From Stalliongrad With Love

by LoyalLiar

You Only Live Thrice, Part II

VII

You Only Live Thrice

– Part II –

Если вы читаете это, то будьте готовы к диалогам зрелищным и вульгарным, так как части этой главы имеют гриф "Для взрослых". Вас предупредили.

Особая благодарность моим переводчикам: Keyesty, и Google Translate (за фразы Росчерка)

- - -

The sickle swung for Shining Armor's already bleeding neck. Only a quick flip of his shoulder put steel and magical amethyst between himself and the gale-force winds surrounding the notched steel weapon. At the same moment, his horn surged, and his pegasus assailant was flung across the room.

Feathers the color of wheat flared, a field in the wind. The motion brought forth a spin and a flip, so that it was his hind hooves and not the back of his black jacket that caught the bookshelf. Around the handle of the sickle, a mouth grinned beneath a spiky, wild gray mane. The coat flapped wildly from the winds filling the small room, and the pegasus launched himself once more at Armor.

Magic would have come too slow for the stallion; even a shield would not have beaten the pegasus. Instead, Armor relied on the one trick he had left. Lowering his head and throwing forward his right shoulder, he braced against the charge.

The force was painful, especially given the still-open wound on the far side of his neck. Despite the pain, the play worked in the captain's advantage. He was large for a unicorn, and pegasi were known for being lighter than their land-bound peers. The bladed sickle struck once more against Platinum's Ward, only to slide off without any effect. Then the pony wielding the weapon struck Armor's side, and likewise bounced off to little effect.

Before the other pony could stand up, Shining Armor gathered his magical aura around the pegasus' weapon and tore it away. A casual flick of his head launched the farming tool across the room, where it lodged cleanly into a bust of Smart Cookie.

Clutching his wound with a forehoof, the captain of the Royal Guard of Canterlot glared down at his foe. "You are under arrest for assault, attempted murder, and resisting arrest."

"Научись говорить по-Стольноградски, или иди оттрахай себя." the Black Cloak growled as he struggled to right himself.

Shining smiled, even as he shook his head. Then he turned to the door, hanging ajar, and called out. "Princesses, I have the situation under control. Could one of you tell Sergeant Crack to bring me a set of manacles?"

- - -

September 8th, 1452 A.S.
Golden Oaks Library
1351 Hours

The road to Ponyville's library was deserted of any ponies save the three mares accompanying a marginally confused and severely bruised stallion in search of his father. Nopony was speaking as they approached. In premise, this was simply a matter of a lack of subject. In practice, this was because exactly nopony wanted to hear a word out of Roscherk's addled mind, given how much effort it would likely take to decipher that linguistic Gordian knot.

Thusly they continued up to the library until a strangely familiar pair of 'chariots' came into view. At least, the three mares would have called them chariots. Ink's glance observed that they were, respectively, a cross section of a padded cell in a gilded asylum and the latter half of a locomotive engine in spiked black metal. The better of the two was probably comparably aerodynamic to a parachute.

"What do you think those are for?" Rainbow asked.

"If I had to guess, I'd say the Princesses have come to visit Twilight." Rarity paused to ponder for a moment. "Though it isn't like them to drop by unannounced. You know how Twilight gets."

Applejack gave a mild shrug. "Luna'd probably think it was funny."

"You have a fair point, Applejack. I wouldn't mind speaking with Princess Luna on the topic of private property and her guardsponies either."

As they approached, a shouting voice could be heard in the air. It made Ink chuckle aloud, though it was lost on the mares in his company.

"Ты, чёкнутая сука! Чё я тебе сделал, а? У нас есть жеребенок, которого я не помню?"

A globe engulfed in a purple aura smashed through the library window, landing a few feet from Ink's forehooves. He stopped laughing. The mares seemed at least slightly perturbed, but Roscherk was more concerned with the other voice he had heard. He charged forward (somewhat woozily) through the door.

Not, it should be noted, through the doorway. As the splinters settled to the library floor, Ink took in the scene. There was a farming sickle of polished steel, sized so that it might well have been called obscene (when it wasn't being called Пожалуйста, о, пожалуйста, не убивайте меня, or just Aaagh!, followed by a succession of obscenities and/or ultimately fatal gargling noises). It had somehow gotten stuck more than a foot deep into a wooden bust of Smart Cookie. There were two toppled bookshelves, whose books had been strewn everywhere. Some were burnt, some were covered in a thin layer of frost, a few seemed to have burst into piles of loose pages, and at least three had sprouted legs and begun to run and hop around the room blindly.

In the center of Hurricane Twilight was the mare herself, with her mane and tail somehow literally on fire despite the lack of a pair of wings on her back. Her magic flared repeatedly, though it wasn't so much attacking as it was lashing out at random in bolts of arcane power. Ink rather casually sidestepped one such blast. A surge of electricity added some height to his spiky, slung back manestyle as the energy shot past him, transforming a bookshelf into a painting of a bowl of wax fruit.

"Impressionsists..." Ink growled, before returning his focus to the room.

On the far side of the library, protected by a shield of radiant scarlet, were Princesses Celestia and Luna, Captain Shining Armor, and that one guardspony whose wing Ink had broken, but whose name he could not recall. If memory served, the other stallion was one of Ink's new subordinates, for what good it did.

Despite the presence of the diarchs, Ink's attention was most held by a much older acquaintance at Twilight's side. Partially cuffed by steel manacles and partially frozen to a wooden stool 'sat' a curious looking wheat brown stallion with a mane of deliberately spiked gray hair. Some of it was also on fire, but in a clearly non-Empathic fashion. His teeth, filed to minor spikes–which created far more of the appearance of a total idiot than the 'bear' he had been aiming for–gnashed together in a furious but futile resistance almost reminiscent of a holy text.

"Serp?"

"Комендант?" The actively burning pegasus looked up from his assailant with a glimmer of hope. "Ну спасибо гребаной Селестии! Убери от меня эту суку! Мне кажется, она хочет моего тела!"

Twilight whirled, ripping Serp's sickle out of the bust with a surge of telekinesis. It was clear she hadn't meant to wield the thing, as her aura gathered in two distinct points at the blade and the handle, ready to snap the weapon in half. The twisting of her neck brought her glowing eyes in line with Ink's. He stared at her rather blankly, as if disbelieving of her state. The flames on her neck settled slowly to a natural purple mane, and she simply stopped in place. "Oh." The weapon clattered quite loudly to the ground.

