The Solution

by P-Jay

Chapter 2

Apollo flexed his wings, standing in the line. This was it, the moment his entire life had been leading up to. The decision that would dictate the rest of his life. It was time to see what type of Pegasus he was.

The Pegasus Tribe had two lifestyles the members within could pursue. There were the Battle Pegasi, who are drafted into the Guard, to train, and do their Tribe proud. Fight to protect the others, and assert dominance over the other Tribes. That's what they did. That was the glorious path.

That was the path he wanted.

On the other hoof, the alternative was...Laborer Pegasi. They were the backbone of the Tribe, working to build houses, sew clothes, smith equipment, trade with the other Tribes, and basically anything else the Battle Guard didn't do. It wasn't an easy life--but at least they were respected by their fellow Pegasi.

Apollo looked ahead, in the line. There was a simple test, to determine what kind of life you were gonna live, and you only got to take it three times. He could hear the dull grunt, as the one's at the front of the line had their try with the test. He shuffled nervously, looking behind him. The mare he saw had her eyes closed, mouth silently moving, as if recounting lessons. He couldn't blame her. He was going through what he'd do, when it was his turn, too.

He flexed his wings again. The test was simple. Fortify their wings, to make them razor-sharp, and slice through a block of rubber. A few judges examine how fast you were, how far you cut, and how long it took to execute. Apollo swallowed. Fortify was a technique exclusive to Pegasi--they strengthened their will in their wings, until they gained the desirable properties able to produce slicing power. Granted, almost every pegasus can use it, but only a few could make their wings harder then solid steel. In fact...Only two, total, in the Tribe could leave a shredded shield on a good day. Everyone else could only make their wings durable, leagues above it's normal state.

Apollo counted the number of ponies left in line, for the umpteenth time. Twelve. That's good, only a matter of time before it was his turn...He recounted his mother's advice, from their earliest memories, when he first inquired how someone passed the test.

'Just go for it--flex, aim, and attack.'

Apollo swallowed again. He needed to relax. After all, a nervous, flustered pegasus can't Fortify. It even causes the opposite effect, when a pegasus tries. A term used by most of the younger ponies, and a few of the adults, when this happens, was that they got 'jelly wings.' If a pegasus is swallowed by anxiety, and they attempt to Fortify...Their wings turn brittle, soft...Breakable. A piercing scream that had Apollo snapping his head to look at the front of the line, proved that fact.

A yellow pegasus, nursing a wing bent at an odd angle, was being escorted off the cloud.

'He must've been too hesitant,' Apollo thought to himself, feeling a pit of worry begin to form in his stomach. He rustled his wings, hoping the feeling'll go away. 'Hope he wanted to be a laborer, anyways.'

He sighed to himself. Long shot, there. If someone didn't want to be a Battle Pony, then they wouldn't be taking this test. Regardless, there was always the thought that the pegasus messed up on purpose, because a demanding parent made him take the test...?

Five ponies left. He wondered when the line got so short. Then again, this was a test that only took a few seconds. You just...Stepped up, attacked, and hoped for the best. Four ponies.

He flexed his wings. Three more. He wondered what would happen if someone was perfectly balanced between confidence and fear, Fortifying. Probably nothing. Two. He distantly wondered if he should start letting ponies go before him.

One.

He swallowed, stepping up to the five-feet long runway. There was, as he had expected, a rubber cube waiting, held in place by a large, cloud pillar. A hole carved inside the pillar, in which the rubber resided, around as high as Apollo's chest. The cube itself was roughly three feet long, and high. It looked slightly bruised, as if someone had been using it as a punching bag for years. Apollo grit his teeth, fixating his gaze on the target. He flexed his right wing, focusing his will, which slowly began to vibrate at a low frequency, singling that it was ready to use offensively. He took a few steps, before flying directly at it, twisting in midair to bring his wing's edge square across the rubber's surface. For a moment, it began to sink in, and Apollo felt an elated sensation in his chest.

That was before his wing was forced out, sinking no further, sending him spinning in the opposite direction he had intended, before landing face-first into the soft, plump cloud.

The first feeling he felt was confusion. Wasn't he confident enough, when he Fortified? Didn't he hit it hard enough? Was his wing not sharp enough? Didn't it sharpen, upon being Fortified? He stumbled up, onto his hooves, looking at his wing with a bewildered expression. He looked up at the red-furred pony staring at him, who made a mark on his paper. But Apollo knew what he wrote.

He'd failed the test. His dreams of battling against creatures that threatened ponies everywhere, attaining everlasting glory, gone. He bit back a tear.

"Good try." Was all he heard, as he began to fly off the cloud, towards the village. Which somehow, made the defeat all more stingy. Flying overhead the various cloud housings, before settling inside a neighborhood of the huts, trotting inside. His mom looked up, from polishing her armor.

"...How was it--oh." She started, stopping abruptly upon seeing his expression. Her task forgotten, she moved over to hug him. "I'm sorry..."

Apollo simply hugged back, wordlessly, sniffling once.

