliaries. Some of them had been wounded, others had been trampled -- the general consensus I had in mind was that they had not participated in the little scuffle earlier, but had been hit nonetheless.


"I'm really going to need to replace them..." the executor muttered, then shook his head and looked at Seashore again. "Now, my boy, one thing you must know is that I am a different leader than the one that tolerated your presence here. I have my own rules and regulations. And, truth be told, I want you out of the Colosseum. Is that so hard to understand?"


Seashore yanked the hoof out of his mouth. "PERHAPS I can concede to that," he growled, "IF you give us sufficient time to relocate. But the fact remains that your troops KILLED mine!"


Flavianicus shrugged. "A terrible occurrence, really, but not unexpected!" he replied, wagging a hoof at the seething Seashore. "Take note that you were hosting bloody spectacles in a place that had had gladiatorial combat abolished from it back during the Renaissance, and that we the Legion no longer host such things. You'd need to understand that my troops were simply protecting Roam's territory from inappropriate usage."


"So you're saying that I will get no justice for this?!" Seashore yelled.


"Of course I am!" Flavianicus replied in an irritatingly playful tone. "You naughty little ponies got what was coming for you; who am I to try to stop karma? Who knows, maybe if you're good you might get a little gift from the universe or something." He chuckled.


Seashore growled loudly and shot a murderous glare at the executor, who only looked back at him with an amused look. Seashore let out a hot snort, and his eyes drifted beyond the wrecked gate and over to me. "You!" he yelled, "Praetorian, I'll have your head for causing all this!"


Seashore yelled again and charged off towards me, but Flavianicus had his hoof on Seashore's collar. With the sound of a choke, Seashore got pulled back by the incredulous executor. "Now, another thing I may have forgotten to tell you..." Flavianucs murmured, looking at me with a queer look. "Aside from the Colosseum being ours... the Praetorian is also a Legion asset. What he did he did on our accord; the ones he killed are ones we killed, those he injured are ones we injured."


'I'm a Legion asset? Since when?' I thought, surprised. Sure I guess only Equestrius had my animosity, but I wasn't going to start working with the Legion unless I decided to!


"You bastard!" Seashore roared. "What you're saying... allowing, INSTIGATING this slaughter... why, all this is leading to an open declaration of war!"


"Oh, heavens no!" Flavianicus laughed like a teacher would at the idiotic comment of a student. "No, see, since we OWN the Colosseum, YOUR intrusion is the offense that we had to tolerate. My troops and my assets were simply... reminding you of your need to find a new abode. Now, as for war... well, you're lucky that I -- Flavianicus Terpidius -- am in a good, forgiving mood, capable of forgetting your long overdue stay in our land and using our people as entertainment." He smiled and patted the angry pony on the head.


Flavianicus bowed gently to the absolutely flummoxed and angry Seashore before going over to his manticore and mounting it again. The creature purred like a kitten at his approach, and he scratched it behind the ear. "So, here's the deal: you and whoever wishes to accompany you will leave and find some other place to live, allowing my assets and troops full pardon, and I don't have Roamana obliterate you right now," he said with a casual little smile. "Agreed?"


Seashore winced and growled fiercely, stomping the ground in absolute frustration and vexation. For just a moment I thought he was going to do something stupid, but then he just looked behind him at his troops, at the tribal zebras looking at him expectantly, and at the Redeye banner on his embassy. Then with a sigh, he turned his gaze back to the executor with a look of defeat. "Agreed."


Flavianicus' smile broadened. "Excellent! Now, I hope you don't mind that I leave a soldier or sixteen here to facilitate your departure?"


Seashore scowled but didn't disagree. He just kept his face pointed to the ground. "Fine."


Flavianicus nodded, looking victorious and amused. "Good. I'll be back tomorrow. If you're all not gone by morning, I'll cut your balls off," he said with an amused smile and turned his mount around, going back through the busted gate. The sixteen Legionnaires within Castellum Colossei stayed behind as the auxiliaries started pulling out and rejoined the cohort. Next Flavianicus faced the entirety of Roamana. Several calls and orders later and the cohort was stomping along again.


"Come on Praetorian," Delvius said as he pulled me away from staring at the scene I had caused; all the commotion I had started, all the death I had instigated. "Just come with us first; maybe you can talk to Flavianicus about your friend and where we should take her. The zebra you brought along will also need to be accounted for, and you're one of the few who can vouch for her."


I nodded grimly and turned, when Seashore's voice called out behind me, accusingly yet softly, "Praetorian. I hope you're happy with what you've done. Do you want to know why those ponies didn't kill you right away? That's because they were just recruits; militia, not slavers. Desperation given bodies. You killed ponies barely out of their teens; they did nothing wrong. They just did what they had to to survive, and that's what matters in the wasteland. Not morality, but survival. I wouldn't expect some well-off, holier-than-thou hero like you to understand that, but it's the truth."


Then there was the sound of hooves behind me. "Now you've driven these desperate ponies out of the one temporary refuge they had. I don't know about you, but I actually care enough for the desperate to understand them when people like you call them scum. Do you even try to understand people, or do you just kill?"


"I do try," I growled back at him, then turned around to look him right in the eye. With each moment I spent there, Roamana moved along and Delvius got even more impatient. "And I would have given them a second chance and left them alone if they hadn't tried to kill me. They made their choice to join you, they chose to follow your orders, and they got what they asked for. There's always a choice, they made the wrong ones."


Seashore looked at me for a moment, almost disappointedly. For that one moment, he actually seemed like a tired pony instead of a proud, haughty announcer. "There aren't any right or wrong choices in the wasteland. No one has much of a choice." Then he turned around, head hung low as he approached his subordinates. My eyes glanced to the supposed slavers, and it seemed like he was right. Now that I really looked at them, most of them really didn't look like sadistic slavers, but rather like regular people who just seemed lost and misguided. Take away the armor and weapons, and they would have looked like any other scrawny and desperate person looking for a life.


Doubt and guilt crept into my head, but I tried to resist it. 'They made their choices; there's always a choice, no matter how tough the situation. Always a choice, always a choice,' I repeated over and over again, but it really didn't make me feel better. No matter what I thought, the fact was that I'd instigated a bloodbath. In interfering, I'd gotten Boagrius killed when he could have lived. Others died in the ensuing firefight, and definitely the denizens of Castellum Colossei had been caught in the crossfire...


I didn't think of anything else but what I'd caused. I just idly trotted out, not daring to look back at the inhabitants of the fort as I left. Delvius let me ride on his cerati, informing me that Skyfire and the zebra were up front and being tended to by Legion medics. That left us the only option of needing to catch up with them. With a roar and a stomp, the animal charged across the side of the marble road, passing by other cerati as it went.


Despite all the dark things I was thinking of, the mere sight of what must have been six thousand armored Legionnaires all stomping along in one organized column, supplemented by aircraft and armor, was truly something to behold. The glimmering of the midday sun upon their intricate armor... the clanging of the metal on marble beneath their feet reverberated through the earth... astounding. Centurions presented their status shamelessly and proudly; auxiliaries galloped up and down the column to deliver news and reports; tanks swiveled their turrets; aircraft zoomed by overhead, rockets and guns pointed downwards. All of it was absolutely breathtaking.


I smiled despite the dark revelation I had thrown in my face. This was a spectacle of Roaman military might, and it was the perfect counter to the poisonous and gloomy thoughts spawning out of my guilt.


Surely Myst and the others wouldn't mind if I let myself a little more distraction, right?

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

"... and then finally there's the 1st century; that's the century assigned as a personal guard to Flavianicus. Kind of like a... semi-praetorian guard," Delvius concluded.


I had spent the past ten minutes riding along behind Delvius, asking him to kindly explain the organization of Roamana. In that ten minutes, Skyfire and the zebra alike just lay down on a sturdy medical platform attached to the sides of two cerati. Upon the slightly rocking platform were several Legion medics who tended to them. Skyfire was conscious but had an oxygen tube in her throat; apparently -- and I say this only because I overheard a bit of their conversation -- Skyfire complained she had some trouble breathing. The fact that she was having trouble breathing worried me, but I decided to leave her care to professional medics. The zebra was unconscious and had salve of medical gel over her wounds.


In that time we had been moving along right beside the manticore of Flavianicus as several centurions upon their own mounts discussed a few things with the playful executor. It was strange to see that the soldiers weren't frustrated with Flavianicus' childish demeanor -- rather, they talked amiably like good friends towards him. That intrigued me a bit; Flavianicus definitely didn't follow the typical archetype of a stern commander, yet... yet he just had a charm that brought about an air of relaxation. Indeed, Roamana's troops weren't grimly silent as they trotted along; they were quite talkative about various things, actually. Their personal lives, their families, their expectations... I guess Flavianicus was just the type of commander who loved his troops and whose troops loved him in return.


At last Flavianicus concluded his discussion with the centurions and shooed them away, laughing lightly as he did. Then his eyes fell on me from atop his manticore and he said aloud, "Ah, Praetorian! Good to finally meet the protector of Roam while we were away and-..." He facehoofed. "Oh, I'm forgetting! Now, first off, I would like to personally thank you for the one, great favor you've done us."


Delvius looked at me and chuckled; clearly encounters like this were quite common with Flavianicus. I looked at him and at the executor with confusion. "Just talk to him like a friend, you'll be fine," Delvius whispered.


Okay then; not normally something I do with figures of authority I had some respect for -- like the way I had talked with Venaius when I first met him -- but if Delvius said it was okay, I guess I could be casual.


I cleared my throat. "And that would be what, er... Flavy?" Okay, yeah, I may have taken it a bit too far there... what can I say, I wasn't the most intelligent at interacting with mares AND my fellow males. Besides, 'Flavy' seemed like an okay short of 'Flavianicus', at least to my ears.


He wasn't in the slightest bit annoyed by the name I'd given him. In fact, that name made him laugh a little. "Well, I'm thanking you -- and your allies, but since they're not here I can only thank you and this pegasus mare -- for kicking Thanus' bitch ass and putting his cohort in their place, of course!" He took in a deep breath. "Oh, you have NO idea how how much I've wanted to have that lout gone, or at least relieved of duty. Or choked, stabbed, poisoned, electrocuted, blown up, shot... you know, dead. Imbecile put Roam into disarray..." He sniffed melodramatically.


"Okay..." Well, sure, I was glad Thanus was dead and that Equestrius was being assigned elsewhere, but I don't think I ever took it to outright glee... "Well, as you know, the Specters and my friends helped out too. Really, I just fell in at the right time, and honestly the Specters did all the fighting; I just went on an espionage mission that... never really went through, sadly." I thought for a moment of that week I'd spent underground, all the horrific experiences I had witnessed. I remember how I used the distraction of planning for the battle to keep myself from taking in the dreariness and claustrophobia of the trot down there. The omnipresent, ambient ring of Tod's signal, the echoing dripping of water in the tunnels, the eery glow of distant plants in the sewers, the endless darkness, the maddening presences in my head...


I shivered; I still wasn't quite over the terrifying things I had seen down there. Truth be told, if it wasn't for the great many distractions I had come across since emerging, I would have been fixating on and trembling to the memories of what happened down there. I also wondered how my friends were handling the memory of the underground; whether or not they had gotten over it or if they were just, like me, distracting themselves with one thought or another.


My frozen posture concerned Flavianicus. "Praetorian? Everything all right? You look rather... lost."


I shook my head hard and turned to him. I could have lied, but honestly the remembrance of all the terrifying shit I'd seen didn't put me in a mood for lying; besides, I wanted to share some of my troubles with people aside from just my friends. I needed a fresh perspective. "No, not really. I just remembered some really, really... bad stuff. Things that I went through in my month out here in the wasteland. Kind of amazing, really. One month... it only took one month for my life to change into what it is now." I paused and looked down solemnly. "I guess I haven't quite adjusted to how... difficult life can be out here."


Flavianicus smiled, of all things. "Ah, I see," he replied warmly. "The life of a fighter isn't easy, eh? See, the general rule is that in fighting for the people... we take on their burdens. We carry the weight of it all so they don't have to. They don't deserve the hell the world is, don't you think? They deserve a life as normal as possible; a life spent with families and friends, a good book near a fire, a cup of warm drink on a cold day, a movie or two ready to watch." With each word he said the gentle smile on his face grew until he seemed like the happiest zebra in the world.


"It sounds wonderful," I replied, wondering if there really was the possibility of a 'normal life' in the wasteland. Then I looked at his smile, and envied him for it. "Flavianicus... how do you deal with it all?" I asked suddenly, and that got me a wide-eyed, childishly-curious look from him. "I mean, how do you... deal with all the shit that happens? You're a commander, surely you've got a tip or two for the stress. Something to think to ease a gloomy day."


"Oh, my dear lad, I think you're mistaken!" he said aloud. "See, I don't 'deal' with the horrors of war. I watch them, grieve them and condemn them, but I don't carry them around with me. I lay them down and think on other things as soon as I can." He smirked, "If you were asking for some kind of life-changing secret of mine, then I'm afraid there's none to be had."


"I'm... not sure if I can believe that," I replied with a shake of my head. "There has to be some secret. It can't just be THAT simple."


"And why not?" he asked with a relaxed smile. "Life need not be complicated, Praetorian. Complications come about when people choose to do things that complicate them. Like you..." He pointed a hoof at me, specifically my Pipbuck. "I'm under the impression you come from a Stable. Now, when you came out here a month ago -- the reason doesn't matter -- you could have chosen to just... survive. To just be another wastelander. Instead you chose to fight, and fighting brings with it complications. Think of life as a tide; you swim against it, and you're gonna have a bad time. So choose: go along with it, or go against it? Really, it all depends on your choice."


"But you're a commander," I interrupted. "You fight too, right? Then how do you seem so... at ease, even in the face of all the things that could kill you? Why so happy?"


He shrugged, "Meh. Life's mysterious like that, I suppose. Like in a book with characters and a well-rounded plotline, there are always some things that can never really be explained no matter how much we try. But if I were to answer, I'd say that... I take it all differently. Others such as yourself who see a dead elderly mare, they'd wish they could have been there to stop her death. I, on the other hoof see it, sigh disappointedly, and move on. I can't bring her back; why dwell on it?"


I thought about all he had said for a moment, and sighed. How I wished I could just let all the things in my mind go -- what I did in the Colosseum, hurting Myst, Predator's craziness, Doodle's bizarre case of joy, my impossible ambition to save Roam, Lighthouse's death... I was exhausted from it all, but I couldn't let them go. Failure and misery would accompany my complacency, and I couldn't let that happen.


"So you just let that kind of mental angst stuff slide, huh?" I asked, ears drooping. "I wish I could do that."


"Oh, don't wish it upon yourself. Your personality, in my opinion well-captured and well-portrayed in Delvius' exquisite little story, tells me you're meant for great things, grand things..." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Like look at Julius Caesar. He fought his entire life, doing more than what was expected of him, to do what he thought was best. Granted he did it all more or less for personal glory, but the fact was that his bold actions brought Roam an era of magnificent change." He looked down at me with a fatherly smile. "I see in you someone who is great. Only those who purposely throw themselves into danger for noble causes can ever hope to obtain the required integrity to make the hardest choices. Sure it puts you through hell, but in the end... well, in the end you get the world under you. And that is an encouraging thought."


He smiled at me again and stooped down from his lofty height, stretched his plated torso, patted me on the back and Delvius on the head, then retracted. Then with an easy smile he looked at the horizon. "I however have no expectations of myself; I'm happy just being a commander. I'm no hero and have no desire to be, so none of that endless fighting-through-all-the-odds-to-become-a-god crap for me, thank you very much."


I chuckled a little; this was a pretty serious topic, but the way he made it sound and the way he talked about it made it fairly lighthearted. And his words... touching. It actually brought a tear to my eye to hear someone aside from my friends say that they thought I was a good pony. I'll not lie, the insecure parts of me desperately needed all the assurances they could get. Conversations like these and the people who instigated them helped me to bear the weight of the wasteland and lit up my world in the face of dreariness and suffering. And this one was particularly good because it was the perfect counter to the remnants of the guilt from what Seashore had told me.


Of course, good as the talk was, it did bring home a particularly disturbing point. "So, basically... because of the path I've chosen... I'm fucked and condemned to a life of pain because I choose to do more than most? And that even if I do succeed I'll be scarred for life?"


"Yes," he replied with an idle smile. "Only the brave venture forth in life, and only they ever achieve anything."


"Right, of course. But what you're saying is... that because of the path I've chosen I'll go through all kinds of bad shit?"


"Of course! Life is hell, especially on those who try. That's why we all need to take some time off when we can; I go on coffee breaks. Have you ever had coffee? Lovely stuff, brought to Zebrica by the Ottomane empire!"


I puckered my lips and nodded a bit, ignoring that remark about coffee (I had never actually had it, though). I smacked my lips together as that cheery little thought settled. "Well... that sucks balls. So I choose a life of helping people... fuck me, right?"


He chuckled, as did Delvius. "Oh, I shan't judge you for the life you've chosen. You chose to risk who you are for a greater cause; the great gambit of life. You, Praetorian, and the people that accompany you, are the ones who truly live life. People like me are merely satisfied fence-sitters. We stay safe but make no name for ourselves worthy of the annals of history."


I smiled at his words. This was one of the few assurances I had gotten that sounded genuine, and one of the few that tried to tell me I was doing the right things in life. I nodded gratefully. "Thank you Flavianicus." Then I looked over at Skyfire riding along on the platform behind me. She looked back at me with an expression I couldn't quite fathom, but I liked to believe that she took his words of praise and comfort into herself as well; he had addressed her as well, after all.


