Chapter 23
General Quake had a problem. Ponies were beginning to talk.
Normally he didn’t care if other ponies talked about him.They could say whatever they liked, and he could beat the shit out of them if he didn’t like it. If a pony called him an asshole? Quake would beat the shit out of him. If a pony called Quake a brute? Quake would beat the shit out of him. If a pony said Quake was desperately overcompensating for something? Well, Quake could always complain to Tap about that, after he beat the shit out of him. Therefore, violence seemed at first to be the ideal solution to his new problem.
On his way back to his camp, he saw five young stallions – new meat shields for the army. Two of them he noticed were engaged in a conversation, one of them with an expression of mischievous glee and the other with a look of abject terror. This was where Quake got annoyed.
“Oh yeah,” said the gleeful one. “He likes to fuck the pretty ones, I hear. Better start getting ugly.”
“The fuck is this?” asked the general. The five young soldiers all wheeled around. The terrified one, however, kept his rear planted firmly on the ground. Quake, however ignored him and went straight for the one who had been talking. “You making funny out of me?” The smiled dropped right from the soldier’s face. “You think I’m a funny guy, you cocksucker?”
“Well, no, I, uh...” the soldier stammered. Quake, however, didn’t give him the chance to fumble for an excuse. He grabbed the soldier by the scruff of the neck, and as he frantically cried “wait, WAIT!” he hurled him into the air. The four soldiers watched, slack-jawed, as their companion went careening over the town. The general turned to them.
“So, anyone else think I’m fucking funny?”
The others just stared at him, save for the one who was sitting terrified on the ground. Quake snorted at him.
“Well? Get up.”
“Please don’t rape me...” the soldier sniveled.
Quake slammed a hoof into the ground, and the earth shook. The soldiers stumbled, with the sitting one jumping to his feet.
“I don’t fuck you,” said Quake, “I beat the shit out of you. Knock it off and I won’t have a reason. Got it?”
“Y-yes sir!”
“Good,” said General Quake. “Now stop stammering and fuck off.”
The soldiers scurried off into the camp, and the general followed shortly after.
He entered his tent, looking at the map of the town on his table. Two things were on his mind. First: King Horner was up to something. There would be an attack soon. Second: he was going to kill Brother White. Not now, but eventually, when the moment came that White just pissed him off so much that he wouldn’t bother with his “we don’t want an incident” policy. But for the time being, he was going to have to do something very, very painful...
___________
“...And so...” Brother White looked up from his book at the congregation.
Said congregation consisted of Brother Scroll, Clip, Bottle Top (unconscious), and one bored mare who was obviously only there for the free water and eggs. She had, in fact, finished her eggs, and rather than wait for the end of Brother White’s sermon, she got up and left with her complimentary jug of water.
“Right, just...” White mumbled, trying to get his mind in the right state. “Have a nice day!”
“Well, at least she stayed a little while...” said Scroll. “Y’know... maybe we should require that they sign up before we give them water.”
“Isn’t that like...” White said. “...Extant... exterior...”
“Extortion?” Scroll found the word.
“Well, yeah.”
“I guess...” Scroll shook his head. “Yeah, we can’t do that... you know, maybe we should ask Barrel and Tap for...”
Clip, sulking, got out of his seat in a huff and marched back into the bunk room. Scroll and White looked at him uneasily.
“I think he’s upset about something,” said White.
“I don’t know what, though,” said Scroll. “All of a sudden he just got all... sulky.” He thought. “Did we forget his birthday?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Hmm.”
___________
Clip just sat in his upper bunk, scowling down at the crayon-and-colored pencil drawing he had done before. The drawing was a crude approximation of Brothers White and Scroll, together and smiling. They were in love. Clip was there in the picture, too, also smiling and happy.
And now he knew that wouldn’t happen.
There was a knock at the door.
“Clip?” asked Scroll. “Can I come in?”
“Go away!” said Clip.
