Braeburn stood atop one of the many mesas that overlooked the arid Appleoosan landscape, a strong desert breeze waved his orange mane and flowed through this yellow coat. Summer was almost over and the days didn’t seem as long as before, not that it mattered much in the south. He looked over his hometown. Appleloosa, the former small southern town, was now almost unrecognizable from its former self. The small frontier hamlet had grown exponentially in the last few years. Especially after her secession from the celestial government. Impelled by southern capital, work ethic, self-exiled northern business ponies, as well as mutually beneficial trade deals with Las Pegasus the south and her capital had prospered. He saw her recently erected street laps, beginning to light up in the falling darkness of the evening. At the same time, the supply train that had been delayed at Pinto Creek was finally pulling into the newly enlarged appleoosan train depot.
“That ought to fix the ammunition problem, at least till’ the next couple weeks,” he remarked to himself with a slight chuckle. The still new-looking congress building seemed to shimmer as its dome reflected the fading glow of the sun as twilight began to approach.
“She truly has earned her title” he proudly thought to himself, “the jewel of the South!”.
Slowly, he turned around and began to walk back to what with pride the whole South now called their capital city. His day off had been a welcome reprieve from drilling the newly mustered volunteer units and the mounting tension up north; he wished he could stay admiring the view for longer. However, the way back to army HQ in the center of town was quite a long one, and he had to get up early for what earlier in the day had been described to him by fieldmarshal Neigh as “a meeting of the utmost urgency and importance” the next morning.
As he trotted into the center town, dusk had settled and the clear southern sky was dotted with stars as far as the eye could see. The evening breeze had mellowed, having cooled the temperature of the passing hot summer day. Braeburn approached a small shop, and his head dropped in disappointment as he noticed the bakery’s lights were already off.
“Darn it, I took too long!” he let out in annoyance.
He had planned to visit uncle Evercrisp and buy some pies at his bakery, but the relaxing nature of his countryside excursion had delayed him more than he anticipated. He stopped and stared at the recently hung poster on the glass window illuminated by the glow of the streetlamp behind him, “Before Tyrants, NO SURRENDER!” it read in bold letters on the top. Below, a confederate flag waved defiantly, over a battered trench, rifles and bayonets glistening from its parapets ready to face the foe; “ For freedom and liberty, enlist now!” read on the bottom. The scene was reminiscent of the tenacious and bitter fighting in Las Pegasus. The southern-led allied victory over the changeling southern army group had galvanized the southern ponies and showed Equus and the world the army of the confederacy was not to be trifled with. Yet such things always come at a cost. Besides the poster, behind the shop’s glass window, soberingly hung a blue and red pendant with a lonely gold star. To everypony that passed by, a reminder of the cost of liberty. To Braeburn, a lost family member and friend as well as a testament to the decimated state of the once vast and united Apple clan.
The yellow colt approached the place where the main saloon once stood, five years ago it had been purchased alongside a few surrounding buildings by the then new Neighvis government and rebuilt as the Confederate Army high command. Melancholy and worry once again creeped into his head, the field marshal's words and uncharacteristically worried expression returning to his head, he did not wish to think that conflict and war could come to Equus yet again. Looking up at the sky he recalled how he used to brag that “there were Apple family members all over Equestria, like there are stars across the night sky”. And, though the Sister’s War hadn’t shattered the sky as many had feared at the beginning of hostilities between the two celestial alicorns, it did shatter the pony principality and the Apple clan.
The war between the royal sisters had torn Equestria and by extension Equus asunder, the Apple family, always a microcosm of the nation, went along with it. The eastern coastal cities also seceded, yet they were soon consumed by radicalism. Yanhoover, saw a markcist sailor’s revolution storm into power, placing the former admiral of the Lunar Sea squadron as the “helmspony” of the revolutionary city-state. Meanwhile, the gambling capital of Equestria, Las Pegasus, had consolidated into a bastion of virulent anti-marksism, and right wing-populism were the self-exiled southern baron Rockfeller had managed to gain political supremacy. The south-east had burst into its own inferno of fighting between a mosaic of factions. From royalists adventurers, zealous moonspeakers, war-like natives, unscrupulous mercenaries, fanatical anarchists, and radical marksists. In the end, it was the thestral armies of the ‘Disciples of the Night’ and their unrelenting moonspeakers who carried victory in the blood washed jungles of the south-east; the casualties rivaling those of the ‘main’ fighting up north. Their warrior-priests had marched into socialist Baltimare only a month after the royalist armies of Celestia had taken Manehattan, crushing the rebellion of their northern cousins. For a brief time, Equestria was again at peace but her unity, much like that of the Apple family, seemed severed indefinitely as the once great family was divided along many different loyalties.