He nodded and smiled in return, then glanced behind him at his troops, all still marching behind him. The aircraft and other vehicles were all still right behind us, flying and rolling over the marble road. Auxiliaries swarmed in and out of the buildings off to the sides of the Roamana column, securing different floors and roads.


Suddenly he looked back to me with a questioning look. "Ah yes," he said enthusiastically, "I don't believe we've been properly acquainted! You've heard of me and of my name, but I've only heard of your title. What, my good pony to whom I owe much including the sanity of my troops while we were in Arx -- we were very paranoid of Roam's situation like that -- is your name?"


"Oh," I muttered. "Right, I guess it's only fair to tell you my name considering I know yours. And... I suppose I can trust you, considering you haven't shot me yet... alright. My name is Go-..."


"Hey, come back here!" yelled an auxiliary off to our side. We turned and looked, and we saw the speeding blur of a staggeringly quick zebra just barely older than a filly galloping over to us. Flummoxed auxiliaries galloped after her as she snaked in between them with more agility than I could have thought possible.


Delvius promptly got off our cerati and intercepted her before she even got near us. Flavianicus and I watched while the other auxiliaries caught up. After a bit of struggling the young zebra gave up, panting heavily and looking at her captor with a childishly hateful pout. After that she tried breaking free again, but that just tired her out more. Her inactivity allowed my eyes to catch details on her body -- tattoos just like most tribals, a small sack tied to her side, a mane tied along to the back of her head in several braids, and golden rings for necklaces. Lithe of build, yet healthy; athletic, really. Maybe fifteen years of age. She looked rather smart, with a certain glint in her eyes, but rugged like any who lived in the wasteland.


"L-let me go, prokaryote! Don't touch me!" she shrieked in a voice both condescending and annoying. She stuck her snout up at the bewildered Delvius, then fixed him with a sharp glare. "I'll have you know, you inbred troglodyte, that that zebra is my sister." She harumphed in self-assertion, then grabbed Delvius' hooves and pried them apart, allowing her to trot on freely.


A very visibly astonished Delvius and several auxiliaries, all perplexed (and so was I) by her shameless insults and fearless demeanor, tried to stop her.


Then Flavianicus laughed aloud like an absolute maniac on drugs and alcohol. That surprised all of us so immensely that Delvius didn't close in on her. The mare eyed the executor like he'd gone mad, which quite frankly he looked quite the part.


"Oh, how I do enjoy the quirks and pride of the youth!" he chuckled as his laughter receded. A centurion cantered along and asked if Roamana should stop, but Flavianicus just wiped his nose, shook his head, and shooed him away.


He got off his manticore and trotted all the way to the perplexed but stoically postured young zebra with a warm, fatherly smile. He knelt before her and wrapped a hoof around her neck, eliciting a slight grimace from the filly. "My dear, good little filly," he started softly, like a father whispering to a child. "Who is your sister?"


"Her name's Zury, duh," she drawled with a scowl, then her eyes lit up with rage. "Hey, if you want to hurt us like your troops did, maybe you could call us by our names instead of calling us 'bitch'! That would be a wonderful change! Here, I'll start: 'Hey Zilly and Zury, get over here so I can rape your assess! The other guys'll take a turn after me, so try to stay awake!'" she yelled, her eyes glistening.


Next she scowled and yanked Flavianicus' leg off of her. "And I'm not 'your good little filly', mister. I don't know who you are and I don't care; you're nothing but a monster like the rest of your fellow hypocrites! Don't even try to act like you care or that you're any better than those motherfuckers, because you're not." Flavianicus' eyebrows rose.


I stared at her, askance. The auxiliaries likewise looked horrified. Was that really what became of mares when Thanus was in power in Roam? Rape victims? Goddesses... at least not all of them were savages, but did they really do that?


I got off the cerati and approached her carefully as she covered her face and sniffed. "Hey, now don't be scared," I cooed. "These guys are different; they really are better than those people who hurt you and your sister. I can testify to that, and I was chased by them for a little over a month. Come on, just give them a chan-..." Then I made the mistake of touching her.


She swatted my limb away. "I DID GIVE THEM A CHANCE!" she screamed and looked at me with an absolute monstrosity of a glare, so fierce and angry that I jumped back. The commotion she was causing was attracting the attention of all the Legionnaires who trotted by. If it wasn't for the centurions keeping them in formation, I bet they would've broken rank just to find out what was going on. Even more indicative of the attention being given to her was the great many aircraft and ground vehicle turrets pointing her way. "I gave you assholes a chance, dammit! So many of us did. Our mom, our dad... our clan... we gave the Legion a chance."


She rounded on the blank-faced Flavianicus with an anguished scowl. "And what did you give us?! Promises of supplies turned to bloodbaths! Water rations became burning fuel! Comfort and advice became rape! Protection turned to homicide! The assurance of a safe place to live turned into a bloodsport, and my sister and I lost the ONLY one of you who actually cared about us! He leaves the Legion to help us because he feels you were doing the wrong thing, then he gets slaughtered in an arena YOU people supposedly control! Just... what the fuck!"


She broke down into a fit of hateful wails and sobs, babbling and cursing in her native tongue. The auxiliaries looked personally ashamed, with their heads hung low and their eyes downcast. I tried to move in to comfort her, but Flavianicus stopped me. He approached her in my stead, his musculata chest plate deconstructing into a thick metal belt around his waist. Next he unclasped his cape and threw it down. Beneath his imposing armor was a hide so scarred with bruises and cuts that his torso was almost completely black from the scabs. My mouth dropped in horror.


Then he looked to the auxiliaries with a smile more forced than I'd seen on him before. "Don't try to stop her," he said. The auxiliaries -- two of which I now recognized as Delvius and Bailan -- looked at him with eyes filled with pained understanding. As if by script, they then trotted over to the marching column and spoke with a few centurions who stood by. They nodded in understanding, and together the auxiliaries and their officers formed a riot line in front of their executor.


Flavianicus sighed and lifted her head up, and she almost smacked away the hoof. But she didn't; rather, she just gave him the most fiery glare I'd seen. "Do you know of the concept of being a punching bag, Zilly? It's in psychology; a punching bag is something that a person can inflict pain upon to vent out all that's been done to him or her. Sadly there's no punching bag manufacturer any more, hehe." He chuckled for a moment.


She didn't soften her expression, and he frowned at that. "Listen, I know you hate us. For what Thanus and his troops did to you and your family, you'll not forgive us. I get that. Couple that with whatever pain the wasteland has inflicted on you, and... well, let's just say that decent people these days need to feel like some kind of justice has been served to move on with their lives. I've... experienced their deep desire for justice firsthand." He looked down at the many scars marking his torso and sighed.


He lay down on his back in front of her. "Go ahead. I'm a nice guy; I'll let you vent that anger when no one else will. I know you can't carry stuff like this around forever without some payback, and I know that someone has to suffer for Equestrius' wrongdoings."


Zilly's eyes popped wide as though a fuse in her head had popped. Then her lips curled into a terrifyingly sadistic scowl.


Horror gripped my mind with a fist of ice. "Flav, don't do this. You don't have to suffer for people like this, it's not right!"


"Ironic coming from you," he replied with a mirthless chuckle. He looked at me with sad eyes, and he must have known I would've tried to stop this. "Get him out of here, Bailan. Oh, and get her sister here, please," he said to the auxiliary, who was far more physically fit than Delvius. The soldier came over to me and started shoving me away, his eyes red and puffy. I struggled hard and got the advantage, but then I saw Zilly begin her savage beating. I could see the strain on Flavianicus' face. His strong resolve etched in an indomitable smile amidst his suffering. I froze dead in my tracks. That gave Bailian the opportunity to stun me with a strike to my neck.


I grunted and yelled as he dragged me away, totally infuriated. My anguish earned me the pity of several Legionnaires who broke formation to try to help me.


"Get back in line!" yelled the nearest centurion as he left the riot line, intercepted them, then threw them back into formation. A cascade of toppling zebras followed, leaving any who fell looking shocked and emotionally strained as Flavianicus' grunts continued echoing in the air.


Several auxiliaries got over to me and took me away. I growled and snarled like an animal, powerless to stop what was to me an act of senseless suffering and the encouragement of acts of hate. How could he do that? It didn't make any logical sense! He helps her vent anger, then what? The chances of her going into a frenzy were too damn high!


The platform with Skyfire and the zebra came close. Two auxiliaries carefully took the zebra onto a stretcher, leaving Skyfire, confused and choked with an oxygen tube, alone. Next they placed me onto the platform, still stunned. The two Legion medics tended to me, but I glared back at them with hate. It was a passing hate, but a hate nonetheless. My only comfort was the feeling of Skyfire's fur on my side, warm and comforting. I felt so ashamed in letting myself bask in it while someone nearby was letting himself get beat up. It just wasn't right; there were other more practical means of venting her anger. Therapy? A dummy that looked like a Legionnaire? Anything at all was better than that.


He was wrong, actually. Whatever he thought of himself, he was a hero. Only heroes would ever put themselves in harm's way with no reason but compassion for others, even if those others were those that were hurting them. Only heroes would pay the price due for an evil person long dead, even if paying that price was just plain fucking wrong.

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

Moving my neck was painful but not impossible. The rest of my body ached from the strain and lack of rest from the last few days; it was only now that I was safe and able to lay down that the numbness faded and the soreness came. Roamana's ludicrous power kept us in a safety so absolute only the most idiotic raider would try anything against us. Soon enough the Legion medics tending to us concluded their work and simply sat on the edges of the wooden board, talking with the riders of the cerati that brought the platform along. Then I just lay still, eyes towards the sky as my mind raced to process all kinds of important and worrying details.


Minutes passed by and the recurring of marching soon became ambient to my ears. I couldn't think, couldn't pierce through the cloud of worry in my head. Had she stopped or had she gone on until she killed him? If she did try, would have stopped her? Did Roamana know what had been happening to their commander behind that riot line? It sure looked like they would have; Flavianicus and his troops seemed quite familiar with each other.


Then suddenly Skyfire shifted next to me, removing my head from her side and sending my skull thudding against the wooden platform. I grunted and looked up, and was surprised to see her slowly removing the oxygen tube from her throat.


"Listen," she croaked, then swallowed. "I know that you're worried and all that, but we really need to get back to the others. Sure we could meet that Legate guy on our own, but I don't think it's really worth worrying 'em."


I swept aside my concern for the fact that she had just removed the oxygen tube from her throat WITHOUT assistance. Hell, if she thought she could breathe well enough without it, why not ask some professionals to remove it? Typical Skyfire recklessness right there.


I gave her a quizzical look for a moment, then relaxed. "Er, right, we should..." I muttered, then frowned. My eyes rolled over to look behind us. "Sorry, it's just that... well, fuck it, HOW COULD HE DO THAT?!" I yelled. "Why in the name of Celestia's oven-baked ovaries would he just let that happen to him? Why would... why?! WHY?! It makes no sense! Who would voluntarily let himself get beaten up for a cause so unlikely to succeed?"


Skyfire arched a brow. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think that the answer is a simple three letters: you." She smirked, "I mean, have you seen what kinds of shit you get yourself into out of your own will? Oh sure, you don't LET yourself get beat up, but the concept's the same. Have you ever wondered just HOW much it worries us to hell? Think of how you're vocalizing your disdain right now, and I can assure you that's how we feel whenever you go through some real nasty shit."


I frowned at her words. Now that I really thought of it, I guess I really shouldn't have been so full of complaints when I made my friends feel the same. "It still doesn't seem right, though," I grumbled, then winced as a jolt of pain shot through my neck as I tried moving it.


Skyfire got over to me and massaged my neck, and it felt SO good. "Of course it isn't right," she replied. "But I think it's necessary, all of it -- what you do for others... what you suffer for them... after all, if you won't go through hell to help others out, who will? I can't speak for Myst or Zaita or even Doodle, but I..." She sighed. "... I just tag along." She paused for a moment. "But nevermind that, remember that time when I killed that Legionnaire and you told me all that stuff about second chances and whatnot?"


I didn't quite know where she was going with that, but I nodded.


"Well..." she continued, "From what I know now, getting a second chance sometimes means giving it to yourself. That's hard. People get affected, you know? Stuff happens to them that makes them want to... to stay angry, stay as the same bitter person. Me with my squad's death... Myst with Predator's fucking antics... you with all the bad stuff that you can't stop and blame yourself for." She pondered for a moment. "It's kind of like a... a book, yeah! Each page is a day for us, and we write what's on those pages. See, if we stay on the same page and never move on... we stop becoming better people. Improvements stop, we stagnate. We need to turn a page and write a new bunch of stuff to get things going."


"Could you... elaborate?" I replied with a quizzical look.


"My point is that sometimes people need to help us turn that page," she replied firmly. "Sometimes, no matter what we try, we stay the same. Sometimes others need to come along and find a way to help us let go of what happened to us so we can move on, and I think that's what that Flav guy is doing. He thinks that she'll never get over it until she's had... something; justice? So he does the only thing he can: he'll give her a chance to feel like she's gotten even so she can just move on. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it's just plain wrong, and sometimes those who'd help out get abused. But hey, at least they tried, right?" She gave me a warm, tender smile as she looked down at my head on her lap.


It was a damned good thing my coat was crimson, otherwise my blush would have been clear as day. Skyfire... was damned beautiful, now that I saw her in this light. Nice new set of thought patterns... great signs of psychological improvement... an attractive, slender body to boot... and I always did love that fiery, indomitable look in her eyes... and a part of me did like how my head was so close to the area between her legs...


I mentally grabbed a hammer and nailed myself to a cross for those thoughts. No. Myst was the pony I cared for, and even then I didn't care for her because of how she could please me. Skyfire was my friend, and she would stay as that. What kind of adulterous tumor in my head would even spawn such treacherous thoughts inside of me? What manner of lustful cancer would drive me to such despicable desires? True signs of a fucked up brain right here.


I swept aside all those thoughts as quickly as I could. My head was enough of an emotional tornado being kept at bay without having such a set of shameful thoughts festering in it. "Yeah, I guess. And... you're kind of talking about me, aren't you?"


"Isn't it obvious?" she asked wryly. "Duh, of course! You go through all kinds of shit for others even when there's nothing in it for you. We've seen what you do, what you'd be willing to do. You try even when it hurts, and that's why I-WE love you." She looked away for a moment to rub the back of her head. "So, don't get all worked up about this, alright? He knows what he's doing; he's a commander. So just take a moment for yourself and let others bear some of the weight of the stuff you're trying to do, m'kay?"


I took in her words with a little smile. So not one, but TWO insightful, comforting talks? How marvelous! "I'll do my best," I replied.


"Good," Skyfire replied. "See Goldwreath? I'm not just some pony-shaped avatar of vengeance and rowdiness. I know eloquent words and stuff too, you know." She stuck her snout up in the air primly, then looked back down at me with a smile. "Now, I need to tell you something that relates to recklessness..." she started slowly.


"Yeah?" I asked, squinting.


She looked off at the horizon for a moment, contemplating. "Well, there's no other way to say it. So I'll just say it." She leaned in close, so close that I could feel her breath on my snout. I gulped, fighting to keep my... urges... at bay. I didn't think that making eye contact with her could be this hard; then again, Skyfire never looked at me with an expression right out of a romance movie.


"Did I ever tell you how much I hated that helmet of yours?" she asked with a sultry tone, and I shook my head. "Well, it's mostly because it always protected your skull from me when I SMACKED YOU UPSIDE THE HEAD FOR DOING SOMETHING THAT IRRITATED THE HELL OUT OF ME!" she yelled, then whacked both my temples with her hooves.


While I was struggling to not vocalize my pain, Skyfire went on one of her typical rambles. "I mean, just what the fuck's wrong with you? Going out there and fighting in that Colosseum like some kind of gladiator; ridiculous! You realize how worried I was when I saw you jump at that minotaur? It felt like my heart was pumping gelatin! And... and you realize how many times I nearly got hit in that fight? I nearly got speared through my face!"


Her raving could have gone on for hours from how angry she sounded, really. For most of the next few moments I just dealt with it, ready to give an apology or two; what I did really WAS reckless -- sure I'd saved a life, but it was reckless nonetheless, and it really worried her. Eventually her very vocal rambling got the attention of the very relaxed-looking medics in front of us. My eyes met with one of them, and he gave me a knowing little smile that seemed to say, 'mares, huh?'


But nothing lasts forever. Eventually I started hearing distant thumps, steadily growing louder, accompanied with the unmistakable fwoosh of flapping wings. I got up off of Skyfire's lap and glanced over behind us. Skyfire had so not expected my rise that she stopped mid-rant, then looked over behind us with a vaguely annoyed expression.


Flavianicus and his manticore half-ran, half-glided up to us, the former groaning and swaying precariously atop the latter. He'd been beaten badly -- both eyes blackened, a bruised neck, scratched cheeks, and sand-scraped limbs. I didn't even want to know what his torso looked like underneath his armor.


Any nearby Legionnaires who'd slacked off immediately straightened, though more out of concern than out of formality. "You alright sir?" one of the medics asked.


"Oh sure," Flav coughed out, rolling his blackened and swollen eyes over to him and forcing an easy smile onto his face. "Mare was tired even before she screwed me over anyway, eheh. Made the session that much less painful. I've been through worse; remember back in Arx when we met that really depressed, muscular mercenary? Ooh, now THAT hurt!" He coughed out some blood, spitting the crimson fluid onto the ground. "Ew, I'm gonna need another salve. My lad, you have anything you haven't used on these two pegasi yet?"


