Chapter 16
Her Truth is Marching On
The air was filled up with the smoke of a thousand campfires, and the cacophony of sounds that resulted when one mixed the slamming up and down of hundreds of marching hooves, the bellowing of drill instructors, the clatter of weapons, the hammer blows of blacksmiths working, the thud and thump of food being unloaded from carts, and the choruses of a dozen different marching songs all being sung at once by different groups of ponies.
Rarity rubbed the side of her temple gently with one hoof as she moved amongst the camp - her camp, and wasn't that almost too absurd for words - as all around her the host she had assembled prepared for the battle to take their country back.
Over them all loomed the airships that had carried Rarity and her company out of Canterlot, one step ahead of Sunset Shimmer and her forces camped outside the walls. The great dirigibles, who now cast their vast shadows over the encampment - though a little less vast since they had started siphoning the gas out of the balloons to burn for heat - had carried them to the town of Buckingham, a quaint and charming little place, which Rarity would have loved to have explored, a few weeks march north of Canterlot. It was thus close enough that they could march back to Canterlot, but enough way if Sunset chose to strike at them they would have ample warning of it. Just as importantly Buckingham sat on a crossroads, with one fork leading to Manehattan and the other to the Crystal Empire.
"You know, Spike," Rarity said softly, pausing her progress for a moment to look at the charming village around which her growing army had spread out its hooves like a mother enveloping a child in her arms. "When all of this is over I'm going to come here for a real visit. I might even ask Twilight to come with me."
"What for?" Spike asked.
"Because I spotted what looked like a delightful antique shop, and I think it might have some hidden treasures," Rarity said. "The tea shop looked rather nice as well."
"Why don't you just have a look around now?"
"Because, Spike dear, not only do I have responsibilities I also have an image to maintain. What would everypony else think if they caught me slinking off to enjoy myself?"
"I guess," Spike said. "It's a pity you can't take a break for a while though."
Rarity smiled down at him. "I appreciate the sentiment, Spike, I really do. Now, what is the first item on the checklist?"
The new number one aide-de-camp consulted the clipboard he was holding between his claws. "The quartermaster."
"Ah, of course," Rarity said. "Let's go then, Celestia knows we don't have a moment to spare."
Having landed her airships and disembarked the personnel Celestia had sent her, Rarity had put Rainbow Dash to work. Rainbow had flown across the length and breadth of Equestria, from Cloudsdale to Manehattan, from Baltimare to the Crystal Empire, from Fillydelphia to Las Pegasus, carrying the truth about Sunset Shimmer, about Rarity's exalted new position, and a call from the new regent for ponies willing to take up arms to defend the true princesses and the freedom and harmony of their land.
Rarity had called, and across the country ponies had answered, and they had come to Buckingham in ones and twos, in tens and by the score, they had come in their hundreds. Farm ponies with strong backs from Hollow Shades and the Unicorn Range, roughnecks from out west, hot tempered Baltimare firebrands, Fillydelphia gentlecolts in their frock coats, leading mechanics in their grease-stained work duds. The entire Manehattan Fire Department had formed a company and they had marched down the road in their dress uniforms, with their axe-handles banging against their flanks as they moved in time. From across Equestria they had come to save Equestria, and Rarity could imagine the pride that Celestia would feel if she could see them now. Sometimes she felt a little of that pride herself, at the sight of so many ponies united in a common purpose, albeit tempered by despair and disgust at what that purpose was.
"Left!" a drill instructor screamed at a company of ponies trampling the green grass flat as they paraded - or attempted to - amongst the tents. "I said left you idiots! Don't you bumpkins know your left from your right?...How many of you do not know your left from your right?...Do you at least know the difference between hay and straw?"
"Do they have to yell so much?" Spike asked.
"I suppose they know what they're doing," Rarity replied. She was using the guards she had brought with her as drill instructors, not to command the new volunteers - the ponies elected their own officers, which seemed to be producing commanders everypony felt comfortable following - but to train them to move and fight like soldiers.
