This Magic Moment

by ScatMan2001

Chapter 8: Surroundings

Twilight finishes writing down your latest response from her endless examination of you and your kind.

“OK,” she begins, preparing herself for another question. “Which leads me to my next question, what are those for?”

She gestures towards your pile of clothes that are currently laying on a chair at the far end of the room. They used to be your clothes, and they used to look like them too, but they’re all burnt and ripped up for some reason. Your car accident must have sucked. Good thing you weren’t awake for it.

“My clothes?” you ask.

“Oh, those are clothes?”

“Well, yeah. At least, they used to be.”

She writes something down on her notepad.

        “And what is this?” she asks, levitating a small, black box towards you.

        “My phone!” you yell, looking at the broken, smashed box. “Well shit. Can’t call my parents now.”

        “What does this do, exactly?” She looks closely at your old phone.

        “It’s a phone. It allowed me to talk to people and write messages to them.”

        “Why don’t you just talk to people when you see them? Or write letters?”

        “I don’t know. Everyone has one.”

        “Why?”

        “I have no idea.”

Twilight is sitting on a chair next to your bed. Which is strange. You were unaware that four-legged creatures sat on chairs like humans. Or on chairs at all.

Oh well. You have almost decided to give up on trying to make sense of everything that is happening. There is a purple, magic-wielding unicorn next to your bed, who is having a very decent conversation with you, and you’re wondering why it is sitting a certain way.

You sigh. You’re not going to give up on logic just yet.

“Do all humans wear clothes?” she asks. “Or is it just you?”

“No, no, all humans wear clothes,” you respond, getting thirsty. “We wear them all the time.”

She continues to write on her notepad, before finally finishing the last page. She then sets that notepad on the floor along with a dozen or so others that are full of information about you and your species, and pulls out a new, blank notepad.

“Forgive me for asking, but why?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, ponies only wear clothes for social events or on special occasions, like going out to dinner at a nice restaurant.”

“Uh, humans wear them for a whole bunch of reasons, now that I think about it. Common decency, I suppose is a big one. Most people don’t want to see random naked people walking around everywhere.

“Another would be for warmth. Humans don’t have a lot of hair. Unless they’re Italian. So clothes keep us from freezing to death.”

She continues to scribble on the notepad.

“Hey, Twi?” you ask.

She looks up.

“Can I call you, ‘Twi’? Or does that bother you?”

She smiles. “Of course! A lot of my friends call me ‘Twi’, so feel free to do so.”

You smiles in return. It’s good to have friends, regardless of race or species or whether or not they should actually exist.

Twilight has been talking to you for hours, and over that course of time, you have inevitably grown thirsty. You glance at the glass of water that currently rests on your nightstand.

“Great. And, uh, Twi?” She looks up. “Can I have a drink of water, please? It’s getting a little warm in here... And I would do it myself, but...”

You pull up with your arms, only for them to be almost immediately stopped by the handcuffs - hoofcuffs? - on either of wrist. In addition to the handcuffs attached to both of your wrists and the bed, there are two straps that stretch across the bed. One of these straps runs across your midsection, and the other goes just above your knees.

Every movement you make in an attempt to vacate your uncomfortable bed is in vain, as the restraints keep you firmly in place.

You know why they strapped you to the bed. Everypony in town knows.

You had what could be described as a “very minor panic attack” earlier this same morning. Not that it was necessarily your fault. Not only are you in a land that is nothing like the world you came from, but the hospital staff did not know what drugs to give you. They assumed that drugs for ponies would be fine to use on you, considering they have no idea what you are, but they were wrong.

Or so you heard.

The combination of not being on Earth and these drugs caused you to flip a shit and try to escape the hospital.

Luckily, none of the ponies wanted you to die, so they tied you to the bed. Which would not be a problem if the bed was actually comfortable, or you could access food by yourself, or if it wasn’t so warm in here!

“No problem!” Twilight levitates the glass of water in front of your face. You maneuver your mouth forward a few short inches until finding the bendy straw.

“Do you need me to turn down the heat?” Twilight asks as you continue to drink the cool water.

“No, I think I’m fine,” you say, which is not entirely a lie. “These restraints just make me really uncomfortable, and when I get uncomfortable, it gets warmer.”

“I really wish I could help you, but you know I can’t.” She places your water back on the table. “Those straps are for your own good, and for the rest of the hospital staff too. You shouldn’t have tried to-”

“I know, I know,” you interrupt her. Twilight spent the early hours of her visit lecturing you on why it was wrong to attempt to escape, as if you didn’t already know, so hearing all of it again would only be frustrating.

“If you already know everything then why did you try to wheel yourself outside of the hospital, while delirious and bleeding, at 5:30 in the morning?”

You grumble. No coherent words actually escape your lips because you don’t know what to say, but you just hope Twilight knows you’re upset.

“I know you’re upset, so can we just return to the interview?”

        You grumble again. It seems the frustration of the day has suddenly come upon you all at one time. You failed to escape the hospital. They gave you some bad drugs. They tied you down to an uncomfortably small bed. You can’t eat or drink by yourself. Twilight has been here ever since you woke up, which was almost 7 hours ago. 7 hours! And it’s so damn warm in here!

        “I don’t wanna,” you say in a childlike fashion. If possible, you would turn over, but you can’t. You just can’t. You close your eyes, ready to sleep.

        “Aww, does my little human need a nap?” she asks using baby-talk. “Does he want his bottle?”

        You want to smile, but if you do, you lose.

        “Do you need a diaper change?”

        You actually are wearing a diaper right now, so you don’t know if she’s being serious or not. Rather than having to escort you to the restroom, the nurses found it easier just to give you a diaper.

        “Tell you what,” Twilight begins, “answer just twenty more questions, and that will be it for the day... How does that sound?”

        Twenty questions doesn’t sound bad at all. You’ve probably answered at least 80,000 (estimated) questions thus far today, so twenty is relatively nothing.

        “OK,” you agree, opening your eyes and turning to look at Twilight.

        ‘Let just get this over with so I can be left alone.’

        “Wonderful!” She clops her hooves together in excitement. She scans her notepad before looking back at you. “Alright. Do humans have wings?”

        “No,” you answer simply.

        “Then how do humans control the weather?”

        “We don’t.”

        “Hmm... alright, who raises and lowers the sun and the moon?”

        ‘What the hell did she just ask?’

“No one? It just happens.”

        “Huh. Strange.” She writes something down.

        ‘How the hell is that strange?!’

“What does your diet mainly consist of?”

        “Uh, let’s see. Dairy products. Grains. Meats. Lots of meats, actually. Fruits. Vegetables. Humans eat a whole bunch of things. As long as it is a noun, it has probably been consumed or attempted to have been consumed by a human.”

        She quirks an eyebrow at you, even though she does not have any eyebrows.

        “OK, then. How many humans are there where you come from?”

        “In my country? Or in the entire world?”

        “The world.”

        “Somewhere around 7 billion.”

        “What do you mean by ‘somewhere around’?”

        “What I mean is that there are a very large amount of humans where I come from and I have not personally met or counted them.”

        “What kind of magic is there where you come from?”

        “There isn’t.”

        “Interesting...” she continues to write in her notepad. “I think that’s enough questions for today. I got a ton of information for the Princess’ report. I’ll get everything together and have Spike send it to her later tonight.”

        “Who’s Spike?” you ask, never having heard this name before.

        “My assistant! He’s a baby dragon. You see, twelve years ago-”

        “Wait.” You hate to interrupt, but this is important. “Did you say ‘dragon’?”

        “Yes. Are there dragons where you come from? Or do you not know what they are?” She levitates the pad of paper in front of her again, eagerly awaiting your response.

        “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I know what dragons are.”

        It’s not a lie. You do know what dragons are. You’ve seen Dragon Tales. You’ve played Skyrim.

        You’ve encountered and killed countless dragons in that game... Damn. Now you want to play Skyrim.

This world having dragons does not surprise you in the slightest. You haven’t seen anything you would classify as ‘normal’ since you got here, so why not shouldn’t this world have dragons?

What does surprise you, though, as that Twilight just said Spike, a dragon, was her assistant. Her assistant!

Not a bodyguard. An assistant. Someone who sends letters for Twilight. Letters!

Twilight smiles from next to you.

You are beginning to get afraid of that purple pony. You had a nice day together so far, but then you hear she has a dragon as an assistant.

Hell, dragons were scary enough when you were just playing video games. But she actually has one!

‘How the hell does this adorable 4 foot tall pony have a 30-or-so foot dragon as an assistant?!’

“Well, uh,” you nervously clear your throat, “dragons are just mythological creatures where I’m from. Just like unicorns and pegasi. So I know what they are, but they don’t actually exist.”

Twilight’s smile gets even bigger. “I assure you, Spike is real, and so are dragons.”

Good. That’s what you wanted to hear. You make a mental note to never piss Twilight or her friends off ever, lest you get eaten and slowly digested by a fire-breathing monster.