"You saying to have 'oh'? Only?"

Twilight groaned. "No, I'm 'having' a lot more to say than that, Roscherk. For starters, what the hay is one of your soldiers doing in my house, trying to kill me?" Her hoof pointed with obvious accusation in Serp's direction.

Ink's brow rose, and then turned toward his old friend. "Серп, какого хрена вы делаете с Искоркой?"

"Она та шлюха мятежников, о которой я тебе говорил прошлой зимой! Та самая, что помогла ёбаному Альянсу Повстанцев сбежать, когда я проводил мой рейд в том баре. Хорошо хоть, я получил немного выпивки из этого."

Ink slapped his face with his hoof, and then found himself regretting the motion as the bruise dominating his brow began to throb with searing pain. "Ah!"

"What?" Rainbow Dash called from the doorway upon hearing the sound of the gasp of pain. She, Applejack, and Rarity entered the room at the same time that Shining Armor decided Twilight's magical rage had finally simmered down, and lowered his shield. All at once, ten ponies were trying to speak to one another in two different languages. Somewhere, Discord wept with joy.

It was nearly three full minutes of noise later that Luna spoke up with a magically empowered voice.

"There shall be silence!"

And lo, it was so. The room pivoted almost as one to face the ruler of the night, who sat back calmly on the library floor and smiled. "Thank thee."

"You," Celestia corrected, in a whisper audible to the entire room.

"Shut up, Celestia! We're trying to work here!" Luna coughed into her hoof. "Ahem... Captain Ink, who is this stallion?"

Ink scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well... This mine friend... Round Farm Blade." He pointed to the weapon near his hooves on the floor by way of clarification.

"It is called a sickle," Shining Armor muttered under his breath.

"What happened to your Equiish, Roscherk?"

Luna raised a hoof. "One at a time please, Twilight Sparkle." Turning to Roscherk, she continued. "Now, doth Sickle have some explanation as to his attempted murder of Twilight Sparkle?"

"Ah... yes." Roscherk turned, placing a calming foreleg over Serp's shoulder. "He thinking she was criminal solder rebel from Stol'nograd."

Luna's brow rose, in part from the train-wreck of words, and in part from their implications. "Is this the normal state of affairs in Stalliongrad? Breaking into ponies’ homes on suspicion of treason and attempting murder without regard for trial or arrest?"

Ink's eyes widened slowly. "What answer I giving that problem goes away?"

It was at this point that Shining Armor stepped forward. "For war crimes, including but not limited to corruption, attempted murder, and murder, I'm placing you both under arrest."

- - -

"Did you see him?"

"He's soo dreamy!"

"Those wings are beautiful!"

"And his mane..."

"I want his foals!"

Had Roseluck known the identities of the stallion's foals, she might have had a different opinion. However, without such knowledge, she was left gossiping with her friends across the street from the attractive stallion sitting alone at a table within Sugarcube Corner.

The approaching stallion in a tan neighru jacket and a blue Prench silk scarf (which had replaced his gift to Rarity–always carry a spare scarf) was momentarily confused, until he saw the pony in the window and realized just what was happening. It seemed like the mares of Ponyville were no different than those of Stalliongrad: everypony wanted an alicorn for his body.

The bell over the door rang as he entered, and only a moment later his personal space was rather violently invaded. "Welcome to Sugarcube Corner! Can I get you anything?"

Foresight glared down through his glasses at the pink earth pony mare quite literally pressed against his muzzle. "A bit of space would be wonderful."

She darted off at a speed he was certain should have resulted in a sonic boom, and came back with a chocolate-frosted pastry balanced on a tea plate on her right forehoof. "Here you go! I figured that the moon is in space, so a little bit of space would be like a piece of the moon; that's why I brought you a moon pie! They're Princess Luna's favorite! Ooh, I should bring her one!"

Foresight tried to take a step toward the alicorn in the room, and was cut off by the mare darting into his path. "Wait, you're new! Oh, I haven't met either of you yet! I need to throw you a welcome party–"

Foresight's magic clamped down on the mare's muzzle, transforming her words into "Mmph bmmbph mm..."

"No thank you. My father and I are very busy, and will only be in town shortly."

The mare somehow managed to step out of Foresight's telekinetic grasp. "Well, that just means we need to have the party sooner, silly."

"No." Foresight pushed his way past the mare, only to be blocked again as she darted into his path.

"Aww... Why are you so grumpy?"

"Because my brother is an imbecile, and I would very much like to get back home." He picked her up with his magic, set her down to his side, and walked forward.

She shot to his side like a particularly infuriating bolt of lightning. "Oh, that's too bad... where's home, then? Your accent sounds a bit like Bitaly or Trottingham or Prance. Ooh, are you from Canterlot? There are lots of fancy-sounding ponies there! Did I guess right?"

"Stalliongrad." Foresight took a seat. "Hello, Father."

"Oh!" The mare's eyes widened as she cut off what would have been a quiet conversation. "Are you Inky's brother?"

Foresight stared at his father, and his father stared back. After almost a minute of silence, the Tsar of Stalliongrad turned slowly. "Does he actually let you call him that?"

"Yuppers!" Pinkie answered. "He'd have to, like, clamp down on my mouth or something to really stop me, and that wouldn't be very nice. It isn't very nice to do it with magic either, mister. But still, I forgive you..."

She didn't actually stop speaking as Foresight leaned forward across the table. “Она это серьезно, Отец?”

"Ни малейшего понятия," Watchful Eye answered calmly. "Разве она не однa из носительниц Элементов Гармонии?"

"Розовый пирог, кажется. Что-то было не так насчет перевода в газете. Я могу это произнести лучше на Эквестрианском."

"...and that's why seedless watermelons are illegal in Saddle Arabia."

Foresight's eyes widened in proportion with his confusion, and then swiftly drooped with the revelation that he had no desire for an explanation. "That's very interesting," he lied, calmly. "This is a café, correct?" The acute on the 'e', which he had taken care to correctly pronounce, went unappreciated.

