//------------------------------//
// Anarchy of Bread 
// Story: A War 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

She finally landed on the ground, specifically on a concrete road.
The village "in the middle of nowhere" was an anomaly in that barren wasteland. It was a village of work, of productivity, of life, of order.
The two-floor buildings of brick stood, always an equal space apart from each other within one block. The network of roads, streets, and other kinds of paths and passageways was the developed infrastructure the various inhabitants traveled on (or traveled over if they were pegasi). Although carriages were few, they were still there, providing short journeys from one end of the town to the other.
The blocks of buildings had their own purpose, not a single inch of it dedicated to something else.
Those with chimneys on top were the houses, the residences. Most of their lights were off, though two of them had some on, both of them on the ground floor. At this hour, not a lot of ponies were gathered here.
Those with patches of farmland at the side were the agricultural institutes. These were the least in number but they compensated for that by having as much arable land as one could fit inside a normal city block. Though the ponies working there were not many in number also, they were there, planting seeds on one side, watering budding vegetables on another, and picking up the harvest on yet another.
Those with wafting and drifting aromas—stirring up palates and appetites, making ponies' mouths water—were the "points of food collection and consumption." Some of these were soup kitchens where several chefs behind the counter cooked soup and vegetables and dessert in equal proportions to each and every one who came over. Others were part-warehouse—really, one big room where the farmers drop their produce into large bowls of potatoes, carrots, and so on; the ponies who would rather cook their own dinners came here, getting the ingredients needed for a feast back home in the residential blocks.
Those with whirring machinery and conveyor belts were the factories. Each factory on its block produced its own good—one produced yet more machinery, another produced tools, yet another produced lightbulbs. The interior of the factories were as similar as they could; however, there had to be differences, of course, if one were to efficiently produce everything a proper settlement of ponies needs.
Those with various symbols and signs on their roofs and walls were the workshops of diverse activities. A scientific laboratory was among them, fully furnished with the containers, the chemicals, and the clothing necessary to conduct experiments for the advancement of research. An artist's studio was among them, too, where painting materials in plenty colors and brushes in plenty types were in abundance, and the artists painted alongside each other in their unique styles. A theater, even, was with them—actors and actresses practiced on the stage while growing playwriters sat on the rows of seats as they observed.
On both entrances to the town was a stone sign with these words etched on them: "The Town of Effectiveness."
Night Glider walked some paces, going left and right as she encountered the usual intersections. She waved at a few ponies who she passed by—a unicorn with curly blue hair not only waved back at her but yelled "They're having a musical over here! Do you want to—"
But she walked on.
She entered one of the part-warehouses of food.
The wooden backbone of the structure could be seen on the walls. On the floor, several large bowls held sugar, salt, garlic, onions, and other such small foodstuffs. Short lines of ponies waited in front of those bowls as each got what he or she needed for the next meal before exiting the building, carrying sacks or saddle bags. Three ponies stayed inside as they watched and guarded over the bowls, sometimes telling a pony that they have grabbed too much and that they must save some for the rest of his fellow villagers.
One of those three was Starlight Glimmer.
She was a unicorn with a purple-white star and blue curved lines about it as her cutie mark. Her light pink coat was tarnished in dirt, her purple and aquamarine-striped mane shabby and scruffy. Despite that, though, she had a smile on her face as her eyes went between the next pony in line and the bowl of salt.
Night Glider went around the line, garnering the bad looks of some, and went straight to Starlight.
"Uh, Starlight?" the pegasus asked.
"What is it?" she asked back, her cheerful smile going away as she took on a more cautious tone. "Your being here this early is unusual. Is there something wrong? An intruder? A warning?"
"I hope it's nothing," Night Glider replied, glancing at the open door to the outside. "A griffon ambassador just passed over this town. She did not seem hostile at all—she was just going back to Griffonstone, I think."
"Let's assume the best of her," Starlight said back, placing a hoof on the pegasus's shoulder. "Things are going haywire for Equestria, broiling in that nasty conflict of theirs. If only we could convince some of the Crystal ponies to come here and live here, to work with us. That will serve to Equestria's benefit."
Night Glider hesitated. Then nodded. "You're right."
Starlight's smile returned. "So, you have not finished your five hours of patrol duty yet, I presume. Or, did you start it early?" She bit her lip. "I was not paying that much attention—I did wake up late for my share of the farmwork. I got here only about ten or twenty minutes ago." A sigh escaped. "Five more hours to go—and I'll stay up so late that maybe everypony will've gotten all their food by then."
Night Glider nodded once more. "Well, I know you are our humble founder, but you don't have to—"
"Equality above all," Starlight said, glaring at her and even growling under her breath. "This society will crumble apart if any one of us, even me, becomes a leader elevating himself above the rest. What we have built and formed together will be destroyed and will fade away into nothing if we don't keep ourselves in check."
The pegasus sighed—grouchy eyes. "If you say so, Starlight. Don't stress yourself out, OK?"
Starlight nodded, smiling as she walked to the garlic bowl and noticing that no one was there.



