The Legion of Bronze

by Sixes_And_Sevens

Enemy Territory

The Hippodrome was a massive, brightly-colored structure, its base elliptical and its colossal sides formed from graceful arches of cloud in all colors of the rainbow. Quite natural, really, given that liquid rainbow was used to dye the building. All told, it looked like a massive, gaudily tye-dyed, jaw-dropping round of swiss cheese, dwarfing the market stalls and small shops that surrounded it. From this vantage, one could see all the way to the Palazzo di Skyzanti, five miles away to the north, and the Hoofia Sofia, four miles to the west.

Ditzy was honestly rather impressed. “Wow. You never see anything like that in the history books.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo agreed. She tried to keep her tone blase, but the gleam in her eyes belied her bored expression. “A lot of old buildings used to be really colorful, but the rainbows eventually faded away, and nopony replaced them. Now they’re just boring and white.”

“I wish that they’d stayed like this,” Ditzy said dreamily, running a hoof over a section of violet cloud. “So pretty…”

“...Yeah,” Scootaloo agreed after a long moment. “Yeah. I wish it could’ve stayed.” She stared silently at the brightly colored cloud for another moment before snapping back to her senses. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

She trotted toward the main entrance, Ditzy hot on her hooves. “So, um, I notice that a lot of ponies are wearing red and white?”

It was true. Several mares and stallions wore togas and tunics in either white or red, and some had even gone so far as to dye their manes or coats. Here and there, ponies stumbled under the weight of enormous headdresses in one of the colors. Occasionally, one or two pegasi wore blue or green, but by and large the costumes were white or red.

“Yeah. The reds and the whites were the major sports teams of… well, this time. Chariot racers, y’know. The blues and the greens were also teams, but they were way less popular.”

Nearby, a pony wearing red bumped into another pony wearing white. The white supporter’s head whipped around, her expression full of fury. “Watch where you’re going,” she snarled.

“Watch where you’re standing!” the red teamster shot back.

There was a beat, and then they were at each other’s throats. Other reds and whites gathered around to cheer on their fellows. Ditzy winced at the violence. “Maybe we’d better head inside.”

“Yeah, we’d better grab our seats,” Scootaloo nodded. “Preferably in, I dunno, the yellow section?”

“As far from these guys as we can get,” Ditzy agreed fervently, turning to trot through one of the arches. As the duo walked into the main arena, they passed a golden statue of five ponies. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about it; the Hippodrome had several statues, taken from conquests and raids across the continent. This was one of the more famous of them. There was just one issue with it. There were only meant to be four statues.

Golden eyes in a golden head tracked the two mares as they made their way into the stadium.

---

Night had well and truly fallen in Ponyville as Applejack galloped down the main drag, leaving Rumble stumbling over the dirt ruts she left in her wake. On the horizon, shining in the last rays of sun and first hint of moonglow, the massive castle of Twilight Sparkle.

“Why are we going to see Twilight, exactly?” Rumble asked.

“Ah figger Dash went off ta sulk on a cloud somewhere. Ah gotta talk some sense into her somehow, an’ Ah can’t do that from down here.”

“Why does it have to be you specifically?”

“‘Cause Ah’m her—” she stumbled over first her words and then her hooves. “Ugh. Friend. Ah’m her friend.”

“You do realize that I, much like the rest of Ponyville, am fully aware that you two are dating.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “She made me Pinkie Promise not ta tell nopony ‘til she’s ready.”

Rumble snorted, helping the mare to her hooves. “Must be annoying for you. Why do you put up with it?”

Applejack hesitated. What, after all, could she say? How could she honestly express the way Dash made her feel? It was like how she had always supposed flying must be like; freeing, boundless, infinite, and yet so terrifyingly fragile and delicate. It felt natural to love Dash, as natural as it did for her to buck trees, easy as apple pie. But if she deviated from the course that her emotions set, if she tried to change too much… well. That wasn't a crash she was sure that everypony could walk away from.

It wasn’t love, not entirely. Not in the storybook sense, where the heroes kiss and live happily, vapidly ever after in some sort of abstract emotion based on… what? Mutual attraction? Why in Sam Hill did Sleeping Beauty marry the guy who thought that kissing dead mares was an acceptable pastime? Her and Dash, they weren’t like that. She didn’t know what they were. They never spoke about it. Sometimes, it made her feel a little uncomfortable inside, like she had eaten something that didn’t agree with her. Like a pear. Well, maybe not quite as bad as that soft, pathetic mockery of an apple, but still pretty bad.

Where had she been going with this? Oh, right. She bit her lower lip. “Tell you th’ truth, sugarcube, Ah dunno,” she admitted. “Sometimes, when y’all are in love, ya gotta do stuff you wouldn’t usually do. Gotta compromise, git out of yer comfort zone.”

