V
Quantum of Schoolhouse
- - -
A chain of five white dots moved across a solid black backdrop. The sixth hovered, in the air, and then grew larger with a glossy surface, until it took on an entirely reflective sheen.
Roscherk Krovyu wandered into view from the right side of the round mirror. At first, the motion was calm and collected. His black suit jacket trimmed perfectly to his form, and the black tie around his neck was immaculate.
Without turning his head, his eye caught the mirror. And for him, that was enough. In a single smooth motion, as fast as lightning, he swiveled on his rear left hoof and lashed out. A lacquered black dress shoe flew off his hoof. Some glass vial on the shelf above the mirror shattered. Thick red liquid spilled over the mirror, dribbling like blood over the reflection of the well dressed stallion. Somewhere outside the Golden Oaks library, a brief guitar riff played. It was followed by the sound of a rising band, led by trumpets.
Though the stallion failed to notice, a line of bold black text appeared in midair before him.
Loyal Liar Presents
When the tremble of strings sounded again, Roscherk Krovyu released his voice.
"A memory brought me from Stalliongrad
In need of my rare and hard-earned skills
A "Price of Loyalty" Tale
But now that I'm here in Ponyville
I'm missing the life that I had.
Edited by SatoshiKyu, Roflknief, DarkPhoenix, and Ruirik
With Translations by Keyesty
I've fought soldiers, monsters. I lived for the moment.
But oh, it just couldn't last.
Starring Roscherk Krovyu
In a moment's weakness
I lost all control. Now I'm trapped,
Unmaking my past.
Also Starring:
Sweetie Belle, Applebloom, Scootaloo
Stoikaja
For now I endure in Ponyville,
I'm trying to change who I've become.
With Princess Celestia as 'M'
and Rarity as 'Q'
But someday they'll need the soldier again.
He'll come from Stalliongrad with Love"
"From Stalliongrad With Love"
When the stylized text card finally faded, and Red Ink was once more the focus of attention, he wandered over to the window of the guest bathroom, pushed it open, and leaned out. Below, a rather large band dressed in snappy red vests was staring up. They gave him a startling applause.
"Thank you," he called down. "I am app– I mean, I appreciate accompaniment."
"That's what we do," the conductor shouted back. "I enjoyed the number."
Ink gave a small smile. "It just came to me. I was enjoy the guitar especially."
"Oh, why thank you." The mare holding the shiningly polished acoustic stood up, and Ink's smile became much more genuine. She was a rather plain yellow coated mare, with a cute short mane and a slender physique. "You have an excellent tenor."
"I am thanking you. Although I can go deeper. In fact," he continued, wiggling his eyebrows ever so slightly, "if you are caring to join me for drinks tonight, I will show just how much deeper I can go."
She smiled, blushed, and looked away. He earned a few disapproving glares from the others in the band, but he never got to hear her response; a sharp tug on his tail pulled him away from the window. Only a moment later, an aura of rose magic shut the window and the blinds.
"Sparkle–"
"Twilight," the unicorn corrected. "And what do you think you're doing?"
Ink considered explaining his advances, but ultimately decided against it. "I am doing– sorry." He grimaced. "I do my best to not look like an idiot in this jacket." He gestured to the black fabric hanging from his neck. "What is the point?"
"The point," Twilight explained, "is that you make a good impression on your pupils. And that means not being late on the first day of class."
"Fine, fine." Ink shrugged in the garment. "I leave, go get my jacket from Rarity, and head to class. Good?"
"Close enough," Twilight replied with a slight smile. "I'm impressed with how much progress you've made in just two days. Though I do have to ask: how do you sing so well in Equiish when you can hardly speak?"
"I... was think it natural. Being much the same as how, when one pony is starting to sing, everypony else is knowing lyrics, even if song is being made up off top of head. Some magic all ponies are sharing, perhaps?"
"Hmm..." Twilight scratched her chin. "That's an interesting theory, Mr. Ink. Why don't you sing something in Stalliongradi, and I'll try–"
Ink shook his head. "Everypony is knowing it has to be spontaneous, yes?" Twilight chuckled. "What?"
"Just that you know a word like 'spontaneous', but you can't conjugate 'know'." Twilight chuckled as she stepped out of his way. "Have a good first day at school, Mr. Ink."
"I am looking forward to it," he responded, tightening his tie and adjusting his cuffs as he made his way out the door.
- - -
September 1st, 1452 A.S.
Carousel Boutique
0737 Hours
When the bell above the door rang, Rarity looked up from her work. "Oh, Mr. Ink! Please, come in! I'll be with you in just a moment."
"Mr. Ink?" The second voice met Ink's eardrums the way a blender might greet a vat of gelatin. After the dull humming that he recognized as shell shock faded, he turned to the unicorn filly in front of his hooves. The light reflecting off her polished smile was just shy of blinding, and he squinted as he beheld the way she looked up at him with awe and wonder. "How come you're here? Don't we have class in a half an hour?"
"Yes we do, uh..."
"Sweetie Belle," the filly supplied.
Ink nodded. "Yes, Sweetie. But first, I need my jacket."
Rarity looked up from her work at the pointed comment and smiled. "Oh, that's what's so important? I thought you might need me to refit that jacket. It's a good deal too tall for you."
Ink's eye twitched. "Twilight said it was her brother's."
Rarity's mouth made an 'O' shape, but it was Sweetie Belle who put words to the uncomfortable thought. "Oh, well that makes sense. Captain Armor is a lot taller than you, Mr. Ink."
Gritting his teeth, the stallion ignored the comment and walked across the room, to where Rarity had laid his most precious garment across the back of a model dummy.
"Here we are, Mr. Ink," she began. "I patched up the holes and the burns in the fabric, but I'm afraid I haven't yet had the time to actually repair the stitching near the wing slits, or the fraying under the collar. Also, I considered adding some quilting and a Trottingham fold to those false pockets you have sewn into the inside."
"False pockets?" Ink cocked his head. "They are being–" He interrupted his own sentence by slapping himself across the face. "They are called sheathes, Rarity."
"I see Twilight's lessons are bearing fruit."
"Убейте меня." Ink ran his hooves along the sleeves of the garment, and stopped at the cuffs. "I told you I did not want gems."
"Oh, I know. I had originally intended to do over the entire breast in black opals, but I wouldn't go against your wishes. These are like the improvements to the, uh, sheathes as you say. They'll help to hold the garment together better without changing much of its appearance. These are just cufflinks. I imagined you might like them." Her magic gave one a slight twist, revealing a little crooked pin that glowed with the aura of her magic. "They open ninety percent of Equestria's locks."
Ink's jaw slowly fell open. "What?"
"I'm teasing, Mr. Ink. Though picking a stubborn lock with a cufflink is sometimes a valuable skill for a gentlecolt."
"I would sooner die than be called a gentlecolt. I would wind up like brother."
"The one who bought you this jacket? I dare say–"
"No, no." Ink chuckled a little as he shook his head. "Polnoch... that is something like 'middle of the night' in Equiish - he was younger brother. And he never had anything stuck up his–"
"Roscherk Krovyu!" Rarity interrupted, gesturing to Sweetie Belle.
Ink coughed awkwardly into his hoof. "...accounting tables," he concluded. "I meant older brother... nevermind."
Rarity laughed a little at the stallion's awkwardness, though her smile was genuine, appreciating the effort he was putting into controlling himself. "Well, I had to take your 'sheathes' out, along with some of the lining. I also noticed it isn't properly fitted for you. If you need it now, go ahead and take it; it looks fine on the outside at least. However, I'll need you to bring it back so I can finish my work. And then, perhaps, we can talk about doing something with a slightly nicer fabric for you."
He rolled his eyes, but nodded nevertheless. "Fine. I am bringing... no, not right. I brang?"
"Will bring?" Sweetie Belle suggested helpfully.
"Ah, yes. I will bring it back tonight."
"Excellent," Rarity observed, as Ink and his student progressed toward the door. "Oh, and make sure you bring it back in pristine condition, darling."
- - -
September 1st, 1452 A.S.
Ponyville Schoolhouse
0759 Hours
Sweetie Belle appreciated that Mr. Ink had held the door open for her. That meant he was a 'gentlecolt', as Rarity would put it, which was good. She'd been worried when he'd yelled at her and the other crusaders in the market, but he was probably just having a bad day. After all, Rarity yelled at Sweetie when she was having a bad day, or when she'd taken too much of the medicine she kept in the high cabinet over the sink, and that didn't make her any less of a lady.
Smiling, Sweetie Belle made her way into the nearly-packed classroom and moved to take her seat. She wasn't quite there, though, when a familiar and unwelcome voice called out.
"Oh, look! The blank flank has to get the teacher to walk her to class. Did you get lost, Sweetie Belle?"
She recognized Diamond Tiara's voice - the 'leader' of the two bullies was almost always the one to sling the first insult. Sweetie practiced what Rarity had taught her, smiling and breathing gently through her nose without saying anything. That's what a responsible adult would do, as Rarity put it.
As Sweetie Belle had walked back to her seat, Mr. Ink had made his way into the room. However, rather than stand behind his own desk, he was looming over Diamond Tiara's, glaring daggers at the filly.
"Uh, Mr. Ink, is something wrong?"
"Respect," Ink replied, before stepping away from her desk to the front of the room. Sweetie didn't have the eye of her sister for fashion, but she could see something was wrong in the way the stallion's coat shifted on his back. He made his way to the chalkboard at the front of the room and wrapped the tip of his wings around a stick of chalk.
Mr. Ink faced the class as his wing moved with a mind of its own, darting around to the chalkboard and beginning to write in funny-looking Equiish. "My name is Red Ink. You may call me Mr. Ink, or Sir." His wing stopped its work for a moment on a long list near the edge of the board to scrawl out six enormous letters.
Яed Inк
"Uh, Mister Ink?"
Ink turned to the filly who had addressed him. "Yes, Apple..."
"It's Applebloom," Sweetie's friend called out. "And yer 'arr' is backwards."
Ink glanced at the way he'd written his name, and then shrugged. "It looks better with a 'Ya'. Thank you, Applebloom." Having concluded his thought, he turned sideways, so that he could look at the class while his wing scratched a single word in strange and foreign letters.
Уважение
"...find out what it means to me," the teacher mumbled, in the style of superstar pop sensation Sapphire Shores, from the hit album Sensaaational!, available at a record store near you. Remember, colts and fillies, record piracy is a crime.
By the time Sweetie Belle's attention had returned from the memory of those obnoxious commercials that always seemed to be on the radio station Rarity liked, Mr. Ink had moved on. "Stand up," he ordered, glaring in Diamond Tiara's direction. She rose tentatively to her hooves as the class watched. Ink rubbed his free wing over his face in an expression of what Sweetie would define as a mixture of lassitude and exasperation, had she the grasp of Equiish to properly use such polysyllabic terms. Instead, her young mind had to settle on the thought that he seemed unhappy as he continued to speak. "No. All of you, be standing."
The class rose as he turned, and he gave them a 'smile'. Something about the expression left the little unicorn unsettled, though if anypony had asked, she wouldn't have been able to explain it. For just a moment, she was tempted to call for an adult... but then, he was an adult, wasn't he? And that meant he was trustworthy, right?
After all, nopony would actually let a dangerous pony become a teacher.
Right?
Ink tapped the blackboard with his wing. "Can anypony tell me what this says?" The teacher seemed surprised when Twist raised her hoof. Glancing her direction, he raised a brow. "Yes?"
"Uh, I guethth it thayth rethpect."
His eyes slid to Sweetie in the next seat over, though his head didn't move. "What?"
"She says 'it says respect,'" Sweetie explained on behalf of the linguistically challenged filly. It didn't seem like it really needed to be explained, but then again, Mr. Ink's accent was even funnier than Big Macintosh's, those few times when he actually chose to speak.
"Ah. Smart filly." Mr. Ink returned his attention to Twist. "What's your name?"
"Twitht."
He cocked his head. "I don't know that word. What does 'twitht' mean?"
The class burst into uproarious laughter, as Twist hid her head beneath her hooves. Sweetie felt bad for Twist, but evidently her sympathy wasn't as strong as the new teacher's. The class' laughter cut off abruptly when Mr. Ink slammed a hoof on the surface of his desk. When he removed the offending foreleg, his shoe remained lodged in the wood, standing bolt upright.
"Apology, Twist," the teacher muttered. "I had no want to embarrass you." Stumbling past his awkward word choice, Ink turned to address the rest of the class. "Twist is right. This word is Uvazheniye. Say it with me. Ooh-vah-zen-ee-yay."
