Light at the End of the Journey

by Darth Plague

Dawn of a New Day

A meek yawn escaped her lips as she painfully stifled the urge to go back to sleep, rending her blanket away from her body with a forceful pull of her hooves, despite protest from within. As a reflex to this defiance, she stretched her body as much as she could to try and rid herself of the sleep that still enveloped her. Much to her chagrin, however, the manoeuvre provided no respite from her current disposition, rendering her immobile in her bed for the perceivable future.

Coffee. Her mind called out feebly.

She needed coffee.

With this revelation came the thought that she might have woken up a little earlier than she usually did—the alarm clock beside her bed standing mute and still, its hands aligned to 6:55, confirming to her that she was right—and that her maid would arrive soon with the much-needed morning elixir. With nothing else to do but wait until then, her eyes wandered away from the door and towards the window beside her, its thick windowpanes acting like a transparent barrier that allowed vision between two worlds but no contact.

The realm outside was a domain of the cold and dreary: the snowstorm that had been ravaging Feslott for the past week had turned into a harrowing blizzard that threatened to wipe her home from existence, the silhouette of the crescent sun beyond the horizon unable to penetrate the snow cover of the mountains that dotted her town. Yet her gaze, in a fashion typical of her heritage, went instead towards the deer working still in the early feeble dawn light to earn their pay while keeping the Lehtisaari monolith chugging away despite the bleak midwinter snow raining down on their backs.

As the door to her own room opened with a knock, Helmi Lehtisaari, the heir to a long prestigious line of businessdeers and now leading industrialists of newborn conglomerates, turned her view inwards. The toils of the inspirational and diligent deer forgotten in a moment, a privileged fatigue laden with cold apathy came back. Yet the smell of the hot coffee that her maid-cum-friend Valla brought filled her snout, its radiating warmth but a minute source among many others that led to the comfortable temperature in her room: crackling sounds emanating from the fireplace, that was flanked by a big ornate mantelpiece adorning the center of her room, bestowed divine heat and light in a stark contrast to the devilish blizzard outside, her room containing many dime-a-dozen fur pieces from the various animals her family and she herself had hunted in the wilderness outside (her very own blanket being made of fur itself as was custom of the Olenians living so far north) that provided further extra insulation.

"Good morning, Helmi. I hope you had a pleasant night sleep. I have brought you your morning coffee," Valla drawled in a soothing south Equestrian accent, placing the cup at the stool of the window. Hailing from Appleloosa, the climate of this town was vastly different from the one she came from. But, having lost her mother when she was young, she was adopted by the Lehtisaari family; seldom growing homesick and never talking about home.

Well... almost never, Helmi thought with a quaint lethargic smile, her mind in a daydream of thoughts recounting the cozy stories she would hear from Valla about her home in the deserts of Equestria. Comforting her during the bone-chill nights when her shivering body refused to fall asleep.

As she brought the coffee mug to her snout and felt the warm brew travel down her gullet, it had the opposite reaction than what she desired. Making her even more relaxed, she settled back into her bed rest with a content sigh, her eyes turning glassy and opaque; and her thoughts meandered sluggishly to her atypical plans for that day.

Maybe I don't have to do this. I can just live like this, a corporate exile as my assistants take over my role in the company. I can just sit here...sipping my coffee in the face of this unending winter, she murmured in a form of ironic lucidity, as if this was the best idea she had thought of since winter began this cycle.

Just then, a loud crash followed by a blast of frigid air struck the dreamy deer, snapping her out of her stupor. Looking up with a start, she saw Valla peaking her head out of the window. A thick white foam came out of her muzzle as the earth pony let out a breath in the snowy air, the two worlds now merged at the threshold. The twee sunlight glimmering from the mountains casted the usually dull brown pony in an almost golden glow of her earth pony heritage like the snow caps in the distance.

"Sorry about the noise. Window was frozen shut by the snow but fortunately I managed to pry it open. I know you hate the morning chill but humour me this once since I wanted to immerse myself today in the invigorating wind," she asked with an almost petulant grin, her mane swishing behind her in a beautiful flurry.

But rather than making Helmi into a typical chattering mess, for once, the frigid gale brought back her stoic demeanour as she made up her mind and promptly drank the rest of her coffee in big deep gulps; the burn providing her with a renewed energy this time as her eyes once again rested upon her long-time companion. The pony, in response, smiled warmly in the freezing wind bellowing from over yonder.

"I am relieving you of duty Valla," came the matter-of-fact response from the businessdeer.