Well, at least he wouldn't be forced to be productive to the Tribe, until he was a 'fully grown' pegasus.

But that didn't sooth the crack in his will.

~~~

For the next few days, Apollo would wonder what went wrong. He didn't want to accept that he wasn't going to be a Battler. His mother his mother offered soothing words, saying 'its alright, you'll do the Tribe proud, just you wait...' But it only made him He would practice Fortifying, attacking the thickest clouds he could, but he was slowly realizing with a dreadful pain...That his wings didn't sharpen. They only grew durable. He would try again, and again, to slice clouds, but all he ever did was bend them at an awkward angle.

This worried him. Was there something wrong with him? Is he missing something, something crucial to being a pegasus?

He grew too anxious, even to confide to his mother about the subject. And aside from her, he didn't really have anyone...Seeing as his father had gone missing, a decade prior, when he went on a rescue mission, to the frigid mountains.

So he was alone with this knowledge. Wondering, what about his wings, was so...Dull?

A full week after the test, Apollo had been slumped over on a cloud, lazily spying on the distant Earth Tribe, wondering if some pony there was living out his dream. He turned his gaze, beginning to look towards the castle in the distance. Not terribly big--but enough so to ward off most creatures--but 'too small to house another Tribe.'

Apollo clenched his jaw. He hated the unicorns. They could've created a land where they could live away from the creatures. But then again, that'd require them to live on the ground. Inconceivable. Not that the unicorns would comply, anyways.

A moving figure caught his eye. A lone pony? Outside a Tribe? Did he have a death-wish--no, there was another. A smaller, more ancient pony trotting alongside the young one. Apollo squinted his eyes. What were they doing? It looked as if they had descended from the mountains, on their merry way towards the Earth Village.

Apollo watched intently. Most of the predators around those parts were nocturnal--it wasn't fully crazy for them to be walking at this time. But that didn't excuse Manticore's, Chimera's, and the dreaded monster that ruled these parts--the Basilisk.

"..."

He wondered if he should go down, and ask if they were out of their minds. But that'd leave him vulnerable to aerial predators. But those normally didn't hunt, until dusk.

After a minute's pondering, he decided on kicking his cloud towards the ground, allowing his vessel to sink rapidly. The two figures raised their heads, as he approached, one even getting ready to draw his weapon...Which Apollo found interesting, to say the least.

"Hey...Where'd you two come from?" He asked, still making sure to keep at least ten feet from the ground. He'd heard stories of cannibalistic ponies--and wasn't eager to see if it were true.

The old one spoke first. "From the mountains."

Apollo blinked--so it wasnt his imagination. "Really? What were you doing up there?"

"None of your business--" The tall one was interrupted.

"Peace, Ferric..." The old one said, looking up at Apollo, "I was simply...Securing peace, for ponykind."

Apollo cocked his head, having floated slightly higher when 'Damian' retorted. "...And how d'you think you'll do that?"

"..." The old pony smiled, nodding, as the other pony, albeit hesitantly, raised three sheathed blades--each of which shined with a different hue. Apollo's gaze was drawn towards the brightest one...The one as radiant as the morning sun. And he realized with a jolt that they shined this much while they were sheathed.

"...They're..." Apollo shook his head. "Magnificent."

"Farrier, isn't it unwise to show the enemy our--" He was silenced by a harsh stare from the elder pony.

"Ferric. All ponies are to be treated as allies. We are to be accepting, if we are to secure survival for all, in this world."

Ferric narrowed his eyes, before giving a huff, looking back up at Apollo. "..."

Apollo blinked. "Wait, so you're one of those pacifistic ponies, that don't think the Tribes should be divided...?"

Farrier slowly put the blades away. "Young pegasus, all will be revealed in due time. But for now...Please...Spread the news, of a new age that is approaching."

Apollo cocked his head. "New age?"

Farrier smiled, turning to begin his trek once more, onward to the Earth Tribe. "The age...Of the Solution."

'...He's crazy,' Apollo thought to himself. but he nodded regardless, floating upwards, beginning to head back to the giant cloud where the Pegasi lived. "Understood, sir..."

"Before you go..." Farrier's words halted Apollo.

"Yes?"

"...What is your name, young one?"

"Apollo Swiftwing."

The olden pony smiled. "...Well-met."

Apollo nodded again, before turning to begin zooming back to the village. Farrier continued towards the Earth Ponies, with Ferric following close behind. The two began to talk, but Apollo couldn't hear them clearly anymore at this point...

Author's Note:

hooray for abilities! these are the only two, i promise. or do i? Fortify being distantly canon, actually. after all, wings being used as weapons is actually quite common. well. PRETTY common. *looks at Apollo for a moment*

but once again--only setting up the idea behind how the Tribes operate. so far, we've seen the barbaric Earth ponies, and now the militant pegasi. unicorns next--and then the REAL plot begins.

but for now, yay! Apollo meets Farrier! :D just as a way of letting y'all know that plot is about to happen, as soon as he gets to the EP tribe. which is gonna be like, next chapter. XD