“Hm,” said Rumble, dubious.

Applejack raised a brow. “Alright, between us, who’s been in a relationship fer longer? Or at all?”

“Fair point,” Rumble conceded, fluffing out his feathers against the cold night air. “So, what, are you going to get Twilight to give you wings?”

“Nah, Ah’m gonna borrow that hot-air balloon she keeps. Ain’t like she ever uses it.”

“Why does she have a hot-air balloon?”

“Present from Celestia?”

“Huh.” Rumble stared at the towering structure of the local princess’s castle. “Seems pretty well-lit for this time of the evening. Think she’s got guests?”

Applejack rubbed her chin with a hoof, frowning thoughtfully. “Could be…” she muttered. “But wouldn’t she have told me about it?”

Rumble shrugged. “We may as well see.” He trotted forward, but froze when a loud crash echoed through the air.

Both ponies stood in silence as the street began to light up, citizens roused from their slumber flicking on lights and holding up lamps. “How much do you want to bet that that’s somehow related to Scootaloo?” Rumble said.

Applejack snorted as she took off at a gallop. “Ah don’t take bets there ain’t no chance o’ winnin’,” she said shortly.

---

The Doctor slammed his hooves against the fridge door for the fortieth time. Growling in irritation, he backed away from the vault-like door. “You know, I’m not sure what laws govern psychic projections of future regenerations, but I’m quite sure that this breaks them!” he called. He was reasonably sure that even if the Watcher could still hear him, it probably wasn’t listening.

“Hmph.” The Doctor trotted away from the door. Well, he certainly wouldn’t starve, he reflected, staring down the rows and rows of shelves. Unfortunately, he’d probably die of exposure before that became too much of an issue. “What a way to go,” he muttered. “Refrigerated to death in my own TARDIS, I’ve never heard of such nonsense.”

He wondered, vaguely, what had brought on the presence of the formless figure. Briefly, he thought back to his short adventure trying to get back to his home universe not long after crashing in his wife’s garden. For a time, he’d actually become the Watcher. Were the two events connected? It seemed unlikely. But then, so was being attacked by a phantom future.

More likely, the poor fellow had gotten tired of waiting his turn. After all, he had managed to cheat death rather more than his fair share over the years. That whole ‘regenerating into the same body’ trick he’d pulled on the stolen Earth must have been particularly galling.

Still, that was no excuse for assassination. Well, what was one more go at cheating death, after all? There was another way out somewhere in here, wasn’t there? He vaguely recalled… not another door… a dumbwaiter! There was a whole bank of them on the far wall, or there had been. That had been more than a few regenerations ago, back when he was as like to wear vegetables as eat them. The installation had been a tad complex, but worth it, given how many of his companions often refused to leave their rooms, preferring to sulk. Adric had been particularly notorious in that regard, he reflected as he started trotting through the shelves full of stasis-preserved food.

He passed by an entire wall of marshmallows, bordered on one side by cocoa powder and on another side by chocolate bars and graham crackers. In the darkness, the white of the marshmallows looked luminous under the faint blue glow of the stasis lights.

A few moments after the Time Lord trotted by, the white glow formed into a vaguely equine form. The Watcher stepped out of the shelf and gazed at the Doctor’s retreating tail. Though it lacked a face completely, the suggestion of a wicked grin crossed where its mouth ought to have been. On silent hooves, it cantered after the Doctor.

---

The hippodrome was packed tight with warm bodies, squished into seats made of colorful cloud. Ditzy and Scootaloo managed to find a pair of empty seats slightly nearer the arena than most in a balcony overlooking the track. “So, what do you think they’re showing before the fruit-smashing guy?” Ditzy whispered, a note of excitement in her voice.

“Dunno,” Scootaloo muttered back, gazing at the track. “They’ve got the chariots out, though.”

Indeed, several small wheeled carts had been placed on the track, each one just about large enough to hold two ponies if they were willing to be intimate. And yet as they watched, several pegasi from each of the four color groups trotted onto the pitch. Their faces were brightly painted, no two quite the same. The whites were almost identical with their almost completely solid-color faces. The only splash of non-white was a small black tear on the cheek. Their outfits were silvery, with large pompoms. They walked sedately, almost sorrowfully, onto the pitch.

The reds, in sharp contrast, flooded on in a mad rush, practically leaping over one another to reach the chariots. Large red noses and thick red lips adorned their faces. They had the occasional splash of orange or violet as well, be it as painted freckles or as rings around the eyes. They wore clashing outfits and oversized horseshoes that seemed to bounce off the ground.