The class tried as best they could, though their efforts momentarily put a sort of green color on Mr. Ink's face. Suspecting they'd said it wrong, Sweetie chimed in. "I think we should try again. On the count of three? One... two..."
"No!" Mr. Ink shouted, having finally returned to his usual red self. He braced a hoof on his desk for two desperate gasps of air. After a moment of recovery, he leveled his gaze across the class. "It does mean respect, in my tongue. Stol'nogradskiy Pay attention to this: it is not 'Stalliongrad.' In this class, we say Stol’nograd, because we are not uneducated swine. The city name is not a stupid joke. Understand?"
Tragically, the back of Ink’s mind reminded him that he was, in fact, butchering Stalliongradi grammar to make the statement work. But the less sophisticated edge of Equiish forced a compromise, and at least he’d gotten rid of the damned pun.
The class nodded slowly, though Sweetie Belle was sure their responses were more out of intimidation than actual comprehension. She didn't see a stupid joke in 'Stalliongrad' - it wasn't any different than Manehattan or Canterlot, really. Just a name. She didn't give the complaint much further thought, as her eyes kept drifting to the solid steel shoe jutting up out of the splintered wood of the teacher's desk. It seemed funny that he'd been able to do that. Shoes weren't supposed to stand up on their ends.
Mr. Ink snapped his wing, which caught everypony's attention just as much from how startling the action was as the actual noise. Sweetie was sure Scootaloo's wings didn't bend that way. She lost track of yet another thought when the teacher spoke up again. "Now, to point I was intent on making in the first place. In class, we will be practicing uvazheniye. Respect, as you would say it. I would like very much that we get along before your teacher comes back. However, if you are not respectful to each other, it is very likely that we will not get along." And then he gave that smile again, and let his gaze drift over the entire class. "Nopony would like it if I did not get along with them, I think. Do we have understanding?"
The class generally nodded with a mixture of fear and outright confusion. Ink seemed satisfied by the reaction, as he pulled out Cheerilee's chair and flopped back into it so that his hind hooves were resting on the desk next to the standing shape of his shoe. "Now, I have introduced me. We are getting started..."
A hoof rose into the air. Mr. Ink turned to Twist. He seemed unhappy to have been interrupted by the raised hoof. "Yes?"
"Thouldn't we introduthe ourthelveth?"
"I don't care," Ink told the class. To his credit, he did eventually realize he'd said something wrong. "I will learn names better during the course than from listing off like a roster. Besides, Ponyville has, what, a hundred foals? Two hundred? If you do not know one another, introductions are not changing things. We will start learning now instead. So..." He glanced down at a manila folder lying open on the desk, and the shoe pinning it to the desk. Judging from the slight shock in his eyes, Sweetie concluded he hadn't actually intended to thrust his shoe through an inch and a half of wood, as well as the middle of his document.
"Uh, our first topic is be..." His voice trailed off, though the class could still hear him clearly. "No, that's not right. Just is? Yes." Volume returned. "Our first topic is reading. Get book from there, in corner. And, uh... Applebloom, bring me one." As the class started to mass around the bookshelf in the corner, he continued to speak. "Our book is being 'Crime and Punishment' by... wait, what?"
"Is something wrong, Mr. Ink?" Sweetie Belle asked.
He shook his head with a look of trepidation, or perhaps regret.. "Nothing wrong at all. I have met the author of this. Fyodor Dostudyevsky." There passed a brief wistfulness through Mr. Ink's eyes, and then he shook his head. "Miss Cheerilee has been nice to me, choosing a Stol'nogradskiy novel."
An orange pegasus in the back of the class looked up from her book. "Ooh! Are you from Stalliongrad, Mr. Ink?"
Sweetie Belle could have sworn she smelled smoke as Ink dedicated his attention toward Scootaloo. "Little one, you remind me of the way I like my milkshakes. Was that not clear? Yes, I am from Stol'nograd. So was Mr. Dostudyevsky." Mr. Ink glanced down at the folder on the desk in front of him briefly. "Evidently, we are to discuss him before we start reading. So let us. Dostudyevsky was a..." Mr. Ink hesitated, and Sweetie watched his mouth test words without lending them voice. He finally settled on "...rebel. He was an earth pony who wrote literature about equality between the types of ponies. This got him in a lot of trouble with the Baron of Stol'nograd..."
- - -
April 22nd, 1442 A.S.
Petrashevsky Building, Stalliongrad
0424 Hours
"You're sure this is a good idea, big brother? The Commandant told us to wait for backup, and–"
"Stop being such a pussy, Polnoch. It's not like we're raiding armed dissidents or deserters or something actually dangerous. They're poets, for Celestia's sake. Earth pony poets. Predvidenie is probably scarier than any of them."
"Roscherk, one of these days you're going to get us all killed."
The older of the two pegasi slapped his younger brother upside the head with his wing playfully. "Come on, Polnoch. Enough with the doom and gloom. We do this on our own, we'll be up for promotion. You'll finally make lieutenant, and you'll be swimming in mares the way I am. How 'bout it, huh?" Roscherk tapped the silver bands on the shoulders of his fitted black shirt, and then adjusted the cap of his uniform.
"I don't know, Roscherk... I mean, you're right. They aren't dissidents or deserters. What have they actually done wrong?" The faded purple pegasus glanced at the bronze bars on his own shoulders with a bit less pride. "They just wrote some books, right?"
"They broke the law, Polnoch. And either we take them down, or somepony else does. I'm not going to kill anypony; just scare them shitless so they obey. Then they get hauled off to the dragon border to build Frostbite's wall for a few years, learn their lesson, and everything's fine."
"Yeah, but what's really wrong with writing a book?"
Ink shrugged. "Predvidenie's the one who'd answer that for you. You tell him, and he'll tell Frostbite. But for right now, this..." Ink glanced at a card he'd tucked into the breast pocket of his uniform. "...this 'Dostudyevsky' is getting arrested no matter what. So are we going to do this?"
Polnoch sighed, staring at the tacky carpet. "Yeah, I guess."
Ink wrapped a wing around his brother's shoulders. "Look, Polnoch, relax. I get where you're coming from, okay? But right now, we can't worry about it. Now, you go ahead and get the door; I'll do the talking. Okay?"
Polnoch nodded. "Fine, Roscherk. I've got your back." Then the younger stallion reared up and bucked the door off its hinges in a shower of splinters and sparks.
"Police!" Roscherk shouted. "Everypony down!"
The room erupted into a blinding flurry of motion. A table toppled on its side. A stack of pages flew into the air. Ponies ran. One came charging toward the door, hoping to make it past Roscherk to freedom.
A padded wing crest absorbed the collision, as Roscherk clotheslined the stallion, flipping him back over onto his back. Before the unfortunate pony could even catch his breath, the black-clad pegasus finished his work with a dual-hooved stomp to the ribs. From the crack and the hoarse scream that followed, at least three had shattered.
"Anypony else?" Roscherk walked forward, leaving the unfortunate stallion to writhe in agony. "I honestly cannot stop you from trying, after all."
The papers finished their fall from the air, and a stillness filled the chamber. An icy draft ruffled Roscherk's feathers, and he glanced to the corner of the room, where an earth pony mare was halfway out a window.
"We're on the seventh story. Unless you're planning on growing wings on the way down, I'd shut the window." He smiled when she climbed inside, and then turned to the mass of ponies at the other side of the room, huddled beside a bookshelf. "Which one of you is..." His wing fetched his little note card. "Fyodor Dostudyevsky?"
Out of the mass came a scraggly looking white stallion with a white beard that had been grown out to compensate for his balding mane. His eyes were lined with wrinkles of anger. "What do you think you're doing, colt?"
"Colt?" Roscherk chuckled, adjusting his hat. "I am Lieutenant Roscherk Krovyu of the Secret Police."
"I know who you are." Dostudyevsky's eyes darted to Polnoch. "Both of you. The alicorn's sons, right? Though in those uniforms, somepony might mistake you for Frostbite's children."
"Who we are isn't important," Polnoch countered, stepping past the stallion in the entryway of the apartment, who still lay clutching his broken ribs. "Fyodor Dostudyevsky, you are under arrest for distribution of seditious writings, and for rebellious activities in service to the dragons."
"Dragons?" The author shook his head from side to side with almost pitying disappointment. "The same ghost story the baron has been telling for a decade, and yet we haven't seen a scale."
"Not my issue," Roscherk interrupted, grabbing the manacles from his belt and dropping them to the cheaply carpeted floor. "Judging by your writing, I'd say you know the laws just fine."
"So you've read my work?" Dostudyevsky's glare grew tighter. "Then let me ask you: what gives you the right?"
"Right? What difference does it make?" Polnoch asked.
Roscherk, on the other hand, extended a wing to grab Dostudyevsky's attention. "You want to know what gives me the right? The fact that I can do it, and you can't stop me."
Dostudyevsky opened his mouth to reply, but Roscherk's steel-shod hoof cut off the speech. Crumpling and gasping for breath, Dostudyevsky's eyes managed to stay open only long enough for Roscherk to give him a sarcastic smile as the chill of steel wrapped around his forelegs.
- - -
September 1st, 1452 A.S.
Ponyville Schoolhouse
0814 Hours
"Uh, Mr. Ink?"
Red Ink shook his head, ridding himself of the memory. "What?"
Sweetie Belle was talking to him from the corner of the room. "You were talking about Mr. Dostudyevsky, and then you just sorta stared out the window and went quiet, and..."
"Apologies." Ink nickered as he shook his head again. "Remembering home. I was talking about Dostudyevsky?"
"Yeah. You said he got taken away to a work camp by... and then you just sorta stopped talking. What's a work camp, anyway? Is it like summer camp?" The palomino colt in the corner smiled despite his proverbial massacre of the word.
"A work camp is like a dungeon. Prison. Jail. Only, not as nice. In Stol'nograd, ponies were sent east and forced to build the wall. Many froze to death."
"The wall?" Appleboom asked.
"There's a huge stone wall on the border with the land of the dragons. Baron Frostbite built it, because he apparently forgot that most dragons can fly, and was too busy suck–" Ink went so far as to slap himself across the face to cut off the sentence before it went too far.
"Sucking what?" Diamond Tiara's ugly gray lackey called out.
"Lollypopth?"
Ink nodded, struggling not to laugh. "Actually, that's a great way to put it, Twist. Baron Frostbite was always after my older brother's lollipop."
"Oh! Ith your brother a candy maker too? I know everypony ith alwayth trying to get my lolllypopth!" Twist exclaimed.
Ink took a brief moment to nearly pass out from laughter, before looking up at a class of entirely unbemused students. "I..." Another few chuckles escaped his control. "I'm sorry. That's some, uh, grown-up humor. Now, why don't we actually start talking about the book?"
- - -
September 1st, 1452 A.S.
Ponyville Schoolhouse
0914 Hours
"Alright, class. Putting your books aside for now. And, since you are all so interested, we will do our history lesson next."
"But Miss Cheerilee said we were gonna learn about the history of Prance!" somepony shouted.
Ever the student of 'history', their teacher summarized the topic quite effectively. "Once upon a time, Prance had many good knights. They had wars with Saddle Arabia and the camels of the Marehara, and they wore stupid wigs. Then they lost three wars with Trottingham. The domain has not mattered since. The end."
"But what about–"
"No," Ink insisted. "I am quite sure that is all that has happened in Prance, ever. Just smug ponies wearing stupid scarves and ugly glasses, as far as eyes can see."
"Ain't that a little, uh, racist, Mr. Ink?"
The question caught Ink's attention. "No, Applebloom. I didn't say anything about whether those ponies were unicorns or pegasi or earth ponies. Stupidity and bad fashion sense are not races. Now, we should get on with our lesson." Ink looked at the roll of maps hanging above the blackboard, and sorted through them until he found the one he wanted.
"Here we are..."
"Cloudsdale isn't in Stalliongrad!"
Ink winced. "No, Scootaloo, Cloudsdale is not in Stol'nograd. A long time ago, however, it was. Does anypony know when?"
Ink's eyes glanced briefly to the ecstatic waving of Twist's hoof, and he scanned slowly over the class.
"Ooh, Mithter Ink! I know!"
Ink found himself struggling to suppress a powerful and blunt urge. While it might be stretching the definition of 'speech-therapy', his ears would certainly find the action therapeutic. Ultimately, he had to remind himself both that she was just a filly, and that Celestia would quite literally kill him, in order to defeat the sudden magnetic attraction that sought to unite the polar opposites of her jaw and his steel-shod left hoof. Groaning, Ink gave up and acknowledged her, though he couldn't quite stop a small jab. "Thplendid, Twist. Since you're the only one in the class who seems to know anything, why don't you tell us?"