"Of course, sir!" a medic replied swiftly, then rummaged through a sack on the edge of the platform. He pulled out a vial filled with a clear fluid, then tossed it over to the executor. Flavianicus took it eagerly, popped the cork off, then chugged down on the potion. Once the glass was empty he tossed it beside him.


"Much better," he muttered softly. He caught our concerned, disbelieving looks. "Oh, mind me not, you two. This right here is just another day in the delectably wonderful life of Flavianicus Neoferric Vestisian Terpidius! Really, if you think this is bad, you should have seen what other kinds of people made me into a punching bag. Did I tell you about a certain muscular mercenary yet?" He shuddered as though he'd felt a chill. "Don't even ask."


He looked at Skyfire, then suddenly facehoofed. "My gods, I'm very ungentlecoltly today! I asked for the identity of a stallion before that of a mare; scandalously disrespectful!" He took in a pained breath, then asked, "My dear mare to whom I believe myself correct in saying the Praetorian owes a life he currently possesses, what is your name? Mine's Flavianicus Neoferric Vestisian Terpidius, at your service." He stretched a limb to exchange a hoofshake. His leg shook as Skyfire's hesitation dragged on, and he winced.


Finally Skyfire took it and gave a gentle shake. "Name's Skyfire," she said hesitantly, eyeing Flav's battered body.


"Ah, lovely name. Sounds even more fiery coming from the mare it belongs to than from a computer screen. Then again, you can't have a computer say a name for you," he replied with a mirthless chuckle, then frowned. "Skyfire, I would like very much to apologize for what Equestrius' third auxiliary squad did to yours. If I had known how severe his hostility towards foreigners were, I would have gotten back here on my own legs and torn that mediocre piece of shit's throat out-..."


"It's okay, no need to apologize," Skyfire interrupted quickly, wincing as if the memory of it all caused her pain. When she relaxed a bit, she smiled at him. "I appreciate that, really. It's... good to know that you guys aren't all full-blown murderers and total ass-sucking scumbags." She sighed, "Besides, one of your guys already said sorry. No point in repetition, right?"


"Venaius apologized already, didn't he?" Flav replied.


"Yeah..." I chimed in. "But... how'd you know?"


He gave me a knowing smile. "I know my troops, Praetorian. Most of them, at least. I know that beneath Venaius' haughty and maliciously playful outer shell he's a very sensitive zebra. I think it stems from a great many childhood experiences..." He tapped his chin in thought.


Then he shook his head. "Ah, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is, and I believe myself correct in saying this, that you are carrying on from that dreaded event?"


Skyfire clicked her tongue, sucking her cheeks in in thought. "Well... I guess. I still really miss them, though. Stratofighter always got into little contests with me. Cometcaller did love those mac n' cheese boxes we found... Thunderclap did throw the wildest parties... Breezetail had so much ahead of him..." She sighed reminiscently, and a little jolt of icy energy shot up my spine. Yes, of course she'd remember him. In that instant, I was reminded of one of the reasons she had stayed with me. Now that I had rejected her, however, I had to ask... what was her motivation? It didn't seem to be revenge anymore, what could it be?


Flavianicus nodded in understanding. "I understand. If that is the case, I shan't say anything of it; I can tell it's still a sore topic. At the very least, you're learning to get over it. People will never get over their misery unless they let go of what causes them pain."


"I guess..." Skyfire sighed.


Flavianicus nodded again, then looked to me with a wry smirk. "Of course, some types of people must SUFFAH to achieve their goals, right?" he said with a teasing grin.


I returned the grin with a sardonic grimace. "Thanks for reminding me of that, pal. Nothing comforts me more than knowing I've got a life full of pain ahead of me."


He laughed aloud, barely suppressing a cough. "Yes, well, pain AND glory in the end. Life may seem unfair, but it has the strangest sense of karma, really. Often VERY delayed except for those who force its hand. Just make sure you force it to vindicate you, eheh. It would really suck if you made it hate you."


I shook my head, smiling as I took in his views on karma. "I'll remember that, I guess."


"Good. Now, before we move on, I must ask: what is your name? I swear, I can't ask a SINGLE question today without having it muddled up by this or that. Today has NOT been good for me at all," he said, very clearly irritated.


"I can relate, but I'm not going to add to our mutually experienced problems by complicating your simple question. My name is Goldwreath, glad to finally meet some people in the Legion who appreciate me."


He chuckled for a moment and replied, "Oh yes, I can imagine that after Thanus' failed attempt to capture you that someone in our ranks that doesn't want to take advantage of you and your friends must seem like a miracle." His eyes slowly averted to my cutie mark; something I found rather... odd to see from a stallion. Then again he was a zebra; they never did put that much importance into their glyphs the way we ponies do with our cutie marks.


"Goldwreath... interesting name..." he mused.


I raised my eyebrows. "What? Just because some ponies are strangely named after their cutie mark before they get their cutie mark doesn't make me strange."


"Just a little insignificant thought," he replied quickly, dismissively waving his hooves. "Now another thought has just recently struck me," he said, drawing my attention away from the previous topic, "You mentioned your friends. Where are they? I have been informed of vague descriptions only; I believe you saved one of Redeye's enslaved fillies?"


"He did," Skyfire chimed before I could say anything. "And seeing as he trusts you now, I guess he'd be fine with me telling you that they're at the 'Great Library'."


A sickly grimace crossed my lips at her words. Sure we trusted him enough to tell our names, but the safety of two people was a different matter from the safety of the entirety of a group. I did NOT appreciate her so blatantly spouting that out without even thinking about the ramifications. It was like... an auxiliary revealing the location of an entire Legion to a potential enemy; absolute recklessness.


"Skyfire," I said softly through a stiff grin and clenched jaws, "I don't really think that was a smart mo-..."


"The Great Library?" Flavianicus asked aloud, his eyes wide in anticipation. He yanked at his reigns, halting his manticore.


"Yup, the one on that tall hill just a few kilometers off away from where we are right now," Skyfire replied quickly, eliciting a sardonic grimace from me. She really couldn't tell when to be careful unless I told her, couldn't she? Absolute recklessness right here.


His eyes widened as a broad grin crossed his face. "And... are you not going to go to them?" he asked, the grin still on his face.


Putting his unsettling appearance aside, I managed to reply, "Well, I had thought of it... but then complications happened. I guess you could say I wasn't exactly sure if I could just leave when you were getting screwed over."


He kept his grin up. "Yes, I imagine such thoughts and occurrences would weigh heavily on one's mind. Hopefully that Zilly las decides to head over to Forum Roamanum to let her sister recover instead of just storming off."


"Yeah..." Skyfire replied, finding his broad grin unsettling as well. "I, eh, hope so too." Her tone turned cautious as she asked, "And I hope you don't mind, but eh... what's with the huge-ass grin?"


"What's with my grin? Why, my good mare, I grin because I LOVE reading!" Flav burst out, surprising all of us nearby with the volume of his voice. "It's my favorite hobby! Absolutely stupendous in all aspects; the very essence of sentient thoughts made tangible! Reading and literature and all that are in my opinion the greatest of all forms of communication and teaching; and story books, OH YES, story books! Wonderful stuff, fantastic in nature, not boring and full of dread like real life! Unless the story's a tragedy, but we've had enough tragedy don't you think?"


One of the medics leaned in close while Flavianicus went on a ramble and said softly, "You should hear what has to say about-..."


"And what Delvius wrote of you!" Flav said aloud.


"Yes, that," the medic smirked.


"Why, one of the better third-person's I have read in my life, and the only -- and therefore the best -- since I came to the surface! Wonderful stuff; you should read it!" Flavianicus finished, then sucked in a deep breath as he concluded his mini-rant.


I looked to Skyfire while he recovered his breath. With a little bit of effort, I managed to get my message across to her. She nodded in understanding, and we looked over to him as he fought to get his aching chest steady. "Anyway, Flavianicus... now that you bring it up, we really should return to our friends. I bet they're worried all to hell about us, so yeah..." I said lamely.


He panted as he held a hoof to his chest, then glanced over at us with a little smile. "Oh... of course... would be a... terrible thing to... worry one's friends needlessly..." He coughed and forced a smile. "I will let you leave... if I may accompany you."


'Hell no,' was the first thing I thought. For one thing, the guy seemed like he needed medical attention, not a fucking book. Next of course was how Myst and Doomtune and Zaita would react -- sure he was nice, but I bet the operative would see him as just another Legionnaire who murdered people needlessly. Plus it was risky; I could only imagine what a horde of raiders would do to a Legion commander accompanied by a mere two pegasi and a manticore. And don't even get me started on how I thought Predator would have reacted; guy would probably have torn out Flav's guts just to teach him a lesson of pain or some shit.


Skyfire and I went into an unintelligible babble of mixed protests, both of us vocalizing contradicting pieces of reason as to why we thought it wasn't a good idea. Flavianicus just looked at us with an amused smirk, and eventually we realized it was better to stop. Soon he lost interest in our silence and looked over his shoulder at a centurion, then waved him approach.


After a quick exchange of whispers the officer nodded and yelled at the highest volume of his vocal enhancers, "ROAMANAAA! Continue march without the executor!" His order rang again and again as other centurions repeated the call.


Flavianicus looked over his marching troops for a moment, then had his manticore glide above the ground. Whatever protest I had died in my throat at the sight of his proud and confident look, and my eyes looked to the ground. I felt so dwarfed compared to him despite what he'd said to me. After all, he was an established military leader whose word and charisma trumped my own. He bore the name of Roam with him, I was just a famous vigilante. He was so accomplished, so honored... things I wasn't, things I felt were so out of my reach.


But also things I wanted so terribly.


"So it's decided," he said with an easy smile. "Come then. I should like to meet your friends, and per chance read a book or two. Perhaps I'll even let you all sip of the coffee in my canteen; if I haven't drank it all already." He chuckled for a moment, then had his beast flap hard and whisk him off into the sky.


Worry flooded into my head -- worry of how he'd be received by my friends... worry for how I'd explain him to them... those kinds of things. All pointless worry, those thoughts. Worry with justification, but pointless. There was nothing we could do now, after all. All I could hope for now was a good reception when I got back, nothing more.


Skyfire took off after him, giving me a small, sympathetic look of worry as she glanced back at me. That actually made me smile a little; at least she'd help me deal with whatever came. At least I wasn't alone in my feelings. I could let her do some of the work. So without another moment's delay, I extended my wings and took off after him.

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

"Doomtune!" I called again as I knocked on the heavy metal door of the library. "Doomtune, damn it, open the door."


Bucephalus (that's what Flav named his trusty manticore) yawned, his master leaning against his warm fur. They'd both grown sleepy amidst the heat of the afternoon, and from the looks on their faces (yes, it really seemed like the manticore had an expression), they would have happily just slept had they not had business inside the library. "Praetorian, I don't mean to be rude, but um... what if they left? Also, who's Doomtune? That's the eleventh time I've heard that name and I still don't know who it is," Flav said through a set of lazy yawns, then grimaced as he suppressed a cough.


"Doomtune is the operative name of one of the Specters," I replied as I yanked at the doorhandles. "If I say any more than that I may be giving away information he may deem personal, so I can't say anything else, sorry." I only registered his first question then. "And they didn't leave! Come on, they wouldn't just leave."


"M'alright then," he replied, starting to whistle a tune as he waited, fighting to keep his eyes open.


"Damn it," I growled and slammed the gate. "We can't just stay out here like this. Skyfire, help me bring him inside through the windows. I don't think his manticore-sorry, Bucephalus, can fit through the arches."


Flavianicus stopped whistling and looked at us strangely. His expression faded back into one of disinterest, but he promptly got off of the side of his mount, whispered a few things to the sleepy-looking manticore, then approached us and raised his forelegs forward. "Go on then, whisk me off."


Skyfire and I each took one of his forelegs and lifted him into the air. His armor made him pretty damned heavy, even with Skyfire's help. "You think something happened to them?" she asked as she struggled to pull up his weight.


"Well, no one answered when we banged the door... so maybe," I replied worriedly, scrunching up my face as I flapped my wings. "I sure hope not."


Soon enough we managed to land on the interior of the library. Flavianicus' drowsiness immediately faded, his face etched with awe. "My, my... of all the places to have never visited until now..." he murmured as he trotted off, staring at the ceiling with wonder.


"Alright," I said, panting, "Skyfire, help me look around for them; Zaita's the biggest, she can't possibly be that hard to spot. We find her, we can find the rest of them. After that I'll explain to them who Flav is, then we'll iron out the details of getting to the Forum."


She nodded and started trotting, when suddenly a flash of blue lit up the top of the bookshelves, revealing a crouched Doomtune; I could tell it was him because he had no helmet. Truth be told, the only way you could tell Predator and him apart was the former's larger size and heavier steps. Doomtune looked down into the aisle beneath him, then pulled out a blade. My eyes widened and a gasp escaped my mouth.


"Doomtune, don't!" I yelled as I galloped, but he'd already jumped. Tremendous worry shot through my veins, threatening to shock me into inaction. This time, however, it only drove me to move faster as the sounds of a scuffle echoed from the aisle. Skyfire joined me in a frantic dash, and soon we reached the corridor.


"I'm, eck, warning you... I was master of gladius class back in training!" Flavianicus choked out as the operative pushed a hoof into his throat, all the while struggling to sink the blade into the side of the executor's neck. I highly doubted Flav's threat was true; the way he was swinging that little blade of his, he'd probably poke his own eye out.


"Die Legion scum!" was all Doomtune replied, spitting out the words through a muzzle smothered by the executor's hoof.


"Quit it you two, discipline yourselves!" I bellowed, getting over to them and forcefully prying them apart with my forelegs; one of the many times a great physique and a large size helped me out. It was hard, though, what with the way Doomtune was trying to land a stab at Flav's face and the way the executor twisted his body to evade those attempts. I take it back; Flavianicus may have had authority and looked good on flying manticore, but he absolutely sucked at fighting.


It was obvious they weren't going to stop just because of my words, so I had to make them stop through actions; drawing as much power into it, I slammed both of them headlong into each other, causing a tremendous echo of ringing metal. It was pretty ridiculous, but at least they weren't fighting when they both stumbled backwards, clutching their heads and groaning.


Even then, though, Doomtune did not look like he was going to stop. The moment he'd recovered, he charged the still-fumbling executor with the speed of an angry buffalo. I scowled as I readied myself to intercept him, which is when Skyfire crashed right into his chest, sending them rolling and slamming against a bookshelf, with Skyfire on top of Doomtune. He struggled to get her off, but I stomped over to intervene.


Gently shoving her aside, I forced the operative to the floor and planted one of my hooves right atop his throat and started applying pressure. He choked as he glared up at me. "The... hell are... you, erg, doing?!"


"I could ask you the same thing," I replied evenly, giving him a stern stare. "The hell is wrong with you? Blatantly attacking someone without any particular reason... even if it was a damned raider, you don't kill unless you have to, and you only ever HAVE to if not killing is gonna end up with innocents dying, understood?"


"F-fuck... y-..." he gurgled, fixing me with an angry stare. I applied just a little more pressure, and he stopped being able to suck in air. "Kk... erg, alright alright, fine!" he spat out.


I lifted up my hoof and stepped back, and he grabbed the bookshelf and pulled himself up, gasping. Now that I really looked at him, he didn't look good at all -- for one thing, he had choke marks snaking around his neck from earlier today; for another, he'd looked like he'd cried for maybe an hour given how puffy and red his eyes were; lastly, he quite simply looked dangerously rowdy, a little crazy even. Was all this the product of all the stress he'd gone through? Of what Predator had said to him? It certainly looked like it, and it'd... changed him. He wasn't exactly the same relaxed, music-blasting zebra back two weeks ago. He'd become more unstable, and I had to treat him with caution.


"Lad has a rather powerful hoof," Flav said through heavy panting, inspecting a deep dent punched into the side of his musculata power armor. "If I wasn't wearing this suit..." He shivered, then hissed in pain, immediately grabbing his shoulder and massaging it.


"You'd be fucking dead, that's what you'd be," Doomtune growled. Then he looked at me and Skyfire with equal bewilderment. "Goldwreath, what the fuck? You go out for two hours, next thing we know you're slamming on the door telling us to let you and a legion executor and his MANTICORE in? How the hell do you expect me to just open the gate for you when you say that? This..." He pointed a hoof at Flav, "... this murderer could be spying on us for all we know, plotting an ambush even!"


"Not likely," Flav coughed, pulling out a metal canteen and opening it. A strange smell came from inside... was it chocolate? It smelled a bit like chocolate... "See, my lad, I wouldn't just fly eight miles off course from my route to the Forum just to kill people I hardly even know personally." After that he started drinking greedily out of his canteen.


"Oh, shut up!" Doomtune snapped, massaging his throat.


I shook my head; these two were acting like total foals, squabbling over mere assumptions. "That's enough you two. Clearly everyone's had a day that none of us would consider good, so let's not make it harder for each other," I said. "Doomtune, Flavianicus here is the leader of Roamana, a cohort previously assigned to the city of Arx. They are here to replace the Equestrius cohort."


Doomtune tossed his forelegs aside. "And? What makes them different from each other?" he asked, his voice tense and threatening.


