The next day Lulamoon went to meet Wing Song again. She wasn’t in the chapel and the priest directed him towards the old estates where the nobles were staying. Inside he saw the watch commander, who said Wing Song was on guard duty.
“You’re the tinker in Perrichon’s regiment?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“How’d that happen? Why didn’t you just run and hide like the rest of them?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Could I leave now?”
“Fat chance. Tell me. How did you end up with Perrichon?”
“I was in Calmare,” he said, “and I didn’t say no.”
“Oh,” he said. “I suppose you’re lucky then. Most just get sent south.”
“Somepony said you’d end up in the mines if you refused to fight.”
“Oh, I’ve not heard of that. We never really bothered bringing tinkers. Figured they’d cut and run the first chance they get. Say it’s not their fight. Good to see you’ve at least stuck around. I’ve had to hang more than a few of my own who tried to get out early.”
The commander looked over Lulamoon. “You may come and see her this evening if you wish. She’ll be off then. But bring a change of clothes and don’t let anypony else know you’re a tinker.”
“I’m not some thief, you know.”
“No. But they won’t know that, and some won’t care either way.”
“Good evening,” said Lulamoon.
“Servir avec honneur, Vanner.”
“Serve with honor.” Lulamoon bowed his head and went out. It was impossible for him to bow to nobles as a tinker, without some trepidation. Tinker ponies never seemed made for such things.
The day had been busy. Lulamoon had been north of town, along the defensive line. They were preparing for the offensive. It had been impossible to advance without securing more troops and equipment and the rebels understood this well enough to try and delay them. Bridges and roadways were under constant attack for months. They couldn’t transport everything by air for the offensive, and it was easier to destroy a pegasus chariot than a supply wagon. But the troops had managed and set up a path on the far east to move supplies to the front. It was a nasty affair, from what he heard, and Grani’s forces would not let them reach the front easily. It made sense, Lulamoon thought. The city would be their last stand. Perhaps, they think if the hold out long enough we might give up. The rebel’s trenches were above on the hillside only a mile from the Equestrian lines. There were old woods and shrubbery, good for concealment, and foraging. There was also a bridge that went over a river towards the city, but it was all rubble and could not be repaired and used because it was in plain sight.
Lulamoon went through the trenches, and delivered the provisions at the supply post along the edge of the line. Everypony was in the dugouts. There were rows of cannons pointed towards the enemy line and rockets standing along racks to be fired to spot pegasi or signal for help if it was dark out. It was warm, but dirty. Lulamoon had a drink with a cannoneer he knew in one of the dugouts and went back towards the town.
There were more ponies arriving, and they were kept busy tracking and delivering supplies and provisions where needed. Once everything was delivered the siege would start. It had been the same way as in every siege. They would hit them with cannons and flurries and bombings all throughout the day and night in separate shifts. Supply lines would be secured and all arriving traffic would start additional routs to keep the siege supplied as best as they can. The offensive would then start once the walls fell. As far as he knew, dense forest surrounded the city, so it would be easy for the rebels to harass them while the siege was going. Lulamoon would have liked to stay in the town and keep track of supplies from there but its wasn’t his decision. But he learned of a few places where the provisioners could be sheltered, and could wait for supplies to be dropped off and moved safely. They would be all right so long as they were safe from shelling and their guards weren’t complete garbage.
Lulamoon went back to the tavern, and ate very quickly, and left for the estate where Wing Song had been guarding. It was very large and beautiful and there were fine trees in the grounds and rose hedges that appeared watered and otherwise undisturbed. Wing Song was sitting on a bench drinking from a water skin. Somepony else was with her. She was far taller than Lulamoon, and he’d argue that she was even taller than the Princess. Apart from her sheer size, there was the deep creased scars from what once a left ear, and hard blue-green eyes, cold and unwelcoming. Wing Song seemed glad to see Lulamoon and in a little while the red-maned giant excused herself and walked away.
“I’ll leave you two,” she said.