---

The raging blizzard that had ravaged Feslott during the break of dawn had—come evening—died down, leaving a quiet town with a pile of snow festooned upon its land. Despite the silence, however, it would have been amiss to state that the mental constitution and financial situation of most town-folk allowed them to take leave from work during such a harrowing climate. Even now, in the waning sunlight of the winter evening, many deer could be seen returning home from the work, uninhibited by the battering that their town had received from nature that day.

While their own natural coats provided plenty of insulation, quite a few still adorned fur coats and jackets that they were able to purchase from their meagre earnings, quietly making their way to their hearths in the different corners of their city like mindless drones; quite a handful detaching themselves from their senses, lest the cold that they journeyed through made them stop dead in their tracks.

Many more tired to distract themselves with idle talk, either by themselves or with colleagues that lived in the same direction. Some talked about the abuse they received from their bosses while trying to plead for the most minute of amenities: a short rest break, a garment for the poorer ones to at least cover their bodies from the blizzard, or even a day-off. Others talked about the mundanity of it all: the same routine day-in and day-out that they were forced to undertake to provide for them or their families. A select few had a quaint smile on their muzzles as they talked about the praise they received or the bonuses they got that they.

As per usual, the topic of buying a car eventually came up on the muzzle of many, even if they knew how the conversation would usually end up: that purchasing one would require throwing months of precious pay down the drain. The town of Feslott was a haven for the rich away from the prying eyes of the government and acted almost semi-autonomously through a combination of bribery and politicking, a sort of kingdom within a kingdom. Cars were a luxury not provided to most, the roads of the town like a barren stretch of land that sat unused by most.

Not to mention that the climate of Feslott lent itself to terrible winters, of which this was one of the worst in years. Driving through the region would have been a fool’s errand. And so, the deer fell once more into their routine, blending into the dark and industrial grey of the snowy city like blots of ink on an artist’s painting. Unnamed and unassuming dots that constituted a morbid yet necessary strata of society under the industrial behemoth of the city.

Policedeer, like eternal wardens, stood stationed at strategic locations that covered the entire city, watching the roving bands of pedestrians with a narrowed gaze for intrusions, sometimes checking the identity papers of those that passed by them; carrying these papers a mandatory duty that even the rich could not escape from. Changeling infiltration had become a problem in Olenia for years; numerous investigations deemed Feslott a primary entry point. Both the local government and the industrialists reinforced the local police garrison to protect their city/assets, which allowed them to become adept at their jobs.

For all intents and purposes, the day felt like any other when the sky suddenly blazed an orange glow from towards the east, contrasting the setting sun. Many watched with stunned looks and enlarged eyes towards the glow, growing concerned of another changeling attack, while nearby policedeer shouted queries into their radio about the situation and what their orders were.

Towards the eastern sector of the city, Väinö Laine drew a hoof towards his face to wipe down the sweat that was gathering on his face, the police tape nearly slipping from his hoofs due to the aforementioned accumulated liquid. Still, he forged on to cordon the area off from the growing crowd of deer near the fire that seemed to be enchanted like insects looking upon a light, quite reasonably still, given the current weather. Their fur, which had puffed up from the cold, were now matted down by the radiant heavenly heat. The ground had become an icy puddle as the bonfire on the road melted the snow around the area, causing some to nearly slip.

After he managed to cordon the area and quell the nearby audience with a harsh shout, Väinö tried to call for backup through his radio, his hoofs slipping many times in the process due to them being wet but also due to them shaking a lot. While he had become a natural at quelling most forms of public disorder, or even Changelings for that matter, the scene in front of him was honestly not one he had witnessed in his many years of service for a quiet town with not a lot of automobiles.

From what he could make out, two vehicles in question were what constituted the accident in front of him. A 4-seater of an expensive variety looked to be conjoined at a central nexus, its front end smashed to smithereens, with a large cargo truck that most likely had whatever it was carrying burnt to a crisp, if not outright smashed out by the impact. A huge fire from Tartarus itself seemed to envelop both vehicles, disallowing anyone to come any closer than they could.

As he waited for backup to arrive, Väinö tried to keep the nearby crowd back; not that it was necessary given the fire. He had already spotted the charred remains of a body and tried not to think about it as he did his job. Fortunately, the crowd seemed to be lessening as most turned to leave, either due to indifference, the fire or the smell of death that had started to permeate the air.

While swatting away another batch of adventurous deer, he noticed something out of the corner of his eyes. On the ground, near to the burning car, lay an opaque white object that contrasted with the grey asphalt and translucent ice. Snow still fell from above, mixing with the lingering ash in the air from the burning vehicles, but none of it could prevent the object with its angular edges from sticking out.

