On Friday, "The Watchful Hawk" from Appleloosa had an image of a white flag rent to a thousand pieces scattered about by the wind in the middle of a hailstorm. This was the headline news:
Perfidy! More War Rules Broken!
During the battle over Whinnypeg early this morning, soldiers and journalists at the scene witnessed the entire Crystal army hold up their hooves and wave a white flag—only for them to strike when our warriors were most vulnerable.
This happened at about 5 AM, near the northern outskirts of the city.
While there are no clear estimates on how many Crystal ponies fell after that, our correspondents reported numbers between 100 to 250.
Many in Equestria and even beyond decry this horrid act. "It is further proof that this evil Sombra must be stopped at all costs," said Princess Celestia soon after raising today's sun. "He shows no respect nor love for any life but his own, which I have stated time and again with evdience to boot."
This act delivered a blow upon Equestrian unity. One side claims that we must maintain our respect for the conventions of war; this side includes such figures as the Princesses themselves, Captain Shining Armor, and General Radar. The other side declares that if our enemies can freely dispose of such cumbersome conventions, then we can, too; this side includes such personalities as General Spearhead, and the Council of Equestrian Representatives by near-unanimous vote on the issue.
No matter which way the discussion swings, the Crystal Empire isn't letting up: recent gains near the Galloping Gorge proved to be cause for alarm within the past week.
On Saturday, a conversation between Thunderlane and Octavia continued from opposite sides of the kingdom. This day, Thunderlane sent this letter:
I don't know about you, but something strange is going on here. The Crystal Empire has not assaulted our lines at all since Thursday. It's a relief to us since that gives us time to resupply and to rest from all this nerve-wracking fighting, but it's getting us worried. Silence is never a good thing if it comes from the enemy. Are they about to deploy some deadly new weapon we've never heard of before? What could be deadlier than those chemical bombs they've been setting off somehow in Las Pegasus and then in Dodge Junction? From what I've heard, they're not so harmful, but I doubt that.
Anyway, if this doesn't calm you down, just think of this as a notice that I'm still alive.
- Thunderlane
On Monday, Octavia replied and her response was sent to his barracks in Manehattan.
I'm glad that you are alive and, I'm assuming, in tip-top shape. From what I could deduce from what you've written, you seem to be finer than these recent times, which is a good sign.
I would only be exasperating both myself and you if I ask you again when you think you're going on leave. However, I don't think it hurts to know how your comrades are truly doing, for I'm beginning to have a distrust for the local news. The numbers of our casualties don't match with the mad drive for volunteers over here. Yesterday, a stallion from town hall shouted at me for not having any friends in the military—even though I said that I knew you. He would not believe me.
Keep yourself safe wherever you are, Thunderlane.
- Octavia
On Tuesday, this letter reached Octavia's room in some backwater apartment room in Sorrel:
If you can see this letter, then that means I'm still safe and still alive, which is good for the both of us. Captain Spitfire's putting us on training overdrive. We finished hundreds of wing push-ups, hundreds of pull-ups, and exactly 500 laps. She said it's for a big operation we're having by Friday. I don't wanna think what that means if we're pushing ourselves to our bodies' aboslute limit. Even the experienced guys and gals are stopping once in a while to catch a breath. To her credit, Spitfire herself went through the exercise, too, though she didn't tire out—I shouldn't be surprised. Soarin also didn't get tired; neither did Rainbow Dash. The rest is up to you to think about.
On other news, we've been receiving shipments of cannon pieces since this morning. They look like cannons, but I'm not so sure. They're too thin to be cannons. Looks like leaf blowers. Whatever this new cannon is, I hope this is the magic solution that will end the war. If not, we'll have to wait until I get on leave, if any of us will get that privilege.
Don't get yourself too worked up about me. As long as I write to you, I'm not dead.
I miss you, Octavia. Hope to see you soon.
- Thunderlane
On Wednesday, her answer was given to Thunderlane by mailpony.
Your big operation sounds daunting. It's not a coincidence, then, that you're getting new weapons, albeit I think you know that already. I myself have no idea what specific purpose they serve since I am not well-versed in the military field.
The thought of you being so far away does sadden me. However, I have diverted some of that into composing a somber solo piece for the cello. I'm certain that you won't have any disagreements with that; I don't want to wallow in unnecessary tears, but there must be a means to express my emotions.
Not much else has happened today. I bought groceries, ate lunch at the local grill, and talked with the locals. The general opinion I could gather from them was that there's no general opinion. Everypony has radically different ideas about the necessity of the war and how the war should be conducted. There is no reason to be upset if you are anxious about this, for it leans towards whole-heartedly supporting the cause.
Since you'll be off in the big operation on Friday, be sure to write something before then. This might be the last letter you will see from me if things don't go so well.
Follow your captain, coordinate with your fellow Wonderbolts, and help your other soldiers there. They'll be needing you.
- Octavia
By Friday, not a single scrap of paper reached her.
On Saturday, "Current Currents" from Rose Springs had this article underneath a slew of explosive frontpage news:
Libraries and Museums Emptied as Last Resort
Princess Celestia has issued a decree ordering ponies in endangered towns and cities to take down everything from their libraries and museums and other collections of cultural art and send it off to safer places such as Canterlot and Alligatorfield with their secured archives and vaults.
Many obeyed this decree, their structures now devoid of anything. Only blank walls and shelves remain for most, while some are still being shipped out in long-haul wagons.
The Princess said that "we don't want a repeat of what happened in Vanhoover with the mass burning of important parts of the city's and, ultimately, our culture and identity. So much precious information and art is lost thanks to the brutish acts of Sombra."
On Sunday, this note was nailed on a traveling wagon resting under a copse of oak trees:
To the pony this may concern,
Due to your unusual occupation, I, Mayor Strong Honor of the City of Bluegrass, exempt you from the draft. This is subject to change in the near future. In the meantime, continue the practice of your occupation as you see fit as long as you do not interfere with the maintenance of the war effort in the city. Provided that you follow this, you are to be welcomed to bring the desired entertainment and joy that the remaining populace is in severe need of. However, you are not bound to this duty for, as stated before, you can perform your occupation as you see fit barring the condition in the caveat above.
Signed,
Mayor Strong Honor