"Yup! Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville's bakery, cafe, and–"

"I'd like a small Marocchino. My father will have a straight black coffee with two sugars and heavy cream."

"Oh, you're thirsty! Okey dokey!" Pinkie shot off like a bullet, only to return before either Stalliongradians had found the time to turn back toward each other. "Silly me, I forgot to ask what you wanted to eat. We have muffins and cupcakes and pie and cake and teacakes and tiramisu and baklava–"

"We aren't here to eat."

"–and strudel and cannoli and hot cross buns and–"

"Pinkamena Pie, we are not here for your food!" Foresight did not shout, but his words were forceful, and perhaps edging towards cruelty.

Pinkie visibly wilted. "Aww, but... You've got to try something."

"We will," Watchful Eye told her. "Because contrary to what Predvidenie thinks, I actually did come to a bakery to eat. Give us whatever you recommend."

Pinkie's eyes lit up like what an uninspired author might describe as something very, very bright. She shot off again, leaving the two stallions alone.

"Thank you, Dad," Foresight muttered sarcastically. "I can't wait for some sugary garbage to ruin my coffee."

"You're in a delightful mood," Watchful Eye observed, folding his wings and leaning back in his seat. "I take it you found Roscherk?"

"I wouldn't have believed it this morning. He found his way into teaching primary school."

"He hasn't hurt anypony there, has he?"

Foresight chuckled. "Last I checked, none of their parents were contracted assassins."

Watchful Eye gave a very curious glance to his eldest son. "Is that something I should know about Stoikaja?"

Foresight became very pale, and picked at the cuff of his scarf. "Look, Father, I... I know this sounds strange, but I promised Roscherk I wouldn't discuss it–"

"–and breaking a promise is the fastest way to lose a friend... foreeeverr!" Having concluded her spiel, Pinkie Pie emerged fully from beneath the table, and deposited frosted cake composed of numerous brightly colored blocks atop the table, along with a pair of coffee mugs.

The two stallions were stunned into silence by the appearance of the mare. She sat relatively calmly at the side of their table, humming a somewhat familiar tune and waiting for them to eat.

Watchful Eye regained his composure first. "How did you do that?"

"Well, mostly, I used fondant. You can see the joints in the blocks were a little tricky, but I thought you two would appreciate it." She smiled wide, and went back to humming.

Foresight turned slowly. "Is that "Земли Вечного Лета" you're humming?"

Pinkie laughed. "No, silly. It's the Tetris theme!"

As Foresight stared in confusion, Watchful Eye served himself a piece of cake with his hooves, and then took a sip of coffee with the same limbs. It was Pinkie's turn to be slightly confused. "Hey, Mr. Eye, how come you don't use your magic?"

The Tsar gave a glance to the pink mare, then closed his eyes, squinted up his face, and focused. His cup of coffee rose from the table slowly and not particularly steadily. After a bit of trouble the beverage reached his lips, at which point he took it in his hooves again to actually tilt it back and drink. After setting the coffee down, he wiped his brow of a bead of sweat. "Being an alicorn does not make me powerful, Pink."

"Call me Pinkie."

"Alright, Pinkie. Well, my point is that most ponies assume I can... I don't know, raise the sun or live forever or something similarly ridiculous. They imagine I live in some giant castle–"

"Father, we do live in a giant castle."

Watchful Eye grimaced. "We live in about a third of the rooms of a giant castle, and leave the rest untouched. But my point is that when somepony sees an alicorn, their mind sees a pony who has infinite power, that all the mares will fawn over instantly without any reasoning, and who will save the world, and have more power than even the Princesses. And while I do sometimes attract the attention of shallow mares, the supposed benefits are not worth the trouble they bring." Watchful Eye grabbed a piece of cake, and found it to be composed of four flat 'cubes' of pastry, in the shape of a 'T'. He spared himself a moment to take a bite and swallow before concluding his thoughts. "Then again, I could say the same of the different breeds of ponies in society, or of magic in general." As if somehow aware of how brutally political and cynical his tirade had become, Watchful Eye looked down at his cake with brow askew. "Are there lollipops in this?"

"Oh, you noticed!" Pinkie hopped up. "Watch out; I think I got all the sticks, but I don't want you to get surprised."

At this point, somepony might have pointed out that Pinkie would usually have made some comment to the effect of Watchful Eye not choking to death on a lollypop stick simply by virtue of the necessity of his appearance in the immediate sequel. However, contrary to popular opinion, Pinkie's peculiar version of Endura 'danger sense' was still restricted to 4-dimensional space, and could not branch into hypothetical universes. Or, to use laypony's terms, she lacked the capacity to 'break the fourth wall'. Isn't that right?

"Yup," Pinkie answered. Neither Stalliongradian leader bothered to ask her who she was replying to as she inclined her head off toward the most distant corner of the room's ceiling. Thus, the only thought in Foresight's mind was to fetch a doctor (preferably a psychiatrist) when her leg began twitching rapidly.

"Are you having a seizure?" the unicorn asked rather flatly.

"Nope. Pinkie Sense. You two should hurry to the library; I think Inky needs your help."

"Pinkie Sense?" Watchful Eye asked. Foresight's seven-and-a-half university degrees failed him as he simply shrugged.

"Just trust me; you should go quickly. Not that you two shouldn't be quick about everything."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Foresight inquired.

"Well, when you're Russian, there's no time for Stalin."

Two bags of flour fell on the floor in the kitchen, followed closely by a frying pan. A full two beats later, an alicorn and a unicorn walked out the door thoroughly confused. Neither had laughed.

Pinkie glanced upward as Gummy popped his head out of her mane. "Well, I thought it was funny."

- - -

"Joke."

"I'm not sure I follow..."

"This is joke." Roscherk stated as a fact. His body was struggling to fight Shining Armor's magic.

Celestia glared down at him. "This is not a laughing matter, Red Ink. These accusations against you are serious and troubling."

"You knew!" he growled back. "If this was point, why you were not killing me begin with?"

Serp took a moment to struggle in his partially frozen bonds and offer some guidance to his best friend. "Эта, Росчерк... твои крылья опять возгораюся..."

"Заткнись, Cерп. Я знаю, что я делаю." Ink growled, flaring his wings further. No small amount of smoke rose up to the roof of the library's central room, though the fires themselves disappeared. "In Stol'nograd, we war rebels, many years. Since end of rebel."