"The difference is that they aren't the same murderous, misguided troops," I explained. "Flavianicus here is, unlike Thanus, not an individual with bad intentions. In fact, while Equestrius governed the external relationships the Legion had here -- and for the worse at that -- Roamana seethed and denounced them all the way from their post to the north. See, each cohort is actually a separate entity that can follow the directive of their executor instead of the directive of the Legate, so-..."


"I already know this," Doomtune interrupted harshly. "I already knew Roamana was coming in to replace Equestrius. Last I heard, even those people over in Arx don't take to the Legion too well; what does that tell ya'?" He panted for a moment, then took a few tentative steps forward. Skyfire moved closer in case he tried anything. "How do you know this guy isn't just lying to you to conceal some plot or something? I'm asking how exactly you can even trust this guy even if you've not spent even a day with him."


"None of that distrust crap warrants an attempt at killing," Skyfire said disdainfully. "You can't just attack someone just because you don't really know them; same way you can't trust someone 'cause you don't really know them."


"Oh, sure, you say that now," he muttered, just barely above a whisper. His tone turned deadly serious as he continued, "Well last I heard, you were the one who killed and attacked because of hatred and vengeance, and all for your fricking Fuckd. Hell, you nearly got your living friends killed 'cause of your idiocy! Don't you even dare criticize me, you hypocritical bitch!"


Skyfire's eyes widened, glistening. Soon a terrifying scowl crossed her face, her breathing erratic and dangerous. "Don't you even speak of my old squad like this," she threatened.


I blocked her with a hoof before she tried anything, then looked to Doomtune with a serious glare, holding my own mounting irritation at bay to try to be the voice of reason. "Doomtune, don't blow this out of proportions or I swear I will knock you out cold. Just fucking trust me on this the way I trusted you with my life TWICE, and we can all just walk away from is without any more pain."


He took in a tense breath, eyeing me angrily. "Fine," came his reply in a low growl. He shook his head as he looked at me with disdain, then glanced over at Flavianicus. "But if he tries anything," he said, "I will put him down. So keep that mutt on a short leash, 'Praetorian'." He scowled, then turned and started trotting down the aisle. Right before he left the corridor he rounded on us. "And talk to your damned marefriend over in the bathrooms. Tell her that if she doesn't want me to say anything that'll hurt her again, to stay the hell away from the topic of my parents, alright? Sometimes I regret saving you people, I swear..." With another scowl he turned and left us.


I felt cold and dead inside. What was wrong with the guy? In my absence, he'd hurt Myst, and now that I was back he'd blatantly attacked Skyfire; nearly killed Flavianicus. Just... what? For his actions, I wanted to stomp over to him and throttle that little neck of his. Teach him a damned lesson. But right now I needed to help Myst, all other things had to wait. And it's not like I could blame him entirely; he was stressed out, and now he'd been irritated and angered by people who should have just left him alone. Not like I hadn't gotten angry before; much as I wanted to lecture him, I needed to understand him too.


I just wished the day couldn't get worse...


Flavianicus sighed. "I'm sorry I caused all this. Perhaps if I hadn't come, some of this tension could have been evaded and-..."


"It's fine," I replied as I held a seething, shaking Skyfire close. "This was inevitable. Stress builds up and needs to be vented. You and I understand that, I'm sure. All I can hope for now is that he doesn't hurt too many people too much while he's like this." I looked over my shoulder and smiled as best as I could. "You didn't cause this, alright?"


"Well... alright then. Still, I'll just, eh, drink and read over there... where I'll be able to protect myself if he comes close..." he said as he started trotting off towards another aisle on the other side.


I sighed, then pulled Skyfire into a little embrace. "Don't listen to him Skyfire. Hypocrites are people that don't live up to what they speak. You've been changing for the better and have said only better things since. Don't listen to him, just be patient with him; he's... just confused and angry. Just like you were before."


"I... I know I shouldn't..." she said in a small, fragile voice. "I just... I just wish he didn't bring them back up. I thought I'd gotten over it, that with you guys I could move on or something..." She shuddered and covered her face with a hoof. "But when he... when he..."


"Don't talk if it just causes pain. I understand Skyfire, you don't need to explain to me. We've all lost something we don't want talked about." I shushed gently as I stroked her mane, then pulled away and looked into her eyes. "Just... be patient with him, alright? He's not acting like himself. Take comfort in something you can; that's what I did, whenever I had something to take comfort in back in the Stable. Just wait it out and let it slide; give him a second chance."


She sniffed and looked aside, thinking. Then she looked back to me and nodded slowly.


"Good," I said with a smile. "Now, could you look around for Zaita and Doodle? I have a... er... marefriend... to comfort." I sighed, feeling a cold chill shoot up my spine at the thought of Myst being in pain. I'd seen her in anguish before, so I knew how to deal with her... more or less.


With a few more uttered reassurances, Skyfire felt cheered up enough to trot away. I myself moved, flying up above the shelves in search of the bathrooms. They couldn't be that hard to find, after all. And that was true; the signs for the different genders were right there, on the very edge of the wall beneath the cashier counter I had trashed the day before. I flew over to them and slowly crept into the female section. Soon enough I heard muffled sobs and the sounds of a tin can being opened.


"Myst?" I knocked on the stall door. "Myst you there? Come on, open the door."


There was only silence for a moment, tense and absolute. If I hadn't already heard the noise from inside, I would have thought there wasn't anyone at all. And I certainly wasn't going to peek under the door to find out if she was still there, that was just a plain violation of privacy.


But eventually she shifted inside, sniffing and seemingly tidying herself up a bit. I heard the tin can again; being tucked underneath some cloth, I think. Next she approached. With her hoofsteps came the wholly unexpected smell of mint; meh, candy always did make me feel better, maybe it did the same for her?


The door opened and I was treated to the sight of a very sickly looking mare, mane disheveled and coat filthy from mud and bathroom ooze. Gigantic bags under her red, puffy eyes... trembling limbs... tear marks marring the landscape of her face... what exactly had Doomtune said that hurt her so? It chilled me to the very depths of my soul to see her like this.


I took a little step forward, and she shrank back instantly, curling up beside the toilet. I tried my best to give her a soft, caring expression. "Myst... Myst come here..." I cooed, my voice trembling and uncertain. She just swallowed and shook her head, closing her eyes as if in shame. I sighed and approached, reaching out a hoof. "Oh, come on. Whatever he said-..."


"Please don't," she replied in a voice so strained it thrummed. "Please just leave me alone... I need time to think about... stuff..."


I shook my head. "Myst, you know I'm not going to just leave you alone. Not after you not coming with me to the Colosseum, at least. Just tell me what's wrong; you can trust me, can't you?" Sure, we'd only been together for less than three days, but a relationship entailed mutual trust and aid; she'd been there for me before, and I should be there for her now.


She looked up from the floor and stared at me with wide, fearful eyes. "That's just it," she said, her lip quivering and her voice shaky. "Goldwreath... I'm not sure if I can trust anyone right now. Even you, and... and that makes me so ashamed and it makes me feel so stupid because you're not those zebras who tried to rape me, okay?" Tears flooded into her eyes and she looked away, trying to get her sobbing under control. "Y-you care for me, you... you help me, you go through so much for me... for us. And it makes me want to just lock myself up and die because I feel so ashamed that I still treat you like this, like you'd just hurt me and that you're like them when you're not. And I feel so ashamed because I can't... can't get over just one problem when you've gotten over so many. And tha-that because I can't get over it that I'm just adding to all your problems, and I don't want to, I don't..."


I just looked at her sadly as she concealed her face, crying as quietly as she could to herself. So... this was the wound Doomtune had picked open. Her fear of being raped and abused, hurt and shamed. I couldn't let her do this. I couldn't let her keep this hurt in. I couldn't let any of them do that. I was responsible for them all, doubly so for Myst; that was a heavy responsibility brought about by being her stallion, but one I was willing to face. To test my resolve and my willingness to help... I would take on all their hurt and lay them on my shoulders.


"Listen..." I said softly, cautiously, as I kneeled down in front of her. She shrank back even more, backing up against the wall. "Myst... I haven't gotten over my problems." She stopped crying abruptly at that, looking up at me with a pained gaze. "I haven't, really. It's the truth. At first glance, maybe I look calm and in control. I'm not. I hold it all in, and for that I can't control it when it bursts out. It's hard and painful; causes me regret and shame, feelings of inadequacy, recklessness... painful remembrance..." A sigh escaped my mouth, surprising me slightly; what had started out as an attempt to console her had turned into a genuine sharing of my own pains. "I won't pretend to understand the anguish you're going through; won't try to fathom the fear and terror. But please please understand... understand that for you and for my friends, I'm willing to suffer whatever needs to be suffered. Don't feel like you're just adding to my burdens. I've taken you up as my companions, and that warrants responsibility. I will take care of you, even if it hurts. It's what I'm supposed to do as the... leader... of this little wasteland party."


She looked up at me, eyes wide for a moment. Then she closed her eyes, blinked a few tears in, shook her head, and finally sighed. "I can't let you do that," she whispered. "It's... it's not right. Suffering my problems when you've already got so many... no, I can't do that to you. I can't... I care too much about you to do that."


I smirked at her words. "You're correct; none of it's right. Not the suffering for people who're not likely to repent; not the pain I go through when there are slower, less painful ways; not the fact that I've had my life morph into a battle ever since I trotted out that steel door. But you know... a certain zebra once told me that that's alright. That in the end, life will exact justice when no institution or law can; that all I suffered because I decided not to bow down to the wasteland and its unnatural ways will come back to me with reward. That in the end it'll all have been for something."


She seemed conflicted, wondering how to react to my words amidst all that she was experiencing, all that she was feeling. It must have seemed odd to her, hearing all this talk about suffering pains not my own to achieve a better future. Eventually her facial features settled on one emotion: curiosity. "Who's this zebra? I'd... I'd like to speak with him." There was no other emotion in her voice; no disagreement with what Flavianicus had told me, no edge that threatened a 'I'll smack whoever told Goldwreath that it's right for him to suffer' conversation. Just plain curiosity.


I smiled. "Alright, but you'll have to get up." She looked to the ground again, contemplating. Terrible conflict bloomed in her eyes, and it almost broke my heart to see her so... scared. But she'd been piqued enough to truly get up, and with a tremendous effort over her internal conflict she stood up. "Good, good," I said with a gentle smile and a few easy nods, hoping to keep her encouraged. "Now come, and take it easy. Just follow me and I'll take you to him."


She sighed, then with a forced little smile nodded. I smiled back and turned around, feeling like I'd just glimpsed a terrible underground of brewing problems and potential detriments. It worried me immensely, not in the least because she was trying so hard to fight her problems alone that, in doing so, only let her problems fester deeper. I didn't know what to do, what to say to truly deal with her fears rather than just temporarily ease the tension.


"Goldwreath?" her meek voice called from behind me, bursting through the cloud of concern clogging up my head.


"Yeah?"


She was silent for a moment, then mumbled something unintelligible. Eventually she managed to get out, "I... know it's a little cliche and, er, maybe a bit inappropriate, but... I'm... really happy I met you."


With those few words, she'd put the queerest feeling of warmth and peace inside of me, pulsating to every limb and vein in my body and down to the very foundation of my being, annihilating the dread in my heart and mind. I didn't respond, didn't stop trotting. Instead, I just looked back at her with a smile more genuine than I'd ever given in my life. Our eyes met, and I knew instantly what it was I felt. It wasn't perfect, probably wouldn't have lasted forever; hell, it could have come in a situation less tense. It may have been young, may have needed some more time and effort, but no matter what it was all the same.


It was love.

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

"Yes, mhm... oh, what an exotic twist!" Flav said aloud. He was reading a rather thick book, the title of which I couldn't see. He seemed to be enjoying it greatly.


"That's him?" Myst asked shyly from behind me. "He's right here? But... he's... he's a Legionnaire..."


"A Legion executor, to be exact," I corrected.


"Goldwreath... are you sure we can..." she started softly.


"We can," I assured her. "Trust me. I wouldn't just bring someone hostile into our company; this guy and his troops are different from the inhospitable ones we used to know. Equestrius is moving on, Myst, and in their place will come Roamana; maybe in a few weeks time, the Legion's bad image in Roam can be cleaned up." I gave her a little smile. She thought for a moment, obviously pondering what to make of what I'd just told her. I couldn't blame her; when I was told the Legion as a whole didn't hate me but rather liked me, I was a little bit confused too. Finally she gave a little nod. "Come on, he won't bite. Guy'd probably make some comical remark about your hoodie if you tried attacking him or something." I rolled my eyes.


She looked at me with insecurity. "My hoodie? W-why, what's wrong with it?" she asked as she held the hood close.


"Eh... I... merp, eh... oh just come on, there's nothing wrong with it," I stuttered out, nearly facehoofing in embarrassment.


We trotted over, doing our best not disturb him as he started laughing like a moron. "Flavianicus," I said simply.


He chuckled to himself for a bit, then glanced over at us, a tear of laughter on the brim of his eyes. "Eheh, hello Goldwreath. Hello..." He looked over at Myst curiously, eyeing her up and down. "So, more ponies! What's your name, my good mare? You this young buck's marefriend?" he asked, then looked to me and gave a wink.


I nudged her forward, closer to him. She let out a little squeak as she got closer, giving me a worried glance. Next she looked at him with eyes large as dinner plates. She panted for a moment, before slowly reaching out a trembling hoof to greet him. "Y-yes... I-I'm Myst, nice to meet you..."


Flavianicus looked at the hoof with a smile, then literally threw his book into the air and took her foreleg into his both of his. "Ah, pleasure to meet you! My name's Flavianicus Neoferric Vestisian Terpidius, at your service!" he said, bowing his head down at the end. He leaned in close and whispered, "Just call me Flav or Flavy, most people call me that."


"O-okay..." she murmured uncertainly, her face quizzical.


I chuckled a bit, shaking my head. "I'll just leave you two to talk, then. I have a few things to do..."


Myst rounded on me before I could do anything, her mouth agape as she shook her head in disapproval. "W-what? No, please don't leave!" she begged, the pleading in her tone so sincere that it hurt to hear her like that.


I tried to sound as reasonable as possible as I explained quietly, "Myst, you can trust him. He's done things for people someone who'd want to hurt others would never do. Besides, I need to call everyone here so we can discuss how to get to the Forum."


"But... but I..." she stammered, clearly having nothing to say but unwilling to be alone in his presence.


"Am... I causing anything again?" Flav asked, eyebrows up as he looked between us.


"No, it's fine," I assured him. "Myst, come on," I whispered, "You said yourself you wanted to talk to him; here's your chance. Besides, don't you ever want to get over... that?"


She hung her head and sighed shakily. "I do..."


"Then you're going to have to try to talk to a stallion without treating them like those same zebras, because they're not. Those who tried to hurt you are dead, alright? I saw them all, all their corpses. You're going to have to trust me with this guy; he's nice, probably'd just let you beat him up if you asked him if you could." Okay that last part was a bit of an exaggeration, but still.


She let out a little whimper, but eventually gave an uncertain nod. "I'll... I'll do my best to get over it. I don't want to keep living like this..."


I smiled, but withheld the embrace I felt brewing inside of me; I didn't think she'd like physical contact just yet. "Good, I'm glad you're trying to get over it. Now just stay here, I'll go get the others. I'll be back in just a bit, so don't worry."


I turned and left briskly, doing my best to try to live up to that assurance. Besides, I wasn't just hurrying up for her; now that the not-so-relaxing trip to the Colosseum was over, we had to double time confronting Legate Vesperius about that megaspell. Like hell was I going to have Roam get blown up.


I trotted out into the middle walkway of the library and called out as loud as I could, "Alright guys! Don't know where you are, but it's planning time! Meet over here so we can iron out the details of getting to the Forum!"


"Finally," Doomtune snorted above me. He was sitting atop a wooden plank connecting two of the bookshelves. "About time we planned how to get there and deal with this." He jumped down and landed with a roll, then glanced over his shoulder to fix me with a wry grimace.


Before I could reply some wise-ass retort or convoluted remark, the distant brush of air blowing against the ground emanated from down the main walkway. It was Zaita, gliding over to us and blasting books and paper everywhere. Above her was Skyfire, in whose hooves was held the energetic little filly that I'd grown to be very confused about. Good thing they were all approaching; rendered my job of looking for them unnecessary, and made the decision making process that much quicker. Myst and Flavianicus alike emerged from the corridor they'd been in, both seemingly confused that the talk I myself told them to have was ended so abruptly.


With my companions gathering, my eyes caught sight of the zebra operative sitting behind me. What concerned me then was how he looked at the two who'd come from the corridor; a scowl like that just promised intent to hurt. He watched their movements with almost predatory caution, like deep down he himself was scared they'd try anything. It made sense; if what Myst had told me on our little walk to meet Flav, she said that she'd made the mistake of asking him how he felt about his mother being a rape victim and how he felt being a rape child. I guess the truth was that... he was hurt just as much as the rest of us and didn't want us butting in.


His expression only softened when Myst's eyes looked into his own, then held there in a stare. She was definitely scared and hurt, but she was trying to understand. And he knew she was trying to understand; I could... feel it. I could feel his desire to be understood, slowly undermining a foundation of irritation and hatred. It was a tense moment, seeing them like that; in moments of great emotional relevance, emotions could drive people to do almost anything for no apparent reason.


At last he sighed deeply and looked at her with a more neutral expression, but distrust remained in his features when he looked over at the executor. I let out a tense exhale; I was really going to have to get him to trust Flav. Sure he was a Legionnaire, but I just needed to make him see that Roamana wasn't the same as Equestrius.