“Don’t go, milady,” Wing Song said.
“I really must. I have other matters than need tending.”
“Good-night, ma’am,” said Lulamoon.
“Good-night, Monsieur Tristan.”
“I’ll see you in a little while,” Wing Song said. The draft-mare walked away in the dark.
“She’s nice,” said Lulamoon.
“Oh, yes, she’s very nice. You’re scared of her aren’t you.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Oh, no. Well, sometimes, when she’s yelling. But she takes care of us, and everypony here trust her.”
“Who is she? I’ve never seen her before.”
“She’s Lady Posey.”
“Is she a noble, like you.”
“No, not like me. I only have a minor claim to nobility, through my father. And Lady Posey is an errant, so she cannot be ennobled.”
“An errant?”
“It means to wander. It’s an old tradition back home. Knight’s without lords, committing their lives to the defense of Bayard.”
“What’s the difference?”
“A knight traditionally owes allegiance to their liege lord. Errants have no lords, but still hold land and defend our home from invaders.”
“Like the Asturcons.”
“Yes. Lady Posey was there when the Asturcon’s invaded. And when the war ended she swore fealty to Celestia. In a way, she isn’t an errant anymore, but she is still treated as such.”
“I see.”
“The General doesn’t want nobles so close to commoners. So, we’re all on close watch. We don’t go out often.”
“I can come here though.”
“Of course. This isn’t a prison. And Lady Posey would prefer that we mingle with commoners.”
“Let’s talk about something besides the war.”
“It’s very hard. What else is there to talk about?”
“Anything.”
“All right.”
They looked at each other in the dark. He thought she was very beautiful and he felt her hoof along his. He let her take it, and she held it and she put his hoof around her and inched closer.
“No,” he said. He kept his hoof where it was.
“Why not?”
“No.”
“Yes,” she said. ‘Please.” She leaned forward to kiss him and held jerked his head back. He had pulled away from her, and his hooves fidgeted.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“That’s all right.”
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I just, I got a little lost in my own head. I didn’t mean to stop you. Not that I wasn’t thinking about it. I-I mean, I was, but-“
She laid her head against his chest, and he was silent. He felt scared and yet certain seeing her there calm and certain. Not at all like the mare he had seen in the tavern.
“I know what you meant,” she said. “And I understand. I’ve met so many ponies here. And I never thought for a moment if I would ever see them again. And then I see you, and you are so kind and handsome.” She looked at him, he cheek against his chest.
“You don’t need to talk about that. I said I was sorry. I really like you.”
“I like you to,” she said. “And we’re talking about something other than the war.”
They both laughed. It was the first time Lulamoon had heard her laugh. He watched her face.
“You’re very beautiful,” he said.
“So are you. And I’d be glad to kiss you if you don’t mind.”
He looked in her eyes and put his hooves around her and kissed her. He kissed her hard and held her tight, and she opened her lips. He was still scared and as he held her suddenly she shivered. He felt the cold wind between them and he held her close against him and he could feel her heart beating. And then he felt tears along his cheeks and he buried his head on her chest.
“Not a very manly moment, huh,” he said.
She stroked his mane and patted his back.
“It’s okay to cry sometimes.” She looked at him. “Because this is a terrible place, and sometimes we need to cry to get through it.”
After a while he walked with her to the road, and he said good night and walked home. Back home, he went upstairs to his room. Swift Bolt was lying on his bed roll. He looked at him.
“I see you made progress with Lady Song.”
“Something like that.”
“You have a pleasant air about you.”
“Do I.”
“Yes. I’ve seen it in some of the other soldiers,” he explained. “They lose something in this war, but they get it back in a certain way. That’s with Lady Song did. She got that little something back for you.”
“Maybe. Good-night,” said Lulamoon.
“Good-night.”
Swift Bolt moved the candle and went on reading. Lulamoon got into bed across from him, and placed his head against the pillow. He thought of Wing Song, his chest feeling warm, and he drifted into sleep.