Teenage Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake are fighting on opposite sides of a civil war in Equestria. Now completed.
Now completed! (Comments may contain unmarked spoilers.)
A decade after Princess Celestia dies and names Twilight Sparkle her successor, Equestria splits along racial and partisan lines. Equestria's cities have declared independence and are at war.
The conflict engulfs Ponyville. Teenage Pound and Pumpkin Cake team up, using their talents of flight and magic to protect their loved ones. But the twins later join polar opposite factions of the war, and now their rivalry risks plunging all of Equestria into ruin...
The story complies with season 1-3 canon, but differs from the comics and season 4 onward.
February, seven years after Twilight Sparkle’s princess coronation
A thousand hoofbeats thundered in unison on a dirt road. The unicorn army marched down the mountains, past the city limits of Canterlot, and into the foothills below. Their stomping scattered dust all around, which the wind gusts blew away. As the army walked, unicorns living in nearby houses ran out to the road to cheer them on. Mares held up children in their magic so they could get a better view. Stallions waved their hats in the air.
The soldiers kept their stony gazes despite the fanfare, staring straight ahead and levitating their assault rifles in front of them with their magic. The barrels and bayonets of their guns glinted in the morning sun. The soldiers wore forest green camouflage slacks and wooly hats to shield their ears from the cold. Tan saddlebags sat on their backs, packed with ammunition, canteens, and rations.
The army approached the fence on the border between the Second Kingdom and Equestria. It was a tall, steel fence with rusty barbed wire atop it. The road met a double gate, where a single border station sat: a small, white hut surrounded by bushes, with a single observation window. Atop the station, the red and white flag of the Second Kingdom flew alongside the sky blue flag of Equestria. An earth stallion stood inside.
The pony gazed outside, and his eyes widened as he saw the approaching army. He grabbed his gun and rushed out the door, standing in the middle of the road.
“Halt! You are entering Equestrian territory!” the border guard yelled, pointing his gun towards the army.
The army continued, undeterred, as they closed in on the fence.
The guard quaked in his horseshoes, his gun trembling. “Don’t approach any further, or I’ll shoot!”
A charcoal grey-coated unicorn officer at the front of the battalion turned around and barked, “Halt!” The troops came to a standstill.
The border guard still stood as the moments passed. The general pointed his hoof at two soldiers at the front of the line. One of the soldiers raised his own rifle, and he opened fire on the border guard. There was a single loud bang and a shout as the guard fell to the ground, crying out.
The other soldier walked over to the station and tore down the Equestrian flag with his magic, leaving only the Second Kingdom’s. The shooter’s horn lit up as he tossed the body out of the road and threw it into the bushes to the side. A third unicorn swung open the gates.
“Forward march!” the general barked.
The battalion continued along the path, crossing the border into Equestria.
The town of Ponyville wasn’t so small anymore. In the years since Princess Twilight’s coronation, it has blossomed into a mid-sized town with several thousand residents. New concrete office complexes had been built near downtown. Construction crews were busy putting in yet another subdivision near the outskirts, full of brick ranchers with shingled roofs and white picket fences. A second Rich’s Barnyard Bargains had gone up on the south end, across the river.
But much in Ponyville remained the same. Most of the roads were still dirt or grass, with only a few of them paved. Many of the familiar downtown landmarks hadn’t changed at all. Sugarcube Corner, Carousel Boutique, and the town hall were as bustling as they always had been. Winter Wrap-Up, which would be in a few weeks, would still be done without magic, and everypony in town would still pitch in.
That morning, Princess Twilight Sparkle and Spike stood in the lobby of the new town library. Twilight levitated two packed saddlebags towards the door, then turned to her assistant.
“Spike, take a letter,” she said.
Spike retrieved a quill and parchment as Twilight dictated, “Dear Princess Luna. I’ve just finished up my vacation to Ponyville. I had a great time catching up with my friends and relaxing. I will be returning to the Manehattan Palace later this evening to continue with my royal duties. Sincerely, Twilight Sparkle.”
Spike finished jotting down the letter.
“Done!” he announced, as he breathed green fire on it.
“Good,” said Twilight. “Now, let’s return to Manehattan. We have a five hour long trip ahead of us.”
Spike frowned. “Aw, come on, Twilight! Can’t we stay in Ponyville a bit longer? We’ve only been here a few days, and I haven’t even gotten to catch up with Zecora yet!”
She shook her head. “Sorry, Spike, but duty calls.”
Twilight loaded the saddlebags on her back as she and Spike walked out the front door. As they stepped outside, loud bangs echoed off in the distance.
Spike’s ears shot up as he glanced around. “What was that?”
Twilight’s pupils dilated. She paused for a moment, and then the sound repeated.
“It sounds like gunfire,” she said. “Stay in the library and lock the door. I’ll be right back.”
After Twilight put her bags back inside the library, she took off straight up into the air. When she was high enough to have a good view of Ponyville and all of its suburbs, her heart skipped a beat. The Second Kingdom battalion was fast approaching on the road to Ponyville. Their red and white flag fluttered in the breeze, clear even from a distance. The first few columns had already made their way into the town, fanning out in all directions.
Twilight dropped back to the ground. Ponies frantically ran around in the streets as sirens blared. Police carts and paddy wagons rushed down the road. Officers poured out, parking the vehicles as makeshift barricades on the street about ten meters away from Twilight, as they fanned out into the streets.
A policemare shouted through a megaphone, “Everypony get indoors!”
Another police officer approached Twilight. He was a portly stallion, and had a chief’s shield on his uniform.
“Princess Twilight!” the chief said, removing his cap and giving a quick bow. “These soldiers have come into town and shot every police officer they’ve seen! I’ve lost five of my guys already. We’re trying to hold them off on the edge of town, but we’re just police; we aren’t equipped to fight an army. Most of my officers just carry pepper spray and batons on patrol. I’ve ordered them all back to the station to get their guns, but we’re just police, not the army.”
Yet more gunshots rang out. Twilight glanced north up the street. A white flash erupted, and three unicorn soldiers teleported into the road. They aimed their rifles at the police and sprayed the vehicles with bullets, their machine guns rattling as bullet casings clinked to the pavement below.
The policemare with the megaphone dropped it, and got out a hoofgun from a holster around her waist. She ducked for cover behind the paddy wagon, leaning over the side and firing shots off at the unicorns. One of them fell to the ground, crying out in pain as he thumped to the ground. The fallen unicorn’s comrade reached into a saddlebag and pulled something out.
“Grenade!” the policemare shouted.
Twilight Sparkle extended a forcefield around herself and the chief, just as the grenade exploded next to the barricade, knocking the police vehicles back and setting them ablaze as they crashed into the ground. Thick, black smoke poured from the destroyed vehicles as the policemare outside the forcefield fell.
Twilight lowered the forcefield and sent a surge of purple magical energy towards the two remaining soldiers, scoring direct hits. They dropped to the ground, their clothes and fur going up in flames, acrid smoke pouring out as they rolled around in panic, trying to douse the fire.
Twilight turned to the chief. “Hold the invaders off the best you can. I’m going to get reinforcements at once!”
“Yes, Princess,” said the chief.
Twilight returned to the library, teleporting across the room to where Spike sat, next to a window, catching his attention with the flash. He jolted up.
“Who are those ponies out in the street?” he asked, his eyes widening. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Yes, take another letter!”
Spike obliged and got out a quill and parchment.
“Dear Princess… Wait, never mind, just skip the greeting. The Second Kingdom has invaded Equestria, and they’re in Ponyville! Send reinforcements!”
Spike madly scribbled the note, breathed fire on the parchment, and sent it.
He asked, “They broke the peace treaty? Seriously?”
Twilight nodded. “Yes, and they’ll overrun the entire town in a matter of hours, maybe sooner. We have to go to Cloudsdale and get some pegasi to help us. Air superiority is the only way Ponyville can last until General Spitfire comes with reinforcements. Come on, let’s go get Rainbow Dash and the others! Hurry!”
Twilight grabbed Spike with her magic, placed him on her back, and flew off into the air.
The sun had just reached its apex in the sky when Pinkie Pie rushed out the front door of Sugarcube Corner.
“Bye guys national emergency I gotta meet with Twilight and stuff see ya later!” she shouted, running down the street in a pink blur. The police had erected barricades and piled sandbags all around downtown Ponyville, and Sugarcube Corner was still behind the police lines, but the unicorn troops were quickly advancing.
Mr. Carrot Cake turned to his wife, his eyes narrowed. “I’ve got to go help defend the town.”
He reached under the counter behind the cash register to retrieve a hidden shotgun. With the increase in size of Ponyville over the years, there had been an increase in crime, and he kept the gun as a deterrent to thieves.
“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Cup Cake cried, putting her hoof against the gun. “Don’t be a fool, dearie. They’re a trained army, not some robbers. You’ll be killed! What about the kids?”
She pointed to nine-year-old twins, who sat in the living room, crouched under a table.
“What’s going on? Mommy? Daddy?” asked Pumpkin.
“I wanna go help, too!” Pound shouted, eyeing his father’s shotgun.
“We’re going to hide in the storm cellar. Come on, kids, let’s go,” said Mrs. Cake, walking over to them as she ushered them out the back door.
“You too, Carrot,” she said, looking back at her husband and motioning for him to follow. He sighed, but obliged, running over to them.
“Get some food; we might be staying down there a while,” she said.
Mr. Cake grabbed a box full of fresh pastries from the kitchen. The Cakes rushed outside and over to the cellar door, while shots and explosions rang out in the distance. The army was getting closer.
Mrs. Cake reached into her apron and got out the key, nervously fumbling with it as she unlocked the padlock on the cellar door. The family piled in, and Mrs. Cake closed the door behind them.
The cellar was dark, cramped, and musty. The floor was dirt, and the ceiling was just barely tall enough for Mr. and Mrs. Cake to stand up without bumping their heads. Cardboard boxes, sacks of flour, crates of fruit, and old junk sat piled up around the sides of the walls.
Mr. Cake set his pastries and shotgun down on the ground, and then rummaged through an old box, feeling around with his hooves until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a small candlestick and a box of matches, and lit the candle, setting it on the floor. Then, he put his shotgun away, stashing it behind a barrel.
The family gathered around the candle, huddled together as the cellar was rocked by repeated explosions from the battle above. Shots rang out in the distance as the battle raged.
A few minutes passed without anypony speaking. Finally, Mrs. Cake spoke.
“Oh, I hope that Pinkie Pie is okay! She just ran off with her friends to go and do who-knows-what.”
“Maybe she’s off to see Princess Luna,” said Pumpkin.
“I’m sure that Pinkie is fine,” said Mr. Cake. “She can take care of herself, and she has a way of getting out of bad situations. I’m just worried that the bakery will blow up, or catch on fire and collapse on top of us!”
He nervously eyed the ceiling, which shook lightly from a distant explosion. The light from the candle on the floor flickered.
“I mean, if one of us were to stay up there and keep an eye on things…”
“I’ll do it!” said Pound. He got up and headed towards the cellar door.
Mrs. Cake frowned, putting her hoof on his tail to stop him. “No you will not, Pound! I’m not having my little boy get shot. Sit back down.”
“Come on, Mom,” he urged.
“No! You’re just like your father, rushing off to do whatever you want without a single care for what might happen,” she said, sighing. “We’re all staying put here until things settle down.”
About an hour passed, with the Cake family sitting in tense silence, listening to the gunfire and explosions above, until Pumpkin Cake spoke.
“Why would they do this?” she asked. “We were at peace with the Second Kingdom, before.”
Mr. Cake shrugged. “Your mother and I don’t really follow politics, Pumpkin. I couldn’t even tell you who’s running for mayor this year.”
“Maybe they just did it because King Blueblood wanted to start a war. Sometimes, ponies do crazy things just because,” said Mrs. Cake.
Pumpkin shook her head. “But why? There has to be a good reason.”
After a brief silence, Mrs. Cake said, “I don’t know, dearie.”
Another hour passed. The explosions and gunfire died down somewhat, and they became more distant.
“Maybe they were driven off,” said Mr. Cake.
“Or they’ve taken the whole town,” said Mrs. Cake.
“I’m hungry,” said Pound.
Pumpkin said, “Me too. Daddy, you brought pies, right?”
Mr. Cake stood up from the dirt floor and walked over to where he had put the food, and grabbed four pies, bringing them back. They still smelled fresh and delicious.
“Here you go,” he said. He pointed to each one. “There’s apple, cherry, blueberry, and peach, so pick which one you want. They might be a little lukewarm by now, though.”
The Cakes each took a pie.
“I hope the Greenfields are okay. I think I saw their house was on fire,” said Mrs. Cake.
Mr. Cake shook his head. He spoke between mouthfuls of pie, “Let’s not talk about that. There’s no use worrying; there’s nothing we can do right now. Let’s all just eat.”
The twins were both busily devouring their pies. Mrs. Cake glanced down at her blueberry pie, which she had taken only three bites of. She pushed the pie away from herself.
“I’m not really all that hungry right now,” she said.
Their conversation was interrupted by a banging at the cellar door.
Mrs. Cake turned to her husband. “I wonder if that’s Pinkie, and if she’s come back?”
A gruff, masculine voice yelled, “Open up!”
“I don’t think it’s Pinkie,” said Pumpkin.
Pound chuckled. “Maybe she’s just changing her voice and playing a prank.”
Suddenly, something slammed against the door. A second later, it repeated. A few moments later, the wood splintered as a sliver of bright sunlight broke through. The Cakes winced, their eyes still used to the darkness.
“Hooves where I can see them! If you have a weapon, drop it on the ground!”
Mr. Cake put his hooves in the air.
“And you’d better not have any guns hidden in there, either, or we’ll shoot you!”
Mr. Cake remained silent, not moving.
The room lit up even more as three unicorn ponies entered, illuminating the room with their horns. They levitated assault rifles in front of them, pointing them towards the Cakes.
“Well, what do we have here?” a blue-coated mare spoke.
Though the twins were too young to know this mare, Mr. and Mrs. Cake recognized her.
Trixie Lulamoon looked at Pumpkin Cake and asked, “Tell me, young filly. Are these your parents?”
“Mm-hmm,” Pumpkin mumbled, quivering and quaking as Trixie towered over her.
“A unicorn with earth pony parents? We’ve hit the jackpot; she’s the twentieth one in this town so far! Take her.”
Pumpkin felt herself rise off the ground as one of the soldiers enveloped her in a field of magic.
“Aah!” she screamed.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Cake demanded, standing up from the floor.
“Leave my sister alone!” yelled Pound Cake, and he flew up in the air. He began to charge towards the soldier, who pointed his gun towards Pound, but Mr. Cake bit on his tail, restraining him.
Trixie laughed and said, “And a pegasus brother? How preciously repulsive. Be thankful I’m in a good mood and don’t have you shot for your insolence, colt.”
She and the two unicorn stallions exited the cellar with Pumpkin, slamming the trapdoor shut behind them.
Pumpkin Cake floated in the air for what seemed like an eternity as the unicorn soldier levitated her down a street in Ponyville. Her pupils dilated and her heart pounded as she wondered where the soldiers were taking her.
She tried to struggle and break free of the soldier's magic, but he turned to her and warned, “If you even dare to run away, I’ll go back there and kill your whole family!”
Pumpkin Cake didn’t struggle. She floated in the air, feeling woozy and light-headed from fear, the levitation spell not helping. She looked around. Most of the buildings in town were still intact, with only a few having been damaged by explosions or riddled with bullet holes. She breathed a sigh of relief.
At least the town is alright, Pumpkin thought. It was some small comfort.
She looked ahead. The soldier was taking her on the dirt road to the Apple Family’s barn on the outskirts of town. She wondered why, but figured that she would know soon enough.
The soldier opened the barn door, walked in, and set Pumpkin Cake down, finally letting her walk on her own four hooves again.
“Stay here, and don’t move.”
He walked away, leaving the barn. Pumpkin glanced around the barn, her eyes adjusting to the dark. She was not alone. There were two dozen other unicorn fillies and colts, most of whom were in her age group. The oldest ones couldn’t have been more than thirteen. However, it was hard to tell in the dimly lit barn. The only light came from the open door, from cracks between the wooden boards, or from the many bullet holes which now peppered the sides of the barn. A single armed guard stood at the entrance of the barn.
Pumpkin thought of the Apple family. She had often come here on errands to pick up bushels of apples for pies. She hoped they were all still alive.
“So, what’s your name?” Pumpkin turned around. A filly had walked up to her.
“Pumpkin Cake. And you are...”
“Sunrise Spring.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“What’s your special talent?” asked Sunrise Spring.
Pumpkin shook her head. “I don’t have one; I’m a blank flank.”
Sunrise Spring raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How old are you, Pumpkin Cake?”
“Nine,” said Pumpkin.
“I’m twelve, and my talent is painting. Nine and you still don’t have your cutie mark? Must be a late bloomer. Not that your special talent matters that much anymore. I’m sure that these unicorns have other plans for us.”
Pumpkin Cake gulped, and tried not to think about the soldiers. She had no idea what they could be planning, for she knew very little about the unicorn-only Second Kingdom.
Another group of about a dozen fillies and colts arrived.
Pumpkin wondered how this was possibly happening. This whole idea of a war in Ponyville was absurd. She thought for a moment that she might be dreaming.
That would be cool, she thought. When I’m in a dream and know I’m dreaming, then I can do whatever I want.
She tried a variety of things, like flying around the room or summoning an ice cream cone with thirty scoops of ice cream on it, but they didn’t work. So it wasn’t a dream. Or maybe it was, but it was incredibly vivid. Her question remained. Why was she here? What would happen to her?
She thought of what the other filly had said. "Not that your special talent matters that much anymore. I’m sure that these unicorns have other plans for us.”
Right now, her biggest question was if she would survive. Only a day ago, her biggest question had been what her special talent would ultimately end up being.
“Okay class, today we're going to learn about cutie marks,” said Ms. Cheerilee. “Now, how many of you in here have your cutie marks?”
All fifteen hooves in the room shot up, with the exception of Pound Cake, Pumpkin Cake, and one other colt.
“Wow, that many of you? Maybe I should start teaching the cutie mark lesson a little earlier!” Ms. Cheerilee chuckled. Nopony else in the room laughed.
Come to think of it, Pumpkin wondered why that lesson was taught in fourth grade. Seemed more like kindergarten level to her.
Cheerilee said, “Anyway, as you may already know, a cutie mark is a mark of your special talent, something that you're really good at. It’s meant to be your destiny in life. When you find your special talent, then a cutie mark will appear on your flank. Pretty simple, right? Mine is three flowers, which represent teaching, because you're all my little blossoms!” Cheerilee smiled as she pointed at the mark. She continued, “Don’t worry, even if you don’t have your cutie mark yet, it’s sure to show up in time. Just be patient, and it will come.”
Pumpkin Cake wondered what her teacher was doing right now. She was probably hiding under a desk, or dead.
The bell rang and the students filed out of the schoolhouse to go home for the day.
“Why don’t we have our cutie marks yet, Pound? What do you think they’ll be?”
“I don’t know, sis. But hey, it’s like Ms. Cheerilee said. It’s gotta show up someday. I’ll bet mine will be a pair of jetwings, since I can fly so fast!” Pound exclaimed, taking off into the air.
A dull boom echoed off in the distance, making the barn rumble ever so slightly and distracting Pumpkin for a moment. Hopefully the barn wouldn’t collapse.
Pumpkin Cake, not willing to take ‘someday’ as an answer like her brother, decided to talk to her parents.
“Well, Pumpkin, it’s like we’ve always told you and Pound. You two can take over the family business when we’re too old to work,” said Mrs. Cake.
“But I don’t like baking,” she replied. “I’ve tried it before, but it’s just so boring. It’s not my special talent, and it's not my destiny.”
“Then you and Pound can sell the business and use the money to go to college,” said Mr. Cake. “Go do something that is your special talent. Be a great doctor or lawyer. And don’t worry. Your mother didn’t get her mark until she was nine, just like you. I didn’t get my cutie mark until I was eleven! I’m sure that by the time you’re eleven, you’ll have your mark. And when that day comes, I’ll just say ‘I told you so.’”
But would that day even come? Would she ever see her parents or Pound again? Would they be shot anyway, even if she didn’t try to escape? What did the Second Kingdom’s soldiers have in store for her?
Pumpkin Cake recalled an earth pony colt named Augusto who was in the sixth grade and had once lived in Canterlot. He had told her about how Canterlot had been during Princess Celestia's reign, before she fell ill and passed away, leaving Twilight and Luna in charge. Back then, the Second Kingdom didn’t exist yet, and Canterlot was still part of Equestria. Pumpkin had been too young to remember, and had only read about it in history books.
Augusto had told Pumpkin of how the sun shimmered off the shining white domes of the buildings, the streets were paved with marble, and he could gaze out over all of Equestria from the mountainside. He joked about how everypony wore top hats in Canterlot, even the ones who weren’t rich, just so they could fit in with the ones who were rich.
But then, when Celestia died, there was a power struggle. Riots and street skirmishes broke out, and soon Prince Blueblood was elected the leader of the self-proclaimed Second Kingdom in Canterlot. Luna and Twilight fled and moved Equestria’s capital to Manehattan. At first, things in the new Canterlot weren't so bad. The economy grew for a while. Augusto’s parents, both factory owners, had made a lot of money after Blueblood got rid of some hated Celestia-era taxes.
But then, three years later, they had to pack up and move to Ponyville. Apparently, Blueblood didn’t like non-unicorns living anywhere on Second Kingdom soil. But now that the Second Kingdom’s soil included Ponyville as well… Pumpkin tried not to think about it. She was not about to start crying around all these other fillies and colts, only one or two of whom were crying themselves.
”You know, Pumpkin dearie, you can always go to see Princess Twilight about your cutie mark,” said Mrs. Cake. “She’s in town visiting from Manehattan, and she’s staying at the library. She might be busy, but I’m sure she could find time to help you while she’s here.”
“Yes,” Mr. Cake added, “Princess Twilight is very smart and magical. She may know of a spell that can help you find your destiny.”
But Twilight wasn’t powerful enough to stop this war, Pumpkin realized. Even Princesses aren’t invulnerable.
Pumpkin Cake knocked on the door to the library. She half expected there to be no answer, for Twilight to be out on royal business or something. But the door opened after a few moments, and Spike answered.
“Hello, um…” Spike started, raising an eyebrow.
“Pumpkin Cake. You might not remember me, but I remember you. You’re Spike! Pinkie told us all about you. I’m the Cakes’ daughter.”
She shook hooves with the dragon.
Spike said, “Oh, yeah, I remember you, too! But you were still a toddler the last time I saw you. Nice to meet you.”
“May I speak with the Princess?”
“Well, she’s very busy, but I’ll see if she can make an exception for a friend.” Spike left and returned a few moments later with Twilight Sparkle.
Twilight’s eyes lit up as she gazed down at the young filly. “Pumpkin Cake! My, look how much you’ve grown! Please, come in! Sit down.”
Pumpkin Cake was distracted from her flashback by the door opening once more. Ten more fillies and colts walked in, with the guard at the door giving them the same threat to their families should they try to escape. Some of the ponies in this group were no more than five years old. They cried and bawled hysterically.
“I’m having trouble finding my cutie mark,” said Pumpkin, pointing at her bare flank.
Twilight said, ”Your cutie mark, eh? Well, let’s see, here. Normally, it’s something you’re good at. Are you good at anything?”
Pumpkin Cake shrugged.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find something,” said Twilight, smiling. “Just try a lot of things that you like, and you’re bound to find one you’re good at. My own talent is magic, which is how I became an alicorn princess. I see that you’re a unicorn, just like I used to be. Perhaps your special talent is magic, like mine?”
Pumpkin shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m not too good at magic.”
Another, larger group of unicorn fillies and colts came in. There were twenty in this group. Pumpkin wondered if the soldiers planned to fill up the whole barn with captured children.
Twilight asked, “Can you cast any spells?”
“Just three spells. Levitation of little things; I can’t lift a lot. Also, I know horn lighting, and then one other spell.”
“What other spell?”
“I don’t know what it’s called,” said Pumpkin.
“What does it do? I’m curious now; I love magic of all types. Can you show me, please?” asked Twilight, smiling as she leaned forward towards Pumpkin Cake.
Pumpkin Cake nodded, and then stared at the coffee table. Her horn glowed cerulean, and the tabletop glowed cerulean as well. She reached over with her hoof and stuck it straight through the tabletop, as if it was made of air. After a few moments, she removed her hoof, powered down her horn, and the table returned to normal.
“An intangibility spell? Now that’s intriguing!” exclaimed Twilight, her eyes lighting up in interest.
“Yeah, it’s nothing special,” said Pumpkin. “It’s just some trick that I used to leave my crib when I was younger, or that I use to walk through the walls to avoid Pound whenever we play hide and seek.”
“No, you misunderstand me. ‘Intriguing’ means ‘interesting.’ That spell’s actually really neat,” said Twilight.
“So is that my special talent?”
Twilight grinned. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard of too many other ponies who could do that. It sure meets the ‘special’ requirement of special talent; I’ll say that much.”
“Yeah, but what can I do with an intangibability spell, anyway?”
“Intangibility,” Twilight corrected. “As for what you can do with it, um… Be a secret agent? Um…”
She paused, trying to think of more things.
“Be a prospector and use it to look for gold?”
Pumpkin shook her head.
Twilight paused once more, and asked, “Can you use it on other ponies, or use it on yourself?”
“No.”
“Well, that rules out anything in medicine, like doctor or surgeon. Hmm… Sorry, but I have nothing else. The few other ponies whom I’ve ever heard of with that kind of magic were outlaws from centuries ago. They used it to rob banks, burgle homes, and escape from jail after they were caught. You’re a good pony, though; a life of crime or prison probably isn’t in the cards for you.”
Pumpkin Cake looked at the dark walls surrounding her, the armed guard at the door, and the sad and despondent faces of the fillies and colts who sat within the barn. It certainly felt like a prison. Despite her having committed no crime, here she was regardless. And despite her power to escape if she wanted, she wouldn’t dare. They would kill her whole family. She was old enough to grasp the irony of the situation, though not quite old enough to know what the word “irony” meant.
”I’m sure that you’ll think of some cool thing to do with that spell,” said Twilight. “But, then again, that spell might not even be your special talent. Your talent could be something else even greater than that. Don’t give up hope! Just be patient and you’ll find your destiny someday. Now, I have to finish up some work before I go back to Manehattan tomorrow. Good luck.”
Twilight smiled and patted Pumpkin Cake on the head, and she headed for the door.
Pumpkin Cake thought about Twilight’s words: “Just be patient and you’ll find your destiny someday.” But how could she be patient with something as important as her destiny: what she would do for the rest of her life? As for finding it “someday,” would there even be a someday for her?
“Attention, unicorn fillies and colts!”
Pumpkin Cake’s thoughts were interrupted by Trixie, who stepped in the room. Trixie cast a light spell, illuminating the darkened barn. Pumpkin could see that there were now about a hundred children in the barn.
“My name is the Great and Powerful Trixie,” she proclaimed, pointing at her chest with her hoof as she stuck her head high into the air. “A few of you may recognize me from when I freed you from your earth pony surrogates.”
“But they’re our parents!” a filly cried out.
Trixie shook her head. “No, they're not. They’re lesser ponies. Though they gave birth to you, they’re not your parents any more than the primordial soup which spawned life itself. They were your surrogates, but not true parents, as only a unicorn could be. King Blueblood is your father, now. Welcome to the unicorn race, our children. We shall treat you far better than your surrogates ever did.”
Nopony seemed impressed. Trixie continued regardless, “Now, not only are you unicorns, but you are very special unicorns.” She paused for a moment.
Pumpkin’s ears perked up. Special?
As if reading Pumpkin’s mind, Trixie smiled and said, “Yes, special indeed. As you know, farming and growing crops is normally the earth ponies’ job. Usually, a unicorn can no more farm than he can fly. But you all can farm, because you have the genetics. Earth pony blood runs through your veins from the surrogates who birthed you. Just as we freed you from your surrogates, allowing you your independence from them, you will repay the favor by growing crops for the Second Kingdom, allowing our independence from earth ponies!”
“But I thought you already got your independence,” said Sunrise Spring, raising her hoof in the air. “That’s what we learned in history class. The Second Kingdom got independence from Equestria to make peace, and there was a treaty. You got what you wanted. Why are you here, then?”
Trixie sighed. She said, “The history you were taught is a lie, young filly. We have an independent nation, but haven’t yet gained our racial self-reliance. The Second Kingdom still needs to trade with Equestria for much of our food, but in its greed, Equestria places high prices and tariffs on food to extort us, since they know that we have no other choice but to buy from them. Our plates are never full, and thousands of unicorns go hungry every night because they can’t afford food. But with you, they can.
“We have already cast spells and invented airplanes to change the weather without the pegasi. Soon, we shall move the sun and moon without the alicorns. With you, we shall feed ourselves without the earth ponies. We are the master race; the only ones who can be truly independent. An earth pony could never move clouds. They can only grow crops, but so can you. You can do all that they can do and so much more. We’ll be truly independent, as only we can be. We shall be self-sustaining, and we shall be sufficient unto the day.”
She stuck her hoof out and gestured towards all the young ponies in the room.
“Whatever that mark on your flank says is your destiny, it’s wrong. It was put there by scheming inferiors to keep you from your true potential. Your true destiny, all one hundred and four of you, is to grow crops and be farmers. With the help of our tractors, combine harvesters, seeders, and other farming machines made by the great unicorn inventors Flim and Flam, you will grow crops for thousands and thousands of other ponies. All of them will rely on you for life’s nourishment itself! This is your duty as unicorns: to serve your race.”
“My cutie mark isn’t fake; it appeared when I found my special talent!” a colt objected, frowning.
“Young colt, do you know what brainwashing is?” Trixie asked in a consoling tone, walking over to the colt and smiling down at him.
“No.”
“It’s when you are lied to over and over again, and then you believe it.”
“We’ve been lied to?” the colt asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” said Trixie, walking back towards the center of the room. She pointed with her hoof towards the direction of Ponyville and said, “Your parents, principals, pastors, police ponies, princesses, and other ponies in positions of power have perniciously perpetrated a pack of pretensions to prevent you from partaking in your potential as providers of plenty!”
Pumpkin was perplexed.
Seeing the children’s confused faces, Trixie continued, “Um, what I mean is that the ponies who claim to love you have actually lied to you to stop you from being the best that you can be. The cutie mark is part of this lie. All of you should really have farming cutie marks. You were brainwashed so much that the cutie mark magic itself was fooled. Thankfully, though, I'm here to correct it for the good of the unicorn race.”
A filly in the back of the barn yelled out, “But my special talent has to be ice skating! I’m good at it!”
“You may be good at it, but is it really your destiny?” Trixie asked, walking over to her. “What’s better, frolicking about in ice skates for other ponies’ fleeting amusement, or growing food to feed other ponies, giveing them life itself? Believe me, I was a performer once, too. I loved the cheers of the crowd. But I had the chance to join the Second Kingdom and make a true difference, and I'm a better pony for it. I used to call myself the Great and Powerful Trixie because that was my stage name. Now, I still call myself Great and Powerful, but for different reasons: because I am helping the unicorn master race realize its true greatness and power.”
“But we still have these marks on our flanks,” said a colt.
“Ah, but now you know that they're wrong. Tell me, children, how many of you believe in Santa Hooves?”
Roughly half of the room raised their hooves. Pumpkin kept hers down.
“Well, I hate to break it to you all, but he isn’t real. Those presents were from your surrogates. Did you honestly think that one pony can visit every house on the planet in one night and deliver millions and millions of presents, all for free? Santa Hooves is impossible,” she laughed.
A few of the very young fillies and colts started crying.
“Now, it’s painful for you to hear that truth… but the pain is necessary. Sooner or later, if I or someone else hadn’t told you, your knowledge of how the world works would have clued you in. You would've realized that Santa Hooves could not be real.
“It's painful to know, but with this pain comes power, as you now know something that you didn’t before. Those of you who already knew that Santa Hooves was fake before I told you: would you take back the pain of the realization in exchange for never being able to know, to be trapped in your ignorance forever?”
No pony in the group raised a hoof.
“So, pain can be worth it if it leads to the truth, then; we agree.”
Most of the ponies in the group nodded. Trixie motioned for one of her guards to come towards her. He carried a long metal stick with an object attached to it at the end. Pumpkin didn’t know what it was.
He held the handle of the stick as Trixie fired a magical ray of pure energy at it. She concentrated the beam for about a minute until the object on the end of the stick was red hot. Pumpkin Cake could now see that it was in the shape of two interlocking gears.
“This is a brand. It's meant to replace your false cutie mark with a true one. The two gears represent the farming machines that will enable each of you to do the work it would normally take hundreds of earth ponies to do. See that saggy old plow over there?”
She pointed towards Big Macintosh’s plow, which was parked against the side of the barn wall.
“You will not be using anything like that. Plows pulled by muscles are very inefficient. You’ll use steam-powered tractors which will let you till a field hundreds of times larger than the strongest earth pony could ever do with that antique. The gears on this branding iron represent what is possible with technology created by the superior intelect and dexterity of the master race. Now, this brand will hurt, but the pain will be temporary. The knowledge of the truth will be forever. Who’s first?”
Nopony volunteered.
“Alright, then, how about you, filly with the blank flank and the orange mane?”
Pumpkin blinked before she realized that Trixie was pointing to her.
"Yes, you," said Trixie, pointing to Pumpkin Cake. “This will be less painful for you than for some of the others, as you don’t already have a cutie mark. You have yet to buy whatever lie your surrogates and so-called friends would’ve sold you about whatever your special talent would’ve supposedly been. Whatever they would have told you, it would not have been as grand as this. Step forward.”
Pumpkin gulped, but she walked forward, more terrified of what the consequences would be if she refused.
“What’s your name?”
“Pu-pumpkin C-c-cake,” she stammered.
“This will only hurt for a few moments, Pumpkin Cake.”
Pumpkin Cake took a deep breath. Trixie levitated the brand onto Pumpkin’s flank, where it made contact. Her flesh sizzled as the brand left its mark.
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” Pumpkin screamed. Tears of pain ran down her cheek as she bit down, nearly cracking her teeth. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like forever. The sick smell of burning fur and flesh invaded the air, making her gag.
“You’re such a trooper! Only one flank to go. Turn around, please.”
Pumpkin obeyed. Before she knew it, the other flank was searing under the hot iron of the brand. Again, she screamed. Finally, Trixie removed the brand.
“So brave! That deserves a round of applause. Give it up for Pumpkin Cake!"
Only a few ponies stomped their hooves.
“You can do better than that. Cheer for her!”
More of them this time, but still not everypony.
Trixie sighed. “Listen, she deserves accolades for that. She has the mark of knowledge, which is an achievement. Do you want us to be here all day, or shall we get the pain over with as soon as we can?”
This time, everypony stomped their hooves. Some even cheered.
“That’s the spirit! Pumpkin, you may go sit down.”
Trixie was wrong. Pumpkin’s pain had been far worse than the others, because she had gone through the branding knowing full well that at any moment, she could have just cast an intangibility spell on the brand to make it as harmless as the air.
In the dark of the Sugarcube Corner cellar, Pound Cake and his parents sat in shock after the soldiers left with Pumpkin Cake. Mrs. Cake was in tears, sobbing. Mr. Cake held her in his arms, rubbing her back consolingly.
Nopony said a word for a few minutes. Finally, Pound Cake said, “What did they do with her?”
Mrs. Cake sniffled. “I… I don’t know, son.”
They remained quiet for a few moments.
“Well… are we gonna go get her, or…” Pound started.
Neither of his parents answered him immediately. After some time, Mr. Cake asked, “Cup, honey, what do you think we should do?”
Mrs. Cake drew back and looked her husband in the eye. “We try to get her back, I mean…” she sniffed. “But I don’t know how we would! Those unicorns are armed to the teeth, and… I don’t want to lose either of you to them!”
“Well, we need to come up with a plan to rescue her, to get her out of danger,” said Mr. Cake, scratching his chin with his hoof. “I don’t want to run into this blind, though. We need to plan ahead carefully and take the time to know what we’re up against.”
“We don’t even know where they’ve taken her,” said Mrs. Cake, regaining her composure slightly as she rubbed her eyes to wipe some of the tears away. “They could be anywhere by now.”
“They wouldn’t have gone too far,” said Mr. Cake. “We just need to scope out the town somehow and find—”
“I’ll do it!” Pound interjected.
“You’ll do no such thing, young stallion!” Mrs. Cake said.
“But all I’ll do is just fly up in the air, find out where she is, and come back and tell you so you can figure out what to do,” Pound explained.
“Well, honey, it would be nice to not go into this blind, and to know where they’re keeping her. I doubt that they’ll shoot Pound for just flying around, as long as he doesn’t do anything suspicious. They didn’t seem to be shooting at civilians before,” Mr. Cake said.
“Well, what if they start? A few days ago, the Second Kingdom and Equestria were at peace. A fragile peace, but peace nonetheless. But then they launched a surprise invasion, killed dozens and dozens of the town guard, and kidnapped our daughter along with who knows how many other unicorn fillies and colts. Going from that to shooting a bunch of civilians in cold blood isn’t exactly too much of a stretch.”
“Well then,” Mr. Cake retorted, frowning, “why not just live in this cellar for the rest of our lives? If you’re so worried that they’ll just shoot a kid for flying around, or shoot us for walking around, then let’s just never leave!”
“No, we’ll leave,” she said. “But—”
“But what? But then we’ll live in fear for the rest of our lives? We’ll spend the rest of our lives lying awake at night wondering what would’ve happened if we had tried to rescue her? Wondering if maybe, just maybe, we could’ve gotten her back and escaped from Ponyville as a family? Yes, maybe I end up shot and killed. But at least I tried.”
Pound looked his mother in the eyes and nodded.
Mrs. Cake sighed, “Well, not that there’s any use arguing the point anyway. You’ve made up your mind. Just promise me that you’ll be safe, Pound.”
“He knows what to do,” said Carrot. “Don’t you, Pound? Just fly around the town, get a pegasus’ eye view, and find out where they took Pumpkin and the other foals that we heard Trixie mention. Then we’ll go from there.”
“I’d imagine they took any unicorn with earth pony parents, since that was who Trixie mentioned,” said Mrs. Cake. “For a town like Ponyville, where all types of ponies live together, that would probably be at least a few dozen. So just look for a large group of fillies and colts. But for Luna’s sake, be safe and keep your head down! Try not to look suspicious. If a soldier yells a command at you, just do whatever he tells you. It’s not worth you getting shot, and then us losing you and Pumpkin. Understand?”
“Yes,” Pound said.
“Now, if they do start shooting at you, I want you to fly as high up as you can so that they have less chance of hitting you.”
“Yes, mom.”
“Good, dearie. Alright, now I feel more comfortable letting him do this,” said Mrs. Cake. “Granted, I’m not completely okay with it, since it’s dangerous, but I guess you’re right that it would be dangerous anyway. And we do need a plan for getting Pumpkin back.”
Mr. Cake nodded. “Now, let’s do something that we would have to do anyway. Let’s leave the cellar. I’ll just grab that barrel with my gun in it, and we’ll go.”
He walked over to the barrel and heaved it onto his back.
“Wait a minute,” said Mrs. Cake, “Is anything else in there besides the gun?”
“No, why?” Mr. Cake asked.
“Because what if they search it? Then they’ll find the gun. Here…”
Mrs. Cake went over to a sack of flour, ripped it open with her teeth, and poured it into the barrel. She then got another sack and emptied it as well. The flour was just enough to conceal the rifle.
“Great, now I’ll have to clean all the flour out of my gun,” Mr. Cake groaned.
“At least you’ll still have a gun,” Mrs. Cake responded. “All three of us walking out of this cellar with just one barrel is suspicious, though. Pound and I will grab other barrels of flour as well, that way we can say that we all came down here to get flour.”
The three of them each grabbed a barrel, and then they headed up the steps, out of the cellar, and into the sunlight. They squinted their eyes as they adjusted to the light. They walked around to the front of the house, carrying the barrels on their backs. However, a unicorn soldier in the street saw them, and he raised his gun towards them.
“Halt! What’s in those barrels?”
“Just some flour. We run this bakery,” said Mr. Cake, pointing to Sugarcube Corner.
“Flour? Likely story. For all I know they’re full of weapons or bullets, or makeshift bombs,” the soldier said. “Put them on the ground.”
The Cakes put the three barrels on the ground. The unicorn soldier lifted the lids off of each barrel with his magic. Seeing nothing but flour, he put the lids back.
“Very well, then. Carry on. Oh, and kid. Do you fly?”
“Yes,” Pound responded.
“Figures. Well, just stay out of the way of our airplanes if you don’t want to get torn up by a propeller. We’ve had some accidents with pegasi civilians before.”
“Oh, thanks,” said Pound Cake.
“Mmhmm,” the soldier muttered, walking away.
The Cakes continued into the bakery, where they put down their barrels.
“Well, he was… nice?” said Mr. Cake. “They can’t all be evil, I suppose.”
“Yes, and now at least we know Pound won’t be shot down out of the sky,” said Mrs. Cake.
“Okay, I’ll go scope out the town,” said Pound Cake.
“Be safe, whatever you do,” warned Mrs. Cake, pointing at Pound.
“I know you can do this, son. Be brave,” Mr. Cake encouraged, patting him on the back.
“You bet,” said Pound, opening the door as he took off into the air.
Pound Cake soared in the air above Ponyville, looking for any sign of his sister or the other unicorn children. From a few hundred meters in the air where he was, he could see many streets and rooftops below.
There were several buildings smoldering, and several which had completely burned. In one house, a pony was sifting through charred wood and remains, digging through to try to find anything salvageable. Despite the carnage, the fight had not been entirely one-sided. There was a makeshift medical tent set up in the middle of the town, and scores of unicorns were being treated for bullet wounds.
Pound continued flying over the city, in shock at how different it appeared now. The streets and skies were nearly deserted. Those few ponies who were outside scurried about nervously, glancing over their shoulders from time to time.
Unicorn soldiers walked from house to house, knocking on doors. He noticed that most of them were simply knocking, entering the house, and then leaving a few minutes later. He figured they were conducting random searches as they had been with his parents.
He flew along, not seeing anything of note, until he saw a group of soldiers carrying a unicorn colt in their magic as they had done with his sister.
Of course, I just need to follow them!
Pound ascended a few hundred more meters into the air until he was well above sight of the unicorns. He didn’t want them to think he was following them. He sat on a nearby cloud, as if taking a rest, and observed these soldiers. They were small specks, about the size of ants at his height, but he could still just barely make them out.
They were headed in the direction of Sweet Apple Acres, and reached it in about ten minutes. A half dozen unicorn troops were stationed on the outside of the barn, all holding their rifles at the ready.
He dashed back to Sugarcube Corner, opened the door, and told his parents.
“Hey, they’re taking all the unicorn children to Sweet Apple Acres."
“Thanks, son,” said Mr. Cake, who was busy cleaning flour out of his hunting rifle. “Now, here’s what I need you to do. Your mother has come up with a plan for the three of us to rescue your sister, and it won’t put our lives in danger. Now, listen carefully, and I’ll tell you what to do.”
A few hours later, Pound Cake emerged from the bakery along with his mother and father. His father carried a cart in tow, and on the cart was a large barrel. The family walked down the street of town, chatting with each other and trying to appear inconspicuous as a normal family would.
Pound Cake and his parents eyed the soldiers who walked around the town. None of them seemed to pay his parents any mind, until one of them stopped them and asked to search the barrel. Finding only apple pies, he let them walk on their way. The Cakes walked in the direction of Sweet Apple Acres, cart in tow.
As soon as they were far enough outside of town to where there was nopony around, Mr. Cake unhitched himself from the cart. He bent down, reached under the cart, and retrieved the rifle which he had placed atop the axles of the wheels. He then ran into the thick grove of trees where nopony could see him.
“Oh, don’t forget this,” said Mrs. Cake. He turned around as she reached into the barrel and got the pie on the top, handing it to Mr. Cake.
“Thanks,” he said, retrieving it. He ran into the trees and removed the pie crust. This particular pie was a decoy, and was actually full of bullets for his rifle. Mr. Cake hurried through the trees towards the Apple Family barn. Mrs. Cake took the cart, and she and her son continued down the path for a while longer until they reached the fence indicating the Sweet Apple Acres property line. A unicorn soldier stood guard on the path.
“Halt!” the guard said, holding up his hoof. “What business do you two have here?”
“My son and I just need to deliver this order of pies to the Apple Family, and then we’ll be on our way,” said Mrs. Cake, smiling at him.
The guard shook his head. “This farm is no longer their property; it’s been siezed, and they’ve been kicked out. You won’t find them here.”
“Oh no!” cried Mrs. Cake. “Now what will we do with all of these dozens of pies? The Apple Family needed them for their family reunion!”
“I don’t know,” said the guard, shrugging.
“Great, now they’ll just go to waste,” she lamented. “Are you sure that you don’t want them, dearie?” She reached into the barrel, grabbed a pie, and offered it to the guard. The guard’s eyes widened as he took a whiff of the delicious, sweet-smelling apple pie.
“Hmm… well, I haven’t eaten all day…” he said, licking his lips.
“Here you go,” said Mrs. Cake, giving the guard the pie. He wolfed it down in less than a minute.
“Mmmmm! That’s good stuff,” he said. “Alright, just head down to the barn; you’ll find a bunch of unicorn fillies and colts. Just give the pies to them, and I’m sure they’ll eat them up. But there’s armed guards, so don’t try any funny business, or Sergeant Bolt Action will have you shot.”
Mrs. Cake and Pound continued through the wooden gate. Mr. Cake, who was hidden in the trees, saw this exchange and took it as a sign to continue. He walked through the orchard, crouching to remain concealed. When he was right next to barn, he climbed a nearby apple tree and used the leaves for cover.
Mrs. Cake and her son walked down the path and up to the front door of the barn. There were now a dozen guards stationed at various posts around the barn. When they tried to enter, one of the guards stopped them.
“Pie delivery for a bunch of hungry fillies and colts,” said Mrs. Cake.
The guard raised his eyebrow. “We didn’t order any pies. You’ll have to go back.”
“Sergeant Bolt Action sent us,” said Pound Cake, taking a gamble.
“Oh, did he? Alright, come on in.”
Mrs. Cake entered the barn. Once they were out of earshot, Mrs. Cake scolded, “Pound. That was incredibly risky. What if he had been the sergeant, or had called up the sergeant and found you were lying?”
“Well, he didn’t.” Pound shrugged.
“Just stick to the plan from now on, okay?”
They continued further into the dimly-lit barn, seeing dozens of unicorn fillies and colts on the ground. They all had the gear brands on their flanks. Some of them were still sobbing from the pain. Pound and his mother winced at the sight. They did not see Pumpkin in the crowd, because it was too dark.
Trixie stood and glanced at the two Cakes.
“You two? What are you doing here?” she demanded. “As I recall, I took a unicorn from you, a unicorn whom you as an earth pony had no right to raise, so you’d better not be here to ask for her back.”
“Oh, no, dearie, we’re just here to deliver some pies,” said Mrs. Cake, opening the barrel and pulling a pie out.
Trixie eyed them suspiciously.
“The ones that Sergeant Bolt Action ordered us to make?” Pound Cake added.
“Sergeant Bolt Action?” asked Trixie, “Well…”
Mrs. Cake’s heart jumped in her chest.
Trixie finished, “Glad to see that you two are obedient to your unicorn superiors.”
Trixie turned to the children, “You all have been so brave. I thought that you deserved a treat, so here are some apple pies for you.”
The children, who had not eaten in hours, stood up and formed a line to receive their pies. Mrs. Cake eyed Pumpkin standing near the end of the line. The two Cakes quickly emptied out the barrel, but there were twenty or so children who had yet to receive the pies.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t bring enough,” Trixie sighed. “I see eighteen children who didn’t get one.”
“Huh, that’s funny. Pound, did you forget them?”
“Oops,” said Pound, blushing, “I think I left the other barrel back at the bakery. I can just fly back to the bakery and get them.” Pound headed for the front door of the barn.
Trixie sighed. “Stupid dirt ponies,” she grumbled.
Pound left the barn and flew two hundred meters straight up into the air and waved his hooves. His father, upon seeing this, took it as a signal and fired his rifle, taking a few potshots at the side of the barn.
Meanwhile, back in the barn, Trixie heard the gunfire. She ran outside to investigate, leaving just one guard in the barn.
Mr. Cake took a more deliberate shot this time, and he hit his mark. A unicorn guard fell down, a shot straight through his chest.
One of the guards yelled, “We’re under fire! We’ve taken a casualty! All units respond!”
The last guard from the barn ran outside to assist. This left no guards inside of the barn.
“Pumpkin!” Mrs. Cake cried out.
“Mommy!” cried Pumpkin Cake, and she ran over to her mother, giving her a hug, “What are you doing here?”
“There’s no time to explain, Pumpkin. Here.” Mrs. Cake picked up her daughter and set her inside the barrel, putting the lid back on.
She turned around to exit the barn, but a colt from the crowd said, “No fair! Why didn’t my parents come to rescue me?”
“Shh. They’ll be here soon, dearies,” said Mrs. Cake. “I have to go; our family needs to escape.”
“No fair!” another yelled.
Soon, several fillies and colts began screaming and crying. One of the guards from outside ran back in upon hearing the commotion, and discovered that Mrs. Cake was still there. He stood outside the door, drew his rifle, and pointed it at her. The children, upon seeing the guard, quieted down.
“What’s all the commotion? he demanded, eyes narrowed.
Pound Cake glanced down from the air where he still hovered and saw the guard had his rifle drawn and pointed into the barn. Scared that his mother was in trouble, he dive bombed straight towards the barn door and the guard.
“They’re just scared from the gunfire,” said Mrs. Cake.
Pound was closing in on his target.
“Ah, I see. Carry on then,” said the guard in the split second right before Pound Cake delivered a flying kick to his back, knocking him to the ground. In the guard’s confusion, he fired a bullet from his rifle.
“AAH!” Mrs. Cake screamed, hit with a bullet in her leg.
“Mommy!” said Pound. He flew back around and up to his mother, “I saw you were in trouble.”
“No, I just had to talk to the guard, that was all. Why didn’t you do as I told you and go back to the bakery after you gave the signal?”
“I just wanted to help…”
They heard voices off in the distance.
“The sniper’s been neutralized. Just another dirt pony civilian who wanted to play soldier…”
Pound flew up into the rafters, hiding just as a guard entered the barn.
“What’s going ON?” he exclaimed.
“Nothing, just a little firing accident,” Mrs. Cake answered.
“Wait a minute…” The guard ran over to his unconscious comrade. He glared menacingly at Mrs. Cake.
“You!” He levitated his rifle up and took a shot at her.
“AAH!” she screamed, this time hit in the stomach.
“No!” yelled Pound, flying down and bucking the guard before he could react.
The guard fell to the floor, knocked out cold.
“Go to… go to Cloudsdale, out of danger...… take your sister… it’s safe there…” Mrs. Cake spoke, coughing up blood. Her eyes closed.
“Nooooo!” Pound yelled once more. He flew over to the barrel and opened it to find Pumpkin Cake still hiding inside.
“Pumpkin, come on! We’ve got to go to Cloudsdale!”
“No, Pound! Not without mom and dad. Who will take care of us?”
“Look, I don’t know, but mom and dad can’t come. Come on, get out of that barrel and let’s go! Quit bein’ a scaredy-cat!”
“No, it’s too dangerous!”
Pound tipped over the barrel and tried to wrench her sister out, but she wouldn’t budge.
“In here! I heard gunfire!”
Hearing the soldiers, Pound gave up trying to get his sister, but instead said, “Look, I’ll come back for you. It’s okay.”
Pound flew off, out the door of the barn. The unicorns fired shots at him, but missed, and he ascended higher and higher into the heavens.
He reached a cloud and sat down on it, his head spinning. He lay down on the soft cloud as the hard reality hit him.
Both of his parents were dead. His mother was shot. If she wasn’t dead, she was surely dying, he figured. His father had been “neutralized,” so in all likelihood dead as well. He sobbed. His parents, both dead. His sister, a prisoner who wouldn’t come with him.
And it’s all my fault, he thought.
Inside the Wonderbolt command center, Twilight Sparkle sat at a table. In front of her stood a map of the Equestrian continent which contained both Equestria and the Second Kingdom. The map had various colored pony figures on it to represent the two armies.
“We’ve been planning our next move ever since we got the news yesterday that Ponyville had been invaded,” said Spitfire. “This afternoon, we’ll launch our air force at their positions in Ponyville and in Canterlot here and here.”
She moved the pieces on the map to show the strategy.
“Unfortunately, we’ve had to divert some of our resources to the western coast of Equestria near Vanhoover and Tall Tale to combat the recent Zebra Empire invasion, as indicated by the striped pieces over here.”
King Blueblood had forged an alliance between the Zebra Empire and the Second Kingdom, and the Zebra Empire had agreed to offer forces for Blueblood’s invasion if Blueblood would supply them with war planes in their ongoing wars against the griffons.
“In spite of this, I believe that we can still deal a crushing blow to Blueblood,” said Spitfire. “We have air superiority over him. He may be able to match our forces on the ground with unicorn magic, but from the air, he’s virtually powerless. He has a few hundred bi-planes, but they’re slower and harder to maneuver than pegasi, and we have thousands of pegasi, not even counting reserves.”
She pointed to the forces on the map.
“The Zebras, on the other hoof, have no air force to speak of, other than the few planes that the Second Kingdom gave them. And their magic is limited to potion-making, so they can’t even cast protective force fields or teleport like the unicorns can. That’ll make their ground forces much easier to defeat. Though they do have a formidable navy, they’re practically sitting ducks. Don’t know why Blueblood got himself such a weak ally.”
She knocked over the striped zebra figures near Vanhoover.
“I predict this war will be over in a hurry. Blueblood will surrender, and we’ll get back Ponyville. We may even be able to ask him for more, like the Flatlands up north that they got from the independence treaty. So much for the unicorn master race!” She knocked over all of the unicorn figures and chuckled.
“Hmm,“ Twilight said, scratching her chin with her hoof. “This victory almost seems too easy. Why do you think he attacked us if his forces were so outnumbered, and he didn’t have an air strategy?”
“Cockiness, probably,” General Spitfire answered. “I mean, look at me. Even though I have pride and confidence in my forces, I know when I don’t stand a chance. Folks like Blueblood, though? They’re egomaniacal and think that they’re hot stuff when they clearly aren’t. Hell, Blueblood doesn't even have enough food to feed his people now that there's a war. The Second Kingdom was trading with us for all of their food. Now that there's a war and they can't trade with us, the Second Kingdom will be starving within a year. Blueblood is clearly short-sighted, and this war will be over very soon.”
“Yeah, I guess…” Twilight began, shrugging. “But I think that this war might not turn out as easy as you think. Blueblood may be egomaniacal or narcissistic, but he’s an academic, former dean of Celestia’s School For Gifted unicorns, successful political writer, and anything but an idiot. He wouldn’t attack if he didn’t think there wasn’t a conceivable way for him to win. Even if he wanted to commit such suicide, his council of ministers would surely put up a fight.”
“Well, if you see any way for him to win, believe me, I’m all ears,” said Spitfire, “but look at this map. We surround the Second Kingdom from all sides except the north, which is a frozen wasteland anyway. Even the zebras aren’t that much of a match. How much can tribal potion makers be capable of, anyway? Blueblood’s air force is a joke. Yeah, his ground troops are well trained in magic, but our ground forces way outnumber his. Even if we didn’t have an air force at all, he’d still have a battle on his hooves, most likely a draw.
“The only thing he has going for him is Canterlot, which is a mountain city and easily defensible. So, no, maybe we can’t easily take Canterlot back from him. But all this open space? He can’t hold it forever. I think he just made a stupid decision, and now he’ll pay the price for it, and hopefully he never thinks of attacking Equestria again when we’re through with him.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Twilight, gazing down at the map.
On his cloud far above Ponyville and the Second Kingdom forces, Pound sat, gazing forlornly down at the town below. His eyes clouded with tears, and his screams pierced the air, audible to nopony but him.
After some time, his bawling turned to sobs, which turned to occasional tears, which turned to a simple sense of sadness. The initial shock of his parents’ death had worn off, replaced by a sense of fatigue. His eyelids drooped heavy over his eyes. He slept for about an hour before he woke up, restless.
Finally, he stood up and said to himself, “Gotta be strong.” He took off from the cloud and flew towards the direction of Cloudsdale, where his mother had told him to go.
On his way, however, he saw hundreds upon hundreds of pegasi troops flying towards Ponyville. He figured that these were the reinforcements from Equestria which were going off to fight the Second Kingdom forces.
After another hour of flying, Pound Cake reached the city of Cloudsdale. He landed on a cloud near the edge of town, and he could hear the air raid sirens blaring. He glanced around and saw ponies flying all around, blanketing the sky and casting shadows down onto the clouds.
A pegasus mare flew up to Pound Cake. “Hey, colt! You should get inside! Where’s your mother?”
“She’s gone,” said Pound, sniffling a bit.
“And your father?”
Pound shook his head.
The mare blinked. “Oh… well, gosh, I’m sorry. But hey, it’s not safe for you out here. Where do you live?”
“Ponyville.”
“So you’re a refugee?”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“You fled the war?” she clarified.
“Yes.”
“Good. Alright, come on. You can follow me. I work at the military base. You can go wait in the bunker until this whole mess is over.”
The mare led him through the town, and over to a giant building. It had a marble column edifice, and a fountain on its front lawn. Several bronze statues of pegasi military heroes stood in the courtyard.
They walked in through the double doors, and down the hallway. Blue-uniformed pegasi zipped through the halls, responding to the air raid sirens. Finally, Pound reached a set of steel blast doors, over which the word “BUNKER” was written.
The mare unlocked the door, and Pound entered the room. Its walls were grey concrete, and a lone steel bench stood against the wall. The room measured no more than a few meters square. He was alone in the room, save for a few barrels on the back wall.
“Wait here until the sirens stop,” said the mare, running off.
Spitfire hovered high above Ponyville as several hundred pegasi blanketed the air above the town. From her viewpoint, she could see what all of her troops were doing.
In the initial strike, the pegasi dropped bombs on the tents and positions of the unicorns, blowing dozens of them to pieces. Pegasi strafed the remaining unicorns with machine guns, hitting several.
However, many of the unicorns simply vanished in flashes of light as soon as they realized that they were under attack. Soon, there were no unicorns left out in the open, all of them having teleported away.
With many of her troops flying around with no targets, Spitfire convened the officers.
“Alright, these unicorns are tricky with their teleporting. But they couldn’t have just disappeared. They may have retreated, or they may be hiding in buildings in the town. Order your battalions to go door-to-door, starting on the south side of town and working our way north.”
Her officers saluted, but Spitfire saw that, off in the distance, over twenty bi-planes were approaching from the Second Kingdom. They weren’t quite as fast as pegasi, but they would be there in several minutes.
“Send a battalion to engage the unicorn planes! The rest of the battalions, proceed with clearing the town!”
Dozens of pegasi flew off towards the bi-planes, swiftly maneuvering in between them and up and under them, taking shots at the pilots.
A plane’s engine was hit and it exploded, the pilot ejecting to safety while flaming debris rained down on the town of Ponyville. On Spitfire’s further order, the pegasus fighters lured the unicorn planes away from the populated areas.
The dogfight raged for an hour. A few of the pegasi were hit by the large-caliber wing-guns on the planes, but the pegasi losses were minimal compared to the unicorns, who lost ten planes.
“General Spitfire, sitrep!” A pegasus stallion flew up to Spitfire’s position in the air above the town, saluting.
“Yes, sergeant. How goes the battle?” asked Spitfire.
“We’ve cleared out most of the southern farms and suburbs of Ponyville. Our losses have been moderate, though theirs have been severe. We’ve run into a trouble spot in the southwest, though.”
“What is it?”
“One of our scouts has reported that there is a barn on the outskirts of town with dozens of civilian children inside, and it’s heavily guarded by Second Kingdom forces.”
Spitfire’s jaw dropped. “Are they taking civilian hostages? Don’t they know that’s a war crime?”
The sergeant shrugged. “I’m not sure if they’re hostages; we just noticed it on a recon mission. In order to remove the unicorn troops from that barn, we might put the children’s lives in danger.”
Spitfire nodded. “Hold off on it for now.”
“Other than that though, we are making slow but steady progress, sir. If our current progress holds, we should have this town cleared out in a few weeks.”
Spitfire’s eyebrow raised. “Weeks? Why not sooner?”
“We had the element of surprise, but now they’re ready for us. Also, they’re sending more reinforcements from the north.”
“I see,” said Spitfire. “Keep at it, then. Good work, sergeant.”
A slight breeze blew in the frigid air of the mountainside city of Canterlot as the sun hung high in the midday sky. It peeked through a gap in the perpetual clouds, giving the residents a rare glimpse before it would inevitably fall back behind its near-constant cover.
Over the past three weeks since the invasion had begun, the city had geared into full wartime production. Coal miners went to work overtime shifts in the mine shafts near the foot of the mountain, shivering in the frigid tunnels. Factory workers slaved away in the hot factories, busily assembling planes, tanks, and weapons.
In the newly constructed capitol building, King Blueblood sat at a conference room around a table with his closest advisors.
“We’ve been running extra wartime propaganda, putting up posters and radio advertisements to encourage the city residents to work their hardest,” said Fancy Pants, an old stallion wearing a monocle and suit jacket. He served as the Second Kingdom’s chief propaganda minister.
“Very good,” said Blueblood. “We need every able-bodied pony to contribute to the wartime effort.”
“We’ve reported an increase in factory orders, and nearly full employment,” said economic minister Flam. He pointed towards a chart as his brother Flim, economic co-minister, nodded along with him.
“Nopony seems to remember that we were in a recession nearly a month ago,” Flim added.
“That’s nice to hear,” said King Blueblood, smiling. “I was prepared to nationalize more industries, but I now see that it won’t be necessary quite yet. As for our two absent ministers…”
“Magical Research Minister Trixie has reported that she’s progressing well with re-educating young unicorns from Ponyville,” said Fancy Pants. “They’ll soon be shipped up to the Northern Flatlands to begin farming.”
“Good,” said Blueblood. “Our racial self-reliance is a top priority, and if anypony can help ensure it, Trixie can.”
“Hopefully that ends the famines,” said Flam.
“And as for our position on the ground in Ponyville--” Blueblood started, but he was interrupted by a grey-coated unicorn running into the room .
“King Blueblood, your majesty!”
General Top Brass, a dark grey coated stallion who served as the Second Kingdom’s wartime minister, approached Blueblood at the table, bowing.
“Yes, Top Brass? How goes the Ponyville campaign?” Blueblood asked. “Are you still maintaining our hold on that town?”
“We’re fighting for it once again. The pegasi from Cloudsdale have been called in. They’ve proven themselves to be far more of a challenge than Ponyville’s town guard was. We’ve tried our best to hold it for the past two weeks, but are rapidly losing ground, and may soon lose the entire town and other land that we’ve captured.”
“What about our bi-planes? We were supposed to be able to take out the pegasi with those.”
The general shook his head. “Our planes aren’t appearing to be a match for the pegasi. We’ve lost over fifty of them, and only managed to kill a few of the pegasi. They just keep outmaneuvering us and taking out the pilots. Our planes can only fly so fast and can only turn so sharply. The pegasi can zip around, hover, and dodge.”
Blueblood paused for a moment, deep in thought.
The general continued, “At this rate, your majesty, we will lose our hold on Ponyville by tomorrow and will have to make a tactical retreat.”
Blueblood’s brow furrowed.
“Your majesty?”
Finally, Blueblood answered, “General… begin Project Orbit.”
Fancy Pants recoiled, blinking. “Project Orbit was just theoretical! We can’t do it; it would cause too many civilian casualties!”
Blueblood narrowed his eyes. “You seem to forget that this is war, Minister Fancy Pants. You also seem to forget that the civilians affected would merely be pegasi, a trade I’m willing to make.”
He turned back to Top Brass. “You have your orders, general.”
Later that evening, the air raid sirens cut off as the fighting simmered down for the night. Pound Cake got up out of the bunker and wandered through the halls of the military base, looking for someone he could speak to.
“Pound Cake!”
He turned around as he saw Rainbow Dash flying towards him.
“Rainbow Dash?” he asked.
Rainbow Dash picked up Pound Cake and gave him a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re okay! What happened? What are you doing up here?”
“My sister was captured by the unicorns,” he started. “We tried to rescue her, but my parents…”
He paused for a few moments, but Rainbow Dash got the message.
“Yeah. Before she died, my mom told me to head to Cloudsdale where it was safe.”
Rainbow nodded. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Pound. I guess that means that you need new ponies to take care of you. I have some old friends in Cloudsdale, so I’ll see what I can do to find you a new home. But right now, I’m a bit busy. Me and my friends have to deal with something.”
Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake walked outside. Rainbow Dash motioned with her hoof up into the air. Pound Cake looked up and saw what she was pointing at. The moon was enormous. Normally, it would appear to be the size of an Equestrian bit held at hoof’s length. Now, however, it was the size of a melon, and growing.
Military ponies dressed in uniform all gazed up at the sky. Rainbow Dash flew off to join her other five friends, who stood on the courtyard of the base, along with several military ponies in uniform. Pound simply stared up at the moon.
“Twilight, what’s happening?” Rainbow Dash asked.
Twilight shrugged. “I don’t know. Princess Luna says she isn’t the one who’s doing it. She and I have tried using our magic to get the moon back to its correct height, but it won’t work. Our magic can only slow it down, not stop it. It just keeps coming down, like there’s a greater force on it than our magic.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Rarity, “because the only other ponies who can move the moon besides the princesses…”
“Were the ancient unicorns of the first kingdom of Unicornia, yes,” said Twilight. “That was before Princesses Celestia and Luna came along.”
“But what about the Second Kingdom?” asked Fluttershy.
“Think they figured out how to raise the sun and moon?” asked Applejack.
“Quite possibly,” said Twilight Sparkle. “I think I’ll go on a diplomatic mission to Canterlot to discuss this with Blueblood or someone from the Second Kingdom and find out what they want.”
“Silly Twilight, you don’t need to go to Canterlot to talk to them!” Pinkie exclaimed.
“Why not?” Twilight raised an eyebrow.
Pinkie Pie pointed past Twilight’s head. “Because Trixie is right behind you!”
Twilight and her friends glanced behind to see Trixie Lulamoon floating in a hot air balloon near the edge of the clouds. She was no more than ten meters away. She moved the balloon closer to the clouds, and then stepped out. Like Twilight and her friends, she had cast a spell on herself to be able to temporarily walk on clouds.
“Trixie!” Twilight exclaimed. The other military ponies who were gathered turned their gaze towards her, leering at her.
“Ah, yes, Twilight Sparkle and her little friends,” said Trixie, grinning. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Seven years, I believe, back when I still had the alicorn amulet. Meanwhile I’ve got a new position with Blueblood’s government. I see that you’ve advanced in rank as well, Princess Twilight. Tell me, other lesser ponies, how does it feel to be passed up for a royal promotion so that your OCD little unicorn friend could get the job instead? I’ll bet it just tears you up inside.”
“Twilight’s a great princess!” Rainbow stomped her hoof.
“Yes, she deserved it,” said Fluttershy.
“And you five didn’t deserve such an honor as well? You wouldn’t make good princesses, too?” Trixie asked.
“No, we didn’t deserve it! We’d make terrible princesses!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed. Everypony looked at her quizzically, unsure of whether or not she was joking.
Trixie continued, “Sounds to me like Princess Celestia was playing favorites because Twilight here has a horn and can use magic almost as well as I can. Whereas the rest of you are earth ponies or pegasi.”
“Ahem!” Rarity said, pointing to her horn.
Trixie waved a hoof in the air. “Or race traitors. Same difference.”
“Just tell us why you’re here, Trixie,” said Twilight.
“Ah, yes. Well, I’m sure many of you have noticed the moon. You see, our unicorn council has decided that it shouldn’t just be the alicorns who control the moon. Much like how our people elected Blueblood, raising the moon should be done democratically. And since there are far more of us unicorns than there are of just you and Luna, we get to move the moon. And right now, we’ve moved it to a very special place.”
“You ain’t gonna crash the moon into Equestria, are ya? You’d kill everyone on the planet, yourselves included!” Applejack exclaimed.
“She’s right,” said Twilight. “The force of the impact could tear the globe apart at worst. At best, it would release massive clouds of dust into the atmosphere, causing an ice age.”
“No, of course we won’t crash the moon into Equestria. We’re not suicidal,” said Trixie, laughing.
Everypony in the crowd breathed a sigh of relief.
“No, we’re just going to crash it into Cloudsdale.”
“That’s right,” Trixie explained. “Remember, Cloudsdale is fifteen kilometers above the earth’s surface, or nine miles in your antiquated Equestrian units. So if we just crashed it into Cloudsdale, that would only affect Cloudsdale. Other than falling cloud debris and a bit of a temporary mess with the tides, which doesn’t affect the landlocked Second Kingdom, the rest of the planet would be fine.”
“You can’t do that!” exclaimed Twilight.
“Actually, we can. We’re magic, remember?” Trixie chuckled.
“We’ll stop you!” Fluttershy yelled, slamming her hoof onto the cloud below her.
Trixie rolled her eyes. “Oh, how cute. If it’s something that can be stopped, then just try to stop it! Once you try, and after you realize the futility of your efforts, you will then flee your city as it’s reduced to nothing.”
“But all you’re doing is just destroying buildings,” said Rarity. “Everypony will leave before the moon hits.”
“Ah, but you are wrong on both counts,” said Trixie. “Even if you somehow evacuate everypony from Cloudsdale, which for a city of this size would be impossible, you will also lose quite a bit. You’ll lose the Wonderbolts’ training ground, the weather factory for all of Equestria, all the critical military documents in the air base, all the weapons and ammunition in the armory… yes, even if we don’t kill a single pegasus, we still have a strategic victory here.”
Trixie grinned from ear to ear for a few moments before adding, “Unless, of course, you all agree to a ceasefire. In which case, we will leave the moon right where it is.”
“No deal,” said Twilight. “How do we know that the Second Kingdom won’t just break it like you broke the last peace treaty, the one you and Celestia signed where we granted your independence and gave you Canterlot? We’re not making the mistake of trusting you again. This war will end with either Equestria or the Second Kingdom defeated. Preferably, it will end with Canterlot as the proud capital of a unified Equestria once more.”
“I know you have reservations,” said Trixie. “That’s why I asked for a mere ceasefire. It’s a truce, not a treaty. If you agree, which you have until midnight to do, we will pause the moon, you will pause your troops, we will pause ours, and we will keep whatever land we’ve gained under our control, and vice versa. That is, until either side starts shooting again and decides to start this little war back up once more.”
“Still no deal,” said Twilight. “As my military advisors have informed me, your forces are about to lose control of Ponyville. Why would I declare a ceasefire when my side is winning?”
Trixie giggled. “Because if you don’t, the moon crashes into Cloudsdale! You’d sacrifice a city with millions of residents and homes for a town with a few thousand?”
Twilight glanced up at the sky. “I think we can stop the moon.”
Trixie laughed. “I think you can’t. You have until midnight to change your mind. At midnight, the moon will destroy this city. You have been warned.”
Trixie threw down a puff of smoke, then when the smoke cleared, everypony could see that she was back in her hot air balloon flying away.
“Let’s get her!” said Rainbow Dash, rising in the air. She began to dash off towards Trixie, but Applejack grabbed her by the tail.
“Woah now,” said Applejack. “Gettin’ her won’t solve anything. We oughta just stay and figure out a plan.”
“It’s a shame that we don’t have the elements of harmony anymore,” said Rarity. “If we did, we might be able to use them to push back the moon.”
“I doubt it,” said Twilight Sparkle. “The elements don’t work like that.”
“Hey, Pinkie, how come your tail isn’t twitching? The moon’s falling, right? And it’s right over us,” asked Rainbow Dash.
Pinkie raised an eyebrow. “Hey, yeah, I guess the moon is falling, and my tail isn’t twitching! Hmm. Maybe my Pinkie Sense doesn’t work on cataclysmic, slow motion events. Maybe it only works on flower pots and anvils. Who knows?”
“Alright, girls,” said Twilight. “Let’s go get to safety.”
“Pound,” said Rainbow Dash, turning to face him, “come with us.”
Pound followed them as they went back to Twilight’s hot air balloon, as the moon continued its slow descent towards Cloudsdale.
“Will you sign the ceasefire, Twilight? To save Cloudsdale?” Fluttershy asked.
Twilight paused for a moment, and then answered, “I think I may. Though it will buy Blueblood time to put up more defenses in Ponyville, it might also buy us enough time to figure out how to stop the moon. Midnight is only a few hours away.”
“Ah, Princesses Sparkle and Luna. So glad that you could join us here. Ready to sign that ceasefire?” King Blueblood asked, seated at the head of a long conference table in Canterlot.
“Yes, we are,” answered Princess Luna, who had flown in from Manehattan.
“As you can see, even though it is now three o'clock in the morning, we have stopped the moon’s descent and have not destroyed Cloudsdale in a show of good faith, ever since Twilight arrived,” said Blueblood, pointing out the window towards Cloudsdale.
The moon was only a small distance above Cloudsdale. It was so close that ponies could see every detail of the craters and the crevices without needing a telescope. At the time that the moon had stopped, it had been only two hours away from hitting Cloudsdale.
“We have also ordered our troops to stand down,” Blueblood added.
“And we’ve ordered ours to stand down,” said Twilight Sparkle. “This ceasefire will just make it official.”
“Excellent,” said Blueblood, picking up the quill in his magic and signing the ceasefire agreement. Princesses Luna and Twilight did the same.
“Now, I hope you don’t expect this ceasefire to be forever, Blueblood. We fully intend on recapturing both Ponyville and Canterlot someday, bringing thy kingdom to an end,” said Princess Luna, scowling. “We’ll regain control of the moon and save Cloudsdale.”
“You messed up big time by invading, Blueblood,” said Twilight. “You got everything you wanted in that treaty five years ago. You got Canterlot, a unicorns-only kingdom, a lot of farmland, free trade with us… you had it made, but you went and ruined it with this cowardly attack of yours, because you got greedy and wanted more.”
“We will not rest until all of Equestria is reunited and your evil empire is defeated,” Luna said, gesturing around the room with her hoof. “We tolerated its existence before, letting you have your little fiefdom up on the mountainside in our former capital, having your unicorn-only apartheid state right in the middle of our harmonious, integrated nation. But we shall not tolerate it now that you have shown your true colors. History will forever look upon your invasion as a grave mistake.”
“The Second Kingdom is no more ‘apartheid’ than Cloudsdale itself,” said Blueblood. “This war, and the ceasefire, are to my nation’s benefit, and my citizens’ benefit.” “You’re only getting this ceasefire because you were losing and had to resort to a cowardly act like threatening to destroy thousands of civilian homes to not lose Ponyville to our army,” said Twilight.
“Maybe that is why I did it. Or, maybe I am counting on this little ceasefire of ours to last longer than you think. Maybe I expect it to turn into an actual treaty which benefits me.”
“You are delusional, and your dreams of grandeur are rivalled only by your sheer stupidity and pig-headedness,” said Princess Luna. “Whatever treaty you sign, it won’t be with us.”
Blueblood smiled, and simply said, “I don’t expect it to be.”
“So, you just need to press the clutch in, and then pull back on this lever here, and you’ve started the machine. Now, to put it in drive...”
Pumpkin Cake sat in the Apple Family barn, which had been converted into a makeshift schoolhouse in the weeks since the Second Kingdom had taken over Ponyville. Lanterns had been hung from the ceiling, so it was no longer pitch dark.
However, Pumpkin was finding it hard to concentrate in farming class. She still could not get the images of her mother dying out of her mind. She couldn’t forget her mother’s screaming. She couldn’t forget Pound’s offer to go to Cloudsdale with him. She wished she had. It had been her only chance of escape, and she missed it.
She looked at the wall, and supposed that she could always just escape by just walking through. She certainly had no reason to stay, the threat of death to her family having been rendered hollow by their actual death, or, in Pound’s case, their inaccessibility to the unicorns.
However, one simple fact prevented Pumpkin from escaping… she could not use her intangibility spell on her own body, only other things. If she could, that would make escape a rather easy prospect. Any bullets fired at her by guards would just whiz right through her. They couldn’t grab her with their magic, since there would be nothing to grab.
But since she couldn’t use the spell on herself, if she tried to escape, she risked getting shot or just captured again. After seeing what her mother went through, bleeding to death in pain on the ground after Pound had left, getting shot was something she definitely didn’t wanted to risk. Not that it had been before, though.
“Miss Cake?”
She had tried the spell on herself a few times before, but it had simply never worked. The reason for this escaped her. The spell had worked on animals when she tried it on them, even for fairly large ones like dogs. She had never tried it on another pony, but figured it would work on them, too. Maybe it just wouldn’t work on her, since she was the one casting it to begin with. But that didn’t seem right to her, either. Other spells could work on oneself, like teleportation. There was no reason that she could think of that it would be impossible to use an intangibility spell on herself. And yet she could not.
“Miss Cake!”
Pumpkin’s head shot up as Trixie frowned at her.
“I asked you a question. What do you do in the event of your tractor stalling?”
“Uh…” she answered, pausing. “Call a mechanic?”
Trixie shook her head. “No, you try starting it up again, then you check the engine, and if neither of those things work, then you call a mechanic. Otherwise you’re just wasting their time on a simple problem that a little troubleshooting could solve. You really must pay attention to my lectures. See me after class, Ms. Cake.”
The bell rang and the students sauntered out the barn door. They were allowed a few minutes of recess, but were not allowed outside of Sweet Apple Acres. Since the Cake family had attempted their rescue of Pumpkin, security had been tightened; one of the unicorn guards had cast a force field over Sweet Apple Acres to both keep the unicorn fillies and colts in, and to keep any of their parents out.
Since it covered so large an area, it was a rather weak force field which could be shattered by a half dozen or so well-placed bucks from a strong pony, or with a few dozen bullets. But, if it were broken, that would serve as an alarm to let the guards know that somepony had tried to break in or out.
Pumpkin Cake walked up to Trixie’s desk. Trixie spoke, “Pumpkin Cake. I am a great and powerful figure in the Second Kingdom. I am the head of the Department of Magical Research. I normally sit at the council meetings of King Blueblood himself. Do you know what an honor it is for me to be teaching you and the others here?”
“I can only guess,” Pumpkin responded.
“Well, that would be like if the mayor of Ponyville took time out of her busy schedule to shine your horseshoes. I’m only going to be here a few weeks, and then I must get back to my magical research projects at the Department. If you miss out on your education while I am here, there is no second chance. This isn’t like Ponyville Elementary where you can repeat a grade, so you’d better listen.”
“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Pumpkin Cake joked.
Trixie grinned. “No, I won’t personally kill you, but you will starve to death. If you had actually been paying attention, you would know that you are responsible for your own food under the Kingdom’s sharecropping system. We provide you the farm equipment and the land. In exchange, whatever you grow, the Kingdom keeps 99% of, and you may keep one percent. You may sell it for profit or eat it yourself. Which, if you grow an average amount, this will be just enough for you to make a comfortable living off of. Eventually, you may even be able to purchase your own land and equipment and turn a considerable profit. But if you grow nothing, you will eat nothing. We give you food now that you are learning, but will not give you food after the first growing season is complete. There is a famine, after all.”
Pumpkin blinked. “Oh.”
“Now, Miss Cake, I know that your surrogate ‘parents’ died trying to foolishly retrieve you from the custody of the Second Kingdom, but that’s no reason to be upset or not pay attention in class!” Trixie accentuated each word by pointing at Pumpkin with a hoof. “Your surrogates were not true parents; they were less evolved forms of life, and you as a unicorn made a step up the evolutionary chain. You should no more mourn for them than you do for the ancient ponyanderthals who came before you.”
“But I knew my parents.”
“You knew them, yes. But not in the same way as another unicorn. You knew them as you might know a pet, like a dog or a cat. They were familiar to you, but they could never love you in the way that a unicorn could. Tell me, could your parents communicate to you directly through thought alone?”
“Uh… no?” Pumpkin Cake asked, confused.
Trixie chuckled. “Of course not; it was a rhetorical question. Only a unicorn may initiate telepathic connection. Allow me to demonstrate.”
Trixie got out of her chair and walked around the desk towards Pumpkin Cake. Her horn glowed, and she leaned towards Pumpkin Cake. Pumpkin scooted her chair back.
“What?” Trixie asked. “There’s nothing to be worried about. All this allows for is transfer. I can’t read your mind or anything, if that’s what you fear.”
Trixie’s horn glowed once more, and Pumpkin Cake found her horn responding in kind, involuntarily glowing, which got brighter as Trixie came in closer. Finally, when their horns were a quarter-meter apart, a magical arc raced between them, with an appearance closely matching a lightning bolt.
Suddenly, a flood of images came bursting into Pumpkin’s mind. She saw fields of wheat, giant mechanized tractors, seeders, and harvesters all the size of barns, with herself and the other unicorns at the wheel. She saw a giant stack of bits, and a house of her own. It was a large house with a swimming pool and marble columns. She saw images of unicorn ponies sitting down at their dinner tables, eating corn and wheat which she had grown. They smiled at the delicious food.
Between all of these images, Trixie’s thought-voice entered Pumpkin’s mind. “You are such a bright young pony. I can hear it in the way you talk. Don’t you see what your potential is? Don’t you see what you can do if you put your mind to it, apply yourself, and learn? You don’t want your future to end up like this…”
The images changed. Pumpkin saw herself living in a cardboard box by the side of the road in a grimy area of town. A cup weakly floated in her magic as she begged passers-by for bits. She was coughing and sputtering black liquid everywhere. A blizzard blew furiously outside. But nopony would stop to help her. Eventually, she fell to the ground—
“No!” Pumpkin gasped as she jerked her head back, breaking the telepathic arc between them. Trixie’s horn sputtered out, and she glanced up.
“What’s the matter? Don’t like that future? Then apply yourself!” Trixie scolded, pointing her hoof at Pumpkin Cake.
Pumpkin shook in her seat, her eyes widened as she stared off into the distance in silence.
“You’re dismissed,” said Trixie, walking back towards her seat.
Pumpkin raced out to the yard, where the fillies and colts had gathered for recess. There was no playground equipment, so they simply ran around. Many of them sat around, too forlorn at being ripped from their family to do much physical activity. A few of them, though, played tag or threw balls.
Pumpkin Cake walked around, pacing. Poor, homeless, sick… she didn’t want to end up like that. As much as she didn’t think farming was her destiny, she still thought it was preferable to the future that Trixie showed her.
Pumpkin continued walking until she saw her friend.
“Hey, Sunrise Spring?” Pumpkin asked.
Sunrise Spring glanced over in her direction. “Yeah?”
“Were you taking notes in class?”
“Of course.” Sunrise Spring sighed, kicking her hoof in the dirt. “I don’t want to starve, after all.”
Pumpkin paused for a moment, and then asked, “Uh, think I could copy them?”
“Sure, Pumpkin Cake.”
“Alright, Pound Cake. This is Spitfire. She has agreed to look after you until we can find a permanent home for you.”
Pound Cake walked into General Spitfire’s office at the Wonderbolts Command Center with Rainbow Dash, and they both sat down at the two chairs in front of her desk.
“Ah, you must be the kid that Rainbow Dash told me about. Nice to meet you. My name is General Spitfire, but you can just call me Spitfire. I’m only formal when I’m on duty, otherwise I try to be laid back.”
They shook hooves.
“I don’t expect you to call me ‘mom’ or anything like that. I never really wanted to be a parent, and I don’t expect to ever replace the ones you lost. As I’m sure that Rainbow Dash has told you, this will be temporary until we can find you some true foster parents. But, since I have a spare room in my house, I’m more than happy to take you in until then. You can crash at my place so that you’re not homeless.”
Pound smiled. “Thank you, Spitfire.”
Spitfire nodded. “No problem! I know the orphanages are all full because of the war, so I understand your lack of options. But, I do have to warn you… if the Second Kingdom decides to break the ceasefire, you’ll have to find someplace else to stay, because I’ll have to be out in the field commanding the troops. So I hope you understand that this is subject to change at a moment’s notice.”
“I know,” Pound said, sighing.
“Good. Alright, I get off of work in about an hour, so you can go wait outside until I can come out and show you where you’ll be staying.”
Pound walked out into the hallway, sitting down on a bench. He twiddled his hooves together, stared up at the ceiling, and attempted to pass the time as best he could.
Whatever he tried to do, his thoughts continued to return to the reality of his life, of his parents dying. Spitfire seemed like a nice enough pony, but like she said: she could never be a true mother to him.
The door to Spitfire’s office opened and she stepped through, locking it behind her.
“Alright, kid. Let me show you to my place where you’ll be staying.”
She led him out the door of the base and out into the city. The day was unusually dim, as a partial solar eclipse diminished the light coming to Equestria. As per his word, Blueblood had not moved the moon from its place in the sky. Instead, it hung ominously over the city, cloaking it in a surreal shade.
“Okay, I live on the other side of town, so we have to fly for a bit before we get there. I do tend to fly a bit fast, so let me know if you need me to slow down,” she said, taking off into the air. Pound joined her.
“It’s no problem; I fly fast myself,” said Pound.
They flew off towards the other side of town, talking as they flew.
“So, kid, tell me a bit about yourself,” said Spitfire.
“Oh, I used to live in Ponyville, and then the Second Kingdom invaded,” said Pound. “So now I have to live here.”
“Well yeah, I knew that. I mean, tell me something about you. Like, what makes you tick?” she asked, chuckling.
“Well, uh, I like flying,” said Pound Cake, doing a flip mid-air to demonstrate.
“That’s cool. I notice that you don’t have your cutie mark yet. Any interests that you have? What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“No clue. Something involving flying, probably,” he said.
“Ever thought of auditioning for the Wonderbolts?” asked Spitfire, momentarily turning her head towards Pound.
“Yeah, I have. That would be cool.”
Spitfire smiled. “We’re the best flyers in Equestria, and the most elite squadron of the Equestrian Air Force. I’m the captain. I’m also a general in the air force.”
“Oh, neat,” said Pound.
“Yep. It’s a lot of responsibility, but also a lot of fun. But, you have several years of school left until you can join. You gotta be at least fifteen to be in the Wonderbolts.”
“I’m only nine, but I turn ten next month.”
“Yeah, well then you have some growing up to do,” said Spitfire. “You also should train hard if you wanna get in, because the Wonderbolts take only the best.”
“Will I get to fight the Second Kingdom?” asked Pound.
“If we’re still at war with them, then yes,” Spitfire laughed. “I don’t know about that, though. I think this war will be over in a hurry. Blueblood and his generals have made some pretty lousy tactical decisions.”
Pound Cake glanced up at the moon. Spitfire saw him glancing, glanced up at the moon herself, then back at Pound.
She smiled. “Oh, that? That’s just a minor inconvenience.”
“But how will you stop it?”
“Well, we’ve been thinking about that,” said Spitfire. “That’s actually what I was working on today. We might just send all of the pegasi up there to try to lift the moon back up. It’ll take a lot, but if we put everypony in the city on the task, along with the princesses, and every one of Equestria’s unicorns pushed back against it with their magic. we should be able to get Cloudsdale out of harm’s way. It’ll happen soon.”
“Soon? Why don’t you do it now?” asked Pound.
“That’s because we have a ceasefire with Blueblood. If we were to try to move the moon, that would break the ceasefire agreement.”
“How much longer will that last?”
“Who knows? Whenever either side decides to break it. Equestria won’t break it until we’re sure that we can save Cloudsdale from the moon. Blueblood probably won’t break it at all, since he’s the one who asked for it in the first place since he was losing Ponyville.”
“Why does he care about Ponyville so much?” asked Pound.
“Hmm,” said Spitfire. She paused for a moment. “That’s a question that I’ve been asking myself a lot. I don’t know. Other than its central location in Equestria, the town holds little strategic value. He could afford to lose it and still be in good shape. But then he pulls this whole moon stunt, just as he’s about to lose Ponyville. The moon idea is clever, but that’s something that shows desperation, like a cornered animal. I don’t understand it one bit.”
“Does it have to do with them taking my sister?”
Spitfire turned to him puzzlingly. “Your sister? Who’s she?”
“Pumpkin Cake.”
“Is she a pegasus, too?”
Pound shook his head. “No, she’s a unicorn.”
“How are you related, then?” asked Spitfire.
“Our parents are both earth ponies. That’s why they took her. The soldiers barged into our cellar and saw that she had earth pony parents, so they took her to Sweet Apple Acres: that’s the apple farm near Ponyville.”
Spitfire stopped mid-flight. Pound continued to fly for a few moments, but then turned back around.
“Uh, Spitfire…”
Spitfire’s eyes widened. She was obviously suppressing a grin.
“What is it?”
“Of course!” she shouted out. “Unicorn farm labor! That’s why they need Ponyville. That’s why they were holding all those fillies and colts at the barn! Why didn’t I see it before?”
“Huh?” asked Pound Cake.
Spitfire blushed. “Oh, what am I saying. You just lost your parents, and they kidnapped your sister, and here I am making a big deal about it. I’m sorry. I won’t--”
“No, tell me. I want to know why they took her,” said Pound.
“Alright, I’ll tell you. Follow me.”
Spitfire continued to fly, but this time back towards the base. Pound followed by her side once more.
“You know how the Second Kingdom is just for unicorns, right?” Spitfire asked.
“Right,” answered Pound.
“If you need earth pony magic to farm, and there’s no earth ponies in the Second Kingdom, then who farms for them?”
“Uh, I guess no one,” said Pound.
She shook her head. “Nope! Wrong. Unicorns can grow crops, but only if they have enough earth pony blood. That’s why they took your sister. They need her and others like her to farm for them.”
“But how’s she going to do that?” asked Pound.
“With machines. The unicorns have invented machines to do farm labor, and they used them back during the drought of 2014. When Equestria was still united, they used machines to grow crops in the prairie farmlands north of Canterlot, called the Flatlands.”
“Then why do they need my sister?” asked Pound.
“Because, back during the drought six years ago, there were plenty of earth ponies in what is now the Second Kingdom, so they just ran the machines. Since they were earth ponies, it worked fine for them. But ever since the Second Kingdom broke away from Equestria and declared independence, they kicked out all the earth ponies.”
“So where have they been getting their food until now?” asked Pound.
“Through trade with Equestria, and from the few earth-born unicorns living in the Second Kingdom who were willing to farm for them,” said Spitfire. “They’ve been a huge food importer, though, and haven’t been able to grow enough to feed themselves.”
“But now that there’s a war…” Pound started.
“Then trade’s off the table. Our military planners have been scratching their heads wondering what Blueblood will do when the food runs out. He’s been planning for this, but our intelligence says that they have enough stockpiled to feed the population for maybe another year or two until they start to starve. That’s one of the reasons that we don’t think he’ll pose a threat for too long. You can’t field an army if you can’t feed an army. But if he’s kidnapping unicorn fillies and colts who were born to earth pony parents...”
“Then he’ll have more food,” said Pound.
“Exactly.”
“Why doesn’t he just move the unicorn fillies and colts out of Ponyville?” asked Pound.
“He hasn’t had the time, and it hasn’t been safe. The war’s only been going on for a few weeks, and Ponyville has been under attack from the air. He might not have wanted to risk moving them.”
They reached the military compound.
Spitfire turned to Pound. “Pound, wait here. I’ve got to call a meeting to tell everypony about this.”
She flew inside and into the office, where she radioed the top military brass for an urgent meeting.
The officers gathered around the table thirty minutes later.
“Officers,” she said, “I believe I’ve found the Second Kingdom’s ultimate weakness.”
“I met a young pegasus who was on the ground in Ponyville during the invasion. He gave me a good piece of intelligence, and it sheds light on why Blueblood wanted this cease-fire.”
“Because he was losing Ponyville,” answered a General who sat at the military council table.
“Yes, but why was Ponyville important to him? Important enough to sign a ceasefire, and by doing so, show weakness?” asked Spitfire.
Nopony answered.
Spitfire continued, “The Second Kingdom has gathered all of the unicorn fillies and colts with earth pony parents that they could find. They’re all held captive right here in this barn. The Second Kingdom has surrounded the area with a force field.”
Spitfire motioned towards a map of Ponyville and pointed towards Sweet Apple Acres.
“The hostages from the invasion? They were unicorn children?” asked a sergeant.
“Yes,” Spitfire answered. “We just didn’t know it at the time. They need these young fillies and colts to farm for them, and to grow their food. Otherwise, the Second Kingdom has no way of feeding themselves. That’s why Ponyville has such strategic value to them, and why they attacked it first: there’s a lot of earth-born unicorns there.”
“Interesting theory, General Spitfire,” said a blue-coated pegasus sergeant, “but how do we know that the unicorn children are still inside of this barn? They could have easily been moved since the cease-fire was signed. Blueblood would be better served to move them to a more defensible location.”
“Well, Soarin,” Spitfire responded, “that’s the urgency here. Blueblood saw that he was losing Ponyville, and he didn’t want to lose these children when he found that the town surrounded. So, he brought down the moon over Cloudsdale and demanded a cease-fire, to give himself more time to move them. Once they are out of reach of our army, Blueblood no longer needs Ponyville, and he can afford to lose it. Then, that moon will come crashing down, and the war will resume. Since the moon is still up there, it tells me that the children haven’t yet been moved.”
“But he’s had nearly a day to do it,” said Soarin. “Why is he taking his time?”
“He probably doesn’t expect us to break the cease-fire, because the moon is right overhead and he knows we don’t yet have the ability to stop it. There are also likely over a hundred unicorn children. Blueblood doesn’t know that we are onto him, so he wants to keep this farming scheme a secret. Moving dozens of unicorn foals away from Ponyville at once would attract the attention of our spies. He’ll probably move them just a few at a time.”
“So you think this is a secret operation?” asked a lieutenant.
“Yes. Because if we did know about it, it could put the entire future food supply of the Second Kingdom in jeopardy. Only a few ponies likely know about it,” answered Spitfire. “The parents and siblings of the kidnapped unicorns would know, like the pegasus that I met, but they wouldn’t know why.”
“So what do we do with this knowledge?” asked Soarin.
“We tell Blueblood that we know about his plan,” said Spitfire. “We let him know that if he drops the moon on us, we’ll save the unicorn children from him, depriving the Second Kingdom of its food source.”
Around a table in the capitol building in Canterlot, King Blueblood, one of his generals, Princess Twilight Sparkle, and General Spitfire sat.
“So, what brings you back to the negotiating table?” Blueblood asked.
“We are here to elaborate on the terms of the cease fire, to make sure that we are both clear what it entails,” said Twilight.
“I’m listening,” said Blueblood.
“We know about your food shortage. We also know about those unicorns at the barn,” answered Spitfire.
Blueblood flinched. Spitfire smiled.
“Yes, we know about your little kidnapping spree,” said Spitfire, “and, as I recall, the terms of the cease-fire were that neither side could move any military assets. That’s why the moon still hangs above Cloudsdale, yes?”
“...Yes,” Blueblood answered after some time.
“Well, if you were to move any of those unicorn fillies and colts out from behind that force field and away from Ponyville, that would, in our eyes, violate the cease-fire agreement. If the cease-fire is broken, we’ll rescue these unicorns with as many troops as it takes to get them,” said Spitfire.
“And don’t think of moving more troops to guard that barn,” said Twilight. “That would be a violation as well. Only leave the ones you currently have. We will know if you violate these terms. Sweet Apple Acres is right on the edge of the territory you control, so we can easily see troop movements.”
“Alright,” said King Blueblood. “The unicorn children will stay where they are. But just know that getting them away from us alive will be a harder proposition than you think.”
“Alive or dead, we’ll make the rescue attempt. Either alternative is preferable to a life in servitude to you and your kingdom,” said Twilight.
Blueblood said, “Very well. I won’t risk their safety by moving them.”
Canterlot: November 2020
“Our newest economic figures aren’t good at all.”
Flam floated a sheet of paper over towards Blueblood. There were many graphs on the paper, all of them trending downward or remaining flat. Blueblood scanned his eyes over the graphs, frowning.
“I don’t understand,” replied Blueblood.
“Well, we would be getting an economic boost from war production, if that the war were actually still going on instead of in a ceasefire,” said Flim.
“We also are facing increasing food shortages, as you’re well aware,” Flam added.
“Can’t the Zebra Empire pick up production?” asked Blueblood.
“They’re involved in their own war with the griffons,” said Flam. “Their war has disrupted their crops.”
“The Department of Magical Purity is working on bringing in laborers to supply the kingdom with food,” said Trixie. “I have about 120 of the young unicorns. Once we get them trained, we can bring them to the farmlands up north—”
“That won’t be possible anymore,” said Prince Blueblood. “Not without starting up the war again. The Equestrians are onto our plan and have threatened to attack us should we move them.”
“Well, can we at least have them grow food on the farm that they are already staying at?” asked Trixie.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” answered Blueblood.
“Well, then we might be able to get 10% of the output we could get if they had more land to work. I guess it’s better than nothing,” said Trixie. “Though I do wonder how the Equestrians found out about the unicorn fillies and colts that we were holding at Sweet Apple Acres.”
“Considering that we threw down all of our cards on the table over a simple small town, it’s no surprise they figured it out,” Fancy Pants chuckled. “The moon gambit was the wartime equivalent of trimming your hedges when your house is on fire.”
Blueblood glared at him. Fancy Pants shrunk back in his chair and said, “I told you that it wouldn’t be a wise move.”
Top Brass, the grey-coated unicorn general who commanded the armed forces spoke. “Either way, we have less of an advantage that we thought that we did. They’ve shown over the last week that their pegasi can easily take out our planes and attack our ground positions with ease. Magic or no, without a good air strategy, we’re sitting ducks.”
“Any progress on a flight spell, Trixie?” asked Blueblood. “Or, for that matter, any other magical developments?”
“None that look promising,” Trixie responded. “Though we will do it soon. I’m sure that within the next few years, we’ll find a new spell that will fundamentally alter the nature of warfare. Whether it’s flight, indestructible force fields, or something else. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if we came up with something in a few months!”
Blueblood rolled his eyes, as he had heard Trixie say “a few months” half a year ago. However, he knew that she would come up with something eventually, but probably a lot later than she would claim.
Flim spoke, “As your economic advisors, my brother and I advise you to bring back the unicorn fillies and colts as soon as possible, and get them farming. Given the food shortages that we’ve seen, anything will help. Ponies are already complaining about the bread lines.”
“I wouldn’t advise breaking the cease-fire,” said the General. “Not unless you’re prepared for heavy casualties.”
Blueblood remained silent for several moments.
“What about a peace treaty?” asked Fancy Pants. “That will solve the food shortages by allowing trade with Equestria.”
“Not possible,” said the General. “The Equestrians were adamant about getting all of their land back, including Canterlot. A peace treaty won’t work unless we’re winning. We’re in a draw at best.”
“I wouldn’t do it, anyway,” said King Blueblood. “A peace treaty would be admitting defeat. I refuse allowing our unicorn empire to be weak in the face of the lesser races.”
“Then what will we do?” asked Trixie.
Blueblood remained silent for a few moments. Finally, he spoke.
“Though it may not seem so, time is on our side. It’s true that every day that we don’t act, the food grows scarcer, and our food reserves are slipping away. But, every day we don’t act, we develop new magic, new technology, and recruit new ponies for the army. Every day the cease-fire is in effect, the moon still hovers ominously above Cloudsdale, terrorizing the residents of the city, the pegasi troops, and all of Equestria.
“Through this act, we have challenged their faith in the princesses to keep them safe. For eons, the princesses have had a monopoly on control over the celestial bodies. With this single act, the Second Kingdom has shattered this notion and shown that we as a kingdom are just as powerful as them, if not more so. Every day the moon is up there and remains unmoved, the Equestrian citizens’ faith in the princesses is slowly slipping away. Never underestimate the psychological component of warfare.”
“Well, in that case, we just have to hope that their faith in the princesses slips away faster than our food,” said Fancy Pants.
Blueblood grinned. “I’m counting on it.”
Sweet Apple Acres: May 2021
Several months had passed since the cease-fire was signed. Now ten-year-old Pumpkin Cake’s eyes opened from her restless sleep as the rooster crowed, waking her from her bunk in the Sweet Apple Acres barn.
“Up and awake! Over to the machines!”
A maroon-coated unicorn stallion shouted at the fillies and colts as they got out of their bunks.
Pumpkin sighed as she descended the ladder from the bunk and reached the floor. She filed outside along with the other fillies and colts.
Sweet Apple Acres retained its status in name only. The apple trees had all been cut down and were being replaced with wheat, corn, and other crops which could be farmed by machine.
The one hundred and twenty unicorns each took turns on a few dozen machines, gaining experience in operating the farming equipment. Sweet Apple Acres, they were told, was simply for practice until they moved to their real home in the Flatlands north of Canterlot. There, they would have far more land to farm, more work to do, and each unicorn would have his own machines to use.
Today was Pumpkin Cake’s turn on the tractor. She walked over to one of the behemoths and climbed on, shoveling a load of coal into the furnace and turning the key in the ignition as the tractor roared to life. In a minute, she was driving the tractor across the fields, plowing them to prepare them for seeds.
Though not as intense as manual labor, it was still quite an arduous task to operate the tractor. For one, she had to shovel loads of coal into it every now and then to get it to work. Also, the hot sun beat down on her mane, drenching her with sweat. Even with the partial solar eclipse due to the moon over Cloudsdale, the heat was still brutal. Additionally, steering the tractor took a fair bit of effort.
She focused her telekinesis on the wheel, making sure to maintain a straight row as the tractor plowed along. After a long day at this, her horn would be quite tired and achy.
But the labor was not the worst part. Such monotonous work meant that muscle memory took over, and Pumpkin’s mind was free to focus on other things… such as the death of her parents, whether her brother was okay, or the moon which hung above Cloudsdale. She was aware of the cease-fire, having overheard the guards talking about it, and knew that at any moment, the war could resume.
The only times when she got solace from these burning questions was during sleep, but even that was no guarantee. Some nights were full of horrifying nightmares. Some nights were not as bad as nightmares, but still brought fears and doubts. Other nights she would have good dreams in which she was reunited with her family once more, only to be hit with the cold hard reality upon waking. Her favorites were the dreams which were nonsensical and had nothing to do with her current predicament. Those dreams took her mind off of her life, but sadly, were rare.
Pumpkin gazed off to the seemingly endless rows of crops. At the end, she could see the giant force field which the unicorn magicians had erected. Since it was spread out over so large an area, it could easily be broken by plowing a tractor through it, but that would of course alert the guards, who would teleport over to the broken area of the force field within seconds.
She figured that she could just use her magic to walk right through the force field without alerting the guards, and had in fact spent many hours over the last few months contemplating that very thing. The only thing holding her back was her fear of what would happen to her if she were caught. They would want to know how she escaped. They would discover her power, and they would undoubtedly attempt to exploit it for the Second Kingdom’s war effort.
They might make her come with them on some war mission to penetrate some bunker.
“Just turn the walls intangible, and we can walk right in there and kill them all!” She could almost hear them saying. Or “Just use the spell on us and we’ll be invincible to them and their bullets!”
She refused to be party to some one-sided slaughter. She could refuse, of course, but she shuddered to think what could happen if she refused to serve the so-called master race.
Pumpkin Cake had not entirely bought into the notion of unicorn supremacy, but did find some of the philosophy at least somewhat plausible. Over the past months, the equality of the races started to seem to her to be about as silly of an idea. If the unicorns indeed were equal to the other pony races, how could so few unicorns hold such a large continent hostage? Less than a third of ponies were unicorns, after all.
She glanced up at the sky and saw the moon. How could the princesses not stop it? How could the pegasi or the earth ponies not stop it? If superiority were defined by the ability to hold power over others, then the unicorns would win, she figured.
But, of course, if superiority were defined by honor, integrity, trust, love, and other virtues of ponykind, the unicorns were no better than the other pony races. If Blueblood were held up as a shining example of unicorndom, the unicorns would pale in comparison.
But trust and love don’t decide anything, she thought.
She reached the end of the row, right next to the force field. She stopped the tractor.
But I actually do have power. I can put an end to this nightmare. I can wake up.
Pumpkin Cake glanced around. There were no ponies around for as far as she could see.
She looked at the thin, translucent barrier standing between her and freedom. It might as well have been an annoying gnat to be swatted away. Pumpkin jumped off of the tractor. She walked right up to the barrier until she was a hair’s breadth away from it.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She was worried that somehow, a guard would know and instantly come teleporting over, holding a gun up to her head.
A minute passed and nothing of the sort happened.
She powered up her horn.
Maybe she should go back. After all, she didn’t want to be captured and forced to fight for the Second Kingdom. She couldn’t stand the thought of—
Almost involuntarily, her horn glowed as a segment of the force field glowed blue, just large enough for her to pass through.
Her heart continued to pound, but for a different reason; the fear had made way for a sense of overwhelming power. The sensation was a welcome change from the depression and weakness which had dominated her mind over the last many months. She smiled.
Pumpkin Cake reached her hoof towards the force field, sticking it through to the other side. She set her hoof on the ground. She moved the other three, and in a moment, she was completely outside the force field.
She powered down her horn, and the force field returned to normal. Grinning from ear to ear, she continued onward, slipping away from Sweet Apple Acres.
In Cloudsdale, Pound Cake had fared only slightly better than his sister. Unlike Pumpkin, he had school to attend, books to read, and other things to keep his mind off of his predicament. However, in school, he often disrupted class or was aggressive towards his classmates. He often received detention for getting into fights.
Spitfire had been able to spend more time with Pound Cake than she had predicted, as the truce had continued for longer than anypony had expected. So, he had at least a small sense of family.
But also unlike Pumpkin, Pound dealt with the stresses of living in Cloudsdale. The moon still hung overhead like a lead weight.
“Now, the second that you see that moon start to fall, I want you to push through the clouds and head down towards the ground,” Spitfire had told him. “I’ll meet you in the Hoofington town square.”
Pound had hoped against hope that he would never have to abandon his new home. He and Spitfire, like the other residents of Cloudsdale who had chosen not to evacuate, lived on constant pins and needles.
Pound would jolt out of bed most nights, fearing that the worst had happened and the moon had started to fall. He would rush over to his bedroom window and gaze up at the sky… only to see that it had just been a dream and the moon was still the same near-but-never-too-near distance that it had been before.
Other nights, he would awake screaming over the loss of his parents. He still blamed himself for their deaths, and was taking it a lot harder than his sister. Spitfire had gotten him into counselling, and had tried her best to comfort him herself, as inexperienced in raising children as she was.
Of course, Pound was not the only one to have such night terrors or other psychological issues. Even the adult ponies in Cloudsdale had fared little better.
One such pony, Lightning Dust, had just finished reconstructing her home in Cloudsdale after the wendigos destroyed it a few years back in the Wendigo wars. Needless to say, she was not eager to leave.
One day, she sat inside her home with her friends Thunderlane, Flitter, and Cloud Chaser.
“So, I was at work today, right?” Thunderlane said, rolling his eyes and frowning. “My boss says that I gotta file all this paperwork and stay overtime to do it.”
“That’s a bummer,” said Lightning Dust, taking a drag off of a cigarette.
“Like, what, he wants to get it done quickly so that it’ll be organized in time for the moon to crash down and wreck it all?” Thunderlane joked.
They all chuckled.
“Well, Cloud Chaser and I have just been managing the weather,” said Flitter.
“At least, the weather on the Equestrian side,” Cloud Chaser added.
“How do they even control the weather in the Second Kingdom?” asked Thunderlane. “No pegasi, right?”
“I think they use either magic or airplanes when they can, and just let nature run its course when they can’t,” said Flitter.
“Well, either way, they’re trying to live with only unicorns. What even made them want to do that, anyway?” asked Cloud Chaser.
Thunderlane said, “Who knows. I don’t keep up with politics. I will say that it’s weird. Like, Equestria used to be this really peaceful country not even twelve years ago. But then we had Nightmare Moon, then Discord, then the Changelings, then Discord again, then the Wendigos, then the sarin gas attack in Canterlot, then the riots, then the Second Kingdom seceded.” He counted the events off on his feathers. “Am I leaving out anything?”
“I don’t think so,” said Flitter, “but it’s been so hectic that I can’t even remember.”
“Well, after the Second Kingdom seceded, then it was quiet for four years,” said Cloud Chaser.
“Yeah, kinda lulled us into a false sense of security,” Flitter chuckled.
“Yup,” muttered Lightning Dust, exhaling smoke.
“But then,” Thunderlane continued, “the Second Kingdom just up and declares war, takes Ponyville, threatens to destroy Cloudsdale, and now we’ve been in a ceasefire for seven months, and now who knows what’s gonna happen.”
“Mmhmm,” said Flitter and Cloud Chaser.
“Hey, you’re being awful quiet over there, Lightning Dust,” said Cloud Chaser.
“Yeah, what’s up?” asked Flitter.
“Just thinking, is all,” Lightning Dust answered, taking another drag off of her cigarette.
“You know those are bad for you, right?” asked Flitter, eyeing Lightning Dust’s cigarette.
“Eh, whatever,” Lightning Dust scoffed. “Not like I’ll live long enough for smoking to kill me. None of us will. Everything will just turn… to dust.” She stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.
“Was that supposed to be a pun on your name or something?” asked Thunderlane, chuckling.
“No, just a hard reality,” said Lightning Dust. “The Wendigoes destroyed my home four years ago. Just last year, I rebuilt it. And now, the moon will fall as sure as I’m sitting here, and leave me homeless again. And to think that I was upset when the Wonderbolts kicked me out so many years ago. That was peanuts compared to what I’ve faced since then.”
Lightning Dust chuckled nervously, walked over to the window, and gazed out, looking up at the moon.
“You know why your boss had you do paperwork, Thunderlane? Normalcy. He wants to feel like he’s in control of something, that something being you, because it gives him a sense of normalcy despite everything that’s happening. Like everything is okay and we don’t have this giant rock hanging over us. But it’s fantasy. I can just see it now. My home, my life, even my sanity… after the moon hits, just slipping away…”
A tear fell down her cheek.
“And I just wanna find some way to end this. I just have this sliver of hope that…” she sobbed. “...That somehow, against all odds, things will turn out okay for Cloudsdale. That we can live normal lives, no matter what happens down on the ground.”
Her friends walked over to her and gave her a hug.
“I think we all feel that way right now,” said Thunderlane. Flitter and Cloud Chaser nodded their heads in silent agreement.
Pound Cake screamed as he woke up once more, thrashing and ripping the sheets from off his sweaty body.
“No!” he shouted. “Not again!”
He opened his eyes and realized that he was back in his bed in Spitfire’s house.
His door slammed open as Spitfire burst in. “Pound Cake? What’s up?”
“I’m having nightmares again,” said Pound Cake.
“More bad dreams about your parents?”
Pound Cake silently nodded.
“Well, I’m sorry, buddy,” said Spitfire. “Hey, why don’t you try to go back to sleep and we can talk about it in the morning?”
“What if the nightmares come back?”
“Well, I’ll sleep right here by your side,” said Spitfire. She got into bed next to Pound Cake and they fell asleep.
Thankfully, his nightmares did not return. He awoke and went to the kitchen, and found that Spitfire had fixed him toast and eggs for breakfast.
Like most of the meals that she had tried to make him, this one was badly burnt, but he appreciated that she was trying. He grabbed a knife in his hoof and scraped the burnt residue off of his toast.
“Heh, sorry about that,” said Spitfire.
“It’s okay. You know, you don’t even have to cook for me. I’ll just eat some cereal or something.”
“But I want to make sure that you have a good breakfast and don’t have to eat cereal every morning,” said Spitfire.
“Well, thanks,” said Pound.
“Now, let’s talk some more about your nightmares. What has your therapist told you about it?”
“She’s told me that I need to let go and move on. She said I can’t blame myself for their deaths: that it wasn’t my fault. But… I mean, how can I not blame myself?”
“I don’t know, Pound; you’ve never told me,” said Spitfire. Pound hadn’t been able to tell anypony what happened. There was too much guilt there.
“Well, my sister, Pumpkin, was taken by the Second Kingdom and put into a barn.”
“Yes, I know that part.”
“What you don’t know is that we tried to rescue her from them, and that I messed it all up,” said Pound.
“How did you mess it up?” asked Spitfire.
“Well, we were going to sneak Pumpkin Cake out in a barrel. My mother had gotten into the barn because we told them we were delivering pies. My dad had a rifle that he fired at the side of the barn to lure the guards away. But then, as I was up in the air, I heard a bunch of screaming. The other fillies and colts in the barn were making noise. One of the guards came back. I saw him lift up a rifle and point it inside the barn.”
“So he was about to shoot your mother?” Spitfire asked. “How can you blame yourself—”
“No, you don’t understand. He wasn’t about to shoot her. I dive-bombed down at him, and then right as I hit him, I heard him say ‘carry on then.’ I hit him, and it made him shoot Mommy.”
“Oh.”
“And then another guard came in, saw us, and then he shot her again, in the stomach, and it killed her.”
“Well…” said Spitfire.
“My mom told me to go back to the bakery, but I didn’t. I wanted to help, but I ruined the plan.”
Spitfire paused for a moment, looking off into space. Then, she looked back at Pound Cake.
“Pound,” Spitfire said gently, “your therapist is right. You need to move on. You don’t need to let their deaths hold you back or make you depressed.”
“Yeah,” said Pound.
“But, I disagree with her that it wasn’t your fault. It was your fault. If you had obeyed your mother’s orders, then she wouldn’t have died. The guard would have walked away without shooting her. Your rash decision caused her death.”
Pound blinked. Tears formed in his eyes as he realized that Spitfire was right. He finally acknowledged the truth he had hid from himself for so long..
Spitfire continued, “I say that not because I want you to beat yourself up over it, but because I want you to learn from it. I love you, Pound.”
Pound smiled. She had never told him that before.
“But part of love is honestly. I could sugar-coat it like your psychologist does, and lie to you and tell you that your recklessness was okay and had nothing to do with your mother’s death, but that won’t help you at all. Your mind knows that there’s a contradiction, and won’t accept lies. That’s why you’re still having night terrors.
“What will help you is to learn from your mistake and move on, don’t beat yourself up over it, and become a stronger pony for it.”
“But how can I do that?” asked Pound Cake.
“I can help you. I can teach you. You’ll get over your guilt by getting over what caused her death: your impulsiveness. You have a streak of rashness; I see it in you. Do you know how I see it?”
“How?” he asked.
“Because I’m just like you. I have a reckless streak myself. Why do you think I’m named Spitfire?”
“Because your mane looks like it’s on fire?” asked Pound.
“That’s part of it, and my name does have a double-meaning,” Spitfire chuckled, “but I’m also very short-tempered. I get excited easily. Back when I was your age, I’d mouth off to my teachers and end up in detention, just like you. I used to get into fights with ponies at school, just like you. I pulled crazy flight stunts that almost got me killed, just like you. But do you know what I did?”
“What?” asked Pound.
“I learned to control it. I learned discipline. In fact, I learned it so well that I’m now one of the greatest flyers in Equestria, the captain of the Wonderbolts, and a general in the Equestrian air force.”
“Wow.”
“Wow is right,” said Spitfire, smiling. “You said that you wanted to be a great flyer, and that you might want to join the Wonderbolts someday. Well, you may be a decent flyer. You’re good at keeping up with me when we fly around town. But most of the flight tricks and advanced techniques come with years of training and practice.
“You need discipline in order to train your wings and your body every day for years. You need discipline to fly as fast as I can, to maneuver in-between enemies and buildings at a hundred miles an hour. You also need discipline to follow orders, and more importantly, to know when the correct time is to strike during combat. If you want to be in the Wonderbolts, you have to follow orders.
“If you can’t follow orders, you can’t join. I kicked out a young mare named Lightning Dust years ago because she was like you are now: too rash and too reckless. You can be like her, or you can be like me. I’m not your real mother, so I won’t force you to do anything. But, if you want me to, I can teach you discipline, and I can teach you everything about flying that I know. I can make you into a stallion.”
Pound Cake said, “I want to be disciplined.”
Spitfire smiled. “Good. Then your first lesson starts immediately.”
She grabbed another piece of burnt toast out of the toaster and gave it to Pound.
“I’m not hungry,” said Pound.
“Eat it anyways. You need the energy for flying. At the end of the day, you’ll be exhausted.”
Pound grabbed the knife and started to scrape the burnt residue off of the toast, but Spitfire grabbed the knife back from him and placed it on the counter.
“No time for that. Eat it how it is. You think the Wonderbolts or the Equestrian Air Force serve tasty food all the time? Nope. Most of it’s just grade-D slop that not even hogs will eat.”
Pound forced the burnt toast down his throat.
“Good. Now, we’re going out into the yard. But first, I need to grab something.”
Spitfire dashed out of the kitchen, leaving Pound by himself. She returned a few moments later, carrying a giant cement block in her hooves.
Pound looked at her quizzically. “What’s that for?”
Spitfire grinned. “I’ll tell you when we get into the yard. Here, catch.”
Spitfire tossed the block to Pound, who tried to hold it in his hooves, but ended up dropping it.
“Wow. That’s heavy.”
“Yep. And you’re going to carry it right out into the center of the yard.”
Pound grabbed onto the block with all four of his hooves, and vigorously flapped his wings as he struggled to move forward. Spitfire opened the glass door in front of him, and he continued outside, slowly inching along. Finally, he was in the center of the yard. He set the cement block down on the clouds. Surprisingly, it didn’t fall through the clouds.
Spitfire glanced up from her stopwatch. “When I get through with you, you’ll be carrying that block from the kitchen and out here in five seconds.”
Pound’s jaw dropped in disbelief.
“Now, I want you to drop to the ground and give me twenty wing push-ups, and twenty hoof push-ups.”
“But that’s forty—”
“Did I stutter?”
Pound dropped to the ground and did as he was told. Several minutes later, he finished his last push-up, dropping back to the ground with a thud, exhausted.
“Now. I want you to fly up into the air until I tell you to stop.”
Pound picked himself up on the ground, and flapped his tired wings until he was a hundred meters off the ground. Spitfire flew up to join him.
“Now, you were wondering what that cement block is for?”
“Yes.”
“You will fly down and break it.”
“What!?” Pound Cake said. “But that’s impossible! Not even an earth pony could break that block! I’d break every bone in my body before I—”
Spitfire dashed downward towards the cloud on which the block stood. Pound heard an incredible crack as the concrete block split right in two. A shockwave emanated from the block, pushing him back a bit in the air.
His jaw dropped as words escaped him. Spitfire dashed back up to Pound.
“When I get done with you,” she said, “you will break that block.”
Pumpkin Cake was ecstatic as she walked down the street towards Ponyville. She felt lighter than air. Her head was spinning. She had done it. She’d escaped from the ponies who had held her captive for the past six months.
And she didn’t have a clue where she would go.
Pumpkin Cake stopped in her tracks as she saw two unicorn soldiers off in the distance. She saw some bushes on the side of the path and jumped in them, concealing herself. The soldiers passed by without noticing her.
Relieved, she emerged from the bushes once more. She continued towards the town, but stopped. She saw hundreds of tents off in the distance, set up all around Ponyville. The town was crawling with Second Kingdom forces. If she went into town, she’d be spotted for sure.
Pumpkin glanced back away from the trail. She figured that her best bet would be to hide in the woods. Where she would go from there, she had no idea. Preferably to someplace not under Second Kingdom control.
Pumpkin continued in the woods for several hours until she became quite lost. The canopy of the trees blackened the sky, and she could hardly see in front of her. She shuddered to think what the forest would be like at night.
Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks as she noticed a blue flower on the path in front of her. Then, she recalled a story that Pinkie Pie had told her about a mischievous flower with blue leaves called poison joke which only grew in the Everfree Forest.
Pumpkin’s head jolted up. She was in the Everfree Forest, one of the most dangerous places in Equestria. She didn’t even realize how she had gotten there.
“Awoooo!”
Pumpkin Cake heard howling off in the distance. She continued walking, avoiding the poison joke, and looking for someplace to stay where she would be safe from the timberwolves.
“Awoooooooo!”
The howling became closer. Her mane stood on end. She jogged at a brisk pace, hoping that she would find a cave to hide in or a tree that looked like she could climb it. But all of the trees that she saw looked like their branches were too brittle, or were covered in fire ants, deadly spiders, or poison ivy.
“Awoooooooooooooo!”
The howling was so loud that it shook her bones. She turned around and discovered, to her horror, that she could see a timberwolf off in the distance, and it was coming towards her.
“Aaaaah!” This time, Pumpkin Cake did scream, not caring who heard it. She sprinted away, running through trees and vines and bushes to get away from the wolf.
She could hear the wolf tearing through the bushes and trees to get to her. For a moment, she thought that she might be doomed. However, she found that she could see a small hut off in the distance.
“Thank Celestia!” she exclaimed. She continued sprinting towards the cottage, navigating her way through trees and bushes as fast as she could. However, just as she was a few dozen meters away from the hut, she tripped and fell on a vine.
“Oof!” she grunted as she fell head first into the dirt. She stood to get back up, but noticed that the vine was now entangled around her body. The vine wrapped around her, constricting her as if it were an animal.
She could see the wolf closing in on her. Thinking quickly, she cast an intangibility spell on the vine and freed herself from it. However, in the time it took her to get back onto her hooves, the timberwolf had already arrived.
“Awooo!” the wolf cried, coming to a halt and swatting at Pumpkin Cake with a claw. She yelped in pain as it left a deep gash in her side.
She focused her horn on the wolf, trying to turn it intangible. Due to the wolf’s size, the spell worked for just a few moments before wearing off, but that was all the time she needed to run away and get a head start on the now incredibly confused wolf.
She made a mad dash towards the cottage, and the wolf, solid once again, regained his bearings and dashed after her.
Pumpkin’s horn powered up as she ran right through the wall of the hut. She quickly powered her horn down as the wolf slammed into the now-solid wall.
The timberwolf yelped in pain. Pumpkin Cake could hear scratching at the wall as the confused wolf tried to get through the wall in vain.
Pumpkin giggled, and then winced in pain from her scratch. Suddenly, she heard hoofsteps. She froze in place as she saw a shadow from around the corner.
Zecora rounded the corner, and her eyes widened in shock as she saw Pumpkin Cake.
“Pumpkin Cake, my dear. How in Equestria did you get in here? All of my doors are locked, and I did not hear you knock. My windows are still closed, yet you are here as if you are a ghost.”
“Oh, hi, Zecora. I didn’t know you lived in this hut,” said Pumpkin Cake. She knew Zecora from having seen her around Ponyville. The two of them had talked a few times before.
“Uh, let me take a rest for a minute, and then I’ll tell you everything,” said Pumpkin Cake. Zecora nodded, and they both sat down in her living room. Zecora fixed a pot of tea, and they both drank. After about ten minutes or so, Pumpkin spoke.
“To answer you, how I got in here: I can walk through walls. There was a timberwolf chasing me, so I just came in here by turning the wall intangible.”
“Is that so? How is it I didn’t know?”
“I don’t really go around telling ponies about my intangibility spell. I hardly ever use it, either. Especially now that the Second Kingdom is around. If they knew I had this power, they might try to get me to use it to help them. So could you please keep it a secret?”
Zecora nodded. “Yes. As a secret, it is wise to bear. From what I hear, your spell is rare.”
“That’s what Twilight told me. You know, it’s funny. I never had much use for the spell before the Second Kingdom came. I mostly just used it to play hide and seek with Pound. But today, after I escaped from them, I’ve been using it like crazy.”
“Speaking of your brother Pound. When I come into town, why do I not see him around?”
Pumpkin blushed. “Well, he left Ponyville… I could have gone with him, but I didn’t. Both of our parents died. I was worried about who would take care of us. I was worried I’d be killed, or that he would. I guess I was too scared.”
Zecora raised an eyebrow. “Scared, with a power like the one you have? Being scared would be plain mad! Nothing on this entire earth could hurt you; with your spell it would pass right through.”
“Well, it has limits.”
“Tell me,” Zecora said.
“Well, I can use it on anything… but myself. So I can still be shot, or scratched.”
She showed Zecora the scratch. Zecora grabbed a bandage and applied it to the scratch. Thankfully, it was just a surface scratch, and would heal quickly.
Pumpkin continued, “Also, it doesn’t work for very long on big things, like the timberwolf. I could only use it on him for maybe five seconds.”
“I see,” Zecora replied.
“So really, the power’s not as useful as you’d guess,” said Pumpkin.
Zecora laughed. Pumpkin raised her eyebrow.
“You talk down your power, which is not wise to do. Your power has only one limit: you. Like all things, it must be trained. Then you will be less afraid.”
“So, you mean that if I wanted to, if I really practiced, I could do things like turn myself intangible just like I do everything else? That I could make my spell last longer on large things like wolves or other ponies?”
“That, and very much more. You have no idea what you have in store.”
Pumpkin’s eyes lit up. “Can you teach me?”
Zecora chuckled. “I thought you’d never ask! Let us train; and we start with a simple task.”
Zecora motioned for Pumpkin Cake to follow her. Zecora walked off to a different room of the cottage. She opened a door, and motioned for Pumpkin to walk in. The room was mostly barren, with only a few pieces of furniture. It was large and circular, about eight meters in diameter. There was a stool in the middle of the room, which Zecora motioned towards. Pumpkin sat down in the stool as Zecora reached into a cupboard and grabbed a bottle with her hoof. The bottle was several liters in size, and filled with a blue liquid.
“Now, in this room here, you will face your fear,” said Zecora.
“Face my fear? What do you mean?”
Zecora walked around the room, splashed the liquid everywhere around the room besides on Pumpkin Cake, then walked over to the door. She walked out, closing it.
“Zecora? What am I supposed to be—”
Suddenly, the entire room burst into flames. A ring of fire erupted all around the room, engulfing everything except for the center where Pumpkin Cake sat.
“Zecora! Zecora!” she cried out.
There was no answer. Meanwhile, the flames continued to lap at the walls and floor of the room. Pumpkin gulped. If she didn’t do something, she’d burn alive!
She frantically looked around for an exit. For anything. But she was surrounded. Flames engulfed the floor everywhere around her.
Pumpkin Cake focused her intangibility spell on a small part of the floor, trying to create a path between herself and the doorway, but then she realized that if she walked on it, she’d fall right through the floor and into the ground. She powered her horn down.
The smell of smoke assaulted her nose as she realized that, if she didn’t burn, she’d suffocate. A wave of terror overcame her.
“Zecora! Help me!” she cried out. Once again, there was no answer.
Pumpkin looked up at the ceiling, and towards the doorway. Maybe if she levitated herself over the flames, she could reach the doorway.
Her horn powered up as a blue field of telekinetic magic surrounded her, and she lifted a few centimeters off the ground. However, she struggled under her own weight, as telekinesis of heavy objects was never her strong suit. If she weighed less, or was still a foal, she could have done it. Her horn ached and cried out in pain from the magical strain. She turned off the levitation spell and fell to the ground once more.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she felt the walls closing in. She’d burn to death. She’d die in horrible agony. Unless… unless she could turn herself intangible and walk through the flames. She had never done it before, but maybe she could do it now that her life depended on it.
But what if I can never turn back? What if I’m stuck like that forever? What if it hurts? What if it kills me? What if I fall through the floor? What if—
She stopped herself. The timberwolf had lived and seemed just fine. Any fate her intangibility spell could bring would be better than death.
Pumpkin stood up and approached the flame, the heat warming her coat.
“Here goes…” she said.
She powered up her horn once more, except this time, she directed the spell inward. It might not work. It never had worked before. Why should it work now, even when—
The fire’s heat disappeared. The pain from her scratch disappeared. The feel of the floor beneath her hooves disappeared. Every single tactile sensation disappeared. Even the sensation of gravity disappeared; she felt entirely weightless.
Pumpkin Cake gazed down at her body. She was glowing cyan. It had worked.
She took a step forward. It was a bit awkward, as she had no physical feedback to know that her muscles were moving. But, she could still see it.
She placed her hoof onto the ground where the fire was. She had no idea why she didn’t fall right through the floor, but wasn’t about to start questioning that. She continued through the fire until she reached the door, then she walked through the door itself.
Pumpkin Cake looked behind herself, then let out a laugh. What had she been so worried about, anyway? She hadn’t died; here she was as alive as ever. She hadn’t fallen through the floor; somehow she was able to traverse it. Being intangible hadn’t hurt; in fact the absence of all physical sensation felt rather pleasant. Every one of her fears had been completely unfounded.
She noticed that she was still intangible, and in fact had been casting the spell for nearly a minute without even thinking about it. Surely her horn would be protesting by now. Then, she remembered that there were no touch sensations while she was like this. She’d better turn back, lest she overwork herself.
She turned off the spell. A sharp pain shot through her forehead and horn, and through her side where the scratch was, as she phased back into existence.
I guess I shouldn’t do that for too long, or else I’ll pay for it later, she thought, rubbing her head with her hoof.
She looked up as Zecora walked down the hallway towards her.
“Zecora! I did it! I used the spell on myself and made it through the fire… and… are you crazy? I could have been burned alive! What were you thinking setting that room on fire?”
Zecora chuckled. “The flames were just a clever ruse. They never could have actually hurt you.”
She opened the door to the room and walked in. She walked straight into the fire, and then stomped it out with her hoof. Her mane didn’t catch on fire despite her being right inside of it. Soon, she had put out the entire room.
“Wait, so the fire wasn’t real?”
“It looks like fire, makes smoke, and gets hot. Can it burn you or my house? It can not.”
“So it’s just like real fire in all but the burn?”
Zecora nodded.
“But why did you do that?”
“You see your power as a thing to fear. I knew that you would be brave if you thought your death was near.”
“Well, it worked,” said Pumpkin Cake, shuddering at her near-death experience. “So, what else do you have to teach me?”
“Many things, Pumpkin Cake. But before we do so, let’s take a break.”
Lightning Dust soared through the air over Cloudsdale. The perpetual dimness of the day cloaked in the moon’s shadow covered the land, and hung in her mind like a fog. She had always felt free and alive while flying a year ago. But this past year, with the moon hanging over Cloudsdale, flying had only partially eased her life’s harsh realities.
It was inevitable. The moon would crash into Cloudsdale, destroying her home, destroying the only city that she had ever known. It was just a matter of when.
She stopped in mid-air, hovering as she gazed up at the rocky, cratered surface of the moon. There really was no way to stop it. The pegasi couldn’t fly up there and catch it; the atmosphere was too thin. There weren’t enough unicorns in Equestria to counteract the unicorns in the Second Kingdom.
Then, her gaze was drawn towards the mountainside city of Canterlot. Those Second Kingdom unicorns: this was their fault. They abandoned Equestria in its darkest hour, and then came back years later, when Equestria was just about to heal, and threatened to smash it once more.
How could her fellow ponies be so destructive? Why were they so adamant? Did they not know that they had been putting her and millions of other Equestrians through terror for the last year? Or did they know, but their leaders were too stubborn to want peace?
They have to be stopped. Before the war resumes. It’s the only way.
King Blueblood sat on his throne, reading a letter. He was flanked by two bodyguards who stared straight ahead with stony gazes, levitating rifles in front of them.
“Crown Royal,” Blueblood said, motioning towards one of his servants who stood by the door.
“Yes, your Majesty?” the pony answered.
“Please fetch me a pen and paper.”
“Right away, your Majesty,” the pony said, bowing. He turned around to exit.
Suddenly, a window in Blueblood’s chamber smashed open as glass shattered everywhere. Blueblood’s bodyguards turned to face it, but a gold and aquamarine blur knocked them both to the ground before they could draw their weapons.
Lightning Dust snatched one of the guard’s weapons, grabbed it in her hooves, and pointed it at Prince Blueblood.
“You!” she screamed at him. He threw his hooves up into the air, shrinking back on his throne. The other guard drew his weapon and pointed it at Lightning Dust. Two additional guards rushed through the door to Blueblood’s chamber, pointing their rifles at Lightning Dust.
“Drop the weapons or your king gets it!” she yelled at them.
“Do as she says,” said Blueblood. The guards obliged, lowering their weapons.
“You’ve held Cloudsdale under your hoof for long enough! If you value your life, you’ll raise the moon back into the sky and leave us alone!”
Blueblood blinked several times, raising an eyebrow. He waited several seconds before finally realizing that he was not dreaming, gathered his thoughts, and spoke.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t do that. There’s a war going on. If I move the moon, I lose my advantage, and the Equestrians will break the truce. Surely you know this.”
Lightning Dust shouted, “Forget the war! There are ponies who’ve suffered for the last year in sheer terror, worrying every day whether or not you’d destroy their homes and their lives with the moon. They’ve been wondering whether or not they’d wake up dead, and it’s gone on for long enough! It’s time for peace, or I’ll kill you!”
Blueblood narrowed his eyes, leering at Lightning Dust. He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. Then, he looked off in the distance, as if pondering something.
Lightning Dust paused for a moment, and then answered, “I am. How did you know?”
Blueblood chuckled. “I knew I recognized that voice of yours. You were the one who introduced the idea of the ivory tower tax on Canterlot, back when the Second Kingdom was still part of Equestria.”
A year after Twilight Sparkle’s coronation, Discord went on a rampage throughout Equestria, causing famines in Ponyville and other cities, creating wildfires, and driving a herd of wendigoes to nearly destroy Cloudsdale. Canterlot remained mostly unscathed during this, and Lightning Dust and other ponies felt that the rich elite in Canterlot were not paying their fair share to help their fellow citizens rebuild.
So, she led an angry mob to march on Princess Celestia’s palace, demanding that the princess pass a so-called ‘ivory tower tax’ on Canterlot, and that the revenue be used to rebuild Cloudsdale, Ponyville, and other Discord-ravaged areas of Equestria. The tax passed, and was highly unpopular in Canterlot, particularly with unicorns, who felt that it was discriminatory towards their race.
“Yes, the tax was my idea,” said Lightning Dust. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Blueblood smiled. “Well, Miss Dust, I never properly thanked you. Were it not for your advocacy for a tax on unicorns and our city of Canterlot, I might never have been able to form the Second Kingdom.”
Lightning Dust’s jaw dropped. Blueblood grinned.
“Oh, yes. You didn’t know? I seized on the popular unicorn sentiment against that ivory tower tax of yours and used it to sweep into power. Granted, there were many other issues at play, but without such an unpopular tax for me to rally against, it would’ve been a lot harder for me to win an election. So, even though that tax was a crime against the unicorn race, I still thank you.”
Blueblood stood up out of his throne and gave Lightning Dust a bow, smiling devilishly.
Lightning Dust stammered, “B-but t-that tax was supposed to help Cloudsdale rebuild from Discord’s devastation—”
“Oh, and yes, that’s how you sold it to ponies. For the common good. After all, who would support a tax sold under a racist banner of disproportionately attacking unicorns? Nopony—besides the princesses, perhaps—even though that was exactly what it did. But when you disguised it as a tax to help rebuild, who could’ve opposed it? It was quite the clever political move, I’ll admit.
“It was just like how Celestia sold all of her magical laws and restrictions on unicorns under the guise of public safety. We couldn’t have our own cities like the pegasi have Cloudsdale, we couldn’t raise the sun and moon as we used to centuries ago, we couldn’t legally learn or use certain spells, all for ‘public safety.’ But in reality, it was all part of a systematic effort to enslave our race to inferior ponies. For a superior being to be enslaved to an inferior one is a crime against nature and science. It’s a contradiction. So, we rightfully took our independence.”
“So, if it weren’t for me…” started Lightning Dust, her hooves trembling as she held the rifle to Blueblood.
“Yes. Without you, it’s quite possible that I might not be in this throne room right now.”
Lightning Dust pulled back the safety and aimed down the barrel. “Well, it’s time to fix my mistake!”
Blueblood chuckled. “You honestly think that taking me out will have any sort of effect? This movement is bigger than me now. It’s an entire nation. If you kill me, there will be others who will rise to take my place.”
“Yeah, but it’d sure make me feel better,” Lightning Dust scoffed.
“You know what would make you feel even better than that, though?”
Lightning Dust remained silent, holding her rifle steady.
“If you could prevent the moon from destroying Cloudsdale. And I know how you can.”
Lightning Dust glanced up, looking Blueblood in the eyes.
“...How?”
“Simple. If Cloudsdale were its own independent nation, it could forge a separate peace with the Second Kingdom. Our war is with Equestria, and our designs are on the land earth ponies occupy, and the unicorns they have stolen from us. But as a ground-dwelling race, the unicorns have no use for the pegasi cities.”
Lightning Dust said, “There’s no way Cloudsdale could secede from Equestria like the Second Kingdom did.”
Blueblood smiled. “Oh yes, there is. In fact, I can tell you exactly how you can personally lead a successful secession of the skyward city. But first, you must put down the gun so that we can have an actual discussion like civilized ponies.”
“Why would I do that?” asked Lightning Dust.
“Well, it will make me feel better, because my life won’t be hanging on your itchy trigger hoof. It will make you feel better because you’ll know that I’m sincere and not just saying these things so you won’t kill me. Also, as I have already established, there are many more unicorns who would eagerly take my place. I am but one head of your dreaded hydra.”
Lightning Dust lowered her weapon slightly, but still kept it trained on Blueblood.
Blueblood asked, “So, do we have a deal?”
Lightning Dust paused for a moment, and then set the gun down on the ground. Blueblood’s guards rushed towards Lightning Dust to restrain her, but Blueblood held up his hoof.
“Now, now, gentlecolts. Miss Dust and I had a deal. Please leave the two of us alone. You are to take her rifle, but leave her here with me.”
“But, your highness, she might attack you.”
Blueblood furrowed his brow. “Did I stutter? And are you questioning my magical ability to defend myself from some pegasus ruffian?”
“...No, your majesty.”
“I thought so. You’re dismissed.”
The unicorn guard bowed quickly, took the rifle in his magic, and left the room along with the others.
“Now, where were we?” asked Blueblood. “Ah, yes. The only way that Cloudsdale will be saved is if it secedes from Equestria and forges a separate peace with the Second Kingdom. Now, as a politically aware and active mare, you could help to facilitate that. And I, as a politically experienced leader, can give you the tools that you need.”
“For Cloudsdale to declare independence? But they’re joined to Equestria, and—”
“Wrong,” said Blueblood. “Let me explain. But let’s go to a room more conducive for discussion.”
Blueblood and Lightning Dust sat inside of Blueblood’s conference room. A guard stood outside the doorway, but other than him, the two were alone.
“Can I smoke in here?” asked Lightning Dust, removing a pack of cigarettes from behind her wing.
Blueblood rolled his eyes. “Though I discourage unicorns from taking up the habit, if the pegasi wish to kill themselves, that’s your business. By all means.”
“Thanks, I guess,” Lightning Dust chuckled as she lit the cigarette. Blueblood’s horn flashed as an ashtray appeared on the table.
“Now, do you know why Canterlot and the Second Kingdom declared independence from Equestria, as a unicorn-only kingdom?” Blueblood asked.
“Because you didn’t want to pay the ivory tower tax that I lobbied for,” said Lightning Dust.
“That’s part of it,” Blueblood answered. “But it was that and a combination of other things. As I mentioned, Princess Celestia had instituted many magical laws and decrees which the unicorns felt put them at a disadvantage and disenfranchised them. For instance, she locked up many magic spells in the Canterlot Archives. She took away our sun-raising privileges soon after she came to power. She also prohibited the unicorns from having their own cities like the pegasi have Cloudsdale.
“Add that to a revelation by Discord. He played an audio recording of her saying that she never really trusted the unicorn race to begin with. Then there was the ivory tower tax, and all these things led to an entire unicorn-majority city feeling disenfranchised. I seized upon these sentiments and rose to power through them. Do you understand?”
Lightning Dust remained silent for a few moments as she pondered what the king had said. She took another drag of her cigarette. Finally, she responded, “Yes, that sounds unfair from the unicorns’ point of view.”
“Now you begin to see!” exclaimed Blueblood, his eyes lighting up. “Any group that feels disenfranchised or misrepresented for long enough can be led by a strong leader to seek a better deal. In the case of Cloudsdale, I believe that you can rise to the occasion and be that leader for them.”
“But how would I do that?” asked Lightning Dust.
Blueblood smiled. “The same way that you so passionately argued for the ivory tower tax, but with more foresight, more planning, and more finesse. You are a great speaker and a passionate young mare, Lightning Dust. Even though I vehemently disagreed with your fiscal policy, I admired your public speaking ability and debate skills. However, you lack the wisdom to advocate for your positions beyond an angry mob caught up in the heat of the moment. You need the wisdom to turn that mob into a legitimate political movement. I can help you gain the wisdom. I can present to you a compelling argument to use.”
“I’m listening,” said Lightning Dust, exhaling smoke.
“Very well,” said Blueblood, leaning back in his chair.
He gestured with his hoof. “Let me paint you a picture. As a resident of Cloudsdale, you surely can empathize with these words. The moon has hung over your heads like an ominous thundercloud for this past year as a consequence of the war and subsequent truce. Cloudsdale has sacrificed the lives of hundreds of pegasi troops, who have an air advantage over the unicorns.”
“Right,” said Lightning Dust.
“So, my question to you, Miss Dust, is this: what does Cloudsdale get in return? Why must your city sacrifice its young pegasi to die in battles fought with ground-dwelling unicorns, for cities on the ground? Remember, the Second Kingdom has no use for your cloud cities.”
Without delay, Lightning Dust answered, “It’s because we’re all Equestrians, of course. We have to all look out for each other as fellow ponies. That’s why I wanted the ivory tower tax. So that ponies in Canterlot—which Discord didn’t ravage—could pay to reconstruct the other areas he did ravage.”
Blueblood chuckled. “That would be a compelling argument if your give-and-take philosophy ever had a ‘give.’ But the pegasi in Cloudsdale are being exploited by the rest of Equestria with nothing given in return, just as Equestria exploited Canterlot through the ivory tower tax before we seceded.
“Let’s say Cloudsdale’s position were reversed, and they were the ones in dire straits, as they were several years ago. You say that Equestrians all have to look out for each other as fellow ponies, yes? So then, where were the earth ponies fighting off the Windigoes when Discord led them on their invasion of Cloudsdale?”
“They weren’t there,” said Lightning Dust. “But earth ponies can’t fly. The only way earth ponies would be called into battle to defend Cloudsdale is if Equestria had airplanes like your kingdom does.”
“But you don’t,” said Blueblood.
“Right, because we have the pegasi,” said Lightning Dust.
“So,” said Blueblood, chuckling, “when it comes to Equestrians all looking out for one another, this arrangement seems to never benefit the pegasi in Cloudsdale, but always benefits the earth ponies on the ground who need air support.”
“I guess so,” said Lightning Dust.
Blueblood responded, “The pegasi are expected to die for their country no matter where the conflict occurs. The earth ponies, on the other hoof, are only expected to die for their country when the battles just so happen to take place on the ground. This is a blatant contradiction, and it leads to the exploitation of Cloudsdale.”
Lightning Dust remained silent for several moments. Finally, she responded, “Yes, I guess I never thought of it that way. But what are you getting at, though? I can’t just go back to Cloudsdale and preach the same racist speeches that you give, but with the word ‘unicorn’ swapped out for ‘pegasi.’ I’ll be called a traitor. Besides, I don’t even dislike earth ponies like you do.”
“But I’m not asking you to do that, Miss Dust,” said Blueblood. “Back when you argued for it, you never cast the ivory tower tax on Canterlot in a racial light, even though it disproportionately affected unicorns. The princesses never cast the magic restrictions in a racial light, even though they only affected unicorns.”
“True,” Lightning Dust acknowledged as she stubbed out her cigarette.
“What you ought to do is paint the picture of injustice and unfairness, because you are quite good at that. Argue for non-contradiction: equality of the earth and sky. Think about it. Not only has Cloudsdale sacrificed air troops for nothing in return, but as soon as the the truce is inevitably broken, Cloudsdale itself will cease to exist. And for what? So that the ponies on the ground can keep their small hamlet of Ponyville? A town on the ground of a few thousand, in exchange for a city in the sky of hundreds of thousands? Rather than barging into my throne room threatening to kill me, you should have done the same to your own princess!”
“Well, maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t, or else we wouldn’t even be having this conversation,” Lightning Dust chuckled.
“Fair point, Miss Dust.”
Lightning Dust asked, “Okay, so I tell ponies that there’s a contradiction. But then what? What if they still feel loyalty to Equestria? What if even their fear of losing their homes isn’t enough to make them want to secede? And how do I deal with the generals and the top brass of the Wonderbolts, like Spitfire or Soarin? They’d never abandon Equestria; they’d fight to the death to keep Cloudsdale as part of Equestria. Fear won’t sway them.”
“Well, you don’t need all of the top brass,” said Blueblood. “You just need a few generals loyal to your position, like I had when the Second Kingdom seceded. But you’re right that generals and military ponies are tougher nuts to crack. They’re trained to deal with fear. But they’re not trained to deal with dishonor, and orders to attack their own citizens. And for that, I have a juicy piece of intelligence to share with you.”
Lightning Dust leaned forward.
Blueblood said, “As part of the Second Kingdom’s racial independence initiative, we have captured a group of a hundred or so young unicorns. These unicorns are to supply the Second Kingdom with food so that we will no longer have to rely on Equestria.”
Lightning Dust raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that unicorns could farm.”
“Yes, but only if they have earth pony parents,” said Blueblood. “But those unicorns are usually only found in small farming towns with a history of racial intermingling. That’s why we invaded Ponyville, among other reasons.”
“Oh,” said Lightning Dust.
“Anyway,” Blueblood continued, “we’re currently holding the unicorn children at a barn called Sweet Apple Acres in Ponyville. Now, the Equestrians have caught onto this, and they’ve threatened us. If we move these children at all, or as soon as the war resumes, whichever comes first: they will drop a bomb on the barn and kill everypony inside. By doing this, they hope to cripple our food supply and starve us into submission.”
Lightning Dust’s jaw hung open as she blinked several times.
“Yes, Equestria will kill a hundred of its own children simply to try to cripple the Second Kingdom. Not that this strategy would ever work, anyway; we have backup plans.”
Blueblood used his magic to open a briefcase. He pulled out a photograph, and floated it over to Lightning Dust. The photograph depicted the 120 unicorns inside the barn.
Finally, Lightning Dust spoke.
“I can hardly believe it. I thought that the princesses would never stand for killing children.”
“They have no moral code besides one rule: do anything to stay in power,” said Blueblood. “Other than that, nothing is important to them. I established the Second Kingdom to allow the superior unicorn race to flourish in independence from the princess’ whims and designs of eternal power. Perhaps you will give Cloudsdale the same opportunity.”
“Let’s hope,” said Lightning Dust.
Blueblood stood up. “I’ve planted the seeds of sedition well enough. Good luck on your quest, Miss Dust.”
“Thanks,” said Lightning Dust. She took the photograph, walked out the doorway, and flew off into the air back towards Cloudsdale.
Blueblood waved goodbye to her as he grinned from ear to ear.
Lightning Dust sat inside of her house with Flitter, Cloud Chaser, and Thunderlane. They all stared at the photograph sitting on the coffee table.
“I still can’t believe it,” said Cloud Chaser.
“It does seem unbelievable,” Thunderlane added.
“Pfft,” Cloud Chaser scoffed, pointing with her hoof towards the picture. “It doesn’t prove anything, anyway. I mean, it’s just a picture.”
“But a picture is worth a thousand words,” Flitter responded.
“And those? Those gotta be worth at least two, maybe even three thousand,” Thunderlane noted.
“But look at it, though. So, it’s a bunch of unicorns. Someone could’ve just taken a photograph at a school in Canterlot. It doesn’t prove anything,” said Cloud Chaser, picking up the photograph.
Inside of a barn, five rows of twenty young unicorns each stood. If any of them knew who she was, they could have noticed Pumpkin Cake in the photograph, as it was taken before she escaped.
All the unicorns in the picture had somber looks on their faces. Their flanks with the special brand on them were not visible in the photograph, though it almost didn’t matter. The young unicorns looked more like a funeral procession than a classroom. Beside them, two armed guards levitating assault rifles stood, stony gazes upon their faces.
“Since when do armed guards stand around schools?” asked Flitter, pointing with her hoof towards a guard in the photograph.
“Well, I don’t know, maybe they’ve had a lot of school shootings or magic attacks or whatever the crazy ponies do over there in the Second Kingdom. Maybe that’s made them beef up security?” Cloud Chaser guessed.
“Yeah, sure, they beefed up their security for their school in a barn,” Thunderlane quipped.
“I don’t know,” Cloud Chaser said. “Having school in a barn is odd, but still doesn’t prove anything, to me at least. Okay, so there’s a bunch of unicorn fillies and colts in a barn in Ponyville. Let’s assume that’s true. Even so, how do we know that Equestria plans on bombing them?”
Everypony remained silent.
Cloud Chaser held up her hooves in the air. “Don’t get me wrong, it would be terrible if our military was planning on killing over a hundred children. I wouldn’t stand for it, and I think hardly anypony would. But it’s kind of a stretch to assume that just because this barn is here, and just because the Second Kingdom is holding all those unicorns hostage, Equestria plans on killing them all just to get an advantage. I just don’t see Luna or Twilight Sparkle signing off on it.”
Nopony responded until Lightning Dust finally said, “There’s one way to know for sure. Thunderlane, you’re in the Wonderbolts, right?”
“I am,” Thunderlane said. “That’s why I don’t believe that we could ever kill a bunch of children. It’s a war crime.”
“Do you go back on duty soon?” asked Lightning Dust.
Thunderlane nodded. “I’m on leave right now, but I go back in January.”
Lightning Dust said, “Well, ask your superior about the barn, and ask what they plan on doing. They probably won’t outright admit to anything, but you can read faces, right?”
“I’m decent at it.”
“So then you’ll have a good idea of whether or not they plan on bombing the barn.”
Thunderlane shrugged. “I don’t know how much good it will do, but it’s worth a shot. Cloud Chaser is right. Just this photograph alone isn’t much proof.”
“Alright, then. Go get us the proof!” Lightning Dust ordered.
Thunderlane nodded.
January 2022
Thunderlane walked down the hallway at the Wonderbolt base in Cloudsdale. He stared down, glaring at the reflections of the hall lights on the polished floor rather than bothering to look straight ahead as a military officer ought to. He paused every five steps or so to brush his mane off of his forehead.
Thunderlane sighed, a knot at the pit of his stomach. As part of the Equestrian Air Force, the Wonderbolts were a very regimented organization. The top brass frowned upon ponies who went around questioning orders. They were even more upset if ponies got access to confidential information that they weren’t supposed to have. Needless to say, what Thunderlane was about to do had the potential to send his superiors fuming. A serious reprimand wasn’t out of the question.
Hopefully, though, Thunderlane’s plan wouldn’t make him appear to be insubordinate.
He finally reached General Soarin’s office, gulped, and knocked.
“Come in.”
He placed his hoof on the doorknob. After taking a deep breath, he opened it.
Soarin glanced up from his desk and put down the feather pen that he was writing with.
He smiled. “Ah, Lieutenant Thunderlane. What brings you to my office today?”
Thunderlane removed his cap, walked over to the chair, and sat down in it.
“General Soarin, I am honored to serve with Equestria’s most elite flyers here in the Wonderbolts, and I want you to know that there’s nothing else that I’d rather do…”
“Mmhmm,” Soarin muttered, nonchalantly returning to his writing.
“So please do know that I don’t say what I have to say lightly.”
“Yes, yes. Spit it out, Lieutenant!” Soarin urged, a look of annoyance on his face. “I have pressing matters to attend to, you know.”
“Well, sir. There’s this barn on the edge of Ponyville, the area currently under Second Kingdom control ever since the ceasefire.”
“Our scouts have informed me of this, yes,” said Soarin. “What about it?”
Thunderlane gulped. “Well, sir… there are over a hundred young unicorn fillies and colts held prisoner there, to my knowledge.”
“Yes, our scouts have informed me of this as well,” Soarin sighed, rolling his eyes. “How about you tell me something that I don’t know, Lieutenant Thunderlane?”
Thunderlane remained silent for a few seconds, and then finally he spoke. “Sir, I’ve heard… whispers… that these unicorn fillies and colts are part of a rare breed of unicorn who can farm. That they’re being trained to operate farming machinery to meet the food needs of the Second Kingdom.”
This time, it was General Soarin who was silent.
Thunderlane continued, “Given that these young unicorns are a high-value strategic target, I’ve heard a rumor through the grapevine. I have a friend who has spoken to King Blueblood, and apparently Blueblood knows about an Equestrian plan to bomb the barn with these unicorns, thus depriving the Second Kingdom of potential food in an effort to starve them out. Is Blueblood right?”
General Soarin’s eyes widened as all of the color drained from his face. A brief flash of fear shown on his face, but was almost immediately replaced by a stone cold gaze which could intimidate Death himself.
“Lieutenant Thunderlane,” he whispered, leaning forward in his chair until his face was but a few centimeters from Thunderlane’s own. “I don’t know who told Blueblood this information, or who told you. Whoever it is will no longer be wearing a uniform by the end of the week. The contents of that barn, as well as any potential plans by the Equestrian air force, are classified, and I order you to keep it that way. I also order you to file an incident report detailing exactly where you heard this information.”
“B-b-but sir… do you r-really plan on k-killing over a hundred Equestrian children? Please tell me that you’d at least try to rescue them first--”
“I will neither confirm nor deny this. You already know too much. You are dismissed, Lieutenant Thunderlane.”
“But sir, we could never--”
“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant Thunderlane!” General Soarin repeated, slamming his hoof on the table.
“Sir, yes sir!” said Thunderlane, putting his cap back on and hurrying out the door, slamming it behind him.
Soarin leaned back in his desk, sighing. He finished writing his letter, then stood up, put on his cap, and headed down the hallway.
He knocked on a door.
“Come in.”
Soarin entered and saluted.
“General Spitfire.”
“General Soarin. What is it?”
“We have a breach of Level One confidential information. A lieutenant told me that he heard rumors about Operation Barn Buster.”
Spitfire blinked. “Get Princesses Twilight and Luna here immediately. We need to hold a meeting.”
Later that day, after Thunderlane had finished his shift, he walked down the hallway, dazed. The reality of his earlier conversation slowly sunk in. It was all true. The Equestrian generals planned on bombing the barn, after all.
How could they do such a thing? Crippling the Second Kingdom or not, killing a hundred children constituted a grave war crime. Though General Soarin hadn’t explicitly confirmed that this was a plan, he hadn’t denied it, either.
No, there had to be another explanation. Anything but what he just heard.
He turned around, and glanced General Soarin and Spitfire walking down the hallway together at a brisk pace, entering a conference room.
Protocol be damned. He needed to know what they were planning. Perhaps Spitfire would be more willing to tell him. He rushed down the hallway to meet them. Thunderlane stood outside the door to the conference room and tried the handle. It wouldn’t budge. He looked around. There was nopony else in the hallway. He started to walk back to where he came from.
But then his eyes were drawn up towards the ceiling.
Generals Soarin and Spitfire entered the conference room, sitting down. Princesses Twilight and Luna were already there seated, waiting to meet them.
“We have a grave situation. There may be a spy in our midst,” said General Soarin.
“What’s the problem?” asked Twilight Sparkle.
“King Blueblood knows about Operation Barn Buster,” said General Soarin.
The group remained silent, and Spitfire quietly nodded her head.
“What?” asked Princess Luna, leaning forward in her chair. “But that plan was supposed to be top-secret.”
“Only the four of us know about it,” said Twilight. “Unless the spy is hiding in this room, or unless any of you told anypony, there’s no way that Blueblood would know that we plan to bomb the barn.”
“Maybe he just made a lucky guess, and happened to be right,” said General Spitfire. “Killing a bunch of children is more his M.O. than ours, but since he’s one to think that way anyways… he might assume the worst of us.”
“And be correct,” she added under her breath, frowning.
“We did not make this decision lightly, General Spitfire,” said Princess Luna. “You were there for the meeting.”
General Soarin said, “We’ve been over this. Our planners have looked at it, and there’s no feasible way of rescuing these unicorn children without sustaining heavy casualties ourselves. The barn is heavily fortified and guarded. Any rescue attempt would become a suicide mission that would endanger all of their lives regardless, while also putting our troops at risk. Who knows how brainwashed these children have been, and how many of them would sympathize with the Second Kingdom, and would try to fight back?
“Say we did do a rescue mission. If the rescue attempt failed, which would be likely, then Blueblood would be able to simply move the unicorn children further into his own territory, and make it impossible for us to attempt a rescue of them at all. Then, he’d have a steady food supply for his kingdom, and could drag this war on for years. With the barn, we know where they all are right now, and have the chance to strike.
“Even if we do rescue them and reunite them with their families in Ponyville, what’s there to prevent Blueblood from capturing them once more if he ever recaptures Ponyville? A bomb or two would do the trick much more efficiently, and forever put these unicorns out of his reach. It would deal a serious blow to his kingdom, and hopefully bring this war to a close much sooner. By doing this, we would save hundreds of thousands of lives, much more than the mere hundreds we sacrifice.”
“It’s mass murder!” General Spitfire exclaimed, throwing her hooves in the air. “I didn’t like it when we decided on it, and I don’t like it now!”
“None of us wants to do this,” said Twilight Sparkle. “But it’s the only way. It’s also not what he’s expecting us to do, and he wouldn’t be prepared for it like he would a rescue… or at least, we didn’t think so, until we found out he’s onto us.”
“General Spitfire, you haven’t told anypony about this plan, have you?” Princess Luna asked.
“What? No! I may be against it, but I’m not a traitor,” said Spitfire.
“It must’ve been a lucky guess, then,” said General Soarin.
“So what do we do now?” asked Twilight Sparkle.
Soarin shrugged. “He may know about the plan, but he can’t do much about it. He can’t move the children without violating the cease fire, and he knows we’re keeping a close eye on Sweet Apple Acres. As soon as the war resumes, we’ll carry out Operation Barn Buster, but we’ll just have to be aware that he will know our pegasus bombers are coming and take extra safety measures.”
“Agreed,” said Princess Luna. Twilight Sparkle nodded, and Spitfire leaned back in her chair, gazing off into space.
Thunderlane’s heart pounded in his chest. He hoped that the thumping of his heartbeat wouldn’t give him away. As the four ponies continued to discuss war matters, Thunderlane crawled back through the air duct, having heard what he needed to hear.
Lightning Dust and her friends all sat around in Cloud Chaser and Flitter’s house.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Cloud Chaser.
“It’s all true. Blueblood’s right. They’re going to bomb the barn as soon as the war’s back on,” said Thunderlane.
“I wonder how Blueblood knew?” asked Lightning Dust.
“He wouldn’t have known. He just took a shot in the dark when he told you that,” said Thunderlane. “Soarin, Spitfire, Twilight, and Luna all were shocked. None of them let it leak, and they were the only ones who knew to begin with.”
“Why did he tell you that, anyway?” asked Flitter. “You never told us how you got to talk to him or anything. All you told us was that he told you this and gave you the photograph. When and how did you even meet him?”
“Well, funny story,” said Lightning Dust. “I was actually planning on assassinating him. I burst through his throne room, pointed a gun at his head, and was about to pull the trigger… but then he convinced me not to. We had a little chat, and he gave me this photograph and told me that I should be mad at Equestria’s leadership instead of him.”
“Oh, well that makes sense,” said Flitter.
“Yeah,” said Cloud Chaser. “I’m sure that the five-year-old that you tested that fake story on totally believed it! Come on, Lightning Dust. Quit jerking us around.”
“Alright, fine,” Lightning Dust conceded. “I demanded that he sign a peace treaty, but he told me that the only way that there’d be peace would be if Cloudsdale split off from Equestria and made a separate peace. This photograph was ammunition for the secession.”
“I’m game,” said Thunderlane. Flitter and Cloud Chaser looked at him with their jaws open.
“What?” he asked, shrugging. “I refuse to be part of a military and a nation that kills children indiscriminately. I don’t care if it’s part of some strategy to cripple the Second Kingdom or not. I’m sure that using chemical weapons on them would cripple them too, but it’s a war crime. If Cloudsdale wants to break off, that’s fine with me. I don’t want to be in the Equestrian military anymore.”
“But we have to stick together,” said Flitter and Cloud Chaser in unison.
“You mean just like how Ponyville’s soldiers came to our aid when the Wendigos attacked years ago? Or how they want to sacrifice Cloudsdale to the moon to save Ponyville? That sort of sticking together?” Lightning Dust scoffed.
“She’s right,” said Thunderlane. “Cloudsdale’s always been a military town, and I guess I’ve been taking for granted that the Princesses were going to sacrifice our city to save the ponies on the ground below, in some sort of trade-off… and I was okay with it then, but now it turns out that the ponies on the ground will be sacrificed too!”
“Yup,” said Lightning Dust. “Well, I’m off to speak to the newsponies over at the Cloudsdale Courier. Thunderlane and I are going to get this on the front page by tomorrow.”
Thunderlane nodded, and they both walked out the door.
Spitfire’s head spun as she sat at her breakfast table, reading the morning paper.
The Cloudsdale Courier January 4th, 2022
WAR CRIMES PLOTTED BY PRINCESSES
Princesses Luna, Twilight, and two of the Wonderbolts’ top generals have plotted to kill dozens of Equestrian children in Second Kingdom-occupied Ponyville, an unnamed whistleblower told the Cloudsdale Courier.
Pictured here is a photograph of the one hundred and twenty young unicorn fillies and colts in a Ponyville barn, whom the Princesses planned to slaughter with a bomb in “Operation Barn Buster.” The unicorns are part of a Second Kingdom plot to increase farming output by using mechanized--
Spitfire couldn’t read any more. She placed down the paper, taking a sip of coffee.
“Spitfire, what’s up?”
She glanced up to see Pound Cake walking over to the table.
“See for yourself,” Spitfire said flatly, moving the paper over to Pound Cake.
Pound Cake read the article, his eyes widening.
“That’s my sister in that picture!” he said, pointing with his hoof towards Pumpkin Cake.
“You guys were going to KILL PUMPKIN!? Kill all those unicorns?” Pound Cake screamed, throwing the paper back onto the table.
Spitfire nodded. “I tried to tell the others on the military council that it wasn’t the right thing to do. They wouldn’t listen. They just wanted to go ahead with this plan. I think they still might do it. They’re so adamant that this will ‘save Equestria’ and ‘save thousands more lives than it kills.’ But will it really save us? Or will it just make us as bad as Blueblood?”
Her eyes watered as she held back tears.
“I have to go save her. She can’t be in there when the bomb hits!” cried Pound Cake.
“Pound Cake, stop. You’re not going to go and storm that barn again. Remember how it went last time?”
Pound nodded.
“Well, imagine twice as much security, and you’ve got Sweet Apple Acres right now. It’s practically a fortress now, and trying to get in would be a suicide mission. Not even our military thinks that they can safely rescue everypony, and they’re trained soldiers. Besides, you don’t even know if she’ll be there. You’d be taking a shot in the dark. If you go to the barn, she might be out in the fields while you’re trying to storm the barn. Or this could be an old photograph, and she could’ve escaped since it was taken. Didn’t you tell me that she could walk through walls or something?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if she’s brave enough. She wouldn’t escape with me when she had the chance, and I’m her own brother.”
Spitfire shrugged. “Ponies change. I know I have. A year ago, I would’ve signed off on this mission without batting an eye. I think I even told Blueblood during our truce talks that death was better than serving him and his kingdom. But having you here… it’s kind of changed my point of view. I’d never hurt a kid. I couldn’t, not after knowing you. And you’ve changed, too. I’ve been training you, and you’re much more disciplined now. Too disciplined to go on a suicide mission. Pumpkin could’ve changed. She could’ve worked up the courage and gotten away.”
“But you don’t know that,” said Pound Cake. “She could still be there, and she could die when we drop the bomb!”
“You’re right, Pound. I don’t know that. But I do know that we can’t control what happens to her, or if we drop the bomb. Not even I can stop the bomb. What I won’t have is you flying off to your death. You’re too important to me.”
Pound silently nodded, and hugged Spitfire.
“This is beautiful!” Blueblood chuckled, levitating the newspaper in his magic. “I couldn’t have planned it any better if I wrote the article myself.”
“A whistleblower, huh?” said General Top Brass. “That’s terrific!”
“As for the bomb, our magicians have been beefing up Sweet Apple Acres’ force field defenses. We’ve also been reinforcing the inside of the barn with steel and concrete. It can withstand a bomb blast or two, which should give us enough time to evacuate them.” said Trixie.
“Speaking of, Trixie,” said Blueblood, “a few months ago, you told me that a young filly went missing. Any luck finding her? Or finding out how she went missing, or if she deliberately escaped?”
“No luck, your highness. I have no idea how she would have gotten past the force field without breaking it,” Trixie responded. “Even if she’d known how to teleport, that wouldn’t have worked for escaping a force field. We checked the perimeter, and there’s no sign of her having dug a hole under it, either. She’s quite the escape artist. But no matter. We’ve shored up our defenses and have yet to lose any more of the young unicorns since she vanished.”
“That’s good to hear,” Blueblood responded. “I trust it won’t happen again.”
“So, what do we do now?” asked Fancy Pants.
“Now?” said Blueblood, leaning back in his chair. “We wait.”
The mid-afternoon sun beat down on the clearing in the Everfree Forest in which Zecora’s hut stood. Inside, Pumpkin Cake and Zecora sat in the living room. Zecora sat at a desk, mixing up another potion. Pumpkin lay on the couch reading a book.
For the past six months, Pumpkin Cake had lived with Zecora, helping her out with her potions in exchange for magical education. Zecora now had a pony to help her out with grabbing herbs, leaves, berries, and other ingredients that she needed in her brews, and twelve-year-old Pumpkin Cake now had a magic teacher.
Pumpkin Cake had learned a few more useful spells since Zecora had started training her. She could now use her horn as a source of light, and could teleport short distances. Though she was still lacking in telekinesis compared to other unicorns her age, she had improved since Zecora had started teaching her. She could use a few dowsing and locating spells, which came in handy when searching for potion ingredients. She had also gotten much better at her intangibility spell, which she’d spent most of her time training. She could now cast it for more time and on larger objects.
As for Zecora’s potions, they were all quite useful. Since Zecora and Pumpkin lived alone, they had no access to medicines, vitamins, or other remedies. They both relied on her alchemical knowledge to keep themselves healthy. Zecora also was quite generous with her brews, and every now and then a pony would wander into the forest hurt or injured and asking for a cure, which she was happy to provide.
Zecora busily attended to her alchemy, using a pestle and mortar to grind up ingredients, where she mixed them into a small vial on her desk. This particular potion had taken her several hours to decant and properly mix. The ingredients had taken weeks to gather. The potion was quite useful: one sip could cure any ailment from the common cold to the pony pox, from the trots to cancer.
Bubbles fizzled in the bright purple mixture as Zecora stirred it with a stirring stick. She glanced over at her potion book. Her eyes widened.
“Oh dear. It seems I don’t have all I need here.”
Pumpkin Cake glanced up from her book, placing it down on the couch.
“What’s the matter, Zecora?” she asked.
“Pumpkin Cake, I have something for you to do. I need another ingredient for my brew.”
“What is it?”
“The potion needs a special dreg: the shell of a manticore’s egg.”
Pumpkin blinked. “I didn’t know that manticores laid eggs.”
Zecora nodded, still stirring the potion. “There is a mother manticore living in a cave. She’s due north of here, only three miles away.”
“Alright, let’s go,” said Pumpkin Cake, walking over to grab her jacket.
Zecora held up her hoof. “I cannot go with you, I’m afraid. This potion requires me to stay. If I do not stir and stir until I add the eggs, then this entire potion will separate and go to waste. Now make haste.”
Zecora pointed towards her potion ingredient book. Pumpkin glanced at it and saw what Zecora meant: if the potion was not constantly stirred, it would separate out into its component parts once more, like oil floating to the top of water. And as the bright red letters on the page warned, the potion ingredients could not be reused once this happened. Given that it had already required several rare ingredients, Zecora had a sense of urgency.
Pumpkin Cake raised her eyebrow. “Why didn’t we just get this ingredient before you started mixing the potion?”
“It must have slipped my mind. The other ingredients took so long to find. This one, though, will be a cinch. Just don’t find yourself in a pinch.”
“I’ll go find the egg,” Pumpkin said. She put on her jacket, and left the door of the hut.
“Be careful out there,” said Zecora. “Wait until the mother manticore has left her lair. Then, sneak in and grab the eggs from there. Try to be back before the night hour, or else this potion will go sour.”
Pumpkin Cake nodded and walked out the door.
Pumpkin Cake was still a bit nervous about going off into the Everfree Forest alone, though nowhere near as scared as the first time that she did it. By now, she was experienced enough to venture out into the forest alone, and Zecora had already accompanied her on many errands to make sure that she could handle herself.
Pumpkin Cake walked due north for several kilometers, navigating through the thickets and bushes. About half an hour later, she came across a small stream about ten meters across. It was too deep to wade in, but she found some fallen boulders to skip across on.
When Pumpkin Cake got to the far side of the river, she realized that she’d forgotten her saddlebags. She debated whether or not she should go back to get them. However, she didn’t want to waste the time. The potion needed the eggs as soon as possible, or else it would be worthless. All she needed was to pick up a few eggs, anyway. She could easily carry them in her magic rather than saddlebags.
As soon as she thought that she was near the manticore’s den, she powered up her horn. It glowed a dim blue, lighting up the shady forest floor beneath the thick canopy. She was using a location spell; with it, she would know the eggs’ general area. Her horn’s glow increased in intensity as she walked further north.
A few minutes later, her horn was glowing quite brightly as she made her way to a steep hill. She meandered around, wading through tall grass, ferns, and bushes as she finally reached her destination: a large cave in the hillside.
She figured that this must be the manticore’s den. Her horn hadn’t glowed this brightly during her entire journey, and this was the only cave around. Pumpkin Cake glanced inside the cave, her horn still glowing. The mother manticore was sleeping, its snores loudly echoing.
Pumpkin Cake figured she’d just wait for the manticore to wake up and leave its den. It couldn’t take that long, could it? She walked a few meters away from the cave entrance and hid behind a bush, patiently waiting.
An hour later, Pumpkin Cake could still hear snoring. The sun was just barely above the western horizon. In an hour, it would be nightfall. Manticores weren’t nocturnal, Pumpkin recalled from Zecora’s teachings, so it would probably sleep there for the rest of the night. If she wanted to get the eggs, she’d have to go in now.
She walked over to the cave entrance, her hooves trembling slightly. Though she could shield herself from all harm with her intangibility spell, the spell still had its limits. She was far from invincible. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the dark cave, her horn lighting the way. She set her hooves down on the ground slowly and carefully, making sure not to make a sound.
Suddenly, she heard a loud roar. She glanced around and saw the mother manticore, who had woken from its slumber. The beast bared its claws, standing on its hind legs. It towered high above her, nearly reaching the ceiling of the cave.
Pumpkin Cake cast her intangibility spell on herself, phasing out. The manticore pounced on her glowing body, but stood up quite confused to discover that it had not hit the mark. The manticore swatted at Pumpkin with a paw, but to no avail.
Pumpkin Cake glanced around for any sign of the manticore eggs. She discovered that the cave actually extended deep within the hill side. She couldn’t even see the back wall of it. So, she pressed onward.
Unfortunately, Pumpkin could only move very slowly while intangible. As Zecora had taught her, intangibility magic was a subset of levitation magic, except rather than simply take the weight from an object to allow it to rise into the air, an intangibility spell took the mass from an object as well, allowing it to both rise into the air and pass through other objects. This is why she didn’t simply fall through the ground while intangible: gravity was not acting on her. However, this meant that in order to move, she had to use her levitation magic to push herself forward, and she was quite unskilled at this.
She crept forward slowly, her magic slowly pushing her phased body across the ground like a slowly floating specter. The manticore’s inner feline kicked in, and it chased after the glowing blue Pumpkin Cake with the same tenacity—and futility—of a cat chasing a shadow. The manticore swatted at the air and pounced on the ground, but didn’t catch her.
After three minutes, Pumpkin Cake finally eyed three eggs, about twenty meters away, sitting inside a large straw nest. However, she realized that she was reaching the limit of her intangibility spell, and it soon would wear off before she could get there, and the manticore would catch her.
Thinking quickly, she waited until the manticore was crouched in a pouncing position. Then, right as it was about to pounce, she briefly returned to being solid, only to dodge the manticore as it pounced onto the ground. Now able to run, she dashed over to the eggs.
She tried to pick them all up with her magic, but found that they were far heavier than she had thought. They must’ve weighed as much as an anvil. Her already tired horn strained just to pick up a single egg.
Suddenly, the beast darted across the cave, leaping in the air as it pounced. Pumpkin Cake cast her intangibility spell on herself once more, and the beast passed through her… but hit the eggs, smashing them into pieces.
Pumpkin Cake’s heart skipped a beat. Now what would she do?
Oh, right. The egg shells are all I need, she realized. Duh.
She returned to being solid, frantically grabbing the egg shells with her magic. She would have to hurry when she left, because she couldn’t levitate other objects while intangible; she’d have to be solid to bring the eggshells back. If only she’d remembered her saddlebags!
The manticore got back up onto its feet, angrily eyeing its destroyed eggs and the shells floating away. Pumpkin Cake turned and ran, galloping out the front door of the cave as fast as her legs would carry her, the manticore in hot pursuit.
As she ran, she saw the river in front of her, then glanced behind her. The beast was gaining on her, and would be closing in on her in mere moments!
With great effort, she summoned up as much of her remaining magical energy as she could muster. She could feel the manticore’s hot breath on her flank as she disappeared in a bright flash of light, leaving the beast without its prey. She reappeared on the other side of the river, her teleport successful. The manticore roared loudly at her, but did not attempt to cross the river.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Pumpkin Cake sat down for a few moments to regain her stamina and magical energy.
This had by far been the most dangerous mission she’d been on. Other times, she’d simply had to retrieve things like phoenix feathers or poison joke plants. On some of the escapades, she hadn’t even had to use her magic at all. This was entirely different, though. She’d just barely escaped with her life.
She missed the days when the simplest errands she had to run were just going to the cellar to retrieve flour, sugar, or eggs (regular chicken eggs, that is) for some pastry her parents were baking. She missed her parents’ baked treats, cakes, and pies.
She missed her parents. Their smiles. Their voices. Everything about them… she missed her brother...
She felt a knot at the pit of her stomach. She felt tears welling up.
“No,” she whispered quietly. A blue glow enveloped her, and as she phased out of existence, she felt nothing. In the same way that her spell numbed her to physical pain, it seemed to numb her to sadness as well.
She wasn’t sure how it worked, or even if it was anything beyond a placebo effect. All she knew was that it worked, and that was good enough for her.
She’d been numb to the grief of losing her parents when she was on Sweet Apple Acres. She supposed that the full gravity of it had yet to sink in at that time. She had cried a few times, but hadn’t felt much beyond that.
After she escaped, though, she’d begun to feel it a bit more every day. Zecora had filled the hole in her heart somewhat, but as kind and loving as she was, the zebra could never replace her parents or brother.
Then, one day, about five months ago, she was reminded of her parents once more. One of Zecora’s potions had a very similar odor to the smell of the Cakes’ signature croissants. Then, as now, she had welled up with tears. She had gazed deep within herself and saw the void left by her parents and brother… and it terrified her. Almost instinctively, she cast her intangibility spell, and just as her body vanished, so too did her grief.
Though it was only temporary, she had used this method to avoid sobbing or crying out at the memory of her parents whenever the memories resurfaced. It had yet to fail her, though she found herself having to rely on this method more and more as time passed. Her sadness would eventually catch up with her, and she knew it.
A few minutes passed. Phasing back into reality once more, and with her pain once again put off for later, she ventured back to Zecora’s hut.
Pumpkin knew what she was doing wasn’t healthy. She knew she’d eventually have to feel her grief. She knew she couldn’t hide from it forever.
The voices of a thousand angry ponies boomed and echoed through the night sky. The light from torches illuminated the marble walls of the Equestrian Air Force headquarters as ponies angrily shouted slurs and curses.
“You child-killers!”
“Monsters!”
Lightning Dust flew above the crowd, a megaphone in her hooves.
“Citizens of Cloudsdale!” she yelled.
They all glanced up at her.
“My name is Lightning Dust. I am a resident of Cloudsdale, and a stuntpony by trade. I used to be a candidate for the Wonderbolts, but thank Celestia that I never got in. They’d have asked me to kill a bunch of innocent children!”
The crowd booed.
“We’re all upset right now, and rightfully so. The Equestrian military has let Cloudsdale down. For the last year, we’ve been living under constant terror of the moon crashing down onto our heads and destroying everything we’ve worked for our entire lives. How many of you have woken up from night terrors in the last year?”
Dozens of ponies in the crowd raised their hooves.
“And for what? Can anypony tell me why we haven’t been able to work out a peace with the Second Kingdom? We did it before, why can’t we do it again? Instead though, we’re stuck in this truce limbo. The moon hangs above, looming over lives.
“We’ve been told for the last year that it was all for the sake of peace. That we’d stop the moon, stop Blueblood, and reunite Equestria. That it would all be the same as it ever was. But we know now that this can never be. We’ve seen the wretched, rotten leadership of our military and government of Equestria. How is having them in charge any better than submitting to the Second Kingdom? It's not!”
The crowd cheered.
“For years, we’ve made sacrifices as a city. When Discord’s army of wendigoes attacked, we all defended our own walls and rebuilt largely on our own. The ivory tower tax helped slightly, but Canterlot seceded before we collected as much money as we needed. When the Second Kingdom invaded, our city sent its brave young mares and stallions into harm’s way to defend Ponyville. Many valiant soldiers lost their lives that day. When the war resumes, we will undoubtedly lose thousands more.
“Now that there is a truce, and the moon hangs over our heads, our city itself will be sacrificed to kill these children and save the cities on the ground from being trampled under the hooves of the Second Kingdom. We have sacrificed our lives and property for the rest of Equestria. We’ve bled for them. Have they ever done the same for us? Where were the troops from Ponyville when the Wendigoes attacked?”
“Nowhere!” the crowd said in unison.
“Exactly. We’ve sacrificed ourselves for the greater good of Equestria for many years for little if anything in return. But now, with this latest revelation, we’ve learned that they want us to make one last sacrifice: our morals.
“It’s not enough that our citizens’ lives have been taken. It’s not enough that we’ll soon have to sacrifice our city. No, they want us to sacrifice what makes us the honest, true, and good ponies we are. They want us to kill a barn full of children on the hope that we can win this war. They don’t want us to kill for Cloudsdale, since the moon will demolish it. No, once again we are asked to sacrifice for the rest of Equestria with nothing in return but our own doom.”
The crowd booed.
“And as soon as we do this, our city itself will cease to be. For when we sacrifice our morality and sacrifice these children, our punishment will be death by guillotine of rock.”
Lightning Dust motioned up towards the moon.
“Now, there’s only one way that we can avoid this. We can save our morality, save our city, and save these young unicorns from dying. We can do this by refusing to sacrifice for Equestria any longer.”
The crowd cheered.
“We shall declare independence, and Cloudsdale will be its own nation! We’ll make our own decisions, and we’ll make a separate peace with the Second Kingdom!”
Some of the ponies in the crowd cheered, but some of them murmured confusedly. A few even booed.
“Now, I know what some of you are thinking. Secession? That’s what the Second Kingdom did, and it’s led to this civil war! To you, I say that we will found this new nation in peace rather than war. We won’t attack this military building behind me; we won't kill any soldiers. We won’t found our nation on the idea that we’re above the other races. No, in fact, we are doing this to be treated as equals to them: no more, no less.
“To gain our independence, we will refuse to make any more sacrifices for Equestria until they allow us to make our own decisions as a free nation. Only then can our city and our people truly be equal with the rest of Equestria.
“I’m calling for a general strike. Nopony will work at the weather factory and produce rainbows, clouds, or rain. No pegasi will clear any clouds from any cities in Equestria. No wonderbolts or any ponies in the Equestrian Air Force will report for duty. We will not produce weather until Equestria grants us our independence. Then, when we are independent, we’ll make peace with the Second Kingdom.”
The crowd cheered.
“I will also extend this same offer to the other cloud cities, such as Los Pegasus. For though they have not been harmed in the same way that Cloudsdale has, and have not sacrificed as much, they've still made sacrifices for the ground-dwellers. And I can guarantee that as soon as Cloudsdale is no longer part of Equestria, one of those cities will be under this same guillotine of rock, forced to violate basic pony decency in exchange for death. No more! We shall form the Cloud Confederacy!”
The crowd went wild: screaming, hollering, and throwing hats into the air.
The next day at the Equestrian Air Force base was eerily quiet. The campus was almost entirely empty, save for a few pegasi here and there who hadn’t heard about the general strike, agreed with the decision to bomb the barn, or simply refused to abandoned their posts.
Princess Luna, Princess Twilight, General Spitfire, and General Soarin, along with a few other commanding officers, sat inside of the meeting room.
“It’s like a ghost town out there,” said Twilight. “Nopony’s at the weather factory. Almost nopony is here at the base. All because of our decision.”
“It was still the right call,” said Soarin. “These ponies on this strike are just college kids and undisciplined rebels. They don’t understand the difficulties of making these decisions. And they’re all fired up right now, sure, but it’s the heat of the moment. Once they quit getting their paychecks, once they can no longer pay the bills, they’ll start coming back to work.”
“Are you so sure about that?” asked Princess Luna. “The strike might last longer than you think. Even Lieutenant Thunderlane is taking part in this strike. He’s a high-ranking officer, and hardly a college reactionary.”
“He’s a traitor,” Soarin scoffed. “He probably leaked the plan to Blueblood to begin with. He had no business being here at all.”
“Except that he was a brilliant lieutenant,” said Spitfire. “I doubt he betrayed us to Blueblood. He wasn’t a yes-pony by any means, but how bad is having a voice of dissent?”
Soarin motioned towards the window with his hoof, pointing to the empty campus. “This is what dissent in the military brings: hardly a military at all. Dissent brings a breakdown in order. A true military pony never questions orders; he follows them.”
“What if he believes the orders are wrong?” asked Spitfire.
“Ponies who aren’t willing to unconditionally follow orders shouldn’t be in the military,” said Soarin, narrowing his eyebrows.
“Can we get back to the issue at hoof, here?” asked Princess Luna. “We have a group of ponies who wants to secede. Many of the military ponies are on strike, and we’ll lose a large amount of our air superiority. We can’t make the weather for Equestria. Our economy will weaken from this. If Blueblood wanted to break the truce, now would be the perfect time to attack.”
“I say we let it run its course,” said Soarin. “They can’t stay home forever.”
“Maybe they can be reasoned with,” said Twilight Sparkle. “If we explained our justification, they might reconsider. One thing that Princess Celestia taught me was that friendship can solve any problem between ponies. We should try to make amends.”
“We shouldn’t explain our justification. This was and still remains a top-secret operation. There is no proof that we actually were going to do it,” said Soarin.
“Except for the picture, the testimony of a high-ranking lieutenant, and who knows what other sources the Cloudsdale Courier has,” Spitfire said.
“I read the article. It’s still not definitive,” said Soarin, shrugging.
“So, should we just release a statement denying it?” asked Twilight.
“That seems like a good idea to me,” said Princess Luna. “Best to play damage control and defuse the situation.”
Soarin nodded. “In the meantime, I’ll be preparing to court martial every last one of the soldiers who’ve abandoned their posts. I won’t have disorder running rampant through this military!”
Princess Luna glanced out the window onto the empty campus, chuckling. “You’ll need to find a lot more judges, General Soarin.”
Twilight Sparkle stood backstage at the Manehattan Conference Center as she heard the chattering of the dozens of newsponies who had gathered.
A single bead of sweat dripped down her face as her heart beat in her chest. She glanced over at the wall clock. Only one minute left to go.
You can do this, Twilight. It’s only a speech. Just a three minute speech.
Her brow furrowed.
A speech which tells a lie to all of Equestria! How can I lie to my subjects… No. I have to. I can’t doubt myself now. The integrity of Equestria depends on it… but it’s so wrong! Well, so was the decision to kill those fillies and colts… it’s for the greater good.
Yes, the greater good. The same way which she had justified the act itself. Better to only sacrifice a hundred fillies and colts than have millions of them perish over years of prolonged war. Better to lie about the act itself than to tell the truth and further divide Equestria.
She stood up tall as she walked onstage and over to the podium. She squinted as dozens and dozens of camera flashes blinded her. She took the microphone in her magic and spoke.
“Fillies and gentlecolts of the Equestrian media. I have called this press conference to respond to some of the recent allegations which the Cloudsdale Courier printed yesterday.
“A former lieutenant in the Wonderbolts has accused the Equestrian Air Force of plotting to destroy a barn full of dozens of unicorn fillies and colts in order to bring this war to a speedy close. These supposedly were unicorns who were born to earth ponies and able to grow crops, and are allegedly held by the Second Kingdom forces at a barn near occupied Ponyville.
“I can assure you that nothing is further from the truth. This barn does not exist, and there are no unicorn fillies and colts inside. Even if these unicorn fillies and colts did exist, and even if they held the key to ending the war, we would not simply summarily execute them. We'd make every attempt to save them, and if they could not be saved, we'd let them live.
“We are a nation which sticks together. We never sacrifice each other for the purposes of our own gain. Equestria is founded on the principles of unity and friendship, and we would rather die and lose the war before sacrificing who we are.
”Based on the principle of unity, I would kindly ask for those of you who are participating in this strike to return to work. Though we are in a truce, the war with the Second Kingdom could resume at any moment, and we need everypony at their posts in order to be prepared for that day. Cloudsdale is a key part of Equestria, and without it, our nation wouldn’t survive. We do not seek to use and abuse Cloudsdale for our own means; we respect the contributions of its citizens. Thank you.
“Now, in the interest of transparency, I will answer a few questions from the media.”
At this, the ponies gathered in the room began shouting out dozens of questions. Neither Twilight nor Luna had given a press conference since the war began over a year ago, and there was pent-up demand for answers.
Twilight pointed to a pony who had raised his hoof near the front of the auditorium.
“Yes, you over there.”
“Breaking News with the Hollow Shades Sentinel. Why hasn’t Equestria attempted to broker a peace deal with the Second Kingdom?”
Twilght answered, “Well, Mister News, we actually have been attempting to broker a peace deal, but King Blueblood insists that we give up yet more of our land and resources for peace. We've already negotiated with him once, when he formed his kingdom years ago. He broke the promises he made then, and we will not reward this behavior and risk him doing it again. Yes, ma’am?”
She pointed towards a mare at the rear of the room.
“Front Paige with the Dodge Junction Journal. How can you say that you care for Cloudsdale when it will be destroyed as soon as the truce ends? Why not give Blueblood the land that he wants to save a city of millions from being destroyed?”
“Because, Miss Paige, ponies like Blueblood are never satisfied. If we give him Ponyville today, he’ll want your hometown of Dodge Junction tomorrow. And then, I guarantee that you’ll wish that we’d drawn a line a lot sooner. We are drawing the line with him right now."
She paused for a moment to let the full weight of her statement sink in.
“Yes, you sir, over there?”
“Stoppen Presses with the Cloudsdale Courier. As the newspaper which originally broke this story, we carefully vetted our sources before sending it to print. We pride ourselves in journalistic integrity, and would never willfully publish a lie. We are no tabloid; we ensure that we only publish stories which are corroborated by multiple sources.”
Twilight nodded.
Presses continued, “Given that, I have only a few questions for you. How can you say that this barn doesn’t exist, when we've spoken to the Apple family who once lived there? How can you say that these unicorn children don’t exist, when we’ve spoken to many of their parents? How can you say that you didn’t plan to bomb the barn, when I interviewed a top level lieutenant as well as a general who both have confirmed this plan? They gave the minutes of the meeting in which you made this decision, and they gave drafts of the airstrike plan.”
Twilight Sparkle remained silent. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead.
How will I answer this question? Will I call them all liars? Will I admit to lying? What will I do?
“Princess Sparkle?” Presses asked.
Finally, she spoke. “No comment.”
The reporters angrily demanded that she answer the question, and they hit her with a barrage of new questions, but Twilight simply walked backstage once more.
Lightning Dust and a crowd of thousands of ponies flew through the air, down the streets of Manehattan, as they held picket signs and chanted slogans.
“Free Cloudsdale! Free Cloudsdale! Free Cloudsdale!” they yelled.
The sheer number of pegasi blocked out the sun, casting a shadow over the city. Residents of the city below stopped for a moment and glanced up from their walking to see the ponies above, but mostly went about their business as normal.
The procession finally reached the capitol building, stopping just before reaching it. A group of police ponies on the ground stood firm against the oncoming protesters, blocking them from going any further. Ponies pushed up against the barricade, and a few of them flew over it, but most of the ponies stayed behind the police line.
Inside of her throne room, Princess Twilight spoke to Princess Luna as they both gazed out the window to the crowd outside.
“Looks like this isn’t just limited to Cloudsdale anymore,” Twilight observed. Luna nodded.
“We can’t let them break off from Equestria. We need the pegasi forces to help us hold back Blueblood when the war resumes. Without Cloudsdale’s military, we’ll lose a lot of ground to him,” said Luna.
“I agree,” said Twilight Sparkle.
“I suppose that there’s nothing left to do besides wait,” said Luna.
Twilight sighed. “I guess. I tried to address their concerns in that press conference. That didn’t seem to help matters. Maybe it will all just blow over.”
Luna nodded.
The protests continued for days, drawing crowds of thousands. Traffic in Manehattan came to a crawl as ponies had difficulty navigating around the pegasi, police officers, and other ponies who packed the city streets and the air around the city.
Besides the extra traffic, life in Manehattan was normal. The daily trading bells chimed as hundreds of businessponies wearing suits and hats filed into the trading floor at the Manehattan Stock Exchange building. They, unlike many others, were used to navigating anxious, noisy crowds; it was in their job descriptions as day-traders.
The traders navigated through the throngs of ponies on the trading floor. Ponies held up bundles of cash, bonds, and stock certificates. Despite all of the seeming chaos on the trading floor, ponies still managed to buy and sell stocks. Ticker tape spilled out onto the floor as dozens of traders shouted buy and sell offers for any number of various stocks.
Then, one thursday morning, a loud boom echoed through the hall of the Manehattan Stock Exchange. A giant orange fireball enveloped everything in its path, blowing out windows and throwing ponies against the wall.
That moment dashed the princess’ hopes that everything would just blow over.
Twilight Sparkle blinked at the Manehattan Chief of Police. “Just three?”
The police chief nodded. “From what our forensics analysts can tell, it was placed in a trash can right outside the front entrance, rather than inside of the exchange itself. Had it been inside of the exchange on the trading floor, with such tightly packed ponies, there would’ve been dozens of deaths.”
“Hmm,” muttered Twilight. “I wonder why they didn’t place it inside the exchange? Surely they must have known that doing that would have maximized the deaths.”
The chief shrugged.
“Thanks for your help, Chief.”
The chief bowed and exited the room.
“Perhaps whoever did this meant it as a warning sign,” Luna theorized.
“Whoever did this?” Soarin scoffed. “As if it’s any mystery. We all know it was those Cloudsdale separatists.”
“Now Soarin, let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Twilight.
Spitfire nodded. “The separatist movement has only been around for all of two weeks. I doubt they’ve had the time to construct a bomb and plan this themselves.”
Luna nodded. “For all we know, this could’ve been a false flag attack by Blueblood. He knows all too well that if Cloudsdale were separate from Equestria, we would be weakened and he could attack. The Cloudsdale separatists might not have been involved.”
“Does it matter?” asked Soarin. “Cloudsdale separatists or Blueblood, both are on the same side. Where do you think that the Cloudsdale Courier got those photographs of the unicorn children in the first place? I’d bet my left flank that Blueblood’s been planning all this just to drive a wedge in our nation.”
“And it appears to be working,” Luna muttered.
“Whether the Cloudsdale separatists did it themselves or had Blueblood do it for them, there’s no denying the incidents are related,” said Soarin.
“So, ideas for what we should do?” asked Twilight Sparkle.
“I say that we double down on security throughout Equestria, and declare martial law. We can’t let anypony believe that we are willing to negotiate with terrorists. That’s the quickest way to have the population lose faith in our ability to govern,” said Soarin.
“What happens if we face more attacks despite whatever new security measures we put into place? This was an obvious warning; I doubt that next time we’d get off with only three dead. Wouldn’t more attacks also cause ponies to lose faith?” asked Spitfire.
Twilight sighed. “It’s times like this that I wish Princess Celestia were still here. She was quite the statespony, and could probably tell us exactly what to do to keep favor with the public.”
“Well, I doubt she would’ve signed off on foalcide,” Spitfire quipped. Twilight glared at the pegasus, and she blushed.
Soarin said, “She’d support the unity of Equestria, and would be steadfast and uncompromising, just like when she refused to just let the Second Kingdom declare independence.”
“But look what that led to,” said Luna. “The Second Kingdom went to war with Equestria and gained independence anyway, except that thousands died. Thousands more are sure to die when the ceasefire is broken. Had she negotiated with them from the start—”
“Then what?” asked Soarin. “Then they still would have attacked, just like they did two years ago after the first treaty. There was peace, but they broke it. They’re nothing but a bunch of greedy pigs, and they’re never satisfied. They just take and take and take to feed their delusions of racial grandeur. There’s no negotiating with ponies who aren’t loyal to anything but themselves and their own fantasies.”
“Well,” Twilight started. “You both make good points…”
Soarin and Luna gazed at Twilight Sparkle expectantly. Spitfire looked indifferent.
“I think that we should allow Cloudsdale to vote on its own independence and respect its wishes.”
Luna smiled, and Soarin scowled.
Twilight continued, “You’re right that Blueblood and his followers are greedy and irrational, Soarin. Princess Celestia was right to not negotiate with them, despite the fact that ponies died in their war of independence, and despite the fact that ponies will die when they resume their war with us.
“But Cloudsdale is different from Canterlot. These ponies like Lightning Dust, Thunderlane, and Stoppen Presses aren’t in this for some geopolitical chess game. They aren’t in this out of some delusion of racial superiority like Blueblood. They aren’t doing it for themselves, other than to save their own city and homes from destruction. They aren’t doing this for some greedy power grab or land grab.
“No, they’re doing this because they see Equestria as an immoral, unfair society that they no longer want to be part of. Anything that we do to keep them joined to us will only make them more convinced that we’re just using them for our own selfish interests, whether or not that’s actually true. Whether we declare martial law, hold military tribunals to prosecute all the deserters, or hold ourselves aloof and refuse to acknowledge their concerns, we’ll drive them further away. I know because I tried that at the press conference. I shied away from the reporters and didn’t answer their questions. I treated them as their better, like they didn’t deserve my answers to their questions. All that led to was the worst protests that we’ve seen in years, and it likely led to this bombing, too.
“Letting them vote will at least show them that we care about their interests. It will allow them a choice. They will no longer want to set off bombs when they have a peaceful solution available to them. Politics is a constructive outlet, and the vote will help us keep the peace more than any extra security.
“A vote will also allow us to state our case. Right now, whenever somepony from our government speaks to the citizens of Cloudsdale, they see a dictatorship. They feel they’re being talked down to and being given orders. Letting them vote would mean that we are talking to them not as subjects, not as subordinates, but as equals. And that’s exactly how they want to be treated. When we can talk to them as equals, we can make the case for why Equestria must stay united in the face of evil tyrants like Blueblood, or else we’ll all end up under his hoof one day. Then, when we make the case to them as equals, they might listen and vote to stand with us.
“Even if they don’t listen, if they are independent, Blueblood has just lost most of his leverage against Equestria. He won’t be able to hold Cloudsdale hostage anymore. The city will be safe. His unicorn magicians will have to raise the moon back into its place in the sky. True, with Cloudsdale independent, we won’t have as many air troops. But we’ll still have the pegasi from the rest of Equestria. We’ll still have those who decide to abandon a newly-independent Cloudsdale and come fight for Equestria.
“And remember, this war won’t last forever. Say that Cloudsdale votes for independence. Eventually, when we win—”
“If we win,” Luna corrected.
“If we win, and if the Second Kingdom falls, Equestria will be reunited, and then perhaps Cloudsdale will see that they want to become part of a newly-reunited Equestria.
“Allowing them to vote gives us options to stop an insurgency. It gives Cloudsdale options to either save themselves or stand with us against Blueblood. Right now, with no vote, we have no options. With a vote, we have them, and so does Cloudsdale.”
Cloudsdale, August 2nd, 2022
The sun rose over the eastern horizon, blanketing Cloudsdale in a warm blanket. The moon stood a few kilometers up, ominous as ever. It was just like every other day over the past two years, with one exception: today was the long-awaited election day.
Every building in Cloudsdale was plastered with posters advocating for or against the secession of Cloudsdale from Equestria.
“Save your house, vote Cloudsdale out of Equestria!” one poster screamed.
“Loyalty to the crown!” another poster yelled, with a picture of an Equestrian flag on it.
It had been the most bitterly fought campaign in the history of the sky city, with both sides fiercely holding their ground… but it had been fought with ballots instead of bullets. For the most part, ponies had refrained from violence, and the explosion at the stock exchange had been the deadliest incident since the barn bombing plot had come to light in January. There had been many bar fights and one or two hoofball riots, but few deaths.
Lines at the polling places stretched for blocks and blocks, and ponies waited for hours just to get into the voting booths. Today was a chilly day, and voters wore scarves and coats to keep warm. A few ponies flew around with trays filled with cups of hot cocoa, making sure to only give them to those voters who wore campaign buttons that they agreed with.
Among the ponies waiting in line, Spitfire stood with Pound Cake.
“Spitfire, why are we waiting here?” asked Pound Cake, impatiently shivering as he flew around in circles to stay warm.
Spitfire chuckled. “Stay still for a moment, and I’ll tell you.”
Pound stopped and hovered in the air beside Spitfire.
“Today is a day that you’ll remember for the rest of your life, Pound. You’ll tell your children about this. I want you to be here to see history in the making.”
Pound puzzled. “I don’t get it.”
“Today, Cloudsdale is going to vote on independence.”
“What about you?”
“I plan to vote for us to stay part of Equestria.”
“Why, though? Equestria was going to kill my sister. If we stay with Equestria, Cloudsdale will be smashed by the moon,” said Pound.
Spitfire paused for a moment, and then asked, “Why do you care for your sister, Pound?”
Pound blinked. “Well, because she’s my sister. I’d do anything for her.”
“Would you ever abandon her?”
Pound blushed. “Well, I mean I tried to rescue her at the barn, but—”
“You gave it your best shot despite the odds. Yes, you failed, but you tried.”
Pound nodded.
“You’re loyal to her because you love her no matter what. Have you ever been in a fight with her before?” Spitfire asked as the line crept along.
Pound chuckled. “All the time. Sometimes we’d have pretend wars with our dolls and action figures, and one of us would lose, and we’d actually get into a fight in real life. Sometimes we’d fight over other things, like who got the last piece of cake.”