You laugh nervously. “Cool. That’s great. Awesome.”

“Are you OK?” she asks. “You look a little warm.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m fine. Really. It’s just been a long day. And humans overheat if they don’t get sleep, you know?”

“Oh, really?”

‘No.’

“Yep. That definitely happens.”

“Hmm... Well I wouldn’t want you to overheat, so I’ll let you get your rest.”

Just as Twilight begins to get out of her chair, the door to your room slams open, and in walks...

        ‘What is that?’

“Twilight! Twilight!” the small, scaled creature calls in a young, male voice. “Princess Celestia just sent me a letter!”

        He hands the scroll over to Twilight who grips it in a purple aura. She unrolls the scroll and begins to read.

        You look at the small purple creature and he looks back at you with a curious expression.

        “Uh, hey,” he greets tentatively, waving a hand/ claw at you.

        “Hey,” you respond equally as cautiously.

        “You the human?”

        “I think so.”

        “Cool.”

        There is a moment of silence.

        You decide to introduce yourself and extend a hand for a proper greeting.

        “Haven’t heard a name like that before,” he observes. “Nice to meet you. I’m Spike, Twilight’s number one assistant!” He says the last part proudly, like it’s something to brag about.

        Wait... Spike?

        “You’re Spike?” you ask.

        “Uh huh.”

        “The dragon?”

        “Yep.”

        “But you’re... tiny.”

        “I’m a baby.”

        ‘Baby dragons can talk?’ you ask yourself.

        Before you can ask Spike any questions about dragons, you hear a sharp intake of air coming from Ms. Twilight Sparkle.

        “What is it, Twilight?” you and Spike manage to ask at the exact same time.

        “Spike, when did you get this letter?” Twilight asks, sounding terrified.

        “Uh...” the little dragon thinks and rubs his claws together nervously. “I don’t know, exactly. I fell asleep on the couch, but when I woke up, this was laying on my stomach,” he points at the scroll.

        “Oh no.” Twilight begins sweating and walking around the small hospital room. “Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no...”

        “What is it Twilight?” you ask.

        She turns sharply to look at you. “Princess Celestia sent me a letter.”

        “Is that bad?”

        “I sent her a letter last night and now she wants to meet you.”

        You quirk an eyebrow. “Is that bad?” You haven’t heard anything bad about the Princess, so you’re surprised to see Twilight looking so nervous.

        “Yes!” she shouts. “We’re not prepared! Oh no. We need to get everypony in Ponyville out in the streets ready to greet her. We need decorations. We need the marching band to play when she gets here. We-”

        The sound of a large object connecting and sliding across the ground pulls Twilight out of her panic attack.

        “Oh no!” she shouts, running to the window. “We’re not ready! She’s going to be so disappointed in me!”

        She pokes her head out the window.

        “Oh no!” she rushes towards the door of your room.

        “What?” you ask, very confused. And a little amused.

        “Her carriage just arrived!”

==========
 

        Well... you’re here... you’ve been here for quite some time...

        The battlefield... The place of battle...

        Battling occurs here.

        You take a deep breath and observe the terrain around you as you have many times before. You, along with the rest of the army under General Maximus arrived at this very spot a week ago, and were given orders to make camp. And wait.

        The terrain around you is nothing all to special considering where you are.

        Directly behind the Legion’s camp, about a mile or two away, is a mountain. A very large, treacherous mountain.

        Perhaps some background on the current situation would help one to understand why it is exactly General Maximus thought this specific spot was a good idea to make camp.

        After leaving Canterlot over 3 weeks ago, the Legion began to march north. Where exactly, you did not know, and neither did anypony else. Except Maximus. He knew where to go. He always does.

        You made the long march down the mountain that holds Canterlot, which was much more dangerous than one may think. There is a reason nopony ever hears about anypony walking up or down the mountain. It’s just a dumb idea.

        In fact, on the way down, you heard the first casualty was taken.

        A stallion by the name of Khanda got his leg caught in a hole. Now, this act alone, should not break one’s leg, and in Khanda’s case, this would also be the case. However, Khanda, carrying the 40+ pounds of standard issue gear that everypony has to carry, fell to his side after getting his leg caught. From what you heard, he could not stop himself, and fell until his leg snapped.

        Khanda suffered a nasty compound fracture, and could no longer walk. So, lucky for him, he got to turn around and be escorted to a hospital.

        Khanda wasn’t part of your Century, so you still have all 80 of your soldiers ready for the fight. And you hope to keep it that way.

        You think you heard rumors of another two or three soldiers injuring themselves on the way down the mountain, but you have yet to officially confirm them. And you won’t go around asking ponies who got injured, mainly because you do not care. It may sound harsh, but you don’t really care for anypony else outside of your Century. Their safety is your number one concern.

        You are responsible for all of their lives.

        You.

        Luckily, nopony has died yet. It’s good to know that the mountain was unable actually kill any of Equestria’s brave soldiers.

        Anyway, you reach the bottom of the mountain and begin your journey north.

        The air at the bottom of the mountain was much warmer than it was in the city of Canterlot. And your ears popped. Looking up at the mountain that holds Equestria’s capital city, you see just how big it really is. And it’s really big.

        The army then proceeded north. All on foot. Or on hoof. Or by wing, even. But not by train.

        You haven’t seen very many pegasi soldiers, but you know all about them. Pegasi are referred to as “cavalry” in Equestria. It may not make too much sense, considering the entire Legion is composed of horses, but pegasi are called “cavalry”, and ground troops like you are called “infantry.”

        Simple enough.

        Pegasi, though, have the toughest job in your opinion.

        They act as cavalry, hence the name. This means they are the eyes and ears of the army. If shit’s happening 5 miles in any direction of the rest of the main force of the army, pegasi need to observe it and alert the rest of the army before you get taken off guard.

        This involves flying almost all day, every day. Now, you cannot fly, unfortunately, but you imagine that doing so can be very taxing on the body. If it was an easy thing to do, you doubt any pegasus that isn’t afraid of heights would just spend their entire life flying in the sky. And the Wonderbolts probably wouldn’t be so damn popular. But they are.

        You’re a fan of the Wonderbolts. Not their number one fan, as Rainbow Dash claims to be, but a fan nonetheless.

        You actually know the Wonderbolts on a personal level, which is more than most can say. They are always invited to every party Celestia throws, and they always show up. They never miss a party. Though they usually don’t go to the parties to party; they go to sign autographs and take pictures with fans and such. They’re nice ponies outside of a military base.

        It is important to understand what the Wonderbolts are before going any further.

        The Wonderbolts are Equestria’s most famous stunt group. But that’s not all. In addition to performing, they act as full time soldiers.

        They’re basically Navy SEALS who, when they aren’t killing or training to kill, put on acrobatic performances for the masses.

        The Wonderbolts have never been needed to actually go and kill until now.

        The reason they train so much, besides for their performances, is so that if Equestria ever has an emergency, they can be called upon to help.

        As they are now.

        Some of the Wonderbolts are actually accompanying the Legion as you march north.

        Both Captains are, for whatever reason. Why Spitfire and Soarin’ are coming with one of three armies is beyond you. You would have figured that one would go with your Legion, another would go with another Legion, and some other leader figure would go with the third.

        But you’re wrong. They’re both here.

        Not that you mind. They are amazing fighters, and incredibly fit. You value having them accompany you.

        Two more Wonderbolts are accompanying your Legion: Blaze and Misty Fly.

        There are a total of 15 Wonderbolts, you think, and 4 of whom are with you. It may not seem like a lot, but what they lack in numbers they easily make up for in skill.

        Back to why being a pegasus can really suck.

From what you learned at Officer Candidate School, pegasi don’t fight on the ground. Now, that may not be surprising, but how violent the fighting is might be.

From what you learned, pegasi fight overtop of the battlefield. So while the infantry is fighting on the ground, the cavalry fight hundreds, or even thousands of feet above your head.

Pegasi are the weakest of the three common pony species, so carrying heavy weaponry up to those great heights can be dangerous and pointless. A pegasi could get exhausted before they even get to the fight.

Often times, pegasi don’t even take weapons up in the sky with them. They form up and go, and that’s it.

        Pegasi can be used to drop explosive devices or rocks or other heavy objects from above onto the helpless armies below. To keep this from happening, enemy pegasi will engage your pegasi, and your pegasi will fight back, and then shit gets real.

        Because some pegasi don’t bring weapons with them, they use whatever they can to kill their opponent. You heard stories of pegasi kicking, biting, and even grabbing enemies and free falling hundreds of feet before letting go and hoping their enemy hits the ground hard enough to kill them.

        If a pegasi gets stabbed in the sky, there is almost nothing they can do. If they begin to fall and cannot stop, they’re dead. Unless somepony else picks them up, which is not very likely in the middle of fierce combat zone.

        And where do those falling pegasi end up?

