//------------------------------// // Behind the Lines // Story: Blueblood's War // by OTCPony //------------------------------// The streets of Ponyville were almost deserted. There was none of the Hearth’s Warming cheer that usually filled the town at this time of year, and almost none of the houses were decorated. Curtains were drawn, and if ponies went outside they went about their business quickly and with their heads down. The streets, filled with snow that morning, were now a grey slurry churned up every time a company of troops marched past. The snow itself had been swept into the gutters in ragged banks that became darker and darker with each passing hour. General Neigh shivered as he looked out the windows of his office in Ponyville Town Hall. It had once belonged to one of the town’s councillors, but Mayor Mare and her staff had been banished to a tiny ground floor office and the building taken over by the Equestrian Republican Army, for Ponyville was now a town under military occupation and all business was the Army’s business. From here they formed the first bulwark of the Republic’s struggle against the old regime. That was what the newspapers said anyway, Neigh thought bitterly. They called him a revolutionary hero, a principled officer who had helped overthrow a tyrannical government. That wasn’t what he was. He hadn’t wanted a war, either. All he’d hoped for was a government that would have provided for his soldiers. Well, they’d certainly done that, by putting them all back into uniform and sending them to finish the job Neigh had started. And what a job it was! Neigh had been named Supreme Commander of the Republican Army, and with that came a new uniform and new rank insignia, and an assignment to Ponyville to oversee the training of two new armies. That was all they did, really. Train, patrol occasionally, and grumble. His new soldiers liked grumbling. They had signed up after being fed tales of glorious victories and heroic causes, but now in the field they were confronted with the boredom and privation of camp life. They grumbled about the cold, they grumbled the food, they grumbled about martinet drill instructors, and they grumbled about how poor the leave was. His officers had been instructed to watch closely for signs of potential desertion, but most of them were new recruits as well. An angry, imperious voice suddenly sounded through the wall. “Sacrifices must be made in the struggle against the counter-revolution, Ms. Heartstrings!” Neigh groaned. As well as training and grumbling, they were also requisitioning. The army was poised to liberate Equestria from the Royalists, but before it could do that it needed food, warm clothing, and quarters. It could only get those from the civilian population, and the necessity of that sickened Neigh. A soldier fought to protect those who could not protect themselves, but how could they claim to do that if they stole civilians’ food and homes? Neigh cursed and stood. Maybe he could rescue this situation. He strode out of his office and trotted a short way down the corridor to what had once been Mayor Mare’s office. Waiting outside was a short queue of ponies, who shot him looks of disgust as he marched towards him. Neigh did his best not to look away. He felt as much as they did that he shouldn’t be here. Even his uniform felt wrong, for in place of the old red coats and beloved regimental facing colours of the Royal Army they now all wore the blue-and-white “National Uniform”, and instead of the crown, pip, and crossed sword-and-baton insignia of a General, Neigh wore four simple, silver stars. He turned away from them and strode into the office. “What the bloody hell’s going on, Pace?” Representative-on-Mission Perfect Pace lounged behind Mayor Mare’s desk. From his slicked-back blonde mane to his bow tie, every inch of him seemed to reek inviolability. The Representatives-on-Mission had been sent out by the Committee of Public Safety to coordinate civil support for the army, which effectively turned them into petty dictators. Perfect Pace oversaw all requisitioning and quartering for the army in Ponyville, and while Neigh might be disliked, Pace was hated. “Civil affairs business, General,” said Pace lazily. “Nothing to worry yourself with.” “General!” piped up the Unicorn who had been arguing with Pace. She was a mint-green mare with a lyre cutie mark. “Your troops have been quartered in my library without warning!” “May I know your name, madam?” asked Neigh quickly, before Pace could ruin anything else. “Lyra Heartstrings,” she said indignantly. “And as I was saying…” “According to the town records, Ms. Heartstrings’ home is a two-bedroom cottage with more than enough room to accommodate a platoon!” snapped Pace. “We knocked out a wall to make space!” shouted Lyra. “They’re in my library! Do you know how rare some of those scrolls are?!” “We shall have time for scrolls after the Royalists are crushed!” “Representative!” shouted Neigh, before this could escalate any further. “Is the hall downstairs not empty?” “We can’t quarter troops in Town Hall! I need to conduct Committee business undisturbed!” “It’ll only be in the auditorium. I imagine we could fit two companies in there.” Besides, we’re not exactly going to have many public hearings. He turned to Lyra. “I apologise for this inconvenience, Ms. Heartstrings. I shall have the necessary orders issued by the end of the day.” Lyra muttered a grudging “thank you” as she