“But you still loved her despite that?”
“Yes. I’ll always love her,” said Pound, smiling. “She’s my sister!”
Spitfire smiled. “Now you know why I have to vote no to independence. Yes, Equestria isn’t perfect. Yes, I don’t agree with all of their decisions. I’ll never agree with their decision to bomb that barn. I did everything in my power to stop it, and will still keep trying to stop it. Say you found out your sister was doing something terrible like stealing, doing drugs, or even killing other ponies. You would try to stop her, right?”
“Yeah.”
“But you’d still love her and stay with her no matter what she did. I know you would. You wanted to risk your own life to go down and save her just a few months ago.”
Pound nodded. The line inched forward.
“You love her because you’re her brother, and always will be. In the same way, we are Equestrian, and always will be. If we leave, we leave the rest of Equestria at the mercy of Blueblood’s forces. Equestria will very likely be overrun without the pegasi of Cloudsdale there to provide air support.
“True love is sticking with someone no matter what they do. It’s unconditional. I love my country, Pound. I could never vote to leave it. One day, we’ll win the war. One day, we’ll win the civil war and reunite Equestria. But our nation won’t be whole again without Cloudsdale.”
Spitfire didn’t know anypony else but Pound was paying attention to her, but a few seconds after she had finished speaking, several of the ponies in line clapped.
“That was a beautiful speech, miss,” one mare said.
“Bravo,” said a stallion.
“Eh, whatever,” said a mare who didn’t clap. She rolled her eyes, chuckling. “Patriotism won’t save my house from the moon. My vote will.”
Pound felt a slight bit of churning in his stomach at hearing this treasonous pony, as he realized Spitfire was right. How could the mare vote for her own property when an entire nation was at stake? How could she ever abandon her country for her own selfish reasons? Did she not know she was a part of something bigger than herself, bigger than Cloudsdale?
Finally, Spitfire and Pound Cake reached the polling station. Pound stood outside and Spitfire entered the voting booth, casting her ballot. Despite the privacy curtain she stood behind, everypony in town knew exactly what she voted for. She exited, and flew back to her house with Pound Cake.
The next day, the ballots were counted and the results came in. Sixty-five percent of Cloudsdale voted to become an independent nation, while only thirty-five percent voted to remain part of Equestria. Though the results surprised Pound Cake and Spitfire, they didn’t shock the professional pollsters. In fact, the pollsters were more shocked at the number of ponies who voted to stay part of Equestria.
A few ponies, like Thunderlane, voted just because they detested Equestria’s decision to commit war crimes. But the driving force was ponies’ desire to preserve their city. There might as well have been a miniature pegasus sitting on the shoulder of each voter, prodding them and whispering in their ear, urging them to vote themselves out of Equestria to save their own homes.
Cloudsdale, January 2023
Ponies waved and threw confetti into the air as the caravan flew down the street of Cloudsdale towards the capitol building. Pegasi carried chariots behind them, in which a delegation of unicorns sat.
The chariots arrived at the capitol, and the unicorns stepped out onto the clouds, enchanted to walk on them. The crowd cheered cheered the unicorns as they entered the building. King Blueblood smiled and waved to the crowd as he walked through the door.
Blueblood and his delegation walked down the hallway and into the conference room. He walked in, where the government of the newly-formed Cloud Confederacy sat. They stood up to greet the delegation.
“King Blueblood,” said Lightning Dust, shaking his hoof.
“President Lightning Dust,” he said, shaking her hoof back.
Lightning Dust had won in a landslide election in November. She’d promised to sign a peace treaty with the Second Kingdom, and promised that Cloudsdale would never go to war again. She lacked much practical experience in leadership beyond organizing the campaign for independence, but her reputation, speeches, and bold promises of reform catapulted her into the new country’s highest office.
The Cloud Confederacy was a nation composed of Cloudsdale and Los Pegasus, which also seceded shortly after Cloudsdale. The other cloud cities were expected to follow suit as soon as this peace treaty was signed. After all, if Blueblood could threaten Cloudsdale with the moon, he could threaten any city in the sky with the moon. So long as Equestria was still at war with the Second Kingdom, no cloud city was safe while it was still part of Equestria. The Cloud Confederacy promised them the safety that Equestria could not.
A crowd had gathered in the rotunda of the captial building where they could see the conference room through a window in the wall.
A grey-maned older unicorn levitated the peace treaty in front of him, which he read from.
“King Blueblood, the leader of the Second Kingdom of Unicornia, and President Lightning Dust, the leader of the Confederation of Cloudsdale and Los Pegasus, hereby resolve on today, January 5th, 2023, that their two nations should now and forevermore be peaceful neighbors and conduct normal relations with each other.
The undersigned hereby decree that peace shall reign supreme over both lands. The Second Kingdom additionally agrees to raise the moon back into its proper place in the sky, and the Cloud Confederacy agrees that none of its citizens shall hold any military positions in the armed forces of Equestria, lest their citizenship be revoked.”
Lightning Dust took the pen in her hoof, and Blueblood took the pen in his magic, and they both signed the treaty. The crowd outside cheered. Blueblood and Lightning Dust exited the building and the crowd showered them with confetti, cheering them both.
The delegation of unicorns who had traveled with King Blueblood lit up their horns, and for the first time in over two years, the moon lifted back up into the sky. The pegasi squinted their eyes as the sun shone in its full brightness. They cheered as the cloak of dimness was finally gone.
The light dimmed as night time fell upon the small town of Ponyville. Residents went inside of their homes, finishing up the day’s work.
Outside of the town, the Second Kingdom unicorn forces hurriedly packed up tents, munitions, and other supplies into their saddlebags. The commanding officers barked orders at the soldiers, who hurriedly formed into lines.
Soon, the division had packed up all of its tents and supplies. Soldiers muttered excitedly as General Top Brass stood before them.
“Stallions! Today is the culmination of two years of waiting. Today, we finish what we started two years ago. Without the pegasi armies of Cloudsdale or Los Pegasus providing Equestrian air support, our job is made much easier. We now have a clear path to victory, as outlined in King Blueblood’s brilliant new strategy to win the war.
“Now, here are your marching orders…”
Everfree Forest, March 2023
Thirteen-year-old Pumpkin Cake was out taking a walk in the forest. She was not on any sort of ingredient-hunting mission, rather she was out to stretch her legs a bit.
May of this year would be the two-year anniversary of when she moved in with Zecora. Like her brother, she missed Ponyville, but knew that she could never go back. The Second Kingdom soldiers would see her and recognize her as an escaped unicorn farmer. Though Zecora had given her a potion to heal the brand on her flank, Pumpkin imagined that the soldiers would likely be on the lookout for any young unicorn mares like herself. Thus, she hadn’t been to Ponyville since she had escaped Sweet Apple Acres.
Besides, she had everything that she needed at Zecora’s. She had a caring guardian, food, shelter, and magic teaching. She and Zecora hadn’t been entirely isolated from the outside world, though. Pumpkin Cake had been on a few trips with Zecora to Dodge Junction, the closest other town to the Everfree Forest. Zecora felt it was important to get Pumpkin to socialize and play with other ponies, particularly since there were no other ponies her age around in the forest.
Unlike Pound, Pumpkin was homeschooled. In addition to Zecora’s magical knowledge, she knew quite a bit about the traditional school subjects such as Grammar, Math, and Science, and had been teaching Pumpkin all she knew. Due to her foreign birth, Zecora’s knowledge of pony history was a bit patchy, but Pumpkin Cake learned a lot of history from the events taking place around her. As Zecora had once mentioned, these were historic times.
Indeed, on their trips to Dodge Junction, Pumpkin Cake often heard other ponies speak about events happening elsewhere in Equestria. Over the past few months she had heard about Cloudsdale seceding. She had heard of the barn bombing plot, and had breathed a sigh of relief that she had escaped from Sweet Apple Acres when she did.
On her last trip a few weeks ago, Pumpkin Cake had heard that the Second Kingdom had finally broken the ceasefire. They captured the few areas of Ponyville that they didn’t yet control and moved the fillies and colts from the barn up to the northern Flatlands to begin farming. She didn’t know anything beyond that, but assumed that she and Zecora were safe in the Everfree Forest.
On this day, she was proven wrong.
As she walked along, she heard stallions speaking. Pumpkin Cake ducked behind a thick tree trunk, which concealed her from their view.
“...in this Blueblood-forsaken forest, anyway? I must have a million mosquito bites by now,” a unicorn stallion spoke. Pumpkin could see him off in the distance. He appeared to be levitating a machete in his magic, and was swinging at foliage.
“We have our orders, private,” said a cyan stallion. “We’re to patrol the forest and clear a path for the army until we reach the river. Any ponies we find, we’re to shoot on sight. Can’t have the Equestrians finding out that we’re in here; we’d lose the element of surprise.”
“Yes, sarge,” said a green stallion. Catching a closer look, she discovered that there were just three of them.
Pumpkin gulped as she looked behind her. Zecora’s hut was only a kilometer or so away. She began to sweat. They’d find her and kill her.
Got to come up with something fast, she thought.
She weighed her options.
She could teleport back to Zecora’s and warn her, and they both could run away. But she couldn’t teleport nearly that far, and the noise and the white flash would give her away. The the soldiers would know she was there, and they’d hunt her down. She had her intangibility spell, sure, but she could only stay intangible for so long. She couldn’t run while intangible; she could only travel at a walking pace, so they’d keep up with her just fine until it wore off and then shoot her in the head.
She could try to sneak off without teleporting, but she had a bright orange mane that would give her away. She didn’t know any invisibility spells, because those were only for the highest level unicorns. So there went that idea.
As she mulled her options, she realized that she hadn’t considered actually staying to fight them. So, going against her first instinct to just turn tail and run, she swallowed, steadied herself, and then jumped out from behind the tree, directly in front of the three soldiers.
“Kill her!” the sergeant shouted. All three stallions drew their weapons and fired at Pumpkin Cake, just as she turned intangible. Their bullets passed harmlessly through her as the soldiers emptied their clips.
“How’s she still standing?” one private asked.
“The bullets passed right through her. That’s impossible!” said the other private.
“Turn back now, or else!” Pumpkin Cake commanded, floating towards them, still intangible. She hoped that her spell wouldn’t wear off before they left.
“It’s a ghost!” said one of the ponies, the color draining from his face.
“A phantom!” said another.
“Ghosts aren’t real! Stand your ground! This is some sort of trick,” said the sergeant.
Pumpkin Cake grinned as she got an idea.
“I am the Phantom of the Forest,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Leave and never return again, or I’ll curse you all with terrible diseases!”
“Run!” cried one of the privates, who started to run away until the sergeant grabbed him with his magic and pulled him back.
The sergeant turned to the private. “Keep it together! I’ll have you court martialed! Curses aren’t real, either!”
Pumpkin Cake saw her chance. She briefly turned solid once more so that she could use her telekinesis. She grabbed a stick from the ground, turned it intangible, and placed it inside of the sergeant’s front hoof. Then, she made the stick solid again while it was still in his hoof.
“AAAAH!” the sergeant cried out, the stick displacing his flesh as it came back into existence. His skin and muscle ripped apart as blood spilled everywhere, and he fell to the ground.
“It’s a terrible disease!” the two privates screamed, running away.
Abandoned by his stallions, the sergeant turned back towards Pumpkin Cake. She slowly walked up to him, scowling, as his jaw trembled and his pupils widened.
He whimpered, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t… don’t kill me… I was just following orders... I have a family…”
Pumpkin Cake scowled at him. She just stood there for a few seconds, contemplating what he had said. Finally, she spoke.
“So did I.”
Then, with the last of her magic, Pumpkin Cake cast a teleport spell, disappearing out of the sergeant’s sight. She reappeared close to Zecora’s hut, physically exhausted from all the magic she’d used. She sat down in the underbrush, catching her breath.
For the first time in two years, she cried over the loss of her parents. She didn’t bother fighting her tears or hiding from her sadness this time. She was too tired. The realization set in that the Second Kingdom, which had taken both of her parents, which had separated her from her brother, now wanted to take Zecora, the only family she had left. History would repeat itself, and she would be left with nopony but herself, and then they would kill her too.
She sniffled and bawled for several minutes.
But then, she stopped. History wouldn’t repeat; it was different this time. She looked up at her horn. She now had the power to stop it. Before, she had been powerless, but she was strong now. They could no longer take from her without a fight.
Her tears of sorrow turned to tears of joy as she finally understood. She still missed her parents dearly, and not a second went by when she didn’t wish for them back. But their deaths wouldn’t be in vain because now, she had discovered the strength at her core.
Despite those soldier’s machine guns, they had no power over her. They were powerless to control or even touch her anymore, and they had all fled in terror before her. She decided at that moment that she would continue to fight until every oppressor in all the land fled or died, and everypony could truly live free from those who sought to hurt or control them.
It was her purpose in life.
A brilliant flash of light shone from Pumpkin Cake’s flank as her cutie mark appeared: a symbol of a blue outline of a pony.
Mareicopa, April 2013
The bright midday desert sun shone down upon the sprawling city of Mareicopa. Residents of the city wore heavy sunglasses and wide-brimmed hats to stay warm on this sweltering day. During the summer months, the heat would be so unbearable that most residents would either stay inside or go to the swimming pool. Nearly every house had a swimming pool in the backyard. Air conditioning, a luxury in most other parts of Equestria, was a must here.
The city couldn’t survive were it not for the Everfree River which carried life-sustaining water from tributaries in the Canterlot mountain through the Everfree forest, west to Mareicopa, then through Las Pegasus and finally out to sea. Aqueducts built on this river carried it into water reservoirs in the city.
Outside the city in the desert, snakes slithered into the sand, buzzards flew off into the air, and jackrabbits hid behind cacti as the ground shook from the rhythmic stomping of thousands of unicorn hooves. The troops followed the winding path of the Everfree River, closing in on the city.
Spitfire was relaxing on a deck chair beside the swimming pool at her new home. Pound Cake was swimming laps around the pool. After the physical training regimen which Spitfire had put him through for the past three years, he was now a muscular and physically-fit pony.
“Alright, that’s enough swimming. You can just relax if you want,” said Spitfire, glancing down at her watch.
“Okay,” said Pound, breathing heavily as he came to a stop.
“Good job today, Pound.”
“Thanks…” he said. “Just wish that it was a bit nicer outside, and less hot. Even in the pool, I’m burning up.”
Spitfire chuckled. “You think that you’ll be able to decide what the weather is when the Second Kingdom comes?”
Pound didn’t answer.
“That’s what I thought,” said Spitfire, grinning.
“I do miss all my friends in Cloudsdale, though,” he said as he climbed out of the pool and dried himself off.
“So do I, but you remember the laws they passed. I couldn’t just keep my position in the Equestrian air force and stay there too.”
“Yeah,” Pound conceded.
A warning siren sounded off in the distance, along with several explosions.
Spitfire’s head jolted up.
“What’s going on?” asked Pound.
“One of the Second Kingdom’s battalions has been marching west down the Everfree River towards Mareicopa for months. We’ve been holding them off as best as we could, but I guess now they’ve finally arrived. I have to go to the military base. If the Second Kingdom makes it past our forces and into the city, you know what to do.”
“Fly straight to Manehattan,” said Pound Cake.
“You got it, said Spitfire, nodding. “You’ll find the Princesses as well as Rainbow Dash there, and they can find you a new home. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but in case I don’t see you again…”
She grabbed Pound Cake tightly in a hug.
“I love you, Pound Cake. You’re like the son I never had.”
A single tear formed in Pound Cake’s eye. “I love you too. Thank you for everything. All your training, your teaching.”
Spitfire let him go and looked him in the eye. “You’re a good kid, Pound Cake. Never forget who you are and where you come from. Keep Equestria in your heart, no matter what happens. Now I have a battle to fight! See you around, kid!”
She grinned at him, and then ran into the house. She quickly dressed in her Equestrian officer’s attire, and then bolted out the door, flying towards the military base.
Ponies clad in military vests ran through the streets of Mareicopa, ordering all civilians to get indoors. Ponies scrambled to get back to their homes. One mare pointed in shock towards the eastern horizon, where she could see the shadows of the thousands of ponies approaching.
Explosions rocked the eastern desert, as pegasi forces dropped bombs on the incoming unicorns.
General Spitfire flew through the gates to the military base, where she went to the rallying point for a group of soldiers.
She spoke, “We are the only line of defense stopping the Second Kingdom from overrunning this city! Since Las Pegasus seceded, if the Second Kingdom forces get past us, there’s no stopping them from making their way to the western sea. Now, get out there and fight!”
They all saluted, and rushed out the door towards their positions.
General Top Brass stood with his soldiers as the unicorn magicians cast and re-cast protective force-fields against the incoming missiles.
“Counter-attack!” he commanded. Unicorn artillery forces loaded rockets into launchers, got into position, and fired them towards the military base.
Tanks from the Mareicopa base drove out across the desert, blasting at the unicorn lines. The unicorn wizards projected force fields, which did not withstand the incoming missiles. Explosions ripped the front lines of the unicorn army as many stallions fell to the concussive forces of the rockets.
General Top Brass ordered his top telekinetics to the front lines, where they raised a temporary barrier of sand in front of the incoming tank missiles. The wall of sand towered three meters high, and completely blocked the Equestrians’ view of the Second Kingdom forces.
Mareicopan earth pony soldiers ran into position and smashed through some of the sand barriers with their hooves, shooting at the unicorn telekinetic magicians. They took out some, but most of the barrier still remained, providing the unicorns with a moving shield to fire from behind. Artillery unicorns poked holes in the sand and fired through at Equestrian forces as needed.
The pegasus brigades from Mareicopa flew out into the desert, far above where the unicorns stood. There were less pegasi forces now than there were at the battle of Ponyville, given that much of the air force had left with the Cloud Confederacy. The unicorn planes, which had been improved since the battle of Ponyville, flew over to meet them. The planes now had reinforced cockpits, and dual machine guns. The biplanes were also joined by a few new, metallic-winged monoplanes which were more maneuverable than their predecessors.
The unicorn pilots strafed the pegasus fighters, who responded by shooting back at the planes. The high-caliber rounds from the planes tore through the pegasi like tissue paper, and they fell to the ground a bloody mess. The pegasus fighters managed to smash a few of the cockpits and kill some of the pilots. The ensuing dogfight lasted for several hours, with both sides sustaining heavy losses, but with the unicorns coming out ahead in their first air victory of the war.
Now with free reign over the skies, the unicorn bombers dropped bombs on the Equestrian tanks, blowing them to pieces. A few of the bombers fell as the tanks blasted them out of the sky, but they were no match for the unicorn air superiority.
The unicorn bombers went into position over the barracks, dropping bombs on silos. The silos exploded as the troops within them fled for cover, out into the city. The unicorn bombers continued into the city, indiscriminately dropping bombs over every target they could find: government buildings and civilian homes alike.
Pound Cake, who had already grabbed his bug-out bag, glanced up into the sky and saw the unicorn bombers flying. He grimaced in anger and determination, remembering what Spitfire told him, as he took off into the sky to leave for Manehattan.
Pound could see hundreds of ponies running around in the streets frantically screaming and trying to avoid the bombs and take shelter. These ponies appeared smaller and smaller in size as he ascended into the heavens. He could see the bombers and fighter jets, but he ascended to far above them where they couldn’t fire at him. Not that they would notice a single pegasus among the panicking crowds.
Off in the distance, he could see the Everfree River. He could see the earth pony brigades retreating towards the city, and the thousands of unicorn troops advancing towards it. The Everfree River would lead him towards the Everfree Forest, and provide a source of drinking water in the desert heat. Once he reached the Everfree Forest, he would follow the Baltimare River towards the Horseshoe Bay, and then follow Equestria’s east coast up until he reached Manehattan.
He hovered in the air for a second. Just as he was about to fly off in the direction of the Everfree River, a series of explosions jolted the ground below him.
He glanced down and saw that in Spitfire’s neighborhood, half of the homes were now smoldering craters.
His brow furrowed and he gritted his teeth. Those Second Kingdom scum were attacking civilians in his very own neighborhood! Did they have no respect for the laws of war, for their fellow ponies?
He gazed down at one of the bombers, his eyes searing under both the desert heat and his uncontrollable fury. He shook his head, and remembered what Spitfire had taught him. Her techniques required focus, not rage.
He cleared his mind, stilled his wings and entered a free-fall. He rapidly gained speed as he neared the bomber. Even in the sun’s scorching heat, the whipping gusts at his coat chilled him to the bone.
As Pound extended both of his hooves in front of him, a white cone of air began to form in front of them. Crackling and echoing boomed through the air as he approached the speed of sound. He aimed his hooves square towards the wing of the bomber as he focused all of his energy towards his hooves. One lapse in concentration and he would end up with his blood and guts splattered all over the wing.
With a loud Clank, Pound Cake hit the wing of the bomber. The aluminum wing folded beneath his sheer speed and strength as he continued dive-bombing towards the ground. He flapped his wings and zipped back up towards the sky, his momentum carrying him upward as he hit another bomber on the wing. Gravity and the collision caught up to him, and he came to a stop in midair as he gazed down towards the bombers.
They flew out of control, entering tailspins as the pilots ejected and deployed their parachutes. The bombers exploded into fireballs on the ground below.
Pound Cake heard the crackling of machine gun fire as he turned around and noticed that two fighter planes had spotted him and noticed that he had taken down the bombers. He quickly flew up and over them, soaring high into the sky until he was out of their range.
Breaking the airplanes’ wings was a feat not many pegasi would’ve been able to do without crashing or killing themselves. Though it would have been effective, its inherent risk mean that it wasn’t a sanctioned military tactic. But Spitfire had trained Pound Cake well, and he had practice cracking cement blocks in two in her backyard.
Those Second Kingdom soldiers were evil, callous monsters, Pound thought as he flew. They had no loyalty to anypony but themselves, and no desire to see peace or equality prevail. They would kill anypony in a heartbeat without so much as a second thought. Even if they were just following orders, their behavior was inexcusable and unfair.
Even though there were no courts to try them in, and no police who could round them up, they had broken the laws of war and deserved to be brought to justice. Pound glanced back down at the ground at the smouldering wreckage of the bombers and smiled. That was justice, and he had the strength of body and the purity of heart to deal it fairly.
At that moment, he knew. He would bring all of the evildoers to justice. He would reunite Equestria, and nopony would ever claim to be any better than anypony else again. The racist leaders in Canterlot and the separatist leaders in Cloudsdale would face their day in court, and then everypony else could live as equals.
It was his purpose in life.
A brilliant flash of light shone from Pound Cake’s flank as his cutie mark appeared: a symbol of two jetwings.
On the side of a grand mountain, right in the middle of the Equestrian continent, visible from many miles away, the city of Canterlot stood.
It once was Equestria’s capital, standing proud over a united country. Now, from the secessionist Second Kingdom, its domes and newly-constructed steely grey skyscrapers cast a looming shadow across the land. A perpetual fog hung ominously in the air around the mountainside city.
Fancy Pants was walking down the cobblestone street towards the new capitol building for the weekly meeting with King Blueblood.
He frowned as he gazed up at the sky. The weather control planes were supposed to clear the fog banks a week ago. He supposed that they were all off at war. Perhaps the unicorn magicians could cast a weather spell, but perhaps they were all off at war, too. He could hardly see his hoof in front of his face. The fog and the humidity choked his lungs, making him feel compressed and claustrophobic even though he was outside.
He passed by a bakery. Lines snaked around the block as ponies waited for their meager rations. The food crisis, they were told, would ease up somewhat once the first harvests were done. Trixie’s stallions had taken the unicorn fillies and colts from Ponyville up to the Northern Flatlands, where they were just starting to till the fields and plant the first seeds. Fancy Pants hoped it would be enough—not for his sake, since he was a member of the council and had all the food he could eat—but for the sake of Canterlot and the Second Kingdom. He also hoped that there would be enough weather magicians and airplanes to bring the needed mix of rain and sunshine to the crops. Having unicorn farmers and machinery meant nothing if there was no harvest.
The bakery displayed its prices on the window: three bits for a loaf of bread. Fancy Pants had to stop himself from chuckling. In the early days of the famine, the bakeries had been charging ten bits for bread. Ponies were outraged at the high cost of living and demanded that something be done. At first, Blueblood responded by simply printing more money and distributing it to the poor. Bakeries responded by raising their prices even higher. So, rather than doing the rational thing and allowing free trade with Equestria, Blueblood simply decreed that bakeries, as “stewards of the life blood of the race” may not engage in “highway robbery” and “exploitation of crises.” So, he mandated a maximum price that could be charged for food.
This was a suggestion that economic advisors Flim and Flam had made to Blueblood. Fancy Pants had to suppress the urge to groan every time he heard them called “economic advisors,” because the title of economic “advisors” suit the Flim Flam brothers as ironically as the name Fancy “Pants” suited himself, or rather, didn’t suit himself, since not so much as a pair of slacks adorned his flank.
Flim and Flam were gifted engineers, and their machines worked agricultural wonders, but the brothers had little business sense. Rarely, they’d make a reasonable suggestion, like when they suggested allowing in earth pony guest workers to stop the famine, an idea which Blueblood vehemently rejected as “poisonous.” But then again, Fancy Pants thought, even a broken clock was right twice a day. Far more often, Flim and Flam would suggest such economically bankrupt ideas as mandating unreasonable price ceilings or floors, or imposing onerous demands on business, or constraining trade with heavy tariffs.
Fancy Pants often wished that he had been Blueblood’s economic advisor. He had a successful career as a businessstallion for years, after all. When Blueblood was still a Prince and Canterlot was still part of Equestria, he had come to Fancy Pants to publish a series of instructional magic books as well as an eventual unicorn supremacist tract, the popularity of which played a part in his rise to power. So when Prince Blueblood became king, he only saw fit that his marketer become his propagandist rather than economic advisor. Not that Blueblood would listen to Fancy Pants’ contrarian economic advice, anyway. The king was stubborn and arrogant, and the only advisors he listened to were the yes-ponies like Trixie who pandered to his pre-conceived biases.
As Fancy Pants walked, he noticed a giant poster of King Blueblood on the side of one of the buildings. He grimaced. Even though Fancy Pants had approved the propaganda poster himself, he still reeled every time he saw it. It looked so fake, despite Fancy Pants having made every effort to make the specious photograph look legitimate.
In the poster, the King looked as regal as could be: he wore a red robe with a golden crown and levitated a scepter in his magic. He gazed proudly off into the distance at what the poster wanted the viewer to think was the future or a distant star or some nonsense. In reality, it was a hat rack that the photographer had told Blueblood to look at. Due to the gold shortage, Blueblood’s crown was a mere prop: a stone that a magician had temporarily transfigured to resemble a golden crown.
Like everything else in the Second Kingdom, the photograph of the king was little more than a deception.
What a perfect analogy, Fancy Pants thought as he trotted around the corner towards the capitol street. He finally reached the capitol building, ascending the staircase to the meeting room.
Fancy Pants was the last to arrive, and they started the meeting as soon as he got in the room.
“Glad you could join us, Fancy Pants,” said Blueblood, smiling as he walked in the room. “Now, let’s begin the meeting. We will start with the economy, and then we’ll move on to the war effort. Do make it quick, though, would you, Flim and Flam?”
“The food shortages continue,” Flam started.
“But, with the new unicorn recruits starting their first full season of farming production in the Flatlands, we will hopefully have plenty to eat once more,” Flam finished.
“Excellent,” said Blueblood. “And with the more territory we capture in the war, we will have more earth-born unicorns and more land on which to farm. Soon we shall be truly be self-sufficient as a nation. That brings us to the war effort.”
Blueblood turned to Top Brass. The general spoke, “We’ve taken Mareicopa, and now we’re ready to continue our march west.”
“How many casualties?” asked Blueblood.
“A few hundred, though we didn’t lose anywhere near as many troops as Equestria lost. Ever since most of the pegasi left to live in the Cloud Confederacy, we’ve had great battlefield victories. Only a few hiccups here and there, too,” said the General, smiling.
Blueblood raised an eyebrow. “Hiccups? What do you mean?”
The general chuckled, “Well, it looks like Equestria is using child soldiers now. Some pegasus colt destroyed two of our bombers over Mareicopa. They must be getting desperate to resort to kids.”
Fancy Pants blinked several times as he tried to grasp the nuances of how using children as soldiers was desperate while using them for forced farm labor was not. But then he realized that, of course, anything that the Second Kingdom did was noble and pure and anything that Equestria did was greedy and exploitative. No exceptions, logic included.
Top Brass continued, “Most of our stallions are well-trained enough to have no compulsion taking civilian lives, even children, but a few of them had second thoughts about continuing the bombing campaign against Mareicopa because of their ‘moral objections.’ We had some deserters during our raid of the city.”
“And?” asked Blueblood.
“We shot them in the back of the head, in front of all the rest of our troops.”
“Good,” said Blueblood, smiling. “Strength as a race is our only morality. Weakness in dealing with the inferior races is exactly what let them leech off of us in the first place, before our independence. We must treat them as nothing more than the cows and sheep, because they have no qualms taking our lives and our property when it suits them. Our total war must be entirely total. Any earth ponies or pegasi who resist us in the slightest are to be shot. The rest are to serve us and our interests.”
“Yes, your majesty,” said General Top Brass.
Fancy Pants had heard the unicorn master race speech dozens of times, and usually it just made him bored. This time, though, it made him nauseous. His stomach churned at the thought that Blueblood was using racial ideology to justify cold-blooded murder of unicorns and non-unicorns alike, and that the generals were going along with it.
“Any further issues?” asked Blueblood.
“Just one more,” said General Top Brass. “Though we’ve taken all of the Everfree River—from the foothills of Canterlot to the west coast—we’ve had issues taking the Everfree Forest itself. Two months ago, we sent out a small scouting expedition to look for possible Equestrian encampments. The forest would be a good place for Luna or Twilight’s forces to camp out and ambush us in an attempt to retake Ponyville.
“Given the forest’s danger and the beasts there, we didn’t expect to find any ponies hiding there, but we wanted to exercise caution regardless. All was going well until two of my privates and a sergeant showed up screaming about a ghost or something, and—”
“What?” Blueblood demanded, gritting his teeth. “Ghosts? We didn’t raise an army of cowards! Our nation is based on scientific principles, and the specters of the Everfree are only legends.”
“—May I finish my story?” asked the General, drawing back in his chair.
“I apologize,” Blueblood said. “Please, do go on.”
“The sergeant who was leading the squad came back, and he had a leg injury. The medics who treated him had never seen anything like it. He had a long, thin twig stuck in his leg. At first, they thought he was stabbed, but there was no entry wound. And the stick was too flimsy to even stab somepony with at all. The medics said that it was like the stick had just appeared there inside his leg. He may never walk again.”
“Sounds like a freak accident. What was the whole fuss about the ghost, then?” asked Blueblood.
“The sergeant and the two privates with him said that a young unicorn mare showed up and claimed to be a ghost. They shot at her, but their bullets just phased right through her body without hitting her.”
Nopony said anything for a few seconds.
“I’m at a loss to say what it was that you encountered,” said Blueblood. “Phasing magic would explain both the stick and the bullets, but that spell is supposed to be impossible. Even in all those years that I served as dean of Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns, I never witnessed it.”
“Maybe she really was a ghost, then,” said Flim.
“Or just an illusion or projection,” Flam suggested.
“Hmm,” said Trixie, narrowing her eyes as she rested her chin on her hoof, staring off into space.
The general shrugged, and continued, “I’m just telling you what my troops saw, and why I’ve been hesitant to order an incursion into the forest. There might not be ghosts in there, but there’s certainly somepony or something in there that injured my sergeant, and whatever it is could cause mass casualties. Right now we’ve just been holding our perimeter around the Everfree River and in Ponyville, since the Forest itself holds little strategic value and we never did find any Equestrian encampments, anyway. None of our riverboats passing through the forest on the Everfree River have reported any—”
“What did she look like?” Trixie asked, cutting him off.
“Hmm?” asked the sergeant. Blueblood raised an eyebrow.
“The young mare who scared off your troops. What did she look like?” Trixie repeated.
“Oh, her? The troops said that she had a bright orange mane.”
Trixie’s eyes widened, and then she slowly grinned.
General Top Brass leaned in, intrigued. Trixie continued, "Her name is Pumpkin Cake, and she was one of the young unicorns we captured in Ponyville. She escaped our force field somehow, and I never figured out how she did it, but now I know that she probably used that very same intangibility spell. She's but a single teenage mare, as mortal as you or I, albeit with access to a unique type of magic. Your concerns of mass casualties are unwarranted."
General Top Brass chuckled. "Nothing to be worried about, then. I'll order units into the Everfree to secure the forest within the next month."
"Very good," said Blueblood.
"Oh, and general..." Trixie started, smiling, "I know it may be challenging to detain her, but if at all possible, I would like you to retrieve that mare and deliver her directly to me... alive."
Out at sea, West of Equestria, May 2023
General Soarin sat in his office aboard the HMS Celestia, a pegasus carrier stationed off the coast of Vanhoover. The Celestia was a ship designed to house pegasi at sea, where they would then take to the air and strike at other seagoing vessels.
The Second Kingdom was land-locked with the exception of the Everfree River which they had recently captured. But their Zebra Empire allies did in fact have combat vessels. Ever since the war resumed, they had been threatening settlements all along the west coast of Equestria.
General Soarin was busily examining reports on his desk when his door slammed open.
“General Soarin, Sir!”
He glanced up from his desk. “What is it, officer?”
“A zebra destroyer has just been spotted two miles west of our position, sir! They have their missile systems deployed on deck and aimed towards Vanhoover!”
General Soarin got up from his desk, retrieved his hat, and walked out the door.
“All hooves on deck! Battle stations! All pegasi units, prepare to board the enemy ship and take out those missiles!” he commanded.
Soarin scrambled up the steps until he was above deck, and then took to the sky to observe the imminent battle.
The Zebra Empire had precious few planes on loan from the Second Kingdom, and they were mostly used in battles with the zebras’ ongoing war with the winged Griffons, so the Equestrians, short on pegasi as they were, still had air superiority.
General Soarin, though confident in his forces’ abilities, couldn’t help but feeling the slightest bit apprehensive. This would be the first direct engagement between zebras and ponies. Their ships had fired at each other before, but the two armies had never met eye to eye, pony against zebra.
He had a question nagging the back of his mind. Why had Blueblood decided to ally with the tribal, hornless zebras? Weren’t they basically earth ponies, but with stripes? Sure they had access to alchemy and potion-making, but it hardly fit the definition of “magical.”
The pegasi forces got above deck and took off from the carrier and into the air. General Soarin hovered at the rear behind his troops, careful to keep a safe distance from the battle while staying close enough to shout orders.
In a few minutes, the pegasi had reached the zebra destroyer. A few zebras stood on deck, holding rifles in their hooves.
The ship had five missile launchers on it: one larger, main one on the bow, and two each on the port and starboard sides.
One of the missiles fired from the ship, flying through the air towards the Celestia. It missed, landing harmlessly in the water below. The Celestia would have returned fire, but it wasn’t close enough. It didn’t have enough missiles to last in a protracted battle with a destroyer anyway; its primary function was to transport pegasi.
The pegasi on the front lines charged forward, down at the ship. Some of them, who were carrying bombs, dropped them as close to the missile launchers as they could. They took out one of the missile launchers on the port side.
Soarin grinned. This battle would be over before it even began. Blueblood had picked himself some weak allies.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed some of the zebras on deck drinking blue liquid from vials.
What do those potions do? he wondered.
A small group of five pegasi landed on the deck of the destroyer, aiming their weapons towards the zebras. However, before they could do so, they fell to the ground, the zebras shooting them in the head.
Six of the pegasi who were flying towards the ship fell as they were shot.
Some marksmen, Soarin thought. But then he realized that the zebras must’ve taken some form of potion to enhance their combat abilities. That was how they had been able to shoot the pegasi from so far away.
The pegasi returned fire from the air, hitting several of the zebras. However, in a few moments, Soarin noticed that zebras dressed in white, presumably medics, arrived and poured red liquid over the wounds of their injured comrades who hadn’t yet died. The injured zebras’ wounds closed within minutes, and they then instantly returned to their hooves and resumed fighting.
“Go for headshots!” Soarin commanded.
Another missile from the zebra destroyer flew past the pegasi and hit the Celestia. It was a direct hit, and a fireball exploded in the hull.
Back on the ship, ponies below deck frantically bailed water and evacuated to the upper decks as the helmsstallion frantically tried to steer the massive carrier out of harm’s way.
The fighting on the zebra destroyer continued for a few more minutes, but then another missile hit the carrier. The lower decks filled with water as the ship slowly started sinking.
“Retreat!” called Soarin. He and his forces zipped back to the ship, grabbed their supplies, and headed for land. Thankfully, the coastline was only a few kilometers away.
Soarin and the stallions from the carrier arrived back at the naval base in the Vanhoover harbor. Off on the horizon, they could see that the zebra destroyer was merely one ship in a fleet, and had been joined by a half dozen other ships.
Several of the ships in the Vanhoover harbor floated over to combat the Zebra destroyers. The destroyers, however, fired their missiles directly towards the city of Vanhoover, hitting skyscrapers and other buildings, both military and civilian. Like their Second Kingdom allies, the Zebra Empire forces had no conception of civilian versus military targets: they were engaged in total war.
Over the next hour, the Equestrian destroyers managed to defeat the zebra ships, but not without sustaining heavy losses.
General Spitfire and Princess Twilight Sparkle sat inside of a conference room in Manehatten.
“So what’s the status report on the war, General Spitfire?”
Spitfire sighed as she grabbed an updated map of Equestria.
“Not good. General Soarin and Princess Luna have both reported that they’re losing ground in their respective theaters. Ever since Las Pegasus seceded, Mareicopa was our last line of defense on the Everfree River between Ponyville and the west coast, but they overran our forces there earlier this week. Blueblood’s forces in the south of Equestria have entirely taken the Everfree River, giving the Second Kingdom access to the west coast of Equestria for the first time. They’re now no longer landlocked.”
“How did this happen?” asked Twilight Sparkle, her jaw agape.
“We underestimated their air capabilities. In the two years since the ceasefire, they’ve developed new models of warplanes and bombers. They’ve started upgrading their air force from the old, wooden biplanes to newer aluminum monoplanes with reinforced cockpits. Our pegasi, though more maneuverable, are a lot easier to take down than their new planes. We fought long and hard, but ultimately their bombers overran the city, indiscriminately dropping bombs and destroying everything. Civilian casualties are estimated in the thousands.”
“What about their ground forces?” asked Twilight Sparkle, still in disbelief.
Spitfire sighed. “Though we took out their standard magic force-fields rather easily, the desert sand gave them an advantage that we hadn’t seen before: they can telekinetically manipulate the sand to form makeshift barriers to stop our tank missiles. From behind their sand shield, they can still fire at us easily by poking holes in it, but it’s almost impossible for us to take them out without moving earth ponies in to buck the sand, putting them at risk.”
“And what about the west coast?” asked Twilight.
Spitfire pointed back at the map. “We’re losing control of our coastline to the Zebra Empire. They’ve bombed Vanhoover, and have landed ground forces there. Their ground forces are almost impossible to take out. The have some sort of potion they take to enhance their speed and reflexes. It gives them the speed of cheetahs, the eyes of hawks. They can snipe our soldiers from long distances, and can run twice as fast as a normal pony. Even when we do hit one of them, they can just take a healing potion and be back to fighting strength within minutes. Vanhoover is under siege, and we fear that they may go after Tall Tale as well.”
“You do know what this means, right?” Twilight asked.
“Yes,” said Spitfire. “The Second Kingdom and the Zebra Empire are going to divide Equestria in half. From the northern Flatlands down to Ponyville, then along the course of the Everfree river, then up and down the west coast. They’re tightening the noose, wrapping around us like an anaconda.”
Twilight sighed, burying her face in her hooves. If Spitfire didn’t know better, she would have thought that the princess was crying.
“I just can’t believe it. Cloudsdale secedes, Las Pegasus secedes, and they take away over half of our air force. All for a war crime that we didn’t even actually commit. And now the unicorns overrun the Everfree River, the zebra empire overruns our west coast, and we’re going to lose the entire western half of Equestria.”
Spitfire just stood there silently. Twilight lifted her head, her eyes shaking in her sockets.
“I should never have let them vote for independence!” Twilight yelled, slamming her hoof onto the table. “I tried to be diplomatic; I tried to not just make decrees and rule by fiat. But it looks like that’s the only way to rule a kingdom and keep harmony and friendship intact. I should have bombed those unicorn children at the barn when I had the chance! I would have saved thousands of lives. I took the weak way out, but only strength can win this war.”
Spitfire blinked, as Twilight grinned. “Thankfully, it’s not too late to do what we should have done many months ago. General Spitfire, how do you kill an anaconda?”
“Um…” Spitfire started.
“You cut off its head,” said Twilight Sparkle, brow furrowed as she pointed towards the northern Flatlands.
Pound Cake’s head sat on his cloud pillow as his eyes opened. He restlessly gazed out into the night sky, his foggy breath illuminated by the brightly shining stars above. Shivering, he pulled his jacket tighter around his body. Even in early May, the sky at this altitude was frigid.
He had been living alone for the last month, a vagrant ever since Spitfire had to go to lead her troops in battle. Though he had taken care of himself just fine on his own, he still wished more than anything that he had somepony to call family.
Sadly, he had none. His parents were both dead, his adoptive mother was on the battlefield, and he had no idea where his sister was. He had contemplating flying up to the northern Flatlands to look for her, thinking that Blueblood might have moved her and the other young unicorn children there to farm. But even for a skilled flyer like he was, it would be a suicide mission. He imagined there would be snipers everywhere ready to shoot any pegasi flying over the Second Kingdom.
Briefly, he had considered flying to try to find Rainbow Dash. Perhaps, given her connections, Rainbow Dash could find him a home or guardian as she had done with Spitfire, but Pound had no idea where to look for her. Maybe she was in Cloudsdale, maybe Manehattan. Both were huge cities, and finding her would be difficult, especially since he didn’t even know where to start looking.
Earlier, he had tried flying up to Manehattan to ask the Princess if she knew where Pinkie Pie was. Pinkie and Twilight had been good friends, after all, and Pinkie Pie had been much like an older sister to Pound and Pumpkin. But, after Pound had flown all the way to Manehattan to visit the palace, Twilight Sparkle wasn’t there. The guards said the princess was off coordinating the war effort in Tall Tale and wouldn’t be available until the battle finished. So that left Pound without a lead for the time being.
He wondered about going to an orphanage and just asking to be put up for adoption, but figured that idea would be fruitless. The orphanages were all bound to be full up with children because of the war.
These thoughts and others filled his head as he tried to go back to sleep. He was nearly out of options. As he rested his head on the cloud pillow, a distant light caught his eye.
His head jolted up. Of course. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?
The Everfree Forest: May 2023
Pumpkin Cake’s eyes darted from side to side as she navigated through the bushes and thickets of the Everfree Forest. She made sure to remain hidden behind trees or bushes before checking if the coast was clear. She also wore a dark, hooded cloak to camouflage her bright orange mane and coat.
In the two months since she had encountered the Second Kingdom soldiers and scared them away, she had yet to see any more of them walking around the forest, but she still didn’t want to let her guard down.
Last month, Pumpkin Cake had told Zecora about the incident with the soldiers, and Zecora had asked if she would patrol the Everfree Forest near Ponyville daily. After all, Zecora reasoned, if the Second Kingdom soldiers had made their way into the forest and had spoken about taking it before, how long would they wait until they tried again? If Pumpkin saw any soldiers, she was to run back to alert Zecora so that they could get a head start and run off to Dodge Junction.
Pumpkin Cake was shocked that she hadn’t seen any more soldiers in the forest in the last month. Perhaps her stunt had scared them away, or perhaps they were simply biding their time. After all, the Everfree Forest was just a forest. Surely they had other, bigger objectives.
Indeed, Pumpkin Cake had seen barges on the Everfree River. She had no idea what they were for, but there were only unicorns on them, so she figured they must have been from the Second Kingdom. Perhaps they were military supply vessels, or barges loaded with goods for trading with the Zebra Empire.
As Pumpkin Cake walked along the dirt road, she noticed that the trees were becoming thinner and thinner, and that more light was hitting the forest floor from the canopy. Soon, she reached a point where she could see that there were no more trees.
The end of the Everfree Forest, she observed. She hadn’t ventured this far north in some time, given that she wanted to avoid any more potential run-ins with unicorn soldiers, and she tried to stay out of sight.
She gazed towards the thatched-roof cottages of Ponyville in the distance. Despite the three years of warfare, the town still looked virtually identical to how it had looked before. A few homes had been burnt in the war and its aftermath; their blackened, charred skeletons sticking out among the colorful crowd of houses, but the majority of them still stood.
Pumpkin Cake peeked out of the bushes on the edge of the forest. She didn’t know what she was so scared of. She doubted that there were wanted posters with her face hanging up all over town. Unless she ran into soldiers who happened to recognize her and know that she was a fugitive, she doubted that they would try to shoot or arrest her on the spot, particularly since she was a unicorn.
Come to think of it, was she even a fugitive? She had always just taken it for granted that, ever since she had escaped from Sweet Apple Acres, every soldier in Ponyville had been keeping their eyes out for her. But that probably wasn’t realistic. There were over a hundred other unicorn fillies and colts who the Second Kingdom had captured in Ponyville, and probably even more from the other towns that the Second Kingdom had captured. She doubted that she was missed as much as she thought that she was.
Now, after her encounter with the three soldiers who she had scared off, and the sergeant who she wounded, she might very well be a wanted mare, but that, too, she was beginning to have her doubts about. Would three grown stallions really admit to being scared off by a thirteen-year-old mare? Even if so, there were plenty of mares matching her description closely enough. Orange-maned mares were pretty common, and she remembered one from Ponyville who had a particular fondness for carrots.
Pumpkin Cake contemplated going into Ponyville and taking a look around. After all, even if there were a lot of soldiers, she doubted they’d recognize her. Besides, she had been cooped up in the forest for months. The only time that she ever got to go anywhere was on her infrequent trips to Dodge Junction with Zecora, and she hadn’t been to her hometown of Ponyville since she had escaped from Sweet Apple Acres.
After all, if she wasn’t a fugitive and if nopony recognized her, then she had been worrying all this time for nothing. She was rather curious as to what fate had befallen Ponyville in the few years since the war started. She also wanted to catch up with her friends from Ponyville Elementary. Maybe she could even find out what happened to Pinkie Pie. The pink mare was the closest pony to an older sister that Pumpkin had ever had, and she missed her almost as much as she missed her brother.
Glancing around, she peered her head out of the outermost trees of the forest. She could see the path into Ponyville. Except for a single soldier, the road was deserted.
I’ll just play it casual and walk right past him. If he recognizes me, I’ll teleport into the forest and escape before he calls any of his buddies, she decided.
Keeping her cloak on, she started down the path, her hooves slightly trembling with each step. Her heart raced as she came closer and closer to the buildings at the edge of town. Then, the soldier turned to face her.
Act natural. He won’t suspect a thing.
“Stop right there,” he said coolly, holding up a hoof. “Where is your pass?”
“...Pass?” asked Pumpkin Cake, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. All earth ponies and pegasi are required to have a pass to travel within areas under Second Kingdom control. If you don’t have it, I’m going to have to take you into custody.”
“Oh, that pass!” said Pumpkin Cake. “Well, seeing as how I’m a unicorn, I don’t need one of those, do I?”
She removed her hood, revealing her horn.
“Ah, a member of the master race,” said the guard, smiling. “You’re free to come and go as you please. Though why were you in the Everfree Forest? It’s rather dangerous for a mare your age. There are deadly manticores and timberwolves lurking about.”
Pumpkin Cake remained silent for a moment, thinking. A few seconds later, she said, “I got lost in the woods behind my house. Turns out that they’re connected to the Everfree Forest.”
“I see,” said the soldier. “Well, head on home to your parents, young lady. And be sure to keep your hood down so that ponies can see that you are a unicorn, and you won’t be given any trouble.”
Pumpkin Cake continued along the path, breathing a sigh of relief that the guard had bought her story. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Getting lost was how she ended up in the Everfree Forest initially. Several years ago, sure, but still.
She continued into the town. As she walked, she noticed that the houses weren’t quite the same as she remembered them. When she had lived in Ponyville, all of the houses were well-kept, with fresh coats of paint, flower beds on the windowsills, and new siding. The lawns were green and mowed, and the hedges were trimmed. But now, paint peeled from the sidings. The flower boxes on the window sills were empty, full of dry dirt. Weeds grew in the lawns, which were brown and patchy. The streets outside the houses were covered in trash.
Eventually, she reached the marketplace, about halfway to the bakery where she used to live. She had been to the marketplace several times as a filly, with her parents when they bought flour and eggs. Many ponies once stood at the stalls buying and selling all variety of food, from apples to almonds. She remembered ponies smiling and exchanging bits, with negotiation and haggling at every stall. Ponies stood around the market stall chatting with each other.
Now, though, it was nothing like that. Half the stalls were abandoned. Those which remained had only a small selection of goods. Rather than speaking with one another and smiling, ponies walked around with shifty eyes, not bothering to even say hello to one another.
Pumpkin noticed a few of the ponies glaring at her. She had no idea why, but noticed something odd: only earth ponies and pegasi were at the market, with the exception of a few Second Kingdom guards who stood around to square, levitating assault rifles in front of them. She didn’t know if they were there to stop thieves, or if they were there just to intimidate the townsponies. If it was the latter, that made sense, but if it was the former, she doubted that there would be much to steal.
She contemplated buying an apple, since she was quite hungry, but ultimately decided against it. She only had a few bits on her, and they were all Equestrian. Also, she wasn’t sure if any of the market stalls accepted the currency, or if they used Second Kingdom money now.
“Aren’t you too good for us, unicorn?”
She turned around and saw an earth stallion walking by her, glaring at her. “Why don’t you go back north of the tracks? You tax us to death, you take our houses, you--”
Suddenly, Pumpkin Cake heard a loud smacking sound as a unicorn guard hit the earth stallion with a rifle butt, knocking him to the ground.
“Quiet, dirt pony! Know your place!” the guard commanded, whacking him several more times with the rifle butt.
The guard glanced at Pumpkin Cake and smiled. “If anypony insults you or another member of the master race, let me know, young mare, and I’ll do exactly what I did just now.”
Pumpkin Cake’s eyes widened as she glanced down at the fallen stallion, who had a black eye and several bruises on his face. She nodded at the guard, and continued down the street, past the marketplace. Her heart beat in her chest. What horrible fate had befallen her hometown?
As she walked, she reached the train tracks that bisected the town into north and south, as they had always done. But whereas before, ponies could cross the tracks freely, there were now guards standing just beyond the tracks, levitating assault rifles in their magic. A sign stood by the street which said, “UNICORNS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.”
Though it wasn’t in the direction of her home, her curiosity compelled her to visit the unicorn section of town.
She continued down the street, the guards not paying her any mind. As she walked, she noticed a drastic change from the south side of Ponyville. The houses here were well-kept, their lawns freshly mowed, and their exteriors freshly painted. The cobblestone streets were tidy and swept, and not a single piece of trash stood anywhere.
As she walked, she noticed that, unlike the rest of town, the market stalls and shops were all stocked full of goods. Unlike in the south side of town, most of the ponies here had smiles on their faces, and laughed and made small talk with one another. They were also 100% unicorn.
Looks like Blueblood’s segregated the town, Pumpkin Cake concluded. She theorized that perhaps he was trying to pit the townsponies against one another to discourage a rebellion. If the rude stallion from before was any indication, it seemed to be working.
She continued along until a familiar sight caught her eye: Carousel Boutique. She remembered Rarity a little bit, though she wouldn’t have considered the fashionista a close friend, since she was considerably older than Pumpkin Cake.
Even Sweetie Belle had already graduated from school by the time that Pumpkin Cake turned ten years old and the war started. But, during Pinkie Pie’s frequent parties, Pumpkin and Pound had interacted with them, and she knew them fairly well. Well enough, at least, to see how they were doing. She walked over, hesitated for just a second, and then knocked on the door to Carousel Boutique.
After a few moments, Sweetie Belle opened the door.
“Already said that there’s nopony but me--” Sweetie Belle started, glancing at Pumpkin Cake. “Wait a minute. You’re not one of them. What do you want?”
“Uh, I was hoping to talk to Rarity or Sweetie Belle?” asked Pumpkin Cake.
“And who are you?” asked Sweetie Belle, narrowing her eyebrows.
Pumpkin Cake glanced behind her and around the street before answering. “The Cakes' daughter, remember?”
Sweetie Belle paused for a moment, glared at her mane and coat, and then responded, “Pumpkin Cake? I thought you were taken by the Second Kingdom to grow crops!”
“Shh,” Pumpkin Cake said, gesturing with her hoof for Sweetie Belle to keep it down. “I escaped, and I’m living with Zecora. Try not to spread that around, would you? I don’t want them knowing who I am.”
“Sorry,” Sweetie said, blushing. “Come in, we can talk inside.”
Sweetie Belle opened the door and Pumpkin Cake walked in. She removed her cloak and placed it on the coat rack, and Sweetie Belle gestured for her to have a seat.
“Oh, you have your cutie mark!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, smiling as she eyed it curiously. “What’s it supposed to be? A picture of a pony? How’s that a special talent? Are you good at being a pony? Isn’t everypony?”
Pumpkin Cake giggled. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, I have time. Only a few ponies have been coming by here, anyway, so it’s not like we’ll have many customers.”
“We?” asked Pumpkin Cake. “I thought you said that you were the only one here?”
“Well…” Sweetie Belle started. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure,” said Pumpkin.
Sweetie Belle leaned in towards Pumpkin Cake and said, “Scootaloo and Apple Bloom are here, too.”
“Oh? How is that a secret?” asked Pumpkin Cake.
“They’re non-unicorns in the unicorn-only area of town, duh!” Sweetie said, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, right,” said Pumpkin, blushing. She still had to keep from pinching herself at the idea that Ponyville was now a racially segregated town, divided by the train tracks which once stood as nothing more than something for trains to travel on.
“We were always good friends, and we didn’t want to let some stupid war split us up. Even though Blueblood said that the races aren’t meant to live together, and even though he forced all the earth ponies and pegasi out of this area of town, I still let them live here.”
“Seems dangerous,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Why not just have them move out, and go visit them on the south side of the tracks? I was over there earlier this afternoon. The Second Kingdom doesn’t seem to mind if unicorns visit the south side, just not vice versa.”
Sweetie Belle sighed. “They would live there and have me visit them, but the south side is no place to live. The unicorn soldiers go around to all the farms, market stalls, and shops and take most of the goods as tribute, leaving the non-unicorns hardly enough to scrape by. They abuse all the ponies who live there, and will beat ponies within an inch of their lives for even looking at them funny. They throw their trash all over like it’s a dumping ground. They won’t even let the south side water their lawns, because it wastes water that unicorns could be using.”
“Sounds about right, given what I saw when I was there,” said Pumpkin. “They’re nothing but bullies.”
Sweetie Belle nodded, a disgusted look on her face.
“Anyway…” she said, “Let me go get Scootaloo and Apple Bloom.”
Sweetie Belle walked up the stairs and soon returned with her Crusader friends.
“This is Pumpkin Cake,” said Sweetie Belle. “She’s Mr. and Mrs. Cake’s daughter.”
“Of course I know who she is!” exclaimed Apple Bloom, rushing over and giving Pumpkin Cake a hug. “How could I forget! We were at her baby shower when she was born, and we were at all her birthday parties!”
“Pinkie Pie really knew how to throw a party, huh?” said Scootaloo. “Especially for you and your brother. Those were some of the biggest ones she threw.”
“Well, she always said that since we were twins, we’d have to have twice as big of a birthday party as normal,” Pumpkin recalled. “Speaking of, have you heard anything from her? I sorta came into town hoping that I would see her. I miss her.”
“She stayed behind to take care of the bakery,” said Scootaloo. “You can probably go and find her there.”
“I will,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Thanks for the information, and it’s nice to see you three again.”
“You too, Pumpkin Cake,” said Scootaloo.
“Y’all come back now!” said Apple Bloom.
“Bye!” said Sweetie Belle.
Just as Pumpkin Cake walked towards the front door, she drew back as she heard a pounding right at the door.
“Open up! This is the police!”
The color drained from Pumpkin Cake’s face as she turned back to look at Sweetie Belle.
“Go upstairs!” Sweetie urgently whispered. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom tip-toed up the stairs. Pumpkin Cake followed them, her heart pounding in her chest. Did one of the soldiers recognize her and come to take her away? Or did they find out about the non-unicorns living with Sweetie Belle?
Once they were upstairs, they reached a hallway with three doors. One door stood at the very end of the hallway, and one door stood on either side of the hallway. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo went into the door on the right side of the hallway. Pumpkin Cake followed, and they closed the door behind them.
Pumpkin Cake glanced around. It was a small guest bedroom with a single bed. The bed didn’t have enough room to hide under, and there was no closet.
Scootaloo and Apple Bloom’s eyes widened.
“They’ve come looking for us again,” said Scootaloo.
“Sweetie Belle buys more food than she can eat. Since there’s a food shortage and all, the neighbors got suspicious a while ago, so they turned us in,” Apple Bloom explained. “They search the house every now and then. We gotta hide.”
“This room isn’t exactly a great hiding spot,” said Pumpkin Cake. “The soldiers will open the door and see us. There’s no place to hide.”
“Hide-and-seek isn’t exactly our special talent,” said Scootaloo.
“Does this shop have a cellar or a hidden trapdoor or something?” asked Pumpkin Cake.
“A hidden trapdoor? No, it’s a dress shop!” Scootaloo exclaimed, keeping her voice to a whisper. “What would they need a hidden trapdoor for?”
“Inventory, I reckon,” whispered Apple Bloom.
“Why would they keep it hidden?” asked Scootaloo.
“Maybe it’s the super elite fashion that only special, super fancy ponies get to wear,” Apple Bloom theorized.
“We don’t have time for this discussion! No, there’s no trapdoor!” said Scootaloo, raising her voice to a normal volume.
“Okay, we gotta think of something. Let’s jump out the window,” said Apple Bloom.
“And be seen by everypony in town?” asked Scootaloo, frowning. “No tha--”
She cut herself off as she heard a single set of hoofsteps marching up the stairs.
“I’m searching every nook and cranny, and if I find any mud ponies in this house, I’ll execute them and you right here on the spot, race traitor!” they heard.
“And I’ll guard the base of the stairwell just incase they decide to sneak out behind your back,” said another voice.
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo froze, quivering. Pumpkin Cake powered up her horn, ready for a fight. But, they heard the door on the opposite side of the hallway open up first.
“That room has the attic entrance inside it. It’s a big attic with lots of hidin’ places in it, so that’s bought us some time to think while he looks,” said Apple Bloom.
“But we can’t go down the stairs; the other guard will see us,” said Scootaloo.
“Hmm,” said Pumpkin Cake. She racked her brain for a solution. Then, her face lit up as she got an idea.
“What’s in the room at the end of the hallway?”
“It’s the master bedroom. It has a big closet and a bathroom in it,” said Scootaloo.
“Good. Does either the closet or the bathroom share a wall with this room?”
Scootaloo and Apple Bloom raised their eyebrows.
“Uh, the bathroom shares a wall with this room,” said Apple Bloom. “But that doesn’t do us a lick’a good!”
“Yes it does,” said Pumpkin Cake. She walked over to the wall nearest the master bedroom, and cast her intangibility spell on it. She walked through the wall and saw that she was indeed in the bathroom, though it was pitch black without any of the lights on.
She stuck her head back through the wall, and motioned for the two Crusaders to follow her.
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom blinked.
“Come on,” Pumpkin Cake urged in a whisper, “I cast a spell on the wall; you can walk right through it.”
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom did as they were told, and followed Pumpkin Cake into the bathroom. Right after they did this, they heard the door to the guest bedroom open, where they had been just moments ago. They all breathed a heavy sigh of relief that they had just barely evaded detection.
Pumpkin Cake walked over to the bathroom door which led out into the master bedroom. She placed her ear against it. Only half a minute went by, though it felt like forever standing in the dark. Her heart pounded in her chest as she was aware of every creak.
Finally, she heard the door to the master bedroom open.
“Back into the other room!” she whispered, powering her horn back up as the three ponies went through the wall and back into the guest bedroom.
They saw that the guard had left the guest bedroom door open.
“Hide behind the door.”
The three ponies crowded behind the door as they heard the hoofsteps of the guard pass by as he walked down the hallway and back down the stairs.
“Our business here is done,” said the soldier. “No mud ponies here.”
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” said the other soldier.
“Yeah,” Sweetie Belle said. “I keep telling you that I have a high metabolism, which is why I eat so much! No earth ponies or pegasi here.”
They heard the front door open as the two soldiers left.
As soon as they heard the door close, they all breathed a deep sigh of relief and got out from behind the guest bedroom door.
Pumpkin Cake turned back towards Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, who both had huge grins on their faces.
“That was awesome!” Scootaloo exclaimed.
“How in tarnation did you do that?” asked Apple Bloom.
“It’s an intangibility spell,” said Pumpkin Cake. “It’s my special talent.”
“Your special talent is what now?”
They turned and saw Sweetie Belle standing in the hallway, a puzzled look on her face.
“Oh, just this,” said Pumpkin Cake. She demonstrated her special talent by turning part of the bed intangible and sticking her hoof through it.
Sweetie Belle blinked. “That’s unusual. Never seen that spell before.”
“That’s all you have to say!?” Apple Bloom exclaimed. “She saved our hides!”
“Well, okay, it’s intriguing,” said Sweetie Belle.
Pumpkin Cake groaned. “Do you three always bicker?”
“Pretty much. We bickered from the time that we met in Ms. Cheerilee’s class until the time we got our cutie marks four years later!”
“Four years?”
“Y’er darn tootin’,” said Apple Bloom. “We were late bloomers. It was almost like the stars were aligned against us gettin’ ‘em.”
“Almost like the universe was conspiring against us,” said Sweetie Belle.
“It was awful!” said Scootaloo. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that a higher power was stopping us from getting them, just so that it could laugh at us for not having our special talents yet!”
“But when we finally got them…” said Apple Bloom.
“We rocked!” said Sweetie Belle.
“Emphasis on the past tense,” Apple Bloom noted. “There ain’t too many chances for us to do what we’re good at nowadays.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Hopefully Equestria defeats the Second Kingdom and we can all live in peace again. And I’ll do whatever I can to help make that happen.”
“You seem like you’d be a mighty thorn in their side, what with that spell ‘n all,” said Apple Bloom.
The other two Crusaders nodded.
“Well, thanks for having me over,” said Pumpkin Cake. “I’m off to go see Pinkie Pie, and then I have to go back to Zecora’s before dark, or else she’ll worry about me.”
She gave each of them a hug, and then walked out the door.
Pumpkin Cake walked down the streets, crossing the train tracks. The sun was steadily making its way towards the western horizon, and the day had started to dim. In a few hours, it would be sunset. Pumpkin Cake wasn’t too worried, and figured she had plenty of time.
She finally reached her destination: Sugarcube Corner. The colorful exterior looked like it needed a fresh coat of paint, and the lawn was patchy and overgrown with weeds, but otherwise it looked similar to how Pumpkin Cake remembered it.
She walked up the steps, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached over with her hoof and knocked on the door three times.
After a few moments, the door swung open.
“Welcome to Sugarcube Co--”
Pinkie Pie stopped mid-sentence as she realized that she was looking at Pumpkin Cake. She opened her mouth up wide, and Pumpkin was worried that she’d scream and attract the guards’ attention.
Instead, Pinkie grabbed Pumpkin in her hooves, pulled her inside, and slammed the door shut behind her.
“PUMPKIN CAKE!” Pinkie screamed, now safely behind closed doors. She nearly asphyxiated Pumpkin Cake with a giant bear hug.
“Pinkie Pie!”
“I thought the Second Kingdom took you up to the Flatlands and forced you to farm for them!”
“They were going to, but I escaped,” said Pumpkin Cake. “I’ve been living with Zecora for the past few years. It’s so good to see you again!”
“Ah, I see you have your cutie mark! What’s it stand for?” asked Pinkie.
Pumpkin opened her mouth to speak, but then Pinkie said, “Wait, ooh, ooh, don’t tell me… It represents your intangibility spell that you used to escape from the unicorns and that you’ve been using to show those meanies in the Second Kingdom that they can’t just mess around with anypony they want to anymore?”
“Uh… yes, actually,” said Pumpkin Cake. She was going to ask Pinkie Pie how she knew all of this, but then remembered that she was talking to Pinkie Pie.
“Super duper! Oh, I’m so glad that you came back! After Mr. and Mrs. Cake died, I thought that I’d never see you again.”
Pinkie Pie then started singing a slow, sad-sounding song.
“I almost gave up hope of finally seeing you again, I feared that our friendship had finally met its end. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve always wondered where you are and hoped that one day, I could go that far. I wondered long and hard what I would have to do if I ever again wanted to share a smile with you.
The tempo of the song increased as Pinkie grinned from ear to ear and sang in a more upbeat tune.
I thought I’d have to climb a mountain, slay a fearsome drake, swim across a deep, polluted, eel-infested lake, fight off the Second Kingdom’s soldiers armed with just a rake, kill an evil vampony without a wooden stake, play the flute to charm a deadly poison rattlesnake, eat a thousand apples and endure the tummy ache, work a boring desk job for seven whole days straight, and never leave my cubicle to take a coffee break. Turns out I was mistaken and I’m glad for my mistake, since finally meeting you again has been a piece of cake.”
“Heh heh,” Pumpkin chuckled. “It actually wasn’t a problem getting into town. I thought I was a wanted mare or something, since I escaped from the farm. But I guess they didn’t recognize me, since I just walked into town, and it was pretty easy.”
“You could say it was... a cakewalk!” said Pinkie Pie. Pumpkin Cake groaned at the terrible pun, rolling her eyes.
“Speaking of, where’s your brother?” asked Pinkie.
“No idea. Last time I saw him was three years ago,” said Pumpkin Cake. She sighed, “I could’ve gone with him. If I had it to do over again, I would’ve. I was just too scared at the time. I guess that--”
Suddenly, the front door to the bakery slammed open. Pinkie Pie and Pumpkin Cake glanced over at it.
Pound Cake stood silently at the door, his eyes wide open. He wore a bomber jacket, and his mane was frazzled and messy.
Pumpkin Cake walked over to him, her jaw agape.
Neither of them spoke a word. Instead, they both embraced each other in a hug.
“Yay!” Pinkie exclaimed, “Now I get to sing my song again!”
Pumpkin Cake and Pound Cake finally released each other from their tight embrace.
Pinkie Pie was sniffling and bawling, blowing her nose into a tissue.
“A family reunion… it brings a tear to my eye,” she said.
Pound and Pumpkin Cake chuckled.
“I’m so glad that you escaped that barn, Pumpkin Cake!” exclaimed Pound Cake.
“Yeah,” said Pumpkin, “At first I was worried about what would happen, but as the months passed, I became more and more desperate until I finally just decided to go for it. I escaped through the force field using my intangibility spell. Remember that one?”
“I knew it!” Pound exclaimed, beaming. “I knew you escaped! And yes, of course I remember that spell. You always used to use it to hide in impossible spots during hide and seek. I still think hiding inside of a wall counts as cheating, by the way.”
Pumpkin rolled her eyes. “Only if you consider using natural-born talent to be cheating. If so, cancel the Equestria Games.”
“Ooh, ooh, a debate!” shouted Pinkie Pie, grabbing a tub of popcorn from nowhere as she started munching on it.
Pound and Pumpkin Cake glared at Pinkie Pie, and she blushed, shrinking back as she turned to walk into the other room. Then, the two twins laughed.
“Anyway,” Pumpkin continued, “I didn’t want those Second Kingdom soldiers to find me, and I worried that they were all searching for me. So I escaped into the Everfree Forest. That’s where I found Zecora, and I’ve been living with her ever since. She’s been giving me a lot of magic training. I can teleport now, and do a few other tricks. Magic is actually how I got my cutie mark.”
She showed off her mark.
“That’s cool. But you’ve been living the forest for three years?” asked Pound Cake.
Pumpkin nodded.
“You know, I think that I’d get cabin fever if I was all cooped up like that. And if I couldn’t see any of my friends, and was just living with one other pony, that would be terrible.”
“I agree,” shouted Pinkie from the other room. “Booooring!”
Pumpkin shrugged. “Zecora’s pretty cool. She’s let me live there and all I have to do is find some ingredients and patrol the forest.”
“That’s nice of her. I’ve been living with Spitfire, myself.”
“Spitfire, as in, the top general in the air force?” asked Pumpkin Cake, raising an eyebrow.
Pound nodded, grinning. “She’s been teaching me a lot of cool flight tricks and everything. I might very well be the best flyer in Equestria soon! And that’s how I got my mark.”
He showed off his jetwing mark.
“Wow,” exclaimed Pumpkin Cake, her eyes widening. “It’s a pair of jetwings, just like you always said it would be. That’s awesome!”
“I must be psychic,” said Pound, chuckling.
“So what brings you here to Ponyville?” asked Pumpkin. “I mean, I’m just here out of curiosity to see what became of Sugarcube Corner.”
“Well,” said Pound, “I was curious, too. I wanted to see if I would find anypony that I knew. See, after the Second Kingdom attacked Mareicopa, Spitfire had to get back to commanding the air force. So that left me without anypony to live with. I’ve kinda been sleeping on clouds and stuff for a few months.”
Pumpkin blinked. “Yikes, that sounds awful. How did you get into Ponyville without a pass?”
“A pass?” asked Pound Cake. “What pass? I flew straight to Sugarcube Corner without a problem.”
“Oh, well, all earth ponies and pegasi need a pass, or they’ll be arrested. A guard told me so. There’s checkpoints on all the roads, like the one to get into town.”
“Ah,” said Pound. He shrugged. “Oh well. I can fly right over, so I don’t need no stinkin’ pass!”
Pumpkin snickered.
“So what happened to Ponyville, anyway? It looks like a huge dump,” said Pound, glancing out the window and grimacing. “What, is Blueblood using it as his own personal toilet?”
Pumpkin answered, “Well, they segregated the town. The eastern half of town is unicorns-only, and it’s a lot nicer. I actually went over there earlier today, and caught up with the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”
“Oh, cool. Can I go see them, too?”
Pumpkin chuckled. “I wouldn’t, unless you like being shot at. If they see a pegasus flying over the unicorn section of town, they’ll track you down.”
“Eh, whatever," said Pound. "I’ve had my fair share of being shot at. I’ve run into a few Second Kingdom planes, you know. But yeah, I think if I were on the ground, I’d be an easier target.”
"I see," said Pumpkin. "Well, they haven’t come back into the Everfree yet, at least not since I used a little scare tactic on them.”
“Oh, do tell,” said Pound, raising his eyebrows.
The twins continued to talk for about half an hour, while Pinkie baked a cake to celebrate the twin’s reunion party, which she had just decided to throw. Though the party only consisted of the three of them, since Pinkie didn’t have any time to send out invitations.
“So, what do you want to do now?” asked Pound.
“Well,” said Pumpkin, “I should probably get back to Zecora’s before she starts to wonder where I am.”
“Then I’ll go with you,” said Pound. “I’m not losing you again.”
Pumpkin nodded.
“Aw, you two aren’t leaving, are you?” asked Pinkie.
“We’ll be back to visit soon,” said Pound.
“Yeah,” said Pumpkin. “Don’t worry.”
“Oh, alright,” said Pinkie, a sad look in her eye. “But hey, if you two are ever in Manehattan, say hi to Rarity and Twilight for me. And if you’re ever in Appleloosa, say hi to Applejack. And… well, I don’t know where Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash ran off to, but say hi to them, too.”
“Will do,” they both said.
“Great. Bye!” said Pinkie, giving them a goodbye hug.
And with that, they were out the door.
Pumpkin gazed down at the ground as Pound carried her in his hooves, flying over the Everfree forest. Pumpkin’s mane whipped at her face and ears as the wind whipped by.
“Woah, I’ve never been flying before! This is really fun!” exclaimed Pumpkin Cake. She gazed below her, her eyes widening at the height. “Terrifying, but fun!”
Pound chuckled. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. I ought to actually take you really fast.”
“Let’s do it,” said Pumpkin, grinning. “Some other time, though, because we’re almost at Zecora’s.”
Pound Cake slowly descended into the Everfree, past the canopy, as he reached the forest floor below.
“You sure you know where you’re going?” asked Pound Cake, glancing around the dim forest.
“Positive. I’ve been here for three years. Zecora’s is just over that hill,” said Pumpkin Cake, gesturing towards a hill.
“Okay,” said Pound Cake. They both continued to walk towards Zecora’s, making their way through the thick tree cover.
As they walked, they could faintly hear what sounded like voices and hoofbeats. They continued forward, and the noise grew louder.
“Who’s that?” asked Pound Cake.
“No idea,” said Pumpkin. “It sounds like it’s coming from near Zecora’s hut. We need to go investigate. Make sure you keep hidden behind the trees.”
Pound nodded. The two of them crept forward through the bushes and trees, each hoofstep on the ground deliberately quiet. They soon reached a point where they could just barely make out Zecora’s cottage off in the distance.
Pumpkin Cake peered above a bush, and her eyes widened. There were about a half dozen Second Kingdom soldiers walking right towards the cottage, levitating guns in their magic. They were a few hundred meters from the cottage, but would reach it soon.
“The Second Kingdom,” Pumpkin Cake whispered, ducking back down behind the bush. “They must be on the offensive again.”
“So? They wouldn’t mess with a zebra,” said Pound. “The Second Kingdom is allied with the Zebra Empire, remember?”
“If they recognized her, knew who she was, knew why she had to leave the Zebra Empire and come to Equestria…” Pumpkin paused. “Then, they would mess with her.”
“Oh,” said Pound Cake. “Why? What did she do?”
Pumpkin narrowed her eyebrows. “It doesn’t matter right now; we need to go warn her!”
“Okay,” said Pound Cake, as he stood up from behind the bush. “I’ll be there and back in no--”
Pumpkin grabbed Pound in her magic and pushed him back down. “No, they’ll see you headed there, and then they’ll know something’s up. We need to make a plan.”
“Fine,” said Pound.
“You make a distraction, and then I’ll sneak into the cottage and warn Zecora that she needs to leave.”
“Okay. What kind of distraction?” asked Pound.
“Just, I don’t know, rustle some leaves behind them or something. Make them go investigate.
“How about I do my manticore impression?”
Pumpkin sighed. “That works too, just hurry up! We’ll both meet back here, okay?”
“Okay, I’m on it,” said Pound Cake. He flapped his wings and hovered back over the canopy, careful not to make too much noise, while flying as fast as he could over towards the soldiers.
Good thing I made it here in a hurry, he thought. He gazed down through a clearing in the trees and saw seven unicorn soldiers slowly walking towards the cottage.
“Why does the boss have us in some dark old forest, anyway? Hardly any strategic value here,” one of the unicorns scoffed.
“We have our orders. We’re to comb the area for anything suspicious. And if you question these orders again, you’ll be doing double duty here,” a commanding officer warned.
“Hey, looks like that cottage is something suspicious,” said another, motioning towards Zecora’s hut.
Pound Cake’s heart skipped a beat.
I’d better act fast!
He flew over to a tree, grabbed a small branch, and ripped it off. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed towards the commanding officer. Then, with a swift motion of his hoof, he threw the branch right at the officer’s head.
“Ow!” the officer exclaimed, and then gazed up. But Pound had already hidden himself behind a thick tree canopy, out of view. His stallions all struggled to suppress a chuckle.
The officer’s face turned beet red. “Which one of you insubordinate maggots threw that at me!?”
‘“I think it was Jeroth,” said one of the stallions.
“I think it was Jeroth, too,” said another.
One of the stallions, apparently Jeroth, blushed as he shrunk back. “It wasn’t me!”
Meanwhile, Pumpkin Cake reached the edge of the cottage. She saw the soldiers standing dangerously close, but they were still arguing and had stopped in their tracks.
Looks like Pound’s diversion worked, she thought. She snuck over to the back of the cottage, out of sight of the soldiers, as she walked through the wall to Zecora’s bedroom.
She gazed around and looked for Zecora. Not seeing her there, she walked into the living room, but Zecora was gone.
Pumpkin’s heart skipped a beat. She ran through all the rooms of the house, looking for her mentor, but she wasn’t there. Frantically, she scurried over to the front door, where she saw a note taped to the door.
Dear Pumpkin Cake,
The soldiers are coming with haste, so I must make an escape. In this note, I cannot reveal where it is that I go, or the soldiers may break in, see the note, and they will know. You and I have discussed where we would meet, if ever we were separated. I hope that you see this note and make it.
Sincerely, Zecora
Pumpkin Cake took the note from the door. She knew exactly where Zecora wanted to meet her.
“Alright boys, let’s search this cottage here. We’ve gotta be thorough.”
The soldiers’ hooves pounded at the door as Pumpkin Cake ran to the back of the cottage and hopped through the wall. She ran off back towards the bushes. Pound was already waiting for her, crouching behind a bush, preening his wings while he waited.
“Pound!” she exclaimed.
“Pumpkin, you’re back,” he said, giving her a hug. “The soldiers eventually figured out that the branch must have just fallen off the tree by itself. With a lack of cohesion like that, it’s a wonder the Second Kingdom has been able to win any battles at all. But anyway, sorry that I couldn’t buy you more time.”
“You did fine,” said Pumpkin. “Zecora wasn’t in her cottage, but I stilI know where she is. She and I discussed a place to meet if we ever were separated.”
“And where’s that?”
Pumpkin Cake turned to face south. “Appleloosa.”
In the Northern Flatlands, row upon row of freshly tilled soil stretched across the plains as far as the eye could see. The flat horizon line was only interrupted here and there by large mechanical devices. Adolescent unicorns sat atop the devices, pulling levers and pressing pedals as the tractors tilled the soil, and the harvesters planted seeds.
It was late May, so the planting for the year was about halfway done. After this, the young unicorns would spend time maintaining the crops, making sure that they were watered, pruned, and free of crows and other pests. Then, in late September and early October, they would mount the combine harvesters and reap what they had sown.
The orange glow on the western horizon signified a day’s work had almost come to an end. A unicorn farm crew leader walked around, relieving the young ponies of their work for the day.
Besides the magic in his horn, the farm crew leader carried no weapons. He didn’t need to. The young earth-born unicorns were taken good care of, as per Trixie’s word. They lived in nice rooms, they ate very well, and they commanded much admiration from their peers for their valuable contribution.
Despite this, many of them did indeed harbor desires to escape and return to their parents back in the towns that they had been taken from, but very few tried. It was a long journey of thousands of kilometers, and few of them would have known the way.
The young unicorns formed a single-file line and walked back to the farmhouse. By the time that they reached the houses, the sun had set, and the land was cloaked in darkness. Thousands of stars filled the sky, all visible without the light pollution of the city to block them out.
The farmers stepped inside the farm houses, wiped their hooves on the mat, and prepared for dinner.
At that time, a distant booming sound echoed across the plains. The floor rumbled, shaking pots and pans in the kitchen and rattling dishes on the dinner tables. The farm leader’s ears perked up as the sound repeated itself, louder this time.
“Everypony get down! It’s an air raid!” he shouted. The young unicorns obliged, ducking for cover under tables, couches, desks, beds, and any other pieces of furniture they could find.
The crew leader gazed out the window. Off in the distance, he saw an orange, fiery glow lighting up the night sky.
He puzzled for a moment. Nopony lived off in that direction. There weren’t any targets over there. But then he realized. The farming machines.
The next day, he and the other Second Kingdom farming staff went out to survey the damage. The Equestrian pegasi had destroyed dozens of tractors, seeders, and combine harvesters. Their charred, blackened steel and aluminum skeletons stood on the scorched earth.
“How many were destroyed?”
“Thirty-seven seeders and twenty-five tractors: nearly a tenth of our fleet. We were only lucky enough that this came after we got most of our planting done, and that there were no casualties.”
Blueblood rubbed his forehead with his hoof.
“This won’t be their only attack, I’d bet,” said General Top Brass. “They’ve gone on the offensive, and they’ve scored a blow against the area where we’re most vulnerable: our food supply.”
“This is right during planting season,” said Flam. “We need to protect our farm equipment or we won’t be able to plant or harvest any crops.”
“Is there a chance that we can magically-reinforce the machines so that they can’t attack more of them?” asked Blueblood.
Trixie sighed. “I suppose that we could throw a force-field over them during the evening when they’re not in use. Though then they could just attack them during the day, and kill the unicorns on them as well. But even if we could protect all of the machines, they could still go for our crops themselves. All it would take is a single pegasus with a flamethrower, and they could do massive damage.”
“Is there a chance that we could cast force-fields over the farmlands themselves?” asked Blueblood.
Trixie sighed. “No. It’s much too big of an area.”
“I’ll increase our air patrols in the area,” said General Top Brass. “I’ll also move some anti-air units and snipers in, so that hopefully we can down those pegasi before they get the chance to drop their bombs. But I can’t guarantee our farmlands will be completely safe.”
“More and more of the citizens are complaining about the lack of food,” said Fancy Pants. “Rationing has gotten worse. If we don’t have a good harvest this fall, not only will we be facing mass starvation, we could also be facing a revolt.”
Blueblood paused for a moment. “What about Ponyville? There’s plenty of food there.”
“Not nearly enough for our armies and for Canterlot,” said Fancy Pants.
“There doesn’t need to be enough food just from Ponyville to feed everyone completely,” said Blueblood. “There just needs to be enough to make up for whatever is destroyed in the air raids. Then we’ll supply the rest ourselves.”
Everypony at the table nodded.
“Ministers Flim and Flam. You will be responsible for food redistribution. You are to go into Ponyville and all other farming areas that we control, and confiscate all of their food. General Top Brass, begin drawing up war plans for an invasion of Appleloosa and Dodge Junction.”
“Wait, we’re taking all of their food?” asked Fancy Pants, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. All of it.”
“Then what will they eat?” asked Fancy Pants, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible, suppressing the concern in his voice for the ponies in Ponyville.
The sun edged closer to the western horizon of the desert landscape as the wind blew tumbleweeds and dust all around. Orange and yellow light splashed the sand as the deep blue sky was broken up occasionally by jutting mesas, buttes, arches, and other bizarre rock formations made by thousands of years of wind erosion.
Prairie dogs chattered and squeaked as they burrowed into their holes. Rattlesnakes lay coiled up, ready to strike at any potential prey. Cacti towered into the air above, their prickly spines warding off any animal who fancied a snack. Buzzards circled around the carcass of a dead jackrabbit. Far off in the distance, a coyote chased an antelope. Crickets slowly began to chirp as the air cooled.
Suddenly, the air rumbled from a boom, followed by furious gusts of wind. The prairie dogs crouched in their holes, the rattlesnakes rattled in shock, and the buzzards gazed up in confusion. But then, as soon as the sound had come, it was already gone.
Pound Cake flew through the air at a blistering pace, the air behind him cracking as he shot forward. In his front hooves, he held his sister, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and terror.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Pound yelled, but the wind simply carried off his voice before Pumpkin could hear him, and all she heard was the air whipping at her own mane.
“Hey, I’m gonna stop for a minute,” Pound shouted. He flapped his wings to slow himself down, then gradually descended as he reached the ground. He set Pumpkin down on the ground, then sat down to rest.
“Wow,” said Pumpkin Cake, shaking slightly. “You sure can fly fast, Pound.”
“Yup,” Pound acknowledged, breathing heavily as sweat poured down his mane. “Normally... I wouldn’t go that fast, but I... wanted to show you what it’s like.”
“Yes, and we need to go fast to catch up to Zecora,” said Pumpkin. “She may have caught a train a few hours ahead of us, and she could already be there. I don’t want her to think that I never saw the note and that I’m not coming.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” said Pound in between breaths, nodding his head reassuringly. “If she wanted to meet you in Appleloosa, then she’ll... give you time to see the note and head down there. And she doesn’t know I’m with you, so I bet that you’ll surprise her when… you show up on the same day. She’ll probably just grab a hotel room or something... while she waits.”
Pound continued panting, lying down on the ground as his tongue hung out of his mouth.
Pumpkin chuckled. “A bit worn out there, huh?”
“Yeah, ya think?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you let me take a break and use your magic to get us there?”
“Well, you see,” Pumpkin Cake said, “I can only teleport short distances, like maybe a few hundred yards if I’m lucky, and I’ve never tried teleporting another pony with me before.”
“Then why’d you get a cutie mark in magic?” Pound Cake asked, chuckling, as he sat up. “It sounds like you’re not too good at it. I mean, you only know a few spells.”
Pumpkin Cake gasped. “I’ll have you know that I’m very good at magic! I just focus on being really good at a few spells instead of average at a lot of spells. My true talent is my intangibility spell, not magic itself.”
“So you can walk through walls, big deal,” said Pound Cake, waving his hoof in the air. “I mean, I don’t know that much about magic, but I’m sure that every unicorn and his brother can do that spell. But it takes years to become a master flyer like--”
A devious grin spread over Pumpkin Cake’s face as she cast an intangibility spell on her brother, silencing him. Were Pound’s vocal chords still solid, he no doubt would have demanded to know what she was doing.
Then, she slowly walked over to a nearby saguaro cactus which towered two meters high. Her horn glowed slightly brighter as she herself became intangible, and she phased into the cactus. Then, after a few moments, she re-solidified.
The cactus exploded into a thousand pieces.
Pound flinched as a spiny piece of cactus flew through his head, splattering against a rock behind him. His mouth stood agape as Pumpkin turned off the spell and he return to normal. He shuddered in shock.
“You were saying something?” asked Pumpkin, trying hard to suppress a laugh.
“Well, okay, I admit…” said Pound, his head hung low.
“Yes?”
“That was AWESOME!” he finished, jumping into the air. “I had no idea that you could use that spell on other ponies. That was really neat. And how in Equestria did you make the cactus blow up?”
Pumpkin explained, “Remember that story I told you about the soldier in the Everfree Forest? If an intangible object becomes solid again while it’s inside of a second object, it will displace the second object.”
“Wow…” said Pound, his mouth agape. “That means that you can make anything into a lethal weapon! You could decapitate a pony with a dinner plate! You could turn two rocks into a bomb! Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
Pumpkin chuckled. “The spell has its limits, but I’ve been training to push them. For instance, someday I’d just like to be able to explode the cactus without having to put another object inside of it. Also, I’d really like to be able to move at more than a snail’s pace while I’m intangible. And, of course, I’d like to use the spell on larger objects for longer.”
“I know what you mean,” said Pound Cake. “Someday, I’d like to do a sonic rainboom. Only Rainbow Dash has ever pulled one off, but I’d like to be number two. Also, creating lightning would be really cool.”
Pumpkin nodded. Then, she looked off at the sky. “It’s getting late. We should head to Appleloosa before sundown.”
“I agree. I think I’ve caught my breath enough, so let’s go.”
Pound grabbed Pumpkin, and he took off into the air.
About an hour later, the twins arrived in Appleloosa, just as the sun was making its way beneath the horizon.
The town had boomed in the years since Twilight Sparkle had first become a princess. The railroads between the cities in Equestria’s frontier had expanded, leading to the small towns and villages in between exploding in population overnight. Money and ponies rushed to the town as fast as the trains could carry them.
Once a town with a few hundred residents, a small main street and a few alleys and side roads, Appleloosa now boasted a population over a thousand, a vibrant downtown district, several saloons, and even a brothel. As one of the several small town stopping points on the rail line between the much larger cities of Dodge Junction and Mareicopa, many ponies passed through daily.
Pound and Pumpkin Cake walked down the street as ponies turned on lanterns, and shopkeepers turned their signs around from open to closed.
“So where would Zecora be? Did she mention a place where you would meet in Appleloosa?” asked Pound.
Pumpkin shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess she and I assumed that we’d bump into each other eventually. Appleloosa is a small enough town that it’s hard to get lost in. It’s still smaller than Ponyville, even with all the growth it’s had.”
Pound nodded. “Well, let’s look around, and maybe we’ll find her on the street someplace.”
Pumpkin said, “That sounds like a good idea. We can start with the train station. She and I have gone there before when we were passing through town on our way to Dodge Junction.”
The twins walked along the side of the dirt road, past the buildings and towards the train station. As they walked, some of the other ponies walking by raised their eyebrows at them, giving them curious glances.
“It’s like they’ve never seen a unicorn or pegasus before,” Pound muttered aside to his sister.
Pumpkin nodded. “Appleloosa is an earth pony town. Most ponies here are friendly enough, but there’s a lot who distrust non-earth ponies. Zecora and I never spent much time here; whenever we left the Everfree Forest, we’d normally take a train and just pass through on our way to Dodge Junction.”
“Then why did Zecora tell you that she’d meet you here? Neither of you are earth ponies,” said Pound Cake.
“Maybe because it’s closer. Or maybe she knows somepony here. I don’t know. I’ve kind of learned not to question Zecora’s motives,” said Pumpkin, chuckling.
They searched around the platforms of the train station, but didn’t see Zecora.
So they continued to walk, circling around every street in town, but still saw no sign of her an hour later. Stars had begun to appear in the sky above, and it was now too dark to make out whether any of the fewer and fewer ponies passing them on the street were actually zebras.
“We probably aren’t going to find her tonight,” said Pound. “Why don’t we just get a hotel and look in the morning? I’m beat.”
“As much as I don’t want to lose her, I guess you’re right,” said Pumpkin. “Like you said, it’s not like she’s going to go someplace else and risk me not finding her.”
They walked until they reached a small hotel a few blocks away from the train station. It was a rickety old wooden building with half a dozen windows on the top floor. The shutters were closed on a few of the windows, and light shone through the cracks of two of them. A rocking chair sat on the front porch. It was occupied by an old stallion who appeared to have fallen asleep, his stetson resting atop his eyes as his head slumped on his shoulder.
The hotel sign said that there was a vacancy, so Pound and Pumpkin walked in through the swinging wooden doors.
The lobby was sparsely furnished, with a couch next to a fireplace and a few wooden chairs around a breakfast table. A middle aged pony with a balding brown mane and a tan coat sat behind the counter, reading a magazine as he sat back in his chair.
Pound and Pumpkin Cake, though quite not the height of adult ponies just yet, were still tall enough to gaze across the countertop, where a cigarette sat smouldering in an ashtray next to a bottle of beer. The stallion turned to meet the twins’ gaze.
“Hello,” said Pumpkin Cake. She reached into her cloak pocket with her magic and levitated some bits onto the counter. “We’d like to rent a room for the night, please.”
The stallion set down his newspaper, glanced at the twins, and pushed the bits back. “You’re jokin’, right?”
“I don’t know, Pumpkin, are we joking?” asked Pound.
Pumpkin blushed. “Well no, I mean--”
The manager sighed. “Look, kid, I don’t know what kind of social statement you’re tryin’ to make here, but it ain’t gonna fly at this hotel. Earth ponies only. Get out, both of you, and leave town before I call the sheriff. Or worse, before somepony not as nice as me sees you two out after sundown and takes more drastic measures.”
“Oh yeah, and what are they gonna do? Kill us? Why not show some respect?” asked Pound, hovering into the air and gazing down at the manager, gritting his teeth.
“Come on, Pound,” said Pumpkin, as a field of blue magic enveloped her brother, dragging him away. “We’ll just find someplace else to stay.”
Pound rolled his eyes as they walked out the door and down the street.
“What a jerk!” Pound exclaimed. “I can’t believe he’d refuse us a room.”
“I told you not all the ponies in this town are tolerant of non earth ponies,” said Pumpkin. “I agree it’s stupid, but that’s the way it is.”
“Well, that’s not right, what he did, turning us away like that.”
Pumpkin Cake sighed. “It’s fine. I saw a few more hotel signs on the way. We’ll go somewhere else--”
“We shouldn’t have to!” said Pound. He turned back and glanced at the hotel. He lowered his voice and whispered, “Why don’t we just go in there anyway? I’ll fly us up and you can get us through the wall, we’ll find an empty room, and we’ll be out before checkout time tomorrow. He won’t even know.”
Pumpkin Cake raised an eyebrow. “No way! He may have been rude to us, but it’s his hotel, and I’m not going to trespass just to prove whatever point you’re trying to make.”
“It’s not just to prove a point, though! We could end up having to sleep in the dirt if we don’t find another hotel,” said Pound, stopping in front of his sister and looking into her eyes sternly. “He has no right to turn us away if he has vacant rooms.”
Pumpkin Cake continued walking. “And we have no right to steal from him. The Second Kingdom killed our parents and enslaved me because they felt like they had a right to me, to use me for farm labor. Do you really want us to be like them? To take what we want just because we want it?”
Pound Cake scoffed. “I’m nothing like Blueblood! The Second Kingdom only did that because they think that, as unicorns, they’re better than our parents, because they were earth ponies. The problem was that everypony wasn’t treated the same. If they were treated the same, you never would’ve been fillynapped.”
Pumpkin Cake laughed. “You can’t reason with--”
“Stop right there! This is the police!”
Pumpkin Cake was interrupted as a light brown pony with a dark brown mane trotted down the street towards them at a brisk pace. He wore a black stetson and a blue vest, on which a silver sheriff’s badge was pinned. In his mouth he carried a lantern.
The twins stopped in their tracks as he shone the lantern at them.
“Name’s Sheriff Silverstar, and I’m the law around here. Some folks were complainin’ about a unicorn and pegasus loiterin’ around after sundown. What in tarnation are you two doin’ here? Causin’ a ruckus, from the sound of it.”
The twins remained quiet.
The sheriff tapped his hoof. “Hootin’ and hollerin’ out in the middle of the town while all the good earth pony folk are tryin’ to sleep? There’s a good reason your kind ain’t allowed to live here or be in this town after dark. Now are you two gonna leave town like the law says, or am I gonna have to throw you in jail for the night?”
Pound and Pumpkin Cake glanced at each other.
“Well,” said Pumpkin Cake. “We’re both homeless right now, and just got turned out of a hotel, so we do need a place to stay…”
“Yeah,” said Pound, stomping his hooves. “Throw us in the slammer, or else we’ll wake up everypony in town!”
Pumpkin Cake said, “Jail is what we deserve for being born with wings and horns, after all.”
The sheriff shook his head disapprovingly. “Alright. Come with me.”
The cell doors slammed shut as Pound and Pumpkin Cake walked into the single jail cell in the Appleloosa jail. It was a cramped little cell with a dirt floor, a set of rusty bars, and a grey brick wall. It had a single window, sink, and toilet, though it housed three beds.
Sheriff Silverstar glared at the twins. “Normally I’d tell y’all not to try any funny business and escape with that fancy magic of yours, but seein’ as how you want to be here, I don’t think I’ll bother.”
Pumpkin Cake giggled. “I just think it’s so ironic that you punish non-earth ponies who stay in the town after sundown… by putting them in the town’s jail overnight.”
Silverstar shook his head and said, “Keeps ‘em off the street, at least. And this may seem like a game to y’all, but I’d be grateful that you weren’t lynched. Ever since the railroads came, this town’s been drawin’ a lot of unicorns and pegasi passengers. Some of them made the mistake of walkin’ around town at night while waitin’ on a train, not stayin’ in the station like they’re supposed to… they made a lot of noise, or walked across the wrong pony... and bad things happened to ‘em. I’m just tryin’ to keep the peace.”
Pound’s jaw dropped. “There’s ponies here who would actually kill us for breaking your stupid ‘no unicorns or pegasi after sundown’ rule?”
“It’s happened more than once,” said the sheriff.
“But why?”
“It ain’t always been like that. Generations ago, we used to abide by your kind, and ponies of all sorts lived here, but our welcomin’ nature went and bit us right in the flank. We wised up, and now only earth ponies can live in this town or stay after dark. It’s safer that way.”
“How did it bite you in the flank?” asked Pound.
The sheriff chuckled, and pointed to the wall behind Pound and Pumpkin. “See for yourself.”
The twins turned around and saw a framed newspaper article hanging from the wall, right next to the barred cell window. Pumpkin Cake picked up the frame with her magic, and then levitated it in front of herself and Pound. It was brown and faded from many years, but still legible. They read the paper.
THE APPLELOOSA EXPRESS July 22, 1855
Outlaw Duo Killed, Law and Order Restored In Frontier Towns Criminal rampage of “Terrible Two” comes to bloody end
Citizens rejoiced in the streets of Appleloosa, Bronco Point, Playa del Sol, Mareicopa, Dodge Junction, and other frontier towns today as the dastardly criminal duo, The Terrible Two, finally met their fate in a heated battle outside of Appleloosa.
Upon receiving a tip from a local resident, Princess Celestia and a contingent of royal guards swooped down in the middle of the night, surrounding the Terrible Two at their secret cabin hideout in the desert several miles west of Appleloosa. Volleys of magical spells, explosions, and gunfire were exchanged in a battle that lasted for hours, leaving the landscape pockmarked with craters and arcane energy. The outlaws’ bodies were recovered, and three royal guards were also reported killed.
“Let this be a warning for the Two’s remaining accomplices and any other ponies who live a life of crime: no matter how powerful you are, if you live outside the law, your fate will be the same,” said Appleloosa’s mayor.
Specter the Stallion, a unicorn, and his pegasus accomplice (and rumored lover), Lightning Louise, were the two ponies known as the Terrible Two. They used their skills in magic and flight to rob, steal, murder, and pillage, eventually running a criminal gang and holding the entire frontier hostage under a reign of terror. Even the buffalo were victimized.
It started in the coastal gold mining town of Playa del Sol in March of 1851. A string of bank robberies were carried out by a mysterious masked unicorn, known simply as “Specter the Stallion.”
His modus operandi was unique; he had a magic spell which enabled him to walk through walls, which he used to enter otherwise secure bank vaults and steal gold and money. The mysterious mare “Lightning Louise” was his getaway flyer and cohort.
Over the years, the Terrible Two recruited several other accomplices into their gang, expanding outside of Playa and into other frontier towns. They ran gambling and prostitution rackets in addition to their usual heists, though their identities remained secret.
Whenever Specter’s goons were rounded up by the sheriff and thrown into jail, he simply used his magic spell to set them free. In gun battles he was impossible to defeat, since the bullets simply passed through him.
Lightning Louise, due to her incredible speed, could outrun the police at every turn. She also had command over lightning bolts, and struck dead several deputies. Others, such as prosecutors and detectives who led investigations into their crimes, were struck dead as they slept in their homes.
Despite the work of many detectives, and even a special investigator appointed by the princess herself, the Terrible Two’s true identities remained unknown until recently. Several towns introduced in measures meant to weed them out. Playa del Sol hired a team of expert unicorns and pegasi onto its police force, hoping to counter the Terrible Two and their henchponies. In contrast, the town of Appleloosa, recently hit by a triple homicide during a bank heist, banned all non-earth ponies from living within its borders in 1853. They are also banned from the town after dark.
“Those unicorns and pegasi aren’t to be trusted,” said the local sheriff, Six Shooter. “The Terrible Two could be anypony, and we’re not about to take the chance that they or their goons could be hiding among us, running brothels or gambling houses, or killing our deputies as they sleep.”
The town’s mayor, when interviewed by the post earlier today, said that the laws will remain in place even though the Terrible Two are now dead.
“If we don’t have this law, nothing’s to stop something like this from happening again, and I urge other frontier towns to take the same step.”
Dodge Junction has considered a similar measure to ban unicorns and pegasi from its city limits.
Princess Celestia could not be reached for comment.
Pound and Pumpkin Cake glanced up from the article, having finished reading it.
“Well, that’s kind of a stupid reason to ban unicorns,” said Pumpkin Cake. “What’s to stop a unicorn from just ignoring the law, waltzing into town, and committing a crime with magic anyway? You wouldn’t be able to stop him... or her.”
“You forget, Pumpkin. Racism doesn’t have to make sense,” said Pound Cake, rolling his eyes.
“Also, who do you expect to defend your town if somepony with magic or flight decides to attack? Like, say, the Second Kingdom?” asked Pumpkin Cake.
Silver Star frowned. “We earth ponies are perfectly able to hold our own.”
“Yeah right,” said Pound Cake. “Is that why you needed Princess Celestia and her pegasus and unicorn royal guards to come bail you out when the Terrible Two were camped outside of Appleloosa? Why not send your own stallions there to fight them?”
The sheriff paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “That… that was different!”
Pound and Pumpkin Cake looked at each other, then back at Silverstar, and then they both burst out laughing. The sheriff opened his mouth to speak, but then realized that he couldn’t think of anything to say. So, he simply walked over to his desk, blew out the lantern, and went home for the evening.
As for the twins, they enjoyed a free night’s rest on the Appleloosan taxpayer’s dime.
The sun slowly crested above the horizon as the small town of Appleloosa began to awaken from its slumber. Residents slowly trickled into the streets, and proprietors turns signs around on saloons, diners, and shops from “closed” to “open.”
The town clock tower struck nine as Sheriff Silverstar reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a key with his mouth, and unlocked the sheriff’s office. He walked in, hung his hat on the hat rack, and sat down at his desk.
He gazed across the room to the lone jail cell, where the Cake twins were still fast asleep. He shook his head. Hopefully this meddlesome duo would leave he and his town in peace.
Silverstar reached into his desk, pulled out a stack of files, and began work. Even though it Appleloosa was still a frontier town, the days of the Terrible Two and other infamous outlaws were long past, rail travel and commerce having long overtaken wagon trains and banditry. The town’s crime rate had plummeted over the past century to that of the rest of Equestria.
Thus, only a fraction of the sheriff’s time was actually taken up by patrolling and law enforcement. The rest was occupied by the usual red tape and paperwork about water rights, traffic accidents, rail code enforcement, and other hum-drum mundanities.
The sheriff opened a can of chewing tobacco, placing some beneath his lower lip as he tried to focus on his duties through the twins’ rather loud snoring. He sighed, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of the forms and reports. When he had ran for Sheriff of Appleloosa, this wasn’t exactly the position he had imagined.
About an hour later, his thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the bell above the door as it opened. In stepped a muscular, behatted mare.
“Howdy, sheriff,” she said.
“Mornin’, Miss Applejack,” Silverstar replied. “What can I do for ya’ today?”
“Well, y’see, I’ve been havin’ a problem with the buffalo. They’ve been sayin’ my new picket fence encroaches on their land. But I have the deed to the house, and cousin Braeburn and I both think that it’s mighty clear where the property line is.”
“Ah,” said the Sheriff. Although the buffalo and ponies of Appleloosa had made peace with each other a decade ago, and outright conflict had become rare, there were still many old quarrels that remained to be settled. With many centuries of treaties and agreements between the settlers and the native buffalo, there was plenty of room for disagreement over which document superseded which.
Applejack continued, “The other day, they broke down the fence and trampled all over the orchard. Cost me five young macintosh saplin`s.”
The sheriff sighed. “Well, I guess I can go out to their lands later today and have a talk with ‘em, and try to resolve it peacefully. If that don’t work, I guess y’all might have to go to Judge Blackrobe about it.”
“They don’t exactly recognize her authority,” said Applejack. “They have their own tribal courts.”
“Well, let’s hope we can work somethin’ out,” said Silverstar. “Just give me thirty minutes or so to finish up my paperwork and write tickets for these two.”
He pointed over towards the jail cell.
Applejack raised an eyebrow. “What the hay? Are those…” she started, and then paused.
Silverstar said, “They’re two non-earth ponies who were out disturbin’ the peace.”
“No, I mean, I think I recognize ‘em,” Applejack interrupted.
“Oh?”
“Yes. In fact, if I’m recollectin’ right, I’ve known ‘em since they were knee high to a jackalope.”
Applejack walked over to the cell. She tapped her hoof lightly on the bars a few times. Pound turned over in his bed and stretched his legs out. His eyes slowly opened as he turned to glance at Applejack.
“Pound Cake?” she asked. “Is that you?”
“Applejack?” asked Pound, hopping to his hooves.
She nodded, grinning.
Pumpkin Cake opened her eyes, then shielded them with her hoof to block the sun coming in from the window. After her eyes, adjusted, she glanced over and saw Applejack, and then nearly stumbled out of bed.
“Applejack!” she exclaimed, running over to the edge of the cell to see her.
“I never thought I’d see y’all again!” Applejack exclaimed.
“Neither did we,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Pinkie told us that you left Ponyville.”
Applejack nodded. “What with the Second Kingdom usin’ my barn as a shelter or somethin’, I couldn’t exactly keep farmin’. The Apple family had to leave as soon as the invasion started, and we moved here.”
“Your barn wasn’t exactly made into a shelter. They were using it as a slave labor camp,” said Pumpkin Cake. “I was there with a hundred or so other fillies and colts, but I escaped.”
“They were usin’ children!?” Applejack exclaimed. “Why, the nerve!”
“Those unicorns are no good,” said Sheriff Silverstar, shaking his head. “There’s a reason their kind ain’t allowed here.”
Applejack raised an eyebrow and turned back to Silverstar. “Wait a minute… is that why you locked these two up in here? On account of ‘em bein’ non-earths?”
The sheriff nodded. “They were disturbin’ the peace by walkin’ around after dark, bein’ all noisy as their kind is wont to do. You know the law, Miss Applejack.”
Applejack looked over at the Cake twins, who both rolled their eyes. She turned back to Silverstar.
“That’s a load of manure, Sheriff. I know these two personally and they behave just fine. They might be a handful for a babysitter, but they’ve never done nothin’ worth lockin’ ‘em up in jail for! You just arrested ‘em for bein’ different, but there ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ a unicorn or a pegasus. It’s the pony that matters, not if there’s a horn on their head or wings on their back.”
“We’ve been over this. I know you don’t like the law, but I’m the duly elected sheriff and I’m gonna enforce the law that the ponies voted for.”
Applejack scoffed. “Some things shouldn’t be up for a vote. This law is one of ‘em. This town needs to stop hurtin’ unicorns and pegasi.”
The sheriff turned back to his paper, glancing down at his desk. “This conversation is over. I have work to do.”
Applejack sighed as the sheriff picked up his pencil and started writing again. She walked over to the jail cell, leaned in, and then whispered to the twins.
“Y’all come find me when you get outta here. I’ll be across the street at the general store.”
They nodded.
Half an hour later, the sheriff walked over to the jail cell, reached in his pocket, and unlocked it. Pound and Pumpkin walked out
The sheriff turned to the twins. “Now, I hope I don’t see y’all again, or I’ll have to take more drastic measures.”
“We promise we’ll be model second-class citizens,” Pumpkin Cake said.
“Yeah, I’ll go right over to the blacksmith and have my wings sawn right off,” said Pound.
“And I’ll buy a fancy cowpony hat to hide my horn under,” said Pumpkin.
The sheriff sighed, shaking his head as the twins left through the door. They stepped out into the dirt road. The hot sun beat down in the mid-morning air.
“Oh man,” said Pound, hovering in the air. “It feels good to finally stretch my wings.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Let’s go find Applejack.”
They crossed the street and walked over to the general store.
“Let’s hope this place is more accepting than that hotel,” said Pound.
“Eh, we just need to find Applejack. She said she’d be here. Then we can be on our way,” said Pumpkin.
They opened the door and walked into the general store. It was a single room, dimly lit, about twenty meters square. There were a dozen or so shelves stocked with all sorts of goods: homemade jam, horseshoes, spurs, hats, shears, rope, and baskets full of apples, of course.
A yellow pony with a saffron mane stood behind the counter. He wore a leather vest and a large brown stetson. What stuck out the most about him, though, was his warm smile.
He glanced over at the twins, and grinned from ear to ear. “Howdy! Welcome to the Appleloosa Country Store! Name’s Braeburn, and I’m the owner. Let me know if I can help y’all find somethin’.”
Pound and Pumpkin blinked. As far as friendliness went, this stallion could give even Pinkie Pie a run for her money.
“Well…” said Pumpkin. “Thanks for the warm welcome. We’re looking for a pony named Applejack.”
Braeburn grinned from ear to ear. “Well, I’ll be darn tootin’! As it just so happens, I have her here helpin’ me move some orders today. She’s in the back room as we speak.”
He walked over to the door and knocked at it with his hoof.
“Cousin Applejack! Some ponies are here to see you!”
The door opened, and Applejack walked through.
“Oh, there y’all are!” she said, running over and giving the twins a hug. “I was worried that maybe the sheriff had decided to send y’all over to Judge Blackrobe. Good thing Silverstar let you go.”
Braeburn blinked, turning to her. “Uh, cousin Applejack? Mind fillin’ me in?”
Applejack sighed. “Oh, right. Braeburn, this is Pound Cake, and this is Pumpkin Cake. I know them from when I used to live in Ponyville. They came to Appleloosa so they could…”
Her voice trailed off and she paused for a moment, turning to the Cake twins. “Uh, come to think of it, what are you two doing here? I don’t think I ever asked.”
“It’s a long story,” said Pound Cake.
“Yeah, it’s really, really long,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“Too long, you might say,” said Pound Cake.
“Oh, well we have time,” said Braeburn. “Not like this place ever gets too busy; this is a pretty small town.”
The twins glanced at each other.
“Do you want to go first, Pound, or should I?”
Pound paused for a moment, and then said, “We’ll take turns, one year at a time.”
“...so then Sheriff Silverstar released us, and now here we are.”
About four hours later, Pound and Pumpkin Cake were finished with their story. They had both alternated, largely uninterrupted with the exception of two customers who had come in about halfway through, and with a break for lunch, telling the story of what had happened to them over the past two years.
About a minute passed after they finished their story, the two adult ponies taking time to digest it.
Braeburn finally broke the silence.
“Well, that’s a mighty long and excitin’ yarn!” he exclaimed.
“Land sakes,” Applejack exclaimed. “Y’all make me seem darn lazy by comparison! All I’ve been doin’ these past four years is just farmin’. I ain’t been on an adventure or anything!”
“Well, we kind of skipped the boring parts,” said Pumpkin. “That is, I can’t speak for Pound, but I skipped the boring parts, at least.”
“Yeah, I skipped the boring parts, too,” said Pound. “I don’t think you guys wanted to hear about me going out and flying laps around Cloudsdale every day for a year. Or how I spent two months sleeping in the clouds.”
“Heh,” Braeburn chuckled. “For a teenage stallion and mare, y’all sure have done some amazin’ things in your time.”
“It’s not been by choice,” said Pumpkin. “I think I would have rather gone off to study magic in an actual magic school than hide out with Zecora in the Everfree Forest.”
“And Spitfire’s a great teacher. But I think Pumpkin and I would’ve rather had our parents,” said Pound, gazing at the floor.
“I know the feelin’. I lost my own folks when I was younger than y’all are now,” said Applejack.
“You did?” asked Pound.
“Both of them?” asked Pumpkin.
Applejack nodded, removing her hat as she gazed at the ceiling.
“Still think about ‘em, too.”
“Does… does it…” Pound started. He paused a moment, averting his eyes from Applejack and looking around the shop as if the words that he wanted could be found on the shelves.
Pumpkin finally looked at Applejack and completed her brother’s sentence.
“Does it ever stop hurting?”
This time it was Applejack who was at a loss for words.
“Well…”
A few moments passed.
She continued, “I pride myself in honesty, and I ain’t gonna sugarcoat it. No, the pain never does entirely go away. It’s been over two decades, and not a single day has ever gone by when I don’t think about ‘em. Now, granted, it fades over time, like an old photograph. Right after they passed, I cried every day for a month. Then, I only cried a few times a week. Gradually it went on until I only cried on birthdays, or when I visited their graves. Nowadays, well, I actually don’t even remember the last time I shed a tear for ‘em. But I still think about ‘em all the time. Momma’s homemade apple pie, Pappa’s lasso tricks, how they always smiled and laughed, how they taught me pride in my family, how they taught me to be true to myself. I’m sure you have good memories of your own folks, too.”
The twins nodded, their eyes misty.
“Well, y’all will always have those, so y’all can be joyful for all the times you spent together. And eventually, you’ll find ponies who can replace the ones that you lost. They won’t ever be quite exactly the same, but they’ll be special in their own ways. That’s the way of life.”
The silence after Applejack’s speech was broken by the sound of the bell above the door chiming.
Braeburn’s head lifted up as he walked over to the door. “Howdy! Welcome to the Appleloosa Country Store! My name’s Braeburn. Just let me know if I can help you find anything.”
“Thank you for your warm welcome, good Braeburn. Your friendliness towards me is something the other townsponies here could stand to learn.”
Applejack and the Cake twins’ hair stood on end. There was only hoofed being that they knew who deliberately rhymed when speaking.
“Zecora!”
They ran over to her, embracing her in a tight group hug.
“Pumpkin Cake, and her brother Pound. For hours, I have been looking all around! And Applejack, it is good to see you here! I haven’t seen you in several years.”
“You too, Zecora!” Applejack exclaimed, letting go and shaking her hoof. “I do apologize for some of the folks in this town that you mentioned. Tolerance ain’t exactly their cup o’ cider.”
Zecora nodded. “I gathered as much. Why do they act as such?”
“It’s a long story,” said Pumpkin Cake. Pound nodded when she said this.
“I hear what you say. A story for another day. As for me, I apologize that I was late you see, but here I am at last. Getting to Appleloosa was quite a challenging task. I had to walk south through the Everfree Forest on hoof, and then I continued south as quickly as I could. You two beat me here, but to be fair, I cannot fly with wings through the air.”
“It’s okay,” Pound chuckled. “We had plenty of fun while we waited for you to get here. Didn’t we, Pumpkin?”
She nodded, rolling her eyes.
“Well, this has been a fun little family reunion!” said Braeburn. “Applejack, do you want to show ‘em around the orchard while I close up shop? I’ll be open for another hour, then I’m closin’ early.”
Applejack nodded, grinning. “I can’t wait to show y’all the Apple Family’s new orchard!”
On the outskirts of Appleloosa, on the south side of the train tracks, when the shacks became sparse and the mailboxes were far away from each other, Applejack, the Cakes, and Zecora walked on a dirt road.
The trek took about two hours on hoof. Pound Cake offered to fly them all over in a cart and shave off an hour and a half, but Applejack and Zecora preferred to walk. Besides, the Apples needed their cart back at the orchard for farming.
Other than a few curious glances from passers-by, nopony said anything to them.
“These are all my neighbors. That there is the Whittaker residence. And there’s where Missus Chestnut lives. And here’s my place.”
A gravel driveway led up from the dirt road. A faded wood mailbox that had once resembled a chicken but was now warped with age stood. They walked up the gravel driveway, the rocks crunching beneath their hooves, and eventually reached the old farmhouse.
It was two stories tall, and had a wraparound porch. There was no paint on the house; as Applejack would later explain, nopony really saw it necessary to paint their homes. The dust and dirt would make quick work of the paint, and nopony else painted their houses, so it was just a pretentious waste of money.
Granny Smith sat on the porch, a stetson covering her eyes as she loudly snored away. A few flies buzzed around her, which she lazily swatted at in her sleep.
“Y’all have met Granny, right, Zecora?”
“I believe so, though I think it was quite long ago.”
“Well, I’d reintroduce y’all, but she don’t like bein’ disturbed. So I’ll just give y’all the tour.”
Applejack opened the mesh screen door to the foyer. The wooden door behind it was already open.
“We don’t have none of those fancy unicorn magic powered fans here. Gets too hot.”
Applejack showed them around. The ground floor contained the kitchen and the living room. The upper floor contained four rooms: one for Granny, one for Big Macintosh, one for Applejack, and a spare which had been Apple Bloom’s until she moved back to Ponyville to be with the other Crusaders.
“We bought this home a couple years ago when Trixie and all them Second Kingdom folk kicked us off our land. Got it for a song. It needed a bit of fixer-uppin’, but it’s home now.”
“Do you miss Ponyville at all?” asked Pound.
“‘Course. But home is where the heart is. We Apples have got each other, and that’s what’s important.”
After showing them the inside of the house, she took them through the sliding glass door to the back deck, where rows and rows of apple trees stretched out as far as the eye could see. A fire engine red stallion stood at one of the trees, giving it a swift kick as apples fell from the tree and neatly landed into three baskets on the ground.
“And that’ll be Big Macintosh.”
“Eeyup,” he cooly replied, glancing over.
“Big Mac, ‘course you remember Zecora. Do you remember Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake?”
“Ee…” he started, scratching his head with his hoof. “Sorta.”
Applejack chuckled. “Well, they woulda been a lot littler when you saw ‘em last. Didn’t have their cutie marks, neither.”
“Okay,” said Big Macintosh, walking over to them and shaking their hooves.
“Y’all will have to excuse Big Mac. He’s had a long day of apple-buckin,’ and even when he’s fresh and rested up in the morin,’ he ain’t good at rememberin’ faces. He also ain’t a pony of very many words.”
“Yeah, I seem to remember that,” said Pumpkin, chuckling.
Applejack glanced up at the sun, which was starting to sink low on the horizon as the sky dimmed.
“Well, y’all are welcome to stay the night. Pound and Pumpkin can have Apple Bloom’s old room, and Zecora, you can sleep on the couch.”
Big Macintosh’s stomach rumbled loudly.
“Uh, AJ…”
“Oh, right! You ain’t eaten all day! Must be hungry out here.”
Pumpkin Cake glanced at the orchard, looking at the plump, juicy apples. “Can’t he just eat…”
“No! That there’s inventory!” Applejack said, and then let out a hearty laugh.
They went into the house, where Granny Smith was already awake, boiling a cabbage and apple stew on the stovetop. A warm loaf of bread stood baking in the oven.
“Applejack!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening at the three additional ponies. “You didn’t tell me that we were havin’ guests over! I only made enough for the three of us!”
The Cakes and Zecora glanced over at Applejack, who blushed as bright red as one of her apples.
“Well, Granny… I guess it’s time to eat some of our inventory.”
The five ponies and one zebra sat in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, love seat, and rocking chairs as they digested their meal.
Granny Smith had insisted that she, Applejack, and Big Mactintosh eat nothing but apples for dinner, while the three guests could eat the stew and bread that she had originally made just for the Apples.
“That was a great dinner, Granny Smith! Thanks a bunch,” said Pound Cake.
“Indeed,” said Zecora.
Pumpkin simply nodded. She had eaten too much.
“Aw, it’s nothin’,” said Granny Smith, waving a hoof in the air. “Ain’t no dinner too fancy for our extended family!”
They sat for a few seconds, until a mare’s voice spoke from the front door.
“Hello?”
Applejack’s eyebrows raised. “Who could that be?”
She walked down the hallway to the foyer. A grey-coated, blond-maned, wall-eyed pegasus mare stood behind the doorway.
“Hello, Applejack,” the pegasus said. “Sorry for not knocking, but the door was already open. I’m here on urgent business from Princess Twilight.”
“Oh, howdy, Derpy! Land sakes, today I just keep meeting ponies I haven’t seen in years! Come on in,” said Applejack, opening the mesh screen as the pegasus walked in, dusting off her hooves on the mat.
“I hope y’all didn’t wreck another town hall and need me to raise money to fix it,” Applejack said, chuckling.
Derpy Hooves blushed. “I’m less clumsy now. That was ten years ago!”
“Thirteen,” Applejack corrected. “And don’t worry; I didn’t mind then and wouldn’t mind now, iff’n that’s what you need.”
“It isn’t,” said Derpy, giggling.
“Ah. Well, we’re all just sittin’ here in the livin’ room. Just finished dinner.”
They walked down the hall to the living room.
“Y’all, this is Derpy Hooves. Not sure if any of y’all remember her or not, seein’ as it’s been a long time since we all lived in Ponyville together.”
“I’m Pound Cake,” said Pound, shaking Derpy’s hoof.
“I’m Pumpkin Cake, and this is—”
“Zecora,” Derpy Hooves answered, smiling. “How could I forget the only zebra in Ponyville? You’re the reason that I’m here. Searched high and low, but finally found you.”
Zecora blinked. “I’m quite flattered. What is the matter?”
“You’re needed in Manehattan at once. Princess Twilight has an urgent mission for you.”
General Soarin clutched a metal bar with his hooves as the deck shook violently, throwing officers across the room. The booming of the explosion resounded through the ship, and Soarin’s ears shrieked with a high-pitched ringing.
Grey smoke rose from several of the terminals and pipes as a red light blared and a screeching alarm sounded. Yet another explosion threw Soarin across the room. He flapped his wings and became airborne, just missing colliding with a wall.
Reorienting himself, he gazed out of the starboard window to see the zebra destroyer firing its cannons and guns at the HMS Starswirl. The windows shattered inward. Soarin winced and covered his eyes with his wings as glass shards flew everywhere.
He was unharmed, save for a few bits of glass in his mane. Soarin quickly returned to his hooves, rushing rushed back towards his post on the center of the bridge.
“Status report!”
“We’re receiving casualty reports throughout the ship, sir!” one of his officers reported.
“Heavy flooding reported on the engine deck!” another officer yelled, one of his ears pressed against a sound-powered phone. “They’re trying to bail the water, but it just keeps coming in, sir!”
Soarin narrowed his eyes. “Nav, evasive maneuvers!” he commanded.
The navigator wrestled with the wheel at the helm, the engine creaking and groaning under the pressure as the waterlogged ship struggled to turn. It inched along at a snail’s pace as Soarin gritted his teeth.
Another explosion shook the deck. Soarin felt the floor rumbling and slowly sinking below him. He instinctively took to his wings as it sunk slowly further, the floor slanting towards the aft.
“Bailing operations unsuccessful! The hull is breached! Sinking imminent, sir!”
“Order evacuation procedures!”
The second-in-command grabbed the microphone and spoke over the intercom, “Commence evacuation procedures. This is not a drill, repeat: this is not a drill.”
The officers poured through the exit doors of the bridge as the ship violently shook. Pegasi flew up to the top and escaped through a hatch door in the roof, and the unicorns teleported away. Some of the earth ponies slipped and slided on the now-inclined floor, but the pegasi helped them out and they all managed to escape.
Once outside, Soarin winced his eyes in the bright sunlight as he and his officers ran down a metal staircase towards the senior officers’ lifeboat stationed on the port deck. It was a small boat, containing six seats. The ponies piled into the boat. The water slowly inched further up as the deck itself became submerged. The lifeboat floated in the water, the waves surrounding it, as an officer cut the cable attaching the lifeboat to the carrier. Untethered, it floated in the waves.
Soarin glanced back at the ship just in time to see the bridge and upper decks became slowly submerged, and ponies all throughout rushing to escape.
“Let’s hope they remembered those evacuation drills that we practiced,” said the second-in-command.
“There’s no other option,” said Soarin.
A few minutes later, the ship was entirely submerged underwater. Some of the ponies who had still been trapped at the time of sinking came up to the surface of the sea, gasping for breath. The pegasi went to retrieve them and put them into some of the dozens of lifeboats.
Soarin’s eyes widened as he saw the Zebra destroyer closing in on the wreckage of the ship. The zebra deckhooves grabbed assault rifles and sniper rifles, and fired shots off at the survivors, hitting several of the wounded. The bow cannons fired into the water as explosions ripped apart a lifeboat, sanding screaming ponies flying into the water.
A bullet hit the engine on the officers’ lifeboat, and oil leaked out into the water. Soarin and his officers ducked as the wood and metal of the lifeboat was peppered with more bullets.
“We’ve gotta get out of here,” one of the officers urged.
Another officer pulled the string on the engine. It merely sputtered and failed to start, instead spitting out more oil.
“It’s completely broken!” he exclaimed.
Soarin glanced at a lieutenant pegasus. “Lieutenant Fleetwing, you know what to do!”
Soarin flew up into the air and grabbed some rope attached to the bow. Of the two rope ends, he tossed one to Fleetwing, and tied the other around his torso. Fleetwing did the same.
“Let’s fly!”
They both flew off away from the zebra destroyer, dragging the crippled boat along with them as quickly as they could towards the shore. The other lifeboats followed them, though thankfully, the other boats still had intact engines.
Bullets splashed in the water behind the lifeboats as they outran the slower zebra destroyer. The towering, beige skyscrapers of Tall Tale were just barely visible off in the distance. Soarin’s heart skipped a beat. There was now nothing protecting the city from the Zebra destroyer fleet.
Once the survivors were a short distance from the city and could see the docks, Soarin took to the air, flying above the fleet of lifeboats, barking orders.
“Alright, troops, listen up! The H.M.S. Starswirl was the only thing standing in between the zebra fleet and Tall Tale. We can’t allow them to close in on the city! Pegasus fighters, you are to engage the enemy and prevent them from advancing for as long as possible, while the others are to continue in the lifeboats and retreat to the naval base in Tall Tale, where we will begin a counter-attack. Dismissed!”
The troops saluted. The pegasi took off from the lifeboats, grabbing assault rifles and flying off towards the zebra destroyers.
General Soarin sighed. He knew that the mission had little chance of success. The zebras had proven a formidable foe during the past few months. Their ships were heavily armored and their troops were fierce, and they had taken out pegasus carrier after carrier while suffering minimal losses of their own.
The Equestrian navy was woefully unprepared, equipped with a fleet of fifty-year-old ships. Many of them were still made of wood; the Starswirl had been one of the few newer steel battleships. Before the Second Kingdom and Zebra Empire attacked, Equestria had been at peace for centuries, so had little need for a large, modern blue water navy.The zebras, on the other hoof, had been fighting wars with the gryphons for years, and had the latest military technology.
Soarin and Fleetwing pulled their boat towards the dock in Tall Tale, flying as fast as they could and hoping that the pegasi could buy them enough time. General Soarin, his officers, and his earth pony and unicorn troops arrived on the Tall Tale naval dock in the next ten minutes. They piled out of their lifeboats and onto the docks, rushing into the barracks, preparing for the imminent onslaught.
Air raid sirens, normally reserved for dragon attacks, blared through the streets of downtown Tall Tale, and the residents scurried for cover in storm cellars and under benches. The ponies in the naval base scurried into the bomb shelter, closing the steel door behind them.
Soarin stayed above, gazing out the window of the barracks as he saw the destroyer within a few hundred meters of the port of Tall Tale. It turned to face its starboard side towards the city, and light flashed from its cannons as missiles flew towards the naval base.
Barrage after barrage of missile flew towards the city, knocking into skyscrapers and buildings as yet more Zebra ships arrived.
Downtown Manehattan: June 2023
On the opposite coast of Equestria, the bustling traffic on the streets of Manehattan moved to and fro through the cris-cross grid of the city. Taxi drivers yelled, street cart vendors shouted, and ponies chatted with each other as they trotted off to work, to lunch, home, or any number of other places. The midday sun shone high in the sky, reflecting off of dozens of skyscrapers across the skyline. Steam wafted off of clothes hung out to dry across clotheslines strung between tower windows.
It was Equestria’s most populous city, the city that never slept, and, as of few years ago, Equestria’s capital. The newly erected Equestrian Capitol Building looked more like a modern office complex than Celestia’s royal palace of old. It was a square building which rose ten stories high. Though overshadowed by some of the other buildings in the city, the Equestrian flag nevertheless flew proudly on a flagpole in front of the building, as well as one at the top.
In Celestia’s time, Canterlot had a local ordinance which banned the construction of any buildings higher than the castle spire, but Manehattan had been a city since before the capitol was relocated there. The older, taller skyscrapers were grandfathered in under the previous rules.
Rather than sitting at a throne room, which she found passé, Twilight Sparkle instead sat inside of a modestly-sized office on the top floor. She could gaze out the window and see most of the city, as well as the east coast of Equestria. Unlike her predecessor Celestia, and unlike King Blueblood, Princess Twilight didn’t much care for pomp and circumstance, preferring to conduct her royal duties in a routine office environment with file cabinets and desks for organizing business and affairs of the kingdom. She had no idea how the late Celestia had ever run a kingdom by sitting on a throne all day and listening to ponies’ complaints in her court.
Twilight levitated a metal ink pen in front of her as she wrote yet another letter on A4 white copy paper. Her old feather quills and parchment had gone the way of the candle light that she had used back in the Ponyville library when she used to live there. Gone, too, was the endless parade of ponies waiting for an audience with the princess in her royal court. Instead, Twilight had a new procedure to more efficiently address ponies’ concerns: all complaints were to be submitted in writing. With this, she was able to respond to far more ponies than Princess Celestia, and in half the time.
Though she was unelected, Twilight still felt the desire to be responsive to her subjects. Despite Blueblood’s self-proclaimed title as King, even he was elected, and with a high margin of victory at that. Though his more recent victories, Twilight suspected, were rigged. She had no idea how the leader of a starving and warmongering kingdom could maintain such high popular support and win election after election. Twilight was well aware that, if she failed in her duties as monarch, the ponies of Equestria would have absolutely no recourse short of open rebellion. So she determined not to fail.
Her horn strained as she put it down to rest for a moment. Perhaps she should’ve invested in a typewriter, but she had always found hornwritten letters to be more personal.
“Too bad that Spike is on vacation,” she sighed. She levitated a cup of tea up to her lips, taking a sip. She gazed out the window towards the ocean and the freighters and sailboats sailing in it. It was hard for her to believe that there was a war raging half a continent away.
She heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she said, setting down her tea.
General Spitfire walked through the door, saluting and removing her cap to reveal a sweaty orange mane.
“Have a seat, General Spitfire,” said Twilight. “You look exhausted.”
Spitfire nodded. “Sorry, I’ve been flying here all day from Tall Tale.”
“That’s alright,” said Twilight, offering a towel to Spitfire. The fiery pegasus graciously wiped her brow on it.
“News from the western front?” asked Twilight.
Spitfire sighed, shaking her head. “It’s not looking good, that’s for sure. We’ve had to divert resources away from containing the Second Kingdom in order to combat the zebras. We’ve been losing ponies left and right. They’ve been heavily shelling Tall Tale and Vanhoover; the cities have been under near-constant siege every day for a week. General Soarin’s navy is almost entirely gone. We need more ships and planes.”
Twilight nodded. “The factories in Fillydelphia are hard at work. In fact, I have a meeting coming up shortly to address just that.”
Spitfire sighed. “Though even if we get them, it might be too little, too late at this point. Ever since they overran our naval defenses at Tall Tale last month, the zebras have continued to land ground troops, and they now control vast swathes of the surrounding countryside, and have cut off many of our supply lines. They’re tough foes.”
Twilight Sparkle glanced behind Spitfire and noticed that Zecora stood in the doorway.
“Speaking of,” said Twilight. “Please, come in, Zecora.”
Zecora walked inside, bowing to Twilight Sparkle.
“Spitfire, I don’t think you and Zecora have ever met.” She motioned towards each of them. “Spitfire, Zecora. Zecora, Spitfire.”
Spitfire extended a hoof towards Zecora, smiling. “Twilight Sparkle has mentioned you before. So has Pound Cake. I was looking after him until the war started back up, and then I had to go to the front lines. But he’s a tough kid; he’ll make it on his own. Anyway, he sent me a letter a few weeks ago telling me all about how he was doing. He mentioned he was in Appleloosa, and he met you, and that you were looking after his sister in the Everfree. Nice to finally meet you in real life, Zecora.”
“What a small world, and the pleasure is mine as well!” she said, shaking Spitfire’s hoof. Then, she turned towards Twilight. “Princess Twilight, did you have something to tell?”
“Oh, right,” said Twilight Sparkle, clearing her throat. “Spitfire, I’ve told you about Zecora’s background in the Zebra Empire, and why she was forced to flee the country.”
“Yeah,” said Spitfire. “I think I remember that. I couldn’t really blame you, Zecora. That place sounds messed up.”
“It is ‘messed up’ in every way, this is true. If I never go back, it will be too soon,” Zecora shuddered.
Twilight blushed, and then sheepishly scratched her head with her hoof. “Well… you see…”
Zecora narrowed her eyes.
“Yeah, uh… I’m gonna need you to go ahead and go back to the Zebra Empire.”
Zecora raised an eyebrow. “What for? Have you not heard that there is a war?”
Twilight put up a hoof. “No. Wait, I mean, yes, there is a war. I’m well aware.”
“I’ve been telling Twilight all about it, in fact,” said Spitfire, turning to Zecora. “The Zebra Empire is making serious gains on the west coast of Equestria, shelling all of the major cities. They don’t even care if they kill civilians at all. In fact, I think that they try to. For all its faults, at least the Second Kingdom doesn’t recklessly fire into cities.”
Zecora shook her head, gazing at the floor.
Spitfire continued, “The Zebra Empire, along with the Second Kingdom, who have taken all of the Everfree River, have cut off the western part of Equestria by encircling it. Now it’s separated from the east, where Fillydelphia, Manehattan, and the other big cities are.”
Zecora nodded. “I have seen the unicorns come into the Everfree before. I wasn’t aware of my former nation’s role in the western theater of the war.”
Spitfire continued, “Since they’ve taken the Everfree River, the only good way to get reinforcements over to the west is to have pegasi fly the reinforcements from here and over the Second Kingdom, but that’s hostile territory, and we’re short on Pegasi, since so many of them defected to the Cloud Confederacy.”
“I see, and that is why I am speaking to you two,” said Zecora. “What is it that you want me to do?”
Twilight said, “I’m familiar with your past, and as I understand, you had access to Emperor Zaporizhia.”
Zecora nodded.
“Can you get access to him again?”
Zecora pursed her lips. “It would be very hard, I will not lie. But I believe that I can if I try.”
Twilight continued, “From what you’ve told me, and from the limited military intelligence we have on the Zebra Empire, the zebras worship Zaporizhia and believe him to be a physical manifestation of god, yes?”
“Most of them did, a few did not. They were foolish, for an atheist zebra will be shot. I never let them know my own nonbelief; if I had, I surely would now be six feet deep.”
“Well, if the Zebras were shown that Zaporizhia is just a mortal zebra, able to die...” Twilight started.
“...and if they were shown that the consequence of attacking our cities is for us to attack theirs…” Spitfire added.
Zecora pursed her lips. “I believe that I understand. You two have an assassination plan.”
“Actually,” Twilight said, pausing a moment, “it’s just theoretical at this point. There’s no actual plan to assassinate him, because we’re not sure of how it could be done. The pegasus scouts that we’ve sent over have either been shot out of the sky, or they couldn’t see inside of the Emperor’s palace. If, in fact, we even had the right building at all.”
Zecora nodded. “I could get inside. The question is, do you want only him to die? Or shall I take out others as well? Please, do tell.”
Spitfire said, “Well, take out as many as you can, obviously, but I really want to see something completely demoralizing done to them. Like, some sort of larger attack. Something that will discourage those zebra zealots in their army and give us the upper hoof.”
Zecora smiled. “Well, I believe that I have a hunch. But at the very least, it will take a few months. Perhaps even years, to be fair. But the damage I would do would put the Empire beyond repair.”
“Okay, but try to hurry,” said Spitfire, crossing her hooves. “Our troops are getting eaten alive out there.”
“As will the zebras, but in due time. You have my word that they will pay for their crimes.”
“Thank you, Zecora,” said Twilight. Then, her eyes widened as she gazed at the grandfather clock up on the wall.
“Look at the time! Zecora, I’d love to stop and talk, but I have another meeting to go to, so we’ll have to wait,” said Twilight, frantically rummaging through her desk with her magic.
Zecora chuckled. “It is quite alright, Princess Twilight.”
“I’ll see you both in a bit!” Twilight promised, gathering together some papers and rushing out the door.
In a conference table on a different floor of the same capitol building in Manehattan, a small group of ponies sat. The stallions wore nice suits and ties, and the mares wore fancy dresses.
A dark grey unicorn pony glanced at his watch, sighing as he tapped his foot.
“I have a factory to run,” he said. “I know that she’s the princess, but she should at least be on time!”
“Well, I have patients back at the hospital,” said a tan-coated, chocolate-maned stallion in a white lab coat.
“And ah have cherries to get to harvestin’,” said a cream-colored mare with a maroon mane.
“What are we all doing here, anyway?” asked the doctor.
The conference room door opened as Twilight rushed through, papers floating in her magic. She teleported over to the head of the table and set her papers down in front of her.
“Sorry that I’m late,” she said, catching her breath.
“It’s quite alright, Miss Twilight; we know that you have a kingdom to run,” said a beige pony with a sleek, jet-black mane and baggy eyes. An unlit cigar hung between his teeth, which spread wide in a grin.
“So, Filthy Rich, since this meeting was your idea, how about you fill everypony in on its purpose?” asked Twilight, motioning towards him with a hoof.
“Alright, then,” said Filthy Rich, slicking back his hair and sitting forward in his chair. “This is the first meeting of the Equestrian Economic Council. As some of you may know, the war isn’t exactly going in our favor. I believe it is because we aren’t promoting businesses and encouraging factories to make weapons and armor, farmers to grow food, and doctors to tend to the wounded.
“We’re here today to ensure that Equestria can win the war by getting our economy and industry running. So, I’ve picked out the best and brightest of Equestria’s business leaders to join us here, and make suggestions to Miss Sparkle here about what we can do to help the war effort by helping the economy.”
“We don’t want to be like the Second Kingdom, with all of their food shortages and bankrupt factories that are only kept running at gunpoint,” said Twilight Sparkle. “We want to have a healthy economy.”
“So,” Filthy Rich began, smiling. “Let’s start with you, Jet Set and Upper Crust.”
“Well,” said Jet Set, a steel grey unicorn with a charcoal mane, “I know a lot about the Second Kingdom, since my wife and I used to run an airplane and munitions factory there. At first, Blueblood was our best customer. But as the economy started to falter, he kept demanding steeper and steeper discounts, and told us that it was our ‘racial duty’ as unicorns to make his warplanes no matter the price he demanded. We were supposed to care more about the so-called master race than money, and being ‘liberated, racially-conscious unicorns’ was supposed to be payment enough.”
He scoffed, waving his hoof in the air mockingly.
“As much as Jet Set and I are proud to be unicorns, we weren’t proud to be running an unprofitable business that was hemorrhaging money,” said the azure-maned, lemon-coated Upper Crust, pausing for a moment as she levitated a cup of tea to her lips. “We fled for Fillydelphia and opened up a new war factory.”
“As for our suggestions,” said Jet Set, “we can start off with higher prices being paid for the products that we sell to the Equestrian government. Somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty thousand bits per plane and ten million bits per warship would be more than enough to grease the wheels.”
Twilight’s jaw dropped. “Twenty thousand? Ten million? Our treasury can’t afford that without deficit spending!”
Jet Set nodded. “If you have to go into deficit spending to buy our planes, that’s fine, because then you will make it all back when the economy starts growing, as it does in wars. Think of how much money that will pump back into the economy. Our fighters deserve only the best planes and warships, after all.”
Twilight scribbled this down. “I see.”
“We also could use some legal changes,” said Upper Crust. “For one, our workers aren’t willing to work as hard as we need them to. You want us to produce more airplanes, warships, and munitions, yes?”
Twilight nodded.
Upper Crust continued, “Well, you can start by assisting us in breaking a strike. You see, our employees have been striking over the past few weeks. We pay them plenty, but they insist that they should work fewer hours. We haven’t been able to get them back to work. Get them off the streets and back into the factory. Send the riot police in if you have to. And furthermore, collective bargaining is a waste of money. Help us disband the unions, outlaw exclusive union agreements, and we’ll be more profitable.”
Twilight started, “Well, I don’t know if I should allocate state resources to breaking a strike--”
“Trust us, you should,” Jet Set interrupted. “We’ve made millions of bits doing this; Upper Crust and I know what we’re doing.”
“We’ll gently nudge them in the right direction,” said Twilight Sparkle, writing it down.
“Good!” said both Jet Set and Upper Crust in unison.
The meeting continued in the same manner, with the other representatives of other sectors of the economy weighing in and giving their opinions. Twilight reassured them that she’d take all of the measures into careful consideration.
Appleloosa: August 2023
A soft breeze rustled through the apple trees in New Sweet Apple Acres as the sun has just barely begun to peek over the eastern horizon. The rooster crowed as the animals awoke from their slumber. Songbirds were whistling their morning tunes, and voles and jackrabbits were climbing out of their burrows. It was, by any account, a peaceful and serene morning.
But those never last for long.
“No way you win this, sis!”
The rabbits scurried back into their holes as a tan and brown blur whooshed by, shaking the apples and leaves from an entire row of trees. Birds scurried from the trees and flew off in all directions. Several of the apples on the trees fell to the ground, scattering all about.
“Pssh. Look at how many of those that you’re leaving on there. You’ll have to make several passes at those trees, and then you’ll have to come and pick every apple up from the ground and put them into the baskets. By then, I’ll have two entire rows done.”
A blue glow surrounded every single apple on one of the trees as they floated off and neatly piled into the baskets below.
“Slow and steady wins the race,” Pumpkin Cake added, heading off to the next tree and repeating the process over again, horn aglow.
Pound flew back, making another pass as yet more of the still lingering apples fell off the tree.
“Yeah, this isn’t a fairy tale,” said Pound, chuckling. “I’m already almost done with my row. And as I remember you saying, it’s not easy to grab so many objects with magic all at once.”
“I’ve been practicing my magic. As long as you don’t break my concentration by flying around all over the place, it’s a cinch,” said Pumpkin, narrowing her eyes as she completed tree number two and moved onto the third.
“This is a contest, Pumpkin! I’ll distract you all I want!”
Pound flew in front of Pumpkin, zipping around and around her head like a fly. Pumpkin sighed, her horn lighting up, and her brother found himself frozen in place.
“It’s no contest! We’re just helping out Applejack,” she reminded, as the third tree’s apples slowly but steadily floated off. “I mean, she’s been nice enough to let us stay here for the past three months for nothing in return. Don’t you think that we should contribute, that we shouldn’t freeload? We should do a good job no matter how long it takes.”
“Eh,” said Pound, shrugging. “I guess.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Then let’s get back to work and do a good job.”
Pound flew off and continued his method of zipping through the trees and forcing the apples off through shockwaves, and Pumpkin continued telekinetically grabbing many of them at a time.
Pound finished all of his rows a few hours later, and then flew off to Pumpkin to brag, as she still had an entire row to go. Though he insisted that he had finished before her, she walked over to his side of the orchard and inspected the trees, still finding a few apples either stuck on the trees or scattered on the ground, not in baskets like the others. She insisted that he hadn’t truly finished the job and that the race, if ever there was one, was actually still on. Pound begrudgingly combed his rows over again as Pumpkin worked on finishing hers.
In the end, they both finished at around the same time, but were on opposite ends of the orchard. They both rushed to the center of the field, each bragging at their accomplishment, but with no exact way to know who won. Who exactly finished first would remain a contentious debate for many minutes to come, at which point it would be promptly forgotten by the next bit of sibling rivalry to arise between the twins.
A short time after the twins finished, Applejack and Big Macintosh walked out of the sliding glass door and onto the back patio. Applejack’s mouth opened wide in a yawn; her felt white sleeping stetson still sat atop her head. Her eyes were still half closed, and she wiped the sleep from them as she struggled against the blinding sunlight to open them.
“Don’t y’all know it’s sunday? It’s a day of rest ‘round here…” her voice trailed off as she yawned again.
Big Macintosh interrupted, “Uh, AJ...”
Applejack looked out at the orchard and she blinked several times as she saw that every tree was bare, and all the apples were in baskets on the ground.
“What the hay? All the apples are harvested!” Applejack exclaimed.
“But who coulda…” Big Macintosh started, his voice trailing off.
Then Applejack exclaimed, “The apple elves! I knew they were real!”
But suddenly Pound flew over, while Pumpkin teleported in front of them in a flash of light.
“Surprise!” they both shouted in unison.
Applejack raised an eyebrow. “Y’all did this?”
The twins nodded, grins on their faces.
“Land sakes! How?”
“We’re just quick,” said Pound.
“And where did y’all get all these baskets? We only have a dozen or so; but I see at least three baskets for each of the hundreds of trees,” said Applejack.
“Well…” Pumpkin started, but then raised an eyebrow. “Actually, I don’t know. Pound, how did we get all these baskets?”
“Oh, I just flew around before dawn and borrowed them from some nearby apple orchards. It’s Sunday anyway, like you said. I’ll have them back before they’re missed.”
Applejack chuckled. “Well, that ain’t exactly the most honest thing to do, but I know most of the neighbors ‘round here, and I don’t think they’ll mind.”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.
“I still can’t believe that y’all harvested all these apples in a single mornin’. It woulda taken Big Macintosh and I at least a few days. I mean, we had less baskets to work with and hafta make back and forth trips to the cellar, but even still!”
“Well,” Pumpkin started, “Blueblood does say that unicorns are the master race. Maybe he’s right.”
There was only silence at Pumpkin’s joke. She blushed slightly, shirking back. Then, all four ponies burst out laughing.
Ponyville, August 2023
A large crowd of ponies gathered in the town square of Ponyville, murmuring among each other. They had seen posters hung up all over the town the last few days, advertising an announcement to be made in the town square. The posters hadn’t been hung in the unicorn section of town, so the only unicorns who were present were those who had wandered over to see what the commotion was about.
A giant wooden stage had been set up in the town square, reminiscent of a certain great and powerful mare who had taken her stage show to Ponyville some fifteen years prior, only to be humiliated by an ursa minor. This stage, however, had red instead of blue curtains. And it was slightly taller. Also, it was guarded by two unicorns on either side, dressed in all black and levitating assault rifles in a threatening manner to keep the crowd in check.
“So when’s the announcement? You’re already twenty minutes late! Some master race you are, not even keeping track of the ti--”
One of the unicorns on stage pointed his assault rifle towards the recalcitrant earth pony, who got the message and quit speaking.
Meanwhile, the Second Kingdom ministers Flim and Flam stood backstage.
“Flim, you need to adjust your tie,” said Flam. His horn lit up as he adjusted his brother’s bow tie.
“Ah, thank you, Flam,” said Flim. “Your hat is on a little crooked.”
“Is it?” asked Flam. He gazed in the mirror. “By jove, you’re right! Good catch!” He straightened it.
“So, do you have our speech memorized at all?” asked Flim.
“Well, my portions of it, yes,” said Flam, nodding.
“Your portions?” Flim’s pupils dilated. “Flam, you were supposed to give the entire speech by yourself! Your voice is far more sultry and encouraging than mine!”
“We’re twin brothers. Twins do everything together, do they not? Harvest apples together? Fight wars together? Give speeches together?” asked Flam.
“Yes, but not this particular speech! Propaganda Minister Fancy Pants wrote it for us, and it’s a serious speech that’s meant to inspire calm before the bad news that we have to tell these ponies, that we’re going to be taking all of their apples for the winter!”
“Pfft,” Flam scoffed, waving his hoof in the air. “What does that old geezer know about putting on a good show? Did he ever sell a hundred bottles of worthless tonic in a single day? Did he ever scam an entire island town by closing down the only bridge and demanding gemstones to repair it?”
“Well, no, he didn’t,” said Flim. “But Fancy Pants did sell a lot of copies of Blueblood’s magic book and Blueblood’s autobiography…”
Flam took a step towards his brother. “Yes, and do you know why? Because Blueblood’s magic book is actually useful and contains real magic spells that ponies can actually use. Like it or not, we’re scam artists, Flim. Sure, we can engineer useful things too, but who wants to make a living that way? I mean, Blueblood still hasn’t even paid us for all of those mechanical tractors and combine harvesters that we made for those young unicorn fillies and colts to farm with.”
“Oh, of course he paid us,” said Flim, chuckling as he rolled his eyes. “You mean to say that being a proud member of the unicorn master race isn’t payment enough for you?”
“I already was a unicorn before!” exclaimed Flam, pointing towards his horn. “My point still remains, though. We’re about to scam this town out of all of its food. Should we use Fancy Pants’ reencouraging speaking technique, or our song and dance scamming technique?”
“Hmm…” said Flim, scratching his chin. “I see your point.”
The curtain rose, and the murmuring crowd became silent as Flim and Flam walked out onto the stage.
Flam put a record on a phonograph machine, lifted the needle, and a zippy tune began to play. Then, he sung.
“Welcome town of Ponyville to see our humble show. My brother Flim and I have something we want you to know. A terrible disaster has befallen ponykind We need your help to make it well, so won’t you please be kind?”
Flim trotted up onto the stage and sang the next four lines.
“This little town of Ponyville, it has its rustic charm. My brother Flam and I hope not to cause you false alarm. You see all of the apples hanging all around the trees? Such luscious harvest isn’t that way everywhere, you see.”
Flim and Flam pointed off into the distance where the apple orchards stood, including the former Sweet Apple Acres as well as other farms in Ponyville. All of the trees had plump, juicy apples ready for harvest.
“That’s right, Ponyville. Not all places in Equestria will have ripe, delicious apples to eat this winter,” spoke Flim.
“It’s a shame. There’s children starving in Zebrica, you know!” Flam exhorted.
“Not just Zebrica, my dear brother, but right here on the Equestrian continent itself!” Flim exclaimed, dramatically pointing with his hoof.
“You don’t say!” said Flam, putting his hooves up to his mouth in feigned shock. “Let’s enlighten everybody!”
They both sang.
“Yes everywhere you look you see far too much scarcity We’re Flim and Flam, we’ve got a plan to run a charity. How can you all eat oh so much when there’s others in need? Please be kind and give a slice to your fellow pony!”
Unlike the previous times they had done their songs, nopony in the crowd sung along with them. Instead, they all stood silently, many of them with their arms crossed, most with frowns on their faces, some of them yawning.
Undeterred by this cold reception, Flam spoke, “Now, you see, in the town of Hollow Shades, there are plenty of bayou ponies with missing teeth, a third grade education, and not enough gumbo in their pot! And after the hurricane--”
“That’s right, the starving and famished town of Hoofington is--” Flim started. “Wait a minute. I thought we were doing Hoofington, Flam.”
“No, we’re doing Hollow Shades! It’s the perfect one to do! Even the name sounds depressing!”
“Well, alright,” Flim conceded. “This food will go to the starving residents of Hoofington!”
Their flubbing aside, everypony in the audience still knew full well that the food would go straight to the Second Kingdom.
Since the Flim Flam brothers had taken too long to remember the “correct” town, while they were still talking, the record had started to play the part where they were supposed to be singing the chorus. Realizing that they had to play catchup, they started hastily singing from the middle.
--all eat oh so much when there’s others in need? Please be kind and give a slice to your fellow pony!”
Flam spoke, “Now, this terrible famine would be over in five minutes if you all would just each donate a thousand apples a piece, starting now...”
Unlike everything the brothers had said before, which had drawn little more than blank stares, this statement actually elicited a shocked gasp from the crowd.
“Scam artists!” one pony yelled.
“Liars and cheats!”
“Go back to the Second Kingdom and leave our town in peace! Ponyville is Equestria!” another yelled, getting applause.
“How about them apples?” said a pony, throwing an apple right at Flam, which was impaled on his horn.
He swatted it away with his hoof. “Get it off, Flim!”
Everypony laughed as they started grabbing rocks and bottles from the ground and throwing them up at the stage.
“Stupid unicorns!”
One of the guards fired off warning shots into the air. The other fired into the air as well, but was rushed by an earth pony who went to go knock over the phonograph and stop the annoying record. The guard, startled, turned his weapon on the earth pony, firing at him. The earth pony fell to the ground, bloodied.
The crowd screamed, with many of them running, and others jumping up onto the stage. The guards both turned their rifles into the crowd, unloading their magazines as several ponies fell to the ground. The rest of the crowd fled in terror, hiding in nearby alleys and backstreets. The guards simply stood their ground, holding their rifles at the ready.
“Well, this was a disaster,” said Flam, his freshly-pressed carnival shirt now covered in apple mush and blood spatters.
“Shall you tell them the truth, or should I?” asked Flam.
“You can, brother.”
Flam shouted into a megaphone so loudly that the whole town could hear.
“We’re taking all of the town’s food to give to the starving unicorns in the Second Kingdom! Deal with it and be shot!”
“Uh… don’t you mean, deal with it or be shot?” asked Flim, raising an eyebrow.
Flam glanced at the half dozen ponies lying on the ground, the trigger-happy guards standing cooly at attention as if nothing had happened, and at the now-empty town square in front of him.
A steely grey sky hung over the city of Fillydelphia as smoke from many factory smokestacks wafted into the air. Ponies trudged around on grimy and sooty roads, down streets, and over bridges, the largest of which spanned the Delamare River. Seedy motels stood all around next to the highways and roads. Billboards advertised greasy food, ambulance chaser lawyers, off-brand cigarettes, and high-proof booze. Fillydelphia was mostly urban sprawl, and didn’t have too many of the chrome skyscrapers of Manehattan or Tall Tale. What it did have, however, were factories, and heavy industry drove the city’s economy.
Before the manufacturing boom, it had been little more than a historical attraction, containing some important sites from Equestria’s founding. But the industrial boom brought about by increased manufacturing technology had made the city grow up seemingly overnight, and factories had soon come to employ over half the ponies who lived there.
Of course, such progress came with its own problems, as were on display outside the JSUC Munitions factory on this blustery Monday morning, which Twilight Sparkle clandestinely observed from a cloud in the sky above.
The factory was a hundred meters square, two stories tall, and had a glass roof with several smokestacks. But nothing came from those smokestacks. On the steps to the red brick building, hundreds of burly stallions--and a few mares--stood, all wearing overalls and grimy shirts. They all held picket signs which had slogans and words on them.
“No slave labor! Reasonable hours!” one said.
“Benefits for workers!” another proclaimed.
”Safety first, profits second!” said another.
One pony, a younger mare with a charcoal mane and lime-green coat, stood on the front steps of the factory, a megaphone in her hooves.
She shouted into the megaphone, “My name is Organized Labor, and I’m the spokesmare for Equestria’s largest labor union: the Association of Steelworkers, Dockhooves, and Fabricators! This union demands reduced working hours, increased pay, increased benefits, and increased safety standards for all of our workers. The owners of this factory should be ashamed at the conditions that the employees are working in right now!”
The workers cheered.
Three ponies who weren’t carrying signs walked down the street and turned to the driveway leading up to the factory.
The strikers all locked hooves in an attempt to block the ponies from crossing the picket line..
“Scabs!” they jeered. One stallion spat at the ponies.
“Quit breaking our strike!”
The three ponies backed off, walking away. Twilight Sparkle took note of this. She would have to be diplomatic in what she was about to do. She didn’t want to inflame tensions.
She slowly descended towards the ground as the rioters chanted, “Two, four, six, eight! We deserve a higher wage!”
None of them noticed her until they saw that she was standing right in front of the factory doors. The crowd quieted down. Organized Labor turned around, seeing Twilight.
“Princess Twilight?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Attention, Association of Steelworkers, Dockhooves, and Fabricators!” said Twilight.
Organized Labor put the megaphone up to Twilight’s mouth.
“It’s okay, I don’t need it,” said Twilight, gently nudging it away with her hoof. She preferred to project her voice with magic. Megaphones were for activists, not politicians.
Twilight magically amplified her voice and spoke, “I have recently gotten out of a meeting with Jet Set and Upper Crust, the owners of JSUC Munitions.”
The crowd booed. Twilight put up her hoof and they quieted down.
“Now, I had this discussion because I, like all of you, have friends who are fighting in the war, and I want to ensure that our country has the planes, warships, and munitions that our troops need in order to be successful against the Second Kingdom.
“On a slight tangent, let’s talk for a moment about the Second Kingdom. Did you know that, if they were to overrun Fillydelphia, this union couldn’t even be having this protest? In the Second Kingdom, workers get paid what they get paid, usually barely enough to live, and that’s that. Soldiers shoot at peaceful protestors in the streets. In fact, five ponies were recently shot in occupied Ponyville for protesting. Two of them died.”
The crowd murmured. This was the first that many of them had heard of this.
“Now, I don’t want to do that. Today, I make the solemn promise that I won’t ever shoot at anypony in the streets for protesting. I want to have a serene kingdom where everypony gets along, and all conflicts are solved peacefully through the magic of friendship. But I can’t do that if Blueblood’s army and Zaporizhia’s navy keep advancing, taking more ground, and threatening Equestria. I want for our navy to fend off the Zebras and save Tall Tale and Vanhoover from indiscriminate shelling. I want for our armies to take back Ponyville, take back Mareicopa, and ultimately, take back Canterlot and dethrone Blueblood. Once we do that, I hope that the Cloud Confederacy reconsiders their decision to secede from Equestria and joins us once more, but that’s their democratic choice to make, and I won’t force them to. Someday, though, this continent will once again be unified as one nation indivisible, and the three races will live together as equals in harmony.”
The crowd cheered.
“That’s why it’s very important that you all get back to work immediately.”
The crowd remained silent. Some of them started to murmur until Twilight cut them off by continuing.
“Now, I’ve heard your grievances, and understand that it’s not easy to work sixty-hour weeks. I understand that many of you have mortgages to pay and children to feed, and feel that you aren’t being paid enough, or that you work unsafe conditions. But we never know our blessings until they’re taken away from us, and I guarantee you that if you asked any of the earth ponies or pegasi who now live in occupied Ponyville, they would trade their situation for yours in a heartbeat.
“Of course, I don’t expect you to go back to work with zero guarantees. You are all here striking for a reason, after all. I can’t control exactly what the factory owners do, but I can certainly help things along. That’s why, effective today, I am doubling the price that the government pays for the munitions, warships, and planes produced here at JSUC Munitions. This should allow you to be paid more, and should allow for more employees to be hired so that the existing employees won’t be forced to work as many hours if they don’t want to. Additionally, I will institute a state pension plan for factory workers so that you can retire with confidence. Finally, I will be hiring a new safety inspector to ensure employee safety at factories.
“I thank you all for your understanding, and I thank you all for your hard work. More importantly, all of Equestria thanks you.”
Twilight Sparkle turned to Organized Labor. The union pony blinked a few times. Then, she grinned, putting the megaphone to her mouth.
“Back to work, everypony! We have a war to win!”
Everypony in the crowd cheered. They all dropped their picket signs on the ground and filed single-file through the doors of the factory.
Twilight smiled as she flew off back towards Manehattan. She soared for about ten minutes, and as she glanced back to see Fillydelphia sinking below the horizon, she saw that the smokestack of JSUC munitions was billowing once again.
Appleloosa: February 22nd, 2024
Pound, Pumpkin, Granny Smith, and Applejack all sat inside a wagon as Big Macintosh pulled it along a dusty road.
“Fourteen years old today? Land’s sakes, I coulda sworn that you two were still in diapers,” said Applejack.
“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh grunted, sweat pouring from his brow.
“We get that a lot,” said Pound Cake. “‘Cause we’re so adorable! Aren’t we, Pumpkin?”
“Yeah, sure, we’re two regular ol’ cutie pies,” said Pumpkin Cake, rolling her eyes.
“Well, it couldn’t be a nicer day out,” said Granny Smith, shading her eyes from the sun with a purple parasol. “Been a really harsh winter, but for late February? Couldn’t have asked Princess Celestia herself for warmer, sunnier weather.”
“Well, you could, but she wouldn’t hear you,” said Pumpkin.
“Oh, now I think that she’s out there watchin’ over us all, even from beyond the grave,” said Applejack.
“Just don’t let Princess Twilight know that, or else she’ll hook an electrode to Celestia’s grave and try to study it,” said Pound.
They all laughed.
“So, what do y’all wanna do? Anythin’ special?” asked Applejack.
“Hmm… we could try going to a restaurant in town,” said Pound.
The twins had returned to Appleloosa about a dozen times since their arrest, mostly to visit Braeburn at his shop, or go run errands for Applejack. Of course, all of their errands had been during the daytime. As they had been in town more and more, they got fewer and fewer strange glances. Apparently, at least some of the townsponies had gotten used to seeing the two around. But they had never actually tried going out to eat anywhere.
“Uh… I dunno, they don’t tend to like unicorns and pegasi in town,” said Big Macintosh.
“Ah, that’s not true,” said Applejack. “Not everypony in that town’s a bigot. Just some. Besides, there’s gotta be at least a couple’a restaurants for unicorns and pegasi. Appleloosa is a huge rail stop for travelin’ ponies of all sorts. Empty tummies are empty tummies, and money is money.”
Big Macintosh nodded, seeing his sister’s reasoning.
They continued on until they reached the city limit sign for Appleloosa. Big Macintosh pulled the cart along and down the streets of town. The first street that they went down didn’t have any restaurants, merely saloons, barber shops, stores, and the like.
Pound and Pumpkin noticed that, unlike the other times they’d wandered around town, they got no strange glances from the townsfolk. The Apple family was well-known and respected in town, and if they had non-earth ponies with them, then they must have been decent ponies, too. Or, at least, not the sort to cause problems.
Even more curious than that, however, was a brilliant yellow banner that caught the five ponies’ attention, hanging from the building roofs across the street. On the banner was a large picture of a bright red apple with two crossed hunting rifles over it.
“Join the Appleloosa Self-Defense Force?” Pound read the words on the banner aloud. “To steal a saying from Applejack, what in the hay is that?”
Applejack turned her head sideways, leering at the sign. “I don’t know, sugarcube. This is the first I’m hearin’ of it, too.”
“Let’s hope it’s not a lynch mob for non-earth ponies,” said Pumpkin.
“Yeah, I’d hate for the two of us to have to whip everypony’s flank and embarrass them,” said Pound, grinning.
“Beaten by two fourteen-year-olds. That would be priceless,” Pumpkin chuckled.
“I don’t think there’s anythin’ illegal about it,” said Applejack. “The sheriff’s office is involved.”
She pointed to the bottom of the banner, where the official star of the Appleloosa Sheriff’s Department was printed.
“Huh,” said Big Macintosh.
Pound Cake’s stomach rumbled. “Let’s find out later. I’m starving.”
“I agree,” said Pumpkin.
They continued down the next street and saw a sign that looked promising: “The Spur of the Moment, Bar and Grill.”
“Y’all two ain’t quite old enough for the bar just yet, but the grill sounds good,” said Applejack.
“Eeyup.”
Big Macintosh parked the cart around the side of the building, and the five ponies made their way towards the front door. They opened it and walked in, and the hostess came over to greet them. She was a younger, yellow-coated mare wearing a stetson and cowpony boots, which both had spurs on them. The pun didn’t escape the twins. Particularly Pumpkin, who rolled her eyes.
“Welcome to The Spur of the Moment. My name’s Dinner Plate,” she said.
“Do y’all serve unicorns and pegasi here?” asked Applejack.
The hostess raised an eyebrow. “No, we don’t serve unicorns and pegasi! Why would we do that? We serve lots of food like daffodils, hay fries, grass burgers... but ponies ain’t on the menu! That’s cannibalism!”
“Well… okay then,” said Applejack, a puzzled look on her face.
Pumpkin groaned.
Dinner Plate chuckled, smiling. “Smoking or non-smoking?”
After eating a plate-full of spicy daffodil quesadillas, Pound leaned back in his chair.
“That’s the best food I’ve had in ages! Uh… no offense to your cooking, Granny Smith.”
“None taken! Those mashed potatoes with butter were to die for,” she said, rubbing her stomach.
“Thanks for taking us out to eat,” said Pumpkin Cake, smiling.
“No problem, sugarcube,” said Applejack. “Anythin’ for my favorite birthday twins in the whole world!”
Dinner Plate, who just so happened to be walking by right when Applejack said “birthday twins,” swiveled to look at the Cakes.
“It’s your birthday?” she exclaimed, grinning. “You know what that means…”
Dinner Plate started stomping her hooves on the ground, as all of the servers and cooks in the restaurant slowly started stomping their hooves and coming towards them. Pumpkin Cake blushed as red as a beet, disliking the attention, but Pound grinned from ear to ear.
The Spur of the Moment employees sang,
“Happy, happy birthday, you’re older by a year Thanks for comin’ to The Spur to have your birthday here! Happy, happy birthday, we hope this is alright: This ain’t the normal birthday song ‘cause that one’s copyright!”
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, one of the cooks pulled out a plate with a birthday cake that had twenty-eight candles on it, fourteen for each twin.
Pumpkin raised an eyebrow. “How in Equestria did you know how old we are?”
“Call it good ‘ol earth pony intuition,” the cook said, winking.
The restaurant employees all walked off and back to their duties.
“Mmm, chocolate cake,” said Pound, picking up a knife and fork and getting to work on it..
The twins ate their cake, Pound eating most of it. Just as they were about to leave and be given the check ten minutes later, a gruff stallion came up to their table.
“Lunch for the troublemakers, eh?”
“Oh, howdy, Sheriff Silverstar,” said Applejack. “I was just takin’ the twins to do somethin’ special for their fourteenth birthday.”
The sheriff nodded. “I see. Well, happy birthday, I suppose.”
“Thanks,” said the twins.
The sheriff narrowed his eyes. “Just don’t start no trouble. Teenagers, boy I tell ya...”
“Oh, sheriff,” said Applejack. “While you’re here, what’s that whole Appleloosa Self-Defense Force hootenanny?”
The sheriff chuckled. “Well, if y’all are so interested, why not attend the town hall meetin’ about it? We’re gatherin’ in front of the jailhouse at three this afternoon.”
“You can’t just tell us now what it’s about?” asked Pound Cake, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m explainin’ it there. I don’t repeat myself, young stallion,” said the sheriff with a serious tone. He walked off and out the door.
A small crowd of about thirty ponies, mostly stallions, had gathered in front of the jailhouse. The Cakes and the Apples were there as well, standing to the rear of the crowd.
Sheriff Silverstar stood on the jailhouse steps and spoke.
“Welcome, everypony, to the recruitment drive for the Appleloosa Self-Defense Force. All ponies who’re interested in joinin’ a militia to protect our town can sign up right here at my office, complete a trainin’ course, and be issued a shotgun for use on militia duty.”
The crowd murmured, some of them still apparently confused.
“Now, y’all might be wonderin’ why we need such a thing in a quiet, peaceful town like this. I’ll say exactly why. Ponyville, a town about half a day’s journey north of here, not much bigger than this town, was invaded by the Second Kingdom a couple years ago. When that happened, the regular army didn’t do a lick of good to protect ‘em. After they lost, the Equestrian Army retreated from Ponyville and went to defend bigger, more strategic towns like Manehattan, Tall Tale, or Fillydelphia. Lots of the pegasi defected to make their own country. That leaves small towns like Ponyville and Appleloosa at the Second Kingdom’s mercy.
“So far, the Second Kingdom ain’t seen fit to march south through the desert and hassle us. But this past fall, the Second Kingdom confiscated all of the harvest in Ponyville, and took it to feed the unicorns, on account of ‘em not bein’ able to grow their own food. And ‘cause of that, over a hundred ponies in Ponyville died of starvation this winter alone.”
The crowd gasped.
“Those dastardly unicorns!”
“Make ‘em pay!”
Pumpkin Cake glanced around, though none of the ponies in the crowd were looking in her direction.
The sheriff shook his head, putting up his hoof. “Now, this ain’t a lynch mob against unicorns. This is a self-defense force. We don’t attack a unicorn unless he fires the first shot or magic beam. We ain’t goin’ off to defend Tall Tale or attack the zebras; this militia ain’t the army. We’re gonna stay in Appleloosa and defend Appleloosa only. Think of it sorta like the police. We’re a peaceful town, and hopefully the war ends without a battle here in Appleloosa. But Blueblood’s actions this past fall tell me that he ain’t just stoppin’ with Ponyville. Next fall, what’s to stop him from confiscatin’ all our apples, too? The famine in the Second Kingdom don’t show no signs of gettin’ no better.”
The crowd murmured, while Pumpkin tried to make sense of the sheriff’s triple-negative.
The sheriff continued, “My thoughts exactly. The Appleloosan Self-Defense Force will fight to the death to save our town from bein’ overrun. We may not be the regular army, nor as good as ‘em, but we can sure as tartarus arm ourselves and make it a lot harder for Blueblood to just mosey right on into Appleloosa unopposed by the townsfolk like he did in Ponyville.”
Pound and Pumpkin glanced at each other. “Unopposed” might not be the right word. There was opposition; it just wasn’t too effective. As a result, the twins were orphans.
The sheriff said, “Now, sign-up sheets are inside the office. Those of you who wanna join, come to trainin’ day on the first of March. We’ll show y’all how to fire a gun, how to take cover, and do basic physical trainin’ like push-ups. Tell all your friends and see who wants to join. All we require is combat-ready mares or stallions in good physical health, between the age of fourteen and seventy. Even if you’re too young or too old, we’ll find somethin’ else for you to do like medic or watercolt. We need all the helpin’ hooves we can get.”
Ponies from the crowd gathered into a single-file line and walked into the sheriff’s office, waiting their turn to sign up.
“Big Macintosh?” asked Applejack, turning towards her brother. “Do we wanna join?”
Big Macintosh nodded. “Eeyup.”
“Why, I’d join too if I weren’t so old! Curse them bones of mine,” muttered Granny Smith.
Applejack and Big Macintosh got in line.
Pound and Pumpkin Cake turned towards each other.
“Are you planning on joining, Pumpkin?” asked Pound.
Pumpkin Cake let out a laugh. “Is that a joke? No way! Remember when that sheriff locked us up for being out after sunset just because we weren’t earth ponies? Why should I risk my life to stick up for a town that cares nothing about me?”
“That’s not entirely true. They care a little bit. I mean, they did give us cake,” said Pound Cake, chuckling.
“That’s a privately-owned business, though. I’m talking about ponies in power, like the sheriff,” said Pumpkin.
Pound shrugged. “Even still, though. We could probably make a difference if we joined. I’m a great flyer, and you’re great with magic. But a bunch of earth ponies armed with shotguns against a bunch of unicorns armed with magic and machine guns? My money’s not on the earth ponies. You remember how easily the Ponyville town guard was overrun. Appleloosa could use a little diversity in their militia.”
“Maybe they should have thought of that before they passed a law banning unicorns and pegasi from living in their town,” Pumpkin scoffed, glancing away.
“Not all of the ponies here are racist, Pumpkin. Applejack, Granny Smith, and Big Macintosh aren’t. Braeburn isn’t. Those ponies at The Spur of the Moment weren’t,” said Pound, counting them off on his wing feathers. “I don’t even think Sheriff Silverstar hates hates us. Sure, there’s a few racists here and there, but no place is perfect. Ponyville wasn’t. Cloudsdale wasn’t. The Everfree wasn’t.”
Pumpkin Cake scratched her chin. “Still, there’s got to be a better place to live than this, and a better place to hold the fort and defend.”
“Okay, fine. Still, who cares? Like it or not, we’ve made Appleloosa our home for what, almost a year now? We have ponies who we care about here, and we can’t keep living our lives on the run, Pumpkin. We ran from Ponyville and all the ponies that we knew there. Then you ran from the Everfree and Zecora, and I ran from Mareicopa and Spitfire. When do we stop running? When do we stand up and fight? Will it be now? Or will it be the next town we flee to, the next family we find? Or the town after that? How many towns, Pumpkin?”
Pound took to his wings, hovering over Pumpkin, as she started backpedaling as he inched closer, menacingly.
“Well, I mean, you could always fly us off to the Crystal Empire--”
“Oh yeah, that’ll be great. NOT! You think that the Crystal Empire likes unicorns any more than this town does, after Sombra enslaved them? But okay, let’s say that we go there. Guess what, then Blueblood will invade there, too. And the Crystal Empire doesn’t even have a real army, so they’d be gone in a heartbeat. Appleloosa’s our best shot at stopping Blueblood in his tracks. It’s now or never. Now’s the time to contribute.
“And you said it yourself back when we were harvesting apples, Pumpkin. We need to contribute to the ponies who take us in, right? We don’t want to be freeloaders, right? Well how much of a freeloader would you be if you stayed here with the Apple family as long as you could, but then when push came to shove and the Second Kingdom started beating down their door for their apples, you just turned on your intangibility spell and ran away like a coward?”
“I wouldn’t do that!” said Pumpkin, stomping her hoof. “I’d defend the Apple family, at least.”
Pound pressed his hoof against Pumpkin’s chest. “Then prove it by making it official! March right into that office with me and sign up for the militia!”
Pumpkin frowned. She didn’t say anything for about a minute. Finally, she groaned. “Oh, alright. You’ve made your case. I’ll do it.”
Pound grinned, slapping Pumpkin on the back. “That’s the spirit, sis!” She rolled her eyes.
The twins walked into the sheriff’s office and got in line. After waiting in line, they walked up to the sheriff’s desk. Pumpkin took the pencil in her magic.
“What are you two doin’ here?” asked Sheriff Silverstar, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, let’s see here, we’re standing in line for the sign-up clipboard. And I just grabbed the pencil. Hmm, I wonder…” said Pumpkin, gazing at the ceiling as she scratched her chin with her hoof.
“Y’all actually wanna join?” the sheriff asked, chuckling.
“We’re fourteen, so we’re old enough. I can fly like a billion miles an hour, and you could shoot Pumpkin with like a billion bullets and she wouldn’t even get a scratch,” boasted Pound.
Sheriff Silverstar turned his head sideways, grinning. “Really? Cause I got some beachfront property in Dodge Junction I could sell ya.”
“Well, okay, not quite a billion,” said Pumpkin. “My brother likes to exaggerate. But watch this.”
Pound and Pumpkin Cake walked out of the door of the sheriff’s office and into the street outside. The sheriff followed them.
He rolled his eyes. “Alright twins, this had better be good.”
A loud crack pierced the air as Pound Cake took off. A white cone followed in front of him as he soared higher and higher. The sheriff and all thirty of the new recruits gazed up at the sky in awe as he broke through the clouds merely five seconds later.
Then, Pound dive-bombed right towards the earth, the air crackling behind him. Then, he pulled up at the possible last second before hitting the ground. The wind rush hit the crowd, blowing their hats off their heads. Pound hovered for a few moments, and then flew straight towards his sister.
“LOOK OUT!” the sheriff urged Pumpkin Cake just as Pound was about to slam into her.
But Pumpkin merely stood right where she was, glowing blue as Pound passed harmlessly through her at a blistering speed, whipping everypony else’s mane around with wind. Pound came to a screeching halt within a hair’s breadth of the sheriff, and Pumpkin teleported right next to her brother.
“Ta-da!” said Pound. Pumpkin simply nodded.
Nopony in the crowd said a word for a minute.
Finally, the Sheriff spoke. “Well shuck my corn. If that ain’t the darndest thing I ever saw in my life. And y’all didn’t use that to escape when I locked y’all in jail?”
“We’re not criminals,” said Pumpkin.
“We kind of just wanted a place to sleep that night,” said Pound.
The Sheriff turned to the twins one at a time. “So your special talent is flyin’ really fast and doin’ tricks, just like Lightning Louise? And yours is, what, passin’ through things? Just like Specter the Stallion?”
The twins both nodded. One of the ponies in the crowd opened his mouth to say something, but the sheriff glared at him and he didn’t. Another minute passed and nopony spoke. Finally, the sheriff retrieved his clipboard and gave it to the twins, who each signed their name on it and then gave it back to him. The sheriff reviewed their signatures for a moment, and then turned his eyes back to the twins.
“Welcome to the Appleloosa Self-Defense Force, Pound and Pumpkin Cake.”
On the outskirts of Appleloosa, smoke and flashes rose from a long, flat shooting range. Dozens of ponies stood with hunting rifles, shotguns, and six-shooter revolvers. Paper cutouts of King Blueblood hung about fifty meters away from where the ponies stood. Bullet holes peppered the many copies of his face and horn, and spent shell casings littered the ground around to the shooters.
The Appleloosan Self Defense Forces had spent the past month doing physical training, obstacle courses, and weight lifting. Today was the first day that they had practiced with guns. Sheriff Silverstar walked around to the ponies, giving them advice here and there when he saw that they needed it.
“Careful about that recoil, Dusty Trails, it’ll knock you on yer flank!” he advised a mare.
“Remember to aim down them ironsights and hold your breath to keep it still, Bronco Billy,” he told a stallion.
Pound and Pumpkin Cake stood next to each other near the end of the range. Pumpkin levitated a revolver in her magic, while Pound held a shotgun in his hooves. He steadied it and aimed down the center at a large, comical picture of a smiling King Blueblood wearing a crown and holding a rose in his teeth. He wrapped his hoof around the trigger which was specifically designed for earth pony hooves as he gazed down the sights. A loud blast boomed through the air.
“Hah! Got him right in his stupid face!” Pound exclaimed.
Six shots rang out next to him as Pumpkin fired at her own target, levitating the gun in her magic. She glanced at the target and saw that two of the shots hit the white paper surrounding blueblood, though not the King’s face itself. The rest flew off into the sky.
“Drat,” she said, frowning.
“Well, hey, you didn’t hit him, but you would have at least scared him off, I guess,” said Pound, shrugging.
“True,” said Pumpkin as she levitated six more bullets into the revolver, “though I still would have liked to hit the target.”
Pound glanced at Pumpkin as she loaded the gun. “Well, you’ve got the reloading advantage as a unicorn. Do you have any idea what a pain it is to reload that thing if you’re a Pegasus or an earth pony?”
Pumpkin chuckled. “That’s why you let me shoot the revolver and you took the shotgun, if I recall.”
Pound nodded.
“How y’all two comin’ along?”
The twins gazed behind themselves to see Sheriff Silverstar. The sheriff gazed off at the targets at the end of the range. Then, he gazed at Pound, who was reloading both of the barrels of his shotgun.
“Good job there, Pound. Though I’d work on reloading technique. In the middle of a fight, you ain’t gonna have enough time to just stand there and carefully put the shells in. Load quicker.”
“Yeah,” said Pound. “These shells are just a pain to grapple with when you only have hooves to work with.”
The sheriff spat some brown tobacco juice off to the side and chuckled. “Y’all think that’s bad? Try assemblin’ one of them things. Our local gunsmith’s an earth pony.”
Pumpkin blinked. “I don’t know how you guys do it.”
“Well, with lots of practice, and then without thinkin’ about it,” said the Sheriff. “I don’t know nothin’ about flyin’, Pound Cake, but I’d imagine that it took a while to get good at it, and then you don’t think about it no more.”
Pound nodded. “It’s like riding a bike. You never forget. Unless you get, like, amnesia or something. But generally you don’t forget, I guess.”
The sheriff smiled. “It also helps when you hold the shells in your teeth instead of grapplin’ around with your hooves all day.”
Pound looked at the sheriff sideways, and then a look of realization dawned on his face. He reached down with his mouth, grabbed two shells in his teeth, and used his tongue to orient them in his mouth. Then, he placed them into the barrels and loaded the shotgun.
“Attaboy,” said the sheriff. Then, he turned to Pumpkin. “And I see you’re havin’ some trouble hittin’ the target.”
“Yeah,” said Pumpkin. “I mean, I can reload the revolver in about a second—“
“That’s a lot better than I can do,” said the sheriff, nodding encouragingly.
“—which almost makes up for the fact that I can’t actually, you know, hit the target,” Pumpkin groaned, gesturing with her hoof towards the cutout of Blueblood.
The sheriff peered over at the target, examining the bullet holes which seemed to be everywhere but on Blueblood’s face.
He turned back to Pumpkin. “Do me a favor and fire off three shots at the target.”
Pumpkin nodded, turned to face the target, levitated her gun in the air in front of her, and fired off three shots in quick succession. The first two the white area around Blueblood’s outline, while the other zipped right by, into the air above the target.
The sheriff chuckled. “Well, you’re usin’ your magic, so you don’t actually have to hold it. On the plus side, that means the gun won’t kick back on you. Normally, a filly your size would be knocked right on her flank by a gun like that. But on the minus side, that means that the barrel will tilt up on each shot, and you wouldn’t even know it, ‘cause you don’t get no feedback from it.”
Pumpkin nodded. “So what should I do?”
“Well,” said the sheriff. “You’re firin’ too fast, for one. Take your time and line up each individual shot instead of emptyin’ all six barrels at once. And, uh, I’m not too sure about how that fancy magic of yours works, but can you press down on the barrel with your magic while firing it, to keep it steady?”
“Yes,” said Pumpkin.
“Good, then do that.”
Pumpkin gazed down the barrel, taking careful aim at the target, while keeping a force applied at the top of the gun. She pulled the trigger and the gun went off with a bang, leaving a hole in the white paper closer to Blueblood, but still not hitting him. This time, though, the gun didn’t recoil as much.
Then, taking her time, she compensated by aiming the gun ever so slightly further to the right, and then let off another shot. It hit Blueblood right in his eye.
“Yeah!” she exclaimed.
The sheriff smiled. “Good job.”
The sun had gone down, and the ponies from the ASDF were all sitting inside the Sheriff’s office, where they ate some apples provided by Applejack.
The sheriff stood in front of his desk and spoke to the crowd. “Good job today, gang. We’ll keep shootin’ at the range every day, and when the Second Kingdom arrives, we’ll sure give ‘em a heck of a time!”
They all hooted and hollered.
Applejack and Big Macintosh sat next to Pound and Pumpkin Cake as they ate some apples. The Sheriff didn’t have enough desks or chairs in his office, so they all sat down on the floor.
“So, how’d y’all do?” asked Applejack.
“We hit the targets a lot. Pumpkin didn’t at first until she got her technique right,” said Pound, taking a bite out of a golden delicious.
“Well, keep practicing,” said Applejack. “I’ve been shootin’ for years, and it’s the only way you get better. When you can hit a tin can off a post from a hundred yards away, and you can do it every time, then you know you’re an expert marskpony. I’m not quite there yet, but Big Macintosh here sure is.”
Big Macintosh nodded. “Eeyup.”
“If only we had some better guns,” said Pound Cake. “A bunch of double-barrel shotguns? Revolvers? Hunting rifles? The Second Kingdom has all sorts of machine guns and sniper rifles.”
Pumpkin nodded. “They have rocket launchers and mortars, too.”
“Woah nelly,” said Applejack, shaking her head. “If only we had some guns like that here.”
“Maybe if we write a letter to Twilight, she can send us some arms,” suggested Pound.
“No, she won’t.”
The four ponies glanced up to see Sheriff Silverstar standing over them.
“Oh, howdy, sheriff,” said Big Macintosh.
“Howdy, big Macintosh,” said the sheriff. “Yes, we tried askin’ Princess Twilight to send us some o’ the good stuff. But she refused and said that the regular army is low enough on weapons as it is. Lots of the armories were in Cloudsdale, and when they seceded, they took the whole kit and caboodle with ‘em. And the ASDF—the labor union, that is—had been strikin’, as well. So there’s a shortage. Plus, she also mentioned that she’s concerned that since we ain’t the regular army, we won’t know how to handle ourselves and somepony might get hurt.”
“What?” asked Big Macintosh with an irritated tone.
“I agree!” Applejack exclaimed. “How old are some of them recruits in the Equestrian army? Seventeen? Fifteen? She trusts them to be given an assault rifle and a rocket launcher, but meanwhile I been firin’ guns my whole life and I still gotta use an old huntin’ rifle to fend off dozens of unicorns?”
“You’re probably qualified for a machine gun,” said the sheriff. “But I don’t know if I’d trust Pound and Pumpkin here with more advanced weapons yet.”
“Hey!” Pound exclaimed. “I’m a great shot! I mean sure, Pumpkin’s a bit trigger happy, but I’m fantastic!”
Pumpkin frowned and gave Pound a smack with her hoof.
“Cut it out!” Pound said, jumping up to tackle Pumpkin. As he made his way down, she turned intangible and he fell flat on his face.
“My point has proven itself,” said the sheriff, shaking his head at the twins as Pound returned to where he was sitting. “Quit horsin’ around! Why I let y’all young bucks join the militia, I’ll never know.”
“Because you need us,” said Pumpkin.
“Y’all haven’t exactly proven yourself,” said the sheriff. “I’ll admit that your magic and flyin’ skills are impressive, but that’s probably just because most of us in this town ain’t never seen a unicorn use magic or a pegasus fly around like that. Big fish, small pond.”
“I’m one of the best flyers that there is!” Pound exclaimed.
“I’m literally the only pony that Twilight has ever seen who could use an intangibility spell,” said Pumpkin.
The sheriff snickered. “Well then, if y’all are such hot stuff, why not do somethin’ useful with your special talents instead of just braggin’ and boastin’ about ‘em?”
“We will!” Pound exclaimed. “What if Pumpkin and I could go and get you some real weapons? Rocket launchers, flame throwers, machine guns, sniper rifles, chain guns, and all the ammo to go with it? Enough for everypony in the militia?”
Pumpkin blinked.
The sheriff chuckled and responded, “Then I would eat my hat, young stallion.”
“Deal!” exclaimed Pound, jumping up and extending a hoof towards the sheriff.
Pumpkin shook her head. “Pound, how are we going to—“
“Shut up, sis. I got a plan.”
The air whipped at Pumpkin’s mane as Pound soared through the air. Rather than Pound carrying Pumpkin like he normally did, Pumpkin stood inside of a wooden cart attached by a harness to Pound, which he pulled through the air. She wore a revolver in a holster around her waist, and Pound’s shotgun was slung over his back.
“So what’s your brilliant plan, exactly?” asked Pumpkin. “You still haven’t told me.”
“You couldn’t…” Pound panted, “…have asked me about that… before you got in the cart?”
“Well, you were so busy rambling about all the neat types of guns that we would get that I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and you forgot to mention, oh, that’s right, how we would actually get them?”
“Oh… that’s simple… We raid an armory.”
Pumpkin’s heart leapt in her chest. Her horn powered up and suddenly, Pound found himself skidding across the dirt of the desert below, where he came to a stop.
“Hey! What’d you do that for?” he asked, unhitching himself from the harness.
“Raid an ARMORY? Are you CRAZY!”
Pound backed off and said, “Hey, I think it’s a good—“
“We could be KILLED!” Pumpkin exclaimed, walking over to her brother as he slowly stepped back.
Pound threw his hooves in the air. “Yeah, except you have, oh, that’s right, a freakin’ intangibility spell! So I’ll just fly us in there like a couple of ghosts and we can take all the weapons that we want.”
“It’s not that simple,” said Pumpkin, stopping in her tracks. “It’s not an easy spell, and I can only use it for a very brief period of time, like a few minutes, maybe. I certainly can’t use it while loading up on a bunch of guns, either. Not only would it take way too much energy, but you’re forgetting that intangibility is a two-edged sword. Yes, it means that we can’t be shot at, but I also can’t interact with anything else, either. So no picking up guns.”
“Then you’ll just turn it on and off as we need it,” said Pound. “How hard is that? It’s not like we’re going to be shot at constantly during the raid.”
Pumpkin shrugged. “Point taken. I guess it’s not as big of a problem as it might seem, if we plan it right. But do you even know where this armory is, if it even exists?”
Pound put his hoof on his forehead as Pumpkin turned her head sideways at him.
“Uh… well, I guess I was just sorta thinking that we’d figure that out as we go along.”
Pumpkin shook her head. “We need a plan. We need to find out where the armory is, and then we need to case it and find out where the weapons are, what the security looks like, how to get in undetected. Then, and only then, will we steal the weapons. Otherwise, we’re just going into this blind.”
Pound nodded. “Alright, you do have a point.”
Pumpkin smiled. “Good, we agree, then. So let’s find out where the armory is, and then we can raid it.”
“But sis… how do we find out where the armory is?”
Pumpkin shrugged. “I don’t know. But the Second Kingdom has to get their weapons from somewhere.”
“Could we check in Ponyville, maybe?” said Pound.
Pumpkin nodded. “Sounds like our best bet.”
Pound landed the cart in the Everfree Forest, where it was concealed by some bushes. Since Pumpkin knew the area rather well, they could come back and find the cart whenever they found out where the armory was and were ready to load the cart up with the guns.
They walked down the trail in between the trees as they headed off towards Ponyville.
“So, where should we start?” asked Pumpkin.
“I could run some recon in the air and observe their supply lines for a few hours.”
Pumpkin nodded. “I’ll just stay here and walk around, then. Catch up on the scenery. There’s some berries in the Everfree that are to die for. Literally, they’ll kill you. But the ones next to those are safe to eat, though, and they’re delicious, and I haven’t had any in ages.”
“Cool, pick me some,” said Pound.
Pumpkin said, “You can meet me back at Zecora’s hut. You know how to find it, right?”
Pound nodded. “I’ve been to it before, and I’m good with navigation and remembering how to get places. I’ll be back soon.”
They hugged each other, and Pound took off through the treetop canopy and into the sky above.
Pound sat atop a cloud, getting a pegasus’ eye view of the Second Kingdom’s front lines. The unicorn soldiers sat inside of trenches, dug a few kilometers west of the main road connecting Ponyville to the Second Kingdom. It didn’t look like there was much fighting going on. Pound had seen far more soldiers playing hoofball and cards than he had seen them firing guns or mortar rounds.
But during the afternoon, the Second Kingdom position came under shelling from Equestrian forces off to the west. Pound observed three aircraft which took off from behind Second Kingdom lines and ran a bombing raid on the Equestrian positions.
Of course, he thought. I’ll just follow the airplanes back to where they came from!
He got off of his cloud and followed the airplanes, which were headed back towards Canterlot. Pound figured that their hangars were there and, along with their hangars, a warehouse full of bombs and bullets for the airplanes. The armory for the infantry would likely be close by.
Suddenly, there was yelling below him. He gazed down and saw several stallions with binoculars standing below him, pointing up in the sky. One of them walked over to a battlefield radio and said something into it.
“Dammit!”
The three planes immediately turned around and started firing their machine guns at Pound, while some of the stallions on the ground shot at him. He wasn’t too worried about them shooting at him, because he was so far up. The planes were what concerned him.
He turned around and zipped away as the slower planes drifted further behind.
Pumpkin sat against the back wall of Zecora’s hut, a few dozen wildberries floating in her magic as she plopped one into her mouth, and the tangy-sweet taste burst in her mouth.
“I’m back!”
She glanced up to see her brother trotting towards her.
She raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t followed, were you?”
“No! Well, yeah, kind of. But I lost them by flying farther south, then flying through the forest under the canopy. No way they saw me.”
“Alright,” said Pumpkin. “You’re the flight expert, not me. So, what sort of intel did you get?”
Pound shook his head. “Nada. I tried following some of the planes back to Canterlot, but some of the infantry on the ground found out and radioed the planes, and they turned right back around and started firing at me. I had to high-tail it out of there and lose ‘em, and then I came back here.”
Pumpkin ate another berry. “You want some? I promise they’re safe.”
“I am kinda starving. Thanks!” said Pound as Pumpkin floated half of the berries towards him.
Pumpkin asked, “You said that the planes were headed in the direction of Canterlot. Could that be where they’re resupplying?”
Pound shrugged. “It’s possible, but I didn’t get to follow them like I wanted to. Even if I tried it again, I doubt that I could get too close to it without being detected. There’s no pegasi in the Second Kingdom, and they have ponies watching the skies. I stick out like a sore hoof.”
“You could go at night.”
“Well, then I could at least see where the hangar is, but I wouldn’t be able to see anything else, because it would be dark,” said Pound through a mouthful of berries.
“Hmm,” said Pumpkin. “I guess I could go up there and take a look. As a unicorn, I wouldn’t be suspicious. But I can’t fly, so it might take a while for me to get back.”
“I can drop you off near the border. The front lines are actually really close to the road to Canterlot. Then, you could teleport over the front lines and onto the road, and you could walk to Canterlot and take a look around. Just meet me back here when you’re done. I’ll wait. If it’s night time before you get back, I’ll just sleep in the clouds, and I’ll be back here before the dawn.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Pound carried Pumpkin in his hooves this time, leaving his cart near Zecora’s hut. He had taken a roundabout way to get to the border of Equestrian territory, flying so that he didn’t have to cross any place that the unicorns might glance up and fire at him.
“See over there?” he asked, glancing off in the direction of the path between Ponyville and Canterlot. “That’s where you’ll want to go.”
“Thanks,” said Pumpkin. Now that she had seen it with her own eyes, teleporting there would be a lot easier for her, since teleportation was a very visual spell.
They landed in some trees about half a kilometer away from the trenches where the Second Kingdom soldiers stood. They were out of the soldiers’ view.
“Alright, time to scope it out,” said Pumpkin.
Pound turned to his sister. “Do they allow guns in the Second Kingdom?”
Pumpkin chuckled. “Hah! That’s a good one. No, nothing that would allow anypony to rise up against Blueblood.”
“Then you probably should give me that revolver,” said Pound.
“Oh,” said Pumpkin, blushing slightly as she used her magic to unfasten the holster. “Almost forgot I had it.”
They hugged once more.
“Make it back in one piece!” Pound urged.
“Okay,” said Pumpkin. She powered up her horn and then disappeared in a flash of white light.
Pumpkin Cake reappeared on the road to Canterlot, which she could see off in the distance, the lone mountain towering above the landscape. She caught her breath for a moment, the teleport over several kilometers being quite taxing on her magical energy reserves.
“Time to start walking,” she said to herself as she walked off in the direction of Canterlot. She would have tried to teleport again to get further along the train, but doing it twice in quick succession would be challenging for any but the highest level unicorns.
A few civilians passed her on the road. All of them were unicorns. As she had found out, the non-unicorns within Second Kingdom borders were not allowed to even travel to Canterlot at all, or anywhere except their hometowns, where they were kept in their own districts. All other travel required a pass and a written statement.
As racist as Appleloosa is, I guess it could always be worse, she thought.
About half an hour later, she heard a low humming sound as she gazed up in the air. She saw a small squadron of five warplanes headed in the direction of Canterlot. They were behind her, but gaining. Picking up her walk to a quick jog, she continued to Canterlot. She didn’t want the planes to beat her there, because then she wouldn’t be able to see where they were landing.
The planes’ droning got louder. She looked up and saw that they were right above her. Her heart skipped a beat. They would get away!
Pumpkin Cake closed her eyes and focused her magical energy. The base of her horn ached, still recharging from her prior teleport. But she had to do it again, had to push herself. She gritted her teeth as she disappeared in a flash of light, and reappeared further up the trail.
The planes were behind her once more, and she determined to keep it that way. This time, she ran up the trail as fast as her legs could carry her. She hadn’t wanted to run before, because she hadn’t wanted to attract the attention of any soldiers who would’ve wonder why she was running. But she had a mission, so she just tried to make it look like she was out running for exercise. On her way on the road, she passed a soldier. He just smiled and nodded as she passed him. What had she been so worried about?
Pumpkin wasn’t in the best physical shape, and certainly not as good of shape as her brother. The planes were closing in on her and would overtake her within a few minutes. Her legs ached as the back of her throat became raspy, making her cough.
She sighed as she came to a stop, ready to charge another teleport, her horn aching in protest. But she stopped as she realized that the planes were turning and weren’t headed towards Canterlot after all. Rather, they were descending to a location several kilometers away. Pumpkin continued at a jogging pace, past bushes and trees on the path, until she was close enough to see that they were landing at an airstrip on the outskirts of town.
Since she had already seen where they were landing, she slowed down to a walking pace and walked the rest of the way there, catching her breath.
Pumpkin had never seen an airbase before. Indeed, Equestria didn’t have them, since Equestria had pegasi. The closest to an airbase that she had ever seen was Rainbow Falls, where the Wonderbolt Training Academy was. That, though, was nothing like this. Rainbow Falls was just a few houses, but here, there were dozens of half-cylindrical hangars, dozens of cranes and maintenance vehicles, and hundreds of unicorns scurrying around to different parts of the base.
From atop a small hill, she could see that the entire airstrip was surrounded by a fence with barbed wire on it. It was probably there to prevent saboteurs, she figured. It certainly wouldn’t protect against a full-on assault. Though the fence wouldn’t be a challenge for her, she would have to cross it during the evening when nopony could see her. But, like Pound said, that would mean that she wouldn’t get as good of a view of everything, and it would be dark.
She descended from the hill and back towards the path to Canterlot.
I guess I’ll just wait until sunset to sneak in, she thought. Sunset was still a few hours away, though. Maybe she could go up to Canterlot and walk around. She had never actually seen Canterlot before.
A Second Kingdom officer passed by Pumpkin on the path. He had a rifle slung over his back and wore a dark blue uniform which covered his chest, but left his flank exposed, where there was a picture of a shield. The officer was around Pumpkin’s age; he certainly couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Pumpkin wasn’t sure what the stallion’s rank was, but figured that he was a new recruit since he was so young.
Suddenly, Pumpkin got an idea. She turned around and jogged past the officer, who didn’t pay her any mind. She reached a bend in the path, and left the path, where there was a tall tree.
“Perfect,” she whispered. A blue glow surrounded Pumpkin as she levitated herself up into the tree, hiding among the leaves. She figured that she was well enough concealed.
As the officer walked past, Pumpkin’s horn lit up, and the officer’s clothes and rifle phased right off his body.
“What the—“ the officer started, glancing up as the clothes floated over to the tree.
“Hey!” he cried. He fumbled for his gun but realized that he didn’t have it, either. Pumpkin floated the clothes into the tree and close to her. She quickly put the clothes on, then she charged up her horn and teleported back to the hill where she had been observing the base from.
Pumpkin laughed, glancing at her body. She wished she had a mirror. The clothes were a little loose on her, but not too noticeable. Hopefully the Second Kingdom’s uniforms were unisex. The gun was nice too, one of the newer models with select fire capability.
“Officer Pumpkin Cake reporting for duty,” she said to no one in particular.
Pumpkin Cake trotted down the path towards the airbase. She hoped that the guards at the gate didn’t check for an ID.
Thankfully, the two guards at the gate simply waved Pumpkin through.
“Go on ahead, cadet.”
Now she knew what her rank was, at least. She walked onto the concrete and continued on towards the hangars. Suddenly, she heard a pony yelling behind her.
“Guards, you have to let me in! I swear to Blueblood that I’m an officer! My clothes and gun just floated right off my body like they were made of air!”
The two guards glanced at each other and laughed.
“Get out of here, civvy,” one of them said, shooing him away with a hoof.
Pumpkin had to suppress the urge to burst out laughing.
Pumpkin Cake walked through the airbase, watching pilots come and go to the planes. Maintenance ponies filled up the engines with oil, and some of them reloaded the chainguns with ammo.
They had to be getting the ammo from someplace, she figured. So, she picked out one of the ponies who was refilling the ammunition, and she watched him. After he had reloaded the planes’ guns and bombs, he headed off out of the hangar towards a grey concrete building at the other end of the hangar.
Pumpkin followed him, making sure to keep her distance. A single guard stood outside the steel double doors to the building. The maintenance pony’s horn lit up as he reached around his neck and pulled out his identification, showing it to the guards. The guard’s nose scrunched as he scrutinized the ID. Finally, he let the maintenance pony pass.
“Shoot,” muttered Pumpkin under her breath. She couldn’t get into the building without an ID. Well, she could, but not without catching their attention. She glanced over to the west as the sun slowly sunk over the horizon, turning the sky red-orange and the clouds purple.
Well, she thought, time to wait it out until night.
The floodlights came on one by one, casting white light over the airstrips and outside the hangars. A few planes came in for an evening landing, and ponies wearing orange vests waved them in.
Of course, there were a few gaps in the light’s coverage. Pumpkin stayed up next to the wall of the grey building. The guard was looking in the opposite direction, so there wasn’t any danger of him spotting her. She glanced out onto the airstrip. Most of the ponies were preoccupied with other things.
Now or never, she thought. Her horn lit up as she turned to the wall, and she quickly stuck her head through it, seeing a well-lit hallway. Seeing nopony in the hallway, she stuck her whole body through the wall and into the hallway.