Starlight's eyes were now red and half-open. Her once clean and smooth mane was now draggled again, strands of hair sticking out as she made the gloomy stroll through town.
She looked at one of the clock towers there.
It was almost one o' clock in the very early morning. Already tomorrow.
She groaned as she jaunted her way past windows, most of them off and with no lights. The snores from simple bedrooms flowed outward, making Starlight groan even more as she rubbed her head—moaning, perhaps whining.
After a minute or so of this dragged out journeying through her own town, she finally reached a building looking quite the same as the rest. It was the only one in the block that had its lights on—blazing bright as they blinded her for a moment when she entered.
Her vision cleared and she could see what was there: seats for waiting and glass windows that divided the room into neat sections. In each section was a metal table and four chairs around it. A white light hung above the table.
She caught sight of the only other pony (beside the midnight guards) in the building: a stallion wearing only a tie and a pair of glasses, looking serious and cool as he placed his forehooves on the table, tapping a hindhoof as he returned the glance at her; his wheat-colored wig-like mane only made his face appear even more severe.
She grinned.



Starlight closed the wooden door.
The table reflected the light too well—she covered her eyes as she looked on it.	
The stallion checked his watch. Then, he slumped his head on a rested hoof.
Finally, Starlight grabbed a chair and sat down.
The stallion looked at his watch again. "You know"—still reading the time, not minding Starlight—"time is of the essence. A second later and I would've called it quits."
"Oh, you're just splitting hairs!" Starlight said, speaking in as upbeat an attitude as she could muster, moving her hooves around though jittery. "Now, let's get on to business, shall we? Mister...?"
"Already forgot?" the stallion said. "An Internal Representative of Equestria. Sealed Scroll."
Starlight gulped.
"I've been sitting here since midnight. In other times, I would've asked for an explanation. However, the gravity of the situation—" then, yawning "—it's...not ideal."
Starlight rolled her eyes. "Are you going to tell us to join forces with you? United in a 'common cause'?"—emphasizing those last two words with hoofquotes.
"We both want to survive." He retracted his hooves from the table. "Do you want to live or not?"
"Our beliefs go beyond your petty fights," Starlight said, raising her voice and placing her hoof on the table. "We believe in a world bound together on the same level, in the same social strata. The reason why you have wars in the first place is because your bloated princes and princesses have no idea what we want—and, maybe, they don't care. They're only in it for the power, for more—but we don't want more."
"Ah, ah, ah, ah!"
Sealed Scroll lifted a hoof.
"Ponies like you, Starlight—admirable. Never wavering from your convictions. Sad that you're not on our side."
"I am on your side, but you don't know it," Starlight said, her grin growing. "If only Equestria would be ruled by no ruler: no monarch, no president, not even a permanent council of leaders. Then, there would be nopony on top to be corrupted by all that he wields. Instead, everypony works for everypony. Talk that out with the Princesses and I'll consider training some troops."
"Look, are you out of your mind?" Sealed Scroll raised an eyebrow, his lip never flinching as he spoke the incisive question. "If the Crystal army came here right now, what will your poor ponies do?"
"Our gyms surely would strengthen the bulk of our population."
"Any weapons aside the civil standard?"
Starlight rolled her eyes again, now crossing her forelegs. "In any case, we'll all suffer because of your greed."
"Our greed? Wha-how is that even remotely rational?" He placed his hooves on his tie, astonished.
"You quarrel about riches and your personal issues while you leave us to live with only some amenities!"
A slam on the table.
Her horn glowed.
"And, before you tell me that you'll report to Celestia and Luna about 'acts of aggression,' what about you"—her hoof on his nose—"think about all the deprivation you and your kind have caused through the years!"
Sealed Scroll scrambled out, blubbering but never saying another word inside as he dashed out the room and out the building.



