July 17, 1916 – Today's session with Twilight had gotten her curious, and at the same time concerned about the equines from the war. In one memory, I once saw lines of horse-drawn wagons that pulled the explosives, guns, and our weekly rations. As I recalled it, some of them were pulling quite heavy loads, that I remember this one with a dirty black coat that was repetitively kicked for not keeping up. So of course, with the spell still going, it leads to a... awkward conversation about the treatment of horses and ponies during the war. On the one hand, because she could see the memories as they unfold, the option of lying was impossible. No doubt she saw the poor creatures getting shot at, die from exhaustion, or the treatment for their injuries was antiquated.
Yet, on the other hand, she admitted that she was puzzled. She was confused that while they walked on four legs and have the same basic body structure as them, Twilight noted that some parts of them like their height and facial structure were completely different. She asked questions like, "Why are so tall?" or, "Why are all of them earth ponies?" or, "How come none of them talk?" or even, "If they're fighting in a war too, where are their uniforms?"
About a third of a way through the session of Twilight asking questions that became harder to explain, I asked her if I could focus on something else. Well, anything at all to drive away from her interrogating me of things that I don't have the answers to. Thankfully she allowed me but said that we should talk about this sometime in the future.
With that, I recalled a memory of writing a letter to Lucy a few hours before going over the top. Up to that point, I was responding to a letter to her about her telling me that her worst fear has been confirmed. Our doctor told her that she's considered to be infertile from working in the arms factory. I could tell she was devastated due to her words and her tear-stained letter. The poor dear was planning that we would start a family by the time I get home from the war.
As a response, I wrote back to her to never forget that no matter what happens, I will still love her. I told her that we can always adopt. In fact, I told her that I was looking forward to coming home because every night I still look at her photograph before sleep. That nothing, no bullet, nor bomb, nor shrapnel, nor gas, nor tank, nor aircraft, nor army, nor land, nor sea will ever stop me to get back to her.
After that, Twilight whipped a tear from her eye and told me that it was one of the noblest things she's ever heard for quite some time. I thank her kindly at that. She also points out that my hairmane has been growing too long and that my trench coat is in need of repair.
"But remember, you still owe me a few explanations in the near future," she added.
At this, she sent her dragon assistant to show me to Rarity who can help me with both of these. The dragon looked a little too eager to do so. Spike showed me to Carousel Boutique, the place where it has a shop on one floor and the home of Rarity on the other. When we entered, Spike explained to Rarity about my situation and Rarity agreed. “Yes, yes. If you don't mind of me saying so, you sir look absolutely a mess! But no need to worry darling, I know exactly what to do. Come right in.”
She took my coat off of me and had me sat in a chair to have my mane cut. Of course, I have in the past had my hair cut before, however, with this one I found it unnerving especially for the fact that the scissors were floating in mid-air cutting away. “Please relax,” she keeps telling me. “There's nothing to feel nervous about. I know what I'm doing.”
The cut she gave me made me look decent. Even as a pony, at least I look civil. Next, she took my coat and studied it. Taking down notes on the stitches, the pockets, the cracked buttons, the bullet holes, and the tares. She hummed in thought as to what to do with my coat.
The first thing she did was to clean off the mud. Next using the sewing machine, she used with a thread that matches the color of my tan coat to stitch up the holes and tares. But what she did next surprised me. She cut off all the buttons and replaces them with rubies, sapphires, and pearls. Then she used her sewing machine with gold and copper threads to create designs on the front, back and sides of the coat. By the time she put the coat back on to me and stand in front of a few mirrors, I was dumbfounded.
“So, what do you think?” she asked with a confident smile.
“Rarity... I never had a uniform anywhere as nice as this. Not even my own generals have worn something like this. I doubt even if my own king has anything like it! Rarity, I-I-I'm speechless.”
“But do you like it?” she urgently questioned.
“I think we've reached beyond that point.”
“You love it! How wonderful.”
“So how much do I owe you anyway?” I asked getting worried, I mean, she sewed in real jewels into my uniform.
Rarity hummed thoughtfully and said, “The mane-cut is seven bits, but the repair and improvement to your coat is free of charge. As a courtesy of the Carousel Boutique.”
I had nothing to say. Even now I still don't know what to say. Here am I, a Private, not only has my coat been repaired but even improved to where that not even the royal family has anything like this in their wardrobe.
In the end, I gave her my gratitude, and paid her, a lot more then she asked for. Her work deserved it after all.