Pumpkin walked down the white brick hallway. She reached the end, and rounded a corner, where she saw another officer walking. He saluted. She saluted back, and he continued on his way. As she walked, she saw another maintenance pony walking in her direction. She stood aside as he passed her. She decided to follow him, and he rounded another corner.
There was a set of double-doors at the end of this hallway. Unlike the front doors, these didn’t have anypony guarding them. The stallion’s horn lit up as the door swung open. Pumpkin followed him into a large room. Her heart skipped a beat.
The room was about ten meters square. Against each of the walls, there stood steel lockers filled with all sorts of machine guns. There were wooden crates stacked near the back wall which had numbers on them for various bullet calibers such as 7.62x39mm and 5.6×15mm.
Other crates stood with red letters on them which simply proclaimed, “EXPLOSIVES!”
Pound Cake’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as he leaned up against the back wall of Zecora’s hut. The sun had already risen, and his long brown bangs hung into his eyes, shielding them from the sun.
“Pound.”
“Mmph,” he mumbled, turning over.
“Pound.”
He swatted in front of himself with his hoof.
“Pound!!!”
His eyes opened to see Pumpkin Cake standing over him.
“Oh, hey, Pumpkin,” he said, wiping his eyes and glancing up at his sister. He turned his head, noticing the blue uniform she wore. “Where’d you get the new duds?”
Pumpkin chuckled. “Took them off of some unsuspecting officer who was walking by. Just ripped them off with my intangibility spell. He didn’t even know what hit him.”
Pound laughed. “That’s hysterical! He must have thought he was losing his mind.”
She nodded. “So I got these clothes, and I also got my horn on this...”
She levitated the assault rifle over towards him. His pupils dilated as he wrapped his hoof around it.
“Oh my Celestia! An actual gun with an actual magazine, and not just those wild west antiques that they were having us shoot back in Appleloosa!”
“I know, I almost forgot what a real gun looked like,” Pumpkin quipped.
“Can I shoot your gun, Pumpkin? Can I?”
She shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Just don’t use up all the ammo.”
“I’ll put it in select fire mode,” he said, flipping the switch from full-auto to semi-auto. He glanced down the iron sights as he aimed, looking for something to shoot. Finally, he set his sights on a tree trunk. The trigger wasn’t designed for earth pony hooves, being much too narrow, so he pulled the trigger with one of his wingfeathers. Three shots came off in rapid succession, hitting the tree trunk. They went all the way through, scattering bark everywhere.
“Nice!” he exclaimed. “But I guess I couldn’t shoot it while flying. Might have to get the gunsmith in Appleloosa to modify it.”
Pumpkin took the gun back from him. “Pretty fun to shoot, huh? I fired it a bit when I first got back in the forest. I’m surprised it didn’t wake you up.”
“I’m a heavy sleeper; you know that,” said Pound.
Pumpkin chuckled. “Never would have guessed.”
“Besides, there’s shooting every day, now that there’s a war. Nothing unusual. So, anyway… did you find the armory?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have come back here until I did.”
“How well guarded is it?”
“It’s on an airbase in the foothills of Canterlot, surrounded by a bunch of hangars, fences, and guards. With a little bit of planning, though, we should be able to take what we need.”
Pound smiled. “Well, you’re the one who’s actually seen it. So what’s the plan, sis?”
Pound and Pumpkin soared through the air, Pumpkin once again standing in a cart attached to Pound’s harness. It was pitch black, and there was a new moon: a good evening to fly over the Second Kingdom undetected.
Even still, Pound hadn’t taken any chances. He flew several kilometers above the surface, far above where anypony but an observant one with a keen eye and night vision could see him. He also flew slower than normal. The twins’ manes were blown about by a slight breeze.
“Alright,” said Pumpkin Cake, “keep your eyes peeled for an airstrip. You should start descending pretty soon, and land to the west of it.”
“Where should we land the cart?” asked Pound, glancing back at his sister.
“I’m thinking on the roof of the armory,” said Pumpkin.
“It’s not one of those rounded roofs, is it?” asked Pound. “Don’t want the cart to slide off.”
“No, only the hangars have those. The armory has a flat roof.”
After a few more minutes, they spotted a row of lights near the airstrip.
“That’s it,” said Pumpkin, pointing to it.
They started to descend.
“Further to the left. It’s that building right there.”
Pound glanced back as Pumpkin pointed with her hoof. He nodded and adjusted his course.
Pound grinned. “You know, we’re sort of like the opposite of Santa Hooves, if you think about it.”
Pumpkin snickered. “Yep. Now let’s go take all the toys.”
They landed the cart on the metal roof of the building. Pumpkin quietly climbed out of the cart, nervously glancing out over the airstrip. Nopony seemed to notice them. In fact, there weren’t many ponies out on the strip compared to earlier that day. Pound removed the harness, and Pumpkin quietly motioned towards her brother, leading him towards the part of the building with the armory.
She lit up her horn as a blue glow appeared on a small segment of the roof, and she stuck her head through it. She pulled it back out, glancing at Pound and nodding. The coast was clear. Pound walked over to where Pumpkin stood. He grabbed her with his front hooves, and then they phased through the roof into the armory below.
The room was dark, save for a single light bulb hanging from the center, glowing dimly. Pumpkin cast a light spell, and the room became brighter. Pound covered his mouth with his hoof, trying as hard as he could not to squeal like a schoolfilly at all of the hundreds of guns, bullets, grenades, mortars, and other arms.
“It’s like Hearth’s Warming morning,” he whispered.
Pumpkin nodded. “Let’s load up and get out of here, just like we talked about.”
Pound flew over to a gun locker and removed six assault rifles, grabbing them all in his hooves. He flew up to the ceiling, which Pumpkin turned intangible again, and he flew through it, loading the guns into the cart on the roof. He zipped back, repeating the process with more rifles and boxes of bullets as Pumpkin stood lookout.
“Don’t forget the grenades,” whispered Pumpkin Cake, motioning towards the box of green, pineapple-shaped grenades.
He grabbed the box and went back up to the roof, flying through it. He returned, scanning the room.
“Is that a rocket launcher?” he flew over to it. “Aw yeah, it is!”
“Shh,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Grab it.”
He grabbed the rocket launcher and flew up through the roof with it, and returned. He grabbed several more boxes of bullets, explosives, and guns, until he had a few dozen guns and thousands of rounds.
Pumpkin chuckled. “Are you sure that you’re going to be able to carry all that stuff in that cart?”
Pound waved his hoof in the air. “It’s no biggie. I’m really strong. And one of the perks of being a pegasus is that, if you fly while dragging a cart behind you, it’s just as if you’re walking on the ground and hauling it behind you. So it’s not going to drag me down to the ground, just slow me down a little.”
“Huh,” said Pumpkin.
Pound flew around the room for one last quick go-round, and then his eyes widened and he grinned with delight as he saw a massive, large-caliber chaingun.
“That thing can probably take out a warplane!” he exclaimed.
He grabbed the chaingun, heaving with his wings as he attempted to lift it. A blue glow surrounded the bottom of the chaingun as Pumpkin helped lift it. Pound passed through the roof and heaved it. There was a thud as it landed on the metallic roof.
“Shh,” whispered Pumpkin Cake, her muscles tensing up. “That was really loud. You don’t want the guards to hear—“
Suddenly, Pumpkin heard hoofsteps from a pony walking down the hallway outside the armory door. She glanced back up at the ceiling nervously. Pound still hadn’t gotten back.
Where is he? she wondered as several more seconds passed.
The door to the armory opened. The unicorn on the other side recoiled in shock as he saw all of the missing guns and boxes of ammo from the armory. He glanced over at Pumpkin Cake, his eyes narrowing.
“Thief!” he shouted.
“Uh, unicorn master race?” said Pumpkin Cake, pointing to the cadet’s uniform which she still wore.
Unlike the others on the base earlier that day, this stallion wasn’t so easily fooled. He raised his assault rifle and opened fire. Pumpkin quickly cast the intangibility spell on herself and the bullets passed through, harmlessly hitting the back wall.
The guard glanced at the wall, then at Pumpkin, then back at his rifle. “Stupid thing jammed!”
There was a thumping on the roof, as Pumpkin glanced above. She heard a muffled voice.
“Pumpkin! Let me in!”
Pumpkin realized that she hadn’t kept casting the intangibility spell on the roof, since she had focused it on herself. Her horn straining, she extended the spell to cover the roof as well, and Pound came through, his shotgun drawn, as he aimed at the unicorn soldier and pulled the trigger.
“Aah!” the soldier cried, falling backwards.
Pumpkin’s horn powered down as she re-solidified.
They could hear the approaching sound of rapid hoofbeats in the hallway outside.
“Shots fired! Call for backup!” a voice yelled.
“Quick! Get us out of here!” Pound urged. He grabbed Pumpkin as they flew through the ceiling. Pumpkin’s horn powered down as they landed on the roof. She put her hoof to her temple, which was throbbing and aching from all of the magical exertion she’d been doing.
Pumpkin glanced at the cart. It was brimming with machine guns, RPGs, boxes of bullets, grenades, and the chaingun. It was so full, in fact, that she didn’t have any place to stand.
Pound noted the puzzled look on her face. “I’ll carry you in my hooves. I needed the room in the cart for the chaingun. I was rearranging everything to make more room when I heard fire. Sorry it took so long to come back.”
“It’s okay, you didn’t know. Let’s just get out of here!” she urged.
Pound tied the cart’s harness around himself. Suddenly, the roof of the armory was bathed in a bright white light. The twins covered their eyes with their hooves as they saw that a floodlight on the air traffic control tower was pointed in their direction.
“Oh boy…” said Pound. “Let’s skedaddle!”
He flapped his wings and the cart slowly inched off of the ground. But it wouldn’t rise any more than a few centimeters.
“Okay, I got this, hold on,” he said.
Alarm sirens started blaring as ponies started running towards the armory roof, their guns drawn.
Pumpkin shook her head. “You’re moving too slow! We’ve got to ditch the chaingun. The thing’s heavier than I am!”
She climbed onto the cart. She tried to use magic at first, but it was way too heavy. Instead, she got behind it and heaved with her whole body, pushing the heavy gun off. Now, she had a place to stand. Suddenly, bright flashes and shots rang out from the control tower. Bullets hit the roof around the twins as there were loud pings and sparks.
“GO!” Pumpkin urged. Pound flew forward as fast as he could, but the cart only moved at a snail’s pace.
Suddenly, Pumpkin saw a plume of smoke and a bright light approaching her lightning fast.
“Rocket!” she cried. Her horn sputtered on and off until finally, with a great effort, her horn lit up like a nova as herself, Pound, the cart, the roof, and all of its contents turned intangible. They became solid again in a single second, the spell too much of an effort for Pumpkin to cast for any longer, just as the RPG passed straight through them and exploded inside of the armory about twenty meters away.
They missed the initial shockwave, but the rubble and debris from the ruined armory and the subsequently exploding arms inside knocked them back. It gave Pound the push that he needed to get going in the air, taking off with the cart.
“That was a close one!” Pound chuckled.
Pumpkin glanced back as the floodlight continued to follow the cart. She sighed. She was hoping that the watchponies just assumed that the RPG had hit them and blown them up, but the ruse hadn’t worked. Meanwhile, though he was in the air, Pound wasn’t traveling very fast. More shots rang out as bullets whizzed past them. They’d surely be hit before they were off the airbase, since she didn’t have the magical energy left to protect herself and her brother.
Frantically digging through the weapons and ammo in the cart, Pumpkin found what she was looking for. She picked up a rocket launcher. Thankfully, it was already loaded. She fumbled around with it and lifted it up in her hooves. She pointed it towards the control tower and pulled the trigger with what little magic she had left.
A plume of smoke hit her in the face, causing her to jerk back and cough, thick smoke getting into her eyes and filling her lungs. She opened her eyes just in time to see the rocket hit the control tower, where it exploded.
“YEAH! Direct hit!” Pound exclaimed. “That’ll show ‘em!”
They slowly glided over the barbed wire fence surrounding the airstrip as Pound continued south.
“Good thinking hitting the control tower, Pumpkin. Now they probably can’t scramble the jets to come after us. Or, if they did, they’d be doing it blind.”
“Thanks,” said Pumpkin.
She blinked, staring back at the airbase. Had she really just killed those ponies? She closed her eyes, her horn aching and throbbing. Putting her hoof up to her head, she sat down in the cart, resting her head against a crate. Her head spun around and around with dizziness. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.
Pumpkin Cake woke up just as Pound landed the cart in the Everfree Forest several hours later. It was barely dawn, and the sun hadn’t yet peeked over the horizon. Instead, a faint, almost imperceptible light flickered across the land.
“Uh, Pound,” she said.
He glanced back, untying the harness from his chest. “Yeah, what is it?” he asked.
“We just… I mean, you shot that pony in the armory… he probably died… I shot those ponies in the watchtower… they probably died…”
“Yeah, so?” asked Pound, finished untying the harness from his body.
She got out of the cart and walked over to Pound. “Well, I mean, they were probably somepony’s father, or brother, or something.”
Pound raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah? This is war. What did you expect when you signed up for the ASDF? Sunshine and butterflies? Jeez, Pumpkin, I thought that you were the smart one.”
“But we killed them, Pound.”
He shrugged. “So we killed them. They were shooting at us first, and we shot back, and they died, and we didn’t. What’s the issue?”
She paused for a moment, thinking.
In her silence, he continued, “They’re cold-blooded killers who destroyed peace in Equestria with their invasion,” said Pound, gesturing with his hoof. “They take food from ponies and starve them to death. They think they’re the best, just because they’re unicorns. We’re defending ourselves from them so that everypony can be equal again, so that we can be free again. So what’s the issue?”
Pumpkin shrugged. Then, she chuckled. “I guess there isn’t one. I suppose that they really did deserve to die. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You weren’t thinking,” said Pound, grinning. “Don’t second-guess yourself. I second-guessed myself all the time after mom and dad died. I kept thinking that it was my fault. Well, maybe it was, or maybe it wasn’t. I learned from my mistakes and I moved on, just like Spitfire taught me. And never again will I let myself be depressed or think that I’m anything short of awesome, like I was depressed after our parents died. Neither should you. You’re more awesome than even I am, actually. Think about it. There’s plenty of great flyers out there. I’m one of millions. But there’s only one pony who can walk through walls. You’re one in a million.”
Pumpkin smiled. “This is true. I promise not to second guess myself again.”
“That’s my sister!” he exclaimed. He reached out with his hooves and they both hugged each other.
Sheriff Silverstar sat in his office, writing out a report. The bell above his door rung as Pound and Pumpkin Cake walked in.
“Back already, huh? I told y’all that raidin’ an armory ain’t easy. Now why don’t y’all go off and train with those revolvers at the range—“
Pound reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a grenade, tossing it onto Sheriff Silverstar’s desk.
His jaw dropped as he ducked under the table. “SHE’S GONNA BLOW!”
“I didn’t pull the pin on it, you dork!” Pound guffawed. He fell to the floor, rolling around hysterically. Pumpkin covered her mouth with her hoof as she laughed as well.
The sheriff got up from his desk, breathing a sigh of relief. “Y’all don’t need to scare me like that!”
“Well, there’s more where that came from,” said Pumpkin, pointing towards the door. “Come and take a look.”
Silverstar walked out the door and gasped as he saw the cart full of armaments. He wiped his eyes with his hoof, making sure that he wasn’t hallucinating.
When he saw that he wasn’t, he removed his hat, placing it over his chest, and declared, “Land’s sakes! There’s enough here for a small army!”
“Now we don’t have to use those stupid revolvers and rifles!” Pound exclaimed.
“Hooray!” said Pumpkin.
The sheriff narrowed his eyes, leering at Pound and Pumpkin.
Pound put his hoof up. “Hey, I’m sure that those ol’ guns were really cool back in the 1800’s or whenever, and those gunslingin’ cowpokes pro’lly ‘rassled up a lot of buff’lo ‘n’ all,” he said, imitating the western accent of Appleloosa, “but nowadays, to fight an actual war against ponies who actually have guns and rockets to fight back with instead of bows and arrows, you need real guns like these.”
“Hey, sheriff,” said Pumpkin.
He glanced over at her.
“Didn’t you promise to eat your hat?”
“Here comes Santa Hooves, here comes Santa Hooves, Right down Canterlot lane Pumpkin’s in the cart with Pound the pegasus pullin’ on the reins. Secret mission, lots of whisperin’ Under cover of night Cross your hooves and say your prayers ‘Cause Santa Hooves comes tonight.
“Here comes Santa Hooves, here comes Santa Hooves, Right down Canterlot lane Fillin’ up the cart with guns For lots of fun, hooray! Hear those twins and all their din, The guards have them in their sight, So grab your arms and shelter from harm ‘Cause Santa Hooves comes tonight.
“Here comes Santa Hooves, here comes Santa Hooves, Right down Canterlot lane. Pegasus, earth, or unicorn, They’ll shoot you just the same. Santa Hooves knows they all deserve it, That makes everything right. So dig more Second Kingdom graves ‘Cause Santa Hooves comes tonight!”
“That was Cheese Sandwich and his newest hit parody song, ‘Here Comes Santa Hooves.’ We’ll be right back with more KPON Equestrian top forty in just a minute.”
Pound Cake grinned from ear to ear as he turned away from the radio towards Pumpkin. “That’s us! The song’s about us and that raid we did!”
“W-what?” Pumpkin stammered, jaw dropping. “How on earth did he know, like, I mean, he wasn’t even there—”
Pound put up his hoof to Pumpkin’s lips, shaking his head. “Don’t question the Cheese, Pumpkin. He has his ways.”
Canterlot, May 2024
“After careful inventory and assessment of the damage, we’ve determined the total of stolen or destroyed weapons to be seven hundred rifles, two hundred grenades, and twenty thousand rounds of ammunition. The rifles included three hundred of the model SK-12, two hundred UMR-1—”
Blueblood raised his hoof. “I don’t need to hear the specific models, General. How many of our total weapons are missing?”
“At least ten percent of the small arms reserve capacity of the Flatlands battalion,” said General Top Brass, glancing up from the clipboard which sat on the conference table in front of him. “I’ve got dozens of stallions on that base who don’t have anything to shoot with now. And hundreds more have limited ammunition. The Flatlands is now vulnerable to more Equestrian attacks.”
Blueblood shook his head. “We’ll have to ramp up production at the munitions factories to make up this shortfall.”
Economic Ministers Flim and Flam raised their hooves.
“Yes, ministers Flim and Flam. What is it?” asked Blueblood.
“King Blueblood, the factories are already operating at full capacity around the clock,” said Flim.
“We may not be able to replace those weapons until September or October,” Flim added.
Trixie threw her hooves into the air. “Who told those idiots in the air traffic control tower that it was safe to fire a rocket-propelled grenade at an armory full of explosives? I’m no war expert like you, General, but I’m still brilliant, and that doesn’t seem safe to me! Those stallions should be executed for incompetence!”
General Top Brass drew back in his seat. “Those stallions are already dead, along with five others. As for their decisions, they made the right call by shooting at hostiles on the roof. The armory had reinforced concrete walls and two-inch thick steel roofs. It was supposed to be able to withstand a bomb blast. There were armed guards outside. It was supposed to be burglar and saboteur proof.”
“Yes, but it’s not intangibility-proof,” Trixie scoffed.
“Of course it’s not,” Propoganda Minister Fancy Pants chuckled, speaking for the first time during the meeting. Trixie leered at him and his cheeks turned slightly pink.
“Do we know where the thieves took the weapons?” asked Blueblood, keeping his eyes fixed on the general as he ignored Trixie and Fancy Pants’ side-conversation.
The general shrugged. “That’s the confusing thing about all of this. Equestria already has a huge munitions factory in Fillydelphia. From what we’ve seen on the battlefield, they usually have enough weapons on the front lines, and their weapons are just as advanced as ours. So why did they want to steal our weapons? If they just wanted to keep us from using them, why didn’t they just blow up the armory and be done with it? Instead, blowing it up appears to have been an afterthought: they wanted the weapons. But why did they have to steal them? And why only a single cart? It makes no sense.”
“Perhaps this wasn’t an officially sanctioned mission,” said Blueblood. “It might have just been some rogue bandits.”
“That’s exactly who it was. Those twins are only in their mid-teens. As desperate as Equestria is right now, I doubt that they would condone the use of soldiers that young,” said Trixie. “Twilight and Luna would never allow it.”
“Unless Equestria is arming the general populace,” said the General. “Or the civilians have decided to arm themselves against the wishes of the Equestrian government. Are they really that desperate?”
“Perhaps,” said Blueblood. “If they did want to arm the civilians, they’d need a lot more than a single cart full of guns. They only stole enough to arm a single small town.”
“A town like Ponyville,” said Flam.
“Not even that big,” Flim corrected. “Ponyville has several thousand residents. And we already have it on lockdown.”
“Maybe a town like Appleloosa,” said the General. “It’s the next town that we plan to take, right before harvesting season this fall. It’s small in population, but it’s a major apple growing center.”
“Once we take it, it will help ease our food shortages this winter,” said Flam.
“They’ve figured our plan out, then,” said Fancy Pants. “We’ll never be able to take Appleloosa now. At least, not without civilian cas—”
“You aren’t a civilian if you pick up a gun,” said the General, narrowing his eyebrows. “That whole town should be treated as enemy combatants now, and its population neutralized.”
Fancy Pants started, “But we don’t even know if that’s where they took all the—”
“I agree, General,” said Blueblood, cutting off Fancy Pants, “but you know this better than anypony, Top Brass: I can’t afford to reallocate any additional troops to the Appleloosa invasion force. Our forces are already stretched thin. We’re outnumbered, and it’s only by our racial, magical superiority and Zebra allies that we have done as well as we have.”
“Maybe it’s time to get another ally,” said Trixie. “I’ve been working on a little project that might help us with that.”
“That would aid us phenomenally,” said Blueblood, grinning. “And maybe it’s also time to recruit soldiers from the captured areas like Mareicopa and Ponyville. Our recent issue with weapons aside, our true problem in this war is troops. Guns and bullets can be remade, but stallions can’t. We’re heavily outnumbered on the battlefield.”
Fancy Pants shook his head. “We can’t recruit from captured cities. Equestrians would never fight other Equestrians. Even if we drafted them and forced them to fight, they’d just all run or fly away and defect back to Equestria.”
“That might be true for the earth ponies and pegasi, and I would never have them in my army anyway,” said Blueblood. “But there’s hundreds of thousands of unicorns who live in Mareicopa. The city is nearly 40% unicorn, and has been under our rule for over a year. Surely some of the unicorns in Mareicopa now feel a sense of kinship with the Second Kingdom?”
“Well, I’m not sure how much good it’s done, but I’ve put up the posters on the walls and adverts on the Mareicopa radio stations like you said,” said Fancy Pants, shrugging.
“Good,” said Blueblood. “I’m sure it’s working, and am positive that the unicorns there have begun to see the light of day. And now, you’ll advertise our military and encourage enlistment. Some of these unicorns in Mareicopa will surely be willing to fight for us. After all, they are now treated like the supreme race of ponies that they are, and don’t have to answer to those inferiors any longer. Though, unfortunately, they still do have to live in the same city with them for the time being. Mostly because of logistics, I haven’t bothered purifying the city yet like I did with Canterlot, or like I’m doing with Ponyville—”
“You shouldn’t, at least not yet,” the General cut in, shaking his head. “Those earth pony doctors and nurses at the hospitals in Mareicopa have healed our wounded stallions quite well. Mareicopa is the health care center of this continent; ponies from all over Equestria went there for treatment before the war. I know that you talk about ‘racial self-reliance’ a lot, and I agree, but there’s nothing wrong with using your strengths and captured resources.”
Blueblood sighed. “As much as it pains me, I concede to your military judgment. The cleansing of our new Second Kingdom cities can begin full-swing after the war. Now, Fancy Pants, I want you to go to Mareicopa and set up a recruitment drive for the unicorns there. If there is any dissent, if anypony speaks out against the war, I want you to make a list of their names and give it to me. They will be dealt with appropriately.”
Fancy Pants nodded weakly.
Trixie smiled, turning to Blueblood. “And I’ll go make us some new allies.”
Out on the prairie west of Appleloosa, a large group of teepees stood. Around a campfire, several dozen buffalo sat. Their chief, a large, chocolate-coated bison with a feather headdress and sharpened horns, spoke a chant and sprinkled herbs into the fire.
“Mareqencia… alluron… shilithar… zanenth…”
The tribe repeated after him as he said each word. His horns dimly glowed pale yellow, about a third as bright as a unicorn’s horn would glow.
The chief spoke. “Let us dance the dance of travel.”
They all got up from the fire, standing up and dusting themselves off. Then, they danced around the campfire in concentric rings, the bulls’ horns all faintly glowing as the cows beat ceremonial drums. After ten go-rounds, they sat back down.
The chief said, “The ritual of safe travel is complete. At dawn, we proceed to the next feeding ground and go with the spirits’ blessings. They follow our hoofsteps and protect us. May our path be the sound of our hooves upon the ground.”
“Amen,” said the rest of the tribe.
As they were about to head back into their teepees for the evening, a voice off in the distance drew their attention.
“Bravo! What an incredible ceremony to behold!”
The buffalo all turned to see an indigo unicorn approaching them. She walked in between the rows of teepees and over to the campfire.
“Incredible, you say? Outsiders don’t normally pay us, our rituals, or the Buffalo Nation any mind. We are an insulated people,” said the chief, chuckling.
“I think it’s a beautiful tradition worthy of admiration,” said Trixie, bowing to the chief.
“Thank you, kind mare,” said the chief. “You are an odd bird. Outsiders normally disrespect our sacred traditions, mocking them and calling them mere ‘hexes’ and ‘hocus pocus’, when our rituals are as real as the magic that they perform. It may not be as flashy as a unicorn’s, but it gets the job done just as well.”
Trixie nodded. “I am well aware of the history of oppression of your people, Chief Thunderhooves. In fact, it rather matches the history of oppression of my own.”
The tribe members all laughed.
“Ponies are not oppressed,” said a small, cinnamon-coated cow, chuckling.
Trixie held up a hoof. “Oh, but I’m not talking about ponies in general, Miss…”
“Little Strongheart,” she said.
“—Little Strongheart, I am talking about the unicorn race in relation to ponies such as earth ponies and pegasi. And there, the oppression is quite clear. May I explain?”
The buffalo all muttered and mumbled confusedly amongst themselves. Chief Thunderhooves held up a hoof and turned to Trixie.
“You may tell your story, but first, tell us your name, young mare.”
“My name is The Gr—uh, Trixie. I am Trixie Lulamoon. And I come from the Second Kingdom.”
The chief raised an eyebrow. “The Second Kingdom? The nation which has made war against Equestria these last few years? We have heard stories of war far from other ponies, but have not seen it here yet.”
Trixie nodded. “Yes, the Second Kingdom has made war against Equestria, in the very same way that the buffalo once made war with Equestria. You were oppressed, you made war.” She motioned to the buffalo around the fire. “We were oppressed, now we make war.” She pointed to herself.
The chief nodded. “We have not made war with the ponies for many moons, but your point is well taken, Trixie Lulamoon. Please tell us why you have made war with Equestria; tell us how you were oppressed.”
Trixie said, “Many years ago, a unicorn named King Sombra conquered a frozen land far to the north of here, called the Crystal Empire, with dark magic. Princess Celestia decided that, because of him, she distrusted all unicorns and all magic. She feared that some of us might do things like he did, and conquer her kingdom, as well.”
Little Strongheart asked, “I haven’t heard of this. Is this the same way that the ponies always claim that the buffalo are just like the cattle, just because we have cloven hooves as they do?”
“Yes, exactly like that,” said Trixie, her face lighting up. “It’s racial profiling based off of a stereotype. After Sombra, Celestia put down the unicorns. Celestia took away the unicorns’ sacred sun-raising ritual, not trusting us to do it anymore, and she decided to do it herself.
“That does sound familiar,” said a bull. Some of the others nodded.
Trixie smiled. “Oh, the resemblance is uncanny, and it doesn’t stop there. Just like the ponies who pass laws restricting your sacred ritual herbs, Celestia locked up many powerful magic spell scrolls in a secret library so we couldn’t use them. Just like the settler ponies who intrude on your land and seek to shrink your traditional stampeding grounds, Celestia demanded that earth ponies and pegasi be allowed to settle the traditional unicorn-only city of Canterlot. Just like the ponies who deny you your right to educate your children, Celestia put herself in charge of magic schools for gifted unicorns.”
Chief Thunderhooves gazed off into the sky. “I see,” he said. “The ponies are as cruel to each other as they are to the buffalo.”
Trixie nodded, pointing to the west. “The town of Appleloosa was made an earth-only town just because of the supposed actions of a single unicorn outlaw and his pegasus accomplice who lived many centuries ago. Earth pony prejudice is so potent that it knows no bounds. Their oppression of us is why the Second Kingdom declared its independence. We decided that if the pegasi could have Cloudsdale and the earth ponies could have Appleloosa, then we could have Canterlot all to ourselves. But they wouldn’t let us go so easily. We are now fighting a war to gain back all the unicorn children who have been taken from us, to support ourselves through farming, and to gain enough land and natural resources to do it.”
“I say it is a noble goal, then!” said Chief Thunderhooves. Some of the buffalo nodded along with him.
Trixie smiled. “Thank you, Chief Thunderhooves. However, we can’t do it alone.”
She paused, letting the words sink in.
She continued, “You see, the Equestrians have sabotaged our farming in the northern Flatlands. They don’t want unicorns to be self-sufficient and have our own nation; they want us to have to rely on earth ponies to grow our food rather than grow our own. So they’ve attacked our armory and ability to defend ourselves. They have salted the earth, blown up our tractors and harvesters, and even killed our farmers, some of whom were as young as fourteen.”
The buffalo gasped.
Trixie sighed, motioning with a hoof towards the stars. “Yes, just as their prejudice knows no bounds, neither does their cruelty, and they’ve resorted to genocidal tactics. Many thousands of unicorns in the Second Kingdom have starved because of this, and it is only by taking land that we know they won’t attack—land of their own—that we can eat. We have taken Ponyville’s apples for ourselves, but it isn’t nearly enough. We need to capture far more farms and food, or thousands more unicorns may starve to death for daring to want to live free of the other two races who have oppressed us for centuries.”
She pointed in the direction of Appleloosa. “Appleloosa is our target. There are thousands and thousands of apple trees stretching as far as the eye can see across the plains, more than enough to feed all of Canterlot. It’s called the Orchard of Equestria for a reason. However, it won’t be easy for us to capture alone. Our unicorn troops are stretched thin in other areas of the continent, such as the road from Canterlot to Ponyville, which Equestria attacks daily. And the Appleloosans are all armed.
“That is why I, the Magical Research Minister of the Second Kingdom, have come to make an alliance, a proposal to the Buffalo Nation. I do this on behalf of King Blueblood, who has authorized me to extend this offer.”
The buffalo murmured amongst each other. Little Strongheart bit her hooves, her eyes shifting. Chief Thunderhooves held up a hoof.
“Let us hear your proposal, Trixie Lulamoon.”
“Very well,” said Trixie. “King Blueblood proposes an alliance between the Second Kingdom and the Buffalo Nation, whereby the Buffalo Nation assists us in taking Appleloosa and all of its apples in the surrounding orchards. In return, the Buffalo Nation will get custody of all the land that it helps us capture as well as the earth pony trespassers who currently occupy it, to do with as you please. The Buffalo Nation will also be recognized as an independent nation by the Second Kingdom and treated as such.”
“We already are a sovereign nation,” said Chief Thunderhooves.
Trixie shook her head. “Sovereign, yes, but not independent. The Cloud Confederacy is independent. The Second Kingdom is independent. The Changeling Collective is independent. The Buffalo Nation, on the other hoof, is not independent at all. You get to choose your leaders, but even your chief is ultimately subjugated to Equestria. And look at how well that has worked out for the buffalo...”
Trixie’s horn glowed as a piece of parchment appeared in front of her. She opened it up with her telekinesis and read.
“The Treaty of Tortoise Shell, 1867, in which Equestria agreed to not settle south of Ponyville in what was then buffalo lands: broken. The Treaty of Playa Del Sol, 1883, in which Equestria agreed to respect water rights on the Everfree River: broken. The Treaty of Sacred Lands, 1921, in which the buffalo are relegated to reservations: broken by the Treaty of Looming Meadows, 1943, in which the size of said reservations are reduced by half.
“The Treaty of Teeming Ridge, 1971, in which Equestria agreed to not run train tracks through the Buffalo Nation between Dodge Junction and Mareicopa: broken. The most recent, the Treaty of Appleloosa, 2010, in which the town of Appleloosa agreed to supply apple pies in exchange for growing apples on Buffalo land. Not yet broken, but for how long? I’m seeing a pattern here, and I don’t like it. I’m sure that you don’t, either.”
The buffalo all shook their heads.
Trixie chuckled. “That’s what happens when you are a ‘sovereign’ nation rather than a truly independent nation. Other nations don’t respect your treaties, because they have ultimate power to overrule them. The Second Kingdom will never deal with the Buffalo Nation in such a way. We will treat you as equals. We will let you keep your historical lands, and we will recognize your ability to determine your own destiny as a people, just as we seek to determine ours. Our struggle against the Equestrians is common.”
The chief paused for a moment as he turned his head sideways. Finally, he answered.
“Say that I were to accept. How do you propose that we conquer Appleloosa? We have no weapons besides bows and arrows, and a few spare hunting rifles that we traded for.”
Trixie grinned. “With magic, of course. Didn’t I mention that I’m the Magical Research Minister? I can help you unlock the power hidden in those horns of yours. With a bit of engineering, you can go from having your horns faintly glow and bring about vague, unscientific prophecies, to being able to actually levitate things as well as I can.”
She demonstrated by picking up a smoldering log out of the fire with her magic. The buffalo gazed at it, intrigued, many having never seen a unicorn perform magic before.
Trixie placed the log back. “But, of course, even many of the unicorn troops rely on machine guns and other physical weapons, because not all of us are as magically gifted as I am.” She pointed towards herself and grinned. “Rest assured that you will be well armed with conventional weapons as well.”
She paused for a moment. None of the buffalo said anything else.
“Ah, so I see that there are no more questions. So, will you join us?”
The buffalo all looked at each other, and then at Chief Thunderhooves.
The chief stood up and said, “This decision cannot be made in a single evening. I will consult the council and my tribe members, and then I will sign or not sign the treaty with the Second Kingdom.”
Trixie nodded. “Very well. King Blueblood and I will be staying nearby in Mareicopa if you decide to join us. He is very eager to sign the treaty.”
She threw down a puff of smoke on the ground, temporarily blocking the view of the buffalo, as she ran back to Mareicopa.
Pound and Pumpkin Cake stood at the firing range, practicing with machine guns on the targets of Blueblood’s face. They had gotten quite a bit better at aiming, and most of their shots were hitting the cardboard cut-out of the unicorn king.
“Tarnation! If I didn’t know no better, I’d say y’all were startin’ to actually look like soldiers!”
The twins turned around to see Sheriff Silverstar observing them, nodding approvingly.
“Thanks,” they both said.
He smiled. “Now, when y’all can hit him in the eye every time, then you’ll be up to my skill, but that takes years of sharpshootin’ practice.”
The twins looked at each other. That seemed like a long time.
“Sheriff Silverstar!”
The sheriff glanced behind to see a buffalo galloping towards him. “Little Strongheart? What brings you around here?” he asked.
She panted as she skidded to a stop next to him, kicking up dirt.
“In a hurry, huh?” asked Pound Cake.
“Yes. I come with... ominous news,” she said in between breaths.
The sheriff turned his head sideways. “Ominous?”
“A unicorn calling herself Trixie has come to ask the Buffalo Nation to sign a treaty to join with the Second Kingdom and attack Appleloosa.”
The twins looked at each other silently.
Sheriff Silverstar said, “Y’all ain’t gonna accept, are you? There’s already a peace treaty with Appleloosa! We give the buffalo all them apple pies every year in exchange for plantin’ apple trees on their land.”
Little Strongheart shook her head. “Trixie has convinced many of them that you intend to someday break the treaty just the same as Equestria broke every single other treaty with the Buffalo before, and—.”
“Hogwash! It’s different this time, we swear!” the sheriff interjected.
“—she says the only way to stop is to become an independent nation,” Little Strongheart finished.
“They Second Kingdom is dividing and conquering the Buffalo from Equestria just like they did with the Cloud Confederacy, just like the unicorns living in Ponyville,” said Pumpkin Cake. “It’s what they do because it works.”
“I know,” said Little Strongheart, sighing. “I do not want a war with Equestria or Appleloosa. So I need somepony to tell the tribe the other side of the story. I don’t know much Equestrian history, but surely the earth ponies and pegasi were not so cruel to the unicorns? Surely you don’t oppress them and seek genocide?“
Pound chuckled. “Is that what she told you? What a liar!”
“Why, I’ve heard better sob story yarns spun from crooks on death row,” the Sheriff scoffed.
“It’s exaggerated history, yes, but some of it is true. Unicorns have been oppressed by Equestria. This earth pony-only town is living proof,” said Pumpkin.
Pound and Sheriff Silverstar both glared at Pumpkin, but she stood her ground, unblinking.
“What? Do you two honestly think that thousands of unicorns just woke up one day and decided to attack Equestria for the fun of it? That every day they put on black top hats, cackle maniacally, and twirl their mustaches while bombing earth ponies and pegasi? No. There were good reasons. Yes, what the Second Kingdom has done is still very wrong. Trixie killed my parents, kidnapped me, and enslaved me, for Celestia’s sake. If anypony has a right to hate them, it’s me. But if we go speak to the Buffalo, we tell them the entire truth. We don’t sugar-coat it, but we don’t give them propaganda like Trixie did. I’m tired of the lies.”
Little Strongheart nodded. “There is an old buffalo saying. When the war begins, the truth is the first casualty.”
“Alright,” said the sheriff. “I suppose I should go and try to make peace with ‘em. Not sure how much good it’ll do, but—”
“Pumpkin and I should come,” Pound interrupted.
Pumpkin raised an eyebrow. “And speak to all those buffalo?”
Pound chuckled. “You literally just gave a speech to the four of us like, ten seconds ago about the unicorns. What’s the problem?”
“Nothing, I guess, but we’re just fourteen. Will they really take us seriously?” Pumpkin asked.
“They’ll take a pegasus and a unicorn more seriously than just an earth pony, especially if Trixie told them that unicorns are oppressed in Equestria. How much would it blow their minds if you and I showed up to speak for Appleloosa?” asked Pound.
Little Strongheart shrugged. “Well, it’s either the three of you, or just the sheriff by himself.”
“Whichever way y’all wanna do it, it don’t matter a lick to me,” said Sheriff Silverstar. “I don’t got very good speakin’ skills, but I can give it a whirl all on my lonesome if y’all wanna stay behind and don’t wanna give no speech.”
Pumpkin grimaced at his slang. “No, it’s okay, we’ll come with you. We don’t mind.”
The buffalo sat inside of their teepees as the hot sun glared down on the prairie. They talked and debated amongst themselves, still trying to decide whether or not to join the Second Kingdom.
“Attention, Buffalo tribe members! This is Little Strongheart, and I have an important message for you!”
One by one, the buffalo emerged from their tents. Though she wasn’t the chief, Little Strongheart still held sway as the chief’s daughter. She stood in front of the Cake twins and Sheriff Silverstar.
“This is Sheriff Silverstar, this is Pound Cake, and this is Pumpkin Cake,” she said, pointing to each of them as she said their names. “They’re from Appleloosa, and they want to set some things straight about what Trixie said last night.”
The buffalo muttered as Sheriff Silverstar stepped forward.
“Little Strongheart here told us about the treaty that Trixie is proposin.’ Need I remind y’all that there’s a treaty with Appleloosa that is still in force, agreein’ to peace in exchange for apple pies? No peace, no pies. Don’t y’all like our cookin’ no more?”
He stalled for a moment, trying to think of something else to say.
“The Second Kingdom stole food from Ponyville and starved a hundred of ‘em to death. They kidnapped Pumpkin Cake here and forced her to farm for ‘em. They started the first civil war ever in Equestria. They ain’t good folk.”
“Neither are you!” one of the buffalos yelled, standing up and pointing his hoof at the sheriff.
“You callin’ me a liar?” Sheriff Silverstar asked, his brow furrowed. He stepped forward towards the buffalo heckler until he found himself surrounded in a blue glow as Pumpkin pushed him aside.
“Let me go!” the sheriff insisted, his legs flailing in the air.
“Thank you, sheriff,” said Pumpkin. She stepped forward, her face sweating slightly.
She gulped. Then, after a few seconds, she finally spoke. “Pound Cake and I lived in Ponyville four years ago. It was a peaceful town, and we had a good life. Then, the Second Kingdom invaded. They kidnapped me, killed my parents, and tore my family apart. Then, they segregated the town, kicking all the earth ponies and pegasi out of their houses and moving them to the slums while the unicorns got all the nice land.”
The buffalo muttered disapprovingly.
Little Strongheart said, “The Second Kingdom likes to talk about self-reliance and self-determination, but where was Pumpkin Cake’s self-determination? Where was Ponyville’s self-determination? There’s only one sort of self-determination that they care about, and that’s if you are a unicorn and they have a use for you. Once they don’t have a use for you, they toss you aside.”
Pound Cake hovered in the air, addressing the crowd. “The Second Kingdom doesn’t care about you buffalo. They pretend to care because it serves them right now, but what happens when it doesn’t anymore? The unicorns in the Second Kingdom think that they’re the master race. Do you know what the master race means? It means that they think that they’re better than you just because they’re unicorns and you’re not! They look down on you!”
“When Trixie said that the Second Kingdom would treat the Buffalo Nation as equals, she was lying,” said Little Strongheart. “How can you treat someone as an equal when you begin with the assumption that you are superior and they are inferior?”
Sheriff Silverstar stepped forward once more and said, “Now, I know that Equestria ain’t always been truthful with the Buffalo Nation. I didn’t have a say in it, and if I did, you’re darn tootin’ I woulda been more respectful of the treaties I signed, just like I’ve been respectful of the Treaty of Appleloosa. Unlike some’a our politicians, I conduct myself with honor. Sadly, the past is the past, and the broken treaties are still broken. But that ain’t no reason to go destroy our two people’s friendship. Y’all trade with us; we trade with y’all. We give y’all pies; y’all let us grow apples on your land. We come gamble at your casinos; y’all come buy liquor at our town. That ain’t gonna happen no more if there’s a war between us.”
Pumpkin Cake spoke again. “Most of you have never seen war. It’s not fun. You have to kill others, and your friends and family might die. You might want to sign up for it now, but you can trust me that after you do, you won’t want to anymore. You’ll just want it to be over. The best way to stop it is to never start it.”
“I still have nightmares about my parents dying, and so does Pumpkin,” said Pound. “She and I only fight because we’re defending the ponies that we love, and we have no other choice. The Buffalo Nation does NOT have to fight. You do have a choice, and I think you should say no to war and say yes to peace.”
The ponies and Little Strongheart remained quiet for a few moments. After nopony else said anything, Sheriff Silverstar turned around and walked off.
“Hope y’all make the right decision,” he said as he left.
Pound hovered, saying, “Don’t do something you might regret.” Then he flew off.
“It’s in your hooves now,” said Pumpkin Cake. Her horn lit up as she teleported away.
The bright desert sun shimmered off of the windows of the skyscrapers of the city of Mareicopa. In the year-and-a-half since the Second Kingdom had taken Mareicopa, it had been transformed. Its normally bustling streets were reduced to a trickle, as armed unicorn guards stood around, smoking and milling about. Earth ponies and pegasi passed them by furtively, careful not to do anything too suspicious. Even the unicorns who were native to Mareicopa rarely spoke to or even looked at the Second Kingdom soldiers directly. They had heard of the Flim Flam rally shooting in Ponyville, and they didn’t want to get on the soldiers’ bad side.
The somber demeanor of the city was despite the best efforts of Fancy Pants and Blueblood. Giant posters hung all over the sides of buildings, plastered over the red and orange stucco walls the city was known for. The posters promised unicorns a better life in the Second Kingdom than life in Equestria. A giant marble statue of a smiling King Blueblood had been erected in front of city hall. When it had been winter in Canterlot, posters and brochures had encouraged residents to take a vacation from the harsh mountain blizzards and visit the perpetually-warm city of Mareicopa.
Inside one of the office buildings in Mareicopa, Trixie sat at a table with King Blueblood. They drank water from plastic cups around a round conference table covered in paperwork.
“So, how goes the magical research, Miss Lulamoon?” he asked. “Are the Mareicopan scientists that we’ve appropriated working well for you?”
Trixie smiled. “Yes, it’s going quite well. Our Canterlot division, as well as our Mareicopa division are making excellent scientific progress! The buffalo will be magically enhanced and combat ready before we know it.”
“Do you think that I could see some of the results?” asked Blueblood.
Trixie shook her head. “It’s in a changing phase right now. I’d prefer to show it to you when it’s complete. But we’re confident in our results.”
Blueblood smiled. “Very well.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, and then at a report on the table.
A paper document sat in front of Trixie, which she kept out of Blueblood’s sight.
“BUFFALO MAGIC ENHANCEMENT TECHNIQUES: RESULTS INCONCLUSIVE. MORE TEST SUBJECTS NEEDED.”
She sighed, shaking her head. Trixie internally lamented. Would she ever make a breakthrough in her research? Not just buffalo super soldiers, but with everything else? It always seemed like her projects were “inconclusive,” and she couldn’t name even a single major advancement that she had made in the field of magic since Blueblood had named her as the Magical Research Minister.
There had been a few minor successes here and there, with precognition and flight magic in particular. But they had proven impossible for her to replicate outside of a tight laboratory setting. The unicorns that she had tested on weren’t showing much that she could present to Blueblood to help him win the war.
As for the buffalo, they had only rarely been able to levitate small objects. She had gotten scarce results with energy-based spells, though she only had a few subjects to work with.
There was a knock at the door of her office. She glanced up.
“Come in!”
The door opened, and Chief Thunderhooves walked in, along with a bodyguard. Blueblood’s head jolted up, as did Trixie’s. The Chief was the reason they were both waiting in the meeting room.
Blueblood smiled. “Ah, Chief Thunderhooves. Have you made your decision yet?”
The chief nodded. “Yes, I have, King Blueblood. We will help you take Appleloosa. I have also spoken to other chiefs of buffalo tribes throughout the plains of Equestria. Many of them are with me as well.”
“Excellent!” Trixie and King Blueblood exclaimed together.
“I’ve drawn up a treaty between our nations, which is on the desk in front of me,” said Blueblood, levitating it over towards him.
“Once you’ve signed if, if you would please gather up all bulls of fighting age in your tribe and have them report to this building for armament and magical enhancement,” said Trixie. “This is the Mareicopa branch of the Second Kingdom’s Magical Research Department. Since it’s closer than the branch in Canterlot, all enhancement will occur here.”
“I will gather the bulls. But some of them may not come here willingly,” said the chief, shaking his head.
Blueblood grinned. “Don’t worry, Chief Thunderhooves. We’ll send some unicorns to… nudge them along.”
The chief nodded. He took a pen and signed his name on the treaty before him. Blueblood signed his name as well.
“I will do what you have said,” said the Chief. “May our two nations be ever united as brothers against our common foes. And may we never be oppressed again.”
“You have our assurances. Unlike the Equestrians’, they are worth the paper that they’re written on,” said Blueblood.
Thunderhooves and Blueblood shook hooves. Then, he left the room, and Trixie and King Blueblood were alone once more.
“With your research and our new buffalo allies, we will seize the momentum of this war,” said Blueblood. “We can invade and take Appleloosa by the start of fall!”
Trixie grinned. “With my research, we’ll turn the buffalo into magical killing machines!”
She silently gulped. She certainly hoped that what she said was true. For years, she had been giving Blueblood nothing but promises and reassurances about her magical research.
“Tarnation!” Sheriff Silverstar yelled, swinging his hoof through the air. “I just don’t understand how Chief Thunderhooves could go and sign that treaty with Blueblood.”
“Neither do I!” said Pound Cake, throwing his hooves up into the air. “I mean, we all went over there and made a really good speech to the tribe! Was he just not listening?”
Little Strongheart shook her head. “Chief Thunderhooves is hot-headed. He is quick to anger, but slow to forgive. I guess that he just wanted to make war for the sake of his honor, to ‘reclaim our ancestral lands,’ and did not want to back down from a fight. There were plenty of the buffalo elders who opposed him, but there were enough who were loyal to him that he could sign the treaty.”
“Well, let’s hope that cooler heads prevail, like they did back durin’ the first treaty I signed with ‘em in 2010. You know, the apple pie treaty,” said Silverstar.
“Let’s hope,” said Pound. “But seriously, though. How could Thunderhooves believe a pony like Trixie? Lying, no-good, backstabbing Trixie? Why would he listen to her? Why would anypony listen to her?”
“I think I know,” said Pumpkin. “You know what Trixie’s special talent is, right?”
“Uh…” Sheriff Silverstar said. “Ain’t it magic? She’s got that magic wand cutie mark, right?”
“Nope, it’s not magic,” said Pumpkin. “My talent is magic, which is why I’m good at it. But Trixie? She can’t even teleport, for Luna’s sake. No, her talent is manipulation, deceit, trickery. That’s even her name: Trixie. Think about it. Before she was the ‘magical research head’ or whatever she is, she started off as a stage magician. Stage magic isn’t actually real magic, but the magician convinces everyone that it is, because they use sleight of hoof and misdirection.
“Those are the same tactics that Trixie uses to lie to ponies. She’ll tell them one thing that sounds really good, all the while she’ll be using them for her own ends when they aren’t looking. It’s the same way she convinced a lot of the young unicorns from Ponyville that their special talent was actually farming, even though they already had real cutie marks. She dazzled them with deception.”
“And she’s older than y’all, too,” said Sheriff Silverstar. “Y’all two are pretty bright for fourteen-year-olds, but you’re still just fourteen. All things the same, a pony might be tempted to believe Trixie just ‘cause she’s older.”
“Well, whatever reason that the Chief decided to sign the treaty, it’s done,” said Little Strongheart. “I will keep in touch with this town, and I will let you know if I see any movements that could signal an imminent invasion.”
Sheriff Silverstar smiled. “Thank you, Little Strongheart. I’m glad at least some of the buffalo don’t want no war.”
Manehattan Laboratories, August 2024
The bleached white walls of the palace were illuminated by fluorescent lights which shone from the tiled roof. Ponies walked to and fro, wearing white lab coats and carrying beakers, boxes, and other items.
Next to a table with beakers, bunsen burners, and microscopes, Zecora stood, narrowing her eyes as she gazed inside of a glass box.
She put her hooves inside of the box, where rubber hoses shielded her from the caustic, dangerous chemicals. A yellow hood with a clear plastic face covered Zecora’s face, protecting her from any fumes.
She carefully maneuvered a vial of grey liquid, slowly pouring it into a beaker full of purple liquid as it trickled.
Just as the last drop fell into the beaker, it shattered, cracking as the liquid splashed all over the thick glass of the box. Zecora narrowed her eyes. Thankfully, the glass was explosion proof.
“I could do with a little less tetranium carbide. That is something that I have not yet tried,” said Zecora.
The other chemists simply shook their heads, returning to their tasks. Zecora sighed as she left the room, removing her chemical hood and stepping out into the hallway. Just as she stepped into the hallway, Zecora saw Twilight approaching her.
“Hello, Zecora,” said Twilight Sparkle. How’s your research project coming along? Have you come up with the special potion that you needed?”
Zecora shook her head. “Not yet, Princess Twilight. I still need to get the formula just right.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “Take as much time as you need. We have the best equipment that money can buy, and all of Equestria’s best chemists on the task.”
She motioned with a hoof around the laboratory.
“Though I still don’t know how this relates to assassinating Emperor Zaporizhia,” she added, a puzzled look on her face.
Zecora chuckled. “Patience, young alicorn, you must find. The answers will all come in time.”
“Okay. Well, keep at it, Zecora. Equestria is counting on you.”
Twilight smiled and walked away as Zecora went back into the laboratory. She walked over the table where she saw that one of her assistants had already brought her the chemicals that she needed for the next trial.
She smiled at the assistant, who blushed and scurried off to some other task.
Zecora put her chemical hood back on, taking a set of tongs in her front hooves and carefully positioning the vial into the box, closing the top. then, she reached her hooves into the rubber guards as she mixed the two substances together.
The resultant purple mix boiled and simmered, and Zecora’s heart sunk as she prepared for another explosion.
Instead, the mix died down into a resultant green compound which sat, unmoving, inside the box. Zecora grinned from ear to ear.
“This is such good news. The vial contains a mix I can use!”
Mareicopa Department of Magical Research: August 2024
Trixie sat at her desk in Mareicopa, levitating a pen in front of her as she signed documents and read reports.
There was a knock on her door.
“Come in,” she beckoned, and a stallion wearing a yellow rubber suit walked in.
“Greetings, Research Minister Lulamoon,” he said, giving her a salute.
Trixie cleared her throat. The stallion blushed.
“I’m sorry. Greetings, Great and Powerful Research Minister Lulamoon.”
Trixie smiled. “That’s better, Doctor Stekton. They don’t teach you respect at the universities these days?”
Doctor Stekton shook his head.
Trixie sighed. “I’ll have to see King Blueblood about that. So, what is it that you want?”
“Well, ma’am, our preliminary results from Project Clovenhoof are in, and I thought that you might want to see them.”
Trixie smiled, jumping up from her desk. “Excellent! Let’s go down there and see.”
The stallion led the way, and Trixie walked with him downstairs. The hallway was brightly lit, and there were glass panes through which Trixie could look in on the various other rooms in the department.
“The mental acumen approach has been only moderately successful,” said Stekton as they walked. “Subjects one, two, and three were given the best of the best magical instruction available, just as in magical schools. However, after two months, they can only just barely levitate a pencil for a few seconds. They may get better in time, but we may not have enough time.”
Trixie shook her head. “The buffalo aren’t as inherently magical as unicorns. We already knew this. We are the master race for a reason.”
Stekton nodded. “Subjects four, five, and six, who were given psychoactive drugs, showed moderate potential. They demonstrated some heavy object levitation, pyrokinesis, even teleportation on one occasion.”
Trixie smiled. “Terrific! Would it be usable on the battlefield?”
Stekton shook his head as they rounded a corner next to the restrooms. “I’m afraid not, Minister. The drugs aren’t easy to synthesize, and wear off rather quickly. Also, they can lead to some… delusions.”
She groaned. “Tell me some good news, Stekton!”
Stekton flinched slightly, but otherwise stood his ground. “Well, you remember how we received seven volunteers, yes? And I’ve only told you about six of them.”
She nodded.
“Well, we put the seventh in a limited biomechanical trial run program. We didn’t expect much success, which is why we only devoted a single volunteer to it. But the seventh has actually shown incredible progress. Far more than the others, in fact.”
They reached the end of the hall and walked through a doorway which led to a dark staircase.
Stekton narrowed his eyes as they walked. “We had to move him to the secure basement area after a slight... incident. Seems that he had reservations—no pun intended—about volunteering, and decided against carrying through with the trial all the way. But given his success, we couldn’t have him turning against us.”
Finally, after walking down several dozen stairs, they reached the basement, and walked down a long, dimly-lit concrete hallway. Puddles of water gathered on the floor, and it had a dank, musty smell.
They reached a giant, round, steel blast door at the end of the basement hallway. Right in front of the door stood two unicorn stallions who looked to be in their mid-20’s. One was a tall, lanky, stallion with a dark teal mane and a coat the color of rotten squash. The other was a short, stocky, stallion with a fiery-red mane and an aquamarine coat.
“Greetings, Great and Powerful Trixie!” they both shouted in unison, bowing to her.
“Snips? Snails?” Trixie blinked several times. Then, she turned to Stekton. “What are these two doing here? This is a place of science, not of foolish schoolyard antics and undying adoration! ...Though I must admit,” she blushed, “I do rather like the undying adoration part.”
“Snails and I are working on some biomechanics with the buffalo. Stekton hired us on as interns when we graduated from Mareicopa State last year, just in time for the unicorn master race to come and use our talents,” said Snips.
“We’re scientists, following in your hoofsteps, Great Trixie!” proclaimed Snails.
“Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You two… graduated… from college? I mean, a dirt pony college, but even still?”
Stekton nodded. “I see a lot of potential in these two. That’s why I hired them.”
Trixie narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t approve this, Stekton!”
Stekton shrunk back. “But, you did give me power over hiring and firing, Trixie...” he started, his voice trailing off as Trixie opened her mouth to speak. But she was interrupted by Snips.
“I handle the mechanical part, all the electrical wiring. I cut ‘em to the right length, and wire ‘em all together!” he said, pointing to his cutie mark of a pair of scissors.
“And I handle all the blood and guts!” said Snails, pointing to his cutie mark of a snail.
“Together we make a great team,” said Snips.
Trixie scoffed. “Well, let’s take a look at the results that you’ve gotten. Then we’ll see.”
Stekton leaned down to the blast door and put his horn into a hole. It beeped, and then opened.
“Biometric horn-print security door,” said Snips. “I made it myself.”
“Hey, I helped!” said Snails, scowling.
They walked into a brightly lit observation room beyond the steel blast door. A thick pane of glass and a second, smaller door stood between them and a dark chamber. The rest of the chamber was thirty by thirty meters square, and had solid concrete floor, roof, and walls. In each corner of the chamber, a tall, metallic pole sticking up, glowing blue with magic. In the center of the room sat a single buffalo, sitting on the floor and gazing off into space forlornly.
“Prepare security protocol,” said Stekton.
Snails ran over and pressed a button on a console in the observation room. A green, circular light atop the second door turned red, and the second door swung open. Meanwhile, the first door leading back into the hallway closed shut again.
“After you, Great and Powerful Trixie,” said Snails, bowing and motioning with her hoof.
Trixie and Stekton walked through the second door through the observation room and into the chamber.
Stekton turned to Trixie. “This is Subject 7.”
“No, my name is Wolverine Spirit!” he croaked, turning around and frowning. He stood up to his hooves before collapsing once more.
Trixie’s eyebrows raised. Not at the buffalo’s insolence, but his appearance. His eyes were bright red, almost glowing. Both of his horns were charred and blackened at the ends. He was much thinner than he was when he had come in just a few months ago with the other volunteers. His once-bulky sides were shriveled, and his ribcage was visible.
But the thing that struck Trixie the most about him was the metallic, backpack-looking device on his back. Black tubes connected from the device up to his horns, where they melded in. Yellow and green wires extended from the sides and into his skin, where they dug under and intertwined with red and blue veins. Atop the device, a single, long, thin metal rod stood up.
“He’s a beaut’!” said Snails as Trixie’s jaw hung open in shock.
Stekton pointed towards the device on his back. “The biomechanical field generator, or BFG, is an electronic device which sits on his back and is magically fused into his spinal column and bloodstream in order to harness arcane energies from the air and his body and channel them into his horns. As you see, continued use does have some minor side effects, such as fatigue, weight loss—”
The buffalo cut in, “And hearing loss! The ringing in my ears is unbear—”
Snips tapped his hoof on the ground and the buffalo quieted down.
Stekton continued, “—but the effects are tremendous, as he will demonstrate. Subject 7, you are to show your abilities to the minister. She and I will return to the observation chamber, and I will lower the magic suppression field. Then, you will cast your spell on the wooden target on the wall behind you. Snips and Snails will remain in the room to ensure that you don’t try any funny business again.”
Wolverine Spirit’s eyes widened as he backed up, until the chains that bound him to the floor caught and he fell to his back.
“I do not think I can do it again…” he whimpered. “Please… don’t make me…”
Stekton shook his head. “And please do not make me commence negative reinforcement once again,” said the scientist coldly.
“Yeah,” said Snails. “What he said!”
The buffalo jumped up to his hooves and nodded. Whatever the ‘negative reinforcement’ was, he quite clearly didn’t want to be subjected to it again.
Doctor Stekton and Trixie returned to the observation chamber, and Stekton pressed a giant red button on the terminal in front of him. An alarm blared, and the four towering metallic beams in the corners slowly descended down into the concrete.
He leaned into the microphone and spoke. His voice boomed in the chamber. “The magic suppression field is down, Subject Seven. Proceed with the display.”
Stekton flipped a light switch, and the flourescent lights in the room dimmed as the chamber was submerged in blackness, with the exception of a faint glow from Snails’ horn, and the light that shone in from observation booth.
Trixie raised an eyebrow. “Why is it dark? We won’t be able to see the demonstration.”
Doctor Stekton said, “He looks better with the lights off. Just watch.”
Trixie gazed into the pitch darkness. Suddenly, the buffalo and the ground around him were illuminated white as the rod device on his back started to glow.
“What is…” Trixie started.
Suddenly, there was a tremendous boom and a flash as a lightning bolt struck the buffalo’s back. Trixie jumped.
“Oh my,” she said.
Stekton sighed. “That wasn’t the full effect. He normally channels it through his horns as well, using them to direct it at the target in front of him. I don’t know what his problem is.”
Stekton leaned in towards the microphone, and said, “Subject Seven! That was not an adequate demonstration! Again, at once!”
Trixie and Stekton waited for thirty more seconds, but with no response. He groaned as he reached over and turned on the lights.
The buffalo lie motionless on the floor. Stekton gasped, and pressed the button to raise the magic suppression field once more. He ran through the door and checked Wolverine Spirit’s pulse.
“He’s dead!” Stekton cried.
“No!” cried Snails. “Months of work, down the drain!”
Trixie raised an eyebrow. “Dead? Did he kill himself?” she asked.
Stekton shrugged, walking back to the observation booth. “Maybe. Or maybe he forgot to channel it and direct it at the target, so it hit him on accident. Or maybe he died from exhaustion. As judging by his gaunt stature and exhaustion, using this spell is quite magically and physically taxing, and I’ve had him do it many times a day.”
“He’s normally great at it,” said Snails. “I dunno what happened this time.”
Stekton continued, “We’ve been analyzing the lightning spell to research possible ways that a unicorn could cast this spell—after all, that is our ultimate job—but no luck with that thus far. The only way a unicorn can cast the spell is if the unicorn also wears the biomechanical force generator, which weighs hundreds of kilograms, quite cumbersome and large for a unicorn. Not so much for a buffalo.”
“Well, then I suppose that the important question is, can we get other buffalo who would be able to use the BFG and cast the lightning spell?” asked Trixie.
Stekton smiled and nodded. “That’s the good news. The buffalo already use a mild form of weather magic with their rain dances. This is just that on a much grander, more direct scale. Subject Seven didn’t have any magical experience before he volunteered. Give us another month, and we can equip and train a dozen buffalo ‘shock troops.’ Three months, and we can make a hundred.”
“Perfect, that’s just in time for the apple harvests in Dodge Junction! Will the side effects be noticeable immediately?” asked Trixie.
Stekton nodded. “They are slow acting. I assume that you will conceal the side effects, yes?”
Trixie chuckled, waving her hoof. “Of course. They don’t need to know. I’ll just tell that superstitious, hoof-dragging buffalo chief that their weather spirits would want them to do it or something. Why dance for rain when you can summon lightning itself?”
“Though outdated and unscientific, their religious belief serves our purpose well,” said Stekton, nodding. “And by the time the buffalo realize the generators’ deleterious health effects, we’ll have already won Appleloosa.”
Trixie smiled. “I’ll go see Chief Thunderhooves and find out if there are any volunteers to become living lightning rods. If not, I’m sure that he can force some of them to do it.”
Snips and Snails smiled. Trixie turned to them.
“I suppose that I underestimated you two.”
Appleloosa, October 2024
On an overcast morning, in a schoolroom at the small schoolhouse in Appleloosa, about two dozen fillies and colts filed into class, taking their seats. Pound and Pumpkin sat together in the back of the class.
At first, it had been somewhat of a fight to get the schoolhouse to accept them as students, but the sheriff insisted that the members of his militia be educated. The principal, a rather prejudiced old bat, refused. She was backed up by a small majority of the members of the parent-teacher association. That was, until the sheriff pointed out to her that Equestrian law required basic education for all fillies and colts up to the age of sixteen. If a local district refused to educate all children residing in its district, it would be denied the central government’s funding. The sheriff even got a signed letter from Princess Twilight to prove it.
That got the principal’s attention, and she agreed to educate the twins. But before accepting them into the main school, she tried to set up a separate school for non earth-ponies. That idea quickly fell apart after she and the PTA realized that it would cost far more to hire teachers just for two students. So, rather reluctantly, the principal instructed the teachers at Appleloosa Primary School to accept the Cake twins into their classes.
But then there had been the question of what grade to put them in. Though Pound had attended schools in Cloudsdale and Mareicopa after he left Ponyville, Pumpkin had not attended school since she left Ponyville. The last time that Pumpkin had been in a proper school, she was ten. Between then and when she moved to Appleloosa, she had been homeschooled by Zecora. So she and Pound were worried that she’d end up in a lower grade. However, after she took a few placement tests, the school board determined that Zecora’s teaching had been adequate. Pumpkin was placed in eighth grade along with her brother.
Miss Applethorpe, a mare about Twilight’s age, didn’t seem to mind the two non-earth ponies in her classes, being as strict on the Cakes as she was on every other student. Which meant that if they disobeyed or misbehaved, they’d get a paddling or get sat in the corner with a dunce cap, just like anypony else. Thankfully for her, the Cakes had simmered down in their teenage years, and had a lot fewer behavior problems than when they had been younger.
Back in September when the twins had entered school, they had initially been worried about bullies, but that proved to be entirely unfounded. Their classmates, not used to seeing non-earth ponies, were more fascinated by the twins than prejudiced towards them, seeing them as a novelty. In fact, they often asked Pound Cake to pick them up and take them flying around the schoolyard after class. Pumpkin became the go-to for magic, and they would often ask her to teleport them someplace or enchant something for them.
Applethorpe stood up at the desk as class began, narrowing her eyes as her students lowered their voices and class began. She turned to the blackboard and spoke as she wrote with chalk.
“Alright, class, today we’re gonna be discussing linear functions. Now, a linear function, modeled by y=ax+b, is one in which—”
She was interrupted by a booming megaphone in the streets below. “Attention, Appleloosa residents. All members of the ASDF are required to report to Sheriff Silverstar’s office at once for general mobilization! This is not a drill!”
Pound and Pumpkin glanced at each other. Pumpkin’s horn lit up as her book closed and floated into her backpack. Pound started packing up as well.
Applethorpe swiveled around and tapped her hoof on the floor. “And just where do y’all think you’re going?”
“We’re members of the militia,” said Pumpkin.
“Yeah, we’re gonna report to duty,” said Pound.
“Oh, no, you’re not,” said Miss Applethorpe. “Not without a valid and signed excused absence. Now sit back down.”
Pound turned to Pumpkin. She shrugged. They both sat back down. The lesson continued for about ten minutes.
“Now, the ‘b’ in this equation is the y-intercept. This is where the line meets the—”
The door swung open, interrupting Miss Applethorpe once more. A rather perturbed Sheriff Silverstar stepped in, glaring at the Cake twins.
“Didn’t y’all hear the announcement on the town P.A.?” he asked. “I swear, if I hafta go around and round up every militia member…”
“Sheriff Silverstar!” Miss Applethorpe exclaimed. “I will not excuse any student from this class without a valid, signed, excused absence form!”
The sheriff sighed, reached into his vest, and pulled out a paper ticket that he normally used to write citations to lawbreakers. He turned it over and wrote on the back.
EXCUSAL OF ASBENCE FOR CAKES -SHERIF SILVERSTAR
He gave it to the teacher. She snickered.“‘Asbence?’ I’m disappointed. You really gotta learn to spell correctly, Sheriff-with-two-f’s Silverstar,” she said.
The sheriff frowned. “Well y’all at this here schoolhouse are the ones what shoulda taught me spellin’ years ago when I was a colt, so that’s on you,” he quipped. “Now come on, kids, let’s go.”
Pound and Pumpkin packed up their packs and proceeded with the sheriff.
The few dozen militiaponies all stood around the front of the sheriff’s office, muttering and conversing with one another. Pound and Pumpkin were in the crowd, and were just as clueless as the others.
“Where’s the threat?” Applejack asked, looking around. “I don’t see no Second Kingdom troops. Just a buncha confused earth ponies.”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.
“Maybe it’s not not a drill,” said Pound Cake, shrugging. Pumpkin turned to him and raised her eyebrow. He clarified, “So, actually, it’s just a drill after all.”
Pumpkin Cake chuckled. “That would kinda defeat the point of them saying that it’s not a drill,” she said.
“You’re right,” said Pound. “Then the next time, if something actually went wrong, they’d have to say that it’s not a ‘not a drill’ drill, so that ponies would know that it really really isn’t a drill.”
“This ain’t no stinkin’ drill!”
The Apples and Cakes turned to see Sheriff Silverstar standing on the front porch of the sheriff’s office, as he shouted to address the crowd outside.
“Little Strongheart here has an urgent message for us all!” he said. He stepped aside as the young buffalo stood up and spoke.
“Greetings, Appleloosa. I have been watching Trixie and Chief Thunderhooves, studying their moves very closely. I believe that they will attempt an invasion of Appleloosa within the next twenty-four hours, likely sometime tonight.”
Everypony in the crowd gasped, muttering amongst themselves in anxious tones.
“Now, I do not know how this invasion will come. I know it will come from the west, but I don’t know who is involved,” Little Strongheart continued. “All I know is that, a few months ago, Chief Thunderhooves took several volunteers from our tribe to join the Second Kingdom’s army. Other volunteers have signed up since then. Also, some buffalo have been disappearing from our reservation. Most of them are peaceful bulls who never would harm a fly, even if the chief ordered them to. We wake up one morning and find one gone. Then a week will pass, and another will be gone, and the cycle goes on. We do not know if they have run away, or if they have been taken, or if they have been killed. The chief never comments on their absence, as if they never existed. Some of them may have been forcefully disappeared for speaking out against the war.
“The Chief and the elders have been beating the war drums. They speak of war with Appleloosa any day. This afternoon, the chief told me that I should find someplace else to live for a while, someplace out west where the Second Kingdom controls. That if I didn’t leave today, I would be in grave danger. He gave me my belongings and told me to leave, and come back in a month. I got the message. The buffalo are planning to invade tomorrow.”
The crowd fell silent.
“Alright, gang, y’all heard her,” said Sheriff Silverstar. “I want y’all to take up defensive positions all along the town, inside of the clock tower, on the rooftops, in the apple orchards on the outskirts. Just like our trainin’ we did. Focus on the west of the town, since that’s the way to Mareicopa, which they control. If there’s an invasion, I’d bet my eyes to a dollar that it’d be from thataway.”
The militia ponies all saluted and walked off to their positions.
“Pound Cake,” he addressed the pegasus. Pound looked up. “Meet me in my office.”
“What about me?” asked Pumpkin.
The sheriff shook his head. “Nope. Just your brother. You go take up your position like we talked about.”
She nodded and walked off. Pound flew over to the door and walked into the Sheriff’s office with Little Strongheart. The sheriff closed the door behind him and sat down at his desk. The three of them were now alone.
“What’s up?” asked Pound Cake.
“Pound Cake,” said Little Strongheart. “For the past month, I have seen many trains on the tracks that run through our reservation. They have few cars, and they all have bars on the windows. The trains come and go, but always turn back before they get to Appleloosa, though several have stopped near our teepees. There are also boxcars. Chief Thunderhooves has ridden in several of these trains. Though I do not know for certain, I believe that the army will be transported here by train to conceal their movements. This invasion is supposed to be a sneak attack, and if I hadn’t ran here to warn you, you would be off-guard. They do not know that you know about it, so they’ll still be using the train.”
“Now here’s what I want you to do, Pound,” said Sheriff Silverstar. “I want you to fly out over the train tracks. Get a pegasus’ eye view of the railroad.”
He handed Pound a pair of binoculars.
“If you see a train, and you can tell that it’s an invadin’ force from the Second Kingdom, I want you to derail it.”
He handed Pound Cake a stick of dynamite and a matchbook.
“Sounds good,” said Pound Cake. “Can Pumpkin come with me? We kinda work as a team. She won’t slow me down or anything. In fact, she could help if I get shot at.”
The sheriff shook his head. “You can do this yourself, Pound Cake, I’m sure’a it. Besides, that intangawhatsit spell of Pumpkin’s might come in handy here at the town in the event that they do decide to invade by hoof, or if you fail and they get here before you get back,” said the sheriff.
“Okay, I guess that makes sense,” said Pound Cake. “I’ll follow the train track west until I see a train.”
Little Strongheart gave Pound Cake a hug. “Stay safe, Pound Cake.”
Sheriff Silverstar said, “Fly safe, and good luck. We’re all countin' on you.”
Pound Cake nodded, walked out the door, and took off into the afternoon sky.
Pound Cake soared west, high in the midday sky, keeping hidden behind as many clouds as he could without looking suspicious. He followed the path of the train tracks below. It was mostly a clear day, so an observant pony could probably look up and see him between the many gaps in the cloud cover. But hopefully they would just assume that he was an ordinary pegasus civilian just flying. After all, the Cloud Confederacy was off to the west. It would be an easy assumption to make.
He gazed down at the rolling landscape. The rock formations and canyons were breathtakingly gorgeous, with brilliant red, brown, and orange hues. The wind-swept crags oscillated like waves washing over the desert.
The teepees of the various buffalo herds and tribes were scattered around. He could see some of the children playing, and the adults out grazing in the desert grass and shrubs. It was hard for him to believe that this land was being consumed by the fires of war and hatred.
Even within Pound Cake’s young life, there had been a time when all races of hoofed beings on the continent had lived together in peace. Unicorn, pegasus, earth pony, buffalo, cow, donkey, even changeling: all had once been friends.
Was this war unavoidable? Or could we have stopped it before it happened? he wondered as the wind whipped his mane and he soared high on a thermal column.
Pound looked off in the distance, and he could see the skyscrapers of Mareicopa. It was the shining jewel of the desert, an oasis in the land of the lacking. Until a couple of years ago when the Second Kingdom had captured it, it had been one of Equestria’s largest and richest cities. Unlike the old shacks which were commonplace in Appleloosa, everypony in Mareicopa had a swimming pool, and nice homes made of brick, stucco and mortar. Only Canterlot and Manehattan rivaled its decadence.
Then Pound looked down below at the teepees of the buffalo. Every buffalo lived day to day on subsistence, doing rain dances and other incantations in vain to try to hope that the capricious weather would give them what they needed to survive. Unlike the pegasi, they couldn’t fly up to change the weather; they just had to hope their dances worked. They often didn’t. The buffalo were all nomads, moving from camp to camp to find new grazing grounds.
The buffalo must have felt great envy, gazing across the plains at the shining city which had been constructed on their tribe’s former land. Though Pound disagreed with the buffalo making war against Equestria, he could certainly see how they would have a grievance against Equestria and see the Second Kingdom as saviors. They were promised as much. But he doubted that the unicorns would give it to them.
Perhaps this war is avoidable, he thought. Perhaps all of them were. If ponies had nothing to fight over, no greed, no racism, then there would be peace. There would have to be. If the ponies in places like Mareicopa, places like Appleloosa, and places like the Cloud Confederacy and the Buffalo nation could all just live together in common, mingle with each other rather than living in their own cities, and share what they had instead of taking and hoarding, there would be peace, he thought.
But instead, leaders like President Lightning Dust in Cloudsdale, King Blueblood in the Second Kingdom, and Chief Thunderhooves in the Buffalo Nation drove their populations to secession, mistrust, and war against each other for their own selfish ends. Even Princess Twilight and Princess Celestia before her weren’t entirely perfect, because they were too weak and didn’t do enough to prevent the once-united Equestria from dissolving, thought Pound Cake.
Pound Cake’s thoughts were distracted as he heard a squealing train whistle. He gazed below him and saw a steam train on the railroad. It was the third one that he had seen all day, and it stretched for dozens and dozens of cars.
Hopefully it isn’t just another regular passenger train, he thought. Even with the war, civilian trains often commuted between Mareicopa and Dodge Junction, though the once-voluminous stream of freight and passengers had slowed to a trickle given the Second Kingdom’s restrictive pass laws and Equestria’s broad-sweeping trade embargoes against unicorn-controlled areas. Despite their leaders’ wishes, Pound guessed that most citizens of and the captured areas of the Second Kingdom still wished for peace. Maybe that wish could become a reality.
As he had done on a few occasions before during his excursion, he descended towards the earth, careful to keep his distance until he reached the ground. He landed, and then continued on hoof towards the track. Once he was at a good distance, he crouched behind a bush to obscure himself, and he retrieved the pair of binoculars from his neck. The steam locomotive was painted navy blue and had the yellow letters MDJ written on the side.
The Mareicopa-Dodge Junction line, he thought. With an invasion force of buffalo coming from the direction of Mareicopa, that would make sense. At the speed the train was moving, it would arrive at Appleloosa at night, a perfect cover for a sneak attack .
He turned his binoculars towards the passenger cars being pulled by the locomotive. Though the windows were foggy and had bars on them, he could still make out the passengers. There were several unicorns inside, along with many buffalo. They were playing cards, chatting, and smoking, enjoying some final leisure time before the upcoming battle.
More cars passed, three of them windowless boxcars. Pound had no idea what was in them. Maybe artillery pieces, or food, or munitions. Probably a mixture of all three.
“Alright. Time to derail it,” said Pound. He flew straight up into the air, flying towards the train.
However, he heard a sound from inside of one of the boxcars. Despite the clicking and clacking of the train and the chugging of the locomotive, the sound was unmistakable, as was its source. Somepony was shouting.
“Why on earth is there anyone inside of those boxcars?” he asked himself. It made no sense.
The unicorns and buffalo were all in the passenger cars with windows. Did they run out of room? He glanced back at the passenger cars, doing a quick headcount. They definitely had room to move around comfortably in there. If the Second Kingdom was short of cars, they couldn’t just pack more into their existing passenger cars? Why did they need boxcars on this train?
He heard more shouting. He couldn’t quite tell what was being said, but it certainly wasn’t a lively game of poker.
His curiosity getting the better of him, Pound got out of the bushes, flying over to the boxcars. He wasn’t afraid of being seen anymore, now that the passenger cars with windows had passed. Unless somepony in one of the passenger cars was craning his neck, they wouldn’t see Pound. Even if someone did see him and started firing, he could certainly dodge bullets.
Keeping pace with the quickly-moving train, Pound positioned himself about a meter from the side of the boxcar, trying to make out words. The shouting continued.
“—Kill your whole family!”
Pound’s heart leapt in his chest.
“Duty… buffalo race! ...traitors right here and now!”
He heard a single gunshot, and then gasping.
Pound shook his head. There was no mistaking it. He took off higher into the air, until he was about ten meters above the train. The buffalo who Little Strongheart had said disappeared weren’t dead at all. On the contrary, they had been conscripted into the Second Kingdom army and were being forced to serve Blueblood. Any buffalo who refused was shot, and their families would be shot.
Now he realized why there were boxcars and passenger cars. The buffalo who volunteered themselves to fight got first class seating and respect from their unicorn peers. The reluctant draftees who didn’t volunteer were packed like sardines into dark boxcars under gunpoint, given no hope, no choice but to fight.
Pound glanced at the dynamite stick in his saddlebag. Could he really blow up the train in good conscience, when it contained who knew how many innocent buffalo who had no other choice but to fight? Would Little Strongheart forgive him for killing her people?
No. He had to free them.
Pound Cake rushed back down to the train, glancing at the boxcar door. He would wrench it open, take the guards by surprise, and free the captive buffalo. He put his hooves to the handle, trying to wrench the door, but couldn’t. It was locked from the inside. All he had was a stick of dynamite. He didn’t have any bolt cutters or anything else he could use to pry open the door. There was no way for him to get inside.
Robins tweeted in the trees at the apple acres outside of the town of Appleloosa. The sun had already begun its slow descent towards the western horizon. A group of stallions were positioned near the roadside, hidden among the trees, concealed by its branches.
Pound Cake rushed down the road, flying as the dust scattered after him and hung in the air. He came to a stop at the middle of the road, gazing out at the farmhouses and the trees which surrounded them.
“The coast is clear, you guys,” he shouted. “Pumpkin, where are you?”
Pumpkin Cake emerged from behind one of the tree branches, teleporting out towards the road. She frowned.
“Pound! You’re going to blow our cover if you aren’t careful,” she chided him.
He shrugged. “I said the coast was clear. Look, they’re coming by train. Your positions are totally worthless anyway. Hide by the railroad.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? They aren’t using the regular, dirt roads?”
He shook his head. “Nope. We didn’t know for sure, but Little Strongheart and Sheriff Silverstar just had me fly a recon mission to confirm. They’re invading by railroad.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Hmm, well I guess that makes sense. Railroad is a lot quicker to transport troops than having them walk. And if they’re trying to take us by surprise, a train is the perfect cover. It’s probably disguised as a passenger train, huh?”
“Yeah,” said Pound.
“Well, we’d better derail it,” said Pumpkin. “That’ll put a damper on their plans, huh?”
Pound shook his head. He grabbed the stick of dynamite from his bag. “I was already sent to derail it. I didn’t.”
Pumpkin’s eyes widened. “Why not?”
“Because,” Pound Cake sighed, “not everypony on that train is there willingly.”
Pumpkin raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? That they were conscripted? Yeah, Little Strongheart told us that there was a draft. That happens in a war, Pound; you know that. I’m sure all of Canterlot’s young unicorn stallions can be drafted. But it’s us or them, like you said after the armory—”
Pound shook his head, interrupting her. “No, not like that. It’s different from a draft. Remember those buffalo who Little Strongheart said disappeared from her camp during the night? How a lot of them were totally peaceful?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, they were kidnapped, and put onto the train, and told that if they didn’t fight, their families would be killed. I heard one of the unicorns inside the train shoot a buffalo. I don’t know why, but I guess that he was trying to put up a fight. If I derailed the train with all those buffalo still on it, then innocents could die. The train is going like forty or fifty miles an hour. They might not survive if it derails.”
“I see,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“So I need you to come with me and help free them, Pumpkin. Then, we’ll derail the train.”
Pumpkin Cake nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute!”
Pumpkin turned around to see one of the stallions in her squad, who was wearing a cactus disguise, walk out into the road.
“Where are y’all goin’? There’s gonna be an invasion and we need all the troops we can get!”
Pound said, “They won’t be here for a few more hours. We’ll be back by then.”
“We’re about to derail the invasion. Just hang tight,” Pumpkin added.
With that, Pound Cake picked up Pumpkin and they flew off into the afternoon sky.
Pound Cake soared through the air, the wind whipping his mane as he raced west towards the train. He carried Pumpkin in his front hooves.
Pound slowed down until he could hear himself talk.
He said, “I’m gonna take it easy for a mile or so. I’ll fly at a slower pace to catch my breath.”
“Okay,” said Pumpkin.
A few seconds later, Pound said, “I just don’t understand how this train could slip by without any Equestrian troops catching it. I mean, Appleloosa and most of the area west of it is still technically Equestrian territory. Aren’t there any other pegasi flying around besides me? Maybe some Equestrian scouts or troops?”
Pumpkin Cake glanced up at her brother.
She laughed. “Well, isn’t it obvious? Princess Twilight, all her advisors in Manehattan: they’ve abandoned us! Equestrian troops aren’t going to fight for some small desert town out in the middle of nowhere. No, they’re going to put all of their troops by the main cities, like Dodge Junction, Fillydelphia, or Tall Tale. Why would they waste their time fighting for Appleloosa?”
Pound didn’t answer the question.
“They wouldn’t,” Pumpkin answered her own question. “They wouldn’t even give us any weapons. They haven’t even sent us a single soldier. They’re too busy defending their major cities. We had to go with some do-it-yourself, ragtag militia. They’ve left us to fend for ourselves. Manehattan has no problem throwing Appleloosa to the wolves, just like they were going to blow up that barn full of unicorn children until the papers leaked it.”
“Well, what else are they supposed to do?” asked Pound Cake. “They have to protect as many ponies that they can. That means the big cities, not the small towns. Sometimes they have to make decisions for the good of the larger group at the expense of a smaller group.”
“Funny how I always somehow end up in the smaller group,” Pumpkin scoffed, frowning. “Someday, their strategy is going to backfire on them.”
Pound glanced north towards Cloudsdale. He chuckled. “I think it already has.”
Pound sped back up. Both twins remained silent for several minutes, until the train became visible over the horizon.
“Do you have your weapon loaded and ready?” Pumpkin asked her brother.
He nodded, motioning towards the assault rifle slung over his back. The stick of dynamite was in a saddlebag, along with the binoculars. Pumpkin only carried an assault rifle.
Soon, they reached the train. It sped past, merely a few hundred kilometers from Appleloosa. It would be on the town’s doorstep before nightfall.
“Alright,” said Pumpkin Cake, eyeing the train. “Let’s land on the top of one of those boxcars. The very back one, right in front of the caboose.”
Pound nodded, and flew in closer. They landed atop the boxcar, with Pound fluttering his wings for as soft a landing as possible. They didn’t want their hooves on the top of the car to make too much noise.
Pound released Pumpkin and they both stood on the train. She took a deep breath, and her brother eyed her expectantly.
“Okay,” she said. “Here goes.”
Her horn turned blue, as did a segment of the top of the boxcar. She gulped and quickly stuck her head in through the hole, eyeing the inside of the car.
It was pitch dark except for the lights coming from the horns of one of the unicorn guards who stood in front. There were three of them, each levitating assault rifles, trained on a crowd of buffalo who were huddled together in masses. She saw metallic things on their backs, but couldn’t identify them specifically.
Suddenly, the soldier made eye contact with her. She pulled her head up and glanced at her brother, her pupils dilated.
“He saw me!”
“Oh no,” said Pound. “What do you want to do?”
They heard excited muttering in the boxcar below.
“There’s three guards standing towards the front of the car,” said Pumpkin, pointing east. “We need to take them out first. But how will we do that when he saw me—”
“I got an idea,” said Pound. “Follow me.”
He glided across the train car, landing on the front, and Pumpkin galloped after him.
“Here!” Pound shouted, pointing to the roof of the boxcar, right above where the guards stood.
Pumpkin objected. “But…”
“Just trust me!”
Pumpkin’s horn lit up, and the ceiling turned intangible. Pound Cake dropped down, and the sound of machine gunfire echoed in the boxcar. Pumpkin gritted her teeth, unable to see what was going on.
Pound Cake flew through the dark boxcar, slamming his front hooves into each of the confused guards before they could even react. He took the first two down, and he slammed into the side of a third just as he drew up his rifle. The guard fell to the floor, firing off a volley as he fell, which missed Pound but hit the side of the car.
Pumpkin Cake, fearing her brother was in trouble, galloped back to the rear of the boxcar. She jumped through the roof and landed at the rear, next to the buffalo. They glanced at her confusedly. She lit up her horn, illuminating the boxcar, and saw that Pound had taken out all of the guards, who lay unconscious on the floor.
“I heard gunfire!” she shouted.
“They were too slow,” he said, grinning. “They missed me.”
A buffalo in the crowd groaned. Pumpkin walked over to him and saw that he had been hit in the hoof.
“It was a ricochet,” the buffalo said, wincing in pain as blood spurted from it.
“We’ll get you to a doctor,” said Pumpkin Cake. Then, she turned to the rest of the buffalo.
“Listen, everybody. We’re here to rescue you.”
“Pound and Pumpkin Cake,” said one of the buffalo, named Prairiewind. The Twins recognized him from when they gave the speech to Chief Thunderhooves’ tribe. “Look what they have done to us.”
He pointed towards the mechanical, magical contraption on his back, and to the rest of the buffalo, who had the same contraptions.
“What on earth…” Pound started.
“They’re weapons,” said Prairiewind “They shoot lightning bolts. The unicorns outfitted us with them and told us that they’d kill our families if we didn’t fight Appleloosa. We are peaceful buffalo, but we didn’t want our families to die.”
“It’s okay,” said Pumpkin, shaking her head. “I can’t believe they did that. But listen, we all have to jump out of here. Pound and I are going to derail this train, and you don’t want to be on it when we do.”
Prairiewind and the rest of the buffalo nodded. Pumpkin Cake walked over to the door, turned the lock intangible, and opened the door. The boxcar filled with gusts, buffeting the buffalo and the Cakes as it turned into a virtual wind tunnel.
“That does not look safe,” said Prairiewind. “You want us to jump out?”
Pound Cake nodded. “It’s either that, or you get thrown up against the side of a metal boxcar when it derails at fifty miles an hour and rolls, and crack your skull. Your choice.”
Prairiewind raised an eyebrow. “Pumpkin Cake. Can you not use your spell on us, the one which you used just now to get in here? Perhaps, you could use it on us to remove the blow with the ground?”
She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m really sorry, you guys. I need to conserve my energy. There’s two more cars to free, and it’s hard to cast.”
Prairiewind nodded. “Okay. I will be the first to jump.”
“Try to time your jump so that you don’t hit a rock or cactus,” said Pound. “Remember that you’ll be hitting whatever is directly in front of you, since you’ll still be moving the same speed as the train when you hit the ground. So don’t jump when there’s something in front of you. Also, try to roll when you hit the ground, to soften the impact.”
Pumpkin Cake glanced at her brother quizzically.
He chuckled. “Hey, I’ve had to bail a few times when I’ve been flying. You learn pretty quick.”
Prairiewind glanced out the train car, looking at what was in front of him. Then, he took a deep breath as his hooves left the ground. He jumped, hitting the ground and rolling. Pound and Pumpkin Cake glanced behind them, as the train had now passed where he had landed. He stood still for a few moments, but then they saw him stand up and wave his hoof.
“He’s okay!” Pound Cake shouted to the rest of the buffalo. They all smiled and breathed sighs of relief.
“If he can do it, so can you!” said Pumpkin Cake.
The next buffalo volunteer to jump walked up to the boxcar door, doing the same thing that Prairiewind had done. They started to line up, each taking about thirty seconds to prepare for the jump and summon up the courage before finally making the leap.
When the car had dwindled to a dozen buffalo right after another one had just jumped, however, there was machine gun fire.
“Aaaah!” the buffalo on the ground screamed. Pound poked his head out. Soldiers from the boxcar ahead of them were firing at the buffalo on the ground. One of them shouted as he saw Pound, and turned his rifle towards him just as he pulled his head back inside of the boxcar.
“They’ve found us out!” Pound shouted.
“Oh no!” Pumpkin exclaimed. “I wonder if they’ve alerted the rest of the train?”
“They have radios inside of their boxcars,” one of the remaining buffalo said. “If those unicorns are shooting at you, they have probably radioed the rest of the train as well.”
Pumpkin turned her head sideways. “Why haven’t they stopped the train yet?”
“They probably don’t expect us to get to the other cars,” said Pound. “That or they think it’s a mutiny. Who knows. But we need to act quick. You buffalo, keep jumping. Pumpkin, we’re going to take all the guards out at once, together.”
Her jaw gaped open. “Are you crazy? All at once? How?”
“Hold onto me, and use your intangibility spell on both of us, right when I tell you. Then turn it off, right when I tell you. Come on.”
Pound grabbed Pumpkin by the front hooves before she even had time to protest. He took off and started flying right towards the front wall of the boxcar.
“Now!” Pound shouted.
Without time to even think, Pumpkin turned on the spell and they sailed through the front wall of the first boxcar, and right through the back wall of the second. Pound flew straight towards the guards, who were firing out the side of the train.
Right before he was about to hit them, he yelled “Now!”
Pumpkin, hesitant to turn off her intangibility spell and leave herself and her brother exposed, did so regardless. Pound held onto his sister with a single hoof and extended the other out in front of himself, punching the three guards with his momentum, and they flew out the open door of the boxcar.
Pound hovered in the air for a moment, turning to face the captive buffalo in this car.
“Jump out the door; we’re derailing this train in ten minutes!” he shouted. “Roll into the ground, and look out for what’s in front of you since you’ll be moving fast! No time to dally, onto the next car, Pumpkin, NOW!”
Pumpkin didn’t need to be told. Just as Pound finished his brief crash course in jumping out of a moving boxcar, he had already started zooming headfirst into the wall of the second boxcar. Pumpkin turned on the spell just in time and they sailed through, their momentum carrying them forward.
This train car was still sealed, the unicorns not bothering to open up the door. However, one of the three unicorns in front had his horn lit up, so they could still see what they were doing. If he had looked, he could have seen two young ponies flying straight through the bodies of the captive buffalo fighters and towards him. By the time he blinked, it was too late.
By this point, Pumpkin had started to get the rhythm of the plan, and she and her brother resolidified as he punched the middle soldier square in the center of his mass, knocking him into his comrades like a bowling pin. They all slammed against the back door of the boxcar as Pound came to a stop. One of them levitated his assault rifle from behind him.
Pumpkin grabbed her own gun before he could react, and shot him three times in the chest. He fell back to the floor.
“Woah, good save,” said Pound Cake. “Sorry about that. I thought that I was flying fast enough to knock them out.”
Pumpkin shrugged. “It happens.”
“Alright, everypo—buffalo,” said Pound Cake. “Jump out of this door. We’re derailing the train in about seven minutes or so, so you’d better jump out if you don’t want to be thrown around and knocked against the steel walls. I know that I, personally, would rather jump, but it’s your call.”
Pumpkin Cake opened the door as Pound explained the proper jumping procedure for the buffalo.
“Thank you so much for saving us, Pound and Pumpkin,” said one of the buffalo.
“If only Chief Thunderhooves had listened to your impassioned pleas for peace,” said another.
They all jumped out one by one. Once the last buffalo had landed ten minutes later, Pound Cake glanced out the door and looked ahead. From the position of the sun in the sky, and from the terrain, he judged that they were about a hundred kilometers from Appleloosa.
“Alright,” said Pound. “It’s now or never. Pumpkin Cake, let’s go derail the train.”
She nodded. “Pick me up and let’s do it.”
Pound picked her up and they flew towards the front of the train.
Trixie Lulamoon sat in the furthest-forward train car, right behind the locomotive. She levitated a copy of Popular Pony Science in her magic, turning the pages as she read about the latest scientific and magical discoveries.
“Waiter!” she called. A tan unicorn stallion with a mustache appeared. “Please give me another Manehattan Ice Tea.”
“Right away, madmoiselle,” he said in a fancy accent, and scurried along towards the wet bar.
Trixie didn’t normally accompany the military on their campaigns. After all, her official job was as the magical research minister of the Second Kingdom. Her discoveries went towards fueling the war effort, but she wasn’t part of fighting the war itself.
However, for this particular battle, she felt that she should be present. It was she who had so persuasively convinced the buffalo chief to join her side.
“Today is the dawning of a new era, Trixie Lulamoon,” said Chief Thunderhooves, who sat next to her, drinking something a bit stronger.
The waiter returned with a drink.
“A toast to our eternal friendship,” said Trixie, levitating the glass in front of her. The chief grabbed his glass with his hoof and they clinked them together.
“And a toast to both of our nations being oppressed no longer,” said Chief Thunderhooves.
Suddenly, there was an explosion right in front of them. The train shook and rattled as it swayed on the tracks.
“Eet eez going to derail! Sacre bleu!” the waiter called out. “Madmoiselle, jump out ze window!”
Chief Thunderhooves raised an eyebrow as Trixie reached over to the window, opened it, and glanced at the ground below, just as the train rocked from side to side.
It’s times like these I really wish I could teleport, she thought. She took a deep breath and jumped from the train.
“Aaaah!” Chief Thunderhooves yelled, too big to fit through the windows. The train swayed to the right, not swaying back this time, but rather falling off the tracks and onto the dirt beside it. Dirt flew into the air as the heavy cars hit the ground, sliding and detaching from one another. The train rolled twice, each time throwing ponies out the windows and around the car.
Trixie hit the ground hard, landing on her hooves, which cracked and buckled as a sharp pain shot up her right hind leg. She glanced at it. It wasn’t supposed to bend like that.
She winced in pain, gritting her teeth as she glanced at the locomotive and saw a that it was on fire, a giant hole where its smokestack once was. Trains didn’t just explode like that. Trixie glanced up in the sky.
Just above the train, about twenty meters high, she saw two ponies hooting and hollering at the disaster. One was a dark-maned, cream-coated pegasus, a rambunctious young stallion who yelped and hollered. The other was a bit more passive, simply grinning from ear to ear and only slightly celebrating.
She was a unicorn with a tangerine mane and a light saffron coat. Trixie could see her very clearly from here.
Trixie scowled. That unicorn was the one who had humiliated Trixie by escaping from Sweet Apple Acres, who had humiliated General Top brass in the Everfree with her little “ghost” stunt. She was the one who broke into the armory recently and stole many weapons. She was the one who had derailed the train just now and, by extension, derailed the planned invasion of Appleloosa.
She was the one who could walk through walls.
The twins flew back towards Appleloosa, which Trixie could just see off in the distance.
“And now I know where you live, Pumpkin Cake,” said Trixie, grinning through the pain as she climbed to her hooves to survey the wreckage of the train and the injuries of her soldiers.
Pound Cake soared through the air, while carrying Little Strongheart along the railroad. He carried a huge cart full of bottled water behind him, hitched to his back.
The unicorn and buffalo troops were trudging back towards Mareicopa. There were only a hundred or so who could even walk. About fifty others who were injured moaned in agony from cracked ribs and concussions as buffalo carried them on their backs through the sweltering desert heat. The rest, many dozens more, remained on the train, dead from the derailment.
“For their sake, hopefully they brought water with them like we did,” said Little Strongheart. “They have a long journey back to Mareicopa.”
“Yep. But a shorter journey until they catch up with our draftee buffalo friends. That’s why we’ve gotta beat them there,” said Pound, picking up speed as he passed by the buffalo and unicorn soldiers. He preemptively rose in altitude, expecting them to shoot at him. But the shots never came. Maybe they didn’t see him, or didn’t think it was worth their time.
After ten more minutes, Pound and Little Strongheart reached the pack of fifty buffalo whom he and Pumpkin had rescued. He landed on the ground in front of them.
“Hey guys,” said Pound Cake. “How’s it going? Can everybuffalo walk okay?”
Most of them nodded. Pound Cake started handing out bottles of water to the parched buffalo.
“Well, you certainly look better than the unicorns and the other buffalo further up the line,” said Little Strongheart.
The buffalo muttered and murmured.
“Yeah, we derailed the train like we said. There’s a pack of about a hundred of them coming this way. They’re following the track, and they probably wouldn’t be happy to see you,” said Pound Cake.
“We should leave the side of the train tracks before they see us, and head back to our homes,” Little Strongheart added. “How many of you were from my tribe? The one that Chief Thunderhooves commands?”
About half of the buffalo raised their hooves.
“That’s about right. We are the biggest tribe,” she said, turning to Pound Cake. She turned back to the buffalo. “Alright, you all can come with me. The rest of you can come with us if you wish, or may return to your own tribes to gather your families and then meet us. We live just west of Appleloosa.”
The buffalo nodded and separated themselves into groups. Then, they began the long walk towards Little Strongheart’s camp.
The buffalo sat in their teepees, resting in the shade from the hot sun, just as Little Strongheart, Pound Cake, and the rest of the buffalo arrived.
“Attention, buffalo tribal members!” Little Strongheart called out.
They all came out of their teepees and gathered around. Many of their mouths dropped open in shock at seeing the newly-arrived buffalo and the contraptions on their backs.
“What happened to these bulls?” one of the buffalo, an older bull, asked.
“Where is Chief Thunderhooves?” one of them cows asked. The others nodded along with her, also curious.
“Chief Thunderhooves has dishonored this tribe by turning our buffalo into technological abominations against their will,” said Little Strongheart.
One of the buffalo demonstrated by creating a small lightning bolt from his horns, which arced up into the air but didn’t hit anything.
“He has drafted and kidnapped buffalo in the middle of the night and has forced them to fight, threatening their families with death if they refused,” Little Strongheart continued.
The buffalo all gasped.
“He has threatened the peace with Equestria that was so hard-fought for the buffalo over many years. He ignored reasonable warnings from our friends in Appleloosa, preferring his hot-headed warpath. For this reason, Chief Thunderhooves is no longer the chief of this tribe,” she said, shaking her head.
“Then who is?” asked many of the buffalo.
Little Strongheart stuck her head up tall, standing proud.
“I am.”
Many of the buffalo applauded. A few of them, who had been supporters of Thunderhooves, murmured and grumbled.
Self-proclaimed Chief Strongheart stuck up her hoof. “I understand that you did not choose me, that this is an imposition. But it is necessary. I do this out of love for the buffalo, so that we may live free, so that we may live in peace. If you have a problem with this, and you desire to be ruled by my father once more… there are other tribes which would take you.”
She pointed at the backs of the buffalo who stood tall behind her, which surged with electrical energy. Then, she pointed out west into the desert, towards the other tribes closer to Mareicopa.
The crowd quieted down. Pound Cake smiled as he took off into the air.
Dear Princess Twilight Sparkle,
I am a 14-year-old unicorn named Pumpkin Cake. We have met before, maybe you remember me from Ponyville. I live in Appleloosa now, and I’m writing this letter to tell you what has happened here.
On monday my pegasus brother Pound and I blew up a train with an invasion force of dozens of unicorn and buffalo soldiers. The buffalo were armed with lightening cannons, many of them died. But even after the deraillment, I believe that the town is still in great danger, however.
This is because, it was only through very good luck and quick timing that we were able to blow up this train. Next time that they want to invade, I don’t think it will be so easy to stop them. They won’t make the same mistakes again. What if they don’t come by train next time? What if they take another rout next time? What if they come in the evening when we can’t see them? Hopefully you can see how dire it still is here.
I ask that you please put a garison of pegasi over the air to the west so that they can watch if they try an invasion again, and help us fight. I understand that Appleloosa is low on your list of prioritees, but the ASDF is very small and can’t fight off an actual army for long, especially if they have lightening cannons. We may not be Dodge Junction or Tall-tale, but we need at least a small force here to help our town militia. If Appleloosa falls, how soon until Dodge Junction falls to the East? It’s time to hold the line. Please help us. Thank you.
Sincerly, Pumpkin Cake
After reading it aloud, Pumpkin set the letter down, folding it in her magic and placing it inside the envelope. She floated it over to Derpy Hooves.
“Wow, that sounds dangerous! I’m sure glad I don’t live here!” said Derpy, her eyes doing circles in her skull.
Pumpkin nodded. “If you could mark it urgent, or whatever it is that you do, I don’t know. Just please make sure that Twilight Sparkle gets it and reads it first, before any of her other letters. I would really owe you one, Derpy.”
Her eyes crossed. “Well, I’m not normally supposed to do this unless it’s from, like, a diplomat or something… but I will just for you.”
Derpy reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a red stamp which said “URGENT” on it. Then, she smacked it onto the envelope. She winked at Pumpkin with one eye and smiled.
“I’ll be sure she gets it. You can count on me. Neither rain nor sleet nor hail nor… what was the last one?”
“Uh… sunshine?” asked Pumpkin.
“No, not that one…” Derpy put her hoof to her face, closing her eyes. After a few moments, she opened them again. “I forget. Ah, well, whatever it is, it won’t stop me from doing my job!”
Pumpkin giggled. “Thanks, Derpy. I knew I could count on you.”
Manehattan
“Mail for you, Princess Twilight.”
Derpy Hooves reached into her bulging saddlebag and pulled out a letter, smiling as she held it in her teeth.
“Oh, thank you, Derpy,” said Twilight, reaching over to grab the letter.
Derpy shook her head. “No, not this letter; this one’s for your receptionist. These letters are for you.”
Derpy reached with both of her hooves and emptied the entire bulging saddlebag full of hundreds of letters out onto the grey carpeted floor of Twilight’s office.
Twilight Sparkle sighed. “It seems like there’s more and more of them everyday.”
Her horn lit up as all of the letters floated one by one over her desk.
“Junk… … junk… Super PAC… junk... bill… survey… wait a minute, what’s this?”
Twilight opened the letter marked “URGENT.” She scanned over it, her eyes darting across the page.
Twilight Sparkle, Princess Luna, and General Spitfire sat around a conference table.
Spitfire motioned with her hoof towards a map of the Equestrian continent.
“The good news is that the Second Kingdom hasn’t made any territorial gains for several months. Even longer, if you don’t count that treaty Blueblood signed with Thunderhooves as a territorial gain. The SK is still confined to territory around Canterlot, Ponyville, Mareicopa, the Buffalo Reservations, and the Everfree River all the way out to the sea. We’ve been holding our battle lines very well, and our earth pony battalions are dug into trenches all around the front lines of unicorn territory. It’s costing us a lot of ponies, but we’ve stopped their forward momentum for now. The Zebras are still besieging Tall Tale and Vanhoover, and they blew up a bridge just a few weeks ago, but they haven’t captured the cities yet.”
Twilight nodded. “They probably don’t even want to. What would they do with the cities even if they captured them?”
Luna scoffed. “They’re just ensuring that we have to divert precious resources from our true fight in the Second Kingdom theater.”
“They might not want to actually capture the cities,” said Spitfire. “Of course, they’re trying their best to destroy them. The zebra forces shell those two cities every day. The zebras even have spies and saboteurs planted inside the cities, posing as civilian zebra immigrants. We rounded up five spies just yesterday.”
Twilight blinked. “That’s a lot of spies. Are you sure that they’re all spies and not just regular Equestrian citizens who happen to be zebras? You know, like Zecora? Vanhoover and Tall Tale have a lot of peaceful zebra immigrants who live there.”
Spitifire said, “We act on reliable tips from the townsponies whenever they see a suspicious zebra. We’ve captured several of them with bombs, guns, night vision goggles, detailed maps of the city, and other sabotage and spy equipment. Of course, we aren’t the courts, so we can’t ‘prove’ them guilty. That’s for a jury to decide, if it’s even possible. But it’s complicated. A lot of the zebras that we’ve captured don’t even have any official Equestrian documents. Some can’t even speak Equish. How do you put someone like that on trial?”
Twilight and Luna remained silent.
Spitfire solemnly nodded. “Exactly. So for now, we have all of the captured zebras in a detention center under heavy armed guard so that they don’t try any funny business. We’ll let them all go when the war is over, unless the prosecutor decides to press charges and try them for treason or sedition.”
Twilight sighed. “What a mess. But the good news is that we’re about to put a stop to the Zebra Empire’s war against us. I’ve sent Zecora out to go to there this evening.”
“This is excellent news!” said Luna.
Spitfire smiled. “And about time, too! When is she going to kill Zaporizhia?”
Twilight shook her head. “Zecora told me that it may take a week or two from when she arrives to when she assassinates Emperor Zaporizhia. She said that she has to get some assets into place first. I’m not sure what all that means, but I trust her judgment to carry out her top-secret mission. She said that she would assassinate him as soon as possible.”
Spitfire said, “As soon as he dies, I say that we blitz all of the zebra forces and free our west coast from the siege. The zebras will all be demoralized from the death of their supposedly immortal ‘god’ emperor, and no one will be at the top to give them any orders. We can take advantage of that chaos to smash the zebras. We should station a pegasus garrison there right away, and have them lie in wait. Then, as soon as ol’ Zappo bites the dust, we have our guys swoop in and bomb all of their positions. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel. Then, we bring our guys back to the eastern theater and focus on victory against the Second Kingdom.”
“This is an excellent military strategy. My sister would have been proud,” said Princess Luna.
“Well, there’s a complication,” said Twilight. “Namely, the buffalo alliance. I have heard from Pound and Pumpkin Cake that the unicorns and their buffalo allies recently attempted an invasion of Appleloosa, armed with ‘lightening cannons,’ whatever that means. But the ASDF repelled them by derailing their train.”
Spitfire chuckled. “Pound Cake is a tough little guy, huh? Maybe you should have thought twice when you refused to arm the town militia.”
Twilight nodded. “I just didn’t want to send young teenagers and untrained civilians off to battle. It was and still is unconscionable to me.”
Luna said, “I agree. We are not a nation that sends young children or inexperienced soldiers off to battle. There would be chaos on the front lines.The innocence of our youths must be preserved at all costs.”
Twilight shrugged. “But I guess the townsponies are going ahead and defending their town regardless of what we here in Manehattan think. And I guess they’re doing a decent job of it. For now, that is. What happens if Appleloosa falls?”
Spitfire pointed to her map. “Well, look at it on the map. Appleloosa is basically a glorified pit stop, sitting on the MDJ line between the two big cities of Mareicopa and Dodge Junction. Appleloosa has a few hundred residents, wooden shacks, and no natural resources other than apples, which we have plenty of. The town is also undefensible, since it’s out in the middle of the flat San Palomino Desert with barely any natural barriers around it. If Blueblood wants to waste blood and treasure to conquer Appleloosa, that’s fine with me. Let him hold it and try to keep up with the logistical nightmare of supplying his desert army and buffalo allies with water and munitions using a single rail line.
“Most of our troops in the area are stationed to the east in Dodge Junction, which is a bigger city with thousands of ponies, several rail and supply lines, and natural resources. There’s a giant mesa out west of the city where we have a fort atop, and we can see for miles. Oh, and there are actually pegasi in Dodge Junction, so they can change the weather and bring in rainclouds to our troops when they need water.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t think we should station any troops in Appleloosa?”
Spitfire shook her head. “It sounds like that ASDF militia is holding their own pretty well. Pound Cake is a tough kid. I’m sure his sister is, too. They’ll make it very costly for Blueblood to take that town. I mean, I’d love to station troops there to help them out, and I would hate to lose the town, but we have other priorities right now, on the west coast. We’re just too short on troops, otherwise I’d do it. After all, this is the first war that Equestria has fought in a long time, and the first one after the Cloud Confederacy seceded and took much of our pegasi military with them. The Second Kingdom, Buffalo Nation, and the Zebra Empire have the draft, of course, so they have a guaranteed source of soldiers to replace the ones who die—”
“A draft is unacceptable!” Luna exclaimed, slamming her hoof against the table. “In thousands of years, Equestria has never had to resort to making pacifist ponies fight wars. We have faced many dire threats: changelings, wendigoes, and dragons to name a few, all without needing a draft. We have had a volunteer army since our nation’s founding. I intend to keep it as such.”
Twilight Sparkle blinked. She didn’t often get to see Luna this passionate.
Spitfire backed up, blanching. “I wasn’t suggesting anything of the sort. I mean, a draft would be nice for the war effort, but I understand. No draft.”
“Good,” said Luna, crossing her hooves. “Let us never resort to such a thing.”
Twilight glanced at the clock on the wall behind her.
“Well, that concludes the military meeting,” she said. “Time for my meeting with Filthy Rich. So many meetings and letters. You never told me that being a princess was this hard, Luna.”
Luna chuckled. Twilight shook Spitfire’s hoof, and she left the room.
“I normally let you handle economics, Twilight Sparkle,” said Princess Luna. “I have faith in your good judgment in that matter. Now, I rest so that I may return to dream patrol. Our subjects have many nightmares for me to tame nowadays, you know.”
Twilight nodded. “War is hell. Thank you for making our nights a little more restful, Luna.”
Luna sighed. “I only wish that I could get to everypony who needs me. Alas, there are not enough hours in the night. I serve but a meager fraction of our subjects these days.”
Filthy Rich smiled a pearly white smile as he entered the open doorway of Twilight’s office.
“Hey, Twi! Good to see you!” he called out as he entered the doorway, grasping her hoof and shaking it vigorously.
“Hello, Filthy Rich,” she said. “I’m curious as to what brings you here. The Equestrian Economic Council isn’t supposed to meet for another week.”
He sat down. “I just wanted to thank you again for helping me out. You did a great job stopping the workers at my stores from unionizing last week. You really have the gift of gab. Thank you,” he said.
Twilight blushed and looked the other way. “Don’t thank me, I mean, the workers deserve the credit. They were the ones who decided to get back to work! I can’t really take too much credit for just giving a speech.”
“Aw, well…” said Filthy Rich. “I mean, I was about to offer your military some help, but if you don’t need it…”
Twilight’s pupils dilated.
“Yes, please,” said Twilight. “We need all the help we can get to turn our trench warfare stalemate into a decisive victory.”
“Oh, I know you do,” said Filthy Rich, showing a toothy grin. “I keep myself appraised of the military situation. Sounds like you guys have a lack of signups and are short on troops. It’s a shame. The military really isn’t respected enough in our society.”
Twilight shrugged. “Well, it’s understandable. Ponies are a peaceful race. Equestria never spends too much on the army. During the last war that we had eight years ago with the changelings, a few of our veterans were even booed when they returned. I mean, I don’t agree with that, but that should give you an idea of how anti-war many ponies are.”
Filthy Rich shook his head in disgust. “Those civilians have no idea what those stallions and mares go through every day to ensure their safety. I served in the military myself, you know.”
Twilight nodded. “So what were you going to do to help?”
“Well,” said Filthy Rich, “I was thinking about doing something in my stores. I’ll give extra salary to any employee who commits to a six-month-or-more rotation, to be paid when they return from service to their job. I’ll also institute a veteran’s discounts on all my merchandise! They served their country, so it’s the least I can do.”
Twilight smiled. “That’s very generous of you.”
“Oh, don’t mention it,” said Filthy Rich, waving his hoof in the air. “Although, it might cut into my profits a bit. I don’t mind sacrificing bits to be patriotic, but boy, that Hollow Shades megamart was supposed to open, but it’s hit a snag, and—”
“Hollow Shades?” Twilight interrupted, raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, Hollow Shades. You know, the bayou village east of Canterlot. Bunch of trees, swamps, and very little sunlight. Lots of poverty and run-down shacks, too,” said Filthy Rich. “They make some delicious red beans and rice, though.”
“Oh, I know about Hollow Shades. It just sounds like an odd place to open a megamart,” said Twilight.
Filthy Rich laughed, throwing his hooves in the air. “Are you kidding? It’s the perfect place to open a megamart. They don’t have a Rich’s Barnyard Bargains or any other department store, for that matter. It’s an entirely untapped market.”
Twilight nodded. “I see. That makes sense.”
Filthy Rich sighed. “Well, it would make sense, but that darn town council won’t approve the permits. They keep saying that it’ll ruin their local economy. But how can they say that? I’d offer the cheapest prices in town, and those impoverished ponies in Hollow Shades could really use it. My store would be a godsend, but those ponies just don’t know what’s best for them.”
“I’ll see what I can do to change the town council’s mind,” said Twilight.
“Oh, and one other thing,” said Filthy Rich. “There’s this old landowner who won’t sell the land that I’d need for the store. All the other property owners in the area have agreed to sell, so he’s the last holdout. It would be a shame for one little old farmer to stop an entire town from getting the goods that they need.”
Twilight said, “I can use eminent domain to make him sell it to you.”
“Great!” Filthy Rich exclaimed. “I knew I could count on you, Twi. Alright, so I’m going to go and institute those veteran-friendly policies right away. Let me know as soon as you grease the wheels over there in bayou ville.”
“Will do,” said Twilight. They shook hooves and Filthy Rich departed.
A thin, crescent moon hung in the sky over the city of Tall Tale. Off in the distance, gunfire and explosions rang out every second or so. A bright flash exploded on the outskirts of town as a stray mortar hit a building.
Under cover of darkness, thick evergreen trees, and thick fog, Zecora stood by the ocean, next to a narrow wooden dock just on the outskirts of town. A small sailboat was moored to a post, illuminated by a lantern which sat inside. An old, grey-maned, navy blue-coated earth pony stood next to the boat. He wore an eyepatch, and one of his hind legs was made of wood. His cutie mark was a picture of a sailboat.
Zecora walked out onto the dock, approaching the small sailboat.
“Are ye Zecora?” the stallion asked, wincing with his good eye at her dark silhouette.
“That is me. I am the one that you see.”
“Well shiver me timbers!” the sailor exclaimed, smiling as a corncob pipe bobbed up and down in his mouth. “Please to meet ye! Name’s Chilly Waters, and I’m the cap’n o’ this here vessel. With any luck, we won’t end up in Davy Pones’ locker! Arr!”
Zecora shook her head. “Is this sailor garb and accent merely an act? Or is this how you really are as a fact?”
Chilly Waters shook his head. He glanced around, and once he was sure there was nopony in hearing range, he said, “No, it’s a clever disguise. As a ‘sea turtle’ who specializes in illegally ferrying zebras to Equestria, I can’t be recognizable as who I really am. So I dyed my mane, put on this eyepatch, and faked an accent. I’ll agree to drop the act when I’m talking to you, since Princess Twilight told me that I could trust you, but only if you agree to stop talking in those ridiculous rhymes.”
Zecora laughed. “Your disguise is not so clever. As for dropping my rhymes, the answer is never.”
The sailor groaned. But then, his eyes lit up with an idea.
“I’m just going to speak in Swazili, then,” he said in the zebra language.
Zecora rolled her eyes.
“I can still rhyme in Swazilli. See, I’m doing it right now,” she said, in a sentence which rhymed when she spoke it in Swazilli.
Chilly Waters smiled. “But do you have to rhyme in Swazilli?”
“I don’t have to rhyme at all in any language,” said Zecora. “It’s just something that I do.”
Chilly Waters chuckled as he climbed into the sailboat. Zecora glanced around, and then back at the sailor. She didn’t speak, as Chilly Waters untied the ship and started rowing out to sea.
A few minutes later, he asked, “Why were you talking in those stupid rhymes to begin with? I mean, it must be hard to come up with a rhyme for everything.”
“It’s just a speaking technique that I use,” said Zecora.
“Huh,” said Chilly Waters. “What sort of speaking technique is it? It certainly can’t make speaking the language any easier.”
“It doesn’t, but that’s the point,” said Zecora. “Think about how much slower you would have to talk if you had to find a rhyme for everything. You would probably say far fewer words. Others would be having entire conversations, and you would only say a few sentences.”
Chilly Waters nodded, bringing back the oar as he had to row against a prevailing gust of wind. “I already have enough trouble talking in that stupid pirate accent.”
“If you forced yourself to spend more time choosing every word, then you would be very careful about what you say. You would pick each word with deliberation. Your listeners would hang on your every word. A wise zebra—or pony—says very much with very few words.”
“Huh. Well, can a wise zebra help me out with the rowing?” asked Chilly Waters. He motioned with his head towards a set of oars lying in the boat.
Zecora nodded, and picked up the oars.
“I’d turn on the motor, but I don’t want to make any noise and get caught. We should be hitting a westward current soon enough. We just have to get farther out to sea until we hit the tradewinds,” said Chilly Waters. “After that, it should be smooth sailing. And you’ll be amazed at how fast the wind current shifts once it does.”
He continued to row for a few minutes, heaving with his hooves as the craft moved against the wind.
“So what brings you to the Zebra Empire? Princess Twilight wasn’t all that specific. Most zebras that I ferry are leaving the Zebra Empire. They’re looking for a job in Equestria, or they’re secretly atheists who don’t want to worship Zaporizhia anymore. From what I hear from zebras, and from what I’ve seen personally, the Zebra Empire isn’t a nice place to live.”
Zecora narrowed her eyebrows. “My reasons for going back are secret. I’m sure that you can respect my privacy given your own occupation, Chilly Waters. You break both Zebra and Equestrian immigration law with what you do.”
Chilly Waters chuckled. “And I was too careless, and I got caught. But Princess Twilight herself offered me a princess pardon if I would ferry you to the Zebra Empire. Funny, I get excused from breaking the law… by breaking the law. I guess that’s just how politics works.”
“How were you caught?” asked Zecora.
Chilly Waters sighed. “I got drunk at a bar in Tall Tale last week and let my cover slip. A mare that I wanted to hook up with asked me what I did for a living. When I told her, I accidentally said ‘sea turtle’ instead of ‘sailor.’ It was a slip of the tongue, but I figured it wasn’t a big deal. Tall Tale is full of honest, hard-working zebra immigrants.
“But as soon as I accidentally said ‘sea turtle,’ she threw her drink in my face and accused me of being a traitor to Equestria who was bringing in spies and murderers. I tried explaining to her that I didn’t ferry soldiers, that I only ferried zebras who wanted to make an honest living working in the vineyards, the shipyards, the lumberyards, all the different sorts of ‘-yards’ that are on the west coast that need workers and don’t care if you have stripes or a solid coat.
“The zebras that I ferry aren’t the Zebra army, and they’d never kill anypony. Tall Tale and Vanhoover are full of zebra immigrants; most of them are good people. And most of the ponies in those cities are pretty tolerant and know that the zebras who live in Equestria aren’t their enemies. They make our wine, they cut our trees, they unload our ships. They’re our neighbors, and often, our friends. But this particular mare wouldn’t have it. She yelled and screamed ‘traitor’ at me until the police came and dragged my stupid, drunken flank out of the bar.”
“Perhaps if you had chosen your words to this mare more carefully, you wouldn’t have made that mistake,” said Zecora, chuckling.
“Perhaps. I know for one thing that I’m not speaking in rhyme to do it.”
Zecora rolled her eyes, and Chilly Waters chuckled.
He continued, “But anyway, they locked me in a jail filled with dozens of zebras. This wasn’t the regular minimum-security county lockup, either. It was some center on the outside of town. There were a bunch of Equestrian soldiers guarding the place with guns. There were barbed wires on the sides of the fences.
“Most of the prisoners were zebras. In fact, I think I was one of the only ponies in there. Some of the zebras might have been street criminals or spies for Zaporizhia, but not all of them were. I even recognized a few of them that I had ferried over, and most of them hated Zaporizhia and thought he was a fraud, not a god! There were a lot of older zebra mares with families. They weren’t spies. Some of them even told me that they had papers and visas and were still detained regardless.”
Zecora raised an eyebrow. “You mean that they’re rounding up zebras in Tall Tale off the streets?”
Chilly Waters chuckled. “Not all of the zebras, and not all of the time, but it still happens. Anyway, I was held there until a few days ago, until the guards took me from the center and put me in a dark room. Then, none other than Princess Twilight herself showed up. She told me that there was a zebra that she wanted me to ferry back to the Zebra Empire, and she offered me a secret pardon. I thought that it was odd, but I said okay. I mean, anything to have my freedom back. I’m not a traitor; I’m just trying to pay the bills. But my pardon is conditional. I can never be a sea turtle again, never tell anypony but you about my pardon, and I have to agree never to contact the princess again.”
Zecora shook her head. “Twilight never told me of this.”
Chilly Waters shrugged. “Well, why would she? I’m not sure why you’re going back to the Zebra Empire, but I’d bet money that you were chosen directly by the princess for a secret mission, just like I was chosen. You’re some sort of spy or assassin who’s going to stir up trouble against the Zebra regime, aren’t you?”
Chilly Waters turned his head sideways as he leered at Zecora. She remained silent. She just rowed even harder.
The sailor smiled. “Hah! I knew it! Yes, maybe Princess Twilight didn’t want you to start questioning your loyalties to Equestria, as you would if you knew how they treated zebra civilians in Tall Tale and Vanhoover. She just wanted you to complete your mission first and ask questions later. No second-guessing allowed.”
Zecora put down her oars in the boat. She stared back towards Tall Tale and Vanhoover.
“Well, all I know is one thing,” said Chilly Waters. “The sooner that Zaporizhia kicks the can, the better. The zebras are good people. They just have a terrible leader.”
Still not speaking, Zecora turned back to Chilly Waters.
He continued to row. “Well, hey, just tell me if you want to go back, and I’ll turn the boat around right now, drop you back in Tall Tale, and then disappear off into the sunset. If you choose not to complete your mission, I would totally understand. If you want to go give an earful to the princess, then by all means, you’re free to do it. I mean, if I were you, I—”
Chilly Waters’ eyes widened as the wind started to gust and pick up.
“LOOK OUT!” he shouted, pointing his hoof at something behind Zecora.
Zecora turned back, just as the thick metal rebar holding the sail swung back from the gust and hit her in the face.
Chilly Waters dropped his oars in the boat and rushed over to Zecora, who lie on the floorboards, slumped back onto the ground.
“Zecora? Zecora?” he asked. He reached over with his hoof and checked her neck pulse.
Her heart was still beating, but she was out cold.
“Dammit!” Chilly Waters exclaimed. He grabbed the oars and rowed in the opposite direction, back towards Tall Tale. Soon, he reached the winds that carried him back to the coast.
Chilly Waters arrived at the shore, mooring his boat back up with the dock. He reached over with his hoof to check Zecora’s pulse for the tenth time since she had been hit by the rebar. Her heart was still beating.
“Alright, it just looks like you’ve been knocked out. Hopefully it’s not a coma. I’ll take you back home and get you some rest. If it gets worse or if you don’t wake up in a few hours, I’ll take you to the hospital.”
He glanced back over at Tall Tale, where the morning sun had just started coming up over the horizon. He could see a smoke plume from an explosion that had gone off.
“I just hope I don’t have to do that,” he said.
Chilly Waters heaved Zecora over his back, walking over to a wooden cart parked near the dock. He set Zecora down, covered her with a tarp, and hitched himself to the cart.
“Don’t die on me, Zecora,” said Chilly Waters, rushing along the street. He glanced eastward at the sun. Hopefully he would get back home before the sun rose.
After ten minutes, he saw a column of Equestrian soldiers in the road, walking towards him.
Okay, just act natural. Drop the sailor gig. You’re just a normal stallion out on his morning routine. His early, early morning routine.
“Morning, gentlestallions,” said Chilly Waters, nodding at them as he walked by.
“Morning,” said the earth pony officer who led the column.
“Stay safe out here,” said a pegasus officer. “The Zebras have been shelling us extra hard the past few days.”
“I sure will,” said Chilly Waters.
He breathed a sigh of relief as the column passed him by one by one.
That didn’t turn out so bad, he thought.
But then, towards the end of the column, one of the soldiers, a unicorn, jumped out of the column and pointed his gun towards Chilly Waters.
“What’s a sailor like you doing this far inland?” he demanded, pointing his gun at Chilly Waters’ sailboat cutie mark.
Chilly Waters blushed. “I’m not a sailor; I just build model sailboats in my spare time.”
“Private Triggerhorn, get back in line!” the officer yelled at the soldier. “Leave this civilian alone!”
“He’s lying, Sarge! Building model sailboats is a hobby, not a special talent! I’ll bet he’s a sea turtle!”
Private Triggerhorn’s horn lit up as the tarp covering Zecora floated off, revealing the unconscious zebra to the column of soldiers.
“See! He’s a sea turtle ferrying Zebra spies!” Triggerhorn shouted.
They all instantly drew their guns and pointed them at Chilly Waters and Zecora.
“Well, I’ll be, Triggerhorn, you actually were right this time,” said the sergeant, his jaw agape in shock. “Take these two to the detention center!”
Zecora woke up with her head flat on the concrete, the sun blaring in her eyes. She brought her hoof up to her aching forehead, rubbing it.
I think it’s a concussion, she thought.
She got to her hooves and stood, gazing around.
Hundreds of zebras of both genders and all ages stood on concrete which stretched out for many meters. Several sat on the floor playing cards or talking. There were a few fillies and colts running around playing ball or hopscotch.
The concrete terminated with tall, barbed-wire fences on all sides. A guard tower stood at one of the corners. Armed guards patrolled outside of the perimeter of the fence.
There was a single opening in the fence, which let into a two-story concrete building.
On the entrance, a giant sign hung which said “SLEEPING QUARTERS.”
Zecora walked over to the fence, still slightly dizzy from the concussion. When she was a few paces away, one of the earth pony guards trained his rifle on her.
“Don’t come any closer, zeeb. No scaling the walls.”
Zecora frowned. “I don’t belong in this sty. I am a patriot and an Equestrian citizen, not a spy,” she said.
The guard chuckled. “That’s what they all say. But every day, there are bombs that go off in Tall Tale and Vanhoover. Funny how those just so happen to be the only two cities in Equestria where so-called ‘immigrant’ zebras live, huh? You ‘immigrants’ are guilty of providing aid and comfort to the enemy, helping the Zebra army plant bombs. All you zeebs are trying to take the west coast cities down from within.”
“You must set me free. I live not on the west coast, but in the Everfree.”
The guard rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. And I’m from Cloudsdale,” he said, motioning to his wingless back. “You’ll all be free to go—back to the Zebra Empire, that is—as soon as the war is over. Unless you’re charged with treason, of course. In which case, you’ll be tried and executed like any other traitor.”
“Princess Twilight would tell you that I am not a traitor. Tell the princess that Zecora wishes to speak to her.”
The guard laughed, slapping his chest with his hoof. He guffawed hysterically, his gun quivering.
“Is that some sort of escape tactic, zeeb? Try to get me to laugh so hard that I drop my gun? Well, it’s not gonna work. I’m not gonna tell the princess anything. I’m just a grunt, and she probably wouldn’t even give me the time of day. Also, there’s probably about a million zebras named Zecora.”
Zecora said, “But—”
The guard interrupted her, shouting, “Hey, Zecora!”
Several zebras in the crowd turned around to face the fence.
The guard chuckled. “See what I mean?”
Zecora frowned. “When I was captured, there was another with me. He was a sailor, an earth pony.”
“Did he call himself Chilly Waters?” asked the guard.
She nodded.
He said, “Wow, you both must have worked really hard together to coordinate this excuse. He kept claiming that you two were on a mission from the Princess. He tried to grab a gun from one of my buddies. Bad mistake. We shot him. What an idiot, and what a traitor. I’m sure he won’t be missed.”
Zecora blinked.
“Yeah, and if you try to escape, you’ll get the same,” said the guard. “Now leave me alone. You aren’t the only zeeb I gotta keep an eye on.”
The guard walked off.
Zecora sighed, walking back towards the center of the camp.
Canterlot: December 2024
A bright blue sky hung over the city of Canterlot, as biplanes flew through the air and chopped up the cloud cover. Ponies covered their eyes with sunglasses as the sun shone through for the first time in a week, and the glistening white from the domes of Equestria’s former capital glared in their eyes.
Crowds gathered beside the streets on this slightly chilly December afternoon, many of them with scarves around their necks. They stood alongside the sidewalk, on balconies, and on rooftops. Mothers levitated their fillies and colts above their heads with their magic so that the children could get a better view.
A suave and debonair unicorn stallion stood in the crowd, wearing a black tuxedo and a red bow-tie. His coat was cream, and his mane was brown and slicked back. His magic lit up green as he opened up a steel cigarette case. He fished through the cigarettes with his magic, careful to remove the correct one. Some of them were explosives, some acted as smoke bombs, and others did other things. Finally, he chose a plain old Lucky Spy cigarette from a steel case and floated it up to his mouth, lighting it with his magic.
Music and fanfare sounded as ponies started to cheer. A giant parade float with proud-looking unicorn soldiers standing atop was the first to pass. It was red and black, and two Second Kingdom flags fluttered proudly from either side. The unicorns fired their guns off into the air, to loud applause.
Atop the float, a giant banner hung which read, “UNICORN FREEDOM MOVEMENT PARTY’S ANNUAL PARADE! HAVE A GREAT TIME!”
The stallion narrowed his eyes. Yes, I’m sure that I’ll have a blast, he thought.
He took another drag from his smooth, refreshing Lucky Spy cigarette as another float passed by, this one full of attractive mares who held up crying foals in their magic.
“DO YOUR PART: RAISE A UNICORN FOAL”
I’m a bit too worldly to be burdened by fatherhood, thank you, he thought.
“Hey there, handsome.”
Distracted from the snippy one-liners in his head, the stallion turned around to see a smiling blue unicorn mare speaking to him. She had a curious mane: dark blue with a white highlight. Or was it the other way around?
“Hello,” he said in a Trottish accent. “Might I ask who you are?”
“My name’s Colgate Openwide. And who are you, good sir? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”
“The name’s Mane, Con Mane. Nice to meet you, Miss Openwide. I’m from Trotland, the Uneighted Kingdom. Yourself?”
Colgate’s eyes widened. “Ooh, how exotic! I’m not from any place far off like Trotland; I’m just from Ponyville, which is a few hours from here by hoof. I used to be the town dentist, and quite renowned, too. But then the Second Kingdom came into town and told me that two-thirds of my customer base would no longer be needing my services, and that I should come fix unicorn teeth in Canterlot. So, here I am.”
“Well, you should have gone to my country; we could use more dentists,” Con Mane chuckled. “As for my profession, I happen to be a secret—”
Don’t say agent, you tosser! Remember what happened last time in Janeighca? Say something else!
“—shopper. A secret shopper. And I’m here in Canterlot to sample the local shops and cuisine, see the sights, and give a review to the Trotland Telegraph, a national paper."
“Ah,” said Colgate. “Well, we’re on food rationing around here, so you might not be able to try as many restaurants as you want, but with a suit like that, Blueblood would have to make an exception for you!”
“Yes,” said Con Mane. He smiled and looked Colgate in the eyes. “Now, Miss Openwide, I was only sent here to sample the local shops and cuisine, but I must ask you: how are the… dental services?”
Colgate blushed. She put her hoof up to Con Mane’s chest. “Well, sir, I normally don’t take walk-ins, but I do take trot-ins. Let’s go back to the dental shop, and I’ll look at my schedule.”
“I’d love it if you could... fit me in for an oral examination,” said Con Mane. He wrapped his arm around her, and they both started walking.
You git! Complete your mission first, or N will have your head!
“Err… I mean, let’s see the parade first,” said Mane, blushing slightly. “I do want to write a review of it for the Telegraph, you know.”
Colgate blinked. “Uh… good idea! Wouldn’t want Blueblood thinking I’m unpatriotic, after all.”
She grimaced slightly, for the briefest fraction of a second, but Con Mane’s keen eye picked it up. His heart sunk.
Bloody good job on that one, you daft imbecile! Now how are you going to shag her afterwards if she thinks you’re a dense, uncaring arse who wants to see a stupid parade more than you want to see her?
Con Mane glimpsed a unicorn walking around with a tray full of drinks.
“Waiter,” Con Mane called. The unicorn walked over to him. “Two martinis, please. Shaken, not stirred.”
The unicorn nodded, and floated the drinks over to Colgate and Con Mane.
Colgate smiled. “That’s my favorite drink! How did you know?” she asked.
Con Mane smiled back, confident that he was on his game again. “Call it… intuition, Miss Openwide.”
Another few floats passed by. One of them had ten Canterlot police officers standing atop, decked out in blue uniforms, wearing glasses and carrying nightsticks in their magic.
A banner atop the police float said, “REPORT ALL NON-UNICORN INTRUDERS IN CANTERLOT BY CALLING THE POLICE.”
“Yes, if I see any, I’ll get on the horn right away,” said Con Mane.
Colgate chuckled.
A few minutes later, another float went by. Atop it, there was a pony wearing a cigarette costume, and a Second Kingdom soldier holding up a gun up to the cigarette costume. Ponies wearing T-shirts with no-smoking symbols on them tossed out nicotine gum and patches to the crowd.
The banner on the float said “KEEP THE MASTER RACE HEALTHY! QUIT SMOKING!”
Con Mane turned to Colgate. “I know one pretty mare that they won’t quit from being smokin’ hot.”
She blushed, laughing as she drank her second martini.
A few minutes later, another float passed by with blackboards, school desks, and teachers on it. The teachers were floating out meter sticks to the crowd.
Atop the float was a giant scale and a measuring stick, and a giant banner which said, “THE SECOND KINGDOM IS GOING MARETRIC. OUT WITH EQUESTRIAN FEET AND POUNDS: IN WITH METERS AND KILOGRAMS.”
Con Mane sighed, shaking his head. “Give them an inch and they’ll take the miles.”
Now on her third martini, Colgate guffawed and laughed even harder this time, falling over and spilling all of her drink onto Con Mane.
“You should be a comedy funny stand person, mishter Mane,” she said.
“Careful, dear. Don’t want to get too tipsy before the grand finale,” said Con Mane, drying the martini off of his tuxedo with a napkin that he kept hidden in his back pocket for just the occasion. His clothes were still wet, but he knew a good dry cleaner. He glanced down the street, and saw that King Blueblood’s float was about ten behind.
As soon as the maretric float passed, he stole a quick glance at the street and at the sewer cover below. He adjusted his bow tie with his magic.
Time for some confetti, he thought.
The ninth float before Blueblood’s passed. Then the eighth. Seventh… sixth…
“King Blueblood’s float is coming up,” said Con Mane.
“Eh, fush Blueblood anyway,” said Colgate. “I had everything in Pony town place, ya know. A dental thing. A good houshe with a mailbox and shtuff. A puppy. I mean he’sh a adult dog now but shtill… But then what did Bluebird do? He…”
She hiccuped. Luckily for her, the rest of the crowd was cheering too loudly to pay attention to her anti-Blueblood remarks.
“He… made me forget what I wanted to shay, the bashtard!” said Colgate, swaying on her hooves as she stood.
She’s quite pissed, thought Con Mane.
“I think you’ve had enough, darling,” he said. He took Colgate in his magic and walked through the crowd, so that he could have a good view to a kill.
The fourth float before Blueblood’s float passed by, then the third float. After he was at a safe distance, Con Mane opened up his cigarette case, and felt each one of them with his magic until he found the one that he wanted.
It was slightly heavier than the rest, and the filter was actually metallic and contained a small device inside of it that would activate when he sucked on it. He floated it into his mouth, pretending to light it.
The second float in front… then the first…
He got his lungs ready, exhaling so that he could take a deep breath when he needed to. King Blueblood’s float passed over the sewer cover. It was decked out in gold leaf and white frills, and had a red and black banner for the Unicorn Freedom Movement party. There was a faint purple glow shimmering around Blueblood: one of his force fields that he normally kept for protection when he was out in public. He waved to the crowd, who cheered and roared when he passed. He was right over the sewer cover.
Con Mane inhaled from the cigarette. Nothing happened. The blood drained from Con Mane’s face.
“Alright, we’ve sheen president Blueballs, finally,” said Colgate, groaning. Then, she smiled. “Back to my plashe, Mister Mane?”
Con Mane would have laughed at her joke, but instead he floated his cigarette out of his mouth, frantically examining it and trying to see what was wrong. He opened the filter. Was it the triggering mechanism? The filter? The radio transceiver?
His mind flooded with information as he tried to remember what U-branch had told him about the secret gadgets they’d given him for this mission.
”Now see here, Double-Oat Seven. This trigger cigarette, or ‘triggarette,’ will set off the bomb that you will use to assassinate King Blueblood. All you have to do is inhale from it, and that will set off the radio transponder of the bomb, which will be hidden under the manhole cover. Now, you must be very careful never to let this triggarette get… get…”
Get what? Destroyed? Broken? Wet? What did U say to him? He couldn’t remember! The fog of too many martinis filled his head as he tried to steady his vision to look at the small moving pieces of the triggarette.
“Oh, is that one of thoshe smokelesh mechanicalized cigarettesh to help you shtop smokin like the float poniesh said?” asked Colgate. “I musta broke it when I shpilt the alochol. Here.”
She snatched the device out of Mane’s magic and fiddled with it. She opened the filter and blew on it, and alcohol droplets fell out. After a few seconds of fiddling, she clicked a few small pieces into place and a light on the device turned on.
Con Mane’s jaw dropped. Colgate smiled.
“Yeah, I’ve fixed way too many shmall mechana technomobobs at my dentish shop. Electric toothbruzzes, dental drillsh, the worksh,” she said. “I outta quit shmokin meself. Lemme take a drag.”
Con Mane glanced over at the parade. King Blueblood’s float had passed. Instead, the float after it was now over the sewer cover. It was full of young fillies and colts wearing the red and black colors of the Unicorn Freedom Movement party. At the top of the float, a banner read “UNICORN FREEDOM PARTY: YOUNG UNICORNS FOLLOWING IN BLUEBLOOD’S HOOFSTEPS.”
Con Mane’s eyes widened as Colgate brought the cigarette to her lips.
“NO!” he shouted, rushing over to slap the cigarette away as she inhaled. But he was too late. A tremendous explosion ripped through the street, right under the young unicorns’ float.
Mareicopa: January 2025
Fancy Pants sat at his desk in Mareicopa, busy looking over prints for a new poster that Blueblood had told him to hang up. It was already after closing time at the office, but Fancy Pants had been working overtime in the last few weeks.
The posters all had pictures of the destroyed float from the Unicorn Freedom Movement parade from various angles. On them were written such things as “Ten children dead in Canterlot parade bombing. Join the SKAF today to stop killers of child unicorns!”
Another had a picture of young bodies covered in tarps at the Canterlot morgue. “Do you still want to rejoin Equestria now? This is what we’re saving you from, Mareicopa!”
His heart sunk as he looked at the posters, one of which simply had a picture of a crying mother and said, “We will never forgive. We will never forget.”
What have I done? he thought. This was never supposed to happen.
A single tear came to his eye. He didn’t want unicorn children to die, just Blueblood. What could have happened? Those children were just brainwashed patsies for Blueblood’s political ambitions. They weren’t legitimate targets. Did something go wrong with the bomb?
Whatever happened to foil the assassination attempt, it sure had been a boon for recruitment. There were twenty signups from Mareicopa just today. Though Princess Twilight had released a statement publicly condemning the bombing and disavowing responsibility for such a barbaric act of terror, everypony in all of Equestria and the Second Kingdom knew exactly who had ordered it. Though most ponies figured that the bomb was meant for Blueblood but went terribly wrong.
“This was never supposed to happen…” he sighed. “Blueblood, you monster. I lay this all at your hooves.”
He continued to gaze at the posters.
“Well, I see that you’re looking particularly remorseful, Fancy Pants.”
He turned his head up and his heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t see anypony in his office, and his door was shut.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
Suddenly, a floating head appeared in front of his desk.
“Just a spook named Sparkler,” said a pink-coated unicorn mare, whose horn was lit up purple.
The rest of her coat appeared gradually, fading into existence.
“Sparkler? Were you… spying on me?” he demanded.
“Noooo, I just so happened to be in your office while practicing my invisibility magic,” she sarcastically said, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I was spying on you, you dork! We keep all of our Second Kingdom defectors and informants on a tight leash. You should know that.”
Amethyst Star, codename Sparkler, was a pink unicorn pony with a violet mane and a cutie mark of three gemstones. She was middle-aged, with crows’ feet around her eyes and stretch marks on her belly: an unlikely candidate for a secret agent. But the ‘soccer mom’ disguise was a clever ruse for her line of work, and unicorns who could master the legendarily difficult invisibility spell were always in high demand from Equestrian intelligence regardless of their age.
“I see,” said Fancy Pants. “Well, then, maybe you can explain this!”
He scowled as he floated one of his propaganda posters over to Sparkler.
“Ten children dead, Sparkler! It was supposed to be Blueblood! When I gave you his parade route, I thought that you’d take him out, not his youth brigade!” Fancy Pants demanded.
Sparkler groaned. “Yes, because obviously we gave Blueblood such a juicy piece of propaganda on purpose, and we deliberately passed up the chance to kill our greatest adversary to knock off some children instead.”
“Quit playing sarcasm with me, Sparkler; I’m not in the mood,” said Fancy Pants.
Sparkler shook her head. “Calm down and quit acting stupid. It came as a shock to us, too.”
“I understand that you didn’t do it on purpose. I’m just upset,” said Fancy Pants.
Sparkler nodded. “As you have every right to be.”
Fancy Pants walked over to his cabinet near his desk and got out a bottle of brandy. He poured himself a glass and drank the entire glass at once.
“Why did this happen? What exactly went wrong with the plan?” he asked.
Sparkler shook her head. “We don’t know. Trotland Yard is clueless about what went wrong. They put their best agent on the case. He’s been a bit reckless before, but he’s always gotten the job done. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, the wrong float was blown up, and double-oat seven was captured. Blueblood was pretty upset. Put the agent over a tank of sharks and slowly dropped him inside to be eaten alive. This time, the agent didn’t even pull a clever escape like he normally does when he’s captured, because King Blueblood was so angry that he actually stayed inside and watched the shark tank to ensure that the agent truly was dead.”
Fancy Pants sighed. “That sounds like a mess.”
Sparkler chuckled. “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it. Blueblood knows that bomb was meant for him, and this hasn’t been our first attempt on his life. He’s tightened up his security like you wouldn’t believe. He won’t even leave his bunker for anything, and there’s only one entrance, and there’s this anti-magic faraday cage around it. Not even my invisibility could get me inside.”
“There have been other attempts on his life?” asked Fancy Pants.
She nodded. “Yep. We attempted it one other time about a month ago. We poisoned his food, but he changed his dinner plans at the last minute. We didn’t think anything of it at first. I mean, he’s an elected president who still insists on calling himself ‘king.’ He’s probably pretty picky about what he eats. So we decided to try again.
“After you turned coat and agreed to work with us, we gave Trotland Yard the parade route, and they sent over their best agent to blow up his float. And of course, you know how that worked out. And then, we lost contact with one of our agents who was sent to the Zebra Empire on a different mission. We don’t know exactly what happened to her, but think that she might have been found out and killed. So now, we think that we have a double-agent embedded in the Royal Institute of Secret Knowledge itself, who’s been tipping Blueblood and Zaporizhia off to our plans.”
Fancy Pants adjusted his monocle. “You mean that you have a mole inside of RISK?” he asked.
Sparkler said, “Yes, in fact, that’s literally what I just said, except phrased differently.”
“Do you have any idea who the mole is?” asked Fancy Pants.
She shook her head. “Well, I know it’s not you, since I’ve been watching you all afternoon, and you look as shocked about this turn of events as any of us are. And I know it’s probably not Twilight, Luna, or Spitfire, since I’ve also observed them secretly. But it could be anypony else. They could be high up in the organization. It could even be the director of RISK himself.
“So, while Twilight sends one of her other agents to clean house over at RISK, she’s personally sent me out to finish the job that Con Mane started, since she says that I’m the only agent she can trust. My mission is to kill King Blueblood and help place you into power as his successor.”
“But I’m not his direct successor,” said Fancy Pants. “I’m fourth in line: behind Flim, Flam, and Trixie.”
Sparkler nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m taking them out first. But I’m going to do it a bit differently than RISK has tried to do it before. Their deaths will all look like natural causes, and will happen a few months apart from each other, too far apart to look suspicious, but close enough together so that Blueblood doesn’t have any time to name replacements and you’ll keep climbing the succession ladder.”
“But that still leaves Blueblood himself,” said Fancy Pants. “You’ve already made two different attempts on his life, and I doubt he’ll be letting his guard down so easily. You only live twice.”
“I know. It would be nearly impossible for me to kill him now,” said Sparkler.
Then, she walked towards Fancy Pants and put her hoof on his chest. “That’s why you’re going to.”
The color would have drained from Fancy Pants’ face, but his coat was already as white as the driven snow normally. Instead, he simply walked over to his cabinet and poured himself another drink. He took a big gulp, and then spat the rest out onto Sparkler’s face.
“I can’t kill Blueblood! I’m a propaganda minister, not a spy!”
Sparkler frowned, wiping the alcohol from her fur. “Exactly. That’s why he’d never suspect you. When the time comes in a few months, I will give you the instructions on how to kill him, and you will follow them exactly. Just like my assassinations, it will look like natural causes, not murder. After he’s dead, you’ll assume the presidency of the SK and sign a peace treaty with Equestria, agreeing to give us back the lands that you’ve seized since the war began, in exchange for peace and your country’s continued existence in Canterlot.”
Fancy Pants shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. I might get caught. I can’t do it!”
Sparkler frowned, poking her hoof into Fancy Pants' chest. “I didn’t say that you had a choice, Minister Fancy Pants. Failure is not an option. You will rise to the occasion and lead your kingdom to peace. You’ll kill the war-mongering, megalomaniacal Blueblood and secure peace and a lasting friendship between our two nations. And you’ll do it in just a few months’ time.”
Both ponies were silent for a few moments. Finally, Fancy Pants nodded.
“Alright, I suppose you’ve left me no other choice. I’ll do it with a smile, then.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Sparkler.
“But what should I do between now and then?” asked Fancy Pants. “Blueblood is having me try to turn Mareicopa into a proud unicorn city like Canterlot, and I’m making a list of potential traitors for him so that his secret police can round them up. If I don’t do either of those things, then he’ll—”
“Do it,” said Sparkler. “Do exactly what you’ve been doing, which is being the best propaganda minister that you can be. Sell the unicorn supremacy line and the Equestrian child murderer line as much as you can. Put every single pony on that traitor list that you can, because you can always let them go once you’re the president. If you put your entire heart into being loyal to Blueblood, that will make him trust you, and he won’t get suspicious that you might be a traitor.”
Fancy Pants nodded. Sparkler turned around and headed for the door to his office, opening it.
She turned back. “Oh, and one more thing, Fancy Pants,” she said as her coat and mane began to disappear.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Quit talking to yourself. It’s a bad habit, and you might blow your cover. I’m not the only unicorn that can turn invisible, you know.”
The door appeared to shut itself as Amethyst Star, codename Sparkler, reached over with her invisible hoof and closed it.
The Detention Center: March 2025
Zecora’s eyes opened as the sun shine through the window of the room. Out in the hallway, zebras were shuffling out of bed and into the mess hall for breakfast.
She sighed, pulled back the covers, and climbed out of her bunk. She walked down the rows and rows of beds. There were hundreds of them now, and more and more zebras to fill them every day. Over the past few months, she had heard rumors that the Equestrian army had built another camp for all the alleged spies that they had captured.
Except they weren’t all spies. And from the conversations that Zecora had with them, most of them didn’t even know what they were there for. If there were spies here, they were still spies and still keeping their cover until the very end, because she hadn’t seen a single zebra doing anything suspicious.
Zecora walked down to the mess hall. There were rows and rows of taupe cafeteria tables lined up. Zebras lined up at the lunch counter, where other zebras who worked as cooks served them a white, mushy substance. Apparently it was called ‘grits.’ It should have been called ‘moist, flavorless junk.’ They served it every day. She got in line with the others, waiting her turn.
After the cook dumped a ladle full of grits onto her plate and hoofed her a small carton of milk, she sat down at the table. While the other zebras had congregated into groups based off of their families, or what area of Tall Tale they used to live in, Zecora sat alone. Though she’d been in this detention center for months, she still didn’t see herself as a prisoner.
I just need to find one guard to listen to me. Is it that hard? she thought.
Once she was done with her food, she returned her tray to the counter and walked out the front door, into the fenced-in courtyard where she had initially woken up on her first day there. She felt a slight chill in the air as she exited. Winter still hadn’t quite gone away yet.
“Morning, Zecora,” said a voice in Swazili. She turned to see a zebra stallion smiling over at her, taking a drag of a cigarette as he leaned against the wall. He was tall and lanky, standing about ten centimeters taller than Zecora. His mane was long, entirely jet-black, and slicked back.
“Hello, Zarek,” she said, also in Swazili.
Zarek was the only zebra who Zecora regularly spoke to. Or, rather, the only one who regularly spoke to her, since she didn’t exactly go out of her way to socialize. The other zebras in the camp simply thought that Zecora was odd, but Zarek actually took an active interest in her and went out of his way to speak to her.
He took another drag of his cigarette.
“So, when are you going to do your daily rounds, Zecora?” asked Zarek. “I’m ready to see the show.”
Zecora shook her head no. Zarek’s jaw dropped.
“You’re not doing your rounds? But every single day since you’ve gotten here, for almost five months now, you’ve been going around to all the guards one by one, telling them all that you know the princess, that you’re innocent, etcetera. You start at sun up, and continue until sundown. In fact, that’s all that you’ve been doing. It’s actually pretty entertaining to watch you plead with them. It’s certainly the most fun to be had in this dump.”
Zecora nodded. “And?”
“And… you’re not doing it today! But why?” Zarek demanded, throwing his hooves up in the air.
Zecora shook her head. “I’ve probably spoken to every guard in this entire camp by now, several times. And not a single one of them will listen to me and what I have to say.”
Zarek laughed. “So you’ve finally given up. Figures. I knew this day would come; I just didn’t think it would come five months after you got here. You’re tenacious, I’ll give you that.”
Zecora nodded. “There is no convincing them. They refuse to give me an audience with the princess, or even a pen and paper to write her a letter. They all think that I’m lying.”
“Well, maybe you are lying.”
Zecora’s eyebrows raised. Zarek smiled.
“Zecora, did you know that I am actually a zebra spy?” asked Zarek.
Zecora shook her head. “No you’re not, Zarek.”
Zarek put up his hoof. “It’s true! I’m a secret agent, and Zaporizhia himself sent me over here to blow up a bridge. I was caught and sent to this camp. A lot of these zebras are actually my comrades.”
She shook her head. “You’re lying.”
“How do you know? You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me, other than my name and that I stand out here and smoke cigarettes, watching and laughing every day while you make a fool of yourself with the guards. Sure, you’ve known my name for a while, and I’ve said hi to you every day, but what do you know about me? Nothing. I could tell you that I was anyone before I got locked up. You’d either have to take me at my word, or not,” said Zarek.
She remained silent. Zarek took another drag.
“Not everyone in this camp is as innocent as you claim to be,” said Zarek. “The fact that you haven’t been able to prove me wrong about being a spy, proves me right that you could actually be a spy, and the guards have no reason to believe you.”
Zecora scoffed. “There are young fillies and colts here. Are they spies, too?”
Zarek chuckled. “Oh, come on, Zecora. Don’t play dumb with me. I’ve heard you argue with guards until you’re blue in the face, and I’ve heard some decent arguments out of you, so I know that you aren’t stupid. You even try that wise old mare rhyming gimmick, too. But just because there are some innocent zebras here who got swept up in the anti-zebra fervor, doesn’t mean that everyone here is innocent. And that’s the problem. Anyone in here could be a secret agent. Why should the guards believe you? What could you say to them that would be different from anything that an actual spy would say?”
Zecora looked off into space, as if the answer could be found just over the horizon.
“I wasn’t a spy before I got here, but I was an attorney,” Zarek continued. “I was the best zebra defender in all of the northwest coast, actually. I got a lot of zebras off of trumped-up charges. There’s a lot of prejudice and racial profiling against our people in Equestria, as you’ve experienced firsthoof.
“As a typical example of my work, I had a zebra in Vanhoover last September who was accused of rape. The victim picked him out of a police lineup, but he was the wrong guy. The victim's attacker was a zebra, and she thought we all look the same. The prosecutor crucified my client in his opening statement, but then I got their witness on the stand, and I proved that their case against my client was entirely circumstantial and that they had no way to prove he was ever even there. The jury deliberated for five minutes and then let him off.
“I never lost any cases. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I’d always stack the jury with a few zebras, who would be sympathetic to their own kind. But then, my career came to a sudden end last year. One of the prosecutors publicly accused me of being a spy. He even put my picture in the papers and everything. That night, General Spitfire’s goon squad showed up at my door, and the rest is history. This is despite the fact that they have no evidence, and I’m a second-generation immigrant who was born and raised in Equestria.”
Zecora chuckled. “It’s funny. I always ask the guards to let me talk to a lawyer. But I guess that it’s the lawyer who’s been talking to me.”
“That’s the problem, though,” said Zarek. “This is a detention center, not a courtroom. They’re keeping us locked up here without a trial, without evidence, without a chance to convince a jury of our peers of our innocence. I know the law, and I know how to argue way better than you can, because I do it for a living. You may be wise, but I’m shrewd. In fact, I argued when I first got here, too, just like you did. But these guards aren’t a jury, and they’re certainly not our peers. They’re ponies with guns who get on this power trip and think that anyone in here could be a spy. The guards are the gatekeepers, and they won’t open the gate.
“So, again, I ask you: what can you say to them to convince them that you aren’t a spy, something that an actual spy wouldn’t also say? How can you get them to believe you? You could sing the Equestrian national anthem until you’re blue in the face, and they’d just say that you memorized it as part of your training in case you were caught. You could tell them all of the small towns up and down the west coast as proof that you live here, and they’d just tell you that you were planning to destroy them. What can you say to ponies who refuse to listen?”
Zecora shrugged. “That sounds like a riddle to me. I do not know.”
Zarek smiled. “Oh, well I do know, actually, but I’m not telling, because I think it would be fun to watch you figure it out. But if you do figure it out, you’ll find not just your ticket out of here, but mine as well.”
Zarek stubbed out his cigarette, waved to Zecora, and walked back into the sleeping quarters.
Zecora walked off. She had been in this camp for months now, and she had met every single guard. Though she hadn’t told them of her top-secret mission to assassinate the Emperor, she had told them pretty much everything besides: that she used to live in the Everfree, that it was all a mistake, that it was a misunderstanding. She demanded to see a lawyer, and they always told her that she would simply be set free when the war ended, so she didn’t need a lawyer. She had told them everything that she could to prove her innocence, but a spy would have said the exact same things.
The only thing left for her to tell them was that she actually was going to assassinate Zaporizhia. But that’s exactly what a desperate spy would say, too.
Zarek was right. She had only said things which a spy might say to lure ponies into believing that she wasn’t really a spy. What wouldn’t a spy say to get out of this detention center?
Zecora walked around the detention center, mulling it over in her mind.
You’ll find not just your ticket out of here, but mine as well.
Her face lit up. She knew exactly what she needed to say.
Zecora walked up to the fence near the guard tower. At this point, the guards all knew her, and didn’t even raise their rifles when she approached. By now, they knew that she wouldn't try to dig or climb her way out, only try to talk her way out.
“Hey, it’s Little Miss call-the-princess-I’m-innocent,” said one of the guards. “Back to talk us to death again, huh, zeeb?”
The guards all laughed.
“My name is Zecora,” said Zecora. “And you all are right. It’s time to bring my farce to an end.”
The guards muttered and scratched their heads.
“That’s right!” Zecora shouted, loud enough for the entire camp to hear. “I am a traitor to Equestria, a spy for the Zebra Empire! I’ve killed ponies! I’ve blown up bridges and sabotaged rail lines, and I’d do it all again!”
The guards blinked. Then, one of them shouted.
“You traitor! My buddy was on that bridge!”
He raised his assault rifle and pointed it at Zecora, but his superior officer put up his hoof.
“Easy, private. Let’s not start executing POW's on the spot, yes?”
After a few moments, the hot-headed guard lowered his weapon. The officer turned towards Zecora.
“It’s about time that you fess up to your crimes. Glad that you’ve quit trying to smooth talk us, spy,” said the officer. “You realize that you could be tried in court and sentenced to death, yes?”
Zecora nodded. “Yes, because I’m a spy.”
“And I’m this spy’s lawyer!” shouted Zarek, who had dashed out of the sleeping quarters and ran over to Zecora.
The officer chuckled. “Well, then. Somepony call the prosecutor. We’re going to try the spy and then send her to fry!”
Zarek grinned. “That’s exactly what I’m counting on.”
The officer motioned for one of his stallions. “Tie them both up and take them into containment.”
Tall Tale Superior Court: April 2025
The old, marble-columned courtroom in Tall Tale stood proudly near the center of downtown. Part of its facade had been damaged in a mortar attack a few weeks ago, but ponies wearing suits and ties still busily walked about. The legal system in Equestria still had to work, despite the city being under siege.
Inside one of the wood-paneled courtrooms, a small group of ponies entered and sat down at various tables. The courtroom was still mostly empty other than this group. Were it a trial, the old room would be packed so full that ponies would have to stand in the back behind the rows of seats.
As soon as everypony was seated, the bailiff, a muscular stallion in a uniform, spoke, “All rise for the honorable Judge Gavel.”
They all stood up as Judge Gavel, an older, grey-maned mare, entered.
“You may be seated,” she said, taking a seat in the judge’s bench. “The Superior Court of Tall Tale is convening today to indict Zecora, daughter of Zyreko, for treason against Equestria.”
Unlike ponies, zebras normally did not take last names unless their stature in the Zebra Empire warranted it. In a formal setting, a zebra would just add the name of her father to her first name.
Judge Gavel glanced at the tall, thin bronze stallion sitting at the prosecutor’s bar.
“You may proceed, Prosecutor Karadin. Please present the charges to be levied, to which the defendant will enter a plea.”
The stallion stood up. “Thank you, your honor. However, before I do, I wish to make a motion for a change of jurisdiction.”
The judge raised an eyebrow. “Why do you believe that the Tall Tale Superior Court should not hear this case, mister Karadin?”
The stallion said, “This is to be a treason case, Judge Gavel. As such, it should be heard in front of a military tribunal, which has original jurisdiction for crimes of treason.”
Zecora blinked, shirking back in her seat. Spitfire’s military tribunals were notorious for being kangaroo courts, little more than rubber stamps for the prosecution. The judge turned to the defense table, where Zecora and Zarek sat.
“Counsel?” the judge asked.
Zarek stood up and shook his head. “I object to this motion, your honor. Zecora, my client, is an Equestrian civilian, and not a member of the military. As such, she has the right by Royal Decree Number Seven to a trial by a jury of her peers, not military judges. The Tall Tale Superior Court is the proper venue for this trial, and has original jurisdiction over all crimes that were alleged to have been committed in Tall Tale by Equestrian citizens.”
Judge gavel nodded. “Motion is denied, Prosecutor. The Tall Tale Superior Court has wide original jurisdiction, and I see no reason that we can’t hear this case.”
The prosecutor shook his head. “Thank you, your honor, but I would like to further object to the nature of miss Zecora’s counsel that she has chosen.”
Karadin turned to Zarek and pointed his hoof at him, continuing, “Mister Zarek, until recently, was being indefinitely detained in the Tall Tale regional internment camp on suspicion of aiding and abetting zebra terrorists. They weaseled their way out of rightful convictions thanks to Mister Zarek and his legal services. He has no standing to serve as counsel. In fact, just this morning, he was being detained in a holding cell next to the defendant herself.”
Judge Gavel blinked several times. “Counselor, this is a serious accusation.”
Zarek shook his head. “While it is true that I was being detained, your honor, there was no arraignment or any formal charges levied against me at all. As all other detainees in that camp, I was being unlawfully held. I was never officially disbarred from practicing law in Tall Tale or anywhere else, and still hold a valid law license. The camp guards ever so graciously removed Zecora and myself from the camp, placing us into a dark cell for a month until today, when we were put in front of you. Evidently, they believed that they could argue for your honor to dismiss me as Miss Zecora’s counsel, leaving my client without an attorney to speak on her behalf during this important hearing.”
Prosecutor Karadin winced ever so slightly.
Judge Gavel frowned. “Is this true, Prosecutor Karadin? Have you engaged in a conspiracy to deprive the accused of her right to counsel?”
“W-well,” Karadin stammered, “the guards at the internment camp took both Mister Zarek and his client into a special detention cell after she admitted to being a terrorist. Obviously the guards weren’t legal experts, but I would assume that a lawyer who is currently being detained himself wouldn’t be able to legally serve as counsel for a—”
“My courtroom will not be turned into a circus for shady legal maneuvers, mister Karadin!” Judge Gavel snapped. “The absolute right to counsel is established in a fundamental Royal Decree. Mister Zarek was never disbarred, and evidently, there is no legal basis upon which you are holding him in the first place. Just because a jury doesn’t vote your way, doesn’t mean that the defense counsel is a terrorist. Your motion to have him dismissed as counsel is categorically denied! Any further shenanigans from you, Mister Karadin, and I’ll hold you in contempt!”
The prosecutor’s face turned beet red. He shrunk back into his seat. “Yes, your honor.”
“Additionally, I am ordering that Mister Zarek be released immediately, pending any sort of formal indictment.”
The prosecutor smiled and shook his head. “Under General Spitfire’s Wartime Command Number Fifty-Four, all zebras who are detained on suspicion of treason are to be detained for the war’s duration, unless they are formally charged as we are doing today with Miss Zecora, and then they are exonerated. Though there will be no indictment for Mister Zarek, we are still able to hold him indefinitely, without indictment, for national security reasons, pursuant to the Wartime Command.”
“This is highly irregular, prosecutor,” said Judge Gavel.
Karadin shrugged. “We live in irregular times. The law is the law, as I am sure that you can respect.”
“Very well,” Judge Gavel sighed. “Mister Zarek will remain in detention. However, whether he is able to serve as counsel is still under my discretion, not the executive’s. I am allowing him to represent Miss Zecora regardless of your objection, presuming that she sees no need to appoint a different attorney who isn’t himself behind bars. Counsel?”
Zecora turned to Zarek, and they both whispered back and forth to each other for a few seconds. Zarek stood.
“Zecora and I have decided that I will remain her attorney,” said Zarek.
The judge nodded. “Are there any other pre-trial matters which either side wishes to discuss?”
“Yes, your honor,” said Prosecutor Karadin. “Under Wartime Command Number Seventy-Three, any zebras under indefinite detention are prohibited from communicating to the outside world, to prevent any secret messages being sent to the enemy. Under this command, Mister Zarek and Miss Zecora should be denied access to stationery, envelopes, radios, or any other object that they could potentially use to communicate to the Zebra Empire.”
Judge Gavel shook her head. “I suppose that I am obliged to comply. Sustained. However, Mister Zarek will still be allowed to subpoena potential witnesses to speak on his client’s behalf through the prescribed court process. Additionally, he will be allowed to participate in the pre-trial discovery process. As either of these types of communication would be under the court’s scrutiny, neither of these should conflict with the Wartime Command’s objective, yes?”
Karadin groaned. “Yes, I suppose. And we have no further motions to raise at this time.”
The judge turned to Zarek. “Counsel?”
Zarek shook his head. “The defense has no motions at this time, your honor.”
The judge nodded. “Very well, then. Prosecutor, if you will read the charges and the evidence levied by the state against Miss Zecora.”
“Thank you, your honor,” said Karadin, standing up out of his seat. “The Kingdom of Equestria has found that Zecora, daughter of Zyreko, has engaged in terrorism and treason against Equestria. This will be proven from multiple witness accounts. Several witnesses observed Miss Zecora sneaking around past the Equestrian front lines on or during October of 2024, when she was apprehended. Before that, several acts of sabotage were committed in and around the Tall Tale area, including the destruction of the Lofty Crossing bridge on the outskirts of Tall Tale. The state will present several witnesses to this attack, as well as several camp guards who were present when Miss Zecora confessed to this attack.”
“Objection, your honor,” said Zarek. The judge turned towards him.
“Yes, Mister Zarek?”
“My client has never admitted to destroying the Lofty Crossing bridge. The prosecution has never presented any such evidence to me for any sort of review. Considering that I can produce evidence to place my client in Manehattan until very recently, I highly suspect that any such evidence will be entirely circumstantial.”
The judge turned to Karadin. “Prosecutor?”
“Your honor, we have not yet presented this evidence, because the case has yet to proceed to trial. When it does, defense counsel will have access to this evidence through the normal discovery procedures. We can place Miss Zecora at the Lofty Crossing bridge during the evening in which it was destroyed, and have several witnesses who will testify to Miss Zecora engaging in this act of sabotage. For this reason, the state wishes to proceed with charges of treason against Miss Zecora.”
Both sides remained quiet for several seconds as Judge Gavel took notes with a feather pen, scribbling down on a sheet of parchment on her desk.
“I see,” said Judge Gavel. “Given this evidence, I am persuaded that the case of The Kingdom of Equestria v. Zecora should proceed to trial. Miss Zecora, how do you plead?”
All eyes in the courtroom turned to Zecora. She sat up straight in her chair, confidently looking ahead.
“Not guilty,” she said.
“Very well,” said Judge Gavel. “Are there any further matters that the attorneys wish to raise at this time?”
No one spoke.
“Then this indictment hearing is adjourned. The trial date will be set for October 2nd, 2025.” Judge Gavel slammed her gavel down on the desk.
Zecora and Zarek sat in the detention cell.
Zecora shook her head. “That doesn’t seem like it went very well.”
Zarek waved his hoof in the air. “Are you kidding? The judge is completely on our side! You didn’t see her roll her eyes when Karadin was rattling off Spitfire’s edicts? I’ve known her for years, and she’s very suspicious of all these executive actions. During every trial I’ve had with her, she almost always rules in my favor.”
“Yes, but I was hoping that the charges would be dropped and it wouldn’t proceed to trial,” said Zecora, her head held low.
“That doesn’t really matter if it goes to trial, because they can’t win anyway,” said Zarek. “You have a solid alibi, and I’ll place you in Manehattan at that research lab when that bridge was blown up. Whatever ‘witnesses’ that they have who will say that you were at that bridge probably can’t even tell one zebra apart from the next. I’d bet you any amount of money that they think we all look the same. It’s pretty easy to discredit a witness like that.”
Zecora nodded.
Zarek continued, “Also, I’m going to subpoena so many character witnesses that it won’t even be funny. Flutterby, Apple Snack, Charity, Rainbow Brite, and whatever else you told me their names were.”
Zecora chuckled. “Not quite, but close enough.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t really subpoena the princess herself, since that’s illegal. And we can’t write her a letter thanks to that stupid Wartime Command. But once I subpoena your friends as character witnesses and they get wind of this trial, it’s only a matter of time before they go to Twilight Sparkle, she finds out you’re in here, and she comes and gives you a pardon. So don’t worry, Zecora, it probably won’t go to trial, but even if it does, we’re almost guaranteed to win.”
She smiled. “That makes me feel better.”
“Good, because we have a winning case,” said Zarek. Then, he narrowed his eyebrows. “But whatever you do, DO NOT talk to any reporters or media between now and whenever this whole thing is over. The media around here tends to try, convict, and assassinate the character of any zebra on trial for any crime. Or any pony on trial, for that matter. The media is the prosecutor’s best friend, because they taint the minds of any potential jury member before the trial even begins. It took a court order just to make them start using the word ‘alleged’ when referring to the defendant. So it’s best not to go down that rabbit hole.”
“I won’t talk to the media,” said Zecora, nodding.
Appleloosa, May 2025
The stars twinkled in the evening sky one Tuesday night at Sweet Apple Acres. Pound and Pumpkin Cake sat at the kitchen table, working on their homework.
“Pumpkin Cake.”
She glanced up from her paper, pencil floating in her magic, to glance at her brother.
“Have you gotten the answer to number five on the grammar homework yet? I’m having trouble with the sentence diagram stuff.”
Pumpkin chuckled. “You know that we aren’t supposed to share answers, Pound.”
“Aw, come on, sis,” he said, hovering over her. She swatted at him with a hoof. “It’s not my fault that you’re better at grammar stuff than I am.”
Pumpkin shrugged. “Sorry. And besides, you got athletics, so there’s that. Tell you what, I’ll help you out with grammar homework if you help me out in gym class.”
“But that’s not possible. I can’t exactly do a sit-up for you, Pumpkin,” he said.
“Well, they don’t seem to think that magic counts as ‘physical education’ over there. It’s really stupid. I’m not allowed to use magic to lift weights, and I have to use my hooves just like everypony else. What sort of sense does that make? As long as the weight is lifted, who cares how I do it?"
“Yeah, I know what you mean. They don’t let me fly when we’re running the mile. Otherwise, I’d get like, a thirty second mile without breaking a sweat!”
“Speaking of flying,” said Pumpkin, “weren’t you supposed to do your afternoon flyover of the west for the militia?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Pound Cake laughed. “But yeah, it’ll be fine if I skip it for one afternoon. I’m sure the Second Kingdom won’t sneak in if I miss a day.”
Pumpkin Cake glanced out the screen glass door. “Day? It’s more like nighttime now.”
Pound shrugged. “Well, I think that we whooped Trixie and her goons badly enough last time that they aren’t coming back anytime soon.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“Aw, come on, Pumpkin; think about it,” said Pound. “We kicked their flanks last time. Why would they try invading again?”
“I don’t know,” said Pumpkin. “They still need our town’s apples. And they’ll probably try a different way than moving by train. That was the only reason we were able to stop them.”
“True, but even if they did come here, they’d have to pass Little Strongheart’s tribe first,” said Pound Cake. “The buffalo could just run here and alert us if they see movement.”
Pumpkin shrugged. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
“You totally are,” said Pound, smirking.
About an hour later, just as the clock struck nine, Pumpkin Cake finished up her homework. She sat reading a book on the couch with Applejack and Big Macintosh by the time that Pound finished with his homework about ten minutes later.
“Man, I’m so glad I finished that junk,” he said, standing up from the table and stretching his wings. “Who even invented sentence diagrams? Is there, like, a secret factory where they come up with useless things just to give to students to do to keep ‘em busy?”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh, glancing up from the couch where he had dozed off for a second.
“Yeah, and it’s the same place that they invented cursive and fractions,” said Pumpkin Cake. “What time wasters.”
Pound Cake laughed. Then, he said, “Well, I’m going for a little fly around outside. Stretch my wings, look at the stars, all that jazz. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”
“Alrighty,” said Applejack. “If we’re asleep when you get back, try not to wake us.”
Pound Cake flew out the screen door, in the moonlight. He ascended through the cool night air, admiring the stars. There were thousands of them scattered like grains of sand on the beach, and he could see all of them since Appleloosa was far away from the big city. Nighttime was always the best time to go flying, he thought.
He heard a booming noise off in the west. His head turned as he saw bright flashes of lightning off in the distance and heard the rumbling thunder.
“Huh, I guess that the pegasi teams actually delivered on that scheduled evening thundershower,” he said aloud to no one in particular. “About time.”
Ever since the Cloud Confederacy had seceded and taken much of Equestria’s pegasi with it, the remaining Equestrian weather teams had been stretched thin. Scheduled storms were often several days late, or weeks late in many cases. In a few areas of Equestria, nature had taken over once more just as it had in the Everfree Forest.
There was another lightning strike. Then another. Then another. Lightning struck about once every three seconds.
He made a dash towards the commotion, arriving about thirty minutes later just as the thunder had begun to die down. From his height, he could see that there were no thunderclouds in the sky above. Rather, the lightning was coming from the ground, off the backs of mechanically-augmented buffalo.
There were also a few muzzle flashes from guns, and a few bursts of purple and green light from unicorn magical energy beams.
The Second Kingdom was attacking.
Little Strongheart awoke to the sound of gunfire and lightning strikes. The ground below her shook, and the smell of ozone and gunpowder filled the air as buffalo yelled and shouted in their teepees. She climbed out of her cot and poked her head out of her tent.
Half of the teepees were ablaze. A unicorn was walking around, his horn wreathed in flame, as fire shot from his horn and set the highly flammable cloth teepees ablaze one by one. Little Strongheart emerged from her tent just as he fired his burst at it.
Several buffalo were running around screaming, their fur on fire.
“Stop, drop, and roll!” Little Strongheart commanded. The unicorn arsonist turned to see her and let loose a fireball, just as she dodged out of the way.
“Retreat! Fall back to Appleloosa!” she cried, running through the camp. “Retreat!”
The buffalo who could do so got out of their tents to follow her order. But they were met by attackers who charged through their tents, casting lightning bolts towards the buffalo who tried to flee. Little Strongheart’s fur stood on end from the static as she tried to dodge the blasts.
Prairiewind jumped out of his tent, turned his horns towards a unicorn who stood in his way, and let loose a lightning blast of his own, knocking the unicorn to the ground. His path clear, he ran after Little Strongheart and the rest of the fleeing buffalo.
But they found themselves blocked off by a wall of lightning as more buffalo and unicorns descended on the camp, surrounding them. The unicorns fired their machine guns at the encircled camp.
“Little Strongheart!” Prairiewind cried over the sound of machine gun fire. “Get behind me!”
Little Strongheart jumped behind Prariewind’s larger body as bullets whizzed by her. An electrical arc raced off of Prairiewind and hit one of the attackers square in the chest. It arced off of him and hit three of the unicorns to his side, knocking them all out.
“Let’s go!” he cried, and he and Little Strongheart raced through the gap and out of the encirclement. They were now in the darkness once again, out of the firelight from the conflagration.
Little Strongheart turned back to face the smoldering camp, but Prairiewind grabbed her with his hoof.
“No time to turn back! We’ll meet the others in Appleloosa like you said,” he urged, shouting above the din behind them. “Come on!”
He tried to push her with his hoof, but she stood firm.
“Those are my tribe, Prairiewind,” said Little Strongheart. “I can’t abandon them. They’re being slaughtered!”
The booming continued, until the thunder all blended together, becoming a continual roar.
He sighed. “There’s nothing you can do, Little Strongheart. They’re surrounded. Let’s just hope that the other buffalo in our tribe who were fitted with those lightning machines remember how to use them.”
Little Strongheart shook her head, and paused for another few seconds, but finally agreed, and she ran along with Prairiewind towards Appleloosa.
“GUYS!”
Pound Cake crashed through the screen door, dashing into the living room.
“The Second Kingdom has invaded! They’re taking out the buffalo, and they’re on their way here next! Grab your guns and head for the town square!”
Pumpkin Cake’s eyes widened. Her horn lit up as her gun appeared next to her in a flash, and a helmet appeared on her head.
“I told you so, Pound!”
Pound scoffed. “Lucky guess.”
“Land Sakes!” Applejack cried. Big Mac whinnied in shock.
“We gotta get to the town right away and meet up with the militia! Big Mac, get our guns! I’ll go wake Granny Smith and tell her to get in the cellar,” Applejack commanded.
“Eeyup!” he replied, dashing up from off the couch and in the other room to the gun closet.
“Alright, Pound, let’s get to the town square and tell the sheriff,” said Pumpkin. “Hold on.”
She ran over and grabbed Pound Cake. Her horn lit up, and they both disappeared in a flash, reappearing in front of Sheriff Silverstar’s office.
Pound raised an eyebrow. “The Sheriff’s office is three miles away from New Sweet Apple Acres. I didn’t know you could teleport that far.”
Pumpkin blinked. “Me neither.”
Pound slammed his hoof on the door to the sheriff’s office.
“SHERIFF!” he cried.
“I’m comin’, hold yer horses,” he called back before opening the door three seconds later. He had a frown on his face.
“What in tartarus is it, Pound and Pumpkin? It’s loud enough tonight with that there thunderstorm the pegasi teams scheduled—”
“That’s no thunderstorm. The Second Kingdom is invading!” Pumpkin exclaimed.
Right as she said this, Little Strongheart and three other buffalo arrived, panting and sweating.
“They massacred my tribe while we slept,” said Little Strongheart. “The four of us are all that’s left. But we will stand with you until the end.”
The Sheriff blinked. He turned around, ran back into his office, and shouted over the town PA system, “The Second Kingdom is invadin’! All militia report to your posts! Civilians, hide in the shelters!”
Over the next minute, ponies rushed out of their homes with guns. The militia members all got into place. Three ponies climbed up the clock tower atop city hall, hiding behind the clock face. Another two were hidden in the church steeple’s belfry. About a dozen stood on the upper balconies of shops that had them. Another dozen stood atop the roofs of shops without balconies. Five were positioned at the train station. Twenty or so hid in the apple orchards outside of town, the trees providing cover for sniper fire. But in the dark of night, it was hard to see anything at all.
Pound and Pumpkin both went to their position on the roof above mayor’s office, on the top floor of city hall. It was the tallest building in Appleloosa, from which they could see the whole town.
Pumpkin glanced through the window and saw that the lights were off.
“Looks like the Mayor has already taken shelter,” she said.
The twins gazed out across the horizon.
“I don’t see anything, but it’s really dark,” said Pumpkin Cake. She glanced up at the thin crescent moon which was obscured by the clouds. “They sure picked a good night to invade.”
“Well, they’ll probably just walk right through the city streets,” said Pound Cake. “Then, our snipers can pick ‘em off from the rooftops. We can lob some grenades down at them, and make it very costly for them to take this town. As soon—”
A tremendous explosion ripped through the barber shop on the west side of town. An orange fireball exploded outward as ponies and barber stools flew through the air.
“What the…” Pound Cake started.
Another explosion hit the schoolhouse, just outside the playground. Teeter totters and merry-go-rounds twisted into unrecognizable shapes.
“Those monsters! Shelling a playground! There could have been little kids playing there!” Pound shouted.
“Well, not at ten o’clock in the evening,” said Pumpkin. “Point taken, though. But what you said about them trying to take this town, that wasn’t right. They’re not trying to take this town at all…”
She paused as an explosion ripped through the saloon. A few moments later, a lightning bolt struck the top of the clock tower, knocking the ponies off and onto the ground three stories below.
Pound finished his sister’s thought. “They’re trying to destroy it!”
Automatic machine gunfire erupted from the clock tower and the tops of the buildings in Appleloosa as the ASDF fired back in the general direction of where the mortars had come from. It was too dark to see anything other than vague outlines of shapes off in the distance which could have been unicorns and buffalo, but could have also been apple trees, cacti, or boulders.
“Our guys will never hit anything like that!” Pound exclaimed. “They’re just firing blindly into the distance.”
“But what else are they supposed to do?” asked Pumpkin. “We can’t see a thing.”
“Sure we can,” said Pound. “Just follow the smoke trails.”
He pointed with his hoof towards a rising wisp of smoke off in the distance. Pumpkin Cake squinted at where he was pointing, but couldn’t make out any Second Kingdom forces.
"It's still not very clear where they are," she said.
“Well, I know of one way to get a good look,” said Pound.
Pumpkin asked, “Does it involve you flying?”
Pound grinned. “Yep, and it involves you flying with me.”
Pound picked up Pumpkin as he rose into the air, getting high enough that he couldn’t be hit by mortar fire. Pumpkin turned on her intangibility spell as a precaution, but Pound shook his head. She turned off the spell.
“We have nothing to worry about at this height. Save your energy for when we’re right on top of them. I’ll tell you when,” he said.
She obliged and they flew over the town and to where they saw the smoke trail.
“Okay, now you can do it,” said Pound. He descended as they scanned the ground for hostiles.
Right below them, there were moving shapes which were dark but still unmistakably about a dozen buffalo and unicorns. A flash burst out momentarily as one of the unicorns launched another mortar towards the town.
“Pegasus!” one of them shouted. They turned their guns towards Pound and Pumpkin, firing bullets up in the air which simply phased harmlessly through them. A lightning bolt erupted from the sky above, missing them, but giving away the buffalo’s position to the rest of the ponies in the town.
Pound reached for his saddlebag and removed a grenade, pulling a pin and throwing it to the ground. As it left his hoof, it turned solid once more, and exploded when it hit the soldiers.
Pound turned back towards the town. As he was right over the town square, a lightning bolt from the east raced towards the Spur of the Moment. The twins landed safely inside of a
cafe. Pumpkin turned off the spell, her horn throbbing slightly, but the pain wasn’t too bad.
“They’re firing from the east, too! They’ve got us surrounded!” Pumpkin exclaimed.
“Okay,” said Pound. “But now we know exactly where they are. And hopefully, the others saw that lightning bolt and are aiming there, too.”
The twins rested for a few moment inside the cafe as the fight continued to rage around them. An explosion hit the roof of the mayor’s office on its south side, blowing a giant hole as glass and wooden fragments splintered everywhere.
“Wow, that was close. If we’d been up there like we were supposed to...” Pumpkin chuckled.
“I guess that we can’t go back up to the roof,” said Pound. “And I guess that they’re shelling us from the south, too. I’d bet they’re in the north and have our town encircled. What should we do?”
“Get a pegasus’ eye view of the town, and then find the best place to go,” said Pumpkin.
“Got it,” said Pound. “You stay here and recharge your magic. I’ll be back.”
Pound zipped off into the air, glancing around the town. Almost one in every five buildings was destroyed, and blazes were spreading to the ones still standing. Survivors moaned in pain and called out for their loved ones. The town’s one doctor was rushing around to as many ponies as he could treat. It was a bloodbath, and the unicorns and buffalo hadn’t even entered the town yet.
This is a massacre, Pound thought.
He returned to Pumpkin Cake. She glanced up at him, and he shook his head.
“They’re not going to stop until the the whole town is destroyed. We need to go get Sheriff Silverstar and come up with a plan.”
“Alright,” said Pumpkin. “He’s inside of the bank vault. It’s probably the only safe place left in the town by now.”
As if to accentuate her point, a lightning bolt hit outside of the building in which they sat, shattering the windows. Pumpkin tried to turn on her intangibility spell, but the explosion was too quick for her to react. Glass flew towards them, cutting them with its sharp edges.
“Aah!” Pound cried. He gazed at his front right leg. There were many shards of glass sticking out of it, just above his hoof.
“Ow!” Pumpkin had small glass shards in her belly.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, wincing from the pain. Her horn lit up as she removed the glass shards from her belly. “Didn’t hit anything important. Just surface scratches. But are you okay?”
Pound glanced at the cut area above his hoof, gritting his teeth. “It hurts like a mother,” he said. “I think I cut a tendon or something.”
Pumpkin looked at Pound’s injuries. She gasped. His leg had been cut so deep, that she could see the bone.
She shook her head. “I think it’s worse than that, Pound.”
“There’s a lot of blood,” said Pumpkin. “It’s an awful deep cut. We need to stop the bleeding. Hold on. This will hurt a lot.”
Pumpkin removed the shards from her brother’s leg. Even more blood came out from the deep cut. There was something white underneath, and she didn’t know if it was bone or not. Her horn lit up as she fired a thin energy beam from her horn at the wound. The blood grew red hot and cauterized. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as steam poured out of the blood.
“Aaah!” Pound cried. He stopped after a few seconds, once the heat went away and the pain became less, though still severe.
“I don’t know if you can fly and carry me with a wound like that,” said Pumpkin.
“Well... I can try,” he grunted. He hovered in the air and tried to grab Pumpkin as normal, but only got her front legs a small amount off the ground, but he yelped out in pain and dropped her back down.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Pumpkin. “I’ll just teleport us. Let’s get to the bank.”
The red-brick and concrete reinforced First Bank of Appleloosa building was the safest place in town. Its vault was practically impenetrable by physical means. Years of banditry many decades ago had forced the bank to invest in expensive security accommodations to stop robbers. The vault now provided a respite from the bombing and explosions.
Pound and Pumpkin reappeared inside the bank lobby, standing in front of the giant round door of the vault, which was locked shut.
“You couldn’t get... us into the vault itself?” asked Pound, pausing from the pain.
“As much as a lot of ponies in this town might think that all unicorns are thieves, I’ve never actually been in there,” said Pumpkin. “You don’t want to teleport blind into a place you’ve never actually been. That’s the first thing Zecora taught me.”
“She didn’t teach you not to teleport a wounded pony onto his hooves?” asked Pound, hovering off of the ground to take the weight off of his hoof.
Pumpkin blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect us from the blast in time.”
“It’s okay...” Pound narrowed his eyes, which were watery as he held back tears.
Pumpkin said, “Here, this might help.” Her horn lit up, and just the injured portion of Pound’s hoof turned intangible.
Pound’s jaw dropped. “The pain… it just vanished instantly! When did you learn that spell?”
Pumpkin grinned. “It’s just a regular old intangibility spell. Neat little side effect, huh? I guess that since there’s nothing there where that part of your hoof should be, your brain just doesn’t register it. You never noticed it when you were flying around?”
He shrugged. “Eh, not really. I don’t notice pain from physical exertion that much. You kinda get used to it when you fly a lot.”
“Point taken,” she said. “Anyway, that should hold you off until you can see a doctor. I’ll keep it going as long as I can. Lucky for you, it’s a small enough area, so I can probably keep the spell going for at least an hour before I have to rest.”
“Thanks so much, Pumpkin!” he said, giving her a hug.
She blushed. “Don’t mention it.”
“I won’t,” he said.
“Seriously though, don’t mention it,” she said. “Every second grader with a ‘boo boo,’ every old pony with arthritis, and every prescription pain pill addict in town will be after me if you do.”
Pound laughed.
The twins entered the vault. It was about ten meters square, and had concrete walls, floor, and ceiling, which blocked out all sound from the outside. Sheriff Silverstar, Big Macintosh, and Applejack stood inside. All of them smiled upon seeing the twins.
“Thank Luna y’all are okay!” exclaimed Applejack, running over to hug them.
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh, joining in the hug.
“Happy reunion ‘n all, but Cakes, I need a sitrep. I’ve been blind for the last hour sittin’ in this here safe with no windows, and y’all are the only two who have come since the Second Kingdom and Buffalo started launchin’ mortars at the town,” said the sheriff. “All of my other stallions have been too busy fendin’ em off, I guess. Or they’re dead.”
He grabbed a map and unfurled it on the vault floor. Then, he reached into his pouch and pulled out a fresh wad of chewing tobacco, placing it under his lip.
“We’re surrounded from all sides,” said Pound Cake, motioning with his good hoof towards the map. “They have who knows how many buffalo stirring up a lightning storm. And the unicorns are firing off mortars. We’re sitting ducks.”
Applejack, Big Macintosh, Pumpkin Cake, and Sheriff Silverstar all sat down and gazed at the map as Pound motioned in a circle around it.
“They’ve destroyed the saloon, the clock tower, the mayor’s office, the train station, and the barbershop,” said Pumpkin, drawing X’s through them with a pencil. “And those are just the ones that we know about. There are probably more.”
“Tarnation!” the sheriff exclaimed, shaking his head in dismay. "What about casualties?"
Pound said, "I'd say there are probably at least thirty ASDF dead."
The other all shook their heads solemnly.
“Land’s sakes,” said Applejack after a few moments. “That's a good chunk of our forces. This whole town’ll be a crater before sunrise tomorrow at this rate!”
The sheriff gazed around the vault, his cheeks bulging, mouth pregnant with brown tobacco juice.
“And to top it all off, there ain’t no place to spit in here! Back in my day, there were spittoons in every corner!” the Sheriff groused.
“Eh, just spit anywhere. It’s not like we can stay in this town anyway; we’ll all be blown up,” said Pound.
“I agree,” said Applejack. “We gotta high tail it. Question is, where to. Sheriff?”
“Well, there’s no stayin’ in this bank vault forever, that’s for sure,” said the sheriff. His search for a spitting place on the vault floor proven futile, he reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a key, and walked over to his safe deposit box. He unlocked the small compartment and spat right into it.
The other ponies gave him a funny look.
“What? It’s mah personal box. And there was just some old rusty revolver in there, anywho. Nothin’ like the fancy machine guns we have nowadays.”
“Why don’t you just switch to smoking?” said Pound. “It’s still a nasty habit, but at least it’s not as nasty.”
“Can we get back on the subject here?” Pumpkin Cake asked. “We’re kinda limited on time.”
The sheriff said, “Well, I say that we fan out from the town and attack ‘em from all angles. Right now, we’re here in this town which, on account of all the fires, is blazin’ bright as the flames of Tartarus, so they can see us to launch mortars and lightnin’ at us. But the more of us who can hide in the leaves of the apple trees, the more fight we can put up in the dark where they can’t see us. And they ain’t gonna attack the apple orchards as much as they have the town, since it’s the apples they invaded us for in the first place. We gotta go out there and fight.”
“Fight for what?” asked Pound Cake, raising an eyebrow. “A pile of rubble and a bunch of skeletons? The unicorns and buffalo are leveling this town, Sheriff. You didn’t get a pegasus eye view of the town like I did, so let me tell you: it’s a mess. Ponies are dying left and right. We need to evacuate and save as many civilians as we can. Retreat and live to fight another day.”
The sheriff narrowed his eyebrows, standing up from the vault floor. “I am a law enforcement officer, Pound Cake, and my duty is to defend the thin blue line! I leave all that other stuff ‘bout evacuations and civilians to the mayor, firefighters, and the doctor. Shoot first, ask questions later.”
“That’s the kind of tone that allows for police brutality,” said Pumpkin Cake, also standing up. “Shoot anyone’s dog lately, sheriff?”
The sheriff rolled his eyes. “Now who’s gettin’ off topic, Pumpkin?”
She blushed. “Sorry. But in this case, the sheriff actually does have a point. We’re a militia. We’re supposed to fight. It’s not our job to save civilians directly, just to protect them from enemy fire long enough so that they can get themselves to safety. But we have to stand up to the Second Kingdom. I agree with the sheriff’s plan of moving our remaining town militia into the apple orchards. If Zecora taught me anything, it’s that if you don’t stand up to tyrants, they’ll just take more and more and more. You said it best yourself when you convinced me to sign up for the ASDF in the first place, Pound. Besides, where would we even retreat to with all of the civilians?”
Pound nodded. “Good question. We’d go to Dodge Junction, of course. It’s miles to the east of here, and many times the size of Appleloosa. It has a hospital, and an actual Equestrian army battalion stationed nearby. We can regroup there. I can get treated, and so can all of the wounded civilians and militiaponies. Defending Appleloosa is a losing battle. There’s a reason that the Equestrian military never stationed troops here; it’s undefensible, both geographically and militarily. If we have even forty ASDF fighters left at this point, we'd be lucky. But who knows how many unicorns and buffalo are attacking us? Probably hundreds. And if Spitfire taught me anything, it’s that you pick your battles based off of strategy, not some hot-headed, losing crusade that has no chance.”
“Hot-headed crusade?” the sheriff asked. “Then what do you call some gamble to play shepherd for a bunch of civilians across the desert? Sounds mighty like a crusade to me!”
Pumpkin nodded. She said, “And think about it, Pound. Even if we somehow escaped with the civilians, where should we base our counterattack? The military base? They wouldn’t have us. Twilight wouldn’t even trust us with guns before, remember? We're an illegal group, so how do we know the Equestrians won't just disarm us, or worse, throw us in an internment camp? How about Dodge Junction itself? There’s even more civilians there than here! If we go off to Dodge Junction or hole up anywhere near there, we’d put thousands of civilians at risk from the Second Kingdom’s shelling instead of just hundreds like in Appleloosa!
"By holding the line here, we stop them from advancing any further east and threatening any more cities. Today they go for the apple orchards of Appleloosa, tomorrow they go for the cherry orchards of Dodge Junction. We stop them right here, right now, or die trying. Twilight couldn’t see that it’s a good strategy, but maybe you can.”
“If I might say a word,” said Applejack, standing up from the floor of the vault and walking over to Pound. “I appreciate yer tenacity, Pumpkin. I really do. But Pound here has got a point. Granny Smith can’t stay at the farm. We gotta get her to safety. Dodge is the closest place. They even have the real army there, too, like Pound said. The Second Kingdom took this long just to come after dinky little undefended Appleloosa; I doubt big ol’ protected Dodge Junction is on their to-conquer list anytime soon. Meanwhile, I can’t leave my granny behind, I just can’t! I’m really torn on account of conflictin’ loyalties to my town and my family, but family comes first.”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh, standing up and walking over behind Applejack and Pound Cake.
“I hope that you come with me, Pumpkin,” said Pound. “If not, I’ll have to evacuate all these civilians in a cart myself.”
Pumpkin Cake laughed, and pointed to his hoof, which she was still casting her spell on. “By yourself? You’re wounded, remember? You’re barely even in any condition to fly ten feet, let alone to Dodge, and let let alone with a dozen ponies in tow! I mean, I can cauterize a wound, but I’m no doctor. You need stitches, and you need rest. You might be able to fly for a little while, but that cauterization might not last forever, and if you exert yourself too much, you might start bleeding. If you leave, I won’t be there to help you, and you could bleed out and die.”
Pound narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”
Pumpkin blinked. “A threat? A threat? No! It’s reality! I’m telling you what will happen when I’m not there and you don’t see a doctor, and you’re trying to be superstallion and carry twenty civilians in a cart behind you all the way to Dodge Junction!”
“It’s better than me and my granny and y’all bein’ bombed to death!” Applejack exclaimed.
“Y’all don’t have to be bombed to death if you’d just help us take out these unicorns and buffalo!” the sheriff cried.
Pound cried, “There’s too many! They have lightning guns! They’re recklessly bombing the city! They’re killing civilians! You two are so heartless! Do you even care? You just want them to die, don’t you! You—”
Pumpkin Cake turned off her intangibility spell, and Pound cried out in agony as all of the pain came flooding back to his hoof.
“—And now you’re torturing me!” he yelled, gritting his teeth.
Sheriff Silverstar and Applejack, not knowing about the analgesic properties of Pumpkin’s intangibility spell, turned to each other in confusion.
“Did we miss somethin’?” asked Applejack. The sheriff shrugged.
Pumpkin screamed, “Really, Pound?Torturing? I was the one numbing your stupid hoof in the first place! And just because I don’t want to surrender to the Second Kingdom immediately, means that I all of a sudden want civilians to die and would enjoy their deaths like some sort of sadist? You’re so dense that it’s unbelievable. I won’t keep using my magic on you if you’re going to insult me and call me names!”
“Oh, I’m ‘dense,’ and I’m the one who’s... name-calling? You’re such a hypocrite. And you are a sadist... And heartless. Using my hoof pain to… try to silence me and win your stupid argument. Ignoring the deaths… of civilians in this town, to go on some losing crusade,” he said in between labored breaths. He fell to the floor, his eyes closing.
Pumpkin blinked as the sheriff stepped in between the arguing twins.
“Enough is enough, y’all. Pound Cake, as the commander of this militia, I order you to go to the doctor immediately,” he said. “Pumpkin, since you’re his sister, I order you to escort him there and make sure he’s treated. Please make sure he’s comfortable on the way there. Come find me afterwards. I’ll still be here.”
Pumpkin nodded. She picked up her brother, placed him onto her back, and headed out the vault door.
“Applejack. As the commander of this militia, I order you to stay and fight the Second Kingdom. The civilians will have to find their own way to safety. We’re gonna make it as easy for ‘em as we can, by takin’ out as many of the unicorns and buffalo as we can.”
Applejack shook her head. “You know that my granny comes first, Sheriff. And you know we can’t win this thing. Be easier for a pony to fit through the eye of a needle. I hereby quit the ASDF. I’m gettin’ Granny and high-tailin’ it to Dodge Junction.”
Big Macintosh nodded along with Applejack.
The sheriff shook his head. “Whatever you say. Nice knowin’ y’all, AJ, Big Mac. Hopefully I’ll see y’all again someday.”
He extended his hoof out. Applejack and Big Macintosh shook it, and they walked out the door.
“Well, that’ll have you fixed up good for now,” said Doctor Stitches, pulling the needle through the final stitch in Pound’s hoof. “Good thing that you came to me when you did. You’ve lost a lot of blood. Take it easy for a while. No quick flyin’ around.”
“But… we have to rescue the civilians!” said Pound Cake, sitting up from the operating table, his eyes widening. He held his hoof up to his head, becoming dizzy.
The doctor shook his head. He reached over with his hoof, pushing Pound back onto the table. “And no thinking disturbin’ thoughts. Think nice, calm thoughts so your heart beats nice and slow and those stitches don’t burst. And here, have an apple. You need to build up your blood supply again.”
The doctor tossed a golden delicious in Pound’s lap. Then, he walked into another room to tend to another of his many patients.
Pound shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t want you to die,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Don’t make me force-feed you.”
Pound waved his hoof in the air. “I won’t die; it’s just a flesh wound. I’m more concerned about the civilians, honestly.”
The operating table and the surgical instruments rattled as an explosion thundered across town.
Pumpkin groaned. “They can handle themselves. You, on the other hoof, can’t even eat that apple!”
Pound leaned his head up to face Pumpkin, rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on. I can eat the apple; I just don’t want to.”
“I’ll bet you five bits that you can’t do it,” said Pumpkin.
Pound narrowed his eyes. “You’re on!”
He wrapped his good hoof around the apple and brought it to his mouth, taking a bite. Then, he took another. In short order, he had finished the whole thing.
He grinned. “Where’s my money?”
“I’ll get it to you soon,” said Pumpkin. “Right now, I need to go hold the line with Sheriff Silverstar.”
“You won’t stay here with me?” asked Pound.
