//------------------------------// // And That's the Simple Fact // Story: The Road to Prolegomena // by stanku //------------------------------// The strokes of a brush fill the quiet room with faint rustling as Silk String straightens her tangled raven mane. Every sweep rips some of the messed hair off, sending stinging pain over her scalp, but she keeps her face blank as the brush floats around her, hold by the glowing white aura. My mother would faint if she saw her precious little filly like this: mane in ruins, sweat and dirt on her stainless coat, bags under her eyes. The thought incites a warm smile on her full lips. You taught me to comb my mane properly long before I even knew how to spell my own name. Arch Freight might regard me vain for this, but there are some things a mare must do even in the middle of an apocalypse. One by one, the thin strands of black hair fall on the plain floor, slipping under the planks. That is what having manners means. The door to the small room opens suddenly as Arch Freight and Berryfer step hurriedly inside. “Silk!” blurts the stallion as he spots the mare sitting by the window. “Come here quickly.” “What is it?” she asks worriedly, but then she sees the earth pony colt hanging limply over the stallion’s back. The brush falls to the floor with a clack. “Bring him there,” she commands, pointing at the makeshift bed on the corner, her voice suddenly steady and assertive. “What happened?” she asks as Arch Freight lays the colt on the collection of rugs, blankets, and pillows. “We found him under the floorboards in the first floor,” he explains while giving room for the mare. “He was conscious then but as we got him out, he fainted.” Silk String kneels beside the colt, studying him intently. Breathing. Can’t be more than ten, eleven at most. Hasn’t eaten for a while, must be dehydrated, too. No external injuries to speak of. She begins to ever so gently touch the colt’s limbs, chest, head, and neck. No major bone fractures, either. As for internal bleeding, there is no way to check that, but no way to fix either, so... Finally, she checks his pulse. Not alarmingly weak, but his breathing is very shallow and raspy. He must have breathed in dust and whatever else there was under the floor. She stops her examination and turns towards Arch Freight and Berryfer, both of whom are looking at her anxiously.   “From what I can tell, he has gone through a lot, but his life isn’t in immediate danger. Still, he is very weak and needs nourishment, especially water.” She looks expectantly at Arch Freight. His anxiety gets a grim tinge. “I searched the first three storeys, but found nothing. There might be something in the first floor: we didn't search that completely.” She nods shortly. “Do that. Berryfer: you go with your father and help him. I will stay here and look after the colt.” The father and the son nod back to her and hurry to the staircase. She doesn’t watch them go, but returns immediately to her patient. When she kneels by the bed and rests her eyes on him again, she doesn’t automatically start searching for bruises and wounds, doesn’t look at him as a doctor, but as a mother. For an earth pony, he is very slim, even more so than Berryfer and not just because of hunger, I’d say. Under the heavy crust of dust, she can make out a bright yellow coat spotted with white circles, the largest ones of which cover his eyes; his closed, black rimmed eyes. His mane, even more disastrous than her's, is dark-brown, like the bark of an oak. Ponderously, her gaze wanders to his flank. Not even a cutie mark yet.     The colt coughs feebly. At first Silk String flinches, but quickly a relieved smile spreads on her mouth. He is awake. Thank Celestia, he is awake. He coughs again, stronger this time.The wheezing, agonizing breaths intensify slowly, and soon an uncontrolled seizure seizes him, wracking his whole body as a lungful after a lungful of dusty air flees him in bursts. The mare’s relief is soon extinguished as she can do nothing but watch and wait for the spasms to die down, which they inevitably do. “How are you feeling?” she asks when he can breathe somewhat normally again. Wheezing, the colt turns a flank, glancing behind him. The gasp that escapes him seems to stifle his whole body. His eyes, wide as saucers, stare at her in pure panic. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” says the mare calmly, touching his neck carefully with a hoof. “My name is Silk String. I mean no harm to you.” She soothes him for a moment, waiting his breathing to gradually grow steadier. “What is your name?” she asks warmly. He coughs weakly, eyes shimmering. “Cough?” she says in a seemingly surprised tone. “That is a strange name, but it will do for now. Would you like some water, Cough?” Cough manages to nod faintly, still staring at the mare as if she was Celestia herself. “That’s what I thought.” She dips a nearby cup into the bucket that lies on the side of the bed. She cringes as the tin scrapes at the bottom. The half-filled cup floats before the colt whose eyes are immediately drawn to it, drinking the water before it has even touched his lips. Nonetheless, he glances at the mare one more time. “Go ahead,” she urges him. He gulps the liquid down in one go. Almost immediately, another coughing seizure hits him, but this time it sounds more like normal coughing and not like somepony vomiting a gallon of sand. When his eyes open again, she can see the silent plea in them. She smiles as the rest of the water pours down his thin throat. A sad look crosses her eyes when she seems him pleading for even more. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have anymore at the moment. That water was from the bucket meant for fires, and even though there are more in the corridors, they need to be boiled first.” She sets the bucket aside. “And we can’t risk making a fire at daylight. I’m sorry.” The colt’s head droops down along with his ears. “Do you know if there is anypony else hiding in this building?” she asks. “Your parents? Friends? Neighbours?” The colt remains silent, eyes cast down. He shakes his head barely noticeably. I see. Dear Celestia… How could you let this happen? “Okay, okay… We don’t need to talk about that right now…” She bites her lip, searching for the right thing to say. “How about you rest some more, Cough? You can lie down–” “No,” says the colt suddenly, his eyes darting to her. The panic-stricken terror in them is gone, dead, replaced by a hollow conviction. “Never again. I’m not gonna lie down ever again.” In one go, he bounces up, only to stagger and fall back as his legs give away under him. Nonetheless, he tries again. “Wait, wait,” says the mare calmly, putting a hoof on his shoulder. To her astonishment, he fends it off. “No,” he says with a colorless voice. With knees shaking fervently, the colt fights to keep himself up. His brow wrinkled in concentration and jaw clenched, he stands up from the bed, panting as his eyes rise to the same level with the mare.   They are grey, she realizes. Grey as dust.   “My parents told me to lie down,” he says with a voice like from beyond the grave. “So I lied down. I stayed down. Parents didn’t come back. I stayed down. I fell asleep. I stayed down. I woke up. I tried to rise, but I couldn’t, so I stayed down. I slept some more and stayed down.” His whole body starts to shake. “I won’t lay down ever again.” His knees fail him and he stumbles on his side. Immediately he tries to get up, but the mare stops him, laying down beside him. He starts thrashing violently, but she wraps her front hooves tightly around him. He screams, but she doesn't let go, not even as he bites her. Moments go by and his resistance grows weaker, sinks into oblivion. It turns into a hopeless, heart-breaking sobbing. “Why they didn’t come back,” he cries desperately, now all limp again. “Why…” Behind him, the mare fights back her own tears and squeezes the colt even stronger. They lay there for a few minutes, lay there as if there was nothing else left to do in the world. Then she floats the brush over to her. And starts combing his mane.                                                      *** Outside Canterlot, among the rows of tents and training yards, necks are craned and eyes turn as Princess Cadance, accompanied by two unicorn guards of the Crystal Kingdom, walks by. Uncertain bows pave her way in a seemingly random manner along with mutterings of “My Princess” and “Princess Cadance”, but most of the soldiers can only stare in awe as the light-pink alicorn steps among them, smiling her ever so delicate smile. Behind her, the looks turn away only after the last glimpse of her tail has vanished among the colorful tents and the crowd. Before her, miscellaneous crates and other obstacles are quickly removed before she has even considered circling them. As she arrives at the edge of the camp, a group of Crystal Kingdom guards practically jumps in the air as they notice her presence. After a quiet struggle, one of them, a sergeant, is pushed among their ranks to meet her. “Princess Cadance!” he says loudly and stiffly, standing in flawless attention. “We were not informed of your coming!”   