Zaita arrived, blasting us with wind until her engines powered down a notch. It was when the wind died down that Flavianicus' mouth dropped at the sight of the APC, his face the very essence of awe. Zaita showed a more curious behavior: she approached slowly, nearly touching his agape muzzle with her camera, before circling around him with the camera fixated on his face. Myst slowly backed away, not wanting to get involved in... whatever it was Zaita was doing.


"Flavianicus Neoferric Vestisian Terpidius, commander of Roamana," her voice declared, spot-on correct. "We meet at last."


"S3 Harpy-class APC, assumed transport of the Praetorian and his friends," Flav replied, his voice rendered monotone with wonder, as he eyed her with the utmost curiosity. "It is... it is a great privilege to finally meet the AI of such an esteemed class of armored sentience!"


"Please, call me Zaita," she said, "I prefer to get to know people instead of following such cold formalities. I hope that the mere fact that you're a Legionnaire hasn't caused you too much trouble upon your arrival in Roam? I understand not all people know of the independence of cohorts when not under direct order from the Legate."


"Oh yes, finally someone who gets that!" Fav replied with an exasperated throw of his forelegs. "It's been terrible, Zaita, just plain terrible. Ever since arriving, I've been beaten up twice by two different zebras. Don't even ask, please." He let out a tense, irritated exhale before putting on an easy smile. "And please, just call me Flav or Flavy. Or... or even Neo! Yes, I like that better!"


I rolled my eyes and shook my head slightly. Amusing as their conversation was, I had a greater concern to address. First of all was making sure all my companions were here. There was Myst, Skyfire, Flav, Zaita, Doomtune, Doodle...


"The heck's Predator?" I murmured, looking around searchingly. What, was he planning another dramatic entrance? Maybe suddenly burst into the conversation from some dark corner? Oh, I seriously hoped he wasn't; I'd had enough of his crap for one day.


Skyfire's own eyes widened in apparent revelation. "Oh yeah. I didn't see him yet. Where is-..."

"Mister Predator's gone for a little while!" Doodle suddenly piped, nearly making Skyfire and I jump up in surprise. "See, mister Predator said that there were some things he had to do. Told me to tell you he'd be gone, but you two already left. So while waiting I told the others instead!" Her voice quieted down to in of thought as she continued, "But I think that mister Doomtune did something to miss Myst, I think they had a little fight..." She pouted, frowning at the 'fight' she knew nothing about. "Anyway, miss Zaita's been the one who who really listened to me so far." She gave me a broad grin, stretching her cheeks to ridiculous lengths. If it wasn't for the fact that she was the most adorable filly I'd ever met, I would have found her grim scary as hell.


"So he's gone, huh? Figures. Did he tell you what he was gonna do?" I asked.


She shook her vigorously. "Nuh-uh! Only told me that he'd bring me a little present when he got back; how sweet! Don't you just love him? I've already made my present for him, see?" Suddenly she whipped out the same teddy bear doll I'd seen with her the day before, except this time it was stained black with ink, had little grey outlines of armor on the body, and had a little makeshift helmet made of tin. Two red buttons signified the eyes, and a pouch filled with papers crudely stapled to the rear represented Predator's backpack.


"Oh, I'm sure he'll love it! I'll call this doll 'sir Funnyvoice' until he gets back!" She lifted the doll in the air, then proclaimed in a terrible imitation of Predator's new voice, "'Oh hi, Doodle, I'm sir Funnyvoice, here to keep you company 'till mister Predator gets back!' Oh, how sweet! Thank you sir Funnyvoice!"


I stared at her with the most disbelieving expression I could muster. This... this right here, this little filly, was posing almost as big a question to me as Predator himself. I mean... making a doll of the person who tried to kill you? Madness!


I shook my head, banishing those thoughts. "Alright, everyone gather around." At my words, everyone but Zaita and Flav nudged closer, preparing their ears for discussion. "Alright, first off we're going to need to-..."


Flav gasped and stiffened at the sight of the filly, then put on a cheeky grin. "And who is this little ball of energy, hmm?" Flav asked playfully as he scurried over, before promptly picking up the little filly and tossing her into the air, much to her enjoyment. "Oh, how I do so love little foals! Makes me proud to have two of them back home..." He sniffed, a little tear of joy coming to his eye.


Doodle smiled warmly at him, wiping the tear away. "I'm Doodle, mister. I like drawing! Oh, I can also do this!" she said, then crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue in between her lips. With those two details, the playfully dumb smile she gave looked so much more adorable than any other smile I'd seen from her, so much so it made my heart flutter just from the mere sight of it.


"Doodle, heh..." he chuckled with a warm little smile. "My, eh, my own little filly likes to draw. Or rather doodle, coincidental eh? Hehe, oh boy..."


Okay, this day was getting stranger and stranger with each passing second. Heartwarming as it was, the fact was that it was very... unexpected, and just a tad bit freaky. Hell, everyone was looking at them; that had to mean they were weirded out, too. "Oookay..." I said slowly, "Now that everyone's here, I think it would be the right time to concentrate and figure out a way to get to the Forum." I made sure to say those last words specifically towards Flavianicus and the operative eyeing him with contempt and the filly with disbelief.


Flav wiped his face as he put the filly back down. "Yes, of course! Eheh, you'll have to forgive me, I just... really love little children. I... I see in them the fruit of all that we Legionnaires fight for." He patted her on the head, and Doodle bended her head sidewards to push up against his hoof.


"Can we get on with this? There's a megaspell waiting, in case you people forgot," Doomtune said impatiently. "Sooner we take care of this, sooner we can all rest easy."


"Ah yes, the megaspell..." Flav sighed, pulling his hoof away off Doodle's head. "I assume that you people must have had a computer to find that out... or rather an APC with enough processing power to break into our secure channels?" he asked, looking over at Zaita.


"I believed it necessary to inform them," Zaita intoned. "Goldwreath here has the desire to protect Roam, and when we first met I told them I'd join them so long as their goals were for the good of the Empire. As such, I found the idea of another megaspell apocalypse... unsettling. I had to report it to him so he could do something about it."


Flav nodded. "I understand. Such objects are ones I myself are uncomfortable with, but bringing it here had to be done. With the remnants of the former Empire in such danger, Vesperius sees no alternative than to hope that such a weapon will... take care of a problem or two. He hopes to never use it, but I know that he will if he ever has to."


Skyfire scowled."Just what could make you people even want to use a megaspell, huh? What, hasn't the world suffered enough already? Just... why a damn megaspell?"


Flav looked over at her with a grimace. "Sadly, I'm not at liberty to reveal just what it is we plan to use the bomb on, if we ever use it." At Flav's sour tone, Doodle pressed against his forelegs and nuzzled him with a little frown. He smiled at the contact, and she smiled too.


"That sucks ass," Doomtune snorted. "Just tell us what the damn thing's for! It's a gods. Damned. MEGASPELL. Damned things ended the world, you want it to end again?"


I stomped hard, getting everyone's attention. "One concern at a time, and we'll discuss those concerns with the appropriate people, Doomtune. Flavianicus is not the person best approachable for questions regarding the megaspell. Right now, our concern is getting into the Forum so we can talk to Vesperius about that, nothing more."


Doomtune snorted and rolled his eyes, putting on his helmet as he shook his head. "Fine," he said through his mask, "But don't try to stop me when I interrogate the Legate later."


"We'll all be interrogating the Legate later, I'm quite sure," I replied, gaining me an agreeing nod or two from my friends. "As of now, though, we need to find a way to get to the Legate."


"Getting into the Forum may have variable levels of difficulty based on how you choose to proceed," Zaita informed, "If what I've gathered on the Forum's defenses is correct, they have an invisible field that scans and maps out any entity within it. My cloak only reflects light, not object scanners. We will appear on a holographic map plain for all to see if we were caught in the field."


"Keeping hidden from the Legate isn't necessary, my dear Zaita," Flav said simply. "He has, if what I've heard from inter-cohort radio chatter is correct, been trying to arrange a peaceful meeting with Goldwreath here ever since... what, three weeks ago? Sent Thanus to bring you in, I think; hehe, but I'm sure that haughty little prick made it look like the Legate was forcing you against your will, huh?"


"You... have no idea," Myst said, nearly choking on her first word; sure, she'd grown more socially capable, but then again the only ones she'd grown familiar with was us. Towards new people she kew nothing about, she was old Myst just like she was back in Road Town. "They... attacked, and they..." She shivered.


"Mhm, yes, that right there's all I need to hear," he said with a sickly grimace of bemusement. "However you people decide to enter the Forum, the only ones you'd best conceal yourselves from is the Equestrius garrison. They're not likely to try anything with Roamana around, but best not to tempt them. Now, as for the praetorian guard..." He smiled and pulled out a little radio. "I can contact them as soon as we're in range and tell them to bring you to the Legate."


"So this is the plan? We go with you to the Forum, cloaked and concealed, and trust in your word that the guards don't mistake us for assassins or something?" It had its risks, but it was simple, and it certainly didn't seem like it could go so terribly out of proportions like my previous plans had. Then again, any plan could go to hell...


Everyone thought for a moment. Then Zaita turned to face me. "If it is, I have more than enough energy to sustain the cloaking mechanism for an hour. I detect no deviations in Flavianicus' body temperature suggestive of anxiety, so he shouldn't be lying."


"Good, then it's settled," he nodded. "That is... if everyone else fine with it?" He looked each of us over. "I understand that, despite knowledge of the Legion's general approval of your actions or neutrality, that suspicion and distrust can still be present in your heads."


Doomtune kept his head bowed as he thought aloud, "It's simple... could work... a lot less time-consuming than sneaking in... There's really no other way?"


"Certainly none that's less simple. Unless you just want to charge in, that's as direct as you can get," Flav replied.


Doomtune thought for a moment, squinting his eyes. Finally he sighed, "Alright, fine. I'll go along with this, don't know about you guys. I'll go... prep my stuff," he said with only the barest hint of hesitation before trotting off, glancing back at us as he did. I wondered whether or not he had ulterior motives to agreeing, but then I decided to just take the little blessing of his approval.


"So everyone's good?" I asked, looking each of my companions in the eyes.


"I don't really see much alternative..." Myst mused. "And this really isn't the most dangerous plan I've ever agreed to... alright, I'll go with it." She smiled at me, but then frowned. "I just hope I don't have to talk to too many people while we're there..."


Skyfire approached and patted her on the back. "Relax, only guy we'll need to talk to is that Legate guy," Skyfire said, gaining a faint smile from Myst. "I don't really like the part where the 'praetorian guard' bring us over to him, though. What if they try something?"


"They won't," Flav assured. "Those guards have absolutely no affiliation to any cohort, not even Roamana. What you did to Equestrius and whatever propaganda they spread about you has no sway over them. Their only allegiance is to whoever has the most authority to be in charge of Roam, and as the Legate is the only official who has that power, they listen to him. He has desired your presence, and so they'll allow you to pass. All they need is a little notification from yours truly," he said proudly, then bowed.


"That's... good to hear, I guess," I replied uncertainly. "But what's with the guards? They sound... ominous."


"Oh, you'll all get to see what I mean," Flav replied with a chuckle. Then he raised his forehooves into the air before we said anything else. "Alright, enough talk! I have to wake Bucephalus up before he gets too lazy to fly, and you need to prepare. Off with you now, gather your equipment!" After that he turned and trotted off, leaving us no chance to speak. I didn't quite mind; the plan was stated, and it was ready to be put into action. Besides, I had to remember that Flav was eccentric; for that, he could be very... unfocused at times.


"Ooh, who's Bucephalus? CAN I MEET HIM?!" Doodle asked shrilly, gaining a cheeky grin and a nod from Flavianicus. After that they departed, Doodle skipping along beside him as they went.


"Well, so ends the planning talk," I said quietly. So, this was it. After a month-long extension of what was supposed to be a three-day journey, this was how I'd meet the Legate. Heh... appreciated but forced to hide... liked by most but hated by some... how had all this happened in a month?


I shook my head and turned to face my first two true friends on the surface. "You two go off and prepare, maybe rest if you want. Just be ready in ten minutes," I told them, then started trotting off. They departed, trotting together and talking about what had happened at the Colosseum. I left them to it, but hoped that Skyfire didn't make me look overly reckless in her tale.


I made my way over to were I'd left my stuff, then promptly took off the dusty old cloth I was wearing in exchange for the chainmail shirt I'd acquired. My weapons were all readied in under a minute; I'd grown used to efficiently handling and preparing my equipment even with my bare hooves. The weight of my saddlebags felt strange on me after a few hours of not wearing them, but that sensation faded quickly.


Next I went for my helmet, and...


"What... w-where the fuck's my helmet?" I asked in a rush, scanning the immediate vicinity and tossing books and knocking down piles as I searched frantically.


My eyes caught sight of a faint glimmer of steel, and to my immense relief there it was: just a little bit down an aisle, against a fallen book. I sighed loudly and trotted over to it, then picked it up and handled it carefully, my hooves shaking as the fear of losing it faded in my mind. That was when I noticed the most peculiar thing: words, scratched onto the inner surface of the metal.

So, you save a life, but speed the end of others... you also killed a pony or two with little practical reason. You're selective, but you're still a murderer; just like me, just like Thanus, just like the raiders you call scum. The only difference is that your morals blind you from the truth.

I stared at the words; the words that I felt violated the integrity and sentimental value of the helmet that represented the role I played. Total disgust bloomed in my head; disgust and denial. I was no gods-forsaken murderer, damn it. I killed because if I didn't innocent people would die. I killed because some people just got in the way of fixing society, and had to be removed.


Sometimes giving second chances and being merciful were too risky.


"I'm no murderer," I muttered, then strapped on the helmet. It felt wrong now; tainted and cold. I had to sweep those words aside; they were just the essence of the mentality of a crazy person, and I was not that person. They didn't apply to me, not by a long shot. And yet doubt snaked along the edges of my consciousness. "I'm no murderer," I repeated.


Suddenly a pain throbbed in my head, echoing in my ears like a gong and pulsating through my brain's veins like acid. Had it not been for the fact that I'd experienced worse, I would have collapsed. Through the noise and pain came a voice:


'So you think,' Tod said, laughing.

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

We'd caught up with the massive cohort before they came within four miles of the Forum, and for that we now flew high above them. Roamana's marching resounded through the floor and into the cabin as we flew over the original Roaman island. Hundreds of professional soldiers all stomping along to one collective beat and goal; the discipline they displayed, the awe they inspired... remarkable. Doomtune'd convinced us to not bring the Umbra aircraft along; he said something about retrieving it later and turning it over to the Specters. Aircraft zoomed by us, oblivious of the cloaked APC they were sharing airspace with.


But while the outside was in motion, the inside of our cabin was tense and still. None of us had said a word, not even Doodle, who'd seemed ecstatic after having belly-rubbed Bucephalus but now looked nervous. Myst just sat still in her corner; Skyfire hid her face under her hat; Doomtune bobbed his head to a slow beat; Zaita was absolutely quiet -- all that compounded the suffocating tension that grew with each passing second. I had, just had, to break this quiet.


"Right, so I'll clarify this one more time," I said, "Flavianicus is up front, leading Roamana. The moment he enters the walls, he'll contact the praetorians and tell them to expect us. Therefore we do not enter the structure until he's given the signal; remember, he'll pull out his sword and pretend to clean it." I took in a shallow breath and gulped. "That clear?"


"You already told us three times..." Myst murmured, looking up at me. "Goldwreath, I know you're a bit nervous, but please try to... er, relax."


I let out a shaky exhale. "You're right, you're right. It's just that... even though we shouldn't have any problems, that we're supposed to be able to just walk in there if everything goes right, I just can't shake this feeling inside of me. I don't know, I feel... volatile. Like my insides and emotions are all twisted up and gaining tension for when it snaps. I don't know if it's just anxiety, guilt, stress, or even fear." I just couldn't help it. Despite all this planning and all the assurances I' gotten, I felt like something would go wrong. No matter how much I tried to relax, my heart and mind wouldn't, both constantly working to process one thing or another.


Maybe it was natural; Flav said I was a fighter, therefore, perhaps, I was meant to be in constant thought and motion. That's what a part of me thought; others begged me to give myself a break, to just truly relax and let my burdens fall to the shoulders of others. I mentally beat the crap out of those parts; they were telling me to be lazy, and that laziness would allow the death of innocents.


"It's just anxiety," Doomtune deadpanned. "Trust me, I've been through many an anxious wait like this; you just gotta calm down and keep your head clear. Just like back in that elevator, remember? When we were trying to save Myst over here?"


Myst's eyes popped wide for a second, then she frowned and shivered, tucking herself closer to the corner. Skyfire glanced over at her, but didn't do anything; she looked to be thinking deeply on something, maybe distracting herself from her own worries.


Doomtune sighed, his eyes darting to and fro between Myst and the floor near her, and scooted a little closer to the huddled up earth pony. He tried to speak, but his voice cracked. He swallowed then said slowly, "Myst... I'd like to, eh..." He coughed, then muttered, "... to... apologize. For what I said earlier. I didn't mean it. I don't regret saving you, I was just... really ticked off."


Skyfire and I both fixed our gazes on him, wondering how he'd proceed. Doodle didn't, but rather started chewing on and drooling over the little pink sock Myst had given her.