The lanky filly wilted at his comment, and Ink could not bring himself to care. Instead, he crossed his forelegs in a deliberate show of impatience, and coughed gently.
"Oh, um... that wath back when Hearthth Warming Day happened, right?"
Ink elevated his forehooves briefly, giving her a small clap which punctuated an otherwise silent classroom. Though his posture and balance were excellent, the stallion eventually had to put his forehooves back on the ground. "Yes, Twist. Eight thousand years ago, Stol'nograd was under control of three races. Pegasi from Cloudsdale, Earth Pony from Amber Field, and Unicorn from River Rock." Ink realized what information he was actually going over halfway through the thought. "You are already aware of this story, I trust?"
The class nodded.
"Good. Because when you all are my age, you will be tired enough of hearing about Commander Hurricane and Princess Platinum that you'll wake up the day after Hearth's Warming hung over in an alleyway, and you'll still think it was a good day because you didn't have to sing that song."
"Uh, what does 'hung o–"
"The point is," Ink interrupted after realizing what he had just said aloud, with all the subtlety of a bull in a porcelain overused metaphor factory, "that everypony knows the story. So we're going to skip it, and move on." Ink turned back to the sliver of chalkboard, grabbing a piece of chalk in his wing and beginning to write a series of names. "Commander Hurricane's oldest son was a pegasus named Tsyklon."
"Uh, do you mean ‘Cyclone’?" asked Pipsqueak.
"I don’t think so. That is like... dizziness? Uh..." Ink scratched his brow, thinking. Finally, giving up, he drew an enormous spiral on the board. "When clouds go like this in storms, that is his name. I do not know Equiish word for it, but it is not important.” Before the class could object, he continued. “This pony, Tsyklon, did not go with his father when Equestria was founded. He stayed in Stol'nograd."
"That's stupid!" Diamond Tiara announced. "Who'd want to stay in the snow?"
Ink's brow rose as he gave the filly a look of false curiosity. "A good question. Let me ask a similar question. Who would want to live in a backwater dump whose only attraction is that six special madmares happen to have met here?"
A clamor of voices rose up in the room, and Ink proceeded to ignore them all. His focus remained locked solidly on the pink filly who had become the object of his ire. Diamond Tiara opened her mouth to speak, and only then did Ink decided to grace the room with his thoughts.
"Do not answer that. It was hypo... hippo..."
"Hypocritical?" Sweetie Belle suggested.
"Yes, that is it. Hypocritical question." Ink ignored what sounded like snickering as he returned his thoughts to ancient history lessons collecting dust in the little wedge of his brain between 'military tactics' and 'ways I can punch my brother and get away with it'.
"Now," the stallion continued, "Tsyklon had some problems, because as Tiara was correct in observing, Stol'nograd is snowy, and it is hard to grow food. So what did he do?"
Scootaloo raised a hoof, and Ink gave her a nod.
"Uh, did he light himself on fire?"
Applebloom leaned over in her seat to box her friend over the ears.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"Cause yer being thick, Scoot. If ya tried to grow a farm with fire, you'd burn everythin' down!"
"Well, maybe if you didn't put the fire right next to the plants–"
"Girls," Ink cut in. "What are we practicing in this class?"
"Uh... respect?" Scootaloo muttered.
"Yeah, that's it!" Applebloom chimed in.
"Exactly. Respect.
Ink nodded. "Respect, yes. Uvazheniye . That means not cutting off one other's thoughts. Also, Applebloom..." She withdrew under the stallion's gaze. "...that was the worst punch I have ever seen. Form is sloppy. You are more likely to hurt your ankle than the target."
There was a very extended awkward silence in the class.*
Red Ink returned to the chalkboard. "Well, there is a famous book about Tsyklon in Stol'nogradskiy. It has a funny title, and extremely short chapters, but it's actually very long. If I were to summarize, it is just ‘Tsyklon Flies East.’"
Ink's large intestine barely managed to resist collapsing in on itself as he continued his lesson unabated. "He eventually met and made a deal with King Twisted, the ruler of the dragons."
"Twisted?" somepony in the back of the room asked.
Ink nodded, scratching up a few words on the chalkboard. "Stol'nogradskiy is based on the Draconic language, but it is much nicer to listen to, without so many reptile noises. The dragon ruler was called Krenen..."
кренен
"...which means twisted or bent or malformed, because he has a stunted right leg, and he is missing a wing. He walks with a cane. Now, in Stol'nogradskiy, krenen is a very old way to say that word, and as result, his name has been shortened to..."
кренн
"Krenn. Of course, that isn't his real name, but I would not be surprise if Celestia and Luna were the only ones who know it anymore now. Now, we return to our story, yes? Tsyklon flew to Krenn, and asked him to give him heat from beneath the earth, so that the ponies in Stol'nograd could grow crops. Krenn..."
A loud yawn interrupted Ink's lecture. He turned away from the chalkboard to find the class in a general state of disinterest.
He almost lit himself on fire.
"You think Stol'nograd doesn't matter?" Ink asked, in a voice that might have been more pleasant had it not been forced to lose a ton of weight and crawl through the narrowest of spaces in his gritted teeth.
What ensued would go down in history as one of the stupidest decisions ever made.
"Well, not really, no," Diamond Tiara told the teacher. "I mean, like, who cares about a bunch of stupid ice and snow, anyway."
If Red Ink's physical strength had not been evident when he rammed a blunt shoe through the surface of his desk, it was made perfectly clear when he swatted Diamond Tiara's entire desk out from in front of her with a single foreleg. The class panicked at the show, at least at first. Foals rose from their seats, though most were too afraid to speak as they stared at the pile of splinters that had come to rest against the schoolhouse wall.
"Stand, Tiara."
She looked at him, eyes wide and genuinely afraid. Her eggshell coat grew wet at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to contain her tears, hiding behind the little strand of matted off-white mane that hung down over her face. "P-please, Mr. Ink..."
He blinked, and the colors returned. Pink. She was pink. Not that filly. He staggered backwards into the desk of another student, tripped on the leg of a stool, and collapsed.
The foals were staring, confused, as Mr. Ink held a shuddering hoof over his own eyes for far too long. Yet nopony asked if he was okay. In their eyes, spelled out in letters too plain to ignore, he could see why.
Fear.
"Go... go outside, class. Having break. Recess. I need... need advice."
- - -
September 1st, 1452 A.S.
Schoolhouse Road, Ponyville
1101 Hours
"Well, that was close, Doctor" muttered Derpy as she adjusted her mailbag. "I thought we were going to be too late."
"Oh, do relax, Derpy. You've been through this enough times to know things always turn out okay. Why, we practically had all the time in the world. And I..." The brown stallion in the red tie and white dress collar stopped. "Why, my good sir, what seems to be the problem?"
The 'problem' in question was a 'fresh blood' coated stallion with a 'dried blood' mane, sitting just outside the door to the schoolhouse with his chin on his forehooves, staring blankly at the ground. "Nothing," he mumbled, with the thick tones of Stalliongrad filling his word.
The brown stallion responded with a crisp Trottingham accent of his own. "Well, I dare say that if 'nothing' were the problem, then I wouldn't find you out here moping about, would I? Do tell, it's not as if we bite. Or shall I guess? Did you have a bad breakfast?" He waited for a reaction, but got nothing from Ink's face. "Trouble with the misses?" Nothing. "An obnoxious exterminator won't leave your home, and keeps shouting his job through his gasmask in a monotone voice?" Then the stallion gave a false gasp as if coming to a sudden realization and leaned in close. "Did you eat a pear?"
"Doctor," Derpy scolded, grabbing the stallion by the scruff of his mane. "Stop bothering Mr. Ink."
"Oh, you know him, Derpy?"
Ink looked up. "Have we met?" He was sure he would have remembered those eyes... had he punched her too hard?
"No, but you're Dinky's teacher." Derpy extended a hoof. "I'm Derpy. This is the Doctor."
"Do–"
"Don't say it!" the stallion interrupted. After a moment of tense silence, his muscles relaxed, and he exhaled. "Thank you. Just 'Doctor' will do."
"So... it is not 'the Doctor?'"
"Well, that's quite complicated, and I think I'll spare you the explanation. Suffice it to say that both work just fine."
Derpy nodded. "It's really complicated. Anyway, what's wrong, Mr. Ink? Why are you outside when class is going on?" The gray mare gave a wide and genuine smile.
"Well..." Ink sighed. "I lost my temper at one of the students, and–"
Trotter Louis Stallionson would have been proud of the transformation that followed. Derpy's eyes focused to a single point of undiluted rage. "IF YOU HURT DINKY, CELESTIA HELP ME–"
"Derpy, calm down! You're doing it again!"
"I'LL MAIL YOU HOME IN TINY BOXES!" Derpy's wings ignited in flames, yet Ink could not even tear his eyes away from hers, given the sheer might of her Empatha.
Sighing, the Doctor reached... behind his tie?... and pulled out a long slender metal object with a blue tip. Acting quickly, he thrust it against Derpy's flank. After a sort of whirring noise issued from the glowing blue tip, her eyes lost focus and she just sort of fell backwards. "Muffins?"
"Yes, dear, on the way home." He reached out a hoof and pulled the mare back from Ink's face. "Apologies, Mr... Ink, was it? She's quite protective of her daughter, though she's really quite a nice mare."
"What did you do?" Ink asked the earth pony. "What was that thing?"
"Oh, this?" Somehow spinning the little metal tube around his hoof, he smiled. "Well, it's a miniature jet injector–like an injection needle, only without the needle. I had it custom made. It has a mild anesthetic in it right now, and I only gave her a quarter dose. She'll come about... well, right about now."
On cue, Derpy rubbed her eyes. "Oh... well, that was no fun. I'm sorry, Mr. Ink. Dinky is okay, right?"
"Dinky is fine... I think. Which one is she?"
"Little purple unicorn, blonde mane, cutest smile in the entire world..." The Doctor shot Derpy a small grin.
Ink, however, raised a brow, glancing between a pegasus and an earth pony. "Unicorn...?"
"Oh, I'm not the father," the Doctor clarified. "I was still in the Guard proper when she was born."
"Guard proper?"
The Doctor nodded. "Reserves now; actually, you'd be surprised how much of the population of Ponyville is reserve guardsponies. I think Princess Celestia is a little bit protective of her student." He chuckled, and then leaned forward to whisper in Ink's ear. "But I'm sure you already realized that Commandant."
"Wait, you know–"
"Well, I've got an appointment with the mayor, and it wouldn't do to be late." Ink's eyes widened as the Doctor chuckled and stuck his... jet-thingy... back into his tie, where it seemed to completely disappear. "So let me leave you with this, Mr. Ink. If you waste your time trying to go back in time, you'll drive yourself insane. The only thing to do is, well, soldier on."
Ink stared as the earth pony smiled and ran off, muttering something in Prench under his breath as his hooves carried him away. The soldier's mouth hung open until he felt a gentle hoof push it shut.
"He's like that sometimes," Derpy explained. "I don't really understand it either." Then the same hoof on Red Ink's chin pulled his head around to look her in her wild eyes. "Now, I don't know what all that was about, but you seem like a nice enough pony. Everypony makes mistakes, right? I know I do." She giggled lightly at a joke he didn't quite understand. "Anyway, you should go back in there, tell that pony you're sorry, and go back to teaching. Now, I do need to get back to work too. Have a nice day." Derpy smiled and took off, before turning to hover at about the height of the school building roof. "Oh, and one more thing. I meant what I said about Dinky."
It took Ink twenty seconds to build up the strength to swallow.
- - -
September 1st, 1452 A.S.
Ponyville Schoolhouse Playground
1104 Hours
Some twelve seconds after finishing his conversation with Derpy, Mr. Ink had found his way around the side of the schoolhouse building to where the fillies and colts were playing. Or rather, had been playing. They all stopped as he approached, watching him.
Unsure of what else to do, Ink spoke to them. "You can all, uh, go back playing. Tiara, can I speak with you?"
The foals all tentatively returned to their activities, save the pink filly who had been called out. She hesitated in approaching Ink, and did so slowly, without meeting his gaze. She stopped nearly four full strides from where he had taken a seat, and called out to him uncomfortably. "Yeah?"
