Evening Flames

by Nicknack

7 - Evening Flames

My desktop looked like I was losing a war against paperwork. I’d spent most of the weekend wearing my armor and in my office; the few times I’d been able to tear myself away from work I’d spent by eating, showering, and once—for a few hours on Sunday morning—sleeping.

Now it was Monday, at twelve-thirty in the afternoon, I noted with a glance at the clock and calendar on my wall. Next to them, the polished mahogany of my bookshelf betrayed the pristine order that my office usually held. Now, even my shelves had succumbed to the chaos of Friday morning—several tomes leaned over to fill the gaps left behind by procedures and records that I’d given out to sergeants.

I had an important meeting in half an hour, which still left me with some time to work on the pile of forms on my desk. Actually, it wasn’t a pile as much as it was a multi-layered lasagna of folders, envelopes, clipboards, and papers.

That metaphor just served to remind me that it’d been yesterday when I’d last eaten, so I turned my mind back to practical matters. I’d taken a shower that morning, so I was presentable enough; that was a small favor. I could have walked through the tunnel inside the city wall to get to the eastern archway, where my meeting was, but I felt it would be better to take the longer route through the city. If anything, my presence might give some comfort to the citizens of Farrington.

The longer route would take me fifteen minutes to get through the city if I walked briskly; accounting for delays, I budgeted ten more minutes in my office to work on forms. I held no illusions that I’d be able to deal with more than one matter before leaving, but even signing off that I’d read the... armory inventory report, I decided, would be a small victory.

When it was finished, I stood up, walked over to my door, and took a deep breath. As soon as I opened it and walked through, a clamor of noise and voices washed over me. I tried to walk quickly through the Sergeant’s Quarters; there were enough guards buzzing around that I thought I stood a chance to pass through without—

“Captain! Did you get my request for a schedule transfer?” Sergeant Gate asked.

I kept walking past his desk as I replied, “Yes.” Doubtlessly, the form was somewhere in my office, but knowing Gate’s officers, there was a reasonable chance of a scheduling conflict that I’d have to work out between both Sherry and Horatio. They didn’t have time to deal with whoever was unhappy with their shift.

“As soon as you approve it—”

“I understand.” By then, my neck was fully craned backwards to maintain eye contact, so I turned back around to see where I was going.

I escaped the Sergeant’s Quarters without hearing too many more requests for my time; out in the lobby, several non-guard citizens were gathered. I ignored their calls for my attention as I exited the Citadel; I was on a schedule, and there was a procedure for meeting with me—first, they’d have to fill out some forms.

On my way to the eastern gate, I found myself alone on a bright, humid summer afternoon. Away from my office and ponies vying for my attention, it was the closest thing I’d had to a break since my shower in the Citadel’s bathroom. I tried to cherish being outdoors, but there was too much pain, worry, and doubt on my mind.

As I drew nearer to the eastern gate, I remembered what it had been like on Friday afternoon, the last time I’d seen it. There had been a huge crowd had gathered inside the closed gates—a consequence of my own actions. As a precaution, I’d ordered the city to be closed; because there were guard-killing criminals still roaming free within my walls, I preferred to keep them in the city rather than setting them loose on the rest of Equestria.

Friday morning, after a glass-eyed Starfall nearly pounded down my front door to announce a catastrophe, I hadn’t had any choice but to request crisis guard aid from both Hoofington and Canterlot. They’d arrived on Friday night and Sunday morning, respectively; once the Canterlot guards showed up, I was able to post enough guards at the gates to form checkpoints to allow ponies in and out of Farrington.

Today, at the eastern gate, I found that the crowd had shrunk significantly. Now, there were only about thirty ponies waiting in a haphazard line to get clearance to leave the city. I walked past them, into the archway and the door to the spiral stairs; I tried to ignore the jeers and complaints that were thrown my way.

When I got to the top of the wall, I found a clock tower and read the time: twelve-fifty-six. I was early, so I walked to the eastern lip of the wall and stared off at the horizon. Hoofington was too far away to be visible, but I still worried about Maxie. She was safe, I told myself; in fact, she was secure enough to probably be angry with me.

I remembered how, at a little after four o’clock on Friday morning, Maxie had woken me up. She’d seen someone in our yard, walking past her window. Even after I checked outside and didn’t find anyone, she’d been too worried to go back to sleep. I’d spent the next half hour sitting with her in our living room, drinking cocoa and chatting.

After Starfall came by with a storm of bad news, I’d written my requests for guard aid and given them to my sister—along with seven hundred bits to stay in Hoofington. At first, she complained, but when I gave her the option of safety in Hoofington or within a holding cell in the Citadel, she quietly packed a few things and left.

It’d hurt to do that to her, but even as I did it, I’d told myself that I would never forgive myself if something bad happened to someone else close to me.

Tears swelled in my eyes as I remembered the other half of Starfall’s news—where he’d told me that he’d carried Gilda’s unconscious form to the hospital—but I forced them away with a hard blink and a deep, grunting breath. There wasn’t time to visit her, or even to check if she were alive; the only real way I’d learn about her condition was if a form from Farrington General happened to cross my desk.

I pushed Gilda into the back of my mind, where she’d been all weekend. I only had a few minutes before my meeting, so I used them to recap why I needed it. With everything that had happened on Friday morning, one very important detail stuck out in my mind. It led to some bigger questions, ones that I needed answers for.

Even the Equestrian Guard had been dumbfounded by the ice explosion in the Artisan District; outside of some of the older frost dragons in the world, they’d never heard of anything that could to turn an entire building into a pillar of ice. The snow in the Artisan District had long-since melted, but the fear of another such explosion had since run rampant through my city, and it still weighed heavily on my mind.

“Iron. You look like hell.”

At her voice, I turned and gave a nod to Sherry. Today was the first time we’d seen each other after the Friday morning bombing; seeing her face filled me with an uncertainty gripped my throat in a dry, painful manner.

I had questions. She had answers.

Sherry walked over to the eastern lip of the wall, next to me on my left. I took a quick glance to either side of me; the nearest officers on the wall were over fifty feet away—well out of listening range of the conversation we were about to have. That was an important precaution. I needed to ask her about her actions on Friday morning; I did not need to stir dissent amongst the ranks of my Guard.

Regardless of my questions, there wasn’t anything to gain by losing politeness. After what I hoped hadn’t been too long a silence, I replied, “It’s been a rough weekend.”

Sherry chuckled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re in for a lot of rough weekends in the foreseeable future, Iron. I can tell you what it’s like to have a power vacuum in a city’s criminal underground. Maybe you’re lucky that Red was...” She shook her head. “Did I ever tell you about the case that got me involved in Farrington in the first place?”

I shook my head and tried to hide a sad grin at her unfortunate timing; I’d always been curious about her past, even though today, it was the source of some of my doubts. I replied with a neutral, “I remember overhearing my father talking about someone from Stalliongrad, who I later realized was you, but he kept work and home separate for the most part.”

“Smart of him. Because that case? Involved the leftovers of two mid-range players in Stalliongrad’s crime scene. They’d come to Farrington to stir up business. I saw what Red did to his father’s ‘competition’ back then, let alone everything after he came to power. So maybe you’re lucky, what with how your girlfriend put most of his lieutenants behind bars.”

