A War

by Comma Typer

Not Free to Destroy

One thing that Shining Armor's manor could boast of:

It had a decent conference room.

A varnished wooden table was the centerpiece, standing on top of an intricately designed rug with a complex of patterns stitched and woven to create a masterpiece. It would be alright to ignore all the trifles that this resplendent and ostentatious indoors territory for official Equestrian appointments and discussions had to offer—fine pottery, valuable paintings, distinct colognes, and plates of crunchy biscuits. What one should focus on was the table, the rug, and the personages seated there.

Those personages plus one who stood and carried a bomb with his forehooves, never breaking a sweat.

All eyes were on that explosive.

"What we have here," Radar began, "is a bomb that—"

"We can clearly see that," broke in one of the other generals, sporting a short yellow mane and some freckles.

Radar cleared his throat. "Yes, you're right...but, it's not just any old bomb! No! It's a bomb dozens of times more powerful than any you could ever imagine!"

"What would be the radius of a typical explosion?" an air force marshal asked, twirling his hoof around. "A hundred meters?"

Radar laughed and rolled back his head. "No, Nimbo! I've seen it and it's about two thousand meters, give or take some hundreds."

Everyone else looked at each other, straightening themselves on their chairs, and staying silent.

"Yes, this bomb can take out most, if not all, of the Crystal Empire. It will kill Sombra, eliminate the mind control power of the Crystal armor, and free the Crystal population still alive."

Silence.

Shining stood up. "General Radar, this bomb of yours...if it's really that destructive..."

Radar nodded. "It is! I've tested it!"

"Tested it where?"

"In the deserts of Southern Equestria," he replied. "No one was living there, so I was free to drop prototypes of this thing."

Shining sighed. "Well...as much as I want to see the end of the war—"

Doors swung open, revealing a panting guard levitating a letter and an envelope.

"Prince Shining Armor! We have an emergency on our hooves! Sombra's putting out an experimental weapon and it flashed through the sky over the Badlands!"

"What?!" was everyone else's reply, including that of Radar who almost dropped his bomb at the news.

Shining trotted to the guard and grabbed the envelope.

"Reports are scarce, but the testimonies we got said it came from some unsanctioned airship," the guard went on, drenched in sweat. "I don't know if Sombra's getting his supplies from the black market or criminal organizations or—it's...what if...was that the only one there?! 'Cause I don't know—"

"Stop it," Shining ordered, agitated, opening the envelope and taking out its contents.

The contents were pictures and photographs of ash and the burned remains of said airship. The dead bodies of so many changelings plus several ponies—and that of a deer, too...

Radar gasped, but covered his mouth quickly.

Nimbo cast a glance at him. "You know those ponies?"

Radar shifted his eyes. "Uh, y-yes! They were my friends back in school! I do recognize them!"

Shining turned round to face Radar. "Funny that your friends ended up on the wrong side of the tracks." He tapped on one of the photos. "From the looks of it, they're all participating in illegal business...used to, until this."

Another general stood up, resting all his weight on the table. "Captain Shining Armor, if Sombra has a hold of a similar bomb, then that means Equestria is under an imminent threat!"

Whispers, murmurs arose from high command at the table. Several shoved their plates of biscuits aside, plopping stacks of papers and maps and plans and back-up plans and back-up plans for those back-up plans.

The doors swung open again, ushering a lovely Princess Cadance inside, wearing a concerned face. "What's happening here? Is there a problem?"

"It can't be possible," yet another general stated, rising from his seat. "It's extremely improbable that the both of us developed these bombs at the same time without any interference."

Shining held up a hoof toward his wife, facing at that general who just spoke. "Are you saying that Sombra stole our new bombs?"

Radar shook his head, still holding the bomb. "No, no! They haven't stolen any of it!"

"How are you so sure about that?" Nimbo asked. "Did you leave any bombs at the desert?"

"I got the rest of the bombs in the crate!"

Radar then proceeded to walk to the crate at the corner of the room.

"I counted them all too many times."

The whispers and murmurs became heated arguments, squabbles, bickerings—panic rising—

"Quiet, everypony!"

And everypony went quiet, looking at a frustrated Shining Armor.

Cadance stepped outside of the room, closing the doors with her magic as they glowed blue.

Shining breathed in, breathed out.

Silence.

Radar on one side, everyone else on the other.

He put his bomb down on the floor, his forelegs quivering.

"General Radar," Shining began in a low voice, "you have to explain yourself. If Sombra has acquired these bombs you invented, then we are in big trouble—that pony has no idea what kind of power he wields in his hooves. But, you said that all of your bombs are here, and I see no reason to believe that you're lying."

The guard gave Shining a sour look.

"Tell me the whole story, General Radar. I'm assuming that the airship was destroyed by one of your bombs. Was it an accident?"

Radar gulped. "Alright! I admit it! I'll tell all!"

The rest of high command took a collective step back, every one of them standing up from their seats if they had not already. Shining himself was the only one who kept his place, but even he recoiled.

"I asked for a three-week leave because I wanted to develop something that would finish this war as soon as possible, as quick as possible, as early as possible! The new bloods here don't know anything about the magnitude of what I had to face everyday at my post!"

Planted his hooves firmly on the rug.