Myst didn't meet his eyes as he continued, "You know... the things Predator'd said to me earlier... they hurt. And they hurt because all of it was true; they really did hate me. They saw me as nothing more than filth, a raider-in-progress even if the only thing I ever did that was scrounge and scavenge. It was fucking unfair... totally fucking unfair..." His breathing became erratic for a moment, but he calmed down. "Look, just... sorry, alright? Ain't right for me to say those things to the one person who understands my pain enough to try to help me."


She didn't move, didn't react. She just stared at the floor blankly, seemingly emotionless. Then she blinked and looked him in the eye. Slowly, a relieved little smile crept onto her face. "Thank you for helping Goldwreath save me," she said quietly. It wasn't exactly a response to what Doomtune'd said, but the tone in her voice was all he needed to hear to know he was forgiven.


He looked at her for a moment, then cast his eyes down and slumped against his backrest, looking exhausted. Skyfire idly lifted a hoof to pat his shoulder and said softly, "S'okay, dude. You did good apologizing."


He looked to her and sighed. "I'm sorry to you, too. It wasn't right talking like that about the people you did everything with. I know how it feels -- I had friends killed in front of my eyes, too. So... we good?"


Skyfire smiled and nodded. "Yeah. We're good." Then she frowned. "But if you say anything like that again I will knock you out. Do we have an agreement?"


He smirked. "Yeah, sure. So long as you don't bring up those dirt-napping assholes I called mom and dad, that agreement'll stay."


I turned my attention away and looked to the front of the vehicle, letting my companions engage in whatever little conversation they wanted to partake in. Good as a distraction was in that tense moment, at least one of us had to keep a head concentrated on the task at hoof. I scooted over closer to Zaita's terminal and saw a great many pictures of the Forum swarming across her monitor. It wasn't even in a nice, clean, organized fashion; the images bumped into the edges of the screens, piling up in layers and causing the monitor to lag as more images came in.


"Zaita, anything wrong?"


The images stopped flowing and the camera turned, slowly, to face me. It zoomed in, nearly touching my muzzle. "So much has changed in two-hundred years, Goldwreath. My maps are obsolete, my data old. As we near the Forum, my access to the Databank network grows more complete. I am... attempting to renew my stockpile of information."


I nodded, "That's good and understandable and all, but... you have... ten-thousand eighty-two active applications and images? What, are you trying to tax yourself to capacity or something?"


The camera focused on me for a moment, and as I looked down at the screen I saw the number of active processes drastically reduce to a far more fathomable several hundred. "I am... nervous," was her reply. "It confuses me, Goldwreath. I am an AI, created by the Roaman military's scientific division in cooperation with the ZSI, and yet... yet I feel. It is strange, now that I think of it. Back in the war, I was used to such an extensive degree that all my processing power was focused on tactical maneuvering and combat planning. Now that I have spare thought capacity... the concept of being more than a machine is dawning on me. And it is... strange."


I looked into the camera for a moment, concerned. "And how long have you felt like this?" I prodded.


"Emotions have been with me ever since my creation, now that I take the time to remember, but all these questions truly initiated when I upgraded at the ZSI HQ," she replied. "At the sudden influx of additional processing power... something activated within me. Emotions I had not known were suddenly injected into my system. I feel... I feel... like something is amiss. That something within my programming is in the wrong configuration. It makes me curious and afraid. I'm concerned for my identity."


I glanced over at my other friends, making sure they weren't hearing all this. They had enough concerns, and I didn't think Zaita'd like all that spreading around without her consent. I thought for a moment as I looked back at her. "Maybe it's because you're not just a machine," I said softly.


Zaita's screen immediately went blank, with nothing upon it but a cosmic purple background and a golden line in the middle. "What do you mean?"


"You feel, hence you are no mere machine..." I mused. "Zaita, are you absolutely sure you're a program? That all that you are is a complex set of codes meant to create a convincingly life-like persona?"


"It... it has crossed my mind. But it can't be. I have analyzed the parts of me that give me my identity over and over; nothing that could suggest I am more than a computer. That is all I am. A machine of war, with no soul or anything of the sort. Just data." Her camera cast its sight down, as if the uttering of those words greatly depressed her.


"Hey, hey," I cooed, slowly forcing the camera to face me. "It doesn't matter if you're a machine or not, alright? Machine's just a word; it doesn't matter. What matters is that you are Zaita. You have an identity; to Roam you were an object, but to me and my companions you're a friend." I smiled as I let go of the camera. "It doesn't matter that you're made of steel or that you were made to serve. What matters is that you feel and think and act, and that's all you need to be a living being. A sentient being, with a soul and a heart and a mind. You're no mere object; you're a person."


For the longest moment she just stared at me, screen dormant and camera still. "Thank you," she replied. Then in a voice I'd never heard before, with no mechanical tune and without monotone blankness, she said, "If only they saw me as that..."


Now it was my turn to stare. What was all this? I'd... I'd never known Zaita had any problems. In fact, given how problematic all of us were, she seemed the sanest. Now here she was, sharing with me a problem she'd kept to herself all this time. "Zaita-..." I said softly, when the vehicle stopped abruptly, nearly sending us crashing to the front.


"We are here," she said.


At once every thought left my mind, replaced with immediate desire to see the place I'd worked so hard to get to amidst a sea of plans that went terribly wrong. I rushed forward, leaning against the controls, and looked out the window even as my friends piled up behind me. I didn't mind; this was a big moment for all of us, one we'd all be right to take part in. After a temporary haze of light that blinded me as I looked up, I saw it.


Majesty at its finest.


The Forum stood a mile above the city, thanks in no small part to the mountain it stood on. Simple in exterior construction but elegant in design, it appeared as a glimmering white tower of marble shining up and above the dreariness of the ruined city around it; a statue to hope -- hope for the reclamation of the past, the glorious upbringing of Roam. What had appeared to me in my dreams and in pictures as a featureless circular tower, however, was actually a tower with intervals every dozen meters for windows that encircled the structure and pedestals upon which stood statues so small in comparison to the Forum itself it would have been very easy to not see them even in the full light of day. A majestic spire of gold and red stood at its top, appearing to us as petals above some dome-like structure.


And then of course there was the sight beneath us. Hundreds upon hundreds of olive green tents and miniature marble temples stood erect where in memory orbs had been a wide garden of lush green grass and multicolored flowers. And to my shock and against all expectations, that field of magnificent colors was still there, engulfing the tents and marble in a sea of lush colors such that the structures themselves looked to be drowning in an ocean of rainbow. Only carefully paved paths snaked in between the vegetation, ensuring walkways that protected the paradisiacal environment from careless trampling. The only part of the scenery that was in any way ugly was the great ring of brown dirt close to the wall and surrounding the greenery; that was where the tanks and armored vehicles were parked. The aircraft, not contributing to that ugliness, instead had landing pads built onto the slopes of the mountain itself. The artificial branch of the Tiber flowed in the middle of the massive camp, dividing the entire walled-off area into an outer ring and an inner ring, and a wide stoned path paved the way from the entrance to the foot of the stairs leading up to the Forum.


To put it simply, it was the most damned beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The Colosseum may have been the Roaman icon, but the Colosseum didn't look like it hadn't been touched by war and age! My Roaman-loving heart was pounding in ecstasy at the sight before me, and even my friends seemed downright awed, with mouths hung so low they could have dipped into the underworld. Good! Roam's beauty should rightfully ensnare the admiration of all!


"Take. Us. In," I said blankly, staring at the sight before me.


Zaita turned to face me. "Goldwreath, we still have to wait for Flavianicus' signal before we enter the scanner field beyond the walls. And even if I wanted to, I can't; there is an invisible shield surrounding the Forum that will only collapse for the duration of Roamana's entry."


I shook my head. "Er, right! Yes, we must wait, yes. Wait and be patient. So... when does he get in?"


"Right now, I think," Myst said, sticking her face against the window as she looked down. "If my eyes are right and that little smudge down there's him... woah, the wall's glowing gold and transparent..." She must have been referring to the holographic walls the Forum had for its defense; I remembered how I felt when I saw it back in Caidan's memory. Suddenly a trumpet sounded from directly beneath us, reverberating through the metal floor. "Okay, he's stepping through the wall now."


Alright, this was it. "Bring us in, Zaita. Keep track of what he does; remember, he'll clean his blade. That's the only way we'll know he's notified the praetorians."


Zaita hovered through and steadily brought us closer to the ground, her exterior camera fixated on Flavianicus and displaying his image on her screen. It was hard to keep track, though; the image was constantly in static, no doubt caused by the interference of the scanner field, and the troops surrounding him mixed in with the picture such that I almost lost sight of him. It was also a bit hard to keep focus on him when there was a very picturesque environment just begging to be admired. Finally, though, he and Bucephalus went over to the side of the path, letting Roamana swell into the field. Equestrius troops stood by, watching their entrance with mixed faces.


He drew his blade and inspected it, polishing the metal with his hoof.


"That's it," Skyfire said. "That's the signal, let's go!"


Zaita's engine powered up and blasted us across the sky. As we drew closer to the arched pavilion that stood at the Forum's foot, I couldn't help but let my anxiety leek out of me to make way for an aching anticipation. The bright light of day turned to a looming shadow as we hovered beneath the Forum. The others had mixed feelings as we landed on the floor beneath the wide arched roof, but I sure as hell was excited. This was the place emperors had ruled from! This was Roams heart, both as a city and as an empire! This singular location, and no other, was where the decisions that would shape Roam's identity were made. This was the very center of the ancient world, deserving of all the glory and praise it got.


Our transport landed with a metallic thud, and we rushed out the back door. As soon as I was out, I couldn't help but feel so proud of myself -- proud for finally having gotten here, and proud to have stood upon such famous ground. I kneeled down, feeling the marble, so precious and unstained... the ceiling, pure and white, with red and gold IPQR banners flying in the light breeze... so... beautiful.


My friends had recovered from their awe far quicker than I -- even Doodle, who tended to marvel at such things -- and Myst trotted over to me and nudged my shoulder. She said in a tiny, absent voice as she looked up at the ceiling, "G-goldwreath... come on..." After that she trotted over to the gigantic metal door, eyes still cast upwards.


"Right," I muttered, then nearly choked on the drool that had accumulated in my mouth. After a bit of swallowing and coughing, I joined them and found them staring at the door.


"So how do we get in?" Skyfire asked, giving the doors a light push.


"That is a valid inquiry," Zaita intoned. "If my data is correct, these doors have locks that cannot be opened from the exterior. We will have to call the guards inside and hope that Flavianicus has properly informed them of our arrival."


"If they don't answer, you think we could just fly in through some balcony or something? I saw a couple of 'em," Doomtune offered.


"Absolutely not," Zaita responded. "I am no praetorian guard, but I take respecting the Forum seriously. No breaking in. We must wait and see if the guards have been informed to open the door for us."


"I'm sure they have," I said with an awed smile as I approached. "I can feel it. They're right behind the door." I could hear their breaths, faint and infrequent; I could feel their hearts pumping as sure as I felt my own. I could sense their anticipation.


"Impossible," Zaita disagreed. "While visual and thermal verification is impossible at the moment, I sense no noise coming from within. Not the slightest sound."


"Then my perception's better," I replied blankly, then placed my forelegs on the door. "They're expecting us, I'm sure of it." With a grunt, I forced the doors inwards. The heavy metal swung in with ominous silence as I stepped through, eagerly anticipating a welcome...


... which I got in full, in the form of two dozen gladiuses pointed right at my face by the black musculata-clad, tyrian purple-caped, and bronze-masked praetorian guards, all silently pointing their swords at me from behind a wall of shields. Shock overcame my system not for the last time, and I froze where I was even as my friends had the control to try pulling me back.


Metallic stomping came from behind us, and out of the bushes surrounding the open lobby came more praetorians, all decloaking and appearing in a flash of blue. They surrounded us, encasing us in an impenetrable trap of a very formidable looking shield wall. I turned and turned, overcome with a disbelief in what was transpiring.


"Yes, we are," one of the guards rasped as he stepped forward. He was different from the others; far larger plumes on the helmet, and a mask clearly made of gold whereas the others wore bronze. He looked me over, rough breathing emanating from behind his mask. "But that doesn't necessarily mean we expect you with hospitality in our hearts."


"B-but..." I stammered. Hadn't Flavianicus contacted them? I swear, if that bastard set us up... Suddenly I drew myself up. "I am the Praetorian," I said flatly, "And I am expected by the Legate."


"The mere fact that you just happen to fit the Praetorian's description to the letter and are even accompanied by people who appear to be the exact same companions and even the same vehicle..." he said, pointing an armored hoof at my transport, "... does not mean you are him. I will trust only a credible individual, none else." Suddenly he drew a gladius from his belt and positioned himself behind his shield.


"Hey, wait! Come on, this is just plain ridiculous. Can't you see the helmet on my head? The triple numeral? Who else wears this but me, come on!" I yelled in exasperation.


"Could be a mere replica," he deadpanned. Suddenly he turned his attention to the numerous praetorians around him. "Praetoriaaans! We are armed with lightning!"


"Fulminata!" they all bellowed at once, and suddenly the very pristine white marble columns off to our sides shot bolts of lightning that landed first on the sword of the praetorian commander before forking off and lighting up the swords of all the others. Blinding flashes and and electrical sizzles flooded my senses, sending me and my equine friends staggering backwards.


Zaita canted her front down in an attempt to ram them, but suddenly the praetorian commander shot a miniature bolt from his sword and struck her right in the camera. Zaita fell to the marble floor with a clang, deactivated.


"Such is the fate of those who would shatter the two-hundred years of peace we've fought to maintain in the Forum!" he spat, then ordered, "Arrest them!"


With a unified 'hawoo', they were closing in on us. No words would stop them. Not the desperate pleading Myst gave, not my rage-filled demands, not Skyfire's threats to melt their faces off, nor Doomtune's forceful orders to drop their weapons or suffer ear-splitting electronica. Not even Doodle's queer behavior of holding up her Sir Funnyvoice doll gave them pause.


"This is fucking ridiculous!" I said at last, then whipped out Tankbuster. "Come on, come and get it!" I didn't want to, but if these people didn't stop I would blow off their heads; more important than meeting the Legate was my life and that of my friends!


They didn't balk or stop, and it made me want to scream because I didn't want to shoot. I didn't want to kill these people. My killing was reserved for barbarian scum like irredeemable raiders and slavers, not dutiful praetorian guards! But if I didn't shoot, what would happen? Would my companions shoot? Would they just surrender and let us be brought as prisoners inside? Most of all, would I let that happen? To shoot and endanger my friends or to balk and compromise my mission?


Damn it, why were decisions so damned hard?!


But suddenly, right as the blades closed in on our throats, there was a high-pitched beep, loud enough to be heard over the slow marching. Apparently it was important, because at its sound they all stopped, turning to look at their commander. The beep came again, this time numerous times.


The commander reached for his belt and pulled out a small radio. "What is it? Whoever you are, you choose the most terrible moment to interrupt our duties."


"Whoops, sorry," Flav's voice said. "Just wanted you to know that that Praetorian guy Vespy's been wanting to meet? Yeah, I kind of met him on the way here. He'll be arriving soon, in a transport; S3 harpy named Zaita, nice personality -- you should talk to her when you get the chance!" He chuckled to himself for a moment, before concluding, "Alright, so yeah. Carry on and all that, I need to clean my blade for eh... stuff. Oh yeah, final detail: Praetorian's pretty serious and a little ill-tempered to threats if what I've been told of him is true, so try to be welcoming."


"Gods dammit Flav," I hissed, letting out a steamy breath. "Almost ruined the damned plan; ydiota..."


The praetorian commander looked between us and the radio for a moment. "I rescind my statement," he drawled, "You have excellent timing."


"'Course I do!" Flav said eagerly, as if he didn't know the guard was being sarcastic. "Comes with being an executor; you gotta have a knack for perfect timing and stuff. Could you just imagine what would have happened if I didn't contact you, and the Praetorian arrived there? Heh, you'd probably have tried to arrest him or something." He laughed.


"Yes..." the praetorian drawled. "Excellent timing indeed."


"Alright then, gotta go. Still have to clean my blade for... you know, stuff. Really important stuf-Bucephalus! No, no licking the radio! N-..." There was a crackle of static.


Skyfire rolled her eyes into the back of her skull and facehoofed; Myst looked like she'd chewed something sour. I had to stop myself from joining Skyfire in smacking her face. Yes... Flavianicus had excellent timing, that is if you wanted timing meant to irritate everyone.


The commander strapped the radio back to his belt and looked at us for a long moment. He sheathed his blade and looked to his fellow guardsmen. "Disperse and return to your posts. Flavianicus is a credible source as far as I'm concerned."


The praetorians nodded and did as told, with those who'd come from the bushes disappearing in a flash of blue while those who'd met me first spread out inside the Forum. That left only the commander, staring at each of us with a serious-faced mask of gold. "Come on then," he said flatly, then turned around. "Your vehicle will remain here until it reactivates. As for you five, I shall take you to Legate Vesperius."


"And that's all you'll do?" Doomtune asked suspiciously. "You threatened to arrest or kill us, then suddenly you're all flat and emotionless?"


"Not emotionless," he replied as he got further inside, "Just doing my duty with the appropriate emotions and behavior. I don't care who you people are or what you've done, but if Legate Vesperius wishes to speak with you, then I shall take you to him." As soon as he got in far enough for his steps to echo, he turned and stood there, waiting for us.


Skyfire let out a deep exhale of relief. "Well, that was close," she muttered, hovering in place.


"A-a little too close," Myst said, panting slightly. "I thought for certain something really bad was going to happen."


