I guess the best way to start this is to assume I’ve been asked a question, like “How did you feel when you left Ponyville that day?” To put it simply, I was mad.
I was sitting in one of the train cars, but anything around me was forgotten in my anger. You had essentially told me I was a child, unable to even make rational decisions, when I slammed the library door shut. Part of me thought you’d chase after me, but the farther away I got, the less likely that became. It wasn’t until the train pulled away from the station that I decided you were just as mad as I was if you wouldn’t even wave me goodbye.
So there I sat, ruminating on the past, completely ignorant of reaching Canterlot Mountains an two hours later. Heck, the only reason I knew we made it to our destination was the loud whistle of the engine as the brakes were engaged and I nearly fell out of my seat. By that time, my anger began to simmer enough for me to look around.
Exiting the train was a simple affair. The military didn’t demand the entire populous of Ponyville to join, so the ponies were spread out enough to leave without pushing. But when I stepped onto that station, it was more crowded than the royal wedding. Guards were directing recruits or guiding them bodily into groups until the three species were separated.
The unicorns were led away first, and I could just make out the turn they took towards Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns before I was nearly trampled by the pegasi pushing out of the station to hit the sky. I was the only dragon in the group and ended up with the earth ponies and a few donkeys.
Four guards kept us in a rough formation as we walked towards the castle. I didn’t think we’d be going there, but I learned later that the only barracks large enough to support and train us were lined up on the castle walls.
We arrived a few minutes later to the blaring call of a sergeant. He pulled us into smaller groups of ten, then directed each towards a different building. I was with the group sent to the barracks, so I had time to get settled. Of course, I didn’t bring anything with me, so it didn’t take me long to find a cot for my own.
It was during this short lull of action that I met with Cannoli. He was a shorter, rotund stallion than the others, but I could see the strength hidden behind the fat. His yellow mane contrasted well with his light-blue coat, but I’m not Rarity, so I wouldn’t know how well those colors matched. We only met because he jumped to the cot above mine and missed.
The other recruits shared a laugh at his misfortune, but I merely helped him up. It wouldn’t do well create a wall of resentment between us, not if we wanted to survive. When he turned to thank me, however, the smile on his face showed just how little he thought the incident. His golden eyes shined with such mirth, I immediately thought he would last less than a day.
“I’m Cannoli,” he said, grappling my hand like a ball of dough with both hooves. “Never thought I’d see a dragon here, but I think I have just the thing to repay you!” Before I could reply that I didn’t need anything, he reached into his saddlebags and brought a strange confection to my snout.
We’ve been to Sugarcube Corner enough times that I thought I’d seen every pastry invented. The thing before me didn’t resemble anything I’ve tasted at that shop, though. It kinda looked like an eclair, but it wasn’t squishy and the cream was easily viewable as it was wrapped instead of injected. My face must have reflected my confusion, as Cannoli just smiled wider and told me to try it, and I did.
Of course, ‘trying’ for ponies is just a little nibble. For me, it’s more like throwing the entire thing down my throat at once. By Celestia, that confection was on par with Pinkie’s cupcakes. Any time I tried to taste one aspect of it, another flavor would butt in, but it didn’t fight for my attention and instead danced with the previous one. I can’t adequately describe it here.
Needless to say, Cannoli was rolling in laughter. Not rolling on the floor, but actually rolling. His guffaws shook the fat beneath his coat, but it wasn’t disgusting. The action seemed to fit him perfectly, and something told me he would keep that aspect throughout training.
And keep it he did. We spent the first week working together on our drills, sharing recipes (I have to make those pastries when I get home, Twilight. They’re called cannolis, and you will love them) whenever we went to the mess hall and telling one another how we came to be signed on with the armed forces. Throughout it all, he never once lost the flab. Even with our meager rations, it stayed. I almost thought him an alien, until I noticed the muscle poking through.