Cadance stops a few meters from him, her smile turning from royal to royally empathetic in a flash. “That is because I didn't allow my presence to be announced. You can lower your hoof now.” The stallion sets down his right foreleg, his every move plagued by rigidness. “Your Highness… We were actually informed that you might respect us with a visit one of these days…” For a moment, his words get lost into her deep purple eyes. “Um… On such a joyful occasion, we were instructed to guide you to the Supreme Commander’s personal tent right away!” he finally manages to say in one breath. The Princess lets him sweat for a moment under her gaze that radiates nothing but kindness and understanding. Truly, Armor? Did you truly make every officer in the camp memorize that litany, just in the case I might pay a visit here? What for, I wonder… “So have I heard,” she says pleasantly. “Unfortunately, after a wearisome travel all the way from the Crystal Kingdom, a tent doesn’t sound as the most attractive option to me at the moment. Rather, I would be thrilled to straighten out my poor cramped legs a bit.” Her eyes move past the sergeant and to the wooden fortification that stands behind him, reaching a height of about five meters. Atop it, guards try their best not to look at the scene below. The sergeant clears his throat. “I’m afraid that will not do, Your Highness. We are under strict orders that do not allow us to open the gate except for scouts and by the Supreme Commander’s explicit order.” His chin rises up a centimeter. Her smile remains glowing. “Oh, but I intend to do just that!” He blinks. “Excuse me, Your Highness?” “To scout a bit,” she explains in a conspiratorial tone, keeping her eyes nailed at him. “I'd just kill for a peek at the city, if you know what I mean.” The sergeant swallows. “Your Highness… Please… I cannot let you pass.” She sighs deeply and for a moment, turns her radiant eyes away, the smile thinning on her lips. “Look… I could just make this easy for both of us and fly over that little fence, but that wouldn’t be the optimal outcome for either of us.” She looks at him again, unsmiling. “However, that is exactly what I'm going to do unless you'd be so kind as to open that gate for me.” One last pleading look is all she gets from him. As a response of sorts, she gives him a smile. And spreads her wings. “Your Highness, no!” blurts the sergeant, but before he can do nothing else, she has already crossed the ramparts with a few effortless beats of her magnificent wings. The unicorn curses as Cadance’s personal guards rush past him and onto the fortifications. When he himself gets there, along with the rest of the guards that happened to be nearby, he spots Cadance standing absolutely still some twenty meters away from the wall. She is staring straight ahead of herself, to Canterlot that lays a kilometer or two from them, rests against the mountainside like it has done for the last thousand years. The magical city, the enchanted city, the eternal city. It’s a ruin. It’s all a ruin. An unbelieving gasp flees her mouth as her eyes witness the destruction that, even from afar, is evidently catastrophic. So this is what Armor tried to save me from. This is the truth that the letters couldn't convey. This… travesty… is Canterlot. She becomes faintly aware of the shouts that carry from behind the wall. Soon, the gate opens and Shining Armor, dressed in his mail, steps through. He blinks as he sees Cadance. “Stay here,” he says quietly to the guards behind him and walks steadily to his wife. “Cadance,” he begins when he gets next to her. “Forgive me. I didn’t want you to see it like this.” Her eyes remain on the city basking in the sunlight, in the perfect rays of the summer sun. “This was the only way I could find out,” she says quietly. “There is no proper way to explain it. You could've done nothing differently.” He looks at her carefully, searching for signs of grief, of terror, of hate from her beautiful face. None can be found. “We should go back now. It’s not safe out here.” “I always thought the Castle would look better without the Western Tower,” she says. “But now that it’s really gone… I can’t remember what it actually looked like." She gives him a blank look. “I can’t remember it.” A tear most fragile falls on her cheek. Despite the eyes that he knows are staring at them, despite the devastation that spreads before them, Armor can’t constrain himself any longer. His hooves wrap tightly around her, trapping her into an intimate embrace. “I missed you,” he whispers to her ear. “I missed you so much.” Another tear emerges even as the first one hits the ground. “Likewise, Shine. Likewise…” She responds to his caring hug by squeezing back even stronger. “Cadance… I swear, for the love I bear towards you, we will avenge the city. We will avenge everypony. I swear it.” He speaks as if he was in pain. Cadance lets go of him. She gives him a sad, yearning look. “Was it really the sight of the city that you tried to shield me from?” she asks. He looks at her in confusion. “I… Of course… Why you ask?” “Never mind,” she says finally, averting his gaze. “I've seen enough.” She turns away and trots to the gate. Before following her, Armor looks at Canterlot, or what’s left of it. A shade travels past his eyes, his eyes blue as a mountain lake. He snorts