She shrugged. “And do what? Even if this office is hit by a mortar, I might not be able to react in time with my intangibility spell to save either of us.”
“Yeah, I’m living proof,” said Pound, chuckling as he held up his stitched hoof.
“I’m more useful on the front lines. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon,” she said.
“Okay,” said Pound. “Just stay safe.”
Pumpkin nodded, giving her brother a quick hug. “I will. I promise.”
Pumpkin Cake walked out of the doctor’s office, closing the door behind her. The sky was still dark, and the streets were lit only by the moon and the many burning buildings. She just hoped that the doctor’s office wouldn’t be hit before she got back.
The streets were totally deserted, with nothing but debris and a few tumbleweeds blowing about. Pumpkin turned to walk west. She passed by abandoned building after abandoned building, the smell of smoke from burning fires filling her nostrils as the rumble from explosion after explosion rattled her nerves.
Since nopony is on the streets, I guess they’ve all evacuated by themselves, she thought.
She didn’t see a single other pony as she walked for another two minutes. But then, in the middle of the street, about twenty meters away, a shadowy stallion stood. He was entirely still, and was staring right at Pumpkin Cake.
She froze in place, not sure what to do. It was too dark to make out who this stallion was. All she could see was firelight from a burning building reflected off of a pair of green goggles that he wore over his eyes.
Then there was a flash of light. The stallion was gone.
The unicorns are in the town! she thought. I have to warn Silverstar!
Her horn powered up, and she vanished as well.
“I’m telling you, sheriff, he was a unicorn. He teleported away. Right on the main street of Appleloosa. They’re sending in their forces right now. We need our snipers back in position in the town.”
Sheriff Silverstar shook his head. “That don’t make no sense, Pumpkin. They’re still blowin’ the place to smithereens!”
Another explosion went off in the town, shaking the ground beneath the bank vault.
“See? They just bombed right then. Now why in tarnation would they go and send in their unicorns when they ain’t done bombin’ yet?”
Pumpkin shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I saw. A pony was in town, staring straight at me, and he disappeared in a flash of light.”
The sheriff chuckled. “And I’m telling you that Buckwheat here hasn’t seen any unicorns or buffalo in the town, except you and Little Strongheart’s crew, that is. And he’s a sniper who’s been out there until just five minutes ago when he came back to me, so he would’a seen any of them if they were here.”
Buckwheat, an obese, beige pony with a yellow mane, the sole other occupant of the bank vault, nodded. A sniper rifle was slung over his saddle, and he had a single wheat stalk protruding from his mouth.
“Are y’all sure that this stallion wasn’t just an earth pony who got caught in an explosion? Did you see his horn?” asked Buckwheat.
“The flash of light was too bright to have been an explosion, and there wasn’t a boom,” said Pumpkin. “But I didn’t see a horn. I don’t know for certain he was a unicorn, but I’m pretty confident he was. All I know is that we can’t stay in this bank vault. This town could be captured at any minute.”
“I agree with you there,” said the Sheriff, nodding. “We’re gonna go to the Farmstead residence right on the western edge of town. There’s an old barn we can hide inside of, and get a good vantage point of the buffalo and unicorns. Buckwheat can take out a whole army with that silenced rifle, as long as they don’t see him or the muzzle flash.”
Buckwheat nodded. “The trick is gettin’ there,” he said. “We’re ‘bout a mile away.”
“Well, I might be able to teleport us some of the way there,” said Pumpkin. “But I’m low on energy, and three ponies over a mile is pushing it.”
“Whatever you can do would be great,” said the sheriff.
“Okay,” said Pumpkin. “Here goes. I’m going to try to get us into the street.”
She pursed her lips as her horn started to glow blue. About ten second passed as her horn glowed brighter and brighter. Then, suddenly, she and the others disappeared in a flash of light.
Pumpkin reappeared down the street. She glanced up and saw that she had only made it about a hundred meters from the bank.
“That’s all?” asked Buckwheat, glancing around and chuckling. “I coulda ran it in as much time.”
“Try harder next time,” said Silverstar.
“Sorry,” said Pumpkin Cake, putting her hoof up to her throbbing horn. “I’m just a bit tired. I’ve been using a lot of magic all evening.”
An explosion burst off in the distance.
“Well, giddy up!” said Buckwheat. “Else we’re li’ble to get blown up out here!”
“Okay,” said Pumpkin. Her horn powered up once more as she narrowed her eyes. Sparks flew from her horn. It took about ten seconds, but finally, she disappeared. She reappeared about three hundred meters down the road, and grinned.
“See guys, that one was...”
She paused. Sheriff Silverstar and Buckwheat were still further down the road; she hadn’t managed to take them with her.
“That’s not—"
An explosion tore up the street about thirty meters in front of her. She was knocked back before she could react.
“Aah!” she cried, as her back slammed into the ground.
Pumpkin coughed as dust got in her eyes. A sharp pain shot up through her back as she realized that she had hit it on the dirt road. She breathed heavily, the wind knocked out of her from the explosion. There was a loud ringing in her ears, and dirt clods fell back to earth.
“Pumpkin Cake!”
She glanced up as Buckwheat and Sheriff Silverstar ran over to her. Sheriff Silverstar was in front, galloping madly, and Buckwheat was hurrying along as fast as he could, heaving and panting as the rolls of fat on his big belly jiggled along with his hoofsteps.
Silverstar reached a hoof out and grabbed Pumpkin Cake, lifting her to the ground.
“I’m… fine,” she panted, as Sheriff Silverstar ran up to check on her. “Just... a little... bruised.”
“Sounds like you got the wind knocked out of you,” said Sheriff Silverstar.
“I gotcha,” said Buckwheat. He reached over and picked up Pumpkin Cake with his hoof, placing her atop his back.
“You… don’t… need to… do that…” Pumpkin said.
“Like hell I don’t. Y’all need to rest. I’ll carry you,” said Buckwheat.
“But… you…” Pumpkin started.
Buckwheat chuckled, trotting along as quickly as he could towards the Barnstead residence, as Pumpkin blacked out.
Another muffled gunshot awoke Pumpkin Cake. Her head jolted up, and her eyes darted around. She sat on a wooden floor. Her eyes adjusted to the dark slowly. Hay bales and farm equipment surrounded her.
“Glad you’re still with us, Pumpkin,” said Sheriff Silverstar. “You passed out while Buckwheat carried you on his back.”
“It was the cutest thing I ever done saw,” said Buckwheat. He glanced over from the window of the barn over towards Pumpkin, giving her a toothy smile full of holes.
Pumpkin shuddered at the stallion’s creepy gaze.
“Look, she’s blushin’,” said Buckwheat. “Ain’t that cute. Sheriff, why did y’all let this pretty young thang join up with an actual militia, anyhow?”
“She and her brother have done a mighty lot more for me and this town than you have, Buckwheat,” Silverstar snapped. “Why don’t you get back up there in the hayloft and get to snipin’ again. Have you even hit a darn one of ‘em?”
Buckwheat growled. “I’ve had over thirty confirmed kills!”
The sheriff chuckled. “Confirmed by your own ego, maybe.”
Buckwheat grumbled and headed back up to the hayloft, where he sat down on the wooden boards and aimed his scope out into the distance.
“He’s actually really good,” Silverstar whispered to Pumpkin. “I ain’t never gonna tell it to his face, though. His ego might get so big it’ll explode. But you should watch the master at work.”
Pumpkin glanced over as Buckwheat’s muzzle flashed, and a muffled gunshot whimpered from his silenced sniper rifle. Off in the distance, there was a scream.
“Got one!” Buckwheat exclaimed.
“Hush!” Silverstar urged. “Don’t give our position away, consarnit!”
“Sorry.”
Buckwheat returned to his position, and Silverstar turned to Pumpkin Cake.
“Ain’t much for us to do except lay low and let Buckwheat do his job,” said Silverstar. “You go on back to sleep, now. Recharge your magic batteries, or whatever y’all unicorns have inside them horns. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”
Pumpkin Cake nodded. She sat her head against a hay bale. The hay was scratchy against her mane, and flies buzzed in her ears, but she soon dozed right off.
“I haven’t seen any since sunrise.”
“Positive?”
“Yup.”
The sheriff chuckled. “Well, maybe your fat ass scared ‘em all off, then!”
Pumpkin’s eyes opened as sunlight streamed through the barn from the east.
She sat up. Her back was still sore, but her horn no longer hurt, and she felt that at least some of her magical energy had returned.
“They haven’t gone!” she exclaimed. “They’ve captured Appleloosa, and there’s unicorns in the town! I saw one last night, but you wouldn’t listen. You’re looking the wrong way. Give me that scope!”
Her horn lit up as she took the scope from the rifle. She darted over to the other side of the barn and looked through the scope, eyeing the center of Appleloosa off to the east.
Nopony was in town.
“See, there’s nopony there, neither townsponies nor unicorns,” said Buckwheat. “I’m a lotta things, miss Cake, but I ain’t stupid. I’ve been checkin’ that side of the barn, too. They’re still shellin’ the town. Ain’t nothin’ to worry y’alls pretty little head ‘bou—”
Another explosion burst in the town. Pumpkin trained her eyes towards the building that had been hit: the doctor’s office. The roof was entirely collapsed as smoke poured out.
“Pound!” she cried.
“Aw, they blew up the doctor’s!” Buckwheat lamented. “Now where am I gonna get all mah pain pills?”
“My brother was in there!” Pumpkin yelled. “I have to go back and save him!”
The sheriff glanced at the building, then shook his head. “It looks pretty wrecked to me. I don’t know how an injured pony like him could survive that. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “If there’s even a chance, I have to try, sheriff. You know that.”
Before the sheriff could further object, Pumpkin Cake’s horn lit up and she disappeared.
Pumpkin gazed at the wreckage of the doctor’s office. The front of the building was entirely destroyed. The roof had collapsed, with broken wooden boards and splintered fragments everywhere. It had been about a minute since the explosion, but she didn’t hear or see a single pony either in the doctor’s office or elsewhere in town.
“But he might still be in there,” said Pumpkin.
She walked forward. Pound’s room had been on the right side of the building, towards the back.
I’ll walk around the side to the spot, then turn intangible, go in, and grab him. Simple, she thought.
She took a step forward, but then paused as a sharp pain shot through her flank, right on her cutie mark.
“What the…”
Pumpkin turned to her flank. It wasn’t bleeding. The pain had vanished the second after she had felt it. And there was a single metal dart sticking out of her flank, with a red feathered shaft. And now, her flank felt totally numb.
“Why was I hit wiv a dawt? What ih gong ah—.”
Her mouth drooped, and she fell to the dirt. She tried to move her hooves, power up her horn, or do anything. But it was no use. Her body would not respond to her commands. She was entirely paralyzed, and couldn’t even blink.
There were many hoofsteps behind her, crushing the sand below as they drew nearer.
A male voice said, “Confirmed. Target is down. Safe to proceed.”
The hoofsteps came even closer, and then circled around the front of Pumpkin, until she saw their source. A blue pony towered over Pumpkin, with a devilish grin on her face.
“Looks like I’ve finally captured you, Pumpkin Cake,” said Trixie.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long, time,” said Trixie, smiling widely. Trixie’s horn lit up as Pumpkin Cake floated through the air.
Fear flooded Pumpkin’s mind, along with questions. How did Trixie find her? What was in store for her? What happened to Pound Cake?
Trixie said, “I’m sure that you have many questions. I have many questions as well. We can talk on the train as soon as the sedative wears off.”
Trixie turned to a tall, dark unicorn stallion. Pumpkin instantly recognized him. He was the stallion who she had seen in the street the night before.
“Excellent aiming, Johner. You can take her from here,” she said.
The purple glow surrounding Pumpkin was replaced by a red one as the stallion grabbed her. He removed the gun from Pumpkin’s holster and gave it to Trixie.
Johner grabbed something out of his saddlebag: a metallic, ring-shaped device. It had several wires and lights on it, and Pumpkin had no idea what it was. The stallion slipped it over her horn. Then, he got out some rope and bound Pumpkin’s legs together, tightening the rope so hard that it burned.
“Can’t have you using your magic or your hooves once this sedative wears off,” Johner said flatly.
He walked with Pumpkin towards the train station as the blood pooled in her legs and they swelled, the rope cutting off circulation.
Trixie shouted, “Search the rubble, starting with the doctor’s office! Kill the survivors!”
Pumpkin’s heart sunk. That was entirely intended for her to hear. They were going to find Pound, and if he wasn’t dead, he would be killed soon. She wanted to scream, to yell. To even be able to blink her eyes would be nice. But her body was still as rigid as a board.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the train station. Johner tossed her into a maroon boxcar and slammed the door shut with a clank. Pumpkin Cake was now entirely in pitch darkness, save for a single lantern in the center of the boxcar. Two shadowy armed guards stood on either side, their rifles trained on her.
Pound Cake could hardly breathe. A sharp pain shot through his wing. He opened his eyes and saw a glimmer of light shine down from the boards of the collapsed ceiling. As he turned his head, he saw that one of the beams had landed on top of his wing.
“Ow!” he moaned in pain. He reached over with his good hoof and tried to remove the board.
It was easier than he thought, and after a few seconds, he got the board off of his wing. He flapped it. It still worked, but it hurt him every time he flapped it. He had had wing injuries like this before: it was a dislocation. It wasn’t anything permanent, but he would have to go to the doctor to get it relocated. Not this doctor, though, since his office had just been blown up.
Suddenly, a voice shouted, “Search the rubble, starting with the doctor’s office! Kill all survivors!”
Pound’s heart skipped a beat. The Second Kingdom had entered the town. They had won the battle, and now were killing the survivors. He gazed up at the ceiling. He would have to escape and fly away before they found him.
He stood up on the operating table. Other than the beam that had fallen on his left wing, he could maneuver quite well. The room was mostly still intact, except for the ceiling. He grabbed his saddlebag and his rifle from the ground next to the operating table, pulling them out from beneath a fallen ceiling tile.
There were several boards and beams blocking Pound’s way to fly through the ceiling. He spent the next half minute moving them, frantically trying to make a gap big enough for his body to fit through. As he moved the last one, he noticed that all that remained was a thick, fallen rafter that sloped upward at a 45-degree angle.
“That’ll be perfect,” he said.
He stepped up onto the operating table, careful not to put too much weight on his broken hoof as he stood up. Then, he placed a hoof onto the rafter. It was steady. He placed another, and wrapped his hoof around the side. Using his good wing to propel him, he scrambled up the rafter and out of the hole in the ceiling.
As he turned his head towards the town square, he saw five armed unicorn stallions with wheelbarrows and shovels at the front of the doctor’s office.
Now or never, he thought. Wings, don’t fail me now!
He flapped both of his wings, his dislocated left wing going at about half normal speed and protesting in pain. He’d flown on a dislocated wing before. It wasn’t fun, but he could still flutter along. He flew straight up, and then over the town, looking for cover. The unicorns didn’t seem to notice him; they were all too preoccupied with digging out the rubble.
Pound Cake landed atop a tall, flat, wooden roof, his wing throbbing. A train whistle blared as he gazed up at the clear blue sky above. He would have to rest for a few minutes before he went to find Pumpkin or any of the others. He had no idea where his sister or anypony from the ASDF was, and he was in no condition to go flying around and checking.
A light illuminated the inside of the boxcar as Trixie entered. The train started to move, and the whistle blared.
“Hello again, Pumpkin Cake. You should find the sedative is starting to wear off right about now. Let’s have a little chat.”
Pumpkin blinked. Then, she blinked again. It was difficult to do, but at least it was something.
“Wuh hahuh,” she said, able to move her vocal chords but still not able to move her mouth.
Trixie’s eyebrows raised as she tried to make sense of what Pumpkin said. “Oh, what happened? Well, we found your brother. He died when the roof fell on him. He sure made excellent bait to lure you out with, though.”
Pumpkin let out a yell as best as she could, but it just came out as a squeak.
Trixie laughed. “Yes, we bombed the doctor’s office this morning because we knew that you’d be a sucker and would come running to save that stupid pegasus ‘brother’ of yours. He’s not truly your brother, you know: he’s an inferior pony. I guess that you just don’t understand that, though, since you’re a race traitor.”
“Fof,” Pumpkin said.
“Yes, you are a race traitor. You failed to do your racial duty and farm for the Second Kingdom. You have gotten cozy with earth ponies in a village where your kind isn’t even welcome. You have attacked the Second Kingdom and stolen weapons from us. You call a pegasus your brother. You are the very definition of a race traitor.”
“The why duh you jus kull muh,” said Pumpkin Cake.
Trixie’s eyes widened. “Kill you? Why would I ever do such a wasteful thing? Come now, Pumpkin Cake, use your brain. Why would I go to all of this trouble to sedate and restrain you if I just wanted to kill you? No, I’m going to keep you alive to study you. That intangibility spell of yours is quite unique in the world, and it has great potential for military application. As you will recall, that is my job as the Magical Research Minister.”
“You’d be wasting your time,” said Pumpkin, her voice now fully returning, “because I’m never going to help you!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I imply that you had a choice?” said Trixie, grinning. “Because you don’t. The Second Kingdom is counting on a decisive military victory. Equestria has been putting up far too much of a fight. I’m not sure if you read the papers, but the front lines have been rather stagnant as of late—the undefended town of Appleloosa notwithstanding. You are but one pony, but imagine if we had entire battalions who could use intangibility magic. They’d be immune to bullets and bombs, and the Second Kingdom would be invincible! You will teach us your spell and help us to gain a decisive advantage, whether you like it or—”
“You killed my entire family! My parents, and now my brother!” Pumpkin shouted, leaning up. She channeled energy into her horn. “DIE, YOU—”
A sharp jolt shot through Pumpkin’s horn, into her skull. She fell flat onto the ground.
Trixie laughed, pointing her hoof at Pumpkin Cake. “Look at how pathetic you are! I was hoping that you’d be foolish enough to try to use magic. Now you get to see what happens. That little device on your horn can detect magical buildup that happens before a spell, and it’ll send a shock down your horn before you can cast it, preventing any magic.”
Pumpkin tried reaching with her hooves to her horn, but they were tied firmly together.
“Don’t worry,” said Trixie. “There will be plenty of chances for you to cast spells in a controlled, escape-proof laboratory environment once we get to the lab in Mareicopa. Then, I will get to use science and find out exactly what makes you tick, why you are able to cast a spell that nopony else can.”
“Maybe it’s the same reason that you can’t even teleport, you fraud!” said Pumpkin Cake. “Science, huh? Is that what they call torture over there in the Second Kingdom? Is that what you call those buffalo? ‘Science?’”
“Yes, actually,” said Trixie, holding out her hoof to the ceiling. “Science is the investigation of the natural and magical world for the betterment of ponykind, and it isn’t ‘torture.’ When you or somepony else is refusing to cooperate, it is my duty to encourage you to by any means necessary, including negative reinforcement, which may include physical or psychological pain. If you want to call that ‘torture,’ then fine. But as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me with your toothless death threat, you are merely one pony. There are millions who may rely on the results of our scientific tests. Who are you to hold back the greater good?”
“‘Greater good?’ You’re just as bad as Twilight,” Pumpkin scoffed.
Trixie laughed, then shook her head. “Appealing to my dislike of the Princess of Equestria won’t get you out of this, Miss Cake. Do you honestly expect me to believe that you have any sort of compulsion about Equestria’s dear leader?”
“Just because I fight the Second Kingdom, doesn’t mean I have to like Twilight Sparkle,” Pumpkin scoffed. “She’s a corrupt thug just like you! She was going to have me killed when I was in that barn, she blew up all those children in Canterlot, she runs internment camps, and she abandoned Appleloosa, all for the ‘greater good.’ You kidnapped me, killed my brother and my parents, mutilated those buffalo, and are going to have me tortured, for the ‘greater good!’ But the ‘greater good’ is just an evil lie that lets you and Twilight sleep at night while you do terrible things. Funny how the ‘greater good’ never seems to harm you or her. Funny how the ‘greater good’ never requires any sacrifice from you: just from other people. What a coincidence, huh?”
“Utilitarianism is a fine philosophy, Pumpkin Cake,” said Trixie. “Though I despise Twilight Sparkle, I certainly wouldn’t have made those decisions any differently than her, if I were in her position. However, I do find it hilarious that you and her don’t get along. It very much warms my heart.”
A gleeful expression crossed Trixie’s face. Pumpkin remained silent. After a few moments, Trixie spoke once more.
“I don’t expect you to be loyal to the Second Kingdom or personally fight for us, Pumpkin Cake. You’ve already shown by your actions that you could never fit in with our glorious unicorn nation. However, I do expect you to help our war effort through science.”
Pumpkin turned her head away from Trixie, staring at the wall.
Trixie said, “Now, if we’re done with our little chat, I’m going to have you sedated and unconscious until we get to the research laboratory in Mareicopa. Can’t have you seeing exactly how we’ll get to the room where we’ll be holding you, but I’ll tell you that I have personally designed it to be impossible to escape, even for you.”
Pumpkin Cake scowled. “Go to hell.”
Trixie smiled. “Excellent. Guards!”
One of the guards walked up, and before Pumpkin could react, pierced her belly with a syringe. Five seconds later, she was out.
Pound Cake didn’t feel great, but he felt marginally better. The pain in his hoof and wing was still strong and throbbing, but at least he could think.
Okay, I need to get a gun. Hopefully I remembered to put mine in my saddlebag, he thought.
Pound Cake reached into his saddlebag and grinned. Not only was his gun inside, but there was also a bottle and a piece of paper with scrawled hoofwriting.
“To Pound: Take one every six hours, or until the pain subsides. —Doctor S.”
Painkillers! He opened the top and popped one into his mouth. With his parched, dry mouth, it stuck in his throat, but he got it down after a few seconds. He instantly felt better. Maybe it was psychological, because he doubted that the pill worked that fast, but he’d take what he could get.
“Alright, now where was I,” he said.
He glanced down at the town, observing his surroundings. Appleloosa was a complete wreck. The face and top of the clock tower was completely blown out, with brass gears clicking endlessly and aimlessly, attempting to move a second hand that was no longer there. The barber’s shop was still on fire a few buildings down from where he sat, the sickly sweet smell of burning hair gel and aerosols filling the air. Dozens of other buildings were entirely blackened shells or demolished, and only a few were still standing. Bloodied bodies of his fellow ASDF members littered the streets. Off in the distance, the apple orchards still stood.
I should burn the trees to the ground, just to teach the Second Kingdom a lesson, thought Pound Cake.
But first, he had to see what was going on with the unicorns. A group of three unicorns and three buffalo walked down the streets, carrying guns and lightning cannons. They trained their guns on a group of a half dozen earth ponies who walked, shackled together in chains. As the procession got closer, Pound Cake saw an unmistakable green coat and white hair among the ponies. It was Granny Smith.
A larger, unchained group of about fifty ponies followed behind them. There were guarded by two unicorns who pointed assault rifles at them. Pound Cake could make out a bright red and a faded orange pony among them: Applejack and Big Macintosh.
Pound crouched down on the flat-topped roof, hoping that the angle of the view from the ground to the top obscured him from the view of the unicorns below, while still allowing him a peek at the town. The procession continued to the eastern end of town. He removed his binoculars from his pack, and trained them on the ponies. They had come to a stop, right in front of the old gallows.
Appleloosa hadn’t used the death penalty for many years, but the gallows still stood on the edge of town as a solemn reminder of the town’s bloody past, and what was in store for anypony who decided to terrorize its residents as Specter the Stallion and Lightning Louise had done.
A stallion’s voice boomed over the town.
“These six ponies were captured with weapons and explosives after the Second Kingdom entered Appleloosa, and they refused to surrender. Attempting to kill a soldier of the Second Kingdom or the Buffalo Nation is punishable by death.”
Pound shook his head. Granny Smith wasn’t in the militia. They were just killing random ponies to terrorize the residents. That, or she was sacrificing herself by being the fall man; perhaps she took the weapons from Applejack and Big Macintosh so that they wouldn’t be caught with them.
“This town and the surrounding apple orchards now produce only for the Second Kingdom and Buffalo Nation. All apple producers are to surrender nine-tenths of their produce to the MDJ line for distribution to the unicorns and buffalo. Any earth pony who refuses to work, tries to escape from town, or doesn’t pay his fair share of apples to the Second Kingdom and the Buffalo Nation at harvest time will be executed by hanging, and the other residents of the town will be forced to take up his share of the burden.”
The crowd grumbled and shouted.
“Murderers!”
“Thieves!”
“Fascists!”
“SILENCE!” one of the buffalo boomed, as a warning lighting bolt came from the sky and struck his horns. The crowd quieted down.
“This is retribution for the hundreds of years of mistreatment of our people by the earth ponies of this town!” the buffalo shouted. “Who here is willing to defend the actions of your ancestors?”
Nopony in the crowd spoke for about five seconds.
“We’re sorry for everything, for kicking the buffalo off their lands years ago. We didn’t mean it, we just needed a place to live! Please forgive us for everything we’ve ever done!” one of the ponies shouted.
A unicorn fired a small magical blast at the pony, knocking him to the ground.
The buffalo walked over to the stallion, who returned to his hooves and put a hoof in front of his face.
The buffalo shouted in his face, “That is the sort of thing that a sixteen-year-old girl says when she is in trouble with her parents! A weaselly, non-specific excuse for an apology. ‘Please forgive me for everything I have ever done wrong, father.’ But her behavior never changes because her words are hollow! It is time for reparations to be paid by this town to the buffalo, starting today!”
The stallion who had been hit with the magical beam shrunk back behind the other ponies, but the unicorns and buffalo didn’t do anything else to him.
The unicorn who had earlier been making the speech shouted, “Hang the first prisoner!”
One of his subordinates levitated a key over to her hoofcuffs and unshackled her, but kept his gun trained on her.
“Ha! I ain’t afraid to die! I’m older than anypony here! I’ll laugh in your face when you hang me!” Granny Smith shouted.
Pound Cake’s ears perked up as the soldier pushed Granny Smith over to the stand on the gallows.
I’ve got to do… something… so sleepy… he thought. His pain was gone, but he was incredibly drowsy, his eyelids drooping down.
He stole a quick glance at the bottle of pain medication.
MAY CAUSE DROWSINESS
“Dammit!” he muttered under his breath.
He was fading fast. Before he completely passed out, he would have to act.
Time to take a gamble, he thought.
Pound Cake slowly climbed to his hooves, stretching his tired back. He only had one shot at this, and he couldn’t fail.
The pain pills worked quite well. As Pound flapped his wings, he didn’t feel a thing in his dislocated one, and his hoof wasn’t throbbing anymore. None of the unicorns seemed to notice him as he flew, since they were preoccupied with arranging the rope for the execution. As he took a sub-machine gun in his hooves, all of the training from General Spitfire and Sheriff Silverstar came rushing back to him.
Keep your head straight. Bring your wings down all the way. Use the element of surprise. Aim down the iron-sights. Don’t fire until the last minute. Remember the ricochet.
He closed in on the unicorns and buffalo who stood in front of the nooses. Fifty meters. Forty. Thirty. When he was twenty meters away, he slowed down for the approach and looked down the iron sights.
One of the unicorns raised his hoof, pointing towards Pound Cake. He was too late, and found himself full of holes a fraction of a second later. He flew back with a rat-a-tat as Pound turned to the buffalo and sprayed them with machine fire before they could react. Ponies in the crowd screamed.
The remaining unicorns trained their rifles on Pound Cake, but even in his drowsy state, he was too fast. He zipped away, flying behind a building as bullets whizzed past and hit the dirt around him, knocking up a pile of dust.
He lifted his head up, observing the chaos as he struggled to keep his eyes open. The crowd was going wild. They yelled and screamed, struggling with the buffalo and unicorns and throwing things at them. Applejack and Big Macintosh rushed over to Granny Smith, who had slammed her hoof into the executioner’s head during the chaos, knocking him to the side. Applejack grabbed Granny Smith and ran off.
“Stop this madness, or we’ll shoot!” the unicorn speaker yelled, pointing his gun at the unruly crowd.
“You ain’t gonna kill us! You need us to farm!” one shouted.
“Fascist!”
It seemed that in the ensuing chaos, the remaining unicorns had entirely forgotten about Pound. Their bluff had been called, and they were attempting to gain control of the rowdy crowd full of apple farmers and other residents without shooting at them.
“Pound Cake!”
He glanced up to see Big Macintosh, who had ran off from the crowd and was behind the building where Pound was.
“Hey… Big Mac…” said Pound Cake.
The last thing that Pound Cake remembered before being passing out was Big Macintosh heaving him off of the ground and onto his back, and galloping off.
Pumpkin Cake awoke in a darkened room. Other than a single, distant ceiling light, there were no other lights. She found that she wasn’t chained or restrained at all, and could move around freely. She put her hoof up to her horn. They had even removed the horn ring. She chuckled. How exactly were they planning on keeping her in here?
“Glad to see that you are awake, Miss Cake.”
Pumpkin turned to see Trixie walk through and the lights in the room flip on. She winced, covering her eyes with her hooves, as her eyes weren’t adjusted to the dark.
“You’ve made a big mistake coming in here,” said Pumpkin. She channeled her energy into her horn and readied an energy pulse against Trixie.
It didn’t work. Pumpkin glanced at her horn confusedly. The band wasn’t around it, so her magic should work.
“Still trying to take vengeance on me, hmm? Well, I admire your tenacity, but your magic won’t work for now. Let me give you the tour of this room. You see how there are metallic poles in each of the four corners?” asked Trixie.
As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, Pumpkin glanced around the room. It had a high ceiling, about ten meters tall. The width and length of the room was about twenty by thirty meters. The room was entirely bare, except that in the four corners there were tall, metallic poles which extended five meters into the air. Lights flickered on and off of them, and each pole ended in a metallic orb which pulsed white with electricity. The concrete walls were covered in a copper wire mesh, except for the door which Trixie had entered the room through, and an observation window which measured about two by five meters, and was located towards the ceiling of the room.
“Those poles project an electromagnetic field which disrupts all energy discharges, including magic,” said Trixie. “It’s called a Faraday cage, and this entire room is a giant one. When we want to permit you to use magic, such as when we are studying you, we will lower the poles remotely, thereby breaking the disruption field.”
“Then how—”
“Will we prevent you from escaping? Simple. This entire room is deep underground. It used to be a dragon shelter before we re-purposed it to study non-compliant magical subjects, such as yourself or the buffalo. If you try to walk through the walls when the field is down, you’ll find that there is only dirt and rock on the other side, and there is nowhere to go. I guess that you could always re-solidify in the rock and kill yourself by suffocating or crushing, but I’m also guessing that you’re not the suicidal type.”
“I wouldn’t give you the pleasure,” Pumpkin spat. She gazed over at the observation room and door that Trixie entered through.
“Ah, I see that you’ve found the only exit,” said Trixie. “Don’t try escaping that way, though. That hallway is over twenty meters long and very well guarded. As my scouts who have observed you have told me, you have trouble moving fast when your body is intangible, so I doubt that you could make it before your spell wears off and we subdue you and return you to this room.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything,” said Pumpkin. “I’m still not cooperating, though.”
Trixie shook her head. “I was afraid of that. What a shame. But you will eventually: everypony has a breaking point. Hopefully for your sake, I won’t have to help you find yours.”
Trixie walked over to the door, opened it, walked in, and closed it. A few seconds later, she appeared in the observation room, and Pumpkin could see her through the glass.
A voice spoke over a loudspeaker.
“We are lowering the field. You will see a metal orb descend from the ceiling on a string. Please use your intangibility magic on it.”
There was a metallic whirring as the four poles lowered. Pumpkin glanced toward the ceiling as a small, metallic orb lowered, suspended by a string. It was about the size of a basketball.
Pumpkin Cake grinned as she got an idea. Her horn lit up, and a blue glow surrounded the ball. Trixie and another observer in the room busily scribbled on clipboards for a few moments, but then Trixie’s voice came over the loudspeaker again.
“There is a sensor in that ball. I can tell that you are simply using your levitation magic on it,” said Trixie.
Pumpkin powered down her horn and didn’t move for a second.
Trixie sighed, and put her hoof to her head. “I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to do this. Snips, Snails! Get in there and convince the subject to cooperate with us.”
The door opened and two younger unicorns entered. They were older than Pumpkin, but not as old as Trixie. She thought that she recognized them from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place them.
The brown one, Snails, carried a glass jar in his magic. There were dozens of yellow things inside of it.
“These are killer wasps,” said Snails, grinning as he pointed to them with his hoof. “Bred ‘em myself just last week!”
“Trust me, you don’t want to get stung by one,” said Snips.
Trixie’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “They deliver a very painful sting that causes a prolonged death. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Of course, we have the antidote to the killer wasp venom, and if you are so obstinate that you don’t use your spell to protect yourself, and you allow yourself to be stung, and you somehow summon the discipline not to use your spell to numb the pain, we will inoculate you with the antidote at the last minute and try another method of forcing cooperation.”
“Good luck, you’ll need it!” said Snips. He and Snails walked back towards the door.
Just as they closed the door, Snails opened the glass jar with his magic, leaving it in the room with Pumpkin.
Pumpkin Cake’s heart skipped a beat. Would she cooperate to save herself the agony, or would she remain defiant in the face of the pony who had taken everything from her except her dignity?
The wasps climbed over the sides of the jar, buzzing about. It took a few seconds before they realized that they were free to leave. But once they did, the wasps slowly started buzzing out of the jar.
Hollow Shades
The town of Hollow Shades stood beneath groves of willows and sweet-gum trees. The Foal River passed right through the center of town, with rickety wooden bridges crossing it. In the river and near the banks, cattails stood in the murky waters, and catfish swam around them. An alligator sat atop a rotten log, its brown scales running together with the bark. He licked his lips and slid into the water as he caught a glimpse of a passing school of fish.
There were about three hundred old wooden buildings and shacks near the center of town, all of them on stilts to protect from flooding from the nearby Foal River basin. The river basin was a swampy and marshy area.
A few miles outside of town, an old wooden shack stood, overlooking an unusually large amount of flat, dry land for this area of Equestria. Rows and rows of sugar beets, carrots, potatoes, turnips, and other root crops stretched out for several hundred meters. The farm was surrounded on all sides by willows, sweetgums, cattails, and other wildlife. It was an oasis of produce in an otherwise untamed area, and owned by one Hayseed Turniptruck.
Hayseed Turniptruck was a cream-colored stallion with an unkempt dark-brown mane, tail, and brown eyes. He bore a rather uncanny resemblance to Pound Cake, though he was in his thirties, an earth pony, and had crooked teeth and freckles. Atop his head sat a green baseball cap, and on his back was a set of dirty farm clothes.
Turniptruck used to live in Canterlot, washing windows for a living, but when Blueblood came to power and kicked out all of the non-unicorns, he moved back east to his family farm in Hollow Shades. After his parents passed away a few years ago, he had come to run it himself, along with his siblings and cousins. They often worked in the back of the house, tending to the fields.
Today, however, Turniptruck stood in front, out near the dirt road in front of the farm, with thirty other ponies. They were mostly earth ponies, but a few unicorns and pegasi were there as well. They held misspelled picket signs and formed a line around the front of the property.
Off in the distance, a horn sounded as a small fleet of bulldozers, backhoes, and other construction machines drove down the dirt road, towards the farm. They were led by a black limousine carriage pulled by two pure white earth stallions.
“Boo!” the crowd of ponies shouted as the fleet drew nearer, finally coming to a stop at the other side of the street, opposite of Turniptruck’s property.
From the cab of the limousine, the jet-black maned Filthy Rich emerged, a giant smile on his face. He was flanked by two beefy earth pony security guards who wore sunglasses, though it was more cosmetic than for eye protection under the grey, overcast sky.
Two pegasi flew down, snapping pictures with cameras as Rich walked across the street to the jeering crowd.
“Y’all ain’t wilcome on this laind!” Turniptruck said. “I already said it once, and I’ll say it agin; I ain’t turning my fawrm into a megamart!”
“That’s right!” the crowd shouted. “Go back to Manehattan!”
Filthy Rich chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course you’re not turning your property into a megamart... That’s because it’s now my property, and I’m turning it into a megamart!”
He reached inside of his suit jacket and pulled out a legal document, which he passed to Turniptruck.
Turniptruck laid his eyes on the document, and shook his head.
“I cain’t read. Somepony who can read, tell me what this says!”
A literate pony in the crowd walked over and glanced at the document, and read it aloud. “By order of Princess Twilight, for the sake of economic development, I hereby declare eminent domain over farmer Turniptruck’s land and order him to vacate immediately. He will receive a sum of money appropriate for the land’s fair market value.”
Turniptruck blinked. “I don’t want money; I want my land!”
“The law is the law,” said Filthy Rich, as he motioned for one of his bodyguards. The bodyguard reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a wooden sign, and Filthy Rich stuck it into the ground in front of the picketers.
“Boo!” they all shouted.
“Now, now, I guarantee you all that as soon as my megamart comes in, you’ll all be shopping there. You’ll love it!” said Filthy Rich, motioning with his hoof towards the farm. Then, he turned to Turniptruck.
“There are fifty thousand ponies who live in Hollow Shades County. Who are you to deny them access to a megamart? All of your neighbors have already sold their land.”
“It was my parents’ land! It’s my land!” Hayseed Turniptruck proclaimed.
“Not anymore,” said Filthy Rich. He put his hoof between his lips and whistled for his limousine.
He walked over to it, then turned back to the protesters.
“Now, I hope that you all will be civil and allow for this construction to proceed without a hitch. I would hate for there to be an incident.”
The crowd booed and jeered as a bulldozer drove onto the property line. Filthy Rich chuckled as the earth stallions carried his limousine away.
They’ll all be shopping here within a month, he thought.
The sun had just begun to set over the city of Canterlot as Sparkler the unicorn walked down the pavement, near the foothills. This part of the Canterlot metropolitan area was full of high end suburban neighborhoods, posh golf courses, and tranquil lakes. Light from an electric streetlamp illuminated her way as she walked on the sidewalk, glancing at the stone mailboxes.
“Number twenty-five… number twenty-six… number twenty-seven. This is it,” she said, looking down at a piece of paper that she held in her hoof.
Sparkler’s horn glowed for a brief fraction of a moment, and then went out, as she turned invisible. She quietly walked up the long driveway towards the front of the house.
Now to just get inside, she thought. Avoiding detection was the easy part for Sparkler. Getting into places was a bit of a challenge, though. While invisible, she normally had to follow ponies through doors just as they were about to close, slinking in behind them.
Sparkler walked up to the front porch of the house, and lifted up the corner of the doormat. No key. She had nurtured a vain hope that perhaps, the occupants would be foolish enough to put a spare key in the easiest hiding spot to guess, but they didn’t. Nopony ever did. In fact, in all of her years of spying, and in all the houses she had snuck into on her missions, she had never actually found a spare key hidden under a doormat. Far more of them had been hidden atop the doorframes, or inside of vents, or even under lawn gnomes. It would even be fair to say that the supposedly “common” doormat hiding spot wasn’t very common at all.
As she contemplated where else the key could be hidden, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud talking, coming from behind the house. She walked off of the porch and into the grass, looping around into the backyard. Luckily for her, the grass hadn’t yet fully grown in for the spring. The short blades crunched under her hooves as she walked as slowly as possible. She would have avoided making sound by levitating herself or teleporting, but she wanted to save her magic. She might have to remain invisible for an hour or more, which was quite magically taxing already. So, instead, she just slunk slowly.
Invisibility had its perks, but far more often than not, it was impracticable for several reasons. When walking in tall grass, dry grass, shag carpet, mud, dry sand, or snow, she might as well not even have bothered, since it would leave hoofprints or make noise. Ponies had a distinctive natural scent, and guard dogs could be trained to detect invisible intruders. And, of course, there were always magical suppression fields in highly secure areas.
Hopefully not tonight, she thought.
She circled around to the back deck of the house, where she spied her targets.
Flim and Flam sat on deck chairs, smoking fat cigars and drinking whisky.
“A toast, my brother, to today’s triumphant capture of Appleloosa!” said Flim.
“Here, here,” said the mustachioed Flam. They raised their glasses and toasted. “Though our battlefield successes have been minor as of late, we’ll take what we can get.”
“They have thousands and thousands of apples, which is the important part,” said Flim. “It’ll bring our food reserves back up to ‘cautious’ from ‘dire.’”
“Those Equestrians have no scruples. They destroyed our Flatlands farming operations, so whatever towns we take, they deserve to lose. Once this war is over, we’ll be a net food exporter!” said Flam, waving his hoof in the air.
Yeah, and I’ll be a world-famous supermodel, thought Sparkler.
While Flim and Flam were laughing and talking, she snuck up onto the deck, careful to bring her hooves down onto the wood as quietly as she could. She stole a glance at the deck table and saw the alcohol that they were drinking.
It was 90-proof scotch whisky, almost a full liter bottle. She had no idea how much the Flim Flam brothers normally drank, but given their lanky build, they were probably lightweights. Sparkler could drink pretty much anypony that she met under the table, but if she drank even half of that bottle at once, she’d be dead, or at least in the hospital.
That’s what I’m counting on, she thought.
Sparkler crept over across the deck towards the sliding glass door to the Flim Flam brothers’ house. In a stroke of luck, they had left it open, so she didn’t need to worry about having to pry it open without them noticing.
After entering the house and rounding the corner, Sparkler found herself in the Flim Flam brothers’ kitchen. It was a gorgeous kitchen, with stone floors, granite counter tops, mahogany cabinets, and cast iron sinks.
Who said that scamming doesn’t pay?
Sparkler stole a glance out the window and saw that the brothers weren’t looking in her direction, instead facing towards their backyard. So, she opened each of the cabinets until she found what she was looking for… another bottle of scotch, along with all sorts of other liquor: cider, vodka, scotch, gin, rum, scotch, absinthe, wine, and scotch. These brothers sure liked their scotch.
One of the bottles of scotch floated out of the liquor cabinet and over towards Sparkler. Once it was about five centimeters from her body, it turned invisible, too. Though Sparkler couldn’t hide other ponies with her, she could easily make smaller objects turn invisible. She opened the bottle, and the strong smell wafted into her nostrils, making her dizzy.
That’s the stuff!
Were she not on a mission, she might have considered indulging herself, but she needed to keep her wits about her and stay on guard.
Sparkler exited the house and continued onto the back deck once more, where Flim and Flam were chatting up a storm.
Sparkler glanced at the bottle of scotch on the table. While she had been looking for their liquor cabinet, the brothers had already wiped out a quarter of it.
“And then I told her, I says, hey, look, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Flim.
“What a story, Flim,” said Flam. He and Flim both laughed, slapping their knees at something. Sparkler had no idea what was so funny, but it was the perfect distraction. She poured about an eighth of her full scotch bottle into their quarter-full one while they weren’t looking.
“You deserve another shot for such a funny anecdote!” said Flam. His horn turned green as he opened his scotch bottle and poured Flim another shot.
Flim’s eyebrows raised, as he glanced at the bottle. “You know, I could have sworn that… we had drank more?”
Flam shook his head. “As long as we don’t drink more than this whole bottle, we’ll be fine. You remember how much we drank last time, yes?”
“Two bottles, but that was over a whole day,” said Flim.
“If two bottles equal one day, then one bottle equals one night,” said Flam. “Can’t you do math? You’re the economic minister, you know.”
“No, you’re the economic minister! Everypony knows that mustaches make you smarter,” said Flim.
Flim pointed to his brother’s brilliant, flowering red mustache.
That thing will need its own casket, thought Sparkler.
Over the next hour, she continued to surreptitiously pour more alcohol into the bottle that Flim and Flam were pouring from, careful not to add too much at once, lest they notice. By the time that they reached the end point of the bottle, they had drank the equivalent of two bottles.
“I’m way, way, way too drunk right now,” said Flim. “Someth-thing ish wrong, Flammuh.”
Flam narrowed his eyebrows. “You may… have a point, dear brother. I don’t….”
His voice trailed off.
“What were we saying?” said Flim.
“I don’t… what… Flom… no…”
Flam collapsed onto the deck, his eyes closing.
“Flam? Flam? No…” said Flim, climbing out of his deck chair, but stumbling towards the ground.
After they hadn’t moved for about ten minutes, Sparkler walked over to them and checked their pulses.
Flim was dead. There wasn’t any questions about hit. His heart had stopped beating. Flam, on the other hoof, was still hanging on. His heart was beating very slowly, but irregularly. Sparkler sighed. Why couldn’t this have gone according to plan? They were both supposed to be dead!
You’re identical twins who weigh the same and drank the same freakin’ amount of alcohol. I watched you. Why aren’t you dead? she fumed.
In a fit of frustration, she kicked Flam in the stomach with a hoof as hard as she could.
Flam’s eyes opened as he looked for his assailant, but couldn’t see the invisible Sparkler. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he gagged. Brown liquid came out as he weakly vomited, flailing around on the deck. But he stopped moving after a few moments.
Sparkler checked his pulse. He was dead, and had choked on his own vomit.
Guess that he just needed a little extra push in the right direction.
Alcohol poisoning. It killed thousands every year, and was the most common cause of accidental deaths in Equestria. If one of Blueblood’s ministers were to die of it, it wouldn’t look suspicious, and wouldn’t alert Blueblood to anything, allowing the plan of succession to go off without a hitch.
Of course, two ponies getting alcohol poisoning on the same evening might seem a bit odd, but the Flim Flam brothers were identical twins. They did everything together. They scammed together, built farm equipment together, advised Blueblood together, binge drank together, and now, they had died together. It seemed plausible to her, so hopefully it would seem plausible to Blueblood.
Their deaths had to be ruled an accident. If there was even the slightest hint of an assassination, it would throw a wrench in Sparkler’s plans to install Fancy Pants as president. When Fancy Pants took the reins of power, there couldn’t be any question as to his legitimacy. The last thing that she needed was for him to finally get into power, but for the military to doubt his loyalty and conduct a coup, or for him to be assassinated.
Now, she just had to wait and see if she had done a convincing job.
Unicorns dressed in green first responder clothes put the bodies of Flim and Flam onto stretchers, as the chief of police of Canterlot and a police lieutenant stood on the back deck.
“Both of them on the same night? What a shame,” said the chief, shaking his head as he glanced at the deck where the brothers had died. “Imagine, losing your twin brother to alcohol poisoning and then drinking yourself dead out of sadness.”
“Uh, chief, I’m pretty sure that they both died at the same time, by accident,” said the lieutenant, scratching his head.
“Right, that could’ve happened, too,” said the chief. “Guess we’ll never know.”
“Are we going to pursue it further as suicide, or rule it an accident?” asked the lieutenant.
Sparkler held her breath.
The chief shrugged. “It’s a bit of an odd coincidence, but I see no reason to suspect foul play. Both of them just got carried away with drinking. Maybe they challenged each other to do shots, or they lost track of how much they had had.”
He motioned towards the open liquor cabinet in the kitchen. “I mean, look at how much booze is in there, lieutenant. They were drunks, and had it coming to them.”
The lieutenant groaned. “Looks like Blueblood will need new economic ministers to hoard alcohol all to themselves while everypony else is on rationing.”
The chief chuckled. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
Sparkler breathed a sigh of relief as she snuck out the open front door, following behind the stretcher. Once she was out of sight of the house, she turned visible once more, her mission complete. Of course, she would have to let sufficient time pass between the deaths of Flim and Flam and her next target. Blueblood might start to get suspicious if his advisers started dropping like flies, even if it appeared to be accidental. But in three or four months, she should be good to go.
“Two down, two to go,” said Sparkler, a grin crossing her face.“You’re next, Trixie Lulamoon.”
High Security Pre-Trial Detention Center, Tall Tale Courthouse
Zecora sat inside of a small, cramped cell. The bed was suspended from the concrete side of the cell by metal chains. The mattress stank and was as hard as a rock. The cell roof leaked water, making the room musty. Overhead, the light flickered on and off, and the bars had a rusty, brown sheen. She sat down on her bed, staring off at the ceiling. Whatever happened to her right to a speedy trial? It seemed to be taking forever for her to get her day in court.
Zarek had assured her that the discovery process would be over soon enough, within three months. For a high-profile spying and treason case, the state would want to press charges as quickly as possible in order to serve as an example to any other would-be zebra spies. Zarek had assured Zecora that, by courtroom standards, three months was “lightning fast” for a case to proceed to trial. As for Zarek himself, he was allowed temporary freedom of movement in the context of the discovery process, but was under armed guard at all times.
The discovery process had been going well, from what Zarek had told her. The prosecution had almost zero evidence, and was scrambling to find anything to convict Zecora other than hearsay and circumstantial evidence. They had already petitioned District Judge Gavel to push back the trial until July, which she had granted.
But there had been a slight snag in the process. The previous day, a newspaper reporter had snuck past the guards and into the room that held Zecora’s cell. He stood outside the bars, snapped a picture of Zecora, and asked her intrusive, probing questions. She had refused to answer most of them, since Zarek had told her not to talk to the press. Nevertheless, he had sworn that the article about Zecora would appear on the front page of the newspaper the very next day, whether she answered him truthfully or not, so she’d better provide her side of the story if she wanted the world to hear it. She only opened up a little to him, and was very careful in what she said, but by the time the guards hustled the reporter out, his notepad was full of scrawled notes despite the fact that Zecora had said less than fifty words to him in total.
Zecora dreaded the news as one of the guards walked up to her cell. “This was in the paper today, zeeb. Thought you might want to see it; looks like it’s about you.”
She leaned up as the guard tossed her a rolled-up newspaper through the bars. She gasped as she opened it to the front page, which contained a giant candid photo of her face.
TALL TALE TIMES “Bringing you the stories that other papers don’t dare to cover!” April 22nd, 2025
EXCLUSIVE: ZEBRA SPY AWAITS TRIAL By: Yell O. Journalism
What’s black and white and red all over, that isn’t the Tall Tale Times? That’s right: a no-good zebra spook with the blood of hundreds of innocent ponies on her hooves! Her name is Zakora, and she is currently awaiting trial at the Tall Tale District Courthouse. Our reporter was able to snag an exclusive interview with her just yesterday.
Though she spoke few words, her traitorous intent was audible through her silence. She leered at our interviewer with steely eyes which told a tale of her years of training and determined, religious devotion to Emperor Zaporozhye himself. That’s right, the self-proclaimed “god” Zaporozhye, who makes outrageous claims with no evidence to back them up.
On the rare occasions that she did speak, she spoke in cryptic rhymes, which we can only assume is some sort of secret spy code. She also refused to either confirm or deny her involvement in acts of sabotage.
The Equestrian prosecutors have assured the Tall Tale Times that their case against Zakora is rock-solid. She was caught sneaking around in the dark, and despite her silence with our interviewer, had previously issued a brazen confession of her crimes of murder and sabotage to multiple guards at a detention camp, local camp guards say.
Our sources have confirmed that Zakora has obtained counsel from none other than the well-known zebra defender Zarick, whose own loyalties to Equestria are in doubt. The lawyer has secured acquittals for an astounding 100% of his zebra clients charged with crimes. But with so much at stake, and with so much evidence, Zarick’s winning streak may soon come to an end. Zakora’s guilt or innocence will be determined in a few months, and we promise to keep our readers apprised of the situation.
Other stories this issue: Abandoned Appleloosa: the small town that Equestria left unguarded against fascists, Pg. 2 “We’re all being watched when we sleep,” Alex Pones, Pg. 3 A ghost pony that can walk through walls? Photographic evidence, Pg. 4
Prior issue corrections: None.
“Zecora, you idiot!”
Zecora glanced up from the paper as Zarek came storming into the cell room, stomping his hooves.
Zarek frowned. “Do you know why I gave you that little riddle about what a spy would say, back in the camp? Because I wanted to see if you were smart. But apparently, you’re a moron who can’t follow directions!”
He pulled out the Tall Tale Times with his hoof and shoved it into Zecora’s face. “How many times have I told you never to talk to the press, Zecora? Dozens? Hundreds? And yet you did anyway!”
“But I—” Zecora started.
“—And you didn’t just talk to any old press, but the worst newspaper in Equestria, the Tall Tale Times: a truthless, terrible tabloid! They couldn’t even spell our names right! Maybe if you spent half of the brainpower that you normally use to come up with those stupid rhymes of yours, you’d have stopped to think of what a bad idea that was. Look at the libelous garbage they’ve printed. I’ll sue them into the next eon for this!”
“I hardly spoke to the reporter, Zarek,” said Zecora. “He burst in here and started asking me all sorts of questions, and threatened to write a damning story about me unless I spoke, but then he wouldn’t listen to a word that I said.”
Zarek shook his head. “I see. Well, you shouldn’t have said anything at all, but what’s done is done. Not that your silence would stop them printing lies, anyhow. I’m sorry for yelling at you, and hopefully no one takes that story too seriously. The Tall Tale Times has some major credibility issues, and even if anyone did believe them, the state still has no evidence. By the time I get done making my case in court, even the most ardent anti-zebra racist would have to vote not guilty if he had even a shred of honesty in him.”
“ZECORA!”
Zecora and Zarek turned around to face the door leading into the cell room. In walked Princess Twilight, smiling wide.
“Princess Twilight,” said Zecora, a slight grin on her face. Zarek’s face was somber.
Twilight had the guard open the cell bar door, and she rushed in and gave Zecora a hug. The guard walked out of the room.
“I thought that you had been killed, that maybe your ship had sunk or something!” exclaimed Twilight. “But then I saw your picture in the paper, saw you were on trial, and I granted you a full royal pardon: you’re free to go. It’s so good to see you all in one piece!”
“Yes, my heart still beats, it’s true. But I have much to discuss with you.”
Zarek scowled. “She sure does have a lot to discuss, Princess Twilight. Miss Zecora might not be willing to give you an earful, but that’s my job. I’m Zarek, her lawyer.”
Twilight extended a hoof to him. “Nice to meet you, mister Za—”
Zarek shook his head, denying the princess’ hoofshake.
“Where the hell do you get off imprisoning innocent zebras without evidence, without a warrant, without due process, and without a trial, Princess? How do you keep them locked up inside a dark internment camp for months on end with the same food every day, with barbed wire and armed guards all around? It’s a violation of basic rights and dignity! My client had to pretend to be a vicious murderer and admit to crimes she never committed, all just to get her day in court! Is this what our country has come to? If so, then we’re no better than the Zebra Empire or the Second Kingdom. Why are you subverting the justice system in this country?”
Zecora remained silent, a stern look on her face which she directed at Twilight.
“N-No, I’m not subverting anything, you guys!” Twilight stammered, backing up. “We have an independent judiciary in Equestria, as I’m sure you know. They decide what cases to bring, not me. And the military decides who to put in that camp, not me. I thought Zecora had died on her mission: that the ship capsized, or that Zaporizhia’s guards had foiled the assassination attempt. I had no idea that she was in an internment camp, let alone going to be put on trial for treason, until I saw it in the paper today! Honest!”
Zarek shook his head, and pointed a hoof at the Princess. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that the Princess of Equestria herself gets her news on big-name trials from some rag like the Tall Tale Times? That in your daily military briefings, you aren’t appraised of all of the captured zebra ‘spies?’ What kind of idiot do you think I am, Princess? What kind of idiot do you think my client is? Quit insulting our intelligence.”
“It’s the truth! Zecora is a good friend of mine, and I would never leave her in jail intentionally, especially since she was on a mission before!” exclaimed Twilight. “I get my news from the paper just like every other citizen of Equestria!”
“Oh sure, and I gather evidence for my clients from a tabloid, too,” Zarek scoffed. “Either you’re lying to Zecora and me, or you’re incompetent as a princess, and Equestria is doomed. I don’t know which is worse.”
Zecora nodded. “Twilight, there is no need to lie to Zarek and me. Just admit what you did and say that you’re sorry.”
“If you’re even capable of it,” said Zarek. “Perhaps you believe your own lies at this point.”
Twilight frowned. “Look, I’m not going to argue with you, Zarek. I came here to see my friend Zecora, not her lawyer. And Zecora, I’m very sorry about how you were treated, about how all of the zebras are treated. I had no idea it was that bad. I’m going to improve conditions at those camps, and shut them down as soon as the war with the Zebra Empire is over. But since you never got to complete your mission, Zaporizhia is still alive and carrying on the war. I still need you to go and—”
“Shut up!” shouted Zarek.
Twilight blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I said ‘shut up,’ as in ‘close your mouth and stop talking!’” Zarek raged, his face in a contorted scowl as he poked his hoof into Twilight’s chest. “Why Princess Celestia chose to appoint such an incompetent, stupid, naive child as you to take her place as Princess of Equestria, I’ll never know. But let me spell it out for you in terms as black and white as my coat: Zecora is never going to assassinate Zaporizhia now! Do you know why?”
Twilight stammered, “Uh… because Zecora d-doesn’t... want to b-be my friend any m-more?”
Zarek screamed at the top of his lungs, “NO, YOU ABSOLUTE SIMPLETON! Do you have no practical knowledge of how the world works? Do you really think everything in life boils down to a high school popularity contest of who’s-friends-with-who? Zecora would kill Zaporizhia even if she swung by your palace and killed you along the way; that’s how much she and the zebra immigrants in Equestria despise him and his self-serving claims to divinity. We are true patriots and defenders of freedom in Equestria. You don’t have to be a pony to stand for truth and justice, despite what you and your racist, bigoted generals may say. You are a tenth the ruler that Celestia ever was, ‘Princess’ Twilight.”
Twilight’s eyes started to mist up, though she held back the tears. “But why... why not kill him?”
Zarek said, “Your would-be ‘secret assassin’ will never kill Zappo, because she just had her picture published in a newspaper with global circulation that sells millions of copies a day. And since world leaders these days apparently get all of their intel from tabloids, he’ll see her coming from a mile away!”
“I would still love to kill the emperor, this is true,” said Zecora. “But Zarek is right: my photograph in the Tall Tale Times is too big a clue.”
Twilight shook her head, wiping her eyes with her hoof. “Then I’ll have to rethink the strategy for the entire west coast theater. I’m not sure how much longer Tall Tale and Vanhoover can hold out against this Zebra onslaught. Killing the emperor and sending his forces into disarray was our plan’s lynchpin.”
“Not my problem,” said Zarek. “But I can’t imagine that if he wins, Zaporizhia would treat the zebras in Equestria any worse than you do. In fact, Zecora and I are going to counter-sue you and Equestria and take this all the way to the Supreme Court of Equestria if we have to. We will get all of the zebras released from those camps at once!”
Zecora nodded. The color drained from Twilight’s face.
“You mustn’t sue Equestria! That’s a mistake. It’s true, there are some innocent zebras like you or Zecora in those camps, but there are also many spies and saboteurs in there. I know for a fact that some of them are spies, but we could never get a jury to convict them. The standard of guilt on the battlefield is a lot lower to meet than it is in a court of law. We have to keep these zebras imprisoned for the greater good of Equestria. There are only a couple thousand zebras in those camps, but there are hundreds of thousands of zebras and millions of ponies on the west coast who could all die if we let the spies out and they commit more sabotage. We’ll let every zebra go as soon as the war is over.”
“Better a hundred guilty people go free than one innocent person be locked up,” said Zarek. “Zecora will sue and have her day in court, and I will crucify your despotic state on the stand until the justices are in stitches laughing at what a circus you’ve made of our once-proud Equestria. I will end your farce in court and stop your maniacal usurpation of power! You may have absolute power as a monarch, sending your generals out to do whatever they want. You may have a rubber-stamp parliament strong-armed by a cabal of corrupt, self-enriching oligarchs like Filthy Rich or Jet Set. But the judiciary shall not bow to your junta as long as I draw breath!”
Twilight shook her head. “A supreme court case would be terrible for Equestria right now. It would divide the nation at a time that we’re already in a war. Please don’t bring the case. We don’t need to be divided by discord; we need to be united in friendship.”
Zarek turned his head away from Twilight in disgust. With a knot in her stomach and a pleading look in her eyes, Twilight turned to Zecora, but Zecora simply shook her head, frowning with disappointment at the princess. Zecora took a step towards Twilight and put her hoof on the princess’ shoulder.
“We were,” said Zecora.
Twilight’s heart sank in her chest as Zecora drew her hoof back and turned away.
Zarek motioned towards the door with his hoof. “Now if you’ll excuse us, my client and I were discussing our lawsuit against Equestria.”
Twilight opened her mouth to speak, but realized that she didn’t have anything else to say. She’d laid all of her cards on the table, but nothing more that she could possibly say would make things right again. She’d lost Zecora as an ally and a friend, and gained a powerful foe in Zarek.
Instead, she walked out of the room as quickly as she could, hiding herself from view as tears finally began to flow freely from her eyes.
What have I done?
May 2025, Dodge Junction
“Alright, I’ll take sector five today, around Mareicopa. I hadn’t searched there yet, but since Pumpkin Cake is a unicorn, she might have gone there. I don’t know why, but maybe—”
“Nope,” said Big Macintosh. He and Applejack sat under the shade of an umbrella, drinking alcoholic apple cider at the beer garden of a local tavern as the sun hung off in the eastern sky, shining through the cracks between the buildings of the city. On the table, a large map of the Equestrian Southern desert stood with markings on it.
“Why in tarnation would Pumpkin have gone to Mareicopa instead of Dodge Junction? She knew that Dodge Junction was our fallback position,” said Applejack. “I know she wanted to stay and fight, but even she woulda seen the situation was hopeless and retreated to Dodge Junction, not Second Kingdom territory. I mean, unless she’s bein’ held as a POW or somethin’, but she can walk through walls, so how could that be? She’d escape and come right back here, which is exactly where we’ve been lookin’ and ain’t turned up squat.”
Pound shook his head. “I don’t know, okay? But we have to try, for her sake. She could still be alive.”
“Sugarcube, you know that I’m really honest, right?” said Applejack.
Pound Cake nodded.
Applejack threw her hooves in the air. “Well, I can’t hide my feelins’ anymore. This is a hopeless mission. We’ve searched far and wide for two weeks. Big Mac and I have asked every bellhop at every hotel and every conductor of every train in Dodge Junction, and walked half the streets, and still haven’t found her. If she’s alive, she ain’t in this city or in Appleloosa. Already searched seven ways from Sunday.”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh, taking a giant swig of cider from his mug.
“Dodge Junction is a big city,” said Pound, shaking his head. “She could be lost here, too, so keep looking, while I go out west and do flyovers.”
“No,” said Applejack, shaking her head. “Big Mac and I are plum tired, Pound. We’ve been helpin’ you look for almost two weeks now. We want to go to Manehattan to stay with our Aunt and Uncle Orange; Granny Smith and Braeburn are already there. The Oranges are kindly rich ponies and will let us stay at their luxury penthouse as long as it takes to get back on our hooves and rebuild our lives. You can come, too. You’ll even get to meet Babs Seed and some of our other city-slicker relatives.”
Pound Cake shook his head. “I have to go look. I can’t stop. I already lost Pumpkin Cake once, and I’m not losing her again.”
“You gonna look forever?” asked Big Macintosh.
Pound Cake blinked at the question, rather verbose by Big Macintosh standards.
“Well, no, I mean…” he scratched his head in thought. “I plan to give up eventually, just not right now. I’m not going to turn this into some crusade and look for the rest of my life or something, but I feel like two weeks is—”
“Plenty,” said Applejack. “You know what Sheriff Silverstar told me yesterday?”
“What?” asked Pound Cake.
“Each day that a missing pony ain’t found, the chance of findin’ ‘em alive is cut in half. By day three, it ain’t a search and rescue mission no more: it’s a recovery mission. We’ve been searchin’ for two weeks. All you’re gonna find at this point is a corpse, assumin’ she ain’t in some unmarked mass grave of ASDF bodies.”
“But she could still be alive!”
“And I could hit the jackpot the next time I play the slots,” said Applejack. “I might think I will, but I really won’t. Trust me, as somepony who’s fought and beaten a gambling addiction; all that really happens is that I’ll gamble my life savings away because, all in all, the house wins. You’re fightin’ the odds and losin’, Pound Cake. It’s always just one more lever pull, just one more drink, just one more day looking for somepony who, if I had to guess, I’d guess is dead. And that’s the honest truth. It ain’t the truth you want to hear, but it’s the truth you need to hear.”
“Quit crusadin’, Pound,” said Big Macintosh.
Pound Cake remained silent, closing his eyes as he rested his hoof on his forehead.
“Big Macintosh and I have bought tickets to Manehattan on the midnight train,” said Applejack. “We got all day before it comes, though, and you can bet that we’ll keep searchin’ this city for Pumpkin until the very last minute. But we’re not missin’ that train, Pound. We’re gettin’ on and startin’ our new lives: movin’ on from the old.”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh. He and Applejack got up and paid for their drinks.
“I hope we see you at the train station, or back in Manehattan if you wanna fly to the Oranges,” said Applejack. Big Macintosh nodded.
Pound Cake remained silent as they both gave him a hug and walked off down the street.
Pound Cake soared west across the desert sands, his mind clear except for the single-minded determination which had driven his every action for half a month: finding his sister at any cost. He flew in a trance-like state, following the path of the railroad tracks. Though the desert was vast, he had kept his search limited to areas which were survivable and close to a water source. Further to the north there was a minor tributary to the Everfree river which he had spent two days searching. To the south, there was a giant salt lake near the border of the dragon and changeling-infested Badlands. He didn’t know if Pumpkin could live off of saltwater, but maybe there was a magic desalination spell that he didn’t know about, so he had searched around there, too.
His thoughts drifted towards memories as he neared closer to Appleloosa, eyeing it off in the distance. He fondly recalled his fourteenth and fifteenth birthdays, his time spent in school, even his training with the militia. Even though it was an earth pony town, it had been the closest thing to a home that he had had since Spitfire. Obviously, it was the first place that he had searched for his sister, though only at night when he could sneak around the occupying unicorns and buffalo undetected.
He neared the town and the broken, burnt-out shells of the buildings. He was too high to see with his naked eye, so he looked through his binoculars at the town below. Some of the buildings were more badly damaged than others; while three or four were only missing windows, others were entirely demolished. Several of them were being repaired, and had scaffolding surrounding them. The apple orchards off in the distance had come into full bloom, and the white flowers from spring had fallen off and given way to the green summer leaves and small, green apples which would ripen and turn red over the course of the year.
Pound Cake chuckled as he trained the binoculars on the bank. Or, rather, the bank vault, which was the only part of the bank still standing. The solid steel door didn’t have a single scratch on it, and would probably remain standing until the end of time. He sighed as he recalled his argument with his sister inside that vault on that fateful night two weeks ago. He’d called her a crusader for wanting to stay and fight when the situation was utterly hopeless, instead of coming to Dodge Junction with him and living to fight another day.
He could almost hear Pumpkin’s silvery voice in his ears, speaking in the sarcastic tone that she often took when arguing with him.
“Now who’s on a crusade, Pound?”
Pound chuckled, and then sighed. He hadn’t followed his own advice that he’d given his sister: know when to back down. Know when you have a lost cause. Applejack and Big Macintosh were right. It was time to accept his loss and move on with his life. If she was still alive somewhere, it was beyond his reach, and she’d have to come find him.
A loud sound caught his ear as he trained his binoculars towards the town square. Armed unicorn guards stood all around the town square, their weapons trained on some hundred earth ponies: likely the entire remaining population of the town that hadn’t fled to Dodge Junction or died in the battle. A single unicorn stood on the steps of the ruined town hall, a whip in his magic, as he flagellated an earth pony who was tied up on the charred remains of the door. Even from as far up as he was, Pound Cake could still hear the crack of the whip and the pony’s cries of agony.
His blood came to a boil in anger as everything stormed in his mind at once. He cursed the unicorns for killing his sister and enslaving the town, and cursed himself for being so blind to their suffering. For the last two weeks, he had looked for his sister at the expense of everything else, including his desire to save these ponies and evacuate them. He hadn’t been able to do it that night, but now his wings worked and he was healthy.
Though his sister was almost certainly dead by now, he would avenge her death. He would turn his pointless crusade to find her body into a meaningful mission to snatch the earth ponies from the clutches of slavery and toil, and ensure that the entire town was worthless to the Second Kingdom forever. But to do that, he would have to do something that he had never done before.
The earth ponies on the ground stood petrified as they were forced to watch the severe whipping that the masked pony was delivering to a recalcitrant apple farmer. The hungry farmer had been discovered eating apples on the job, a severe offence. All apples were to be turned over to the Second Kingdom, and they were to determine how much the farmers got to keep.
“Stop! I beg you!” he yelled as the unicorn stallion ignored his pleas, cracking his whip at the stallion’s bloody back. Drips of blood pooled on the steps of the town hall. Any time that one of the townsponies looked away in horror, one of the unicorn guards would use his magic to wrench the pony’s head back towards the direction of the whipping. Any time that one of the townsponies closed his eyes, a unicorn would telekinetically pry his eyelids open. They were all made to watch in horror as a warning to never defy the Second Kingdom.
One of the ponies gazed up at the sky for a moment. Though he expected his head to be wrenched back in short order, it wasn’t. Instead, his heart skipped a beat as he saw white smoke hanging in the sky, spelling out a message.
“EARTHS TO D.J. TRAIN”
“What in tarnation!” he called out, pointing skyward.
The whipping stopped for a moment as all of the ponies and buffalo gazed at the sky, trying to decipher the message. Excited muttering erupted from the crowd.
“What do y’all think it means?”
“Earths? Earth ponies?”
“D.J.? Dodge Junction?”
One of the buffalo shot off a lightning bolt in the air, and the crowd quieted down.
“Silence!” he shouted.
One of the unicorn guards yelled, “This is not an official message! It’s some pegasus punk skywriter playing a prank! Ignore it!”
The hooded punisher continued whipping the pony, though the townsponies were now all looking at the sky, and the few unicorns didn’t have enough magic between them to keep all of the townsponies’ heads and eyes facing the whipping.
“Watch the punishment, not the sky, or your rations will be halved!” the unicorn guard yelled once more. But it was no use, as a new message appeared just as the old one faded away.
“EQ RESCUE COMING”
“We’re saved!” yelled one of the earth ponies. “Equestria is rescuing us!”
“To the train station!” yelled another.
The ponies scrambled away to the south, towards the train station.
“Stop! Stop!” the buffalo yelled, as they brought down lightning bolts onto the town from the sky, right in front of the ponies’ path. But it was no use, and did little besides make their manes stand on end and make them cover their ears temporarily. Unicorns tried grabbing them with their magic to stop them, and fired meaningless warning shots into the air, but there were too many townsponies and not enough unicorns and buffalo. They couldn’t use lethal force, either, out of fear of killing their laborers. The earth ponies wrenched free of their captives’ magical grasp, scrambling all throughout the alleys of town on their way, scattering as they went towards the train station. A set of twin locomotives and a dozen boxcars stood on the tracks.
The unicorns and buffalo started to give chase, but paused as gunfire echoed from above and bullets rained down onto the town square. Off in the sky, a pale white speck grew in size as it rapidly approached the ground. One of the buffalo fell, groaning as several bullets pierced his side.
“We’re under fire from the pegasus! Take him down!” a unicorn shouted. They aimed their guns towards up and fired into the air, but Pound was too small of a target and too fast for them to hit.
Across town, the earth ponies clamored aboard the train. They wrenched open the doors to the boxcars, throwing themselves inside and closing the doors behind them.
“Stop! Stop or I’ll shoot!” one of the unicorn guards yelled, running over to the train in pursuit. But everypony knew that he couldn’t shoot the farmers, and an older earth mare walked over to him and kicked him in the stomach. He yelped as the gun fell out of his magical grasp. The mare grabbed it, shot a single bullet in the unicorn’s head and stood guard outside the train as dozens and dozens of the Appleloosans clamored aboard.
Thankfully, one of them was a conductor, and climbed into the locomotive, as several of the others started shoveling coals into the furnace.
“Now or never!” the conductor cried as he pulled down on the rope and the train whistle sounded. The engine roared to life as the train slowly started chugging along at a snail’s pace. Almost every earth pony in town was now on the train.
Five buffalo arrived to the train from elsewhere in the town, taking down the mare with a gun with a lightning bolt. Though they couldn’t fire directly into the train for fear of killing their farmers, they still slammed their massive bodies into the train like hoofball linemen. The train wobbled from side to side as the buffalo slammed into it.
“No leaving Appleloosa!” the buffalo shouted.
The earth ponies all piled their bodies towards the sides of the boxcar to stop it from shaking from the buffalos’ attempts to derail the train. It was holding, and they just hoped that it would hold until the train was moving too fast for them to keep up.
The wind blistered Pound Cake’s face. Tears streamed to his eyes as his wings flapped back and forth many times a second, and his hair streamed behind him. This time, he had tied his messy mane behind his head and styled it back, so that he wouldn’t be blinded by it whipping his eyes.
Pound was temporarily blinded as a lightning bolt hit the air a meter away, likely fired from a buffalo. He narrowed his eyes as he determined that he wouldn’t fly straight down. Rather, he started circling in concentric figure eights to make himself harder to hit. The blood rushed to his head and out of his hooves as he thought that he would pass out, as the buffalo continued to fire volley after volley of lightning bolts, and the unicorns shot off magic spells and machine gun fire, anything to stop the pegasus who was rapidly closing in on them.
The buildings grew in size as Pound approached the ground. He would have only one shot at this. His stentorian cry echoed through the air. He wasn’t sure whether it could be heard over the sound of the wind gusts that his plummet was making, but it was more for his sake than theirs.
“THIS IS FOR PUMPKIN!”
A white cone appeared around his hooves, and then, at the last possible second, he pulled up at a ninety-degree angle, flying down the main street of town at a screaming pace. A tremendous sound louder than anything that Pound had ever heard boomed behind him, and an incredible tapestry of every color conceivable erupted like a volcano, shrouding the town in blinding light.
The buffalo and unicorns still left in the town were knocked back, going flying in every direction. Many died instantly from the colorful concussive blasts inflicted by the sonic rainboom, their blood misting the air. Others were thrown up into the air or across the ground, their necks and spines snapping against the ground and the sides of buildings which themselves collapsed under the blast.
Pound raced through the apple orchards at blistering speeds, the shockwave knocking all of the trees out of the ground, their trunks snapping like toothpicks, their leaves whipped off into the air or into a green tornado which followed the unstoppable Pound Cake in a line through every orchard in town. He surveyed the destruction, and just to ensure that the town would forever be a barren waste, he returned for a second pass, yet another sonic explosion tearing the apple trees from the ground behind him like a sharp razor shaving a thick beard.
The town and its orchards in ruins behind him, Pound Cake zipped towards the train which the six buffalo left were still trying to derail. He zeroed in on the one in the back, and with his remaining momentum, slammed his two front hooves into his side, knocking him into the others like billiard balls. The onslaught stopped, and the buffalo lay broken balls of fuzz by the side of the rails as the train finally reached full speed.
By this point, Pound Cake’s wings were screaming out in protest and aching in pain from the exertion he had put on them. He flew inside of one of the boxcars, landing next to some of the refugees from Appleloosa.
“Pound Cake! You rescued us!” one of the Appleloosans said.
“We’re free!” said another.
“We knew you’d come back!”
“Three cheers for Pound Cake!”
They lifted him up and tossed him in the air. “Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, hooray!”
Pound Cake smiled as he glanced through the open boxcar door back towards Appleloosa. Every single building had been reduced to piles of wood. The orchards were entirely gone, mere splinters and apple mush standing where the trees once did. Even where they were, a kilometer away from the town, stray green apple tree leaves and apples still rained from the sky.
“Sorry about your town,” said Pound Cake. “But I didn’t think that you’d miss it too much after what the Second Kingdom did to it.”
The ponies in the boxcar chuckled.
The sun had just begun to set as Applejack and Big Macintosh stood at the train station. They sat on a bench as the clock struck eight o’ clock.
“Well, I guess that Pound Cake ain’t comin’ with us,” said Applejack. “The train to Manehattan gets here in five minutes, and he still ain’t here.”
Big Macintosh shrugged.
Applejack sighed. “I guess I’ve finally met a pony who’s more stubborn than I am. Though I must admit, if somethin’ ever happened to you, Big Mac, I don’t know if I’d ever stop lookin’. So I guess I can’t blame Pound Cake for not givin’ up the search for Pumpkin—”
Big Macintosh blinked, glancing behind Applejack. Applejack turned to where he pointed and saw a familiar black locomotive from the MDJ line. But this wasn’t their train to Manehattan; it didn’t have any passenger cars. Rather, there were a dozen or so boxcars that looked like they had seen better days. Green leaves from apple trees were scattered all over the top and stuck to the sides, glued in place by what Applejack instantly recognized as wet apple mush. The sides of the boxcars were covered in dents, like somepony had taken a sledgehammer to it.
“What the hay?” asked Applejack.
The train came to a stop, and the boxcars opened. Applejack smiled as the tired, beleaguered residents of Appleloosa poured out one by one.
“Mister Barnstead! Old lady Ashmead! The Pettingill triplets! How did all of y’all get out of there?” asked Applejack.
Suddenly, she got her answer, as Pound Cake climbed out of the car, using his hooves to walk all the way over from the last boxcar to Applejack. She raised an eyebrow, as normally he would use his wings to fly more than five meters or so.
“Hi, Applejack,” said Pound Cake. “I didn’t find Pumpkin Cake, but I brought some friends back with me.”
“But… how?” asked Big Macintosh.
Pound Cake chuckled. “Well, I pulled off a little stunt called the sonic rainboom.”
Applejack’s jaw dropped. “Land’s sakes! Only my friend Rainbow Dash has ever been able to do that before!”
Pound said, “I had never done it before today, but I was so angry after I finally accepted that Pumpkin Cake had died and that they killed her. I saw them whipping a stallion on the steps, and that made me even madder. I guess that I just channeled all of that rage into flying as fast as I could.”
Applejack walked over to the train. “Looks like you made a mess of things.”
Pound laughed. “The town is entirely gone! So are the orchards. Pumpkin Cake may be dead, but her death won’t be in vain. I’m not stopping with Appleloosa, either…”
Big Macintosh and Applejack raised an eyebrow, and Pound gazed to the north. “...I’m going to destroy every last one of the Second Kingdom’s crop fields until they surrender and end the war.”
Darkness hung over Ponyville as the clock tower struck nine. The stars twinkled in the sky as lights dimmed in the houses in the unicorn area of town, while there were no lights in the earth pony and pegasi area at all.
Inside of the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse, the trio sat around a table, illuminated by a flickering candle and the green glow of Sweetie Belle’s horn. The dusty windows were entirely boarded up, concealing the light. On the table, a bag of chips and a bowl of salsa sat, along with several drinks. Apple Bloom swatted away a spider that tried to land in the salsa, as she returned her eyes to the playing cards in her hooves.
“I’ve got nothin’,” said Apple Bloom, letting out a sigh as she set her cards on the table.
“Me neither,” said Sweetie Belle, putting hers down, too.
“Oh, that means I win!” Scootaloo proclaimed, grinning, laying her rather meager cards down.
“No fair, those cards aren’t even good. Apple Bloom didn’t shuffle the deck right. Redeal!”
Scootaloo shrugged. “Well you might not have won, Sweetie Belle, but you get to go to the unicorn district of town, so there’s that,” she offered.
Sweetie Belle let out a laugh, taking the cards in her magic as she shuffled them around in the air. “Well you guys didn’t have to stay in Ponyville once the Second Kingdom took it over and segregated it.”
“What was I s’posed to do? Go to Appleloosa with Applejack and leave my best friends behind? My architecture talent don’t have too much to do with apple farming,” said Apple Bloom.
“It was a joke,” said Sweetie Belle, grinning as she fake-punched Apple Bloom on the shoulder with her hoof. “That does remind me to ask: how is your family doing?”
Apple Bloom said, “Big Mac, AJ, and Granny Smith went to Manehattan. Rich ol’ Aunt and Uncle Orange are hostin’ em in their penthouse while they get back on their hooves. Applejack just sent me a letter the other day.”
“You got a letter from Applejack and didn’t share?” Scootaloo demanded, her brow furrowed.
Apple Bloom shrunk back in her chair. “It was mostly about family stuff that you wouldn’t find interestin’ anyway. But she’s doin’ fine. Manehattan hardly felt the war at all; it’s so far from the front lines. Not like Ponyville.”
“Maybe your family can say hello to Rarity in Manehattan for me,” said Sweetie Belle. “I haven’t seen her in two years, she’s so busy with her fashion stuff. The city is so far away.”
“Why don’t you go there and make it big on Broadneigh? You deserve better than singing to local dive bars. Then you’d be closer to your sister,” said Scootaloo.
“Dive bars are how you get a start, though,” said Sweetie Belle. “There are probably a million other ponies in Equestria besides me whose special talent is singing. I have to have something to put on my resume first before a theater company would even think about hiring me.”
Scootaloo nodded.
“Besides,” Sweetie continued, “you’re the one who should leave Ponyville and go pursue your dreams, miss wannabe physical therapist. Go back to college!”
Scootaloo chuckled. “Do you know how expensive a doctorate is? I need a ton of savings. Why do you think I’m doing grunt work down at Ponyville General?”
“Uh…” said Apple Bloom, scratching her head. “‘Cause it’s fun?”
“I enjoy working with the patients, but cleaning up vomit isn’t fun,” Scootaloo scoffed.
“Maybe if you’re Pinkie,” said Sweetie Belle.
“Shame she had to close up Sugarcube Corner and go back to the rock farm in Whinnsylvania,” said Apple Bloom. “Stupid Blueblood’s economy.”
“It seems like everypony has moved away but us,” Scootaloo sighed, counting the numbers off on her feathers. “All our old friends: Snips, Snails, Twist, Featherweight, Pipsqueak…”
“Even Fluttershy,” said Sweetie Belle. “Twilight named her Head Warden of the Equestrian park service.”
“And what about Rainbow Dash? I ain’t seen her in ages,” Apple Bloom said.
Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle both looked at Scootaloo expectantly.
Scootaloo shrugged. “What am I, a rolodex? I have no idea where Rainbow Dash is. I haven’t seen her since Cloudsdale split off. It’s like she just disappeared.”
“Shucks,” said Apple Bloom.
Scootaloo’s head sunk low, and she sighed. “It’s a shame. Her stunts were so awesome.”
“Like the sonic rainboom,” said Sweetie Belle.
“Yep. Rainbow Dash was so awesome, she had her very own move that only she could do!” Scootaloo exclaimed, throwing her hooves in the air.
Apple Bloom chuckled. “Well she ain’t the only pony who can do the rainboom anymore, after Appleloosa.”
“What?” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo both exclaimed, their eyes widening.
“Yup,” said Apple Bloom. “You guys remember Pound Cake? He did one in Appleloosa. Wiped out all the Second Kingdom troops. From what Applejack said in her letter, it was a sight to see! Of course, she wasn’t there to see it herself, but—”
“I thought that you said that Applejack didn’t say anything interesting in her letter!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed.
Apple Bloom scooted back in her chair, shaking her head. “Sorry, I thought y’all had already heard about it! It was in this morning’s paper.”
“Really?” Scootaloo asked.
“Front page,” said Apple Bloom. “Here, lemme show you.”
She reached onto the floor next to the table, where her saddlebag sat. The bag crinkled as she sifted through a bunch of belongings, before finally pulling out the paper. It was a copy of the Tall Tale Times, and the front cover showed a photo of a completely demolished Appleloosa, with nothing but wood splinters and apple mush remaining. Below and to the right, there was a picture of Pound Cake’s face.
“Ew, you read the Tall Tale Times?” Sweetie Belle cringed.
“What a rag!” Scootaloo scoffed.
Apple Bloom blushed. “What’s wrong with the Times?”
Sweetie Belle asked, “Didn’t you read what they printed about Zecora? It’s a lying tabloid. Even we ran a better paper when we did the Foal Free Press for school, and we were eight!”
Scootaloo scoffed, “Yeah, at least our stories were true.”
Apple Bloom shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry, but it ain’t like I got a lot of options. The Ponyville Express is local news only, and the Canterlot Cornucopia is hogwash. The Tall Tale Times is the only national paper from Equestria that Blueblood didn’t ban.”
“Which should tell you how wrong it is, if it’s the only one he wants you to see,” said Sweetie Belle. “Derpy sneaks in copies of the Manehattan Monitor when she comes to deliver the mail. I’ll let you read it. That paper get the facts right.”
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever, but I do know that the rainboom news story is true at least, since Applejack gave a secondhoof account that was the same. She wouldn’t lie, right?”
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo nodded.
Apple Bloom smiled. “Then why can’t we just read the Tall Tale Times, keepin’ in mind it’s a tabloid? Just ignore the gossip and rumors. Like AJ would say, eat the apple and spit out the seeds.”
A few seconds passed, but finally, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo reluctantly nodded. Sweetie Belle lit up her horn brighter so that they could read the paper.
TALL TALE TIMES “Bringing you the stories that other papers don’t dare to cover!” June 5th, 2025
EXCLUSIVE: POUND POUNDS TOWN DOWN By: Inter View
The farm town of Appleloosa is no more, having been consumed by a powerful explosion known as the sonic rainboom. The town was wiped off the map yesterday, as the rainboom crunched the buildings, felled the apple trees, and killed the fascist occupiers. Much like when an apple is eaten and only the rusty brown core remains, all that is left of Appleloosa is wooden rubble and apple mush.
Ever since the Second Kingdom famines, worsened by Equestrian military attacks against their farming machines, Blueblood has been hungry for more land and crops to feed his starving unicorn nation. Appleloosa and its apples were a prime target to be gobbled up. As reported in a previous issue, Twilight Sparkle refused to send troops to help defend the small town of a few hundred earth ponies from the buffalo and unicorn hordes, arguing that Equestrian troops were needed to defend population centers of millions.
The Appleloosa Self-Defense Force, or ASDF (not to be confused with the labor union) was an unsanctioned local militia, and the only line of defense standing between the town and a fascist uni takeover. The militia was denied weapons by Manehattan, but miraculously fended off assault after assault for a year. Though the militia was finally defeated in battle in April and the town was occupied, the famous pegasus prodigy Pound Cake returned to take his final revenge.
We have obtained an exclusive interview with fifteen-year-old Pound Cake (pictured, right)
“I did it to save those ponies, to stop the Second Kingdom from taking their food, and to avenge the death of my sister, Pumpkin,” said Pound Cake. “I had no idea I could do it, and I never did it before that day, but when I felt the wind in my mane, the breeze on my wings, the vengeance in my heart, it just… happened.”
Once believed to be a myth by the general public, the Sonic Rainboom was proven to be as real as this paper had long predicted before. A decade ago, famed wingmare Rainbow Dash brought the boom to bear at the Best Young Flyers Competition in Cloudsdale, once again proving the unwavering accuracy of the Times. Now, Pound Cake is the second to perform the maneuver. Like Rainbow Dash, he has confirmed he can do it at will.
Due to a lack of data and test subjects, scientists can’t yet precisely measure the strength of a Sonic Rainboom. It is believed to vary by occurrence and by the intent of the pegasus who performs it, with Rainbow Dash’s sonic rainbooms ranging from harmless to devastating based on the context and her self-reported emotions at the time. Magical properties have also been ascribed to the rainboom, such as enhancement of unicorn spellcasting, and destinies being revealed. Based off of the devastation of Appleloosa, a theoretical physicist at Tall Tale University estimated for the Times that the strength of Pound Cake’s recent sonic rainboom was equivalent to 10,000 tons of TNT.
About his plans for the future, Pound Cake insists that he isn’t a one-trick pony, and that he will repeat his successes. “I have a message for Blueblood: I’m coming for the crops everywhere. I’m going to wreck your farmland until you surrender. You can’t stop me. I’m too fast for you to catch. You’ll never see me coming, and will never know exactly when or where I’ll strike. Surrender, or your country will starve this winter.”
Our readers should note that the Northern Flatlands, where over 90% of the Second Kingdom’s total farming operations take place, is roughly 10,000 square miles, thousands of times bigger than the orchards of Appleloosa. However, only about 2,000 sq. miles of this area is currently farmed, due to operations by the Equestrian military to sabotage farming there.
Despite the daunting task, Pound Cake is determined to fight fascism to the death. “The Wonderbolts might have failed to destroy all of the crops, but they didn’t have me or the rainboom. Besides, I don’t plan to act alone,” he remarked.
Other stories this issue: Zecora and Zarek Turn Tables on Twilight, Launch Lawsuit, Pg. 2 Pics of Star Celebrities… Fully Clothed!, Pg. 3 Are We Alone? Changelings Descended From Ancient Aliens, Says Expert, Pg. 4
Prior issue corrections: Zecora has been granted a princess pardon from Twilight Sparkle, who it turns out was an old friend of Zecora’s the entire time. Sounds a bit too convenient, but technically a correction must be made.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” said Apple Bloom. “I mean, it’s just like a regular paper.”
“Yeah, one that says ‘fascist’ a million times. What does that word even mean?” asked Scootaloo.
Sweetie Belle shrugged. “No idea.”
“I think it’s what you call somepony when you don’t like them,” said Apple Bloom. “Like ‘scalawag’ or ‘nincompoop.’”
“Did Pound Cake really say that he was going to destroy two thousand square miles of farmland by himself?” asked Sweetie Belle.
Apple Bloom chuckled. “Well, he said he wouldn’t ‘act alone,’ whatever that means. But I think he’s bluffin’ and it’s just him. Seems like he’s biting off more than he can chew. He’s just one pegasus. Maybe he gets a group, but hundreds of our army guys have already been attacking the Flatlands.”
“As awesome as the sonic rainboom is, you’re right,” said Scootaloo. “Appleloosa was small pota—er, apples—compared to the giant Flatlands. Thats a lot of boasting he’s doing. Like, Trixie levels of boasting.”
Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Why did the Second Kingdom even attack Appleloosa to begin with? Why are they taking all of our apples, if they grow their own food up there anyway? They have thousands and thousands of acres, and Appleloosa can only give them a small part of what they need.”
The trio was silent for a moment, until Scootaloo spoke.
“Maybe they thought Appleloosa would be easy pickings, and that it wouldn’t come under attack by Equestria. I mean, because earth ponies live there and might get hurt in the attack, or they might starve later. Think about it: you don’t see Equestria trying to attack the farmland in Ponyville. Though with Pound Cake in Appleloosa, they thought wrong.”
“Plus, apples are really healthy for you,” said Apple Bloom. “Got all sorts of vitamins, nutrients, calories, and whatnot. One good apple tree is worth a whole acre of wheat or corn, and that’s all they can grow in the flatlands with their mechanical farming doohickeys. You can’t just live off of one staple, and maybe they wanted to get all the food groups,” said Apple Bloom.
“Then they shouldn’t have started a war,” Sweetie Belle scoffed.
“Cloudsdale is lucky they can still trade the weather that they make for Equestria’s food, or else they’d be in the same boat,” said Scootaloo.
Sweetie Belle said, “I still think that Pound Cake is just going out—”
Suddenly, she was interrupted by a low humming sound. She blinked for a minute, but then continued, figuring it to be one of the Second Kingdom’s warplanes.
“—on a foolish—”
The sound grew louder, drowning out the sound of Sweetie Belle’s voice.
“—crusade!”
Suddenly, there was a tremendous, deafening explosion. The treehouse shook and tremored as the Cutie Mark Crusader’s ears perked up.
“Bomb raid! Take cover!” shouted Scootaloo.
They all huddled under the table, hugging each other in their hooves. The deafening boom continued as the bowl of salsa on the table rattled repeatedly, eventually falling onto the floor and shattering almost noiselessly, the sound drowned out. Blinding light shone through the cracks in the boards of the windows, illuminating the entire room.
After five seconds, the roar died down to a low rumbling, until finally subsiding ten seconds later. The light that shone through the window cracks was still bright, but slowly dimming.
“What the hay?” asked Apple Bloom.
“That wasn’t like other bombing raids we’ve been in,” said Sweetie Belle.
“It was almost like...” Scootaloo started.
She rushed towards the door, opening it slowly and peering through the crack until she confirmed that it was safe to exit. Her two friends still stayed under the table until she beckoned them to come out, which they did.
The Crusaders glanced at the sky, far off in the distance, beyond Sweet Apple Acres and the outskirts of town, as their eyes widened in awe. A great, bright, beautiful dust cloud of the entire spectrum hung in the sky. Teal, aquamarine, and crimson threads shimmered directly up above their heads in waves like auroras, and oranges and purples settled to the horizon like a gorgeous sunset.
Scootaloo blinked and turned to Sweetie Belle. “You were saying something about a crusade?”
Pound Cake soared high above the sky in Ponyville, surveying the damage that his rainboom had done. He had been sure to only attack an area far away from farm homes, or any civilians who could have gotten caught in the explosion or shockwave, plotting his attack to cause minimum property damage in Ponyville, but maximum damage to the apple trees of the former Sweet Apple Acres and the surrounding farms.
He smiled as he landed on the ground on a nearby hilltop. But then, he reached over to his back and rubbed his wings. They were agonizingly sore. His head, too, was throbbing and aching from the blast.
He remembered a conversation that Spitfire had had with him about G forces, and about knowing one’s limits and knowing when to stop. He had done anything but that over the past few weeks, and he realized that he would kill himself before even destroying a tiny fraction of the Flatlands farming operations. He might have had a concussion at that moment and not even realized it, he thought.
Shaking his head, he sighed. Maybe his little interview with the Tall Tale Times was premature boasting. He hadn’t been the one to initiate it, but the reporter kept asking him questions, and he was so euphoric and excited after Appleloosa, that he didn’t really stop to think about what he had committed himself to with his answers.
He wouldn’t have a prayer of even putting a dent in all of the crops by himself. But it still needed to be done. With the war effort in a stalemate, it was the best way of bringing it to a speedy end. A starving army is a weak army, and a weak army surrenders or dies. But Pound Cake would need some sort of help. He couldn’t sonic boom all of the crops dead by himself, but maybe, with some help, he could burn or poison them.
He looked up towards the sky, where the lights of the stars intermixed with the lights from the city of Cloudsdale to the northwest.
And I know just where to find help, he thought.
Pumpkin Cake sat with her head against the wall, her eyes closed and stinging, her throat dry as a bone. She gritted her teeth, coughing slightly. Behind her, the babbling sound of rushing water filled her ears. Her thoughts started to wander back to her first several weeks in her prison, anything to distract her from the latest torment that Trixie and Doctor Stekton had dreamed up.
She had tried to escape several times, by teleporting out of the room and into the hallway, but with no luck. The hallway would fill with sedative gas that took her down in just a few seconds. Even if she teleported again, she could only get further down the hallway, where the gas still awaited. Perhaps if she had ever seen any place in the research lab besides her room, she could teleport straight there and bypass the hallway. But without any known destination to visualize, she was stuck with Trixie’s torments.
Trixie was trying everything in her power to get Pumpkin to use the intangibility spell on one of the electronic sensors, to give the researchers some solid data to go off of. They’d implanted sensors deep under Pumpkin’s skin that would detect the magic if she used it on herself, and sensors on the door and other areas of the room if she used the spell on any of those. But it had been futile so far.
Trixie had tried employing physical pain at first, but the trouble was getting Pumpkin to be in pain without being able to escape it with other types of magic besides intangibility. This was easier said than done. For instance, on her first day, when faced with the wasps, Pumpkin quickly found that she could grab them out of the air with her telekinesis and crush them before they ever reached her, so they never stung her. Apparently, the researchers had a limited wasp supply, and weren’t willing to release any more than a single jar of them into the room.
So next, Trixie tried rubbing Pumpkin Cake with poison oak all over her body. That was excruciatingly itchy… for a while, until she realized that she didn’t have to use her intangibility spell to get out of that, either. Rather, she discovered that by teleporting from place to place around the room constantly, just a meter or so, it provided temporary relief for a few seconds after she re-materialized. It was enough to get through the discomfort. Pumpkin only had to do that for a few days until Trixie gave up on using physical pain and decided to use psychological pain instead.
They started off with sleep deprivation, playing loud music in the room and dumping ice water on Pumpkin’s head whenever she dozed off. It wasn’t effective, since by the end of it, she was so tired that she couldn’t cast magic even if she wanted to. Then, they tried giving her psychoactive drugs, but those weren’t effective either. In fact, she found the hallucinations to be a nice change of pace from her current predicament. They also tried mind control on Pumpkin such as the want-it, need-it spell, but thankfully for Pumpkin, Zecora had taught her some mental techniques for resisting the spell, making it ineffective on her.
Finally, Doctor Stekton suggested to Trixie that he trigger the survival instinct in one of the most basic, primal ways that Pumpkin could not weasel her way out of. And it would only take a short time for it to work, he said.
Pumpkin Cake hadn’t had a drink of water in three days. This was—as Trixie constantly reminded her of over the loudspeaker—entirely her choice. They didn’t give her any water in a bottle or a cup. Instead, they put about six liters of water of a small, entirely sealed square fishtank, the normal glass walls of which had been replaced by solid steel walls. The walls themselves had sensors embedded inside of them.
The tank wasn’t breakable by way of conventional spells. She had tried that already, using her telekinesis to attempt to smash it. She even turned around and bucked it with her hooves, but it didn’t break. Teleporting the water to herself wouldn’t work, since teleportation didn’t work on liquids. And she couldn’t teleport herself inside of the tank, since she was too big to fit.
If only I had studied transformation spells. I could just turn myself into a fish and fit right in, she thought. But I’d never drink enough water as a fish to be enough to last me once I changed back to a pony again.
Pumpkin Cake’s thoughts were fragmented and incoherent by this point, with every other word being “water.”
Unless I could turn into a medium size fish instead of just a small little goldfish or something. Or maybe an octopus. They drink plenty of water, sometimes even enough water to meet the water needs of a pony. Water, she thought.
One thing she knew for sure, was that she had definitely trained her intangibility spell way too much, to the expense of learning other types of magic that might have come in handy. There were almost fifty different types of major spells that existed, and hundreds of minor sub-types, maybe more depending on how they were counted. She only knew a tiny fraction.
Though Pumpkin was adept at the few spells she did know, such as teleportation, telekinesis, or intangibility, she had mostly focused on mastery of these few skills, rather than on a broad knowledge of others. Zecora had taught her great focusing techniques and discipline, but as a zebra, Zecora’s knowledge of various sorts of unicorn magic had been limited. Pumpkin Cake now wondered if she should have gone for breadth over depth. For instance, Starswirl the Bearded knew over thirty different types of major spells. He’d have escaped from the room by now, she thought.
Or at least gotten himself some water.
Another hour passed, with Pumpkin’s randomly incoherent thoughts being eclipsed by the word water, images of water, and the stock sounds of water that Trixie pumped into the room through the speakers. Churning waterfalls. Rushing brooks. Pitchers of ice water being poured into glasses. The pitter patter of rain falling on the sidewalk. All coldly calculated to drive Pumpkin Cake mad until she cracked.
Finally, she could stand it no more. She summoned what little strength she had left, walked across the room, and lit up her horn as weakly as she possibly could, making a hole in the side of the container only a centimeter in diameter. The water didn’t come out in any more than a few drops. She widened the hole a little bit more, and finally it came out in a steady stream.
She latched her lips onto it, drinking in the sweet nectar in great gulps, a great sense of relief washing over her. But there were other, more powerful emotions… shame, guilt, and fear. Shame that she had finally been broken, that Trixie had finally found a way to conquer her. Guilt that she hadn’t been clever enough to come up with a magic solution that didn’t involve her calling card, go-to intangibility spell, guilt that she had almost exclusively focused on training it and a few other spells her whole life instead of more practical magic. Fear, that now that she had given the researchers the data they needed, they would simply have her killed.
Instantly, the piped-in sound effects ceased. Pumpkin could hear the scientists talking over the loudspeaker, the beeping of their machines in the background. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be hearing it, or if they just left the microphone on by accident, but she listened regardless as she drank.
“Subject has triggered the sensing mechanism,” said a voice she recognized as Doctor Stekton’s.
“What does it say? What does it say?” said Trixie.
There was silence for a few moments, interspersed with beeps from the electronics in the observation room.
Finally, Stekton spoke. “Nothing. It says nothing.”
Pumpkin’s heart skipped a beat. She definitely wasn’t supposed to have heard that.
“Nothing? What do you mean, nothing?” Trixie demanded.
“I mean that it says nothing. I’m getting a flat line. Look here,” said Dr. Stekton.
“You fool! You forgot to set up the sensors in the tank walls, didn’t you!” Trixie scolded.
Stekton sighed. “No, Snips remembered to install them, and they were working just fine after he did. I tested them myself. And they indeed were triggered… for a fraction of a second, but now, there’s nothing. No usable data.”
“How could there be nothing?”
Stekton chuckled. “Perhaps because an intangibility spell would render sensors entirely useless, as I told you before we started trying to get the subject to use the spell on them?”
“No, that’s not true. It’s a magical sensor. It should sense all types of magic, this type included,” said Trixie.
“It registers nothing, because that’s what the spell does. It takes an extant, physical object, and temporarily turns it into nothing. How can a non-existent sensor return any data at all? It can’t, which is what I have been telling you for weeks, and yet you ignore—”
“Watch your tone! I am your superior, and I will not tolerate insubordination!”
Stekton sighed. “Yes, Trixie.”
Pumpkin Cake breathed a sigh of relief in between gulps. They hadn’t found anything, meaning they still didn’t know how she cast the spell. Which meant that they still needed her to give them more data. Which meant that she got to live.
But they would think of new ways to test her, and they would come up with new sensors, maybe ones that could detect her magic. Or they’d use a different method than sensors to study her. She might not be safe forever.
Pumpkin walked back away from the tank and sat down. She would have to find a way to escape between now and when they no longer needed her. But she couldn’t do it using her current meager repertoire of a few spells. She would have to learn to cast more types of spells.
She sighed as she realized the enormity of the task. There were no spellbooks in here, no magic teachers. The only way that she would cast new spells would be if she experimented and figured them out herself, without any guidance or teaching, just as the great magical trail blazers like Starswirl and Twilight Sparkle did. Was Pumpkin really up to their caliber? Or was she just a one-trick pony?
Even if she could learn new magic all by herself, she would have to wait until the times when the magic suppression field was down, which was only when the researchers were trying to coax her into giving them data. Otherwise, she was left entirely powerless. So how could she learn whole new branches of magic, that she had never cast before, during limited windows of time? Pumpkin set her head down on the concrete and closed her eyes. It was probably a flight of fancy.
But then she sat back up again. Trixie always talked about unicorn supremacy, about being the master race. What if there was some truth to it? Not the “kill inferior ponies” part, not the “surrogate parents” part. But what about the “a unicorn can do anything he sets his mind to” part? Surely those ideas must hold more water than the small tank that there were likely a dozen different spells she could have used to open. She could have hypnotized somepony into opening the tank, or shrunk herself down and teleported inside, or made the entire tank surrounding the water disappear into thin air, or turned into a dragon and crushed it in her talons, or froze the water inside and teleported out the ice block, if only she had known how.
In terms of sheer variety, unicorns as a race were certainly quite versatile, having many spells at their disposal. And yet Pumpkin had only mastered three. Maybe when Trixie said that Pumpkin was an embarrassment to the unicorn race, that was what she meant. Pumpkin had yet to live up to her potential, to her special talent in magic.
But from that moment on, Pumpkin decided, she would. She would use every spare second that she could to devise new spells, new ways of escape. And when the time was right, she would strike.
Near the southern edge of Cloudsdale, a hotel towered seven stories into the air. The balconies gave a good view of the cloud city to the north side, and on the south side, a view far down to Equestria below. With its old shag carpets, small tepid pool, and grouchy bellhops, it wasn’t the nicest place in in Cloudsdale, but if a traveler was looking for a reasonably-priced room with a view, it was perfect.
Inside of a conference room, a group of about two dozen pegasi sat around at tables, murmuring quietly amongst themselves. Some ponies gazed off into space; others read books or twiddled their hooves. Several minutes passed until finally, the door burst open. In flew a panting, sweaty Rainbow Dash.
“Hello, everypony,” she huffed, stopping to catch her breath as she set down her saddlebag at one of the tables. She walked over towards the podium at the front of the room.
“Ugh, how is the fastest pony in Equestria always late?” a stallion in the audience groaned as he glanced at his hoofwatch. He was a caramel-coated pegasus stallion with a brown mane and bangs covering his eyes, and a basketball for a cutie mark.
“Yeah, way to go, Rainbow Crash,” said his friend, a chocolate coated stallion seated next to him.
Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Hoops, Dumbbell, can we keep it quiet, please? I was facing a strong wind on my way.”
“Sorry,” said Hoops, chuckling slightly as Dumbbell patted him on the back and grinned.
Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, and then got out a sheet of paper and placed it on the podium, where she spoke.
“Thank you all for coming to the monthly meeting of the Equestrian Loyalist Committee. I’m Rainbow Dash, the chairmare.”
“Uh, I think we all know who you are by now, Rainbow Dash,” said Raindrops, a maize-coated pegasus with a tiffany blue mane. “It’s pretty much the same thirty pegasi at all of these meetings, and—”
Rainbow Dash put her hoof to her face, sighing. “Look, can we get down to business, or what?”
The ponies in the conference room quieted down.
“Anyway,” said Rainbow Dash, glancing down at a sheet of paper that she placed on the podium, “the first item on the agenda is the new Gallop opinion poll.”
All of the ponies in the room immediately focused their attention at Rainbow Dash. She grinned. “Thought that would get your attention. Yes, it’s on ‘Buyers’ Remorse Sentiment of Cloud Confederacy Pegasi…’”
The members in the audience all leaned forward in their seats, their eyes widening.
Rainbow Dash blushed as she looked at the page. “Now, keep in mind that there’s a five point margin of error, here…”
The small group remained tense.
“...Our poll numbers are still at thirty percent who want to reunite with Equestria, while fifty-five percent are glad the Confederacy is independent, and the other fifteen percent is undecided. I’m sorry, you guys. Most ponies in Cloudsdale and Las Pegasus don’t want to be part of Equestria again.”
The crowd sighed.
“But how could they want independence?” asked Raindrops. “President Lightning Dust is so corrupt! Her officials are all embezzling money. All of the police take bribes, and you have to pay them just to get out of a routine stop. The visa regime between us and Equestria is terrible; there’s too much paperwork. Dust’s foreign policy is just idiotic. Why should be allies with the zebras? Why give them most favored nation status? They’re the enemies of the griffons!”
There were murmurs of approval from the crowd.
“I understand, Raindrops,” said Rainbow Dash. “But this poll isn’t about the President. Her approval numbers are in the high 30’s, but even still, most ponies would rather have a bad leader and be independent, than—”
“Have to fight a war with Equestria.”
The crowd turned to the door, where Pound Cake stood.
“Ugh,” Rainbow Dash moaned, shaking her head as she threw her hooves in the air. “Can I at least give my speech without ponies butting in every five seconds… wait, Pound Cake? Is that you?”
Pound Cake nodded and grinned.
An uproar of applause and shouts of approval erupted from all of the pegasi in the room.
“YEAAAH!” yelled a muscular, white pegasus stallion with stubby wings named Bulky Biceps.
“Sonic Rainboom! You go, Pound!” screamed Foggy Fleece, an elderly, white-haired mare wearing a hard-hat.
“Thanks, everyone,” said Pound Cake, taking a bow at the front of the room.
“This is a nice surprise,” said Rainbow Dash. “What brings you to Cloudsdale?”
“I’ll only tell you if I can stand at the podium and say it,” said Pound Cake.
Rainbow Dash glanced hesitantly at the group. They all cheered, and she reluctantly nodded. She took her paper and sat down in one of the chairs in the audience.
“After hearing you cheer, I’m guessing you’ve all read my interview in the Tall Tale Times by now,” said Pound Cake.
“The Manehattan Monitor and the Cloudsdale Courier picked up the story, too,” said Rainbow Dash, smiling. “You’re quite the celebrity now, Pound Cake. Congrats on being the second pony ever to do a sonic rainboom. And what a great way you did it!”
The crowd cheered.
“I’m your biggest fan!” said one of the mares, waving a rainbow pennant with Pound Cake’s face on it.
“Oh yeah?” Hoops shouted over at the mare. “Well I thought Pound was awesome back when he and Pumpkin did that armory raid!”
The rest of the crowd muttered in confusion, and Hoops shook his head. “Posers,” he scoffed. “True Pound Cake fans would know about that.”
Pound Cake smiled. “Glad to see some of my long-time fans here. I figured that, of all ponies, the Equestrian loyalists in Cloudsdale would lend me an ear. Looks like I was right!”
The crowd cheered. However, a single hoof went up in the back of the room. It was from a rather small, cream-coated young stallion with a brown mane and bangs that almost covered his bespectacled face.
“Go on,” said Pound Cake. “You have the floor.”
“My name’s Featherweight, and this ultimatum that you’ve given in the paper, holding the SK’s crops hostage to make them surrender, well… it makes no strategic sense. How would you destroy all those crops by yourself? Sonic rainboom or no, that’s still a huge commitment. You would suffer severe brain damage from the repeated G-forces, and you’d die long before even destroying a tenth of those crops.”
Pound nodded. “Yeah, you’ve called my bluff. The rainboom is a taxing move. That’s why I need willing members of the Equestrian Loyalist Committee to go on a mission with me… to help me sabotage the Second Kingdom’s crops so that they’ll surrender!”
The crowd started to cheer, until Rainbow Dash held up her hoof.
“I dig your style, Pound, and we’re all ready to go out and actually do something concrete instead of just sitting around whining about our poll numbers, but Featherweight has a point,” said Rainbow Dash. “I served in the Wonderbolts. I’m a bit too old to go on crazy flying missions like that now, but I still remember strategy. The Equestrians have been sabotaging SK farming for years, but we still haven’t ended the war. What makes you think that you can do it any better, even with all of us helping you? There’s only thirty of us.”
“I’m open to ideas from the audience,” said Pound Cake. “What about burning all the crops, instead of attacking their farming equipment?”
“It’s been tried,” said Rainbow Dash. “They have pyrokinetic unicorns who can control fire through magic and put out whatever blaze we start.”
“Then we’ll just create a snowstorm to freeze all of their crops,” said Foggy Fleece. “I’m a manager at the weather factory, so I’ll go over there and start—”
“The unicorns can control the weather, too, with their magic and planes. They’ll just counter whatever we do,” said Raindrops. “Why don’t we send in a bunch of locusts to eat their crops?”
“Where would we get that many?” asked a stallion in the crowd. “Even if we did, they use pesticides up there.”
“So we just poison the crops!” said Hoops. “We can just air drop the poison all over the place.”
“There isn’t enough poison in all of Equestria for those crops,” said a mare.
“How about dragons? They could blow smoke all over the fields and block out the sunlight!” said Dumb Bell.
“That smoke would blow all over Equestria and give us all lung cancer! Besides, dragons are neutral; they don’t get involved in pony affairs unless their own interests are threatened. Equestria’s civil war doesn’t concern them.”
It went on like this for about an hour, with various members of the crowd proposing ideas, but with other members shooting them down. The group even took an idea from Derpy Hooves, who came into the hotel on her mail route.
“Maybe Derpy has an idea about how to kill the crops,” said Pound.
Derpy blushed, and scratched her head with her hoof. “Oh, I don’t know; I’m neutral. I just deliver the mail, you know…”
“You must have seen something in your travels that could help us,” said Rainbow Dash.
Derpy’s eyes crossed as she stared off into space and down at the floor at the same time. Finally, she raised a hoof and smiled.
“Oh, I got it! Why don’t you all fly up there, and stretch out a giant wad of bubblegum over the land, so that it blocks out the crops’ sunlight?”
All of the pegasi in the room laughed. Rainbow Dash grinned. “That sounds like an idea Pinkie Pie would come up with.”
“Well, you asked,” said Derpy.
Featherweight sighed, digging his hoof into his face. “So now that we’ve exhausted all of the food-based ideas, can we finally concede that this mission is doomed from—”
He stopped himself mid-sentence. The committee waited a few moments, and then Pound Cake said, “What is it, Featherweight?”
Featherweight grinned. “I have an idea.”
The night skies over the Flatlands: June 2025
Veins popped and bulged in Bulky Biceps’ muscles as he pulled a giant, wooden cart behind him through the air. Featherweight flew beside him, not pulling nearly his share. The cart was filled with dozens of burlap bags, each the size of a pony. Behind Featherweight and Biceps, ten pairs of pegasi ponies pulled identical cartfulls of bags.
“This stuff is so heav—” Hoops started.
“Shaddup!” his cart-pulling partner Dumb Bell queitly implored, elbowing him with a hoof. “You don’t wanna give away our position.”
They looked ahead, as Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake came to a stop. Rainbow Dash held up a reflective red stop sign that shimmered in the moonlight. The convoy halted.
After all ten carts had stopped, Rainbow Dash turned her stop sign around to a green side. The carts made a tight circle formation around Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake. The pegasi were flying shoulder-to-shoulder and were all now within speaking distance.
One of the two pegasi from each pair unhitched himself from the cart and flew around to the back of the cart, unlatching the latches, while his stronger partner was left strapped to the harness.
“Three, two, one… drop!” Rainbow commanded.
The cart carriers flew straight up into the air, and the backs of their carts tilted back, letting all of the burlap sacks plummet from the carts, through the air below. Half a minute passed, and then Featherweight glanced up from the stopwatch on his hoof.
“Alright, Pound Cake, the bags should’ve descended to the correct altitude by now. You’re up!”
Pound nodded, and then he turned downward towards the ground, flapped his wings, and went into a nose-dive. The committee members rushed back towards Cloudsdale as fast as they could.
It was too dark to see the bags below, and Pound could only see the expansive wheatfields illuminated by the half-moon. However, he trusted that Featherweight did the math right, and that the bags would be falling at the right speed. The wind increased at his sides as it blistered his mane.
Reaching both hooves out, Pound braced himself as the white cone started to form around him. The dark shadows of the burlap bags came into his vision, just as Featherweight had calculated. At the last possible second, when he was exactly level with the skydiving bags, the luminous explosion issued forth from his outstretched hooves, searing the burlap of the many sacks apart like a hot knife through butter.
A few moments later, once he was at a safe distance, Pound turned around to observe his handiwork. The usual hues of the sonic rainboom were complemented by a dusty, milky powder. The specks were as numerous as the stars above, glinting off the light from the rainboom.
He furiously blinked as his eyes were stung by hundreds of falling particles. He coughed as they got into his nose and mouth. As he dashed back towards Cloudsdale, the salty taste was on his tongue.
It tasted like success.
Cloudsdale: Two weeks earlier
Featherweight stood at the front of the conference room with a whiteboard illustration of the plan, codenamed “Sonic Saltshaker.”
“...then, after we’ve all dumped our cargo, Pound Cake will fly down and use the sonic rainboom, and the explosion will distribute all of the salt evenly. From several miles up, it will have a dispersal radius of two hundred square miles once it finally falls to the ground. When their irrigation system turns on to water the crops overnight, the salt will dissolve into the soil. Poisoning all of their crops will take about twenty trips, perhaps more, but as long as we do it at night, fly high, and avoid detection, we’ll have minimal losses. If we get the salt concentration high enough, nothing will grow there,” said Featherweight.
“How are you even getting all this salt?” asked Dumb Bell.
Featherweight smiled. “That’s one of the perks of managing a desalination plant in Las Pegasus. The city is in an arid climate, and we don’t have enough freshwater to meet the city’s needs. So, we fly up huge tanks of saltwater from the ocean and desalinate it, turning it into freshwater. But that leaves us with a byproduct: sea salt. We sell some of it to factories that make salt licks, table salt, or potato chips, but we have a lot left over. Usually, we just dump it back into the ocean. But now it’s coming here instead, so that we have enough salt to poison the crops.”
The crowd applauded at Featherweight’s plan.
Canterlot, July 2025
King Blueblood tapped his hoof on the concrete floor of his top-secret bunker as he sat at the new conference room, deep underground. He sighed as he looked at the clock on the metal-plated wall. It was almost five minutes to go until the meeting was supposed to start. Didn’t his ministers know that coming in at the last second was tacky?
He shook his head, hoping his ministers would come to give him some good news. The past few months had brought nothing but disappointment. First, Flim and Flam had died. Then, Emperor Zaporizhia demanded a hundred more warplanes that Canterlot’s factories were incapable of producing; they were already at peak capacity. Finally, the crops had been sabotaged, first in Appleloosa, then Ponyville, and then the Flatlands. He only hoped that the attacks weren’t as successful as he feared, but had been in the dark without an agricultural minister to even tell him.
The unicorn race depends on the strength of our defenses, army, and leaders, Blueblood thought. But all my ministers are running late!
Finally, the blast doors lit up green with magic as one of the guards opened it. In stepped Fancy Pants.
“Ah, Fancy Pants! Good to see that at least one of my ministers understands punctuality,” said Blueblood, smiling. “Please, take a seat.”
Fancy Pants smiled back, sitting down in the chair next to Blueblood. “Yes, and I would have been here even sooner, but your security is rather strict. They kept asking me questions to ensure I wasn’t a changeling.”
Blueblood chuckled. “After the attempts on my life by RISK, I’m not taking any chances, so we’re meeting in this bunker.”
Fancy Pants nodded.
“Speaking of,” said Bluebood, “I’ve named a new agricultural minister to replace Flam. She seems promising, but she is brand new, so I’m not willing to have her be third in line for the presidency. She’ll go at the end of the line, while you’ll still be second, behind Trixie. But you may actually be moved up to first sometime in the next few months, even in front of Trixie.”
Fancy Pants’ heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he chuckled. “Is it because Trixie is late?” he joked.
Blueblood sighed. “I suppose you could say that, yes, but I must discuss that with her privately. You and I will speak no more of it until the time comes.”
The bunker door opened again, and in walked General Top Brass and Trixie Lulamoon. They were joined by a new unicorn mare. She was in her early thirties and had a very light lime-colored coat, almost white. Her mane was amber and brown-striped, and her eyes were grass green. Her cutie mark was a picture of a half-eaten peach. The ponies all sat down around the table.
“Thank you all for coming,” said Blueblood, his smile and straight face hiding the bundle of frayed nerves within. “I apologize if my security made you tardy; they’re just trying to do their jobs.”
The ministers all silently nodded.
“Today’s meeting is about the group of pegasi, led by teenage pegasus Pound Cake, which has poisoned our fields with salt. Princess Sparkle claims to have no knowledge or any control over this, but since her troops have attacked our farms before, it wouldn’t surprise me if she was involved. General Top Brass tells me that they’ve dodged our military defenses. We’ve covered some of the farmland with force-fields to protect the crops from falling salt, but we only have enough unicorns to cover a small amount of land. Our meeting today is to find where we stand as a country, before taking action to stop the genocide of our race by starvation.
“Now, before we begin, introductions are in order. Ever since the tragic deaths of our Economic and Agricultural ministers Flim and Flam, the council has been short two ministers. After a long search through many applicants, I have appointed Mrs. Peachy Pitt as our new Minister of Agriculture.”
“Hello, everypony,” said Peachy Pitt, a smile crossing her face. “Glad to be here.”
“Please tell the group a bit about yourself,” said Blueblood.
“Sure. I’m from Ponyville originally; I lived there most of my life. I got my bachelors’ in agriculture with a minor in business from the University of Neighbraska. I have a successful career in farm management and agribusiness, helping earth ponies in Ponyville to plan irrigation lines, rotate crops, and genetically modify crops for higher yields. I worked for a big agribusiness firm in Manehattan in my twenties, but went back to Ponyville since I liked the small town better. Less traffic, nicer ponies.
“I’ve always loved being a unicorn, and love magic as much as I love farming. I don’t hate earth ponies, though; in fact, a lot of my relatives are earth ponies. My clients in Ponyville were all earth ponies. I just think that each race deserves its own nation if it wants to set its own course. The pegasi, crystal ponies, zebras, and changelings all have their own countries, so why not unicorns? It’s only fair.”
The group nodded.
Peachy Pitt sighed. “Despite my tolerance, I faced a lot of prejudice and racist remarks from earth ponies who thought that just because I was a unicorn, I had no business being in the ‘earth pony job’ of farming. I had to have special permission just to get into U of N’s agriculture program, and my professors were always dismissive of me, though my grades proved them wrong. Then, back in Ponyville, Mayor Mare denied me a contract to manage the Running of the Leaves, instead giving it to an earth pony farmer with no degree. Discrimination surely played a role.”
The group shook their heads. Fancy Pants had to keep from chuckling at the irony, given the Second Kingdom’s treatment of earth ponies in Ponyville. Hate begets hate, he thought.
Peachy Pitt concluded, “So when the Second Kingdom liberated Ponyville from the princesses, I saw an opportunity to do what I had always wanted to: manage agriculture on a giant scale, to be judged on my talents instead of my race. I applied for this job, and I’m happy I got it over every other unicorn applicant, and I know that I’m the right pony. Once you see my work, I think you’ll agree. Thank you.”
The ministers and Blueblood clapped.
“And thank you for giving your talents to the unicorn race,” said Blueblood. “I apologize that you’ve come aboard at such a hard time, as our crops are under siege by a rogue group of pegasi. Now I understand that you are new here, and that you might not have an understanding of how we operate...”
“Way ahead of you. I’ve been doing research and calculations since last week,” said Peachy Pitt, grinning. Her horn lit up and projected many line graphs, pie graphs, and bar graphs onto the bunker wall behind them.
Peachy Pitt explained the graphs.
“The Second Kingdom has six million residents: five million in Canterlot and one million in Mareicopa. At minimum, each adult pony needs 2,500 calories a day to live. Ideally, they should eat a balanced diet of fruit and vegetables as well as grains. Per year, the Second Kingdom needs to grow about five and a half trillion calories worth of food to stay afloat.”
The other ministers blinked. Peachy Pitt chuckled. “That seems like a lot, but it really isn’t. In fact, until this year, we have been meeting our food needs, with nopony dying of starvation. Granted, there were rations, and a higher rate of nutritional deficiency diseases like scurvy, but it’s always been workable. That’s because we’ve farmed 1.3 million acres, and each acre of wheat yields 3.5 million calories, giving us four and a half trillion. Add in the apples of Appleloosa and Ponyville and the winter lettuce of Mareicopa, and that gave us another trillion, to bring us to the needed five and a half trillion.”
The ministers nodded.
“But since last month, a quarter of the flatlands has been made barren due to salt poisoning,” she said, pointing to a pie chart. “Given that, you can easily see that we won’t be able to feed everypony. They’ll either starve, or flee to Equestria to find food.”
Blueblood blinked. Fancy Pants shook his head. Trixie simply stared at the ceiling.
“The pegasi will continue their attack until we stop them, or until all the crops are dead. This line graph shows the number of ponies who will eventually starve or become famine refugees, if the attacks continue at the rate they’ve been going. For every month it goes on, we will eventually lose one million ponies. By this winter, the SK population will taper off at about one million ponies, including our army as well as others who would refuse to evacuate or be unable to. They’d live off of the limited food that we can grow under the force-fields, or imports we can sneak past Equestria from the Zebra Empire or Cloudsdale.”
The ministers were silent for several minutes. Peachy Pitt remained silent, too, until finally saying, “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but at least now you know just how bad it really is. Here is the good news, though: we might have a military solution. If we can capture some more of Equestria’s farmland, such as in Neighbraska, Manesas, or Whinnsylvania, then we can live off of that food and be just fine. Equestria grows far more food than they eat. But I’m not the general here.”
Blueblood and the ministers turned towards General Top Brass, but he shook his head.
“We’ve been dug into trenches behind solid front lines that might budge a meter a week if we’re lucky,” said Top Brass. “The second that our guys go out into no-mane’s-land, they get blown to bits. We do the same to their guys if they try to cross, so at least we’re holding our own lines. It’s been this way for a year, with the exception of Appleloosa, but that town was the last easy, undefended pickings. The Equestrians have fortified their front lines and moved in far more forces than we can overwhelm. The current Second Kingdom Armed Forces number around 100,000, but Equestria has 500,000. It’s only been by magical supremacy and the zebras’ campaign in the west that we’ve held them off. We can’t take more farmland without more troops or some other breakthrough.
“As for Zaporizhia’s siege on Tall Tale and Vanhoover, those cities have somehow managed to hold, despite his saboteurs and bombing campaign. And now, he’s demanding we give him more of our limited warplanes for some extermination run he wants to do against the griffons. And of course, we can’t pull that moon trick again that we did with Cloudsdale, since the Equestrians have had time to train their own telekinetic unicorns to counteract it.”
King Blueblood shook his head. “We must find a magical solution. Minister Lulamoon, surely you have a promising lead for new magic spells?”
Trixie smiled. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I am busy studying intangibility magic, which would allow a pony to become like a phantom. He could walk straight over a minefield, or walk right into enemy trenches, all without being harmed. It would radically alter the nature of warfare, and we are close to a breakthrough any day now!”
Trixie’s words lingered in the air for a few moments like a vile stench as Blueblood sighed. She blinked, looking at him puzzlingly. But he did not speak to her; rather, he turned to Fancy Pants, ignoring Trixie.
“How goes the situation among our citizenry, Fancy Pants? Any talk of revolts or dissatisfaction? What about Mareicopa?”
Fancy Pants put his reading glasses over his eyes, and read from a sheet of paper. “You’ll be pleased to know that I have good news on that front. My poll shows that 52% of Canterlot’s unicorns are still approve of you as their leader, and over 70% express pride in the Second Kingdom. Though that will surely go down if the famines get as bad as Peachy Pitt has predicted.
“As for Mareicopa, we have arrested dozens of partisan ponies planning sabotage acts against strategic targets. Most of them are earth ponies or pegasi, of whom half a million still live in the city and have yet to self-relocate. But the good news is that enlistment to the SKAF among Mareicopa unicorns is up. The daily pro-unicorn pep rallies in the town square are getting bigger, as more and more unicorns in former Equestria become race-conscious and learn unicorn pride, like Peachy Pitt here.”
“You know it!” said Peachy Pitt, smiling.
Fancy Pants continued, “We’re holding free remedial magic classes for unicorns of all ages, to make up for the years of paltry public education under Celestia and Luna. Many unicorns in Mareicopa are shocked to discover the diverse spells they can cast with only a few weeks of dedicated training. As I remind the students, the princesses never allowed such instruction in Equestrian public schools due to their fear of a magically-competent unicorn populace.”
Fancy Pants set down his paper.
Blueblood nodded and said, “The partisans in Mareicopa are discouraging, since we could have avoided that by removing the earth ponies and pegasi when we took that city, as I wanted. But right now, we have larger issues to focus on than purifying the city. Good work on the enlistment and pep rallies, Fancy Pants. I see you’re molding Mareicopa into another proud unicorn city like Canterlot, just as you promised. I’m glad that I can count on at least one of my ministers to follow through on his word.”
Trixie jolted ever so slightly in her chair.
“This meeting is adjourned,” Blueblood concluded. “I’ll be discussing further strategies with General Top Brass separately as to how we can put a military stop to the pegasi. At our next meeting on Friday, we will implement these strategies. Good day.”
The ministers got out of their chairs, pushing them in, and filed one by one towards the door. Trixie breathed a deep sigh as she stood up, but her heart skipped a beat when Blueblood spoke.
“Trixie, please see me in my office.”
Like his office above ground, King Blueblood’s bunker office was absolutely exquisite. An old grandfather clock hung up on the wall, crafted in Stirrup by artisan clockmakers. A fine rug covered up the concrete floor, with intricate designs of crimson, saffron, and ochre patterns. A portrait of Blueblood hung from the wall. He was smiling, his golden hair was flowing, and he held a gorgeous rose in his teeth. His desk was large and mahogany, with monogrammed pens sitting atop it.
Blueblood sat behind the desk on a swiveling leather chair. Trixie sat on a small, wooden chair in front of the desk.
“We need to discuss your work, Miss Lulamoon,” said Blueblood. “Now, as you said today, you’re working on studying intangibility magic, yes?”
“Yes,” said Trixie. “Very soon, we hope to find out exactly how to do it.”
“Of course, ‘soon,’” said Blueblood, sighing. He buried his face in his hooves and then looked back up at Trixie once more. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s always ‘soon’ with you, Trixie. It’s never today or tomorrow or the fifth of next month; it’s far off in the future. It’s some nebulous, distant thing that never comes. Our kingdom is in trouble, and I need to know that I have competent, capable ponies supporting me. General Top Brass captured Mareicopa and has defended our current front lines successfully, even facing a five-to-one disadvantage. Fancy Pants has kept me popular. Flim and Flam were incompetent drunks, but Peachy Pitt at least has given me cold, hard facts. But you? You have a productivity problem, Miss Lulamoon.”
She flinched.
Blueblood continued, “You’ve been my Magical Research Minister for five years, and all that you have to show for it have been buffalo lightning cannons. These were hard to manufacture on a large scale. Lightning is also a useless way to take out someone in an underground trench. And those killer wasps are impractical and indiscriminate. So, please, name one practical advancement that you have made in the last five years that has given our army any sort of lasting edge.”
“Uh… well…” Trixie stammered. “Nothing yet, but these things take time! And we’re really close to intangibility. That’s huge. We broke the subject and got her to cooperate; now we’re just waiting to get the results back. I don’t know when exactly, but it will be—”
Blueblood slammed his hoof on the table. “If you say ‘soon’ to me one more time, I will terminate you, Miss Lulamoon! Give me an exact, fixed date when it will be done. I’m tired of your obfuscation and lack of results. It’s time to hold you accountable!”
Trixie gazed to the floor and gulped. Blueblood had finally snapped about her lack of results. She had dreaded this day. But what could she do?
“I’ll have it done…” she started.
“Yes?” Blueblood asked, tapping his hoof on the ground.
“...By October thirt—”
“It’ll be too late by then. Sooner, please.”
“—September. I’ll have it done by September 15th,” said Trixie.
Trixie nodded. “After I find out exactly how the subject does it, I will present you with instructions on how our soldiers, too, can cast the intangibility spell.”
“Or what?” asked Blueblood.
Trixie gazed to the floor. “Or I’ll resign my post.”
Blueblood smiled. “There. That’s more like it! A specific, measurable, concrete goal. You will give me instructions as to how our soldiers can cast the intangibility spell by September 15th, or you will resign your post, and I’ll replace you with somepony more capable. Thank you, Trixie.”
Blueblood extended a hoof, and Trixie shook it. Then, she got to her hooves, turned around, and headed for the door.
“Oh, and one more thing I want you to do while you’re with Miss Cake, Trixie,” said Blueblood.
Pumpkin Cake sat inside of the observation room, a book held in her magic as her eyes scanned across the page. It was a detective dime novel: not the best read, but something to keep her entertained.
Ever since Pumpkin Cake had first cast the intangibility spell on the water tank, Trixie and Stekton’s treatment of her had entirely changed. They had started giving her small creature comforts like books to read, dandelion sandwiches, and an actual bed to sleep on instead of the floor. They even gave her ice cream one time. The best part was, they had kept the anti-magic field off, so Pumpkin now could cast magic whenever she wanted, though they warned her that she was still constantly monitored and any attempts to escape would result in them revoking her privileges.
Pumpkin was sure that they were trying to make her feel at ease so that she would get complacent and be more cooperative. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book. In fact, it was even in the book that she was reading, where Detective Cold Case started schmoozing the suspect until he sang like a birdie and gave up his accomplices. Trixie and Stekton had even pulled the good cop, bad cop routine, with Stekton donning the role of objective, calculating scientist who would always keep a stone cold face and would never refer to Pumpkin by name (it was always ‘the subject’), while Trixie was a bit more polite, smiling and referring to her as ‘Miss Cake.’
Their methods of studying her had changed, too. Rather than getting her to cast the spell on a sensor, they instead made her wear a bizarre-looking metal helmet with wires and lights on it, to scan her brain. She tried wrenching it off with telekinesis, but the lock was too strong. Teleportation wouldn’t work since the helmet would end up just teleporting along with her. She wanted to phase it off, but she realized that doing this may actually give them data.
There was always a delay between her or any other unicorn deciding to cast any spell and then actually doing it. If certain areas of her brain lit up before the helmet was off, and the helmet detected it, then they would get data. But of course, they used the water tank trick again in short order, so they must have gotten some data from the helmet. She wasn’t sure how much, but wanted to make it sure it was as little data as possible, so she endured the extreme thirst when she had to. Which thankfully, was only about once a week. Otherwise, they gave her all the water she wanted and didn’t make her wear the helmet.
As for her self-taught studies in magic, Pumpkin had come up mostly empty-horned. She’d tried energy beams, but had cast little more than a minor ball of light that bounced off the walls until petering out. She’d have tried making it stronger, but didn’t want to make too much noise, lest the observers catch onto what she was doing. Training hypnosis and mind control spells wouldn’t work, since she didn’t have anypony to try them on.
So Pumpkin put the most time into learning shape-shifting spells, since those only required herself to train on. After all, if she could sneak out during the night disguised as a small critter, she might be able to scamper past the security guards in the hall. Unfortunately, all she had come up with was a spell that could change her coat and mane color. She had actually first learned it quite by accident a week prior, and used it at a bad time, since the first time she did it, Trixie Lulamoon had been secretly watching through the window.
“Looks like somepony is tired of being a redhead,” said Trixie over the loudspeaker, making Pumpkin jolt. “You know, I used a hair color change spell on a pony once. Turned her hair green, and she wailed like a baby. But why the new hair? You had such a nice coat and mane before, Miss Cake.”
“Oh, uh…” the blue-coated Pumpkin stammered, “Just liked a change.”
Trixie chuckled. “Perhaps somepony is developing Stockhorse syndrome and is imitating yours truly. I’m quite flattered. Blue is such a lovely color.”
Pumpkin shuddered in disgust at the idea of resembling Trixie, and instantly changed back to her regular coloring. After that, she made sure that she only attempted shape-shifting spells at night when they dimmed the lights.
“Hey, Pumpkin Cake. Say cheese. Mmm… cheese...”
Startled, she glanced up from the dime novel over at Snails, who stood with a camera. Her eyes were blinded by the sudden burst of the flashbulb, as out popped a photograph of her.
She raised an eyebrow. “What’s the picture for?”
Snails chuckled. “Oh, you know. Documentation.”
He rushed out the security door.
Pumpkin Cake set down the book. She had been here for months and they had never taken any pictures of her before. Why would they start now?
Were they indeed putting it in their file, or was that a lie? Perhaps they would show it to somepony, but who wanted to see a picture of Pumpkin? Pinkie Pie, Applejack, and Twilight Sparkle already knew what she looked like. Maybe Pound Cake would want to see it to know she was still alive, but Pound Cake was dead.
Or is he? she thought. Perhaps Trixie had been lying to break her spirits, and Pound was still out there. But why would Trixie be telling him about her? Why tell him that they had her, so that he could just try to rescue her? It didn’t make any sense. It was better for them if he thought she was dead, so that he wouldn’t cause trouble.
Get Detective Cold Case on it, she thought.
“And then… boom! Salt everywhere! It’s like a pretzel down there now. We’ve probably killed half of their crops, and we won’t stop ‘til they give up!”
Applejack, Big Macintosh, and Granny Smith all hooted and hollered as Pound Cake finished up his story. Aunt and Uncle Orange both rolled their eyes at the unrefined display of table etiquette.
“Quite a feat,” said Uncle Orange, an orange-coated earth pony with a green, well-groomed mane. He motioned for his waiter, a tuxedoed unicorn with a bow-tie, to come refill his wine glass.
“Indeed,” said Aunt Orange, a bejeweled earth mare with a fancy orange hairdo. She trailed off for a few seconds before continuing. “You know, salt poisoning is quite a problem for our orange groves down in Tallahorsey. We lost five million bits after the big hurricanes last summer, so now, we’ve genetically modified the species to be salt-resistant.”
“Salt is probably even worse for wheat since it grows inland, and the species isn’t acclimatized to it,” said Uncle Orange. “Though with our wheat plantations in Manesas, we’re more worried about early freezes than salt.”
Pound Cake chuckled. “Too bad most of the pegasi are in the Cloud Confederacy now. Our weather was nicer when Cloudsdale did it. But we’ll bring them back to Equestria soon.”
Aunt Orange said, “This war has made Orange Incorporated lose a fair deal of money. It was much better when the Second Kingdom and Equestria were at peace.”
Pound scoffed. “It was better when the Second Kingdom didn’t exist at all, and Canterlot was part of Equestria. But soon they’ll be back with us, too.”
“Got that right,” said Applejack.
There were a few moments of silence. Then, Uncle Orange said, “Let us not talk politics at the table; it isn’t proper dinnertime discussion.”
“Hear hear,” said Aunt Orange.
Pound Cake raised an eyebrow. He had eaten at the Oranges’ penthouse a few times since the Apple Family had been staying with them, but they’d never shushed him like that before. But as a guest in their home, he was respectful. The awkward silence was soon broken, as there was a knock at the door.
“Who is it, Winston?” asked Uncle Orange.
The tuxedoed unicorn butler walked to the door, gazed through the peephole, and turned back.
“A grey pegasus with odd eyes, sir,” Winston said in a refined Trottish accent.
“Derpy the mailmare,” said Pound Cake.
“She may enter,” said Aunt Orange. The butler’s horn lit up, and in walked Derpy Hooves.
“Oh, hey, Pound Cake. Took me a while to find you!” Derpy exclaimed. She pulled a plain white envelope from her saddlebag.
Pound raised an eyebrow as he took it in his hoof. “Who is this from?”
“King Blueblood. He told me to give it to you directly. Paid me pretty well to rush deliver it to you, too.”
Pound Cake chuckled. “Blueblood trusts you with his mail?”
Derpy grinned. “I’ve told you, Pound Cake; I’m neutral in the war. Everypony trusts me! When I’m not delivering the mail, I’m a diplomatic messenger between Twilight and Blueblood.”
“Well you’re the best messenger we know,” said Applejack, smiling.
“If I wanted to get bad news, it would be from you,” said Granny Smith.
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.
“Now wait a minute, Derpy,” said Pound Cake. “This letter isn’t, like, full of ricin or anthrax, is it?”
Derpy chuckled. “Blue thought you’d suspect poison, so he dictated the letter to me and had me write it on my own stationery and put it in my own envelope. They’ve never left my hooves or my sight.”
“And you ain’t a changelin’?” asked Granny Smith, her eyes leery.
“The changelings are neutral in the war, too. But just in case, ask me something that only I would know,” Derpy suggested.
“I got it,” said Applejack. “What’s the biggest favor anypony has ever done for you?”
Without hesitation, Derpy said, “You, Applejack, when you gave your prize money to fix the town hall that I wrecked. I was so worried that I would have to pay for the damage all by myself, but you really stepped up at that rodeo. I watched the whole thing. Great performance! Oh, and so was the stallion in the ring next to you at the same time, but you were better.”
Her eyes gazed both to the left and right.
“I can tell who’s a liar and who ain’t, and that’s honest-to-goodness the real Derpy!” said Applejack.
“I guess I can open the letter, then,” said Pound Cake. “Let’s see what Blueblood has to say. I’ll bet he’s begging for mercy!”
He used one of the feathers on his wing tip as a letter opener, breaking the seal. He turned the envelope upside-down, and the contents fell onto the table.
There was a single, brief note inside, and it said, “We have Pumpkin Cake. No more salt, or she dies.”
Attached was a photograph of a rather fearful-looking Pumpkin Cake, her pupils wide as she sat on a bed with a book held in her magic. Pound Cake blinked. The Apple family’s jaws dropped.
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw it, either,” said Derpy. “But I think he’s serious, Pound Cake. He sure sounded serious when he said it.”
“Forgery!” Granny Smith cried, pointing her hoof at the photograph.
“I’ve seen many business documents and photographs at Orange Incorporated, and this one appears genuine,” said Uncle Orange. Aunt Orange nodded.
Pound Cake took the photograph in his hooves, examining it closely. He shook his head.
“This doesn’t make any sense to me, though. I looked for Pumpkin Cake for weeks. You guys helped,” he said, looking at Applejack and Big Macintosh, who nodded. “I’m sure she died in the Siege of Appleloosa. If she had been in the desert, we would have found her.”
“Maybe she got taken as a PO dubya,” said Applejack.
“But how, though? How could they have captured her alive, without her escaping with magic?” asked Pound.
“Maybe they cut off her horn,” said Derpy.
“But she’s using magic in the picture, right here!” Pound Cake exclaimed, pointing at the floating book in front of Pumpkin.
“Oh,” said Derpy, blushing. “I forgot about that.”
“It sure is fishy,” said Granny Smith.
“Why would they have captured her, anyway? To get her to farm again? To hold for ransom against me? But then how, if she can use magic? This makes no damn sense!” Pound Cake shouted, slamming his hoof against the table. Aunt and Uncle Orange jolted.
A few seconds later, Aunt Orange said, “You’re assuming that she was captured, but perhaps she switched sides voluntarily. I never met the girl, so I don’t know her politics, but maybe she’s willingly working for Blueblood now. She may not even know she’s a hostage. Why would a captive have books to read and a nice bed to sleep on?”
Pound Cake put his chin on his hoof. “Hmm. Pumpkin did sometimes complain about unicorns being treated like garbage in Appleloosa, but they kinda were treated like garbage. Pumpkin badmouthed Princess Twilight sometimes, but that doesn’t make her a traitor. I don’t agree with Twilight 100%, either; look at Hollow Shades. And for all the bad things she had to say about Equestria, she had twice as much to say against the Second Kingdom. She was enslaved by them once, you know.”
“And look at her face in the picture. That’s a look of horror and defeat if ever I saw it,” said Applejack, pointing at Pumpkin’s wide eyes and shocked face. “She ain’t no turncoat.”
“So many different idears about this,” said Granny Smith.
Pound looked over at Derpy. “Please tell me that Blueblood said more than what’s in the note, Derpy. We need more to work with.”
Derpy shrugged. “Nope, that was all he told me. Pretty cryptic.”
“Hmm,” said Applejack. “Maybe they’re lyin’ and she ain’t with them at all. Maybe she’s livin’ in an apartment someplace, and they just snapped a picture of her through the window of wherever she’s stayin’. But they’ll shoot more than just a picture next time. I’ll bet they got snipers trained on her.”
Pound Cake shook his head. “If she’s still alive and walking free, why hasn’t she come to find me, or at least written me a letter? I mean, I’m famous now, so it’s not like I’m hard to find. She’s probably seen all of the newspaper reports about me, unless she’s living under a rock, or underground.”
“But she is,” said Big Macintosh.
They all looked over at him, puzzled.
He pointed with his hoof towards the concrete wall in the background. Then, he pointed towards the concrete floor under the bed.
“Bomb shelter,” he clarified.
Pound Cake’s jaw dropped. Then, he smiled. “Of course! They captured her to study her! Trixie’s the magic research minister, right? And the intangibility spell is so rare, it’s like the sonic rainboom of magic. So Trixie must’ve found a way to capture Pumpkin, then they dropped her into some bomb shelter, magic-proofed the exits, and now they’re seeing how she casts the spell so they can learn it themselves! Which they haven’t yet, or they would’ve gained some major ground in the war.”
“That’s a tall tale if ever I heard one,” said Granny Smith, rolling her eyes.
Applejack looked around the room at the ponies seated around the table and said, “Well, can any of y’all think of a better explanation?”
Nopony spoke.
Pound Cake chuckled. “You know what this means, right? They’re bluffing! They won’t kill the golden goose. I mean, if they do, then I’ll just keep salting the crops anyway, so they have nothing to gain by killing her, because it won’t stop me. But they have to keep her alive and keep studying her in case they learn that spell.”
“If that is indeed what they’re doing, which it very well may not be,” said Aunt Orange.
“What else could it be? We ruled out defection. Even if she’s on their side, they still wouldn’t kill her, because she knows that spell,” said Pound.
Aunt Orange remained silent.
“Beats me, too,” said Derpy, her characteristic grin disappearing for a few seconds. “But Blueblood said I should report back. I just hope that for your sake, you’re right, or your sister could die.”
“Family first,” said Big Macintosh.
Pound shook his head. “I know I’m right. He’s bluffing, and she’s not in danger. Even if she was, she could hold her own. Good bye, Derpy. Tell Blueblood to get bent. The next letter from him had better have a white flag in it.”
Derpy nodded as she turned back around to deliver the news back to Blueblood.
Aunt and Uncle Orange walked into the pitch-black master bedroom of their penthouse, as the Apples and Pound Cake were in the dining room eating dessert. The Oranges shut the door behind them, speaking into the darkness.
“He didn’t fall for it,” said Aunt Orange.
“He saw right through Blueblood’s ruse,” said Uncle Orange.
“What? But how?”
“You should have seen it. He and the Apples guessed correctly from little details in the photograph, along with logical deduction into Blueblood’s motivations, and then sent the mailmare on her way,” said Aunt Orange.
“Heh. Smart kid.”
Uncle Orange shook his head. “Yes, Pound Cake is both intelligent and reckless: a dangerous combination. I would think that, of all things, the love of his own sister would make him stop. How would he have known for certain that he was right about Miss Cake being a valuable test subject that they’d never kill? He wouldn’t. Indeed, he just so happens to be correct, but he didn’t know for sure. Even the slightest lingering doubt would stop any normal pony from taking an action that could potentially kill his own twin sister, the country be damned.”
“Maybe Pound’s not a normal pony.”
“You should hear him. His patriotism is sickeningly strong,” Aunt Orange scoffed. “Your uncle and I have each other, our family, and our business. All three are now in danger from Pound Cake’s wanton destruction of the Flatlands.”
“Well then, Auntie,” said Peachy Pitt, her smiling face finally visible as her horn lit up, “we’ll just have to try harsher measures to stop him.”
“...And then the mare says to him, ‘Sure thing! You seem like a down-to-earth kinda guy.”
The apple family burst out laughing at Pound Cake’s joke, with Applejack slapping her knee. Aunt and Uncle Orange silently sighed at such dinnertime conversation, but didn’t bother to say anything.
There was a loud banging at the door, making the Apples and Pound turn towards it. The banging continued, and was now interspersed with the sound of splintering wood. Small cracks appeared in the gorgeous mahogany door, next to the handle, as the banging became louder and more frequent. Finally, a single crimson hoof burst a hole through the door. The handle glowed blue as it unlocked and opened, and in stepped a crimson unicorn stallion with a navy blue mane and eyes, wearing a ski mask and holding a pistol in his magic.
“Down on the ground, everypony!” he commanded in a gruff voice.
The family panicked, all falling to the floor next to the dinner table as the masked stallion approached. Pound’s ears jolted up as the unicorn cocked the gun and pointed it squarely at him. He jumped as Applejack flipped up from the floor, turned around, and bucked the dinner table over at the unicorn with a tremendous kick that cracked like a whip.
The unicorn ducked as the table flipped over him and smashed against the back wall, food and drink splattering everywhere. The table wrenched the gun out of his grasp, which fired off a single shot. There was a crash as the bullet shattered the large dining room window overlooking Manehattan below. Ponies down on the city streets cried out in shock as broken glass rained down on them.
The stallion desperately eyed the room for his gun, his head shifting from side to side, but he couldn’t find it. Instead, he bolted over to Pound Cake, and a blue field surrounded Pound as he felt his wings being strained, contorted, and pushed in every which direction.
“Aah!” he cried in pain, desperately trying to wrench free of the telekinetic force and resist his wings being broken.
“Nope!”
The unicorn flew out the broken window after a swift kick from Big Macintosh, who had snuck up behind him.
Quickly flexing his wings and finding that the unicorn hadn’t done any damage to them, Pound Cake took off through the window to try to catch the still-falling burglar. He flew as fast as he could, the cool night air rushing through his mane, but a flash surrounded the falling unicorn’s body, and he disappeared out of thin air.
Pound cursed, turned around, and flew back through to the penthouse window, where Applejack and Granny Smith were gazing out, watching. Aunt Orange was sitting on the ottoman crying, and both Winston the butler and Uncle Orange were consoling her. Big Macintosh was on the telephone.
“He’s callin’ the police,” said Applejack.
Granny Smith sat in a chair, staring off through the window, shaking her head.
“Darned robber,” she cursed.
Pound Cake sat down, too. He was still shaking from the adrenaline as his thoughts raced. Despite everything he had been through: the battles, attacks, and sabotage acts, he’d never just been in a plain old burglary before. Of course, he and Pumpkin had burgled before at the armory, but he’d never been on the receiving end.
Though that didn’t seem like an ordinary burglary. The stallion didn’t even try to get any valuables. Instead, he seemed to be directly targeting Pound Cake. Indeed, he had tried and failed to break his wings.
It almost seemed to Pound to be an assassination attempt. He had survived several attempts on his life recently. Sometimes, ponies would take a shot at him while he was flying by on a city street in Manehattan, but they all missed. The shooters might have been Second Kingdom agents or sympathizers, or they could have just been the usual garden-variety crazies who targeted any celebrity or pony in the public eye; he didn’t know.
Pound had started wearing body armor whenever he went out in public, but didn’t think that he needed to wear it at a private dinner gathering at the Oranges’ fiftieth story penthouse. After all, it was a really nice place, and though he may have been followed up to the front doors from the street, he surely hadn’t been followed through the halls inside, since he’d been looking out for tails. So how did the stallion find him? Was Derpy followed back from the Second Kingdom?
She is awful clumsy sometimes, he thought. The assassin may very well have followed Derpy back without her even realizing. That, or he just used whatever methods at Derpy’s own disposal to find Pound Cake. Pound had thought that his itinerary was a closely-guarded secret, but maybe it wasn’t. He would have to talk to Featherweight about that. Also, he would have to hire a bodyguard. Maybe Bulky Biceps would be up for the job.
There was a knock at the destroyed penthouse door. Winston opened it, and in walked two Manehattan police officers, a mare and a stallion. They wore light blue uniforms, long black ties, and octagonal police hats. Both were pegasi, and both had tan coats and black manes. As with the Royal Guard, big city police often dyed their manes and coats to look alike.
“So, this is the site of the burglary?” said the policemare.
“Yes,” said Uncle Orange.
Her partner nodded, getting out a notepad and scribbling some information down.
“I’m officer Killarney, and this is me partner, officer Reinstein. You know, we don’t normally get break-ins on this side of town. It’s quite a nice area,” the policestallion said. He was tall and spoke with a whimsical-sounding foreign accent that Pound couldn’t quite place.
Over the next few minutes, the Apples and Pound Cake relayed as many details about the robbery as they could remember, down to the description of the stallion, Applejack’s table-bucking, and the stallion’s telekinetic attack on Pound Cake.
“I think it was an assassination attempt on me, instead of a burglary,” said Pound Cake.
The policestallion and mare both laughed.
“This has all the hallmarks of a burglary,” said the policemare. “The ski mask, the door breaking, angrily ordering everypony down on the ground: that’s what robbers do. I know you’re a celebrity, Mister Cake, but not everything revolves around you. When he attacked you, the burglar was probably just trying to disable the pegasus who could have flown off and alerted the police before he finished ransacking the place.”
“It would have been pointless, since we have a telephone. Though the burglar likely wouldn’t have figured that, since we’re one of the few families that can afford a house phone yet,” said Uncle Orange.
“This is a very rich penthouse, after all,” said Aunt Orange. “Perhaps the burglar believed he could have gotten our diamond jewelry or rare vases.”
Pound Cake nodded. Maybe it really was a burglary, and he was just being paranoid after having to dodge bullets in the street.
“Gutsy burglar, methinks,” said the policestallion. “We patrol the nice area of town more than the slums, so the crooks don’t usually target rich folk. If they do, we almost always catch them. That is, so long as the victims cooperate.”
“Speaking of,” said the policemare, walking over to Aunt and Uncle Orange. “We’ve been at this crime scene for an awful long time, haven’t we, Killarney?”
“We certainly have, Reinstein,” said Killarney. “I was thinking about leaving to get some doughnuts.”
“You’ve been here five minutes,” said Granny Smith flatly.
“Our investigation here is concluded for now,” said Officer Reinstein.
“But you didn’t even take a look at the pistol that the stallion dropped here! You haven’t looked for hoofprints or interviewed anyone out in the hallway who might have seen him walk up,” Pound Cake urged.
“Why don’t you leave the detective work to the police,” the policemare replied, rolling her eyes.
Officer Killarney walked up to Aunt and Uncle Orange. He smiled and said, “Of course, we’d love to stay and investigate more, but we don’t get paid nearly enough to work this long…”
“Are you hittin’ up my rich aunt and uncle for bribes?” Applejack demanded, her face in a scowl.
“Bribe is such an ugly word,” said Officer Reinstein. “We like to call it ‘spreading the wealth around.’”
“That is quite alright, thank you,” said Uncle Orange. “The burglar didn’t take anything; he just caused a bit of damage, but Winston can easily repair it. Thank you for your time, officers.”
“Good evening, officers,” said Aunt Orange.
Officer Killarney sighed disappointedly as he walked towards the door.
“Have a nice night, folks,” said Officer Reinstein. Killarney nodded, and they left.
Pound Cake was dumbstruck, his jaw agape.
“What kind of shoddy work was that?” he exclaimed. “They just came here, asked a few questions, and demanded a bribe, then left when they didn’t get it.”
Uncle Orange nodded. “The police patrol the rich areas of Manehattan more often, as a deterrent to criminals who would come from poor areas and steal. In return, whenever a crime does happen, as this evening, the police know rich ponies will reimburse the police for their extra time, since we have the money. Since we didn’t pay them, they left.”
Applejack shook her head. “That’s plum dishonest and ain’t right.”
“Big city crooked cops. Sheriff Silverstar would never take a bribe!” Granny Smith exclaimed.
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.
Aunt and Uncle Orange both shrugged.
“Such is the way of the world,” said Aunt Orange.
Pound Cake shook his head. While the police were busy protecting the rich, the poor slums were lawless and full of gangs, and none of those ponies had the money to pay off the cops, unless they were criminals. Were the cops accepting money from criminals to let them go free if they were caught? Maybe if the price was right, he thought.
Shouldn’t the police protect everyone in town equally, like Sheriff Silverstar did? Shouldn’t the law apply to everypony all the same? Why hadn’t Twilight Sparkle or the Mayor of Manehattan cracked down on this scheme? Pound Cake thought back to all the complaints about President Lightning Dust and the corruption in the Cloud Confederacy. All of his pegasi friends in the Equestrian Loyalty Committee were nostalgic about life under the Princesses, but had it been it truly any better? Or were they just idolizing the past?
He was starting to wonder.
“Sorry about that mess with the burglary, Pound Cake. We shall improve our security so that it doesn’t happen again. Perhaps we can have you over for dinner in the future to make up for this unfortunate evening,” said Uncle Orange.
“Okay,” said Pound Cake, shaking his hoof and Aunt Orange’s hoof. They both smiled at him.
“Take care and stay safe! Good luck killin’ the crops!” said Applejack.
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.
Pound Cake closed the busted door, leaving the Apples and Oranges in the penthouse as he walked down the hallway towards the staircase.
A moment later, he sighed as he remembered that he could have just flown out to the street through their busted window and saved time. But instead, he would have to climb down fifty flights of stairs
The hallway was exquisite, with a long red carpet on top of the hardwood floor, and with chandeliers hanging every ten meters or so. Portraits of famous ponies, mountain scenery, and oceans were hung up all over the walls.
There sure is a lot of stuff that a pony could steal out here, he thought. The burglar would have had to walk past all of it, not bothering to try to steal anything until he got to the fiftieth floor. Pound glanced up and down the hallway. Nopony was in it. He reached over to one of the portraits and removed it from the wall. It wasn’t nailed down or anything. Instead, it was just hanging by a string from the wall. Why didn’t the burglar try to take any of these?
Pound Cake descended the stairs, walked out into the lobby, and out the front door of the complex. The cool night air chilled his coat once again. He gazed up at the full moon and stretched his wings to take off, but a snippet of a conversation around the corner caught his ear.
“...believe that you failed. How hard is it to shoot somepony at point-blank range?”
It was a mare’s voice that he didn’t recognize. He walked a bit closer, careful to stay up next to the wall. It was coming from the side of the building, in the alley. It was around a corner, so he couldn’t see anything other than the long shadows stretching out into the street from the alley.
“Sorry, but I lost my gun. I tried to break his wings, but got kicked out the window by the big red one.”
It was the burglar’s gruff voice. Pound’s heart skipped a beat.
“What’s done is done, I guess. Let’s just hope the kid’s not onto us. The next time the Oranges have him over for dinner, we’ll make another move. Poison his food, blow up a bomb, shoot him point blank, whatever it takes. As long as we save the crops, that’s all that matters. Now go back to Canterlot.”
Pound Cake peered around the corner, careful to only poke his head out as far as he had to. In the alley, illuminated by the moon, there stood the crimson-coated assassin, who was standing next to a unicorn mare who had a brown and yellow mane, and a light-lime colored coat. Her cutie mark was a half-eaten peach. Neither of them were looking in his direction.
Perfect. I’ll sneak up on them and knock them out, he thought.
But they both disappeared in a flash of white light before he could do anything else.
“Damn!” he cursed under his breath.
Pound Cake’s thoughts raced as he thought about what he should do next, when he realized that it wasn’t just him, but perhaps the Oranges’ and the Apples’ lives that could be in danger. They could easily get caught in the crossfire, and he had to go warn them.
Pound Cake flew straight up into the air to the broken window of the Oranges’ penthouse. He found it, and landed in their dining room, where the Apples were busy sweeping up broken glass.
“Oh, howdy, Pound Cake,” said Applejack as he landed inside the room. She smiled. “I already told you that we don’t need help cleanin’ up. We got it just fine.”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh, a dustpan in his mouth.
Pound Cake glanced around. “Where are the Oranges? Where’s Winston?” he asked.
“They went to sleep for the evenin’,” said Granny Smith. “Watcha need?”
“I have to warn you guys about something,” he said. “Outside, I eavesdropped on two ponies in the alley. One was the burglar.”
The Apples’ eyes widened.
“He was an assassin from the SK. He was talking to this unicorn mare about how they were going to try to kill me the next time I’m over here. She had a really light green coat, almost white, and she had a brown and yellow striped mane—”
“Wait a minute…” Applejack interrupted. She paused for a few seconds, and then chuckled. “This is silly, but I gotta know. Did she have a cutie mark that looked like a half-eaten—”
“—Peach? You know her?” asked Pound, raising an eyebrow.
Granny Smith, Big Macintosh, and Applejack all looked at each other, their eyes widening in shock.
“Cousin Peachy,” said Big Macintosh, his head lowering.
“How could she?” asked Applejack.
“Now hold y’all’s horses; it might not have been her,” said Granny Smith. “Maybe it’s a strange cooinkydink.”
Pound Cake blinked. “Wait, are you saying that you might be related to this unicorn mare who wants me dead? But why?”
Applejack shrugged. “I don’t know, sugarcube. Cousin Peachy Pitt has always been friendly and nice to me, at least. Other than Pinkie and Derpy, she’s the cheeriest soul I know.”
“But then what was she doing in the alley? If it was her, that is,” said Pound. “Why would she be with the Second Kingdom?”
Applejack said, “Sometimes Peachy complains about how earth ponies treat her bad, but I didn’t take her for a bigot herself. And I can’t see her tryin’ to kill nopony, neither. But what are the chances some other unicorn would look exactly like her?”
“None,” said Big Macintosh.
Pound Cake said, “There has to be a reason. Is there a connection to the Flatlands? The mare said that she needed to make me quit destroying those crops.”
“Maybe Blue hired her,” said Big Macintosh.
Applejack chuckled. “If there was one thing that Peachy loved more than family, it was money. You might be onto something, Big Mac. We gotta do some investigatin’ to find out what’s up.”
“Hopefully nothin’,” said Granny Smith.
“She comes to the Oranges once every couple’a weeks,” said Applejack. “Next time she’s over here for dinner, I’ll ask her some questions about her job. She’s a bad liar, and I’ll know if somethin’ ain’t right. But in the meantime, Pound, you can’t let anypony know we suspect Peachy. Not even Aunt and Uncle Orange. If it turns out that we’re wrong, then we could end up with egg on our faces, and I’d hate to wrongfully accuse her of bein’ a traitor. Of course, if we’re right about her, then she can’t know in that case neither.”
Pound nodded. “I won’t tell a soul. Though I never thought I’d see honest AJ keeping secrets.”
She chuckled. “It ain’t a lie if you just don’t mention it.”
The Canterlot Bunker, August 2025
“We’ve downed some of their carts of salt before they could be spread, but we haven’t ever gotten the pegasus. They have an alert system for when we send our planes out. They come at night, and whenever we finally have him in our sights, he and the others are already gone. I’ve seen several teleport flashes, and they must have a unicorn with them who can teleport,” said Top Brass.
Blueblood shook his head as he looked at the graphs. Unless something on the battlefield changed, two million ponies in the Second Kingdom were already doomed to starve, because they just couldn’t stop Pound Cake.
“Our snipers haven’t got him, either. He’s started wearing a bulletproof vest and switching up his daily routine,” Top Brass added.
“What about the hostage? Didn’t we threaten to kill his sister if he didn’t stop?” asked Peachy Pitt.
Blueblood shook his head. “He told me to ‘get bent.’ Of course, we won’t really kill Miss Cake before we learn that spell, but it was worth a try.”
Peachy Pitt’s jaw dropped in feigned surprise as if she had just learned this. “I can’t believe it! How could he sacrifice his own sister’s life? I mean, he’s not actually, but he doesn’t know that he’s not!”
“We are fighting ponies who have no respect for the unicorn race,” said Trixie. “It’s a genocide.”
Blueblood sighed, placing his head on his hooves.
“I suppose there isn’t anything we can do to stop the salt,” said Fancy Pants. “The attacks aren’t coming from Twilight, so we can’t make a deal with her.”
“I’m sure that she could put pressure on the pegasi if she had to,” said Top Brass. “It might be a volunteer battalion, but she must have some leverage over them.”
“I’ve already tried asking Twilight Sparkle for another truce to give us some breathing room and allow food imports, but she and Luna wouldn’t have it,” said Blueblood. “They know about our food situation and know we’re in a bad place, so they won’t accept anything short of unconditional surrender. At best, surrender means a return to the crippling food tariffs that Equestria placed on their exports when we still relied on them, and giving back Mareicopa. At worst, surrender will mean the end of our kingdom entirely. Twilight and Luna have expressed their desire to bring our land back into Equestria.”
“That would mean living with their anti-magic laws, their taxes, and discrimination again,” said Peachy Pitt. “We can’t.”
“We have to threaten Twilight Sparkle with something that she can’t ignore, to force her into a ceasefire,” said General Top Brass.
“Threaten her with what?” asked Fancy Pants. “We have no military leverage against Equestria, do we? Have circumstances changed on the battlefield recently?”
The general shook his head.
Trixie smiled. “Maybe not military, but we have civilian leverage against Equestria,” she said. “Fancy Pants, there are… how many dirt ponies mucking about in Mareicopa that you’ve refused to get rid of?”
“That was at my urge, Trixie, not his,” the General cut in. “There are excellent hospitals and trauma wards in Mareicopa, staffed by mostly earth ponies. Our casualty rates would go up 50% if we got rid of all of the earth ponies. Also, we’ve had bigger problems to worry about than racial purity.”
“Let Fancy Pants answer the question, General. How many earth ponies and pegasi are in Mareicopa?” asked Trixie.
“Oh, I can answer that,” said Peachy Pitt. “Of the one million or so ponies who remain in Mareicopa, half are non-unicorn. Of those, roughly half are earth ponies and half are pegasi.”
Trixie turned to Blueblood. “What if you could threaten Twilight Sparkle with the lives of 500,000 earth ponies and pegasi if the destruction of our crops doesn’t stop?”
Fancy Pants’ jaw dropped. “What? But that’s—”
“Unrealistic? Yes, perhaps in such a short time. So how about a hundred thousand dirt ponies, then,” said Trixie. “What do you say, King Blueblood?”
King Blueblood blinked several times. The entire room was silent. Blueblood turned his head sideways. Fancy Pants was about to breathe a sigh of relief in anticipation of Blueblood laughing off her idea, but then Blueblood turned to him.
“How feasible would it be, Minister Fancy Pants?” he asked. “How many earth ponies and pegasi can you detain between now and October?”
His head jolted as he sat upright in his chair. “Well, uh, er… I… the work power needed to do such a thing…”
“I’ll double your budget,” said Blueblood. “I’ll send every police officer there from Canterlot that I can spare. I’ll even give you some of Top Brass’ soldiers, if he can spare any. I’ll put all of the public construction crews on building internment camps, and you can put the overflow in the local hoofball stadium until more camps are completed. Chupacabra Stadium seats 60,000, yes?”
“Seventy thousand, actually,” said Fancy Pants, glancing down at the table.
“So, can you detain 100,000 earth ponies between now and October, as difficult as it may be?”
Fancy Pants’ mind raced. Were they seriously discussing perpetrating genocide? The Second Kingdom had done many things he hadn’t been proud of, but he had never thought they would stoop so low as to kill tens of thousands of civilians just so that they wouldn’t have to surrender on unfavorable terms.
Well, they’re only threatening to kill them, so maybe they won’t really do it, he thought. But what if Twilight refuses the cease-fire at first? They could just start killing a few thousand at a time until she gives in. That would be dreadful.
But he had to answer the question, since Blueblood asked him, and he couldn’t appear to be disloyal. Not when he was so close to becoming second-in-line to Bluebood, killing him, taking his place, and signing a peace treaty with Equestria.
Finally, Fancy Pants said, “I could, if I devoted every last bit of my resources to it. But bear in mind that my resources are currently on important things, such as security to prevent partisan attacks, arresting political dissenters, and—”
“That’s fine, we’re about to have to surrender, anyway,” said Blueblood. “This is our last ditch effort.”
Blueblood turned to the other ministers. “I’m not a monster. I only want the Second Kingdom to be allowed its freedom. I certainly hope that I don’t have to have any of the inferior ponies killed, but if Twilight Sparkle doesn’t command those pegasi to stop their destruction of our people’s food, and therefore, our lives, then I see no other choice.”
Peachy Pitt shrugged. “It has to be done. We can’t surrender, and we can’t go back to living under the princesses. I don’t want us to have to kill earth ponies either, and hopefully Twilight Sparkle sees reason, so that we don’t have to.”
“There isn’t any military solution in sight, and this could give us some breathing room,” said General Top Brass. “Every last one of my able-bodied soldiers are needed on the front lines to hold them, but I’ll see if I can apportion our regular Mareicopa defense garrison to the task since they’re in the city anyway.”
Trixie nodded. “You know my position, King Blueblood.”
“Then we have a consensus of opinion here,” said Blueblood. He turned to Fancy Pants. “Please begin rounding up the earth ponies and pegasi, Fancy Pants. Whether you can get 50,000 or 100,000, it doesn’t matter, but the more the better, and I want 50,000 at the minimum. Start with the unemployed, homeless, elderly, orphans, and others who don’t contribute to the economy. They’ll be easier to round up, and fewer ponies will complain when we do. Leave the doctors, nurses, businessponies, engineers, and scientists alone; we need them for our war effort. If possible, don’t separate parents from children.”
Fancy Pants weakly nodded. “Yes sir,” he muttered.
“The key is to register on Princess Twilight’s radar of who she cares about,” said Blueblood. “Though the Princesses had no problem sacrificing the unicorn children in Ponyville, or sacrificing Appleloosa, those were small numbers of ponies. I doubt that even Twilight or Luna could sacrifice the lives of a hundred thousand ponies in Mareicopa who they still consider to be their own citizens. Even if the princesses don’t give in, the pegasi battalion may stop poisoning the crops just all on their own if we threaten them directly.”
He turned to the rest of his ministers. “You’re all dismissed.”
August, 2025
Fancy Pants sat inside of his office in Mareicopa, working on some paperwork. The window was open as the hot desert air was kept at bay by a window fan, and a light breeze blew through, providing small relief from the sweltering heat. He wiped his forehead with his hoof, removing the beads of sweat accumulating on his fur.
“Hey, Fancy Pants.”
He gazed up and smiled as Amethyst Star turned visible, appearing in front of his desk.
A relieved look spread over his face. “Hello, Agent Sparkler. It’s nice to see you again. I can’t remember the last time we met!”
“Well sorry that I’m not meeting you every day for dinner and a show,” Amethyst Star quipped. “It’s been four weeks, and I’ve been busy stalking Trixie and doing some reconnaissance work on her. It’s really hard to get into that science lab of hers, even while invisible. They have state-of-the-art security there.”
Fancy Pants nodded. “I understand how risky it is to get caught. Believe me, since I turned coat, I’ve never stopped looking over my shoulder.”
“That’s why you’re called a turncoat: you turn around a lot,” she chuckled. “But the plan is in place to kill Trixie, you’ll be happy to know.”
Fancy Pants shook his head. “Trixie is already on thin ice with Blueblood. From what he told me, she hasn’t gotten results to his liking. Are you sure that you want to assassinate her when she could just be terminated soon, anyway? Why raise unnecessary suspicion?”
Agent Sparkler chuckled. “I’m two steps ahead of you, Fancy Pants. If Trixie doesn’t discover instructions on how to cast an intangibility spell within the next month and a half, she’s terminated. My plan is just a backup in case she all of a sudden gets results. You know, it’s just like how Equestria has plans for a zombie apocalypse, too.”
“I’m guessing that you don’t think that’s likely,” Fancy Pants said.
Sparkler let out a hearty laugh. “As likely as the zombie apocalypse. Intangibility is a red herring. We have dozens of highly-trained unicorn agents in RISK. They know all sorts of magic, but not one of them can walk through walls, try as they might. Trixie’s test subject must be one-in-a-million.”
“And Miss Cake’s brother, Pound, can create a sonic rainboom,” said Fancy Pants. “I say, what a remarkable pair of twins.”
“Speaking of, I hear that the crops are dying,” said Sparkler. “We may not even need to carry through on our assassination plan of Blueblood at all, if the Second Kingdom runs out of food and is forced to surrender.”
“That… was actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” said Fancy Pants, sighing as he put his hoof to his forehead.
“What?”
“I believe Blueblood has gone mad. He has ordered me to start detaining all the non-unicorns in this city. Then, he’s going to threaten Twilight Sparkle: if the crops aren’t spared, he’ll start slowly killing them until the attacks stop.”
Sparkler blinked. “That’s—”
“Terrible?” Fancy Pants said.
Sparkler scratched her head with her hoof. “I was going to say ‘genius,’ actually. Evil genius, don’t get me wrong, but genius nonetheless. It puts Princess Twilight in an impossible position. She and Luna will know that whatever they do, if they get too close to winning the war, hundreds of thousands of innocents will be killed. Whether it’s with the crops, or something on the battlefield, Blueblood will have thousands of trump cards.”
Fancy Pants buried his head into his hooves.
“Well, I’ll let Twilight know about this, just so that she has time to plan for it,” said Sparkler. “It’s just more evidence that Blueblood and his regime can only safely be tackled from within, by a pony like you.”
“What should I do?” asked Fancy Pants. “I’ve been drawing up preliminary plans for this detention, and the crews have begun setting up detention centers around town, but it’s entirely unconscionable to begin the roundup itself. I can’t bring myself to it.”
Sparkle asked, “Well, if you don’t do it, what will happen?”
Fancy Pants shrugged. “I suppose that Blueblood will put somepony else in charge of it. Though they may not be as competent as I, since I know this city and have experience here. But I do believe that it will get done, whether through me or somepony else. Blueblood is determined.”
Sparkler said, “As much as I hate to say it, I think you have to go ahead with it, Fancy Pants. I could send some of the Mareicopa partisans to attack the camp guards, but I don't have nearly enough. Maybe you could stall it a little yourself through administrative red tape, but not by much, or Blueblood will be suspicious. I mean, you’re only detaining ponies, not killing them just yet, and if you don’t do it, then somepony else will. So let’s weigh your options: you round up the earth ponies and remain in your position and eventually kill Blueblood, then stop the genocide once you’re in charge. That or Blueblood fires you for refusing, you don’t get the chance to kill him, and the earth ponies end up dead anyway, just maybe a little later.”
Fancy Pants remained silent.
Agent Sparkler said, “I know what I would do. It’s not easy, but it’s the best of two terrible choices.”
Fancy Pants’ eyelids narrowed as he stared off into the distance. Water formed in his eyes, but he held back the tears. Amethyst Star leaned in towards him and put her hoof on his shoulder.
“It will all be over soon,” she said. “Once Trixie is fired, we can go and kill Blueblood, and you can stop this madness.”
He nodded, as she gave him a hug. She disappeared once more, her horn illuminating the door as she crept out into the hallway, unseen.
“...so I told Fancy Pants that he needs to go ahead with rounding them up, since if he doesn’t do it, King Blueblood will just fire him and it’ll still be done anyway. Blueblood wants to make this sick trade: stop starvation to stop genocide,” said Amethyst Star.
“A genocide?” asked Twilight Sparkle, her eyes widening.
“That is dreadful news, Agent Sparkler!” Luna exclaimed, slamming her hoof on the table. “We must put a stop to this post haste!”
Twilight Sparkle shook her head. “I’m not willing to win this war if it means hundreds of thousands of earth ponies will die.”
Luna nodded. “I agree.”
Twilight continued, “I’d just sign a truce with Blueblood before that happens, even though I don’t want the Second Kingdom to still exist after everything they’ve done. But maybe we can stop the roundup before it starts. Agent Sparkler, can your partisans in Mareicopa put a stop to this?"
Amethyst Star shook her head. "I only have a few dozen partisans that I trust. It's not enough."
"Then if we can't stop it from within the city, we'll have to send a force there," said Twilight. "General Spitfire, how many troops can we dedicate to Mareicopa? Could we liberate the city in the next few weeks?”
General Spitfire motioned towards a map of Equestria on the back hall of the meeting room. “Well, we’re dug in pretty deep and pretty far from the city. During the early phase of the war, the enemy captured all of the San Palomino desert outside of the city, forming a buffer zone about a hundred miles to the north and east, just outside the desert: along the Everfree River and the nearby grassland and forests. Right now, we’re pretty evenly matched and there hasn’t been much progress along those lines, so we’d need an entire division to break through and then go on to free the city, conducting street to street urban warfare. I’d say forty thousand troops minimum for the whole job.”
She pointed to the north area of the map.
“We could get that number if we shifted some troops from other areas of the front lines, like the Flatlands, for instance. I mean, after the salt poisoning, that land is worthless to the SK, anyway, so why do we need to still be dug into trenches up there? Sure, if we pull out some of our forces, that might mean the enemy could capture some of our farmland adjacent to that area, like in Manesas or Neighbraska, but that’s a risk we’ll have to take.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “Liberate Mareicopa. Gather as many troops from the Flatlands as you need, and cross the desert to free the city. We have to stop the genocide or sign a truce again.”
Luna added, “And we are not signing a truce.”
Explosions and bullets burst as a massive force overwhelmed the Second Kingdom defensive line hundreds of kilometers north of Mareicopa. The SK trenches collapsed under the barrage of heavy artillery and gunfire, as thirty thousand Equestrians of the newly-formed Mareicopa Liberation Division rushed the trenches, firing assault rifles and rockets at the massively overwhelmed unicorns. Spitfire observed all of this from the air, as her forces poured through the hole that they had just punched in the SK lines.
The hole was only about two kilometers wide, but her soldiers squeezed through quickly, running into the San Palomino desert like they were in a marathon. After months and months on static front lines, these select stallions and mares were quite eager to stretch their legs and hustle. Pegasi flew through the air about ten meters above the ground, and thousands of earth ponies and unicorns shuffled across the sandy desert floor as fast as their legs could carry them.
The Crystal Empire had even contributed a few battalions, temporarily taking them off of defense duty of the Flatlands and the borders of their empire for this critical mission. The crystal ponies’ coats shimmered like diamonds in the hot desert sun, as sweat dripped from their backs.
They ponies in the Mareicopa Liberation Division only paused to take gulps from the giant canteens around their necks. Most of the ponies weren’t used to the heat, having just come in from the north a few hours ago by train.
Spitfire gazed the gleaming desert city far off in the distance, and thought back to just a few years ago, when she had been looking there for a new house. Cloudsdale and Las Pegasus had just seceded, leaving her old home in a new nation. Mareicopa was hot and somewhat pricey, but it was the perfect place for a general to live. It was close to both the central theater with the Second Kingdom, and the west coast theater with the Zebra Empire. She could have flown to whatever front she was needed on, and then returned home in just a few hours to sleep in her own bed. It was great for her, and it was great for Pound Cake, who had still been living with her, to have some sort of stability in his tumultuous life.
But the Second Kingdom’s forces overwhelmed the city in April 2023, which hadn’t been near the established front lines at the time. In two and a half years, Equestria hadn’t made an effort to retake it until today, their forces being needed elsewhere. It seemed so strange to Spitfire that she was now invading an Equestrian city that she’d once briefly lived in, but she was sure that when her forces arrived, they would be cheered by the residents and greeted as liberators, especially by non-unicorns who had become targets.
Unlike the Second Kingdom’s invasion of Mareicopa, Spitfire’s invasion would be a bit more challenging. No doubt, the enemy had already moved many soldiers to the city to assist in the roundup and eventual genocide. The city was better defended by the Second Kingdom than it had been under Equestrian rule, and taking it would require urban warfare once they arrived, so the element of surprise was critical in this mission.
Like the Second Kingdom’s invasion of Mareicopa, Spitfire was using a blitzkrieg strategy too, and hoped to have her soldiers inside of the city before the Second Kingdom could send its force out into the desert to fight them there. The desert was flat and wide open, with nothing but sand, and it would leave them as sitting ducks. As the Second Kingdom unicorns had shown before, they excelled at desert warfare, being able to create walls of sand with their telekinesis to form a flexible, moving barrier for protection. If the unicorns met them in the desert, the Equestrians could be bogged down fighting them for weeks, by which point the roundup in Mareicopa would be in full swing and it would be too late. Spitfire hoped to avoid this by simply rushing into the city before the enemy could leave Mareicopa and assemble to meet them the desert.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a small explosion and orange ball of fire towards the front of the division. Ponies ducked and took cover as yet another explosion burst out, scattering sand everywhere. She blinked as some of it got in her eyes, and surveyed the sky and the desert surrounding Mareicopa. There weren’t any enemy forces in sight; it was clear all the way from the city to where the division stood, so they weren’t being fired upon. Another explosion rocked the ground.
They’ve mined the desert.
“Halt!” she commanded through her megaphone, motioning with her hooves as the division stopped in its tracks. Medics ran off to tend to the wounded, but everypony else stood perfectly still.
Spitfire had been afraid of this. She had figured that there were at least a few anti-pony landmines scattered here and there throughout the sand, but not as many as she had just seen go off. They still had over half way to go, and already three mines had gone off in the span of just a few seconds. The minefield must have been huge, containing thousands of mines. A big minefield would slow down the division as they sought to avoid it, giving the Second Kingdom more time to muster a defense. That, or the division could just run over the minefield, but they could kill or maim thousands of soldiers depending on how many mines there were. Either option didn’t seem to be a good alternative.
Sptifire’s mind raced as she tried to weigh her options. Her division had about forty unicorn minesweepers, and they could cast detection spells to find the mines and safely remove them with telekinesis. However, mine removal was time-consuming, especially for a mine-field this size, and it could take several hours that she didn’t have to spare. Or, she could just form a narrow column through the minefield and have her soldiers walk through that, but that would create a bottleneck with this many soldiers, taking far too much time.
So instead, she would have to improvise.
Spitfire flew to the front of the column. She shouted, “We have to get across this minefield, all while keeping good enough time to get into the city before they meet us in the desert. Now, I don’t believe our minesweepers can get us through the minefield in time, and we can’t just walk over it. So instead, we’ll fly over it. This will take slightly more time than running on hoof, but a lot less time than minesweeping.”
Her soldiers all looked around at each other, and into the sky above them. Only about a quarter of the soldiers in the division were pegasi. They all held back chuckles and looked confusedly at Spitfire.
Spitfire chuckled, and then smiled. “Now, I know what you’re all thinking: how can we fly over it? We’re all on hoof, and besides a few supply carts, we don’t have any carts or armored pony carriers to hitch the pegasi to so they can carry everypony. But we do have unicorns. Now, when I was assembling this division, I selected quite a few force-field casters, thinking they’d come in handy during our urban warfare to protect captured buildings from enemy mortars. I selected exactly 300 force-fielders. If you all could step forward and stand below me, please.”
The unicorns stepped forward, forming a line below where Spitfire flew.
“Now, normally force-fielding is used for forming a protective bubble or wall around an area, but it can be used for quite a few other things: including creating a flat sheet. If any of you were in the Battle of Galloping Gorge last year, this is actually a strategy the Second Kingdom pioneered that I’m borrowing. Specialist Domely, if you could please demonstrate.
Specialist Domely, a yellow unicorn mare, lit up her horn. In a few moments, a purple sheen appeared on the sand, about ten by ten meters.
“Now, these are perfectly safe to stand on,” said Spitfire. She landed on the flat force-field, standing on top of it to demonstrate. “These platforms can support a lot of weight before they break, all while weighing much less than a similar sized wooden cart. If my math is right, we should have just enough unicorns to cast just enough ‘magic carpets’ for all of the unicorns and earth ponies to stand on safely. Then, we harness the pegasi to the front of the platforms, and they’ll pull them along.
“Pegasi will also fly on the corners and sides to stabilize the platforms and stop them from tipping over. And of course, our scout pegasi will fly ahead to ensure no enemies are approaching. In this way, we’ll hover a few feet above the minefield and glide across. It’ll slow us down, but still leave us enough time to get to the city.
“Force fielders, cast your force fields now. Earth ponies and unicorns, climb aboard. Ten deep and ten wide, for a hundred ponies per ‘carpet.’”
Her soldiers did as they were instructed, with the force-fielders casting flat force-field platforms, and the other ponies climbing aboard. The pegasi hovered in the air, tying ropes to themselves and around the carpets to carry them. In about ten minutes, all 30,000 unicorns, earth and crystal ponies in the division were atop the 300 force field carpets, while the 10,000 pegasi were either pulling them or flying ahead to provide air support.
Spitfire grinned widely as she flew high, high above the platforms, gazing down at the hundreds of squares which covered the sandy landscape like a glowing checkerboard. They were moving faster than she had hoped, and not a single mine had been set off. The sky was clear for as far as she could see; not a single unicorn plane was in the sky.
She shouted down through her megaphone, “Operation magic carpet is a success! To Mareicopa!”
Forty thousand ponies all cheered in unison as they closed in on the city. They had only about a few hours journey left to go.
Fancy Pants and General Top Brass sat together inside of an office building in Mareicopa. On the desk before them sat blueprints, charts, and diagrams of concentration camps that either had been erected, or were almost finished. Due to the short time, it was impractical to build all-new camps. So, instead, they had put the camps wherever there was space in existing buildings. Some of them were in cellars of abandoned buildings, others were on rooftops, and still others were old outdoor basketball and tennis courts that were being converted. The biggest concentration camp, of course, would be in Chupacabra stadium.
Nopony had been detained yet, but that would start in just a week. Fancy Pants was coordinating the effort with Top Brass and his forces. Fancy Pants bit his hooves frequently in anticipation. He had already printed up propaganda posters to hang up all over town when the roundup would begin.
“Better lives for homeless earth ponies and pegasi!”
“Non-unicorns: the city has a place in its heart for you, too.”
“Good flyers and farmers wanted: please report to Carter Center, floor fifteen.”
That would be in the first week, and they would see how many gullible earth ponies and pegasi they could rope in with that. After that, they would switch to more demanding posters such as, “All homeless or unemployed earth ponies and pegasi must report to Chupacabra stadium immediately.”
Fancy Pants wondered how long his conscience would let him lie and participate in such a horrid affair. He could hardly imagine how the earth ponies and pegasi would feel when they showed up to what they thought was a “job fair” or a “homeless shelter,” but instead were held at gunpoint and told they couldn’t leave.
He couldn’t imagine the grief and torment their families would go through, wondering what had happened to their loved ones, and he didn’t even begin to think about the sheer hell that would be unleashed if Twilight was uncooperative and the genocide went through. But hopefully, Agent Sparkler had alerted the princesses, and they were sending forces to stop the roundup.
Fancy Pants locked in on the task at hoof, not wanting to zone out in his meeting. “Alright, so the Royal Promenade will hold about a thousand. We already have bunks, running water, and barbed wires. How many guards can you commit?” he asked.
The General scratched his chin. “It might not be enough. I already have two-hundred assigned to the—”
There was a pounding at the door.
“Come in,” said Top Brass.
The door opened, and in rushed a panting stallion with desert camouflage and a sweaty, dripping mane. He quickly saluted, then stood at attention.
“Yes, Sergeant Popper?” asked Top Brass.
“Sir! I’ve just teleported in from the front lines near the Everfree River. We were overrun by a huge force of Equestrians. They broke through our lines and are crossing the desert as we speak! Our scouts report they will be here within three hours!”
General Top Brass raised an eyebrow. “What? Three hours? We put almost a third of our total landmine stock into that desert! I thought we had more of a time buffer than three hours, Popper.”
Sergeant Popper shook his head. “They sprinted across the un-mined portion on hoof, and are using magic carpet transports to make the rest of the journey. They must have picked up that strategy from us after Galloping Gorge. But since they have pegasi, it’s a lot faster for them to move the force-field platforms along than it was for us.”
Top Brass said, “We have to prepare a defense. Scramble the jets and drop bombs on them! Get our ground troops out of the barracks and into the desert!”
Sergeant Popper said, “It’s already done, sir, but by the time our soldiers reach them, they will be within five kilometers of the city. There is an estimated enemy force of 30,000-60,000 soldiers, whereas our Mareicopa garrison is 12,000, perhaps fifteen if you include some of the lightly wounded in the hospitals. There aren’t enough ponies in this city to put up a defense against the enemy force. They’ll reach the city by tomorrow, maybe Wednesday at the latest. We’ll have to teleport in our urban warfare battalions from Canterlot to stand a chance.”
The general’s jaw dropped. “Sixty thousand enemy troops? That’s over ten percent of their total army!”
Popper nodded. “I don’t know how they mustered those kinds of numbers.”
Top Brass asked, “And why would they risk an invasion, risk taking soldiers away from defending other areas of the front, when they think that we’re about to surrender because of our food shortage? For all they know, they could get Mareicopa back bloodlessly in a few months anyway, when they make us surrender on their terms.”
Popper shrugged. “You said ‘for all they know,’ but perhaps they know something more than you think they do. Though I can’t guess what.”
Top Brass’ eyes widened. “The internment. But that’s a top-secret operation. Nopony knows about that yet except the construction crews for the camps. It’s not supposed to be public until next week when the posters go up, and even those will be fake and misleading for a while.”
He turned to Fancy Pants, crossing his hooves. “You hoof-picked and gave polygraphs to those construction ponies. How could Equestria have found out?”
Fancy Pants shrunk back in his chair. “I haven’t told a soul, general. No need to be cross with me. The internment is a large operation. Hundreds of construction ponies were needed to make it work. Leaks happen, just as you casually mentioned the internment in front of this sergeant just now. Perhaps Equestria captured and interrogated someone. Besides, we don’t even know that the princesses know about the internment. Perhaps their invasion of Mareicopa is a coincidence.”
Top Brass shook his head. “There are no coincidences in war, Fancy Pants.”
The general stood up from his seat, and gave a salute to Sergeant Popper, who gave a salute back, and then teleported away.
Top Brass turned back to Fancy Pants. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an invasion to halt.”
Fancy Pants raised an eyebrow. “How will you stop up to sixty thousand Equestrians with just twelve thousand unicorns?”
“Strategy,” said the General. “I’ve beaten five-to-one odds before; I do it every day against Equestria. Mareicopa will hold, because it has to.”
“The seventeenth airborne squadron can protect the residential suburban district on the north side of Mareicopa. That will be the first place they cross when they enter, and I want them to stay back in case our lines give too early,” said General Top Brass.
Sergeant Popper nodded, the pen in his horn’s grip scribbling down wildly on a notepad.
“Also, we need to form a natural barrier around the airstrip to the north. That will give us control towers and high places to snipe from. I mean, it would be best if we could hold them in the desert where we can make sand barriers, but we may not be able to.”
“Of course, I’ll telegraph a little more optimism to our desert troops about our chance of success,” said Popper, smiling.
“Obviously, morale is key,” said the General. He paused for a moment, looking off into space. Then, his eyes returned to the sergeant. “I suppose that covers everything, Sergeant. You’re dismissed.”
“An hour early?” the sergeant asked.
The general shrugged. “I’m a fast thinker; what can I say? Nothing to do now except wait for their floating force fields to get here and for our army to meet them. Let’s just fight to ensure we keep what little buffer zone we have left in the desert outside the city.”
The sergeant nodded. They saluted each other, and the Sergeant walked out the door, teleporting away.
Top Brass sighed as he thought of his military prospects. Though he didn’t believe that all of Mareicopa would fall to the invaders, he definitely feared that at least some of the enemy forces would infiltrate the city. All it would take would be just a few hundred of them, and they could seriously disrupt or even derail the non-unicorn internment entirely, particularly if they adopted insurgency tactics like the partisans in Mareicopa. And that was a best case scenario.
Perhaps there’s a silver lining, the general thought. If Mareicopa fell, the fronts elsewhere might open up. Capturing Manesas or Neighbraska could become possible, and he bet that Equestria had formed this division with some of the troops from the northern Flatlands. But with Pound the pegasus destroying every field in sight, he’d have to be careful. Thankfully, harvest season was coming up. Salting crops that were already fully grown and ready for harvest wouldn’t kill them, just make them taste salty.
He figured that if Mareicopa fell, it wouldn’t necessarily be game over for the Second Kingdom. They could time their attack on Equestrian farming districts to coincide with the harvest, and capture grain silos with already-harvested grain. Let Equestria do the work. But they couldn’t invade too early or Pound Cake would salt the wheat while it was still growing. October or November would be optimal.
Top Brass fiddled with a pencil, twirling it around in his magic, as he recalled that Trixie Lulamoon was still in Mareicopa. Since she was in the Magical Research Department, she might not have been told about the impending invasion just yet.
I suppose I’d better go warn the poor mare, he thought.
Top Brass chuckled as he walked out the door and into the sweltering city heat. Trixie Lulamoon would’ve made a terrible strategist, he figured. As a general, the first thing he had been taught in military college was to leverage his strengths but understand his own weaknesses, and look for the enemy’s weakness, as well. But he’d never seen Trixie acknowledge any weakness at all. She was so arrogant and self-righteous, she made King Blueblood look like a modest stallion, he thought. Hopefully for her sake, she would listen when he said that she needed to evacuate the city with her valuable test subjects, just in case the city fell.
General Top Brass flashed his military ID at the gatekeeper as she nodded and opened the security door, allowing Top Brass into the research facility. He had come here on a few occasions before, to provide specs for the buffalo lightning cannons when they were under development, for instance.
It was a shame that the buffalo had hardly contributed to the war effort since losing Appleloosa. They blamed the entire rainboom incident on the unicorns and their lack of air support in Appleloosa to stop pegasi attacks, and refused to fight any more. Instead, they were content to sit on their reservations with their shiny new lightning cannons and do who-knew-what all day.
After several minutes walking down the long hallways and stairs, he reached the door to Trixie Lulamoon’s office. He knocked.
“Come in,” she said, and he entered. She frowned upon seeing it was him. “Listen, General, I’m working as hard as I can on that intangibility spell, and I’ll have it at the very earliest that—”
Top Brass shook his head. “I’m not here about that. I’m here to say there’s a massive Equestrian force approaching Mareicopa, and they may enter the city sometime in the next few days. You might not be safe at this research facility, so you may need to relocate to Canterlot.”
Trixie raised an eyebrow. “Our Canterlot research facility is already full of other projects and has hardly enough space. Mareicopa was the overflow area, and convenient for the buffalo so they wouldn’t have to cross enemy territory to get here. Besides, a few of our research subjects in this facility have such specific accommodations, that I couldn’t move them to Canterlot with just a few days’ notice.”
The general shrugged. “I just wanted to let you know. Do what you need to. Anyway, I have a battle to fight.”
He turned around to open the door, just as Snails walked into Trixie’s office.
“Hello, Snails,” said General Top Brass.
“Oh, hey Top Brass,” said Snails, blushing slightly.
Top Brass chuckled. The genetic engineer Snails had worked on a project for Top Brass before, separate from his research into magic. It was a project called Deathwasp 2.0, to genetically engineer deadly stinging insects. The resulting insects’ stings were indeed fatal and very painful. They lived for about an hour and could sting up to three times before dying.
There were some drawbacks that prevented battlefield use, though. The wasps were indiscriminate, and would just as easily sting whoever unleashed them. They could fly up to a kilometer, and in a trench warfare scenario, that often meant that unleashing the wasps inside of an enemy trench might take out that trench, but would also lead to the wasps coming back and stinging Second Kingdom soldiers. If only Top Brass could have gotten more protective suits for his soldiers, but they were prohibitive to manufacture en masse.
For all these reasons, there hadn’t yet been a practical battlefield use for the wasps. But what if… His heart skipped a beat.
“Snails, I have a question about the deathwasps,” Top Brass asked.
Snails turned his head towards the floor. “I thought you said you didn’t like them,” he pouted.
Top Brass shook his head. “Never mind that. How many of those wasps do you still have left? How many can you spare?”
Snails said, “About two thousand, but I have to keep 1,000 of those for breeding stock.”
Top Brass nodded. “That’s okay, 1,000 will work just fine. Drop whatever you’re doing and put those wasps into glass jars. Spread them out over a hundred jars: ten wasps per jar. But I need them within the hour. It’s urgent. I’ll even help you jar them myself if you have a suit for me.”
Trixie’s ears perked up, and a frown spread across her face. “Excuse me, General Top Brass, but the Magical Research Department is a civilian governmental institution, and you have no authority here! Snails was working on another task for me, and I will not have him bossed around by—”
Ignoring Trixie, Snails exclaimed, “You mean you like my wasps now, General Brass?” A big, goofy grin spread across the young stallion’s face, and Top Brass nodded.
“Yipee!” Snails exclaimed.
Trixie opened her mouth to protest, but Top Brass and Snails had already disappeared in a flash of light, presumably to go off to the creature containment level 2 on the other side of the building. She lacked the magical ability to follow them, of course.
The procession of force-fields continued across the desert, carrying ponies atop like the mythical rugs of Saddle Arabia, as Spitfire surveyed the city in the distance. They were so close now, she could see the individual windows on the buildings. She and her soldiers were less than ten kilometers away by this point, she figured. And there still were no SKAF ground forces in sight. Some of the unicorn planes had arrived, but her pegasi had dispatched them before they could start strafing or dropping bombs on the Mareicopa Liberation Division.
Guess Top Brass put too much faith in those landmines, she thought. Then, she chuckled. Top Brass was normally smarter than that. From its inception, the entire war had been a game of one-upponyship between the two rival generals, each trying to outsmart the other. But she would have loved to see the look on his face after finding that she was using his own magic carpet trick against him.
Suddenly, down below, flashes of light erupted in front of the division.
Looks like they’re here, Spitfire thought. She sighed. Hopefully her soldiers could take out the enemy rather quickly and continue the blitz into Mareicopa. The flashes continued and then stopped, and Spitfire had to blink a few times when she counted only perhaps a dozen unicorns in total, standing about ten meters away from the front of the Equestrian division. The sun glinted and shimmered off of their front lines.
Are those… mirrors? Glass? What are they doing? she thought.
Her soldiers at the very front of the division raised their guns and aimed at the unicorns, firing off dozens of shots, with the sound of broken glass interspersed with gunfire. The unicorns disappeared as quickly as they had come. Only two of them fell to the ground, while the others escaped with their lives.
Spitfire laughed. If a dozen unicorns was the best they could do, then taking Mareicopa would be a cinch. The floating platforms continued forward, passing over the space where the unicorns had been. But soon, screams started breaking out from the ponies in her division.
“Get it off! Get it off! AAAH!”
“My skin is on fire!”
“Wasps! Deathwasps!”
The ponies on the platforms rustled and shifted every which way as the platforms passed above the spot of of the broken glass jars. The platforms themselves shifted as several of the pegasi abandoned their spots at the sides or front of the platforms, convulsing and flying around madly through the air to avoid the wasps. Ponies madly swatted at the air and at their coats.
“Pegasi, hold your positions!” Spitfire shouted into the megaphone.
But then, one of the platforms vanished as a a force-field casting unicorn cried out in agony from a sting. Dozens of unicorns and earth ponies on the platform fell the three meters to the ground, though a few of the unicorns were quick enough to catch themselves with their own levitation magic before they fell to the minefield.
Others were not so lucky. Seven explosions went off one after the other as the unicorns and earth ponies scrambled around in a mad panic through the minefield, trying to avoid the wasps and mines all at once.
“Division halt!” Spitfire called out through her megaphone.
But it was too late. One by one, the magic carpets started to disappear, or simply tilt over due to the pegasi abandoning the sides. Hundreds and hundreds of mines exploded one after the other as ponies fell to the ground, and Spitfire had to put her hooves in her ears to block out the tremendous booms and bangs.
“Carpets, fly up higher to avoid the wasps!” she shouted in vain through the megaphone, the cacaphony drowning her out. “Retreat! Retreat!”
The last column of soldiers in the rear, about twenty or so platforms, saw what was going on, and the pegasi at the head stopped going forward. The desert below the bulk of the platforms had become a charred, blackened nightmare, with repeated explosions, pegasi flying every which direction, and unicorns trying in vain to save themselves and their earth pony comrades from falling. Meanwhile, a formation of unicorn fighter planes teleported in above them. Spitfire didn’t even know that they could teleport their planes. The fighters strafed the confused and disoriented Equestrians, dropping yet more bombs on them.
“Retreat! Fall back!” Spitfire shouted into the megaphone. Ponies turned around and flew, floated, or sprinted back as mines exploded and wasps buzzed after them in furious chase.
Despite all of the carnage and chaos, there were feats of bravery and strength. Pegasi flew around, grabbing as many of their comrades in their hooves as they could carry. One unicorn molded his force field sheet into a sphere, enclosing all hundred ponies in a giant ball to protect them from the wasps and mines. About twenty of the other unicorn force-fielders got the same idea, though a few of the force-field bubbles were burst by exploding mines, causing their occupants to fall and suffer the same fate as their comrades.
A gifted telekinetic unicorn saved ten ponies by levitating them all above the ground for thirty minutes, squashing the wasps in his magic. Mine-sweeper unicorns used their magic to detect and clear mines in record time.
One earth pony with strong legs sacrificed himself by bucking the sand, and the vibrations caused ten mines to go off before anypony could fall on them and die. Another four earth ponies stepped off of one of the platforms and got under it after the pegasi flew off, holding all 96 remaining soldiers up, never flinching despite the wasps buzzing around.
Spitfire flew back off towards Equestrian territory, bringing as many survivors with her as possible, mostly pegasi but a few unicorns and earth ponies from the thirty remaining platforms.
The next day, Spitfire received the preliminary casualty report. Nearly ten thousand soldiers had lost their lives or were missing and presumed dead. Five thousand had been taken as prisoners of war by Top Brass’ soldiers, who had arrived at the battlefield after the wasps had all died off from the heat or from stinging too many times. Of the twenty-five thousand soldiers who made it back to Equestrian territory, five thousand were critically injured. It was the bloodiest battle in Equestrian history.
