The World Within the Web

by Lord Max

Chapter I: One Pilgrim

The sun was rising over the city, illuminating the towers of the Citadel of the Six with a red-yellow light as Coin Counter walked through the curving streets. It was early in the morning, far too early for Coin’s taste, but the city buzzed with life nonetheless, filled with people who journeyed to and from the docks that he was only just leaving. The captain of the ship that had carried him, the Lightning Dust, promised that he would reach the capital of the Brony Collective in two weeks. Regardless of promises, it had taken three. Coin only hoped that his hosts would be understanding of his tardiness—from what he knew, they were not people to be kept waiting.

Even though the way was alien to him, it wasn’t hard for Coin to see where he needed to go. Six colored towers stretched over the horizon in front of him, like shining mountains in the distance. Coin turned down a street that snaked towards the gigantic structure, quietly giving thanks that they had made it so hard to miss. Of course, that was to be expected from a group that was so easy to notice.

Tracing his way further down the path, Coin observed a small crowd, gathered around a man calling out to anyone who would listen. The preacher was clad in butter-yellow robes and an upturned pink hood that covered most of his face, and spoke energetically as Coin passed by.

“For why else would I have a voice if not to sing their song, or have hands if not to stoke the fire they have started in my heart?” he proclaimed to the people gathered around. “The fire that burns away the paper sky and shows us the truth! To train my eyes and mind to look beyond the self of myself, and into the self of the one Magic? For where else can we fortunate friends turn? To the Chan, where they’re more content to hide behind masks and black hatred than see the truth? To the Authority, with their false law? Why, they can barely even stand our existence within their great ‘order’!

“No, my friends, there”—the preacher pointed to the Citadel—“there is where the true leaders lie. The World Beyond the Web has issued its call, and only the Six And One—whom small minds resist—can show it to us!”

A few people were nodding and cheering along with him, but just as many walked on indifferently, and one or two gave him dirty looks as they passed and booed at the would-be prophet. Coin tried to keep himself unnoticed when he heard how the preacher spoke of the Authority (though his thoughts on the Chan were true enough). He wondered how the man would react to one like Coin, who had been a Knight Regulator among the Moderators for years before leaving his old life and old name, and before pledging his life and loyalty to the Brony Collective. Not well, most likely.

It had not been easy for Coin to vacate his post in the Authority—bad blood still lingered between the Moderators and the Bronies, from the war. Not to mention the rumors about them, Coin thought. Those were the things that had concerned him most before he had joined the Collective, and some of that talk still did, truthfully. He had once heard that the community was filled with traitors, blood-letters, and cursed-men, and even that the leader of the Honest Friends, the group he had joined, was some kind of monster in the shape of a man. Coin didn’t believe most of them, but even the most eager convert couldn’t be completely free of doubt. He only hoped he was wrong entirely.

As Coin grew closer and closer to his destination, he could not help but look up in awe at what stood before him. The other Great Fandoms had monuments like this as well, but few had ever been built so impressively in so short a time. The towers he had seen in the distance before were even more breathtaking up close, each of them reaching high up into the sky and topped with a bell and a circle of six stones of six different colors. They were connected to an enormous building in the center built of white marble with lines of black stone running through them, and in the center of all of it was a huge dome made of gold supports and gigantic panes of glass shining like a second sun in the morning light. All of this devoted to so small a thing, Coin thought, his hesitation disappearing for a moment.

Continuing on his way, Coin passed by an impressive mural painted on the side of a large brick building that overlooked the street. Obviously done by Collective artists, the painting showed an idyllic village in a lush, green valley. In the background was a mountain with a gleaming city hanging off the side, and in the middle—above it all—was a violet star with six points. Finally, printed on the top and bottom of the mural was a question left by whoever created the work, 'Where is Equestria?' written in bold golden font.

It was a beautiful sight, but there was another message that someone else had scrawled at the bottom left corner. Written in a disorderly style with white paint was a simple question: 'Who is the Oathbreaker?'

The path to the Citadel of the Six moved into a large plaza with three fountains on either side, each with a different design on top. Looking around, Coin saw just how many brightly-colored figures were gathered around him. On all sides were people clad in outfits that showed dozens of different hues and shades: the yellow from earlier, but also blue, purple, orange, white, and bright pink as well as hundreds wearing combinations of colors that couldn't be seen on anyone else.

It was strange, however, to notice so many guards and armed men standing among the crowd. For every dozen or so colorful acolytes, there was one wearing a sword or carrying a spear with colored banners tied to the end. The eyes of several watchmen, both on the plaza floor and perched in the high guard-towers, followed Coin suspiciously as he passed.

Past the fountains, a bridge stretched across an artificial river which wound its way around the entirety of the Citadel. It was all very pretty to look at, but Coin couldn’t help seeing how well that river could become a moat in case of siege, and its towers and narrow windows viable places for defenders and archers. A palace, he thought, or a fortress.

At that moment, the bells began to ring. Looking up, Coin saw that there were two going off, one after the other in separate minarets of the Citadel. One bell was fastened in the tower lined with orange stones, and the other in the spire made of pure, pearl-white blocks. The sound coming from the bell in the orange belfry was noticeably deeper than the other, gong-ing heavily after the light sound of its ivory twin.

Coin passed by a few other robed people, and then came to a wide path that climbed a flight of stairs. On either side of the way were sets of guards, all wearing plate armor and orange capes. They all wore helmets that were colored yellow and printed with a red apple, and carried long spears with colored cloths tied to the end. As Coin climbed the tall staircase, the two guards standing in front of a great door approached him.

