Just within the edge of the tangled forest, three equine forms lay on the reverse slope of a broad hill and peeked over the crest. Cuts and scrapes covered them; manes and tails were tangled and ragged. Even their coats, smudged and roughened, lacked the usual sleek luster of civilized ponies. A faint reek of stale sweat clung to their bodies, spiced with a whiff of smokeless powder on the pegasus mare. The Everfree Forest had not treated them kindly, though the two unicorns had insisted stoutly they got off lightly.
They spared scarcely a glance for the magnificent alpine panorama before them to the north, hazy with distance and heavy with evening shadows, the western ramparts of the mountain chain cleft by Canterlot’s pass. Instead their singular attention focused on the long narrow valley below that stretched east and west.
In a large clearing on the valley floor, near the base of the next row of foothills, nestled a town of clapboard and shake. On its south edge lay a small railyard and a Y-junction heading northwest, southwest, and eastward. On the near side of the latter two branches ran a metalled turnpike, likely the original highway they followed. Birdsong surrounded the three ponies and faint snippets of voice or work sounds from the settlement wafted to their ears. At first glance the scene appeared idyllic. The trio greeted the apparent calm with relief.
Rose lowered the binoculars she’d pulled from one of her satchels for a closer look at the inhabitants. “Judging by body language and movements, they’re pretty nervous down there, but everypony’s going about their business. Life goes on, after all. I’d say the town grew up around the junction and the maintenance yard—there’s no sign of agriculture or other industry. I can’t see any activity on the rail lines, which doesn’t surprise me, but that small locomotive and rolling stock on the sidings could be a bit of luck.”
“We’ll need to get presentable before we hit town—as much as we can, at least.” Cook rubbed his eyes with bent fetlocks. “Captain, who are you?”
“Captain Rose Brass, EUPG, retired.” Rose proceeded to rattle off a brief career history, not unlike her real military résumé, though with units and assignments transposed to references more familiar to pony ears.
Cook nodded in weary satisfaction. “And who are you, young lady?”
“Analemma—Ana for short. Just graduated from Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns summa cum laude.” The teen looked proud but a little troubled, and broke character long enough to ask, “Is that really necessary, Cook? It seems—I don’t know, what’s that old line about lilies?”
“‘To paint the lily’, I think, is what you’re talking about,” Cook replied, “though most folks misquote it as ‘to gild the lily’. No, it’s not absolutely necessary, but little touches like that can help cement a legend. After all, you did graduate summa from CHS, and I have no doubt you’d have done the same at SGU if you’d stayed. Besides, there’s no way anypony could talk to you for more than five minutes without figuring out you’re bright as a limelight. Go on.”
Obediently Sunset recited a mostly fictional summary of Analemma’s young life. She needed just a single cue, and Cook reluctantly assigned her a passing grade. “But don’t forget those details. Every text I’ve read on the subject stresses that submerging yourself in your assumed identity is the best thing you can do. For the duration, you aren’t playing a role. You are Analemma. Remember that.”
“And who are you?” Rose asked him with a hint of malicious cheer.
“Silver Platter,” Cook replied promptly. “Butler and valet, currently between engagements. This little inconvenience certainly won’t make it any easier to find new employment. And no, I can’t discuss my previous clients, thank you very much; professional discretion, don’t you know.”
“It’s a topsy-turvy world where a butler can be more secretive than an officer,” Rose mused half-seriously.
Sunset couldn’t help snickering and even Cook essayed a slight smile as he answered, “Oh, I’m sure there’s plenty you can’t talk about in either persona, Captain. The difference is, ponies and other people know that about the military and take it for granted. Now, how did we get here?”
Rose looked to Sunset meaningfully; the latter sighed. “My uncle Silver and I were traveling together on the train back to Canterlot for the Friendship Festival. We made it as far as Ponyville when a strange airship showed up and attacked the town. We barely got away.”
“I was on the same train, heading to Canterlot for a unit reunion as part of the Festival,” added Rose. “I hooked up with you two more or less by accident in the chaos, and we’ve traveled together ever since.” She paused and asked her own out-of-character question. “How well is all this going to stand up?”
“Always start by being as vague as possible without actually waving a hoof.” Cook waved a hoof. “But what really makes this work is the fact Equestria is a telegraph-and-newspaper country—and as yet hasn’t come up with the idea of identity papers. Here, you are who you say you are, and national authorities aside, it’s hard to prove otherwise. Since those authorities have to be pretty discombobulated at the moment, they probably can’t or even won’t gainsay us. Now, before we head down there, let’s see if we can dunk ourselves in a stream, at least.”
“Sorry, Mister Platter, but ’s far’s I know the trains ain’t runnin’.” The station master shook his head. “Ain’t heard nothin’ from Canterlot th’ last day’r two. The telegrapher said she got a coupla garbled messages, somethin’ ’bout fightin’ in th’ streets, then it cut out. Folks here are plenty worried, I can tell you.”
