Chapter 1: The Present
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The ash-grey pegasus sat back in his isolated spot in the Greasy Spoon, an unreadable expression on his face as he again ran through the events that had put him there.
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He had been bound in thick, heavy chains to weigh down his wings, and a muzzle to silence his tongue. They had locked him in a cage of solid oak and iron bars, and put around it an escort of no less than fifteen soldiers. Really, it was almost flattering in a way. Weeks had passed, and the soldiers, who had been extremely on edge most of the way, had finally relaxed as the capital came into view, which allowed them all a chance to take it in properly in the light of the full moon.
Some called the city of Roam a sister to far off Canterlot, and while the former was certainly one of the jewels of the Old World, she was no paradise like Canterlot was said to be. Roam had also been built upon a lonely mountain; “raised by magic”, the stories said. But she had been made for the purpose of protecting all within her walls, while the beauty was just an afterthought of sorts.
The capital was layered with one level atop another like a wedding cake. And unlike her sister city, she dug into the patron mountain instead of just hanging off the side from near the peak like fair Canterlot did. Indeed, Roam’s districts and walls wrapped all the way around the mountain, to make full use of the space available. One section was made of stone and decorated to the teeth with catapults, ballistae, and an assortment of other counter siege weapons.
The prison cart first passed through a series of slums, populated by beggars asking for food and coin, and then a little village of wood and thatch roof huts, populated by peasants who made a living farming the lands around the walls and offering various small services to travelers on their way into the city, squatting as close to the walls’ shadow as the defenders would allow. Then they came to the city’s outermost wall, a sight that almost seemed like something out of the legends of old.
High enough that they seemed to touch the sky, polished and ground to perfect smoothness, each stone enchanted and warded by master spellcasters that hid all behind them, and broken at strategic points by guard towers, the outer walls wrapped around the entire mountain like an impenetrable barrier. And that was only the beginning.
The gates were of solid steel, and only just wide enough for the prison cart to get through. The light of day was slowly replaced with illumination provided by bright alchemical orbs stuck into the walls as the cart entered the tunnel, though despite the warm light it was all the pegasus could do not to shiver at the feeling of the eyes watching through the murder holes.
A prickling at his skin could almost be thought of as enchanted crossbow bolts, the dryness of the air the sign of oncoming Demon’s Tears; an ironically named mixture of alchemical fire oil and a nameless, flesh destroying acid which left no mark on the stone that could be poured at a moment’s notice.
A minute and a half later they emerged into the outermost part of the city, which was a massive, contained area of land used for farms that supplied the city with the food it used to endure sieges from months to years on end. It was also where the Imperial Legions trained their new recruits before sending them on a tour of the territories to learn from the four Legions stationed there. The land had been made flat and verdant for all plants by druids with their arts, and tended by long-standing families of farmers who held the respect of the entire city.
It was also where the Rain Towers came into sight, which dotted both the farm lands and the tiered city. The Rain Towers were a marvel of magic; tall, ivory white things that gathered moisture from the atmosphere and condensed it, sending it down its length to the ground below to provide clean water to wherever it was needed. In the case of the farmlands, this was irrigation ditches to provide for the plants. They were also said to capture lighting, and send it to the master tower at the mountain peak to be used for some purpose that would defend the city.
The cart and its escort then came and passed through the lower wall of the mountain. Similar to its outermost brother in height and thickness, the wall was armed with long-range weapons made and enchanted specifically for the purpose of destroying both the enemy and the precious farmlands so any foe that got past the outer wall could never use them.
Behind it was the Root District, populated by more peasants who worked the mines within and beneath the mountain and tended to small, terraced plots of lands carved into the living rock. The scenery here was mainly hovels of wood and stone populated by folk of all the races, all working to make a living. There was also the aqueduct and supply shute networks that supplied water from the Rain Towers and harvested coal and ore to the upper levels.