I wasn’t a slouch either. Even with my short stature, my arms and legs widened with extra mass as my belly shrunk. I could feel my body becoming stronger with every extra length I ran during those drills. Then, the week came to an end, and our group was moved to the practice yards.
The pegasi came back, along with a token few unicorns. It wasn’t until then that I noticed the mares were separated as well, as I finally saw the lithe forms return to our group. We grew to twenty, then were paired off with swords.
My opponent was a mean-looking mare by the name of…. I can’t recall it, actually. Anyway, I will say nothing of the sparring match other than my loss. I was pinned to the ground with a wooden sword pointed at my neck mere millimeters away. Then, the instructor came up to us and switched the weapons with spears. The same thing happened, only this time I ended with a wallop to the head.
It became apparent after that. They were testing how well we fought with either weapon to decide which will be our primary training. I didn’t see her after that, as a corporal helped me up and led me towards a building closer to the castle.
At this point, I feel I need to explain a few things regarding my stay at the camp.
For that first week, I was treated more like an oddity than a recruit. The ponies were split between casting suspicious glances at me or telling me I didn’t belong, or thinking I was sent in your stead and expecting amazing results. Needless to say, since I was still in the body of a whelp, I failed the second lot spectacularly.
I couldn’t run as fast as the others, or as far. My arms were too short to carry large quantities of items without stacking them precariously. They weren’t even all that strong compared to the earth ponies around me. My stamina was on par with a unicorn foal, and only barely grazed the same level as an adult mare’s by the week’s end.
Time and again, I’d be called out to ask if I really thought I could go through with it. Time and again, I explained just how willing I was to push myself. And time and again, I failed another measure of the camp’s fitness. It was an endless cycle, one I was determined to stop. So, when I was brought to the general’s office, I resolved to show him more tenacity than I have for any previous upper rank soldier.
I didn’t even get fully in the door before that wilted. General Ironshod had the countenance of a grizzled war veteran, one who should have retired long ago and held to his beliefs with untoward passion. His gaze froze me on the spot at the door frame, and it took the corporal’s hoof pushing me to snap me out enough to enter.
“Spike, I presume.” His voice was harder than his face implied, and I’m not afraid to admit I flinched. “Take a seat.”
I could do nothing but comply. As I sat in the chair opposite his desk, he pushed back his own and stood. He just stared at me, judging my entire life without saying a word. Such was the power behind those eyes.
“I expected a dragon.”
Speechless doesn’t even begin to describe my feelings. Even when one is speechless, at least their mind is turning. Mine ground to a halt at those words. He waited patiently for a retort, one I seemed to take too long to create.
“If you’re not a dragon, and you’re not a pony, what are you?”
I couldn’t follow along. Normally, I can plan at least three sentences ahead, but this stallion left nothing for me to get a read on. It was like staring at Celestia, except instead of calm love, I was met with righteous determination.
“You think yourself strong enough to handle war, and you can’t even muster the courage to speak.”
It was then I noticed the badge on his lapel: five silver stars arranged in a circle. I was speaking with the General of the Army, the highest ranked soldier in the entire military, and I continued to disrespect him with my silence. Gathering what strength I could draw up under the stallion’s presence, I opened my mouth to respond.
“And disrespectful as well.”
Only to clamp it shut at those words. Finally, my mind started its engines, only I was traveling in circles. If it was disrespectful not to respond to his inquiries, yet also disrespectful to speak, what do I do?
“Indecisiveness will get you killed, thing.”
“I am NOT a THING!” I yelled without thinking. Now I had done it, I thought. I just screamed at the General of the Army, and without asking permission to speak. Even if I couldn’t speak to ask permission to speak, I still thought I should have gotten such.
“So it does have a voice,” he said in the same tone he had the whole conversation. If he was upset at my outburst, I couldn’t find a single tell. “I was beginning to think my soldiers imagined a recruit telling them of his indomitable will.”