Väinö carefully picked it up, making sure to stay out of harm's way, and swatted away any ice or snow that had settled on it while making sure it was undamaged in the process. As soon as he did so, he immediately recognized it as an identity card that most higher class deer carried; their soft power clearly manifesting in this simple difference: whereas most deer had to carry a small identity booklet with them for their daily use, the rich were content with just a simple card with their name and basic details on it. Just to remind the others who stood in front of them.

Turning it over, Väinö drew a small yet sharp breath when he glanced the name written on top. As an everyday policedeer in Feslott, it was an unwritten rule among their corps to know the names and positions of most high-class deer in the city. To not come forth as insulting or ignorant of the status of their 'shareholders'. And this one, Väinö thought as he gazed it over again, was definitely a major shareholder.

He knew that if what this implied was true, it would truly shake up the power dynamics of the city in a massive way, the ramifications of which he did not want to think. Right now, hearing sirens in the background indicating help was finally here, he knew he had a job to do.

As the arriving force took control of the situation: firefighters trying to douse out the fire, a team of policedeer keeping any lingering civilians or arriving press back and a few ambulance lying in wait to take anyone to the hospital (mostly for the crowd as, given the situation, they too doubted anyone had survived the accident), Väinö left to report to his superior about what he found.

He could already picture the newspapers tomorrow as he heard the ramblings and voices of newsdeer furiously writing down the story unfolding in front of them either by themselves or to their assistants standing behind them. Ignoring them as best as he could, he finally found his superior officer and, while waiting for him to finish bellowing orders to other policedeer in his signature gruffy voice, took a second to collect himself and think upon how he would break the news.

Deep down, however, he knew that no matter how he delivered the evidence, it would affect many deer in a huge way in all levels of Feslott society. Not only was the deer in question one of the most powerful and well entrenched elite in the city but, ironically, was also known to be one of the most fair-minded of their people, and a big proponent and supporter of the police in their hunt for changelings. Losing them would send a shockwave to all corners of the city.

Despite this, Väinö took a deep breath and steeled himself. No matter what he or anyone thought, what's done was done. He, as he once again reminded himself, had a job to do. Perhaps the most important one out of all of them.

Seeing the officer in front of him gaining a bit of respite from his non-stop overview of the accident, Väinö trudged forward to report to him, but not before looking at the identity card one final time.

Helmi Lehtisaari. CEO of Lehtisaari Fur Conglomerate

---

Far past the city borders, a lonely guard post stood alongside one of the few roads leading out of Feslott; its occupants either keeping watch over their designated stretch of road or taking a break playing the same card games for umpteenth time while their comrades rotated into watch shift. A single hut with barely any provisions made up their entire command post from which they operated. But, given that almost nothing of note ever happened near their post, they were content with it regardless.

As time forged ahead, those that passed by them were of typical nature: the goods trucks that delivered cargo to and from the city, armed forces(military or law enforcement), and the rare but not out-of-ordinary elite who wished to get out of the city every other night or so. As per protocol, they all required the right permits to leave the city. To prevent changeling infiltration, of course; although, it wouldn't be amiss to guess that sometimes the guards took certain...liberties with the ones that passed by them.

Sometimes, however, there came by a vehicle of utmost curiosity and apprehension. Like the oil tanker truck that rolled by the guard post at 2 in the morning. Eyeing it with a suspicious glare, the officer on guard rotation came by to the driver's window and knocked on it with a slightly harsher thump. Trucks were known to be prime vehicles used by smugglers to transport goods deemed illegal by law. In recent years, their number had been cut down massively, but some still took their chances. Unless you had the right permit from the right source, there was little chance many could continue forth to their destination.

The guard kept his weapon on ready as the windows rolled down to greet him, but as soon as they did, a surprised grin quickly manifested itself on his face seeing who was behind the wheel.

"Mikael! What are doing here? By the Gods...it has been so long since we met, mun ystävä!" the guard exclaimed, albeit with a restrained glee so that he wouldn't disturb the other resting guards.

"Antero! How good to see you again as well. I hope you and your boys are having a better night than I am with this," the driver replies while pointing to his tanker. "Truthfully, though, I did not expect to see out here too. Must have been the Gods' work indeed. I know it has been long, but my new job expects me to work my ass off even in the dead of night," he groaned, with a bitter laugh following after.

The guard looked at him sympathetically. "Yes, I can very well understand that. We used to be on day shift, but then apparently someone complained about there being too much sun! Too much sun! Can you believe that? Ever since then, we have been on guard in the night. And they wouldn't even tell us who did it!"

