Further Tales From Day Court

by Blade Star


Chapter 16 - Aftermath

I found myself standing in one of the main exhibit halls of the Equestrian Royal Museum, the Mecca of art in this world of ponies. It was as if someone combined the National Gallery, The Louvre, the Musee D’Orsay and the Vatican Archives all in one place. With Celestia as its patron, the vast museum, which spanned several buildings in Canterlot’s busy tourist district, houses art from Pre-Equestrian times, all the way up modern day pieces like those created by Spearhead.

You might be surprised to know though, that it also houses a few pieces of human artwork. None of it is the true original of course. Most are reproductions painted by ponies, based upon the copies which came through the rift when it briefly opened. We ended up with quite a decent cross section, from the surrealists to the impressionists. There was even a copy of Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, scaled up at my request. Seriously, don’t waste your time going to see the real deal. It’s absolutely tiny and always swarmed with yammering Chinese tourists with their stupid selfie sticks.

But there was one piece which had almost been refused for display to the public, due to the shocking images it portrayed. And it was this particular painting which, as an art lover myself I had lobbied long and hard to get put on view, I was now standing in front of.

The piece had always held some fascination for me; so beautiful, yet so terrible. I couldn’t help but be reminded that Canterlot had almost looking like that just a few days ago.

I won’t bore you by going over what has been covered a thousand times already, the Storm King attacked Canterlot, Twilight and the others barely escaped, and eventually managed to fight their way back and defeat our new, psychotic foe. What they don’t tell you though, is what happened next. You see, there was the small matter of the traitor in our midst. Tempest Shadow, or Fizzlepop Berrytwist, to use her real name, while forgiven by Twilight, had on formality, been arrested.

I had taken no small amount of pleasure in seeing her properly tried and convicted of treason. Celestia though, had shown her mercy, mistaking her instinct for self-preservation for remorse. Tempest had been exiled from Equestria, but given the task of spreading the magic of friendship, as well as news of the death of the Storm King.

And I say death, rather than defeat with good reason. In the immediate aftermath, while his petrified form was badly cracked, there were concerns that he might be alive in there still. Well, twenty minutes with a jack hammer, courtesy of Discord, soon put those worries to rest. He was never going to be reformed, or stay on the black rock he came from if we let him out. I took no pleasure in it, but there’s only one thing you can do with an enemy who can’t be reasoned with.

But back to Tempest. She was due to be flown to the edge of our borders first thing tomorrow. Canterlot would be glad to see the back of her. Hell, Celestia had done it partly to protect Tempest. Many would have liked to see her dead. It was only Celestia’s authority, and ponies’ respect for it, that stopped them from taking any action. Still, before she went, I wanted a chance to look her in the eye. I wanted to tell that turncoat bitch precisely what I thought of her. Like I’ve said before, I don’t have that strange ability ponies have to just recover from a crisis. I needed catharsis before I can move on.

It was more personal for me than most. Let’s not forget my last job, as a young man. I spent the better part of fifteen years fighting traitors. I spent a good portion of my life fighting outlaws and a rebellion in my homeland. I left that fight not because the cause was wrong in and of itself, but because the banner I followed had ceased to uphold that cause. I may be a man of peace, but I am still a loyalist, and Hell with freeze over before there’s a united Ireland if I have anything to say about it.

But back to the present. I stared up at the mural before me, looking for the cleverly hidden images within, admiring the details and thinking back to the dark days of the 1930’s.

I was startled from my reprieve by the sound of the large, heavy doors behind me opening, and three sets of horseshoes clanking their way across the marble floor. I turned around for a moment to see her being led in. Tempest was being escorted by two guards, both slightly smaller than her. She was tall for a mare, almost as big as Cadence or Shining. She had a hard look in her scarred eye, but I knew that she saw that same look in mine. Her tough solider act didn’t intimidate me. If anything, I found her appearance and her backstory comical, like something a teenager would dream up if they were looking to create a dark and trouble character in a story. The fractured horn, barely anything more than a stump just completed the look. That was the only thing that made her dangerous; unpredictable, and completely undirected magical blasts had been her forte during her brief attack. In hand to hoof though, even at my age, I could still pin her.

Give me a blade and I’d give you a dinner in France.

The two guards led her up to me, stopping a few paces away. She and I found ourselves in something of a staring contest. I’d made no secret of my disgust to her, and despite her own apparent turning to the side of good, and realising just how many terrible things she had done, she didn’t much like it.