The twenty thousand remaining able-bodied troops in the Mareicopa Liberation Division regrouped the next day and tried an invasion afresh, this time taking the slow, painstaking way of minesweeping the desert and going on hoof. But by that point, the element of surprise was long gone, and the unicorn forces in Mareicopa had made it out to the desert. They stopped the Equestrian division in their tracks, forty kilometers from Mareicopa, where the unicorns fought the desert warfare that they excelled at, holding the new battle lines.
Princess Twilight, overcome with grief at the loss of life, felt compelled to give a speech to the nation. She had prepared a long, multi-page address explaining everything about the so-called “Mareicopa Massacre” as the media had termed it. The speech was supposed to last for two hours, but Princess Luna advised her not to go on for so long. After several rewrites with Luna’s help, Twilight Sparkle finally suggested that Luna give the speech herself.
Luna chuckled at the idea. “Young Twilight Sparkle, you know that I am not the visage of this diarchy. I am content to toil in the shadows, as dark as my mane, unseen but playing a vital role.”
Twilight Sparkle shook her head nervously. “I can’t give every speech. I wouldn’t even know what to say about this… this tragedy.” She sniffled, her eyes misty. “But you, Luna? You’re like bedrock. You took over raising both the sun and moon once Princess Celestia passed just so I don’t have to. You’re my go-between in parliament and help me negotiate with the lawmakers. You advise me in private when nopony else will listen and I’m having doubts. Why not address the nation? You console ponies when they’re having nightmares, and I can think of nopony better to guide us through the waking nightmare of this massacre than you, Luna.”
Luna smiled and nodded in agreement. “I suppose that, to put it in today’s words, I could ‘take a stab at it.’”
Twilight laughed aloud. “Don’t do that in your speech. Sound as archaic as you normally do. You know, I think it makes you sound wiser. You are centuries older than almost everyone in Equestria, after all.”
In a rare occasion, Princess Luna addressed her subjects directly. She stood on the grey granite capitol steps, her blue mane blowing gently in the breeze, as her words rang out through the streets and across the radio airwaves of Equestria. She spoke loudly and firmly, her stone face not betraying any emotion.
“Citizens of Equestria. Our nation was conceived two thousand years ago in firm unity and equality of the three races. These core beliefs are now challenged, as a sect of ponies fights a war against us in favor of its own flawed, broken ideology. This sect is borne of the same rotten selfishness and hatred which once consumed me when I donned the mask of Nightmare Moon. They threaten Equestria and its citizens with total perdition: from the deserts of Mareicopa, to the skyscrapers of Manehattan, to the hamlet of Ponyville.
“Yesterday, our soldiers sought to protect the innocents from genocide in the occupied Equestrian city of Mareicopa. They were massacred in a cowardly act of biological warfare. Despite our losses, our soldiers have shown through their courage that, on this continent, the three races of ponies shall never be divided. For every instance of wretched despair suffered on the battlefield by the maimed and dying, there were yet more instances of heroism and bravery. Unicorns, pegasi, crystal and earth ponies courageously cooperated to keep our losses down, using their magic, flight, and strength to save lives despite the chaos. “Our nation’s greatest strength is the very union of the three races’ unique abilities. No force may defeat a nation founded upon amity and mutual respect of three equal races, or such a nation’s army. As we mourn our losses and our army’s noble sacrifices, we must remember that our struggle continues so that their deaths will not have been in vain. With our acts, we ensure that our posterity shall enjoy a peaceful, prosperous, and united Equestria once more.”
There was a somber applause as Luna left the podium, her head held high. She knew that when Equestria had seen her and heard her speech, they saw confidence and were filled with reassurance.
“Applejack, could you be a dear and pass me a napkin?”
Applejack glanced up from her plate of orange souffle at her Aunt Orange, and reached for the napkins with her hoof and passed one to her.
“Thank you, dear,” said Aunt Orange.
“So, how go the orange groves in Horseshoe Bay?” asked Uncle Orange.
“They’re doin’ swell,” said Applejack. “Big Mac and Granny Smith couldn’t make it up here for dinner since they’re busy preparin’ for the harvest in a couple months. I sure appreciate the management job, though. Y’all are sure that I didn’t get it just because I’m family, right?”
Aunt Orange chuckled. “I appreciate your honesty, but I can assure you that nepotism had nothing to do with it. You have been farming fruit trees all of your life, and you are eminently qualified for your job at Orange Incorporated.”
“If there is one thing that your Aunt and I love as much as our nieces and nephews, it is money, and I can assure you that if your orchards were not producing the results that they are, you would be terminated,” said Uncle Orange.
“Don’t listen to your uncle; we love you more than our money,” said Aunt Orange, lightly elbowing her husband. “So how do you enjoy the area? It is quite different from here in the north, is it not?”
“Well, it’s hot, but I got used to heat when I was in Appleloosa,” Applejack chuckled. “I sure feel at home down south, happier than a pig in mud. The ponies there are all really polite, and all the fried food is great. Oh, and nopony asks me about my accent down there!”
Aunt and Uncle Orange laughed.
“There is one peculiarity about accents that I have noticed on business trips,” said Uncle Orange. “On the east coast, accents differ from city to city. Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Hollow Shades, Baltimare, and Horseshoe Bay each has a unique accent. But further west, the accents sound the same from city to city. Las Pegasus, Tall Tale, Canterlot, Ponyville, and Mareicopa all share one single, monolithic ‘western’ accent. I can’t distinguish one city from the next.”
“That isn’t quite true, dear,” said Aunt Orange. “The Applewood valley is right on the west coast, and has its own flavor of speech, which I find quite repulsive. ‘Like, totally, dude,’ and whatnot.”
“Yes, but is that an accent, or merely the local variety of terminology and slang?” asked Uncle Orange. “For instance, a Trottingham accent is non-rhotic, and wouldn’t pronounce the R sound in words that Equestrians would keep it, such as ‘worm’ or ‘dancer.’ That is a difference in accent. But saying ‘loo’ instead of ‘bathroom’ or ‘water closet’ is a difference in terminology.”
Applejack cut in, “As much as I’d like to hear y’all talk about accents, I gotta use the… um, whatever it’s called in Manehattan. May I be excused?”
“Right down the hallway where it has always been,” said Uncle Orange. Then, he turned to his wife and they continued their debate while Applejack walked down the hallway.
So as not to be made a liar, Applejack indeed walked into the bathroom and did her business, but then when she exited, she didn’t go back to the table just yet. Instead, she eavesdropped around the corner, out of sight of her aunt and uncle. Just as she predicted, they were still having a heated discussion about the finer points of accents.
Perfect. They’re distracted, she thought. Just like she planned. Like her friend Rarity, Applejack’s Aunt and Uncle took great care to refine their accents and way of speaking to sound as sophisticated and classy as possible, but disagreed on the ‘correct’ way to say things. Applejack knew that bringing up the topic could spark a debate, and it had worked perfectly, and provided the cover that she needed.
The last time that Applejack had spoken to cousin Peachy Pitt, she had been strangely evasive when it came to discussing her line of work, changing the topic so that she wouldn’t have to. Applejack hadn’t gotten any good information, so she figured that she would do some investigation into the Oranges to at least clear her aunt and uncle’s good names. Or so she hoped.
Applejack walked further down the hallway until she reached the Oranges’ home office. She creaked open the door and flicked on the lightswitch, as the room illuminated. From inside the office, she could still just barely hear her aunt and uncle’s conversation. As long as they were talking and too distracted to notice that she had been gone for too long, she could snoop around. She walked forward towards the desk.
On the desk were a stacks of papers, mostly business related. There were Orange Incorporated balance sheets, profit and loss statements, invoices, letters, and memos, all neatly organized. Since moving from field labor to management, Applejack had become intimately familiar with corporate Equestria and business documents. She already figured that most of them wouldn’t give her any clues, except perhaps the letters. She scanned her eyes over them, but they revealed nothing except typical corporate back-and-forth.
There were price negotiations with grocery stores and fertilizer providers. Apparently the Oranges were engaged in a fierce negotiation with Filthy Rich over the price of premium shelf space in the produce sections of Rich’s Barnyard Bargains megamart locations.
There was a rather stern letter from a competitor’s lawyer arguing that genetically modified frost-resistant oranges did not fall under Equestrian patent law, and that Orange You Glad Enterprises was free to use Orange Incorporated’s orange seeds in its own orchards without paying royalties.
Then there was another letter addressed to a lobbyist, to get parliament to amend the law regarding patents to be unambiguously in Orange Incorporated’s favor. Another letter contained a quite generous promise of a campaign contribution to a senator from Horseshoe Bay.
No business like agribusiness, thought Applejack.
Basically, there was nothing incriminating in the stack of papers that she could find, other than the typical government-business cronyism any big corporation engaged in, particularly in the Princess Twilight administration. Lobbying was hardly honest, and in Applejack’s eyes campaign contributions were morally equivalent to outright bribery, but none of it was illegal.
Applejack breathed a sigh of relief. At least her Aunt and Uncle weren’t breaking the law, or collaborating with the Second Kingdom. She turned around, and started walking out of the office until she noticed a giant map of the Equestrian continent above the door.
Certain areas of the map were highlighted. There were the orange groves of Horseshoe Bay and Tallahorsey down south, and the wheatfields of Neighbraska and Manesas in the midwest. It was a map of everywhere that Aunt and Uncle Orange had agribusiness holdings. Pretty typical. But then, at the very top of the map, north of Canterlot, a giant area inside of the northern flatlands was shaded.
Applejack gasped. Her Aunt and Uncle had holdings in the northern flatlands of the Second Kingdom. She didn’t know how, since they were earth ponies. Maybe they owned a shell corporation through Peachy Pitt, or maybe Blueblood had relaxed his racial ownership laws, but either way, they were betraying Equestria through shady dealings. Now, the ‘burglary’ made sense. It had been a failed assassination attempt on Pound Cake’s life, and her backstabbing aunt and uncle and cousin Peachy had indeed orchestrated it to protect their business interests.
Mareicopa Research Center, September 15th, 2025
Trixie sat inside of her office in the Department of Magical Research. A cup of coffee levitated in front of her, jittering in the wavering field of her magic as it floated up to her lips and she took a gulp.
Today was it: the final day before the deadline. She was supposed to get results back about Pumpkin Cake, and learn once and for all exactly how the intangibility spell worked, and how other ponies could cast it.
That is, if Doctor Stekton would get to her office already. The clock on the wall read 5:03. She had to have enough time to board a train back to Canterlot to tell Blueblood the news, and the last train that day left at seven. But until then, all she had to do was nervously wait. She tried to keep herself occupied by doing work on some of her other research project—after all, Pumpkin Cake was just one of the department’s many promising magical subjects—but couldn’t keep her thoughts from racing back to the deadline that Blueblood had given her. Her job itself didn’t hang on any one of her other subjects.
Trixie had never intended to be working right up to the last minute before Blueblood’s deadline. She had implored Stekton to speed up his research over the past few weeks as the deadline drew nearer, to give herself a nice time buffer. He had continued to tell her that he needed more time, that science doesn’t function on a deadline. But they made the best of what few days they had. Trixie and Stekton had devoted all of their waking hours to research, pulling 80-hour weeks along with Snips and Snails to try to save Trixie’s career at the Ministry, all to get the final result in today.
The door creaked open and the coffee cup fell out of Trixie’s magic and to the floor. Thankfully for her, there wasn’t any coffee left in it.
“Hello, Doctor Stekton,” said Trixie, jittering slightly in her seat as he walked in, a stack of papers floating in his magic. “I trust that you finally have the results of the subjects’ brain scans in, and know exactly how this spell works, yes?”
Stekton nodded. Trixie smiled. She waited a few moments, then the smile disappeared from her face.
“Well, aren’t you going to tell me, Dr. Stekton?”
“Yes,” said Stekton. “Though there isn’t any easy way to tell you this. I’ll just be blunt: the intangibility spell is genetic magic.”
“Genetic magic? What do you mean, ‘genetic magic?’” Trixie demanded, scowling.
“I mean exactly what I said,” said Stekton. “It’s genetic, just like earth pony farming magic is genetic. Look at marker number seventy-one.”
He levitated up a black and white photograph, with banded pictures of chromosomes. The portion of interest was circled in red.
Stekton explained, “The subject has markers that our geneticists have never seen in any other unicorn. Just to be sure, I had Snails take a DNA sample from every single unicorn who works here, which is some fifty ponies. None of them had it. The subject is in an extreme minority, I’d estimate less than a fraction of one percent, when it comes to this particular genetic sequence. This could explain how she can cast such an incredibly rare spell.”
Trixie shook her head. “No, no, no, no, no, Stekton. No, Stekton. Unicorn magic isn’t ‘genetic.’” She made air quotes with her hooves. “This isn’t like earth pony farming magic; all unicorn spells are learned. It’s nurture, not nature. In theory, any unicorn can cast any possible spell so long as he knows how and trains enough. It’s determined by neurological activity and brain pathways. Hence why we have been studying the subject’s brain, if your memory was working.”
Stekton sighed. “No need to patronize me; I remember our scans quite well. I took them into account. As with any unicorn’s brain when casting any spell, an intangibility spell does indeed have its own unique pattern in the motor cortex, but that still doesn’t tell us how to cast it, or how or why this subject knows it. So that led me to other alternatives, such as genetics, and we found marker 71. The brain activity is merely a shadow cast by the true cause looming above: genetics.”
Trixie gritted her teeth. “No, there must be something we’ve missed! Every single other unicorn spell that we know of is determined by neurological activity! Every one of them!”
“Apparently not, or else every unicorn could learn to cast every spell, but that’s clearly not the case. For instance, not every unicorn can teleport. Perhaps that is genetic, too, but far, far more common than intangibility,” said Stekton.
Trixie scowled at Stekton’s passive-aggressiveness towards her magical disability, opening her mouth to object, but he put his hoof in front of him.
“Listen,” said Stekton. “When you get new evidence that doesn’t support your prior theory, you don’t ignore the evidence just to preserve your old theory; you make a new theory. That’s how science works. For instance, astronomers had long thought that a lone white dwarf star could never turn supernova. But then they observed one that did, so they had to change their theory to accommodate the evidence. First comes evidence, then theory; it’s not the other way around like you seem to want it to be. Stop putting the cart before the horse.
“If intangibility were based solely off of brain patterns and not genetics, then why is the subject the only pony we know of who is able to cast it? Surely other unicorns have tried learning it, thereby developing said brain patterns, and the vast majority of them have failed. Not even King Blueblood, the former dean of Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns,ever witnessed such magic during his tenure there.”
Trixie laughed. “I refuse to believe that Miss Cake is some special little snowflake that has magic unique to only her. That sounds like something out of a badly-written novel.”
Stekton shook his head. “It’s not ‘unique to her;’ it’s just unique to ponies that have the rare mutation. I doubt she’s the only one, just the only one we know of. Now, if you want other ponies who are able to cast the intangibility spell, your best bet is not to train currently living unicorns as Blueblood wants. Unless they just so happened to have the rare genetic marker, they could never cast it, no matter how hard they trained. No, your best bet is to harvest the subject’s ovaries and implant her eggs into surrogate mothers. Those offspring would very likely have the same genetic mutation that we see in the subject. As an added bonus, some of them might inherit enough of her earth pony DNA in order to farm and grow crops when the war is over.”
“Breeding new unicorn foals would take YEARS!” Trixie yelled, reaching over with her hooves and shaking Stekton by the shoulders. “We need a breakthrough by tonight! Do you have any idea what Blueblood will do if I tell him that I’ve wasted months studying genetic magic that will take years to realize its potential?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t change the science,” said Stekton flatly.
Trixie shook her head, turning away from Stekton. “You’re wrong. All magic is neurological, and I’m going to prove it. Get the scanner out; we’re going to test the subject again.”
Stekton frowned. “No.”
Trixie raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?
“I said ‘no.’ I’m not going to chase shadows with you anymore, Trixie. You have ignored me at every turn, on more than just this. Every time that I present results to you, you ignore them if you don’t already agree with them, rather than keep an open mind as a researcher should. Why King Blueblood put you in charge of magical research, I’ll never know. You’re an arrogant know-it-all, and you ignore everything that doesn’t fit your preconceived notions. You’re not an objective scientist; you’re a blind, religious zealot in love with your own ego. You might as well move to the Zebra Empire and start worshipping Zaporizhia!”
Trixie gasped, getting out of her chair. “You take that back, Stekton!” she practically screamed.
Stekton stomped his hoof. “No! In fact, when Blueblood fires you, I plan on posting for your position. Perhaps I can restore a modicum of professionalism to the popsicle stand that you’ve made of this agency.”
Stekton opened the door to the office and walked out, slamming it shut behind him.
Trixie scoffed. Who needs him, anyway. I have work to do. If I work fast enough, then maybe I can get some results from the subject.
Snips and Snails walked in the door of Trixie’s office, after she had called for them.
“Yes, Great and Powerful Research Minister Trixie Lulamoon?” they asked in unison.
“Go get the brain scanner again, and hook Miss Cake up to it. We’re going to observe her brain activity while she casts the intangibility spell again.”
“Aww, not again!” Snails whined. “Can’t we do something different for once? This experiment is getting boring.”
“Yeah, we’ve done this exact test on this exact subject dozens of times,” said Snips. “What makes you think you’re gonna find anything different than—”
“Fine, then I’ll just do it myself!” Trixie screamed. She walked out the door and slammed it shut behind her. She hustled down the hallway, almost tripping over her own hooves, as she rushed to the equipment room to get the brain scanner.
Trixie had to get results, and tonight. There was no other option. She would lose her job, and she would be a complete mockery. Worse yet, she was privy to state secrets. Were she fired, Blueblood could very well have her killed if he wasn’t 100% satisfied that she wouldn’t tell a soul about what she had seen at the research agency. Given his obsession with security and spies as of late, he might just have her killed.
No, she thought. She would not be killed, because she would get the results. She was confident that she was correct, and that Stekton was pursuing some misguided, pet theory.
Trixie reached the equipment room. All sorts of microscopes, test tubes, beakers, bunsen burners, and electronics were inside. She found the brain scan helmet, lifting it up with her magic. It was heavier than she thought, and her head jolted as she hustled back out the door, this time at a slower pace.
She walked down the hallway to the research area, passing by other containment rooms with other subjects inside. Unlike Pumpkin Cake’s custom made room with its extra security, most of those unicorns were held in their observation rooms with a firm padlock and a steel door. A few of them were willing volunteers for study and had little or no security whatsoever.
Finally, as Trixie’s horn started to ache from carrying the brain scanner, she reached the door before the long, winding hallway leading to Pumpkin Cake’s detainment room. A lone security guard named Vigilant Eye sat by a switch, which he would throw to trigger the knockout gas in the hallway should Pumpkin Cake try to escape. There were two security doors in the hallway, which had a bend in it, preventing her from simply teleporting straight to the end of the hallway, and the guard could see each door from where he sat.
The guard read a magazine with a naked, seductive mare on the front cover, and glanced up as Trixie raced towards him, her hoofbeats clanking on the metallic floor.
“Evenin’, Trixie,” Vigilant Eye said, pressing the button to open the security doors, and then glanced back down at his reading.
Were Trixie not in such a hurry, she would have scolded Vigilant Eye, both for referring to her merely by her first name and not by her proper, full title of “Great and Powerful Research Minister Trixie Lulamoon,” and for reading a magazine on the job. Vigilant Eye had always argued that he could hear magic being used, and the hallway was long enough for him to react in time, and pointed to his solid track record in preventing the subject from escaping when she had tried it before. Why shouldn’t he be allowed a magazine, he had always argued. But since Trixie was in a hurry, she merely muttered back at him and raced down the hallway.
The hallway was many meters long, but Trixie ran so fast, that if she had thrown down one of her trademark smoke puffs, she might have possibly convinced a bystander at either end of the hallway that she had in fact teleported the distance rather than sprinted it. She stopped as she reached the door to the containment room. Normally, this part required two ponies: one to stand behind the observation window and ensure that the subject didn’t try any funny business, and one to actually enter the containment room with the subject. But since Snips, Snails, and Stekton were being insubordinate, she would have to do it all herself. Thankfully for Trixie, she had security override privileges.
When I come back to work tomorrow, I’ll harshly discipline those three. I may even have them terminated, she thought.
If she came back tomorrow. But she truly believed with every fiber of her being that she was on the right track as entered the room with the subject.
Ships. Sailing ships. There was an entire fleet of them, all made of wood, with silk sails of all colors of the rainbow. Pumpkin Cake stood at the bow at the front of one, her fiery mane blowing in the breeze as salty mist droplets hit her cheeks and filled her eyes. Dolphins chirped and frolicked about in the crashing waves, as seagulls cawed and soared above. There was a sandy shore and land in sight, off in the distance. And then—she was awoken from her dream by a loud and insistent Trixie.
“Miss Cake, you are to put on the brain scan helmet at once.”
Pumpkin Cake opened her eyes, and then winced immediately at the flourescent light shining into them as Trixie stood over her, practically shoving the helmet down onto her head and latching it into place.
“What the…” Pumpkin Cake muttered.
“Are you deaf, Miss Cake?” asked Trixie. “Do I seriously have to explain this procedure to you again after dozens and dozens of times of doing it? Or are you just going to continue to make it as difficult as you have all along? You know, you are the most obstinate, stubborn wench that I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Now put on the helmet.”
You’re one to talk, thought Pumpkin, securing the helmet as Trixie had shown her before.
“Why you don’t just willingly serve the unicorn master race of which you are a part, I will never know,” Trixie said. “Now cast the spell.”
Pumpkin glanced around the room, still groggy as she tried to remember her dream and what it was about. It had a rather victorious and upbeat air to it, but… it was very quickly fading.
“No, wait, hold on,” Pumpkin muttered as it slipped further from her recall.
“What? You dare defy me, you worthless trash!” Trixie shouted, socking Pumpkin Cake in the face with her hoof. Pumpkin fell to the ground in pain as Trixie spat, “You are so pathetic, you’d defy your race for what? Your love of the dirt ponies? Well I have news for you: the pegasus you call brother didn’t even bother to come rescue you. He’s alive and he knows we have you hostage and will kill you if he doesn’t stop fighting the Second Kingdom, but he didn’t stop fighting and he’d rather we kill you; he cares that little for your safety.”
Pumpkin frowned, getting back up as she gritted her teeth against Trixie and her vitriol.
“Hopefully that proves you shouldn’t mingle with dirt ponies, and proves why you must cooperate with us. Now cast the spell, damn you!” Trixie ordered.
Pumpkin’s breath quickened and her heart raced as she clenched her hooves and bared her teeth. Trixie stood before her, a mere two meters away. The seconds passed as Pumpkin simply stood, not doing anything. Trixie’s mouth opened once more to speak, and a pang of rage shot through Pumpkin’s chest.
So Pumpkin did indeed cast the spell: directly on Trixie. The minister’s entire body glowed blue as she glanced around in shock at the sudden lack of all sensation. But Trixie could not scream out for help, as her intangible voice box could not make a sound, and neither could she use any magic.
Pumpkin Cake walked over towards the center of the room, floating the helpless Trixie along, as she approached the thick glass water tank that Trixie had so often used to tempt and torture Pumpkin with extreme thirst. It was empty, at least for now.
The tank was too small for a pony to fit into normally when it was filled with water; Trixie herself had made sure of it. But when it was empty, it could just barely fit a single pony, albeit with a bit of contortion. So Pumpkin shifted around Trixie’s limbs and shoved her through the tank wall. Trixie screamed as she resolidified, crammed inside of a small box.
It’s not soundproof, Pumpkin Cake realized. There was a removable top of the tank for pouring water into, that would be screwed shut when it was being used to torture her. So Pumpkin fired a magical ray of energy at the cracks of the tank, welding the seams of the lid shut. She could now no longer hear Trixie.
Pumpkin’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized that if she was going to try an escape, she had better do it now or never. She had been waiting and planning for this day for weeks, but it was hard to plan the specifics when she couldn’t even see all the way down the hallway. But when Pumpkin saw Trixie walk into the the room with her, with nopony behind the observation window to alert the guards, she saw her chance to strike and knew she had to take it.
Trixie’s white lab coat was left in a pile on the floor from when Pumpkin had first cast the spell on her. Pumpkin smiled as she got an idea. She recalled the first time she had used a mane-change spell, and had turned blue, and Trixie thought that Pumpkin had been imitating her. It hadn’t been intentional then, but this time it would be.
Pumpkin put on the lab coat and cast a color change spell on herself, taking care to resemble Trixie’s coloring as closely as possible. Her mane and coat were a slight shade off, and of course her height, weight, and facial structure didn’t change to mimic Trixie’s. The disguise wasn’t perfect by any means—only a changeling could imitate another pony down to the finest details—but it was close enough to look passable from a distance, and that was what mattered.
As Pumpkin approached the door to exit the containment room, she turned back to the entanked and squirming Trixie and grinned deviously.
“You’re right, Trixie,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Blue is a lovely color.”
Now was the moment of truth. Pumpkin Cake grasped the door handle with her magic and pulled the door open, wincing as it creaked slightly. She walked slowly out into the hallway. This was the part that had always tripped her up before. The guards would see her from their observation window and release the knock-out gas in this hallway, taking her out before she reached the second security door. But this time, Trixie had gotten lax with the security, and whoever was in charge of releasing the knockout gas must have been fooled by Pumpkin’s disguise.
She slowly but steadily made her way down the hall, careful to walk at a normal pace as her hoofsteps clanked on the metal floor below. Now was the second security door. She opened it, this one creaking even louder and making her almost jump, as she walked into a hallway which wound in a different direction. This was the farthest that she had ever gotten on her past escape attempts, and she had never even seen this part of the hall. Her pulse quickened as she had to keep herself from sprinting towards the last threshold.
This door was slightly different, as it didn’t have a door handle or anything on it. Instead, it had a single window on it. She peered out and saw that this was a normal-looking hallway, without any of the knockout gas vents in the sides and ceiling that the hallways leading up to her cell had. So she figured she’d just walk straight through the door and take her chances. The door turned blue as she walked through it, to see a single security guard standing beside the door.
Pumpkin jolted as the guard looked up from his magazine and towards her.
“Oh hey, Trixie,” he muttered nonchalantly, only briefly averting his eyes from the magazine. “I see you figured out how to cast that spell. Good job.” The guard then returned to his smut, flipping to another page as if nothing had happened.
Pumpkin Cake had to use every ounce of strength that she had to keep from bursting out laughing. She continued on towards the stairs, climbing them as fast as she could after she realized that there wasn’t anypony else in the stairwell to see her. The stairs were long and winding, and she counted at least two hundred of them.
Finally, she reached another door, and she was now on the main floor of the building. Here, it was much better lit, and she squinted her eyes as she walked along. A few scientists in lab coats walked along, but none of them dared meet Pumpkin’s gaze or look her in the face, where her disguise was the weakest. Instead they all gazed at the floor or to the walls while she passed. At first, she thought that they knew that she was a fake, but then she realized that they thought that she was Trixie, and could certainly understand why nopony would want to look a pony like Trixie right in the eyes. They must have thought it was best to just scurry along in the halls and not make eye contact with such a terrible pony.
Pumpkin passed by some of the other laboratory subjects, who were visible through the observation windows. Pumpkin wasn’t sure why they were here, but they probably knew some other magic that Trixie was researching, she guessed. As she winded along through the hallways, she didn’t see too many scientists around. She wondered where they all were, until she reached a window at the end of the hallway, the night sky visible outside.
During the months in her containment room underground, she had lost track of time. She tended to assume that whenever the scientists came to check on her, it was daytime, and when they left her alone to sleep, they had gone home for the evening, and it was nighttime. But apparently Trixie had come to disturb her in the evening for some reason. Pumpkin trotted at a slightly quicker pace towards the window, no scientists in view.
She gazed out towards the city lights of Mareicopa in the distance. There was no security other than a barbed-wire fence surrounding the building. It might as well have been made of paper. She turned intangible and phased through the window, outside of the building, and then through the fence. She realized that she was actually one story above ground, so she gently levitated herself down to the ground below.
As Pumpkin resolidified, she felt the hot night air of Mareicopa on her skin. Crickets chirped, vehicles passed by on the road, and the light from streetlamps shone down. She gazed at the night sky, a few stars visible through the orange glow of downtown Mareicopa off in the distance.
Tears came to her eyes as the fresh air of the outdoors filled her lungs.
Trixie’s tortured screams filled the tank, reaching nopony’s ears but her own. She panicked and thrashed about in her tight confinement as her air supply rapidly diminished. Her vision was now dimming, and her breaths were labored and quick, her lungs on fire from a lack of oxygen.
She kicked and punched and pushed the tank walls with her magic, but they wouldn’t give. She and Stekton had designed the tank out of the sturdiest material, almost impossible to break though without either a diamond-tipped saw or the intangibility spell.
Wait… of course! I’ll just cast that spell on myself and get out of here! Trixie thought. Though she didn’t have any instructions for Blueblood, she had seen the brain scans herself, and Stekton was surely wrong about it being genetic. If anypony could learn that spell in the next few minutes and use it to escape, she thought, the Great and Powerful Trixie could do it!
She focused on the images of Pumpkin Cake’s brain scans and the specific, lighted areas of the motor cortex as she desperately tried to phase through the side of the tank. It didn’t work, and her struggles only more quickly depleted her limited air supply. A few minutes of her vain attempts passed, until the door to the containment room opened up as Stekton walked in. When he saw Trixie inside of the tank, he rushed over, his horn lighting up as he tried to remove the top of the tank.
“As if I haven’t… tried that already... you fool! It’s fused shut!” she shouted in between labored breaths. Stekton read her lips and glanced at the lid, now welded with the tank.
Stekton briefly inspected the weld and then shrugged, unable to do anything to help Trixie. Her panic was now complemented with rage as her vocal chords frazzled with every curse word and insult hurled towards Stekton that she could think of. He shook his head as he walked back out the door and left her alone in the containment room.
Trixie’s eyes closed for the last time as she drew her final breath.
Pumpkin Cake walked through the city streets of Mareicopa, vehicles and other ponies passing her by. Her legs ached and her joints creaked, not used to this much strain being put on them after months of idle days. Sweat dripped from her mane as she wiped her brow with her hoof once again. Even at night, the city was sweltering, a jarring change from the cool underground room.
She had already ditched Trixie’s white laboratory coat in a trash can on the side of the road, not wanting to look suspicious. Before throwing it away, she had rummaged through the pockets first, keeping anything of value that Trixie had. She found a wallet with two hundred Second Kingdom bits and Trixie’s identification badge. There were some keys, too, but to which lock she didn’t know.
As for her mane and coat, she turned them burgundy and white, respectively. She didn’t want to appear as herself, in case the laboratory had started a marehunt for her. And she definitely couldn’t go by the name “Pumpkin Cake” now, so she would have to assume an alias.
Of course, Pumpkin didn’t have to take a fake name or appearance at all if she just escaped from the Second Kingdom. But where would she go? Trixie had mentioned that Pound Cake was still alive, but was that just a lie? Even if he was alive, where would he be? Appleloosa had been lost, after all. Did he move back to Cloudsdale? Did he stay with the Apples? But then where would they be now? So while Pumpkin was still in Mareicopa figuring out her plan, she needed a pseudonym.
Maybe I should go by Red Velvet, she thought. The name certainly matched her new white and burgundy coloring. Or was that too obvious? Good pseudonyms should be totally unrelated to the original name, if the Detective Cold Case novels were anything to go by. Both “Pumpkin” and “Red Velvet” were types of cakes. She’d have to ruminate on it. And now, she had made herself hungry. Why’d she have to be named after food, anyway?
Pumpkin started looking around downtown Mareicopa for a place to eat. She was in the business district at the moment, and there were nothing but office buildings with their lights off for the evening. One odd thing that she noticed about Mareicopa was that hardly anypony was walking around downtown at all. There might have been one or two ponies walking on each block. Perhaps it was later on in the evening than she had thought, or perhaps many ponies were just teleporting from place to place rather than walking. She did see quite a few teleport flashes from unicorns around.
After rounding another corner, her mouth watered as she saw a wooden sign for a restaurant down the street: “The Coffee Cup Cafe.” She disappeared in a flash of light and appeared at the cafe. She reached over to open the wooden door, but then discovered that the windows were busted out, and homeless ponies sleept inside of the booths. A paper sign hung on the door.
“Dear loyal customers: After thirty years in business, we regrettably have to shut down due to the food shortages and famines of the Second Kingdom. Thank you for your patronage, and we hope that someday, the Coffee Cup Cafe can serve the community once again. Sincerely, MGMT.”
Pumpkin Cake scoffed. Thanks to the Second Kingdom’s unicorns-only farming policy, they had put a small cafe out of business. Who knew how many other small businesses in this city were suffering under their rule. She sighed. Perhaps there were other restaurants that were still open further down the street. So, she continued to walk.
Then, suddenly, she heard the sound of an engine behind her, with bright headlights shining on the street in front of her. She glanced behind and saw a truck covered with canvas. Four unicorns with guns jumped out from it, hollering. In anticipation, she charged her horn, but stopped when she realized that they weren’t after her. Instead, they aimed their rifles through the windows of the Coffee Cup Cafe.
“This is the police! All you bums get out right now! Hooves where we can see them!” a stallion commanded.
Six homeless ponies shuffled out of the Coffee Cup Cafe. They were disheveled, their manes and tails ratty, severe body odor wafting off of them.
“You two,” said one of the police, pointing to the unicorns. “No trespassing on private property.”
“But it’s closed down anyway!” one of them implored. “We need someplace to sleep—”
“You’ve been warned. Move along, citizens,” said the policestallion, shooing them off with his rifle. They both ran along the street, past Pumpkin Cake.
“Now, the rest of you inferiors, get in the truck,” said the policestallion. The two pegasi and earth ponies looked around confusedly.
“Where are you taking us?” a mare asked.
“Someplace where you won’t be a nuisance anymore. Now come along. I won’t ask again,” he said.
The pegasi and earth ponies reluctantly climbed into the back of the truck, not having much of a choice. The police piled into the cab and onto the sides, and started down the street.
Pumpkin Cake shook her head. There were only two reasons why the Second Kingdom would be rounding up earth ponies and pegasi in particular. Reason one, they were deporting them as they did the non-unicorns who used to live in Canterlot. Or reason two, they were planning something far, far more sinister.
“Help us! Somepony—”
The voice from the back of the van was silenced almost as soon as it had spoken. The van drove by Pumpkin Cake, as she briefly considered trying to help. But after thinking a few seconds, she shook her head.
She’d had enough of putting herself in danger for today. Actually, she’d had enough danger for her whole life. All of her life, she had been sucked into the black hole of other ponies’ concerns, whether it was Trixie and her research, or the ponies in Appleloosa that she thanklessly helped defend. Pumpkin had suffered enough.
So no. Those ponies could escape on their own. If Pumpkin could escape from a tailor-made underground cell, then surely they could jump out of a van. She was going to get dinner.
Pumpkin Cake’s belly rumbled and growled as she stood in line at the first restaurant that she had found. It hadn’t been easy to find, since she had to walk down seven blocks until seeing an open restaurant. But once she did, it was impossible to miss, since it had a giant neon sign saying “RESTAURANT” and a line stretching around the block. The line had about 50% unicorns standing in it, and about 25% earth pony and 25% pegasi.
Her thoughts alternated between what she had just witnessed on the street about ten minutes ago, and what food she was going to eat. After all, she hadn’t eaten since that morning when she was still captive, and it had been oatmeal yet again. For the last three nights in a row for dinner: baked beans. She couldn’t wait for some variety. Pizza, macaroni and cheese, daffodil burgers, anything different. She didn’t want to wait, so she wanted to have her order ready for when she got inside… but come to think of it, she didn’t know what sort of food this place served.
An emerald unicorn stallion stood in line ahead of her. Perhaps he would know.
“What does this restaurant serve?”
The stallion turned his head towards her and shrugged. “Dunno. It’s food; that’s all that matters to me.”
Pumpkin giggled. “That’s my attitude,” she said.
Suddenly, it hit her that she was actually having a conversation with a pony for the first time in months: not as a subject for study, but as an equal. It was almost a foreign concept.
“So, uh, are you from Mareicopa originally?” she asked.
“Lived here all my life. I can tell you’re not from here, or you’d just call it Copa. Also, I can tell by your accent,” he said.
Between her years spent in Ponyville, with Zecora, and in Appleloosa, all of which had radically different accents, Pumpkin Cake had picked up an odd accent that mixed all three and was neither here nor there. Pound had an odd accent too, though with different influences.
“You’re right, I’m a… um, a tourist,” said Pumpkin.
The stallion chuckled. “I’m guessing that you’re not visiting Copa for the food.”
She chuckled back. “How ever did you guess?”
They both laughed.
“So you came here for magic, then?” he asked.
She thought back to her time in captivity being studied for her magic, and then shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”
He nodded. “You know, it’s amazing how magically illiterate that we all were before the Second Kingdom came to the city. Most unicorns didn’t even know how to teleport, or how to use telepathy, or dowsing, or anything more than levitation. Those who did practice magic couldn’t use every spell, since there were the bans on dark magic and other powerful spells under the princesses. But now, we can cast whatever spells that we want. It’s great!”
Pumpkin Cake raised an eyebrow. Perhaps ‘Copa’ wasn’t under as much of an iron hoof as she had imagined it to be.
“But what about the famines?” she asked.
The stallion shrugged. “Either we’re free to use magic and starving under Blueblood, or well fed and magically restricted under Twilight. I guess there’s no other choices.”
“What about the earth ponies and pegasi in town?” she asked.
The stallion shrugged. “What about them?”
She lowered her voice and leaned in, muttering so nopony in line but him would hear, “You know, being rounded up off the streets?”
He sighed. “There’s nothing anypony can do. Best not to think about it.”
Those were the last words that he spoke to her, turning back to face directly in front of himself as the line snaked forwards. He was right, she figured.
Finally, Pumpkin Cake got inside. Other than the separate seating areas for unicorns and the other two races, it was a typical diner, and she ordered a daffodil burger with hay fries and ketchup. It was the cheapest item on the menu but still expensive, costing about fifty of her two hundred SK bits. The price was well worth it: the burger was cooked to perfection, and each bite was savory and zesty. The fries were salty and crunchy. It was the best meal that she had ever had.
Pumpkin Cake spent the rest of the evening walking around the city rather aimlessly, her thoughts wandering back to her months and months in captivity. She kept expecting to wake up soon, to still be under Trixie and Doctor Stekton’s watchful eyes, but it never happened. Instead, she grew weary from all of her walking.
Oh, right, she thought. I need a place to sleep.
She looked in the direction of the Coffee Cup Cafe and chuckled. The Second Kingdom didn’t seem to look kindly on vagrancy or trespassing. As she walked, she started looking for hotels, but then wondered how expensive they were, and if they required identification to check in.
At the very least, checking in would leave a record of her being there, not something that she wanted to risk in case there was a marehunt for her. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but she thought that even going under a fake name might arouse suspicion, at least until she got an ID proving that she was who she said she was. Her only ID was that of Trixie’s, and she certainly couldn’t use that.
She glanced down at the ID. There was Trixie’s smiling face on it. Trixie Lulamoon, Department of Magical Research Director, Office 105. Home Address: 75 Saguaro Drive, Mareicopa, Aridia Oblast, SK.
Then, Pumpkin Cake grinned as she got an idea.
Trixie’s house in Mareicopa was two stories and had a mesa exterior, a long driveway, and trimmed shrubs outside. Unlike most of the houses on the street which had rock lawns, it had a watered and well-maintained lawn of green and luscious grass. There was also a giant statue of Trixie herself, right in the middle of her lawn, just in case there was any confusion over whose house it was. The homeowners’ association must have had a fit over it.
At first, Pumpkin wondered if Trixie had any family, because why else would she need a two story house? But then, Pumpkin remembered that Trixie was the meanest, most arrogant pony that she had ever met, and would’ve been vain enough to get a huge house even if she lived all alone. It would’ve been a miracle if any stallion wanted to be with Trixie (or any mare, if Trixie had swung that way). Pumpkin Cake figured that if anypony was indeed inside, it was only because Trixie had been paying them to be there, like a housemaid, not because they had any affinity towards her.
If anypony was inside, Pumpkin Cake planned on simply teleporting away before they could tell anypony, and then just renting a hotel room. But why waste money and take the risk of getting caught if there was a vacant house?
And by now, Pumpkin was sure that Trixie was dead. Earlier, she had spied on the road outside the Magical Research Department just to be sure. Sure enough, two mortician earth ponies had been loading a corpse covered in a black tarp into a hearse. They must have finally sawed her out of that tank.
Pumpkin Cake stood on the sidewalk outside, strolling casually along. She didn’t want to be seen walking up to the house by any of Trixie’s neighbors, in case they just so happened to be watching at that moment. So, instead, she simply teleported from the street straight inside, past the front door and into the foyer.
The first thing she noticed in Trixie’s house was how much cooler it was than outside. It was pitch dark inside, so she illuminated her horn. Trixie’s house was the nicest house that Pumpkin had ever seen. There were hardwood and tile floors, nice pictures hanging on the walls, and gorgeous furniture. A grandfather clock on the wall read a quarter past midnight.
It’s that late? No wonder I could barely find a diner open. And no wonder I’m so tired.
Pumpkin Cake’s most pressing concern was ensuring that there was nopony else in the house. She walked from room to room, cautiously peering her head around corners. She walked slowly enough as to not make any unnecessary noise, but not too slowly, because she didn’t want any of the neighbors seeing the light of her horn through the windows. She used her telekinesis to close the blinds wherever they were still open.
Finally, after clearing every room, she reached the upstairs of the house, where a set of french doors stood to what Pumpkin could only assume was the master bedroom, since she had checked all the others. If there was anypony else in the house, such as Trixie’s significant other, this would be the room.
Pumpkin would have to sneak inside and ensure that any potential threat was neutralized. She didn’t plan on harming anypony if she did find them, but she would have to ensure that they didn’t have a gun or something. So she figured that it was best to go into the room while intangible, and resolidify if the coast was clear.
After she passed through the door, the light from her ethereal body illuminated the room as she saw that there was nopony in the bed, bathroom, or anywhere else in the room. The bed was a single, confirming Pumpkin’s suspicions about Trixie’s lack of a love life. After checking under the bed, she resolidified.
Though there weren’t any other ponies in the house, she wasn’t entirely alone.
On the bed sat a black cat, which stood up from the bed and hissed at Pumpkin. She rolled her eyes, picked up the cat in her magic, and dropped it through the wall and into the backyard outside.
Confident the house was clear, she walked over to the guest bedroom, locked the bedroom door, and placed a dresser in front of it so nopony could break it down quickly while she was sleeping. Then, with her last ounce of strength, she climbed into bed and drifted off to sleep.
The Superior Court of Tall Tale: September 2025
Inside of the courtroom, a panel of seven black-robed judges sat behind the bench. Zarek was at the plaintiff's table with Zecora. They both wore solid charcoal-grey suits, a color that went well with their stripes. At the state’s table, the attorney general of Equestria sat, who was brown-coated, with slicked-back blond hair. He wore a navy blue suit. A small audience of reporters and spectators sat in the courtroom.
The Superior Court of Tall Tale was the second-highest court with original jurisdiction in the northwest district, below the Supreme Court of Equestria in Manehattan. Whichever side lost the ruling in Tall Tale that day could appeal it to the Supreme Court, though there was no guarantee it would hear the case, and even if they did, they rarely overturned lower courts. Whatever the outcome of Zecora’s case in Tall Tale, it was likely to stand either way.
The chief justice spoke, “Today, the Superior Court of Tall Tale will be hearing the arguments of the state and the plaintiff in the case Zecora vs. Equestria. Each side will have thirty minutes: five to make an oral argument, and then twenty-five to answer clarification questions from the justices. The plaintiff shall begin first. You may stand.”
“Thank you, your honor,” said Zarek. He walked over to a podium to address the judges, cleared his throat, and began.
“Your Honors, and members of the audience and press, I am Zarek, son of Zorinth, and I represent Zecora, daughter of Zyreko. Today’s case is about the civil rights of Equestrian citizens who are zebras, who have been oppressed by the military authorities. Before I begin my legal arguments, though, I would like to start by telling the story of Zecora, my client.
“Many years ago, Zecora emigrated to Equestria from the Zebra Empire. She sought a new life free of the religious persecution of Emperor Zaporizhia. She settled in the small town of Ponyville, learned our language, and sought acceptance from the townsfolk. It wasn't easy, but soon she made a number of friends in her new hometown.
“A few years later, war engulfed our country, and Equestria soon found itself fighting the very Zebra Empire that Zecora crossed oceans to avoid. Princess Twilight, a long time trusted friend of Zecora, asked her to assassinate Zaporizhia. Zecora, of course, being a patriotic Equestrian citizen, agreed. Sadly for my client, she was detained en route by a group of soldiers who were suspicious of her merely due to her race, as evidenced by their repeated use of the offensive racial slur ‘zeeb’ towards her. She spent the next few months in captivity at an internment camp. This is where I also spent many months, despite being a respected attorney and second-generation immigrant who was born and raised in Equestria.
“If both myself and my client, loyal Equestrian citizens of many years, can end up in one of these camps without a trial and without having committed a crime, any zebra potentially could. In fact, your Honors, if you will check the evidence that has been submitted, you will see many cases of elderly, infirm, and even children locked in these camps. Thousands of zebras are in these camps, with more thrown in every day.
“The Equestrian Article of Rights guarantees all citizens of Equestria the right to a fair trial and habeus corpus. These internment camps are very clearly denying this fundamental right. There may be a small threat from zebra saboteurs in Tall Tale and Vanhoover, but this threat has been over-exaggerated, and does not justify the suspension of habeas corpus against Equestrian citizens, even in wartime.
“In the case of Zecora v. Equestria, I request that your Honors order these internment camps to be disbanded, and for all of their occupants to be released, unless there is compelling evidence that they are truly saboteurs. In that case, formal criminal charges and a formal indictment should be brought against them, rather than their current state of legal limbo.
"I can certainly understand as well as any pony why there is a drive to secure our country from invaders. The zebra immigrants in Equestria above all else understand this danger, because many of them fled here to escape religious or political persecution. They, above all else, know the true terrors of the self-proclaimed god Emperor Zaporizhia and his priests, and why Tall Tale must not fall to the Zebra Empire.
“The Zebrist theocracy of the Zebra Empire persecutes non-believers, forces attendance of halls of worship, and the priests publicly flail or execute any zebra on the spot who defies religious edicts. The theocracy suppresses freedom of the press and rights of the people to peaceably assemble against the regime. They claim a mandate from God himself to imprison any zebras for any alleged offense, and do not provide habeus corpus or the right to a fair and objective trial in a secular court, instead using religious courts.
“This is why it is imperative that Equestria preserve our own civil liberties. If we do not, we are no better than the very empire from which my client and other zebras fled. Preserving our rights is true patriotism and adherence to Equestrian values. But instead, the military has launched a misguided and xenophobic quest to imprison every zebra on the west coast of Equestria merely because of their race. Such behavior is the antithesis of patriotism.
"Let us not be fooled by the false talk of patriotism coming from the likes of General Spitfire; most of the internments against zebras have been solely due to their race. This is also against the Equestrian Articles of Rights, which stipulates that unless there is a reasonable distinction to be made in the natural abilities of the races of sentient beings, there can be no unequal treatment under the law.
“So even though flight restrictions, for instance, disproportionately affect pegasi, these laws are constitutional because there is a real difference between the flight abilities of pegasi and the lack of same in the other races. The same defense can be made for the laws restricting the magical abilities of unicorns, or laws regarding water rights for earth pony farming. All have been ruled constitutional despite legal challenges, but in the case of the zebra detention, there is not a reasonable distinction between fundamental characteristics of zebras versus ponies that can justify such unlawful detentions. The only apparent distinctions are fear, prejudice, and bigotry against individuals who happen to have striped coats.
“In conclusion, though the threats posed by the Zebra Empire against Equestria are dire, they do not justify the destruction of our rights as Equestrian citizens, the very thing that our army is supposed to be fighting to preserve. The internment has no basis in legality and must be overturned. Thank you, your Honors.”
The next twenty-five minutes were a series of questions from various Justices regarding finer points of Equestrian law, along with Zarek’s answers to them. He felt that he performed quite well on the spot, and sat down with a smile on his face at the end of it.
“Thank you, Zarek,” said the chief justice. “Next, the state of Equestria will have the final say in the matter. Five minute argument, twenty-five minutes for questions and answers.”
The lawyer for Equestria stood out of his chair.
“Thank you, your honors. I do appreciate everything that Mister Zarek has to say, and sympathize with his client, but the internment of partisan suspects in Equestria is a sound and lawful policy.
“In the documents submitted to the court, your Honors will note that over the past year, there have been approximately two dozen partisan attacks by saboteurs and fanatics in the city of Tall Tale. They have destroyed bridges and railroads critical to the war, and burned down a pony church, in which five ponies died. These attacks are in addition to the Zebra Empire navy’s assault on Tall Tale. Given this, the Equestrian military generals took reasonable precautions to prevent further partisan attacks and the capture of Tall Tale, Vanhoover, Applewood, or other west coast cities.”
As if to accentuate his point, a mortar exploded off in the distance, rumbling the floor. Hardly anypony in the courtroom batted an eye, since the residents of Tall Tale had gotten used to the constant shelling.
He continued, “Equestrian law gives broad powers to the military during a state of emergency or wartime situation. Under the formal Royal Declaration of War with the Second Kingdom and the Zebra Empire, the military is allowed to take, quote, ‘any actions deemed necessary to protect the territorial integrity of Equestria’, unquote.
“The generals felt that the best way to secure Tall Tale was to detain those who are suspected of partisan activity, and hold them for the duration of the war. Now, the threshold for suspicion during wartime is, by matter of practicality, lower than during peacetime. The peacetime standard is ‘guilt beyond a reasonable doubt,’ but the wartime standard is an expedited ‘reasonable suspicion.’ In a state of war, normal rights enjoyed by Equestrian citizens may be suspended for the good of preserving the state.
“Please recall the precedent set by the Supreme Court of Equestria in the year 2012, during the changeling attack on Equestria’s then-capital of Canterlot. Before the attack, the Equestrian intelligence service, RISK, uncovered an imminent threat to the royal wedding. To take security measures against an attack, Princess Celestia declared a state of emergency and briefly suspended certain rights in Canterlot.
“A protective force field was placed over Canterlot, and individuals were not allowed to enter without specific permission or a search. Normally, the right to travel freely and not be subjected to warrantless search is guaranteed in Equestria, but the emergency situation called for temporary suspension of these rights. The Supreme Court of Equestria upheld the legality of these actions.
“True, the state of wartime with the Zebra Empire has been longer than the brief skirmish with the changelings thirteen years ago, and that ruling did not address suspension of habeus corpus directly. However, there is no reason why the prior court ruling couldn’t be expanded both in time and scope for this case.
“No one truly wants this situation, but it is born of necessity, and once peace returns, so will the full rights and privileges of Equestria's citizens. However, the premature ending of the internment will only heighten the risk of a takeover of the west coast. As Mister Zarek mentioned, Zaporizhia places terrible restrictions on the civil liberties of his subjects. I hope this court will agree with the military that it is better to endure a temporary restriction of rights for a limited time, than to do nothing and potentially have Tall Tale fall under Zaporizhia’s theocracy.
“Princess Twilight has taken Zecora’s story to heart, and has made changes to ensure that no more innocent suspects are unfairly detained. For instance, detaining a suspect now requires two military witnesses instead of just one. The conditions at the camps have been improved, with certain detainees being allowed visits from relatives if they demonstrate good behavior. Additionally, any individual currently in detention may request a military trial without bail if he can prove that he is an Equestrian citizen.
“However, this brings up a major sticking point in regards to the detention: many of the zebra detainees do not speak Equish, have no documents, and no legal residence in Equestria. Three quarters of the zebra detainees are not legal residents of Equestria. Rather, they or their parents were brought over as illegal immigrants by so-called ‘sea turtle’ maritime traffickers. That, or they are actually Zebra Empire troops who snuck into the city under cover of an assault, and removed their uniforms, blending in with the civilian population and waiting to strike. With no documents, it is impossible to tell who is who.
“The regular course of action during peacetime is to deport illegal zebra aliens back to the Zebra Empire, but this is impossible due to the war. For now, they are trapped in legal limbo. Thus, they must remain interned for the war’s duration, as there is nowhere else for them to go.
“To address Mister Zarek’s point about the detention being unfairly racist towards zebras, I have two retorts. Retort one: look at Manehattan. Of the six million Manehattan residents, 100,000 are zebras. One would think that if the Equestrian government was racist or suspicious of minorities, some zebra Manehattanites would have been detained, but no. Not a single zebra in Manehattan has been detained for sabotage. This is because Manehattan is on the east coast of Equestria, thousands of miles away from Zaporizhia’s naval fleet. He is not targeting that city, therefore he has not sent saboteurs there. But in west coast cities like Tall Tale that he aims to capture, thousands of his agents and sympathizers have flooded in, necessitating the internment.
“Retort two is that, when we catch any pony saboteurs, they are subject to the same internment policies. Such is the case with Second Kingdom sympathizers in Equestria. In fact, we have recently detained a gang of unicorn skinheads in Baltimare. The criteria for being detained in Equestria is not race or the color of one’s coat as Mister Zarek asserts. Rather, we detain all those who seek to undermine a united Equestria, regardless of race.
“In conclusion, the military has taken reasonable steps to protect the territorial integrity of Equestria. These steps are temporary, and akin to similar, constitutional steps in the past, and taken so that everypony may continue to enjoy these very same rights in the future. We don’t want Tall Tale to fall to the Zebra Empire, and with our continued emergency powers to detain suspects—for any anti-Equestrian activity, regardless of the race of the suspect—Tall Tale will remain in Equestria. Thank you, your Honors.”
As with Zarek, the next twenty-five minutes were reserved for the justices’ questions, which ran right until the end of the time limit. Finally, both sides had spoken.
The judges all whispered quietly to each other, about to adjourn. The chief justice turned to the two attorneys and asked if they had any final words to say.
“No, your honor,” both attorneys said.
"Very well," said the justice. “This Court will adjourn and deliberate. The ruling will be released in early 2026, six months from now at the latest.”
Justice in Equestria was normally slow, particularly when it came to such high-profile cases of national importance. After all, Tall Tale was a large city with three million residents: three quarters of them ponies, one quarter zebras.
While the arguments of Zecora vs. Equestria were being given, huge crowds picketed outside of the courthouse in Tall Tale. Ponies and zebras stood on either side of the steps, holding signs that read various things. On one side stood a crowd of about three hundred people: half of them zebras, and the other half ponies. They held signs and shouted things like,
“Give us our civil rights!”
“We all deserve fair trials!”
“Tall Tale is for everyBODY, not just everyPONY.”
On the other side was a slightly smaller crowd of roughly two hundred people, all of them ponies. They held signs and shouted things like,
“Zebras go back to the zebra Empire!”
“Intern all the zeebs now!”
“Death to the false prophet Zaporizhia!”
The two crowds were separated by a line of riot police, holding metal shields and wearing helmets. They stood behind metal barricades set up in front of the courthouse steps, leaving room so that ponies could enter on official court business.
More and more ponies and zebras joined the protest and counter-protest as the hour dragged on, passing through the streets of onlookers. The crowds swelled to the thousands as various groups all arrived to voice their opinions. Even though the court had adjourned, the crowds still continued to grow into the thousands after five o’clock as ponies and zebras got off of work.
Around six thirty, Berry Punch stepped onto the scene, an entourage of about three hundred zebras following behind her. Berry Punch was a purple earth pony with a darker purple mane, and a cutie mark of a bundle of purple grapes. Due to her coloring, she was easy to spot among the crowds of dozens of black and white zebras who walked behind her, like a grape in a bowl of rice. The zebras following her were sweaty and covered in dirt, and wore wide straw hats on their heads, carrying signs in their hooves and mouths which said things like
“We built this city!”
“Zebra workers unite!”
“Zebras do the jobs ponies won’t do.”
With their arrival, the anti-internment ranks swelled to over five thousand, now double the numbers of the pro-internment crowd. Berry Punch turned and addressed the crowd through a megaphone that she normally used to direct work flow.
“The Equestrian government has gone too far! First, they make it nearly impossible for me to do business with their high taxes and restrictive labor laws… then they start arresting the workers at my vineyards! But you do the back-breaking manual labor jobs that they refuse to do. You built the railroads, the houses, the streets. Let’s see what happens to Tall Tale when all of the hard-working zebra immigrants are behind bars. This city’s economy will crumble. Grapes will go unharvested in the fields! Wine will go unfermented in the vats! Cargo will go unloaded in the docks! End the internment!”
The crowd of zebra vineyard laborers cheered, and chanted.
“We built Tall Tale! We built Tall Tale! We built Tall Tale!”
But then, the pro-internment side started jeering and chanting their own chant.
“Tax cheats go home! Tax cheats go home! Tax cheats go home!”
It was an open secret that Berry Punch had broken Equestrian labor laws by using illegal zebra immigrants as labor in her fields and not paying employment taxes on their wages. The Tall Tale Times had run several expose pieces on it, and her tax evasion case was still pending in court.
The dueling chants continued, until a stallion from the pro-internment side burst through the police line and shouted, “Quit taking Equestrian jobs, you greedy whore!”
Berry Punch was hit in the stomach by a full bottle of her own Berry Punch brand of wine that the stallion had thrown. The bottle burst apart with a loud splash, and she fell to the ground and stars filled her vision as the purple liquid--along with her own blood--splashed out onto the sidewalk. A couple of her zebra workers ran over to her to ensure that she was okay.
After a few moments, she returned to the ground, breathing heavily and labored, as the hit had knocked the wind out of her. She had a cut and a giant bruise, but could still stand. She stood up, putting one of her hooves in the air and smiling to show she was okay. The crowd cheered.
What an idiot, she thought. She was ‘taking’ jobs from nopony. None of the zebras who worked for her would even have a job if she didn’t have a vineyard! In what logic was her providing jobs to hundreds of zebras somehow ‘taking’ jobs from ponies? She didn’t get it.
“Keep it civil!” one of the riot police spoke through a police megaphone. The riot police readied their batons and shields, preparing to break up the opposing rallies if they got unruly. The crowds quieted down momentarily.
It this wasn’t to last. Five minutes later, a large crowd of two hundred zebra churchgoers of all ages and both genders marched down the street in front of the courthouse. They were led by a white-robed zebra cleric, his mane balding and splotchy in places.
“Repent! Repent! Repent!” the crowd shouted.
“Death to false gods!” the anti-internment crowd chanted back.
The cleric shouted, his voice so loud that he didn’t even need a megaphone, “Zaporizhia’s army is coming to free this city and his chosen striped people from the oppression of the solids: the ponies who throw us behind bars, and their allies, the griffon predators who prey on our children, snatching them from their yards in the savannah and shredding their flesh with their fangs! All shall burn for eternity, lest they repent for their wickedness!”
“Amen!” the churchgoers shouted back.
“As foretold in the prophecy, the incarnation of god Zaporizhia will unite the zebra nation as one, and all of his children shall live under him in harmony. Repent, ponies and zebras alike! Cleanse yourself of the evil in your hearts, or you will perish! Scripture foretells that the end is near for the heathen city of Tall Tale. Zodalakai 19:12, ‘For the unfaithful stood tall in their arrogance, living haughtily in their sinful ways, but were cut down by the chosen ones whom they so despised!’ Death to Tall Tale!”
“Death to Tall Tale! Death to Tall Tale! Death to Tall Tale!” the churchgoers chanted.
At this point, the lines of riot police started walking towards the churchgoers, shouting at the cleric to get down on the ground.
“You’re under arrest for sedition!” one of the officers shouted. The cleric sat on the ground, putting his hooves behind his head.
“Stay back,” Berry Punch ordered her workers, but they had already started walking over to the street to confront the officers.
The officers soon found themselves overwhelmed by a crowd of angry ponies from the pro-internment side, who rushed past the police line and assaulted the churchgoers, tackling them to the ground and beating them up. Only the children were spared, running away and shrieking in terror as their pious parents were pummeled behind them, crying out to Zaporizhia to save them. The police did nothing to intervene, merely standing back and watching.
About a hundred of Berry Punch’s day laborers rushed over to help the churchgoers, attacking the pro-internment crowd with shovels and pitchforks. One pony fell to the ground, crying out in agony as a shovel blade whistled through the air, hitting one of his hooves. The pro-internment crowd responded by stealing the riot shields and batons from the police, who by this point were retreating down the street.
Berry Punch shook her head. The situation was quickly deteriorating, and she had to get out as soon as she could. She and her remaining workers who hadn’t joined the melee ran away from the downtown area as the brawl in the street continued, angry shouts filling the air behind them.
After a few minutes of running, she glanced back for just a moment. The largest zebra church in downtown was on fire, and acrid black smoke poured out. Dozens of shop windows were broken all around, shattering with crashes, and zebras and ponies alike were running around looting anything that they could get their hooves on. The police were nowhere to be seen. Nor were any firefighters. Gunfire rang out in the distance.
When Berry Punch and her workers arrived back to her vineyards a few miles away, on the outskirts of town, she discovered that a large fire had been set in one of her fields. Sweet-smelling white smoke poured the air, mixed with the scent of gasoline. This was during harvest time, and she could lose hundreds of thousands of bits if the bundles of grapes burned up in the fields!
“Open up the irrigation full blast!” she called through the megaphone. “Save as many cartons of grapes as you can!”
Her workers fought the blaze into the night, using irrigation lines as makeshift firehoses, and quickly harvesting anything near the fire’s edge so that it wouldn’t be lost. Berry Punch had never in all of her life seen anyone work that hard. The only time any zebra took a break from firefighting was to go stand guard with shovels on the property line and the streets to stop any more rioters from spreading the fire through her vineyards any further.
The city firefighters would not come help, though she called them on the phone. Neither would the police. They all just told Berry Punch that they were ‘too busy stopping riots to come help out a tax cheat.’ But she had seen with her own eyes that they were letting zebra shops burn, and letting zebras be assaulted. The only time the police had taken any action during the whole day was to try to arrest that cleric. The police hadn’t even arrested the pony who assaulted her with a wine bottle.
The cops in this city are racist against zebras, and ponies who hire them, she thought.
As for the taxes, Berry Punch had actually been paying all the local taxes that went to things like the fire, police, and school district. The only taxes she had cheated were the federal ones on her employees that merely went to government benefits that they would never receive anyway since they were in the country illegally. Why pay for something they would never get? That money could just go to her employees or into her pocket. She wasn’t a rich mare, and she struggled every year just to break even. It was particularly bad with all of these unpredictable freezes since nearby Las Pegasus seceded and took most of the pegasi weather teams on the west coast.
There was a difference between local and federal taxes, but those ignorant cops were too stupid to know it, she thought. Maybe she would cheat on her local taxes now, too. Why should she suffer financially for nothing in return? Her name wasn’t “Charity Punch.” Why pay for terrible local services like nonresponsive racist police and fire, or schools that taught children nothing but propaganda?
As the blaze engulfed another row of grapes, she decided that from now on, she wouldn’t.
Pumpkin Cake sat in the guest bedroom of Trixie’s house, tossing and turning in the bed. She was incredibly tired, and wanted desperately to slip off to sleep, but it just wasn’t happening. It wasn’t for lack of trying, since she’d tried everything: counting sheep, breathing deeply, reading a book, drinking some warm milk mixed with vodka from Trixie’s kitchen. She’d even used her levitation magic to rock herself back and forth like a baby, but sleep wouldn’t come.
It had been nearly a week since she had escaped from the Magical Research Department. At first, she had spent most of her time walking around Mareicopa, wandering the streets in her new “Red Velvet” disguise, just happy to be seeing some new scenery and stretching her legs.
She couldn’t get to sleep because her mind kept racing, focusing on everything. She thought of how the earth ponies and pegasi were being rounded up off the street like cattle, herded to who knew what fate, and that she was seemingly powerless to stop it. Maybe she could, but she really didn’t want to. She’d just gained her freedom and she didn’t want to lose it again! She thought of how terribly she’d been treated in captivity, and all of the tortures. How she’d only just barely escaped, and was probably being hunted by the authorities that very moment.
And, even though she didn’t want to, she kept thinking of how she had killed another pony a week ago and was now living in her house. Pumpkin felt little sympathy for Trixie, but she’d certainly given her a death that almost nopony deserved: suffocating to death in a small little tank. Why didn’t Pumpkin just rip out Trixie’s heart quickly and painlessly and be done with it? Was she some sort of sadistical monster who had wanted to see Trixie suffer?
Pumpkin couldn’t even say why she did what she did to Trixie; she had just done it, seemingly out of impulse. Did Trixie really deserve to die like that? Even if Trixie did deserve to die in agony like she did, who was Pumpkin Cake to decide that she did? A teenage high school dropout who knew a few magic tricks? Seriously?
In addition to lingering doubts about her actions, Pumpkin Cake also couldn’t sleep because every so often, she had to compulsively open her eyes and check over towards the door, just to make sure nopony was standing in the room, about to subdue her with another paralytic dart or knockout gas canister. And every time that she checked, she couldn’t resist looking at the clock on the wall in dismay at how many sleepless hours had now passed.
Pumpkin had placed a giant dresser in front of the door and nailed the windows shut so that only she could easily get in and out, and so she would have warning if anypony tried to bust in the room, but even that was little reassurance given who she had been dealing with. What happened when a pony in the Second Kingdom died with no heirs? Did it go to the state, and were they coming to repossess Trixie’s house right now?
Don’t be silly, Pumpkin Cake, it’s the middle of the night; they’d at least wait until morning, she thought.
Of course, that was little consolation, since the sun was now coming up, and the room grew gradually lighter as the morning sun shone through the window. She checked the clock for the umpteenth time, and her heart sank when she saw that she had been lying in bed for five hours without a single moment’s rest.
Another half hour passed. Then another. Finally, Pumpkin couldn’t stand it anymore, and got up out of bed, walked through the dresser and out the door, and into the hallway. If she couldn’t sleep, then at the very least, she would try to keep her mind occupied with something else. Maybe she would start by searching through the contents of Trixie’s house to see if there was anything valuable or interesting there. She’d been avoiding most of Trixie’s house for the past week, but figured that if she was living there, she might as well see what was there.
She looked around through the master bedroom first. A few books, magazines, vases on the shelves, pictures on the wall, clothes in the dresser, a jewelry box, other personal items. In the closet, there were a bunch of white lab coats hanging up. Downstairs was the library. The bookshelves were full of all sorts of dusty tomes, thick encyclopedias, and novels. Pumpkin didn't know that Trixie was such a well read pony. That, or perhaps she just kept the books around so that she could look smart when other ponies came to visit.
While Pumpkin was going through Trixie’s books, she found a copy of the self-help magic book that Fritz Blueblood had written before becoming King of the Second Kingdom, called “Useful Magic Made Simple,” along with its sequel volumes. She paged through the books, seeing hundreds of pages of instructions for dozens of low to mid-level spells, a few of of which she knew, but some of which she hadn’t even heard of before. There was even a sleeping spell in there, and she would have to try it later. She took note of every spell, and resolved to read and learn every single one. Never again would she be defenseless.
While going through the rest of Trixie’s books, she found an old newspaper. It was a few months-old copy of the Canterlot Cornucopia. The headline screamed “Equestrian pegasi commit genocide-by-starvation against unicorns.” The main picture was of grain in the fields which were dying of salt poisoning. Curious, Pumpkin Cake picked up the paper and read it. It told her all about the salt poisoning of the crops, led by a group of pegasi.
She turned the page to continue reading the article. Her heart jumped in her chest. On the second page was a picture of a cream-colored pegasus, smiling widely, his tousled brown mane all over the place. There was no mistaking him. The caption even said, “Pound Cake: The pegasus leader.”
The paper dropped as tears of joy came to her eyes. Trixie hadn’t been lying. Pound was still alive.
Horseshoe Bay, October 2025
“Well, that don’t prove nothin’ conclusive, Pound Cake. I can’t go to Twilight with just this.”
Pound Cake frowned. “What do you mean, it doesn’t prove anything conclusive? You yourself said that it was a map as clear as day, marking the Second Kingdom as part of their territory!”
Applejack sat forward in her chair and sighed. “It was clear to me, but I still ain’t gonna go tell Twilight until I have more convincin’ proof. I snapped a picture of the map, but that ain’t enough evidence to get her to arrest somepony. The Oranges could just argue that it was a misprint or some sorta mistake. I do believe they’re traitors to Equestria, but that’s just my gut, and the map. I just need some more proof to convince Twilight.”
“She’d believe you. You were her best friend for years, right? And you were even the Element of Honesty, you told me. You have to go tell her,” said Pound Cake.
Applejack nodded. “That’s right. But part of bein’ honest is buildin’ up a good case before you go makin’ accusations. Your word is only as good as what you have to prove it. Without evidence, words are just that: words.”
Pound Cake sighed. “You know, I guess… I guess that you’re right. Maybe telling Twilight would be a bad idea for now.”
“Exactly. You really need to stop goin’ headfirst into things without thinkin’ through ‘em, Pound Cake,” said Applejack. “Rashness and stubbornness only gets you into trouble. But part of that is bein’ a teenager. You’ll grow out of it in time.”
He shrugged.
After a few moments, Applejack asked, “So how are the crops goin’? You killed ‘em all, yet?”
Pound said, “Pretty close. We’re just doing mop-up work at this point, making sure that every section is salted enough to die, making sure we didn’t miss any spots. The harvest is coming up soon, and already the crops are rotting in the fields. It’s just a matter of time until the Second Kingdom surrenders and begs to be part of Equestria again, just so they won’t starve.”
Applejack chuckled. “With any luck, my Aunt and Uncle won’t get in the way of that. But for some reason, they want you dead, most likely to protect their property in the Second Kingdom. But I’ll keep spyin’ on ‘em, and tell you what I find.”
Pound nodded. He and Applejack gave each other a hug, and he walked towards the door of her office. He opened it, and zipped out into the warm, rainy air.
The heavy rain pelted his coat in sheets and stung his skin as he zipped over the orange orchards of Horseshoe Bay. Applejack was busy with harvest season, and didn’t have time to go to Manehattan or Cloudsdale to meet Pound Cake, so instead, he had gone to Horseshoe Bay to meet her. But since he could fly so fast, it wasn’t an issue.
Pound Cake landed, exhausted, at the entrance of the hotel in Cloudsdale where he was staying at. He smiled at the bellhop and at Bulky Biceps, who stood by the door with an assault rifle slung over his back.
“There you are, Pound Cake,” said Biceps, crossing his hooves. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gone?”
Pound Cake blushed. “Oh, well, you know, it was kind of an unscheduled trip. And I was only gone for a few hours. I wore my bulletproof vest and everything. No assassin could have gotten me unless he was like, psychic or something.”
“Some unicorns are psychic,” Biceps scoffed.
“Look, I’m really sorry, and I won’t let it happen again,” said Pound Cake.
Biceps shrugged. “Don’t say sorry to me. It’s your life.”
Pound glanced towards the floor.
“Oh, and you have a visitor in your room,” said Biceps.
Pound raised an eyebrow. “You let a visitor in my room? Who?”
“Your sister.”
Pound’s jaw dropped. “Really? Are you sure? And I thought I said no visitors! Now who’s being lax about security?”
“I had her show me that phasing spell you said that only she could do, so yeah, it’s her,” said Biceps. “So I just let her into your room. Not that I could have stopped her, anyway.”
“Heh heh, good thing only she knows that spell, or else your security would be useless,” said Pound Cake.
“No, it’s useless anyway, if you keep running off without telling--”
Pound Cake was gone before Biceps could finish his sentence. He fumbled with his keys as he opened the door. Pumpkin Cake was sitting on the bed, reading a book.
“Pumpkin Cake!” Pound called out.
She glanced up from her book and smiled. “About time you got back. I’ve been looking all over Equestria for you for two weeks!”
They embraced each other in a hug that lasted for several minutes.
“How did you get here?” asked Pound.
“A cloud-walking spell. It was in this magic book written by Fritz Blueblood, of all ponies. It wasn’t that hard to cast, but it wears off pretty quickly,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“No, I meant how… like, how are you alive? How did you escape?” Pound clarified.
“I could ask you the same, but the cloud-walking spell is about to wear off. We should probably get back to the ground,” said Pumpkin Cake. “I’ll tell you on the way.”
“Hey, you wanna go someplace cool?” asked Pound Cake. “It’s a few hours from here, but we aren’t doing any salting this weekend, so I have tomorrow and Sunday off. I could use a vacation.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Me too.”
They walked out through the lobby.
“Hey Biceps, I’m going to Stirrup,” said Pound.
Biceps raised an eyebrow. “Stirrup? That’s thousands of miles away! You know I can’t fly that far on these stubby wings.”
He flapped his stubby wings to demonstrate. They creaked in struggle to lift his heavy body off the ground.
Pound shrugged. “You don’t have to come, because I’m already taking the best protection ever: Pumpkin Cake!”
Bulky Biceps narrowed his eyes for a few moments until he smiled. “Oh, I get it. Cause of that spell! And the bullets, they’d just...”
He made a whizzing motion with his hoof.
Pound nodded. “You got it. Take the rest of the weekend off, Biceps.”
Biceps grinned. “YEEEEAAAAHHHH! Time to hit the gym!”
Pound grabbed his sister in his arms and they flew off out the door and off towards the continent of Stirrup. On the flight of several hours, they talked and caught up on their lives.
It was dusk by the time the twins were sitting at a table outside of a cafe in a little town in Prance. It was a nation a lot like Equestria, with ponies of all three races living there, except that they spoke a different language. The streets were paved with cobblestone, vines crawled up the sides of buildings, and there was a gorgeous fountain in the town square.
“You can drink at fifteen here, too,” said Pound Cake, who ordered them each a glass of wine.
“You know, it’s kind of stupid to have a set age for things,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Some ponies mature faster than others. Some, like Trixie, never grow up. Some, like us, grow up early.”
“Well,” said Pound Cake, “Applejack said that I was too rash, and that was part of being a teenager.”
The waiter arrived with their wine.
“I mean, rash. Can you imagine?” asked Pound. “I’m not rash. Like, come on, when was the last time I did something on a whim?”
“This trip,” said Pumpkin Cake, taking a small sip of her wine. Her face puckered up at its taste.
“Well, okay, this was a fun impulse, though. Besides that,” said Pound, practically gulping his wine down.
“When you gave that interview to the Tall Tale Times with no plan on how you would destroy those crops,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“But that worked out for the best in the end, didn’t it?” asked Pound Cake.
Pumpkin Cake shrugged. “Well, now they’re rounding up earth ponies and pegasi in Copa to negotiate as hostages to save their kingdom, so you tell me.”
Pound Cake spat out his wine. “They’re doing what?”
“They’re going onto the streets, and when they see an earth pony or pegasus, they put him in a van and ship him off to Chupacabra Stadium. Usually they take homeless ponies, but sometimes they take regular ponies walking around.”
“So you saw this when you were there, over a week ago,” Pound Cake clarified.
Pumpkin nodded.
“And you didn’t stop it?” he demanded.
Pumpkin laughed. “What was I supposed to do? Put myself in danger to go on some crusade? I thought you said you didn’t like those.”
“I don’t like crusades when they’re causeless, but saving hundreds of thousands of ponies sounds like a pretty good cause to me. As to what you should do… oh, I don’t know, maybe you should use your magic!” said Pound Cake, pointing accusingly towards her horn.
“So just because I have a horn, I’m obligated to help? Is that how that works? There’s half a million other unicorns in Mareicopa; so where are they? Why does it always have to be me?”
“Because you’re powerful. You have a gift, just like I do. You have to stand up and do the right thing,” said Pound. He motioned for the waiter to bring two more glasses of win.
“Yes, I’m powerful, and if I could just wish the internment all away like that, of course I would do that. But I’m not a one-mare army, Pound Cake. No unicorn is. Not even the alicorns are. I can’t just take out dozens of armed ponies by myself. You have your team of friends to help you do your salting, right? Well I don’t have a team in Mareicopa. It’s only me.”
“Then you should make a team,” said Pound Cake. “Go back there and gather some like-minded friends to your cause, like I did in Cloudsdale. Then you could do it.”
“Okay, but for what?” asked Pumpkin Cake, finishing her first glass of wine and starting on the second.
“For… to… you’re so dense! What do you mean ‘for what?’ To save those ponies!” said Pound Cake. “You know, if I’m too rash, then you’re too cowardly. You aren’t willing to do the right thing because it’s too hard, or too scary, even if other ponies might be killed if you don’t act.”
“Killed? Who said they would be killed? I’ll bet they’re just bargaining chips for making a truce,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“We don’t want a truce. We want a surrender,” said Pound Cake.
“No, you want a surrender. I just want to be left alone. I just spent the last five months locked in a cell underground, Pound Cake. From now on, I’m living my life for me, and nopony else. I already have tremors, panic attacks, and I have to use a sleep spell just to fall asleep at night. I’m in no mood to go put my life in danger again to do some thankless thing.”
“You were willing to do that in Appleloosa, though,” said Pound Cake.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” said Pound Cake. “You wanted to stay behind and, what were your words again? Fight them there, so you wouldn’t have to fight them someplace else?”
Pumpkin begrudgingly nodded. “Something like that.”
“Okay, so same idea here. Today, they’re just rounding up earth ponies and pegasi. Big deal; you’re a unicorn, so it doesn’t affect you. But they have to be stopped now, because the list of ponies who they imprison and who they kill will keep growing longer. What happens when they start rounding up anypony for anything?”
“Oh, you mean like Equestria does with the zebras?” Pumpkin Cake sneered. “Yeah, let’s bring Mareicopa back into Equestria, where they can be oppressed in all new ways!”
Pound Cake sighed. “Yeah, and that’s a problem, I admit. But what if it didn’t have to be like that? What if Equestria could be made into a fair country worth joining, instead of full of corruption, and hatred, and greed? Would you help stop the genocide and take down the Second Kingdom in Mareicopa, then?”
Pumpkin Cake said, “I might consider it, but how are you going to change Equestria? Sounds impossible.”
Pound Cake smiled. “I’ve been working on it with Applejack. She was best friends with the princess at one point. Even if that doesn’t work, I have some clout of my own, now that I’m famous. I’m sure I could lead a thousand ponies to peacefully march on Manehattan if I needed to. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but I will do it if that’s what it takes. So how about it?”
Pumpkin Cake finished her second glass of wine, setting it down on the table with her magic. “Sounds like a scheme that could go wrong, but okay; I’ll agree just because I want to see you try to ‘change Equestria.’ I’ll stop the roundup in Mareicopa, and try to take over the city from the Second Kingdom, but I won’t just rush into it like you would. Instead, I’ll plan every step carefully. Then you do whatever you’re up to in Equestria. We’ll meet in the middle.”
“Okay, you stop the genocide, and I’ll reform Equestria. Deal,” said Pound Cake. “I still have another bone to pick, though.”
Pumpkin raised her eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because, you seem… off. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol talking, or what, but you just seem different from normal. I want to know that I can count on you to do your part of this plan.”
“Off?” asked Pumpkin, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, off. Like, you keep shifting around in your seat, you keep glancing off in every direction. You know that we’re in Prance, right? Like, thousands of miles away from the Second Kingdom? Why are you so jittery? I’m the one with threats on my life.”
“Oh, well I was only under constant watch and locked in a cell for five months, so forgive me if I’m on the edge,” she scoffed, crossing her arms.
“That was then, this is now. You have to live in the moment, Pumpkin. All of that is in the past. Enjoy the present for what it is,” said Pound.
She shook her head. “My mind keeps going back to it. I can’t.”
Pound Cake laughed. “Of course you can. You can do whatever you set your mind to, Pumpkin. You learned that cloudwalking spell in what, a few days?”
“A few hours, actually,” she corrected.
“That proves my point even more, then,” said Pound Cake. “You’re telling me that you can do all sorts of magic that needs a lot of focus, but you can’t just focus on the present? I don’t buy it.”
“But that’s different!” said Pumpkin.
“I don’t buy it,” said Pound Cake. “Sorry.”
“You’re being dense,” she said.
“No, you’re being dense,” he said, leaning in to her across the table. “You know, you are willing to make every single self-serving excuse that you can to get out of helping other ponies escape those camps, but—”
“I already said that I would help, Pou—”
“I’m not done! You made every excuse, but then when it comes time to actually look out for yourself like you claim to want to do, you won’t even do that! Why? Are you just, like, a fan of misery? Are you a void that sucks everything in like a black ho—”
“No!” Pumpkin exclaimed, slamming her hoof against the table, making Pound blink. He noticed her eyes were misty, though she didn’t cry. Pound let a few seconds pass before he spoke again.
“Then show it,” said Pound Cake, in a softer tone. “I don’t have to leave to go to Equestria until sunday afternoon. But until then, there’s loads of cool sights and neat things to do around Stirrup. I plan on having a fun vacation... and I want you to have fun, too. Or at least, make an honest try.”
He leaned in closer towards her, patted her on the shoulder, and smiled. “Will you do it? Will you have fun, Pumpkin Cake? Just for me? Actually, not for just me, but for you?”
Pumpkin Cake nodded.
“Good,” he said.
The next two days were quite literally a whirlwind tour across Stirrup, as they only had a brief time before Pound needed to return to his pegasus posse of poisoning. But he was fast enough to get them to all of the major tourist destinations in Stirrup. They flew to towering marble arches, grand coliseums, mountaintops that broke into the edge of the horizon. They saw grand old towers and bridges and abandoned castles made of old stone.
They stopped to see the breathtaking cathedrals with stained glass windows of every color, with ceilings painted in lifelike detail. Of course, they didn’t have time to wait in line to get inside, so Pumpkin Cake just phased them through the side wall and they flew in. It was certainly large enough to fly around in, and they got to look at it up close.
Pumpkin did indeed had fun, for the first time in many months. Granted, not as much fun as she had back when she and Pound took vacations with their parents, and it took every bit of mental discipline for her to keep her mind from dwelling on her tortures even half as often, which was still every few minutes. But she found that if she focused on the grand scenes in front of her as if they were magic spells she was intently trying to cast, that helped.
After a weekend full of activities, she smiled on the flight home.
“You know what, Pound Cake? I think I’m going to be okay.”
He grinned back at her, then returned his eyes to the western horizon over the vast ocean.
She’d be alright. Maybe not today, or tomorrow. Maybe it would take months, possibly years for her to fully recover from what had happened to her. She didn’t know. But she would get fully better. When she got back to Mareicopa, she would fight to free all of those ponies, and that would help.
She was driven partly because of her deal with Pound, and partly out of just needing something to do to keep her mind occupied. But more and more as she soared through the air in Pound’s grasp, she was driven by the thought that there were now thousands of ponies, all imprisoned, scared and fearing for their lives, just like she had been. The thought of it truly disturbed her, as she knew that demon firsthoof. If freeing those ponies could help her sleep better at night, then she would do it just for that.
What had happened to her had already happened, and despite Pound’s talking-up of her magic skills, she didn’t have the power to undo the past or remove its memory.
But she did have the power to stop it from happening again.
Chupacabra Stadium was a massive stadium in downtown Mareicopa with a retractable dome, which was now closed, making the stadium look like a giant egg lying on its side. Though the stadium wasn’t as grand as the stone and marble coliseums in Stirrup, it was a perfect place for a city like Mareicopa to have hoofball games, horseshoe tosses, and other athletic events. It also made a pretty good improvised concentration camp.
Pumpkin Cake stood on the side of the street in the parking area, scoping out the stadium. Second Kingdom police officers walked around near the front steps and stood by the doors, but other than their presence, it was difficult to tell anything out of the ordinary was occurring at the stadium. In fact, there would often be this much security during regular hoofball games, though the internment of earth ponies and pegasi in Mareicopa was an open secret by now.
Besides the front doors, there were several entrances to the stadium. The side doors had no door handles on them, being emergency fire doors. Pumpkin Cake walked around back to an unattended fire door, glanced in all directions to ensure no watchers, and walked through. The hallway was lit by fluorescent lights, with concrete floors and dust everywhere. The grey brick halls were unpainted. A door to the janitor's closet stood near the middle of the hallway. This was a maintenance hallway, she figured.
After stopping by the janitor’s closet, Pumpkin followed the hall, finding the door which let out into the stadium vestibule. A mop and a wash bucket were in her magical grasp, and she wore one of the janitor’s spare denim overalls that was hanging up in the closet. She wasn’t sure how the janitor had looked, but figured that there was more than one janitor for a stadium this big. So Pumpkin changed her mane and coat color to jet black and chocolate, respectively, since it looked nothing like either her or her Red Velvet alter ego. If anypony asked, she’d just say she was a new employee.
The door creaked open as Pumpkin made her way into the vestibule. All around were Second Kingdom guards with assault rifles. A few concession stands stood abandoned, with metal coverings over them. Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached one of the entryways to the green. She would say she was there to clean up a mess. One of the guards simply nodded his head and allowed her to go through. It was easier to get by than she had expected.
Pumpkin gazed down at the green from the stands, and gasped in shock. There were around 30,000 ponies here, she figured. Thousands and thousands of cots were set up on the field, on the sidelines, under the goalposts, and in the entrance to the locker rooms. There was very little talking, mirth or laughter, mostly silence, groans, and tears, just as it had been for her in Trixie's captivity.
Most of these ponies were elderly or sickly, and coughs and sneezes peppered the field. The stench of the field was nearly unbearable, and there were just half-a-dozen portable toilets scattered around, not nearly enough for this many ponies. Pumpkin wasn't sure how many ponies it would take to get Princess Twilight to crack and sign a peace treaty, but, hopefully for them, they wouldn't have to find out.
Pumpkin Cake now realized how difficult freeing all of these ponies would be. There were dozens of guards around, and a lot of these ponies were in no condition to run off. She couldn’t rescue them all herself. Pound Cake was correct: Pumpkin needed allies. However, she didn't have the first idea of how to find like-minded ponies in a city where speaking a different opinion from the regime could mean imprisonment or disappearance.
Perhaps, though, there was another way she could stop the internment. Something of this scale didn’t just happen by itself, and all of these guards had to be taking orders from somepony. She didn’t know who, since the documents at Trixie's house didn't contain much mention about the logistics behind the internment. But if Pumpkin could find the ponies in charge and take them out, she could turn the position of Concentration Camp Manager into the least-wanted job in the city. If she killed a few head ponies, the rest of them to get the idea: the internment stops, or those responsible will die.
Pumpkin Cake returned to the vestibule where the guards stood. They were walking around without a care, as if totally unaware of the misery on the green below. There was a churning feeling in her stomach from watching them laughing and joking with each other, seemingly oblivious.
She circled the vestibule several times like a shark in search of prey until finding a young stallion who stood alone, with nopony else in sight. When the guard’s back was turned to her, she pounced on him, her horn coruscating as they both disappeared, then reappeared inside of the janitor's closet.
The stallion glanced up at her, only having just re-materialized. He reached for his gun, but found it gone. Pumpkin Cake subdued him in a blue glow, pinning him against the wall.
“Listen closely. I will allow you to speak, but if you call for help, or if you don’t answer my questions, I will snap your neck. Now tell me, who is in charge of the internment?”
The pony blinked a few times, then stammered, “His n-name is F-fancy Pants.”
“Where can I find him?” she demanded.
“He's at the administration building downtown. Please don't hurt me! I'll do anything you want!”
Pumpkin chuckled. “Not so fun being on the other end, is it?” she scoffed.
His mouth moved a mile a minute as he spoke like a pony at the end of a radio commercial for experimental medicine.
“Listen, I’m just seventeen, and I’m from Copa, but I enlisted when I found out that Twilight was blowing up parade floats full of little kids; I just had to stand up to that, and those magic control laws. I didn’t want to round up earth ponies; I’m just following orders! I don’t like the internment either and it’s just as bad as what Twilight does to the zebras. Please let me go and I promise that I won’t tell anypony that you’re after Fancy Pants. I want him dead too for what he’s doing.”
Pumpkin was silent for a minute, considering his words. He had made some interesting points, and had certainly touched on her own issues with Twilight Sparkle. Could he be telling the truth, or was he just being crafty? Quickly, she formulated a plan that would tell her.
“Fine,” said Pumpkin Cake, as her horn lit up and she retrieved his rifle, that now was slung across her own back thanks to a teleportation trick. “If you really are serious, then go out into the hallway and shoot another guard dead. I’ll teleport you to safety once you do it.”
The gun floated over towards him, and then dropped to the floor. She waited for him to pick it up, ensconcing herself with magic in case he turned it on her. Surely enough, he glanced at the gun, sat for a few moments, then shook his head.
“Sorry. I don’t want to be a fugitive. But at least I might get a promotion from offing a partisan.”
He grabbed the gun in his own magic, and pointed it towards Pumpkin, pulling the trigger as a spray of bullets passed harmlessly through her.
And here I was, hoping I’d found a kindred spirit, she lamented. She grabbed the gun and turned it on the rather confused stallion. His blood and brains painted the closet with a gushy splat. Pumpkin disappeared, taking the gun and remaining ammunition.
Three Days Later
Though Mareicopa was a large city in population, much of it was sprawl, and it had few tall skyscrapers. It was much like Fillydelphia in that respect. In fact, the administrative building of Mareicopa, at twenty-five stories high, was the second-tallest building in town.
Like all the other buildings in Mareicopa, it had a reddish-orange mesa exterior. It didn’t have modern air conditioning like many newer buildings in town, so most of its windows stood open all day, with window fans running on full blast.
Pumpkin Cake had spent the last few days scoping out the building and watching through the windows, taking copious notes. There were five armed guards stationed around the perimeter, and twenty-five inside, one for each floor. She had come to know her target’s security, including the times that he left for and arrived to work, took lunches and breaks, and when the guards would do their rounds and check on him.
She had also come to know the target himself. In addition to the internment, Fancy Pants was also in charge of propaganda. Every friday night, he organized a unicorn rally in the center of town with hundreds of ponies waving red and black Second Kingdom flags, though he usually didn’t attend them himself. Fancy Pants had also put up many propaganda posters around the town. There were so many falsities, Pumpkin had lost track.
“Better life for earth ponies and pegasi! Come to Chupacabra Stadium!”
“Blueblood, the savior of the unicorn race!”
“This zebra is your friend. He fights for freedom.”
It made her sick, and she would be glad to take out such a liar. She had also seen wanted posters hanging up with her own face on them.
“WANTED: Pumpkin Cake, age 15, female, for murder and high treason against the unicorn race. Magically proficient and highly dangerous, alert authorities upon sight.”
For this attack, she had changed her hair and mane color to jet black and chocolate again so she wouldn’t be easily spotted.
Fancy Pants’ office was on the top floor, and she had planned quite a show for his assassination. She brought a camera in her saddlebag to take pictures, because she figured that the Second Kingdom publicists would not wants to reveal the details about his gruesome death themselves. But she would take them to the Tall Tale Times, since that paper was still available in the Second Kingdom. Then it would percolate through the grapevine of the intelligentsia, and nopony would post for Fancy Pants’ vacant chair.
Initially, Pumpkin hadn’t planned on striking him in his office, preferring to take him out at home. But, unlike Trixie, Fancy Pants could teleport, and quite a long distance, too. It had been impossible for her to trail him when he left or arrived at work in a teleport flash, and she had failed to find his address otherwise, so she just settled on killing him in his office.
But you can’t teleport out of your office walls, Fancy Pants, she recalled. The principle of teleportation was that an unobstructed path had to exist between the unicorn and his destination. The path could curve, but its girth had to be at least as wide as the unicorn, so unicorns couldn’t merely teleport past obstacles like closed doors, walls, or jail cell bars. Good thing, or else unicorn burglars would have a field day.
Pumpkin Cake, however, could teleport past such barriers if she used her intangibility and teleportation spells simultaneously, a difficult combo she had used during one of her failed escape attempts from the Research Department, and that she had done when interrogating the stadium guard a few days ago. But it was easier to just teleport right up to a wall and then pass through it, which was what she had planned for the assassination.
In the run-up to the assassination day, Pumpkin had been conducting hit-and-run attacks against guards at the stadium, amassing a stockpile of various weapons until she found a small pistol, perfect for carrying around concealed in her saddlebag. Ironically, the smallest weapons were harder to come by, and she had to kill five guards until she found one who had a sidearm. But now that she no longer had to worry about ‘naturally’ falling asleep, it was surprisingly easy for her to kill. No more restless nights of pesky thoughts like whether any of those stallions and mares had families, or whether they deserved it.
That must be how Blueblood sleeps after everything he’s done; he uses the sleep spell in his book, Pumpkin figured. That, or he simply had no conscience.
Pumpkin had spent time out in the desert, shooting at tin cans to improve her aim and get used to guns again. Though she was rusty from being underground for months, the training from the range in Appleloosa soon came back.
The evening before, she had been into the administrative building after-hours and scoped out Fancy Pants’ office. It was a top-floor corner office, with two windows, both usually kept cracked open enough to let in air, but not enough to teleport out of. Today, though, both of his windows were closed, since it was a rather mild day.
Good, she thought. Nopony outside will hear.
Thankfully, Fancy Pants didn’t have any bodyguards in his office. There was one stationed about ten meters down the hall from his door, though, so she would have to be quiet to avoid alerting him. If he became a hassle, she planned on shooting at him through the door, since the angle was just right.
Once she was confident she had thought of everything and was ready, she teleported up onto the roof, appearing right in the middle, where the angle was too steep to be seen by anypony on the ground. She walked to the corner of the building and then counted seven paces inward, just like she had practiced earlier. Her horn created a hatch in the ceiling, and she jumped down, her weapon pointed towards Fancy Pants’ desk.
Fancy Pants sat at his desk, his horn glowing as he attending to some important business. His head jolted up as he heard a thud, and then his jaw gaped.
Standing before him was a young unicorn mare with a chocolate coat, jet black mane, and blue eyes narrowed in a determined glare. Her magic glowed blue, and in her telekinetic grasp, she pointed a pistol straight towards him. He had no idea how she had gotten into his office, since his door had been locked, and he hadn’t even heard it open.
Fancy Pants remained seated, but threw his hooves up into the air and begged, “Don’t sh--”
Suddenly, he was silenced by her magic.
“Don’t move another muscle,” The mare demanded. “It’s time to end your little game, Fancy Pants. You’ve done nothing but lie, and now ponies are dying because of you.”
Fancy Pants blinked. A shiver ran down his spine, and the room suddenly felt icy cold as the young mare stared him down with a scowl. He gulped as he reached an inescapable conclusion.
Blueblood knew he was a traitor.
He had no idea how. He kept his meetings with Agent Sparkler entirely secret and protected from eavesdroppers, and he’d churned out as convincing of propaganda for the Second Kingdom as he possibly could, and he’d organized the internment. Maybe Top Brass had tipped Blueblood off after the attempted Equestrian invasion of Mareicopa. Who knew? But somehow, Blueblood’s intelligence apparatus had caught up with him, he’d been discovered as a traitor to the Second Kingdom, and they had sent this hitmare to his office to kill him.
“Any last words? You’re normally so wordy on those posters,” said the mare.
What could he do? He would have to say something to save his own life somehow, or this mare would shoot him. For the first few moments, he couldn’t think straight. Normally, he was quite eloquent, but this time, his words escaped him.
Finally, Fancy Pants regained his composure, sat up straight in his chair, and proclaimed, “I’m not a traitor. I’ve been perfectly loyal to the Second Kingdom and to Blueblood. We have already captured 50,000 earth ponies and pegasi, surpassing Blueblood’s minimum number, and we’re on track to meet 100,000 by the end of October. Army enlistments have increased 10% thanks to my recruitment drive. And, I even have a long list of traitors and partisans that I’ve given to Blueblood. Maybe you’ve even been assigned to kill some of them.”
The mare blinked, a confused look on her face.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
Figures, she’s just a hitmare who probably doesn’t know about the role I play. She’s just been told to come kill me, no questions asked. Maybe if I show her the list, she’ll believe me, Fancy Pants thought.
“I’m going to slowly open my desk drawer. There is something inside I’d like you to see. Please do not be alarmed,” he said.
His horn lit up, and the old oak desk drawer slowly opened, a slight creak escaping the drawer. The mare’s ears shot up, and she floated her gun right up to Fancy Pants’ face, pressing it against his nose.
“That had better not be a gun!” she exclaimed.
Fancy Pants powered down his horn. “It’s a piece of paper. Grab it with your own magic if you like.”
A blue field enveloped the piece of paper inside of the desk, and it floated over to the mare.
She glanced at it with one eye, keeping the other eye trained firmly on his face along with the gun.
“That is my newest list of partisans and traitors,” said Fancy Pants. “I have been observing these ponies for months. I’ve gathered more names, ones that not even the intelligence service knows about, and ones that aren’t even on that list, only in my head. As the propaganda minister, I’m in a good position to find these names. I talk to a lot of ponies, you know. But if you kill me, you won’t get any more of the names. If you kill me, a true Second Kingdom patriot will die, but all of the actual traitors will still be walking free.”
Pumpkin Cake’s heart skipped a beat. Then, she smiled, and had to keep herself from laughing as she realized what he meant.
This Fancy Pants character was so wrapped up in his own propaganda, so wrapped up in fear and lies, that he thought that she was a hitmare, sent to kill him for being disloyal to the Second Kingdom! She had no idea what he would have to worry about, though. After all, given the internment of earth ponies and pegasi that he had orchestrated, and given the heaping helping of eyesore propaganda posters that he had plastered over the city’s walls like some graffiti gangster, only the most conspiratorial of ponies would question Fancy Pants’ unwavering loyalty to Blueblood.
She thought for a second. She supposed she could tell him that she was actually from Equestria, and that she was seeking retribution on everypony who marched under the flag of genocidal fascists, and that she sought to free the earth ponies and pegasi in Mareicopa from the same ponies who had killed her parents and enslaved her like a common farm animal, harvesting her magic like milk from a cow, all while supposedly standing for the supremacy of unicorns and their right to be free.
But then she decided against it.
If this clown was going to die, she thought, then his punishment would be to think that he had failed at his life’s mission of spreading hate and lies, not that he had succeeded. The Second Kingdom had destroyed almost everything that Pumpkin Cake held dear: her parents, Ponyville, Appleloosa. So it only seemed fair to her that, before killing this sputtering old windbag, she give him the same treatment and take from him what he valued most: his sense of usefulness to the unicorn race.
Fancy Pants would die thinking that he was a total and utter failure, and that Blueblood had ordered his death. She would not give him the pleasure of knowing her struggle, of knowing the train wreck of despair that the Second Kingdom had made of her life. Instead, she would execute him on the spot, his head filled with the same delusions and falsities that he had spent his life concocting. The irony was delicious.
That, and she had already wasted too much time to give a monologue, anyway. The guards would be doing their rounds soon.
“Sorry, but your fate is sealed. Blueblood’s orders,” said Pumpkin Cake. She placed the list from Fancy Pants inside of her saddlebag, and then her horn lit up as she prepared his execution.
Pumpkin had never actually ripped out a pony’s heart before. It seemed rather barbaric to her, but that was the point: to terrorize the Second Kingdom and ensure another pony didn’t simply rise up to take Fancy Pants’ place. Simply shooting him in the head? Too predictable, too painless, easily forgotten. But ripping his heart out? It would be talked about for centuries.
His chest turned intangible, and she felt around through his internal organs with her magic like a claw crane at an arcade until she finally found the prize: soft, squishy, and beating, but not for long. She yanked on it, but ended up just pulling Fancy Pants’ entire body forward, out of his chair, and on top of his desk, his heart still inside his chest. He passed out and slumped onto the desktop, seemingly lifeless, though his heart was still beating so it was just from shock.
Pumpkin realized her error: she hadn’t made the opening big enough for the heart to fit through. Come to find out, pony hearts were a lot bigger than she had thought, and she lamented not having planned this part out better. Perhaps she should have rehearsed this beforehoof on a corpse. Oh well, she’d just try again--
Suddenly, Fancy Pants disappeared in a flash of light.
Pumpkin’s head jolted as she turned around. He couldn’t have teleported out of the room since the door was shut. Indeed, he was next to the door, about five meters away. He was still slumped over, unconscious, so Pumpkin wondered how he had managed to teleport.
She turned to walk towards him, but a hoof whacked her in the back of the head. Her gun clanked to the floor and stars blinded her vision as she nearly blacked out, until she turned intangible to protect herself from her attacker. But then she did, and she looked back towards whoever had hit her.
Nopony was there. She and Fancy Pants were the only ponies inside the office. She floated there like a specter for a few seconds until she realized that her attacker must be invisible. No matter. The assassination would go on; she would simply do it while intangible. She approached Fancy Pants, floating at about half a meter per second, the quickest pace she could manage with levitation magic. It was the only way she could move while intangible, without solid hooves to touch the ground.
Just as she was close to him, he disappeared again. She turned and saw that he was now behind his desk, next to the window. The invisible attacker was just going to keep teleporting him around the room just out of her reach, she figured. So, she turned to plan B: just shoot him, since the bullet would turn solid as soon as it left the gun barrel. But she couldn’t find her gun. She called out a curse word which made no sound.
A mare’s voice spoke. “The invisible versus the intangible. Looks like we’re at an impasse, Pumpkin Cake.”
The voice knew her name. Her eyes widened in surprise.
The voice chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t care how often you change your hair color, but when you use that spell, you might as well wear a nametag that says, ‘Hello, my name is Pumpkin Cake, how can I kill you today?’ It’s a dead giveaway. Though I admit, you even had me fooled there for a second, and I honestly thought that Fancy Pants really was being killed for treason. But I had my doubts Blueblood would send a hitmare so young, and once you shielded yourself with that spell, I knew for certain.
“Now, I gotta say, your assassination plan was brilliant… you know, up until the whole ‘killing the target’ step. Tearing a pony’s heart out? What is this, a Daring Do novel? You should have just used a bullet, and your plan would have worked, but I guess that serial killers like you never take the easy route, huh? No, bullets are what well-adjusted, normal ponies do, and you’re anything but normal.
“Like all serial killers, you want your murders to have pizazz, that signature Pumpkin Cake flair. It’s just like how you killed Trixie Lulamoon: in a gruesome way nopony else but you could’ve done. And hey, as a pony who often kills in style herself, I can respect that. Protip, though: the more complex your plan, the more that can go wrong. When you pulled Fancy forward out of his chair during your failed heart-wrenching, you gave me room to get out from under the desk and subdue you.”
Pumpkin Cake raised an eyebrow. At first, she had thought that this mare was Fancy Pants’ bodyguard or something, but then why had she been under the desk? After pondering for a moment, Pumpkin realized there could only have been one reason, and it sure wasn’t to shine his horseshoes! She giggled inaudibly.
The voice became annoyed. “Oh, grow up. So you caught Fancy Pants with his fancy pants down. Big deal, we all have needs. At least my need isn’t to take ponies’ hearts… well, not literally. Metaphorically though, his heart is mine, and I can’t let you have it, Pumpkin Cake; that would be stealing.”
Pumpkin visibly shuddered at the idea of two fascists in love, particularly ones who must have been in their sixties. Ew and gross.
The voice concluded in a braggadocious fashion, “I have your gun. Now, I know that you can’t stay intangible forever, just as I can’t stay invisible forever, but I’ve been training in magic since before you were a twinkle in mommy and daddy’s eyes, so I’ll bet that my timer is a lot longer than yours. I don’t want to kill you, because I think that between said parents’ deaths and being tortured by Trixie, you’ve suffered enough. So why don’t you just phase through the wall and go float on, okay? Quit being a serial killer and get help. See a shrink or something.”
The invisible mare’s words hung in the air for a moment, floating just like Pumpkin Cake. She was flabbergasted. Even if she were tangible and able to speak, she didn’t know what she’d say. So, having been both physically and verbally vanquished, she did as the voice said and teleported away to safety.
“Hey, wake up.”
Fancy Pants grunted and moaned, turning his head over. Amethyst Star planted a single kiss on his cheek. That got his attention, and he lifted his head off the desk. Back when he had felt his heart being squeezed by that young mare, he had thought for sure that he was dead. But apparently, not today.
“That was Pumpkin Cake, Fancy,” said a now-visible Agent Sparkler. “I guess she’s out on some sort of revenge killing spree. Can’t really blame her, after what Trixie put her through.”
Fancy Pants raised an eyebrow. “Good gracious! That was Pumpkin Cake?”
Sparkler nodded. “Yeah! How come you couldn’t tell? I mean, I was under the desk where I couldn’t see, so at least I have an excuse, but you were staring her right in the face! Different mane and coat color, but still, you have a bunch of wanted posters of her face hanging all over the town!”
Fancy Pants shrugged. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Amethyst, but I was in fear for my life, and wasn’t quite thinking straight. I apologize that I gave her that list, but it was a saving throw.”
Sparkler sighed. “Well, that list was for you to give to Blueblood to further prove your loyalty to him, right before you kill him. But I guess that I can just write up a new list, since I memorized all the names on it. I’m not too worried that Pumpkin Cake has the original, since there’s little she can do with it.”
“Indeed, whose names were on that list?” asked Fancy Pants. “You never told me.”
“It was on a need-to-know basis, and you didn’t need to know,” Sparkler quipped. “But now that you ask: ponies who wanted to join the underground against the Second Kingdom in Mareicopa.”
Fancy Pants raised an eyebrow. “Why would you give me a list of real partisans to give to Blueblood? Don’t we need them?”
Sparkler shook her head. “Because the partisans on that list all had issues and weren’t good enough to join my group of elites. I’ve been helping to organize the resistance here in Mareicopa, remember? I vet them all to make sure they’re kosher. Even after the Second Kingdom is kicked out of Copa, we’ll still need good ponies in this city to restore the local government and smoothly transition this city back into Equestrian rule of law. The ponies on the list Cake took were gung-ho about the ‘kicking out the Second Kingdom’ part, but they weren’t so gung-ho about the whole ‘back to Equestria afterwards’ part.
“Equestria doesn’t need lukewarm, armed ponies in this city when we get it back; there will already be enough ponies upset over the reintroduction of the magic laws. I figure, let Blueblood’s intelligence service get rid of some of those ponies for us, and you get a nice little feather in your loyalty cap for giving him those names. Win-win. All of the true partisans, who are Equestrian loyalists to the bone, were not on that list or any other list that I have given you.”
Fancy Pants nodded. “Not very forthright of you, though I’m not one to criticize treachery, seeing as how I am the master of it.”
Sparkler chuckled, putting her arm around Fancy Pants and giving him another peck on the cheek. “You’re fancy and mysterious. But now I’m worried about your safety. You can’t stay here; Pumpkin Cake might come back and try to kill you again soon. I doubt she’d fail a second time. With that spell, she can follow you anywhere, and can become invincible. It was pure dumb luck that I stopped her plan this time. Our only hope is to get you inside of an electrified faraday cage that she can’t just phase through.”
“Like the one in the Magical Research Department basement?” asked Fancy Pants.
Sparkler gazed off into the distance. “That would be perfect, actually… but wait, no. Pumpkin knows about that one. How long would it take her to figure out that, after she tried to kill you, we moved you to the one place in Mareicopa specifically designed to stop her intangibility spell? And then how long would it take for her to cut the power and infiltrate it?”
Fancy Pants sighed. “Good observation. And it would take at least a week to put up a faraday cage anyplace else. The only other places in the Second Kingdom that I can think of with such anti-magic cages are the dangerous convict cells of the maximum security prison, which I can’t stay in for obvious reasons, and also--”
“Blueblood’s bunker,” they both said simultaneously.
Fancy Pants shook his head. “But I wasn’t going to leave to go to Blueblood’s bunker until when I was going to kill him at the end of the month. He won’t be pleased if I take a trip to see him in Canterlot without having finished the internment first. In fact, he specifically excused me from every one of our minister meetings in Canterlot until it’s finished; that’s how important it is to him that I dedicate all of my effort to this.”
Sparkler shrugged. “We could use a few more weeks; it’s true, but you’ve just had an assassination attempt. Of all ponies, I think Blueblood would understand that. Besides, you’ve already rounded up 50,000 earth ponies and pegasi. That was the minimum, right?”
“Yes,” said Fancy Pants.
“Then just tell him that you have competent ponies in Mareicopa who can take the internment from here, but that you had to come hunker in the bunker with him due to a threat on your life,” said Sparkler. “Even if he does resent it, once you give him that big list of partisans, he will be pleased with you again. As long as he doesn’t say anything bad about you to anypony else before you kill him.”
“And now when will I do that?” asked Fancy Pants.
Sparkler nodded. “We’re moving the plan forward. Carry it out within a day of getting to his bunker.”
Fancy Pants raised an eyebrow. “But you said that I’d leave from here as soon as possible, so that means that I’ll kill him…”
“Tomorrow, yes.”
Pumpkin Cake sat inside Trixie’s house, laying down on the bed as she stared up at the ceiling. There were so many questions running through her mind. Who was that invisible pony? How did she know so much about her? How could she have been so stupid as to not plan out her assassination better?
Of course, those were the strategic questions. There were also questions about what the invisible mare had said about her personally. Was Pumpkin really a mentally deranged serial killer like the invisible mare said? No way, she thought, recalling the Detective Cold Case novel about the serial killer.
Serial killers usually killed more than three ponies over several years. She had only killed--well, dozens; she’d lost count. But that couldn’t just be it, because then every soldier on the battlefield would be a serial killer, and they obviously weren’t. She had only killed due to the war, and wartime didn’t count, did it? If not for the war, she’d be a regular high schooler more concerned with grades than genocide. Surely Pumpkin wouldn’t kill in peacetime, but serial killers were killers because something was wrong with them, and they’d kill even during peacetime.
Serial killers had a pathological need to kill, an uncontrollable desire, and it was a vice that they derived joy from--then Pumpkin thought back to when she had killed Trixie, partly out of wanting to escape from captivity, true, but also partly out of a wish to simply see her dead. She thought of how she relished in Fancy Pants dying thinking that he was a worthless propaganda minister. Did that venture beyond mere assassination into killing-for-fun territory? No, she thought. Roller coasters were fun, magic was fun, but killing ponies? Not so much. It did still bother her to kill, and if not for her sleep spell, she would suffer many restless nights from it. True serial killers had no reservations, no questions about what they did.
Besides, she didn’t meet the biggest serial killer red flag from the Cold Case novels: a lack of empathy. True, she was less empathetic than Pound, but she still cared for others and was no sociopath. She was only continuing to kill out of care for others, in fact, were it not for wanting to stop the internment of earth ponies and pegasi, she’d be content to never kill again. Also, serial killers usually had no friends, whereas Pumpkin did. She’d had friends in Ponyville. She’d had friends in Appleloosa. She didn’t have any friends now, true, but she’d only been out of captivity for a few weeks.
She levitated Fancy Pants’ list out of the saddlebag. There were dozens of names and addresses on it. Fancy Pants said that all of these ponies were partisans and traitors to the Second Kingdom. Pumpkin would fit right in. So she’d follow Pound’s advice.
“Time to make some friends.”
Aunt and Uncle Orange and Peachy Pitt were seated at their dining room table in Manehattan, enjoying scrumptious meals of saldade a l'orange. Opposite them on the long table, there sat Jet Set and Upper Crust, wine glasses levitating in their magic.
Uncle Orange tapped a wine glass with a spoon. “This meeting of the Minds and Markets Club has come to order,” he said.
“Hear, hear,” said Aunt Orange.
Uncle Orange grabbed a sheet of paper from the table, glanced down at it, and said, “Now, our agenda for discussion… Winston, could you fetch my reading glasses?”
“Why do you two always have to be so formal?” asked Peachy Pitt. “Can’t we just have a normal discussion and let the conversation flow naturally? I know that they’re business associates, but Jetty and Crusty are long-time friends of the family, too.”
The unicorn couple nodded in agreement.
“Perhaps a less-structured meeting would be best,” said Jet Set. “I’m more for synergizing and a meeting of the minds, and less for formality. We can always come back to your list if we miss a topic.”
Uncle Orange groaned. “Very well then; let us just go from topic to topic, grazing on whatever suits our fancy like cattle in the field.”
“Be civil, dear,” said Aunt Orange.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Jet Set asked, “How goes the Second Kingdom? Are we assured a perpetual adversary, so JSUC Munitions can keep selling weapons and warplanes?”
“Well, they’re willing to round up and perhaps kill tens of thousands of earth ponies and pegasi so they won’t have to surrender, so you tell me,” said Peachy Pitt, chuckling. “I think they’re going to be around for a long time.”
Jet Set and Upper Crust smiled. “That’s wonderful news for us,” said Upper Crust. “Though, obviously, not for those earth ponies and pegasi.”
“Or for the unicorns who could starve this winter,” said Peachy Pitt in between bites of her orange salad. “Not all of them have rich earth pony relatives with nice penthouses that they can go chow down at.”
Aunt Orange let out a chuckle. Uncle Orange grinned slightly at his niece. Despite Peachy Pitt’s commoner parlance, she had a quirky sense of humor which sometimes breached even the Oranges’ upper-class facade.
“Though they hopefully wouldn’t starve, I should think,” said Uncle Orange. “Despite that pegasus’ salting of our mechanized Flatlands farms, Orange Incorporated may be able to realize windfall profits. Our board of directors in in agreement here. Starving ponies will have to pay any food price we set, after all, and their hunger will trump their racism. Are those stealth transport planes ready, Jet Set?”
He nodded. “Upper Crust and I have been running the production lines at full capacity, and with any luck, you should be able to fly crates of oranges and wheat to the Second Kingdom without detection from radar. Though we’ve run into a few issues with our union factory workers. The ASDF keeps demanding higher and higher wages for the overtime. If only we could mechanize the process in our factory like you have in those Flatlands farms of yours. Machines can’t unionize.”
“Someday we won’t need those troublesome workers at all, except a token few to oil the gears and monitor the automated lines,” said Upper Crust. “Even those few will be replaced with robots far in the future.”
Aunt Orange chuckled. “You may encounter a few difficulties in that. Why do you think that the Second Kingdom was our testing ground for mechanized farming? Our luddite farmhooves in Manesas started burning down our crop fields a few years ago when there was even a rumor of automation. Those simpletons think that the ‘earth pony way’ is to toil away with a hoof-pulled plow all of your days until dying of exhaustion. But we think the earth pony way is to make a profit and work with our minds and machines, not our muscles.”
“Hear, hear,” said Uncle Orange. “The Second Kingdom had to automate, because they had no earth ponies, and wanted to grow their own food to escape the Equestrian food tariffs. Necessity is the mother of invention. Flim and Flam were mechanical geniuses but otherwise idiots, making them useful puppets, and they provided the perfect shell corporation for us as earth ponies to reap the Flatlands profits without Blueblood’s knowledge.”
“When they died, it passed to me,” said Peachy Pitt. “The unicorn-run farms were supposed to out-produce even the Equestrian farms, proving to investors the need for mechanical tractors and harvesters in Equestrian farms as well. Our snag is the pegasus. We’ve tried killing him several times, but he’s hung on. But with the Oranges’ plan to sell the Second Kingdom our food using me as a unicorn cover, the SK should be able to make it through the winter, and the Oranges will recoup their profits. I don’t know if the war will continue, though. From what I’ve heard at the meetings, the SK may try to sign another truce and use the time to regroup.”
Upper Crust shrugged. “An unsteady peace with the looming threat of war from an intact Second Kingdom is still better for business than a reunited Equestria. Cold wars drum up arms sales almost as much as hot ones do, as shown in the last ceasefire. Besides, there is always the west coast theater with the Zebra Empire. That could be left smouldering for years.”
“Did you sell Zaporizhia those planes that the Second Kingdom couldn’t supply?” asked Peachy Pitt.
Jet Set nodded. “Yes. We flew them a few hundred of them east from the JSUC factory in Fillydelphia, circumnavigating the globe until we reached the Zebra Empire. Whatever Zaporizhia needs those planes for, he was desperate, and we charged him billions of ZE m’sukos. Of course, that only converts into a few million EQ bits, but still far better per plane than Equestria would ever pay.”
Peachy Pitt smiled from ear to ear. “That’s a sweet finders’ fee for me!”
Upper Crust smiled back. “Zappo even paid us wholly in cash. The money will be transferred to your account as soon as we can launder it through the zebra mafia in Tall Tale. Hopefully not more than a few weeks, though there’s been a disruption in business with the riots over there.”
“Yeah, I hear Tall Tale is a wreck, and they’re predicting more trouble after the court ruling comes out. Glad I live in Canterlot!” Peachy Pitt exclaimed.
Aunt Orange shifted in her chair. “Just so long as those planes aren’t turned against us, or used to kill Equestrians.”
“All of our facilities are on the east coast in Fillydelphia. Tall Tale and the entire west coast can burn to the ground or fall to the zebras as long as it means more arms sales. Our primary duty is to our shareholders, not to Tall Tale. Profits first. The war must continue,” said Jet Set.
“We have no interests that far west, either. Though we attempted to acquire Berry Punch’s orchards, we could not agree on a price,” said Uncle Orange. “The west coast can fall.”
“Perfect, then. To perpetual war and perpetual profit!” proclaimed Upper Crust. The five all raised their glasses in a toast, clinking them together and taking a drink.
Off in the corner was a single fancy suit of pony armor. It had become a boiling kettle of rage as Applejack stood inside, gnashing her teeth and trying her absolute best not to burst out and kick over the table for the lies and betrayal of her family. Beads of condensation formed on the metal facemask, and she was almost sure that steam was probably coming out from the ears on the suit.
Applejack’s family, ponies that she had trusted her entire life, were conspiring to make profit off of the suffering of other ponies. They were fomenting war and starvation to earn blood money, all while pretending to love her. It hurt more than anything else she had ever heard in her life.
But now, at least, she had proof for Twilight Sparkle. The top business executives and barons of Equestria were colluding behind the scenes, endangering Equestria and the lives of countless ponies with their recklessness, putting profits ahead of ponies. These were even the advisors that were on Twilight’s own economic council. They were probably giving her bad advice that could put the war effort in danger, and Twilight didn’t even know that she and Equestria were being swindled.
The last rays of the afternoon sun shone down on the grasslands of the continent of Zebrica. Crickets chirped as the wind blew through the tall grass. Rocks and the occasional tree were strewn about the otherwise flat savannah. High above the ground, Gilda the griffon soared through the air, her keen predator eyes taking in every single detail. She could see a mouse or rattlesnake rustle in the bushes from far above, though she was after larger prey.
She came across a small zebra village: the town of Poleka. Most of the buildings were huts made out of mud and straw. The great industrialization in the cities of the Zebra Empire hadn’t spread to the country. A fire was lit in the town center, with zebras sitting around it, singing and chatting. Mothers and children were standing at the pond outside of the village, taking drinks. Several zebras were out in the grasslands, grazing.
No zebra saw or heard her coming. Griffon wings were as quiet as a falling leaf. Her target, an elderly zebra stallion sitting on his front porch smoking a pipe, did not even realize. He was only aware of the pain for a second as her razor-sharp talons pierced his skull, scrambling his brain. Just as a young zebra colt had noticed Gilda, calling out in shock in the zebra tongue, she had already ascended into the air.
Some of the griffons just didn’t care. They’d snatch young children while they played in the yard, or they wouldn’t properly ensure their victims were dead, instead leaving them alive and terrified on the flight back to the Nest. Gilda wasn’t like that. She was a predator, true, but only because she had to be. She at least tried to take the oldest zebras who had lived full lives, or the injured ones who were on death’s door anyway, and make their death as easy as possible.
Regardless, she didn’t like having to eat sentient beings in order to survive. She’d much rather live off of oats and apples like her pony friends in Equestria. But that just wasn’t enough to support a three-hundred kilogram killing machine, even one that didn’t want to be a killing machine. Griffons needed huge volumes of protein that they could only get from meat.
“Herbivore” griffons would slowly rot away to nothing. First, their eyesight would go. Then, their talons would fall out. Finally, their bones would crumble, until they eventually died. It was a months-long, agonizing process, and only the most moralistic griffons undertook it, who were unwilling to either kill living creatures or commit suicide out of self-hatred for their own wretched existence. The rest, like her, simply had to live with who they were.
Thousands of years ago, griffons used to prey on ponies in Equestria, back when the three pony tribes were still apart. Once the tribes were united under Celestia and Luna, the princesses demanded that the griffons never hunt in Equestria again. After all, the princesses reasoned, they were raising sun and moon for the entire world, so the least that the griffons could do in return would be to leave their little ponies alone and go hunt in another country. With the three tribes united, they presented a formidable defense against predation. Either the magic of the unicorns, or the flight and weather of the pegasi, or the strength of the earth ponies could be overcome by itself… but not when the tribes were working together with these skills in harmony.
So the griffons resettled to the continent of Zebrica, where they tried to find new prey. They decided on zebras, because all of the other potential game in Zebrica didn’t work. The dingoes were vicious, tough to kill, and their meat was too sinewy. The herds of wild gazelles “belonged” to the manticores, who would fight griffons to the death for even looking at “their” prey wrong. Elephants and giraffes were too big. So zebras were the only game in town.
To solve the ethical problem of predation, the griffons had tried animal husbandry, but that had its own problems. How much better was it to kill twenty chickens to get the same meat that was in a single zebra? Chickens were quite smart for farm animals. Some of them could even cluck along at kindergarten level conversations. There wasn’t a moral exchange rate for different species’ lives like there was for foreign currency, so who was to decide how many chickens equalled a zebra? Some griffons said “five” and ate only zebras; some said “fifty” and ate only chickens. Some just didn’t care because they liked variety in their diet. Lots of meat tasted just like chicken, but not zebra flesh.
Cows, pigs, and goats were even worse because they were more clever than chickens, and they could comprehend their mortality. The few cattle ranches in the griffon lands more resembled slave labor camps than the free-range dairy farms in Equestria, where all that was expected of them was milk. Turns out that cattle would do anything and everything in their power to escape being slaughtered and served as steak, so they had to be shackled.
At least the zebras that Gilda ate had gotten to live a full and free life, and were never tortured. At least she wasn’t responsible for the death of dozens of chickens a week, instead only killing one zebra, the meat from which could easily last her a week. It was small comfort given what she still had to do, but griffons had long learned the mental gymnastics of predation.
The zebras, though, had never been pleased about it. For many centuries, they had been easy prey, as their only defenses were flint spears and their potion-making skills. Oh, and that thing that they did where they all grouped together and their stripes blended into an ocean in which no one zebra can be distinguished from another. Perhaps that trick worked on colorblind predators, but griffons could see the entire rainbow, and Gilda had never once failed to catch a zebra simply because he was standing in a group.
But when firearms had been invented a couple of centuries ago, it leveled the playing field somewhat. At first it had just been primitive blunderbusses and muskets, which were easy enough for skilled hunters to avoid. But with the advent of machine guns a few decades ago, griffons on the hunt would often be killed themselves. It had become harder to hunt the zebras, who found themselves with extra breathing room now that their population wasn’t being constantly thinned by the griffons.
The zebra population ballooned to ten million, their economy and technology improved, and they developed a navy under Zaporizhia’s leadership, but it wasn’t until the alliance with the Second Kingdom that the Zebra Empire truly became a global power. Blueblood provided Zaporizhia with cutting-edge planes to fight the griffons, and in return, Zaporizhia provided Blueblood with an attack on the west coast of Equestria to spread the Equestrians’ forces over two fronts.
The griffons had never considered themselves at war before; they merely saw zebra as prey, not belligerents. After all, griffons only hunted when they needed to eat, whereas wars were just killing over political disputes, which griffons considered wasteful. All that good meat, shot up with bullet holes and blown apart by bombs instead of being in their bellies. But Zaporizhia saw their hunting as an act of war, and started attacking griffon nests to stop them from eating his people. At that point, predator versus prey had turned into a shooting war.
Though the Zebra army outnumbered the griffon army five to one, the griffons had air superiority, better training, and better weapons. They fought the Zebra army to a standstill on many occasions, stopping every single significant advance that they tried to make into the griffon nests. But the griffons were reluctant to fight anything other than a defensive war, and had been locked in a stalemate for many years. If they launched a successful offensive but killed too many zebras, it would cost them a potential future food source, after all. Griffons were conservationists and tried to live at one with nature. They used every part of every animal they killed, not wasting anything.
But Zaporizhia was so determined, he would fight the griffons down to the last zebra, and every Zebra citizen was eligible for the draft. So the griffons found it best to fight to a stalemate, and since Zaporizhia was fighting on another front against Equestria as well, he couldn’t give the griffons too much trouble.
Gilda was one of the last griffons in her neighborhood to hunt zebras, since the war had made it so dangerous. But she was a skilled hunter and was confident in her ability to dodge bullets and catch prey even in a warzone. In a way, the warzone made hunting easier, since some of the zebras had gotten complacent, and thought that they wouldn’t be snatched up by a griffon during a war.
She soared back towards the tall, brown cliffs off in the distance. Atop them were giant nests made of broken tree limbs, sticks, straw, and other items. Griffons didn’t do modern construction like ponies or zebras, preferring to live sustainably with items found in nature. Zebrica was warm enough to where they could sleep under the stars without freezing, and there was little rain to fall on them in their open-topped nests.
Gilda returned to her nest, located in a crag about a kilometer up. She was the only griffon inside, and she sighed at how much room there was without a mate. Though she had looked, she hadn’t found a suitable partner, and her biological clock was ticking, driving her to it. Though her body said yes, her brain said no. Who would want to raise a young hatchling in such a world? Twenty years ago, sure, but now, with the planet torn apart by wars in Zebrica and Equestria? Even the ethical quandaries of predation were enough to make her consider not reproducing, and that was a peacetime problem.
Laying the zebra down, she gathered some firewood from the nest to start a fire. She would have to set it down next to the nest, because the dry branches and twigs that made it up were quite flammable.
As she kindled a fire, the crackling of the burgeoning flames mixed with the droning of military planes. She gazed off in the sky.
Hundreds of Zebra Empire planes were approaching, overwhelming the meager griffon guards that hovered at the edge of their territory. Though the griffons tried to shoot the pilots with small arms, these planes appeared to be newer, faster models that even rivaled the griffons in speed and maneuverability. The bullets bounced harmlessly off of the cockpits, and the guns on the sides strafed the griffon soldiers.
They’d need to use larger caliber weapons. But the anti-aircraft batteries on the ground were overwhelmed in a matter of minutes, as a wave of thousands and thousands of zebras with torches descended upon the gunners. It seemed as though every zebra in that part of Zebrica was there.
In fact, with her keen eye, Gilda noticed several zebra civilians from the little village of Poleka, some that she had been scoping out for future dinners. There were women and children amongst the crowd. The gunners were reluctant to shoot at so many zebras, particularly civilians, and the zebra stallions of the crowd took advantage of their hesitation, picking off the gunners with small arms fire.
The planes continued, soaring past the distracted anti-aircraft defenses. Gilda barely even had time to grab her valuable possessions and depart her nest, because the planes were soon right up next to the cliffs. Dozens of bright red cartridges fell from the sides, scattering all over the base of the cliffs. At first, Gilda thought they were bombs, but they didn’t explode when they hit the ground. Rather, the tops cracked open, and a sinister hissing filled the air like a rattlesnake.
From high up in the air where she soared, she saw a wave of death descend on the cliffs, starting at the bottom and working its way up. Griffons at the lowest levels of the nest didn’t even have time to wake up; in fact, many of them were asleep for the evening. They spasmed and coughed uncontrollably, seizing on the ground. Dozens of them, some of them her friends and acquaintances.
Gilda flew as far away from the chemical attack as she could as the planes continued to drop more and more nerve gas bombs. As she flew, her racing mind tried to process what she had just seen as she crossed the ocean towards Equestria to the east.
The next day, Gilda was staying the night at Cloudsdale. Griffons were welcome in Equestria and the Cloud Confederacy so long as they didn’t hunt there, and she sometimes came to visit some of her old friends here that she had made when she had been a flight school exchange student. While in the hotel lobby trying to eat a nutritionally-deficient continental breakfast of pastries and crunchy oat cereal with milk, she had no appetite. She simply swirled the spoon around in the bowl, gazing off into space.
For perhaps the tenth time, her eyes returned to the table to scan that morning’s copy of the Cloudsdale Courier. Every time she looked at it, she expected to snap back to her nest, under her zebra fur blankets, waking from a dream. But this was real.
The headline read, “Fifty Thousand Griffons Dead in Gassing. Griffon Chancellor Surrenders to Zaporizhia, Predation Banned.”
Thousands and thousands of zebras packed the streets of Jalutso, the zebra capital. Dancers wearing grass skirts and golden jewelry frolicked in the streets, as a procession of military vehicles passed by. Zebras waved to the soldiers as the soldiers tossed out candy into the streets, and zebra fillies and colts rushed to the sidewalks to grab it. The sound of music filled the air, as zebras sung traditional call-and-response folk songs. The only time that the crowd was quiet was when the zebra clerics and holy stallions passed by.
Bringing up the rear of the procession was Zaporizhia. He wore a crown of gold studded with rubies and sapphires, and a purple cloak. Unlike Blueblood, he had no protection other than a few bodyguards, instead waving out from the top of his open-air car as it drove along.
“Thank you, my subjects!” he called out. Zebras rushed along after his car, trying to touch his hoof, which was said to have healing powers. But his bodyguards stood in their way.
Finally, the procession came to a stop before the zimbabwe, the zebra capitol building. It was thousands of years old, made of stones that had been chiseled to fit together perfectly without mortar or other bindings. The steps were all made of the same stone, and had been worn down to be as smooth as marble from millions of hoofsteps over generations.
Zaporizhia and his entourage of guards and clerics exited from the vehicle as the crowd gathered to hear him speak. His voice was gravelly and deep, which conveyed comfort when he whispered, and fear when he shouted.
“My dear zebras! Today is a prophetic and gloooooorious day!” he shouted, lengthening his vowels. He held his hoof to the sky.
“Praise be!” a million zebras shouted back in unison.
“Thousands of years ago, the Princesses of Equestria set the griffon menace upon our fair continent, where our people were left helpless as they were preyed upon! Husbands were separated from their wives! Mothers and fathers were separated from their children! Our children had to play insiiiiide so they wouldn’t disappear! All of this to feed their demonic hunger for flesh!”
The crowd booed.
“But the glorious hoof of GOD delivered a prophecy! Thousands of years ago, Zhytomir 4:92 proclaimed, ‘And all of the nations of the world will conspiiiiire against the chosen people, and God will deliver unto them a holy representative who shall reunite the chosen ones under Him! Through Him, the chosen one shall smiiiiite the wicked ones down, where they shall burn forever in the bed of flaaaaaames their own sin has made for them!”
“Praise be!” the crowd called back.
“Today, that prophecy has been fulfilled, and the Griffon Chancellor has bowed dooooown before the might of Zaporizhia, the representative of GOD on earth! Never again shall the chosen ones be feasted upon by griffons!”
“Praise be!”
“But our work is not done! For Zarathisima 7:31 further prophesies, ‘The Chosen One shall bring together the floooock, which is held in slavery and captivity in faraway places, straying from the teachings of God! God’s chosen zebra people shall be united even across vast rivers, oceans, and mountains!’”
“Praise be!”
“The cities of Tall Tale and Vanhoover contain millions of zebras who are held in oppression by the eeeeevil princesses and ponies who first set the griffons upon us thousands of years ago, in their own cowardice! They lock up the zebras for being God’s chosen people, for wearing his chosen stripes, out of their suspicion and distrust! But the prophecy is cleeeear! The army of the Zebra Empire, the chosen army of GOD, shall take Tall Tale and Vanhoover from the cowards and reunite the nation of the chosen people! And now, with their griffon attack dogs defeated, we shall turn the full force of our armies towards Equestria! Our great holy war now has but one front left to win!"
Blueblood’s Bunker, somewhere inside the Canterlot Mountains
“Fancy Pants!” King Blueblood exclaimed, smiling as he walked towards the door to his bunker, extending a hoof towards Fancy Pants, who shook it.
“Yes, the internment is going well, and—”
Blueblood shook his head and smiled. “No need to elaborate, Minister Fancy Pants. I saw the urgent telegram that you sent, and you are quite welcome to stay in my bunker for your safety. What a terrible business, nearly being killed in your own office by that race-traitor Pumpkin Cake.”
Fancy Pants nodded.
“You never did write how you managed to survive the attempt, though.”
“I teleported out the open window before she could kill me,” Fancy Pants lied.
Blueblood chuckled. “Ah. Miss Cake probably assumed that, like Trixie, you were unable to teleport, but it’s a good thing that I taught you how.”
“Yes, thank you,” said Fancy Pants.
Blueblood said, “I shall give you the tour. Now, you’ve seen the meeting room and my office before. Now, I will show you the living quarters.” He walked down the concrete hallway as Fancy Pants followed. There were six doorways to either side.
“All of the rooms are identical. Here is mine,” said Blueblood, stopping at the first door on the right. The room was small and had grey walls, but Blueblood had decorated it the best that he could, with a princess-sized bed, a fancy rug on the floor, and portraits up on the windowless walls, including one of the Canterlot skyline. A tall bookshelf stood with many books, and a jigsaw puzzle and a stack of playing cards sat on a small coffee table in the corner.
“It’s almost as if I’m still up above ground!” Blueblood chuckled. He turned around and exited the room, and Fancy Pants followed.
“All of these rooms are identical to mine, minus the furnishings. Pick whichever one you want,” said Blueblood, motioning to the other eleven doors in the hallway. “I do apologize about the lack of amenities; I have been hoping to get a swimming pool or a gym put in here, soon. This bunker was never designed to be lived in long-term.”
Fancy Pants nodded. “As long as it is magic-proof and intangibility-proof, that is what matters. I can conduct my propaganda work from in here just fine.”
Blueblood smiled. “You should be safe. Forget Pumpkin Cake; not even an alicorn could infiltrate this bunker.”
Fancy Pants nodded as he went to go pick out a room. As Blueblood said, they all were exactly the same, with drab grey walls and no windows. He couldn’t even imagine how Blueblood had been living in here for so long.
He picked the room closest to the conference hall, so that he wouldn’t have to walk as long of a distance. The bed was plain white, and the walls were steel grey. Fancy Pants closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed, retrieving a small vial from inside of his vest. It held about a milliliter of clear, colorless, odorless liquid. It resembled water, but it was deadly.
The vial contained a virus, Drowsilia, called such because it caused its victims to become very drowsy. Its other symptoms almost exactly matched the flu, enough that a doctor who didn’t think to look for Drowsilia wouldn’t be aware that a patient even had it, and would likely mistake the sleepiness as merely the patient’s body trying to rest from a flu. The major difference was Drowsilia’s lethality. It killed 97% of its victims, most of those within five days or sooner. Blueblood’s death was almost certain if he contracted Drowsilia.
Thankfully, Drowsilia wasn’t very contagious, and normally it could only be transmitted through sexual contact or other direct exchange of bodily fluids. Blueblood was single and isolated inside of his bunker, so there was no worry of his sickness sparking a pandemic. When Blueblood died, the medical examiner would believe it to have been from a bad case of the flu. Given Blueblood’s lack of physical activity and general weakness from having been inside a bunker for months, it would be easy to see how he could have died from the flu. If Fancy Pants was suspected, it would only be from being an innocent, asymptomatic carrier of the flu virus.
As he fiddled with the vial in his magic, he examined it closely. Amazing how something so small could be so deadly. It was still early in the afternoon, so he merely needed to wait for dinner and the chance to slip the contents into Blueblood’s drink.
Fancy Pants looked around at the drab, grey walls. He wished that he had brought something to do, or some book to read. Perhaps he could borrow one of Blueblood’s books. He got up off of his bed and walked out the door, crossing the hallway to Blueblood’s room. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Instead, Blueblood was inside, snoring quite loudly, his door locked. He must have been taking a nap.
Sighing, Fancy Pants returned to his bunker. With nothing else to do, he simply stared at the walls. At the ceiling.
All around the incredibly small, cramped room.
It suddenly felt as though the walls were closing in on Fancy Pants, crushing him with their sheer weight. He had been mildly claustrophobic when he was younger, but usually it didn’t bother him anymore in his old age. Taking deep, rhythmic breaths, he tried to stave off the panic attack. It worked momentarily, until a realization closed in on his mind like the walls around him.
If he killed Blueblood, he could have to live in here for the rest of his life.
Sure, Equestria wouldn’t try to kill Fancy Pants since he was “their guy,” but what about lone wolves like Pumpkin Cake, or what about unicorns from the Second Kingdom who might want him dead? After all, if Fancy Pants were in power, he would seek to bring peace between Equestria and the Second Kingdom. He would try to preserve unicorn independence; despite his problems with the current SK leadership and its genocide and war, he still firmly believed in the idea of a unicorn nation.
Nevertheless, as a turncoat, Fancy Pants was almost entirely at the mercy of Agent Sparkler, Princess Twilight, and Princess Luna. If they didn’t like an independent Second Kingdom, they could threaten the new President Fancy Pants to sign away its independence, and they had quite a bit of leverage over him. If he was forced to sign an unfavorable surrender, there could be an assassination attempt on his life, or a military coup, or innumerable other bad outcomes. Even if he signed a peace treaty on favorable terms to the Second Kingdom, there were still a few unicorn extremists out there who believed that the other pony races must be subjugated or exterminated, and they would see any peace as unacceptable.
Agent Sparkler had assured Fancy Pants that Canterlot would still be allowed its independence, though the other cities like Mareicopa and Ponyville would be returned to Equestria. But was that merely a lie that she had told him just to get him to cooperate? Was their romance based off of lies, too? Did Amethyst Star really not care for Fancy Pants at all like she claimed, and the relationship was just a ploy for her to sway him with endorphins to ensure he completed his mission?
Fancy Pants buried his head into his pillow, confused and overwhelmed by everything. A single tear came to his eye, though he did not make any noise. He finally emerged about ten minutes later, gazing up at the walls and ceiling. So crushing, and he could be here for the rest of his life if he killed Blueblood and succeeded him as president. Perhaps he shouldn’t kill him at all, and should abandon the plan.
But the loneliness and guilt are even more crushing than the walls, he realized.
Of course. He remembered why he wanted to kill Blueblood in the first place. He was tired of feeling sick at his stomach, tired of hating himself for the things that Blueblood made him do. He was tired of the fratricidal war between the brotherly pony races of unicorn, earth pony, and pegasi, and tired of Equestrian unicorns and SK unicorns killing one another. He was tired of the disguises, the mask that he had to wear rather than speak up against what he knew what was wrong.
As for Amethyst Star, she seemed genuine in her affection towards him. It was always a risk of romance, that the other pony was using oneself for her own benefit. Perhaps Agent Sparkler was just a typical promiscuous secret agent who slept with every stallion that she found, and used her masterful skills of deception to trick them into thinking there was something there. Or, perhaps there was something more between them. All Fancy Pants knew was that he had not had a love so good in the years since his wife had died. He had had only one-night stands and disappointments. But Sparkler and Fancy Pants had been involved for almost a month now. In between invisible love-making sessions in his office, they had actually talked, and she had told him about herself (at least, as much as he was allowed to know, given her secret line of work). Behind her professional veil of short-tempered sarcasm, there was a sweet, kind-hearted pony who truly cared for others and wanted to stop the war just as much as he did. He chose to trust her. Not just because he wanted to. Because he needed to.
He stood up from his bed, dusting himself off and drying his eyes. A smile crossed his face as he glanced at the vial floating in his magic. He would kill Blueblood for Amethyst Star. For the Second Kingdom. For the unicorn race.
For his own conscience.
King Blueblood and Fancy Pants sat across from one another in his dining room. They were the only two ponies there. They were both rather talkative with each other, since they were longtime friends from before Canterlot was independent. It hurt Fancy Pants slightly that he had to kill his old friend, but he had become a monster. Friends shouldn’t let friends destroy nations. There was only one way to stop Blueblood.
“I say, King Blueblood, is that a spider on the wall behind you?”
He swiveled around, as Fancy Pants quickly floated the open vial over bluebood’s drink, pouring it in.
“I don’t see it… hmm…” Blueblood said as Fancy Pants withdrew the vial, just in time for Blueblood to turn back around.
Fancy Pants shrugged. “Ah, perhaps my old eyes are failing me.”
“I know a good eye doctor in Canterlot, Fancy Pants. He can come right here into the bunker and see you. Though it might be trial and error for a bit, since much of his equipment is in his office.”
The words went through Fancy Pants’ ears without stopping as he simply waited for Blueblood to take another sip.
Finally, he did. Fancy Pants’ heart skipped a beat, and he shuddered slightly.
“What is it? Another spider on the wall?” asked Blueblood jokingly.
Fancy Pants didn’t answer for a few seconds. Finally, he said, “Yes. Just a spider.”
His heart raced. Blueblood had just drank the Drowsilia-laced drink. Sometime in the next week, he would be dead. Or, at least, there was a 97% chance of it.
After dinner, Fancy Pants deliberately dropped a dinner plate and broke it, though he made it look like an accident. He put it in a trashbag and told one of the guards to take it out to the dumpster outside of the bunker. That was his signal to Sparkler, who would search the trash bags that evening, that the plan had gone through without a hitch, and that Blueblood would soon die of the virus.
Or so he hoped.
Fillydelphia, Day One after the poisoning
Pound Cake’s wings strained as he heaved another plain cardboard box through the door to his new office. He set it down next to the others, piled up along the walls that smelled of fresh paint.
“Yeeeah!” Bulky Biceps shouted, setting down the three boxes that he held in his muscular hooves. “Those were the last ones, Pound Cake!”
All around the room, boxes full of papers, books, and office supplies were stacked. Now, Pound could start unpacking all of them.
“I’ll be helping the others move,” said Biceps, and he walked off.
Pound Cake opened up a single box, unlabeled just like the rest, and emptied out its contents: staplers, pens, pencils, tape, highlighters. He placed it all in a pile on his large oak desk, which stood on the far wall, near the office window and potted fern. It wasn’t very neat, but he would take his time with arranging his desk later. Right now, he just wanted to get to the box that had his important papers in it. He reached into the saddlebag on his back and placed one final item on the desk, a shiny bronze nameplate that said, “Pound Cake, Co-chairpony of Equestrians For Action,” and set it in the middle of his desk for everypony to see.
Equestrians For Action was a brand-new group, but made up of old friends. The Cloudsdale Loyalty Committee had had to disband recently, a day after Pound had returned from his trip to Stirrup. The CLC had come under scrutiny from President Lightning Dust for its actions. She took issue with their reunification politics, which threatened the independence of the Cloud Confederacy. There was also a diplomatic rift with the Second Kingdom due to the group’s salting actions. Blueblood hadn’t been willing to start a war with the Confederacy over it. However, he was stern enough with Dust to prompt her to launch a raid of their hotel. She was to have them all arrested and extradited to the SK.
Luckily for the Cloudsdale Loyalty Committee, though, they were already gone. Lightning Dust’s corruption had come back to bite her, and a police officer had alerted them. The CLC members had just an hour to grab all of their things and throw them haphazardly into boxes, making it into Equestrian airspace just in time to miss the raid. The boxes had sat in storage for nearly a week until the group could secure an office and rebrand itself. Fillydelphia was a good locale since it was located at the midpoint of the east coast of Equestria, halfway between Manehattan and Horseshoe Bay.
The group settled on the new, fitting name: “Equestrians For Action,” since it conveyed more of the group’s newly-expanded mission than the “Cloudsdale Loyalty Committee.” After all, unicorns and earth ponies from Equestria had been helping the pegasi on their salting raids for months now. The group had also expanded its political mission far beyond its original, narrow intent of “loyalty;” the now 500 members of the group also desired an end to corruption and greed in Equestria. The group was also more than just a “committee” now.
Pound Cake opened the second box, and smiled as he found what he was looking for. The box held pictures, balls of red yarn, paper, and push pins, all hastily thrown in and jumbled together. Pound emptied out the contents onto the ground, and over the next hour, placed the pictures onto a one-by-five meter corkboard that was hanging on one of the walls. There were dozens of pictures, linked to each other by lines of yarn, held up by pushpins. Paper labels stood at each of the pictures, clarifying the nature of the connections.
At the very top was Twilight Sparkle herself. Down from her, several strings expanded outward. Filthy Rich, Jet Set, and Upper Crust were linked to her due to their inclusion on the Equestrian Economic Council. Aunt and Uncle Orange were linked to Jet Set and Upper Crust. Diamond Tiara was linked to Filthy Rich as his daughter. The head of the Manehattan Police Department was linked to fashionista magnate Rarity due to them having formerly dated. Rarity was linked back to Diamond Tiara due to them both being business partners in Rarity’s jewelry lines. The CEO of Pursuit Bank, Shiny Diamond, was directly linked to nearly all of the businessponies, due to his bank making loans to them.
Many other ponies were on the corkboard, including a senator from Dodge Junction who had been accused of taking bribes from Silver Spoon, head of a silver mining operation in the town that had polluted the local waters. Silver Spoon was connected back to Diamond Tiara due to a longstanding friendship. Known tax cheat and winemaker Berry Punch was linked to the head of the Tall Tale mafia, who was linked to the senator from Tall Tale. There were over 100 ponies on the board and almost 300 connections between them which Pound Cake, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and others in the EFA had uncovered. It resembled a giant spiderweb once he finished putting it up.
The web of lies, deceit, corruption, and greed in Equestria made Pound’s head spin. Such a small number of ponies should never be allowed to have that sort of power over so many others. He had no idea how he could possibly bring these millionaires and billionaires to justice for what they had done to Equestria and its ponies. But he had the support of Equestrians For Action. They had nearly brought down the Second Kingdom to its knees, so perhaps they could bring down the oligarchs in Equestria, too. Applejack and Rainbow Dash were already on their way to confront Twilight Sparkle regarding the Oranges.
“You missed a line, there.”
Pound Cake whirled around as he was putting up the pictures, turning to face the speaker. But he saw nopony. His eyes widened as he zipped towards the door, but it slammed shut. As he tried to open it with his hoof, a magical force pushed back.
“Relax. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already,” said the mare’s voice. “Sit down and let’s talk.”
“Who are you!?” Pound Cake demanded, zipping around the room and swinging with his hoof at the air trying to hit the invisible pony until he found himself suspended in a field of purple magic.
“Take it easy. Gosh, your sister was so much easier to talk to. She just floated there dumbstruck while I said my piece, and then I let her leave unharmed.”
“What do you want?”
“The same thing that you want. And I’m going to tell you how to get it. Now, you want to see the Second Kingdom defeated, yes? With no other options but surrender?”
Pound nodded.
The voice said, “Well, you have done a good job of it, so far. Too good, since now the SK is lashing out in crazy ways like genocide. A cornered opponent is a dangerous opponent, like a rabid dog. That’s why you always leave him with a little ray of hope, a single escape valve, and have that valve lead your opponent right where you want him. I’m sure that Spitfire told you that when she taught you military strategy.”
Pound’s eyes widened. “How do you know...”
“Because I can turn invisible and spy. Come on. I mean, why does it always surprise ponies when I tell them things about them that they think only they know? Invisibility has its perks.”
Pound Cake smirked. “I know what I’d use it for!”
“Of course you do, you’re fifteen. But here in the adult world there’s a little thing called planning, something that you and your sister severely lack. Now, I can see on your corkboard that you’re tackling corruption to try to stop the Oranges from supplying the SK with food. But did you ever stop to think that they can get the food though magic, too?”
Pound shook his head. “Magic can’t create food.”
The voice groaned. “I don’t mean that way. I mean, sneaking across the border and levitating giant grain silos back to the Second Kingdom. It’s October, and most of them are still sitting in the fields in Manesas and Neighbraska.”
“Well, voice, we did think of that,” Pound scoffed. “If that happens, then the regular Equestrian military will stop them.”
“Not if they’re short in numbers in the north, they won’t. Remember that failed assault on Mareicopa? Where do you think those troops came from?”
Pound Cake blinked.
The voice chuckled. “Now you see the problem. The Equestrian army has a vulnerability and Blueblood is about to exploit it. Now is the perfect time, since the zebras just scored a win, and are sending all of their army here. In anticipation, many Equestrian troops are being rotated away from the line of contact near the Flatlands to protect the cities of Tall Tale and Vanhoover.”
“So what do you want me to do?” asked Pound Cake.
“Well, your little ‘Equestrians For Action’ group should make itself useful and go patrol Neighbraska. Tomorrow night, when they launch their first incursion across the border, blow up the grain silos when they try to take them.”
Pound Cake sighed. “You know, I would do that, but… I don’t know. I feel like whatever I do, the Second Kingdom just does something else to lash out. Blueblood is a rabid dog, like you said. We start salting the crops, Blueblood sends assassins against me, so I get security, so he gets food from the Oranges, so I try to expose their corruption, so he starts a genocide, so I send my own sister to stop it. What’s the next hole in my plan?”
“Wow, you can actually feel self-doubt? Color me impressed,” said the invisible mare. “But this time, I can assure you, there will be no more holes.”
“But I can’t do this if I think that he’ll just start killing those ponies before Pumpkin can rescue them. Maybe the only solution is to…” he paused for a moment. “Wait a minute. You can turn invisible. Why haven’t you killed Blueblood yet?”
“There were attempts. Ever hear of the parade bombing?” asked the invisible mare.
“No, just sneak up on him and stab him in the back. It can’t be that hard,” said Pound Cake.
“He has security to stop invisible ponies. Maybe you should invest in that, too, by the way, since I got in here rather easily.”
Pound shook his head. “If Blueblood can’t be killed, then I can’t push him even further into a corner. Not unless there’s a sure-fire plot to kill him and replace him with a pony who would rather surrender than conduct genocide. Is there a plot?”
The mare remained silent. Pound Cake smiled.
“There’s a plot, isn’t there? I knew it!”
“You don’t know anything, except for what I told you to do. Now do it, and tell nopony else of my existence.”
Pound felt the magical grasp on his body ease, and he fell to the floor. At that moment, the door swung open, and the invisible mare teleported out.
Manehattan, Day Two after the poisoning
“We don’t wants Smokey Mountain. We wants Starswirl Peak, which is far better for gemmmsss. Sapphires, topaz, white diamonds, even pink diamonds!”
Alpha-Male Rover, the very top dog of the Diamond Dog pack, smiled and bared his fangs as he rubbed his paws together, his emerald green eyes piercing into the hearts of the three ponies across the table from him. There was Princess Twilight Sparkle, successful Manehattanite fashionista Rarity, and Fluttershy, Secretary of the Wilderness and the overseer of the Equestrian public lands.
Fluttershy wore a beige suit with a green tie, and shook her head, pointing to a map on the table with certain areas highlighted. “But Starswirl Mountain is where the endangered spotted burrowing mountain mole lives. You can’t mine it; you’d be destroying their habitat! And it’s the only mountain in the world where that species of mole lives!”
“It also only mountain in world where pink diamonds found,” Rover scoffed.
Princess Twilight said, “I defer to Fluttershy. We’ve already given you enough of a concession for this military alliance, Alpha Rover. You’re lucky that we’re even considering letting you mine in public lands in the first place, since that is normally illegal. There are plenty of gems in Smokey Mountain.”
Rover held up a paw. “Ah, but not as many gems in Smokey Mountain as in Starswirl Mountain. We dim, but we not stupid, Princess Sparkley. And Smokey Mountain too close to Tall Tale. We would hate for zeebie airstrike to take out our mines, now, wouldn’t we’s? Starswirl Peak much further inland. Much safer, yes.”
Rarity nodded in silent agreement with the Alpha.
Twilight sighed. “Yes, Smokey Mountain is a strategic overlook and vantage point over Tall Tale, and that’s why we’re letting you mine that mountain, so that you have a vested interest in defending the city below. You mine the mountain, set up military defenses, and get some fur in the game. That way you will deny the area to the zebras and fight them when they try to take the mountain. And they will, since without it, they won’t be able to hold the city since they’d be subject to mortar fire from the mountain.”
“We don’t shit where we eat,” said Rover bluntly, making Rarity wince at such language. “Our mining and army keep apart. We mine inland, on Starswirl Peak, safe from zeebies. Then we send doggies to fight in Tall Tale in return. No mixing the two. We hear Zappo’s victory speech against griffons; we know you desperate. We have bargainsies power, not you. You accept our terms. No Starswirl Mountain, no alliance.”
Twilight Sparkle glanced over at Fluttershy, who was merely shaking her head. Fluttershy was already opposed to giving Smokey Mountain to the Diamond Dogs, which didn’t even have any endangered animals living on it. It had been a huge battle to convince her that the interests of the war had to trump the interests of the environment, at least temporarily. But Starswirl Mountain, where the moles lived?
But Twilight desperately needed allies for Tall Tale and Vanhoover to stand any chance against the coming Zebra Empire onslaught that Zaporizhia had boldly proclaimed. The cities were only just barely holding on as it was, but with the griffons defeated and the full force of the Zebra Empire army on its way? With the zebra populations in Tall Tale already rioting, and many sympathetic to the emperor? The west coast didn’t stand a chance without additional reinforcements. The Diamond Dogs were few in number, but their army of three thousand warriors was fierce and courageous, especially when there were gemstones involved.
About a minute passed, and then Twilight Sparkle reluctantly sighed. “Alright, how about you get to mine Starswirl Peak, but only after the end of the war, if Tall Tale remains in Equestrian hooves. That way you will still have an incentive to fight for it.”
Fluttershy shook her head. Rarity smiled, her eyes sparkling.
“I would agree, but how we know you keep your end of deal?” asked Rover, his eyes narrowing. “Equestria break treaties before. Look at buffalo. Ponies take what they wants and toss everyone else aside. If we fight war for Equestria, maybe Equestria won’t let us have Starswirl Peak after all.”
“That was many years ago, and our leadership was different. Luna was on the moon and had nothing to do with it. I wasn’t even born yet,” said Twilight Sparkle. “I understand why you’re hesitant, but we truly regret what our country did to the buffalo, and paid dearly for it when they aligned with Blueblood against us. But you’re correct that we need to offer something in advance to assure our word is good.”
“That is where I come in, Alpha Rover,” said Rarity. She had remained quiet throughout the entire meeting, deferring to Twilight Sparkle and Rover who had dominated most of the conversation. Were it not for her rather dazzling business attire, she wouldn’t have been noticed at the meeting at all.
“Yes, Miss Rarity?” asked Rover, smiling. After the little mining debacle with Rarity many years ago that had thoroughly embarrassed Rover in front of his pack, she was the only pony that he treated with any sort of respect.
“I know the gem-finding spell, and I can improve the efficiency of your mining operation. I’ll want 10% of the gemstones, of course: five percent for me and five for charity. Despite the 10%, you will mine twice as many gems overall if I assist you. Hopefully Fluttershy is pleased enough with my skills, but I can ensure that you won’t dig any mine shafts that come up empty. Only the areas that I know to have gems will be disturbed, and the rest of the mountain will be left intact for the moles.”
“That’s still not good enough. They’re very sensitive creatures.” said Fluttershy. “The noise of the mining could scare them off, and the digging could disturb their holes.”
“Fluttershy, dear, I wasn’t quite finished,” said Rarity. “As I was saying, Alpha Rover, I will offer you my support, and you know that it is in my interests for you to mine that mountain without petty political or environmental squabbles getting in the way.”
“But Miss Rarity, you not Princess Sparkley or Secretary Fluttery,” said Rover. “You may want treaty honored, but you can’t stop ponies from breaking agreement: you a private businessmare, not in government.”
“The lines between business and government are more blurred than ever these days,” said Rarity. “I can ensure that it would be painful for Equestria to break its treaty. If you take out loans in advance from Pursuit Bank to finance the mining operation, they will have an interest in you mining Starswirl Peak to pay them back. By extension, so will the Central Equestrian Bank, which guarantees the solvency of all the banks in Equestria. The CEB would have to pay to prop up Pursuit Bank if you defaulted on such a large loan. I personally know Shiny Diamond, the CEO of Pursuit Bank, and I can vouch for the Diamond Dogs’ loan creditworthiness, and for Twilight Sparkle’s treaty trustworthiness. Pursuit Bank will lend you the money.”
Twilight Sparkle blinked. Rarity had not consulted about this little plan with her before the meeting.
Rarity continued, “Then, when the war looks as though it is about to come to a close, I will draw up some concept art, and we will begin taking advance pink diamond jewelry orders from the nobles, aristocrats, and oligarchs. Ponies like Filthy Rich and Diamond Tiara, the Oranges, the Rockefillies. It will be the most dazzling jewelry the world has ever seen. How upset do you think they would be to find that the rare gemstone orders wouldn’t be fulfilled, and could never be fulfilled without mining Starswirl Peak?”
Rover smiled. “They go more crazy for gems than Diamond Dogs do!”
Rarity nodded. “Exactly. Never underestimate the power of the nobles.”
Twilight Sparkle glanced down at the table. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was true: she was beholden to the rich of Equestria. For years, she had always wondered why Princess Celestia held those galas and fancy events in Canterlot, and why she cozied up to the nobles and wealthy businessponies. Now that she was in Celestia’s horseshoes, she knew.
“That make sense,” said Rover. “Okay, we get loan and mine mountain after war if we win, and Miss Rarity help us find pink diamonds. We likes this deal. And no backsies, or Equestria gets the hurtsies from the nobles and the banks!”
“Of course,” said Rarity, holding up a hoof, “such discussion is merely hypothetical, since I can assure you that Princess Sparkle has no intention of reneging on this treaty. Equestria learned its lesson from the buffalo.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “Starswirl Peak mining rights after the war, in exchange for your full and total support in the war against the zebras in Tall Tale. No mining rights if we lose the city of Tall Tale to the Zebra Empire.”
“And you will still have to do remediation afterwards, to restore Starswirl Mountain to pristine condition,” said Fluttershy. “Environmental law is very clear. You will pay fines if even a single mole is killed or driven from its habitat.”
“Rest assured that this will be as eco-friendly as possible, Secretary Fluttershy,” said Rarity. “With my gem detection, only areas that actually have gems will be disturbed. No more needlessly mining large areas to come up empty-hoofed… er, empty-pawed. Why waste the money on dry holes? What’s good for profit is good for the environment, too.”
In about an hour, the treaty was drawn up, and both Alpha Rover and Princess Twilight signed it. Rover smiled widely as he shook Twilight Sparkle’s hoof, flashing his yellow canines.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” he said.
“Likewise,” said Twilight.
Rarity, Fluttershy, and Twilight Sparkle all sat in the dining room of the capitol building, eating a finely-prepared salad. Rarity’s horn glowed as she took dainty bites. Fluttershy’s salad was mostly untouched.
“My newest line of dresses absolutely swept the judges away at this year’s fashion show,” said Rarity in-between bites. “I estimate I’ll sell twenty million bits worth.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of money!” Twilight exclaimed.
Rarity nodded. “I am living out my dream of being a world-renowned fashionista, and give half of what I make to charity! Though the war may be raging, I am doing my best to make Equestria a more fabulous place to live regardless.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “Ponies like you give me hope for the future, Rarity. Every time I have to talk to Blueblood, I just think of you and all the good things the Rarity Charity Foundation does.”
Rarity glanced over at Fluttershy. “Fluttershy, darling, you haven’t even touched your salad. Is something the matter?” she asked.
Fluttershy remained silent, merely grunting.
“Oh gosh, it’s not the salad, is it? I told my chef to make it how you liked it, but he’s getting old and he sometimes gets orders wrong,” said Twilight Sparkle.
“The salad’s fine,” Fluttershy muttered.
Rarity leaned in towards Twilight Sparkle and whispered, “I think it may be the moles, Twilight.”
Fluttershy gazed up from her salad, her brow furrowed. “Well finally one of you mentions it. I guess I’m the only pony here who’s bothered by the destruction of a species just so that some greedy oligarchs can enjoy a diamond necklace because ooh, it’s pink and ooh, it’s pretty. Well the moles are pretty, too!”
“Yes, their spotted pelts are splendid for scarves,” said Rarity rather obliviously, as Fluttershy bared her teeth. Rarity continued, “I’m just as concerned as you are with ensuring there are spotted moles around for generations, Fluttershy. I can assure you that they will not go extinct, even with the mining.”
“That gem-finding spell is really accurate; I’ve used it myself,” said Twilight. “Not a single bit of that mountain will be disturbed if it doesn’t contain gems.”
“None of it should be disturbed at all! You may only want the mountain and the gems, but these moles need the mountain. It’s public land that Princess Celestia set aside centuries ago so that future generations could enjoy unspoiled wilderness! Mining it at all sets a terrible precedent, no matter how careful you are, Rarity. Ponies in the future might not be as careful.”
Twilight said, “There’s a war on, Fluttershy, and without the war, I would stick to Princess Celestia’s decree about the public land 100%,” said Twilight. “But we’re under attack by zebras who will kill thousands of ponies—ponies, not moles—if we don’t stop their invasion. To do that, we need allies. The Diamond Dogs are good fighters. I had to make an exception.”
“Fluttershy, do you seriously care more about the lives of a few hundred endangered moles than a few million endangered ponies and zebras?” asked Rarity.
Fluttershy opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Twilight Sparkle.
The double-doors opened, and in stepped Applejack and Rainbow Dash.
All tension immediately vanished from the room, even from Fluttershy’s face, as the three seated ponies got up to greet their old friends.
“Rainbow Dash! Applejack! It has been far too long!” Rarity exclaimed, giving them both giant hugs.
“Fluttershy, I ain’t seen you in ages!” Applejack exclaimed.
Twilight Sparkle smiled as she greeted her friends. “Wow, four of my best friends from Ponyville, together in the same room. The only thing that would make this better would be—”
“SURPRISE!!!”
The five ponies jolted as Pinkie Pie burst through the door.
“Pinkie? I thought you were in Whinnsylvania with your folks!” Applejack exclaimed.
“I was, but then my mouth got super dry, which was my Pinkie sense telling me that there’s a reunion coming up! I just followed the trail to Manehattan until my mouth was as dry as a desert!”
“Oh… that’s why you were always drinkin’ so much at my family reunions!” Applejack chuckled.
“That reminds me!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Do you have any water, Twilight?”
Twilight smiled. “Water, cider, milk: all that you can drink. Let’s all sit down and you can join us for dinner.”
“...And then he said, ‘that’s not a mule, that’s a donkey!’”
Everypony laughed at Pinkie Pie’s silly anecdote. They had finished up a three-course meal that Twilight’s chef had prepared, and were just getting done with dessert.
Rainbow Dash was busy licking her ice cream bowl clean. She turned towards Applejack, who leaned back in her chair. Then, she turned towards Twilight.
“Twilight, Applejack and I need to talk to you about something,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Okay, what is it?” asked Twilight.
Applejack blinked. She hadn’t expected for her and Rainbow Dash to break the news to Twilight Sparkle with other ponies around. Sure, they were all the best of friends, but that was many years ago, and it didn’t concern them regardless.
“In private, in the other room,” said Applejack.
Twilight’s eyebrow raised, but she excused herself from dinner as she, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash walked into the lounge room adjacent, leaving Rarity, Pinkie, and Fluttershy by themselves.
Twilight Sparkle was anxious, her heart beating quickly. What news did Applejack and Rainbow Dash bring? Judging by the looks on their faces, it was serious. Her other three friends were talking and laughing in the other room, but the three of them in the longue were tense as they closed the door to block out the noise.
“Have a seat,” said Twilight. They took seats on the couches. “What seems to be the matter?”
Rainbow Dash said, “Twilight, you know that I’ve been working with Pound Cake on salting the Second Kingdom’s fields, us and the pegasi from the Cloudsdale loyalists.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “I appreciate your efforts to help take down the Second Kingdom, though I fear it may have backfired. They’ve rounded up tens of thousands of earth ponies and pegasi at a stadium in Mareicopa. I am actually supposed to discuss this with Blueblood this evening when I speak to him.”
“We know about the internment,” said Applejack. “We found out through Pound Cake.”
“We would never have done this in the first place if we thought it was putting civilians in danger,” said Rainbow Dash, her face held low as she blanched in shame. “How could we have known?”
Twilight Sparkle shook her head, putting her hoof on Rainbow Dash’s shoulder. “You couldn’t have known. You were doing the best with the knowledge you had at the time. I can’t fault you for that. Blame Blueblood. When he felt backed into a corner, he lashed out in a way that nopony thought that he would, in a way that is a war crime. But you and the Cloudsdale loyalists are true patriots to the Equestrian cause no matter what he does.”
Applejack said, “Thanks, Twi. But there’s some mighty powerful ponies in Equestria who ain’t patriots, who’re just in it for their wallets, who we wanted to warn you about.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “Of course. I’ve been keeping a close eye on the oligarchs and businessponies. Why do you think that I run the Equestrian Economic Council? Its purpose is two-fold: a legitimate effort to help the economy and the war effort, but also a way to keep an eye on the business magnates who might be more concerned about the former than the latter. Keep your friends close, but your enemies and rivals closer. That was something about leadership that Princess Celestia taught me before she passed.
“I only wish she had taught me more, because sometimes I feel like a ship without a sail. I wasn’t supposed to participate in true leadership until my fifties, and even that was supposed to be limited. But her death thrust me onto the throne early. The Second Kingdom seceded and war broke out. Luna helps me a lot, and is a great speaker and orator when she wants to be, and she’s a hard worker and raises both the sun and moon herself so I won’t have to. But after a thousand years gone, she’s still learning almost as much about modern politics as I am.”
“I hate to bring you bad news, Twi, but I’m afraid that ‘keep your enemies closer’ coulda backfired on you,” said Applejack.
“Months ago, back when Pound was in the middle of Operation Sonic Saltshaker, a pony tried to kill him at the Oranges’ house,” said Rainbow Dash. “We gave him some extra security, and put our strongest guy on the job. Still, Pound was really convinced there was a plot on his life. Since he was the only other pony who can do a sonic rainboom, the crux of our entire plan, we all took him seriously.”
“I told Pound Cake I’d look into it further, and I did,” said Applejack. “After all, the Oranges are my aunt and uncle, and my employers to boot. I hoped I wouldn’t find much, but I swore that if I did, I’d be honest about it. I ain’t gonna let them off easy just because they’re family, and I can always find another orchard management job. I did some snoopin’ around their penthouse, and some eavesdroppin’ on their conversations. What I found shocked me. I didn’t tell nopony else but Rainbow Dash. Pound Cake only knows that I have my suspicions, nothin’ concrete or incriminatin’.”
“He’s a bit too young and rambunctious, like I was when I was his age,” said Rainbow Dash. “We didn’t want him knowing all of the details, because he might have rushed off to act without us.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “You made the right call. His ultimatum in that newspaper kind of shows that he’s a bit too eager to confrontation before planning.”
“He wanted to lead a giant anti-corruption protest, a huge march in Manehattan, but we told him that he shouldn’t… yet. We told him that we knew you personally and we would take the evidence straight to you before marching in the streets, to give you one last chance to make it right,” said Rainbow Dash.
Twilight Sparkle raised an eyebrow. Was Rainbow Dash actually threatening her with a protest on her administration if she didn’t take appropriate action? She decided she would let the question slide until she saw the evidence.
“What is the evidence?” asked Twilight Sparkle.
Applejack explained, “My Aunt and Uncle Orange, along with my cousin Peachy Pitt, who is now the Second Kingdom’s agriculture minister, are runnin’ a mechanized farming operation in the Second Kingdom. They want it to succeed so that they’ll make money. So Pound Cake saltin’ their crops was a thorn in their side. They planned his assassination, but it failed and he still took out all the crops. So now, they’re buyin’ up planes from Jet Set and Upper Crust, to run food to the Second Kingdom at huge markups. I recorded the whole conversation on tape.”
Twilight Sparkle blinked several times.
“Oh, it gets worse than that, Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash, narrowing her eyes. “You know the poison gas attacks against the griffons? Well, the zebras used state-of-the-art warplanes from none other than JSUC munitions to drop the canisters. It’s the newest generation, fast and armored ones that the griffons couldn’t shoot down so easy. Just to confirm, Applejack had me fly over to Zebrica and snap some pictures of their planes up close.”
Rainbow Dash dropped the photographs on the desk. There was no mistaking the planes. Only the JSUC factory produced those models.
“They wanna keep the war goin’ forever so they can keep sellin’ weapons to Equestria,” said Applejack. “If there were ever peace, their profits would suffer. And Jet Set and Upper Crust are in cahoots with the Oranges and Peachy to make sure the war never ends.”
Twilight Sparkle felt the walls closing in. For years, she had known Jet Set and Upper Crust; they had been on her economic council, and JSUC was the largest single supplier of weaponry to the Equestrian army. How could they stab her in the back like this, and how could Twilight have not seen through their lies? Rainbow Dash and Applejack sat in silence, both with stern looks on their faces as Twilight practically squirmed in her chair.
She spoke after some time. “This is absolutely terrible news. Weapons suppliers to Equestria are supposed to sell to our country only. I will give over this evidence to the attorney general of Equestria and have him press treason charges. I will order my most trusted RISK agents to follow all major shipments from the JSUC factory to their destinations to ensure this won’t happen again. But…”
She stopped for a moment. “...JSUC Munitions is the largest supplier of weapons to Equestria. The zebras are about to invade full force thanks to their treason, but we still need all of the weapons that we can get. I can’t just cancel our weapons contracts with JSUC, or we’ll be defenseless as soon as our current supplies run out.”
Applejack and Rainbow Dash nodded.
“Nopony’s asking you to put our troops at risk,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Just press charges against Jet Set and Upper Crust,” said Applejack. “They’ll sell their stock in the company to the minority shareholders and you can keep your weapons contracts.”
“It isn’t that simple,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Who knows how many minority shareholders are involved in this conspiracy, too? And honestly, how can I blame them? War is good business for a weapons company no matter who is running it. It’s an inherent conflict of interest that I don’t think jailing Jet Set and Upper Crust can solve.”
“Then you should nationalize the weapons industry,” said Rainbow Dash. “Seize their factories and have loyal patriots in the government run it instead of greedy private businessponies. That way, you can make sure the weapons don’t fall into Zebra or SK hooves. Take the profit out of war. And nationalize the orchards while you’re at it, since they’re in on this conspiracy, too.”
“Rainbow Dash!” Applejack chided. “I’ve already had this talk with you before. No nationalizin’ nothin’. Not the weapons plants, not the orchards, not nothin’. I ain’t no government employee. We have a free economy, and that’s how we’ll beat the Second Kingdom. We’ll police business corruption through the courts and through our watchful eyes, not by throwin’ the baby out with the bathwater and makin’ it all a branch of the government which, by the way, is just as corrupt. Look at the police in Manehattan for a good example.”
“I couldn’t just nationalize an entire industry by myself, regardless,” said Twilight Sparke. “I’m not a dictator. Such action would require a vote in parliament.”
“Have the vote,” said Rainbow Dash. “Equestrians For Action will be lobbying for it to pass.”
“Then I’ll be quittin’ the EFA and lobbyin’ against it,” said Applejack. “There ain’t an excuse for seizin’ private property. You go all Hollow Shades on the orchards or the factories? You ain’t heard the last from ponies like me.”
“That’s what the parliamentary process is for: debate,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Thank you for bringing this corruption to my attention, Applejack and Rainbow Dash. I can assure you that Jet Set, Upper Crust, and the Oranges will be dealt with as swiftly and justly as possible. Though the parliament can be rather slow to pass new laws, so the question of nationalization will have to wait.”
Rainbow Dash and Applejack nodded, and Twilight Sparkle shook their hooves. They exited the room and joined the others in their after-dinner conversation as if nothing had happened. The night passed with festivity and merriment.
Rainbow Dash was outside of the capitol building, about to take off into the air, when she saw Fluttershy hovering over her. She flew up to meet her friend. Fluttershy nervously glanced around, ensuring nopony was listening.
“I overheard your conversation,” said Fluttershy. “You forgot how good my hearing was.”
“Oh,” said Rainbow Dash, blushing. “Yeah, we kind of got into it there. But I think that Twilight is really committed to tackling corruption.”
Fluttershy shook her head. “No, Rainbow. She isn’t. Don’t be fooled by her; she’s changed since Ponyville. She ignores the law when it’s convenient. Let me explain.”
Mareicopa, Day Two, Evening
Lights of all colors of the rainbow shone across the walls like a kaleidoscope. Loud beats thumped the floor and shook ponies to the bone. Smoke filled the air from fog machines, illuminated by lasers. All around, glowsticks floated in magical grasps, as hundreds of ponies hooted and hollered. Lots of unicorns teleported all around, pegasi hovered in the air and whirled in circles, and earth ponies stomped the ground in unison with the beat, practically causing an earthquake. This was Club Copa, and Pumpkin Cake didn’t like it one single bit. It was way too hectic, with all the light and sound.
“Yeah Mareicopa! Let’s drop the bass!”
The DJ, a white-coated, neon-blue maned-mare, stood up on stage, mixing two turntables as the crowd cheered. Pumpkin Cake walked over to the steps leading up to the stage, but was stopped by a black-shirted earth bouncer who held up his hoof.
“No bothering DJ Pon3 when she’s playing,” said the bouncer gruffly.
Pumpkin Cake shook her head. “This is urgent, though. There’s something that she has to know.”
“Then tell her after the show like everypony else. It’s over in a few hours,” he said.
Pumpkin Cake sighed and turned towards the door. She would just wait for DJ Pon3 outside.
A few hours later, a voice inside shouted, “Alright, that does it for tonight! Thanks for coming to Club Copa, everypony!”
Pumpkin walked towards the door as a stream of ponies started to pour out, but a bouncer, this one a pegasus, held up his hoof.
“Sorry, Club Copa is closed,” he said.
“But I need to speak to DJ—”
“Come back tomorrow when she does her show; you can speak to her then,” he said flatly.
Pumpkin groaned, rolling her eyes. “But I tried that this evening, and the other bouncer said no! I have to tell her something urgent.”
“Then tell her tomorrow,” said the bouncer.
Pumpkin Cake teleported right past the bouncer, into the club, just as the last patron and most of the club employees had filed out the doors.
“Vinyl Scratch, I have something to say," said Pumpkin Cake. The DJ glanced up from her turntables, which she was just unplugging from the wall. She and Pumpkin were the only two left on the dance floor.
“Yo, what’s up?” asked Vinyl Scratch. As her name implied, she had a rather scratchy voice.
“There she is! Throw her out!”
Pumpkin turned around just as the two bouncers were galloping towards her. The earth pony bouncer grabbed Pumpkin as the pegasus stood by, but then Vinyl Scratch raised a hoof.
“Knock it off, dudes; she’s a fan. Lighten up. Jeez, I hire you guys to do security, not be fascists. What did you want to tell me, um…”
“Red Velvet,” said Pumpkin Cake, as the bouncer let her go. “And can I trust your bouncers?”
“Oh yeah, they’re cool,” said Vinyl, smiling as she removed her DJ goggles, revealing her burgundy eyes. “They’re a bit rough sometimes, but that’s only because I’ve had some creeps try to hassle me.”
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Pumpkin Cake. “You’re in danger. The Second Kingdom police could arrest you, or worse.”
Vinyl scrunched her nose up, thinking for a second. Then, she said, “Oh, you mean for all the drugs my fans use? Yeah, we have an ‘understanding’ with the police about that. We have to pay a few bribes, but as long as it doesn’t leave the doors of this club, they’re cool about it.”
Pumpkin shook her head. “Not for drugs. For treason. Your name is on a list.”
Vinyl Scratch blinked. “Treason? Why, is it because of my raps? I mean, like, I usually keep the political lyrics on the down low. Just generic lines about ‘freedom’ and ‘liberty’ and stuff, which could apply to anything.”
Pumpkin Cake shrugged. “You’re on a list of partisans and traitors that Blueblood plans on killing. I don’t know why, just that you’re on it.”
Vinyl Scratch chuckled as she lit a cigarette. “I think you’re trippin’. I’m not in danger. And how would you even know, Red Velvet?”
Pumpkin Cake glanced at the two bouncers, who were standing about three meters away from her and Vinyl. Far away enough.
“Because, I’m not really Red Velvet,” said Pumpkin, as her horn lit up and her mane and coat color changed back to normal.
“I’m Pumpkin Cake, the fugitive. I got the list from propaganda minister Fancy Pants’ office.”
Vinyl Scratch’s jaw dropped, and the cigarette fell out. Her bouncers merely stood in place. Pumpkin didn’t quite know what reaction to expect from the DJ. Anything from fear, to revulsion, to doubt.
But she didn’t expect Vinyl Scratch to throw up her hooves, grin wildly, and shout, “Kick ass!” which was exactly what she did. Pumpkin Cake giggled at this bizarre reaction.
“Seriously, yo, that’s so awesome!” Vinyl Scratch proclaimed, getting down from the stage as she walked over and shook Pumpkin Cake’s hoof. “You and that Pound dude, right? You both single-hoofedly stopped an invasion at Appleloosa!”
Pumpkin blushed. “Well, they did still end up capturing the—”
“And then you killed Trixie! That was so cool. I mean, there was a SK coverup or whatever, but everypony knows it was you. You’re like, my hero. I’m thirty-five years old, and I still look up to you for fighting the power.”
“Well, thanks,” said Pumpkin Cake. She glanced back at the two bouncers, who stood in place. “And I’m guessing that they’re okay with me, too?”
Vinyl Scratch nodded. “I trust them more than anypony. They’ve been my bouncers since back when I played at Applewood Wubs.”
Pumpkin raised an eyebrow. “Applewood? Isn’t that in…”
“Equestria? Yeah, I left to come to the Second Kingdom.”
Pumpkin chuckled. “Why would you want to move to the Second Kingdom? I mean, besides magic-learning tourism.”
Vinyl Scratch smiled. “The Second Kingdom has its perks. It’s the best place for having raves, by far.”
"Why?”
“Copyright laws, for one. The SK doesn’t care what songs I mix at my shows, and I don’t have to pay a bunch of royalties to the original artists. In Equestria though, even the happy birthday song is copyrighted for crying out loud!”
Pumpkin thought back to a birthday dinner that she and Pound had back in Appleloosa, in which the waitresses sang a made-up song to get around that law.
“That’s not the biggest perk, though. The best thing about the Second Kingdom? One word: magic,” said Vinyl Scratch, smiling and waving her hoof through the air as she said the word. “All types of magic are allowed in the Second Kingdom, and they really lift the roof off of raves. But back in Equestria, those spells were banned because they were ‘too dangerous.’”
She put up her hooves in air quotes as she spat out the words ‘too dangerous’ like a rotten egg.
Pumpkin tilted her head sideways. “I study magic, but I’ve never heard of these rave spells.”
“They’re not, like, only used for raves; they just come in handy to enhance the rave experience, like drugs. A spell like WINI, that’s a good one, yo. Loads of fans are under that spell when they come here, so they can enjoy the rave more.”
“Whinny? Like you do when you’re excited?” asked Pumpkin Cake.
“Not whinny, but W-I-N-I. It stands for the Want-It, Need-It spell. But yeah, it does make you really excited. It’s super illegal in Equestria but totally okay in the Second Kingdom.”
Pumpkin said, "But that’s a mind control spell. Perverts use it to lure children into vans. Psychopaths use it to commit mass murder.”
Vinyl shook her head. “No, no, no. We don’t do sketch stuff like that with WINI. We only cast it on ourselves.”
“So that other ponies will want you?” asked Pumpkin, raising an eyebrow.
“You’d think so, but as long as you cast it right, that’s not what happens,” said Vinyl. “It doesn’t affect other ponies around you, but instead, it makes you yourself want everything. Well, maybe ‘want’ isn’t the right word. It makes you love everything. Everything. Like, you’ll be drinking a smoothie, and it’s the best smoothie you’ve ever had in your life. Or you’ll be rolling around in the grass, just loving how it feels on your skin, or just gazing up at the clouds, admiring the beauty. It makes you appreciate the little stuff that you usually take for granted, you know? It’s like the whole universe is giving you a hug for an hour.”
Pumpkin said, “And here I thought that it was an evil spell that only bad ponies used.”
Vinyl Scratch chuckled. “That’s what the princesses thought, too, since they banned that spell years ago just ‘cause King Sombra used it when he took over the Crystal Empire. But shouldn’t a pony be able to use it, I mean, as long as they don’t use it to control other ponies? Isn’t that our right?”
Pumpkin nodded.
Vinyl Scratch continued, “Other good spells for raves are shape-changing spells. They’re the most psychedelic spells ever. Imagine being a bumblebee, and seeing the rave lights in ultraviolet. Imagine being a bat, and hearing the rave beats in ultrasonic. It’s ultra-awesome!”
“But shape-changing spells are legal in Equestria,” said Pumpkin.
Vinyl Scratch shook her head. “Not at raves they aren’t. Too much liability. I mean, what if somepony steps on one of those bees or bats in the dark, or swats it away thinking that it’s a real critter instead of just a transformed pony? They’d die and I’d get sued for running a dangerous rave. But in the Second Kingdom, it’s all on the individual pony to stay safe.”
“Especially if you’re a pegasus or earth pony, since they’ll throw you into a stadium,” Pumpkin quipped.
Vinyl Scratch sighed. “Yeah, that’s a bad problem. And I don’t like how they treat gays, either. They want all the unicorns to ‘reproduce for the master race’ or whatever, so they shut down all the gay bars in town and arrested everypony. They shut down the abortion clinics and banned birth control, too. The Second Kingdom has its flaws, and I wish that there was even just one place on the planet that was, like, cool with everything, you know: a utopia where everything goes.”
Pumpkin nodded.
Vinyl shrugged. “But there’s no such place. What can you do, right?”
“Kick them out and fight back. That’s what I’ve been doing,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“That’s what I tried, too,” said Vinyl Scratch. “About a month ago, I went to a secret meeting for new volunteers of the Mareicopa partisans, after one of my fans told me about it. It was seven of us in a run-down warehouse. The mare who organized it asked us a bunch of questions. Like, were we willing to kill, to die, to be tortured before giving up our comrades. I said yes to it all. I mean, like, I didn’t want to do all that stuff, but I would if I had to, to kick out the fascists who were rounding up earth ponies and pegasi.”
Pumpkin nodded. “I kinda got roped into the fight, myself.”
Vinyl Scratch continued, “But then she asked us if we had any reservations about Equestria. I told her I thought they should repeal their magic laws, that the Second Kingdom was awful but that was something that they got right, you know? The mare didn’t say anything at first, but then after the meeting she took me aside and told me never to come back, that I wasn’t welcome in the partisans. I told her there must’ve been some mistake, but she just yelled at me to get out. And I never went to another meeting, but I guess from that one meeting, I got shafted.”
“That mare might have turned you in,” said Pumpkin Cake.
Vinyl Scratch sighed. “Yeah, and I couldn’t even see her, because she was invisible the whole time.”
Pumpkin said, “What a coincidence. After I got the list, I was attacked by an invisible mare. I only heard her voice.”
“Huh. How did she sound?” asked Vinyl Scratch. Her horn lit up as she spoke, and her voice changed exactly to mimic the invisible mare. “Kind of a high-pitched voice like this?”
Pumpkin blinked. “How did you do that?”
“I’m a DJ; sounds are my special talent,” said Vinyl Scratch, still sounding like the invisible mare had.
“Yes, she sounded exactly like that,” said Pumpkin Cake. “I’d never forget that voice.”
“Woah,” said Vinyl Scratch, taking a step back as her voice returned to normal. “What was she doing in there?”
Pumpkin briefly related the story of her failed assassination attempt of Fancy Pants.
“So Fancy is gettin’ frisky with a partisan leader,” said Vinyl Scratch, smirking as she exhaled smoke from her cigarette. “That means either invisi-mare isn’t a real partisan, and that whole meeting was just a sting to bust me and the others…”
Pumpkin finished Vinyl’s thought, “...Or she is a real partisan, and Fancy Pants is working with her and Equestria, making him a traitor to the Second Kingdom, just like he thought I was calling him.”
“But if invisi-mare really is a partisan leader, though, that means Equestria sold me out,” said Vinyl Scratch.
“It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve done something like that,” Pumpkin scoffed. “It makes sense, though: find ponies in Copa who disagree with Equestria, have Fancy Pants name them as partisans, and have the Second Kingdom police do the dirty work for Equestria before they retake the city.”
“This is getting kooky, though,” said Vinyl Scratch, stubbing out her cigarette butt.
“Yeah, it’s just a conspiracy theory; Equestria probably had nothing to do with it,” Pumpkin admitted. “It was most likely an SK sting to arrest partisans.”
“Oh, about that,” said Vinyl Scratch. “When will they nab me? I gotta bail before then.”
Pumpkin shrugged. “No idea. The list doesn’t say. Could be next month, could be tomorrow. I’d disappear if I were you.”
Vinyl Scratch sighed. “I don’t really know where I’d stay, though. I mean, I could crash at my house, or in the back room here at Club Copa, but that’s the first place they’d look. And I don’t want to hide out in Equestria in case your conspiracy theory is really true.”
Pumpkin thought for a moment. On the list of partisans, she had expected to find experienced fighters and dissidents who had a plan of where to hide when they were in danger of being arrested. But here was Vinyl Scratch, and she had only ever been to one partisan meeting and didn’t even have a plan.
“Well…” Pumpkin started, the words cautiously venturing from her mouth. “I do have this house here in Copa… it has a few extra rooms… I guess you could stay with me for a little.”
Vinyl Scratch’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s awesome! Hey Reynaldo, Juan, pack up our things; we’re staying at Pumpkin Cake’s!”
Before Pumpkin could protest the addition of the new ponies to her offer, Vinyl Scratch had already started helping the bouncers box up amps, turntables, and other musical equipment. Pumpkin sighed silently. She had only spoken to one pony whose name was on the partisan list, and already she had three ponies who were going to be staying in her house for who knew how long.
For Pumpkin, that meant less space and less privacy. And then what would they do about food? Food was expensive in Mareicopa, so hopefully these ponies could pitch in for her grocery budget. It all seemed so daunting. But she realized that she had to have friends, and she had to have help with her mission. If this was the only way of getting friends to help her, so be it.
“One thing, though,” said Pumpkin Cake, and the ponies glanced up from their packing. “In return for staying at my house, you help me fight the Second Kingdom. I can’t do it all by myself.”
Vinyl Scratch laughed. “Oh, are you kidding? I was planning on doing that already. That’s not much of a trade.”
Pumpkin shrugged. “Something else, then.”
Vinyl smiled. “Okay. How about in return for staying at your house, I teach you a few rave spells?”
The four ponies appeared in a flash inside of the foyer of Trixie’s house, and Pumpkin collapsed on the floor, her head spinning. She had never teleported three other ponies with her before; even two other ponies was pushing it. It was exhausting, but necessary, because she couldn’t let the neighbors see ponies coming and going to Trixie’s house, since Trixie was supposed to be dead. In fact, Pumpkin was surprised that the bank hadn’t come to foreclose on the house yet. Perhaps the mortgage had been fully paid off.
“Hey, where’s all of our stuff?” Juan, the earth pony bouncer, demanded. “It should have come along with us.”
“Dude, chill. Take it easy on poor Pumpkin. She just brought all four of us here at once. One of you can sneak back to Club Copa and get our stuff later,” said Vinyl Scratch.
“The important thing is that Vinyl is here safe,” said Reynaldo, the pegasus bouncer.
After a few moments, Pumpkin got up off the floor and gave the ponies a brief tour. The bouncers could both sleep in the master bedroom, and Vinyl could crash on the couch in the living room, while Pumpkin would continue to stay in the guest bedroom. The four ponies went to the living room to discuss their plans.
“Hey, can we smoke in here?” asked Vinyl, who had already lit a cigarette anyway before she asked.
“You and those cigarettes,” Juan scoffed.
"Shut up, Juan! What, are you Blueblood or something?” asked Vinyl.
“Let’s get back on topic. Short-term plans like where to get food and weapons, how to stay under the radar while we’re hiding out at this house, and long-term plans like how to free the earth ponies and pegasi,” said Reynaldo.
Pumpkin Cake relayed what she had seen at the internment camps, including the security, and the small number of guns that she had. Both Reynaldo and Juan had fired guns before; Vinyl had not. However, they all agreed that it would take more than the four of them to liberate thousands of earth ponies and pegasi, let alone the city of Mareicopa, and Pumpkin would do well to seek out more of the partisans on Fancy Pants’ list.
She showed Vinyl the list, and Vinyl pointed out a few of the names that she knew from Club Copa as her fans and club patrons. To take some of the burden off of Pumpkin Cake, Vinyl pledged to alert these ponies herself, so long as Pumpkin made her a disguise using the color-change spell so that she could walk around the city undetected. Pumpkin agreed, eager to have some help to warn the partisans of their impending arrest. However, she put her hoof down and insisted that her house had no more room, and they would have to secure their own living arrangements. Vinyl assured Pumpkin that, not only would these ponies find their own places to stay, they would also be able to help her liberate the earth ponies and pegasi from Chupacabra Stadium.
By the time their conversation was over, it was already well past midnight, and they were all eager to go to bed. Except Vinyl, who was a night owl.
Pumpkin was about to cast the sleep spell and fall asleep, but there was a knock at her bedroom door.
“Who is it?”
“Yo, it’s me.”
“There’s a dresser blocking the door. Hold on a second.”
Pumpkin’s horn glowed as the door and dresser turned intangible.
“Now just walk through.”
Vinyl emerged into the room from the dresser, gazing back at it.
“Woah. Trippy,” she said, placing her hoof on the dresser, now solid once more.
“What do you need?” asked Pumpkin.
Vinyl glanced over towards Pumpkin and smiled. “Oh, well didn’t you want to learn some of those rave spells?”
Pumpkin raised an eyebrow. “Now? At two in the morning?”
“Well, yeah, why not?” asked Vinyl, shrugging.
Pumpkin sighed. She normally went to bed at promptly eleven o’clock every evening. But with her new housemate, her schedule would probably be out of whack. Particularly a new housemate like Vinyl who didn’t seem to take “no” for an answer. Though then again, it wasn’t every day—or night—that she got to learn forbidden magic. Perhaps she could make an exception.
“Okay, teach me.”
Vinyl nodded and then proceeded to give Pumpkin Cake instructions on how to cast the want-it, need-it spell. She wasn’t the best teacher, but Pumpkin was a fast learner, and in between about two dozen “likes” and “ums” and “you knows,” she gathered the basic gist of it.
Apparently, just like teleportation, the want-it, need-it spell was easiest to cast on oneself and harder to cast on another pony, getting harder as more were added. Only the highest level unicorns could use it for mass mind control like the infamous incident with Twilight Sparkle’s enchanted doll in Ponyville. When Pumpkin was a filly, Mr. and Mrs. Cake had noticed her magical aptitude, so told her the Smarty Pants doll story as a cautionary parable against experimenting with magic without understanding it.
Had Twilight been any other pony but Celestia’s own student, she would have ended up in prison for years for violating the magic control laws and free will of dozens of ponies. It was yet another reason that Pumpkin disliked Twilight. Not only was she willing to mess with other ponies’ heads just so she wouldn’t be tardy, but then she was somehow above the law and was never punished! It was the height of hypocrisy and weakness of character. Why Princess Celestia had made such a mentally-unstable pony a princess, Pumpkin would never know. No wonder Canterlot had rebelled after Celestia’s death, she thought.
Vinyl Scratch concluded her instruction. “...and then you’re under the spell. Enjoy.”
Pumpkin smiled. “Thanks for the lesson. I’ll have to try it.”
Just as Vinyl had instructed, Pumpkin closed her eyes and let the magic flow through her, coursing through her horn as it glowed.
At first, nothing happened. Pumpkin was confused. Why didn’t it work? Perhaps she had misunderstood Vinyl’s instructions, or they were lacking to begin with. Or, perhaps Pumpkin wasn’t skilled enough in magic. She sat down on the bed and sighed.
Suddenly, a great weight was lifted off of her. It was as though for her entire life, she had been strung up by wires, but now all the tension was gone. She hadn’t even consciously realized she had been carrying this angst until it melted away. It was an amazing feeling, and made her smile.
The smiling made her incredibly happy, to a degree that she hadn’t been since she was young. The childlike glee seemed alien at first, like she was flipping through somepony else’s photo album, or playing with somepony else’s toys. For a brief moment, she almost shirked away, but then she giggled as she realized that she would be a fool to fight it.
Full of energy at the conviction, Pumpkin laughed at the time on the clock. Who cared how late it was? In a moment, she disappeared from her room, reappearing in the desert outside of town in a flash of light. The warm night air felt delicious on her skin, cloaking her in its embrace like a furry blanket. Mareicopa had always seemed like an oven before, but not under the want-it need it spell. She lay down on her back in the desert sand, soft and accommodating.
The stars were scattered across the heavens like the sand on the ground below. The sky was a grand tapestry of billions of stars creating light which traveled billions of lightyears, striking her retinas, sending electrical signals to her brain, where the billions of neurons in her visual cortex worked in concert to compile an image. The deceivingly simple act of looking up at the stars required countless interrelated moving parts to work exactly, yet they all did. It left Pumpkin entirely awestruck.
Though she’d never appreciated these principles in an enchanted way before, she knew of them since Doctor Stekton had given her some advanced science textbooks to read alongside Trixie’s dime novels. Back in those crushingly tedious and lonely months, it had been one of the few ways to pass the time.
Stekton. Trixie. Fancy Pants. Blueblood. Invisi-mare. Twilight Sparkle. Pumpkin didn’t want to think about them at first. When the spell wore off in an hour or so, she would surely go back to hating them with the same passion as before, like Vinyl Scratch had said she would. Nothing lasted forever, and all good things had to come to an end, including the want-it, need-it spell. But in that moment, she couldn’t help but see all those ponies as yet more cogs in the vast, complex blueprint of the universe. Why should she feel anger towards them? Was anger not merely another prison, but one of her own creation? Why waste the effort on resentment when she could break the chains of rage and finally be happy?
It was true; even in her spellbound trance, Pumpkin would bring her parents back in an instant if she could, and reverse all the tortures she had suffered. But she had made the best of her situation, she realized. Being an orphan in wartime had forced her into becoming a mature, self-reliant pony for her age and developing superior magical abilities beyond most unicorns. Her magic and maturity were both admirable fruits that might never have grown if not for the fertile soil of war. So how could Pumpkin hate ponies like Trixie, Blueblood, or Stekton for their actions, which had contributed so much to the best of who she was? While she was under the spell at least, she couldn’t bring herself to it.
Tears streamed down her face as she sat in the sand and she saw the perfection of this moment, the beauty of it. This moment in time could never be taken from her. It had been written in the stars since time began. She understood what her brother had tried to tell her at that cafe in Stirrup: the present truly was just that. Many times before, Pumpkin had turned intangible and had bullets, fire, and explosions pass harmlessly through her. But it was only just now, as she gazed up at the stars, that she felt it.
For the first time in her life, she felt truly invincible.
About an hour later, as the spell was wearing off and her mind was returning to normal, she walked back to Trixie’s house in Mareicopa, too magically depleted to teleport back. She used the last of her energy to enter her bedroom, where she crawled into bed. She fell asleep naturally in a few minutes, with only a single question in the back of her mind.
How could the Princesses have banned such a wonderful spell? Sure it could be abused, but that was no justification. How could Pumpkin bring Mareicopa back under Equestrian law, knowing that casting a spell so freeing and so exhilarating could land her in jail?
Hopefully Pound Cake would address the issue of magic law repeal in his reformation of Equestria, though he seemed to be more focused on starving the Second Kingdom and stopping corruption, so magic law might not have been a priority. As soon as Pumpkin wasn’t preoccupied with getting to warn the partisans first before they could be arrested, she would have a talk with Pound to ensure magic law repeal was on the agenda.
The vast fields of Neighbraska stretched out, barren and harvested for the year. There were few lights in the New Moon night, except for the occasional flickering lantern from a farmhouse. Otherwise, it was a flat dirt ocean.
General Top Brass and five hundred of the most gifted unicorn telekinetics, along with a few dozen others, walked along the road, making as little noise as possible. These telekinetics had helped bring the moon above Cloudsdale in order to force a ceasefire after the beginning of the war. This was before Equestria had assembled a larger army of telekinetics of their own to counteract this. If King Blueblood tried the moon trick again, it wouldn’t work now. But this trick would, assuming they were undetected.
Just like Blueblood, General Top Brass refused either to surrender or to let his people starve. Since the pegasi had destroyed the unicorns’ chance for self-sufficiency this year, they had to improvise. Thankfully, this area of the prairie appeared unguarded.
The battalion came upon a large grain silo on the roadside. It was aluminum and ten meters tall, and about twenty meters in circumference. There were many such silos all around, enough to feed Top Brass’ army for months. They would keep fighting and secure even more farmland and silos to feed Canterlot. He silently motioned to one of his unicorns, who lifted the silo from the ground, assisted by nine others. Though each of these unicorns was capable of levitating an entire grain silo by himself, they didn't want to put too few unicorns on a single silo, lest they become too tired for the trip back.
This group started walking back to the front lines with the stolen grain, just as another group of ten unicorns plucked another grain silo from the ground about a kilometer down the road. This continued in a similar fashion until fifty silos floated above the battalion. General Top Brass motioned the troops back towards Second Kingdom territory.
Suddenly, there was a burst of gunfire. The unicorns stood still, not wanting to drop their silos. Thankfully, the General had anticipated there being a few Equestrian guards, and ordered the fifty unencumbered guards of his own to open fire. They pointed their silenced weapons to the sky and fired at the shadowy pegasi above. A few of them fell to the ground. Top Brass wasn’t sure, and it might have been because of the dark, but it didn’t look like they were wearing any military uniforms.
Suddenly, there was an explosion as a grenade burst next to one of the grain silos. Highly flammable grain set alight, bursting the silo open with a tremendous boom as the other unicorns floated their own silos out of the way. Several unicorns fell to the ground, hit with shrapnel or flaming grain. A sweet smell like baking bread filled the air.
Gunfire erupted all around, as the unicorns had to fire around the floating silos to avoid puncturing them. The attackers, meanwhile, didn’t care, and blew up three more silos, riddling many others with bullet holes, making grain trickle out.
Top Brass commanded, “Get the silos back into our territory!”
The unicorns ran against an onslaught of bullets. They sprinted, their horns glowing brightly as they struggled to move their cargo along with them. The return fire was somewhat successful, hitting several of the pegasi. Seven more silos exploded, while the telekinetics dropped ten of them in the confusion. One unicorn put up a forcefield around the remaining thirty silos, preventing the gunfire and grenades from going through for a minute. This gave a small group of unicorn snipers outside the forcefield the chance to pick off some of the pegasi, until the incoming fire and grenades shattered the forcefield.
It was just three klicks to go until they reached SK territory. There were planes and anti-air weaponry stationed there. It would provide them with cover fire to offload the grain. Many empty trucks and carts waited for them, that they would speed off in and deliver the grain to Canterlot.
Two klicks to go. The hail of bullets hit the dirt, kicking dust up. The unicorn telekinetics still held their burdens, now reduced to twenty-five silos. But the assault had let up some. In a few minutes, the gunfire had stopped entirely.
“Good work, stallions! We forced their retreat!” Top Brass called. They all cheered, not bothering to be quiet anymore.
