Big Caramel landed, hard, on what felt like packed dirt. He fought to get back to his hooves and failed.
Canterlot’s takeover had been brutal, he’d heard. Hundreds, maybe thousands (maybe hundreds of thousands, according to some panicked observers) of the Storm King’s shock troops had stormed the pony capital, and banished (or killed? Some observers would swear they saw Twilight Sparkle led off to be beheaded) the Princess of Friendship and the entirety of the Elements of Harmony. The other princesses, their only hope of rescue, had been turned to stone. The pony kingdom, it seemed, had fallen.
The takeover had spread rapidly, something that only a well-trained and precise army could do. It was clear they had done this many times before. Under General Tempest Shadow’s command, the Storm King’s army flooded nearby towns, robbing every village, citadel, even individual farms of their populace. All of them were shackled, chained together and led off to various unknown locations. Ponyville had been no different; they had hoped for a better outcome, since they had a few days to prepare before the shock troops arrived. Many had tried to flee, some had tried to hide, and ultimately almost all of them had been discovered.
Big Caramel had landed in a different place than many of the other ponies of his town. Perhaps because he’d tried to fight, maybe this was a punishment. He was bigger than most of the average townsfolk, so he’d stayed behind, joined the makeshift militia that had formed in the brief days they had before the army arrived. It had been a rout, but of course it would be. They were a group of farmers brandishing pitchforks, and their enemy was an elite group of simians bearing magical weapons. Big Caramel hadn’t expected much different, but he had held out some hope for a surprise arrival of the Elements to push back the invading force. It had happened enough times that Big Caramel was disappointed when it didn’t happen this time.
Back to the current issue, the packed dirt he had landed on. If this was a prison it was a makeshift one, because it seemed to be a simple rectangular wooden pen, like you might find on any of the local farms. It had been thrown together quickly, that was obvious, but any hope of escape was crushed when Big Caramel caught the sound of a magical hum coming from the wooden boards. Of course - they’d enchanted it, probably with those magical sticks they carried. Those things packed a wallop, which Caramel knew firsthoof. It had rendered him barely conscious after just one whack with it, and that’s how he’d ended up here. His ears were still ringing, and his legs felt like jelly, but he forced himself upright at last, trying to gather his bearings.
Other ponies were there; he hadn’t seen him at first, stunned as he was. They stayed near the edges of the pen, eyeing him. They were all large, like he was, hulking and muscular. Mostly stallions, he noted, but there were a few burly mares among their number. Some of them he recognized from the local fairs as farmer ponies. It looked to be a large group, but Caramel realized that was only because of their sizes. There couldn’t be more than ten ponies with him.
“Hello,” Big Caramel offered, cautiously.
“Well,” one particularly burly stallion spoke, walking closer to inspect him, “we were afraid you might be down for the count.” He was large, older; late forties, if Big Caramel had to guess, and somewhere between heavy and muscular. Broad as a barn, with a coarse-ground voice and a dark, dark blue coat. Almost purple, with a mane of light blue and piercing green eyes.
“Ponyville has fallen,” one stallion whispered in a quavery voice, hiding behind the others.
“Burrbarrow will be next,” spoke another, his voice twisted. “My sister lives there. She has foals - they’re so small - what are they going to do to them?”
“What are they going to do to us?” another voice hissed.
“What - what is this place?” Big Caramel asked, talking over the anxious whispers. “Why are we here?”
“Why, lad,” the burly stallion chuckled, in a voice that was anything but happy, “you’ve just joined the Storm King’s workforce. Congratulations.”
“You don’t know that, Jewelcrisp,” a voice snapped, female this time.
“Oh, don’t I?” The pony called Jewelcrisp turned to consider the glaring mare who was nearly as tall as him and just as broad. “I was there when the Crystal Kingdom fell; I already wore one tyrant’s chains. I know what comes next when they separate the strong from the weak.” Big Caramel looked at him a little more closely. Beneath the dust of the pen, he could see the flecks of shimmer that defined him as a crystal pony.
“Wh - what happens to the weak?” asked a tremulous voice - the one from before, Big Caramel noted, the one who was frightened for his sister.
“Shut up!” snapped another voice.
“What happens to the weak?” The first voice repeated his question, but panicked now, rapidly spiraling out of control.
“I don’t know, exactly,” Jewelcrisp admitted at last, frowning towards the group at large. The group quieted their frightened whispers, waiting for his next words. “I wasn’t with them. No one felt like talking about the occupation much, once we were freed. At least, I didn’t.” Jewelcrisp turned away, and his shimmery tail swished as he stared out of the pen, watching their captors. “I know I saw my neighbors after it all happened, though. Before I moved away. Didn’t wanna stay, after all of … that. I’d see them occasionally when I was working.
We’ll be delegated to the brute work. We’ll harvest the food from the fields, plow, harvest the orchards. An army marches on its stomach, after all. And the Storm King’s army looks like it has a mighty appetite. Like a flock of locusts, I expect.”
His voice was cold, hard; it made Big Caramel’s stomach do flip-flops to hear him speak. He followed Jewelcrisp’s gaze and watched the Storm King’s army sitting around a fire, toasting their latest conquest. They were eating from barrels and baskets labeled Apple Family Farms, and Big Caramel’s stomach fell to somewhere beneath his hooves.
A scream tore Big Caramel from his reverie, and his head snapped wildly to and fro, trying to find the source. The other ponies hardly seemed to register the sound.
“You’ll get used to him,” Jewelcrisp snorted, and jerked his head sharply to the right. “That’s our neighbor.”
Slowly, Big Caramel crossed to the right side of the pen.
To the right of their pen stood several other pens; it seemed the army was preparing for a far larger workforce. But the pen directly to their right held only one pony, and he shrieked like a banshee. He was covered in dirt from his ears to his hooves, with dark streaks where his foamy sweat had begun to form into a sort of mud. Beneath the filth was a coat that looked black, but Big Caramel couldn’t be sure. His eyes were rolling, mostly white now, with a mane that was somewhere between a beige and brown. It was hard to get a read on him, and the only certain descriptor that Big Caramel would have given was that he was big, and strong.
He backed himself into a corner with deep, heaving breaths, and took off at a gallop.
“No!” Big Caramel shouted.
The stallion threw himself into the far wall with a whinnying shriek of rage, and was blasted back with almost equivalent force, the magic crackling as the scent of singed fur filled the air. He laid still for a moment, then slowly gathered himself up onto his hooves, legs shaking, as he prepared himself for another run.
“What are you doing, stop!” Big Caramel shouted, tossing his mane in distress. “You’re going to kill yourself!”
“He’s been doing that for days,” Jewelcrisp rumbled, and Big Caramel realized with a little start that he’d come to stand next to him. “He was in with us the first day. Screaming and kicking, couldn’t get a word out of him. Every time the guards brought in new ponies, he’d rush at them - got a wicked bite on one of the apes the first time, that was something to see.” Jewelcrisp gave a dark little chuckle. “They separated him after that.”
“Why is he -” Big Caramel shook his mane again, wincing as the stallion was blasted back in yet another failed run.
“Captivity doesn’t suit some ponies. They crack,” Jewelcrisp replied a little softer, so the other surrounding ponies wouldn’t hear. “Didn’t expect it so soon, but what do I know? I did my best to forget those days, and here I am again. Maybe that’ll be me, in a week or two.”
“A week or - how long will they hold us?” Big Caramel turned to look at Jewelcrisp.
“As long as they need to eat,” Jewelcrisp replied, and the scream of the neighboring stallion cut through his words. “Or until we die.”