        That’s right. Directly on top of your head. Pegasi fall from the sky in large numbers and land on the infantry below, who are busy fighting their own battle. If a pegasus survives the fall, they better pray they land on the friendly side, or else they are going to be finished off or captured.

        Battles in this world are even more dangerous than medieval battles on Earth. This is gonna be like fighting in Narnia, except bloodier.

        Mares are allowed to join the military. Some units are gender exclusive, like yous. But others, such as the Wonderbolts, have a good mix of stallions and mares.

        Mares aren’t quite as common as stallions, but you always see them walking around camp, doing whatever it is mares do when they’re in the army.

        You don’t know what they do.

        The Legion continued to march north until it joined up with six other Equestrian Legions.

        Six.

        That’s a ton. That’s a total of seven Legions in all.

        You belong to the First Legion, which is basically the equivalent of a division. Your Legion met up with the Second Legion after a week of marching and the Fifth Legion about five or six days ago. Then the other four have been trickling into camp over the past couple days, trying to get to camp before the enemy has a chance to attack.

        You don’t know how many soldiers were in a Legion or a Division back on Earth, but here, one Legion equals about 6,000 soldiers.

        That brings the total strength of Maximus’ army to around 42,000 stallions. So many soldiers.

        Longstreet and Alexander were given somewhere between 25,000 to 30,000 troops. Which is a lot, but not nearly as much as Maximus’ Legions.

        You heard that the reason Maximus was given more troops than Alexander and Longstreet was because it is Maximus’ job to defend Canterlot, the capital city of Equestria. If the Destrierian army can take that city, this war could be over a lot sooner than some may hope.

        It is imperative that you win this battle. And not only defeat the Destrierian army, but completely annihilate them beyond recognition.

        This is going to be a bloody mess.

        But that’s not all! Not even close!

        The Twin Gryphon Kingdoms, a large, singular empire northwest of Equestria, and long time enemy of the Drestrian Provinces, have offered their forces to be used in the upcoming war.

        The Twin Gryphon Kingdoms and the Destrierian Provinces have been fighting since before Equestria even came into an official existence with the overthrowing of Discord by Celestia and Luna, and they have been fighting ever since.

        You guess the gryphons see this as a good opportunity to kill their old enemy.

        Even if the gryphons didn’t hate the Destrierians, you still think gryphons would have been sent to fight with Equestria. Princess Celestia and King Ozios the Great have been very good friends for decades, so gryphons would probably be sent to help, regardless.

         7,000 gryphon soldiers reinforced your army, bringing the total number of troops to 49,000.

        Gryphons were warmly welcomed when they arrived at camp. Gryphons are naturally very loyal, and it didn’t take them to make friends with everypony in camp. A gryphon was even assigned to bunk with you. Two officers per tent.

        And that was when you met Griff. Griff the Gryphon. Appropriately named because his name is Griff, and he is a Gryphon. Everything makes sense in the end.

        Griff is the equivalent of a Lieutenant in the Gryphon military, and he is in charge of 50 gryphon soldiers.

        You were a little nervous about having to share a tent with a gryphon. You’ve met a few before, but not many. You can count on two fingers how many gryphons you’ve met before the war.

        But Griff is actually really cool. He’s easy to get along with, doesn’t care what anyone thinks about him, and gives his opinion on everything. Which, in some cases, may get annoying at times, but it has yet to bother you.

        He’s fun to argue with.

        And that’s not all!

        In addition to ponies and gryphons, there are zebras and minotaurs here as well!

        There aren’t many of them. There are actually only 2 minotaurs, but two is way better than none. Those guys could probably use dead bodies as weapons if they really wanted to. But considering they brought their own weaponry, you guess they won’t be doing that.

        That brings the total number of soldiers in this army to somewhere around 50,000.

        And you’re going to need every single one of them. You haven’t seen the enemy army yet, and neither have the scouts. But rumors have been circulating that they have somewhere between 40,000 and 70,000 soldiers. You hope it’s 40,000.

        And that brings you up to the present, where you are standing outside the camp on picket duty with Griff next to you. His mercenaries intermingling with your legionnaires. It is your job to guard the camp, but there isn’t anything to guard it from yet, so you allow your soldiers and Griff’s to hang out for a while.

        You and Griff have made a small fire and are sitting next to it. Your soldiers are about 30 feet in front of you. Mingling.

        You observe the terrain which will most likely host the upcoming battle.

        All the land around you is flat. Everything is flat. Except for one thing. And that thing is a mountain. A very large, very long, snow-capped mountain.

        The mountain sits behind the camp. It is very tall, which keeps anypony from simply walking over it. If someone were to try such a thing, they would suffer severe casualties just from frostbite.

        Luckily, you did not have to walk over said mountain to reach your current location. There is a pass through the mountain that allowed everypony to simply walk through, and not around, the mountain.

        Walking around the mountain would take weeks in itself. It stretches for miles in both directions, and the only pass you know of is the one behind the army’s camp.

        And that is what the Legion is doing. Guarding the mountain pass from the Destrierian army. Maximus assumed that they’ll want to take the shortest, most direct to Equestria’s capital, which would just so happen to go through the pass.

        Once they get here, they’ll see you waiting for them, and there will probably be a battle.

        If you win, and are able to destroy their army, Maximus’ legions will probably be sent to assist Alexander’s or Longstreet’s, and hopefully drive the rest of the enemy forces out of the country.

        If you lose, Canterlot will be left defenseless, and susceptible to a direct invasion or a lengthy siege.

        This will probably be the first battle of the war, and it is already the most important.

        Sieging Canterlot will probably be a very difficult feat if Maximus somehow loses. Surrounding and attacking a very large city on top of a mountain with only a handful of ways up sounds next to impossible. But hopefully they will never get the chance to do so.

        All the land around you is covered in a thin layer of snow. It is still winter, after all, but spring is fast approaching.

        No weather pegasi have been seen around here since the army’s arrival. You suppose the weather around here just naturally happens, like in the Everfree Forest. Or literally anywhere on Earth.

        Also, the nearest civilization, as far as you know, is Cloudsdale, which is a few days’ march back the way you came, so if nopony lives out here, than there is hardly a reason to control the weather anyway.

        And that is why there is snow on a battlefield.

        As far as you know, there are no roads around here. There might be, but you can’t see any because of the snow. All is just a flat expanse of white.

        If weather pegasi actually did try to change the weather here, they’d probably die, so it’s good that they’re not here.

        “It’s never about the killing, you know,” Griff says, poking at the fire with a stick.

        Griff looks like any other gryphon. He’s got an eagle head and a lion’s body with paws and claws and wings.

        The only way to discern him from any other gryphon is that he has a very large, easily spotted scar running across an eye. It’s kind of like Scar from the Lion King.

        Sometimes Griff wears an eyepatch, just to look sketchy as hell, but he can see just fine. It also helps to identify him in a crowd of gryphons.

        Griff, when standing normally, is slightly taller than the average gryphon. Only slightly, though. If one just glances at him, one probably would not be able to tell.

        And he also enjoys talking about the darkest things, as he is trying to do now.

        “Is that so?” you ask.

        He nods. “At least, not up in the sky. The only goal is to outlast the other army, and you win. It’s all about rolling with the punches. See, everyone is going to get injured. It’s going to happen. It’s inevitable if you join the air force. You just have to expect to get stabbed or cut or bitten or maimed... But all you have to do is stay there. Just keep on floating and don’t die. That’s how you win. Roll with the punches...

        “You see this scar?” Griff points to the scar running across his eye.

        “Didn’t notice it until now,” you reply.

        He ignores your sarcasm. “Got this in the Battle of Eastmoor. It was a terrific mess.”

        You’ve never heard the word ‘mess’ be described by the word ‘terrific’ before. First time for everything, you guess.

        “You see,” Griff continues, “we began the fight by launching our air forces, which I was apart of. So I’m flying up, I’ve got a stiletto duct taped to my claw, and I’m ready to kill.”

        “You had a knife taped to your claw?” you ask, pointing to his leg.

        He scoffs and chuckles. “Obviously! How else am I going to kill those dirty bastards? Head butting? I don’t think so. Besides, I wouldn’t want to drop the thing. If you drop your weapon while that high, you’re not getting it back.”

        Making sense so far.

        “Anyway,” he goes on, “some of us are carrying rocks and shit, and once we get overtop of the Destrierian ground forces, we just let them go.”

        He attempts to laugh in order to keep his smile, but he just can’t. He has a dazed look in his eyes as he just stares at the ground.

        You don’t say anything.

        ‘Why is he telling me this?’

        He shakes his head and clears his throat suddenly. “Ahem. Uh, anyway, so after only about 30 seconds, their air force shows up, and the battle truly begins.

        “One guy comes straight at me. I don’t know why. You’re never supposed to charge another gryphon or pegasus head on if they see you coming. I don’t know what he was thinking.

