"Legionnaires who have proven themselves in battle should begin looking at starting a traditional Equestrian family as a duty. We live in dangerous times when the smoldering embers of our relations with our neighboring countries can easily ignite into the fires of war. As such, the task of raising a fit next generation must never be taken for granted. Who knows when an Ursan Extermination Campaign might suddenly come crashing down from the west? Who knows how many brave and strong legionnaires will fall to quell such a threat before they can pass on their good qualities to the next generation?
Let me remind you that the Legion, as an institution, will not force you to marry and procreate. Nor will it arrange for potential partners on your behalf. The creation and maintenance of the traditional Equestrian families that form the building blocks of our society is a domestic issue; outside of the purview of the Legion, even if the components of a particular family are legionnaires. It falls to the individual legionnnaire to approach this duty in earnest.
Arrange for yourselves marriages that are both sensible and ones that you can be content with. Be wary of strong feelings. A legionnaire who breaks ranks, and charges an unknown foe because they are enraged is sure to be met with calamity. A pony who chooses their mate recklessly because they are enamored and lustful will fare no better. Involve your families. They are more likely to be levelheaded thanks to their outside perspective, and will temper your feelings with wisdom. Think of your future offspring, the ones who will shoulder the duties of an Equestrian citizen in the future; consider the health they will inherit in body and in mind, consider the resources that can be used for their sake. Consider marrying outside the Legion, preferably a pony in a safer profession, so that, if war breaks out, both parents are not in mortal danger. Make choices based on these things. Remember that this is a duty first and foremost. Your feelings will shift and change thousands of times over the course of your long marriage, but your duty is constant.
Western Legion Commander Mountain Strong on Legionnaire Reproductive Duty
Coal Grey ran a hoof over his mane, brushing back what he knew were stray locks of unruly, white hair. He should have brought a comb after all. All his life he had never gotten his mane to lie still. It wasn't going to start now. He tugged lightly on the sleeves of his overcoat, straightening out any creases, even though he hadn't seen any since the last time he did this. He shot his cuffs, just to be sure. A sniff to his chest and front fetlocks determined that his choice of cologne was not overpowering.
He looked around the restaurant. It had been half an hour since he arrived here, and the mare he was supposed to meet was not in sight.
To be fair, he had arrived an hour earlier than the appointed time.
The glass of wine on his table remained untouched. He never drank to begin with, considering any alteration of one's senses to be a breach of discipline. He didn't even like stimulants. The wine was complimentary, though. He had never heard of such a thing. Perhaps, it was common for these types of restaurants. The staff must be expecting him to spend a great deal. Or they expected an inebriated pony to be more free with his money. On any other day, he would have had no trouble disappointing them. Today, however, he was going flaunt his finances. That was to be expected too. He had to prove that he was a capable provider after all.
He let out a brief exhale of relief when a young unicorn mare crossed the oaken double doors of the restaurant's entrance. A light pink coat, a long, wavy mane of red, and hazel eyes that bordered on gold. This had to be Cinder Spark, his partner for the day...and quite possibly the rest of his life. She only need a quick, cursory look across the restaurant to spot him. He did a little wave of his foreleg, and put on a slight smile, just enough to show he was pleased that she had shown up without making it seem he was desperate. She replied with one of her own, then walked over.
"You must be Coal Grey," she said. She dipped her head briefly. "My name is Cinder Spark."
"A pleasure to meet you," Coal replied. He gestured to the waiter once she sat down. They were examining menus in short order. As soon as the waiter had departed with their orders, Coal cast about his mind for his mental list on what to do here. He had never attempted to woo any mare throughout his entire life, not counting an incident when he was a colt involving a bouquet of daffodils, a neighbor, and a nest of hornets. 'Compliment on outward appearance,' his own voice told him in his head. 'Add something specific!'
"You look very lovely," Coal said. He hoped that didn't sound perverted or too generic. He meant it too. Her colors radiated warmth, like a cozy fireplace during the thick of winter. She had a nice figure; slim, athletic, with a sinewy neck and firm muscle tones along her legs. To be expected, he supposed. Fort Commander Forge Spark would be concerned for his daughter's physical prowess. She smelled nice too; just a hint of Ylang Ylang.
'Something specific!' Coal's mind yelled at him. He paused for a second. He obviously couldn't say all of those things he observed earlier without sounding like a pervert. Her outfit then; long flowing red dress, a bold color, but quite conservative with the skirt length and cut embellished with gold accents along the neckline and sleeves, and...oh, he found his entry point.
"That's a beautiful neck piece too," Coal said, letting his gaze focus on the gold-chained pendant she wore. The platinum gilded, heart-shaped ruby caught the firelight in the restaurant just right, letting it glitter like a miniature setting sun.
She blushed at this and looked away briefly. "Thank you," she said. "You are quite handsome as well. My father has said a lot of good things about you, but I'm surprised now that he didn't mention looks."