I looked out over the plains to the east of the city. “Lucky” wasn’t how I felt right then, but even in the wake of a catastrophe, I knew that could change in the future—if I took the correct steps in the present. Tentatively, I agreed. “Perhaps I am.”

“How’s she doing?”

I turned to Sherry, and tried to balance my own questions about her loyalties with the fact that she had been a friend to me over the past eight years. Starfall had been busy working fourteen-hour shifts and sleeping in the Citadel over the past weekend, so we had only gotten to speak once during a lunch that one of the sergeants had brought in for everyone. That hurried conversation had been about us, and how we were faring.

Effectively, this was the first time I’d been able to speak with someone about Gilda. I gave Sherry a weak grin before looking out to the east again. “She was taken to her old room in the hospital, I assume. I also assume that if she wakes up...” I trailed off, trying not to think of the alternative.

“So you haven’t—”

“When?!” I hissed as I snapped my head to her. She flinched, and guilt took some of the choler from my mind. “No, Sherry, I haven’t. I haven’t slept in three days, and I’m still falling behind on all there is to do. It... kills me, inside, but there isn’t any time to sit by her bed and hope. For all the good it will do, I can wish her well from up here.” I gestured to the wall around me.

She turned her head and eyed me from the side. “But you’ve got time to ask me up here for...”

“To ask a few questions.”

“About what?”

She’d forced my hoof, much more abruptly than I would have liked, but there was no helping it now. I replied out with the truth: “I wanted to ask about your involvement in Friday morning.”

Sherry rolled her eyes. “I already gave you my report—”

“And I’ll alert the Writer’s Guild that some new fiction has been produced.”

She snarled at me, which made me realize I’d probably gone too far in expressing my doubts.

Before she could retort, I clarified, “You know the rules, Sherry, and you play within them. I just thought maybe there was something more, perhaps even off-the-record postulation that might be of value.”

Her expression softened—steel instead of granite—and she turned around to walk to the western lip of the wall. I joined her, and the two of us looked over to the Artisan District. Despite being a warm day, a newly formed ice tower still stood about ten feet over the building that had all but been confirmed as Red Hooves’ base of operations. It would probably be a week before it thawed, at which time it would be handed over to forensic detectives.

Quietly and plainly, Sherry said, “The Lunar Loyalists don’t have that kind of weaponry, and they lost their balls after we took down their leader. It’s probably a frame.”

I nodded; we couldn’t state obvious, unsubstantiated facts on official forms, but there was absolutely no way that the Lunar Loyalists, a now-defunct terrorist cult, had coincidentally resurfaced on the same night that Red Hooves declared war on Farrington. That only raised the question: “If it’s a frame, then who put it on them?”

Sherry’s left shoulder rose and fell. “I don’t know anyone who’s got problems with the Loyalists, but maybe someone new in town wants to take out the competition before setting up his game.”

“Perhaps,” I agreed, “but why would Red go on the offensive against the Guard if he was merely protecting his own interests?”

She looked at me and shrugged again. “I don’t know. Why not ask him?”

I chuckled darkly. “He wishes to strike a plea bargain with the courts, and refuses to say anything else on the matter.”

“For himself?”

“For his sister.” I shrugged. We traded a glance and I explained, “He says he’ll confess everything and turn in his entire organization if she receives clemency for her crimes.”

Sherry scoffed. “Coward.”

“Perhaps,” I agreed again, “but until we hear his confession, none of his actions on Friday morning make any sense. He went to war against Farrington, for...” I scoffed. “Nothing. Even if his attack had been successful, he’d never be able to show his face in Farrington—or any other civilized town—ever again.”

“So why do it?”

I looked down at the line of ponies below. Most of them were business-related travelers, but I noted how four of them had carts full of personal belongings with them. I wondered how many of them would never return to Farrington.

That brought me to my working theory: “Retirement.”

“Retirement?” Sherry repeated slowly. “What, so Red’s going to find some island resort where he can skin ponies for fun all day?”

I grinned a little—not at her joke, but at the allegory that played in my mind: “No, I don’t think Red ever planned on sandy beaches. I’ve... known him, vicariously, through his correspondence in the years since my promotion. I have to say, after he lost his sister, he also lost a lot of his usual... zest. He started to get... pleading, is how I’d describe it. Depressed, even. So I think he lost someone he held dear, and since the legal channels of getting closure didn’t work for him, he settled on revenge—even if he knew full well that it couldn’t work out for him in the long run.”

By the time I finished speaking, I was staring directly at Sherry.

She glared back up at me. “If you have something you want to say...”

“What were you doing out in the streets of Farrington three hours after your shift ended?”

Her eyes glistened for a moment before she turned away. I cringed; that wasn’t how Sherry expressed sorrow. It was an act, and that knowledge gripped my chest like a vise.

Far too late, she turned back to me, and denied the truth: “I haven’t slept in years, Iron. You know that as well as I do. Everything’s in my report: I saw the fires, decided to go with non-regulation armor, and went out there to help. Then, in the fire and death in the streets, I decided to call for backup.” Her voice broke as she finished: “So do you have anything else you want to—”

I cut through her act. “Why were there Stalliongrad Mafia in my streets?”

Her expression widened in shock before she rapidly shook her head and shot back, “What?”

For the first time in my career, I was actually a step ahead of her. I hated it. “At four in the morning, Maxie woke up because someone was in our yard. Someone she recognized, from a delivery six months ago. He didn’t really try to keep it secret from her then that he was part of Cold Front’s organization.”

Sherry’s mouth dropped open, and she blinked slowly before jerking her head to the side spitting out, “Shlukya!”

It was as good as an admission of guilt; despite the empty, distant feeling I felt from the whole situation, I shook my head. “Sherry... what have you done?”

Her head slowly shook, and for a moment, I thought she was going to continue denying it. Instead, she cut back with, “Only what you didn’t have the... will to do for yourself.”

“Will?” I felt my jaw slacken. “Over thirty ponies are dead, and nearly a dozen of those were my... were your officers! And that’s not counting the civilians—”

“And all of that’s less than half the annual death toll from Red Hooves’ regular operations.”

“You can’t... justify it like that!” I shook my head; even though I’d suspected her, I still couldn’t believe—

“I absolutely can justify it like that.” She turned and pointed a hoof at me. “He took away the one thing I ever had. He screwed with my head during the court proceedings. So he wants to gut me back into what I was in Stalliongrad? He’s lucky to be standing where he is right now and not be dead!”

Her words were ice, but I kept from shivering. My fear was minute compared to the sense of betrayal I felt “Why... why now? After everything you said? How could you spend all these years helping—”

“Because I love you, you idiot!”

Both of us stood there in shocked silence for a moment after she said it. Tears—real tears—formed at the sides of her eyes, and she continued speaking in a rushed whisper: “But you don’t need that. She’s what you need, and if you keep taking her for granted...” Sherry shook her head. “Well, you’re not going to do that anymore, are you?”

