SBMS156
The prisoners of the Company told their stories to us, as we did our rounds, trying to figure out which ones were going to die, who could be saved. We also ran them through the portable showers, hosing them down, trying our best to get all the trench-filth and caked-on dirt and mud out of their coats and their manes; they had been washed down on the way into the cages, but the first pass through the showers had hardly cleaned all of that eternal mud off of our prisoners.
But the prisoners also told them to each other, to whomsoever was in ear-shot. It was almost compulsive, like they had to talk about it. I suppose they had to justify themselves, to others, to themselves, to whatever was listening. Excuses, the defeat, their surrenders:
"The battle-line was more of a hoof-full of gravel by then. Our group kept to the front, but me to the back of that front, you know? And I kept hearing this voice, you know? A mare's voice, sad. Kinda like my ma, but she never had that fancy accent to her. And all she would say was, they're all going to die. So are you, if you don't lay down. I didn't listen, either, because that, that's the sound of fear, you know? But when the break came, and the ponies came a-tumbling back… I laid down, and found my hidey-hole. And it was like somepony's hoof was holding my mouth up out of the mud.”
"We never got close to the front, just drowning in mud for seven days, worst mud I've ever seen, worst mud anypony's ever seen. Like the whole world gone semi-liquid, like the bedrock of eternity eaten away by swamp-muck. The only unit in the whole damn regiment got off a blow swung in anger, those tartarus-spawned rocketeers. Some evil thing in the night, took it amiss they were firing away at them, and that thing just stooped down and tore them right out of the mud, gobbled them right up. Then it looked around by the fires of the burning rockets, like it was choosing which of the rest of us for dessert. So we booked it, and I don't know about the rest, but I kept going until I found that mud-wallow…”
"Their bolt-throwers, I don't know how they got that rate of fire out of them, I don't know how they got so many little machines on the ramparts. Just dozens, over a hundred of them, firing bolts continuously. They must have had bushel-fulls just laying by their bulwarks. Once the shields went down, we were naked to the world. I heard a filly's voice cry out, bow your head you fool! And I kissed the White Rose's earth. Only member of my crew to survive the counterbattery fire, I am. Never got back up after I went down.”
"And I slipped away as soon as the surviving fool pulled out that damn whistle again, away from the rest of those obedient fools. They were at the fore of that last charge. I don't see any of them here. Don't think they made it. I'm sure they'll kick my flank if they see me again. But buck them – I'm alive, aren't i? The voice was right. Wasn't what we were called to do, this.”
"And I couched my pike, and tamped down my chamfron, and I followed the sergeant and the corporal. And the corporal caught a heavy bolt and I lost sight of her, and the lieutenant just disappeared about mid-field, but the sergeant? She got over the ramparts, and the rest of us, we followed. The sergeant went down with a spear-head through her eye-slit, and it was nothing but lunacy over the top of that rampart, but by the White Rose, we got over that wall. We coulda made it, if half these cowards hadn't… well. Lost my pike in the crush, lost my chamfron in the tumble back when everypony saw those hell-beasts a-coming, twice as big as bison and blacker than the depths of Tartarus. And I coulda sworn I heard the lieutenant yelling to lay down arms and surrender. Except she sounded younger than I ever heard her, more sure than I'd ever heard the lieutenant sounding. Haven't seen her here in the cages. Are they keeping the officers in a separate cage?”
"And I dreamed of the smoking plain, and the dying regiments. And I saw the slaughter to come, and the weakness of the faithful. And a filly as great as mountains strode over the plain, and looked down at the fighting armies, and my insignificant self, and her coat was as white as snow, and her broad wings were as grey as the snow-laden skies of winter, and her sad eyes greener than the promise of spring. And she said in a clear bell-like tone, in a voice that shook my dream like a harvester drawn over rocky soil, Surrender, surrender. You cannot win by fighting. Your commanders are frauds, they lead you to tartarus. Surrender to the will of the night, for day will betray you. So I did. Talked my entire squad into it. I don't know why they listened… as much mud as there is around here, was easy to just drop into a hole when the sergeants weren't looking. The other night, I saw a white filly in the darkness, and we followed her until we found them rounding us up.”
"There's a crazy corporal over there saying she saw the White Rose in a dream, told her to desert. Me, I saw that damned imp, but I didn't listen to it. Ignored it pretending to be a foal. Trick of the enemy. Wasn't gonna fool me, no damn it. I'm a good foal of the Rose. Why am I here? Because I didn't want to die, you idiot! They club you down, you stay down. If you're lucky, some other squad recovers the ground, and you can get back up and rejoin the advance. Shame we were as far as the advance got that day….”
"I saw her short grey mane, and bobbed tail, and the white coat, and the cutie mark, and I knew her for who she was…”
"…even in a dream, even as strange as she looked with her bat-wings and her slit-pupil stare, the Rose was the Rose, and I knew my scripture…”
"…tartarus-spawn, pretending to be the virginal Rose. Who ever heard of a White Rose with demon's eyes? Lies, lies…”
"…terrible, even more terrible than the sermons the minister used to tell, of the great saviour in the hour of her return. As bright as the morning, as terrible as the dawn…”
"….and yet her voice was sweet, and happy, as if she wanted the best for me? You know? Nobody ever really wants me, I know I'm ugly…”
"…and she said to stop struggling, to stop following bad orders. To wait for my chance…”
"…surrender…”
"…to surrender…”
"…if I wanted to live…”
"…if I wanted my friends to live…”
"…surrender – "
"…surrender to the will of the night, and I asked – "
"…what the hay does that even mean?”