"What?" Luna cocked her head. "Thou... fought rebels since the rebellion ended?"

Twilight cut in. "If I may, Princess?"

"That may be wise, Twilight." Celestia interrupted. "We know you will not be as biased a source, and your language is... less inhibited."

Twilight nodded. "Well, let's see. You know about the Blizzard Revolution?"

Celestia looked at Luna, and Luna looked back at Celestia. The former (who was formerly the latter) responded. "We know disappointingly little about these events."

Twilight sighed. "To summarize, it was a social dispute over racial stratification, exacerbated by a period of extreme rebuilding following the Dragon Wars."

"Equestrian knows nothing for Blizzard."

Twilight shook her head and ignored him. "If memory serves, it was the February prior to your return, Princess–" the unicorn nodded toward Luna. "–that Baron Frostbite was killed and the government was overthrown, and Roscherk's father took the title of Tsar."

"We hath met him; a most agreeable stallion." Luna nodded. "Continue."

Twilight gulped. "Well, there was a lot of disagreement about what to do with the 'spoils of war'. Many of the lower-class pegasi and earth-ponies thought that they should be able to loot goods and reclaim lands from the nobility. However, the ponies who formed the new government–Roscherk's family and some of the other leaders of the revolution–stated that these goods and lands would be needed to create stability and to establish a new government. To some ponies, that claim sounded a lot like what the revolution had started over in the first place; especially since the original Black Cloaks who were going to be the new police force were almost all former members of Frostbite's Secret Police."

"You read this all?" Ink asked through gritted teeth.

"Where the information came of is of little concern; do you agree to her representation?" Celestia asked.

"Fine," the stallion growled.

"Alright, then–"

"Sister, We had thought this situation was Ou–" Luna coughed into a hoof. "Was mine to deal with." Celestia dipped her head to defer to her sister, and Luna continued. "Thank you. Roscherk, perhaps others in this room hath grown discomforted by revelations of your past, but I find myself inclined to observe that nothing has truly changed since your initial agreement with my sister."

"Princess!" Shining interrupted. "You can't be serious!" The unicorn, clearly irate, maintained his arcane hold on Ink's torso as he stepped into Luna's field of view. "Think about what he's done! He's killed innocents in cold blood in Baltimare, he nearly got Twilight killed, and now he tells us that he's attacked protesters in their homes!"

Luna leaned forward to Shining so that she could look him in the eye. "Firstly, Captain Armor, I would be straining words to claim the events of Baltimare were murder in cold blood. Secondly, while perhaps his choice in friends is poor–" Luna glared at Serp quite pointedly. "–We would be hard pressed to blame him for those actions. But above all else, We cannot help but notice you are not calling for Our arrest and execution, though we are quite guilty of the same three crimes."

Silence settled on the room like eternal night: chilling and uncomfortable. It was finally broken by the one pony who simply did not understand the cause of the silence.

"Росчерк, почему все замолкли? Луна, что ли, спит с этим озабоченным стражником?"

The comment went ignored, but like the Elements of Harmony, it did restore dialogue to the room. Shining Armor swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to–"

"You were not intended to be scolded, Captain. It was only meant that you should forgive Captain Ink."

Armor's horn released its magic, and Ink (who had lazily been 'leaning' on the telekinetic Arcana) collapsed to the floor suddenly. After a moment of slight awkwardness, an increasingly familiar voice cut in.

"Росчерк, вытащи меня отсюда! Есть еще места, которые я должен увидеть, и пони, которых я должен оттрахать."

Ink moved over to the Black Cloak, only to be stopped by a serious voice. "Not gonna happen." An olive green pegasus with one wing in a sling stepped forward, alongside Shining Armor. "He isn't going anywhere."

Ink rounded like a cyclone, flaring his wings. "He is make honest mistake. Thick, maybe, but Serp is not smart enough for evil. So, as new Commander–"

As Honor Guard Master Sergeant Thunder Crack's right forehoof, shod in steel, lashed out at Ink's head, the Commandant had a flash of insight from the throbbing bruise on his brow. Beneath it, two neurons fired together, which followed with more and more in a burst of lightning that soon reached the muscles of his forelegs.

Nopony saw that. Very few of them actually saw him move, at least at first. His right, thankfully unshod hoof caught Crack's at the knee. His left pulled down on the other Honor Guard's same leg, pulling the wounded pegasus from the floor.

It was a complicated maneuver, but it ended simply. Thunder Crack was hoisted entirely over Ink's back, and judo-thrown directly onto Serp. The stool that the Black Cloak was bound to shattered, though the weight of another pony represented a similar level of restraint.

"Sorry," Ink told the other stallion completely unapologetically. "Slipped."

"Don't compare yourself to the Commander," Crack replied, rolling over.

"Хорош, Комендант, это было что, нарочно? Потому что если так, то ну тебя на хуй."

More senseless violence, almost as ridiculous as to be labeled slapstick might very well have ensued, were it not for the arrival of two far less militant stallions. The first was a blue unicorn in a neighru jacket and a scarf who probably needs no further introduction because his name was Foresight. The second was an undressed, attractive, and apparently younger golden alicorn named Watchful Eye.

"Princesses?" Foresight expressed his surprise. "It's a pleasure to see you." He scanned the room.

"Predvienie, it's good to see you as well," Celestia replied with a diplomatic level of mild disinterest. "And Tsar Eye. I have to confess, I'm surprised to see you."

"Agreed, Sister."

Foresight tilted his head slightly. "Captain Armor. The Crystal Empire was beautiful."

These introductions went on for some time and are not worth reciting in full. Most notable are that the Golden Oaks Library contained three alicorns of varying sizes, three pegasus soldiers, two grown unicorns, and four of the six Bearers of Harmony. Given the little 'Maximum Capacity' plaque above the door, Watchful Eye's entrance had been a criminal act, though nopony felt the need to point that out.

In the course of the realization of just how crowded the room was, Foresight and Tsar Eye had concluded their introductions and finally settled their attentions on the pony in the room whom they had actually arrived for.

"Roscherk Krovyu," Watchful Eye began slowly.

"Oтец."

"Equiish in front of the Princesses, Roscherk. Is something wrong with your voice?"