and turns his back to the sight. After they have walked through the camp to his tent, Shining Armor turns to face both his and Cadance’s personal guards. “Unless the sky itself falls apart, you will make sure that we are not disturbed for the next hour.” He gives each one of the four unicorns a stern look. “Yes, Supreme Commander,” they say in unison. He steps in, closing the entrance behind. Immediately his eyes are drawn to his wife who stands in the middle of the massive tent, studying the various items that occupy the space. A bed with a hay mattress, a table and a few chairs, a rack for an armor, and a bottle of wine on another table. They are all simple things, ascetic even. Only the deep blue and white carpet with a picture of a rearing horse has a sense of luxury in it. “Since when have you started drinking on duty?” she asks. Armor glances at the bottle while walking closer to her. “As you can see, it’s actually unopened. Apparently it’s a tradition of the Crystal Kingdom army that the Supreme Commander should always have a bottle in reserve while on a campaing.” A short smile momentarily lights up his grim face. “For a victory or for a defeat, the story doesn’t tell.” He starts taking off his armor. One by one, the heavy plates of mail fly onto their places in the rack. “So… you didn't intend to drink it?” she asks. As he shakes his head, she floats the bottle to her. “Suit yourself,” she continues, making the cork fly with a flick of her horn. She looks around, searching for something. “They didn't think to give you glasses?” “Uhm… I told them that I wouldn't be drinking it,” he answers. “I can go ask for one if you–” “Never mind,” she says and closes her eyes as the bottle meets her lips. A heavy sigh ends her unusually long sip. Armor’s eyes go wide. “Okay, I have to ask: what’s the word?” “Prolegomena,” she says with a faraway voice. “I'm not a pretender, Armor. I just needed a drink.” She takes another sip, a more conventional this time. With a few strides of her long legs, she trots to the bed, laying there. “So… What else have you been hiding from me in your letters?” she asks calmly. He narrows his eyes. “What do you mean? I've told you everything, even the parts that made my heart bleed.” But you never let the blood spill on the paper. “I can see that you've truthfully told everything that has happened around you, but left unsaid what you truly felt inside,” she says. He blinks. “I don’t understand.” “Your hate, Shine. The ugly flower that dwells in your heart. I could feel it the moment I saw you.” She pauses, the purple eyes studying him softly. “Vengeance will not bring Canterlot back. It will only eat you alive.” He gives her a long look. “Cadance… my love… we are at war. Lives have already been lost. What did you expect to find here?” He starts walking back and forth. “You shouldn’t have come… Who will now manage the Kingdom? I thought we had an agreement on this.” She follows his erratic steps, expression as calm as ever. “I left a capable council in charge. It’s not unheard of in the history of the Kingdom. And what comes to our agreement… You knew that, at some point, I'd come here. It was only a matter of time.” He throws a sharp glance at her. “Well, now that you’re here, what are you going to do? Love the city back to our hooves?” An almost malicious chuckle fills the tent. “That’s about the last thing we haven’t tried.” Not a muscle stirs on her face. “Do we yet know who is behind this attack?” “Even a guess would be luxury to us,” he answers darkly, dreading the carpet like it was his mortal enemy. “Might I ask who occupy that council you mentioned?” “Mostly our advisors: Silver Pen, Parchbeard, Quillimore… and Ink Eye.” “A bunch of bureaucrats…” he mutters. “They can’t handle a whole kingdom for more than a few days.” “Armor…” He stops his fervent walking. “What?” “If you want me to leave, you can just say so.” Another pause puts extra weight on her words. “I'd rather stay, though. I believe that I can be of use here.” He looks at her suspiciously. “How exactly?” “You know how.” “No,” he says immediately. “Do not ask me to put your life at risk. Do not ask me that.” Her calm remains infuriatingly steady. “We've fought against powerful enemies before. We can do so again, but only together. If Chrysalis–”   “–This is not Chrysalis!” he cries. “Whatever this is, Chrysalis was nothing compared to what we are facing now!” He takes a step towards the bed, eyes filled with desperation. “And until we find Twilight, you're the only alicorn in both Equestria and in Crystal Kingdom. I can't endanger your life, not as a husband nor as the Supreme Commander. You're too valuable.”     