//------------------------------//
// Known Unknowns 
// Story: A War 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

The sky turned a bright blue again, telling all that the day has arrived—a new day.
Many ponies looked up at the sun as it rose, bringing its enveloping glow on to all the land.
Applejack breathed a sigh of relief as she then headed her way to that bigger store.
It was taller than the rest of the stalls there in the market. In fact, it was the only proper building in the market. Its facade was an open-air section where antiques and bargain-value hats were on display. Above the wooden glass doors was its distinguishing sign: it had a blurred smorgasbord of goods.
She walked past the glass doors and entered the store proper.
The Earth pony stepped on to the floor, away from the ground.
"Why, hello, Applejack," the business pony said behind the counter and the cash register, somewhat despondent.
On the walls' shelves and on the aisles' racks was an assortment of products, a mini-mall on its own. Beyond the fruits and vegetables that could be seen back outside, there was butter, jellybeans, donuts, window curtains, timber, power tools, paint, paintbrushes, combs, fabric, toys, stationery, sofas, quills, even cash registers. The piece de resistance, however, was a round platform between many aisles. This platform held lots of apple-based products: apples, apple juice, apple cider, apple jam, apple fragrances, fake apple bushes. And, what was the very thing that made it the highlight of that magnificent exhibit? Jars of rainbow-colored jam, proudly labeled with a flourished hoofwriting: "Zap Apple Jam from Sweet Apple Acres!"
Yet the business pony himself had his eyes downcast, his muzzle downward also.
"Hi, Mr. Rich," Applejack said as she walked to the counter. "I jus' need some shears and some others. Rarity's gettin' swamped with the additional work with all that dull gray garb they need over there. I reckon Winter Wrap Up's animal ponies need a helping hoof on that."
"Sure do," he said, only moving his head as he leaned on the counter.
She turned around to gather what she needed, taking down her saddle bags first and then gathering the items.
Mr. Rich watched as she progressed through her shopping list—the first and, so far, the only customer of the day. He glanced at a picture beside the register and held it close to his eyes.
A happy photograph. Him, his wife, and their daughter. Filthy Rich smiling as he wrapped his family all in one hoof, a single-hoofed hug. Spoiled Rich with a snooty, upward smile that implied disdain at the very pony taking the picture. Diamond Tiara smiling widely, her tiara sparkling under the camera's flash.
The stallion sighed as he then hugged the picture.
"Uh, am I interrupting somethin'?" Applejack asked.
Mr. Rich's eyes went wide as he speedily put the picture back, turned around, and smiled—only for that smile to be gone. "No," he then said with no energy.
Applejack placed her packed-full saddle bags on to the counter.
Mr. Rich then began the process of checking each item and placing it on another side of the counter.
Applejack merely watched.
No words were said. Only the sounds of plopping things on to the counter.
Then, after pressing some buttons on the register, he said, "That would be fifty-three bits."
Applejack brought out a tiny bag of bits and dropped it on the counter.
Mr. Rich untied it and let the stack of bits topple.
He grabbed the fifty-three bits and stuffed it into the register, leaving the change untouched.
"How's your family?" Applejack asked as she picked the remaining bits up.
"Doing fine for the most part," Mr. Rich replied, looking off. "Diamond is doing well for herself in school despite the...difficulties we're all having with the war going on. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."
"Why, I just passed by Thunderlane's house right before I got here!" She took one step back—surprised.
He furrowed his brows, looking at something underneath the counter. "I am proud of your sister for comforting his brother through this troublesome time, though," he continued. "She is a compassionate fellow, and, while I'm sure none of us want this to go on, she'll do great when it comes to helping others when their families...well..."
"It's alright," she said, lower than usual. "It makes my heart melt to see my little Apple Bloom grow up good."
Mr. Rich turned his head a little. "Spoiled, on the other hoof..."
"Oh, you mean her?" Her voice became bothered, a playful smirk on her lips.
He sighed, noticed the register was still open and then closed it. "She's telling me that I should capitalize on the fact that we're at war. Even told me to sell spears because they'll be as hot as hotcakes in an amusement park! I do appreciate some more money, but I could never round up the courage to do such a thing."
Applejack bit her lip. "You are bringing her more often in your down-to-earth trips, aren't ya'?"
"Might as well be a chronic disease."
She groaned.
"Yet, many ponies have been cured of chronic diseases. We have a hospital here, so it can't be that bad."
Applejack smiled. "You've got the hope, Mr. Rich."