"I..." He took a deep sigh as he built up the effort to force the words out of himself. "I must apologize. Losing my temper, it was not fair to you."
"Oh." Diamond looked up. "I'm not in trouble?"
"No," he told her. "Though you would be smart not insulting Stol'nograd to other ponies. Many powerful and dangerous pony are coming from there."
"Okay..." Diamond muttered. "Well, can I go back and play now?"
Ink shrugged. "Help yourself."
In literary tradition, Ink might have expected to feel a great weight lifted off his soul, yet for the pleasure that Diamond's forgiveness gave him, the blots on his past were no less weighty. Instead, he still found himself facing doubt as his eyes scanned the playground, watching foals swing and spin on the merry-go-round and play an incredibly disorganized game of hoofball. Yet in their glances he saw fear–not so outright as before, and not so paralyzing, but present nevertheless.
"Hey Mr. Ink."
He turned to the orange filly with the unruly purple mane as she approached. "You are... Scootaloo, yes?"
She nodded with a little smile. "That's me. So, uh... can I ask you a favor?"
"What is it?"
"Well," Scootaloo took a moment to glance around the playground before continuing. "See, Rainbow Dash was helping teach me how to fly. Only, after she got back from Zebrica a few weeks ago, she's kinda been... keeping to herself. I was hoping I could practice and get better so I could impress her."
Knowing nothing better to do in the conversation, Ink skipped to the end. "You want me to help you fly?"
"Uh, yeah. I just need help getting in the air, so I can practice gliding and trimming with the wind and stuff."
"Okay." Ink held out a hoof.
Scootaloo was familiar with the practice. She would climb onto the older pony's hoof, and let them lift her up, providing the strength of full-sized wings while her smaller pair controlled her trim as she flapped.
Unfortunately, Red Ink was not familiar with this idea.
We now go to Mr. John Magnum for commentary of this amazing play.
"Why thank you," the older stallion in the Hawaiian shirt replied. "Now, as you can see here, the Stalliongradian Quarterback takes the foal in the hike. From there's he's up on his hind legs, great posture. Look at this step. Count it with me. One, two, three, and then back up and throw. It's like he's got a cannon for an arm! Let's see that again."
The stallion grabbed a yellow marker as the scene rewound, and began to play again in slow motion.
"Now you can see here," he highlighted around Ink's hoof. "the pacing here is gorgeous. You just don't see this kinda attention to detail in the modern sport anymore..."
Magnum rambled on as his yellow marker came to dominate the instant replay. Meanwhile, Scootaloo found herself rather high in the air, and moving incredibly fast, relative to the speed with which Rainbow would usually carry her. It took her a very short moment to realize that Ink wasn't holding onto her belly.
Then she screamed.
- - -
September 1st, 1452 A.S.
Ponyville Schoolhouse
1238 Hours
The door swung slowly open to reveal the silhouette of a terrible, but rather small, bog monster. The class stared in confusion and silent fear, though Mr. Ink mostly seemed amused.
"You are okay, Scootaloo?"
"Yeah," the filly answered, pulling the tree sap out of her mane as she stepped into the interior light. What seemed like most of a tree was sticking out of her mane. "It just took a long time to walk back from Froggy Bottom Bog."
Sweetie Belle's jaw dropped. "He threw you almost three miles?"
"I think I caught an updraft," Scootaloo replied. "I landed pretty softly, though, so that's something. Anyway, Mr. Ink, what did I miss?"
Ink resisted the urge to respond with 'the entire Everfree Forest, thankfully', and instead chose a less gruesome answer. "Oh," Ink looked around the room. "Uh, class, physics time is done now. We are going to do activity I told you about after recess. So stand up from desks, please, and we will begin. Diamond Tiara, come forward and stand at the front of the class."
As the filly moved up, Ink pulled out from behind his desk a rather large metal bucket filled with water. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a dozen bits, and dropped them into the water. Before they had drifted down all the way through, he placed his wing on the surface of the water and froze it solid. The class ooh'd at the display of magic, to which Ink shrugged. "That was not strong magic. Only a bucketful. I am not good at ice." Having concluded his work, he hauled the bucket off to the corner of the room, and then moved back to the front.
Diamond Tiara made looked to her teacher with considerably less trepidation than her previous approach. "Yes, Mr. Ink?"
"Congratulations, dear," Ink told her with a dry sarcasm that escaped the grasps of much of the class. "You are now Baron Frostbite."
"What?" Diamond asked, cocking her head in confusion.
Ink waved his wing toward the standing students in the classroom. "You are now the ruler of the Domain of Stol'nograd, and these are your subjects. You can do whatever you want with them." Horror flashed across the faces of the class as a wide grin grew on Diamond Tiara's.
Ink's explanation, however, was not done. "You will need some to go out and work the freezing fields. You will need some to stand guard against the dragons on the wall to the east. And the rest can work in the city, in warm houses, enjoying life. But if you have too few farming, your ponies will starve. And if you have too few on the wall, the dragons will sneak in, and burn down your cities like they did to Coltpenhagen thirteen years ago. So choose."
"Hey!" Applebloom called out. "Why does she get ta' be the Baron?"
"Because," Ink responded calmly. "She was born the wealthy third son of a noble from Canterlot. Her blood is the blood of Lord Iron Curtain, and Princess Platinum, and Commander Hurricane, and ultimately all the way back to Princess Celestia herself. She was born to rule. Raised to rule." Despite the drama in his words, Ink's voice was dull, flat, and deliberately unconvincing. "How could some commoner from Stol'nograd hope to compare?"
"Exactly," Diamond Tiara announced, with considerably more enthusiasm than Ink had. "Silver Spoon, come here. You get to be with me!"
"Totally!" The duo did a little dance number, and then looked out at the rest of the class. "Like... what should we do with the rest of them, Diamond?"
"Ooh! I know!" Diamond smiled predatorily as she turned her attention toward the Cutie Mark Crusaders. "I want all the blank-flanks to work the fields."
"Do you know this story?" Ink muttered to himself as he looked Diamond's direction. She didn't hear him. He turned his attention to the Crusaders. "Well, you heard the Baron. Get the bits."
"What?" Scootaloo asked.
"It's solid ice," Sweetie Belle complained.
"Ah don' wanna!" Applebloom shouted, pounding a hoof on her desk with finality. "It ain't fair, Mr. Ink!"
"Life isn't fair," Ink observed. "Diamond, are you just going to take that from her?"
Diamond looked up at her teacher with excitement. "You mean I get to make her shut up?"
"Well, you could always send her to the wall. Lots of ponies freeze to death there. Some even get eaten by dragons."
"Ooh!" Diamond Tiara rubbed her hooves together. "Alright, everypony, here's how this is gonna work. If you're a blankflank, get farming. If you complain about it like Applebloom, you get to go to the wall."
"Applebloom," Ink directed. "Go to the back wall, and stand on your hind legs with your forehooves up."
"Why?"
"Because otherwise the Baron's secret police with throw you over the wall, and you'll freeze to death or get eaten for sure," Ink answered. "Stol'nograd does not tolerate dead weight."
Grumbling under her breath, Applebloom made her way to 'the wall'. Meanwhile, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were joined by Pipsqueak, Dinky, and a few other young foals as they beat their hooves against the ice and shivered at the cold.
"The rest of you get to live in the city," Diamond told the class. Ink watched the students that relaxed back in their seats, noting the discomfort on most of their faces as they watched their friends being mistreated.
Ink spoke up, his voice commanding the attention of everypony in the room. "This, class, is what Stol'nograd was like twenty years ago. Only, instead of blank flanks, we had earth ponies forced to work the fields, and in addition to prisoners and dissenters, pegasi were put on the wall. It was a life, though not a comfortable one. Pegasi are more resistant to the cold, and serve better as scouts and soldiers. Earth ponies' magic allows them to grow more crops. But, as Applebloom put it, it was not fair. Unicorns ruled the cities, living in the warmth and controlling the money."
A hoof was raised, and Ink gestured to it.
"Why didn't Princess Celestia do anything?"
Ink nodded. "Well, at first, she allowed Baron Frostbite's actions because they were necessary. Most of you are too young to remember this–I was younger than most of you when it happened, but the Dragon Wars leveled most of the Domain. Forced work orders were necessary to reseed fields and cut down wood to rebuild homes. The threat of dragons made ponies willing to serve on the wall. Everypony did their part."
"But after that–" the foal protested.
"After that, Princess Celestia did do something. She sent a guardspony."
"One guardspony?" somepony else asked.
"A special guardspony..." Ink muttered, as his eyes scanned the room. "Pipsqueak, come to the front of the room, please."
"Me, sir?" he asked in his amusing accent.
"Yes, you. Come on up."
Pipsqueak darted forward. "Who'm I, Mr. Ink?"
"Your name is Commander Steel Lining. You are the Captain of the Honor Guard, Princess Celestia's personal bodyguard, and the hero of the Dragon Wars." As the long list of titles progressed, Pipsqueak's eyes grew wider and wider. "You've come because you and Princess Celestia are worried about how the ponies of Stol'nograd are being treated. So tell me, Commander, what do you think about Stol'nograd?"
Ink had to give the colt credit for the resolve he lent to his role. "It ain't fair!"
"And what are you doing about it?"
"I'm gonna go tell Princess Celestia!"
"Really?" Ink asked, before catching himself. "Ah, I shouldn't expect you understanding these politics. It would be bad if Stol'nograd did not become free because of native ponies, or so Commander Lining thinks. So he decided he would get ponies inside of Stol'nograd to help, instead of bringing in an army. So now, Commander, who do you go to if you want to find ponies who want to change Stol'nograd?"
"Oh, uh, Applebloom! And Rumble and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo and–"
"The blank flanks," Ink interrupted. "That seem like a smart choice. Hm... Actually, this will do nicely. Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Rumble, and..." Ink's eyes wandered the cluster of blank flanks by his frozen barrel before alighting on a purple unicorn with a loose blonde mane reminiscent of her mother's. "...Dinky. Coming up to front, please."
Diamond Tiara's eyes widened in fear as her temporary power began to slip through her hooves. Ink took a bit of amusement in this before he began to speak. "Now, class, there will be several names here, so I will write them for you on the board, in Stol'nogradskiy and then in Equiish, along with what they mean." Ink grabbed a piece of chalk. "First up, Dinky, you will be Watchful Eye."
Бдительное Око – Bbditel'noje Oko – Watchful Eye
"Now, Watchful Eye is an alicorn. Does anypony know what 'alicorn' is?" Ink scanned the class before rolling his eyes. "Yes, Twist?"
"An alicorn ith a printhethth."
Ink winced before nodding. "Yes, that's one way to put it. An alicorn is a pony like Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. A winged unicorn, some ponies say. But alicorns have all three types of magic – unicorn magic, earth pony magic, and pegasus magic."
"Earth ponies have magic?" somepony asked.
Ink nodded. "We will talk that later. But yes. Now, important thing to remember, class, is that not all alicorns are princess, or even prince. Watchful Eye was not a noble pony. His parents were an earth pony and a pegasus."
"A doctor earth pony and a mailmare pegasus?" Dinky asked with excitement.
"Uh... sure, why not?" Ink shrugged, having basically no knowledge of his grandparents’ occupations. The dragons had killed them both. Nevertheless, his acknowledgement had put a smile on Dinky's face. "Now, Watchful Eye had three sons. A unicorn, and then two pegasi. The unicorn was the oldest, and his name..."
Предвидение – Predvidenie – Foresight
"...was Foresight. Today, Sweetie Belle is going be our Foresight."
The filly nodded. "Okay."
"We'll come back to you in a moment, Sweetie. Scootaloo, you next. Watchful Eye's next son was a pegasus, he named Roscherk Krovyu."
Росчерк кровью – Roscherk Krovyu –
Ink paused for a moment considering what to put. He didn't want to put Red Ink, not only because it was wrong, but because he had no intention of revealing his part in the story to his students. After a while, he filled in the blank.
"Roscherk Krovyu means something like to take blood, and make writing with it. But most often, I have heard it translated like this."
Blood Stroke
"Blood Stroke?" Diamond Tiara asked. "Who'd name their foal that?"
"I don't know," Ink answered, unable to resist himself. "Who would name their foal after something as superficial as expensive clothing?"
Thankfully, Diamond didn't seem to catch on. Ink smiled just a little as he continued. "Watchful Eye's last son will be Rumble, because his colors are close. Just a bit more blue or purple to his mane and coat."
The little colt stared up at Ink, and the grown stallion nodded. "This last son was named Midnight."
