> Equestria: Total War
>  by emkajii
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Flashforward.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mount Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia.

The rain rattled against the thin tarp. Derpy rubbed her eye, and checked the hourglass. It was fifteen minutes past dawn. Supposedly. The sky didn't agree. She stilled her breathing, and tried to listen for the now-familiar shriek and crash of battle.

Nothing. Just the rain. She heard a crack. Maybe artillery. Probably thunder.

But there was a battle, even if she couldn't hear it. Of course there was. She had given the order to open fire at dawn, and they would obey. She strained her ears. Still nothing. For the first time that she had sent ponies to die, she couldn't hear it. It somehow made it less...real. She didn't like that. It wasn't fair. It was real to them. It should be real to her, too.

She picked up the helmet sitting next to her, still brilliant and golden. The battle would be real to her soon, at any rate. She tossed the helm in her hooves a few times, testing its weight. It was satisfying as always. She put it on. For the last time? Heh. She remembered when she used to think that every time she wore the damned thing. She was such a filly then. She didn't bother with drama any more.

Not for her, at least. Drama for others was fine. She tied her cloak with expert lips. She stepped into her polished boots. And she checked the mirror. She wasn't vain, no. How could she be, with the life she had lived? But she knew the value of a symbol. And though she still couldn't believe it, she was a symbol. Looking the part was just another weapon.

She bit her lip. Well. Showtime. She nudged the tent flap open, and stepped into the lashing rain. Before her, her lancers were arranged in formation, in a tight square. She raised her hoof in salute. The din of twenty thousand raindrops beating against five hundred helmets nearly drowned out the roar of five hundred voices. As they cheered, her gaze drifted from her soldiers to the mountain-fortress behind them. This...would be difficult.

And as they quieted, she began to speak. This would be short, shorter than most. The battle had begun. Time was critical.



"Ponies! We have fought and won six battles in as many weeks. Two gryphon armies have been shattered. Thousands of the enemy have been taken prisoner; tens of thousands more lie dead in their fields. We have crossed mountains and rivers. We have taken cities. We have met a dozen impossibilities, and a dozen times we have redefined what is possible for a pony to do. Yet what we have done so far is nothing compared to what we must now do. 

"We stand at the foot of Mount Kali'gryph. Ten centuries of tyranny look down upon you. The undefeated Immortal Guard looks down upon you. The Gryphon King looks down upon you. In the valley below, our brothers and sisters are currently waging a frontal assault on the land route. Their casualties will be high. Their sacrifice is given willingly, for it will enable you to end this war this very hour.

"The gryphons have numbers and altitude. But they are unaware of our coming. This is a battle fought on our terms, at the moment of our choosing. And we have never--we will never--lose such a battle. I myself will lead the charge. I myself will carry our banner. Stay with me. Fight with me. And live or die, you will become immortal, for ponies will say of you, from our celebrations tonight until the end of the world, 'She fought with the 3rd Lancers.'"



Her iron voice fell silent, and the ponies stood, entranced. One second. Two seconds. And then the spell was broken. They cheered ecstatically. Derpy smiled maternally; they always cheered like that. One last bit of catharsis before jumping into Hell. She picked up the torn, proud banner. Cannon fire--yes, it was certainly cannon fire--rumbled from the valley below. This was it. She opened her wings. So did her Lancers. She looked up, squinting her eye against the rain. So did they. And, as one, they took off.

> I. Mt. Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. July, 1251. 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I. Mt. Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. July, 1251


The King spoke, his voice raspy. "Raspy" didn't do it justice, really. She could hardly believe he was alive when he spoke. Listening to his voice, there couldn't have been more than a cup of water in his entire body. But still he breathed, still he commanded, and still he spoke:


The Earth is the Dualty of Harmony and Discord. 
Harmony is a great banyan; the banyan will die, and fall, and rot.
Discord is an empty field; the field will sprout, and grow, and flourish.
All that is harmonic will be discordant.
All that is discordant will be harmonic.
So was the Earth made.
So is the Earth preserved.
So will the Earth be sustained.



The dust danced in the shafts of light cast by the narrow windows. The young gryphon looked around. She had been here before, of course, but it was always impressive in its vastness. And the chamber was empty, save a few assorted artworks, the throne, and the dust. Always the dust. 

"What is that from, Twistbeak?"  The gryphon king followed a mote of dust with his eye, then returned his gaze to the scroll in his hands. "Those lines. Surely you've heard them."

Twistbeak ran her talons through her crest. 

The king looked up sharply. "Well, Twistbeak? What is that from?"

"The Beginnings, sir?" she ventured. Seeing no response, she opened her beak to guess again, but the king resumed speaking.

"Yes. The Beginnings. Beautiful, isn't it? All of the Earth was once so.  The Dualty. Harmony and discord. The sun rises. The moon sets. The trees grow. Eggs hatch. All driven by the intricate interplay of chaos and order. That's how it works, isn't that right, Twistbeak?" He set the scroll down, by his leg.

Twistbeak shifted her weight, and glanced around the room. Her pinfeathers were beginning to itch. She hated when the king made him guess where he was headed. He continued.

"Yes, of course it is. But not...not everywhere, is it, Twistbeak? How do they do things to the south?"

So that was why she was brought in. Her fact-finding mission. "Ahem. Yes, sir. Er, that is, no, sir. That is not the case in Equestria, sir.  There is no Dualty there. There is no discord, there, sir, as a direct result of the ancient war between the Avatar of Discord and the remnants of the alicorns, in which the Elements of Harmony were used to--"

"--Twistbeak!" the king spat, "I didn't ask you for history. Bunch of rubbish and myth, that stuff. If a king spent his time reading hatchery tales, we'd all declare war on the Flowerpot Fairies, and fix our budgets by spinning feathers into gold! Now!" He paused, then continued,  gently. "How do they do things in Equestria?"

The shafts of light dimmed as a cloud drifted in front of the sun.

"As I said, sir--" she sputtered, "there is no discord in Equestria, so there is no Dualty, so life does not proceed normally. The Equestrian Queen herself raises the sun and moon. Her minions grow the plants, and raise the animals, and cull the excess, and move the clouds, and so on."

"Everywhere in Equestria, Twistbeak?"  The king raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir. Everywhere."

There was a pause. Two seconds. Five seconds. Twistbeak coughed. Seven seconds. She glanced at a particularly fine portrait on the wall, then back at the king.

"...ev-er-y-where in Equestria, Twistbeak?"

"...y...yes sir. Everywhere."

"Have you been to the Everfree Forest, Twistbeak?" The king leaned forward in his throne, and rested his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. A chummy posture. A dangerous posture. "Did you go there, too?"

Twistbeak swallowed. "...I...I have...not, sir. I did not. It's...dangerous."

The king smiled. "And why is it dangerous, Twistbeak?"

"The ponies say...it's unnatural."

"Heh. Heheh." The king chuckled. Twistbeak smiled uneasily. "Heh heh heh. Unnatural. They call it unnatural. Heh heh heh. Isn't that funny, Twistbeak?"

"Er...yes! Yes, sir, it is. Very funny." Twistbeak smiled painfully, her eyes darting around the room, looking for any sort of clue as to what was happening.

"Yes, Twistbeak, it is. Very funny. And tell me." The king's eyes narrowed.  His voice lowered. At the entrance to the chamber, the guards suddenly crossed their pikes. "Why, Twistbeak. Why is that funny."

Twistbeak just stared. She didn't understand. She was told to find out about the ponies. Why was the king fixated on some little patch of trees the ponies never even went to? She glanced behind her shoulder.

"No, Twistbeak. Answer me. Not the guards. Why. Is. That. Funny."

"I...I. I don't know, sir. I don't know why that's funny."

The king stood up. Twistbeak froze dead still. Her pupils narrowed to a dot. Her feathers were pulled flush with her skin. The king took a few steps forward. He was slow. Deliberate. Controlled. He was right in front of her, face to face. She could feel her heartbeat crashing through her body--in her chest, her ears, she could practically see it in her eyes. 

Suddenly, she was crumpled on the cold stone floor, her face stinging, her ears ringing. The king opened and closed his right hand tentatively.

He crouched next to her. She slammed her eyes shut. He whispered, almost affectionately. "Heh. You've got a hard skull, Twistbeak. That stung more than I expected. You're quite fortunate. Few sting a king and survive to brag about it."

The king stood, and returned to his throne. At the entrace to the room, the guards returned their pikes to vertical. Twistbeak picked herself up off the floor, and began rearranging her robes. The king raised his palm, and spoke. Loudly--louder than he needed to.

"No, Twistbeak, do not concern yourself with that now. You have bigger problems than appearances. I sent you to Equestria to learn about how their society operates. You have told me nothing I did not know, and despite living there on my gold for a year, you know quite a bit less than I did when you began. It is funny, Twistbeak, that the ponies call the Everfree Forest unnatural because it is the only natural place in their damned kingdom. 

"For whatever reason, some time ago the Queen refused to allow ponies entrance to the area surrounding a ruined castle, and she withdrew her protection from it. With neither harmony nor discord, the area returned to its primal state, those forces were reborn, and now it is the only place in Equestria that acts like the rest of the Earth. What does that tell you, Twistbeak?--No, please don't answer that question, you've depressed me enough today with how little my investment bought. That tells you--or, in your case, should tell you--that Equestria need not be so unnatural. Remove the Queen, remove Order, and the whole place would return to normality within a generation."

Twistbeak fought back a tear. She was better than this, she knew it. She had lived in Equestria for years. She had written pages and pages on Equestrian culture. She knew more than anyone in Gryphonia about the kingdom. She had to try something. A long shot, even. She had lost so much face. She had to recover it.

It was time to roll the dice. She breathed in sharply. Now.



"Sir!"  Her voice pierced the room. It was almost a squawk.

The king drew back a bit, eyebrow raised again. A smile crept across his beak. "What's this? Something else? Some new and exciting way of invalidating my prior faith in you?"

"No, sir. It isn't just the Queen, sir, not any more. Her sister has returned. Luna is back."

"How nice! I shall send a letter of congratulations. Anything else? Sports scores, perhaps? I have quite a bet on the Polo Finals!"  He spoke so warmly, her heart was lifted for a moment, before it hit her. Sarcasm, then. That was new. Still, she was in too deeply. She had to keep going. 

"Since Luna is back, sir, the night is again at her disposal. And she hasn't held that responsibility for a thousand years."

"Yes, yes, I assumed she wasn't exercising her regal duties while imprisoned in the sky. Are you going anywhere with--"

"--and because of that, their night-time defenses are likely to be weak now. When the Queen is asleep, and when Luna is fixated on trying to carry out her duties, how much attention do you think they'll be paying to their northern borders?" Twistbeak talked excitedly, trying to get in as much as she could as fast as she could. "And with the harvest coming up in a few months, the townsfolk will have returned to their farms. And most ponies will be travelling to the south; that's where the fair will be in the fall. It would take ages to call a muster. We could have an army of lions on their borders before Canterlot knew we had raised it. We could be in Fillydelphia before they had even begun raising an army . Or we could take Manehattan, that would shut down their foreign trade. We could--"

She stopped, looking for a reaction. Had she gone too far? The king just sat, silent, stonefaced. She swallowed again, and opened her mouth to continue, but the king shook his head.

After a few seconds more, he spoke. Slowly, enunciating every word. "Twistbeak, Equestria is unnatural. It is profane. Its existence spits in the face of the Dualty. It is a cancer, Twistbeak, and a cancer that grows every year. Every year I write the Queen demanding her settlers stop encroaching on ancestral Gryphon territory. Every year she informs me that those lands were 'unclaimed' and therefore she will not evict the settlers. Every year more distraught gryphons write me saying that the lands of our fathers have fallen dead and still, doing nothing unless a--a pony bids it happen!

"I sent you back to Equestria to find out more about the nature of this profanity. You have failed to do that, and failed completely. But you have, perhaps, done me a greater service. You have given me hope that the cancer might be excised entirely. "

Twistbeak felt her heart open. She nodded, more emphatically than she needed to. Perhaps she was redeemed.

The king thought for a second, then shouted to a guard. "Find Malachi. Tell him to write another letter to the Equestrian Queen demanding the offending settlements be abandoned. Request that the Zebra, Buffalo, and Antelope ambassadors grant an audience when possible. But wait! First summon the Marshals. Quickly, as quickly as you can. Tell them we have much to discuss."

He looked down to the young gryphon in front of him. He looked kind. Grandfatherly. "Twistbeak.  Do not speak a word to anyone of what you have said in here. When you exit this room, do not go to the main entrance. Turn to the left, and go down the long staircase. When the guard stops you, tell him this: 'my talons need sharpening.' Say those words exactly and nothing else. He will take you to a part of the palace you have not yet been, and there you will begin the next step of your career. Go now. The time for rest is over. We must all move quickly. You have pushed a pebble down the mountainside, Twistbeak, and you must be ready when it is time to ride the avalanche."

Twistbeak bowed, knocking her forehead to the floor. Then she stood, walked backwards ten steps, then turned and walked out of the chamber, straightening her robes as she went. She burst into a grin. She was elated. She couldn't remember having ever felt so low, or so high. And in the same hour! The chamber's sunbeams had never seemed brighter. The dust sparkled magnificently.

As she passed the lion guards, one of them snickered, swishing his tail. "Hey Gilda. Nice skull. Real thick."

Twistbeak turned sharply. "Stuff it, creep." All her former subservience, all her recent giddiness, were instantly replaced with her customary attitude.

The guard took an involuntary step backwards. "S...sorry Gil-."

"-No. You call me Twistbeak. I'm a gryphon. I have audiences with the king. You're a lion. You wear a bucket on your head.  So it's Twistbeak. Got it?" She stepped closer, putting her face right in his. It was so much nicer to be on this end of the intimidation. "Got. It?"

He gulped. "Yes, Twistbeak."

She smirked, raised her head high, then turned and walked down the left hallway towards the staircase. 

She paused, and glanced at her hand. Huh. How about that. Her talons did need sharpening.
> II. Canterlot, Equestria. September, 1251. 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

II. Canterlot, Equestria. September, 1251. 

Twilight Sparkle bit her lip.  Canterlot City was normal enough, but the moment she set hoof on the palace grounds, she felt a wave of nausea. This wasn't right. Nothing was right. They had met the Princess many times, of course, but this--this was clearly different. The atmosphere was usually so quiet, so peaceful, so...steady. But now, Pegasus Guards were swooping all around the palace, into windows, out doors, through hallways, each carrying scrolls or bags. The Unicorn Guards stationed at every doorway looked anxiously in every direction, their steady gaze replaced with a colt's nervous energy.  Twilight turned to look at her friends. None of them had grown up here, but by now they must know enough of the palace to know that something out of the ordinary had happened.

Hm. Applejack was hard to read, as always. Pinkie, well, Twilight didn't even bother trying to read her any more. Dash, though--Dash was watching the pegasi as she walked, her brow furrowed. She knew what it meant when a pony flew in a window instead of walking up a staircase. And Rarit--

--with a dull thud, Twilight walked directly into a Unicorn Guard. Both she and the Guard fell to the floor, the Guard's helmet clattering to the ground. Immediately, she heard an unfamiliar sound, a metal scraping noise--coming from all directions. And wingbeats. And hooves clacking on the ground. And...she blinked her eyes and tried to stand up.

She couldn't. Something was pressing between her shoulderblades. Something sharp. Even her gentle attempt to stand had pierced it into her flesh, and she could feel a trickle of blood beginning to run down her neck. "I...I'm sorry..." she squeaked. "Please...I don't..."

"You can let her go," the unicorn under her said. "It was an accident. I know her, she's a friend of the princess." Nobody moved. "Let her go, soldier," he repeated, "I know we're all on edge, but it was an accident. Now let her go, and let me get the hell up so I can get back to my patrol."

The sharp thing was gone. She stood up, and looked around. Surrounding them were a dozen or so Pegasus Guards, each with a meter-long spear of some sort attached at the shoulder, and each wearing an expression ranging from suspicious to relieved to frustrated. As the unicorn guard stood up, each of the pegasus guards tossed their heads to the left, and with that same strange scraping noise the spears retracted back into their armor. The pegasi each looked around for a second or two, and then began to disperse, fluttering back to their assorted duties.

"Th...th...th..." whimpered Fluttershy. "Th..."

The unicorn tilted his head. "Thank you?"

Fluttershy glanced back over her shoulder. "N..no...I mean...that...I...that was..."

"--she means thank you," Twilight interjected, "and I'm sorry for the trouble. I should have been more careful." She blew some dirt off her shoulder.  "I was told we would meet the Princess now, at--"

"--I know," he interrupted, "and believe me, if I didn't know, you'd be lucky to be having this conversation in a jail cell. Go on, and keep your friends close. Most of us know you, Miss Sparkle, but the same can't be said for your friends.  This courtyard is still open to credentialed visitors, but the palace is in lockdown. Trespassers are kill-on-sight."

"Er, okay. Okay. Okay!" She spat out the words, as if she might hit on one that might keep her safe. "Sure. We'll sure do that. We'll totally do that. Thanks. Um...Bye! Take care! Of course you will. Ha ha. Bye. Ha." 

Twilight stumbled forward, her mouth hanging open, with one hoof signaling the others to follow her. The pegasus-guards thing was fine, a misunderstanding. A big misunderstanding, but a misunderstanding never the less. If she was upset and she saw a strange pony tackle one of her friends she might assume the worst too. But...kill? She had never heard a guard *say* that. Kill? What would make him say--

"...k...kill? Twilight, what's happening? I think that guard...that first..." Fluttershy. Of course. How could she tell Fluttershy to calm down when she didn't even know what was happening?

"I'm not sure, girls, but I am sure Princess Celestia will explain it." Twilight shook her head. "She obviously brought us here to explain whatever it was. Let's...just keep it together until she tells us what's happening." 

Together they walked to the Great Door that marked the entrance to the palace. Twilight stopped, and looked up at the familiar freze: there was Celestia, there was Luna, there were the Elements, there was history. Right. Celestia. And Luna. Celestia had reigned for over a thousand years. Everything had always been fine. Everything would always be fine. What's one more challenge? Whatever it is. Probably nothing. Ha ha. Probably nothing.

She walked forward, up the first few steps, her hooves sinking into the plush red carpeting. She turned to talk to Rarity. "And besides, I'm sure it's all just...girls? Girls?" She was alone. She looked over her shoulder. There, at the gate before the door, were the other five.

"C'mon, girls," she called, trying to sound impatient. "The Princess is waiting for us."

No response.

She turned and walked back down the stairs. All five looked around nervously. Dash pawed at the ground. 

Fluttershy looked aside. She half-whispered, "Twilight, I think...I think that guard...he was going to k-kill you if the other one didn't..."

Twilight began, "Look, he wasn't going to kill me. It was all a big misunderstanding. I get that--"

"--no," Dash said, "no. You don't understand, or you wouldn't be acting like everything's fine. Fluttershy's right. They were going to kill you, Twilight. They were. He had his lance aimed at your heart. The others had theirs trained on us. We were seconds from being killed. Seconds. And we couldn't have done a thing about it."

Fluttershy sucked a strand of hair into her mouth. "I...at flight school, Twilight. They taught us how to use those lances. Not much.  No. No. Just one day. They just told us what they were. How to put them on. That ponies had used them a long time ago. When...um...bad things happened. When--"

Dash interrupted. "She means it's a weapon, Twilight. A weapon of war. And we only use them when we're at war. Against enemies. Do you get it, Twilight? They thought you were an enemy.  They would have killed you."

Rarity stepped forward. "Hold on! Your story makes absolutely no sense, Dash dear. You're just a bit rattled in the head. We all are, it's fine. After all, it was frightening, they way they manhandled poor Twilight. But Dashie, darling, Twilight isn't an enemy. Why, we're not even at war. Why would they think they were at war with Twilight? I admit I was a bit shaken by the whole affair as well, but--"

"RARITY!" Dash said, her voice strained. "No! That's exactly what I'm saying! We ARE at war! With somebody! I don't know who, but there's no other reason to have a lance. None."

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't want to be at war," Fluttershy whispered, to nobody. "I don't want to wear a lance."

"We're not at war," Twilight said. "Or maybe we are. I don't know. And maybe he was going to have killed me, and maybe he wasn't! None of us know. None of us are guards, none of us have spoken to the Princess, none of us know ANYTHING about ANYTHING, and we won't know anything until we get in there and find out! Applejack, please, help me out here."

Applejack breathed in deeply, puffed out her cheeks, then looked Twilight in the eye. "Look here. I don't know what kind of mess we're in. But I don't like hearing a pony talk about killin' a pony, and I don't want to walk through that door. I will, because I know I should. But you gotta admit, what that guard said don't make a pony feel too comfortable wanderin' around that palace."

"No! Girls, knock it off! Everything is going to be--" Twilight looked down. She said softly, "Please. I don't know what's happening. But I know that we need to face it. The Princess is counting on us. And I'm counting on you. I need you to come in with me. Because whatever is happening, we can handle it together. We can only handle it together. Please."

The ponies looked at each other. Rarity spoke.

"Twilight, of course we'll come with you. None of us would dream of staying behind. But shouldn't we first talk about--"

"No, Rarity, she's right," Applejack said, "We don't know anything. The only thing we can get by talkin' now, is get ourselves scared. Let's go."

Another pause. Somewhere, a bird squawked. Dash nodded, and the ponies followed in suit. They walked into the hallway--long and dark. Darker then Twilight remembered. Maybe it was cloudy out? She couldn't remember. She just remembered that piercing sensation in her back, and that...

"Huh!" Pinkie bubbled, "If we're at war, I bet it's the zebras! They're real scary."

"Shut it, Pinkie," Applejack muttered.

"Ooh, no! The gryphons! They're real mean. RAAARGH! Or the dragons! Wow! What if it's dragons? Do they even have a country? What if they had a country! Oh my gosh, guys--"

"Pinkie!" Dash whisper-shouted. "Stop it!"

"--guys, what if--what if the DRAGONS had a COUNTRY and they were invading the ZEBRAS and then we were helping them out, I mean the zebras 'cause they have hooves too, and then what if the gryphons helped out the dragons 'cause they have wings and OH MY GOSH--"

"PINKIE!" Twilight shouted.  Her voice echoed through the corridor. The ponies stopped, dead silent.

"Shh!" Pinkie whispered. "Quiet, Twilight! The guards are real cranky today! Anyway, so the gryphons and dragons are wing buddies, but Dashie has wings! So does Fluttershy but she like never uses them, such a waste! I would fly all the time if I had her wings. I could surprise everybody! Ha ha that would be great! So anyway, hey--Dashie, wouldn't you want to help out the dragons and gryphons? I mean they have wings, and the zebras just have hooves, and you like your wings more than your hooves right?!"

Dash rolled her eyes and started walking forward. The rest followed. "Look, Pinkie. Obviously I like my wings. I'm a pegasus. But if Equestria was under attack, of course I'd defend it. It's my home. It's our home."

"Noooo," Pinkie laughed, "the ZEBRAS are under attack! Weren't you listening?"

"Nopony is under attack," Applejack said. "Let's go!"

Five ponies walked forward, in uneasy silence, following the long shadows cast by the light streaming through the Great Door.

Pinkie hung back. She looked at her shadow. Her eyes narrowed. She bit her lip. "I...Yeah! Nopony is under attack!" She trotted forward to catch up with the rest.



-----------



The Hall of Heroes was splendid as always. Here the stained-glass windows looked silently down on you. Thousands of years of history, inspiring and reassuring. Equestria had been through so much. Equestria had done so much. Celestia had done so much. I have done so much, Twilight realized with a shock. I'm...I'm up there. Twice. More than anypony but Celestia and Luna. Twice. And so are my friends. I'm...I'm historic?  History was something she read. History was something in a book, dry and musty and rough on the skin of your nose. Not something you could touch, someone with fur and warm breath, someone who laughed when she drank chocolate milk, or who cried if you didn't like her dresses. She understood that she and her friends bore the Elements, yes, but she tried to keep it all out of her head most of the time. It didn't make sense.

It was all hard to ignore in the Hall of Heroes.

Celestia sat at a long table set up in the middle of the hall. Luna was there too, and some guards, and some old unicorns she didn't know. There were scrolls and maps and all sorts of things she had never seen before. Pegasi were swooping in and clattering out, giving scrolls to some of the old unicorns and taking scrolls from others.

Twilight cleared her throat. "Princess!" she called out, loudly but respectfully. Celestia looked up from the table. Twilight and her friends bowed gracefully. Celestia looked back down at the table.

The ponies looked at each other. Rarity shrugged. Applejack cleared her throat. Twilight shushed her, and tried again. "Princess!"

Celestia stood up. "I heard you," she snapped. "If you want to talk then come over and talk. We don't have time for formalities." She sat down and went back to studying a scroll.

The ponies walked over, cautiously. They had seen hints of this side of her, yes--when Discord returned, for one. They could tell she wanted to *do* something, that she burned with a frustrated energy. But when Discord returned, she was helpless. Now, they saw a new Princess. 

Twilight was first to speak. "Princess, we have come."

"I can see that," she said offhandedly, writing on a parchment. "To offer your services, I imagine? We'll have need of the elements, of course, but it won't be that simple. War changes a pony. If I just sent you to the front you'd be broken within a day. And I can't afford that. No, we'll have to--"

"--princess?" Twilight said. She had been trying to interrupt from the first word, but only now had worked up the courage. "What is going on?"

Celestia stopped writing, and looked straight ahead. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she looked at the ponies and smiled. Her voice softened to its customary lilt. "Oh, I am so sorry. Welcome, each of you. Twilight, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy. I am so sorry for my rudeness. Welcome to Canterlot. There is much to discuss." She turned to the table, and resumed her brusque manner. "Ponies, please forgive me, this is a crucial matter. If anything urgent comes up in the next few minutes, I would remind you that my sister is of equal rank and authority to myself." She let that last remark hang in the air. Luna smiled smugly at one of the generals, who responded by looking down sheepishly.

Celestia stood, and walked down the hall with the ponies. She was again a beacon of gentleness. "I am afraid that something terrible has happened."

Rainbow Dash interjected, "War! I knew it! We're at war! With who? We'll beat 'em! I know we'll beat 'em!"

Celestia shook her head. "We are at war, yes. The Kingdom of the Gryphons has invaded. They are not responding to our messages. We cannot reach our ambassador. Our pegasus couriers are being intercepted and imprisoned. We hope they're being imprisoned, that is. They have fielded an army of tens of thousands of lions and thousands of gyphons. We don't know how many, exactly, but we do know they're moving quickly."

Fluttershy looked at the ground. "I...don't want to be at war. I don't want to wear a lance..."

Celestia continued. "We do not have an army. Though it must have taken them months to have built up their forces, our intelligence reports saw nothing from their lands. They simply appeared in our lands. We don't know where they're headed, but right now it doesn't matter. We couldn't stop them even if we knew their objectives."

Dash scoffed. "What do you mean we couldn't stop 'em? Let's just march out there and beat them down! I can fly rings around any gryphon! So could any pegasus!"

Celestia looked down. She looked sad. Heartbroken, even. "Rainbow Dash. Please listen to me. We do not have an army."

Dash looked at Applejack.

"What we have, Rainbow Dash, is a nation of farmers. We are a sturdy people. We are a magical people. We are a brave people. But war requires discipline. It requires leadership. It requires generals who can outmaneuver the enemy. It requires officers who can take the initiative while still obeying orders. It needs soldiers who will fight, and who will die, even when it looks to them that their deaths will be in vain--because they trust that their generals have a plan that will win. If I were to simply march a rabble of ponies against their army, I would be sending them to be slaughtered. We must train. We must raise an army. We must avoid giving battle. That is what we must do."

Applejack shook her head. "But Princess, they already have an army, don't they? It's in Equestria now, ain't it? So what are we doin'--just askin' 'em to sit tight and wait while we whip up somethin' to beat 'em?"

"They can advance as far as they like," Celestia said, "but they cannot hold what they have taken. Ponies will never accept being conquered. For now, we trade land for time. And we rely on the militias to slow the gryphons down. When we have an army, we will fight them head-to-head. But for now, we must let them operate freely in the countryside."

"LET 'EM WHAT?" Applejack shouted. "Wait, no, I'm sorry, your highness, but this is a war--"

"--as I am quite aware--" Celestia interjected.

"--and if we just let 'em advance and operate and whatever militaryin' words you're usin', you're sayin' they can just have Equestria. It's theirs now. They want some apples, we'll just hand 'em over. That's it? We just give up because maybe we can fight 'em later?"

"No, Applejack. They will not be given food by anyone. As I said, no pony will accept being conquered. If they want food, they must take it. And we will resist."

Rainbow Dash looked up, her eyes wide. "But, Princess. Farmers don't have weapons. And there are a bunch of gryphons and a bunch of lions. You said so. If the farmers don't give them food, the gryphons will just...kill them and take it. Won't they?"

"Yes." Celestia said. The ponies waited for her to continue. She did not.

"...Princess?" Twilight asked.

"But they cannot do that forever. If they kill a farmer, his neighbors and his family will take up arms. They will band into militias. Those militias will attack gryphon foraging parties. They will attack supply wagons. The gryphons will not be able to feed themselves. They will become angry. They will burn farms to punish the farmers. Then there will be no food for them. The gryphons will have to move on, and go elsewhere."

Applejack looked at the princess. Twilight had never seen the farm pony look so hopeless. "But, Princess. They'll die. The farmers will, I mean. They'll starve. All of 'em."

"They'll move on. They'll follow the gryphons, to the next area. Where the farmers will be banding into militias, too. When the farmers from the first area combine with the farmers from the second, then there will be twice as many ponies to resist the invaders."

"But what of the foals? And the old ponies! They can't fight!"

"They must flee. And flee now."

"There won't be enough food for everypony!"

"There won't, no. It will be a time of great suffering. Terrible suffering. That is why I have always worked to prevent war. That is why, despite our strength, we have never started a war."

"And what happens when the entire country is burnt to the ground?"



Celestia stood silent. Then she said, quietly, "I sincerely hope our army is capable of challenging them before that time."

There was silence. A very, very long silence.  One of the old unicorns eventually came over, and presented a scroll to Celestia. She muttered something to him, and he walked back to the table.

Celestia stared at each of them in turn. Something kindled within her. Her eyes flared with a determination they had never before seen. Her head was raised, proud and defiant. Her mane flowed majestically. She embodied royalty. It was impossible to meet her gaze. 



"Ponies!" she said, her steel wind of a voice echoing through the room, as if it echoed throughout all Equestria, "This is the greatest challenge you will ever face. You will each have a role, critical and unique. You wield the elements of harmony, and you have been tested, but war is different. War is cruel, in a way you cannot imagine. You will make friends and watch them die--possibly by carrying out orders you yourselves gave them. You will promise innocent ponies that you will protect them, and you will see them murdered in front of you. You will see foals starve, and you will not be able to give them food, because that food must be used to keep alive the soldiers who will protect hundreds more. You will be given responsibilities no pony can bear. You will be asked to do things no pony can do. The virtues you embody will be challenged in ways you could not possibly imagine."

Twilight heard Fluttershy whimpering. Then she realized, with a sick feeling, that she was the one whimpering.

"This war will present each of you with a challenge you cannot expect. You must meet it bravely, because it will test who you are as a pony. It will redefine who you are as a pony.  It will change you. If you are not careful, it will destroy you.  

"But you will survive, because that is what ponies do. We survive. No matter the odds. No matter the pain we must endure. No matter the indignities, no matter the costs, no matter how cruel the enemy, no matter how harsh the rain or hot the sun, no matter how heavy the saddle or how painful the lash on our backs! They will kick us down, and we will rise. They will kick us down again, and they will spit in our faces, and we will rise. They will kick us and beat us until we are broken, and yet. We. Will. Rise. We will rise again, and again, and again. We will rise from fields soaked with the blood of our dead. We will rise from the ashes of charred farmlands where nothing grows but hunger and disease. We will rise from the rubble of desolate towns stripped to their foundations. We will rise from the shattered bones of cities where none can live. We will rise, stronger each time, impervious to pain, impervious to sense, impervious to doubt. We will rise. We will rise. And we will rise until we win. Because we are ponies. And we will survive.

"From this moment on, you are commissioned officers in the New Equestrian Army. Congratulations, Lieutenants. You may return to your homes tonight. Do not inform anyone of anything; the first and most important rule for any officer is to keep secrets secret. Tomorrow, every town and village will be informed of the invasion, and be issued evacuation orders. Militia organizers have already been dispatched; they will begin working tomorrow as well. In two days, you are to report to the courtyard at Canterlot, where you will receive a uniform and your first orders.  I wish I could give you something else, but I have no more assurances to give. Nor do I have any time to give. I will see you again, Lieutenants. Dismissed."

Twilight looked around. Rainbow Dash was saluting, her hoof trembling. So were Fluttershy and Applejack. Rarity just stared into the distance, her eyes wider than Twilight had ever seen. Pinkie looked confused. Twilight looked back at the princess, and then saluted, too.

Celestia saluted in return, turned, and walked back to the table.

The ponies stayed silent. One second passed. Two. Three. Rarity fainted. Twilight retched.

Pinkie sat down, and looked up at the stained-glass windows. "Huh," she said. "I felt kinda weird when I woke up this morning, but..." she trailed off.

She looked around. Her eyes welled up. Then she slammed them shut, shook her head back and forth, and stopped. Her pink face popped into a smile.

"...boy, I sure didn't expect this!"
> III. Ponyville, Equestria. September, 1251.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

III. Ponyville, Equestria. September, 1251.

Mayor Mare had been in office a long time. She had seen her share of crises. Poor harvests. Botched seasonal preparations. Swarms of who-knows-whats, and giant monsters scaring the townsfolk, and what have you. She was seasoned, for sure. She liked to think that by now, she just knew how to deal with a problem. But this? This was an entirely new kind of problem. This was a problem she had never faced before. This was a problem that was stretching her considerable patience.

Her problem was that nopony would shut up and listen.

She couldn't even pick out anypony's complaints from the crowd. She couldn't tell what anypony, anywhere was saying. It was just one noise: a churning, rolling, panicky, endless noise. It drowned out everything she said. It drowned out everything she shouted. So she gave up. She just stood at the podium, waiting. They'd shut up eventually. They'd wear themselves out. And then they could actually have this meeting.

The helmeted pegasus beside her nudged her shoulder. She glanced at him. He whispered something. Well, maybe he did. His lips were moving, at any rate. She looked back quizzically, and pointed to her ears with a hoof. He sighed, and looked back at the crowd. So did she.

They hadn't gotten ten minutes into the meeting. It started all right: a reading of the princesses' Joint Proclamation of War. They stayed stone silent for that. Then the helmeted pegasus announced that militas were to be raised. They were fine for that, too, surprisingly enough. Then came the order that all foals and elders were to be evacuated to the Southmarch. And that must have been when they finally woke up, because that's when they started shouting.  And they've been shouting since. Mayor Mare looked out at the town. Nope. Still shouting. This might go on a while.

Then, suddenly, a whistle. A piercing whistle, high and sharp and loud and long, coming from the rear of the crowd. It split the crowd noise. And it kept on going. One by one, the ponies fell silent and looked back to find the source of this interruption.

It was a tall pony, red and strong. Big Macintosh. He took his hoof from his mouth, and stood up as tall as he could. He spoke in a soft drawl. And though he was quiet, ponies listened. "Shucks, I seen chickens in a thunderstorm with more sense than y'all. So y'all got somethin' to say. So do yer neighbors. And hundreds a' ponies shoutin' and only one pony listenin'? That don't add up, do it?" He shook his head, his mane fluttering in the crisp breeze. "When it's time for the cows to get in the barn, they don't all try to jam in at once, because if two cows try to go through the door at once, well, they just won't fit. So they do it one at a time. Let's be sensible like a cow. We all sit nice and quiet. We let the pretty mayor finish what she has to say. Then, if we got somethin' to say, we take turns and say it. One at a time. Like a cow goin' into a barn." He sat down. The crowd turned to face the mayor. Somewhere in the crowd, a mare began to shout again, but ponies near her shushed her down.

The mayor sighed happily. Every town should have an Apple Family. "Thank you, Big Macintosh--" she said.

"--'welcome--" a quiet voice from the back replied.

"--for that. Yes. As I was saying, foals and elders must evacuate. We are the closest farming town to Canterlot, and our friends in the Guard think it is likely that the gryphon army will attempt to besiege the palace. When they come--if they come--the ponies who need our protection the most simply cannot be here. The Southmarch will remain safe for the time being. Their fields are fertile and they have agreed to host our refugees. We will not forcibly split up any family, but Celestia herself asks that anypony without foal remain in the town, and that only one adult member per family evacuate with their foal. It is the duty of everypony who is able to stay and protect Ponyville.  We will begin preparations for evacuation as soon as this meeting is over. You may take whatever you desire, but our cart space is limited. Anything beyond blankets, food, and one memento per household must be carried by yourselves, in a cart you yourself must pull. And keep in mind that this may not be the only evacuation you will undergo. Understand that you may lose anything you leave behind, but understand that anything you take will be your responsibility for the entirety of what may end up being a very long, very tiring journey."

There was a brief silence. The Mayor continued. "I am sure you have many questions. I would like to open the floor to discussion, one at a time. Please come up to the podium one at a time, and make your statement. The Guard here or myself will answer."

A purplish Earth pony with a ruddy mane and ruddier cheeks stood up, unsteadily. She looked back at Macintosh, and mouthed something. He nodded, and the purple pony stumbled forward towards the podium. She leaned up against it, looked across the crowd, and laughed joylessly.

"Why?" she said, half-slurring her words. "Why are we supposed to stay and fight? Fight with what? With what? We're just gonna....gonna kick 'em? Or somethin'? I can't kick a gryphon, man. They fly and soar and all sortsa shit. And man they got beaks and knives and they're real bitches. Even the guys. No man. No way in hell. I'm not sendin' my little Pinchy to walk around God knows where with her deadbeat father so I can be here when the gryphons come knockin'. Eff that noise, man. Pinchy and me are goin', even if we gotta walk till we see zebras. Peace." She wobbled away from the podium, tripping over her hooves occasionally.

The mayor shook her head disapprovingly. Crisis or not, it was far too early in the morning for Berry Punch to be in such a state. And she certainly didn't like starting off the discussion on that kind of note. A discussion of logistics would be so much more productive. 

She motioned to the helmeted pegasus, who took the floor. "Ahem. We understand that you must consider your own interests to be imperative, but we beseech each of you to also consider that there are greater duties to fulfill." He spoke in a clipped monotone that only frustrated the Mayor. She spent her career learning how to connect with ponies. This certainly wasn't--oh, but he was still speaking. "The present crisis is certainly most disturbing, but the strategy we have analyzed as being most effacious in terms of diminishing the ability of the gryphonic army to maintain a secure logistical situation is a policy of decentralized resistance at the local level. This will enable the Crown to prepare a conventional methodology of directly challenging the invader through force of arms, finally expelling them from our beloved homeland. Now that your concerns are laid to rest, I would like to begin explaining how we will implement a policy of discipline and training for your town's nascent militia--"

The Mayor gently pushed him aside, as he snorted in irritation. "Er, thank you, Captain. As he said, the best hope of protecting our homes is for everybody to join in. We can't make you, but we can't fight the gryphons if everyone leaves. Next, please."

A green unicorn stood up on her hind hooves, waving her front hoof excitedly. The mayor pointed at her, then stepped aside. The unicorn came bounding up, then stood at the podium. "Hi! Hey honey, look, I'm at the podium, isn't that *nuts?* Ha. Oh man. Anyway. So we're supposed to stay and fight, right? But..." she rolled her tongue in her mouth as she considered her words. "They're not gonna be nice to us if we do that. I mean, this is a war, right? They'll hurt us, right? And..." she paused to consider the right word, her countenance growing more and more disturbed. "kill us, right? They'll kill us. Ponies get killed in war. I don't want to get killed. I don't want anypony to get killed." She looked at a pony in the crowd, by where she had been standing moments ago. "I don't want anypony to get killed. We should go. Away. Where it's peaceful, like it is now. There isn't war everywhere, is there? There's just war here. So no. We need to go. Because nopony should be killed. Especially...yeah. Nopony." She walked back, her hooves dragging a bit. The mayor watched her, as she returned to the tan pony with a blue-and-pink mane she had been talking to. They rested their heads on each others' shoulders.

"This is hopeless," the helmeted pegasus said to the mayor in a low tone. "I came here to give orders. I gave them. If your ponies just want to whimper about how they don't want there to be a war, I can't help them. I told them what they need to know, and they're still whimpering like fillies who broke a window playing ball. I have to talk to five towns and eight villages today. I can't afford to listen to any more whining. The militia training guide is in your office. If any of your ponies come to their damned senses, let them read it. Seeing as they don't listen to reason, I don't see any point in explaining it to them myself." And before the mayor could respond, he turned and walked offstage.

Mayor Mare sighed, and returned to the podium. This might be a long meeting.



In the crowd, a blonde-and-grey unicorn filly talked to her pegasus mother. "But, momma. What are they talking about? Why is everypony so upset? What's happening?"

"Well, muffin," her mother replied, looking fondly at her daughter with her good eye. We're going. Bad people are coming. Mean people who want to hurt us. We're going where it's safe." 

"Oh," the filly said, nuzzling close to her mother. "I understand. Mean people. Like the ponies who were mean to you when you were a filly. Because of your special eyes."

The mother looked down, sadly. "No, muffin. Worse than them. These are very, very mean people."

Dinky looked up. "But, momma. Didn't the mean ponies hurt you? They did mean things to you."

Derpy smiled sadly. "Sweetheart. They bullied me, just like those girls at school bullied you. They only wanted to hurt me a little to make themselves feel better. These people are worse. They want to really hurt us, really badly."

Dinky wouldn't be dissuaded. "No, momma, it is the same. Because you left Cloudsdale because of the mean ponies, and then you came here to Ponyville where ponies were nice and you met daddy and had me and it was the best thing you ever did!"

Derpy ruffled her daughter's hair. "Yes, Dinky. It was the best thing I ever did."

And she thought, No, Dinky. The ponies weren't nice here, either. They were even crueller, actually. At least in Cloudsdale, I could fit in by flying well, even if the colts would tease me and kick me and bite me later. In Ponyville I was even more of a freak. Problems just follow you when you run.

She looked up at the podium. Somepony else was talking about how everypony should run away. She looked at Dinky, who was drawing something in the dust. And she looked back at the podium, and back at Dinky. Moving to Ponyville was good for her, but not because running away had worked.  It was because she learned that running away didn't work. Ever. It was because she realized she was either going to be a punching bag, or be a pony, and if she wanted to be a pony she'd have to make it clear that she wasn't going to be treated like a punching bag any more.

She looked at Dinky. She was so young. So beautiful. So smart. But so young. So helpless. She pictured her daughter thirty pounds lighter, her skin barely covering her ribs. She pictured her exhausted, thirsty, choking on clouds of dust on a crowded road hundreds of miles from home. She pictured her...no. She couldn't picture that. She wouldn't.

She looked back at the podium. And she felt something she hadn't felt in a very, very long time. She felt anger. Not irritation, like she had felt when that blue showpony had been making fun of Ponyville. No. She felt anger. Hot, trembling anger. The anger of a filly who wouldn't be called "stupideyes" any more. The anger of a mother who wouldn't let her daughter be sentenced to suffering or worse by a bunch of grown-up foals who never had to learn how to protect what they loved. She felt anger, and she wasn't going to sit here and feel it by herself. She turned to Dinky, and whispered, "Muffin, Mommy is going to go up and talk. She is going to sound very angry. She is not angry at you. She is angry because these ponies are not going to protect you, and she loves you too much to let them do that. Don't be upset, please."

Dinky looked up and smiled broadly. "Okay momma. I love you too. Do a good job!" Derpy smiled back, tears in her crossed eyes. And then she wiped her eyes clean, and then she stood up.

She stood up, and began walking towards the podium. Nopony had called on her. Somepony was still speaking, in fact--Cloudkicker, it looked like. Derpy didn't know what Cloudkicker was saying. She didn't particularly care. Cloudkicker looked over at Derpy, then fell silent. Wait, what was she doing coming up? Derpy almost never spoke. Derpy barely even speaks to me on her mail route, and we're friends. In her surprise, she stepped back. Derpy confidently took her place. She squinted her eyes; the podium faced east and it was still morning. Her vision blurred and then re-settled as she looked through her other eye, and then back to her good one. She paused a second, then threw away her doubts. Sure, she didn't know what she was going to say to them, but by God she was going to say it anyway.

A voice came from somewhere in the crowd.  "Hey, Derpy wants to talk. This should be good! I bet she'll say we should give the gryphons muffins!" A few ponies laughed.

Derpy pawed the ground and snorted. No. No more jokes. No more jokes, ever. They were going to listen to her now. And they were going to do what she said. She began.


"I've heard a lot of things from a lot of ponies just now. A lot of things that I would expect out of foals. I heard ponies say, 'we never asked for this war.' I heard them say, 'we only want to live in peace.' I heard them say, 'let others fight while we run and find peace.' Yes. I've heard many, many things." She gestured at some ponies in the crowd as she talked. Her voice was firm. It carried disdain. It carried...command? She could barely believe herself. She had never talked like this. She paused to assess the crowd. Nopony spoke. Good.

"Hmph. Guess what? I never asked for this eye." She pointed to her left eye, which was currently pointed at a cloud. "I never asked to be scorned for it. I never asked to be an outcast everywhere I went. No. I only wanted to live in peace. I wanted to live in the peace ponies should live in. The peace every pony deserves. And believe me, to find that peace, I was willing to run. From my family, from my home. I wasn't born here in Ponyville, no, I was born in Cloudsdale. But I ran away from the ponies there who made my life a living torment. And it was a torment. In Cloudsdale I was beaten. I was kicked. I was mocked. So I ran. I ran here, to Ponyville."

They were still quiet. They weren't even moving. Derpy felt a charge of energy. This was a side of her she hadn't shown any of them. Not in years. 

"But I still had this eye. And I learned that I could run from a pony, but I couldn't run from my eye. Ponies here were just as cruel. I learned that I had to learn to fight. It was hard. It was painful. But I only had to fight one time. Just once. And when I did, fifteen years of torment were over. In a day."  It was strange. They were just words to her. Just words she thought and felt every day, said plainly. But the crowd hung on them. She could feel them listening.

She walked away from the podium, pacing slowly, still talking. "When I came here, I learned you can't run from what fate's given you. Fate gave me this eye. And fate? Fate gave us this war. Run to the Southmarch, and you'll still have this war. Run to the Southwest Desert, and you'll still have this war. Run all you like, from here until you drop of exhaustion, and you will still have this war." She spoke sharply. She knew she sounded like she was nearly hysterical, but she had never felt more in control. And still they listened. 

"Run from the gryphons now, and that's what we'll be. Runners. Nothing more. And runners never...stop...running. Run and there will be no peace. Run and there will be no safety. There will only be running, from now until the day your children drop dead in a dusty ditch. There will only be running, from now until the day you die broken and bleeding. There will only be running. There will never be peace. Do you want peace?" She let the question hang. "If yes, then face this war. Accept this war. Steel yourself to suffering. Steel yourself to hardship. Steel yourselves to death, because the gryphons will not relent unless you force them. I ask you again, do you want peace?" A few ponies nodded. 

"Then follow me. Train with me. March with me. Fight with me, because peace cannot be won except through our will and our hooves. I ask you again, do you want peace?"  Some ponies were standing. "If you want peace, there is only one way to get it. You must earn it. You must earn it with your sweat and with your tears and even with your blood. You must earn it. Ponies! Follow me, and I promise you, we will earn it!  I ask you again, do you want peace?" She was shouting. Ponies were standing, nodding, absorbing every word. She could feel them absorbing her words, her emotions. "Ponies! Do you want peace? Then follow me! Fight for it! Fight to protect your homes. Fight to protect your foals! Fight for Ponyville. Fight for Equestria! Fight like you'll die if you don't. Fight with me! Fight with me! Ponies! Fight! With! Me!"


She stopped, panting. The crowd was on its feet, staring open-mouthed at her. Even the mayor. But there was silence. A long silence. Derpy swallowed uneasily.

Then Carrot Top stepped out of the crowd. She stood up next to Derpy. "I'll fight," she said. "Who else?" There was a pause. Cloudkicker, still standing off to the side on the stage, raised a hoof. "Me too." Bon-bon stepped forward. Lyra followed. They stood up on stage next to Derpy, too. Big Macintosh pushed his way through the crowd. He got on stage. And then the dam burst. The entire crowd began to swarm the stage. Carrot Top nudged Derpy, then gestured nervously at the crowd.

Derpy spoke again, with the same iron voice. "Good. Meet me at..." she glanced at Big Mac. "Sweet Apple Acres. Three hours after the meeting is over. We'll begin preparing then. For now, let's figure out how to keep the foals safe. Mayor?"

Mayor Mare shook off her stupor. Politics was certainly surprising, all right. You never knew what would happen next. She took the podium, and began outlining the provisional plan for evacuation.  This time ponies listened. 



-------------



The office was cluttered with documents. Derpy looked around. Maybe it was always this cluttered? No, the mayor wasn't the type of pony to be disorganized. And most of these were scrolls with the Royal Seal on them. Half were unopened.

"Ms. Hooves, you made quite a speech. I hope you understand what that means." The mayor sat behind her desk, looking quite grave.

"Um, not really, Mayor." She spoke softly again, like usual. "I just told them they needed to fight. They do. We all do, really. We can't run forever. Like I did as a filly."

"You told them to follow you. And they agreed." She adjusted her glasses. "That's important, Ms. Hooves."

"Yeah. I did. I was kind of in the moment. I didn't mean to overstep my authority. If you wanted--"

"--no, Ms. Hooves. This is a war, and I'm an administrator. They rely on me to keep the buildings painted and the roads clean. But Ponyville needs someone they can follow. Follow to hell, Ms. Hooves."

"Oh. Wow. Uh, I don't know if I can do that." Derpy smiled awkwardly.

"You just did. You took a crowd of farmers and artisans who were begging to flee, and you got them to agree to stand and fight an army of gryphons. It'll wear off, though. Any speech does. They're not soldiers. They need someone who can turn them into soldiers."

"I can talk to them whenever you want. I liked doing that. It was different. It felt good."

"You can talk to them whenever you want. You're their leader now. You're it. I'll be heading the refugee train; that's more suited to my skill set. As for you? You have two hundred ponies who now expect that you can teach them to beat a gryphon army. To beat maybe 20,000 lions. Maybe 8,000 gryphons...to beat them with 200 ponies, none of whom have fought except in schoolyards. That's what they expect, Ms. Hooves."

"I...oh dear. Oh no. No, no. No. I'm a mailmare, Mayor. I--"

"--you're a leader, Ms. Hooves. A natural one. You don't know war? Neither do your ponies. But you do know how to inspire them. You'll be able to do even better if you prepare your speeches ahead of time. You know, write them down. You can write, can't you?" Derpy nodded, and pointed to her mailbag, hanging on the coatrack. The mayor smiled and nodded back. "Of course, of course, my apologies. You just never know. But yes, speeches will be worth a lot in the early days. Inspiration comes first. Then discipline."

Derpy looked at all the scrolls on the mayor's desk. "But...I don't know how to make them disciplined. I can deliver mail. I can bake, sort of. And I guess I can give a speech. But that's it!"

"You have a foal, right? Dinky, I believe. She's a lovely young filly. You've raised her quite well, and all by yourself?" The mayor raised an eyebrow.

Derpy smiled broadly. "Oh, she's been wonderful to raise, Mayor. Wonderful. A handful at times, but she has such a sweet heart. And so smart..."

"This militia of yours. They're your foals, for now. There are better ways to think of them, but foals will work for now. You're their mother. You must teach them to be good ponies who stand up for themselves, who get along with their brothers and sisters, and who listen to their mother."

Derpy nodded thoughtfully. The mayor continued, and pushed a book towards Derpy. It was a thick book, bound cheaply. It smelled like wet ink. "Read this, Ms. Hooves. It's the guide that was issued to this town on forming a militia. Read it every day, whenever you can. Start at the beginning. If you have a problem you haven't read about yet, there's an index in the back."

Derpy nodded. The mayor smiled sadly.

"Take care of your militia. Your foals. Feeding them will take work. So will getting from place to place. So will training them. If I've learned anything about leadership, it's to write down everything. Get ponies to help you organize it; it'll be easier if you can dictate to two ponies than if you have to write and file everything yourself. And whenever you have a spare moment, read the book."

Derpy nodded again. The ponies looked at each other for a while, then Derpy stood up. "Thank you, Mayor. I, uh, I need to get to Sweet Apple Acres. I told them I'd meet them there."

"Of course," the mayor said gently. "But what of your own foal? The one you gave birth to. You can't bring her with you."

Derpy nodded sadly. "I've worked it out. Carrot Top will take care of her. Dinky already thinks of her as an aunt anyway, so it won't be too hard on her. I know Carrot said she'd fight with me, but she won't. She'll go with you and take care of Dinky."

The mayor looked empathetic. More than empathetic. As if she was only now feeling a pain she had been setting aside. "All right. I'll take as good care of her as I can. Thank you, Ms. Hooves."

Derpy gently picked up the book in her mouth, and carried it to her mailbag. As she guided it in, the mayor spoke again. "Derpy?"

Derpy nudged the bag close with her nose. She looked back at the mayor. The mayor never called her by her first name. "Yes...um, Margaret?"

Mayor Mare forced a smile. "Never give up, Derpy. Please. Never, ever give up. Promise me. Not as your employer or as your mayor. As a friend and an equal."

Derpy tossed her the bag over her shoulder, just as she did before setting out every morning.

"I promise, Margaret. I promise."

And with that, she walked out the door, and onto the dirt road. It was morning. The air had a chill to it, but the sun was warm. It would be a fine day. She trotted down the path. She had a family to meet.
> IV. Mt. Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. July, 1251.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

IV. Mt. Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. July, 1251.

Twistbeak pranced down the barren hall towards the staircase. War, perhaps? Wouldn't that be something! Man! Crazy. And all because of...well, no not because of her, but...heh, yeah, because of her. Own it, Twistbeak. You're awesome. Not everyone can turn a fact-finding mission into a mobilization for war. Amazing. What would her old friends think of that? Heh. She had sworn never to return to Ponyville after that humiliation, but...ha, circumstances can change. It might be fun to pay Dashie and that damn pink thing a little visit in a few months!  But first...well, first whatever errand the king was sending her on.

She arrived at the staircase. It was dark. She knew that "dark" and "Gryphonic Palace" were words with a long and storied love affair. But usually it was at least possible to tell where one was headed. Or what kind of staircase it was. Or where the stairs were. She tested it with a foot. Hm. A soft stone, whatever it was. And...and there it ended. She reached tentatively for the next step. If there even was a next step. Did it just...no, no, there it was. Quite a step down. Hm. And it's a spiral staircase, but going the wrong way 'round. Well. She had her orders. She began feeling her way blindly down the dark descent.

It was a long staircase. She was beginning to think she had missed an exit or something, that she was climbing all the way down to the valley below, when she realized she had hit the bottom. But yet she was still in perfect darkness. She felt around her. The walls were rough, and uneven, but gave no hint of a door. Not in any direction. The floors, too, were bare. She looked around helplessly, though she could see nothing.  Had she gone down the right staircase? No, this must be right. She searched again, this time examining every square foot, her talons checking every crack and bump for a sign of a handle. Nothing.

She sighed. Great. She had managed to get herself lost in a staircase, of all places. She kicked a wall in frustration.

And it opened. The stone rattled and groaned, as the wall sank into the ground. And there she was, before a long sandstone hallway (or passage, it wasn't quite either), lit by a single torch.

She stepped into the light, blinking, and glanced back over her shoulder. The staircase remained in absolute darkness, rejecting any possibility of illumination. 



"Halt! State your name!" a thin voice called out. She stopped. Nobody was there. She looked around. Nothing. She looked down. Directly beneath her field of vision was the most pathetic-looking gryphon Twistbeak had ever seen. She was small. Runtish. Her feathers were tattered and torn. It looked like someone had been grabbing clumps of them in their beak and just ripping them out. She was thin, dangerously thin. Her eyes looked unfocused. Her fur was dirty. Her beak was chipped. But she had a calm look on her pathetic little face.

Twistbeak shrugged. "My talons need sharpening."

The little guard raised an eyebrow--or tried to, at any rate. She didn't have an eyebrow to raise. "I didn't ask you about your grooming habits, missy. I asked you your name."

Twistbeak looked blankly at her. "My. Talons. Need. Sharpening."

The guard rolled her eyes. "And. I. Asked. You. Your. Name."

Twistbeak glared. "Look, runt. The king told me to come here. He told me to say those words, and those words only. So I'll say them again. My talons need sharpening. My talons need sharpening. My talons need sharpening. I can do this all day, kid."

The guard laughed. It was a weak little laugh. It would inspire pity if she wasn't beginning to get on Twistbeak's nerves. "Of course you can't do this all day! You're fat! You'd fall over asleep if you missed your snacks, wouldn't you?! Ha ha ha. But really. What's your name."

Twistbeak looked back at the staircase. Clearly something was not right here. "Look, kid. Where's the guard. I need--"

"--you're looking at her. And not answering her questions." The little guard bounced back and forth on her paws childishly.

She snapped. "rrrrFINE! My name is Twistbeak! And my--"

The guard interrupted, with a rattle of short sentences. "--I asked you your name. That's not a name. That's silly. You're not taking this seriously at all. I should just send you back. With your embarrassingly dull talons. And you'd go to the king and he'd look at your talons and say--" her voice here dropped to a child's caricature of an angry father "--Twistbeak, you silly-named gryphon, your talons are still dull!"

Twistbeak was indignant. "What, is this a test of some sort? You're testing me, aren't you."

The guard laughed again. "And you haven't even filled out your name on the paper yet!"

Twistbeak drew her head back, with all the poise she could muster. "My name is Twistbeak. That is the name of my father. That is the name of his father. That is the name I took when I entered the service of the Court. That is my name, per the customs of honor. That is what you will call me."

"Nope! You're Gilda," the guard said, as plainly as if she was informing her that she was a gryphon.

"What? Why did you even ask me then?" she spat, her cheeks turning hot.

"To see if you're a liar. And if you follow orders. You are. And you don't. Hee hee. The king told you to say only four words. I told you to say your name. You didn't do either of those! You just did what you wanted! That's dumb." The little gryphon turned, and plucked a feather out of her left wing. She then looked back up at the bigger gryphon. "Bye bye!"

Twistbeak's eye twitched. No. This little runt was not going to treat her like this. Not her. Not today. With her right hand, she grabbed the tattered little gryphon around the neck. It was time to put her in her place.

The little gryphon's expression didn't change one bit. Twistbeak guided her right middle talon into the guard's throat. She spoke with all the ancestral menace she could summon. "Now listen. We're going to start over, you and I. You're going to say 'halt.' I'm going to give you the code phrase. And you're going to take me where I need to be."

The little gryphon laughed. Twistbeak screeched in rage. With her other hand, she swung at the little gryphon's face, talons extended. As expected, her talons dug into flesh. Contrary to expectations, the flesh was her own face. Her right hand was empty. Her left was dug into her own face. And the little gryphon was nowhere.

Twistbeak freed her hand from her face, and looked around hurriedly. Wherever she went, she'd just--

--and the universe was a constellation of lights, blue and red and green and iridescent, shimmering, shining. She floated in space, she fell through time, she was overtaken and consumed by the lights, the lights, the lights, the humming, the buzzing, the one white light, the one light, the torch, there was a torch, and she was on her back, and there was a hallway. She was on her back on a hallway. There was a torch above her. She picked her head up. It was heavy. The room spun. And above her, there stood a small raggedy gryphon. Oh. Right. She tried to pick herself up off the ground. She couldn't. Too dizzy.

"Boy!" a little disembodied voice said. It must have been the little guard's, but it wasn't coming from anywhere in particular. "You're a really bad fighter, Gilda! Probably the worst I've ever seen! And you're fat, and you don't follow orders, and you lie about your name, and you're really easy to make angry. And your talons are really dull, he didn't lie about that! Boy, you must be awesome!"

Gilda shook her head, her eyes closed. "Huh? I don't understand. I don't understand anything anymore."

The guard laughed. "You're probably the worst recruit the king's ever sent us! No, you're definitely the worst! We've never, ever had some out-of-shape scribe in robes with a silly court name! One who couldn't fight or keep a cool head or follow directions or anything! I've never seen someone so poorly cut out for the Talons. Never! Never ever! I could pick a lion off the street and he'd be a better Talon than you--and they don't even have talons! I bet you'll be amazing." She said the last bit like a child talking about a birthday present she might get. Maybe she actually was a child.

Gilda put a hand to her forehead. "Look, kid. You beat me. In every way. I don't know what's going on. I don't know what you did to me, or what you're saying. Just let me know what's happening, please."

"Yes ma'am!" The little guard saluted in a caricature of military efficiency. It would have been cute--endearing even--in other circumstances. "You're Gilda. You're underneath the palace. My name's Frankie. Short for Francesca. 'cause I'm short too. I'm a Talon. You will be too, but I don't understand why yet! You'll be really great, though, because if the king thinks you should be a Talon even though you have absolutely none of the attributes that make a good one, then you must have something else in you that means you'll be able to do stuff none of us can.  He's never wrong, you know."

Gilda sat up. Her head was a bit clearer. "Okay. Frankie. Hi. Yeah. So I'm a Talon, then? That's why he sent me here? Because I'm a Talon now?"

"Nope. You're not a Talon any more than you're a zebra. You will be, though. Ha ha not a zebra, though, don't be silly. Well, no, unless you die. Then you won't be a Talon. But most of the recruits don't die. The king only sends us strong ones. But you're not very strong, so I don't know what he's thinking, but I bet he knows what he's doing anyway. Yep. You'll be fine. Now get up and get moving! You have a lot to learn. Boy, do you have a lot to learn! I'm surprised you can even figure out how to feed yourself. Ha ha, but you clearly have that one down pat! Fatty fat."

Gilda stood, bracing aginst the wall. She was still a bit confused, but at least she could see straight again. She took a step forward. And another. And another. And--huh. She was naked. She looked back. Her robes were in a heap on the floor behind her. She turned to retrieve them.

Frankie said in her little sing-song voice, "Nope. Sorry Gilda. You're not Twistbeak any more. Twistbeak needs robes. Gilda doesn't. But you know that now, right? Twistbeak is dead. Hopefully Gilda won't be!"

Gilda ran a talon along her beak. Okay. Sure. Why not. She thought the robes were stuffy anyway.

The two walked down the hallway together. Gilda thought a bit. She could deal with this, maybe. A Talon. She didn't know what that meant, but if even Twistbeak didn't know what that meant, it was probably pretty awesome. Plus, this kid had just cleaned her clock in a way she didn't even know was possible. It would be pretty sweet to do that to somebody else. And yeah, she was sick of being Twistbeak. She had become a scribe after returning to Gryphonia--as family honor demanded, sigh--but truth be told, she never really liked the lifestyle. She wanted action. Sure, she was good at being a scribe, yeah, but she was good at most things. Well...she thought she was, anyway. Not according to Frankie, it seems, but Frankie's a different story.

She looked down at the little gryphon. "Alright. Sure. So, yeah, Frankie. Couldn't help but notice that you're not exactly the model of grooming yourself. Give it to me straight, doc--am I gonna look like you soon?"

Frankie looked back, confusedly. "Huh? What's wrong with the way I look? My talons are sharp! See?" She held up a claw.

Gilda laughed. "No, kid. Your feathers. Your beak. Everything else."

Frankie's expression didn't change. "Um...I dunno. I don't really bother worrying about that. There's so much more important stuff to think about. As long as your talons are sharp, you're fine! But I guess if you wanna spend your time preening yourself like a pretty little baroness, you can do that too!" She smiled and looked ahead. "We get some free time, you know. You can preen then! And brush your fur, and take bubblebaths and be pretty! Ha ha, a pretty Talon! We've had a few, you know. But they don't stay here. They do other things. I don't know what." 

Gilda looked around. The hallway was longer than it looked. They walked on, Gilda silent, Frankie humming.

Then they reached the end of it. Gilda glanced at Frankie. Frankie nodded impishly. Gilda tapped on the wall in front of them. Frankie jumped up on Gilda's back, then chirped in her ear, "Good luck! I bet you won't die!"

Then she leapt off, and flew back down the hallway--surprisingly fast, given the state of her wings. Gilda looked back at the wall in front of her, and tapped it again. And the floor opened, and Gilda fell.
> V. Sweet Apple Acres, Equestria. October, 1251.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

V. Sweet Apple Acres, Equestria. October, 1251.


------

THE PURPUSE OF AN ARMY IS TO FORCE THE ENEMY PONY it means gryphon TO DO WHAT YOU WANT HIM TO. WHEN YOUR ENEMY RESISTS YOU, THAT IS WAR. WHEN HE CHALLENGES YOU DIRECTLY, THAT IS A BATTEL. THE ART OF WAR IS NOT THE ART OF BATTELS. THE ART OF WAR IS THE ART OF ENSURING THAT YOU CAN GIVE BATTEL AND THAT YOUR ENEMY CANNOT GIVE BATTEL. WHEN THAT IS THE CASE, YOU CAN FORCE HIM TO DO WHAT YOU WANT, AND THAT IS NOT WAR, THAT IS VICTORY.



ARMIES ARE WALKING CITIES. THE POPALATION OF AN INVADING ARMY MAY WELL BE FIFTY THOUSAND PONIES it means gryphons. AND THAT ARMY NEEDS EVERYTHIGN A CITY DOES AND MORE: FOOD, BLANKETS, AND MEDISINE. BUT THAT ARMY CANNOT TRADE OR FARM. AN ARMY MUST EITHER BE SENT WHAT IT NEEDS OR IT MUST TAKE IT FROM PONIES UNFORTUNATE ENOUF TO BE AROUND IT.



THE GOEL OF LANDGUARD WARFARE IS NOT TOO TO DENY THE ENEMY USE OF HIS PONIES it says ponies but its still gryphons i'm not going to write these notes anymore these scrolls are old okay if it says ponies and it means you then that's right if it says ponies and it means them it should be gryphons AS IN CONVENTIONAL WARFARE. IN CONVENTIONAL WARFARE, THE AIM IS TO RENDER ENEMY PONIES still gryphons i know i said i wasn't going to write any more of these but it's really important you understand that ponies means gryphons when its the bad guys  INCAPABEL OF OPERATING. THIS CAN BE DONE THROU SLAUTTER BUT ALSO THROU MANEUVER. THE BEST WAY TO WIN A CONVENTIONAL BATTLE IS TO RENDER YOUR ENEMY INCAPABLE OF SUPPLYING HIS MEN AND INCAPABLE OF FIGHTING BACK TO A SUPPLY LINE, FORCING HIM TO SURRENDER OR WATCH HIS PONIES MELT AWAY.



IN LANDGUARD WARFARE YOUR GOEL IS SIMILAR. YOU MUST NOT TRY TO FIGHT THE ENEMY PONIES. RATHER, YOUR MILITIA MUST SHADOW THE ENEMY. WHEN YOU CAN, YOU MUST ATTACK ENEMY SUPPLY TRAINS AND WAGONS, KEEPING HIM FROM FEEDING HIS ARMY. WHEN HE SENDS FORRAGING PARTIES TO TAKE SUPPLIES FROM NEARBY PONIES, YOU MUST AMBUSH AND KILL THE FORRAGERS. THIS WILL HAMPER THE ENEMY FROM FEEDING HIS ARMY. IN ORDER TO DO THIS, YOU MUST REMAIN FASTER THAN THE ENEMY; HE MUST NEVER BE ABLE TO FIND YOU AND IF HE FINDS YOU HE MUST NEVER BE ABLE TO CATCH YOU. BUT THIS WILL BE EASY; HE WILL HAVE TENTS AND SUPPLY WAGONS AND ARTILLERY TO DRAG. YOU WILL HAVE ONLY YOURSELVES.



The grey pony lay on her stomach in front of the book, her left hoof covering her left eye. Derpy chewed on a strand of hay as she read. Then she swallowed it, smacked her lips together, and pulled another out of the mattress. The lamplight flickered across the page, making it hard to tell for sure whether the words were horribly smudged or were simply very badly smudged. They were certainly poorly written, though, and that spelling was embarrassing. And it barely made sense: was her goal the same as in conventional warfare or not? Was "landguard" the same thing as a militia? If this book were a letter she'd have wanted to return it as undeliverable.

She sighed. But she wouldn't have. She could still make out what it said, and the mail must go through, even when some other pony is making you squint until you get a headache just because they're too lazy to write coherently. Besides, some poor ponies had to transcribe a copy of this enormous guide for every town in Equestria. They were probably just tired. She yawned. So was she. She lowered her head, just a bit. Her eyes fluttered.

She rattled her head back and forth. No. No sleep. Back to reading. She had been training her ponies here at Sweet Apple Acres for a week, but she still didn't really have much of an idea as to what she was supposed to do with her militia once she had it. She was okay with teaching them drills; it was a bit hard to explain what the book wanted the ponies to do, but she was getting better at figuring it out. There were stumbles, though. It was really embarrassing--really,really embarrassing--when she had to tell them all that all the drill commands she had taught them on the first day were wrong, but they were mostly understanding about it. Well, most of them were mostly understanding. On the other hand, there were a few who were becoming complainers. She wasn't sure what to do about that. The book didn't say. But she knew that if one pony kept grumbling, then soon two would, then soon four would, and it wouldn't be long until everypony was unhappy. 

She looked over at Big Macintosh. There he was, on the other side of the dim barn, asleep on a pile of hay. She made a sad little grunting noise: "Hrrn." She'd understand if ponies were upset if they didn't have food. Nopony liked being hungry. But they had plenty of food. What if they were just becoming upset with her? Maybe they would all decide she was a bad leader. And why wouldn't they? She didn't know how to lead people. She didn't know what she was doing. There's no reason why she should be the leader, and not anypony else. What did she have that made her the Captain? She had a sloppily written book someone gave her, and she could make her voice go really loud. That wasn't leadership. She bit her lip, and cocked her head, still gazing at Mac. Now he. He was a leader. Whenever he talked, ponies paid attention. He didn't have to give fancy speeches. He didn't have to electrify himself like she did. He just said it, and ponies did it. And he always knew the right thing to do.

It had been Mac who had realized that "right, face" must mean for everypony to turn to their own right, not Derpy's. But he hadn't said it aloud. No. He told her quietly, afterwards. And he told her to pretend she had caught the mistake herself.

She looked back at the book. She should start reading again. But the words were so blurry, even though she was still covering her left eye. She tried to make them out: WHEN and the next one was PREPARING and then OF no wait TO no oh no this wasn't working at all. She blinked, and thick tears ran down her cheeks. She nosed the book shut.

She lay her head down, again staring at Mac. His powerful chest swelled and subsided with each steady breath. His face was calm, composed--even in sleep he was in control of himself. He was a stallion in every way. And she? She was an awkward little mailmare, suited to delivering letters and baking muffins for her daughter and oh, Dinky, my God, Dinky, Dinky. If she left now, if she flew as fast as she could, she could catch up to her in a day and a half. Dinky. Dinky. If she had to die, wouldn't it be better to die with her daughter, not a thousand miles away, never knowing if she was even alive to fight for? Wouldn't...oh, Dinky, Dinky. She breathed in sharply. She was crying now, truly crying. She buried her face in her elbow. No. Nopony could hear her cry. Nopony. She wouldn't have any respect left from anypony.

Suddenly, she struck herself in the face, her hoof cracking into her cheekbone. The pain knocked everything else out of her head: the sleep, the remorse, the doubt, everything. She was awake again. Right. Right, Derpy. The book. The Gryphons could come any day, and you need to know what to do when they come. She nosed it open, again, then carefully back to the page she had been on. She just needed to read a few more pages, then she could sleep, and then she could get back to work. She just needed to work. Yeah. Work. If she worked she would be fine. Work was good. Work kept her busy. It was only when she was silent and still that she could be afraid. But she needed sleep if she was going to work. And she couldn't sleep if she didn't know what to do if the gryphons came. And she couldn't read about the gryphons because all she could think about was how completely wrong this was, how wrong that she was the one reading it, how wrong that she was the one responsible for making these decisions, and oh God she was crying again, and not little tears, no she was sobbing and gasping goddamn it Derpy get a fucking hold of yourself Derpy knock it the fuck off Derpy stop acting like a little foal Derpy you are going to ruin everything Derpy stop it stop it stop it stop it captain are you all right?


Wait. That last one wasn't her brain.

She looked up. Big Macintosh was standing next to her, his face tired but concerned. She quickly wiped her face and tried to steady herself. "I'm...ahem. Ahem. I'm--*ss*--fine? I'm fine Mac. *ss-hhuh* Fine. Thanks."

Big Mac held the same expression. "Captain, you've just smeared ink all over your face. You might wanna wash that off before you address us tomorrow in the mornin'. I know bathin' water isn't gonna be easy to come by later on, once we're on the march, but a Captain who's got ink all over her face is a pretty sorry lookin' Captain."

Derpy looked down at her hooves. The ink had indeed worn off the cheap book and all over her hooves and legs. She looked back at the draft pony, her crossed yellow eyes welling again. "I'm sorry. I know. I'm a mess. I shouldn't even be up now. But I can't sleep." She looked away, closing her eyes.

"I...I've got to say this, to somepony. I can't do this, Big Mac. I can't have everypony looking at me for directions all the time. I don't know what I'm doing. About anything. About anything, Mac! Anything! I don't know anything! And ponies are starting to notice, oh, I can't keep up pretending, I can't! I can't...I can't. Please. I can't."

Her voice was a whisper now. "You need to take charge. I can't do this. Please. You have to." She looked back, smiling a bit through the tears. She was looking at him through the left eye, then the right, then the left, trying to figure out which was more convincing. "I can follow you. I can give speeches for you if you want, I know you don't like talking even though everypony always does what you say. I can help. I can give you the book. I can explain the hard parts I've already figured out! Just...you need to. Because I can't. You need to take over."

Mac nodded, frowning.

"I understand, Derpy. Ya know I'll do everythin' I can to help ya. Everythin' I can to make it easy on ya. I'd be Captain tomorrow if it'd help ya." He smiled. Derpy smiled back, uncertainly. "But it won't help ya, so I won't be Captain. A pony I respect a whole load told me recently that ya cain't run from yer fate. That ya either meet it head-on, or it bites ya on th'flank while you're runnin. And when she told me that, she made me believe her. Heck, she made me believe in her. And I know that pony'd tell ya the same thing. Derpy, you're our Captain. We made you our Captain. None o' us woulda bet that woulda happened. Some o' us still cain't believe it happened. But you're our Captain and ya will be 'till, God, I cain't even say till when. And I'll do anythin' ta help ya succeed, because Ponyville needs a Captain, and Ponyville needs that Captain to be you."

He nodded, to himself. And then he turned, and he went back to his bed, and laid down. After a second, he lifted his head, and looked at her. She was still watching him with all her attention. "You'll be fine, Captain," he said. "Now get some sleep already." And he laid down his head, and his eyes closed gently, as if there was nothing in the world to keep them open.

Derpy looked back at her blackened hooves. Mac was right. Like it or not, she was Captain. Mac knew that. And Mac knew how to say it. And, she sighed, that's exactly why Mac should be the Captain. But he wouldn't be. And she knew he wouldn't be. And that...that's another reason why he should be.

She closed the book again, then blew out the light. She didn't even remember laying her head down. She just remembered blowing out the light, and then it was morning.



----------------------------------



Derpy licked her lips, her tongue darting around the quill. So nearly all twenty four hundred thirty rations of hay were accounted for, but only half the seven hundred twenty rations of apples, and none of the hundred fifty rations of carrots. Well, that was why she was starting the rationing while they were still in town and could replenish their stores; now she had a handle on her baseline luxury loss rate. Turns out ponies loved apples and carrots. Who knew? She smiled to herself. Hmm. She'd post a note about the importance of not stealing from the militia in the camp, but some ponies were just thieves. She'd have to start posting full-time guards. She didn't mind if ponies foraged in the fields--that was a good habit to learn, according to the book--but taking from the supply carts would have to be an absolute no-no.

She'd have to find a good guard. Somepony who couldn't be bribed with a carrot or two for herself. Somepony who could not just dissuade, but who could catch a thief, so the thief could be disciplined in front of everypony else. After all, if you punish a filly in front of her sisters, the sisters will know you mean business.

She furrowed her brow, idly perusing the ledgers, checking the figures as she thought. Hm. Big Macintosh would do a good job at that, of course, but she leaned on him to do so much already, and it was better if he did three things wonderfully than five things competently. Anypony could do something competently. Rainbow Dash would be a great security chief, but she had joined the army or something. So had the rest of the celebrity girls. Derpy shook her head. It was nice they were serving, but she wished they had chosen to serve Ponyville. The librarian girl, Twilight--she would make a great aide, especially. Not that Davenport wasn't doing a fine job. But Twilight was special.

Derpy shook her head, and sucked the quill into her mouth. They were all special.  All the celebrity girls. And Rainbow Dash was special too. She was one of the few fillies who wasn't mean to Derpy back in Cloudsdale. She wasn't a friend--she barely talked to her--but she wasn't mean, and sometimes she would even tell the others to stop being so mean. Derpy smiled. She liked Rainbow Dash. She was so happy when she learned that Dash had moved to Ponyville, even though she almost never talked to her. Yes. Dash was a special pony. The Nightmare Moon thing. And the Discord thing. And the dragon thing, and the parasprite thing, and the Sonic Rainboom thing, and the Appleoosa thing, and even the Iron Pony thing. She could do anything. Because she was special.

Derpy looked down at her hooves. Grey. Not particularly special. And a spot of ink had fallen on the left one. She should be careful about that. She rolled the quill around in her mouth. A Captain who's got ink on her face is a pretty sorry looking Captain. She sighed, long and soft. She wished Mac were her aide. Then she could have someone to talk to. If only he could write. 

With her tongue, she pushed the quill back into writing position. No. Lonely could wait. So could scared. So could sad. They could wait until it was dark and nopony needed her. She looked back to the desk to the right. "Davenport," she said. "Come here."

He immediately trotted over, his mane remaining perfectly undisturbed. "Yes, Derpy? You need something?"

Irritation flashed across her face. "Davenport, do you call your mother Derpy?"

"It's not her name, madam," he replied blandly.

Her face became strict. Unyielding. "No. Davenport. I'm your Captain. I might not always be, but I am now. You need to call me Captain. None of us are used to it right now, but it's important that we all understand that there has to be a difference between me and you. There wasn't two weeks ago, and there won't always be, but right now there is. So it's Captain or ma'am, but nothing else."

"Yes, Captain," he said agreeably. "But surely you understand that it is rather silly that you and you alone have such a title. Why," he drew himself up, "I am aide-de-camp to our commander-in-chief, and yet I am accorded the same title and respect as Mademoiselles Lyra and Bon-Bon, whose chief responsibilities, so far as I can perceive, extend to giggling at orders and ignoring curfew."

Derpy thought for a second. "Yes. Ranks are important. Big Mac needs to be able to tell ponies what to do when I'm not there, and we can't rely forever on the fact that ponies like him."

Davenport made a show of holding his tongue. Derpy thought some more, and continued.

"...I don't really know what the ranks are. I picked Captain because it sounds nice. Let me get back to you, and--"

"--I am quite familiar with all customs of all forms of nobility and social hierarchy," Davenport interjected happily,"including the military. Er, ma'am, that is. If you wish, I could assist you in drawing up a system of ranks corresponding to duties and privileges..."

Derpy nodded. "Fine. But nothing is official until I see it and agree to it. And don't tell anyone, okay?"

Davenport gave a single curt nod.

Derpy went on. "Anyway, I called you here about the food supply figures you drew up. They're accurate, you're sure?"

"I have never presided over an accounting imbalance of a single bit at The Quill and Sofa, Captain."

"All right. I need a list of ponies in camp who would make good guards. Alert ponies. Trustworthy ponies. Strong ponies. We're going to need a lot more soon, so make it a big list. Put the better candidates on top and the okay ones on bottom.  Don't put the bad ones on the list..."

Derpy trailed off in thought, then looked over at the circled supply wagons. She screwed up her face. 

"And call in the Cakes, will you? We have access to all sorts of nice things here. I think everypony is getting tired of eating hay and apples. You know, I bet we'd all feel happier if we had a nice muffin now and then!"

Davenport agreed with scarcely contained delight. "Yes, Captain!" He slipped away, quietly and efficiently.

Derpy closed her left eye, and dipped her quill in ink, being careful not to spill any. She then brought the pen gently to the open scroll beside her, and began to write in a careful, flowing script.



PROCLAMATION TO THE MILITIA REGARDING OUR SUPPLIES

CAPTAIN DERPY HOOVES


The essence of war is sacrifice--we have begun to learn that, though there shall be many more such lessons to be endured. And in the face of sacrifice, the spirit by which an army lives or dies is the spirit of fellowship, in which each pony agrees that the welfare of one cannot long survive if the welfare of all is unsound. For this is the fundamental truth of war:


She paused, and rolled the words around in her head. Then she continued writing, carefully, intently.
> VI. Canterlot City, Equestria. October, 1251.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

VI. Canterlot City, Equestria. October, 1251.

The tavern was dark, hot, and noisy. Dozens of officers had crowded in, filling every bit of space a pony could see, and most of the space a pony couldn't. Why, she could barely hear her friends speak. Could hardly see them, too, as stingy as they were being with the candles here--there was a fine line between being responsible with their rations and just being cheap. She took a breath. The air was invigorating, in a way, to a pony used to farm air. It smelled like...activity. Like pony life. The aromas of sweat, of hot food, and of a dozen types of drink mixed freely with the dust wafting in from the street outside. But there was only one scent she was interested in at the moment. She looked down at the mug between her hooves.

The cider was good. Hot, nicely spiced, and mellow. And fresh, too, that was unexpected. She breathed in the steam, deeply. It filled her lungs, and she exhaled, smiling in sensual pleasure. As good as she herself could make, really. Ponyfolk in Canterlot might be a bunch'a overdressed snobs, but they could make good food when they weren't too busy tryin' to impress each other with how expensive they could price it.

She turned and called to the bartender. "Hey, buddy! These Ponyville apples in this here mug?"

"Trotsburg, ma'am," he said, not looking up from the glass he was polishing.

She shook her head slowly. "Shucks," she said, "if they can make a Trotsburg apple taste this good, I guess they're even better cooks here 'n I am."

The other ponies stopped talking. "Uh, Applejack?" Twilight said after a second. "You still with us?"

"Oh, sure, 'course I am. We were just talkin' about how good they made this cider here, right? Darn good."

Rainbow Dash looked incredulous. "No, we were talking about how much we were going to miss eating together like this every meal. And we've been talking about that for the last, oh, fifteen minutes? What's wrong with you, AJ? You're usually so...on the ball."

Applejack contorted her mouth, then let it go back to normal. "Oh, I don't know. I jest don't like thinkin' about it. We barely even got here, we hardly know  the ponies in our platoons, and we don't know a thing we're doin', and we're movin' out already? Shucks, y'know I'll miss eatin' with you gals, but it ain't like we won't see each other. We got bigger problems to talk about. If we're movin' out this soon, the gryphons must be real close. And my ponies can't kick a rock straight to save their lives. That ain't a figure of speech, gals."

Pinkie lifted her snout out of her colorful bowl of soup. "Mhsshm ahah think my girls are doing really great! I mean, they're getting really good at playing that Simon Says March Like This game with me. And the girls love the songs I came up with to sing when we're walking around! And c'mon! Who isn't excited to bittywhack! We'll get to camp wherever we want! Ha ha! And some of 'em--"

"--Uh, Pinkie, the word's bivouac, an' it ain't--" Applejack started to say, though she knew that trying to interrupt Pinkie was like trying to interrupt a thunderstorm.

"--kinda scared of the gryphons but really we aren't going to be fighting them, well we will, but mostly just running around the lions while Applejack and the stallions are fighting them, and then we kick them in the back and they run away! Ha ha ha! I love being lighter fronty!"

Applejack rubbed her temples with her hooves. "The word's light infantry, Pinkie, and you're light because you don't even get to wear armor."

"Well, yu-eah! How can we run around if we gotta wear big dumb metal thingies on us? Dashie doesn't wear armor either, 'cause she's gotta go fast too!"

"Right!" Twilight laughed nervously. "Yes, you two certainly won't be wearing anything 'big' and 'dumb' and 'metal'. No protection at all and you're on the front lines. Yep. We're not worried about that in the slightest, no." She shook her head. Not the time to think about it. "Anyway, my turn now? Yeah. My girls are fine, I guess, but they're all so...bad. I mean, girls, listen. They're really bad. I mean, a shell fires parabolically, right? And the initial magical impulse is precisely controlled, as is the barrel's angle of elevation, as is the weight of the shell. This is simple mathematics here. Any foal could figure out how to hit a target. You could, right?" Nopony said a word. She didn't even pause to let them.

"I could do the math in my sleep." She was breathing heavily, frustration in her voice. "But when I tell 'em to hit a tree 100 meters away, that tree is the safest place in Equestria. And that's after they've spent way too long thinking about it! I don't know what else I can do! I've told them the equations, I've told them the weight of a shell and I've told them the impulse force a magic spark provides. What. Else. Is. There." She gestured with her hooves. "What else is there? Nothing. And they load the cannons slowly, and they're afraid to stick their horns in the ignition chamber just because they heard somepony got theirs blown off yesterday."

"Well, did somepony?" Rarity said, raising an eyebrow.

"...yeah. Okay, yeah, they did," she admitted, a bit carefully. "But they'll be fine. It'll grow back. Look, it's not the point! The point is...oh, I don't even have a point." She lifted a cup of tea to her lips. "We're not ready."

"I know what you mean," Rarity sighed, magically swirling a spoon through her bisque. "We haven't stiched a quarter of the uniforms we're going to need, and everypony is so slow, but so sloppy at the same time! Now, I always tell customers they can have a pretty dress in a week or a boring dress tomorrow, but if my girls worked at the Boutique, I'd be telling them 'a horrific dress two months from now,' and I'd probably be optimistic."

"Oh, that's a problem," Rainbow Dash scoffed. "Your sewing club is really bad. Wow. I'm sorry, I'm a little more concerned about the fact that most of my girls apparently can't tell the difference between flying right above the ground and flying right into the ground. And if a lancer messes that up in the middle of a battle, well, see ya, she's done, bye bye. Mistakes are a little different for a pegasus, Rarity. Some ponies actually have to fight."

Rarity raised her chin. "Well I never! Unicorns have a very important job to do! Just because we aren't as suited to the...roughhousing some other ponies do doesn't mean we don't have to get our hooves dirty. You'll thank us when you're sleeping in a comfortable tent we sewed and we put up, with lovely blankets that we made for you. And you'll be glad to have us when you're eating the food we made, and that we pulled in heavy carts, even though we're not the big strong ones. Hmph! I think somepony should apologize to unicorns!"

Dash just crossed her arms. "The only thing I have to say to most unicorns is sir and ma'am," in sarcastic imitation of respect, "and that's only because everypony apparently thinks they're the best candidates to lead everypony, even though they never have to actually fight anyone up close."

"I understand what you're saying, Dash," said Twilight in a gentle voice. "Maybe it's not fair that our superior officers are all unicorns. But they're the ones who've read about war, and they're the ones who know how to organize an army. I'm sure that as soon as a pegasus or an Earth pony proves herself, she'll be promoted like anyone else would be...or he, I guess. I shouldn't be sexist."

"Yes," Fluttershy nodded, swallowing a mouthful of salad. "it wouldn't be fair otherwise." She stopped. The ponies watched her. She smiled back.

"Are...are ya gonna tell us why your gals ain't ready?" Applejack asked. "Kinda what we're doin' right now."

"Oh, no, my unit is mixed gender. It's okay if we're different sizes and strengths and speeds and all of that. Because it only matters if we're brave and if we care for hurt ponies." Fluttershy nodded proudly, her eyes closed.

"And...and you don't mind the whole bein' brave...thing? You're not gonna have any problems flyin' into a battle and pullin' out a hurt pony while the gryphons and lions are snappin' at ya? I mean, I dont wanna fill your head with those kinda thoughts, but you're usually not so calm 'bout that kinda prospect."

"Oh, no, Applejack," Fluttershy said. "I'm not going to do that at all. I'm not brave like the other ponies are. I'm going to run away as soon as there's a battle, and I'm never going to stop." She still had the same little smile, her voice was still perfectly calm.

"Uh...that's a joke, right?" Applejack looked around the table. The other ponies shrugged.

"No, I'm not joking," Fluttershy said. Still calm. "War is scary and if I go into a battle to get a hurt pony someone would hurt me. And if even they didn't, the pony I healed is just going to go back to get hurt again, or maybe to hurt someone else. So I'm going to run away, because if everyone ran away, then there wouldn't be a war."

The table was silent.

Rainbow Dash stood up, sweeping her hoof across the table. Her empty shot glasses clattered to the ground. "What? No! You can't do that, Fluttershy! What if I got hurt! What if Pinkie Pie was hurt!? Are you saying if Pinkie was hurt, you'd just let her die? That you'd just let all of us die? Is that it? We're your friends as long as it's not scary?"

Pinkie stood too, her face unconventionally serious. "We're friends, Fluttershy. Friends stand up for each other."

Fluttershy looked away, blushing. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything. But I thought you would understand. The lions and gryphons you're going to fight have friends too. I don't want anyone to die. I don't want to be part of this."

Applejack stood up and walked next to Dash, her eyes narrowed slits. "I never took ya for a coward, Fluttershy. Shy, yeah. Nervous, yeah. Cautious, fearful, and downright terrified o' most things, yeah. But not...not yellow!" She paused, her hoof to her mouth. "All right, not the best wordin', I'm yellow, you're yellow, nothin' wrong with bein' yellow," she said offhandedly, then resumed her air of anger. "But a coward, Fluttershy. Never thought ya were a coward."

Twilight stood up, and slid to the left, so she was next to Dash. "You're part of this, Fluttershy. We all are. You can't run. Because we're friends. Even when...even when we have to do things that we don't like."

Rarity stood up emphatically. "I don't have anything to add. I'm simply expressing solidarity with their outrage. Well...I guess that is something to add. But nothing else!"

Fluttershy looked down. She dragged a hoof in a little circle on the ground. "I'm sorry, girls. I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't right. I'm just nervous."

The others sat back down.

"We're all nervous," said Twilight. "It's okay to be nervous. But we'll all do what we have to do. We're glad you will, too." Rarity nodded, murmuring assent. So did Rainbow Dash.

Fluttershy swallowed hard, and stared at her salad. I told you I shouldn't have said I would run away. She took a small bite and began chewing. I didn't tell you I wouldn't do it.



------------------------



Sweet Apple Acres, Equestria. October, 1251.



Derpy looked up. There was something beautiful in the way Cloudkicker looked: a dark, winged silhouette in the brilliant red-streaked sky. Watching. Protecting. Maybe this was how the legends of guardian angels got started. She shivered a bit, and with her teeth she pulled her thin blanket tighter around her.

The evening chill was settling in, and it was getting easier to make Derpy cold. Part of it, she figured, was that she wasn't getting enough exercise sitting at her desk all day. Part of it was that she was losing weight. She thought a bit. Was it getting colder? No, that couldn't possibly be right; Celestia wouldn't bring on winter in a crisis like this. She thought a bit more. She hoped Dinky and Carrot Top hadn't managed to lose the blankets that she had packed for them. Those were really nice blankets, and it wou--

Suddenly, with a rush of wind, Cloudkicker landed in front of her. "Captain," she barked, saluting.

Derpy saluted back, her hoof getting momentarily caught in the blanket. "Private. Something to report?"

