//------------------------------// // 8 - Revolutin Stripes // Story: Limits of Mercy // by Beware The Carpenter //------------------------------// “Tell me again what your mane means?” Strongheart demanded. Sky Blaze sighed; knowing they’d been through this already, and knowing that making prisoners repeat stories to check for inconsistencies, was standard interrogation procedure. She hoped Sky Fire, wherever he was, was giving all the same answers. “It’s the logo of the Cloudsdale Weather Company,” she stated evenly. “There used to be many weather companies, competing for contracts to provide rain for different farms; each with their own colored rainbow which they displayed over the fields they supplied. If a farmer thought the crops looked greener on the other side of the fence, he always knew where to get his next rain shipment from. Cloudsdale began as a company town, founded by the Typhoon family. They had a rare gene that made their manes striped red, orange, yellow, purple, blue and green; so those are the colors they made their rainbows. In the late eight hundreds they invented new refining technologies that allowed them to manufacture purer clouds for less, and undercut their competition. They were on the verge of establishing an absolute monopoly on weather when Celestia nationalized the company to prevent them from charging exorbitant prices and taking over everything.” Strongheart nodded, “And you are descended from this family?” “Yes.” “This makes you what? Deposed royalty?” “Hardly, my great, great, great grandmother was a mistress of one of the Typhoon brothers, and had several children with him, including my great, great grandfather. He provided for her and his children well enough; but she wasn’t the only mistress he kept, and neither was he the only Typhoon who had affairs. Billionaire stallions seem to enjoy making herds of bastard foals; and their millionaire lawyers make certain that the estates remain secure. Today there are hundreds of pegasi with rainbow manes, and thousands more who dye their manes like this. However, many members of the Typhoon family, who still run The Weather Company, don’t have rainbow manes, since the gene is recessive, only manifesting in pegasi and often skipping a few generations.” “Why would someone dye their mane rainbow?” Sky Blaze shrugged, “Patriotism. With one of our diarchs in prison after a mass killing spree, the other hiding herself in isolation, and refugees coming in from where another royal alicorn fought a civil against her own people; a lot of Equestrians don’t like the idea of royal alicorns anymore. Rainbows are still the symbol of Couldsdale, pegasi ingenuity, wealth and the closest thing we’ve had to a pegasus empire in centuries. If the royal family falls or abdicates, these colors are the next logical symbol for pegasi to rally to. If that happened, I would dye my mane black.” “Why?” “Because despite our current problems, Celestia’s provided a stable government for over a thousand years and I still support her. I was born with my mane, it’s my heritage and a part of who I am, but if it got to the point where everyone who saw it believed that I was a revolutionary, it would no longer reflect who I am. These six colors are a symbol, but symbols change meaning just like words do and could potentially come to mean anything. If the world agrees the symbol means something I don’t believe in, my mane will change because of it.” Strongheart nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answers, though Sky Blaze knew that she wasn’t, otherwise she wouldn’t keep asking the same questions. Sky Blaze grit her teeth, hoping that she hadn’t said anything wrong as Strongheart gave a throaty laugh, reached into her satchel, pulled out a round pastry, and pushed it toward Sky Blaze. …………………………………………………………………………………………… “Apple Pie?” Sky Fire accepted the meal and took a small bite without question. He knew from the taste that it was drugged, just like the last three pies had been, but only with something that would calm him down and make it more difficult for him to lie. He swallowed. So far Strongheart had made two things clear; and that she wasn't going to hurt them as long as they didn't do anything she didn’t like, and a failed escape attempt by one of them would result in severe punishments for both of them. He'd been separated from Sky Blaze, but had been allowed to see her yesterday, and again that morning; just long enough for them both to know that the other was unharmed. Of course, escape was always possible; but for now he was still recovering from his trek through the desert, and wasn’t convinced Strongheart wasn’t really on their side. At the very least they shared a common enemy, and after the ambush in the gorge it had seemed like everything was going to be alright. Then Sky Blaze saw her saddlebag in one of the wagons their captors had been pulling and asked if she could have it back. Strongheart looked like she was about to agree, and then Sky Blaze needed to open her big mouth, and ask if she could at least have her flute back which meant a lot to her since it have been a gift from her friend Zecora. That had set everyone off again. Sky Fire didn’t know how the buffalo knew her, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the old shrew doing something to piss the buffalo off if she’d passed through here; or charlatan them into thinking she was some kind of divine messenger. Since then however, they’d been prisoners; separated, but treated kindly as long as Strongheart didn’t decide the oath Sky Blaze had sworn on the name of a dragon had been a lie, and needed to kill them. Then there were the apple pies that also seemed present at every meeting-slash-interrogation-slash-getting-to-know-you session. He guessed they were endlessly amusing to Strongheart from the constant squirming at the end of her lips whenever she offered them, but didn't know why. He guessed that the buffalo had recently raided some supply caravan, and this was the food they had the most of, or else they just really didn’t like apple pies. “So you were telling me about Cloudsdale," continued Strongheart from across the table, “and how your great, great grandmother had had an affair with a Typhoon brother.” “… Great, great, great grandmother;” corrected Sky Fire slowly. “Your sister said it was your great, great grandmother.” Strongheart challenged, checking her notes. “She’s wrong then.” “If you say so," said Strongheart, scribbling in her notes, “What else is your sister wrong about?” Sky Fire raised an eyebrow, “Is that a trick question?” “Humor me.”