There was another explanation that need not be repeated.

"Ah. Well, Rainbow Dash, thank you. It would do Roscherk some good to remember he isn't immortal." The Tsar resettled his wings against his back. "I hope we aren't interrupting."

"Or that we are interrupting Roscherk and Serp making fools of themselves," Foresight interrupted.

"Тебе под хвостом ничего не жмет, Предвидение?" Serp asked rhetorically.

Red Ink chuckled audibly, but Foresight managed to ignore the comment with only a gritting of his teeth. The unicorn smiled. "Honestly speaking, can I ask what is actually going on here?"

Further explanation occurred.

Foresight sighed deeply when the subject was completed. "Well... I'll thank you for your kindness to my brother. As for Serp... kill him."

"What?" Ink shouted. Several other faces showed surprise at the unicorn's callousness–his father included.

Foresight gestured calmly in Serp's direction. "If you're expecting me to fight on his behalf, Roscherk, you have no concept of how many hoops I've jumped through because you chose to make him Marshal of Saraneighvo."

Ink's head swayed from side to side with disdain. "So this it? You mad I make joke with students, tell of Ksenia; you think revenge is having them execute Serp? But call me monster."

"No, I think they ought to execute Serp because he is a monster. He follows you around like a little fan, thinking you're 'cool', without understanding what it even means to do your job. And I'd just let him go, but you turned him into... that."

"So my fault?" Ink's wings flared, and for a moment, there was spark along their crests. However, the fire never came to be. "My fault needing soldiers? My fault for glory? For... worship? Or maybe my fault for Stoikaja?"

"Colts!" Watchful Eye shouted. The two grown stallions pulled their faces apart, and became suddenly aware that there were ten other ponies in the room. Most were stunned with shocked faces, or hiding their emotions behind smooth, mask-like expressions from which no opinions could be extracted.

"Father..." Foresight began.

The alicorn stallion wasn't done. "You are both making foals of yourselves, of me, and of our domain. Predvidenie, though I agree with many of your points, being 'right' does not excuse your tone. Roscherk... honestly, I'm not sure what to say at this point that hasn't already been said. I hope the Princess' plan for you works."

"As do we," Luna interrupted. "We feel it must be asked: do you have input on the matter of this 'Sickle' guardstallion?"

Eye sighed, turned slowly toward Serp, and then toward his eldest son. "Predvidenie, defend him."

"What?"

"You are a lawyer–"

"What? No! I have a political science degree and a legal history minor from Trottingham. I don't belong in a courtroom."

"I don't see a courtroom," Watchful Eye observed calmly. "I see a heavily damaged library. You owe this much to me and to your brother. Even if you did not, this was a mistake. If you care to pursue his other behavior at a later date, I would much rather have Serp's punishment handled within our domain."

"But..." Foresight's complaint died slowly as his mind began grinding away. Seven point three six seconds later, he spoke again. "Twilight, can I convince you to forgo pressing attempted murder charges, and instead call it... attempted assault, battery, and wrongful arrest–with the understanding that Serp is a moron and honestly thought you were a rebel from Stalliongrad and not a hero of Equestria?"

"He attacked her with a sickle!" Rainbow Dash cut in.

"I had noticed," Foresight muttered dryly. "Frankly, I don't expect her to accept, but–"

"If you promise to keep him away from other ponies on the streets, I'll take the deal."

Foresight actually dropped his glasses. It took several seconds for him to find them and restore them to his face, and another few to close his mouth. "Well... alright." Then his horn pulled a little pen and a sort of fancy document pad from his jacket. "On behalf of the Army and Guard of the Free and Equal Ponies of the Domain of Stalliongrad, who in turn act on the behalf of Marshal Serp of Saraneighvo, I plead guilty to six-ish counts of criminal property damage and one count each of the aforementioned attempted crimes of assault, battery, and wrongful arrest."

"Predvidenie, what doing?"

Ignoring his brother, the unicorn continued. "Assuming the maximum possible fine for these crimes, as well as a rough estimate of the actual property damage, fees for any psychological counseling needed, and other miscellaneous costs, I conclude our business with this–" Foresight ripped off a small rectangular piece of paper and floated it over to her. "–and the agreement that our domain will never press charges for your unlawful removal of the lost journal of Commander Hurricane from our borders."

Twilight blushed slightly, glanced down at the piece of paper floating before her, and fainted on the spot. Foresight chuckled, set the check down on the table, and turned to the Tsar. "Princesses, this should cover whatever legal fees he would owe your domain, and then some." Another little document landed in front of Luna. "There's a little snippet for Third Brother there too; he'll explain what it means for you." Before any clarification could be requested, the stallion's tone of speech accelerated suspiciously. "That should conclude things. Roscherk, I'd say it was a pleasure to see you again, but I'd be lying." And with that, he walked out of the library.

Watchful Eye nodded to his Diarchs but gave them no actual words. He strode over to his younger living son and wrapped a wing over his shoulders. "You can do this, Roscherk. Come visit when it's done." Then, grabbing the scruff of Serp's black jacket with his teeth, the physically larger Tsar dragged the last unfamiliar face from the room. As Serp was nearly free of the space, Celestia called out to him.

"Было бы полезно, если бы вы следили за своим языком. Вы никогда не знаете, кто может понять вас. Я уверена, что капитан Армор смог бы найти для вас специальную камеру в Кантерлоте, если бы вдруг некоторая пони рассказала ему, что вы говорите за его спиной."

The last glimmer of Serp through the doorway was a white-faced, terrified stallion with his tail so far between his legs that it surely had to be cutting off blood to his more sensitive organs.

Captain Armor and Sergeant Crack followed him out, leaving the Diarchs, the Bearers, and Roscherk relatively 'alone'.

"Is Twilight alrigh’?" Applejack asked.

"Fine," Roscherk answered. "Predvidenie money doing that."

"Oh, I very much doubt it could seriously be that mu...c...h..." Rarity's voice devolved into a whimpering squeal as she lifted Twilight's check.

"Come on, Rarity, what does it say?"

Instead of answering, Rarity beckoned Rainbow and Applejack over. The mares stared at the paper, and promptly reverted to cavepony levels of intelligence at the sight of the staggering volume of '0's Foresight's flowy script had printed.

