Iron Quill woke without his extremities buzzing and without a headache. He sat up, cleaned without interruption, then dressed in the underclothes he'd worn under his armor for half a lifetime.
He exited the tent, nodding once to Chain Mail beside it. "Excuse me," he said. "Chain Mail. Have there been… reports, since your watch began?"
"A few," he answered, saluting. "What do you wish to know, Lord Commander?"
"Have there been any more deaths? Children and foals among the camp followers would be the most likely candidates. I'm sure you would've heard about it from our, uh… our new recruits."
"No sir," Chain Mail answered. "No dead that I've heard of. Cozen has appointed ponies to change the salt in the toxin pool, and has begun storing what remains. The only other news that anypony speaks of is your, uh… your death tonight, sir."
"At the hooves of Permafrost," he finished. "The arena is finished, then?"
Chain Mail nodded. "You need not do it, sir. We know you can't fight. The other stallions and I would fight to the last."
"I know." He returned the salute. "But you're wrong. I do have to. Our princess hasn't ruled this army with reason and persuasion, she ruled it with blood. If I'm to take it for myself, I must do so with blood. It is that, or surrender to Permafrost, and depend on his mercies not to get everypony killed."
"Will he, sir?"
Quill nodded. "If he had worn this crown, you would've died a week ago. The others too." He walked away, leaving Chain Mail at his post. He grabbed a bowl of porridge from the mess tent, then wandered to the edge of camp where he heard the most noise.
Sure enough, an arena had gone up. It wasn't nearly as grand as anything in Harmony or Luna Bay, with their expansive pavilions and floor that could be flooded for naval battles. Permafrost’s soldiers might not understand the gravity of their situation, but they sure knew how to dig a hole. Benches ran around the arena three levels high, though some cheating had been involved. Stone was cut to form the lower seats and the arena floor, and that stone was used to form the higher seats, as well as a ring of seven pillars around the arena. Soldiers and camp attendants from all the other companies were already gathering there, along with food vendors from the camp followers. Music played, and ponies sang.
"They don't know to be grateful for their lives," Nightmare Moon said from behind him.
Quill jumped, but he didn't turn around. She would expect more dignity from him. Besides—he knew how to cope with surprises by now. This wasn't worse than anything else that had happened in the last two weeks.
Nightmare Moon wore only her regalia, and a somber expression. Where had this pony been during the campaign? We wouldn't have left such a bloody trail all the way to the capital with her leading us. "I have examined the air in ways you couldn't understand—your process worked. Even as we speak, the air we breathe is scrubbed of CO2. So long as our mineral supplies persist, my army survives. You have given me a second miracle, Lord Commander."
He couldn't meet her eyes. "We aren't finished yet. There were two problems you spoke of, I remember. Oxygen must be replaced even as the poison is removed. But we already have a method for that. Sylvan and Cozen have a…"
Nightmare Moon's eyes grew suddenly harsh. "We will see if you live long enough to enact it. There is another obstacle before you, no less pressing than those two you have solved thus far. You cannot flee from this battle now."
"I never intended to flee," he whispered. "Permafrost is the best and most respected of any of the captains. When he falls, I will have his soldiers, and the other captains will know to obey.
"What about returning to Equestria, Princess? I know how badly you want your revenge. Why would you allow a duel that could kill one of your best surviving tacticians? You'll need Permafrost for your revenge, won't you?"
The Alicorn didn't respond right away, seeming to deflate a little at his words. She lowered her voice, quiet enough that only his oversized bat ears let him hear at all. "How much do you know about the Elements of Harmony?"
He matched her volume. "I know they were created by the missing Pillars of Equestria. Imbued artifacts, three you carried and three wielded by your—" He stopped abruptly at her harsh glare. "Three wielded by the Sun Tyrant."
"No more," she said. "I lost the use of them after… certain arrangements were made."
You mean they rejected your bargain with a demon. What a surprise.
"Celestia turned them against us. That is how we were banished so thoroughly. I have probed and prodded at the lock wrapped around the Moon, but so far it is impregnable. We can teleport anywhere on its surface we wish, but not back to Equestria."
"We could fly back."
Nightmare Moon threw her head back, laughing so loudly that creatures from the arena turned to stare, and laborers in his camp lowered their heads to cower before her. She kept going for almost a minute before she finally relaxed. "Iron Quill… if you survive tonight, please continue to make absurd suggestions in plain language. I haven't had cause to smile in long enough that… no, you know exactly how long."