The blues and the greens wore their colors as well, but had much less of a unified theme. The blues seemed to be more akin to the whites, and the greens closer to the reds, but they were as shadows. Small wonder that they weren’t as celebrated as their peppermint-colored cohorts. Still, they waved to the crowds, silent and ready to go on.

The crowd positively roared, making the cloud reverberate and rumble beneath them. The reds made a big show of pratfalling and rolling around, which only made the red supporters cheer harder. The greens attempted to do the same, all but flinging themselves to the ground, but it was obviously second-best.

Scootaloo tugged on Ditzy’s wing and pointed up towards the balcony that was situated in the center of the northern wall of the hippodrome. A figure stood upon it, overlooking the entire stadium. A blue mane whipped in the wind, contrasting against a pink coat. With a single hoofstrike, the cloud growled with thunder, silencing the crowd. “Salve Skyzantium!” she bellowed, her high, clear voice echoing through the stands.

Ditzy blinked as the crowd broke into cheers once more. That mare. She looked and sounded oddly familiar. “Who’s that?” she hissed to Scootaloo.

“That’s just the quaestor. She runs the games. Kind of a big deal, but not, like, senator-level or anything,” the young mare muttered.

“Oh.” Ditzy studied the mare for a long moment. “She looks kinda like that one old Wonderbolt, doesn’t she? Firefly?”

“I guess. Only so many different coat and mane combination, though. Probably it’s just a coincidence.”

Meanwhile, the announcer had resumed speaking. “The first event of the day is to be the curriculum res inepta! Participants, to your chariots!”

Two members of each team trotted toward the chariots and hooked one another in at the front of the vehicle. That left, at Ditzy’s count, ten members of each team. “Are they the pit crew?” she whispered.

Scootaloo shook her head. “Nah. You didn’t learn this in school? The Roanans originally called this a ‘circus,’ which is where we get the word—”

“Circus?” Ditzy guessed drily.

“Yeah. See that clown makeup?”

“...Yeah?”

“That’s not the only circus tradition we got. Look.”

The reds were all fighting to squish into their chariot, a mass of squabbling bodies and wiggling flanks. Several found themselves chucked out on their tails, only to rejoin the fray. The greens, having perhaps learned their lesson earlier, simply squeezed in one by one. The whites were climbing on top of one another, forming, to Ditzy’s amazement, an acrobatic equine pile, almost like a diamond. One pegasus sat at the bottom, supporting two pegasi above her. They supported three, then two, then one, with the last one perched at the very top.

The blues had attempted something similar, except they just had a massive pony tower. It was tall, but Ditzy very much doubted its stability. Apparently, nopony else shared her concerns. Either that, or they simply didn’t care. The general raised her wings, and the audience fell silent. Then, with a beat that echoes through the stadium once again, she dropped her wings to her sides.

A wild whoop went up from the audience as the four chariots thundered down the track. Eight pegasi ran flat out, their wings beating back the air to propel them forwards, not unlike the way in which Scootaloo propelled herself on the scooter. The blue team wobbled and swayed as their chariot blazed down the track, but they didn’t fall. In contrast, the white teamsters seemed to lean into every turn, always remaining perfectly perpendicular to the track. The red team was still tightly compressed into their chariot, howling and cheering. Some of them were stuck in there upside-down, and their legs were kicking frantically. And the green team… was in the lead, actually.

Wheels rumbled and rattled erratically over the cloud course, bumping and jostling one another, knocking the other chariots subtly off-course. And then, much to Ditzy’s shock, one of the blue riders pulled out a large comedy hammer and slammed it against the red chariot, sending it skidding wildly. The grey mare gasped, her wings snapping out, but Scootaloo had already grabbed her tail. “It’s alright, it’s all part of the race,” she said. “Look.”

Already the reds had recovered. One flailing leg had kicked over a lever, and the wheels suddenly shot out to either side, the axles extending three meters to either side, smashing into the side of the blue chariot. As Ditzy had half-known it would, the tower of pegasi teetered and tottered, and then collapsed in a pile of feathers and flapping bodies bouncing off the cloud.

“It’s like one of Button’s games,” Scootaloo observed. “Adventure Plumber Brothers and Friends Drive in Impossible Locations on Magic Karts. Guess those guys got blue-shelled.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ditzy said.

Above the two mares, a violet stallion stared down at them with golden eyes.

---

Silver Pallas paused in her work. After the briefest of moments, she carefully set the lump of cloud with which she was working into a hollow in the wall. A spark lit up her face for a moment, but she did not flinch. She blinked slowly, lizard-like, and her eyes were silver. “Bring the time-travelers here, but do not harm them unduly,” she commanded. “If they resist, render them unconscious, but do not damage them permanently. I would speak to them.”