After entering the Confederate High Command building, Braeburn quickly passed by the front offices, reported his arrival to the saluting guards, and slowly strutted upstairs to his quarters. As he walked, the former cowpony turned southern general thought of his extended family, and a heavy knot formed in his throat. He had tried to keep in touch with aunt and uncle Orange in Manehattan, but the New Marelander blockade of the Lunar state and later on the cutting off of Lunarist territory from the confederate border had made any correspondence all but impossible. Not to mention the heavy censorship by Nightmaremoon’s authorities. The last he heard of them, uncle Orange had been drafted in one of the final waves of conscriptions and sent to defend Fillydelphia from the advancing Royal Army. He did not return home. On the other hoof, he knew from Applejack's letters that lil’ cousin Babs was at least alive, but that was very much it. It didn’t seem like his younger Manehattan cousin had any interest in contacting the rest of the family, even now.
Even his contact with the once close Ponyville Apples had become tenuous. During sister’s war he had tried to keep in touch with his favorite cousin up north. Yet, following his decision to not join cousin Autumn Glory and uncle Honeygold in the royalist ‘Flanchard Brigades’ going to Equestria to fight, their relation had strained. Though he had agonized over the decision, the pleas of his family and alongside the deradicalizing influence his friendship with the then freshly promoted Fieldmarshall Silverstar, had convinced him to throw in his lot with his homeland. This, as well Braeburn’s role in the brief Second Apple War against the Buffalo and his inaction during the suppression of the radical pro-royalist ‘Equestrian Brotherhood’ had also further placed stress on the relationship. Their friendship seemed to strain and even wither, as his own view on southern independence shifted. Their letters had become more infrequent and they had even argued with each other in their correspondence over the Buffalo reservations, and although they had made up, a lingering feeling of something having been broken remained. Things seemed hopeful however, during the Changeling War they had resumed their letters and even been able to meet a few times, even if it was always more as circumstantial colleagues than close family.
The short peace that followed Celestia’s victory had always been expected to be brief, an Equestrian reconquest of her former territories seemed inevitable. Yet, it wasn’t the Solar Princess’ troops that broke it, but rather the panzer armies of the Changeling Queen. The whole of Equus rallied, all states of the shattered kingdom had to work together or be swept away by the seemingly unstoppable force of the Changeling onslaught. From Staliongrad and her newly conquered northern puppets, to the still rebuilding, young, southern thestral kingdom of Tzinacatlia, all had to work together. The “All Ponies United Front'' under Canterlotian leadership had provided the framework for this. For a time old animosity was replaced by friendship, cooperation, and harmony. The dark horde had made it all the way to the weather city of Cloudsdale before being ground up into a stalemate by fierce Royalist resistance. It was Confederacy however that gave the bugs their first real taste of defeat, standing like a stone wall in the outskirts of Las Pegasus the southern thrust by the Changeling forces to control the vast southern oil fields had been shattered and pushed back along the coast, and slowly out of western Equestria. Victory was costly, many like cousin Fireside never came home, the pendant in his father’s shop was a solemn testament to that fact.
As he entered his dark room, Braeburn let out a deep sigh. As he turned on the light, the dreaded sight of the still unfinished letter to his Ponyville cousins greeted him from his desk. Since the victory over the bugs earlier in the year his correspondence with Applejack had once again petered out. He had been trying to pen that letter for over a month now hoping to once and for all reconnect with them, yet he struggled to get the words out. What should he even say? He wasn’t going to apologize for his role and position in the confederacy’s army nor his now more sympathetic stance on southern independence, not after all he had gone through. But, he still strongly believed in harmonist principles and didn’t wish to antagonize the only part of the Apple clan he still had left outside the south.
“If only things could go back to being as simple as before” he muttered to himself with a frustrated sigh. The memories of all the rodeos and Apple family reunions they had shared together, coming back like a flood to the forefront of his mind.
“Why can’t Celestia just let us go? Especially after all they had been through” he let out as he laid on his bed, the heaviness he had been feeling for the past day returning to him.
“Maybe, if we try, we can live in harmony again” he optimistically murmured to himself as he turned off the lights.
With this he resolved himself to finally finish the letter by tomorrow, it was the least he could do. Though, if his suspicions on the nature of the morning’s planned meeting were correct, the next day he’d have to reckon with much more than a letter to his estranged family.