Scroll slowly opened the door, peering inside. “Is something the matter?” he asked softly.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“No.”
Scroll stood at the doorway for a minute as Clip went back to sulking in his bunk. Clip didn’t look at him, instead just staring down at his picture. But eventually, Clip did speak.
“You lied to me.”
Scroll’s posture sank and his eyes lowered. “So you overheard,” he said.
“You don’t have tons of friends back home,” said Clip. “You don’t have any at all.”
Scroll looked down at the floor. “No I don’t,” he said. He walked into the room and sat down on his own bunk. “I wasn’t one of the cool colts. I was one of the uncool ones, the ones who sat at a table alone at lunch, the dweeb who could never talk to anyone because of a lack of common interests. I got made fun of, too. So no. I didn’t have any friends. Not any close ones, anyway.”
Clip sat and listened, a childish scowl on his face.
“That’s part of why I joined the Fraternity,” he said. “I thought I’d make some friends there. Well... that isn’t important, really.”
“Why did you tell me?” Clip asked. “If it wasn’t true.”
“I...” Scroll took a breath. “I wanted you to like me,” he said. “I wanted you to look up to me. But I guess if I have to be that petty I don’t deserve to be looked up to.” He got up from the bunk. “I guess that’s all I can say. I’m sorry I lied, Clip. You deserve better than that.”
Clip lifted his head from the bunk and watched as Scroll made his way towards the door. And he asked, “Why are you going out with her?”
Scroll stopped. “With Tap?”
“Yeah,” said Clip. “I mean, she’s a girl.”
“Well...” Scroll shrugged. “That’s what a lot of colts do around my age. They start going out with girls. And Tap, well... it’s sort of hard to explain...”
“I don’t like girls,” said Clip, sulking. “They’re mean and icky and they don’t make sense.”
“Clip,” said Scroll, “that is not a healthy attitude to take towards the feminine persuasion.”
“I don’t know what that means,” said Clip.
“Look,” explained Scroll, “I get that you might not like girls right now. Back when I was your age I didn’t like them either. Hay, even now I’m still more comfortable around stallions...”
Clip lifted his head hopefully.
“...But it’s a part of life. Besides,” he said with a shrug. “You know Tap. You like her; she’s nice.”
“But I don’t want her for a mom.”
“Well...” Scroll lifted one foreleg and rubbed his other. “It’s a bit early to be talking about anything like that...” But his face lowered despondently, another one of those lost expressions that wanted so much to help but unable to find the right thing to say. All he could do was feel miserable, both for Clip’s position and for what he’d done to the little guy.
“I don’t want any mom,” Clip lowered his head again back to the drawing. He stared at it. The crude representations of the missionaries just looked so happy and loving together and he couldn’t help himself. “I just want my two daddies...” he whimpered.
Scroll didn’t know what to say. He stood there, his expression as sad and confused as Clip’s.
Brother White popped his head into the room. “I hear something about moms?” he asked.
Clip lifted his head again and glared at them. “My mom threw me off the cloud,” he said bitterly. “I don’t want another one.”
___________
A pink colt looked down over the edge of the clouds, his wings flexing. He was nervous. Sooner than later, he would have to fly on his own, or die.
He backed away from the edge, his wings clasped close to his sides, when he bumped into something. He slowly turned around and found himself staring at the towering figure of Captain Tempest.
“Well, hey there,” said the captain, “shouldn’t you be practicing in a bit safer place? Like the practice arena?”
“I can’t fly well with the others,” said the colt. “They pick on me.”
“Well, why should they pick on my little boy?” asked Tempest. “You just tell them that you’re Cumulonimble, and they better remember that.”
“They do remember that,” he said. “And they keep laughing at me.”
Captain Tempest sat down, lowering his head to that of the colt’s.
“They say I’m a joke and I’m gonna die soon...” said Cumulonimble.
