partisans of Eqwuestria

by Ferencelvtars

The Diary

Author's Note:

Hello everyone, with this chapter, I am temporarily closing the story, and I will start another one, as after this point, the story drastically becomes confusing even for me.

Ferko didn't seek the source of the earthquake for long; the yaks were quickly approaching. Ferko and Sweetie Belle started shooting from cover, and Starlight hurried for the others. However, one of the yaks stopped and raised a strange tube to his shoulder, aiming at Ferko and Sweetie Belle.

"Run!" Ferko shouted, but the yak had already fired. Sweetie Belle barely avoided the shot. However, Ferko grabbed the gun, tore it from the yak's hooves, and shot back. The rocket hit the yaks squarely, causing them to turn and flee. Ferko and Sweetie Belle followed them. They pursued the yaks at a running pace, but soon lost sight of them.

The city lay mostly in ruins; the mines and the battle had caused immense damage. Most of the houses were damaged. Moreover, though primitive, Sombra had acquired a rocket launcher, which was inexplicable to Ferko, as it also bore the eagle and the curious half-T cross (this is actually a symbol of National Socialism, and therefore I don't name it).

Ferko was disappointed, trying to channel his anger through reading the book. The sun was shining less brightly; the clock struck six or seven, and Ferko just read and pondered. Finally, a funny idea struck him. He took a piece of paper and began writing, using his horn. He wrote and wrote, and wrote. When Sweetie Belle came to him, there was already a nice volume of ten papers beside him.

"Ferko, what are you doing?" she asked, looking strangely at the stack of empty and full pages.

"Oh, well, I thought I'd write a diary? Or a novel that describes our story," he replied, turning to his young friend. The young unicorn mare didn't hesitate and jumped onto the table, which was actually a large rock that had flown out of a house.

"You know, Sweetie Belle, stories, if not written down, get distorted and change, and everyone says what they want, but the real recorded stories, whether on the walls of caves or told with dusty stacks of paper, are immutable and inheritable. And our story deserves a book," Ferko continued writing, glancing at Sweetie Belle. The young one looked and looked, then slowly spoke up.

"I guess you're right, but aren't stories usually written down afterward, not during?" Sweetie Belle had other questions swirling in her mind, but this was the biggest, the pivotal question she desperately wanted to know the answer to.

"Well, not entirely. In my world, there was a man. History claims many things groundlessly, but he, he was surely there. His name was Miklós Horthy. When he led his people into war, he provided detailed descriptions of everything, and many of his soldiers did the same, which is why we know so much about our people from that time," Ferko paused for a moment, then continued after taking a deep breath. "As a matter of fact, he fought for what he believed in until his death, and even his death was meticulously recorded, how and why he died. If we didn't write during, then no one would know anything afterward," Ferko concluded his monologue. Before Sweetie Belle could respond, Ocellus stepped onto the scene with Diamond Tiara by her side.

"Hello, what's the charming conversation about?" asked the young pony, not really hiding her curiosity, along with Ocellus. Ferko tried to cover Sweetie Belle's mouth just as she was about to speak up.

"Ferko's writing a legend about us," Sweetie Belle said, smoothly thwarting Ferko's plans.

"Oh, that's great! Will it include the part where I held back 100 ponies alone?" Ocellus asked excitedly. "Or when..."

"Don't continue, or I'll throw that idea into the fire as well," Ferko intervened. With that, the conversation froze like a mirror in winter. Ferko spent the rest of the day writing, and he pondered the question of the landmine, how, and more importantly, why it ended up with the yaks. Eventually, his writing slowly buried his thoughts in sleep, and a pile of papers served as a pillow, while the belt with potion bottles acted as a blanket.

Though Sweetie Belle burned with questions, she couldn't disturb her friend, knowing that everything had its time. Along with Scoutalu, they needed to bring supplies back to the base.

Sweetie Belle and Scoutalu slowly trudged towards the city of ten thousand years, carrying a crate of apples and a smaller barrel of pears. The landscape was gently early spring; the wild roses bloomed, and raspberries had just appeared on the bushes. In the distance, owl eyes and deer antlers gleamed in the moonlight, and beyond that, only Sweetie Belle's horn provided some light. The journey passed uneventfully as Scoutalu recounted the events of her first race. Suddenly, they saw a light. Scoutalu spotted it first as she was higher up.

"Hey, Sweetie Belle, spread out," whispered the little pegasus, quickly descending beside Sweetie Belle.

"What's happening here?" Scoutalu asked bewilderedly, but before she could say more, Scoutalu made a small gesture with her horn, cutting off the magic's path. "Ow, Scoutalu, do you know how sensitive my horn is? What's wrong with you?" she exclaimed, rubbing her horn and trying to look around.

"There's something behind the bushes."

"Don't talk nonsense."

"But I saw it."

"Well, if it turns out to be a fox, then I..."

The voices were familiar to Scoutalu and Sweetie Belle, but they couldn't place them. In any case, they rushed behind a makeshift path and darted behind the bushes. "What now?" whispered Sweetie Belle. Scoutalu shrugged and reached for the radio, from which an unknown code could be heard. It continued. Follow.