        “Well, the dumbass comes straight at me, so I just extend my leg, and he flies right into the knife...” He takes a breath. “Then I pull it out, stab his wings for good measure, and let him go. I watched him fall for a few seconds. He didn’t even try to start flying again.”

        ‘Jesus Christ,’ you think, unable to actually say anything.

        “That was my first kill... You never forget your first... The battle keeps going. I stab. I get stabbed. I bite. I get bitten. But I got my rabies shot, so I’m not afraid of somepony’s teeth.”

        “Is that how you got the scar?” you ask, finding your voice again.

        He smirks a little. “Nah. You see, hours later, they finally begin to retreat. And this is my first battle, right? So I’m so damn excited that we won and I’m alive. I couldn’t be happier...

        “So I start shouting and dancing and celebrating right in the middle of the damn sky. I’m not paying attention to what’s around me. Then the next thing I know, somepony jumps on my back and we both start falling.

        “And on the way down, this guy is still on my back. I feel him wrap his leg around my neck and see he’s got a huge knife taped on his leg. I got this little stiletto, but this guy’s got a fucking Bowie knife. You ever see one of them?”

        You nod.

        “They’re big aren’t they? So, naturally, I flip a shit, not wanting to get stabbed by this asshole, especially after the battle’s over. I’m panicking, and neither of us have our wings out, and we’re approaching the ground faster and faster, and I’m like, ‘If I don’t get this guy off my back we’re both going to die.’

        “I should have twisted my body around to get him off, but I was panicking, and I wasn’t thinking straight. So I grab his leg that’s around my neck, and I pull as hard as I can. This guy wasn’t expecting that to happen, so he flips right the fuck over my head. Unfortunately for me, though, his bowie knife comes right across my face as he’s flipping off, and cuts my eye pretty deep.

        “I shut my eyes and scream and spread my wings and flap as hard as I can, which is just enough to stop me, only a dozen or so feet from the ground. I open my good eye, and I finally get a good look at the field.

        “Dead ponies and gryphons everywhere. I even see what used to be the guy on my back lying in pieces. Literally. The force from the impact actually tore him apart. He was in like, 3 or 4 pieces. I’m not sure exactly, though. I didn’t count.

        “Then I threw up.”

        A silence overcomes the both of you. You haven’t been able to say anything for a few minutes. His story was... well... not really ‘shocking.’ ‘Disturbing’ is probably the word you would use. But it seemed important for him to tell you about his fight, so you let him.

        Griff has always been a little weird in his own way. He enjoys talking about things most ponies don’t. For example, stabbing and killing and battle and the like.

        You don’t mind it, though. You just let him talk, and he appreciates it.

        “A-And that was my first battle,” Griff says, straightening his back. “I’ve gotten a lot smarter since. And I’m even an officer now, which is pretty impressive if you start out as a private.”

        “How many battles have you been in?” you ask, staring at the ground.

        “Uh... including that one? Three. I’ve been in some minor skirmishes, but those don’t count as battles. So three.”

        You guess it was a good thing to hear that story, as disturbing as some parts may have been. Within the next few days, you expect to be killing or being killed, so it’s probably a good thing you heard a legitimate war story from someone. God knows no pony in this camp can tell you a war story.

        You look down at the fire, suddenly very interested in the way it crackles and pops.

        “So you’ve fought the Destrierians before?” you ask, wanting to learn a little about your enemy.

        “Sure. Lots of times.”

        “What are they like? Like, their fighting style and weapons. What are we going up against?”

        “Uhm... Well, their weapons and fighting style are just like Equestria’s, I guess. At least from what I can see. I don’t see any major differences. But they have a different attitude about war.”

        “What do you mean?”

        “Like... Equestria is that one big kid that lives on your street that nobody ever messes with, but is strangely nice, you know? Like, you wouldn’t want to mess with him, and he looks like he could beat you up, but he wouldn’t ‘cause he’s a nice guy. You know what I’m saying?”

        “I think so.”

        “Good. But the Destrierians, on the other claw, are like that short kid on the block, who thinks he’s really tough, but isn’t, really. So he will go around and be aggressive to everyone and pick fights to try and show how tough he is but he usually gets his ass kicked.”

        “That’s a pretty good analogy, Griff.”

        “Thanks. I thought it was too.”

        “You think we’ll win?”

        He takes a deep, contemplative breath. “I don’t know. The entire field is flat,” he says, gesturing to the field in front of you. “No high ground. Numbers would be useful, too. Remember, even the short guy gets in a lucky punch now and again, so watch out. I think we have a great shot at winning, but don’t let that go to your head. Cockiness kills faster than anything else.”

        “I guess that’s true.”

        “As I said, I fought three battles against these guys, and we’ve won all three. But it was always a close call. Always. Remember, the Destrierians have a lot more battle experience than Equestrians do, so anything can happen.”

A mutual silence overcomes the small area you and Griff currently occupy. The silence is not awkward in the slightest. Sometimes it’s just nice to be quiet, and this would be one of those times. No words need to be said. There are no words you can think of saying.

But, of course, that silence is short lived.

“Isn’t that right, Captain?” you hear Mace shout to you.

You look up and see Mace, with a big, dumb grin on his face, in a crowd of ponies and gryphons who are all looking at you.

You suddenly feel very tired.

“I’m your Lieutenant,” you call back.

“Just say yes!” Mace insists.

You raise one finger, and one finger only, and point it in his general direction.

“Love you too, boss,” he says, beginning to walk towards you.

Mace is probably one of the only equines to know what that gesture means, but only because you told him.        

“What are you up to?” you ask him as he approaches.

“Just talking with some gryphons. Have you seen their talons?! They’re huge! They could actually kill me with those things! I’ve seen your talons, boss, but that’s nothing compared to gryphons.”

        You sigh. “Mace, for the last time, I don’t have talons. I have fingernails. Alright?”

        “What’s the difference?”

        “...I guess there isn’t one.”

        “I’m right then. As always.”

        “What do you want, Mace? Do you actually need anything?”

        “Nope! Just thought I’d come talk to my favorite human and the one-eyed gryphon.”

        “That’s great,” you sigh, standing up. “I’m gonna walk around a bit; make sure everypony is doing alright.”

        “I’m alright, cappy!”

        “I don’t give a shit.”

        Mace chuckles and takes your previous spot next to the fire, beginning a new conversation with Griff.

        You walk around to talk briefly with a few of your soldiers.

        Officers often don’t go around and speak with their soldiers often, especially not while on duty. However, you find that it is better for morale if your soldiers like you, so talking to them seems to be a good idea.

        You don’t know why more officers don’t talk to their legionnaires, as you do. Your Century has very high morale, and you like to think that it is because of you.

        Your soldiers have taken it upon themselves to split up into dozens of small, individual groups instead of remaining in one giant one. Most groups contain a couple of ponies and a gryphon, simply standing around and mingling.

        And occasionally checking the horizon for any signs of the enemy army, of course. That is your job. But nothing is over there.

        You only spend a few short minutes with each group. You know everypony by name, except for the gryphons, who are eager to introduce themselves. You ask how your soldiers are doing, how they are adjusting to life in camp, and things of that nature. Just small talk.

        Every gryphon you speak to, for whatever reason, seems very happy to meet you. Do they know about Celestia’s relationship with you? Do they know that their beloved commanding officer is your new best friend?

        Possibly. But you’re not going to question it. It’s nice to be around people, or creatures, rather, that actually want to be around you.

        God knows nopony in Canterlot wanted you around. The minute you first entered that city, which was only a week after your ‘arrival,’ everypony seemed to hate you. Or be afraid of you and hide. Or simply ignore you.

        Except for Celestia.

        You assume it was how Zecora felt when she moved to Ponyville.

        Speaking of zebras, you have yet to actually see one in the camp. Everyone was informed that zebras have arrived to reinforce the army just yesterday, but there has been no sign of them.

        They’re probably around here somewhere.

        You have seen one of the minotaurs, though. But how could you not? They’re like, 7 feet tall and are as wide as a truck.

        And they scare you.

        They are the most intimidating beings you have seen in person thus far in your life, so you’re glad they are on your side. If it was at all possible, you would want there to be more minotaurs in the Legion, but there aren’t.

        At least you have two.

        Anywho, you stroll about the large group of assembled pony and gryphon soldiers getting a chance to meet your new allies and catching up with your friends.

        You try your hardest to remind them that they are your subordinates despite the affection you show them, and they seem to get the idea.

        Finishing up another conversation that will probably be forgotten in a matter of moments, you walk over to two of your Legionnaires who are reading a newspaper.

        You immediately recognize both of them. One is Sergeant Daly, and the other is Sergeant York.

        Sergeant Daly has a blue coat with a white mane, and his cutie mark is a microphone. Sergeant York has a green coat with a black mane, and an impeccable mustache, and his cutie mark is a peace symbol, oddly enough.

The more you think about it, the more the cutie marks make sense.

Strange how things like that just seem to work out. And the similarities between this world and yours will never cease to astound you.