Полночь – Polnoch' – Midnight
"Now, Baron Frostbite..." Ink paused, waiting. "Ahem. Baron Frostbite."
"What?" Diamond asked. "Oh, right, that's me. Sorry."
"You have a problem, Baron. You are supposed to be the pony with the blood right to rule Stol'nograd, but here there is an alicorn. And everypony believes that alicorns come from royal blood, whether they are known to be royal or not. Your ponies are starting to ask why you should be allowed to stay in power. What are you going to do about it?"
"Send her to the wall!" Diamond Tiara said without missing a beat.
Ink shook his head. "Wrong, Baron. Think for a second. If you sent Watchful Eye to the wall, he would be among many other ponies who also do not like you, correct?"
"Well, yeah, so?"
"So what happens if those ponies group together? What happens if they rise up against you?" Diamond gulped, and Ink nodded. "Right. The real Baron Frostbite saw this threat. So his plan instead was to welcome Watchful Eye into his family. Keep your friends close, enemies closer, is phrase?"
"I think so," Sweetie Belle told him.
"Close enough, then. Well, Frostbite took in Watchful Eye. It was his intention to solve two problems in one go. You see, Frostbite did not have any heir to take his place as Baron."
"Heir?" Scootaloo asked.
"It means kids. He didn't have any kids."
"Why not?" Diamond Tiara asked.
Ink paused, and then smiled. "Well, see, Frostbite was too busy trying to get other stallions' lollipops." And then scolding himself, he added "Not that there's anything wrong with that."
"Oooh," Twist noted, sending a chill down Ink's spine. "Tho when you thaid he wanted your brotherth lollipopth, you actually meant that he wanted to thuck hith–"
"Yes! I mean no! I mean... just, stop, please." Ink buried his face in a wing for a moment, until he was certain the onslaught was over, and then cleared his throat. "Right. Well, what matters here is that Frostbite wanted Watchful Eye's sons." The class stared at him, and Ink slowly realized what he had said. "The sons he already had. Foresight, Re– er, Blood Stroke, and Midnight."
"Oh!" the class observed in collective understanding.
"Right. So Baron Frostbite paid for Foresight to go to a bunch of fancy, expensive, stupid colleges in Canterlot and Trottingham and Prance, and he started wearing a bunch of really ugly scarves..." Ink realized he was rambling, and cut himself off. "Meanwhile, because they were pegasi, Blood Stroke and Midnight were given high-ranking positions in Frostbite's guard, who everypony called the Secret Police."
"If everypony knew what to call them," Pipsqueak asked, "wouldn't they not be secret anymore?"
"Well, they weren't really secret. They were just called the secret police. It... don't worry about it, okay. What matters is this: Dinky, you don't have to work in the fields anymore. Your family gets comfortable, important jobs, and some day, your eldest son will be the Baron of Stol'nograd. How does that make you feel?"
Dinky looked around the classroom and shook her head. "But my friends are still over there..."
"Exactly," Ink noted, patting Dinky on the head with a wing. "So one day, Commander Lining came to visit Watchful Eye, and they hatched a plan to fix Stol'nograd. Revolution."
Ink stepped over to stand behind Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Rumble.
"Now, in many ways, Watchful Eye's sons were perfect team. Foresight was genius of numbers and logistics. He could feed army better than Frostbite, and get ponies from place to place easily. He also knew strong, rare magic if things became dangerous. Blood Stroke was a great soldier, and Commander Lining taught him to use powerful pegasus magic. And while Midnight was also a soldier, his great skill was manipulating the weather. He was fast enough and strong enough to push away the clouds of Stol'nograd, if only for a few minutes. And he could build a cloudstone wall faster than anypony else I've ever heard of. He made bunkers, and barracks, and he let their ponies march without dealing with the strongest of wind and snow. His dream was to end the storm over Stol'nograd, but first they needed freedom from Baron Frostbite."
Ink sighed. "But there was one more they needed, Commander Lining insisted. A hero for the common pony who had not lived with Baron Frostbite in Burning Hearth Castle. Somepony who the earth ponies and the pegasi would stand behind because they shared in pain."
Ink turned to the back of the room, his face drawn with grim determination. "Applebloom, come here."
"Alright!" Scootaloo exclaimed.
"No," Ink answered, putting a calming wing on Scootaloo's back. "This role is not as happy as the others." The teacher rolled his neck, forcing deep breaths to control his emotions. "So Commander Lining and Midnight went to the wall, and there they found their pony. An earth pony mare named Stoikaja... she calls herself Soldier On in Equiish."
Стойкая – Stoikaja – Soldier On
Ink looked to Applebloom. "Stoi–sorry, Soldier On, was a huge mare, stronger than most buffalo, but she had been sent to the wall when one of her foals was accused of stealing a golden necklace from a noble."
"She was a mom?" Applebloom asked.
Ink nodded. "Though she was young. I believe... nineteen or twenty, when she had second foal, and joined the rebellion."
The guardspony could see their faces when he let his mind wander back. So worried about their mother, as if there were anything Frostbite could throw at her that would even make her bleed. He could see the way Predvidenie held them on his back, as the unicorn stayed back from the fight, directing the war alongside Mentor with nothing more than a map and a ledger.
"Somethin' wrong, Mr. Ink?"
The stallion returned to the present at the sound of the accented voice. "No. Nothing, Applebloom. Now, I am not going to lecture you in battles and tactics. You would not remember, and most of you would not care. But here is what is important to know: the curse of Hearth's Warming is still strong in Stol'nograd, and when the ponies there fight one another, the storm grows worse. That is why it was named the Blizzard Revolution. For almost two years, the Domain had worst storms in its history. In summer, winds blew like the worst of winters. In winter, you could freeze to death walking across the street. Ponies suffocated in their homes when they were buried under snow. Others starved. It was terrible..." Ink sighed. "...but it was a short pain, to free Stol'nograd from ponies like Frostbite forever. And that is what happened."
Ink collapsed backward, sighing gently. "Go back to your seats."
The class, attentions still riveted on Ink, scrambled back to their stools. Ink looked over them with weary eyes. "After fighting all across the Domain, the rebel army finally reached the city of Stol'nograd. Ponies loyal to Frostbite, mostly unicorns, fought in the streets. It was brutal. The rebels were hardly a trained force. The blizzard was too harsh, and supplies too short, to stop and train. Even in the winters, when fighting stopped for the sake of survival, nopony could do anything in those cramped holes. The rebel army could never beat Frostbite's force... but there was a plan, so that they did not have to."
Ink brushed back his mane with a hoof. "The army marched on Burning Hearth Castle. It was a bloodbath, going up the narrow, icy path on the cliffs, with unicorn magic raining down from all sides and pegasi pushing the soldiers off the cliffs to their deaths. But Soldier On and Midnight fought it, and because of that, the army was drawn away from Burning Hearth Castle itself."
"Did Baron Frostbite fight in the battle?" Pipsqueak asked.
Ink shook his head. "He stayed in the castle, watching from a window in his study, with two fireplaces to keep him warm, and his personal elite guard to keep him safe. At least, that's what he thought. But Commander Lining and Foresight had found an old book that told of a secret passage into the castle from the valley below. The Commander and Blood Stroke snuck into the castle, and killed Baron Frostbite's guards."
Unable to contain the suspense, one of the students spoke up. "Did they kill him?"
"No," Ink answered. "At least, not at first. They captured Frostbite, and then they snapped off his horn."
Most of the foals winced. A few unicorns, familiar with the pain of just hitting their heads too hard, sheltered their heads. Ink nodded somberly, though inside he had no regrets for what he had done.
"Then they dragged him outside, up to the balcony of the castle, and the fighting stopped. The loyalists surrendered. The revolution was over."
"But what happened to Baron Frostbite?" Pipsqueak asked.
Ink sighed. "I told you earlier about how Frostbite would throw ponies over the wall. Let them freeze to death, or be eaten by dragons." The class' eyes widened, and Ink nodded. "Blood Stroke threw Frostbite over the wall, with robes, and oil, flint, and steel for a fire."
"Why all that?"
"Because it is said that freezing to death is as painless as falling asleep. But ponies who lost legs and wings when the dragons attacked... they say the alternative is much more painful."
After a long period of silence, Ink glanced at the clock. "Now, Miss Cheerilee says to remind you, Family Appreciation Day is next week. Remember to find family you can bring. And... class dismissed."
Before the students had even filed out, Ink's head hit the desk, and he was lost in his memories.
*Ink's mind imagined that the pause probably lasted about as long as it would take for an arbitrary hypothetical reader to glance not merely to the bottom of their page, but all the way to the appendix of their book, and then look up the item in question. That is to say, the pause lasted a long time, and subsequently, it also became very awkward and jarring. It disrupted the flow of the class, much as a poorly used and inappropriate hoofnote would. Thankfully, this brief lapse in his imagination only stole his attention for a short time before he returned his thoughts to the regular flow of the class.
Hey, everybody! Didn't really think this belonged in 'Author's Notes', but I've got a request.
I'm looking for a female singer who'd be interested in helping to record "The Lullaby" that's been talked about at least a few times, both in this story and in Ghosts of the Past - Ruirik has been kind enough to take care of the rest of the music for the song, and we've got lyrics, etc, put together.
If you're interested, send me a PM and we can get in touch. Thanks a ton, and I hope you enjoy!
-Loyal Liar
Awesome update!
Hope to see more of this story soon. I really liked how Red Ink did teaching history. It was very... Him, I suppose.
Anyway, great job! Keep it up!
That was... actually a rather ingenious way to introduce the history of Stalliongrad to foals. Bravo, Red Ink, I didn't think you had it in you.
Red Ink should try out for the hoofball team. I mean, with an
armforeleg like that, he'd put the greatest quarterbacks to shame.Keep up the good work!
24
when I saw the singing at the beginning I almost thought this was a spoof chapter; glad I was wrong.
I liked how you introduced the history; I wonder if Ink will realize what the Doctor meant in his advice
Another great chapter in one of my favorite stories (and no, that is not due to bias).
клюква, клюква повсюду, тысячи её
Truer words have never been spoken...or at least, they would have had the pony speaking not been the pony with a time machine.
2414052
Time machine? What on earth are you talking about? Dr. Doctor Whooves, M.D. is a licensed medical doctor with a stylized custom jet-injector and a beautiful if clumsy marefriend.
2414121 I think that says it all. Oh wait! One more!
LL, I have consistency question.
In this chapter you introduced to CMC "Стойкая – Stoikaja – Soldier On", but On applied to Sweet Apple Acres by her real name, so shouldn't Applebloom recognise her instantly?
Also, in Ghosts Scoot was baffled with On's name on Wanted poster and yet here (and it was half year prior) she already have both names in one line.
Or I am missing something?
Second part is History lesson in itself. From WLL we were told that On served baron Frostbite and was mistreated <spoiler edited out> by Red Ink, yet here it is backwards. I R confused.
2414168
Well, firstly, unless my 'ctrl+f' does not work, Soldier On has gone by neither 'Soldier On', nor 'Stoikaja' thus far in this story. She applied to work under the false name 'Resistant', and has even gone so far as to try and eliminate her Stalliongradi (sorry, *Stol'nogradskiy*) accent.
I think it's a fair assumption that in the six-ish months between here and seeing the wanted poster, Scootaloo has forgotten a word that Red Ink put up on a chalkboard. Yes, at that point, I'm playing the 'would x character forget y' game, but I feel pretty justified in this. Scoots is a little kid who's running around doing all sorts of crazy stuff, and it doesn't seem at all a stretch that she wouldn't remember every detail of one particular history lesson (as interesting as it may have been), simply from the sheer volume of information Ink presented here.
I assume this is the sentence you're referring to in regards to On's allegiance. I'll tell you that Celestia is wrong here, and that Ink has presented a largely accurate, if skewed history in this chapter. Celestia's misinformation is the result of an assumption Ink later made, combined with Celestia's belief that On and Ink would have more reason to hate one another as strongly as they do if they fought on opposite sides of the revolution.
There's more to the story that is yet to be told, but we do know from Act 1 that Ink blames on for hiring Masquerade on Frostbite's behalf - perhaps that completes the circle here, but if not, you'll have to wait for more.
Great questions, and I'm glad I could give some clarification.
-LL
What I think will prove to be most fascinating is the exact nature of the relationship between Roscherk and Stoikaja.
truer words were never spoken
awesome aeustraeoh reference please me
Red Ink is best children teacher.
...
well, maybe he went a little to much on the adult humor/violence stuff, but he´s the funniest teacher I´ve ever read. The roleplaying thing seems a great idea to teach history too, very creative. Points to him for that.