"He can't actually afford that, can he?" Rainbow asked.

Ink shrugged. "Depend. What number?"

"Seven-hunderd n' fifty million bits."

Ink's brow rose. "Oh."

That was really all there was to be said, but Celestia added a bit of explanation. "Predvidenie is something of a prodigy with the stock market–or so I've heard it said. The ponies from the treasury occasionally come to talk to me about him, but they've audited him half-a-dozen times and they haven't found anything."

"So... this is real money? He actually just made Twilight the richest mare in Ponyville?" Rainbow asked.

"She did almost get stabbed," Applejack observed.

“Heh... I bet she’ll spend it all on books.”

Rarity coughed into her hoof. "I hate to interrupt, but we should probably get her to bed, and–"

"I'll do," Ink told them, before hefting the unconscious mare over his shoulders. "You have jobs, yes?"

"I'm not leaving you alone with Twilight!" Rainbow announced.

"You think am dumb? They being here." He gestured with his neck toward Celestia and Luna. "If you worry, stay. We both sleep. Not much to talk."

Applejack glanced between her two conscious friends. "He, uh... he does have a point. Ah think. Princess, you keep an eye on Twi', now, ya hear?"

"Of course, my little ponies." Celestia bowed her head gently. "I'll see to it you are informed of any further happenings. But for now, I will make one request of one of you. Rainbow Dash."

"Huh? Me?"

"I would appreciate it if you could play host to Mr. Ink while Twilight deals with today's events."

"Whoa, hold on, you want me to let him live in my house?"

Celestia nodded. "You are the owner of the Silver Lining designed home on the skyline here, correct? I was under the impression you lived alone."

"Well, yeah, but... I mean..." Dash struggled, and ultimately failed to produce an argument. "Fine. But only for a few days."

"Thank you, Rainbow Dash. Now, we will see to it that Twilight and Mr. Ink both enjoy an excellent night of sleep. Please, don't let us take up the rest of your days. If you see Captain Armor or Sergeant Crack, send them back. We'll be leaving before moonrise."

- - -

"О! O да! Ну же, Принцесса, это именно так, как я-"

Ink's ecstasy was suddenly interrupted by the sound of Princess Luna's voice. "Forgive me for interrupting."

"Uh... it's not a problem." he lied. "Not a very good dream, anyway."

Luna strode out of the darkness that Ink's mind had not bothered to define and took a deep breath. "In reality, Mr. Ink, We– no, sorry, I was just standing over you in the Ponyville library. You were showing a rather potent sign that you were enjoying yourself." Luna shook her head, and focused her magic. "But we should not dwell on that. Allow me to explain myself. Since your arrival in Ponyville, I have been watching your dreams. It is my suspicion that one such phantasmal memory is of great significance to your quest to become a changed stallion. I had planned to wait, but it seems the date has fallen into my lap. So together, tonight, you and I are going to visit this memory, and unravel whatever it is that haunts you, and defines you."

"Uh... what memory?" Ink asked with obvious worry.

"I do not know yet; we shall discover it together." Luna's horn flashed.

August 30th, 1447 A.S.

"The Wall", Stalliongrad

2143 Hours

Ink could see a younger Roscherk Krovyu and eight of his best Black Cloaks had gathered on the abandoned stones of Baron Frostbite's doomed fortification. Rampant snow fell around them, and their heavy black jackets blew in the wind. The Black Cloaks were watching for something, but Roscherk wasn't interested in them. He didn't particularly sing, but his voice called out certain words, with a defined rhythm.

"The wall is not so cruel my dear, nor icy winter's chill

Go past it not afraid of what's beyond.

It cannot hurt as much as tears and lovers broken wills

that carry on when Frostbite's storms are done..."

"What is that song?"

Ink hesitated to answer at first. "The Lullaby of Stalliongrad. It... well, it began as a revolutionary song. Frostbite would execute ponies at sunset. He'd hurl them off the wall to be eaten by dragons. We–the ponies of Stalliongrad–would sing it, as a sign of resistance, and to comfort the condemned that we couldn't save. Night after night, the Domain joined in this song, and there were fillies and colts who grew up listening to it."

"Like those two?" Luna asked.

Ink recoiled as Roscherk's song stopped with the approach of a eight year old colt, and a five or six year old filly. They were both earth ponies. The former had a sort of pale blue or periwinkle coat, and had the gall to glare daggers at Roscherk. His sister was more tentative in her approach. She looked at him, eyes wide and genuinely afraid. Her eggshell coat grew wet at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to contain her tears, hiding behind the little strand of matted off-white mane that hung down over her face. "P-please, Mr. Blood Stroke..."

Ink pulled Luna's attention away from the dream of his memories. "Leave, Princess."

"I will do no such thing," the Princess of the Night responded resolutely, returning her attention to the dialogue before her. “We believe this is for your own good.”

"You are not going over the wall, foals," Roscherk told the foals. "You are only here so that I can guarantee your mother will arrive as well."

"Mom?"

"Don't listen to him, Neustannaja," the colt cried with a raspy anger. "He's the one who killed daddy."

The filly started bawling; her tears froze into ice not long after they left her eyes, creating a circle of frost across her face.

"If you think I'm going to let you go for crying, you don't know me very well." Ink flared his wings and ignited them into a towering bonfire in the same motion. "I don't know who your father was, but I hope I didn't make it too easy on him. She didn't make it easy for–"

"Commandant!"

Ink and Roscherk both swiveled toward the voice. "What?"

"We've got her; we killed all her friends, but we did like you asked and left her alive."

"Ah." Roscherk smiled like a shark. "Well, little ones, mommy's coming." He turned toward the voice, calling down toward the 'inside' of the Wall, where Stalliongrad lay in the distance, obscured by snow. "Bring her here."

Luna and Ink watched with wide eyes as six Black Cloaks approached from the 'inside' of the Wall, surrounding an off-white mare. Soldier On, as Luna had known her, looked far less like a soldier in Ink's memories. Rather than the harsh glare and the tightened body of a trained killer, 'Stoikaja' wore her mane loose, wild, and long. Her every step betrayed not discipline or focus, but a concern that bordered on madness. None of the Black Cloaks serving as her 'escort' dared to step within hoof's reach of the towering earth pony. When they reached the foot of the crumbled stones leading up to the wall, the party stopped.

