A Circle Has No End: Volume I

by Gladi Writes

Ballad of Wildcard I

Wildcard sipped at a cup of cider, and sat back in his chair. The bar was a dank, dark, and smokey pit of despair in Snowy Cove, and the stone floor had definitely seen its share of drunken fighting. These days though the bar was almost always inhabited by zebras on leave, and it had been this way ever since they invaded a month ago. Wildcard had been there when the first tanks rolled through the streets, greeted by the cheers of the besieged citizens of Snowy Cove. For a long time they had lived under the constant threat of the griffon-backed Confederacy coming knocking, and now they were free of that fear.

Zebra occupation came at a price though, and the townspeople soon realized that as their rations were emptied, and the town was brought under military governance. They were part of the Zebra Empire now, whether they accepted it or not.

Wildcard enjoyed his drink, and listened in on the gossip around him, while he waited for a certain zebra to enter. A few minutes later, exactly at noon, the door opened and a well-decorated Zebra soldier entered. Wildcard sat up; his contact had arrived.

The zebra made his way through his comrades, dodging a few swinging mugs, and made his way to the table at which Wildcard sat, waiting.

“What do you have for me this week?” he asked, and sat across from the changeling.

Wildcard smiled, and sat back with his legs on the table.

“Nothing, really. The griffons are pulling back to the Wayfarer line, just like you thought. They’re having second thoughts about this whole thing, General. If you break the Magenta line, the entire southern theatre will collapse, and this “confederacy” will be yours.”

The general, a zebra who had never actually given his name to Wildcard, and had gone to some lengths to conceal his identity (General Riffen, three stars, born in Volgostag to parents Lillen and Trotter, favourite colour is blue), sighed with relief and took off his hat.

“Thank the Emperor for that. We’ve invested a lot in this campaign, and the Saddle Arabians have taken advantage of it. We’ll beat them yet, but Volgostag…” he trailed off.

“Nevermind that. Good work, and thank you. The Empire owes you, and the Empire pays its debts. You need only to call on us, and we’ll be there,” he said, and slipped his hat back on.

“Oh, I’ll call General. Don’t you worry,” Wildcard said, and sipped at his drink.

“General Riffen.”

Riffen frowned, and took off without another word. Wildcard enjoyed the rest of his drink, and then paid the barkeep before slipping out into the street.

Winter had come in all its glory, but this far south it was a temperate season. Snowy Cove was named as such for the snow of the mountains around it, not in the cove itself, and down here only a thin sheet of damp snow heralded winter. Today was colder than usual, and Wildcard shivered as he walked down the street.

He walked past a vendor hawking “fresh” fish, and towards the gates out of the town. Those gates were guarded by two enormous machines of war now, dual tanks that served no real defensive purpose this far behind the lines- but reminded the population who was in charge.

Wildcard walked past, paying them no mind, and continued through the open gates down the stone path that led, eventually, to the active front line. If one were to continue down this road for a day, they would come across twenty thousand Zebras, backed by the greatest military technology ever constructed, battling a force thrice that size, but fighting with zero logistical capacity. Spitfire had cut them off- a thousand miles ahead the Magnificent stood, blocking any reinforcement.

The confederacy the griffons had forced into place was eating itself to try and survive the siege, but it would fall eventually. Winter had come, and they had no magic to stave off its effect.

Wildcard had seen this all first hoof. The first month out here he had spent spying behind the lines, and analyzing his own life while he worked. He wondered who he was, and who he had been, and who he was going to be.

In Clevenhoof, he had seen the griffon plans for the region, their entire overarching goals. They wanted to conquer the south, and then fortify it. They had no plans for invading Equestria; because they knew they couldn’t hold it. Wildcard had studied those plans, and considered what to do. If he passed the information along to Equestria, they would know not to fear invasion, and could re-focus into bolstering their fleet. If they did though, that put the hive in danger. So he had been faced with a question- Equestria, or his people in the south? Shining Armour was ready to abandon the Hive, but here he had a chance to reverse that.