Also, Rainbow´s probably gonna rage when she finds out about the "flying lessons" Scoots got from him.
Love that intro song. Also the ancient history lesson, but after the last comment conversation I'm just going to assume it's all lies. Nice map, though.
I really need to read Aeustraeoh, don't I?
This may be the best version of overprotective mother Derpy I have ever seen. The flaming wings is a nice touch given the setting, but the MAIL YOU HOME IN TINY BOXES is what made me laugh and laugh hard.
And that may be a best "teach Scoots to fly" moment ever.
Okay, this part of the history lesson is more believable since Red Ink directly participated and lived through it, so I'm going to assume it's largely accurate. The only part I'm wondering about at the moment is if Celestia actually sent Steel Lining to engineer a revolution, or if she just sent him to "help" and that is that what he decided to do once he got there and saw how bad things were. I could see some serious mistrust of Celestia from the other domain rulers if they know that she may engineer their downfall and subsequent brutal death if they mistreat their populace.
You know, after the comment from Rarity about pristine condition, I'm really surprised that the jacket made it to the end of the chapter unscathed.
Given no further information, I am forced to assume that the appropriate descriptor for the milkshakes is "on fire". However, since the metaphorical sense of "on fire" means something like "doing well", and that is clearly not the case for Scootaloo at the moment, I am further forced to assume that Red Ink meant it literally, and wants to set Scootaloo on fire. Sometimes my train of thought leads to rather worrying conclusions.
That settles it - Red Ink is best pony.
And Derpy is now officially second-best pony in this story.
2415470
That might be my favorite joke in the entire chapter, because it's sort of a 'fill-in-the-blank'. The rest of the thought was: "Thick." Ink likes his milkshakes "thick."
If you want a much dirtier joke, 'with a spoon in 'em' does well.
That line is actually a reference to Goldeneye (the film, not the videogame that defined a generation) - but I couldn't actually find the line on youtube, so I was unable to specify the correct number of boxes.
2414992
Give me time with the jacket. Haytler didn't destroy Stalliongrad in a day, after all.
The Q jokes must flow.
This post dedicated to Desmond Llewelyn, perhaps the most underpaid actor in human history. R.I.P., Q.
2415508
Haytler or Bitler? I think the latter is more fitting. Time to add this to my collection of short story ideas for the future. Okay, maybe not so short.
2415860
Pony Hetalia?
Bitler vs. Jose(ph/f) Stallion?
I'd read it.
2415508
Hmmm . . . I like my version better.
Though I must admit yours make far more sense. Like many things, Goldeneye is something I know nothing about, and therefore references to it will be missed.
2415970
Also, this:
Looks like that's two writing projects I've gotten from this chapter alone, although this one seems more plausible than my
BitlerxStallin shipPony WWII fic. Who knows what the future will bring?Predvidenie does, but that's beside the point.
2417884
Hate to cut you off there, but this is already a real fic. Sato is always bothering me to read it, and I've made it a fair way in. Mostly, though, we have discussions about the merits and pitfalls of my "enormous" 12K+ word chapters, as opposed to Imploding Colon's more numerous 750-1k word chapters. It makes for a great comparison because the total length of Austraeoh is terrifyingly close to that of Honor Guard.
Incidentally, that's also why the immediate next paragraph makes reference to Ink's large intestine.
Unless, of course, you mean covering your *own* history with Cyclone that isn't featured in 'Book 3' of the Of Skies Long Forgotten trilogy.
2418030
I'm well acquainted with Austraeoh... as well as it's sequels, Eljunbyro and Innavedr. They're all great, and I always look forward to the daily update.
Sato, if you're reading this, good job on getting LL to read that series. I commend thee.
That still doesn't mean I'm going to rule out the topic of crafting that story at some point, just not in that format. Cyclone's still got some time in his life I can use to pull stories from. He's too good of a character not to.
2418049
Sato, if you're reading this, you should feel terrible for how nice 24 is being to you, when you haven't even read Of Skies Long Forgotten yet. I'm tempted to use 'Red Ink cursing' at you. For goodness sake, that fic is canon in a plot you are actively pre-reading, yet you can't make the time to get it done. You're bad, and you should feel bad.
2418073 If Sato hasn't read then I shouldn't feel so bad about not having start it, right?
2418030
Have you gotten to Darkstine yet?
Just wait 'till you meet the Duke.
2418095
See, Sato, you're setting a terrible example.
Nopony, it's okay if you haven't, but you should seriously read it because it's great!
There will come a time in the 'main plot' where having read OSLF and its sequels will make the story drastically more interesting, but at no point will it ever be required. However, as someone who thought 'hey, we should do a crossover/joint-universe' on the grounds of how much I enjoyed 24's stories... well, I hope my encouragement is obvious.
2419583
This isn't your average sickle... this is a Black Cloak sickle. I'm sure Serp spent the time to sharpen and serrate that thing to a lethal point with a razor edge. All he would have to do is jam the point into another pony's neck and pull back to rip their throat out -- which is exactly what he did in that instance.
2413659
По крайней мере это качественная, хорошо продуманная и незлобивая клюква. Можно сказать полезная для здоровья.
2419971
Well, as I reckon, doing such thing would be insanely hard and I still can't understand why he would use a weapon that does not give him any advantages when it comes to range, power or ease of handling(especially considering the fact that he uses his mouth to wield it) instead of a normal sword. Also, Serp should have been a mare and there must have been the third member of their group, Zvezda. IMHO, of course.
2414426
Firstly, I should thank you, dear author for finally deigning to concede to our request and bringing Blizzard Revolution on stage. Even this completely biased version that was full of propaganda, have been very interesting and informative. As for Red's performance: he would have certainly made Dr. Goebbels proud.
Regardless, this history lesson cleared some things for me. Namely the Soldier On's case. I couldn't picture her as a " loyal chained dog of the corrupt regime", radical revolutionary that had come to antagonize the new government soon after the previous one was overthrown, now that seems more likely to me.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have to do some nitpicking
Now that came literally out of nowhere, especially since you have denied any parallels between your take on Stol'nograd and anything Soviet. Besides, it's not a noun, it's an abbreviation.
'Nationalism FTW', I guess?
I swear, youth these days...
Please, for the love of Uncertain Deity, don't encourage them! Ponification is the only thing that could make Hetalia worse!
Between that, I'll openly admit it, hilarious and stylish opening and the last part, you have almost completely demolished my forth wall. Have Pinkie bit you? Great fic is still great though, please keep up and bring us more soon.
2421838
If I had planned to use Serp ever again beyond that scene where Red Ink confronted Discord, he might have turned out differently. As it stands, he and Molot exist solely so that I could make a 'hammer & sickle' joke. Consequently, this is also why Serp uses a sickle.
However, I think you're missing some significant advantages of using a sharpened, custom-made "war sickle" in combat. For comparison's sake, let's consider a boar's tusk - or, for that matter, an elephants. The point is that much like a tusked creature, the sickle is a sharp point which sticks out from the side of the head, but also reaches forward some degree so that it's point terminates in front of the 'wielder'. It is then used essentially for 'goring' - Serp uses speed (he is a pegasus) and training to get the 'point' of the sickle into an enemy. And, contrary to your claim, this does give him a reach advantage unless the opponent is wielding a fully straight sword or other implement. By using the curvature of his neck to swing, he gets horizontal motion; it isn't much, but it's still a lot more range than some other poor pony's hooves. Once the point is 'in' his opponent, Serp is able to bring his entire body weight to bear, pushing with his wings and shoulders rather than his neck to tear through the enemy. The attacks are extremely bloody, gruesome, and tend to leave permanent scars on the unfortunate ponies who survive - which is really just about the 'point' behind using the sickle in the first place.
There's also probably a reason why Serp uses a sickle in his backstory. (I'd wager it has to do with his cutie mark, and the fact that his name means 'Sickle'), but to summarize it all, Serp's use of the sickle isn't efficient when compared to a sword, except perhaps for the depth of wounds it delivers. If Serp spent all day fighting ponies with swords, he'd probably want something else. However, proper swords aren't the easiest things to get when you're a Stalliongradian rebel, and wearing one around would make it pretty obvious you were up to something.
I admit I could have done some funny things if Serp were a mare, but I'm a little bit attached to the idea of him and Molot forming a sort of 'mirrored pair' of personalties. Serp is fast-thinking and doesn't often consider the consequences of his actions. He's small-ish and wiry. Meanwhile, Molot is this big lumbering brute (though not quite Soldier On or Big Macintosh's equal), who serves as the rational thinker of the pair, but can't always control Serp's behavior.
Anyway, if Serp were a mare, we'd have Ink sleeping with her, and then we'd be out all the fun in the world with Fluttershy...
I had no idea Gulag was an acronym; I guess you learn something new every day. I just intended it as a 'work-camp'; I'll go in and change that to something more appropriate.
2421977
GULAG=ГУЛАГ = Главное Управление ЛАГерей (yeah, Soviet acronyms are numerous and weird, especially the early ones.)
Here you can find some basics
You see, I was referring to this classic incarnation of that pair of symbols. rakocziregiseg.hu/uploads/_5265/1250175957_show_Kolkhoznitsa.jpg
And almost everywhere in Soviet heraldry you have a five pointed star accompanying the Sickle and the Hammer.stroka.tomsk.ru/sitedata/91503.jpg
You could have made at least one named Black Cloak mare that could have been a good addition to the team as well as the joke. Unicorn throwing stars wielding ninja! And I think even Roscherk would have preferred to have her as a subordinate rather than his conquest.
So, basically, he is mostly using this vicious thing against unarmed opponents and he uses it because it makes them bleed and suffer? Mr. Sickle is pretty sick.
We are talking about the state that probably had been amassing weaponry for quite some time before it had a Civil War. Even if establishing control over those weapons was the main focus of Ink and his Guard, there has to be much of it going around and stashed all over the damn place. If you give someone a weapon during the time of instability, he will hold onto it. And don't forget that weapon is valuable,so some poor folks that had it during the Revolution and stashed it could have sell it.
2418683Okay, so I have finished that masterpiece. Is your Magnus and 24th's Magnus one and the same? Did he survive being burned alive? Did he reincarnate? What happened? How? HOW? HOW?! I'm sorry... that was uncalled for. Anyways, you are right in saying that reading this will make WLL more interesting!
2426293
Magnus is the same. How this is the case will be a matter of some importance later - but for now, I'll just note that there is a point there at the end of Of Skies Long Forgotten which isn't in Hurricane's physical journal - after all, he left Stratopolis before 'that fight'. Meaning Rainbow doesn't know about that.
2422252
Heh, a shuriken using pony in the Black Cloaks... I might just use that...
Swords aren't that common in Equestria as a weapon at all, because they're super-hard to learn to use, relative to bladed shoes, which are incredibly natural. Swords are, much like in post-gunpowder Europe, much more of a status symbol than a primary weapon. Ink owns a sword, for example, but always prefers to use fire and his hooves as primary weapons.
Those ponies in the revolution seeking something with more reach often went for farming or workplace implements - hence a sickle (in addition to his name and cutie mark), a sledgehammer, and quite a few other strange or unconventional weapons.
Since the Royal Guard doesn't use swords, barring ceremonial purposes, Cloudsdale's skysteel forges don't make many, and that means there aren't many floating around. Weapons were accumulated, but those weapons were generally those which a family could actually use, rather than flailing about ineffectually without a half-lifetime of Cirran military training or similar lessons in formal telekinetic dueling.
2436111
Well, I for one think that for ponies almost every "human" weapon that they have to use while holding it in their mouth is almost equally hard to master. And even if they can't fence with it, sword is one of the best choices against an unarmored opponent. Also, I don't think that Equestrian farmers, unlike RL Medieval ones, normally use their farming tools in such a way that can give them any experience that will make it easier to learn how to fight using those tools.
Lastly, Serp is a pegasus, so he most likely wasn't a farmer.
I was thinking about Unicorns and Pegasi of Baron's army. They were trained, quite numerous, and he armed them well, with swords too, right? And those weapons were partially captured by the rebels and partially went underground with their owners, right?
If my assumptions are wrong and any kind of weaponry aside from bladed horseshoes weren't common in Stol'nograd before and during the Revolution, then Black Cloaks may use anything and still have the upper hoof against their foes.
Sorry if my comments seem obnoxious, it's just that this theme is relevant to my interests and to my TTRPG session.
2437026
Not obnoxious at all; its fun to discuss the setting.