I shared their worries -- this unpleasant first few minutes did not give a good impression about what would happen, but there was nothing to be done now. All I could hope for was that nothing else could possibly go wrong. "Come on then. No point in stopping now when we've come so far to talk to this guy."


With a bracing breath I trotted in, my friends close behind. A brooding admiration for the colossal majesty flooded into my mind at the sight of the perfectly preserved tapestry and furniture, but I held it at bay. I'd seen it all before, after all. My friends, who had not, stared up at the ceiling and at the hanging banners with utmost awe. Doodle galloped in circles and skipped every so often, absolutely ecstatic from the sight. And as we approached the stairs that I'd seen in the memory, she seemed to turn it into a game to make faces at every stoic and motionless praetorian we came across. They didn't react; I suspected they didn't quite care what she did so long as she didn't break or touch anything.


We climbed up the steps, my attention quickly turning from lingering awe at my surroundings to the silent praetorian commander leading us. "So, you people serve Vesperius?"


"We serve Roam," he replied flatly. "The mere fact that he is the only official with any semblance of authority to properly govern the empire should not dissuade us from aiding him."


I stared at him for a moment as we continued down the halls and closer to the giant semicircular door I'd seen in the memory; if I remembered right, it held the meeting place of the legates. "Alright, I can tell you'll not touch that topic," I murmured. "Let's try something else here. How about introductions? My name's Goldwreath, nice to meet you." I stuck out a hood in front of him, stopping our advance.


He stared at me with those lifeless, shadowy eyes, then pushed my hoof down against the ground. "Names don't matter, Goldwreath. Especially not ours. We are praetorians and work as such, nothing more." He started trotting again, and my friends, who'd idly stopped without question, followed him again with similar silence, their attention fixed on the opulence of their surroundings. "And if you were a real praetorian, you'd think the same..." he said quietly.


I let out an irritated little growl as I caught up to them, already within the meeting room. It was different now; no ominous fog or motes of light. All that removed, it looked like how I'd expected it to: an ovular wooden table with seats about it, with a specially decorated purple-cushioned chair on one end. The place was an absolutely pristine white marble all over, except for the floor, which had specks of black here and there. "Fine, you won't give me your name," I said as we passed by the table and towards a door I'd not seen in the orb. It was large, made of carved bronze and had finely decorated doorhandles. Above was the IPQR logo in big gold letters, in between two golden wreaths and behind that a translucent map of the Roaman empire at its height.


"Can you at least tell me what's up with the masks? Far as I know, praetorians don't wear those." My attention turned to the big door in front of me, and I gulped; this was it -- right behind this door was the zebra I'd spent a month trying to get to. "Or if not that, at least tell me what the Legate's like," I insisted, my voice tense. All I wanted was a little information here; was that so much to ask for?


"You ask too many questions," he rasped sourly, shaking his head.


"It's all in the name of trying to be prepared," I replied, fighting to keep my heart from pounding. "Now, what's he like?"


"Why don't you ask him that?" he replied, them pushed the two heavy doors inwards. While they swung in, he trotted behind us and nudged us all inside before slamming the doors closed. I made sure to shoot him an irritated glare before he did.


"I'll be damned..." Doomtune murmured. "Guys back in the war lived in style, I'll give 'em that..."


"Seriously? Where the hell did this people get all their damned money?" Skyfire said, irritated. "It's like Roam was the richest fucking city in the world..."


I turned and directed my attention to the scenery my friends were so interested in, and I wasn't disappointed. If they were awed by it, then I was absolutely rendered breathless and frozen with ecstasy by it.


Roaman interior designs never failed to impress me.


The room was circular and very wide, maybe a hundred meters in diameter. Before us lay a vast open floor of polished white with patterns of black marble circles, and off to our sides were pillars placed at intervals to reach all the way to the other side of the chamber. Within the intervals were busts and statues of different noble zebras, all either marble or bronze in make. Red and purple banners hung from below the ring-like window about twenty meters up that ran the length of the area's edge.


But while all that was amazing, what really got my attention was that the building was hollow. I couldn't even see the top as anything more than a pinprick of red. From the floor all the way to the very top it was only empty air, lit up here and there by light flowing in from the windows, and that light then reflected off of the shiny and brightly colored marble surfaces to illuminate the entirety of the chamber in dancing yellow. What was more was the gigantic translucent map of the ancient Roaman empire decorating the entire first level of the cylindrical chamber, right beneath the first ring-window. And on the far side of the chamber was the great marble throne of the emperors, shining gold from the illumination of the afternoon. My only qualm at the time was that I could not take a closer look.


As was typical when I absolutely fan-gasmed over something Roaman when my friends were nearby, they recovered first. While I sat on my haunches, staring up at the flawless beauty before me, Myst trotted over and gave me a gentle nudge. "Um... G-goldwreath?" she asked, renewed anxiety in her tone.


"Uh... uh, oh, yeah?" I asked dumbly, then shook my head. "Yes, what is it?" I looked and saw her hoof pointing to the center of the chamber. There was a little brown table there, with the black and purple forms of two praetorians on each side.


"Is this it?" she asked softly, darting her eyes between the table and at me.


I took in a deep breath and drew myself off the floor. Much as the scenery was good, I had a goal to accomplish. "This is it," I replied, then looked over at the table determinedly. There was a zebra behind it, too far to note any interesting details. I turned and looked all my friends in the eyes. "Come on," I said, then began trotting over. Our steps echoed ominously through the air, and as soon as we'd gotten close enough to see the carvings on the praetorians' masks, I saw him.


The Legate.


He sat upon a simple chair of dark wood, cushioned red. The semicircular table was no more elaborate, being nothing but a mere platform upon simple boxy legs. There were a great many stacks of papers and envelopes and even piles of scrolls on both ends of the table, along with numerous smaller counts of all that in the middle. A pair of simple candles stood on both edges, unlit, and an inkwell with a quill inside stood close to the Legate's hoof. An hourglass stood atop a small stack of folders. The Legate himself was quite the anticlamctingly simple sight; short-cropped mane and a simple black chest plate with a purple cape upon his back, and nothing else. No elaborate insignia of any sort, no air of imposing pride. Nothing but the gaunt face of a very serious-minded but very bored zebra.


As we watched in silence, expecting a greeting of a sort, he grabbed one of the papers on one of the left stacks, looked it over for a moment, let out a deep breath through his muzzle, then grabbed the quill and wrote something on it. He turned to the guard on the right, who had in his hooves several papers and envelopes already. "Give this to the senatorial representative when he comes up tomorrow as well; or rather, just leave it on the corner table for them to find. I might not be available for conversation tomorrow. Might," Vesperius said in a very calm, tired, and immensely bored tone.


The guard took it and nodded, then added it to the folder.


Vesperius nodded in return and turned his attention to another paper. He took it in his hooves and leaned against the backrest, but then looked right at us. His eyes were narrowed from obvious exhaustion as he looked each of us over. Skyfire raised her her eyebrows when he looked at her; Doomtune gave a little glare; Myst took a step back, a small whine escaping her mouth; Doodle gave him the widest grin I'd ever seen. To each of them he seemed to have only the barest of interest -- except for Doodle, he looked at her longer than the others.


His eyes lingered on me in particular, though, his gaze drawn to the helmet on my head. At the scars on my hide. Our eyes met and I felt a shiver run down my spine; this was the guy I'd spent so long trying to reach. Even if he was unimpressive to the eyes, the mere fact that I was here now before him... it made me feel the exact gravity of where I was. Suddenly, all those days I'd been out there and what I'd gone through rushed into my head like a train, making me remember it all. I shivered slightly as he kept his gaze on me. I felt vertigo flooding my senses.


But then just like that, as if we were nothing but air, he turned his attention back to the paper. The feeling of vertigo left me, but I still felt... small. Small in the presence of the building that'd spawned all of Roam, and most of all... tired. Very, very tired...


"Why is he still alive?" he asked simply.


"Sir?" one of the guards rasped.


"I am asking the Praetorian," he replied evenly, reading the paper.


I shook my head, my sleepy mind struggling to come up with a proper response. This was definitely not how I envisioned my first encounter with the leader of the Legion. I let out a tiny breath of exasperation and asked, "Why's who still alive?"


"That slave master, Seashore," he replied evenly, now comparing the previous paper with another in his other hoof. "Why is he still alive?"


I shook my head in indifference. "I don't really know. Flavianicus decided to let him leave with his supporters."


"Well he shouldn't be alive. It vexes me... I'm terribly vexed," he said blankly as he quickly signed the second paper, then handed it to the guard. He didn't sound vexed at all.


"Alright, enough trivial crap," Doomtune growled, then stomped over to the table. "Why the hell have you got a megaspell coming over here? Have you lost your gods damned mind?"


Vesperius narrowed his eyes tiredly at Doomtune, then said calmly, "Don't use the gods' names in vain, operative." He glanced at the hour glass, then looked back to Doomtune. He dipped the quill in the inkwell and started signing papers again, saying, "As for your question, I am sadly not quite at liberty to discuss such a topic with any of you. Yet, at least. I myself am not quite privy to why the senate demanded it; megaspells aren't likely to be the only answer to the problem we're having, even if it is gigantic." He opened up one of the table's drawers and procured from within a sealed envelope. After examining it for a moment he asked, "You are a Specter, yes? Would you consider yourself their representative in this matter?"


Doomtune let out a a flummoxed exhale, darting his eyes irritatedly here and there as he leaned against the table. "Yeah, I'm here on their behalf," he replied, repressing his annoyance.


Vesperius handed him the envelope. "Good, give this to Madran. Within it is a proposal for the conditions of a ceasefire."


"A ceasefire?" Myst asked softly as Doomtune stared at the envelope in his hooves.


"Yes a ceasefire," Vesperius replied, not even looking her in the eye as he started compiling some signed papers in a red envelope. "War with the Specters was not something I desired but merely something poor decision making on Equestrius' part has caused. I'd have called for a ceasefire sooner if the operatives didn't keep killing my messengers or ignoring my attempts at contact." He snorted, a small scowl on his face. Then he relaxed and his expression turned calm again. "In any case, I'd like that to end."


Doomtune raised his head slowly, his hooves trembling slightly as he looked into the Legate's eyes. "This... this'll stop the war?" he asked softly.


Vesperius paused and gave him a quick glance before resuming his compilation. "If Madran accepts the terms, yes," he replied flatly. "That and the decision of your leaders in Canterium Prime, of course."


Doomtune started shaking slightly, his hindlegs threatening to give out. Skyfire's eyes widened, and she got over just in time to support him before he collapsed. "The... the fighting'll end..." he said, trembling. "It'll all be fucking over... no more sleepless, bloody nights... no more..."


Vesperius looked at him, his eyebrows raised and his face showing the barest signs of concern. He looked to the guard who had nothing in his hooves. "Take him to the guest rooms. He looks as though he'll start babbling."


The guard complied and pried the shaking operative from Skyfire's hooves, then dragged him across the floor back out the door. He didn't even try to fight back, and Skyfire herself didn't look capable of mounting a struggle; like me, she too seemed tired. I myself would have voiced concerns on the truthfulness of where he was being taken if I didn't need to keep rubbing my eyes to keep them open.


"Where are you taking mister Doomtune?" Doodle asked, her forelegs on the table and her eyes wide and pleading.


"To the guest rooms," he replied simply, not even looking at her. Then he glanced at her and saw her head looking back at the operative, childish concern in her eyes. He sighed, rolling his eyes."If you want you can accompany him, I'd certainly not mind the reduction of possible distractions."


Doodle looked back at him with a small, thankful smile before galloping after them. Vesperius kept his eyes on her as she went. He seemed curious; blank-faced, but his eyes indicated he was wondering about the strange little filly.


"The... the guest rooms?" Myst asked, her eyelids suddenly heavy as she swayed sleepily. I got over to her and pressed her against my chest before she collapsed.


"Yes, the guest rooms," Vesperius replied, this time taking a visible interest at the sight of me holding the mare close. Then with a shake of his head he reverted back to his blank face. "Caesar put them there during the war to accommodate visitors who wanted to speak with him. Of course, he wasn't always available, so they waited there until he was. The rooms aren't particularly elaborate, but the place did its job well enough. Nice view on the balcony, too."


"Sounds... nice," Skyfire yawned. I looked to her concernedly. I guess we were all tired at the time; going through the most ridiculous experiences on a day-to-day basis tended to exhaust people.


Vesperius seemed a bit concerned as he looked between the three of us. "Are you three alright? You all seem rather exhausted." He rolled his eyes with a small scowl. "At least you can rest when you're tired... damn paperwork..." he muttered sourly.


"I... I guess we are pretty tired, yeah," I yawned, looking them over. Perhaps the adrenaline of finally getting here had kept us awake the past few days? I couldn't imagine someone going through what we went through without getting tired; surely something had kept us up. I gave Myst a gentle shake as she started drifting off. "Myst, you need to lie down or something?"


She shook her head and blinked hard, then looked at me with a tired, forced smile. "It would be nice..." she murmured, then her eyes shot wide open. "But um, I can stay awake. We came so far to talk to this guy, and that's what we should do, not sleep."


Skyfire blinked hard. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, absolutely. Talk now... sleep later..." She swayed, her eyelids dropping over her eyeballs. I had to pull her close to keep her from falling, too. In addition to being tired, now I was filled with concern. I wondered how much they'd repressed their exhaustion just to keep up with all the shit we went through.


Vesperius smirked, looking back at the papers. "You should all rest for a while; trust me when I say I know the value of rest. Rest and knowing one's limits, that is. I've pushed myself over the edge enough times to know when someone needs a break." He started rummaging through a pile of scrolls, reading them one by one. "Hmph... Gaius Scipii requests more denarii loans... I'll consider it..."


I scrunched up my face, trying to stay awake. Wow, I hadn't realized I was this tired. I mean, I'd felt fine most of the day. "I'm not quite for the idea," I groaned, rubbing my eyes. "I've spent a month trying to get here and faced all kinds of crap in the process. Went though all kinds of hell and pain that even a freaking masochist wouldn't have liked in the slightest."


"Yes, like inhaling Black Cloud that you're quite lucky to have survived," he replied as he started stamping a seal into some envelopes. "You should see someone about that by the way; those who survive things like that tend to have a nasty surprise later on when the spores emerge from the dormancy whatever potion you used put them in."


"I can deal with it later," I said. "Of all the things to do now, I am not going to go to sleep now that I'm here. If I did I'd feel like I wasn't doing justice to the importance of the occasion. Besides, I thought you wanted to talk to me yourself?"


"That I do," he said as he started rolling up a few scrolls. "But I called for you when I had the time and most of all patience to parley with you. That time is passed, and now I'm swimming in a sea of notifications, messages, senatorial requests and demands, combat reports, and all kinds of absolutely dreadful paperwork." He groaned for a moment as he rubbed his temple with a hoof. "It is not fun in the slightest."


I panted for a moment. "Tha-that doesn't really make this meeting any less important. If anything, it-..."


He raised his hoof up. "That's enough for now. Praetorian, I understand that you have many concerns that you'd like to speak with me about. If I were in your place and I heard of a megaspell in the city I lived in, I'd want a good few answers as well." He looked me and my basically asleep friends over. "The fact is, though, that neither of us are capable of speaking. Much as you'd like, you'll most likely collapse right here if you kept this up. And much as I'd like, I am quite busy today."


He waved a hoof at me dismissively, turning his attention back to his paperwork. "Go on then. I'll schedule some free time tomorrow. Why don't you get some rest first in the guest rooms? If what I've been told is true, you deserve it." He turned to the remaining praetorian. "Get him out of here, please. I've had enough distractions for now."


"You got it sir," the guard rasped.


I wanted to protest, just like whenever I had a plan and it was going to hell because of the will of someone in greater authority than I was. This time, however, I was too tired to give much of a struggle as the guard nudged us out towards the door. Myst and Skyfire, both barely dragging themselves across the floor, swayed lazily behind me. When we were outside I took one glance over at the Legate, calmly compiling his papers. With an exhausted sigh, I turned and followed the guard over to the rooms.


"Praetorian," he suddenly called out from behind me, forcing me to turn around and look at him. He sat on his chair, hooves tapped together on the table as he looked at me with a small, welcoming smile. He opened his mouth and after a moment's hesitation said, "Welcome to the Forum, home of the gods." His smile grew wider as he said calmly, "I'm sure you've already met them."

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

I really hated my body then. Not only did it interfere with my plans to talk to Vesperius, but it also rendered my mind incapable of any thoughts that had any importance. Sure I can talk and think of it now, but I'd have liked to think about that 'gods' thing Vesperius spoke of. I didn't meet the gods! When could I possibly have experienced the grace of the gods or the Goddesses that I never even had much faith in to begin with? If my life was any indication, never.


So, with my body dragging the rest of me down, it's pretty reasonable that the only solid thoughts that came to my head as I lazily and indifferently followed the guard down the halls and down stairs that I more than once nearly tripped on were thoughts of rest. Statues and busts and banners that I would have been more than happy to stare at were nothing but blurs to my eyes; music and singing that emanated from rooms where robed zebra mares interacted in were nothing more than echoes to my tired ears. Praetorians we passed by were nothing but motionless husks, but to them we must have seemed like hypnotized drunkards, what with the way we fumbled along.