Eventually, we both blinked and I turned my attention to the two guards.

“Thank you, gentlecolts,” I said softly, my voice echoing in the large ivory chamber. “That will be all. You can wait outside until we’re finished.” The pair looked at each other.

“With respect, Mr. Owen,” the more senior one said. “Our orders were to stay with the prisoner at all times.”

For a moment, I considered shouting at that, telling them to sod off and do as they were told. But that just a waste of my vocal chords. They were just doing there job after all. And I find being able to intimidate someone into doing as you say without any abject display of might is more effective than some fancy show.

So I just looked him in the eye, and said one word.

“Out.”

He held my gaze for a moment before he broke; a brief, silent battle of wills. After that, he did as he was told, his companion following suit a moment later. I watched both of them to the door. Neither of them turned around. They knew I was watching them. I waited for the door to close shut with a bang that echoed like every other sound did in here. I heard the sound of the door being locked as well. And after a moment of contemplation, I turned to Tempest.

She was a little shorter than me, even with that stupid mohawk mane of hers. No disrespect to Zecora, hers is cool. You could tell from even this distance that she knew how to handle herself. Even as she stood, she was in a ready position, able to leap into combat at a moment’s notice.

I was doing the same thing. Nothing fancy, none of that karate nonsense. But I’d moved my feet to be at a right angle, and turned my body slightly sideways to face her. It makes you more stable if someone tries to push or punch you.

Once again, our eyes locked for a moment. This time, I allowed her a small victory as I smiled at her, before turning and gesturing towards the huge mural that adorned the wall next to us.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” I offered, in a low, soft voice. She turned to look, considering for a moment. “Incredible beauty, mixed in and made one, with unspeakable horror.”

“Looks like just a lot of shapes to me,” Tempest replied in her own menacing tone. I smiled.

“Yes, well, Picasso never was one to simply mirror the world around him,” I countered.

“What is it supposed to be? Tartarus?” I shook my head.

“No. It’s a little village in Spain, think of the Maredrid region of Equestria, called Guernica.”

Ah yes, one of humanity many, many mistakes. Before the Holocaust, before the famine in Rwanda, and before Guantanamo Bay, there was Guernica. A peaceful little town, used by the Nazis and the Italians to test their new weapons before the Second World War began.

It was at the height of the Spanish Civil War. Communist republicans and fascist nationalists were fighting for control of Spain. The communists, who were at that time the government in Madrid, were backed by the Russians and the famous International Brigades; volunteers from all over the world fighting the menace that was about to overrun Europe. And on the other, you had old Franco, supported by the Nazis and Mussolini. They provided him with ‘volunteers’ in the form on the Condor Legion and opted to throw away the rule book when it came to bombardment from the air.

Guernica was behind the republican lines. All the men had left the town to fight the fascists, and it was now market day. The streets were packed with women and children. And then there was a sound of engines. Then, to quote a poem on the subject; ‘Death came in, like thunder, as they were playing’. The fascists razed the town to the ground, killing hundreds and wounding hundreds more.

Taking a breath, I turned back to Tempest.

“It depicts the town being attacked from the air by a rebel faction. You can see the dying horses and oxen, a women cradling her dead child in her arms.” I pointed out the images, distorted as they were.

Tempest looked at the painting again, now more closely. Eventually, her pony nature began to shine through. While she might style herself as some fierce warrior, she had never killed anyone. I could see the horror in her eyes as she looked at the painted scene before us.

“You seem troubled,” I commented with a sneer. “I’m surprised. After all, you did just the same; attacking a barely defended city, filled with innocent mares and foals. You destroyed their homes, you almost killed a pony, turning them to stone. I’d even say you did far worse. So why does this shock you?”

“I...I...I didn’t,” Tempest muttered, her previous bravado now faltering.

“Oh yes you did!” I replied, rounding on her. “Don’t pretend otherwise, Tempest Shadow! You did just as much as in this painting. You committed an unforgivable crime as far as I’m concerned. You are a traitor, and apparently, also a coward.”

Tempest snorted and turned away from me and began to make for the door. I called after her.

“I wouldn’t waste your time,” I said, raising my voice. “That door doesn’t open unless I want it to.” She spun around to face me, now clearly furious, her stub of a horn sparking like a shorted cable.