He smiled, too—his tired eyes over it. "We all need it, Applejack." A pause. "And, thanks for stopping by."
"Yer' welcome."
She waved as she left the store.
He waved back at her.



Back in the marketplace, Applejack walked with her full bags and showing no signs of struggling to carry them both.
"Applejack? Is that you?"
Her ears went up. "Rarity?"
The unicorn walked past the stalls, her gait being regulated and ordered. She also had two saddle bags on her body, though unlike Applejack's, they were not full although the farmpony could not see what exactly was inside besides some rolls of felt.
The two stood right at the path's center where many ponies came and went with bags, baskets, and other sorts of containers whether full or empty or somewhere in between.
In the sky, three pegasi in armor patrolled the town from above.
"How is everything going, darling?" Rarity asked. She took notice of the stuffed bags on Applejack. "Looks like somepony is going to hibernate for the winter. It's spring. We have yet another season betwixt now and then."
"'Betwixt'?" Applejack rolled her eyes. "Is that even a word?"
Rarity giggled. "Joking aside, Applejack, I deem it almost useless to continue this...rivalry."
"I was kinda' surprised when you sported that uppity attitude of yours," Applejack said. "But, I take it that you're doing well with...uh, whatcha' call it?"
"I am no expert on these...things myself, darling," Rarity answered, throwing an imaginary thing with her hoof, "but these uniforms are so...lifeless. Yet, they are what the ponies over in Canterlot say are the most efficient."
"You've got some machinery in your boutique?" Applejack asked. "'Cause, I don't think there's not much space when it comes to hoof-made art."
"I have standards," Rarity said, her horn glowing as she floated a few rolls of felt into view. "Instead of having not a single bright hue, I've taken the liberty of adding these things to their apparel's repertoire!"
"Rarity, you're missing the point," Applejack said, walking up to one floating roll and grabbing it with a swift hoof. "Haven't ya' learned anything from the first ever battle?"
"And that is...?" Rarity said, tapping her hoof impatiently.
"Having 'bright hues' on uniforms makes you a sittin' duck. That's why they're researchin' on those...hidin' and disguisin' clothes—"
"Camouflage. It's camouflage."
"Whatever you call it."
It was Rarity's turn to roll her eyes.
The two then walked down the wide path, passing by the market's many small booths of goods.
"So, really, Applejack. How are things?"
Applejack had a lump on her throat. "Smoothly as usual. We've been able to keep up with the increased workload, having to supply more than just Ponyville, you know."
"Are you able to get by?"
"Yeah." Applejack looked up toward the sky; barring the pegasi tainting the scene, the sky was even brighter and even bluer. "It's makin' us sweat and tired more, but that don't matter when you realize that everypony's dependin' on ponies like us to keep them alive, 'specially the soldiers."
Rarity hummed an approving hum.
"So, how about you, Rarity?" Applejack asked. "How are you?"
Rarity then hummed a pondering hum, her eyes looking up. "My father is puzzled about it all. He wants to still be with us, but he has that sense of duty that he must fulfill. He is a unicorn with a strange propensity for mere toughness."
Applejack smiled a bit. "Hondo Flanks was a football player. I'm pretty sure he's useful for the chargin' brigades."
"But, he's mellowed, darling," Rarity answered, twirling her mane with her magic—glowing blue. "He's not as strong as before."
"Jus' give him some trainin' and he's gonna do swell," Applejack suggested. "Trust me."
Rarity smiled, too. Then, she pouted. "But, if he does regain the strength of his youth, then that's all the more reason to send him off! And, I don't want to leave my dear sister without a father even if it's for one week!" Her voice strained.
Applejack sighed as she looked down, the two of them still walking. "Then, let's hope that it's all gonna be over soon. Quicker it is, better it'll be for all o' us."
Rarity nodded in agreement. "You are right, Applejack. I'll do my best to keep my father from serving there. Am I not already serving by producing good clothes?"
Applejack snickered. "What about you go ask a real soldier? Take his advice, hm?"
Rarity looked up again, thinking. "Why not? Certainly better than doing it all in the dark."
Applejack smiled again at that.



Sugarcube Corner could be described best as a gingerbread bakery. Although the bakery itself was not made up of edible material, it was mouthwatering to behold. Gingerbread all layered in white frosting and cream, a cupcake on top, candy canes on top and between the pink door, purple flowers on the side—these are all just analogies, for the bakery looked like a gingerbread bakery but it certainly was not made up of actual gingerbread.