He nodded. Maybe he should've been upset with her, but for a few moments, his princess actually seemed happy about something. That was worth a little mockery. "Are you going to explain what was so funny about that?"
"No," she said. "Know that it is impossible, Iron Quill. Not in the way that can be overcome by resourceful use of unicorns from outside the camp, either. Physical travel between Equestria and the Moon was not known even to Carcosa, in the days before the Fall. Do not waste your effort on rediscovering it here. Our only hope to see Equestria again is in my power. Are we clear?"
He nodded. There was no mistaking that confidence—it wasn't the tone of a pony who still harbored doubts in this, the Night Princess was absolute. "I understand, Princess. From where I stand, it seems there will be many more miracles before the ponies of this army can sleep soundly."
Nightmare Moon laughed again, though more subdued. "If you think you can. You may not be alive to worry about them tomorrow."
"I don't know," he admitted. "But if you'll excuse me, it isn't nightfall yet. There is still work for me to do."
Iron Quill left the princess where he had found her, returning to his camp and his “company” of recruits. But he wouldn't be mocking them, not after waking normally to a cave that was still breathing. There was a chance he wouldn't be when night came, and there were a few more arrangements he needed to make with his ponies first.
He called them all to his command tent, Silver Needle and Sylvan Shade and Cozen, along with a handful of the other ponies who had impressed him so far. No more captains, though Penumbra was there, along with Chain Mail to represent his old guard. Even among ponies who had trusted him for so long, he could see doubt and confusion. Silver's camp had been almost empty, and now…
"I know you don't know why you're here," Quill said. "Maybe not all of you. But we can't keep existing as several disparate units. We have to somehow build a single company out of… the wave of new recruits."
"A company," Chain Mail repeated. He glanced once towards Cozen, but clearly didn't care about her glares. "Each of us owes you a debt, Quill. Our old squads are dead, but that doesn't mean we agree with this."
"I know," he answered, cutting off Cozen before she could even begin. "But there's something each of you need to know. I want your oath to me that it doesn't leave this tent, are we clear? And before you answer…" He glanced to the side. "Penumbra, if anypony here breaks their oath, kill them."
Penumbra didn't have a seat at the table, but now she stepped up beside him, drawing a dagger from her belt and tossing it casually into the wood. A blade of solid darkness sunk deep, little wisps of shadow rising from around it. "As you command, Lord Commander."
He looked back up. "And now you know what you're promising. If I can't trust you, walk out."
A few of them did—two of the circus ponies, and a laborer whose name he didn't remember who had helped carve most of the air troughs. He waited for them to go before going around the circle, getting a promise from each pony in turn before he continued.
"I have spoken with our princess. I don't believe we will be returning anytime soon. I think it may take her more than one pony lifetime to break the spell trapping us here. We will never see Equestria again."
All the muttering and angry glances at the table stopped abruptly. Cozen stared down at her hooves, Chain Mail's face hardened, Sylvan began pacing back and forth behind his chair.
"Each of the other companies acts like this banishment is something temporary—Nightmare Moon doesn't think it is. I think our grandchildren will be the ones who return to Equestria to exact our revenge."
"So why bother?" Cozen asked, voice bleak. "Why are we even trying?"
"Do you want to die comfortably in your bed fifty years from now, or coughing up blood in the dirt?" Silver asked.
Silence returned, and Quill let it linger. Maybe now they would understand the gravity of their task. "If Permafrost wins tonight, your problems won't last long. He'll get everypony killed, and that will be that. But if I win, I need each of you to settle in. I know what it takes to keep an army supplied. Silver does too, I think she's learned tremendously well. Every option that was once open to us in Equestria is now closed. We can't negotiate with farmers, or rob them. We can't trade with Griffonstone or Mt. Aris's navy. There are no deer, yaks, or bison to supply us when Equestria cuts us off. We're alone. Everything this army needs must be found, made, or maintained on the moon. What does that mean?"
"Food?" Cozen suggested. "There's no salt in the world that can convert sand into rice."
"Actually, in theory—" Sylvan interrupted, but fell silent at Quill's glare. He nodded towards Silver again.
"We expected the Castle of the Two Sisters to resist our siege all the way to winter and beyond. With careful rationing, I believe we can last five months."
"It's just one execution to the next," Cozen whispered.
"No." Quill glared. "The size of the difficulties before us makes them appear monumental, but only when you see them all at once. Until we are stable, we will face each as they come. We now know how to remove poison. This is a good start, but it’s only the beginning. We must take that knowledge, and replace the good in what was taken. Our princess suggested we had longer for that. But we’ve already been here a week, so we can’t take it for granted that we have unlimited time.”