I still reeled over her confession, and the way it colored all of our interactions over the past four years. Finally, I shook my head and turned back to the city in front of us. “No. No, I will not.” Sherry let out a little gust of breath next to me, which I returned as a sigh before asking her, “So what now?”

“What now?” She paused. “That’s up to you. You’re captain, so you get to make the hard call. And I don’t mean us. I mean that, if you bring up these accusations... there’s a chance they might even stick. But not just to me. To everyone. When it comes out you’ve got a bent lieutenant, that reflects poorly on your choices. And looking at this summer alone, are you willing to risk—”

“Absolutely.” I turned to her. “I took my rank of captain because I wanted to uphold the law, not because I enjoy authority.” My eyes watered as I continued, “So I’m either guaranteed to lose my conviction, or I’m at risk of losing my rank.” Tears stung my eyes. “The latter, I can live with. Sherry, you’re under arrest for co-conspiracy and murder.”

She turned to me with a weak grin, but then she crossed her front forelegs on the lip of the wall in front of her. “Okay. Arrest me, then.”

With a twinge of frustration, I realized she was going to force me to lead her through the Citadel, as a criminal, in front of everyone. I steeled myself for that, but then, there was the awkward fact that my captain’s belt didn’t have a length of rope on it. Lieutenants’ belts didn’t, either. My best bet was to call over one of the officers on the wall, so I turned away from Sh—

* * *

“Sir!”

The voice came from far away, and almost sounded as if it were being distorted through a vast expanse of water. It didn’t make any sense, as everything around me was dark. Am I drowning? That didn’t make any sense either; I could breathe, and now that I focused, I could hear the sounds of a panicked crowd beneath me.

I opened my eyes, which only led to more confusion. A blurry group of guards stood over me—my officers, I remembered—and two of them spoke again in a tense, worried unison: “Sir?”

My first response came as a single, guttural noise; I focused on finding my words for a moment before I could manage. “What... happened?”

The two pairs of officers looked at each other, then back at me. The ones on my right spoke: “Sir, Lieutenant Justice attacked you, then jumped over the eastern side of the wall.”

Sherry? I blinked a few times. The last time, my eyes opened in a hardened glare. I remembered, now, why I had been up here on this wall to begin with, how things had ended between us, and...

A flash of worry. “Is she... alive?”

The guards above me traded a glance again; this time, the pair on the left responded, “She... hit the ground in a roll, then took off galloping towards the south, towards Trottingham.”

Some of my former confusion returned, but this time, it felt more natural than induced. “We’re... almost fifty feet up!”

They didn’t have an answer for that, but then again, neither did I. It wasn’t a suicidal leap off the wall, though there had been injuries and deaths from officers falling off in the past. If she had rolled with it...

Sherry was gone.

Indignation fueled my hooves, and I pushed myself up into a standing position. Now wasn’t the time for lying around uselessly. I motioned to the pair of officers on my right. “You two, go to the Citadel and alert the leader of the Equestrian National Guard that we now have an inter-city fugitive situation.”

They looked back at me, confused. I nearly reprimanded them for their inaction, but the pair on the left spoke up first: “Sir, do you need to go to the hospital?”

I shook my head, which caused an explosion of fire and nausea behind my eyes. “Not... not right now. We’ve got more important things to do.”

From my right came, “Sir... there’s only... one of me.”

I turned back to what had previously been a pair of—admittedly identical—officers. After a few hard blinks, they overlapped and formed one stallion, but my vision swam, and it was difficult to keep them—him—like that.

I nodded at him, which caused another wave of pain. “Duly noted. You go to the Citadel.” I turned to the officer on my left. “You tell Lieutenant Horatio that I’m going to the hospital. Tell him to alert...” I racked my addled brain, weighing service records and seniority. “Sergeant... Harmon, for temporary, emergency promotion to Acting-Lieutenant.”

The pair snapped salutes before the officer on my right ran down the wall at full gallop. However, the officer on my left lingered. “Sir, do you want me to call an escort?”

I shook my head. “No, but thank you.”

He nodded, then made his way to the spiral staircase that was set into the walkway of the wall. After a moment’s hesitation, I noted that I also needed to take the stairs down to street level.

I turned to my left, and for the first time, I noted the pile of discarded lieutenant’s armor. The sight gripped my chest for a mournful moment, but I bargained with myself that I could worry about it later—at the hospital.

For all her evils, Sherry had at least given me an opportunity to follow her advice to visit Gilda.

With a hollow arch of an eyebrow, I wondered if that had been intentional. I walked away from her forsaken armor, and as I did, I made peace with how I would probably never find out.

* * *

At Farrington General, I received two pieces of good news.

The first came from my doctor, who informed me that I didn’t have a fractured skull, or any spinal damage—merely a mild concussion. He wrote me a prescription and told me to “take it easy and get some rest.”

I balanced his advice with necessity, and I agreed to take a few more hours off. Certainly, I needed to go back to the Citadel that night; at the bare minimum, I had to give my report of what had just happened on the wall, issue some nighttime orders, and sign off that I was, indeed, taking medical leave for a day.

However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Sherry’s implicit confession simplified matters. It wasn’t time for celebration just yet, but I felt I had a better understanding of the situation, which was as a good start as the situation allowed.

After I swallowed my prescription, I went up to the trauma ward of the hospital to visit all of my fallen officers—as I’d doubtlessly need to explain in my report. I started with the pony officers, as they were the ones who were awake. Their verbal reports had already been taken and filed on Saturday, but on a personal level, it felt good to tell them how their devotion to the Guard and injuries sustained in the line of duty would not soon be forgotten.

Before I went to see Gilda, I got her attending doctor’s attention. He joined me outside of her room, off to the side of the hallway. “So, uh...” My voice dropped. “How is she doing?”

“Well...” he answered. “To be entirely certain, I’m not sure how much I should tell you, what with patient confidentiality.”

I bit back my frustration. “I... what about last time?”

“Last time, Mister Bulwark, you were paying for her bills out of your own pocket. This time, it’s from the Farrington Guard’s medical budget.”

I gave him a flat look, looked down at my golden armor, and then swung my head back up to continue my glare. “I am the Farrington Guard. If you can’t tell me about her condition on a personal level, then tell me so that I can make adjustments to her schedule.”

He blinked a few times, then quickly shook his head. “Right. Sorry, the... Equestrian guards’ armor...” He shook his head again. “Anyway, she’s still unconscious, but there are some good signs. We can’t really run many tests, since we don’t know what griffin baselines usually are—” He held up a hoof. “—we’re working on it. But her heart rate and breathing are regular, and... on a good note, we’ve been noticing increased brain activity. Especially today.”

“What does that mean?”

He bobbed his head indecisively. “Well... I don’t want to say for sure, but last time this happened, she woke up within a few days.”

Relief came over me, but I locked my weak-feeling knees in place. “Awe—Excellent!”

“I mean, even if she wakes up, she’s still going to need to stay in the hospital for a few days after, for monitoring, let alone her physical injuries.” He shrugged. “Still, it doesn’t look like she’s slipping deeper into her coma.”

I nodded, trying to tone my excitement down to realistic levels. I found that I couldn’t. I compromised by asking, “May I see her?”