She blinked again, just as laconically. “No, don’t take them. They will come to you.”

One more blink, faster this time, and her eyes were once again acid-green. She snorted and shook her head to clear it. She selected another lump of carefully-crafted cloud to fit into the wall, but fumbled it at the last moment. Silver cursed quietly as the sculpted cloud deformed, releasing its stored lightning into the floor. The cloud around her grew just that much darker. The pegasus mare gazed, furious, at the deformed device. Then the rage drained away slowly, and she picked up the cloud. One way or another, she would get out of this. One way or another, she would return to her research.

---

The Castle of Friendship was in an uproar. Ponies filed out of their homes to watch the fireworks. “Scuse me! Pardon me!” Applejack shouted as she barged through the crowd. “Chairpony of Harmony comin’ through!”

Rumble had simply taken to the air, flapping ahead for all he was worth. The lights from the castle grew brighter and more frequent, hues of violet and orange and pink shining and refracting through the walls like some kind of weaponized Aurora Borealis. It was almost hypnotic the way the colors danced. He snapped awake just in time to dive out of the way of a straying burst. He quickly zipped down until he was just skimming over the heads of the ponies below.

Applejack growled. “Outta th’ way!” she shouted. Rumble was halfway to the castle, and she was scarcely closer than when she’d started running. She huffed and glanced around. The streets were packed full of clamoring ponies on the verge of panic. A stampede. She breathed in and let it out slowly. She could handle this. She planted her hooves, tossed her head back, and howled “HOOOOO-EE!”

Silence fell. Hundreds of eyes fell upon the apple farmer. She met the combined gaze. “Now Ah’ve got yer attention. Ah dunno what’s goin’ on up at th’ castle yet, but Ah don’t reckon gawpin’ at it all night’ll do us any good. So. Ah’m goin’ up there ta help. Either come on with me, or go th’ heck back ta bed!”

There was a moment of hostile silence. Applejack continued to stare at them all. One by one, ponies slunk back to their homes. Doors shut, lamps flickered out, and the street cleared. A few ponies remained outside, though. Applejack glowered at them all. “Ah thought Ah tol’ y’all ta git,” she said.

A silver-grey mare stepped forwards, adjusting her glasses. “Actually, you told us either to go back to bed or come with you. We want to help.”

Applejack raised a brow. Was this really the same Silver Spoon who’d helped send Apple Bloom home in tears time and again? Was that still really Diamond Tiara next to her, staring anywhere but up? She glanced at the rest of the crowd. Lyra shuffled her hooves next to a stalwart Bon Bon. Cheerilee, still wearing a nightcap, stood next to her sister, Berry Punch, and her niece, Ruby Pinch. Romana stood just behind them, her sonic screwdriver tucked behind her ear. Bulk Biceps pumped a hoof. “YEAH!” he agreed.

The farmer pursed her lips and glanced back at the castle. Rumble was nearly there, now. “Alright, fine. Just hurry up!” she said, galloping onwards. The sound of hooves behind her started up a startled moment later. Her ears flattened against her head. They weren’t the first ponies she’d choose in these circumstances, but they’d just have to tag along for now. And she’d just have to hope she wasn’t leading them to their doom.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

Every time I see the Hoofia Sofia mentioned, I imagine a blue-coated historian stallion going "Good. Dome." Overly Sarcastic Productions is a delight.

He passed by an entire wall of marshmallows, bordered on one side by cocoa powder and on another side by chocolate bars and graham crackers.

Pinkie approves of this organizational schema.

They're mimes and clowns. Why are they mimes and clowns? I am not okay with this.

“Oh! Right. That… thing happened…” Ditzy trailed off.

Curious. What change rippled out to stop Scootaloo from launching herself into Rainbow Dash's childhood front lawn? Mind you, this appears to be a timeline where Dash's mother is Firefly rather than Windy Whistles, so there's clearly more than just that afoot.

Ohhhh. This isn't the Hippodrome, it's the Cirrus Maximus.

One way or another, she would get out of this. One way or another, she would return to her research.

Very interesting. This isn't just amoral science for amoral science's sake.

I do like Applejack's title. She's a Chairpony of Harmony because she's one of the ponies with a chair.

Everything's coming to a boil. Looking forward to more.

[Sixes_And_Sevens]

10081294

Mind you, this appears to be a timeline where Dash's mother is Firefly rather than Windy Whistles, so there's clearly more than just that afoot.

Unfortunately, it just means that I've uploaded the wrong version of the chapter. That's what I get for writing this story before Parental Glideance aired. Fixed now, thanks for pointing it out.

I like OSP, too, especially their review of Lovecraft.

Ohhhh. This isn't the Hippodrome, it's the Cirrus Maximus.

Ba-dum-tsss