Their celebration was premature, though, as a low droning noise filled the air a minute later. Against the black sky, Top Brass spotted an even blacker dot which occasionally blocked out a star before moving on. It was headed towards them, and getting louder.
He narrowed his eyes. Pegasi didn’t make that noise unless they were flying very fast. Fast enough to break the sound barrier. Fast enough…
His horn brightened with an illumination spell as he searched the ground. He found one of the fallen pegasi. Sure enough, the pegasus was wearing no uniform. Instead, he had a light blue t-shirt, the same shade as the sky on the Equestrian flag. Top Brass quickly rummaged through the shirt pocket and found a business card inside.
“Equestrians For Action.” This wasn’t an army; this was a militia.
The general knew that the ponies who had salted the fields, who President Lightning Dust was supposed to arrest in Cloudsdale, had escaped. But the Cloudsdale Loyalty Committee hadn’t disbanded: it had reformed into this new group, keeping the same members. This included the pony he now realized was Pound Cake, less than a minute from the ground, the loud droning turning into a rumbling as the white cone of the sonic rainboom started to form.
“Retreat! Drop the grain silos; teleport back to Equestria!” shouted Top Brass.
Bright flashes peppered the field as his soldiers started disappearing. The silos landed to the ground with thuds, way too large to teleport along. But nearly half of the soldiers remained. Either they hadn’t heard Brass’ order over the loud droning, or they couldn’t teleport. Many had focused exclusively on telekinesis and had never bothered learning teleportation, or were only able to travel short distances.
Just as the sonic rainboom erupted, the General teleported himself. He got about two kilometers away, just behind the front lines of the Second Kingdom where the grain delivery trucks sat. Right as he rematerialized, he was knocked on his flank by the shockwave from the explosion of not just the sonic rainboom, but the many grain silos that were set off. Orange and yellow mixed with the usual vibrant hues of the rainbow, and he rushed for cover behind a truck.
The telekinetics who had teleported after Top Brass were thrown by the shockwave, some landing on the sides of trucks, others in the dirt. Aluminum shrapnel from the exploded silos flew everywhere, wounding ponies further. The trucks were flung over, some flying a few meters. Top Brass was lucky that the truck he hid behind still stood upright.
“Take cover!” he shouted over the ringing in his ears, the screaming of his wounded and confused troops, and the continual booms of silos which had only just caught fire and were exploding off in the distance one by one in a chain reaction. He might as well have been whispering.
The explosions finally subsided a few minutes later, and Top Brass surveyed his battalion. Three-hundred had perished. One hundred were wounded, fifty critically. They suffered from shrapnel wounds from the exploded metal silos. The able-bodied telekinetics turned the grain trucks right-side-up and loaded their comrades inside. Rather than carrying a bounty back to Canterlot, the trucks would carry dozens of wounded.
On the ride back, Top Brass’s head was spinning from the explosion, but also with questions. This was a clandestine operation, and not even the soldiers knew the specifics until that very night. Who had alerted this ‘EFA?’ They couldn’t have just happened to all be in the area with guns and grenades for an attack: the prairies were huge and contained several Equestrian states: Neighbraska, Manesas, Oklaroama, Neighowa. They would have had to know to patrol the front lines around Neighbraska in particular. But how?
Somepony must have been feeding the Equestrians information about SK military plans. This debacle, plus the EQAF invasion of Mareicopa just as the internment was kicking off, had conclusively proven it to Top Brass. There was a traitor, likely at a high level.
His only question was who.
Pound Cake shook his head as he flew back towards Fillydelphia with the remainder of his battalion. They were all cheering for their victory, but he couldn’t help thinking it was pyrrhic.
For one, they’d had fifteen casualties. His militia members were supposed to have flown high enough to avoid any sniper fire. They should’ve used grenades only, firing their guns only if absolutely necessary. The muzzle flashes from their reckless fire gave away their positions. So they had lost ponies, and were unable to destroy all of the grain silos with grenades. Pound had to take out the rest by himself, which wasn’t originally planned.
Most of the ponies who had come on this mission with him had never been in combat before: they’d merely been glorified delivery colts, helping Pound carry salt carts. Some of them were new and hadn’t even done that. Perhaps their rookie mistakes could be forgiven since they weren’t had little or no experience, and hadn’t received military training as Pound Cake had from General Spitfire. Perhaps Pound had himself to blame for not choosing more competent ponies for this mission, but he hadn’t had time to vet anypony since it was so last minute. A lot of the more competent combat veterans from the old Loyalty Committee group were still trying to sneak their belongings and loved ones out of Cloudsdale, so he couldn’t get in touch with them.
Hopefully, the clumsiness of this mission hadn’t revealed that Pound Cake had insider information about the night and location of the incursion. Surely there had been ponies live to tell about the sonic rainboom, and it would have to be a pretty big coincidence for Pound to have just happened to have been in the area by chance. But perhaps it wouldn’t matter. Blueblood was going to die, at least Pound was 99% sure, judging by the invisible mare’s tacit silence. The SK army’s last ditch effort to capture grain silos had failed. Whether the enemy knew that Pound had insider information or not, the Second Kingdom was still about to become very tumultuous in the next few weeks. They’d be desperate, starving, and leaderless.
Day Three After the Poisoning, Morning
The chemical fumes of cleaning agents filled the hallways of Saint Prancis Mareicopa, one of the city’s main hospitals. The whitewashed halls were lit by bright lights. Doctors in white lab coats hustled down the halls. Nurses and lab technicians in green scrubs pushed trams along. Most staff were earth ponies; a few were pegasi and unicorns. Every so often, a group of nurses would run towards a room to a hollering patient. All around, urgent voices of the doctors and nurses poured out from every room, along with occasional moans of pain from patients.
“I need 10 CCs of hypomipotal, stat!”
“Clear!... Clear!”
As she walked down the halls, Pumpkin thought back to Club Copa, comparing it with the hospital. Both were loud, smelly, and frantic. Why did the partisans in this city have to work at such hectic places, with such strict security? To get into this part of the hospital, Pumpkin Cake donned her Red Velvet coloring and snuck into the laundry room, taking green scrubs to wear so that it looked like she worked here.
Finally, Pumpkin reached the wing of the hospital she was looking for: the trauma ward. Unicorns from the Second Kingdom’s army were taken here for treatment when they were injured beyond what the battlefield medics could treat, and when the hospitals in Canterlot were full, which they often were. Every room in the ward was crammed, housing four patients. Vinyl Scratch had told Pumpkin that the military injured had displaced most room for civilians.
“Don’t get sick in Copa,” Vinyl had warned. The only civilian areas of the hospital left were non-trauma related, in areas that the doctors were so specialized that they couldn’t simply be reassigned. They included fields such as immunology, oncology, and gynecology.
Pumpkin Cake strolled the halls, looking into each doorway, seeing if she could find the pony she was looking for. Thankfully, all employees had name tags, so she didn’t have to ask any questions and draw unnecessary suspicion. But after about thirty minutes of searching around, she began to lose hope. What if the Second Kingdom had already arrested the partisan she was looking for?
But she saw a ghostly white earth mare pass her by, with a pink mane, blue eyes, and a red cross cutie mark. She looked to be in her mid-forties.
“Nurse Redheart?” said Pumpkin Cake.
The nurse glanced over at her. “Yes, what is it, um…” her eyes searched for Pumpkin’s nametag, but she wasn’t wearing it.
“Red Velvet,” said Pumpkin Cake. “I’m a brand new intern here. We need to talk.”
“About what?” asked Redheart.
Pumpkin quickly thought of a lie. “I was told to shadow you on your rounds today.”
Nurse Redheart groaned. “Typical hospital admin, not telling me these things. But it’s their fault, not yours. I’m about to take a lunch, though. You know where the cafeteria is yet?”
Redheart reached the end of the line in the hospital cafeteria, paid for her meal, and sat next to Pumpkin Cake, who was already seated at a table off in the corner, far away from the closest other pony. Redheart grabbed her sandwich and took a bite.
Pumpkin Cake lowered her head and glanced around, ensuring nopony was watching or listening.
“You’re in danger, Nurse Redheart,” whispered Pumpkin Cake. “Your name is on a list of anti-Second Kingdom partisans. If you don’t hide, they’ll kill or arrest you.”
If there were any color in Nurse Redheart’s face to begin with, it surely would have drained. Her eyes widened, but only for a brief second, and then she regained her composure.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, smiling. “I work in the trauma ward healing Second Kingdom soldiers. When I’m not doing that, I help in the maternity ward delivering unicorn newborns. If I weren’t an inferior earth pony, I’d be a model unicorn citizen. I’m grateful that the SK can benefit from my skills in medicine despite my handicap.”
Redheart grabbed her sandwich and took a bite, as Pumpkin visibly cringed at this self-deprecating talk. Was this how all earth ponies and pegasi in the Second Kingdom talked just so that suspicion wouldn’t fall on them?
“Being an earth pony isn’t a handicap,” Pumpkin said.
“Yeah, right. What will you tell me next, that everypony is ‘special in their own way?’” Nurse Redheart groaned, glancing down at her tray. “Would you want to be an earth pony? Would you like to use your hooves or mouth for every task instead of using telekinesis, or have to walk everywhere instead of teleport?”
Pumpkin didn’t even have to think about that one. She couldn’t lie.
“No.”
“Then it’s a handicap, Miss Velvet.”
Pumpkin shook her head. “Never mind, but whatever you’ve done, you’re on a hit list.”
Redheart narrowed her eyes, her voice rising slightly. “I told you, I’m not a partisan! If this is another loyalty test by the hospital admin to see if I’ll admit to something, you can drop the act, now. I haven’t done anything illegal, and you’re a terrible actress. You’re brand new here and you’re ‘shadowing’ me? We don’t let new interns at St. Prancis shadow; we have them clean up vomit and empty out bedpans for months first.”
Pumpkin glanced around nervously. Thankfully, it didn’t look like anypony was looking in their direction.
“You’re right, Nurse, I’m not a real intern. Because I’m a partisan myself.”
Redheart chuckled. “Wow, they’re really having you follow all the way through, huh? Okay, Miss ‘Partisan,’ what is your real name?”
“Pumpkin Cake.”
Redheart laughed hard. “Oh, you are, huh? The one who can walk through walls, who they’re all so terrified of? ‘Magically armed and dangerous killer, could be anywhere at anytime.’ You’re on the wanted posters and everything?”
She nodded.
Redheart quipped, “Sure you’re Pumpkin Cake, and I’m Octavia the maestro. If you were really Pumpkin Cake, every SK official in this hospital would be dead already. Who put you up to this, anyway? Was it Doctor Stethoscope?”
“I can prove it,” said Pumpkin Cake, glancing around yet again, seeing that they hadn’t caught anypony’s attention in the cafeteria. Then, once she ensured that nopony was watching, she stuck her hoof through the tabletop to demonstrate.
Nurse Redheart grinned. “That’s a fancy trick; I admit. But I’ll bet that your hoof didn’t actually pass through that table. It’s sleight of hoof, an illusion: like when a stage magician saws a pony in half.”
Pumpkin Cake sighed. As an earth pony, Nurse Redheart must have been put through all sorts of elaborate loyalty tests by her supervisors before, so much so that she didn’t believe anypony who tried to get her to admit to anything.
“What do I have to do to prove it?” asked Pumpkin Cake.
“Something that would otherwise be impossible,” said Nurse Redheart as she finished up her meal. She stood up from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
Pumpkin Cake followed Nurse Redheart through the hallway, her mind racing. She had to convince Redheart that she was Pumpkin Cake instead of a Second Kingdom agent, or else Redheart wouldn’t believe that she was in danger, wouldn’t go into hiding, and would be caught by an actual Second Kingdom agent. Ironically, as much time as Pumpkin had spent disguising herself and ensuring nopony in Mareicopa could see her true identity, now she needed to convince Redheart of exactly that.
Redheart passed by a sign and through a doorway indicating that they had entered the maternity ward.
“This is the maternity ward. Though you’ve probably seen it before, ‘intern,’” said Nurse Redheart.
“What do you do here?” asked Pumpkin Cake.
“I help to deliver babies, what do you think?” asked Redheart.
“I mean, what are your duties?” asked Pumpkin.
“All sorts of things. Keeping the patient hydrated, checking dilation, assisting the doctors in routine duties. Sometimes, I’ll administer morphine, but lately, the Second Kingdom troops take our whole supply of painkillers. They deserve them, of course.”
An announcement came over the speakers, and Redheart’s head jolted up.
“Sorry, Velvet, but the charade is over; I’m needed elsewhere.”
Nurse Redheart headed down the long hallway at a sprint, rounding a corner. Pumpkin Cake ran after, struggling to keep up. Her months spent underground had left her out of shape. Not that she was ever in the best physical shape to begin with, given her reliance on magic at the expense of muscle. Sometimes, even flights of stairs would leave her winded. Her lungs started to burn as they turned another corner.
Earth ponies are handicapped, huh? she thought.
Finally, Redheart slowed as she entered one of the doors. Pumpkin teleported the remainder of the distance, and found herself outside of an office. Nurse Redheart was inside along with two doctors: a young unicorn mare and an elderly, grey earth pony.
“...hours and still nine centimeters. There are complications. A cesarean section is needed at once,” said the earth pony doctor.
The unicorn doctor, who sat behind the desk, said, “What is the race of the fetus?”
“Earth pony,” said Nurse Redheart.
The unicorn doctor shook her head. “Our surgeons are required in the trauma ward. A dozen troops are here from Neighbraska with severe shrapnel wounds. A non-unicorn birth is not a priority.”
“The mother and the foal will die without this surgery, Doctor Stethoscope!” the earth doctor exclaimed. Nurse Redheart merely stood by silently.
“Then provide end-of-life care,” Doctor Stethoscope said flatly.
“You took all of our painkillers for...” the earth doctor started, but trailed off as Doctor Stethoscope’s brow furrowed.
The elderly doctor shook his head and turned to Redheart. “Nurse Redheart, please attend to the patient and provide her with a dose of sedatives. At least she can die in her sleep peacefully.”
Nurse Redheart nodded and walked out the door, passing by Pumpkin Cake who stood outside.
Redheart raised an eyebrow. “You’re still here? I guess you really are shadowing me, huh?”
Pumpkin nodded. This trip down the hallway was slower and less rushed, Redheart moving at merely a jogging pace. Pumpkin kept up through teleporting, until Redheart entered a delivery room.
There sat an expectant earth mare in the pangs of labor, and an earth stallion, the father.
“What’s the news? Is she going into surgery?” he demanded, as the patient moaned.
Nurse Redheart shook her head. “Mister and Missus Granite, the surgeons are all needed for injured troops…”
The father shook his head. The mother fell silent for a moment.
“...If the ultrasound had shown a unicorn… I’m so sorry,” said Nurse Redheart, lowering her head at Mr. and Mrs. Granite. The father stomped his hoof to the ground, which rattled all of the equipment in the room.
“I can sedate her so that she won’t die in pain. At least you get to say goodbye,” said Nurse Redheart consolingly.
“Wait,” said Pumpkin Cake. They all turned towards her. “I’m not a surgeon, but I know a spell that can—”
Nurse Redheart’s brow furrowed as she shouted, “I said your charade is over! Is it not enough to hassle me with your stupid loyalty test? You have to hassle my patients, too, with no respect for their grief?”
“Hold on,” uttered the mother. “Let her... speak…”
The father nodded. He turned to Pumpkin. “What spell?”
Pumpkin answered, “An intangibility spell.”
“Don’t listen,” said Nurse Redheart, her voice lowering. “In thirty years of nursing I’ve never heard of this; why do you think surgeons operate with knives and scalpels? She is lyi—”
“Do it,” said the mother to Pumpkin. The father nodded.
Pumpkin Cake nodded and walked over to the mother. She hesitated for a moment. She was no midwife. She had no training. Could she really do this? What if she messed up? But then she recalled the doctors’ conversation. This mare and her child would die no matter what Pumpkin did.
Her horn lit up as she felt around Mrs. Granite’s belly. Unlike when she had tried to grab Fancy Pants’ heart, it was clear where the baby was. He was huge. He was also turned around, rather than head-first. No wonder the mother had needed a c-section.
She turned the foal intangible and slowly lifted him from the womb. He silently screamed as the light met his opening eyes, the same shade of red as his father’s. The foal was not an earth pony as the doctors said. He was a unicorn, his horn still barely a nub that didn’t even protrude from his already-thick mane, the same vibrant blonde as his mother’s. They must not have been able to see it on the ultrasound. Two non-unicorn parents producing a unicorn was rare, but it did happen: Pumpkin herself was one.
The baby, now solid, floated into his mother’s arms, his mewling audible. The father’s jaw dropped in astonishment, as did Nurse Redheart’s. But the nurse quickly snapped into action as she would with any other birth, severing the umbilical cord and checking on the baby. She ran her hoof over him, checking his heartbeat and his breathing, and then checking them again, and again, trying to confirm that the baby wasn’t an illusion. She grabbed a stethoscope and checked the mare’s belly to make sure the baby wasn’t somehow still inside.
“Oh my goodness! Thank you so much!” the mare exclaimed, her face wide in a smile. The father got up and hugged Pumpkin Cake so tightly that she couldn’t breathe. It was so odd for her, to have saved two ponies’ lives with so little effort, with a spell she cast so often. She smiled, happy to have been a help.
The father let Pumpkin go, and she turned to Nurse Redheart. “If that ‘sleight of hoof’ doesn’t convince you, nothing will.”
“I… I… don’t know what to say,” Redheart stammered. “I’ve known the Granites since Mrs. Granite became pregnant. This is really their baby. He looks just like them. There was no other way for you to deliver him but...”
“Intangibility,” said Doctor Stethoscope, who stood in the doorway. The ponies turned towards her.
“I haven’t ever seen anything like that,” said Doctor Stethoscope. “No doctor knows that spell. But you aren’t a real doctor, are you?”
“No,” said Pumpkin Cake. “I’m no more a real doctor than you are a loyal unicorn.”
She pointed a hoof towards the unicorn colt who Doctor Stethoscope had so quickly condemned to die when she thought he was an earth pony.
“She’s Pumpkin Cake, the fugitive,” Nurse Redheart finally acknowledged, as Pumpkin changed her coloring to normal.
“Figures that a traitor like you would know somepony like her, Redheart,” said the doctor.
“No!” Redheart shouted. “You are the traitor! You would’ve let this unicorn foal die!”
“Security!” Doctor Stethoscope shouted out into the hallway. She shook her head. “You simply don’t understand, Redheart. You never accepted the decisions of ponies superior to you. That’s why you were to be liquidated after your shift ended today. I suppose that Pumpkin Cake got to you first.”
“Oh, no, she thinks I’m just another one of your loyalty tests,” said Pumpkin snidely as the hoofsteps of the security ponies drew closer to the door.
“Yes, I’m with you now, Pumpkin Cake. I believe you. Now get us out of here,” Redheart urged.
Pumpkin chuckled. The two of them disappeared in a flash of light.
Pumpkin Cake and Nurse Redheart reappeared on a rooftop of a building a few blocks away from the hospital.
“So it’s really true, then. You’re really Pumpkin Cake,” said Nurse Redheart. She put her hoof on Pumpkin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you, earlier.”
“It’s okay,” said Pumpkin Cake, smiling. “If you’d believed me, I never would’ve saved that foal.”
“An amazing coincidence, that,” Nurse Redheart chuckled. “Years ago, I helped deliver you and your brother when I still worked at Ponyville General.”
“Really?” asked Pumpkin, raising an eyebrow.
Redheart nodded. “I remember you and Pound to this day, because it’s uncommon to have a unicorn born to two earth pony parents... but twins, and the other one a pegasus? Quite rare. And now you helped me, who delivered you, to deliver another unicorn child... to two earth pony parents! What are the odds?”
“As unlikely as me having that spell to begin with,” said Pumpkin.
“You have an incredible gift,” said Redheart. “Why don’t you go into medicine? You’d make a great doctor.”
Pumpkin shrugged. “I’d like to, but I’ve been busy fighting the Second Kingdom. I just hope they don’t kidnap that earth-born unicorn colt and force him to farm, like with me.”
Redheart solemnly nodded. “The SK runs this hospital with an iron hoof. You saw it. They don’t care about patients who aren’t unicorns. Even the unicorn patients get pushed aside in favor of the soldiers. We used to be a private hospital run by a religious charity. But Blueblood nationalized it. He cut our salaries, increased our hours, and made us treat war wounded. I’d go back to Ponyville, but that’s occupied, too.”
“Why are you on a partisan list?”
“I wanted to rebel, but I had a tough time, since every non-unicorn at St. Prancis was under scrutiny. They sent ponies to test us, usually ones who would say something bad about Blueblood and see if we reacted positively. I always passed those tests, but then they sent phony partisans to ask if we wanted to ‘join’ them. But I was smart. If a ‘partisan’ ever approached me, I said that I was loyal to the SK despite my handicap, just like I told you.”
Pumpkin chuckled. “You can drop the act now.”
Redheart shook her head. “It’s not an act. Unicorns are the most versatile, useful race. Quit being modest, and accept your higher status. I accept it, and I’m an earth pony. It doesn’t mean that you have to like Blueblood, or that you have to hate non-unicorns. It just means that you accept reality for what it is. That’s part of being an adult, young mare. I’m an earth pony, so I could never be like you, Pumpkin Cake. I could never deliver a baby like you did. And I could never sedate a pony with magic alone. I could never hold a scalpel in the precise, sanitary grip of telekinesis.”
Once again, Pumpkin had no retort. Perhaps Redheart was right, and perhaps unicorns were superior to other ponies, at least in the areas she’d mentioned. But maybe that was okay. There was a difference between being superior to someone and hating them.
Redheart continued, “I could never cast an ultrasound spell to see inside of a pony. I could never treat cancer with dark magic, or—”
“Wait,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Say that again, about the cancer.”
Redheart nodded. “Dark magic is highly illegal in Equestria, but Blueblood legalized it: the only compassionate thing he’s done. Normally, it’s only useful for terrible spells like torture or necromancy.”
Pumpkin said, “Voodoo magic and all, huh? I don't touch the stuff myself.”
Nurse Redheart explained, “There’s a voodoo curse to weaken a pony, that makes hair fall out and muscles atrophy. But it also slows cancer cells dividing. With a voodoo doll, a unicorn doctor can target just the area containing the tumor, but dark magic is so toxic that the patient still experiences some side effects. Better than dying, though.”
“Hmm… you’re the second partisan to tell me a good thing about a spell that’s banned in Equestria,” said Pumpkin Cake, squinting. “This is crazy, but I have to know: did you also tell an invisible mare?”
Nurse Redheart’s eyes widened. “How did you know? Yes, when an Equestrian partisan finally recruited me, she was an invisible mare. Like I told the fake partisans, I said I was loyal to Blueblood. But she convinced me by saying that she’d been spying on me for months, and if she were truly a Second Kingdom agent, she would have reported me already for being a lesbian.
“You see, I have a unicorn marefriend. Blueblood hates unicorn homosexuality, since he wants the master race to bear children. Maybe I should date other earth mares, since that’s legal, but I’m only attracted to unicorns. If we were caught, I’d merely be executed since I’m an earth pony, but she would be locked in a dungeon, raped repeatedly by stallions to ‘cure’ her, and when she became pregnant, she’d be forced to carry any unicorn child to term, who would be taken by the state, lest she ‘corrupt’ them too.”
Pumpkin Cake shook her head in disgust. She thought she had it bad with Trixie, but compared to that? She might as well have been on holiday.
Redheart continued, “The mare showed me incriminating photos she secretly took months ago. She had evidence all that time, so why wouldn’t she have already had me arrested? It convinced me. I went into training for the partisans for several weeks. Because of my job, I proved to be valuable. As a nurse, I can sabotage the ability of the SK to treat its war wounded. I haven’t broken my oath to do no harm, though; I only indirectly sabotage.
“Once they understood that I was valuable, I told the invisible mare that dark magic should be allowed in Equestria, at least for cancer treatments. She just said that she’d ‘pass it along.’ That was two weeks ago. I’ve been to a few meetings since then and it hasn’t come up again.”
Pumpkin Cake remained silent for a few moments and tried to put the pieces together. Invisi-mare must have been an Equestrian agent. She must have “passed it along” to Fancy Pants, and given him a list of partisans who didn’t agree with Equestria’s magic laws, the same list he’d given to Pumpkin when trying to prove his loyalty. But he was disloyal, because he was cooperating with an Equestrian agent. Where did Fancy Pants fit into this whole plan? Was he merely invisi-mare’s secret lover who he got tips about partisans from, or was he more?
Either way, one thing became clear to her. Equestria had sold the Mareicopa partisans out.
“Nurse Redheart,” asked Pumpkin Cake, “will you help me find the other partisans and alert them before it’s too late?”
Redheart nodded. “Get me a disguise and I’ll gladly warn them. They’ll listen to me, since I know several of them well. I can help you find them quickly, too.”
Pumpkin smiled, and her horn lit up. “What color hair and coat would you like?”
Over the next few hours, Nurse Redheart and Pumpkin Cake warned more partisans on the list. Most of them had similar stories to Vinyl Scratch and Nurse Redheart: they had voiced their concern over magic laws or some other aspect of Equestria that they didn’t like, either to invisi-mare or to some other partisan, and were now on the list.
But thanks to good teamwork, Pumpkin Cake and her new allies fanned out across the city and got to nearly every pony before the end of the day. Pumpkin would warn a pony, who would then go help warn more ponies. Only ten of the ponies on the list they couldn’t find, and Pumpkin Cake figured that these were ones who the police had already arrested.
In addition to the ponies on the list, they also recruited partisans who weren’t on it, such as Nurse Redheart’s marefriend. Redheart also knew a few anti-Blueblood doctors and nurses at the hospital, and promised to approach them in secret over the next few days. Vinyl Scratch promised that over half of the hundreds of fans who had attended her raves were itching for a fight. She had a mailing list for concert tickets, so she could go to their houses and reach out to them over the next few weeks. Other partisans had other friends and family who wanted to join. By that afternoon, the partisans under Pumpkin Cake had swelled to over sixty, with many more promised. They were roughly seventy percent unicorns, and fifteen percent each of pegasi and earth ponies.
Most of them had already armed themselves, either with magic or guns. Some were less prepared, but the two dozen partisans like Vinyl who hadn’t planned hiding places in advance now had homes, thanks to a partisan officer at the First Bank of Mareicopa. He had a list of many foreclosed houses in Mareicopa they could squat in. He put a thousand addresses on folded up paper slips in a hat, and each partisan drew a slip, keeping the address secret. That way, nopony knew which addresses were picked, or which partisan drew which.
In full view of the partisans, the hat with the remaining slips was locked in the bank’s safe deposit box for future partisans to draw from, and Pumpkin destroyed the key and welded the box permanently shut, so that only she could retrieve the hat. The partisans went to their new homes all at once, and sealed them up tight, just as Pumpkin had with Trixie’s house, so that even if the invisible mare found which houses they occupied, she couldn’t easily get in.
The vast majority of the partisans wanted Equestria’s magic laws relaxed or repealed for various reasons. Pumpkin heard them loud and clear. She had her own convictions as well. And now, she had time to talk with her brother. Even though he was across the country, Pumpkin could now get there in just an hour, as one of the partisans, named Walkabout, was a gifted teleporter.
Day Three After King Blueblood’s Poisoning, Sundown
Pound and Pumpkin cake smiled and hugged, as they greeted each other.
“It's great to see you, sis!” Pound Cake exclaimed.
“You too, Pound,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Nice new office. Took me a while to find you here in Fillydelphia. How have you been?”
Pound boasted, “We just got done stopping the Second Kingdom from stealing our grain from Neighbraska. There were a few snags, but otherwise it was a good old fashioned hoedown smackdown! Meanwhile, Equestrians For Action has scheduled its first anti-corruption rally in Manehattan a month from now. What’s been up with you, Pumpkin?”
“I’ve been gathering allies,” she said. “I have dozens in Copa.”
“Great!” he exclaimed. “I knew you’d find some friends. How is stopping the genocide coming along?”
“We’re making plans,” she said. “But, before I do that, I have to address something.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” said Pound.
“We oppose some of Equestria’s magic laws. If Mareicopa rejoins Equestria, those laws will have to change. Since you’re handling the political side of things, I want your committee to include this in its official platform.”
Pound scratched his head. “There’s like a gazillion magic laws, Pumpkin. Which ones don’t you like?”
“Several,” said Pumpkin Cake. “For starters, Equestria should legalize the want-it, need-it spell.”
Pound Cake guffawed, throwing his head back as his mane rustled around. He slammed his hoof on the desk. Pumpkin cake rolled her eyes, waiting for him to finish.
“And you said I was the goofy one!” Pound Cake laughed.
Pumpkin sighed.
Pound regained his composure and asked, “No, but seriously, which laws?”
“I just told you,” said Pumpkin Cake flatly. “I’m very serious about this.”
Pound Cake shook his head. “Sorry, sis. The EFA is fighting corruption and ponies with too much power. Why would we wanna legalize a mass mind control spell? You might as well ask to legalize bribery!"
“WINI should still be illegal for mind control. Legalize personal use only,” said Pumpkin.
“Personal use? You mean like addicts do? Those guys are waste cases, Pumpkin. I see them on the streets of Manehattan and Fillydelphia. Ponies have lost their homes, jobs, and lust for life itself because of WINI. They’d rather just lie around in gutters under some spell. They think that they just have their little mind trick, and that's all they need. If you legalize that spell, the problem will just get even worse. It’s society’s duty to protect weak-willed ponies from themselves, and it's their duty to be off of that spell so they can be happy by living fulfilling lives, not cheat to be happy with magic."
“Sorry that they aren’t being happy correctly,” Pumpkin Cake quipped. “But for the sake of stopping corruption, you should want this law repealed. It’s unenforceable, for one. You’ve seen addicts in Equestria where the spell is illegal; that proves the ban doesn’t work. WINI is an easy spell to learn if you really want. You might as well try to outlaw masturbation, too.”
Pound chuckled.
“The magic law is just giving ammo to the corrupt cops,” Pumpkin continued. “If the police want to falsely arrest somepony, they just have to claim he’s under some illegal spell, and it’s the officer’s word in court against the pony. I did some research, and it happens a lot, especially to unicorns. Racist, crooked cops demand bribes from unicorns all the time by threatening them with false magic law arrests.”
“Then the problem isn’t the magic law; it’s the cops,” said Pound. “Fire the crooked cops and keep the magic law.”
She replied, “But repealing this law will free up space in prisons, and let the police focus on serious crimes instead of victimless ones.”
“There is a victim. The victim is the addict,” he said.
“I don’t know where you got your info from, Pound. Some homeless ponies that you saw, who you thought might be WINI addicts? When I used the spell, it actually motivated me more, not less. I sure wouldn’t go live in a gutter. How do you know that these homeless ponies were on WINI?”
“I talk to them, that’s how. They’ve all been let down by society, screwed over by big business, and they need our help. They need rehab. They need food, water, medicine, and money.”
“And beggars will tell any sob story to get your money,” said Pumpkin. “Don’t trust a hobo who you just met. Trust your own sister. The spell isn’t addictive.”
Pound narrowed his eyes. “Anything that feels good can be addictive. Maybe you just don’t have an addictive personality, but those homeless ponies do.”
Pumpkin shrugged. “Okay, fine. Even if it were addictive, it’s not our place to come between somepony and an addiction. They have to break it themselves, or go to rehab, or freeze to death in the road.”
Pound Cake shook his head. “You’re so cold-hearted! Don’t you care?” he exclaimed.
“I do care. That’s why I want the laws repealed! You want to help the homeless? Then let them help themselves,” said Pumpkin Cake.
Pound sighed. “I can’t lobby for an addictive spell to be legal, Pumpkin. Especially not one that can also be used for mind control, because how can we trust that ponies will be honest and only use it on themselves? We can’t. Corrupt officials teach us that ponies who have power tend to abuse it. There have to be safeguards against that power. The magic laws are safeguards. I mean, otherwise, why not just legalize voodoo?”
Pumpkin blushed. “Uh, actually, that was another thing that—”
Pound threw his hooves up in the air. “I can’t believe you, Pumpkin Cake! Whatever Trixie did to you in that dungeon, I’m sorry, but it’s changed you, and now you—”
“Don’t pull the ‘Pumpkin is crazy’ card,” she snapped. “I’m perfectly rational. You just can’t respond to my points, so you have to resort to personal attacks, just like you do in every argument we have.”
“I wasn’t going to call you crazy. And I did respond to your points, but you’re so dense that you didn’t—”
“There you go again.”
“You really don’t care, do you, Pumpkin? You don’t care at all if ponies get addicted to a spell, or if they get mind controlled, or voodoo’ed. You don’t care about homelessness.”
“Nice strawpony, Pound. Another of your favorite tactics.”
Pound sighed. “Fine, but you still think that as long as you’ve got your own jollies and are left alone, other ponies can all go do whatever. They can just be left alone, too.”
“That would be fantastic, actually,” said Pumpkin Cake, smiling. “I’m not into controlling other ponies’ lives. That’s what ponies like Blueblood do.”
“That’s what any government does!” Pound shouted.
“Not like Blueblood does. Not like Twilight does. Not like you want to do,” she said.
“I want it because I care,” he said. “I want to reform the system; I don’t want to tear it all down. I certainly hope that’s not what you’re going to do if you don’t get your way.”
Pumpkin Cake sighed. “You obviously can’t be reasoned with. Not when you get like this. Maybe now that I’ve got the partisans, I can talk some sense into invisi-mare, and—”
“You’re wasting your time,” said Pound Cake. “The invisible mare wouldn’t lobby to repeal the magic laws, either. I mean, she’s about to kill Blueblood, the same pony who fought those laws to begin with.”
Pumpkin’s eyebrows raised. “Wait, she’s killing Blueblood? And she talked to you?”
Pound brought both of his front hooves to his mouth as his eyes widened. Pumpkin smiled.
“Something tells me that I wasn’t supposed to know that. But now that I do, I have an invisible mare to go catch,” said Pumpkin Cake, turning around towards the door. Before she could open it, Pound Cake was right in front of it.
“You’d better not disrupt her plans to kill him, or I swear I’ll never speak to you again!” Pound exclaimed.
Pumpkin shook her head. “What? No. I want Blueblood dead, too. But I also want the cooperation of the new President Fancy Pants. And now, I know just how to get it. It was nice talking to you, Pound Cake. I must be going.”
He refused to budge.
Pumpkin giggled. “You think you can stop me? How cute.”
She turned intangible, and walked through him and the door.
Pumpkin walked through the smoggy evening streets of Fillydelphia. Walkabout had told her that while she was talking to Pound, he would go to get dinner at the cafe down the street. But when she had gone to check it, they were closed for the night. She figured she’d just walk around until he saw her and said hello.
As she rounded a corner onto an empty street, a gun clicked behind her.
“You don’t talk sense into ‘invisi-mare,’ Pumpkin Cake. Invisi-mare talks sense into you.”
“That sounds like a bad joke,” said Pumpkin, not bothering to turn around. “And you know that I can just turn intangible before you shoot me, so why bother clicking the gun?”
“Shoot you? No, pulling the safety on my gun back is just how I say hello!” the invisible mare said.
Suddenly, a floating baseball cap appeared in front of Pumpkin Cake. She didn’t know if it was held there by telekinesis, or if it was atop the head of the invisible mare. Either way, she looked at the baseball cap, right where the mare’s eyes would be under it.
“So, I heard everything in that office, by the way,” said invisi-mare.
“I gathered,” said Pumpkin Cake. “And I assume you’ve been following me in Mareicopa, too, but I made sure you couldn’t follow those partisans to their new homes.”
The baseball cap bobbed up and down, as if nodding. “Well played with having them draw from a hat, and then having them leave all at once so I couldn’t follow them all. It’d take me weeks to check 1,000 foreclosed homes for two dozen partisans, so kudos. And good job sealing up Trixie’s house so I can’t turn into a mouse and get in easily. Here I thought that you were just a deranged serial killer bent on revenge, but you’re a planning political partisan who actually has goals. I’m sorry that I misjudged you, Pumpkin Cake.”
Pumpkin chuckled. “Well, I’m sorry that I misjudged you, too. I thought that you were a Second Kingdom fascist at first. But you’re the Equestrian honeypot. I’m guessing Fancy Pants is in on the assassination plan so that he can be president, and then he’ll sign a peace treaty. I’m also guessing that, now that I know this, you’ll kill me.”
“Good guessing,” said the invisible mare. “But I don’t want to kill you, or else you’d already be dead. Instead, I’m standing here talking to you. I even have my hat on so you can make eye contact instead of gazing everywhere like some schizophrenic.”
“But I just foiled your plans to kill those partisans,” said Pumpkin. “Why wouldn’t you shoot me?”
“Because I’ve found a use for you and them,” said the invisible mare. “Before, I didn’t know that you were freeing the internment camps. Had I known that in Fancy Pants’ office, I’d have treated you a bit differently. But now I realize: like your brother, you too can help me with my plans.
“You see, Fancy Pants really hates the internment. He wants to release all those ponies immediately. But there’s a little problem. He can’t just pull the plug as soon as he’s president, or else he’ll look weak to the voters. Weak leaders don’t get re-elected, and their treaties don’t get respected. Weak leaders get assassinated. Weak leaders get overthrown in coups. I need you to liberate the internment camps, so that Fancy Pants won’t have to.”
“We’re already going to,” said Pumpkin Cake.
The hat shook from side to side. “Not how you want to. Let me guess, you’d storm the stadium with a bunch of militants with guns and combat magic? Kill all the guards, then lead the ponies all out to safety somehow?”
Pumpkin nodded. The voice laughed.
“Too many things could go wrong with that plan. Ponies could get shot, or end up captured. The hostages could get caught in the crossfire, or be shot outright if the guards panic. Besides, even if you succeed that way, then ponies might start to question how Fancy Pants couldn’t secure the stadium against such mediocre attacks. How could a small group with rifles rescue the one bargaining chip standing between the Second Kingdom and unconditional surrender, they’ll ask. Why wasn’t there more security, they’ll ask. Fancy Pants would look weak.
“No, you have to rescue those ponies with methods so outrageous that nopony would think to blame Fancy Pants for when it happens, because there’s no way they could’ve expected him to see it coming. Nopony could foresee it, except for your group, because you’re ones that disagree with the magic laws. So even though you’re fighting against the SK, you’re into magic that’s forbidden in Equestria.”
“Which was why you wanted us killed,” Pumpkin retorted. “Why should I trust you?”
The voice chuckled. “I only wanted those ponies killed because they’d be a liability to Equestria. Hell, I’ve screwed around with WINI before, too. I don’t have a problem with relaxing the magic laws; in fact, I agree with what you told your brother. I just have a problem with armed ponies who hate those magic laws and might present a threat down the road when Mareicopa joins Equestria again. Have those ponies killed like I wanted to, and the problem goes away. But simply change the laws like you want to, and the problem also goes away. You’ve ensured that I can’t kill them. So now, we’re going to change the laws.”
“How?” asked Pumpkin. “I already asked Pound to lobby for it, and he won’t.”
“You want those spells legalized in Equestria? You want to change the mind of ponies like your brother? Then you’ll use those spells to rescue the captives at Chupacabra Stadium. WINI, voodoo, whatever else. Show Equestria that those spells can be good. Right now, ponies think they’re only evil. Ponies hear ‘dark magic’ or ‘want-it, need-it’ and all they can think about is King Sombra enslaving the Crystal Empire.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Even I thought that, before I was educated.”
“Then you know that you’ll never change the laws unless you change ponies’ attitudes about them, like your own attitude changed. If you use those spells to deliver thousands of ponies from genocide, in a flashy way, how could Equestria justify keeping them banned? You’d have the perfect argument for legalizing the spells, or relaxing the laws at the very least. If your political opponent says Sombra, you could say Chupacabra.”
Pumpkin chuckled. “Okay. We’ll use the banned spells to free the stadium. Then ponies will see their benefit.”
“It’s not 100% guaranteed that Equestria will change the laws, but it’s a good bet. Especially if I make Fancy Pants includes that item in his peace negotiations. The laws will probably be relaxed, though not entirely repealed,” said the invisible mare.
Pumpkin nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Oh, by the way, Pumpkin Cake, before you liberate the stadium, run your plan by me. Every evening from 8:00-8:15, I’ll stand outside the old Coffee Cup Cafe in case you wanna chat. You know where it is?”
Pumpkin Cake nodded. The invisible mare disappeared in a flash of light.
Pumpkin walked down the road until she found the portly, navy-blue coated Walkabout. He sat on a bench outside of the EFA headquarters, eating a Fillydelphia cheese sandwich.
He blushed slightly as Pumpkin walked up to him, realizing that she had been walking around looking for him the whole time.
“I just left for a moment to get me a sanger; I didn’t know you’d be done with your talk by now,” said Walkabout. As a recent emigrant from Oatstralia, he spoke with a thick accent.
“Pound and I had an argument, and I left early,” said Pumpkin Cake.
She didn’t want to mention her encounter with the invisible mare to any of the partisans. Given that invisi-mare had put them all on a hit-list, they certainly wouldn’t trust her. Pumpkin herself barely trusted invisi-mare, and wouldn’t let her guard down in case it was a ruse. But liberating the stadium was something that the partisans were already planning to do anyway. Even if invisi-mare’s offer was a ruse, giving the ponies their deliverance with banned spells would still help their case against the magic laws.
King Blueblood laid in his bed, which he had been unable to leave for two days. He felt weak, his muscles ached, and his nose ran. A day earlier, he’d received a report from the front that General Top Brass had failed to capture the grain silos. Starvation was already beginning to set in, and the store shelves were almost entirely empty, except for a few scraps. Though the state-controlled press had tried to gloss over this, it was hard to keep the secret of the famine from ponies who had to pay fifty bits for a single loaf of bread. Some ponies had already started grazing in the fields for grass, but there was little green grass in urban Canterlot, and ponies required more nutrition than that. Some unicorn civilians would teleport across the battle lines to eat in Equestria.
The doctors had told Blueblood that he had a terrible case of the flu, in addition to a weak immune system. He felt a sneeze coming on, but was so tired that he couldn’t bother to sneeze, so he simply endured the tingling annoyance.
His condition was a twisted, but apt analogy, he thought. A leader sat in his bed, weak and frail, as his nation also similarly decayed. He was trapped in this bunker, immobile, just as the Second Kingdom was trapped behind the firm battle lines that they hadn’t been able to break through in months. The zebras had won against the griffons, but their reinforcements were coming too late, and the west coast was too far to break through to establish reliable food supply lines from the Zebra Empire. The Everfree River was the only other alternative, but its mouth had been blockaded by the Equestrian naval fleet near Applewood.
For his entire life, Blueblood had fought to secure the rights of unicorns to use whatever magic they saw fit, to live in their own cities, and eat food grown by their own horns. He had won Canterlot its independence, freeing them of the disproportionate taxation, the magic laws, and the distrust of the alicorns. His army had freed the unicorns of Mareicopa a few years later. He had almost made the unicorns self-sufficient through farming, but the pegasi had destroyed it.
He didn’t consider himself a warmonger. Sure, he had started the war, but he didn’t want to destroy Equestria entirely. He simply wanted all unicorns, if they so desired, to have space to live in the Second Kingdom. He also wanted for a rump Equestria to still exist for the other two races and the recalcitrant unicorns to have to themselves. All ponies, even pegasi and earth ponies, had the right to self-rule, Blueblood firmly believed. That was why he had helped establish the Cloud Confederacy, in addition to the strategic advantage that it had given him to split his opponent in two. Similarly, the Zebra Emperor wanted independence for his people in Zebrica, as well as in Tall Tale and Vanhoover where they were oppressed. Who was Twilight Sparkle to deny this to them? Who were these pegasi to starve the unicorns?
Of course, he knew the answer. Equestria needed the unicorns, which was why they couldn’t let them go. They needed them to perform surgeries. They needed them to invent gadgets. They needed them to craft clocks, compases, cameras, calculators, and other complex contraptions with small, delicate pieces that only telekinesis could reliably assemble. They needed them to prospect for gems, oil, and metals with dowsing spells. In short, Equestria needed unicorns to do the things that only unicorns could.
Through the Equestrians’ very desperate actions designed to drive the unicorns back into their arms, they proved their inferiority. After all, what pony so desperately seeks to keep company with his lesser? Nopony. Job seekers sought positions with the best firms, and students sought to be accepted to the best schools. In the same way, the pegasi and earth ponies sought to share a country with unicorns. That alone proved who the superior beings were. Equestria needed and desired the unicorns, but the Second Kingdom didn’t need or desire the undesirables. Were it not for the deliberate salting of SK farmland, they would be just fine on their own, succeeding while the other two races struggled.
Fancy Pants walked into the room.
“Hello, King Blueblood,” said Fancy Pants.
“Hello,” Blueblood weakly croaked, his voice hardly making a sound.
“I know that you can’t talk very easily. I just came to check on you.”
“Weak… dying…” Blueblood said.
Fancy Pants shook his head. “No, your majesty! It’s simply a minor illness. You’ll be back on your hooves in no time. Just have confidence.”
Blueblood rolled his eyes. He had had the flu before. This was far worse. He sincerely believed that he was dying, though the doctors didn’t agree. But if he was dying, at least he was leaving his kingdom in good hooves. There was no better pony to take his place than Fancy Pants. Sometimes, Blueblood had seen Fancy Pants be a bit hesitant for moral reasons to do what was necessary to win the war, but out of all of Blueblood’s advisors, Fancy Pants was certainly the most reliable, clear-headed, and loyal.
He just wanted to give him one last set of instructions.
“Horn… here…” said Blueblood, glancing with his eyes up at his own horn. Fancy Pants hesitated for a moment, and then realized what Blueblood wanted.
Though unicorns could communicate with each other through telepathy, and could convey words along with sights, smells, tastes, and sounds by connecting horns, most unicorns still preferred talking verbally. Telepathy was seen as intimate, and mostly used only among siblings, parents and their children, spouses, partners, and very close friends. It was a shame, because telepathy was vastly more efficient than verbal conversations, and didn’t necessarily need to be intimate or viewed as such. It had been a social norm that Blueblood had tried to change, but with only limited success. Most ponies just weren’t comfortable with it.
Fancy Pants brought his horn to Blueblood’s, and a magical arc raced between them. Thankfully, magic was sanitary, and it was impossible to transmit a disease through telepathy.
Fancy Pants, Blueblood said to him in his head, I am dying. You will take control of the Second Kingdom as the interim president, and declare presidential and congressional elections to reflect the public’s will. The unicorns may plot their own course. Declare a cease-fire, negotiate for food, and/or sign a treaty to end the war, and do what you have to do to ensure that our people don’t starve. But never sacrifice unicorn independence for anything.
If necessary, threaten to kill the captives at Chupacabra Stadium to ensure that Equestria does not take our independence; that is what they’re there for. Follow through if you must. When the negotiations come, give up Mareicopa if you must, to ensure peace and Canterlot’s continued existence... but you must never let Canterlot fall back into Equestrian hooves as long as you draw breath, starvation or not. Our people will eat wood and paper if they must, just so that there is at least one city in the world where unicorns can live free. The existence of an independent, unicorns-only Canterlot is non-negotiable.
Of course, Fancy Pants replied. I will never give up Canterlot.
Thank you, Fancy Pants. I trust that you will not let down the unicorn race. I have the utmost faith in you as my second-in-command, and as a personal friend. It has been a pleasure knowing you all these years.
Likewise, said Fancy Pants. Goodbye, King Blueblood.
Fancy Pants drew back his horn and the arc of light terminated. Bluebood coughed weakly, as his minister left the room. He tried to cough again, but it was no use. His throat was already hoarse and dry as a bone from coughing the first day that he fell ill, when he’d still had energy.
Heat consumed his body like a blazing inferno. Somehow, he knew that when he closed his eyes, that would be it. His heart raced. There was no hereafter, nothing to look forward to but a hole in the ground. All he had was the impact that he had made in his time alive.
He had his regrets as the leader of the unicorns. He had his fears that Canterlot would be subjugated by Equestria once more. But in all of the agony and fear of his illness, he had one sliver of hope. Fancy Pants would continue after Blueblood, and would never betray his vision. He would never betray the unicorn race.
Blueblood closed his eyes, never to open them again.
Fancy Pants felt a bittersweet surge of emotions as the doctor pronounced Blueblood dead. For one, he was sad to see an old friend of his pass away. But he also was glad that he could end the unconscionable internment.
“Time of death, 7:21 AM,” said the doctor.
Fancy Pants telephoned one of Blueblood’s advisors. Well, one of his advisors, now. He explained that Blueblood had passed away, and that he needed to be sworn in as the new president at once. Since Fancy Pants had no royal blood as Blueblood did, he would merely go by “President” rather than King. The Second Kingdom would really no longer be an applicable name, either, since there was no king anymore. Perhaps the Second Republic, since it was indeed a republic. But then what was the first republic? Certainly not Equestria.
As he glanced towards the door, he grinned. Though he still had to worry about rogue assassins like Pumpkin Cake, no Equestrian spies would make attempts on his life, since he was their stallion. So, he could give his inaugural address in public. Outside, under the warm sun. Just the thought of it gave him goosebumps.
The sun hung high in the air, its warm rays beating down on palm trees and ferns. A pterodactyl stood in a tree, screeching. Brontosauri reached out with their long necks to munch on leaves from trees. The images came flooding to Pumpkin Cake’s mind, as an arc of blue light raced from an elderly, tan-coated unicorn stallion’s horn to hers.
“What am I looking at, Professor Fossil?” asked Pumpkin Cake. “Where is this?”
“This is Mareicopa,” said the stallion. “Or at least, it was Mareicopa, millions of years ago, when it was a lush jungle instead of a desert city, before ponykind and other mammals evolved.”
“How do you know this is what it looked like?”
Professor Fossil smiled, his grey mustache upturning. “Because I’ve been there myself. I’m not just a paleontologist: I’m a time traveler.”
Pumpkin Cake raised an eyebrow. “Then what are we even doing here? Just go back in time and kill Blueblood before he ordered the internment, and it never would have happened anyway.”
Professor Fossil shook his head, sighing. “I’m afraid that it doesn’t work like that, young lady. I can understand your ignorance though, since that is such a common misconception. Time travelers may interact with ponies in the past, but the past is still like a fossil: set in stone. For instance, were I to try to shoot Blueblood, perhaps my gun would misfire, or I’d accidentally shoot the wrong pony, or his guards would shoot me first. Time travel can never be used to alter a condition in the present that was extant when you traveled back, for that would create a paradox: how could you go back to stop an event that you already stopped? All assassination attempts against Blueblood by time travelers must necessarily have failed, and will always fail.”
Pumpkin understood. “So you can can’t use time travel to create a paradox.”
Professor Fossil nodded. “And you can’t travel forward in time, only back. Most time-traveling unicorns can only go a decade back at most… but my special talent allows me to travel eons into the past. Of course, in Equestria, time travel spells are outlawed, with an exemption only for research purposes, and then only for graduates of Princess Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns, now-defunct. I didn’t attend that school, so it was only under Second Kingdom rule that I was finally able to publish research papers at the University of Mareicopa based off of my personal observations of the past.”
“Why are they outlawed? If they can’t be used to actually change the past, then what’s the harm?” asked Pumpkin.
Professor Fossil said, “One reason: ignorance. Cryptic travelers would arrive from the future wearing strange clothes, with dire warnings, sending ponies into panics. The public failed to realize that whatever events the ponies were warning about were unavoidable. Sometimes, the very act of trying to avoid the event was precisely what caused it to begin with! Thus, time travel was banned.”
Pumpkin nodded. “I see. I still don’t know why you’re showing me Mareicopa in the past, though.”
“Look more closely,” said Professor Fossil.
More images came flooding to Pumpkin’s mind. In addition to the dinosaurs, there were also insects the size of ponies: with spines on their segmented backs, giant mouths, and chitinous exoskeletons. They had giant compound eyes, and lived in a vast underground network of tunnels, coming out in packs to take out larger prey. A brontosaurus fell to seven of them, his hide red and bloodied. The creatures returned to their cave with their kill, carting the giant body away with their great strength.
“The chupacabras were not mammals or reptiles as the legends say, but rather, arthropods similar to ants or changelings,” said Professor Fossil. “In fact, chupacabras were the ancestors of changelings, and they would later would evolve the ability to change their appearance and prey on love rather than meat. The chupacabras dug vast underground networks of tunnels. Chupacabra Stadium is aptly named, for it is built atop a gigantic, ancient chupacabra mound. But the tunnels have been sealed by igneous rock for millennia, buried under the great lava flows that seeped from the southern badlands when the volcanoes erupted.”
Pumpkin watched as trees were set aflame, dinosaurs burned, and the air filled with sulfuric smog that gave off a stench so potent that it made her gag, even though she only ‘smelled’ it through telepathy. The chupacabra caves were plowed under by the steamroller of lava. The beasts, all so ferocious before, perished from suffocation in a matter of seconds, their chitin burning from the extreme heat. But the lava was not viscous enough to flow into the tunnels, merely cover the entrances over. The flows left only a flat, barren land.
Many millions of years passed, as the blackened crust of the lava slowly covered in sediment, forming the Palomino desert. New forms of life cropped up: rattlesnakes, prairie dogs, and eventually, ponies. Wooden shacks and saloons stood atop the sand, atop the dried lava flows, atop the covered caverns. The city grew like a boil as the most recent century came and went. And then, a mere forty years ago, the stadium was erected, and the Mareicopa Chupacabras played their first hoofball game. A much younger Professor Fossil sat in the stands, cheering them on, his voice merely one of many in the roaring crowd of thousands.
“I have studied chupacabras extensively,” said Professor Fossil. “It is rather difficult, as I can only travel to the past for a few minutes at a time before I am whisked back to the present, and the spell is too difficult to cast very often. But I discovered that the chupacabras made massive tunnel networks, with interior caverns large enough to hold entire dinosaurs that they had killed. The caverns are a mere thirty feet below the stadium. Isn’t paleontology fascinating?”
Pumpkin Cake nodded. Much as a paleontologist would piece together bones to create a giant skeleton of an ancient dinosaur, yet another piece had fallen into place in her formative plan to rescue the hostages.
“I, Fancy Pants, do hereby solemnly swear to uphold the laws of the Second Kingdom of Canterlot, to protect and preserve the freedom and dignity of the unicorn master race, and to protect my people from all threats foreign and domestic.”
He held his hoof to the constitution of the Second Kingdom, which the black-robed chief justice held in his magic.
“Having duly witnessed the lawful transfer of executive power, I affirm that it now resides with the new President Fancy Pants,” said the judge.
There was muted, scattered applause in the large crowd which had gathered under the sunny midday skies on the front lawn of the presidential palace in Canterlot. Many unicorns were still crying from the news of King Blueblood’s death. Some had skeptical looks on their faces. Who was this ‘Fancy Pants’, they must have wondered, who only a day ago was a mere propaganda minister, and merely a year ago was in line behind three other ponies to succeed the presidency? Still others hadn’t eaten in many hours or days, and were too distracted by their hunger to applaud. A few of them leaned down to munch on the grass when the guards weren’t looking.
“Thank you, chief justice,” said Fancy Pants, standing behind the podium on the steps to the presidential palace. He kept a somber look upon his face. “And thank you, Canterlot. It is with great sadness that I assume the office of the presidency, but circumstances and fate have led me to take on this role. Let us have a moment of silence to honor King Blueblood’s memory.”
The crowd remained dead silent for a minute.
Fancy Pants spoke once more, “Now, as a fellow member of King Blueblood’s Unicorn Freedom Movement party, the voters who elected him can be assured that I will maintain many of his same policies. All magic may still be freely used by all unicorns in ways not otherwise prohibited by non-magic-related laws. All unicorn mares and stallions shall be encouraged to propagate the unicorn race, and incentives will still be available for fruitful couples. Our veterans returning from the front lines will continue to receive our respect, admiration, and full support to reintegrate into civilian life. The state will maintain control of key industries, such as healthcare, food, and armaments, necessary to the support our nation and our race. And, of course, the city of Canterlot will remain unicorns-only.”
There was more applause, louder than last time, though still over half of the ponies weren’t clapping. Just one issue was on many of their minds: food.
Fancy Pants continued, “That being said, there is one policy of former President Blueblood’s that I wish to reverse, as was his last request. The city of Canterlot is starving, our crops destroyed by pegasi, all imports of food cut off due to the war. Though I fully support the former president’s decision to make the unicorns self-sufficient in farming, the war has temporarily prevented this. How can we be self-sustaining as a nation when we continue a war with Equestria that depletes our food, stallions, and treasury? I posit that we cannot.”
There were murmurs in the crowd.
“Thus, I am announcing the start of a peace dialogue between the Second Kingdom and Equestria. There will be talks between myself and Princess Twilight in regards to a cease-fire, which I hope will eventually become a permanent treaty. I will end this terrible, fratricidal war which has cost so many lives and caused so much suffering. I can promise you that Canterlot will remain independent from Equestria with the Unicorn Freedom Movement’s domestic policies intact, no matter what the outcome of this treaty.”
The crowd cheered.
“The unicorn race is strong and resilient. We have fought a war against an army over five times the size of ours, and managed to hold them to a stalemate. But now, the time has come for tranquility to prevail. We shall live in harmony with Equestria, and remain an independent unicorn state. We shall have peace in our land, pride in our race, and food on our tables!”
The crowd roared with approval, ponies stomping their hooves and throwing their hats into the air.
After the crowd had dispersed, Fancy Pants walked back up the steps, heading inside of the presidential palace, where he determined to live instead of the bunker. He could not appear weak like Blueblood had by staying in seclusion. Besides, his security detail was quite capable against all but the most powerful potential assassins. They could even stop invisible ponies.
He retreated into his bedroom, three times larger than the one in the bunker. It had two large windows: one that looked out into the city, and another that directly overlooked Equestria down below Canterlot Mountain. Blueblood’s personal items were still hanging on the walls, including a giant self-portrait and other decorations. Above a mahogany dresser, a mirror reflected the sunlight that streamed in the windows.
Fancy Pants collapsed onto Blueblood’s bed—his bed now—as his head spun, hit with a realization much harder than the goosefeather pillow and downy comforter. He was now the president, and had successfully assassinated Blueblood, with nopony the wiser! Now he just had to negotiate the peace deal with Twilight Sparkle, and end the famine and the war.
“Good speech. I couldn’t have done any better if I had helped you write it myself. Oh, wait… I did.”
Fancy Pants turned towards his open bedroom door, which closed itself as Amethyst Star became visible. He walked over and hugged her, and they kissed.
“I’m so glad to see you again, Amethyst Star. That bunker was so lonely. Did you have any trouble sneaking past my security?” he asked.
Agent Sparkler shook her head. “Those secret passages you told me about got me into the palace just fine, Mister President.”
Fancy Pants chuckled. “Is it odd that it still sounds weird to hear ponies call me that?”
She laughed back. “If that’s the only thing that’s gone wrong with our plan so far, we’d be lucky.”
“I would hope so. But the internment is a problem. As we discussed, I can’t simply set all of the captives free, not right when Equestria and the SK are about to negotiate a treaty, or I would look weak by giving up our only bargaining chip, and any goodwill from the public of Canterlot would evaporate—”
“I’ve resolved that little sticking point,” said Amethyst Star. “Remember Pumpkin Cake?”
Fancy Pants’ head jolted up. “Pumpkin Cake, the young mare who tried to rip my heart from my chest?”
Sparkler rolled her eyes. “No, pumpkin cake the dessert. Yes, that Pumpkin Cake, you dork! She’s helping to free those ponies. We’re working hard on a plan, and it should be ready in a week or so. She and I buried the hatchet, and I don’t think that she’ll try to kill you again.”
“That’s a tremendous relief, if true,” said Fancy Pants. “But how do you know her plan will work?”
Sparkler smiled. “Because I’m helping her.”
The long rows of trees in the orchards near Horseshoe Bay stood, some harvested, some unharvested. Ponies picked oranges, sweating profusely in the afternoon sun. Even in October, it was always sweltering this far south. A sweet, fruity smell filled the air as the fruit pickers loaded the oranges into boxes, and loaded those boxes into the backs of wooden carts, which they hitched to muscle-bound earth stallions who took them back to the warehouse.
Harvests happened every year, but this year there was a change: dozens of ponies stood by the side of the dirt road leading up to the orchards. They held picket signs and chanted in protest.
“Reasonable wages for hard work!”
“I can’t raise a child. Institute paid maternity leave!”
“I don’t make enough to buy the oranges that I pick! End employee hunger!”
These ponies were local workers from the fields who had gone on strike to protest their working conditions. The Growers and Pickers Union was unaffiliated with Pound Cake or Equestrians For Action. But the EFA had sent ponies to show its solidarity with the union. This was especially important, because the newly-appointed Equestrian special prosecutor on corruption was expected to indict the Oranges within a few months. A protest would show the public’s support for the charges. The EFA ponies stood in a line right next to the union strikers’ picket line, wearing blue shirts and holding protest signs as well, but their signs and chants said slightly different things than the unions’ signs had said.
“Orange Incorporated Are Traitors!”
“You sold Equestria out to the highest bidder!”
“Stop the corrupt food monopoly! Save independent farmers! No patenting orange breeds!”
Obviously, the corruption that the EFA was upset about was a different issue than the labor dispute that the Pickers Union was upset about. In Pound Cake’s view, though, they were related. They were different fruits of the same rotten tree: greed. The same greedy company which would sell food to the enemy for profit, or would bribe public officials, would also make its workers work in harsh conditions for low wages, he reasoned.
After surveying the scene from the air, and satisfied with the high turnout, Pound Cake returned to where his friends stood. Because it was a public road, the security personnel at the orchard couldn't really do anything. Even though they complained about the protest, the protesters were fully within their legal rights. None were carrying weapons, with the exception of Pound Cake’s personal security team, which kept them concealed. This wasn’t a military operation like in the Flatlands, and there was no need to cause an incident.
Applejack had asked the EFA not to come, saying that it would disrupt harvesting season for them to be there. As much as Pound Cake considered Applejack a close friend, he had to respectfully disagree with her, and bring his group. They were merely standing by the road, causing no disruption to the company’s operations other than shouting loudly.
“I’m a manager at the orchard, Pound Cake; I think I’d know that y’all’s protest is disturbin’ things around here,” she had argued.
Pound knew that Applejack had a conflict of interest. Though she opposed corruption and dishonesty in principle, the Oranges were still family, and they still were her employers. So he refused to capitulate to her.
Pound Cake stood with Bulky Biceps, Raindrops, Rainbow Dash, Hoops, and Dumbbell. Due to an obligation at his salt factory, Featherweight had been unable to attend. Dozens of unicorns and earth ponies also stood there. For example, a musical duo had joined the EFA. They were the mint green unicorn Lyra Heartstrings and her cream-colored earth pony friend Bon Bon, and together they were the folk duo Heartstrings & Bon Bon.
A lyre floated in Lyra’s magic, and a set of bongos sat in Bon-Bon’s lap. Lyra strummed along to the beat of Bon Bon’s bongos as they both sang a protest song, harmonizing together.
How many days must the ponies stand out, with their voices raised as they scream and shout for the system of greed and corruption to change? There must be the dawn of a new, brighter day.
There’s got to be There’s got to be There’s got to be a way.
The ponies all clapped.
“Great song,” Pound Cake exclaimed.
“Thanks,” said Bon Bon, grinning.
Lyra smiled widely. “We’re glad you like it. Took us a while to write it, but I think it captures what we’re trying to say pretty well.”
Pound Cake was happy to have such dedicated ponies on his side. With ponies like these, the EFA would really make a change. He was confident.
Another hour or so passed, as the union picketers continued their labor strike, and the EFA continued their corruption protest. The two groups were friendly and broke for lunch together. The only ponies they were unfriendly towards were the workers who had refused to join the strike, or the scabs who had been temporarily hired to replace the strikers. Given that their jobs were unskilled labor, it was easy to break a strike, and hence they were rare.
One such worker, Big Macintosh, was pulling a cart full of orange crates behind him. He took Pound Cake aside.
“Uh… hi, Pound,” he muttered with a shy tone.
“Hey, Big Mac,” said Pound Cake.
Unlike his sister, Big Macintosh had always refused a management job. Though he was nearly forty years old, and other ponies had encouraged him to start a ‘real career,’ he was content to do manual labor. After all, he had never been well-spoken, something required for managers, and he rather enjoyed a good day’s hard, honest work. But given his many years of service, and his sister’s position, he was still the best-paid fruit picker at Orange Incorporated. So he had little reason to participate in the strike and put his job in jeopardy.
Big Macintosh looked around to ensure that nopony was in earshot. Then, he turned to Pound and said, “They’re shippin’ to the SK today, by air. We’re haulin’ crates to the hangar right now.”
Pound’s jaw dropped. The Equestrian prosecutor was supposed to put a stop to this. There were supposed to be government monitors stationed at the distribution centers to ensure all shipments were only destined to Equestria or other friendly nations. How could Orange Incorporated be shipping food to the Second Kingdom?
As if reading his mind and anticipating the inevitable flurry of Pound’s questions, Big Macintosh shrugged. “ I’ve seen Peachy Pitt there and figured there was no other reason. That’s all I know.”
Pound Cake nodded. “Thanks, Big Macintosh.”
“Eeyup.”
Pound Cake glanced back at the protest, still going strong. He figured he would leave them to it. So he took off into the air, flying off towards the hangar.
“Pound, dude, wait up!”
He turned around as Hoops and Dumbbell were following in the sky behind him. They had joined his security team now, under Bulky Biceps.
“You can’t leave without your security like that,” said Hoops. “You could totally get assassinated!”
“It’s like you’re trying to get killed,” said Dumbbell.
“Sorry,” said Pound, shrugging. “I had something I had to go do that was important.”
“Well you gotta let us come with you, ‘cause we have guns,” said Dumbbell, motioning with his hoof to a slight bulge under his blue EFA t-shirt.
Pound Cake sighed. Hoops and Dumbbell weren’t as slow of flyers as Bulky Biceps was, but they still could barely keep the pace with him. Though then again, very few pegasi could.
“Okay, but try to keep up; this is urgent,” said Pound impatiently.
Hoops and Dumbbell nodded, and flew until their sweat droplets were flung off of them, down to the earth like rain from the sky above. Since Pound was in such good shape, he didn’t sweat as much, but he recognized when ponies were hustling and giving it their all. His two security stallions certainly were, and they made it to the hangar on the other side of the orchards in under five minutes.
Finally, they reached the hangar. Oranges weren’t normally transported by air due to it being cost-prohibitive, and the hangar usually only held crop dusters. So the giant, grey cargo plane of about fifty cubic meters stuck out. It was already on the tarmac, taxiing towards the runway. Based off of the direction it was pointing, it was headed right towards the Second Kingdom.
“Where are the Equestrian inspectors? They should be here to stop this!” Pound exclaimed.
“Uh, they’re here, but I don’t think they’re stopping it,” said Dumbbell. He pointed his hoof towards the hangar, where a black station wagon sat parked outside. It was an official Equestrian government vehicle, but the inspectors weren’t in it. Instead, from this high up, they could just barely witness the two well-dressed mares sitting outside, smoking cigarettes. Next to them was a unicorn mare. Peachy Pitt. She opened a briefcase, where a bunch of golden bits twinkled in the sunlight.
The mares gigled with glee at their new money.
“Crooked!” Dumbbell exclaimed. He zoomed down, a furious scowl on his face as he zeroed in on them.
“Dumbbell! Come back!” Hoops exclaimed. He followed his friend, who by now, had whacked over the briefcase, spilling out dozens and dozens of bits onto the ground. Peachy Pitt disappeared in a flash. The inspectors screamed as Dumbbell pointed accusingly at the cash.
“This is a citizens’ arrest for bribery!” he exclaimed, angrily lunging forwards towards the mares. Hoops had now arrived, and put his hooves on Dumbbell, trying to restrain him.
Pound had no idea what to do while all of this was occurring, but as he was watching the altercation, the cargo plane started speeding down the runway. He jolted as he noticed it out of the corner of his eye.
“Hoops! Dumbbell! Come on!” he urged. They didn’t answer him, as they were too distracted. He waited a minute as the scuffle below continued, and ponies ran out of the hangar towards them. They were Orange Incorporated security. Hopefully they didn’t have guns. Pound certainly didn’t, and he wasn’t about to bring his hooves to a gunfight and intervene to save his security staff. That was their job!
Meanwhile, the plane had already taken off, and was gaining distance. Pound shook his head and zoomed towards the departing plane. He would have to stop this shipment by himself, without his security, and they’d have to fend for themselves.
From down behind him, he heard gunfire. Perhaps a pony at the hangar was shooting up in the sky at Pound, or perhaps Hoops and Dumbbell had gotten into a firefight. Pound couldn’t tell. But now, he was within half a kilometer of the cargo plane.
He put his hooves out in front of him as he gained altitude on the plane, the warm air growing cooler. This plane would go down in a blast. It was close enough to the ground still to where the pilots inside could eject safely without dying, and he would ensure that he did the rainboom far enough away from the plane not to injure them, merely ground their plane.
It’s about to rain orange juice! he thought.
Three hundred meters. Two hundred meters. One hundred…
Suddenly, there was a great cloud of black smoke erupt from the back of the plane. Pound Cake tried to avoid it, but was going to fast. His lungs filled with acrid fumes as his eyes went wet with tears. He could no longer see the plane. Had it crashed? Had it been shot down? He didn’t know. He had to slow down and stop flying, because his lungs now burned from the smoke, and he wasn’t getting enough oxygen supply to his muscles.
He descended slowly back towards the ground, coughing and hacking. As he gazed back up to the sky, his heart sank.
The plane was just fine, and still continuing towards the SK. It had merely released a smoke bomb. The pilots must have known Pound was coming after them, and did it to get him off of their tail. And now, he was in no condition to follow after inhaling all of that smoke. No pegasus would be in good shape after that, but for Pound it was worse since he had a smoke allergy. Rainbow Dash had banned tobacco smoking from the EFA offices for that reason.
His lungs ached and he hacked and wheezed as he returned to the ground. Off in the distance, a police siren wailed. No doubt the police had arrived to break up the fight between Hoops and Dumbbell and the Orange Incorporated Security. Pound’s security duo would probably be arrested and charged with assaulting and threatening public officials. Great. Just what he needed.
As for the cargo plane, it had gotten away.
That evening, General Top Brass sat in his office at the airbase on the outskirts of Canterlot, absolutely dumbstruck as the new President Fancy Pants’ speech played over the radio. Peace with Equestria? Admitting there was a famine against all prior government denials of it? Stop the “fratricidal” war? Was he listening to the new president of the Second Kingdom, or an Equestrian apologist?
There was a time and place in war for negotiated surrender, but Blueblood would never have announced his country’s weaknesses or his intentions to surrender in public. But here was Fancy Pants spilling his heart. Sure, he was promising that he wouldn’t give up Canterlot’s independence, and didn’t say the “s-word,” but the mere act of asking for peace and mentioning starvation in the same breath meant that Equestria got to dictate the terms of the treaty since they held the leverage: food. Fancy Pants might as well have been promising surrender. But did they need to surrender?
No. Not when they were so close to winning. Not when the Zebra Empire had just defeated the griffons, and would overtake the west coast any day now. Not when they had 70,000 earth ponies and pegasi in Mareicopa to use as a bargaining chip for food. Though Top Brass’ plan to capture grain silos had failed, they would find some way. He was a master strategist, and would not be defeated.
There was a knock on his office door.
“Come in.”
Peachy Pitt stepped inside. Her normal upbeat smirk had vanished, and her eyeliner was smeared from tears. Some ponies had taken news of King Blueblood’s death harder than others. To Peachy Pitt, Blueblood had always been an inspiration and a hero, a leader up on the mountain overlooking Ponyville, to be admired for his work for the unicorns. To Top Brass, though, Blueblood had been merely a partner. Even though he had been a Prince of Equestria and then a king of the Second Kingdom, Top Brass merely saw Blueblood as an equal.
After all, it was only because of Top Brass pledging his Royal Guard battalions to Blueblood in Canterlot many years ago that Canterlot was able to win its independence in the first place, and Blueblood had always owed his position to Top Brass. Blueblood’s death still shook Top Brass, but not in the same way that it shook Peachy Pitt.
“Hello, General,” said Peachy Pitt in an upbeat tone that clashed with her running eyeliner. “Good news! We’ve just gotten in the first clandestine shipment from Orange Incorporated. A thousand crates of juicy, freshly-harvested oranges. The stealth planes worked according to plan, and once we left Horseshoe Bay there wasn’t any danger of being detected. By nightfall, nopony saw us cross the border. But it was a living nightmare to get out of the freaking orchard! It would’ve been easier to sneak out of a prison. Not only does Twilight Sparkle have her anti-corruption officers there searching through everything, but there is this other group there, too, holding signs and picketing… the FEA or AFE, or maybe EFA I think it was. Some sort of alphabet soup name like that.”
The General nodded. “That would be EFA. I know the group well; they’re a paramilitary we fought up in Neighbraska a few days ago. But I’m glad that you weren’t intercepted.”
“Yeah. It was murder getting out of there!” Peachy Pitt chuckled.
Murder.
It hit Top Brass. Blueblood didn’t die of the flu. He had been killed. Deliberately infected with a disease and left to die in a way that looked natural, by a pony close enough to have poisoned him without arousing suspicion. A pony who was at the cabinet meetings with Blueblood every single day, so knew about the internment at Mareicopa and the last-ditch raid on Neighbraska, both of which had been revealed to the Equestrians. A pony who had always shown hesitation and weakness in the meetings. A pony who had always been just a little too nice, even when dealing with the enemy Equestrians.
Fancy Pants. He had killed Blueblood to take his place, and was an Equestrian sympathizer who would surrender and give up the Second Kingdom’s independence. Of course.
“...every last drop of juice, and even the rinds, because we can’t have wasteful habits in the middle of a—”
“Peachy Pitt,” Top Brass interrupted. “Where will the oranges go?”
Peachy Pitt answered, “Five hundred boxes will go to the troops, and the rest are going to go to Canterlot to feed the president and his officials, the nobles, factory managers, and all of the—”
“No they aren’t,” said Top Brass. “They’re all staying right here on base or going out to the front lines for my troops on the battlefield to eat. Not a single orange leaves here until I tell you otherwise. Understand?”
Peachy blinked. “Uh… what are you saying? That’s not what Fancy Pants directed.”
Top Brass stood out of his chair and walked right up to Peachy Pitt, staring her right in the face.
“Fancy Pants is a race traitor who killed Blueblood so that he could ascend to power and surrender our independence to Equestria. You are either on his side or mine. Whose side?”
“Uh…” Peachy Pitt started, a puzzled look on her face.
“Whose side? Tell me!” Top Brass barked.
“Y-yours, General,” said Peachy, quite confused.
Top Brass nodded. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Now, you are going to help ration these thousand crates of oranges among my soldiers. I am going to take my strongest, most well-fed stallions to Canterlot with me tomorrow morning. It’s time to clean up the traitors in our midst.”
Fancy Pants and Amethyst Star lie in his king-sized bed together, both sound asleep as the morning sun peeked over Canterlot’s mountaintop. Suddenly, the bedroom shook. Sparkler’s head jolted off the pillow as gunfire and shots rang out in the distance.
She got up off the bed and rushed over to the window overlooking Canterlot. Tanks rolled down every street, their barrels pointed towards the presidential palace. Armored personnel carriers followed closely behind. In the courtyard to the palace, gunfire and explosions rang out as the presidential guards took cover behind ornate shrubs, ducking as dozens of uniformed Second Kingdom soldiers fired on them with machine guns.
In Agent Sparkler’s many years at the Royal Institute of Secret Knowledge, she had been all over the world, from Neighcaragua to Hayti, Irein to Ewekraine, witnessing—and often aiding in—many covert regime change operations. So she knew a coup d’etat when she saw one. And this certainly fit the bill.
“What in the world is all of that hullabaloo outside, Amethyst?” Fancy Pants asked groggily, stretching out his hooves. “Is it the Equestrian military? Are we under attack?”
“No, you’re under attack. It’s a military coup.”
Fancy Pants sat up in bed. “But how do you know that it’s indeed a…”
Sparkler’s eyebrows narrowed at Fancy Pants, and he blushed.
“We have to get you out of here. They’re out on the lawn right now, and are about to storm the presidential palace. If you’re lucky, they’ll let you live the rest of your life in jail. If you’re unlucky, they’ll kill you.”
Fancy Pants sprung out of bed, going to his dresser to put on his fancy suit, as if he even needed it. “Alright, open the window and I’ll teleport out, I think I can make it just past fifteenth street—”
Sparkler shook her head. “No. We’re going to sneak out. Who knows how many troops they have in the streets. We don’t want you seen in public by anypony. We’re going invisible.”
“I thought that you said that you can’t turn other ponies invisible with you since it’s such a difficult spell.”
“You’re right, I can’t,” said Sparkler, her horn lighting up as she disappeared.
Suddenly, Fancy Pants found himself enveloped in a purple field of magic. He shrank in size as his blue mane disappeared, long whiskers sprouted from his nose, and a few claws burst forth from each hoof. His suit jacket fell to the floor around him, now five times his size.
“But you’re not a pony at the moment. I can turn smaller objects invisible no problem, remember? Now come on.”
The mouse squeaked in protest, unable to form words, and also adjusting to his new keen sense of hearing, to which Sparkler’s voice sounded as loud as the ongoing explosions outside.
Sparkler groaned. “Jeeze, I’m saving your life; you’d think I’d at least get a thank-you or something. Now let’s go,” she said, levitating Fancy Mouse onto her back. Sure enough, he turned invisible as soon as he touched her.
“Now hang on, and try not to dig your claws too far into my skin.”
Suddenly, the door to the room burst open as two stallions kicked it down, their guns drawn as they scanned the room. One of them ran off to check the closet, and Sparkler stood perfectly still.
“He’s not in his room, either,” said one of the stallions to his commanding officer, who was standing in the door.
General Top Brass sighed. “That’s every room in the palace, then. He must have escaped, but he won’t get far, since we’ve sealed off the exits of town. Though even if we never catch him, I doubt he’ll be much of a threat once I publicly expose him as a traitor.”
“Nice room he’s got, too,” said Peachy Pitt, who walked in. “Shame he only got to sleep in it for one night. Hope he enjoyed it while it lasted.”
Once Top Brass and Peachy Pitt had left, Sparkler snuck past them in the hallways, trying not to make any sound on the marble floor. By this point, the explosions and gunfire had subsided, so they had to tread lightly. Fancy Pants was as quiet as the mouse that he was, resisting the urge to panic. They rounded into the ornate hallway leading up to the foyer, where soldiers stood guard with assault rifles.
Finally, after ten minutes of sneaking, they were outside on a rather chilly, overcast morning. Sparkler continued down the lawn, weaving in and out of tanks that were now parked on it, not bothering to be as slow or quiet as she’d been inside. Once they were on the street in front of the presidential palace, Sparkler hurried up to a walking pace, not concerned that the clip-clop of her hooves on the cobblestone was making noise, because there were so many ponies gathered to see what the commotion was, that nopony would notice.
When Sparkler was on a part of the street where she was alone, she whispered, “We have about thirty minutes left until that transfiguration spell wears off and you turn back into a pony again. I can get us to a safehouse down on the corner of Founders’ Street and Apex Drive in under ten. I say we use the twenty extra minutes to stand here and see if Top Brass gives a speech.”
Fancy Pants nodded his little mouse head.
Sure enough, the General emerged from the palace about five minutes later, after a large crowd had already gathered. News reporters arrived on the scene, snapping pictures of the tanks on the lawn and the dead bodies of presidential security staff which still lay on the ground.
“Citizens of the Second Kingdom!” General Top Brass shouted. “Yesterday morning, our leader King Blueblood died. A weak, traitorous cretin named Fancy Pants assumed the presidency. Fancy Pants, who was responsible for President Blueblood’s death, declared that he would negotiate a peace with Equestria to fix the famines now gripping the unicorn nation. In reality, he is a traitorous assassin: an Equestrian puppet who will bring down this nation from within and surrender our independence to Equestria. The brave, loyal military has deposed him, so the unicorn nation will live on forever!”
There was scattered applause, much of which came from Top Brass’ own troops. Mostly, there were murmurs and questions. Was Fancy Pants truly a traitor, or was this just a military power grab by Top Brass? How would the famine be ended, if not by a peace deal with Equestria?
“I know that some of you are skeptical,” Top Brass continued. “How can the famines be ended without negotiating a peace treaty, if not outright surrender, with Equestria? It seems to be the only option, but there’s another way. By now, it’s an open secret that Chupacabra Stadium in Mareicopa now holds 70,000 earth ponies and pegasi. I can officially confirm this. I give an ultimatum to Princess Twilight Sparkle: if your pegasi will kill our unicorns by salting our food and starving us to death, then we will kill your pegasi and earth ponies!
“We don’t want to commit mass murder, but we will if we must. To avoid this catastrophe, there will be an immediate cease-fire at once, with food provided to us by Equestria to compensate us for the food that your pegasi destroyed. The food trade restrictions will be lifted. You have twenty-four hours from noon today to comply. Every day that you do not, we will kill ten thousand ponies, starting tomorrow at noon. Don’t make this difficult, Princess Twilight. Avoid the tragedy, not just for the Second Kingdom’s citizens, but yours as well. The entire continent is counting on you.”
The speech ended to somber, lukewarm applause, with not many unicorns eager to slaughter Equestrians by the thousands, but with many unicorns simply eager to eat no matter how they got their food. As before, the army applauded the loudest, with some even cheering.
Sparkler continued down the street with Fancy Pants until she reached the safe-house, a small two-story building a few blocks away. She retrieved a hidden key and unlocked the door. When nopony on the street was looking, she entered the room and pulled the blinds shut with magic.
It was just in time, since at that moment, the spell on Fancy Pants wore off. Unlike the initial transformation, which had taken a few minutes to go from pony to mouse, the transformation back into a pony was instantaneous, like a rubber band snapping apart. Fancy Pants simply exploded back into his regular size with a pop, nearly knocking Sparkler to the ground with his increased weight on her back. But he had the presence of mind to levitate himself off, and back to his hooves, before she fell down.
“I say, you cut it awfully close with that,” said Fancy Pants.
“Sorry,” said Sparkler, turning visible once more. “I tried to make it last longer, but I’m not good at transformation spells. I spend most of my time with invisibility, since it’s easier to spy as an invisible pony than a small critter. Being a mouse is good for getting into small spaces, though.”
Fancy Pants nodded. “So, what happens now? I’m a wanted stallion, no longer president, and Top Brass is about to kill ten thousand of those hostages. What do we do?”
Sparkler chuckled. “We do what I’m best at. We improvise. You stay here; there’s food and water in the pantry, and a bed on the top floor. If they search the safehouse and you have to go into hiding, there’s a trap-door hidden under the carpet that leads to the cellar. As for me, I have to get to Mareicopa. Looks like our plan to rescue the hostages will have to be accelerated.”
That evening, Pumpkin Cake sat in her bed, her mind racing as she tried to form a plan to rescue those ponies at the stadium. She was pretty sure that she had it right, but what if she didn’t? And there was now a greater sense of urgency than before. Over the radio, earlier that day, she had heard the news that Top Brass had conducted a military coup and would now kill those ponies at the stadium. Pumpkin had tried to meet the invisible mare at the Coffee Cup Cafe at 8:00 PM like she said, but she wasn’t there. Understandable, given that she was probably in damage control mode. Or possibly dead.
Her thoughts were disturbed by a tapping sound. Then another. Somepony was throwing rocks at her bedroom window. She gazed out the window cautiously and saw a shadowy pony standing on the ground below.
“Pumpkin Cake. It’s me. Let me in.”
Pumpkin Cake opened the window, and the invisi-mare teleported in, except for the first time that Pumpkin had seen her, she was visible: with a pink coat and a purple mane with grey streaks in it.
She said, “Change of plans. There’s been a military coup in Canterlot. General Top Brass is threatening to kill ten thousand hostages at the stadium if Twilight Sparkle doesn’t provide food to Canterlot.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Pumpkin.
“We have to rescue those ponies. You have to make your move by tomorrow morning.”
Pumpkin Cake sighed. “This plan wasn’t supposed to happen until next week. We’re not nearly ready yet. Only twenty of my guerrillas had skills we could use for this rescue mission; the rest weren’t good enough. And our plan is bare bones at this point. We haven’t even practiced it yet. Why not have Twilight Sparkle just give Canterlot the food?”
“We can’t have the princess look weak in the face of threats. Appeasement is out.”
Pumpkin said, “Then just send the regular Equestrian army here to free those ponies. Or use your other secret agents. Or just use the partisans that you have who you didn’t put on that list, Invisi-mare.”
The mare chuckled. “Look, just call me Agent Sparkler, okay? Sending in more troops wouldn’t work, because then Top Brass would see them coming and just kill the hostages! Our other RISK field agents can’t be trusted: we’ve been infiltrated by moles. The other partisans won’t work. We need ponies who are magically competent, ones who I’ve already vetted, who already have a plan ready: you guys. You’re these hostages’ only hope. Now tell me what you got.”
Pumpkin nodded. “I see. Well, here’s the basic idea.”
Pumpkin Cake proceeded to tell Agent Sparkler the formative plan. Every few seconds, Sparkler would intervene and say how stupid she thought a particular aspect it sounded, and toss in an idea or two of her own. Eventually, after about half an hour, the two of them had synthesized a plan that they could both agree on.
“Wow. That is the most ridiculous thing that I’ve ever heard in my life, and I helped you come up with half of it myself,” said Sparkler. “But it has to work. There’s no other option.”
Pumpkin shook her head. “Everything would have to go perfectly. And then what do we do, even if our plan succeeds? That will still leave--”
“We’ll worry about it when we have to. We have to prepare now, though,” said Sparkler.
“Sure, and let me just get in about thirty more years of magic training before tomorrow morning, so that I can cast spells powerful enough for this plan to work,” Pumpkin quipped.
“My sarcasm is rubbing off on you, I see,” said Sparkler. “But you and the other guerrillas will have a secret weapon. I’ve been saving this for an emergency, and this surely qualifies.”
Sparkler’s horn lit up, and a 350mL glass vial of blood-red liquid materialized next to her. It was about the size of a soda can.
“This is a magic enhancement potion. Take a sip; just a small one is all you need. There’s enough for all twenty of you.”
Pumpkin scoffed. “Yeah right. Just a few days ago you were trying to have us killed. How do I know that it’s a magic potion, and not poisoned?”
Sparkler sighed. “Look, I’ll drink it just to show you it’s safe, and that it really works. I need some extra magic, too.”
Sparkler took a mouthful of the red liquid, gargled it, and swallowed it, all with her mouth wide open so that Pumpkin could see that she really drank it. Then, she lit up her horn. Everything in the room turned invisible: the bed, bedside table, bookshelf, dresser: even the floor itself. Only Sparkler and Pumpkin were still visible, and it looked like they were standing on air. Pumpkin gasped as she saw down through the floorboards to the first story, but she quickly realized that she wouldn’t fall and the floor was still there.
Pumpkin Cake knew how hard the invisibility spell was to cast, even just on oneself. To turn the contents of an entire room invisible should have been impossible. Given this display, she was sure that Agent Sparkler had actually drank a legitimate potion.
Sparkler floated the potion over to Pumpkin, who took a small sip. It tasted absolutely terrible, like the copper taste of blood mixed with salt. She had to try her best not to spit it out.
“What even is that stuff?” asked Pumpkin, her face scrunched up.
“Call it an energy drink. The zebra chemist Zecora worked on it for RISK, and it’ll temporarily make your magic twenty times stronger.”
“I didn’t know that zebra potions could strengthen unicorn magic,” said Pumpkin Cake. “I used to live with Zecora, and she was my personal trainer in magic for a while. But when I asked her if there was a potion I could take to help me, she told me that her potions couldn’t boost magic.”
“Normally, they can’t,” said Sparkler. “This potion, though, has a secret ingredient.”
“Which is…”
“Secret,” replied Sparkler flatly. “And very, very, very rare. So for goodness’ sake, don’t spill any! I’ll leave it for you to give to your comrades. It works on pegasi and earth ponies too, and enhances their races’ natural magic abilities like flight and strength. But they might not want to drink it if they know it’s from me, since, you know, I tried to have them killed and all. So just make up a lie about where you got it. Anyway, we have work to do. I’m going to go get those supplies that we need for tomorrow.”
Sparkler turned towards the open window and leapt out into the darkness.
Pumpkin wanted to test out the potion. She tried to lift up her bed with telekinesis, which would normally require much effort. It was as light as a feather.
Filled with a giddy sense of adventure, Pumpkin did something that she hadn’t done since she was much younger and lighter weight: she used her levitation magic to float around the room. It wasn’t true flight, though it might as well have been. She effortlessly propelled off the walls like a weightless astronaut, totally free from gravity. Then she glided down the hallway, faster than she could normally walk it.
So this is what it’s like to be Pound Cake, she thought. Whatever that red stuff was, it had given her wings. Well, metaphorically, at least.
She returned to the floor, confident that the potion did indeed work at boosting her magic. Now she just needed to distribute it to the guerrillas, and tell them the rescue plan. It would still be quite a feat for twenty fighters to free seventy thousand captives from the stadium, even with the magic enhancing potion. But at least they now had a fighting chance.
There was a quiet, almost imperceptible snip, as the invisible Amethyst Star deftly maneuvered a pair of scissors to the hair on the tail of a stallion. The lock of hair fell but quickly turned invisible, joining dozens of other locks of invisible hair inside of a plastic bag. The stallion was none the wiser.
Fifty down, hundreds to go, Sparkler thought. At least with the potion she had drank, she could stay invisible all night without taking a break. She went on to the next one.
When Pumpkin Cake had tried to kill Fancy Pants a week ago, Amethyst Star had warned her against making overly-complicated plans, because too many things could go wrong. And yet here she was, trying to help guerrillas that she barely trusted to execute a complex rescue plan, which was itself merely a single part of yet another complex regime change operation. The whole plan had more moving pieces than a grandfather clock. The irony wasn’t lost on Agent Sparkler. But given Top Brass’ unexpected coup and ultimatum, she had been forced to think on her hooves.
Whether the rescue plan would succeed in the morning, Sparkler didn’t know. One thing she knew for sure: the Second Kingdom could never be allowed to put 70,000 ponies through a seven day, drawn-out massacre. The Equestrian public would blame Princesses Twilight Sparkle and Luna for failing to stop it in time. The princesses and General Spitfire were already facing heavy media criticism for their first botched invasion of Mareicopa. If Twilight’s government failed for seven days to either rescue the hostages, or to provide the Second Kingdom with food and save them, it would cause such deep frustrations, that there could be riots break out in every major city.
An official Equestrian army or RISK rescue operation would be impractical for the reasons Sparkler had told Pumpkin, and Twilight could not give into Top Brass’ demands, or else he would just demand more. Appeasement was off the table. Equestria had tried it after the moon stunt, and ended up losing Cloudsdale and Las Pegasus because of it. Princess Twilight and Luna could not look that weak again, and could never give in to Top Brass. If Emperor Zaporizhia saw the princesses cave to threats, then he would be emboldened, and could easily threaten to gas a major Equestrian city like Baltimare with chemical weapons unless Equestria ceded the cities of Tall Tale and Vanhoover to the Zebra Empire.
So that was why, if Pumpkin’s group failed to rescue the ponies alive, Sparkler would do something that she dreaded. If she had to, she would plant explosive charges and blow up the stadium, killing all 70,000 herself on the first day, in a false flag operation that would be made to look like the Second Kingdom had done it. Then, Top Brass would lose his only bargaining chip in one fell swoop and look incompetent for acting too early. Top Brass would get no food, and he would lose his grip on power, because his own military would desert him.
Hopefully it wouldn’t have to come to that. Rescuing the hostages alive would succeed in the same goals, too, and be far more humane. So Sparkler just focused on her present objective and kept snipping locks of hair until the break of dawn.
The sun rose on the city of Mareicopa, reflecting off of the shiny white dome of Chupacabra Stadium. There were twice as many guards there as normal, patrolling the hallways and the exterior, standing on the sidewalks outside, and perched atop the dome. Their haggard, stoic gazes betrayed little of the hunger and hatred that burned within, driving them to such a task as guarding seventy thousand earth ponies and pegasi who, in as little as a few hours, they could very well begin slaughtering.
The guards’ faces were soon overcome by flinching, wincing, and agony as hundreds of them all doubled over on the ground, clutching their chests in pain and screaming. About a minute later, all five hundred guards in and around the stadium were entirely lifeless.
Into the now unguarded lobby, twenty guerrillas from Pumpkin Cake’s group appeared in a single flash. The group had begun calling itself the Mareicopa Resistance, to contrast itself with the Mareicopa Loyalists, the group of Equestrian loyalists which most of the Resistance members had been kicked out of after being betrayed by Agent Sparkler.
Walkabout looked back at his accomplishment, a twenty-pony teleportation a great feat even by his standards. He grinned widely as the uneaten half of a fresh-baked Prench baguette stuck out from between his teeth like a cigar. Unlike some other unicorns living in the Second Kingdom, he never had to worry about going hungry due to his teleportation skills.
“That potion is powerful! Got me brekky in Prance this morning with enough time to spare!” Walkabout exclaimed.
Nurse Redheart surveyed all of the guards who lay on the floor, lifeless. “Not quite the most ethical use for voodoo, but if it saves lives...”
The other four earth pony Resistance doctors and nurses from St. Prancis simply shook their heads. The one unicorn doctor, an oncologist who had performed the mass voodoo execution, shook his head as well, upset over what he had had to do. But it was hard for any of them to feel too sorry for ponies who held others in such squalid conditions, threatening genocide. They stood there for a few moments, nopony speaking.
“Alright, where’s the sound booth so I can get set up?” asked Vinyl Scratch, breaking the silence.
“It’s at the very top near the owners’ box,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Take a left at the mares’ restrooms, then head straight down until you see a black door. Walkabout can take you, if he—”
“Oh, no worries, I just did,” said Walkabout, who had already disappeared with Vinyl in a flash as soon as she asked about the sound booth, and had reappeared in the lobby, all while Pumpkin Cake was giving directions to nopony. Everyone chuckled quietly.
The twenty Resistance members continued on their way towards the field, navigating through the lobby and the long hallways in the vestibule. They stepped over the bodies of guards that they hoped were all truly dead. Just to be sure, Vinyl’s earth bouncer Juan was running ahead of the guerrillas with a silenced machine gun, double-tapping every guard. With the potion enhancing his earth pony stamina, he moved at lightning speeds.
It was perhaps over-cautious, as properly-executed voodoo attacks were almost always lethal, but they didn’t want to take any chances. Meanwhile, the pegasus bouncer Reynaldo flew high above the stadium along with three other Resistance pegasi, keeping watch for reinforcements. The potion improved their reflexes and flight skills.
“Damn, that’s some dank stuff that you gave us, Pumpkin Cake!” a young unicorn stallion, one of Vinyl Scratch’s fans, exclaimed. With his enhanced telekinesis, he was levitating himself through the air, fluttering effortlessly like a butterfly. “Where can I score some?”
Professor Fossil lit up his own horn and pulled the raver back towards the ground, shaking his head.
“And how did you get all of the hair from those guards to make five hundred voodoo dolls?” asked Nurse Redheart. “I thought your power was intangibility, not invisibility.”
“Leave the poor girl alone and quit interrogating her,” Professor Fossil urged. “...Though, I must admit, I’m curious as well.”
Pumpkin answered, “The hair? I got it from the military barber’s trashcan. Luckily all the guards here had just gone in for their haircuts.”
The ponies all nodded, buying the explanation.
“The potion? I found it hidden at Trixie’s house. She was the Magical Research Minister, so she was trying to make magic more powerful. It must’ve been her invention,” she lied.
“That’s a coincidence,” said Nurse Redheart. “You were too young to remember, but back when I still lived in Ponyville, Trixie used a magic amulet to take over the town once. The amulet was blood-red just like that potion, and made her magic really powerful. I wonder if it’s related?”
Pumpkin Cake raised an eyebrow. As a filly growing up in Ponyville, of course she’d heard tales of Trixie’s escapades with the Alicorn Amulet before; her day-long reign of terror was the stuff of local legend. But it hadn’t crossed Pumpkin’s mind again until Redheart had just mentioned it. Then again, Pumpkin hadn’t actually found the magic potion at Trixie’s house. Sparkler had given it to her, who in turn had gotten it from Zecora. But then where did Zecora get her secret ingredient from?
Pumpkin asked, “What happened to the amulet?”
Nurse Redheart shrugged. “Nopony really knows. Rumor was that Zecora the zebra hid it out in the Everfree Forest.”
The small group of rescuers were now in sight of the field, through a set of double doors.
The first thing to hit them was the stench, that made them all reel. It was a vile mix of waste and offal, and was twice as terrible as when Pumpkin had been here by herself a couple of weeks ago. The moans of starvation, and the sounds of wailing children and mothers echoed through the dome. The ponies were malnourished, filthy, and even gaunter and bonier than before.
Pumpkin theorized for a moment that Top Brass might not actually have any of his guards kill these ponies themselves, because why waste the bullets? Perhaps the plan was to let them starve to death, since most of them looked like they were almost already there. And maybe that plan was involuntary rather than strategic, because judging by the almost-empty shelves at the grocery stores in the past few days, Pumpkin hardly imagined that there was much food left to give these ponies, even if their captors had wanted to. It was a cynical plan, she thought.
After the shock subsided, the guerrillas continued on. Pumpkin Cake had already scoped out this area the evening before, with the help of Agent Sparkler, and knew the right spot to go. She teleported down to the field, appearing in a flash. With her gun slung over her shoulder, she no doubt looked like a guard, and none of the ponies paid her any mind.
“Clear an area,” she commanded.
She motioned for the captives to move, and used her magic to lift the cots and noncompliant ponies out of the way. Soon she had cleared a space for herself of about four by four meters. The grass, once green, was now brown and yellow from having been trampled on, eaten, and lived on for so long. With a stick, she drew a circle in the dirt, four meters in diameter. She signaled up to five unicorns who were ravers at Club Copa, and they all rushed down to meet her. Most of the captives didn’t seem to pay the ravers any mind. But the earth pony doctors and nurses came as well, and their white lab coats and healthy body weight drew far more stares.
Of the twenty ponies on the rescue team, the five doctors and nurses, five ravers, and Pumpkin stood in the circle area on the field. Juan stood guard near the doors leading into the field, while Reynaldo and three other pegasi kept watch outside. Walkabout and Professor Fossil stood on the sidelines for now, ready to spring into action when they were needed, while Vinyl Scratch was in the sound booth.
The twentieth pony, a lone unicorn pyromaniac named Ember, was on the other side of town creating a diversion, wreaking havoc against Mareicopa’s puppet government to draw as many police officers, firefighters, and military there as possible. After drinking the magic potion, he could use his horn as a powerful flamethrower, setting dozens of ponies alight at once. Thus far, it appeared that the diversion was working, but soon the police would become wise to it. The authorities might arrive at Chupacabra Stadium soon, if they radioed in and discovered that nopony was answering, but Vinyl Scratch was trying her hardest to ensure that the problem at the stadium merely sounded like some radio static rather than a crisis.
Suddenly, just as planned, Vinyl Scratch came over the PA, reading a statement that Professor Fossil had pre-written for her to be as clear and concise as possible. This part of the plan was the most critical, and the most time-sensitive.
“Attention, captives of Chupacabra Stadium. We are your liberators. We will rescue you and nurse you back to health, but you must follow our instructions exactly. In the center of the field, there will soon be a hole appearing in the boundaries of the circle drawn in the dirt. This hole will lead to caverns below the stadium.”
Pumpkin and the other guerrillas surrounded the edges of the circle, motioning towards it, as the hostages looked over towards them. Pumpkin thought of how bizarre it was to hear Vinyl speak so formally.
“This hole is intangible, and you may pass right through it. Entering it successfully and carefully is your only chance of survival. It is a drop of about thirty feet to the caverns below and will injure or kill you if you simply jump. So each pegasus, on his way down, should grab one earth pony and lower him down into the shaft. Once you are underground, please do not try to fly back up to the stadium. Walk out from under the hole and spread out, to make room for more new arrivals. At the count of three, please begin filing into the hole. Move as quickly as possible, as this hole can’t be left open indefinitely.
“Three…”
Pumpkin Cake lit up her horn, and all of the ground inside of the circle turned intangible, creating a shaft extending from the green grass of the field down to the ancient chupacabra den below the stadium. The hole from the green to the den was the largest single area Pumpkin had ever applied her intangibility spell to, and even with the magic potion coursing through her veins, it was still challenging. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold it open, or if all seventy thousand ponies could make it through a four-meter-wide opening before her magic gave out. This hole was quite literally the plan’s bottleneck.
There were already lanterns lighting the way down in the caverns, which Pumpkin Cake and Sparkler had put there the evening before. Down at the bottom of the shaft, there were several trampolines and cushy pillows underneath. It would probably still break a pony’s bones if he landed on it from so high, but at least it was better than landing on hard dirt and rock.
“...Two…”
Walkabout teleported the five doctors and nurses down into the cavern, where they would be waiting to attend to any wounded, and where they would start the freed hostages on a sugar water diet to begin to reverse their malnourishment. All of these medical supplies were also waiting, deeper in the complex system of tunnels.
“...One...”
The five raver ponies saw that hardly any of the captives had moved a muscle to get into position. Only a few thousand of them had started walking towards the hole; the rest of them didn’t move at all, or were shaking their heads no. It was just as the Resistance had feared. Of course, the hostages’ lack of action was understandable, as they were weak, tired, and perhaps didn’t trust these ponies who were instructing them to go down into a cavern.
So, as per the plan, the ravers cast the Want-It, Need-It spell on the hole. Even five experienced ravers hyped up on magic potion couldn’t cast a powerful enough WINI spell to cause seventy thousand ponies to unwillingly jump in. But with all five of them contributing their enhanced magic, it at least got everypony’s attention, and would make them more amenable to the suggestion. Of course, if the ravers had tried this stunt in a stadium with well-nourished ponies, it could have risked a dangerous stampede. But since the captives were all very weak, there was little danger of this.
“...Now!”
DJ Pon3’s beats played over the intercom, and she started rapping the verses. Since they needed the ponies to move quickly, the rap was very fast-paced, and the backing electronic dance beats were meant to get ponies off their hooves.
“A hundred million years ago The molten magma lava flow Hid all the caverns down below The chupacabras had to go They died of flames and sulfur smoke There's nothing left of them but bones It’s safe to stay down there, you know But you won’t make it if you’re slow.”
Ponies started rushing towards the hole. Many of them were cheering, smiling, hooting and hollering, for probably the first time in months, ecstatic from both the WINI spell and from their chance of finally escaping this hell. Even an unknown, underground cavern would be an improvement over the stadium. Pon3 continued with the chorus,
“Underground! Make your escape, drop through the hole as I drop the bass. Underground! Don’t jump from high; just take a ride from pegasi. Underground! Is where we've learned illegal spells that you’ve observed. Equestria! Repeal the laws on WINI, time spells, voodoo dolls.”
“Hell yeah! those are some fat beats, DJ Pon3!” one of the ravers exclaimed. The others threw their hooves up in the air.
Perhaps the political message was a bit exploitative at a time like this, but DJ Pon3 was the artist, not Pumpkin Cake. And she couldn’t argue with the results, as several thousand hostages had already made their way through the shaft, passing through at a rate of about sixty per second. Sure enough, each pegasus was carrying an earth pony down with him as per the instructions. With each pony who went through, the WINI spell became a bit more powerful, since it was now spread out over fewer remaining hostages that it had to effect. So the most reluctant and fearful ponies, who would be the last to want to go into the hole willingly, would fittingly be subjected to the strongest concentration of the spell, that could hopefully change their minds.
Walkabout was zapping around to find the sick and injured ponies who simply were too weak to get through the hole even if they wanted to, and teleporting them down there himself, while quickly assuring their family members that they’d meet their loved ones down below if they followed. After all, not even the want-it, need-it spell could override the protection instinct or the love that spouses, siblings, or parents and children had for one another. The entire field filled up with flashes as Walkabout worked efficiently.
In this task, Walkabout was aided by Professor Fossil. Or rather, by several copies of Professor Fossil from future timelines. Fossil had been locating sick and injured ponies, signaling to Walkabout with a bright light from his horn, and then traveling back in time to find even more in different sections of the grandstands. In the five minutes since the song had started, Fossil had spent the equivalent of several hours searching out these ponies, of whom there were thousands. At one point, Pumpkin counted at least five lights from Professor Fossil’s future copies’ horns in different areas of the stadium, all quickly met one after the other with flashes from Walkabout.
Five minutes in, and nearly twenty thousand ponies had now entered the hole by Pumpkin’s estimation. Her horn was starting to ache, but she felt that she could still keep the spell going as the song continued.
“The lost, departed souls we grieve Are buried six feet in the deep There lie the ones who used to be Such loving, caring company But from the ground there grows a tree There sprouts a flower from a seed Though life can be so cruel and mean For now your sorrow’s all wiped clean.
Underground! Make your escape drop through the—"
Suddenly, there was a burst of gunfire from outside. Then, there was an explosion. The white dome of the stadium burst open, revealing the blue sky above. Part of the stands exploded, chunks of it raining down on the crowds of fleeing hostages. They screamed as flaming metal debris was flung towards them, and they scattered in all directions to avoid it, now no longer heading down the shaft.
A piece of debris flew right towards Pumpkin Cake. She instinctively turned herself intangible to avoid it. But in her momentary lapse of concentration, the hole temporarily turned solid again. About three dozen ponies were still inside when this happened, and there was a sickening crunch of their bones being compacted by the now solid dirt. Pumpkin quickly restored the hole, but the damage had been done, and the hostages who’d been trapped in the dirt when it was solid were crushed to bloody pulps.
“Yo, don’t lose your cool!” Vinyl Scratch called over the intercom. “A plane dropped a bomb on the stadium! The only safe place is underground! Keep going into the hole!”
The ponies did as Vinyl and the still-active WINI spell commanded and continued pouring into the hole. Through the crack in the dome, Pumpkin glimpsed Reynaldo and the three other pegasi flying up into the air to fight five Second Kingdom bombers which had just arrived. Another part of the grandstands exploded as a bombshell landed, knocking out a group of hundreds of ponies. Yet another bomb was falling, but it disappeared as Walkabout teleported it back up into the air, above one of the planes itself.
“Like a boomerang!” he exclaimed gleefully as the bomber exploded with a distant boom, blown up by its own bomb. Reynaldo took out a plane with a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher.
“Though war has brought your lives far down Your life today is like a sprout You'll follow us into the ground And spring up mighty, strong, and proud The soil that you'll grow around Are spells that they don't want allowed So listen as I sing it loud, This rescue will remove their doubts.
Underground! Make your escape drop through the hole as I drop the bass. Underground! Don’t jump from high; take a ride from pegasi. Underground! Is where we've learned illegal spells that you've observed. Equestria! Repeal the laws on WINI, time spells, voodoo dolls."
At this point, there were about twenty thousand ponies left in the stadium who hadn’t either died from the explosions or already made it through the hole. Pumpkin’s horn was beginning to feel like it was on fire, but the gruesome images of the ponies squashed to a pulp earlier from her lack of concentration compelled her to continue. The hole shrunk in diameter as she slowly ran out of magical energy. This slowed the rate of ponies entering it over the next five minutes.
But now there was a bigger problem. Several flashes of light erupted throughout the stadium. They weren’t flashes from Walkabout. They were SK reinforcements, and they were teleporting in through the crack in the dome. There were still thousands of hostages left to rescue, Pumpkin estimated, and it would take the better part of five minutes for them to all get through with the hole its current size, now about two meters in diameter. Cherry-red sweat dripped from her forehead, no doubt her body filtering out the potion. Either that or she was sweating blood.
About a dozen SK soldiers started shooting with machine guns. They fired everywhere. Into the stands at the hostages. Into the field at the rescuers. The sound of gunfire and the sound of screams dueled in a back-and-forth contest of which could be the loudest. The brown grass and grey seats were now strewn with bright red blood.
Pumpkin’s horn now burned with a pain so white hot, it was as bad as many years ago when Trixie had branded her with a hot iron. By now the hole had shrunk to a single meter in diameter, and the flow of hostages entering had slowed to a trickle. Even if she were immune to pain, she physically couldn’t keep up her magic like this.
“Pumpkin Cake! Drink more potion!” Walkabout shouted.
He appeared right next to her, holding the remainder of the red magic potion, about 50mL. Pumpkin grabbed it, careful to still keep the hole open as best as she could. Walkabout disappeared off to help the other ponies. As Pumpkin put the vial of metallic-tasting liquid to her lips, a curious thing happened. She found that, with a bit of effort, she was able to expand the escape shaft back to its size of four meters in diameter, her energy seemingly renewed… but she hadn’t actually drank any more potion yet. Apparently, just having the vial of potion touching her was enough to boost her magic back up, albeit to less than it had been that morning.
What is this stuff? Is this a potion or a charm? she thought. Whatever it was, she didn’t even need to drink it to get its effect, so she didn’t. Though her fatigue remained, and she was still exhausted and about to collapse, at least now the hole had opened up larger.
Walkabout was now teleporting every single pony within range of him down the hole, injured or not. The ravers had abandoned casting the WINI spell and were now fighting off the SK troops, who were summarily executing every hostage they saw. The hostages kept rushing into the hole even without the WINI spell active, just to escape the hail of bullets from the executors.
Five more SK troops arrived. Then ten. Then twenty. The hostages’ numbers kept dwindling, either through being shot or by escaping. Soon, the only ponies left above-ground in the stadium were the guerillas and the SK troops. Pumpkin Cake closed off the hole, sealing the hostages and their caregivers safely underground, and collapsed onto the floor, entirely depleted. The Resistance members, now able to focus on fighting without worrying about any innocents getting caught in the crossfire, attacked the SK troops, firing back with guns and magic. Walkabout teleported them up into the air as high as they could. The ravers flung them up into the air with telekinesis, back through the dome. The soldiers were no match, and they had to retreat from the stadium.
The stadium was now empty except for the Resistance guerrillas. They stood on the field near the endzone, all cheering, jumping up and down like the Copa Chupacabras did after scoring a game-winning touchdown. After they finished cheering, they did a quick headcount. Unfortunately, they had lost three guerillas, two of them unicorn ravers who had been shot trying to stop the massacre, and then a pegasus who’d died fighting the bombers.
Also, between the bombing of the stadium by the airplanes, the subsequent shooting of the hostages by the soldiers, and the ponies who’d been crushed or accidentally fallen down the hole and hit the ground below, almost thirty thousand of the captives had died during the rescue attempt.
The survivors were attended to by the five earth pony doctors and nurses. Despite Nurse Redheart’s put-downs of earth ponies, they played perhaps the most important role in the entire rescue attempt. Thanks to the same sort of life-giving magic that allowed earth ponies to grow crops, they were also excellent healers. Earth ponies passively gave off an aura of life, and any sick pony attended to by an earth pony doctor or nurse could expect for his wounds to heal faster. When the healers took the potion, their normal healing powers were increased by twenty times.
Pumpkin felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment. Some might have called the mission a failure because of the high casualty rate, but she called it a success. Though the mission had been far from perfect, they had saved over forty thousand ponies from being killed. That was something to truly be proud of, she thought, and indeed, it was the biggest accomplishment in her young life. But she and the Resistance weren’t done yet. They had freed the hostages, and now, they were going to free Mareicopa itself.
Fires smoldered in the downtown area of Mareicopa. The city hall was a charred, blackened skeleton. Blazes raged at the library and in the park, the stench of burning wood and paper filling the air. The police station was still burning, the officers trapped inside as smoke filled their lungs and they desperately tried jumping and teleporting out of windows. Pegasi snipers from the Equestrian Loyalists pinned them inside, shooting at them as they tried to escape. A fire truck exploded as a grenade fell onto it, and firefighters ducked for cover, holding their hooves in the air and begging not to be killed.
Unlike the Mareicopa Resistance, this was the partisan group which had remained loyal to Equestria, who Sparkler hadn’t reported on her list to Fancy Pants. So they hadn’t been involved in the rescue of the stadium. They had seen the moment of chaos to spring into action and were acting all on their own. Or, perhaps Sparkler herself had ordered them to.
A lone unicorn stallion galloped through the streets, with an orange coat and a red mane, and a flame for a cutie mark. Fire emanated from his horn as he set the bushes, trees, and buildings alight. He now was no longer even targeting government buildings, as he set a corner shop and tavern on fire.
He cackled manically. “Burn everything all down! BURN IT DOWN! Make the voices stop! MAKE THEM STOP!”
Ember was never the most stable pony. Agent Sparkler had wanted him dead not so much for his loyalties, but for his mental problems, which included pyromania and paranoid schizophrenia. It was potentially unwise to give him a sip of magic enhancement potion, but the rescuers had needed a diversion while they were liberating the stadium. It worked a little too well, and by the time anypony in one of the buildings realized that it was on fire, Ember had already moved on to the next one. There were squad cars and hoof patrol police officers chasing after him, but it wasn’t so easy to catch somepony who could just teleport away if he was cornered, or make his pursuers spontaneously combust. The police also were hampered by the Equestrian loyalists, who were firing on them left and right.
Meanwhile, the remaining fifteen rescuers were still at the stadium, hidden inside the locker room. They hadn’t yet joined in the chaos in the city itself, though Reynaldo had scouted out and told them about it. He also had told them about an approaching Second Kingdom army convoy of a few thousand mechanized infantry, who were expected to arrive later that afternoon.
“We better go out and join the fun,” Walkabout urged.
“Hell yeah! I’ve got loads of fans at Club Copa who can free this city! Just say the word and I’ll give them all these guns. We’re not afraid to die,” said Vinyl Scratch.
Hundreds of guns were stored inside of the lockers, after the guerillas had gone around the vestibule and taken them off of the dead bodies of the guards. The three remaining ravers nodded, undeterred by the loss of their two friends.
Nurse Redheart shook her head. “You guys go if you want to, but the medical personnel have to stay in the caverns and attend to the injured and malnourished.”
“Nopony should go,” said Professor Fossil. “Not yet. Let the partisans who are loyal to the invisible mare do all the heavy lifting. They will weaken the SK army, who will kill the partisans. When the time is right, then we can strike.”
“That potion is wearing off, though,” said Walkabout, wiping red sweat from his brow. “Me teleports are still powerful, but not as powerful as this morning. And those pahtisans will need our help to liberate Copa. Shouldn’t we strike now while we’re still strong?”
“You and I will, Walkabout,” said Pumpkin Cake. Then she turned to the others. “But I agree with Professor Fossil and Nurse Redheart: the rest of you should stay. Vinyl, too. Her fans didn’t take the potion, and neither did she, so there’s no harm in them waiting. Our full group can attack at any time, so we don’t need to do this too early.”
Vinyl opened her mouth to speak in protest, but Nurse Redheart turned to Pumpkin and Walkabout and said, “What are you two going to do?”
Pumpkin answered, “Defanging.”
Across the desert sands, hundreds of SK armored personnel carriers and tanks raced towards Mareicopa from the front lines near the Everfree River. They had retreated from their positions so that they could go reinforce the city, and were no longer bothering to hold the lines against the Equestrian army, who had filled in the territory that they’d ceded. This meant that the Second Kingdom army and territory was now cut in two, with no land connection between Copa and Canterlot anymore. Black smoke billowed from the desert city from the raging fires and explosions, visible even from several kilometers outside of town. But the Second Kingdom would not lose their grip on the city if General Top Brass could at all help it.
Sergeant Popper sat inside of one of the carriers, which was bringing up the rear of the convoy. He had received word that the partisans had captured the stadium and freed the hostages, but that the hostages hadn’t gone far. They were directly under the stadium, hidden inside of an ancient cavern.
Top Brass, who remained in Canterlot to run the government, had ordered Popper to seize the stadium back from the insurgents at all costs. A new shipment of oranges had arrived from Horseshoe Bay, and Popper’s division of 6,000 soldiers had been allocated 300 crates of oranges as provisions. Once the threat was eliminated and the stadium was secure, the army could simply dig down into the caverns and retrieve the hostages, and Top Brass’ ultimatum to the Princesses could still be carried out.
Sergeant Popper’s division wasn’t trained in urban warfare. The specialized urban warfare battalions were busy trying to root out opponents of the junta in Canterlot, including Fancy Pants loyalists and the remainder of his secret service, and had their hooves full. So Poppers’ regular army division was the only hope of keeping control over Mareicopa and recapturing Chupcacabra Stadium and the hostages underneath it. It was now or never.
As they continued along the paved road leading into town, in a single-file procession, there was a flash in the road half a kilometer ahead. Two ponies appeared: a navy blue unicorn stallion wearing sunglasses and a wide-brimmed slouch hat, who none of them recognized, and Pumpkin Cake, who many had seen on the wanted posters. She’d abandoned her different-colored disguise by now, and her fiery orange mane stuck out like a sore hoof against the tan desert sand and dark blacktop of the road.
Sergeant Popper’s heart leapt in his chest for a moment. But then he chuckled, relaxing. What was Pumpkin Cake going to do? She was powerful, but could she really fight off thousands of ponies all by herself? Not even an alicorn could do that. Was she expecting to massacre them all before running out of magical energy? Popper commanded for the convoy to proceed as normal as if she wasn’t there.
But it turned out that Pumpkin didn’t need to directly fight them. One by one, the wheels of the trucks and the treads of the tanks turned intangible in a red glow and then fell off onto the ground, resolidifying. The hundreds of trucks and tanks came to a halt. With nothing to hold them up, they thudded to the ground.
Mechanics in the convoy raced out to retread the tanks and put the tires back on the trucks, but the blue stallion teleported the treads and tires into a giant pile, about a kilometer away from the side of the road. Some of the soldiers tried firing on the two ponies who were sabotaging their armor. But Pumpkin had turned herself and him both intangible as well, so it was no use, and the bullets flew right through them.
Then, after the entire convoy had ground to a halt, the bolts of the soldiers’ rifles turned intangible. Thousands of bolts flew out of the guns and through the air like a swarm of metal dragonflies, rendering the guns unable to fire. They also landed in the pile with the tank treads and truck wheels. This continued for about ten minutes, until the entire division was effectively disarmed and unable to move.
Now confident that nopony could fire on her, Pumpkin Cake and the stallion resolidified.
She shouted, “Second Kingdom soldiers: you wanted a massacre? Then try coming into town without your guns and vehicles, and just see what happens to you! We have hundreds of armed ponies who won’t be so forgiving of you for your genocide. You will never control Mareicopa again.”
The blue stallion commanded in an Oatstralian accent, “Now go, into the bush, and never return!” He pointed to the desert. “Take nothing. Your guns, tanks, and provisions are our trophies now.”
The soldiers all murmured amongst themselves. They would have to surrender to the Equestrian Armed Forces, after making a long trek through the desert without their vehicles, without guns, without provisions. Some of them could teleport, but not all.
Upon hearing their hesitation, Pumpkin scowled. “Be thankful that I only plucked the bolts from your guns, and not the stems from your brains! Now leave before I change my mind.”
The soldiers got the message: leave or be massacred. Before Sergeant Popper could even give them the order, they retreated, bailing out of the trucks, APCs, and tanks, abandoning their guns and their food, with only canteens strung around their necks. Sergeant Popper, with nothing else he could do, followed his soldiers on hoof out into the desert.
Many hours later, they encountered the advancing Equestrian army, to whom they surrendered. The Equestrians, who weren’t prepared to take on 6,000 hungry and thirsty prisoners of war, had to stop their advance just to take them back to the POW detention centers.
The remaining Second Kingdom forces inside the city of Mareicopa, finding themselves surrounded and under fire from partisans, with no heavy armor to reinforce them, surrendered that afternoon. The police laid down their weapons and removed their uniforms, and were allowed to leave the city peacefully.
With quick use of intangibility and teleportation, Pumpkin, Walkabout, and some of the mechanically-minded guerillas retreaded the tanks and put the tires back onto the trucks, and reassembled the rifles. The Mareicopa Resistance was now armed as well as a conventional army, albeit with no formal training in how to use their new toys. So, as per Professor Fossil’s advice, they quickly quelled any resistance from the few remaining Loyalist partisans who had survived the street battles with the Second Kingdom army. Some of the Loyalists weren’t so happy that the ponies that Sparkler had labeled as traitors were still alive. But other than a few hit-and-run attacks, the Loyalists were no match.
All across the city, the armored personnel carriers and tanks drove clumsily along, manned by the Mareicopa Resistance group, as they tried to maintain calm and stop looters, vandals, and others who had been taking advantage of the chaos earlier. Hundreds of guns were distributed to small business owners for them to protect their shops, in return for their loyalty to the Resistance. The red and black flags of the Second Kingdom were torn down all over town. But the flags of Equestria didn’t go up in their place. Instead, the flagpoles remained bare except for the orange and purple bicolor flag of the city of Mareicopa.
Professor Fossil held a press conference the next day at noon, when the city had quieted down some, and the fires had all been put out. By that point, all of the guerillas’ magic had returned to normal levels after they had sweated the potion out. Only Pumpkin’s magic was still enhanced, since she kept the vial of remaining potion with her, but she didn’t disclose this to anypony. For all the Resistance knew, she’d drank the last of it back in the stadium.
Hundreds of ponies gathered inside of Club Copa, which had become the de-facto gathering place for Resistance members, whose ranks had now swelled to well over 1,000 thanks to a hasty recruitment drive. From the massive stockpile of surrendered weapons, guns were given out to practically anypony who pledged allegiance to the Resistance and its ideals, promised to fight for them, and promised not to loot or steal. Tanks and armored personnel carriers were parked outside of Club Copa, orange and blue flags fluttering from them. Ponies armed with machine guns stood on the roof, standing guard. A few guards stood inside of the club itself, now uncharacteristically lit with fluorescent lights rather than strobe lights and disco balls.
Dozens of reporters flocked around to Pumpkin Cake and Professor Fossil as they walked through the club, up to the stage where they were to give their statement.
“When will the rule of law be reestablished? Will Mareicopa be part of Equestria again?” asked an eager cub reporter from the Mareicopa Monitor.
“Our statement in a few moments will address this,” said Professor Fossil, trying to edge his way past a group of journalists.
“Why do you have those guns? Why do you have tanks?” asked another reporter, a middle-aged pegasus from the Cloudsdale Courier.
“For our protection,” said Pumpkin Cake bluntly.
“Who was responsible for the arson attacks downtown yesterday, and have they been apprehended?”
“Mister Ember is currently still on the loose, but rest assured that he is no longer a threat,” said Professor Fossil. This answer led to even more questions, both about Ember and other things.
“Care to comment on reports that your group has set up roadblocks to prevent the Equestrian army from entering the city limits?”
“How will the food shortages be addressed?”
“Have there been any background checks before you gave out all those guns to civilians? What about the increase in crime?”
Pumpkin Cake rolled her eyes and simply teleported along with Professor Fossil, since the reporters wouldn’t let them pass.
“The Mareicopa Resistance has prepared a group statement declaring our intentions,” said Professor Fossil, who now stood on the stage with Pumpkin Cake, where Vinyl Scratch’s electronics normally sat. “I will read it, and then all questions will be answered afterwards.”
The reporters were quiet as Professor Fossil spoke.
“Citizens of Equestria: I am Professor Fossil, the spokespony for the Mareicopa Resistance. We have liberated Mareicopa from the Second Kingdom. We have freed forty thousand of the seventy thousand Chupacabra Stadium captives alive. They are all being treated and are returning to good health, and are being released to go about their lives. A few hundred have already recovered physically well enough to walk on the streets. Some have even joined our ranks.”
Ponies in the crowd cheered at the news. A few even included the rather gaunt but smiling freed hostages, who just a day ago were trapped inside the stadium. Machine guns were slung over their shoulders.
Professor Fossil continued, “We must remember how these ponies were freed: with the use of spells such as want-it need-it, voodoo, intangibility, and time travel, which are restricted or banned in Equestria due to their perceived harm. But a spell in and of itself is not good or evil. The same spells which can control minds, kill ponies, and sow chaos can also cure cancer, inform historians, and induce bliss. It is not a spell itself, but how the spell is used, that should determine its morality and legality. Our rescue of the hostages has proven this.
“Though the Second Kingdom rule over this city was full of abuses, they did allow the unicorn race to practice all magic freely. We cannot return to a system where using our natural abilities and talents could result in our imprisonment. It would be unethical and impractical. The knowledge of these spells has already spread too far in Mareicopa, a city that is over 50% unicorn, to be contained without harsh, dictatorial measures. According to a recent academic survey by the University of Mareicopa, nearly a fifth of unicorns in this city have casted at least one spell that was banned under Equestrian rule. We, the unicorns of Mareicopa and our non-unicorn friends and allies, refuse to return to Equestria if it means having our horns shackled.
“Thus, we urge Equestria to repeal its magic laws before welcoming Mareicopa back. At that time, we will lay down our weapons and peacefully rejoin the new Equestria. But if the Equestrian military attempts to enter the city before the laws have been repealed, they will be treated as an occupying force and responded to appropriately. We believe that won’t be necessary, since we are confident that the Equestrian parliament will convene and change the laws, and this situation will resolve itself without bloodshed. Mareicopa will be a proud Equestrian city once again, and families will be reunited, but without the draconian laws against magic use.”
After Professor Fossil was done speaking, there was muted applause. Pumpkin Cake turned to the reporters. “I am Pumpkin Cake, commander of the Mareicopa Resistance, and I have a single statement.”
Pumpkin paused for a moment, as several camera flashbulbs lit up. Then, she spoke, “Princess Twilight, your agent and the Mareicopa Resistance made a deal. You already betrayed us once and condemned us to die at the hooves of the Second Kingdom. Now that they’re gone from this city, you would be foolish to try betraying us again. We don’t want bloodshed; in fact, just yesterday we saved forty thousand lives. But your agent should remember her promise, and your parliament should know its place. Their vote for repeal is the only way to preserve peace.
“If the parliament insists on betraying us and provoking a war with Mareicopa, your citizens should recall the Second Kingdom division that surrendered to you yesterday. You ought to ask yourself what force would drive six thousand unicorns to thrown down their weapons and run across the blazing desert, into the arms of their worst enemies for safety. Do you really want such a force turned against you? I don’t. Make the right decision.”
Ponies asked Pumpkin Cake a barrage of questions about her cryptic statement, but she simply disappeared off the stage. Even most of the Mareicopa Resistance members had no idea what Pumpkin was talking about, as they hadn’t known about Sparkler, and even the ones who did had no idea about Pumpkin’s deal to change the magic laws in exchange for the hostages being freed. And nopony in Mareicopa but Pumpkin knew that the ‘potion’ could act as a permanent, magic-enhancing charm if a bottle of it was kept on one’s person, and that due to this, the disarming of the Second Kingdom’s mechanized infantry could easily be repeated against any Equestrian adversaries.
But Agent Sparkler and Princess Twilight would surely know. It was their move now.
Twilight Sparkle sat in her conference room as the radio replayed the press conference by the Mareicopa Resistance. It was later on that afternoon, and Twilight wished that Amethyst Star would arrive to give her a briefing, but she was mysteriously absent. The last time Twilight had spoken to Agent Sparkler was about an hour after Top Brass’ junta had taken power in Canterlot three days ago. Sparkler was supposed to be helping to take down the junta, but she was also supposed to contact Twilight to give briefings when needed. Where was she? Didn’t this situation warrant an update?
Several newspapers lay sprawled on the table. Though Twilight had official military and government information sources and updates, she still wanted to see how the ponies on the street were perceiving the situation through the lens the media presented. All of the different slants to the same story were fascinating.
For instance, the Canterlot Cornucopia gave a rosy picture which glossed over the utter magnitude of the Second Kingdom’s loss, and the headline simply said, “Brave Unicorn Soldiers Fight Valiantly, Make Tactical Retreat From Mareicopa.” It was a sparsely-written article that gave no mention of their humiliating military defeat or the loss of the hostages at Chupacabra Stadium.
The Hollow Shades Sentinel was a bit more neutral, the headline saying “Hostages Freed As Second Kingdom Defeated At Mareicopa, But City’s Future Remains Uncertain.” And, of course, a special edition of the Tall Tale Times had just been printed, and it was far less reserved than the other papers. The headlines screamed, “TERRORISTS SEIZE MAREICOPA FROM S.K., DEMAND EQUESTRIAN LAW CHANGE… OR ELSE!”
Twilight Sparkle shook her head as she looked down at the paper. Perhaps the Times was a bit alarmist, but whichever way it was presented to the ponies, it was still bad news.
“I don’t know what they think gives them right to make demands of the Equestrian parliament,” said Twilight, glancing at Agent Spitfire and Princess Luna, who were also in the conference room with her. “Agent Sparkler told me that she only told Pumpkin Cake that if they freed the hostages, Parliament would consider changing the magic laws, not that it was a guarantee. And only altering the laws was discussed, not an outright repeal. Also, thirty thousand hostages weren’t supposed to die!”
General Spitfire chuckled. “Maybe, to get Pumpkin Cake’s help, Agent Sparkler had to promise her more than ‘we’ll think about it.’ Or maybe, Pumpkin Cake misunderstood what Sparkler said and only heard what she wanted to hear. Or maybe she’s just seizing the opportunity to get herself a better deal than what Sparkler offered. But the original words spoken in private between the two don’t matter at this point. The Resistance wants what they want.”
“This Mareicopa Resistance is a terrorist group and should be dealt with as such,” said Princess Luna, scowling.
“Well, it depends on how you define ‘terrorist’,” said General Spitfire, holding up a hoof non-confrontationally. “I mean, they haven’t fired a single shot at my troops yet. They’ve just parked a bunch of armored vehicles on the roads into town as makeshift roadblocks. They stand on top of them holding guns, but all without the magazines, just meant as a display of force. Like ‘yeah, we have guns. We’re not ready to use them just now, but push us far enough and we will.’ It’s a bit tense, and they’ve been shouting at my troops, but there hasn’t been any combat yet. It’s obvious that they want to avoid bloodshed. So do I, if I can help it.”
Twilight nodded. “We all do. But if it comes down to it, how easily could you retake the city from them by force?”
General Spitfire shrugged. “I honestly couldn’t tell you. On the one hoof, there’s still a food shortage in Mareicopa just like in Canterlot, so their hungry fighters will be a lot less effective than our well-fed ones. Also, they’re really inexperienced with all that armor they captured. They’re driving around on those tanks like they’re go-karts instead of sixty-ton battle machines. My pegasus scout saw one guerilla in an APC doing doughnuts on the street, I kid you not.”
The princesses both chuckled nervously.
Spitfire continued, “Yeah, and some of these new recruits of theirs have obviously never held rifles before, and are waving them around in the air with no regard for gun safety. It’d be almost comical if it wasn’t so serious.”
“But on the other hoof?” asked Twilight.
Spitfire sighed. “On the other hoof, some of them are so experienced in magic that it might make up for their lack of skills in conventional warfare. The stadium rescue did have higher casualties than we’d have hoped, but it was still remarkable how they used those spells in such a creative way, especially since they had no training in hostage rescue. And then that stunt that Pumpkin Cake pulled where she magically disarmed that division? I mean, could you have even done that, Princess Twilight?”
Twilight chuckled. “I’ve never tried my hoof in war, because if I died, it would be terrible for Equestria. But what Pumpkin Cake did would have been difficult. I suspect that Agent Sparkler might have given her and the other Mareicopa Resistance members a magic potion.”
Princess Luna’s eyes narrowed. “One that was never supposed to be shared with anypony but RISK agents. If this is true, she will be severely reprimanded for breach of protocol.”
General Spitfire raised an eyebrow. “What sort of potion?”
Twilight answered, “The Alicorn Potion. It’s made from a rare earth element called alicornium: the same metal that was used in the Alicorn Amulet. Drinking it can enhance your magical abilities up to twenty times, as strong as the amulet. One sip is all it takes to get the maximum possible effect. But usually, alicornium is just worn on jewelry like the Alicorn Amulet, not actually ingested. Jewelry can boost your magic indefinitely, while ingested alicornium would be excreted out and lost. And alicornium is so rare, that there is estimated to be less than twelve cubic inches of it in the whole world.”
“Then why melt down the amulet and waste it on making a potion?” asked Spitfire.
“The Alicorn Amulet had to be destroyed, since it was enchanted with dark, corrupting magic. The evil enchantment was broken, but even without it, simply having such strong magic power could be enough by itself to corrupt a pony. So we decided that the only way to entrust such power to ponies again was to have them drink the alicornium in the form of a potion. This would make the effects only temporary.”
Spitfire raised an eyebrow. “But what if the Resistance still has some of the potion left? They could still be a big threat.”
Twilight Sparkle sighed. “Hopefully Agent Sparkler didn’t leave the potion with them. But without a briefing from her, I’m in the dark.”
“Perhaps the terrorists killed Agent Sparkler and took the potion. I cannot envision her making such a foolish blunder otherwise,” said Princess Luna.
“We need to wait and see, or else I’m going into that city blind,” said Spitfire.
Twilight Sparkle nodded. She recalled when Trixie had taken over Ponyville with the Alicorn Amulet. At the time, that had seemed like a big deal to her young mind. But Trixie had been acting by herself, had been inexperienced in magic other than parlor tricks, and had no guns or tanks. And Ponyville was a small town, not a large city with over a million residents like Mareicopa. The situation with the Resistance had the potential to become very bloody if it wasn’t handled with care.
After a few seconds, Twilight Sparkle made her decision. “Until I get a briefing, we’ll hold off on sending any military into Mareicopa. I’ll convene an emergency session of parliament tomorrow morning, and they can vote on the magic laws.”
“Do you think they should they be repealed?” asked General Spitfire.
Twilight shook her head. “I used to be a unicorn. My special talent is magic. But I spent years in school learning how to safely use all of those spells. I have no problem allowing ponies to use whatever spells possible...so long as they’re law-abiding and properly trained. But just letting anypony cast the want-it, need-it spell, or time travel spells? There could be anarchy. There were problems even when I used those spells, and I’m trained in them! It’s up to the parliament to vote on it, though.”
“I would concur with Princess Twilight,” said Princess Luna. “But we should not convene a session of parliament. We should never negotiate with rogues at the barrels of guns. We refused to negotiate with Top Brass when he held those hostages, so why is this Mareicopa Resistance gang any different? Our national parliament is not a battering ram; it is a conduit of the voters to reflect their will.”
Twilight sighed. “I just want this all to be over. I’m sure that the citizens of Mareicopa do, too, and they’re caught in the middle. Agent Sparkler did promise Pumpkin Cake that if she rescued the hostages, the parliament would consider changing the magic laws. A majority of the hostages were freed, so I intend to keep Agent Sparkler’s promise. But I do want to meet with Pumpkin Cake personally and try to talk her into seeing reason. I hope that we can keep Mareicopa from turning into yet another front in the war, and I hope that they’ll peacefully rejoin Equestria, even if parliament doesn’t vote their way. I just pray that Sparkler is successful in her regime change operation to overthrow Top Brass.”
Twilight’s eyes nervously shifted. Though Luna disagreed, Twilight could understand if Sparkler had offered the potion to those guerillas, since she might not have seen any other options for them to free the stadium otherwise. There was room for disagreement on whether that was strategically sound. Time would soon tell. But at this point, Twilight just wanted to know that her friend and most trusted RISK agent was okay, and that her absence didn’t mean that something bad had happened to her.
Pound Cake shook his head in disgust as his sister’s words from the press conference played over the radio, hanging in the air like smoke, making his chest clench in anger.
Her words were little more than terroristic threats, he thought. Sure, Pound Cake had made public threats before, too, but he was doing it against the Second Kingdom to stop them from waging war. Pumpkin Cake, on the other hoof, was practically provoking a war! Her lip-service about ‘not wanting to cause bloodshed’ reminded Pound of ponies who would say, ‘not to sound racist,’ and then say the most racist thing ever.
He still loved his sister, but she really needed help. Pumpkin belonged in therapy, not in a position of power over a major city. What had Trixie done to her in that dungeon? Had she been tortured or raped? Pumpkin hadn’t talked much about it, but Pound could tell that she was disturbed after what had happened. He recalled his talks with his own therapist. Perhaps this crusade of Pumpkin’s was just her way of lashing out. While Pound, too, had rage, he had channeled it into stopping the SK. Pumpkin didn’t have any similar outlets, though Pound did admire that she finally saved those hostages.
Also, Pumpkin had been cooped up in a small space for six months, her magic kept contained. Maybe she saw Equestria’s magic laws as the same sort of thing. But they weren’t even similar. Pound Cake, the rest of Equestrians For Action, and hundreds of other ponies who had gathered in the EFA conference room in Fillydelphia firmly believed in the magic laws. It was a standing room only, and the only seats were reserved for Pound Cake, Rainbow Dash, and the other dozen ponies on the EFA council, who sat on a panel at the front of the room.
The crowd booed and hissed as Pumpkin’s statement replayed over the radio.
“She’s the new Blueblood!” shouted a stallion.
“Somepony needs to take out the terrorists and bring peace to Mareicopa!” shouted a mare.
Another shouted, “My grandma lives there and she’s terrified of war!”
A few ponies threw tomatoes up onto the stage.
Raindrops, who was seated at the table in the front of the room, motioned for everypony to be quiet as the radio played the remainder of her speech. It concluded, and the crowd started murmuring amongst themselves.
“Alright, that speech was… messed up,” said Rainbow Dash bluntly. “As chairpony of Equestrians For Action, I wanna open this up to comments. We need to make our stance crystal clear.”
“I’ll start,” said Lyra Heartstrings, who was seated at the table. “I’m a unicorn, but I agree with the magic laws. There’s laws about all kinds of things. An earth pony can’t keep a manticore as a pet. A pegasus can’t make a tornado without a permit. Why are magic laws any different?”
“They’re not,” Bon Bon muttered. “We need to be united as a country, not divided. I don’t care how many hostages those ponies freed; nothing excuses terrorism.”
The ponies in the crowd muttered in approval.
Next to speak was a caramel-coated unicorn stallion sitting at the EFA panel. He was Doctor Stable, a former colleague of Nurse Redheart’s from Ponyville General.
Dr. Stable said, “We also need to examine the veracity of their claims that these spells are healthful. Voodoo has many ill side effects when used to treat cancer, and the cure is worse than the disease. I’m an oncologist, and I wouldn’t recommend it for any patient. If a pony has cancer, he shouldn’t be treated with voodoo, even as a last resort. In that case, we should compassionately put the patient onto end-of-life care. Someday we will find a cure for cancer that isn’t a dangerous spell. As for the want-it, need-it spell, that is proven to cause changes in the brains of ponies who use it regularly. It creates addiction.”
“WINI is a messed up spell. Pumpkin tried it. It’s turned her into… well, we all just heard. A sociopath who cares about nopony but herself! I hate to say that about my own sister, but it’s true,” said Pound Cake.
“If a pony showed up for work at my desalination factory under WINI, I would terminate him,” said Featherweight. Some of the union members in the crowd looked at Featherweight with ire, while others nodded in agreement. They had mixed feelings: as a factory manager, he was their opponent, but as a supporter of the EFA, they was their ally.
The tiffany-maned Raindrops was the next to speak. “I’m Raindrops. I was the former commissioner of police in Cloudsdale, until I was sacked by President Lightning Dust for trying to root out corruption in the department. Now I’m a police lieutenant here in Fillydelphia. So I know a lot about crime and policing. I also know the facts. Statistics show that magic laws reduce magic-related crime. Twenty years ago in Oatstralia, there was a brutal massacre where a crazed unicorn teleported twenty earth ponies off a cliff to their deaths, before killing himself. Teleportation and other dangerous spells were banned in Oatstralia the next year. After the ban, the number of magic-related deaths declined by 5%. And there hasn’t been another massacre in Oatstralia since. The same logic also applies to spells like voodoo or WINI, which are even more dangerous. If you legalize them, you’ll see more crimes committed with them.”
Hoops exclaimed, “Businessponies could abuse WINI! What if there’s a shady businesspony like Filthy Rich who wants to sell garbage. Just cast a spell to make ponies want it.”
“Or cast a spell on your factory to break up a strike, so that your workers are happy they’re being mistreated,” said Organized Labor, the new leader of the Association of Steelworkers, Dockhooves, and Fabricators, who was also seated at the EFA table. “Jet Set and Upper Crust tried that at the JSUC factory right here in Fillydelphia, but those strikers all learned special mental techniques to stop WINI. By the way, as you walk out the door, we’ll be giving out pamphlets on how you can train your mind to avoid being entranced.”
Ponies in the audience, which included dozens of local ASDF union members, all clapped.
Pound Cake said, “Most Equestrians support these magic laws. I think like, eighty percent, the last time it was polled?”
“Yes,” said Raindrops.
“Then we need to get out into the streets and show parliament that these terrorists don’t speak for us!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “We’ve held off on big marches in Manehattan before, at my urge.”
Pound Cake narrowed his eyes, as he had regretted that they hadn’t yet had large gatherings in Equestria’s capital to show their stance against corruption. Rainbow Dash had been assuring him that she had an understanding with Princess Twilight.
Rainbow Dash continued, “...But now’s the time to march. Parliament will be meeting in Manehattan tomorrow to vote. Let’s make sure that our voice is heard loud and clear! Not just on magic laws, but on corruption and greed, too.”
“They all represent the same thing: a small minority of ponies wielding massive power over everypony else,” said Doctor Stable. “How is casting the want-it, need-it spell different from giving a bribe? Both are powerful ways to sway the minds of their victims. How are these quack, so-called ‘oncologists’ who cast voodoo on patients different from the military-industrial complex which sells weapons? Both profit from death.”
“It’s settled. We’re going to Manehattan to march on parliament tomorrow!” Pound Cake exclaimed.
The crowd cheered.
Pound Cake and Rainbow Dash stood at the front of the march in Manehattan. Thousands of ponies had poured into the streets to join them, some of them spontaneously. They threw their hooves up in the air and chanted in unison as they continued towards Celestial Avenue, where the parliament was located.
“Keep the laws! Keep the laws!” they all shouted.
Pound Cake was pleased by the turnout. A thousand EFA members had made it from Fillydelphia, Manehattan, Baltimare, and elsewhere to march on parliament. Two thousand ASDF union members had joined them. Thousands more ponies unaffiliated with any group had also joined: regular Manehattanites who didn’t want to see their streets overrun with magic crime.
In total, there were about five thousand marchers. For a march held on such short notice, early on a chilly morning, the turnout was incredible. Pound would have liked more time to plan it, but the parliament’s emergency session was that morning and they had to act quickly.
But as the march rounded the corner of Celestial Avenue, there was a loud bang. A trash can on the curb burst open, with smoke pouring out. Ponies screamed and ran in every direction, the march scattering. Pound Cake and Rainbow Dash both took to the air with their security team.
“Keep calm! Attend to the wounded!” shouted Rainbow Dash through a megaphone.
Pound Cake shook his head as many of the marchers scattered, fleeing in fear. This explosion was clearly an act of terrorism meant to intimidate them.
About an hour later, after the police arrived and swept the rest of the route and the parliament house itself to check for explosives, the casualties of the bomb were known. A hoof grenade had been left in a trash can to explode, but it hadn’t been very powerful, and thankfully nopony died. Just five marchers were injured, only two of them seriously. But in that time, over half of the 5,000 marchers had fled, not returning.
Now a little over 2,000 protesters remained. From speaking to them, Pound Cake knew that no sort of intimidation would deter them from marching. They believed so firmly in the cause, that they would have to be killed to stop.
Raindrops walked with a stoic look on her face. Featherweight flew about five meters above street level, his eyes shifty. He was nervous about another explosion, but he at least held a sign to show his support. Bon Bon and Lyra both stood with their instruments, singing a smooth, reggae-influenced song about being brave under pressure. Doctor Stable, after attending to the wounded, stood along with them. Organized Labor and her ASDF union members, who were used to scuffles, were undeterred. The bodyguards Hoops, Dumbbell, and Bulky Biceps hovered in the air around Pound Cake and Rainbow Dash as usual, their arms crossed.
The march came to a stop on the plaza just outside of the parliament house, where the protesters held signs and chanted loud enough for the representatives inside to hear them. They stomped their hooves on the pavement in unison, shaking the ground.
Speaker Mare, an elderly, grey-maned earth pony, had had quite a storied political career. From her years as the mayor of Ponyville, to her time spent as a senator of Hollow Shades, to her four-year tenure as the speaker of Parliament, she had been climbing the rungs of political power. Though she saw herself more as a trusted steward of the voters than a born leader. After all, she had only ever run for office after others had encouraged her to.
In all of her years of politics, she had seen wars, famines, and disasters. But never had she seen an armed group command the parliament of Equestria to pass a law or else. Not even Blueblood had done that in Canterlot years ago; he had merely declared the Second Kingdom’s independence, bypassing parliament entirely. Cloudsdale had voted in a referendum. So this situation in Mareicopa was a troubling new development. The legislative branch was supposed to reflect the will of the voters. It wasn’t supposed to be pushed around by minorities or armed militias like the Mareicopa Resistance.
“This emergency session of parliament has come to order,” Speaker Mare proclaimed, banging a gavel on the desk. The four hundred representatives and senators quieted down.
“On the topic of magic control: has the Safety and Regulatory Subcommittee proposed a bill as per Princess Twilight’s request?”
“We have, Madam Speaker,” said the head of the Subcommittee, named Guard Rail. “Senate bill 288, the Magical Freedom Enhancement Bill, amends current magic laws regarding several spells.
“SB 288 will remove the licensing restrictions on the Want-It, Need-It spell. All unicorns above age sixteen, of sound mind, will be allowed WINI for their personal use without a license. WINI may not ever be cast on another pony besides oneself, except for licensed psychiatrists who prescribe a patient be put under the spell as a treatment regimen for clinical depression.
“Time travel education and licensing requirements will remain in place, but will be reduced to four years of schooling required rather than six, and the number of accredited magical schools will be increased. Voodoo will now be allowed in limited, medical-related circumstances for licensed practitioners, but will otherwise remain totally banned.
“For all aforementioned spells, there will additionally be a grandfather clause for ponies who learned banned spells in Mareicopa under Second Kingdom rule. Any such pony will be allowed to use those spells in private, so long as he does not teach them to other ponies, or use them in ways otherwise prohibited by law.”
“Very well, then,” said Speaker Mare. “We shall begin the debate process, but speedily, as the princess has demanded. The representative from Baltimare and the leader of the Party of Choice has the floor.”
“Thank you, Madam Speaker,” said the Baltimare representative, Willy Freemare. “Despite being in the minority, The Party of Choice has consistently spoken up for the rights of ponies to do as they wish with their own bodies. Whether it comes to fighting restrictions on abortion, or fighting restrictions on drugs, the party has always been a beacon of personal liberty. We see these magic restrictions as similar barriers to bodily autonomy, and will support SB 288.”
“The gentlecolt has been heard,” said Speaker Mare. “Next to speak is the senator from Fillydelphia and the head of the Party of Laborers, Madam Alrica Pones.”
Alrica Pones, an aging, grey mare who was older than even Speaker Mare herself, stood out of her seat.
“Thank you, Madam Speaker. The Party of Laborers’ stance against SB 288 should already be evident, as we oppose any action to concentrate power in the hooves of a minority. But now I will speak directly to the biggest party in parliament and head of the majority coalition: the Equestrian Voters Party, of which Speaker Mare and nearly a third of the parliament are members of. Now, the Equestrian Voters Party and the Party of Laborers have disagreed in the past on labor laws and environmental regulations. But we both have been consistent in our support for the will of the voters, and the ideals of democracy. It is even in your party name.”
The members of the Equestrian Voters Party nodded.
“So I’d like to point out that a national poll conducted last year by Gallop, a non-partisan group, showed 62% of potential voters support keeping the current magic laws, while 13% want them tightened and 5% were undecided. Only 20% of voters want the laws relaxed. Even 40% of unicorns support either keeping or tightening the laws. Now, the elections for Senate are this December 30th, just months away. Are you ready to go back to your home districts and campaign on your record of voting for something that the majority opposes?”
There was silence, and Senator Pones smiled.
She continued, “But perhaps that poll won’t persuade you. After all, you Voterites are so convinced of your popular support, that your candidates for office who are behind in the polls often dismiss them as being ‘skewed.’ This is my retort: listen closely and look out the east window.”
The parliamentarians gazed out the giant window overlooking the plaza. There stood thousands of ponies, holding signs and chanting, “Keep the laws! Keep the laws! Keep the laws!”
Pones asked, “Does that look ‘skewed’ to you? It’s clear where the majority of Equestria stands. But perhaps your home district has different demographics. Unicorns tend to live more in cities; perhaps you come from a large city like Baltimare or Tall Tall that has a plurality of unicorns. Or perhaps you belong to a party which touts fake ‘freedoms’ like the ‘freedom’ to pollute the air or the ‘freedom’ to underpay your workers, so your principles tell you to vote for SB 288 to enshrine the ‘freedom’ to cast wicked, dangerous spells.
“But even if you support SB 288 in principle, you must oppose it in practice. This bill is being voted on after a mere… twenty minutes of debate, I believe? Mere hours after an all-night session in which staffers hastily wrote it? And it’s being voted on under threat of an armed insurrection in Equestria’s eighth-largest city, and after a bomb just exploded less than a mile from here? This is no way to run a country. Not even the stores run by Filthy Rich are this poorly managed.
“We cannot vote against the will of the Equestrian people, under terroristic threats, with no time for true debate. I don’t care if you agree with every single word in SB 288, which none of you has had the time to read fully anyway. Every representative and senator in this parliament who claims to stand for the will of the ponies of Equestria should vote against this bill, or risk being voted out of office. Thank you.”
A few more parliamentarians rose to speak, but Senator Pones’ words clearly had the most effect. The vote was taken ten minutes later on SB 288. Of Equestria’s 400 MPs, 250 voted against, while 150 voted for. It was mostly party-line. The Party of Choice and the Party of Piracy voted entirely for SB 288, along with other minority parties. The Party of Labor and the Ponies Party voted entirely against SB 288. The Equestrian Voters Party was split, but enough of them voted against SB 288 for it to not pass.
Speaker Mare herself voted against it, as she despised that an armed minority was attempting to influence parliament. She faithfully represented the constituents of her 65% non-unicorn district.
Euphoric from the victory in Parliament, Pound Cake walked into the bathroom of a Manehattan coffee shop, his security team right outside. This was the first time all day that he had been entirely alone, as his bodyguards normally never let him leave their sight.
“Well it took long enough to get in touch with you. Kudos on your security team; they really watch out for invisible ponies now. But I can get past almost anything.”
Pound’s head jolted as he turned around and saw the invisible mare, except that for the first time he’d seen, she was visible.
“RISK Agent Sparkler, also known as ‘invisi-mare.’ Nice to meet you while visible,” said Sparkler. She and Pound Cake shook hooves.
“We made our voice heard outside of parliament,” said Pound Cake, smiling. “My sister couldn’t scare them into voting for some law that most ponies don’t want.”
“You’re quite the activists,” said Sparkler. “Well done.”
Pound raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute… Pumpkin mentioned an Equestrian agent in her speech. That’s you, isn’t it? Have you been fighting the magic laws?” he demanded.
Sparkler held up a hoof. “Easy there, Pound Cake. Your sister’s group was key in saving those hostages, but they went overboard when they seized the whole city. I disagree with Pumpkin Cake about those magic laws. If anything, they should be tightened. I’m a secret agent, and we’re all about confidentiality and controlling information. Spells like those should be on a need-to-know basis.”
Pound nodded. “Makes sense, but, I mean, you could’ve just told Pumpkin the opposite to get her to cooperate. Who knows your true beliefs?”
Sparkler shrugged. “I won’t ask you to trust me. I’ll just ask for you to do what I say, and I never ask anypony to do something for me that doesn’t benefit himself, too. That way you’re motivated. I have another mission for your activists.”
“Okay,” said Pound.
“You’ve shown yourselves today to be good protesters. You’ve shown that in the face of terrorism, you won’t go crying to mommy. Besides parliament, the EFA is the most powerful political force in Equestria right now.”
“You know it,” said Pound, grinning.
Sparkler continued, “So direct your action towards the city that caused the war to begin with. Top Brass is weak right now, and the right actions could topple his house of cards. You’re just the right ponies for that. You and your activists will protest in Canterlot.”
“Great idea,” said Pound Cake. “But we’re not all unicorns, and we’d be arrested. Unless we do like, an invisible protest or something, but being invisible ruins the whole point of a protest. And you can’t turn too many other ponies invisible, right?”
“I won’t need to use that spell too much, because you’ll all have secret weapons,” said Agent Sparkler.
Suddenly, a giant, wooden crate appeared beside Pound Cake. The crate said Kinky Creations, Inc. on the side, in big red letters, and under it, a slogan, “for when you feel horny.” Inside were hundreds of small objects of varying shapes, sizes, and colors.
Pound Cake laughed. “I don’t think a box of dildos is going to help us much.”
Sparkler sighed. “They’re fake unicorn horns, goofball. They’re pointy and have a spiral, see?” She removed a cream-colored fake horn and tied it to Pound Cake’s forehead. “Pretty convincing. You just gotta hide your wings.”
“Oh, okay,” said Pound Cake, smiling at his new disguise. “Then why is the box from a sex toy company?”
Sparkler answered, “When Canterlot became unicorns only, non-unicorns who didn’t leave their hometown had to go into hiding. Kinky Creations saw a good business opportunity, and retooled a few factory lines to make realistic fake horns. Canterlot’s non-unicorns buy these horns and wear them in public, so that they won’t be arrested.”
“Huh,” said Pound Cake. “That’s super exploitative, though. That company is preying on those non-unicorns and making money off their fears, just like they normally profit from mares’ loneliness and addiction.”
Sparkler raised an eyebrow. “So you’d rather non-unicorns not be able to buy fake horns at all, and be arrested?”
Pound shook his head. “I’d rather they not have to look like unicorns in the first place.”
Sparkler laughed. “And I’d rather be able to fly, be thirty again, and have a billion bits. But here I am. We all have to make compromises, and understand that nothing is perfect. Life isn’t a fairytale; there are no happy endings. Learning that is part of growing up.”
Or part of being a grouch like you or Pumpkin, thought Pound. Sparkler was using the same reasoning that those quacks used to justify practicing voodoo, or that Filthy Rich used to justify foreign sweatshops or taking land: that it was ‘better than nothing.’ But he simply nodded.
Sparkler continued, “Gather up everypony who wants to go to Canterlot. Over the next day, I’ll be sneaking groups of twenty of you into Canterlot at a time, invisibly. There’s an abandoned grocery store that should fit all of you. Once you’re all there, then I’ll give out these fake horns and you can start your protest.”
“Will we be shot at?” asked Pound Cake.
Sparkler shrugged. “Let’s hope not. I’ll be doing my best to stop that. But even if you are shot, you all still marched after that grenade blew up, right? You’re not afraid of a little intimidation, are you?”
Pound grinned. He certainly wasn’t, and neither were the others who had stayed to protest. For all the panic and injury that explosion had caused, it had separated the wheat from the chaff. Almost as if…
“Did you set off that grenade?” Pound demanded.
Sparkler shrugged. “Would it matter? Whatever I say, you’ll still believe what you want to. You’ll still settle for nothing less than ‘perfect,’ even though ‘perfect’ doesn’t exist.”
Sparkler disappeared. Pound left the bathroom to go round up ponies for Canterlot.
Canterlot: One Day Later
The chilly streets of Canterlot filled to the brim. Thousands of ponies marched down Founders’ Street towards the presidential palace, as tanks and soldiers stood by, maintaining a line at the palace to prevent them from entering the grounds.
General Top Brass observed it all from the top floor of the presidential palace where he and Peachy Pitt stood. He muttered disapprovingly as he shook his head.
“Who are all of these ponies?” he demanded.
Peachy Pitt chuckled. “I guess that they aren’t so happy with your rule, General.”
He scowled.
She backed up. “Uh, not that you haven’t done everything the best you could. It’s just that, when you lose your only food bargaining chip, then you lose your most important armored division to a fifteen-year-old girl, then you lose Mareicopa to a ragtag group of retirees, health workers, and drug addicts, all while Canterlot is starving to death... yeah, I can see why ponies would get upset with you, there. Not even the media could fully cover up those embarrassments, or just how bad of shape we’re in.”
Ignoring her criticism, Top Brass said, “I’m sending Sergeant Popper out there to—”
“You threw him in the dungeons, remember? As a scapegoat?” Peachy Pitt reminded him.
Top Brass sighed. “Fine, then I’m sending the next highest-ranking officer out there to break up their little protest. I don’t care what the SK Constitution says about free assembly; I’m in charge, and my orders won’t be questioned. How are our food supplies?”
“We have about three days’ worth here in the presidential palace. Our troops out in the field have three days’ worth, too. Our citizens… well, they’re already starving.”
“Then their protest won’t go very far,” said Top Brass. “Not unless they have a food source.”
“Pizza, get your pizza here! Hot, fresh pizza, totally free, just join us in the streets!”
Local unicorns crammed into the abandoned, barren grocery store as the disguised members of the EFA handed out slices of warm, cheesy pizza. With each slice, they also handed out a premade picket sign. The signs said all sorts of things, from “Surrender now!” to “Incompetent Top Brass: Resign!” to “Save our stomachs, save the Second Kingdom!”
Hoops and Dumbbell stood guard around giant stacks of pizza boxes that were piled up behind the produce counter. Their fake horns stuck out from their heads, their wings concealed by windbreakers, as they held their rifles menacingly to stop any potential counter-jumpers. Each pony would have to wait his turn. Featherweight stood behind the counter, giving out pizza to the unicorn civilians. They were all so hungry, that they didn’t even notice that he wasn’t using levitation to remove the slices from the boxes.
Agent Sparkler stood invisibly outside, next to the glass doors, along with ten other ponies who she’d also turned invisible. Like Pumpkin Cake, Sparkler had kept a small amount of the Alicorn Potion on her person, inside of a vial, so that it could continue to enhance her magic by twenty times indefinitely. Most of the invisible ponies were armed EFA members, but a few were insiders from the Second Kingdom. They all held rifles, ready to fire at any Canterlot police or military who came to break up the pizza party. The authorities hadn’t yet arrived. At least, not officially.
“That’s another police officer I recognize, without a badge and gun, standing in line with everypony else,” whispered Colgate Openwide, who was standing right next to Sparkler. “The tall one with the curly mane. I’d point but, you know, I’m invisible.”
Sparkler chuckled. “Yep. And I see one of the soldiers who stormed the palace during the coup.”
The private stood, wearing nothing but a t-shirt. Other than his buzz-cut and stoic, firm demeanor, there was nothing to distinguish him from the rest of the masses.
“Are they doing recon? Trying to scope out the store before storming it?” asked Colgate.
Sparkler said, “I mean, I guess they could just be tired of eating oranges, and they wanted something saltier with more carbs. Or yeah, they could be doing recon. That’s more likely. You should follow them.”
Colgate quietly whispered, “Okay.”
The line snaked along, and Colgate tailed the officers. But after she got about ten meters away from Sparkler, she was turned visible once more. Even with the alicornium enhancing her magic, Sparkler was still unable to extend invisibility to ponies that far away from her.
Colgate’s heart raced in her chest as she looked down at her now-visible blue coat and striped mane. The private and the cop weren’t looking in her direction, but she was nearly panicking. She needed some alcohol to calm her nerves. Her supply from Agent Sparkler had run out. Being a tipster inside of the Second Kingdom paid good money, and in her case, good booze, too.
After the fiasco with Agent Con Mane’s failed assassination against King Blueblood, the SK authorities had brought Colgate Openwide in for questioning. Multiple witnesses along the parade route had reported seeing her cozy up to the Trottish agent, and she was a prime suspect. But after a blood alcohol test and several favorable witness accounts of ponies who had seen her and Con Mane appear to have just met, the prosecutor declined to press treason charges against Colgate. Merely hitting on an enemy agent wasn’t illegal, since she was drunk and had no idea of his true intentions.
Nevertheless, word got out that she’d been schmoozing with the child killer, and her dental business suffered. Colgate would’ve ended up homeless if Agent Sparkler hadn’t offered her an intel-gathering job: she observed Canterlot police and their patrol routes. Colgate had figured that, since everypony already saw her as a traitor, she might as well actually be one. She also received some basic firearms training.
As the line approached the pizza counter, Colgate breathed a sigh of relief. Neither the cop or the private appeared to be doing anything other than standing in line for pizza.
The police stallion was the first in line, just in front of the private. A scrawny, cream-coated, brown-maned ‘unicorn’ stood at the counter, his ‘horn’ mostly concealed beneath long bangs. Colgate remembered another pony calling him ‘Featherweight’ at one point, which wasn’t a very unicorn-sounding name.
“Okay, what pizza would you like? We have cheese, mushroom, hayseed, fruit lovers...”
“I’ll take hayseed,” said the officer. He narrowed his eyes as Featherweight reached into the box with his hoof and grabbed a hayseed slice to put on a paper plate. The stringy cheese dripped off the sides of the slice as wisps of tantalizing steam wafted from it. Usually, this elicited grins of anticipation from the starving unicorns, but with this officer, it made him frown.
“You know, it’d probably be more sanitary if you used your horn for that. We’re not earth ponies,” the officer snarked.
“Oh, my horn? It’s broken,” said Featherweight.
“Broken?” the officer chuckled. “And what are these signs over here? ‘Restore Fancy Pants’? ‘Surrender to Equestria’?”
“We’re ha-having a protest. That’s n-not illegal under the Second Kingdom c-constitution,” said Featherweight, stuttering slightly as he tried to maintain a customer service grin.
“No, it isn’t,” said the officer. “But being a non-unicorn in Canterlot is.”
The officer removed Featherweight’s horn. Hoops and Dumbbell reached to draw their weapons on him, but he had already magically wrenched the guns away. His own pistol flew out from beneath his coat and pointed at Featherweight. The crowd screamed.
“Canterlot P.D.! You’re under arrest for breaking racial law and conspiring to overthrow the government!”
Colgate’s heart pounded. That was her call. Her horn lit up with trepidation as her gun trembled from its holster around her ankle. She couldn’t get her magic to stop shaking. The jittering gun floated up to align with the head of the officer fifteen meters away...
There was a bang. Colgate jolted. It wasn’t from her gun. It was from the military private standing in line behind the cop. He had shot the cop with his sidearm.
Featherweight, Hoops, and Dumbbell all blinked. Everypony in the line looked towards the private. He shrugged.
“What? I’m hungry. Let’s keep the line moving, everypony,” he said nonchalantly.
The crowd clapped and cheered as Dumbbell came out from behind the counter, grabbed the dead police officer’s body, and shoved it into the freezer. The line then continued as if nothing had happened.
Sparkler and her ten invisible ponies came under assault from other invisible ponies in the Canterlot Urban Warfare battalion. In the parking lot of the grocery store, bullets flew back and forth through the air like angry wasps, with no apparent source or target. All that Pound Cake knew was that Sparkler and the ponies that she had turned invisible were all standing near the entrance to the grocery store, taking cover behind grocery carts, while the invisible urban warfare battalion was firing on them from further out.
The only clue as to the source of the bullets was gunsmoke, but for the urban warfare battalion, simply shooting at the gunsmoke wouldn’t work. A unicorn could hold the gun with magic a few meters beside himself and still fire it, though would be unable to aim as well. But most of the EFA fighters weren’t unicorns, and could be picked off from their own gunsmoke. Dead, now-visible EFA bodies piled up near the door, while only two Urban Warfare bodies lay further out in the parking lot. With each one, Sparkler simply extended her invisibility spell to another one of the fighters, who were being sent out the door as cannon fodder.
Bulky Biceps and Pound Cake had piled up grocery carts in front of the entrance, as bullets shattered the glass doors and grenades burst nearby. The local unicorns who had been lined up for pizza were now hidden behind checkout counters and empty shelves, screaming every time that a bullet flew inside.
“Stay calm! STAY CALM! STAY CALM, DAMMIT!” Bulky Biceps shouted, a little dinky white horn protruding from his big, blond mane. Just like his undersized wings which now were concealed beneath a bulging wife-beater, his undersized fake horn was also quite comical.
“Uh, Bulky, I don’t think that you’re being very calming,” said Pound, chuckling.
“Sorry, Pound,” he said. Then, under his breath, he added, “Our guys are gettin’ creamed out there.”
“Yeah,” said Pound. “We really need to see those ponies so that we can hit them. They’re too close to our guys to rainboom safely.”
“Hmm,” said Bulky Biceps, resting his chin on one of his muscular arms and trying to think through the constant gunfire. “I guess there’s no flour in here, huh?”
“No,” Pound chuckled. He recalled that he and his sister used to dump flour on themselves to make Pinkie Pie laugh. “All the shelves are picked cleaner than a coyote carcass, as the Appleloosans would say. There’s just a bunch of empty shelves, and a Bank of Canterlot branch…”
“Wait,” said Bulky Biceps. “The store has a bank?”
Pound nodded.
“I used to do bank security. I have an idea,” said Bulky Biceps.
He crawled on his hooves and knees under the checkout counters as Pound Cake followed him. Bullets flew through the glass, whizzing by the counters and leaving pockmarks in the side. Once Pound and Biceps were past the glass doors, Biceps started galloping towards the attached bank near the front of the store, and burst into the small lobby.
“You know there’s no money in there, right?” asked Pound Cake. The vaults had all been opened and cleaned out except for a few coins.
“No… not here… not that…” Biceps muttered. After a few moments of searching, he smiled.
“YEAH!”
He held up a hooffull of small, red, square-shaped objects.
“Dye packs,” said Biceps. “If a robber demands money, the teller puts one in his bag, then it explodes and ruins the cash.”
Pound Cake smiled. “I know what to do.”
Pound tore off his jacket to reveal his pegasus wings underneath, and removed his horn, like a superhero taking off his suit and phony glasses. Then he grabbed the dye packs and raced up towards the ceiling, smashing through it.
All of the Urban Warfare fighters were too distracted with fighting to notice as Pound flew over them. Once he was above the general area of the enemy battalion, he threw the dye packs up in the air. He spun around as fast as he could, rotating like a merry-go-round as his rapid, outstretched wings shredded the dye packs to pieces. Thousands of droplets rained from the sky.
The dozen invisible ponies in the Canterlot Urban Warfare battalion were now covered in red dye. In a moment, they were doused in more red from their own blood. The still-invisible EFA pegasi flew over and shot them all point-blank in the head. The few Urban Warriors who escaped left tell-tale hoofprints on the reddened asphault and were now easy marks for the snipers.
After a few minutes, the siege was over. Unicorns from inside of the grocery store started trickling out.
“Don’t... forget... your signs!” Pound Cake called, his head spinning. The ponies didn’t forget. Some of them were on their way home or to the hospital, but most of them were on their way to the main square in front of the presidential palace. Rather than scaring them into submission, being in a grocery store under fire by their country’s own military had merely enraged them. The crushed-up caffeine pills and alcohol baked into the pizza hadn’t hurt, either.
The crowds had grown to ten thousand, then twenty thousand, then thirty thousand. Soon, it seemed as if the entire city of Canterlot had poured into the streets to demand that Top Brass step down and bring back Fancy Pants.
“Fancy Pants! Fancy Pants!” they chanted.
It was now two days later, and the protests were still going strong. The police had used tear gas and water cannons to try to break it up, but these protesters were determined to stay out in the streets. The military had refused to fire on them, since they were protesting peacefully, and were all unicorns. At least, they all appeared to be unicorns, but General Top Brass was convinced that they were fake.
He slammed his hoof into Blueblood’s old mahogany desk. “Dammit! They’re wearing those stupid strap-ons! They’re all earth ponies and pegasi bussed in here from Equestria! Shoot them dead!”
The sergeant standing next to Top Brass blinked.
Peachy Pitt asked, “General, are you telling me that every last one of those thousands of ponies out there is a non-unicorn? And they somehow all snuck into Canterlot without getting caught?”
Top Brass nodded firmly.
Peachy Pitt chuckled. “So basically, you’re calling yourself and the city gatekeepers wholly incompetent for not stopping them.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying!” Top Brass shouted.
“You know, Top Brass…” Peachy started. “You’ve always said that there’s a time to keep fighting, and a time to surrender. We’ve fought as hard as we could. But now our food is almost gone. Maybe the first few thousand protesters were bussed in from Equestria. They all got their mystery pizzas somehow. But now all of these new ones? It’s grown bigger than that. Real unicorn citizens of Canterlot are really upset with your rule, really want peace with Equestria, and really do want to eat again. Hunger drives ponies to desperation. Is that so hard to believe?”
“They’ve occupied everything from Spell Street up to the front of the presidential palace, General,” said the sergeant. “Our troops in the field around the Flatlands and Ponyville are defecting en masse to Equestria just so they can eat. Even here in Canterlot, the protesters have convinced half of the military to lay down their arms. You’re now basically the leader of a few square city blocks. Actually, not even that, because I quit.”
The color drained from Top Brass’ face. “I’ll have you court-martialed, sergeant!”
“With what court?” the sergeant quipped.
“Top Brass,” said Peachy Pitt, putting her hoof on his shoulder. “It’s time to surrender. It’s time to restore Fancy Pants to the presidency. They want him in charge, traitor or not.”
Top Brass’ brow furrowed, but he knew that Peachy Pitt was right. He had fought as hard as he could, but still lost. He wasn’t willing to throw Canterlot into anarchy, but he didn’t want the unicorns subjugated again, and neither did Peachy Pitt. So he made one last act as commander in chief, which would prevent that from happening for a long time.
He ordered the department of taxation, one of the last government agencies that still answered to him, to print out detailed instructions on how to cast every single spell that was banned in Equestria. They then mailed them to every household in Canterlot. If Equestria ever tried to reclaim Canterlot, it would be a medieval magical duel, the likes of which ponykind hadn’t seen since the Wizard Wars in the ancient Empire of Unicornia.
Right as the protesters breached the palace grounds and started pouring inside, General Top Brass teleported away to the airbase with a cadre of a dozen supporters. They took off in planes to the Zebra Empire just as the Equestrian forces overran the airstrip. Peachy Pitt stayed behind.
“Fancy Pants! Fancy Pants!”
He turned over in bed.
“Fancy Pants.”
His eyes opened. The smiling Amethyst Star gazed down at him.
“Huh… what… are those ponies calling out my name?” he asked groggily.
Sparkler nodded. “Yep. We won, Fancy.”
He jolted up. “We won?”
“They’re waiting for you. Top Brass fled. The army’s pledged allegiance to you. The legislature has agreed to a peace treaty. Everypony is so hungry, they’re willing to do anything. The presidency is yours to reclaim.”
“And… you’ll help me negotiate with the princesses? You’ll be at my side?” he asked.
Sparkler nodded. She leaned in and gave Fancy Pants a smooch on the cheek.
“Always.”
“...And you gave the potion to the Mareicopa Resistance? And you deliberately left me in the dark for a week? And you blew up a grenade in Manehattan? And you kept part of the potion?” Twilight Sparkle demanded.
“Take it easy, Twilight,” said Agent Sparkler. “Yes, to all of that. But I had reasons. Giving the Resistance the potion was the only way to rescue those hostages in time. I figured that they’d seize power in Mareicopa afterwards. But I also knew that Pound Cake’s group would stand up. They gathered thousands of protesters, but I needed protesters that wouldn’t just run at the first whiff of trouble. So I set off the grenade in Manehattan to test them. Those who stayed, I took to Canterlot.
“I needed to keep some of the potion—well, charm, really—so that I could sneak them all in, because otherwise I can’t turn other ponies invisible. But with that charm, I could take groups of twenty in at a time. And I left you in the dark because otherwise, you’d have never called that emergency session of parliament that brought the protesters out in the first place. Also, I was a bit too busy gathering supplies to swing by and say hi.”
“But how did you know all of this would work? You were entirely reckless!” Twilight Sparkle shouted.
“You are now terminated from RISK!” Luna shouted in the Royal Manehattan Voice.
Agent Sparkler, now just Amethyst Star, shook her head. “I didn’t know for sure it would work. I took a gamble. My plans don’t always work out, like my first plan to have Fancy Pants installed. But this plan did work, and now there’s a peace treaty on your desk waiting for your signature.”
Twilight looked down at the treaty. “Yeah, the plan worked… not for Equestria, but it worked out for the Second Kingdom just fine! Canterlot gets to keep its independence, they get to stay unicorns-only, and they get free trade in food. All they have to do in return is give up Ponyville, pay reparations to the families of genocide victims, and contribute a token force to fight the Zebras.”
“What is the matter with that deal?” asked President Fancy Pants. “I had to work very hard to strike it. Our treasury can hardly afford reparations, but it’s the right thing to do. And most unicorns are hesitant to attack our former zebra allies. We would contribute more soldiers, but our population is rather battle-fatigued, so we are only accepting volunteers. We expect a few thousand.
Twilight shook her head. “And it says here that I’m supposed to make Amethyst Star… a duchess!?”
“Of course,” said Amethyst Star, smiling. “I’ll be a unicorn duchess, and I’m going to marry Fancy Pants, and it’ll bind our two kingdoms and help ensure that Equestria and the Second Kingdom… er, Duchy, won’t go to war in the future. The ancient kingdoms used to do it. It didn’t always work, but it was better than nothing.”
“We just fired you from being a mere secret agent. Why would we now make you a duchess?” Luna scoffed.
“Oh, let’s see here,” said Amethyst, narrowing her eyes. “Number one, because my plan did in fact work.”
“Not for Equestria, though. For the Second Kingdom,” Twilight reiterated. “Thanks to your plan we still have Pumpkin Cake to deal with.”
“No, you still have Pumpkin Cake to deal with. Little miss sorceress isn’t my problem anymore, and neither is her pigheaded brother. Now where was I? Oh yeah, number two, you should make me a duchess because thanks to that Alicorn Charm, I’m now the most powerful unicorn alive, and intend to stay that way. Otherwise, an Equestrian would have no prayer of being accepted as the wife of the Second Kingdom’s leader. But they respect magical power over there: it’s pretty much all they respect. I can protect Fancy Pants, and there won’t be any more pesky coups with me by his side. And that was how you got your crown, right, Twilight? By being good at magic? If you can be a princess, surely I can be a duchess.”
“I didn’t cheat and use some Alicorn Charm to get my crown!” Twilight exclaimed.
Sparkler rolled her eyes. “No, you just cheated and used the Elements of Harmony. Big difference. But go ahead, just keep saying how you got it all on your own with no help from a charm or your friends. Where’s Princess Rarity, by the way?”
“I say, that would be delightful! What a charming young mare she is. Almost as charming as you, darling,” said Fancy Pants. Amethyst Star giggled and blushed. Twilight Sparkle thought she’d throw up.
“I think you should sign this treaty, Twilight,” said General Spitfire. “We could really use some more unicorns on the western front, especially battle-hardened ones like the Second Kingdom’s soldiers. Don’t be fooled by their armor loss to Pumpkin Cake: that was a fluke, and they’re still good fighters capable in magic. The zebras are gaining strength, and Tall Tale is just barely hanging by a thread. It’ll be especially vulnerable with Zecora’s ruling coming up, regardless of the outcome.”
Amethyst Star said, “Sounds like you’re in trouble with the Zebras, Twilight. And who knows if the standoff in Mareicopa will blow up. You need all the friends you can get. Didn’t ol’ Celestia always tell you to make more friends?”
Twilight Sparkle sighed. Princess Celestia had told her that. And Amethyst Star was a longtime personal friend of hers. They had certainly had their differences when it came to tactics, but Agent Sparkler had remained loyal despite all of the moles in RISK and chances that she had to sell out. Even this most recent plan, despite its setback with the Mareicopa Resistance, was largely a success, and could bring peace between the new Second Duchy and Equestria. Agent Sparkler had done the best that she could on her mission of bringing this peace, which was now just a pen stroke away. If it meant granting her a title of nobility, then fine. Despite all of Amethyst Star’s flaws and mistakes, Twilight Sparkle could hardly think of anypony more deserving of being called ‘duchess.’
The Second Kingdom and Equestria deserved to be at peace, even if that meant that Canterlot was still unicorns-only and independent. Twilight Sparkle fondly recalled her childhood memories of her hometown, from her happy time as a student in Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns to the beautiful view of all of Equestria from the mountaintop. She lamented that it would remain separated from Equestria. But she also had known a few unicorn supremacists growing up in Canterlot. It had been their secret, lifelong desire to establish a unicorn-only kingdom. Now that they had it, it could never return to Equestria without millions of deaths on both sides, with Canterlot a total ruin, anyway. The fratricidal war had to end. If that meant giving up Canterlot, then that would have to do.
She grabbed the pen in her magic and signed the treaty. General Spitfire, Fancy Pants, and the soon-to-be Duchess Sparkler smiled. And then, so did Twilight Sparkle. Even Luna stoically nodded, although grudgingly.
Now, before the final showdown with the Zebra Empire, there was just one last loose end for Twilight Sparkle to resolve.
Pumpkin Cake floated up to the window to the conference room high above the streets of Manehattan, her eyes scanning the wall for any sort of anti-magic faraday cage. Just to be certain, she cast the intangibility spell on the wall. It worked as intended. Confident that she could not be magically disarmed, she floated inside.
“Well, that’s one way to make an entrance,” Pound Cake scoffed. “Mind joining the rest of us here in the second dimension?”
“No. I’m not making myself vulnerable. There’s been nothing but trickery and lies from the princess. You know this as well as I do, Pound Cake.”
Pound chuckled. “Oh, sure, I know she’s corrupt, but I at least try to act in good faith. If Twilight kills me, then she kills me.”
“Uh, you twins know that I’m sitting right here, don’t you?” asked Twilight Sparkle, rather perturbed.
Ignoring her, Pound asked, “Pumpkin, how are you even talking while intangible, anyway?”
“Magical voice spell. My DJ friend taught me,” Pumpkin answered.
Twilight Sparkle said, “Pumpkin Cake, surely you must know that I’m taking a risk in this meeting, too? You could rip my heart out or something. Notice that I have no guards in this room.”
“No guards that I can see. I’m not an idiot, Twilight.”
Twilight shrugged. “Stay intangible for the whole meeting if you want; I don’t care. I just want to resolve this Mareicopa situation.”
“What, with more lies?” Pumpkin scoffed. “Your parliament didn’t change the laws like Agent Sparkler promised. They couldn’t even pass a watered-down bill that barely would’ve changed anything.”
“Because we got out there and took a stand against your terrorism, and showed that the parliament can’t be bullied into passing laws,” said Pound Cake.
“That press conference wasn’t terrorism,” said Pumpkin. “Would you like to see real terrorism, Pound Cake? Push me far enough and you will. I can destroy your entire EFA group in an afternoon. I can bring entire armies to their knees. I can have the entire country in panic, begging for mercy.”
“I could do all that stuff, too!" Pound shouted. "I could blow up your whole town! All of your stupid drug addict ravers would never hear any of their beats again without eardrums. I have the sonic rainboom!”
Pumpkin scoffed. “A pathetic little fireworks display.”
Twilight held up her hoof. “Twins, could you please try to be civil? Nopony is talking about war or destroying armies or whatever else. We’re just talking about the magic laws. Now, we all need to settle down and compromise. You two are twins, remember? You shared a womb together. Don’t you love each other?”
“...yes. I love Pumpkin Cake, but she’s an idiot.”
“I love Pound Cake, but hate what he’s done.”
“But at least that’s a start!” Twilight exclaimed, smiling. “Now, part of love is give and take. You have to make compromises. But you’re willing to, because you love another pony. Also, because you want peace. Aren’t you both tired of fighting by now? You’re both young adults with your whole lives ahead of you.”
Pound and Pumpkin both nodded.
“I have a compromise,” said Twilight. “Now, I couldn’t get parliament to agree to change the magic laws. They’ll stay at least until after the elections in December.”
Pound Cake grinned, while Pumpkin Cake scowled.
Twilight continued, “But since Parliament will have to pass a bill reclaiming Mareicopa as part of Equestria, anyway, I did get them to agree on a special status for the city.”
“Special status?” both twins asked in unison.
“Yes. Mareicopa will be elevated to Special District, even above the state level. It’ll be like the buffalo reservations. You know how you can gamble there, even though that’s illegal in other places in Equestria? Well, Mareicopa will be able to pass its own tax laws, gambling laws… and magic laws. It’ll have its own courts, parliament, and police force. It will in effect be its own nation, except that it will share passports, currency, and common defense with Equestria. Mareicopa won’t be independent, but it will be as close as possible.”
This time, it was Pumpkin Cake who smiled, but Pound who looked dour.
“That’s totally unfair to the rest of Equestria! Why should Mareicopa get a special status, but no other cities? If not every city has a special status, none of them should get it,” said Pound Cake. “Also, what’s to stop ponies from going to Mareicopa and learning illegal spells, and then going to the rest of Equestria and using them?”
Pumpkin asked, “What happens if Equestria decides to revoke this special status years from now? We have no guarantee.”
Twilight answered, “Obviously, the agreement isn’t perfect. In answer to you, Pound Cake, not every city can have a special status because not every city wants or needs a special status. It will be difficult, expensive work for Mareicopa to make its own courts and parliament. In the rest of Equestria, we can try our best to prevent “magic tourism” with increased policing. To answer you, Pumpkin, I can’t guarantee that a future parliament won’t decide to revoke the special status someday. But you’ll be allowed to keep your tanks and weapons, as long as you keep them in storage. That will offer you at least some security.”
“I guess I can accept the deal… but I don’t like it very much. As long as Pumpkin’s rebels stand down and quit terrorizing Mareicopa,” said Pound Cake. “But the EFA will be reporting every single magic law violation in the rest of Equestria that it sees, from back-alley voodoo abortions, all the way up to large-scale WINI fraud.”
Pumpkin said, “I can accept the deal, but any unicorn civil rights violations anywhere in Equestria must stop. The age of corrupt, racist police must end.”
Twilight Sparkle said, “We’ll enforce the magic laws more justly. I’ll instruct all Equestrian police officers to undergo sensitivity training so that they don’t suspect unicorns just for having a horn. That will free up their time to pursue the serious sorts of violations that Pound Cake just mentioned.”
The twins both nodded.
Twilight said, “Alright, I’ll sign this bill into law. But there is one last thing that I wanted to address, separate from all of that. Pumpkin Cake… you have the dregs of a magic enhancing potion. A charm, of sorts. I’d like for you to give it back.”
“No.”
Pound said, “Nopony should be allowed that much power, sis. You remember the stories of what happened with Trixie in Ponyville, right? Having that sort of power will just corrupt you and turn you into a monster. I’m asking you as a brother who loves you, who doesn’t want to see you go down that road. Please, give it up. It’s too much power for a single pony!”
“Why don’t you give up the sonic rainboom, Pound Cake? After all, nopony should be allowed to demolish entire buildings at once like you. It’s too much power for a single pony!” She mimicked her brother’s stentorian voice with the projection spell.
“That’s different!” said Pound Cake. “That’s something that I was born with! It’s part of me.”
“Well why doesn’t Twilight Sparkle give up being an alicorn? She was born a unicorn like me. After all, no one pony should be allowed power over the sun and moon. It’s too much power for a single pony!”
“That’s also different,” said Twilight Sparkle. “When I became an alicorn, it magically changed my being. Just like with Pound, it’s part of me. And Equestria needs me. I can’t just go back.”
Pumpkin responded, “Well, Mareicopa needs me. I can’t just give up the city’s best defense: my magic. And I know that you can’t force me to, or else you already would’ve.”
Twilight hung her head low. “You’re right, Pumpkin. I can’t force you to give up the charm. Even with it, you don’t have as much raw power as I do, but you have that intangibility spell, and I can’t easily counteract that. But recall what I told you many years ago when you were a filly, and you came to me in Ponyville for cutie mark advice. Do you remember that, Pumpkin Cake?”
“Yes, that was right before you tried to have me and the others killed in that barn. I remember it well.”
Ignoring the jab, Twilight continued, “Do you remember what I said? I said that you were a good, kindhearted pony, and that even though you had powerful magic that you could abuse if you wanted, you would nevertheless remain honorable. I believe that’s still true. Your heroism at the stadium shows it. So please don’t prove me wrong by abusing your power. If you insist on keeping the Alicorn Charm, please be responsible. Don’t let it corrupt you. Don’t become another Trixie.”
Pumpkin chuckled. “I killed Trixie. There’s no danger of me becoming her. I just want to be left alone, and I’ll leave everypony else alone.”
Twilight Sparkle smiled. “Good. Because even though I can’t stop that particular spell, I can still stop you if you get out of hoof. Your doctors aren’t the only ones who know voodoo. I know you’ve been through a lot, Pumpkin, and you can get therapy or do whatever else you need to cope. But I will not allow you to abuse your power or hurt ponies.”
Twilight turned to Pound. “The exact same goes for you, Pound Cake. Now that we’re at peace with the SK, I’d better not see you using that sonic rainboom against anyone but the zebras.”
He shook his head. “I’m done with war. I want to be an activist and fight corruption... with ballots, not bullets.”
Twilight turned to Pumpkin. “And you, Pumpkin? What will you do?”
Pumpkin shrugged. “I’m not quite sure... I really want to be a doctor, but there’s so much college I would have to take, and it costs so much money. I’m broke and I don’t even have a high school diploma yet. I can’t even enroll in classes until January. I don’t know. It’s so much work. After all the fighting I’ve done, I’m just tired. I just want to rest awhile.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “I understand. And you both have sacrificed so much in the war. For Ponyville. For Appleloosa. For Mareicopa. For Manehattan. For Equestria. You have my eternal gratitude for your service.”
She took out her pen and signed her name on the Special Status bill. She and the twins smiled as it became the law of the land.
Twilight said, “Now go live long and happy lives in the peace that you’ve so bravely won.”
After the twins had left the meeting, Princess Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. The standoff at Mareicopa would be resolved without bloodshed. Hopefully both the magicians and the magic law proponents would be pleased with the compromise. The Cake twins would no longer be out on the battlefield, and would have constructive things to work on.
Pound Cake did seem more eager in that regard, and Twilight only wished that Pumpkin Cake, too, had something positive to do with her life instead of sit around all day. Without some higher purpose or lifeward goal to occupy her thoughts, Pumpkin Cake’s mind might be free to wander and plan schemes that could potentially threaten the stability of Equestria. Ponies in prison or mental institutions were often paid to do jobs for that very reason: to keep them busy and give them an incentive not to act up.
But even if Pumpkin or Pound ever became threats, Twilight Sparkle was fully capable of handling them herself or having a RISK agent do it. But hopefully that wouldn’t be necessary. With the magic law situation resolved, now Twilight could turn her full attention towards the western front with the zebras, where it belonged.
Fluttershy, Rarity, and Alpha Rover stood on the slopes of Starswirl Mountain just outside of Tall Tale. Off in the distance, bombs exploded out at sea as pegasi flew to fend off the invading fleets of zebras. They were holding them off, but barely.
“And then here, I sense a large deposit about five feet inward,” said Rarity. A single red flag marker floated from her saddlebag and planted itself daintily into the ground. Hundreds of flags were placed all across the mountain, dotting its face like acne on a pimply teen.
“We hit the jackpot!” Rover exclaimed, rubbing his paws together as he panted.
Fluttershy simply shook her head. Though the treaty didn’t allow the Diamond Dogs to mine the mountain until after the war, it did allow prospecting activities for securing a loan and planning the operation.
“Oh dear,” said Fluttershy.
“Fluttershy, darling, what is it?” asked Rarity, her eyebrow raised.
“There’s way too many flags,” said Fluttershy. “I was just expecting a few. The diamonds aren’t buried in veins? There aren’t any deeper inside the mountain?”
Rarity said, “Most of these gems are scattered all around, close to the surface. I’m not sensing very much in the interior.”
“Then we make strip mine,” said Rover.
Fluttershy blinked. “Strip mine? Uh, that wasn’t what we agreed on. You said tunnels during the meeting.”
“I no say tunnel. You hear tunnel, but I no say tunnel. I say ‘mine’. There all sorts of minesies. Tunnels, open pit, panning, blasting, and strip mining. We get these gems with strip mine.”
“The treaty says that the Diamond Dogs are allowed to mine Starswirl Peak, Fluttershy. It’s not specific as to what sort of mining operation, just that it has to follow environmental law,” said Rarity.
Fluttershy nodded. “Which means no strip mining. The law and the treaty that you signed is very clear: the spotted moles are an endangered species. They can’t be harmed or killed. A stip mine would kill them. Strip mining is the most harmful form of mining. It can cause sulfates, quicksilver, lead, and other harmful metals to leach into the environment. It can trigger landslides. It’s not like a tunnel where only a small area of the surface is disturbed and the mine is inside of the mountain itself. Strip mining would disturb all of the soil and deprive the moles of their habitats and the grubs they eat.”
“Then we’ll transport the moles into captivity, and bring them back when we’re done,” said Rarity.
“You’d have to do reclamation on this whole area. Soil would have to be restored. Trees, bushes, and grasses would have to be replanted. Worms, insects, birds, foxes, cougars, bears, and goats would all have to be reintroduced and allowed to readjust so that the moles could then fill their niche again.”
“Reclamation? That cost way too much monies! This not in treaty!” Rover exclaimed.
Fluttershy shrugged. “The treaty says you have to follow environmental laws. Those are the laws specific to strip mines.”
“It will cost millions and millions of bits extra to implement the mining procedures that Fluttershy wants. Housing and feeding these prissy, picky moles just right will cost even more millions. Then the reclamation operation could cost a hundred million bits by itself!” Rarity exclaimed. “Pursuit Bank will never approve a loan that large! This project will never get off the ground—in the ground, rather—without enough capital.”
Spreadsheets, graphs, and budgets for the mining proposal floated in Rarity’s magic as Twilight Sparkle looked them over. She shook her head. She didn’t know too much about business herself, which was why she had the Equestrian Economic Council to advise her. But she did know a few basics about budgeting, and the charts didn’t look good.
“Will it be profitable, at least?” asked Twilight Sparkle.
Rarity shook her head. “Breaking even is doubtful, let alone making a good return on investment. I haven’t even accounted for any possible fines that we might have to pay. The treaty simply must be modified, Twilight.”
Twilight sighed. “The treaty says that the mining operation is subject to Equestrian environmental laws and regulations. That’s Fluttershy’s prerogative. I’ve already made a big concession by allowing mining in national lands in the first place. I can’t also allow the Diamond Dogs to cut corners and pollute horribly. Parliament would have my head. The latest polls show the conservationist, environmental parties are poised to gain about forty seats in the elections this December. Alrica Pones really won a lot of hearts and minds with her speech. So I’ll have to try to work with them to pass legislation. I don’t want to poison the well with them before that.”
“But what of Tall Tale and Vanhoover? If the Diamond Dogs pull out of the treaty, then we could be at risk for those cities falling,” said Rarity.
Twilight Sparkle smiled. “I’m in a better position now than when I signed that treaty. We’re at peace with the SK now, so more soldiers can be rotated to the west coast. Plus, the treaty obligates Duke Fancy Pants to send volunteers to help us. I’d still love the Diamond Dogs as allies, too, just to have a bigger margin of error. But they’re no longer critical. If they don’t like the treaty and don’t think it’s profitable, then they can just pull out with no hard feelings. But at this point, I’m not modifying the treaty and putting the environment at further risk for their few thousand fighters.”
Rarity hung her head low. “What a shame. Though I understand. Let us hope that my advance order customers will be forgiving that they won’t receive their pink diamond jewelry. I only wish that there were some possible way to mine the gems without disturbing the poor moles.”
Twilight’s head jolted. Of course.
“Rarity, I think I can fix two problems with one solution!” Twilight exclaimed, smiling. “Do you remember Pumpkin Cake? Mr. and Mrs. Cake’s daughter?”
Rarity nodded. “Yes, and what a tense standoff in Mareicopa that was with her militia. I am happy to hear that you resolved that without bloodshed. She was such a sweet and quiet filly in Ponyville, and I never would’ve expected anything like that from her. Though I suppose that a war can turn ponies mad.”
Twilight smiled. “Pumpkin Cake is still very caring and kind. Remember that she helped save forty thousand hostages. She was just in a difficult place in her life, as was Pound Cake, but the magic of friendship helped them make a compromise. And now, I hope that the magic of intangibility can help you still get those gems. Are you familiar with that spell?”
“I know of it, though I don’t know it. Very few ponies do, yes?” asked Rarity.
“Pumpkin Cake does. In fact, intangibility is her special talent. With that spell, she could help you get those gems out of the mountain without disturbing the moles. As it just so happens, right now she needs a job and she needs money.”
Rarity smiled widely. “Fantastic! I’ll extend her an offer post haste!”
Mareicopa: Two Weeks Later
Pumpkin Cake was lying on the couch at Trixie’s house, her head spinning with the joyous enchantment of the Want-It, Need-It spell. With the Alicorn Charm, she had been able to make the spell more powerful and last for many hours.
The times that she was under the spell were the only times that she could reliably stop her mind from wandering onto the awful things. Her dead parents, her idiotic brother, her months of torment with Trixie, her accidentally losing focus and crushing dozens of ponies to death at the stadium, and her regrets at there not being more survivors. All of it just washed away in a flood of pure happiness. If she could stay under WINI forever, she would. Unfortunately, she still had to break her concentration so that she could eat, sleep, defecate, menstruate, and all sorts of other degrading, demeaning pony things like that.
So Pumpkin decided that she would perfect a spell to escape being flesh and bone, and permanently turn into a plant and live off photosynthesis. Preferably a clonal tree like an aspen since those could live for thousands of years. Then she would never have to do anything else again but just sit there in a permanent nirvana of magical euphoria. As an agnostic, it was the closest thing to ‘heaven’ that she could hope for. Pumpkin Cake had only ever transformed into a plant once, about a week ago. Even with the Alicorn Charm, it was challenging. After great effort she had changed into a pumpkin vine, ironically enough. It was an amazing experience, but it only lasted for thirty minutes until the spell reverted. So for now she still had to put up with life’s annoyances and interruptions.
One such interruption was a knock at the door. Though she didn’t really want to, Pumpkin Cake mustered up the magical energy to teleport over and answer it. For all she knew, it was something important.
“Hello?” asked Pumpkin, wincing her eyes as the blinding Mareicopa sun poured in through the doorframe. She stretched her legs, which she hadn’t stood on all day.
A white-coated, purple-maned, almost angelic unicorn mare stood there, wearing a nice business dress and holding a binder in her magic. Upon seeing Pumpkin Cake’s appearance, the mare winced slightly, as Pumpkin had not bathed in several days and her mane was quite greasy, tousled, and full of split ends.
Nevertheless, the mare smiled and maintained a friendly tone in her voice. “Good day, Miss Cake. Have I come at a bad time?”
Pumpkin chuckled. “Uh, that depends. Who are you?”
“My name is Rarity, and I am an entrepreneur, fashionista, philanthropist, and former Element of Harmony… but enough about me,” said Rarity, blushing slightly. “I’m here about you! I want to make you an offer that is too good to pass up.”
Pumpkin narrowed her eyes. She had gotten these kinds of solicitations before, and they were most unwelcome.
“Sorry, I’m not interested in joining your church,” said Pumpkin, as the door handle glowed blue and the door began to creak shut.
Rarity put up her hoof. “But wait, you haven’t even heard my offer yet!”
Pumpkin chuckled. “What, eternal joy? Yeah, I’m working on getting that… myself. I’m not waiting on some holy handout. If god even exists, I think he’d want us to work towards our goals by ourselves. He’s certainly never helped me.”
Rarity chuckled back. “Oh, darling, I’m afraid that I can’t offer you everlasting joy or anything quite that lavish. And I am no church, though I do give rather religiously to charity. I come not with a pamphlet, but a contract. I’m a businessmare, and I have a proposal that I believe will make us both a fair amount of money.”
Pumpkin raised an eyebrow. She could always use more money for food, water, other essentials. Even once she was a tree, she’d still need to pay property tax on the land she was rooted into. Thousands of years of taxes could get expensive.
“I’m listening.”
Rarity said, “I understand that you are able to use a rare intangibility spell. There is a mountain near Tall Tale called Starswirl Peak. Many gems are buried inside. But the trouble is, we can't mine them through normal methods without disturbing endangered moles. So I have come to you with a proposal. I will find the gems with my gem detection magic. Then you will extract the gems with intangibility. We will split the profits 50/50, though 10% of our gross revenues will go to charity.”
“How much money are we talking about?” asked Pumpkin.
Rarity answered, “I can show you the business proposal, but to give you an idea, the gross price of a rough, one-carat pink diamond is three thousand bits. Based on my prospecting, I estimate there to be at least ten thousand carats of pink diamonds in this mountain. I am sure that you can do the math yourself. And there are other types of gemstones in that mountain, too: rubies, sapphires, topaz. While not as valuable as pink diamonds, there are far more of them, and each can make a beautiful piece of jewelry. The two of us together could earn up to a hundred million bits from this mountain. But only if we cut out the middledog and directly extract the gems ourselves. It will be difficult, sweaty and dirty work. But it will pay out tremendously.”
Pumpkin smiled. She would do it. She would help ‘mine’ the mountain. Then she would have more money than she knew what to do with. Then she could afford to go to medical school and be a doctor for a while. It might be challenging, but there was something rewarding about overcoming a challenge that a mere spell couldn’t replicate. Maybe she’d turn into a tree during retirement, when she was skilled enough after decades of magic use to cast a permanent shape-changing spell. Pumpkin had the rest of her natural life to figure out how.
“I’ll do it,” said Pumpkin. Rarity smiled.
Then Pumpkin asked, “Wait a minute. Middledog?”
Rarity giggled. “Yes, my former partners in this venture were the Diamond Dogs, a canid race. Rather simple and brutish, but good at digging. But now that we won’t be digging, we won’t need them anymore.”
“Huh,” said Pumpkin. “Hopefully they won’t be upset about losing their jobs.”
“Those backstabbing ponies! They makes us think we can mine mountain, then they call backsies when we wants strip mining! Now we have no gemmmmsss!”
Rover gnashed his teeth in rage, rabidly barking over and over again.
Emperor Zaporizhia shook his head. “When you align with the evil ones against the chosen people of God, what do you expect but misery and God’s punishment?”
“And what god but dog spelled backwards? God no matter to doggies. Make point, Zappy,” Rover barked.
“That is Zaporizhia, thank you,” said Emperor Zaporizhia. “And god certainly should matter to you. Though the zebras are his chosen people, he also establishes a caste system in Zoolokai 7:17. ‘Behold, I give to my chosen people dominion over all talking races of the earth. To those talking beings, I give dominion to all of the dumb animals of the field.'”
“Uh…” said Rover, scratching his head with his paw.
Zaporizhia clarified, “As the chosen people, zebras have unquestioned rule over all talking beings: ponies, griffons, and even you Diamond Dogs. But as Diamond Dogs, you have unquestioned rule over the common animals. The moles. The eagles. All of those ‘endangered species.’ Join the Zebra Empire, and you shall mine all of the gems in all the mountains of Equestria, with no environmental laws to constrain you.”
