//------------------------------//
// The Trojan Horse 
// Story: The Campaign for Extra Trixie, and other unlikely experiments 
// by Impossible Numbers 
//------------------------------//

It was, very simply, a wooden horse.

Not that anypony looking out beyond the white wall would have noticed. Even under the moonlight, the plains beyond the city watchtowers were black. There was only the suggestion of an outline that would, if it had not been the size of a castle and as blocky as a stack of timber, have passed for a pony.

Nothing could be heard except for the revelry of the distant pegasus camp, but the unicorns had gotten used to it now, and simply passed it off as ambience. There were no noises on the southwesterly wind, but in any case the ears of the citizens were still ringing with the blasts of magic and the crashes of lightning from the last few weeks.

Behind the walls were empty streets and silent houses. It was as if the country's stone and thatched roof villages had been picked up and crammed into whatever space the fortress had left, and the citizens were simply too scared to so much as sneeze. Some of the roofs had long since caved in, like decayed teeth finally collapsing under all that plaque. 

Amid all this was a conical tower. As it stood on a hill, the slopes of which were black with scorched grass, it strongly resembled a unicorn's horn, with the giant pushing its head through the otherwise flat plain. Tiny lights flickered at windows. The whole edifice had a coiled shape rather like a seashell. Occasionally, the tip flashed like a lighthouse as whoever was on duty broadcast a message down to the watchtowers.

The unicorns on watchtower duty were slow in responding. There had been no interesting fights with the pegasi since the stalemate had begun.

They'd seen the horse. Both guards stared down from their watchtowers at the thing, but the horse did not move.

After six hours of musical statues, albeit without the music, it occurred to them that somepony should go and have a look at it. They lowered the portcullis and switched on their horn lights before descending the steps. There were perks to being magic-crafters, and unicorns had advantages in the dark.

Both lights approached the wooden horse. It didn't snap to life or suddenly explode, which disappointed them slightly. They'd seen the slaves of the enemy pegasi wheel it along and then leave it for them to stare at, and they privately felt it was bad form for an enemy to leave things that didn't try to kill you. It was like having a tennis opponent who wouldn't serve.

A third light came out to join them, accompanied by the outlines of two earth ponies in chains. Not that there were many unicorns awake in the city, but if there had been, their ears might have detected, under the oppressive silence, three voices speaking to each other. There were lots of pauses. None of the voices seemed sure of themselves, even when they shouted at the earth ponies to run back for them.

An hour passed. The pegasus camp exploded with laughter once or twice as the grape juice continued to flow and the knock-knock jokes suddenly became inexplicably funny, if rather unflattering to the earth pony servants helping the grape juice along.

Lights came out to join the three outside the unicorn fortress, accompanied by some more earth ponies in chains. And then the earth ponies were sent back, and the next group of rattling chains came down and were sent back, and a complicated game of back-and-forth played out. This was because the guards, aristocrats, and military officers of the city were trying to work out the appropriate way to react to an enemy erecting wooden statues at them.

Somepony seemed to reach a decision. All the earth ponies were shouted back into the fortress. As one, the lights encircled the horse and flickered out.

Then, as one, aura after aura lit up around the wooden horse and its body glowed with a spectrum of magical colours. The entire monstrosity rose slightly off the grass. Groans and pants accompanied it like a procession that had been cobbled together at the last minute, and the lot cruised through the open gates. The two guards clambered up the stone steps. Later, the portcullis slammed shut.

The plains became awfully quiet. A thud shook the ground, as several tons of timber hit the dirt. Silence, as it does, settled down again.

The pegasus camp suddenly burst out in applause, completely oblivious to what was going on, but fully aware that somepony had just broken the "drop the earth pony from the greatest height and maybe catch it before it hits the ground" record. Nopony noticed that the slaves had suddenly disappeared.

From the edges of the fortress can the sounds of rattling chains. A few whispered voices and careful hoofsteps could be made out, but in the darkness it was impossible to see, and it faded away. Silence, once again, settled on the unicorn fortress.

Eventually, somepony discovered the "on" switch.

When the sun finally rose on the plains that spanned from horizon to horizon, its beams revealed no city, no walls, no hill, and no camp. Instead, there was only a smoking crater, surrounded by stretches of ash and charred turf. The screams, the creaking of giant cogs, and the explosions from the night before had long since faded beyond the range of pony hearing, and the air stank of sulphur. If anypony had been left, and if they'd looked carefully at the horizon, beyond the shimmering mirage, they'd have just made out the silhouettes of fleeing and flying figures.

Nopony remembered the giant hoofprints. They were hard to make out among the rubble, but they were there if you knew what to look for. Not even the earth ponies, when they came late afternoon to peer over the remains, could spot them. They hadn't been sent to spot the hoofprints. Their only job was to see the rubble, spot the unicorns and pegasi fleeing over the horizon, nod their heads, and leave.

History tends to focus on what the other two tribes did after that. Nopony seems to know what happened to the wooden horse. It wasn't mentioned for centuries except in one rather obscure academic paper, which was subsequently lost and forgotten about. Several centuries passed, which were interesting enough to pass the time but overall had a lot in common with a carousel.

It's often said that history is written by the winners. But there's no rule against losers occasionally holding the pen.