He sent the information by courier, and discussed it with Snowblind. Snowblind supported Wildcard's decision, and his reasoning astounded Wildcard.

“Equestrians are our people, Wildcard. We and the ponies are one and the same, and what’s good for Equestria is good for us. Let Chrysalis rot in the hive, we don’t need her. Anyone that stays with her, is just as bad as she is.”

In Stagville, weeks later, Wildcard had met one of the resistance leaders. In the burned buildings, toppled by months of warfare, he spoke at length of his history, and of daring feats pulled off on a razors edge. He was a heroic stallion, but Wildcard never learned his name, and he would be forgotten by history. The changelings had fostered a great many small pony resistance groups such as his in the south, but as soon as the Equestrians started pulling forces off the southern line, the griffons came down on them with a swift brutality. He was the only one left, from hundreds before, and that night he gave gasped out his last words; “Damn the Griffons.”

Wildcard stayed there for some time, living amongst the poor refugees subsisting off the bare minimum, scrounging in the muddy ruins day by day. It was a terrible life, and yet they continued to thrive just the same. Even as the sounds of gunfire rang out at night, they told stories around barrel-fires, and held dances in bomb craters. There was strength in the common people, and it was inspiring. When he left that city, just as the Zebras arrived, he left a changed pony. He would make himself a better person, he would put aside his past, and he would walk a new path. It would be a more difficult path, but he couldn’t deny it now. He had seen the strength that lay in the hearts of ponies, and sought to bring that strength out in himself.

His next stop had been a town far behind the griffon lines, Clearwater. It had once been a popular vacationing spot, famous for its clear lakes for swimming and fishing, but was now crushed under the jackboots of Griffon occupiers. They had drained the lakes, and consumed their stocks of fish. Despite the tremendous odd, the people of the town fought, and the way they did it astounded Wildcard. They ostensibly did everything their occupiers asked, but kept up resistance in secret. Machines broke, food vanished, and weapons disappeared. Nobody, not a single soul, ever gave up who was doing it despite every effort on the Griffons to bribe, threaten, and extort them.

The griffons had dealt with it for a long time, but couldn’t figure out which townspeople were rebellious, and which were not. So one night they herded the entire population into the town hall, and set it ablaze. They destroyed an entire population to stop what was perhaps a dozen resistance fighters, and Wildcard watched it all disguised as a Saddle Arabian. In those flames he saw a reflection of himself, and remembered the lengths he had gone to destroy threats. Was what he did so different?

That had been his last outing, and on the way back to the west he reflected on what he had seen. His thoughts returned to Celestia’s monologue, and how justice would be “knowing he never slept again.” For a long time he didn’t, his mind racked with unending questions. What was justice, in his case? He had done awful things, and he realized this now. How would he ever repent, to pay back his debt? What was justice for him?

Snowblind had more wisdom to share on that when he returned to their snowy-cabin.

“Justice, for you, is to carry this burden until you die. Wildcard, I honestly think you’re not a bad person at your heart but what Celestia said is true; you have done a great deal of wrong. You’ll never quite get over it, it will always eat away at the back of your mind, and you’ll always question yourself. That, I think, is your justice.”

He was right, and Wildcard accepted it. Guilt was his penance, and he would forever bear a guilty conscience. He wouldn’t give up though, that would be an even greater injustice than everything he had done combined. Wildcard had a lot to offer his people, and Equestria, and he would fight on even through his doubts.

For First Class, a guilty conscious was worth it. She had said the same about him, which worried him greatly. She was heading down a dark path, the same path Wildcard had walked, and he needed to stop her. He needed to set her right before she made the same mistakes, and tomorrow he would go back to Equestria.

One thing still bothered him though, greatly. Did he truly love her, or did he only love her for who she was, for her station? If she had been born an earth pony, would he still love her?