“You’re not gonna die, Nimble,” said Tempest, rubbing his head. “I don’t think you could get killed if you tried!” He smiled warmly as Nimble snickered. “You’re just getting started, kid. You’re gonna do me and your mother proud.”
Nimble’s smile dropped. “Mom won’t be proud.”
“Sure she will,” said Tempest.
“She doesn’t like anything I do!” the colt complained. “And she just watches when the other colts and fillies pick on me and she looks like she’s mad, but she’s mad at me.”
“Your mother has...” Tempest searched for the right words. “A different outlook than I do. C’mon.” He lifted Cumulonimble onto his back and began his walk through the clouds. Around them the other pegasi went about their duties – some pegasi were building black clouds, a small group of them were practicing hoof-to-hoof combat, and still others were building their wing strength through weight-lifting exercises.
“They think I’m weak,” said Nimble. “That I’m not good enough to be a soldier. I mean...” He looked at his flank. Clouds with smiley faces.
“There are a lot of different meanings of ‘weak,’ Nimble,” said Tempest. “But from my experiences, the best soldiers aren’t necessarily the ones who can lift the heaviest weights, or fly the fastest or the farthest. Being a good soldier, or being a good pony, even, isn’t about having the best abilities. It’s about what you do with what you have. Things like courage and ambition will take you a lot farther than simply having the strongest wings or the best aim.”
“But,” said the colt, “I don’t know if I want to be a soldier. I... I don’t think I want to fight.”
Captain Tempest stopped. “I wish that were possible.”
“Captain Tempest!” barked a voice. The colt cringed, but the captain, calm and unflappable, turned to face the general. “What are you doing?”
“Just having a little talk, sir,” said Tempest. Despite it being formal military, Nimble never really got used to the ‘sir’ address.
“I don’t want you mollycoddling the colt like that,” she said. Cumulonimble, embarrassed both for himself and the captain, hopped off of his back and slinked out of their way. “You keep that up and he’ll get killed.” She walked up to him. “Do you want that? Do you think I want that?”
“I was under the impression that you didn’t care,” said the captain.
In a flash, Storm reared onto her hind legs and struck the captain across the face with her hoof. He reeled back, covering his face, but blood was showing.
“Don’t,” she snarled, nostrils flaring, “ever talk to me like that! You understand? Stand at attention!”
Tempest slowly lowered his hoof, revealing a cut running right across his eye. “Understood, sir,” he said.
___________
The missionaries sat on either side of the kitchen table. Clip sat between them, looking over a mug of hot cocoa. A dull whisp of steam trailed out of the mug. Clip sniffed, breathing in the aroma.
“Thanks,” he said. He looked at Brother White, mostly ignoring Scroll.
“Feeling better?” asked White.
Clip sipped his hot chocolate, biting out a marshmallow. He nodded.
“I, uh...” Scroll sensed he wasn’t very welcome and volunteered to leave the kitchen. “I’ll just go to the main room in case somepony stops by.”
White extended a hoof. “Clip, I’m sorry to hear about...”
“It’s okay,” said Clip. “I mean, if that hadn’t happened I wouldn’t be having cocoa...” He looked up at White. “I don’t want a mom anymore. I just want you and...”
“Listen, I know that, well...” White searched for the right words. “I know you’ve been through... more than Scroll or I have ever been through. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like. And I know you’re hurt because Scroll lied to you and because you think he’s... betraying you by going out with a girl. But...” He placed a hoof on his shoulder. “We all make mistakes. I’ve told lies. Once, when I was a colt, I snuck into the kitchen at night and stole from the cookie jar. I blamed my little brother Vanilla, and, well... this is the first time I’ve been honest about that.”
Clip looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow.
A soft rumbling caught White’s attention, and he turned his face to the kitchen door.
“Whiiite?” called Scroll’s voice.
“You still got pancakes?” asked another voice.
“Hold on,” said White, getting up. “Enjoy your cocoa.” He headed for the door and cautiously peered out it.