“What do you want with me?!” she shouted back.

“I want you to face what you’ve done,” I replied, pointing at the painting again. “I want you to feel guilty. I want you to know the suffering and pain you caused.”

“But why torture me like that?!” she asked, holding back a sob. “Why force me to think about all the things I have done?”

Now, I relented a little. I dropped my aggressive posture, relaxing my shoulders. Walking over to her, I got down on a knee to be closer to her height. It actually let us see eye to eye. Taking off my jacket, I fiddled with cufflink on my shirt, before rolling the sleeve up, exposing my old UVF tattoo.

“So that you never do it again,” I replied softly. “You hang onto that guilt so that, no matter what happens, you never go down that road of anger and revenge. You remember the terrible things you did, the shame, the disgrace. It keeps you honest.” I got back to my feet.

“Don’t think you are alone,” I added, tapping the faded tattoo with my index finger. “Each of us can find a maggot in our past that will easily devour our future. I give you a means to reclaim yours.”

Tempest stood their in silence, contemplating what I’d just said. The two of us are more like one another than I care to admit. When I was her age, I was very dumb and very angry. And, as the saying goes, war is where the young and stupid and tricked by the old and bitter into killing each other. I’d done just as many evil things as she did. Neither of us were, nor would we ever be, good people. But I have to believe that we can still serve a purpose in this world. We’d both been tricked, but we could learn from it, draw on the experience of our mistakes; try to become better for it.

The alternative...well, I considered the alternative before I came over to England. I’d been let out on Long Kesh, thoroughly hating myself. And I’d sat in my bedsit, with a bottle in one hand, trying to drum up the courage to remove myself from this life. I’d not been able to go through with it, and in time, I found a way to at least come close to some form of redemption.

As much as I despised Tempest, I had no desire to kill her to protect Equestria. I would much rather she try to redeem herself with what time she has left.

After a few moments more, I strode over to the double doors that led into the gallery, and banged on it three times with my fist. A moment later, the guards unlocked and opened the doors, rejoining us.

“Go with these guards,” I said calmly to Tempest.

So she rejoined them. The two guards seemed a little surprised at her suddenly subdued nature. I watched her be escorted away. I left her with one final, somewhat more ominous warning.

“Oh and Tempest?” I called after her, prompting the trio to turn around. I gestured to the mural again. “That incident happened almost ninety years ago. I can assure you, if you cross me, you’ll get to see first hoof just what us modern humans are capable of.”


And with that, Tempest Shadow walked out of my life. At least for the foreseeable future at any rate. By this time tomorrow, she’d be somewhere beyond the sea, telling anyone who would listen of the Storm King being turned into a pile of rubble, and how the magic of friendship had saved the ponies he had sought to conquer.

As long as she was out of the country, and as far away from my loved ones as possible, I didn’t mind. I might have encouraged her to seek redemption, but like Starlight, I would never fully trust her. In fact, in the aftermath of the attack on Canterlot, I took to carrying a combat knife at my ankle. The twenty one foot rule applies to magic, just as it does guns, after all.

I spent a little while wandering around the gallery, taking in a few other historical pieces, including a fairly recent one commissioned to mark Luna’s return to Equestria. Eventually though, I had to get back to work. I had two other important jobs to do today, both I was looking forward to for one reason or another, and both ponies in question deserved what they’d be getting, but only one meeting was going to make me happy.

Walking back up the hill to the castle for a change, I marvelled at how little evidence remained of the three days of occupation the city had endured. And on that front, I would like to say that the city and its inhabitants did indeed endure. We might have been down, but we were certainly not out. And I am confident that even if Twilight and the others hadn’t made it back, we’d have been alright in the end.

Why you ask? Well, because of a little idea I suggested to the princesses. The Designated Survivor really paid off in the form of Shining. It all happened an hour or so after things settled and the princesses were released. We were all doing our best to get our bearings, when all of a sudden, the throne room doors burst open and Shining charged in, Flurry Heart riding on his back. He’d brought most of the Crystal Guard with him as a relief column, but his daughter was our best defence.

Apparently, when he realised something was wrong in Canterlot, he’d rallied his men, picked up his daughter, pointed at the now cloud covered city and told her bad creatures had taken her Whammy. She was like the Ark of the Covenant, being carried before the army, her alicorn magic ready to put monkey boy in his place. Remember, things only went south because Tia and the others were caught off guard, and your standard shield spell isn’t airtight.