I did the first thing I could think of: stand and bow before him. “I’m sor—”
“Do not bow to me. I am not your ___.” He raised his head and looked down his nose at me when I stood, still with those cold, judging eyes. “Do you even have a sovereign? You’re not a pony, so you don’t answer to the princesses, and you’re not a dragon, so you don’t answer to their oligarchy.”
Admitting this is harder than eating a hundred tubs of ice-cream in a day, but my eyes teared up. I thought I was strong, a worthy dragon to protect those I loved, and here was the General of the Army looking down on me like I was an ant unworthy of his time. For as much as an ant can lift, it pales to what ponies could lift, and therefore without merit. I was without merit.
“So you run out of options, and you decide to cry.” Slamming a hoof on the desk, he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes in the first sign of emotion: anger. “Give me one damned good reason why I don’t chuck you down the side of the mountain for wasting my and my army’s time!”
He wanted one reason why I was worth it, one reason I could say within the next few moments that completely defined my life. I couldn’t do it. Everyone has at least a hundred reasons to live, to be where they are, and I couldn’t think of a single one that would placate the stallion before me. And yet, as the seconds ticked by, he never pulled away or removed that expression on his face. He was giving me time, more time than I would ever need, even if it took a lifetime.
That got me. Here was the General of the Army, waiting for a lowly recruit’s answer to the most important question, without giving even the smallest sign of impatience. I had to answer that, or I could never call myself a dragon, or a pony, or even an ant, ever again.
On the first breath, I calmed down. On the second, I had nothing new. On the third, I felt a deep hatred for myself. On the fourth, I blinked. And on the fifth, I had my answer. A grin broke my lips, even as the water that pooled below my eyes finally fell.
“I will not stop.”
That simple sentence explained everything: why I hated myself for not moving, why I nearly cried at not having a response, why I continued to push myself in the face of everything. Beneath the code I made for myself, beneath the protection I felt I had to give others, I knew I couldn’t stop for anything. I may be confused at times, or see the world as too big as its size crushes me, but I will move forward because that’s just who I am. Not because I need to please others, but because I need to prove myself to myself.
Unfortunately, it was not the answer he was looking for. “You will not stop, you say? So a thing says he will not stop. What is a thing against an army? What will moving blindly do against the legions of griffons pounding at our doors? What will this thing do to a force so powerful it stops the princesses themselves in their tracks?!”
That’s when I broke.
Even with my newfound truth, I could still do nothing. No matter what I did, it would be nothing to the world who deemed me unfit. And if nothing I did mattered, what was the point?
I fell back into the chair, missing it entirely and causing a screech of wood against the wood of the floor. The spines on my back being scraped against the furniture as it slid back gave me no discomfort, nor the pressure of my weight crushing my tailbone as I fell into a slouched lump.
“I don’t know,” I said quietly.
“You don’t know.”
“I don’t know… sir.”
“So I’m your ‘sir’ now, am I?”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“And what do you expect me to do about you?”
“Whatever you will of me, sir.”
There was a prolonged silence after my words. I could only assume he was still in that position, leaning over his desk to stare down at me with disgust. He showed me what I was made of, then broke it before I could fully enjoy it, and now I was just a waste of military resources. I decided I wasn’t worth their time, that I had ran from you in a stupid sense of entitlement, before I finally looked up to tell him such.
He didn’t look down on me. The desk still stood between us, with him nearly laying over it, but he no longer looked at me like the scum of the earth. Instead, his eyes spoke of understanding, his face of remembrance. For the first time, he smiled.
“Stand up, recruit,” he said, and I obeyed.
“Sit down, recruit.” Again, I obeyed.
“Speak, recruit.” And the words flowed.
“Sir, I’m not worthy of your time, or the time of this military. I came here expecting to be strong, but you have shown me the truth. So, by your leave, I will leave Canterlot and never return under the guise of becoming a soldier.”