In the main room a crowd had gathered – Quake’s soldiers. Scroll was sitting in a chair against the wall, nervously fidgeting with his tie. White looked to the soldiers, who were all variously sitting down in chairs or idly looking at the wall fixtures.
“Did we do something wrong again?” asked White.
One of the soldiers, a tall brown earth pony with an earth-red mane, answered. “We’re here to sign up.”
Scroll stopped fidgeting with his tie, the cloth wrapped around his hooves. White quietly pushed the door open a little more. “Is this a joke?”
“Not really,” answered the soldier. “General Quake sent us here.”
Earlier in the mission, White would have been ecstatic. As it was, the scenario was just so surreal that he could scarcely comprehend it was happening. “Huh,” he grunted, as though in a stupor.
“Oh,” said Scroll. “Oh!” He laughed. “I get it, it’s the supplies!”
“Oh yeah,” said White. “That makes sense. Ahem.”
White stood and looked around the room, eyeing each of the soldiers. They all wore various expressions, ranging from “vaguely curious” to “please let’s get this over with.”
“Well,” White said. “Let’s just get you all signed in. Then we’ll get each of you a book and we can begin reading.”
“And real names this time,” confirmed Scroll.
___________
General Quake stared at the photograph. Scroll and White were there, dead-center, White with that cocksucking grin of his. The little shitwing was seated on White’s back. And then behind them was the crowd of soldiers, very few of whom seemed to be making an effort to take an earnest picture.
He looked up. The missionaries were sitting there with hopeful expressions.
“Stop fucking smiling,” said Quake. The missionaries quickly complied. Unfortunately White’s cutie mark didn’t go away. Quake grumbled and looked over the letter and copy of the roster that went with the photo. “So once the fag club gets this we’ll be getting supplies again?”
“Yep,” said White.
“And we should be getting stoves,” added Scroll, “so we should be able to get more water machines and then...” The missionaries looked at each other. “We’re in business!”
“Good,” said Quake. “Now get the fuck out of my camp.”
Scroll and White were almost in a hurry to comply, not only because of a general risk to avoid bodily harm, but also because they were eager to send their letter.
As they went down the road to the docks, White floated the envelope in front of them. “They’re gonna respond well to this, right?” he asked.
“I think so,” said Scroll. “I mean, they signed up, and they’ll be attending future meetings. Though I’m not sure how enthusiastically they’ll take the lessons considering they’re sort of forced to...” He saw White’s expression turn to something a little more worried. “They can learn!” he added hastily. “Still, if the Fraternity responds well to this and sends the stoves, then I think we have a chance!”
White nodded. “That’s good, that’s goo–UH!” He tripped on a box in the middle of the road and the envelope slipped from his magic grasp. It fluttered away. On the side of the road was an open shop – a smith, with a furnace for the metal. The door to the furnace was open, and the envelope slowly wafted towards the open flame.
“NO!” cried Scroll. With a heroic leap, he jumped over the smith and caught the envelope in his teeth just before it crossed the fatal threshold. With the letter safe, he let out a relieved sigh – not forgetting to keep his teeth closed – and continued on their way to the docks.
“Good catch there,” said White. “For a moment I thought that we’d get hit with some kind of cruel ironic twist.”
“Hey, why don’t you drop your pants, faggots?”
“Is it too late for irony?” Scroll asked under his breath.
Sure enough, Buzz had spotted them and was trotting up behind them. White turned around and cocked a dubious eyebrow. “Uhh, we don’t wear pants,” he said. “Seriously, all these insults go right over my head.”
“Maybe cause that’s, uh, what you’re giving head!” said Buzz.
Scroll looked at him with a painfully dull expression.
“That means you suck cocks,” explained Buzz.
Scroll just resumed walking, and White followed suit.
“So what’s that?” asked Buzz. “More gay pictures of you having gay sex?”
“Well...” said Scroll, ignoring the little twit, “I don’t know what to do.”