Both are standing at the far end of the picket line as you approach them.

Daly glances up from the paper and notices you walking over. Both Daly and York snap to attention upon noticing you.

“Sir!” they both shout in unison, looking straight ahead.

“As you were,” you respond, stopping in front of them. As previously mentioned, both Daly and York are sergeants, making them very important to you.

If you get injured, cannot carry out your duties, or die, one of your noncommissioned officers will have to take over for you. This means that Daly and York may one day take your position as lieutenant.

You don’t plan on dying anytime soon, so hopefully that won’t happen.

Both of them sit down in the snow and continue to read whatever is of interest in Equestria.

“How have you guys been?” you ask as they return to reading the newspaper. “Any problems or issues adjusting?”

“Besides me not wanting to be here, everything has been great,” York responds without looking up. He turns the page.

        “Don’t listen to him, Lieutenant,” Daly responds. “We’re fine. This paper is a couple days old, but everything is fine. Right, York?”

        York doesn’t respond. He just turns the page.

        “Yeah. We’re good. So what’s up with you, Lieutenant? Having fun?”

        “This isn’t exactly what I would call ‘fun,’ but nothing has gone wrong yet. Everypony is still alive. I haven’t been demoted. So it’s been good.”

        “Glad to hear it.” He turns back to the paper.

        “You guys have an extra copy?” you ask, wanting to have something to do.

        “Yeah,” York says, pulling an extra out of his saddlebags. “We actually have like, 50 of them in my bag. I was supposed to give them out.” He smiles sheepishly as he levitates over a paper. He puts on his saddlebag and gets up.

        You grab the paper. “Don’t worry about that now. We’re supposed to be on guard duty, so give them out later.”

        He smiles. “Awesome.” He takes off his bags, sits down, and begins reading again.

        You take a seat next to them, deciding to stay there a few minutes to read about whatever else is happening in Equestria.

        The front page is obviously talking about the war. Luckily, no where in the paper does it say where any of Equestria’s military forces currently are or are going. This unfortunately leaves the families of the Legion in the dark, but if the Destrierian army can read a newspaper to find out where everypony is, the war will be over very soon.

        Loose lips sink ships, you know.

        ‘Why am I reading about the war? I’m fighting in the damn war!’

Not wanting to read about the things you already know, you advance further into the newspaper.

        Finally, on the eighth page, is the sports section.

        There is an article discussing the cancellation of all Wonderbolts shows for the foreseeable future.

        There is an article discussing how baseball will be returning in a few weeks, despite the war. Sports have the ability to raise civilian morale, so they must continue like nothing is wrong.

        There was a golf tournament last week. But you skip that article.

        You continue through the newspaper, running over the weather and business sections. Neither of those things have any relevance to you at the moment.

        You are nearing the end of the paper.

        Usually, the articles in the very back of the newspaper would not interest you. But something catches your eye about this specific section. A picture to be accurate. A picture of Celestia to be even more accurate.

        This picture contains Celestia in her private chambers.

        You assumed you had the only picture of Celestia in such a location, and you tap your pocket to make sure that picture is still with you.

        Celestia is sitting on her purple cushion, her legs tucked underneath her, her wings unfurled on either side of her body, a cup of tea in front of her, and she is laughing, as though a joke has been told.

        Sitting across from her, on a separate cushion, is a stallion.

        There is a stallion...

        In Celestia’s private chambers...

        And they are having tea...

        Your mind is already beginning to make unfortunate conclusions from this picture. Maybe you’re just overreacting? It’s just a picture. Sure, Celestia never allows anypony in her private chambers except family and close friends, but you don’t even recognize this guy.

        He reminds you of Blueblood. The stallion in the picture has blond hair, a white coat, and he is a unicorn. You only know it’s not Blueblood because his cutie mark is a quill and an ink jar.

        The headline of the section is what really worries you.

        Who’s That Stallion?

Your heart skips a beat.

        Does that mean what you think it means?

        “Oh shit,” a voice says quietly from next to you.

        No.

        It can’t.

        No way.

        ...but maybe...

        You’re very confused.

        That headline could mean anything!

        ‘I’m just reading this wrong. Celestia and I didn’t even break up!... Right?’

You look back at the paper.

        ‘If we didn’t break up, then why is there some random, good looking noble stallion in our bedroom?... Her bedroom?’

It was just a dumb argument. A simple fight. It wasn’t a big deal!

        Couples fight all the time! It was bound to happen to you and Celestia eventually.

        You actually haven’t talked to Celestia since that night. You haven’t written a letter, nor have you received any. Not a single one. From anypony.

        Does she think it’s over?

        Maybe she thinks it’s over, but you still don’t...

        You look back at this anonymous stallion who, for some ungodly reason, has been invited into Princess Celestia’s bedroom.

        You don’t know whether to feel angry, ashamed, or sad... So you feel all three, just to be safe.

        You remove your helmet with shaky hands, and toss it into the snow.

        Daly and York look up at you.

        “Lieutenant?” one of them asks.

        You’re going to scream. At any moment now, you are going to lose it.

        You throw the paper at the hooves of your sergeants and grip your head in your hands.

        “Fuck me,” you say, barely above a whisper.

        Then there is silence.

        The only noise comes from the ponies and gryphons continuing to chat around you.

        “Thanks guys,” you say, getting up, grabbing your helmet, and walking away. You’re going to be relieved soon, and you could really go for something to eat.

==========  

        You’ve had a tremendously long day which seemed to consist of relatively nothing. You woke up at 5 in the morning, took roll call, ate, then went on picket duty for the entire morning and a large part of the afternoon.

        Where, as one may expect, nothing happened.

        The evening was spent with you and Griff talking and sitting around a fire. Again. This time, the fire was inside the confines of the camp.

        Soarin’ is sitting across from you, rubbing his wing.

        “What are you doing?” Griff, who is sitting next to you, asks Soarin’.

        “My wing is killing me.” Soarin’ responds. “I don’t even know why. I must’ve slept on in funny, or something.”

        “Let me look at it,” you say, slowly rising to your feet and walking to Soarin’. He extends his wing to the best of his ability for you to observe, but is not able to fully extend it.

        You place your wrist on the inside of his wing, and with your free hand, grip the tip of the blue appendage. You wrap his wing around your wrist tightly and quickly, before pulling backwards and feeling something pop.

        Soarin’ gasps before you let go, allowing his wing to unfurl completely.

        “Hey!” he says in slight shock, “how did you do that?” He flaps his wing to make sure it’s functional. “That’s incredible! My trainers can’t even do that!”

        You smile and take your seat next to Griff again. “Celestia taught me that.”

        She did. Every once in a while, even the sun goddess gets a wing cramp, and she will always need a way to fix it. So, she taught you what to do in case she ever sleeps funny or her wing hurts.

        It’s harder to do it on Celestia, though, because her wings are so damn big, but you’ve gotten really good at it.

        “Hey. Where did you get that?” Soarin’ asks you.

        You look up to see that he is gesturing to the plate of food sitting on your lap. However, the term ‘food’ is used loosely. You’re not entirely sure what is on your tray. It looks like they blended up a bunch of vegetables into a mush then slapped it onto your plate.

        You never thought you would miss hospital food.

        “You get one guess,” you respond, taking a bite of the slop. A normal human may be disgusted by the flavor, but Equestrian food has destroyed your tastebuds. You could literally be eating paint chips and you wouldn’t know.

        “The mess station?” he asks. You nod. He quirks an eyebrow and leans back a little. “And they’re serving that? Again?”

        You nod.

        He groans. “That’s like, the tenth day in a row. It’s not even good!”

        Spitfire walks over, tray in mouth, and sits on the log next to Soarin’.

        “You didn’t get me any?” he asks genuinely.

        She shakes her head and begins eating.

        Soarin’ grumbles to himself before dramatically rising to his hooves. Without a word, he turns towards the general direction of the mess station and begins slowly walking away, the sound of his hooves against the snow can easily be heard.

        “Does he do that every night?” Griff asks Spitfire, pointing to Soarin’ with a spoon.

        Spitfire sighs and rolls her eyes. “He’s been doing that ever since we got here, like I’m supposed to bring him food.”

        It’s true. You eat dinner with Soarin’ and Spitfire and Griff every night, and every night this same thing happens.

        “Do you think he’ll stop?” you ask.

        “Probably not. He’ll just be as stubborn as he can until I relent and actually get him something.”

        You doubt it would be a good idea for Spitfire to heed to Soarin’s demands, but whatever she wants to do is up to her.

        Soarin’ comes back with a tray in his mouth. He sets it down on the ground taking a seat.

        “Eugh,” he groans, sounding disgusted. “This slop is disgusting. What are we? Pigs?”

        He takes a very large bite out of the food.

        “You know,” he begins, spraying bits of food all over the place, “if I was in charge of the rations, I would at least serve something different everyday.” He swallows. “I mean really, the cooks have one job! And they can’t even do that right!” He takes another large bite.