One would think that having Forge Spark's approval and recommendations would make this easier, but they served more to weigh on Coal's shoulders than anything else. "The Fort Commander is too kind," he replied. He stopped himself from awkwardly scratching the back of his head.
Cinder Spark leaned forward slightly, her muzzle tilted low, but her eyes looking up with interest. Coal may have had little experience with mares, but he could tell when he was being sized up. "You must be very loyal to him if he wants you to be part of his family, and you did risk your life save him from the ursans. I know he must have thanked you repeatedly, but I want to thank you as well."
Coal cleared his throat. "Any legionnaire would have done the same for the Fort Commander," he said. "I was merely at the right place and time." Their food arrived, and the next few moments went to savoring their meals. Coal was happy to shift conversation away from fights by getting her to talk about herself.
Cinder ran a small clinic in the village of Moon Basin, near Mount Moaning Top itself. It was an isolated practice, still in her father's jurisdiction, as far as the Legion could involve itself with civilians, but in a place where her father's influence meant little. Coal could respect that, and it was clear that it was a challenge she deliberately sought. She had graduated with high honors from the Arcanis Atheneum with a major in Conjuration School. That sort of qualification could have landed her in far more prestigious professions.
Of course, Coal already knew most of these things. They were in the notes her father gave him. To hear it from her, however, still felt oddly satisfying.
"I prefer the quiet," Cinder replied when Coal mentioned her overqualification. "When I was still in the Atheneum, I had thought of joining the Legion, but the long hours of quiet study were too good to give up. I can't imagine fitting in a tight, Legion-dictated schedule."
"True, the unicorn magi do have it rough," Coal said in between bites. This wasn't so bad; both the meal and conversation.
"What about you, Coal?" Cinder asked. "Why the Legion? The Western Legion has earth ponies as skirmishers. It must be terrifying to be at ground level and close with the ursans."
Coal shrugged. He did remember his first ursan charge; the smell of fear, which was just as pungent as the smell of urine that had trickled down his hind legs. There was sudden movement, as if he had been struck by lightning, and the jolt moved his body for him. The spray of thick gobs of hot, stinking blood that half-blinded him when his spear found a gap between armor plates. "You get used to it," he said. "It's all isolated cases of trespassing or small bands. It's been a long time since Equestria's seen an extermination campaign."
"But was it something you wanted to do?" Cinder asked. She was getting a bit intense now. The mood made her already brilliant eyes seem more like embers. It was charming and discomfiting all at once, like a pretty fireball exploding just a little too close. "Something you dreamed of as a colt, and pursued the best you can?"
"Yes," Coal said. "My father is a renowned lancer. So was my grandfather. I may have been born an earth pony, but I grew up dreaming of joining them in the Legion's service."
Cinder pressed her lips tightly, picking at the last few morsels of her meal. "It must be nice..." she said, "to find such alignment between your duties and wants."
"It has been a blessing," Coal replied. He frowned out of concern, though. "Is something the matter? If something about the Legion offends you, I didn't mean to pick at wounds."
Cinder's eyes widened. "Oh, no!" she quickly said. "I didn't mean that! I admire the Legion and the work it does..." Her face dimmed again. "I'm sorry, Mister Grey, I should just come out and say it."
"Coal is fine," Coal replied with a brief raise of his hoof.
"I..." Cinder let out a sigh, and ran a hoof down her mane. "I cannot pursue this arrangement."
Coal stared on blankly. Did she just say that? Was that even possible? "Pardon?" he asked.
"I'm sorry," Cinder said, tapping her front hooves together nervously. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could have just informed you of this before we even met here, but my father...I can't..."
"Why can't you pursue this arrangement?" Coal asked. His mind naturally went through reasons he found typical: she was infertile, or had just found out that he was, which would be news to him, some kind of terrible, highly communicable disease...
"I love somepony else," Cinder Spark said.
Well, that certainly simplified things. Coal felt an obligation to be outraged, he didn't really feel any. "I see..." he said. "Does the Fort Commander know of this? He might be more reasonsble than you—"
"He will not approve of her," Cinder Spark said softly.
"Oh...." Coal kept his mouth open, expecting more words to follow that, but none did. He didn't know Forge Spark's stance on those matters. He best deferred to the daughter.
"I beg you, please understand," Cinder went on, clasping his hoof between hers. "We plan on moving away, but it's not right to string along a good legionnaire in the process. My father will ask questions..."
"And you wish for me to help you," Coal said.
"I...yes..."
This was likely a terrible idea. Coal had advanced quite well through the ranks. That was why he was even in this position. If he was caught complicit in this, he would make quite an enemy in Forge Spark. And what would he gain in return? The gratitude of a pair of mares that would spend a good number of years on the run? They'd probably forget about him as soon as they thought they escaped. He certainly didn't want a marriage steeped in resentment, though. It was a nice thought; aiding love.
