//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2 
// Story: A Pony Born to Fight 
// by WyvernQueen 
//------------------------------//

I have an hour before I have to be at the Palace. The streets of Canterlot are crowded with tourists, residents and military ponies. Low rank, mostly—all the higher ups will be socializing with the Princesses. Hopefully, none of them will recognize me without my armor on. It’s at the blacksmith’s, getting repaired, since to get it off the last time they had to cut it off me. Today it’s finally ready for pickup; a good thing, too, since I have to wear it to the ceremony.
The blacksmith’s is a little ways away, but since I have time I can afford to stroll. In the six (seven, counting this trip) times I’ve been to Canterlot, I’ve never really walked anywhere. I’ve cantered and galloped but never walked. The view is actually quite pleasant, more so than I thought it would be. I stop and admire a stone statue depicting Princess Celestia battling Nightmare Moon, the stone so well-carved it almost looks real. Suddenly, I hear rapid hoofbeats behind me, and I spin around to see exactly what I had been trying to avoid.

A yellow pony in full armor (a private first class, given his shoulder insignia) and his two friends (privates, since their shoulders are bare) skid to a stop in front of me, looking highly excited. Inwardly, I sigh. Outwardly, my face remains neutral as I ask, “Is there a problem, sir?”

Hopefully he’ll think that since I didn’t call him by his rank I’m not military. He just grows more excited and says, “Aren’t you Ghost Anlace? You’re a hero! I’ve heard so many stories about you!”

No such luck; my scars and forelock set me apart as a military pony better than any armor or badge ever could. The yellow pony bounces up and down in a not-very-dignified way, and if his friends’ eyes get any bigger they’ll pop. I nod, shuffling to the side in an attempt to escape, but it’s too slow. The yellow pony pulls out a piece of paper from nowhere along with a quill, and hold them out to me with a pleading look. 

I sigh. “I don’t do autographs, Private. I’m not a movie star, I’m a warrior. Now, if you really want something from me, don’t tell anyone else you saw me here until tomorrow. Then you can yell to everypony that you shook Ghost Anlace’s hoof.”

It sounds so self-conceited, and I wince internally, but I can’t take it back now. The private doesn’t seem offended, though. I hold my hoof out (the healthy one) to shake. He takes it almost reverently, and when I let go he backs off a few steps. His friends hold their hands out for shakes before I can bolt, and I go through the same process. As soon as the second pony lets go, I start to gallop away. Thank Celestia they don’t make too much of a scene—when I look back, all three of them are actually saluting. I soon lose them in the crowd.
After a few blocks I resume walking, but this time I keep to the inside of the sidewalk and don’t stop to admire any other art. Twenty minutes later I arrive at the blacksmith’s. The Red Anvil, according to the sign. When I walk in my nose is assaulted by the smell of liquid metal and steaming water. I start to cough, trying to find a pony in the maze of metal objects in various states of repair.

A red pony appears under my nose, and while I just twitch a little, he yelps and skitters back. 

“Who—who’re you?” he stammers. 

“My name is Ghost Anlace. I’m here to pick up my armor that I left here a couple of months ago. Is it ready?” I ask the question even though I got a notice informing me that the armor was, in fact, ready, just to give the younger stallion a chance to collect himself.
“Uh—yeah. Mr. Anvil is putting the finishing touches on it now. I can show you to him if you don’t mind the clutter. My name’s Plover, by the way. Cobalt Plover. I’m Mr. Anvil’s assistant, learning the trade and all.”

He sticks out his hoof and I grab it. One firm pump and then he lets go, weaving his way through dangerously unstable-looking piles of sharp metal items. I follow close behind, trying not to knock anything over. In a mercifully short amount of time we come to a clear area where a huge bronze stallion is examining a set of armor on a stand. My heart leaps at the sight of my fully repaired gear—the gashes in the golden metal have been closed, the dents popped back into place, and my Cutie Mark and my Captain’s insignia have been redone. 
Cobalt clears his throat, and suddenly the bronze pony looks up. Cobalt introduces me before the bronze pony can say anything. “Mr. Anvil, this is Ghost Anlace. He’s here to pick up his armor.”

Mr. Anvil gives me a searching look, as if he’s trying to place me from somewhere. Before he can say anything, I walk to him and hold out my hoof. “A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Anvil. You’ve done a fine job with my armor—it looks almost better than before.”

He smiles ever so slightly and returns the shake. “I remember you. You’re the war hero, right? Dropped off your armor and didn’t come check on it until today. I appreciate that. It’s always nice to have the trust of my customers. It’s ready to go, and since you’ve already paid you can go ahead and put it on.”

With no parting words he abruptly turns and disappears into the maze of metal that surrounds us. Cobalt shakes his head and follows, pointing to a wide path leading in the opposite direction of where we came. “That’ll take you to the back door, since I’m guessing you don’t want to be going out front with that on.” Then he, too, walks through an opening in the piles and is gone.