Cloudkicker stifled a laugh--making Derpy wince internally--and then stiffened her expression. "Ma'am. Pillar of smoke rising to the northwest, range well over 50 kilometers." She pointed with her hoof towards a patch of apple trees. "That way."

Derpy furrowed her brows and thought, her tongue barely sticking out of her mouth. "And Skywishes said the Equestrian army has left Canterlot, right? Headed south."

"I wasn't present for that report, ma'am. But that smoke isn't to the south."

Derpy thought a bit more. "And it's far off, right?"

"At least a day, maybe more," Cloudkicker said.

"Thank you, private." Derpy saluted breezily. "Go eat dinner. The Cakes have made you guys a surprise."

"Ooh!" squealed Cloudkicker. "Thanks! ...uh, ma'am!" She bounced off towards the barn.

Derpy turned to her desk, and pulled out some maps. She shut her left eye and began scanning them. Hmm...at fifty kilometers, nothing, unless they were burning the forest there...but they wouldn't do that. No, here we go. That must be Bridleshire, 100 kilometers out. Hm. They must be making quite a mess of the place to cause a smoke pillar Cloudkicker could notice all the way here. She's got sharp eyes, and the sunset would illuminate it, but still. Hm.

She rolled up the maps. Tomorrow they'd move out. Bridleshire could use a helping hand. She stopped. No. She should probably write something first. Thiswould be the beginning of the war for them, and she wanted them to set out feeling comfortable. She'd tell them...hmm, how to word it...


"Hey we're gonna go to war aren't we the gryphons are here oh my gosh that's so AWESOME!" A tiny voice squeaked excitedly behind her. She turned. Oh. Oh, no. Oh no, no, no, no. A small orange filly with purple hair bounced, fluttering her tiny wings. Next to her bounced a little yellow one with a bow, and a little curly-maned white one. "CUTIE MARK RESISTANCE FIGHTERS!" They cheered.

Derpy's mouth hung open. No.

She looked from one, to another, to another, and back to the first, again and again.

"Wow, Cap'n," Applebloom said, "You can size up two of us at once! I bet that's why you're the leader, huh!"

"Noooooo," Scootaloo said, rolling her eyes, "She's obviously leader because she can fly the best, you know, same reason I'm our leader."

"You can't even fly," yelled Sweetie Belle.

"I can too!" Scootaloo shouted back. "I can jump like ten times farther than you can when I use my wings! Same! Thing! And you can't use magic so...so don't say I can't fly!"

Applebloom and Sweetie Belle were both trying to shout over each other to respond. Derpy bit her lip, then stood up, and shouted "LT. APPLE! LT. APPLE I NEED YOU NOW!"

Applebloom immediately perked up. "Hey big brother is here?! Why ain't I seen him?"

Sweetie Belle narrowed her eyes. "'Cause you can't see nothin' when you're all covered in the box in a barn. If you'd cut holes for your eyes like I did you'd see him all the time!"

"Well, I didn't have the cutter thing! If you'd cut holes for me--"

"--eeyup. Lt. Apple, reportin' in," a voice said proudly. The Crusaders all turned to look. "What'dya need, Captain? I--oh. Oh my. Applebloom, what in tarnation are you doin' here? And Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle? Uh, Captain, we can't bring foals with us."

Derpy sighed. "I know, Big Mac, I mean Lieutenant. I know. I didn't know they were here. They were hiding, or something. I don't know. What can we do with them? The caravan is too far away to catch up with. I'd ask for a volunteer to stay back with them and take care of them here, but I'd just be abandoning them to the gryphons if I did that..."

"Well," said Mac, "that's a pickle, ain't it?"

"I can fight," squeaked Applebloom. "I'm a big pony! Tell 'er, big brother! Tell 'er how I can buck a tree all by myself now!"

"No!" Mac said, emphatically. He leaned down to speak directly to her, his eyes daggers. "You're a real strong little filly, Applebloom, but you're a filly. You can't fight. I can't let you. It's why you three were supposed to be evacuated." He looked back at Derpy. "I don't know, Captain. We gotta take 'em with us when we go. Maybe we can work something out before then, I don't know."

Derpy ran a hoof through her mane. "We're leaving tomorrow, Mac--Lieutenant. Tomorrow morning. The gryphons are near." She pointed at the blank parchment on the desk. "I was just about to write the announcement I was going to give later this evening...when these fillies showed up."

Mac looked around. "Could they stay in our camps with the supply carts? I mean, we'll still have guards there, and the ones like Lt. Redheart. The ones who don't fight."

Derpy bit her lip. "It's war, though. What if we get ambushed? They'll get killed!"

Mac shrugged. "They'll get killed if we leave 'em here."

"We can't take all the foals we come across. We need to move light."

He sighed. "I know. We'll come across a lot of foals. We can't be a refugee train."

Derpy looked at them. She looked back to the northwest, towards the apple patch Cloudkicker had pointed at--and towards the unseen army beyond. And she looked at the fillies in front of her. She looked at Applebloom. She looked at Big Mac. And she put her face in her hooves.

"We have to. We have to, Lieutenant. I have to. We're taking them with us. They're the reason we're fighting to save Ponyville. We can't leave them. And if we find more, we'll take them too. And if we pick up enough foals that they slow us down, or that we can't feed them, then we'll break a group off the militia to shepherd them to a safer part of Equestria."

"Could we afford to do that? Turn part of the militia into an evacuation train?" Mac asked.

"Probably not," Derpy sighed, lowering her hooves. "But I can't leave them. And neither can you."

Mac looked at Applebloom, who was happily inspecting a map that Scootaloo had taken off Davenport's desk. 

"Yeah. You're right. I can't, either, tho' I know bringin' her's a plumb stupid idea. All right. I'll find a place for 'em to sleep. Need anythin' else?"

Derpy shook her head. "Just some time to write." She bit her lip, and blushed a bit. "Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Captain," Mac replied evenly.

"I...just wanted to know. If...you would be available again to...you know. Talk. Talk to me. Tonight."

Mac cocked his head. "You need to talk, Captain?"

Derpy felt her cheeks flush red. She tried to smile casually. She missed casually completely, and hit goofily. "Um. Yeah. I'm...nervous. A lot is going to happen. I need to talk to somepony. Not anypony. Somepony who I can trust to be confidential. So....could you? You know? Talk to me?"

Mac smiled gently. "All right, Captain. If that's what you need. We can talk." He called to the fillies, who were excitedly inspecting a row of hand-whittled wooden spears. "C'mon, girls. Let's find you a nice place to sleep." They walked off together, the fillies bouncing happily around him.

She watched them as they left. He was a good pony. And he talked to her like she was a good pony, too. She sighed, her heart heavy. She relied too much on him. She needed him. To give orders. To watch the troops. To give advice. To calm her down. She knew she couldn't rely so much on one pony. But who else could she rely on? Who else was Big Mac? She breathed in deeply, slowly. And exhaled. She knew she had to lean on other ponies more. But it was so easy with him.

She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. That couldn't be today's problem. Or tomorrow's. There were things to do now, and if Mac helped her do them, then that was fine. Leadership is managing the relative importance of your problems. There will always be problems, every day. There will always things to do. a voice told her. She bit her lip and ignored it. Keep thinking like that, keep justifying it, and soon I'll be dependent on him. In every way. Her lip started to bleed. No. It was time to write. It was time to- And then he will die. Or worse, I'll be forced to choose between what's right for Mac and what's right for the militia. Derpy, Derpy. Isn't that what you just did? Ignore the book to save his sister? Just because you're so desperate for someone to NO NO NO NO NO *CRACK* she smacked her hoof into her temple. No. No doubts. Not now.

She picked up a quill with her lips, and adjusted it into writing position.
> VII. Northwest of Ponyville, Equestria. October, 1251
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

VII. Northwest of Ponyville, Equestria. October, 1251

Bon Bon shivered. The mud was cold. It was unseasonably chilly, even though the sun hung high in the sky. And they had spent so long, just lying there, on their stomachs, in the mud. The cold, cold mud. The tall grasses--Captain Derpy said they'd block the gryphons' vision--blocked the sun, too. Somehow, they didn't do anything against the wind. But it wouldn't be long now. They could hear voices, low and throaty. Grass rustling. The noise, coming closer. Closer. She felt her heart pounding. Her fur--the part that wasn't caked in mud--was covered in a cold, oily sweat. She tried to swallow. She couldn't. Her mouth was completely dry.  She looked to her left. Grass. She looked to her right. More grass.

She whistled, softly, gently, sounding like a far-off bird. To her right, a mint green hoof slid into view. She pressed her own hoof against it. They clattered together. Bon Bon was shaking. So was Lyra.

Suddenly, there was another whistle: high, piercing, and loud. And immediately, as she had practiced, Bon Bon stood up. She didn't want to--she begged her body not to comply--but it had been drilled into her. One long whistle means stand and charge. And so she did. And, she saw, so did everyone else.

It was surreal. A horrible flight of imagination; a late-night what-if. A hundred colorful ponies, running through the grass, closing in on twenty-some bewildered lions pulling carts. Her eardrums pounded; she couldn't hear anything but her own heartbeat. And suddenly, there he was, in the grass: a lion. A real lion, in Gryphonic armor, a bewildered look on his feline face. Right in front of her. Bon Bon slid to a stop. A lion. She stared at him. He stared at her. A pony. A lion.

Immediately, a flash of mint green lept over Bon Bon's right shoulder. Lyra hit the mud, rolled, and sprang to her feet, twisting one-hundred-eighty degrees in the process. She landed right in front of the lion, then pushed off with her front hooves, launching her body backwards at his face, her hind legs cocked beneath her, her face twisted in determination. The lion twisted back reflexively. It didn't help. Lyra's legs snapped back, driving her hooves square into his face. She could feel an instant of resistance, then something snapping, giving way, opening a fault line. She lost her balance coming down, as the lion's body crumpled, and she fell hard on his armor. She coughed weakly; it knocked the breath out of her. She felt the lion's body twitch spastically. She heard him gurgle. She heard the wind blow. She realized that she heard nothing else. She lifted her head and looked around. Everyone, pony or lion, was watching in silent horror.

Suddenly, there was a roar, from all around, as a hundred ponies and twenty-some lions snapped out of their shock. The lions bared their teeth. The ponies pawed the mud and snorted. And in a hundred ragged movements, the two sides leapt at each other.

The lions were strong: powerful, proud, and fierce. They bit. They clawed. They tore. But they were outnumbered. And their armor, designed to deflect a blade or a tooth or a talon, offered little protection against the crushing force of a pony's kick. 

Lyra and Bon Bon fought together. As with most of the ponies, they didn't ever approach a lion. Instead, like most of the ponies, they held firm, each refusing to abandon the other. And when a lion charged close, each protected the other with their powerful rear hooves. The lions, for their part, fought the only way they knew how: by picking an enemy and leaping at it, ready to tear out its flesh and its viscera until it died.

In that way the skirmish was fought: the 'attacking' ponies in a ragged, uneven defensive line; the 'defending' lions haphazardly charging in a chaotic offense.

Bon Bon didn't keep count. One lion. Then another. Then another. They didn't stay near her for long; they would charge, and get kicked, and stumble back, and leap at another pony. Occasionally she would hear a pony's voice cry in anguish or alarm, but the lions were clearly getting the worst of the skirmish. By now at least two thirds of them were lying on the ground, either dead or simply unable to get up. And the ponies' line was beginning to curve in around the surviving lions, enveloping them, preventing retreat.

And then she felt something she didn't expect. Pain. Two streaks of pain, starting at her tail and continuing down her back and across her neck. Something brown and white and fast and screeching filled her vision, and was gone. A few ponies yelled in alarm: GRYPHONS! Bon Bon took a stumbling step forward. She could feel blood running down her back, down her neck, down her chest. She was bleeding. So that's what it's like. She felt dizzy, nauseous. Lightheaded. She closed her eyes and swayed. A gryphon slashed across her again, and she fell without resistance.

Immediately, there were three loud whistles, sharp and short. There was a fluttering of wings. And all around, there was a dull sound of bodies crashing into the muddy ground. She rolled her head to look up. All she could see was a few low clouds.

It was dark. Dark for daytime. And the mud was still so cold. She couldn't hear anything. She could barely see anything. She closed her eyes.



She opened them. Lyra was standing over her. So was Nurse Redheart. Both of them exhaled in relief, in gratitude. "Oh my God, Bon Bon," Lyra began, "I was so worried, we had to put you on a cart but we couldn't get you back here until oh my God I'm sorry we did everything we could for you but you weren't the only one but you'll be okay now and--" Redheart put a hoof around Lyra, and gently shushed her.

Bon Bon tried to lift her head. She couldn't. She tried to breathe. She barely could. It was so cold. "The..." she whispered, in a dry rasp. "The gryphons ambushed us." She coughed weakly.

Lyra tried to smile. She hoped Bon Bon would notice the smile and not the tears. "Yeah honey. But we ambushed them. The pegasus ponies were in the clouds. They pounced on the gryphons as soon as we saw them. We won the battle. We took a bunch of prisoners, and a few supply carts. And then we brought you back here!"

"'ats good," Bon Bon choked out. "We can go home now."

Lyra looked at Redheart. Redheart nodded, and walked away.

"Listen, honey," Lyra began nervously. Her voice was cracked and faltering. Bon Bon didn't notice that, either. "You're...really beat up. You lost a lot of blood back there. A lot. Redheart says you're in shock."

"I'm okay. It's just...this mud is so cold."

"You're in camp, sweetie." Tears streamed down Lyra's face. "You're under blankets. We're taking care of you. I'm taking care of you."

Bon Bon stared blankly ahead. "Oh. 'Ats good. Still cold though." She coughed. "I need water."

Lyra nodded, sniffling. "All right. The nurse said you'd need water. That's good. Here." Using her horn, she floated the pitcher next to the bed up to Bon Bon's mouth. Bon Bon lifted her head a few inches, and began to drink.

She drank the whole pitcher. And she laid her head back down, and closed her eyes again.

Lyra looked around the tent sadly. She knew there were no more blankets to give. But it was chilly out, and Redheart had said that keeping Bon Bon warm was the best way of keeping her alive. She undid her own rough, dirty cloak, and floated it over Bon Bon's sleeping body. That might help.



------------------



Derpy walked the length of the battlefield. Well, it was sort of a battlefield: it was a field, and there had been a battle in it. It didn't look like much, though. She always pictured a "battlefield" as a big, square field, trimmed and green, with magnificent armies parading around. Maybe a castle in the background. This was some reeds and mud that had been trampled down. It was a bit disappointing. She knew war was bad. But she thought it was supposed to be majestic. It wasn't majestic. It was just...a muddy brawl. Majesty would have given dignity to the deaths. This was just murder.

She stopped, suddenly. A pony. It was Aloe, lying there in the grass, looking pathetically up at her, her mane wet and muddied. Derpy immediately called out, "Medics! I've got an injured pony!" A few dozen yards away, a pony called an affirmative response. The pegasus leaned down, smiling gently: "It's okay, Aloe," she cooed. "We'll fix you up."

There was no response. Suddenly, Derpy felt very, very sick. She gently touched the spa pony's head. It fell to the right, eye still fixed dead forward. The entire left half of her skull was now a mangled mass of brain and bone and blood and hair.

"Yes, Captain?" Lemon Hearts, a young yellow medic pony asked, as she walked into the clearing. 

"I'm...sorry, medic. I was wrong," Derpy said quietly, slowly. "We need to put her with the ones to bury."

Lemon Hearts nodded, then looked at Aloe's body. "Oh...oh. Oh. Yeah. Oh. Okay. Captain. Okay."

Derpy had read you were supposed to close a pony's eyes when they were dead like that. That it was respectful. Made them look peaceful. She did that for Rose, who had bled out after having a leg torn off. But...when a pony was missing half her face, half her head...she can't look peaceful. She can just look dead. Mangled and dead. She reached down and pulled off Aloe's cloak, then laid it gently over her upper body. That would have to do. She shook her head sadly. Poor Aloe. She had hoped, before the battle, that seeing her dead ponies would make it easier to issue the order regarding surrendered enemies. No. It didn't.

She walked back towards the banner, where the prisoners were bound. Twenty of them; seventeen lions and three gryphons. All the other lions were dead, and most of the gryphons, though a handful of gryphons had managed to avoid the pinning ambush and flown away.

Big Mac was there to greet her. "Captain," he saluted. "Who'll we assign to guard 'em?" 

Derpy signaled him to come closer, and shook her head. She spoke quietly but firmly. "Nopony. We can't afford to keep prisoners."

Mac raised an eyebrow. "We're just lettin' em go?"

Derpy shook her head again. "I'm sorry. It's awful, but we can't afford that either."

Mac's eyes grew wide. "Oh, no. No, Captain. They surrendered. I couldn't live with myself."

Derpy bit her lip. If she ordered it, she 'couldn't live with herself' either. But they couldn't afford to keep prisoners, and the way a pony fought, enemies were more likely to be crippled before they were killed. And they couldn't let them go. She sighed. "We have to, Lieutenant. We have to. If we let them go, they'll be burning down farmhouses and killing ponies again tomorrow. And if they captured any of us they'd kill us immediately; we're not soldiers in their eyes like Celestia's forces are. We're criminals to them. They'd kill us if we surrendered to them."

Mac shook his head. "I can't do it, Captain. And you shouldn't. If word gets out you kill prisoners, none of 'em will surrender. They'll fight till they die."

"Then I won't have to kill any more will I!" she said, far more loudly than she meant to. A few ponies turned their heads. So did the prisoners.

"You could...maim 'em. Blind 'em or cut off their wings or somethin' so they can't fight. But you don't have to kill 'em," Big Mac said, searching for a way out. "I don't know. Maybe trade 'em for somethin' with the Gryphons. Somethin'!"

Derpy rubbed her eyes with a hoof, then looked at him pleadingly. "Big Mac, please. Please understand. I can't mutilate prisoners after every battle. I'd be a monster. And they won't trade with us. And...this will be clean. Like you said. They won't surrender again. And I won't have to do this again. Ever again."

Mac swallowed, hard. His eyes glistened. "I won't do it. You can do it. It's your right. But...I didn't think you would."

The disappointed look on his face made Derpy feel far, far worse than even the prospect of being a murderer did. "I'm sorry, Mac. I'm sorry. I don't ask you to agree. Or even to understand. Just...believe me that I don't want to. Please."

Mac shook his head. "When I don't want to do somethin' I don't do it." He turned, sharply, and began walking away.

Why...how could he say...a flash of anger rose in her. "I don't have that luxury!" she snapped back at him. He didn't react. She tried again. "And neither do you!" He didn't even slow down. She groaned, anger subsiding, despair swelling.



----------



The ponies raised their voices together, the harmonies swirling in the night air. Torches ringed the group, sitting in a wide circle. At the center, forty-some corpses lay shrouded in cheap cloth. Some of the cloth, covering the smaller figures, was dyed in Equestrian gold-and-white. Most of the bodies were wrapped in simple rough fabric.

The hymn, old and beautiful, came to an end. Derpy stood, slowly. Some of the ponies watched her. Most looked down, or away. Many just stared forlornly at one corpse or another, looking at their friend or sister or lover for the last time.

Derpy began to speak.



"Ponies. Word of the war came to us several weeks ago. Yet only today do those words have meaning. Between us lie some of our beloved friends and our sacred family. And between us lie many of the enemy, whose friends and whose family will be denied the chance to do what we do tonight: say farewell to those who have left. As our dead died for us, so their dead died for them. And so we repay sacrifice with memory. In their honor, as well as in the honor of our own dead, do we say: Justice be done."

Justice be done, the crowd responded.

"We did not ask for this war. We did not choose to fight it. But the responsibility has fallen on each and every pony regardless. We are those of Ponyville who have chosen to bear that responsibility. And between us lie those of Ponyville who have embraced that responsibility fully and finally. We must not falter now. We must not abandon our posts. For these ponies cannot, now or ever. In their honor, do we say: Duty be done."

Duty be done, the crowd responded.

"We mourn the dead, as we give solemn thanks that they lived. And as we say farewell, it is with gratitude. For though we mourn, we mourn so that others may not have to. We mourn our friends so that mothers throughout Equestria will not mourn their foals. We mourn our friends so that all future generations of ponies will not mourn their freedom. Our friends have offered their lives to pay the unjust and unfair debt our enemy has imposed on our innocent. In their honor, do we say: Mercy be done."

Mercy be done, the crowd responded.

"Though none of us wishes to die, we take solace in the fact that not one of our friends died as a coward. Not one pony died fleeing. Not one pony died hiding. They met their fates bravely and willingly. They died not as victims. They died as heroes. May we be so brave, for it is only through willingness to lie down our lives that we can preserve them. In their honor, do we say: Valor be done."

Valor be done, the crowd responded.

"And may we always remember why they have died. They were no conquerers, hoping to grow fat off the food of another. They were no mercenaries, hoping to grow rich off the gold of another. They were ponies, hoping only that they might return to their peaceful lives. Together with them, we have suffered. On the field of battle, they suffered especially. They have now returned to peace. Now, it is we who must continue to suffer. We suffer so we all might return to peace. In their honor, do we say: Peace be done."

Peace be done, the crowd responded. 

And with one intertwining voice, the ponies again began to sing.

As they sang, Derpy looked to the side, at Big Mac, a gleam of hope in her crossed eyes. He shook his head sadly. She fixed her good eye straight ahead, and sang a bit louder.
> VIII. Westmarch, Equestria. November, 1251.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

VIII. Westmarch, Equestria. November, 1251.

The kettle began to whistle. Rainbow Dash's eyes perked up. All right, she thought, coffee time. Awesome. She jumped up and bounded over to the fire. Funny how war changes you: I never liked coffee before. Wait, no, that didn't quite sound right. She glanced at the darkening sky. What am I saying? I still don't like coffee. And army coffee is terrible. But there was still the undeniable fact that she had just called coffee time "awesome." Oh yeah. Right. I like coffee time because it's the only time anything actually happens in the evenings. Ugh.

She poured a mug and sat with it. A month of marching. A solid month. Eating small portions of bland food. Doing the same training drills every daylight hour. Doing nothing at all in the evening. Sleeping a few hours on the dirt. And every few days, picking up everything and marching again. 

Meanwhile, the gryphons had swallowed a third of Equestria. It was hard to tell exactly what they had taken; reports were that they tried to administer some areas, had given up in others, were marching little armies back and forth across supposedly “pacified” areas for...for who knows why. Dash didn't know what was happening behind the Gryphonic front. Nopony did. But given where the two main Gryphonic armies were, a third of Equestria, including Stalliongrad and Fillydelphia, was inaccessible to free ponies. Maybe Gryphonia had conquered all that. Maybe ponies were resisting. Maybe it was a wasteland. No sense speculating about it.

Just one of the many parts of army life that frustrated Rainbow Dash. There was the fact that she took orders from a crusty old unicorn who had never even been in a barfight. There was the horrible repetitiveness of army life. There was the fact that they kept getting up to run away from gryphon armies instead of standing and fighting. There was the fact that nopony seemed to know what the gryphons were doing, or even what the ponies were doing. Celestia said war would be scary. Rainbow Dash had prepared herself for scary. She hadn't prepared herself for frustrating, boring, and pointless.

A pegasus colt trotted over to her. “Lt. Dash? 3rd Pegasus Lancers?” His voice was cold. Efficient for his age. Dash nodded, sipping her coffee. “I have a report for you. New recruits. Start training them tomorrow.”

“Alright, thanks, kid,” she said, eying him over the mug. She took the papers, and he started to leave. “Hey...wait. Kid. How old are you, anyway? How'd you manage to enlist?”

He looked at her, unfazed. “My birth records were lost when my family farm was burned, so my mother vouched for me. I'm of age.”

“A'right, sure, carry on.” Dash waved him away as she scanned through the report. Whatever. If he's a stallion, so am I. The report was the same as every week's. Names, birthplaces, professions. All useless. She learned that kind of thing face-to-face, not by reading a sheet of names without contexts. But hell, it was something to do. She started from the top.



Redmoon. Trotsdale farmstead. Weather engineer. She'll be hardworking, though maybe not the quickest hoof.

Starsong. Hoofington. Entertainer. Ugh. Can't wait to hear her to complain the uniform doesn't match her eyes.

Cloudburst Dazzle. Manehattan. Dock supervisor. Hm. Might have had to pitch in loading at the docks.

Spitfire. Cloudsdale. Entertainer. Two showponies in one week?They're trying to kill me, I know it.

Ruby Glow. Manehattan farmstead. Weather engineer. All right, another weatherpony. That'll make up for...



Wait. Cloudsdale. Entertainer. Spitfire? She read the name, over and over. Spitfire. Cloudsdale. Entertainer. There it was. Though she hardly believed it. She put her mug down. Spitfire. Cloudsdale. Entertainer.

She checked the sky. It'd be at least two, maybe three hours until curfew. And if she had the report, Spitfire was in camp. Somewhere....probably at the commesariat. Yeah, definitely the commesariat; the first thing they did with every new recruit is issue them a uniform, supplies, field rations, that kinda stuff. And Dash knew that took forever; they had no sense of efficiency there. Well. Time to pay Rarity's girls a visit.

She ran back to her tent, and tossed the report on her sack; she could file it later. And then she headed off for the center of the camp, at as brisk a walking pace as she could get away with.

The camp was hectic, as always. For twenty thousand ponies who never seemed to actually get anything done, they sure seemed to do an awful lot. Tents were always going up and going down. Carts overloaded with supplies were always being dragged from place to place by exhausted-looking unicorns. Cannons were always being disassembled for cleaning. Armor was always being repaired. There were always units drilling, always inspections, always new recruits wandering confusedly. And there were always thousands of ponies, apparently wandering aimlessly, yet always quick with an explanation if they were challenged. Dash slipped easily through the crowd; you couldn't survive in the army and not be able to navigate the churning sea of ponies.

She arrived soon enough at the commesariat. Rarity stood somewhat behind the makeshift counter, tallying on a scroll while five other unicorns floated boxes and sacks around the huge tent, from shelf to shelf, and sometimes onto carts or into the hooves of waiting ponies.

"Hey--HEY!" Dash shouted. "Rarity!"

Rarity didn't look up. "I am a Captain in the New Equestrian Army, Lt. Dash, and I will be addressed as such."

Dash rolled her eyes. Ridiculous. She was in charge of putting boxes on top of boxes and she was called Captain. Fine. Whatever. She was still useless. 

"Okay. Captain Rarity, Ma'am. Have you seen Spitfire here?"

Rarity kept writing. "I see lots of pegasi, Lt. Dash, I don't know which ones are yours. I always try to take very good care of all of them, because I understand that a blanket is all a poor soldier has sometimes. I promise your girl will have whatever her problem is taken care of as soon as we get around to her report form." She adjusted her glasses. "But I'm very behind schedule, so if you could let me get back to this, please."

"No, Rarity! Spitfire!" She banged a hoof on the counter. "The wonderbolt! Have you seen her?"

Rarity looked up. "Lt. Dash! Show respect!" She glared at her old friend. Dash glared back. Rarity sighed, and floated her clipboard on top of a nearby box. She walked over to the counter, and spoke in a quiet voice. "Rainbow Dash, dear, Rainbow Dash. Please don't take it personally. You know I respect you as a friend and as an equal. And I don't know how it is with you rough-and-tumble pegasi and earth ponies."

Dash started to interrupt. Rarity talked over her, quietly but firmly. "But I simply can't make my department run unless my ponies respect rank. They must see me as superior to them. I don't like it more than you do. Please don't make this hard on me, dear. The system must come first. Regardless of our feelings."

Dash bit her tongue. There were quite a few things she wouldn't mind saying. But it wasn't the time to start a fight, especially with a superior officer. Even if that "superior officer" was nothing but the queen of blanket-stitchers and shirt-menders. She sighed, short and sharp. "Right. I'm sorry, Captain. Ma'am. So you haven't seen Spitfire?"

"I told you, darling," Rarity said, shaking her head, her perfect mane swaying. "I see many pegasi, and frankly, the only way I can identify those 'Wonderbolts' of yours is by their hideous costume. Which I assure you, I have not seen today. Now please. I really must get back to work. Authority comes with many responsibilities~" she trailed off, in a cheery, melodious voice, as she floated her clipboard back in front of her.

Dash spat on the ground and walked off. Yeah. Sure, Rarity. I don't like it any more than you do. The system must come first. Bunch of horse apples. Dash saw through it, all right. Rarity loved pulling rank. She loved being higher up than any of the others. Her and Twilight. What, because Captain Twilight Sparkle came up with some stupid chartbook the gunners could use? Because Captain Rarity had reorganized the 'dreadfully inefficient' process the tailors were using? Ridiculous. This was an army, designed to fight, and the ponies being rewarded were the ones who came up with new ways of sitting around not fighting. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Rainbow Dash had turned a bunch of cloud-pushers into a deadly, unbreakable spearhead, and nopony even knew she had done it. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Why, she ought to-

"Oh my gosh! Rainbow Dash! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!" A familiar voice broke her angry reverie. "Over here!"

A yellow pony with a flame-orange mane came bounding up. "You remember me, right? Spitfire?"

Dash shook her head in shock. "Uh...y...yeah. Yeah! I'm Rainbow Dash. Hi."

Spitfire laughed. "Yeah, I know, that's what I called ya! So you're my commanding officer, huh? How about that! That's awesome!"

Dash felt beads of sweat on her forehead. She wiped them off. "So...Spitfire? I can call you that, right?"

Spitfire nodded, still cheery. "I think so. We're in the same platoon. And I'm a sergeant, ha ha, crazy. So it's not like breaking rank or anything. Or is it? Hey, you don't mind if I call you Rainbow Dash, do you? I mean, I'll call you Lt. Dash if you want. That might be better. Yeah, that's better. Hey, are you feeling all right, Lieutenant?"

Dash laughed, trying not to sound nervous. "Y...yeah. Long day. Lots of flying! Ha ha. You'd know about that. Ha. Of course. So...you've got your things?"

Spitfire motioned with her head to a sack nestled between her wings. "Yep. I was going to head towards the 3rd Lancers now! I figured I wouldn't see you until tomorrow though, so that's pretty cool."

"Great! Great. So...uh...do you like coffee?"

"Eh...not really." Spitfire glanced aside. "Never been my thing."

Dash laughed, this time genuinely. "It will be. C'mon, I'll take you to the cavalry officers' tents. Let's get a cup."



--------



Spitfire took a sip and screwed up her face. "Lieutenant, I know said I didn't like coffee, but that wasn't a request for whatever the heck this is."

Dash smirked. "Welcome to the army, Spitfire. Wow. Spitfire. I...I gotta say. I totally idolized you when I was younger."

Spitfire shrugged. "Yeah. Comes with the territory. Kids everywhere fall in love with ya. Isn't it silly? I'm just a dancer if you think about it. We all work real hard at it, but we're still just dancers at the end of the day."

"What? No! You're great! You guys are like the best fliers in Equestria! Anypony would be honored to fly with you."

Spitfire laughed. "C'mon, Lieutenant. We loop around in the sky. What you do here is real flying. Lining up a mid-air flanking lance charge against some gryphon heavy cavalry? Plotting out the next 30 seconds of three-dimensional maneuvers involving hundreds of soldiers? That takes the kind of skills you can't practice." She took another sip, then frowned. She set the mug down on the ground, then pushed it away with her hoof. "Y'know, I pulled some strings to request your unit. Some of the other girls wanted to, too, but they said it would be a distraction to morale if too many of us joined one platoon."

Dash was confused. "Wait. You wanted to fly with me? But...I'm nopony. I'm not even good enough to be one of you yet. I practiced every day in hopes I'd be good enough for you someday."

Spitfire laughed, louder. "Are you serious? You're pullin' my hoof here. Seriously? You've gotta be the fastest pony in recorded history. I mean, nopony else has broken the sound barrier, have they? You can fly quickly and precisely enough across a ballroom filled with ponies to pick up a falling glass before it hits the ground. We'd have made you a member ten times over if Celestia hadn't vetoed it each time we asked."

"Vetoed..." Dash whispered.

"And thank goodness she did, really. We're entertainers, Lieutenant. We don't get dibs on national treasures. Imagine if you'd been off in Stalliongrad performing with us when Discord returned." Spitfire shook her head, laughing again. Her shock of orange hair rippled with the movement. "Man. And you really did want to be a 'bolt. Ain't that crazy. Well, maybe I'll teach you a few of our tricks, but they're really not that hard. It's mostly showponyship; when you're on the ground it's hard to judge what a pony in the air is really doing. Heh. That comes in handy in the cavalry, I'm sure."

Dash's eyes opened wide. She had been trying to digest the term national treasure, but suddenly she felt a sense of kinship she hadn't known she had been needing. She grinned. "Oh. My. Gosh. Spitfire. That is exactly right. That's what I'm doing here! Oh, Spitfire, nopony understands, not even my girls. They do it but they don't understand! And I try to tell the unicorns and they understand even less! "

Spitfire smiled and nodded.

Dash continued, gesturing wildly, trying to illustrate as she spoke. "There are so many things you can do to disguise your true heading and position. You just have to plan out how you want it to look, and then there's all sorts of tricks you can use to make it look that way I mean, we're talking a difference in time before impact of seconds. Seconds! I mean seconds, Spitfire, whole seconds! And I know it doesn't sound like much to the unicorns, but you know what a second means in the air! When the lions or gryphons or whoever think they've got 20 seconds to get into position and they've only got 15, you'll hit them before they've braced their spears. You'll plow right through 'em! Oh, Spitfire! You have to see my plans! C'mon!"

She stood up, and flung her head towards her tent. "C'mon! Back to my tent! I'm not a good artist, but you'll understand the diagrams, I know it!"

Spitfire followed, feeling increasingly confident in her decision to sign on with Lt. Dash.



-------



In the headquarters tent, Celestia stared at the map. "I will ask you again, General," she intoned. "How. Did. This. Happen."

The old unicorn shifted his weight. "We...told the pegasi to scout around the area. To keep a watch for movements. They must not have--"

Celestia cut him off, wheeling her glare to him."--do not tell me what the scouts did not do. It is your job, General, your only job, to ensure that the scouts do it. How is it the case that there is a gryphon army within three hours' march? What have you failed to do? And what do you expect me to do about it?"

The old unicorn was silent. Celestia looked back at the map.

"We're going to have to fight them tomorrow. We're in no condition to retreat. We'd have to abandon our entire camp if we did that. We wouldn't be an army; we'd be a rabble of refugees." She moved a few tokens around the map. "No. We have to fight. And we have to rout them completely. Or it's over."

She turned to her sister. "Luna. The Generals, it seem, have forgotten the necessity of thoroughness in preparations. Prepare a tactical deployment for tomorrow morning. Be creative; you're quite devious when you wish to be." Celestia winked. Luna smirked back. "I myself am going to round up and address the troops. I'll return in an hour and we can discuss what you've come up with."

Luna sucked on a strand of hair. Hm. The gryphons would be expecting a panicked retreat. That's all they've seen so far. And they wouldn't have yet learned any respect for Equestrian generalship. Well, then. A "panicked retreat" will be the order of the day. Why, our caravans will retreat right up this hill here. Right into the cloud cover we'll set up before dawn.

She smiled, and began to draw lines on the map. 

There'll be a panicked retreat, all right.
> IX. Westmarch, Equestria. November, 1251.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

IX. Westmarch, Equestria. November, 1251.

The cold dawn sun shone through the haze--the haze the pegasi had assembled in two hours of frenetic work. Through the mist, they could barely make out the skeleton of a camp sprawling just down the slope. And beyond that, they could see nothing, though they heard the faint rapping of snare drums in the distance.



"The orders have been given, sister?"

"Yes, Luna."

"The lieutenant commanding the 3rd Lancers. We have told her nothing of the plan, correct? This time there have been no last-minute changes of heart causing you to override me?"

"No, but I am still uncomfortable with it. While I suspect Rainbow Dash will survive, the fact remains that she may give her life. She should at least know why."

"It is necessary. Her cavalry are the most disciplined in the army, but even they are not capable of willingly undertaking a suicide mission. They shall charge, thinking they shall be supported, and they will rout when they realize they are alone and endangered. The rout must appear natural. It would ruin things if they were to think about their task beforehand. I do not like relying on the acting talents of soldiers to win battles."

"I know the pony commanding them, Luna. She thinks about things. She's canny."

"The blue-and-rainbow one? You misjudge her. She doesn't think. She acts. She is perfect for this."

"I'm not so sure that's true."

"You know how to be popular, sister. I know how to win. I must defer to you on matters of diplomacy. You must defer to me on matters of tactics."

"Yes. I wouldn't dream of interfering."



Rainbow Dash stared at her orders. This...this couldn't be right. Her ponies were lancers. Only 300 lancers. And they were supposed to charge the gryphons' lion infantry head-on?  And then, after the charge...break formation and scatter in retreat? That's it? What...what was that supposed to accomplish? That wasn't how you used cavalry. What were the unicorns thinking? Did any of those puffed-up, know-nothing wanna-be eggheads know a single thing about cavalry combat? She smacked the paper with a hoof. She couldn't believe it. She had trained her girls painstakingly. They were good. No. They were awesome. And they were just going to throw away their lives on an idiotic frontal charge, which would be completely unsupported by the rest of the army. Is that what she was supposed to do?  Was that really going to be her ponies' first and last taste of war? To be killed because some stupid general didn't know how to use them?

Her girls trusted her. Each of them did. Mayweather. Starshine. Whisper Breeze. And now, Spitfire. All good ponies. And Dash was responsible for bringing each of them home alive. How could she throw their lives away on some idiot unicorn's mistake? How could she order a head-on charge? Heck, how could she order the the army's best cavalry unit to commit suicide? Wouldn't that just hurt the army pointlessly? She couldn't betray the army like that. She couldn't betray her soldiers like that. She couldn't betray Spitfire like that. She couldn't betray herself like that. She had never betrayed anypony in her life, not willingly. She read the orders again. And then she looked at her map. And she began to plan.



Fluttershy's lip trembled as the unicorn strapped her to her gurney-cart. So, it was happening. It wasn't a nightmare any more. It was real. There was going to be a battle. Ponies would get hurt. Ponies would die. All so they could hurt gryphons and lions. And she would try to help some of the hurt ones. And she would patch them up, and then they would go get hurt again. Or worse, go and hurt someone else. She looked around the near-empty medical tent, which had been relocated to the far side of the hill. Soon it would be filled with suffering ponies. Dying ponies. She had never seen a dying pony. Her grandma, maybe, but that was different. Natural. Peaceful. This...wouldn't be peaceful. And she didn't want to have anything to do with it. 

She glanced nervously around. The fog made it hard for anypony to see more than a few dozen meters. And she could fly fast, when she wanted to. Fast and low. One of her boys had remarked that it would make it easier to slip in and slip out to rescue ponies. It certainly would make it easy to slip out, she thought. And then she thought of what they had said in the tavern a month ago. Could she really leave Pinkie Pie or Rainbow Dash to die on a battlefield, they had asked. She shook her head. That wasn't the question they should have been asking. They should have asked if she could really be supporting something that was about to put Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash on the battlefield in the first place. She looked around again. Nopony was watching.



The 1st Support unicorns had worked themselves to exhaustion. So Rarity had thought, four hours ago. By now, they had worked themselves through exhaustion to...well, whatever was worse, and then to whatever was worse than that. Two stallions and three mares had already collapsed and been carried to the makeshift rear camp. And still they worked. Everything had to be packed. Everything had to be ready. And they had to be in motion, in unguarded retreat up the foggy hill, when the gryphons arrived. She didn't like how exposed she would be, but the army was close. It would descend on the Gryphonic army before they could get near the retreating ponies. But for that to work, the gryphons had to be pursuing the "retreat."

And for that to happen, the 1st Support needed to be ready. She stumbled, and then steadied herself by leaning against a crate. The gryphons were almost here. But the 1st Support would be ready to do their part.



Pinkie Pie bounced excitedly, her ill-fitting uniform flopping around her. "Oh girls! You'll do great, I just know it! ...oh, come on now, don't be scared. Remember what I told you? About laughing at being scared?"

One of them, Bubblepop, responded hesitantly, her green-and-pink mane falling in front of her face. "Lieutenant...we know. But that was about things that can't hurt you. Gryphons and lions can hurt you. Bad."

Pinkie chuckled. "They can hurt you just as much if you're scared as if you're happy. You just need to believe in yourself. And besides. We've got an easy job. We just run around the lions so they can't get away and they get scared! Now. Let's see some scary faces. Grrrar!" She growled and bared her teeth. It was surprisingly intimidating. She smiled again. "See? Easy peasy pumpkin pie."

Peach Cream, a newer recruit, looked fornlornly at Pinkie. "Lieutenant. We're...um...we're gonna be okay, right? We're gonna be fine. Say we're gonna be fine."

"Girls, c'mon! You're all gonna be fine. We've got a great plan. And we've done tons of really hard work. Trust me! I'm your Auntie Pinkie. Auntie Lt. Pinkie. Lt. Auntie Pinkie. Either way! You'll be fine."

Peach Cream looked down the hill. "Okay," she said softly. "Since you say so."



"Uh, Lt. Apple, what do you mean, 'they didn't know?'"

Applejack shrugged. "I mean they didn't know. 'Swhat Twilight told me, at any rate. Somepony didn't give out the right orders or somethin', meanin' they didn't know where the enemy army was. So now we gotta fight, 'cause they let the gryphons get too close."

The ponies murmured unhappily. Applejack put on a cross face.

"Now, don't get sore 'bout it, gals. Sometimes ponies make little mistakes and that makes big problems. But we can get through 'em. We just gotta buck up and fight!"

More murmuring. From the middle of the line, somepony called out, "They don't know what they're doing! Do they even know what they're doing today?!"

Applejack shrugged again. "Maybe. I certainly hope so. Hmm. Can't know for sure, though. Could be they ain't got a clue. Oh well. It don't change what we gotta do. "

Still another wave of murmurs swept through her lines. Applejack reared up and put her hooves on her hips. "Now I don't wanna hear you talkin' like that. It ain't the whole gryphon army. It's just a lil' detachment they reckoned was more'n big enough to wipe us out, on account'a how we're so green." A pony raised a hoof. Applejack rolled her eyes. "No, Sgt. Cloverluck, there ain't anythin' wrong with actually bein' green. It's a figure'a speech. Now c'mon, y'all knew what I meant." 

Applejack dropped back to all fours, then turned and faced downhill. "All right, everypony. Rocks out!" They each took the three large stones out of their bags, and stacked them directly in front of them.  "Now everypony down!" They all crouched down, into the grass, their thin armor clinking as it hit the ground.

She wasn't worried. Her soldiers trusted her, because she was always honest with them. Always honest, no matter what. If she knew ponies, then they'd repay that honesty with bravery.



At the top of the hill, in the haze, Twilight Sparkle peered through her binoculars. She could just make out the dim form of the gryphon vanguard. A green-and-fuschia pony stood beside her.

"I don't think it'll work, Captain Sparkle."

"It will work. Luna's crafty, believe me."

"They won't break formation to pursue the retreat. It's too obvious."

"That's what the lancer charge is for. It'll look like a botched screening action. One mistake might be a ruse. Two mistakes looks like incompetence. They'll break to take advantage, even if their generals don't want them to. And then we'll wipe them out."

"Gryphons aren't stupid, Captain."

"But they think we are, Lieutenant. It will work. Are your guns zeroed in?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And Lt. Dazzle's?"

"Yes, ma'am. So are Lt. Goodpart's."

"Goodpart? ...Oh, right, the new officer. That's a funny name. Where's he from?"

"Isle of Clopsica, Captain. He transferred in a few days ago, to replace you when you got promoted. I hear he was part of a local militia that had gotten its hooves on some ancient 12-pounder relics."

"Is he any good?"

"Seems to be good enough. Your ponies have certainly taken to him."

"Good." She breathed in deeply, and then exhaled. "All right, Lieutenant Glow. Return to your guns. When I give the signal, all batteries are to fire at the center of their front line. Once our infantry engages them, you may pick your targets. It'll be carcass shot today, so careful while you're loading, mind your range and keep your fire away from our girls.  We shouldn't need any counterbattery work, but keep the explosive shot ready just in case, and be prepared to do some quick rangefinding. And as always, keep the tables handy. "

The green-and-fuschia pony saluted. Twilight returned the salute. The rattling snare drums were louder, now. It wouldn't be long.

---------------



With one hoof, Rainbow Dash readjusted her her dull gold helmet. Her white-and-yellow uniform was crisp and clean, though those two words had somewhat less impressive meanings in an army camp. Her cavalry hovered in wedge formation behind her. Her eyes narrowed. She grinned. Time to show those unicorns how a pegasus should fly. She tripped her lance's mechanism. It creaked satisfyingly as it extended from her shoulder, iron on iron. Behind her, she could hear the reassuring sound of two hundred ninety three more lances doing the same.

She blew her whistle, then took off at high speed, parallel to the ground, leaving a faint rainbow trail behind her. Her girls stayed with her in a tight formation. The lion army, marching in loose squares, was directly ahead. She glanced up, checking her target, then fixed her gaze directly ahead. Won't they be surprised. 10 seconds to impact. 7. 6. 5. The lions braced their spears for the charge. 3. 2. NOW.

She spread her wings wide and tilted them to increase drag and lift. Her stomach lept as she suddenly lost speed and gained altitude, popping up and over the lion lines. Her lancers followed, and expertly re-aligned themselves into a conical formation behind her. And with a sudden start, they accelerated again, now streaking directly upwards.

Above them was a formation of four hundred gryphon hussars, similarly unarmored, which had been getting into a position overlooking the apparent point of impact for the pegasus charge. To tear us apart once we begin to rout, no doubt. Betcha didn't know we could do this, huh? The gryphon hussars began to re-adjust their formations. They didn't expect this. She could hear panicked squawking. No, I don't think so. Not a chance.

The pegasus cone ripped into the unprepared mass of hussars. Dash winced with visceral disgust as her lance tore through a gryphon's throat. But she kept flying. She had to; the impact didn't even slow her down. She kept charging, kept flapping, straight on through, trying to guide her lance into and through as many gryphon bodies as she could. All around was a writhing, shrieking mass of wings and spears and lances. And suddenly, she was in the clear. She had flown through the gryphon formation. She looked behind her, and saw her lancers were still in formation--not quite a precise cone, but still intact. And below, the gryphons fell and scattered like flurries. Suicide charges? That's not what a pegasus does. A pegasus flies.

She scanned around. 100 meters to the northeast was a formation of gryphon heavy chargers, about equally matched to her forces. 100 meters to the southeast was another. They both hovered in a tight defensive formation. That's right. Stay right there, thought Dash. Either one of you flocks of seagulls tries to move, and we do this again. Far to the south-southeast, the main body of gryphon cavalry was now airborne.

She heard a husky voice over her shoulder. Spitfire's. "Well, Lieutenant, we did our part for now. I just hope everypony else does theirs."



Twilight shut her mouth. It had been hanging, slack, for the last 30 seconds. This was not right. The 3rd Cavalry were supposed to look like they were trying to delay the infantry advance to let the caravan retreat. That was the feint. That was the plan. Why would...Rainbow Dash. That was Rainbow Dash's unit. Why hadn't she remembered that? She suggested the 3rd Lancers to Luna because they had scored the best in inspection. If she had known it would mean sending Rainbow Dash to...oh, but it was too late for that.

And now Rainbow Dash had demolished a wing of light cavalry and was pinning two formations of heavy cavalry. And the lion infantry could still advance completely unimpeded. She was trying to deny the gryphons use of the sky over the infantry. It was a pure support tactic. Executed shockingly well, she had to admit, but a support tactic regardless.  Anypony with an ounce of military sense could see it wasn't a retreat. It was a battle, and now the gryphons had to know it. The ambush had been spoiled.

She lifted the binoculars to her face. The lion infantry were deploying, forming lines of battle. They were still a good half-kilometer from the pony lines. And they wouldn't know where the ponies were exactly, but they would be ready when they found them. The gryphon cavalry, too, was deploying off the flanks of their infantry lines. Playing it cautious, it seems. After Rainbow Dash's little display, it seemed the gryphons were reluctant to send cavalry out unsupported. Well, at least something good came out of that astounding act of insubordination. They weren't advancing, though. She raised an eyebrow. That was smart of them. But at this point, either the gryphons would have to advance or the ponies would, and ponies fought better on defense.

Twilight kept scanning. She couldn't reveal her positions until...until now. She had found her target. Twenty  gryphon cannons, in one square battery, all being hurriedly unlimbered and deployed near the rear of the gryphon lines. They hadn't even bothered to find high ground, or tree cover, or anything. And they were closely packed. Did they even know the ponies had artillery? No matter. They likely wouldn't give her such a gift again, but she wasn't going to refuse it if they were offering.

She lowered her binoculars, and gave her orders to the unicorn standing beside her. "Target, gryphon artillery battery. 15 degrees, range approximately 800 meters, that's an estimate, they need to range it themselves. Explosive shot. Commence fire immediately; do not stop until ordered." He saluted, and presently a bright, shining gold orb appeared above his head, blinking out the message in code. About twenty seconds later, from three points on the hill, there were two dozen flashes of light. And immediately after that, there was the sound. A cracking noise, as loud and painful as if her horn was being broken off. As if the Earth had splintered. In drills, she had heard one cannon going off at a partial load. She hadn't heard twenty-three going off fully loaded at once. She raised her binoculars again, watching the gryphon cannon. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Had they missed? Nothing. Wait.

A half-dozen shells exploded in a flash of light, in, on, above, below, and around the gryphon artillery battery. She couldn't tell what the damage was; too much dirt and dust and smoke had been kicked up. She kept waiting. After a minute or so, the smoke began to clear. She was amazed. Only four gryphon cannons were still being manned. The rest of the crews were dead, or wounded, or had fled, or their cannons were out of commission, she couldn't tell which. But regardless of why, the fact remained that she had nearly annihilated the gryphons' artillery in one volley. She had never read of cannon fire that was so effective. She was still staring in awe when there came another round of light-flashes. She covered her ears, but not in time. There was another crack, horrible and ear-puncturing and awe-inspiring. 

She issued another set of commands, her voice sounding dull and otherworldly to her pained ears, the volleys still ringing in her head: "Good shooting. Switch back to carcass. Aim at the center of the gryphon lines. Continue firing until they begin advancing. Once they begin to advance, fire at will, picking your own targets. If they stop, go back to hitting their front center. Mind the locations of friendly forces. Carcass is a really bad way for a pony to die. Or for anyone to die, really. No, stop. Don't send that. Please don't send that. Nothing after the part about being careful not to accidentally hit anypony." He saluted impassively, and his light began blinking again.

She peered through the binoculars again, in time to see the tail end of the second volley hitting. This time at least a dozen shells exploded in the gryphon battery, maybe more. She didn't need to wait for the smoke to clear. The gryphon artillery was out of the picture.

She lowered her binoculars and sized up the gryphon army spread before them. It was big. A bit smaller than the pony army, but gryphon armies were always small; conventional wisdom was that a lion was worth more than a pony in a scrap. Well...I guess we're going to find out exactly how much more, she thought, a thrill of fear rising in her. Yet their army stood still, unmoving, daring the hidden pony army to come out and fight. No, you're going to move. I have artillery and you don't.

A third flash. A third crack. Twilight's stomach churned. She dropped the binoculars and looked at the ground beneath her. She knew she had ordered it, but she really didn't want to see this part.



Applejack crawled through the grass. This clearly wasn't going to plan. First those pegasus ponies went off and did a bunch of fancy flying instead of what they were supposed to do.  Then Twilight's artillery opened fire instead of lying quiet until the ambush happened. Well. She didn't trust the pegasus fliers to do the right thing, but she was sure that if Twilight decided to give away her position, she must've had a darn good reason. She heard yet another series of cracks--the sixth volley she had counted--and shortly after, yet more shells popping open in more bursts of flame. More anguished screams. She shuddered, imagining what it was like to be suddenly covered in liquid fire. Well, they chose to come here, didn't they; it's not like we're killin' 'em in their homes. Aw, hell, that don't make it right. Only good thing about those cannons is they're not pointed at us.

She heard snare drums again. Guess they realized if they kept sittin' around they'd all get lit up. Took 'em long enough, bunch of featherbrains. Hmph. Good thing it took 'em so long, too; we're not even finished redeploying yet. She whistled twice, sharp and short: double-time. The ponies hurried their pace, and slid into position.

She watched the lions advance. They were close, now. But not close enough. They needed to hit with all three rocks. A little closer. A little closer. A little closer. To the left, a platoon of ponies kicked a volley of rocks. Well. Guess that's our cue.  She blew a long, sustained whistle. And then she lined up a shot and kicked.

The lions didn't bother ducking, or flinching, or hurrying their advance. It was, after all, only rocks. A thrown rock is practically an emblem of futile resistance, and as such the prospect of a line of ponies suddenly appearing and kicking largish rocks at them was far more amusing than frightening. But yet, consider this: an earth pony's kick is easily capable of crushing a skull or collapsing a chest. And a missile of any sort is fundamentally an energy-transfer device--it takes all the energy used to propel it, and deposits it into whatever it strikes. A rock propelled by a swinging arm is quite different in effect than a rock propelled by an earth pony's explosive kick.

The preceding paragraph is an academic discussion, touching on physics and psychology, neither of which were studies Applejack understood or cared to understand. However, the results were sharp and comprehensible to all parties involved, whatever their intellectual inclination. The ponies kicked rocks. The lions were standing in front of them. As a direct result of these two combined factors, neither of which would have been particularly noteworthy on their own, an interesting effect was produced: many lions fell over with a sudden inability to breathe, or to walk, or to feel their lower extremities, or to circulate blood, or, in some cases, to keep their brains inside their skulls. During the second volley of rocks, the lions were quite in shock over the effects of the first, resulting in the second having similarly murderous effects on their well-being. After the third, they apprehended the gravity of the situation, and charged.

A pony's kick is capable of killing, this is true. However, so are many things a lion can do. The lions leapt into the ponies' defensive lines, their numbers reduced significantly but their bloodlust heightened immeasurably. The first wave of lions were mostly dispatched with a series of well-aimed kicks to the head and chest; the ponies were prepared and had carefully timed their blows to the lions' leaps. However, the second wave of lions, coming seconds after, found a line of ponies that was off balance and flat-footed. They tore into the ponies with homicidal glee. The infantry battle, bloody and brutal, began in earnest.



At the top of the hill, Celestia watched the battle impassively. It hadn't begun as she had hoped, due to Rainbow Dash's predictable gross insubordination, but she had caught some breaks. Their cavalry was mostly unengaged out, likely of fear of more hidden lancers. Twilight's artillery had dispatched the gryphon artillery shockingly quickly--though the gryphons had practically invited it with their deployment--and had inflicted significant damage on their forces with those distasteful carcass shells. Plus, the line infantry was acquitting itself well enough; she liked Luna's ambush plan because it meant that the ponies' untested soldiers wouldn't have had to stand and face a lion charge. But yet, to Celestia's surprise, most of the ponies didn't break ranks and flee at the first sight of teeth. Quite impressive. But still, the infantry had by now been fighting for nearly an hour. She couldn't imagine they'd be able to withstand too much more.

Another volley of artillery, this one a ragged series of cracks as individual cannons fired. They were becoming undisciplined; they were firing as soon as they had loaded and aimed. It would lose the demoralizing horror value that massed simultaneous explosions had on a target, but she didn't expect them to be expert gunners their first battle. She didn't even expect them to hit anything, really. The fact that they had accomplished both their primary tactical objectives was quite impressive. Capt. Sparkle would certainly deserve a promotion. There weren't any more responsibilities to give her; the army only had 23 cannon at the moment, and Twilight was responsible for them all...but that was a problem for another hour. Shells burst randomly across the gryphon lines. Celestia frowned. Undisciplined, indeed.

She noticed gryphons massing on the left flank. So they were going to charge, then. She signaled her chief of cavalry. The old unicorn limped over. Celestia gave her orders coldly, still watching the gryphons intently.

"General. Send the First through Fifth Cuirassers to the left flank. Have them hold formation directly above our lines. Their primary goal is deterrance, but do not hesitate to order a charge if the gryphons commit. Have the First, Fourth, and Seventh Lancers engage in a hammer-and-anvil if practicable. And avoid having the lancers charge head-on. They wouldn't survive long enough to do any damage."

"Yes, princess." He bowed, and began to limp off.

"I'm not done yet, General," she said, in the same cold voice. "Send the Sixth and Seventh Cuirassers and all remaining lancers to the right flank; it looks like some of our infantry are starting to break. Have the cuirassers charge the gap immediately. And have the lancers ready to commit at a moment's notice. Now go." She turned to another aged unicorn, this one a mare. "That won't be enough. Our right flank needs to be reenforced. What do we have?"

The old warrioress coughed as she spoke. "We have over 500 recruits held in reserve, but they have had no training at all. We have nearly 800 light infantry we were hoping to use to cut off their escape during the ambush; they're also in reserve right now. And we have the Royal Guards. They're quite good."

Celestia shook her head. "We can't commit them unless the fight turns on it. They're the best weapon we've got, but we've only got 200 of them. It would be foolish to use them to plug a gap. The recruits would just break immediately. It'll have to be the light infantry..." She paused. Her heart softened momentarily. "...and I am quite sorry about that," she whispered.



Applejack ran, shouting furiously. "Ya...ya bunch of cowards! What're ya doin' runnin' off like that! The battle's still goin' on! The army needs ya!"

One of her soldiers shouted back over his shoulder as she ran, "the army's the one gettin' us killed out there! You said it yourself, they don't have a clue!"

She stopped, panting. Hopeless bunch of cowards. So her 5th Infantry of Line had routed, despite all the training. Despite all the honesty. Some repayment. Well. She'd fight, anyway. She wasn't a coward. She was an Apple. She turned back towards the lines. At least one pony in the 5th was going to stay to the end.



"2nd Light Infantry! Ooh! That's us, girls!" She put on a growly face. "Looks like we're gonna...oh. Um. Oh."  Her fierce expression evaporated.

"What's it say, Lieutenant?"

There was a pause. Pinkie looked up, sadly, from the parchment the pegasus had handed her. "Um...we're gonna go down there now. We're gonna...it says we've gotta fill a gap? I don't understand. That's line infantry down there. We're light infantry. We don't stand there while lions charge at us. We don't even wear..." She looked down at her cloth-covered chest.

"...Lieutenant? We're going down there? To the front line?"

"...yeah. Yeah, we are." Pinkie bit her lip. She closed her eyes. This wouldn't be easy. But she could pull it off. She had to pull it off. She could, if she just...there. Bingo. She did it. Her eyes sprang open.

"Yeah! We are," she repeated, now smiling, almost giddy. "because our buddies down there need us to! It'll be really hard, but we can totally do it. Because we're friends, and we're strong, and besides, the lions are probably really tired now! So let's run down there and kick 'em!" She pantomimed a kick as she spoke.

Her soldiers looked incredulous. They had learned to live with Lt. Pie's quirks, even to appreciate them, but this was insane.

"Now c'mon! Last one down's a rotten gryphon egg! Ha ha! Get it?" She bounced down, towards the front. Her soldiers followed, uneasy and afraid.



Dash scanned the battlefield below. She knew her lancers were tired. They had been flying and fighting for two hours. They had made seven charges against various gryphon formations that had wandered too far from the others. Each charge was successful, and each charge was made on her own initiative. By her reckoning she had taken over a thousand gryphons out of the battle, whether as casualties or as deserters. And after the most recent headcount, her sergeants said that she had lost only thirty-one ponies so far, and most of those were minor wounds. But they were tired. She doubted she could get more than one more charge out of them. Better make it count.

Hm. The ponies' right flank was faltering. Applejack's unit was over there. Maybe they could...hm. Reenforcements were headed down the hill. That should take care of things. But who was reenforcing? She had counted 30 line infantry banners earlier, and there were only 30 divisions of line infantry. Unless...

She squinted. Diamond banners. Light infantry. And...oh, no. No.

"PINKIE!" With a yelp, Dash was off. And her 3rd Lancers, surprised by the sudden flight of their leader, followed.



Twilight Sparkle watched, frustrated. The gryphon reserves had already withdrawn to just out of range. It took them an hour of getting pelted with carcass, but either their generals had relented or their soldiers had simply decided to take things into their own paws, and now they were safely beyond the reach of the Equestrian guns. As for the lines of battle, well, they were just one chaotic mass of ponies and lions and gryphons. She couldn't very well fire into that. 

Hm. Rainbow Dash's lancers were making another charge. She'd lost count of how many they'd made. At this point, she wasn't sure whether Dash would be court-martialed or be promoted to General of Cavalry after the battle. Wait, no...they just flew over the lines. Odd. Twilight picked up the binoculars. She'd gone back to the reserves, where three more wings of lancers were. Was she actually asking for orders after spending two hours completely ignoring them? She peered through the lenses. Dash was gesturing wildly--furiously--at the leaders of the other units. No. No, Rainbow Dash was not asking for orders.

Rainbow Dash was giving orders.

Her 3rd Lancers shot back towards the front. And then, to Twilight's surprise, so did the 2nd, 5th, and 6th. They overshot the lines, then made a wide, lazy-looking loop, so they were flying directly at the Gryphonic flank, parallel to the line of battle. But they were going up, or maybe down. It was strange. They weren't just charging straight in. And the lions saw them, but they weren't bracing for the charge. Almost like they couldn't tell where the pegasi were.

The lancers crashed into the Gryphonic lines. And through them. And the three formations of lancers behind them followed. They sliced through the exhausted and flat-footed lions, like a sickle through wheat.  They charged deep, deep into the enemy infantry. And then, as they lost their inertia, they pulled back, up out of reach. And they looped back. And they charged again. 

They offered even less resistance this time. The lions were going to break. If they didn't get reenforcements, their flank was going to collapse. Well. It was up to her to make sure the lions didn't get any reenforcements, then.

She turned to her signalpony. "I want a line of carcass shot--a solid line of flame--fired 100 meters behind the line of battle along the right flank. That's it. No other targets. Begin fire immediately, and don't bother synchronizing our fire. I want to make it impossible for the gryphons to reenforce that flank. Go."

A few lions at the far end of the line began to flee, as yet another wave of lancers crashed into them. They couldn't resist the charges, even though they knew they were coming. It was just a matter of time before the gryphons' flank collapsed. And then it was just a matter of time before their whole line collapsed.

Twilight watched in fascination. Rainbow Dash single-hoofedly started this debacle. Fitting she'd end it the same way.



"I didn't...I didn't order it, Princess!" the aged unicorn wheezed. "I had nothing to do with this!"

A sudden crack of artillery fire caught her attention. She lifted her head to watch. Surely Twilight wasn't going to fire into the...ah. She was aiming between the gryphon reserves and the lancers' flanking attack. Area denial. She had done her homework, as usual. She snapped her attention back towards the general, her gaze withering.

"Obviously you didn't have anything to do with this, General; it's actually effective. I want you to put everything we have into supporting that attack. Pull cuirassers out of the line. Throw the recruits at it. Throw the Royal Guard at it. Throw the Support unicorns at it, if they're handy. I want everything on that flank. Roll the gryphons up. We're going to end this fight now."

She looked back out at the attack. Her left and center were holding firm. And on the right, the lions were already starting to break en masse. It was almost over. It just needed one little push. One little push, and it would be over.

The Royal Guard flew down the hill, armor glinting in the sun.



------------



The sun hung low in the sky. Celestia looked out across the field. Charred pockmarks marked where the artillery fire had been. The unicorns were slowly dragging the gryphons' abandoned baggage train back to the camp. In impromptu pens, ponies were binding the legs of the lions who had managed to surrender. Ponies walked up and down the line of battle, finding the injured and carrying them to tents if they could be moved, or treating them where they were if they couldn't.

"Congratulations, your highness," an old unicorn said. "Quite magnificently done!"

Celestia kept staring out. "Why?" she said, simply and honestly.

"The battle, your highness," the unicorn said, a bit confused. "We won today's battle."

Celestia looked out at the line of broken bodies where the battle had been fiercest. She could hardly believe she had that many ponies in the army to begin with. There were thousands of dead. Thousands more were injured.

She looked out at the ponies tending to the wounded. She looked out at the ponies' camp circles, where the victorious soldiers sat, staring silently at their campfires, at each other. There was silence in the command tent.

"No, general. We won today's fight. Today's battle is only beginning."

> X. Westmarch, Equestria. November, 1251.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

X. Westmarch, Equestria. November, 1251.

The wind blew, cold and wet, a mist coating everything in a frigid dampness. Her workbench, her papers, her body. The tent may as well have not been there. Rarity shivered, and turned the collar of her flimsy coat out to protect her face from the chill. It was a futile gesture; her coat hung wet and damp, and everything it didn't cover was already soaked through. Her wet fur clung to her skin, and her mane drooped pathetically beneath her officer's cap. 

The pegasi had called in the misty rain as part of the evening's funeral ritual, to purify the battlefield from the taint of blood. Klainoz-tagr, in the ancient speech, cleansing tears: the ancient Equestrian method of seeking absolution for slaughter. By tradition it was to be invoked the same day as the bloodshed, but the ponies hadn't even cleared half the dead and wounded from the battlefield, and most of the wounded who were being treated were laid exposed on the ground, as the medical tents were overwhelmed. Rarity tried not to think of the thousands of anguished ponies shivering under damp blankets. After all, she needed to focus. She and her girls were working as hard as they could sewing camp tents into tarps that could be used to shelter the wounded. They had done much. There was much to do.

A middle-aged peach-colored unicorn stallion trotted up to her work tent and saluted. She returned the salute, not looking up from her sewing. "Captain," he said cautiously.  

She glanced at his uniform and then went back to sewing. "Sergeant," she replied, still working.

"We have a problem with some of the prisoners, ma'am."

She kept sewing as she replied. "You're a bit lost, dear. This is the 1st Support. You want the military police tent. I do believe that's 3rd Support...hm...I think they're back behind the canteen, perhaps? Yes, that seems right. Off you go."

"I...er...went there first, ma'am. They said you were the one to talk to about this problem."

She set down her needle. Her horn dimmed. She looked up, a bit irritated. "Sergeant, I am quite busy. In the event you have not yet noticed, hurt ponies are out in this awful weather, and somepony needs to sew new medical tents. So tell me. What--having to do with prisoners--do you feel is a more important use of my time?"

"Many of the prisoners are hurt and sick as well, ma'am. We've moved our most injured to shelter, but many of the enemy are dying in our care. I was told to come here and see if you could spare a medical tent and some blankets to give their most wounded some shelter and comfort."

Rarity's expression softened. "You're telling me those poor dears don't have anything? They're just sitting hurt in the rain with nopony to help them?"

The officer nodded. "Ponies need to come first. Once we've treated everypony, we'll save as many of the prisoners as practicable."

"But...but they surrendered! They're our guests now, sergeant. Surely we must treat them as we would our own."

The officer glanced around. "Ma'am, I don't make the decisions. I was just sent to find out if you have a tent and blankets you can spare."

Rarity thought a second, then called over to a creamy-pink unicorn mare. "Pvt. Bubblesweet?"

"Yes, Captain," she replied.

"How far are we on filling this requisition?"

"We've sewed and sealed 26 tents, ma'am. We have fourteen more left to make."

"Make it fifteen, Bubblesweet."

"Yes, ma'am."

Rarity turned back to the peach stallion, and spoke in a soft, somewhat hurried voice. "Yes, we can spare a tent for the poor dears. And...we'll say a hundred blankets. I'm sure they need more, but it's all we have at the moment. Take them and do hurry."



Rainbow Dash sat in the command tent. Before her, five unicorns and two alicorns. Beside her, nopony. Celestia spoke, her voice icy. "Lieutenant Dash. What were your orders?"

Dash bit her lip. "I did what was best for my ponies, your highness. And what was best for the army."

"Lieutenant Dash. What were your orders?"

Dash looked helplessly at the board, then at Celestia. "But...my orders would have killed all my soldiers. You saw; the lions had braced their spears and the gryphons were hovering, ready to pounce on us! My girls all would have died!"

"Lieutenant Dash, you were not asked for your opinion. You were asked a very simple question. What were your orders?"

"My...orders. Yeah. Okay. My orders were to charge directly at the enemy infantry, engage, and scatter in retreat. But--"

"Did you follow those orders, Lieutenant Dash?" She overenunciated the word "Lieutenant," making it sound like a four-syllable word.

"No! Of course not! I--" confusion, frustration, and seeds of outrage swirled within her. Why weren't they letting her talk about why she had done it? Hadn't she saved everypony?

"So you disobeyed a direct order. Is that what you are saying you did?" Celestia was terrifyingly cold.

"I-I-I...no! No! I buckin' kicked ass is what I did!" she said, gesturing to the opening of the tent, her stew of half-cooked emotions pouring out. "I won that battle practically by myself--taking almost no casualties in the process--and I don't understand what's going on! I...I...why are you angry?" She extended both hooves out in desperation.

Celestia stared, silently. Dash looked hopeful. Then the princess turned, her mane flowing gracefully, and spoke to her sister. "Luna. Please explain to Rainbow Dash the effect of her actions this morning."

Luna nodded, and stepped forward as Celestia returned to her spot behind the long desk. The younger alicorn spoke, her voice a grave tinkling of chimes. "By the positioning of our forces and our supply train, the gryphon army was led to believe that our forces were in a hurried and disorganized retreat. You were to engage in what would appear to be an incomptently botched screening action, which would embolden their soldiers to the point where they would begin a hurried and unguarded pursuit. Our army would then reveal itself, encircle them, open cannon fire, and then achieve either a rapid surrender or a quick rout, which would allow us to scatter them, permanently eliminating this particular detachment of the gryphon army as an effective fighting force. I estimated our casualties would not exceed one thousand dead or injured, and would possibly be significantly lower."

Dash shook her head, still confused. Luna continued.

"You instead executed a textbook-perfect cavalry support maneuver, in which, by destroying one light-cavalry formation and pinning two more, you denied the use of the skies to enemy cavalry, allowing our own cavalry to act unimpeded in that area of the battlefield, and allowing our infantry to maneuver and fight without fear of sudden molestation."

Dash nodded. That was exactly what she had done, and done well.

"In doing so, you alerted the gryphon army that our goal was not retreat but was to defeat them in a pitched combined-arms battle. The result was that they formed lines of battle. We had lost the tactical initiative. There was no ambush. There was a battle on roughly even footing. We won. But at least 7000 ponies, out of an army of 30,000, are now in medical tents, or lying helpless on the field of battle, or are dead. And that is largely on your hooves."

Dash's eyes were enormous. She felt sick. Horribly, horribly sick. Sicker than she had ever felt in her life. She had walked past the tents full of sick, hurt, dead, and dying. She had walked past the rows of dead, mangled and broken, their lifeless faces now permanently twisted in anguish. She had seen a cuirasser pegasus shriek in pain as his wing was being clumsily amputated by a novice unicorn surgeon. And now she was told it was her fault. All because she had been loyal to her girls. The nausea dulled a bit as a lightheaded faintness edged into her consciousness. 

There was silence. Luna returned behind the long desk.

Celestia then stepped forward. "Lieutenant Dash, you deserve to be, at the very least, stripped of your rank. You likely deserve far worse. Your actions, whatever your reasons, are stained with the blood of quite literally thousands of ponies."

Dash felt nothing, nothing but an overwhelming sense of sickness.

Celestia continued speaking, now a bit softer. "However, punishing you would, at this moment, be unwise. Only a few officers are aware of the magnitude of your crime. However, every pony in this army either is or soon will be aware of your heroism throughout the battle. You have cost Equestria dearly by turning an ambush into a battle, but, as you say, you did win the battle. You took a number of enemy standards while suffering few losses. Your commandeering of the cavalry in reserve, while strictly speaking an act of insubordination, was inspired leadership during a moment in which quick action saved lives that paralysis would have wasted. And your 3rd Lancers are, through their demonstrated skill and courage, the pride of the Equestrian Cavalry. We don't need another villain, Lt. Dash. We need all the heroes we can get."

Dash's head swam. She had no emotions. Just nausea; just disorientation.

"You don't deserve to be a hero, Lt. Dash. But you are. You've made a name for yourself, a name you've built on thousands of unnecessary deaths. The officers may be outraged by you, but the cavalryponies all respect you. You are hereby promoted to Major, and will henceforth be the commanding officer of all Royal Lancers of the New Equestrian Army. In battle you will continue to lead the 3rd Lancers; otherwise the unit will be under the leadership of soon-to-be-Lt. Spitfire. Congratulations, Major Dash."

Dash's numb sickness suddenly parted, and a thrill of horror shot up her spine. She began to babble. "No, but, no, Princess, your no your highness I can't no but I did it was all the injured ponies all the dead ponies no but you can't--"

"--I can, Major Dash, and I have. You've gotten everything you desired: the respect of the cavalry, fame throughout the army, the safety of the 3rd Lancers, and, of course, your promotion. Your first order in your new capacity is to head to the commissariat, bearing your new commission, where you will receive your new uniform, which you must wear. Whether you tell Capt. Rarity what exactly you have done to deserve it is up to you. Your second order is to visit the medical tent. The Expectant tent, please: where those poor ponies for whom medical care would be a waste of resources have been placed to suffer and to die. You are to walk among them for at least two hours, speaking to them and tending to their comfort. Whether you choose to accept their deluded congratulations on your heroism or to disabuse them of their dying respect for a hero in order to personally apologize for killing them is, again, up to you. Your third order is to deliver to Sgt. Spitfire her new commission as Lieutenant. I would highly advise confiding in her, Major. She is trustworthy, and now a commissioned officer as well. I am aware you desire her respect above all others', but she will be able to help you."

Dash tried to nod. She couldn't. She tried to speak. She couldn't. She could never live this down. She could never make up for this. She could never face the army again. She could never...but she would have to. And she would have to start with those who were soon to be dead on her account.

Celestia stepped closer and spoke again, now with her once-customary softness. "I know it will pain you to consider your actions, their consequences, and the values that have caused you to act as you did. Please, consider these things regardless. You will have questions. Search for answers. Lean on others if you must, being mindful of the responsibilities of your rank, but do not stop searching. War makes many heroes, Rainbow Dash. Some ponies earn heroism. Others stumble into it and must grow to match their image. Grow, Rainbow Dash. Reflect and grow." She looked fondly on the pegasus, and saluted. "You are dismissed, Major."

Dash saluted back, her hooves shaking, her body shaking. She felt emotion--unchecked, unadulterated, undifferentiated emotion--swelling through her body. And as she wobbled out of the command tent and into the cold, blowing mist, it erupted. She stumbled sideways, whimpering, and leaned against a crate. She let out a long, plaintive moan--a wail of desperation--growing louder until her lungs ran out of air, and it broke into a series of weak coughs. She laid her head on the crate, and she breathed in, deep and ragged. And she moaned again, hot teardrops running down her face and falling, down, into the frigid puddle below.



Applejack sat alone in her tent. She didn't have anything to say to anypony. Nothing at all. She had been honest with them. Honest with them all, because that was how she showed loyalty. She said what's true, no matter what, because she respected her ponies. And all she asked in return was that they be loyal to her, too.

But it didn't work out that way. Everypony she asked had said that they ran because the army was sending them to die for no reason. And everypony had justified that on what she had told them. She lay down on her bedroll. Did being a leader in a war mean being good at lying to ponies? How could she do that? 

She stared at the side of the tent for a very, very long time.



Pinkie Pie sat in the mist, dragging a hoof in circles in a puddle. Beside her lay Peach Cream. Pinkie ran her other hoof through her hair.

Sgt. Bubblepop sat beside her. "I...don't know what to say, Lieutenant. I just don't. That was...I don't know how to...it was awful. Awful."

Pinkie lifted her hoof out of the puddle. A film of mud clung to it. She wiped her limp hair out of her eyes, and then dropped the hoof back into the dirty water. And she spoke, quietly, softly. "I'm sorry, Bubblepop. And I'm sorry, Peachy. I shouldn't have laughed so much. I shouldn't have told you it was like a game. It wasn't fair."

Bubblepop shrugged uncertainly. "You didn't know, ma'am. None of us did, really."

Pinkie rubbed her eyes. "You can call me Pinkie today. Please. And I did know. Celestia told me. And when I was a filly my dad would sometimes tell me things about how bad it could get in other parts of the world, and how we should be thankful for how quiet it was on an Equestrian rock farm." She blew her nose into her sleeve. "And I just did what I did whenever I'm scared or confused or upset. I pretended it was okay."

Bubblepop looked back at Pinkie, her face betraying mild confusion.

"No, Bubblepop, I know! I know it's dumb. It's really dumb. But things always turned out okay back home if you just pretended they were okay to begin with. Because back home the only way bad things could happen to you was if you let them, and if you pretended you were okay, then you wouldn't let the bad thing happen. But here bad things happen even if you try really hard to make them not happen. And that means that pretending they can't hurt you doesn't help." She looked sadly at Bubblepop, then at Peach Cream.

Bubblepop spoke first, grabbing Pinkie's attention. "Ma'am. Um, Pinkie. Pinkie, right. Pinkie. It's okay. It helped some of the girls cope. We knew it would be bad. But we needed something to keep us going. Your...silliness helped, maybe."

Pinkie shook her head. "No. It didn't. It just made it worse when we came to the front. When Rosepetal got her tummy ripp--when she got killed."

They sat in silence.

"I don't know, Bubblepop. I just don't know. It doesn't make sense. We were sitting in the water, water up to our flanks, and Peachy couldn't say anything but how thirsty she was. Why does that make sense? And so many ponies are hurt, and so many are dead, and why? Why are we fighting? Why are the gryphons even here?"

Bubblepop started to respond. Pinkie wiped tears out of her eyes, and cut her off.

"Because a king somewhere else wanted part of his map to be a different color? Is...that it?" She whimpered. "Is that it, Bubblepop? That's all it is? That's it?" She lowered her head to look at the gently flowing ripples and clouds of blood in the puddle. Her back was to the misty wind, but her face was wet with tears.

"Maybe, Pinkie. I don't know. Maybe."

She kicked the water. "He shoulda bought a crayon." And she thought a bit, and then laughed, sharply and joylessly. "We shoulda sent him a crayon. Ha, when we show up at his palace, we should bring him a crayon. Ha ha ha. And I know just what I'll make it out of." And she put her head in her hooves, and she breathed heavily, and quickly, and raggedly, and loudly.

Bubblepop put a hoof on her shoulder. "I know it's hard, Pinkie. I know it's hard. But we'll get through it. I know we will."

Pinkie peeked through her hooves. "I'm--khh--not crying, Bubblepop." She choked back a sob, and wiped her bloodshot eyes clean of tears. "I'm laughing." And she lowered her hooves, and her face was a cold, helpless, miserable grin.

Bubblepop popped back in suprise at Pinkie's expression. 

Pinkie continued: "Ha ha ha. It doesn't make sense. None of it does! None of it! It's dumb. It's crazy. It's silly, silly, silly, silly, silly silly! It's all silly. The war is silly. That king is silly. We're silly. Ha ha ha ha ha. It's silly and we're here anyway! Isn't that funny? It's not! But I'm laughing! I'm laughing, Bubblepop! And it's not funny at all." And she bent over, and went back to her ragged breathing. Bubblepop honestly couldn't tell whether she was laughing, or crying, or both, or neither.

Pinkie popped up again with a start. "Why...why isn't everypony laughing? Don't they see? Look at Peachy, Bubblepop. Look at her. We told her she'd be fine. We told her that her wound wasn't that bad. We told her she'd be okay. And she believed us, Bubblepop! And now...oh God isn't it awful?" She stroked Peach Cream's hair again. "And now she's cold, and she's stiff, and she'll never laugh or smile or do anything but stare dead ahead, straight ahead, looking at nothing, feeling nothing, being nothing, nothing, nothing how can a pony be nothing that doesn't even make sense does it Bubblepop? Does it?"

And she laughed again. And she looked at Bubblepop, and she started crying again, sobbing, bawling.

"And--khh--why--hss ukh hhh--how come you aren't--khh hh hhh--laughing too?"



Fluttershy ran through the forest. She wasn't going to stop. Not now. Not until she found someplace safe, someplace where the war wasn't happening, where her friends weren't going to die, where ponies weren't going to die or kill. And if she didn't ever find that place, then she supposed that meant she wouldn't ever stop.



Rarity smiled to herself as she tied off the thread. The last tent was done. Everypony would be taken care of. Another job well done. 36 hours of work was at an end. Now, finally, she could sleep. Suddenly, the brassy sound of a bugle calling a general alarm pierced the promise of repose. She quickly stowed her sewing kit and ran out to respond, following the noise.

And when she reached the source of the disturbance, prisoner pen #18, she gasped. At least a dozen guard ponies lay mauled in a rough circle, next to a handful of dead lions. The pen was empty. And draped over the layers of barbed wire and spikes that formed the security barrier for the unmanacled wounded prisoners were a thick tent and dozens of blankets, all layered on top of each other, forming a safe path for anyone who might wish to climb out.

A unicorn military-police guard next to her shook his head, and pointed to the layered tarp and blankets. "Damned shame, giving them that stuff. Just goes to show ya: let up on those bastards for a second, and they'll thank you with their teeth."

Rarity looked at the dead guards, and then back at the impromptu escape route.

"...yes," she said, at last. "I...I see that. You can't give them anything." And she swallowed, hard. "Or somepony will get hurt."



Twilight sat in her tent, polishing her new star-and-crown insignia. Colonel Twilight Sparkle. Master of all Royal Artillery, present and future, in the New Equestrian Army. 22 guns right now, given the explosive misfire in Lt. Glow's battery at some point in the battle. But 31 guns next week, if the caravan wasn't intercepted. And more the week after, most likely. And more after that.

It was a rough battle, she knew. She only saw it from her vantage point, high above. And she hadn't walked through the front lines, or through the medical tents, or through the triage field. But she was so busy. She had debriefings to give. She had reports to write. She had to update the artillery field manual she was writing. She still hadn't met with the Princess to discuss the idea for an anti-cavalry shell that she had come up with. And there was so much more to do.

She was beginning to enjoy her work--at least when she was able to ignore the thought of gryphons and lions and ponies bent over, choking on the smoke from their own burning flesh. But she found that the work kept her busy, and that when she was busy she didn't have to think about what the work meant.

She set her uniform insignia down beside her. Dash had been promoted, too. Kind of a surprise, but she did do more than anypony else to win the battle. She hoped the rest of her friends were still okay. They had been down in the thick of things, after all.

And then she smiled. Of course they were okay. They were her friends. As long as they were true to themselves--to the virtues they embodied--nothing bad could happen to any of them.

> XI. Mt. Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. November, 1251.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XI. Mt. Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. November, 1251.

Broken feathers everywhere. Her fur matted and filthy. And razor-sharp talons. Gilda sat in front of her shattered mirror, resting her head in her claws. She didn't look as bad as little Frankie did, but by her father she never thought she'd be in such a state. And it wasn't just cosmetic. She was thin, thinner than she'd ever been. She was weaker, too, which surprised her; she figured she'd have gotten much stronger over her training. She didn't. She just learned how to better use what strength she had. The fighting style of a Talon, after all, wasn't to overpower the enemy; it was to strike first, to disable the enemy, and to draw back. Pure muscle was as superfluous as shiny fur.

Frankie suddenly burst open her door, singing her name. "Gilll-daaa, Rodric needs youuu~~~" As the door swung open, the raggedy little gryphon fell into an effortless front tumble as she came through the threshold, then sprang onto her feet with a half-twist. "Ha ha, you finally stopped locking your door! I wondered how many locks you'd go through! You made me look clumsy!"

Gilda smiled. "Kid, you couldn't look clumsy if you tried. What's he need from me? I gotta head out for more food or something?" She looked back in her mirror shard, and with her claws started picking out loose feathers.

"Nooo, no no no. We got a prisoner! They found her sneaking around the mountain or something," Frankie chirped, as she pranced over to Gilda's bedroll. She suddenly collapsed on it, as if someone had pulled out the pins holding her bones together, and then rolled onto her back. "They've been trying to make her talk for hours and they've got nothin'! Nothin' at all, if you can believe it! Roddy figured maybe your time with the ponies was gonna be worth somethin' if you could maybe get in her head, see what makes her tick. But I gotta say, I don't think there's anythin' tickin' in there!"

Gilda turned in her chair to face Frankie. "All right, kid, bu--HEY! GET THE HECK OUT OF THERE!"

Frankie suddenly sprung up, extending her wings, and did a midair somersault before settling down next to the bedroll. 

"Seriously, Frankie. The stuff in our rooms is all any of us got. Do the others let you hang out in their beds?"

"Nope! They beat me up something fierce when I try! But I figured since you're such a bad Talon you'd let me, y'know?"

Gilda sighed. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Where's Rodric now, anyway?"

"Mutton closet. Or what used to be, back when we had mutton. You know the place."

Gilda nodded, then got up and headed out of her dingy little rock-walled room. She headed out of the rest quarters and into a maze of twisty little passages, all alike, finally emerging into a largish hallway with an unnecessarily high ceiling. Before her stood a large, somewhat ragged but undeniably regal-looking gryphon.

She approached slowly, and bowed deeply. "Lord Rodric. I stand ready."

He rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, Twistbeak. We got stuff to do."

She popped back up, smirking. "Yeah, Roddy, the kid told me. A prisoner you can't crack? What, did your skinny little arms get tired after the first few punches?"

He made a show of acting insulted, to the point where Gilda suspected he actually was. "C'mon, Gild. You know me better than that. I can pull information outta anyone, man, anyone. I could get the pony queen herself to tell me which of 'er guards she screws within five minutes."

"Yeah, sure, and I bet you think you'd be first in line to replace 'em. So what's the story then. A tough one?"

"Well, sort of, but it's more like...well, you'll see. Anyway, I figured we'd try a psych angle, but I don't know the first thing about those stupid little horses. I mean, I try goading 'em, and I try shaming 'em, and they just stare at you like you're speaking Zebra or somethin'. Nothin' works but pain."

Gilda chuckled. "That's because you don't know the first thing about ponies, Roddy. A pony isn't a gryphon; it doesn't care about honor or rank."

"No honor? No wonder they're so awful. So what is a pony, miss scribe?"

"A miserable little pile of friendship. You either have to be their friend and gain their trust, or make it clear you're going to hurt somebody else they love and trust. That's it. So. Friendship's probably out if you've been beating the hell out of her; anypony that would get sent to infiltrate the capital would see through a good-cop/bad-cop routine. So what, or who, does she love?"

Rodric raised his eyebrows. "Gilda, I don't even know if this pony's capable of love. You'll see. Head on in there, and good luck." He winked. "And I'll tear your goddamned wings out if you fail, lionbait."

Gilda let it slide, and headed to the thick wooden door to the mutton room. She pulled it open, and entered the torchlit chamber.

There, in the middle of the room, a lavender Earth pony with a white and purple mane hung upside down. Gilda cocked her head. The pony floated completely unsupported. Gilda walked up, slowly. She cleared her throat. The pony twisted mid-air to look at her. She wore a vacant smile, and her glassy eyes rolled around her head independently of each other.

"So...they tell me you're not being cooperative. Maybe I can help you," Gilda ventured.

Ha ha ha ha another friend. A voice like giggling sleighbells rang in her head. I'm glad to meet you in person. At least I think we haven't met yet. Or maybe we won't meet until next month. I know we meet by then.

Gilda looked around, confused.

No that doesn't make sense silly, of course we're meeting now. I see you now. With my real eyes. But you aren't going to try to hurt me like the others did, so I think you're the one to talk to.

She cocked her head again. The training was finally getting to her. She had cracked up.

No ha ha ha you're not crazy. Nobody's crazy you know. Crazy is when you think things that don't make sense. Everything makes sense to the people who think it. Crazy is what people say when they can't see what other people have seen to make them think what they do. Your friend wants to talk.

Gilda hesitated, then looked back at the door. A voice called, as if cued, "See? This is just bizarre, man. Some sort of psych ops agent?"

Gilda turned back to the pony. No ha ha ha he doesn't know anything. Everything he knows is true but he doesn't know anything on his own so that doesn't matter does it?

Gilda shook her head violently, her eyes shut, and then looked at the pony and spoke. "Are--are you real?"

To me I am. People see me and I touch things and they move so I'm probably real. And I know I'm real but lots of ponies don't know lots of things and so they know things I know aren't true but what they know is just as true as what I know and they always say I can't be real so maybe I'm not if you're them. The pony kept slowly twisting midair, while keeping at least one rolling eye on Gilda. A thin line of drool fell out of her mouth.

Gilda stared as the pony rotated. "Jesus," she said at last. "I don't know what Celestia did to you, but it made you nuts."

Celestia didn't do anything to me. She knows to leave me alone. But she didn't leave Discord alone. That was sad. I don't like being sad. Nopony does. You made lots of ponies sad, Gilda. Why did you do that?

"Knock it off. I'm asking the questions here," she snapped.

I don't like you. You don't think before you speak. It makes your words a surprise unless I've seen them earlier, but right now I can't remember this conversation so I'm always surprised. I don't like being surprised.

"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises. So what were you doing here?"

I was here because I remembered being here now. So I came here because it's a bad idea not to be where you are.

"That doesn't make sense. Like, at all." She shrugged. "Look, if you're actually nuts, you're not useful to us and we'll kill you. If you're pretending to be nuts, then drop the act, talk to me, and I'll ensure you'll stay alive."

The pony swung one eye down to the ground. The other raised to take its place. Her unearthly grin stayed fixed. I told you already I'm not crazy. No, that was now. I'm not crazy. I just see things you don't. But it's okay. You can do things I can't too. That's why I'm here.

Gilda turned around. "Yeah, you're nuts. Celestia probably just sent you here to get rid of you. I'm out. See ya at the execution, chuckles."

You're not going to leave the room. I told you Celestia knows to leave me alone. Pay attention. And I know you're avoiding thinking so you can surprise me, but thinking will make you smarter. Look at me. I'm floating at a three-quarters angle in front of you while speaking without talking. And I know everything. You should be curious about me. If you thought you would be.

Gilda turned back. "Yeah. You're right. You're damned weird. I know I should leave and tell Rodric to execute you, but--"

You want to know what I know.

"--okay, sorta, yeah. I have no idea what you are--"

Ha ha me neither.

"--but this is too nuts to just sweep away."

I knew you'd come around. Well, no, I didn't know that. It was a good guess.

"You said you knew everything, nutbar."

Not all at the same time silly. That wouldn't even make sense.

"...whatever. You got a name?"

Lots! I like 'Screwball.' It's funny.

"Okay, sure. So. Screwball. What do you want? Other than to 'be where you are,' which, by the way, is totally useless."

I want you to help me. You will. I don't know why right now, and I don't know if asking you is a good idea, but I did, so I will.

"Yeah, and I want the crazy magic pony to start making sense, but she won't, so she won't. That how we play the game?"

No that was redundant. And I'm not crazy. You need to pay attention. You can't help me if you don't pay attention.

"Help you do what? And no, I'm not making an offer, and I gotta say I'm probably not ever going to."

Of course not. I will ask you. And I want you to help me escape, because I need to be free and if I free myself your friends won't help us do the next thing you're going to help me do."

"I see how this works. The thing I'm going to help you do, which you remembered, but which hasn't happened yet, but which you've current forgotten about. That right?"

No. I couldn't forget this part.

"Okay. Shoot, Screwy."

First, I need my hat back.

After that, you and your friends are going to help me kill Celestia.
> XII - Forestland west of Fillydelphia. December, 1251.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XII - Forestland west of Fillydelphia. December, 1251.

Scootaloo trudged forward through the frost-covered grass, her hooves scraping against the frozen dirt. She hadn't eaten anything in a day. She hadn't had a full meal in a week. And her clothes were as threadbare as her malnourished fur. She wrapped her wings tighter against her body. Her throat and lungs stung with the cold. At first, she thought the war was cool. Then, she thought the war was awful. Now, she tried not to think. It was easier to keep going if you turned your mind off.