“Permission denied.” I opened my mouth to speak, of what I can’t remember, but he continued. “Tell me, recruit, are you a dragon, a pony, or a thing?”
“Sir, I’m only a thing, sir.”
“You’re a dragon, recruit.”
“A dragon would—”
“A dragon would be broken just as much as you have. A dragon would defy me until he was broken. A dragon would stay true to his will, until he was shown just how little he is. You are a dragon, and you will become stronger than any other before you.”
His words confused me yet again. First he tells me I’m nothing, then he tells me I’m destined for greatness? “Sir—”
“I tell you these things not because I expect you to walk out of here thinking you’re better than everyone else. I tell you these things because they are what you need to hear.
“When I signed on to be part of the guard, I thought myself ready for anything. It took a sergeant to show me just how wrong I was, in a manner very similar to what I just did to you. Everyone is broken when they enter the service, because everyone thinks something else. We need soldiers who will follow orders, and most do that with minimal effort.
“You, however much you are about to say you would have followed orders, are different. You’re a dragon, and dragons think differently. I needed you to think like us, because I know this war will change you, and if I didn’t, it would have done so for the worse.
“I see something in you, something destined for greatness, but it will be hard-fought and perilous. Before, you would have done just as you did here and falter. Before, you had plenty of opportunities to strike your partner in those sparring matches, but you didn’t go for them. Most would have thought that a lack of training, but I saw a lack of resolve.
“Now, I want you to go back out there and fight. Fight as if your life is on the line every time you battle, because that will be the case when you’re out there on the front lines. Become strong, like you wanted when you came here, Spike. That’s an order.”
He pulled back and settled back in his chair, pulling it to the desk and grabbing something from a drawer. “Dismissed,” he said as he brought a quill to bear and began writing.
“Sir, yes, sir.” I gathered myself up, moved the chair back to where it was, and walked out, feeling weak, but knowing I could become strong.
I didn’t think of myself as a dragon, but I would someday. First, I had to get back to the field and prove my worth. I had to show everyone I wouldn’t stop.
When I returned to the practice yard, the mare was dueling with another. He looked familiar, and it wasn’t until I stepped into an empty space that I recognized him as Carrot Cake. Why it took me so long to remember him, I still don’t know, but at the time, I brushed it off as nerves from dealing with General Ironshod.
The instructor walked up to me and presented both the wooden sword and spear before telling me to choose myself. I didn’t think myself a long range fighter, so I grabbed the sword. A few practice swings later, I adjusted my grip and turned to meet my opponent with determination in my bones.
A dark-grey stallion stood before me, his mane setting itself as a mirror opposite. He was a unicorn, and he certainly looked the part with his small frame, but his eyes were different. They spoke of a strong will, even as they continuously searched for something. When I stepped forward, they snapped to me. His cloudy eyes met my own, and it was only the confusion I had for his presence in the recruits that caused the first strike to not be my own.
He was unbelievably fast, his blindness seeming less of a handicap than I assumed. Before I could raise my sword to block his swing, I was already falling. I managed to catch myself and jump back using my tail to balance, then set myself for another attack.
The stallion merely stood there, scanning with his unseeing eyes as his ears flicked about. Between the other combatants and my soft landing, it seemed he had to find me again. Why they let him join, I didn’t know, and I let out a sigh. Turning my head, I tried to ask the instructor what I should do.
“Sir…”
“Fight, recruit,” was his only response before walking away. I couldn’t understand why he would leave me to fight a blind pony, but I didn’t get much time to ponder the question before I was rapped on the head by my opponent. At my shocked shout in pain, he spoke.
“Do you think me weak?”
“What? Of cour—”
“Then fight!” he called before swinging again. I managed to catch it in time with my sword, but he parried instantly and hit me with a hoof, pushing me back again. “Are you afraid to hurt a cripple?!” Instead of pausing this time, he lunged with his sword straight. It stopped just before my snout, but I grabbed it before he could pull back. As he struggled, I did the same, the two of us fighting the stupidest fight in history. At least it gave me time to think.