She gives him one of her more ironic smiles. “Too valuable to be of worth?” “Your place is in the Kingdom,” he continues stubbornly. “There is no room for love in these fields. And I’m not saying that as a bad poet, but as a soldier.” A mask of disciplined austerity lowers on his face like a visor. “Under the martial law I’ve declared, I could order you to return.” She looks at him as she might look at an impertinent foal. “Didn't you once say that only an insecure leader covers behind his rank?” Armor fights to deflect her stare, but in the end, it's he who has to turn his face away. Entrapped in sudden indecisiveness, the stallion who holds thousands of lives in his hooves can’t bare to look at his own wife into the eyes. “Come here, my love,” says Cadance, moving on the bed to create room beside her. He obeys somewhat reluctantly. Soon they are sitting on the bed, she relaxed like a cat, he tense as a bow. “I’m sorry about that martial law comment…” he says finally. “I shouldn’t have… said that.” “It was better to let it out than to choke on it,” she answers. She moves behind him, touching his shoulders with his front hooves. “A lot of ponies look up to you right now. How couldn't you lose yourself to stress?” She begins to rub his rock-hard muscles. He grunts as her capable hooves begin to unravel his knots. “I had always thought that running the Guard would be the most straining task I'd ever have to face. But compared to the role of the Supreme Commander, the Captain of the Royal Guard is equivalent to a joker.” Another grunt, this time of relieved pleasure, flees him. “That is exactly why the task has been given to you. Because you're not just somepony. You are Shining Armor.” “Lucky me,” he says quietly. A distant look invades his eyes. “Sometimes I really feel that I'm nothing but an empty metal container without anypony inside, standing on display, shining. I can’t show insecurity, no doubt, no emotions. It makes me feel more like a machine, a tool, than a living pony.” He sighs heavily. "I even have to talk like I was in the academy again..." “That is what the ultimate responsibility means,” she says, moving lower onto his back with her massaging. “I thought I was familiar with it already. I thought I could handle anything. But this… I seriously don’t know if I’m up to this.” His voice gets lower, almost turns apathetic. “How can I know that I’m making the right decisions? How? I have my council, but in the end, it's me who has to act, me, only me.” He glances at his wife. “What if I fail?” Cadance’s focus doesn’t derail from her task. “Is that what you fear most: failing?” His nod is practically invisible. “Then you have the rare privilege of knowing your fear. There are some who fear all their lives, never once knowing what exactly. With your fear you gain a purpose, even if it’s just to avoid the object of that fear.” Her voice smooths him like his hooves do, softly, tenderly, caringly. “Is that supposed to comfort me?” he asks confusedly. “I have to say that it doesn’t, not at all.” She only smiles at that. “You also have me to share your fears with. Does that relieve your anguish more?” “Yes… Yes it does.” He relaxes his head back, letting her shoulder support his neck. “You know… When I mentioned that I could be of use here, I wasn't only referring to battle. Love does have other usages than weaponized ones.” She plants a light kiss on his exposed throat. He breathes in her scent, the sweet, intoxicating smell of her coat, mane, and soul. “For a moment, I had already forgotten,” he whispers with his eyes closed. Another kiss adores his clean white coat and wiry muscles underneath. “It is as you said: love has no room in these fields.” Her hoof reaches for his broad chest, travelling along its horizontal length. “That is why we need to make some.” Armor turns around and locks her into a passionate embrace. The wine bottle that had stood on the edge of the bed gets knocked over, but neither of the two pays the fact any attention. The red liquid pours on the tent floor, staining the large, thick carpet in deep crimson. As if in slow motion, the picture of the rearing horse receives a carmine tinge. Now it almost looks as if it was covered in blood.     *** Twilight wakes up to a sound of a scream, realizing immediately that it was her own voice. Next to her, Fluttershy jumps into the air, shrieking herself, too. This incites another alarmed gasp from the alicorn who panics as she can’t get up. It’s as if strong hooves were holding her down, wrapping themselves all around her body. She starts trashing mindlessly, falling from the bed with a thud. As her breathing turns from hyperventilation to mere panting, she notices that the hostile hooves are nothing but bedsheets that she has tangled herself in. “Uhm, you okay, Twilight?” asks Fluttershy from a safe distance. “Yes, yes,” Twilight manages, trying to free herself. Suddenly, her horn lights up and incinerates the bedclothes around her. Fluttershy flinches, shielding herself