The other reason though, was that, for the duration of the Friendship Festival, the Royal Guard was stood down, with all its personnel on leave. Courtesy of Mareclellan, now former captain of the Royal Guard. Luna, and Celestia too, had finally run out of patience with him, and relieved him of his command on the spot. Luna took it one step further though, and had his former subordinates put him irons, on a charge of dereliction of duty and cowardice in the face of the enemy. The latter, I may add, in wartime, was a capital offence. He’d been locked up in the castle dungeons for two days, and was now to be brought before myself to determine how proceedings should go, and if a court martial was necessary.

I believe I’ve made my views on Mareclellan clear enough, so I won’t waste time repeating myself. I didn’t feel any hatred for him, as I did with Tempest, but I was going to be glad to see the back of him. Celestia had, at least for the time being, put Flash Magnus in charge, much to her sibling’s delight. I was hopeful that the guard would be whipped into fighting shape within six months.

Anyway, back to the present, Mareclellan wasn’t yet in my office when I got back, so I had some time to look over the official reports and statements taken from fellow officers. There was certainly a good case to be made, but in contrast, a court martial would mean admitting the Royal Guard’s incompetence, and they were already in enough hot water in the mind of the general public over the princesses kidnapping by changelings. So I figured I’d play things by ear.

It was as I was pondering all this that there was a knock at my door.

“Come in!” I called, not getting up from my desk.

The door opened and good old Buttercup stepped in. He had, what I can only describe, as a shit eating grin on his face. Like me, he figured that what was about to happen had been a long time coming.

“Sir, I have a case for you directly from the regimental police,” he said. “An officer of the guard has been found to have breached our code of honour, and is hereby referred by the Provost Sergeant to yourself for judgement.” I nodded, accepting his petition.

“Very well, Lieutenant Buttercup,” I replied, with a smile of my own. “I shall accept the case and deal with it summarily unless matters compel me to refer the case to the Day Court. Have the officer brought in under escort.”

“Yes, sir,” Buttercup answered, before turning back to the doorway. “Bring the prisoner in here.”

A procession of three guards in full dress uniform now marched in single file at the quick march. The ones in the front and rear of the little column had armbands marked ‘RP’ on their right foreleg, to indicate that they belongs to the Provost Sergeant’s detachment. And between them was Captain Mareclellan himself. He looked pretty damn cross about his current situation. As they filed in front of my, the lead guard barked a command.

“Detail, halt!”

All three of the guards stopped in place, stamping the one right foreleg.

“Left turn!”

All three now pivoted to face me, and the two guards in the escort saluted me. I acknowledged them and then turned my attention to Mareclellan.

Now, normally, a hearing like this was a very serious affair. It was my job to determine if firstly there was a case to answer for; had the officer in question broken any of the laws, rules or customs of the Royal Guard. And secondly, if the matter could be dealt with summarily by me, or if a full court martial and enquiry would be needed, putting the case before Celestia or Luna. Instead though, I decided to skim over a few of the formalities. As I said, nopony was looking to make all this official. The words Celestia had used were ‘sacrificial lamb’ I believe. I looked Mareclellan dead in the face.

“Do you want a court martial?” I asked. “Or will you just piss off and give us all a break?”

Mareclellan bristled at my flippant question. He was a poor commander, but a stickler for rules and regulations. He snarled at me for a moment before replying.

“I’ll piss off,” he growled back. “Buck all of you.” I feigned a smile.

“Thank you,” I replied. “Hand in your kit and sign off. I want you out of the gates by noon. Dismissed.”

And so the guard in front called for another left turn and began to quick march them out of my office. At least, they would have done, had the door not suddenly been opened again by a bowing Buttercup. In strode Celestia herself. And let me tell you, she did not look a happy pony princess.

It was already widely known that Luna had had Mareclellan hauled into her chambers, where she had proceeded to verbally eviscerate him and, if rumour is to be believed, had to be restrained from gelding him. While I cannot testify to the latter, everypony in Canterlot had heard her shouting at him.