That was an interesting thought, since it led him down a line of questioning just what “First Class” was. If she was, as he thought, an intelligent and charming, resourceful and witty pony, with a fiery heart and courageous soul, then wouldn’t she have that office anyway?

Wildcard loved power, yes, that much was true. He loved First Class not because she was the key to his own power though, he loved her because she was who she was, today. Her heart, her mind, her soul; these were the power of First Class. He loved her, and he loved power, and both were one in the same. She was power!

It still didn’t quite convince him, but it convinced him enough that he would return all the same. He wanted what was best for her, and for now it seemed that included him, thankfully. He also desperately wanted to see his foal, which was due to be born any day now.

Wildcard arrived, after hours of walking and pondering, and the gate to the cabin he had made his home alongside Snowblind. The gate was open, and Wildcard smiled as he crunched through the snow, happy to know his friend was home. He stamped his hooves clean on the doorstop before pushing open the door, and then froze in horror as he flung it open.

Before him lay Snowblind, lying still on the floor in a puddle of his own green blood. A dagger stuck out from his back, and on the wall behind him a message had been painted in white.

“WE HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER.”

Wildcard fell on his hooves, and screamed to the sky. He screamed, and screamed, until his throat bled with exertion, at which point he rolled over and cried.

His only true friend was dead. The only purely innocent soul he had ever known, taken long before his time by a political feud that didn’t even really effect him. He had been dragged into this unfairly, and paid a price he didn’t owe.

As the shock wore off, Wildcard's despair slowly shifted to rage. He dragged his friend's corpse out into the yard and buried the changeling, which took a good deal of effort because of the rock-hard soil, but he did it anyway. It was nightfall when Wildcard finished, and broke apart a bit of the fence to use as a grave-marker.

Wildcard collected his coat and gun. The last thing he did in Snowy Cove was to set fire to the cabin, then took to the sky and headed north.

Justice be damned, Chrysalis is going to die.

____

First Class stirred in her bed, and yawned as she awoke. It was still late at night, but something outside had disturbed her sleep. She leaned over and hit the switch for the lamp, and sighed with relief to see her foal still sleeping in its crib.

Something slammed against the wall outside, and she jumped in her bed. Just as she slid out to see what was going on, the door opened. Outside it was dark, as dark as in her room, but she paid no mind to that. She gasped with surprise and happiness to see her husband looking back at her, and was about to leap forward to hug him when she noticed he was holding a dagger.

“W… Wildcard?” She asked.

Wildcard looked at her, and smirked. “none so shameful,” he said, and drew his dagger back.

“W… Silver!” First Class shouted, and backed against the wall.

The changeling, whoever it was, kept the dagger drawn and flanked around the other side of the bed. He glanced at the crib, and then back at First Class.

“We’ve come for what’s ours.”

First Class blinked, and before she could do anything herself Silver Shield leaped in from the doorway and tackled the changeling. His dagger slid over to First Class, and she quickly picked it up. Another changeling slid into the doorway, and First Class darted to block him. She swiped at him with the dagger, and he drew back momentarily.

“Silver, what’s going on!?”

“They’re h..” Silver grunted as he traded blows with the changeling “… here for the foal!”

First Class wasn’t going to give up her foal without a fight. She snarled and lunged at the changeling before her, and pinned him against the opposite wall of the hallway. He gasped as the air was knocked out of him, and kicked at First Class. She took the hit in the chest, and was thrown back against the floor.

The changeling leaped over her, back towards the room, but her hoof shot upwards holding the dagger just as he did. It stick in deep, and his body slid against the wall, leaking green blood onto the tile floor.

First Class darted back into her room, and felt the bitter cold of the outside air against her face. The window was open, and a dark figure was receding into the night. First Class screamed, and leaped for the window.

A hoof caught her leg, and she glanced back to see Silver Shield holding her. He was fading fast, and bleeding from a dozen different wounds.