After traveling through the next wall, which was lined with towers from where the battle mages could hurl their destructive spells upon all invaders, they came into the Branch District, home of the crafts folk and traders. Smiths and carpenters worked the raw materials given to them to provide services to both the civilians and the military. A subsection of wall guarded the brick and mortar residences of the people who lived on this tier, who worked for those that resided on the district up above. The district as a whole was slightly more dug into the mountain than the one below to allow for more gardens, parks, and the public services given to the residents such as schools, temples to Sleipnir and Mother Gaia, and small shops.
Finally, they came upon the Shining Walls, the oldest and storied of all the walls that guarded the city. They had been made of some unknown material that allowed them to absorb and release the light of the sun, stars, and moon, giving them their name. Behind it was the Canopy District, the richest part of the city where the old families lived. The architecture was of an older era; columns of varied styles, marble buildings with grand stairways, manors that had been carved into the mountain. There were few Rain Towers here, as this was the smallest district.
This was where the banks, counting houses, trading companies, and other economic nerve centers called home. It was also home to the Silver Tower, where the mages who served and protected the city were stationed, along with the entrances to the storage houses for the grain and siege food supplies. In contrast to the lower levels, there were fewer gardens here, and the ones that were there were for purely decorative purposes - Roam’s sign of wealth above all else.
Finally, after passing through one final wall, they came to the peak of the mountain, and the Hall of Winds that stood atop it; the imperial palace. There was a heavy autumnal motif to the building - Support pillars in the shape of trees, friezes that depicted leaves blowing in a stormy sky, and a lone mosaic of gold and bronze that showed the great tree Yggdrasil in autumn, ‘neath an oncoming storm.
After being removed from the cart, the escort formed around him, and Black Thunder was able to get one last look at the city and the outlying lands before he was frog marched inside and the doors shut behind them. The drawn-out, booming echo of the doors being closed served as a proclamation of doom, if ever there was one.
The halls were well lit with more alchemical lanterns in the shape of trees, and all was quiet save for the occasional servant cleaning the floors and walls with brooms and brushes that got to every spot, and mops that needed no water. It made the pegasus wonder if this was deliberate, a way to get him worried about his fate more than ever. If that was the case, they were succeeding. Even in a place that seemed so peaceful, he could not stem the growing sense of fear.
Finally, the journey ended for real. The Senate Chambers, where the democratically elected representatives of the civilians laid down the laws and dispensed justice on cases too big for the regular courts. A circular chamber of ominous black stone, pillars of white marble with rippling black onyx, and at the heart an oak leaf shaped table on a raised dais.
At the tips were seated the Senate members themselves; elderly ponies and griffons from the oldest and most influential families. Yet it was the one sitting at the stem within the shadows that drew Black Thunder’s attention. Upon a throne carved to depict two interlocked trees with leaves falling to the floor sat an alicorn: Roam’s Emperor.
“Captain Black Thunder,” spoke one of the Senate members closest to the pegasus. “You have been brought here to stand trial on charges of war cowardice and failure in the line of duty. Conduct unbecoming of an officer as decorated as you. I ask you, why did you not report in after the Campaigns ended?”
The gag was removed, and the pegasus spoke, “Lord Senator, I had been in pursuit of a truer traitor. In a moment when he was needed the most he fled, resulting in the loss of one of the last survivors of the star fall.”
“And this pony, the one you supposedly were chasing after, who was it?”
“Prince Blueblood of Equestria,” Black Thunder growled, barely able to keep himself from spitting the name out like a curse. “When I needed his help the most, he quit the field, and I lost a friend who had fought by my side for most of the Campaigns. After dealing with the threat he had run from, I began to hunt him down. Unfortunately I underestimated his ability to hide, for it took me the better part of a year to track him down to Prance. By the time I caught up with him, though… he had already boarded an Equestrian warship, and had sailed beyond my reach. I returned to the nearest outpost then, and thus I am now here.”