        Despite Soarin’ complaining as much as he has, he has almost finished half of his tray. You on the other hand, haven’t even made a dent, and neither has Griff, and you’ve been eating at least three times longer than Soarin’ has.

        “Would you serve meat?” Griff asks Soarin’.

        “Would I what?” Soarin’ asks.

        “Serve meat. Gryphons aren’t vegetarian, you know.”

        “I’ll tell you what, how about we fly over to the Destrian camp, grab one of their guys, and you can eat him?”

        Griff chuckles. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but I get hungry enough, I’ll do it.”

        You groan. “I would kill for a hamburger right now. I haven’t had meat since I got here.”

        Griff chuckles. “Why not?”

        You look at him. “Ponies don’t eat meat, dude, so I can’t get any.”

        “Pfft. Of course you can!”

        “Not in Equestria.”

        “There are restaurants in Equestria where you can get meat.”

        “What? No. That can’t be true. I know I would have heard about this.”

        “He’s right,” Spitfire adds.

        You turn to look at her. “What?”

        She nods. “He’s right. Some restaurants in Equestria serve meat, from what I’ve heard. It’s really expensive though.”

        “Yeah, and they make you sit in some secluded part of the restaurant so nopony can smell it,” Soarin’ adds.

        “You two have known me since I got here, and you’re just telling me now?” you ask.

        Soarin’ shrugs.

        “I thought you were a herbivore,” Spitfire says.

        “You have got to be kidding me. I’m an omnivore.”

        “Relax,” Griff adds in. “Tell you what, when we go back to Canterlot, I’ll take you to one. Sound good?”

        You could cry even at the idea of being able to eat meat again.

        “I love you.”

        “Love you too, man,” Griff says. “You two want to go?” he asks Spitfire and Soarin’.

        Soarin’ chokes on his food.

        “Oh, Celestia, no!” Spitfire almost shouts. “That’s disgusting! Never ask that again.”

        “Sorry, sorry,” Griff apologizes, laughing. “I’m just not used to being in Equestria. I’m usually surrounded by meat-eaters.”

        “You OK?” you ask Soarin’, who is just beginning to recover.

        He coughs and coughs before sitting up straight again. “Yeah, yeah. Good. I just remembered one time I passed this Gryphon bar way outside of Baltimare after a show... the smell was so bad I almost threw up. And I was like, 100 feet in the air!”

        “No way, Soarin’, meat smells delicious. As long as it’s cooked properly.”

        “Oh dude,” Griff begins, placing a claw on your shoulder, “Gryphons do a mean steak. When we get back, that’s the first thing you gotta try.”

        “I’m up for it.”

        “There are only a few places in Canterlot that serve meat. Now, they usually make us sit in the basement so nopony upstairs can smell the meat, but it’s alright. It’s over-priced as shit and not as good as the meat you find where I’m from, but it’s alright.”

        You don’t mind sitting in a basement to eat meat. You would go to the god damn surface of the sun if it meant eating bacon again.

You’re stomach grumbles painfully, yearning for meat. “Yeah Griff, I’m sure we will do all that, but for now, let’s just not talk about it. It’s making me sad.”

“Alright.”

        “Can I ask a question?” Soarin’ asks in an attempt to change the topic of conversation, still spraying bits of food all over the place. Spitfire just kind of looks at him, disgusted.

        “Me?” you ask.

        “Yeah.”

        “Sure, go ahead.”

        “What the hell are you wearing?”

        You quirk an eyebrow and look down at yourself. You’re donning your usual attire. You have some warm clothes on, then your armor on top of that, and you’re wearing winter gloves and a beanie to keep your head warm and to make sure your helmet doesn’t get frozen on your headt.

        “Clothes.”

        He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. But why?”

        “So I don’t freeze to death.”

        ‘And because I look sexy as hell,’ you add in your head.

        These ponies can’t handle your swag.

        He chuckles. “Freeze to death? Really? It’s only like, 30 degrees out!”

        ‘Only 30 degrees?’

“That temperature can kill people, Soarin’.”

        “Pfft, what are you? An earth pony? Seriously, who gets cold at 30 degrees?”

“A lot of people.” You take a bite of slop. “Most people.”

“Not pegasi. We don’t have to worry about the temperature unless it’s raining or goes below 0.”

“Wait. Hold up a sec. So you’re telling me, pegasi don’t get cold unless it’s below 0?”

“Most of the time,” Spitfire cuts in.

‘Well shit. Reckon that explains why Celestia never gets cold.’

“Comes in handy during winter shows or when I used to be on the weather team in Cloudsdale,” Spitfire continues. “Of course, when you’re flying, it gets colder a lot faster because of the wind chill, so we usually wear scarves or something.”

“Just a scarf?” you ask.

Spitfire nods.

“That’s nothing,” Griff adds. “Gryphons never wear clothing, and we live even further from the equator than you guys do.”

“Well, humans are not built for that kind of extreme weather, so we wear clothes. Is that a problem?”

“No. You just look ridiculous.”

Everypony nods in confirmation.

“I’d rather look ridiculous than freeze to death.”

“So you wear clothes all the time, then?” Soarin’ asks. “Even when you’re not at Celestia’s parties or things like that?”  

You nod.

        “Really? I thought Celestia just made you get dressed up for those parties.”

        “Well she does, but I always wear something. Where I’m from, everyone wears some form of clothing most of the time, especially in a public setting.”

        “Why?”

        “So we don’t die, Soarin’. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not as hairy as you guys or have feathers and shit.”

        Everypony nods.

        “How’s Celestia doing?” Spitfire asks, stoking the fire to keep it going.

        You haven’t talked about Celestia is a long time. Nopony in your Century has asked about her, so you haven’t said anything about your argument.

        It wasn’t a big deal anyway. At least, you still don’t think so. Something as dumb as one simple argument should not have ended everything.

        At least, you really hope not. But there is always a chance that she ended it, and you just don’t realize it. God knows what she’s doing back in Canterlot at this very moment.

        Everypony in camp, including all the gryphons and zebras and minotaurs, already know you are courting Celestia, so that has not been a topic of conversation. Which is nice. It’s nice not to think about it for a while.

        You shrug. “She’s good, I guess.”

        “You guess?” she asks. “Haven’t you been writing her?”

        No. You have not been. Ever since you left, you have not sent nor received a single letter from any being in this world. The last thing Celestia told you was to leave, and you did.

        “Nope,” you respond honestly, though you probably should have lied, taking another bite of food. Your tray is almost empty now. “Haven’t talked to anypony.”

        “What?” Spitfire asks. “But why? She’s probably worried sick about you!”

        You tilt your head to one side, then the other in contemplation. “I doubt that.”

        “Why?”

        You shrug. “I’m sure if she really wants to talk to me, she’ll write me.”

“Oh come on!”

“Relax, Spitfire,” Soarin’ jumps in. “No need to get so heated. It’s not our business.”

She ignores him. “Why haven’t you talked to her?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say.

“Spitty, really,” Soarin’ adds again, “it’s not our-”

“Seriously, dude!” Spitfire almost shouts.

You feel your frustration level rising. You haven’t thought about Celestia in a long time, and it has been wonderful. Now Spitfire is forcing you to talk about her, and you just don’t want to. You just want to eat in peace.

“You’re miles away from her, haven’t seen her in weeks, and you won’t even send her a letter?”

You nod.

“Can you imagine how she feels?! She’s probably stressed beyond belief, and worried sick over you, and you can’t even send her a letter?! She’s the Princess! The most important pony in Equestria, and you’re just causing her problems! Like she doesn’t already have enough to deal with!”

You’re head hurts.

        “I think I’m done,” you say, standing up and tossing your tray to the side and into the snow.

        Without another word, you walk away from the two ponies and one gryphon. Maybe it’s time for you to check up on your soldiers.

==========

        It was a tad rude to walk away like you did, but you couldn’t sit there any longer. Thinking about Celestia just made you sad and frustrated on levels you haven’t felt in a very long time. You’ll have to apologize to everypony for walking away like that, but that can wait for another time.

        It was for the best, though. Either you walked away or you would have gotten angry and started yelling at Spitfire, and you didn’t want to do that.

        Now you’re sitting with your three best friends.

        The four of you are sitting around the fire and talking, just as you always have.

        The entire camp smells awful. You don’t know why you’re just noticing that now.

        A camp full of unbathed animals tends to smell bad after a day. But it’s been a week.

        Even you smell bad. Not as bad as some of the creatures roaming around, but pretty bad. There are a few shower stalls around the camp, but the water is cold and the air is cold and you hate being cold.

        So most ponies just choose to smell bad, which is bearable.

        “So he asks me, ‘Mace, what are you doing in my house?’ So then I say, ‘You forgot your blueberry pie at the fair!’” Mace smiles like an idiot as he finishes telling another story that didn’t seem to go anywhere.