“About what?”
“Clip,” said Scroll, his head sagging. “He probably hates me...”
“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you,” said Brother White.
“Everypony hates you, you little faggots,” jeered Buzz.
“Just, well...” White tried to find the delicate word. “Disappointed, I guess.”
Buzz continued to hurl annoying, uncreative insults at the pair as they left the thickest part of the town and got to the docks. The polite postpony at the boat took their letter with a smile, clearly oblivious to how shitty the town was.
“I think,” said White, “this will show how we’re starting a major turnaround.”
“Uh-huh,” said the pony. He spotted Buzz. “This that kid you took in?”
“Are you a faggot too?” asked Buzz.
“No,” said Scroll. “Completely different.”
White turned around and looked at the kid. “You know,” he said, “I really don’t get it, why do you keep doing this? What is it that makes you tick?”
“Vaginas,” Buzz responded a little too quickly.
The other pony stood there with the envelope in his mouth. “No wonder you’re having trouble,” he said, before quickly stepping onto the boat. White and Scroll watched the ship pull away, a sense of calm and hope overriding Buzz’s obnoxious antics.
“What, you gonna kiss now?” he eventually asked.
White turned around. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” he asked. “Hobbies? Family game night? Chores? Parents who pay attention to what you do? I mean, is there a point here?”
“Now, now, White,” said Scroll, “we’re in a happy place, let’s not spoil it.” He glanced at Buzz, then at White again, and got an idea. “Besides, I think now’s a good time to celebrate.” He nuzzled his partner. “Don’t you think so?”
White nuzzled him right back. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” said Scroll. “You... me... alone...”
Buzz’s mouth dropped open in horror. “Oh, fuck this!” he said, turning around. “I’m outta here, faggots!”
White looked over at Scroll, who was grinning sheepishly. White raised a vaguely perplexed eyebrow. “Well, it got rid of him,” Scroll reasoned. “Still, I do have something in mind...”
___________
Tap noticed that she was feeling quite chipper, and couldn’t quite place why. Maybe she had gotten a good night’s sleep and was feeling rested. Maybe it was because someone had smiled at her out of genuine warmth instead of lewdness. Maybe it was because Barrel seemed to be doing okay. Whatever the reason, she felt pretty good, and even caught herself humming as she went out for her errands.
One of those errands was to grab a barrel of water from the missionaries. She wondered whether she should start calling Scroll her coltfriend. After all, the guy had a crush on her, and she did like him. The two certainly enjoyed spending time together.
She decided to just leave that to whenever Scroll wanted to “talk about ‘us’” and entered the mission house. Clip was sitting in the corner, puzzling over a page in a book. He looked up at her.
“Well, hey kiddo,” said Tap. Clip looked at her uneasily, before turning back to his book. Tap shrugged and looked towards the kitchen.
“I don’t get it,” said Clip. “How do I know if it’s supposed to be ‘wander’ or ‘wonder’?”
Tap laughed. “Well, think of the word ‘won’ and think of how you say and spell that.”
“Okay,” said Clip, looking back at the book. As Tap headed for the kitchen door, he spoke again – “Wait, ‘won’ like in what you do in a game or ‘one’ like two and three?”
Tap chuckled. “Like in a game.” She raised a hoof to the door and started to push it open.
Clip sharply looked up. “Wait–”
“Hey,” said Tap, “I’m just getting a barrel of...” She stopped that sentence when she opened the door and saw what was in the kitchen. Oh.
The missionaries had set up a bathtub at the receiving end of the water machine and filled it with water. Scroll lay back, his eyes closed – his glasses laid on the counter – softly humming to himself. White, meanwhile, was out of sight, presumably due to the mountain of bubbles.
Scroll turned onto his side and his eyes fluttered open. Upon seeing Tap, his eyes shot open and he sat up.
“Tap!”
“Tap?” White’s head emerged from the tub, a thick layer of bubbles coating his horn and giving him a bubble-beard.