Having a near immortal alicorn who can move a stellar body on a whim scream at you is terrifying enough. But nothing is scarier than being told off by Celestia. It happened to me once, and it was an experience I’d never care to repeat, nor would any of the other few ponies who have subjected to it. In contrast to her sister, she doesn’t shout or scream. She never even raises her voice. She remains perfectly kind and civil throughout, and that just makes it so much worse. Mareclellan looked terrified, and everypony else, myself included, just thanked their lucky stars that they weren’t the pony she was after.

“Roger,” she said serenely. “Could I use your office to speak with Captain Mareclellan for a moment.” I was on my feet in milliseconds.

“Yes, of course, your majesty,” I replied hurriedly, bowing and fast walking my way out, along with Buttercup and the other two guards.

We were only outside in the hallway for a minute or so, but when Mareclellan and Celestia stepped out, he looked absolutely devastated. I did my best to listen in. All I made out was how he’d ‘put my little ponies in harms way’. Celestia has quite the maternal instinct when it comes to her subjects after all. And judging by his face, I’d say she’d gone full Momma Bear on him. Even worse though, a solitary white feather now adorned the captain’s helmet. The white feather had the same meaning in Equestria as it did in England; the coward’s mark.


Since Mareclellan didn’t contest any of the charges against him, things then moved onto the last bit of humiliation for him; being drummed out. While away from the public eye, the whole guard was assembled for the brief ceremony. A shot across the bows of anypony else who didn’t do their duty to its fullest extent.

Mareclellan was marched onto the castle’s parade square to the beat of single drum. I had my own part to play here as Celestia’s legal representative. I would be the one reading the charge and conducting the proceedings, while both princesses and the assembled guards watched. As the drum stopped, Mareclellan and his little detail came to a halt. I, standing next to the two princesses, opened up a scroll, and read to the assembled crowd from Equestria’s Articles of War.

“Article 10,” I read, my voice echoing across the square. “Every officer, captain and commander in the Guard, who upon signal or order of fight, or sight of any enemy which it may be his duty to engage, or who, upon likelihood of engagement, shall not make the necessary preparations to fight, and shall not in his own person, and according to his place, encourage the inferior officers and men to fight courageously, shall suffer death, or other such punishment as from the nature and degree of the offence a court martial shall deem him to deserve. And if any person in the Guard shall treacherously or cowardly yield or cry for quarter, every person so offending, and being convicted thereof by the sentence of the court martial, shall suffer death.”

Now, obviously, Mareclellan wasn’t going to get a literal axe, one of several reason why he chose to not go before a court martial. He was however, about to be drummed out; dishonourably discharged for dereliction of duty. He was lucky they weren’t tacking on cowardice in the face of the enemy.

Having read out the charge against him. Celestia now spoke.

Captain Mareclellan, for gross dereliction of duty resulting in the temporary capture of the city of Canterlot at the hands of enemy forces, I Princess Celestia, do herby decree that you shall be stripped of your rank and dishonourably discharged from my guard. Have you anything to say?” Mareclellan looked up at her, and held her gaze for a moment.

“No, your highness. I do not,” he replied. Celestia nodded to the detail, one of whom now drew his sword. The drummer now began to play the Rogue’s March. I didn’t envy him of what was about to happen.

The guardsman took his sword and, with great care, cut off the epaulettes, medals, regimental buttons, and other markings that showed him to be an officer of the guard. It was a sort of ritual humiliation, stripping him of everything that marked him as a soldier. With that done, the guardsman turned, not saluting, and marched away. Mareclellan too, turned and walked at a measured pace out of the front gates.

That was very much the end of him. Last I heard, he’d moved to some place near Vanhoover, and lived quietly. Now though the guard needed a new gaffer.

Celestia made her choice on the spot, making Flash Magnus’ promotion official. He was now Captain of the Royal Guard. Master under Celestia and all that jazz. I would find myself getting to know him quite well over the coming weeks.

With the ceremony over, I headed back to my office. There wasn’t too much left to do today, although there was one other event marked in my diary that I was to take part in. It was much more upbeat than the rest of my day had been, and involved giving thanks to a dear friend who had, quite arguably, saved Equestria.

And she always delivered my post on time too.


During the attack on Canterlot, when Twilight and the others were in a fighting retreat to get out of the city, Tempest attempted to trap Twilight in stone as well with one of those infernal obsidian orbs, in order to drain her magic and those of the other princesses, so that the Storm King could power his staff. She was prevented from doing this though, when somepony pushed her out of the way, escaping the gas, and suffering petrification themselves.