The doctor pointed at the door. “We close it for privacy and quiet, but it’s unlocked, and it’s visiting hours.”

We said goodbye through a pair of traded nods. After her doctor left, I pushed open the door to Gilda’s hospital room to find a sadly familiar sight.

Sunlight reflected off the beige tiles on the floor, which filled her room with bright whiteness. I closed the door behind me, which made a loud clicking noise compared to the soft beeps and whirs of a device next to her that continuously poured out a ream of paper. The room smelled... like an occupied hospital room, I reminded myself in neutral terms.

Before I sat down, I commandeered her coat rack, propping it against her bedside table to create a makeshift armor stand. I didn’t know how long I wanted to stay there, but since I didn’t need to return to the Citadel for another few hours, I thought it would be worth the extra time to take off my armor. When I was finished, I pulled up a cushion next to her bed, and I sat with her.

At first, I felt strange to be sitting there, watching her sleep. However, given what her doctor said, I consoled myself that she might wake up, and if that were the case, I could answer her questions about the events of Friday morning. If not, then my doctor had ordered me to take some rest. Even though it was selfish of me, I couldn’t think of anyone else in the city I would rather be with at that moment.

Once I got past my invasion of her privacy, I noted that I was witnessing a rare occurrence: Gilda at rest. True, she relaxed around me from time to time, but she rarely kept still; the few times she did that, I usually couldn’t see her because of our positioning—like two months ago, at the Summer Sun Festival.

Some of the feathers around her face had been displaced by the doctors’ sensors, or possibly even the attack she’d endured. I reached a hoof out and smoothed them down. After that, I moved my cushion a little closer to the bed so that I could prop an arm up on it.

When I held her hand, she smiled, and my eyes watered in joy.

Sadly, she didn’t do anything other than smile, and the beeping of her machines didn’t really change. Still, if something in her mind had been the source of some inner peace, it must have been contagious. For the first time after an excruciatingly long weekend, I felt content.

I must have stayed there for at least half an hour—I hadn’t really noted the time when I’d arrived at her room, so I tried to count backwards. My visits to the other five officers couldn’t have taken much longer than an hour, plus a half hour to see my doctor, and I’d checked in at just after one-thirty... I looked at the clock now, and it was three-forty. With a sigh, I noted that I’d have to begin putting my armor on at four, but vowed to not to dwell on that for the remaining twenty minutes.

Unfortunately, my peace with Gilda was soon interrupted by the sound of her room’s door opening. I looked over; in the doorway stood a cream-colored unicorn mare. Her long, pitch-black hair was streaked with navy blue highlights, and I could have sworn that I recognized her from somewhere. Yet, as I gave her a friendly nod, I had to admit that I my mind drew a blank.

She walked over to the opposite side of Gilda’s bed, but she didn’t sit down. Feeling the need to defend my girlfriend, I said, “Hello. I don’t recall if we’ve met before?”

She smiled back at me. “We have met, Captain Iron Bulwark, but it was very brief, and formal.”

I blinked, trying to remember the last time I had gone to a formal event; there were several throughout the year that I was expected to attend because of my rank as captain. Unfortunately, I had to admit, “I... forgive me, but I’ve forgotten your name.”

Her grin didn’t falter, but she looked away from me and down to Gilda. “In the household where I was raised, knowledge is a prized commodity.” She looked at me dead-on, and I suddenly felt tiny in her presence. “Some have eschewed that tradition, but not I.” She dipped her head quickly, motioning to Gilda. “You may call me as she calls me.”

“I...” Her answers had a way of raising more questions, which... I supposed made sense, given what she had just said about knowledge. “You know Gilda?”

“She calls me Nisht.”

That name sounded as familiar as her face was. However, I still couldn’t place it. I wondered if Gilda had brought her up in passing, some time in the past. I recalled that she was friends with a waitress at her favorite diner, and her energetic pegasus friend from Ponyville; other than those two, I honestly couldn’t remember anyone else.

The rational part of my mind doubted that Gilda would have the patience to put up with an individual who constantly spoke in evasive statements, but I kept that to myself.

“Still, it is good that you finally visited her, Captain Bulwark.”

I forced a smile and feigned as much politeness as my tired mind would allow me. “You’ll have to forgive me, Nisht, but I had a rough weekend.”

She nodded, then turned her head. Absently, she regarded the flow of paper out of Gilda’s monitoring device. “Her dreams are troubled as of late, but they grow calmer when you are with her.”

It finally clicked: Nisht was a doctor—a mage healer, to be specific. I must’ve met her at the Farrington General benefit dinner last spring, and Gilda must have encountered her during her volunteer work of telling legends to children.

Nisht closed her eyes, but rather than glowing, a light-draining aura formed around her horn. She then placed a hoof on Gilda’s forehead, and the monitor device behind her began beeping at a rapid, panicked-sounding rate. “What are you—”

She locked eyes on me and smiled. Instantly, her horn stopped channeling magic, and she put her hoof back on the floor. “She will wake soon. Your voice stirs her thoughts. Talk to her.”

Just as suddenly as she had entered the room, Nisht turned and walked back over to the entrance. Before I got a chance to say goodbye, she issued a strange request:

“When she wakes, tell her that her debt has been paid. Tell her, Nisht says that her debt has been paid. She will understand.”

I nodded. “Goodbye, Nisht. And... thank you; I’ll tell her.”

“Live through peace, Captain Bulwark.” She smiled, which stirred a deep, wondrous awe inside me. “We were happy to help.”

Moments after her strange—yet friendly—bid of farewell, she exited the room.

I was alone with Gilda again.

Talk to her. The three small words, spoken more as an order than a request, resonated in my mind. Even though I had sat in silence with Gilda for most of the past hour, truth be told, I hadn’t really thought about what I would say to her if she could hear me.

If her doctor said it could help, I figured there was nothing I could lose except time. A quick glance at the clock told me I was behind schedule, but really, I just needed to get to the Citadel before six o’clock. I could spend another half hour and still be there with an hour to spare.

I thought about what I wanted to tell Gilda, even if there was a good chance she only recognized my voice, not the words. That would make it easier to open up to her, I realized with a guilty twinge.

I brought my other arm up to the bed and held her hand between both of my hooves. Then I began:

“Hi Gilda.”

I rubbed the back of her hand, trying to think of what to say next. “I... wish I knew how to tell you how important you are in my life. I know you’ve said it a few times, especially after our fight, that I don’t readily open up, and I agree. And I’m sorry.”

My next train of thought came with a heavy breath first. “I suppose, if I had to give a reason, it would have to be because of my mother. Not that she did anything wrong... or, I suppose, anything other than the one thing.”

The memory flashed before my eyes. That afternoon, I had been excited to receive high marks on a book report. When I burst through my family’s front door, I hadn’t noticed the stillness in the air. Then, I got to our living room and saw many things I wish I hadn’t: Our sofa. An empty pill bottle. White foam.

“I was only thirteen...” I explained to Gilda, as if she would have needed it. “But she was my world, after my father died.” My eyes stung, but I fought through it. “I... I had to be strong, for Maxie. She was young, innocent...” I swallowed after the word; it felt sharp. “In the end, I suppose I destroyed that part of her.”

