Within, Without

War is destructive. It takes without giving back. Property, spirit, health, belongings. It takes all without mercy, without care nor compassion.

But what about those unremembered by society? Those who had nothing to begin with?

What did War take from them?

A short story of a Manehattanite during and after the Great War between the Changelings and Equestria.

An entry for Equestria at War's Fourth Annual Write-Off.

Contains spoilers to the Hearts of Iron 4 mod Equestria at War, but no early context on the EaW universe required.

Mod's wiki page for those who are curious.

Warning: Mild violence.

Written and edited by myself.
Cover made by myself.

Chapters (5)

Chapter 1: Under the Cradle of Manehattan's Dream · 12th Mar 2021 · 1,225 words
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Chapter 2: Under the Throes of the Empress’ Might · 12th Mar 2021 · 1,328 words
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Chapter 3: Under the Cover of War · 13th Mar 2021 · 1,337 words
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Chapter 4: Under the Grip of Changeling Martial Law · 13th Mar 2021 · 1,293 words
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Chapter 5: Under the Protection of the Protectress · 14th Mar 2021 · 1,528 words
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Pete100

Pete100 #1 · Mar 14th, 2021 · 1 · · Chapter 1: Under the Cradle of Manehattan's Dream ·

Where the Friendship Statue stood tall in her everpresent rusty green, slowly withering away in reckless abandon.

Friendship statue?

My eyes spied one of such shops. A rowshop by the name of Rarity For You. Once a place of dresses and suits, fine tailorings, and uppity ponies, now abandoned and trashed, left to rot. Ponnequins laying under a thick layer of dust. A fellow bum sleeping inside it.
The war needed none of them. All they cared about were weapons. Ponies to build their factories, ponies to stamp them, and ponies to wield them. They have no need for restaurants, bars, entertainment areas. The last shop in the row, right there barely holding on. Flickering neon lights, slowly losing to the depth of darkness engulfing the entire block. Once they’re down, so does the entire row. Probably replaced with yet another weapons factory later on.

Then, why not go somewhere else?

One of such, I saw. A terribly thin pony with a white coat, now greyed as much as my own from all the dust. When you see a formerly famous pony by the name of Coloratura dumpster diving, you know that society has flipped it’s lid.

White?

I had once wondered how many else who suffered the same fate as her? Drowning in the dust of rapidly accelerating civilization, forced to walk the dirty road by their own hooves. The answer I received came not in statistics or destructions of their lives, but in the rising of others’.

What does he mean by that?

Machines, ponies, civilization. Fundamentally they never did differ. Just an orderly set of instructed movements governed by restrictive laws. Pour a tiny sprinkle of war, and they would follow the winds of change. For better or worse. More often than not, ponies ended up suffering anyways.

What does that mean?

Pete100

Pete100 #2 · Mar 14th, 2021 · 1 · · Chapter 2: Under the Throes of the Empress’ Might ·

She eventually rolled along, in front of me. “Her Royal General” Daybreaker, or whatever she titled herself on that particular whim. We caught glimpse of each other, and she frowned for a split second. A non-functioning member of society? In her temporary capital of the valiantly defending Solar Empire? Unthinkable. Despicable.

How did she become daybreaker?

Ever since Princess Celestia ascended, if that’s even the correct word, she cranked up the exhausted remains of Equestria up to eleven. More factories, more industry, more military. More bombs, more weapons, more tanks. More everything. Her efforts proved useful at first, as the changeling advances were halted, or at least that’s what the news said.

What does he mean by that?

Eventually, “more of everything” also included fatigue, exhaustion, and unrest. For every truck rolled out of the factory line, every gun stamped, every soldier minted, a pony dies from overwork, hunger, illness, or all three. One of them collapsed right in the middle of the parade, a previously stoic and supposedly hardened soldier. The exact same bum I saw sleeping inside the ruins of that Rarity shop so long ago.

How long ago was that?

Here? Just look at that. A random, two-story apartment block, black with soot from industrial smoke. A couple royal guards, armour gleaming with painted gold, guns strapped on their sides, bucking the doors down. Several ponies inside, all crying with various levels of panic and terror. One of them shot in the flank. More crying and screaming.

But why?

All of the guards entered, one positioning herself on the door, face stoic and brave with a permanent glare. Must be somepony higher up the system, as her body rippled with well-fed muscles. From the inside were shattering porcelain, screams of both adults and foals, several more gunshots, and eventually... silence.

Is that necessary?

Nopony around but me, the sole oneself under the gaze of that guardsmare. She had her gun aimed at me, but she knew better than to shoot. Hopefully. Fortunately, she did know better. Her colleagues went out with a sack of something, possibly bits and rations, in hoof. They left without so much as a double take.