"Mommy!"

Little Neustannaja moved to run down the sheer face of the wall. Roscherk wasn't having it. His burning wing swept her hooves out from under her, and his left forehoof shod in steel pressed down against her throat.

"Let her go!" Stoikaja yelled, beginning to spring forward.

"No sudden moves," Roscherk answered. The spite unrestrained in his every word turned to icicles in the bitter air, despite the fire roaring from above his black coat.

Stoikaja's hooves slid to a stop on the icy stone. Desperation rang out over anger. "Please, Roscherk, don't hurt her."

"I'd be glad not to." Roscherk's hoof wrapped around the filly's neck, pulling her up against his chest where her struggles meant nothing against his overdeveloped physique. "Here's how this is going to work, Stoikaja. You admit you were the one who had my brother killed. You tell me where to find the assassin. Then I put your head on a pike in front of Burning Hearth."

"No!" The young colt present had the courage to run up and strike the leg holding his sister. "You're not gonna hurt her!"

Roscherk reared back, not from pain but to grant himself a clear shot. His free right forehoof cracked down on the colt's neck, toppling him instantly.

"Upornyj" Stoikaja ran forward again, only to be stopped when Roscherk placed a hoof between her and the downed foal.

"He is still alive. I don't want to ruin our deal."

"Mommy..." Neustannaja pleaded from within Roscherk's grasp, struggling to free herself in vain.

Stoikaja's wild mane hung unsettled in the wind for a moment before she lowered her head. "You want me, Roscherk? Do it."

"It's not that simple." The smoke billowing from Roscherk's back grew taller against the specks of snow in the air. "You're going to tell Stol'nograd that you were the one who did it. This rebellion of yours is dying with you. I'm tired of losing honest ponies to your lies."

"My lies?" The mare lifted her head. "Polnoch would have been ten-thousand times the Commandant you are. I'll die for my children, but I can't drag the domain with me."

The air cracked like a whip as Ink moved his wings. It wasn't a large motion; more like a gentle readjustment of position, but the fire he projected in huge plumes against the sky was not so peaceful. His body language spoke of a growing anger, as he lowered himself toward the cold stones of the wall. "It's already over, Stoikaja. Spare me the blood."

"Isn't that what you love, Roscherk? The blood?"

"Shut your mouth!"

"Let go of my daughter."

Roaring in anger, Roscherk flung the filly toward the edge of the wall like a ragdoll. She bounced and slid on the cold stones of the wall before coming to rest at the lip of a sheer seventy-foot precipice overlooking a plain of ice, stone, and snow.

Stoikaja's primal scream filled the air, and she began to run forward.

The Commandant roared in anger, and his mouth lit up in orange. A torrent of fire poured off his tongue toward Stoikaja, hot enough to drive away the icy curse that plagued the land. Most of the other Black Cloaks were petrified as smoke engulfed their prisoner. It came as little surprise when Stoikaja tore out of the black clouds toward Roscherk, but she passed him up entirely in the interest of saving her daughter.

He was not so distracted. The steel shoe on his hoof, now heated to the point of glowing white, seared into the mare's flesh with every strike he landed against her. His hooves moved with untraceable speed, slicing into her flesh and searing the shut the wounds they left behind.

She toppled to the cold surface of the wall with a deafening crunch, mere feet from her daughter, too determined in her rescue to even gasp or cry out in pain.

Roscherk pounced atop her and wrapped his hooves around her neck as his wings flared. Only inches from her filly's hooves, Stoikaja was pulled into the air by the burly pegasus who was her most loathed enemy.

"Say it!" he shouted, as consumed by his obsession as he was by flames.

Stoikaja twisted in his grip even as she gasped for air. The sheer might of her body was thrown into a single blow against Roscherk's ribcage. Bones slid into muscle and sinew two dozen feet in the air, and in shock, the short lived flight ended in a sudden fall.

The collision of flesh and bone on ice and stone was deafening, punctuated by a sudden darkness overtaking Ink's memories.

"Is that it?" Luna asked? "This is the memory that–"

"If I told you it was," Ink asked as he clutched his neck in phantom pain, "would you let it stop here?"

Then the chill wind and the dark stones returned as Roscherk's eyes fluttered open to the sight of crumpled Black Cloak bodies with snapped necks and glazed eyes. A few had already fled into the distance, and two more still stood, fighting the titanic rebel as best they could. Stoikaja tackled one with her shoulder as the other's blade clove through her mane. Before the toppled stallion could react, her hoof lashed into his throat twice, drawing blood and tearing a gaping wound. Without standing, her hind legs caught the other stallion's ribcage in a full buck. Spurs of bone shattered from the sides of his chest at the impossible force; he was dead before he hit the ground.

The sparks of Roscherk's rage were still there, but they were nothing compared to the fire that erupted from his back in that moment. Stoikaja turned in wide-eyed surprise as the whole world danced in orange and red and black. The stallion's roar was guttural, indistinct, and defined solely by the rage of having been bested once again. The crackling of fire consumed the wall, as a literal wall of flames expanded to cover the stones of Frostbite's legacy. Bodies burned in coats that wrapped them like body bags. Roscherk could not be brought to notice as he lunged forward.

He struck Stoikaja and her flesh burned. Her hooves shattered his foreleg, but the heat in his blood concealed the pain. He ripped at her and burned her, biting and striking in a whirlwind of flames that would have cooked a lesser pony alive. Her strength and her endurance were nothing against him when his mind refused to recognize such petty concepts as pain and danger. He protected himself not by dodging or blocking, but with the sheer volume of damage he and his fires wrought upon her once-invulnerable form.

For the first time since the Dragon Wars, the snow in Stalliongrad fell black and orange.

When he had broken her guard, his hooves beat against her hind legs again and again and again, burning open flesh and muscle and cracking dried bone to reveal seared marrow. By the time his fury had abated to permit speech, the unstoppable titan of the rebellion could no longer stand.

"Now..." Roscherk panted between his rapid words. "...I'll finish what Frostbite started."

Stoikaja's face was too battered, and her mind too tired to even consider a response. Roscherk hefted her with a wing and a hoof, and carried her to the edge of the wall, where an icy fall awaited. "As Mentor would say, enjoy Hell."