        You weren’t listening to any of it except for that last sentence, so you don’t respond. And by Sherman and Pike’s silence, you’re guessing they are just as uninterested as you are.

        “Oh, I got tons of ‘em,” Mace says, continuing to talk. “You guys want to hear some chemistry jokes?”

        You’re lost in your thoughts, and are only slightly aware of what Mace is saying. Once again, nopony responds, but that doesn’t stop him from talking.

        “Potassium went on a date with oxygen today... It was OK.”

        You guess that was the punchline.

        “That’s strange, though. I thought oxygen was dating magnesium... OMG.”

        It surprises you that he said that. You were unaware that ponies had abbreviations, considering they cannot text.

        “Actually, oxygen first asked nitrogen out, but nitrogen was all like... NO.”

        Mace chuckles to himself.

        “You’re an idiot,” Pike finally says before Mace can continue on with these endless jokes.

        “Don’t worry!” Mace exclaims. “I’ve got plenty more!”

        “We don’t want to hear them.”

        You roll your eyes.

        “Why can’t you just be quiet like Pike?” you ask Mace, gesturing to Pike.

        “You want me to be like Pike?!” Mace almost shouts. “He’s a psychopath!”

        “No. He’s just quiet.”

        “It’s always the quiet ones who snap. And when they snap, they crackle and pop. And that’s when the murdering begins.”

        “You’re retarded,” Pike jumps in to defend himself.

        “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Pike. You’re just fucking insane.”

        “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll love you forever,” Sherman says, rubbing Pike’s back.

        “I’ll love you five-ever. That’s more than forever.” Mace sticks his tongue out at Sherman.

        “I hate you guys,” Pike mumbles.

        Sherman, as he usually does when there is nothing else to do, levitates a cigar out of nowhere, along with a pack of matches.

        He strikes a match, lights the cigar, and takes a few puffs from it.

        “Can you not do that next to me?” Pike asks, scooting away from Sherman. “It’d be great if I don’t get cancer.”

        “You won’t get cancer from sitting next to me,” Sherman responds, puffing on his cigar again.

        “Still, I’d like to live beyond the age of 30.”

        “You are aware that we’re in the army, right? In the next few days, we’re probably going to be dead.”

        “Not me!” Mace joins in, possibly in an attempt to stop Sherman and Pike’s bickering. “I’ve got a four-leaf clover in my helmet lining!” He smiles confidently, as though the piece of grass will protect him from swords and arrows.

        “Why do you always smoke next me?” Pike asks, ignoring Mace.

        “‘Cause you’re always sitting next to me, I guess.”

You begin to daydream as they fight. They argue over the most trivial things, and they do it so often, that it has just become common background noise.        

        “I think they’re in love,” Mace says quietly to you, gesturing to Sherman and Pike.

        “How do you figure?” you whisper back.

        “They fight just for the sake of fighting. I mean, who does that?”

        “Boxers.”

        “But boxers fight with their hooves. They just bicker like an old married couple.”

        You yawn. “Sure. I guess they do.”

You were not paying attention to what was said, but Sherman clearly got pissed, as he is now walking away.

“Hey!” Mace shouts. “Where are you going?!” He turns to face you. “Where is he going?”

You shrug.

“Where is he going?” Mace asks Pike.

“I don’t know,” Pike responds, confused. “He just kinda... left.”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t know.”

        “Lieutenant!” a voice calls out from behind you. You turn slightly and see a private rapidly approaching.

        You stand up to face him. “Yes?”

        “Officer’s of the First Legion are to report to General’s tent immediately!”

        You thank and dismiss him before he runs off, assumingly to find the rest of the officers in your Legion.

        “I’ll see you guys later,” you say, glancing back to Pike and Mace.

        “What about Sherman?” Mace asks.

        “I’m sure I’ll see him too. He probably has a lot on his mind, so just give him a while to cool down.”

        You begin your walk to Maximus tent.

        It is probably for the best that Sherman is left alone for a while. When you got mad earlier, you just wanted to be left alone for a while, and it helped.

        You don’t know why Sherman got upset. He’s is usually a pretty calm and collected guy. He’s probably just stressed. A lot of ponies probably are.

==========

You approach General Maximus’ massive tent where other familiar officers from the First Legion are waiting outside. As you get closer, a large group of zebras and ponies exit the tent, and the First Legion officers begin to enter, you following behind them.

“Officers,” a gruff voice greets.

You, and the officers of the First Legion who are with you, snap to attention upon hearing your general’s familiar voice.

“At ease. Come. We have much to discuss.”

The tent is rather large. The inside can probably fit two dozen ponies, which is probably more than it seems. The tent is practically empty, except for the large table at the other end of the room, which is smothered in a giant mess of battlemaps and other papers.

Maximus walks around the table to stand behind it, and you stop on the opposite side from him. You allow the crowd of pony officers to stand directly in front of the table, and you stand behind them. Luckily, your height allows you to see over them, so you can easily see all the maps from the back of the small crowd.

Maximus gestures to the map. On one side of the map is a series of blue boxes, indicating where the Equestrian forces are lined up. On the opposite side is a series of red boxes, representing the absent Destrierian army.

“I have just received word that Destrierian forces are only a day’s march from here, and they are heading straight for us.”

Just as planned.

Maximus points to the far left of the series of blue boxes. “This is where the First Legion shall be deployed, tomorrow. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” everyone responds simultaneously.

“I wanted to meet with all of you privately.”

‘What? Why?’

“As you should know, the left flank is the most crucial part of the line. If the left flank is turned, we’re in trouble.

“As officers in the First Legion, all of you will be leading the Legionnaires in the defense of the left flank. So I wanted you to know that you have the most important job. Do not let that flank get turned. You will hold until the last stallion.”

“Yes, sir!” is the reply.

“Good. Now that that’s out of the way, we can begin going over the order of battle.”

Maximus spends the next several minutes explaining what he believes the Destrierians are going to do. How they will line up, when they will attack, how they will attack, and how you are going to have to respond.

The battle is going to begin in the air, as most battles do.

Pegasi and gryphons will be launched to attack their air forces and ground forces.

Maximus reminds you all that you are fighting a defensive battle in a defensive war. There is no reason for you to attack them at any point. Just hold your ground, make them attack you, and make them regret it.

“The cavalry reports that the Destrierian forces are totalling between 50 and 60,000. But do not let that deter you. What we lack in numbers we make up for in skill and cause. Remember this: You are defending your homes. Your wives, and children, and your whole damn nation is dependant on you. You will not let them down.”

“Yes, sir!” is the chorus of replies.

“Dismissed.”

All the officers of the First Legion trickle out of the tent as other officers from a different legion just begin to enter.

One officer that happens to be passing you is a familiar pegasus.

“Hey, Spitfire,” you greet, cautiously.

She greets you by name, as well.

“Ahem. Look, I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to get so upset, you know? I’ve just been under a lot of pressure and this military thing is pretty new to me and-”

“Hey, it’s alright,” she laughs. “I get it. You’re sorry... But you shouldn’t be. I didn’t mean to go sticking my snout in your private life. I was just curious, is all. A little too curious.”

You smile. “That’s fine. But I really did overreact, so I’m still apologizing, no matter what you think.”

She smiles back at you. “Accepted, then.”

“Thanks, Spitfire.” You turn to begin your journey back to your tent.

Spitfire calls your name from behind you.

“Hmm?” you ask, turning around to look at her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks, still smiling.

“Yeah. See ya tomorrow.”

She goes into Maximus’ tent.

You go to find yours.

==========

        You walk along the narrow paths of your dark camp. The only light provided is an occasional torch or Luna’s moon and stars high above your head.

        ‘Homesick’ is a strange word to describe how you currently feel. First you left your house in the realm of man, then you left your house in the world of magic and happiness.

        And in both cases, the choice to leave was not of your own volition.

        If you had the choice that rainy night to drive to your friend’s house or crash your car, almost die, and do end up in some strange, mystical world, you would have elected to drive to your friend’s house.

        No doubt.

        Of course, you soon changed your mind about that, as evidence by you still being in Equestria and assimilating into their culture.

        If you had the choice almost a month ago to stay sleeping in your bed with the mare you love more than anything or being woken up, forced to leave to go fight a war, and, as you just learned a couple hours ago, break up with her, you would have chosen to stay asleep.

        No doubt.

        You assume you won’t be changing your mind about that.

        The narrow pathways that are lined in between the tents of officers are abandoned at this time of night. Everypony should be asleep or almost asleep at this point. Excluding those who have picket duty and are guarding the camp, of course. They have to stay up all night.

        All the tents look the same to you. They are small, white, and barely large enough to fit you. Putting on or taking off your armor in the tent is a hassle, simply because you cannot stand straight up. You have to hunch your back to keep your head from tearing through the roof.

        Luckily, remembering your tent’s location, you find it in a matter of minutes, open the flap, and crouch inside.