I would have been ready just in case.

They said everything was done for the sake of the war, to eventually ensure victory, and send the changelings back where they belong. Under Solar rule, everypony either desperately wanted to believe that it would end, or they would rather have the changelings enter. Kill them. End the suffering.

You know, I wonder what it’s like being under the changeling rule?

Pete100

Pete100 #3 · Mar 14th, 2021 · · · Chapter 3: Under the Cover of War ·

Late birds stayed. Not to fight and defend, not to work and stamp guns, for industries were all bombed to death. Their purpose was calculated, statistical, and numerical. Acceptable losses. Daybreaker ordered them to stay, as a wicked incitement of desperation, boosting morale of her soldiers and guards not from glory or victory, but from the urgency of defending. Death of civilians shouldered on them, as their responsibility.

What does that mean?

Still, the word ‘rolling tide’ was used for a reason.
Solar forces were akin to a strong, unmoving dam wall. Stout and tough, forever bracing against impact. A tide however, fills a certain space and over it. The tide splashed against the wall, and more often than not trickles of them would push through.

What does that mean?

The tide of war moved along, as everything in the world should be. A single pony behind enemy lines. What do you call someone who isn’t exactly an ally but not really an enemy, but targeted by both anyways?

A stranger?

KvAT

KvAT #4 · Mar 15th, 2021 · · · Chapter 1: Under the Cradle of Manehattan's Dream ·

10721643

Friendship statue?

Pony Liberty Statue. It's rusting green just like the real one.

What does he mean by that?

Ah, that last sentence wasn't supposed to be there anymore. Fixed.

KvAT

KvAT #5 · Mar 15th, 2021 · · · Chapter 2: Under the Throes of the Empress’ Might ·

10722218
I purposely left Daybreaker's ascension and the policies she implemented eventually a bit up to interpretation.

KvAT

KvAT #6 · Mar 15th, 2021 · · · Chapter 3: Under the Cover of War ·

10722643

What does that mean?

That was a nod to Stalin's refusal to evacuate Stalingrad, thinking that with civilians around soldiers would be more pressed to defend.

Pete100

Pete100 #7 · Mar 15th, 2021 · · · Chapter 5: Under the Protection of the Protectress ·

10722680
Are talking about the drowning in dust part?

Pete100

Pete100 #8 · Mar 15th, 2021 · · · Chapter 5: Under the Protection of the Protectress ·

10722684
Ohh. So like a mystery.

Pete100

Pete100 #9 · Mar 15th, 2021 · · · Chapter 5: Under the Protection of the Protectress ·

10722685
Is that for the rolling tide part?

KvAT

KvAT #10 · Mar 15th, 2021 · · · Chapter 5: Under the Protection of the Protectress ·

10722692
Yeah, the "The answer I received..." one

10722696
no, the late birds one

Pete100

Pete100 #11 · Mar 15th, 2021 · · · Chapter 4: Under the Grip of Changeling Martial Law ·

In her place to sweep the dust down under the rug made of pony coats was Protectress Lilac.
Protectress. Hah, the changelings, funny bunch.

Why is that funny?

Guess who had the privilege of standing high above on the pedestal? Yours truly.

Why?

The crowd winced as the changeling behind me pulled a part of my soul away. Nerves blaring, screaming danger and murder, as what little of my supposed “love” seeped away from my being. Couldn’t walk for days on end, but the look of utter disgust on that changeling who fed on me made the long-lasting burning within my spine worth every second of it.

Was his love disgusting or something?

Specifically because it was changeling green. The same colour infesting every nook and cranny of Manehattan. Formerly colourful, with every shade of colour within visible light meticulously painted in extravagance, now all black and dark green and dreary. If ponies escaped the changeling invasion by a skin of their teeth, nothing escaped the true invasion of drab sickly slime green.

What does that mean?

Green fridge boxes. Green dumpsters and trash cans. Green buildings, factories, everything. All green. Disgusting.

I love green as much as the next person, but god damn.

The name Trixie seemed familiar, but the name Starlight rang no bells. Both whispered to each other of some plans. Desires of counter-occupation, liberation, and freedom of ponies once more. Build underground weapons factories, call Griffonian allies, find and contact Princess Twilight. Eradication of changelings from all of Equestria. You know, the works.

Where have they been?

Where’s that Magic of Friendship they so desperately tried to spread now? Ponies talk big of not judging a single entity based on hearsay, but see their leaders making bad decisions and now all changelings became the evil boogeyponies that haunts foals’ bedrooms, sucking their love when they least suspect?

What do their leaders have to do with the changelings?

Pete100