He turned towards Cozen and Sylvan again. “That model you built with lightning—I want one of those, large enough to produce air for all. Silver, furnish them with supplies as they require. Nothing is more important than breathing.”
“Maybe not yet,” Chain Mail whispered. “But Lord Commander, it’s getting colder. Do you feel it? The chill seeps in further every day. How cold is it up there?”
“When I was with the princess, I asked her that,” Cozen said. “She said that now that night has come at last, it is ‘colder than the peak of the tallest mountain, or the remotest depths of the ocean.’”
“We’re underground,” Quill said. “Maybe that will keep us warm enough until the sun returns. I don’t know. She said it would be two weeks of sun, followed by weeks of darkness. We need to be able to breathe to find out.” He gestured to one side. “Silver, add the heat to a running figure of potential dangers.”
She nodded, removing a scroll and quill and scribbling on them with her magic. “If I do, Lord Commander, I should add light as well. Our supply of glowstone is finite, and our oil is already running low. We used much of it to melt the ice.”
“Fine,” he said. “And add water to the list, while we’re at it. We will need a steady supply for the conversion to air anyway.”
“There may be a way to capture heat during the sun, and retain it when darkness comes,” Sylvan muttered. “Metals absorb it differently, and something could probably be done with glass and mirrors. The sand here would probably make good glass if we could find the right flux.”
“Later,” Quill said, raising his voice just a little. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Sylvan. Just remember we need air first. For now… buck, what I wouldn’t give for a dragon.”
“Dracaris died at Sun River,” Chain Mail said quietly. “He isn’t here anymore, sir.”
“I know.” He stood straighter. “Go on then, you three. This army requires air. Give it to them.” He watched as they left—Sylvan eager to get started, Cozen’s expression still downcast. Silver was impossible to read. But she would follow his orders. All these ponies would, now that they understood what was at stake.
“What about us?” Chain Mail asked, as soon as the scientific ponies were gone. “We’re just soldiers, Lord Commander. There’s little my stallions can offer. We aren’t trained to understand… alchemy and magic.”
“I know. But your mission is just as important.” He glanced briefly out the open tent door. “I’ve given you an impossible task. There’s a reason none of these ponies were recruited. I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m sure you have a reason,” Chain Mail said, though his tone didn’t suggest he believed it.
“I do.” Quill leaned closer to him. “I had Silver Needle choose the strongest and most capable-looking from the recruits to assign to you. They aren’t going to be your cooks and support staff, you already have those. I want them trained.”
Chain Mail stiffened. “I got the list this morning. Two hundred fifty ponies in all, greener than the worst fifth-son of a landed mare you ever sent me.”
“They aren’t going to be fighting a siege,” Quill went on. “They don’t need to hold against the Solar Legion. I’m looking for police. This cave… the longer we’re stuck here without fighting, the more it transforms into a prison. There’s only so many times a soldier on half pay can go drinking and whoring before he wants to get back to killing.”
“You took away half the whores. I believe I saw some of their names on my roster,” Chain Mail muttered darkly.
“Precisely. These ponies are going to be a peacekeeping force. I want them trained to stop a mob, to fight unarmed ponies acting rough, or put down a soldier who has gone out of line. That’s what I need from them.”
“Sure,” Chain Mail said. “I was wrong to think we were better off than those alchemists and scholars. You want all of us spinning shit into gold.”
This time Iron Quill laughed along. “Unfortunately true,” he agreed. “And no less for me. I still need to defeat a stallion half my age after spending two decades without a sword in my hooves. With… the whole army watching.”
“I wouldn’t trade with you,” Chain Mail said, rising with one final salute. “I’ll do my best, sir. I can’t promise your orders even can be followed. But I’ll tell you after we’ve already tried.” He left too, hurrying from the tent.
Leaving Quill alone with Penumbra. She made her way to the edge of the tent, twisting the flaps closed with a tight knot before removing the wraps from her face. “You know, there is a way you can win this fight. Something Permafrost won’t be expecting.”
Quill looked back to his table, and the ledgers there. Silver Needle had left him an inventory report, frighteningly empty in most respects. He pushed it aside. The realities on that page were not going to make this duel easier. “I know what you’ll suggest, Penumbra. I can’t.”
“You can,” she whispered, just beside him. All her cynicism and mockery were gone, all her skepticisms and disdain for him. “Princess Luna chose you for this. If you die with Permafrost’s sword in your gut, then the army will die with you. I don’t want to be alone with the princess for the rest of time.”