“That much probably is correct, good sir,” Cook told him with perfect composure. “In fact, my niece and I, along with our companion, barely escaped with our lives at Ponyville. As you may know, Canterlot is quite visible from there. We could see clearly the smoke above the city. Indeed, almost certainly we are merely the first of many ponies you may see fleeing the troubles. More could be here within hours.”
The elderly earth pony blinked and his mouth flapped a couple of times. Sunset jumped into the silence, gazing up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, sir, if we can’t get to Canterlot, we’ve got family in Tall Tale up north.” She pointed along the northwest branch of the junction.
“Well, now, Missy, I ain’t sure—”
“There’s a locomotive and some rolling stock on the sidings,” Rose pointed out on cue. “Surely you can put together a train and crew.”
“That’s a switcher engine, Ma’am, an’ b’sides, I ain’t got th’ authority t’—”
“If refugees are on the way,” she added baldly, “the enemy may not be far behind. Think about that.”
The hapless functionary’s face and ears sagged. “I—”
“May I suggest,” Cook resumed smoothly, “that you consult with the mayor and whatever local authorities you can reach quickly. If you start now, you might have everything ready before the first of the displaced ponies show up. If not, who knows what might happen?”
“Riots,” Rose muttered. “Ponies trampling each other to reach the train.”
“If they can’t get to the train,” Sunset put in, face troubled, “they might take it out on the town.”
“I dunno . . .” By now the station master bore a distinct trapped look, eyes flicking around.
“And if the enemy marches up during the panic—” Rose affected her best grim expression. With her scars and eyepatch it was very grim indeed.
Suddenly the stallion was gone. The trio looked at each other, expressions ambivalent. “Well,” Cook murmured with a sigh, “let’s hope that worked. We could take this show on the road.”
“We are,” said Sunset.
Less than an hour later railroad employees of all kinds were working frantically. Rose winced frequently—haste, the inexperience of station and clerical workers dealing with rolling stock alongside the actual trainponies, and the lack of modern concepts of workplace safety made for a hair-raising spectacle. Sunset simply couldn’t bring herself to watch and accompanied Cook as the latter buttonholed the portly, sweating earth pony unfortunate enough to hold the office of mayor. It took all the diplomat’s wiles to soothe the older stallion’s jitters enough that his stovepipe hat no longer threatened to fall off his head. That was, unfortunately, the last thing that went to plan.
The first sign of events going off the rails was a rapid metronome-steady clumping rhythm that grew steadily louder in tandem with a cloud of dust approaching on the turnpike from the east. Incipient anxiety was allayed when a vanguard of ponies became visible, trotting in cadence and clad in kepis and campaign coveralls, regimental colors at the fore and slung rifles bristling.
Townsfolk began wandering out to welcome the Guard unit, and even Rose ambled over. “Huh. Double time. In a hurry, aren’t they? I guess they wanted to reach a decent bivouac before sundown,” she commented in an undertone. “Too big to be a platoon, too small to be a battalion. I’d say it’s a company of . . . ah, infantry, I guess. I don’t suppose either of you recognizes the colors?”
Cook and Sunset shook their heads, and the younger mare added in an unsettled tone, “I remember Principal Celestia subbing in a history class once. She mentioned that armies around the time you talked about, um, Uncle Silver, had three branches—infantry, cavalry, and artillery. I didn’t make the connection before, but Princess Celestia, in one of the last classes I had with her, talked about the three branches of the Guard, with the same names.”
Rose thought a moment. “Oh. Cavalry here is what we’d call aircav—air cavalry. Got it.” Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “But—”
“Being a warrior was pretty important in the old pegasus tribe,” Sunset explained. “So they were the big shots. I never did figure out all the details, but somehow or other the Guard got the name from them.”
Rose shook her head wryly. “Ah, military tradition. Nice to see it’s as weird and twisty here as it is back home.”
As they watched and conversed, the infantry company reached the broad expanse of packed earth and low grass that surrounded the tiny railyard and the road beside it, then began shaking itself out from marching order into formation amidst much shouting and gesturing of guidons. The railroad workers, who’d paused in their hurried labors to gawk, were chivvied back to work by their bosses. Idle townsponies drifted closer to watch. The infantry company, for its part, seemed to ignore the civilians.
Rose frowned. “Wait. That doesn’t look like evening muster. They’re—”
Under the hubbub a new thumping rolled in the distance. Rose whipped around and galloped toward the gathering crowd. At the top of her lungs she hollered, “Get out of here now! The enemy is coming up the road! Go go go!”
There was instant pandemonium. Screams drowned out the calls of officers and sergeants. Ponies fled in all directions including upward. Some of the railroad workers broke and ran; others bent to their tasks with feverish intensity. Rose backwinged to a halt and stared, transfixed, as the Guard fell into firing lines facing back the way they’d come. Cook and Sunset scrambled for cover behind a stack of railroad ties.
No doubt the battle would be named for the town, if anypony lived to tell of it.