        “There you are,” Griff says, squinting open an eye to look at you, but not physically moving other than that. “Why’d you get so pissed, dude?”

        You sigh. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to think about it.”

        “Whatever.” He rolls over in his bed. “You should probably talk to Spitfire tomorrow, though. She didn’t mean to get you so heated.”

        “I already did,” you strip down to your long underwear, which is one of the only things that keep you alive at night. “We just had an officers meeting. You go?”

        “I’ve been here,” he says, voice muffled because of his face in his pillow. “Stop lying. We didn’t have a meeting.”

        You sit down on your ‘bed.’

        Your bed is basically just a sleeping bag, and luckily, you got one that actually fits you.

        “Yes we did, Griff.” You pull the covers over you. “Everypony was there. I even saw a few other gryphon officers. And the zebras too. Basically everyone except you.”

        You lie down.

        Not more than a second after finishing your sentence then do you hear loud snoring erupt from the body next to yours.

        One may initially think this is Griff pretending to be asleep, but no. That is how he actually sounds when he sleeps.

        The first night you shared a tent, you thought it was funny. Now it’s annoying and you have to debate with yourself every night on whether or not you should murder him. But you don’t.

        It has been difficult to sleep without the gentle, soothing sound of Celestia’s breathing, but you have been managing. You miss her so much.

        You shake your head and close your eyes, more than ready for this day to be over.

==========

        “Take a seat!” your father happily requests. “We’re about to eat.”

        ‘What?’

“Sit here,” your mother says, pulling a chair out for you.

        ‘For what?’

Without conscious movement, you glide towards the chair and sit. The chair seems to scoot itself in towards the table, which is barren.

        Before you can ask what’s happening, food appears all over the table. Turkey, mashed potatoes, ham, stuffing, rolls, gravy, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and a casserole suddenly appear in front of you.

        Even your previously empty plate is now filled with a generous portion of each food, much to your confusion. Even your empty glass is now full. The table is set and dinner is served.

        “Happy thanksgiving!” your family all says at the same time before they begin eating.

        Despite your confusion, you begin to eat as well. The food is real. It feels like food, tastes like food, so it must be food.

        “We missed you so much, sweetie,” your mom says, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your forehead. “We were so afraid something happened to you.”

        ‘What?’

For whatever reason, you can’t talk. You’re trying to talk, but everything you want to say just comes across as a thought and nothing more.

        “We started looking for you right after the accident,” your father says. “When the car was recovered, but you weren’t inside, we assumed the worst.”

        Your mother sniffles. “But we never stopped looking for you. And now look! You’re back where you belong. With your family.”

        ‘With my family.’

“I missed you, mom,” you finally say, tears coming to your eyes. “You too, dad.” You sniffle, trying to retain yourself. “I missed you guys so much. I love you.”

        Your parents immediately burst into tears at you saying that, and they move to hug you. They wrap you up in their arms and you let them. It feels like it has been forever since you’ve felt this. You’re warm and happy and right where you belong.

        The hug breaks and they return to their seats.

        “Sweetie?” your mom asks, causing you to look at her. “I know it’s been a long time, but that movie you ordered from netflix arrived. Would you like to watch that with us tonight?”

        ‘Damn! That was so long ago!’

“Absolutely, ma,” you reply. “That sounds great.”

        She smiles and everyone returns to eating.

        The food was just as good as you have always remembered it to be, and within a matter of glorious minutes, it is all gone.

        Feeling a pressure in your stomach, you get up.

        “I’mma use the bathroom, right quick.”

        They nod at you and you begin the short journey to the bathroom. On your way there, the walls around you melt, the roof above you turns black, and the floor underneath you disappears.

        But you’re still walking.

        “What the hell?” you ask yourself. You look back to your table, but it’s not there anymore. You look to the pictures on the wall, but they’re not there anymore.

        Everything around you is black. Everything. It is all just a black expanse of nothing.

        “But I was... what?”

        A familiar voice calls your name. You turn around and see a sad face.

        “Damnit Luna!” you shout, feeling angry as one possibly could in such a situation. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I? Aren’t I?!”

        “Yes,” she responds simply and evenly.

        “What did I tell you about coming into my dreams?!”

        “We know what you requested, and We would not disturb your rest if it was not of any importance.”

        “Change it back.”

        “... Come again?”

        “I said, change it back!” you shout. You don’t think you’ve ever yelled at Luna before. “My family was right over there! I saw them! I talked to them! They talked to me! God damnit, Luna! Did you not see how happy I was?!”

        “We did.”

        “Then change it back and get out!”

        “SILENCE!” she shouts in the Royal Canterlot Voice, stopping your angry tirade in its’ tracks. “We did not wish to use the Royal Canterlot Voice, but if you are going to act like a foal, then you leave us no choice!”

        You take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

        “Why are you here, Luna?” you ask. “Celestia has made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want to be with me anymore, and I’m already aware that there is a war going on. We have nothing to talk about.”

        Luna quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head to the side. “What do you mean, ‘my sister does not wish to be with you’? Twas merely an argument, you shared. From what I’ve observed, that is quite common in this day and age.”

        “Don’t play dumb, Luna. If anypony knows about it, it’s you.”

        “Know about what?”

        “Who is that stallion Celestia is seeing?”

        “... Stallion?”

        You sigh. “Do you read the newspaper, Luna?”

        “No.”

        “Well that almost explains that. I read the newspaper earlier and it basically said Celestia is going out with some other stallion. Kinda looks like Blueblood.”

        “We confess, We have no idea what you’re talking about, but We believe you’re assumptions are false.”

        “You sure about that?” you ask doubtfully.

        “If my sister was courting another, We like to think she would have alerted Us.”

        “When Celestia and I first started dating, we didn’t tell anypony for a couple weeks.”

        “That is true. May We ask, where did you get the impression my sister was courting this stallion, you speak of?”

        “It was in the back of a newspaper I read this afternoon.”

        “You were reading the gossip column?”

        “Uhm. Maybe?”

        Luna sighs and rolls her eyes. “Then it is mere speculation. 1,000 years ago, there was no gossip when it came to official news. Why ponies these days insist on fabricating rumors about royalty and celebrities is beyond Us, but We assure you, whatever you read was false. Simply ponies thinking out loud.”

        “So... it’s just a rumor?”

        “Perhaps. Gossip is for the small minded, and there seems to be a great abundance of such ponies these days. But once in a new moon, what the simple minded speculate just happens to be correct.”

        Now you’re really confused.

        Are you dating? Or did you break up?

        “Then did we break up?” you ask Luna.

        “We cannot say for sure. We are sorry.”

        It’s probably best to think about this later. Dwelling on this is only making you more stressed, which will not help you with the upcoming battle.

        “You shall be engaged in battle soon. Correct?” Luna asks.

        “Yep.”

        She walks forward, and slowly pulls you in for a hug, wrapping her wings around you. You return the gesture with your arms.

        Despite being in your head, the contact feels real. She is just as warm and soft as she always has been.

        “Then We wish you luck. War is not particularly enjoyable, but you will get through it.”

        Those are the most encouraging words Luna has ever told you.

        “It is time for you to wake.”

        You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to.”

        “We know.”

        “Is there a way I can see Celestia? Before I wake up?”

        Luna breaks the hug and just looks at you for a moment, no expression on her face.

        “No.”

        Before you can respond, Luna’s horn touches your forehead.

==========

        
You jolt up in bed.

        Looking around, you realize you are in the same tent you were in last night.

        ‘God damnit, Luna!’

        Just then, a captain, fully geared up for battle, pokes his head in your tent.

        “Get up! Get your gear! Get formed! Get out!”

        He retreats out of the tent.

        Griff mumbles something in his sleep before turning over in his bed.

        ‘This is it.’

You stand up and get your armor on. As difficult as this task used to be, you’ve done it so much over the past year or so that you can do this without even consciously thinking about it. Halfway through putting your chest plate on, you kick Griff in his side.

        “Fuggoff,” he slurs, curling into a ball.

        “Griff,” you say, “get the hell up.” You kick him again.

        “OK, OK, stop touching me,” he turns over and begins to get up.

        “Can you tie this for me?” you ask, squatting and turning around and showing him the straps of your armor.

        He yawns. “Yeah, sure.”

        After getting tied off, Griff puts on the minimal amount of armor gryphons wear. Gryphons need to fly, so to increase aerodynamics, he wears less armor. Simple physics.

        You put on your helmet and walk outside the tent.

        A horn blares throughout the camp signalling everypony to get in formation.

        In front of you, perhaps two or three miles away, stands the whole Destrierian army. It looks a lot bigger than you originally thought. From this distance, they only look like a blur, but they’re a massive blur.

        Griff punches your shoulder with a clenched claw. “Game time, bud,” he says, beginning to leave to get his soldiers formed up. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

        You swallow. “Yeah, man. See you later.”

        You rush to get your soldiers, get them in formation, and prepare them for battle.