The stallion was blind, but he was quick. His strength wasn’t the greatest, but his eyes were fierce. I couldn’t imagine having to fight someone with such a disability, even if it nearly evened out. The only thing I thought of was what you’d think, how you’d react to me attacking a blind pony.
When he suddenly let go, spun about, and bucked me, I changed my mind. Releasing both of our swords, I slid back against the dusty ground on my back. I stopped about two meters away and felt the pain throbbing in my chest. As his hoofsteps came towards me, I grunted in effort to stand again. My vision blurred for a moment, but I saw he left the weapons behind.
He didn’t know my exact location, as evidenced by his ears flicking about, but I couldn’t make a move to attack without letting him know it. Then, the thought occurred to me to use my flame. Aiming near him so as to not harm him, I let gathered the flame in my throat and let loose.
The feint worked. Jumping away from the heat, I used the chance to charge forward. Sending a glancing blow his way with my tail, I ran by and gathered my sword. Just as I was swinging for his stumbling legs, a whistle blew.
“That’s enough, recruits,” the instructor roared over us. “Gather yourselves and head for the mess hall for lunch.” I heard a few congratulatory remarks from the others to their partners as he walked over to us. He kept his eyes on me as he told the blind pony, who I learned was named Blindside, to carry on.
“Spike, we need to discuss a few things.”
I—no, wait. You know what, this is dragging on long enough. Let me sum up everything I can remember so we can move on.
The instructor told me it was smart to use everything I had, but that I could have seriously injured my opponent. He didn’t specifically tell me not to do it again, but I swore not to anyway. After our little discussion on how to practice, he told me Ironshod wanted to see me regularly during my training and to be ready for a summons by him. I agreed and he let me go.
During lunch, I spoke with Cannoli about where I went earlier, then let him talk about whatever. My mind was occupied creating a schedule of my own so I could train my flame away from others. It wasn’t much, but by the end of the meal, I had a plan.
The week went by as the previous one did, except our physical training was cut in half to work on our skillsets. I know you want a complete history of everything that happened, but I can’t remember all that much. Outside of a few instances, camp was a blur as we worked to be ready in time for battle.
Speaking of which, the third week began and we finally switched to real weaponry. All of us were worried about hurting our opponents at first, but they told us they were at least dulled. We could break bones, but it would be hard to actually cut one of us. It was on the second day of this training that I learned just how tough my scales were. But before I begin, I want to say, I didn’t tell you this in my letter because I didn’t want you to worry.
After the first day, when we were only using the blunt weapons to learn of their weight and how differently they handled, they had us practicing sharpened ones on target dummies. Because we couldn’t learn how a sword feels cutting through someone, we were to learn about it through them.
While most of the ponies decided to go with spears, there were still a good number of us trying to be sword warriors, myself included. The dummy in front of me had a few nicks in it from my swings, but nothing noteworthy enough to be praised. In fact, the stallion next to me had managed to shear his nearly in half, so I wasn’t feeling particularly capable.
The instructor, who still had yet to give his name, came up to me and regarded the target as I tried another swing. When it connected and barely left a scratch, he grunted to catch my attention.
“You have more than just arms.” I don’t know what it was with the camp, but none of the soldiers bothered explaining anything with much detail. Most of the time, they’d say something like he did and expect us to understand. Interestingly enough, we were getting better at figuring out what was expected of us, so it only took me a moment to realize he wanted me to use all of my mass.
After setting my feet like they showed us, though slightly varied for a dragon like myself, I tried again. Instead of letting my arms pull the sword along alone, I pushed with my legs and curled my belly, hoping it would be enough. It was sloppy, but I felt the blade dig into the dummy much easier than it used to be.