Beside her, Apple Bloom stumbled and slumped to the ground. Sweetie Belle nudged her with a shoulder. "C'mon, Apple Bloom! We only got another few miles to go. You can make it!"

The earth pony filly struggled to stand up, her knees threatening to buckle underneath her, and at last managed to get back on her feet to the encouragement of her friends. She took another step, and another, and then collapsed again, this time letting her head hit the ground with an audible crack. She raised her head again, tried to push herself off the ground, then dropped her head back to the ground. "I...can't do it. I just can't."

"You have to! You have to! You can't give up," Sweetie Belle pleaded.

Applebloom didn't move. She spoke quietly and calmly, matching her speaking to her breathing. "It ain't a matter of givin' up...I promised Big Mac...I'd ride these legs till...they wouldn't ride no more...now they won't...I ain't given up...but I can't go on."

Scootaloo sidled up next to Apple Bloom, and glared at Sweetie Belle. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Sweetie looked confused. "I don't--what are you--"

"It isn't gonna help her any if you just stand there! Help me lift her up. We'll have to carry her until she's stronger."

Sweetie looked at the ground. "Scoot...I can barely walk any more too. I can't carry half a pony three miles."

"So? You think I feel any better? C'mon. We can't leave her."

Sweetie Belle looked behind. Nopony was there; they had fallen behind the group. She looked ahead. The old, grassy trail through the forest curved, making it impossible to see how far back they were.

"Oh--okay, Scoot. I'll help. But I don't know if--"

"Stop thinking, Sweetie. And help me."

Sweetie nodded. The two fillies got low to the ground, and pressed their shoulders under Apple Bloom. Together they lifted her up off the ground, and together they staggered forward.

"You're really heavy, Apple Bloom," Sweetie Belle said.

Apple Bloom spoke a few words with each shallow breath. "Am not...you're just a weak...lil' unicorn...'sides, if anyone's heavy...its you...what with all..the food you steal..."

"I don't steal food," Sweetie said cautiously.

"Yeah you do," Scootaloo said. "We both know it. It's all right. I eat some of it out of your bag at night."

Apple Bloom laughed weakly. "No wonder...y'all are stronger right now..."

"Anyway," Scootaloo continued, "This isn't so bad, is it? I mean, it's warmer, being all pressed together."

Sweetie Belle didn't say anything. She started to trip over a rock, but caught herself. Just then, a large red pony came trotting round the bend. When he saw them, he broke into a gallop.

Big Mac came up beside them, hooves clopping against the frozen earth. "Shucks, I told the Captain we shoulda put you girls in a cart. I knew y'all weren't to be trusted with measurin' your own strength. All right, Apple Bloom, on my back." With that, he picked her up by the scruff of the neck with his teeth, and then plopped her on his shoulders. She slumped forward, front legs wrapped around his neck.

"You two girls okay for the next couple miles?"

Scootaloo nodded. So did Sweetie Belle, but a bit hesitantly. He looked back at them for a second, then turned and began walking slowly. They walked alongside him.



-------------



The bivouac site was quiet, per usual. Ponies huddled around fires and tried to fight the cold, the biting, penetrating cold, the cold that swept through the night, through the camp, through the coats, through the skin, through the flesh, through the soul, the cold that hurt body and mind, that felt like the sun had left and would never return, the cold that felt like the slow, static death of the frozen world.

Derpy scootched close to her newly built fire. The dull numbness in her nose and ears and limbs began to melt, leaving a stinging frostbitten pain. Mac came up beside her and sat down.

She looked up at him. "Are the fillies all right?"

"Eeyup. Got 'em in front of a fire. Gave 'em some of the extra blankets we pilfered this morning. They'll be okay."

"You were right about the cart, Mac. They're too young to keep up," she said, a bit quieter.

"Eeyup."

They sat together, quietly. After a few minutes, he began speaking, still looking at the fire. "We can stick 'em in a cart, but they ain't the only ones who fell behind today. They're just the only ones I could carry."

"I know. Davenport's been doing headcounts. We lost another 7 ponies today, whether dead or deserted." She paused. "Either one's the same thing out here, really."

"What's that put us at?"

"132, but over a third of that are ponies we've picked up in the past few weeks. At this rate we won't be able to call ourselves the Ponyville Militia much longer. Though...I was thinking about a name change, anyway. It's not like we sit around saying we're defending our home town like most of those other militias do."

"Shouldn't we, though? With respect, a'course. That's why the ponies signed up. To protect their homes."

Derpy shook her head. "Mac, please, not you too. We can't just sit at home and wait for fifty thousand gryphons and lions to show up at our door. We've got to fight them where they are, every day. We all do. If everypony fought, they couldn't possibly stand against us."

Mac spoke cautiously. "That's what the army's for, Captain. They won a battle, hear tell."

Derpy's expression hardened as she stared into the fire. "No. It's what we're all for. The army's job is fight them in battles. Everypony else's job is to make it so they can't fight. That's what we're doing. What we need to do. What everypony needs to do."

They watched the flames dance.

"I'm going to start recruiting, Mac. You're right; ponies think a militia is for home defense. We're going to be an army. We're not going to change what we do. We're just going to change the way we sell it. A pony might think she can go home because the militia left Ponyville. A pony isn't going to walk away from an army lightly."

Silence, again.

"Captain, you ain't losin' ponies because they're homesick. You're losin' 'em 'cause they're starving and freezing. All the duties in the world can't keep a pony from dyin'."

"I know, Mac," she said, a bit impatiently. He was so...distant. So critical. Like even he was unhappy with her. Not her leadership. Her. She pushed away the thought. "Obviously I've noticed the situation. Obviously..."

She trailed off as she pulled a map out of her worn mailbag. "Look. Here. Valley Foal, twenty miles northwest of Fillydelphia. We're going to make winter camp here. I've sent pegasus couriers, the ones who can still fly, to all the nearby militias. We're going to try to combine under my leadership. I figure we should be able to get about a thousand ponies, all told."

"Valley Foal? Those ponyfolk won't take kindly to a thousand ponies showing up on their doorsteps askin' for food and shelter."

Derpy's eyes narrowed. "They're collaborators, Mac. Everyone around Fillydelphia is. They didn't put up any resistance at all."

"They're still ponies. They just didn't want to get their homes razed like Stalliongrad...or Ponyville did."

There was silence. She looked at him.

"No, Mac. Please, listen to me." She touched his shoulder with a hoof. "Everything we're going through. That's what ponies do. They're not ponies. They're gryphons with hooves."

Mac looked away. "I don't like it."

Derpy grabbed his face with a hoof, and gently pulled it towards her. He didn't resist. "Mac. Please. Please. This militia is falling apart. If I don't do something, we're going to starve or freeze or scatter, and the gryphons will win. Please. Please. I'm carrying this myself. All of this. I know we have to do things that don't feel good but we have to do them."

He said nothing. His eyes refused to meet hers. She continued. "I know it's not pretty. The prisoners. The night raids. Turning away the sick and starving who come to us. All of it. We have to do it. And I can't keep taking all the responsibility. I can't do this alone. Please, Mac. I trust you and I know you're a good pony. I need you to say I'm doing the right thing here. I need you with me--on board with me. I need you, Mac. Please."

He effortlessly batted her hoof off his face, and then turned to look back towards the camp. And then he looked back at her, finally making eye contact.

"All right, Captain. You're right. We gotta do something. But I still don't like it."

"Mac, no, please," she said, her voice pleading. "I can't do this by myself. I can't be the only one who has it all on her conscience; I can't be the only one giving orders to do bad things and having everyone say, 'no, I don't like it, I don't agree, but I will because you're captain.' I need somepony to say they're with me. Not because I'm the Captain but because... because... because I'm me and I'm a good pony who does the best she can."  A tear ran down her cheeks and froze to her fur.

Mac looked at her, his expression difficult to read. "I support you because you're the Captain. And you're the Captain because you're a good pony. Now, I told you, I agree we have to do something. But I don't like what it is we have to do. And I won't pretend to like it because you're the one saying it."

"But--why not? Why can't it be that way?" she spat out, then immediately regretted it.

Mac's face softened. "Captain, you're a good pony, and I like you because I think you do good things, but...it don't work the other way around, if that's what you're askin'. Look, I'm gonna go check on the girls."

He stood up, and walked away from the fire. She watched him as he left, then looked back at the flames flickering in front of her.

It didn't work that way with most ponies, no. But she wished it did with her.



---------------



Bon Bon limped after Lyra, calling after her in her Manehattan twang. "Y'can't leave! Y'can't leave me alone here!"

Lyra shook her head with resolve. "I'm not. I'm going home, where I belong. If you want to leave me and keep starving with Derpy in this forest, then yeah, go ahead. Go right ahead. But I'm going home."

"But there isn't a home! They burned it, everypony said so. Please, it'll get better. I know it will."

"Only because Miss Crosseyes decided to play war! I'll rebuild the entire town by myself if I have to, but I'm going home."

Bon Bon shook her head sadly, her scarred face frowning. "...d'ya love me? Still, I mean?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Lyra. D'ya love me."

"Yeah, of course I do."

"Even though I'm scarred. Even though I limp like an old mare. Even though I'm bony and weak and my mane is patchy. You still love me."

Lyra looked aside. "...yeah."

Bon Bon took a step closer. "Then why you leaving me? I told you. This militia, it's our home now. I nearly died for it. I can't walk away."

"Home? And lemme guess, Crosseyes is your mother, now?"

"Don't you call her that. She's the only reason we're still alive."

"No! God, you're as bad as she is! She's the only reason half of us are dead!"

"Lyra. I'm staying. I wantchu to stay. I joined up because I love ya and want to protect ya. You joined up because y'loved me and didn't want me to go alone. You stayed by my side when I was injured because y'loved me and didn't want me to suffer. I stayed by yours when you caught fever because I love ya and don't want ya to suffer. Please. We've been through so much together. So much because of us. Please don't tell me it's dead." She kissed Lyra on the cheek, gently. "Look, sugar. I'm going back to our tent. I wantcha to follow me. But if you don't, I...understand. I won't say goodbye. I'll just say...I still love you, no matter whatcha pick."

And Bon Bon turned, and as good as her word, she walked back without a glance over her shoulder.

Lyra sighed. She didn't know if she loved Bon Bon any more. She didn't know what she felt. About anything. If she felt anything about anything besides hunger and cold and exhaustion.

But whether out of love or duty or friendship or respect for years of quiet devotion or fear of dying alone on the long trail back home, she found she couldn't leave. Not tonight. She slung her bag over her neck, and headed back to the tents.



---------------



First Proclamation to the Equestrian Army of Free Ponies

General Derpy Hooves

Given at Valley Foal, Dec. 1251



These have been times to try ponies' souls. In the breeze of summer, in the glow of the sun, all may proclaim their love for their homes. Yet in the desolation of a snowless winter, in the bite of an unleashed wind, we are forced to weigh just how dearly we value Equestria. A pony may be judged by what she values, and a pony who values Celestia and freedom to be cheap trinkets to be discarded at the first inconvenience is a pony who does not deserved to be called by that name. You who stand before me are those ponies who have sworn with your failing bodies and your untarnished will that your Princess and your homes are worth fighting for: worth fighting the gryphons, worth fighting their willing slaves, worth fighting the winter--worth fighting to the death.

But yet we are at a time of crisis. We have little food. We have little warmth. Our fur is unwashed and louse-ridden. Our blankets are falling off in tatters. We can clothe ourselves only in perserverence, can warm ourselves only with dedication, and can secure food to nourish ourselves only through daily acts of selfless heroism. Our bodies have never been weaker. 

And we have never been stronger.

Our fight against the gryphons has never been one of numbers; there are five ponies for every subject of the Gryphon King. And while few of his slaves can be made to join his army, each and every pony can fight. Our numbers mean nothing, for in the thaw of spring thousands will swell our ranks. No, numbers are not our fight. Our fight has always been one of dedication--whether we can muster the will and the courage necessary to stand and defy an army of tyrants. And in this frozen crucible, our souls have been shattered and reforged, free of doubt and free of fear. We are few in number, but make no mistake: we are now an army, as fearsome as any in Equestria's proud history. We will survive this winter. And come spring, we will emerge ready to deny the gryphons Equestrian food, Equestrian houses, and Equestrian land.

The gryphons sit happily in Fillydelphia now. They grow fat, enjoying our cakes and fruit. They grow drunk, enjoying our sarsaparilla and hot chocolate. They grow complacent, enjoying the servile ponies who tell them Equestria would sooner lay down its freedom than its lives. They will emerge from their hibernation of the soul unready for struggle. And at that instant, we shall repay them a hundredfold for each pain we have have suffered.

We are cold. We are hungry. But though it is dark, a new sun is rising. A sun raised not by a Princess in a castle, but by a hundred thousand hooves working in concert across a country. And this sun will bathe Equestria not only in light, nor only in warmth, but in freedom. We shall be the first to raise it. And we shall be remembered, for centuries upon centuries, as the first and greatest of our generation. For it is we who will bequeath that sun not only to our friends and neighbors, but to our children, and to their children, and to their children, and to theirs, and to all ponies to come, now and forevermore.

> XIII. Mt. Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. December, 1251.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XIII. Mt. Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. December, 1251.

The single torch flickered, casting a faltering light on the hallway outside the mutton locker.

Rodric stepped back. "So the King's on board. But I'm not. The King gives the missions, but I say how we follow 'em. And I don't like bringing your insane pony god around with us."

Gilda shrugged. "I don't think Screwball's insane, and she certainly isn't a god. But she's related to one. She once claimed to be 'created of like essence' by Discord, which I guess is possible. She didn't remember saying it two minutes later, but she said it. And whether it's true or not, she's still a pony."

"You've lost me, Gil. She floats and talks in your head and sometimes she talks about the future like it's happened and the past like it hasn't. Is she a god or isn't she?"

"I think she's a pony with the spirit of a god in her. It's a power she can't control, or even imagine controlling. She's entirely limited by what her body can do. That includes cognition, memory, and of course most physical limitations. But she still has a god's divine link to the Flow, so she can--"

Rodric interrupted. Gilda reflexively stopped talking. "--lost me again, Gil. I didn't spend my life reading pony mythology."

"It's not pony mythology, Rodric. It's like a--no, no--here. It's the source of magic. It's the source of consciousness. It's an infinite well of sheer potential. Your mind is a bit of Flow that's been pinched off that sits in your brain. When you do magic, you're channeling a stream that you're siphoning the Flow. That's why individuals are well suited to some types of magic and not others; it's much easier to channel the Flow in ways that are attuned to your consciousness. It's most evident with the Cutie Mark manifestation of personality that ponies exhibit, but all sentient beings-- "

Rodric brushed his crest back as he interrupted again. "--Criminy, Gil, no wonder the King sent you down here. Probably just bored as hell with you and thought the idea of some book-stuffed scribe babbling at us would be funny. Gimme a straight answer: what is Screwball?"

"Her mind is a pony's. Small and limited, because that's what her brain can hold. But her link to the Flow is unlimited. Life for her is an endless array of input: the future, the past, other places, everything. And she can do plenty of magic. It's easier for her to use magic than to use her body to do things, really. All in all, she seems to consider the world around her, including her actual body, as a...as an amusing afterthought."

Rodric leaned back. "Okay. So she's a pony, and she's nuts, and she's really powerful. And we should all just trust her and work with her on a mission of world-shaking importance, because the insane pony we captured says she just wants to kill her queen." He paused. "Gilda, you're as nuts as she is if you're telling me that's a good idea."

Suddenly, there was a familiar tinkling of chimes in their minds. Hello again. This is where I come in to help you!

Rodric and Gilda turned abruptly towards the mutton locker. Screwball was floating in the doorway, right-side-up for a change. Her bindings were nowhere to be seen.Rodric immediately stood up and charged at her. Silly birdie, chimed Screwball. He leapt at her in a controlled fury, baring his talons to strike.

Suddenly, he crashed face-first into the wall on the opposite side of the room. We're working together now! Gilda told the King what she had to and you and Gilda had your conversation so now we're teammates. Teammates work together!

Gilda ran over to help Rodric up. He was already on his feet. "If you're going to attack a Talon, pony," he growled, "you better be ready to finish the fight." Gilda tried to hold back Rodric. He shrugged her off, and charged again. This time, he rolled before he struck, and leapt up in a compact, sudden strike.

And this time, he crashed into the ceiling, and fell back awkwardly to the ground in the middle of the room. Rodric. You're being a very silly bird. Gilda, please make him stop. Gilda looked worriedly at Screwball; the pony licked her lips and her mouth fell into her customary little smile.

Rodric picked himself up again. "I've killed unicorns before, pony. Unicorns more powerful than you. Unicorns that play the same tricks."

Okay!

He paced closer, slowly, menacingly. "You're not a god, are you? You're just a kook with a few tricks."

Maybe. I dunno.

"I didn't trust you from the beginning. The pony-loving King and his scribe might. They might love to read those damned pony books and fantasize about pony gods infighting. But I'm not going to hand the Talons over to some nutty hoofbeast."

Hm. This might be a problem! I don't remember what I did here. And I don't remember if I see you again.

"Here's a hint, nutty. You don't." With that, he suddenly leapt into the air, spun, and with a precise gust from his wings blew out the torch. Gilda followed his flight path instinctively through the darkness with her eyes. Yet where she expected the sound of an impact, she heard nothing.

After a few seconds, she heard that tinkling voice in her head. Uh-oh. I think this is a problem. I really don't remember what happens now. Gilda, please light the torch. And don't be angry. That won't help anything!

Gilda walked up to the torch by memory and lit a match. She did it quickly and confidently; it was one of her duties to light and extinguish all the torches in the compound. As the bundle of sticks caught flame, she checked around the room. Screwball floated on her side, eyes rolling around rapidly, her smile a little frown for the first time Gilda had yet seen.

Gilda looked around the room in a panic. It was empty. Of chairs. Of tables. Of Rodric. Of everything that had been anywhere near her. "Screwball," she said sharply. "Where is Rodric?"

I don't know.

Her heart quickened. "What did you do to him?"

I sent him away.

"What?! Where?! Is he okay?!"

Probably not. There's a lot more places where he isn't okay than where he is. Her dead little smile returned. If I ever see him again I'll let you know!

Gilda staggered back. "You--you killed him?"

Maybe. Probably I guess. I mean, odds are he's in space or buried a mile under the ground or something. The rock seems most likely. I usually see rock more than I see space for some reason. Ha ha I bet you never really think about how thin the world we live in is. Most of what I see is just empty.

"Why did you do that? Why didn't you just...put him to sleep or something? Or put him somewhere else in the room again?"

I couldn't see the room. 

"So what? Jesus, Screwball, you can't just...just..."

I couldn't remember where the room was. I just remembered that something was about to hurt me. So I sent it all away to one of the places I could see.

"Oh my God, he was right. You are dangerous. You're dangerous as hell."

Don't be mean! He wanted to hurt me! And his mind was a complete block and I couldn't see him at all so there was nothing else I could do! The tinkles took on an ominous undertone. Gilda we are friends and teammates and I remember we're going to work together but sometimes what I remember is just something that might have been true and isn't.

"Are you threatening me? If I act up you're gonna kill me like you did Rodric?"

No, she chimed, the darkness in her voice evaporating, because we will work together and kill Celestia like we said we would! Ha ha ha, isn't that great?

Gilda ground her beak against itself. Screwball was clearly a threat to anything around her. But if she had been captured, it had been willingly. And if she wanted to hurt the gryphons, she could do a hell of a lot of damage on her own. Why else would Screwball be here talking to Gilda if not to get her help against the ponies? Well. Gilda couldn't very well turn the pony down. Not without threatening her own life. And if they succeeded, she'd be a hero--the type of hero who gets whatever she wants as a reward. And who gets forgiven, to boot.

After a few tense seconds, she spoke. "Yeah...yeah, okay, Screwy. We'll work together. So what do we need to do?"

We need some books. And we need someone who can fight well and who won't be mean like Rodric was. And now that Rodric is gone...we probably need to go now. You still have the king's letter on your desk; get that too. We should go before the others get angry at us.

"Okay, yeah, yeah, sure. Sure. Jesus, okay. So we're going on the run from the law or something? Badass antiheroes trying to save a world that hates them?"

No. You have the letter. I don't know your laws but you make the policegryphons happy by showing them the letter. But your friends will be angry and they do not read the letter.

"Okay, okay. Gotcha. Yeah. Should we bring Frankie? The little one? She won't be too hung up on the details, I don't think."

She is the little ugly bird?

"Well, I guess you could call her that, but...."

Hm. She might be the right one!

"Okay, yeah. I can talk to her. What about...what about the books? What books do I need?"

What kind of books do you like? Do you like romances? I've heard people read romances. What are they?

"What? Books, Screwy. The books you said I need. Just now."

Oh! I forgot. I don't know. Books. You read them. One's red.

Gilda grunted in exasperation. "Not helpful. I can't take every red book in the library."

We're looking for some old magic. Zebra magic. Magic that blocks my sight and my mind and everything else but our real bodies.

"Okay, that's helpful. We need...something that interrupts the Flow?"

Maybe! I don't know though. You're the one who thinks in words.

"Okay. Yeah. Sure. I'll see what I can get on that. I figure we've got at least a few hours, maybe even a day, since there's no body...unless you dropped him in the throne room or something dumb like that. I should be able to round up some books and get Frankie on board and get you Rodric's waybag. Jesus, Screwy, I can't believe we're--yeah. Keep it together. There anything else we need?"

I need my hat. Screwball began slowly rotating around the room, her eyes rolling around deliberately. It's not here.

"I told you I don't know where it is. Can't you just like zap it back to you?"

I don't know where it is either.

"Okay, I'll ask around again before I go. But we've gotta start preparing....and Screwball. You said you couldn't forget that you wanted to kill Celestia. And you know that we work together. Do...do we succeed?"

I don't know.

"You don't know much."

I know that right now there is a farmer who visited Manehattan to see his nephew, but his nephew wasn't there any more, and now he's trapped and has run out of money to buy food and cannot leave because the roads are dangerous. I know that there are 59 birds in one square mile of the Silvertail Forest. I know that the Walruses have ended a clan war with a marriage of feuding chiefs' children. I know your lungs are a little sick but gryphons don't show symptoms of illness until they're nearly dead. I know that there are over 2000 children of various species laughing right now. I know that about 10,000 ponies have experienced an orgasm within the past hour. But I don't know what happens after we get the magic from the Zebras, because the magic makes me not see.

Gilda raised an eyebrow. "The farmer. In Manehattan. What's his name?"

What's whose name? I don't know who you're talking about.

Gilda nodded. "...yeah. Okay. I got it. Keep it together, Screwy. I'm going to get Frankie and the stuff we'll need. I'll meet you back here in a couple hours."

Ha ha it won't take that long but thanks!

"...yeah. You're welcome, Screwball."

Gilda turned and walked back towards the maze of twisty little passages that led to the rest quarters. Suddenly, she saw another gryphon coming out. It was Marjorie, Rodric's second-in-command.

"Hey, Gild," she said in her husky voice. "Roddy asked to talk to me about that crazy pony you won't shut up about. He's outside the mutton locker, yeah?

In a flash, Gilda cracked Marjorie's unsuspecting head against the wall, then in the same motion slit her jugular as she fell. She stared at her own blood-coated talon, then at the unconscious gryphon hemorrhaging on the floor.

She climbed into the tunnel while looking over her shoulder, still watching Marjorie's bleeding neck. Then she snapped her attention straight ahead, and broke into a full sprint through the passageway. Yeah. Okay. Screwball was right. This would have to be way, way quicker than a couple of hours. 
> XIV. Trottingham, Equestria. January, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Westmarch Wilds, Equestria. January, 1252.



The flames cracked and spat, filling the cave with a lovely warm glow. The smoke gathered near the high, soot-stained ceiling, leaving the air beneath lovely and pure. Fluttershy lay happily near the fire. She stretched out on the grass bedding she had gathered, absentmindedly nibbled on it, swallowed, and and yawned. A family of field mice in little brown western hats squeaked next to her. She gently extended a wing over them.

It was cold outside. So cold. Colder than she had ever known, really. She used to ask herself why Celestia had brought such an awful winter, but then she remembered that she wasn't back there any more. She was in Lovely Cave, where everything was safe and warm and everypony was nice to everypony. She didn't remember naming it that. Lovely Cave just kind of became what she called it. It was a lovely cave, after all. It was cozy, it was secluded, and it was comfortable. It went back way, way far, but she hardly ever explored it. She had so much to do in the main chamber. She painted pictures on the walls. She made nice crafts for her friends. She went out to find food.

A rabbit in a pink sweater bounced up to her and nuzzled against her. She smiled, and shifted her weight, letting him grab and eat a choice leaf that had been under her chest. She took such good care of her friends here in Lovely Cave. And they all were so nice to each other. Not like...well, not like caves and other places that weren't so lovely. If they existed, ha ha. But maybe there was nothing but Lovely Cave! That would be okay. Sometimes she wondered if she was the only pony there was. Wouldn't that be nice. That would mean she was the mother to a whole new world--a world of lovely friends who were always kind. 

A blue jay flew up to her, wearing the little rainbow-colored hat Fluttershy had stitched for him. She smiled at her handiwork. She thought it was a nice design, though she couldn't quite put her hoof on why. It took so long to make, but the birdie sure seemed to like it. That's probably why the design was so appealing. Because the bird liked it. Of course. She kissed the jay on the head. The jay chirped sweetly in response, then flew off.

She sighed happily. Things were so nice in Lovely Cave.



----

Trottingham, Equestria. January, 1252.



The wind whipped around the quaint wooden houses and over the rough cobblestone of old Trottingham. It had once been the seat of a petty kingdom. Then, the jewel of a duchy. Then, the most elegant city in the Westmarch. Then, a creaky city with a glorious past and an eye towards decadence. Then, all but evacuated as the Gryphonic army came near. Now, the winter quarters of the New Equestrian Army.

Col. Twilight Sparkle walked through the street, keeping close to the windward buildings. A lone dead leaf blew off an otherwise-naked tree, and landed on her face. She blew it off with a puff of warm breath, and huddled a little closer to the walls on her right. Soon she came up to a particularly large and elegant storefront. It had once specialized in fashionable apparel. It now housed the commanding officers of the New Equestrian Army Royal Cavalry. She smiled. A month in winter camp, and she had finally come up with an excuse to pay her a visit.

She swung open the door, jumped in, and then shut it quickly behind her. She needn't have bothered: the building was nearly as cold inside as it was outside. She grumbled a bit under her breath as she realized she wasn't getting any warmer. She knew firewood was becoming scarce, but not heating officers' quarters was a new frontier in frugality.

She made her way up the staircase and into one of the lofts. There, under a few blankets and in front of scattered diagrams and papers, was Rainbow Dash.

"Maj. Dash! Glad to see you! Gosh, it's been forever!" Twilight bubbled. "We've been so busy, and I know you have. Why, we've hardly said a dozen words to each other all month!"

"Colonel," Dash replied, not looking up.

Twilight smiled. "Um...yeah! So anyway, things have been going all right with the artillery, you know, just the standard practicing, ha ha ha, so, same with you?"

"Nope. Can't fly. Too cold and windy. Got 'em doing ground agility training." Dash narrowed her eyes at the scroll she was writing on. She shook her head and crumpled it between her hooves, then tossed it at the little oil lamp next to her. The paper burned quickly and cleanly. She pulled a blank scroll out of a bag and began writing.

Twilight stuck out her neck a bit. "Um...Rainbow Dash? It's me. Twilight Sparkle. How are you?"

Dash kept writing. "Fine, I guess. Busy."

"Yeah?" Twilight took a step closer.

Dash glanced at her and rolled her eyes. "Okay, if you want to know, my first adaptation of my flight manual was practically useless; I didn't realize I'd have to teach my subordinates how to fly, too. I thought I could just tell them what to teach and they'd know how to teach it. Turns out I've got to teach them, too, and entirely through paper. Frustrating as heck."

"Ahaha, me too," Twilight said, her smile widening. "I mean, I didn't actually have a problem with it, of course, but I did have to account for the fact that my subordinate officers would not be able to draw on my personal knowledge when preparing training manuals. It's difficult, huh?"

"Yeah." Dash put down her pen. Twilight's eyes perked up. Dash picked up a different quill, and with a hoof pulled a vial of red ink near her. She dipped it in, and began writing. Twilight's spirits dropped a bit.

"Rainbow Dash. What's wrong? Why don't you want to talk?"

Dash shook her head. "It's pointless, Colonel. What matters is whether I follow orders, because bad things happen when I don't. I'm going to follow them. And that's it."

Twilight grunted in irritation, then barked an order: "Fine. Major Rainbow Dash, I hereby command you to talk with me!"

Dash looked askance at her. "Is that a lawful order? You can do that?"

Twilight put on a poker face. She had no idea. "...Certainly. So! Terrible weather we've been having."

Dash shrugged and looked out her little window. "Well, yeah. They haven't ordered us to do anything about the clouds, or the wind, or anything like that. Not my concern why." A little cloud drifted slowly above. She squinted at it. "Hey, Colonel. Look at this."

Twilight walked up to the window. "What do you see, Rainbow?" She put a bit of stress on the last word.

Dash pointed with a hoof. "That cloud. It wasn't there yesterday. And it's moving. But I don't see anypony moving it. And it'd be a bitch to get up there in this weather."

"Huh!" Twilight said. "I don't see anypony either. What do you think--"

Dash turned from the window, shrugged, and cut her off. "--I'unno. Celestia hasn't said anything about the weather situation as far as I know. Are we done talking?"

Twilight forced cheeriness. "No, Maj. Dash. Not yet. How are you and Spitfire getting along?"

Dash swallowed, and looked to the side. "Lt. Spitfire follows orders. And she knows what she's doing. The 3rd is safe in her hooves. I'm glad she's taking care of..." Dash trailed off, smiling a bit, then something changed in her expression. "I mean I am pleased with her performance so far. She's a good soldier."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Twilight looked down, and bit her lip. "Rainbow Dash... why...why don't we all eat together any more?"

Dash pulled her head back. "I--well--I--it's improper. Or, I don't know. Something. Duty comes first."

Twilight looked away sadly. She spoke softly, so softly Dash could barely hear her. "None of us do. You're all so distant now. Are you all angry with me?" She looked back at the pegasus, her eyes welling beneath her crisp white-and-gold cap.

Something in Dash melted. Dash stood up, shrugging off her blankets. Her uniform was rumpled underneath, like she hadn't taken it off in days. Dash spoke in a halting voice that threatened to break. "Twilight. I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. But...I did a really, really bad thing at the battle. A really bad thing. And I did it because I was my ponies' friend instead of their commander. I put them above my duties. And I can't do that again. I can't let myself do that again. I want to be your friend. But I can't be right now. Not until this is over. I really am sorry, Twilight. I really am."

She walked up to Twilight as she spoke, and wrapped her neck around her old friend's. She whispered the last line in the unicorn's ear. And then she stepped back, saluted, and went back to her her papers.

"Dismissed, Maj. Dash," Twilight whispered back. Dash didn't notice. Twilight turned, and walked sadly down the stairs and out into the wind.



Twilight Sparkle looked placidly around the tent city. Not everypony could get a house, of course. She felt a bit bad that some of her friends were shivering in tents...but, well, shivering in a house really wasn't all that much different, come to think of it. Less wind, maybe. Her thoughts were interrupted by seeing an orange-yellow pony in a simple gold-dyed uniform coming around a mess tent.

"Well, Colonel Sparkle! Fancy seein' you 'round these parts!" Applejack trotted up happily, her smile peeking out from behind her wide-brimmed (and non-regulation) hat. She lifted its brim to reveal her eyes. "There we go. Keeps the chill out my face but sure makes it hard to see. So what brings you to the line infantry camp?"

Twilight smiled enthusiastically. "Hey there, Applejack. I managed to beg off the day, and I thought I'd visit my friends...since, you know, it's been so long since you all stopped coming for our lunches." She sounded a bit more reproachful than she intended.

"Oh. Well. Er...everything's fine! No problems to report. Nothin' that would hurt yer morale a'tall."

Twilight put on an exaggeratedly cross face. "Oh for the love of...look, AJ, we've done this before. You're a terrible liar. Now tell me what's wrong."

Applejack sighed. "Twi, I ain't lyin'. There's just nothin' you need to be worried about."

"Don't say that! I'm your friend, remember? If you have a problem, you can tell me."

"Er...it used to work that way, Twilight, I know. But things're different in war. Loose lips 'n all that. I'm sure y'understand."

"Applejack! Come on. How can we be friends if we don't share with each other?"

"War ain't about friendship, Twi. Sayin' things has consequences, so 'less I been ordered to say it, I ain't gonna say it." She smiled apologetically. "You take care now, y'hear? Don't want you gettin' all worried sick 'bout things ain't yours to worry 'bout. Don't want you...y'know...runnin' off into the woods like somepony did."

The reference to Fluttershy hit Twilight like a cannonshot. She froze for a few seconds, then spoke. "All...all right, Applejack...but if you do want to talk about anything, feel free to drop by."

Applejack nodded. "Sure thing, Twilight. And if you get a chance--actually, forget it. Forget it. Never mind. Don't worry none 'bout it. We're fine, and I mean that."

Twilight took a step closer. "What? What is it? Whatever it is, I'd be happy to."

Applejack chuckled. "Yeah, everypony's always happy to hear about problems ain't their business, ain't they? And then what happens, huh? Nah, Twilight, I misspoke. Our business is our business, and your business is your business. But you take care. I'm serious, sugarcube, you're lookin' a little bit sick right now." And with that, Applejack walked on past Twilight, and down a trail.

Applejack was right. Twilight did feel sick.



Twilight sat in front of a campfire, her mouth full of stale cupcake. "Pinkmfgh. Thss'zz rellagh good Whrr dd you geth this?"

Pinkie giggled. "Silly Twilight! Swallow first, then talk! Didn't your mother teach you better?"

Twilight swallowed. "Heh, sorry. I--"

"--anyway, we got 'em from the cellar of this a boarded-up place! It used to be a bakery I think, because it was just full of great stuff! Flour and sugar and vanilla and everything! I bet whoever owns it would be really mad at me! But they're probably dead." Her eye twitched slightly. Twilight didn't notice. "So I started baking, and ha ha I just didn't stop until it was all gone. I mean, what kind of friend would I be if I only made enough for some of my girls and not all of them. But go on, have another one! They're already going stale, I know, but they're still good. If we don't eat them though they'll all go to waste."

Twilight floated another one over to her mouth and took a bite. This one was soft and spongy. "Mmm, Pinkkggh! Thss'm'z rllagh ffghresh."

"Of course it's fresh, silly, you took it out of the middle of the box! That's where the best ones are. Ooh, this one looks nice." She tossed one up in the air with her teeth, then caught it on her tongue and ate it in one bite, sending ripples through her long, straight mane. "...mmm, yeah. Real nice."

"Wow...you know, Pinkie Pie, I've just got to say: it is so nice to see you're still Pinkie Pie."

"Well, yeah! Who else would I be? Rarity? Ha ha I don't have a horn, that wouldn't work. Would I sew with my tongue? Actually, I bet I could sew with my tongue. Hm. Let's see, do you have a little twig or something I could--"

"--no, Pinkie, I mean...like, the others are all acting weird. Fluttershy ran off, Dash is pretending she doesn't even have friends, Applejack is friendly enough but she won't say anything...I don't know."

"Oh, that's not good! Ha ha, it's kinda like when Discord made us all crazy! Remember that? Grr, I'm crabby and I don't like to laugh ha ha that was so dumb!"

Twilight became thoughtful. "I...no, not quite like that, Pinkie. I mean, yeah, sorta. But...it's like, back then, Dash wasn't Dash. She was somepony else. Somepony different. And you weren't you, and Rarity wasn't Rarity, and none of us were us. We were all like evil opposites."

"Uh-huh! Totally dumb!"

Twilight set her half-eaten cupcake down on the ground. "But now...Dash is still Dash. She still feels the same things. She still thinks the same things. But she doesn't act like Rainbow Dash did in Ponyville, because we're not in Ponyville any more. I think that's scarier, in a way. Because we'll never be back in the same Ponyville anymore. Like, we beat Discord by reminding each other of what was real--of who we really were. But the war is real. I can't make the war...you know, not have happened. We've still seen the things we've seen. Am I making sense?"

Pinkie laughed.  "You bet! Ha ha ha." Her eye twitched again. Twilight blinked in mild confusion. "Like, just last week, Nightwhisper--she's one of my girls--got frostbite while standing on patrol. She didn't have a hat for her ears because it had rotted off her, ha ha. Isn't that dumb? How does a hat rot!? It isn't food! Sure doesn't taste good! And believe me, we've all tried to eat 'em on marches. No good. Ha ha. Silly."

She twitched again. This time the whole side of her face spasmed. "So anyway. After her shift she came to the fire to warm up, and her ears were colored all wrong, and they started to hurt really bad once she got near the heat. Anyway, it got infected I think, because it spread and and and and and she got sick and and and she died this morning. Ha ha ha ha ha." She shuddered as she laughed, her eyes slammed shut. A tear ran down her face. "She was a really sweet pony too. Really nice. Ha ha ha, it's so random! I think she's still in her tent. I haven't told the other girls yet. Ha ha, I bet they think she's alive right now!  They'll be really sssss really sad to find out ha ha ha but not half as sad as I am because it's my fault I should have sent someone who had a hat I just wasn't thinking i'm so dumb and she's dead and i killed her dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb ha ha ha dumb dumb dumb ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha dumb ha ha ha..."

Pinkie rocked back and forth, laughing and crying and hugging herself as tightly as she could. Twilight stared. Not at Pinkie. Not at the fire. Not at the cupcake. She just stared.



-------------------------------



A single, small log burned in the fireplace. Sitting in the study of the mayoral house, Celestia checked over the figures. They couldn't be right. They had triple-checked the logistics of making winter camp here. With some light requisitioning from the nearby villages, there would be enough food to last through March--more than enough time. But at the current rate of consumption, it wouldn't last through the middle of February. She checked the figures again. No, the supply rate was what was expected. So were the local reserves. Consumption was way, way up, though. No, attrition wasn't the problem; stocks were where they were expected to be given what ponies were eating. And ponies were eating...there. There was the problem. They used the summer rate of consumption. Damn them, they used the wrong reference tables. A pony in winter obviously has to eat more than a pony during the campaigning season. Anger flushed through her. Incompetence. And incompetence that the entire army would have to suffer.

And they would have to suffer it. They certainly couldn't go on the march again; every day they'd lose ponies by the hundreds to starvation or hypothermia or desertion or Gryphon raids.  They could send supply wagons further out, but already they were being sent further out then they could reasonably protect, and sending them any further afield would mean even higher losses to enemy raiders. They could try to open a direct supply line to the Southmarch, but the Southmarch was already overrun with refugees, and she was already getting reports of mass starvation. Taking their food would have to be a last resort. The Gryphon armies camped in Fillydelphia and outside Canterlot made it impossible to get food from the north, center, or east.  They could increase their efforts to find and exploit stores of food in the area, but unless they happened to find a magic mountain of hay...it was inescapable. They'd either have to start slowly starving now, or starve completely in mid-February.

Two months of slow hunger and death. Or a month of bare sustenance followed by a month of nothing at all to eat before the spring grasses came in.

She shook her head, staring at the figures, willing them to come up with another solution. She shivered, and magically draped another blanket around her shoulders. She wished she could do something about the cold. About the winter. She could theoretically return to Canterlot and force the sun to shine on Equestria until the grasses grew again...but that would just be inviting capture. No. It would have to be a natural sun, for better or for worse.

She looked over the charts yet again. For better or for worse. No matter how much worse that would be.

> XV. Valley Foal, Equestria. February, 1252
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XV. Valley Foal, Equestria. February, 1252

He wrapped his old blanket tightly around his body.

Caramel could tell that the air wasn't as cold as it had been, and the wind didn't blow quite as hard as it had. But he was still as cold as ever. He knew part of it was that he simply couldn't hold on to body heat, given how thin he was, but then...well, there was the matter of his clothes and his blanket. He simply didn't own clothes any more; months of dirt and wetness and wear had turned them from comforts into embarrassments into useless strips of rags. All he had left was his blanket. And though he hated to admit it, even that was headed down the same road. It was filthy. It was ragged. And it was the only bit of protection he still had against the winter.

He felt a sudden stinging. It must be the damned lice; the blanket and his fur were teeming with them. As if he wasn't miserable enough already. He scratched himself through the blanket with a hoof, and then drew his legs closer to his chest. It would be another hour before marching drills, and he wanted to stay as warm and as still as possible.



---------


One week later


The gryphon sat in his makeshift cage, cradling a broken wing, glaring out from between the gaps in the gnarled planks. His feathers were broken where he had been beaten, and blood leaked out of torn bloodfeathers and split skin. Derpy stood in front of him, on the other side of his prison.

She spoke, gently. "I honestly don't want you to be hurt."

He gestured to his crippled left wing. "Yeah, thanks, crosseyes. Clearly."

"I didn't say I wasn't going to let you get hurt. There's a difference. If you cooperate with us, we'll send you back to your friends."

"Yeah, you'll send me off with a kiss, won't you? Like I'm going to believe that knowing what you do to gryphons who surrender? Look, sister, I'm not one of your hooves-for-brains ponies. I'm not that damned stupid. Once I talk, I'm useless to you, and we both know what you do to gryphons you have no use for."

She remained conciliatory. "I'm not going to defend our resistance to your invasion, and I'm not going to ask you to defend your invasion. I'm offering you a deal, which you can take or not. If you don't take it, you get beaten until you give up or your body finally breaks and you die. If you take it and I'm honest, you get released. If you take it and I'm a liar, you're painlessly executed. Either way you gain nothing by silence."

He wiped his beak with his claw. "I'd rather die as a gryphon than as a traitor."

She looked him over in silence. Her attention lingered on his face, where defiance burned behind a ragged curtain of blood and swollen bruises. This one wasn't going to break. It was hopeless.

She took a step closer, and spoke just above a whisper.  "I understand. I hope your ancestors forgive both of us." The gryphon scoffed.

She turned and walked over to the guard post. A large light-blue stallion saluted. "General," he said curtly, "are we to resume interrogation?"

She shook her head sadly. "No, Sgt. Lucky. No, we're not. He's not going to break. Not ever. Schedule him for dawn, please. There's no point in hurting him any further."

Lucky paused on the edge of speaking, then looked over at the cage. "You...you know what they do to captured ponies, right? With the white-hot spikes? I'm not saying we should, y'know...but it just seems like a waste to kill an enemy officer without finding out what he knows."

"We're not going to do that," Derpy said flatly. "A quick death is one thing. Torture is another. And I am not going to torture."

Lucky tossed his head towards the cage. "And what do you call this interrogation? It isn't 'torture' to beat him until he dies? Torture's just a word, General, a word that's keeping you from getting anything out of him."

Derpy drew herself up as tall as she could. She was physically far smaller than Lucky, but somehow still towered over him. "No, Sergeant. We are not going to torture him. I need to draw the line somewhere. I've drawn it."

Derpy saluted and began walking back to the commandeered house she used as her headquarters. The stallion saluted as well. As Derpy walked out of sight, he signaled to the other ponies on guard duty.



-------



The ponies dug in the frozen dirt, their hooves scraping against the rocklike ground. Caramel worked, sweating in the chill, digging with the rest. He didn't mind the work; the army needed new latrines, and somepony had to dig them. Besides, it was invigorating. Usually. He shook his head a bit. He was feeling a bit off, though, and it didn't feel like it was just hunger. No, it couldn't be hunger. They had each gotten to eat a generous amount of fresh bread that morning: part of a gift from the nearby community of Saddlebourgh, they had been told. Nice of somepony to support the ponies fighting for their freedom. Anyway, he still felt a welcome sense of fullness in his belly. But something else clearly wasn't right.

He noticed the dull pounding in his head. He wasn't sure how long that had been there. All day? No, maybe not. No matter. He kept digging. It was getting hard, though. He coughed. He kept digging. He coughed again. It wasn't to clear his throat through. He paused, and realized he was a bit short of breath. Could he really be getting weak from hunger? No, no, he'd eaten better this week than in the past few. Maybe...maybe...

He was a bit lightheaded now. He felt an oncoming sense of panic. This wasn't right. He was fine an hour ago. No. He was fine now. He was just tired. Just a bit tired. He had been working all day.

He could barely stand. He sat down, his neck bent forward, breathing quickly and shallowly.



-------



A shaft of morning light shone through Derpy's window, illuminating the nearly barren room in which she slept. Sitting in front of her little desk, she sipped her mug of hot water, and picked up her brush again. She carefully guided it, moving her head, lips, and tongue, deftly swirling brushstrokes across the page. Another stroke. And another. A broad swirl. A flurry of little dashes.

She pulled back her head and looked at her work, rolling the brush in her mouth. A rough likeness of Dinky looked back at her. She smiled. It wasn't the same. But it was something. She leaned forward and blew on the slightly misshapen face of her painted daughter, then leaned a bit closer and kissed it softly.

And she closed her eyes, and exhaled, and sat silently, her head bowed.

Suddenly, a rapping at the door. She jumped up in surprise, then walked over the the door. She opened it. A familiar tan face looked gravely at her.

"Lt. Davenport," she said warmly. "Do you have something to report?"

"General Hooves," he said in an even tone. "A 'Sgt. Lucky' has some information to report regarding a prisoner."

"Hm?" she replied. "We've only got one, and he should have been executed hours ago."

"He insisted this information was for your ears only, General. Shall I send him up?"

"Er, sure." Derpy turned and returned to her desk as Davenport went down the stairs. She had just finished cleaning up all evidence of her attempt at art when there was another rapping at the door. In the open frame, Lucky stood saluting.

"Permission to enter," he barked.

"Granted," she said, saluting back.

He bounded up to her. "We know everything, general. Everything. This guy must have been pretty high up, because we know all the roads their supply trains are taking next month, and their approximate defenses. We've got 'em by the balls, General. Er, if you'll forgive the expression, ma'am."

Derpy felt sick. "He...he didn't just tell you all that."

Lucky smirked. "Of course not. But he talked. We saw to that."

"You...you tortured him."

"I got information out of him. Information that can help us beat these bastards."

"You tortured him."

"Yes." Lucky raised an eyebrow. "And now we know where their supply trains will be. We can cut 'em off."

Derpy nodded silently. "Um...all right. Can you write?"

Lucky shook his head.

"All right. Was anyone else present at the interrogation?"

"Two other guards. Privates Bluebell and Sundrop Dew. They heard everything he said too; you'll see. They'll back me up. He talked, all right."

"Is...is the prisoner still alive?"

"You did order his execution, General. We obeyed the order."

Derpy nodded. "All right. Thank you. Get Bluebell and Sundrop Dew. Bring them to this house, and dictate to Lt. Davenport everything you know. Everything. And dictate the techniques you used, in detail. I want to be able to better adjust our interrogation regulations and guidelines; I see now that our previous standards were not adequate to the situation. Thank you for your loyalty to the good of our young army, Sergeant. And rest assured I will do everything in my power to ensure the good of our army as well."

Lucky smiled proudly, saluted, and trotted back down the stairs. Derpy sighed deeply. There was only one thing left to do.

She walked downstairs and met Davenport at his desk.

"Lieutenant," she began. He looked up from his paperwork. "In a few minutes, Sgt. Lucky and two other ponies will arrive to detail their unlawful interrogation of a prisoner last night. Please write down every bit of information they got out of the prisoner, no matter how incidental or contradictory. On a separate sheet of paper write down their admission of the techniques used. When they have said all they can, blow your whistle three times. Guards will enter to arrest the torturers. They will be tried, imprisoned, and possibly executed. Do you understand?"

He looked uncomfortable. "You're going to use the information they got and then kill them for giving it to you?"

"No, Davenport. I'm going to use information I have been given to advance our cause. And then I am going to enforce our legal code in a just and lawful manner."

"Yes, ma'am."

She saluted and walked out of the house. She would have to pick the guards she used for this with care; she had the feeling that this kind of operation could lead to mutiny if handled rashly.



------



Caramel shivered and sweated under his blankets. All around him, dozens of ponies did the same. The army hospital--a repurposed barn--was full of sick ponies, each with the same chain of symptoms. A sudden onset. Headache. Exhaustion. Muscle pain. Fever. A rash covering the skin, visible through thinning fur. Delirium. Stupor. Death. Or recovery. But often death.

Typhus, it was called. He had heard the word before. He didn't know what it meant. He still didn't. He was just cold, and he hurt, and he couldn't think straight. He floated in a haze of misery.

He had felt better that morning. Well enough, in fact, that he could think straight for the first time in days. Well enough that he was able to appraise his situation and feel fear. Well enough that he had begged Nurse Redheart to tell him he'd live. But not well enough to prevent him from relapsing into the dull haze within two hours.



----

Lucky spoke to the audience of fifty-some ponies in the little sawmill, now repurposed to an impromptu courtroom. He spoke in a halting, nervous voice, but it wasn't his voice Derpy was concerned about. Two ponies, per custom, were writing down every word of the proceeding. Rather than punish them outright, Derpy had elected to try Lucky, Bluebell and Sundrop Dew under Equestrian law according to the Equestrian rules of order. That, she thought, would make clear the moral necessity for the sure-to-be-unpopular act of punishing soldiers--who had just recently been volunteer militiaponies--for uncovering valuable intelligence. But that also gave the defendants a public voice. And that could be dangerous. He reached the end of his final argument.

"I should like to direct my final remarks not just to the court, but to my fellow volunteers. This courtroom and this trial are laughably hypocritical. There is no legal precedent for declaring a sawmill a courtroom. But yet we are here. Why? Because the nearest actual courtroom, in Fillydelphia, is the winter quarters of the Army of Gryphonia. The necessities of war forced General Hooves to redefine what was right and legal given our extraordinary circumstances. Along similar lines, it is the standard procedure of this army to execute uncooperative prisoners of war, or prisoners the General feels would be inconvenient to care for. This is contrary to Equestrian law as well, but yet we do it and we are right to do it, because the necessities of war forced General Hooves to redefine what was right and legal given our extraordinary circumstances."

Derpy watched impassively. She knew this would be their argument. She had mentally prepared for it by now, yes; it was obvious this would be their case from the first hour of the trial early this morning. Still, she knew this argument would resonate with many ponies. She felt a few tugs of doubt--about whether this trial was a good idea. About whether punishing the torturers at all was a good idea. But it was too late in the game for doubt. Lucky continued.

"And the necessities of war forced Bluebell, Sundrop Dew, and myself to recognize that what is right and legal must be reconsidered when an enemy--an enemy who destroys and murders freely throughout half our country--holds information that could save the lives of thousands of ponies. What this trial comes down to, I am afraid, is whether it is more important that soldiers be free to fight this war, to repuse the gryphons, and to save their sisters' lives, or whether it is more important that the utterly inconsistent personal moral principles of our esteemed general be unoffended. Thank you."

Lucky's voice echoed in the cold, dusty chamber. He bowed awkwardly, and then sat down. Bluebell whispered something in his ear. He nodded, and smiled faintly at her. Sundrop Dew hugged him gently. Then all three defendents sat rigidly behind their table as Derpy took the floor.

She spoke plainly and simply; there was no point in trying to rabble-rouse a small jury of ponies with legal training, and all the emotion she could muster wouldn't change the way her army read the transcript.

"The defendants have built their case on their belief that law and war are fundamentally incompatable. The legal and moral case against their crime is unambiguous, and on that basis your vote to convict is mandatory. However, they claim that they have the right to declare the law fraudulent in times of war. They have said we as an army can only survive if we exploit every expedient, if we mortgage every principle, and if we sell our souls to obtain any possible advantage, no matter how small or illusory. I do recognize and appreciate that, at times, necessity forces us to do things that would have been unconsciable and unimaginable to us a year ago. We are all aware that I have ordered many things that weigh heavily on my conscience, and that may weigh heavily on the conscience of all Equestria. I will likely order many more such crimes to be committed, for failure to commit them would be consent to the commission of still greater crimes. But that does not make such actions right.

"The defendants claim that because of the extreme circumstances of war, questions of 'good' and 'evil' are irrelevant. They could not be more wrong. It is true that we must often do what is evil, but such necessities do not invalidate the very notion of morality--not even from a practical perspective. For we, as ponies, do not draw our strength from sheer brutal strength as gryphons do. We draw our strength from our souls and from our relationships, in a very real and very powerful way. If we were to fight as a gryphon fights, we would lose the war utterly, for a pony cannot be a better gryphon than a gryphon could. But if we fight as a pony should fight, we are indestructible.

She stopped to think about what she was saying. She was operating without notes, and while she had plotted out the argument she wanted to make, she felt it beginning to slip away from her.

"So we get to the core of the issue. Is torturing a prisoner to extract information about enemy logistics a necessity that must be reluctantly pardoned to ensure our survival? Or is it simply an expedient by which we may sell our ponyhood for a gryphon's knowledge? If it is the former, then this trial is misguided and the defendants should be pardoned. But if it is the latter, the defendants have put the very foundation of this army at risk, and must be punished.

"So ask yourself. Are there no other ways by which information can be acquired? Would our Fillydelphia spies not have found this? Would our pegasus scouts or informers in the countryside not have noticed a train of 300 wagons rolling through Equestria? Knowing that most prisoners have been cooperative, would no other prisoner with that information have talked? And is the danger of not knowing the specific route of a certain supply train so great? What the defendants have done is expedient, yes. But what they have done was not necessary. And as a necessary evil is still an evil, an unnecessary evil is an evil as well--it is an evil that must be punished.

She paused again. This wasn't going as well as she had hoped. Even she wasn't entirely convinced in herself. Without the energy of a crowd, she wasn't sure what was effective and what wasn't. She continued, her eyes closed.

"Because we are ponies. And we fight because we are ponies. We do not fight simply because we prefer hooves to claws. We fight to rule ourselves because we believe that ponies do what is right. If we cease our struggle to do what is right, simply because there have been times when we could not do what was right, then we have forgotten why we fight."

Derpy exhaled deeply and suddenly, and returned to her table and sat down. The courtroom was silent. She felt a sense of ease. It was out of her hands now.



-----



Caramel slept a waking sleep, his eyes and mouth hanging open, his mind empty. He became vaguely aware of a whitish pony standing in front of him. He tried to tell her...something. He needed something. But he didn't know what he needed. Or who she was.

He tried to speak. His words didn't even sound like words to his own ears. She shushed him gently, and wiped his forehead with a small towel. He wondered briefly who was standing in front of him, but as she moved out of his sight, the memory of her faded into the fever mist.



-----



Derpy painted halfheartedly in her office, her mind wandering back and forth over the hundred things she had to consider.

It had been a week since the execution of Lucky and the imprisonment of Bluebell and Sundrop Dew. There hadn't been the mass backlash she had feared, but as she suspected, it wasn't a win for her either: Lucky's argument was more popular than her own. Of course it was. His was simple. It resonated. Hers was overcomplicated and yet simplistic at the same time; it was a mistaken attempt to appeal both to a jury and a crowd.

Still, she enjoyed enough of a personal reservoir of trust and affection among the soldiery that public opinion mostly stayed with her. Not among everypony, of course. Some soldiers had deserted. Many had filed protests with their officers. Some officers had accused her of putting the enemy before her ponies, or of holier-than-thou hypocrisy. Some of the guards had threatened to quit rather than accept the new regulations she had issued mandating harsh punishments for 'crimes against pony conscience.' But the reaction to the entire affair was minor and quieted down entirely after a few days. And, truth be told, she barely even noticed the controversy at the time. In her scattered free moments, she simply took delight in the fact that Big Mac was returning her smiles again.

But she knew dwelling on Mac wasn't healthy. She narrowed her eyes and worked on painting Dinky's little mane. And she tried to think about the war. She had the information she needed, and she had three weeks to get the army ready to use it. It would take a week to get to the ambush point she had laid out. There was just the matter of preparing the army to fight. They had only 1100 ponies of all kinds, and it would be a month before they could afford to feed new recruits. The caravan they were targeting--300 wagons full of supplies--would be pulled by 600 enslaved cows. They could be discounted; they wouldn't fight. But there would be at least 800 gryphons. Not lions, no. Gryphons. Derpy had fewer than two hundred pegasi, all undisciplined; there was no chance they could win an cavalry battle.

Derpy sat, painting, racking her brains. This information was a gift. But they obviously couldn't take the supply train without taking out the guards...and they couldn't take out the guards in the air. She looked out the window, at the grey and miserable February afternoon. She sighed. Hopeless. A gust of wind blew dead leaves and grass down the dirt road. Her wings instinctively pulled close to her body.

And she got an idea. She couldn't fight the gryphons in the air, no. But perhaps...perhaps she wouldn't need to. She set down her brush and called for Davenport. This would take a bit of planning.



--------



Nurse Redheart made her morning rounds, changing blankets and giving food and water to the sick. As she went through the tent, she placed red ribbons on the end of the cots of those who didn't survive the night. As she left the barn, she clicked her tongue. It was a bad night. There were seven ribbons on seven cots. One was on the end of Caramel's.

His tent was checked for items that could be reclaimed and reused. His only possession, a blanket, was determined to be unhealthy and unsuitable for use. It was brought to the burial pit. And before Caramel was tossed into the hole, he was gently lowered to the ground, on top of his old, ratty, louse-infested rag of a shroud.

They wrapped his old blanket tightly around his body.
> XVI. Stripengeti Savanna, Punda-Milia. February, 1252.  
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XVI. Stripengeti Savanna, Punda-Milia. February, 1252.  

The gentle winter sun shone down on her back and wings, and a sweet breeze whispered through the tall brown grasses. The ground beneath their feet was hard and cracked; the locals said it was still another month until the rains would come.

"It sure is a nice day, huh?" chirped Frankie.

"You've said that.  Like three times a day. Every day. For a week." Gilda replied, not bothering to conceal her irritation.

"It's always true!"

Gilda shrugged. "So move here."

"No way! I'm a Talon, remember? That's for life!"

Screwball interjected, in her customary telepathic chiming. Do not be so sure. Soon you will betray the Talons in order to come with me on a long journey across the continent. We will have to kill several of them. 

Gilda gently slapped Screwball in the back of the head. The pony wobbled in midair, then righted herself and continued floating on. Gilda rolled her eyes at her. "We already did that, nutbar. Like a month ago. Probably more." She began overenunciating her words. "That is why we are here, and not in Gryphonia."

Oh. I figured we must not have done it yet, because if we had, that would have been a silly thing to say!

"Yeah, it was a silly thing to say, Screwy. Frankie says silly things."

Ha ha I like that.

"See, Gilda," Frankie said reproachfully. "Screwy likes me."

"Yeah. I can see you're real popular among insane ponies who can't even tell whether what they're looking at has happened yet. Great character witness there. I mean, if Screwball likes you, I must be crazy for thinking you're a pain."

"Yeah. You know what? You are. Because you need me. Let's see how good you are in a fight, huh?"

"Ugh. You and I haven't had to kill anyone yet, Frankie. Screwball can take care of that."

Frankie scoffed. "She let me kill lots of ponies so far. And then there was that time she didn't notice when Rory tracked us down in that inn. You'd both be dead if I hadn't been there."

"You killed him on the street, Frankie. Like two blocks from the inn. Screwy would have noticed him."

I didn't notice him. I think she's right.

"See? You're just mean to me for no reason," Frankie huffed.

"Oh for--you didn't notice him because he wasn't anywhere near you," Gilda said, her voice pained. "You'd have seen him when he was closer."

Distance doesn't affect what I see. Or do you mean with my real eyes? Your friends are hard to see that way. Remember Rodric?

"Whatever." Gilda shook her head. "This conversation is dumb."

"Gilda, why are you being such a jerk about this? You wouldn't have seen him once he started coming after you. That's why I was watching the street. I saved us, okay? I saved you! And I came with you because I like you, even though I promised I wouldn't ever leave the sanctuary without permission! Why--why do you always act like you don't like me?"

"I *said* this conversation is dumb. Let's just keep walking, okay?"

Do I have to walk too? I don't know if I know how.

"Don't be stupid, Screwball," Gilda snapped.

I'm not stupid.

"Whatever."

They walked/floated on, in uncomfortable silence. A lone cloud made its way across the sky. The sun continued its slow transit across the heavens.

Suddenly, deafening bells rang through their minds. OH MY GOSH GUYS I SEE IT I SEE IT I SEE IT WE'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR SO LONG I SEE IT I SEE IT OF COURSE IT'S THERE OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS I --  Gilda and Frankie instinctively covered their ears with their claws, even though there was no physical sound.

"QUIET DOWN AND WHAT IS IT?" Gilda yelled.

See! Look look look look look look look look look look-

Gilda looked at Screwball. A silly little cap, with a propeller on top, adorned her mane. I found it! It was in a pile of stuff they were going to throw in a fire but now they won't ha ha ha ha ha ha ha I found it ha ha ha ha ha ha. She spun in tight circles and loops midair. Suddenly, a rough, rasping coughing noise came out of her throat:

"XXCcchchhxxx xhhch xhhghchhx xhchcxhhha xchhaa cxhhaaa xhxcaaa chxaa cxhaaa cha xcha chaa cha ha ha cha ha ha ha ha ha"

Gilda and Frankie stared in shock. Screwball's little loops slowed down, and she fixed an eye on both of them. Isn't it pretty? Discord gave it to me. Well he gave me everything. But the hat is special! It was the only thing he gave me that wasn't...you know. Me. The only thing I could lose and I lost it but I've got it back!

There was a pause. Frankie and Gilda spoke almost in unison. "You laughed."

Screwball floated in place, her little smile fixed on. Yeah! I'm happy! Aren't you? I have my hat! Everyone should be happy!"

Gilda spoke first. "You laughed. With your mouth. Like a real sound."

I always speak the same way, Gilda. I--

Frankie talked over the mental chiming. "No no no! You used your mouth and...lungs and stuff. Like it was a noise, not a thought. Have you...ever done that before?"

Sure. I dunno when. Sometimes. I guess.

There was a short silence again. Nobody moved.

"Well...it is a pretty hat, Screwy..." Frankie offered.

Yes ha ha!

"...and I think you have a nice voice. You should use it more often." 

There was no reply. They moved on, again in silence.





The night sky was a brilliant display of constellations. Gilda sat on the ground, staring reverently upwards. Frankie sat next to her, doing the same. A hundred honored ancestors and eternal spirits looked impassively down on them.

Frankie spoke quietly. "You know...it's the same ones as back home. Up in the sky."

"Yeah, kid. The exact same."

"Did you know they were the same?"

"Yeah. They're the same in Equestria, too."

"I didn't notice." Frankie looked down at her feet. "But the ancestors don't live here. Do they?"

"Some do, I bet. Gryphons used to rule all this, and I'm sure some of them were our ancestors. That's why there are so many lions in Gryphonia, you know. We brought 'em back to work for us."

"Because they share our ancestors, but they're worse than us, right?"

"Yeah. But not all of our ancestors. Not the eagles."

They sat in silence.

"Does the whole world have our spirits and ancestors in the sky, Gilda?"

"You bet. They're not just our spirits. They're everyone's spirits. It's just that other places don't listen to them."

"Hmph. If the spirits are everywhere, then why are the ponies so upset that we're giving the land back to them?"

"'Cause they're ponies. Ponies don't honor the spirits or their ancestors or their family. They honor themselves and their friends, and they change their friends on a whim." Frankie looked confusedly back at her. "They're selfish, Frankie."

"Oh. Is Screwball selfish?"

"Yes. But Screwball is special, and she wants what we want, so we'll work with her."

"Okay."

A warm breeze ruffled their fur and feathers.

"Hey, kid," Gilda said, looking down at her.

"Yeah, Gilda?"

Gilda leaned closer. "...why do you like me?"

Frankie kept looking at her feet. Gilda leaned a bit closer, and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Frankie looked up at Gilda's face, then back down at the ground. "Um...I always like new recruits because they're really bad at everything, and that's funny. But most new Talons get all angry about how bad they are and make themselves get better, or they accept they're bad and stop trying and get killed in the training. But you didn't do either. You didn't get angry and mean, but you still kept getting better. I thought...I thought that was good."

"Pfft. I got plenty angry."

"No. Most gryphons get really angry. Like you can't get near them."

Gilda shrugged. "So you like me 'cause I don't care about my honor? That's kinda insulting, Frankie."

"No no no! You do! You kept getting better, so you obviously cared, and you do get really passionate when the other Talons don't listen to the things you know. You've got the best parts of being a good gryphon, but not the worst parts. Maybe you have some of what's good about being a pony in you! I don't know. But you're good. That's why I like you."

Gilda thought, then spoke softly. "I dunno kid, I think you're just makin' stuff up. I'm pretty normal."

Frankie crossed her arms. "Well, you're not normal for a Talon."

"Yeah, maybe not. But like you said, I'm not a great Talon."

"That's for sure. But that's okay. You're a good gryphon."

Gilda made a show of rolling her eyes, but under her feathers she blushed slightly. Frankie scooted a bit closer to Gilda, then a bit closer, until they were side by side.

Gilda looked down. "Do you have a family, Frankie?"

"Not anymore, I guess, now that I'm not a Talon. Unless you and Screwball and me are a family."

Gilda felt briefly uncomfortable. "No, kid. I mean...did you have parents? That you knew?"

"No. I'm Talonborn. My parents were really good acrobats and so the palace took their egg and hatched me and trained me and now here I am."

Gilda nodded. "So you've never had parents?"

"Sorta. I had people who took care of me, but they usually weren't the same people, so I wouldn't get too attached."

"How come you care about ancestors, then?" Gilda asked. Frankie cocked her head. "Since you aren't attached to a family line, I mean."

"Because I'm Talonborn. I'm protected by the royal ancestors. And when I die, I'll join the royal ancestors with the other Talonborn. Or...I hope I will. They'll understand, right? You said they would."

"Yeah, Frankie. They will. We're doing exactly what the King said. His ancestors will be glad to accept you."

"...if we kill the Pony Queen, right?"

"Yeah. But we will."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

They listened to the insects chirping.



---



The midmorning sun hung in the sky, casting a gentle warmth.  They walked away from the little informal market, their bags weighed down with food and water, their footsteps heavier but their stomachs fuller.

Gilda stared dead ahead as she walked. "They obviously weren't going to know anything, Screwball. They're farmers. Farmers don't know about forgotten magic. They apparently don't even know about bathing."

Frankie shrugged. "Looked fine to me."

 We can go into a city, Screwball chimed, but the zebras get very angry when we do that. They think I am evil. I do not understand.

Gilda stopped walking. She looked at the pony. "Screwball. You're a flying mindreading semi-omniscient pony with absurd magical power. You're the daughter--or whatever--of a god of chaos. You have a divine link to the Flow. You've killed like a dozen gryphons and three times as many ponies without showing any emotion whatsoever; I don't even know if you knew you were killing them at the time. I don't think you're even capable of remorse or regret. And you're taking us on a mission to unearth a magic relic that the Zebras deliberately forgot thousands of years ago, so you can commit regicide to revenge your imprisoned demon father."

Yes. I...think that's all true, though I don't know if I've killed anyone. You might be making that up.

"You have. And the fact you don't even know is even scarier--" 

--I'm sure I'll know sometime soon. And I do have emotions--

"--not the point! The point is that you are obviously evil by any objective understanding, and not in the sense of 'big jerk,' but rather in the sense...well, in the sense that you're the kind of thing we write legends about. And not the good kind of legends. The kind that keep the temples in business."

Are you being mean? If you're mean than you won't want to help me and if you don't help me you can't come with me.

Gilda sighed. "...no, Screwy. I'm not being mean. I'm just...I understand why the zebras don't like you. They're pretty magical people. They might not know quite what you are, but they know enough to know you're bad news. I get that."

You 'get that' because you don't like me either?

"No, I like you. I'm afraid of you. But I like you. I don't think you're malicious or anything."

Malicious means you want to hurt ponies?

"Well, people. Not just ponies. But yeah. You don't, do you?"

The world is beautiful!

Frankie piped up. "Um, was that a yes? Or a no?"

To what?

Gilda cut Frankie off. "Do you like to hurt people, Screwball?"

I like the world. I don't like Celestia. I don't like when people are mean to me. But I like everything else in the world! Sometimes people are happy and that's beautiful. Sometimes people suffer and that's beautiful too. Most people try not to make each other sad and that's okay. I do the same! But you don't Gilda, do you? Why is that?

Gilda started walking again. Screwball and Frankie followed. "Why do you always turn these conversations on me?"

Because when you talk like that it reminds me it doesn't make sense. 

"Screwy, nothing makes sense to you. Half the time I give you breakfast you insist you've already eaten it."

No things make sense when I look at them but I don't always see everything else. But I can see all of you when I see you. And you don't make sense on the inside.

"Oh, for--not you, too. Look, Screwball. I'm not some deep mystery, okay? I'm a gryphon. Like any other. I'm reasonably smart. I've got a temper, but not a bad one. And I try to do the right thing."

What is the right thing?

"What's gotten into you? Is this philosophy class? No, I'm not going to discuss pointless stuff with the nutty pony."

Okay.

Gilda stopped again. Screwball and Frankie stopped as well. "Look. We didn't come here to talk about our feelings. We came here to find some magic you insist exists but which nobody has apparently heard of. That means we're going to have to go into a city with a good library. Is there any way you can come with us?"

Only if I walk. And don't talk to any of the zebras. And keep my eyes hidden. And they don't look at me with magic.

"No, that won't work. You need to talk to them. Frankie and I don't speak Zebra."

They will get angry at the library if I do that.

"You sure?"

Yes.

Gilda sighed. "How are you with languages, Frankie?"

Frankie cocked her head. "I can speak all right, I think. You understand me, right?"

"That's it? No foreign languages? No High Tongue?"

Frankie narrowed her eyes. "I can speak with a Korella'gryph accent. It's real funny."

"Well, then. I guess I'm handling the next market visit."

"But you don't speak any Zebra, do you?"

"Eh. A few words. I guess I've got to learn the rest."

"I'm sure you'll do great. I mean, that's why you spent all that time reading stuff, right? So you'd know how to do things?" Frankie thought a second. "I bet that's why you're a Talon, Gilda! Because you can figure out how to do things! I can fight and sneak around and Screwy can do her weird magic stuff and you can do anything else! Anything at all! I bet that's what the King made you a Talon for. And me too. We're like perfect together--"

They walked on, following the cracked dirt path. Frankie continued to chatter on. Gilda looked up at the sapphire-colored sky. A small flock of birds soared past, and landed on a lone tree standing in a stretch of rippling, windblown grasses. In the distance, a giant white cloud rose miles into the sky, flanked by a few smaller clouds. She smiled to herself.

"Hey, kid."

Frankie stopped talking and looked up, a bit apprehensively. "Yeah, Gilda?"

"It sure is a nice day, huh?"

> XVII. North of Trottingham, Equestria. February, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XVII. North of Trottingham, Equestria. February, 1252.

Rarity's legs wobbled beneath her. She stumbled to the side, and leaned against the creaking cart. Through her strained breaths, she called an order to halt. The cart came to a stop, as did the one behind it and the one behind that. One of the unicorns pulling the front cart turned to look at her. "Another breather, ma'am?"

Rarity's head was bowed; her eyes were unfocused. The cold air burned her throat as she breathed, and her lungs felt half-dead, like she simply couldn't fill them no matter how she tried. Her dirty white, bony legs shook awfully, sending ripples through her ragged mane. She spoke in a quiet voice through desperate breaths: "Yes, private...yes...please stop. Please. Thank...thank you." He nodded and looked back ahead.

Twilight Sparkle walked up alongside her. "Are you all right, Rarity?"

Rarity nodded, her jaw slack, her head hanging low. "...yes, d-dear...yes. I'm quite...quite...yes."

Twilight looked over her shoulder at the road behind them, then glanced at the sun above. They hadn't gone a third of the distance to Starskip's Junction, and the day was half over. She did some quick calculations, then shouted out, "Everypony! Scale of 1-10, how strong are you today?" No response. She repeated. "That was an order, soldiers. Scale of 1-10, how strong are you today?"

The other ponies, each yoked to one of the three carts, hesitantly gave their responses. '4.' '7.' '5.' '3.' '5.' '6.' Rarity mumbled a 'nine.' Twilight looked them over. The seven was teamed with a five. So was the six. The six was Thistlewhistle, a bit of a grumbler, and the seven was Orange Pekoe, who tended to overstate his abilities. Thistlewhistle's cart it was.

"All right," Twilight said, turning to the ponies pulling the middle cart. "Private Thistlewhistle. Private Bloom. You now have the honor of assisting your Captain. Rarity, please get in their cart."

Oh, ha ha ha, Twiiiilight darling, Rarity attempted to say. It came out "Ohatwlll...llit...rng," and her eyes fell shut.

"Well, then." Twilight's horn began to glow, and Rarity's emaciated, half-limp body began to float into the air. Twilight guided the white unicorn into the middle cart, and set her down, much harder than she had intended. Rarity whimpered as she hit the wooden bed, but she didn't move a muscle."Get some rest, Captain. Everypony else, let's get moving. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

"Yes, Colonel," Orange Pekoe said. The rest silently resumed pulling their carts. Twilight stood still a second longer, though. Her horn ached; it felt painfully drained. Lifting a half-starved petite unicorn should have been easy. No, no, it was easy. It must have been easy. She wasn't getting weaker. There was no time for weakness. She shook off the hollow sensation, and walked on.



They continued on through the afternoon and evening, stopping only on the rare instances someone noticed a frost-covered patch of uneaten grass near the road. After several hours in the cart, Rarity seemed to regain enough strength to sit up; a little while after that, she was walking again. The group stopped frequently to rest, but ate only what they happened to find growing by the side of the road; ponies headed out on supply duty were not issued rations, under the tacit understanding that they would eat some of what they were sent to load into their carts.



By the time they arrived at the hamlet of Starskip's Junction, the grey sky had become a dull blue-black. A dim circle of moonlight shone through the thin clouds, and candlelight cast a dull glow in the windows of the dozen or so ramshackle little buildings that stood uneasily along the side of the road. It was difficult to tell if there was more to the 'town' than those few shacks. Twilight squinted as she looked around. She suspected there wasn't. 

She Rarity's voice over her shoulder. "Well, Twilight? Shall we rouse them and get our supplies? Or were we just going to stand here and stare at these dreadful little excuses for houses?"

Twilight looked back over her shoulder. "Feeling better, I see?"

Rarity spoke without humor. "Considering the circumstances, I feel excellent. But I am feeling just a bit hungry, so I would appreciate it if we could move on." Twilight sighed softly, and didn't bother replying. Discussions with her friends were becoming less and less enjoyable.

Together, they walked up to the nearest house, flanked by the six unicorns on cart duty. Rarity rapped a hoof against the door. Bits of rotted wood fell off with each knock. There was no reply. She knocked again, and shouted, "Army business." This time she heard hooves dragging on a packed-dirt floor. The door creaked open, and in front of them stood a small, withered old Earth pony mare. 

"How can I help--oh, you're soldiers," the old mare wheezed, "I'm afraid we don't have anything for you."

Rarity spoke calmly. "Madam, your town has been ordered by the Princess herself to supply us with three carts of hay in exchange for your continued protection. If you wished to make a means objection, you should have done so when prompted by the royal representative last week."

"Orders or not, young miss, we have nothing to give you."

Rarity looked behind the old mare and narrowed her eyes. On her table, there was a small bowl of half-eaten porridge. "Do not lie to me. You are eating; you have food. Starskip's Junction has something to give. We are not going to starve you, but we ourselves are starving. You must underst-"

"-I can't help you. We have nothing to give." The crone closed the door. A scraping noise suggested she was locking it.

"Should we go to the next house?" Twilight asked.

"No, I don't think so," Rarity said. "Private Pekoe, be a dear and open this woman's door." 

Rarity stepped aside--and Twilight followed a half-step later--as Orange Pekoe walked up to the door. He turned away from it, then kicked it with all the force he could muster. His hooves went through the rotting wood. 

"Rarity, maybe she's not the right person to ask. Why don't we try to find a town leader or--"

"--Twilight, if there was somepony else to talk to, she'd have told us so immediately. I have made this type of request many times. You are welcome as an observer, but we know what we are doing. Again, Pekoe, this time at the hinges."

The unicorn stallion yanked his legs back, then kicked again, this time at where the door met the wall. It easily fell off the frame, and clattered to the ground.

Rarity entered, walking gingerly over the door. "Madam, we had not finished the discussion."

The old mare was back by her dinner table. "Why--you little thug! Do you know how hard it'll be to replace that?"

"I apologize for the trouble. I do. But you must understand, we are fighting and dying to defend all of Equestria, including your town. And we are starving. I know this is the hardest time of year for everypony, but surely you must be able to part with something." Rarity spoke politely, but there was a hint of an edge to her voice.

The mare looked around the room. She had backed herself, quite literally, into a corner. Rarity, Twilight, and six unicorn stallions stood in front of her. Rarity was nearly nose-to-nose with her. 

"Madam, this is not negotiable. It is a matter of life and death for us, and therefore for Equestria. The royal representative found six cartloads' worth of hay in your various stores. A town this small should need only two to survive the next month. We are only asking for three. Every stem will go to feed the starving ponies who are fighting to protect you."

The mare looked around in a panic. "This is...this is thuggery! You're just more soldiers growing fat on poor farmers' food!"

"WHAT?!" Rarity yelled, then bit the old mare on the ear and neck. She then pulled back immediately, breathing heavily. 

"Rarity! What are you--" Twilight began to say.

"--FAT!? WE'RE GROWING FAT?!" Rarity grabbed her dirty, rumpled uniform with her teeth and yanked it off in one sharp pull. It offered no resistance whatsoever. She turned her side to the old mare, putting her emaciated frame into full view. Her ribs and hips jutted out from her thin, sunken skin. Her spine looked like the top support of a limply hanging tarp. Her legs were bony and weak. Her dirty fur was falling out in patches. Her mane hung limp and sparse. Her malnourished face was contorted in rage. "LOOK AT ME! I AM CAPTAIN RARITY OF THE NEW EQUESTRIAN ARMY. DO I LOOK FAT TO YOU?!"

The mare cringed in horror. She realized all the ponies in front of her were equally pathetic underneath their loosely-hanging uniforms, and she shrunk back both from the sight of them and from the white unicorn's anger.

Twilight tried again to interject. "Rarity, it's normal for ponies to be hesitant to part with their food during winter. I'm sure that if we explain the situation, she'll be happy to comply..."

"Twilight, be quiet." Rarity gritted her teeth, and spoke in a dark tone to the old mare. "Yes. I am horrible to look at. But I was beautiful not too long ago. Beautiful. I was fit and trim and healthy and beautiful. My coat was lush. My mane was gorgeous. And I was rather wealthy to boot. If I might be bold, I was considered fit to marry royalty. But I didn't. I enlisted. At any moment I could have deserted--like some ponies I know did--and fled elsewhere with my gems and my beauty. But I didn't. I sacrificed everything I had for Equestria. And every day I make the decision to sacrifice a little more. Madam, I would feel justified asking you to starve as we starve. But I'm not. I am only asking you to donate some of your surplus to the army."

The mare tried to speak calmly, though her white eyes betrayed a wild fear. "...we have no surplus, Captain Rarity. A few days back some gryphons came through and threatened to burn our homes down if we didn't give them food. They barely left us enough to survive the rest of the winter."

There was silence.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Twilight said, "but perhaps we could--"

"--Twilight, darling, I asked you to be quiet; you are an observer and this is not your matter." Rarity's voice was now syrupy. "Madam, are you telling me that gryphons came through here, and that you decided to provide them with the very food that you had promised to the starving ponies who are willingly dying for your freedom?"

"Rarity, please, she--"

"--Because I simply cannot believe a pony would be so ungenerous to those who are daily laying down their lives for her own withered existence. A gryphon perhaps, but not a pony--"

"--they didn't have a choice, they--"

"--I mean, I myself have often been tempted to give extra gemstones to customers who were particularly pushy, but I would never stoop to giving away stones I had promised to an earlier customer--"

"--not the same, they were going to lose their--"

"--and that's merely gemstones, darling; we're talking about food in a time of starvation. I simply cannot believe what she is telling me, can you--"

"--RARITY!"

There was silence.

"...Twilight, darling, you know I love you deeply, but I might remind you that you are an observer on this mission. Please observe." Her voice was still painfully sweet. "Madam, as I was saying, I find it hard to believe that you gave four cartloads of hay to gryphons--who, I might add, can scarcely even eat the stuff--instead of giving it to the ponies who are dying every day from malnutrition. Is this the case?"

The old mare nodded slowly. "They were going to burn all our houses down. They locked the Swirls' foal in their home and set it on fire to prove they were serious. They made us watch it burn to the ground. It was horrible."

"And they left you two cartloads of food?"

"I...don't really know what a cartload is. They took about two thirds of our savings, yes. Maybe a little more." 

"You're telling me the truth, dear? No lies?"

"No, I swear."

"All right. Thank you for your cooperation." Rarity turned back to the six unicorns, and spoke, her voice darkened. "Go house to house. Take everything edible they have. If they resist, you are hereby authorized to use force. Deadly if necessary."

"What?!" Twilight interjected. "They're...they'll die if we do that!"

"And we'll die if we don't. This food is the property of the New Equestrian Army. Our soldiers, who are dying to save Equestria, deserve it more than these...these cowards do."

"We can't sentence civilians to death, Rarity!"

The old mare began to voice her assent. A glare from Rarity silenced her.

"We're not doing any such thing. They had three cartloads of their food. They were also storing three cartloads of our food. They chose to give all their food to the gryphons, and some of ours as well. Really, they should be thankful I'm not going to punish them for selling Army property to the enemy."

"Rarity, we aren't going to do this," Twilight said flatly.

"Yes, we are," Rarity replied.

"I outrank you, Captain."

"You aren't my superior officer, Colonel; I owe you nothing but a salute."

"I order you to stand down and leave this woman alone."

"That's very noble of you, dear. Perhaps you can mention it in your next heart-to-heart with the Princess."

"If you do not stand down, I will order you arrested for insubordination."

Rarity smiled generously, and called the bluff: "Twilight Sparkle. My dear friend. I am a unicorn, not a pegasus with her head in the clouds or an Earth pony with her hooves in the mud. You simply musn't treat me like I'm stupid. I am operating under direct orders from Maj. Berry Cake, who is operating under direct orders from Col. Sugarfloss, who is operating under direct orders from Gen. Featherbreeze, who is operating under direct orders from Princess Celestia. I was ordered to take three cartloads of food if I deem it practicable, and I do deem it practicable. To disobey my orders because a Colonel of Artillery dislikes them would be insubordination. And we are both well aware of that fact."

Twilight gazed sadly at her. "..yeah. I know. But I don't want to see you do this. The Rarity I know wouldn't."

Rarity looked sympathetic, in a way. But she was unyielding "I understand, Twilight. It isn't pretty. It isn't what I imagined when I signed up, either. It certainly isn't something I could have imagined myself doing a year ago. But we've seen a lot since then. Now I understand that an act of unthinking generosity to one can be cruelty to many. I simply cannot agree to let my friends starve simply because these ponies chose to help the enemy rather than to sacrifice these awful shacks. "

"But we don't even need this food."

"Really, dear? Look at your legs and tell me that."

"I mean, it's only two cartloads. That's practically nothing if you divide it up among the whole army."

"And if we all thought like that, we would all starve. Our ponies are at the brink of death, and every day dozens do die. I've watched my girls and my boys die, Twilight." She turned to the other unicorns, still standing attentively. "You were given orders, boys. Find their food. Load it in your carts. And then we'll leave."

As the unicorns turned to walk away, the old mare suddenly pushed past Rarity, pleading pathetically. Twilight looked down at the dirt floor. Everypony else ignored the woman's pleas. Rarity picked her torn uniform up off the floor, and began to put it back on. If she tied it right, it would stay in place at least until they were out of town.



The operation took less than two hours. They had to subdue two ponies by force, but none were killed. They found just under two cartloads' worth of food, which they distributed evenly among the three carts. And they left without a word.

They walked slowly, the soldiers straining to pull their carts. It would be some time before they could reach a safe spot to camp for the night. As was her custom, Twilight walked next to Rarity. Shortly after Starskip's Junction had faded from sight, Twilight broke the uncomfortable silence. "They're going to die, Rarity."

"...it is possible, yes. If they're smart they'll head south."

"They might not be able to make it."

"We might not be able to make it either."

"I know. But I don't like making civilians suffer."

"We need to live, Twilight. If we die, then everypony suffers. Forever."

"...I know."

Twilight walked on in sad silence. 

Suddenly, she happened to see a tuft of grass sticking out from beneath a recently-fallen tree. She licked her lips, then she summoned all her magic to try to lift the log. She twisted her face in concentration. Her horn glowed with a flickering, unsteady light. And then, suddenly, she stopped, and her look f concentration was replaced with confused disappointment.

She couldn't do it.



---



Valley Foal, Equestria. March, 1252.



Scootaloo galloped eagerly through the camp, back towards the house Big Macintosh and the Crusaders (among others) were living in. She burst in through the door, and skittered across the floor. She ran into the room she and her friends shared with a few of the younger female soldiers. Sweetie Belle was sitting on the bed, magically braiding Apple Bloom's hair.

"Girls girls girls girls!" Scootaloo shouted.

"Quiet there," Apple Bloom said, "you'll--OW!--see! She needs ta concentrate!"

"I told you I'm new at this! I didn't--oop."

Apple Bloom let out a sharp shriek as a clump of her hair was abruptly torn out. "You told me you weren't gonna do that no more!"

"I said I would try not to! This magic stuff is hard, okay? Sometimes my horn just does things and I don't really know why."

Scootaloo interrupted. "Oh, for--yeah we're all really excited about the horn, Sweetie. But listen! There's gonna be a raid tomorrow. We're gonna go out and fight the gryphons hoof to hoof!"

"They don't have hooves, dumbbell," Sweetie said. Apple Bloom's hair suddenly started twisting into an enormous knot. "Oh--hold on, Apple, I...um...okay, I can fix this."

"Stop touchin' my hair! I'm gonna just brush it out, okay?"

"GIRLS! LISTEN! We're gonna go on a raid!"

Apple Bloom looked up. "Like, you and me and Sweetie Belle? Didn't Big Mac say we weren't supposed to go out?"

"Well, yeah! But c'mon, they won't notice. Haven't you wondered what it's like? We don't have to fight. We'll just watch."

Sweetie Belle looked around nervously. "Um...I don't really know if that's a good idea. It sounds dangerous."

"We're sitting around all day eating the army's food," Scootaloo said impatiently. "We should start making ourselves useful."

"But...we're already useful. I've built tons a' storage shacks. And Sweetie's come up with some great songs for the ponies to sing while marchin'. And we've all been doin' lots of work around camp."

"Yeah, but I haven't gotten to do anything cool or useful yet. I bet I'd be great at fighting gryphons."

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle looked at each other. "This sounds like a really bad idea," Sweetie said.

"Well, I'm going. And you guys should come with me. But I'm going either way. Look, I gotta get some stuff together. It'll be a long march I hear."

She ran off before the other two could say a word. They looked at each other and shrugged.
> XVIII. Valley Foal, Equestria. March, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XVIII. Valley Foal, Equestria. March, 1252.

Derpy sat at her desk in her room, eating a bowl of newly sprouted grass shoots and reading the reports Davenport had assembled. She had sent pegasus scouts along the gryphon convoy's supposed path every day for the past week, and one had finally sighted it six days due north of Valley Foal. This meant their original rendezvous point wouldn't work, but that was no matter. She didn't bother sending out a confirmation recon flight. Cloudkicker never gave her bad intelligence, and they needed every hoof they could get preparing the army for campaigning season. 

Her army would be up to the task, she thought. Her core of eight hundred winter survivors were tough and disciplined; months of training and shared misery had forged them into true soldiers. They were healthy, too: now that the spring grasses were coming in, they were eating again, and rapidly gaining strength. They would be fine. However, the arrival of the spring grasses also meant they could begin recruiting--and recruiting was going far better than expected. They had over four thousands enlistees coming in over the next two weeks. Those wouldn't be much use until they had been trained, but it wouldn't take long to get them in basic fighting shape. Plus, she didn't mind the prospect of sending them into battle half-trained. She could rely on her Valley Foal veterans as reserves whenever her lines began to break.

But that was a matter for the future. Her present concern was the first test of the Equestrian Army of Free Ponies. The numbers weren't on her side. Eight hundred gryphons against eight hundred ponies, of which only two hundred had wings. But she would have surprise. She looked out the window, at the gentle spring day. And she...she would have the weather.



Lyra magically rolled up her tent, and began stuffing it into its sack. Next to her, Bon Bon was carefully packing both her and Lyra's possessions into her saddlebags. 

Lyra glanced over at Bon Bon. "Oh--you don't need to do that! I can carry my stuff!"

Bon Bon blew a strand of hair off her face as she worked. "I don't need to. I want to."

"Come on, honey, you can hardly walk."

"I can walk just fine. Besides, I don't want it weighing y'down when we have to fight."

Lyra stopped and sighed. "Weighing me--so you're still not going to fight? Bonnie...why are you here if you don't want to fight? Why don't we just go home?"

"I can still be useful. There's lotsa things to do around here. I dig, I pull, I carry." She shrugged. "There's lotsa things to do."

Lyra reared back on her hind legs and crossed her front hooves. "But you expect me to fight."

Bon Bon smiled. "I don't 'spectcha to do nothing, sweetie. But you can fight, right? I mean, like, your legs work; you can kick. Now I ain't pushing you to do nothing, but I fought when I could. I darn near died, y'know that. If I could still kick I'd be fighting still."

"It's not fair. I just...I just wanted to be happy with you. And like, life was almost becoming normal. Like, we slept in the same place, we ate at regular times, we did some work and we trained and we went to bed together. And now it's ending again. Why can't we be happy?"

"Aw, Lyra. Y'can still be happy. I'm happy with you wherever we are. And...y'know, if it makes you feel better, I can come up with'ya to the battle." She grinned. "But y'know my legs can't kick no more, so you better protect my tail, missy."

Lyra forced a smile. "I couldn't ask you to do that. Hang back with the carts where it's safe."

"I could! I mean it! Would that make you feel better?"

"Stay back, Bonnie. It's okay."

"...all right," Bon Bon said. "But if you change y'mind, lemme know." 



----



The army marched out, in two long trains. One group, with the baggage, the invalids, the camp followers, and the non-combat support ponies, took a winding path branching off from Valley Foal, following a good cobblestone road winding through barren farmland; their carts would have few problems getting stuck, they were unlikely to be ambushed, and they would meet up with the main army at Rollinghoof two days after the ambush. The main group would take a muddied-but-direct dirt path through the sprawling Chestnutpeake wetlands. 

Derpy knew splitting an army was a cardinal sin in warfare--and leaving your baggage train undefended was downright stupidity--but it was a gamble she was willing to take. If her intelligence was correct--and it should be--the gryphons did not have an army in the field, and the timing of the ambush had to be perfect. Rollinghoof was the only town between the gryphon convoy's current location and Fillydelphia, and its location by the marsh's edge made perfect for an ambush. The chance to fight the battle there made the risk worthwhile. Or so she hoped.

Near the rear of the main army, Scootaloo bounced along giddily, fluttering her wings as she went. It would be a three day march to Rollinghoof, but three days of marching was nothing by now--and this time, there would be *action* at the end of the march. Besides, who cared about marching when there was enough to eat? Marsh grasses weren't that tasty but they were certainly plentiful.

Beside her, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle walked nervously, looking around them.

"Why ain't nopony noticin' us?" asked Apple Bloom. "Big Mac said we weren't allowed here. It's all big ponies."

"Maybe we're too short to see?" Sweetie Belle offered.

"Nah," Scootaloo laughed, "It's 'cause we're big ponies too! I mean, Sweetie Belle can do some magic now. And I can sorta fly a bit now. And Apple Bloom is getting really strong. We're not fillies!"