The Senate was silent. Each member stared at the pegasus, some with astonishment, others with fear. Slowly, a chatter started that lasted a short while, before one of them spoke. “The Prince of Equestria?” asked the mare. “Running from battle? Running from the battle, no less?”
“Yes, Lady Senator. There were three of us left at that point. He, myself, and… and one Lieutenant Jade Fountain from Englade. Lieutenant Fountain had been severely wounded, and a hostile dragon somehow survived the event that had wiped out the rest of the armies. I needed the Prince to help me get her to safety, but he had run away screaming at the first sight of it. I did my best but… but I-”
“How did the Lieutenant gain those wounds? Was it from the dragon, or from the meteor that obliterated the armies?” asked the sole Desert Dog at the table. “And how did she die? Did the dragon kill her, or was it her wounds that claimed her life?”
“... It was her wounds. I don’t know how, I must have had the blessing of lord Sleipnir Himself with me at the time, but I killed that damned monster by myself. By the time I’d finished it off, it was too late. Her wounds were too far gone and… and I…” The pegasus sniffed, brushing away the growing tears on his manacles, falling to his hind legs as he did. “She was able to get out a few last words, words I wish to keep to myself, before she passed to Distant Shores. After that, rage consumed me, and I began my pursuit of the Prince.”
He lifted his manacled arms in placation. “I apologize deeply for not reporting in, but with all the death I’d seen, and an ally leaving when I needed them the most, I wasn’t able to think straight. Even after all the time I couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d run away to save himself, and didn’t even consider a wounded comrade.”
The Senate listened to the story with varied reactions. Some were sympathetic, the most emotional of them having to hold back their own rage or despair. Others thought the warrior was speaking lies, unwilling to believe that a prince of a nation like Equestria would do such a crime at so dire a time. And the rest were running the story through their minds, looking for something to use to their advantage.
Finally, an elderly griffon with the mother of all baritone voices spoke up. “There are eyewitness accounts of your pursuit, Captain? Those who can prove you were indeed chasing a deserter, and thus performing a just task?” The pegasus looked up, hope welling within him.
“Yes, lord senator. The chase went through several highly populated areas, and ended at a major port in Prance. I can also get the word of a priest of Sleipnir to support my case, as I confided in him prior to turning myself in. He will speak the truth if asked.”
The griffon considered what was said, and leaned close to the emperor to have a brief, hushed conversation. When the alicorn nodded the senator spoke thusly, “If that is the case, then you are in the clear, Captain. It is my opinion and that of his majesty that you were doing a just task in the name of your fallen comrades, and the Imperial Legions as a whole.
“Though you may have failed to capture him, and though the prince is now under the aegis of the Princess Celestia and thusly out of our reach, you are at no fault at all. Are there any objections from the rest of you?” he asked his comrades. They each held a whispered conversation with one another before, one by one, shaking their heads. “In that case, guards, remove his manacles and binds. It would seem we are in the presence of a war hero.”
A war hero. Once upon a time hearing those words used to describe him would have made the pegasus swell with pride. But that part of him had been beaten out by sixteen years of the worst that war had to offer. Now it was all so hollow, so pointless. He barely felt it as the bindings were removed, as the griffon spoke of how Englade would be displeased with Equestria that their Prince had fled for his life and left one of their soldiers to die, and only registered the bringing up of promotion.
With the Eastern Legion all but destroyed, it would need to be remade. As the only survivor Black Thunder would be a good fit for taking charge until a proper General could be found and promoted from the existing higher-ranking commanders. They spoke of honor and glory, how proud his family would be of him, until he finally, wearily, interrupted him.
“Stop. Just… stop.”
The senator raised an eyefeather, greatly unaccustomed to being interrupted, but too in control to show any greater reaction. “Is there a problem, Captain? Is this not all good news to you?”
“Your majesty, my lords and ladies, forgive me. Once upon a time I would have gladly accepted such a reward. I would have been the proudest soldier in the Legions, I bet. But now? No. I fought in the war from the very start, threw away over sixteen years of my life for the cause. I’ve seen every friend I made over the years die through the course of battles that went nowhere, innocent civilians lose all they had just because the foe didn’t want us to gain anything, and all for what?