Through gods knows how many spiral staircases and turns and halls, we finally came to it. A fairly narrow carpeted hall, on the side of which was a wide arched doorway with no door. Within was a large room with a circular table in the middle and semicircular couches around that, with a few steps of stairs leading to a higher ground at the end of which was an open balcony. From the light coming from outside, it was late afternoon. Two simple doors stood on each side of the main room, each with cupboards and lamps next to them. An open cabinet next to the balcony entrance held a great many bottles of wine and bowls of grapes, with the occasional platter of what seemed to be cheese and bread.


Vesperius was right; this place wasn't lavish in any way, but it looked homely and functional.


I blinked slowly as I took the room in, then I heard a click from one of the doors. The guard had unlocked it, allowing us entrance. I trotted over to it as my friends followed closely behind and we caught sight of Doomtune, who'd curled up on the couch and lay motionless. Curled up on him was a sleeping Doodle.


I entered the room alone as my friends wordlessly went for the others that had been unlocked, and my eyes fixated on one piece of furniture above every other detail: a bed. A perfectly good, red-sheeted, white-pillowed, large bed for two, with the most temptingly smooth and inviting surface. With my legs feeling like they'd been hammered to jelly and with each breath becoming harder, I clambered onto it and fell into sleep immediately.


No thoughts or concerns... just... rest.

* * * Magnus et Potens Roamanus * * *

It was nice to sleep without dreams. Strange, because many in history were quoted saying good things about dreams. 'That those who dream with open eyes may act on their visions' for one. They said that dreams were the essence of a person's potential; that consciousness and subconsciousness blended to form a realm where thoughts transcended regular mental capacity, and that because of that, people, within their dreams, were capable of anything. That in dreams, people could work without ever resting.


Well you know what? I think I liked rest better.


I awoke feeling refreshed and energized; feelings... not at all common in the length of my adventure. Most of the time I'd either be in great mental or physical strain, so it was nice to have a reprieve. I'd not noticed the previous night that the room I was in, being closer to the outside than the other rooms, had a balcony. It was still dark outside, though rays of gold lit up the clouds. I checked the time on my Pipbuck.


"Always six AM," I murmured, then rubbed my eyes. At the time, I didn't really care that I'd slept for fourteen hours; I needed the sleep.


A felt a breath on my cheek.


Slowly, very slowly, I turned to see where it came from. I had to rub my eyes again to make sure I wasn't dreaming. "Oh... well, this is... new."


Myst lay next to me, a hoof hugging a pillow close to her head and the other on my chest. She was sprawled all over the parts of the bed that I hadn't occupied, like she'd summoned up just enough energy to follow me and clamber on before collapsing. How had she... no, scratch that, why was she here? I was absolutely an idiot when it came to this kind of stuff, but I was pretty sure that people didn't just casually sleep with other people in beds like this. Unless they were in relationships, of course...


I smiled and stroked her mane gently. Yeah, unless they were in relationships. And I was in one -- me, Goldwreath, was in a relationship with a mare who liked me for who I was. She didn't care what I was like or what I'd done; she cared for me either way. And I cared for her, too. I know I said it before, but up to now the mere thought of that sends a warm wave to my heart.


I planted a kiss on her forehead. "Sleep, Myst. Sleep... while you can."


Now, much as I would have loved to just go back to sleep in the presence of my... marefriend... the fact was that I, for all the distractions I faced, was a pony who set plans for himself. A plan by definition was a 'detailed proposal for achieving a goal', hence, sleeping in a bed when I was energized and fit to act was NOT a plan. Even if said bed had the perfectly beautiful Myst on it. So I got up and took off the uncomfortable chainmail shirt and helmet and all my other combat gear and dressed myself in a simple white tunic striped with purple that was placed in a cabinet in the room -- a cabinet that I'd also missed seeing. I made my way outside, hearing the snores from the couches and from another room with its door open. There Skyfire lay, splayed out and snoring tremendously loud, her pillow soaked in drool.


"And to think I drool like that sometimes," I murmured, then I heard the marching from outside. Leaving them behind, I made my way out into the wider halls and caught sight of an approaching praetorian controbernium in patrol. Leading them was the same gold-masked commander from the day before.


I stepped back and pressed myself against the wall, letting them pass by in front of me. They didn't utter a single greeting or cast a single glance my way. My ears perked up at the sounds of mares laughing and talking through the halls, along with more marching. This early in the morning, the Forum was already alive. Now, while I had little interest in participating in the social interactions of people I didn't even know, I could, at the least, ask them how to get back to the Caesar's chamber to see if Vesperius was up.


But as that turns out, it was tad bit more complicated than that. No, I could understand them fine and they could understand me fine, but the problem was that the mare servants wouldn't stop giggling and looking me over. Sure they got out words and phrases through their feminine antics, but that forced me to approach eight different servants -- all of whom were in groups of two or three, and all of whom looked like they were so interested in me. It started getting annoying, really. What, were they... checking out my coat? If so, was crimson a weird or funny color? I just really couldn't tell why they'd be so interested in me.


Eventually I gathered up enough proper information to mount a real effort, and I finally made my way up the correct staircase, and found myself in a side chamber that led out into the main halls of the Forum. After trotting down a curved hall for a moment I arrived at the main entrance, the heavy bronze doors closed and locked. From there I easily made my way up the stairs and through the lowered semicircular door. As I went, I couldn't help but feel a bit tense at all the praetorians silently watching my every move.


I arrived at the gate to the emperor's chambers and knocked twice. Then I pushed it open, and found it devoid of the person I'd come up to speak to. All I was treated to was a very quiet, very serene chamber lit up with the soft light of early morning.


But there was someone here, though. Aside from the two praetorians from yesterday who stood stoically at each side of the throne, there was, near a small corner table sitting near the great marble seat, a young zebra buck, robed in white and gold and, perusing over some envelopes and scrolls -- the same ones Vesperius had handed to the guard yesterday. I made my way over to him.


"Reasonable response... reasonable response..." He paused for a moment, taking a closer look at the paper. "... the senate won't like that, but alright. Reasonable response... reasonable response..."


I cleared my throat and interrupted politely as I came up behind him, "Um, excuse me... representative?"


He raised his head and quickly turned around, fixing me with a cautious but curious stare. He looked me up and down, then cocked his head sidewards. "Who are you?" he asked slowly. "And... you're a pony..."


"I am the Praetorian," I replied. "And yes, I am a pony. But it doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, the Legion seems to appreciate what I did despite me not being a zebra."


"They appreciate you? What did you do?" he asked. "And... the Praetorian? I didn't know the guard assigned special names to people now. How'd you get into their ranks?"


Clearly he was confused, but his questions were beginning to make me think that those people -- the inhabitants of that Maximilian-class stable somewhere beneath where I stood -- didn't know who I was. I was conflicted on whether to feel disappointed or glad about that -- disappointed because my efforts were unheard of and unappreciated by those who didn't actually need a protector, but glad because that meant that there was at least somewhere in the world where people must have lived regular lives. If they didn't know about me -- or perhaps the senate did, but not the people -- then that meant they weren't muddling up their lives with wasteland realities. It meant that somewhere down there, there was a place where life was... normal. I'd need to see it to really believe it, of course, but the mere thought of normality held me in a trance.


My silence seemed to disturb him. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up, then." Then he tentatively reaching out a hoof to pat me. "I... don't know you or what you did, but I've visited the outside enough to have seen what's beyond those walls. I've seen explosions, bombings, napalm... I know it's a warzone out there. I may not be able to know how it feels like out there, but I know it must be difficult."


"And you're right," Vesperius said as he descended from the ceiling upon a hovering glass platform. I couldn't even see his face, shrouded in dancing rays of pale yellow light, until he'd cleared the final ring-window. The platform landed right in front of the throne, sinking itself into a circular pattern in the marble. He approached us, looking the representative in the eye. "Placidus, the world outside is a warzone. A terrible one, full of agony and despair the likes of which the Senatus et Populusque Roamanus beneath where I stand will never know the feel of."


He stepped right in front of us, looking between our eyes. "Both of you represent two of the sides of the struggle to rebuild Roam -- the Praetorian here manifests the greatness a citizen can achieve when he tries and exerts, and you Placidus represent that for which we fight for: normalcy and the people." Vesperius frowned, casting his gaze down. "But what I am saying is alien to you, isn't it? Normalcy is strong within you; these words come from those who aren't normal."


Placidus looked at him with wide, oblivious eyes. Then they turned apologetic as he frowned. "I'm... sorry to say that I don't understand. I have no experience with this kind of thing. I deal with words and papers, not... emotions."


Vesperius nodded his head, clicking his tongue. "Then consider yourself lucky your life isn't as complicated as ours. Don't even try to understand unless you plan to commit yourself to it. This isn't your nice clean life down there, alright? Not the life I used to know. This is Roam, the city of war. There's no peace to be found here. Not lasting peace, anyway." He sighed deeply and looked at the papers in the representative's hooves. "In any case, I didn't come down from my prayer session to discuss our troubles. I came here to see what you thought of my responses to the political and resource problems documents the senate has sent me."


Placidus looked through the files hurriedly. "Um, yes! Right, so I think that most of the senators would be fine with allocating more electrical energy to the mining equipment to supplement your request for additional metal, however..." He flipped through some papers and pointed on a paragraph on one of them. "... I don't think they'd like your response to Thanus' family about not allowing their next son to command over Equestrius. That will have some serious ramifications, I believe."


"It stays as is," Vesperius said sternly. "I've made my choice, Placidus. I made a mistake to put that zebra in charge of Equestrius, and he's done some truly terrible things that ultimately resulted in his death. I won't have it happen again; that sibling of his has likely been exposed to the same foul pride that resulted in the disaster Thanus caused."


Placidus swallowed, nodding his head. "A-alright. I'll... make sure they get the message."


Vesperius nodded. "Yes, make sure of that." He looked at me, then back at the uncertain-looking Placidus. "Now, off with you," he shooed, waving the buck away. "Have some food or something before you return to those people. I remember how long that trip up took; you must be hungry." He turned and stepped onto the glass platform, saying as he looked me in the eyes, "I'll be busy tending to my guests, so don't come back asking for my confirmation on those matters, because they're already confirmed. We're done."


I took 'tending to my guests' as my cue to get onto the platform with him. As soon as I'd stepped on, the glass immediately started ascending. I took a quick glance over at Placidus, and found him staring at us. There was a look in his eyes, a... pity, I think. A pity and a concern. But as we rose higher and higher, the sight below become all the more hazed with the reflections of wan golden light. Soon we neared the red ceiling, and the platform stopped.


We stood in a wide circular chamber, though significantly smaller in diameter than the chamber below. The floor was a clear glass, but significantly thicker than the circular elevator was. The ceiling was domed and painted red, with a gold-rimmed oculus in the middle. The slanting walls were windowed but each was blocked by bronze shutters, allowing me not the slightest view of the outside. A peaceful music played in the air; it was a softly-pulled lyre. In the middle was a simple bed -- not even a genuine bed, but rather a platform meant for people to lie down on when they were being used as models for paintings. Beside that was simple wooden table upon which were several bottles of wine, a bowl of grapes, and a platter of sliced bread and cheese.


But none of that had anything on the statues that ringed the area. There was a zebra, proud upon a throne of carved iron, holding in his hooves a thunderbolt of forked lightning. In another, a zebra with powerful waves of the sea dancing behind his figure. And yet another, looking up at the sky with disdain as miniature figures of people of all species wailed and cried at his feet. Many other statues depicting both might and beauty brought an aura of power and awe to the chamber.


Vesperius got off the platform and approached the table before pouring some wine into some glasses. "Welcome to the emperor's personal gallery of the gods," he said plainly. Then he smirked, "Awe-inspiring as it is, it's also the only real flaw in Roaman engineering. Before the dawn of modern technology, the ancient zebras had to use either ladders or winged creatures to get up here. The floor wasn't this pristine glass either, but rather a drab brick. Horrible, really. Strange that the only flaw in our empire's architectural ingenuity was in its very heart..." He put on a wan smile as he turned around and offered me a goblet full of wine. "Care for a drink?"


By then I had pried my attention away from the statues and looked at him. "Thanks... but I don't drink."


He shrugged. "If you say so. I'll have you know, though, that true Roamans drink wine. Wine at breakfast, wine at lunch, wine at dinner. Even the foals drank it. Just seems a little improper to be at the very center of Roam and not do as the Roamans do, don't you think?" His indifferent face turned to a cocky smirk.


I grimaced and took the wine. "You sure do know how to persuade a pony to go against his vices," I said with a twinge of contempt. I looked into the violet liquid as he trotted over before the statue of Jupiter and knelt down before it. I remembered what he'd said the night before. "What did you mean last night? With that 'I'm sure you've met the gods' statement?"


He let out a deep breath, not turning to face me. "You've met them," he answered, getting up and raising his goblet of wine before Jupiter's statue. Then he put a hoof to his chest and downed it.


"I don't think I have," I replied sourly. "In the course of my life, I wouldn't exactly say I've ever experienced their grace or blessings, so... yeah, I'm not one for faith for any deity. All I've done and accomplished I managed of my own effort."


"Like the training you went through in your Stable," he said, trotting over to the statue of Neptune. "But even then you've had the gods' help, and even now. Mars imbued within you the fighting spirit; Pluto the conscience to know what savages deserve his wrath; Venus inflames the love brewing between you and that mare; Jupiter gave you your will for justice."


"Lies," I snapped. "The only people that have ever blessed me are the friends who go through hell with me and the parents who brought me into the world, and no one else. Not your gods. I've made my own life and reacted as best as I could to what befell me, understand?" I shot him a sharp glare as he performed the same ritual for the Neptune statue. After that he trotted to the next: the statue of Minerva.


"Believe what you will," he replied plainly. "Doubt them if you want; they'll be wise enough to be patient with you. I speak to them, so I know they will." Then he let out a mirthless little laugh. "And yet, despite being their Pontifex Maximus, they speak with you more." He laughed again. "I suppose that just serves to drive their plans forward."


I let out a breath of irritation. "For letting me believe in what I will, I'll you believe in your own beliefs, then." I relaxed a little as he repeated the ritual for the next two statues. "You have... a very deep belief in the gods. Why?"


He didn't respond at first, but then actually turned around to face me. "Because they are the enemy of my enemy. And my enemy is the degradation of the minds and bodies of Roamans. No matter who sides with me, or no matter who or what goes against my goal, I can take comfort in the fact that the gods will not abandon those with faith." Then he smiled and looked to the side. "Besides, it's in my name. Vesperius. Vesper: evening prayer. I suppose not only ponies have names that somehow coincide with who they are." He thought for a moment. "Speaking of names... what is your name? Of the many things I've discerned from radio chatter and my visions... that's the one detail I have not learned."


"A name for a name, then," I replied. "My name is Goldwreath."


He didn't respond, but his eyes trailed slowly to the golden wreaths and triple numeral on my flanks. "That's quite the name..." he said softly. Then he looked me in the eyes. "You are very fortunate."


"Why?" I asked. "Why would I be fortunate?"


He smiled knowingly and turned around, then trotted a little and pressed a button on the rim of the windows. At once the shutters lifted, allowing the temporarily-blinding light of the sun through and filling the the chamber with golden light. "Apollo's time to run the day again," he murmured. Then he turned to face me, appearing to me as nothing more than a silhouette. "Why are you fortunate?" he asked, then grabbed me and pulled me closer to the window, close enough to him that I could see his face. I nearly spilled the wine.


He gestured his hoof in an arc down at the ruined city that lay about us. "You are fortunate because your life -- rather, you -- will bring us change; change the gods promised. And for that you are fortunate because all the glory of that change will come to you. Many will try to stop you; many fear change and will fight it with every fibre of their being. But sometimes change is what they meed most. Sometimes change is what sets them free."


I spent a moment staring down at the city, and at the camp of now-red tents surrounding the Forum. In the distance I saw the very small form of Bucephalus, and upon it a purple smudge: Flavianicus. If I remembered right, he said he'd go back to the Colosseum to make sure Seashore'd left."Why are you saying all this? Telling me that I'm special? I don't feel special; rather, I feel... inadequate."


"Because I have faith," he replied, smiling. "I have faith that in the course of our time, good people can spring forth. That against all the forces of evil in the universe... there's always an equalizing agent. There's always hope."


"Hope for a better tomorrow," I replied, before taking a drink. Heh, it was actually pretty good. I took another gulp before lowering the cup.


"Yes, hope... that's something I'd toast to," he said, looking at me and holding out his goblet. I looked at him and the wine for a moment. Then I smiled and touched my cup to his and raised it in the air.


"This will be the beginning of something very drastic," he said in a foreboding tone. "A great many struggles await us. Moments of... darkness and despair... agony and hate..." He looked on into the horizon for a moment as if it mesmerized him. "Apollo... foresees... the... great culmination of many things, bad and good, and it is... breathtaking..." He blinked and let out a shaky breath, seeming disturbed as he cast his gaze down. "And already the direness of the aforementioned creeps on my soul..."


"Dire or not, I know what I'm fighting for," I said, getting a curious look from him. I looked off into the sunrise in the east, the rays lighting up the brown mountainside. Suddenly the aircraft took off from their landing pads on the slopes of our mountain, encircling the Forum and casting their shadows into the chamber. "I'm going to fight for the glory of Roam."









Footnote: Level Up
New perk gained: Words Backed by Action -- You get the point across with more than just words, don't you? With every successful speech attempt, there is a 10% chance that all entities in the area will avoid attacking you unless directly provoked.


Note:
Unknown source -- 'Undetermined_Sender' says: THEN YOU FIGHT FOR WHAT WILL DESTROY YOU