Rover started panting again, gazing in every direction in Zaporizhia’s office. “Where treaty? Where? I sign it right now!”
Zaporizhia shook his head. “There will be no written treaty. Equestria can’t know of your treachery until the moment that we are ready to overtake the cities of Tall Tale and Vanhoover. We expect to make a breakthrough in February when the result of Zecora’s lawsuit is announced.”
“And what we do ‘til then?”
Zaporizhia smiled. “You do what you’re best at. Undermining.”
The Canterlot Cathedral, a towering white-marble building, had a grand history stretching through the ages. Starswirl the Bearded had his funeral here. Princess Cadance and Shining Armor had gotten married here. Now it hosted another historic wedding. Hundreds of unicorns sat in the pews and clapped as the bride, the newly-crowned Duchess Sparkler, walked down the aisle in her flowing white dress.
In the four months since she and Fancy Pants had come to power and negotiated peace with Equestria, the famines had stopped in Canterlot. The deadly war against Equestria had stopped, with only the battle against the Zebra Empire still ongoing. Thanks to trade being allowed with Equestria again, the economy had improved in the last quarter of 2025. Even though Amethyst Star was from Equestria, most unicorns were quite pleased with her, and were eager to see her marry Fancy Pants.
Some ponies doubted her for various reasons. Some didn’t trust Equestrians at all and thought that she’d eventually sell out Canterlot to non-unicorns. Some despised titles of nobility and wanted the Second Kingdom to become a Republic. Despite Sparkler’s fancy title as duchess, and her fiancé's claim to being president, she was effectively a dictator. Even Fancy Pants dared not sign a single bill or give a single order without clearing it with Amethyst Star, first. Given that, Fancy Pants’ name was rather ironic: Sparkler wore the pants.
Using her many years of experience with spycraft, Amethyst Star had established a new intelligence service in Canterlot, called the Second Shadows, to replace Blueblood’s intelligence services, and to rival the Royal Institute of Secret Knowledge in Equestria. The Second Shadows had successfully thwarted all plots against Duchess Sparkler’s life. They had obliterated all evidence that Fancy Pants had killed Blueblood. Top Brass’ prior public accusations were merely played up as lies he told to attain power. The Second Shadows had no moles, because agents didn’t apply to be part of the Second Shadows. It took no applications. It gave applications. Sparkler invisibly followed and hoof-picked every prospective agent herself.
If you want something done right… she thought. She just hoped that these agents worked better than some of the partisans she had chosen in Mareicopa.
Over the months, Amethyst Star had firmly convinced Canterlot of her dedication to the unicorn race and to unicorn independence. She had convinced Peachy Pitt, who was responsible for Canterlot’s first successful winter wheat crop, grown by unicorns for unicorns. In reality, Amethyst Star was no Blueblood, no idealogue. But she knew that she was the supreme unicorn, thanks to the Alicorn Charm, and knew that in terms of raw power, unicorns were the most capable of the three pony races. The unicorns of Canterlot could never accept rejoining Equestria. So Sparkler knew that she might as well ensure that a war wouldn’t break out again. That required her absolute power over the Second Duchy for as long as she lived. Once she wrestled a few constitutional changes out of the legislative branch through use of blackmail, Fancy Pants would be president-for-life. And hopefully, it would be a very long and happy life.
She had just needed to talk to one last pony: the groom himself. The last night that she had seen him before the wedding, they’d been lying in bed together, when Fancy Pants turned to her.
He had asked, “Amethyst Star… do you really love me? Is this merely a marriage of convenience, or one of true love? Is it passion, or another one of your plays?”
She had pretended to be asleep, but Fancy Pants had been wise to her, and asked yet again. Amethyst Star sat up in bed. Sarcasm had always come easy for her, but speaking about love or compassion was harder.
“I… well… you see…”
Fancy Pants’ lower lip had trembled.
“Fancy… I’ve been a secret agent for years,” Amethyst Star had said. “I’ve slept with hundreds of stallions around the world. All of them, I’ve pretended to have feelings for, for tactical objectives. That infidelity cost me my first husband, and he wouldn’t listen when I said it was all business and no pleasure. When he left me, it broke my heart, since I birthed his children. I grew cold and withdrawn. Snarky, sarcastic. I swore I’d never love another stallion again.
“When I first met you, it was more of the same. Tactical objectives. That was why I slept with you at first. No true feelings involved. But then… it became something more over the months. You went from just being a useful pawn to somepony that I truly cared about. I first realized it when Pumpkin Cake tried to kill you in Mareicopa. I realized that, not only would my plans fail if she killed you, but that I would personally be devastated.
“They always tell you not to get too attached in my line of work, because ponies have a funny way of dying. But I couldn’t help it. You were different. Every other politician I’ve met just looks out for himself. But you really care about other ponies, about me. Just like I truly care about preserving peace. We both want the best for our people. I’m no longer a secret agent, and I’m nearly in my sixties. I want to settle down and retire. There is nopony else who I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. Somepony who is caring and compassionate, who I can give my heart to. Fancy Pants, I truly love you.”
He hadn’t said ‘I love you’ back. He merely nodded as if contemplating, and went back to bed. They hadn’t spoken since, as they’d been busy with wedding preparations. Sparkler was rather anxious. Would Fancy Pants back out at the last second?
As she walked down the aisle, her wide smiles to her subjects masked the anticipation within. She and a tuxedoed Fancy Pants stood before the priest, who read the vows that the two of them had prepared. As a duchess, Amethyst Star’s vows were first.
“Do you, Duchess Amethyst Star, promise to be faithful to President Fancy Pants and the peace between Equestria and Canterlot that your marriage to him represents? Do you promise to love Fancy Pants, to care for him, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, as long as you both shall live?”
With no hesitation, and with a straight face, Amethyst Star said, “I do.”
The priest turned to Fancy Pants. “And do you, President Fancy Pants, promise to be faithful to Duchess Amethyst Star? Do you promise to love Amethyst Star, to care for her, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, as long as you both shall live?”
Fancy Pants cleared his throat nervously, slightly adjusting his bow-tie. He gazed into Amethyst Star’s eyes. A few seconds passed as the crowd and the bride waited in anticipation.
Finally, he smiled widely.
“I do.”
Starswirl Peak, February 1st, 2026
The glittering pink, blue, red, and green of bright gems glinted off of the late afternoon sunlight. They floated in clumps from the mountainside and into a tin bucket, passing through the rock and leaving no trace that they’d ever been inside.
Pumpkin Cake smiled as her breath fogged up the cold winter air. These gems were worth at least ten thousand Equestrian bits, and she’d earned it in just three minutes. The gems clinked into the bucket like golden bits into her bank account.
“Pumpkin! I’ve found more gems in this direction!” Rarity beckoned.
Pumpkin nodded and walked over, her hooves crunching as they compacted the freshly fallen snow. Normally, she teleported any distance more than ten meters or so, but wanted to save her magical energy for extracting gems. Her legs had actually gotten quite bulky since she’d started walking all around the mountain every day for months.
Rarity and Pumpkin Cake made the best team, and had extracted tens of thousands of gemstones together since October when they’d begun ‘mining’ the mountain as the partnership Magic Mining Mares, LLP. Rarity’s magic was sensitive and could detect even the smallest gemstones, and she could precisely communicate with telepathy where they were. Pumpkin was skilled in telekinesis and intangibility and could remove them like a magnet pulling iron filings from the sand. Both ponies were dedicated workers, working seventy hour weeks.
Such a mining operation was unheard of. Normally, teams of miners mined ore from stone, and it took all day for them to mine an area of rock that only took Pumpkin ten minutes to extract gems from. And by grabbing them directly, there were no refining costs. The Mining Mares’ method was quite efficient, and the cost savings could go to the partners as profit. Rarity did end up giving more of their money away to charity than Pumpkin would have personally given, but she still had plenty.
Pumpkin Cake was now worth fifteen million bits. Though she was too busy working to do it herself, and didn’t know the first thing about finance, she did have good financial planners managing her money and investing it wisely. In addition to about five million deposited in various banks and financial institutions, Pumpkin also had millions in mutual funds and ETFs that invested in stocks and bonds.
She’d also spent about five million on various personal expenditures. She’d bought a huge plot of land in the Unicorn Range foothills that, someday, would hopefully house her aspen form when she could finally transition to ‘postequine.’ In a trust fund, she’d deposited the money to pay at least 1,000 years of property taxes at current rates. She’d bought a new house in Mareicopa, because Trixie’s house was rather awkward. It was in a nice area in a gated community, but nothing too fancy: it actually had less finished square footage than Trixie’s house. Pumpkin had also spent money lobbying the new Mareicopa Parliament and local government, and Mareicopa had repealed all magic laws.
Finally, Pumpkin had bought a barracks, armory, and training facility for the Mareicopa Resistance, which had changed its name to the Mareicopa Militia. They no longer patrolled the streets of Copa as they had back in October; that job was now for the official local police. However, the Mareicopa Militia had sent volunteers to fight against the Zebras in Tall Tale and Vanhoover. Twilight Sparkle looked the other way and tolerated an armed group in Equestria since they were fighting the zebras, just as she’d tolerated the ASDF in Appleloosa.
As for the want-it, need-it spell, Pumpkin Cake still cast it occasionally, though she didn’t have nearly as much time to be under that spell as she had when she wasn’t working. But thankfully, as time went on she found that she didn’t have as large of a need or desire to be under the spell as she’d had before, anyway.
Rarity placed her horn against Pumpkin Cake’s, and telepathically conveyed the exact locations of the gems inside of that area of the mountain. Pumpkin extracted them over the next thirty minutes, as this was a large cluster.
“It looks as though we have a full load. Shall we call it a day?” asked Rarity.
Pumpkin nodded. “You know what tomorrow is?”
Rarity smiled. “Of course I do! It’s your sixteenth birthday!”
“That’s right. Finally, I’m an adult.”
Sixteen was the official age of adulthood in Equestria. Ponies could vote, marry, fight in combat, enter into binding contracts, and buy alcohol and cigarettes at age sixteen. Only a few privileges, like the ability to rent certain vehicles or run for high public office, were set higher than sixteen.
Rarity asked, “Will you be going to that birthday party in Whinnsylvania?”
Pumpkin chuckled. “Oh... I don’t know...”
Pinkie Pie was throwing a gigantic party at the rock farm in Whinnsylvania the next day for Pound Cake, at his request. The farm was only fifty miles from Fillydelphia, so all of the top-ranking EFA members and personal friends of Pound would attend. But Pinkie Pie had insisted on extending the party to also be for to Pumpkin, since it was her birthday, too. She promised to put her name on the cake if she came, and told her that she could also invite her own friends.
“You’re twins! I mean, you were born on the same day from the same mother, for crying out loud. Your sixteenth birthday should be together!” Pinkie had practically shouted to Pumpkin over the phone.
Despite Pound’s stupidity sometimes, Pumpkin would‘ve liked to see her brother again, as she hadn’t in months. But she just didn’t want to get into any political debates. She’d planned on merely calling her brother on the phone, wishing him a happy birthday, maybe making small talk with him for a few minutes, then hanging up. If she were to visit him and his friends in Whinnsylvania, that could present opportunities for arguments.
“I can go with you, if you’d like,” Rarity offered. “A lady is never confrontational, but if your brother is rude, then I will certainly intervene in a befitting manner.”
“You’re just one pony, though. Pound’s friends will all be there.”
Rarity smiled. “Then bring your friends.”
The Rock Farm, February 2nd
Pound Cake, Featherweight, Raindrops, Lyra Heartstrings, Bon Bon, Hoops, Doctor Stable, and Rainbow Dash stepped out of their sky-bus that Bulky Biceps had been pulling. Their hooves landed on the silty ground of the Pie Family Rock Farm. Though Pound could’ve had his celebration in the city, the rock farm was only an hour flight away, and he liked the country. It had fresher, smog-free air and open spaces where he could fly as fast as he wanted. He might even pull off a sonic rainboom for his friends’ amusement, since it would be safe this far out in the country.
Pinkie had transformed the normally boring, monotonous fields of the rock farm from a dull grey into a colorful celebration. The field was covered in plaid picnic blankets, bouncy houses, balloons, and party games like pin the tail on the pony. Giant tables sat with pizza, punch, and ice cream. Giant kegs of draught beer and light beer, and three cartons of Morley Cigarettes sat on the table: one regular, one light, and one menthol. Pound Cake looked disapprovingly at the table. Doctor Stable shook his head.
Pinkie Pie threw her hooves in the air. “What? You’re sixteen now. It can’t all just be little kid stuff at your parties anymore!”
Pound opened his mouth to protest, but a giant white flash next to one of the bouncy houses distracted him. Pumpkin Cake, Vinyl Scratch, Nurse Redheart, Juan, Reynaldo, Professor Fossil, and Rarity appeared, teleported by an exhausted and sweaty Walkabout.
“Hell yeah! Somepony knows how to party!” Vinyl Scratch exclaimed. She floated one of the cigarettes over to her mouth, which self-ignited as she puffed on it, and floated a red cup over to the keg and filled with alcohol, taking a giant gulp. Pinkie smiled.
“You know, smoking really irritates me,” said Pound Cake.
“We’re outside,” said Pumpkin Cake flatly. “Hello, by the way.”
“I don’t mean that it irritates my lungs; though it does do that, too,” said Pound Cake, ignoring his sister’s greeting. “It irritates me that those tobacco companies exploit addiction and kill ponies to make money.”
Pumpkin raised an eyebrow. “I own some tobacco company stock, you know. From what my advisors tell me, they make great money.”
“They do? What are their EPS and P/E ratios?” asked Featherweight, smiling, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from politics. “I’ve been meaning to diversify my portfolio, and—”
Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake shot Featherweight a menacing glance, and he blushed, shirking back.
“You and all your stupid money!” Hoops exclaimed, hovering above Pumpkin Cake. “It wasn’t enough to take over Mareicopa; now you’re a greedy mining magnate, too! You use loopholes to avoid taxes while the poor starve to death!”
“I pay what the tax law says: no more, no less. This isn’t kindergarten where you can bully me into giving you my lunch money, you idiot jock,” Pumpkin scoffed, pointing at Hoops’ basketball cutie mark.
“Destitute ponies are going uninsured, without medical care, while you’re earning millions of bits from mining government land and avoiding your fair share of taxes. We could use that money to finally provide universal health care in this country. It’s a health crisis,” said Doctor Stable.
Pumpkin Cake scowled at the doctor.
“Health crisis? Pumpkin Cake helped save forty thousand lives, Doctor Stable. That’s more than you for your entire career,” said Nurse Redheart. “You’ve done nothing but add red tape to hospitals that makes it harder to heal patients.”
“Legislating proper patient malpractice protections and insurance regulations isn’t ‘red tape;’ it’s common sense harm reduction. Just like the magic laws,” said Doctor Stable.
“Oi! Those magic laws are rubbish. Laws banning magic, smoking, abortions, pornos… they’re practically turning me home country into a penal colony again!” Walkabout shouted.
“Teleporation is a dangerous spell. Crooks always use it to get away from police, or zap them up into the air. It’s no surprise that you know that spell,” said Raindrops. She pointed accusingly at Walkabout’s cutie mark: a small burst of white teleport flashes. Against his navy blue coat, the mark bore a striking resemblance to the constellation adorning the national flag of his native Oatstralia.
“Guys guys guys guys! Guys!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed as she dashed in-between Pound’s friends and Pumpkin’s friends. “This is supposed to be a party! A celebration! Ponies only become an adult once in their life! Well, unless you count the time when Spike the dragon turned into a big, adult dragon and then turned back into a kid again… but still!”
“Ah, yes. Spikey-wikey is of our best gemstone customers,” said Rarity. “Pumpkin and I have generously donated three million bits to the poor and needy all across the world, to refute Doctor Stable and Rainbow Dash’s former flight school bully.”
“But you destroy the environment to do it!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, hovering over Rarity.
“Yo rainbow mane, Magic Mares is totally eco-friendly cause it’s magic. You don’t need to tell lies to make your case. That’s like, not cool!” said Vinyl Scratch, walking over. Her security guys Juan and Reynaldo joined her, puffing out their chests. Hoops and Dumbbell rushed over to protect the EFA chairpony from possible aggression. A gap now stood between the two groups of ponies like a line of scrimmage at a hoofball game, as they were ready to get into a brawl.
But Pinkie Pie stepped in between the two groups, a kazoo hanging from her lips. She blew it with a loud whistle and yelled, “Delay of party, unsportsmare-like conduct: fifteen yard penalty!”
Her arms stretched out like a rubber band to exactly fifteen yards as she pushed Rainbow Dash and Vinyl Scratch away from each other. Everypony on both sides laughed, easing the tension.
“Aren’t y’all both fightin’ off the zebras together in Tall Tale? The EFA militia and the Mareicopa Militia? Why not talk about that? Least y’all have somethin’ in common,” said Applejack, who had just walked up.
“Applejack!” Pound Cake exclaimed. “I didn’t think you’d make it to my party!”
He flew over and gave her a big hug.
“It ain’t just your party, Pound Cake. It’s Pumpkin’s, too,” said Applejack, grinning.
Pumpkin Cake teleported over and gave Applejack a hug, as well. Applejack smiled and slipped out from between them. Soon, Pound and Pumpkin found that they were left hugging just each other, for the first time in several months.
They both didn’t let go for several minutes.
The rest of the party was less tense after the alcohol started flowing, and after Pinkie Pie enforced a strict “no talking politics” rule. Anypony who acted up was muzzled. Literally, Pinkie Pie would shove a muzzle over their mouth. That only had to happen once, to Hoops, and the rest of them got the message. So the topics for discussion were varied. It turned out that the groups actually had much in common.
Vinyl Scratch discussed music with Lyra Heartstrings and Bon Bon. Nurse Redheart and Doctor Stable both reminisced about Ponyville General Hospital. Hoops and Dumbbell swapped stories with Juan and Reynaldo about crazy ponies that they’d encountered in their bodyguard jobs. Walkabout and Raindrops, both target shooters, talked about their favorite guns. Professor Fossil and Featherweight had an interesting discussion about paleontology, which fascinated Featherweight. The sharp young stallion was one of the few ponies Fossil had met who didn’t start off such conversation by asking, “Oh, paleontology? So like Daring Do, right?”
Both groups also discussed their common fight against the Zebras on the west coast of Equestria.
“They’ve landed on the shores outside of town a few times, and captured a few small suburbs here and there, but the city itself so well guarded that it’ll never fall. Our EFA guys have helped build barricades and roadblocks, and they do flyovers and report any zebra formations,” said Pound Cake.
Pumpkin nodded. “I go into Tall Tale a lot in between shifts at Starswirl Peak. They’ve really tightened up security there. Other than a few small sabotage acts, everything is holding together.”
“The cops just really violate the Equestrian zebras’ civil rights to do that,” said Lyra Heartstrings.
Pinkie Pie’s ears perked up as she was about to go grab some more muzzles. But, surprisingly, everypony in both of the groups nodded at Rainbow Dash’s statement.
“There are good ways to police, and bad ways to police, but racially profiling an entire group of people—whether zebras or unicorns—is a bad way to police,” said Raindrops. “It turns those communities against you.”
“The key to this war, I believe, is munitions and weapons technology,” said Professor Fossil. “Throughout history, that’s been one of the decisive factors in any war. It was how the ponies won so many wars against the buffalo. Our Mareicopa fighters in the bedroom community of Bellemule learned a difficult lesson about how capable the Zebra potion chemists are. Though they’re lacking in tanks and armor, the Zebra Empire has advanced chemical weapons, an advanced navy, and advanced warplanes.”
“Thanks to Jet Set and Upper Crust,” Pound Cake scoffed. “Their treason and corruption case still hasn’t even gone to trial yet.”
“They certainly haven’t run their business in a way that I would’ve. It is better to deal with honesty and integrity, than to conduct shady deals,” said Rarity.
Pumpkin Cake said, “It’s a military-industrial racket. JSUC makes money from a war, so they do everything to make sure that the warring powers stay in power so they can keep selling them weapons. It’s at the expense of the taxpayers and dead soldiers.”
The EFA members nodded.
“Filthy Rich is the same, stealing farms to build stores,” said Dumbbell. The muzzled Hoops nodded.
“If that bugger had come ‘round me family’s ranch in Oatstralia, I’d have zapped him right into the dunny, ‘cause that’s where pieces of shit like him belong!” Walkabout exclaimed.
Everypony laughed.
Applejack drank a mug of apple cider as she listened to the discussion between Pound’s group of friends and Pumpkin’s group of friends. From watching the ponies interact with each other, she gained a valuable insight. Though they were at each other’s throats when they’d first arrived, after everypony had a few to drink, and after they’d been reminded of their common Zebra enemy, they all relaxed. They even agreed on many things.
It reminded Applejack a lot of two dogs that she had had in Appleloosa: Kerdo and Miss Peabody. Unlike Wynona, who’d been a border collie, they were both labradors. The two dogs would always fight over everything: the scraps from the table, who got to sleep at the foot of Applejack’s bed, who got the best chew toys. They’d mark their territory and growl and bark at each other for even the slightest perceived offense.
Their infighting only subsided when the fox came around the orchard to eat squirrels. Then their pack hunting instincts would kick in. The dogs would cooperate when trying to catch the fox. Miss Peabody would chase the fox up a hill, knowing that Kerdo was waiting at the top to ambush him. But the fox was too clever, and always eluded them. He would leave and come back later when the dogs were inside for the night. Soon, the dogs would return to their rowdy selves.
For now, the EFA and the Mareicopa Militia were working together to kill the ‘fox’ in Tall Tale. But what happened once the war with the zebras was over? When there was no more fox, would the dogs tear each other apart?
Applejack finished her mug of cider and poured another one. Alcohol would help her not to think about it.
Tall Tale: February 2026
General Spitfire flew high in the air above Tall Tale, accompanied by two bodyguards. From this high above, she could see the defensive barricades and trenches all around the city, to prevent forces from any of the Zebra-held suburbs infiltrating the city limits. Guards searched all civilian cars entering the city for weapons.
Six Equestrian Navy battleships had blocked off the mouth of the Tall Tale bay. The crews inspected the cargo of all civilian freighters coming into the bay, to ensure that no zebra fighters tried to sneak in as stowaways. The war had slowed down the shipping industry, but business was business, and it continued as well as it could. The Equestrian Navy did its best to ensure that life in Tall Tale and Vanhoover could go on as normal, and the inspection ponies had gotten their ship sweeps down to an exact science, shooting for a goal of a thirty minute or less wait for each ship.
The Zebra Naval fleet, which was normally just a few kilometers away out at sea, and often launched rockets at the city, was nowhere to be seen. General Soarin had reported that their last known location was out in the deep water.
That’s weird, Spitfire thought. If anything, they’d be right outside the city, as close to our ships as possible, to stir up trouble during the trial, wouldn’t they?
It was indeed odd. But, unlike early in the war when the Equestrian Navy had suffered heavy losses, it was now stronger. The Equestrian Navy had bought some of the newest carriers from the friendly nation of Trotland, whose naval capabilities were on par with the Zebra Empire. Were it not for the Uneighted Kingdom’s own colonial ambitions and sectarian religious conflicts in its own backyard, the Prime Minister would have likely declared war on the Zebra Empire to assist Equestria. But the role of Equestria’s Stirrupean allies in the war was mainly limited to intelligence services, arms supply, and other ‘moral support.’
That was less than Spitfire wanted, but were it not for the newest ships and the help from the foreign spy agencies, Tall Tale and Vanhoover might already have been lost. Even with the griffons defeated, Equestria and its allies were still evenly-matched with the emboldened Zebra Empire in Spitfire’s estimation. Equestria had new ships and armaments from Stirrup, ground troops from the Second Duchy, and volunteer battalions like the Copa Militia and Equestrians For Action. She only wished that the Diamond Dogs hadn’t withdrawn support.
Spitfire checked her hoofwatch. The court would announce the results of Zecora’s lawsuit at noon. She would be there to help coordinate the national guard response to any potential protest or rioting. If the trial results didn’t go Zecora’s way, this could incite the people of Tall Tale to riot. The chaos might provide a chance for an internal insurrection, or a potential cover for an external invasion, which some of the more extreme zebra residents of Tall Tale might greet as a ‘liberation.’ Thankfully, the national guard had been preparing for such an event for several months. The navy, army, and volunteer battalions would protect the city from external threats, while the police and national guard would protect the city from internal threats.
General Spitfire landed on the streets of Tall Tale with her bodyguards. The local weather teams had scheduled a drizzly day in the city, at Spitfire’s insistence, to lessen the number of ponies on the streets who could cause trouble. Sparse raindrops sprinkled Spitfire’s mane as the smell of rain entered her nose. It was unseasonably warm despite the rain, and a thermometer at a local bank read 50 degrees fahrenheit. Spitfire had wanted it to be colder and snowy, but the pegasi weren’t able to oblige, as they’d been short on workers. As usual. Equestria had paid a terrible price for Cloudsdale and Las Pegasus seceding, Spitfire thought.
The crowds in front of the courthouse had already swelled to several thousand. Two protest groups each held picket signs and shouted at one another, though no violence had erupted aside from a few thrown beer bottles and minor scuffles. That was a good sign. The police had cordoned off an area for protest, and the national guard vehicles stood right behind them. Snipers hid on the rooftops, as well, in case they needed to pick off any armed agitators. Police also patrolled the streets and arrested anypony on the spot who was protesting outside of a designated ‘free speech zone.’ They wanted to ensure everything was contained where they could handle it.
While thousands of ponies and zebras voiced their support or opposition for Zecora openly, others did it more subtly. Many zebra mares in Tall Tale carried black and white, zebra-stripe print purses. Many zebra stallions wore zebra striped hats or jackets. Even young students carried zebra striped backpacks to school. Not just zebras, but also many ponies wore or carried striped items to show their support for Zecora and against the internment.
Spitfire rounded the corner and noticed a street vendor selling zebra-striped merchandise out the wazoo. Zebra print notebooks, pencils, pens, binders, folders, staplers, plates, mugs, placemats, blankets, towels, thermoses, lighters, hats, shirts, jackets, scarves, and hoodies. Zebras and ponies lined up around the block to buy them. The zebra-print umbrellas were the best-sellers. Spitifire had seen thousands of at the protest. Despite the shower, thousands of ponies and zebras were determined to speak their minds.
At least thirty thousand people now stood outside of the courthouse and around the streets, The court’s announcement was now five minutes away, at noon. Spitfire and her bodyguards flew off to the local national guard command center, located at the nearby police station. She wanted to ensure that everything was ready, regardless of the decision. Were the internment ruled legal, the zebras might riot. But if it were ruled illegal, then Spitfire would have to start letting thousands of interned zebras go. While some of them were probably innocent, she knew that many of them were in fact saboteurs or terrorists who, if let go, could endanger the city of Tall Tale. Though Spitfire might be forced to set some or all of them free, she could still try to keep a close eye on them.
Zecora and her attorney Zarek stood among the crowds, in the very front, right behind a line of police ponies who were blocking the steps. Nopony but officials had been allowed in or out of the courthouse in days, and security teams had swept the building multiple times with magic detection spells and bomb-sniffing dogs. The Tall Tale Superior Court justices were about to give their ruling to a court spokesmare. The spokesmare would then address the crowd with the ruling.
“No internment! No internment!”
“Lock them up! Lock them up!”
A line of police separated the two sides, preventing scuffles, but not the verbal battle, as both sides competed for volume.
“This is our day,” said Zarek, turning to Zecora. “We can always appeal if they win, and they can always appeal if we win, but the Supreme Court of Equestria isn’t likely to reverse the Superior Court’s decision.”
Zecora nodded. She was well aware of the importance of the ruling here. And she knew how important stopping the Zebra Empire from capturing Tall Tale and Vanhoover was. The internment, however, was not the answer. In her opinion, too many zebra civilians were being locked up without trials for the mere crime of having stripes, and for happening to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It had happened to Zecora herself, just before she went out on her mission to assassinate Zaporizhia. If it could happen to her, as pro-Equestria and anti-Zaporizhia as she was, then it could happen to anypony.
A reporter from the Tall Tale Times, Yell O. Journalism, who had initially written a hit piece on Zecora, walked through the crowd to her.
“Zecora! Care to make a comment?”
“Go away. To you and your paper, I have nothing to say,” muttered Zecora.
“How does it feel that you may be single-hoofedly removing Tall Tale’s best protection against the Zebra onslaught?”
“She said GO AWAY!” Zarek shouted, a vein popping out of his forehead. “You and your paper have set back zebra-pony race relations in Equestria by fifty years!”
Mr. Journalism, after several more incendiary questions which elicited nothing but silence from Zecora and anger from Zarek, scurried off to the Times office. Probably to write another hit piece, Zecora figured.
The wooden double-doors to the courthouse swung open, and the official court spokesmare walked up to a podium at the height of the steps. The crowds slowly quieted down as she cleared her throat into the microphone.
“Thank you, everypony,” she said. “Today, the results of the case Zecora v. Equestria will be announced. The court deliberated for many weeks on this, and months have passed since the trial, to give the National Guard enough time to prepare for any possible outcome. Now, in coming to this decision, the justices debated extensively, and weighed all of the evidence that both sides presented. The primary question in this case was whether or not the indefinite internment of certain individuals suspected of anti-Equestrian activity could be lawfully justified, in keeping with wartime provisions for civil liberties.
“In answering this question, the court considered three key tests which the government must apply. Test one: ‘is there an existential threat to Equestria’s territorial integrity?’ Test two: ‘is an internment necessary to prevent or significantly lessen the threat?’ Test three: ‘is the internment carried out in the least-restrictive manner possible, that infringes the least on citizens’ civil rights?’ The answer to all three must be ‘yes’ for the interment to be lawful.
“The first test, was whether or not an existential threat to Equestria’s territorial integrity exists. Given the stated intentions of the Zebra Emperor to capture the ‘zebra cities’ of Tall Tale and Vanhoover, and given that Zebra forces have already occupied some suburbs and swathes of countryside, the answer is clearly ‘yes.’
“The second test is whether or not an internment is necessary to prevent or significantly lessening the existential threat. The court found that, while the internment might have been overreaching in some respects, the internment was necessary in other respects. Namely, there are thousands of suspected zebra saboteurs and terrorists in Tall Tale. Most of them do not speak Equish, nor do they have proper documentation of their citizenship status.
“On the battlefield, this would put them squarely in the category of enemy combatant, to which normal legal protections don’t apply. Instead, the international treaties regarding humane treatment of POW’s apply. In an urban, non-battlefield setting, however, the lines are more blurred. Giving trials to all suspected saboteurs and terrorists would be impractical, particularly if they lack Equestrian documentation and don’t speak Equish. Thus, the court found that yes, the internment is necessary on these grounds.
“The final test is whether or not the internment is carried out in the least restrictive manner possible. Now, this was an area that the court scrutinized very closely, especially given the flatly wrong decision to detain Zecora, a true Equestrian loyalist. However, the military has since taken concrete steps to ensure that similar situations will not repeat. All detained zebras are now given the chance to speak to counsel, and are given the chance to prove their citizenship. If their citizenship is proven, they may request a trial. Hundreds of zebras have already requested trials. A few of them have been exonerated, and a few have been proven guilty of terrorist acts, while most are still awaiting trial.
“What is more telling than that, though, is that thousands of zebras in the internment camps have not proven or attempted to prove their citizenship. Though this doesn’t necessarily prove anything nefarious, it does provide a good indication of the sorts of zebras who are being interned. Now, obviously, not every single non-citizen or undocumented zebra is an enemy combatant. Normally, undocumented zebras would simply be deported to the Zebra Empire after processing, but given that Equestria is at war with the Empire, that is impossible. Given the complex situation involved, and given the military’s positive response to civil liberty concerns, the court can affirm that, as of this date, the internment is being carried out in the least restrictive manner possible, that respects Equestrian citizens’ civil liberties as much as possible.
“In light of all three tests being passed, the court has ruled in favor of Equestria in the case of Zecora v. Equestria.”
A mix of cheers and jeers rose from the ponies and zebras in the crowd. Zecora’s heart sank. Her case had failed, and the internment would continue. She thought of all of the zebra immigrants who Chilly Waters and other ‘sea turtles’ like him had ferried over. They, like Zecora herself, had escaped from the vicious religious tyranny to find a better life in Equestria. But suspicion had fallen on them. Perhaps they’d been unable to secure citizenship. Maybe the line was too long, or they didn’t qualify for some reason. Equestria should grant them asylum as refugees, not locked them up in internment camps with actual traitors and terrorists just because they couldn’t speak Equish and weren’t citizens.
The crowds booed and jeered at one another.
“Zeebs in jail! Zeebs in jail!” the pro-internment crowd cheered, throwing their hats in the air in victory. The police pushed back at them as some of them tried to assault zebras, who threw zebra-print items across the police line.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. It wasn’t from the crowds or the police. There was another. Zecora turned towards the courthouse, and so did the crowds. The spokesmare lie on the ground dead behind the podium, blood splattering everywhere. The two guards by the door lay dead, blood pooling and dripping down the steps. Six zebras ran out of the courthouse, carrying assault rifles.
The nine black-robed justices of the Tall Tale Superior Court walked out, sheer terror on their faces. Behind them, nine more zebras carried assault rifles, pointed straight at the back of the judges’ heads. The hostage-takers stood under the marble arch that covered the outside of the courthouse door, to ensure pegasus snipers couldn’t take headshots at them from above.
Zecora had expected to see these zebras wearing uniforms or something. But they weren’t. They wore no clothes and no uniforms, and no identifying marks other than their regular zebra stripes. Even their guns were odd. At first, Zecora thought that they didn’t have guns at all. But then she realized that yes, they all did have assault rifles, but they were painted with black and white zebra stripes. This way, when the zebra wasn’t holding the gun his hooves, and slung it over his back, it blended in with his coat.
One zebra walked up to the podium and spoke. He, too, was wearing no clothes, but Zecora soon recognized his voice. He was the hateful preacher who had helped instigate the riots months earlier.
“Zebras of Tall Tale!” he shouted into the microphone. “You have just heard blasphemous lies spoken by the evil pony representative against the chosen people of god! They wish to lock you all in cages, to deport you, to kill you! They fear you, for in their wicked ways they do not wish to live amongst those who walk the path of righteousness. But the day of reckoning has come. The evil, bloodthirsty griffons have been annihilated. Now, the ones who set the plague of the beasts upon zebrakind: the ponies, shall face their divine justice!
“The ponies have sought to keep our people from working the fields and the stockyards. Look at the abuse against Zebra Empire citizens. They’ve committed no crime but having stripes and refusing to become ‘citizens,’ thereby receiving the stamp of the great aggressor. Equestria has sought to keep our people from positions of power; look at the Tall Tale police force, which is not even 10% zebra even though a third of the city’s residents are. They have sought to keep our people from wealth. The average zebra family earns ten thousand Equestrian bits less per year than the average pony family. The internment is merely the final step in the ponies’ ultimate goal: to cleanse their land of god’s chosen people!”
The crowd went wild. there were boos, jeers, cheering, and all sorts of chants. The police still stood by, not trying to free the justices, lest they end up accidentally firing on civilians.
The priest concluded, “But we have fought back. This is the final, prophetic war of the zebra race. In this war, your uniform is your stripes. Your enemies are those without them who seek to persecute you. Tall Tale and Vanhoover are now the newest cities in the Zebra Empire, ruled by the savior of the zebra people, Emperor Zaporizhia! And these so-called justices—who make a mockery of justice—shall face the only true law and judgement in the universe: the law of God. May he cast them into everlasting fire!”
Nine bullets fired from the rifles all at once, and the justices fell to the floor. The police drew their own guns and fired back at the podium with the preacher and the zebra executors. But most of them only had rubber bullets for crowd control, and only a few had real firearms. The zebras quickly outgunned the police, as dozens more armed zebras swarmed out of the courthouse.
Dozens of ponies standing in the pro-internment crowd fell to the floor wounded and dead as the zebra executors fired into the crowds to disperse them. The rest of them fled down the streets to escape the hail of bullets. The thousands of zebras and ponies in the protest group, emboldened by this, and with no more police line to stop them, marched towards the police station.
General Spitfire’s head spun as police and military officials frantically poured into the police station, giving her updates on the situation in the city of Tall Tale.
“...then they executed the judges, seized the courthouse and city hall, and raised the flag of the Zebra Empire,” said a local police lieutenant, himself a mustachioed, overweight zebra named Zealous. As the preacher had pointed out, Tall Tale had few zebra police, but Zealous was one. He attempted to preserve peace and bring reconciliation as the official liaison between the zebra community and the Tall Tale Police Department.
“But the good news is that more of my guys arrived, and they have the courthouse surrounded.”
Spitfire narrowed her eyebrows. “You said they came out of the courthouse? How’d they get past security with their guns? We’ve swept the courthouse hundreds of times. Even if they’d been invisible, our dogs would’ve sniffed them out. There were absolutely no unauthorized persons in that courthouse when the spokesmare first came out of the building to give the ruling.”
Zealous shrugged. “I don’t know. They couldn’t have teleported, either, since the entire building was sealed. But either way, we have a bigger problem right now. A large crowd of rioters is headed this way. You should see for yourself.”
Spitfire put on her bulletproof vest and flew out the door with her bodyguards. They ascended high into the air, looking down at the crowd of rioters.
Thousands of zebras and hundreds of ponies poured into the street from houses, apartments, and shops along the way. This was a heavily-zebra area of town, and was where many recent immigrants settled. Some ran and screamed in protest, and some rioted, looted, and broke windows. They held black and white umbrellas and picket signs. From up high, it looked like the streets themselves had stripes. Sounds of breaking glass and screaming arose from the city as smoke poured from various buildings. But unlike the riot months ago, this time, there was gunfire erupting all around, too. It resembled a battle more than a mere street riot.
Three blocks from the police station, the national guard had set up further barricades, on Spitfire’s order. Unlike the riot police, they had real weapons. The rioters wouldn’t get very far.
Spitfire returned to Zealous.
“We plan on kettling them,” said Zealous. “We’ll wait until the rioters reach your national guard roadblock. Then, my police guys will close off the street behind them. Then they’ll be trapped. We can search the crowd for weapons and arrest any violent offenders. The rest, we’ll let go from the kettle, but only in groups of a dozen or so at a time, so it’ll break up the protest. Hopefully the riot will let off steam.”
Local winemaker Berry Punch and her zebra migrant workers ran through the streets, in both panic and rage. The execution at the courthouse had scared off some of the workers. Others, it had emboldened. When the shooting started, Berry Punch saw only three ways to go: one, with the pro-internment bigots who’d gone to do some anti-zebra thing that she didn’t know. That was out, obviously. Two, she could go by herself down a side street, which might be dangerous. Or three, she could follow her vineyard workers as they raced towards the police station.
So she decided to go for safety in numbers and follow her workers. Her workers had yet to break the law in this protest. Well, other than immigration and tax law, that was. Hopefully they wouldn’t be targets. But in Tall Tale, especially now, it seemed like everypony or zebra was a target. Ponies targeted zebras. Zebras targeted ponies. Religious zebras targeted zebras who weren’t faithful enough. Bigoted ponies targeted ponies who were tolerant of zebras.
A zebra-stripe baseball cap sat atop Berry Punch’s head, as she held a zebra-stripe umbrella in her mouth. The wind and the speed of her running soon blew it away, but at this point, getting wet with rain was the least of her concerns. The crowd ran towards a barricade of three national guard armored personnel carriers, their hoofbeats clopping loudly on the concrete. Dozens of guardsponies sat atop the APCs, their guns trained on the crowd. Berry Punch was worried that they’d shoot.
The protesters came to a stop three meters away from the vehicles. A national guardspony warned on the megaphone not to come any closer or they would open fire. Berry Punch turned to walk back, but a line of police officers made their way across the street behind the protesters, setting up an orange net from one street sign to the other. The protesters were trapped on this block, Berry Punch realized. About ten meters away, Berry Punch noticed out of a corner of her eye that a manhole cover in the street opened up, and about a dozen zebras climbed out one at a time, dispersing throughout the crowd. She didn’t think much of it. Perhaps they were sewer workers, she figured.
“You are unlawfully assembled,” a police officer called through a megaphone. “You will be subject to search, and arrested if contraband items such as firearms are found.”
That was the wrong thing to say. The zebras in the crowd started booing. Suddenly, there was a muffled gunshot. One of the police officers fell to the floor dead, shot through the heart. Another fell to the ground wounded with a gunshot in his knee. Three zebra stallions ran over and whacked his body with the metal shafts of their umbrellas, kicking him in the stomach.
Some of the kettled zebras and ponies cheered. Others screamed.
Another officer fell. Then another. Berry Punch took cover behind a bench, waiting for them to return fire. A single tear gas cannister flew into the crowd, but just added to the confusion. The police fired rubber bullets, and were fired back at with real bullets. Soon, the national guard soldiers began falling to gunfire, as well.
Finally, out of the corner of her eye, Berry Punch saw one of the shooters, standing among the protesters. Despite holding a military rifle, he wore no uniform, nothing but his stripes. His gun was easy to miss, as it was also painted with stripes. Between all of the striped umbrellas, clothes, and zebras, it didn’t stand out like a gun normally would. Since it was silenced, it didn’t make much noise. But it was unmistakable, as was the implication as she spotted even more camouflaged shooters: the Zebra Empire forces were inside of Tall Tale.
Inside of the police station, Spitfire ducked behind a desk as the windows shattered with a loud crash, and gunfire popped off outside. The police kettle had failed miserably, along with the national guard lines. The crowd of enraged zebras were now just outside the police station, and some within the crowd were firing at it. Spitfire gazed out in between volleys of shooting and was puzzled to see no guns, even with her sharp eye. But after a bullet grazed her mane, she saw its source: a zebra-striped, camouflaged gun. Just as soon as she noticed it, she lost track of it again in the sea of black and white.
This was no longer a protest or even a riot, Spitfire realized. It was a military action. Zebra Empire soldiers, wearing no uniforms, were using the civilian protesters as living shields. It went against all of the international laws of war, not that Zaporizhia had ever paid those any heed. In his mind, all zebras were combatants against the griffons and their pony ‘masters,’ and their black-and-white stripes were their uniforms, and they only obeyed the laws of their god, who proclaimed the zebras his chosen people. To Spitfire, it sounded just like the unicorn master race speeches that Blueblood used to give.
Zealous slinked under windows and desks as he rushed over to Spitfire.
“We can’t hold any of the lines out there!” he exclaimed. “There’s armed terrorists in the crowd! Our snipers have taken a few out, but they just keep coming. Our officers can only fire rubber bullets and tear gas at the crowd, because we can barely see who’s a terrorist and who’s just a peaceful protester!”
“Dammit!” Spitfire shouted.
Zealous shook his head. “There’s even worse news. The crowds have taken the train station and the power plant, and raised the Zebra Empire flag. But we know how the terrorists are getting in now. One of my contacts at the power plant saw a group of fifty armed zebras break in through the basement. Apparently, they snuck in through a secret underground tunnel.”
Spitfire narrowed her eyebrows. “Alright. Get every last officer out there with rubber bullets. Fire teargas cannisters until even their grandchildren have spicy tears. Bring out the unicorns with the screech projection spells and make the mobs go deaf if you have to. Get the SK mages with shape-changing spells and start turning the rioters into frogs and mice. These terrorists might have made it so we can’t fight back with deadly force without harming civilians... but we can use every single non-lethal weapon we have, dammit!”
Zealous nodded and ran back towards his command post.
Twilight Sparkle gulped coffee as she listened to the radio reports from the city of Tall Tale and Vanhoover in disbelief. Both cities were under siege from groups of protesters, rioters, and Zebra Empire military, but it was so unclear who was who, that the news reporters were confused.
“This is Golden Voice with local station WVHN reporting live from Vanhoover, where the protests over the legal decision in nearby Tall Tale have spread to this northwestern island city with a significant zebra minority as well. On the main street of town there are confrontations. Buildings have been burned. Right now there’s a group of… well, I don’t know if they’re rioters or military but they have stripes, and many are holding striped objects that I can’t quite make out from here. Is that a weapon? No, that’s just an umbrella, I think. No wait, there’s a weapon! There’s a weapon! And now gunfire! It’s a street battle here in Vanhoover…”
Twilight Sparkle shook her head. How on earth did these Zebra Empire forces infiltrate the two largest cities on Equestria’s northwest coast? The internment was a difficult enough decision to make, but at least when Twilight Sparkle agreed to allow it, she thought that it would make a difference in Tall Tale and Vanhoover. After all, they’d rounded up thousands of alleged terrorists and saboteurs. The internment was supposed to keep the cities safe. But even still the cities were under attack from within? Enraged, normal civilian protesters and even rioters were to be expected, but this was a large-scale military assault. It didn’t make any sense to Twilight.
At least, not until she got an unexpected visitor.
“Princess Twilight, the Alpha of the Diamond Dogs is here,” said her secretary.
Twilight sighed. “Send him in, I guess.” She was unsure of what Rover wanted at a time like this. Perhaps he had seen the chaos erupt in Tall Tale and was going to try to get a better deal on Starswirl Mountain. Depending on how bad it got, Twilight Sparkle might have to concede and give him unconditional, environmental-law-free mining rights to whatever Pumpkin Cake and Rarity hadn’t gotten yet. The moles be damned; her people were in danger.
Rover walked through the door, smiling.
“Make it quick, Rover. As you’ve probably heard, I have quite the situation on my hooves. So unless you’re here to offer me your support—”
“Me already try offer support. But you break treaty and replace Diamond Dogs with stupid unicorns with stupid magic ‘cause stupid moles can’t stand stupid strip mine!” Rover shouted.
“The treaty was very clear, Rover. It said the moles couldn’t be harmed. Fluttershy and I followed the treaty when we wanted to make you conduct reclamation. It’s not my fault that it would’ve been too costly. Now depending on how the situation evolves in Tall Tale, we might be willing to make another conces—”
“Here what Diamond Dogs think of moles and your broken treaty!” Rover shouted.
He reached into his red vest pocket, pulled out a small, furry thing, and tossed it onto Twilight Sparkle’s desk, where it landed with a squeak like a chew toy. It was tan and had brown spots all over it. Its spotted fur was rended and stained by blood from canine teeth marks. Twilight’s jaw dropped. She recalled Applejack saying how Wynona used to bring dead rodents onto her doorstep as presents. Dogs liked to do that, though this dead spotted mole was hardly a ‘present’ from Rover.
“Funny thing, moles,” said Rover with a sneer. “Moles dig; Diamond Dogs dig. Moles undermine treaty; Diamond Dogs undermine Tall Tale and Vanhoovsies!”
Twilight’s heart skipped a beat. Rover smiled.
“We dig tunnels for zeebies to sneak in. We dig for months, wait for Zecorie’s verdict! But not just Tall Tale and Vanhoovsies, either…”
The telephone on Twilight Sparkle’s desk rang. She reached for it with her hoof, but glanced up at Rover.
“Answer phone, Twilight,” said Rover. “It rude to keep Emperor Zappy waiting.”
She picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“This is Emperor Zaporizhia of the Zebra Empire, the exalted savior of the chosen people of god. And I presume that this is Twilight Sparkle, the devilish alicorn ruler of the most wretched nation on the planet?”
“Your words, not mine,” said Twilight.
“Excellent. I trust that you’re aware that the cities of Tall Tale and Vanhoover will become the newest additions to the Zebra Empire?”
Twilight chuckled. “I’m not giving up those cities so easily, Zaporizhia. You might have committed dozens of war crimes in trying to seize them, but our riot police will hold out against your troops.”
Zaporizhia replied, “At the end of the day, though, they are merely riot police with tear gas canisters and rubber bullets, all wearing uniforms that make them easy targets. Whereas my soldiers are trained in combat and armed with grenades and real bullets, wearing the natural camouflage of the zebra race. Your cities are doomed to fall.”
Twilight groaned. “Did you just call to gloat, or did you have something to tell me?”
“I’m calling to offer you a peace treaty. You will surrender Tall Tale and Vanhoover to the Zebra Empire, and Starswirl Mountain to the Diamond Dogs, in exchange for getting to keep the rest of Equestria. Your pony citizens who remain in the Zebra cities will be treated fairly, far fairer than you’ve treated the zebras, in fact. Though they will be required to pay a tax for being non-zebras living in Zebra lands.”
Twilight started, “Ponies are a majority in those cities. They aren’t ‘zebra cities.’ There’s only 30% zebras even in Tall Tale, and even half of them hate you and your relig—”
“I’m not finished. If you refuse this treaty, chemical weapons will be detonated in Manehattan. The casualties will be in the tens of thousands.”
Twilight Sparkle stuttered, “Ou-our pegasi will destroy your bombers in a dogfight before they can drop their payloads. You might, I mean, you might have a superior navy, but even with your newer planes, our pegasi are second to none.”
Zaporizhia said, “My plan doesn’t hinge on whether or not my bombers can make it past your pegasi. Our new Diamond Dog allies have planted the bombs underground. Recall that Manehattan has a subway system. One word from me and the Diamond Dogs will tunnel into the metro and detonate the bombs, killing every single passenger. Machine-gun wielding dogs wearing gas masks will be posted at every exit to ensure no escaping and maximum casualties. If there is any attempt to make a public warning, shut down the metro, or reduce its ridership, the bombs will be detonated immediately.”
“I will never give in to terrorism! NEVER! DO YOU HEAR ME!? YOU FALSE IDOL!” Twilight Sparkle practically screamed at the top of her lungs until her throat was dry.
Zaporizhia chuckled. “Yes, I understand that after what happened with Cloudsdale, you are hesitant to give in to terrorism… publicly. Privately, however, nopony needs to know about my threat today except for you, Rover, and God himself. Not even Luna has to know. I’ve been so kind as to offer you an out to save face with your population. The publicly-stated reason for your surrender can simply be because of how brilliantly I captured the cities of Tall Tale and Vanhoover, and because you don’t think there’s a chance of ever recapturing them back without massive civilian casualties. Which, honestly, wouldn’t exactly be a lie, now, would it?”
“You’re wrong,” said Twilight Sparkle, taking a sip of her coffee. “Vanhoover and Tall Tale will hold, and we’ll defuse those bombs in Manehattan. Our unicorns have all sorts of magic spells. Force fields, teleportation, even intangibility. We can get the metro riders out in time.”
Though she tried to convey confidence through her voice, Alpha Rover was right there, sensing her emotions with his eyes and his nose. As a dog, he could smell her fear, and he smiled.
As if somehow keying off of Rover through the phone, Zaporizhia chuckled. “Very well. You have the rest of today and tonight to make your decision. If not, the bombs will go off in Manehattan tomorrow morning during rush hour. They are hidden so well, that I doubt your bomb squads could find them. Oh, and don’t try to torture any information from Alpha Rover, either. If you lay a hoof on him, we will detonate the bombs. When you’ve decided on the treaty, you know how to reach me.”
Twilight Sparkle hung up the phone and glanced over at Alpha Rover. She wanted to telekinetically strangle him. She wanted to cast a dark magic spell to torture him. But she couldn’t, or Zaporizhia would detonate the bombs.
Instead, she yelled at him, “Get out!” and pointed towards the door.
Alpha Rover scurried away, leaving Twilight by herself. Her thoughts raced as she weighed her options. She could attempt to hold Tall Tale and Vanhoover, and deal with whatever ramifications the bombs brought. Perhaps there was no bomb, and Zaporizhia was bluffing. But if there was, the consequences could be disastrous. Thousands of ponies rode the subway every day. Depending on the extent of the bombs and the time of day that they went off, the casualties could be in the tens of thousands. It had the potential to be even deadlier than Chupacabra Stadium. But it was manageable, and Twilight thought it was better than giving up yet two more of Equestria’s largest cities.
For that plan to work, though, there had to be some chance of holding Tall Tale and Vanhoover. And the news reports only gave a partial picture. Her scouts and government sources had yet to report to her, and might not for at least an hour.
She clearly needed more information. So she would visit Tall Tale herself.
General Spitfire and her two bodyguards were holed up in the top floor of the police station in Tall Tale, as gunfire rang out in the streets. They had barred the windows, blocked the doors to the stairway, and were waiting for some sort of signal. They got it a few minutes ago, when a dozen zebra soldiers had stormed the police station, having drank a speed potion that made them almost impossible to hit. But on her wings, Spitfire was still faster, and had flown up the stairs to the top floor.
A loud boom sounded in the stairway below them, as the door cracked on its hinges.
“Grenade!” Spitfire’s bodyguard shouted. He threw himself in front of her, as another explosion burst and the door flew off. Shrapnel and debris scattered, and he grunted as blood trickled out from a wound in his side.
That could’ve been me, Spitfire thought. Her ears rang from the explosion, and she got to her hooves and rushed with her second bodyguard up the stairs to the roof. The pounding of zebra hooves filled the hallway behind them. Spitfire flew out onto the rooftop as rain pelted her mane, and her remaining bodyguard followed behind, pointing his gun and firing off several shots. He ducked behind a boxy radiator as machine gun fire sprayed the metal sides. Spitfire zipped after him, just as three Zebra soldiers emerged from the stairwell.
General Spitfire weighed her options. She could either stay and fight them off herself, or she could try to fly away from the city. But that presented challenges, as flying could subject herself to gunfire from enemy snipers. She was far too valuable of an asset to lose, and she cursed herself for not evacuating the police station as soon as the ‘protesters’ got too close.
Her bodyguard returned fire from his own assault rifle, hitting one of the zebras. The other two took cover behind the door. Spitfire, who only had a hoofgun sidearm, reached for it, but the bodyguard shook his head.
“Stay behind this radiator. Don’t risk your life,” he urged.
One of the two remaining zebra fighters reached into his zebra-striped saddlebag and removed a striped grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it right towards them. It landed directly behind the radiator box, merely three meters away: too far to reach and throw back at the enemy in time before it exploded, but too close to survive an explosion from. Spitfire winced, ready for the end.
Instead, the grenade flew up into the air, along with both of the soldiers. Spitfire, too, felt a strange force lifting her up, but flapped her wings against it. She glanced over at the zebras. They were in free-fall, except falling up into the sky, almost as if…
“Gravity spells. They always come in handy.”
“Twilight Sparkle!?” General Spitfire called out. The princess was hovering right beside Spitfire, a purple bubble surrounding her. “I thought you said that you don’t do combat!”
Twilight flew over to Spitfire, and extended the force-field around the general and her bodyguard. “I don’t, normally. Even with all my magic, it’s too risky. But I do scout sometimes, just to get a good glimpse of things with my own eyes. Even with telepathy, my scouts can’t tell me everything I need to know. I was out here flying over the city, and I saw you up on the rooftop. I’d recognize that bright yellow coat and fiery mane anywhere. So I sprung into action. I had to save my main mare!”
Spitfire smiled. “Thanks. I wouldn’t have been in combat either, but they stormed the police station quicker than I could get out. How does the rest of the city look? I’ve been in the dark myself.”
Twilight Sparkle shook her head. “Not good. Come see.”
Spitfire nodded and they both flew off over the downtown district. A few bullets ricocheted off of the force field, which Twilight assured was bulletproof. With a pair of binoculars, Spitfire observed the situation.
Off in the distance, the Equestrian navy fired on an approaching Zebra Empire battle carrier group. Pegasi and zebra jet fighters soared in the sky, engaged in aerial battle. In the city itself, dead bodies of both zebras and ponies littered the streets in about a 50/50 mix, as the rain mixed with blood. Zebra Empire troops ran through the streets in the thousands, mingling with regular zebra civilians. The tall skyscrapers had giant, striped banners hung from the sides. City hall had a Zebra Empire flag fluttering from it. There was a crowd of tens of thousands of zebras standing, waving flags and cheering.
“The zebras are as one people! The zebras are as one people!” they chanted.
Spitfire and Twilight Sparkle flew east towards the mountains, and landed near the foot of Starswirl Peak. As they rested under a tree, Twilight spoke.
“General Spitfire, what would it take to stop this?” she asked.
Spitfire shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess the best option is to occupy our own city with the military, declare martial law, and impose a curfew. That’s still a bad option, though. These ZE soldiers would just hole up in buildings, sniping away at our guys. Even if we kill them all, more could just come through the tunnels. Tall Tale would become a death trap, and thousands of civilians could die. There’s that option, or I guess surrender, but why would we ever sur—”
Twilight Sparkle cut Spitfire off. “It’s an untenable situation. These rioters have seized buildings all over town and it would be impossible to dislodge them without unacceptable civilian casualties. They’ve broken every rule in the book and have shown that they have no principles. We have principles, but we’d have to abandon or compromise them to win. So we have to surrender our towns instead of our principles. Zaporizhia only wants Tall Tale and Vanhoover. No other Equestrian cities have more than a 5% zebra population. He couldn’t pull this off again in, say, Fillydelphia or Manehattan.”
Spitfire’s jaw dropped. “Tall Tale is the third-largest city in Equestria! Vanhoover is… well, not as big, but still huge! Other than Applewood, they’re our biggest west coast cities. They’re our biggest ports. Surrendering them would be like if you cut off one of your wings.”
“It will be painful, yes. But sometimes, an amputation of a limb is needed to save the patient’s life.”
Spitfire chuckled. “Yeah, but what would Luna say?”
“She’s asleep, and it’s still afternoon. I plan to sign the treaty before she can object.”
“What would Equestria say?”
“They’ll be upset that we’re losing two cities, but relieved that the war is finally over, relieved that Tall Tale and Vanhoover won’t be under deadly siege, and relieved their family members can finally come home from the battlefield. I expect many protests, a few riots, but even more celebrations and parades.”
Spitfire shook her head. “You’re the princess here, not me. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I think it’ll backfire somehow. Equestria has had enough salami slicing. First Canterlot, then Cloudsdale, then Copa might as well be. Now Tall Tale and Vanhoover? Pretty soon, there won’t be any of Equestria left! What’s next, the Donkey Republic? The Cattle Kingdom? I wonder when the earth ponies will take Dodge Junction and Horseshoe Bay and declare an ‘Earth.’”
Twilight Sparkle laughed. “Thanks, Spitfire. I needed a good chuckle today.”
Spitfire grinned. “Well, it was mostly a joke, but there is some truth to it, don’t you admit?”
“I do admit. But you know what? I still believe that Equestria, a nation founded on friendship, is a fundamentally good idea. All three races of ponies living in harmony, plus the crystal ponies, along with zebras, cattle, mules, donkeys, griffons… hey, someday, maybe even the changelings and dragons might decide to join us. The friendship between all sentient races of beings on the planet is something that Equestria should always promote until its final days.
“But one thing that I learned about friendship from Princess Celestia is that you can’t force people be your friends. You can try, but you just end up pushing them further away. A long, deadly military campaign to remove the terrorists from Tall Tale and Vanhoover would forever alienate the zebra civilians. Honestly, even the limited internment that we did was excessive, and I now regret doing it, but hindsight is 20/20.
“But right now, most of the zebras aren’t totally alienated. The zebra immigrants in Tall Tale and Vanhoover all came to Equestria for a reason, and it certainly wasn’t because they hated us. They came for freedom and opportunity, both religious and economic. Tall Tale and Vanhoover have religious freedom and economic opportunity right now. Come tomorrow, they won’t anymore. Zaporizhia will bring in his religious police, and he’ll impose strict taxes and regulations. He’ll start stoning homosexuals. He’ll ban cigarettes and alcohol. He’ll separate zebras and ponies, because marriage between them is forbidden, and many thousands of zebra and pony intermarriages will be broken. Mixed race children could be killed.”
Spitfire scowled. “And that’s terrible! That’s why we have to fight to our final breath to keep Tall—”
“We can’t. I wanted to, but I’m now convinced we can’t win this battle with force. Even killing Zaporizhia himself might make things worse, since he could be seen as a martyr. So instead, we’ll defeat the ZE, Zebrism, and Zaporizhia on the ideological battlefield. It isn’t so easy to take freedoms away from people who already have them—Mareicopa proves it. In the Northwest, only a small, loud minority of zebras even want to be ruled by Zaporizhia. Others simply see him as better than the internment, but not the best option. Most of the Equestrian zebras dislike Zaporizhia, because they or their parents fled to Equestria to escape him!
“So what happens when Tall Tale is part of the Zebra Empire? Well, those zebras can go to visit their families who stayed back on the Zebrican continent, since they’ll be Zebra citizens again. Zebricans can come to Tall Tale on vacation. And you know what all of them will do?”
“Uh… suffer?” Spitfire guessed.
“They’ll talk. They’ll tell stories of what it was like to live free in Equestria, to adhere to whatever religion that they saw fit, to speak out against their elected leaders and hold protests against the government. The zebra mares will tell stories of how, in Equestria, they were considered equals to stallions and allowed to vote and receive an education. Do you know how the city of Tall Tale got its name, General Spitfire?”
She shook her head.
Twilight explained, “Hundreds of years ago, settler ponies from the east were drawn to it because of ‘tall tales.’ Ponies spoke of pink diamonds buried in the mountainside, beautiful forests, lakes of champagne, friendly hairless apes who’d brush ponies’ manes and feed them carrots. Some of those tales were true; some were lies. But the name stuck. And now, once Tall Tale is a ‘zebra city,’ it’ll live up to its name again, as zebras from Tall Tale will tell of how great it used to be as a free, Equestrian city. This will inspire other zebras to seek such freedoms for themselves.
‘They’ll start to question why all of these religious laws are in place, whether God would really want them to live as unhappy puritans, or if He would want them to enjoy all of His creation to the fullest. Then they’ll question Zaporizhia and his lies, and many will determine that he’s a false prophet. He’ll lose the faith of his people and, ultimately, his power itself. Zaporizhia doesn’t know it yet, but by taking Tall Tale and Vanhoover, he’s taking a poison pill that will end him.”
General Spitfire nodded. It seemed to be a good argument to her. She did think that Twilight Sparkle might be downplaying the effect of religious ideology. Some zebras might be so brainwashed, that nothing could undo it. And the moderate and atheist zebras and ponies who could make a difference if they stayed would be liable to flee the city anyway. But, as demonstrated right before her very eyes in Tall Tale, it only took a small minority to cause a great deal of trouble. If even 10% of Zebra Empire citizens could be swayed by the Equestrian ideals, that could present a major problem to Zaporizhia. From talking to loyal zebra Equestrian citizens like Zealous, Spitfire knew that the number was way higher than that. They, plus however many unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies decided to remain inside of the newest Zebra Empire-controlled cities, would almost guarantee an uprising.
She just hoped that when the revolution against Zaporizhia came, there would be minimal loss of life, and that it would happen as quickly as possible to prevent a genocide.
“...but Tall Tale and Vanhoover are free cities and will always remain that at heart. Zaporizhia can never take that away. As for our national park at Starswirl Mountain, it will be missed, but we still have over fifty more parks in the rest of Equestria.
“To the zebra citizens in Tall Tale and Vanhoover who wish to leave the northwest, the Second Duchy has pledged to take in refugees and resettle them in a part of the Flatlands, where they will be given plots of land to farm. Zebras are respected in the Second Duchy for their potion-making magic, but be advised that the capital city of Canterlot will remain restricted to unicorns only. All unicorn refugees are free to resettle in Canterlot, as well.
“To the pony citizens who wish to leave the northwest, the cities of Mareicopa, Applewood, and Dodge Junction have offered their support. Thanks to the friendly offers of these three Equestrian cities and the Second Duchy, we will resettle all ponies and zebras who wish to leave Tall Tale and Vanhoover. By surrendering to the Zebra Empire, we will ensure peace in Equestria. I understand that this is a difficult transition, but we’ve survived cities separating from Equestria in the past, and we will survive it again. Maybe someday, like Mareicopa did, they might find their way back into our nation once more. Thank you, good night, and god bless.”
Applejack sat in her office in the orchard at Horseshoe Bay, shaking her head as Twilight Sparkle’s peace announcement played over the radio. She never thought she’d see Equestria surrender a war in her life, but it had happened. The fox was too crafty, too sneaky, and had won.
The City of Tall Grass: April 2028 Two years into Zebra Empire rule
Berry Punch walked down the sidewalk, her mane occasionally sprinkled with raindrops. Without pegasi management, the weather had reverted to natural: a near-constant, slight drizzle. Both downpours and sunny days were rare. When the sun came out, though, it was glorious. At least all the rain was good for Berry Punch’s vineyards.
Gotta focus on the good sometimes, she thought.
On a corner sat a shop with a cracked and faded brick front. At the top, a white wooden sign with faded red letters said “DISCOUNT LIQUIDS.” The ‘-IDS’ at the end of Liquids stuck out as brighter red, having clearly been painted more recently than the other letters.
The bell dinged as Berry Punch entered. She was the only customer… or so she thought. The shopkeeper, a pegasus, smiled and waved at her. At the end of his wave, his hoof stuck in the air a fraction of a second too long. Punch’s eyes darted to follow his hoof. Down an aisle, in front of the grape juice, stood a zebra-sized cluster of slightly ‘off’ colors, just like the ‘-IDS’ on the sign.
A chameleon. She’d watch her words. Berry Punch’s eyes flicked back to the shopkeeper as if she’d seen nothing.
“Hey, Berry,” the shopkeeper said with a smile.
“Hi, Discount,” she said.
“Fancy seeing you here today. Where’s your usual distributor?”
Berry Punch chuckled. “Where do you think? He’s with all the rest of the pegasi who went to Applewood and Las Pegasus.”
Discount’s eyebrows raised. “You mean that he left Tall Grass, too? But why? It’s just great here!”
“Oh, I know,” said Punch, her voice tinged with the slightest sarcasm. “It’s almost as nice as Van—uh... Savanna.”
“Unless I get that special contract, I’m not going to have any customers left at this rate. Business is down,” Discount sighed, his face melancholy.
Her eyebrow raised. “I hope that you still want my shipment, at least.”
“Hmm…” said Discount. “Well, let me see.”
Discount gazed at Berry Punch and motioned with his eyes towards the chameleon. Discount hustled over towards the grape juice where the discoloration stood. Punch took another aisle, and they both met in the middle. They had now trapped the chameleon between them.
Discount pretended that he still didn’t notice the chameleon, even though he’d have to be blind not to. As he reached towards the grape juice, his hoof touched the zebra, and the camouflage changed into black and white stripes.
“Hello, citizens,” the officer said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just been caught spying. “Obeying the new laws, I hope?”
Berry Punch and Discount smiled and nodded at the officer, who wore a badge and an octagonal hat.
“Good,” he said. He scurried down the aisle and the doorbell rang as he left the shop.
Now confident that they were alone, Discount and Berry Punch both burst out laughing.
“You know, I normally try not to catch them, but it’s always funny when I do. They act just like teenage peeping Toms when they’re caught,” Discount chuckled.
“The zebras should get a few pointers from the unicorns on invisibility. I could spot that cammy from across the store,” Berry Punch noted.
“Well, what can you expect from using a potion that you can mix up in three hours to turn invisible, instead of using a magic spell that takes years to learn? Invisibility is like fine wine: it takes time to perfect,” said Discount.
“Funny you should mention that,” replied Berry Punch. “I’ve been doing some research since prohibition took effect. Since I can’t make alcohol anymore, I decided I’d study potion making. Well, as much as an earth pony can hope to. Some of the more advanced potions, like the chameleon potions we need, call for zebra magic.”
Discount nodded. “Since you’ve been here last, I’ve stocked more potions. Whiff of Wellness, Cauldron of Cleanliness, all sorts. Replacing the lost alcohol with potions has been the only thing that’s kept the liquor store afloat. ‘Cause let’s be honest, here, your current product isn’t exactly flying off the shelves...”
He pointed towards the almost full shelf of grape juice.
Berry Punch shrugged. “It’s the economy. My grape juice is pricey compared to cheaper substitutes like soda. And a lot of our customers moved to Equestria. The only big spenders in Tall Grass anymore are the zebras. That stupid tax sure isn’t helping us, either.”
She scowled. She had thought that Equestria’s taxes were bad. At least they hadn’t been taxing her for being a non-zebra and then spending the money to enforce a ban on alcohol, her main product.
“Let’s go into the back,” said Discount. He flipped the ‘back in five minutes’ sign and locked the shop door. Then, he and Berry Punch continued into the back office.
Inside sat Zecora and Zarek at the table. Zarek ate a piece of pampas-grass jerky, which had replaced his usual cigarettes since the tobacco ban. Zecora read a copy of the Tall Grass Grazer, formerly known as the Tall Tale Times. Despite Zecora’s lawsuit against the internment, she was nevertheless a known Equestrian loyalist and threat to Zaporizhia. When she was in the Northwest, she had to stay hidden.
“Hi Zarek. Hi Zecora,” said Berry Punch.
“Hello, Discount and Berry Punch. Glad that you could join us for lunch,” said Zecora.
“It’s four in the afternoon, and I’ve already eaten,” Discount quipped.
“Take it easy on Zecora!” Zarek implored. “She has to come up with these rhymes on the spot. She can’t always get them perfect.”
Berry Punch giggled. “What, are you her lawyer for everyday life, now, too?”
All four laughed.
“So how did the Drowsilia work out?” asked Discount.
“We tested it on an unsuspecting guard the other day. He dropped dead this morning. I think we finally have a working virus in a large enough amount,” said Zarek.
“The problem now is distribution. It requires your solution,” said Zecora, turning to Zarek.
Zarek nodded. “The chameleons are clever. Their camouflage might be easy to spot, but their source, not so much. At first, I thought that they mixed the chameleon potions in-house, but actually, they buy from private potion suppliers. Only three chemists in the whole northwest are trusted enough to make it. You have to fill out reams of paperwork and legal documents to be authorized to sell it. There’s a whole extra hundred pages of background checks if you’re a non-zebra like Discount. But I got through the red tape. Soon, Discount Liquids will be an authorized chameleon potion supplier for the Tall Grass Religious Police. After that, Zammi’s Potions, Wheeler Wonders, and the Homely Herbalist will all be de-authorized for major violations. I’ve observed rats in their stores, inconsistencies in their brewing process, and unsecured potion storage lockers.”
Discount smiled. “And just like you asked, I’ve been tidying up everything around the shop to make sure that I’m not denied, either.”
“Good, and I hope that you haven’t said anything incriminating, because you never know who could be listening,” said Zarek.
“No problem there. Discount and I were just talking up the ZE in front of a cammy,” said Berry Punch. “I’ve finished switching the winemaking vats over to making chameleon potion. I have all of the ingredients, so now it just needs your zebra magic touch, Zecora.”
“It’s all coming together, then. It could be a while before we strike, because everything needs to be in position first,” said Zarek.
Discount frowned. “We’ve already waited two years. I say that we do it as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the higher the risk that we’ll get caught.”
Berry Punch nodded in agreement, also eager to get on with the attack.
“No,” said Zarek. “Zecora wants to wait until we know that we can strike with maximum effectiveness. She’s going to coordinate our efforts with the princess, and get Equestrian special forces support. We don’t want this to turn out like the last rebellion. We want this one to be nice and clean, and for us to win.”
Berry Punch reluctantly nodded. She recalled the three months after Tall Tall and Vanhoover had initially become Tall Grass and Savanna. Hundreds of thousands of residents fled the cities, leaving their homes. Most of them had nothing but the saddlebags on their backs. Others, like her, stayed out of sheer obstinance or need. She couldn’t imagine life anywhere else, where she couldn’t grow her grapes, in just the right coastal climate, with her hard-working, now-legal zebra immigrants.
But then, after the three-month grace period, the religious laws and the non-zebra tax came into effect in April 2026. Despite Princess Twilight’s calls for peace, not everypony obeyed. Thousands of ponies rebelled, and started killing zebras all over the cities. Like Zaporizhia himself, his opponents had little regard for civilians. To Berry Punch, it seemed like the rebels’ enemies weren’t just the Zebra Empire military or police, but all zebras. In addition to bomb and gun attacks against police stations and military bases, the rebels also burnt down zebra churches and schools, and shot random zebras on the streets.
The most extreme anti-Zebra faction was a militant atheist group called The Eradication, which sought to cure the ‘mind virus’ of organized religion. They had previously burnt down pony churches in Equestria, so the new Tall Grass theocracy drew them like flies to dung. They crucified zebra children and ate their hearts. They tortured a zebra grandmother who’d lived in Tall Tale her whole life, and then broadcast her screams over a pirate radio broadcast. The group was so brutal that even some of the other rebels started infighting with them, since their terrorism was discrediting the cause.
Infighting also occurred between Equestrian loyalist ponies and the zebra rebels. The ponies wanted Tall Tale to return to Equestria. The zebra rebels hated Zaporizhia, but still wanted an independent, secular Tall Grass where zebras could be free from discrimination. The fractured rebellion was finally put down in mid-2026 when a new potion was discovered, made from a type of moss indigenous to the Northwestern forests, which allowed zebras to turn partially-invisible. The potion needed zebra magic to make, and only worked on zebras, so it gave the Zebra religious police and military a huge tactical advantage. But that was about to change.
Hopefully, Berry Punch thought, when the next rebellion came, it would be only against the religious authorities who oppressed ponies and zebras alike. The civilian zebras should be left in peace. So Berry Punch, Discount, Zarek, and Zecora would fire the first shot, but only at those who truly deserved death.
Fillydelphia: April 2028
Pound Cake flew through the unusually clear and fresh sky of Fillydelphia, and his lungs filled with clean air. He could actually see the blue sky above the city with no haze.
At least there’s an upside to a bad economy, he thought.
In the two years since Equestria had surrendered Tall Tale and Vanhoover to the Zebra Empire, the Equestrian GDP had fallen by 10%. Losing Tall Tale and Vanhoover was the biggest blow. Refugees overwhelmed local government resources, straining budgets, and the homeless population grew. Tall Tale and Vanhoover had been major shipping ports, so without them, transnational trade tumbled. Factory orders for raw materials went unfilled, while finished goods sat in warehouses unsold. Ships lined up for hours at Equestria’s remaining major ports of Baltimare, Manehattan, and Applewood.
But even though a lack of trade had harmed the economy, so too had a new trading partner. The Second Duchy had finally perfected automated unicorn farming. The free trade treaty had put many Equestrian small farmers out of business, since their hoof-pulled plows couldn’t compete with the efficiency of mechanized farming. World food prices plummeted. Normally, that would be good, since consumers would have extra disposable income. But with Equestria’s unemployment at 13%, many ponies had no income at all.
After the war, the military laid off fifty thousand soldiers and 100,000 military support personnel: cooks, maintenance ponies, etcetera. Fillydelphia now had the worst economy in Equestria, since the military’s equipment orders from JSUC and other Fillydelphia factories had slowed to a trickle. Thousands of workers lost their jobs. As Pound Cake passed by the soup kitchen, the line stretched for five blocks. When ponies had lost their jobs and started to default on their home mortgages, a few banks had failed and needed bailouts.
Pound Cake glanced towards Manehattan. Some ponies had blamed parliament for Equestria’s troubles. Silver Spoon, the silver magnate, laid off 5,000 ponies at the Dodge Junction mines, and blamed new environmental rules passed by the now-majority Party of Laborers. Nonsense, Pound Cake thought. Environmental laws were good for the environment, good for the citizens, and therefore, good for the economy. Even if it did harm her mining business, it was worth it so that the groundwater wouldn’t be contaminated with heavy metals.
The Party of Laborers had also increased taxes and the minimum wage, which businessponies had complained about ceaselessly. The usual suspects: Diamond Tiara, Filthy Rich, and the Oranges, had all threatened to offshore their businesses. But high taxes and a high minimum wage were both needed, in Pound’s opinion. Equestria needed the money to establish a safety net for the poor, and so that the government could employ more ponies. The Party of Laborers hadn’t gone far enough, and Pound thought they were too weak. Some of them were even in bed with the banks and had approved bailouts.
If Pound were in charge, he wouldn’t have sacked a single soldier after the war. In fact, he’d have raised taxes and enlisted even more soldiers, nationalized JSUC munitions, and liberated Tall Tale and Vanhoover from the Zebras. If he couldn’t do that, then he’d use the money to build new ports and increase trade—the free market clearly hadn’t moved fast enough. But he’d also impose a tariff on imported wheat and corn from the Second Duchy, the free trade clause of the peace treaty be damned. They were putting Equestrian farmers out of jobs. And, of course, he would demand a parliamentary inquiry into every major case of corruption. The courts were moving far too slowly on prosecutions. Graft and bribery alone probably cut Equestria’s ailing economy by 5%. It infuriated him.
And his sister… he couldn’t even think about what she’d been doing these last two years, or he might vomit in disgust. Every time he saw her, usually only on holidays or birthdays, he had to refrain from sliding a magic suppression ring around her horn for the good of society.
Pound Cake entered the door of the new Equestrians For Action building. It was smaller and in a crime-ridden area of town, as they had to sell of their old building due to the tough times. The EFA mostly relied on member contributions to function, which had been way down, even as membership had spiked. Pound Cake, Rainbow Dash, and the other council ponies had all taken severe pay cuts. Even as co-chairpony, Pound Cake barely earned enough to eat or afford good housing. Pumpkin Cake had offered him a gift of fifty thousand bits, but he would rather pluck his wings off feather by feather than take a single cent of her rotten, stinking money.
The EFA meeting room was small and cramped, with little room in between the table and the walls for ponies to scoot out of their chairs. Lead paint peeled off the walls, the shag carpet was worn, and the table was dented and scratched. The room had an odd earthy smell that Pound only hoped wasn’t asbestos.
Around the table sat Rainbow Dash, chairpony; Doctor Stable, head of the Healthcare wing; Raindrops, head of the Anti-Corruption wing and the chief of the Fillydelphia Police Department; Featherweight, head of the Basic Necessities wing; and Organized Labor, head of the Labor Unions wing.
“Ah, Co-chair Pound Cake has arrived. We can start the meeting,” said Doctor Stable.
“Awesome,” said Rainbow Dash, smiling. “First, Doctor Stable with an update on health care.”
Doctor Stable nodded. “Thank you, Chairmare. Due to the recession, twenty percent of ponies lack adequate health insurance. Despite my extensive lobbying, the bill to implement a single-payer health care system is stuck in parliament, filibustered by the Equestrian Voters Party. The Party of Laborers refuses to amend the filibuster rules to allow a simple majority vote, which they could surely win. Every day they don’t act, expensive hospital bills bankrupt ponies, and many die without care. Equestria is the only industrialized nation without universal healthcare. We pay twice as much for care per capita than other countries, because the free market is inefficient. All care in Equestria should be no cost, no exceptions. Medicine is a fundamental right.”
“You’re preachin’ to the choir,” Pound Cake said. Everypony chuckled.
Doctor Stable smiled. “I do have some good news, though. Thanks to our group’s campaign, 60% of Equestrians polled by Gallop now answer that our health system ‘does need reform.’ Additionally, just yesterday, my colleagues and I published another article in the Manehattan Gynecological Journal warning expectant mothers about the dangers of delivering their children in foal farms. Several hundred obstetricians and gynecologists have been put out of jobs. And for what? Low-quality, cookie-cutter care from a ‘midwife’ instead of a doctor. Cheaper care means exactly that: cheap. Ponies shouldn’t be forced to seek out such low-priced, quack alternatives, because even the best care should be free. Foal farms should be banned, just like sweatshops.”
“Amen,” said Rainbow Dash. “Next up, Featherweight with the Basic Necessities Department.”
“Thanks, Rainbow Dash,” said Featherweight. “Our soup kitchens in Manehattan and Fillydelphia can barely keep up with demand. The official unemployment figures are wrong. The real number is 25%, not 13%. Many ponies have stopped paying their water bills. Most of my workers at the desalination plant in Las Pegasus now have to get second jobs. I’d love to pay them more, but that’s just not possible with our current finances.”
Organized Labor narrowed her eyes at Featherweight, and he shrugged slightly.
Organized Labor said, “As for the unions, our remaining dockhooves in the ASDF have had their hours doubled to pick up the slack from Tall Tale and Vanhoover. The average Manehattanite stevedore now works eighty hours a week, but with overtime pay limited. Just like Featherweight here, the dock management all say that they’re hurting, too. But how can that be when their profit margins are well above 3%, and they’re making record money? In my mind, any profit is exploitation at the expense of the workers, but surely at least half of their 3% margins can go to the workers who make it possible.”
“Greed knows no bounds,” said Raindrops. “The treason and corruption cases for the Oranges and JSUC are stalled in the courts. Their lawyers argue that, since Equestria made peace with the Second Kingdom and surrendered to the Zebras, those treaties retroactively absolve them from any wrongdoing. It’s the sleaziest argument I’ve ever heard, but a lower court dismissed the case against the Oranges. It’s on appeal now. Also, regular street corruption is through the roof. Cops trying to make ends meet are demanding even more bribes. Drugs, guns, and dirty money have gone ‘missing’ from evidence lockers. I’ve fired a dozen crooked cops just this week. Corruption won’t fly in Fillydelphia!”
The other councilmembers all cheered.
“That’s good news,” said Pound Cake. “But… I don’t know…”
They all looked at him inquisitively.
“It’s just… we’ve been having these same meetings for two years. Like clockwork. It’s always the same problems. No health care. No workers’ rights. Starving ponies. Corruption. It all comes from the same place: greed at the top, at the expense of us at the bottom.”
“Yep,” said Rainbow Dash. The rest of them nodded.
“So we need a new strategy. We need to remind the parliament who’s in charge. We need to remind those bankers and businessponies that they’re outnumbered and unpopular. We need a protest.”
“We’ve been protesting,” said Rainbow Dash. “Every few months, we have a big march. Thousands of ponies come.”
“That’s not good enough!” exclaimed Pound Cake, slamming his hoof into the table, making everypony jolt. “Our marches last an hour, and then everypony forgets us. Parliament always promises to pass new laws, but never does. The oligarchs always give some pittance to their workers, like a small holiday bonus, but then as soon as we leave the streets, it’s back to being abused.”
“What do you want us to do, Pound Cake?” asked Featherweight. “Ponies can’t protest all the time. Most of them have jobs.”
Pound Cake chuckled. “Not anymore, they don’t. A lot of them are jobless and homeless.”
Then Rainbow Dash smiled. “Wait a minute, Pound. You’ve given me an idea…”
Mareicopa: April 2028
The white-washed hallways of Saint Prancis Medical Center were overflowing. Patients sat on benches, leaned against the walls, or sat on the floor, while doctors tried to squeeze their way through. Since the Mareicopa Special City Council had voted to repeal all magic laws, medical tourists from all over Equestria had come to receive various treatments. Voodoo cancer treatments and want-it, need-it pain management were the most popular. Because of the influx of business, Mareicopa had the highest household income in Equestria, and was Equestria’s only city with unemployment below 10%.
But ironically, despite the magic law repeal, the most popular treatments in Mareicopa were also legal everywhere else in Equestria, and weren’t even carried out inside St. Prancis.
Right across the street from the hospital sat a two-story clinic formerly called “Backup Plan.” Before the Second Kingdom occupation, it was an abortion clinic, and would cater to pregnant mares who couldn’t have the procedure at the religious Saint Prancis. After the SK occupation and the abortion ban, Backup Plan had closed its doors. Now that the SK was gone, the clinic had reopened, but under new management. It would conduct no abortions; instead, it focused on an entirely new branch of medicine.
Two years ago, when Equestria had surrendered Starswirl Peak, Pumpkin Cake had thought that her days of making millions were over. But it was actually a blessing in disguise. She’d invested a few million bits into a business venture, and it was paying off enormous dividends that made the mining operation look like peanuts by comparison.
A giant new sign at the top of the clinic said, “PHASE HEALING.” Lines stretched around the block. Some ponies had even pitched tents on the sidewalk. If the line had been filled with cosplayers instead of cancer patients, it might’ve resembled the queue of feverish fans camping outside of a bookstore for the new Daring Do novel release.
“Hot dogs, get your hot dogs here!” A vendor pulled a hot dog cart, salty-smelling steam wafting from it. He had several buyers.
Once ponies finally got to the front of the line, they sat inside the crowded waiting room. Nurse Redheart sat at the front desk, sometimes running off to do nurse duties, and other times handling check-in at the short-staffed clinic.
“What is your name?” she asked a patient, smiling.
“Valence Knock,” said the stallion.
“And what is your condition, Mr. Valence?”
“Inoperable lung tumor. I heard there’s a doctor here who can remove it safely.”
Nurse Redheart clarified, “There is a pony here, yes, but Pumpkin Cake is not a doctor, and has no doctoral degree. She just knows a unique magic spell. However, all procedures are supervised and guided by a licensed surgeon.”
Valence shrugged. “I guess if that’s the only way. I already rode all the way across the desert here from Albuckerque, and have only two months to live, so I might as well.”
Nurse Redheart nodded. “Good decision. But let’s have it in writing, shall we?”
She retrieved a clipboard with a piece of paper attached.
“This is a waiver,” said Nurse Redheart. “The gist of it is in paragraph seven. ‘For these medical services, you forego all legal rights to sue either Miss Cake, the attending physician, or Phase Healing, LLC in the event of any injury or death alleged to have been caused by the aforementioned parties, except in cases of gross negligence or recklessness.”
Valence’s eyebrow raised. “That sounds harsh. My other doctors never made me sign anything like that in Albuckerque.”
“The laws are different in Mareicopa,” said Nurse Redheart.
Pumpkin Cake had lobbied the new council of Mareicopa to pass malpractice reform and other laws favorable to health care professionals. With the right waivers and disclosures, it was very difficult for a patient to sue a care provider in Mareicopa who’d acted in good faith. In the rest of Equestria, the situation was reversed, and frivolous lawsuits abounded.
Valence signed the form.
“Thank you,” said Nurse Redheart, and filed the form inside of a cabinet behind her desk which was nearly full to bursting. She slammed it shut with a clank.
“Now, let’s discuss payment options. The prices are on the price list above me.”
“Price list?” asked Valence. He chuckled. “That’s something new. Most doctors don’t take payment until after the procedure. You have no idea what it’ll cost beforehoof.”
“We like to be transparent with our patients, and we find it helps keep costs down,” said Nurse Redheart.
He gazed up at the price list above the desk. It was organized almost like a restaurant menu.
PHASE HEALING CLINIC PROCEDURES:
CHILDBIRTH No long, agonizing hours spent in labour. No risk of complications. Painless, instant childbirth at the time and date of your choosing, in a five-minute procedure! No abortions, sorry. 2,000 bits if scheduled one week or more in advance 3,000 bits within one week 5,000 bits if emergency Ask about our 50%-off groupon!
APPENDIX REMOVAL Remove an infected or inflamed appendix. No anesthesia required! 7,000 bits
TUMOR REMOVAL Remove a cancerous tumor. Works in any area of the body. Have other doctors turned you away? Give yourself a second chance and beat the odds! 7,000 bits for regular tumor 10,000 bits if otherwise inoperable.
Other procedures available on request. No house calls. Cash only. Pain-free guarantee, or your money back!
Valence’s eyes widened. “Ten thousand bits? In a recession? That’s insane! And cash only? What about my insurance?”
Nurse Redheart shook her head. “I understand your frustration, but look at the long line out there. Thousands of ponies need to see Miss Cake for all sorts of things. It’s basic supply and demand. Keeping a clinic like this open, advertising, and keeping our employees paid costs money. Avoiding the insurance companies lets us keep our administrative costs low, but you can always seek reimbursement from them yourself. Besides, think about it this way. Our care is actually rather affordable. What would this surgery cost you at a regular hospital, if you could even get it done there?”
Valence stared down at the floor. “A lot more, I guess. Twenty, thirty thousand, maybe.”
Nurse Redheart nodded. “I used to work in a hospital, and that sounds about right. So just grab a seat, and Miss Cake will see you as soon as she can.”
“And… just another suture there… that should do it,” said the surgeon.
Valence’s eyebrow raised up as he looked at the unicorn surgeon who held the scalpel in his magic, and Pumpkin Cake, who’d allowed him to reach the inoperable tumor.
“That… that’s it?” Valence asked.
“You can even see it, if you want,” said Pumpkin Cake. A small, mushy, gross lump floated up towards Valence.
He guffawed, and laughed so much so that he nearly fell onto the floor, tears streaming from his eyes.
“I… I can’t believe that little thing was going to kill me, and all the other… all the other doctors said there wasn’t anything to… to do, and you took it out in two minutes with no pain, no blood, no sedatives! Oh my goodness… thank you both so much!”
He hugged Pumpkin Cake and the surgeon in a giant bear hug.
“You’re welcome, sir,” said the surgeon.
“And it’s nothing, really. I’ve been casting that spell my whole life,” said Pumpkin, smiling as she blushed. Despite working in the medical industry for over two years now, she never had gotten used to receiving high praises for something that, to her, seemed so mundane.
Valence practically skipped out the door.
“What’s next on the list?” the surgeon asked.
Pumpkin glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s three o’clock. Time to go up and down the east coast and do deliveries.”
As if on cue, a bright flash erupted, and Walkabout appeared.
“G’day Pumpkin. Ready to harvest the foal farms?”
Though Pumpkin had invented quick, painless, group childbirth sessions, she hadn’t coined the term ‘foal farm.’ She preferred either ‘mass delivery,’ or maybe ‘cash cow.’ It was highly profitable, at 1,000 bits per child delivered, and she could deliver over a thousand foals per day, even in addition to her other duties. And her services were always in demand, even in a bad economy: the soldiers returning from war had started a baby boom, and a thousand bits was dirt cheap compared to a hospital.
Pumpkin Cake’s media critics and competitors had coined the words ‘foal farm’ to try to scare mares away from it. Walkabout started using the term himself as a point of defiance. It reminded Pumpkin of how certain racial groups had tried to ‘take back’ slurs used against them, like zebras who casually called each other ‘zeeb.’
The media alarmists had all said, “Don’t go to the foal farm, or your baby will have autism! He’ll get ear infections, and he might die! The clinics are unregulated and nasty!” In particular, Doctor Stable had written papers about the supposed risks of birth by intangibility. Nonsense. Pumpkin wasn’t a doctor—she only called herself a midwife—but she was studying to become one. Neither she nor the doctors she employed had ever found evidence suggesting that birth by intangibility was any riskier than vaginal birth. It was safe so long as it wasn’t done prematurely in the pregnancy before the baby had finished developing, and her staff checked for that.
In fact, birth by intangibility was better than traditional birth in every respect. It was very affordable. It was entirely painless. It never ruined the genitals. It could be scheduled a week in advance and took a few minutes. For a struggling working mother who didn’t want to go broke in a hospital and didn’t want to miss work, it was the best way to deliver a child. Doctor Stable desperately wanted the poor to have access to medical care, didn’t he? Even if it meant turning hospitals into bloated, government-run bureaucracies?
So Pumpkin would’ve thought that Doctor Stable, of all ponies, would encourage her affordable ‘foal farms.’ Or at the very least, he would know his place and keep his big mouth shut. But Doctor Stable represented hospitals that were bleeding billions in revenue to Pumpkin, and doctors who were losing their jobs to her. So of course he’d blatantly lie to preserve his own inefficient, overpriced medical establishment, she thought. And yet the EFA called Pumpkin selfish and greedy? It baffled her.
It also baffled Pumpkin Cake when a pony burst through the operating room door, fell to his knees, and pleaded at her.
“Please, Miss Cake, you gotta save my kid! He drank a bottle of rat poison when I wasn’t looking, and I can’t get him to vomit!”
Pumpkin was used to patients waiting their turn. They were called ‘patients’ for a reason. She also was used to her security guy catching those that tried to barge in. Nevertheless, Pumpkin tried to be as polite as Rarity had taught her to be in a customer service environment.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, forcing her mouth into a smile.
“Uh… no…”
“Is your child here at the clinic?”
“No, he’s at home.”
Pumpkin didn’t do house calls. The menu was clear on that. Ponies had tried luring her into traps at their ‘homes’ before. She sighed, as her veneer of politeness disappeared.
“Do you even have any money?”
The stallion shook his head. “No. I couldn’t carry him ‘cause I have a bad back and the ambulance wouldn’t come, and I can’t pay ‘cause I’m jobless. I need you to come to my home and turn his stomach intangible, so that the rat poison spills out and he doesn’t die!”
She shook her head. “No, sorry. I have a tight schedule. I’m not keeping my expectant mothers waiting.”
The stallion threw his hooves up. “Oh, come on! They can just give normal birth. This’ll take five minutes to save my son’s life!”
“Not doing it.”
“You greedy, foul witch! Come save him right now!” he demanded, shouting as his face contorted in a scowl.
“Well, I doubt she’ll do it with you calling her names like that,” Walkabout quipped. “Why not call her a stingy ranga sorceress while you’re at it, too?”
Pumpkin said, “And I’m not greedy; I’m just self-interested. I do charity care. Ever heard of Free Care Friday? I do it so that ponies like you won’t shake me down on the other days of the week. I’m sorry, but today’s Tuesday, and you should’ve kept a better eye on your kid. Security!”
Nopony came.
Walkabout grinned. “I got him. Off ya go!”
The stallion disappeared in a flash as Walkabout teleported him back into the waiting room. The security guard arrived back from his break and escorted the kicking and screaming stallion out of the building.
The evening sun hung low in the western sky, obscured by the skyscrapers in Manehattan. After traveling to the major cities along the eastern seaboard to visit all of the Phase Healing branches there, Pumpkin and Walkabout were both exhausted. They usually always took a dinner break at a different pizza parlor every night, all of which claimed to have “Manehattan’s best pizza.” Thus far, only DeManey’s on seventeenth met food-lover Walkabout’s high standards. Pumpkin didn’t really care as long as she ate something.
They walked towards DeManey’s, crossing Celestial Street.
Pumpkin raised an eyebrow. “Is somepony camping?”
On the square in front of the Equestrian parliament, dozens of tents sat on the pavement, with ponies all around. A makeshift fire rose from a trash can.
“They look like derros,” said Walkabout. “But the homeless don’t usually have picket signs, just cahdboard ones.”
As the gathering had piqued their interest, they both walked over. Soon, they realized what the gathering was. A pony shouted through a megaphone loudly, in the middle of giving a speech: Pound Cake. He was too far away to see them, thankfully.
“...The greedy oligarchs like the Oranges, JSUC, and even my own sister have run this country for way too long, making billions of bits while ponies in poverty go without food, water, shelter, and medicine! Corrupt tycoons like Filthy Rich kick ponies off their own land. Banks get huge government bailouts, and foreclosed houses are unoccupied when you all could be living in them. Street cops demand bribes. This greed is an epidemic that’s killing Equestria, and it's all signed off by a dictator ‘princess’ who’s unelected and unaccountable!”
The crowd, now a few hundred ponies, cheered.
Pound continued, “For years, we’ve marched and demanded that our elected parliament provide for its people, but they haven’t. A single march is easy to forget, but let’s see if they’ll forget us when we’re here constantly. From now on, we won’t leave Parliamentary Square until our demands for a fairer and freer Equestria are met! We’ll peacefully protest every day, and we won’t back down until we get what we deserve, what we are entitled to as basic rights!”
More and more ponies streamed into the square from the streets around. Some were filthy and obviously homeless, while others were better-dressed protesters. Many of them carried tents and backpacks, ready to set up.
Pound finished by shouting, “We are Equestria! We are united as a country! We are the vast, impoverished majority! We deserve housing, food, and health care! We deserve basic necessities! We deserve an elected president, not a princess for life! We deserve democracy and a government that works for us, not the rich!”
The cheers grew louder and louder as the crowd had now swelled to thousands.
In the Parliamentary Square of Manehattan, tens of thousands of ponies stood, singing and chanting slogans. Tents were sprawled all along the pavement, and the smell of cooking smoke from grills filled the air. On this warm, sunny day, the protest almost resembled a cookout, but for the chanting and picket signs. The protesters often accosted stock traders, businessponies, and police officers walking along the streets next to the square. Everypony wearing a suit was subjected to a barrage of questions and comments.
“How are you making so much money in a recession?”
“You’re either with us or against us!”
“Spare some change?”
Twilight Sparkle sat in the meeting room at her Royal Palace, which was a few blocks east on Celestial Street from Parliament and Parliamentary Square. The western window gave a good view of the crowds.
“There might be ten, maybe twenty thousand today,” said Twilight.
“Perhaps even more than that, if you count the ones in the financial district protesting the banks,” said a tall, lanky stallion with a silvery mane and golden coat, named Shiny Diamond. “They recognized me on my way over here and wouldn't let me pass, and one tried to assault me, but thankfully I had my security.”
Filthy Rich, who sat at the other end of the table, laughed. “Well, they sure don't like me, either! Not an inkling why, though; my Barnyard Bargains stores offer the most affordable goods in all of Equestria! My business is up in this bad economy since ponies need a place to shop that won’t hurt their pocketbook.”
Twilight Sparkle smiled. “Your stores have certainly done a lot to help the poor.”
The other Council members nodded. Twilight said, “Now, let’s get down to business of fixing the economy, so that all of those protesters can get good-paying jobs. Diamond Tiara is late, but we can start without her. This meeting of the Equestrian Economic Council has now come to order.”
The composition of the EEC was now quite different than at its inception years ago. Twilight had removed the Oranges, Jet Set, and Upper Crust from the council pending the outcome of the corruption and treason charges against them. Twilight had added Silver Spoon, a mining magnate; Diamond Tiara, a corporate conglomerate head; Shiny Diamond, the CEO of Pursuit Bank; a mare who managed the biggest port in Baltimare; and a stallion who ran a large farming cooperative in Manesas. With each of them representing distinct sectors of the economy, Twilight Sparkle felt that they all could brainstorm ideas for ending the recession.
“Our fields are barren once again,” said the farmer stallion. “We need another subsidy or else even more small farmers will go broke. I propose—”
Suddenly, the meeting room doors burst open. A scowling Diamond Tiara stormed in, her normally light-pink coat drenched in red paint.
“This is an outrage!” she yelled. Everypony blinked in surprise.
“What is it, Diamond Tiara?” asked Twilight Sparkle, summoning a wad of paper towels for Diamond Tiara to clean up with.
“Those ‘protesters’ doused me in red paint. They said it was the blood of all of those homeless ponies who’d died on the streets, since I don’t allow them to squat on my property,” said Diamond Tiara mockingly, tilting her head backwards in disgust as she wiped off the paint.
Diamond Tiara owned several businesses, including Tiara Realty, a large construction and real estate development firm, and Tiara Entertainment, which owned high-class resorts and casinos in Manehattan, Las Pegasus, and Applewood. She also held stock in many other corporations. Though Tiara’s personality was abrasive and caustic, Twilight Sparkle felt that Tiara’s tourism and real property businesses gave her a hoof on the economy’s pulse, and such insights made her a valuable Council member.
“That’s terrible, sweetie!” said Filthy Rich, running over and patting his daughter’s head. “Daddy knows how you feel; those ponies harass him, too.”
“Not like this!” Tiara whined. “This paint is just the final straw. My fine restaurant on Lunar Boulevard has had a twenty percent drop in revenue since this ‘Encampment’ started in April. None of my regulars come in anymore. The stink from these bums’ unwashed, filthy manes has filled up the store from a block away, like a foul, noxious cloud of poison. And none of the tourists are coming into town. They don’t want to see the sights when the square is filled up with tents and garbage.”
The ponies on the council nodded as Tiara spoke.
She sighed, wiping her forehead with her hoof. “And now, my assessor has said that, if the Encampment keeps up, the rental space value in the Tiara Tower could plummet by millions of bits. None of my rich tenants like Maestro Octavia, Photo Finish, or Bray Z want to look out their windows and see an eyesore on Parliamentary Square.”
The CEO of Pursuit Bank said, “I agree with Miss Tiara. The Encampment is a stain on our fine city. My banking business isn’t materially affected by it, though some stock brokers and investors have been harassed on their way to work. These ‘protesters’ have even walked onto the trading floor of the Manehattan Stock Exchange to disrupt traders. The markets have closed early for two days in a row. The Encampment has long gotten its message out. This has turned from a democratic protest into a public nuisance.”
“These Encampment ponies are so dirty and rude, they make my Barnyard Bargains shoppers look like royalty,” Filthy Rich laughed.
“I’d love to give them mining jobs so they could leave the square,” said Silver Spoon. “We just found another coal seam in Azurica: west of Dodge, out in the Palomino Desert. I’ll need at least two thousand miners for that alone. But those new mining regs mean that Secretary Fluttershy has to approve it, and apparently the coal has too high a sulfur content.”
Twilight Sparkle shook her head. “I apologize. Parliament passed that law over my veto. I can’t quite go over Fluttershy’s head, even though I’m—”
“A princess,” said Diamond Tiara. “And a Princess should exercise power befitting her role. She should keep the mining business going. She certainly shouldn’t be bossed around by a pony who she herself appointed...”
Twilight suppressed a giggle as she wondered if the bossy Diamond Tiara recognized the hypocrisy of her statement.
“...and she certainly shouldn’t let a tent city fester like a tumor in the heart of the capital,” Tiara added.
Twilight shrugged. “I understand your frustration, Miss Tiara. But those protesters are exercising their freedom of assembly. The red paint and a few isolated scuffles aside, they’ve been vastly peaceful and law-abiding. That square is public property free for general use, including camping. I can’t just kick them off; it would be undemocratic. I might be Princess for life, but I’m not a dictator.”
Everypony chuckled.
Diamond Tiara still frowned, and opened her mouth to speak again, but Filthy Rich held up a hoof at his daughter.
“What about a compromise?” he asked. “One that respects their right to protest, but also respects my daughter’s business?”
Twilight nodded. “I’m open to suggestions.”
Filthy Rich said, “I keep my stores clean and tidy. Every evening, the janitors come mop and buffer the floor, and the stockers restock and straighten up the shelves. This Encampment has been on the square for two months straight. Make them leave for a few hours each day so that the streetsweepers and maintenance ponies can go in and pressure wash the pavement and pick up all the trash. That way, it doesn’t stink as much, and it’s not as much of an eyesore.”
Diamond Tiara nodded vigorously. “That’s the least you could do, Princess Twilight.”
Twilight smiled. “Okay, I think that strikes a reasonable balance. I’ll put out the announcement that the square will be cleaned from seven to nine this evening, and every evening thereafter.”
Pound Cake was lying down inside of his shady tent, his wings sprawled out, his sleeping bag the only cushion between him and the paving stones below. The night was soon to come, and he was exhausted from a long day of speeches and chanting in the square.
For two months of protesting, little had been accomplished. The parliament had only passed a few minor bills before adjourning for its summer recess. They gave a farm subsidy to the small farmers in Manesas and Neighbraska, approved a public works project in Baltimare for a single new dock, and banned cigarette companies from radio advertisements. Though these were welcome laws, much remained to be done. Equestria needed to tackle corruption, build a strong military, and provide a welfare safety net before Pound would ever be satisfied. Only when ponies felt safe and secure would peace prevail in Equestria and worldwide. When ponies were destitute, fearful, addicted, and greedy, wars broke out. Cities seceded, like Cloudsdale and Mareicopa. Ponies died without food, water, or medicine, or they were killed... like his parents. But he and the Encampment would provide a better world for a peaceful future.
He sighed as he gazed out through the opening of his tent. He hoped that these protesters would stay through the summer recess, even in the sweltering heat, and be there when Parliament reconvened in August. The protest couldn’t afford to lose momentum or dwindle in numbers. At least five thousand of the protesters were homeless and had nowhere else to go, but the rest had homes and might get protest fatigue. Pound himself was beginning to feel it after two months, and would have loved to sleep on a nice cloud or cushy bed instead of a sleeping bag on the pavement. But his convictions were comforting enough.
An announcement came over a megaphone.
“Attention, occupants of Parliamentary Square. The plaza is due for its daily cleaning. Please vacate the premises by seven o’clock. You may return in two hours. Thank you.”
Pound’s head jolted off the concrete. He rushed outside. Ponies stood around in confusion, and the usual line of police stood around the square, no apparent change in their demeanor. Some ponies thought the announcement was a prank, and made no effort to leave. Only a few dozen complied. Pound, though, recognized the voice on the megaphone: a police sergeant who he and Rainbow Dash had often spoken to. The stallion, named Sergeant Cuffs, had always disliked for the Encampment. Though the gathering was technically legal, Cuffs tried to find every excuse that he could to dispel it.
He had argued that the Encampment should be shut down for public safety, since a crime wave of petty theft and vandalism had started since the protests began. However, Rainbow Dash pleaded directly to Princess Twilight, who had conceded that there was no way to know if the spike in crime was due to the Encampment in particular, or just due to the bad economy in general. After that argument failed, Sergeant Cuffs started requiring the Encampment to fill out lengthy permits every day that they remained on the square, but the EFA had lawyers who could easily navigate the paperwork.
Now, Sergeant Cuffs was trying a new tactic. The plaza had to be ‘cleaned.’ Pound hovered in the air above the hundreds of tents and thousands of ponies who slept in them, or who walked around as the day drew to a close.
The tents were a bit ratty and torn from months of being outside, but the tents weren’t being cleaned, just the plaza. The protesters’ colorful, intricate chalk drawings of labor symbols, landscapes, and slogans covered the pavement like tattoos, and hardly a space was bare. But that was okay; normally, children would doodle with chalk on Parliamentary Square when nopony was protesting on it. Trash was scattered around on the ground in random places, but nothing excessive: only a couple hundred aluminum cans and snack wrappers. The protesters normally picked up after themselves. After all, they had pledged to live on this square until Parliament passed their laws, so why wouldn’t they keep their own temporary home clean?
To Pound Cake, cleaning the plaza was just an excuse to get the Encampment to leave. Oh, sure, the sergeant said that they could come back later, but then the cleaners would come back the next day, and then their cleaning would take even longer. Pretty soon, they’d be ‘cleaning’ the park all the time and the protests wouldn’t be allowed. Pound knew exactly how this worked.
So did Organized Labor, Hoops, Dumb Bell, and Rainbow Dash, who met in the large official EFA tent at the center of the square, standing around a picnic table inside.
“I say no way we leave,” said Hoops. “They’re just trying to kick us off!”
Organized Labor nodded. “They use this same tactic at the factories in Fillydelphia for strikebreaking. The factory managers cooperate with the police and send in firefighters with hoses.”
“We can’t let that happen here,“ said Pound Cake.
Rainbow Dash solemnly nodded. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but we need to stand our ground. They can clean around us all they want, but none of us are moving our tents. Go let them know, you guys.”
The clock had struck seven, and a dozen ponies held brooms and walked onto the northwest corner of the square. They swept reeking garbage out of the way, and clouds of dust and dirt rose into the air. After the orders had percolated down from Pound Cake, ponies had stayed with their tents on the square, but they stood out of the way and allowed the cleaners to do their jobs. But the activists still talked to the cleaners, though.
“We can clean our own plaza; this is our home,” ponies would object.
Others would beckon, “Come join us! You deserve better than a minimum wage street sweeping job!” The janitors ignored the protesters, just trying to work.
It went on peacefully but tense like this until the janitors reached the first row of tents. Their supervisor, a scruffy old pegasus stallion, pointed at the tents.
“Clean under ‘em,” he grunted. The other janitors obliged, and four of them grabbed a corner of a tent and lifted it up. Nopony was inside. Another janitor swept the dirt, gunk, and grime out from beneath it. A second pony came by with a power washer and sprayed down a jet of water. The pavement turned from dusty grey to white as he did this.
“Next one, keep it goin’; we don’t have all evening,” he implored. The team continued to another tent, but found a young unicorn mother and her two children inside.
“I ain’t budging!” she declared. “My kids are asleep for the night and you’re not waking them up! I’m homeless, and this tent is my only shelter!”
“Shut up, lady,” the cleaning supervisor scoffed. Janitors walked over to the four corners to lift up the tent, but the mare levitated the ponies off the ground when they got close.
The crowd cheered at this mare’s act of defiance.
The supervisor sighed, shook his head, and flew over. With a quick flick of his hoof, he whacked the mare’s horn. It didn’t cause pain, but it did stop her levitation spell, so the four janitors continued as if nothing had happened.
This set off the crowd, particularly the ones farther away, to whom it looked like he had just punched a poor, single mother in the face. They booed and jeered, and wrenched the brooms, mops, and buckets from the other janitors. Wood from the handles cracked and splintered, and buckets of soap and water splashed all over.
A young stallion threw a punch at a janitor, who had tried to wrench back his mop. A hoof fight broke out.
“Please, stay calm, everypony,” Rainbow Dash implored over the megaphone. But by now, scuffles between the cleaning crew and the Encampment had started all over the plaza.
“You are unlawfully assembled,” Sergeant Cuffs declared over the megaphone. “Protesters will all vacate the square immediately. Those who remain are subject to arrest.”
The crowd booed and jeered, as the police line slowly started tightening on all four sides of the square.
Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake hovered near the center of the square, about ten meters up, observing the showdown.
Pound Cake turned to Rainbow Dash, expecting her to make another announcement. Paddy wagons had arrived on the streets around the square. There would be a mass arrest that would spell the end of the Encampment. But Rainbow Dash said nothing into the megaphone. Pound Cake desperately wanted her to encourage the protesters to stand their ground. Almost a minute passed, with the police noose tightening around the crowd. A fire engine arrived on the scene as Pound predicted that the police would use fire hoses on them.
But then, Pound realized: Rainbow Dash couldn’t tell them to break the law directly. Just like she had sent Pound, Hoops, and Dumbbell to go tell the protesters to not move their tents. As the chairpony of the EFA, she needed to maintain plausible deniability and look good in the public eye. But Pound Cake wouldn’t let this protest be crushed, or the dreams of the impoverished masses along with it.
He grabbed the microphone from Rainbow Dash’s hooves and shouted, “Stand your ground! Don’t let the police move another inch! This is our square, not theirs!”
The crowd cheered. Ponies punched and shoved the police. Glass shattered as ponies threw empty soda and beer bottles. The riot shields clanked as tin cans hit them. Ponies ripped the shields from their hooves and whacked them on the heads. The fire hose turned on, but a pegasus swooped in and slashed it with a knife. A police van burst into flames as an orange-coated unicorn lit it ablaze.
“BURN IT DOWN!” he shouted, cackling maniacally.
“Cops go home! Cops go home!” the Encampment yelled.
The clashes continued for ten minutes, with the police firing tear gas and pegasus officers attempting to swoop into the square, but with activists holding them back. Finally, off in the distance, Sergeant Cuffs motioned away. The officers pulled back to the opposite streets as the Encampment whooped and hollered.
Pound Cake smiled as the tents and protesters remained.
“We’ll never leave this square ‘till our demands are met!” he shouted.
Everypony cheered.
Hollow Shades
“...and the police, outnumbered and outfought, drew back to their original lines, on the outside of the streets leading up to the square. I think it’s clear that they can use more force if they want to, but the police really want to avoid any bloodshed or rioting in Equestria’s largest city. I spoke to Sergeant Cuffs this morning, and that was the impression that he gave me. Either way, the Encampment has won this round. This is Maron Destreet reporting from WMNE in Manehattan. Back to you, George.”
Inside a small hut in Hollow Shades, Hayseed Turniptruck and dozens of his extended family members clapped, cheered, and hollered, throwing their hats up into the air. The radio on the rickety wooden table shook as they stomped their hooves.
“Yeah! Us little folk really can make a difference!” Hayseed’s uncle Verl shouted as he sat on a tatty old recliner, a beer wedged in between his rolls of belly fat.
“I’ll say. Boy howdy, they sure dun showed them pigs who’s boss!” his cousin Jaysee whooped, waving her cowboy hat in the air.
Turniptruck himself was elated and ecstatic, as he popped the top on his fifth beer of the night. His clan had been listening to the radio broadcast live from Manehattan like they would normally watch a Hollow Shades High School hoofball game, or like they would normally celebrate the completion of a successful harvest at his old farm.
His farm…
“Hey... hey gang!” Hayseed shouted.
His kin all looked towards him.
“I ain’t been… I ain’t been right for three years. That Filthy’s Barnyard Bargains don’t belong on my land, do it?”
They all shook their heads.
“That was my turnip farm! It had been in my family for ages! And they just took it from me with some eminate domain whatsit… he stole it! Plain and simple!”
“Yeah!” his clan shouted.
“And their predatory pricin’ has put dozens of mom n’ pop places out of business!” Cousin Jaysee said.
“Well what the heck are we doin’ sittin’ around here listenin’ to the radio fer?” Uncle Verl shouted. “Let’s go take it back, just like them Encampers took back their square!”
Everypony cheered and hollered.
The dozens of Turniptruck family members rushed out of the shack, going into the barn outside and retrieving torches, lanterns, and pitchforks. They rushed out into the road, running into the city of Hollow Shades proper.
“We’re havin’... a good ol’... fashioned Barn razing!” Uncle Verl shouted, panting and struggling to keep up with the running crowd.
“Everypony to the Barnyard Bargains! Everypony to the Barnyard Bargains!” shouted Jaysee at the top of her lungs.
Ponies clamored out of cajun restaurants, piled out of apartments, and thronged out of movie theaters to join the large, angry crowd. The town’s minority of pegasi and unicorns soared through the sky and teleported along the streets, and the ground of the small city shook with the earth pony rage. After crossing through the town center, they continued on the road to the outskirts, where Turniptruck’s farm once stood, and where Rich’s Barnyard Bargains had now taken its place.
As Filthy Rich had predicted, it was quite a busy store in the impoverished city, but that didn’t stop the crowds from gathering around it with torches and pitchforks.
The greeter, an elderly earth pony with a blue vest, said, “Hi, welcome to Rich’s Barnyard Bargaaaaah!” screaming in shock at the crowd armed with torches and pitchforks.
Opportunistic looters ran ahead of the angry mob and zipped through the doors, shoving through confused shoppers trying to flee. They ripped radios from the racks, plucked produce from the produce bins, and stole stuff from every section of the store.
An announcement came over the intercom, “Cleanup on aisle five! Aisle six! Aisle seven… just clean up the whole damn store already! Everypony get out of here!”
A cardboard sign which proclaimed “Barn Busting Deals!” was punched through by an angry mare as she grabbed a giant six pack of paper towels from a shelf. She ran back out through the door and held up her prize above her head like a gold-winning athlete. A journalist snapped a picture.
“I’m cleanin’ up some spiiiiilllls tonight!” she shouted, her wide buck-toothed smile glinting from the camera flash.
The looters rushed out with their loot, smiling and hollering, as employees and regular shoppers clamored out the door, trying to blend in with the looters, lest the angry mob attack them for supporting Rich’s Barnyard Bargains.
By now, the ponies armed with torches and pitchforks had arrived. They threw giant kegs of beer and bottles through the windows and doors of the store, and threw torches to ignite them.
“Alright gang, let’s sing it, you all know the words!” Jaysee proclaimed.
“Yeeeeehaw!” Hayseed Turniptruck called out.
The crowd sang,
“Raze this Barn, raze this Barn, One, two, three, four Together we can raze this Barn, One, two, three, four.
Pour the gas, start the blaze Watch as it goes up in flames Don’t kill or harm the ones inside We only want the Barn alight.”
Ponies in the crowd doused the storefront in gasoline, drenching the wooden and brick sides as they threw torches and cigarette butts onto it. The last of the panicked employees and shoppers escaped through the front doors, loading bay, and fire exits as flames now lapped at every corner of the building.
“Raze this barn, oh, raze this barn One, two, three, four Together, we can raze this barn One, two, three, four
Watch as smoke fills up the air Take away our every care Fuel the flames and watch it burn Filthy hopes his store’s insured.”
The roof had collapsed in on the inferno as ponies posed for pictures outside. Once the fire reached the home and auto section, it was all over: tires, oil, dry lumber, and other flammable parts ignited. A small explosion burst through the corner, though nopony was there to get hurt. A mare with a fiddle skipped around, shredding on it for an hour as ponies danced do-si-do’s. A few of the fillies and colts even roasted marshmallows close to the blaze.
The fire department arrived, but they merely stood by, not wanting the angry crowd to target them. An hour later, the store was reduced to a blackened, charred heap on the ground. The crowd sang one last refrain of their song in celebration.
“Raze this barn, raze this barn, Yes, we did Together we sure razed this barn Yes, we did.
Hayseed’s family owns this land. It’s theirs, now Filthy understands: Hollow Shades don’t want his store He’ll never come back anymore.”
Baltimare
On the west side of the port city of Baltimare, there stood several abandoned warehouses, apartment complexes, and other buildings. Even before the recession, this area of town had been depressed and run down, but now, more buildings stood empty than ever before.
But one large abandoned factory warehouse brimmed with ponies, donkeys, cattle, sheep, and all sorts of hoofed creatures walking in and out, carrying sacks, carts, and other items along with them through the giant bay doors.
Inside the huge warehouse, makeshift shacks made of empty wooden crates stood in two rows, alongside either wall. Tarps were draped over gaps in the crates to form the doorways, and people walked in and out of them. Hundreds of such crate huts filled the massive warehouse.
Jolly Doodle Donkey trudged along, pulling a cart full of potatoes behind him, the wooden cart creaking just like his aging back. His once-acerbic, cranky demeanor had left him. He had a grin on his face and as jovial of a skip in his step as a donkey could be expected to have at age seventy.
The giant announcement board stood on the far end of the warehouse. Once reserved for shipping and arrival information, it now served a different purpose.
“Tonight’s Dinner: Fried Potato Friday”
Of course, he figured. It was such a clever pun; why wouldn’t there be fried potatoes every friday? It hadn’t been any different for the last two years, after all. He brought his load into the center of the warehouse, where the salty-smelling potatoes were sizzling above a fire. Hundreds of grinning people waited patiently in a line, while a lone donkey wearing a white apron and a chef’s hat fried up the potatoes.
Matilda... Jolly caught himself thinking, but then stopped. The donkey wasn’t Matilda, of course. She was gone. It would be nice after the coat dyeing, he thought. Solid white would be far from the brown coat of his former wife. No reminders left.
A mare’s voice came over the intercom.
“Attention, Jolly Doodle. Please report to the processing department.”
Jolly’s long, droopy ears shot up. He left the potato cart with the cook, racing over to the opposite side of the warehouse towards a small, attached office. He knocked on the door.
“Come in, Jolly.”
Jolly entered the office and sat in a chair before the supervisor. A newspaper on her desk showed pictures of unrest in Manehattan and Hollow Shades.
“Good afternoon, Jolly,” said the supervisor.
“Afternoon.”
“You’ve been out into the city during your expedition today, yes?”
He merely nodded. He was a donkey of few words.
“So is it true? Has the Encampment spread to Baltimare?”
Jolly spoke in short, gruff sentences. “Yes. There’s lots of tents near the docks. Makeshift homes, like ours in the warehouse.”
“So from what you’ve seen, are they all homeless, or just protesting?”
Jolly shrugged. “A mix of both, I guess.”
The supervisor nodded. “Regardless, they all want a better life. They want an egalitarian Equestria without oligarchs, with true equality. I welcome it, but they can’t make these huge changes by themselves. They need our magic so that everypony...er, everybody... can truly realize their dreams.”
Jolly glanced down at his flank. His gorgeous flank displayed what donkeys normally could never receive: a cutie mark. For his entire life until a few years ago, the former Cranky Doodle Donkey had been rather aimless, whether in his love life, home, or career. He’d switched jobs and moved from town to town. Marrying his sweetheart Matilda had only temporarily parted the clouds of his lifelong depression, as she’d left him after a severe argument.
But then, after moving once again to Baltimare, he had been given a cutie mark. He discovered his special talent: to be just as useful, just as wanted, and just as vital to the community as the ponies were, to have them love and respect him just like a pony.
Everywhere else in Equestria, ponies and zebras looked down on donkeys, sheep, and cattle for not having magic or cutie marks. They were called common farm animals or ‘farmies’ and treated as second-class citizens for that deemed disadvantage. Some donkeys were successful despite pony racism—usually entertainers like like Bray Z or Heehaw Fanque—but most farm animals could only find ‘jobs’ on farms. They often received no pay other than grassland to graze and a roof over their heads, where they were never seen as equals to the ponies who ran them. This sharecropping wasn’t technically slavery since that was illegal, and sharecropping was voluntary, but in Jolly’s eyes it might as well have been slavery. The only jobs for cows and sheep were to be milked for milk, or sheared for wool. “Know your place,” they were always told.
To some farm animals, it was the easy life, and they enjoyed not having any responsibilities. Donkeys and bulls had it far rougher than sheep and cows, since they had to do manual labor with their muscles; they couldn’t just stand around letting their follicles or mammaries do the work. Jolly had always despised the farm life, and he had always wanted something more: a real job, a professional career. But ponies’ prejudice had always stood in his way, and he was never hired for more than menial jobs like dishwasher or delivery pony. If he were to apply for an office job, for instance, he’d be going up against ponies who had cutie marks to prove they were good file clerks or secretaries. What manager would hire a markless donkey with no experience and no magic?
In the Warehouse of Baltimare, though, he had been accepted and given a job like everyone else. He was now a trader: bartering in Baltimare for crops that the Warehouse didn’t yet grow on its own. Never in his life had he ever been so happy, and like all the others, he had changed his name after being reborn from the magic spell to grant him a cutie mark. Like the fairytale wooden puppet, he had become a real boy. He smiled as he glanced at his cutie mark, the exact same as the five hundred other Warehouse residents of all different species: a black equals sign.
The supervisor smiled and asked, “Jolly, will you do me a favor? Tomorrow, go to the Baltimare Encampment and tell them about us, about our mission. Tell unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies… but most of all, tell your fellow donkeys what we have to offer here. Our government can save them from the ponies’ bondage of bigotry, from nature’s bondage of having no cutie mark, and give them what they deserve.”
Jolly hee-hawed, a wide smile on his face. “Yes, Starlight Glimmer.”
A copy of the Mareicopa Monitor floated in Pumpkin Cake’s magic. The giant headline screamed, “UNREST ROCKS EQUESTRIA,” and the front page picture showed Rich’s Barnyard Bargains ablaze in Hollow Shades. The articles told of protests and riots in Manehattan, Hollow Shades, Baltimare, and elsewhere. Nopony had been killed so far, though dozens of police and activists had been injured, some seriously.
Pumpkin sighed. Equestria was going downhill. She had thought that ponies would settle down after the end of the Great Racial War, as historians now called the conflict between Equestria and the Second Kingdom alliance. However, their anger had boiled over. Though Pumpkin had always sympathized with that small farmer in Hollow Shades whose land had been stolen, was it really constructive to burn down a store and put lives in danger?
Pumpkin agreed with a couple of the Encampment’s aims, like ending corruption and cronyism, but to her they mostly seemed like a bunch of lazy bums in a tent city. In her opinion, most of them didn’t want to work, but still wanted the government to give them handouts like ‘free’ homes and ‘free’ healthcare. Of course, none of it was actually free; it would be paid for entirely by hard-working ponies like her. In Manehattan, she’d heard some of them advocate for a ninety-nine percent top marginal income tax rate. Why should she even work if they’d just take everything she earned?
Of course, Pumpkin still carried the Alicorn Charm with her, and without it, she couldn’t do as good of a job. She was talented in magic by herself, but casting the intangibility spell thousands of times a day for hours on end would be impossible without assistance. Ponies like Pound Cake no doubt wanted her to ‘give back.’ But if she did have any obligation to Equestria, she thought, hadn’t she already met it?
She sighed as she stood out of her chair. Back to work. As she walked into the lobby of the Phase Healing clinic, shouts filled the air.
Outside the glass double doors, hundreds of angry ponies and donkeys held picket signs and shouted, “Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!”
About a dozen ponies armed with machine guns stood in the lobby, all members of the Mareicopa Militia. No patients were in the waiting room.
“Hello, Pumpkin Cake,” said Nurse Redheart, who stood along with Walkabout, Vinyl Scratch, and the militia. “I heard about a protest planned here for today, so I called in your guys to help secure the clinic. Hopefully these guns won’t be necessary. I haven’t seen protesters so angry since this building was an abortion clinic. We don’t want a repeat of Hollow Shades.”
“Don’t worry, PK; we won’t let them torch your clinic!” Militia Sergeant Vinyl Scratch proclaimed. Her stallions all nodded. Since much of the militia was composed of members of Club Copa, Pumpkin had appointed Vinyl to a commanding role.
Pumpkin smiled. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it. I hope there won’t be bloodshed, but it’s nice to know I have some support in this town.”
“You have heaps of support in this town,” said Walkabout. “Think of how many patients you’ve healed these last two years. Think of how we freed those hostages. These ponies outside are just a loud bunch of bogans.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Still, I think I should talk to them. They’re scaring away my patients. This is Phase Healing’s biggest branch, and we’re bleeding thousands of bits in lost revenue every minute that they’re outside.”
“Should we come outside with you? Walkabout and I work here, after all,” said Nurse Redheart.
Pumpkin shook her head. “No thanks. I think they’re only angry at me. But I appreciate it.”
“Stay safe, yo,” said Vinyl Scratch. “My guys will be right in here; just holler if the mob gets rowdy and we’ll come out.”
“And I’ll be within cooee, too, if you need me to zap any of ‘em away,” said Walkabout.
Pumpkin smiled. “Sounds like a plan. Wish me luck.”
Pumpkin teleported outside, hovering in the air with levitation above the crowd. They gazed up at her, and then they booed and hissed.
“Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!” they shouted.
“Come down here and face us!”
They held signs with pictures of a young earth colt on them, which said, “R.I.P. young Groundswell, age seven, died thanks to Pumpkin Cake’s greed and negligence.”
“Let her speak,” shouted a pony at the front of the crowd, who Pumpkin recognized as the father of the young child who’d eaten the rat poison. “Let’s hear her defend her cold heart.”
They all quieted down and glanced up at Pumpkin Cake.
“I’m sorry to hear about that young colt’s death,” she said.
“Liar! Do you even know his name? You left him to die!” the father shouted. The crowd booed at Pumpkin.
She frowned. “It’s not my job to save every single pony’s life. I do my best. I run a business that cures cancer and delivers babies. I do charity care on Fridays. I freed thousands of earth ponies and pegasi from a death camp right here in town. Yet you call me a ‘murderer?’ You should be calling me a lifesaver.”
“You don’t do enough!” shouted the father. “You need to save everypony in need of your spells, regardless of ability to pay.”
“I read in the Tall Grass Grazer that you secretly have the Alicorn Amulet,” said a teenage stallion. “You’re an evil sorceress! Use your magic for good.”
“Work for free, and don’t be greedy. Earn a small wage to subsist off of, and that’s it!” shouted a mare. Ponies clapped at her statement.
Pumpkin shouted, “If I had to work for free, I’d just quit working and lie around collecting handouts like all of you!”
“Then we’d pass a law! The Encampment will provide universal healthcare, and then you’ll have to save ponies for no charge. It’s your duty. They need your spell more than you need money!” the father shouted.
“Work for free! Work for free!” the hundreds of ponies shouted. One of them threw a bucket of red paint onto the clinic wall.
“This is the blood of dead ponies who couldn’t afford healthcare!”
As they shouted, images came flooding back to Pumpkin Cake’s mind. She recalled Trixie ripping her from her family in the Sugarcube Corner cellar, taking her to Sweet Apple Acres and forcing her to work for the unicorns, since it was her ‘racial duty’ to be an unpaid farmer. She recalled Trixie keeping her locked up for months, subjecting her to horrible tests and research, again because of her ‘duty’ to the unicorns. And now, all of these ponies outside of her clinic, speaking of her ‘duty’ to the poor, were demanding the same of Pumpkin that Trixie had: abject slavery.
If these ponies had the power, they’d force her to endlessly cast spells on every single patient who would die otherwise, which was millions of people the world over… so she could never rest, in their eyes. Every second of joy, relaxation, or free time that she kept for herself was another dead body they’d blame on her. After all, if they could justify making her work eight hours a day, why not ten? Why not twenty-four? Maybe they’d make her take drugs like cocaine or methamphetamine so that she’d never need to sleep. In their minds, or in Pound’s mind, nothing Pumpkin did could ever satisfy her obligation to society that she’d incurred merely by being born with a magical gift. It was a debt that could never be repaid. These ponies spoke of Pumpkin’s greediness? The true greediness resided in their own twisted morality of servitude which demanded limitless amounts from her.
She would never be enslaved again. Ultimately, she owed zero ‘obligation’ to anypony but herself: to enrich her own life. Anything else would only ever lead to her suffering, just as it had during the Racial Wars.
“You’re dismissed!” she angrily shouted. “Go back to Manehattan! You’re not welcome in Copa!”
“We live here! It’s our right to protest,” said the father. “We’re not leaving until you pledge to quit charging money for your services. We’re peaceful ponies!”
Another two ponies threw red paint towards Pumpkin, who turned intangible to avoid it, and it splattered all over her walls instead.
Pumpkin scowled. She believed in freedom of peaceful assembly as much as anypony, but these protesters were anything but peaceful. They wanted to destroy her livelihood. They took up the same mantle as the looters and arsonists. How long until throwing red paint no longer satisfied them, and they threw gasoline on her clinic and burned it down like Barnyard Bargains? What if those buckets were already mixed with gasoline? Come to think of it, she thought she might’ve smelled some. These protesters had to go before they did something dangerous.
The front of the clinic glowed a blood red, but not from the paint. The picket signs and buckets flew away from the storefront as the protesters clung to mailboxes, benches, and anything they could to stop from falling away from the Phase Healing clinic. Hundreds of earth ponies, donkeys, and unicorns flew through the air for about fifteen meters down the street in all directions, swept away by a gravitational tsunami. They screamed in terror, ‘falling’ until the anti-gravity of the clinic was too far away to affect them anymore, and the true gravity of the earth pulled them back down. Since they were already so close to the street when Pumpkin had cast the gravity spell, they only fell a short distance, so nopony was injured.
Dozens of pegasi still hovered in the air, unaffected, along with a few unicorns who self-levitated. That was, until Pumpkin turned off the spell. Walkabout came out of the clinic, and zapped some of the stragglers down the street. Vinyl Scratch and the Mareicopa Militia members burst through with rifles slung over their backs. At the sight of the guns, the remaining protesters fled.
“And stay away! We don’t wanna use these!” Vinyl Scratch shouted.
The militiaponies smiled as they congratulated each other on a job well done.
Nurse Redheart walked outside. “Time to go back to work, Pumpkin Cake?”
Pumpkin returned to the sidewalk. “As soon as all my patients come back. They were probably scared away by the protest, but I have a monopoly on intangibility. They’ll be back soon.”
Redheart shrugged. “Hopefully. I just pray that our business doesn’t suffer from this bad publicity over that dead child, and now from you shooing away picketers with an anti-gravity spell.”
Pumpkin responded, “Like you said, better safe than sorry. It was that or risk my clinic being burned down. Those ponies should realize that if I did what they wanted, if I only helped others for free, I’d basically be like the farm animal sharecroppers that they always cry about. I’d never own the fruits of my own labor. I thought they were against all that, but they’re just a rowdy mob of hypocrites like their friends in Manehattan.”
“A rowdy mob, huh?” asked Vinyl Scratch, grinning. “I have major experience with mobs, from running raves all the time. I’m good with hyping up crowds, getting them to listen to me. What if me and some of my ravers went to Manehattan to try to talk some sense into the Encampment? I mean, like, we wouldn’t bring our guns or anything; just our voices.”
“I would be willing to travel to Manehattan as well,” said Professor Fossil, who had just arrived on the sidewalk. “Somepony a little wiser and with more experience, like myself, should try to persuade these hot-blooded youngsters like your brother at the Encampment. I know some like-minded students at the university who could also make themselves heard.”
Pumpkin nodded. “That’s a good idea. I think we all have some goals in common, like ending corruption and stopping cronyism. And if we had no more princesses, I wouldn’t be upset. It’s mostly the welfare nanny state that the Encampment and us disagree on. Try to talk them out of it.”
Vinyl Scratch and Professor Fossil nodded.
Starswirl Peak
At the foot of the new Starswirl Mine sat the large mining town of Wolford. Wooden shacks had sprouted up from the valley like mushrooms after the rain, hastily constructed: several nails still stuck out of planks. The muddy streets were covered in dog paw prints. As the sun set on the Northwest, ending a long workday, Diamond Dogs stopped at taverns to drink and at brothels to satisfy other needs. As a nomadic people, the Diamond Dogs traveled to wherever the gems were, building boomtowns until they went bust. The newest was Wolford, and all ten thousand of Equestria’s diamond dogs now lived here.
Alpha Rover sat inside of a shack near the outskirts of town, slightly up the mountain slope. From here, he could help to administer the town below, and the mines above. Mounds of paperwork sat on his desk: building permits, maps of newly-discovered veins, another letter from Emperor Zaporizhia demanding the Diamond Dogs’ monthly twenty percent tribute payment. Rover shook his head and put his paws up on his desk. Maybe he could just claim that one of his colleagues had eaten his paperwork, so he could get out of doing it.
In the two years since Equestria had surrendered Starswirl Mountain to the Diamond Dogs, Rover’s mining business had been booming. The Magical Mining Mares had only extracted a fraction of the vast wealth within the mountain, and there were still an estimated 10,000 carats worth of gems inside.
The lights in the shack flickered and dimmed. Rover sighed. “Not again!” he exclaimed.
He glanced off towards the southeast, where the Coltumbia river flowed out into the western ocean. The giant Coltumbia river dam stood high in the mountains, producing hydroelectric power for Tall Grass and Savanna. Well, allegedly. In the last two years, many of the technicians and engineers had fled to Equestria. Zaporizhia had tried bringing in engineers from Zebrica, but they were incompetent. Zebrica had few rivers of its own; almost all of its power plants were coal-fired. There was a steep learning curve, and in the meantime, many of the components had become worn out and needed replacing. The dam now only provided power about half of the time, and rolling brownouts were imposed.
Rover sighed, stood up, and walked over to open a cabinet. Inside was a candle and a set of matches. He fiddled around with his paws, trying to grasp the small match between his toes until he got it just right. He held the matchbox in his other paw, and attempted to strike them together. A small sliver of smoke rose from the match, a brief spark lighting on the end, but then it flickered out before he could bring it to the candle. The smell of phosphorus and failure filled the air.
“Why we pay twenty percent tribute if power go out all the time? Why we pay if it rain so much?” he demanded, shouting to nodoggy in particular.
At least he hadn’t dropped the match. He’d almost burned the floorboards a few times. But at least the soggy, rainy wood wouldn’t easily spread the fire. The weather had always been drizzly in the Northwest, but after the last of the pegasi weather teams had fled to Equestria, it had been raining so much that Rover thought that somebody had turned on a sprinkler full blast. The smell of wet dog in Wolford was nearly unbearable, and the riverbank of the Coltumbia had swelled.
He pulled out another match, finessing it in between his toes once again. Then, he finally struck the match, a flame flickering. The remaining bulbs in his cabin went out. A loud rumbling filled the air, and the ground shook, causing him to drop the lit match before he could bring it to the candle.
“Damn it!” he shouted. He sighed and retrieved a mining helmet from the cabinet. He didn’t like using them, since the bulbs were expensive, but it was better than darkness.
The door creaked as he walked outside to investigate. As spotty as the power was in Tall Grass and Wolford, full blackouts were rare. But sure enough, the lights in Wolford were now entirely out with the exception of lanterns, mining helmets, candles, and the crescent moon above. Off in the distance, the normal orange glow in the sky from Tall Tale’s lights was entirely absent. The dogs started howling at the moon out of both instinct and frustration. Rover sighed. He supposed that he should go down into the village and try to calm his people.
He walked down the mountain trail, damp pine needles mushing beneath his feet, the smell of wood smoke from newly-lit campfires filling the air. Crickets chirped and owls hooted. Two miles stood between the mining administration shack and Wolford.
As he walked, the sound of rushing water filled the air, droning out the crickets. Rover thought it was odd. As a dog, his hearing was superb, but as a miner who’d worked with explosives for years, his hearing was damaged, and it evened out to where he had hearing like a pony’s. From the trail, he normally could never hear the river. But now, it grew louder and louder.
He rounded another trailbend as the howling grew louder still. Some of the candles and campfires in Wolford went out. Rover’s ears perked up as he wondered what was happening. He got down on all fours and left the trail, jumping over logs and ducking under branches in the woods, taking a shortcut.
As Rover bounded down another hill, now just fifty meters from the entrance to Wolford, he suddenly found himself splashing into rushing, frigid water. He could normally swim just fine, but the current carried him away until he grabbed a tree trunk. He hugged it tight enough to make Fluttershy proud, and lifted himself out of the water and back onto the dry hillside. When he looked back at Wolford, he gasped.
Water rushed through the streets of town, knocking over buildings. Frantic dogs stood on roofs, howling at the moon, howling out for somedoggy to come save them. But no dog could. Most of them could swim, but the current was so rapid that it swept them away. One large greyhound yelped as a wave slammed him against the side of a busted building, impaling him on a broken beam.
“Run! Jump! Swim! Seek higher groundsies!” Alpha Rover commanded. His shouting was drowned out by the deluge in the town. Rover soon had to seek higher ground himself, as even the hillside he stood on was consumed by the rising tide. He rushed all the way up the mountain, above the administration shack and the mine entrances, which now also flooded.
Finally, the water level receded, and Rover walked back down, careful to keep his distance in case another deluge was forthcoming. He spent the rest of the evening too wired up to sleep, merely waiting for the water level to fall enough to where he could survey the mines and Wolford.
Early the next morning, as the sun peeked out from behind Starswirl Peak, Rover surveyed the mines. The tunnels and shafts were full of water. The support beams had collapsed. The Coltombia river dam had fared no better, as a giant hole now stood in its concrete side, and water poured out along the river’s route, now ten meters above its usual bank.
The entire southern half of Wolford was underwater, now at the new water level of the Coltombia river. In the rest of town where the water had receded, no buildings remained: just thousands of planks and dead bodies scattered about. Miners, workers, husbands, wives, sons, daughters. Dogs he knew and loved: all dead.
A small pack of sopping wet and soaking dogs, mostly women and children, stood in the center of town, crying, howling, and sobbing, trying to find the bodies of their loved ones, rummaging through whatever pitiful scraps remained of their belongings.
He approached a dachshund mother and her small pup. “Where every doggy?” he asked her.
The mother sobbed. “It’s just us.”
In a fit of rage, Rover stood on his hind legs and howled. He cursed the careless Zaporizhia, he cursed himself, and he cursed nature which had taken his people from him. Without his pack, he was now the alpha of nothing, the top dog of a worthless pile of rubble.
Manehattan: July 2028
Pound Cake hovered above Parliamentary Square, surveying the Encampment with a pair of binoculars. Bulky Biceps hovered next to him.
Tens of thousands of people now stood in the square. It was so packed, that pegasi had to hover just to make room for non-flighted participants. Protests had spilled out into the surrounding streets, where thousands more marched daily to the financial district for anti-banker rallies. The Encampment was Equestria’s largest-ever popular movement, growing everyday.
Not just ponies participated. Many donkeys, cattle, and sheep from farms in upstate Neigh York and Whinnsylvania had come to demand the passage of antidiscrimination laws. Given the Encampment’s egalitarian focus, the EFA welcomed the sharecroppers. After all, the top earners in Equestria weren’t just greedy, they were also speciesist. The oligarchs were almost exclusively ponies like Filthy Rich or the Oranges. In Pound’s mind, they’d gotten to the top by stepping on the poor and the farm animals who they employed as wage slaves.
On the edge of the square, lines of riot police stood, separated from the protesters by both metal police barricades and makeshift protester barricades. The Encampment had piled old tires, dressers, and mattresses in between the street and the square, to block the police from coming onto the square. Every few days, clashes erupted between police and protesters, but the Encampment managed to hold on every time.
Over the last few weeks, hundreds of protesters had been arrested, most of them released without charges. Hoops and Dumbbell had been detained three times each. Even Bon Bon and Lyra had spent a night in a lockup for ‘performing concerts without permits.’ Though the demonstrations had remained largely peaceful, police and protesters had been injured from scuffles.
The prior week, the Encampment had its first death: an elderly protester had suffered a heart attack after being tear gassed. Shortly thereafter, a local trial judge who had sentenced ten convicted rioters to five years in jail was found shot to death. The murder remained unsolved, but the EFA insisted that it was unrelated to the Encampment. That judge had been tough on organized crime, and had recently given life sentences to some gangsters in the Manehattan Mafia. Pound believed it was a typical mobster hit job. The Encampment had even held a small candlelight vigil for the murdered judge.
Despite the occasional brawls, all of which Pound believed were police-instigated, the EFA had tried to keep the Encampment peaceful. Alcohol and drugs were banned on the square under local laws, and even though the police could hardly enforce it, the EFA policed themselves. They didn’t want the nation perceiving them as a drunken rabble. The EFA had also confiscated weapons from protesters: knives, brass hooves, slingshots, pellet and BB guns, and even a couple sawn-off shotguns. The armed protesters had claimed that they needed weapons for protection against police, but both Pound and Rainbow Dash knew that the second that somepony started shooting, Twilight Sparkle would send the national guard to break up the Encampment. Pound was honestly shocked that she hadn’t already. Maybe she feared a backlash.
Near the EFA tent stood a large makeshift stage. Atop it, one of Starlight Glimmer’s “cutie mark revivals” was underway. Pound Cake understood those who wished to be markless, but he’d rather keep his mark. He might have to do the sonic rainboom again someday. Hopefully, someday, peace would reign in Equestria and he could beat the sword of his jetwing cutie mark into the plowshare of an equals sign. But not yet; Starlight Glimmer was being a bit premature.
Almost all of the thousands of farm animals at the Encampment had received an equals sign mark as a statement against discrimination. However, only about two percent of the Encampment ponies had given up their cutie marks, though that figure was slowly growing. Most ponies that Pound talked to had no intention of doing so. Even he wasn’t so sure about his plowshare goal, because he really enjoyed flying, even in peacetime. Among Pound’s friends, only Hoops and Dumbbell had become markless.
Starlight Glimmer stood on the center stage, a chorus of farm animals and ponies behind her braying, bleating, and mooing in excitement. Onstage, a giant glass container stood, holding hundreds of cutie marks. Cutie marks could never be destroyed or permanently changed, but they could be separated from their owners indefinitely as long as they were kept sealed.
“Everypony, everydonkey, everycattle, are you ready to be Equals? Are you ready for your cutie mark--or lack thereof--to no longer define you?” called out Starlight Glimmer, a giant smile on her face. She motioned out with her hoof over the masses who had gathered.
“More than a mark!” the crowd responded.
Glimmer continued, racing from one side of the stage to another, “We are all one people, and we will only find true joy in our similarities, not our differences! Differences only divide and cause wars, whether it’s a difference in race, or species, or wealth. But we all have the same souls, the same drives, the same neurotransmitters in our brains. We all were born once, we all will die someday. Only together, when we join together in collectives, can we be at peace. Let us all achieve the one, same goal that all sentient creatures share: to be happy and fulfilled in life! We will make Equestria into a cutie markless, moneyless, stateless society. But we can only do so if our flanks are all identical!”
“Make us the same!” the crowd responded.
“Who is my first volunteer?” asked Starlight Glimmer.
A muscular, cinnamon earth stallion climbed onstage. His cutie mark was a picture of a plow.
“Tell me your name, good sir.”
“Name’s Plowpusher,” he said. “I used to plow fields in Manesas. I loved it so much, but… now I’m unemployed, thanks to the Second Duchy taking all those jobs with their mechanical tractors. What can I do? I can’t just change my cutie mark; once it’s there, it’s there for good!”
“Then step onto the Square of Sameness and be made whole again!” Starlight Glimmer proclaimed. She pointed to a blue-taped square on center stage, three by three meters. The stallion stepped in, and his cutie mark flew from his flank like a dead leaf blown from an autumn tree, swirling in the magical wind. It flew into the giant glass container of other marks, leaving behind an equals sign.
“Now your talent is the same as ours: to help our community be happy and whole!” Starlight Glimmer proclaimed, grinning as she pointed at the equal sign.
“He is equal!” the crowd responded. A giant smile erupted from Plowpusher’s face.
Pound Cake turned to Bulky Biceps. “It’s like he’s reborn. It’s awesome,” Pound said.
Biceps chuckled. “Awesome for him, if he wants to lose his muscle tone and be a wimp.”
Pound shrugged. He could see both sides of it.
Next up was a pegasus obstetrician from Mareicopa Medical who Pumpkin Cake had put out of a job with her foal farms. He was up to his ears in student loan debt, with no way to repay it. Starlight Glimmer promised that in the Warehouse society, there would be no debt, as money wouldn’t exist. The doctor’s cutie mark flew off of his flank. Pound wondered what Doctor Stable would say about a pony without a cutie mark in medicine practicing anyway. He would probably say that it was as dangerous as a foal farm.
Finally, there was a sixty-seven-year-old unicorn painter. She was tired of painting and wanted to do something else in her twilight years, but her cutie mark told her to keep painting. This was in spite of a severe case of horn arthritis that caused her pain whenever she used telekinesis for repetitive motions like brush strokes.
“Be free of your mark’s compulsion!” Starlight Glimmer shouted, as the old unicorn limped into the blue tape square. The mark flew off.
“Now you are free!” the crowd responded. The old mare fell to the floor, crying tears of joy. Pound wondered what Lyra and Bon Bon would have to say about an artist giving up her creativity.
“Artistic expression is like a sneeze: when it has to come out, there’s no stopping it,” he remembered Lyra saying.
Starlight Glimmer shouted. “You have seen these marks removed with your own eyes! Come, join the Warehouse and become an Equal; you need only step in the Square of Sameness. We now have a commune right here in town!”
Ponies clamored onstage, and the magic scrubbed their marks clean like rain erasing sidewalk chalk drawings. For blank-flank farm animals who entered the square, their flanks were consumed with white flashes, and they had marks for the first time in their lives. Cheers and shouts of ecstasy rose from all people onstage.
Vinyl Scratch and some raver friends, Professor Fossil and some students, and about two dozen elderly ponies from Mareicopa retirement homes all stood about thirty meters away from the stage. In all, the Mareicopa group numbered roughly three hundred.
For the first part of the day, they had marched around Manehattan with signs that read, “No freebies!” and “Work for a living!” This had gotten them jeered at.
“You used public roads to get here, didn’t you? That’s a freebie right there, hypocrites!”
“Some of us are disabled and can’t work; thank you very little!”
So, the Mareicopa group had switched tactics. Instead of going out with signs, they decided to talk to the Encampment ponies one-on-one and debate them.
“Having a good discussion is far better than shouting meaningless slogans, jeers, and insults. I encourage my students to do the former, not the latter,” Professor Fossil had noted.
So before and during the Cutie Mark Revival, the Mareicopans had been talking to ponies in Parliamentary Square.
Professor Fossil was talking to a group of three young communications graduates from Neigh York State University who were mired in student loan debt and couldn’t find jobs.
He said, “Though you believe in free college tuition, let’s stop to think. We just saw a young doctor give up his cutie mark on that very stage. Presumably he will stop paying his student loans and go live in a commune. Were college tuition state-funded, who would have to eat that cost?”
“The government,” said one of the students. Professor Fossil shook his head.
“Uh… the taxpayer,” said another. Professor Fossil grinned and nodded.
“Yes. Is that truly a wise thing to subsidize?” asked Professor Fossil. “The Encampment is for conserving our environment, yes? For renewable energy? Then why should we be spendthrifts and waste fiscal resources?”
“We shouldn’t, but that won’t happen very often. Most students will end up taking careers in whatever their degree is in. The state will get back its money in taxes from them. It’s an investment like a stock or bond, like a public road or bridge,” said the third student.
“Not to sound glib, but judging by your employment difficulties, is a communications major such a wise investment?” asked Professor Fossil.
“It will be, once Parliament passes laws to help us get to work,” said the first student.
Meanwhile, Vinyl Scratch was talking with an older earth mare, whose cutie mark had been replaced by an equals sign.
“So this Glimmer is trippin’,” said Scratch. “Her goal is a moneyless, stateless, markless society, right?”
The mare nodded.
“I want a stateless society too, yo. Having no government would be boss. But you can’t have a markless society and have a stateless society, too. It’s like tryin’ to rave and chill out at the same time,” said Vinyl.
The mare laughed. “Don’t be silly. Of course you can have both at once! Our Warehouse is already like that: both stateless and markless.”
Vinyl nodded, lighting a cigarette with her magic. “So, like, what happens if a pony in your commune wants to get his cutie mark back?”
The mare shook her head and smiled. “Oh, we’re all so happy with how we are; I don’t think that anypony would want to turn back! You should really join us.”
Scratch shook her head. “I like being a DJ. And you didn’t answer my question. Just assume for a sec that somepony is mental or whatever. Cray-cray. He wants his mark back even though it’s s’posed to be ‘so great’ not to have one. He walks up to that big glass bong thingy with a mallet to smash it and get his mark back. What would you do?”
The mare chuckled. “We’d stop him, of course!”
Vinyl paused for a moment to take a drag on her cigarette. She asked, “Who, like, specifically would stop him? What person?”
“Whoever was there.”
“What if the mad dude snuck in at night?”
“We’d assign a commune member to be a guard.”
Vinyl turned her head sideways. “Would the guard have a weapon?”
The mare nodded. “Of course, because what if this crazy pony tried to overpower him?”
Vinyl Scratch chuckled. “So what you’re telling me, is this guard would be just like a cop. Like a state.”
The mare shook her head. “Not at all. Anypony in the commune can be a guard who wants to. It’s not the same thing as the police.”
“If it wubs like the bass and it thumps like the bass, then it’s the bass. If it enforces like the fuzz and has weapons like the fuzz, then it’s the fuzz,” said Vinyl Scratch.
“And you broke up that protest in Mareicopa with gravity spells and guns!” a young stallion, who was passing by, accused. “We heard about that, DJ Pon3. I used to like your music because I thought you were cool, and a champion of free speech, taking a stand against draconian copyright laws. But some champion of free speech you are, stopping a peaceful protest.”
Vinyl shrugged. “The gravity spell wasn’t me. Ask Pumpkin Cake about that. PK was having like, a panic attack or something. I didn’t support her action; I wanted to let those protesters stay as long as they were still peaceful. As for the guns, I didn’t ‘break up’ anything with a gun. Me and my buddies just walked on the sidewalk, carrying guns. Mareicopa is an open carry city. We didn’t point at the protest or shoot ‘em or anything, but those dudes all ran. If a pony wants to run just from seeing a gun slung over my back, they’re trippin’ on shrooms or LSD or something.”
“I actually agree with guns,” said the markless mare. “They’re the great force equalizer between the proletariat and the bourgeois. A rich mare with a gun and a poor mare with a gun are a lot more equal than if each just had their money and no guns.”
The three ponies continued their debate until a disturbance broke out behind them. A middle-aged pegasus mare with an equal sign cutie mark was arguing with her young daughter, aged no more than ten, grabbing her by the scruff of her neck.
“Come on, Strikey. I said, come on! I won’t ask you again, young lady. This is just like when you got your measles vaccine; it’s to protect you from a disease. It’ll only hurt a second and then it’ll all be over,” the mother urged, trying to get control over her child.
“Mommy, I don’t want my cutie mark taken! I just got it last week!” the young white-coated earth filly with a red mane whined. She glanced with nervousness at her cutie mark, a picture of a baseball that matched her coloring, as she flailed around with her hooves.
“And the mark is wrong,” said the mother. “You’ll never be a pro, Strikey. It’s a one-in-a-million chance. Hitting a homerun in little league proves nothing except that cutie mark magic is a curse, the joke of ponykind. How can a pony know at age six what she’ll do for the rest of her life? I didn’t know until I was in college, and you already have that mark? Don’t make me laugh. Even if you do get into the majors, then you’ll be an overpaid sports star while everypony else starves in the streets. You’re not better than anypony else, little lady. That cutie mark needs to go.”
Vinyl Scratch turned around, her eyes narrowed. “Yo, you’re taking your daughter’s cutie mark away from her? That’s way past uncool. You can’t tell her what to do with her life!”
“Be quiet,” the mother snapped. “This is none of your business. She and I will live in the commune together, markless. Or would you rather her be motherless instead?”
“I’d rather you not abuse your own daughter!” Vinyl Scratch shouted. Her horn illuminated and she ripped the filly from her mother’s mouth, placing her atop her own back. Strikey wrapped herself in Vinyl’s neon blue mane, trying in vain to conceal herself from her mother.
“Kidnapper! Kidnapper!” the mother screamed.
“CHILD ABUSER! You can’t take a little filly’s cutie mark! I WON’T LET YOU!” Vinyl Scratch called back, her horn illuminated as her sound-projection magic amplified her voice.
After hearing her, dozens of Vinyl’s ravers cheered and hollered, pumping their hooves in the air.
“You go, DJ Pon3!”
“Show that evil mom!”
Brawls and scuffles in the crowd broke out. Some of the Equals pushed and shoved the ravers. But the ravers, who’d snuck alcohol onto the square, smashed beer bottles in half, attacking back against the crowds.
The mother lunged at Vinyl Scratch, but in a flash of light, she teleported away, taking Strikey.
Pound Cake shook his head, watching the melee. As the night fell, ravers and the Equals duked it out all through Parliamentary Square. Starlight Glimmer grabbed the microphone and appealed for calm, but the shouting, screaming, and sounds of breaking glass drowned out her words. On the perimeter, the police slowly advanced past their own metal barricades, towards the makeshift tire and furniture barricades of the Encampment.
“Such violence is unacceptable. The Encampment will be disbanded,” Sergeant Cuffs called out over a police megaphone. “You will all leave Parliamentary Square immediately or be subject to arrest. This is your final warning! Resistance will not be tolerated!”
“This square belongs to the people, and we patrol it ourselves!” Starlight Glimmer shouted over her microphone. “Equals, detain the Mareicopa agitators! Any police officers who dare set hoof on Parliamentary Square will lose their cutie marks!”
Pound Cake jolted. Starlight Glimmer was going to start taking cutie marks from ponies against their will? Wasn’t that a bit extreme? Even the police should be able to make that decision for themselves, Pound thought. But perhaps she was just making an empty threat so that they wouldn’t break up the Encampment. Either way, he and Rainbow Dash would have to talk with Starlight Glimmer over what sorts of tactics were acceptable to use against the police.
Equals started detaining the ravers from Mareicopa, wrenching broken beer bottles from their hooves and tying them up with tent cords. Some of the unicorn ravers teleported away, while the pegasi flew into the air. The police heeded Starlight Glimmer’s warning, and didn’t advance past the tire barricades. Instead, they loaded tear gas canisters.
“FIRE!” shouted Sergeant Cuffs.
Pound’s eyes widened. Tear gas was flammable. And with all of these tents...
Half a dozen canisters flew into the square, releasing their white, noxious fumes. Ponies coughed and wheezed all over. One canister landed right next to a tent, bursting open in a shower of sparks. The tent caught fire. EFA pegasi rushed over, dumping buckets of water, as Rainbow Dash flew off into the sky to retrieve a raincloud. A young stallion ran out of the tent screaming, his fur ablaze.
“Fight fire with fire!” Starlight Glimmer shouted.
Dozens of the Equals, who wore gas masks, grabbed empty soda and beer bottles, filling them with propane from the barbeque grills and portable generators around the square. They tore up rags and placed them inside, igniting the tips. They lunged dozens of molotov cocktails at the police, scoring direct hits on several. Officers put up their riot shields to protect themselves. One wasn’t so lucky, and rolled on the ground, trying to put out the fire which was consuming his uniform.
The battle continued for an hour, as the police fired tear gas, bean bags, and rubber bullets into the crowd, who responded with molotovs, rocks, and sticks. Pegasi flew around, trying to quench the flames that had consumed more Encampment tents.
Dozens of rioters rushed onto the streets to confront the police. Unicorn officers turned half a dozen of them into frogs. The others dispersed. A line of eight bulldozers lumbered down Celestial Avenue, marked with Manehattan PD insignia. They honked loudly, smoke billowing from their stacks, flanked by officers who stood atop them and hung from the sides. When they were twenty meters away from the Square, a single earth stallion stood in front of the lead bulldozer, wearing an EFA shirt. When officers tried to approach him, he swung at them with the wooden end of his picket sign, which he had sharpened to a point.
“You won’t demolish the Encampment! I won’t let you!”
A police unicorn turned him into a frog. The officers all got back on the bulldozer, but he wouldn’t hop out of the way. Either he refused, or didn’t yet realize he was temporarily a frog and had to hop instead of walk, but the driver couldn’t see him. His green body was crushed under the treads. The Encampment booed and hissed at the bulldozers. A volley of ten molotovs flew from the square and from pegasi towards the lead bulldozer, setting it alight as the police jumped from the sides, their bodies ablaze. The crowd cheered as the dozer’s fuel tank exploded and it burst into a fireball.
Inside the Manehattan public library, a few blocks away from the Encampment and the riots, sleeping bags were sprawled out in the aisles. Hundreds of books covered the floor, and were out of order on the shelves. The water fountains were covered in green mold and mildew. Banana peels, apple cores, and soda cans spilled out of trash cans onto the floor. The library had been in use by the Encampment for about a month, ever since Parliamentary Square had run out of room for tents. The librarians, janitors, and other staff had long left the library, leaving only the homeless and the live-in Encampment inside.
On the top floor, there stood a large book club meeting room, with the tables and chairs cleared out. Vinyl Scratch, Professor Fossil, and a dozen of the Mareicopa crowd stood on one end of the room, while Starlight Glimmer, Hoops, Dumbbell, and a dozen of the Equals crowd stood on the other.
Behind the Equals group stood twenty ravers, all beaten and bloodied, their hooves, wings, and horns bound. Their flanks all bore equals signs. Behind the Mareicopa group stood young Strikey, the baseball still adorning her flank. She sat, sobbing quietly.
“One for twenty is more than fair. Give me back my daughter,” said Strikey’s mom, who stood next to Starlight Glimmer.
“Yes, give us Strikey, and we’ll give back the ravers and the cutie marks,” said Starlight Glimmer.
“I don’t see any cutie marks with you,” Vinyl Scratch scoffed. “Where are they?”
Starlight Glimmer held up a hoof. “They’re hidden in this library, between the pages of some of the books on the shelves. Once I’ve removed young Strikey’s cutie mark, I’ll tell you where to find those books. Open them, and the cutie marks will fly back onto the raver’s flanks.”
A neon-green maned, black coated raver named Wubby objected, “We had fifty Club Copa regulars here. I know them all by name; it was my job to keep track of everypony on our bus.”
Wubby held up his wing, counting the ravers off on his feathers. “There’s seven of us standing here with Vinyl, and twenty tied up cutie-markless with you. Two were killed in the fights, three are in the hospital, and the cops arrested five. Where are the other thirteen?”
Starlight Glimmer smiled. “Ten of them remained on the square, where they’re helping us fight off the police. Though they hated having their marks removed, they hate police brutality even more, and formed a temporary alliance with us after the bulldozers came. Your ravers are actually quite good brawlers; I’ll give them that. Go outside, and when you open the books, their marks will still fly all the way back to them, no matter how far away they are.”
Professor Fossil chuckled. “That does rather sound like some of the ravers. I suppose that story is plausible.”
Vinyl Scratch nodded in agreement. “They love the mosh pits. But there were thirteen that Wubby mentioned. How ‘bout the last three?”
Glimmer explained, “Thumping Beats, Zippy Tune, and Subwoofer decided that they liked being cutie markless so much, they’d come live in one of the Warehouses. They were each in their thirties or later, and were tired of a special talent telling them to take drugs and party every night instead of settling down, having a family, and contributing to the community. With the marks no longer plaguing their flanks and blinding their brains, they finally realized how empty their lives in Mareicopa had really been.”
“I don’t believe you, yo; those guys were dedicated partiers. There’s nothing wrong with havin’ fun every night,” said Vinyl Scratch, sparking up a cigarette.
“You can’t smoke in here! Not in front of my kid; that’s child abuse,” Strikey’s mom protested, throwing her hooves in the air.
“Yeah, well you were going to take her cutie mark away, so you’re one to talk,” said Vinyl Scratch, condescendingly blowing smoke into the air.
“And kidnapping a child is a felony, DJ!” Hoops shouted. Dumbbell nodded.
“I’m sure that if it were a more common spell, taking a pony’s cutie mark against their will would also be illegal, akin to aggravated battery or rape,” said Professor Fossil.
“It’s worse than rape!” Vinyl Scratch shouted, scowling as smoke poured from her nose. “You’ve taken away their entire reason for being alive! And this whole stupid trade of yours is sketch as hell. I give you Strikey, and then you take her cutie mark, and only after you’ve destiny-molested her do you tell me where these books are with my buddies’ marks? How do I know that you aren’t lying?”
“It is suspicious, indeed,” said Professor Fossil. “I am a time traveller, so what if I cause a self-sustaining time loop? If we accept the deal, and it works out, then I will travel back to this exact spot five minutes from now, and tell us to accept the deal. If not, and there is no future Fossil here, we will know not to take the deal.”
Everypony nodded, except Hoops and Dumbbell.
“Wait, I’m confused…” Hoops started. “You won’t take this deal unless you from the future tells yourself to take the deal?”
Fossil nodded.
“But then, I mean, how would you know to take the deal in the future, unless you took the deal first without telling your past self to take it?” asked Hoops.
Starlight Glimmer said, “That is rather confusing, come to think of it. I haven’t studied them extensively, but from my understanding, time spells can’t alter past events from what we already know them to be.”
“Yeah, now even I’m confused, and I’ve seen him use the spell before,” said Vinyl Scratch, scratching her head.
“It’s true that time spells can’t alter past events,” said Professor Fossil. “But past events can be self-caused.”
“How do you know?” asked Dumbbell.
“From experience. I’ve bet on quite a few Chupacabra games using tips that I’ve gotten from my future self. Then, once I have the money, I go back and tell my past self that the bet was successful so that I’ll make it in the first place,” said Professor Fossil.
The ponies on Starlight Glimmer’s side of the room all reeled.
“That’s cheating! You’re taking money from ponies who bet you!” shouted Hoops.
“FRAUDSTER!” shouted Dumbbell.
Fossil shrugged. “I’ve merely provided the second half of a willing transaction. Were I not to, the pony who made the losing bet with me would still make that losing bet, but with somepony else. I trained for years to learn this time spell. Why not enrich my own life?”
The two sides had an intense debate over the ethics of time spells for the next five minutes, at which point Vinyl Scratch glanced at the clock.
“Alright, the deal’s off; it’s been five minutes and no future Fossil,” she said.
Starlight Glimmer sighed, her head hung low. “I was afraid that you’d say that. I’ll have you know that I fully intended to honor our agreement, as ‘fraudulent’ as it seemed. I’m a mare of my word, not some cheater like you, Professor, but when you live by fraud, it stands to reason that you would see everybody else as fraudsters, too… Of course, I never said anything about what I would do if you didn’t accept.”
A blue glow surrounded Strikey and Professor Fossil as Starlight Glimmer levitated them off their hooves, towards her side of the room.
Vinyl and other unicorn ravers lit up her horns and tried to pull back the ponies, but they still continued levitating towards Starlight Glimmer.
“Get ‘em back!” Vinyl shouted, motioning with her hoof towards the opposite end of the room. Her earth pony and pegasus ravers rushed over to grab Strikey and Starlight Glimmer. But when they reached them, they found their hooves couldn’t touch them.
Starlight Glimmer smiled. “Trouble grabbing ahold? How do you think that I get those marks into the giant glass container without opening it and letting the other marks fly out? Intangibility.”
Vinyl’s jaw dropped. “But… but…”
Glimmer laughed. “What, you think that Pumpkin Cake is the only pony who knows that spell? No. She’s not unique. Nopony is. When I’m in power, nopony will be. I have my magic only to bring about a stateless, moneyless, markless society. But ultimately, at the very end, not even I will retain my skills.”
She set Fossil and Strikey down and removed their marks, as the ravers on Vinyl Scratch’s side remained powerless to stop her.
Starlight Glimmer concluded, “I will not allow Strikey to be separated from her mother. I will not allow your fraudster professor to continue his schemes and swindle the public. I will allow the rest of you to flee from here with your marks intact, but only to serve as a warning to Pumpkin Cake. Should she try to interfere with me, the Equals, or the Encampment, she will lose.”
Inside of Applejack’s office, Big Macintosh and Applejack scowled at each other. She sat behind the desk defensively, while he stood firm, his head held tall.
“Why can’t I reason with you, AJ?” asked Big Macintosh.
Applejack shook her head. “You union folks are talkin’ nonsense. Y’all ain’t gonna convince me to raise wages in a recession, when our oranges are sellin’ for half of their old price.”
Big Macintosh frowned, gritting his teeth. “You wouldn’t even raise wages before, when it was a good economy, when oranges sold for more... and I’m your own kin!”
Applejack said, “I ain’t a nepotist. I’m honest. You may be my brother, but you’re still unskilled, Big Mac. Anypony can harvest fruit, and you’re easily replaceable. It ain’t my fault that you didn’t get into management like I did. You shoulda known that you can’t work with your hooves your whole life. Equestria is changin’. There’s newfangled technology and free trade with the Second Duchy. The future ain’t in what you can do with your muscles; it’s in what you can do with your mind. For Canterlot it’s magic and machines; for me, it’s management.”
Big Macintosh said, “Nope. The future is in ponies carin’ for each other, like I cared for you after ma and pop passed. This is how you repay me? Your employees live in shacks on the beach, and can’t afford real houses. A pregnant donkey mother gave birth right in the field, and she just had to keep workin’. What sorta future is that? That ain’t what Granny Smith woulda wanted. She wanted families to look out for each other.”
Applejack scowled. “Don’t you dare lecture me about Granny Smith! You’re half the pony she was. Were she alive today, she’d be sick that you’re over forty and still harvestin’ trees! She wanted us to excel, to be the best. You have two children now, and you’re providin’ for ‘em with just a minimum wage job and an Orange employee discount? Don’t blame me for givin’ you that job; blame yourself for not strivin’ for more!”
Big Macintosh hung his head low in silence for a moment.
“I reckoned you’d say that, AJ. I was prayin’ it wouldn’t come to this, but you’ve left us no choice…”
A voice from outside the office shouted, “Big Macintosh! Is is time?”
“Eeyup!”
Applejack’s office door burst off of its hinges in a shower of splinters. Six muscular donkeys and earth ponies stormed into the office.
“You’re right, Applejack; things are changin’ in Equestria!” Big Macintosh exclaimed. “The workers are risin’ up across the nation: Hollow Shades, Manehattan, Horseshoe Bay. Orange Inc. belongs to the workers now, and not the corrupt Oranges and bad Apples!”
Applejack gritted her teeth. The workers approached her desk. She sprang out of her chair, turned around, and jumped through the open window of her first-story office, landing on the grass with a thud, and ran away.
Dodge Junction
Silverstar sat inside of a small trailer on the outskirts of Dodge Junction city, a wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth as he read a newspaper. The Princess had issued an arrest warrant for Starlight Glimmer, wanted for inciting riots in Manehattan. She could now be anywhere in Equestria.
If I were still a sheriff, I’d help catch that thug, he thought. But Silverstar hadn’t been a sheriff since he’d lived in Appleloosa years ago.
Silverstar spat into a bucket on his floor, covered in pizza boxes, apple cores, and other garbage. He gazed forlornly at the trailer walls, which told his life’s story.
An assault rifle hung above a mantle, and above that, a panorama of Appleloosa. On another wall proudly hung a shiny gold medal and key to the city that he’d received back in 2022 for twenty years of service as the town sheriff. The key could open no doors anymore in the destroyed town, making it about as useless as a talking bigmouth bass from Rich’s Barnyard Bargains. Nevertheless, it still held sentimental value to ex-Sheriff Silverstar, just like his nifty horseshoe-in-a-bottle that Pumpkin Cake had made for his birthday once. Despite her sass and backtalk towards him, she was still a good pony, he thought.
The walls were also plastered with newspapers, all from the Dodge Junction Journal. As the biggest city near Appleloosa, just to its east, Dodge Junction had taken particular interest in Appleloosa’s plight during the Great Racial Wars. After all, they reasoned, were Appleloosa to fall, Blueblood would’ve had a clear path to attack Dodge Junction and its half-a-million residents. He then could’ve seize Dodge’s cherry orchards, coal mines, and railroad yards. As a mostly-earth pony city, Dodge’s fate would’ve been atrocious. Even though Appleloosa did eventually fall, Dodge was thankfully never under serious threat, as it had a large Equestrian military base nearby.
From left to right on the trailer wall, the Journal’s headlines told the story of the Siege of Appleloosa. “Appleloosa a Ripe Target For SK,” then “Appleloosa Sheriff Forms Self-Defense Militia,” then “SK Train and Appleloosa Invasion Derailed.” The last two headlines read, “Appleloosa Captured, Silverstar Orders Retreat” and then “Pound Cake Destroys Appleloosa in Rainboom, Residents Escape Slavery.”
Silverstar regretted how he handled the situation. He wished that he’d been able to stay and fight, perhaps organize an underground resistance in Appleloosa after its capture. He wished that he could’ve done more for the townspeople. It had brought tears to his eyes when Pound Cake destroyed the town. Throughout the Siege, the Dodge Junction Journal had been sympathetic towards the Sheriff, painting him and the ASDF as heroes who’d held the line and fought fascists in Appleloosa so that they couldn’t make it to Dodge Junction.
Silverstar was much harder on himself than the Journal was. Losing the battle in Appleloosa had always rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t a hero for merely doing his job, he thought. A true hero went above and beyond, and despite the odds in Appleloosa having been stacked against him, he couldn’t help but blame himself. He just wished he had a second chance.
The doorbell rang.
“Come in, it’s unlocked.”
The door swung open.
“Applejack? Fancy seein’ you here,” Silverstar said, grinning.
Applejack gave him a big bear hug. “It’s been so long, Sheriff Silverstar!”
He shook his head. “It’s just ‘Dogcatcher Silverstar’ now, Applejack. Appleloosa is long gone, and here in Dodge I round up animals.”
Applejack raised an eyebrow. “Somepony like you, catchin’ dogs? If I might be frank, that’s beneath you, Sh—uh, Silverstar. Why not get back into policing?”
Silverstar shrugged. “I just can’t, after Appleloosa. Too many bad memories, I s’pose. I mean, are you still buckin’ apples?”
Applejack sighed. “About that… You’ve likely heard about how crazy it is. All the cities are havin’ riots. I just got kicked out of Horseshoe Bay by the union folks. They’ve taken over all of the orchards, offices, and on-site housing. They sacked my home.”
Silverstar nodded. “There’s been no riots in Dodge Junction, thankfully. I’d love to have you here, but as you can see, my trailer’s a mess…”
Applejack shook her head. “That ain’t a problem. I don’t judge.”
Silverstar smiled. “Make yourself cozy, then.”
The Royal Palace, Manehattan
As the evening faded, Princess Luna sauntered into the royal palace courtyard, ten by ten meters. Nightshade, nirnroots, and other nocturnal plants grew all around. Grasshoppers chirped, and owls hooted. A soft, black cat purred and brushed up against Luna’s fetlock. The courtyard was a sanctuary of the night’s glory. It was the most tranquil place in bustling Manehattan.
But the serenity was a veneer. With the riots and wanted ponies on the lam, security was tight. Bat-winged guards surrounded Princess Luna, wielding spears and crossbows. The weapons, though antiquated, were still deadly. The batponies could throw and shoot them quite accurately, and could shatter magical force fields. Their echolocation let them see invisible ponies who tried to sneak past them, and they could disable attackers with a piercing, painful shriek. Their fangs were sharp and deadly.
According to urban legends, the batponies were immortal, bloodsucking vampires. Of course, they didn’t suck blood, and were quite mortal, but Luna never dispelled the rumors. After all, the more menacing that the public thought Luna’s guards were, the less likely that anypony would try to assassinate her.
The palace was surrounded in recently-installed faraday cages, with the courtyard an exception, since Luna needed to magically move the celestial bodies from it. It was open-air, but was still surrounded by a powerful force field that could block sniper fire and prevent unicorns from teleporting in. With all of these measures in place, Luna felt safe.
Luna gazed up at the evening sky, where the sun hung just above the western horizon. She powered up her horn and laid the sun to rest, slowly submerging it like a graceful swan into the firmament. Purples and pinks shrouded the sky for fifteen minutes in a beautiful sunset. Equestria might’ve been in a recession, but the greatest show in the world was free. Once darkness had covered the land, Luna brought out the crescent moon, and gazed with satisfaction at the night. Her night.
For many centuries, moving the celestial bodies had always been Luna’s pride and joy. Sometimes she took it too seriously, such as when, out of jealousy towards Celestia’s beloved days, she became Nightmare Moon. But to her, and to Equestria, the days and nights were paramount. Of all of the monarchs’ ceremonial duties, like holding galas or celebrations, moving the celestial bodies was the most vital. Not only was it far more functionally useful, it was also a display of the Princess’ harmonious rule over Equestria for everyone to see. So long as the sun and moon glided through the heavens, ponies knew that their princesses were safe in Manehattan, caring for the people by giving them the warmth of the sun each day and the respite from its ultraviolet rays each night.
As for Equestria’s enemies, like Zaporizhia of the Zebra Empire, the celestial bodies displayed the power of the alicorns. Each sunrise and sunset over Zebrica painfully reminded Zaporizhia that he was no representative of god, and had no true power. What sort of god couldn’t even claim domain over the heavens? When little zebra foals asked their pious parents what made the sun move, they would either have to reluctantly concede that alicorns did it, or they would have to lie to credit Zaporizhia. Ultimately, a kingdom built upon lies could not stand.
As Luna gazed at her completed tapestry, a flash of light burst through the courtyard. A unicorn with a jet-black mane and coat appeared. The batponies raised their crossbows, firing at the unicorn intruder. The bolts whizzed by, and the spears cracked the air, harmlessly passing through her. The intruder bounded towards Luna, undeterred.
Luna powered up her horn and teleported to the opposite end of the courtyard. The unicorn followed, and the batponies shrieked their terrible screech towards the intruder, hoping to paralyze her. But this didn’t happen. Instead, the screech hit Luna, making her double over on the ground, putting her hooves to her ears in pain.
The unicorn reached the writhing Luna. With a surge of energy from her horn, she ripped Luna’s cutie mark from her flank. Luna winced as she felt weak. The unicorn disappeared instantly, taking Luna’s cutie mark with her. The batponies shrieked as Luna’s jaw gaped in disbelief at her blank flank.
Now, she had no power to raise the moon or sun anymore.
Luna’s guards rushed her inside the palace. They ran to Twilight Sparkle’s chambers, where she had been readying for bed.
“Oh my, what happened?” she exclaimed, running over to Princess Luna. Luna’s head hung low, her normally flowing mane having lost its luster. Luna merely shook her head, her eyes misty, as her guards relayed the story to Twilight Sparkle of the mark-stealing intruder.
“This must’ve been Starlight Glimmer. I-I had no idea she could turn intangible; I mean, that’s such a rare spell,” said Twilight, stammering in shock.
Luna sighed, gazing off into the distance for about a minute.
“I’m really sorry this has happened, Luna,” said Twilight. “We’ll catch Glimmer; we’ll interrogate her and get your mark back, I promise.”
Finally, Luna said, “I appreciate it, Twilight Sparkle. Until then, we should conceal this incident from the public. We would not want to cause widespread panic, or embolden the rabble. Rather, we should protect your own mark, for if both of us lose our special talents, we wouldn’t be able to move the sun or moon… and that would cause a panic.”
Twilight nodded. Luna was right about not causing a panic. But then she thought for a moment. If Glimmer could turn intangible, then most of Twilight’s security was useless. Sure, the palace had faraday cages now, but she couldn’t just hide in her palace for the rest of her life like Blueblood had lived in his bunker. Now more than ever she had to make speeches, try to calm the riotous mobs and concerned protesters, but public appearances would leave her a sitting duck. Twilight’s mark wasn’t safe on her own flank anymore. Indeed, there was only one place that it would be safe… the last place the thief would think to look.
Twilight recalled a magical mishap she’d had right before her ascension to alicornhood. But this time, the spell would be deliberate. She ordered the batpony guards out of the room. Not even they could know her plan. Her horn powered up.
She said, “Intangibility is a hard spell to counter. But as Trixie and Amethyst Star both showed with Pumpkin, it can be countered with deception.”
Luna’s flank now bore Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark, while Twilight’s flank was bare. Though not for long, as she summoned a paintbrush and painted her flank to look like her sparkle mark was still there.
Luna chuckled, taking the paintbrush to conceal Twilight’s cutie mark and paint her own over it. “Very clever. Glimmer wouldn’t look on my flank for your cutie mark, or for any mark at all. If she tries to steal your mark from you, she will find herself unable.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “And best of all, you can still do what you love the most: raise the sun and moon.”
Luna beamed, giving Twilight Sparkle a giant hug.
“Thank you so much, Twilight.”
Twilight said, “Just make sure that you turn invisible whenever you go into the courtyard to raise the sun or moon. We wouldn’t want Glimmer or her spies knowing that it’s you, and not me, doing it. If she tries the same stunt again as tonight, it won’t be as easy if she can’t see you.”
Luna nodded. “We cannot let this Encampment continue, Twilight Sparkle. It is tearing this country apart. It threatens us. We must take action to stop it.”
“You’re right, Princess Luna. We will.”
Fillydelphia
Inside of Police Lieutenant Raindrops’ office, she read the newspaper in shock. Protests had spread to every major city in Equestria, with a few spreading to the Second Kingdom and Cloud Confederacy. In Manehattan, five police officers had been killed, and twenty were injured. But fifteen protesters had been killed, and hundreds were injured, many of them paralyzed or blinded. Though Fillydelphia had remained peaceful, two fatalities and dozens of injuries had also been reported from Applewood, Horseshoe Bay, and Baltimare.
Raindrops had never seen such terrible policing. The police were supposed to support the community, not stand against it. Such police brutality was unacceptable to her, but to Twilight Sparkle and Luna, it was part of keeping the big cities safe. That morning, the princesses had instructed police departments across Equestria to use all nonlethal force deemed necessary to protect lives, property, and civil order. Of course, to Raindrops, what the princesses really meant was that the lives of protesters didn’t matter. “Nonlethal” force frequently turned lethal, such as when shapeshifted frogs were squashed.
Raindrops’ badge sat on her desk. Over the past few days, she had contemplated resigning. This was exactly like the corruption under President Lightning Dust in the Cloud Confederacy, which had now spawned Encampment-inspired protests in Cloudsdale. As Raindrops gazed at her badge, her heart sank in her chest. She needed to find a new job.
She picked up the badge between her feathers, opened her door, and started down the hallway towards the chief’s office.
“Ah, Lieutenant Raindrops,” said the chief, a portly, yellow earth stallion named Big Cheese. “Come in and have a seat. Ol’ Jetty and Crusty have caught wind of another strike planned at the JSUC factory at 3:00 PM. Only this time, it’s a strike for the workers to get back to work. Those ASDF guys can’t make up their minds, can they?”
Raindrops shrugged. “They want a better life for their families.”
The Chief sighed. “Look, Dropsy. I know you’re in Equestrians For Action. Now, your political affiliations on your own time is your business. But here, I expect you to do your job. Right now, we need to prevent violence or arson at the JSUC factory.”
Raindrops tilted her head. “Why would the ASDF burn down a place they wanted to work at? The Fillydelphia Encampment has been vastly peaceful. It’s not like Manehattan. Not a single cop has been injured here. Not a single building or car has been burned.”
Big Cheese nodded. “It’s our job to keep it that way. These protests all feed off each other. I have good intel that the ASDF is pre-mixing molotovs for this afternoon. Even in a recession, that factory is an important asset to this city. Now, I’ve assigned our best unicorns to this. You’ll lead a team of riot police to guard that factory. If these strikers attempt to breach the line, if they throw even a single bottle, you’ll cast a gravity spell on the factory. That’s a proven tactic to break up these protests. Your earth and unicorn riot police will be given suction-cup horseshoes to keep themselves grounded, but the rioters will all fly down the street.”
Raindrops’ jaw dropped. “This is highly irregular, sir! Gravity spells are dangerous and unusual for in crowd control. Only the Mareicopa Militia uses them, and those guys aren’t even an official police force. Canterlot uses them, but that’s the Second Duchy.”
Chief Big Cheese responded, “Gravity spells worked great in Mareicopa. Notice there isn’t an Encampment in that city, or one in Canterlot anymore.”
Raindrops said, “When Duchess Sparkler and Fancy Pants broke up the Canterlot Encampment with gravity spells, five protesters died. We have plenty of other non-lethal methods to use if we need to: tear gas, rubber bullets, or bean bags. But not even the Manehattan PD uses gravity spells. It would be like breaking up a protest with the want-it, need-it spell. Ponies could get broken bones. What if, instead of falling back down to the street unharmed, they slam into a lamppost or the side of a building? They could die!”
Big Cheese held up a hoof. “The Princesses have authorized our departments to use any non-lethal force we need to preserve the public order. As Chief, I deem we need a gravity spell to protect Fillydelphia. You have your orders, Lieutenant. If you won’t comply, then give me that badge and I’ll find somepony else who will.”
Raindrops felt the cold brass of her badge, still between her feathers, as she contemplated laying it down on the desk and resigning at once. But Big Cheese had said, “I’ll find somepony else who will.” The ASDF and the Encampment wouldn’t back down, and there would almost certainly be a few minor scuffles at the strike. So the gravity spells would get used no matter what.
Unless…
Lieutenant Raindrops reached with her free wing into her holster, whipped out her gun, and pointed it at the Chief.
“Hooves where I can see them, Chief Big Cheese! You’re under arrest for dereliction of duty, for taking bribes from Jet Set and Upper Crust, and for conspiracy to commit mass public endangerment!”
Big Cheese chuckled. “I knew I shouldn’t have hired you onto the force, Dropsy. Lightning Dust was right to sack you in Cloudsdale. Here I thought that you were a true Equestrian patriot, defecting from the Cloud Confederacy, but you’re no better than the rioters.”
Raindrops narrowed her eyes as she took a pair of hoofcuffs in her mouth and slapped them on the chief’s hooves with a clink.
“The EFA are true Equestrian patriots.”
Raindrops walked the Chief down the hallway, pressing a gun against his flabby back. Raindrops’ comrades stared in shock as she put him into in a holding cell. The bars clanked shut with a slam. She explained the charges to the booking officer, who nervously obeyed Raindrops and booked his own chief for corruption and public endangerment.
“I am now the acting Fillydelphia Chief of Police,” said Raindrops, turning to the other officers standing around. “Does anypony take issue with that?”
“This is highly irregular,” said one officer.
Raindrops chuckled. “We live in highly irregular times.”
“We are Manehattan! We are Hollow Shades! We are Horseshoe Bay! We are Equestria!”
Organized Labor and her union workers chanted in front of the JSUC factory as lines of factory security stood between them and the doors. The riot police stood along the side of the protest. Jet Set and Upper Crust walked down the steps into the yard, standing behind their security. The crowd booed upon seeing them.
“Give our jobs back! Give our jobs back!” the laid-off workers demanded.
Jet Set floated a megaphone to his mouth and spoke.
“The war has been over for two years. I understand your frustration. With peace, the arms business has declined. What should we do? Start selling weapons to foreign powers like we allegedly sold to the Zebras?”
Organized Labor shouted back through her megaphone. “It’s your responsibility to not conduct treason, to employ workers and pay them a fair wage!”
The crowd cheered.
Upper Crust took the microphone from her husband. “Perhaps we should make weapons and throw them into a hole in the ground, just so you could have a job? Pay ponies to waste resources? Would that make you all happy?” she quipped.
The crowd cheered. Upper Crust buried her face into her hooves, and Jet Set scowled at the crowd.
“Let’s pull a Horseshoe Bay and take back what’s ours!” shouted Organized Labor.
The strikers advanced on the factory security guards, who retreated back towards the factory steps, waiting for the riot police to start pushing the strikers back. Unlike Big Cheese had predicted, the strikers carried no molotovs, but were insistent about getting into the factory.
Jet Set turned to Upper Crust and whispered in her ear.
“Where’s the gravity spell we were promised?”
“Not here,” said Raindrops, who swooped in on them. She grabbed the microphone from Upper Crust.
“The police are with the people!” Raindrops shouted. “Fillydelphia PD won’t take orders from the Princesses or their cronies anymore. They are unlawful rulers, and Fillydelphia doesn’t answer to them or the oligarchs!”
The strikers cheered.
Organized Labor shouted, “Back to work again, everypony! Go make munitions!”
The workers stormed through the door and into the factory, cheering and hollering. Ten minutes later, acrid smoke started pouring from the stacks, the thickest and blackest that it had in two years. Floor managers barked at employees, but only in an encouraging way.
At the end of the evening, a giant pile of assault rifles, anti-tank weapons, and bullets sat on the end of the conveyor belt. The factory workers cheered at the fruit of their labor.
Manehattan
Princess Twilight, Luna, General Spitfire, Manehattan Police Chief Copper, MPD Sergeant Cuffs, Jolly Doodle Donkey, Pound Cake, and Rainbow Dash all sat around a table at the royal meeting room. The protests outside were so loud, they could even hear them indoors.
“Thanks for coming to this meeting, everypony: military officials, police officials, and opposition leaders,” said Twilight Sparkle, looking at each one of them and smiling nervously.
She continued, “I’ve called you all here over an urgent matter of law and order. The Encampment has been going on for months. They’ve made many demands: some reasonable, some not. But gradually, they’ve become more violent.”
Pound Cake opened his mouth to object, but Rainbow Dash shook her head.
“Not yet,” she whispered in his ear.
Twilight Sparkle continued, “Manehattan’s Parliamentary Square has turned into a virtual warzone. I commend the EFA and the Equals for keeping guns out of the square this summer. The combatants have only been armed with improvised petrol bombs, sticks, stones, and slingshots, so I haven’t sought a military or national guard response so far, only riot police.”
Sergeant Cuffs said, “We demand that the Encampment observe local assembly laws, and reins in the troubling violence that has already killed five officers.”
“You first. Stop police brutality,” said Pound Cake.
Twilight Sparkle cleared her throat. “As I was saying, so far this has just been a police issue. But events yesterday in Filly raise concerns. Police Chief Big Cheese was unlawfully detained by a rogue lieutenant, who ordered the police to stand down against a strike. Activists have seized businesses all over the city. Hundreds of Fillydelphia shops have been looted in the chaos. The mayor’s office, courthouse, and city council were occupied. But most disturbingly, a group of ASDF union members seized the city’s largest munitions factory. They’ve started the assembly lines up full blast, pumping out thousands of small arms. The ASDF is allied with the EFA and has protested with you before. Pound Cake and Rainbow Dash, we fear that you’re fomenting armed rebellion.”
“That’s a total lie!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “There’s no ‘armed rebellion.’ Here’s the scoop. Police Chief Big Cheese wanted to use gravity spells on peaceful strikers, on your order.”
Twilight said, “We authorized any non-lethal methods deemed necessary to protect the civil order: tear gas, rubber bullets, shape changing spells, etcetera. We didn’t mention gravity spells specifically, but those are non-lethal, too.”
“Tell that to those dead unicorns in Canterlot who were smashed against brick walls just for protesting the nobility,” Pound Cake scoffed. “You never should’ve made Sparkler a duchess. She’s more like a dictator: unappointed for life and drunk with power. Just like—”
“Point is, Princesses,” said Rainbow, interrupting Pound Cake, “Drops wanted to get… well, the drop on ol’ Chief Cheese. She arrested him for taking bribes from JSUC in exchange for using city police for strikebreaking. That shady cronyism went on for years. Drops wouldn’t take it anymore. The strikers wouldn’t let a factory be run by ponies who sold out Equestria to the Zebras during the Racial Wars. So they nationalized it.”
“What serendipitous timing they have,” Princess Luna scoffed.
Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Maybe not good timing for you, but Drops’ actions check out. Look at the indictment.”
Twilight asked, “How fair of an indictment can you get when the courthouse is occupied by Encampment protesters? No prosecutor on earth would deny charging the police chief when there’s an angry crowd outside of his office. But that’s not justice; that’s mob rule.”
“It’s the only way to make sure that those crooked judges and prosecutors in Filly respond to the will of the people and not to bribery,” said Pound Cake.
“Your Encampment is turning into an armed rebellion,” said General Spitfire. “The JSUC factory is pumping out weapons. There isn’t any war on, Pound Cake, so what are the guns for? I’m not stupid. I’m the one who taught you military strategy, remember?”
“Those ponies need jobs and work to do,” said Rainbow Dash. “They have a right to work at JSUC for a decent wage. We’ve nationalized the factory for the people, just like you should’ve done years ago, Twilight. The workers are making guns, but then they’re turning right back around and melting the steel down to make more guns again. Unlike when ‘Jetty’ and ‘Crusty’ owned JSUC and sold to the Zebras, none of those guns are leaving the factory.”
Spitfire laughed. “Do you two honestly expect me to buy that? I can’t believe that I ever even considered you for the Wonderbolts, Rainbow Dash. My scouts have seen ponies taking next-generation sniper rifles from the factory. What I’ve actually found out is that one of your boys is right outside, northeast I'd say, with an infrared scope.”
Rainbow Dash shook her head. “There should be no shrinkage, no guns leaving the factory. I’ll chat with Organized Labor and Raindrops about that. I don’t know who you saw, but he wasn’t one of our guys. We’re all unarmed.”
“Spitfire, why are you siding with the princess, here?” asked Pound Cake. “You remember Cloudsdale. Corrupt oligarchs ripped that city away from Equestria. It was your home. The pegasus elites were greedy and didn’t want to do their fair share to defend Equestria. They appealed to greed and selfishness, rigged the vote, and put their crony Dust in power. She says she stands for the pegasi, but she only stands for herself. Sound familiar?”
General Spitfire shook her head. “I’m a general, not a politician. My only job is to defend Equestria. Whatever law JSUC broke, whatever law Big Cheese broke: that’s up to the courts to decide.”
Sergeant Cuffs said, “Your armed gang is running around Fillydelphia imposing mob rule, burning cops to death in the streets of Manehattan.”
“The situation is deadly and must end immediately,” said Chief Copper.
“The officers are right. We can’t tolerate vigilantism in Equestria,” said Twilight Sparkle.
Rainbow Dash laughed. “Oh, yeah? You tolerate it in Mareicopa just fine. When Pumpkin Cake seized that city, you enabled her, Twilight. You legalized the Mareicopa Resistance and their magic. You gave Copa special status, you let Pumpkin keep a charm as dangerous as a thousand guns, and you ignored her ‘lobbying’ when she paid off every local lawmaker. Funny how you’re only worried now, when it’s students and labor activists armed with sticks and stones—instead of some fatcat sorceress’s private army with tanks and RPGs. Which is worse?”
Pound Cake nodded. “You’re so hypocritical, Princess.”
Twilight Sparkle’s jaw dropped as she threw her hooves in the air. “Pound Cake, you were at that meeting two years ago. It was a compromise. You twins agreed to not cause any more trouble, in exchange for the magic laws remaining on the books nationally like you wanted, but with Copa getting to override that locally like Pumpkin wanted. I let her keep her militia and the Alicorn Charm as a precautionary defense of Mareicopa’s special status. Treaties have to have teeth or they can be broken; just ask the buffalo.
“You say Pumpkin is dangerous, but she’s healing terminal cancer patients and delivering babies with magic. I’d happily let her keep the alicornium and her militia for her to keep saving lives. She’s become a model magician. But you? Raindrops? Starlight Glimmer? You’ve been a thorn in my side since the war ended. Right now, a dusty tank or RPG locked in a desert warehouse is far less dangerous than the molotov cocktails and rocks you’re throwing at police officers in the streets of Equestria’s capital.”
Spitfire said, “And again, I don’t care what stupid excuse you give about making guns and remelting them down like you’re grinding experience points in an RPG—the game, not the rocket launcher—even if that were true, you still have instant access to weapons of war whenever you want.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “How do we know that you won’t start an armed rebellion?”
Pound Cake said, “You don’t yet. So we compromise, just like you did with Pumpkin.”
Rainbow Dash reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a piece of paper.
“Here are our demands,” she said, reading from the paper. “In response to overwhelming public will, Princess Twilight Sparkle and Princess Luna will resign immediately. Equestria will transition from a monarchy to a democratic republic with an elected president and prime minister. The president will conduct diplomacy and national defense, while the prime minister will sign bills into law and have veto power.”
“You’ve rejected more bills than a vending machine,” said Pound Cake. “Equestria voted for the Party of Laborers in a landslide last election. The voters want Equestria to become a progressive welfare state like the Stirrupeans have. We didn’t vote for some secret oligarch council to pull the strings on an unelected alicorn princess to protect their pocketbooks. We didn’t vote for ponies to die in the streets without homes, food, or healthcare.”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. “I understand that I’m unpopular right now. I think it’s temporary, due to the recession, but the Encampment would disagree. So I‘ll concede to a few demands. How about we only give up our powers to sign legislation, and snap elections for prime minister are held. That pony can sign off on universal healthcare, antidiscrimination laws, public works, the whole shebang… but I won’t be responsible for shackling Equestria’s ailing economy with endless regulations. That won’t be my legacy.”
Luna nodded. “We always strive to make our subjects happy. If they are displeased with us, we will reform, but the violence must cease.”
Rainbow Dash shook her head. “That’s not good enough. You have to give up your power over defense and diplomacy, too. Surrendering Tall Tale and Vanhoover was the most cowardly, disloyal act in history. And JSUC and the Oranges were on your own council, Twilight, but somehow you didn’t seem to notice them helping out Equestria’s enemies. You should’ve just thrown all those friendship letters to Princess Celestia in the trash; you’re a bad judge of character. We need a president who’s accountable to the people, who they can vote out of office for big mistakes like yours.”
Twilight Sparkle sighed. “JSUC and the Oranges were a huge oversight, I admit, but I never abandoned the Northwest, Dash. I had my reasons to surrender, but I’m still loyal to those cities. Maybe if you’d sat in my chair, you'd see things differently. I've never stopped the struggle. In fact, after you leave, General Spitfire and I will discuss our latest Northwestern strategy. But it’s officially peacetime now, so my options are limited. A president would be similarly limited. But fine, I’ll give up those powers, too. Luna and I will retain only our power over the sun and moon. Equestria will be a constitutional monarchy with the real power wielded by elected officials, and Luna and I will just raise the sun and hold fancy galas. Surely, that’s acceptable?”
“Ceremonial duties only, like the monarch in the Uneighted Kingdom. That’s fair,” said Pound Cake. “When will the first presidential elections be?”
“How about early November?” asked Twilight. “That gives several months for candidates to campaign. Then, I’ll spend two months training my replacement. Come January, I’ll transfer my powers.”
Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake looked at each other and smiled.
“In exchange, you have to agree to no more violence on the Encampment, and you have to surrender the buildings you’re illegally occupying: the Manehattan library, the Fillydelphia city hall and court, the Orange Incorporated offices and housing, etcetera,” said Twilight Sparkle.
“No,” said Jolly Doodle Donkey. Everypony looked at him.
He said, “There will be no monarchs in Equestria, ‘ceremonial’ duties or not. Raising the sun and moon is the people’s collective responsibility. It shouldn’t be up to a single alicorn. Look at how Blueblood’s unicorns threatened Cloudsdale with the moon; it’s an easily-abused power. You could always just threaten Equestria with the moon if you wanted your executive powers back. It’s unfair.”
Twilight said, “Raising the sun and moon is only a ceremonial duty, like holding a gala. It’s lot more efficient to have a single alicorn do than a team of unicorns.”
Jolly shook his head. “That’s another thing. Alicorns are an unnatural affront to equality. Just because you have a horn and wings, that doesn’t make you better than anyone.”
“No, it just means that I can fly and use magic, while a pegasus or a unicorn can only do one or the other,” said Twilight Sparkle. She chuckled. “Oh, and I guess that I could also farm like an earth pony, but no one ever brings that up.”
Jolly shook his head. “Alicorns are unequal. If you’re the monarch just because of that, people might start to look up to you. Unicorns will covet your wings. Pegasi will covet your horn. Donkeys will covet both. How can we ever be equal with you looming over us as ‘monarch?’”
Twilight Sparkle sighed. “This is a stupid conversation. Forget cutie marks; the only way you’ll be ‘equal’ in your communes is if you take pegasi’s wings, unicorns’ horns, earth ponies’ hooves, cows’ udders, sheep’s follicles, and whatever makes donkeys tick. Take both sexes’ genitalia. Then you’ll all be equal… in impotence. Or is that really your secret plan after you get done with cutie marks?”
Jolly chuckled. “You’re right, ‘princess’; this is a stupid conversation. Since you won’t listen, you can count the Equals out of these negotiations.”
Jolly Doodle stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“That’s not very jolly of him,” said Pound Cake.
Twilight Sparkle said, “So, does the EFA and the monarchy at least have an agreement, then? I will hold elections in November, in exchange for the Encampment forswearing violence and leaving the occupied buildings. You may still remain on Parliamentary Square only.”
Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake both nodded. Twilight Sparkle smiled.
“Excellent. I’ll have it drawn up in writing, and we all will sign it.”
After the agreement was signed and the leaders of the opposition left, Twilight Sparkle and the rest of the government officials remained in the meeting room.
“I do not trust them, Twilight Sparkle. Especially not the Equals, Jolly Doodle, or Starlight Glimmer,” said Princess Luna.
Twilight Sparkle sighed. “I gave them almost everything they wanted. They should all be happy. The Equals will just have to live with the compromise, since Equals only number less than five percent of the total protesters. For now, we need to get this crowd under control. Sergeant Cuffs and Chief Copper, please ensure that the activists leave those buildings in a timely manner. Thank you.”
Cuffs and Copper nodded, stood up from their chairs, and shook the princess’ hooves. Only Luna, Twilight, and Spitfire remained in the room.
Twilight said, “General Spitfire, I would like you to move national guard battalions towards the east coast. Hopefully, they won’t be needed, and the agreement will be kept. But I want you to station a few thousand of them near Fillydelphia and Manehattan, just to be safe. That gun factory worries me.”
General Spitfire nodded. “I’d hate to have a repeat of Tall Tale and Vanhoover on the east coast. But the good news about the Northwest, is that the plan’s going well. As an update, after we blew the dam, the cities switched to coal fired plants and emergency backup generators. The power is really spotty, and the juice will run out entirely within a month, leaving the Northwest with zero electricity. Zecora’s gotten the drowsilia potions mixed, and has an assassination plan for Zaporizhia. As soon as the power goes out for good, it’ll all come together. Zap gets killed, outages, civil unrest, police drink the potions to try and restore order, they all die, then we swoop in, mop up the remaining militants, restore order, and rebuild the dam.”
“Quite a complicated plan,” said Princess Luna. “Once again, I reiterate that it would’ve been easier had we never surrendered the cities to begin with.”
Ignoring Luna, Twilight Sparkle asked, “You’ve told me before that this plan needs tens of thousands of national guardsponies. With this plan, could you still spare the extra soldiers for Manehattan?”
Spitfire shrugged. “Depends on how long the unrest goes on. Hopefully they stick to that agreement. Should I give the Manehattan guard firearms and live ammunition?”
Twilight Sparkle said, “Absolutely. Arm them as well as you’d arm the military. Give them a few grenades and flamethrowers in case things get really nasty. I won’t let the Encampment kill more police.”
Spitfire nodded. “It might be hard trying to contain the east coast and also trying to take back Tall Tale and Vanhoover at once. The timing is pretty terrible on this.”