I shook my head. I thought of my various romantic experiences through my life: mistakes followed by even larger mistakes. Gilda didn’t need to hear about my teenage fumbling about in the mines, or a drunken, grief-filled kiss that turned to more regret.

Instead I told her, “You are not a mistake.”

Hearing my own words awoke in me a warm fire, a truth that burned like a torch in the evening. “You are one of the best things that ever happened to me. Even when things are difficult, I would rather face problems with you than find ease on my own.”

I patted her hand. “I’m not sure what that’s called, or how much a commitment there is behind what I think the word is. But I know that what I feel it is in the right direction towards it, Gilda, and even though I can’t be certain, I think I can safely say that I... I...”

---

I woke up, and around me raged Götterdämmerung—the Twilight of the Gods.

The legends didn’t do it justice. Whereas they talked about a final, cataclysmic war that would end both the reign of the gods and the mortal earth itself, they didn’t talk about, say, an army of magma golems fighting against ice skeletons in the frozen desert to the north. And that was one of the smaller, less important engagements.

The more I turned around and looked at my bearings, the more I realized where I was. Sharfkral-Grat, the home of the Sharfkral, stood directly west of a large, flat plateau. I sat in the middle of that plateau, facing north, but to my left, there was only a smashed, lava-weeping pile of melting boulders. It looked like the remains of a mountain ridge that had pissed off a god.

Speaking of gods—it was their war, anyway—I looked around and saw a lot of familiar faces. South of me, in the Jägerwald, Jäger and his Sternwolf were fighting with both arrow and fang to hold off a charging onslaught of massive serpents. To the distant west, Donar was hurling massive bolts of lightning down at Njord, who was answered each both with a volley of barbed ice-spears.

To the east, the sibling gods of love—Fricco and Frija—were busy... wrestling, was the term I was going to use. I turned away to give them privacy, despite how they were doing it right out in the open.

As soon as I did, the stone beneath my feet shook with terrible, explosive force. I ducked down, trying not to get crushed, and I became very aware that I wasn’t a match for anything I had seen in the past thirty seconds.

That instinct cued me into one important question that had apparently slipped my mind: Was I dead? I remembered waking up, but before that... I blinked. If I were “dead,” I couldn’t remember ever being “alive.”

My newly found ignorance took secondary importance to the fact that now, on opposite sides of the plateau, the two war gods circled each other—and there I was, in the middle of them. If I wasn’t dead already, I was very soon going to be.

“COWARD!” Ziu’s rage cut with the cold fury of a blizzard. I had heard his voice before, but I remembered the rage usually being directed at me. “She is mine!”

She? I looked down. White feathers on my chest, covered in a stripe of Loyalty’s blood, and below that...

“If you want her,” Ing taunted, “come take her!”

Ing’s voice was incredibly familiar, but it was strange, so I turned to him. A verdant aura of green light flowed around him, which made sense; he was devoted to Jord, the goddess of life and creation. Other than Jord’s blessing, Ing carried a massive shield, made of dark wood, but even I knew that no weapon could shatter it.

A disgusted scoff from Ziu clued me back into their fight. A fight over me, I realized, which was probably worse than a fight that I happened to be in the middle of—I could escape the latter.

The war gods continued circling me; Ziu, wreathed in ice-cold darkness and demands of strength, alternated his glare between Ing and me. He was sizing both of us up, and I looked down at my hands. My right one was slightly deformed; the talons were only half-grown, and a gnarled scar tore through my palm. It hurt to make a fist, but if I had been brought into a fight, then I wasn’t going to die without one.

My father hadn’t raised a coward, after all.

I blinked back to that memory, or how I couldn’t remember having a father, but Ziu interrupted: “Foolish wretch! You seek to betray me? I will unmake you!”

“She is not beholden to you!” came Ing’s steeled, defensive voice.

“Lies!”

Ziu pounced at me, I got ready to dodge, but Ing met him in midair. I leaped away from them as they fell, twisting and battling, to the plateau. They landed where I had been moments before. After several traded blows, Ing delivered a well-placed kick, and they separated. Ing then raised his shield, preparing for the next attack.

Ziu stood up, and with a hiss, he commanded the air around him. It answered by forming a shimmering, flickering blade of ice, wind, and death. He gripped it, and with a mighty leap, Ziu brought his weapon down on Ing. Ing raised his shield in preparation.

When sword met shield, an immense, white-hot light flashed out from it and encompassed me. I turned away, but the sound and heat of the explosion washed over me, and for a moment, I thought I would either be crushed or burned into dust.

It ended in time for me to glance back at the fight. Ziu fought madly, swinging frenzied attacks with his blade. Ing dodged each and every one of them, but he steadily lost ground as he was forced to retreat, almost to the lip of the plateau...

Then, an arrow struck Ziu in back of the neck. A killing blow, I would have thought, but Ziu didn’t seem to notice. He turned around in time to catch two more to the chest. I looked to see where they were coming from; above us, Jäger readied a fourth shot.

“Insolent CHILD!” My attention snapped back to Ziu at the sound of his voice. His cold fury froze his feathers into blades of ice, and several clattered to the ground as he flapped them, taking off in pursuit of Jäger. The hunter-turned-god was more nimble than Ziu, and he paced his retreating flight with well-placed arrows as the pair of them darted off to the south.

Behind me, Ing chuckled. I turned, trembling as I suddenly realized he and I were alone. Sure, he had just finished defending me, but that could be for any number of reasons—the least of which being that he wanted to kill me.

“Be at peace, child. Had Wodan wanted you dead, you would already be dead.”

That was... a small comfort. “So... I’m not dead? What is this, then?”

Ing smiled, and as he drew nearer, I realized I was less than half his height. He looked down to keep eye contact as he said,“What this is and where we are... these things do not yet matter. What does matter is that you remember who you are. Where this used to be.”

I looked back down to my chest, to the blood on my feathers. That had come from a betrayal I had committed, but the wounds beneath them, those had come from...

The world around me shifted, growing brighter and clearer. I was home, at Sharfkral-Grat, but it wasn’t my home any longer. That was in a city far to the south, one I had sworn to defend. And in that defense, I remembered everything I’d encountered: explosions, fighting, and death.

“It is good you remember, daughter of the Sharfkral. Had you lost yourself, your mind would have never been reclaimed. And your hour of importance has not yet arrived.”

His words were as foreign as they were confusing, but I could swear his voice was familiar. Still, what—not how—he spoke of was the one I wondered more about. “‘Hour of importance?’”

“That is a matter for another time. For now...” Ing walked around to my right-hand side and grabbed ahold of my hand.

Ing began muttering; the words sounded hazy and far away, but they were spoken in Equestrian. Instantly, I recognized his voice; I just couldn’t make out what he was saying.

His speech grew louder and closer; at the very end, he looked directly into my eyes and spoke one final syllable:

“View.”

I opened my eyes, and around me, everything was blindingly bright—except for Iron’s shocked expression of disbelief that looked over me.

