The Moaning Top Incident

by Visiden Visidane

Sharpstone Fortress

Do not involve the Legion in your affairs. Every mayor and village constable knows this. The Legion's job is to deal with foreign invaders. If it's wolven, ursans, or ophidites showing up to raid your home, by all means, run to them for help. You won't find braver, stronger, and more dedicated ponies anywhere. But, if it's bandits, a local uprising, or a gang war, then you had better put the Grove Guard to good use, and hope that they're enough. If they're not, and you allow these things to overrun your the town, then you are in truly dire straits. You'll have no option but to beg a nearby fortress or garrison for help. Even if you don't, one of your citizens will. Even if they don't, it won't take long for the Legion to notice what's wrong, and send in somepony to investigate. Woe betide everypony involved when the Legion finds it necessary to interfere. You'll find how serious our Prince was when he said "don't involve me or the Legion in your day-to-day affairs, you won't like my solutions".

Pick any Legion, and you'll find a different brand of viciousness in dealing with criminals they normally shouldn't be dealing with. Here in the West, Legion weapons are sized for ursans. I once saw an earth pony legionnaire pin a bandit's hindquarters to a tree with a bolt. It took two earth ponies to pull the damn thing out to free the body, and the poor fool was indeed a body at that point. The one hit shattered his hips. Up north, they practice "forced glory" by sending groups of armed criminals into nearby wolven encampments. Down south, they'll force you at arrow-point to fetch some honey from a sunfly hive. That's essentially choosing between turning into an arrow pincushion or being roasted alive.

The Legion operates by its own rules, and simplicity, expediency, and straightforwardness are key virtues. Don't try to explain to a legionnaire the specifics of whatever local law you might have. You're going to taste the back of his hoof or the butt of a spear before you finish halfway. They're not interested in what you think banditry is punishable by. As far as they're concerned, if they had to interfere, then every criminal involved deserves execution.

If they find your situation particularly bad, such as when criminal elements actually overturn the local government and settle down, then you're going to have to deal with a Legion investigation. You'll have their inquisitors sticking their muzzles in every corner of your business. Then, when they're done, more executions will follow. The mayor usually loses their head, then the vice-mayor for failing to step up, then a good portion of the lower-ranking officials. The Legion will go as hard and as long as they have to. Afterwards, they'll oversee elections for new officials. There are reasons why the mayor has a high salary, this is one of them.

If there are collaborators within your settlement, then expect a vicious crackdown. The Legion will kill anypony that has had dealings with ophidite agents, and it's almost always ophidites. You've heard the story of Grapesong Village? That place the Legion supposedly burned down and killed every villager in because it had been infiltrated by so many spies that they couldn't be sure? That's a fabrication. Such a village never existed. But it's an enduring story because, once you've felt the weight of a Legion investigation, the story will feel quite plausible.

Climbing Vine, former mayor of the Five Groves, to the newly-elected mayor

---

In a normal situation, being the mayor of Moon Basin was an easy enough task. It was a small settlement, at the fringes the Great Delve's territory, nestled cozily at the foot of Mount Moaning Top. It was too small to present any sort of tempting prize to bands of bandits. It held too little strategic value to be endangered by ursan extermination campaigns, or ophidite agents. It was a sleepy little place, barely a footnote to Barrier Lands tax collectors and Legion recruiters alike. To lead its population involved nothing more than making sure everypony had paid their share, heading a few holidays like the end of the harvest, and maybe consulting with the constable over the local lads and their shenanigans.

Staring at a cadre of legionnaires was a bit out of the ordinary, though, so Fort Commander Forge Spark could understand why the light green stallion that stood in front of him was fidgety and sweaty. He had arrived inside the Mayor’s home with minimal fanfare; a couple of earth pony skirmishers, lightly armed and armored, of course, and his unicorn mage assistant, Hazy Sky. Even this small show of arms and armor was enough to make a small village nervous. Flanking the elder was the pegasus village constable, and some other village official, an earth pony who was probably the treasurer.

This would be the first time he was meeting Mayor Bitter Hops. The old stallion wore his years well for the most part. Muscles along his flanks and neck suggested that he remained active despite his position and age. His green and yellow mane and beard showed a little bit of white, while his hide wrinkled only a little bit around the eyes and lips. That was going to change quite soon. His hair was ragged from a lack of recent care, the bags under his eyes looked freshly acquired. Forge Spark knew a pony out of his depth on sight.

"Moon Basin Village salutes our noble protectors in the Legion," Bitter Hops said with a slight bow. "To what do we owe the honor of a personal visit from a Fortress Commander?"

