14th of First Seed, 401 After Empire
Writing was never something that I took a profound interest in. There are things I consider more important for a pegasus to know; how to plow a field, how to navigate stormy currents, how to handle a sword and wing blades. Above all, however, I believe that a pegasus must learn how to remember, and maybe it is through this belief that I feel the need to write.
There are many things we must remember, being the proud Cirrans that we are. We were able to save many of the books of our history from the libraries in Stratopolis, but those will only do for us so much. Somepony must write an account of what has transpired throughout the past year, and perhaps there is nopony better qualified than me. I, Commander Hurricane, rose through the ranks from lowly pegasus farmer to the emperor of a dying nation. My actions helped to shape the future for the pegasus race, how little of actions they were. Do not mistake my claims for boastfulness, for I take no pride in my position. Rather, they are the grim truth as told from the heart of a tired stallion who has done so much in such little time.
My account is long, for there was much that has transpired in the year since the beginning of my story. Perhaps it would be best if I start at the end and go back to the beginning. Yes, that will work much better.
The Cirran Empire fell on the 11th of Shivering Rains, 401 After Empire. Stratopolis was besieged by a griffon force that was many times larger than the garrison of volunteers who had stayed to defend it. I know not the number of griffons that fell, but I suppose that my fifteen thousand pegasi slayed well over forty thousand of the beasts. We made them pay for the city with a much higher price than we lost defending it, and still they did not win. For our civilians were safe, and crossed the ocean later that day to lands unknown to the griffons.
The flight took roughly twenty days for myself and my companions, for being the leader of my people, I took it upon myself to stay towards the rear and escort the young and old who could not move at as fast a pace as those in the front. Food was scarce, and many of our group succumbed to hunger before they spotted land. Only supplies of food from the fastest of our fliers who had reached the distant shores and gathered sustenance to bring back to us saved more from death.
When we landed on the shores of this new continent, my soldiers told me that our entire population numbered little more than two hundred thousand. Out of a nation of five million at the start of the war, that number weighs heavily in my heart. The griffons were indeed thorough with the slaughter of my people, and the famine they induced in their conquest killed many more. But we were safe, and perhaps there was never a higher price paid for safety than in the Red Cloud War.
We had few seeds to plant and little food left over, so we approached the other two pony tribes that inhabited the area – the Earth Ponies and the Unicorns – and we struck a deal with them. We offered them our military protection, for even with five thousand legionaries we were still far superior in the art of waging war than either of the other two tribes. In return we asked for little more than food, and both tribes happily agreed to share their supplies with us. The way the two leaders eyed each other’s throats leads me to believe that they wish for us to ally with one and destroy the other, and the best way to score allies was through offering us aid in our time of need. So we arranged for the earth ponies to give us food, while the unicorns manufacture many of the goods we need to begin building a home for ourselves. In return we offered to police their towns and utilize our natural ability to manipulate the weather to encourage the growth of earth pony crops and curtail the frigid winds that consistently blister the unicorn settlements in the mountains.
Not more than half a month after our exodus from Dioda, we are still in the process of constructing our capital city. A strong base for the city already exists, located some miles north of the other tribes. Every day, more houses are erected. The shell of the palace has already been completed, and I write this from within the barren walls of my study, home only to a table, a chair, and a bookshelf. When the city is complete, it should be able to hold a population of two million, for I foresee the rapid growth of my ponies in this new land. As we have agreed with the other two tribes to limit our settlements to the sky so as not to interfere with their borders, I have selected a name that represents the essence of our element. Before the year is out, I hope that the city of Cloudsdale will be complete in all its glory.
We held an official ceremony yesterday to honor those who died during the Red Cloud War, and we praised the Gods for having directed us to this new land of plenty. Then we set down to the mundane task of rebuilding the government. The Senate is still intact in structure, but I ordered that all senators be put up for reelection in the coming days. I was reappointed by the people in an overwhelming decision to maintain my place as leader of the pegasus nation. As a result, my first actions were to axe the title of ‘Emperor’ from our leadership position and symbolically downgrade our standing from an empire to a tribe. Two hundred-thousand does not a nation make, and I felt our current situation was that closer to the days of Roamulus and the Cirran tribe. And so Cirra has gone from tribe to empire and back again, in little more than four centuries.
My wife, Swift Spear, and my sister, Twister, have adjusted well to the new position we find ourselves in. I have appointed Swift to oversee the reconstruction of the Praetorian and to select viable candidates from the surviving legionaries and officers to be promoted into the ranks of the Guard. Under her hoof, the Legion and the Praetorian will flourish once more into the powerful force they were known to be. Twister has taken a keen interest in building relations with the other tribes, and so I have made her the first Cirran Legatus, the pegasus who shall represent me when I cannot be bothered to attend diplomatic meetings. Seeing the world was something Twister always wanted to do back in Dioda but never had the chance. Now she can see more of this world than any other pegasus before her in her travels to the lands of the different tribes.
But perhaps I have deliberated too far. The secretaries are already hard at work cataloguing the events of Cirra in this new land, and they will probably do a more thorough and clean job than I could ever hope for. Instead, let me turn my quill back towards the past. Pegasus historians many years from now will look back on the days of the Red Cloud War and attempt to draw lines where they believe they should be drawn. Unless there is some record of what actually happened, hyperbolic interpretation and sentimentalism will take the place of the truth. Therefore I must write down what has happened, so all shall know, hundreds of years from now, the death of an empire in all its grim detail. They shall hear the account from the mouth of a pegasus who lived through it and has nothing more to add, because to add or detract would dishonor those who died for Cirra. They shall hear the truth, with no detail spared, no edges smoothened, no sins forgiven.
Come, you who read this, and sit down. Gather some food, a warm mug of ale, and a candle to read by. Make yourself at home, for through these words I extend my hospitality to you from the grave. Let me tell you a tale of life and death, war and peace, and the fall of a mighty empire. You who read this, open your mind and forget that which second-hoof history has taught you. These words come from experience and life in its finest detail.