She did not regret her decision, or doubt that she had made the right one, but Rarity had to wonder if Spike had a point. These were not guards, they hadn't signed on for the army life; they were ordinary ponies who had bravely volunteered to put their lives at risk in order to do the right thing, and they might not appreciate being roughly handled in this way.
But on the other hoof, raw enthusiasm and a desire to do the right thing was unlikely to prevail against the savagery of Sunset's zebra hordes.
Rarity sighed. And she had thought the fashion industry was complicated. War was a labyrinth by comparison.
She and Spike continued their inspection of the camp. The tents were erected in neat lines, in squares of four with spaces for ponies to walk between them. Cooking fires burned before some of the tents, with mares and stallions in crumpled uniforms squatting in front of them, watching pots and kettles boil. They stood up as Rarity approached, some of them saluting and others bowing before her like she was Twilight or Celestia. Rarity nodded to each of them, exchanged a few words with some, and did her best to control the flushing of her cheeks.
A photographer's gallery had been set up in one corner of the camp, and off duty soldiers queued up outside of the big black tent to pose in their uniforms, strike a stern pose, and have their deeds immortalised for posterity. The mood in the queue was cheerful enough, as the volunteers talked, laughed and joked amongst themselves, but as she watched them Rarity was overtaken by the dread knowledge that, for some of those ponies, these photographs would soon be all that their families would have to remember them by.
"You should get your picture taken, Rarity," Spike said. "I'm sure you could get a special sitting. There should be some photos of you as the Regent of Equestria."
Rarity smiled. "It's a kind thought, Spike, but no. When all of this is over I shall do my level best to forget that it ever happened."
Not far from the photographer's tent, a pony with a fiddle was playing a mournful refrain upon it. Rarity thought it was far more fitting than any of the cheerful and triumphant marching songs that could be heard resounding all around.
A little further down what was effectively one of the main thoroughfares of the camp, the Ponyville Minutemares were parading. They were a small company, the few ponies from Ponyville who had had the good fortune to be out of town when Sunset and her army arrived, but fiercely determined to take back their town. Rarity had designed the uniforms herself, staying up and working by lamplight in the few hours she had each day when the business of regency did not press down upon her, if only to feel like she was doing something tangible. And, she had to say, they did look rather dashing in their blue coats and brass buttons.
"Shoeshine?" Captain Holly Dash demanded as she took the roll call.
"Present!"
"Quartz Rose?"
"Absent, sick," Blossomforth, the colour sergeant, declared as she gripped the company standard between her flexible forehooves.
"Rain Drops?"
"Present!"
"Rarity?"
"Absent, on duty!" Blossomforth declared proudly.
Rarity's head lifted up a little higher. "And that, Spike, is why I can't take time off. Absent on duty, always."
Spike nodded. "Hey...Rarity?"
Rarity looked down at him. "Yes, Spike?"
"What happens if we lose?" Spike asked, sounding younger than even his young years as he did so. "If we can't beat Sunset...will she rule all Equestria? Will Twilight stay in that box forever?"
Rarity smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner as she knelt down at Spike's eye-level. "We are not going to lose, Spike. I promise. We're going to take back Canterlot, we're going to free Twilight, and then we'll tie up Sunset Shimmer and toss her in a hole somewhere."
"You really mean that?"
"I guarantee it," Rarity said firmly. "I understand you're worried about our friends, Spike, because I'm worried too, but don't say another word about it. We aren't going to lose and that is that. We're going to win, because we have to win, and that's all there is to it."
All around, the ponies Rarity not realised were listening to her began to stamp their hooves in approval.
"Yeah, that's right!"
"We'll whip 'em, ma'am!"
"Equestria forever!"
A band began to play, and before long hundreds of voices had taken up the chorus, making up with effort and enthusiasm what they lacked in the ability to carry the tune. Which was, come to think of it, rather an apt metaphor for their war effort so far.
