//------------------------------//
// Pre-dawn 
// Story: A War 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

Princess Luna then walked through a few more hallways and a few more rooms. All of them were occupied by guards of their white or gray coats, all armored. They gave her a nod as she passed by each of them. She nodded back, a subtle smile on her face.
Then, she reached another double door.
She lit up her horn in a blue glow.
The doorknobs glowed, too, as they turned.
They opened.
What lay before her was a short balcony with stone railings.
What lay before that balcony was a vast hall jam-packed with guards standing in their individual platoons and companies. Hoofsteps and murmurs echoed about, combining to form something that could not be understood—only general noise. These were equipped with weapons—spears, lancets, bows and arrows, crossbows, cannons. Earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns were all here, standing with not much else in movement.
The hall itself had no windows. It was all illuminated by artificial lights hanging from above.
On the balcony was none other than Princess Celestia watching over her guards.
Luna stepped forward to her sister's side.
The two stood beside each other, looking down on the substantial military before them.
"Sister," Luna began, "are you absolutely certain about this? They are already fiercely loyal to you. You do not have to go out to battle with them anymore."
Celestia sighed as she turned to face Luna. "These are different times. I wouldn't have done it if it was not that important. But, this is an unpredictable time. I do not know what the future holds."
A step forward.
"I must confide it to you, Luna, before I forget."
A look down before she looked back up, back at her sister.
"It is awful enough to send our ponies to fight, to risk...being able to come home to their families and friends. It is awful enough to strike foes when you know that they, too, feel and live like us—that we could not settle things in a more peaceful manner. But, we are forced to attack our fellow ponies and that is...that is..."
She looked down again.
Luna patted her sister on her head, reaching a little to do that.
"I...I can't use the Elements of Harmony that way," she said, her voice diminishing to a pained hush—away. "Knowing what...you went through—it is foolish to think that they would single-hoofedly solve everything."
Then, a hoof on her shoulder. "Does this mean you do not plan to use the Elements against Sombra?"
"It's against all reason. All will say, 'Take Sombra out!' It makes sense: the Crystal ponies don't want him, he's an evil tyrant with no care for any life but his, and he has a one-track mind bent on conquering the world. Is there revenge? Is there an ulterior motive beyond just that? I know he is more than just a face, a shadowy figure..."
Luna pulled her a little closer. "Sister, you're acting up again."
Celestia covered her mouth, closed her eyes and turned downward.
"I understand. But, at least you saw that I had good somewhere even then. Sombra is...much more mysterious."
Celestia glanced at the guards, none of them looking up. "Here!" she whispered as she guided Luna toward the doors.
Hiding from their soldiers below.
In front of the open doors, faces close to each other, their individual manes streaming endlessly.
"I...have a hope. There is a chance that I could save him from himself. There is still time—if we could just get him to talk—"
"You know he will not talk until he is overwhelmed," Luna said. "And, in order to overwhelm him, you must wage war."
"That is the cost," Celestia said. "Even if we end up victorious, many innocent ponies will..."
A choke.
"We are the wielders of the Elements. This war—it goes against what harmony stands for. Honesty clashes with espionage, kindness is incompatible with brutality, laughter is irreconcilable with cold-bloodedness, generosity thrives without greed, and loyalty destroys disloyalty—where I have to convince the Crystal ponies that who they are loyal to should not be served."
A leg wavered.
"Celestia," Luna spoke, holding her closer and tighter, "you're not in a right state of mind. You should let somepony else lead the way for now. You...you haven't slept yet and it's already the next day."
"I have to go," Celestia said, placing a hoof on her sister's shoulder—a face of sorrow, of hated anticipation. "These soldiers need one of us. This is the time when I have to go out to battle, to provide them the encouragement and the help they need."
"What if you get captured, sister?" Luna asked—worried, anxious.
"I have my ways," Celestia said, backing away from her as she did her best to make a smile. "As for you, go. Return to the dream realm and help the ponies still here. I am sure that you can comfort them."
And Celestia spread her wings and flew off the balcony.