The driver howled with laughter at that, which soon prompted his old friend to laugh as well. The rest of the guards looked on in astonishment at what was happening but, given that it wasn't them on watch, promptly gave no further thought to it as they let their colleague manage the situation.

The two laughed and talked for a while, giving the bitter cold around them a certain warmth radiating from their old friendship. But even this warmth was no match for time. Soon, the guard asked the driver the fateful question, "So do you have a permit for this piece of hunk Mikael?"

The driver grew visibly disturbed from this question, and fidgeted around as he gave a straight yet quiet answer to him, "No. I do not have one." Antero gave an alarmed look, as he looked back briefly to the other guards to see if they heard that. Realizing that none had heard, he brought his gaze once more to Mikael.

"What are you saying, Mikael? Do you not know that no one is allowed to leave the town without a proper notarized permit? By the Gods!" he cursed, with a restraint once more in his voice. But before he could say anything further, Mikael held his beak close with his claws and spoke quickly with a pleading voice, "Please Antero, listen to me before you say anything. I know that, under normal circumstances, you would have to send me back. However, I am asking you this once to please allow me to pass without the permit."

Antero didn't say anything, even after Mikael removed his claw, and simply stood there dumbfounded. As if to strike it home, Mikael added one last point, "Of course... I will be willing to forget about that favour you owe me."

At the mention of that incident, Antero jolted out of his stupor and, after a few minutes of deliberation, slowly nodded his head in agreement. A quaint all-knowing smile seemed to glide onto the muzzle of the driver as he touched his cap while nodding back to the guard.

"It really was nice to see you, old friend. Maybe after I finish this delivery, we will catch some drinks together at our favourite bar," he said with a jovial grin. Antero nervously grinned back, then turned towards his fellow soldier near the gate. "He's clear!" he shouted with a quiver in his voice, as he saw the gate rise and the truck began to roll forward; and soon, disappearing into the darkness.

Antero let out a forceful sigh, as he rotated once more with another guard and retired to where his other colleagues were: either playing another game of cards or simply whistling a tune in the silent night. Unbeknownst to him, his hands were slightly shaking that mirrored his troubled look. His senior officer, a kind old deer, caught it and asked him, "What's wrong Antero? You look a lot worse for the wear. Guard duty becoming too much for you?" he chuckled at that last statement.

"No...no I am fine. Just...tired. I swear, the day I find out who complained to the superior..." Antero seemed to mumble on but stopped when he heard his senior gasp, "Huh! You don't know? There was no complaint! Someone had just made that up as an excuse to drive our asses away. We were always going to end up on night duty no matter what."

Antero froze after hearing that, the weight of that revelation falling over him. With no one to blame, he suddenly wished to strangle the one person he could: himself.

---

Mikael whistled a joyful tune, the hard part of his journey now behind him. At a fair distance from the city, his eyes began to search rapidly for something; and then zoned on it once he knew he had found it. Bringing the truck to a stop near it, he made a mental note to later thank his 'helpers' that he hired earlier for actually doing their jobs. Stepping out, he briefly walked over to it to make sure everything was present and working properly, before giving a satisfied sigh and walking to the back of his tanker truck.

Climbing on top of it, he spent the better part of a minute opening the hatch on top of the tanker, hoping he hadn't made it too air-tight by habit. Once the hatch finally opened, he peered down into the abyssal black for a second, trying to spot some sort of movement. Realizing quickly that this was impossible in the darkness, he called out with a low shout, "Is everyone alright? We passed the border guards, now we can make the rest of the journey in a more comfortable accommodation as we discussed."

At the sound of his voice, a cacophony of voices was heard from the tanker's depths: some tired groans, a cheer here and there, and a lot of coughs (which confirmed that had secured the hatch a little tighter than was comfortable). A few shouted, "Finally!" which reverberated uncomfortably in the closed space, causing many to wince irritably as they covered their ears in reflex.

"Shh! We are still not completely in the clear. You must come out one-by-one and head to the truck up front. You will find the necessary clothes you must wear, along with some provisions. Now quickly!" Mikael urged, looking frantically around him for anything that could give them trouble.

Meanwhile, the party hiding in the tanker—deeply tired from the asphyxiating journey—did as they were told with a silent zeal, eager to finish their harrowing journey. While many looked overjoyed at the slightly better conditions of driving in the back of a truck than in the annals of another suffocating vehicle, there was one that had a frustrating look on her face, which most would not notice due to it being hidden by the cloak around her. The orange pony besides her gave a sympathetic look but gestured her to let it go. They had more important priorities.