Gulp, gulp, gulp. "Ah! That hits the spot!"
He put the now empty water bottle down on the cushioned seat.
Bump.
And his teeth clattered as he frantically held the window. Then biting his hooves.
Eyes wide open, mane frazzled, tie unkempt and unstraight, glasses down beside the water bottle.
As Sealed Scroll sat on the returning train.
Looked out the window.
Darkness over the land. The sky was cloudy; only a few stars twinkled as if peeking.
"Do you...need anything?" the train conductor asked, his thick beard and thick hat and round thick glasses distinguishing him as such. "I have gauze in my first aid—"
"No injuries sustained, sir," said Sealed Scroll in between gasps. "I'm...I'm OK. I'm alright."
The conductor then walked away and into another carriage.
Sealed Scroll looked out again.
It was pretty much the same dark landscape. While there were a few stop-by towns here and there and while there were ponies going in and out at times, his carriage remained mostly empty. Those that were there did not mind him; they, too, did not have happy faces as they slouched their backs lazily on the cushion or attached their faces to the window.
He looked as his hooves. They were shivering.



He got off the train at Canterlot.
Before he got off the wooden platform, he looked at the train station's massive clock.
It was one-thirty.
He turned around to see what was beyond the train tracks.
A lone taxi carriage sitting on the road.
The driver, a bulkier stallion, slapped himself awake as he saw Sealed Scroll descend the platform. "Ah, you must look important."
"No time!"
Sealed Scroll hopped into the carriage and threw a few bits into the tip box—nicely identified as a "Tip Box" by the sticker on it.
"Get me to Canterlot Castle! Pronto!"
"Will do!"
The driver whinneyed as he ran, pulling the carriage at a great speed, zipping past half-open lights and blurs of sidewalkers.



Hoofsteps in the hallway.
It was a long hallway of red carpets, checkered floors, lavender flowers, white columns, and colorful banners. The moon and the stars shone softly, the moonlight penetrating the tall slim windows only faintly—almost invisible beams touching down.
Sealed Scroll ran, still gasping until he finally stopped, breathing heavily—sweat on his face.
"Princess Luna, I...need to have an urgent word with you."
The pony in front of him was looking out one of the tall windows.
Her hooves were covered in metal blue hoofcovers. Her coat was a darker blue. Around her neck was a huge necklace of sorts, bearing the symbol of the moon. Her wings were closed as her long and flowing mane, along with her long and flowing tail—both moving about, ethereal like her sister's—they floated past those wings, twinkling and blinking like the stars in the sky. A small black crown over her horn, above her blue eyes.
She stood a good height taller than the pony before her.
The Princess turned to him. "You have permission. What is it?"
One more gasp. A breath. "The weird town between Neighagra Falls and Manehattan refuses to prepare for enemy forces. What is the next best course of action, Princess?"
Luna did not smile nor did she frown.
Instead, she looked out the window again. "There is not much else to do. They are not dangerously close to any field of battle as of this minute. I only say that you keep your eye on them. Make sure that they are well-fed and well-supplied."
A pause.
"At the very least, they will not say that we have neglected them nor ignored their needs—they, too, are our responsibility."
"Yes, Princess Luna," he said, looking down on the floor and bowing down to her.
She gave him a mere look.
Then, back out the window.
"You may now leave."
And the stallion left the hallway, leaving Princess Luna alone there.
She kept looking out the window. Her eyes were focused on the moon glittering so, a dim reflection of it on her two eyes. Her muzzle was upward, her mane flowing under the moonlight, too, in the hallway.