You're alleging that swords ought to be commonplace because they're mechanically efficient relative to range, useful against unarmored opponents, and should be at least semi-readily available to the rebelling populace. The first two are true, but I'll address those in a moment. First, lets talk about the frequency of 'swordsmen' in "modern" Stalliongrad - both during the Blizzard Revolution, and later under Black Cloak rule.
Firstly, we'll talk about metal - and, implicitly, also clouds. Stalliongrad has good supplies of iron ore and is capable of producing 'ground steel' with some degree of efficiency; however, skysteel is simply a superior material for weapons manufacturing. You do get many nobles with the sort of light fencing swords - rapiers, epees, etc. - most favored by unicorns who don't actually fight; they're worn as a fashion statement, a symbol of power, and to indicate that such a 'noble' pony is ready to defend their honor if slighted even to the death. These weapons were primarily made of 'ground steel', as a sign of 'loyalty' to one's home domain. Most of them are still in the hands of the noble families who survived the revolution, but a few made their way into the general populace.
Frostbite's Secret Police, primarily composed of pegasi, needed military-grade weapons rather than the showpiece swords of the nobles. They had to choose based on their primary opponents, and their military style - and thus, they did not choose swords.
One fact that hasn't come up in huge quantities yet is that 'rebels' aren't the big issue in Stalliongrad. Ink has (had) something of an obsession with them, but that's a personal issue. The big threat to deal with in the icy wastes are monsters. Young dragons who cross the border, the vargr (for others reading this, they're semi-giant diamond dogs who hunt ponies for food), and other crazy scary things make frequent threats that have to be dealt with. And many of these creatures are armored, at least after a sense. Dragon scales can be very tough, and some creatures have even crazier defenses against which a slashing blade the way a pegasus would use a sword isn't going to do a ton of good.
Most of Frostbite's pegasi used a combination of wing blades (as discussed, these consist of many small scales on a flexible 'strap', rather than a single sword-like blade) and bladed or simply steel shoes. The wing blades offered reach and flexibility over most mouth-held weapons, and are very effective against unarmored opponents. The shoes allowed strong, blunt or piercing attacks against armored foes and large monsters. Both are semi-natural for a pegasus to use, and much easier to learn than to properly use a weapon in the mouth.
Further, both these weapons were readily available for purchase from the forges of sky cities like Cloudsdale, which were already producing them for the guards of other domains. The Royal Guard, for example, uses 'military' shoes as a primary weapon, but does not use swords except in a few special circumstances. For them, its an issue of being a police force first, and a standing army second, but nevertheless, swords aren't that common.
So Frostbite and his secret police chose shoes and wing blades because they're better against monsters, cheaper and easier to get a hold of, and easier to teach and use with recruits.
So to conclude this little segment, there are swords floating around - just not as many as you might otherwise think. They aren't super common by any stretch of the imagination.
Now, in the revolution, you did get a lot of ponies who embraced farming implements because they needed something with a bit of reach to help against wing-blades. These improvised weapons weren't exactly ideal, but there wasn't much by way of a superior alternative. A lot of improvised polearms showed up in the war, at least to begin with. Over time, the rebels captured armories and looted corpses until they had their own stash of wing-blades, military shoes, and formal polearms. (Would ponies call them pole-legs?)
After Frostbite was taken down and everything settled, the Black Cloaks became the new 'formal' military and police force. Most of them were 'elite' soldiers from the Revolution: ex-Secret Police who'd sided with Ink, primarily. Because they'd gotten their position by being 'the best soldiers', they generally kept doing things the way they had in the revolution. Serp kept using a sickle, even if he had the option of a mechanically superior weapon, because it was his sickle. Molot had the same idea with his hammer. Both of them are good enough soldiers that their choices of weapon aren't really a hindrance for them. Having his 'signature' sickle, Serp goes out of his way to make it a symbol of fear and control, much in the same way that Ink's realistically cheap jacket has come to represent his entire organization, and their rule over Stalliongrad.
But you raise a good point about why Serp would have started with a sickle in the first place. The explanation is rather subtle as far as I've already presented it, but the idea is simple. Serp is a good three or four years younger than Ink, and Ink was really young to be leading a revolution when it started. Serp wasn't a farmer when things started, but he wasn't a soldier either; he was still struggling his way through school when the revolution started. The sickle was something he picked up because he needed a weapon, and didn't have one from prior military service. He could certainly have chosen a woodcutting axe or a kitchen knife instead, but a sword was out of the question for him.
In the really modern period, the Black Cloaks do have a near-monopoly on military training in Stalliongrad. The only other 'soldiers' are the revolutionaries who sided with Stoikaja after Frostbite was overthrown, and a few crazy woodsponies and frontierponies who're brave enough and skilled enough to survive the monsters that show up out of the wastes. Ink is very aware of controlling access to military power, and thus he goes well out of his way to make sure anypony with a predilection for that sort of skill is 'encouraged' in the direction of the Black Cloaks. As a result, your assessment is correct: the Black Cloaks have a monopoly on the use of force in the Stalliongradi state, and are thus largely able to exert their will unopposed on the populace.
It should be noted that, despite the way I tend to depict them in general, and Ink himself in particular, that they aren't super-evil universal bad guys who love to stroke their nefarious moustaches and tie mares to the railroad tracks. They certainly aren't a nice group of ponies, but Celestia wouldn't tolerate them if they were hurting real 'innocents'. When I use the phrase 'rule by fear', what I primarily mean is that they often use excessive force and/or extra-brutal punishments when dealing with wrong-doers.
That may not be the best explanation, but its what I could do without spoiling things; the topic will be explained better in the fic eventually.
Thanks for the interest. I hope that helps. Let me know if you (or anyone else) has any more questions.
-Loyal Liar
2437759
Well, thank you.
Ok, I have corrected my view on the arms issue in Stol'nograd, even though I think that it might cause some RAGE from my players, but hay, the GM should be a bastard sometimes.
Still can't get my head around the fact that nobody (except those few rebels) gives a damn about things that statement implies. Possibilities for corruption and power abuse are endless.
Well, now I'm confused. You see, IMHO the thought process of a revolutionary, of a Secret Police operative and of a professional soldier differ greatly. Former two will most likely chose to project the designed image via making their actions and their means symbolic, while the latter will prefer to be efficient. Black Cloaks being the amalgamation of Army and Secret Police, one will think that they will have more cynical rationalists in their midst. You have portrayed three of them, and they all seem to be far too idealistic (yeah, even Roscherk is an idealist, just a peculiar one with a great deal of butthurt) to do their job. IMHO, of course.
So, basically, they are like ЧК, still operating in accordance with the Revolution's Law. Yet everyone outside the Stol'nograd treat them with despise and fear. Such a bunch of hypocrites those Canterlot ponies are, I tell you.
As for questions : what became of that great fortifications system Frostbite built and with his penitentiary system?
Thanks again for your feedback, hope that our discussion does not distract you from writing MOAR.
2439891
I don't know if you're actually in Russia, or somewhere nearby that speaks Russian, or you just speak Russian and live nowhere near the place; that being said, apologies if this is confusing.
Imagine, for a moment, your 'tax-guys': that would be the I.R.S. in America, or whatever government posting does the tax collecting where you're from. Now, unless you come from a *very* strange part of the world, I'd suspect those people aren't very well liked. They tend to be the butt of jokes because they take your money and... you get the picture. At the same time, most people understand that in exchange for the cost of putting up with those people, you get an ostensibly functional and stable government.
Now imagine that the I.R.S.'s job was to kill giant monsters that attacked your hometown. I imagine a lot of people still wouldn't like having their money taken away, but in the end, that's the price of not getting eaten by dragons and vargr and what have you.
The Black Cloaks are mostly thought of like that; only, they don't actually collect taxes. The point of the tax comparison is that they aren't generally liked very well on a semi-personal level. That is, most ponies in Stalliongrad go out of their way to avoid being around the Black Cloaks. At the same time, however, they don't despise them because they provide an extremely valuable service. The fact that the service is provided in a potentially gruesome way is distasteful, but the average pony doesn't have anything to fear from them.
To sum this particular thought up, I'll jump back to a statement earlier:
This isn't my thought, except inasmuch as it applies to the fictional state of Stalliongrad. In 1919, Max Weber wrote a series of essays called Politics as a Vocation, in which he defined the state as "any organization holding a monopoly on the legitimate use of physical force within a region." The Black Cloaks have a monopoly on force in Stalliongrad, in the same sense that the armies and police of any modern state have a monopoly on force within their borders.
Of course, in most modern states, the police aren't the same group as the army, and I'll concede that does offer new avenues for corruption. But then I have to ask...
...are you going to bring that up with Red Ink?
There are a surplus of cynical rationalists in the ranks of the Black Cloaks. I'll disagree with your statement that all three B.C.'s characterized thus far are idealists; Molot is very much a rationalist in my eyes, and in the handful of scene's he's appeared in during Act II, one could certainly make the case that he's cynical. We don't see a lot of him shine through, however, because Roscherk and Serp are overpowering personalities to his.
That being said, the subset of B.C.'s shown thus far is very much a poor sample of the overall organization, because it exclusively represents the leadership of the organization. Further, that leadership's mentalities are skewed from the norm of the organization by factors relating to the creation of the organization itself.
The Black Cloaks came out of Ink's 'elite troops' during the Blizzard Revolution; these ponies tended to be younger like-minded idealists, because the mindset of cynical pragmatism at the time lent itself to the idea that the status quo ought to be maintained. These ponies got training from Ink, and at times, the Commander as well. They were good. So when the revolution was over, and Ink was tasked with creating a new police force/army to protect Stalliongrad, he just went ahead and grabbed his inner circle from the revolution, because they were excellent soldiers. This happened to also produce a leadership primarily consisting of rather young, idealistic, social, and violent ponies.
And yes, I agree Ink is an idealist; Foresight is the bitter pragmatist of their political 'dynamic duo'.
On that note, it should be observed that 'Big Brother' (insert groan here) tends to do an awful lot in terms of keeping the Black Cloaks in check. If you need to ask how, just think about where the money comes from.
More or less, yes. If you discount the active militance of the anti-Black Cloak revolutionaries, Stalliongrad has the lowest crime rate in all of Equestria (I know I haven't said so yet; some statistics have to be saved for when they really matter). The Black Cloaks don't have a true 'police state' where they control information. They won't kill you or arrest you for talking out about them; they'll just look very closely to see if you have ties to the rebels. Then they'll kill you.
Well, the physical structure of the wall is still out there. It wasn't really ever meant to be done, so to speak, but it does form a complete barrier from the northern sea/ocean to the southern sea/ocean. However, it's barely staffed these days.
The Black Cloaks, and Red Ink in particular, aren't big fans of internment as a method of punishment. It's expensive, requires guards dedicated to living out in the middle of nowhere, and unless you commit a lot of work into getting food and clothing out into the middle of nowhere, it's essentially just a drawn out, uncomfortable death. In Ink's mind, he'd rather just light them on fire or slit their throats and be done with it; overall, both methods could be argued to be less painful.
The Black Cloaks have three or four major types of punishment:
Firstly, they use fines for minor crimes like petty theft, etc. They do not hesitate to take the necessary money in property if a fine cannot be paid in currency, and tend not to offer the criminal their choice of what to lose.
The second is not a formal punishment per se, hence 'three or four' above, but it does happen with some degree of frequency: a beating. Ponies who try to 'get out of' whatever punishment they wind up with are generally beaten into submission (though very rarely to any permanent harm; with skill in battle come control). Then the original intended punishment is delivered.
The last two punishments are only for violent crimes or actions against the state. Assault, treason, murder, or any act of knowingly and deliberately aiding the revolutionaries - notably including knowing about revolutionaries, and choosing not to report them.
Death is the most common choice (and I should note, it's the B.C.'s doing the choosing). By and large, Ink isn't a fan of torture for execution (that's reserved for getting information), but he does have a preference for showy methods of execution, in order to further his psychological control over the populace. As a result, Black Cloak executions tend to be large public ordeals, and with some frequency, they wind up 'messy'. Ink does own a sword, as discussed above. This is what it's for.
When Ink or the other B.C's catch a really notable revolutionary, however, they'll do something special. They uses the same execution method Baron Frostbite did: take the pony to the wall, break one wing if they're a pegasus, and throw them over. Then they get to choose death by dragons, or by freezing to death.
There is a last option that Ink uses when he really wants to make an impression - and I do say Ink here specifically because he is the only one who can do it. However, I wouldn't want to spoil things, so just be aware of 'floating option 4'.