With Spike by her side, Rarity inspected every detail of the encampment. She oversaw the supply situation, which was adequate but not brilliant, with pegasi flying far and wide each day to appeal for cloth for uniforms, metal for armour and weapons, and most importantly for food and fuel to keep her growing army fed and warm. The sound of hammers rang day and night to forge spears, cuirasses and helmets and still it was not enough. Rarity talked to the smiths and the farriers, to the colonels and the capitals, to the teamsters and the poor ponies who would have to pull the wagons when they marched. She watched some of the volunteer regiments drilling, and inspected the stacks of rockets and converted fireworks they had assembled - she also made sure nopony was lighting any unnecessary fires nearby. Rarity was not satisfied with everything, but she was satisfied that she understood everything as best she could.
Finally Rarity came to the very edge of the camp, where Lancer had lined up the twenty four cannons that they had brought with them from Canterlot and was pounding away at a old tree standing alone in one of the fields beyond the camp limits. Or trying to, at least, for although they had massacred the grass and displaced large quantities of soil from the surrounding area, the tree itself still stood tall and proud, like the flag of a fortress defying all efforts to reduce it.
Lancer wiped some of the smoke away from his face with one hoof before saluting Rarity. "Evening, ma'am. We may not be hitting much but at least we know these old ladies still work."
"But will they be of any use to us," Rarity asked. "Is there any point if they cannot hit their targets?"
"Practice will improve the aim, a little," Lancer said. "Although these things are near as old as Nightmare Moon, so they'll never be precise. But the zebras will come so tightly packed it will be hard to miss them, m'lady, and that's where these beauties will shine."
"I suppose so," Rarity said. "I've just been inspecting the camp."
"And what did you find, ma'am?"
"A lot," Rarity replied. "Speaking as a professional, is there anything here that we are desperately missing? What should we concentrate our efforts on?"
Lancer frowned. "That depends on you, ma'am, and what your plans are. If you mean to march on Canterlot before the fall then we should probably build more wagons to haul all our fodder down the road. But if you mean to winter here then we should probably fortify the camp, and look to build some sort of granary where we can lay in winter stores."
"I would rather march sooner rather than later," Rarity said. "For one thing I doubt Shining Armour would be marching to join us only to spend the winter here rather than in the Crystal Empire. But..." she looked away for a moment. "What are our chances if we march soon. Do we need the winter to train?"
"They are very green," Lancer said. "But you could spend ten years training them and they would still be green. Even my guards don't have experience of the kind of fighting we're looking at. Training can only do so much."
"So what you are saying is-"
"That it's entirely your decision, ma'am," Lancer said. His lips twitched upwards. "Welcome to command."
"Thank you so much," Rarity replied sourly.
Rarity ate her supper in her tent, alone, staring at the map while she levitated spoonfuls of lukewarm soup into her mouth, pondering the roads and hills that lay before her. Stay or move? March or winter? What should she do?
"Tell me a joke, Pinkie dear," Rarity sighed. "Rainbow, raise my spirits. Applejack, tell me to stop worrying. Fluttershy, help me to relax. Twilight...Twilight, darling, won't you take this weight off my back?"
But of course they wouldn't. None of them were here. Her friends were scattered to the four winds, and the only one who would be coming back anytime soon was Rainbow Dash, hopefully with more ponies to add to the gathering host. Her host. Her Grand Army of Equestria. Wasn't it just ridiculous?
Rarity put down her soup as her appetite deserted her. She stared at the map intently, as though if she stared long enough it might tell her what to do.
Stay or go? Her heart told her to march as soon as possible. Her hooves itched for it. Her instincts cried out for it. She wanted nothing more than to lead her army back to Canterlot and cast down Sunset's power, to free her friends, to free the city, to have everything back the way it was supposed to be. And yet her head recognised that it would do no good to march on Canterlot too soon only to be defeated before the city walls. She understood enough of war to know that she would get one chance to save Equestria, and if she fumbled that chance then her gallant army, what was left of it, would melt away like snow under the heat of the sun, not mention all the brave ponies she would have led to their deaths through her impatience.