“Don’t… go… after… They’ll expect that. Wait… for help. Wildcard… is coming," he gasped, and his hoof released, and went limp and fell to the floor alongside his head.

First Class hovered in place, with her wings nearly buzzing with adrenaline. Every part of her wanted to chase that changeling down and tear him limb from limb, but she was smarter than that. There would be more of them out there, waiting, and she would be torn from the sky.

First Class heard a cough, and stepped out of her ruined room to find the changeling she had stabbed still faintly grasping to life. She stared down at him, fire visible in her eyes. She put a hoof to his neck, and pressed with it as she leaned in.

“Where are they taking her?” she growled.

The changeling coughed, and spat out a bit of green blood, “Home… to her mother,” it said.

First Class pressed harder, “I am her mother!”

The changeling, despite death clawing at him, laughed, “No… you are just the vessel that carried her. Chrysalis is the mother, and for a long time she has wanted…”

First Class leaned in closer, and felt the changeling's last breath. She released her grip on his neck, and his body slid to the floor.

First Class calmly, collectedly, picked up the phone in her room. To her surprise it still worked, and she was able to dial Luna. The Queen's groggy voice greeted her, asking what could be so important at such a time in the morning.

First Class said only this: “Chrysalis has signed her death warrant,” and hung up the phone. Then she leaned back on her bed, and laughed hysterically. Chrysalis was such an utter fool, and her "plan" was so totally demented. Alone, surrounded by bodies, she could only laugh at the sheer foolishness, and cry at the horror.

Outside there was another noise, and she picked up Silver Shield's blade as she rolled off the bed, and came against the wall as she heard hoofsteps outside. She waited for the intruder to approach, and then saw it stick its head inside. It trotted in, and leaned over Silver with it's horn glowing vibrantly with magic. First Class watched, slightly confused, as the green magic engulfed Silver and he gasped for air. He was saved.

“You can't die yet Silver, we've got work to do," he said, and levitated the sleeping form of Silver Shield to the bed.

In shock, First Class dropped her dagger and it clattered to the floor. The figure turned and for a few moments the two simply stared at each other.

“Wildcard…”

“First…”

Their embrace said more than words could, and they both turned to look out the window, hooves over each others shoulder. Outside in the hall the lights went back on, and a Night Guard squad could be heard shouting as they rushed toward the room.

“We’re going to get her back First, I promise you. We’re going to get Odo back, and send that bitch straight to Tartarus,” Wildcard said.

“You don’t need to promise me that, Wildcard. I’m coming with you. I want to see her face before we end it. I want to see her cower in fear. I want her to know the pain she’s brought so many others- or failing that; just pain,” First Class said back.

“Together then,” Wildcard said.

“Together.”

The Night Guards swept in behind them, and then backed to the side to allow Malgavian entrance. The two turned to him, while his soldiers collected the bodies of their fallen outside.

Malgavian glanced at Silver, and then to Wildcard.

“What can we do to help?” he asked.

Wildcard grinned evilly, and they began to plan.

Comments

[TimidClef]

Ohshiiiiii

CALLED IT!

Chrysalis is going to bucking die...

[TimidClef]

Also - you asked for comprehensive feedback, and you shall receive, my friend. I mailed you a link to Google doc with comment markup on IRC.

[The Sexy Barbarian]

Well it seems Chrysalis is stupider than she looks. What the hell was she thinking antagonising a changeling who has practically infinite power, being that he has someone who loves him and is therefore constantly supplying him with power. Yeah, no-one survives that.
s2.quickmeme.com/img/a1/a154d247b5825a80425b33ebdf9135cbe4c9e16f8e8887af3c41b3e99773c167.jpg

[Mother3Forever]

5176924 ...your avatar is perfect. Just replace "We have a Pinkie Pie", with "You pissed off Wildcard."

[Phantasma Eeria]

Chrysalis: I have an army
Celestia: We have a Wildcard
Wildcard: Chrysalis...you gon' die

Need MOAR reads