"How do I break the news to families I myself broke because I had a lapse of judgment in strategy?! When those pacifists and other protesters and rioters ask me if I have a clean and good conscience after all of this? I've seen a lot of well-intentioned ponies go out to war with happy hearts and, in a week's time, they're cold, sober, and don't wanna talk to anybody—and I take responsibility for my actions! Multiply that by one full year, and you know what? You know what?! I don't want to to drag it on any further, which is why this—" pointed at the bomb on the floor "—will be what saves us from any more hurt, from any more pain! It will save me!"

"But, General Radar," Nimbo said, "don't you know how much collateral damage you'll cause if we strike at the Crystal Empire with that menace?! The civilian casualties—"

"There are no Crystal civilians!"

Radar kicked the bomb.

High command rushed to Radar, restraining him, while Shining galloped to the bomb and carried it away from the struggling general holding his hooves out to his creation.

"Are you insane?!" Shining yelled. "You could've killed all of us and Princess Luna! You could've burned down Canterlot, too!"

He placed it down carefully.

The generals, the admirals, and the marshals placed Radar down carefully.

That Radar got a hold of himself, breathing in then breathing out.

Sitting on the floor, facing them.

Shining budged his way to the front.

Between him and Radar, a little space.

Silence.

Tense silence.

---

A guard-driven carriage pulled a caged General Radar on Restaurant Row under the night, letting him smell all the dishes being prepared and cooked in those eateries. They made his mouth water but they never could lighten his face up from that perpetual pout.

It passed by a restaurant known as The Smoked Oat.

True to its name, it was smoky inside and there were oats on the food—well, oats were food. For a grill in an upper-class city, The Smoked Oat certainly did its best to stand out from the crowd of fancy—and, maybe presumptious—restaurants which were the usual fare of Canterlot inhabitants. Instead of lavish and expensive decorations and garnishes on the walls and ceilings, there were wooden tables and chairs and portraits of the staff; nothing more. The floor was wooden, too, and the brick walls wrapped up the diner's atmosphere.

The cooks were fast with their food, grilling and sometimes flipping their food high up in the air with their spatulas. It was a show where a small crowd gathered to watch them grill, taking in the quick sights, the sizzling sounds, and that aromatic whiff of grilled vegetables and—definitely—smoked oats.

At one table, over plates of almost burned oats and grilled cheese with glasses of water, a conversation was ongoing between three ponies.

"You heard the rumors circling around?" Twilight Velvet asked. "They say they found scuba-diving Crystals doing secret missions."

Night Light nodded, facing the other occupant at the table.

"That is surely a problem," Fancy Pants said before drinking some water. "I have not seen any of it on the news, however. Fairly recent?"

"It happened yesterday," Night Light replied.

"I apologize for not being ahead of our official news outlets," Fancy Pants said. "I desire to stand on pure facts before I get on with scubas and secrets." He cleared his throat. "What are the common details, though?"

"They're quite murky," Twilight Velvet answered. "What we know is that they're training for something big and unexpected. I don't know what that might be, but I'm not sure if they're going to ignore us. We're far away from the seas, but who knows? Maybe they'll get to the lakes and spy on us that way."

Fancy Pants looked bewildered. "Really?"

"They're always making new things to get an edge over us," Night Light said. "When we adopted Sunburst's artillery, they got some of it and made it their own. When we bundled grenades into one mega-grenade...thing, they got that idea and made their own mega-grenades. It's scary to think what they'll do when it's something original."

Fancy Pants nodded, levitated a fork, cut a slice of grilled cheese, scooped it up with his spoon, and ate it.

The two parents looked at each other.

"Have you reported it to any of the Princesses?" Fancy Pants asked. "I don't want to let them in on a false scent, but this has the ring of...genuineness to it."

He stood up.

"But, sir," Night Light spoke, pointing at the half-empty plate on the table, "you're not finished with your food!"

"That's alright," he said, smiling.

With that, Fancy Pants left The Smoked Oat and went out on the dark streets.

---

Fancy Pants passed by an hourglass-shaped house, glancing at the two busy mailponies at the mailbox.

Derpy and Special Delivery were talking as they closed it and took to flight, zipping past streetlights and carriages.

"Where are you going next?" Special Delivery asked.

"I'm going to the Everfree Forest!" was her cheerful answer.

"Again?! What did you say?! That place is...it's unnatural and—"

"But, I'm a mailpony and I deliver mail, so if I have mail for the Everfree Forest, then I must go there!"

"There's dangerous creatures out there! Evil monsters, cursed plants—aren't you afraid you might get hurt?"

"I've been a mailpony for years now," Derpy replied, "so, I know I can handle everything they will throw at me."

He scratched his head. "Come to think of it, who lives there? No normal pony would want to live there!"

"Which is why she's not a pony!"

He pulled his head back a little. "Oh? Then, who is she? Dragon?"

Derpy shook her head. "She's a magical zebra named Zecora! She's not a unicorn at all, but she can do spells!"

"OK. I trust that you can do it on your own, Derpy. If it's too hard for you, just try dropping the letter over her place...like, a mile over her place."

The two finally went out of Canterlot and they parted ways, waving at each other before disappearing from their sights.