from the ethereal flames that paint the whole room purple for a few seconds. As Twilight notices her friend’s reaction, an embarrassed blush raises to her cheeks. She stands up, shaking the ashes off. “Sorry about that… I just had to get them away from me.” “Okay…” answers Fluttershy. “Uhm, how are you feeling?” Like a murdering wretch. Like a feverish, festering wound. What do you think? “Not that good. Not that good at all…” She looks around the room, which she recognizes as the bedroom. So it was his bed in which I just slept in… A cold shudder travels along her spine. “W-would you like something?” asks Fluttershy, still staying on the other end of the room. “W-water, or f-food, or–” “I’m not hungry. Where are the others?” Fluttershy's gaze falls on the floor. “They… They went to… bury him…” An indescribable hollowness invades Twilight's face, her mind, her heart. It captures her into a stranglehold of receding emotions. For a moment, she can’t find anything to say. “That’s… nice of them,” she manages. Did I just say that?  Fluttershy keeps on staring at the floor and shuffling her legs. “W-we thought it best to get it quickly over with… but I… couldn’t be there so I… offered to stay with you.” The bright teal eyes glance at Twilight. “I thought you'd want to talk when you woke up.”   “There is nothing to talk about. Nothing about him, anyway.” She gives her an empty look. “Let’s wait for the others and start discussing our next move then.” The pink mane stirs faintly as a sign of Fluttershy's nod. Twilight gives her one more look and heads to the living room. The first thing her eyes dart to is the place where the stallion fell. No blood, no entrails, nothing. It’s as if he was never here. Even the puddle of her stomach fluids has been wiped off. It’s as if nothing had happened here, nothing at all. She settles on the floor, neck straight, hooves crossed in front, eyes looking at Fluttershy through the hole in the opposite wall. “Are you going to just stand there?” she asks, not unkindly.   Fluttershy trots meekly over to the other room, lingering a moment by the door. She moves as if the sound of her own hooves against the bare planks terrified her. Her mane covers most of her face as she sits down next to Twilight. Neither says nothing, looks at nothing, does nothing but breathe. After an incalculable amount of time, Rainbow Dash and Rarity come in. “Jeez, I thought we just left the grave behind us,” says Dash as she flies in and sees the expressions of the two ponies inside. Rarity glowers at her as she closes the door behind her. “It’s done,” she says quietly. “W-where did you…” begins Fluttershy. “It doesn’t matter,” says Twilight. “We need to decide what we do next.” “What can we do next?” says Dash, floating in the air. “Our only lead is soon pushing daisies, half a meter underground.” “Isn’t that a bit shallow…?” whispers Fluttershy worriedly. “Try digging yourself around here: it’s all rocks under the grass,” says Dash grudgingly. “My hooves are all dented now…” “Could we please stop talking about the bucking grave!” cries Twilight, making the others flinch. Immediately after, she buries her face into her hooves. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…” she repeats like a filly caught stealing candy. The others look at her and at each other, searching for something, anything, to say. “It’s…it’s fine, Twilight dear,” says Rarity. “We are all somewhat on the edge at the moment…” “Yeah, yeah,” says Dash, rubbing her neck. “It was self-defense, Twi, no need to sweat about it. You saved Fluttershy’s life.” She looks at her. “Right, Shy?” Fluttershy blinks. “Uh, yes, yes, of course… You saved m-my l-life… T-thank you…” She wipes the corner of her eye with a hoof.   Rarity stares incredulously at the two pegasi. “Will you shut the hay up,” she says to Dash by only moving her lips. She ignores the eyebrow that Dash raises and steps closer to the now sobbing Twilight. “That is good. Let it come out. It’s all just water, let it flow. Let it run.” She sits down on her stomach next to her, resting her hoof on Twilight's shaking shoulders. “We are here for you.” When all the tears have fled her, Twilight finally raises her head, her face stained in salty fluids. “I know I shouldn't have done it… but I couldn't… I couldn’t just look at him and, and…” Another sob cuts her sentence. “He deserved it. If there ever was anypony who deserved to die, it was him. He deserved it.” She spits the last sentence out. Rarity looks at her from under her eyebrows. “We know, Twilight, we know. We are not judging you for it, nopony is. What you did was what most ponies would have done and I don't mean that in the negative sense. It’s just as you said: he deserved it.” Twilight's shimmering eyes turn to her. “Then why do I feel so horrible about it?” To that, Rarity can’t find