Before I could ask, his eyes lit up to match his warm smile. At the same time, I noticed his hooves were holding my hand. All he said was a soft, glowing, “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said back. It hurt to talk because my throat was so dry. That pain cued me into the rest of my body, where suddenly, everything erupted in a dull throb of fuzzy pain. I remembered getting the crap beaten out of me—especially the back of my head, which was surprisingly not as painful as I thought it would be. That made me curious: “Wh... what time is it?”

Iron grinned. “It is Monday, the twenty-first of August, around a quarter after four.”

With an annoyed sigh, I remembered how it had been Friday when I last remembered... anything. I hated how I kept falling unconscious in hospitals and quickly jumping forward in time. Then I remembered who was responsible: “What happened to Red Hooves?”

“He’s in prison.” Iron rubbed the back of my hand. “It came with a heavy price, but we won the night, thanks to you.”

When he mentioned the heavy price, I remembered Sunset, right before the explosions. If the arrows hadn’t gotten her, the fire must’ve...

My eyes watered, and I raised my left arm, reaching over to Iron. Slowly, delicately, he leaned forward and wove himself into an embrace with me. It was firm, but not tight enough to hurt, and it was exactly what I needed as I cried into his neck.

He rubbed my side, consolingly. Into my ear, he whispered, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I snuggled into his neck a little more, but I couldn’t find any words other than, “Thanks.”

We stayed like that for a while, locked into an embrace. It came to an end when he said, “I... have some other things to attend to today. I’m sorry, Gilda.”

I loosened my grip on him, and he let me go. I repositioned myself on my bed and said, “It’s okay.”

He started putting his armor on, which he’d... put on a coat rack, leaned up against my dresser. I smiled at his diligence and care for his armor; I usually left mine... I looked around the room. “Hey, where’s my armor?”

Iron buckled the first strap of his chestplate before answering, “That farrier’s apprentice stopped by the Citadel, on Saturday. He expressed his apologies, and then vowed to further improve your armor to be ‘bolt-proof.’ I’ll keep it in the armory when he finishes with it.”

My wing still hurt from getting shot, so I couldn’t exactly complain about that—other than how we were already square on the whole armor deal. Still, I’d find some way to make it up to him; it wasn’t like I wasn’t sitting on over a thousand bits back at my cave.

Once Iron was wearing his captain’s armor again, he stood back over the side of my bed. “Goodbye. I’ll try to come by later tonight, but if not, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I craned my neck forward a little, and he bent back down to kiss the tip of my beak. I smiled, then set my head back down as Iron walked away.

When he got to the door, Iron turned to me. “Oh, yes. One of your acquaintances stopped by earlier...” His eyes darted off to the side as he recollected. “She said your debt was cleared, and that you would understand what she meant. Her name was Nicht.”

My eyes darted wide. Nicht was... well, from what Dash had told me, she’d just been released from the moon last year. She still held her position in the griffin pantheon, just like her sister, so I felt honored, I guessed, to have been visited by her—though I didn’t know where Iron got “acquaintance” from. I’d worry him over it later, though.

As for what she’d said, I guessed “my debt” had something to do with either my weird dream, or with my quick, desperate prayer to the constellation of Ziu. Either way, it was cleared, so I nodded at Iron. “Uh... cool.”

He nodded back, and I noted that he was being oddly nonchalant for having just spoken to a goddess. Then again, ponies were ruled in a fairly personal manner by her and her murderess of a sister, so it made sense that Iron was a lot more familiar with her than I’d ever be.

Iron walked out my door, which left me alone with my thoughts. I didn’t exactly feel lonely; I felt more...

I pushed the button by my bed to call a nurse. I needed to hit the bathroom, but I didn’t want to move out of the bed until I’d been detached from everything. Once I got that situation taken care of, I told myself, I’d have all the time in the world to think about everything that had happened to me in the past few days.

I didn’t know if I was looking forward to it.

* * *

I spent most of Monday night busy being prodded and poked by some medical doofus who didn’t have any idea how to treat a griffin—he told me as much, anyway. He finally left me alone at seven o’clock, which let me eat my lukewarm dinner and wonder if Iron had gotten held up at the Citadel.

True to his word, Iron stopped by my room early Tuesday morning with an apology muffin. Now that my coma was wearing off, I noticed that he’d seen better days; bloodshot, baggy eyes didn’t really suit him.

He tried to apologize for not coming on Monday evening, but when I asked why, he admitted that he’d fallen asleep in his office. I felt sorry for him and how rough he’d obviously had it since Friday; I couldn’t blame him for wanting some sleep.

Other than Iron, I had a few visitors from the Guard. Tuesday afternoon, Sergeant Scales came by with a large-lettered “GET WELL SOON” card. I glared at it for a few moments before chuckling; he’d made sure I could read it, at least. After the personal side of things was over, he brought out a clipboard and interviewed me to get my side of the story; I told him everything that I could remember.

Some of the other guards from the floor we were all on stopped by to chat. I got a decent amount of practice for retelling my story of “what happened,” which at least made it easier to get through talking about what had happened. About who had died.

Sunset occupied a lot of my alone-time thoughts—including my dreams. I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that there was more I could have done for her, or that since I was Red Hooves’ target, it was my fault that she died.

My stupid brain kept replaying that image, too, over and over: her last, desperate glance at me, hoping that I could do something. Every time, I remembered how I’d stood there, lamely, and I hadn’t done anything to try.

The more I fixated on her, the more I wondered about why I cared so much. It was dumb, I told myself, for me to be that attached to someone I’d known for all of a week—less than that, even. But no matter how many times I tried to put her out of my mind, she kept coming back. Finally, I was able to convince myself that it was because I was restless from being cooped up in a hospital room for so long; it helped a little.

I got to test that theory on Wednesday afternoon, when I got a visit from a little group of foals and their caretaker. The six of them—minus the nurse—all climbed onto my bed with me, and they decided that it was their turn to tell me some stories. I sat through a few hours of “Superpony” and “Batmare,” woven into half-baked stories that often times didn’t go anywhere in particular.

I loved every minute of it, and that feeling stayed with me for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Thursday morning at seven-thirty, Iron came by for his usual pre-shift visit. During it, he very cautiously and slowly brought up the topic of my officer shift. Since I still felt a little dizzy and sluggish whenever I walked the ten feet to my bathroom, I told Iron “not yet.” A quick nod was the only other thing he said on the matter.

When Iron left at seven-fifty, just like every time he left, I surrendered myself to the notion of a long, boring morning until lunch. The Farrington Times was a stupid newspaper written by bigots, and public visiting hours weren’t until one o’clock, so my number one form of entertainment was tracing routes in the square paths between the one hundred and twenty-seven tiles in my ceiling.

At just after eight o’clock, my door opened. I looked over to see who it was, and there stood a slightly-unkempt Starfall, wearing his officer’s armor. “What’s up, Hotshot?”

I blinked at him, and before I could get annoyed at a new nickname, curiosity took over: “What happened to ‘Sharptalon?’”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a preference?”

I glared back.

Starfall walked over to the side of my bed. “Word about your ‘incapacitating shot’ to Red Hooves got out...” He glared, slightly. “Don’t do that, by the way.”