Unfortunately, that also left the blade stuck. I turned back to the instructor with an uneasy grin of apology, but he was already gone, moving on to the next struggling recruit. Turning back to my stuck sword, I grabbed it as strongly as I could and pulled. I twisted about, trying different angles in the hopes of releasing the blade from its wooden cage, but nothing was working.
Just as I was about to give up, a sword connected with the hilt of my own and threw it into the air, shocking me into releasing it and falling back The stallion who cleaved his dummy stood there staring at the sword as it sailed, ignoring me entirely. A few moments later, my blade returned to me as it slid down my arm and bounced off my hand.
I looked between it and the stallion, seeing his raised eyebrow, before reaching and returning the sword to my grip. Just as I was turning to thank him for the help, his blade slammed into my side. Howling in pain, I fell to the ground again and clutched my ribs.
The instructor heard me and rushed over, looking at my curled form, then to the stallion standing above me. “What happened here?”
“He tried to kill me!” I yelled through the pain before my attacker could make something up. I rolled onto my back and sat up, inspecting my wounded side for a cut. There wasn’t one. “What?”
Looking up, I saw the instructor looking at me with a harsh frown. “What do you mean he tried to kill you? You look fine.” I tried to rebuke that, but was beaten to it by the stallion who attacked me.
“I didn’t try to kill him; I tried to cut him,” he said before turning back to his own dummy.
Now let me explain a few things before I continue. First, you don’t turn your back on a superior officer, especially when you’re being accused of something. Second, even if I wasn’t cut, the attack hurt enough that I was struggling to maintain my sitting position. I learned latter he had bruised a few ribs. Third, you do NOT turn your back on a superior officer.
“Hold it right there, recruit!” the instructor bellowed, halting the stallion’s next swing, but he didn’t turn his head. “Face me when I’m talking to you!” With a grunt of what was clearly irritation, he turned away from his target. “Did I just hear you admit to assaulting a fellow recruit?”
“I didn’t assault him; I tried to cut him,” he replied calmly.
“They are one and the same here, recruit! Explain your actions, and maybe I won’t have you tied to the chair for the rest of the week!”
The chair he refers to doesn’t have a name. They don’t even want us to refer to it as “The Chair,” so I’ll leave it at that. Basically, you’re tied to a chair in the most uncomfortable position you can imagine. Then, they give you a potato. You have to hold that potato with your one free hoof, but if it drops an inch, you’ll pierce it on the knife they set up beneath it. They then leave you like that with no sound until they decide to come get you. It’s not the most pleasant of experiences, from what I hear.
Moving on. So the instructor just threatened with the harshest punishment there is, and yet the guy didn’t even looked fazed. “His sword fell from the sky, but didn’t cut him when it landed on him. I wanted to test a theory.”
I can’t remember what happened next, actually. See, his answer made me aware of how I wasn’t cut. I mean, I saw that earlier, but the pain kept me from thinking about it too much. With it getting more manageable, I could think enough to look again. And sure enough, there wasn’t a ding on me.
Okay, so there was a ding. I mean, I did get hard enough to bruise ribs, and the law of conservation of mass kinda tells you something would happen to the surface as well. By the way, if it doesn’t, sorry. I wasn’t really paying attention to that bit. Anyway, although I wasn’t cut, the scales protecting me did have dents in them that lined up with the sword’s hit.
So, as I was saying, I can’t really recall too much about what happened with the conversation. I heard later the guy was tied to the chair for a day (not enough, in my opinion, but they did need all the ponies they could get) while I was looked over by the medical staff. He did apologize to me later, but we never spoke again after that.
Well, after my little powwow with the docs, I was asked to meet with General Ironshod again. Not being able to refuse, I followed my messenger to his barracks.
You’re probably wondering what these meetings were about. I really didn’t want to go into detail with them, so that’s why I skimmed over the last week, but I don’t think I could describe them all that well anyway. Except for this one. There were a few others before the camp was over, but the same thing applies to them. So, hopefully being able to remember this one will tell you what you want to know about the others.