"Uh, yeah, we are fillies," said Sweetie Belle. "We totally are."

"Hey!" said Apple Bloom, changing the subject. "We should play some music!"

Sweetie Belle looked up at a soldier walking dead-eyed next to her. "I don't think we should be calling attention to ourselves. I mean, I'm okay coming along, but what if the General finds out?"

"Well, I'm not worried none 'bout that," Apple Bloom replied. "She can't very well send us back. We're marchin'; there ain't no 'back' to send us to. We came to watch, and now we're gonna watch--no matter what. So why worry?"

Scootaloo chipped in. "Yeah! Don't worry! C'mon, Sweetie Belle, sing! You came up with all sorts of cool songs!"

"Well...I don't know. I like singing and all, but..."

Apple Bloom pulled a wooden cylinder out of her little saddlebag. It was big; it occupied the entire right-flank bag. She tossed its strap over her neck, then pulled out a wooden stick, the center of which she grasped in her teeth. She snapped her head to the side. The cylinder made a sharp, resonant banging noise.

"You brought that drum?" Scootaloo asked.

"You bet! I got your fife in the other bag. You been practicin' like I said to, right?" She tossed it to Scootaloo. "Now! Sweetie! Get singin'!"

Apple Bloom rapped out a series of three triplets, then fell into a steady, martial rolling beat.  Sweetie looked around helplessly, then shrugged, and began singing at the top of her lungs. It was La Chevallaise, one of the first songs she had written. It was the most popular, too--the soldiers had taken a special liking to it. Scootaloo shrugged, and began piping imprecisely along; music wasn't her forte, but the song was simple enough.

Rise up, children of ponies, the day of glory has arrived!
Against us, gryphon tyranny: unbowed and blooded, we must rise!
Unbowed and blooded, we must rise!

Her resonant voice rang clear and sharp through the swamp trail. Nearly everypony turned to look as they walked.

Will ponies submit, frightened, crying,
To gryphon masters and lion slaves?
Will ponies lay down in graves,
While freedom is softly dying?

The ponies around them were singing. Apple Bloom rapped louder. Sweetie Belle stuck to the beat Apple Bloom provided, though it was a bit faster than she usually sang it. As she hit the chorus, she sang louder still, her voice straining but still controlled.

To arms, my ponies!
Form our batallions!
March on! March on!
And we shall free, our Equestria!

A particularly tall stallion stooped down next to Sweetie, and motioned for her to jump on his back. She did, and repeated the chorus. In every direction, ponies were singing as they marched.

To arms, my ponies!
Form our batallions!
March on! March on!
And we shall free, our Equestria.


Sweetie breathed in deeply, her face a broad smile. Everypony was listening to her. Everypony was singing her song. She flew eagerly into the second verse.


Derpy sang along softly as she walked. She liked the tune; it was familiar and stirring, and it always boosted ponies' spirits during marches and drills. Yet this time it was accompanied; a soft rap of drumming and tweet of fifing gave a rather engaging backing. She leaned over to talk to Big Macintosh.

"Who's playing, Mac?" she asked. "Did we take on some musicians?"

Without a word, he turned and headed back through the line to investigate the source of the music. Derpy kept walking and singing to herself. Suddenly, the music stopped, as did the singing. She looked quizzically behind her. A minute later, Big Mac arrived, his eyes aflame with anger, three fillies following close behind.

"It was them, General," he said, snorting in rage. "They came along."

Derpy walked off to the side of the road, and motioned for Mac and the Crusaders to follow. They did, and as the army continued to march along past them, Derpy leaned down to speak with the fillies. She spoke gently.

"So, girls. You've decided to come along on the raid?"

Scootaloo nodded eagerly. Apple Bloom looked nervously at Big Macintosh. Sweetie Belle looked at the ground.

"And you understand that we can't protect you when the fighting starts."

Scootaloo again nodded, just as eager. Sweetie Belle dragged a hoof through the soft dirt.

Derpy looked up at Mac. "I can have them hang back from the main group, but there's no guarantee they won't be found by fleeing gryphons. The best I can do is have them hide in the marsh for a day or two before rejoining us, but really, Mac, telling them not to come along doesn't ever work."

Big Macintosh looked from Crusader to Crusader, then back at Apple Bloom. "We should have dropped them off at a town somewhere."

Derpy shrugged, and affected nonchalance. "Maybe. But we didn't. But as I recall, you didn't even suggest it."

Big Mac snapped his attention onto Derpy. "General, I didn't want to leave her where I couldn't protect her."

"And now we're taking them to where we can't protect them," Derpy said. She felt like she was trying to prove a point with him, but she didn't know what it was.

"God damn it all," he shouted, "I know that!"

She shook her mane, and sighed, realizing she was just being touchy about his disapproval of her decisions. "...yeah, Mac, I know. I'm sorry. You're right, we should have found them a home. But--"

"--but this is our home!" Scootaloo interrupted.

Apple Bloom immediately piped up. "Yeah! We'll follow you forever!"

Sweetie Belle nodded. "Yep! Because we're ponies too!"

Derpy nodded, then fixed an eye on the three in turn. They were right. They would follow forever. Hadn't they followed her in the first place, even when they had been told to evacuate? Hadn't they followed her even when their bodies were too starved and frozen to walk? Hadn't they followed her even when expressly forbidden from coming with the main army? So long as she let them live in the camp, they couldn't be kept from the front forever. And she couldn't kick them out of the camp. 

"All right, then," she said. "It was a mistake to let you come along in the first place, but I did, so that's something I'll have to deal with. I don't want you fighting in any battles. I want you to stay safe. But I'm not going to try to protect you. If you want to come along, I'm not going to try to stop you."

"WHAT?" Big Mac yelled.

"I can't stop them, Mac."

"Punish them!"

"I can only punish soldiers, and I will not have child soldiers."

"This is my sister you're talking about!"

"Your sister, Mac. Not the army's sister."

"You have responsibilities!"

"I feed them and tell them to be safe."

"We can't bring them!"

"You and I both know the only way to keep them from following is to stop feeding them."

"We can't do that!"

"Right. Which is why they're going to come along."

Mac narrowed his eyes. "Captain, I've followed you through a lot, but--"

Derpy interrupted, narrowing her own eyes. "--it's General, Major Apple--"

He took a step closer and talked over her. "--you've lost sight of what it is you're fightin' for. Bringin' Apple Bloom to--"

She took a step closer. They were both talking over each other "-you never knew what you were fighting for. It's all about what makes you feel good inside, not about what's possible or what's--"

He took a step closer. "--there it is again. 'Possible.' Always excuses with you. After the torture trial I was startin' to think you was growing a moral compass, but that was just another game, wasn't it? Another cold-hearted calculation, what's best for the army, what's best for--"

"--yeah, Mac. What's possible. What's best for the army. That's what we are: an army." She took a step closer. They were nose to nose. He stood proudly and solidly on all four legs, drawn up to his full height. She matched him in intimidation if not in height; she had learned how to make her presence felt despite her stature. "You're a good stallion, Mac, a real good stallion. But you won't face ugly facts. You don't understand how to be a good officer." She said the words as if she were emasculating him.

"I understand perfectly," he growled. "I'd just rather be a good stallion than a good officer. You'd rather be a good officer than a good mare, but all that means is--"

She leaned her muzzle close to his ear. "--I am a damned good officer and a damned good mare, and don't you dare forget it--"

He pushed her head back with his own. He locked eyes with her. "--all that means is you ain't neither."

She glared back. "Oh. Really." She raised a hoof, and grabbed him by the neck. He was beginning to raise a hoof to defend himself, when she leaned in and kissed him aggressively. She pulled his face into her own; she kissed and bit and licked. Months of self-denial and discipline flooded out in a torrent of passion--until, with a single shove, he pushed her stumbling back.

"Derpy." He paused. "Do. Not. Ever. Do. That. Again."

He turned, and rejoined the line of ponies marching past.

Derpy bit her lip; her face was flushed underneath her fur. Shock and shame and guilt and horror and regret and embarrassment coursed through her. She turned to the Crusaders, all of whom were staring goggle-eyed at her.

"...fall in, girls," she said at last, "and sing and play your music." They didn't move. She continued to speak, trying to keep from crying. "Did you girls write that song? I thought I heard somepony say you did."

Sweetie Belle slowly nodded.

"Good for you," she said, carefully controlling her voice. "It's really good. The soldiers like it. And I like it. Can you write sheet music?"

Sweetie Belle shook her head.

"Okay. Would you mind if I had Davenport write it down so we can give it to people we meet?"

Sweetie Belle shook her head again.

"Thank you. Now go on. I'm going to rest here for a minute. Go. C'mon, go. Go."

Sweetie Belle turned and began walking. So did Scootaloo. Apple Bloom lingered a second, on the edge of asking a question, but then turned to catch up with her friends, her drum bouncing as she went.



----



The campfires stretched along the road and throughout nearby clearings. In the warmth of a particularly bright fire, Big Macintosh sat next to the Crusaders.

"...you're really good at buildin' fires, big brother," Apple Bloom whispered.

"Eeyup."

"...you know a lotta stuff. I oughta pay more attention to you."

"...eeyup."

A soft voice came from behind them. "Um...Major Apple? We need to talk."

Big Macintosh sat silently, then at last said, "All right girls, clear out. Sit down, General."

"You don't tell me to sit down, Major Apple. You agree to the order." Her voice was gentle but insistent.

"Yes, General."

Derpy sat down next to him, and the Crusaders stood up and walked off reluctantly.

She wasn't sure how to phrase it. She wasn't sure what balance to strike. She decided not to bother with phrasing it. She spoke. "...Mac, I'm sorry. About yesterday."

"Eeyup." He looked pained. He knew this conversation was coming. He didn't look forward to it.

"I don't know what came over me."

"Yeah, you do."

"...yeah, Mac. I do. I love you." She sighed. "I do. I shouldn't but I do."

"I know. And I'm sorry, Derpy. I am truly sorry."

"Why don't you love me," she asked pleadingly. "Why?"

"You're old enough to know that question never has an easy answer."

"...I know. It's just that...I need you, Mac. For lots of things. And it's not fair that you don't need me back."

"I do need you, Derpy. We all do. We need you to be our general."

"Not like that! I...God, you know what I mean."

"I do. And...no sense avoiding it. You need to know what I mean too. You're not a good mare, Derpy." She winced, and her ears flattened back. Mac continued on. "No, you don't understand. You're not even a mare, really. We don't see a mare when we look at you. We see authority. We see command. You're the army, Derpy. The whole army, and not a pony. So we can't love you--not like you want to be loved. We can respect you; we can follow you; we can fear you and admire you and follow you to the death. To the death." He paused. "But we can't love you. Not like that."

"But I...wait. None of you like me? But--"

"We do. Just not, y'know. Not like that. You're becomin' everythin' I don't like in a pony, Derpy. You make excuses to do evil things. But...somepony has to. You do what I can't. You give us what I couldn't. You're what we need, and you're what I hate. You're like a symbol, Derpy, and we all darn near worship that symbol...but that don't mean I like the mare. And t'would make things easier on both of us if you was to stop expectin' me to."

Derpy said nothing. Neither did Big Mac. The fire crackled.

At long last, Derpy spoke. "I'm...a symbol?"

"We started as farmers. We're an army now, and you're darn famous across the occupied territories. At this rate we'll field ten thousand ponies by mid-April, and if it weren't for you we'd all still be in Ponyville."

"...yeah. And if it weren't for me, there'd still be a Ponyville."

"It wasn't your fault. Bad stuff happens when there's a dust-up goin' on. What's important is that you're the biggest reason there's even a ruckus in this part of Equestria."

"Oh, Mac, if I'm that important, why doesn't anypony like me?"

"General, you're not askin'. You're fishin'. It's unseemly."

"God damn it, no! I'm serious! I'm all alone. Nopony talks to me. It used to be just you but now it's nopony. Even Davenport acts all unnatural around me and finds excuses not to be near my quarters and he's supposed to be my aide. I just sit alone reading and painting and writing letters to my daughter that I'll never get to send, because I don't even know which corner of Equestria she's in and I probably never will. And now whenever I say anything everypony does it and they never ever say anything but 'yes General' but then I see nasty pamphlets circulating through camp and ponies talk about me behind my back like I'm some sort of monster but every time I say anything they cheer me and goddamn it I'm so alone I'm so alone I'm so alone Mac."

She was crying now.

"Gener--Derpy. I'm sorry. But you're right. You are alone. You ain't one of us, and that's just the way it has to be. Leadership ain't just bein' popular and givin' nice speeches. It's carryin' thousands of ponies at once. You got to bear it alone, because that's what leadership is."

"You're lying," she sniffed. "Lots of leaders have husbands and wives and stuff."

"I ain't read too many books, but ain't nobody ever told me 'bout a general bringin' his wife along on the march."

"...I don't know, Mac." She wiped her eyes and stared at the fire. "I don't think it's true that I've got to be alone. Maybe ponies just don't like me."

Mac stood up. "General, I think we're past the point where this is a useful conversation. I don't like goin' in circles. Permission to leave."

Derpy blinked, but kept gazing ahead. "...okay. Permission granted, Major."

She sat alone. Completely alone. She was used to being alone. But it seemed for a bit like she wasn't. She liked giving speeches and being a leader because it seemed like ponies liked her; they listened to her and cheered her and spoke nicely to her. It wasn't real, though. They cheered because they liked feeling hopeful. They cheered because they liked feeling strong. But that was all they liked. They didn't like her. Mayor Mare was right. They really weren't her foals. It was a good way of thinking of them for a while, but there were better ways. She knew there were better ways. They were her weapons--her willing weapons. Her soldiers were her arrows, and her speeches were how she strung the bow, and her strategies were how she aimed her shots, and her orders were how she loosed them. And that meant it was her--her alone--against the gryphon armies.

A spark landed on her fur. She blew it off. So she was alone. Well. She knew how to be alone. Alone as a filly was how she learned to fight bullies. Alone as a mare was how she raised Dinky. Alone as a captain was how she had learned to fight gryphons. And alone as a general was how she was going to fight--until she won or she died.

Alone. She was alone. Truly and completely alone.

She looked around her. Dim silhouettes of ponies walked and sat by their fires. She couldn't make out their identities. She realized their identities didn't matter--they couldn't matter. They were still her ponies, and she still loved them all. But if she wanted to keep them alive, she had to win. And if she wanted to win, she had to fight alone.

She got to her feet, and began walking back to her tent. And as she walked, she remembered being a filly on the awkward cusp of puberty. And she remembered how isolated she was when the ponies mocked her and bit her. And she remembered how she felt when she--she against all of them, against all of the world--kicked that one chestnut bastard in the mouth. She remembered how she felt alone as they circled around her menacingly. She remembered how she felt alone as she broke the snout of another. She remembered how she felt alone as they fled from her. And she remembered looking at the trace of blood on her hoof, and realizing that she would never be bullied again. And she remembered feeling that being alone was the most liberating, most empowering thing in the world.

She arrived at her tent. She entered, and pulled a scroll out of her old mailbag. She unrolled it. It was her most recent painting--Dinky napping in the sun, in front of Carrot Top's flower bed. She smiled, and pulled her brush and ink out of her old mailbag.

Tomorrow they would arrive at Rollinghoof. She would have to have a clear mind.

> XIX. Rollinghoof, Equestria. March, 1252. 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rollinghoof, Equestria. March, 1252. 

Lyra shivered. The mud was cold. It was warmer than it had been, but winter still influenced the weather. And they had spent so long just lying there on their stomachs in the mud. The cold, cold mud. The tall grasses--General Hooves said they'd block the gryphons' vision--blocked the sun, too. Somehow, they didn't do anything against the wind. But it wouldn't be long now. They could hear voices, low and throaty. Grass rustling. The noise, coming closer. Closer. She felt her heart pounding. Her fur--the part that wasn't caked in mud--was covered in a cold, oily sweat. She swallowed. This was always the worst part.  She looked to her left. Grass. She looked to her right. More grass.

She whistled, softly, gently, sounding like a far-off bird. To her left, a creamy hoof slid into view. She pressed her own hoof against it. They clicked together. Lyra was ready. So was Bon Bon.

Suddenly, there was another whistle: high, piercing, and loud. And immediately, as she had practiced, Lyra stood up. She felt the tension disappear; only adrenaline remained. She had been drilled. She had been tested. And her training took over. One long whistle means stand and charge. And so she did. And, she saw, so did everyone else.

The charge was surreal, as it always was. It was a horrible flight of imagination; it was a slow-motion fantasy. Six hundred colorful ponies, running through the grass, closed in on eight hundred bewildered gryphons standing around cow-pulled carts. Behind the gryphons were the thatched-roof huts of Rollinghoof. In every other direction was a quickly-closing mass of ponies. The gryphons squawked and extended their wings and took off, a cloud of feathers and fur and steel armor. From the safety of the air they apprised the situation. Their forces were clearly larger and noticiably better-equipped than the charging pony army. They began to coalesce into attack formations, their talon-held spears glinting in the sun. The ponies stopped charging. They began to form a defensive line. Bon Bon stood next to Lyra, her lame legs shaking.

Then the winds came. Two hundred pegasi came rushing through in an earsplitting roar, tearing the air above and under the gryphons from every direction, each propelling the winds with all the ancestral ability they could summon. Low clouds disintigrated into wisps--and wisps into mists--as the sky became a rats' nest of intertwining gusts. Controlled flight became impossible, and gryphons and pegasi alike tumbled to the ground. The pegasi were prepared; they spread their wings in a makeshift parachute and focused only on trying to make as a soft landing as possible. The gryphons, trying to stay aloft and in formation, crashed hard to the ground--into the mass of waiting ponies.

The gryphons hit the ground in a clanking pitter-patter. As each crashed to the ground and struggled to pick his battered or broken body off the ground, he was dispatched by a series of kicks to the skull. It was in no sense a battle. It was a massacre. The gryphons who managed to survive the landing--and who managed to avoid being mobbed--retreated towards the town in a panic; there a small band of officers waved rally flags or ran around ordering each of the cow-pulled carts to retreat. 

When the last airborne gryphon had fallen to the ground, Derpy took stock of the situation. The road that ran through the town was being blocked by about a hundred gryphon survivors in tight formation: they braced their spears against the ground as if they were lions defending against a pegasus charge. The marshland on either side of the town was barely passable. The gryphons were unflankable and a charge was out of the question.

She motioned with a hoof to the unicorns manning the army's salvaged 6-pound cannon. They carefully floated a cannonball out of their makeshift little wood furnace, loaded it, and fired directly into the town. The super-heated cannonball crashed through the straw roof of a two-story cottage. Immediately flames spread through the roof from the singed point of entry, and whipped by the wild winds, spread to a nearby roof. Within a matter of minutes, the blaze was a conflagration consuming half the town. 

Through her binoculars, Derpy watched the gryphons begin to turn and run back through the burning town. A flaming building collapsed into the street, cutting off the retreat of all but a few. They stopped, hesitated for a half-minute, then ran back out at Derpy's army in a desperate charge--clearly they had heard stories of what the Grey Mare did to her prisoners. Derpy shook her head, then ordered defensive lines to be reformed. She hated her reputation, but it was certainly helpful at times.

She looked over at the tree she had told the Crusaders to sit in. They would have had a clear view of the whole proceeding. Surely now they saw how unforgiving war was; surely they now knew how unfair and brutal it had to be. After the suicide charge had been swept aside, perhaps she would go and talk with them about what they had seen.

She blinked. The Crusaders were nowhere near their tree.



---------------



Stripengeti Savanna, Punda-Milia. March, 1252.



Now: Gilda saying, "Screwball? You there?"

A foal smiling. The black, endless space punctured by stars. The husks of blind, mindless gods floating at the edge of reality and potential. A gryphon child being fed by its mother. A field of grass gently swaying. Rock stretching for miles in every direction. Discord's face contorting in pain and terror as his body turns into stone. A school of fish swirling and playing in the ocean. Diseased pony corpses being thrown into empty pits. Space. The sun shining on a mountain face. Now: Gilda, saying "Screwball, listen. They said we should look in the city of Akhana. Is that right?"

City. City. City. Remember. A city on a mountain, populated by gryphons. Capture and interrogation. Meeting Gilda. No. A city of ponies twisted by chaos. Freedom. Discord's return. His imprisonment. No. A city of zebras. Gilda reading in the library. Yes.

A city of zebras!

Flower petals falling in an autumn breeze. An elderly doe lying peacefully down to die. Space. Now: Gilda, saying "We know that, nutbar. Is it the right one?"

City of zebras. Look. Many of them. A city of high walls and houses carved into a mountainside. We are not there. No. A city of tents stretched out across the plains, pigs in cages. We are not there. No. A city of twisting alleys under cotton awnings. We are there. We are dead. Yes.

A city of twisting alleys under cotton awnings. But I think we die there.

An apple falling to the ground. The sun and moon swinging through the sky. An apple rotting on the ground. Now: Gilda saying "That sounds like the place, but it ain't gonna fly, Screwy. Where do we find the scroll and live?"

Scroll. Live. Look. A library. Me talking to the zebras. They are angry. Gilda talking to the zebras. They are helpful. They give her a scroll. A zebra talks to me. I respond. They are angry. I do not respond. They are angry. I am in the guise of a cripple. A zebra does not talk to me. They are helpful. Yes.

The same city. They're angry after they talk to me. Don't let them talk to me. It looks like it's okay if I'm dressed up like I'm really sick. Then they don't like to look at me so they don't talk to me and we can find our target and get back to the war!

A large cake being eaten by a pink pony. Now: Frankie saying "Um...so how's the war going?  Do you know what's going on there?"

War. Look. A pebble shifts and bounces down the mountain. A boulder sits silently in a forest of evergreen trees. Space. A snowflake falls over an ocean. Rock. Dust. Ash. Ash blowing in the wind. Fire. Yes.

A town on fire. Look. Gryphons scatter. There is shock. There is fear. A Talon is there. He has a letter from the king. He will give it to the general leading their army. He will change their principal objectives. He does not fight in the melee. But he flees when the town is on fire. He must protect the letter. A building collapses. There is fire. He is pinned by a beam. He burns. He dies. Now he will not give the letter to anyone.

There's a battle going on. One of Frankie's friends was there. He's dead now. Or will be. The army won't receive orders it needs to.

Fire. The town is on fire. The letter is picked up by a gryphon. The gryphon runs through an alley. The gryphon captures a pony. A pony. There are young ponies in a building. They are frightened. They leap out a window. There are gryphons all about them. Young ponies standing in a street. A street winding through a marsh. Tadpoles swimming through marsh water. A wave breaking on a beach. A crab skittering across the sand. Rock stretching for miles below. Molten rock flowing. Now: Gilda saying, "So what'll happen to the army?" Now: Frankie saying, "Who was it?"

I don't understand. What are you talking about?

Now: Gilda and Frankie saying, "The battle." They are frustrated.

Battle. Remember. A gust knocking a dead tree branch down. A gryphon shopkeeper weighing a leg of mutton. New grass growing. Thunderclouds covering a plain. Stars dying in a dying galaxy. A bird landing on a singing pony's head.

I'm sorry. I don't remember a battle. Is there a battle? I'll let you know if I see one!



---------------



Rollinghoof, Equestria. March, 1252.



Scootaloo pressed her snout against the window, her breath intermittantly fogging the window. Beyond her stretched fifty yards of closely-clustered wooden houses, and beyond that, a field and a marsh, both filled with ponies and gryphons in one-sided combat. She exhaled sharply, sending a quickly-vanishing cloud of fog across the window.  "Look at it. They're tearing 'em apart."

Apple Bloom's face was right next to Scootaloo's. "I'll say. Big brother's kicked like ten of 'em. I think he killed 'em dead, too; ain't none of 'em gotten up since. I...I ain't never seen him hurt anypony before." She looked uneasy.

"Yeah, isn't it cool? See, Sweetie Belle," Scootaloo said, nudging her in the ribs. "You said this would be dangerous. Look at what a great view we've got."

Sweetie Belle was on the other side of Scootaloo. "I dunno, guys, a bunch of 'em have run back to where we can't see them. What if they come in here?"

"Nah, why would they even bot--kkhkhbm--to do someth--eeeeeEEEEEXKCHKBM" Scootaloo's reply was cut short by the sudden report of a cannon firing and a shot crashing through the roof. All three immediately collapsed to the ground, covering their ears. One second. Five seconds. They huddled in shock. The house creaked ominously. Ten seconds. They heard wood collapsing. Fifteen seconds. One by one they gingerly turned to look behind them. Dust filled the room. The floor and back wall were splintered where the shot had crashed through, leaving ragged holes a pony could stick her head through. The rough edges of the impact points were smoldering, and a few small flames were beginning to kindle.

The fillies looked around the room, now standing on their feet. Sweetie Belle noticed a crackling noise, and an odd draft. She glanced upwards. "...fire," she said in a quiet, nervous voice. The others didn't reply. "Fire," she said again. There was a pause. "There's a fire," she said a bit louder, and began backing towards the rickety staircase. 

Apple Bloom looked at Sweetie Belle, and then at the roof. The thatching above their heads was on fire.  A clump of burning straw and pitch fell to the floor and onto a rug, which itself began to burn.

Sweetie Belle turned and broke into a run, but stopped when she reached the staircase--or, rather, where it had been. It had collapsed after the impact. She looked down; it was now a broken mess of shattered wood.

Apple Bloom came up beside her. "...I think we gotta jump," Sweetie said, her eyes wide.

"We can't jump down on that," Apple Bloom replied. "It'll tear us up."

Scootaloo ran up between the two, then slid to a halt. "C'mon! We've got to! The building's on fire!" 

"We know it's on fire," Sweetie shouted. "It's obviously on fire. And we shouldn't even be here!"

"And I know we shouldn't be here," Scootaloo said. "But we are and it's on fire so we've got to get down!"

Apple Bloom looked over her shoulder, through the smoky room. "There," she yelled, then jumped, twisted her body around, then took off sprinting towards the window--or rather, where the window had been. She leapt through the open hole, then fell out of sight.

"Right," said Scootaloo. "The window. There we go. We'll be fine--"

"--no we won't, Scootaloo. It's just as far a drop there as here."

"It's a second-story window. We'll be fine!"

"No, you'll be fine. You have wings. I don't."

"Look, the staircase is only dangerous because of all the broken wood. We can--"

"--maybe there's broken wood outside too."

"Rrrgh! C'mon!" Scootaloo turned and ran through the smoke, then jumped through the window, her wings fluttering as she glided gently to the ground. She hit the ground softly, next to Apple Bloom. She picked herself up off the ground, then coughed the smoke out of her lungs. "You--khh--okay, Apple Bloom?"

"'Course I'm okay," she said, shrugging. "I've jumped off things way higher than this. Where's Sweetie Belle?"

"I'm up here," she called from the window. "I'm...I don't wanna come down. I don't think I can--"

"C'mon!" Apple Bloom shouted from the narrow alleyway. "This entire place is nothing but wood and straw, we need to get--"

"--GET DOWN NOW!" Scootaloo shouted. She grabbed Apple Bloom and pulled her under a watering trough against a nearby wall.

"Hey, what the heck're you try--urk--" Apple Bloom's complaint was cut off as Scootaloo wrapped her front leg around her friend's mouth. 

"Shh," she whispered, motioning with her other hoof to the left. "Gryphons coming down this alley." Scootaloo began pulling Apple Bloom futher back, through a hole in the wall.

Apple Bloom's eyes bugged. At that moment, Sweetie Belle's voice called out. "...guys? Where'd you just go? All right, I'm coming down. You better not have ditched me."

Apple Bloom tried to shout a warning, but Scootaloo had already wrapped her other leg around her mouth.

They head Sweetie say to herself, "Here I go." Two seconds later, they heard her hit the ground roughly. For three more seconds, they sat in wide-eyed silence. And then they heard Sweetie shriek.



Smoke choked out the sky, but the flames in every direction made the alley brighter than any daylight. The two fillies shouted to hear each other over the rushing winds.

"SCOOTALOO, WHAT'S THE HAY IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU JUST LET HER GET KIDNAPPED."

"THERE WERE THREE OF THEM! WE'D ALL HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED OR KILLED OR SOMETHING."

"WE ONLY CAME HERE SO'S YOU COULD FIGHT GRYPHONS, RIGHT?! WHY BRING US HERE IF YOU WERE JUST GONNA CHICKEN OUT SOON AS YOU SAW ONE?"

"ONE AGAINST THREE ISN'T BRAVE; IT'S STUPID!"

"IT WOULDA BEEN THREE AGAINST THREE IF YOU HADN'T PULLED ME INTO THAT DUMB HOLE!"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! LET'S JUST GET OUT OF HERE ALREADY!"

"WHAT, YOU MEAN LIKE RUN AWAY? WITH SWEETIE CAPTURED?"

"I MEAN LIKE 'NOT GET BURNED TO DEATH!'"

"NO! THEY WENT THAT WAY. WE'RE GONNA RESCUE SWEETIE BELLE."

"TWO AGAINST THREE IS IMPOSSIBLE."

"THREE AGAINST THREE WOULDA BEEN TOUGH. THEN YOU CHICKENED OUT, SO NOW WE GOTTA GO TWO AGAINST THREE, AND THAT'S GONNA BE TOUGHER. IF'N YOU CHICKEN OUT AGAIN, I'M STILL GOIN', AND THAT'LL BE ONE AGAINST THREE. HIDIN' JUST MAKES IT WORSE FOR EVERYPONY."

"STOP CALLING ME A CHICKEN!"

"YOU WANTED TO BE AT THE FIGHT, AND NOW WE'RE AT THE FIGHT. SO C'MON AN' FIGHT ALREADY."

"ARE YOU STUPID OR SOMETHING? I WANTED TO WATCH A FIGHT, NOT TAKE ON A BUNCH OF GRYPHONS BY MYSELF. WE'LL JUST GET KILLED!"

"OH, YEAH? THAT WHAT YOUR RAINBOW DASH DOES, SCOOTALOO? RUN AWAY AND LET HER FRIENDS ALL DIE 'CAUSE SHE DON'T WANNA GET HURT?"

"IT--IT'S NOT THE SAME! I JUST DON'T WANNA-"

"IT'S THE EXACT SAME! BEIN' BRAVE DON'T JUST MEAN DOIN' DANGEROUS FUN STUFF. IT MEANS DOIN' DANGEROUS SCARY STUFF. NOW GET YOUR HOOVES IN GEAR!"

Apple Bloom turned and galloped through the town. Scootaloo hesitated, grimaced, then took off after her, her wings buzzing to give her extra speed.

The two ran through the burning town, squinting their eyes against the ash, running in the center of the road to avoid falling planks and embers.

"Do we--*kff*--have a--*kuff*--plan," Scootaloo coughed out as she ran.

"Yeah. *kff-kff* Shut up and follow me." Apple Bloom began to run a bit faster.

Scootaloo matched her pace. "But how do--*kaff kff kff*--we know--*kff kff*--"

"I said shut up! Don't breathe--*kff*--more'n you need to!"

They charged through the street, past the last buildings, and out of the town entirely.



The cold mud stuck to their fur as they crawled through the reeds. Ahead, they heard piercing voices arguing. They moved slowly, never making more noise than the wind or currents did. They came up to where the brown, dead cattails began to thin out, and peeked through the waving strands. Ahead were three gryphons, a map, a bag, and a bound white filly. Scootaloo swallowed hard. They were big--big even for gryphons. Their bodies were thick and muscular, and their thick armor shone in the sun. Near them they had a few swords and spears leaned against trees.

"Told ya I knew how to find 'em," Apple Bloom whispered.

"Big deal," Scootaloo whispered back, "there was only one way they could have ran."

"Hmph. You didn't seem to figure it out."

"'Course I did. I just...y'know. Didn't want to say it. Wanted to know if you knew. You know."

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. "Anyways. We're right on top of 'em and they ain't gonna bicker forever. So here's what we do. You distract all three of 'em for a minute while I untie Sweetie Belle. Then us two jump one of 'em, and we go two-on-one while you keep the other two busy. Then we go two-on-one again, then three-on-one for the last one."

"That's kinda complicated. And...they look really strong. Can't we just fight 'em and get it over with?"

"Scoot, they're like twice our size. More than. We're probably not gonna win this even with some thinkin' beforehand. We'd have no chance if we just ran at 'em."

"So...you're saying that we were smart to not just fight 'em in the alleyway without a plan or anything? Is that what you're saying? I mean, look at them, we obviously can't--"

"--we can argue about it later," Apple Bloom hissed. "Now c'mon. Three. Two."

"--wait, no, I don't--"

"One." 

Scootaloo yelped as Apple Bloom shoved her forward, causing the gryphons to all turned to look at the sudden appearance of an orange filly ten feet from them. Scootaloo glared back over her shoulder, then back at the gryphons. Then, with a sudden cry, she sprinted forward--directly at them. They stood and faced her. She swerved off to the side, and began running tight circles around them. They looked quizzically at her: the ambush had been surprising, the windstorm more so, and the firestorm more so, but a tiny screaming pony running angry little rings around them was stretching the limits of what constituted a normal day's work.

"Oh, hi Scootaloo," Sweetie Belle said cheerily.

Scootaloo then leapt into the air, and kicked one in the face. She fell on her back in front of him. He flinched, and lifted a claw to his face, but was otherwise unaffected.

"Pony girl," he said in a thick accent, "vhat are you doing?"

"Apple Bloom!" Scootaloo yelled. "C'mon and...wait, huh? Aren't you gonna like kill me now?"

He shrugged. "Zere are more? Interesting. Come out, little pony. You are safe. Vhy vould ve vant to kill you?

Another gryphon nodded. She spoke in a similar accent. "Yes, ve have no interest in killing children. Our goal is to liberate Equestria, yes? How vould killing children help zat?"

Sweetie nodded. "I'm a hostage," she said with a smile.

The first gryphon chuckled. "She seems quite taken vith the prospect. But she is right. Ve simply need a bargaining chip to assure us passage to safe territory. Ve do not vish to harm any...how do you say it...to harm anypony."

Apple Bloom came running out. "That's a load of horseapples and you know it! You gryphons have killed thousands of ponies! I've seen it!"

The second one shrugged. "Yes, our generals have ordered it, so ve hear. And so has your Grey Mare. Zis I hear too. And she tortures and kills gryphon prisoners, too, does she not? But I hear she vas a lovely voman before. Var is not a pleasant business. Ve cannot judge vhat others have found necessary to do."

The third one, a male, interjected. He had a different accent entirely. "Heck, I never thought I'd be kidnappin' some lil' girl to stay alive, but we ain't gonna hurt her, and it sure as heck beats gettin' my head kicked in or some business like that. We're just gonna trade 'er at a town for safe passage back to liberated territory. Then she goes back home, we go back home, and everyone's happy."

Scootaloo picked herself up off the ground. "You...don't want to hurt us?"

The second one laughed. "Pony girl, if I vanted to hurt you, vouldn't I have done it vhen you vere on your back gaping up at me?"

The first one nodded. "Yes. Ve do not quarrel vith you. You may go if you vant. But ze vhite vun must stay."

Scootaloo huffed. "I don't care how friendly you act. You're gryphons and I don't trust you and I'm not just gonna let you walk away with her."

The first one shrugged blandly. "You can come too, if you vish to see for yourself that she is not harmed. Actually it vould be better for us if you did; ssree ponies are vorss more zan vun. But ve vill not demand it. It is your choice."

The third one interjected again. "Yeah, Nicky, but if take 'em then we gotta bind 'em too. If they let the white one out when we're sleepin' or somethin' then we're screwed, y'know?"

"Zat is true," the first replied.

"Actually," Sweetie Belle said, "My name isn't 'the white one.' It's Sweetie Belle."

"And I'm Scootaloo, and I'm not gonna let you take Sweetie Belle alone!" She walked next to Sweetie Belle and struck a defiant pose.

"And I'm Apple Bloom, and I'm coming too, and you better be honest about this." She walked to the other side of Sweetie Belle.

The second gryphon smiled fondly. "Zey are cute, Nikolai." She leaned in. "It is nice to meet such brave young ponies. You may call me Anna."

The first raised an eyebrow. "So ve are taking all ssree? Very vell. If ve are introducing ourselves, then I am, as she says, Nikolai."

The third spoke as he rooted through his bag. "And I'm Rolf, and I guess I'll be your captor today." He pulled out some rope. "Nothin' too harsh; I just gotta keep you from flyin' or runnin' or kickin'. I promise you'll have it off in less than a week."

Scootaloo narrowed her eyes. "I'm not gonna let some gryphon tie me up and take me prisoner."

"You are not a prisoner," Anna said. "Only Sveet Bell is. You may come vith her and vith us if you like. Ve have some conditions for our safety. If you do not like zem, zen you may leave now. If you do come, you may leave at any time you vish. And if you come, you all vill be free first town ve arrive at."

"How do I know you're not trickin' us? That this ain't some big plan to take us back to your leader or somethin'?"

Anna laughed again. "Pony, vhat possible reason vould ve have to drag ssree pony girls a ssousand miles? If ze king vanted a pony girl, zere are easier vays to get vun zan to send nearly a ssousand gryphons vith a month of supplies for ze army, lose zem all in an ambush, have us ssree escape vith only our lives, have us come across a trespassing pony girl, zen have us valk her halfvay across ze continent."

"Yeah," Rolf said, "we'd probably just kidnap somebody from the borderlands. Or, from what I hear, we could just put up a flyer in Fillydelphia or somewhere sayin' 'hey, the gryphons want a volunteer,' and we'd get a hundred applications by sundown."

"Well..." Apple Bloom said hesitantly.

"We'll do it," Scootaloo said. "So bind us already."

Apple Bloom looked back at the plume of smoke behind them. "...yeah. Okay. But hurry. We got people who'll worry 'bout us."


---------



Davenport saluted, carrying the post-battle reports. "It wasn't pretty to watch, General, and I don't think it'll work again, but I can't argue with the results. 620 of the enemy dead, 150 prisoner, and nearly every supply cart captured. Fewer than ten casualties on our own side. Plus minimal loss of life among enslaved cows, and Rollinghoof was an evacuated tinderbox anyway. One to be proud of, to be sure."

Derpy kept painting. On the scroll in front of her, in rough brushstrokes, she had outlined three fillies. A teardrop fell between the wings of the middle one.
> XX. Chestnutpeake Wetlands, Equestria. March, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XX. Chestnutpeake Wetlands, Equestria. March, 1252.
Day One.



The strange band walked along the path as it wound through the marshlands. There was a bit of a chill in the air, but it was a chill that carried the promise of warmth. The skies were blue and beautiful, and small clouds drifted unbidden through the sky. In the distance, they could see the sunlight sparkling on the waters of Chestnutpeake bay.

"So, um...Nikolai," Apple Bloom said, looking around as she walked.

"Yes, Apple Blossom?" the gryphon replied.

Apple Bloom snapped her attention to the gryphon. "Name's Apple Bloom, beaky. Apple Blossom's my cousin. Second cousin once removed? Or first cousin twice removed. Never was too keen on the difference."

"I apologize. Is zat vhat you vanted to tell me?"

"Nah. I wanted to ask ya why ya speak in such a silly accent. I mean, y'all are all gryphons, but you and Anna talk kinda weird."

He smiled. "I vanted to ask you a similar qveshtion."

"Whaddya mean, accent?" Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. "I talk like everypony else does."

"Of course, of course." Nikolai made a little hand-waving motion with his claw. "But vhere are you from, little pony?"

"Ponyville. Like my friends are." She tossed her head in the direction of Scootaloo.

"And your family? Such as Apple Blossom?"

"Aw, we're all over the map! We started out in the Ponyzark mountains, from what I hear, and now we're plum everwhere! Finest apple farmers in Equestria!" She closed her eyes and smiled as she talked.

"Ah, you see! You speak vith the voice of your mountain home, zough you are ssoroughly pony." He winked.  "I am ze same way! Anna and I come from ze mountains of Korella'gryph. Qvite a long way to travel, no?"

"Ain't never heard of it." Apple Bloom squinted and looked straight ahead. "And I do talk like everypony else does. Y'all gryphons must have feathers in your ears."

"But...you have not heard of the mighty tvin peaks of Korella'gryph? Ze Shoulders of ze Vorld? Ze mountains zat bear ze sky? Ze home of--"

"--nope. Sounds dumb. And borin'."

On the other side of Nikolai, Anna laughed. "You see? I told you ze ponies are taught nossing of ze vorld. How can you blame zem for fighting if zey do not even understand vhy zere is a var in ze first place?"

Nikolai gave a tiny shrug. "Well, zen, little pony, how do you ssink ze sky is kept vhere it belongs?"

"I dunno. Celestia probably put some magic on it to keep it up."

"But she is not fifteen hundred years old, and ze vorld is much older. How do you ssink ze vorld vas kept in place before her?"

"...never really thought none about it."

He smiled generously. "Of course you do not. Ze sky is rightly held up by ze vorld--by ze Shoulders of ze Vorld. Ze sun and moon bear zemselves in most of ze vorld, and did in your home for most of history. If left alone, ze clouds are perfectly capable of moving zemselves. You see? Look up at ze sky. Is zis ssriving, natural beauty not preferable to ze sterile mechanical arrangements your vinged ponies build? Is nature not ze best caretaker of nature?"

"Maybe it is, maybe it ain't. Applejack told me th' apple trees in th' Everfree Forest grow by theirselves, and their apples ain't one quarter as big or as juicy as ours are. Don't grow as fast neither, not without Earth-pony magic"

"But zey are real apples, made by ze land and ssrough ze grace of ze spirits of your ancestors."

"So what?!" Apple Bloom shouted, "why do y'all care!? Is this what this is all about? Y'all don't think our apples are good enough for ya, because--what? They're too good? That don't make a lick of sense!"

"It is not about your lands, pony girl. It is about vhat is best for ze vorld. Eqvestria is dead to the ancestors and to nature. And ze death is spreading."

"Dead? It's the beautifulest land on Earth! How can you walk through all this and say it's dead?"

He shook his head. "Eqvestria is not natural. Ze entire country is managed like a garden. It is not right."

"And if'n your neighbor had a real pretty garden, would you burn down his house to make him get rid of it?"

There was a minute of silence.

"Vell...if your neighbor's garden vas spreading and choking your apple orchard, vould you sit and do nossing?"

There was an hour of silence.



Day Two.



Scootaloo walked happily down the trail. They had unbound her wings--any flighted creature is quite capable of recognizing when another is grounded. She flapped them occasionally, relishing the feeling of air resistance. They had been growing the past few weeks; they ached in the mornings and when she flapped hard, but they were catching more air than ever before. The sensation of wing pushing against air made her giddy. It wouldn't be long now until she could fly--truly fly. She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes against the sunlight. The wind blew, and she extended her wings to catch it. She felt her body weight drop noticably, and she grinned.

"Yeah, I remember when I was a lil' fledglin' too," a voice behind her said. "Lemme burst a bubble for ya now--flyin' is hard as hell when ya start out, man. It takes all ya got just to stay aloft. It ain't fun for the first few months. It ain't easy for the first year. And it takes a ton of practice."

Scootaloo blushed and wrapped her wings tight against her sides. "Um--what? No. I wasn't--"

Rolf laughed. "C'mon, man, there ain't nothin' wrong with it! Any kid with wings can't wait to use 'em! Just means you're fulfillin' your callin', 'sall. Your parents would be proud to see it!"

Scootaloo suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Well, actually..."

Rolf cocked his head emphatically. "Oh, kid, that's rough. Was it the war? Or--no, no, never mind, not my business. But if they've gone to your ancestral hall, then I'm gonna double down on that statement. They are seein' it, and they are proud. Take it to the bank, kiddo."

"We...we don't have ancestral halls. I don't even know what that means."

"Sure ya do. You gotta soul, right? Don't tell me you don't." He winked.

"Well...I guess."

"Right. And it's gotta go somewhere once your body's done with, right?"

"I suppose, but..."

"And where else would it want to go than with all your ancestors? You miss your parents, right? Imagine how nice it'll be to see 'em again. And how much nicer it'll be to see your grandparents, and your great-grandparents, and your great-greats, and all the way back. Thousands of family members, all delighted to see ya, all tellin' ya how proud they are of ya, and then ya take your place at the table with 'em."

"Um...we don't really believe in that."

"So? If I said I didn't believe in oceans, would it change the fact? Ain't never seen one."

"The bay is right over there." Scootaloo pointed with a hoof.

"Whatever! Ain't seen one before this trip. Convince me. Convince me oceans are real."

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. "What are you going on about? Everypony knows oceans are real."

Rolf raised his eyebrow back. "Everybody knows ancestral halls are real."

"But...the rivers have to go somewhere, right?"

Rolf smiled mischeviously. "Your soul's gotta go somewhere, right?"

"But...a soul could go anywhere."

"A river could go anywhere."

"Oceans just make sense! Where else would all the water go? A hole? Then that hole would become an ocean!"

"Ancestral halls just make sense. Where else would all the souls of a family go? A hole? Then that hole would become an ancestral hall." Rolf laughed in self-satisfaction.

"This conversation is dumb, Rolf. I'm not a gryphon and you won't make me one by arguing this stupid stuff."

"Your loss, kid. I'm just tryin' to help."

"Well...if you guys want to help us you could start by leaving us alone."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"...it really is, Rolf."



Day Three



Sweetie Belle rode on Anna's back. The other fillies were mostly unbound now; only a single leash-like cord remained. A light sprinkling of rain fell, but not enough to noticably wet their fur.

"So...um...Anna," Sweetie Belle said.

"Yes, Sveet Bell?"

"That's not my name."

"I know. But it is a prettier name. 'Sveetie Belle' means a passive girl, does it not? A beautiful young voman who is a little sveetie to everyone. Submissive--to zose who do not deserve it--is not an honorable ssing for any person to be. A voman should be respected for who she is and not how she bows down to everyone else. Now, 'Sveet Bell' means a fine craftvork zat makes a beautiful sound. A 'Sveet Bell' is valuable because of vhat it is. A 'Sveetie Belle,' on ze ozer hand, is valuable because she ignores who she is to make ozers happy."

"But my name is Sweetie Belle."

"And my name is Anasztazia. But I choose to go by Anna, because my name is hard for people outside my home to remember. I balance who I am viss vhat I vish to show ze vorld. Ve cannot help who ve are, Sveet Bell. But ve can choose vhich parts of us ve show ze vorld."

"That's dumb, Anna. I'm Sweetie Belle through and through. And I'm not gonna be 'Sweet Bell' because somepony thinks it's gonna sound nicer."

"Life is balancing your inside self and your outside self."

"No it isn't. My sister always says life is about embracing who you are. I'm Sweetie Belle and I'm not ever gonna be anything but Sweetie Belle. And I don't know exactly what being Sweetie Belle means yet, but when I get my cutie mark, I'll be all Sweetie Belle all day long."

Anna laughed. "And zere is nossing ironic about 'embracing yourself' because anozer pony told you to?"

Sweetie Belle wore a look of intense concentration. "Is irony the one where you find something when you're looking for something else? Or is that serenity--"

"--zat is serendipity. And I ssink you are missing ze point--"

"--or maybe it's solarity. Is that a word? No, that isn't a word. Anyway, Rarity is really smart. It would be great if I ended up just like her."

There was a brief pause. "You know, Sveet Bell, I ssought ze same of my sister."

"Was she a soldier too?"

"Ha! Certainly not. She vas a jeweler, like my fazzer vas."

"No way! Mine's a dressmaker! That's like the same!"

"So it is. And you vant to be like her?"

Sweetie beamed. "Just like her."

"So did I. She vas graceful. She vas beautiful. She vore imported peacock feazzers and gold circlets viss embedded jewels and vas everyssing a girlchick like me vanted to be."

"Yeah..." Sweetie said, dreamily. "She's so elegant."

"Yes. Zen I realized I did not like ze hours of painstaking work under magnifying crystals. Very frustrating. I liked vorking viss muscle and sveat. So I became a carpenter--very revarding vork. I enjoyed it very much. But zen my sister caught grippe and died and as ze oldest child I had to qvit being a carpenter and take over ze family business and be a jeweler." She shrugged. "Ze ancestors have a vicked sense of humor sometimes."

"So...how did you become a soldier?"

"I enlisted vhen ze var started. I am from a brave line. My ancestors appreciate piety towards ze family traditions, but look most favorably upon zzose who serve ze king viss zzeir blood." She smiled slyly. "And it vas a good excuse to give ze store to my younger brozzer. I hoped I vould be given a plot of Eqvestrian farmland vhen ve von ze var, and zen I vould have a good excuse not to make any more bracelets. And vhat could be more honorable zan caretaking ancestors whose land vas liberated for ze first time in a millennium?"

Sweetie looked nervously around. "Um...you know. Not killing ponies and taking their land? That seems more honorable to me. I mean, that land you want...it's somepony's. It's somepony's and you don't have the right to take it."

"Vell...it's ultimately ze ancestors'."

"That just sounds like an excuse. Like your talk about joining the army to please your ancestors was. It's like you gryphons say 'the ancestors want this' whenever you really mean 'I want this.'"

Anna smiled broadly as she looked over her shoulder at Sweetie. "You have stumbled upon ze key to ze Gryphon heart, my little friend. You are qvite wise. Ze ancestors are very real--as real as your sister--but zeir voice is subtle. It is easy to confuse your vishes viss zeirs. Many do. I have seen many fights vhere both gryphons insist zey do not vant to do somessing but ze ancestors demand it--and zat somessing is exactly vhat a greedy fool vould do. Zat is vhy ve have kings; zey are best at telling vhat ze ancestors vant."

"But what if they don't care about what your ancestors want?"

"Of course zey do. Vhat kind of king vould not care about ze ancestors?"

"A bad one. Like--"

"--and ve vill hope ve do not ever have a bad one," Anna said quickly, cutting Sweetie Belle off.



Morning of Day Four.



The sun was warm--honestly warm, for what might have been the first time in months. Scootaloo skipped along the road, whistling to herself. Apple Bloom trotted happily beside them. Neither were bound. Sweetie Belle, still tied up, rode cheerfully on Nikolai's back, singing along to the tune Scootaloo was whistling.

Suddenly, Nikolai stopped walking. He spoke in a scolding voice. "Do not vhistle or sing zat song. It is an evil one. Ve are travelling togezzer and hope for a peaceful resolution to our situation. A song about zis var vill not bring ze right energy."

"It's not evil," Apple Bloom shouted. "Sweetie Belle doesn't write evil songs. It's a song about ponies workin' together to save their kin. That ain't evil."

"Wait--she wrote it? " said Rolf incredulously. He turned to Sweetie Belle. "You wrote La Chevallaise?" Sweetie nodded. "You're pullin' my leg here. You're just a kid we picked up in some town."

"Yeah," Sweetie said. "I've written lots of songs. Like...a bunch of 'em. Derpy told me she's even gonna make a little book of 'em."

"...you know ze Grey Mare. Personally." Anna spoke in a near monotone. "And you write famous propaganda songs. And you expect us to believe zis."

"Uh, of course we do," Scootaloo said. "Well I mean we all know Derpy. We've known her forever. She was our mailmare back in Ponyville. We used to go to school with her daughter. Sweetie's the only one who writes the songs, though."

"You wrote La Chevallaise." Anna continued, her voice audibly disturbed.

"Yes," Sweetie Belle said. She wasn't quite sure why they were making a big deal about it.

"You are personally close to ze Grey Mare. How close?"

Apple Bloom piped up. "She's in love with my big brother I think. And she's always real nice to us. She even let us tag along with the army even though she wouldn't let any other foals."

"Do you believe all zis, Nikolai?" Anna spoke in a voice that was far, far more serious than she had yet used around them.

"Truthfully I do. It is consistent viss all zey have said in separate conversations. If zey vere intelligent enough to organize zzeir lies, zey vould be vise enough to not say such ssings." His voice, too, was cold. "You understand, Anna, how zis changes ze situation."

"Wait, what--" Sweetie Belle started to say.

"I do." In one quick motion, she leapt forward and grabbed Scootaloo. At the same time, Rolf tackled and pinned Apple Bloom.

"Bind zem both." Nikolai said. It wasn't a necessary order. Rolf already had the ropes. 

"I apologize for ze abrupt change in our relationship, my little ponies," Anna said. "But you are vorth far, far more zan ve had believed."



Afternoon of Day Four.



They walked on, the Crusaders in a terrified silence, the gryphons debating how best to redeem their bounty.

"--yes, but I am telling you, Rolf, zat ve cannot simply tell ze pony army ve have ze girls. Zey vill find us, kill us, and take zem."

"Yes, but they wouldn't dare," Rolf said testily. "We have 'em as hostages. They try anything, we kill 'em. In fact, I'd think we should send the message attached to the yellow one's dead body. Let 'em know we have the white one and the orange one. It's the white one they'll want, and killin' another one will let 'em know we mean business."

Nikolai shook his head. "Yes, but you do not understand ze Grey Mare. She loves fiercely but is cruel vhen enraged. Zese girls are like her family, yes? If ve kill vun, zen she vill be made blind viss fury and vill stop at nothing to get her revenge. But she vill cooperate so long as she believes she can get zem back unharmed."

Scootaloo looked sadly back at Rolf and Nikolai, then back down at the ground.

Anna nodded in agreement. "Yes. But ve are approaching zis ze wrong vay. Ve should find passage to ze liberated regions. Perhaps barter our svords and armor; zose are vorthless in comparison to zese girls. Zen ve should give zem to ze army. Ve vill be revarded greatly."

A shadow flitted across the ground. Scootaloo cocked her head.

"Yes," said Nikolai. "But ze ssing is, ve are still deserters, and I am an officer and ze son of a nobleman. Ze army will know ve have fled a losing battle, especially if ve arrive vithout our armor or svords. Ve vill likely be executed as cowvards, vhich ve frankly do deserve. Zey vill qvietly take ze girls, and vill loudly kill us."

Another shadow flitted across the ground. Scootaloo looked up at the sky. She didn't see anything.

"Yes," said Anna, "but zey vill loudly proclaim zat zey have captured ponies dear to ze Grey Mare, and zey cannot do zat vissout inviting questions as to how, and zey cannot answer zem if zey kill us."

Another shadow. This time Scootaloo saw something. Her eyes opened wide.

"Yes," said Rolf, "but they aren't gonna brag about how Gryphonia kidnapped some pony kids, now are they? We're trying to liberate Equestria, and targeting kids ain't the way to win the ponyfolk over to our side, now is it?"

"Um, excuse me," Scootaloo said, "but...if we're so important...shouldn't we be moving faster?"

Rolf spoke irritatedly. "What." 

"I mean...we were going slow because we knew the army wasn't going to move out. Because they were waiting for the supply train."

"Right."

"But if you're saying Derpy is gonna trade anything to get us back, wouldn't that imply she would be looking for us? Like, right now? They'd have figured out we didn't die in the fire eventually. And you don't need a supply train to send out scouting parties. You can just send ponies. And they could arrive at any moment." She looked up and smiled.

"...by eight generations." Nikolai put a claw to his forehead. "She is right. Ve vere so foolish. Put zem on your backs and abandon everyssing else, ve must fly before--"

At once, there was a fluttering of wings, and immediately afterward, the sound of two unforgiving lances tearing through flesh. To Nikolai's left and right, Rolf and Anna dropped to the ground as bolts of color swept through his field of vision. Immediately after, he felt something hard crashing into his side. The white filly tumbled off him. The world tumbled around him. He grimaced. He was on his back. He tried getting up. He couldn't. There was a hoof on his chest. He opened his eyes.

A grey mare with crossed eyes glared down at him. "No. It's a bit late for that." She tossed her head to the side, and with a metallic rasp, a lance extended from under her cloak. Its point was pushed up against his throat. Nikolai swallowed hard. The movement of his throat against the spearhead cut his flesh.

Nikolai began to speak. "I vas--"

"I don't want to hear it," the mare said.

She thrusted her shoulder forward.
> XXI. Trottingham, Equestria. April, 1252
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

North of Rollinghoof, Equestria. March, 1252.


"You're being awful quiet, Miss Hooves," Scootaloo ventured. "Are...are you angry with us?"

Derpy nodded. "Extremely."

There was nothing but the sound of rushing wind. Derpy kept flapping her wings. They soared over the marsh, their shadow dancing through the reeds and streams and trees.

"But...you were looking for us anyway."

"Yes."

Again, nothing but the wind.

"So...you're happy to see us?"

"Yes."

"I'm...I'm sorry, Miss Hooves. We didn't mean to...well, no, not 'we.' It was all my fault. I didn't mean to be such a problem."

"I know," Derpy said blandly. Scootaloo could barely hear her over the wind.

"I won't do it again," Scootaloo offered.

"I know."

Scootaloo sighed, and watched the ground go past. It was shaping up to be a long trip back. Suddenly, she thought of something.

"I talked a bunch with the gryphons who captured us. We all did."

Derpy looked back, a hint of friendly interest on her face. "Yeah? And what did you learn?"

"They're not all bad."

"No?" She looked forward, smiling. "That's a very generous thing to say about someone who had you bound up to sell off. Why do you say that?"

"They don't want to hurt ponies. They just have some funny ideas. And ponies get hurt because of them. I know they do bad things. But...I don't think the gryphons themselves are bad. I think they're just wrong."

Derpy nodded. "You're right. I've talked to lots of them, though the shoe was on the other hoof at the time. And I learned the same things you did. They're not like us, not exactly. But they're not bad. I've met many I could be good friends with. I like the way they think, I guess, even if I don't always understand it."

"Yeah," Scootaloo said thoughtfully. "They're interesting. But...but you still kill them. Lots of them. And you even kill the ones you talk to and say you could be friends with."

"I do," Derpy said evenly. 

"How?"

"I order it and ponies do it." She shrugged. Scootaloo held on tighter; a shrugging flying pony isn't the most stable of seats. "It's kinda strange, isn't it?"

"No, I mean...how do you not feel bad?"

"I do. I feel very bad." Derpy said, as if she were patiently explaining a simple topic to a slow child.

"Do all the soldiers?"

"No. They see the burnt towns and dead ponies and think the gryphons are monsters. Nopony feels bad about killing monsters."

"But why do you kill them if you know they're not monsters? If you feel bad doing it?"

"Because I have to if I want to save the lives of ponies."

Scootaloo was quiet.

"But...they don't want to kill all of us," she said. "They don't kill the ones who cooperate with them."

"They want to kill everything that makes us ponies. And to do that they'll kill all of us if they have to. It's the same thing. We can either kill them, die, or be slaves forever."

Again, Scootaloo was quiet.

"Nikolai wasn't bad," she said.

"The one I killed?"

"Yes. He wasn't a bad person. He didn't want to hurt us."

"I know. When the scout said she found you unharmed--and that you were walking along the path together--I knew whoever kidnapped you wasn't bad."

"But you killed him anyway. You didn't have to. He was helpless. You could have just rescued us."

"Nobody touches my foals, Scootaloo. That isn't the kind of thing I can just ignore."

"But I'm not...I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't like war."

"Neither do I." She said it a bit like she were letting the filly in on a secret.

"...Really? But you're good at it. I mean you say you don't like doing things but then you do them sometimes you're the only one who wants to do them and then they work the way you said they would."

"I try, Scootaloo. I'm willing to do evil things if we have to do them, but I still try to know what's right. I make mistakes but I keep trying. I think after a while most ponies give up on one or the other."

"That sounds hard."

Derpy thought, then spoke slowly.

"Yes. It's very hard. And it makes people unhappy with me, because they think I'm evil or they think I'm soft depending on what they can't do. And when I make mistakes everypony thinks it's because I wasn't extreme enough in the way they want me to be. Yes. It's hard. It's lonely. It's so lonely. I'm always alone." Derpy trailed off. There was was an awkward silence. She sounded so sad. Scootaloo didn't know how to comfort an adult. She certainly didn't know how to comfort a general.

"Well...I'm glad you're our general, Miss Hooves. And thank you for rescuing me."

Derpy wiped her face with a foreleg. She shook off her feelings. "Thank you, Scootaloo. And you're welcome."



--------



Big Macintosh pushed his nose into Derpy's tent. Derpy looked up at the red intrusion.

"Come in, Major Apple. Don't worry; you know you're always welcome here."

Macintosh hesitated, then entered. "General, I just talked with Apple Bloom. And I've just gotta say...thanks."

Derpy kept writing as she talked. "Well, we got some valuable intelligence out of it. I think we did, at least. That letter your sister found in that gryphon's bag. I'm sure once we decipher it, it'll prove valuable."

"That's a lucky break and you know it. You didn't think you'd gain anythin' by wastin' two days searchin' for some fillies, you took a lot of flak for wastin' manpower lookin' for bodies in a marsh and a burned-out town, and you certainly didn't have to go kill that kidnapper yourself. I know I ain't always seen eye-to-eye with ya, and I'd be lyin' if I said I don't still sorta blame ya for the fact they got kidnapped in the first place...but shucks, in the Apple family we appreciate it when a pony fixes things with her own hooves. So thanks. Er, thanks, General."

Derpy didn't say anything. Mac looked around the tent.

"And just so you know...Derpy? I'm sorry. 'Bout what I said. I was upset. You...you are a good mare. And I was wrong to say you weren't."

Derpy bit her lip and nodded. Still she said nothing.

Macintosh looked off to the side. He knew he should stop talking and leave. He had said what he came to say. But in the silence, he couldn't stop. "It's all true, you bein' a symbol and bein' frightenin' and all. But you're a good mare behind it. Even if I don't always appreciate what you've gotta do." He swallowed. "And I just wanted to let ya know...well...about that kiss..." He winced inwardly. He didn't know why he had brought that up. But the rubicon had been crossed.

Derpy shook her head. "Let it go, Mac. I know you were emotional about your sister when you said those things to me, and I know you're emotional about her now. Believe me, I'm glad you're happy Apple Bloom is safe. But...you were right. It's not a good idea. For the reasons you said. And...for other reasons, too. Let's just let it go."

Macintosh looked down. He pawed anxiously at the dirt. "Derpy, I'm not sayin'...well, I maybe I am. I'm just tryin' to let you know I like who you are. And I guess that means I could--aw, hell, what am I sayin'? I'm all muddlebrained. A lot's been goin' on."

Derpy felt her eyes begin to water. "Mac, please stop. You were right that night. You, me--it isn't a good idea. It was hard for me to accept that it isn't a good idea, but I did. I did. And right now you're not thinking right, and it won't last, and then it'll be even harder on both of us than it was. You know it's a bad idea. So let's just go back to normal."

He took a step closer. His head was down and bent off to the side. "It ain't just me bein' emotional. I just...y'know, I asked you how anypony could love their general. And I stand by it. Ya can't love your general like a mare; we fear ya and worship ya. But...in a sense...aw, hell, I'll say it. Don't think I'm weird, but how can ya worship something and not want it to be yours? Especially when it wants you back? Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just thankful you saved Apple Bloom. But...I don't think I am. I think maybe you had the right idea all along. About us."

"Mac, please. I can't do this. I absolutely can't. You know I want to but I can't." She stepped closer to him. Her ears were flat back against her head. Her breathing was quick. "I can't let my thoughts get any more confused then they already are. I can't--" .

"--yeah, you can. You're lonely. Celestia knows you've told me that a hundred times. And you can't be alone forever. Let me in. You know you want to. You're thinkin' up excuses 'cause you don't wanna get hurt again." He raised his head and smiled awkwardly. "Just stop thinkin'. I certainly stopped thinkin', else I woulda left two minutes ago."

"Leave, Major Apple," she said in a shaking voice, her body trembling as she walked towards him. "I order you to leave."

He was again face-to-face with her. She smelled like sweat and dirt and ash and the marsh. He didn't care. It made her more real. "Do you mean that--that you want me to leave? I will if'n you do." He spoke softly.

"...I...I don't..." Derpy stared into his eyes, her mouth slightly parted.

"Good. 'Cause I'd plum hate to get locked up for insubordination."

He leaned forward and kissed her. She didn't resist. She didn't move. Then she closed her eyes and sighed--a body-shaking sigh verging on a growl--and leaned into it, her mouth pressing against his, tears running down her cheeks.



-----------------------------------



Trottingham. April, 1252.



Celestia kneeled happily in the grass as she reviewed the marching orders, relishing the warm sunlight. It had been so long since the days were pleasant. There was food. There was warmth. And they didn't have to struggle for either. It made her optimistic. And it had been a long time since she had been optimistic.

The army had survived the winter. They had lost thousands of ponies. But those who survived were strong, the flow of recruits and materiel had resumed, and they were nearly at peak readiness. They were about to move out. There was only one matter that troubled her--the Elements.

A purple unicorn approached her, cautiously. "You wanted to see me, Princess?"

Celestia turned her head, and smiled in earnest delight. "Colonel Twilight Sparkle! My most faithful officer! How are you?"

Twilight looked at the ground. "Fine, I suppose. We're all fine."

Celestia cocked her head. "I hardly think so, dear. You look miserable."

"...yeah. I am," Twilight said. "We all are. I mean...my friends and I are."

Celestia nodded emphatically. "I know. I understand this war has been very hard on you six especially. You're especially good ponies, and war is an especially bad thing."

Twilight looked at Celestia, her eyes watering. "Princess, I don't even recognize my friends any more when I see them. I'm not sure I can even call them my friends any more. And it's getting worse."

"I know it is. And I know it's taking a toll on you. Tell me, how is your magical ability?"

Twilight laughed. "What ability? I can't even lift a quill."

"Indeed. A unicorn's magic flows from her connection to her spirit, and you...you are deeply depressed, dear."

Twilight shook her head. "Obviously. Obviously I am. Is that why you invited me here? To tell me I'm sad? I think I've already figured that one out. I am, after all, your prized pupil."

"No, dear. I invited you here to talk."

"Why...Princess, why did you commission us if you knew we weren't suited to war?"

Celestia raised an eyebrow. "That part is obvious. Because you six wield power that even you cannot fully understand, and I may have need of that power in the coming months. The Elements of Harmony are not a cannon to be fired whenever the wielder demands, but they are responsive to crisis. And we may find ourselves in crisis."

"But...I don't think any of my friends embody their elements any more. And I don't even know where Fluttershy is...or if she's even alive."

"They do, Twilight. But they don't understand how to be virtuous and be a soldier. They want to be virtuous. They need to be virtuous. They simply must realize that they can be. They're just lost. And they're trying to get found." Celestia sighed. "But they are moving in the wrong direction."

"But Princess, I guess that's what I was just asking. If you knew war would break us down...why did you put us in the middle of one?"

"I told you a long time ago I couldn't just stick you on the front lines whenever I needed the power of the Elements; the Elements wouldn't respond to that kind of treatment, and you would probably be horrified at what you saw to the extent that you weren't able to harness your powers. I was hoping that I could ease you into war; that I could gradually accustom you to it. Unfortunately, we ended up having to fight a battle before any of us were ready...and unfortunately, it was a particularly challenging one. Then the winter was far rougher than I had expected, since I wasn't able to con--oh, it doesn't matter. What matters is that I had a plan and it didn't go well, Twilight. I'm not used to my plans falling apart. But that's what war is: plans falling apart."

Twilight looked confusedly at Celestia. "But...you're saying you didn't..."

"I'm saying I didn't expect things with you six to go this poorly. We're still alive and so is the army, which is more than I thought would happen on that front...but things have fallen apart with you six. And I need to know if you think you can put it back together."

Twilight looked hopeless. "I don't know. I don't think so. What happens if we can't? Would you just give the elements to somepony else?" The prospect seemed strangely reassuring to her.

Celestia shook her head. "It's not a simple process. And finding suitable ponies certainly isn't easy. It's you or nopony."

"I don't know. I'll try. But...what does that mean, trying? Am I supposed to just...like, talk to them?"

"...honestly, Twilight, I don't know either. I've given them all advice. They haven't taken it. They don't even listen." She drew up her head. "I have always prided myself on my ability to guide ponies to where they need to be...but rarely have I had to guide ponies in such straits under such pressures to such a difficult end." 

Twilight blinked uncomprehendingly. "This...this isn't some sort of test? You don't have a plan? But you're the Princess." She said the last bit with childlike faith.

"Yes, Twilight Sparkle. I am a Princess. I am a very old and very powerful pony. I am a pony with thirteen hundred years of life behind her. But I...am still just a pony. You know your friends very well. In many ways, better than I do. In this affair--and in this affair alone--" she narrowed her eyes "--I confess your judgment is as at least as good as my own."

Twilight looked down. "I don't know. I don't think it can be fixed...ever."

"Do you truly believe that, Twilight?"

Twilight looked into Celestia's eyes. She began to cry. "Yes."

Celestia motioned for her to come closer. She hugged Twilight closely. "It can be fixed. It will be fixed. Nothing is so bad that it is irreparable. It just might take a little longer than we'd like, that's all."

Twilight sniffled. "It's really scary talking to them all now."

"I know it is, dear. Because they hurt. Nopony likes seeing their friends hurt. They need your help."

"I don't think I can help them," Twilight said through tears. "I hurt too."

"Nopony has to do more than what she can. If you can't, then you can't. That's fine. Nopony can give more than what she can give." Celestia let go of Twilight. Twilight backed up and looked around embarrassedly, uncertain if the public hug was a breach of decorum. 

Celestia smiled down at her. "You know, I've got something you should read. Here." She floated a letter to her.

Twilight rubbed her eyes with a hoof, then took it between her lips. "Wha' is it?"

"Last evening I was visited by an unexpected guest. A certain pegasus by the name of Daisy May, claiming to be messenger from something calling itself the Equestrian Army of Free Ponies. She has been through much danger to get here. It seems your friends from Ponyville have been quite busy." She raised an eyebrow. "You may speak with her if you would like word of the situation in occupied territory--or news of your old neighbors--but the reason I bring it up is that she came bearing this letter. Take a look."

Twilight opened it up and held it between her hooves. Yrfurbent sie iz reino ioh harto filu kleino, selb so man thuruh not sinaz korn reinot, the first line read. "Is this...is this Old Equestrian? It looks like it, but the words aren't right at all."

Celestia shook her head. "It looks like it, doesn't it? No, it's the Gryphon High Tongue: their ancestral language. It's quite similar to Old Equestrian, of course; the languages are closely related. You might be able to hack through it with your knowledge of Old Equestrian, but I have a few reference guides to High Tongue in my personal baggage."

"Can you understand this?"

"Of course. I can speak High Tongue fluently. I have, after all, had over a thousand years to study the customs and the history of our neighbors."

"Then why are you having me translate it?"

"Because it's quite important for you to read, and every scholar knows it's better to learn from a primary text than a translation." She smiled. "And it should take your mind off things. You know. A little fun. So go have fun with it."

"Huh!" Twilight said. flipping through the pages of the letter. "The declensions aren't quite the same. I mean, I can tell it's the same root suffixes, but they surface completely differently. And there are strong verbs, but the stem changes are completely different. Ooh, no, not the infinitive, that's the same. I think. Assuming this is the same verb, which is a risky assumption to make since I obviously don't have a handle on the phoneme correspondances yet--"

"--yes, it is, absolutely. You've got it. Now, Twilight, go and read it. When you've finished reading it, come back to me at once."

"Oh, of course I will," Twilight said offhandedly. She brought the letter closer to her face."Look at this. It looks like there was a chain shift of the consonants at some point in Old Equestrian. Well it might have been in High Tong--no, of course it wasn't, null doesn't become an h, h becomes a null. But a chain shift is certainly likely. I mean, these correspondances are shockingly regular."

"Very astute, Twilight, there was indeed a chain shift. It's described in great detail in the book. It's in my baggage. Why don't you go get it?" She said the last part pointedly.

"Absolutely. I'll do that now. Hm, they don't do weak verbs like I'd expect; the past-tense suffix doesn't seem to match the apparent chain shift. Maybe they reanalyzed it as a postposition? Oh, but Old Equestrian doesn't have postpositions, so High Tongue couldn't either. Well, no, Old Equestrian does ha--no, those don't count."

"Twilight, you may leave now."

"Sure, thanks. Are the doubled consonants here true geminates or just orthographical custom?"

"TWILIGHT SPARKLE!"

Twilight looked up. Suddenly, she blushed, her ears flattened back. She lowered her head in embarrassment. "Er, oh. I'm sorry, your highness. I'm leaving now. Bye."

Celestia smiled. "Do come back soon. I'm sure you'll have much you want to discuss."



------



GENERAL CHIPPEDCLAW
FREE FILLYDELPHIA, EQUESTRIA


GENERAL SHARPEYE
FREE MIDDLEMARCH, EQUESTRIA



HIS MOST SERENE MAJESTY HAS ANALYZED THE ONGOING LIBERATION OF THE PONY QUEEN'S REALM. HE IS MOST PLEASED WITH YOUR NUMEROUS GLORIOUS SUCCESSES, BUT HAS SOME SUGGESTIONS AS TO HOW THE WAR MIGHT BE MORE QUICKLY BROUGHT TO A HUMANE END.

THE WAR AGAINST THE PONY QUEEN'S FORCES HAS BEEN FOUGHT HEROICALLY. HOWEVER, THE EXTENT TO WHICH THEY HAVE BEEN WILLING TO DESTROY THEIR OWN FAMILIES AND THEIR OWN LIVES TO MAKE WAR AGAINST US HAS BEEN UNFORESEEABLY IRRATIONAL. THIS POSES NO THREAT TO OUR PLANS, BUT DOES MEAN WE MUST SPEND AN UNACCEPTABLY HIGH AMOUNT SIMPLY TO MAINTAIN ARMIES IN THE FIELD THROUGHOUT LIBERATED REGIONS. OCCUPYING THE ENTIRE COUNTRY OF EQUESTRIA WOULD AT THIS POINT CONSTITUTE SOMETHING OF A BURDEN ON THE PEOPLE OF GRYPHONIA.

MOREOVER, THE FEROCITY OF THE PONY QUEEN'S ARMY IN COMBAT, AND ITS WILLINGNESS TO STEAL FROM THE IMPOVERISHED IN ITS OWN LANDS, WERE HIGHER THAN EXPERT ANALYSIS HAD PREDICTED. ARMED ENGAGEMENTS WITH PONIES HAVE OFTEN RESULTED IN UNSATISFACTORY OUTCOMES, DESPITE YOUR HEROIC LEADERSHIP; THE LAZINESS OF THE LIONS AND THE CRUELTY OF PONY TACTICS ARE TO BLAME.

OUR INITIAL PLAN WAS TO CRUSH THE ABILITY OF THE PONY QUEEN TO RESIST WITHIN SIX MONTHS. BECAUSE OF HER AMORAL CUNNING, SHE STILL RESISTS. BRINGING THIS WAR TO A CLOSE WOULD, UNDER CURRENT STRATEGIES, LIKELY REQUIRE ANOTHER YEAR. SHE WILL BE ABLE TO REPLENISH HER LOSSES, WHILE DOING SO IS MORE DIFFICULT FOR YOU. A LENGTHY WAR FAVORS THE PONY QUEEN. THIS IS, OF COURSE, UNACCEPTABLE.

IN HIS DIVINE WISDOM, HIS SERENE MAJESTY HAS SENT A TEAM OF OPERATIVES TO FAR-OFF LANDS TO RECOVER AN ANCESTRAL TREASURE BELONGING TO OUR GREAT LINEAGE. THIS TREASURE WILL ENABLE US TO DO WHAT HAS ONCE BEEN UNTHINKABLE: TO TARGET AND END THE PONY QUEEN HERSELF. SHE WILL BE HELPLESS BEFORE IT. WITHOUT HER, THE WAR WOULD QUICKLY END.

OUR FIRST STRATEGY WAS TO CAPTURE LAND AND HOLD IT. THIS WAS SUCCESSFUL. OUR CURRENT STRATEGY IS TO ENGAGE THE PONY ARMY. THIS IS, WE BELIEVE, UNWISE FOR THE REASONS ABOVE. OUR NEW STRATEGY, THEN, IS TO AVOID ENGAGING THE PONY ARMY. WE ARE TO DRAW THE PONY QUEEN OUT--TO MAKE HER PERPETUALLY FLEE OR FOLLOW, BUT TO ENSURE THAT SHE IS ALWAYS MOVING. DO NOT FIGHT HER UNLESS YOUR ADVANTAGE IS OVERWHELMING. KEEP HER IN THE FIELD, WHERE SHE WILL BE MOST VULNERABLE. DO NOT LET HER ENCAMP. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ALLOW HER TO RETURN TO CANTERLOT AND THE PROTECTION OF HER CITADEL.

GEN. CHIPPEDCLAW: I HAVE HEARD OF A POPULAR BANDIT HEROINE CAMPED IN THE TERRITORY YOUR ARMY OCCUPIES. THIS IS COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE. ENGAGE HER IMMEDIATELY. PONIES LOVE SYMBOLS; WE BELIEVE THEY RESIST SOLELY BECAUSE OF THE QUEEN. IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT YOU DO NOT ALLOW THE 'GREY MARE' TO BECOME A FOLK HERO OF SIMILAR POWER, OR KILLING THE PONY QUEEN WILL DO NOTHING TO END THIS WAR.

YOUR MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT,
DUKE MALACHI
FIRST MINISTER OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL


------



Celestia sipped tea as she watched the sunset. All around her were the busy sounds of ponies working. Carts were being loaded; bags were being packed; cannons were being cleaned; spears were being polished. The army was making final preparations to move out. She breathed in deeply, relishing the aura of activity that surrounded her. She had seen the New Equestrian Army through the edge of death. It was gratifying to see it healthy again.

Twilight Sparkle suddenly came running up. "Princess," she shouted, breathing heavily. "Princess! This letter!"

Celestia nodded. "Frightening, isn't it?"

"They want to kill you? Is that even possible?"

"I believe so. For instance, I cannot imagine I could survive having a spear driven through my head. I also cannot imagine how they could put anyone in position to do that, but there are many things in the world I am unfamiliar with."

"But...if it's dangerous for you to move around, then why are we moving out in the morning?"

"We're going to Canterlot. And we're going to engage the gryphon army at every opportunity on the way. Starting immediately."

"Isn't this a bit too convenient?" Twilight looked incredulous. "What makes you certain this isn't a trap?"

Celestia drank her tea. Her expression remained peaceful. "Twilight Sparkle, everything you know about war, diplomacy, and the gryphon mind was gleaned from books I gave you. Everything. Those books were written hundreds of years ago by ponies I personally instructed. Everything you know is what you have been taught either by me or by those I have taught. I will not be challenged by a pony armed only with a fraction of a fraction of the knowledge I wield."

Twilight bit her lip. "I didn't mean it like that, Princess. I'm sorry."

Celestia nodded. "It's quite all right. But do mind yourself. Arrogance is unbecoming."

Twilight looked out at the sunset. Clouds slowly shifted and swirled in the distant sky. They sat for a while.

"Princess? What happens when we get to Canterlot? If you don't mind my asking."

"Luna and I will retire to the capital and stay under heavy guard; our lives are imperative. You will take control of the army and continue to fight. You will fight them as often as you can. If you're the strategist I think you are, you'll break them cleanly and take the fight into their lands. If you aren't, then you'll grind them down and win the war by virtue of the fact that we have more blood to spill than they do." Celestia took another sip. "From the sounds of it, you'll only need to take on half their army; if things continue it seems your mailmare friend from Ponyville will soon rival our own army in ability if not in numbers."

Twilight's mouth gaped. "Me? But--"

"You're the best officer I have. You're a natural leader. I've groomed you from a young age for great things, Twilight Sparkle. This isn't what I expected, nor is it where you'll end up. But you'll do quite well. The hard part is done: I've built you the cannon. I'll send you messages giving you orders regarding your objectives. You just need to tell your cannon where to go, where to aim, and when to fire."

"But Princess, I...no, no, no. I can't do that. Princess, I can barely get out of bed in the morning. I can hardly deal with things as they are. I can't take control of the entire army."

Celestia finished her cup of tea. She poured another. "I was hoping the Elements and your friends would be a safety net. They might still. But if that doesn't work out, then so be it. You've always risen to the challenges you've faced, Twilight Sparkle. You'll continue to do so.  I have faith in you."

Twilight didn't know what to feel. It had been a while since she had really felt much of anything. She just felt tired. "I don't know, Princess. I don't think it's a good idea, but if you do then I'll do my best. At least it'll be a little while before we have to fight again."

Celestia picked up a map and floated it in front of her. "Hm. I suppose two days could be defined as 'a little while,' yes."

"...we're going to fight again?"

Celestia shrugged. "We're an army, yes."

"Like...right now again?" Twilight's eyes were opened wide.

"Why did you think everypony was preparing for battle? What did you think I spoke to the army about just now?"

"You spoke to the army when I was in my tent? Is that what all the commotion was about a few hours ago? But--oh. Oh no. Oh no no no no no." Twilight went running off into the camp. She had to talk with her friends. And she had to talk with them now.

> XXII. Westmarch, Equestria. April, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draughtboro, Equestria. April, 1252

Derpy stood proudly in the little town square. She wore her new cape, splendid and gold-lined, and on her head she wore a golden helmet she had found in the spoils from the battle of Rollinghoof. It was a pony helmet, and one of exceptional beauty: it must have been an heirloom relic from a bygone war, taken by a gryphon from a dead pony. Now it was back on a pony's head. Big Mac warned it was a bad omen to wear anything a pony had died in, but she didn't believe in that kind of thing. And it was, she believed, rather stately looking.

On either side, she was flanked by three of her most impressive-looking officers. Big Macintosh was there, of course, at her right. He was wearing shining armor. He looked dashing. He felt embarrassed. 

Before them, the assembled town of Draughtboro prepared to listen to the Gray Mare.



"Ponies!" Derpy began, as had become her custom. She spoke not in the iron voice of war, but in a gentler tone. Her purpose was not to inspire, but to reassure. She didn't want these ponies to follow her; she was being flooded with more recruits than her veterans could train. She simply wanted their support and their good will. As always, she would take some donations, leave a liason, and begin using the town as a propaganda base.

"For months you have suffered under the claws of the gryphons. You have been subject to theft, to murder, to assault, and to arson. You have lived in daily fear of these brutal tools of conquest. You had no legal recourse for your suffering--because under the gryphons, suffering is law."  Ponies nodded. Derpy of course knew the privations of war had nothing to do with nationality; she had inflicted as much suffering as any gryphon general.

"I am General Hooves of the Equestrian Army of Free Ponies. We, like you, have seen our homes burned. We, like you, have been separated from our beloved children. We, like you, have seen our friends die. Like you we have known starvation. Like you we have known pain and hardship. And like you, we long for the return of peace and freedom to Equestria." The words were true enough, but they were bland to her own ears. Still, she knew they were soothing to frightened and helpless-feeling townsfolk.

"The army of the Princess is strong and growing stronger. It is daily growing into a blade that might cut off the claws of the Gryphon King. But it is not the only blade that Equestria is wielding. We, the Equestrian Army of Free Ponies, were formed to be a second blade to complement the first. Together we will form a mighty shears. And together we will give the gryphons a good Equestrian trimming." Silly. Childish. War wasn't a manecut. But the ponies grinned, as she knew they would.

"The gryphons came to take. I come to give. I give you the knowledge that your freedom is coming. I give you the knowledge that Equestria has not surrendered, will never surrender, and could never surrender to occupation. And I give you the opportunity to take your freedom into your own hands. Due to the incredible courage of the Equestrian people, this army is unable at this time to take recruits. We can only teach so many ponies so quickly. But there are many ways to help. We make no demands. These are merely ways by which you can choose to join in the efforts of the Equestrian people."

She began listing her requests. The ponies listened eagerly.



"That was a mighty fine speech you gave, General." Mac smiled sheepishly at her. She smiled back; the sight of him in his armor was delightful.

"Thanks. But it wasn't. It was a dancing-pony show. I was just making war look pretty for the ponies who think suffering means skipping lunch once a week. But it builds our relationship with the populace, so...on we go." She laughed. Two weeks ago she was wracked with self-doubt about her image. Now all it just seemed silly. But she had been in a giddy mood anyway. It was nice.

He shook his head. "You're too hard on yourself, Derpy. It ain't always gotta be about killin' and hurtin' and bein' bad cause you gotta be bad. It ain't always gotta be cryin' midnight confessions. You're doin' a good thing for the people, leadin' this army, and I think it's good for you to talk about that, too."

"Well...all right." She smiled. It was wonderful having him on board. "You might like this, then." She pulled a broadsheet out of her bag, and held it out for him.

He squinted at it. "Hey, there's a picture of you on it. And there's me in the background there. And there's Sweetie Belle. Wow, a big one of her. And there's all three of the girls...we made the paper?"

She giggled as she folded it up. "Yep. In more ways than one. We're printing them out of little shops in every town we've got a liason in.  Spreading news to the people." She gestured expansively with her hoof.

He cocked his head. "We're writin' 'bout ourselves? I don't mind talkin' 'bout what we done if people ask, but writin' a paper 'bout ourselves seems like...braggin'. Ain't seemly."

"Oh, Mac. People want to know. You see how eager they are for me to speak. Nopony has to read it if they don't want to. It'll just be available if people are interested in us. Here, let me read you this part: DARING RESCUE OF INSPIRATIONAL FILLY SONGSMITH: A TRUE TALE OF YOUNG HEROISM AND TRUE LEADERSHIP."

"--wait, what?! You put all that in there? That whole business with Apple Bloom?"

"Well, I didn't Mac, Lt. Inkwell did. He practically had to. That rescue was all anypony in the army could talk about for days."

"But they're foals." He looked pained.

"I know. That's why it was such a big deal."

"I thought you saved 'em because you realized mixin' up kids with war was a downright bad idea." He looked at her as if he was pleading for something.

"I did, Mac. I felt awful when they were kidnapped. That's wh--"

"--my God, you were thinkin' you could turn it into another one o' your schemes! You were! It was all for this--this pack o' lies, wasn't it? I can't believe I thought it meant you was--"

"--MAC! NO! LISTEN TO ME!"

He winced. She continued. She spoke fiercely.

"If I was concerned then about what ponies thought of me, I wouldn't have said a word about the girls. I would have focused on the battle and moved on. Because going after them was probably the stupidest thing I've ever done. The pegasus scouts nearly mutinied when we entered the third day of aerial searches. Everypony else complained the entire time about having to tredge through mud looking for bodies. They thought I was using the army for my own ends. They thought I was cracking up. And they were right. I was. I was cracking up, and I was misusing my authority."

She let the words hang. Then she continued with all her ferocity. "Because I couldn't handle the thought of having their deaths on my conscience, so I disregarded the welfare of the army and I refused to accept the fact that all three were very likely dead. It was an awful, stupid thing to do from any rational perspective but I did it because I couldn't just let them go. And it worked out--it worked out wonderfully--but nopony thought it would. Not even me. If you had been speaking to anypony those few days, you'd know just how ridiculous you sound right now."

Mac swallowed. "Yeah...I...I'm sorry, Derpy. I'm sorry. You're right. I'm no dummy; I know you couldn't have been plannin' on makin' a big deal about it later. It's just, well, I was always taught good ponies do good things and bad ponies do bad things. And when things looks like they're in the middle, it's 'cause some slick pony's tryin' to get one over on ya. And I know the world ain't that simple outside the farm, but it's still how I see it."

"I know, Mac. Everything's so clear to you. It's what makes you strong. It's why I depend on you. But Mac. You have to trust me. This won't work if you don't trust me. None of it will. You, me, the army, none of it. The army doesn't love me. I need someone to. You told me you would. So trust me."

He looked warily off to the side. With a hoof she took her helmet off, and let it clatter to the ground.

"Mac." She pulled his face back in front of hers. She kissed him, lightly. "Am I a good pony?"

"...yup." He nodded. "You are."

"Do good ponies do good things?" She kissed him, lightly, again.

"...yup."

"And do you always understand everything I do and why I do it?" She raised an eyebrow. It produced a mildly comical effect, given the condition of her eyes.

"...nope," he admitted.

"Then trust that what I'm doing is good, because you know I'm a good pony. And if you don't understand what I'm doing, then ask me to explain before you decide it's bad." She kissed him gently on the nose.

"...okay. I'll do that. But...I'm not gonna say bad things are good just 'cause you do 'em."

She smiled at him. "And I'll respect that like I always have. But Mac. I'm still the general. That hasn't stopped meaning everything it did two weeks ago."

He nodded. "I know. And I know that's for the best. But...I ain't gonna start likin' bad things. I'm still an Apple. That hasn't stopped meanin' nothin', either."

She stroked his cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way."



-----



Westmarch, Equestria. April, 1252.



Daisy May sang, in a calm and steady voice. It wasn't a trained voice, but it was the voice of a pony who believed in what she was singing.

We've seen freedom in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps
We have built for it an altar in the evening dews and damps
We have buried freedom's martyrs by the dim and flaring lamps
Their spirits will march on.

The campfires stretched out across the plains for what looked like miles: a thousand flickering terrestrial stars. A mirror reflecting the night sky. Twilight watched them as the song carried her soul. It was beautiful. It was the song of a pony who had seen horror and who still believed in the triumph of good. It was the song of a pony who saw evil and believed it fertilized the seed of righteousness. It was, if Daisy May was to be believed, the song of a tiny white filly from Ponyville.

Rarity sat next to Twilight. She shook her head in disbelief, then looked at the enraptured faces of the ponies listening. She leaned closer to Twilight. "Sweetie Belle wrote that?"

Twilight nodded. "That's what Lt. May said. I don't think she'd lie."

"I can't believe that. Sweetie's a lovely filly, but she isn't the deepest thinker. They must be trying to use her as a mascot or something."

"Now, I'm a deep thinker, Rarity. But I can't--"

Rarity scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"--oh, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying, I'm a smart pony and I couldn't write a good poem no matter how many books I read. Poetry isn't about thinking. It's about feeling. She's a sensitive filly. I can believe it."

"You're naive, Twilight. I don't understand why the princess is going to promote you to general, to say nothing of major general. War isn't about being nice to people. It's about doing what you have to do to survive."

Twilight blinked. She blinked again. "...Rarity, what does that have to do with anything?"

"It's obvious," Rarity replied, verging on yelling. "Somepony wrote it and then they pretended Sweetie Belle did so they could use her as a cute symbol of their rag-tag little army! It's cold calculation--which is apparently entirely foreign to you--and I can't understand how we could have a leader that can neither perform nor recognize it!"

She stopped to breathe, then noticed the campfire was quiet. Daisy May had stopped singing. Everypony was looking at Rarity.

She nervously clicked her front hooves together. "Er...well, I didn't intend to...well, it's true. This whole story is childish propaganda, from that pathetic little wall-eyed mailmare being a general to the notion that a simple child could write battle hymns and marching anthems. Surely I'm not the only one to see through it."

Daisy May looked confused. "Captain...I...what? You're from Ponyville too, then?"

"Yes. I am Rarity, I am Sweetie Belle's older sister, and I guarantee you that she is simply not...capable of writing these." She looked around. The other ponies were staring at her in disbelief. She doubled down. "Nor, for that matter, is Miss Hooves capable of doing anything but accidentally dropping my letters in the mud."

Daisy May narrowed her eyes. She walked around the fire as she spoke. "Lt. Rarity, I've seen Sweetie Belle writing. I've heard her writing. She isn't a 'mascot.' She's the treasure of our army. She's worth more than a thousand soldiers. And she's a sweet girl to boot. And furthermore, I have been travelling with that 'pathetic wall-eyed mailmare' since last November. I owe my life to her many times over. I would die for her. In fact, I probably will end up dying for her, and I welcome the opportunity." She was now standing directly in front of Rarity. Her voice was sodden with disdain. "When we win this war, it won't be because of ponies like you, who think this whole thing's a game they've figured out. It'll be because of ponies like them, who somehow manage to convince ponies like me to become better than ponies like you."

Rarity stood and curled her upper lip. "Better than--why, you donkey-loving half-zebra, I have a good mind to give you that opportunity you want right now."

Twilight grabbed Rarity around the neck. "Sit down, Captain. And observe decorum; Lt. May is a visiting officer of an allied army. Down, Rarity. Sit. Down. Now." She said the last word with all the menace she could muster.