swept out of the office. Perfect Pace grunted in irritation and toyed with his pen. “Next!” The next pair of plaintiffs was an odd couple. One of them was a wizened old mare with a green coat and a grey mane. She could not have many winters left. The other was the biggest Earth Pony Neigh had ever seen, with a deep red coat and an apple for his cutie mark. “Mr McIntosh,” said Pace in a bored tone. “More issues with your quota?” “Eeyup,” growled the big stallion. “Ah’ve told ya before an’ ah’ll tells ya again, ain’t no way ah can harvest that many apples in that amount o’ time. Not a’ this time of year. Not by mahself.” “We are in the process of sending you volunteer workers from Canterlot. Volunteers left unemployed by the incompetence of the old regime!” Neigh resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn’t that he disagreed with that statement, but a belief repeated too many times quickly began to sound dishonest. “Well ya can send as many as ya like, sonny!” shrilled the old mare. “But we gots nowhere ta put ‘em! An’ wha’ d’ya expect us ta feed ‘em if ya takin’ all the apples?!” “These are trying times,” said Pace unsympathetically. “And any farming family who cared about their business prospects would be wise to keep their complaints to a minimum. Especially if one of their family members was known to be colluding with counter-revolutionary forces.” It took all of Neigh’s self-control not to bury his head in his hooves. An icy silence filled the room. Big Macintosh took his grandmother’s hoof and led her from the room without a word. Pace sighed and shook his head. “You see why we need this revolution, General? These ponies have no idea what’s good for them. No wonder that Princess settled here.” Big McIntosh and Granny Smith strode through the evening chill away from Town Hall. Big Mac was muttering under his breath. “Now tha’ll do, Big Mac,” scolded Granny Smith. “Ain’t nothing’ll come of carping ‘bout it. Best thing we can do is make sure this darned war ends quickly.” Big Mac smiled. “An’ get Applejack and Princess Twiligh’ home.” The trees of Sweet Apple Acres were rapidly going bare and the orchards were a thick soup of slushy mud, trampled grass, and black, rotting leaves. But half the trees still had apples hanging off them. Without Applejack to help the harvest, Big Mac knew that they would stay there, and no amount of volunteers sent from Canterlot would stop most of the harvest from going to rot. Sitting in a bare tree, the wooden box that was the Cutie Mark Crusaders Clubhouse stood out. Until recently, the tiny treehouse had been a fortress, the product of the Crusaders’ abortive human defence programme. Neigh’s soldiers had requisitioned the barbed wire, but the Clubhouse’s windows were still boarded up, which was exactly how the Apple family wanted it. The darkness was closing in rapidly as Big Mac reached up to the balcony and tapped out a pattern of knocks with his hoof. A ladder descended and he and Granny Smith hurried up into the treehouse. Inside were Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, grinning and having the most fun out of any pony there. With them, huddled around a candle beneath thick blankets, were four larger ponies – three Unicorns and an Earth Pony. “Do you have the patrol schedule?” demanded Octavia Melody. Granny Smith retrieved a sheet of paper covered with timings and routes from under her neckerchief. “Ain’t nopony suspect a kooky old lady,” she chuckled. “Got ‘em all when ah wis at the market.” “Yeah, and we’ve been watching the night patrols!” beamed Scootaloo. “You’ve got a clear window from midnight to one o’clock!” Vinyl Scratch took off her glasses and cleaned them on her blanket. After days slogging through the countryside, they were close to opaque. “Well that gets us out of town. What then?” “Y’all can either head fir Twiligh’ down Ponydale or go through the White Tail Woods ta Princess Celestia,” said Big Mac. “Firs’ ways more direct, but there’s less cover. Second way’s longer, but we know folk tha’ way ‘round Foggy Swamp who can help ya’ll through the worst of it, and ya probably won’t be seen.” Shivering beneath his jacket, Night Light looked up. “If we go south, we can get to Twilight...” “Our priority is to get you to safety, Mr Light,” said Octavia. She nodded at Vinyl, who was still carrying a thick file under her hat. “And get that information to the Royalists. What we have with us may turn the war in Celestia’s favour.” Big Mac had to admit that Octavia did not sound convinced. The two former secret agents had barely escaped Canterlot with Twilight Sparkle's parents before Blueblood’s net closed, and had spent days fleeing through ancient mineral mines and caves in the Canterhorn that most ponies had forgotten even existed. Then they made the soaking wet crossing of the Reinine Valley, travelling only by night, until they had staggered into Ponyville to find Twilight fled and Vinyl and Octavia’s home occupied by troops. They had been holed up in this freezing treehouse for nearly a week, and even Twilight's indefatigable mother Twilight Velvet had fallen sullen and silent. “You’ve done a great service to Equestria,” continued Octavia. “We’ll take the White Tail Woods route.” “Good choice,” said Granny Smith. “Ah’ll bring ya’ll some dinner and some fresh supplies afore ya go. Oh, an’ by the way, ya’ll are gonna need some flameproof boots, a lion tamer’s chair, a snake-charming flute, an’ a hunk of ricotta...”