With a huff, the deer finally moved towards the languished pile of clothes that lay in the truck, picking up a set that seemed to be her size. As others began to change in earnest, she walked a bit further from the group to change in private. As the minutes rolled by, Helmi finally finished changing and, with a quick deep breath, rejoined her group soon after.

Being the scion of a well-known family, she had always radiated a natural commanding aura around her, which was boosted further by what she was wearing: the clothes for an armydeer, just like the rest of her hodgepodge group, who gazed at her like her little soldiers waiting for orders. But soon, the mirage broke as Mikael banged the truck with a harsh thump from the driver's seat, signalling them to get moving.

The next few hours rolled by in continued silence, as most of the group finally received enough space and cool air to feel sleepy. The truck began to echo with the sounds of snoring deer, when Helmi felt a little nudge on her right side. Turning towards the source, she gazed upon the one who had disturbed her. Her eyes met the ones of a young deer, who looked only slightly older than Helmi herself. Her face was covered in soot and dirt, and her stomach screamed of starvation, yet she radiated an inner strength as her hand—holding a snack bar—rose towards Helmi.

As her eyes grew in astonishment and suspicion, the deer beside her reassured her in a silk-song like voice, "Relax dear. You look you saw a ghost. Name's Lumi. Lumi Korhonen. And you must be... Helmi Lehtisaari... right?" she asked in a confident tone. Helmi grew concerned: this was exactly the sort of attention she was hoping not to get. Not after what she had... done... to disappear. But surprisingly, Lumi seemed unconcerned that she was sitting next to someone that, just a few hours ago, was the richest deer in all Feslott. Maybe even Olenia.

No, the way she talked was as if Helmi was just an old friend who, like Antero, she couldn't believe would see in a situation like this. At first, Helmi was apprehensive of talking to her but soon her brow settled, and her muzzle lost its tension as she found herself listening to the stories of this stranger with rapt attention.

She soon found out how she knew her: she worked at one of her distribution centers and was one of their best employees. She talked about how gradual reforms made by Helmi was like a gift from the gods for many of her workers, Lumi included. Her positive accounts regarding work and colleagues very much surprised Helmi, who had—for a long time—saw Feslott as nothing more than fetid backwater; a seedy underbelly of the Olenian society that was always far away but never far enough.

"Even though I finally hit a breaking point myself, I will never forget the good times I had with the few friends I made in the city. I will miss them," she sighed while looking back at the city longingly.

"I will miss them very much. But I can stay in the city no longer."

Saying this, her eyes turned towards Helmi. "I suppose it's the same for you, if you are here. I guess the city has a way of drowning those that live at its peak. But I suppose… that doesn’t concern me," she concluded with an airy tone as she looked back at the snow-covered city.

“Say, do you think you will miss anyone? Friends? Family?” she asked suddenly. Helmi merely shook her head when asked about any friends (the only one in her life was conveniently sleeping right across her) but she shuddered upon hearing the word ‘family.’

“I…have a brother. He is older than me, but we very quickly realized he never had any acumen for running a business. So, he was sidelined in favour of me. An arrangement I am sure he was happy with,” she replied with a spite in her voice. Lumi tilted her head curiously as she asked, ”So does that mean he will take over the company?” at which Helmi replied that she didn’t know.

“He was always a ruffian. Hanging out with his gang buddies deep in the forests. I have heard tales, but I never wanted to confirm them. I…”—she paused with a deep melancholic sigh—“I haven’t seen him in 6 years since he left. I don’t know what has become of him. I pray to the gods he is alive.”

“And I pray we never meet again.”

“Why is that?” Lumi asked.

Helmi looked her dead in the eye as she said, “Because he would make me suffer.”

Comments

[SOTANORSU]

Feela like a good story, but I'd reconsider the picture. As a Finn, the names also really threw me of.

[UnknownError]

So, there is a car crash that takes about four paragraphs to describe the scene. The actions moves slowly, ploddingly, without much forward movement to get the reader invested. It's a look at Olenian society, but it's not a compelling look. As it's written, there's no tension in that moment. It's not interesting. Väinö hears the crash, goes to investigate, immediately spots the roaring fire and keeps the pedestrians away, then spots the card in the snow, but it's told to the reader ineffectively.

It takes four paragraphs to know the main character's name. It's a stylistic choice, but the story is slow. Lastly, the cover art is...a bit much. If the story is Anthro, fine, it has a place, but the story doesn't seem to be anthro so it's an odd choice.