There was a pregnant silence. Then, slowly, Rarity sat.

Twilight looked around the campfire. Expressions ranged from uneasy to horrified. "Well...it seems our lighthearted moment of cameraderie has been irrevocably interrupted. I'm very sorry, Lt. May. Please, come with me."

Twilight stood up, and motioned to Daisy May to come with her. The pegasus walked uneasily around Rarity, and then followed Twilight out into the night.



They walked slowly together. Neither seemed quite easy with the conversation.

"You're staying for the fight tomorrow?" Twilight asked.

"Yes, of course. I'm sure General Hooves would rather I return a day late than abandon the New Equestrian Army on the eve of battle."

"As a pegasus mare, you'll be assigned to be a lancer, I imagine. Can you handle that?"

"Yes, I've used lances before." Suddenly, she perked up. "Actually, I was one of the lancers General Hooves hand-picked for the rescue mission. The one I told you about, with Sweetie Belle. I wasn't in the first strike team or anything; it's not like I rescued Sweetie Belle myself. I was the leader of the reserve team. I just hung above. I would have swooped down if either of the two ponies in the first team had missed their targets, or if Gen. Hooves had run into any trouble. I didn't have to, but I could have. And I was picked to take the letter here because she thought I'd have the best chance of evading any gryphon sky patrols, so I guess I'm a good flier, too...though, truthfully, I'm not sure I'm any better than any of the other girls in the cavalry. Do you know how that goes? Like, somepony gives you an honor but you're really not more qualified for it than anypony else is?"

Twilight laughed joylessly. "Oh, yes, I have some idea," she said, with not just a hint of sarcasm.

Daisy May looked a bit confused. "Er...I've apparently hit a nerve? I'm sorry, I guess."

Twilight sighed, her snide smile evaporating. She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just...under a lot of stress now."

"I can imagine. We all are."

"Well, actuall--yes. Yes, we all are. We all certainly are."

They walked in silence.

"So...Lt. May."

"Yes, Col. Sparkle?"

"Is Derpy really a general? A good one?"

"Absolutely." She spoke resolutely, as if Twilight had been challenging her.

"That's so...I don't know. Improbable. Like, she's the last pony I'd have picked."

Daisy smiled. "It's a good thing you didn't pick, then."

"Yeah, I mean--okay, yeah, it's a fair point, I guess I didn't know her as well as I thought. I'm just saying, I guess we all kind of thought of her as this harmless, helpless, weird little pony."

"Did you talk to her much?"

"Sometimes. She didn't say much. I figured she didn't have much to say. I never really thought anything bad about her. I just didn't think about her."

"Huh," Daisy May muttered in thought. "That's kind of strange, yeah. The General is like this force of personality to us. I mean, I know about her old life--her foal, and being bullied as a filly, and all that. We've read the old speeches. But I pictured her as being so self-assured in Ponyville."

"I don't know if she was or if she wasn't. She was just a quiet pony. Who knows what she was like? ...but it doesn't matter. I guess she's becoming a great pony now. And that's a good thing. We need one."

"You're a great pony too, Twilight."

"No, I'm not."

"Everypony knows you, all across Equestria. And we did before the war. You saved Equestria twice."

"I didn't earn it, Lt. May. I was just somehow given this crowny thing. And then sometimes I put it on and my eyes light up and some magic happens and the bad things go away. That isn't greatness. I'm no greater than a schoolfilly playing dress-up with her mother's hat."

"Well, I couldn't do it. Neither could most ponies."

"I didn't work at being able to do it. None of us have ever had to work at being able to do it. It's just who we are. Or...who we were, at least." She nearly whispered the last part. 

There was silence. Twilight moped to herself. Daisy May thought a bit.

"Col. Sparkle. I don't want to be presumptuous. But if the General has taught us one thing, it's that you have to work at it. Being good during a war doesn't always look like it does at home. But you still can be good. You just need to look at what being good means, not what being good looks like." Twilight looked curious. Daisy May continued. "I mean, sometimes doing one thing can be bad in one case and good in another, so it's hard to say that the thing itself can be good or bad. If you ask me, what you do is important, but why you do it is even more important."

Twilight thought. Then, suddenly, she smiled. She hugged Daisy May. She gave her directions to the lancer camp. And she went trotting happily back towards Princess Celestia's tent.



Rainbow Dash hesitantly entered the tent. "You...called me here, Princess?" Then she stopped in her tracks. Princess Celestia wasn't there. Four ponies sat in an open circle on a rug in the center. "So glad you could make it, Rainbow Dash," Twilight said.

"Yeah. Real glad," Pinkie said, then twitched. "After all, we might never see each other again ha ha ha!"

Applejack nodded. "Well...I can't say whether I see much point in this gatherin', but the Princess ordered it, so here I am."

Rarity rolled her eyes. "Personally, I can think of better things to do on the eve of a battle than hold a tea party, but I'm sure our illustrious general-to-be has a thorough grasp of how this will affect our performance on the field tomorrow."

Rainbow Dash looked from pony to pony, her incredulity rising. "Col. Sparkle?! Did you have the Princess order us here so you could have a sleepover or something?! I've told you about this! I've told you so many times! Just leave me alone!"

"Sit down, Rainbow Dash," Twilight said calmly. "It will only take a second. The Princess has ordered it."

Dash bit her lip, then took a seat between Applejack and Twilight.

"Now," Twilight said. "There's most likely going to be another battle tomorrow. We'll be on familiar ground. We're only two miles south of Dash's Hill--"

"--please, please don't call it that, why does everypony call it that--" Dash moaned.

"--and I know you'll be thinking about what happened last time. But this is different. We're different ponies now. And believe it or not, in some ways, we're better ponies now. So I'm not going to ask you to go back to who you were, and I'm not going to expect us to be like we were before. That's not realistic. And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I expected that."

"But we can be better than we are now. I promise we can. And I know what I'm about to say is going to sound really, really, *really* stupid. But if you find that something you've done isn't working well? Don't blame yourself. Just ask yourself why you did it. I know it sounds dumb. And I know you already do it. But...please. It's important. We trusted each other once. Trust me again. If only on something this small."

All four stared at her.

"Twilight, you're crazy," Dash said. "I've spent the entire winter asking myself why I did what I did at the battle of Westmarch." She shuddered, and then stood and left.

"No," Twilight said hurriedly. "I don't mean 'why' like in 'what was I thinking,' but like 'how does this reflect who I am.'"

"Twilight, dear," Rarity said, "I appreciate your attempt to look after our welfare. I do. But I have considered deeply how my previous belief in the value of caretaking individuals is not compatible with my broader belief in the value of helping everypony. Your concern is touching but misplaced." She tossed her hair, and then stood and left.

"Yeah," Applejack said. "I gotta agree with Rarity on that one. Don't often say that, I suppose." She nodded curtly, and then stood and left.

Pinkie laughed. Her rail-straight mane shimmered. "This was a fun party. We should do it again tomorrow. That is, if any of us are alive. But we can prop up the dead ones and it'll be just as fun!" She laughed, gasped, and then stood and left.

Twilight sighed deeply. She had tried. Maybe it would help. It probably wouldn't. She slowly got back to her feet. Tomorrow. Another battle tomorrow. The first of many this season. It didn't seem real. It felt like the future just didn't exist past bedtime.

Well, then. Bedtime it was.



-----



In Lovely Cave, Fluttershy lay on the ground, her hooves over her ears.

"No, no, little friends. Those weren't drums. Those weren't drums. Everything is fine here. Everything is fine now. Everything is fine here. Everything is fine now. Those weren't drums. Those weren't drums."

Gryphon snares rapped through the night sky.
> XXIII. Reckoning Ridge, Equestria. April, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XXIII. Reckoning Ridge, Equestria. April, 1252.

The candlelight cast a dull glow through the tent. Outside, there was the muffled sounds of practiced decamping; the unicorns loaded the baggage trains in the dark while the soldiers formed ranks and prepared to receive orders. Inside, Luna stood before the assembled officer corps. Each watched her intently; their adrenaline outweighed their sleeplessness.

She floated a pointer to a topographical map behind her.

"The gryphon army has set up defensive positions here, on this shallow ridge, which we have audaciously christened "Reckoning Ridge," for we believe this battle will be the end of the Gryphon threat to Westmarch. To their right runs Trottingham Stream, which is only notable in that it prevents a flanking maneuver from that side. To their left is the thickly forested Westmarch Wilds, the ground of which is not visible from the air, but which is patrolled heavily. Before them is an expanse of fallow farmland."

She continued. "They expect duplicity of some sort; likely a flanking action through the forest. We shall provide duplicity in that there will be nothing of the sort. Our attack will be along their entire front line."

"That's obviously suicide," an aged general said.

Luna nodded. "Which is why they do not believe we will actually do it; their defensive formation is to prevent a battle rather than to win one. There will be a battle."

"But it's still--"

"--General Rustwithers, I would appreciate it if you would be silent on matters you know nothing about. Two days ago I arranged for the body of a typhus casualty to be mauled and placed in the Wilds close to their camp. Among her personal effects is a collection of documents both real and forged, containing "secret" information regarding troop movements of which they are likely already aware, and also giving the impression that we have created an extensive network of bribery among the gryphon scouts."

She paused.

"They won't buy it. A gryphon can't be bribed," somepony said. Exactly as Luna had hoped.

"You obviously know precious little about gryphons," she said, smiling haughtily. "It is true that a gryphon's honor is virtually unbreakable. It is also true, however, that every gryphon believes that he or she may be the only truly honorable gryphon left in the world. That is why honor fights have such a place in their culture, after all. Really, you must know your enemy, colonel. The gryphons will each be eager to suspect each other, and the officers will be eager to distrust their scouts' reports--especially if the scout is reporting that nothing strange is occurring."

She moved the pointer. "Col. Sparkle's artillery is currently being moved to a position on the Gryphon left. There she will have no direct line of sight and will not be visible; she will rely on indirect fire. Before her, the First through Fifth Infantry of Line will advance through the forest, supported by the pegasi of the Fifteenth Cuirassers and Seventh Lancers, and the First through Sixth Light Infantry. When the diversionary force arrives and sets up a defensive line, the artillery will begin fire--from their left as well. Given their belief that their scouts have been compromised, they will decide that our entire army has flanked them, and that this unexpected force has formed defensive lines to screen the deployment of our main force. They will abandon their defenses and reform their lines in order to meet the supposed vanguard of the illusory threat. After our dievrsionary force appears, our cavalry will then emerge and attack the gryphons in their original center--now their undefended right--as our army emerges from the forest. Our infantry will then charge across the field as the cavalry did, and attack the pinned and panicked enemy."

Luna looked at the ponies and narrowed her eyes. "You will, of course, be provided with complete written orders, which you are expected to follow to the absolute utmost of your ponies' ability. We have a plan. Do not ruin it with hero play. Move out."

The ponies stood, saluted, and left to collect their orders.



-----



In her cave, Fluttershy trembled in fear. She had heard drums all through the last two nights--the resounding crack of the gryphon snares and the sharp rattle of the pony snares. The armies were nearby. She knew the armies were nearby. There would be a battle.

All winter she had convinced herself that the war wasn't real. That there were no ponies hurt. That there were no ponies dying. She had retreated into a dream of solitary peace. But the dream was pierced, and she was awake again.

There would be a battle. She tried to swallow. She couldn't. There would be a battle. Ponies would die again. Her friends might die. Her friends might be dead. She covered her ears. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

She had to escape. But she didn't know which direction to go. The armies were nearby. She couldn't risk being found by the gryphons. She certainly couldn't risk being found by the ponies.

No. No no no no no. She was in Lovely Cave. Everything was lovely. Everything was--no. No, it didn't work. The war was still real. The armies were still there. Maybe they would leave. Maybe they would get scared and go. Maybe then Lovely Cave would come back. Maybe then everything would be nice again. No. No they wouldn't. No. No no no no no. She felt a sick heat rising in her throat. She whimpered. No. No no no no no.





--------



Applejack stood in front of her soldiers. A nervous energy coursed through her body. The last time she was in this situation, she said too much. She shattered her unit's morale by revealing things they didn't need to know. Well. She was a savvy officer now. She understood her ponies didn't need to know everything. She understood that truth poisoned them, and that a soldier fought best when there was a wall between an officer's knowledge and a soldier's. And she understood that honesty, which she had always valued before, was the refuge of a naive cornpone who didn't understand how to deal with ponies. Well. She might be a farm pony, but she was no hick. She understood now. She pulled her hat back so they could see her face. She used to hide it when she spoke to them. She didn't have to, now. She was comfortable with what she did. She breathed in deeply, and the tension vanished. Time to show the world she wasn't a rube.

"We're movin' out, folks," she said with an easy smile. "We're headed 'round the gryphons. Gonna go right after 'em today. Just follow me and get ready for a fight."

"What's the plan, Apple?" a sergeant called out.

She winked and nodded. "Oh, there's a plan, all right. Trust ol' Loo-ten-int Applejack." She smiled broadly as she deliberately overpronounced her rank. "And we got us a job to do. So let's do it, y'hear?" A few ponies chuckled. They had learned not to expect much out of their affiable officer.

"Now move out," she barked, and turned to walk. Her ponies followed, their chestplates clinking as they went.

-----



Rainbow Dash stared mournfully at the ground as she walked. Last time, her loyalty to her ponies had caused her to disobey orders. It made her a hero; her daring not only saved her girls, but it won the battle outright. It also put the blood of thousands of ponies on her hooves, as there wouldn't have even been a proper battle if she had followed orders. But at the end of the day, she was a hero. And she hated every minute of it. Now she knew. Heroism, loyalty to your sisters-in-arms: these were things starry-eyed fillies and colts dreamed about. They weren't things that had any place in the clockwork slaughter of war. And so she devoted herself to nothing but her orders. She distanced herself from everypony. She made herself a gear in a machine, because a gear isn't responsible for the ponies the machine kills. But being a gear didn't erase the guilt. It couldn't erase the guilt. It couldn't erase the crushing shame she felt anyone cheerfully called the Battle of Westmarch "The Battle of Dash's Hill." And now she was about to lead her storied Third Lancers into war again. Everypony else expected glory from her. She only hoped that she could look at herself in the mirror at the end of the day.

She arrived back at her camp. There, in the pre-dawn haze, her two thousand lancers were assembled in their companies. In front of the soldiers, her lieutenants were standing in attention in a short line abreast.

Lt. Spitfire saluted crisply. "The soldiers are quite ready for your command, Maj. Dash." She winked, and then spoke quietly: "Last time we won a battle with one company of lancers, as I recall. I expect today we'll win the whole damn war with fifteen."

Dash suppressed a shiver. "I, uh...lieutenant. We've got a job to do. I hereby relieve you of command of the Third Lancers of the New Equestrian Army."

Spitfire smiled and nodded. "I stand relieved.  I've kept 'em just the way you like 'em, Dash: the best pack of fliers in the world. Now let's get 'em, Major."

Dash summoned all her control, and remained impassive. "I've read the daily reports, lieutenant. I'm aware that the Third is the most outstanding company in the Royal Lancers."

"All business. That's why you're a hero, eh? Eyes on the prize."

Dash didn't allow herself a response beyond a blink. "Let's move out, lieutenant."

She spread her wings. The lightly armored mares of the Royal Lancers all did the same. They looked at each other eagerly. They expected victory.



----



Rarity glared at the foals in front of her. At one point, she would have been eager to help them. She probably would have felt good about it for days. But that was then. She used to believe that generosity was the mark of a classy mare who was confident in everything she had. She believed that helping the unfortunate was the privilege and the duty of the fortunate. But then the war came. And she realized that in war, nopony was fortunate. Death waited for everypony, behind every rock, every tree, and every pathetic set of weeping eyes. Let up for a minute and dozens of ponies might die. Let up for an hour and thousands of ponies might die. Let up for a day and everypony might die. It was hard, at first, realizing that war meant you couldn't help anypony without hurting somepony else. It was hard realizing that in times of crisis, everypony saw everypony else only as a tool they could exploit to desperately preserve their own survival. And it was hard realizing that her first duty was to her army and to her country rather than to any pathetic wretch that stumbled into her field of vision. But she had come to grips with it. And she understood her role.

They were skinny, ragged little things. One had the dull eyes of a pony near death. He sat and stared blankly at the ground. His younger sister held him and cried softly. His older sister begged in a half-Trottingham accent, her tattered lime-green mane falling around her face: "But please, Miss. Our mother died over the winter, and a few days back our father got hurt real bad. Please. We only need one bottle of healing salve. Just one. And you have so many!"

Rarity shook her head. Her mane fell in loose curls around her shoulders. "Today many ponies will be very badly hurt. You three depend on your father. But every single pony depends on the ponies who will be hurt today, and we may not have enough for ourselves. I am sorry, but the answer is still no. Now run along; an army camp is no place for a foal."

"I...but...who will take care of us then?" She looked hopeless.

"I understand you must be very frightened, but that is not and cannot be my problem. You are not the only war orphans in Equestria. There are many charities that might be able to help you. Now leave." She turned back towards her cart, and began lifting a box in.

"There aren't any out here! There's just you, the gryphons, and a bunch of starving ponies."

Rarity didn't look back. "Hm. I count three options, and I promise you that there is nothing for you at this one. Go."

"To...to the gryphons? Seriously? Wouldn't they just kill us?"

"It pains me to say it, but I neither know nor care," Rarity said dismissively. "What you do is your business."

The foals looked at each other, speaking in hushed voices. Then they turned, and hobbled away, going as fast as the pathetic colt could manage.

Rarity kept packing. The foals slipped out of her mind. Last autumn, the first begging foal on the brink of death had made a lasting impression. So did the second. But after having seen thousands dead and dying in the desolation of winter, the sight had lost its impact. Charity was for ponies without responsibilities. Rarity had work to do.



-----------------



Pinkie Pie bounded through the forest, following the guide pony. She smiled. The forest was so pretty. And her soldiers looked so neat in their little uniforms. And up ahead there was going to be a battle. BATTLE. She winced. Nope! Not gonna worry about that. There was plenty to BATTLE WAR DEATH. She winced and shook her head. There was plenty to do, and PEACHY DYING DEAD PEACHY WAR LIONS TEARING IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN AGAIN ha ha, no, everything is fine. She remembered when WHEN PEACHY DIED SHE WAS IN YOUR ARMS SHE KNEW SHE WOULD DIE AND YOU TOLD HER SHE WOULDN'T AND SHE KNEW YOU HAD LIED ha ha. She remembered when she was scared of war. But now she wasn't scared. Because she knew there wasn't anything to be scared of! THE LIONS TEAR PONIES APART WE ARE BAGS OF BLOOD AND IT ALL COMES OUT ha ha ha that's silly. It's very silly. How could anypony be afraid of something so silly? The thought of it is just ridic-YOU ARE GOING TO DIE YOU ARE GOING TO FEEL THE CLAWS OPEN YOUR STOMACH AND YOU WILL FEEL EVERYTHING FALL OUT-ulous. She laughed. No, that doesn't even make sense. Pinkie Pie is a pony, and that means...well, it means she's a pony! And ponies laugh and smile and live. AND THEY DIE THEY DIE OH GOD THEY DIE DO THEY FEEL IT DO THEY FEEL IT WHEN THEIR HEADS ARE CRUSHED IN THOSE JAWS DO THEY FEEL THEIR SKULLS COLLAPSING IN THE LAST MOMENT OR ARE THEY DEAD BEFORE THEY CAN ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. No. That's just ha ha ha ha ha. That's not real. It's real. And it's ridiculous! Ha ha ha ha ha. So ridiculous.

She kept walking. She kept laughing. And her soldiers looked uneasily around. Lt. Pie was a good officer. She cared for them and did things for them and made camp life tolerable and even trained them well. But...her laughter. Her eerie, unhinged laughter. They hated her laughter.



----



By the time Twilight arrived, the artillery had already deployed. They were in a single battery--a line of 60 cannons, each loaded with carcass shot, each prepared to drop liquid fire on the enemy. She nodded in satisfaction. Her artillery was the strength of the New Equestrian Army. The line infantry were brave but couldn't stand up to a lion charge for long. The cavalry were gallant--and their daring tactics made them superior to the slow, reactionary gryphons--but they couldn't win a fight by themselves. But her artillery was accurate, powerful, and technologically advanced. It had proven itself at the Battle of Westmarch--well, now the First Battle of Westmarch. Twilight had trained them well.

Her pegasus spotters introduced themselves; their job was to zip over to a different part of the forest, pop up and sight the battlefield, and then return. For this battle Twilight insisted on handling the math to square the difference between the spotter's perspective and the cannons' positions; it would give her something to do other than sit and ruminate while the cannons fired.

She tried not to think about her friends. Her idea last night--telling them to ask themselves why they did things--was obviously ridiculous. It obviously was going to get laughed off. And...and she obviously wouldn't be able to turn them back into the ponies she once knew and liked. She sighed. At some point in the next few months, Col. Twilight Sparkle was going to be Field Marshal Sparkle, Commanding General of the New Equestrian Army. And after that...well, she highly doubted she would have any friends at all. It was lonely at the top.

She checked her hourglass. The diversionary force should be approaching within the hour.



----



Applejack walked calmly through the forest. A private--a new recruit, she couldn't remember his name--came trotting up next to her.

"What's up," Applejack said, lightly tossing her head in his direction.

"So, uh...Lt. Apple?"

"Just call me Apple, sugarcube, everypony else here does."

"All right. Um...Lt. Apple...the other soldiers and I were talking. And...well...we can't help but notice that there's not a whole lot of us out here. Out here in the forest, I mean. Most of the ponies didn't come with us. Are we...are we supposed to flank them after the battle starts? But--"

Applejack glanced off to the side, then fixed her eyes on the pony. "We've got a plan, private. Your job isn't to figure it out. Your job is to do it."

"But...I'm just asking what it is we're supposed to do."

She smiled. "Darlin', 'what it is you're supposed to do' is whatever the heck I say. I said we got a plan and I said it's a good one. So stop worryin' your empty little head, huh? The generals got all sortsa maps and scouts and they're smart as whips."

"I know," he said quietly. "So we're flanking them, then? We'll flank them after the main army engages 'em and then we'll roll 'em up. That's what we're doing, right?"

"Heh. You're too smart for your own good. Stop tryin' to out-think the Princesses. What you're doin' is whatever they say we're doin', and that's all you need to care about."

He paused, thought, then nodded. "All right. I'll tell the others."

She saluted amiably. "See to it that you do."





The ponies slowed their march as they approached the sawed-off stumps that marked the edge of the forest and the beginning of the open farmland. According to their pegasus scout, the gryphons were still loosely deployed in their original defensive formation, and the diversionary force had ended up exactly where they were supposed to be. All that was left was to send the scout to relay the fire order to Twilight. As the pony commanding the center of the diversionary line, Applejack had the honor of writing the order. She did, in her self-taught scrawl, and sent the scout on his way. And then she gave the order to advance.

She marched forward, through the forest. The ponies chattered nervously; the ponies chatted excitedly.

"But I can't hear a battle. I wonder what--"

"--No, I told you, Lt. Apple all but said we were gonna flank 'em once they were engaged."

"Yeah, but why are we advancing now? Do you think somepony screwed up?"

"Apple wouldn't order it if they had. She isn't a stupid pony."

"Yeah, but she's all about doin' what the Princesses say. If the Princesses got some bad information--"

"--look, there's no sense in arguin'. Maybe we charge and flank 'em and then everypony else comes and keeps 'em from fallin' on us. Like, the same thing but in reverse."

"That'd be awfully tricky."

"Yeah, but Princess Luna's awfully tricky, ain't she?"

"No, I bet--"

Suddenly, everypony fell silent. They broke through the clearing. Ahead of them, the entire Gryphon army stretched out in a shockingly, terrifyingly long line snaking across the ridge. To their left was nothing but a broad, expansive field. There was no battle yet. They were the first.

Applejack blew her whistle: two short, one long. Defensive formations. Her soldiers hesitated in shock as the ponies to either side began deploying.  Then, they started deploying as well, hurriedly, nervously.

"We're not even attacking them?"

"Oh...oh, no. You're right. This was a mistake. This was a mistake. They screwed up."

"Why aren't we attacking?"

"Because we were supposed to wait 'till the main army engaged 'em!"

"But--"

"--and now we're just tryin' to stay alive when they all fall on us."

"Oh, my God, we--"

"--yeah. We're screwed. We're so screwed."

Applejack felt a familiar sinking sensation. No. No, this wasn't right. Tellin' 'em the truth just made 'em doubt. Tellin' 'em the generals made a mistake made 'em scared. She didn't tell 'em anythin' but to trust the generals. How could--how could--

From behind the ponies, there was the resounding rumbling of cannon fire. It was much farther away than it was in the last battle. But there were many more cannons--bigger cannons. The shockwave wasn't as sharp, but it rumbled the ground and rang from every direction as it echoed through the forest. It was as if the Earth itself was groaning in pain.

On the left flank of the gryphon lines, carcass shot exploded. She had heard it before, but she was hiding in the grass. Now, for the first time, a clear view of just what "carcass shot" really meant. High above the enemy lines, there were tiny puffs of smoke; magical charges were going off. As the little black canisters tumbled to the ground, they broke apart, and liquid fire fell out. Some broke apart early, spreading a thin coating over wide range. Some broke apart on impact, splashing the sticky flame on anyone unlucky enough to be nearby. Either way it burned--the oil kept burning no matter what its victims did. It stuck to feathers. It stuck to fur. It stuck to armor. It stuck to skin. It stuck to the ground. It stuck and it burned, and anyone touched by it shrieked and cringed and rolled in helpless agony until they died. The lucky ones were consumed quickly. Some didn't die until they asphyxiated, their own burning flesh swallowing all the oxygen that might have gotten to their lungs. It was horrible. It was beyond horrible. It was criminal. But it was effective.

Across the gryphon lines, drums and squawks sounded out. They began to form ranks. She heard the familiar rat-tat-a-tat-tat-a-tat-tat ordering a march. A force of gryphon hussars formed to charge the pony line--to keep them from attacking the lions as they redeployed. "See?!" she shouted. "Just like we thought! It's workin'! I told you we had a plan!"

"They're going to attack us! They're all going to attack us," another unfamiliar voice shouted. Applejack cringed. Damned new recruits. They never trust you. No matter.

The hussars approached. The pony cuirassers and lancers deployed above the pony center. Applejack ordered the ponies to close ranks, shoulder-to-shoulder. This would be smooth. The ponies would easily repel the charge, the gryphons would hurry to redeploy and get sloppy, and then the pony cavalry would swoop in, tear apart the redeploying gryphon cavalry, pin the lions--or better, make them break ranks to reenforce their flank and turn their army into a mob--and then the infantry would roll them up. It wouldn't take fifteen minutes. The ground rumbled again as the hussars approached. Again, dozens of canisters burst in and around the enemy lines.

Then Applejack saw something else, and grinned: a company of lions was charging the ponies in a loose mob. They must be terrified. They were losing their discipline already. "See, look," she shouted, "they're falling apart! It's workin'!" She heard squawking and crashing above her. Fifty feet in front of the ponies and sixty feet above, the charging hussars and countercharging cuirassers smashed into each other. Immediately after, the lancers swooped around the skirmish and charged the hussars' rear in a hammer-and-anvil. Too easy. They weren't thinking at all.

She looked back ahead. The lions were charging wildly--and directly at her ponies. She fixed her attention on them, watching their range. Closer. Closer. Closer. She blew her whistle again: prepare to kick a rock volley. Closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. Now. She blew it again: fire. Yet only a few rocks launched forward. She looked around her. Her eyes went wide. Her stomach leapt. Around her, only a handful of ponies remained. She turned wildly and looked behind her. The rest had fled. She turned back. The lions were nearly on top of her. On either flank, line infantry rushed in to close the gap. She gritted her teeth. A lion leapt. She watched him rise. She watched him fall. She kicked out her legs. She felt the right one miss. She felt the left one glance against his muzzle and slide off, slipping wildly further to the left. She felt him crash into her body, spreading her legs wide. And with a pop, she felt her legs shatter.



-----



Rainbow Dash squinted as she watched the battle through the trees. She wasn't expecting the lion charge. That was good; she was expecting them to be brushed aside. But she certainly wasn't expecting the pony center to break before they had even engaged the enemy. And she wasn't expecting the gryphons to reenforce the skirmish. She bit her lip. They'd notice that the ponies weren't reenforcing their supposed vanguard; they'd realize it was a diversionary force with nothing backing it up. She knew what she should do. She should take the Third and Second lancers, reenforce the diversionary force as if they were coming up from the main body, and force the gryphons to resume redeployment. She knew that having the diversionary force break wasn't part of the plan. And she knew that if she didn't do anything, Applejack and Pinkie Pie would likely die, and Twilight soon after, as the gryphons chased the fleeing survivors back to the artillery battery. She knew the lives of her old friends--and the fate of the battle-depended on it. If the diversion broke, the main army would withdraw into the forest unseen. But they wouldn't have the opportunity to fight again any time soon. And they wouldn't have artillery, either. They might lose their baggage train in the retreat, too. Put those together, and that would turn the army from a fighting force into a crippled band of refugees.

But hadn't she thought the exact same thing last time--that there was a mistake and lives of ponies she cared about depended on her fixing it? And hadn't she been dead wrong?  Last time she nearly lost the battle by herself. Maybe she'd do the same thing again--and losing a battle might well mean losing the army if it turned into a rout. Luna said to follow orders to the letter. And Luna had a plan last time. She certainly had a plan this time. And either way there would be new orders soon. The Princesses were two minutes' flight time behind the cavalry. If this was a mistake, there would be new orders any second. 

But the messenger's two minutes' flight time back to the Princesses, plus however long it took them to consider and issue new orders, plus the messenger's two minutes' flight time back, plus the five minutes it would take to wheel around through the forest...her old friends might all be dead by then, and the battle lost. She didn't want to be too close to her friends. But she couldn't let them die either.

But she was supposed to follow orders. But she was expected to be a hero. But she needed to save her friends. She knew she couldn't afford to wait for new orders. She knew she couldn't afford not to.

She floated just off the ground, wings flapping, mind paralyzed. She saw some pony light infantry circling around the skirmish to flank a fresh ground of charging lions. She saw another group of lions about to flank them in turn.

If she waited and was wrong, she'd have the death of her friends and the crippling of her army on her conscience. If she ignored orders, helped the diversionary force, and was wrong, she might have the loss of the battle, the loss of the army and then the loss of the war on her conscience.

She had to order a wheeling turn and the reenforcement of the diversion. She had to sit there and wait for orders. And picking the wrong one would be worse than death.

Worse than death.

Death.

With her teeth, she pulled her orders out of her small leather bag. She read them again: Order a lancer charge when the diversion appears and the gryphons begin to redeploy. She heard Luna's voice in her head. She was expected to follow her orders to her utmost ability. The diversion had indeed appeared. The gryphons had indeed begun to redeploy--though they had stopped soon after. A gear in a machine would do what it had to do, whether it made the machine break or made the machine work. And a gear in a machine doesn't have to care. It might break. It might be destroyed. But it doesn't regret doing what it did. Because it didn't have a choice.

She looked back at the gryphon lines. On the crest of the ridge, lion infantry were in tight formation, spears braced. A charge would be suicide. A charge would break her and break her ponies. But...a gear didn't care if it broke. And a gear didn't care if other gears broke.

She breathed in. She felt the air fill her lungs. It was a familiar sensation. It was life itself. She put her whistle to her lips. And she exhaled, forcing every bit of air back out of her lungs. Her whistle screeched. One long, loud, fateful, screech; a banshee wail; a death cry; the sudden end of thousands, of millions, in a slash of airsplitting sound. Her lungs ran out of air. The whistle rasped to a silent halt. As if in response, the cannons fired another volley; the rumbling of an anguished Earth resonated through the woods. In the distance, another round of carcass shells soared gracefully through the air, towards their violent end in fire.

The thousands of Royal Lancers soared gracefully through the air, too, Rainbow Dash at the lead.



------



Pinkie Pie giggled, bouncing around her target. "Ha ha, you can't catch me, ha ha ha! Bet you want to! But nope!" She kicked again, this time feeling through her hoof the lioness's eye socket collapse. She fell to the ground in pain. Pinkie kicked yet again. This time her whole skull collapsed, her body shook in a single spasm, and she went still. Pinkie giggled. "Hee hee! That's just what Ruby Teardrop did when you flung her head-first into that rock!" Then she bounced away, rolled, and found another lion to fight.

Around her, her unarmored ponies were being torn apart. Light infantry were a harassment force; their mandate was to engage, retreat, and repeat. They were supposed to screen charges, scatter, and re-form. They were supposed to use their speed to flank unsuspecting enemies. Yet for the second time, her girls were in the middle of a brawl. This time, it was fun. It was a party. It was a game where you lay down and went to sleep when you lost.

The lion swiped at her. She ducked and giggled. The lion swiped again. She jumped over his claw, laughing, and thunked him on the head with her front hoof. She landed in front of him, then leapt back.

"You're weak, pony," he growled. "You can't fight us."

Pinkie cocked her head, and giggled. Then she bounced, twisted her body around, and pulled her legs in tight--and then her legs exploded straight back. The lion's head burst like a tomato being hit by a hammer. "Ha ha ha ha. My sisters and I used to break rocks for fun when we were fillies, silly kitty!" 

She looked around--there were a lot more lions than there were a few minutes ago. A lot fewer ponies, too. She spied two lions closing on a pony nervously backing away. She ran up to them, leapt into the air over one lion's head, then kicked him as she fell in front of his head. His head snapped back--straight back, parallel to the ground--and he crumpled with a heavy thud. At the same time, the other lion tore into the frightened pony with his teeth, neatly amputating a front leg and much of her ribcage. Her eyes rolled into her head, she grabbed at the wound with her other hoof, and she fell unsupported to the ground, where she pawed desperately at her exposed, torn lung--until she stopped moving altogether.

Pinkie laughed giddily. "Boy. Nopony can stand on two legs if their body's all forward like that. That was really dumb of her!"

The lion bounced up onto his rear legs, preparing to drop down and crush Pinkie. Pinkie raised an eyebrow. "Y'know, lions can't stand on one foot either." With one leg she kicked at his leg, while with the other three she prepared to spring forward and out of the way. The lion fell forward, and Pinkie leapt away.

And Pinkie hit the ground roughly, her leg trapped under the lion's body. She grunted in frustration. She had mis-timed her leap. The lion shook off the impact, pushed his frame off the ground with his front feet, and bit. Pinkie felt a snap resonate through her leg bones. She pulled the leg back. It left his mouth easily. At the end there was no hoof. There was just a ragged stump, out of which protruded a bloodied, whitish broken bone. She kicked with her shattered leg, sending the exposed bone through the lion's eye. The lion began convulsing. Pinkie pulled the bloody stump back out. The lion collapsed. The numbing adrenaline subsided. Pinkie bit her lip. The pain kept rising. She instinctively reached forward and cradled the leg in her front hooves. The pain kept rising. A strangled, incoherent whisper escaped her lips. The pain kept rising. Pinkie closed her eyes and shrieked, blood vessels in her eyes bursting. The scream mixed with a dozen just like it. 



----



A messenger flew back to the forward command tent, his eyes wide. He spoke so quickly Celestia could barely understand him. "The cavalry have all committed to a frontal attack. All of them. Every single one. The lancers launched some sort of desperation charge before our messenger arrived. The cuirassers followed; I don't know why.  Maybe they assumed that's what you ordered. And now they're getting torn apart out there. And the diversionary force is gone. I mean gone. The lions are running in pursuit through the forest. The artillery is gonna go next; the pickets there can't do more than warn the cavalry that they're going to be under attack, but the cavalry is throwing itself against their spears, I don't even understand--"

Celestia frowned. "That's enough, private." The messenger bit his lip. He was trembling.

Celestia spoke. She spoke with a voice of quiet command. A thousand years of crises flared in her eyes. "If we lose our cavalry and our artillery, we're not an army.  We won't be able to fight. We won't even be able to protect our supply trains. We'd be helpless. And if we're helpless, Equestria is helpless."

She turned to a general next to her. "Order everypony to form a line, two ponies deep, and advance," she said, her steel voice filling the tent, filling the camp, possibly filling the skies. "Everypony. Every. Pony. Recruits. Support unicorns. Medical personnel. Generals. Court-martialed convicts. Everypony. And bring me my armor. We need to own this battlefield by sundown. Nothing else matters. Not my life. Not your lives. Not anypony's lives. I will lose my blood before I lose Equestria."



---



Fluttershy sat in her cave. The cannonfire rumbled through the ground. A stalactite fell from the ceiling. She whimpered, and laid her head on the ground. Suddenly, she heard voices.

"In here! In here! C'mon! It's okay! It's a cave; we can hide in here."

She looked up. Two bloodied, unarmored ponies stumbled in. Fluttershy looked at them. One of them had a deep gash across her side, from which blood was still flowing. The other had a nasty series of gouges across his face; his eyes were slammed shut, and blood poured out of them. The sighted one looked at Fluttershy.

"You're...you're Fluttershy. You're Fluttershy, aren't you."

Fluttershy tried to swallow. Her mouth was dry as sand.



---



Above Rainbow Dash, ponies and gryphons were scattered across the sky.  Below Rainbow Dash, the ground was thicker with dead and dying ponies. Dash paid the casualties no mind. She glided easily over the lions' wall of braced spears, then performed a quick inverted loop, tearing her lance through a lion's shoulder. She then took a hard right, and performed the maneuver again, this time bringing herself even closer to the ground.  She fought ever more recklessly, openly daring the lions and gryphons to bring her down.

Beside Dash, Spitfire did the same. Her brow was furrowed; her expression was pure concentration. She fought as if she were performing a particularly challenging trick. Suddenly, Dash took a hard turn skywards. Spitfire looked up. She saw Dash tear through three hussars. A fourth and fifth hussar dived past Dash and towards Spitfire. She juked right, out of the way of their swords--and directly into a lion's spear. The iron tip tore through her right wing, snapping the hollow bones and tearing the muscle. She yelped, and crumpled to the ground. From above, Dash heard the familiar voice, and looked back just in time to see Spitfire hit the ground. A lion calmly walked over and drove his spear through the Wonderbolt's chest. Dash froze. She stared in horror.

The lion lifted the spear again, and aimed it carefully at her throat. He brought it down. He hit nothing but dirt. Around his spear, their was a strange spectral rainbow. He poked at it with his weapon. It was completely ethereal.

Dash soared towards the forest, Spitfire's gasping body cradled in her front hooves. Behind her, the few remaining pegasi scattered and fled, gryphons in close pursuit.



---



"FIRE," Twilight shouted again. Thirty cannons erupted, each loaded with canisters of grape-sized metal balls. In front of the battery, the charging line of lions collapsed, their bodies ripped to shreds by the iron blizzard.

"RELOAD," she shouted again. It wasn't necessary. Her artillerists were working as hard as they could.

A company of Gryphons suddenly dived into the blasted-open hole in the canopy through which the artillery was  and began poured through. "RAISE, FIRE," Twilight shouted. A second passed. The cannons fired. The gryphons vanished in the wind of shards.

She looked behind her. She wasn't sure why. Her spotters had been killed long ago; she had no idea how the battle was going. But it couldn't have been going well. And the lions were getting closer with each charge.

Another band of lions came. "LOWER, FIRE," Twilight shouted again. Again, the enemy line fell--this one ten feet closer than the last.



----



Rarity charged forward, her hooves beating against the ground. Around her, the remnants of the New Equestrian Army did so as well. Iron cannonballs screamed through them, ripping ponies in half, their turbulent wake tearing limbs from bodies. Above her, gryphons swooped down, merrily slashing individual ponies. Before them, the lions licked their lips. The ponies were closing. They were quite close, indeed.

Suddenly, there was a crack to her left. In front of the crack, a dozen lions went soaring into the sky. There was another crack. A dozen more flew backwards, crashing into and through a line of reserves. She craned her head. Celestia, her mane flowing, her face grim determination, raised  her horn. Out of it came another crack, and a cone of yellow energy flashed out of her horn. This time, a band of gryphons were sent tumbling through the air, and fell hard to the ground. Rarity lowered her own head as she ran. She leapt at a lion, his spear missing her widely. As she flew through the air, she tensed her shoulders against her neck. And with a wet snap, her horn embedded itself in his skull. She narrowed her eyes. The back of the gryphon's head blew off. She hit the ground, and yanked her horn free. Then she looked around, saw the lions in every direction, and leapt at one, shrieking in desperation.

The battle was fierce; fiercer than the first one. Ponies fought with the feral determination of knowing that someone's death was the only outcome.  Lions fought with the intense bloody pleasure of a predator that sees his prey about to die. Lions and gryphons massed around Celestia, and were repeatedly launched backwards in shockwaves of solar energy. Rarity kicked repeatedly. She couldn't break a lion in one kick like an Earth pony, but she had a seamstress's pinpoint control over her hooves. The battle was desperate

Suddenly, she saw in front of her a tiny lion. She stopped for a second. It wasn't a lion. It was a filly. She wore a tiny Gryphonic Army uniform. She cowered in fear. Her lime-green mane fell around her face. Rarity looked at the foal. The foal looked back. Suddenly, an armored pony kicked her in the face. She crumpled to the ground. Rarity stared in horror. The foal twitched. Around her, the carnage continued unabated.

To the left, Celestia gasped in pain. There was a sudden enormous crack, and she fell to the ground, unconscious.

---

There was an enormous crack.

Applejack looked around as she dragged her body through the forest. There was little but dead ponies, mixed with the occasional dead lion.  She didn't know where she was crawling. She just couldn't stay where she was, even though the pain of moving was intense.

She heard a voice calling her name. She looked at the source of the voice. A pink pony. Pinkie Pie. Applejack smiled faintly, and the two dragged their bodies towards each other. With much effort, each finally managed to reach the other. Applejack laid on her back. So did Pinkie. The crowns of their heads touched.

"Guess we lost," Pinkie said sadly. She rolled her head back and forth. "Guess we'll die. You know...I was...I was so afraid to die. I acted so weird because I was afraid to die. Now that I'm going to...well, it's kinda funny. I don't care. I'm past caring. I really, really, really don't care. And I'm not bragging or anything. I was just so scared for so long...I can't be scared when it's happening. It's like, it'll happen, I won't feel it, and that's it. I was dead before I was born. I'll be dead again. And...I guess that's okay. I'm just sorry everypony else died scared."

Applejack sighed. "Yeah. I knew comin' into it I might die. I just didn't want to let anypony else die 'cause of me. But I did. Heck." She breathed in deeply. "Everypony mighta died 'cause of me."

"I don't think one pony did this, Applejack. You're a really good friend and you're really strong and really good, but there are a lot of ponies here. Well. There were a lot of ponies. I know most of my girls ran away but...well. They'll get caught, I guess. A gryphon flies faster than a pony can run."

Applejack closed her eyes. "Maybe they will, maybe they won't. But I've had some time to think lyin' here. And I thought about that dumb thing Twilight said. And I didn't understand what I was doin'. Like...I thought I was supposed to tell the truth because it made me a good pony all by itself. And that didn't work. And then I thought I was supposed to never say nothin', but that didn't work. And both times ponies died 'cause of it. But I understand now, sorta. I told the truth because it made good things happen. And I stopped saying anything because I thought it would make good things happen. And...I guess I shoulda realized that. I shoulda been focused on makin' good things happen the ways I best know how. But...hell. It's too darn late for that." Her eyes opened a bit wider. 

"I know. I thought about it too. And...I laughed because it made good things happen, too. Laughing made silly things less scary, and made ponies who were sad about dumb stuff happy because it reminded them they were just being all mopey and dumb. But then I started laughing because I was scared. And that didn't make anypony happier or safer. It didn't at all. It just made them scared, I think, because it didn't make sense. And I know I don't make sense all the time, but Applejack, I don't make sense in ways people like. That's why I do it! I like to make ponies happy! But...then I took a good thing and made it bad because I didn't want to deal with a bad thing. And that only made the bad thing worse. I wish I had figured it out earlier." She sighed. "I'm so silly." Her eyes opened a bit wider.

Applejack spoke. It was almost an interruption. "I...feel somethin' weird. A tinglin'"

"Me too," Pinkie replied. "Like..."

"Like I kinda understand. I don't really know who I am now. But..."

"But now I know, the way I was..."

They spoke together, in an ethereal, sparkling voice. "That's not who I am."



---



There was an enormous crack.

Fluttershy dressed her vistors' wounds with her bedding, and placed a salve made from crushed mushrooms and glowbugs on the blinded pony's eyes, which she covered up with a rough scrap of her old uniform.

"Now this won't make you see. You won't ever see. But it'll keep it from getting infected," she said softly.

He nodded. "...thanks," he said. He sounded reluctant. "Thanks. Um. Fluttershy."

The other pony nodded too. "This is weird, Fluttershy. You...you're really important. You're really famous. Like...everypony was so relieved when they heard you would be part of the army. But then you left. And everypony knew. And I don't think it's been the same since."

Fluttershy bit her lip.

The blinded pony spoke. "Last fall plenty of ponies died on the battlefield because they didn't get help. We needed you. And last winter plenty of ponies died of disease because they didn't get help. We need you then, too. And through the whole thing...we were hanging on to any scrap of hope. And you six were a big scrap of hope. And then you left. And we needed you then, too."

Fluttershy sighed. Her eyes watered. Suddenly, she burst out screaming. "Oh, I know, I know, I know, I know! I was scared! I was so scared of watching ponies die and I was so scared of having my friends get hurt. Because they would get hurt and there would be nothing I can do! I'm really brave when I can make things better but I can't fix a war! You're just there and then you die! And you die! And you die! And I can't fix that! It's awful and I couldn't deal with how awful it is!"

The blinded pony looked incredulous behind his bandage. "What are you saying?! Are you bucking serious? You're telling a pony who had to look death in the face over and over again--a pony who saw two awful battles and a winter of disease and starvation and more dead ponies and yes dead foals than I had seen living ponies before the war?  A pony who won't ever again see anything but that lion's claws coming down on my face, over and over and over again? You're telling me that you you didn't want to see that war was bad? Do you think any of us want to see war? Do you think any of us think we can fix war ourselves? And we're just ponies, not some magic kindness fairy!"

"I'm not--" Fluttershy whimpered.

"I can't believe you," the other pony said. "I cannot believe you. You...you left us all. You left everypony. You left us all to die. Any one of us might have been wounded at any point in any battle. And any one of us might have died on the battlefield with nopony to save us. And you were sitting here instead of saving us--saying that we could all die for all you care--because you think war is bad? Sweetheart, we all know war is bad! We all hate it! And we all know we can't fix it! But we fight and die because we know we can help. Not fix it. But help."

"I'm--" Fluttershy suddenly stopped. "I'm awful," she continued. "You're right. I was selfish. I hid because I was scared. And I hid until I thought hiding was the real world. And I kept hiding even when I came back to the world because I was scared. But...that's an awful, cruel thing to do. The war will happen whether I hide from it or not. I pretended you weren't real. You still got hurt. I don't...I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know if I can handle war. But, the awful way I've been acting..."

Her eyes grew wide. She spoke in an ethereal, sparkling voice.

"That's not who I am."



---

There was an enormous crack.

And the ponies ran in scattered, panicked retreat. Princess Celestia--or her body--was now the property of the gryphons. The New Equestrian Army was a sprinking of terrified ponies running in every direction across two square miles.

Rarity ran. She ran and she ran and she dived into a ditch made by a cannonball, and with her hooves and her magic she covered all of her body with dirt but her snout.

I deserve to die. I deserve to lie here until I'm dead and buried. Oh, I don't even deserve to be buried. I deserve to be torn apart and eaten by gryphon beaks. I was so stupid, so awful and horrid and evil and mean and horrendous and terrible and and and--oh, I was so...bad. Hm. I thought I knew more synonyms than that. Well...how about...atrocious? Yes. That will do nicely.

Oh, what am I doing? I'm still so selfish! Element of Generosity and I won't even give a poor filly some medicine--and we had so much and we won't ever get to use it--and I won't even complement Sweetie Belle and Derpy Hooves a thousand miles from them! I won't give ponies food! 

I don't know. I was generous because I thought it made me classy, and--ugh--I certainly must be the first classy mare in my awful family. But...then being classy didn't matter? And then giving people things became complicated and oh I still don't know whether I should have taken all those poor ponies' food and I still don't know anything. Oh. I'm such a mess. And I won't ever know now.

I just...I just know that telling a poor filly to go to the gryphons when she just wants some medicine for her sick father...I know that isn't me. I don't know who I am. But the pony I've been...

Her eyes went wide. She spoke in an ethereal, sparkling voice. "That's not who I am."



---


There was an enormous crack.

Rainbow Dash cradled Spitfire. The Wonderbolt coughed weakly, then a bit harder. She spat blood out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry," Rainbow Dash said.

"Why?" Spitfire said, smiling weakly. Dash couldn't tell if it was sarcastic. "You did what you thought was necessary. It was brave." She coughed again. "You fought with us. You risked your life like you asked us to risk ours. And," she coughed, "we did it willingly."

"I know. But...I had orders before. At the Battle of My Hill, I guess I can call it. And I ignored them. And a lot of ponies died. I ignored my orders, Spitfire. It was supposed to be an ambush and I ruined it. And...everypony thinks I'm a hero because I won a bad battle. But...they don't know that the battle was bad because of me."

Spitfire smiled. "Yeah we do."

Dash stopped. "Huh?"

"Of course we do. Armies don't keep secrets that big. But...Dash. Every one of us is willing to lay down our lives for the army. Each of us." Her body was wracked with violent coughing. Blood trickled out of the corners of her mouth. "We knew when we joined we might die. And we promised to die if it would help. And you didn't let us die like we promised, and a bunch of ponies died, and that was a bad thing. But Dash! You did a bad thing for a good reason." More coughs. "You thought you had to keep us alive at any cost. So you didn't understand what enlisting really meant. But then...then you put your own life on the line over and over and over and over again. And you didn't know you had made a mistake but you fixed it. We don't love you because we think you're perfect. We love you because you fixed a mistake you made for good reasons. You nearly killed us all. But you saved us all, too. And ponies can forgive a lot, Dash."

Spitfire coughed violently from the effort of speaking--so violently she retched.

Dash stopped.

"I should have talked to you a long time ago," she said slowly.

Spitfire smiled. "Yeah. But you did now. And you didn't talk to me because you couldn't love us and let us die. And I understood that too. And at least I won't die with you acting like some jerk to a pony who thinks you're pretty awesome. You know. Ridiculous dyed mane and all."

Dash laughed. "I don't dye it."

Spitfire laughed too, then coughed up more blood. "C'mon, Dash. Why lie to a dying mare?"

"I...I really don't dye it, Spitfire."

"Huh."

They were quiet.

"I don't know. I thought being loyal meant keeping people alive. Then I thought it was good to not be loyal because loyalty killed ponies too. I just...I just didn't understand. I didn't understand anything, really."

"Nope." Spitfire smiled faintly. Her eyes defocused.

"So I acted in an awful way. If I had done either of the things I thought would be good, we might have won. We probably would have. But I did a dumb thing because I couldn't deal with letting ponies die either way--ponies who agreed to die to save others. So I let everypony die in a way I thought wouldn't make me guilty but I feel worse than I've ever felt in my whole life Spitfire. I didn't really understand what I need to do, Spitfire. And I still don't. And I probably never will. I never, ever will, because the war is probably over and we're all going to die."

Spitfire didn't respond. Dash checked her pulse, and gently set her to the ground.

"But, Spitfire...at least I know something. And I know because of you. I know that the way I was acting this whole time..."

Her eyes opened wide. She spoke in an ethereal, sparkling voice. "That's not who I am."



---



Each of the five spoke at once in an ethereal, sparkling voice. "That's not who I am."

And energy coursed through her body, and coalesced in the shape of a pendant. And her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and her mind was slammed by power she didn't understand. She felt peace, for the first time in months. Her mind tapped into unlimited potential; she saw the universe at it was and could be and never would be, all filtered through her cardinal virtue. She felt a part of her consciousness she hadn't felt in a long time. She felt a part of her consciousness that she had shut off a long time ago. And as the mental gate flooded open, the Flow--the eternal pool of potential from which the universe was made and from which the mind originates, coursed through her body. She was not a pony with her virtue. She was her virtue. Her body lifted off the ground, and it floated towards a point at the exact center of the five. And they met there, above the unconscious form of Celestia at the center of the gryphon camp. 

Gryphons flew up to stab them, to slash at them. They couldn't. They couldn't get near them. A spherical, solid rainbow of five unblended colors spun around the five.

And hiding beneath a tree root, Twilight Sparkle suddenly felt something she hadn't felt in a long time. She felt peace. She felt the five cardinal virtues pouring into her mind. Her eyes opened and glowed with white energy. Her body lifted off the ground. In her consciousness, the five virtues coalesced together into one entity. Her raw magical ability--her unlimited ability to harness the Flow--blended the five. A purple ray shot from her body. It mixed with the other five swirling, iridescent colors. And Twilight floated to join the five. They each closed their eyes and smiled as they spun together. Virtue and color and pure magic--pure consciousness--radiated from them. And as purple joined the other five colors, the rainbow blended into a shining sphere of magic.

And then they opened their eyes. Each pair of eyes shone with a light of unfathomable brightness. The gryphons shielded their faces, but the light was still blinding. And the sphere of color suddenly shrunk down to a single white point at the center of all six.

And then, with a silent, deafening roar, it burst into a radiant explosion, and the power of the Elements--the Magic of Friendship--coursed through them and into the world .













---






Elsewhere.



"Where am I?"

"You're safe, dear," Celestia said.

"But...where am I?"

"You're safe."

"Am I better now?"

"It depends what you mean by that. Your body is not well. Neither is your mind."

"I felt something."

"That was the Elements."

"So...I'm a good pony again?"

"You always were a good pony. But you were closed off from who you were. And you cracked open the door, and the Elements came flooding back. But...your struggle isn't over. Before the battle you weren't well, and you weren't able to get better. What happened to you only means that now you can get better. You still have to figure out how."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Can I sleep again?"

"Yes."

> XXIV. Colossal Commissure, Punda-Milia. May, 1252
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Colossal Commissure, Punda-Milia. May, 1252


The full moon cast a lovely glow: a cool and peaceful light bathing the world in tranquillity. Tonight a child could sleep outdoors and be confident there were no demons or monsters lurking around the corner. Tonight lovers could admire the pleasing effect such soft light had on the countenance. Tonight Gilda could barely read her ancestor-cursed map.

"You useless little lion-cub," she growled, "what could possibly have gone through your pathetic little head that made you think you didn't need to buy any more torches?!"

"Well," Frankie said, smiling nervously. With a claw she smoothed her ragged, patchy feathers, and continued: "because you said the moon was so pretty last night we hardly needed them, and it was a waxing gibbous, so I figured we'd be fine tonight."

"'Waxing gibbous,' oh for--yeah, it's fine, except we're trying to go to a cursed cave, there isn't a moon inside a cave, and I can hardly read the map as it is!" She stopped, cocked her head, then smiled obnoxiously. Her voice dripped sarcasm. "What, darling little ragged girl, is the point of paying nearly all our gold in bribes for this map..." she trailed off, and let the words fade into the night. She then put her face in Frankie's and shouted, "if it's too dark to read it?"

"You were reading it before!"

"Yeah," Gilda said, "it was daylight. And after that, I was following this dark river line, and then headed towards this big mountain thing. But now we're in this grey stuff, and I can't tell how close we are or where we are or where we need to go! All because you thought--"

You should walk towards that tree, a voice chimed in their heads. Frankie and Gilda turned to look. Screwball floated upside-down, grinning as always.

"Which tree, Screwy," Gilda said, her voice flat, her expression irritated. "There are, in case you haven't managed to 'remember' yet, trees in every direction."

That one!

"Um, Screwball," Frankie said, "there are a lot of trees. It would really help us if you pointed with a claw or something. Or, you know, a hoof."

Screwball extended her rear left hoof. It pointed directly at a rather undignified-looking baobab.

Gilda shrugged. "All right. But it's only like a hundred yards away, I don't think that'll really give us much perspective."

Ha ha ha ha, she laughed, her voice ringing through their skulls.

"What's funny?" Frankie squeaked.

"Probably nothing," Gilda said. "Maybe some gryphon chick twenty years ago fell out of its nest. Or maybe--" Suddenly, Gilda found her left hind paw was nowhere near where she expected it--it was stuck. She tugged at it as she lost her balance, then crashed inelegantly to the ground, her face hitting the dirt. She caught her breath, then checked back at her paw. It was caught between a root and a crack in the soil.

Gilda glared behind her. "You did that on purpose."

Yep! We're here!

"No, we aren't. We're looking for a cave called the Colossal Commissure. This here? This is a three-inch crack in the ground. Not. Colossal." Gilda tugged at her paw. It was trapped a bit tighter than she was expecting.

"I dunno," Frankie said, "It's just big enough to get in over here. Like maybe...I dunno. A couple feet wide. And it goes down a little bit. We could fit."

Gilda reached back and snipped the root with her beak, then shook her freed paw. "Look. We're looking for the Colossal Commissure, where an ancient magical stone was safeguarded. A crack in the ground doesn't exactly fit the bill."

"I wouldn't look here for it," Frankie said, then dropped down into the hole. "Hey! It's a lot bigger than I thought! I bet even a fat gryphon like you could fit."

"Fine," Gilda said, and sighed. "But we're not spending long, and if you sprain a leg on a rock or something dumb like that I'm not carrying you." She put her claws on either side of the crack, and lowered herself down. A few seconds later, Screwball looked around, paused a second, then floated head-first down the hole.

Together they felt their way through the pitch-black tunnel.

"You're checking for sinkholes and traps and other paths, right Frankie? You're going kinda fast," Gilda said.

"Uh, Gilda? I'm a Talon. You're like a Talon tourist. Little respect, huh?"

Gilda held her tongue. Frankie was right. "Sure, kid."

They pushed on for another minute, then Gilda turned to look behind her. Two spiral-etched purple pupils floated in the darkness. "Screwball. Is this where we find it? It's pretty important. I'd think you'd remember if it was."

One of the pupils spun in a half-circle. I don't remember anything past going down this hole. I never did. I always wondered why.

"Well, that's encouraging," Gilda muttered.



Suddenly, the gryphons fell through the ground. They fell ten feet or so, and hit the ground roughly. Screwball, for her part, floated gently down until she was her customary three feet off the floor.

Gilda growled, "I thought you said you were checking for--"

She was interrupted by a dessicated voice; the voice of a body dead and dried. It spoke in a rhythmic voice, with each vowel getting its own syllable, and each vowel sound pure. "Twa Gryphones and a littel Hors cometh to myn fosse-cave. Hwaet seketh they?"

Gilda looked around. They were in a round chamber, sparse and unadorned, about ten feet high and having a radius of about forty feet. At the center was an ancient zebra sitting upright with crossed legs. The room was lit by a small glowing pebble held between his front hooves. He floated a foot off the ground, and was encased in a bubble of crackling magical power. She shook her head. 

"Look, stripes," she said, "I get you're old but I don't really wanna talk to you in Middle Equestrian or whatever the heck that's supposed to be. And you're not probably speaking it right anyway--your pronunciation is too textbook. Nobody speaks like a textbook. So it's obviously not your native tongue. And if you're some sort of sage-guardian thing, I can't imagine only speaking a language nobody's spoken in forever makes you effective, huh? So let's recap: I don't speak it. You don't speak it. And there's no reason for you to speak it. So let's drop the lion dung and speak normally, and we keep this friendly."

The zebra furrowed his brow. He spoke in a slight Zebra accent, but his voice remained dry and sandy. "Many over the centuries seek the Occultation. I find it appropriate to speak in the ancestral voices."

"Yeah, that's great. I'm a scribe in the court of the Gryphon King. You've gotta do more to impress me than open a reference book and write a little speech. So let's talk pebble, huh?"

"...the Gryphon King," the zebra said slowly. "It was he who buried it here. One bearing that title, at least. It was many, many, many years ago. Before the last empire fell. Before the coming of the--"

"--look, I know you don't get many visitors, and I'm sure your story is fascinating, but we're kinda in a hurry. There's a war going on, so if you just give us the magic pebble we'll bring it right back in a jiffy, huh? Atta stripeyhorse."

"No." He remained placid.

Gilda shrugged. "All right. Well, I guess we go home now." She turned to leave. She immediately wheeled on her feet, faced the zebra agian, bowed, and glared. "Now let's start over. You want the long form? Here's the long form." She raised her head, and spoke in a clear, even, unnecessarily loud voice. "Respectful greetings from the court of the Most High and Most Powerful, The Rightful Lord and Sovereign of the North, The King of Gryphonia, whose name none are worthy to utter. I am humbly honored to be Twistbeak, scribe to His Dreadful Majesty. I come bearing letters of greetings written by His Dreadful Majesty's own quill, plucked from his own body. Beside me is my compatriate Francesca Talonborn, dedicated from birth to His Dreadful Majesty's service. And behind me is...okay, criminy, no way to pretty that up. Screwball." She pointed to Screwball, who was lying on a heap in the ground. Screwball slowly lifted her head off the floor. Her eyes looked panicked. Both pupils were fixed helplessly on Gilda. 

"Screwball, get up," Gilda said.

Screwball cocked her head. Her eyes darted left and right, both pupils locked together.

"Whatever," Gilda muttered. She looked back at the zebra, and resumed her formal speech. "I come to you now in desperation. We are locked in a bitter battle with our enemy, the malignant Queen of the Ponies, whose very presence denies the world its course, and who holds captive a thousand generations of ancestors in an unholy clockwork prison of deliberately enslaved nature. We seek the Occultation not for our own gain but to right a cosmic wrong."

The ancient zebra nodded slowly. "Do you understand what the Occultation is?"

Gilda glanced around. "Well...it's an artifact of great power. Or, I guess, of no power at all. It turns off magic. It blocks the Flow. And...Celestia's got a ton of magic. So. You know."

Behind them, Screwball crawled awkwardly forward. She coughed gently.

The zebra shook his head slowly, as if he was afraid he might break it. "That is what it does. Do you understand what it is?"

Frankie piped up. "It'll let us kill the Pony Queen real easy and then the war's over!"

The zebra shook his head again. "That is the same answer. Do you understand what it is?"

Gilda scratched her head. "The scrolls weren't clear. And I'm not fluent in Zebra at all."

"All magic comes from the Flow," he intoned wheezily, "the unlimited well of potential that creates and maintains our universe. So does all consciousness. So does all life. Every mind, every soul, every spirit and every spark comes from the Flow. So does every wisp of magic. Some have sought to tap into the Flow, but the results have been disastrous without regulation. Pure potential is quite uncontrollable. The ponies have the Elements of Harmony, which expand access to the Flow by using virtue itself as a gate. And the gryphons made the occultation. It, too, is a gate--but a gate that only blocks the Flow."

Gilda nodded impatiently. "Yes. It blocks the Flow. Stops magic. Exactly what I said."

"No. It stops life. Anyone who dies in the presence of the Occultation does not return to the Flow and everlasting life in communion with all reality. They are simply...extinguished. And in the sustained presence of the Flow, life may not be created. New body cells lack the spark of spirit. The body eventually becomes soulless. It was conceived as a weapon to use against the magically inclined races. It was hidden here as too dangerous and too cruel to be used."

"Then why didn't you destroy it?" Frankie asked.

"It cannot be destroyed. Not by any means we are aware of. It cannot be interrupted. It cannot be overcome. It cannot be destroyed. It is a blight."

Gilda nodded her head. "I understand it is dangerous. I understand that by taking it, we would be putting ourselves in dire risk. But I also--"

"--I can think," a quiet voice behind them said. Gilda turned. So did Frankie. The zebra glanced over Gilda's shoulder. Behind them, Screwball stood uneasily on all four legs. She looked first at Gilda, then at Frankie, then at the zebra. "I can think now. I...I don't think I could. Not for a really, really long time. Like...I can decide what I want to be in my head. And then I can put it there. It's not just...everything. It's so quiet. It's so...so nice. I don't think I've felt this nice in a long time."

The zebra raised an eyebrow. "The pony has been cursed with magic? Is that why she is here--for relief?"

"I don't really know," Screwball said in her half-whisper. "I was playing outside at school. At my special school. And then somepony talked to me. And he said he was Discord and he was my new dad, and he would make me really special. And...and then he said that it wasn't right. And he gave me my hat. And told me that I could get better. And...I don't know what happened next. A lot of things. Everything, I guess. I can't remember. But it feels like I remember everything, if that makes sense. Everything ever. And now I'm here."

"Discord?" The zebra asked. "Did he return?"

"I don't know," Screwball replied, biting her lip. "I don't know how long ago it was. Maybe it was yesterday. Maybe it was forever. I just...I know I'm Screwball. I know Celestia needs to die. And I know Discord is my dad. Where is my dad?"

Gilda looked aside. "He's not your father, Screwball, he's--"

Screwball narrowed her eyes. Her face was an exaggerated look of childish anger. "YES HE IS! HE IS MY DAD! HE GAVE ME MY HAT AND SAID HE'D FIX ME AND HE DID! I WANT TO TELL HIM THANK YOU!"

Gilda shrugged. "He was turned to stone by Celestia. Again. Second time it happened."

Screwball shook in anger, stamping her hooves. Then she stopped, and snorted. "So that's why she needs to die. Good." She nodded, then relaxed. "Um. I'm Screwball. I don't really remember much else. It was all weird images and weird thoughts. Who are you and will you help me?"

"Later," Gilda said, then turned to the zebra. "Yes. As I was saying. I understand it is dangerous. I understand that by taking it, we would be putting ourselves in dire risk. But the entire world is in dire risk. The Occlusion could have been hidden away and forgotten. It could have been tossed into the middle of the Eastern Sea. It could have been encased in polar ice. But it was hidden here, with a keeper, in our ancestral homeland. Surely it was intended to be used again."

The zebra nodded. "Yes. But not lightly."

Gilda bowed. "We wish only--only--to put right what Celestia has made wrong. And if we lose this war, the pony cancer will spread, and the whole world will eventually be put wrong. You say it was given to you for safekeeping by the authority of a Gryphon King. By the authority of a Gryphon King, we wish for it to be returned that an evil might be cleansed."

The zebra thought. "Yes. I have heard the ancestors' cries carried on the North wind. Your cause is just. I only worry you do not understand what danger you will be taking on."

"I understand completely," Gilda said. "I am willing to risk my soul for the fate of the Earth."

The zebra nodded, then from a pocket on his thin vest he took a small potion. He drank it, and the crackling bubble around him subsided. "Electric aura. Doesn't originate in the Flow. Quite handy for keeping thieves away," he winked.

Screwball stumbled forward. "Um...may I please have it? May I? I know you said it's bad, but...I really like having my Flows turned off or whatever it does."

The Zebra looked hesitant. "I...I do not wish to give this to a pony with the mind of a child. It is not fair to curse her to nonexistence."

Screwball pouted. "I was living in a nonek...a not existence for like forever! Please! Just let me live a normal life for a while! It'll be over soon and then I can go back to being whatever I was!"

He pursed his dried lips, then relented. "Very well. The situation may be exceptional."

"On the hat," she squeaked. "Take off the green spinny thing and put that glowy pebble on instead! The hat is totally perfect!"

"As you wish," he said. He popped the spinner off, and placed the Occultation on instead. It immediately snapped into place, as if magnetically.

"Thank you, wise one," Gilda intoned. She looked at Frankie. "Now kill him. He's useless to us."

"Sure thing," she squeaked. She leapt at the shocked zebra and, in one move, swooped around him and sliced his neck open with her talons. She then thrust a talon through his eye and twisted it. He twitched, then fell dead to the ground. "Boy, he's really dumb for an ancient guardian!"

"Eh," Gilda said. "Probably sick of sitting here all day. Wanted to retire. Can't blame him. Too bad he'll be forever nonexistent or whatever the hell he was going on about. Now let's get the heck out of here. We got a pony queen to kill."

Suddenly, the room went dark. Gilda and Frankie looked around in a panic. Off, a voice said. Two spiral pupils floated in the dark.

"On," Screwball said. The rock glowed. She clattered to the ground. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. The light flickered. She left it on. "The nice stripey pony was right. It's a gate. You can open it or close it!"

Gilda looked around. "That's not...um...the scroll didn't say anything about that. Oh. Um. Frankie. Get the Occultation from Screwy. I like her better with the magic off."

"NO," she shouted. "NO NO NO NO NO. DAD SAID I COULD HAVE IT! HE SAID IT WAS MINE!"

The room went dark again. Off. Don't be mean and take things from me. I don't like mean ponies. Or mean gryphons.

"Oh...okay. Okay, Screwball. You can have it. Just...try to keep it on, okay?"

Light. Screwball stuck out her tongue in concentration. "Okay. I...hey. I wonder if you can leave it like sorta open. Like crack it a little. Huh. Hold on." The light flicked on, then off, then on, then off, then dimmed slightly. Then a bit more. Then brightened, then dimmed, then brightened, then dimmed, as her body rose and fell a bit off the ground. She finally settled on a fairly bright glow that left her feet on the ground.

"There we go. It's cracked open now. This is really nice," Screwball said. "I can see some stuff but not much. And I can still do some cool stuff too! I think...huh. I think I could do anything without this thing. But...I couldn't think of anything to do. But now I can think of things. And I can still do lots of them! Ha ha ha! This is awesome!!"

Gilda looked incredibly uneasy. "Um...this isn't at all how I thought this would go. Maybe we should..."

Frankie perked up. "Could you blow up the world?"

Screwball laughed. "I don't want to!"

"Could you blow up the moon!"

"I don't wanna do that either."

Frankie laughed. "Could you turn me into the moon?!"

Screwball stuck out her tongue again. "mmmmmmaybe. Hold on. The moon is small and really high, right?"

Frankie started to speak, then looked around sharply--first at Screwball, then Gilda, then at her chest. "Nngh. Screwball. My skin hurts. You're just..."

"I'm making you small. Shhh."

"No, you're...agh! Stop it! Rrrgrrggrgh!" Blood started to flow from her forehead and back as her skin split. 

"Oops," Screwball said. "Guess I have to do the whole thing. Not just the outside. Hold on."

"Wait," Gilda said. "Wait, no--"

With one explosive, wet noise, Frankie's body collapsed into a beachball-sized reddish-brown orb of compressed skin and bone and organs and muscle and feathers. "There we go! A moon!"

"Oh, dear ancestors--no--no no no no no--no, this isn't happening, no--"

"Huh. But a moon is rock." She stuck out her tongue again. The ball that was Frankie turned to stone. "And it's in the sky!" Suddenly, the ball shot upwards, then shattered against the ceiling. "Oops. That was silly of me. Ha ha."

"Oh my god, no, Screwy! What did you do?! What did I just do?! What did--oh, no, no, no."

"Well, you gave me my pebble, and now I'm all better." Screwball laughed. "And Frankie wanted me to turn her into a moon but I didn't do a very good job so she broke but I'll practice on other people!"

"You killed her! You--you killed her! You just--oh, no, I have to get out of here, I have to go warn somebody, I have to--"

"Well yeah! Moons aren't alive! You're silly...Gilda! I remember your name now. You're silly, Gilda."

Gilda leapt at the hole in the ceiling they had fallen through, then flapped her wings to give her a bit of lift. She managed to get her chin and a claw on the other side of the hole, then started struggling to pull herself out.

"What are you doing, Gilda? Can I come?"

"No! Stay here! Stay here and don't move," she shouted. "Just...stay here and I'll get someone!"

"...you don't like me now that I'm not crazy," she said in her quiet little voice. "You only liked me because I was crazy, didn't you. And now I'm better and you don't like me now."

Gilda felt her talons scraping agianst the rock. She was losing her grip. "No! Ancestors, you're still crazy, you're even worse now that you can think! You're--"

"First you said you were my friend. Now you say I'm bad. You're kind of...a flip flop, Gilda," she half-whispered. "That's a kind of shoe, right? I think I saw that sometime. You called Frankie that a couple times. I don't know what it means. So I guess you're a flip-flop. You're a flip-flop, right Gilda?"

Gilda fell to the ground. She immediately sprang up, and began backing into the wall.

"Fine. Sure. I'm a big flip-flop. Biggest flip-flop ever. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Let's get back to working together, and--"

Screwball nodded, smiling happily. "You're a big flip-flop. Ha ha ha. That's funny. You don't look like a flip-flop. A flip-flop is way smaller than you are. And it's flat. You're not small and flat. But...but I bet I could..." She stuck out her little tongue.

"No. Oh, ancestors, please, no, please, no, please don't, I prom--"

An explosive, wet noise echoed through the chamber, followed by a delighted little giggle.



---



The bazaar roared with life. Zebras everywhere were buying, selling, or just happily ambling through the street. By the side of the road, they drank tea, told stories and jokes, and gambled with dice.

Screwball walked up to a vendor near the city gate. "Hello! Wow! You've got pretty stripes like the old pony who gave me my pebble! Do you know where Celestia is?" She blinked and smiled.

"Mimi kuomba msamaha," he said, shaking his head. "Je, akizungumza lugha ya kaskazini?"

"Hmm," she said quietly. "That's not very helpful. Do you know where I can find Celestia?"

He looked off to the side. "Mimi si kuzungumza lugha yako," he  said awkwardly. "Je, unataka kununua berries baadhi?"

"Princess Celestia."

"...Princess Celestia? Malkia wa farasi mdogo? Anaishi kwa kaskazini na farasi mdogo."

"Celestia." Screwball kept a gentle smile on her face.

"...Siwezi kukusaidia," she said, then turned away.

"Hmm," Screwball said cheerily. "You're really pretty. But you're kinda useless! Just like a...like a flower! Do you want to be a flower now? You'd be a good one!"

He ignored her.

"Okay then!"

An explosive, wet noise echoed through the street. Zebras everywhere turned to look, and all immediately shouted in horror.

"Huh. I guess they're angry now," she said to herself. "That's weird. Oh. Flowers are pretty colors!" She stuck out her tongue, and then the grotesque flesh-flower in front of her turned a sickly purple and green. "Better!"

Behind her, she heard voices  muttering intonations. She felt a tickle in her mind. "Oh," she said, turning to face them. There were three zebras in hoods, each chanting at her. She smiled. "You're doing magic now! I guess you're angry I made him a flower, even though he's a better flower than a pony. On."

She immediately began floating in the air. The zebra shamans behind her suddenly stopped speaking, and grabbed at their heads.

No. No magic. Cracked.

She settled to the ground and smiled cheerfully. "Hm. You want to hurt me, but you're really not very good at it. I guess you're like a bee? Ha ha. A little, little bee."

Three explosive, wet noises echoed through the street. All around, zebras began fleeing in terror. Zebra pushed against zebra. Some were shoved to the ground in the hurry to get out. From the other direction, a dozen zebras in guard uniforms came running up towards Screwball.

"Huh," she said. "They're really crabby. Maybe like crabs are? No...that game is getting boring. I know! Fireworks are pretty!"

One by one, the guards exploded into streaks of light.

She looked around, and sighed. "Hm. They're not very friendly here." She hung her head in simple sadness and dragged a hoof in little circles in the dust, doodling patterns with her single misshapen little sandal.

All around her, panicked shouts rang through the street.



---



Southwest of Manehattan. April, 1252.



Derpy looked over the newest reports, massaging her head. 9,000 recruits. In one month. How on Earth could she train 9,000 soldiers? They were just slowing her down; they couldn't even fight. They would be weeks away from even reserve duty. But...the gryphon army was over twice that size. And she was already having to spend most of her time trying to avoid them. The only option was to get bigger. But...that would only increase the amount of attention she was drawing. Meaning the only option was to become so big she could beat one of their armies in battle. But...if she could beat one, she could beat them all. She only had to beat them without fighting a knock-down battle. To beat every army that way.

Yes. She only had to do that.

So her hope was to take a bunch of farm ponies who had never even heard of "following orders," recruit a bunch more of them, and get them to execute perfect plans with perfect precision. Over. And over. And over. Yeah, Derpy. That's gonna happen.

Suddenly, another pony burst through the door. A pegasus, with a bloodied bandage wrapped around her wings. "General! It's me. Daisy May."

Derpy looked over her shoulder. Her eyebrows raised. She burst into a smile. "You're back! Finally! Did they get the letter?!"

The messenger nodded reluctantly. "Yes. But...but General. Something very, very bad has happened. The New Equestrian Army...doesn't really exist any more. There was a battle. We lost. We really, really, really lost. I'm sorry, General. The Princess is still alive, I think, but right now...we're it. It's just us. I've got three letters here for you. Two from Celestia. And one from your daughter."

Derpy froze. The world froze.
> XXV. Southwest of Manehattan. May, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XXV. Southwest of Manehattan. May, 1252.

A light rain fell unbidden by any pegasus. It pinged and popped off the tightly stretched tarps of the veterans, and pooled in the baggy depressions in the loosely erected tents of the recruits. The Equestrian Army of Free Ponies stood assembled in the clearing near the officers' camp: the veterans in the front, the recruits in the back. On a hastily built podium, their general stood in her shining armor, her eyes shut, her body gently swaying. The soldiers had heard there was to be an address. They had heard, too, that there had been a disaster of some sort. They had waited nervously for the General to come out of her tent. They had watched her expression for any sign of what was to come. And now they waited, ears pricked and eyes forward--waiting for her to open her mouth and reforge their souls again with her blistering voice.



On stage, Derpy breathed deeply. She had given many speeches. Speeches in celebration. Speeches in mourning. Speeches to inspire hope. Speeches to inspire bravery. Speeches to inspire rage. Speeches to inspire restraint. Many, many speeches. This was just one more.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she stepped forward to the podium. She began to lower her mouth to the microphone, then stopped. She hated the microphone. Davenport had been encouraging her to use it--a sign of the army's prosperity--but it was so restrictive. With a hoof she pointed at a unicorn in the front row. Lyra looked left and right, then pointed at herself with her own hoof. Derpy nodded.

Lyra grinned. She didn't always care for army life, but she certainly loved special attention--and as a Ponyville veteran, she got her share. "One Full House Special, coming up," she said proudly, just loudly enough for Derpy to hear.  Lyra's horn began to glow, and a pale teal aura shimmered around Derpy. The general nodded again, in curt appreciation. She then cleared her head, and spoke.



"Soldiers of the Equestrian Army of Free Ponies," she began, her voice spreading across the camp. It was somber--grave, almost. "I come before you amidst the greatest crisis our army has faced. I come before you amidst the greatest disaster our nation has faced. I come before you with our lives and our livelihoods--our homes and our homeland--hanging only by a fraying strand of rope."

"At dawn ten days ago, the New Equestrian Army, under the joint command of our beloved princesses Celestia and Luna, tracked down and engaged an army of invaders. The Equestrian army fought valiantly, and fought to the last pony. Celestia herself fought in the line of battle. But by noon ten days ago, the New Equestrian Army ceased to exist as a viable fighting force. There is no pony army west of Canterlot."

"The details of the battle are unknown. We do not know how many brave ponies died, nor what the losses of the gryphons were. We do not know how the gryphons will follow up on this battle, nor do we know what Celestia's plan is at the moment. We do not know what this means for the ponies who live in the Westmarch. We know precious little."

"But we do know that our Princesses still live. And we know that is a direct consequence of the fact that the Elements of Harmony--the force of holy magic that imprisoned the ancient demon Discord and destroyed the regal corruptor Night Mare Moon--reformed and intervened in the battle."

"And we know that the royal war for Equestria will continue. We know that as long as Celestia lives, she will fight. We know that the fertile towns and farmsteads of Equestria will provide the Princess with an ever-swelling list of reenforcements, as they have throughout the war and as they always shall. And we now know that the Elements of Harmony, our protectors through so many points of desperate crisis in the past, are again watching over Equestria."

"But none of that removes a single feather's weight from the burden we now carry, nor does it remove a single spearhead from the army of armies that is now united against us. We are now the only army facing the combined might of the Kingdom of Gryphonia. We--a band of farmers and merchants--now stand against a hundred thousand lions and gryphons. In every cardinal direction marches a gryphon army outnumbering us. Beyond each of those marches another. And they now have no target--no driving purpose--but the annihilation of Equestria in general and this army in particular."

"Their fires are lit. Their swords are sharpened. And we are in the greatest danger we have ever faced. Victory is impossible."

She paused.

"But we ourselves are impossible." She felt a white-hot energy rising within her. She began to pace. 

"Farmers cannot become soldiers. That is impossible. A band of ponies sworn to defend their homes cannot stand against invaders. That is impossible. A mob cannot become an army. That is impossible. An army cannot survive a winter with neither food nor shelter. That, too, is impossible! Ponies cannot rout gryphons in open warfare, no, that is impossible. A band of raiders cannot inspire an entire nation. Yes! That is impossible! A cross-eyed mailmare cannot become the general of an army. That is impossible!  Again and again we have met the impossible, and we have defeated it again, and again, and again, because what is impossible for a pony to do is merely what we have not yet done!"

By the end she was shouting with a wild energy, every agonizingly-planned word leaving her lips precisely as she intended, her voice shaking with passion and flooding her body with a nearly sexual sense of control.

"We! We, the ponies! We the soldiers, we the saviors! We who have stood to fight again and again. We who have dared fate to stop us; we who dare the Gryphon King to kill us! To stop us who have dared. To kill us who will dare. And we have found that every dare--every single act of defiance--has exposed a fate that may be bent by courage, and has humbled an enemy that may be scattered by courage. Fate and the enemy--both are powerless against courage. And ponies of this army: we are courage. We are unbreakable. All Equestria has faced cruelty...and we are those of Equestria who have stood firm. And we are those of Equestria who will always stand firm."

"On our rain-kissed farmlands, amidst the festivals of harvest, we were those who heard the profane drums of invasion--and who said, 'no, we will rise, and we will fight.'"

She paused.

"In the wind-swept winter, amidst starvation and disease, we were those who felt our very bodies failing us--and who said, 'no, we will live, and we will fight.'"

She paused, longer than before.

"Now, in the gentle spring, amidst news of disaster, we are those who see the world collapsing around us--and who say, "no, we will stand, and we will fight."

"We will fight. We, indeed, will fight. We will fight again, and again, and again. We will fight and we will not stop. We will fight and we will win--because a single defeat will mean the death of Equestria. We will fight to the death--but not to our death. To theirs."

"Ponies, we face defeat. Not our defeat, but the defeat of all ponies. We face enslavement. Not our enslavement, but the enslavement of all ponies. We face death. Not our death, but the death of all ponies. Truly we face the end: the last, true and final end, the end of freedom and the end of ponykind. But we are the ponies who can--and who will--carry ponykind past that end and instead to its next beginning."

She paused again.

"I have here with me a letter from Princess Celestia herself, issued and signed before the battle in which her army was scattered. I will not read it now; it will be posted in your camps. It declares that as of the moment of signing, our army is to be reorganized and renamed the Army of Northern Equestria, and given a full royal commission. Ponies, until now we have fought for the Princesses. We now fight with the Princesses. Our officers are no longer representatives of our army but of the Princesses themselves. Our soldiers will now swear an oath not to our army but to the Princesses themselves. And we fight not only to protect our homes, but for the Princesses themselves."

"We are no longer merely the Equestrian Army of Free Ponies. We are now Equestria itself. We ponies have long brought the winds of Equestria. We must now bring a tornado to scatter and demolish the enemy armies. We ponies have long brought the rains of Equestria. We must now bring a torrent to wash away the blood of the oppressor and innocent alike. We ponies have long tended the hearthfires of Equestria. We must now stoke a wildfire to consume the overgrowth that chokes us all. We ponies are Equestria. And Equestria must fight."

"Think back to your foalhood books. The history of Equestria is a history of myth and magic: of musclebound stallions and glamorous mares wielding inherited magic, and fighting monsters ugly and menacing. Today we face a threat far more dangerous than the ugliest troll. And though no magical heroes have yet come to save us...heroes were never the true strength of Equestria. The strength of Equestria has always been the quiet courage of the farmpony. The strength of Equestria has always been the simple dedication of the housepony. The strength of Equestria has always been the modest pride of the merchantpony. The strength of Equestria has always been us ponies. And now, banding together in a brotherhood that grows daily, we ponies shall be our own heroes. You are Equestria. We are Equestria And Equestria will fight."

"We will fight. And we will fight with a wild fury. The days of retreat have passed. The possibility of cowardice has vanished. Death licks his lips, for he knows either he will have them or he will have us. So will meet the gryphons wherever they stand. We will meet them and we will fight them, and we will fight them with an unleashed and terrifying fury. We will fight them and we will scatter them again and again. We will shatter them. For we must. Victory and death lay before us--one or the other. And ponies, we must choose victory."

She breathed deeply, and addressed them again, as shockingly clear and confident as if it were the first time they had heard her.

"Ponies! Now we embark on the campaign that will end this war. Now we embark on the campaign that will free Equestria. Follow me. I have led you through terror. I have led you through pain. I have led you through hunger and cold and exhaustion. I have led you through this war. I will lead you through terror like you've never known. I will lead you through exhaustion like you've never felt. And I will lead you through this war. And together we will fight on. We will fight on through the scarred fields of Equestria. We will fight on through the broken buildings of Manehattan. We will fight on through the forests and through the hills. Through the swamps. Through the farms. And across the rivers and through the towering mountains and splendid valleys of Gryphonia itself! And we will fight on, through their cities, through their armies, we will fight on to the feet of the Gryphon King himself! And we shall dictate to him a peace that will last an eternity!"

She let the last words hang. She felt the last words resonate through the crowd, blending with each that had come before it. She felt their roller-coaster of emotions come to a spiking climax. And then she let go of the energy, and she fell back, exhausted, onto the stool provided for her. She closed her eyes. She barely heard the cheers.



---



Derpy stared at the maps. She stared at the red and blue boxes, and the red and blue lines, at the flags and diamonds and squares and elevation lines and rivers and everything else. She stared at the maps, begging them to show her something new. She stared at the maps, begging herself to find the opportunities she had missed and the threats she had overlooked. Five times she had come up with a plan for victory. Five times it had unraveled before she had put quill to paper. And it had been half an hour since she had noticed anything new--any possibility for her army or for the gryphons'--in the maps.

She heard familiar hoofsteps--careful but weighty--coming up to her tent. "Come on in, Mac," she said, without looking up. Big Macintosh came in.

He didn't bother with pleasantries. He didn't bother with hesitation. He spoke immediately and plainly: "Derpy. About your speech."

She looked up sharply. "Did they like it?" Her eyes betrayed a childlike hope.

"Yes, but--" She sighed happily and looked back at the maps as he spoke. "--but that ain't why I'm here. Do you know what you just said to 'em all?"

She picked up a little stick with her teeth, and pushed a small rock across the map. "Yes."

"Tell me, then," he said gently. "Tell me what you said."

"I told them we're all going to die unless I am perfect and unless they fight better than any army ever has in history." She narrowed her eyes, shook her head, then dragged the rock back to where it had been. "We're surrounded and outnumbered by better troops and there's no hope of reenforcement anytime soon."

"No, you told--wait, what? That was what you was tryin' to tell 'em?" He took a step back. He had been planning on telling Derpy that she had been a mite reckless in her portrayal. He was not expecting her claim to be that she had been mildly optimistic.

"Yes. It is exactly what I told them and exactly what I wanted to tell them. We are most likely all going to die. Perhaps we will not. I suppose that strictly speaking I told them we wouldn't die, but they know me well enough to know what I meant. Every word I said could be true. But first I have to be perfect. Then they'll have to make those words true. And if they don't make them true then they won't be true. And they know that."

Big Mac stepped forward. "Derpy, I know we're in a bucket o' trouble, but--but you're sayin' we're gonna take on every gryphon there is right now."

"We are." She spoke calmly, sttill focusing on her map.

"We can't do that. We probably can't even take on one little piece of 'em."

"Probably not, no." She picked up a quill and began to write a note on a scribbled-up roll of paper.

"Then why are--what the hay are you doin'?" he shouted in exasperation.

Derpy thought a bit, then looked at him. "Mac, they fear me but they don't respect me."

"So you're gonna get the army's respect by killin' em?! Are you buckin' serious!?" He backed away, looking wildly around the tent.

"Huh?" Derpy put a hoof to her mouth, then smiled. "No, Mac. I meant the gryphons. Look here. No, I'm serious, come here. Mac. Come here and look at this."

Mac stopped. He looked confused, angry, uneasy, and not a little embarrassed.

"Oh, for--Mac, I know you, I'm not gonna make you read anything to me. It's a map. Take a look. You'll understand."

He walked over beside her, then looked down at the maps. "They're maps, Derpy. They look like maps."

She looked up at him and smiled, her crossed eyes sparkling. "I know they're maps, Mac. The blue is us. The red is them."

"What's the lines?"

"Don't worry about it. Just look at the boxes."

"There's a lot more reds than there are blues," he said. "I ain't dumb, Derpy, I know there's more of 'em than there are of us. That was kinda my point, in a way."

"But look, Mac," she said, still smiling at him. "No one collection of boxes is any bigger than ours."

"Yeah, but there's a lot of 'em. Seven of 'em. And they're all over the place."

"Exactly. They're afraid of me. They're trying to make sure they fight me and beat me as soon as possible."

"I'm still not seein' why we're gonna fight all of 'em."

"Because, Mac, they don't respect me. No, no, don't say it, it isn't like that." She preemptively waved away the suggestion with a hoof, then smiled again. "Look. No army is much bigger than ours. They think any of 'em can beat me in a straight fight. If they respected me they'd combine into one or two armies and ensure they wouldn't lose instead of ensuring that I wouldn't escape."

"But they probably could beat us in a straight fight. Our soldiers ain't much, Derpy."

She pulled her head back and glared. "Stop being contrary, Mac, it's not remotely attractive. Now look." She softened her expression. "We can't possibly beat them if they combine up. We can't escape without fighting. And we've got so many recruits--and we'll have to stop to bring in so many more--that they'll probably be able to overtake us even if they're combined. So that means we've got to fight. So if I'm perfect we beat them once. And then we've got to fight again. So if I'm perfect we beat them again. Then they start to respect me. And they start to combine their armies. And now we know we can beat a little army, so we fight as many as we can before they combine. And then...then I don't know what. But it's a much different war then."

"But why fight 'em all? Why not just fight some and retreat like we've been doin'? We know the land better'n they do; you can't tell me they'll move faster'n we will. And heck, how did they all even get this close? We haven't moved in nearly a week. Why didn't we just get out?"

"Because we have to fight them, Mac. If they combine we can't beat them. And we have to beat them. And now that they're close to us, they can't get any closer to each other without us getting in the way. And they can't escape us just like we can't escape them. We can break 'em apart piece by piece. If...if I'm perfect."

Big Mac thought. Then, carefully, he began to speak again. "Derpy, I...this all relies on a lot of things that might not be true. We might not even be able to beat one of their armies. Each of those 'little armies' is as big as us, and it's all real soldiers."

Derpy smiled. "We will if I'm perfect."

"But...you might not be..." He trailed off.

She stood up, and walked towards him, smiling gently. "Tell me I'm perfect, Mac."

He swallowed. He knew what was coming.

She spoke in a near whisper as she approached him. She gently shook her head, sending ripples through her mane. "Tell me I'm perfect, Mac. I need you to."

"Derpy, I--"

"We're surrounded, Mac. They've caught up with us. Our only hope is to fight over and over again. And that means I have to be perfect." She stroked his neck with a hoof. "So tell me I'm perfect. Tell me I can do it."

"We can't do it, Derpy. We can't possibly--"

"Shh. That's treasonous talk, Major." She smiled. "Your general hereby commands you in the name of the Princess to tell her that she's perfect."

"Derpy, you're just a mare. You're a good mare but--"

"--I'm a perfect one. I have to be." She nuzzled his chest. "Do you love me?"

"...Yep. I do. But--"

"--then tell me I'm perfect."