Had we gotten into the Ottomare Empire more fully we would have begun either killing everyone in sight or sending them to be reeducated, destroying their culture utterly by toppling their cities, and building new ones amongst their ashes after assimilating the useful aspects of the old. Something I now cannot bring myself to do. I can’t believe such a thing is even a norm for us.”
“If you will not accept the promotion,” the griffon began, “then what will you do then?”
“Resign my commission.”
One of the senators, an elderly unicorn mare who’d just been enjoying a fresh cup of tea, spat the steaming contents on her equally elderly griffon counterpart, who simply accepted a towel proffered by the emperor to wipe himself down. Then he shouted at the top of his lungs, “What?!”
“I’m done,” the pegasus responded simply, already tugging at the straps for his cuirass. “All my friends, all the people I became close with over the course of the war, a second family, are all gone. As I said, I’ve given away over sixteen years of my life fighting for the empire, and now I’m just tired.” With a clatter, the armor piece fell to the ground as its former wearer started on the strategically spiked cuisses.
“I don’t know what I’ll do with my life now. I think I’ll become a sell sword, or try to give the bravi a decent name again. It feels too soon for me to hang up my sword. Build up enough money to buy a home or plot of land to build a casa nor over.” Upon seeing the confused looks of some of the senators he translated, “‘cloud house’ in Andrealian.” The armor pieces fell away now, revealing the warrior’s mark of purpose as an anvil with a gilded sword and hammer on either side, crossing over each other diagonally.
“There’s no need for that though!” a senator spouted desperately. “Just four or five more years and you’re entitled to a plot of land and title for your services! Please, Captain, the empire needs you! We need you!” Everyone in the room face-hooved, clawed, and pawed at that statement, all save the pegasus who was now in the process of removing his grieves.
“That, lord senator, is exactly the reason why I’m hooving in my resignation. While the conflict had the chance of removing a threat to the empire, ultimately it was just so you all could get more land, and expand your personal empires of trade and banking. All at the cost of an entire people and culture older even than ours. Is the slaughter and subjugation of Zebrica not enough for you? If you truly wanted the Ottomare Empire destroyed you would have sent ‘The Butcher of the Southern Wastes’, General Taurus Bolder Break to deal with them.”
The grieves fell, and Black Thunder moved to the rerebraces. “But no, you sent Scorpio Chilli Step, one of the best of the Four Cardinal Generals, to his death. Him and all the rest of us. All for the sake of satiating your avarice. I can never live up to his standards, and neither can any of you.” The rerebraces had barely hit the ground before the pegasus went on to the vambraces. As he wasn’t looking at them he hadn’t noticed that everyone in the room was starting to edge away from him as best they could, with the senators visibly leaning away from him and the guards edging towards the door.
Only the emperor was still, only he was silent, watching with an expression veiled in shadow. Finally, the pegasus came to the helmet, which in contrast to the rest of his armor he removed with reverence, even kissing the brow before gently laying it down. “If there is nothing else, my lords and ladies, I will depart now. I won’t be keeping my severance pay for myself, I’ll send it to the Sleipnirian church I visited. I’ve enough money stored away to make a start at living on my own.” He turned then to face the emperor as best he could, given the alicorn was leaning back in the shadows of the Sylvan Throne.
“Fare thee well, your imperial grace. It was my honor to serve you and the empire in the Legions, one I’m grateful you let me have. Poate ne vom întâlni din nou o zi, într-o zi clar sub cerul de toamnă.” Black Thunder gave one final, deep bow to the emperor before pulling up the hood of his sand colored cloak. As he turned, about to leave, it seemed as if he tried to blink away a tear before leaving the chamber. At least, to the emperor it was such. Everyone else could only focus on how it seemed that the warrior’s eyes glowed a predatory yellow from within the hood’s shade.