A standard enough greeting. Every settlement Forge Spark has ever visited said something similar. They did not always mean it. "Be at ease, Bitter Hops," Forge Spark replied. "We're not here for trouble."

At the slight sigh of relief from the two flanking Bitter Hops, Forge Spark hardened his voice just a touch. "And we sincerely hope that it stays that way. You've undertaken a dangerous and difficult task by working with the Moonlight Rondo, especially with the limited local constabulary you have at your disposal."

A slight shift in the pegasus's eyes suggested a half-quashed impulse to bristle. An easy enough move to correct when the skirmishers had their gashing blades sheathed by their sides. Weapons made to wound ursans would make quick and savage work of ponies.

"We appreciate the concern Fort Commander Forge Spark," Bitter Hops said, “but we are confident in the Rondo behaving well."

"Perhaps," Forge Spark said. "Nevertheless, I am sending a unit of legionnaires here. Don't worry, they will not get in the way of your festival or interfere with your day-to-day affairs and law enforcement. They will simply make themselves available for sudden emergencies, and perform simple, Legion-related tasks.

Bitter Hops was prudent enough not to inquire what those tasks were nor object to the Legion's presence in general. "Of course, Fort Commander," he said. "But, surely, you could have informed us this with a simple messenger? This hardly seems like a grave enough matter to merit your personal visit."

Forge Spark allowed himself a small smile, which he quickly hid under his beard. "This is just a small stop," he replied. "How is my daughter, Bitter Hops? I trust she is well."

At this, Bitter Hops's eyes lit up. Even the others next to him seemed to lighten their moods. Forge Spark already felt better at this. It looked like all of them were in agreement that they had moved on to a much more pleasant subject.

"Cinder Spark is doing well, Fort Commander," Bitter Hops said. "She has been a blessing to our little village, especially now with so many ponies coming in temporarily."

"She has a healer's touch," Forge Spark said, his muzzle slightly rising. His voice lowered just a pitch. "I hope you are not overworking her, and that she is properly compensated."

Bitter Hops shook his head frantically. "Certainly not!" he said. "The village would never dream of abusing her kindness."

"Good." With that, Forge Spark looked to the door. "If you excuse me, I want to see her myself. Good day, Bitter Hops."

Outside the Mayor's home, Forge Spark looked to his escorts. "Wait by the village entrance," he said.

"Are you sure, Sir?" Legionnaire Rust Proof asked. He looked around and fidgeted with his gashing blade. "There are Rondo ponies around, and I don't trust them."

"The Rondo is going to declare war on the Legion by assaulting a fort commander, is it?" Forge Spark said with a chuckle. "Relax, legionnaire. I'll be fine. I don't need nor want an armed escort when talking to my daughter."

All three legionnaires saluted, then made their way to the entrance. Forge Spark turned around. He wasn't quite sure where Cinder Spark's house was, but it shouldn't be hard to spot in this small village.

That didn't turn out to be necessary. Forge Spark found himself already looking at Cinder standing before him. She looked at him worriedly, not quite meeting his gaze, her forelegs close together defensively. "Father..." she said softly.

"Cinder," Forge Spark replied. He closed the gap smiling, then extended a foreleg for a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. Cinder Spark was looking haggard. She was still the picture of her mother's beauty, with a presence like a warming flame. But there was a touch of fatigue and worry, like a few flickers in the blaze. The beginnings of dark circles were showing under her eyes. Nothing serious...yet.

Lips tight, Cinder took a step back, and moved her face slightly away. At this, Forge lost the smile, lowered his foreleg, then stepped back. The shift in him was instinctive, something he tried to stop. If she didn't want to see her father, then Fort Commander Forge Spark it was. He held it back for now, tried to keep some warmth in his tone despite the hurt.

"How have you been?" Forge asked. "Things are looking a bit hectic here, and you're looking rather tired."

"I'm fine, father," Cinder replied. She grasped her upper foreleg with the other. "I've endured worse in the Atheneum. I could have told you this with a letter."

"It's been a while since I last saw you," Forge said. "Surely, it would be fine for a father to see his daughter once in a while?"

"I'm sure there are many duties waiting for you in Sharpstone Fortress. Is that not the most important thing?"

Forge let out a sigh. "Very well," he said gruffly."Let us speak of duties. How did your first meeting with Legionnaire Coal Grey go?"

"It went well," Cinder said. She finally looked at Forge. "He's a good stallion, father, deserving of better than me."

Forge shook his head. "Nonsense," he said. "You are a good match." To hear her think of Coal as a good stallion was reassuring. It was a small compliment, but Forge was willing to take every small step forward. Perhaps it would take dozens of more marriage meetings, but he was willing to wait.

"Cinder!"