an appropriate answer, not for her life. “We can figure that out later,” says Dash from above them. “If you haven’t forgotten, we still got enemies to deal with.” As if in a flight show, she lands in front of Twilight with militaristic preciseness, face stern. “What’s our next move, Princess?” For a moment, Twilight’s grief sways in front of the discipline that seems to turn corporeal in the pegasus before her. Then she wipes some the tears off with a hoof, revealing a calmer look behind. “You are right. We still have a mission to accomplish, a very important one at that. We need to find a way to win Canterlot back.” More tears stain her feathers as she cleans her face. “Was there anything interesting in the papers that we found yesterday?” she asks from Rarity. She studies Twilight for a second longer before pulling her hoof back from her shoulder. “I went through the rest of them in the morning. They were all the same: observations on the local flora and fauna, blueprints of the cabin, random poems…The diary had a few strange passages, but it was so thick I could only leaf through it.” “I’ll help you with that.” Twilight's eyes, still red from crying, turn to Rainbow Dash. “How about the outdoor building?” “Full of logs,” says Dash, shrugging. “I digged around a bit, but only got splinters.” “Level it to the ground.” The purple gaze meets Fluttershy. “And the animals?”   She hesitates a second. “T-they all said he is–was v-very nice to them… Didn’t disturb them or hurt them…” “Did they say anything useful?” continues Twilight sharply. “Uhm… They did say that he used to travel up the mountain path a couple of times in a month. He could stay days up there in one go.” “Up where? Is there something there?” “I-I don’t know… I didn’t ask…” “Do that as soon as you can,” finishes Twilight. She stands up. “We all know what to do. Now let’s do it.” They all begin to work.                                                  *** As Arch Freight and Berryfer return from downstairs, they find Silk String huddling with the colt on the makeshift bed. The mare opens her eyes as she hears them entering in. “Did you find anything?” she asks, raising her head. Arch Freight, smiling faintly, presents to her two baskets full of hay. “In a way, yes. All the real food is long gone, but we found out that some of the older furniture was packed with hay.” He glances at his son. “It was Berryfer’s idea to look from there.” The dark-blue colt smiles proudly. “Is it edible?” she asks suspiciously. “Some of it is,” hurries Arch Freight to say before all the pride can die in his son’s eyes. “It might not be very tasty, but it’s all we got.” “Show me,” says Silk String, standing up. The baskets float to her. After having looked, smelled, and tasted them, an approving smile spreads on her lips. “You did well, Berryfer,” she says to him. She turns to Cough and offers him a hoofful of the dry hay. “You should eat some, too.” Berryfer watches warily as Cough sniffs at the food, continuing to eat it all with vigour. Nonetheless, he says nothing when they start all dining on the ruins of a couch and a few armchairs. Some words are exchanged while they feed, mostly between the parents, but otherwise they enjoy their simple meal in silence. At steady intervals, Berryfer steals a glimpse of the other colt, noticing how his mane has been combed similarly to his. When the last straw is gone, his mother says: “Berryfer: could you show our guest the room next doors, the one with all the board games? Didn’t you mention that you’d like to try them?” Berryfer rolls a pillow between his hooves, eyes cast down. “I don’t need to anymore…” he mumbles. “Come now, Berryfer. I’m sure you do. Off you go.” The colt glances pleadingly at his father. All he gets from him is a short nod. Berryfer squishes the pillow with his hooves while getting up. “Yes, mother,” he says with a hint of reproachfulness. He leaves the room without another word. “You should follow him,” says the mare to Cough. “Trust me: some of those games looked very nice.” The shimmering grey eyes look at her questioningly. “But I wanna stay with you?” “It’ll be just for a moment, Cough. Please, I need to talk with my husband here.” She nods at Arch Freight, whom the colt is afraid to look into the eyes. “Y-you’ll be here, right?” he asks carefully, brushing his forelegs against her's.” “I will. That's a promise.” She lifts his chin up and smiles kindly. “Just try to focus on the board games.” He blinks and hugs her tightly. Looking from the doorstep, Berryfer narrows his eyes. He hides completely when the colt stands up and starts trotting towards him.   “Cough?” asks Arch Freight after he is left alone with Silk String. “Never mind that,” she says. “Thank you for the food. We really needed it.” “I told you already: it was Berryfer’s idea to search from the furniture. You should thank him.” She gives him a puzzled look. “Oh? I thought it was one of your educational methods, to make him mistake your idea as his own.” He raises an eyebrow. “He has grown too old for that. I thought that you had realized it awhile ago.” “I… I suppose I should have,” she says hesitatingly. “He is growing so fast, isn’t he?” She looks at the blankets as she says that. Arch Freight sighs. “There is no point in grieving the months lost in the hospital now. We have more pressing matters in our hooves.” He stands up and walks over to the window covered with planks ripped from the floor. “I've been thinking. We can't leave the city as is.” She looks at his back in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.” “How can I not?” he says, turning around. “I’m out of plans.” “But we can’t live here!” she blurts. “Eating furniture, drinking from the fire buckets, staying up half the night… That's not life.” “It’s not slavery, either.” The faint light from behind him can barely paint his shadow on the bare floor. “Can’t we use the old plan?” she continues, standing up. “Steal a carriage, fill it with rubble and travel quietly to the edge of the city?” “And then what? We never figured out how to get out of the gates. The old plan was born of blind desperation, nothing more.” “It was your plan,” she points out. “That's why nopony knows its futility better than me,” he says calmly. “Accept it, Silk. We have no choice but to hide here.” “And who says that? You! Apocalypse or not, It’s always you who calls the shots, Arch, always you who says what to do next!” “That is because somepony has to!” he snaps. “With you always being away, how can I ask your opinion?” “I’m here right now!” “What would you have us do, then?” he says with a cooler tone. “Run out and pray that it all works out?” A malicious laugh carries from her throat. “I’m sure rotting here would be much more pleasing to you! I bet you have chosen a place for all your heirlooms already.” “You're not in your right mind,” he says. “Why did you even bother starting this conversation?” “Because I want to know by what right you send all those ponies to their doom back in the Oak Hall!” she cries, stomping her hoof on the floor. “By what right, Arch?” He looks at her as if all the years they have shared together suddenly turned to dust. “Do not go there. Do not… go there.” She breaks into crying. “How could you do something like that… to our guests?” “They would've done the same to us!” he shouts, spit flying from his mouth. “It was either them or all of us. And that’s the simple fact.” Her tears only grow more bitter. “No manners… No manners at all…” A few doors down the corridor, Berryfer and Cough sit in the middle of a room where all kinds of board games lay on the floor. They can’t hear most of the words used by the adults and neither do they need to in order to get the picture. Berryfer rolls a bag of marbles in his hooves, focusing on the feeling of weight shifting inside the pouch. Cough stares at the blank wall behind him, shaking faintly. “Why are they fighting?” he asks. Berryfer stays quiet for a while. “Because of you.” The marbles make a clicking sound as they rub together inside the bright red pouch. “M-me?” Berryfer glances indifferently at Cough. “Yes. We don’t have enough food for everypony, and father knows it. He wants you gone. But mother is being soft and wants you to stay.” His voice barely carries over the shouting. Cough starts shaking more fervently. A shade travels over Berryfer's eyes. “But she knows that you’re weak and that it’s no use feeding you for long. That’s why she hugged you so tightly. Because you’re going to die soon.” Cough’s chin presses against his chest, his shaking almost tipping him over. But then, he grows all stiff in one moment. “No,” he says with his colorless voice. “You’re wrong. We’re all gonna die.” The marble bag drops on the floor. “What did you say?” Berryfer asks, the dark confidence gone from his voice. “We’re all gonna die. We’re all gonna die. We’re all gonna die.” He almost chants the words. “No, you’re gonna die,” says Berryfer, standing up. “You got no parents, I do. They love me, they'll protect me. Pa will protect me.” He looks at him challengingly, seeking his eyes that linger on the floor. “That’s what I thought before,” whispers Cough. He chin raises like somepony else was lifting it: limply, yet determinately. “But then came the Smoke.”     Berryfer takes a step back before those grey eyes, those eyes like dust. “Daddy tried to save mommy from the Smoke,” continues Cough with wide eyes and a dead voice. “I heard them from down below, where I was lying. I heard them scream. I heard them stop screaming. And I heard them… I heard them…” “W-what did you hear?” The grey eyes blink. “I heard them push the table on top of the hatch.”   “And leave.”