"I can't."

"Yeah you can." She nuzzled up his neck, then whispered in his ear. "You have to. You have to. Tell me now. Tell me I'm perfect."

"Derpy, you know I don't like when you do this. We've talked about this. You can't just use me as some sort'a--"

"--so tell me I'm perfect and maybe I'll stop."

The room was almost silent--almost.

"...you're perfect. Now stop."

"No."

"Derpy, stop. I said it like you wanted. Now stop it."

"Not...a...chance..."



---



Derpy sat at her desk. She knew she should feel guilty for manipulating Mac. She knew she should feel guilty for making him say and do things he didn't want to say and do. But she needed to hear those things. And god, she needed to feel those things. And hadn't he volunteered to be the one to say them? To make her feel them? And sure, he complained. But he kept giving in. And he kept forgiving her. Maybe he didn't really mind. Maybe he secretly liked being told to do things he thought were wrong--being told to do things Granny Smith wouldn't approve of. Like...well, like lying, for one. And he did them, didn't he? Big Macintosh, the pillar of righteousness, the pony who moved for nopony--he moved for her now. And Mac didn't move unless he wanted to, right? ...but she still felt like she should be guilty about it. And worse, she still didn't feel guilty at all.

She sighed, then put him out of her mind. She looked at the map again, then at the envelopes on the table. One from Celestia, that had contained her commission as a General in the service of the Crown. Another from Celestia, written hours before the battle. And one from her daughter. She carefully pulled it back out of its envelope, then opened it and set it before her. And she read it again, though by now she had memorized every hand-scrawled word.



Dear Momy,

Hello Momy! This is Your litle Muffin Dinky. Spike said the Princes sent him a Leter saying that she Knew where you Are! So I am Writing you a Leter now, and Spike says He wil give it to the Princes and she wil Give it to You! 

Thigns are OK here. Not as god as they were when We were Together. I stil miss You. But there is Fod again and nobody is Mean or Stealing it now. Auntie Carrot Top has ben taking god Care of us foals sinse Auntie Cheerilee got sick and died. She is kind of leading All of Us now that Cheerilee is ded and the Mayor died when the Robers came for our fod. And she is doing a god job. We have fod and we have builded Homes and we have a litle Farm. We call it New Ponyvile which I think is a sily name becase we are going back to the old one after the war but they call it that anyway.  We had a big Fight with the People who owned the land earlier but they let us have sum Land anyway. Carrot Top says it is becase they are Nice but I think it is becase Bery Punch said we wuld Hurt them if they did not give us sum Land for a Farm. But that is OK becase she was just Protecting us.

I hear you are Protecting all of us. I think that is Realy Realy Realy God of you. I cant wait for you to beat all of the Grifons and come hom so we can all say Thank You and then we are Together again and you can call me Muffin and hug me again and we can have som god fod together.

I love you Momy.

Your Dinky



Derpy read the letter, again and again and again. And then she stood, and she picked up her old mail bag. In it was each of the thirty letters she had written to Dinky, every one of her paintings, each of the drafts of each of her speeches, her letter of commission from Celestia, and the cape she had worn as Captain of the Ponyville Militia.

She closed the bag, tightened the straps, then tossed it over her shoulder as she had done countless times before. And she left her tent, and found Skywishes waiting outside as instructed.

Derpy saluted. "It's a refugee camp in the Southmarch. They have some buildings and a bit of farmland they took for their camp. They've named it New Ponyville. Getting past the gryphon scouts should be harder than finding the camp."

Skywishes returned the salute. "I haven't met a gryphon yet who could catch me. And I'm not about to let any of 'em find out if they can."

Derpy handed the bag to the scout-turned-courier, and saluted again. Skywishes put the bag on--almost as comfortably as Derpy had done. She returned the salute again, then turned, leapt into the air, and took off into the dusk sky.

Derpy watched the bag as it grew smaller, then blended into the pony's fur, then disappeared with the pony into the clouds.

And she began to cry. Yes. She might die. But with any luck, someday her daughter might know why she lived.

She stood crying for some time. Then she wiped her face, and went back to her tent. The first five plans she had written up weren't going to work. Perhaps the sixth would.
> XXVI. Temple of Harmony, Equestria. May, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Temple of Harmony, Equestria. May, 1252.

The warm, moist air in the little stone building swirled with floral fragrances. The zebra stood, head erect, all four hooves planted on the dirt floor. Before him Celestia sat, her manner dignified beyond her situation. Between the two, a small jeweled kettle rested on a little mat, boiling without flame.

Celestia spoke. Her eyes fluttered shut. "You honor me with your presence, Lord Bakora. I regret I cannot make myself easy for ambassadors to find, but admire your diligence."

He bowed. It was a crisp, short bow, refined over a lifetime and executed with unerring precision. "No distance is too great to travel, if it is to give the reverent greetings of the Sublime Council of the Zebra Tribes to one so deserving." He spoke excellently, with only the slightest hint of a Zebra accent. Celestia suspected even that trace of imperfection was deliberate.

She smiled blandly in return. "Your Excellency, you must be exhausted. We needn't discuss matters of state this afternoon. I would be honored if you would rest here a while--and perhaps accept an invitation to take dinner with me--allowing us to discuss your matters later, with the sort of attention they undoubtedly deserve."

He did not return the smile. "I extend the sincerest apologies of the Sublime Council to Your Royal Highness. I am afraid that they have declared I would seek you and discuss a matter of the greatest importance, and that I would not rest until the matter has been resolved."

Celestia nodded, still smiling gently. "Of course, Your Excellency. Your dedication is exemplary." Her horn glowed gently, and without shifting her attention, she floated the kettle over to a table, poured the liquid into two cups, set the kettle down, then floated a cup in front of her and a cup in front of the zebra ambassador. "A tisane of rose hip and hibiscus, Your Excellency, both of which were grown on the temple grounds. Surely it would not be the wishes of the Sublime Council to refuse such a minor hospitality."

"I thank you," he said. He then bowed slightly, and brought the cup to his lips. Celestia took note--she had dealt with many zebras and many ambassadors over the centuries, and knew Lord Bakora well. Today the ambassador didn't even attempt to refuse the offer, nor did he reiterate the importance of his request before accepting the gift. He was obviously far more tired than he appeared to be. To her advantage, that meant he wouldn't be as sharp as usual. To her disadvantage, that also meant that he probably wasn't lying about bearing a matter of enormous national concern. She waited for him to finish his drink. It didn't take long.

"Now," she said as he set his cup down, "I am sure you have much to discuss. Please, tell me the concerns of the Sublime Council so that I might remedy or reassure." 

He bowed again. "The Sublime Council is outraged by your misguided and bloodthirsty acts in our sacred lands." He spoke as calmly as ever.

"You know very well that our divine influence does not extend to the lands of Punda-Milia." She raised her cup to her lips, and immediately felt a tinge of irritation. The tea was slightly too strong. Hmph. Sloppy of me. The war must be taking its toll.

"I am referring to the agent you have unleashed in our territory. This is an outrageously disproportionate act."

Celestia raised an eyebrow. "Disproportionate, ambassador? And tell me, then, why I should have done any less."

"Are you defending this slaughter?" His voice had a razor's edge to it.

Celestia calmly sipped her tea again. "No. I am inviting your Council to defend itself."

"This--this is outrageous! Our contacts with the Kingdom of Gryphonia have been purely cultural! What could possibly have led you to authorize something like this?"

Celestia laughed gently. "To be honest, I have no idea what you're talking about, Your Excellency. None whatsoever. I wasn't even aware you had 'cultural contacts' with the Gryphon King during this war, though I do thank you for finally deciding to tell me you've been working with our enemy--however inadvertant your decision was. As for your allegations, I haven't issued a directive related to your homeland since our open-ports agreement years ago."

The ambassador sneered. "I am a zebra, Your Royal Highness, not one of your ponies. Professions of ignorance may help you pull the strings of your trusting subjects, but those who live beyond Equestria are not your puppets." 

"Temper, dear." She sipped her tea, her eyes closed. "What makes you think I have anything to do with your problem?"

"As the problem is a pony, we find that the burden is on you to convince me you aren't responsible."

"Hm, yes. I'm afraid that would be difficult to do, Your Excellency, as you haven't even told me what it is I'm meant to have ordered."

"The problem is that a pony has killed hundreds of our subjects, cutting a seemingly arbitrary swath of murder through our lands."

"If your story is true, then I apologize for the criminal pony that has taken it upon him or herself to go to your lands. But many thousands of my subjects have been killed--and are being killed--by a criminal invasion that threatens my throne and my country. I am afraid I cannot spare any resources to help you apprehend one criminal. Do you have no soldiers of your own? "

"Do not toy with me! This is no criminal; she has cast dozens of zebras aside in a blink of an eye! Such magic power has only been demonstrated by you and your...your special students."

Celestia shrugged. "I rule over many ponies. I know nothing of this one."

He laughed derisively. "Come now, are we to believe the Pony Queen had such a weapon in her lands and did not incorporate it into her unnatural machine?"

Celestia stood up immediately, a flare of rage in her eyes. "Watch yourself, ambassador; 'cultural contacts' or not, there is no reason to be repeating Gryphonic propaganda in my presence. I am Princess Celestia of Equestria, and you will refer to me as such. I am a fair, responsible, and equitable ruler of my ponies, and you will treat me as such. And, for that matter, our intrinsic nature is not mechanical and is not unnatural, and I will not apologize for ponykind's divine gifts."

The ambassador had been backing away nervously as he looked for an opporunity to interject and apologize. He recognized the danger in her tone of voice. He was exhausted and emotional, and he knew that deliberate line-crossing was generally dismissed as part of the game with a consummate statespony like her, but regardless he knew that sparking a personal grudge with an immortal sovereign was one of the stupidest things he could do as a diplomat. Half of Equestria's foreign policy relied on the longevity of the Princesses: an affront to the Sublime Council of the Zebra Tribes might be forgotten with the election of new tribal heads, while an affront to Celestia or Luna might be remembered eternally and repaid many times over.

But he found no opening, and she continued her verbal assault, following him as he backed away. "You are making a direct attack on me and on my subjects, and are casting aside every pretense of diplomatic objectivity to do so. Cast aside for the moment whatever gryphon poisons you have swallowed, remember your position as a diplomatic agent of a neutral state, and look at my own position. If I had such an asset in my employ, do you honestly believe I would send it halfway across a continent simply to commit arbitrary murder against zebras who have done me no wrong? Do you honestly believe that as the Gryphonic talons consume and defile the greater part of my lands, I would decide to commit acts of war against a distant friend? Did you think for a minute about what you were suggesting before you decided to seek me out to suggest it? Ambassador, this conversation nears a close. If your aim is war and wished only to establish a false cover for an opportunistic invasion, then nothing we say here matters and you may leave. If you wish to establish whether I was responsible for your problem pony, then you have your answer and you may leave. If you wished only to infuriate an already humiliated sovereign, then you have succeeded and you may leave."

"--I apologize, Your Royal Highness. I apologize. Please forgive me. I apologize truthfully and completely. I spoke from the weakness of my body and the exhaustion of my mind. I did not speak for the Sublime Council, and they would surely have my head if they knew I had committed such an offense in their name."

She raised a single eyebrow, but the rest of her expression remained unchanged.

He spoke hurriedly. He knew he wouldn't have long to change her mind. "You must understand; you are renowned for your magical ability, and your mentorship of future servants of the state is famed throughout the world. Furthermore, we understand you are at war, and that in war, innocuous communications may be honestly misinterpreted. When we find a pony with astounding magical ability wreaking havoc in our lands--speaking your name all the while--it is not out of the question to suspect there may be a link

There was a pause. Celestia spoke with a too-perfect calmness that betrayed a rising panic.

"She...she spoke my name?"

"Few zebras speak your language, but many survivors of her rampages distinctly recall the pony making inquiries involving your name before she began to kill. We assumed she was making some sort of demand."

"How...if I might ask, how does she kill?" Celestia's expression remained tranquil. She blinked deliberately, focusing all her sudden tension in a twitch of her eyelids.

The zebra leaned forward a few inches. "It's always unpredictable. She crushes them. She explodes them. She turns their bodies into other things. She pulls them apart like toy dolls. She tosses them into things. She sets them on fire or rains acid on them. Sometimes they just disappear. She acts normally, but once she begins to kill, she destroys everything that gets in her way. We can't use magic against her. We can't even approach her. Does this sound familiar, perhaps?"

"What does she look like?" Celestia's heart pounded despite her attempts to slow it.

"Lavender. Violet and white mane. A small hat. Do you know her?"

"Her cutie mark, ambassador. What does it look like?"

"Our eyewitnesses were more concerned with fleeing for their lives than taking fashion notes. Your Royal Highness, if I might be so bold, you seem rather interested in this pony, considering that it's an inconsequential criminal you have no links to. Perhaps an asset of yours has gone missing recently?"

"No...no, nothing of the sort...no," she said. She ran her tongue across her teeth. Her mouth was nearly dry. "But...Your Excellency...is there anything else you know about her? Anything at all?"

"Your Royal Highness, it certainly does sound as if you have knowledge of this pony. Your excuse, perhaps, will be an overzealous subordinate? A tragic miscommunication between yourself and your agent that resulted in an 'entirely accidental' retributory act against our people...which you tell me of with the implicit understanding that our good behavior will result in no such further accidents?"

Celestia shook her head sharply. "I told you, nothing like that. Ambassador, I promise you I am not playing games. If this pony is who I think she is, she is not affiliated with Canterlot nor does she have its interests in mind. Indeed, she is a threat to far, far more than you realize. I will explain everything I know, but, ambassador, for me to do that I am going to need some information."

"I've told you all I know, Your Royal Highness."

"I don't mean that kind of information--not about this pony. No. I mean a different kind of information. I am going to need the entirety of your recent cultural communications with the Kingdom of Gryphonia. Every word of every message, sent and received."

He pulled his head back sharply. "We are under no obligation to share diplomatic correspondance with anyone, and certainly not to nations with whom our correspondants are at war. We are a neutral state, Your Royal Highness, not a pony dependency."

She shook her head again. "It isn't a matter of diplomatic obligation, ambassador. It is a matter of literally unlimited danger to your homeland, to myself, and to the rest of the world."

"So...this is blackmail, then? You have unleashed some demon to force us to reveal our diplomatic dealings with Gryphonia?"

Celestia sighed, then her horn began to glow. An envelope floated off her table and in front of the zebra. "Ambassador, I did not wish to reveal my knowledge of Gryphonic plots to those I cannot trust, but the information I have asked for is of importance you cannot yet understand. Write a request to your Sublime Council to release those correspondances to me. Include this letter. I will send it when you are ready."

He looked over the document, then up at her. "I don't understand, Your Royal Highness. This is just some gryphon correspondance about some troop orders and a vague assassination plot. This doesn't say anything about anything."

"Your Council is wise. They will compare this letter with what they have provided the gryphons. If my guess regarding your 'demon' is correct, they will understand and provide the information I require. If my guess is incorrect, they will not. And once I have my information, I will fully explain to both you and your Council what has happened."

"This is quite suspicious, Your Royal Highness. Why not simply explain now?"

"Your Council has its secrets, ambassador. We have ours. We will reveal all that is necessary, but only when convinced it is necessary to do so. I trust your Council will do the same."

He watched her expression for few seconds, then nodded. "I will relay your request to the Sublime Council, if there is no further need of me. But I must warn you that I was sent because the Council is determined to find a resolution to this problem. If they do not believe these somewhat...evasive denials, then they may find a non-diplomatic resolution is in order."

Celestia finished her cup of tea and set it down before she replied. "Understood. You may take your leave at your pleasure, Your Excellency, though your company is always welcome. I anxiously await their reply."

The ambassador rose, bowed, walked backwards five paces, then turned and left.

Celestia sat alone. She bit the inside of her lip as she thought. She only stopped when she tasted blood.



----



Twilight Sparkle lay in her bed, the sweat-stained white sheets pulled up to her elbows. Her head ached. Her body ached. Her horn especially ached. And, as always, she felt exhausted. In front of her face, she floated an old and massive book, which she flipped slowly through. She could barely understand the archaic language and byzantine structure, and she found her eyes would defocus for pages at a time, but she didn't care. She was reading again, and she was doing magic again. And though her horn hurt, levitating the book for hours on end seemed almost as if it relieved some sort of pressure.

"Is it interesting?" a voice said.

In her surprise Twilight sent the book flying across the room. It clattered against the wall and fell onto an unused bucket. She twisted her neck around, looking behind her for the sudden intruder, then finally saw that Princess Celestia was sitting at the foot of her bed.

"A simple 'no' would have sufficed, dear, though honestly I could have guessed that a late-classical treatise on the history of palatial and religious architecture wasn't going to be terribly thrilling. It wasn't even that interesting at the time."

"P-Princess," Twilight sputtered, "I didn't--no, it was really--I mean I wasn't expecting--it was--you were--it was good? How. Um. How long have you been there?"

"Perhaps ten minutes. I didn't mean to be so long, but I found watching you read to be unexpectedly soothing. I hope you don't consider it an intrusion, but it's so rare these days to see a pony at peace."

"I...thanks? Um. Why are you here? Um, Princess?"

"Something has come up. A few things, rather. And while I understand you have been in desperate need of some peace and quiet, I'm afraid the time has come for you to begin engaging the world again."

Twilight moaned softly. "The Elements? But...oh, Princess. I can't do it again. I think the last time nearly killed me."

"That is slightly dramatic, Twilight. You were in no danger. It was simply not something your mind was expecting."

Twilight pulled her pillow over her eyes. "Ugh. Why me?"

"Because you are the element of Magic."

"Why do I have to be that? The other girls have been running around this place for days. I still feel like I've just been sat on by an Ursa Major. Magic doesn't even make sense as an Element. This is dumb. We're all dumb. Let me sleep."

Celestia effortlessly sent the pillow flying. Twilight covered her eyes with a foreleg. "Twilight, your magical ability is astounding. The other five ponies were chosen by the Elements because their minds are well suited to embrace their cardinal virtues and to open their controlled gates to the Flow. You were chosen because your mind is well suited to creating connections to ponies, and to synthesizing and harnessing the torrents of unbound magic that course through those connections when the Elements are active."

"I. Know. That. That's the problem. I don't wanna do that again. It hurts."

"Twilight, it hurt because you weren't prepared for it. Did it hurt after the first two times?"

"...no. But this time was bigger."

"The Elements are infinite in their potential. They always have been."

There was silence.

"Princess?"

"Yes, Twilight?"

"Do I really have to get out of bed?"

"Yes, Twilight."

"Okay."

The purple unicorn climbed out of her tangled mess of sheets, wincing all the while. She swung her feet over the side of the bed, popped down to the ground, shivered, and then looked up at the Princess.

"I'm still sore," she said reproachfully.

"I didn't think getting out of bed would fix that, dear."

"Yeah...I guess I didn't either," she admitted. "Are we going to go somewhere now?"

Celestia smiled gently, and began to walk towards the door. Twilight followed on unsteady legs. 

"Yes," Celestia said, looking over her shoulder. "Your friends would like to see you again."



---



Twilight Sparkle walked alone through the dusky courtyard. Vines grew on and through the crumbling walls, and the grasses were tall and unkempt. Above, enormous trees blocked the sky; all around, torches flickered. It was impossible to tell whether it was night or day. A thousand unfamiliar sounds buzzed and whistled and crackled; all around the temple, nature in all its untamed virility was free to exist.

She heard a rustling noise from a dense patch of ragged shrubbery to her side. Her ears pricked up, and she turned to face it. The noise came again, and she saw a branch move. She walked slowly towards the bush.

Then, suddenly, she felt a heavy weight crashing into her side. She hit the ground hard, and felt the air rush out of her lungs. She tried to breathe in. She couldn't; the wind was knocked out of her. In a panic she tried to look at her attacker, but her eyes wouldn't focus. She felt a hoof grab at her face roughly and pull her head to face...something. To face a pony. To face a pink pony. To face Pinkie Pie.

"OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH YOU'RE FINALLY UP TWILIGHT WE MISSED YOU IT'S BEEN AGES AND AGES AND AGES!"

Twilight winced, and tried to sit up. She couldn't; Pinkie Pie was sitting square on her chest. She tried to ask Pinkie to get off. She couldn't; with the weight of the pony on her ribcage she could hardly breathe. She pushed at Pinkie with her foreleg. Pinkie ignored it.

"GIRLS! SHE'S HERE! C'MON OUT!"

Applejack slowly and haltingly emerged from the bush Twilight had seen rustling, and Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash flitted down from unmanaged, bushy treetops. Rarity walked out from behind the tree Fluttershy had perched in. Each wore a New Equestrian Army uniform, clean and bright and crisp.

"Twilight," Pinkie laughed, "get up and say hi to us! I know you're a real sleepyhead nowadays but it's not naptime yet!"

With a choked grunt, Twilight struggled in vain to lift the pink pony off her chest. Pinkie chuckled and shook her head.

"Oh, Twilight, I didn't say I wanted you to get me up. Here. Let Auntie Pinkie help you out." Using a single rear hoof, Pinkie leapt off Twilight, knocking the wind out of the unicorn for a second time. She then jammed her head under Twilight's neck, and with a shoveling motion popped her into a standing position. Twilight wobbled and coughed.

"Man," Applejack said, "you don't look so hot. Maybe the Princess was right about you needin' all that rest."

"...nng. I'm fine, girls," Twilight grunted. "I just had Pinkie on my--"

"--yep! You had me on the case--the mystery of the missing mare. Where did Twilight go? No worries. Pinkie found her! Right where the Princess said she'd be, ten minutes ago. Case: closed!"

Twilight Sparkle looked skeptically at Pinkie Pie. She was a giddy pink ball of happiness in a rumpled but clean uniform, her long, straight hair falling in gentle, shining waves along her neck.

"Applejack," Twilight said slowly, "is Pinkie still having issues...you know...coping?"

"Well," the farmpony replied, "Can't say I rightly know. We ain't seen anything much to cope with while we been holed up in this pile o' rocks."

"Rainbow Dash," Twilight said in the same tone of voice. "Is Applejack still refusing to tell anypony anything?"

Rainbow Dash shrugged. "I dunno. Can't say I've spoken much with her. Not a whole lot to talk about, you know? I've been pretty busy trying to coordinate the efforts to track down all the cavalry that fled the battle. We've tracked down a couple thousand already, but that's all the big groups of 'em. I'm thinking that tracking down individual stragglers might not be worth the time. There are a heck of a lot of 'em, but it might be easier to let 'em come to us."

Twilight licked her lips. She found they were cracked and chapped. "Rarity, is Rainbow Dash still refusing to be friends with anypony?"

"Well, dear, I have to say...I'm not entirely certain. I've been quite busy as well. You know how it is; when you can feed ten mouths a hundred show up, and when you can feed a hundred mouths a thousand show up. Though, I can say that on the few occasions I've had to talk with her, she's certainly seemed polite enough...er, you know. For Rainbow Dash."

Twilight glanced around the yard in a panic. Her eyes fell on a familiar demure yellow face.

"Fluttershy! Oh, it's good to see you. Is Rar--no, I can see the pattern here." She shook her head gently. "I'll just go to the source. Are you still too afraid to fight?"

"No. I don't think so," she replied, her voice thoughtful. "I haven't had to yet. But...I don't want to run away this time."

"Okay, good. Is Rarity still being...er...would you describe Rarity as being, you know...cruel? Like, spitefully opposed to helping anypony else?"

"...um, no. No, I don't think so. She doesn't seem cruel to me. But maybe I'm not very good at noticing things like that."

"Good enough. Is Rainbow Dash still afraid to be friends with ponies?"

"Well...she's really busy. We're all really busy. But she's still my friend. At least I think she's my friend.  I mean...I always thought she was my friend. Hm." Fluttershy looked at the ground, then at Rainbow Dash. "Um, if you don't mind my asking...are we still friends?"

"Uh...yeah? Of course we are. That's kind of a dumb question, Fluttershy."

"Oh! I thought we were! But then Twilight said maybe we weren't and I got nervous. Thank you." She turned to face Twilight Sparkle. "No. We're still friends."

Twilight felt her heart ease a bit. "Applejack, tell me. What happened to your soldiers at that battle?"

"Well...don't much like talkin' 'bout it, but I reckon you oughta know seein' as you just got outta your room and all. I didn't tell 'em what we were doin' and why, and they got all panicky and when they saw the gryphons they ran off like a cat that got its tail stepped on. Then the whole barn came tumblin' down. Downright stupid of me I guess."

Twilight was torn between smiling and crying. It was horrible. But Applejack was talking. She asked another question, her voice even: "Is that what happened, Pinkie?"

Pinkie's joy evaporated. She bit her lip and and nodded. "...yeah. Yeah, it was. And then my girls got caught in it, and it was really--" she stopped speaking for a second and winced, "--really, really bad. I think most of them died. And I lost part of my leg. See?"

She turned awkwardly around. In place of one hoof, she had a clumsy-looking metal contraption that went halfway up the leg. "It's not as bad as it looks, really. I mean...I don't have that hoof and I can't run any more and I can only jump using one leg. But I didn't lose the whole leg. This is just until we can make a better fake leg." She waggled her leg stiffly in the air. "Lots of ponies have lost legs. They say that if you get a good replacement with springs and joints and everything, you can get around almost as well once you're used to it. And...I guess that's okay. It's good, I think. I mean...I mean, I'm alive, right?" She said the last bit as if she were begging the words to mean something.

"Oh, Pinkie Pie, I'm so sorry to hear that. I...I didn't know you lost so much. I'm sorry I..." Twilight trailed off. She couldn't put her hoof on exactly what she was sorry about.

"Well, we pretty much all lost somethin'," Applejack said, tossing her head back in the direction of her tail. Her rear end was hooked into a little two-wheeled cart, and her tightly bound legs dangled awkwardly. "The Princess has all sortsa fixin' magic, but my legs got tore up somethin' fierce. I've still gotta keep all weight off 'em for a few more days at least, and they ain't ever gonna be what they was."

Rainbow Dash nodded. "And I lost...well, I lost somepony I was close to. And that I should have been a lot closer to. But...but I still got something from her before she died. We all got something, too."

Twilight suddenly felt very guilty about having complained of a few aches and sores.

Rarity chipped in. "I can't undo what I've done. But I learned I can stop doing it. I've learned I must stop doing it. Even though I don't know quite what that means yet. And Twilight...there's something else. Something I've meant to say the whole time you were in bed. We learned you were right--right about us. About who we were. About trying to keep up our friendship. I don't know what it is I need to do. At all, really. About anything. But Twilight, dear, I do know that I can only figure it out with the help of you five."

"Yeah," Dash said. "I was kinda dumb. I learned some good things about being a leader. We all learned some good things that we had to learn. But we forgot that we need to learn together. And we learned some bad things too."

"...I missed you girls," Pinkie said quietly.

"...I really missed you," Fluttershy said.

Twilight felt herself beginning to cry. She smiled, and moved closer to the others. They moved in, too. And they stood, head to head to head to head to head to head, crying in relief.

And from a balcony overlooking the courtyard, Celestia smiled: the smile of a mother seeing her estranged children reuniting. The smile of a mentor seeing her troubled students succeeding. The smile of a general seeing her secret weapon nearing completion.



---



Maps were spread all over the table, each one so covered in flags and lines and boxes it was nearly unreadable. Celestia and Luna moved pins and string around the maps with whirlwind speed, Celestia moving blue pins and Luna moving red pins. Every few minutes, the "Gryphon" forces Luna commanded won. And so, every few minutes, they'd pull all the pins off the map and start over.

Twilight Sparkle entered the decrepit torchlit hall. "Um...Princess? I mean, Princesses? You called for me?"

Celestia's horn ceased glowing, and the blue pins fell scattered across the map. She turned and walked towards Twilight. Luna puffed her cheeks out, then exhaled a sudden burst of air. She then picked up Celestia's pins as well as her own, and began playing both sides of the wargame.

"We must be brief," Celestia said. "Luna and I are attempting to find a path out of our predicament. It is not easy."

"Princess...what is our predicament? You never told me when I was in bed. You just told me to rest."

"And you did need to rest. But I think we can discuss what has happened now. You ended up involuntarily activating the Elements of Harmony. Or, perhaps I could say, the Elements of Harmony ended up activating themselves without you having requested it--though I would be speaking somewhat metaphorically."

"I don't mean to be rude, Princess, but I think all six of us figured that part out when it was happening."

"Yes, but it helps to start at the beginning. The Elements are a force of near infinite power. When you activate them, they do exactly what you want them to do--and though you cannot remember it, when they are activated you have the vision of a god by virtue of your link to the Flow. And I do mean you, Twilight Sparkle, as the controlling element of Magic. When both I and you used them again Discord, we wanted to subdue the spirit of chaos; the Elements allowed us to turn him into perfectly ordered, perfectly static rock. When I used them by myself against Night Mare Moon, I wished for her to give me Luna back--and saw that acting alone I did not have the control necessary to do so, and so I chose to imprison her safely until you could arrive and Luna could be redeemed. When you used them against Night Mare Moon, you wished for Night Mare Moon to be eradicated, and saw that could be done best by freeing Luna from her grasp. We do not remember seeing these things, of course, or even being conscious of those wishes. But we wished and saw regardless."

"At the end of the battle, I was in the front lines. I was a target, of course, and wished to be one--I am far more capable of defending myself than most ponies are. But I found I was unable to hold them off for long. I was wounded--not gravely, but wounded regardless, and the blade came as a surprise. So I channeled all my consciousness--all my power--into an appeal to the Elements, as one might appeal to an ex-lover. Fortunately, you were all in a state of mind to accept the Elements again, even if only temporarily."

"You wished two things: you wished to escape with me and you wished for the slaughter to end. And so you accomplished both things. It, of course, would have been better if you had wished for the war to be won, but the Elements respond to emotion and not to logic. And so we seven were brought here, to the Temple of Harmony--the former home of Luna and myself, and the former resting place of the Elements. Before doing that, you sent out a mental shockwave that stunned every mind within miles for hours. Ponies recovered more quickly than gryphons, and most used the opportunity to escape."

Twilight's mind raced with questions. "So we're in the Everfree Forest now? At the castle where we fought Night Mare Moon?"

"Yes."

"Is the army here with us?"

"Several thousand ponies, all survivors of the battle, though we are nowhere near capable of fighting as an army."

"How many survivors were there in the battle?"

"We do not know precisely. We believe that about half of our army survived unharmed. The rest were likely killed, were wounded and taken prisoner, or have deserted with no intention of returning."

"But...Rainbow Dash is trying to get the survivors back here."

"She is one of many ponies attempting to do that, yes. Though we will not be here for long."

"And the Gryphons don't know we're here?"

"They do not, no. And they would not be likely to look for us here, as for religious reasons they consider the Everfree Forest to be hostile territory for us. Which, in a sense, it is--but not in a militarily meaningful sense."

"So why are we leaving?"

"Because ponies know I am here, and that means it is dangerous to stay in one place. I roused you from your bed because we are leaving within several days, and it would be best for you to begin re-acquainting yourself with your responsibilities before we must confront the rigors of campaigning."

"Free ponies wouldn't tell gryphons where we are, Princess."

"No. But they would tell a pony, Twilight. And that's all I can say about it today. I promise you I will explain more, but only when I know more. For now, prepare to move out. Our time of rest is over."



---



Mobakilama crossroads, Punda-Milia. May, 1252.



The grasses blew in the hot wind. High above, towering black clouds slid in front of the sun. A front was moving in. The rains would come. At the crossroads market, Lazy Fare packed her fabrics into a leather bag--animal-skin products were a distasteful thing to own, but they were cheap in Punda-Milia and they kept the rain off her more delicate goods. Still, she didn't like the idea of them. When her travels took her to Equestria, she'd replace them with something she could touch without shuddering, but for now she made do. Such was the life of a roaming trader in luxuries and curios.

"Excuse me," a voice said behind her. It was a high-pitched, eager little voice--not like a filly's, but rather like an mare emulating a filly's.

"Hm," Lazy Fare replied.

"You aren't a stripey pony. Maybe you know how to talk!"

"Uh...yeah. Yeah, I can talk. Of course I can talk. In five languages, in fact." She turned around. A smiling purplish pony with a violet-and-white mane stood uncomfortably close. Lazy Fare took a step backwards. The pony took a step forward, in a manner that might have been threatening if the she didn't appear to be completely oblivious to Lazy Fare's discomfort.

"Wow! That's really cool! I can talk, too. Ha ha. But you know that! Because you can hear me talk. Wait. You can understand me, right? I think that's how it works. If you understand one thing I say you understand all of them. Is that how it works?"

"Uh...well, not really? Like sometimes people just know trade pidgins or something. But, um...yeah, I can understand you. I'm a pony. I was born in Equestria...um...can I help you?"

"Ooh! Equestria! I think I was born there too! Do you know Princess Celestia?"

"Wow. Um. Do you...have anyone here you're with? Like a parent or a friend or something?" She looked around for another pony she could talk to. There were only zebras.

"No! I had friends but then they died and now I don't have them. Do you know Princess Celestia?"

"Oh. Wow. Um...wow. So you're all alone? Can you...you know...take care of yourself?"

"Of course," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Of course I can. I can do whatever I want. Do you know Princess Celestia?"

"Well, with that kind of persistance I'm not surprised. I'm glad you're all right," she replied, feeling a bit more at ease. "But as for your question? Nah, I don't know her. I'm just a trader. I've sold the palace some neat stuff I've picked up in particularly far-off places, but that's all handled through buyers. I never see her, but I do like to think that maybe she likes some of the stuff I've found. Like...I like to think that in some small way, I've got a connection with her, you know?"

Screwball took a step closer. She was eye-to-eye with the trader. "So you say you don't know Princess Celestia. But then you say you know where she lives and that you sell her toys. Do you know who she is or not!? I don't like ponies who play tricks on me!"

"Whoa, it wasn't a trick," Lazy Fare said, her back now against another trader's tent. "I thought you asked if I knew her, like personally. Yeah, of course I know who she is. Everypony does. She's the Princess."

Screwball smiled happily. "Good! Nopony here seems to know anything about her. Where is she?"

"Uh...I hear there's a war going on. She's probably fighting it."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"But you just said there was a war."

"Yeah, but...like, I don't know where she is."

"Where is the war?"

"It's all over Equestria."

"Where's that?"

Lazy Fare pointed in a northerly direction. "Uh, you know. Equestria. North."

Screwball squinted in the direction Lazy Fare's hoof was pointing. "I don't see a war on that hill."

"Oh, for the love of...no. It's really far in that direction.  Like, really, really far. Are you sure you can take care of yourself? How long have you been alone?"

"Weeks, probably. And yes, I can take care of myself. I told you. I can do whatever I want to do." She pouted aggressively.

Lazy Fare laughed. "Yeah, you got that right. Anything you want. That's why I travel alone, too--it's nice having nopony holding you back from where you want to go. And I guess you've got to be more put-together than you look, if you're surviving just fine out here by yourself."

Screwball smiled contentedly. "Yep. So how do I get to Princess Celestia?"

"Well...I'd head up to Equestria and then start asking around, though I'm sure it's not easy to find her during a war. Hey, do you want to buy a map? I've got a map of the entire region here, with all the roads laid out."

"Nope! I can't read."

"No, it's a map, see? It's a picture. You can look at the picture and it tells you where to go. Look, I believe you that you take care of yourself, but...how do you survive out here?"

"I do whatever I want with my magic," she said offhandedly, "but I want to see the picture that talks to you! Let me see! Let me see!" She bounced in a little circle as Lazy Fare pulled a rolled map out of her bag and spread it on the ground.

"See? This is us, right here. And this is the rest of the zebra lands. And over here is the antelope lands, and up here is the Southwest Desert. And way up here is Equestria!"

Screwball looked dejected. "You said it would talk. It's just drawings of lines."

"Well, no, it doesn't talk, but it still tells you things."

"No. It doesn't. You lied to me. Is Equestria really that way past the hill?"

"Yeah, of course! It's really, really far. Like weeks and weeks away. But it's still that direction."

"Hmph. We'll see. But I'll believe you. Even though you lied about this map." Screwball began rolling the map up.

"So...you'll take the map, then?"

"Yes. Even though it's a lie. Maybe someone else will tell me what it really does and if it can help me get to Princess Celestia." She put the map in a strangely misshapen, ruddy-colored bag, and began walking off.

"Hey! Hey, you didn't pay for it yet. You need to give me money."

Screwball wheeled around, anger in her eyes. "First you told me that you didn't know Celestia and then you said you did. Then you said the map would talk and it didn't. Then you asked me if I wanted a map and then you tried to take my money after you gave it to me. You keep lying to me. And you keep saying I'm too dumb to survive on my own and that's a lie too. I don't like you."

"Look, kid, or, uh, lady, I don't mean to fight with you or anything like that. I swear I'm not trying anything funny. But I need to make money to live, you know? If you want the map, I'll sell it to you at cost, okay? Ten bits. That's what I paid. Ten bits and it's yours."

"You like money."

There was silence. She didn't know how to reply. "Uh...I need to eat. Like everypony."

"You like money, don't you?"

"...sure. Yeah, I like money."

"Like a purse. You're like a little purse."

"What are you talking about? Look, do you want to buy the map or not?"

"But you're bigger than a purse."

"The heck are you going on ab-"



The tents and tarps of the crossroads market burned in the distance as the first raindrops of the season fell. Screwball walked happily in the rain, her one flip-flop splashing in the new puddles, her new coinpurse jingling on her belt, and her bag filled with new tasty fruits--and with a map, whatever that was. She walked on. The lying pony said Princess Celestia was this way. And maybe she was. But she had a map, and she could ask other ponies and zebras who woudn't lie. Even zebras could look at pictures and point, even if they couldn't talk right. And they wouldn't all be liars like that pony was. She shook her wet mane and laughed with delight. Wherever Princess Celestia was, Screwball would find her. And then...and then...

She giggled in the downpour.

> XXVII. West of Manehattan. May, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

West of Manehattan. May, 1252.

The soldiers walked in near silence, the soft patter of hooves in damp dirt and the creak of wagon-wheels the only sounds the army made. A stiff night wind whipped around them, and the pre-dawn light was greeted only as a reminder that they had indeed been marching for an entire night. The pine trees made it impossible to see the rugged hills that surrounded them; the ever-worsening rise and fall of the road under their hooves was Derpy's only reassurance that the terrain would have the cliffs and ridges the map promised. That paltry reassurance didn't help much. The ground was only one of dozens of phantom terrors swirling in her exhausted mind, thoughts ricocheting off the walls of the golden helmet she might be wearing for the last time.

The plan was difficult for any army, let alone one as raw as hers. A night march to the west followed by a battle against a superior gryphon force. Then six hours to reorganize the army, count the losses, and prepare to march again. Then another night march westwards and another battle. Then a day of rest. Then another battle, most likely--and a march northeast if it was necessary to make it happen. Then a forced march westwards to the main highway leading to Gryphonia. And no sense planning beyond that.

If she was perfect, she would have demolished three armies, taken twenty thousand gryphons out of the war, and captured eighty cannon--including the entire New Equestrian Army artillery, which according to her spies would be arriving at the westmost gryphon army over the past three and next two days. And she'd have done it with her 800 veterans, 3000 reasonably trained ponies, and 7000 recruits--who would all be veterans by then.

And if she wasn't perfect, she would have lost the war in one throw of the dice. She would die. Her soldiers would die. Her friends would die. Her country would die. Her daughter would die. 

She hadn't slept well in a week. She hadn't slept at all in two nights. She couldn't calm her mind down enough. She had been haunted by the thought of defeat--of helpless flight and massacre; of claws and teeth and ripping, tearing death. She had always been nervous before battles, but the fear had always vanished once she passed the point of no return. But now the die had been cast: the battle was perhaps an hour away, and given the quality of gryphon scouts, the enemy was almost certainly aware of their presence. The terrain would only allow her one effective deployment. The gryphons would certainly order an attack. And the only decision she would have to make would be which flank to reenforce and when. Everything else was out of her control at this point.

She and Equestria would live. Or she and Equestria would die. And either would be her fault entirely--but either outcome would grow entirely out of the decisions she had already made, with little room for decisions yet to be made.  Her fate was her own doing. Her fate was entirely out of her hooves.

And that went for everypony else's fate, too. Everypony.

"Mac," she said quietly.

"Yup," Big Macintosh said after a brief hesitation. She turned her head to look at him; he was handsome as ever in his armor. He looked melancholy, as he usually did.

"I just want to let you know," she said, quiet enough that only he could hear. "That...I know I haven't always treated you well. But that I appreciate everything you've done for me. And I know I've done a lot of wrong things. But if I die today...well, at least I found a little bit of peace with myself in this hell before I died. And I did because of you. You've given me a lot. And...I know I took a lot you didn't want to give. But I appreciate it. And I'm sorry for all the times I hurt you."

He didn't respond at first. Then he spoke, his voice shaking. "I know. You're a good pony.  I believe you are. And when you act bad, it's because you need to in order to win. And we all need you to win."

"I know. But...I'm still sorry, Mac."

"So am I."

"...I still love you."

"I know."

There was a pause.

"And I still love you too," he continued.

She walked on, then suddenly looked back at him.

"Kiss me. Please. Just a little one."

"We're in public. Everypony can see us."

"See us? If they don't already know about us then they're blind. So kiss me."

He did. 



---



A narrow valley with two wide mouths, separated by 400 yards. High walls and curves in the valley providing plenty of cover from artillery. One thousand soldiers in front of fifteen hundred recruits in front of four hundred veterans in each mouth. Two thousand recruits as her reserves. And the rest--the pegasus ponies--in close formations directly above and behind the twin lines of battle to countercharge any gryphon attacks. She also had seven cannon, positioned back near her, which would have little impact beyond the inherent psychological effects of artillery.

They were deployed. They were ready. The chokepoints would ensure that the extra power of a lion would be nullified by their larger size; for every lion in combat there would be three or four ponies, given the body sizes involved and the close ranks her soldiers kept and the loose mob charges the lions often broke into. It would also make it near impossible for gryphons to maneuver; there would be exactly one possible angle of attack. Her soldiers were untested, for the most part--but they knew exactly what to expect. There was only one direction the enemy could come from. And retreat was nearly impossible in tight quarters with the veterans in the back.

Before her army, the enemy marched in parade formations, preparing a joint attack. If they were smart, they would have refused battle until the ponies attacked. There was, after all, nothing forcing them to attack an enemy with so many advantages. Nothing, that is, but their hatred for apparent cowardice, their disdain for her mob of ponies, and their eagerness to be the one to capture the Grey Mare. Derpy had talked to many, many gryphons. She knew what a gryphon wanted. And she knew they would want to attack, even--especially--if the ponies had presented a strong defensive position.

And as the sound of foreign drums and horns rattled through the crevice, she knew that was exactly what was about to happen.



The attack began as expected. Gryphon cannonballs caromed harmlessly off the walls, as each impact against the soft rock bled off their once-deadly speed. High-angle shells exploded fruitlessly on the rock above, causing showers of dust and warm gravel but little worse. The gryphons made a few halfhearted charges, but each time were repulsed; the pegasus ponies were low enough that a proper charge was too dangerous. And still the ponies stood their ground.

They stood their ground though the lions came. And they stood their ground through the carnage. They stood their ground as they repulsed wave after wave of charging muscle and teeth. And they stood their ground though they died by the dozens.

Derpy watched it all, her stomach twisting. She needed to wait just a little longer. She needed to wait for the gryphons to commit to a larger lion charge--one designed to break her lines. She needed to wait until one side of the battle repelled it. And then she could order the charge. Her entire reserves would the successful defenders in a countercharge that would flank or even encircle the rest of the committed lions. And then the proper battle would be over, and it would just be a matter of hunting down the fleeing enemy.

But she needed to wait for the right moment. She needed to wait for the gryphons to launch an attack they thought might succeed. And so far, they were content to simply test her forces with little jabbing attacks. Perhaps they hoped to humiliate her by showing that ponies would break under light pressure. And perhaps they were right. But every minute the battle continued meant more losses she couldn't afford. She had to win cleanly. And that meant the enemy had to be rash.

She wasn't planning on them being rash the entire campaign, no. But it was a necessary part of the first ffffffseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEpingthunk. She looked up in startled surprise. It sounded like a shell. It was a shell: a round ball with a clear welding mark around the middle, now half-embedded in the ground. Her eyes went wide. She held her breath. She felt a sudden thrill. And then she felt nothing at all.





Bon Bon stood in the dust and noise and fury.  She was still unable to kick, and was still unwilling to abandon the front lines. She now commanded the Ponyville Guard of veterans--the fifth pony to have held the honor, and as of this week the one to have held it the longest without dying. Before her, she could hear ponies and lions screaming in rage and shrieking in pain. Yet all she could see were vague shapes in the dust--the dust kicked up by the fighting and the dust blown around by the artillery fire, the dust that kept the bloody ground from becoming too slick to stand. There were five ranks of ponies in front of her. Beside her, Lyra stood, steadfast and composed. And behind her was the empty valley, and behind that were General Hooves and her reserves. The fight sounded brutal. She clopped her front hooves impatiently. She certainly didn't enjoy carnage, but she felt awful knowing that untested ponies were bearing the brunt of it.  She remembered when the prospect of battle was nightmarish. It was still a horror, but it was a horror she knew she could face. The same couldn't be said of the ponies in front of her.

As Ponyville veterans, she and Lyra were held in high esteem. They had nearly died several times. They had nearly left the army many times. But they had stuck with the army. And they had stuck with the General. To be held out of battle while wide-eyed recruits were slaughtering and being slaughtered by trained lions? That wasn't fair to anypony.

A pegasus wearing a recruit's sash came fluttering up behind her. "We've lost," he shouted. "The General has been killed!"

Bon Bon and Lyra immediately turned to face him. "No," they said in unison.

"The General has been killed," he repeated. "Artillery strike. She's dead! Retreat!"

Without thinking, Lyra immediately tackled him. "No. Shut up. Shut up."

"She's dead," he shouted again, to nopony in particular.

Lyra began slapping him with a hoof. Her eyes began to sting. "Shut. The. Buck. Up."

Bon Bon stepped forward, shouting all the while. "If the General's dead, she died fightin'. So I'm not gonna die runnin'. And neither are you. Neither are any of us. Go back. Go back now. Get 'er whistle. And blow a full charge. I'm doin' the same right the buck now. And no, I'm not gonna wait for ya, so unless y' want to let us all die, you better do as you're ordered, mister. Lyra, gimme a Full House. I gotta say somethin'."

She turned to face the soldiers in front of her, nearly all still focused on the battle going on right in front of them.  She felt Lyra's magical aura embrace her and tingle her throat. And she spoke, her voice ringing over the din of the battlefield:

"Listen up you guys. This is Bon Bon of the Ponyville Guard. Word is the General's been killed by a shell. I ain't got any idea if it's true, but ponies ain't liars so I'm thinkin' it's real. But if she died, she died doin' her job. She died fightin'. She died so we could win this battle and win this war. And it's up to us to make sure she didn't die for nothin'. So we're gonna win this now. Full charge. All ponies. Don't stop till there ain't a single feathery bastard in front of ya. And don't worry none 'bout dyin', 'cause the General sure as buck didn't. On my mark. Now."

She then grabbed her whistle between her teeth and blew: a sharp, amplified, piercing wail that carried across the entire field.

And then, to Bon Bon's satisfaction and Lyra's wonder, the entire army charged.



---



The first thing she noticed was a stabbing pain in her eye. The second thing she noticed was a headache that she could somehow feel even in her hooves. The third thing she noticed was a swimming, dizzy sensation. And then she opened her eyes.

Or her eye. Her vision didn't seem right. She tried the right eye. She saw a white light drowning out all shape and form. She closed it again. She tried the left eye. It didn't even feel like there was an eyelid to open. She lifted a hoof to her face. It was wrapped in bandages. She let the hoof rest on her chest. That was wrapped in bandages, too. 

She was thirsty. By Celestia, she was thirsty. She tried to ask for water. She felt a dull rasp came out. A blurry pony immediately came trotting up to her, smiling eagerly. Nurse Redheart, maybe. She couldn't make out a word the other pony was saying. All she could hear was a deafening ringing: a thousand pure tones blending at once in a symphonic roar that replaced everything else.

Derpy closed her eye again. And she slept again.



---



She woke with a start. The tent ceiling was brightly lit--and shockingly clear. She immediately tried to sit up, then regretted the attempt: moving at all felt like a hammer to the chest. "Mac," she said, her voice dry and quiet. "Mac, where are you?"

"I'm here, Derpy," a dim and distant voice said. She rolled her head to the right, despite feeling like her neck might snap in half from the effort. She saw him there, smiling weakly. "Welcome back. We all missed you. And you came back just in time, too."

"No," she muttered, "we need to charge now. Left side."

"Bit late for that, Derpy. We did that. Once everypony heard you had died, they all charged. It took the gryphons a bit by surprise, 'specially since it sounded like Bon Bon announced it to everypony in a ten-mile radius. First they heard of your death, and I imagine they thought they had wrapped up the war. They sure didn't expect that killin' you would turn a bunch of farmponies into bloodthirsty warriors. 'Course, you didn't die. Kinda had our pie and ate it too, if'n you ask me." He chuckled.

"We...did we win?"

"Five thousand taken prisoner and three thousand dead, most of 'em cut down as they tried to flee. The rest scattered like dandelion seeds. And that's their losses, mind you. We lost about seven hundred all told. You didn't win, Derpy, you demolished them. Like you said."

"So we won this morning. Good. We can move out tonight, then, right? Meet the westmost army tomorrow morning?"

"Derpy, you've been awake about twenty minutes over the past day and a half."

She sat up suddenly, disregarding the crushing pain it caused. "What?! I told you we had to move! That the plan meant we had to go fast!"

"You're the plan, Derpy. We can't do much anything with a KO'd General. And we had plenty of wounded and prisoners to take care of."

She fell back on the bed, sending another wave of pain through her body. She grunted involuntarily. "I told you we'd have to leave most of the wounded, and we'd have to cripple the prisoners and leave them too."

"Like I said, you were out of it. We figured there wasn't any point in leavin' a bunch of hurt folks lyin' 'round a bloody crack in the ground if you weren't even awake. We recovered 400 wounded who we were able to at least get back on their feet, not to mention the soldiers got plenty of sleep last night. They're ponies, Derpy. It's not a bad thing to treat 'em like ponies now and again."

She raised a hoof to her forehead. "Mac, I've been doing almost nothing but keeping them alive and fed and healthy for half a year. Now I need them to fight. And you're telling me you didn't let them fight. Don't you care about me?"

"Derpy," he said sternly. "You were unconscious, you're the only pony who can lead us, and the gryphon armies were days away. We weren't going to wander blindly at them in the hopes we'd stumble into doing what you'd have done."

"Okay," she said placidly. "Okay. My head really hurts and I'm dizzy."

"I know. That shell hit pretty close."

She did nothing but breathe for a minute.

"Why are there bandages all over me?" She asked calmly, as if she were asking the time.

"You got shards of metal all over your body. Redheart pulled out most of them and then sterilized the wounds with a hot iron, but that'll leave scars. You're lucky none of 'em cut open anythin' important."

"Did I get one in my eye?" She asked the question as calmly as the other.

"Yup."

"...Did I lose the eye?"

"...yup. 'Fraid you did."

"Heh."

"What?"

"Do you know what that means?"

He was silent. She grinned impishly.

"I'm not cross-eyed any more! Isn't that great?"

He chuckled nervously. She laughed until the laughs devolved into chest-wracking, rib-cracking coughs.



---



She looked at herself in the mirror. There were fine scar lines all over her face, but the fur would grow back over them. The wide gouges all along the left side of her body were pretty awful looking, and the fur could never cover those completely, but armor could cover those. But her eye. Her eye. Her eye. It was a pit of charred flesh. She shuddered and slipped the eyepatch back over it.

And as she looked in the mirror, she was amazed at what she saw and how she saw it. She saw a mare like any other--a mare without ridiculous crossed eyes that made her happiness look moronic and made her anger look laughable. She didn't see an awkward mailpony. She saw a veteran who had long since surrendered her beauty to war. She didn't see Derpy Hooves. She saw the General. No. She saw the Grey Mare.

And she saw her reflection clearly and effortlessly, for perhaps the first time in her life. Her eyes had always pointed in different directions, except through exceptional force of will. And that meant her vision was always blurred. She could choose to see mostly through one eye or the other, but she'd always get hints of the other eye's field of vision, and if she saw something surprising she'd always have to spent a heartbeat wondering whether she really saw it or whether it was a trick played by something drifting into her other eye's line of sight. But now...everything was clear. It was clear like she had closed one eye, but she didn't have to spend energy holding either eye shut. It was effortlessly clear and perfect. She saw one world now. Only one. And yes, that world was maybe a bit smaller than the world she saw with two eyes. But it was sharp and stark and it made sense. Everything was clear now.

"They charged because they thought I was dead," she said to the mirror. "A pony who dies fearlessly inspires others to not fear death."

She blinked.

"The gryphons ran because they were surprised that we didn't run away when faced with my supposed death. No. Not surprised. They were terrified that my ponies did not fear my death. An enemy who does not fear death is terrifying."

She blinked.

"There are now two gryphon armies within a day's march of us. One has fifty artillery pieces capable of flinging 9-pound shells. And we have almost no artillery. One has thousands of Gryphon hussars. And we have few competent fliers. They will join up. We cannot stop it. And we will be outnumbered."

She blinked.

"We have little artillery. We have few cavalry. But we have hundreds of wounded ponies dying of infection. And a pegasus in nearly any condition can fly. And a pegasus who can fly can carry a hundred pounds of explosives."

She blinked.

"A few pounds of explosive and a few pounds of iron, a good distance away, did this to me. A hundred pounds of explosives and metal shards could destroy entire formations."

She blinked.

"We have hundreds of ponies who will die anyway."

She blinked.

"A pony who dies fearlessly inspires others."

She blinked.

"An enemy who does not fear death is terrifying."
> XXVIII. Northmarch, Equestria. May, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Northmarch, Equestria. May, 1252.



Eight ponies sat in a tight circle, seven with a thin, torn, rough blanket wrapped around them--and one with a gold helmet, a shimmering cape, and a black eyepatch. The odor of infection hung in the little tent, left by the dozens of ponies who had passed through in the preceding hour, but the smell went unnoticed by the seven wounded soldiers and ignored by the scarred general. Derpy spoke, exactly as she had done eight times in the past hour and change, and as she would as many times over the next.

"My ponies," she said tenderly, "as you have been told by your doctors and by your bodies themselves, your time in Equestria is limited. You have given what all ponies have long considered the last and final measure of devotion: you have purchased life and freedom for others by laying your own on the scales held by the terrible butcher of war. A pony cannot offer more than her soul."

"Except, perhaps, for her body. You can, if you like, cheat the butcher; you may choose to lay a hoof on the scale. Though your blood is poisoned with disease, you are not sentenced to a quiet death in a tent of misery. You may yet choose the death of a hero; you may yet choose to save yourself the indignation of a death by infection, and may choose to save your comrades the pain of a hundred deaths in battle."

"Behind me is a weapon unprecedented in history: one that consumes its user--and everything near it--in a sudden explosion of enormous force. It is a vest containing a large quantity of explosive charge, detonated by you yourselves. The force of such bombs will demolish entire formations of gryphons; the terror they will induce will set armies to flight. The gryphons do not expect it. The gryphons cannot conceive of it. They will be struck with horror because they will not understand what is happening. When they come to understand, their horror will be doubled. And they will break, and they will flee."

"If you volunteer for a hero's death, you will be rewarded. I will write a letter for you--personally for you--to your local government explaining your sacrifice and requesting that your family be taken care of as the family of any war hero would be. I will include your name on a letter to Princess Celestia requesting special consideration for posthumous recognition, including land and gold grants to your family. Through the power granted to me by Princess Celestia herself, I will--at the moment you volunteer--personally elevate you to the rank of Lieutenant, making you a commissioned officer in the service of the Princesses. As soon as circumstances allow, I will order a medal struck in your honor and awarded to your family. And, above and beyond all that, you will have the honor of dying knowing that you have traded days or hours of one pony's life for centuries of freedom for all ponies."

"If you would prefer the quiet death of a diseased soldier, that is your right as a free pony. You may stand and return to your medical tent, and nopony shall think less of you. Nopony but the eight in this tent will know that you turned down this opportunity."

"If you would prefer to ensure that hundreds of other ponies will not suffer as you have--if you would prefer to repay the gryphons a hundredfold for your death--that, too, is your right as a free pony. You may stay and have your names added to the roll. You will be moved to a special tent where you will be taken care of to the best of our ability. And tomorrow morning, you will be roused, and you will be outfitted, and you will become heroes."

"The choice is now yours. Make it."

She watched them think. Two kept looking at the tent flap, then at the other ponies, then back at the tent flap. Three looked forward with thousand-yard stares. And the other two resolutely stared back at her.

"Will you volunteer?"

Two nodded emphatically. Three nodded without emotion. Two hesitated, then, at last, nodded as well.

"Swear aloud that you volunteer, willingly and without reservation, to join the Royal Special Attack Force, and that you will carry out your mission with all the dignity and honor of a free pony who has made a free choice."

They did.

Derpy stood, then walked to each one, who rose to meet her. She kissed each pony--the stallions on the nose, the mares on the cheek--thanked each one with an honest gratitude, and addressed each as 'Lieutenant.' When she had completed her circuit around the tent, she dismissed them, and they left.

Now alone, she sighed heavily. She had four minutes until the next group arrived. She sat, both thinking and trying not to think. Thirty seconds ticked by. She thought of the deadened, numbed faces so many of her "heroes" wore. 45 seconds. She thought of the reluctant volunteers, afraid to die but more afraid to lose a respect they would never live to enjoy. One minute ten seconds. She thought of the eager ones. One minute fifteen seconds. She thought of the test explosion they had run--how nothing was left of the diseased pony corpse they had suited in the bomb vest, how test corpses as far as 30 meters away had been mangled beyond recognition, and how test corpses as far as 70 meters away were shredded by fragments of metal. One minute 50 seconds. She thought of the reluctant ones shuddering as they released the mouth trigger. Two minutes. She thought of the explosions in the sky and on the ground. She thought of gryphons dying. Of gryphons fleeing. Two minutes twenty seconds. She thought of her daughter. No. Not my daughter. Not Dinky. No. Two minutes twenty-five seconds. She thought of Dinky watching the battle--the sight of murderous suicide filling her uncomprehending child's eyes. No. Dinky is on the other side of Equestria. Dinky couldn't see it. But if she did... She thought of Dinky looking at the battle and crying. She thought of Dinky looking at her and crying. No. Stop it. Stop thinking about that. She couldn't possibly see it. No. No. She won't see it. But she will find out. And then what will she think of me? What will she think of her mommy? No. She'll understand. No. She'll never understand. She thought of her daughter. Four minutes.

Another group of wounded ponies shuffled through the tent flap. Derpy shook off her reverie as the ponies sat down in a circle. And she spoke, exactly as she had done nine times in the past hour and change, and as she would as many times over the next. 

"My ponies," she said tenderly, "as you have been told..."



---



The field rustled with the sound of quiet, concentrated activity, and the Army of Northern Equestria's few qualified unicorn artillerists, now operating under the auspices of the Royal Special Attack Force, worked frenetically. Twenty ponies painstakingly sewed uniforms together, reenforced them, added hollow chambers, and filled them with captured Gryphon explosive and bits of broken metal. As each was done, it was gently set on the pile of bomb vests. The pile had started as a single vest lying on the grass. It was now a larger but still-unimpressive-looking mound, more reminiscent of a pile of laundry than of a weapon to change the fates of nations.

The artillerists worked in close quarters and thought little of it. Were they using Equestrian magic-charge, they would be taking safety precautions, but Gryphon powder-charge was chemical in nature and burst in contact with fire--meaning it was safe to use magic when handling it, so long as there was no source of fire or sparks nearby. A few were spooked by the idea of handing explosives right next to a pony handling explosives, but they kept a straight face. Nopony wanted to let anypony think less of them.

Derpy arrived quietly, and watched the progress without alerting them to her presence. They had made many vests. Perhaps enough, perhaps not. There were two hundred forty ponies who had agreed to become living shells. There were zero ponies who had refused to. Even allowing for the many who would die or become bedridden before the battle, that would be well over a hundred members of the Royal Special Attack Force. A hundred pony bombs. It seemed like such a large number, but a hundred vests didn't make a very large pile at all. Well. A 9-pound shell was downright tiny, but a well-placed one could change the course of a battle, couldn't it? Odd, though. So much depended on that heap of rags. The death of thousands if they worked. The death of thousands if they didn't. Horror and revulsion. Victory and triumph. Martyrs and villains. A pile of laundry.

A voice spoke over her shoulder. "I figured I'd find you here, General."

She didn't look at him. "Well, I figured you'd want to find me, Mac."

"You know what I'm gonna say." He spoke calmly but resolutely. 

"I have some idea, yes. You're going to tell me that you're resigning in protest."

"If you know the what, then you know the why, so I ain't gonna waste breath on tellin' you what you already know. Do you have anythin' to say before I do it?"

"Yes," she said, completely without passion. "You aren't leaving. Because I am not going to allow Sweetie Belle and her friends to leave, given their symbolic importance to the army, given that simply releasing them in hostile territory so close to an active enemy army is tantamount to surrendering them to Gryphon scouts, and given that the gryphons have already demonstrated their eagerness to take them prisoner. If you leave, you are not leaving with Apple Bloom or her friends."

"You can't make me stay by takin' hostages." He sounded more broken than defiant.

"She's not a hostage, Mac. I said it was for their safety and it is. I've always been completely honest with you. I'm not going to release them for their safety. So if you leave, you leave her here with me." Her voice remained neutral.

Mac was silent. Derpy waited for a response. She didn't get one--but his expression betrayed that his silence wasn't intentional. He was simply at a loss for words.

"So it comes down to this then, Mac: you can stay and continue to serve as my friend, my lover, and my conscience, in the hopes that your influence will help me remain a good pony despite the awful things I have ordered and will order in the future. Or you can leave, with the belief that cutting my only link to normality is worth it if you don't have to see the repercussions--but with the knowledge that your sister and her friends will not only have to see it, but have to live it."

He was still silent.

"I told you that kissing me was a bad idea, Mac. Because you kissed me, I have taken a hostage--but it's not your sister and it's not you. I'm the hostage. If you leave, then Derpy dies. And all that's left will be the Grey Mare."

He was still silent. 

"I love you, Mac," she said, her voice softening only a bit. "I really do. The pony you know literally cannot live without you. And you have to understand what that means for me, for you, for this army, and for Equestria. Except for the Princesses, I am very likely the most important pony alive, and very possibly one of the most important ponies in history. And I depend on you completely. That makes you exactly as responsible for this army and to this country as I am. And an Apple never backs down from responsibility. Does he?"

He finally spoke. "No. He doesn't. But he doesn't stand by evil like this."

"It's not evil. It's--"

"--necessary? That excuse is runnin' thin. We didn't have to fight. We coulda retreated."

"No, we couldn't have. There wasn't a clear route we could have reached in the time we had."

"We coulda done somethin'."

"Easy to say that when you're not the one that has to figure out exactly what that "somethin'" is."

"Easy to say when you insist on plannin' strategy by yourself."

"That's because I'm the only one who can do it, Mac!"

"Oh, right, I forgot, the only pony capable of comin' up with a sound military idea is the mailmare who had never so much as led a book club before the war."

"I'm not going to argue my authority or my privilege as general. Nopony in military history has done what I've done or what I'm going to have to do. I have to do this alone, and I will do it alone."

"Alone, huh? Is that why you say you depend on me so much?"

"That's different. Dammit, you know that's different! It's not fair to use that as a weapon against me."

"If it ain't fair to use a pony's love as a weapon, how come it's fair to use an entire pony as a weapon?"

She stopped, then spoke quietly. "They're volunteers. I gave every one the chance to leave with a promise that nopony would think less of them."

"How many said no?"

"...none."

"Derpy, I know from experience that if I gave a hundred ponies off the street a free apple--a delicious apple for absolutely nothin', no strings attached, from trustworthy ol' Big Macintosh Apple hisself--ten would turn it down. Nothin's so good everypony signs up for it. They aren't volunteers. They were ordered without orderin'."

"This is more than an apple, Mac, it's--"

"--it's suicide, Derpy, and you're tellin' me that every single pony you talked to was just rarin' to commit suicide?"

"No, I--"

"--was everypony gung-ho about it? Everypony looked real excited to blow up tomorrow morning?"

"Well, not everypony, but they all--"

"--and if, a year ago, Princess Celestia herself told you, personally, that you could save Equestria from certain destruction by offin' yourself, wouldn't you have done it even if you didn't want to?"

"...yes. I suppose I would, though I wouldn't have liked it. Nopony could turn that kind of request down."

"And if'n nopony could turn it down, don't that mean their say-so wasn't freely given?"

"No," she said instantly, "it doesn't mean that, Mac. If they think Equestria depends on their sacrifice, it's because it does. And if they see me in the same light that they see Celestia, it's because they think I deserve to be. I wasn't born this beautiful majestic being capable of moving the cosmos. I was born a pegasus with a dull coat, a dull mane, and crossed eyes. Ponies didn't first learn of me as an immortal, divine ruler. They learned of me as a stupid-looking mailmare who blundered into starting up a little militia. If they want to trust me, then it's by their own free will, because they think I deserve to be trusted. And if they accept the truth that the stakes of this campaign is Equestria itself, then that's by their own free will, too--again, because they think I deserve to be trusted."

"They don't trust you, Derpy. I trust you. They obey you. There's a difference."

"It's the other way around, Mac," she said with not just a hint of exasperation. "They trust me and you obey me. I mean, you don't trust that I'm a good pony, but you hang around anyways. What else would you call that?"

"I'd call it trust, Derpy. I don't think you do good things, but I trust you're a good pony underneath, and more'n that, I trust that you're the only one capable of savin' us. But them? They don't care if you're a good pony. They don't even care if you're a pony at all. They just do what you say 'cause you're the General. They don't know a thing about who you are, and they don't care to."

"...you're right," Derpy said after a pause. "They're just obeying me."

"Yup."

"They don't trust me. They don't love me. They don't even know me. But...you do know who I am."

"Yup."

"And...and you still love me."

"...well, I suppose I don't know any better words for it."

"If you're going to tell me they don't love me at all, then I'll need more than that."

"Then I'll say I love you, Derpy."

"And I'll say I believe you."



---



Northmarch Hills, Equestria. May, 1252.


The drums rolled.

Private Boyd Screwtail rocked back and forth in giddy anticipation. He was in the reserves, but he didn't care. Finally, there was a battle. He had been campaigning with the Gryphon army since the beginning, but frankly--and he would never admit this to another soul--it had been disappointing. The war hadn't been a glorious fight for the survival of the ancestral spirits. It hadn't even been a fight. It had just been a bunch of marching around, setting up camps and patrols and going on fruitless hunts for bandits and occasionally setting fire to villages in retaliation for bandit raids. But the ponies he saw never fought back. They just looked sad. And there wasn't much honor to be gained in fighting an enemy that either ran or surrendered. It was probably true that wretches deserved a good beating now and then, but beating a wretch wasn't much fun, and it certainly wasn't the kind of thing that your ancestors would sing about.

Oh, welcome, Boyd, to our hall of highest honor. We were all really impressed when you slashed that crying pony-woman's face because she wouldn't stop begging you for food. Yes, that certainly added to the glory of the Screwtail name--but not nearly as much as when you burned down that barn because a general thought that maybe a bandit might have slept here once. Your valiant blow against the fearsome beast of crimson-painted wood--full to the brim with horrid bales of straw and infested with deadly sleeping cows--certainly deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as your father mortally wounding a dragon as he fought to his final breath, and you certainly deserve to take your place by his side.

But now they had an enemy, and an enemy that was willing to fight. The Grey Mare had long been known as a fearsome bandit leader--her thugs were everywhere, always ready to pounce on unsuspecting forager teams or supply carts, kill everyone that couldn't escape, and steal whatever food or cannon or armor they had. But now, it seemed, this wretched creature of cruelty and deception had decided to become a proper general. Perfect. Whoever fought in the battle that ended her campaign of terror would be able to claim a share in the death of a true enemy of all honorable gryphons everywhere. And whoever brought back her body would earn a lifetime of respect. It might even be like capturing the Pony Queen--well, okay, no, it wouldn't be anything like capturing the Pony Queen, especially given the bizarre escape that manipulative demoness had managed after her defeat. Regardless, defeating the Grey Mare would still be far more impressive than "defeating" a barn.

The Grey Mare had fought one battle so far--one real battle, with whole armies standing in formation. She had won, but in Boyd's eyes all that proved was that General Scruffcrest was too rash and immature to command an army. This time, the Grey Mare faced General Highnest, a gryphon of renowned discipline. And this time, she faced an army twice her size. And this time, she was on ground that didn't allow any silly tricks like in the last battle--not that General Highnest would fall for a trick in the first place.

And here, before him and before the twenty thousand soldiers of the combined Second and Fifth Gryphonic Armies, stood the little army of the ponies. It was a strange sight--thousands of brightly colored little ponies in their little uniforms, standing in little lines or marching in little formations. They looked so out of place, so completely unsuited to fighting the professional warriors of the Kingdom of Gryphonia. The Gryphonic forces were an army. This was a little furry rainbow. And this little furry rainbow was the last army the ponies had. Their last stand. After today's victory, the war would be over and the gryphons could begin creating a peaceful, natural Equestria. And Boyd would always be able to say that he was there for the end.

A sudden mighty crash rang in his ears and rattled in his hollow bones as the Gryphonic artillery opened fire, emptying his mind of everything but the noise. A few seconds later, dustclouds began appearing all along the pony lines as cannonballs ripped ponies apart by the handful. Gryphonic artillery didn't use the infamous liquid fire the ponies were dishonorable enough to employ, and Gryphonic explosive shells were as unreliable as they were expensive, but ten-pound balls of iron travelling at nearly the speed of sound were perfectly capable of tearing armies to pieces.

The pony army reacted instantly, though they fired no artillery in reply. The pony lines began walking forward, as clouds of pegasus ponies lifted off the ground and began flying towards the Gryphonic lines. Boyd smiled inwardly. No pony artillery means the ponies have to charge, or else they'll be dismantled by our cannon fire. And charging a superior force head-on is a waste. The Grey Mare knows she's beat. She's just giving her soldiers a chance to die honorably.

Formations of gryphons flew out to meet the pony cavalry. Boyd felt a tinge of jealousy; he wanted to be there in the first wave, though he expected it wasn't going to be much of a fight. The gryphons outnumbered the pegasus ponies, and these ponies could hardly maintain a proper formation. 

Then, the ponies did something strange. The clouds of pegasus cavalry came to a halt, and from the clouds flew dozens and dozens of single ponies. Each pony headed directly at a formation of gryphons. The gryphons ignored the lone ponies, of course--likely undisciplined gloryseekers who didn't heed an order to halt. The lone ponies flew onwards, into the gryphon formations. Boyd followed one with his eye. He watched the pony soar through. He watched two gryphons break formation to meet the pony. Then, suddenly, that pony was gone. And so was the formation. In their place was an enormous cloud of fire and smoke. The entire sky lit up with flashes of light, as wing after wing of gryphon cavalry disappeared in the sudden firestorm. And then came the sound--a rolling, terrible thunderclap of explosions bigger than Boyd had ever imagined.

And as the sound subsided, he stood in shock. The Thirty-fourth through Fifty-first Gryphon Hussars had vanished. The only trace they had ever even existed were the clouds of smoke from which scattered dead and crippled bodies fell. And each had been destroyed by a single pony? But...how could...

The pony infantry sounded a charge, and from the cloud of pony cavalry, another wave of lone ponies--much larger than the last one--emerged. Boyd's eyes opened wide. These ones were headed directly for the front lines. There had to have been a hundred of them.



---



Mayweather's body shook as she flew. She was cold. Her wings barely responded. Her leg was turning gangrenous. Her vest was heavy and uncomfortable. She wanted only to cover herself in a blanket and sleep. But sleep would come. Sleep would come as soon as she stopped biting on the trigger. Her jaw was clamped shut around it, as if it had made up its own mind to never let go. She had wondered all night if she'd be able to bite the trigger. She had. It was easy. Now she wondered if she would be able to release the trigger when the time came.

The time had nearly come.

She had seen the first wave of Royal Special Attack Force ponies fly and detonate. She had watched her friend Rose Thorn leave. She had watched Rose Thorn vanish in a cloud of smoke and fire. She had wondered what Rose Thorn had thought in the last seconds. Now, as she approached the line of lions, she knew. She knew she should feel a sense of finality. She knew she should feel fear, or anger. But all she felt was the desire to finish it--to finish it, if only her body would agree. She was almost on top of them now. She tucked her wings into her body and fell into a shallow dive. She counted the seconds as she fell. Two. Three. She saw explosions out of the corner of her eye. She tried to release the trigger as she crashed into a lion. She couldn't do it. Even as she hit the ground her jaw was locked shut.

She whimpered in pain and disappointment. She couldn't do it. A lion stabbed her with a spear. She tried to gasp. Her mouth opened. The trigger was released. The bomb detonated.



----



Boyd was frozen in terror. The ponies were bombs. They were living bombs. And the bombs were blowing holes in their lines. The pony infantry closed to attack as a small wave of lone ponies flew down from the sky. This wave exploded in the lion reserves as the enemy infantry charged into the dazed Gryphonic front lines. He could see the lions breaking. He half-expected to hear an order to re-enforce the front. He wasn't surprised by the fact that he heard nothing. How could any army respond to such a horrifyingly destructive weapon? How could any true gryphon respond to such a cruel enemy? To retreat would be to surrender the field to evil. To fight would be to surrender their bodies to evil. There was no way to respond.

Many gryphons fled. Some charged into the lines. Most simply stood still. When the ponies reached Boyd, he surrendered to the mercy of the Grey Mare, quietly and peacefully. Most others joined him. The Second and Fifth Gryphonic Armies essentially disbanded themselves.



---



Rise up, children of ponies, the day of glory has arrived!
Against us, gryphon tyranny: unbowed and blooded, we must rise!
Unbowed and blooded, we must rise!

The ecstatic strains of La Chevallaise rang through the evening air. Here was a victory to remember--the greatest triumph in recorded military history. Twenty thousand enemy taken prisoner. Five thousand enemy killed, whether on the front line or chased down afterwards. Fifty-seven cannon and hundreds of supply carts captured. Three thousand pony prisoners rescued--mostly local militiaponies, with some high-ranking New Equestrian Army officers captured at the Battle of Reckoning Ridge. Fewer than five hundred casualties, of which a hundred forty three were Royal Special Attack Force.

A day earlier, they were pinned by two armies. Today they had put two armies to flight, had transformed their artillery from a token force into a deadly grand battery, had captured months of supplies, had bolstered their organizational abilities, had won at least a week's worth of freedom to maneuver, now stood square between the remaining gryphon armies and their supply routes, and by defeating three armies in a week--and two in a day--had won a name for themselves.

Derpy heard the celebrations from her tent. Occasionally they fired a cannon. She didn't mind. Best to let them take their joy while they could; a soldier that must suffer deeply must also be allowed moments of catharsis. 

The army was still busy through its celebrations. They couldn't possibly handle keeping 20,000 captives, so she had decided to hobble them rather than kill them or release them to fight again. Under her orders, ponies severed the rear left achilles tendon of each lion and gryphon--and the flight tendons of each gryphon--then released each newly-made cripple. Each prisoner was given a bag, four rations of food, a water canteen, a small knife, a flint, and instructions to the nearest highway which they could follow east to be absorbed by the Gryphon armies. Prisoners too wounded to travel were painlessly executed.

She pulled a quill and ink out of her new bag--the previous possession of one gryphon, formerly the esteemed General Highnest, now a prisoner undergoing interrogation, soon to be a cripple stripped of his uniform and insignias and made to walk eastwards with thousands of his fellow defeated soldiers. Tomorrow she would go over her plans for the future. Tonight she had letters to write.

In the coming days she would have to write a letter for the families of each member of the Royal Special Attack Force, whether they had successfully carried out their mission or had died overnight; what mattered was that they had volunteered. She would have to write a letter to Celestia recommending the newly-minted heroes be rewarded. She would have to write a letter explicitly begging the Princess's forgiveness for attaching the adjective "Royal" to her suicide bombers. And she would have to write an order indefinitely suspending the Royal Special Attack Force.



---

The artillery officer didn't bother concealing his irritation.

"General, I'm surprised you're ending our program after it won a battle for you. Few would abandon such a successful weapon so quickly," he said.

"It isn't your program, Major; you did nothing more than put bombs in a vest. As for your complaint, well, I promised it would be a weapon of desperation. We aren't desperate."

"Desperation or not, it's effective. One pony bomb can save hundreds of lives. Thousands, maybe. If ponies are willing, why not allow them to?"

"Major Almond, I promised it would be a weapon of desperation. We are not desperate."

"Who did you promise?"

"It doesn't matter. Everyone."

"Canceling this program is going to kill ponies. You realize that, I hope."

"Nearly every minute of every day I realize that I kill ponies."

"...Look, even if we stop the pony bombs, please let us keep researching. Maybe we don't have to have the pony die in the process. Maybe they can just drop the bomb vest on lions or something. Or drop some other sort of bomb. A healthy pony could drop a very big bomb."

"Really, Major? Can you get a pony traveling at one-quarter speed across a battlefield and above an enemy line of battle, without being intercepted by a single gryphon and without being hit by canister shot or explosive shot they'll be aiming at them? And can you find a way to account for the fact that each bomb will require as much explosive charge as is required by firing forty cannons?"

"Of course I can."

"No, you can't. You aren't a cavalry officer, and you aren't a logistics officer. You have no idea what it's like to defend a moving three-dimensional space, and you have no idea what goes into getting the materials you use. You make bombs and plan trajectories."

"Well, then give us cavalry officers and logistics officers, and let us work together. We can change the way we fight. We can change the entire way wars are fought. "

"Major, I am more than content to leave this whole affair in the past. I won't win by repeating the same tricks, anyway. You may leave."

"You can't keep us from meeting and talking about the possibilities of this tactic."

"Of course I can't. Meet and talk with all the other officers you like. And if you come up with anything, feel free to tell me. But regardless, this program is suspended indefinitely."



---



Big Macintosh approached the tent flap, cautiously as always.

"You have permission to enter, Major Apple," Derpy called out, before he had even stopped stopped walking. He entered.

"You know the fact that it worked don't excuse that you did it," he said quietly.

"I know, yes."

"You know the fact you ended it don't excuse that you did it," he said. He walked closer.

"I know."

"You know the fact that they agreed to it don't excuse that you did it," he said.

"I know."

"And you know the fact that you did it is the only reason we're all alive today."

"...I know that, too."

"And you know that don't excuse it neither."

"Yeah."

"Then we're on the same page."

"...yeah."

"Glad we got that straight," he said. His expression turned mild.

She motioned for him to come over next to her. He did. She smiled as she talked. "Look, Mac. We've got a clear shot west. We've got tons of supplies and artillery, and there are plenty of recruits and probably stragglers from the New Equestrian Army we can pick up. And we can cut off their resupply routes if we ever want to make them move from where they are. Plus, the gryphon leadership is probably going to be paralyzed for a while after this battle, and on top of that they'll be figuring out what to do with twenty thousand cripples telling stories of pony bombs--"

Big Macintosh winced.

"--and on top of that they'll have huge morale issues now that they've gone from the brink of victory to a contested war, and on top of all that, the locals aren't going to be nearly as willing to cooperate with the occupiers now that they know us and know that we can beat gryphons and beat them soundly. That'll slow 'em down even more, and that'll increase the gifts we're getting from the villages. So we can take advantage. I'd say it'll be a month before we'll even have to think about fighting. Maybe more. A month where we'll be growing. A month where they won't be."

"So we're retreatin'?"

"Not in the slightest. We're advancing away from the enemy and towards Gryphonia."

"Gryphonia? Please tell me you ain't gonna invade. Kickin' 'em out of our homes is one thing, but takin' over their homes is somethin' else."

"Of course not. Not yet. I just mean that's the general direction we're going. We're going northwest, for all the reasons I just said. Expelling the enemy from Equestria is still our only priority."

"All right then."

There was a pause.

"Derpy, what did you mean by 'not yet'?"

"Don't worry about it," she said softly but firmly.

"You know I will."

"Yeah, I do. And you know that worrying won't ever stop me from doing what's necessary when our lives depend on it."

"Eeyup,' he said in sad resignation.

"And you know...you know I need you. To remind me what I should be doing whenever our lives don't depend on it." She was thoughtful. No. She was trying to hide her thoughts.

He didn't reply at first.

"Do you really," he said at last. He didn't say it like a question.

"Yes. I wouldn't have ended the Special Attack program otherwise. I probably would have expanded it. Take on healthy volunteers. Things like that." She bit a lip.

"I'm not hearin' anypony say you can't start it up next battle," he muttered.

She suddenly grabbed his face with both hooves. A thrill of shock ran up his spine. She looked into one eye, then the other, her own face betraying a hidden helplessness.

"Then be the pony who says it. Be the pony who tells me I can't do things. Because I don't think I can be that pony for myself any more. I didn't know the pony bombs were wrong. I just knew they were necessary and they were necessary but I still don't really know that they're wrong. But I trust you that they're wrong. Please. Believe me. I need you."

He swallowed. "I do believe you."

"...I need you to help me."

"I know. I said I believe you."

"...Mac, I feel awful. I don't really know what's right. It's all just death. Everything I do is death. Everything I don't do is death. I've got ghosts of death all around me and I need to decide which ghosts I'm going to make real and who is going to die because of me. And I'm around those ghosts all day and usually it's okay but sometimes I think I'm starting to become one of them."

Mac's heart opened a bit. It had become so rare for her to show vulnerability. "Do you want to talk about it? Like we used to? Before you started talkin' about dependin' on me too much? And before I started sayin' you had to do this all by yourself? You know, since before we started--started gettin' in our own way?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice," she said. She didn't sound happy about the prospect. "...I still love you, Mac."

"I know."

"Do you still love me?"

"I suppose you could say that."

"I already told you I'm going to need something better than that."

"Then I'll say I love you, Derpy."

"I believe you," she said, casting her eye downwards.

He nuzzled her. She didn't feel it.
> XXIX. Northern Punda-Milia / Central Equestria. June, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia. June, 1252.


Prairie Sunset left footprints in the mud: solitary depressions in the smooth and even slope next to her pristine watering hole. She glanced at the glassy surface of the pond and smiled. It lifted her heart to see it: full with the sweet rains of spring, its surface unrippled by wind, its waters untouched by the presumptuous savanna beasts. She sighed in satisfaction. She heard a rustling in the grasses, and a cautious bark. Probably nothing, but worth investigating. She pricked up her ears and began walking towards the noise. The fences were only a warning; it was through constant vigilance that the native population was kept away from her little farm. It was through the water from this pond--and through Earth pony magic--that their dry acres of savanna grass had been transformed into their lush little farmland. That water was far too precious to share.

Occasionally a passing local would try to get at their hard-earned grasses or vegetables. Worse, they would try to get at their precious water. But open access would threaten the water reserves. And without water, the farm couldn't survive--and without the farm they'd have to be nomads like the scrubgrass-eating natives. So Prairie Sunset and her husband Hayseed defended their farm, and defended it tenaciously. Sometimes the locals would band together and try to push her and her husband out. But the ponies were always ready--and, for that matter, so were their dogs. So, through stubborn determination and occasionally through violence, their farmstead stayed in their hooves.

As Prairie Sunset walked into the tall grasses, she heard another rustle, and another string of barks--this one panicky. She slowed her walk, lowered her body to the ground, and began creeping quietly towards the disturbance. She heard a childlike coo, then a yelp, then thought she saw a dog launch violently skyward from the grasses in front of her. She blinked and shook her head in disbelief. She squinted as she looked up, into the bright sapphire sky, trying to see if there actually was a dog hurtling towards heaven. She saw nothing. She looked down. A pair of wide lavender eyes filled her vision.

She jumped back in surprise. Before her was a purple pony with a white stripe in her tangled mane. 



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria. June, 1252.


Twilight Sparkle sat in her tent, breathing. Inhale. She had spent the better part of two weeks re-organizing the army. Sorting their chaotic mass of displaced soldiers into an army that could take and carry out orders. Setting up a new system of handling recruits and recovered stragglers. Exhale. Her duties increased with every passing day. Celestia had been acting increasingly strangely. She seemed nervous. It was strange. Inhale. And through it all, they were constantly moving. Constantly foraging. Constantly sending messengers. Constantly scouting. And nearly everyone reported to her. Exhale. Truthfully, she hadn't realized how much *work* went into leading an army. Sure, she knew she'd have to make difficult decisions, she'd have to plan strategy and tactics and all that. But she thought she'd delegate away most of the day-to-day business of running an army. Inhale. Nope.

What she didn't realize was that every decision anypony made anywhere in the army crossed her desk, whether as a request for authorization or collected in a list of reports from subordinate officers. And sometimes they made bad decisions. Exhale. So until she learned which officers were trustworthy and which needed to be replaced, she had to read every report in full, then evaluate every decision every subordinate had made. In essence, she had to replay everything anyone ever did. Inhale. She should have known. Throughout the war, she had written or spoken to Celestia every time she did anything. And Celestia usually gave some sort of advice. She had assumed the attention was a token of Celestia's special fondness for her prized pupil. Exhale. It was Celestia looking after an officer who hadn't proven herself trustworthy yet. She must have been doing the same with everypony.

"Twilight Sparkle, I require your presence in my tent immediately." The reassuring--yet overawing--voice of the Princess shattered her meditation. She turned in time to see Celestia's graceful shadow vanish from her tent flap as she walked away.



---

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia.


Prairie Sunset gasped in alarm, then narrowed her eyes as she sized up the intruder. The purple pony put out her lower lip in a pout.

"That dog wasn't friendly," she said, her voice quavering.

"Penny? 'Course she in'nt," Prairie Sunset replied, her voice sharp--honed by a relentless lifestyle to a relentless machine-gun fire of words. "What're you doin' on my property?"

"I'm looking for Princess Celestia. Am I close to finding her? Am I closer than I used to be?"

"Well I can't 'magine bein' further 'way from 'er, unless you're all 'a way into th' Zebra tribal lands. What're you doin' here? You tryin' get at my water? We don' even bury th' dummies try that. Just let'm for the birds."

"Um...no. No, I have plenty of water. And I can get more water real easy."

"Well why're you lookin' for Celestia here?  Crazy mare is probably up in 'questria what with that war and everythin' she does. And how come you crossed all three fences? And what th' hay's a pony doin' on the borderlands if'n she in'nt tryin' to take over somepony else's farm?"

"Please stop talking. Farming is boring. I want to find Celestia. Please help me. I've been walking for so long." The strange pony's eyes began to water. "I started out wandering city to city and the zebras weren't helpful at all. And then I finally met a pony and he lied to me but I found out I had to go this way but I don't know if this is that way any more and I have this map but nopony wants to help me ever. They're all real mean or dead."

"...you lost? Punny-Milly is a bad place for ponies to get lost in. Bunch of worthless trash, the locals are. You got zebras tryin' to eat your food, you got wildebeest tryin' to drink your water, and that's just in the mornin's. Jeez." She exhaled deeply. "A'ight, c'mon in with me. Penny'll keep watch out here for a while. Let ol' Prairie Sunset sort'ya out. Can't very well leave a fella pony t' th' mercy a' those savages."

"The dog? Oh. Ha ha ha. She's watching lots of things!"

"Uh, yeah, kid, she's a watchdog. Boy, you seem like a weird cookie. Heh. Well, c'mon back to th' house."

Prairie Sunset turned and headed back to the house. Screwball skipped alongside her. Behind them, unnoticed by either pony, a dog dropped out of the sky and slammed back into the ground with a dull thud.



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria.


Rarity sat in her tent, her brow knitted in concentration. She had forms to fill out--endless forms, in neatly-stacked towers on her desk and in boxes around her. She was now Colonel Rarity, head of the Support division of the Army of Central Equestria. And she wasn't happy about it in the slightest. The promotion wasn't welcome, as she hadn't done anything in particular to warrant it, other than be alive and near Celestia at a time when nopony who outranked her was. Even the rank was something of a slap in the face, as the Support division had previously been headed by a general. Oh, yes, Rarity darling, congratulations, you have been promoted because nobody else is left to promote--but we're not going to give you the rank a pony of your responsibility deserves.  What a vote of confidence that was.

Celestia claimed that there simply wasn't a New Equestrian Army command infrastructure, given the autonomy of the army that silly mailmare had somehow blundered into leading. Celestia claimed that there wasn't a New Equestrian Army chief of supply because there was no unified supply division. Ridiculous. Twilight Sparkle was still going to be promoted to the rank of Field Marshal, ostensibly in charge of both the Army of Central Equestria and the Army of Northern Equestria, and she hardly commanded a few thousand soldiers. Clearly it wasn't about reflecting reality.

She shook her head and kept writing. A brilliant designer born in a farm town had to learn how to shrug off affronts to one's dignity. And there was still so much work to do. Establishing a brand new chain of supply was proving difficult; it seemed like her map was turning into a spaghetti-like mass of intersecting lines and routes twisting to meet up with other routes and stops at supply posts that may or may not actually exist in the real world. But she kept working. She had to take care of so many ponies. And there would be so many more to take care of. She knew that soon she'd have to make tough decisions about who to help and who to let suffer--and she knew that a little more work now would mean having to neglect fewer ponies later.

A voice came from outside her tent. "Rarity, dear, I require your presence in my tent immediately." Celestia. Of course. Rarity scowled, and didn't stop writing for a second. She finished the form slowly--painfully, deliberately slowly--then stamped it, signed it, and filed it away. Only then did she stand up and leave her tent.



---

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia.


Shafts of light poured through the open holes in the wall, lighting the tiny house.

"Well, this is it," Prairie Sunset said. "In'nt much of a house I know, but Punny-Milly in'nt 'zakly a forest, y'know? Hayseed's out patrollin' too, but he'll be back'n a couple hours if y'wanna meet'm."

"I like meeting new people! If they're nice. But lots of people aren't nice. You seem nice, maybe! My name is Screwball."

"Kinda fits you, what with that getup you got. Where'd you get all them bags'n clothes'n stuff?"

"Made 'em," she said distractedly. "You sure got a lot of stuff in this little house!"

"No kiddin'. Not much of a leatherworker, huh? 'Sallright, I'm not one either. Can't stand to touch the stuff, but it's what the savages all use, so it's what we got sometimes."

"I'm hungry," Screwball replied. "And I'm bored of all the food I can make. I want new food."

Prairie Sunset blinked in confusion at the sudden topic shift, then accepted it. "Well, we got lotsa fresh grasses and flowers, all sortsa types."

"I can make grass. I can make flowers. I want something new."

"...I made up an apple tart for my daughter's birthday. We still got some left over. If'n you like I could sell it to you." 

"I can make apple tarts," Screwball said impatiently. "I want something I haven't had yet. Something new."

Prairie Sunset glanced at the little pantry shelf. There wasn't much there. Pioneer life was simple. "I got...I got a lemon?" She stopped, then realized the absurdity of the conversation. "Y'know, this ain't a restaurant, missy, this's our home an' we don' owe you nuttin an' we done you more'n anypony deserves just lettin' you rest here."

"Lemons aren't tasty. You're going to give me something new. I want you to give me something new."

"Well, missy, I don't wanna give you nothin' now."

"Hmph. We'll see about that. I bet I can..."

The stone atop the purple pony's hat began to glow brightly, and she lifted a few inches off the ground. She stuck out her tongue. Her right eye swirled.



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria.