Forge looked up and to the distance. That worried cry came from a white pegasus mare winging towards them. He frowned briefly at the possible implications, but he held off his suspicions for now. A few seconds later, this young pegasus mare had landed between him and Cinder, chest puffed up, eyebrows furrowed, and wings raised. Her mane flowed down one side of her face in a pink cascade, disheveled in some places, suggesting either hard exertion or revelry, The smell of wine confirmed it.

"Is there something you need, citizen?" Forge asked.

"I need you to get out of this village," the pegasus snarled. She stepped aside and looked to Cinder. "We both do, can't you tell?"

"Cloud Breeze, stop!" Cinder said. She stepped to the pegasus's side and tugged at her foreleg, but Cloud Breeze refused to budge.

"You're being very rude," Forge Spark said. His voice was low and challenging as a warning. "I'm just speaking to my daughter. You should not be so provocative."

"I'm not afraid of you, Legion pig," Cloud Breeze spat.

"I admire your bravado," Forge Spark replied. "Even if it did come in a bottle."

Cloud Breeze's shoulders shifted. Forge recognized the dip that would shift into a wide right hook. He considered his options. He could just shove this drunk, and she would fall over. He could stop that blow, telekinetically dislocate the offending foreleg from its shoulder socket, break her snout, and remove some of her teeth. He could let her hit him, then have his escorts clap her in irons. The swing finally came, but Cinder grabbed the foreleg with her telekinesis.

"Let go, Cinder!" Cloud Breeze growled.

"Father, please," Cinder pleaded. She looked at him, her eyes liquid while she strained to hold Cloud Breeze back.

Forge Spark sighed, then turned around. "I will leave, then. Take care of yourself, Cinder."

Once his daughter had dragged away her friend, and she was out of sight, Forge was all too eager to leave this village. At the horizon, the towers of Sharpstone Fortress awaited his return. Cinder was right, he did have duties to take care of.

---

The great stone walls of Sharpstone Fortress loomed tall and proud, watching over Equestria from the northwest, glowering over the ursans from across the border while they slavered, fought each other for succession, and plotted their next extermination campaign.

Fortifications were rare in the West, and where they did exist, they were massive. When faced with foes that could rip apart a house with ease, one had to take extreme measures. The Legion preferred to be mobile when dealing with the ursans, using speed and persistence to harass extermination campaigns as they oozed from Ursinium like a leisurely avalanche. Only when the ursan horde bogged down with infighting, lack of supplies, and other problems did the Legion deal out a finishing attack.

It was that last part where a fortress came in. Indeed, there were many small, easily abandoned outposts farther west of Sharpstone that did the bulk of the work in dealing with an extermination campaign. The main attack, however, would come from here with its multiple flights of lancers, and its spell arrays.

Forge Spark stared at the fortifications from his office window. As Fort Commander, his office was at the highest room in the tallest building central to Sharpstone. From here, he had a good vantage point to observe any part of the fortress. It also served as a constant reminder of how serious his position was, and how grave his responsibilities were.

Responsibilities...what a heavy term. He fought long and hard to make it to this position, to take on these responsibilities. Now, they were weighing down him, and seemingly keeping him bound to one position. He looked back to his desk, where official reports had been taken to account, and neatly stacked. Next to them was a small portrait of his wife, Stream Lily, holding their foal, Cinder Spark: the two most important mares in his life. How fitting.

'I don't know what to do, Lily...' Forge thought, as if the words in his mind could be carried away to the blessed realm where Equestria's dead went. He was going to lose his daughter. He had been trying to reconcile himself with that for a while now, ever since she left for Moon Basin. That was hard enough. Now, he might be losing her to the Moonlight Rondo, a cult of drunks, addicts, deviants, and layabouts. His thoughts went to that pegasus who interrupted them.

Were they—? Forge hated the thought of it. He remembered the first mare Cinder was with. What was her name again? Golden Sand? "Roommates," she said. The rumors were abound in the Atheneum, by the time he found out. Eventually, they reached Sharpstone. For all their stoicism and discipline, there were enough gossips in the Legion, especially if it was the Fort Commander's daughter. That was when Forge Spark became acquainted with every term used for mares attracted to mares: clam-masher, mirror-rubber, filly-fooler, lick-minge, though the last one was just from that one legionnaire from Glacier Fall.

Even so, Forge still held out some hope. If his time in the Legion had taught him anything, it was that one's will always trumped feelings. If one's sense of duty could overcome the fear of pain and death, it could surely overcome incompatible feelings. Cinder was no legionnaire. She didn't have the temperament for it, but Forge believed that the inner strength that the Legion espoused could manifest in other ways, even for civilians.