“What's your business here, citizen?” one asked as he put up a hand to block Coin’s path. The other hand tightened around the shaft of his spear.

Coin Counter fumbled nervously in his pocket and handed the guard a card that Coin had received weeks earlier. “I was invited. From Reddit, you see. I’m one of you, actually.” He tried to give a reassuring smile, but it only came out as panicked.

The guard read over the note, and then looked back. “Do you have the rest of your papers?” he asked, still suspicious.

Coin pulled out a bundle of forms and documents, and handed them to the guard. He looked over them intently, and then gave Coin a smile when he reached the end.

“Sorry about the security check, friend. You can’t be too careful.” He gave Coin a bow. “On behalf of the Brony Collective, welcome to the Citadel, brother.”

Unsure of what to do, Coin took back the papers and then gave a quick bow in return. The guard returned to his place, allowing Coin to pass by.

Walking forward, Coin stood before two huge doors that led into the main part of the building. The door on the right was white and lined with gold, while the left was dark black with silver running along the edges. In the center was a design of two horses, both with wings and horns, chasing one another in a circle as one carried the sun, while the other led the moon and stars. In the middle of all of it was a great star with six points, and at the bottom were a pair of handles to open the doors.

Coin Counter put his hand on one of the doors, but hesitated before going through. There was still a knot in his stomach, even more than he had been when he had first received the summons that asked him to come to the Citadel and meet the Wardens. The leaders of the Brony Collective were inside, he knew, but he still didn’t feel as though he deserved to see them.

Looking back down the path he had taken to get to the door, Coin saw that the plaza, filled with robed followers, the streets he had walked on, and even the docks he had come from were far away now. Coin sighed, and then slowly, reluctantly, pushed his way inside.

       “Sitting in my chambers, in the Magic Wing of the Citadel of the Six, it is difficult for me to begin recounting the young history of our fandom. At first, I was unsure as to why I might feel such a hesitation—though certainly rocked by our own share of violence, disruption, and even, dare I say, disharmony, surely I speak for most (if not all) of my fellows when I say that these years we have spent together have been among the happiest of our lives. I am aware, however, that this does not ring true of all times we have shared, and I thought at first that this might be the reason for my initial misgivings in writing this book.

“There are those among my friends for whom the memories of our early days in the masked-lands are still bitter, and those whose trauma suffered during our First Rise and first war is still very much intact. A sense of respect for the wounds we collectively and individually suffered, even in victory, was indeed one of my thoughts when I considered holding back. If time heals all wounds, perhaps more was needed before I began.

“But, if time might help some cope with the difficult patches of our past, it might also lead to losing the rest of it. In the subject of history, where first-hand accounts and direct evidence are paramount, the difference of a few years might end invaluable sources of information forever. How many witnesses of our earliest days are serving now in combat roles for our fandom, ones that may very well end in the ultimate sacrifice? The same is true for the servants of the Authority that intervened against us, and is undoubtedly so for the Channic anonymites that still dwell in their dangerous isles. How many voices have already been lost, and how many more might we lose before we are able to hear them?

“With this in mind, I set aside the temptation of allowing time to pass its course before embarking on my research. Other histories were consulted, actors both great and small from both sides found and interviewed, and surveys conducted after the fact were recorded as well. What I realize now that such searching is concluded is that my hesitation was not merely to avoid bringing up the bad memories of my peers, but for my own sake as well.

“The leviathan in the room is the question of bias. I will not hide my own allegiance from my readers: I am a Brony of the Brony Collective, sworn to the scholarly life of the Magic Friend. I make no secret of my friends, nor my superior: I have never had a talent for lying, at any rate. There is no doubt in my mind that some will then look upon any words I might write on the subject of this history and weigh it to be compromised due to these sympathies. It is a reasonable fear.

“I still say, though, that merely having a stance of one’s own does not necessarily mean that all truth or capacity for higher reason is thrown out. Even the High Enlightener, seated at Central in his charge of the Great Wiki, cannot be said to have no opinions of his own. Rather, it is in recognizing our bias and seeking to preserve only the objective truth regardless that good history is found, and that is what I have attempted here. Every effort I could make to keep my own personal thoughts from creeping in has been done as well as I could, and the use of various sources from many sides and places, as well as the aid of my judicious (and sometimes frightening!) editors should help attest to that. I have done what I can to keep my bias from entering uninvited—should that effort be found lacking, then let the blame rest with me alone.

“Finally, I would be remiss if I did not give my thanks. To all who allowed themselves to be consulted on this project, your aid was invaluable. My editors deserve every ounce of gratitude as well, for their tireless and merciless hammering of my raw words to turn something unrefined into something useful—my debt to them cannot be repaid. Special thanks go to my mother and father, always supportive even when they do not agree, and to my lord and mentor, who rules the Magic Wing in which I serve—your wisdom has never failed to guide me, nor to convince me to continue even when I thought it a useless effort. Had it not been for him, the manuscript of this might have been burned long ago!

“Of course, I must also dedicate this work to my Six Friends. Without the vision of the Six Who Are One, I would still be a young woman lost of all purpose, adrift at sea. Though it was the Six-Pointed Star that ultimately called me, it was all of the Elements alike that has made my time in this fandom important—to them, I offer everything in these pages.

“And, at the very last stretch and until my last breath, I thank you, my friends. Without all that you have done, there would be no force in the Web that could compel me to write as I have. No power in all the world within or without can compare to friendship. It is that friendship that guides me even now, in my chambers, in this Citadel of the Six. Thank you.”

— Introduction to The Brony War, a historical account of the First Rise in the Chan, by Lorelove.