Pinkie Pie lay on her back, rubbing her hind legs together. She let one leg rub against and over the stump of the other. She extended both legs. One touched the edge of her tent. The other didn't. She closed her eyes and tried to extend it further. She willed it to touch the tent. She desperately tried to feel the pressure of hoof against against taut canvas. Yet all she felt in the missing leg was a twisted, tight pain, as if the leg were crumpled beneath her body. She kicked the stump out a few times. It did nothing. The phantom leg still hurt. She grunted in frustration, and kicked wildly. Still nothing. She sat up and started hitting at the spot where her brain insisted the leg was. Her front hooves just bounced harmlessly off the cot. She hit again, and again. Nothing. She let out a sharp, angry little shriek, and then fell back on the bed. She shuddered in frustration, then sighed, and relaxed, resigning herself to the pain. Hopeless.

Phantom limb, they called it. Stupid limb, more like. The leg wasn't even there. How could it hurt? It wasn't even the stump hurting where the break had been; that pain was always there and it made sense. But occasionally feeling pain in places she didn't even have? The idea of it would have been funny if it wasn't so awful.

But she wasn't going to laugh about it. Nope. Nosiree. Not Pinkie Pie. Even if it was funny, she was going to be a grown-up mare and...and "acknowledge her bad feelings" or some silly thing like that. Ugh. Twilight and Celestia always said such silly things. Sigh. But when she didn't listen to them, she became an icky pony A CRAZY PONY and she did icky things CRAZY SCARY THINGS and then all of her friends died. HA HA THEY ALL DIED BECAUSE OF ME BECAUSE I COULDN'T HANDL--no. No. Calm down. It's okay. It's okay, Pinkie. Scary things did happen but I can accept that. It's scary but I'm not alone with it. Scary things did happen but I can accept that. It's scary but I'm not alone with it. Scary things did happen but I can accept that. It's scary but I'm not alone with it. 

There. Better. She sighed, then realized that she was curled up in a fetal ball on her cot. Her mane was damp with sweat. She stretched back out. Twilight was right: talking to herself may sound silly, but it worked. It calmed the bad thoughts down. She never felt relaxed like she used to, but...well, it was getting better. And it was getting easier to deal with the sudden attacks of the bad thoughts.

There was a voice at her tent. "Pinkie Pie, I need you to come to my tent at once." Celestia. And she didn't sound happy. The Princess would probably say something else to make the bad thoughts come back. But Pinkie could handle it. Because scary things happen but I can accept that. It's scary but I'm not alone with it. She ran the mantra through her head a few times, then rolled off the cot.



---

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia.


"What on Earth is goin' on," Prairie Sunset said, backing away from the floating pony. "Are ya some sorta demon or--"

"I don't know if this is gonna work," Screwball said, her mouth falling into a dull, static smile. "But here we go anyway! Knock knock!"

Prairie Sunset felt a pressure in the back of her mind. She put a hoof to her temple. Her head began to hurt. Then, in a snap, the pressure was relieved, and she felt something flooding into her consciousness. Images. Feelings. Thousands of images. Endless feelings. A torrent of thought; a whirlpool of emotion. She lost herself in the sea of potential. A voice like bells rang through her existence, though she hardly noticed it. Oops. Too much. That was dumb of me.

It all fell away. She was in a dark void. Nothing existed. She thought nothing. It was empty beyond understanding; even the idea of emptiness was gone. She stood silently for a second. Or for a century. She didn't know the difference. The voice came again. Ha ha ha. Way too little. I am really bad at this!

Prairie Sunset then felt a surge of emotion as a thousand joys sang through her mind.  Better, I guess. Wow. This is hard. Okay. Let's see. Hold on...oh, I know! She felt peace. She was lying in a bed. She looked down. Her newborn foal was in her arms. She was back in Appleoosa, before they had left. She nuzzled the infant, and whispered in its ear, "I will protect you. I will give you everything you need."

Then she was in the void again, empty but for the words she had just spoken. The single thought rang through space. She heard nothing but those words. She felt nothing but those words. She was nothing but those words. A minute or a lifetime went by. Ha ha. Okay! You can come back now!

The stone on the hat returned to normal. Screwball felt her mind closing to some semblance of normality. Prairie Sunset shook her head. She had such a headache all of a sudden, and no idea why. But...but that pony had asked for food, hadn't she? She looked at Screwball, and smiled generously. Of course she would give her new guest food. What kind of mother would she be if she didn't?

"What can I getcha?" she asked.

"Ha ha ha ha ha," Screwball laughed in bubbly delight. "I can't believe that actually worked! That's so cool. Oh, um, please give me something new. Something I haven't had yet. Something I don't know how to make!"

"Well, let's see what I got," Prairie Sunset replied. She turned to her little pantry shelf. "Hm. Well, I got this tart, I got a lemon, oh, and some honey too. Let's see what I can do for you."



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria.


Rainbow Dash lay on her back, her thin pillow over her face. Her eyes burned with exhaustion. She hadn't slept properly in...well, strictly speaking in months, but she had barely slept at all for weeks. All day she stumbled forward, operating purely on automatic instinct. All night she stared wide-eyed into the empty blackness until her eyes stung from being open, then shut them as tight as she could until they stung from being closed. And when she had free hours, she tried to sleep. Sometimes she did. Usually she didn't. And, sadly, today was like usual.

Her work was mostly easy, fortunately. There was plenty of it, but it didn't take any brainpower to fill out most paperwork, and the decisions she did have to make were gut decisions anyway. Maybe she was making bad decisions. But they seemed to work out all right so far. Like her system of village organization, where each redirected straggling soldiers they found to a village appointed as rally towns. That way, all they had to do each time the army moved was to send messengers to the rally towns. It was an obvious solution, of course, but when there isn't a system in place to address a given problem beforehand, sometimes a pony who comes up with an obvious solution is the right pony to have.

She rolled onto her side, keeping the pillow pressed over her face. Heh. "Can sometimes come up with obvious solutions." That's certainly a reason to be promoted to Colonel and given command of all cavalry of the Army of Central Equestria. Never mind that she had ruined both major battles practically by herself. Never mind that she was responsible for more dead cavalryponies than any gryphon could ever hope to be. Never mind that she had failed in every way imaginable at every moment of her military career. Nope. Lt. Dash nearly loses a battle and becomes Maj. Dash, and then Maj. Dash nearly loses a war and becomes Col. Dash. And it wasn't just Celestia refusing to acknowledge her failures, oh no. The army still loved her--and that was the worst part.

Her first failure ended up being seen by the common soldier as some brilliant display of courageous flying and take-charge leadership that saved the army from destruction. Her second failure, as near as she could tell, was being painted as a heroic and selfless last stand rather than as a pointless waste of lives. And then...ugh. Then there was the Elements thing, which of course only solidified her reputation as a hero. Her awful, horrible lie of a reputation.

But...well, it wasn't all bad. She didn't deserve it in the slightest, but she could use it. She cringed when the cavalry worshipped her as some sort of hero--but when she told them how to fly they took every word to heart, and when she told them to practice a maneuver, they'd do it until they were perfect. An approving word from Col. Dash was the most prized honor in the royal cavalry, and ponies would work themselves to exhaustion to get one. Everypony trained with astounding dedication, because everypony looked up to her. And sometimes--just sometimes, for a few minutes--she even let herself believe that she was worth looking up to. And Twilight did say she shouldn't be so hard on herself.

But Twilight never had to face failure. Twilight didn't have to watch an army crumble because of her orders. Twilight didn't have Spitfire's blood on her hooves--literally on her hooves, slick and warm and flowing and staining her powder-blue fur a deep, wet purple. Dash pulled the pillow tighter against her eyes. Maybe Twilight was right. Maybe she should let it all go. Maybe she'd be a better friend if she could make herself think she wasn't awful. Sure. Maybe. And maybe then she'd sprout a horn and become a Princess or something stupid like that.

"Rainbow Dash," a voice said, "I need your presence in my tent immediately." It was Celestia. Of course it was Celestia. It was always Celestia. She never thought she'd hate hearing that voice. She certainly never thought she'd hate it for being too supportive of her. She shook her head, bit her pillow, ground her teeth against its fabric, and then let the sweat-and-saliva-stained lump of cheap stuffing fall away.



---

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia.


Prairie Sunset set a plate in front of Screwball and shrugged. "Well, missy, it ain't much, but it's what I got. Here. Apple tart, with a lemon-honey glaze. Don't know'f it'll be good, but I hope ya like it innyway."

Screwball cocked her head as she inspected the pastry. "I said I wanted a new thing. This is things I know."

"Only so many ingredients in the world, an' fewer in my house." Prairie Sunset said, an unconcealed pain in her voice. "I can only do so much."

"Hm. You're right! There aren't many ingredients out there." Screwball scratched her head with a hoof. "I guess I never thought about that. Apple tarts are made from ingredients, right?"

"Yeah. They are. 'Course they are. That's kinda what 'ingredients' means. Stuff you make stuff outta." Prairie Sunset had given up on understanding the purple pony. She was like a child. She decided that was why she had such a strong desire to take care of her. Screwball did kind of remind her of her foal, but she couldn't put her hoof on why.

"But so are apple pies. And it's like the same ingredients? And they're so different! Ha ha. I just put that together! Ha ha ha." Screwball laughed, then abruptly stopped, and went face down in the tart. She ate it ravenously, then popped up with a huge smile.

"Didja like it, missy?"

"Yeah! It's weird. Like, I know lemons and honey and apple tarts, but I didn't know what they were like together. You can create new stuff by combining things!"

"Well, that's the secret'a cookin' if y'ask me."

"Hm," Screwball said. "You're a good pony. I like you!"

Prairie Sunset laughed. "Y'ain't too bad y'self, even if y'are a weird cookie."

Screwball licked her lips, then suddenly looked at Prairie Sunset. "Hey," she said, "can you tell me what a map does?"



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria.


Fluttershy walked through the camp, her head held low. She hated being out. Everypony looked at her. Everypony knew she was a coward. Everypony knew she had abandoned everypony else. Everypony knew she didn't deserve to be head medic. They knew even if they didn't tell her--even if they insisted they were glad to see her--even if they insisted she was amazingly talented, and that she had an astounding knowledge of field-treating wounds, and that she was fearless under fire. They knew. How could they trust her? They couldn't, of course. She had only been in a few tiny skirmishes. That didn't make up for her desertion. She didn't know if she ever could make up for it.

She entered Celestia's tent. The other five ponies were already in a tight semicircle around the Princess. Celestia acknowledged her arrival with a nod, then motioned for her to sit down. Fluttershy quietly crept in and sat between Rainbow Dash and Rarity.

Celestia began speaking before Fluttershy had finished sitting down. She spoke in a calm but authoritative tone. "Dear ponies, I've called you here because I've learned something of enormous importance. I have been in contact with the Sublime Council of the Zebra Tribes, and have come to believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that the planned Gryphonic plot on my life is orders of magnitude more dangerous than we previously believed. It threatens my life in a real and dire way, it certainly threatens your life, and it quite possibly threatens the life of any other pony you care to name. The Gryphons have, likely unwittingly, unleashed a force of near-unlimited magical power."

"Some background is in order. At one time, I knew a filly named Topsy-Turvy. She had lost her parents in an accident, and became a ward of the state. She wasn't particularly bright or particularly talented--she was not what you six would believe to be a clever pony--but she had a strange and cheerful view of the world, and had a particular creativity I appreciated. I took a personal liking to her, and let her live with me. She was well taken care of: I educated her, I fed her and clothed her as if she were of my blood, and I arranged for her to play with the colts and fillies of the magic kindergarten. She was quite happy."

"Then Discord came. He thought it would be amusing to...corrupt my little friend. When he found her, she was a mentally limited filly surrounded by magical unicorns. He decided to make her one of the most mentally capable beings in existence. In her mind he opened a connection to the Flow--the primal source of all magic--that was nearly unlimited. Her mind couldn't handle it, of course. Topsy-Turvy was wiped away entirely and immediately. She ceased to be the delightful little girl I knew, and became a sick mockery of a god. He gave her the name "Screwball." I do not know what has happened to her since. At first I assumed she had died, but I would get occasional reports of her existence--and I always told whoever brought me the report to forget that they had ever seen her. She was a twisted, miserable, but harmless creature--so long as she was unprovoked. And so I let her be."

"The Gryphons found her. How, I do not know. They also found an ancestral treasure of theirs, the Occultation: a device that cancels out magic, once wielded against our armies. The Gryphons seem to have intended to use it to nullify my magic and Luna's magic, allowing their assassins to kill us. I do not understand how or why Screwball ended up in possession of the Occultation, but she now has it. And that means she can choose to be a normal mare, or a goddess insane with her own power, or anything in between."

"However, despite her power, her mental level is roughly that of a child, as is her emotional maturity. What's more, she seems to completely lack any sort of conscience or any sort of awareness of others as valuable beings. She is not evil. She is worse. She is pure impulse, unrestrained by knowledge or by morality or by emotion or by physical possibility. She has no qualms about killing others. She may not even understand the concept of death. She can and will destroy anything or anypony that happens to be in the way of whatever she decides to do. She can and will do so instantly and effortlessly."

"And, for one of any number of possible reasons, she has decided to find me and kill me."

The room was silent.

Applejack spoke first. "...and...y'all want us to stop her? With that magic of friendship thing?"

Celestia shook her head. "I doubt that is possible. The Occultation can nullify all magic, and the Elements of Harmony are nothing if not magic. No. I will return to Canterlot, so that Screwball might find me without having to tear a path of death through Equestria. And I will attempt to speak with her if I can, and will attempt to defend myself if I can. And if I cannot do either, I will die, as will Luna, and there is little that can be done."

"But...then...why..." Applejack looked helplessly at the Princess.

"Applejack, I am telling all of this to you six because I need there to be somepony who is prepared to lead Equestria when Luna and I are dead."



---

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia.


"Huh!" Screwball said. "So...the map is like a picture of the ground, like a pegasus would see it if she were really high up."

"Yep! Exactly," Prairie Sunset said.

"Ha ha, that makes sense! And this way is north, and then this way is south, and that means the sun rises over here, right?"

"Other side, hon. In the east."

"Really?" Screwball screwed up her face. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Gotcha."

Prairie Sunset nodded maternally. "There ya go."

"Thanks for all the help," Screwball said as she rolled the map up. She slid it into her grotesque bag. "You're real helpful. I like you a lot. You're probably my favorite pony I know outside of my dad."

The pioneer pony laughed breezily. "You ain't so bad y'self, missy. You want somethin' to eat on the way?"

"Nah. I can make all sorts of food now that I know I can put different things together!"

"...uh, how'd ya used to make stuff without puttin' it together?"

"Magic." She grabbed the strap of the bag in her teeth and tossed it over her shoulder.

"Y'ain't a unicorn, kid."

"Like this," she said. She stuck out her tongue. Prairie Sunset's door suddenly turned into a cascade of warm sweetrolls. Screwball giggled as Prairie Sunset's mouth fell open in shock. "But that's not how I usually get rid of bad ponies, because you can just transform things back if I transform them. I crush them and then reshape them so they're totally dead."

Prairie Sunset was stone silent. 

"Ha ha ha," Screwball bubbled, "you're silly. You were so fast talking, and you're all quiet now! I would turn you into something as a joke, but I like you too much the way you are. Maybe I'll visit you someday! I think I can probably teleport myself places but I don't really know how yet. It seems kinda dangerous to experiment with. Maybe I'll try teleporting other ponies first! Yeah, that'll be what I do. So, um, if you see a pony suddenly appear in your house and he's inside out, it's just because I'm practicing, okay?"

Prairie Sunset didn't move.

"Well! Bye! And thanks for the tart even though I kinda made you give it to me. If I see your husband I'll try to send him home for you! "

Screwball hopped over the pile of sweetrolls, and cheerfully skipped down the dirt path leading away from the house.
> XXX. Mt. Kali'gryph / Central Equestria. June, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mt. Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. June, 1252.

Dust swirled in the sparse shafts of light illuminating the enormous, spartan chamber. The former Zebra ambassador to Equestria bowed low before the Gryphon King.

"Your Dreadful Majesty," he intoned, his front legs splayed, his head resting on the ground, "Most High and Most Powerful, Rightful Lord and Sovereign of the North, whose name I am not worthy to know. This humble zebra comes to Your Glory in a spirit of ancestral brotherhood."

"Lord Bakora," the ancient gryphon wheezed, "this breach of our standing arrangement is unexpected. Ambassador Radako is the one and only zebra I have decided to allow into my innermost circle. In this time of great struggle, I do not understand why the Sublime Council has chosen to replace her with a zebra that has been an...intimate of the Pony Queen."

"Your Dreadful Majesty," Bakora replied, head still against the ground, "I have indeed been posted in the court of Canterlot, and have always had the interests of my people and my tribe as my one, singular, and only priority. The Sublime Council of the Zebra Tribes has seen fit to reassign me to Your Glory's court."

The Gryphon King raised an eyebrow in amusement. "So the zebras presume to dictate to me who I may and may not confer with. And tell me, zebra, what if I tell you that I will have no zebra but Radako in my presence?"

"Then, Your Dreadful Majesty, the diplomatic relationship between the Crown of Gryphonia and the Sublime Council of the Zebra Tribes will be at an end. Lady Radako has been recalled to Punda-Milia, and will not be reassigned for further duties until she stands trial before the Elder Circle of the Council. If Your Dreadful Majesty refuses to speak with me, then he refuses to speak with the Tribes."

"Ah...so that is how it is," the king said as he leaned back in his simple throne. "My zebra confidant has been recalled and put on trial. I have been given a member of the Pony Queen's court instead. This is certainly a shift in our relationship, ambassador. May I ask what has prompted such a change?"

The ambassador rose to his feet and looked the Gryphon King in the eye. The king cocked his head at the breach of protocol. The Zebra suppressed a snort.

"You lied to us."



---


North of Everfree Forest, Equestria. June, 1252.


The six ponies sat around the campfire, watching the tongues of flame twist and tumble.

"She can't be serious," Rarity said. "She's...she's the Princess, for sanity's sake. The Princess can't die."

"I don't see why not," Twilight Sparkle replied, her voice dead. "She's a pony. She doesn't get sick or get old, but she's still a pony."

"But...but she simply can't, Twilight darling! How could we go on?" Rarity stared at the flame, rather than looking at the pony she was talking to.

"The same way we go on now, I guess. Only...only  I guess we have to do what she does, too. I don't really know how that would work. At all. But...I mean, we can't be princesses. Can we? But Celestia said we would take over if she died. That must mean she trusts that we'd be able to take over, right?" A glimmer of hope crept into her eyes.

Applejack looked around at her friends. She bit her lip, wondering if she should talk. She teetered on the edge of speaking, wrangling with herself, for a silent minute. Finally, she released her fear and spoke up: "Twi'. I took over runnin' Sweet Apple Acres when I was practically still a filly. I wasn't ready for that any more'n I was ready to win a flyin' competition, but Granny Smith told me she believed  in me. She knew I was probably gonna mess up somethin' awful--and now 'n' then I sure as heck did--but she also knew she didn't have much choice in the matter. So she said she had faith in me, 'cause believin' in myself might help me do a better job. And darn it if it didn't work."

"Gals," she continued, "We ain't ready to lead a country. Shoot, we ain't even ready to do what we're doin' now. But it ain't about whether we're ready. It's about whether we're gonna step up and do it even if everythin' we know is tellin' us we can't. So, no. Princess Celestia don't think we can take over nothin', 'cause everythin' she knows is tellin' her we can't, too. But we might have to, and if and when the apples all fall to the ground, well, we gotta try to pick 'em up even if we can't do it."

Rainbow Dash crossed her front legs and looked at the ground. "Thanks for the inspirational words, AJ," she muttered. "No wonder your soldiers are always so brave."

"Darn it," Applejack replied, smacking a front hoof against the ground. "That ain't fair, Dash. Yeah, okay, maybe I ain't been the greatest pony in the world at knowin' when to tell who what. Maybe ol' Applejack's just too dang simple to know how to empty the heads of a hundred ponies for their own good. Maybe you can't trust me to calm scared ponies down. But the way I look at it, it ain't no responsibility of mine to empty your head. We ain't soldiers who just gotta stand still and do what they're told. We gotta lead. And you can't lead if you're hidin' from the truth."

Applejack's mouth and eyes were twitching. She was holding back anger. Or tears. Or both. Rainbow Dash glanced around the fire. She had regretted her comment immediately after saying it, and was now praying nobody turned the same level of scrutiny on her past actions. They never brought up each other's failures, and she knew hers were worse than anypony else's. Her heart raced as the silence mounted. Her muscles tightened. Surely, somepony would bring up that she wasn't one to talk. Somepony would say it. They must all be thinking it. Eventually Twilight Sparkle cleared her throat. Dash's breath stopped. Her heart stopped, too.

"You're right, AJ. Yeah. You're right." Twilight spoke sadly, her little shadow of hope gone. Dash's body relaxed. "She doesn't think we can do it. And we probably can't. But if she dies...well...then we'll have to do it somehow. We might as well get used to the fact."

They all sighed. A tear ran down Pinkie Pie's face.

"Um, if I can say something," Fluttershy said in her soft half-whisper, "I just wanted to say you're all really brave ponies. This is a really big thing you're dealing with. I wish I were that brave."

They blinked in confusion.

"Fluttershy, dear," Rarity said, "the Princess did not exclude you. You are also expected to lead Equestria...um. In the unlikely event of her death, of course."

"Well," she said matter-of-factly, "she didn't mean it. She was just including me to make me feel included. And even if she did mean it, I'm not really dealing with it that well. I'm not--oh, what's the word--I'm not accepting it. I'm just showing up and pretending I do. I'm not brave like you."

"That's what bravery is, Fluttershy," Applejack said, in a tone of voice bordering between conciliatory and frustrated. "You don't have to pretend it ain't bad or that you're okay with it. You just have to show up and do what you got to do even though you're dyin' on the inside."

"Well, uh...I don't know if I'll keep doing that. Um, you know, doing that forever. I don't think I can."

"You ain't plannin' on bailin' on your friends again." Applejack didn't phrase it as a question. "I know you ain't."

"No, of course not!" The pegasus seemed shocked by the suggestion. "I could never do that again!"

"Well," the farm pony shrugged. "Then you'll keep on doin' what you got to do, alongside us, 'cause doin' that and runnin' away are the only two options any of us got."

"Oh." She lowered her head. Her hair fell in front of her face. "I see. So...so does that make me a brave pony too?"

"Yes," Twilight Sparkle said, with little emotion behind the words.

They stared at the fire.

Behind them, Celestia approached.

---


Mount Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia


The king chuckled, in a voice sounding more like dry coughing than laughter. "Watch yourself, zebra. No matter how hot-blooded you may be at this moment, surely your Council does not wish to tie its fate to a demonic Queen in exile and her cross-eyed bandit princess."

"We do not want war. We want an explanation for the deception."

"For a nation that doesn't want war, you certainly are striking a presumptuous drumbeat. Recalling my trusted Radako without consulting me? Sending in her place a zebra from the Pony Queen's court--who has come to accuse me of deception, no less? Be mindful of your station, savanna beast, lest we decide our ancestral homeland should be ours again."

"Our actions are unexceptional in the face of an exceptional situation. I understand your reliance on her judgment and perspective in matters regarding our mutual relationship, but Lady Radako is implicated in this affair as well. She cannot very well investigate a situation she had a hand in creating. I was the diplomatic agent located most closely to your kingdom. Once the situation is resolved, we may then return to the status quo."

The king ground his beak in contemplation, then spoke. "This...may require some time, ambassador. I will give you unrestricted access to my internal communications regarding recent events. Please, come with me. We may speak in the Room of Records."

He rose to his feet with a surprising quickness, and began walking towards the exit of the hall without another word. After he passed the ambassador, the zebra turned and followed the king silently.



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria. June, 1252.


"I understand you are upset by this news, my little ponies." Celestia spoke softly, but the ponies still jumped at the sound of her voice. "My rule has been the one thing ponies could rely on for far, far longer than any of you can trace your family histories. But all things pass in time. I did not always rule ponies. I will not always rule ponies. And if I die, then I die glad that my rule has largely been a peaceful one, and I die with earnest hope for the future you will shape."

"But...but Princess," Twilight said. "I don't understand. None of us do. Why can't you...just...I don't know. Go somewhere? Have us fight her? Fight her yourself? I don't know! Something! Please!"

Celestia shook her head. "My death is not assured, Twilight Sparkle. I have no desire to die. I will do everything in my power to live. I am very old, very powerful, and very persuasive, and Screwball is unpredictable in many ways. It is very possible that I will live. But it is also possible that she will kill me--it may even be likely--and fleeing or sending others in my stead would only change the place and time of our confrontation. When you have lived over a thousand years, Twilight Sparkle, it is not worth sending hundreds or thousands of ponies to oblivion simply to extend your life by a few days."

"But why do we have to take over?! Why not Luna? I don't understand. Why are you leaving us?"

"Twilight Sparkle, Luna stood alongside me during both imprisonments of Discord. I am not certain what Screwball's motivation is, but whatever it is, it would almost certainly apply to Luna as well. Better she stand with me again than wait for Screwball to seek her individually. Besides..." Her voice softened to a near whisper. "She is my sister. We are very, very close. Closer than any ponies that have ever lived, and in ways you cannot comprehend. She could no more let me die than your left hoof could let your right hoof die."

Celestia shook her head. Her flowing mane was unaffected by the motion. She resumed a voice of quiet command. "You must accept the possibility of my death. Arguing will not change it. Begging will not change it. You must accept it and keep moving forward, in the hopes that I will live, but with the understanding that you may be called on to take my place."

Twilight began to cry. Her red, stinging eyes again flooded with tears, though she had shed so many already. "I don't want you to die. I need you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Celestia smiled down as she walked over to the little unicorn. "Twilight Sparkle. Oh, Twilight Sparkle. My faithful student. The greatest of all my proteges. A pony with unlimited potential and unlimited devotion. The first with the ability to surpass her master. The first to watch the world crumble before her eyes. And, just possibly, the first to be free of me." Celestia nuzzled her student. Twilight wept into Celestia's fur. "There is something deeply poetic in it. A teacher is supposed to prepare the next generation to be greater than she was. But yet when I teach, my students grow old and die in my shadow. Now that I finally have a student with the potential to be greater than me...heh. I find she may, indeed, be the next generation. Such a blessing. Such a bitter blessing."

The others watched in discomfort.



---


Mt. Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia

"The first thing you must understand, Ambassador Bakora, is that the Pony Queen is a demon, and I do not exaggerate. She has ruled for over a thousand years, and with each year she has gotten better at ruling. There is now very little she does not control in her realm. From her tower in Canterlot she sees everything the sun touches. With limitless cunning and patience she creates endlessly intricate plans. In one way or another, she shapes the life of every pony--and for many ponies the level of control is shocking. The lives of those closest to her are orchestrated with unerring precision, to the extent that they are more puppets than persons--"

"--I am well aware of Celestia's influence over her realm, though I do think--" The zebra attempted to interject. The king ignored it.

"--This is the pony way of doing things. Everything must be controlled. Nothing must live on its own. It is regimented. It is lifeless. It is a waking death. And, sadly, it is enormously effective. Whether we talk of farmers or of traders, a pony outproduces his counterparts. I admit that the Pony Queen is not an expansionist by character--but yet because of her, pony lands expand without limit. If she is not stopped, the entire world in all its splendor and beauty will become a garden run by ponies, and in the great pony garden all other races will become dependent on ponies for their existence. She must die. Only by killing her can ponies be made to abandon their control of nature. Only by killing her we return ponykind to the community of races living among nature rather than enslaving it. Only by killing her can we safeguard our lands from slow but inevitable conquest by ponies. Her death is not a means by which we hope to win this war. Her death is the only acceptable outcome of this war."

"Your Dreadful Majesty," the zebra replied, "you promised an explanation of why you lied to the Sublime Council repeatedly. Explaining that you wish to kill the Pony Que--Princess Celestia does not tell us anything we did not already know. You told us that the Occultation was a purely defensive relic--an ancestral treasure of your family--and that you wished it only to defend yourself against a phantom scheme of Celestia's. Our historians agreed with your analysis about the relic. But yet you gave it to a pony who has used it to launch a campaign of random murder--one apparently aimed at eventually killing Celestia."

"I did not lie," the king responded testily. "This war is fundamentally defensive. Everything I do in this war is defensive. Assassinating the Pony Queen is a legitimate defense of Gryphonia."

Bakora didn't bother concealing his disappointment. "I will give you another chance, Your Dreadful Majesty. Again: you informed us that you wanted a Gryphonic relic to defend yourself against Celestia's magic. We assisted your agents in recovering it. And the result has been the creation of a murderously insane god. And again: the issue is not that you want to kill Celestia. The issue is that you unleashed an unstoppable killer in our lands after promising you wanted only a defensive tool."

"I could not possibly have forseen that particular outcome," the king said, nearly shouting. "Yes, I did plan to assassinate the Pony Queen. No, I did not plan for Screwball to become so dangerous."

"...then why, might I ask, did you send the pony with your agents? Why, if not for her to get the Occultation? Why, if not for her to become that--that dark goddess?"

"She told me I should," the king growled, as if it explained anything.



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria. June, 1252.


Celestia took a step backwards, and Twilight sat down reluctantly. The princess looked at the six ponies in turn. "You are all capable of growing into such responsibility," she said. "I have full faith that you will. You will learn to lead. And you will learn, again, how to work together. And your first opportunity for both has come."

"We are, as you must be aware, two days' march away from a point where we might launch an attack on a gryphon army encampment. Given the recent redeployment of the Gryphonic forces--for which we must thank General Hooves' Army of Northern Equestria--a victory would give us a clear path towards Canterlot. Once we arrive at Canterlot, I will turn control of the army over to Field Marshal Sparkle. Luna and I will then begin preparing for Screwball. I expect that you six will begin gathering your strength to prepare to re-enter the war in full."

"But, Your Majesty," Applejack said. "That hardly makes any sense. Er, if you pardon my tone, Your Majesty. But won't the gryphons come after us--after you--if we go to Canterlot? We couldn't possibly hold them all off. Isn't that why we stayed away in the first place?"

Rarity chuckled. "Come now, Col. Apple. If any of the gryphons were to move towards Canterlot, they would be leaving the Army of Northern Equestria in their rear and directly across their supply line. They would be open to attack, and they would be unable to feed themselves. It would be suicide. They may want to come after us, but they can't." She thought for a second, then shook her mane lightly. "Though I cannot believe I am about to say this, it seems that we are going to be acting under the presumption that Derpy Hooves will keep us safe."

"Indeed," Celestia replied. "Quite perceptive, Col. Rarity. I am truly impressed with how well you six have mastered your fields of study, especially given how limited your opportunities for practice have been. I expect you will each be demonstrating this level of strategic competence when planning the campaign that will take us to Canterlot."

"Does...um...does that mean we're taking over now, Princess? That we're--"

"--yes, Twilight," Celestia interrupted. "I have a small affair I must attend to, and will not be present over the next two days. Luna, of course, will be present, but she and I are in agreement  that you six require experience more than you require advice."

"You're just tellin' us like that?!" Applejack spat out. "Er, Your Majesty, of course. But there've been a bunch of sudden spurs to the flank over the past few days. It ain't like you to just keep springin' this kinda news on us. I mean, first ya told us we gotta move out, then that you might die, and now that you're just up and leavin' on us. This whole thing is stranger 'n a five-legged frog...sigh. Your Majesty."

"It's all right, Applejack, that kind of formality is unnecessary in private." Celestia said with a fleeting smile, before resuming her serious demeanor. "And I apologize for the rate at which I have been...accelerating your development. I truly do. But events often move more quickly than one expects, and in directions one had hoped they would not. If you have questions, Luna can answer them. If you need advice, you may advise each other. I will return shortly."

The Princess turned to her student. "Well, then. You're in command."

Twilight looked around in bewilderment. "Wait--what? Princess? ...Just like that? That's it? No...nothing special?"

"We'll do a proper ceremony in Canterlot," Celestia said in a hushed voice. "But most ceremonies are just for appearances anyway, and there's no time right now."

Twilight stared. "Um...thank you?"

A white hoof tapped impatiently on the ground. "Take command."

"Oh! I..I am ready to relieve you, Your Majesty," Twilight offered.

"I am ready to be relieved," Celestia said firmly.

"I...relieve you? Your Majesty?" The words felt strange leaving her mouth. Just words. Words that tumbled out and vanished into the night. Words that meant nothing to her, yet words that transferred a burden she was only beginning to understand.

"I stand relieved. You have command of the army, Field Marshal."

Celestia saluted. Twilight returned the salute with an unsure hoof. And the Princess turned away, the firelight flashing in her flowing mane. She extended her wings, closed her eyes, and--with a brilliant flash of light--disappeared into the night.

The six ponies sat, eyes wide with confusion, bodies rigid with shock.
> XXXI. South of Canterlot, Equestria. June, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The candles had burned down to flickering stumps of wax.

“Pinkie, that doesn't even begin to make sense,” Rainbow Dash said, more exhausted than irritated.  “Dressing up like a gryphon won't fool any of them. You need to take this seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously,” Pinkie muttered under her breath. “You don't need to be mean about it.”

“If that's serious, Pinkie, you're seriously in over your head here.” Dash shook her head. “We don't need any weird trick things. Luna always tried trick things and they never worked. We don't need you to be random. We just need some competent leadership.”

Pinkie glared. “Competent? Competent? Hm. Hey, Applejack, didn't you ever wonder why Luna's plans never worked,” she said, her voice icy. “Maybe somepony wasn't a competent leader.” She tossed her head in Dash's direction as she spoke.

“I was trying to save you! I tried--” Dash began to yell.

“--I was trying to tell 'em the truth, then I was tryin' to keep 'em calm!” Applejack shouted over everypony else.

Pinkie immediately put a hoof over her own mouth. “No, no, Applejack, I didn't mean you, I--”

“--and it ain't like you've been perfect yourself, for that matter. Heck no, you ain't been perfect.  I made mistakes,  but at least I kept my apples in one bushel the whole time. It's downright mean of you to go an' suggest that I'm the reason--”

“--No, no, Applejack, no, no, no, no, no, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean you, I was trying—hey! What's that with the apples in a--THAT'S NOT FAIR! I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT YOU AND YOU'RE GOING TO SAY I'M CRAZY? I--”

“Er, dears, I think perhaps we've lost sight of...” Rarity began, then trailed off as she realized nopony was listening.

Rainbow Dash shrank down, relieved that Applejack and Pinkie Pie were going at each other, yet dreading the possibility that once they'd resolved the misunderstanding they'd turn their cannons on her. She knew she deserved it. She knew she was being too harsh with her friends. Still, she couldn't stop.

“Didn't say nothin' 'bout me? You picked me out by name, outta nowhere, and said I ruined both battles? Why, if anyone's gone around ruinin' battles, it's--”

“QUIET!” A voice tore through the tent, its vocal cords straining. Every other pony snapped their attention to its source. “...um, please.”

“But, I--” Pinkie began to say. Fluttershy shook her head gently. Pinkie stopped immediately.

“I think we should work together a little bit better,” Fluttershy said. “You aren't acting like very good friends.”

Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack each looked embarrassed, though to differing extents.

“Thank you, Fluttershy,” Twilight sighed. “I'm glad to have you back. Dealing with this has just been awful at times.”

“Oh, has it now?” Rarity asked, her voice painfully sweet. “It's ever so sweet how you're always willing to tell us exactly how we aren't living up to the example of the great General Sparkle. But why has it been awful? I do find myself wondering about that. Hmm. Ah! Perhaps it has been awful because some ponies have had to deal with awful things other ponies haven't! Yes, that does seem quite like the case, wouldn't you all agree?”

Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack each glared at Rarity. There was silence. Twilight bit her lip. Fluttershy looked unnerved; she felt the sudden energy in the room but didn't quite understand where it was coming from.

“What...some ponies...have had to deal with,” Applejack said, slowly. “What some ponies have had to deal with. Some ponies like...you?”

Pinkie didn't say a word. Her eyes were narrow slits of anger.

Dash fought the temptation to speak. She knew she would regret it. She knew it wouldn't help anything. But...but she knew she had to say something. It would drive her mad to say nothing. It would—yes. She would say something. Something reserved. Something mature, that would express her feelings in a constructive way that would reflect well on her character. Something--

“The only 'awful' thing you--you unicorns have to deal with is papercuts on your lips when you're filling out your little forms,” Dash sneered, as her emotional core flooded with a sensation of triumphant victory—but as the back of her mind recoiled in horror. She continued: “Oh, huh, you don't even have to worry about that, because of your little horns. What an inspiration you are.” She smirked in satisfaction. Then, the cold joy washed away, and she remembered herself. Oh, what the buck did I just say, she winced.

“Oh—oh, no,” Fluttershy said softly, as Rarity's face contorted with rage.

“You're right,” Twilight suddenly interjected. “You're all right. Rarity, you're right that I haven't had to face the same things you all have had to. I have many responsibilities of my own, but I haven't dealt with what you have. And I know that you've had to see things and do things that hurt you.” She spoke hurriedly. “Rainbow Dash and Applejack, you're right. Front-line officers have had to watch and do things nopony can watch or do. We all know what you three have suffered through, and we can never know what it's like to suffer through it. And that goes double for you, Pinkie Pie.” She spoke quickly, turning to each pony in turn. 

The tension in the room subsided a bit.

“But we can't get hung up on that,” Twilight continued, now speaking in a soothing-but-firm voice. “We can't. This isn't about who isn't respecting whom. This isn't about who's being hypocritical, or about who's to blame for what. We need to work together.”

“So now you're the Princess,” Rainbow Dash scoffed.

“No, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said deliberately. “We all are.  All six of us. And we need to work together. My job isn't to command you like Celestia did. It's to coordinate and organize us. All of us. I'm reminding you, as a friend, how we've worked best together—when everypony listens.”

There was a brief pause. Twilight looked at the array of irritated faces, a hopeful smile on her own face.

“Shucks, Twi',” Applejack said. “You're right and we know it. I forgive y'all, and I ask ya to forgive me back.”

“Oh, Applejack!” Pinkie said. “I really didn't mean to hurt you! And Rainbow Dash, I did kinda mean to hurt you, and I'm really sorry about that. That was super mean of me and I shouldn't do that to my friends.”

Rainbow Dash bit her lip, her eyes flicking back and forth across the table. Everypony looked at her. She pursed her lips, then exhaled sharply. “Sorry,” she said at last. “To all of you. I'm a jerk sometimes. I know it. I shouldn't be. And I'm sorry.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Fluttershy said grinning. “I'm so glad to hear all of that!”

“Me too,” Twilight said. “I'm truly proud that all of us can put our differences behind us.” Five ponies looked  at each other in relief. Pinkie limped over and hugged Applejack. So did Rainbow Dash. Fluttershy leapt into the hug. Twilight shrugged, and came over.

“Ex-cuse me,” Rarity shouted. “I believe that somepony here has neither apologized nor been forgiven!”

“Then apologize,” Applejack said from the middle of the group hug. “We ain't stoppin' ya.”

“All right, good. I apologize to everypony for everything. Now forgive me, please.”

“Nope,” Pinkie said.

A sudden icy silence gripped the room.

“Just kidding! Ha ha ha. I wish I had seen the look on your face.”

“Don't joke 'bout that,” Applejack said quietly.


---

The eastern sky was a slowly lightening purple as the the pre-dawn twilight crept across Equestria. Inside the tent, the six ponies looked over their map with bloodshot eyes.

“So,” Twilight said, “Let's recap. We don't have any artillery, and few line soldiers. We've managed to recover most of the surviving cuirassers and lancers survivors from the last battle, but few have their cuirasses, so we'll make them all lancers. So the plan is simple: a standard hammer-and-anvil. Rainbow Dash's lancers achieve control of the air while Applejack's infantry engage the lions. Then Dash circles around and hits the rear of the enemy lines before our  line infantry break. Clean and simple.”

“Simple's good,” Applejack said.

“The sky'll be ours before you slowpokes are even in position,” Rainbow Dash winked.

“I don't like it,” Pinkie muttered. “I don't get to do anything.”

“You're our reserves, Pinkie,” Twilight said. “I'll need your mobility to respond to unforeseen threats.”

“See! You'll need. You'll decide! You just don't trust me, do you? You think I'm too crazy to make decisions! You never understand me, but that doesn't mean I don't know what to do!” 

“It's not that, Pinkie, I—”

“—you think old Pinkie Pie's just nuts, don't you? Ha ha, can't trust her, she's a crazy pony!” She crossed her eyes and let her mouth hang open.

“Pinkie, please don't be resentful. It isn't personal. I need reserves and--”

“--well! I'll do exactly what you need me to do right now, and won't do anything crazy at all. Nope! NOTHING!” She spun around, and walked out of the tent, her head held high. Fluttershy squeaked, then followed Pinkie out.

Twilight shook her head, and then went back to drawing.

---


Fluttershy ran up alongside Pinkie Pie. “What are you going to do,” she asked breathlessly.

“I'm gonna surrender to the gryphons,” she said grimly.

“But—but you can't do that! You can't just--”

“--I know,” she said. "I'll need armor for all my soldiers first. Proper armor. Rarity has lots of extras. Can you help me get some? She likes you better than me. Go tell her you want five hundred sets of armor for your medics. Tell her that you're scared they'll get hurt or something.”

“Oh, um, Pinkie Pie, I don't even have two hundred medics, and armor isn't a good idea for a medic anyway.”

“C'mon, use your noodle, Flutters. Do you think she knows anything about anything that isn't all about her? Rarity has her head so far up her own flank you could tell her—tell her—oh, I don't know, that you need a thousand cannons to launch your medics at wounded soldiers or something dumb like that and she'd believe you. Now go. Go get me some armor. And tell her you're not too picky, okay? You have to do that.”

“But, um—you want to surrender? I can't—“

“—DO IT, FLUTTERSHY! TRUST ME!”

“Um. Um. Um. Um. Um.”

“I'm your friend. Good ol' Auntie Pinkie Pie. You gotta trust me, Flutters. I'm a pony who knows all the angles, remember? Trust me. I'm gonna surrender and it'll work out great and everyone'll say you did a great job helping me.”

“Oh, I--”

“Fluttershy. I know you know I'm trustworthy. So do the right thing. I gotta go prepare. Bring the armor to my camp in thirty minutes.” With that, the pink pony kicked off her little gray prosthetic leg, and limped off towards her camp, leaving the fake limb lying in the mud.

Fluttershy looked around nervously, seeing if there was anypony else who might have heard them.


---


Pinkie Pie limped through the woods, her battered and torn breastplate hanging loosely around her chest. Walking on three legs was tiring. She kept her head up. She occasionally felt the unsettling perception of her missing phantom “limb” passing through a rock or log she was climbing over. She tried to ignore that feeling. Repeating her little mantra helped.

Behind her, her soldiers marched along in their ill-fitting and dented armor. They had smeared their faces with dirt and spit, and most had dabbed their eyes with hot sauce. They looked awful, even in the dawn haze. They looked perfect.

A voice rang out. “Halt! You are surrounded!”

“We shurrender,” Pinkie said wearily, the lumps under her tongue making it hard to speak. “We've been out here for weeksh. Pleesh, let ush shurrender.”

“Disarm yourselves and prepare to be taken prisoner,” the voice demanded.

Pinkie paused a second. “All right, girlsh. Take off your armor. It'sh okay. They won't hurt ush. They jusht want to make sure we can't fight them.”

The pink pony shrugged off her own armor amid the sound of hundreds of breastplates and helmets hitting the ground. The woods rustled with gryphon wings. Pinkie smiled to herself.


---


The morning sun cast a fresh light across the tree-speckled field. The Gryphonic detachment was already well prepared for the arrival of the ponies: it was aggressively deployed, its gryphon cavalry ready to strike out at a moment's notice, its cannon in a tight, undefended grand battery, its infantry in mobile formations ready to advance.

“Keep it together,” Applejack called to her soldiers as they walked forward. “Everypony keep it together. We'll be in cannon range in a minute, so y'all need to keep loose ranks. Don't get too cozy with your neighbor or you'll be playin' catch with a cannonball. And don't close up 'till you hear the whistle, even if you see beaks comin' at us. The flygirls'll keep the birds off us. Now, the lions, they'll probably outflank us. Keep it together, because when they do that they'll be exposin' themselves to our cavalry.” She didn't know if anypony was listening to her speak. She didn't care. It was reassuring to tell the truth again.

Above them, the Equestrian lancers shot through the air, a tell-tale rainbow trail behind the lead pony. Applejack smiled. Like her, Rainbow Dash insisted on leading from the front. Atta gal. Don't send anypony to do anything you wouldn't do yourself. 



Rainbow Dash squinted against the onrushing wind as her wings beat against the air. The cloud of Gryphonic cavalry wasn't any bigger than her own—and if she had proven anything in this war, it was that a pegasus trained and led by Rainbow Dash was better in a fight than any gryphon. She smiled, and the wind rushed into her mouth, puffing out her cheeks.

The gryphon cloud began to break into attack wedges, keeping tight formation to ward off Dash's massed lancer charges. Rainbow Dash blew her whistle, and her cavalry broke into diamonds of one hundred ponies each. This was a new trick she had come up with; a diamond should let them reorganize and change direction easily, while still providing most of the massed shock force of her customary cone formation. Well, she thought, time to see if this idea works. She extended her lance. The gryphon cavalry were less than a minute away.

Below, she heard the Gryphonic cannon erupt. Hope Applejack can keep her ponies in the fight long enough for me to—wait, what? A tearing, screeching noise filled her ears, before erupting in a crack that rattled her wings. She looked behind her in time to see a dozen ponies fall out of formation, ropes of blood falling out of their bodies.




Twilight Sparkle felt sick as she watched the bursting flowers of smoke in the sky. She recognized that smoke pattern. She knew that shell. She had designed it, months ago, as an anti-cavalry weapon—a shrapnel shell designed to go off at a certain altitude. It was a miracle of techno-magical design; she had been so proud when she told Celestia about them. The army had made hundreds of them, but had barely used them before they were captured with the rest of the Equestrian artillery. And, of course, the activator wasn't magical, so anypony could use them. That was the part she was proudest of.

And now her brainchildren were exploding above her, their shards of cruel metal ripping pegasus ponies apart. The Equestrian cavalry broke formations, spread out, and began retreating straight upwards. They did it all at once—clearly Dash had ordered it. A reasonable response, Twilight thought. Tight formations were suicide near those shells, and loose formations were suicide near gryphonic formations. But with the Equestrian cavalry out of the picture until the enemy artillery was neutralized, and with no Equestrian artillery, they could only field Applejack's infantry—Applejack's outnumbered infantry, which were about to be flanked on both sides. She had to think of something.

“Fluttershy,” she ordered, “Get out there and clear the field of fallen pegasus ponies. Get the ones who've fallen behind the infantry first; that should help keep your medics as safe as possible. Pinkie Pie, I'm going need you to wheel your soldiers left and prepare a--”

“Um,” Fluttershy said. “She...oh dear, oh dear...she isn't here.”

“I'm sorry,” Twilight said. “I didn't understand that.”

“Pinkie Pie, um, I really should have told you earlier, but I didn't want to get her in any trouble, but Pinkie Pie surrendered all of her soldiers to the gryphons two hours ago.”

“...you're not joking. Oh, Celestia, you aren't joking.”

“Oh, no. I wouldn't joke about that. Um. Anyway. I better go tell my medics to do...the things they have to do. General. Ma'am. Sir.” She smiled awkwardly, then took a few steps backwards and flew off.



Applejack looked around, calm despite the horrifying straits she was in. Dash's cavalry were in a defensive formation high in the sky, hovering nearly out of sight. The lion line of battle was wrapped around her in an enormous letter-C. Her ponies were in tight formation, preparing for a lion charge that wasn't coming. Gryphonic cannonballs ripped through her lines, tearing off limbs and heads and tearing open torsos in the helpless pony lines. The lions licked their chops, waiting for the ponies to make a move. Gryphonic cavalry floated above the lion lines, the morning sun glinting off their armor and their sabers.

Well, she thought. Retreat and we get pursued and probably routed. Charge and we get shredded. Stay and we get torn to pieces. Dash won't be able to screen the retreat in time. But she might be able to join an attack. Attack it is, then. She lifted her whistle to her mouth, and prepared to blow an order.

Suddenly, she heard an Equestrian whistle blow a charge. She looked around. She heard it again. Hundreds of ponies began shrieking—an otherworldly, bizarre, unnerving noise. And it was coming from behind the Gryphonic lines.





“Come on, girls!” Pinkie shouted. “To the cannon!” She blew her whistle again, then spat it on the ground; she hadn't bothered with its lanyard. Around her, her shrieking ponies charged forward, easily overpowering the shocked lion guards. The light infantry had been bound after they had surrendered, of course, but each soldier had carried a small blade in her mouth. Cutting the ropes was simple—and they knew how to fight unarmored.

Reaching the Gryphonic cannon was easy. Capturing it was even easier; the shocked gryphons flew off rather than standing and fighting. Within five minutes of blowing her whistle, Pinkie Pie commanded the Gryphonic artillery.

Her soldiers rushed to load the cannon as she watched the skies. She saw the Gryphonic cavalry moving into formation for a countercharge. “All right, gals. Canister shot, and aim low. Let's tear the tails off some lions. And don't worry about those birdies. Auntie Pinkie Pie's got a friend who specializes in saving her alfalfa.”





Rainbow Dash laughed. She didn't know what else to do. Hundreds of prisoners had suddenly overpowered their guards, and the Gryphonic artillery was now tearing gaping holes in the Gryphonic infantry lines. It was Pinkie. Of course it was Pinkie. Who else could it be? But...now Pinkie was exposed to Gryphonic cavalry. Cavalry, she thought, who now have their backs to us.

Oh, poor brave Pinkie. If only there were a pony who knew how to tear apart gryphons. If only that pony had thousands of expertly trained cavalry in close formations. If only her ponies had half a kilometer of altitude on the gryphons. If only that pony had nothing standing between her and a devastating diving charge. And if only doing that would also put her in perfect position to hammer the back of the lion lines.

If only, Dash thought, and laughed again. She pulled her whistle into her mouth, and blew.


---


The sounds of celebration rang through the field. Anti-cavalry shells exploded midair: ersatz fireworks with more than a hint of mockery.

“You did it,” Twilight shouted excitedly. “You did it, Pinkie. I can't believe it. I can't believe you! You should be locked up, you crazy, crazy, insane, nuts, wonderful, genius pony!”

“I did do it, didn't I?!” Pinkie laughed, as she bounced back and forth between her front legs and hind leg. “I told you I knew what to do!”

“You did! You did! Ha ha, I can't believe it, you did! I'll never doubt you again, oh, I promise I'll never doubt you again. Oh, but how did you know? How did you know we'd need you to do that?!”

“I didn't,” she shrugged. “I just figured the gryphons might have something up their sleeve, so I had better put something up ours too. And if there's one thing Miss Pinkie Pie is good at, it's playing tricks! And ol' Flutters here sure helped.” Pinkie nudged Fluttershy in the ribs. Fluttershy winced, though her blushing face still wore a smile.

“I can't believe it,” Twilight bubbled. “I can't believe you, Pinkie. Oh, wow, I can't believe it.” She sighed happily.

They heard hooves running up behind them. “Land sakes, Pinkie Pie, I never thought I'd live to see any of y'all again! You are the craziest, craftiest pony I ever laid eyes on! How in tarnation did you pull that one off?” Applejack laughed, and punched Pinkie playfully. “You oughta be ashamed of yourself, makin' us all look stupid like that!”

Above them, they heard a raspy voice shout, “PINKIE!” A rainbow bolt crashed into the pink pony, and the two tumbled giddily through the mud.

A good distance away, Rarity watched, her face impassive.
> XXXII. Northmarch, Equestria. July, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Northmarch, Equestria. July, 1252.

The war council sat in the long canvas tent: once a soldiers' meat-hall, now a general's roost. It was lavishly decorated with bright ribbons, gilded silk icons, and sundry prizes of war. It was made to inspire feelings of awe and glory. It was an abject humiliation. 

Until recently, the gryphonic leadership lived, worked, and met in luxurious houses and town halls commandeered from ponies. Yet now such extravagance was dangerous; a gryphon who exposed himself to the common pony might find his food poisoned or his new house burned down around him in the middle of the night. Displays of force did nothing. Reprisals did nothing. Even their Great Preening—the two-week blood-soaked campaign to cleanse the liberated territories of agents of the pony queen—only hardened resistance against them.

Their supplies were running thin. They were surrounded by a hostile populace. The soldiers' faith in their leaders was shattered after the string of defeats they had endured. And they were confronted with the army of the detestable Gray Mare—an army undersized and green but savagely led and swelling daily. They still referred to it as a mob of bandits, but each knew the truth: the Army of Northern Equestria was not a futile resistance and they themselves were not conquering heroes. They were an army trapped in a hostile land and facing an enemy far more fearsome than any of them had expected.

The generals sat in a circle on the floor: on the east, the decorated hen Sharpeye, the commander of the forces sent to neutralize the Equestrian army. On the south, her Second, the young cock Broadwings. On the north, the aged cock Chippedclaw, leader of the efforts to pacify liberated territory. On the west, his Second, the idealistic mountain hen Goldfeather. They had been talking for some time. They continued to talk.

“I understand your concerns,” Chippedclaw said deliberately, “but I am reluctant to consider the counsel of the general who allowed the forces of the Pony Queen to retake their capital. Your failure to protect the symbolic center of Equestria is the reason we are having this discussion in the first place. You are here to reenforce me, not to supplant me. You would be wise, Sharpeye, to maintain a penitent silence.”

Sharpeye displayed no emotion. “I was ordered to move north with my forces by Duke Malachi himself—and was ordered to do so entirely because of your inability to put down a bandit uprising. His Majesty obviously believes that correcting your incompetence is most important at this moment.”

Goldfeather jumped in just as Sharpeye finished speaking. “Sharpeye, I do recall reading zat you vere to leave a detachment capable of ensuring zat ze Queen remained in helpless exile in ze Everfree Forest. Did His Lordship alzo inform you that it was ze vish of His Majesty zat your detachment be defeated and zat ze Pony Queen retake her ssrone? It certainly vas not. Vhy vas it not possible for you to ensure a defeated army remained defeated?”

Sharpeye shook her head plainly. She was hard to ruffle. “Goldfeather, let us consider our recent history. Broadwings and I engaged the pony army twice. In the first battle between pony and gryphon, I admit we were taken by surprise by the skill of pony arms. In our second battle, we learned from our mistake, defeated them soundly, and were denied ultimate victory only by the evil magic of the Pony Queen. You and Chippedclaw, on the other hand, have spent your time bullying farmers, burning cities, losing battles, and allowing a mailmare to become a bandit princess under your nose. The reversal at Canterlot is unfortunate, but I assure you I will fix that problem after I finish fixing yours.”

“It is not a reversal,” Broadwings said. “It is the end.”

Sharpeye slapped Broadwings, her talons leaving thin scratches in the young general's face. “Silence! Despair is sinful for a gryphon, and disloyalty to the First is treasonous for the Second.”

Broadwings ignored the trickles of blood dampening his facial feathers. “I have followed you and will continue to follow you, esteemed Sharpeye. But I am a general in my own right, and as I see it we are heading down a losing path. It would shame my hall to hold my voice in such a moment of crisis.”

Goldfeather narrowed her eyes. “Broadwings, you are unvorzy to be ze namebearer of your ancestral hall. You are even unvorzy of your Eagle-blood. A single defeat and you prepare to lie down in surrender? I pity Sharpeye, for she must share a command tent viss a gryphon unvorzy of his talons.”

“I hear they share more than that,” Chippedclaw muttered.

Broadwings hissed, then spoke. “ I will not have my house insulted like this. I am Broadwings and deserve to be. It is not honorable to weaken the Kingdom and dishonor His Most Serene Majesty with short-sighted and stupid strategies. Any soldier, whether gryphon or lion, can see our position is untenable, and is untenable because of failures in leadership. Retreat now would at least allow us to rebuild our forces and prepare a wiser invasion.”

“You speak from fear,” Sharpeye growled. “You have been spinning nightmares since the moment we launched our invasion.”

“And I have been right to do so,” Broadwings said, his feathers erect, his eyes burning with aggression. “What hunter would chase his quarry without knowing the winds and the currents? Your pride has kept you from fighting intelligently, and to this very minute you are still unable to face the magnitude of your failures. And you three—you who hide from your responsibilities—dare to call me a coward!? If the Pony Queen triumphs, it will not be because she deserved to win. It will be because you deserved to lose.”

“Enough,” Chippedclaw said. “You have defended the honor of your house, Broadwings. Let us proceed.” The tension in the tent subsided. He continued. “I have been fighting the Gray Mare for some time, and while no gryphon can understand her warped mind, I do understand that she is a formidable enemy. And whatever his motivations for speaking as he does, Broadwings is correct about one thing: we cannot indefinitely fight as we are. The balance of power favors us still, but every day the ponies throw another hundred bodies on their scale, and every day we lose scores from our own ranks. We cannot wait any longer. We have the majority of His Dreadful Majesty's forces assembled here. It is time to attack.”

Sharpeye spoke. “That is exactly why I have suggested splitting our forces, Chippedclaw; we must not allow the Gray Mare to escape and prolong this campaign. Given that she seems to need no supply lines in this region, if we advance as one, we will allow them to maneuver freely. Splitting the army worked to subdue and destroy the Pony Queen's army. It will certainly work against the rabble of farmers led by the Gray Mare.”

“I assume you have read my reports, Sharpeye. To attack the Gray Mare with anything but overwhelming force is foolish. Do not make the mistake of disrespecting her.”

“I have read them. Forcing engagement was one of the few wise things you did, and was not the reason you were defeated. Your failures were tactical and not strategic.”

“Our failures were indeed strategic. We should never have put ourselves in a situation where her tactics could have made a difference. She is devilishly dishonorable; we cannot predict her because we cannot stoop to her level. Tell me, Sharpeye: have you seen the latest scouting figures? We now only outnumber her two to one. If we split our forces we will be evenly matched, and--”

“--a gryphon is better than a pony is,” Sharpeye interjected, her voice hot.

“And the Gray Mare is better than you.”

The two generals glared at each other.

“I support Chippedclaw,” Goldfeather said at last. “Our confrontation of ze Gray Mare should be ze battle zat decides ze fate of Gryphonia. It is only fitting zat ve should have every soldier at hand. Ve should vin by ze overvhelming glory of our race rasser zan ssrough ze games of generals.”

“I support Chippedclaw as well,” said Broadwings, “but you are foolish if you think that defeating the Gray Mare will end this war. Defeating armies has not ended this war. Humbling the Queen has not ended this war. The ponies still fight. They will form new armies. If their leaders are killed they will raise new leaders from the masses—I needn't remind you that the Gray Mare was once a humble mail carrier.”

Goldfeather turned to Broadwings. “I appreciate your support, but your analysis of ze situation is still passetically despondent . The ponies vill submit vhen defeated. Chippedclaw and I vere velcomed peacefully in Fillydelphia, vere ve not?”

“I'm sure you were, Golt-fezz-airrr,” Broadwings said, voice dripping with condescension. “And how did they treat gryphons when the army departed? Let's ask the governor you left—if we can gather up his ashes.”

“Ze ponies are backstabbing vermin, yes. But zey bow and zey serve vhen zey are beaten,” Goldfeather hissed.

“And they fight again when you leave,” Broadwings said, over-enunciating to draw attention to his own standard Kali'gryph accent. “We cannot occupy all of Equestria, so we cannot ever win if our goal is to conquer the entire country. Do not think my support for this strategy amounts to support for the way we are pursuing this war. ”

“We shall leave aside Broadwings' flirtations with treason, for our war aims are not this hour's discussion,” Chippedclaw said authoritatively, again silencing the tent. “We can neither advance nor retreat without confronting the Gray Mare, and so we must confront her. Sharpeye aside, it seems we are in agreement that we should mass our forces. And so we shall.”


---


The pony campfires coated the rugged hills like a rash. From a natural ledge, Big Macintosh and Derpy Hooves watched the flickering constellations below and above.

“It's a beautiful sight, ain't it? Never thought I'd see so many fires. All that light in the darkness. Somethin' powerful in it.”

“Didn't take you for the poetic sort, Mac.” She nestled herself closer against him.

“I spent more nights 'n' you'd believe lookin' at the stars back at Sweet Apple Acres. Not a whole lot else to do at night, really, 'specially once you've heard all Granny Smith's stories.” He chuckled.

“I don't know anything about the stars. I mean, I can navigate by them. Any mailmare can. But I never really thought much about them...hm. I guess it's 'cause they were impossible to focus on without holding an eye shut." She looked up at him. "I mean, you know how tiring that gets.”

“Not really.”

“Well...try it sometime. It's a pain.”

“I have. All the time, tryin' to see what it's like for you with that thing on. It ain't so bad.”

Derpy laughed joylessly. “It's different when you're doing it for curiosity's sake, Mac. Trust me.”

Mac shrugged. “Sure. I trust ya. You ain't the type to waste breath complainin' 'bout nothin'.”

“Yeah I am. Don't you know me? I complain all the time. That's why I love you. You let me complain at you about the awful things I do and then I feel better and then I can go do more awful things.” She sighed, and pulled his foreleg around her.

“Derpy, it's different when—aw, hell, let's not talk 'bout that tonight. It's been goin' so nice. So normal.”

“Yeah. It has...you know, I do really love you, Mac. You do a lot for me.” She said the last sentence like she was about to follow up with something, but she remained silent.

“Derpy?”

“Yeah?”

“Was there somethin' else you were gonna say?”

“...no point putting it off," she said with a heavy sigh. "We're going to have to move out, Mac.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly. “Word travels fast. The entire army knows the gryphons are on the march again.”

“If we win, we're going to be able to kick them out.” She said it without much emotion.

“You serious? If we win? You mean you're going to take 'em on? Head-on? All of 'em? The whole hog?” 

“Would I joke about that? I'm sitting between them and any reinforcements they might get. If they lose, they'll have to retreat just to keep their army intact, and they'll be even further from their supply lines. They won't be able to mount another attack for weeks. And if they can't beat us now, will they be able to beat us when we're stronger and they're weaker? No. If we win, they'll have to leave.”

“And you think you can beat them?”

“I've beaten longer odds, Mac. This is nothing. I can do it.”

“So then...if we fought them. And if we won. It'd be over. Really? I mean, I don't really think...”

“It wouldn't be remotely over.”

“What do you mean by that?” He knew what she meant.

“I mean I'm not going to stop fighting. I'm going to beat them.”

“Derpy, if beating 'em means the war would be over, then you'd stop fighting. When the war's over you stop fighting.” He spoke like she was a child. He didn't know why he said it that way; he knew what she was going to say.

“But I'm not going to stop, Mac. I'm not going to stop until I've ended this war. Not kicked the gryphons out. No. Not until I've ended this war. Not put it off for a year. Not put it off for five years. Not put it off for Dinky to deal with. Not put it off for Dinky's grandchildren to deal with. I'm going to end it.”

He whistled--a long, slow whistle. “You're really gonna try to invade Gryphonia? With what? Your farmers? Invadin' someone else's home is different than defendin' your own home.”

“We'd have to raise a proper army. A real one. A big one. But that'll be easy once we control the whole country again. I hear our friends from Ponyville, including your sister, are building an army in Canterlot. Why else, but to invade? They have to know I can kick the gryphons out with what I've got.”

There was silence.

“...you're expectin' me to tell you it's a bad idea. Fightin' the gryphon army now. Invadin'. All that.”

“Nah. We both know what you think and why you think it. And we both know what I think and why I think it. And you know I'll do it anyway, and you know it'll work, because you know I'm really, really good at what I do."

Again there was silence.

“Derpy, if you kick them out you'll have won. Your daughter will be safe. Celestia will be able to organize a new system of defense that will keep Equestria safe forever. You'll have gotten everything you wanted. You'll be able to go home.”

“I can't go home, Mac. I have to keep fighting. The border is just a line on the map. So what if they cross it? No. It's not over until we're safe .”

“It ain't you, Derpy. Derpy Hooves is not a pony that likes fighting. She is a pony who will defend what she loves from bullies, but she is not a pony that keeps fighting after she's defended herself.”

Derpy laughed sadly. “That's true, Mac, but it doesn't mean a whole lot.”

“You can't turn your back on who you are. You can't. It don't work. You're Derpy Hooves and you can't be the Grey Mare forever.”

Derpy cocked her head. “And you think I'm Derpy Hooves? Really?”

“You sure as heck ain't the Gray Mare.”

“I wasn't talking about that, Mac.”

“Well, what in blazes are you talkin' about?”

“Mac. Do you know what 'Derpy Hooves' means?”

“I ain't never really thought ab--”

“--it means 'Stupid Hooves,' Mac. Do you think my mother named me Stupid Hooves? Or Dummy Hooves? Or anything like that? Of course not. So do you think I'm 'Derpy Hooves' any more than I'm anything else? Hell, no, I'm not.” Her eyes welled up.

“Derpy, I don't understand, what--”

“Bright Eyes,” she said, in a quiet voice. “I was Bright Eyes, once. I was my mommy's precious little filly. She was a baker in Cloudsdale, and a lovely mare—and I was her perfect little muffin. So I was Bright Eyes, a doting mother's delight. Then I grew older, and kids started making fun of me because of my eyes. I wasn't Bright Eyes any longer, oh, no, not with the eyes I had. I became Ditzy Eyes, and then just Ditzy Doo. That's who I was in Cloudsdale: Ditzy Doo. Heck, the pegasi in Ponyville who knew me from Cloudsdale still call me that sometimes. That's just who I was: Ditzy Doo. Stupid, featherbrained Ditzy Doo, who couldn't remember which way was up. Oh, of course I knew which way was up. When any other colt or filly crashed, hey, no big deal, new wings and all that. When I crashed? Ha ha, Ditzy doesn't know which way is which. Ha ha. Stupid Ditzy Doo.”

She bit a lip, and continued speaking.

“You know how I ran away from Cloudsdale. You know that the ponies in Ponyville were just as awful as back home. I told them I was Bright Eyes. But they gave me another name, just as cruel as the last.  I fought off the bullies, but it didn't matter. The name stuck anyway. So in Ponyville I was Derpy Hooves, the bumbling little mailmare. Yeah. One time...one time I met a stallion who said I was beautiful, and so I let him screw me. He lied to me, yeah, about a lot of things, but I got Dinky out of it, and I became her Mommy. Then Ponyville needed someone to rally around in a time of crisis, and I became the Captain. Then Equestria needed a hero, and I became the General to ponies and the Gray Mare to gryphons.”

She paused to think.

“So maybe I'm not really the Gray Mare. Maybe I'm not! You're right. Maybe I'm not. But who am I? Am I Derpy Hooves, the bumbling little mailmare? Not any more. Each of those little points of light is ringed by a dozen ponies who have sworn to follow me to their deaths. Am I Ditzy Doo? Not any more; I'm a pretty good flier and I don't even have a second eye to cross. Am I Dinky's mommy?” She shivered. “No, not any more. She'll hate me when she's old enough to understand what I've done, and I only hope that someday she'll understand why I did it. So am I Bright Eyes? Mac, I haven't been that since kindergarten. So who am I? Who the hay am I? I'm some gray mare. That's it. That's all I've ever been. Some gray mare, and everypony else decides who I am. I might as well be the Gray Mare.”

“But Derpy,” Mac said. “The Gray Mare? She's a killer. You're a good pony. You're a good mare. I know you are. You're a good mare. It doesn't matter what you're called. You're still you, whether you're called Bright Eyes or Ditzy Doo or Derpy Hooves or Big Macintosh or Princess Celestia or whatever.”

“Maybe I was just good because I wanted ponies to like me. Maybe I just do what ponies expect.”

“That ain't true and you know it. Remember rescuin' Apple Bloom? That wasn't a popular decision. You aim to do the right thing whether ponies like it or not, and that's why follow you.”

“I do lots of bad things, Mac.”

“You never aim to do bad.”

“Does anypony?”


---

A light rain fell, dispersing the dawn fog. Derpy sat in her command tent—alone as usual—listening to the sparse pitter-pat of raindrops. She heard the soft noise of hooves on wet earth approaching her door. She called for them to enter. They did. Her colonels stood front of her, awaiting orders. She waved them over, and began outlining her strategy on the map in front of her.

“All right. We're outnumbered badly, and they're deploying as we speak, so we're going to be quick about this. Bon Bon, I want your infantry to deploy here. In a straight line, completely straight.”

“A straight line?” she asked in her nasal twang. “Y'sure about that? Our flanks'll be undefended, not to mention it'll let 'em--”

“--I know. We'll use these little hills on either end to anchor our flanks, with some light infantry on top of the hills and the cuirassiers hovering above the hills. It's not ideal, but it'll slow 'em down enough that you shouldn't be outflanked for a little while. April Showers, split the cuirassiers evenly, and hold a quarter of them in reserve to plug gaps that open in the lines. As for the lancers, have them take control of these ridges over here.” She pointed to some high cliffs a fair distance off the flanks of the battle  line.

“High Roller, I need you to deploy your guns on these cliffs here. Sixty over here on the northern cliff, fifty over here on the southern cliff. Bring only round shot. And you'll need to start moving immediately.”

“I...what?” He looked incredulous. “That's practically a sheer face. And we'd have to drag them through nearly a kilometer of mud. We couldn't possibly get sixty guns up there.”

“I know you can't. You're unicorns. Which is why I've reassigned Bon Bon's five hundred strongest stallions to your artillery corps, and reassigned five hundred of your artillerists to the infantry reserves. Anywhere there's ground, an Earth pony can walk. Anywhere two Earth ponies can walk, they can pull a half-ton of metal. Two ponies on each limber, two ponies on each caisson. Each gun will need a unicorn to sight and a unicorn to ignite the charge, but everything else will be handled by the Earth ponies.”

“Pulling the ammunition, perhaps—but nopony touches the guns but unicorns. Nopony! It's been that way for centuries!”

“It's not that way any more,” she snapped. She hated when her officers contradicted her. She especially hated when the New Equestrian Army veterans insisted she follow the ancient rulebooks.

“But artillery is a unicorn's job. That's how it should be. That's how it has to be.”

“I don't have time for this. Another word of contradiction and you'll be an infantry sergeant. We need guns on those hills. You can't pull them there. Earth ponies can. Once you're up there, you'll be higher than Gryphonic artillery can elevate, and you'll be able to enfilade the lions. Now. You all have your orders. Go. Celestia's grace be with you.”


---

Morning Melody soared through the gentle rain, her hundred lancers following behind her. In every direction were clouds of lancers in cone formations—some precise and some ragged, but each flying with the same determination. Behind and below her, the pony line of battle spread between two little knobs. It stretched far, far longer than she had ever seen before. And it looked perilously thin from up here, like a frayed thread that might be broken by the slightest touch. She looked at the lion infantry advancing on it. It was still a thinner line than she had expected to see, but it was much, much thicker than the pony line—and much longer to boot. And there were, behind it, many more little tawny rectangles of infantry. She had read that the lions outnumbered the ponies two to one. It certainly seemed like more than that.

Between her and the enemy army flocked the gryphon cavalry. She watched them warily. Usually the gryphons went right after the ponies, but this time they held a more defensive posture. They were keeping the lancers from launching a flanking attack, but weren't engaging them.

As she approached the cliff, she looked for the artillery. She scanned the ground for nearly a minute before she found them. They were far closer than she expected, and were moving at a good rate. They were running, even—at nearly full speed—each team somehow dragging a thousand pounds of metal on rickety wheels through muddy ground, kicking up sprays of mud and dirt as they went. One of Melody's lancers whistled. “Look't 'em go,” she said in naked admiration. “That's unreal. Anyone tells me an Earth pony ain't magical, I'll kick their flank I will.”

She heard a rumbling noise in the distance. It seemed the gryphon artillery had moved into range. It was tardy of them, she thought—it was unlike them to not have everything in place before launching an attack. She watched the pony lines for the impact. Yet instead of seeing the sudden gaps in the lines that round shot caused, she saw bright orange flashes along and around the stretches of infantry. Carcass shot? It seems the honor of a gryphon has its limits.  Rather than concentrate their fire as ponies preferred to, they spread it throughout the entire pony line. Apparently their strategy was to overwhelm the entire army rather than to break a hole at one point. Reasonable, given their enormous advantage in numbers.

She looked back at the artillery racing through the mud. They weren't there. She looked closer. Somehow they were nearly at the foot of the cliff already.


---


“Hold it together,” Bon Bon shouted over the grisly shrieks of burning ponies as she limped/ran down the line. “They're tryin' to scare y'off. Don't you dare give into it. Death is death, n'matter how it looks, and if y'fear it it'll get ya. Hold steady, hold strong, and don't take a step forwards or a step backwards.” She could see the lions approaching—an enormous wall of fur and armor and teeth. She blew a single short whistle burst, which was then echoed dozens of times down the long pony line of battle. “Fire and brace for impact,” she shouted, though the verbal command was entirely redundant.

With a cracking, clattering noise, the ponies kicked a volley of rocks into the gryphon lines. The first row of lions fell. It didn't seem to make a dent in the approaching horde. “Keep your balance,” Bon Bon shouted, still running down the line. “Don't give 'em an opening. And for Celestia's sake hold it together!”

She heard roaring and tearing to her side. The lions must have already hit the line there. The sound began to spread down the line in a horrifying cacophonous wave of noise. She saw a battalion of infantry begin to break already, and she immediately began whistling for reinforcements as she ran to rally them. Yet, as she ran, she saw another hole begin to open further down the line. She looked behind her, and saw another hole opening there. The army was beginning to crumble, and the battle wasn't twenty minutes old.

Above her, she heard a voice, booming through the field. “Hold the lines!” it shouted. It was the General, hovering directly above the center of the battle, her glittering armor making her visible across the battlefield, Lyra's magic making her audible across the battlefield. “Hold the lines or all Equestria will be torn apart!” A volley of cannonballs tore the air around her. She didn't react. “Hold the lines, damn it, or I'll be torn apart! Let them carve your bodies! Let them rip your flesh and split your limbs, but hold the lines! They can break a pony's body, but hold the lines and we will break their army! Hold, or die! Hold!”

As Derpy shouted from above them, the pony army reformed its tight lines. Yet, as Bon Bon could see, the Gryphonic cavalry were now charging en masse at Derpy, streaking from every corner of the battlefield at the exposed and undefended Gray Mare. She looked back at the cavalry reserves. There were none; the cuirassiers were all engaged along the line. Derpy continued to hover and continued to rally her troops.

Just then, a sharp thundercrack echoed across the battlefield.


---


Morning Melody watched as the northern cliff erupted in flame. She shifted her attention to the Gryphonic artillery. A second and a half later, it mostly disappeared in a sudden cloud of dust. The remaining enemy cannon fired, as if in defiance, immediately after. A minute later, they, too, were swept aside in a second volley. With such an advantage of elevation—and with artillery officers mostly trained by Twilight Sparkle—knocking out enemy artillery was pathetically easy.

Melody turned her attention to the enormous line of enemy infantry, improbably stalled by the thin line of pony infantry. She heard another crack. She watched the enemy lines with dreadful anticipation. And when it hit, she felt her heart pause. 

Ripples of motion swept across the lion army, like wind blowing through tall grass. Round shot flew and skipped down the length of the lion lines, each tearing through dozens of lions and knocking over dozens more. Sixty cannon: sixty cannonballs, each slicing a bloody gash along the length of the lion army. It was enfilade fire: shot raking along the length of the enemy line, rather than making perpendicular pinpricks.

She looked back at her own artillery. They were just beginning to set up. Good. Very, very good. She looked back at the General. She was nowhere to be seen—and the gryphon cavalry, having realized why the ponies had captured the cliffs, were now charging: one enormous black-and-silver cloud, coming directly at her.

She blew her orders, and moved to meet the enemy head-on. They likely outnumbered her four to one. She knew that. But she also knew something the gryphons didn't. She knew there wasn't a bomb strapped to her chest.

The lancers arranged themselves for a charge, and came to a dead stop. Morning Melody squinted, and past the cloud saw that the rest of the Equestrian cavalry was approaching the center of the battlefield—the cuirassiers from the line of battle to her left, and the lancers from the northern cliff straight ahead. She blew a dit-dit-da-dit-da-da, and then took off in a charge. Most didn't follow her.

She looked around in satisfaction. Fifty or so lancers were charging out of the pegasus cloud, each one flying alone, each one aiming directly at a different part of the gryphon cloud. In response, the gryphons scattered, breaking formations to avoid giving the apparent suicide bombers any worthwhile targets. Melody slowed down. So did the rest of her “bombers.” She came to a stop. So did her “bombers.” She flapped her wings a few times. She was a good hundred yards away from the gryphons, but she could feel the tension gripping them. All their eyes were fixed on her “bombers.” She, alone, began to charge again. All gryphon eyes were wide in dread anticipation.  All gryphon eyes were on her.

And none were on the lancers that tore into their rear.

---

Derpy watched the aerial brawl in satisfaction. The lancers from the northern cliff had carved out an enormous swath of the gryphon cloud before the gryphons had realized what was happening. They were scattered, stationary, and facing the wrong direction. They were perfect prey. And just as they began to reorganize into formations to repel the charging lancers, the pony cuirassiers slammed into the gryphons' flanks, after which the southern lancers charged in as well. The gryphons were being attacked in three directions, and they weren't putting up an effective defense against any of the three.

On the other hand, removing the cuirassiers from the infantry battle had weakened the pony lines, and she was nearly out of reserves. She had little left if the lines broke. She could try to rally her forces again, but tricks like that were never as effective the second time. No. She could only wait and hope the double enfilade fire of the cannons would shatter the lions before her infantry crumbled.

Another peal of thunder reverberated through the field, deafening her for a moment to the sound of lions slaughtering ponies. And with a chorus of whistles and crashes, a hundred and ten cannonballs skipped along the length of the lion lines, mangling bodies all the while. She did some quick calculations. Allowing for the fact that many shots would miss the enemy entirely, she could expect well over a thousand enemy casualties per volley. Well. Whoever broke, it would have to happen soon.

She returned her attention to the cavalry fight, but almost immediately heard an ominous chorus of roars. She snapped her attention to her right. Less than a hundred meters away, her line was beginning to break. She leapt into the air, spreading her wings, and headed directly for the newly opened gap.

Yet another crack of cannon split the air.


---


Morning Melody winced as a spray of blood hit her face. She didn't know if it was pony or gryphon blood, though the way the air battle was going, it probably wasn't a pony's. She wiped her eyes with one foreleg, realized that one was already blood-soaked, and then wiped them clean with the other. She banked hard to her right, dodged a falling pegasus, then stabbed her lance into the back of a gryphon hussar. She immediately felt a shock through her body; the lance had embedded itself in something rather than slicing cleanly through flesh. As she tumbled through the air with the screeching gryphon, she braced her hooves against her enemy's body, tore her lance free, and then righted her flight as the gryphon fell from the sky.

The battle for the sky had devolved into one enormous dogfight, as the charges had broken up into a brawl of individual against individual. The outcome was no longer in question, though; the initial charges were so destructive that the gryphon cavalry scarcely existed as a functional fighting force. She checked behind and above for threats, then looked around for another target to strike. Yet this time she couldn't find one. She kept scanning. Nothing but ponies. Then she saw it—the surviving gryphons had fled the field and were in full retreat. There were still quite a few of them, to be sure, but either they had given up or they were doing a damn good job of pretending.

A cuirassier sergeant flew up beside her. “They've broken, and I can't find Col. Lady Luck. Should we pursue, ma'am?”

Melody looked back at the infantry battle below her, then at the gryphons soaring away. “Don't bother,” she said.


---


Derpy flew at ground level, weaving around fleeing soldiers to the heart of the breakthrough. She soared over a few startled lions, then found her target—a banner lying in the mud, still in the grasp of a dead mare. She picked up the regimental flag, then brandished it, shouting as loudly as her natural voice could manage. Immediately, as if propelled by some magic, ponies rallied to her, rolling over the lions that surrounded her in a fury of hooves.

She shouted orders as she stood on two hooves, pointing with one forehoof, the other forehoof holding the flag as a crutch to keep herself balanced. For a minute it seemed the gap had been secured. Yet, just as she drew the attention of ponies, she drew the attention of lions as well—and soon an enemy countercharge slammed into the Equestrian lines.

The lions tackled the ponies by the hundreds, their claws digging into flesh as they struck, sending the front rank of ponies crashing into the second. Derpy herself was bowled over, as pony knocked over pony knocked over pony. She stayed prone for a second to catch her breath, then tried to get up. Her body felt leaden, and she fought against the desire to collapse. Suddenly, she felt a sudden heavy weight pushing her back into the ground. The wind was knocked out of her again and she opened her mouth to breathe, though no air entered her stunned lungs. She opened her eyes. A lion was square on her chest, staring her in the face.

She narrowed her eyes, looking directly into his, challenging him to kill her. Yet his own expression was of fear—of panic. He stared at her. She stared resolutely back. He began to mouth something. She stared back. And his eyes faded, and he exhaled deeply, and he fell to the side, dead.

She felt a hoof wrap around her neck and pick her off the ground. She was guided gently to her feet, and then saw she was surrounded—not by lions, but by ponies. They were winged stallions in dull breastplates. They were her cuirassiers.

She coughed, and looked around her. All along the line, cavalryponies were charging into the battered and torn Gryphonic rear. And all along the line, the lions were finally turning, and finally breaking.


---


Derpy Hooves walked through the sprawling prisoner camp, arriving at a small grey tent. She entered. Inside was a bound gryphon with two pony guards.

“The Gray Mare. I confess I was hoping to meet you under similar circumstances...though with one crucial difference, of course. Heh.”

“I'm sure you were, General Broadwings.” She smiled politely. “I'm very glad to meet you at last.”

“I do not believe in continuing this invasion,” the gryphon said. “Our goals are not at cross purposes.”

“See,” a guard said. “He's just beggin' for his life, that miserable sack of feathers. I told you we shoulda just killed him. Coward like him'll say anything."

Derpy wheeled on the guard, in a fit of sudden anger. “Coward? You know nothing of gryphons. This is Broadwings. Not 'Perry Broadwings.' No. Broadwings. A namebearer could never dishonor himself before he goes to meet his ancestral hall.” She turned back to the gryphon. “I apologize for my guard. Few ponies have taken the time to talk to gryphons well enough to understand them.”

“I am certainly impressed,” Broadwings said. “Few ponies know our ways. Also...I admit I am mildly disturbed that you know my birth name as well as my court name.”

“It's not a secret,” Derpy chuckled. “More than one captured soldier has begged to be released by claiming he's a close relative of a general. Surprisingly, it seems some actually are.”

“May I ask your name, then? So that we may be on an equal footing for our little discussion? We know you only as the Gray Mare. Your name has become as forbidden as the names of the Pony Queen and His Dreadful Majesty.”

Derpy smiled. “You may ask.”

There was a silence.

“...what is your name, Gray Mare?”

There was a silence. To the gryphon's surprise, the pony seemed to be considering the question as if it carried enormous weight.

“...I think 'Gray Mare' is as good a name as any,” she said thoughtfully.

He raised one of his eyebrows. She raised hers back.

“But I suppose you can call me Derpy Hooves,” she said with a trace of satisfaction.
> XXXIII. Northmarch, Equestria. July, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

XXXIII. Northmarch, Equestria. July, 1252.


“Well then, General Hooves, I must say I am honored to meet you.” It didn't sound like a formality.

“Likewise,” she replied, then turned to the two Earth pony guards. “You may leave. And please, cut his bindings before you do.”

They complied, and as they left, Broadwings ran a finger over the lines formed by the wrist bindings cutting into his skin.

“You are trusting,” Broadwings said. “I very much desire to tear you apart.”

“But you won't, because a true gryphon does not repay trust with treachery. If you were the type of gryphon to do that, we would not be having this conversation—for a number of reasons.”

“Honor is not a straitjacket,” he said in a warning tone of voice. “You may be surprised what gryphons will justify.”

“I've certainly seen the darker side of your people,” she replied, almost theatrically. “And yes, Broadwings, I do assume you have somehow justified to yourselves the unpleasant reality that you are butchers of the living. You murder and defend it, and you murder and defend it, and yet here I am, trusting a gryphon who ordered foals to be cut out of mares' bellies. I imagine most ponies would think  I'm crazy—well, assuming they don't already. Would you care for some coffee? It's very good. Punda-Milian, actually.”

“I didn't order the Preening, Mare. I opposed it. It was already going on when I arrived.”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

“You don't believe me.”

“I do. If I thought you had ordered it I would have murdered you myself, and I'd have done it as slowly as I know how. That's quite slow, by the way, I've learned more than a few things from your handiwork...” She trailed off, then shook off a rising swirl of memory and emotion with a whip of her mane. “But you're still responsible. Your soldiers helped carry it out. You did nothing to stop it.”

“I told you I argued against it,” he said, more defensively than he intended. He realized with a flash of embarrassment that he wanted her approval.

“Oh, wonderful,” she said, her voice lilting with affected delight. “We can go to the orphan camp next, and you can tell all the fillies that it's okay that your soldiers murdered their mommies in front of them, because you argued against it. Don't be mad at him, because he knew it was evil when he did it!”

“You've done just as bad, Mare," he said, his voice dark.

“I haven't soaked my fur in the blood of mothers and children.”

“You've done everything but.”

“And yet that is a rather large 'but.' Do you want coffee or not? It'll become too bitter if I leave it on any longer.”

“I like it bitter,” he snapped. He hadn't spoken to her for five minutes and he already hated her apparent habit of changing the subject after her sanctimonious barbs.

“That's a waste of Punda-Milian. Now here,” she said, handing him a mug. “Like I said, it's good.”

He took a drink, then swirled his tongue around his mouth. “It's weak,” he said at last.

“No,” she replied with a slight tone of reprimand. “It has flavor. The point of coffee isn't to prove you can handle a nastier brew than anyone else. The point is to enjoy it.”

“Flavor? It doesn't taste like anything.”

“Fine,” she shrugged. “Then I won't pour you a second cup. But don't waste this one. Bakora didn't give me much.”

“Who?”

“Zebra ambassador. Stopped by on his way back from Kali'Gryph. A charming stallion.”

“What? Lady Radako's our ambassador.”

“I don't know politics. I just know he kissed a hoof, gave me some coffee and silks, apologized but wouldn't say why, and went on his way.”

Broadwings nearly replied, but then thought better of it—there was no telling what an enemy as resourceful as the Grey Mare might be able to turn to her advantage. He saw a question beginning to light her eye, and hurried to preempt it.

“You fought an impressive battle today. I'm amazed with your ability to wring so much out of simple ponies.”

“Thank you.” She took a mouthful of coffee, found it hotter than she expected, and swallowed it reflexively. “And I'm amazed that you're still confused when ponies beat you.”

He ignored the barb, and pressed on. “It was a stunning display of generalship, Mare. I mean...Hooves. It is Hooves, right? Derpy Hooves, you said?”

“If you like.” She didn't comment on the flattery.

“Your ability to mix honor and dishonor is quite impressive.” He paused, then decided his thought was benign, and spoke. “We are often simple in that way. We do not understand that dishonor is a tool to an end; we see to be a principle just as honor is. We expect a dishonorable enemy to always be dishonorable, just as we expect an honorable enemy to be honorable. We expected living bombs, as you used last time. We prepared for that atrocity. We steeled ourselves for greater, unknown atrocities. And yet our cavalry was sliced to ribbons because you didn't use living bombs. You used a cavalry charge—the most honorable tactic of all. And that allowed you to fly the cannon up on the cliffs, and the rest, well...the rest happened.”

“I didn't do any of that with the cavalry,” she said simply. “My officers did, on their own initiative. I only told them to take the cliffs to defend the cannon. They trained their ponies. Morning Melody, I believe, started the maneuver using her own judgment. That's what you don't understand, Broadwings. This isn't a war of personalities. You aren't trying to beat me, or beat Twilight Sparkle, or even beat Celestia. You're trying to beat all of us—every single pony. And you can't beat everypony. If you tear me to shreds right now? Sure. You'll kill me. But Bon Bon will take over and do just as well. And if you kill her? Then maybe Ladyslipper will take over. Kill her? Somepony else will take over. What you don't get is that you aren't at war with Celestia or me or anypony else. You're at war with Equestria.”

“That's where you're wrong, Hooves. I do know that. That's why I oppose this invasion.”

“Did you oppose it from the beginning?”

“No. I believed that you would submit. That you would lie down in your cities and surrender. That the Pony Queen would be killed and that her death would break the spirits of the few ponies with spine enough to resist.”

“Then why did you support it? Just because you thought you could win?”

“Because balance must be—”

“—don't give me that,” she snapped. “That religious garbage is for the soldiers and you know it. I've talked to maybe ten officers this entire war who actually believe it, and none higher than a lieutenant. Why did you actually support this invasion?”

“Every gryphon has reasons for what he does. My heart is not open to your eyes.”

“Broadwings,” she said, making it clear by her voice exactly how patient she was being—and that she might not get much more patient. “You deserve to die. But you are in my tent, unrestrained, as my guest. I have not killed you because I want to get to know you. This has nothing to do with strategy or tactics or anything that might hurt your nation. Your honor won't be harmed either way. So tell me about yourself, or I leave this tent.” She raised an eyebrow, letting him surmise what she would be doing after she left.

“You wouldn't kill a general.”

“I would. You know I would.”

He stopped. He was fairly sure that even the Grey Mare wouldn't endanger her own officers' lives by taking the life of an enemy general in cold blood. Unfortunately, he had also been fairly sure about many, many other things regarding her.

“...I joined...to redeem the name of my family,” he said haltingly, “be...because my father had been disgraced.”

Derpy blew on her coffee. “I joined because you wanted to murder my daughter.” She took a sip.

“You have a daughter?” He couldn't picture her being...motherly. Being a caretaker. Having emotions.

“I did. Maybe I still do. It's hard to know. Life is difficult for the refugees. Disease. Starvation. Bandits.”

“You burn farms, too.”

“Yes. We both do. That's part of war. But I'm not to blame for the war.”

“Neither am I,” he said calmly.

“But you serve the gryphon who is responsible. Why, because your father screwed up once? Is that why?” 

The comment was obviously calculated to enrage—and a gryphon understood baiting very, very well. He didn't bite. “Your Pony Queen started this war with her relentless expansion.”

“You just said you didn't believe that ancestral balance nonsense. ”

“It's not that. Well, not...not just that. Balance and ancestors aside, the fact remains that Equestria's destruction of the natural order means the death of Gryphonia. Your world expands. Ours shrinks. We had to deal with it eventually. If you must take bitter medicine, any hour is as good as any other.”

“But why now? Why now, of all times?”

“If something must happen, then the moment at which it occurs cannot be blamed.”

“You're stonewalling. There's been peace for...well, forever, almost. The same king and the same Princess weren't at war two years ago or five years ago or thirty years ago, as his father was with the same Princess, as his father was with the same Princess. Yet your king decided last year to invade. Why? This isn't idle curiosity, Broadwings. I need to know.”

“Gryphons do not presume to know the mind of His Dreadful Majesty,” he said, as flatly as he could. Maybe a little too flatly, he thought to himself.

Derpy smiled. “Of course they don't, Perry.”

“My name is Broadwings,” he snapped.

“I'm sorry, I forgot,” she said, her smile sharpening as she rose to her feet.“You're a namebearer, right? Ha...ha. I shouldn't make that mistake. Silly Derpy.”

He held his tongue. He wasn't sure where she was going with this. She walked around him slowly as she spoke, seeming as if she might pounce on him at any moment.