The train at the station was a different one.
Instead of the colorful style and scheme of the Friendship Express, this one was as utilitarian as it could be—no paint, for example. Instead, the wooden planks and the metal parts were there for all to see in their unmodified appeal (or lack of appeal). There were no heart-shaped lights—only the basic lightbulbs in their circular compartments. The pipe coughed out black smoke and a rustic pony with an unshaved beard was handling both the coal and the train's controls.
As the long lines of troops slowly entered each carriage—and, when a few were full, the train would move a little forward to accompany the next batch of stoic soldiers—the other ponies who were awake so late (or so early) watched the unannounced parade. Princess Celestia herself stood on the sidewalk as she saw her ponies march onward, their hoofsteps stomping in unison as they brandished their weapons gleaming under the streetlights.
Camera flashes appeared only to disappear; pictures were printed out in an instant.
One of these reporters was Eff Stop, all perked up though with no smile. His hat was still there, clean as ever.
The parade lasted for a good ten minutes. No disturbances were caused and no one was disturbed from their sleep. The lights that were not on at the beginning did not turn on throughout. If one could strain their ears during this event, one could still hear the uninterrupted snores of some nearby Canterlot pony on his bed.
However, the parade did have to come to an end, and so the final soldier—donned in his military uniform, holding a spear close to his chest—was no longer to be seen as the final soldier's carriage closed.
"Civilians of importance!" a voice shouted from inside the train. "Civilians of importance! Your carriages are to be occupied now!"
And several ponies rushed to the train.
Diplomats and ambassadors in their suits and ties, express passengers in their khaki shorts and airy shirts, and reporters with their hats and cameras—Eff Stop was one of those "civilians of importance."
The final carriages were shut, the train whistled, and the wheels rolled.



It was pitch black inside.
"Hey, uh, could we have some light in here?"
"Oof! Don't touch me!"
"I wasn't touching you!"
"I feel cramped! Are you sure the windows are up?"
"Your disgusting cologne is rubbing off on me!"
"Guys, let's calm down and keep it civil."
"Can we open the doors?! I'm running out of oxygen!"
"Nopony's opening the doors! You should feel privileged for being able to get inside!"
"When I asked for the fastest ticket out of here, I wasn't asking to stay with officials!"
Then, a candle lit up, revealing everypony's faces under the muted light.
Coughs and wheezes.
"This carriage isn't ventilated! We're going to end up on stretchers thanks to you!"
"You've got someone else to take care of, then!"
"Get me out of here!"
The candle dropped and a few grunts.
The faint moonlight appeared.
Then its sliver was gone.
"Alright, who had the bright idea of opening the door while the train was moving?!"
"I'd rather stay healthy!"
"It's either you get a little sick or you get mighty sick when I throw you off board!"
"Don't step on my dress!"
"What did you expect? This isn't the longest train in the world!"
"They could've at least made seats!"
"I want seats, too!"
"You stiff Canterloters!"
"That's not how you call a Canterlot pony!"
"It is!"
"It's not!"
"It is!"
"It's not!"
"Will you stop?!"
Then all was quiet in the pitch black room.
A flicker of a match and then a candle. Everyone could see each other again.
The pony holding this candle had a cap and glasses. "Can we agree to endure this ride until the very end? Can we agree to not annoy anyone until we're out?"
The faces nodded silently.
"Good. This won't take long anyway. Estimated at about one hour and a half."
"One hour and a half?! How are we supposed to survive that with your candle?! And the smoke?!"
"Ask the charcoal guy. He probably knows a lot about it."
"I want to live! I don't want to die undignified in the middle of a train! I should've volunteered! If I die here out of smoke, I would have died on my way to serve Equestria, not as some onlooker like all of you!"
"Then, why didn't you enlist?!"
"I'm afraid to get hurt!"
"Are you kidding me?!"
A hoof threw the candle—and the light—away, plunging the carriage into pitch black again.
"OK, who did that?!"
"I'm hungry!"
Then, an irritated chatter arose from them.
A groan. "I was tasked to handle mature ponies, not babysit a couple of whiny whiners."