"Alright," Coal said. "I'll play along. For how long?"
Cinder's face brightened, putting the fireplace in the restaurant to shame. "Only until the Moonlight Rondo's Moaning Top Festival. I promise we'll be long gone after that."
Coal nodded. That was doable enough. The festival was in a week.
"Thank you so much," Cinder Spark said. "You won't regret this."
"She was clam-masher?" Plowshare asked incredulously , his lips split into a wide grin that swiftly crumbled into a long series of guffaws. "Celestia's Fleas, Coal, that is some amazing turn of luck! That's going to be a strange marriage."
It was an unusually happy and relieved Plowshare that slurped down the last of his potato stew, bringing down the wooden bowl against the table with a loud bang. That should have earned a little reprimand about damaging eating utensils, or the new Skirmisher Captain’s table.
Coal didn't bother. Plow was just excitable, that was all, and it was really his fault for inviting him to eat dinner in his quarters anyway, as opposed to the mess hall. He picked up the raisin bread next to him, and took a large bite. "You don't need to be so vulgar about it," he said. He was glad to be out of the suit. It was a little too tight and had started to itch once he got a sweat on. He was still getting used to the private quarters thing what with his promotion just a week ago. "And I'm not going to pursue the marriage," he added.
Plowshare raised an eyebrow. He still had half a grin on, but those light brown eyes were serious. Plow was the very picture of boisterous bruiser; a big, corn yellow earth pony from a small farming village eager to take a blade or a spear to some ursans. He had a dark brown mane, cut into boyish, short curls that hugged his hide closely. Past that image, however, he could be serious and intense as he pleased.
"Why not?" Plow asked. "She's pretty, she's healthy, and she's well connected."
"She prefers mares," Coal replied. "A mare."
"So?" Plow asked with a shrug. "What does she want? Put you in a wig or something? She's had her fun, time to get serious." At the sight of Coal's stubborn look, he went on. "This is ridiculous. You'll destroy a contract, and mess with the Legionnaire Reproductive Directive over what? Preferences? That's ridiculous!"
Coal thought back to his talk with Cinder Spark. "Don't you think one's preferences count for anything?" he asked.
Oh, it's preferences, is it?" Plow went on. "I prefer not to die from an ursan mauling, but I still have to charge them when commanded. I prefer to be handsome and dashing," he pointed at his scarred cheeks and misshapen ears, "instead of being ugly. And I prefer a tasty cheesecake for dessert, but here I am with day-old raisin bread. But, I guess your Cinder Spark is just that special, isn't she?"
Coal sighed. "I told you because I know this will stay safe with you, Plow," he said.
"Of course it is," Plowshare groused. "We're comrades, and we support one another." His eyebrows furrowed. "Even though I feel that it's stupid that you'll pick supporting this nonsense over your duty, I'll do as a comrade does. Did you notice that? Doing despite feeling. Your clam-mashing friend should take notes."
"Thanks," Coal said.
"So the other mare must be with the Rondo, right?" Plow asked. "She has to be if they have to wait for the festival." He tapped his broad chin with a hoof. "Those Rondo ponies are crazy. They probably do worse things to each other than mash clams."
"I don't want to know," Coal replied. "Once the Rondo finishes up, I'll be glad to put this behind me."
"Did I hear somepony mention the Moonlight Rondo?" came a voice. The door opened, the knob glowing blue with telekinesis.
Both skirmishers froze, then watched warily. By the doorway was Director Chill Gaze, ice blue eyes in a piercing stare while his magecoat billowed behind him. He had the white coat and dark blue mane to go with his namesake. His visible cheekbones and deep eyesockets only made him even more unsettling.
"Just idle talk," Coal said with marked respect, but not deference. As Skirmisher Captain, he held equal rank with Chill Gaze. The lesser ranked Plowshare wisely stayed silent.
"The Rondo is a gathering of degenerates," Chill Gaze said. "Reprobates and perverts clinging on to Princess of the Moon after she long abandoned us. This coming festival of theirs is a poor use of Mount Moaning Top. I hope they give us an excuse to aim our arrays their way."
"Is there something you need, Director?" Coal asked. "We're eating here."
"Just here to offer my congratulations on your recent engagement, Skirmisher Captain," Chill Gaze replied. "Your star is on the rise. I thought it prudent to show respect. I'm also here with your unit's assignment. You are to be stationed by Mount Moaning Top during their orgy. There are rumors that there are ophidites in the area." With that, and a bow, Chill Gaze backed out of the room, and closed the door.
"Damn drill-head always creeps me out," Plowshare muttered. "He looks like he flew out of a ghost story."
"He does his job well, though," Coal said with a sigh. "We can't complain." He focused on the task just given. Just his luck to be involved with the Moonlight Rondo. Between this matter and dealing with possible Imperial agents, he was in for a rough night next week.