“You don’t want to…” He trailed off, shaking his head dismissively. There were secrets there, weight to her words that he’d never guessed at before. The Voidseekers had always been more forthright with the Lord Commander, he knew that. But he still felt like even hearing them was forbidden. Punishment could only be seconds away.
It didn’t come.
“I know the power Nightmare promises, Penumbra. But I know the price he asks.” His eyes glazed over, and he saw backward through the mist of time to better days. He saw the face of a princess who believed she was breaking the wheel that ground ponies down to dust. He didn’t think there was much left of that pony anymore.
“Isn’t that price worth paying?” She was in his face, shoving him away from the table. “I need you to live through this, Quill! You can’t make up for a life cooped up in monasteries, but you can get an edge. I know you’ve been through the Hvergelmir. Shouldn’t Nightmare Moon’s lord commander have Nightmare’s power too?”
He shook his head again, more reserved this time. Now he knew the expression he’d seen in those eyes—he’d been wrong to assume he’d never see a mare look at him that way again. He was old… but Penumbra was the oldest of the Voidseekers, wasn’t she? Her youth was part of the magic. “If I win tonight… I want you never to ask me to do this again.”
“WHY?” There was no way her voice wasn’t carrying through half the camp by now. “WHAT GOOD DOES DYING FOR YOUR DEAD RELIGION DO?!”
He met her eyes without blinking. The waves of darkness radiating up from her mane didn’t frighten him, even though he knew how easy it would be for her to kill him. Penumbra wasn’t just the oldest of the Voidseekers, she was the best of them too. “How much do you know about the last rebellion?”
His words had the desired effect. “What?” Penumbra retreated a step, the darkness from her mane fading and light blue returning. “What are you talking about?”
Quill sat down, wishing he had the armor to hide in. The Lord Commander’s diadem was little shield for him now. “Princess Luna wasn’t the first rebel in Equestria’s history. There was a city called Rockroost—an ancient Griffon colony.”
“This isn’t going to save you in the arena tomorrow,” Penumbra barked, voice harsh. “Permafrost doesn’t care about your knowledge of history. You can’t talk him out of killing you.”
He went on, ignoring her. “Princess Celestia sent her best negotiators to ease tensions and prevent a war. Among them were two ponies I knew… Pensive Gale, and Amaranth Gale, landed wife and heir of Cloudsdale. King Grover wasn’t impressed with their offer, and he had the diplomats… executed. Their bodies were hung on the city walls, as a warning to Equestria.”
Penumbra froze. Whatever rude thing she’d been about to say waited. Maybe she could sense the agony he felt.
“They’re waiting for me, in the Elysian fields,” Iron Quill went on. “But Nightmare’s oath includes a promise of service after your death. If they can wait for me… I can go to them.” He turned away from her, drying his face with a wing. He cleared his throat, straightened, and turned again.
“I’m sorry for what you’ve lost, Quill,” Penumbra whispered, resting one wing on his shoulder. “But superstition won’t bring them back. I’ve been through the Hvergelmir. There’s nothing on the other side of death but an endless oblivion. You aren’t being loyal to those ponies by dying for them and taking the whole army with you.”
“I won’t die today.” Quill turned his back on her, reaching the tent’s exit and untying the knot. “Before the duel, go to my historians. Ask them what happened after Rockroost killed our envoys. Ask them about Sun River.” He felt her pained eyes on his back as he left, along with the sniff of tears.
Apparently the stories were wrong about Voidseekers. They could feel after all.
Iron Quill heard the drums as he approached the arena, echoing through the camp and around him from all sides. Quill didn’t know where ponies could’ve gone to find zebra drums to beat for the occasion—but he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was an occasion, and all the Lunar Army had come to see.
Ponies hadn’t just packed every seat, but those without the honor to warrant one filled the land all around, occasionally flapping up to catch a glance at what was inside.
Quill met Chain Mail and his troops beside the far entrance, removing his borrowed helmet to get a better look at the cave past the torches and flames.
Penumbra didn’t come.
“I think they’re waiting for you in there, sir,” Chain Mail said. “Permafrost is already speaking.”
His voice didn’t carry as well through the crowd—he’d only ever been a captain before the battle killed his predecessor. But that wouldn’t matter if Quill never went inside. He might lose his chance to secure the troops before it even began.
“This is the cowardice we can expect from an army ruled by scholars and mares! Should we be surprised the one given the costume of a captain to wear would turn around and try to do the same to other ponies? When this is over, I will put this army back in order. Our new world is hostile, too much to afford waste!” And on, and on.