It takes me five minutes to properly strap my armor, and I take a few experimental kicks to test the flexibility. It actually is better than before—Mr. Anvil must have used an alloy for the plating, because it feels much lighter. After suiting up, I take the path Cobalt pointed out. I have twenty minutes to get to the palace without being late, which is a reasonable amount of time… unless I get stopped by more military ponies who want autographs. 
The back door opens silently to a small stone alley, which is empty. I sneak to the opening of the alley, looking out onto the street. There are too many ponies out there for me to go unnoticed, and the other end of the alley is the same. I’m about to brave the street when I find a metal ladder on one of the walls that leads to the roof. To be fair, it’s the same color of the wall, which is why I don’t see it right away.

I climb, flattening myself against the roof to prevent ponies below from seeing me. I judge the jumps from rooftop to rooftop and stand, walking backwards until I get a good distance. “It’s at times like these that I wish I was a pegasus,” I sigh, and gallop as fast as I can towards the edge. When I’m at the absolute edge of the smithy’s roof, I push with all my might. I land with a grunt on the next roof over (a bakery, I think) and manage not to stumble. I don’t stop, since the gap between this roof and the next one down is wider, which means I’ll need more speed. Instead, I use the momentum from the jump to push myself even faster, and in a second I’m halfway across the roof. 
Sweet Celestia I forgot how it felt to run full-out! In physical training they just let me jog, and I had galloped away from the yellow pony earlier, but this running is different. It feels like if I stop, I’ll go flat on my face, which only adds to the thrill. Each time I land I come close to twisting something, and my breath is labored within two minutes.

Three rooftops later and I’m close to the Palace when a shout goes up in the street. “What is that stallion doing jumping across rooftops like that, mama?” The cry comes from a colt with sharp eyes. A second later, two pegasai in armor like mine, one green and one black, have taken to the skies, yelling for me to stop. I judge the situation lightning-fast in my head: I can make the two house difference between me and the stretch of path that leads to the Palace before they stop me, if they attempt to. I can explain myself when I get into the Palace, but doing so out here would be a very bad idea.
I make it one house before the green pegasai catches up with me. He takes one look at my insignia and calls, “Captain, I’ll have to respectfully ask you to get to street level!”

They don’t recognize me, probably because my helmet covers my head and my forelock injury is masked by the armor. I grunt, not having enough breath to form words. Another house jumped, and now the black pony is beside me, saying the same thing. I’ve run out of roof, actually—the Palace is a good three hundred yards in front of me, but at street level. No time to stop, so I do the one thing that is assured to get me a ride down.

I jump off the final roof into mid-air.
The green and black pegasai don’t take long to react. Their reflexes are remarkable considering. I’ll have to get their names and ask one of the Generals to promote them. Their hooves wrap around me and their wings beat frantically, trying to slow my fall. We’re about twenty feet up, which is high enough for a pony to break something, but we’re getting closer to the ground dangerously fast. When the ground is close enough for me to count the bricks in the stone, I roll in the ponies’ grips and, surprised, they let me go. 
I hit the ground rolling and pop up, still running. The pegasai regroup and fly beside me until we arrive at the Palace. Two guards at the door, watching with mouths agape, take one look at my insignia and salute. “Sir! The ceremony is about to begin. We will escort you inside, sir!”

I nod, a little tired from the physical activity. I’m really out of shape; I’ll have to fix that. The guards open the door and I walk in, discreetly trying to get pebbles out of my hide without looking like I was. The front doors open into a large hallway, towards the back of which the ballroom resides. A purple mare and white stallion, both unicorns, are conversing at the end of the hallway, but when they see me they stop talking. I plaster on a smile and go to introduce myself, but an older, teal mare appears out of nowhere and pulls me towards the Royal ballroom, where the pre-ceremony socializing must be. The mare, who I don’t recognize, hisses, “Thank Princess Celestia you’re here! The ceremony starts in five minutes!” 

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I had to—” I begin, slightly out of breath, but she hushes me. 

I’m pulled along, nearly galloping, and it’s all I can do to keep up. At the double doors, she clears her throat, adjusts her hair and smiles. The doors open, courtesy of the guards (who followed us all the way down the corridor), and she announces, “Captain Ghost Anlace of the Seventeenth Regiment!”

The room is huge, large enough for the Wonderbolts to perform in comfortably. The walls are golden, the floor a smooth marble, and the ceiling is a beautiful rendition of Princesses Luna and Celestia raising the sun (or maybe the moon—it’s hard to tell, since the sky is orange and there is no hint of either celestial body on the horizon). Again, I’m struck by how perfect the artwork is; the picture could be real if I didn’t see Princess Celestia walking in the middle of the room. When I finally look ahead, I notice that all the ponies in the room have turn to look at me. And there are a lot of them. I’m about to take shelter in a corner (I hate being the center of attention) before Princess Luna herself walks up to greet me, her blue hair flowing in a wind that none of us seem to feel. 

“Princess, it’s an honor to meet you.” I say, bowing. She laughs, a gentle laugh that makes me smile.