"Mom!" Neustannaja screamed, crawling out from beneath a charred corpse and rushing forward. Stoikaja's head rolled toward her daughter too late to stop the unthinking fury of a guardspony gone mad.

Two ponies fell from the Wall, out of the fire and into the welcome chill of the snow. Roscherk watched them tumble, though the darkness of the night and the falling snow far below concealed what was left of them.

The fire died slowly, leaving a single wounded stallion standing amidst a company of ashes and corpses. The wind picked up, and Roscherk knew that it was finally done. He turned to survey his losses with a hollow gaze, as if he were a farmer looking upon a burnt field. In the dearth of his anger, he could find no emotion for them. No tears were there to shed for the fallen six.

His eyes did stop, once. Amidst the burnt black fabric and the charred coats there was something smaller. He'd thought it was a scrap of fabric, at first. One more memory of Polnoch burnt in the night. But as he stared, he saw the shapes of little legs, and a youthful tail.

Silently, Roscherk collected the body of the bravest little soldier. The colt settled across the stallion's back with the help of a wing. And then, limping on a broken leg, Roscherk Krovyu wandered into the night with the last memories of a travesty, and the weight of two young souls sitting on his own.

Red Ink could not stay as silent.

"Прощай опять мы говорим,

Зная, что расставанье предстоит.

Но ты жди лучей летнего солнца,

В своем сердце меня сохранив."

By the time the notes had finished, the stallion had only his memories for company.

- - -

Third Brother lowered himself onto the library balcony from his roost in the leaves, just as Luna stepped outside. The Night Guard waited for the doors to close before speaking. "So now you know, Mistress."

Luna nodded. "But I find myself wondering: how could you have known? Were you present?"

Third Brother responded with a curt shake of his head. "No, Mistress. The story was told to me some time later."

"By whom, if I may ask?"

Third Brother answered with an unreadable tone. "Stoikaja." The hints of a Stalliongradi accent in the way he said the name caught the Princess by surprise. His tight lips offered no further explanation as he took off into the night.

Author's Note:

For the benefit of English-only readers,

Relentless - Неустанная [Neustannaja]
Unyielding - Упорный [Upornyj]

Comments

[Yamaryu]

Really, hate having to use Google translate to read the more important Russian bits.

Then again learning Russian for one story is a really silly idea...

And I pressed post before I actually said how I liked this chapter, the number of character interacting in the primary scene is well done.

[LoyalLiar]

2904228

Generally speaking, I try to avoid using Russian in dialogue which is actually plot dependent. That being said, there are some jokes in there every once in a while.

Or, like, always.

Thanks!

[Shader]

It is the classic tale of revolutions.

The new boss is often nearly as bad as the old.

[AsiagoUnicorn]

Well, now we know why he hates her so much.

[djthomp]

Sudden wild ass guess, Twilight's fire mode happens because she's a proto-alicorn and has pegasi magic. I may have already made this guess, don't remember offhand.

Pinkie's eyes lit up like what an uninspired author might describe as something very, very bright.

Yikes, that dream/memory. Finally answers a burning question or two.

[zaponator]

Celestia looked at Luna, and Luna looked back at Celestia. The former (who was formerly the latter) responded.

I love this fic.

[LoyalLiar]

2906474
A burning question? Really? That's... something Con Mane would say.

"Well you know what they say, Stoikaja. If you can't take the heat..."

2907217
Why, thank you.

2905821
And just as importantly, you know why she hates him.

2905366
One the one hand (hoof?), yes. On the other terminal appendage of your choice, Ink and his brother and father have yet to start a war with the dragons which spills over out of their domain and into the rest of Equestria. So there is some improvement.

[Fillosof]

2910466
Thank you very match for answering almost all of my questions considering Stol'nograd and it's recent history. But there is something that i want to clarify.

One the one hand (hoof?), yes. On the other terminal appendage of your choice, Ink and his brother and father have yet to start a war with the dragons which spills over out of their domain and into the rest of Equestria. So there is some improvement.

I thought that Dragon Wars started due to its own gravity and none of the ponies did anything to provoke them.
Here is your statement on this matter.

There is no dragon nation, and thus it cannot go to war with Equestria. Dragons were hunting ponies and... well, things escalated from there. The massive, unled hordes of dragons that attacked Equestria in the Dragon Wars really were just after riches and food; land only matters to a dragon in terms of the size of its hunting grounds, and those grounds have to be very large to support a growing dragon.

As I see it, there isn't anything pointing towards Baron Frostbite as a culprit.

The sparks of Roscherk's rage were still there, but they were nothing compared to the fire that erupted from his back in that moment. Stoikaja turned in wide-eyed surprise as the whole world danced in orange and red and black. The stallion's roar was guttural, indistinct, and defined solely by the rage of having been bested once again. The crackling of fire consumed the wall, as a literal wall of flames expanded to cover the stones of Frostbite's legacy. Bodies burned in coats that wrapped them like body bags. Roscherk could not be brought to notice as he lunged forward.

He struck Stoikaja and her flesh burned. Her hooves shattered his foreleg, but the heat in his blood concealed the pain. He ripped at her and burned her, biting and striking in a whirlwind of flames that would have cooked a lesser pony alive. Her strength and her endurance were nothing against him when his mind refused to recognize such petty concepts as pain and danger. He protected himself not by dodging or blocking, but with the sheer volume of damage he and his fires wrought upon her once-invulnerable form.

For the first time since the Dragon Wars, the snow in Stalliongrad fell black and orange.

A certain fiery wizard approvessss of Roscherk's behavior and asked me to deliver the message : He will be waiting for him down the road. They will have a great time talking about burning, and smoldering, and fire, and burning someone alive...
th07.deviantart.net/fs36/PRE/i/2008/243/7/c/The_Burning_Man__Colour_by_Firkraag81.jpg
Great amount of kudos must go to the artist of this picture, it simply is the best depiction of that character

[SolidFire]

That was a good chapter. It was nice seeing some of the past, but also rather sad. Soldier On is tough to take a fall like that, but sadly a little filly probably isn't as tough. You write Pinkie pretty damn well; I know this because she irritates the hell out of me in this story. I wanna see somepony smack her... is that bad to say? Onward to the next chapter!

~SolidFire