Tap blinked. “Well,” she said, “why do you have the bathtub in here?”
“Eheheeh...” Scroll said. “Too much work to move all the water.”
“As opposed to the bathtub?”
“At least it was only one trip.” White shrugged.
Tap walked over to a seat and planted herself, observing the missionaries’ activities. “Any particular reason?”
“Hygiene?” White suggested.
“Go into the main room,” said Scroll. “Check the membership list.”
Tap didn’t really want to get up from her seat, but she figured they weren’t going to do anything fun in front of her. They probably weren’t doing anything fun in the first place, she realized. Just oblivious as usual.
She walked back into the main room and up to the front desk, and it didn’t take her more than a glance to notice that the first page of the membership list had been completely filled, to say nothing of the fact that there were now multiple pages. On closer examination, she found that almost none of them were fake names. She walked back into the kitchen, not completely sure how to take the bizarre array of events.
“You got Quake’s guys to sign up,” she said.
“Actually,” said Scroll, “Quake got them to sign up.”
Tap blinked. “What?” she asked.
“Always knew he liked me,” said White.
“And...” Scroll leaned eagerly over the edge of the bathtub. “We’ve sent in the membership list and a great big group photo.”
“I know what I’d like pictures of...” Tap mumbled.
“Aaaaaand,” Scroll continued, “that means that the Fraternity will know our mission is doing better, and that means that they’ll start sending more supplies, and that means we can get the stoves, and that means more water machines, meaning more water, and BAM!” He struck the surface of the water, splashing bubbles all over the floor. He sat still for a minute. “Eheh... Back in business. And we can do free breakfasts again.”
Tap chuckled, sitting down in the seat and watching them. White raised an eyebrow.
“What are you grinning at?” he asked.
“Nothin’,” said Tap. “Just keep doing what you were doing.”
“What, you wanted to watch me wash his hooves?” White asked.
“Mm-hmm...”
“Don’t ask,” said Scroll, taking to scrub himself with a bar of soap.
“Guuuys?” called another voice from the main room. “Guys!” Barrel burst through the door. “There’s a– oh.”
“Out, Barrel,” said Tap, nonplussed. “You aren’t old enough to watch.”
“The thbit...” Barrel sputtered, shaking his head.
“What’s going on?” asked White.
BOOM! The sound of cannons roared from outside. The room fell silent as the cannons continued to fire.
“Monarch,” said Barrel. At that all three ponies sat up. “His fortress. It just showed up.”
The missionaries scrambled out of the bathtub, splashing soapy water all over the kitchen floor. White grabbed a towel from the counter and began drying his mane as Scroll went for his glasses, nearly slipping on the bar of soap.
The missionaries clumsily tumbled out of the kitchen, with Tap – who might have been laughing were it not for news of the unicorns attacking – following behind.
They rushed outside the mission house, but they found that there was no battle raging. The cannons were firing, but there were no gunfights in the street.
“Look there,” said Barrel, pointing out to the sea.
Monarch’s Fortress hovered over the sea, unmoving, just out of range of the cannons, as evidenced by the splashes that came from the water as the cannonballs fell short of their mark. It merely floated there, as if taunting General Quake for being unable to bring it down.
Beneath the fortress was a thin pillar of light, slowly pulsating. With each pulse, a giant ripple emerged from the sea, sending waves towards the island. They looked down at the docks, watching as the waves lapped up onto the decks.
Scroll then remembered something. He remembered what General Monarch had said when he offered Brother White the chance to join him, taunting General Quake as he did so.
Water shortage? I think I can do something about that.
“Oh Celestia...” he muttered in horror.
“What?” asked Barrel. “What is it?”
“He...” Scroll stammered, as the other eyes turned to gaze on him.
“He what?” asked White.
Scroll took a deep breath and stared at the fortress, as the pillar of light continued to pulse.
“He’s going to flood the island.”