So once again it came down to the question: could she win?
And, notwithstanding the confidence that she had feigned for Spike, Rarity had no idea what the answer was.
Rarity was awakened the next morning by the sound of commotion outside her tent. She lifted her head up off the table, and found that at some point in the night someone had draped a blanket over her.
Spike pushed open the tent flap. "Rainbow's back!"
Rarity's eyes brightened. "Wonderful!" She stood up. "Spike, did you do this?"
Spike nodded. "I didn't want you to catch cold."
"Thank you," Rarity murmured, kissing him on the cheek as she strode out of the tent.
"Rarity, there you are!" Rainbow Dash swooped down out of the sky to land in front of her. "Look who I found!"
The wonderbolts landed in the centre of the camp, accompanied by a large number of other pegasi in what looked from Rarity's small knowledge to be trainees flight-suits.
Spitfire strode quickly towards her and dashed off a brisk salute. "So, I hear you're in charge now. I'd offer my congratulations but I'm sure it's appropriate for the circumstances."
"Quite right," Rarity said. "All I really need is your cooperation."
"No, you need my obedience, and you've got it," Spitfire said. "Me and the rest of the Wonderbolts. When do we take Canterlot back?"
Rarity opened her mouth even as she was still deciding what to say, but in the end she said nothing, because she was distracted by the sudden shivering cold feeling upon her shoulder, like somepony freezing putting their hoof upon her coat.
And then a snowflake landed on her nose, tickling as it melted.
"What?" Rarity murmured. It wasn't supposed to snow, summer hadn't even ended yet. And yet it had been, unmistakably, a snowflake. And more were falling, not many, but a few, a gentle dew descending from the clouds forming above the camp.
What was even stranger was that the clouds were forming without the apparent aid of any pegasi.
"Rainbow," Rarity said. "Can you see anypony causing those clouds to form over our heads?"
Rainbow Dash shook her head, looking almost as puzzled as Rarity. "Nope. I don't see anypony."
"Misty!" Spitfire snapped. "Get up there and clear those clouds away."
Misty Fly nodded. "On it, boss." She spread her wings and rose up into the sky overhead, coming to a halt level with the gently expanding cloudbank, her wings beating gently to keep her hovering level with the clouds as chill winds began to blow around her.
Misty's hoof struck outwards, burying itself in the nearest cloud to her. Yet the cloud did not dissolve. It didn't even seem to get any thinner.
Misty tugged with her foreleg, as if she had stepped in some wet cement and was unable to get out.
"You okay, Misty?" Spitfire shouted.
"I'm just a bit stuck, boss," Misty said. "It's like something's got me." She punched the cloud with her other forehoove, only for that to get stuck as well. "I might need a little help here."
Spitfire sighed. "Soarin', go and help-"
Then Misty screamed.
Rarity gasped. Even at the distance separating her from the cloudbank she could see the ice emerging from out of the clouds to engulf Misty Fly. It spread along her forelegs and up her body, and Misty didn't stop screaming until her head was completely encased in ice.
Then the clouds dropped her - there was no other way to describe it - and she plummeted like a stone towards the ground.
Rainbow was the first pony off the ground, racing upwards to catch Misty in her forehooves as she fell, the weight bearing Rainbow to the ground for a moment before she could recover her balance and descend, in a gentle and controlled manner, down to the ground.
More and more ponies were gathering around now, or abandoning their duties to stare at the bizarre, unnatural and, it seemed, dangerous clouds gathering above their heads.
"What kind of clouds could do such a thing?" Rarity asked.
"Wonderbolts!" Spitfire's voice was thick with anger, and it cut through the whistling wind like a bugle call. The entire squadron rose at her command, following her into the blue, where the wind blew into their faces, until they beat their wings furiously at the clouds above, trying blow it away, to scatter it to the four winds.
They had no effect. Their seemed a laughter in the winds that mocked their feeble efforts.
And the snow continued to fall upon them in a gentle dusting.
"What in Celestia's name is going on?" Rarity murmured.