“It would be rude of me not to address you by your hall's name. Your court name. Your court name, Perry. Used in a court. And I only know about one court in Gryphonia, though I admit I am a very simple pony. That would be your king's court. And that means you spent quite a bit of time in the palace. So tell me, Perry. Was the great Broadwings a bootlicker without a brain? Was he going to redeem his father's name by remaining unaware of what was happening? No, no, I don't think so. Broadwings was a gryphon with drive. And a gryphon with drive doesn't sit on his pretty little lion-tail and wait for someone else to tell him what to do, does he? No. He knows what's going on.” She had again circled around to his front. She stopped walking, and looked over her shoulder at him. “Doesn't he?”

“I—“

“Tell me why you really invaded, Broadwings.”

He didn't respond.

“Tell me, Perry.”

“I am Broadwings. A namebearer will not dishonor himself by—”

“I know. You're also Perry.”

“Don't play with me,” he growled, and downed his coffee in one go. “Provocation will honor-bind me to respond.”

“I know that, too.” She sipped her coffee.

“Why are you asking me all of this? What do you think you will gain?”

“I want information. I want to understand you. To understand what exactly I'm fighting. You can help me.”

“I obviously won't.”

“I will kill you if you don't help me. I'm not bluffing, Broadwings. I will kill you and you will die alone and unseen, and frankly you are far too intelligent to simply believe that the stories of ancestral halls are true. You will die and that will probably be it, and nobody will ever know if you talked or not—not that conversing with an enemy in a war you don't support is dishonorable in the first place.”

“You'll let me leave if I stonewall, because you don't want to set a precedent of murdering surrendered officers.”

“We'll see. Would you like another cup?”

“No.”

Derpy smiled deviously. “You know, in that last battle? We didn't fly our cannon up there to the cliffs. Nope. We had Earth ponies drag them. Earth ponies are capable of astounding physical feats, you know. We're probably going to be using more mobility in our artillery deployment going forward, now that they've demonstrated how effective the concept is.”

“...why did you tell me that? What would drive you to tell me that?”

“I'll ask again before I continue. Would you like to assist me, Broadwings?”

“I am a gryphon. Telling me your plans will do nothing to change that. I will not barter secrets.”

She leaned back, gesturing with a hoof as she talked. “My biggest strengths are that I understand the way crowds think and that I am good at thinking up unexpected ways to solve simple problems. My army's biggest weakness is that my soldiers are inexperienced, and that unexpected developments have an inordinate effect on their morale. Also, my infantry will never be able to stand against a sustained lion charge, so I have to keep finding ways to nullify that disadvantage, and frankly I won't be able to forever.”

“I don't understand. What are you doing, Mare? Why are you--”

“--my personal biggest weaknesses,” she continued, her smile now malicious, “are my struggles with morality, identity, and my desire to be loved. There's also my relationship with the stallion Macintosh Apple, who is usually called Big Macintosh, with whom I spend upwards of ten hours a day, and on whom I am completely emotionally dependent. If he were to be killed, I'd probably fall apart emotionally. I also have a daughter named Dinky—not by him, mind you—who is in the Southmarch, and who I am very, very guilty about abandoning. If anything were to happen to her I might kill myself. Do you understand yet, Broadwings?”

“Mare, this is insanity. I cannot--”

“--All right then, we'll continue. I also have in this camp Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo, three little fillies, though they're growing quite quickly now. Sweetie Belle is the writer of many propaganda songs, Apple Bloom is Big Mac's sister, who he protects like a daughter, and I believe Scootaloo has no special importance but the other two would defend her to the death. They would be quite easy to kill as well. Do you understand yet?”

“Mare! Are you mad?! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to tell me these things? Aren't you afraid I would tell--”

“--Good,” she nodded. “You're beginning to understand. Let's see. My logistics framework right now is nonexistent. I'm entirely reliant on local villages bringing me food and materiel, and on capturing food and materiel meant for your armies. My army is nowhere near as mobile as it appears, since it can only operate in areas where I have established relationships with each particular village. A bit of simple recon work would let you figure out where I can and cannot go. Do you understand yet?”

Broadwings' eyes opened and his pupils shrank with dawning recognition. “...If I came back to my army, I would use this to defeat you. If I told any other gryphon, they would use it to defeat you. You...you have...”

“Yes. I have sealed your fate; you will not see your home. I can't let you leave now. I absolutely can't. I can now either kill you or keep you prisoner until this war is over—and I don't keep useless prisoners. It's now out of my hooves. One or the other. You pick. Kill yourself to protect a king who will ruin your country and your people, or keep yourself alive and work with your enemy.”

“...then you have elected to kill me. I would rather die than harm my homeland.”

“Harm your homeland? Broadwings,” she said sternly. “I am considering invading Gryphonia. Strongly considering it. And I haven't ever lost a battle. If you don't tell me why this happened, I will assume it happened because your king is insane and needs to be deposed for the safety of the world.”

She leaned forward, her eye burning with the force of her will. “So this is it. You are the last gryphon I will talk to before I make my decision. You are the only gryphon I will talk to before I make my decision. If you tell me truthfully why this war has begun, I will act according to what you have said, and I will ensure you are kept safe and comfortable until we sign a peace. If you do not tell me, I will kill you, and I will not stop fighting until every holy mountain is a pile of broken rubble and bloody feathers.”

He stared at her. She stared back.

“...it's not simple,” he muttered, after a very, very long pause.

“Nothing important ever is,” she replied.


---

Mount Kali'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. February, 1251.


Perry walked down the damp, cold halls, as he did for hours every day. No, not Perry. Not any more. “Broadwings” now, though he wasn't sure he'd ever live up to the name. Not that it's much of a name to live up to now, he thought. His father had been Oracle to the King. His father was no longer Oracle. And that was all that Perry—that was all that Broadwings knew about why he had been awarded the responsibility of representing his ancestral hall. It seemed like a cruel joke, almost. Harold Broadwings had been stripped of his honor for reasons none would speak—and his son was elevated despite having done nothing to warrant it in his short and sheltered life. As he walked, he approached the King's meditation chamber, where his father had once spun tales of distant crises and future dangers. It was all nonsense, of course—Oracles were always nonsense. And Perr—Broadwings hated that nonsense; it was idiotic that his family's standing had been reduced to its ability to speak vague and fanciful riddles. 

But as he drew closer, he heard something coming from inside. The King's voice, speaking softly and intently. To his new Oracle, perhaps? Perhaps. He came up to the door, and listened closely.

I found what you wanted, a voice like giggling sleighbells rang in his head. The lions are going to rise up in 1204! You should do something about that unless you don't mind that they're going to rise up but I think because you asked me when they would rise up you probably would somehow mind that. But I think that's dumb because a lot of things are on fire. It's so pretty!

Broadwings put a talon in each ear-hole. He heard the voice just as clearly and sharply. The king spoke again, indistinctly.

You're cranky. You should be more specific about when “next” is if it's that important to you. If I asked you to read the next page in a story and didn't tell you what page I was on, you probably wouldn't read the one I wanted.

The king spoke again, indistinctly. Broadwings edged closer to the door.

I can't know everything at once, silly! That wouldn't even make sense. You can see a long way when you look out the window but can you see where you are on the continent? Nope!

Broadwings crept closer still. He could now make out what the king was saying: “--enever you manage to see that future, then. Have you any word on mutton production this year?”

I saw something earlier but I can't remember what it was right now. I think it was good though. I told the scribe what it was. The little boy one. He wrote it down.

“Excellent. And on internal threats?”

Hmm! I saw you alive and well but kind of upset looking and you were older and things were different in the castle and the light was funny.

“I am constantly upset, with good reason. But I am older? This is well in the future?”

Yes. I think so! Ha ha unless you get better looking as you get older!

“Heh. That hasn't been the case for decades, pony. I can relax, then?” 

Broadwings shook his head in disbelief. He had never heard anyone make a joke at the King's expense. He could not imagine anyone doing so and surviving.

Relax! Ha ha ha of course you can. Hold on. You're saying--ohnonononono it doesn't work that way! There's lots of pasts and lots of futures, and if you do things differently you mess around with which ones are real to you. So if I say that something is true it only means it's true if things happen like they happened, and if you change how things happen then you change what will happen!

“Impermanence is part of existence, with threads of fate beginning and ending throughout the tapestry of the universe—but that does not mean that the threads of fate are split.”

Ha ha ha ha sure! That's true in some ways. And wrong in lots of ways! But so is everything I say ha ha and you still listen to me. And you know that you're dumb for listening to me and you still listen to me! You're funny.

Pressed up against the wall next to the doorway, Broadwings had never been so curious about anything in his life. There was a voice ringing in his head, speaking what was either profound knowledge or abject insanity, and insulting the King all the while. The King was talking to it, asking it questions about the future, and calling it “pony.” And this was the replacement of his father's services? He needed to know what was happening. He needed it like an imprisoned gryphon needed to stretch her wings. He needed it like a drowning lion needed air. And so he looked into the chamber.

And there, floating mid-air, was an upside-down pony, her eyes lazily drifting spirals, her mouth in a dumb little grin.

Hello, the voice tinkled in Broadwings' head.

---

Equestria


“I've had many gryphons refuse to tell me things,” Derpy said as she poured another cup of coffee. “I don't think I've had any who refused like that. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's an entertaining story. Kinda falls apart at the end, though. A pony with weird eyes who looks dumb but is surprisingly talented at something you thought you were supposed to be good at? That's a real creative one, Perry. I'm sure you had to look real far to find some inspiration.”

“I am not lying,” he said, as he looked intently at the dirt between his feet. “Deception is for those who do not have the courage to refuse.”

“I still don't really believe you,” she said.

“Good,” he nodded. “If you did, I would lose a great deal of respect for you. Still. It's true regardless.”

“Is the king really that obsessed with threats to his power? He's ruled longer than most gryphons have lived.”

“Longer than any other gryphon has lived,” Broadwings agreed. “But he's earned every year. The lions are constantly rebelling. The nobles are constantly trying to put their own sons and daughters on the throne.”

Derpy thought a bit. “He's trying to get them out of the country, then.”

“Them? Who? Are you talking about the nobles or the lions?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Both of 'em. You know, band 'em together and send 'em off to fight an enemy. Keep the country safe by sending the dangerous ones out to go be dangerous somewhere else. Is that what he's doing?”

Broadwings looked physically nauseated by the suggestion. “His Dreadful Majesty would not be so indifferent to the lives of warriors.”

“If he's smart he is. A good leader can't care about individual lives.”

“That...is a horrifying statement.”

“And it's one you believe wholeheartedly,” the mare replied, “even if you're too ashamed of yourself to admit it.”

---

Mount Kali'gryph


“Ah, Broadwings,” the king wheezed, scraping a talon against his beak. “I had the distinct pleasure of stripping your father of his name in this very room, in the presence of this very pony.”

“Is--is this why you dishonored him,” the young cock half-shouted, completely neglecting courtly protocol. “To replace him with this insane, riddle-speaking pony?”

The king fell silent: usually an alarming state of affairs, yet the look of confusion on his face made it clear he was not attempting to intimidate. When he finally spoke, it was in a hushed tone. “Riddles? What...what do you mean?”

“Well...I mean riddles. Riddles like what she just said. 'Things happen like they happen and if they happen to happen then happening won't happen them' and nonsense like that.”

The king turned towards the pony. “Why did you talk to this young gryphon as well as to me?” he asked. “Did I not make it repeatedly clear that secrecy was a prerequisite for our cooperation?”

You did! I didn't talk to him. I didn't even see him until he walked in the door.

The king turned back. “Did you hear our conversation?”

“I didn't hear much of what you said, Your Majesty. I heard all of what the pony said, though.”

“Did you hear what she said just now?”

“That she didn't see me or talk to me? Yes.”

The king sighed heavily. “If your father was as attuned to disturbances in the Flow as you are, then perhaps...perhaps he was not in fact the charlatan he appeared to be. I am indeed angry that you have transgressed on your sovereign's private counsel, but...but perhaps it is a useful transgression. Yes, Broadwings, this pony is my new Oracle.”

Glad to meet you, the voice chimed. I'm Screwball. I didn't see you coming but I think we're going to be friends now!

“I am honored to learn your name,” Broadwings replied hesitantly.

Yep. And you're Perry!

The cock hesitated, nodded, and bowed. The king watched him intently.

---

Equestria

Broadwings stretched out a wing, then folded it back against his body. Derpy stirred her coffee—purely out of habit, as she had neither sugar nor milk to put in it.

“He appointed me Oracle, actually,” the young prisoner said. “It was only for appearances' sake; Screwball was still the fortune-teller, but he didn't want to present her to the court because she was...well, for obvious reasons. I just stayed with her. Talked with her. Reminded her what she should be looking for. Wrote down what she said.”

“...but, what is she? What was she doing? Was she crazy or magic or what?” 

“I don't have any idea. She looked like a pony. She sure didn't act like one. And most of what she said was true. That's all I knew.”

“And the king talked with her frequently?”

“Yes. He insisted on talking with her—alone, completely alone. But I would listen anyway. He kept asking her the same questions. About threats on his life. About...about other things. Private things. And the pony would answer him, but...but she'd say other things, too. She'd talk about the future of Gryphonia. She'd paint pictures of a land ruled by ponies, where gryphons begged for food, unable to coax grain out of the earth, unable to feed their herds. Of a land where bands of lion bandits stalked the countryside, murdering their former masters. Not every day. But often. Often enough that the king started asking about that.”

“But...that doesn't make sense. The borders have barely moved, and—”

“—and they've only moved because we abandoned that area after a lion rising. Ponies expand into every inch of land they can find, but your Queen has not allowed you to encroach on our borders. So, no. I did not believe Screwball. But...she can by very convincing when she wants to be. You'll find yourself trusting everything she says even if it doesn't make sense, and you won't be able to explain why except that you don't have any choice but to believe it. Like everything you think, everything you want to be, everything you are as a gryphon—or a pony, I guess—depends on believing her.”

“So what did she want? Why did she say all of that?” Derpy was leaning forward, her eye wide. 

“I don't know. But he started asking her how he could stop that future from coming. And every time, she told him there was only one way: to 'kill Celestia.' Then, one day, we began preparing for war. And then, one day soon after that, Screwball wasn't there any more. That's what I know, Mare.”

“So that's it? That's why we're at war?”

“I think so.”

Derpy nodded, then ran her tongue across her lips. “You're telling me we're at war because a magic floating crazy pony who speaks in your mind and sees everything in space and time manipulated your king into declaring war, for reasons you don't know, and then disappeared once the war started.”

“Yes. That's what I'm saying, but—”

“—I know I had a crossed eye, Perry. But that really doesn't mean I'm stupid.”

“It's true. Every word of it. Every word is true.”

“I don't believe it. I absolutely don't.”

“If I were stonewalling,” he pleaded, “would I have told you about our problems with the lion uprisings? Would I have said our reasons for going to war were invalid? Would I have done that? Please, Hooves. I have taken a great risk by giving you information known only to myself, Screwball, and the king himself. I may be shamed eternally for it. Please, Hooves. Please. Do not waste my sacrifice by ignoring it.”

She had seen many gryphons begging for their lives. She had seen some, in pain, begging for their deaths. She had never seen one begging her to make their dishonorable deaths count for something. 

“It's against my better judgment, Broadwings,” she said, “but I'll write Canterlot about this and send a courier. I can't act on what you've told me right now. Not alone. And I don't know if a word of it is true. But I do believe that you believe it's the truth. And that's enough for me to be interested in it.”

“Thank you, Hooves. Are we done now?”

“Yes, I think we are,” she said with a generous smile. “You've actually been really helpful. I'll talk with the guards about moving you into a nicer tent, and we'll—”

“—there is no need for that. I will never be able to return to gryphons. I will return to my family, who I hope will understand why I have done what I have done.” He lifted a talon to his throat.

“Broa—” she began, then stopped. Arguing was useless.

“Watch, Hooves. I will not die unseen. And you will learn what it is to be honorable.”

He pulled the digit across the flesh. Derpy blinked. Nothing had happened. Yet almost immediately after, the feathers on his throat began to darken, and he began to make a wet, bubbling noise. He grimaced wordlessly, and he fell to the ground, his neck gashed from side to side, blood pouring out his throat and onto the ground and into his lungs and mouth, his breath burbling through the choking blood.

Derpy stared at his body for a minute, offered a half-hearted salute, then turned and left the tent.


---


Derpy sat alone in her tent. I pushed him too far too quickly, she thought. I pushed him too damned far. I didn't mean for him to—no. No, I'm kidding myself. I knew what would happen. I knew from the beginning that he wasn't walking out of that tent. Because the Gray Mare doesn't keep prisoners. She shook her head. And now, because I pushed him too far, a Gryphonic general has just died—as a prisoner in my care. I imagine my officers won't be too pleased to hear that I've just signed their death warrants if they get captured. Well. They'll just have to not get captured, then. 

She pulled her map a bit closer to her. She measured again. 484 miles north by northeast. 484 miles and this war is over. 484 miles and the Gryphon King's head is on a stake. 484 miles and Gryphonia is gone forever. 484 miles and we're safe forever. 484 miles.

Suddenly, a magenta pegasus stumbled through the tent flap, wings twitching with exhaustion. She stopped, saluted, and fell to her knees. Only with great effort did she return to her feet. “Urgent Message from Field Marshal Sparkle,” she announced, then collapsed again.


---

Appleoosa, Equestria


Celestia stood in the shadows cast by buildings along the narrow main street, and watched the dust swirl in perfectly circular loops as the evening winds blew. She liked frontier towns: nature seemed to work on its own, but it was clear ponies were in charge. She kicked up a little cloud of dust with her gold-and-white hoof, and watched it scatter away.

She looked up, squinted, and saw the purple pony coming closer. Good. Very good. She had been waiting for days. She was running low. She wouldn't need much more.

Another five minutes passed. Ten. And then the pony walked past the little town well. And past the first homes. And past the general store. And right up to Celestia.

“Hello, Topsy,” she said.

“Hello,” Screwball said, pawing at the ground. “I'm real tired. Do you know where I can find Celestia?”

“Of course,” the Princess said.

Screwball looked up—and then her eyes went wide in recognition.




> XXXIV. Appleoosa, Equestria. July, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Appleoosa, Equestria. July, 1252.

Before Screwball stood a white Earth pony with tightly curled purple hair.

“Mama,” the lavender pony mouthed wordlessly, before finding her voice. “Is it you?” 

“Topsy Turvy,” Celestia replied, her voice heartbroken. “Why are you killing ponies? Why are you doing this? Is this how you were raised?”

“Mama,” Screwball whimpered. “You...you...”

“Topsy,” Celestia repeated mournfully. “What are you doing?”

“You...but...you died, mama. You're dead.”

“Topsy, talk to me. What are you doing?”

“You're dead. This...is a trick.” Her voice grew angry. “You're dead and this is a trick. I don't like tricks. On.” The pebble on her little green hat flashed white, and Screwball felt her mind closing. Celestia, too, felt her horn growing numb—their connection to magic had been severed. Zebra alchemy was not magic, however. Not in the same sense. Despite the Occultation, Zecora's shape-change potion maintained its effect.

“This isn't a magic trick, sweetie. Now talk to me. What are you doing?”

Screwball thought a bit, biting her lower lip. She furrowed her brow, then gave up. “...I'm not sure what I'm doing. I'm never sure what I'm doing, mama. But I need to kill Celestia.”

“Why, honey? I love you.”

“I know you do,” Screwball said, almost as if to reassure the pony in front of her. “But Celestia is bad.”

“How can she be bad? She took care of you for so long.”

“She didn't, mama! She said she would but then she put me in the school with the smart foals probably so everypony could make fun of me for being stupid. And she was always too busy to play with me when I was sad. Always! I was just her pet stupid pony!”

“That isn't true, Topsy. I watched you every day. I watched you every single day.”

“You were dead, mama, you couldn't--”

“I did watch you, precious girl. I saw you were very good friends with the little bright-yellow unicorn colt. You had lunch with him every day, in fact. What was his name again, Topsy?”

“Sun Dazzle,” she squealed in happiness, before her face clouded over again. “...so you saw...but...he just liked me because I made him feel smart.”

“He liked you because you were funny, and in a good way. You saw many things other ponies couldn't see. Real things. Funny things. You were always a clever foal. Never a stupid one.”

“But...”

“You were a clever foal and Celestia loves you for it.”

The purple pony shook her head, mouthing indistinct, silent words. She rubbed her face with a dusty hoof.


---

Borderlands, Equestria.


Derpy Hooves walked through the sparse forest, Big Macintosh by her side. The day was warm and breezy; the sun warmed their skin and the wind blew gently through their fur.

“That's a pretty bird!” Derpy pointed at a little bluebird in a tree. “Haven't seen one of those in a while. Wonder what he sounds like when he sings?”

“Funny 'bout that,” Mac said. “The birds aren't sayin' a whole lot. I mean, they chirp, but not hardly like they did back home. Back when we took care of 'em.”

“Well, ponies haven't been taking care of them. Maybe they're waiting for someone to tell them what to say,” Derpy said.

“Maybe they prefer the quiet,” he said, shaking his head. “Sometime you don't want some pony tellin' you what you need to be sayin'.”

“If they didn't like it when we led them, they could have left,” she countered.

“Sometimes ya stay even when ya don't like it,” he said bitterly. Because ya have to.”

“We're talking about birds, Mac,” she said, smiling sadly. “Birds.”

“You're never just talkin' about birds. Not any more you ain't.”

“...Mac, I'm still a pony. Sometimes I do want to talk about birds.”

“But you're thinking 'bout the war. You're thinkin' it just the same.”

“Always,” she agreed. “That doesn't mean I don't want to talk about birds.”

“Are you ever gonna stop thinkin' 'bout it? Ever? I ain't ridin' you. I wanna know. Is the war all you are anymore?”

“Mac! I was trying to talk about birds, and you started talking about the war! I almost never talk about the war on our walks. You can't bring it up and then get mad at me for thinking about it. That's not fair. I don't play games like that with you.”

“It ain't a game, Derpy. I'm worried 'bout you. That you're gonna do somethin' real stupid.”

Derpy exhaled, blowing every bit of air she could out of her lungs. Then she breathed in deeply, relishing the grass-and-wildflower-perfumed breeze, and then out again. And then she turned to him again.

“That's what I'm worried about, too,” she said at last. “That I might do—or not do—something stupid. But let's not talk about it now. I'll call a council this evening. We can lay out all the information and discuss it then.”

“You don't need piles o' maps to know what the right thing is.”

“I said we'll talk about it later.”

“A'right,” he said begrudgingly. “Later.”

---

Appleoosa, Equestria.


“But--” Screwball stammered. “But Celestia thought I was--”

“--Celestia brought you in because she thought you were delightful,” the princess said gently. “Just like your mama did. Just like everypony who ever met you did.”

“No. She thought--”

“--Celestia loved you very dearly. She still does.”

Screwball searched for something to say. “But...but...she...Celestia...killed daddy.”

“No. Your daddy died protecting your mama. It was very brave, and very sad.”

“No. Celestia killed him. She turned him into stone.”

“She imprisoned Discord in stone, Topsy. Discord was not your daddy. He hurt you very badly.”

“No he didn't! He made me smart. He made me strong. He made--”

“--he made you miserable. Your mama only wanted you to be happy...and I only wanted you to be happy.”

“She didn't! Daddy made me what I am. Celestia wanted to keep me as a dumb little pet. Daddy said so.”

“Topsy. Remember Celestia? What she looked like?”

“Yes,” Screwball said impatiently.

“Do you remember lying by the fire with her, on Hearths' Warming Eve? With a cup of cocoa with the little pink marshmallows?” Celestia's voice had been soft. It softened further, still.

Screwball was silent. Her breathing grew heavier, and more ragged.

“Do you remember how Celestia would stroke your curly hair with her hoof, and would say it was beautiful? Do you remember how you said the Hearth's Warming tree was silly because trees are from the forest and the forest is cold and full of monsters? And how we laughed? Do you remember that, Topsy?”

Screwball gazed at her hooves. Celestia saw a tear run down her snout and fall into the dust. And then Screwball raised her head, her face twisted in fury.


---

Borderlands, Equestria.


Five ponies sat in a circle around a map, a ring of lanterns providing a steady glow. Derpy Hooves, wearing her cape and eyepatch, sat facing the tent flap. To her left was Brig. Gen. Bon Bon, head of the infantry of the Army of Northern Equestria. By Bon Bon was Brig. Gen. April Showers of  Bridleshire, who had been with the army since shortly after their first engagement, and who was now head of cavalry. To her left was Brig. Gen. High Roller of Canterlot, a veteran of the New Equestrian Army and chief of artillery. Completing the circle, and to the right of Derpy Hooves, was Big Macintosh. Nopony was certain of his rank, or if he even had a rank any more—he seemed to show up everywhere doing everything—but everypony accorded him all the respect they did the General herself. Off to the side, Davenport scrawled notes, as he did during every meeting.

Derpy Hooves spoke first. “Our scouts are telling us that the gryphons are retreating to the north. They're going for a little-used pass. It'll be a dangerous trip for them, so it looks like they'd rather face the certainty that many of them will die on the slopes than risk another battle with us. Congratulations, ponies. It seems you're more frightening than death itself.”

Derpy spoke with a faint but noticeable tone of pride. The others seemed more unsettled than anything else.

“It's not over, though,” she continued.  “Not in the slightest. The gryphons are mobilizing another army, and have been for the last few weeks. It won't be ready to fight any time soon, but it will be ready soon enough, and when it is we'll have to fight this war all over again. Our first priority, of course, is to ensure the remnants of the current invasion cannot assist the next. Bon Bon, I want your infantry to harass and, if possible, destroy the retreating Gryphonic forces.”

“I think...it might be that a pegasus would be better suited t'that one, General,” she said respectfully.

“High winds, cold temperatures, low visibility, and jagged rocks aren't a recipe for aerial success. Send your best infantry. The Ponyville Guards would probably be our best bet. Think creatively; I've given  Major Almond of the Royal Artillerists a few suggestions as to how you and he might be able to use Gryphonic cannon powder for this mission. If you need a few pegasus or unicorn ponies for your plans, let me know, but keep in mind the limitations of the other races.”

“Now,” she said decisively. “That's the first order of business. The second is what we do next. To be blunt: the second is whether we invade Gryphonia and how we do it.”

Bon Bon nodded in assent. April Showers nodded, though she seemed a bit unnerved by the topic. High Roller winced. Big Macintosh remained expressionless.

Derpy waited. Nopony said anything. “Arguments in favor are obvious: They have attacked us. They are very likely preparing to attack again. And given the insanity of their king, they will, most likely, continue to make war on us until either we or they are dead. Therefore we must end this war by ending his reign. What are the arguments against?”

There was silence.

“Are there any arguments against?”

Bon Bon glared at High Roller, as if she were daring him to speak. High Roller said nothing.

“Anypony?”

Big Macintosh cleared his throat.


---

Appleoosa, Equestria.


“I do remember,” Screwball said, her voice cold and sharp. “I remember very, very clearly. My mama was dead then. And I was happy that day but that night I was sad because I wanted my mama to be there laughing with me by the fire. And she couldn't, because my mama died and when ponies die they die forever. And that day I was happy but that night I realized no matter how happy I was I would always miss my mama forever, because when ponies die they stay dead forever. No. You aren't my mama. My mama is dead.”

“Topsy,” Celestia said. “Pay attention to me.”

“No. You look like my mama and sound like her and smell like her but you can't be her because she's dead. And when a pony dies they don't come back. Ever. Not even my mama. Not even when I try to make her. And if Screwball can't do it that means Discord can't do it, and if daddy can't do it then nopony can. Either you're a liar or I'm crazy again but the pebble turned off the magic so I'm not crazy so you're a liar.”

Celestia readied a spell in her mind.

“So, liar pony, I'm going to see what you really are. Stand still. Cracked.”

In an instant, the pebble flashed, and Screwball felt her magic flooding back. She began to probe the mind of the pony in front of her. Immediately she felt a surge of light flooding her senses. She stumbled backwards. First in surprise. Then in awe.

Before her shone Celestia, hovering midair, radiating the brilliance and the power of the Sun, emanating the splendor of a thousand years of unquestioned and unquestionable rule. Golden light poured from her; the blue skies behind her were a clouded midnight by comparison. Her magnificence was all-consuming; her radiance was all-encompassing. She was the font of a millennium of power; she was the object of a millennium of worship. She was undimmed by time, or by tears, or by scorn. She shone with holiness; she shone as a goddess inherently and perpetually glorious. She was the pure hope of ponykind, the infinite heat of the cosmos, the undaunted strength of the ages. She was beautiful. She was terrifying. She was irresistible.

Screwball fell to her knees, grimacing. She stayed there, fighting herself, for some seconds, overwhelmed with the humbling majesty of the Princess. She shuddered in terror. She fought to gain control of her mind. She could scarcely think.

“TOPSY TURVY,” Celestia shouted, her voice crashing across the desert plains like a thunderstorm. “END THIS NOW. REJECT YOUR CORRUPTION. EMBRACE YOUR TRUE SELF.  AND RETURN TO MY PEACE.”

Off, a giggling bell chimed in Celestia's head. 


---

Borderlands, Equestria.


The other four turned to look at Big Macintosh. He often sat in on the meetings; he often followed the General wherever she went. Yet he rarely spoke. And he had never contradicted her in public.

“I signed up for one reason,” Big Macintosh said. “One. Reason. I signed up to protect my home. Because a pony's home deserves protectin'. But I ain't in it for revenge.”

“It ain't revenge,” Bon Bon shouted, anger in her voice. “Didn't y'hear her? Hock, doncha have eyes of y'own? This war i'nnt gonna end till we end it, and I ain't of a mind to sit an' wait for 'em to come'n take anoddah swing at us. 'at right, High Rollah?”

“Calm down, Bon Bon,” High Roller said in his impeccable Canterlot accent, “I can scarcely understand you when you get agitated.”

“Oh fer th'lovea—getta load 'a this pony, poppin' off like he's somepony. Newsflash, idiot—me and the General were winnin' battles while you was still tryin' to figgir out what color hoof polish you'n y'boyfriend were gonna wear to th' Let's-All-Surrender Ball.”

“Bon Bon,” Derpy said quietly. “That's more than enough. High Roller is a general of equal rank and you will respect him as such.”

“See what I must put up with?” High Roller asked, putting on a show of being hurt. “The nerve of some ponies, and how they treat others! It's appalling, is it not?”

“I didn't say I disagreed with her. Now,” she said, turning her attention to the stallion to her right. “Mac. This isn't about revenge. You know it isn't. I've killed only three gryphons in retribution during this entire war, and that was because they had kidnapped your sister. Everything else I have done has been done out of necessity. This is no different.”

“It ain't necessary. You don't walk into a pony's home and kick 'em in the teeth because you think they might pick a fight with you later. That ain't right no matter who you are, and it ain't right even if they picked a fight with you yesterday. All they deserve for pickin' one fight is getting' one lickin'.”

“It's not about 'deserve,' Mac. Nopony gets what they deserve in war. Tell me, how many wars has Gryphonia lost?”

There was silence.

“That's a question for everypony. High Roller? I'm certain you know.”

“Eight, General,” he said, though he looked at Bon Bon as he said it.

“Good. Do you know how many losses were followed by another war within a decade?”

“Of course I do. A unicorn officer can be expected to know military history.” He let the remark hang until the moment before Derpy would have said something. “Eight.”

“Good. How many did they win? Just tell me, no gloating.”

“Six.”

“How many of the two defeats led to a third war?”

“Both of them did.”

“So have they ever lost a war and then committed to peace?”

“...no.”

Derpy said nothing. Neither did anypony else. Everypony looked at Big Macintosh. He, too, said nothing.

“If we let their kingdom live to fight, we will fight them again,” she said quietly.

“Then let 'em come,” Macintosh spat, his hooves crossed. “I'll defend my home a hundred times, but I won't attack theirs.”

“I don't care what you won't do. This discussion is about the army.”

“Like it always is, huh? Never about what we want. About what I want. About what's best for us. Always about how you can kill gryphons better.”

Derpy felt her cheeks flush with shame, and with anger.



---

Appleoosa, Equestria.


It wasn't very nice of you to lie to me about my mama. I knew you were bad. Screwball, no longer kneeling, was now floating in front of the Princess, her eyes swirling spirals, her mouth again fixed in its little grin. If you want me to end it I can ha ha ha ha ha. I think first we need to get rid of that horn and those wings. Then you can be a stupid ugly little Earth pony like me ha ha ha. The thoughts, as long as they were, came into Celestia's mind as one single chime of a bell. Screwball shut her eyes.

Canterlot, Celestia thought back, then disappeared in a flash of light.

Screwball opened her eyes. In front of her was nothing but sand and sky and the scattered buildings of Appleoosa. “Cracked,” she whispered.

Her pebble glowed again, and she returned to the ground, her mind hers again. Her knees wobbled. The memory of the last few minutes flooded into her senses. She shook with holy fear. And then she shook with hatred. And she shrieked. She shrieked long and loud. She shrieked with anger and frustration and hatred. She shrieked until her eyes were red with blood. She shrieked until her voice was raw. She shrieked, as the confused and terrified inhabitants of Appleoosa looked on.

And then, her throat torn and raw, she stopped. She looked around, then saw a pony peering through a window. She exploded in a mist of blood—a raw and uncreative kill, fueled only by rage. It didn't make Screwball feel better. It was too easy. She saw another pony. He, too, exploded, exactly as she imagined.. Still too easy. She growled, then burst a building into shards and splinters. And then another. And then five. And then ten. And then half the town. And then she formed the wreckage into an enormous whip, and the whip swung around her body, tearing through buildings and ponies and trees and rocks with equal ease. And she shut her eyes, and shuddered with anger, and a shockwave exploded from her body, disintegrating the whip and breaking rocks into sand and turning the bodies of ponies into pulp. And the desert around her burst into flames, and was scoured by thousands of bolts of lightning, and then fell silent and still.

And she stumbled forward, and she fell to the ground, and she lay in the bloodied, charred dust where the town had been, and she cried.


---

Borderlands, Equestria.


Derpy stood, her eye narrowed to an angry slit. “Macintosh. Apple. You are an officer in the Army of Northern Equestria under commission of Princess Celestia, and have sworn an oath both to her and her appointed officers. No, I do not care about what you want, nor should I care, nor should you care. We are at war and our one and in fact only concern is the welfare of Equestria. Other feelings are irrelevant.”

Big Macintosh stood as well, his frame seemingly filling the tent. The others backed away from the argument in both fear and discomfort. “You don't even have feelings any more. You're just anger and plottin' is all you are.”

“We all have feelings, Mac! All of us! Bon Bon does. April Showers does! Even that little prissy High Roller does!” They all shrank down at the mention of their names, for fear she'd yell at them next. She didn't. “But we can put them aside because that's what leadership is! Leadership isn't about making yourself feel good. Hell, anypony can make themselves feel good. A foal does that! You need to stop being a foal, Mac.”

He clenched his teeth, then growled. “So...why is it exactly you want ta continue this war, Derpy?

“I don't, Mac, I want to end it.”

“No you don't. Invadin' is makin' it longer. Why do you wanna invade?”

“Because they'll invade again if we don't. Because the Gryphon King is dangerous. Because even if they sign a peace we won't be safe. Because their entire country and way of life are oppressive. Because we can win if we do it, and we'll never have a better chance. Because we owe it to--”

“--that's way too many reasons, Derpy. You know what I learned about reasons? I'm sure I told ya. Ponies only ever have one reason for what they do. You can have things that make it a good idea, and things that make it a bad idea, but they don't do it because of those.  They do it for one reason. And if a pony points to a bunch of things? It's cause they don't wanna talk about the real reason. So what's your one reason, Derpy? Is it--”

“--it's because I want to--

“--is it because you can't bear the thought of it all bein' over? That you got no clue what you are except the queen of this murder machine, and once it stops murderin' you ain't got nothin' left? That it? You're gonna kill hundreds of thousands of livin' souls so you don' have to admit you're just a sad little pony who ain't secure in herself enough to make real friends?” He was shouting by this point, his self control having abandoned him entirely. “That's buckin' it, huh? You're gonna tear an entire damned country to pieces—maybe two of 'em—so you can go on livin' this childhood beatin'-up-the-bullies fantasy? Is that it, Derpy? Or maybe I should say Bright Eyes? Or Ditzy Doo or Gray Mare or whatever the hell you are?”

He stopped, breathing heavily. He looked at Derpy, then immediately looked away in regret. Her face was now tear-stained.

“Mac,” she whispered. “You are dismissed. From the army. You may take your sister and her friends with you. Goodbye.”

“I—I didn't—” he stammered.

“You just did, yes. And any other pony would be thrown in prison or worse for that. I'm letting you leave now, free and clean, because I love you. So leave. Please. And don't say anything else.”

She turned to the others. She didn't wipe her face clean. “I apologize for his behavior,” she said in a broken voice. “As we were saying.”


---

Canterlot, Equestria.


“Did it work, sister?” Luna asked hopefully.

“No,” Celestia half-whispered. “Not at all. She's going to come.”

“So she is in Appleoosa now. That would mean, then, that she will be here in...”

“Maybe a month. Probably less. If she figures some things out, then much, much less.”

“Talking did not work,” Luna said, almost to herself. “Perhaps you will have better luck next time?”

“No, it didn't work. And it won't work. I finally let her see me, and she tried to kill me as soon as she physically could.”

“Most likely because you had lied to her. I told you the plan was foolish, sister. You should have presented yourself honestly.”

“No, Luna. She would have killed me instantly. That's all she wants—to kill me. And if I had used Zecora's potion to transform into some other pony? No, no. She kills most ponies who challenge her or obstruct her. This way was our only chance.”

“You do not know that.”

“It's too late now; we can't very well try it again,” Celestia said, then sighed. “I'm not sure it's even worth fighting her. I showed her my full presence, unrestrained, channeling the Sun—and she shrugged it off like it was nothing. She can kill with a thought, and she can turn off her mind and become an angry ball of magic. Oh, and she can turn off magic if she wants to, too. How can we fight that?”

“I've thought a bit more about your plan. The other one. With the Elements.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“Almost certainly not.”

“I know. But is it worth the risk?”

“Almost certainly not.”

“Well,” Celestia said. “You should go talk to them, then.”

“Me, sister? Twilight idolizes you beyond reason. She would appreciate hearing from you again.”

“That's why you will do it,” Celestia said sadly. “If you and I live, it will not be goodbye. If you and I die, she must learn self-reliance and excessive sentimentality will not assist with that. Besides. I do not want her last memory of me to be...to be me meekly accepting an inevitable death. I do accept that I may die, and I will fight, but she needs a more...vigorous image to base herself on. I want her to remember me as she does now—leaving sentiment aside to go fight for my life and my land.”

“Are you certain that is wise, sister? She draws her strength from sentiment.”

“...no. You're right. It isn't wise.”

“Then why...”

“Because I don't want to say goodbye, Luna. I don't want to put her through that.”

“You should. It will be good for her.”

“...I know.”


---

Borderlands, Equestria


High Roller spoke cautiously, trying to avoid looking at Derpy's heartbroken face. “The thing is, General, we've demonstrated that it is very difficult to maintain an invasion force in the face of popular resistance.”

“I'm going to free the lions,” she muttered. “Free all of them. They'll fight for us.”

“But,” he said, “that would require enormous changes to their civil society. Can we oversee that?”

“Not our problem.” She leaned her head against a hoof. “They wanted to hold slaves? They made that bed. They get to lie in it. We'll set up a government. They can decide whether they want to make it work.”

“Is that responsible?”

“Who cares? Our responsibility isn't to gryphons. It's to ponies.”

He stopped. She stared straight ahead, into empty space. 

“General,” High Roller said gingerly, “I worry that you are not in a frame of mind to give these affairs the attention they deserve.”

“I've thought through this a hundred times, Roller. I'm not in the mood to pretty it up now, no. But it's what we have to do.”

“It seems...it seems like quite a chance.”

“It isn't,” she said quietly. “I've got information from the gryphons suggesting I'm destined to win, and Field Marshal Twilight Sparkle corroborating the validity of their source. I'll go over it with you later, if you're curious. But I'm sure about this, both on its merits and because of the magic-destiny angle.”

“So...” April Showers said. “Are we actually going to do this? As in...are we going to give the orders today? We're committing? Just like that? We're all going? Shouldn't we put it to a vote or something?”

Derpy cradled her head in her hooves, then spoke without looking at them. “Yes. Vote now. Mac cast his already. Feel free to cast the same kind of vote if you like. No punishments. No repercussions. Anyone who doesn't want to come with me, go home and be proud of what you've done for your country. Anyone who wants to come with me, stay and end this for good. And yeah, High Roller. I'll give the soldiers the same chance. I guarantee you nopony leaves.”

“Well I'm stayin',” Bon Bon said. “'Til I die or the Gryphon King does.”

“I trust you, General,” April Showers said. “To the end.”

“I trust you also,” High Roller said. “I have enormous reservations, but you have made mockeries of my doubts so many times in the past...well...I cannot help but override them now.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Derpy said, looking up. She looked anything but glad.


---

Canterlot, Equestria.


The throne room was dark; the few torches on the wall did little to illuminate such a cavernous space. Twilight Sparkle walked nervously up to the princess, as she had so many times before.

“You're back,” Twilight said uncertainly.

“I am.”

“Where did you go?”

“I went to talk to Screwball. It did not go as well as I had hoped.”

“But she didn't kill you!”

“She tried. I fled. I will not flee from here.”

“...oh,” Twilight said. It was a surprisingly potent 'oh.'

“Twilight, Luna is talking to your friends now. She'll say much the same thing I am about to say, but I thought you deserved to have some time alone with me before...before you left.”

“What is she saying to them?”

“She's saying that your army needs to leave—to leave and go north.”

“But we're hardly—“

“—I know,” Celestia said, her voice as reassuring as a thousand years of practice could make it. However, your mailmare friend is likely going to be approaching a decision point very, very soon. And what she decides to do will shape the future of Equestria and Gryphonia forevermore. You six need to be there to assist her, both in making the decision and in riding out the consequences. She will need what soldiers you have. And more than that, she will need you six.”

“Oh. I...I understand, Princess.”

“I know you do,” Celestia smiled. “You were always the cleverest of my students.”

Twilight shut her eyes as tight as she could. “Princess, please tell me you aren't going to die. I don't want to say goodbye again. I don't want to ever say goodbye.”

“Twilight Sparkle, I can tell you that I have no intention of dying--and I can tell you that you are more than capable of doing far more for me than you think you can.”

“But I don't want to replace you! I want to be your student! I want to read with you and talk about what we read and write about what I read and write about what I've learned and new magic I've researched and—and I want to learn from you and I want you to tell me I'm a good student! I don't want to be a princess!”

“Twilight, if I were to die...you would not be replacing me. Nopony can replace another pony. I have had many favorites throughout the centuries, and not one has replaced another. My tutelage was the cradle of your mind. But it is unhealthy to remain in the cradle forever.”

“I—oh, I know, I know” Twilight said, tossing her head as she spoke, “oh, I've said it to myself a hundred times. But it doesn't matter. It never matters. It's not about what's good for me or you or anypony else. I don't care about that. It's not about that stuff!”

“What is it about, then?”

“I...” she stopped. “I love you,” Twilight whispered. “And I don't want to be alone.”

“You have your friends. You love them, too. And they will always be with you.”

“I know. I do love them. But you're special to me.”

“I am. And I love you too, Twilight. You are special to me, too.”

“Really,” Twilight said, a fillyish smile on her face. “Am I really special?”

“You are the most special student I've ever had.”

Twilight smiled broader, tears in her eyes. “Could you tell me that again?”

“You are the most special student I've ever had.”

“Again? And tell me you love me?”

“Twilight, I will always love you. And you are very, very special.”

Twilight hugged Celestia tightly, relishing the feeling of the Princess' fur against her nose.


---

Far North of Canterlot, Equestria.
One week later.


Applejack sat in her tent, unenthusiastically eating a peach.  It was far too soft, and far too sweet, and far too...too wet. But it was fruit, and more importantly it was in her hooves, so she wouldn't complain too much.

A red nose poked though the tent.  “They told me you were in here,” a familiar voice said.

“Mac,” she said quietly, then shouted. “Big Macintosh? What the hay are you doin' here?”

“Thought I'd pay my little sister a visit. Mind if I come in? Apple Bloom wants ta see you, too?”

“Why the heck are you even askin'? C'mon in! All of you!”

The enormous red stallion came slowly into the tent, as Apple Bloom weaved around his legs. The filly then saw Applejack, froze in disbelief, then grinned, and ran up to hug her sister.

“Aw, my goodness, look at you two! Oh, you're so big Apple Bloom, and Mac, you...you...wait. Why are you two here? Weren't you up with the army up north? What happened?”

“Er, well,” Big Macintosh began uneasily. "It ain't exactly easy to explain..."

"Then explain it," Applejack said. "I got a couple hours before I gotta be anywhere."

"Well," he began, then trailed off.

Applejack raised an eyebrow.
> XXXV. Equestria-Gryphonia Border. August, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Equestria-Gryphonia Border. July, 1252.

The army stretched before her: stretched as if it were incapable of ending. The hundred pastel hues of the tens of thousands of ponies met her eye as a swirling pointillist fantasy, and their ranks and their banners formed rigid geometric abstractions. No tree cast a shadow on them. No cloud obscured the hard sun. No pony stood beside General Derpy Hooves. The Grey Mare met her army's hundred thousand eyes with her one.

She felt it: the gaze of fifty thousand ponies, each begging to be commanded. The windows to fifty thousand souls, all begging to be led. A hundred thousand ears were pricked, every one begging to be filled by her voice. Her army lay before her—lay as a willing lover does. And she closed her eye and let the power wash over her.

And then she opened it, and she spoke.

“Ponies! Our fur is tattered; our hooves are split. We have gone without food. We have gone without blankets. We have gone without sleep. Our endurance has been heroic, but endurance alone could win us nothing but time. Our victories have been glorious, but victories alone could win us nothing but time. For a year now, we have fought for time. We have fought to delay; we have fought to escape; we have fought to deny. We have fought, always, for one more day—we fought to survive, if only so we might fight again to survive.

“When the winter winds bit and we huddled against the naked bodies of our friends for warmth, we prayed that we might hold onto the warmth of life for one more day. When we were faint with hunger and our legs threatened to give way beneath us, we summoned our last reserves of strength to take one more step, and then somehow found energy enough to take one more after that, all so we might march to safety and live for one more day. When the enemy moved freely in our homeland, we struck at her lifelines again and again, slowing her advance so that before the reckoning we might have one more day. When we were at last surrounded by a fierce and unforgiving enemy, we fought against overwhelming odds, and then against greater, and then against still greater, proving in three great victories that the heart of a pony is stronger than the talon of a gryphon, and winning each time the most precious prize: the right to live for one more day.


And so we have marched. We have starved. We have shivered and we have bled. We have struggled and we have sacrificed, all that we might survive for one more day. And now, ponies, on this day, at this moment, we stand on the border of Gryphonia. Behind us are our charred homes and our desolate farms; behind us are our grieving families and our mourning communities. Behind us is the price of war; behind us is our punishment for trusting our northern neighbors. But before us! Before us lie fertile fields untouched by famine's hand. Before us stand great cities on lofty mountains, glittering with the fruits of theft and slavery. Before us runs a scattered and fleeing army, once proud invaders and now refugees in their own lands. Before us sits a twisted king on his wicked throne, cursing our valor and plotting his revenge. Before us, ponies, is a teetering empire of cruelty.

“Ponies, Gryphonia is a land of predation. She is built on the enslavement of the proud race of lions, whose courage and honor you know all too well. Her perversely 'honorable' culture rewards the murderous and punishes the peaceful. Her wealth is pillaged from her neighbors and extracted from her own downtrodden, and serves not to enrich the people but to reward the cunning and the brutal. She is not a land of ponies, content with grass and water, no. She is a land of beaks and talons and fangs; she slaughters the living and devours their blood and flesh. Such a predator cannot live in peace. She must kill, or she will die. But because of our courage, Gryphonia has failed to kill. Now she must attempt again—and she will attempt with all the desperate fury of a starving and wounded beast. 

“There can be no doubt that she will attempt again, on a day soon to come, at a moment of her choosing. But on this day she is reeling on her heels, and at this moment she wobbles on her high peak, struggling to regain her balance. Either she will find her footing and pounce again, or she will be hurled to the distant ground. We have arrived at a moment of precarious balance. We have arrived at a moment when the life and death of nations must be decided. Soldiers of Equestria: we have arrived at our moment.

“And we will not let our moment pass. We who have felt the gryphons' blades pressing against our throat will not wait for our enemy to ready them again. We who have felt the dull aches of exhaustion and the sharp pains of starvation will not wait for our enemy to burn the next season's crops. We who have seen the lifeless corpses of our comrades and the butchered bodies of our friends will not wait for the gryphons to murder again. No. We will not wait. I will not wait!

“So ponies! Strike with me! Strike with a terrible resolve and an unprecedented ferocity! Strike with the blinding speed of a pegasus! Strike with the unerring precision of a unicorn! Strike with  the overwhelming strength of an Earth pony! Strike with the tenacity of the soil; strike with the subtlety of a spell; strike with the sudden thunder of a storm! Find the gryphons who thrust their knives into our backs while we slept, meet them face to face, and thrust your lances into their hearts. Find our enemy, and destroy her before she can raise her claws in defense. Surround her cities, and overwhelm them as a hurricane does. Meet her enslaved lions, who have never fought us of their own will, and greet them as our free and noble sisters, and their ferocity will be the lightning in our storm. And as the cleansing rains rinse the battlefield of blood, together we shall rinse the Earth of the bloody Kingdom of Gryphonia!

“Soldiers of Equestria! I stand on this boulder, precisely on the line between the holy Principality of Equestria and the profane Kingdom of Gryphonia. And as of this day; as of this moment—as of two minutes past noon, on the 28th of July, in the Year of our Princesses 1252—” she turned, took a step away from the army, and looked over her flank, “—the fall of Gryphonia has begun!”



---

Scootaloo galloped through the singing and marching soldiers, her buzzing wings propelling at a reckless speed, her gangly legs used only to keep her off the ground and to make quick turns. All around her, voices sang, and she peered through the chorus for one voice in particular.

Mother and I went down to camp, to meet with Captain Boatwheel
There we saw the ponies marching thick as Trotsburg oatmeal
Gen'rl Derpy keep it up, Gen'rl Derpy, Gray Mare,
Win the war, ignore the shot,
And with your soldiers stay fair.

Scootaloo shook her head as she darted around the loose formations of ponies. She didn't like this song; it was downright disrespectful in her eyes. But the soldiers seemed to like it—though she couldn't imagine why—and Sweetie Belle had a knack for writing exactly what ponies wanted to sing, and for singing exactly what ponies wanted to hear. That was her special talent, after all, with bell-and-note cutie mark to match. No wonder she didn't want to go back with Apple Bloom.

Gen'rl Derpy heard the news that gryphons were invaders
“All right gals, we'll starve right now, and we'll kick their flanks later.”
Gen'rl Derpy keep it up, Gen'rl Derpy, Gray Mare,
Win the war, ignore the shot,
And with your soldiers stay fair.

A brown Earth pony mare stumbled over a rock in front of Scootaloo; she leaped effortlessly over the soldier, and took to pure flight. She glided over the soldiers, still scanning for Sweetie Belle's voice, then came in for a landing and resumed her running-scooting hybrid. She was quite proud of her technique, of course, but apparently it wasn't special-talent-worthy. Well, not yet, at any rate.

Gen'rl Derpy found herself in quite a pretty pickle
“If anyone will make us well, a pony who is sick'll!”
Gen'rl Derpy keep it up, Gen'rl Derpy, Gray Mare,
Win the war, ignore the shot,
And with your soldiers stay fair.

She especially hated that line. So disrespectful. Sweetie and her had known some of the injured mares who had volunteered. Sweetie had explained it was black humor, and that the soldiers appreciated blah blah whatever. The suicide attackers were heroes, and ponies should feel reverence and terror, not laugh at them. Who cares what the soldiers appreciate? Most of them weren't even there.

Gen'rl Derpy spat 'em out, like water from a fountain,
Then she looked northwards and said, “gals, time to climb a mountain!”
Gen'rl Derpy keep it up, Gen'rl Derpy, Gray Mare,
Win the war, ignore the shot,
And with your soldiers stay fair.

Yeah, “spat the gryphons out,” she did. Just like water. Nice and easy, if you ignore all the dying and the—wait. There it was. A clear, high-but-strong voice pierced through the mob. Scootaloo jumped up, flitted higher, found Sweetie Belle below, then did a loop and landed next to her.

“Sweetie Belle! There you are,” she said breathlessly.

“Uh, yeah,” she said sharply, “where else would I be?” She flipped her hair in disdain; she hated when ponies stopped her in the middle of a song.

“It's a big army,” Scootaloo replied. “It's not like you're always in the same place.”

“Sure I am. I'm always here. Always at the head of the Ponyville Guards. Why would I be with anypony else? Use your common sense, Scoot.”

“Well, yeah, obviously you would be with 'em, but, I mean, they're not always at the same spot in the columns, so, you know. I've got to run through listening for you.”

“You should just look for the banner,” Sweetie replied, a hint of irritation in her voice.

“I can hear you before I can see the Guards,” Scootaloo laughed. “Your voice is really strong, Sweetie Belle. It's great.”

Sweetie blushed, forgetting her impatience at being interrupted mid-song. “Hey, thanks! Yours is too—oh I mean, um, it's not, um, shoot, that's not an insult, it's just...but, um...I like your wings?”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said eagerly, ignoring Sweetie's awkward fumbling. “They're awesome, huh? Stronger every day!” 

“Yeah...so...I didn't see you at the speech. Did you hear it?”

“Heck yeah,” the pegasus filly nodded, grinning. “Did you hear that spell Lyra put on her? She's getting real good at making the General loud. I think half the planet heard her.”

“Where were you? We always listen to the speeches together. I thought maybe...maybe you found a new friend.” She looked uncharacteristically sad for a moment. “Did you?”

“Nope! Better. I was filling out some paperwork with Colonel Peekaboo. Check it out!” She struck a pose. Sweetie suddenly noticed that her friend was wearing a grey-and-gold-mottled uniform.

“You—what are you wearing, Scootaloo?!”

“Nuh-uh. Scout Scootaloo, First Pegasus Reconnaissance, Army of Northern Equestria.”

Sweetie Belle's mouth dropped. “Are you serious? You enlisted? But Derpy said—” 

“The General said she wouldn't let fillies fight. But I'm flighted now, so I'm a mare, and scouting isn't fighting anyway. Peekaboo ran it past her, and it's okay! I'm a scout now! Isn't that great?!”

“But after all that happened? After we were captured, and...after all that? You still want to go back and see more of that?”

“And when we were captured we were found by scouts, Sweetie Belle. And I thought—well, look, your job is here, writing songs and singing them and inspiring the soldiers and the stuff you're good at. And mine is out there, hiding and running and flying and searching and all the stuff I'm good at. You've seen how fast I can go; do you think a gryphon could keep up? Or slalom around trees like I can? Or would dare dive at a pony who's buzzing along at ground level? I'm perfect for this!”

“You're a filly,” Sweetie said incredulously.

“No. Neither of us are fillies. Being a mare isn't about how big your body is. Are you going to tell me that even after the winter and after all those battles, we're more fragile than any of those recruits are? Are you going to tell me that we can do less than a fully-grown pony can? Because you and I have seen a lot of bad stuff and we're still okay, and heck, I beat the lancers in obstacle races most of the time, and you're the best songwriter in the army. I'm a mare now. So are you.”

“But we're still...and you don't even have your...”

“Face it. It doesn't matter that we're a bit smaller than the others. We're mares. We have responsibilities to this army and to Equestria. You're fulfilling yours every time you open your mouth or write with your unicorn magic. And now I'm going to fulfill mine.”

“Oh, Scootaloo. You...but it's so dangerous. Why risk it? Why bother with the—oh, Scootaloo! I don't want you to get hurt. I can't...”

“Well, I don't plan on getting hurt,” she said, “but honestly, Sweetie Belle, I'd rather die out there with  a uniform on than spend all day hiding among ponies who are risking their own lives. And if anypony should be out there it should be me.” Her expression turned dead serious. “I mean, I don't...you know. I don't have...I don't really have a family any more. So...if I die, I mean...I wouldn't care because I'd be dead, and nopony else would care too.”

“I'd care! I'd really, really care! You can't just throw away your life because—”

“—I'm not throwing anything away,” Scootaloo snapped, looking up suddenly. “I'm just as useless if I die as if I sit in a camp all day. I'm not going to do either, okay? I'm going to serve Equestria and the General. You should be happy for me, not fretting and worrying like you're Fluttershy or somepony. We all decided to come along with this army, and we supported each other. I'm deciding to come along in a different way. Why can't you support me?”

“I do support you, Scootaloo,” Sweetie said defensively, “You know I do! I just don't want you to get hurt. You're the closest friend I've got left, and I really like you, and I like being around you, and I don't—I don't—” She stopped walking, as did Scootaloo. The ranks of soldiers began parting around them as they continued marching. She bit her lip, then looked around, then stepped in closer. “Look,” she whispered, “I, um...just...when you're out there, promise me that you'll think of me before you do anything stupid, okay? Because I'll be thinking about you.”

Scootaloo saw something in Sweetie Belle's face she didn't quite understand, and felt the glimmer of a strange feeling. She looked into her friend's wide eyes, and her mind swam with emotion. She felt a strange tugging, then she shook her head, and it disappeared. “Okay,” she said, slowly and deliberately. “I can do that.”

Sweetie Belle smiled softly. She looked...pretty. The tugging feeling came back. “I'm glad,” the unicorn said. “Because...like I said. I'll be thinking about you. And...um...if you go out...promise me you'll stop by my tent and say goodbye, okay?”

“Okay. Yeah,” Scootaloo said again, transfixed by the white unicorn. “Um...do you...um...”

“Yes?” Sweetie Belle blinked, and leaned in a bit.

“You know...do you...feel...um...you know...about...me?”

Sweetie Belle's face turned bright red underneath her fur, and she pulled her head back. “Scootaloo! Quiet! We're good friends. That's all I meant. That's all I meant!”

“Ha ha. Okay. Good,” Scootaloo said, her mind clearing in an instant. “Sorry. I just...ah. Sorry.”

“It's okay,” Sweetie said nervously. “Um—no, yeah, it's okay.”

“Okay. Ha ha. Good,” Scootaloo replied, suddenly uncomfortably aware of how fast her heart was beating.

They walked together, avoiding looking at each other. Well...I'm a mare, now, Scootaloo thought. We're mares like any other, even if our bodies are a little smaller. So does that mean I...but that would mean I...so am I...oh, Celestia, I am, aren't I? She looked at Sweetie Belle out of the corner of her eye, and for a few seconds watched her hair bounce as she walked. Her eyes drifted back towards Sweetie's cutie mark, then back to her face. Well, maybe our bodies aren't all that much smaller, she thought with a trace of wonder. Sweetie's eyes caught her own, and Scootaloo quickly returned her gaze forward. She bit her lip. Oh, Luna. Please let her be, too. 

She looked back at Sweetie Belle, who was staring at her hooves as she walked, her tongue poking out in thought. And please keep me safe long enough to find out, she added.

---

North-Central Equestria. August, 1252.

“...and so I told her what I thought of her plans, and she told me to leave. So I did, and started headin' back to Ponyville. Figured I'd start ta rebuild the place. And I saw your campfires so I thought I'd come and see if you was still all right. And that's what done happened.”

“So that's it, then,” Applejack muttered. “You left because you thought your General wasn't thinkin' straight. That she was leadin' us all down a dark road.”

“Pretty much,” he said.

Applejack shook her head. “I...I never thought I'd be so ashamed of ya, big brother.”

Big Mac blinked. “I don't understand, AJ. I thought you'd be on my side here”

“An Apple never abandons her duty. Your duty is to your home, right?”

“My duty is to what's right,” he said darkly. “Talkin' about what's best for Equestria seems to be a handy way to do what's wrong.”

“No matter then. Do you think this invasion is right?”

“Of course not! I--”

“--then what in all things apples and oranges are you doin' runnin' away from it!? You ain't some hoity-toity Canterlot dandy who does what's right so long as it's convenient, are you? No! You're Big Macintosh! If you think somepony's headed to do wrong, you get in their way and you put down your hooves and you say so, and if they tell you to move you tell 'em you ain't movin' until they turn around and go home. That's the way we was brought up, and that's the way you always taught me to be.”

“She kicked me out, AJ.”

“No, she told ya to leave, and ya did. She didn't do no kickin'. I know she didn't, or you'd have kicked back, and ain't nopony kicks stronger'n you. Well, yours truly excepted, a'course.”

Mac sighed, long and hard. “Yeah, AJ. You're right. I didn't have to go. She didn't really make me. I...aw, ponyfeathers. I wanted to leave. To get away from her. Because I couldn't stand to be near her.”

“You hated her that much? That ain't like you.”

“Hate? Well...maybe. I don' know. I ain't had much experience with that kinda thing. I loved her, and I couldn't stand to see her become a bad pony, so I couldn't stand to hear her talk or to look at her lookin' at me, because I just saw all the evil growin' in her. Saw it destroyin' her. Like watchin' your own baby foal gettin' burned to ashes each'n every time I looked in her eye. Is that hate? I don't hardly know. I tried to bring her back. I tried over and over again, and lots of times I thought she was getting' better and then she'd go and do somethin' even worse than last time. So I snapped, at the end. And I said some things to her that nopony should have to hear. And to make it worse...well...they was true things.”

“War's rough, Mac,” Applejack said. “It makes good ponies do bad things. And you gotta deal with hard choices and hard situations the same way you deal with hard work: you put your nose down and do what's gotta be done, because if'n you don't take care of it today it'll be waitin' for ya tomorrow—along with whatever new problems tomorrow brings.”

“I won't do bad things, AJ. I can't.”

“Neither do I. That's what makes Apples the most reliable an' trustworthy ponies around. But we also do what's right even when other ponies are doin' wrong, don' we?”

“...yup,” he said sadly.

“And what's right ain't goin' home when things start lookin' bad, is it?”

“...nope.”

“Then you ain't goin' back to Ponyville now, are you?”

Big Macintosh sighed in resignation. “Nope. No I ain't.”

Apple Bloom perked up. “So I get to go back to the army and Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle?”

The red stallion shook his head. “I can't talk with Derpy again. I can't do it. I won't do it. I don't care if it's wrong to say, but I can't do it.”

“...well...do you love her?” Applejack asked.

“I don't know.”

“But she does love you, right?”

“I think so.”

“Did you ever tell her you loved her?”

“...yes.”

“And who started it between you and her?”

“I guess I did. I mean she was pretty clear that she wanted it but--”

“--then you owe it to her to go back and apologize for hurtin' her, just like you owe it to yourself to keep tryin' to talk sense into her.”

“It don't matter if I owe it to Celestia herself. I can't do it.”

“It don't matter? Shucks, I thought you were a better pony than that, Mac.”

“It ain't about what I owe, sis. It ain't. I can't do it, any more than I can fly or use unicorn magic. Can't you talk to her instead?”

“We'll all talk to her, of course, an' lotsa times at that, but...Mac? I gotta be honest with ya. I think Derpy might have the right idea there.”


---


Rarity came skittering into the tent, a small cloud of paperwork floating behind her. The other five ponies blinked in confusion.

“Sorry I'm late,” she panted. “I simply lost track of time. You wanted flexibility, ha ha, and flexibility requires somepony to make a concrete plan for every possibility! Every single possibility, ha ha, including the insane ones that Pinkie Pie comes up with and which are somehow listened to despite being too ridiculous to even consider implementing, ha ha ha, but listen to me go on like such a loudmouth. What occasions this meeting?”

“Glad you could make it,” Twilight Sparkle said cheerfully. “Big Macintosh here had just finished debriefing us on the activities of the Army of Northern Equestria.”

“Ah, lovely to see you, Big Macintosh, I trust you are well,” Rarity said, smiling sweetly as she took a seat, her papers arranging themselves into neat piles. “And what improbable successes has Miss Hooves embarked on now? Has she, perhaps, scattered the invading armies with a single angry glance? Does the Gryphon King now kneel at our little mailmare's feet? I can't wait to find out.”

“Actually,” Applejack said, “she pretty much has scattered 'em; she beat 'em and then cut off their supply route. And accordin' to Big Mac, she's hellbent on invadin', and by now she's probably already crossed over.”

“Ah. How...surprising a development, and yet so expected. I assume that as a result of this information we will engage in a hasty and ill-considered shift in our strategic aims, without regard to the fundamental facts that have not changed. Lay it on me, Twilight dear, Rarity stands ready to make your most preposterous dreams come true.”

“This changes quite a bit,” Twilight said. “We were sent up to deal with the situation on the border. If we're to be there in time to affect the outcome, we will have to move quickly. We've decided to force a double-time march until we meet up with the other army. Our soldiers will be quite tired, of course, but better we be there tired than not be there at all.”

“Ah, ha ha ha,” Rarity chuckled, “and here I thought you were planning on doing something difficult. I am sure you all considered very deeply whether your soldiers could handle the strain.”

“Yeah, of course,” Rainbow Dash said. “We're all good to go.”

“Yes, I'm sure you are, and I do believe you, since knowing that is your job. But tell me, Rainbow Dash—or, no, tell me, anypony. What were you planning on eating during this adventure?”

They all looked at her in confusion—except Pinkie, who was absentmindedly chewing on her hair.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” she said, still smiling benignly. “I assumed that you had a plan for that. It's just that a pony on a force march requires nearly twice as much food as usual, but I'm sure you were well aware of that, since you decided to come up with a plan without consulting me at all.”

“Well,” Applejack said, “you can make it work, right? I mean, that's your job'n all...”

“Oh, yes, of course, I had forgotten that it was my job to keep us fed. I had forgotten, you see, since I am spending upwards of 14 hours a day trying to keep us fed, and that naturally leaves me precious little time to remember things like that. Thank you for reminding me, Applejack. Well! Seeing as I am tasked with feeding us, I'll just figure it out right now, hmm? Yes.” Rarity's horn glowed, and a series of maps flipped up off the table and arranged themselves in front of her. “Well. I had planned on this line from the northern Westmarch to provide us with a third of our food and a quarter of our cloth, but of course we'll blow right past the rendezvous point, so we can't count on that until we've been in Gryphonia for a few weeks. Hm, and of course the area around Manehattan to replace it is right out, given that there doesn't appear to be a farm left standing, but that's all right, because we were going to draw most of our food from the Fillydelphia region, so we'll just get a bit more from them—ah, yes, same problem as before, what do you know? Those supplies won't arrive in time for us to use them either! Well, there's always the Canterlot line, that one's moving at double-time anyway, and—ah ha ha, silly me, we'll be moving at double time too, so they won't catch up with us either. Well! I'm sure you fine ponies could assist?”

“Um,” Twilight said carefully, “we were going to go through the same route Derpy went through, so we could use the same supply lines she is?”

“Oh, even better,” Rarity said. “A much better plan, isn't it? See, I thought we were going to go through the northwest and then hook east, letting us forage in relatively untouched areas. Ha ha, we're going to go directly north, right through the path of another army, thus denying us any forage but what they neglected to take for themselves. Hmm...yes,  going through an area without forage should roughly double the amount of food we need to take from our supply carts...and we'll make up for it by taking food from villages...that are already supporting an army of Celestia-knows-how-many ponies, and which have been subject to a Gryphonic scorched-earth campaign. Perhaps we can make do by eating their makeshift shacks and shelters! Or we can just skip a step and kill and eat the locals themselves. Well. I can clearly see that you five have thought this through with all the care and caution that befit your station.” She set the papers down, and an artificial-sweetener smile crossed her face. “I suggest we start over, hm? And this time, before we put our dreams to paper, we run them past the pony who turns them into reality.”

Nopony spoke.

“Hm?” She ran a hoof through her hair. “Come, now! Let's plan, shall we?”

“We've got a plan,” Rainbow Dash said combatively. “Let's make it work, huh?”

“No, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity laughed, her voice pregnant with condescension. “What you have is an incoherent daydream, and those tend to get ponies killed, because as we have all learned, reality is not nearly as forgiving of our mistakes as daydreams are. Now. I'm sure it was great fun planning a heroic romp to Gryphonia, but playtime is most assuredly over. It's time to be grownups. Let's not half-ass it, hmm?”

“Rarity!” Applejack snapped. “Watch your language!”

“I shall not apologize for the term. If anyone should apologize, why, it should be donkeys, for being so lazy and unreliable. Now let's not be half-asses, hm? Let's be ponies.”

“Racist,” Applejack muttered under her breath.

“I heard nothing,” Rarity sang. “Now, let's get planning.”

The others looked at each other. Finally, Twilight spoke: “All right, girls. Let's start at the beginning and see what we can make happen. We're here, and we need to get over there as soon as is possible.”

Rarity leaned forward, smiling in satisfaction.


---


THREE HOURS LATER



“All right,” Twilight Sparkle said, sighing heavily. “So we'll double-time east-by-northeast, and meet up with the Fillydelphia caravan, then march north-by-northeast at normal pace, and meet the Westmarch caravan near Manehattan, then turn northeast. We'll then be dependent mostly on our own supplies until we reach the northeastern border, we'll then cross the border along the eastern coast, then we'll double-time northwest until we meet up with General Hooves, around the same time our Canterlot supplies will have arrived. How long will this take?”

“Perhaps three weeks,” Rarity said, “and fewer if you send some pegasus ponies to help the Westmarch carvan speed along. That would let us march faster to Manehattan.”

“Good,” Rainbow Dash said. “We may miss the first battle or so, but we'll be there in time to reinforce her for the rest of the campaign.”

“Wait,” Fluttershy said. “Reinforce? I thought we were going to go there to tell her to come home!”

“We are,” Pinkie Pie said reassuringly. “Wait. Um...Aren't we? I mean, wasn't that obvious? Why would we invade Gryphonia? That would be stupid. We're going to make her stop, right?”

“Yes,” Fluttershy said, “and sign a peace treaty.”

“Uh,” Applejack said, “last time I checked there was a peace treaty between us and the gryphons—one that had been 'round for longer'n the Apple clan's been around—and they broke it outta nowhere for no reason. I thought was pretty clear we were supportin' Derpy!”

“Oh, no,” Fluttershy said, her soft voice developing a bit of an edge. “We were sent to deal with the situation. The situation is that a general has decided of her own accord to raise an army and invade a country. Our goal is peace. We need to stop her and establish a peace.”

“Fluttershy,” Applejack warned, “this war ain't over. We can't all pretend it's over and hide from it.”

“I wouldn't suggest that,” Fluttershy said, putting a hoof to her heart. “I'm simply saying—“

“—wouldn't suggest it?!” Rainbow Dash said angrily. “Says the pony who spent half the war hiding and pretending in her cave?”

“Why, you—” Fluttershy's eyes narrowed. “You take that back this instant, young lady.”

“Young lady?!” Dash shouted. “Oh, that is it.”

“What's it?! You are younger than her!” Pinkie stepped in front of Fluttershy. “Maybe you should listen to her instead of making fun of her!”

“Um, girls?” Twilight grinned nervously. “Maybe we should talk about—”

Rarity leaned back and stretched her hooves behind her head, not bothering to conceal a smile.
> XXXVI. Lower Mora'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. August, 1252.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lower Mora'gryph, Kingdom of Gryphonia. August, 1252.

Scootaloo walked down the little dirt path, her wings twitching all the while. Each time a pony walked out from behind a tent, she flinched. She couldn't recall having been so nervous. In an hour, she would set out on her first official sortie for the Army of Northern Equestria. And before that...well. She would have an answer to the last three nights of sleepless wondering.

She arrived at Sweetie Belle's little tent, and then stopped. She ran through her little scripts in her head. Well, Sweetie Belle, you told me to... no, no, too passive. Maybe something like, I'm about to head out, and I wanted to... no, this is her idea, I should acknowledge that. Perhaps, “Sweetie Belle, I'm heading out and I want to know if you love me because I think I might love you?” No, way too direct. Maybe...

“Oh...wow.” A trembling voice came from inside the tent. “Okay. Well, come in, Scootaloo.” Scootaloo felt briefly nauseous. Aw, buckin' A, that last one was out loud, wasn't it? Well, time to mare up. She adjusted her cap, and walked in.

Sweetie Belle sat on her cot, an officer's cap sitting awkwardly on her fluffy mane. “Hi, Scootaloo,” she said, smiling nervously.  She shifted over to one side of the cot. “Sit down, please.” 

“Um...okay,” Scootaloo said, her courage evaporating. “I didn't mean to...”

“It's okay,” she said. She swung her feet over the side of the bed, and kicked them awkwardly. “Neither did I.”

Scootaloo looked confused for a second, then realized the mistake. “Oh, no! I was talking about what I just said outside.”

“Oh. Was it true though?”

“Well...I guess.”

Sweetie Belle sighed heavily. “...oh. I'm sorry, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo felt her heart sink. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she began, then stopped.

Scootaloo waited. Sweetie Belle said nothing.

“Well, what?”

Nothing.

“Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo insisted. “'Well,' what?”

Sweetie Belle's eyes began to tear up. “I don't know, Scootaloo. I led you on and I don't know why.”

“What do you mean you led me on? I don't get it. I thought you were pretty clear. Were you lying?”

“No!” Sweetie Belle looked horrified. “No, no, no. Everything I said was true. I really do like you, a lot. You're my best friend in the world and I really don't want you to ever get hurt and I want to be friends with you forever and I really do want you to think about me before you do something that might hurt you because I really would be really really hurt if you got hurt. And you said you were going to go and put yourself in danger and I was really really scared you'd go and do something dumb!”

“But...” Scootaloo said, her face still betraying confusion. “But you acted like...like you liked me differently. Like you...you know.”

“I know! I don't know why!” She wiped her wet eyes. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure you'd listen to me!”

“But how did you know I'd...you know? I think having your best friend, like, hit on you would creep out most fillies, Sweetie Belle. And I mean...oh, Celestia, I don't know. I thought for sure...”

Sweetie curled into a little upright ball, and peeked over her knees.“Well... it's not like it's a secret, Scootaloo. I've noticed how you look at me.”

Scootaloo shook her head. “What? I haven't—I haven't—whatever you're saying I did! I haven't thought anything like that—not until you started flirting with me!”

“Sure you have,” she sniffed. “Ever since I got my cutie mark.”

“Well, yeah, that changed some things,” Scootaloo said, her temper rising, “but it didn't mean I, like, loved you or anything.”

“But you just said you did. Outside the tent. That couldn't have just started.”

“Well maybe I do and maybe I did!” Scootaloo threw up her hooves in agitation. “I don't know! I didn't think I did but then you acted weird and then I thought I did and now you're saying it was a trick and I don't know anything!”

“...yeah,” Sweetie said. “I don't know. But...it was wrong of me to make you think I did. Really wrong of me. I...I don't want to date you, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo felt like she had been slapped in the face. She stared at Sweetie Belle, as if the next words out of her mouth might take the last ones back.

“I'm sorry, Scootaloo. But I really don't want to date you. I don't even think I like girls...like...like I guess, like you like girls. You're a good friend and I want you to stay safe and I feel really connected to you but...I think that's it.”

Scootaloo's heart dropped out. She felt her body begin to shake. And she put a hoof around Sweetie Belle's head, and guided her face to her own. And she kissed Sweetie Belle, an awkward kiss with mouth closed, her eyes squeezed shut, tears wetting the fur of both faces.

She dropped her hoof. Sweetie Belle didn't move, forward or backwards. Scootaloo pulled her head back a few inches and opened her eyes. Sweetie Belle was silent and stationary.

“I'm sorry,” Scootaloo whispered.

“Don't be,” Sweetie Belle whispered back. “But don't do that any more. I guess I owed you that for what I did. But we're even now, okay?”

“...okay,” Scootaloo said, her head swimming. “Can I kiss you again?”

“No,” Sweetie Belle said. “We're even. No more kissing.”

“How about on the cheek?”

“No, Scootaloo. No more.”

Scootaloo looked down at the floor. “So...not ever?”

“Probably not, no.”

“Probably not? So maybe yes?” She glanced up.

“I don't know, Scootaloo!” She seemed gripped by a sudden anger, and gestured wildly as she spoke.“I don't think so but I don't understand everything, okay? I'm new at all this and so are you and I don't know everything I'm feeling and what it all means but I'm pretty sure I don't want you to kiss me and I'm really sure I don't want to date you! I want to be friends with you and really good friends but that's all I want, really!” She took a deep breath, then calmed a bit. “Really. Is that okay?”

Scootaloo looked back down. She thought—or tried to. Then she said, “yes,” that word alone, and hoisted herself to her feet.

“Wait,” Sweetie Belle said. “We're still friends, right?”

Scootaloo said nothing, and left the tent.

“Wait! Please wait!” The tent flap fell shut.

Sweetie Belle fell back on her cot.


---


Scootaloo trudged onwards through the green-and-grey karst field, her hooves clopping against the exposed sheets of rock and pressing into the soft dirt. She kept her head down as she walked—partially to shield her eyes from the rising sun, but mostly out of misery.

She didn't understand it. A week ago she hadn't thought of Sweetie Belle as anything but a friend, and she had cherished that friendship. Now the thought of only being friends with Sweetie Belle seemed like a daily torture. Was this how it was supposed to go with love? Was this how it was for everypony else? And for that matter, was she in love or was this some stupid other thing? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She kept trying to focus on the mission: searching for tracks, for broken grass, for the tell-tale scent of char and smoke signifying that a fire had been nearby, for any other sign of enemy activity. But she couldn't think of anything but Sweetie: Sweetie sitting on that cot, explaining that it was all an accident or a trick or some other thing, Sweetie saying that despite everything she had made her feel, they couldn't be together after all. And why did she kindle that desire in Scootaloo if she never intended to fulfill it? What kind of friend does that?

A butterfly flitted across under Scootaloo's nose: a bright purple-and-blue one. She watched it as it fluttered left, and then right, and then landed on her snout. She gently reached for it, but it effortlessly flitted around her hoof, and then settled again on her snout. She reached for it again; again it danced around her attempts to touch it. She narrowed her eyes, and grabbed at it more quickly. Again she was denied, and again it landed on her snout. She snorted, and flicked her snout up, sending the insect into the air. She then leaped at it, but it tumbled under her, and she landed a good two feet in front of it. She spun around and dived at it again, and this time it fluttered back, staying just out of reach. She jumped at it again and again, and each time it managed to flit just out of her grasp. Finally she screamed in frustration, and recklessly charged at it; the butterfly zipped away and out of sight, and she tripped wildly over a large rock hidden in the tall grass, and her face smashed into the dirt.

She lay where she fell for some time.




She was on her back, sadly watching a cloud drift through the sky, when she heard voices. Gryphon voices. She rolled over, as quietly as she could, flicking the dirt off her wingfeathers.

“Look,” one of them said, “I don't care if you're tired, because we're going to have to pick up the damned pace. We've got another fifty lion villages to hit, and the Mare is already sending her propaganda teams all over the place.”

“C'mon, man, I'm tired as heck. We been walkin' a week straight, and we ain't had nothin' to eat but lion cookin', and that's worse than what your mom feeds me the mornings after I screw 'er.”

“Then you should do a better job of it,” a third gryphon said. “She always gives me nice, juicy mutton.”

“Yeah, 'course she does,” the second one laughed, “but we're talkin' bout food.”

“Shut it, Gordon,” the first gryphon snapped. “And you too, Rollie. I don't care what either of you wingless wonders think.”

“It's Roland, Sarge, and my wings are fine.”

“Your name is whatever I feel like it is. Keep it up and you'll be Beth.”

“Well, Rollie reportin' for duty, then.”

“Damn straight," the sergeant said conclusively.

There was a pause. Scootaloo lifted her head, slowly, to watch them through the grasses.

“Your mom's still a whore, though,” Rollie said.

“Real funny, Beth,” the sergeant growled.

“Hey, guess what? Your mom called me lotsa things, too. She called me her little pony, in fact. Guess why? Hey, here's a hint, it's not cause I have hooves.”

“Beth, shut the hell up.”

“Want another hint? It's because she loves my big--”

There was a sharp crack as the sergeant slapped Rollie, who tumbled to the ground. Scootaloo winced. The sergeant then reared back on his hind feet, and kicked one of them into Rollie's stomach. Rollie gasped for air on the ground. Gordon watched with wide eyes.

“Now look here, Beth,” the sergeant shouted. “I don't know what they teach you overgrown cubs in whatever worthless pile of rocks you call your home mountain, but you're in the army now, and that means either got to grow some discipline or I've got to beat some into you. Now which'll it be?”

Rollie coughed. “I'll be good, Sarge.”

“Damn straight you will,” he spat. “That goes for you too, Gordon.”

“Yeah, a'course,” Gordon said with eyes wide.

“Now, let's start over, huh? The Grey Mare wants to hand our ancestral lands to the goddamned lions. So we've got to get them out of her path, or else they'll tear your momma to ribbons and make your sister into some lion's prostitute if she wants to eat. So let's show some hustle, huh? Cause I guarantee you that the Grey Mare isn't going to take a nice weekend fishing trip any time soon. I said hustle, Beth, get up already.”

“I still don't understand why we don't just kill 'em,” Gordon muttered. “Bandin 'em together seems like it'll backfire.”

“Well, we're not ponies, are we? I don't see any hooves on me, do you? No. We're gryphons, and the lions are our guests. And gryphons don't murder their guests out of convenience. Besides, they're more useful to us this way. They go down through the eastern coastline past Manehattan, and suddenly we've got an army in their homeland.”

“Yeah, but what if they defect?”

“You're sayin' the ponies wouldn't attack an army of forty thousand lions?”

“Yeah, I am. What if the lions switch over?”

“Then the ponies have to figure out how they're gonna feed forty thousand predators in the middle of their homeland, now don't they? Either way we win.”

“Sure thing, sarge.”

The gryphons began walking again. Scootaloo waited until they were a good distance away, and then began creeping in the opposite direction. She hadn't found an encampment, no, but surely the General would want to hear about this. A counter-invasion down the eastern border? Lions being evacuated into invading armies? They'd have to--

--suddenly, she heard a familiar high-but-strong voice ringing over a hill.

To arms, my ponies!
Form our batallions!
March on! March on!
And we shall free, our Equestria!

Scootaloo immediately began sprinting towards the voice, her wings propelling her forward, as she juked and jumped around and over rocks and boulders. At last she found Sweetie Belle, tackled her, and then held a hoof over her mouth.

“MZMMNLNN!” Sweetie tried to shout.

“Shhh,” Scootaloo hissed. “It'll be a miracle if they didn't hear you! What the heck are you doing out here? And whisper it!” She lifted her hoof off Sweetie Belle's mouth, but left it hovering as if she might need to plug her friend up again.

“Well,” Sweetie Belle whispered as she sat up, “you seemed really upset and I didn't want you to do anything dumb, so I found out where you were going and then came after you to let you know I still really cared about you.”

“How did you—but then how did you—how,” Scootaloo whispered back.

“Well, when you told me you enlisted so did I, and some things happened fast and now I'm Lieutenant Belle of the Propaganda Department. See?” She picked up her hat off the ground, and plopped it back on her head. “It's pretty much just what I was doing already, only now I'm getting a few bits a week for it and soldiers have to call me ma'am.” She giggled. “So then I went over to the reconnaissance tent and convinced some colt there to let me see your assignment.”

Scootaloo shook her head. “You wouldn't have clearance for that.”

Sweetie smiled, and fluffed her pastel mane with a hoof. “I think you'd be surprised what I can do to some ponies nowadays. I just smile and act real sweet and then they...” Then she blushed. “Oh! Um. No. I didn't mean you. Oh, no, Scootaloo, I'm sorry, I—oh. Oops.”

“Don't worry about it,” Scootaloo said sharply. “I—”

There was a rustling noise.

“Oh, man,” the pegasus whispered. “It's the gryphons. Okay, Sweetie, I'll distract 'em, you get the buck outta here. And look, I have something I need to tell you, that you can't forget, okay?”

Sweetie bit a lip. “Scoot, I know that, I already...”

“No! Listen to me! It's about the lions and—aw, buck a duck.” A gryphon emerged from the tall grass. “Run!”

“You're right,” Gordon shouted, “there was a pony singin' over here! I found 'em!” Sweetie Belle's eyes went wide, and she took off running as the gryphon curled his spine to pounce on her.

Scootaloo pawed the ground. She was about to leap at the gryphon, when she saw a purple-and-blue butterfly out of the corner of her eye, hovering between two little yellow flowers. She narrowed her eyes at the damned little thing--and then smiled. 

Scootaloo leaped into the air, shouting, “hey hey hey!” Gordon's attention snapped towards Scootaloo. She winked at him, then flitted closer, right in front of him. He jumped to grab her, but she let herself drop underneath him, and kicked gently at him as he soared over her. Another gryphon—Rollie—came out of the grass, and launched into flight. Scootaloo began to slowly glide away, watching him the whole time. Rollie came charging in at half speed, but just before impact she snapped her wings, popped a foot to the side, and slapped him gently with a hoof as he went by.

By this point Gordon had gotten back to his feet, and charged at Scootaloo again, and again flung himself at her, this time harder than the last time. Again she sidestepped him, then did a midair cartwheel, repositioning her to jump off Rollie's skull as he came swooping in again, faster than before. For nearly a minute the three danced like this; the two gryphon soldiers charging ever-faster at Scootaloo; the pegasus floating and flitting and spinning and dancing as if the laws of momentum did not apply to her, always appearing within grasp yet always staying just out of reach.

Yet though she seemed to be bouncing about randomly, she kept a close eye on where she was, and a close eye on where they were. Rollie came diving in, his rage outpacing his caution, and Scootaloo again sidestepped him—yet this time instead of swooping past her, through the grass, and into the air, he streaked past her, through the grass, and into a half-concealed boulder. Gordon heard the crack of bone on rock, and he turned his head in time to see the orange pony deliver a coup-de-grace with a hoof.

He, too, charged at her, now in a blind fury. And this time, as she stepped aside, she kicked the side of his head with all her strength. He tumbled to the ground, unable to recover, and rolled to a stop. The gryphon grabbed his head with a talon, and tried to pick himself off the ground. Yet before he could, he saw the purple-maned pegasus soar over to his side. She glared at him, muttered something he didn't understand, then ended him with three sharp hind-kicks to the skull. 

Scootaloo looked around. There had been three. Yet she had fought only two. She listened, but heard nothing. She jumped into the air, and began scanning around.

She felt a sharp pain in her leg, and the ground flew up to meet her. She crashed hard, cracking her body on a rock. She tried to get up, but her legs hurt far too much to move. She opened her eyes, and with great effort lifted her head. A short spear had pierced through her thigh and into gut, blood pouring from the points of entry. She dropped her head back to the ground.

Almost immediately a gryphon stood over her. “You're a clever one,” he said. “Certainly more clever than those worthless recruits. But you're not a soldier, are you? You're a child.”

“I'm not a child,” Scootaloo coughed, then spat out a mouthful of blood. “Haven't been for years.” She stared at him, eye to eye. “I'm a soldier.”

“Well then, soldier. I confess you'd be the first pony I've killed. I was hoping for a more formidable enemy.”

“I killed...two of yours,” Scootaloo coughed out. “And you kill a child?” She raised her head, and spat another mouthful of blood, this one landing on him. “Two to one. I win.” She dropped her head back down. “Now hurry up. This hurts.”

“Brave. Proud. Thank you for assuaging my guilt.” He pulled out the spear, and drove it forward again.

Yet this time, it missed her body entirely, cracking into the rock. And he tumbled to the ground, a white pony standing on his chest. 

“Cover your ears, Scootaloo,” she yelled.

And then her horn glowed, and she screeched—one high sustained note, sung with a hundred voices, piercing and ringing. Scootaloo groaned in pain. The gryphon bent double and covered his ears with both claws. And then Sweetie Belle turned, and with a series of kicks to the forehead easily crushed the gryphon's unprotected skull.

She immediately ran over to Scootaloo's side.

“Thank you for saving me,” she unicorn said breathlessly.

“Don't mention it,” the pegasus replied.

“I'm sorry about the noise.”

Scootaoo raised her eyebrows. 'Yeah, that hurt. I didn't know you could do that.” She opened her eyes wider, as if trying to see something.

“It's a chorus," Sweetie Belle said, forcing enthusiasm. "It came with the cutie mark.”

“Hey...I'm kinda dying, I think," Scootaloo said quietly. "I'm feeling a little lightheaded and you're hard to hear.”

“Oh, Scootaloo, no, oh—“

“—look, what I was trying to say was...well, was that the lions are moving with the east and they're moving to the together...and...the lions...and...Mane...hatta...”

Sweetie looked around in panic. Scootaloo fell quiet.

“No you don't,” Sweetie Belle shouted. “No you bucking don't!” Her horn glowed, and she tore the uniform off the gryphon sergeant, and mocked up bandages and a tourniquet. And then she put little balls of cloth in Scootaloo's ears, and her horn glowed again, and she shouted for help with a hundred voices.


---


The tent was nearly empty. There was just Nurse Redheart, a heartbroken white unicorn, and an unthinking, unmoving pegasus.

“Is she dead?” Sweetie Belle asked. Nurse Redheart didn't answer. “Oh, I shouldn't have followed her,” the unicorn wailed. “It was so dumb of me!”

“Yeah,” Nurse Redheart said in a dry voice. “It was really, really dumb.”

Sweetie looked up at her, with tears in her eyes. “Oh,” she said plaintively, “why would you say something like that?”

“Because it was.” Sweetie blinked. Nurse Redheart's lips weren't moving, and she shook her head in confusion. Sweetie Belle looked back at Scootaloo.

The orange pony's eyes were still shut. “But who cares. Give me some water already,” the pegasus said, her voice raspy and forced. “I need water.”

“You're not dead?!” Sweetie shouted.

“I feel like it,” Scootaloo croaked. “Where's my water?”

Nurse Redheart ran off with a mumbled apology, fetched a pitcher of water, and brought it to Scootaloo. Sweetie both levitated the pitcher and lifted Scootaloo's head, and the pegasus drank.

“I'm so sorry,” Sweetie Belle said. “Oh, I'm so sorry, for everything, oh I've been so stupid in so many ways Scootaloo, I just—”

“Shut up,” Scootaloo said in a rattling voice. “The gryphons...are rounding up the lions and gathering them...into an army, and are going to invade along...the...eastern border so we don't use them against the gryphons...go tell the General.”

“It's okay. She knows. There were lots of documents on the bodies of the gryphons we killed.”

“I killed,” Scootaloo corrected.

“I killed one too. The one who threw the spear at you.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

There was a silence. Nurse Redheart quietly excused herself.

“Hey, um, Scootaloo? I just thought you should know...”

Scootaloo shook her head sadly. “Sweetie Belle, you don't love me. Please don't pretend because you feel bad.”

“No, dummy. Not that. Look at your flank.”

Scootaloo tried to move her head to see her flank. She couldn't make it that far; her neck was too stiff. She realized that most of her limbs had been immobilized anyway—except, oddly enough, for the one that had been hit by the spear.

“Oh, right!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, dashing to a supply trunk. “You're hurt. I'll get you a mirror.”

She came bounding back, and held the mirror so Scootaloo could see her hip. There, on the orange fur, was an image of a blue-and-purple butterfly between two yellow flowers.

“See! Your cutie mark,” Sweetie Belle bubbled.  “And you got it because you're a really good flier and you saved me! I was so worried you'd die before you saw it!”

Scootaloo put her head back down. “Oh, man,” she whimpered. “Rainbow Dash will so make fun of me when she finds out I've got pretty much the same thing as Fluttershy.” Sweetie Belle sadly lowered the mirror.

Then Scootaloo thought a bit, and smiled to herself. “Well...actually...” she said, then looked back at Sweetie Belle. “I guess it was pretty awesome how it happened. Do you think I could take another look at it?”

Sweetie Belle grinned and raised the mirror again. Scootaloo contentedly examined her little butterfly until she fell back asleep.