As Applejack approached it, about to walk up the few steps to the entrance, the door opened and out barreled a yellow stallion with a cowpony hat and a vest. His blonde, tacky hair was not short. His cutie mark was one apple.
"Applejack! Boy, is it good to see you!"
"Braeburn!"
The two Apple ponies hugged each other in front of Sugarcube Corner.
"Oh, Applejack! You're safe and sound as a turnip preserved in a shelf!" He ruffled up her mane and then held her at hoof's length. "You are safe here, right? Being closer to the Empire than us Appleloosans—I was just worried every night ever since we got the news! Even worse—the Oranges, too!"
Applejack let go of his grip. "I'm fine, Braeburn. It's good to be seein' you, cousin."
"Excellent!" Braeburn exclaimed as he hurried to the steps. "We can talk about lots o' topics and what's what—is everypony else safe as well?"
Applejack followed him. "They're all safe. You don't have to think too much 'bout us. We won't call for help unless—"
Then, Braeburn yanked her and brought her inside the bakery.
If the outside of Sugarcube Corner was that of a gingerbread house, then the inside was just as colorful and cheery. Cyan planks of wood, luminous walls of yellow, candy cane columns, glass displays of creative cakes and pies (but no cakepies) beyond the normal ones: peanut butter orange cake and salted chili chocolate pie were only two of the more exotic choices to be found there.
And, of course, the sweet scent of sugar permeating the bakery.
Attending the counter was Mrs. Cake, also known as Cup Cake. She was a round pony with swirling mane that could be mistaken for cake frosting.
"Hi, Applejack!" she said as she saw Braeburn accompany his cousin inside. "Braeburn was waiting for you ever since five!"
"Five?" Applejack expressed, then looking at her cousin with a strange look. "That's mighty early for ya'. You somehow got a train at that time, too?"
Braeburn nodded as he sat down at a small table that had a plate of half-eaten strawberry pie. "I couldn't take it any more; my sleeps were gettin' shorter and shorter until I couldn't handle it! So, while everypony else was sleepin', I sorta' snuck out—I got Silverstar's permission and he was very understandin'."
Applejack placed her hat down in front of the pie.
"Are you yearnin' for something to chew on, Applejack?" Mrs. Cake asked.
"I already had my own breakfast—thank you."
Mrs. Cake looked at Applejack, concern on her face as she then peeked into the kitchen.
"Good thing we have a sturdy family to fall back on," Braeburn said, bringing Applejack closer with his hoof. "We've got each other, cousin! Even if Equestria falls, they'd have to get through the Apple family first before they eliminate us forever!"
Applejack pulled herself out of his grip again, narrowly avoiding getting her face smacked with a mouthful of pie.
"Anything else goin' on, Applejack?" Braeburn then asked. "You look a bit frail. Overwork?"
"Nah." Applejack shoved the qusetion aside. "These...news, Braeburn. I...Granny Smith said she never saw conflict like that ever in her life." Her voice became breathy. "She's seen some scuffles before. But...I don't think we've seen the beginnin' of this."
"Aww, don't be such a sour spot!" Braeburn said, resorting to ruffling her mane again. "Besides, the Crystal Empire is teensy tiny! Even if it's chock full of ponies, they're not enough to take over us! Any setbacks we're havin' on our part—just bad luck and bad decisions. We're gonna make it a-OK," and he ended that with a grin.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that if I were you."



After a while, the two cousins left Sugarcube Corner and parted ways—Braeburn to the train station, Applejack back to roaming around in town.
As she walked the roads of Ponyville, she passed by the same houses, the same stores, the same old buildings; passed over the same rivers on the same wooden bridges.
She looked on at the ponies who were seated at the tables in one of the restaurants. Their faces, though smiling, were subdued, as if their smiles were only there because that was tradition.
"Braeburn oughta' be right," Applejack muttered to herself as she walked, passing by some trees and then approaching Rarity's boutique—a tall and fancy (if not regal) thin structure of pink, blue, yellow, and white; canopies, model horses, and a flag on top.
"But, what if he isn't right? What if I'm the one who's right? That this ain't the beginnin'? I don't want to know how long this is gonna last. Will...will I live to see the end of it?"
Then, she shook her head.
"Heh. Maybe I am overworked."
A pause.
She frowned as she stopped right in front of the boutique.
It was a face of despair.
"No. I'm not."