“They are.” Quill nodded to Chain Mail. “Clear a path. Let’s go.”
They walked into the arena, under the chorus of Permafrost’s promises of a better army under his rule. Ponies stomped and cheered—mostly from his half of the arena.
Then Quill passed through an opening in the arena seats, and got a good look at what was inside. Huge bonfires burned on the inside, made from the wood of broken siege engines. Permafrost stood in the center, his own helmet off. There was something strange about his mane, though Quill couldn’t immediately identify it.
His eyes were mostly for the princess, who sat at the highest level at the center of the arena. All around her were the Voidseekers, keeping the crowd well back. Penumbra was there in the lowest row, her face concealed in dark armor just like all the others. She didn’t even seem to be looking at him as he came into the arena.
His soldiers stopped at the edge of the circle, and Quill crossed the dusty ground alone. He passed the bonfire, wincing at the line of smoke rising from it. We need to melt ice to drink, and we waste fuel on this. Where does Permafrost plan on getting wood when he finishes burning what we brought?
He already knew the answer, of course. Permafrost hadn’t been stuck as a captain for no reason. If he’d known what supplying an army meant, he could’ve been a better officer.
“Here he is!” Permafrost yelled, his voice echoing from the ceiling high above. “Captain of whores and laborers! The captain of scrolls and quills! His method of rule is over.”
Ponies on the edge of the circle booed and hissed as Quill passed them. But he ignored them. Ignored them until he was beside Permafrost in the center of the circle. “Are you done?”
The other pony turned to face him, grinning wickedly. Why did his presence feel so… dark? Quill met his eyes for a second, then felt the twisting in his gut of dark magic fresh on the air. He watched the blurring at the edges of Permafrost’s mane.
His eyes went wide. Stars above. Penumbra thought Permafrost would never have guessed he would make this choice—but she’d been wrong. Permafrost beat him to it.
The other bat pony smiled at him. “I am finished.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, far below anything even the listening bats all around them could hear. “Have no fear for the army when you’re gone, Quill. I have a plan for preserving these ponies against the darkness here. There are a thousand others among the princess’s first who haven’t taken the oath yet. Far fewer than we would like to retake Equestria… but I’ve heard that the Voidseekers fight like ten stallions each.”
Quill finally looked away from him. “You shouldn’t have, Permafrost. The road you’re walking now… I’ve seen where it leads. You’ve seen where it leads. Look what happened to our princess… does she look happy to you?”
“And now the treason begins, Quill? Is that it?” He laughed, grinning wicked fangs at him. “I should thank you. You were the one who inspired me, turning your pet against my Indigo guard. I’ve replaced all of them with others who have taken the oath. A few years from now, they’ll all be Voidseekers. And you will be ashes.”
His face twisted, briefly contorting with pain. He spoke again, a chorus of two voices overlapping. “Long have you refused me, Gale. Surrender to me, and I will grant you your life in service.”
“It’s not mine to swear anymore,” he whispered, turning his back on the demon-possessed captain. He took off into the air, lifting the metal-banded horn from his belt and blowing it with four, short blasts. The Lord Commander’s horn shook the whole cavern, activating instincts drilled into every soldiers over months and years of practice.
It was so loud and unexpected that the army fell silent, shouting and booing and objections all stilled. Iron Quill landed, looking from one face to the next. These might be the last words he ever spoke. “Many of you don’t know the dangers we faced since the Tyrant banished us here. Instead of overcoming those enemies, Captain Permafrost would have those of you who can be transformed, and leave the others dead.
“I know you’re better than that, brothers and sisters. I see your flags—Trottingham company, Skyforge company, every other mare or stallion who believed that Equestria could be better. When this day ends, if I still live, I swear to keep the oaths made to you when you swore to the moon princess. I don’t ask for your souls, or even your lives. Only your trust.”
He landed. There was no applause, not even from his own section. His own laborers and inventory ponies watched with horror on their faces.
“Pointless,” Permafrost said into the silence. “You can promise them whatever you want, Quill. You’re just a scribe. Let this be a lesson to anypony after who thinks they weren’t born into their station.” He lifted his helmet from the dirt, donning it.
Iron Quill did the same, lowering the ill-fitting steel to his head and settling the visor into place.
“I have heard the petitions of my servants!” Nightmare Moon called, her voice echoing through the cavern. “Let the stars above us judge the rightness of their choices by the might of their hooves.”
From around the arena, the drums started to beat.