//------------------------------// // How Far We've Come // Story: It was a Different Time... // by OneCoolBrony //------------------------------// "Today was not a good day." "It is with a heavy heart that I" "Unfortunately, a lot of good stallions lost their lives today." "We were slaughtered. Not a single stallion was prepared for what happened out on that battlefield today. It has been about a week since I last wrote. I do not even know where to begin. My own personal horrors almost prevent me from writing, however I write so that what happened today may not be forgotten. And I write so that I may forget what happened today. I suppose that I will start at the beginning of this day. And I will tell the events so that perhaps when ponies live in a world of peace, they may know what was suffered so that they can cherish that peace. Forgive me, I digress. Today went thusly..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Spell Sword woke up in his tent, and stared at the 'ceiling' of said tent. His unit had finally reached the outpost they had been marching to, and last night had been the first one where they would be able to sleep until dawn at least. Spell Sword shifted so that he was on his right side, and he stared at his journal. He had not been able to write for days, and he was tempted to write in it now. He ultimately decided that he wouldn't write at the moment, but would likely compensate for it tomorrow morning. When he heard the quiet hoof-falls outside his tent, he knew he had better prepare to awaken. He listened as his C.O. stopped and breathed deeply, sighing before he went through the arduous process of waking up all the sleeping soldiers tented before him. "ALRIGHT, UP AND AT 'EM! TODAY'S GONNA BE A BIG DAY, NUMB-NUTSES! GET YOU FLANKS OUT HERE BEFORE I GET IN THERE AND TAKE YOU OUT MYSELF. C'MON AND MOVE IT, WE AIN'T GOT TIME TO WASTE TODAY!" Once again, all of the stallion found their way into a line and, after being thoroughly woken up, were dismissed to prepare for the rest of the day, all being informed where they needed to be by seven, sharp. Spell Sword made his bedroll and headed out for the mess hall. It took him a minute to get his bearings in this new camp, but he eventually found the mess hall and was able to get his meal before a lot of other soldiers, making it so that he could enjoy his breakfast in some peace. At least, for a little while. Spell Sword had seen him to late, and by the time he saw him, he was out of line and heading in his direction. He attempted to quicken his eating pace, but even so, he would never be able to finish before he would reach the table. "So!" Gilded Armour started, placing his plate on the table. "We're going to battle today! I don't know about you, old timer, but I'm ready to kick some ass! I just hope the other two races don't blow the whole thing." Spell Sword raised an eyebrow as if to say "Excuse you?". Spell Sword wasn't that much older than Gilded Armour. Also, Spell Sword had almost been proud of Gilded Armour when he had almost managed to go an entire sentence without introducing racism into its wording. Almost. Okay, maybe Spell Sword was a little hard on him. Though his racism bothered Spell Sword to no end, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of companionship towards Gilded. He was, when not being a racist, a genuinely entertaining individual. Spell Sword had also gotten to know him a little better a while back, when he had been drinking and was willing to share things a sober Gilded Armour was not likely to share with anypony. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I, hic, know I haven't been the best of ponies, Spell..." Gilded Armour paused, lowering his chin into his chest, then releasing a belch. "... Sword. I just think that other ponies don't take the time to get to know how great I am!" Spell Sword rolled his eyes, his friend was clearly drunk, and was still totally arrogant; though this didn't really surprise him. He listened to what he thought was going to be another "I'm the best" speech that quickly evolved into something else entirely. "I mean, even my dad was only ever: 'Train so that you'll one day be as great as me!' He never asked what I liked, or what I wanted to do, you know?" Spell Sword cocked his head inquisitively. He, in fact, did not know. His mother had loved him, his dad had gladly played hoofball with him, he didn't really have anything from his childhood to complain about. Gilded Armour sighed, and sought to explain to his friend what the experience was like, swirling his hoof around as he spoke. "You never really feel loved. I mean, they'll say 'I love you' and give you gifts on your birthday and on Hearths Warming, but you never feel loved. Kind of like if you only ever drank, but never ate. You'd feel fine for a little while, but after too long of this, you'd feel... like something was missing, though not empty." This analogy surprised Spell Sword, finding it curious that Gilded knew more vocabulary than ignorant racial slurs. He also found this interesting because Gilded Armour had never shared anything about himself or his home that didn't describe him as "all-around perfect". "Here," Gilded Armour started, desciding that he had found a suitable example to illustrate what he was saying, "lemme tell you about the day I got my cutie mark." Gilded Armour tilted his head back and quickly pressed the mug to his lips, throwing the alcohol back into his throat. The majesticly fluid movement was followed swiftly by his rump smashing onto the hardwood floors, nopony stirring as yet another drunk hit the ground. Pulling himself back onto the stool and faced Spell Sword, continuing as if gravity had done nothing to him. "Okay, so I was a late bloomer. I didn't get my cutie mark until well after all my other classmates got theirs." He motioned for another drink to the bartender , who shook his head in a manner that plainly announced "You've had enough". When Gilded Armour protested, the bartender sighed, ducking his head behind the counter and informing him "You only get one more, then that's enough for you." Gilded Armour smiled in his intoxicated victory and continued his tale. "So, anyways, the day I got my cutie mark. I was training in the yard, private school, and I was suited up, right? So, I was there training with my bud, uh. He was, um. Don't remember, doesn't matter. Anyways I, thanks guy," he gladly recieved his drink from the tender, quickly consuming a quarter of it. "I was training an, an out the coner o' ma eye, I see a, a, a stupid fucking earth pony!" Spell Sword almost visibly deflated, any vested interest fleeing with any sign of racism. "Only, get this! An older unicorn, big tough 'un, was, burp, was all up in the earthy's face. And he was pushing him 'round. Jus' when that stupid, dumb, stupid unicorn was 'bout to hit him with tha trainin' sword, I jumped in! I don't know why! I jus' did. And I almost regret it." Gilded Armour sighed as Spell Sword had returned his attention to the story. "Well," a drink, " I lost my friends that day." Another drink. "Got my cutie mark though, heh, didn't even feel the wood splint'r." A big gulp this time. "An' tha wors' part is that my own dad, hic, he go' mad a' me fo' helpin', hic, tha' stupi' earthy." Gilded polished off his mug, shouted behind him "MY TAB!" and proceeded out the door. As the door swung closed behind him, the sound of barrels toppling accompanied them. Spell Sword excused himself to go help his friend. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So, as far as horribly racist individuals go, Gilded Armour wasn't all that bad. He was at the very least forgivable when you realized that perhaps his racism was not entirely a fault of his own. Deciding to begrudgingly tolerate his ignorant associate, he retarded his eating to a normal pace. Spell Sword endured Gilded Armour's ill-informed excitement, trying to enjoy the meal in front of him (trying being a key word). After Gilded Armour's titillation and rambling of "I'm going to slay pretty much all of the monsters" Spell Sword was finally offered the opportunity to speak, Gilded Armour now practically enveloping his meal with his muzzle. "So," Spell Sword began, "how do you suppose you'll do so well when you've never actually engaged in a real battle before?" Gilded barely lifted his maw from the tray to speak. "Because I'm me!" Spell Sword watched as he witnessed something he could only describe as disgusting, terrifying, yet somehow exhilirating to witness first-hoof. He looked away and rolled his eyes, returning his attention to Gilded Armour only when he got up, saying "Come on! Let's get ready! We don't wanna be the ones that end up holding everypony up!" Spell Sword followed without arguement. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Spell Sword looked over at Gilded Armour through the mass of stallions. He looked excited, but also utterly terrified.