This...condition can be overcome. Forge remembered a battle with ophidites in his youth. A cobrahn had struck him with a spell; a rudimentary phantasm that turned the world into a hazy mire of shadows. He was surrounded by fighting ponies and ophidites, and he wanted to jump back into the fray. He hesitated when he noticed that the positions of his comrades and foes appeared to have reversed, a fact confirmed when a "legionnaire" tried to stab him. He regained his bearings, and even though the spell continued to trick his senses, he knew what to do. His perception had been altered, but the ophidites were still ophidites, and the ponies were still ponies.

Cinder's situation was similar. Her perceptions were altered, perhaps not by something sinister like ophidite magic, but altered nonetheless. Yet, mares were still mares, and stallions were still stallions. He arranged her marriage with Skirmisher Captain Coal Grey in hopes that she would soldier on, and start a traditional Equestrian family. Her continued stay in Moon Basin and the involvement of the Moonlight Rondo, in particular that pegasus mare, dimmed that hope.

Forge Spark sat back down in his desk, and opened one of its drawers. Inside was a translation of notes from a coatl named Hensath, which he leafed through. The Southern Legion acquired and translated it during a raid, and Forge requested a copy when he learned of the contents from a friend.

Hensath had compiled these notes after purchasing a pair of stallions from a slave dealer for studding. She discovered that both stallions found it difficult to perform their assigned tasks, and discovered why when she observed them later in the night. Fasamyssen sold me queer stallions! she helpfully wrote down. Her outrage later turned into curiosity, and she purchased more such ponies in order to perform some tests.

The rest of the notes described Hensath's tests in her attempts to "cure" these ponies: various surgeries, powerful enchantments, torture, venoms, drugs...none proved to her satisfaction. Ultimately, the notes ended with little useful results, unless one wanted broken down ponies.

I will need more subjects. Perhaps, we can breed this trait out if we can identify it at the root. Honestly, the ponies of Equestria should just submit. We are clearly more concerned with improving their race than they are.

Forge Spark set the notes down. Even the most ruthless, unbound methods resulted in nothing. What hope did his meager efforts have?

He eyed the reports involving Moon Basin. Now, here was when the personal and the official mixed in ways he didn’t want to.

The Moonlight Rondo had been doing more than just influencing his wayward daughter. Too many outraged demands had come to the Legion’s doorstep. Too many incidents and too many embarrassments. The Western Legion Commander had finally decided to put an end to it. It was inevitable after the destruction of the Blackmoon Blades. Equestria had no more patience for the cults of Luna.

At least, that was the official cause. The Prince’s return from his visit to the Heartland and his soured look at Princess Luna certainly had something to do with it. Forge Spark still remembered the eager gleam in Legion Commander Sky Arc’s eyes when she passed this directive to him.

The Western Legion had set its eyes on the festival of Mount Moaning Top even before reports of ophidite involvement even reached Sharpstone. It was an opportunity not to be missed. The Rondo has taken to spreading itself out in the past decade or so, travelling in small groups and hosting impromptu parties to stay out of scrutiny. For this festival, nearly all members will converge on the mountain where their cult was born. The Legion intended to make it the mountain where their cult was destroyed as well.

The reports on ophidite involvement proved a blessing in two ways. It gave the Legion more of an excuse to move in as it was now no longer a domestic issue. It sat in with Barrier Lands public as well. For all their degeneracy, the Rondo’s parties still had admirers. Arrests were expected, but a slaughter might anger too many. Unless, it turned out that the Rondo collaborated with the enemy. The other reason was that it allowed Forge Spark to send in a group of legionnaires ahead. He picked Coal Grey specifically, and after the engagement, in hopes that he could assign his daughter a protector without making it official. It was his hope that Coal Grey would lead her to safety before any fighting broke out. He did not want her to witness the operation in full swing.

Forge Spark’s thoughts briefly turned towards that angry pegasus mare again. She would be a problem. She might even force Cinder to stay in the festival until the attack. She was a hothead though, easily provoked and with a massive chip on her shoulder about the Legion. Chill Gaze’s selection was no accident either. If she tried that stunt from earlier, the other legionnaires might hesitate, but Chill Gaze would take care of the problem. And once the signal was given, the main force under Forge Spark’s command could move in and finish things.

Forge Spark looked out the window again. A sound enough plan with a few unknowns. The best he could compromise between being a father and fort commander. It should be enough. It had to be.

Comments

[Beware The Carpenter]

There's more than just 'duty' in the name of having kids.

I think it's fairly safe to say that settling down in a stable relationship is better for an individual in the long term than the tempoary thrill of drugs and promiscuity offered by the Moonlight Rondo.