“I was aiming for his leg...”

“And you hit one.” Starfall’s glare broke into a grin. “So, Hotshot. Or maybe Eagle Eye...”

I kept glaring at him for a moment before admitting, “Just when I thought ‘Sharptalon’ was annoying...”

He nodded knowingly. “‘Sharptalon’ it is, then.”

I took a deep breath before cutting out a flat “Thanks. Arschloch.”

“One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me what that means.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Are we even patrol partners anymore?”

He rolled his head in a half-nod, half-shake. “I don’t think even Iron knows that one. Things are pretty crazy in the Guard right now, with all the temporary replacements, council audits, investigations...”

“Investigations?”

Starfall blinked. “Iron didn’t tell you about how Lieutenant Justice left?”

I shook my head.

“Well, how she left was by assaulting him after admitting that Friday morning was her attempt to start a gang war for... fun, I guess.”

I stared at Starfall for a few moments after he said it. “That... that part wasn’t on my exam, but I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to leave.”

“Oh... Hell no.” He shook his head. “She’s being hunted down, Equestria’s most wanted, that whole deal.” He pointed a hoof at me. “Rumor has it even your country, out east, wants a piece of the action. Apparently, word got leaked that she used you as bait.”

It wasn’t worth it to correct him about where I came from; I was still taken aback at the whole thing. Then, I remembered how she’d given me a little sneer, Thursday night, right after sending me and Sunset into the Artisan District.

For all I cared, Erntving could have her.

Starfall shrugged. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to tell you about her drunk-assed bullshit. I came to ask, uh... how you’re doing.”

I returned his shrug. “I’m in the hospital. So... not my best day ever.”

He chuckled, lightly, before his tone turned somber and low. “I meant, how are you taking everything?” I turned an annoyed palm up at his phrasing, and he clarified. “Look. Iron said you’ve mentioned your partner from last week a few times.” Before I could defend myself, he continued, “And I think it’s cool. Well, er, cool you... uh... feel bad about it...”

I glared at him while he put a hoof to his mouth and actually thought before talking.

“I know what you’re going through. Survivor’s guilt. I’ve been there before, and...” Starfall turned to the window, and his ears flipped back. “I’m there now, I guess.” He shrugged. “It’s not fun, but it’s a normal part of things when someone dies.”

I raised an eyebrow and mulled over the words. More importantly, I thought about the opportunity of having Starfall there—a slightly-better-than-neutral party, and someone who’d been there. Plus, he was only an officer at that point; Iron had asked about some of the same things, but I didn’t want to throw it on top of all his other stuff. Given how he’d done the same about all the stuff with Sherry, I didn’t feel too guilty about it, either.

“It sucks,” I agreed.

Starfall’s ears perked up, and he looked over to me. “That it does. And that’s why I’m here now, on my day off—”

“Day off? It’s Thursday...”

He laughed. “Yeah, uh... Guard regulations have something against officers working five fourteen-hour shifts in a row, or something. Which... I am going to be an officer for a very long time now...” He stared off at the wall behind me. “But whatever. They needed me, and it’s not like there’s any difference between an empty bed and a Citadel bunk...

“Anyway...” Starfall’s eyes flared open as he continued. He pointed a hoof at me. “Can you survive a walk to the north end of town?”

“I... maybe? Why?”

“This morning’s the funeral service for everyone... or at least, all the guards who died last Friday. So, maybe, you want to go with me? Iron says you’re better off not going, but I don’t think he’s had twenty uninterrupted minutes of thought since... well, since Friday. That’s not to say he isn’t working with your best interest in mind, but that ‘autopilot Iron’ plays things way too safe for their own good.”

That was a scarily accurate way of putting it, but then again, they’d been friends for a decade.

After I got done dwelling on that little nugget of Iron’s psychology, I thought about Starfall’s proposal. Did I want to go to a funeral? My gut reaction was that no, I didn’t. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized Starfall was here in his own brand of a friendly capacity—and he did know about the whole process.

I nodded.

Starfall’s eyes lit up in a relieved smile. I returned a weak grin; then I realized he hadn’t necessarily come here only for my best interest.

After I had agreed, there came an awkward wait where he was standing over me and I needed to get out of bed. A few moments of silence later, I narrowed my eyes. “What, are you going to stand and watch me get out of bed?”

“I... Wh...” His mouth flapped shut. “I’ll go out to the hallway.”

He turned and did just that. Once he was gone, I threw off my sheets and got out of bed—not really a private affair, but one that I didn’t want him standing over and watching, either.

I walked into my bathroom and checked myself out in the mirror; I’d showered last night, but pillows and sheets had taken the edge off that. I didn’t want to make Starfall wait for me to take another one, so I compromised by smoothing out as many of my bed-ruffled feathers as I could manage.

When I was as good as I was gonna get, I walked out and met Starfall in the hallway. I took a quick look at my neighbors’ rooms and asked, “What about the other guys?”

“They’ve either been released from the hospital, or they’re at the cemetery already.” He lightly tilted his head to the side. “Farrington Guard. We look out for our own.”

I glared at him. “Didn’t you stab me last month? And what about Sherry?”

He shrugged. “Okay. Your lieutenants all have a history of sucking. But the rest of the Guard... doesn’t.”

I remembered the weeks after our duel, when practically everyone had turned against me. Then again, if Starfall were telling the truth, a fight between two guards would force everyone to take a side—and they sided with the one who’d been there longer. I supposed I could agree, even if I hadn’t really seen the good end of it before.

We started walking off the floor, but we got stopped by one of the nurses. “Excuse me! Where are you taking—”

She stopped to trade a glare with Starfall. I looked back and forth between the two of them, and finally Starfall grinned maliciously. “I’m borrowing her for an hour. I’ll bring her back, just, there’s stuff she needs to do outside.”

The nurse turned to me, and I nodded. “Yeah, sort of what he said, minus the asshole bits.”

“This completely violates hospital rules and regulations!”

“Why don’t you go find a supply closet and violate your rules?” Starfall muttered.

“Excuse me?” she spat through clenched teeth.

“You’re excused!” He replied in a loud, authoritative tone. Some of the other ponies on the floor turned to watch us, and the nurse’s rage turned into shock.

Before she could say anything, Starfall turned and walked away. I wasn’t sure what to think of the situation, so I turned and followed him. By the time I heard a “Hey!” of complaint behind us, we were almost to the double doors that led out of the trauma ward.

When we got down to the lobby, I finally asked, “What was that all about?”

Starfall chuckled. “Do you like to combine personal victories with practical matters?”

I nodded, which turned out to be a mistake, so I slowed down for a few steps.

He kept his pace the same as mine, so Starfall was still next to me when he continued explaining, “It takes a special kind of evil to be constantly cheery in a manner that makes someone thoroughly miserable. But also, if I’d let her keep talking, she’d try to walk us through the whole ‘get a pass to leave the hospital’ deal, which would need a doctor’s approval, which would probably take us until nine—and the funeral’s at eight-thirty.”

I shot a glance at the clock as we were leaving. “That’s in three minutes.”

“I know. We’re already running late without her help.”

I fought to keep my head straight as I chuckled. “Tactical assholery. Only you.”