-LL
2440986
I do live in Russia, I thought that much was obvious from some of my comments. Now, let's get to the point.
I agree with you that the sole fact of such treats' existence is a major factor when it comes to tolerating those kind of organizations, but still there must be quite a few malcontent individuals beside the rebels.
Firstly, I have to ask you : does he know? Does he even care?
Even if he is the head of the organization, he can't really be aware of everything that his subordinates do. And, if I get it right, there are no ponies outside Black Cloaks that can oppose them right then and there.
Well, I haven't even started Act II yet for reasons that I have stated to you not so long ago.
And if the majority of B.C. consists of such pragmatic individuals, then they have not only the means but also the needed mind set to abuse their power and to encourage corruption.
It didn't really came across to me from Act I, I see him as someone even more idealistic than Ink, but hey you certainly know him better than I do. I will be glad to see that side of him in the future.
Nice Orwell reference.
Now to that statement itself I have to say this: where the money come from and where they go to are the main reasons for corruption and power abuse.
There are many ways for B.C. to earn some extra cash that won't be in their account, as well as to spend that money.
You can make the system of work camps that will be very profitable and useful to economy as well as capable of helping you in accomplishing some serious strategic goals, NKVD guarantees it.
If Ink does not want to use any form of imprisonment and/or forced labor for idealogical reasons - well, so be it, but that makes him an anarchist in that .regard, which IMHO, slightly contradicts his other views.
Oh, it's a guess game.
My best bet is : public cremation.
2440986
I have discussed those moments with some of my friends, and they brought my attention to the fact that I have a tendency to be, I quote, "obnoxiously obstinate" in my attempts to bring realism (or, as they say "what you perceive as realism") into my RP or any work of fiction I like.
IMHO, based on my layman's study of similar periods of RL history, it was virtually impossible for Black Cloaks to suppress almost all of the opposition (you said that real numbers of rebels aren't high) and to bring down the crime rate. After the long period of unrest normal people tend to be more prone to revolting and it's almost impossible to make them content. Same thing with the crime rates.
Also it's hard for me to believe that B.C. could avoid corruption, especially since there are many ex-Secret Police in their midst.
Oh, and I still think that Roscherk is an incompetent overconfident asshole.
Still, if you say that I should leave my assumptions at the door - so be it, your fic and the setting you create is really good as it is.
2447636
Okay, so I'm going to observe a few things, and you can take them however you want. I'll start pretty removed from the story, though.
I didn't set out to make a 'real' socio-economic region in Stalliongrad; I don't have the education necessary, for one thing. If you pull out a magnifying glass, it's not going to work at the microcosmic level, unless you're willing to just accept some things. Neither does Canterlot, for that matter, though I won't pretend to compare myself to the relevant writers at 'hiding the moving pieces', so to speak.
Now, that being said, I'll go ahead and address a few points where I think, perhaps, you aren't giving the system enough credit:
Well, the opposition isn't suppressed, unless we aren't understanding each other's use of the word. If Ink were in total control of the populace, there wouldn't be a rebellion, and Stalliongrad would probably be much more Orwellian. There's been a rebellion since give-or-take six months after the end of the revolution, when Soldier On started things. And since then, there have been these anti-Black Cloak elements throughout the Domain of Stalliongrad.
Now, I'm not about to have a 'death penalty' argument here - especially when I don't by any means agree with Roscherk's liberal interpretation of the term - but I suspect that a society where all violent crime at the level of Assault and above is punished by public execution would see a drop off when compared to a society making use of incarceration and/or forced labor as a punishment technique.
But that issue of debate leads into this:
Now, I know you haven't read Act 2, so for now, I guess you can just accept this (or don't, if you prefer), but here's the thing:
Post-revolution Stalliongrad, even with the rebel issue, has a vastly higher standard of living for the average pony than the city had under Baron Frostbite. A lot of this has to do with Foresight, so I'll duck aside for a moment here to address another point of yours:
Now, I'll be the first to admit that most of Foresights 3-ish lines in Act 1 aren't exactly indicative of his mindset. You do, however, see some of his quasi-political acumen in the second Epilogue:
Anyway, you'll see a lot more of Foresight in Act II. The point to be made here, however, is that Foresight has a lot of economic influence, both in controlling the Black Cloaks and in improving the lives of the average Stalliongradian city. He brought in a ton of foreign trade, improved the railroads so they could run regardless of the amount of snow, and generally brought Stalliongrad's economy up to par with the rest of Equestria. He's got a lot of business dealings, including both Filthy Rich (as alluded to here), and Rainbow's grandfather, Silver Lining.
Anyway, I brought up Foresight to address the issue with malcontent and uprising:
So, I guess to conclude, here's my point:
The 'people' (that is, in this case, the rebels) aren't rebelling because they're unhappy, nor for any general mistreatment. Indeed, the average Stalliongradian citizen doesn't have a whole lot to do with them (and likes it that way). To repeat myself, the Black Cloaks are cruel, but they aren't an overriding social influence.
So at this point, you're probably wondering: why the hell is there a rebellion, then?
Well, unfortunately, I can't tell you. At least, not without spoiling this fic. But if that's any consolation, it means that at least you'll find out soon(-ish), right?
Now, let's talk about Corruption.
I admit, I haven't really addressed the issue. I'm not going to pretend the Black Cloaks are this 'ideal' organization; there are opportunities for corruption, and ponies do take advantage of their positions.
That being said, it isn't 'running amok', just as much due to Foresight's near-supernatural skill with ledgers and records as from Ink's tendency to be... liberally harsh in dealing with subordinates who go too far.
And I suppose that segue's quite well into my final point:
-You haven't actually seen him doing his job. Ever. The closest he comes to being 'the Commandant' is in Act 1 while trying to hunt down Soldier On and Masquerade. Obviously, he 'failed' at that, but you have to look at it from his perspective:
"You have less than one week to capture one of these two 'arch-criminals', bring them back alive, and extract from them the nature of the poison used on Luna. You're technically Captain of the Honor Guard, but the majority of your subordinates are dispersed across Equestria where you have no real means of contacting them. As a result, your team is the small escort group you brought from Stalliongrad to accompany your father to the Stable of Nobles. Your best lead is to walk outside to the garden and just ask Discord if he knows where to look. However, Soldier On has a two day lead on you, and Masquerade has a four day lead. They could literally be anywhere in Equestria. So there you go. Chop chop."
So I do draw issue with incompetent. The other two... not so much. Fundamentally, he is overconfident, and we wouldn't have this fic at all if he weren't a giant asshole.
2448121
So, Farsight is pragmatic as well as talented in his own way but he is not cynical. Right?
Due to having cutie marks crazy magic at their disposal, new government have managed to rise economy and, subsequently, peoples welfare high enough to make most of the population loyal.
When it comes to the rebels issue, I meant that: those rebels are few in numbers, they does not have massive support of the people (if any) and they aren't really a threat to the existence of the new regime at this point. They are 'suppressed' but still present.
I agree, we should be very careful, because this subject is very ambiguous and flame inducing. But I have to say that there are quite a few argument of the opposite view. That also can be said about possible risk evaluation of corrupted Black Cloaks. Still, those are ponies we are talking about, so let's say that this method works for them.
Well, my players in TTRPG will inevitably pay Stol'nograd a visit, so I would like you to clarify something for me. That is, of course, if you can do this without spoilers and think that this is the right place to do it.
My main question is : What Black Cloaks do control, beside obvious things like police and military resources?
IMO for being effective they have to control:
1)Transportation
2)Communications
3)Mass Media (if they don't want rebels' propaganda there)
4)They need to have a significant number of informants.
5)All financial and trading transactions( if they want to cut out rebels' funds)
That's the needed minimum minimorum.
My minor question is:
How log will you be teasing us with statements like this one?
I keep calling Ink incompetent because his 'modus operandi' in all situation that you have show him in, as well as his shown character traits have nothing in common with those RL and fiction characters that had been successful in the same position of power and do not make him look like a professional.
His job as Commander's substitute was really hard, but he is not supposed to mess up the way he did, ever.
And as I saw it, he didn't give a buck about Luna, he was primarily focused on his own goals.
Thanks again for putting up with me.
2448444
Okay, I'm gonna go ahead and pull this conversation aside. Not because it isn't fascinating (it is), but because I don't want to stifle discussion of the actual story. So I'll make a thread in our group forum to talk about Stalliongradi society.
That being said, I am going to answer your comment about Ink here very briefly, because (as is hopefully obvious) discussion of his character is obviously the direct subject of the story.
I would be hard pressed to say Ink is in any way 'professional' about his work, but that's hardly the same as his being incompetent. He's (as has already been discussed) an asshole, with a near-total lack of respect for institutions like the military ranking system, and his peers in guardsponies like Shining Armor. That makes him unprofessional, but it says nothing about his results. Namely, results like "Shining Armor stopped me when I could have killed Soldier On", and "Baron Frostbite is dead."
To reiterate, I guess I'll note that Ink is very much the same kind of a guardspony that Rainbow is a weathermare: he has virtually no respect for the system, and often times uses the position for personal gain (see: Hurricane Fluttershy), but he's so damn good at the job itself that it almost doesn't matter.
2448711
I'm very glad that our discussion resulted in the creation of such tread. There we can argue about those damn 'cranberry ponies' until we are blue in the face.
Ink... Well, I have never doubted the fact that he is the good and competent soldier, albeit the rowdy one. He also is the 'true killer'
I just have entirely different set of qualities in mind that, as I see it, are needed to do his current job. Oh, and I don't think that he is the 'true stallion'
2449619
I don't get the 'cranberry' joke; I had assumed google translate was lying to me; could you clarify? Is it just because he's red?
Also, the "true stallion", for that matter?
2449644
Nope, клюква (cranberry) or развесистая клюква (branchy cranberry?), is the term in Russian for all of the most stereotypical ideas about Russia in the foreign culture and media.
I doubt that you will be interested enough to read all of this, but you can get the idea from the pictures and videos that are present.
"True stallion" = "true man", someone who posses not the facade of a 'macho' but the inner core, and balls of steel.
IMO this man and almost every character that he played are way more manly than Roscherk.
Also, you do not believe Google Translate, ever. At least not until you double- and triple-checked what he gives you using another dictionary.
lurkmore.so/images/thumb/d/d1/Mlp_powered_by_google_translate.jpg/200px-Mlp_powered_by_google_translate.jpg
Nuff said
2449826
Oh, I know about Google Translate. Keyesty gave me an awful lot of shit about the translation of Nightmare Moon, and how bad it is. But when I don't have access to her for comments, its usually easy enough to guess the end meaning of a phrase by punching it in and sorting through all the words that just seem out of place. So when I saw 'cranberry' in an otherwise serious sentence, I suspected it was a mistranslation. That being said, that's good to know. Thanks!
2449918 Called, boss?
LoyalLiar, Fillosof, your comments alone require separate tag and to be published as an extra chapter, so big it get here.
And I feel insulted, what do you imply by me giving you shit? I do not practise in such a form of fertilisation of work of my favourite author. It was merely a note on common failures in automated translation.
2449826 I'm afraid LL won't be able to read or even translate article on lurkmore without help, but I will make it my next task to answer any of his questions about it.
Oh, I remember that one, we had a nice discussion and even learned few new recipes. It also help that I am Юкрейниан.
2450334
Nice to see another person interested in our discussion, a lady no less. I'm pretty sure that right now LL is very sorry for his poor choice of words, and at the same time he is very glad to have such an understanding and forgiving subordinate.
As for my link to Lurkmore, I think that those pictures and videos, while not being able to get across all of 'the lulz', make a decent job of explaining that term.
And LL really should be proud, as far as I know he have avoided almost all of those clichés. Exceptions are: Serp&Molot usage plus, arguably, his choice of Ink's main music team.
I do not count the everlasting winter as one of those, because it's a legitimate part of the canon.
Still, the absence of bears saddens me.
Well, as soon as will be able to cook anything but pelmeny, I will definitely ask you about some of those recipes.
Напоследок хотел бы спросить вот о чем : испытали ли Вы когнитивный диссонанс узнав, что имя Applejack таки и правда переводиться как Яблочная Водка?
2451940 Nope. I've entered 3y.o. mode and innocently asked my parents what does it mean.
2540518
Well, TechnoPony, welcome to my good side. It's an exclusive club, reserved for those who comment more than three times in one day, or draw me fan art.
EDIT: Crap, did I put this up where everyone can see it? I don't want just *anyone* on my good side, after all.