"…but the dream was over. And we woke up, and half of us had had the same damn strange dream. And half of us joined the charge, and half of us faked it close enough to get us out from under the corporals' gaze, and it wasn't even the same half the dreaming as did the shamming. But nopony who charged is here, are they? We made it through the fire, I think.”
"it was when the officers had my squad cleaning up the bodies from the ritual that I knew we had to get away. How is something like that ritual any part of the Way of the White Rose? No, I didn't see what exactly made the corpses, but they had been civilians and locals, before, and after they were spoiled meat to be buried in a mass grave. That just wasn't why I had signed up for the crusade on my marks-day. I've always been a follower of the Rose, my whole family, really. But it was only after I helped dig that mass grave that I needed… I wanted. I don't know. But I weren't surprised when the Rose came to me in dreams and told me our officers were monsters and demons. I already knew that well enough.”
"At least they let the ghouls assault the walls down in front of Braystown. This business, of living ponies charging actively defended ramparts? For the birds. Although ponies tell me even the birds up here turn demonic in the night, and stalk us from the skies. I never saw no white filly, nor heard no filly's voice, but I know a fool's game when I see others playing it. It was the first mud-hole I could find, by damn. Although I'd like to shake the hoof of the filly who dragged me out of that hole, I got a bit too deep. Too much mud to see who-ever it was, but I owe my life to her.”
"And the mud was deep…”
"…deeper than I thought it would be…”
"…I never realized how bad quicksand could be until I fell into that sandy mess…”
"…mud up to my nostrils…”
"…I'm still not sure how I got enough air to breathe…”
"…all night in muck up to my mouth…”
"…better that damned mud, than those terrors overhead…”
"…fire and horror and the sound of raptors' wings…”
"…like every great bird of prey ever birthed by tartarus overhead…”
"…all of us looking in that perfect darkness for some mud-hole to hide in…”
"…I swear that fire-ball rolled right over my mud-wallow, burnt the top layer into a crust, like my grandma's pumpkin pies after she went a bit spare in her old age…”
"…flights of demons killing anypony who stood to fight…”
"…and in the darkness, I heard Her calling me to surrender, to flee…”
"…told me in that fancy accent of Hers, see-enfooir, too imbecile, and I took that to run like tartarus was coming, because as far as I could hear, they were.”
"…there I was, stuck in the mud…”
"…deeper than any well I'd ever seen…”
"…just treadin' mud, stuck deeper than I'd…”
"…all night long, until I was almost too tired to keep…”
"…my head over the muddy water. Why didn't I die? Somepony pulled me out of it. I didn't see her muzzle, but I coulda sworn her fetlocks were grey shaded into white.”
"…like fun I was, I was at the bottom of my hole, some kind of freaky air-bubble. Three of us down there, and I can't tell you how the air held out. Then suddenly, there was two of us, and then one. Darker than the pits of hades, so I couldn't see what was taking them. Then I felt breath in my ear, and a Prench filly asked me if I wanted to live – well, rose-cuttings. What do you say to that? I swear the world turned inside-out, and suddenly I was in the open air for the first time since we tried to hide in that shithole. And yeah, all three of us were pulled out alive, Beehive is over there, I hear Fruited Plain is in the cage across the way.”
"I was going down for the last time, I tell you, and then suddenly – my mouth was full of air, and there was some pretty filly kissing me. And I was free, somehow free. Did I see her? Nah, but no ugly girl can kiss like that.”
"Dying – "
"Drowning – "
"– full of mud –"
"…too much water, too much mud…”
"…and then there was light…”
"…light…”
"…the pressure was gone…”
"…that terrible, crushing pressure – you've never been trapped until you've found yourself at the bottom of a drying mudhole, I tell you what…”
"…the hoof of a young mare…”
"…a filly's fetlock cleaned out my airways, brushing, like this –"
"…saved me, I swear to the Rose, and I couldn't even see her.”
"…saved me.”
"…saved me.”
"…saved me.”
"You talk to a hundred ponies in this cage, and at least twenty will tell you that some Prench-talking mare pulled them out of their watery graves. I don't know if that's true or if everypony's stealing the best stories of the lot to practice for when they have to account for themselves before the Throne. But I know what happened to me, and it's the truth, and it goes like this. I dreamed of the Filly, the white-coated one that looked like the picture-books of the White Rose, only all alien and strange, bat-winged instead of feathered, dragon-eyed instead of doe-eyed. And she told me to surrender, that her will wasn't for me to fight in her name for these demons we call officers. I told her I didn't care what she looked like, she wasn't the White Rose. And she smiled at me, and kissed my cheek, and left me to my night's dreams. But I remembered her when I was trapped in that sandy mud-pit, and I could feel the struggling beneath my hooves, and I realized that while I had the air, there were ponies below me who didn't. And I remembered the filly, and I filled my lungs, and I dove down, and I started digging on my own. And I tried my best to keep those unfortunates alive, and to help them up to the top of the hole. We didn't get everypony out of the hole, but when the enemy came to dig us out, they found more alive than just me. That guy, over there. He's alive because I remembered those sad, green, demon eyes telling me to do something better than fight in her name. And that's something, isn't it?”