Many ponies gasped for fresh air as they stumbled on terra firma.
The ground, however, was not as fresh.
Actually, the air was also cold. Bitingly cold.
A windy gust, a freezing and chilling gale whipped up their manes into a flying frenzy as snowflakes shot past them at blinding speed. The snow was inches deep and unicorns resorted to creating magical shields to bring the civilian passengers to safety.
They sludged through the snowy wasteland; in almost all directions, there was nothing but the cloudy starless sky and the endless rolls of snow.
They could see some tall silhouettes in the distance.
The passengers were silent as the barrier unicorns held their shields up, bracing the brunt of the raging weather both in snow and in wind.
After a minute, they reached those silhouettes.
It was actually an imromptu residence for the military—billets, in other terms. Small wooden one-story houses lined up and spaced out evenly, and wooden frameworks indicated the construction of even more despite the harsh conditions—mostly Earth ponies making up the building crew as they hauled over long logs of timber and heavy boxes of nails and hammers, wearing (among other things) goggles that shielded their eyes. The soldiers that were there did not wear goggles but, instead, kept their armor intact and unchanged. Some were sitting on rocking chairs as they downed hot cocoa in seconds before hurrying back inside their rooms. Pegasi were hovering and flapping their wings high up above the billets, attempting to divert the winter's flow away from their fellow warriors.
The road was not visible. It was covered in a blanket of snow accumulating even more snow. Deep hoofprints were on the slightly unstable ground.
Then, all without a word, one of the unicorns pointed at a large building. It was larger than the rest of the houses and, unlike those also, it did not have a flat roof—it was slanted.
Everyone got inside.
Most of them slumped on the couches and on the chairs and on the tables. Some stretched their hooves into the air, mimicking the motions of a pony about to faint only to be sternly told that it was only a tenth-of-a-kilometer trip. A lot of them were quick to warm themselves in front of the two fireplaces over there, rotating their hooves near the blazing fire while they sat on rugs and carpets.
Eff Stop was one of them.
Then, hoofsteps from behind the counter at the far end.
Everypony looked at him.
He was a pony with a thinning yellow mane and round thin-rimmed glasses. He had a long jaw and his cutie mark was a brush dipped in blue paint.
"I won't let you stay long here without knowing the rules," he began. "Every single thing in this place is important;
anything could be given away to the enemy. No one speaks and we'll be over in a minute or two."
Everypony else blinked quietly; the fires cackled and cracked; the snowstorm outside tore any silence apart.
"One: Be transparent. Two: No leaking of information. Three: Reveal to others only what we'll let you reveal. Any questions, come to me."
Then, the glasses-wearing stallion went through a door and was then gone.
He closed the door.
Sounds of locking.
A few more seconds.
And then the crowd erupted into chatter yet again; this time, there was less complaining and more inquiring.
Eff Stop, alongside other reporters, was furiously scribbling down notes on his pad, sticking out his tongue as he thought ahead of his quill.
Then, he laid it down, placed his pad on his hat, and sighed, resting himself on a window pane.
The pegasus ignored the constant talking in the room and looked outside.
He could not see much. The fog of the snowstorm, coupled with the darkness of the night, obscured his vision. Yet, after squinting his eyes, he could make out two figures, barely outlines in the vigorous haze, standing across each other.



"Good thing I found you!" the soldier yelled as he and Special Delivery—still in mailpony uniform—stood across each other in the middle of the snowstorm.
Special Delivery held a wing to his face, blocking much of the incoming snow from impacting his head.
A letter on the soldier's hoof.
The mailpony grabbed it and stuffed it into his bag.
The letter's owner ran away, departing from view, entering the unclear fog—the rage of the storm.



Special Delivery entered the train and closed the door himself, escaping the bleak weather and leaving himself in the company of a few other ponies, all but one of them sleeping and that one being the train's conductor and coal-digger.
The train started its way backward.



After a while, the train stopped and Special Delivery flew off into the purple sky.
Streaks of sunlight were pouring in, though the sun itself was not there yet.
The mailpony flew past the Ponyville cottages and town hall, dodging streetlights and trees and signs.
Finally, he landed in front of a house, inserted the letter in the mailbox, and flew away whistling.
"Huh?" a voice said.
Applejack steered from her path and walked to the mailbox.
Only she and the mailbox were under the nearest streetlight.
Crickets chirped from the grass, although she could hear a bird's song.
She looked at one of the trees.
Indeed, there was a bird perched on an overhanging branch.
"Thunderlane's family usually don't get letters this early," she said to herself, placing a hoof on her chin as she pondered. Then, she gasped.
Applejack took off her hat and solemnly put it on her chest.
"It's his first letter."
She stood there for a moment, her hat still on her chest as she remained before the mailbox.
Then, she took her hat on again.
"Reading it first ain't right. I'll head my way to the market."
And so she did, leaving the mailbox.



The Ponyville Marketplace, as it was officially called, was a wide open area where stands and stalls were aplenty. All kinds of things were sold here: fruits and vegetables, utensils and jewelry, chocolates and candies, books and art, fans and instruments, ketchup and mustard. Ponies were already flocking to the marketplace, a good number of them setting up their businesses for the day while they paid attention to the early-risers who were up and out even before dawn. They placed their price tags and stocked their displays, some of them adjusting this or that item ever so minutely so as to make the perfect attraction.
In the marketplace, however, was not much talking or camaraderie. Instead, there was a deafening silence only broken by hoofsteps and the occasional cough and "Excuse me." In spite of that, their smiles reigned the atmosphere as they proceeded to buying and selling, to getting and giving—the clinking and clanking of bits becoming commonplace once more.
Applejack, with empty saddlebags on her body, looked about her, seeing the varied kiosks and mini-retails. She saw a bigger store by the side and saw that business pony, now with slick mane again, flip the sign from "Closed" to "Open".
Then, the sun rose.