“Only me.”

Our walk to the cemetery was a quiet, slow ordeal—made all the worse because I had to walk on my palms. The sun was bright and hot, and the sticky humidity wore me out before I’d even gone a block. After a grand total of a minute, I began to wonder if I’d make it outside the city.

Starfall dipped around me, onto my left side. Before I could ask what he was doing, he grabbed my left arm and draped it over his neck. It squished us together, so walking like that was awkward, but it was a lot less strain on my other three limbs. “Thanks...” I muttered.

He grunted to accept it. “You’re lighter than you look.”

I seethed a sigh off into the distance, but I decided he meant it as an offhanded comment, not an insult.

Farrington’s cemetery was actually about a hundred yards north of the city. A thin, wrought-iron fence ran around the entire perimeter of the vast field it took up, and inside lay rows upon rows of grave markers of various sizes. A few were carved into symbols of their residents’ former occupations: some were shaped like shields, while others looked like pickaxes.

The whole place marked a whole city’s history—ponies who’d lived and died to make it what it was today.

It was creepy. Back in my tribe, we burned our dead and took the remaining ashes—both wood and griffin ashes—to the Jägerwald. We wrote histories to remind us of who had passed; we didn’t make huge fields of symbolic reminders placed over rotting corpses.

I tuned that thought out, though. This was Equestria, this was their dead, so I’d let them choose how to deal with them.

Before Starfall and I walked through the gates, I could already see the huge gathering of ponies who were in the middle of the ceremony. Iron, wearing his golden armor, stood behind a podium, in front of a row of caskets, and he faced the crowd. I saw his lips moving, but we were too far away for me to hear him.

Starfall and I made our way to the crowd, and before we came to a stop, I could make out some of the eulogy:

“—and that together, we will band together in strength—their strength—and carry on, to live by their shining example of ultimate courage.”

Captain Bulwark spent the next ten minutes talking about the fallen guards’ honor and loyalty to their duties. He kept bringing it back to the importance of unity, and how, despite our differences, all citizens of Farrington were capable of coming together to get through harsh times.

Seeing how I spent Iron’s whole speech being held up by Starfall, I had to agree.

When he finished speaking, a trumpet blared out a loud, solemn tune. The brass notes signaled something final, an end, and around me, several ponies started crying. Next to me, I saw that Starfall was on the verge himself. I patted him a few times on the shoulder, and he silently nodded his appreciation.

After the service, the crowd dissipated. A large part of them were guards, who probably had to get back into the city for their patrols. That left the civilians—friends and families of the fallen guards.

“Come on...” Starfall nudged me, and together we headed over to the row of caskets behind Iron’s podium. Starfall steered me towards the one that was second from the left, but even before we got to it, I saw Sunset’s portrait beneath it.

There was a small group near her casket, but they made room for us to walk past. We came to a stop five feet away from her casket, where Starfall finally set me down. Then he stepped away to give me some time alone with Sunset.

I didn’t know what to think. The whole thing seemed so unfair—she’d been killed for walking next to me, but there wasn’t any warning, any pre-battle parley.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. It was the only thing I could say.

It made me feel a little better.

A few minutes later, Iron showed up on my right. In a low whisper, he apologized: “I didn’t intend to keep you from attending...”

I shook my head. It made me dizzy. “Starfall had to carry me here; I couldn’t have made it alone.”

Iron put a hoof around my shoulder, and I nestled into him in reply. After a few moments, he said, “That’s what friends are for.”

After mulling it over, I agreed. “Yeah.”

Iron and I didn’t spend much more time in front of Sunset’s casket; she had other friends and family that were closer, ponies that deserved to say some final goodbyes. When it was time, Iron picked me up, and the two of us moved over to make room for everyone else.

As the two of us walked together, I found myself being filled with a growing sense of inner peace.

Comments

[Forevermore]

Absolutely wonderful. Though I'm rather surprised Red Hooves survived getting shot in the dick/balls, figured he would've bled out.

[Poptard]

2622189
He survived in the original version. Besides, a groin attack is funnier when you're forced to survive it.

[KeePony]

I guessed it was a goddess visiting Gilda. I just didn't understand it was Luna for a few minutes. Till I remembered Nicht is german for Night.

[gildedkitten]

2622300 IIRC, 'nacht' is German for 'night'; 'Nicht' just means 'not'.

[quilly]

I should read Heart of Gold at some point, because now I'm really curious about the relationship between this Nisht and Luna. Interesting that griffins have a much darker view of Celestia, too.

Sherry was in love with Iron? That doesn't really ring true to me--she doesn't at all seem the sort to hide something like that. Even though I guess she's gone, I wish we could have another segment from her perspective.

also AHHH it's done! I'll save congratulations for the end, but great work so far.

[Kagitaar]

2622378

You are indeed correct. The spelling threw me at first too, but then I realized he was spelling phonetically for Iron; Low German pronunciation always bugs me.

[X12]

Anyone else went to youtube and played TAPS during the funeral scene?

[Dan]

2635465

Nope.

[Snowstreak]

...inner peace...

You got it, Master Shifu...

[Tricky-Step]

If I'm not mistaken, I believe it was right after the battle that the story was left in its G-doc form. Its been a long time since I read that version, but I do remember some of the cut content, like Gilda's dream about her family, and other scenes being shifted around. Also, I haven't read past this part yet, but is Gilda's letter from her Father still in this story? Also, I saw that you cut out her seeing another griffon near the Jagerwald--I believe that griffon was delivering griffon artifacts to Iron.

A few chapters back Starfall mentioned to Gilda something about griffons from the east, in which Gilda replied, "can't all equestrians do magic?" (paraphrased). I am wondering now if Starfall was mentioning how some griffons from the east were radically different than the northern griffons, and that reminded me of Gustav La Grand. How would a "French" baking griffon fit into this story?

So now I'm on my way to finally finishing this story. I took the time to reread Heart of Gold, Summer Days, and now the conclusion of Evening Flames. Right now, it feels like I could read much more about your take on Gilda. In the last two chapters, I don't think she's going to visit Dash again to apologize to everyone. And it seems like her relation to her family is ever going to be, estranged. Her banishment still being intact is a bit depressing. That's not terrible, but it will leave me feeling for wanting more. (still, I haven't read the last two chapters yet). I am kinda wrapping up my experience of this story because I am crossing over into the newest material and events in these two remaining chapters to go. One last thing for this comment, I'm glad Sherry went down. I never liked her, but that doesn't mean she was written badly. She had her reasons and such, but I was more put off by how she was jerking around Gilda earlier in the story.

So, I think I know where this story is going for the last two chapters. It was quite a ride, and now its almost over

[Mocha Star]

😭 this chapter...

[TheClassyLeviathan]

I've come to this conclusion several times over the course of this story and its predecessors, each time I was pulled back from a final judgment by the sympathy you and your brilliant writing gave me. But this settles it, Sherry, despite all the good she's done, is a tragic character. Not because of the hardships she's faced, not because of her unhappiness, or her unrequited love. But because she is, in essence, a moral coward, and that in my opinion is quite possibly the worst kind.