That pony was none other than Derpy Hooves. She’d been freed when the Storm King was defeated and Twilight used her magic and those of the princesses to undo all the damage he and his ilk had done to the city, destroying their prison cages, all the obsidian crystals, and returning all those petrified to normal. As far Derpy was concerned, no time had passed, since the effect had rendered her unconscious.

While ponies had gotten over the shock of the attack and the trying three days it took for relief to arrive, there was still need for something of a morale boost, something the media could get behind and run with. And considering the impact of Derpy’s heroic actions, which in effect ensured that events played out the way they did, it seemed only fair that she be properly honoured.

And so, I found myself walking to the new throne room, now once again occupied by its rightful owners. The two princesses you see, formed the ad hoc committee that judged whether or not a pony was worthy of an honour or award. They’d done the same when Starlight and the others helped save the day during the Second Incursion, and for Twilight and her friends when they defeated Discord. The discussion on Derpy had taken less than a minute.

Walking into the throne room, I found an honour guard posted in full dress uniform, who promptly saluted me as I walked in, along with both princesses in their ceremonial regalia. And in the centre of proceedings, was Derpy Hooves, looking bashful as anything. I quickly hurried to Celestia’s side. Once again, I was the apparent master of ceremonies. But as I said before, this was far more pleasant than drumming a pony out.

Things started with a brief speech by Celestia on heroics and bravery. I won’t bore you with the details, although it was very well written. The long and short of it was her describing just how Derpy’s actions constituted as heroic, displaying a gallantry that was never expected of a mailmare. She then went on to say that it was only fair that such bravery be properly recognised and informed Derpy that she was to be given an award.

Now I stepped in, taking a moderately sized box from one of the attendants. Walking over to Derpy, I smiled down at her.

“Derpy Hooves,” I said gladly. “In grateful recognition of your actions during the attack by the Storm King and his army, which ultimately saved the life of Princess Twilight Sparkle, and ensured the liberation of this city from those forces who sought to occupy it, I am pleased to officially induct you into the Most Excellent Order of the Realm of Equestria. Your actions, in the face of the enemy, in view of your status as a non-combatant, were of the highest gallantry, going above and beyond any call of duty, or loyalty to one’s homeland or princesses. Therefore, you are hereby granted the title of Officer of the Realm of Equestria, and you may use the post nominal ORE. Congratulations.”

I shook her hoof, before removing the medal from its box and gently placing it over her head. It was certainly no small achievement for the humble mare. The order was akin to the George Cross back in Britain or Australia’s Bravery Medal. Little Dinky who was standing with several other witnesses, looked pleased as punch to see her mother so recognised. Celestia knows some ponies have given Derpy a hard time in the past. I hoped this all made up for it.

And it made me feel a bit happier too. Unlike ponies, I was still struggling with all that had happened during the attack. I’ve been through worse, sure, but I don’t think we’ve ever come that close to losing. It was luck, the Storm King turning on Tempest, and the fact that his minions, while equipped with shields that could deflect magic, were not so immune to fire from little Spike that had saved us. A lot had gone wrong, and a lot of heads would ultimately roll in the aftermath. And it would also propel a less friendly aspect of ponies, their occasional xenophobia, right to the forefront of the political world.

We’d all suddenly realised that not everywhere was as nice as Equestria and its surrounding lands. There were places without friendship, without harmony, who looked on this land with envious eyes, and had slowly but surely drawn their plans against us. It was a watershed moment that would effect Equestria for quite a few years afterwards.

And I personally would soon find myself dealing with some of the less amicable parts of pony society; those who had decided that if it didn’t have four hooves, a mane and a tail, it shouldn’t be let in. The kind of ponies who talked about fortifying our borders, and who went on long speeches about the dangers of ‘uncivilised creatures’.

It was all cock and bull of course. While we had encountered some less than friendly races, many of them were now our allies, including the griffons, changelings, and dragons. Even the storm creatures themselves were not evil, they were just doing as they were told by a very dangerous warlord. Hell, some of them had even been allowed to join in the Friendship Festival celebrations after everything was all said and done.

But some ponies, and some people I might add, don’t respond to evidence and rational arguments. Instead they just tout their version of the truth as their gospel, encouraging other like minded folks to follow them. And before too long, we would be dealing with a situation that almost pushed us into what could only be described as a world war.