“Ghost Anlace. We have heard stories of thy bravery, but thou looketh much more well-groomed than thou have been described as being. Come, the ceremony is about to begin. We would not want our star being late, hmm?” She raises her voice so that everypony can hear her. “The ceremony will be held in the throne room. If everypony could make their way there now, we will be able to commence on time.”

With surprising speed, all the ponies make their way into the throne room, which is at the end of the hallway. All the ponies in uniform stand before the thrones in a line, and when the Princesses take their seats we bow. Princess Luna will be giving the awards to us, as she is the leader of the military. She stands and levitates a box behind her. As one, we turn to face the crowd, and Princess Luna begins to give the medals. 
“Private Ryan Nougat, we award thee with the Silver Bolt for bravery in combat. Thank thee for thy service.” A silver lightning bolt floats from the box and settles on a blue pony’s armor, attaching itself there. “Private First Class Bolt Flintlock, we award thee with the Blue Cloud for exceptionally expert flying in a war zone. Thank thee for thy service.” This medal goes to a dark gray pegasus who stands a little taller when his name is called. 

She moves down the line, giving medals to those who have shown bravery in war zones, to those who have sustained injury in combat, to those with exceptional skills. Nopony has gotten more than one medal, and there is nopony over the rank of Captain in our line before the thrones. That means that I am last for Princess Luna to give a medal. To my surprise, three of them float out of the box. “Ghost Anlace, we award thee with the Silver Bolt for bravery in combat, the Purple Horn for sustaining injury during thou’st time in service, and the Princesses’ Grace for saving the lives of twelve of thy fellow soldiers. Thank thee for thy service.”

There are gasps around the room. The Princesses’ Grace is an award reserved for the bravest soldiers who perform feats of such magnitude that their names go down in history books. The last – and only – pony to have won the award before had used his magic to lift a boulder from a blocked cave entrance, saving the lives of twenty soldiers and civilians. He was almost crushed by the rock, and died a year or so later due to complications with his injury.  Stunned, I can do no more than whisper, “Thank you, Princess Luna. I look forward to going back to the battlefront as soon as possible to repay this kindness.” 
She smiles and is about to respond when the doors to the throne room slam open. Every head turns as two Zebras and ten or so guards race through the door. The Zebras, one male and one female, push through the crowd, headed straight for the Princesses. Half the warriors lined up behind Princess Luna instantly form a protective circle around her. The other half stand in front of Princess Celestia. We have no weapons, but it seems that the Zebras don’t, either, so it will be a fair fight if it comes to that.

The crowd is a mixture of fear and shock. The white stallion, who I had noticed earlier standing in the hall, protectively steps in front of Princess Cadence, who stands close to the front. The purple mare he was talking to is nowhere near them; in fact, I don’t see her at all. Many of the higher class mares shrink back from the charging Zebras in disgust, as if they have some kind of disease. The higher class stallions do the same, but try not to make it look like that’s what they’re doing. 

The Zebras climb the raised dais and do something completely unexpected. They bow to the Princesses, and when they straighten, the female starts to talk. “Greetings, Princesses Celestia and Luna. I am Nahora, advisor to King Tesuki of the Zebrae. This is Buntagi, my bodyguard. We have come with the glad tidings that the conflict between our countries is at an end.”

The shock on my face must mirror the crowd’s because they start to murmur softly. A few of the mares actually faint, and their stallions have to catch them. One unfortunate pony is almost crushed by his plump wife and her friend as they both faint almost on top of him. The other warriors on the dais look around, confused. If this is a ruse to detract out attention to the Princesses safety, it’s a good one. But Nahora seems sincere as she continues.  “The King has decided that enough blood has been shed over a petty feud, so he wishes to extend a branch of peace to Equestria. I apologize for interrupting your ceremony, but this news is of a nature that makes everything else less important. The King has sent me to ask you if you accept this peace offering.”

She bows low again, Buntagi doing the same. Princess Celestia stands, walking over to the Zebrae. I stand next to her, being closer to her than Princess Luna, so I am able to see the look of shock on her face. “Stand, Nahora, and tell me why this peace treaty has been so suddenly extended.”

Nahora stands and says, “The son of our King, Prince Haufi, was killed in battle, and upon his death the King swore to stop the fighting, whatever the cost. He now understands the grief of death and formally accepts any and all punishment you bestow upon him.”

Princess Celestia stands in thought. I wonder what kind of punishment she’ll bestow upon King Tesuki—hopefully something horrible. After a minute’s silent deliberation, Princess Celestia nods once. “I accept King Tesuki’s offering of peace, and offer in return the deepest condolences for his son,” she announces, “and declare that Prince Haufi’s death is punishment enough. I declare the war between Equestria and Africaanas over!” 

There is a beat of silence following Princess Celestia’s words, and then the room erupts into chaos. Stallions drop their unconscious wives as they crowd the steps of the dais, so many of them screaming at once that the words are inseparable. The other warriors look thunderstruck, but I think I’m the hardest hit. It takes all of my willpower to stay on my hooves, and my breath comes fast and heavy. I should feel relief that the war is over, but the only thought that runs through my head is: my purpose in life is to fight in war. But what use is a war pony if there’s no war to be had?