“Just do your best. I have faith in you, General Spitfire,” said Twilight.
Spitfire smiled. “Thanks, Twilight. I won’t let Manehattan fall like Tall Tale did.”
On the top floor of an abandoned warehouse in Manehattan, Jolly Doodle sauntered in. The lights were dim, and only a lone, dark figure stood in the shadows.
“The Princesses refuse to step down, Starlight Glimmer. They’re giving up most of their executive powers, but they’ll still be in charge of the heavens,” said Jolly Doodle, frowning.
Glimmer sighed, stepping out of the shadows. “I would have thought they’d got the message. What, do I have to take both of their cutie marks? Though, honestly, I’m surprised that Luna agreed to even give up anything. Perhaps I scared her straight. Signing my arrest warrant was a grave mistake. My work isn’t done, I see.”
Jolly Doodle chuckled. “What should I tell the Equals?”
“That we will continue the struggle until we overcome. Behind the scenes, I’ve already made a powerful ally in Organized Labor and the ASDF.”
Thousands of Encampment members gathered around the stage where Starlight Glimmer used to hold her cutie mark revivals. Others used the stage to sing protest songs, like Lyra and Bon Bon or Bray Z. Stirrupean politicians, who had been voicing their support for months, gave speeches. A month ago, a mayor of a large Trottish city had spoken. Today, a legislator named Foules from Prance took the stage. She was a popular politician who’d penned many social and employment programs in Prance, including universal health care, universal housing, paid maternity leave, and seven weeks paid vacation.
“Citizens of Equestria! We, ze people of Prance, proudly stand with jou in jour struggle for democracy! In Prance, it took many jears for us to remove ze shackles of monarchy, but we did! It took courage, strength, and conviction from our people to depose the king, but he was not invincible!”
The crowd cheered.
“Never surrender, keep protesting! Someday, Equestria will be a proud democracy, and ze government will care for ze people! No ponies will starve, or die, or go sick in ze streets. Unicorns won’t cast dangerous spells. Donkeys and cattle will be equal to ponies. It is like zis in Prance today, and will be like zis in Equestria soon! Thank jou.”
Foules took a bow, and the crowd applauded her. She left the stage and passed out fresh croissants to protesters, talking and mingling with them.
Rainbow Dash took the stage. “Thank you, Foules. Before our next guest, I just want to remind everyone that our agreement with the Princess doesn’t allow camping out in the library or any other public buildings. The library needs to be vacated by 8:00 PM this evening, so if you’re staying there, please gather your things. We want to make this as smooth as possible. Thanks! Next up, we have Twilight Sparkle herself to deliver a brief message.”
Twilight Sparkle took the stage to a mix of boos and cheers.
She said, “Greetings, Encampment. I hope that, rather than resort to any more violence, you all put your energy into the democratic process and supporting the your chosen candidates in the upcoming elections in November. I will peacefully transfer power when the time comes, and I will remain only a ceremonial monarch. Though I continue to personally oppose government intervention in the economy, I will not stand in the way of parliament or the new prime minister should they decide to pass those laws. Thank you.”
Everypony cheered Twilight Sparkle as she left the stage. After she left, various performers and musicians took the stage, singing protest songs all afternoon.
Inside the Manehattan Public Library, Jolly Doodle Donkey, Hoops, Dumb Bell, and dozens of Equals and homeless ponies stood peering out of the windows in anticipation. A grandfather clock read 7:55 PM, and the day was growing dim.
Columns of riot police marched down the street, right towards the library.
“That’s another one with a pistol in his holster,” said Hoops, holding a pair of binoculars in his hooves.
“Oh gosh, that one has a machine gun! He’s wearing camoflage!” Dumbbell exclaimed.
Hoops and Dumb Bell both turned to Jolly Doodle. Jolly shook his head.
“We have our orders from Starlight Glimmer. We’re staying right here in this library, whether these riot police like it or not. The Equals didn’t sign that agreement. We’ll continue to fight.”
The clock struck 8:00 PM, as Sergeant Cuffs got on the megaphone.
“This building is unlawfully occupied! You will vacate immediately!”
Dumb Bell and Hoops both turned around and mooned the officers through the windows. The Equals and homeless in the building hollered and cheered, and they ran over to join the display, which lasted about ten minutes.
“Aah!” Dumb Bell exclaimed, as he fell flat on his face, knocked over. The library windows shattered into shards of glass as tear gas canisters flew through. The stinging, noxious fumes filled the air, and sparks from the canisters caught some trash on fire. Homeless ponies rushed to stamp it out, but it spread to their clothes, and soon engulfed a bookshelf.
“You bastards! We’re not leaving. This is our home!” Dumb Bell shouted. As homeless ponies and Equals fled to the fire escape, he reached under a table, retrieved a double-barrel shotgun, and fired both barrels out the window towards the officers. With a loud blam, an officer fell to the street.
After this, gunfire erupted all around, as the remaining windows shattered and the smoke and tear gas started to pour out. Dumb Bell coughed and wheezed, reaching into his saddlebag for more shotgun shells. But before he could reload, his head exploded like a watermelon hit with a sledgehammer.
“DUMB BELL!” Hoops shouted. He rushed to pick up the shotgun, but Jolly Doodle bit his tail as sniper fire hit the sides of bookshelves, scattering splinters and bits of paper everywhere.
“Come on! We have rifles on the rooftops. Let’s get out of here!” Jolly urged.
Hoops nodded and flew to the other end of the library with Jolly, where they rushed out a window and into the sky, towards the top floor.
The darkness had just fallen. Lyra Heartstrings, Bon Bon, and their backing musicians stood on the stage of Parliamentary Square, playing their songs. One was a slow, melodic ballad about caring for others, followed by a peppy acoustic love song. They had just launched into a ska-punk tirade against the establishment when a tear gas canister landed right in the bell of the saxophone.
Thinking quickly, the portly saxophonist stallion jumped on top of his instrument like a soldier catching a grenade, grinning at the other band members. His elation was premature, as the pressure of the gas built up and spewed out, knocking him flat. Lyra and Bon Bon coughed as tear gas entirely filled the square, and gunshots rang through the air.
The audience dispersed in every direction. The backing musicians bailed offstage, while roadies grabbed the gear and ran towards the tour bus. A gunshot rang out, and a bullet punctured the side of an amplifier, with copper wires splaying out everywhere.
Bon Bon dived off the stage, jumping with her bongos strapped to her back. Lyra teleported, her lyre held in her magical grasp, following behind. More gunshots rang out in the distance.
“How could they shoot at us? We’re just performers!” Bon Bon exclaimed.
“What a bunch of rotten cops,” said Lyra. She peeked out from the side of the stage, over the wooden floorboards, towards Celestial Street, stealing a quick glance before pulling her head back down.
Merely thirty meters away from them, Celestial Street had become a warzone. National Guard troops wearing camouflage and carrying assault rifles stood behind police, who were now armed with sidearms in addition to rubber bullets and tear gas. The line advanced towards the square, as a bulldozer slammed through one of the barricades, shoving old furniture and sandbags out of the way. Rioters threw molotovs towards it. With a gunshot, one of the cocktails burst open in a rioter’s hoof, which itself splintered with a sickening crunch as he fell to the floor, rolling around and wailing in agony as the fire consumed his fur. A pegasus with a rifle swooped over the bulldozer and fired at the driver. The windshield turned red, and the dozer stopped in its tracks.
“How does it look?” asked Bon Bon.
Lyra hung her head low. “Awful. Our guys are getting shot. The police don’t even care who they hit.”
“Then we have to leave! It’s not safe!” Bon Bon exclaimed, tugging at Lyra’s mane with her hoof.
Lyra shook her head. “No. They need us.”
Bon Bon’s jaw dropped. “We’ll get shot at!”
“Maybe, but we’ll fight back.”
Bon Bon groaned. “With what, your lyre? You’ll whack them? And I’ll smash their head through a bongo? This isn’t a cartoon, Lyra!”
Lyra rolled her eyes. “We won’t hit them with instruments, you dingus… we’ll play them. We have to encourage our side to fight! Ever hear of a bard?”
Lyra smiled and galloped over towards the tour bus. Bon Bon sighed and bounded after her. They rushed inside the bus, shutting the door as the sides were peppered with more stray gunfire. The tour bus had had most of its windows covered up with decals and graphics of the band. The glass was bulletproof, providing protection from the stray gunfire.
“Step on it!” Lyra shouted. The bus driver, a tie-die shirt wearing stallion who stank of marijuana, nodded and put his hoof on the gas. The bus honked as the engine turned on.
“Where we goin’, Lyra?” he asked, turning back. “The square ain’t safe, and I can’t get by that road with the dozers and cops.”
“We aren’t going that way,” said Lyra. “Head to the royal palace! If Twilight and Luna think their cops can shoot at peaceful musicians and wreck our show, then we’ll bring the show to them!”
“Okay. I’ll take the Lunar Boulevard; there’ll be less traffic,” said the driver.
“Let’s hookup our onboard sound system,” said Bon Bon, turning and reluctantly grinning at Lyra. “If we’re going to be bards, we should do it right.”
The bus drove around the stage, honking as rioters and police officers jumped out of the way to avoid getting run over. It eked out a path between the rows of burning Encampment tents and throngs of rioting mobs and police. After thirty tense seconds, they reached the exit ramp of the square where vehicles could leave. Three police officers stood blocking it off, holding out their hooves.
“They won’t let us leave!” the bus driver shouted.
“Keep going!” Lyra urged.
“But I’ll run ‘em ov—”
“I said keep going!” Lyra shouted.
The bus rammed towards the exit, honking its horn. The police officers shouted at the driver to stop, but he leadhoofed the pedal. One officer drew a hoofgun and fired through the windshield and at the engine, but the driver ducked behind the wheel. Oil leaked out over the ground, but the bus plowed through the three officers and others who had run onto the scene.
“The check engine light’s on, dudes," the driver noted, rounding onto Lunar Boulevard. They now had a straight road to drive to reach the palace several blocks away.
“Oh, as if that’s our biggest problem right now,” Bon Bon scoffed. She looked through the back window. Officers were racing after the bus, but so were hundreds of protesters, who cheered on Lyra and Bon Bon and assaulted the cops with rocks and baseball bats.
Lyra said, “They want a show, Bon Bon! Let’s grab our instruments! Driver, stay under twenty so they can keep up.”
“What are we even going to play, Lyra?” asked Bon Bon, grabbing her bongos in her hooves.
Lyra shrugged, her lyre floating in her magic. “I don’t know. Something… uh, combat-y, I guess? Honestly, I didn’t even think we’d make it this far!”
“Why don’t we play that new song we wrote? I think that now’s the time,” said Bon Bon.
Lyra nodded, and took the microphone. “Alright, everypony! You wanted a show, here’s one!”
“Follow this tour bus!” Bon Bon added.
The running crowd cheered as the musicians’ voices poured through the speakers atop the bus, and raced down city blocks as they tried to keep up with the traveling band. The lyrics began.
“It’s time for a change to make the world a better place Put love in our hearts and smiles on our face Just a little change is all we need to save the day, to drive out all the greed and take our needs away!”
Protesters cheered, chasing the musical bus like schoolchildren running after an ice cream truck. Police ran after them, pegasus officers soaring through the air, earth pony officers galloping, and unicorns teleporting along. Shop windows, mailboxes, and benches were coated in gunfire and consumed by flames in a blazing trail of destruction. Looters gleefully emptied out electronics stores and stole telephones and radios, knocking over trash cans and setting cars on fire.
“Don’t loot!”
“Stop! You’re making us look bad!”
“Quit discrediting our movement!”
Dozens of protesters locked hooves around the shops to stop looters from destroying them, as looters tried to push and shove past. A police unicorn appeared and blasted the entire group with a piercing noise spell.
“The other day I saw a mare who said she had no change to spare when a homeless pony asked her for a dime. But if he’d ever seen her house with every hedge and marble fount He’d know her soul was black and full of grime.”
A volley of molotov cocktails landed in the lobby of the Pursuit Bank head branch, flames crawling over carpets and climbing up to the chandeliers as bankers and customers screamed in terror. Firefighters rushed with buckets of water and hoses to put out the blaze. Encampment protesters formed pony chains around the firefighters, protecting them from assault from the arsonists.
Up in the night sky, Pound Cake soared, watching the total pandemonium below. His heart sunk as police and national guards fired automatic weapons towards the crowds. They could easily hit unarmed ponies, he thought, since everypony was just too mixed together. Only a few protesters on his side had weapons, but most of the authorities did. A guardspony with a flamethrower set the Encampment tents alight as protesters ran in terror. Five bulldozers smashed through barricades, plowing into crowds.
The Princesses had betrayed the agreement, Pound Cake realized. Nonviolence could only work if both sides were peaceful, but Sergeant Cuffs had sent in armed police, and General Spitfire had sent in the National Guard to clear out the library. It reminded him of the cowardly acts of King Blueblood when he forced a ceasefire by bringing down the moon over Cloudsdale, terrifying everypony into submission. Now, Twilight and Luna were taking a page from Blueblood and doing what they were best at: trampling on their subjects. Just like with the Zebra internment, or Hayseed’s farm, or the strikers in Fillydelphia. After slaughtering the protesters, Pound predicted that the Princesses would tear up the agreement and claim that the Encampment had broken it. Then they’d stay in power forever.
Not anymore. Right then, Pound resolved that there would be no more terrorism. No more greed. No more selfishness by the few at the expense of the many. Not from the oligarchs, Pumpkin Cake, or Twilight Sparkle. The people’s voices would finally be heard. As Pound Cake floated towards Lunar Boulevard, the strumming of an electric lyre and the banging of bongos met his ears, interspersed with gunfire, explosions, and shouting. Though the road in front of the tour bus was clear for three blocks, columns of national guardsponies and police were closing in on an intersection to cut off the route between the bus and the royal palace gates. All were heavily armed with assault rifles and rocket-propelled grenades.
Lyra and Bon Bon are down there! he thought. I have to help them!
The wind whipped at Pound Cake’s mane as he raced towards the bus, coughing and breathing heavily from the thick smoke all of the fires were billowing out.
Lyra and Bon Bon’s song continued over the bus loudspeakers,
“The oligarchs who run the show don’t care about us down below; they sip their wine and give us all a scoff. You’ll find them high above the streets where they look down on those in need; It’s time to climb right up and throw them off!”
The bus was closing in on the royal palace, weaving in and out of parked and abandoned cars on the street, and was now just a block and a half away. National guardsponies were tightening the noose on Lunar Boulevard, as three armored personnel carriers pulled out into the intersection to intercept the bus.
“Stop immediately, or we will fire! This is a restricted area!” the national guards called out over the loudspeaker.
Ignoring the orders, the bus continued careening forwards, its engine vrooming and roaring as it drove faster and faster.
They were half a block away. Pound Cake knew that the bus couldn’t stop in time. He had to save the riders. It was too close to the ground to do a sonic rainboom, and there were way too many innocents around, but Pound Cake still had one nonlethal move that would work at such a short distance.
He dove down at a forty-five degree angle, racing to beat the bus towards the roadblock of carriers and guardsponies, who were loading magazines into their rifles and clicking back the safeties. His mane whipped at his face, as his lungs burned in agony from the smoke and air mix. He placed both hooves out in front of himself as a white cone formed.
As Pound Cake swooped down on the roadblock, the shockwave knocked national guardsponies back, ripping guns from their hooves, as they fired blindly into the air. A rocket at the end of a launcher exploded right in the face of the pony holding it. The carriers slid a meter or two, not enough to topple over, but enough to make a gap for the bus to pass through.
“It’s time for a change to make the world a better place Put love in our hearts and smiles on our face Just a little change is all we need to save the day, to drive out all the greed and take our needs away!”
The bus passed through the intersection as the mob ran after it, beating up the dazed and dizzied national guardsponies and taking their weapons. Cars honked and swerved out of the way to avoid hitting the bus, which crashed right through the ornate brass gates of the royal palace. In the palace driveway, a black royal guard vehicle exploded into a fireball as a rocket whooshed through its window.
As the bus engine sputtered in protest, it lumbered up the driveway, past the burning car, and smashed into the grand mahogany doors. The ponies in the crowd stormed up the driveway, through the busted doors, and into the royal palace.
Twilight Sparkle and Luna stood barricaded inside of the large, formal dining hall. Dozens of protesters, rioters, and looters had swarmed into the palace, with the sound of hoofsteps outside a telltale sign that more were coming. The batponies and pegasus royal guards stood by the thick dining hall double doors, weapons in their hooves, as the banging and crashing at the doors grew louder and louder. Chefs and waiters cowered under tables.
The princesses’ horns were both glowing white with telepathic magic, as they rapidly discussed their next options far quicker than they could verbally.
“Twilight Sparkle, we must stay and fight. The rabble shan’t treat the royal palace in such an undignified manner! We are princesses and must act such!”
Twilight Sparkle glanced at the double doors, which were now bulging after being repeatedly banged on with hooves.
She shook her head. “No, Luna. It’s over. This is a lynch mob. Only one of us even has a cutie mark. We only have six guards in here with us. We don’t stand a chance against who knows how many angry people out there.”
Luna scoffed. “The great Princess Twilight, former Element of Magic, who has fought back dragons, chaotic spectres, and hordes of verminous incubi... is backing down at the sight of a mere lynch mob? Is it because you don’t have your cutie mark, and I have it? Reclaim it and fight like a valiant mare!”
Luna floated Twilight’s cutie mark back onto her flank.
Twilight sighed audibly, and replied, “This mob isn’t like that. So what, I go out horn blazing, and your guards go out crossbows blazing, and do what? Kill everypony? Yeah, that’ll look great in the media—”
Three gunshots interrupted Twilight’s thoughts. Determining that they hadn’t come into the dining room, she continued.
“Or what, arrest them all? We can’t detain hundreds of people. Not even the entire Manehattan PD can. Have you looked out the window lately? It’s a warzone!
Images of the raging street battles and riots flooded into Luna’s mind from Twilight’s.
“These thugs are now armed with shotguns, sniper rifles, and whatever weapons they’ve brought from Fillydelphia. A dozen officers have been shot, and we already have nine confirmed police fatalities tonight. Need I also remind you that Starlight Glimmer is still about? Now would be the perfect time for her to waltz into the palace unopposed and steal my mark.”
Luna rolled her eyes, but nodded. ”I suppose that you’re right, Twilight Sparkle. But this bloodthirsty mob won’t let us go quite so easily. We can’t just surrender; they’ll have our heads on the chopping blocks.”
Twilight chuckled. “Who thought anything about surrendering? Just because we shouldn’t stay and fight, doesn’t mean that we surrender. We’ll retreat. Since you’ve given back my cutie mark, I have a plan. Now, I can’t teleport us out from here, because of the faraday cage, but there’s another way out.”
She conveyed the images to Luna, who nodded.
“Batponies! Prepare to screech on my mark,” Luna commanded.
Her six guards nodded. With a flick of Twilight Sparkle’s horn, the bar in front of the door floated off, and it burst open. Twenty looters and rioters burst through the door, until Luna stretched her hoof out. The batponies screeched so loudly that it made the police unicorns’ noise spells sound like tired yawns. The intruders all fell to the floor, and the princesses ran down the long hallway towards the front door.
All around, looters had stolen or smashed priceless vases, little bits of precious porcelain littering the hardwood floor. Glass shards rained down from shattered chandeliers. Paintings were defaced, with a twirly mustache drawn on Pona Lisa, the moon on Luna’s Night stabbed through with a knife, and the cans of soup by Dandy Warhorse smeared in fecal matter.
“Soup cans aren’t art. I think it’s an improvement,” said a vandal who was busy ruining yet another expensive painting.
“Oh? I honestly can’t tell the difference,” another vandal chuckled.
An onlooker sighed, shaking his head. “To think that the princesses would spend millions on luxury items while people starve in the streets.”
“Hey, here they come! Let’s get ‘em!” said the first vandal, pointing with his hoof at the incoming princesses. But just as he did, he found himself pushed down the hallway by Twilight Sparkle’s gravity spell. She and Luna stretched their wings out, gliding on the gravitational gale until reaching the giant front doors and the broken-down tour bus. The mob pointed and shouted at the princesses, but they disappeared into the night sky, appearing several miles east, above the sea.
“That was a close call,” said Twilight Sparkle.
“Where shall we go?” asked Luna.
“My brother and Cadance have said that I’m always welcome in the Crystal Empire. Ponies there, at least, still really like me since Spike and I helped saved them from Sombra. It’s peaceful there, too, with no riots reported. I think that we can lie low until everypony in Manehattan calms down. Then, we’ll come back.”
The midday sun hung over the city of Manehattan, with the grey haze from burned out storefronts still filling the air, as firefighters battled the last of the many small fires that dotted buildings throughout downtown. The police and national guard, though, were nowhere to be seen. With nopony to direct its mass anger towards, the riot had subsided for the moment. Even the opportunistic looters from the evening before weren’t out and about. After all, only a monster would take advantage of such loss of life.
Parliamentary Square had become a scene of massive sadness and wailing, with hundreds of people crying. The wooden stage where Heartstrings and Bon Bon had played was now a makeshift memorial. On the sides hung dozens of photos of protesters who had died the evening before. Hundreds of flowers sat on the floorboards. All across downtown, protesters who’d been exuberant the prior evening and chanting slogans now desperately cried out the names of loved ones, searching through burnt tents and buildings for any sign of them.
Doctor Stable, Pound Cake, and Rainbow Dash stood near the stage, paying their respects.
“It’s so surreal… I haven’t seen anything this depressing since the war,” said Pound Cake.
“How many are dead?” asked Rainbow Dash.
Doctor Stable sighed. “It’s a tragedy. Fifty Encampment protesters were shot dead by police and national guard. Ten of the Equals died of smoke inhalation in the library. About thirty or so other civilians and bystanders on the street died in fires, by being trampled, etcetera. The police say that twelve of their guys were shot dead. Then, we have hundreds of injured on all sides.”
Pound Cake frowned. “This wasn’t a riot. This was a massacre! Somepony needs to answer for this. Spitfire, Twilight Sparkle, Luna, Sergeant Cuffs, the whole leadership!”
The people on the unusually-quiet square turned towards him, hearing his rage.
Rainbow Dash shook her head. “It’s terrible. I have good news, though. We finally got Alrica Pones’ attention. Parliament is having an emergency vote this afternoon. The lawmakers are all being dragged back from summer recess.”
Former Speaker Mare—now just Minority Leader Mare ever since her Equestrian Voters Party had lost its majority—ducked and tried not to make eye contact as she was hustled up the parliament building steps in Manehattan. Dozens of people crowded around her, most of them sobbing, but a few of them furious.
“Princess Twilight and Luna have to go!” they shouted.
“This is all you Voterites’ fault!” one pony shouted.
Minority Leader Mare’s heart skipped a beat. One more reminder that she was in danger. Though she had already figured this out when two muscular pegasi interns from the Party of Laborers arrived at her summer home in Horseshoe Bay early that morning. They’d pulled her out of bed and made her fly with them to Manehattan for an emergency vote. They were roughing her up somewhat, pulling her along her with her hooves as they escorted her into the building, but they were also shoving ponies in the crowd away who tried to get too close to her.
Why didn’t I just stay in local politics? she lamented.
A cool blast of air hit her as she entered the rotunda. Dozens more Encampment ponies stood inside, booing and jeering at her.
“You’d behehehter vote the right way!” a sheep bleated. Two unicorns with ski masks on their faces, equal signs on their flanks, and shotguns floating in their magic stood beside the chamber entrance doors. They nodded at the pegasi, and the doors swung open.
“To your seat,” the muscular pegasi barked at ML Mare, and practically shoved her down the carpeted steps.
Not one to argue, Mare took her seat on the right wing of the chamber. Other members of her party arrived slowly over the next thirty minutes. None of them wore suits or had styled their hair, and it looked like most of them had been dragged out of bed like her. One senator wore a giant bandage on his flank. Was it an unrelated accident, or had they beat him up?
Finally, Speaker and Majority Leader Alrica Pones took the floor.
“Fillies and gentlecolts, thank you for attending this emergency parliamentary session. For those who are unaware, an act of massive police violence was perpetrated here in Manehattan last night against the Encampment protesters.
“The Encampment has been peacefully protesting all summer for basic rights that all people are entitled to: sustenance, healthcare, and equality. Though there have been a few minor scuffles before, and a few bad apples, the Encampment has been vastly unarmed, vastly peaceful. Yesterday was no exception. However, acting upon orders from Twilight Sparkle, General Spitfire sent in the national guard armed with automatic weapons, flamethrowers, and rocket-propelled grenades to Manehattan.”
The crowd muttered and gasped. Even Minority Leader Mare was taken aback.
Pones continued, “During a tense standoff at the Manehattan Library, the guard opened fire on homeless ponies. This began a riot, with national guard and police given shoot-to-kill orders. As a result, over eighty ponies are now dead, with fifty of them protesters who were shot to death, the rest civilians. Almost all of the dead were unarmed. A dozen officers died as well.
“There is plenty of blame to go around. We can blame institutions like the police, national guard, or the oligarchy. We can blame individuals like General Spitfire, Sergeant Cuffs, or Police Chief Copper. We can blame our inherently unequal and unforgiving society. All of these people and institutions will be coming under scrutiny in this legislature, and I assure my Encampment friends that change will come very rapidly.
“Today, though, the people’s elected representatives will voting on one despicable institution: the monarchy. Princesses Twilight and Luna have had unquestioned, unrestrained, absolute power. This has caused deaths of innocent civilians by starvation, disease, and now, by police brutality. To change society as the Encampment seeks, we must first change its leaders. Even the worst president is better than the nicest monarch, because at least a president is accountable.
“Thus, there will be a vote on the following question: should the Princesses be removed from power and replaced with elected executives? Should Equestria become a republic?”
Minority Leader Mare tentatively asked to be heard.
“Will there be no time for a debate?” she asked.
“No,” said Alrica Pones. “The time for debate was over as soon as police fired on unarmed protesters in the streets. We vote now, Minority Leader Mare. It’s time for the people to be heard.”
“But the constitution doesn’t—”
“It will be changed!” exclaimed Alrica Pones. “You are out of order, Minority Leader Mare. Sit down!”
ML Mare shrunk back in her chair. The muscular pegasi shook their heads menacingly at her.
This vote was a mockery of Equestrian representative government, she thought. How could a proper vote be conducted with no debate, with no warning, and with thugs roughing up legislators and threatening that they’d better vote the right way or else? What would happen if she voted no to removing the monarchy? Would she be removed from parliament? Beaten up? Shot to death by an “unarmed” protester?
Minority Leader Mare didn’t want to know. She voted to abolish the monarchy. The measure passed overwhelmingly, with only a few token no votes, and about twenty abstentions. Whether or not the vote was legal de jure under the constitution was a matter for the courts, but de facto the Princesses were nowhere to be seen. Rumor had it that they’d fled to the Crystal Empire.
Equestria was no longer a monarchy, but Minority Leader Mare refused to call Alrica Pones’ unlawful government a “republic.”
“You’re listening to KKOP, Mareicopa’s premier talk radio station, owned by Tiara Media. Now for Minotaur Talk.“
A heavy metal guitar intro played through the speakers, shaking Pumpkin Cake’s desk.
A deep, gravelly voice said, “Welcome to Minotalk, I’m Iron Will. Two weeks ago, the mooching, jobless parasites of Equestria conducted a coup against the Princesses. Now, their parliament is bullying us. But Iron Will will help the exceptional, assertive citizens of Equestria through it. When somepony pushes you around, don’t take it lying down!”
Pumpkin Cake smiled as Iron Will said this. The last two weeks since the revolution in Manehattan had been exhaustingly stressful. The only things keeping her going were powerful doses of want-it, need-it every morning, talking to her friends like Vinyl Scratch, Nurse Redheart, and Walkabout… and, of course, listening to Minotaur Talk.
Iron Will was an energetic, passionate talk show host who dispensed practical life advice on his program just as much as he talked politics. He was angry when required, and motivating or upbeat when required. His main mission was developing successful, exceptional ponies though a life philosophy called Assertivism. Iron Will was one of Pumpkin’s few heroes. He reminded her of Pound Cake… that is, if Pound had ever actually built anything in his life. Both men definitely had ardor, though.
Iron Will continued, “Like tapeworms, these parasites have infected the body politic. Their puppets in parliament have given them executive positions. They have no qualifications; look at their flimsy resumes! Rainbow Dash is interim president. What’s her experience? Former Element of Loyalty? Don’t make Iron Will laugh! Where’s her loyalty to law and order in Manehattan, where seventeen cops were killed and shops were destroyed? Dash has appointed a cabal for a ‘cabinet.’ There’s interim Vice President Pound Cake. Iron Will admired the kid’s guts during the war, but he’s eighteen. Is this a government or a fraternity? Next month they’ll try to resolve the Cycles Crisis. Other countries will laugh at Equestria!”
Since the alicorns had fled, the sun and moon had still moved. Nations had hastily signed an international treaty so that the Second Duchy would do it temporarily. Given the Second Kingdom’s prior troublemaking, though, the world was hesitant to give them the job permanently. President Fancy Pants and Duchess Sparkler also were hesitant. Raising the celestial bodies everyday was taxing for unicorn team; centuries of doing the task had eventually killed even Princess Celestia herself. Thus, the treaty would expire by December. Tensions were high, and Pumpkin only hoped that Pound wasn’t assassinated. Despite all the chaos that he had wrought, she still loved her brother.
Iron Will said, “Fluttershy is promoted to the Environmental Department minister. Her regulations will become far worse. Our economy will stink forever!”
Back during Pumpkin’s prospecting days, Rarity had told her all about Fluttershy’s red tape.
Iron Will said, “Doctor Stable is interim health minister. His only qualifications are authoring a bunch of junk science papers and studies. With his medical board, he put onerous rules and regs on Equestrian doctors. Now this fascist wants to run your healthcare!” he shouted.
Pumpkin’s heart skipped a beat. If Doctor Stable wanted, he could cripple her business. In just two weeks, he’d already levied a soda sin tax, banned trans-fats from food, and banned smoking in bars and restaurants. He could similarly ban foal farms, just because he had some anti-foal farm ‘study.’ Pumpkin had followed the money. Those studies were all commissioned by doctors who had lost business to Phase Healing.
Oh, yeah, definitely no conflict of interest there, she thought. Did the EFA only oppose corruption when it suited them to? How were crooked bureaucrats any better than crooked oligarchs? Unlike government, at least ponies could boycott businesses. If ponies didn’t like greasy spoons, smoky bars, or foal farms, couldn’t they just go someplace else?
Iron Will continued, “We have a so-called ‘Minister of Equality’ now: Starlight Glimmer. Until two weeks ago, she was a wanted criminal for inciting riots, and now Dash gave her this job. She’s an insane cult leader! The Equals are bloodsucking lampreys who think that ‘equal’ means draining ponies’ special talents...”
Pumpkin seethed with rage. Professor Fossil hadn’t been the same since Starlight Glimmer had stolen his cutie mark. He’d had to resign from teaching. He’d lost his jovial good nature, his lust for life. And now, the monster who crippled him had a key cabinet position! Had Glimmer’s ominous message not worried Pumpkin that her own mark might be stolen, she would’ve already assassinated Glimmer and retrieved Fossil’s mark.
“...will enforce the newly enacted Equality Act, which mandates that employers hire and compensate without regard to species, race, creed, or cutie mark. Under the law, any employer whose racial or species makeup doesn’t match the general population is subject to penalties. That’s no joke, friends!”
Pumpkin sighed. Phase Healing’s dozens of employees were overwhelmingly equine, with a few zebras. She employed a token donkey janitor or two, but that wouldn’t be enough to please Starlight Glimmer.
Iron Will continued, “Who would you rather have fix your car, a pony with a wrench cutie mark, whose destiny is to fix cars, or an unqualified cow? If you don’t have quality, you can’t have equality. And you Encampment losers, don’t call me speciesist. Iron Will is a markless minotaur, who grew up in a poor, crime-ridden labyrinth, but Iron Will has been successful by working hard and not waiting for a handout!”
Pumpkin nodded. Did Dash’s cabal seriously expect her to hire farm animals with no medical knowledge to be healthcare professionals? Sure, if their qualifications were good, she would hire anyone of any species, but she’d yet to meet a farm animal doctor or nurse. The thick Equality Act sat on Pumpkin’s desk. It was nightmarishly-long, with complex passages about quotas, percentages, affirmations, agressions, transgressions, microaggressions, and privilege. Even Pumpkin’s lawyer could barely understand it. How was this written and passed so quickly? Did parliament even read the bills they voted for?
“We’ll be right back!”
A commercial break played, giving Pumpkin time to get some food. Ever since the thugs had burned her Manehattan clinic down, her east coast trips with Walkabout were made a lot shorter, so she now took a full hour for lunch. She’d need every minute of it. She frequently spent her ‘lunch’ just trying to keep updated about the new laws. Her lobbyists had gone to Manehattan, but they’d been scoffed at and called ‘crony fatcats.’ Maybe a letter to Pound Cake would help.
Manehattan
Rainbow Dash, Pound Cake, Doctor Stable, Raindrops, Fluttershy, Organized Labor, Big Macintosh, Lyra & Bon Bon, Featherweight, and Starlight Glimmer sat around a table in the Presidential Palace, formerly Royal Palace.
“My cabinet meeting is started,” said Interim President Rainbow Dash. “Thanks for coming, everypony.”
Starlight Glimmer sighed. “Everypony? Must you use such species-exclusionary language, President Dash? What’s wrong with ‘everybody?’”
Rainbow blushed. “Sorry, old habits, I guess ‘cause everyone in here is a pony. Where’s Jolly Doodle Donkey, by the way? He’s supposed to talk about the roads.”
Starlight Glimmer said, “The Transportation Minister’s name is simply ‘Jolly Doodle,’ with no ‘Donkey.’ I don’t call you ‘Rainbow Dash Pony,’ do I? That’s speciesist and offensive. Jolly is conducting some business; he sends his best regards.”
Pound Cake grimaced. He disagreed with almost everything in Pumpkin Cake’s recent letter, but agreed that Starlight Glimmer and Jolly Doodle had no place in the cabinet. Rainbow was rewarding the Equals’ fierce loyalty to the Revolution with cabinet appointments, but that could only take them so far. Only four percent of Encampment participants had been Equals. Why were two of the twelve cabinet spaces occupied by Equals: Glimmer and Doodle? That was sixteen percent, and didn’t seem fair to Pound.
Plus, ever since Glimmer had taken cutie marks involuntarily during the protests, and the Equals had used shotguns, Pound Cake realized that the Equals were unstable. Hopefully, in the November elections, interim-President Rainbow Dash would be elected as actual president. Then, Rainbow would make her cabinet represent the parties who’d gotten the most votes. He doubted that the Equality Party would score over five percent.
“Um, Minister Glimmer, if you don’t mind, I was going to speak about the environment. I’d really like to talk…”
“Yeah, Fluttershy hasn’t gotten her turn,” said Pound Cake, frowning. “Don’t hog all the air in the room, Minister Glimmer.”
“That’s my job!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. Everypony laughed.
“Anyway,” said Fluttershy, “I’ve written some new clean water regulations that Twilight never would’ve let me. Coal mining has contaminated Dodge Junction’s water with lead and mercury for years. Children have gotten autism, schizophrenia, all sorts of mental disorders. It’s awful, just awful! My new regs require safer mining practices.”
Everyone in the room clapped.
“Awesome!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “Now that Twilight Sparkle is gone, and Silver Spoon’s not in bed with her anymore, we can finally clean our water.”
“In bed? You could say they were... silver spooning,” said Pound Cake.
Everyone laughed.
Rainbow Dash said, “Next up, Employment Minister Organized Labor will talk about the new worker benefits.”
Organized Labor said, “The ASDF union reps and I wrote a law called the five-five-five plan. All employers must provide at least five paid days of vacation to every employee per year. Now Equestria won’t be the only industrialized nation in the world without these basic worker rights.”
“How embarrassing that was,” said Bon Bon.
“Not anymore!” Lyra Heartstrings proclaimed.
Organized Labor continued, “We’ve also mandated five weeks of paid parental leave. Now workers can have children without losing their jobs just because it’s busy season. Agricultural Minister Big Macintosh will be pleased.”
“Eeyup!”
“Even the Zebra Empire has maternity leave, and they treat their mares like chattel over there,” said Pound Cake. “We’re finally catching up!”
“Speaking of catching up with the civilized world, my universal healthcare bill is now entirely written,” said Doctor Stable. “Under the law, private insurance is outlawed, and only the government single-payer will purchase healthcare. We will keep health care spending low, because a single payer has bargaining power to set lower prices. Plus, no more inefficiencies from dozens of different insurance company billing departments and paperwork. It’ll all just go through a single, streamlined system.”
“That will also ensure that ponies don’t get better healthcare just because they spend more money,” said Starlight Glimmer. “Rich ponies shouldn’t live longer.”
“But everyone will live longer now,” Doctor Stable clarified. “Compare life expectancies in Stirrup with those in Equestria. They live, on average, two years longer than us. They get free checkups, and can have preventative care before an illness turns catastrophic. If they do get sick, they’ll never go bankrupt. They’ll get treated and get back to work.”
Pound Cake chuckled. “I just don’t get how Pumpkin wrote that universal healthcare could hurt the economy. Sounds like just the boost our economy needs!”
“Actually…” Finance Minister Featherweight started, timidly raising his hoof in the air, “The system would cause our debt to go up by billions. Fiscally, we have a deficit we need to plug.”
“Tax the rich, or just print more money,” said Pound Cake. “But wait… what about Mareicopa? What if my sister just lobbies to opt the ‘special district’ out of universal healthcare, so Phase Healing can keep raking in the dough?”
“That’s where I come in,” said Justice Minister Raindrops. “For the last two years, I’ve traced the source of illegal magic knowledge in Fillydelphia. Of all the unicorns we convicted in Filly for using illegal spells, almost a third learned them in Mareicopa. We need to revoke Mareicopa’s special status for public safety reasons.”
Pound Cake shook his head. “That’s not a good idea. Pumpkin sounded really upset in her letter. She could cause a lot of trouble with her private army. Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t since the Revolution.”
Starlight Glimmer smiled. “I scared her straight when I sent back her supporters without their cutie marks. Worst case scenario, I take Pumpkin’s cutie mark myself. Then she won’t have any ability or reason to fight.”
Pound Cake slammed his hoof into the table. “She’s my sister, you witch! I don’t care what she does; I’ll always love her. I won’t let you take her special talent, any more than I’d let you rape her. That’s too far!”
“Medically, I agree with VP Pound Cake. You’d traumatize her,” said Doctor Stable. “As much as I dislike her business model, nopony deserves to unwillingly lose their cutie mark. It’s cruelty, the same reason I oppose the death penalty.”
“Oh, speaking of, Equestria needs to abolish capital punishment like Stirrup,” said Raindrops. She turned to Starlight Glimmer. “And you’re out of line, Glimmer.”
Starlight Glimmer held her hooves up, sliding back in her chair. “Woah. Calm down, everyone, please. I was speaking hyperbolically. Of course, I’d never actually take a cutie mark from the vice president’s sister. But she doesn’t need to know that. The best counter for intangibility is misdirection.”
The cabinet fell silent for a few moments as they considered what Glimmer had just said.
“That’s... “ Pound Cake started. He put his chin on his hoof. “Uh… that’s really smart, actually. Let her think that you’ll take it. She won’t have her army put up a fight, then.”
“Maybe,” said Rainbow Dash. “Maybe not. A lot of those militia guys fought for Pumpkin just because they didn’t want their magic controlled, and still might fight on their own. We need a plan just in case repealing Mareicopa’s special status causes a problem. I’d like Spitfire to give a tactical analysis, since she’s qualified. Justice Minister Raindrops, have you finished investigating Spitfire, yet?”
Raindrops nodded. “I couldn’t find evidence that Spitfire ordered the shootings. Twilight ordered the national guard be armed in the first place. Then, Spitfire claims that armed protesters were shooting at guards. She says that individual, panicked guards fired back on their own, without her order. Given that police were shot dead, as well, I think that might be plausible.”
“I saw protesters carrying guns on the Square myself,” said Lyra Heartstrings. “But Bon Bon and I were shot at, and we were unarmed.”
“My bongos don’t count,” Bon Bon quipped.
Rainbow Dash said, “How about, if Spitfire pledges loyalty to me, I give her a pardon?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Raindrops. “I’ll submit a bill to revoke the Mareicopa special status as soon as Spitfire gives an analysis.”
Hollow Shades
In the Hollow Shades city council building, six aldermen and the mayor sat around a long table, nervously shuffling papers, gazing off into the distance, or twiddling their hooves. Their hearts beat so rapidly, that their chests were visibly thumping.
Jolly Doodle stood at the front of the room, an assault rifle slung over his back as he spoke. Two other Equals, both unarmed, stood behind him.
“...a lying letter like this. The governments in Stirrup, South Equestria, and Oatstralia have all recognized Rainbow Dash as Equestria’s legitimate president. The Princesses deserved to be removed. Yet Hollow Shades sent in this letter of concern to Manehattan about the Revolution?”
Doodle slammed the letter down on the table. The aldermen all jolted.
The mayor cleared his throat. “We’re concerned about parliament holding the removal vote while armed mobs stood just outside. A fair vote can’t happen like that. We’re also concerned about you holding us here at gunpoint, sir.”
Jolly Doodle shook his head. “The guns are to protect us against the oligarchs like Filthy Rich and their hired goons. They’re to protect us from speciesist lynch mobs. You’d be unwise to take them from us.”
“This is a shakedown,” an alderman muttered under his breath.
“Rich’s Barnyard Bargains was a shakedown!” Jolly Doodle replied. “Your corrupt, racist police shakedown farm animals everyday! You talk about ‘fair votes,’ but you put up poll taxes and literacy tests to stop non-pony voters in Hollow Shades. The Equality Act makes that illegal.”
One councilmare laughed. “Rich’s Barnyard Bargains was a legal use of eminent domain. Burning it down was the only real crime here. The Equality Act is a farce, an illegitimate law signed by an illegitimate president. Our police only arrest people when they commit crimes, which farm animals like you often do.”
Jolly Doodle scowled. The other council members gasped.
“Stop, councilmare! He’ll shoot us!” the Mayor exclaimed.
“No! I won’t give in to terrorism, mayor. Why should stupid or illiterate people be allowed to vote? They’re uninformed. Why should poor people be allowed to vote? They don’t pay taxes. What are you idiot, pauper farmies good for but crime and manual lab—”
The alderman’s colleagues leaned in towards her, putting their hooves over her mouth. Jolly, enraged, pressed his assault rifle right up against her temple.
Jolly Doodle shouted, “A new era is dawning! You each will return all campaign donations Filthy Rich ever gave you. Hollow Shades will withdraw its letter and recognize the new government. You will follow the Equality Act, and end speciesist policing and employment discrimination. You will open up your polling places to all voters unconditionally. Hollow Shades will be dragged kicking and screaming from its dark past!”
One of the Equals, a muscular bull, retrieved a small stack of papers in his mouth. His sharp, pointy horns glinted under the fluorescent light, and the aldermen flinched as he leaned in and placed the papers in front of the mayor.
“These are local ordinances to bring Hollow Shades into the future. Sign on the dotted line, Mayor,” said Jolly Doodle.
The mayor, a unicorn, hastily floated a pen over towards the papers and signed them all, scribbling his name so quickly that he tore a few of them.
Jolly Doodle smiled. “See how easy it is when you cooperate?”
Jolly and his two Equals left the room, the councilmembers inside still cowering in fear. On a sheet of paper that listed about a dozen large and medium cities and small towns in Equestria, Jolly ticked a box next to “Hollow Shades.”
“Where to next, boss?” asked the bull.
“Ponyville, where I used to live,” said Jolly, glancing at the list. “Let’s go chat with Cheerilee.”
Interim President Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake sat in Rainbow’s office. She had cleaned out all of Twilight’s old possessions: her magic school diploma, books, old checklists, and a bust of Starswirl the Bearded. She had replaced them with flight school medals, a picture of a tornado, and a bust of Daring Do. The old purple-and-blue Equestrian flag depicting the royal pony sisters had also been replaced with the Equestrian Republic’s new national flag. It was now a tri-color, with blue on the top, red in the middle, and green on the bottom. Blue represented the sky above, the new day dawning after the Revolution. Red represented equality, the same red blood that flowed through all of Equestria’s people of all species and races. Green represented the environment, the grass and earth below that the equal citizens would care for and nourish.
General Spitfire entered the office and sat down.
“We’re concerned about your loyalty, General Spitfire” said Rainbow Dash.
Spitfire shook her head. “I don’t understand. You think I’m still loyal to the princesses?”
Pound nodded. “You did swear your allegiance to them, after all.”
Rainbow said, “Even though we didn’t connect you to the shootings, we still have doubts.”
Spitfire chuckled. “There should be no concerns, madam president. I pledged an oath of allegiance not to defend Twilight, but to defend Equestria. I’d do that no matter who was in charge or what they believed. I’d do that whether Equestria was a monarchy or a republic. My country, above all else, is the most important thing to me, not its leaders. I think you know that, Pound Cake.”
“Good,” said Pound. “And yeah, I remember you were always patriotic back in Cloudsdale, telling pegasi to vote against secession.”
Rainbow Dash said, “I’ll sign a pardon and let you stay a general, but if I find out that you lied about those shootings, I’ll throw you in jail.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I never ordered protesters to be shot. I didn’t even do that in Tall Tale and Vanhoover when the Zebras invaded,” said Spitfire.
“Speaking of that,” said Rainbow. “What’s your plan for retaking those cities?”
General Spitfire explained the plan.
Pound Cake’s jaw dropped. “You blew up the dam and killed all the Diamond Dogs?”
Spitfire held up a hoof. “Princess Twilight ordered it. The Diamond Dogs had threatened to dig under major cities and detonate nerve gas bombs. Twilight felt that taking ten thousand lives to save hundreds of thousands was a good trade.”
“I guess I can see that,” said Rainbow. “I mean, the Encampment is all about benefiting the many, not the few.”
“It’s still awful they all died, even puppies,” said Pound.
Spitfire sighed. “It wasn’t easy to do, even though we justified it. The same thing was true of the zebra internment, or our decision to bomb Sweet Apple Acres. I hated making those choices, but again, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to preserve Equestria.”
“What about Mareicopa?” asked Pound Cake. “We’re worried about my sister’s militia.”
Spitfire laughed. “Where should I even start with those clowns? The Mareicopa Militia might have numbered a thousand, but they were incompetent. They didn’t even know how to use all that armor that Pumpkin captured. They helped us to defend Tall Tale, but never actually won any battles.”
“To be fair, the EFA didn’t win any battles there, either,” said Pound Cake. “The Zebras were pretty strong.”
“Could the militia have gotten training since the war?” asked Rainbow Dash.
Spitfire shrugged. “I’m not sure. Pumpkin Cake is a billionaire, so she could easily afford to train them. They might be better trained now, but their numbers are still low unless she’s hired more of them. I don’t know why she’d do that, since it’s been peacetime for two years. If anything, she’d cut back, just like Equestria’s military has.”
Pound chuckled. “A money-grubber like my sister, keeping thousands of soldiers on the payroll in peacetime? Somehow, I doubt it.”
“Pumpkin’s intangibility spell did always concern me, though,” said General Spitfire. “She got those vehicles by phasing treads off of tanks and stranding the SK out in the desert. They fled, and she retreaded the tanks. If she wanted, she could single-hornedly disable an entire armored battalion.”
“Pumpkin’s been scared straight. I don’t think she’ll pose a threat,” said Pound Cake. “We’re mostly talking about her militia going rogue if we bring magic laws to Mareicopa.”
Spitfire laughed. “Let me put it this way. Without Pumpkin, the militia is nothing. Their funding will dry up, they won’t be paid, and only the most radical will keep fighting: a few hundred ponies at most. Versus the Equestrian military, which is three hundred thousand ponies. The Copa Militia could be a thorn in Equestria’s side, but could never hold a big city like Mareicopa by themselves. I think we have bigger concerns than them, like recapturing Tall Tale and Vanhoover. Now that will be a challenge, but still doable.”
The office door burst open.
“President Dash,” said Minister Raindrops. “I’ve received word from Hollow Shades that Jolly Doodle took a rifle to a city council meeting. He threatened them into accepting your legitimacy and implementing the Equality Act.”
Rainbow raised her eyebrows. “I appreciate the endorsement, but—”
“He’s a loose cannon!” Pound Cake cut in. “All of the Equals are. I’ve been trying to warn you. How long until the Equals are out on the Square again, but this time, throwing us out? We aren’t radical enough for them. Jolly Doodle isn’t in Hollow Shades for us; he’s there for his own agenda, Starlight Glimmer’s agenda. They’ll throw you under the bus as soon as they’re done using you to advance.”
“I agree,” said Raindrops. “We can’t let the Equals just do their own thing. That’s insubordination.”
Spitfire nodded. “Like we were discussing, we can bring cities like Hollow Shades or Mareicopa into line with our regular military if needed. Before it ever comes to that, though, hopefully we can be diplomatic and talk them into peacefully recognizing our government. Either way, there’s no need for lone wolves to go intimidate city councils.”
“Only a few local governments wrote letters like Hollow Shades did,” said Pound Cake. “What towns are left?We should put guys in those towns to intercept Jolly Doodle before he causes more trouble.”
“That sounds like a plan. Thanks for your help, guys,” said Rainbow Dash. Then, she glanced down at her desk, and picked up the phone. “Hello, Receptionist? Call in the doctors for a photo op. I have a universal healthcare bill to sign.”
Mareicopa
“...tyrannical Universal Care Act says you can’t even buy health insurance anymore! Only the single-payer can. What if you’re in a long line, like in the Uneighted Kingdom, and you want to pay for faster care? Well too damn bad, because you’ll die on that waiting list! A bureaucratic death panel will deny your treatment. To them, it’s not ‘fair’ if you get better, faster care just because you have money. Worthless bums on the street now have the same healthcare as you, when you’ve worked your whole life! They call that system ‘fair?’ This system will grow our debt by billions, and your grandchildren will have to pay for it. Don’t like Rainbowcare? One of the fascist Equal termites will come shake you down like the donkey did in Hollow Shades!” Iron Will shouted through the speakers.
Pumpkin Cake paced back and forth in her office, her teeth clenched in rage. With a single stroke of a pen, this phony president had outlawed her entire business model! Private insurance and cash payments for healthcare were now illegal. The law even had a clause specifically banning foal farms. Due to Mareicopa’s special status, Pumpkin still had her main clinic for now, but losing all of her east coast clinics would hurt.
Despite that, Doctor Stable claimed that universal healthcare was more affordable? Nonsense. Pumpkin only ran Phase Healing to make a profit, and did it far cheaper than regular hospitals. Were she only paid like a regular doctor, she would quit, and then all of the extra cost would be eaten by the system and taxpayers.
If they really wanted to bring down health costs, they could’ve reformed the malpractice system, medical licensing system, or the prescription drug patent system. They could’ve ended corn subsidies that had helped Equestria have the highest obesity rate in the world. These government regulations had all skyrocketed the cost of care. Now this same government wanted to solve the problem that their own regulations had caused... with more regulations! When did the regulations end? Pumpkin knew: they didn’t. The Encampment parasites would never be satisfied until everypony was an “equal” shell like Professor Fossil. A welfare state would inevitably lead to tyranny, she thought.
Iron Will continued, “This just in: Parliament is considering revoking Mareicopa’s special status. All federal Equestrian laws would apply to Mareicopa, should the special status be revoked. For all of my Mareicopa listeners, this includes the magic laws and new healthcare law.”
Pumpkin’s head spun. Surely the parliament wouldn’t revoke the special status law that had let Mareicopa peacefully rejoin Equestria. Even they couldn’t be that stupid.
“IT’S SICK!” Iron Will roared in his minotaur voice. “Attention, Equestria! We have one last chance to stop this parasite infestation. It’s time for some pest control. This Saturday afternoon, all of Equestria’s hardworking citizens, gather in the parks and squares wherever you live, in every city of the nation. Carry signs. Bring your whole family. Please, obey all local laws. Don’t antagonize the police, don’t riot, and stay peaceful. On Saturday, let’s show that we aren’t thugs like these Encampment cockroaches in Manehattan. Let’s make our voices heard!”
Pumpkin Cake’s heart raced. She wanted to attend the rally, but a thought made her pause briefly. Equals could attack the rally. Jolly Doodle could show up with his gun. Starlight Glimmer might steal Pumpkin’s cutie mark. With Glimmer also having intangibility powers, Glimmer could follow Pumpkin anywhere she tried to hide, and could evade Pumpkin’s counterattacks.
Then again, Pumpkin had sat idle for three weeks, not doing anything out of fear of Starlight Glimmer, and what had that gotten her? Her business was now outlawed, and soon her magic itself would be illegal. Having her cutie mark stolen was a risk she took in standing against this runaway, fascist government. But if she didn’t act, her special talent would be useless anyway. So she would go, and would bring her friends.
The hot August sun beat down on Mareicopa’s Saguaro Park on Saturday. The park was too big to have grass in this climate, so it was mostly landscaped rocks and gravel with a few bushes and saguaro cacti. The park filled with angry ponies, tens of thousands of them congregating for Iron Will’s Pest Control rally. Other large cities across Equestria were having similar rallies, like Applewood, Albuckerque, Horseshoe Bay, even Manehattan. Mareicopa’s rally was the biggest, though.
All throughout the city, retirement and assisted living facilities had emptied out. The elderly residents took to the streets, terrified of the government seizing their healthcare. They walked and held signs that shook in their hooves, their white and grey manes shimmering in the sun. Those with walkers affixed signs to the front of them The signs said things like, “Don’t leave granny out to die,” “Repeal Rainbowcare,” and “Stop the death panels!” In keeping with the pest control theme, a few of them who had oxygen tanks had painted them to look like giant insecticide canisters.
“Hooves off our health care!” they all shouted.
Mareicopa, as a warm and sunny retirement destination, had a high percentage of geriatric residents. So did the rally. Of course, not only the elderly attended the Pest Control rally. Many residents of all ages stood, a high percentage of them unicorns. They levitated signs in the air that said “Only from my cold, dead horn” to protest the proposed return of Equestrian magic laws to Mareicopa. Some of the earth ponies and pegasi in the crowd had rifles and shotguns slung over their backs, to protest the strict Equestrian firearm laws. Similar to magic laws, these would also be extended to Mareicopa were its special status repealed. Many protesters carried bug zappers in their hooves like lanterns, and a few wore white jumpsuits and exterminators’ gas masks. Some covered their cutie marks in flypaper to mock the Equals.
As in Manehattan, not a single old monarchy flag was present. But instead of flying the new Equestrian Republic tricolor, the Pest Control protesters flew other flags. Some of them flew the orange and purple bicolor Mareicopa city flag. A few of them carried Morley Cigarettes banners that had been taken down from Chupacabra Stadium ever since Doctor Stable had banned tobacco sponsorship of national sports leagues. Two or three old Second Kingdom flags even stuck out like red and black sore hooves. But most of the flag-wavers flew a flag of a bright yellow field with a black, X-shaped cross over it.
The yellow flag had originated in 2012, after changelings had invaded Equestria’s then-capital of Canterlot. Ponies flew the flags to support Equestrian soldiers fighting the Changeling Collective in the southern Badlands. The flag’s exact origin or symbolism was unknown. Some vexillologists thought it represented yellowjackets. Despite being colonizing wasps themselves, yellowjackets hunted smaller insects like flies—”flies” being a common anti-changeling slur. Others thought the flag represented yellow caution tape that insect exterminators might string around places they’d bombed with pesticides—a call for outright genocide against the changelings. For that reason, the flag was controversial. But it now took on a new meaning for the Pest Control movement: a statement against the actions of Rainbow Dash’s interim government.
The Pest Control crowd in the park swelled to thirty thousand. They cheered as Iron Will himself arrived. He stood atop a portable wooden stage. His towering, burly minotaur body glistened in the sunlight, as he flexed his biceps. Several mares swooned and giggled at the sight, and a few of them tried to get in closer to the buff idol, until his white goat security guards bleated and pushed them back.
“Hello, Copa!” he shouted.
The crowd cheered.
He said, “Today, we speak out against the illegitimate fascists in Manehattan, the parliament’s laws, and the cabal’s regulations. You know what I always say… if somepony tries to knock you out…”
“Stand up and shout!” the crowd called back.
Iron Will smiled. “Each of you can be happy, rich, and successful through assertiveness. You assert yourself when you work sixty-hour weeks and negotiate a raise or business deal. You assert yourself when you save up your money, live frugally, and fight back your spendthrift impulses. You assert yourself when you don’t let bullies push you around and steal from you. Nopony will stand up for you… but you! Each of us has but one duty, to ourselves, to be the best individuals possible. No one else has the obligation to build you up! To the Encampment, that might seem scary. Too much work, they’d say. What will they do with no safety net? But to Iron Will, to us, Assertivism is the only fulfilling answer. Who else can better take care of our own needs than ourselves?”
“Nopony!” the crowd shouted back.
“So-called Communications Chairpony Lyra Heastrings warned me to tone down my rhetoric. She says that it’s ‘inflammatory hate speech’ when Iron Will calls them parasites, and it violates her new radio regulations.”
The crowd booed.
“But Iron Will won’t give in. The fascists won’t suppress free speech!”
The crowd cheered.
He continued, “The parasites in Manehattan refuse to build or produce anything of value. Though they scream, cry, and pillage, they’re not truly assertive: they’re destructive. They’re jealous of our hard-earned success, and they’re only happy when they bring others down to wallow with them in misery. We have a few speakers today, and the first will outline the fascist threat posed by the Equals.”
Vinyl Scratch and Professor Fossil walked on the stage. Vinyl looked as chipper as ever, but Professor Fossil hung his head low, not bothering to make eye contact with anybody.
“Yo, everypony, I’m Vinyl Scratch, AKA DJ Pon3,” said Vinyl Scratch. “Thanks for letting me talk. A month ago, I took my ravers, Professor Fossil, his students, and some of the retirees to Manehattan to counter-protest the Encampment. It was, like, insane. Starlight Glimmer kidnapped thirty of my raver guys and swooped their cutie marks. She snatched Professor Fossil’s cutie mark!”
The crowd booed as Fossil displayed the equal sign Glimmer had placed on his flank.
“They’re coming to steal our marks!” one mare hysterically screamed.
Vinyl continued, “Now Fossil can’t even teach or do, like, fossil stuff anymore. He can’t go back in time and learn about the past anymore. For what? Who did this help? Who does this make better?”
Professor Fossil briefly looked up, despair on his face.
“I just want my mark back,” he muttered.
The crowd grew dead silent. They gave a respectful golf clap as Vinyl Scratch and Professor Fossil stepped down.
Iron Will said, “Our next speaker will tell us what happens if the unicorns surrender their magic.”
Walkabout teleported on stage. “G’day, Mareicopa. I’m Walkabout, from Oatstralia originally. Years ago, my home country was like Copa, where unicorns could freely use magic. One day, a lone unicorn conducted a terrible massacre with magic. The legislature in Campdrafta overreacted and banned heaps of spells: shapechanging, mind alteration, and invisibility. They even banned teleportation, me special talent. But did they stop criminals? No! They’ve just made everypony else defenseless. And since then, the Oatstralian pollys have passed hundreds of rubbish laws, the same sort Manehattan is passing, because they’ve magically disahmed the populace and don’t have to fear a revolt. It’s a bloody penal colony again. Never let them take your magic, Mareicopa! I will stand with you!”
The crowd cheered as Walkabout zapped off of the stage in a flash of light.
Iron Will said, “Our next guest will tell us facts about government-controlled medicine that Rainbow Dash doesn’t want you to hear!”
Nurse Redheart took the stage. “I’m Nurse Redheart, and I worked at Saint Prancis under Second Kingdom rule in this city. Blueblood took over the hospitals just like Manehattan wants to do. But the quality of care didn’t increase; it went down. Long lines and doctor shortages crippled our ability to deliver care. Non-unicorn babies were aborted as part of Blueblood’s genocidal campaign. We had to unplug the elderly from assisted living because his troops ‘needed’ our care more. The government wants to control health care not because they’re compassionate, but because it lets them control you. If a bureaucrat on an unelected panel decides whether or not a doctor treats you, he decides whether you live or die. If you’re inconvenient to the government, whether because you’re too old and expensive for the single payer to treat, or because your politics disagree, the death panel will let you die. Take it from me, never let the government control medicine.”
The crowd cheered Nurse Redheart as she left the stage.
Iron will exclaimed, “...Aaaaand now, to talk about the city’s special status, please welcome… the Magician of Mareicopa, the Phase Healer, the one and only… PUMPKIN CAKE!”
Pumpkin walked up on stage as the crowd cheered, louder for her than for anypony else who’d been on stage before her except Iron Will himself. It took about a minute for them to calm down.
“Thank you, Mareicopa,” said Pumpkin Cake, smiling. “In my eighteen years, I’ve been to cities and towns all over Equestria. I was born and raised in Ponyville and the Everfree, came of age in Appleloosa, started my professional career in Tall Tale, and opened Phase Healing clinic branches along the east coast in the major population centers: Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Baltimare. But of all of the places that I’ve been, none is as great as Copa!”
“Copa! Copa! Copa!” the crowd chanted.
Pumpkin continued, “This city understands the value of true freedom, hard work, and self-determination. While the rest of Equestria has suffered a recession, Mareicopa has weathered the storm. While Manehattan, Fillydelphia, and Baltimare were burning this summer, Mareicopa stayed peaceful, with no arson or looting.”
The crowd cheered.
“Mareicopa’s special status lets us be free. Taxes are low, and our local economy is booming. Doctors can practice medicine without crushing regulations like Rainbowcare, and at Phase Healing, I do procedures at a third the cost of a typical hospital. Unicorns can cast all types of magic spells, law-abiding residents can own guns for protection, and thanks to that, Mareicopa has the lowest violent crime rate of any major Equestrian city. We in Mareicopa value our freedom and our self-rule. To the mob parliament and the pretender Dash, I warn that repealing our special status would be a terrible mistake.”
Everypony cheered as Pumpkin left the stage. The Pest Control rally continued into the evening.
Silverstar walked through the ruined streets of Appleloosa, his eyes taking in the broken wooden skeletons of the place he had called home for so many years. The wind whistled through the gaps in the beams and rafters. The smell of apple mush still filled the air, bringing a tear to Silverstar’s eye. Normally, he’d never ever cry, but nopony else was here but Applejack, and she was crying too. They finally reached their destination in the town: Silverstar’s old sheriff’s office.
“It ain’t just Appleloosa or Canterlot anymore,” said Silverstar, as he he picked up a piece of rubble, tossing it aside.
“Nope. Now the fascists are everywhere, wreckin’ everything. Manehattan or Horseshoe Bay don’t look too different from Appleloosa, now,” said Applejack. She bucked a rafter out of the way with her hind legs, still strong after many years of a sedentary lifestyle.
Silverstar picked up his old wooden door, which had a silver star painted on it. He shook his head as the memories flooded back, and paused from his task for a moment.
“You gotta focus, Silverstar,” said Applejack. “We get a second chance, remember.”
Finally, Silverstar nodded. “You’re right, AJ. We get a second chance, and we ain’t gonna let it happen again.”
He gently set his old door aside and kept digging through the rubble.
Ponyville Town Hall
Much like Mayor Mare before her, Mayor Cheerilee never had a strong desire to become mayor of Ponyville. She had only run for the position at the urging of the townspeople, who adored her. As a local elementary school teacher for decades, many of the voters personally knew and trusted her, and she won in a landslide. Cheerilee was happy to be a public servant to the community.
While living in Ponyville, Cheerilee had seen many crises befall the town, more than one would expect for Ponyville’s small size. Most small towns never recorded so much as a single homicide. But in Ponyville’s last twenty years, there’d been an infestation by parasprites, an attack of illogic by a chaos spirit, a brief dictatorial reign by a mad stage performer, and a military invasion and subsequent apartheid by a unicorn king.
Despite all that Cheerilee had seen, having a gun shoved in her face by a scowling donkey was an entirely new, frightening experience.
“This letter to Manehattan is unacceptable, Mayor Cheerilee. You will immediately recognize the interim government! You’ll also change the name of this town, since ‘Ponyville’ is speciesist,” he demanded.
Cheerilee gulped, but she remembered how she’d taught her students to deal with bullies: be firm.
“No.”
His mouth opened, probably to issue another threat, but she repeated herself.
“No!”
He laughed. “Don’t you realize your position?”
Cheerilee sighed. “If you want to kill me, then just go ahead. Otherwise, I’m not revoking my letter. Let me teach you some history. This town was founded by earth ponies, hence the name, but all species are welcome here. Years ago, you even lived here yourself. This town was founded on a land grant from the monarchy. Twilight and Luna are still my princesses and still legitimate, Cranky—”
“It’s Jolly, now. I’ve changed a lot since I moved from Ponyville,” said Jolly Doodle.
Cheerilee rolled her eyes. “Oh really? I couldn’t tell. I think your old name suited you better.”
Humor was another tactic that bullies hated.
He frowned. “There is nothing legitimate about the princesses, mayor. One of them tried to shroud the planet in eternal darkness a thousand years ago, and tried to do it again when she returned just twenty years ago, and you all just trusted her like that never happened? The other princess is even younger than me, and was selling out Equestria to corrupt business interests. She ordered unarmed people to be shot dead.”
“Imagine that,” said Cheerilee, eyeing the gun.
“Parliament, on the other hoof, was elected by Equestria just last year, and is accountable to their constituents. They are far more legitimate than princesses-for-life. In an overwhelming vote, parliament appointed Rainbow Dash as interim president before the next elections. You will recognize her.”
“No. Do I have to repeat myself again?”
Jolly opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Cheerilee’s office door burst open. He turned around. In the doorframe stood a brawny white pegasus with stubby wings, holding a pistol.
“Lower your weapon, Jolly,” he ordered.
“No, Bulky Biceps.”
“Lower your weapon!”
“Can’t you see, I’m getting Cheerilee to recognize our new government! We can’t have mayors still pledging fealty to deposed monarchs.”
Bulky Biceps shrugged. “I have my orders from Dash and Cake. You’re coming with me.”
“Is that right?”
Jolly Doodle pointed his weapon down to the floor and took a step towards Bulky Biceps, his eyes narrowed.
Biceps didn’t flinch. Doodle took another step, then another. Finally, the two angry men were so close that they could feel each other’s heated breath.
Doodle said, “Well… what if I don’t?”
Doodle’s right hoof jerked at his gun. Before he could point it up at Biceps, Biceps fired at his front leg. Cheerilee ducked behind her desk.
Undeterred, Jolly Doodle reached for his gun with his good hoof, but Biceps shot him again, this time in the chest, knocking him back and splattering blood on the back wall. As Jolly flew back, his automatic weapon fired off into the air, punching holes in Cheerilee’s office ceiling and breaking her fan. Bulky Biceps pumped several more shots into Jolly Doodle, hitting him in the torso with loud, squishy pops.
Bulky Biceps walked over and checked Jolly Doodle’s pulse to ensure that he was dead. After confirming, he ripped Cheerilee’s monarchy flag from its pole, wrapping Doodle’s dead body in it. He heaved the body over his back and left the room, with neither he nor Cheerilee saying a word.
“Oh gosh, what happened here?”
Derpy Hooves’ eyes scanned Cheerilee’s office, one eye pointing down towards the blood on the floor, the other up towards the gunshot holes in the ceiling.
Cheerilee sighed. “Some Manehattan thugs had a shootout in my office. That letter you delivered apparently displeased them.”
Derpy lowered her head. “Sorry... I’m only the message girl…”
Cheerilee shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Derpy. People just like to come to Ponyville and start trouble.”
Derpy giggled. “Good point. You know, uh, for such a small town, Ponyville sure has lotsa crazy stuff that happens. I mean, let’s think… Nightmare Moon came here, Discord came here, the war with the Second Kingdom started here...”
“We’re a locus for Equestria’s ills,” said Cheerilee. “As a town in Equestria’s heartland, near a strategic river, near Canterlot, we suffer more than other places.”
Derpy nodded along as Cheerilee talked. “Yep. Mmhmm. And, uh… what does ‘locus’ mean?”
Cheerilee laughed nervously. “It means that we have to secure the town, that’s what. Rallies, riots, revolutions… I even hear rumors of war. We can’t let it spread to Ponyville. Not this time. We’ll learn from our chaotic past, and this time, we’ll be the island of serenity in the ocean of turmoil. We’ll protect ourselves.”
“You mean, you’ll protect yourselves,” Derpy corrected. “I’m neutral, remember? My politics are like my eyes… they don’t pick any one side.”
Cheerilee sighed. “I’ve tried to tell you before, Derpy. A person can’t be neutral; only countries or cities can. You might fly all over the world delivering diplomatic messages, but you still live in Ponyville, and you’ll still be judged by whatever policy your town or country takes. In this coming storm, Ponyville will be neutral...”
Derpy beamed.
“...but I’ll need your help to make it so. You’ll help stop the thugs coming here from Manehattan, or Canterlot, or Mareicopa, or wherever else.”
Derpy’s jaw dropped. “We’re just a town of five thousand! How can we stand up against big ol’ cities like those?”
Cheerilee smiled. “We do what Ponyville is best at. We stand together. Now go get the three Crusaders; I have a job for them.”
Baltimare
“...and above all, he tirelessly supported the cause of equality. We shall miss him dearly. Fare thee well, Jolly Doodle.”
Hundreds of people dressed in black gathered around outside of the Warehouse, crying and sobbing as Starlight Glimmer levitated Jolly Doodle’s casket into the ground. They all threw hooffulls of dirt down onto it.
After giving the eulogy, and after the mourners all paid their respects, Starlight Glimmer left the funeral for her office. Pound Cake sat inside, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.
Glimmer demanded, “What do you want? Can’t you see that we’re all grieving here?”
Pound rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, they all look really sad. But how about that giant crowd of Equals outside of the Manehattan Presidential Palace? You know, the ones protesting Jolly Doodle’s death? They don’t seem very sad. They seem angry… like they might want a putsch! Equals were only four percent of the Revolution. You don’t get to threaten people with guns, either parliament or local councils. You don’t get two seats on Rainbow Dash’s cabinet. This is a republic, not a junta. If you want more power, you gotta earn it at the ballot box just like everybody else. Even Rainbow Dash and the Party of Laborers have to win an election. Give up violence, get campaigning, register to vote in November, and get your punk asses off the street!”
“I don’t appreciate that anti-donkey slur,” said Glimmer. “We have the right to protest. We have the right to violence if required. What will you do if I tell you no?”
“Glad you asked,” said Pound. “You know that humongous glass container with all the marks? It’d be a cryin’ shame if a giant, colorful explosion shattered the glass and everypony’s cutie marks flew back to them, and then you died like Doodle.”
Glimmer scowled. Pound Cake nodded. He turned around towards the door, turned back, and smiled.
“See you at the next cabinet meeting, minister!”
He flew off.
Mareicopa
Rainbow Dash’s scratchy voice carried through the speakers like a rusty razor blade slicing at Pumpkin’s eardrums.
“Hello, Equestria. Today, I will address the positive changes occurring in our nation. We’ve made tremendous strides this past month. Our government is no longer ruled by unelected princesses or secret councils. Donkeys, sheep, and cattle are now legally equal to ponies. Workers now have livable jobs thanks to new benefits like parental leave, guaranteed pensions, and paid vacations. Our workplaces and environment will be healthy and clean thanks to new regulations on water, food, air, and tobacco. Just recently, Equestria extended universal healthcare to all of its citizens.”
Loud cheering played.
Dash continued, “Despite these advancements, some people in Equestria—a loud minority—insist on staying stuck in the past. They go to ‘Pest Control’ rallies and make hateful speeches, fly hateful flags, and cause alarm. They talk about coups, cabals, fascists, parasites, bloated debt, and death panels. These words are just dog whistles. Here’s the facts.
“Twilight Sparkle and Luna were removed after an overwhelming popular demonstration, not a ‘coup.’ After months of police brutality and corruption, the parliament voted them out. This parliament is the exact same one that Equestrians elected just over a year ago. Nothing’s changed, except that it’s me signing the bills into law instead of the monarchy vetoing them. My cabinet is appointed openly, with parliamentary oversight, far better than Twilight’s old Economic Council. It’s hardly a ‘cabal.’ Fresh parliamentary and presidential elections will occur in November. Judging by early opinion polls, the Party of Laborers will win over sixty percent of the national vote.”
Idiots, Pumpkin thought. The masses were ill-informed, and didn’t inherently desire freedom. Blueblood had been popularly elected, too, she recalled.
Dash continued, “We’ll increase social programs, tax the rich, and make Equestria more egalitarian for everybody. That’s hardly ‘fascism,’ and a far cry from the warmongering, racist Blueblood. Perhaps the Pest Control movement should look in the mirror. The true fascists are those who call their fellow people ‘parasites’ for merely wanting rights to sustenance. Fascists fly yellowjacket flags that were once used to call for the extermination of an entire species, the changelings, then also labeled ‘parasites.’”
Pumpkin laughed. The yellowjacket flag was no genocidal call. It was a call to resist thieves, whether they stole love, magic, or money. If the changelings had wanted to, they could’ve openly traded honest services for love. Perhaps they could’ve used their shape-changing powers to become adored fashion models, actors, or comedians. Instead, they attacked Canterlot to parasitically steal love. Pumpkin saw little difference between them and the cabal.
Dash continued, “Fatcats like Filthy Rich, the Oranges, JSUC, Diamond Tiara, and Pumpkin Cake are the only real parasites here. They lobbied Twilight Sparkle for crony, favorable treatment like low taxes, perpetual war, eminent domain, and special districts. They made billions of dollars off the people. Nevertheless, they refuse to repay their fair share to the society that let them be so successful to begin with. That’s who I call parasites.”
Pumpkin felt the rage returning from when the picketers had protested her clinic. She’d paid millions in taxes over the years, worked on thousands of charity cases at Phase Healing, and Rainbow Dash still had the gall to say that she hadn’t paid her ‘fair share?’ Would only Pumpkin’s total slavery satisfy this parasite president?
Rainbow Dash continued, “Now, the oligarchs are funding these rallies to save their own exploitative system. After all, they live off of ensuring that their workers are unhealthy, underpaid, and overworked, so that they have no choice but to work more. That’s why they oppose the new healthcare law. But they lie. Nobody will be denied treatment, and there won’t be ‘death panels.’ That term is a scare tactic made up by insurance company and health provider business interests. All people will be treated.”
Pumpkin laughed. Hundreds of cancer patients had flown to Equestria from Stirrup and the Crystal Empire to pay Phase Healing for care. Many of their tumors that she’d removed could’ve easily been removed by a regular surgeon with a scalpel. The patients all said similar things: either they were on a long waiting list and didn’t want to die before receiving treatment, or some bureaucrats had denied them treatment because the surgery didn’t have a high enough chance of success to justify its cost. If those weren’t death panels, what were?
Rainbow Dash continued, “We won’t go into ‘bloated debt’; we’ll actually save money by outlawing private insurance. Every other advanced nation has universal healthcare, and their citizens love it. They spend half as much per capita as Equestria does, and they live two years longer! Now, to ensure that our health system is truly fair and universal, we can’t let certain places opt out.”
Oh no, thought Pumpkin.
“A few years ago, Mareicopa was liberated from Second Kingdom rule. The city was given a special status by Twilight Sparkle to ease its transition back into Equestria. However, this status has made Mareicopa a haven for illegal firearms, banned magic, and unlicensed medical services. Thus, parliament has passed a bill to revoke Mareicopa’s special status, effective immediately. All national laws will now apply there.”
No. This couldn’t be happening.
“Hopefully, with my address to the nation today, Equestria understands our rationale behind all of the recent laws, and why the Pest Control rallies are nothing more than dangerous fear-mongering. I also hope that you’re as excited about Equestria’s future as I am, and that you all vote in November. Thank you!”
Pumpkin stomped the ground with her hoof, screaming into the air. The cabal just kept pushing. They just didn’t listen to her. Instead of Sweet Apple Acres or the research center basement, the fascists had made the entire ‘Equestrian Republic’ into Pumpkin’s prison, now, one that intangibility couldn’t get her out of.
The announcer said, “And now back to Mareicopa’s number one talk station, KKOP. The regularly-scheduled broadcast, Minotaur Talk, has been preempted indefinitely. By order of National Communications Council Chairpony Lyra Heartstrings, we have removed the show for spreading hate speech and inciting inter-species violence. Instead, we bring you an exciting public-domain radio drama by Horseson W—”
Pumpkin fired an energy beam at the radio, and it exploded with a sizzling crackle, the smell of melted plastic filling the air. Her favorite talk show was banned, and that meant one thing.
The time for talking was over.
Dozens of tanks and APCs and hundreds of trucks zoomed through the streets of Mareicopa, carrying well-armed ponies atop. The soldiers all wore matching, tan desert camouflage in the newest style. They wore facemasks over their muzzles that were common in Mareicopa during sandstorms, though the sky was clear. Their guns had no magazines in them. No logos, flags, or other decorations adorned their armor or uniforms. Despite that, everypony in Mareicopa knew exactly who had sent the tan soldiers, and most of them were as happy as could be.
At the police precinct houses across town, tanks and trucks sat in the parking lots alongside the regular squad cars. Mareicopa police officers stood outside with the soldiers, chatting with them and smoking cigarettes like they were long-time colleagues. One officer laughed and slapped his knee after a funny joke.
A few tan soldiers walked on hoof down the sidewalks of town. Locals came out of their houses to hug the soldiers and shake their hooves.
“Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it!” one mother unicorn, holding a baby in her magic, cried. She ran over and embraced a soldier, a pegasus, in her hooves.
The mother rambled, “As soon as the coup happened and I heard about Glimmer stealing those ravers’ marks Manehattan, and I heard about those Equals threatening councils with guns, I knew that soon, the fascists would come to Copa to steal everyone’s cutie marks. You’re our saviors!”
She finally released him from her grasp.
“Can I get a picture of you holding my child?”
He nodded, and took the foal under his wing as the mother levitated a camera up.
“Say cheese!”
The soldier said nothing, and if he had been smiling, it wouldn’t have been visible with his facemask on, but she snapped the picture regardless.
“You guys aren’t real talkers, huh?”
He shook his head, and returned the child to its mother.
“Well, thank you so much!” she exclaimed. The soldier nodded and walked along.
Meanwhile, a column of twelve trucks, six APC’s, and six tanks roared towards the Mareicopa special district legislature building. Dozens of locals tagged along after the vehicles, cheering on the soldiers. The vehicles encircled the building from all sides, while about twenty soldiers marched up the red sandstone stairs to the doors.
Before the soldiers could enter, however, a crowd of ten reporters from various newspapers and radio stations blocked them, asking a barrage of questions and snapping pictures.
“Who are you?”
“What are you doing?”
“Who sent you here? Are you from Spitfire? Twilight Sparkle? Pumpkin Cake? Duchess Sparkler?”
The soldiers said nothing, instead calmly waiting in front of the door for about fifteen minutes, until the reporters had worn themselves hoarse with asking so many questions. Then, the soldiers politely nudged the reporters aside and entered the building.
By this point, a huge crowd of ten thousand ponies had gathered outside of city hall, waving yellowjacks and Copa city flags all around.
“Independence! Independence! Independence!” the crowd chanted.
After a few hours, the head of the Mareicopa legislature exited the building, walking down the front steps. He said nothing, and merely hoisted a sheet of paper above his head. It was a declaration of independence for the newly-proclaimed Free City of Mareicopa. The crowd went wild, throwing their hats into the air. Unicorns teleported all around. Pegasi flew in circles. Earth ponies stomped their hooves.
Not everypony was happy, however. A crowd of five thousand donkey day laborers, known locally as ‘burros,’ showed up, dressed in Equestria’s red, green, and blue colors.
“Speciesist! Speciesist! Speciesist!” they chanted accusingly at the pro-independence crowd.
Reacting quickly, the soldiers rushed down the streets. A few dozen stood on the periphery of the burro rally to prevent any violent agitators from breaking off, while a hundred of them rushed down nearby streets, posting up outside of shops and small businesses to preemptively stave off any looting or vandalism. Despite the accusing shouts of species profiling, no scuffles broke out between the unarmed burros and the heavily-armed soldiers. The rallies lasted well into the evening, but unlike the protests in Manehattan, there was no looting or bloodshed.
As Pumpkin observed the scene from atop a tower, she turned to Vinyl Scratch and smiled.
“That was as successful as I could’ve ever hoped for,” said Pumpkin.
Vinyl Scratch grinned. “Yep. It’s pretty awesome how nopony got hurt today. This morning, I told the guys not to talk, just to listen: be chill but carry a big gun. I think that’s what went wrong in Manehattan. Everypony was trippin’ over there, even me.”
Pumpkin laughed. “Good job. I’m glad this stayed peaceful.”
Vinyl held up her hoof. “Well… don’t party just yet. Mareicopa is friendly territory. Our real test is when the prez and her Manehattan minions find out about this. Somehow, I don’t think they’ll dig what we did today.”
Inside the Presidential Palace, the administration staffers were frantically writing letters, talking on the phone, and talking to reporters. The smell of coffee wafted through the air, interspersed with the sound of shuffling paper, loud talking, and hoofsteps in-between cubicles. Though the official mission was damage control, it looked little different from mass panic. One pony even threw his papers into the air in frustration.
Pound Cake and Rainbow Dash walked through the harried hurricane towards General Spitfire’s office. Though military personnel usually worked in a building separate from the civilian government, Rainbow Dash wanted to keep Spitfire close to keep an eye on her. Neither she nor Pound fully trusted Spitfire yet, though Pound was more trusting of his former mentor.
Spitfire’s door was already cracked, so Rainbow and Pound just walked in, and found Spitfire in the middle of a tense phone conversation.
“...realize what you’re doing? Remember your oath! Equestria’s coasts will be defenseless. Equestria needs its navy. Tall Tale and Vanhoover need protectors. We need our marines’ help to retake them and...”
Rainbow Dash motioned towards the phone. Spitfire silently nodded, pressing the speaker button. Navy General Soarin’s gruff voice cut in.
“I pledged an oath to the princesses, General Spitfire. They are my commanders, and without them, I answer to nobody, including Rainbow Dash. Our ships’ names start with HMS; don’t you know what that stands for? The illegal seizure of power in Manehattan was a coup, and I refuse to participate. My sailors and marines won’t, either.”
“You’re a traitor!” Spitfire exclaimed. “We can’t retake Tall Tale and Vanhoover without the navy stopping Zebra reinforcements coming by sea!”
Soarin chuckled. “And you know what the navy won’t work without? Tides. Luna had a graceful finesse with her magic. With Luna controlling the moon, the tides were smooth and predictable. But Duchess Sparkler and her unicorns just clumsily swing the moon through the sky like kids whacking a tetherball. The tides are really rough and nauseating now. My sailors are seasick, vomiting constantly, and they’re about to mutiny. I have to rotate the entire fleet through Applewood daily just to give them a chance to walk on land for a few hours. Even then, they’re soldiers without a cause. We need Luna back.”
“That won’t happen, Soarin,” said Rainbow Dash. “Just hang in there; the unicorn team in Canterlot will get better over time. We’ll diplomatically resolve the Cycles Crisis soon enough. We need your help retaking the Northwest.”
“Rainbow Dash? I don’t answer to a usurper,” Soarin snapped.
There was a slam, and then the droning dial tone.
Spitfire shook her head. “Thanks to Soarin, the navy is having a crisis of confidence. And now I have two army divisions stationed outside of Mareicopa who defected to this so-called ‘Free City of Mareicopa.’ Not only might we not retake the Northwest, we might not even be able to retake Mareicopa at this rate!”
Rainbow Dash buried her face into her hoof.
Pound Cake shook his head. “There has to be a way. We’re not giving up on a united Equestria. What do we have that works?”
Spitfire said, “Zecora has gotten her potions all in order, and the last of the power should entirely run out in Tall Tale within a week. Then, she plans to assassinate Zaporizhia and poison all the religious police. That’s where we come in. I still have about ninety percent of the army under my control, so at least there’s that. But without our navy to block Zebra reinforcements by sea, we could be fighting them off for a while if they manage to land forces on our shores. Hopefully, when Zecora assassinates Zap, his death demoralizes their navy as much as the Princesses’ removal demoralized ours. Then our job is easy. But I’m preparing for the worst, here. And of course, we still have Mareicopa and the two defector divisions to worry about.”
“What are they up to?” asked Rainbow.
“The two divisions are just staying in the barracks. The Maricopa Militia is still inside the city, and no shots have been fired. It’s a bloodless secession, just like the last time they pulled this stunt a couple years ago.”
Pound sighed. “The more things change…”
“The more they stay the same, and that’s what we’ll do,” said Rainbow. “I always hated Mareicopa’s special status, but we prevented bloodshed two years ago by not launching an attack. We’ll follow the same course this time. As long as Pumpkin’s militia doesn’t threaten any other cities, they’re not an immediate danger. I think that we should just focus on the Northwest for now.”
Spitfire nodded. “As much as I don’t like letting cities go, and feel like I’m playing whack-a-mole with these secession movements, I agree with that call. Tall Tale and Vanhoover need to be our top priorities, and then we can focus on Mareicopa. Then, the Cloud Confederacy.”
Rainbow joked, “Maybe once Mareicopa sees us retake Tall Tale and Vanhoover, they’ll feel a surge of Equestrian patriotism! They might just come back on their own, peacefully.”
Pound laughed. “That won’t happen. We’ve blown our chance with Pumpkin. We misjudged her, and she called our bluff on Glimmer. I don’t think we’ll get Mareicopa back without a fight. Two years ago, Twilight only kept them in Equestria peacefully by giving them perks that we’re not willing to give them this time around.”
“In the meantime, we have to stop the contagion from spreading,” said Spitfire. “Manehattan has quieted down since the Revolution, and I doubt anypony here seriously wants to secede like Mareicopa. The Equals are still out there protesting Doodle’s death, but I can handle them with just a few hundred guards. So, I’ll declare martial law and redeploy the extra guards from Manehattan—the ones I won’t need to retake Tall Tale and Vanhoover—to other cities to stop any more secession talk.”
“Put some in Baltimare,” said Pound Cake. “The main Warehouse is there, and we wouldn’t want Starlight Glimmer or the Equals stirring up trouble there, either.”
“Put some in Fillydelphia,” said Rainbow Dash. “Raindrops told me that a lot of the cops quit after Chief Cheese was arrested. They probably were upset that they couldn’t take bribes so easily anymore. But some of them kept their guns.”
Spitfire nodded.
“Horseshoe Bay was where the oligarchs all fled to, to hide from the angry protesters in Manehattan,” said Pound Cake. “We wouldn’t want them paying agitators to stir up trouble. The guard should be sent there, too.”
Spitfire said, “That’s all the major east coast cities. What about Applewood? That’s our only big west coast port right now, though with Soarin and the navy refusing to listen to us, its strategic value just took a nosedive.”
“Hmmm…” Rainbow Dash pondered. “There wasn’t ever a huge Encampment protest in Applewood, but all the actors and film directors supported us anyway. Then there’s also a lot of donkeys who live in Applewood, and they support us after the Equality Act. Applewood is definitely loyal to the Revolution, to Equestria. No need to send the guard there.”
Spitfire shrugged. “Works for me. With me stationing troops in Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Baltimare, Horseshoe Bay, and trying to get back Tall Tale and Vanhoover, our military will be stretched thin as it is.”
Rainbow nodded. “Those are Equestria’s biggest cities, though. Other than Applewood and Mareicopa, we’ve covered every city with more than a million people, right?”
“Correct,” said Spitfire.
Pound laughed. “So as long as nopony starts trouble in a smaller city like Albuckerque, Whinnyapolis, or Tallahorsey, we’ll be good.”
Dodge Junction
Silver Spoon sat in her office, her forehead buried in her hoof as Fluttershy stood over her desk, pointing towards a map of Dodge Junction and the surrounding areas with a red marker.
“And that mine is off limits now… and that one… an endangered jumping field mouse lives here…”
As Fluttershy spoke, she drew little red X’s over all of Silver Spoon’s mining sites, and they covered the map like chicken pox.
Silver Spoon groaned. “Here, let me help you with that.”
She snatched the marker from Fluttershy’s hoof and just drew one big X over the whole map.
Fluttershy blushed. “Oh, no… nobody’s talking about banning you from mining entirely. Ponies need jobs.” She smiled. “Mining is only banned where it might harm animal life, or might make heavy metals leach into the water table and hurt the ponies.”
“Which is everywhere,” said Silver Spoon curtly.
“Not at all,” said Fluttershy.
Silver Spoon sighed. “Oh? Then name one place that I can mine, that you would be totally okay with.”
Fluttershy paused a moment.
“Uh… well… let’s see… um… actually, let me get back to you on that,” Fluttershy stammered.
“I rest my case,” said Silver Spoon.
Both of them jolted up as the sound of rapid gunfire erupted in the distance. Fluttershy jolted, and her head hit the ceiling.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Probably one of your stupid farmie police ‘officers,’” Silver Spoon scoffed. “You know, the quota hires that can’t even aim, who Glimmer mandated the DJPD hire last week? Isn’t diversity wonderful?”
Fluttershy frowned. “That’s not very nice, Silver Spoon. A donkey or a sheep can be just as good of a cop as a pony. They’ve just never been given the chance to try, thanks to bigotry. We did the kind thing and made you give them a shot.”
After Fluttershy finished speaking, Silver Spoon smiled. Fluttershy smiled, too, thinking that her kind words had gotten through to the mining magnate. But Spoon wasn’t smiling at Fluttershy. Fluttershy turned around and saw the scene out the office window, which overlooked the street right in front of the Dodge Junction police station.
Five ponies wearing mismatched desert camouflage and armed with old, dusty machine guns took cover behind a police cruiser, while five others stood in the streets, pointing their guns into the air. A line of ten pony police officers stood, holding their hooves up. A dozen uniformed sheep, cattle, and donkey officers stood behind them. They had dropped their hoofguns onto the ground.
“Give the farmies a shot, eh? I know just what kinda shots to give ‘em!” exclaimed Silver Spoon, slapping her knee with her hoof as she cackled hysterically.
The pony police officers shouted, “Don’t shoot!”
“They did nothin’ wrong!”
“They’re just clueless ol’ farmies!”
A few tense minutes passed, with the ten dusty militants standing around. Finally, one of them fired his gun straight up into the air. The others joined him, firing about five shots apiece, and the ratatats of the machine guns scared off the farm animal officers, who ran down the street. The machine guns, though dusty and firing irregularly, still seemed to work well enough.
The pony officers merely stood by, not bothering to fire back, as the militants stormed up the stairs of the police station. A camo pegasus flew up to the top and tore down the tricolor Equestrian flag, raising a yellowjack in its place. Fluttershy shuddered in terror at the symbol, which conjured images of genocide and dead bodies in her mind. It wasn’t the changelings’ fault that they had to feed on love, any more than it was the farm animals’ fault that they couldn’t attain cutie marks.
Ten more minutes passed, as crowds of a few hundred ponies gathered in the streets. Several of them flew yellowjacket flags and wore mining helmets, while others looked on confusedly. Finally, a pony who Fluttershy recognized as Sheriff Silverstar stepped out of the police station.
“Howdy, Dodge Junction,” said Silverstar. “Some of y’all might know me from the paper. Name’s Silverstar. I have some experience fightin’ fascists, and I’m gonna keep this town safe. We won’t answer to the cabal nomore. There won’t be no lootin’, burnin’, arson, or mark stealin’ here. Nopony’s gonna shut down our mines and take our jobs. There’s a new sheriff in town. If you mess with Free Dodge Junction, you mess with me!”
The crowd’s reaction was mixed. About half of them booed at the self-proclaimed new sheriff.
“New sheriff? I never voted for you! Where's Sheriff Tumbleweed?”
“Y’all couldn’t stop the fascists from takin’ Appleloosa; how can y’all stop ‘em in Dodge Junction?”
“Say no to speciesism!”
Their voices were drowned out by Silverstar’s supporters, who chanted “Sheriff! Sheriff! Sheriff!”
Fluttershy’s heart raced. These ponies were on the warpath. They could start killing farm animals! They would destroy the environment with mining! She had to escape! She turned from the window and bolted towards Silver Spoon’s office door as fast as her weak wings could carry her. Just as she reached it, it swung open in her face.
Applejack stood, pointing an assault rifle straight at Fluttershy.
“Hey, Flutters,” said Applejack. “I hate to quarrel with an old friend, but y’all Manehattanites left us no choice. You’re comin’ with me. If you don’t resist, then I promise no harm’ll befall you.”
As the cold steel of the rifle barrel pressed into Fluttershy’s skin, she panicked, her chest heaving as the blood rushed to her head. Nevertheless, she obeyed, giving no resistance as Applejack marched her out. Silver Spoon blew a raspberry.
“See ya never, Stutterfly!”
Applejack led Fluttershy down the hall, out the door, and into the street. Crowds booed and jeered at her, throwing tomatoes and cherries. Finally, the fruit pelting ceased when Applejack took her into the police station.
At that point, Fluttershy’s panic gave way to terror as a jail cell door slammed shut behind her.
In the back room of Discount Liquids, papers, letters, and diagrams covered the table that Zarek, Zecora, Berry Punch, and Discount sat around.
Zarek sighed, the pampas grass sheath between his teeth shrinking as he gnawed like a hungry panda bear.
“I don’t understand. We’ve worked on this plan for months. Everything is in place, and the time to strike is within a week… yet some of you still have doubts!?” Zarek shouted. The ceiling lights flickered.
Zecora motioned with her hoof for Zarek to calm down. “Patience, Zarek. The time to strike is not just yet. We’ve lost the navy, and many ground troops. Our plan’s feasibility is now in dispute.”
“And why are you doing those stupid rhymes again? I thought I broke you of that,” Zarek scoffed. “If I can quit smoking, you can quit rhyming. We need to get Tall Tale back into Equestria immediately.”
Discount said, “Sorry, Zarek, but Zecora’s right. Have you been following the news, lately? Ever since Twilight and Luna were dethroned, everypony’s jumping ship. Mareicopa, Dodge Junction, the Navy… At this rate, even if our plan succeeds, there might not even be an Equestria left to go back to!”
“That’s why we should go with my plan, the only way that zebras and ponies can peacefully coexist in Tall Tale,” said Berry Punch. “We declare a secular, independent city like Mareicopa.”
Zarek said, “There won’t be a ‘Free Tall Tale’ or a ‘Free Vanhoover,’ because those movements are patently illegal. Under Equestrian law, only democratic secessions like Cloudsdale’s are recognized. I don’t see any elections in Dodge or Mareicopa. All I see there are lawless terrorists, no different from Zaporizhia. But the Equestrian Republic has elections coming up in November. Votes are the true way to ensure peace in Tall Tale after we rejoin, and ensure the zebra population feels represented. We need the rule of law.”
“You know, for a lawyer, you sure didn’t care about the rule of law when cops were killed in Manehattan during the coup. You don’t care about parliament’s monarchy abolition ‘vote’ held at gunpoint,” said Berry Punch. Then, she slapped her forehead. “Oh, wait! I forgot! You’re a defense attorney! You defend thugs like the Encampment, so they can leech off of successful, taxpaying businessponies like me.”
“Taxpaying? That’s hysterical, tax cheat,” said Zarek, laughing. “All people deserve a good defense, and our justice system has been far too cruel. Twilight Sparkle and Luna were unjust leaders who interned and shot their own people. But President Dash and Justice Minister Raindrops will clean up the entire process. They’ll end police brutality, give suspects due process, make our prisons rape-free, and abolish capital punishment. We all know what happens when we rush to judgment, right Zecora?”
“Yes, we do. And thus, our plan should not go through.”
“And what do you propose instead?” asked Zarek. “If we miss this window of opportunity, we may never have another chance. Once the power goes off, that’s our time.”
The four partisans jolted with surprise as the door to the back room swung open. There stood a silvery-maned zebra wearing a black suit and tie. He was flanked by three stocky zebra guards, similarly dressed.
He said, “Greetings. I am the Reverend Zeberene, and I have come to prevent your violent acts. It is best if you come with me quietly.”
Zarek glanced at Zecora, who glanced back in stunned silence. Discount trembled. Berry Punch’s jaw hung open. The back room of Discount Liquids only had a single door, which now was being blocked by four zebras… and those were just the ones they could see. None of the four partisans had any weapons on them; they were all kept in Discount’s safe which was locked at the moment.
So, with no other option, the four silently got up out of their seats. The zebras escorted them out of the liquid store.
A grand zebra church stood near downtown Tall Tale, its grey brick facade covered in moss and vines, its spire towering into the air. Stained glass windows projected colorful moonlight into the inside, down the rows of pews carved of pinewood. The electric lights on the streets outside flickered and dimmed.
Zecora, Zarek, Discount, and Berry Punch walked down the aisle, between the pews. Behind them, two of the muscular zebras stood, while in front, the third guard walked with Zeberene. Zecora looked at the church in admiration, while Zarek looked on in disgust. Berry Punch’s eyes glanced furtively ahead towards the reverend. Discount’s face had a blank expression.
The eight of them were the only occupants of the church this late in the evening. The reverend reached the altar, then turned to face them.
“Who are you? Why have you brought us here?” Berry Punch demanded.
“Quiet, Berry Punch!” Zarek snapped. “Anything you say can be used against us in court.”
Reverend Zeberene chuckled, smiling. “I am not your adversary, my children. I’m here to help you overthrow Zaporizhia.”
Zecora blinked. “I am confused. In the liquid store, you said that you—”
“—Wanted to stop you from violence, correct,” said Zeberene. “Our city has already been through so much strife in the past several years. We have suffered from shelling, internment, race riots, wars, and brutal occupation by religious authorities.”
“You’re one to talk,” Zarek snapped. “The holy harlequins have ruined this city! Secularism is the bedrock of any modern state!”
“You are correct, my son,” said Reverend Zeberene. “Zaporizhia does not represent the true tenets of Zebrism. I lead the Doves, an underground sect with millions of secret practitioners who believe in nonviolence and pacifism. The scripture has been twisted by the unholy Zaporizhia. He is a false messiah, an agent of Chaos, who leads the flock astray from God’s path of peace with his violent divisiveness. Zebras are meant to coexist peacefully with all other races, for God loves all of his children.”
“That’s just dandy, but words don’t matter against armed zealots,” said Berry Punch.
“For once, I agree with Berry Punch,” said Zarek. “As a lawyer, I would never leave this city defenseless against the religious police.”
“Self-defense is always permitted, provided it isn’t excessive,” Zeberene clarified. “Armed deacons always guard our secret Dove worship services. As an agent of Chaos, Zaporizhia must himself be killed and returned to the underworld. However, your plan to poison hundreds of religious police was, in my view, excessive. They are merely deceived hoofsoldiers, and must be shown mercy and forgiveness, not death. They must be shown God’s true path of peace. Surely an attorney can appreciate the need for mercy towards criminals, Mister Zarek?”
Zarek reluctantly nodded.
“How did you find out about our plan, when Zapp hasn’t?” asked Discount.
Zeberene chuckled. “Ah, but you assume that Zaporizhia doesn’t suspect your plan. He grew suspicious once you became his sole chameleon potion supplier. The police planned to raid Discount Liquids this evening. Had I not arrived, you would’ve been arrested. But thank God, the Doves intercepted his intelligence cables.”
Zecora blinked. “That was quite a close call. As I had feared, our plan would have failed after all.”
Zarek blushed slightly.
Berry Punch sighed. “But how will we stop the religious police? How will we take Zapp’s forces out without violence? And don’t just say ‘God will show us the way;’ some of us here are atheists.”
Zeberene smiled. “My new plan should satisfy even the staunchest unbeliever. I shall explain.”
Dodge Junction
The normally bustling Dodge Junction was eerily quiet. The sidewalks and streets were nearly empty, and no trains traveled through the town. Outside of the police station, piles of tires and sandbags sat, covered in barbed wire. Banners hung from them, scrawled in anti-Encampment slogans. On the outskirts of town, pickup trucks blocked the roads, flying yellowjacket flags. Machine gun-wielding ponies manned the checkpoints, only letting certain vehicles pass. The militants’ numbers had grown to several dozen, and they now had newer weapons and bulletproof vests taken from the police station.
In the town square, a few hundred-strong crowd stood, an exception to the quiet. Cherry Jubilee, a cream-colored, middle-aged mare with a burgundy mane, pink ascot around her neck, and makeup caked on her face stood.
She addressed the crowd with a megaphone, “Dodge Junction won’t fall to Manehattan. We won’t submit our orchards or hospitals to collective ownership, or our mines to closure. We won’t submit our social order to upside-down notions of ‘equality.’ As the new, Ponies’ Mayor, I won’t abide it!”
The crowd cheered.
“Join the Pony Peace Patrol at the police station!” Cherry Jubilee implored. “Grab a gun and stop the looter hordes from consumin’ our proud city! Defend yourself from scum like this!”
A stallion marched a donkey up onto the stage, poking a rifle into his back.
Cherry Jubilee pointed her hoof at him accusingly. “This thievin’ ass was caught in my cherry orchards, pluckin’ fruit from the trees!”
The crowd booed.
The donkey pleaded, “It was for my starving fam—”
The stallion slammed his rifle butt into the donkey’s back. The crowd cheered.
“In the old, weaker Dodge, the ass would’ve gotten a small fine that he’d have never paid, or would’ve leeched off of the taxpayers in jail. But Hollow Shades and Manehattan showed us that thieves and looters prevail when crime is tolerated. So now, the ass will pay with his blood, with five lashes from the Ponies’ Punisher!”
A bulky unicorn masked in a black hood walked up onto the stage, a whip floating in his magic, as he tied the donkey to a post.
The crack of the whip and the donkey’s cries of pain were punctuated by cheers from the crowd as blood dripped onto the stage. After the donkey’s whipping, he was untied and set free, but collapsed onto the stage and had to be carried off.
Manehattan
Pound Cake and Rainbow Dash sat in the presidential office, a phone in Rainbow’s hoof.
“This is treason!” yelled Rainbow Dash into the receiver, gritting her teeth. “I can’t believe you’d betray me, AJ, and betray Equestria. I can’t believe you’d take Fluttershy hostage. I thought we all were friends, but I guess you’re only loyal to money!”
Applejack said through the phone, “I ain’t friends with liars or pretenders, Dash. Y’all are a bunch of thugs: chasin’ out Princess Twilight and Luna, then declarin’ yourselves and your hoodlum buddies the new government. My own brother chased me out of the orchard in Horseshoe Bay, took my job and home. Now they’re tryin’ to shut down the mines and orchards here in Dodge Junction. But we ain’t gonna let you!”
Pound Cake laughed, then spoke into the receiver. “Pretenders? The Encampment had months-long rallies of tens of thousands, and we earned parliament’s support. You have, what, a couple dozen terrorists with machine guns? You’re just a speciesist hate group who showed up and declared yourselves ‘Pony Sheriff’ and ‘Pony Mayor.’ You mock our movement and mock democracy. Tell me again, who’s the thugs? Who’s really playing make-believe?”
On Applejack’s end, Silverstar said, “Y’all are just fascists like Blueblood, ‘cept you ain’t unicorns. The basic ideals are the same, though: y’all think it’s okay to steal anythin’ as long as you ‘need’ it more than the rightful owners. Pound Cake, I’m disappointed in you, son. Together, we fought fascists who came to steal Appleloosa’s apples. But now, you send your union thugs to take the Oranges’ orchards in Horseshoe Bay. You send them here to Dodge to shut down our mines and steal our cherries!”
“Yeah, but you take hostages,” Rainbow Dash responded. “You hold the environment hostage with your mines. You hold your employees hostage with lousy working conditions. What’s more important: a pony’s life, or profit? Fluttershy is a true friend. I’ll never let you harm her!”
Pound added, “Rainbow might not be the flyer she used to be, but if you hurt Fluttershy, I swear that me and Rainbow will come double rainboom your podunk militia into ashes!”
“We ain’t gonna hurt Fluttershy if y’all cooperate. She was my friend once, too,” said Applejack. “You and your cabal step down, return the Princesses to power, then we’ll return Fluttershy unharmed.”
“We don’t negotiate with terrorists!” Pound shouted. Rainbow motioned for him to lower his voice, and took the hoofset.
“The princesses can’t come back,” she clarified. “Nobody supports them anymore. They were tyrants, just like you’re being in Dodge Junction. They shot unarmed protesters.”
Silverstar chuckled. “Everypony with a brain under their ears knows what really happened that night in Manehattan. We know about those sniper rifles stolen from JSUC. If y’all were unarmed, why were police shot dead, too? Why were the bullets flyin’ towards the rioters from the library that the Equals had occupied? I was a sheriff for more’n twenty years, and the accounts just don’t add up. Why ain’t there been an official investigation yet? No ballistics? No forensics? Is it ‘cause y’all don’t want the truth revealed?”
Pound Cake laughed. “Take off your tin foil hat, Silverstar. Spitfire admitted it was the national guard shooting at unarmed Encampment protesters. The Fearless Fifty who died didn’t shoot themselves.”
Applejack guffawed. “Oh, is that what you’re callin’ your target-practice patsies now? The ‘Fearless Fifty?’ That’s a riot… literally. Some loyal friend you are, Rainbow Dash, shootin’ your own protesters in the back just to frame our pal Twilight and usurp her throne. I ain’t never seen such a hoax perpetrated. We don’t want another war in Equestria, but just keep pushin’ us and see what happens!”
“We don’t want a war, either, but there’ll be no monarchy. Give us back Fluttershy right now, or else!” Pound shouted.
“Go to hell, fascists!” Silverstar shouted back.
There was a slam, then the call ended. Rainbow Dash sighed, while Pound muttered curse words under his breath.
Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake sat in a conference room with General Spitfire, Doctor Stable, and Starlight Glimmer.
“Another donkey was just publicly whipped in Dodge Junction. The terrorists are desensitizing the population to speciesist violence. If we don’t act, soon there will be public executions, lynchings, even genocide,” said Starlight Glimmer.
Pound Cake sighed. “After talking to them, I’d say that getting through their thick skulls is like trying to wax a tornado. Inventing crazy conspiracies? Having a ‘Pony Peace Patrol’ that shoots guns off like fireworks? Having a ‘Pony Punisher’ whip donkeys? Dodge Junction makes what Pumpkin did in Mareicopa look like a tea party. How could they be so whacked-out and delusional?”
“Medically, I think that decades of mercury runoff in the water has made Dodge Junction’s residents mentally unstable,” said Doctor Stable.
“Fluttershy was trying to filter out the loony juice to help those people,” said Pound Cake. “These Pest Control buggers don’t even know what’s best for them. But mercury still wouldn’t explain Applejack and Sheriff Silverstar’s craziness. They’re not even from Dodge.”
Doctor Stable said, “I think that they’re suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after the Great Racial War. They’re like veterans who duck whenever they hear vehicles backfiring, because their lizard brains think ‘gunfire’. Given her horrid past, I’d say Pumpkin Cake also has PTSD. She and Iron Will have taken a city like Mareicopa, which suffered immensely during the war, and whipped the PTSD residents up into a fearful frenzy thinking that the ‘fascists’ are coming to get them again. Silverstar, too, is great at fearmongering.”
Pound Cake said, “Silverstar’s a crazy old nostalgic fool, trying to recreate his Appleloosa glory days. This time, instead of a small town of five hundred, he’s ‘defending’ a big city of five hundred thousand. This time it’s not just Canterlot, but all of Equestria who he thinks is ‘fascist.’”
“Like I said in that speech, the buggers should look in the mirror,” said Rainbow Dash. “My speechwriter needs a raise. I kicked some rhetorical a—”
Starlight Glimmer narrowed her eyes.
“—flank. But I’m worried. If Pound Cake and Doctor Stable are right about Silverstar’s delusions and Dodge Junction’s insanity, they might start a war.”
General Spitfire said, “The good news is that the east coast national guard arrested some provocateurs who occupied Horseshoe Bay City Hall and declared a ‘Free Horseshoe Bay.’ But in the southwest, the situation is getting out of hoof. We can’t afford to ignore it anymore. Inspired by Copa and Dodge, there are now huge Pest Control rallies in cities and towns all along the south and west of Equestria, near the San Palomino desert. They’ve seized government buildings in Albuckerque, Santa Neigh, Playa Del Sol, Salt Lick City, El Lasso, and others, and a lot of these vigilante, so-called ‘Pony Peace Patrol’ groups have sprouted up. Most are still unarmed, but I’d say Dodge Junction is a definite trouble spot with the militants and the hostage situation.”
Doctor Stable said, “Our medical observers haven’t been let in to see Fluttershy. Her captors assure us that she’s alive and well, but they say that she’s in a hidden location, and if we knew where she was, we might try to rescue her.”
“Oh, so we're just supposed to trust them?” Pound Cake scoffed.
“Applejack was the Element of Honesty. I do believe her if she says that Fluttershy is okay… but we still can’t leave her with those maniacs! We can’t let the townspeople suffer under terrorists who whip donkeys. We have to retake Dodge!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.
“Yeah! And let’s not forget Tall Tale and Vanhoover, either,” said Pound Cake.
Spitfire sighed. “I was hoping that we could deal with Tall Tale and Vanhoover first, before the buggers. But Zecora told me that Zapp foiled their poisoning plan. That, plus not having a navy, means that we probably won’t get the northwest back anytime soon. Zecora is working on a new plan now, but that could take longer. Either way, we should focus on the Palomino for now. We don’t want terrorists seizing any other cities. If we don’t act, they’ll be emboldened, and the Equestrian Republic house of cards will fall. Dodge Junction should be our first priority, though if we move into town, they could start killing hostages.”
“How will we get back Fluttershy if we don't know where they’re holding her?” asked Pound.
Starlight Glimmer smiled. “I can help with that. I have several Equals in the area who can perform recon and find Fluttershy’s location. Then, I’ll intangibly rescue her. Afterwards, Spitfire’s military can retake the town.”
“Good,” said Rainbow Dash. “Let's do that. I don't want Fluttershy in danger for a minute longer.”
Spitfire said, “In the meantime, there’s a military base just west of Dodge. I can order the troops out. They’ll surround Dodge at strategic locations a couple miles out from the terrorist roadblocks in every direction. That way, when the hostages are rescued, we’ll be in position to move in and liberate the city.”
Town of Azurica
Twenty military vehicles with two hundred soldiers roared through the main street of Azurica, the small coalmining town which stood several kilometers west of Dodge Junction. Tanks’ smokestacks poured black fumes into the air, while atop the armored personnel carriers and trucks, soldiers sat with shifty eyes glancing in all directions.
The vehicle loudspeakers played a message. “Attention, citizens. You are in danger. By order of President Rainbow Dash, do not leave your homes until further notice.”
Suddenly, the convoy stopped in its tracks. Dozens of sweaty, dirt-caked miners holding pickaxes gathered around the lead vehicle, blocking the dirt road. Mares and stallions from the town stood in the streets.
“What are you doing here?” an angry mining stallion demanded.
“Our children don’t need another war!” a mother screamed, holding her foal tight.
One of the commanders calmly said, “We’re conducting a terrorist removal action in the Palomino Desert area. Stand aside, citizens.”
The crowd booed and jeered.
“Where? I don’t see any terrorists. All I see is a military nuisance disturbin’ the peace and scarin’ the locals,” the town sheriff scoffed.
“Y’all should storm Manehattan where the real terrorists are!” demanded an old grandmother.
The situation in Azurica continued like this for several hours, with the residents standing in the street and blocking the convoy until the sun started to set.
As the hours passed, the soldiers began to step off of the carriers and vehicles one by one. Townsponies wrenched their guns away, which the sheriff threw into a pile on the sidewalk. In return for the surrendered guns, the townsponies fed the hungry soldiers bowls of soup and apples. The exasperated commander finally ordered all of his troops to surrender their weapons and leave their vehicles. The crowd cheered.
“Now let’s get these vehicles out of this town, and into the right hooves where they belong!” the sheriff proclaimed.
The next day, Azurica residents brought out yellowjacket flags and hung them from the military vehicles, tearing off the Equestrian Republic tricolors. Miners brought out rolls of yellow caution tape normally used to mark abandoned mine shafts. About half of the soldiers from the prior day, including their commander, trekked back to the military base on hoof, disarmed. The other half took their machine guns and mounted the vehicles, tying yellow tape around their uniforms and gun barrels to show their loyalty to the Pest Control movement.
The vehicles hummed to life with much fanfare. The Azurica townspeople gave the soldiers a round of applause as they drove off towards Dodge Junction, not to surround the town, but to defect to it.
Mareicopa: September, 2028
Pumpkin Cake sat in the executive building, sifting through mounds of paperwork regarding the newly-independent city’s laws. Based on Pumpkin’s guidance as city Director, the Free Mareicopa legislature would soon vote on them.
People like Pound Cake might say that Pumpkin wielded too much power, which could corrupt her, or that she was unqualified to lead. Pumpkin had never desired power over others, only to pursue her personal goals with magic and money. As she’d attained copious amounts of both, she would be impossible to bribe. Phase Healing had given her management experience, and her past suffering under authoritarians had given her an appreciation for personal liberty, so she’d never trample the Mareicopan citizens’ rights. She would certainly be a better leader than the parasitic Rainbow Dash, the cronyistic Twilight Sparkle, the blustering Luna, or the tyrannical mob whims of unrestrained democracy. Her youth was her sole weakness, but she’d appointed older advisors like Professor Fossil, Walkabout, Iron Will, and Professor Fossil to guide her.
For those who feared her power, she had an answer. Mareicopa would hold a constitutional convention, and the new constitution’s articles would limit the government to enumerated powers. The government would only be responsible for military, police, and courts, all three of which would be as small, transparent, and corruption-free as possible. All other duties like education, road maintenance, and postal services would be privatized. Taxation would be abolished in favor of fees, fines, and a voluntary lottery system. That way, even if Pumpkin wanted to abuse her political power, she’d be hard-pressed to.
The office door creaked open, and she gazed up. In the doorframe stood six well-dressed businessponies: Jet Set, Upper Crust, Aunt and Uncle Orange, Filthy Rich, and Diamond Tiara.
Filthy Rich smiled. “Ah, if it isn’t Mareicopa’s new… uh… princess?”
Diamond Tiara gritted her teeth. Perhaps she was envious of Pumpkin, and wanted to be ‘princess’ herself.
“I’m no princess,” said Pumpkin. “I’ve never cared for dresses and galas. I’d prefer to call myself Mareicopa’s Director.”
“You mean you have all this power, and you won’t even call yourself princess? What a waste,” Diamond Tiara scoffed.
Pumpkin sighed, narrowing her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, but did you six come here for any particular reason other than to annoy me? I’m very busy, you know.”
Uncle Orange said, “We just wanted to get acquainted with Mareicopa’s new director. What with Manehattan being administered by rogues who ran off their most productive citizens like us, and with roving gangs controlling Dodge Junction, we’re glad Mareicopa is still functioning smoothly.”
Upper Crust said, “I think that we all can do great business together, here in Free Mareicopa.”
“Okay,” said Pumpkin, smiling. “You’d better get to work, then. Your businesses won’t build themselves.”
“Actually, that’s what we wanted to talk about,” said Filthy Rich. “We were wondering if you could grease the wheels for us. After all, that’s what a ruler does to facilitate commerce.”
Pumpkin looked at them, perplexed.
The six ponies glanced at each other, whispering in each others’ ears. Pumpkin caught a few snippets.
“...eighteen, too young to know how things work…”
“...understandable... only came to power last month...”
“...needs a crash course?”
Finally, Aunt Orange stood forward and spoke, a plastic smile stretching across her face.
“In simple terms, Director Pumpkin Cake, it’s the government’s job to ensure we make a profit. After all, we employ millions of ponies and bring in millions in tax revenue. In the interest of the public order and financial solvency, you should ‘grease the wheels’ for us.”
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m repealing almost every regulation and restriction on business,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“...Oh, well there’s no need for that,” said Aunt Orange. “Some regulations are good! Without patent regulations, how would we stop our customers from planting Orange Co. seeds and growing their own oranges?”
“And without eminent domain, how would I build my stores if somepony refuses to sell me their land?” asked Filthy Rich.
“If there weren’t safety regulations, inferior firearms made by JSUC’s competitors would flood the market. Without laws against magic, ponies wouldn’t have as much incentive to buy our guns for protection,” said Jet Set.
“Without public assistance programs to pick up the slack, how could we pay our factory employees so little without them finding another job?” asked Upper Crust.
“I see...” said Pumpkin Cake. “Your cronyism is unwelcome here. If you want to make money in Mareicopa, feel free, but you’ll earn it honestly like I did. You won’t use my government to kneecap your competitors. I’m no tool like Twilight. Competition is the life of commerce, but regulation is its death. How are your requests any different from the planned economy of RainbowCare? Dash stifles innovation like foal farms, to favor existing hospitals. That’s basically what you’re asking me to do, here. Corporate welfare is the same as the Encampment parasites demanding handouts.”
“But… I mean, let’s be reasonable ponies, here,” said Filthy Rich. He grinned reached into his pocket. “How about I help you, and you help me?”
“Oh, you think you can bribe me? That’s cute,” said Pumpkin Cake. “With what would you have to bribe me? I’m a billionaire and can buy anything I’d ever want. I’m the most powerful unicorn alive. With a single pulse of my horn, I could cure cancer, experience sheer ecstasy… or kill you all where you stand.”
After a brief moment of awkward silence, the oligarchs all scurried out of the room. Pumpkin laughed, and returned to her paperwork. About a minute later, a voice broke her concentration once again.
“Not interrupting, am I?”
Pumpkin glanced up to see Rarity standing in the doorway, hesitantly peering in. She smiled at her old friend.
“Oh, hey, Rarity. Sorry, I was just taking care of some leeches. Please, come in!”
Rarity’s eyes widened. “My goodness, I don’t know what you said to those businessponies, but they were running so quickly, they almost knocked me over outside.”
“I put them in their place,” said Pumpkin. “The monarchy days of rent-seeking are over. Rarity, I consider you a good friend, so I really hope that you’re not here to ask for a handout, too.”
Rarity shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I contribute to society, not take from it. I grace the world with my fashions and creations, but would never soil it with greed.”
Pumpkin sighed. “I don’t like that word, ‘greed.’ That’s the enemy’s terminology.”
“Unfortunately, ‘greed’ is also the rallying cry that the enemy uses against you, much as you use the word ‘fascism’ against them. Cries of greed got people out into the streets in Manehattan to overthrow the princesses. If you aren’t careful, they’ll spread to Mareicopa.”
“If the Encampment spreads here, we’ll put it down. I’m not concerned.”
Rarity laughed. “Wouldn’t that dreadfully clash with your stance on individual rights? Do people not have the right to assembly, to speak out against you? Do they have the right to a fair trial if accused of a crime? Do they have the right to own weapons or use magic?”
Pumpkin nodded. “Yes, everybody has those rights.”
“Then a revolution is inevitable. Your opponents will use those very rights against Free Mareicopa to seize power, then they will quickly restrict those same rights—just as Rainbow Dash has done—to secure their power. Dash now shuts down radio programs, imposes new magic laws, and sends tanks against Pest Control protesters who’ve looted not a single shop, caused not a single violent death. She takes the same or worse actions today that, just two months ago, the Encampment would’ve rallied against Twilight Sparkle and Luna for doing. But Mareicopa’s trajectory is untenable. You’ve almost guaranteed a new revolution. This city will not remain free for long. Either it will fall to the mobs of looters as Manehattan did, or to halt it, you must restrict freedoms and become the very fascist state that you so despise.”
Pumpkin Cake shrugged. “If that’s true, Rarity, then how do I prevent that?”
Rarity smiled. “You disprove the Encampment’s cries of greed by beating them at their own game. I do it through generosity: true generosity, which by definition must come willingly from the hearts of individuals, not state coercion. The Encampment makes a mockery of generosity by calling welfare state programs ‘generous.’ Only a confused mind could consider forced redistribution to be ‘generosity,’ and could consider the desire to keep one's legitimate possessions to be ‘greed.’”
Pumpkin laughed. “Now you’re preaching to the choir. But all welfare will be abolished in Mareicopa.”
Rarity nodded. “It must be replaced with a better system. It could be private philanthropists like me, who establish foundations. It also could be those like you, with your charity care at Phase Healing. Perhaps you do it for ‘selfish’ interests like good publicity, but charity is still charity and still appreciated by its recipients. Another source of generosity is the church. As an atheist, you might dislike organized religion, but it provides a valuable function. Before government assumed the role, the homeless would go to churches to be fed and clothed. The indigent sick would go to religious hospitals to be healed.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Nurse Redheart told me about that.”
Rarity continued, “Religion just as often motivates followers like Redheart to compassion as it motivates zealots like Zaporizhia to violence. And, just as a separation between state and church is necessary to prevent tyranny like his, so is a separation between state and altruism necessary to prevent tyranny like the Encampment’s.”
Pumpkin said, “But when I talked to my brother about that, he said that there wasn’t enough private money being given to take care of everypony.”
Rarity giggled. “Ha! As if there’s enough government money? By the Encampment’s own budget, RainbowCare and the other new welfare schemes are projected to run massive deficits. Their compassion exceeds their ability to pay.”
“So what do we do, then? How do I prevent a paupers’ revolt in Mareicopa?” asked Pumpkin Cake.
“You articulate your principles, just as I’ve done with you today. You explain the necessity and correctness of your point of view. If you truly desire to be a real leader, you must lead, darling. Where the Encampment seeks to divide the people along class, race, and species lines, you must unite them. Now, I see that you have plenty of paperwork, and I’m ever so sorry for taking up your time. It has been pleasant speaking with you, Pumpkin Cake. Good afternoon.”
Rarity smiled and turned towards the door.
“Wait, Rarity…” said Pumpkin.
Rarity turned around.
“I’ve got my hooves full, and I need help from smart ponies. Would you be one of my advisors, please?”
Rarity smiled. “I would love to help you and Mareicopa… but not as an advisor, as the Director herself. You must demote yourself to vice-director.”
Pumpkin opened her mouth to speak, but Rarity cut her off. “Mareicopa needs a leader who is a bit less rough around the edges. One who doesn’t brashly threaten others’ lives, even only as hyperbole. One who conducts herself properly, who can dress and speak the part. Part of preventing a revolt is by being charming, even to your worst adversaries. You have great potential for top leadership, Pumpkin Cake… but you’re too young, hormonal, and inexperienced to be there just yet. Wait, and your time in the sun as Director will come, and I will groom you for the part.”
At first, Pumpkin was going to object, but then she realized that Rarity was just as experienced and talented as her, probably moreso. She would certainly have the rights of Mareicopa’s citizenry in mind. Rarity’s generous streak did concern Pumpkin, but Pumpkin could always find a way to rein her in if needed.
She nodded. “You can be director, but you have to follow the constitution, Rarity.”
“Excellent!” Rarity exclaimed. “And of course I’ll follow it. Now, let’s start on our wardrobes…”
The Tiara Tower, Manehattan
A grand marble fountain stood in front of the Tiara Tower. Little children laughed, splashing each other with water on this warm September day, getting in some wet frolicking before autumn arrived and made it too cold. A sign in front of the fountain, which once said, ‘No running, swimming, or skateboarding’ had been defaced, a sticker put up over the ‘no’ that said ‘Go.’
As he flew by it, Pound Cake laughed. The revolution had already improved Manehattan’s spirits. Before the protesters had chased Diamond Tiara out of the Tiara Tower, no such fun was allowed in her exquisite fountain. Pound glanced up at the top of the building. The giant letters still screamed TIARA, but they had renamed it to the Shelter Tower, since the building had been appropriated by the city for care of the homeless. After all, there was no reason why rich people should be able to spend millions of bits for a penthouse while the homeless froze or boiled in the streets without a dime. It was nothing but greed. Unfortunately, there wasn’t nearly enough space in the Shelter Tower for all of the homeless in Manehattan, and lines stretched around the block to get a room there.
As Pound walked into the lobby, a cool blast of air-conditioned air hit him. The indoor ferns were gradually turning brown, while the once-spotless marble floors were slowly but surely accumulating a thin film of discarded wads of chewing gum, band-aids, and scuff marks. The janitors had quit working ever since Tiara had fled Manehattan, because they were no longer being paid.
In the attached bar that connected to the lobby, lower-class drinkers were having a blast. They uncorked champagne bottles, cheering loudly and spraying it all over each other. They gulped it down like it was cheap beer. Empty cases of decades-old wine piled up in the trash. One stallion stumbled out of the entrance to the bar, slipping on the smooth marble floor of the lobby. Pound whooshed over, held out his hooves, and stopped him from falling.
“Why, thanks, stranger!” said the drunk, hiccuping.
Pound smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m glad that you’re enjoying the Shelter Tower.”
“Ain’t you the… veep or somethin’?”
Pound chuckled. “Well, yeah, but I’m really just the same as any of you. I’m not like Twilight or Luna; I go out and see for myself how the citizens are doing.”
The drunk grinned. “You’re alright, kid.” Then, he stumbled to the door to go outside to the fountain.
Pound Cake continued further into the massive lobby, where a grand piano and several cushy chairs sat. A noxious smell caught his nostrils, and he spied a cloud of white smoke rising from a chair. It appeared that a stallion was smoking a cigar in here.
Pound gave a cough. It was slightly forced to make a point, but the smoke did irritate his lungs. Didn’t the stallion know? No smoking was allowed indoors in Equestria anymore. Compliance was at ninety-nine percent. Pound coughed again, but the stallion kept puffing away.
Finally, he walked up to him and said, “Excuse me, but you’ll have to go outside to smoke that, sir.”
“I’m a disabled vet,” said the earth stallion in a gruff voice. He swiveled around in his chair. Pound noticed that he was missing both of his back legs, and a little more besides. At this, Pound blushed beet red.
“Also, it’s ma’am, not sir. I’m transgendered now.”
“I’m so sorry,” Pound Cake stammered. He turned and flew towards the revolving door, as shame overtook him.
How could he have been so prejudicial towards that disabled veteran? She had sacrificed so much in the Racial Wars, and here Pound was, with his wings and legs and stallion parts working just fine. If anything, that mare had the right to be irritated at Pound for strutting around all able-bodied like he owned the place. Pound sought to be a servant of the people, not an autocratic ruler like Twilight had been.
Now, Pound needed something to lift his spirits. So, after some serious soul searching and privilege checking, he flew over to Manehattan Medical, now renamed to Fearless Fifty Medical. Lines stretched out the hospital doors to get in, though he flew through a top window. No longer would some patients get gold-plated healthcare just because they had money. Now, all care was distributed on a much fairer basis of first-come, first-serve.
Though Doctor Stable was the chief physician of the Equestrian Republic, he hadn’t quit his day job at the hospital. Not even he was too high-ranking to deliver care to the people. He was busy looking over a patient’s X-rays in an exam room with her when Pound Cake walked in.
“See that lump right there on your colon? That’s cancer,” he said, pointing out a tumor.
“Oh my goodness!” the mare exclaimed, her eyes widening. “Will… will… will I survive?”
Pound shuffled back towards the door, realizing that he probably shouldn’t be in the room with such a sensitive, personal thing going on. But then, he paused as Doctor Stable smiled.
“You have very good odds if we operate on it. We’re lucky that we caught this when we did. I believe that, chances are, you will survive and live a long and healthy life afterwards.”
Tears streamed down the mare’s eyes as she reached over and hugged Doctor Stable. “Thank you so much! Before the revolution, I had terrible insurance that wouldn’t let me have a checkup without a giant copay. But now, here I am and I’m grateful for early detection!”
Doctor Stable glanced over at Pound Cake. “Pound, I want you to remember this for the rest of your life. This, right here... this is generosity. This is sacrifice for the common good. What your sister does when she does her ‘charity’ care is just a shallow publicity stunt. I do this because I’m obligated, because I know that this really counts. I do this solely for others and expect nothing in return. That’s what medicine is truly about.”
The patient nodded in agreement.
Pound walked back out the front doors of the hospital, a smile on his face as his confidence was restored. The revolution was doing great things for people. A few cities had seceded, sure, but they were in the loud, hateful minority, and they would soon be recaptured and the fatcat terrorists brought to justice. Then, the wonderful new Equestrian Republic would stretch across the continent, giving all of the people their innate rights to food, shelter, healthcare, and all other basic essentials of life.
Crystopolis, The Crystal Empire
The translucent red, blue, and purple houses and buildings of the Crystal Empire’s capital city glistened in the morning sunlight. On the eastern side of the city, the light was blinding. On the western side, though, a long shadow loomed over the crystal houses, cast by the tall crystal palace which Princess Cadance and Shining Armor called their home, and which King Sombra had called his home before them, having ordered his slaves to build it.
As Twilight Sparkle stood on the balcony, she gazed over the shady western portion of the city, and saw it as an apt metaphor. Monarchs were going the way of the chupacabras, and the Crystal Empire’s monarchy was the last vestige of Equestrian royalty. Given the turmoil in Manehattan, the monarchy did indeed cast a long shadow over the Crystal Empire. Twilight wondered when the streets of Crystopolis would fill with the same angry rioters seen in Manehattan, this time calling for Cadance’s ouster.
“Don’t worry, Twily.”
Twilight Sparkle turned around to see her smiling brother standing there. He rested his white hoof upon her winged back, patting her reassuringly.
“The crystal ponies love you. You and Spike helped free them from King Sombra. They love Cadie and I, too. The Encampment won’t change that. You and Luna will always be welcome here.”
“I… I guess I understand, Shining,” said Twilight Sparkle, gazing back out over the city. “But…those protests changed me. I’ve been thinking this past month. What if I wasn’t the best leader? Maybe I paid a bit too much attention to oligarchs, and not enough attention to my friends like Rainbow and Fluttershy. Maybe the police and military were too brutal under my watch, to the zebras in Tall Tale, to the protesters in Manehattan. Maybe I don’t deserve…”
“Oh, would you knock it off, Twilight?”
Twilight turned around to see Spike the Dragon standing at the balcony door. In many years, he had grown somewhat beyond his baby dragon form, to about a meter tall, and now met Twilight at eye level. This was due to his consumption of the generous quantities of crystal gemstones bestowed upon him by the grateful crystal pony subjects.
Spike said, “You did the best you could. Princess Celestia left you a huge responsibility when she passed away. She was over a thousand years old, and you aren’t even fifty. Quit beating yourself up about it.”
Twilight smiled. “Thanks, Spike. I’ve missed you. I should’ve come up here to visit more often… but I guess that’s not a problem now that I live here, is it? I just wish I could go back to Equestria and straighten things out. I keep hearing the news everyday, and it’s not good. Lawlessness is spreading… cities are seceding left and right...”
Spike waved his claw in the air. “Don’t bother going back. They’ve made their bed; let them lie in it.”
Twilight chuckled. “I guess you’re right. If anything, my presence might make things worse.”
“Just stay up here and enjoy the party, like me! The crystal berries and maple syrup are to die for! The Feldspar Festival this August was so fun, I had a heart attack! And have you tried the crystal rock candy? It grows here! You can dig in the ground, and find CANDY!”
Pinkie bounded out towards the balcony, hopping up and down until she landed on the rail, balancing precariously above the city on the tips of her hooves. She fell back onto Twilight Sparkle and turned to face her, grinning widely.
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Pinkie Pie? How long have you lived here?”
She grinned. “Well, after the revolution, a bunch of Equals came and seized my family’s rock farm in Whinnsylvania, and they said that it was the property of the state now. I was so sad, that my hair lost its poofy. But then, I got a brilliant idea! We moved to the Crystal Empire to farm rock candy. I’ve been here ever since. My parents, Inky, Blinky, and Maude love it here!”
“We have many such political refugees from Equestria, arriving daily,” said Princess Cadance, who walked out to the balcony to join Twilight Sparkle, Spike, Shining Armor, and Pinkie Pie. All five of them stood there, gazing out over the city.
“Hey, Cadie,” said Shining Armor, nuzzling his wife. “Have the servants finished up brunch, yet?”
She nodded. “We’re having peridot poutine.”
Pinkie and Spike both shouted out in unison, “My favorite!”
As Twilight Sparkle was eating brunch with her friends and family, the door to the balcony burst open. In walked a crystal courier with a letter, which Twilight read to herself in between bites of brunch.
“Dear Twilight Sparkle,
After that ruckus in Manehattan, I figured that you’d be staying with your brother in the Crystal Empire. Sheriff Silverstar and I have grabbed those pretenders by the horns, though. That traitor minister of yours, Fluttershy, is in our custody. We won’t let Rainbow Dash have her back until she lets you be princess again, as it rightfully and honestly should be. RD seems adamant about not letting go of power, but I know that her loyalty gene will kick in, and she’ll see reason eventually. Please come to Dodge Junction, at the train station, and we can discuss how to get you back on that throne where you belong.
Thanks, Applejack
Twilight’s stomach grumbled as she set the letter aside. Was it the poutine? Or was it the flood of anxiety and memories that the letter had brought back?
The door burst open once again. This time, it wasn’t a letter, but a pegasus, who zoomed towards the table.
“General Soarin?” Twilight asked.
“Princess Twilight; thank Celestia you’re here,” he said, coming to a screeching and bowing in midair. “Where’s Princess Luna?”
“She’s asleep,” said Princess Cadance. “What is the meaning of barging in on us like this?”
“My apologies,” said Soarin. “Twilight Sparkle, I’m here to pledge my undying allegiance to you and Luna, who I beseech must return to Manehattan at once to command the navy, or else the Pretender Rainbow Dash…”
“Geez, you’re rambling more than I do! And I would know,” said Pinkie Pie.
“Leave Twilight alone. She’s been through a lot,” said Spike.
Soarin scowled. “If you don’t return, Tall Tale and Vanhoover will forever be under the hoof of Zaporizhia! Rioters and arsonists will keep seizing factories and stealing on the east coast! A princess must protect her subjects, she must raise the moon to create the tides, or what legitimacy does she have… uh, your highness.”
“Apparently none, judging by your backtalk,” said Cadance.
“Twily isn’t princess of Equestria anymore. She doesn’t want to be. So she’s hanging here, with us,” said Shining Armor.
Soarin drew back, blinking. He stood there for a few seconds, before turning to Twilight.
“Princess Twilight? Is this true?”
Twilight lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Soarin, but if I tried to go back to Manehattan, there could be a civil war. Right now, there’ve been a few cities declare independence, but no battles, and it looks like everypony is really trying to avoid bloodshed. I want to keep it that way. The last night I was in Manehattan was the deadliest night that Equestria has seen in two years. My name is mud there.”
Soarin shook his head. “Perhaps in Manehattan, but not in Applewood. Since our ships are all docked there, I’ve had my naval forces bloodlessly secure the port and surrounding metro area. Turns out all of those Applewood movie actors who supported the Encampment were really just that: actors. At the first sign of the navy marching through downtown, they fled to Manehattan without a fight, to become Broadneigh performers or something. And all of the burros who supposedly support the Encampment and Rainbow Dash? They cheered for us! They don’t want their small businesses looted, either! So we have a base of operations in Applewood now. From there, Princess, you could lead a force—”
“And what, start a war? Have you even been listening, dude?” asked Shining Armor.
Twilight nervously chuckled. “Applewood, fine. But Baltimare? Manehattan? Mareicopa? Do you think Pumpkin wants to team up with me, and that she’d give up her power over that city? I didn’t see any monarchy flags at those Pest Control protests. If I showed up in Manehattan with any of your navy, there would be a huge gunfight. I’m sorry, Soarin, but the answer is still no.”
Soarin sighed. “So… I’m a ship without an anchor, then. I see. Our navy will have to find its own way. For now, I guess we’ll just sit in the bathtub in Applewood. Are you sure that you have no final orders for me, Princess Twilight?”
Twilight said, “Just try to prevent bloodshed in Equestria. Use the navy to secure the public order, and calm down the situation.”
Soarin saluted. “Yes, your highness!”
He turned and flew out the door.
Pumpkin Cake and Rarity walked down the cobblestone streets of Canterlot, towards the gates to the royal palace. Inside the palace, they walked down the marble hallways. Crystal chandeliers reflected light down. Pumpkin didn’t care for such frivolities, but at Rarity’s insistence, she had started wearing a blue ladies’ jacket with a white undershirt. Rarity herself wore a crimson dress.
They finally reached the grand oak doors leading to the office of President Fancy Pants and Duchess Sparkler. Rarity knocked twice, and Amethyst Star opened the door.
“Look at you, all dressed up,” she chuckled. “Come in.”
They sat down on leather chairs. Fancy Pants jolted slightly upon seeing Pumpkin Cake.
“Uh… er… what a nice ensemble, Miss Cake,” said Fancy Pants, trembling slightly.
“Thanks,” said Pumpkin. “Rarity made it for me.”
The last time that Pumpkin Cake had spoken to Fancy Pants, she had been trying to assassinate him, so his trepidation was understandable.
“Alright, so what did you two call this meeting about? Here to ask me for some pointers about how to rule a city-state?” asked Duchess Sparkler grinning. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes myself.”
“I think we have Mareicopa under control for now,” said Rarity.
Pumpkin Cake said, “We have a proposal. If you’ve been following the news from Manehattan, it’s probably caused you to doubt your own grip on power.”
“Not really. We sent the protesters packing here. Just a gravity spell did the trick,” said Sparkler.
“I was rather hesitant to approve that use of force,” said Fancy Pants. “What a shame that five protesters died. It was an awful mess.”
“So you both were just fine with taking actions like that?” asked Rarity.
Pumpkin snarked, “That reminds me of a previous leader of Canterlot’s. What was his name again?”
“Who are you to talk? You used a gravity spell at your clinic,” Sparkler replied.
“That was in self-defense, and no one was hurt when I did it.”
Fancy Pants said, “I was disheartened and saddened when those five died. When I wanted to assume power in the Second Kingdom, it was to prevent such totalitarianism. I never thought I’d have to do such things to stay in power.”
Rarity said, “I believe that gravity spells are temporary stopgaps. You might’ve frightened the protesters for now, but they’ll be back someday, only next time, more numerous. Then, you’ll either have to become tyrants like Blueblood, or you’ll be dethroned like Twilight and Luna.”
Sparkler chuckled. “I’ve helped overthrow regimes all over the world, for my entire life; I’m pretty sure that I know a putsch when I see one coming. I know what makes them succeed, and what makes them fail. Canterlot will be fine.”
“But what will be the price we have to pay, Amethyst? We have never discussed this at length, and I don’t know if I’m willing to go as far as you are. I’m not a monster like Blueblood,” said Fancy Pants.
Sparkler sighed. “We won’t have to do that. We’ll give the masses just enough perks, like healthcare or pensions. It’s just enough to survive on and keep them satisfied, but not enough to make taxes too high on producers.”
“Is it?” asked Pumpkin Cake. “Just like RainbowCare, your CanterCare and welfare isn’t sustainable, either. You’ll go bankrupt in just under two decades.”
“Indeed. I have run the numbers,” said Rarity.
With a flash of light, a small stack of papers appeared on Fancy Pants’ desk.
“We’re keenly aware of our own fiscal situation, Pumpkin and Rarity,” said Sparkler. “Sure, it’s not sustainable, but we inherited the welfare state from Blueblood. You can’t just dismantle it overnight, because ponies get really upset when you take stuff from them. Then there’ll be riots again like you said.”
“That’s why we’re proposing a deal,” said Rarity. “Pumpkin and I are very wealthy mares. We can help ensure that, post-welfare state, indigent ponies still are cared for. I have a private foundation which I would be happy to extend to Canterlot, while Pumpkin has Phase Healing’s services, and can also contribute money. This will reduce the risk of revolution.”
“That’s quite generous of you. Thank you for helping to relieve the burden on our treasury,” said Fancy Pants.
Sparkler raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch, though? I know you, Pumpkin Cake; you’re a lot like me. You wouldn’t just give away millions of bits or do charity care unless you got something in return.”
“Simple,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Canterlot and Free Mareicopa will enter a military alliance. We’ll consider an attack on one city to be an attack on both cities. Right now, Rainbow’s cabal is distracted by the Dodge Junction crisis, but we’re worried that Spitfire will eventually invade Mareicopa. My militia probably won’t be enough.”
“We can contribute limited military resources, but we don’t want to be dragged into war. It’s my job to keep the peace between Equestria and the Second Duchy,” said Sparkler.
“We desire peace, as well, and wish to deter war. This alliance will be a deterrent. Together, both of our cities can defend against aggression from Equestria,” said Rarity.
Sparkler nodded.
Fancy Pants said, “Perhaps, to increase our advantage, we could rely on technology. To inaugurate our cities’ alliance, we should connect you to some truly innovative unicorn scientists. Though I must warn you, Miss Cake. With your personal history, they might dredge up some unpleasant memories for you...”
Dodge Junction
The dim, orange glow from Dodge Junction’s lights shone across the night sky. It reminded Hoops of the fire burning in his belly for all that had happened.
Hoops’ home city of Cloudsdale had been taken by oligarchs. An oligarchic police force in Manehattan had killed his best friend. Then, his mentor Jolly Doodle had been killed by the new government that was supposed to have replaced the oligarchs, but was really just as corrupt and unfair as ever. Nothing had changed in Manehattan. Police still took bribes, people still were homeless, and rich tycoons and bankers like Shiny Diamond still ran big businesses. The economy was still terrible, and had actually worsened since Rainbow Dash’s interim government took power, with healthcare and housing prices skyrocketing, and with massive layoffs at major companies. Of course, Hoops knew that the only solution would be the total abolition of money, class, and cutie marks.
Hoops had practically begged Starlight Glimmer to start a second Encampment, this time to finish the job of the first one and truly live out the egalitarian principles of the revolution. Glimmer had told him to have patience. After all, Manehattan was the lesser of two evils for the Equals right now. The speciesist Pest Control which had seized Mareicopa, Dodge Junction and a smattering of other cities throughout the southwest to preserve corporate dynasties was surely worse than Rainbow Dash’s ineffective government.
“Damn buggers,” he muttered under his breath, as he held a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
Starlight Glimmer had instructed the Equals to direct their attention towards the Southwest for now. First, they’d liberate Dodge Junction, then Mareicopa, and then--as a final goal that Glimmer rarely stated openly, but that most Equals implicitly understood--Manehattan itself would be taken in a second Encampment.
Hoops couldn’t see much of Dodge from this distance, let alone figure out where Fluttershy was being held. He would probably have to fly directly over downtown. Even though Dodge was a mostly earth pony town, a few pegasi still lived there, so he wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion. He silently motioned back to two other pegasi Equals, who nodded and took off into the air.
The composition of this scouting mission made Hoops feel slightly guilty. He had wanted to take along an earth pony, unicorn, or farm animal instead of only pegasi on his trip. But Starlight Glimmer had sent three pegasi, since they could fly through the air and over Silverstar’s makeshift checkpoints in the road. And sending a farm animal might arouse suspicion from the speciesist ‘Pony Peace Patrol’ paramilitary group. From the horror stories that Hoops had heard, the newly-formed group hated and abused anyone who wasn’t a pony.
Someday, he thought, everypony would be equal in physical ability. Even if Hoops had to give up his wings, he would still do it so that other ponies and farm animals wouldn’t be jealous of his flight. In a way, it could be a sort of atonement for his years of being a flight school bully, which he still felt guilty about.
As the Equal pegasi soared above the desert road, they neared closer to the checkpoint on the main highway through town. A tank, an armored personnel carrier, and two trucks blocked the road. Hoops felt that he and the Equals might be able to get into the city at this point. After they passed overhead, they would be in the clear.
But a voice shouted up into the air from the checkpoint before them.
“Stop!”
Hoops sped up towards the checkpoint, ascending higher into the air vertically. The other Equals followed his lead.
“This is restricted airspace!”
Ignoring the shouts from the guards, Hoops and his Equals zoomed over the checkpoint, as a spotlight from a truck bed turned on and blinded him. His eyes stung as he put his hoof in front of his eyelids to block out the light, trying to regain his bearings.
The hesitation was enough time for a Pest Control pegasus to ascend out in front of the Equals.
The pegasus shouted, “Turn back now, or I’ll shoot!”
Hoops drew his own sidearm and blindly fired three shots towards the voice. His comrades joined him and fired their own weapons. The spotlight cut off below, and five loud, rapid shots erupted from the ground. Five concurrent muzzle flashes blinded Hoops out of the corner of his eye. His comrades only yelped in pain for an instant, as they spiraled down towards the ground.
Hoops removed a grenade from his saddlebag, plucking out the pin with his teeth. He lobbed it towards the sniper fire and the former light from the spotlight. A loud explosion ripped through the roadblock, and he zipped off as Pest Control pegasi gave pursuit.
Hoops spun to avoid the gunfire, as the shots of the militants rang through the air behind him. After Hoops had lost the pursuing pegasi, he took a pair of binoculars and saw an enemy truck that had erupted into flames. Though he had scored a direct hit, his intelligence-gathering mission had been a failure, and he had lost his two comrades; they had either died or would be captured. He turned to fly back to Baltimare.
Just as he did, a bullet hole pierced his wing, and he hurtled towards the ground.
The next morning, Sheriff Silverstar and Applejack walked out to the roadblock to survey the damage from the previous night’s shootout.
A burnt-out truck stood by the side of the road, a charred and blackened mess, with the rubber tires having melted down into the sand. Two camouflaged army soldiers lay dead inside of black body bags beside the road, zipped up with yellowjacket flags draped over them. Two Pony Peace Patrolmares were busy digging a shallow grave to dump the body of an enemy pegasus. Another Pest Control soldier stood, a rifle in his hoof pressed against the back of a light brown coated pegasus Equal. The pegasus moaned in pain at his wing, which had a hole shot through it.
His eyes were the size of saucers as he knelt down on both knees and pleaded for the soldier not to take his life.
“Well, looky here. I guess since the cabal couldn’t force the regular army to come into Dodge, they sent their Equal shock troops instead,” said Applejack, sighing.
Sheriff Silverstar said, “It's only a matter of time until Glimmer herself shows up and start takin’ cutie marks.”
“We oughta take him to the city center and tie him to the post in the town square. Maybe if the townsponies see who exactly we’re up against, they’ll be more eager to sign up for militia duty. We just got another hundred guns and RPGs in from Copa yesterday, but only fifty signups since then,” said Applejack.
Silverstar chuckled. “Maybe they don’t want to go to war. Who could blame ‘em; war is hell and I don’t want that, either. But it looks like they don’t have to go to war at all, ‘cause the Equals have brought the war here.”
Applejack nodded, as Silverstar turned around to walk back into town. She sighed, hung her head low, and followed behind. Then, she recalled her gambling problem from many years ago. Back then, she had often gone all in at the slots or at poker and regretted it, losing a lot of money. Thus, she’d quit gambling for good. Or, at least, she thought, but her and Silverstar taking Dodge Junction had also been a huge gamble, and so far, it hadn’t paid off in the least.
The Equals' attack had caused the first violent deaths in the Dodge since the crisis, and full-out war was inching closer. Applejack’s letters to Twilight had done little good to convince her friend to return to her rightful place. Rainbow Dash didn’t look like she’d cave and surrender her power to save Fluttershy, perhaps because she was calling Applejack’s bluff and knew that she would never hurt her. Since a part of her considered it dishonesty, Applejack had always had a bad poker face, hence why she'd lost so much money at the tables years ago.
Of course, though Applejack hardly would harm Fluttershy, Silverstar or the ponies in the so-called ‘Pony Peace Patrol’ might. Applejack was pretty tolerant, and she’d been colleagues, coworkers, and friends with dozens of farm animals over the years. So the PPP’s extreme anti-farm animal slurs—like calling them all retarded criminals—severely offended her. Though not exactly tolerant, Silverstar himself didn’t seem like a huge speciesist to Applejack, either. But neither Applejack nor Silverstar dared to ask the Patrol to tone down their rhetoric.
The PPP was a necessary evil. They were needed to guard the perimeter and roadblocks around Dodge Junction, and help the regular police enforce the law within the city. Crime had spiked since the revolution. The Encampment’s anti-police mentality had metastasized through Equestria, emboldening criminals, Applejack thought. Many police all over Equestria, including in Dodge, were afraid to go on duty, because what if they got burnt or shot to death? So perhaps only a vigilante group could secure order. But what kind of order was the PPP’s equine supremacy? How was it any better than Starlight Glimmer’s equality?
In Lorindon, the capital of the Uneighted Kingdom, steely grey clouds loomed overhead in the afternoon sky, promising drizzle soon. A giant clock tower belted out three loud chimes. In the grand, ancient parliament building, well-dressed stallions and mares walked, wearing bowler hats, top hats, petticoats, and fine dresses. It was much like the city of Canterlot in that respect.
Pound Cake and Rainbow Dash sat inside of the office of the Prime Minister, a pegasus named Alexavian Knickerson. He had a dignified way of speaking, and a refined accent that would make even Rarity sound passé.
“Would you care for some tea?” he asked.
Rainbow Dash chuckled. “No one drinks coffee here? I could use a caffeine pick-me-up after flying across the ocean. I’ve got major winglag.”
“Tea has caffeine as well, though only a quarter as much per cup. Nevertheless, everyone in my country drinks tea at this time in the afternoon. It’s called ‘tea time,’” said Knickerson.
“Tea time? How about energy drink time? Red Mule gives you a kick! ...Come to think of it, that’s really offensive. We’re gonna get that company to change it,” said Pound Cake.
Though the two Equestrians made their jokes, they didn’t want to be impolite. Pound and Dash smiled and took the teacups in their wings.
“You must hold out your feathers to be fancy, like so,” said Knickerson, demonstrating with his own wing. Pound and Dash suppressed a groan and did as he requested.
Despite all of the cultural differences between the Uneighted Kingdom and Equestria, the nations were far more alike than not. Just like Equestria, the Uneighted Kingdom was also a union of different pony races. Centuries ago, the earth pony kingdom of Trotland, the pegasus kingdom of Wingland, and the unicorn kingdom of Spells had united as one kingdom, later to become a democracy with the monarch limited to mere ceremonial roles. Nowadays, many ponies from all three races lived in all three countries, though each race still had a comfortable majority in its original country. Additionally, the crystal pony island of Northern Sapphireland was part of the union.
Just like Equestria, the union between the Uneighted Kingdom’s constituent countries was far from perfect. Over the centuries, there had been feuds ranging on a scale from peaceful attempted secession votes and hoofball riots on the mild end, to insurgencies, bombings, and medieval sieges on the violent end. But unlike Equestria’s current fractured state, the constituent island kingdoms were still united despite all of the past turmoil. Additionally, as the Encampment admired, there had been a national system of medicine in place in the Uneighted Kingdom for many decades, which they desired to use as a model for Equestria.
So with all of that, Rainbow Dash and Pound Cake felt that Equestria could learn a lot from its allies in the Uneighted Kingdom. When Knickerson spoke, they listened.
“The unicorns of this kingdom should not and will not be made responsible for moving the heavenly bodies, Madam President and Mister Vice President,” said Knickerson.
“What? But the Spelch unicorns could do it, couldn’t they?” asked Pound Cake.
Knickerson shook his head. “We are trying to maintain a delicate balance here. We’ve devolved powers, authority, and responsibilities to the constituent countries so that they feel fairly represented. We wouldn’t want Trotland or Wingland to become suspicious or envious of Spells if they received a new power. Raising the sun and moon is a weighty responsibility.”
“I’ve always thought that the whole world should share the job, but some countries don’t have any unicorns to do it with,” said Rainbow Dash.
Knickerson said, “We have unicorns, but we’ve restricted their magic. Laws limit them to only the most basic spells such as levitation, detection, or horn illumination, with all other spells banned. Even with levitation, a unicorn is required to register his horn as a deadly weapon if he is able to lift more than ten stone. After all, such magical prowess could also enable him to telekinetically choke a person to death from across a room. Given our unicorn population and the mass of the sun and moon, the maths are unfavourable. Were we to take on this responsibility, thousands of our unicorn subjects would have to train their telekinetic abilities to that potentially-deadly level. Though raising the sun and moon is a draining task, they could still have enough energy left over to pose a threat.”
“Oh, so you want Equestria to do it instead, and risk our unicorns getting that strong?” asked Pound Cake. “We’re already trying to lower our own magic crime rates to where yours are at, and this won’t help us.”
Knickerson said, “Ah, but even sans Mareicopa and Canterlot, Equestria still has four times the unicorn population of Spells. So for the Equestrian unicorns to collectively raise the sun and moon, each unicorn would only need to be a quarter as powerful per capita as the Spelch would have to be.”
“So just like coffee versus tea, huh?” asked Rainbow Dash. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Precisely!” Knickerson exclaimed.
“Wait a minute,” said Pound Cake, holding up a hoof. “What do we get out of the deal? If we raise the sun and the moon by ourselves, your kingdom still gets the benefit but has no costs.”
“You’re wrong on that account,” said Knickerson. “I have talked to my Stirrupean colleagues in Prance and Germaney. In exchange for Equestria carrying this celestial burden, the Stirrupean countries have agreed to form a pact, so that we would consider an attack on Equestria by any external aggressor to also be considered an attack on Stirrup. In theory, this would prevent another Racial War, by discouraging rogue states like the Second Duchy, Zebra Empire, or a de facto independent Mareicopa from launching future attacks on Equestria.”
“Awesome!” said Rainbow Dash. “You guys helped us out during the last war by selling us ships and letting us use your intelligence service, and we really appreciated it… but if we had your entire army behind us next time? If you were actually, directly fighting on our side? We’d be undefeatable!”
“On that note, I do have more good news,” said Knickerson. He smiled and turned towards the door to his office.
Nothing happened.
“I said, ahem… I do have more good news,” Knickerson repeated a little louder.
This time, the door burst open, and there stood the towering, handsome stallion, Agent Con Mane, wearing a dapper tuxedo.
“Dreadfully sorry, I’m a bit hard of hearing,” said Agent Con Mane. “Years of gunfire, explosions, and all.”
Pound Cake chuckled. “Tinnitus is a real bear. Wonder if my sister could cure that…”
Rainbow Dash stuttered, “C-Con Mane? Bu-but…”
“The rumours of my demise were much exaggerated, my dear,” said Con Mane. “You see, when King Blueblood ‘watched me die’ in that shark tank, little did he know that I was deceiving him. I swam to the side of the tank, away from the sharks. What Blueblood thought was my blood in the water was actually a packet of red dye and shark pheromones to draw them away from the real me.”
“That’s bloody brilliant,” Knickerson remarked.
Con Mane continued, “And what he thought was me struggling, my body being consumed by sharks, was actually a magical-electrical decoy. Observe.”
Con Mane removed a metal cone and placed it over the tip of his horn, and it projected a convincing hologram of himself next to him.
“Good day, Double Oat Seven,” said the hologram in a tinny, not-quite-real voice.
“Why, good day to you, too, old chap,” said the real Con Mane, and patted his double on the back. His hoof phased through the double’s ‘back’, and the hologram jittered slightly, but from a distance, it wouldn’t have been easily noticeable.
“I would demonstrate how I can make it appear as though he’s being torn limb from limb, but I see I’m in polite company,” said Con Mane.
“That’s some cool tech,” said Pound Cake. “Who made that?”
“That would be me,” said a voice from outside of Knickerson’s office.
A tan pegasus stallion with a Winglish accent, a slicked-back, brown mane, and an hourglass cutie mark stood in the doorframe.
“Who are you?” asked Rainbow.
“My name is Doctor Simon Percival Whoovensworth the Third, esquire, but you may call me Dr. Whooves for short.”
“You’re an inventor?” asked Pound Cake.
“Of sorts,” said Dr. Whooves. “I go all around the world, finding the best technology and magic, and bringing them together, taking the best parts from each. The Projectonator is a fusion of unicorn projection magic and a smaller, more compact version of a movie theater colour projector. By drawing on the magic in the unicorn’s horn, the projection can become three dimensional and appear almost as lifelike as a real pony.”
“So sort of like those buffalo lightning cannons in Appleloosa,” said Pound Cake.
Whooves nodded. “While those were a dastardly application of science, they were quite smashing nonetheless!”
Knickerson said, “The Uneighted Kingdom has a proud tradition of inventiveness and spycraft, and to inaugurate our nations’ defense pact, I am pleased to permanently transfer Dr. Whooves and Agent Con Mane to Equestria. Given the challenges you face from Pest Control, I believe you need them more than we do.”
Rainbow Dash nodded. “Definitely. Doctor Whooves can help us design the database for Equestria’s new healthcare system, modeled after the one here.”
“I’m not that sort of doctor, and it isn’t quite my area of expertise, but I will see what I can do on the information technology side of things,” said Doctor Whooves.
Rainbow Dash turned to Con Mane. “As for you, Double Oat Seven, I have a new mission for you...”
Country of Criollo, Continent of South Equestria
Along the dirt roads in Criollo, snowy fields sat next to jagged, blue mountain peaks that pierced the sky. Cold wind whipped through the valleys, howling across the plains. The native llamas bundled up in thick coats as they traversed between villages. Walkabout and Pumpkin Cake teleported into the valley, pausing to catch their breath in the thin mountain air. Pumpkin shivered, her breath sending out fog plumes.
“Ah, it’s great to be back in the Southern Hemisphere, where July and August are wintah!” Walkabout exclaimed, sitting down in the snow.
Pumpkin chuckled. “Oh, speaking of, how is Oatstralia doing these days?”
He shook his head. “Not well. Read it for yourself while I take a smoko.”
An Oatstralian newspaper materialized in front of Pumpkin Cake.
The Brismane Boomerang September 13th, 2028 Equestrian Revolution Leaves Oatstralian Defences Weak
Since Princess Twilight Sparkle was dethroned last month, Equestrian cities have seceded, outlaw gangs have taken over, and military battalions have defected. The recalcitrant General Soarin’s navy has abandoned its patrol routes in the Southerly Seas. These naval patrols were vital in defending Oatstralia and deterring aggression from Seapony, pirate, and especially Zebra fleets. Analysts believe Emperor Zaporizhia wants to seize Sydneigh and its large zebra immigrant population, and take Oatstralia’s plentiful iron and nickel ore deposits.
Without the Equestrian naval patrols, Oatstralia’s three million citizens will be left with only their own twelve frigates to defend the entire continent, along with the few vessels that the Uneighted Kingdom can spare. After signing a defence treaty with Manehattan, Prime Minister Knickerson has already pledged that his fleet will patrol Equestria’s east coast to prevent any attempt by General Soarin to restore the monarchy. Thus, rumours have abounded that Oatstralia must institute a draft to shore up its own military.
However, during her press conference Tuesday, Prime Minister Marequarie stated, “Emperor Zaporizhia couldn’t seize Sydneigh like he did Tall Tale. Tall Tale was taken from within, but our zebra immigrants are under control. We’ll continue patrolling our shores to prevent sea tortoise boat arrivals. No draft will be imposed, and our citizens won’t be armed. We will continue enjoying our peaceful lifestyle.”
Pumpkin said, “I don’t know much about your country’s politics, but I’d say that Marequarie…”
“...has got kangaroos loose in the top paddock,” Walkabout finished. “She thinks that Oatstralia is just fine with no naval defenses, and that a Tall Tale situation can’t happen. But the zebra immigrants in Sydneigh are treated worse than in Equestria. As an immigrant myself, I do believe every immigrant deserves a fair go. But ever since Tall Tale, the government’s become very suspicious of zebras. Sydneigh police officers profile and harass them. Zappo must be licking his lips, since he preys on disenfranchisement. That’s not to mention the other hostile regional powers who’d love to get the keys to a shiny new Oatstralia.”
“You’re from a rough neighborhood,” said Pumpkin. “I guess that Oatstralia’s parasitic days of hiding behind Equestria’s navy are over. Your country lacks the ability to defend itself.”
Walkabout sighed. “That’d be right. Like a pack of stahving dingoes, every fossicker nation in the region will come to pluck the lucky continent clean.”
Pumpkin said, “And with your unicorn civilians magically disarmed…”
“Oatstralia will topple quicker than a stack of dominidoos!” he shouted, his face turning red. “Why, if I ever get me horn on those speciesist, spineless, parasitic pollys in Campdrafta, I’ll—”
Pumpkin held up a hoof. “Take it easy. I know you’re upset about Oatstralia, but right now Mareicopa needs to shore up its defenses.”
Walkabout nodded. “You’re right, Pumpkin. I apologize for the outburst. I believe we only have one more zap to go until we’re at our destination.”
They both disappeared, and reappeared further down the dirt road in the snowy valley. A roadsign stood before them.
Cantrip, 3km
The small town of Cantrip was nestled in the mountainside. Unlike the typical adobe huts of other Criollan villages, Cantrip had white marble buildings, topped with domes and spires that shimmered in the sunlight. It reminded Pumpkin of Canterlot’s unique architecture. Almost as if a few buildings from Canterlot had been teleported from North Equestria to South Equestria...
“Cleverly-named town,” said Pumpkin. “Thanks for the lift, Walkabout; I can take myself from here.”
“I’ll wait by the roadsign, then,” he said.
Pumpkin zapped herself over to the entrance of the town with its cobblestone steps. Disguised as Red Velvet, she walked up the road as her hooves nearly slipped on the icy cobblestone. She’d teleport again, but the long journey had exhausted her. Instead, she surveyed Cantrip, a strange, anachronistic relic. Old Second Kingdom flags fluttered from the sides of every shop, with insignia and battle flags of long-disbanded or destroyed military battalions frequently accompanying them.
Unicorns passed Pumpkin by on the street, giving her a few glances, though nopony said anything to her. For such a small town of only a few hundred ponies, everypony probably knew each other. A visitor like her would be out of place, and the town was secluded enough to not be a big tourist destination.
Towards the top of the road sat an office building. The glass double doors reflected bright sun out, and beside the door, a sign proudly read, “New Second Kingdom Institute For Scientific Research.” What a mouthful.
A warm blast of air hit Pumpkin as she walked in, clashing with the goosebumps on her skin and racing of her heart. After consulting the directory, she ambled down the hallway. All along the hallway, picture frames depicted pivotal moments in Second Kingdom scientific history. A unicorn pilot smiled inside the cockpit of the first military biplane. An astronomer gazed out towards a celestial object he’d just discovered.
One photograph depicted a buffalo brave with a lightning cannon strapped to his back. Another depicted the first-ever genetically spliced animal, the deathwasp, with its sharp and deadly stinger. Pumpkin instantly glanced away from those two photographs, not wanting to dwell on the memories that they evoked.
Despite the SK’s cruel tyranny under Blueblood, it had always amazed Pumpkin Cake what a nation of just five million ponies had achieved scientifically in a decade and a half. If the unicorns ever had a compelling argument for being the master race, these pictures showed it. That, or they showed what achievements were possible without any ethical constraints.
As Pumpkin reached the end of the hallway, she came upon a closed door. She gulped. This was it. She turned her hair and coat back to their true colors, and her heart thumped in her chest as she reached her hoof to the door, but drew it back several times.
Finally, she summoned the courage to knock.
“Come in.”
Pumpkin Cake opened the door.
“Hello, Pumpkin Cake,” said the biophysicist Doctor Stekton flatly, glancing up from his papers.
Pumpkin jolted. Of all the potential responses that she’d expected from Stekton upon his seeing her, she hardly expected him to greet her. Though not exactly friendly, his voice contained no fear, shock, or disgust.
“Hi… uh, Doctor Stekton…” Pumpkin replied.
“I had long theorized that our paths would cross again someday. Take a seat,” he said. As with his earlier statement, he said it nonchalantly.
She sat down, and emotions came flooding back to her. After more than two years, she was face-to-face with the scientist who’d helped Trixie torment her in Mareicopa. Part of her wanted to make him feel some of the pain that he’d inflicted on her, since he seemed entirely unaware of it, treating her as just another visitor to his office. Part of her wanted to ask him why he was such a cruel psychopath. Part of her wanted to snap his neck instantly. But the biggest part of Pumpkin remembered that regardless of what Stekton had done to her before, right now, she needed his cooperation.
She said, “Doctor Stekton, you and Trixie studied my intangibility spell a few years ago.”
He nodded. “Correct. While studying you, I correctly theorized that the spell was an expression of a rare genetic mutation, while Trixie was convinced that just anypony could learn it. Much of our information extraction procedures from you were unnecessary, as I had reached my conclusions long before Trixie was willing to accept them. Her politics overpowered her science. I was infuriated at having to waste so much of my precious time and vast intellect on a problem that I had already solved.”
Pumpkin almost laughed. For a pony like Stekton, being forced to pursue scientific dead ends must’ve been a form of torture, though nothing like hers. At least it was some small comfort for Pumpkin knowing that Stekton would’ve quit torturing her long before Trixie would’ve, if only because he wouldn’t have needed to.
Pumpkin said, “You’re a gifted scientist, unlike Trixie. You’re a sadistic sociopath… but you’re smart.”
“Such high praise,” said Stekton. “Unfortunately, results matter more than intentions. My laboratory here in Cantrip has little funding. As a wanted war criminal, I must use back channels and consort with shady startups to pursue my scientific endeavors. Right now, I’m limited to doing contract work with small South Equestrian engineering firms studying such pedestrian things as electronic pacemakers and methods to combat parasitic tapeworm infestations.”
“Parasitic infestations, eh? Equestria has one right now,” said Pumpkin. “The hordes of looters have seized power in Manehattan. They’ve declared they have the right to everything of mine that I’ve worked so hard to achieve. They claim they’re owed something just because of their adversity and failures? They have only themselves to blame, because their challenges have been nothing compared to mine.”
She narrowed her eyes at Stekton as she said ‘mine,’ but as usual, he didn’t flinch an inch.
Instead, he grinned ever-so-slightly. “None of the parasites are as magically well-endowed as you, Pumpkin Cake. Why do you think they’re parasites? In nature, a parasite can’t survive but by attaching itself to another, stronger animal for sustenance.”
Pumpkin said, “I don’t know much about biophysics, but I do know your talents are wasted on tapeworms. Help me fight the bigger parasites. Leave this museum, come to Mareicopa, and you won’t be prosecuted. I’ll give you all the money you need for research. You’ll be building weapons grander than lightning cannons.”
Stekton stared blankly at Pumpkin for a few moments. Perhaps he was shocked that Pumpkin had asked him for his help, or perhaps he was amused; she couldn’t tell.
But in a few seconds, he shouted, “Snips! Snails!”
Half a minute later, the two unicorn stallions walked through the door to Stekton’s office. Pumpkin turned around and looked at them, and they both instantly drew back.
“Aaaah! It’s Pumpkin Cake!” Snails exclaimed.
“Please don’t hurt us! We were just following Trixie’s orders back in Copa, honest!” said Snips, falling to the ground and clasping his two front hooves together, pleading. Snails soon joined him.
Pumpkin giggled softly at their groveling, which she allowed to continue for about a minute before replying.
“I won’t kill you, but you’re on a tight leash.”
Doctor Stekton said, “We’ll be working in Mareicopa for Pumpkin Cake now, to build weapons. Pack your things.”
Snails raised an eyebrow. “Uh… Pumpkin Cake wants us to work for her? I thought she hates us and says we’re fasci—”
“Snaaaiiils! Don’t question the Great Pumpkin!” said Snips, slapping Snails.
Pumpkin Cake said, “Yes, you are fascists, and I do hate you. But it turns out, there are even worse fascists than you. Instead of following unicorn supremacy, though, they follow ‘equality.’ It’s the odious idea that a rich, smart, powerful unicorn like me should be made equal to the poorest, dumbest, most unskilled people, by having everything stripped from me and given to them. For all of your ideology’s failings, at least unicorn supremacy has room for superiority somewhere, even if on a primitive, binary scale. Maybe someday you’ll learn that not all unicorns are superior; some are talentless hacks like Trixie. Not all non-unicorns are inferior; some are great like Iron Will. Superiority has many different factors. Open your mind, and you may prove useful to me yet.”
Dodge Junction
Perhaps it was a few days. Maybe a few weeks. Months? Fluttershy didn’t know how long she’d been a prisoner, but this dark, musty, windowless basement gave her no clues. She lived in constant terror of what would happen next. She was fed irregularly, usually a few apples or cherries and a bottle of water, so that gave no hints. Every so often, she’d hear explosions or gunfire off in the distance, screaming, shouting.
Whenever there were explosions, dust and dirt fell down from the ceiling on her, making her think she might be in a crawlspace or dungeon rather than a basement. Though, she did have enough room to stand, so if it was a crawlspace, it was rather large.
The waterboarding had been the worst. A hooded pony often entered, the blinding light of the desert sun panging Fluttershy’s retinas as he opened the door and closed it again. He carried a wet rag and pail of water, pouring it on her to give her the sensation of drowning. There was no physical damage, but the psychic trauma was very real. He had done this three times, always demanding to know where the explosions were coming from, demanding to know when Starlight Glimmer would come to take everypony’s cutie marks, demanding to know how her rumored intangibility spell could be countered, if at all. Fluttershy told him all she knew. She knew nothing about the explosions, the Equals were less than a twentieth of the entire Encampment, and the threat from Glimmer had been exaggerated since she only took cutie marks voluntarily. Intangibility had no counter, other than building a special cage as Twilight had put around the Royal Palace.
Her answers didn’t satisfy the ‘Pony Punisher,’ though the recent arrival of a new prisoner to the dungeon had made him quit focusing on her. Hoops the pegasus, who Fluttershy remembered had been a mean bully to her when she was a filly back in Cloudsdale, also shared a cell with her. As Hoops was actually a high-ranking Equal himself, the Punisher had focused all of his attention on him since his capture, leaving Fluttershy mostly alone. His tortures made the ones he had used on Fluttershy look benign. The Punisher had broken all of Hoop’s legs, smashed his jaw, and shattered his ribcage, calling him ‘fascist scum,’ an ‘inferior, self-loathing piece of pony trash,’ and saying that when he was done, he would beg Glimmer to get his cutie mark back and ‘rejoin the pony race.’
Of course, all of Hoops’ injuries from the Punisher were in addition to the injuries that Hoops told Fluttershy about from before. After the failed mission when they had initially captured Hoops, they carted him out to display in the town square, as a reminder to the town of the supposed threat from the ‘fascist cabal’ in Manehattan. The Equals’ grenade and gun attack had killed three Pony Peace Patrollers at a roadblock. Townsponies had spat on Hoops, thrown beer bottles at him, and put out their cigarettes on his flank, onto his Equal mark. The propaganda did its work, Hoops said, and the line to sign up for the town militia now stretched around the block.
All of this had made Fluttershy more petrified than she had ever been of anything in her life, and at the moment, she was off loudly sobbing in a corner, curled up in the fetal position and shaking.
Hoops groaned. “Oh, knock it off, Klutzershy! I’m tryin’ to get some sleep before he comes back again.”
Fluttershy blushed. She would hate for her anxiety to disturb Hoops. Even though he had been a bully to her before, years ago, not even he deserved what he was going through. So she got an idea, as she recalled a lullaby that she had often heard before naptime at kindergarten flight school back in Cloudsdale. Hoops would probably remember it, too. She sang it softly and slowly,
“The weather comes to be Inside the factory And dreams of foals are made Below the cloudy shade So seek the peace you’ll find within your dreamy mind.”
Hoops mumbled, “Thanks, Fluttershy.”
Fluttershy smiled. Through an act of kindness, she had not only eased her own mind, but that of a former tormentor of hers. Even the fiercest bear or dragon could be tamed with unwavering placidity. As a mere pegasus, Hoops was no exception.
Of course, Fluttershy’s sort of compassion was fundamentally missing from the Pest Control movement. They were greedy barons out to get whatever they wanted, and the rest of the world and its suffering be damned. If people were injured by dangerous spells and then died in the streets without health care, or if mining operations killed endangered animals and tainted the water with mercury, then that was just collateral damage for them. Pumpkin Cake was as selfish as Trixie Lulamoon had been, but even more dangerously powerful.
The temporary peace was not to last. The door burst open, this time with only moonlight accompanying it, and the Punisher stormed in, screaming and shouting. His horn erupted in a bright flame, bringing light to the dungeon. With his hoof, he whacked Hoops across his already-scarred flank, and levitated him up to eye level.
“Wake up, ya Equal evil! Was burnin’ Manehattan and Filly to the ground not enough for ya sick shits? Look what you’ve done!”
The Punisher levitated up three photographs of destroyed buildings. One showed a mare sobbing in front of her house, where all of the windows had been smashed and the siding burnt. Another showed the side of a school, with mangled playground equipment and red bricks strewn everywhere. The final photo showed a dead, elderly stallion, his belly full of shrapnel shards.
“They’re blindly shootin’ off rockets and mohtars into Dodge! They’ve killed two civilians already! Tell me where the shellin’s comin’ from, RIGHT NOW!”
Hoops stammered. “I-I have no i-i-dea—”
The Punisher whacked Hoops to the ground. The flames from his horn shot out and engulfed Hoops’ equal mark. He screamed and tried to swat out the fire with his hoof, but his broken leg could barely move.
After about five seconds, the Punisher summoned a fire extinguisher from the wall and sprayed it on Hoops’ flank, which was now burned beyond recognition.
“You meanie!” Fluttershy shouted, slamming her hoof against the ground and her restraints. “How dare you torture somepony like that! Why, I ought—”
The fire extinguisher hit Fluttershy square in the chest, which knocked the wind out of her. She sat, heaving, while Hoops sobbed and wailed.
The Punisher scowled at Hoops. “What, ya can dish it out, but can’t take it? That hot flank was nothin’. You’ve got no idea what pain is, ya parallel palooka. But I do!”
He removed his hood, and displayed a burnt, blackened face. His nose was entirely gone, with only two holes in its place. His lips had disappeared, leaving his teeth exposed and forever-smiling like a skeleton’s. Fluttershy winced.
“That’s right!” the Punisher shouted. “I was a Manehattan cop! I was patrollin’ the Square, tryin’ to stop ya thieves from lootin’, when a molotov hit my mug, meltin’ half my face off. When I woke up in the hospital a week later, some yellow pegasus Raindrops was servin’ me… ME… an indictment for brutality, along with all the other cops. I got the hell outta there, ‘cause she was lyin’. Ever since I’m on the force, five years, I’d never beat a suspect, and I’d never fired my gun. Not once. Well, maybe I shoulda!”
The Punisher floated up his cat-o-nine-tails, about to whack Hoops, but a gunshot rang out through the basement, and he fell to the floor, blood oozing from his side.
Fluttershy glanced up, seeing a tall, handsome unicorn stallion standing in the door frame, who blew the smoke off of his gun barrel, smiling.
“Who… who are you?” asked Fluttershy.
“The name’s Mane, Con Mane. Mister Punisher here ought to have covered his tracks better. After the explosions today, I knew that he would come to interrogate you. He publically whipped a few donkeys and sheep on the town square, and I followed him back to this location, keeping hidden. Here I am. Now, let’s get out of here before one of the militants comes...”
Shouting and ruckus erupted outside, as the pitter-patter of hoofsteps grew ever closer. Con Mane drew his gun and took cover behind the wall next to the door.
The basement door slammed open. A smoke grenade flew into the room, spewing noxious fumes. Fluttershy and Hoops coughed and wheezed, but Con Mane removed a gas mask from his tuxedo. As two PPP militants rushed in, he ducked under a table.
“Hooves where I can see them, prisoners!” one masked militant exclaimed. He and his comrade pointed rifles at the pegasi. Fluttershy held up her hooves, but Hoops was too weak to do so.
Two muzzle flashes erupted from out of the grey, and the militants fell to the ground. Con Mane rummaged around until he found a key, and with a quick clank, removed the shackles from the pegasi. Fluttershy gave Con Mane a giant bear hug.
“Thank you!” she exclaimed. But Hoops had passed out on the ground, unconscious from the gas.
Con Mane levitated Hoops onto his back.
“We’ve no time to lose,” Mane said. “To the extraction point!”
He emerged from the cellar, the wooden steps creaking under his and Hoops’ combined weight, with Fluttershy following along. A hot blast of desert night air hit them. The flickering street lights shone down, illuminating clouds of gnats. Several of the lights were out.
They rushed down the streets, almost entirely abandoned save for a few homeless people. As they neared a corner, Con Mane took cover behind a wall.
“Reports of shooting… another pegasus raid?”
“I don’t know. Let’s investigate.”
Mane’s horn illuminated. A projected doppleganger walked out from behind the corner, then proceeded into view of the militants.
“Evening, sirs,” the decoy said.
“Who are you?” asked the first militant, his hoofsteps getting closer.
“A journalist from Trotland.”
“Where’s his press badge?”
“I don’t see one. Sir, you should be hunkering down in a cellar. Don’t you know it’s unsafe out here with all the explosions?”
The real Con Mane chuckled. “Quite.”
He lobbed a grenade around the corner at his decoy. A few seconds later, the shockwave burst down the street, spraying dirt, metal fragments, and body parts everywhere. Fluttershy winced and covered her eyes, her ears ringing.
Mane, Hoops, and Fluttershy hustled past the blackened spot in the street. At the end of the street, a warehouse stood with smashed and broken windows. Con Mane ducked beside the bay door, his horn illuminating as it opened. Inside stood a shining silver sports convertible, its sleek body glistening.
Once he checked inside and saw nopony there, Con Mane gently placed Hoops in the backseat. He hopped into the driver’s seat, with Fluttershy riding shotgun. The car roared to life as he turned the key. He slammed the gas pedal, rocketing down the street, past the two dead militants.
As he sharply rounded a corner, smashing over a garbage can in the way, two Pest Control APC’s raced down the street towards him. Gunfire whizzed past him and Fluttershy, as she cowered down. He turned around, firing back with a rocket-propelled grenade. The first APC burst into flames, but the second continued its pursuit.
Con Mane ducked down at the continued gunfire, peering his head up just to the bottom of the windshield. The sports car continued onto a short bridge, and he jerked the steering wheel. The tires screeched, and the car slammed through the guardrail, off the bridge, and onto a perpendicular train track three meters below. Fluttershy’s head jolted at the impact, though Mane was unfazed.
Mane leadhoofed the pedal, as the car raced down the railroad. Three motorcycles with two riders apiece jumped the bridge as well, landing on the tracks. Their wheels bumped up and down along the ties as they closed in on the sports car. They fired machine guns, denting the back bumper but missing the tires. Con Mane pressed a button, and an oil slick coated the railroad. One bike skidded and crashed. Off in the distance, a train whistle blew.
“Fluttershy, take the wheel, if you would. Don’t move a muscle,” said Con Mane. He shifted out of his seat, into the back seat with Hoops, levitating Fluttershy into position. Her front hooves were on the steering wheel’s ten and two, while her hind hoof compressed the gas pedal to the floor. Fluttershy had never driven a car before in her life, and would normally be freaking out, but Con Mane’s smooth demeanor and flawless transition gave her ease. She kind of liked the wind whipping her mane, and this was faster than she could even fly. All she had to do was stay perfectly still as Con Mane had placed her... easier said than done, given the rattling of the car over the railroad ties, and the oncoming train.
A train whistle angrily tooted, the conductor waving his hoof out of the locomotive. To either side of the rails stood the brick walls and wooden siding of Dodge Junction homes, shops, and warehouses. There wasn’t enough of a gap to the sides for the sports car to drive around the train! Fluttershy had to resist the urge to slam on the brakes as the train closed in, first at two hundred meters, then at one hundred and ninety...
“Keep going, Fluttershy. I have a plan,” said Con Mane.
Behind her, he fired a sniper rifle over the backseat towards the remaining two motorcycles. One of them tipped over, slamming into a brick wall. Mane levitated a syringe out of a duffel bag, injecting the unconscious Hoops. Fluttershy raised an eyebrow as she watched all this through the rearview mirror, but kept the car pointed straight towards the oncoming train. The train’s brakes squealed and emitted sparks from the tracks in vain—there wasn’t enough room to stop. The rearview mirror shattered from the biker’s bullets.
“Eek!” Fluttershy shouted, but her courage kept her pointing the car straight.
“What the… ugh…” Hoops moaned.
“The pain will soon subside. Now, when I say so, both of you fly out in front of the car,” said Con Mane.
Two ropes from the duffel bag floated out, snaking around Fluttershy and Hoops’s torsos, forming tight harnesses. The other two ends snaked through holes on the car’s front bumper. Con Mane got back into the driver’s seat, pressing a button. A turbocharger accelerated the vehicle. The train now was twenty meters away… ten…
“Now, pegasi!” Mane shouted.
Hoops and Fluttershy ascended, Hoops flying on his broken wing, as the ropes went taut and they pulled the car upward. The bottom of the car glowed a weak green as Con Mane poured all of his levitation magic into helping lift the car. Its tires slowly left the track, and it just barely soared over the train, its front bumper clipping the smokestack on the way up.
“The city is called Dodge for a reason,” Con Mane quipped.
The car soared over the top of the train, as the pursuing motorcycle collided with the locomotive, bursting into flames.
“YEAH! WE DID IT!” Fluttershy shouted.
Hoops collapsed and fell into the backseat, leaving only Fluttershy, Mane, and the turbocharger keeping the car aloft. With his hoof, Mane threw bricks from a duffel bag full of plastic explosives down onto the train cars, which said “Mareicopa Railways” on the side. It undoubtedly contained hundreds of machine guns, grenades, and other weapons destined for the terrorists, Fluttershy thought. As Mane’s magic and Fluttershy’s wings gave out, the car slowly started descended back towards the ground, hitting the tracks again just as the caboose passed them by. Once they were at a safe distance, Con Mane pushed a button on a remote control. The entire train exploded behind them, a tremendous shockwave rocking the whole city.
They were now out of the city limits of Dodge Junction, past the Pest Control roadblocks. They drove northwest towards the Equestrian Republic-controlled military base.
Manehattan Cabinet Meeting Room
All of Rainbow Dash’s cabinet members high-hoofed each other. Fluttershy stood with Dash near the head of the table.
“Let’s give a round of applause to Fluttershy for her bravery!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.
“Thanks, everypony…” she said. “I’m just so glad to be back.”
A tear dripped from her eye.
Rainbow Dash asked, “Do you need some time to rest, or…”
Fluttershy shook her head. “No. The terrorists were really mean and nasty, but I think that the best way to get back at them, and the best way for me to recover, is to just get right back to work.”
“That’s the spirit!” said Lyra Heartstrings.
“A good day’s work always gets my mind off of my troubles… unless my trouble has something to do with work,” said Organized Labor.
Everypony chuckled.
Doctor Stable smiled. “A good night’s rest might be needed, but other than a few bruises and some minor weight loss, Fluttershy is in good health. If a patient both feels and appears well enough to work, I certainly won’t argue!”
“Alright, let’s get straight to business,” said Rainbow Dash. “How soon can we liberate Dodge Junction, and then go on to the other Palomino cities like El Lasso, Albuckerque… maybe even Mareicopa?”
“Mareicopa might be a while, but Dodge Junction is doable pretty soon. We have the city about halfway surrounded right now,” said General Spitfire.
Starlight Glimmer smiled. “My Equals have been softening up some military targets in the city: police stations, occupied government buildings, roadblocks, terrorist training camps, homes—”
“Um… Starlight Glimmer…” Fluttershy started. Glimmer turned to Fluttershy.
“I hate to interrupt you, but while I was in captivity, I heard some bad things about what your guys were doing. That they were firing at civilian homes and schools…”
Fluttershy trailed off as Glimmer narrowed her eyebrows. “You can’t believe everything that other ponies tell you, Fluttershy, especially if they’re terrorists torturing you.”
“Well, they showed me pictures…”
“Any operation is bound to have some collateral damage, Fluttershy,” said General Spitfire. “The Equals’ help in softening up the city is valuable. Normally, I wouldn’t encourage or support untrained volunteer battalions, as Pound knows from his ASDF militia days in Appleloosa.”
Pound Cake nodded.
Spitfire continued, “But I can use all the help I can get. In the past few weeks, around 30% of our overall regular army has abandoned their posts...”
“Thirty percent!?”
“What!?”
“Seriously?”
Spitfire solemnly nodded. “That’s almost a hundred thousand troops, if you’re keeping score. There’s the ones who defected to Mareicopa, and then the battalions that defected to Dodge Junction. Though only about thirty thousand soldiers have outright switched sides. The rest have simply deserted, walked off the base, or resigned. I haven’t seen a military crisis of confidence this bad since Cloudsdale. That’s just the army. Recall that not a single navy ship answers to President Dash or myself, though we do have the Uneighted Kingdom’s navy on our side.”
“Hopefully our solar and lunar committees can get the tides figured out so Soarin will listen to us again,” said Rainbow Dash.
Spitfire chuckled. “I doubt it; he can be pretty stubborn. Though we can hope there will be a mutiny against his rule and at least a few ships come back to us. We’ll need them, and the army, to take back Tall Tale and Vanhoover when the time comes.”
“Speaking of,” said Organized Labor. “I know it’s a tangent, but Big Macintosh and I have some big plans for Tall Tale and Vanhoover, if you’d like to hear them.”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.
“You’ve done a great job spreading the wealth and creating jobs so far,” said Rainbow.
“We could all use some good news. Let’s hear what the Northwest has to look forward to when it comes back into Equestria,” said Pound.
Organized Labor said, “It’ll be a boon to get those ports back. We’ll increase trade, increase taxes on the rich, and lower our deficit. The logging industry will be redirected towards building reasonably-sized housing for the homeless. We won’t let them sell to toothpick makers, or overly-large subdivision or mansion developers anymore. And, as Fluttershy would want, we won’t let them cut down any areas that beavers have made their homes.”
Fluttershy smiled.
Organized Labor continued, “The vineyards will be reformed, too. Think of all of that northwestern farmland being used for grapes that get turned into wine. Millions of wine bottles just sit in rich ponies’ cellars for years, not doing anyone any good. Instead of being made into wine, those grapes could just be eaten immediately by the poor and starving. When we retake Tall Tale, Ponies like Berry Punch won’t be allowed to profit from such crapulence anymore!”
Everypony applauded.
“Let’s not forget that zebras and ponies will be equal as well, under the Equality Act. Those people will be glad that they’ll no longer be living under a fundamentalist government,” said Starlight Glimmer.
“I have another piece of good news,” said Raindrops. “In Cloudsdale, protests are picking up against President Lightning Dust. The cops have killed twenty protesters, and Dust won’t back down, but neither will they. I think that we might have another revolution on our hooves, and this protest movement is itching to get back into Equestria and have an accountable government.”
Rainbow Dash smiled. “Awesome! Hear that, Featherweight? You’ll get to go back to Las Pegasus without needing a passport! And think of all of those thirsty ponies in Equestria we can water with your desalination plant. I hear Applewood’s in a drought, but not for long!”
Featherweight glanced up from the table.
“Yeah, cool,” he muttered, then glanced back down.
“We’re getting off subject here,” said Spitfire. “Anyway, we’ll move into Dodge Junction as soon as we have it entirely surrounded, then we’ll mop up from street to street. Now that they don’t have any hostages, it should be easier, but you never know what they’re capable of…”
Cloudsdale
Thunderclaps, shouting, and the howling of wind filled the skies above Cloudsdale. Freezing sleet and golf-ball sized hail pelted the floating buildings below, smashing glass and denting vehicles. Hundreds of pegasi flew in every direction, screaming and flying away from the mayhem. A brave few weathered the storm: hundreds of uniformed police officers and thousands of protesters. This was no freak act of nature: it was a griffon and pegasus protest. In Cloudsdale, rather than fighting the police with molotovs and rocks, the Encampment-inspired movement against President Lightning Dust fought with thunderbolts and golf-ball sized hail. Pegasus EMT personnel carted off bruised and beaten officers, and others fell to the clouds or ground below, their manes frazzled and fried.
General Thunderlane sighed, observing the storm from inside the safety of the military office. When he, Flitter, Cloudchaser, and Lightning Dust had conspired to secede from Equestria, this wasn’t what he’d wanted. Secession was supposed to bring Cloudsdale away from brutality and violence, not closer to it. But, as in Manehattan, the Cloudsdale police had used brutal tactics against initially-peaceful protesters, leading to months of spiraling violence. Cumulonimbus calamity had ensued.
His hair stood on end as he gazed towards the weather factory a few kilometers away, in the distance.
No, that can’t be it. Is it? Are they really doing this?
Yes, they were. Hundreds of pegasi protesters flew in concentric circles, creating a vortex in the sky that was the precursor to the single largest weather phenomenon that ponykind could create: a hurricane.
During the months of protests against President Lightning Dust, the protesters and police had used varying, usually non-lethal weapons against each other. The protesters had used home-made weather phenomena like lightning bolts and hailstones, while the police had used trained falcons and controlled tornadoes. When not carefully corralled, tornadoes could fly free and randomly destroy houses. The police were usually safe with them, parking small, stationary tornadoes right in front of the halls of Cloud Congress and the Presidential Mansion where the activists liked to picket. They served as excellent area denial, blowing away pegasi from a protest area just like a gravity spell might push away unicorns or earth ponies. However, a few pegasi had been smashed into walls and killed, causing further outrage.
But never, until today, had either police or protesters contemplated using a hurricane as a weapon. The destruction would be widespread and indiscriminate for the entire city. It wouldn’t be just limited to the halls of government and financial district where the protests had been concentrated. Was their anger at President Lightning Dust really that severe?
Thunderlane thought of all that had happened in the Cloud Confederacy since it had seceded. Cloudsdale had been hit by a bad recession in recent years, and President Lightning Dust’s regime was quite corrupt, with bribery, graft, and cronyism running amok. A refugee crisis had overwhelmed the city, with tens of thousands of griffons fleeing from their homelands after Zaporizhia had driven them out. Social services hadn’t kept up, especially given the griffon’s meat-based diet, and they lived in squalor compared to the pegasi. The Equestrian Encampment had inspired the citizens of Cloudsdale to rise up. But now, a dangerous storm was brewing which would make the shootings in Manehattan look benign by comparison.
Only Thunderlane could stop it from happening.
President Lightning Dust sat inside of her office, a fat cigar between her teeth as she gazed out the window at the forming hurricane. She chuckled, shaking her head. The protesters were seriously going to unleash an indiscriminate hurricane, all the while accusing her of brutality? If that wasn't the most cynical thing she'd ever seen, she didn't know what was.
True, the economy of Cloudsdale had suffered, but so had most of the other economies worldwide. There were macroeconomic forces at work beyond her administration's control. Besides, at least after the Cloud Confederacy had seceded, they hadn’t lost any more pegasi in the pointless ground-based Racial War which didn’t concern the sky dwelling cities. At least Lightning Dust was an elected leader, unlike Twilight Sparkle had been.
The concerns of corruption against her administration were entirely unfounded. Did she speak with big business ponies and moneyed interests inside the walls of her meeting room? Of course. Every president or princess had to deal with them; they were the leading figures in the economy. They had contributed to her campaign, and without them, she never would’ve won office, but she was far from beholden to them. The Cloud Congress and the voters still had the final say on economic policy.
As for the griffon refugees, what civilized country could be expected to take in a bunch of immigrants with different customs and traditions? Tens of thousands of griffons had flown to Cloudsdale and Las Pegasus, demanding to be given food, water, and shelter for free. Butcher shops and fishmongers now lined the streets, which appalled most ponies as herbivores. There had been several predatory attacks against ponies. Lightning Dust had merely been enforcing immigration law by deporting illegal griffons, though her opponents accused her of speciesism and cruelty, the same charges that had been levied at Twilight Sparkle. Sure, some of the police might’ve taken petty bribes from griffons and pegasi, and they might’ve been overly rough with protesters or suspects. After seeing what had happened to Twilight Sparkle, though, Lightning Dust didn’t want to see such violence in Cloudsdale.
The so-called “Weather Wars” were getting worse everyday. As long as the police remained loyal and guarded Lightning Dust’s building, the general public would tire of endless street battles. This hurricane would undoubtedly cause death and destruction in areas of the city that had nothing to do with the protest. Dust had ordered the police to stand down and allow the protesters to unleash it, since they were basically shooting themselves in the hoof by doing it. If she could weather this storm, she’d be safe until the next elections. If she lost, though, at least it would be from the people’s peaceful will, and not from a violent overthrow.
President Lightning Dust’s office door opened, and there stood the charcoal pegasus she’d appointed as her top general, along with two other leading military officers.
“Yes, General Thunderlane, how may I help you?” asked Lightning Dust.
He sighed. “Lightning Dust, I’ve been a longtime friend of yours, so I hate to do this. But, because of these protests and riots, I’ll have to ask you to resign.”
Lightning Dust raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? What, is this a coup or something?”
He shook his head. “Just consider it a strong suggestion.”
“These guys are about to burn themselves out and show all of Cloudsdale what a bunch of hooligans they are. We’ll have elections, but I'm not going to step down,” said Lightning Dust.
“They might lose some support,” said Thunderlane, “but whatever they lose in lukewarm supporters, they’ll gain in radicals. They’ve already killed police officers in these clashes. Soon, they won't just be using hailstones and lightning bolts, they'll be using guns and grenade launchers to start a war in this city. When we both wanted to secede from Equestria, war was exactly what we were trying to avoid.”
Lightning Dust hung her head low. She trusted Thunderlane’s military assessment of the situation; she hadn't made him a general for nothing. If he saw the potential for war unless she stepped down, perhaps it was time to allow the people to elect a new leader sooner rather than later.
She quickly nodded. “Alright, I'll prepare a statement and resign before this hurricane strikes.”
Once Lightning Dust resigned, the protesters became peaceful once more. People started sweeping up broken glass and shoveling hail off of the clouds as the sky cleared.
What a perfect analogy, thought Pound Cake. Now that the Racial War had been over for two years, the people’s hazy thoughts about separatism had also cleared. Recent polls showed support in Cloudsdale now roughly 50% for rejoining Equestria, and the thousands of newly-arriving griffon refugees were tipping it closer to reunification. Griffons had respect for their home country’s ally of Equestria, but disliked the independent city’s government that had abandoned Equestria in its hour of need. Many of the refugees and immigrants didn’t vote, though, and Pound hoped to get them more politically active. Undocumented immigrants and refugees weren’t legally allowed to vote in Cloudadale, and Pound disagreed vehemently with that law. They lived there and were affected by politicians, so why shouldn’t they be able to vote? Citizen-only voting was inherently speciesist. Lyra and Bon Bon were busy printing thousands of false documents so that griffons could have their voices heard when Cloudsdale voted in November.
Of course, Las Pegasus was a slightly different story, with only 40% of citizens supporting reunification with Equestria. After the elections were held, what would happen if both cities voted differently? It’d be hard to tie their fates together. They were each located thousands of kilometers away, over different areas of Equestria. Sure, cloud cities could float and be moved, but Cloudsdale, now hovering east of Canterlot, relied on weather and food trade with eastern cities. Horseshoe Bay’s orchards needed the monsoons, and Cloudsdale needed the fruit.
Las Pegasus, though, relied on gambling revenue from its legalized casinos and legalized prostitution. The west coast Applewood valley area, Equestria’s second-most populated metro area after Manehattan, provided LP with a huge market of nearby customers. Featherweight’s desalination plant, also a large employer in Las Pegasus, relied on drought-stricken Applewood customers. Pound didn’t approve of gambling, as the house always won, and rich casinos took advantage of poor addicts. If Las Pegasus rejoined Equestria, they’d have to close down those casinos and their brothels. Sex should never be bought, only freely given. Too many mares and stallions were being exploited by brutal pimps and madams who used their bodies to make money. It reminded Pound of his sister’s Phase Healing business.
Gilda the griffon flew above her fellow protesters, screeching in the griffon language, as they screeched back in approval.
“And now, please welcome our guest speaker… Pound Cake!” Gilda said in the pony language.
Pound jolted. This was his turn to speak. Rainbow Dash and Spitfire would’ve come to address the protesters themselves, but they were both busy coordinating the presidential and Dodge Junction campaigns, respectively. So, they encouraged Pound to give the speech. After all, they said, if he wanted to be president someday, and not just the VP, he’d have to train in public speaking.
Most ponies would be nervous about public speaking. But not Pound Cake! He took the floating microphone and pumped his hoof in the air.
“Helllloooo, Cloudsdale!” he shouted.
They screeched and hollered back in approval.
“Many years ago, I used to live here in Cloudsdale with General Spitfire, back when it was part of Equestria. I loved it! Nowhere else can you move your house if you don’t like where it is. Poor neighborhoods and rich neighborhoods don’t even exist in Cloudsdale, because land doesn’t exist. Anyone can move their house to any patch of sky. If you want a bigger backyard, you don’t have to buy land; you just have to tack more clouds on the back of your house, build a fence, and you can make whole new acres!”
The griffons and ponies cheered.
“I figure that’s why you all love Cloudsdale, too. But Cloudsdale has many faults. As an independent country, it hasn’t taken care of its poorest and most vulnerable citizens… the griffon refugees. As a rich, developed nation, the Cloud Confederacy is obligated to house the poor griffon refugees from war-torn Zebrica. We have an obligation to respect your culture of meat eating, even if we don’t agree with it. Even though she objects to predation, Interior Minister Fluttershy has made tallies of overpopulated, invasive species in Equestria’s national parks. Recently, pony-introduced wild boars and rabbits have crowded out endangered species near Hollow Shades and Horseshoe Bay, destroying their habitats. Even Fluttershy agrees that the only humane thing to do is to cull the population. Unlike zebras or ponies, these invasive animals aren’t sapient. So, if Cloudsdale votes to rejoin Equestria, its griffons will be given the right to hunt those species! The meat supply will go up, and you won’t have to pay forty bits a pound anymore!”
Everyone cheered.
“Finally, the recently-passed Equality Act will help the griffon refugees to receive jobs. Unlike in independent Cloudsdale, it won’t be legal to discriminate against griffons just because they don’t have cutie marks, and don’t speak the pony language very well. You’ll be equal to pegasi if you rejoin Equestria!”
The griffons screeched their approval so violently, that Pound thought his tinnitus would worsen and soon become indistinguishable from screeching. He gave Gilda back the microphone, and she gave him a hug. Tears were in her eyes.
“Thank you, Pound Cake. Thank Fluttershy for me, too. I’ll vote for reunification so that finally, I don’t have to hate myself for being who I am.”
“You’re special just the way you are, Gilda. Never forget that,” said Pound Cake.
In the next opinion poll, the support for Cloudsdale’s reunification with Equestria surpassed 55%.
Ponyville
Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo sat inside of their Cutie Mark Crusader clubhouse. Recently, the clubhouse had received a massive renovation. Apple Bloom had gotten some wood and completely replaced the old floorboards and siding, and had even added in a few new rooms. After all, to train a future generation of Crusaders, they’d need extra space.
At first, as the Equestrian economy had declined, the Crusaders’ spirits had been as low as the stock market. Cash-strapped ponies postponed non-essential purchases like Sweetie Belle’s albums, Apple Bloom’s construction services, or Scootaloo’s physical therapy. But the Crusaders’ spirits had soared ever since they’d had a brilliant idea for making ends meet for themselves, and helping others along the way.
Apple Bloom had started, “You know, even though we can’t put our own cutie marks to good use right now…”
“Those who can’t get a job…” Scootaloo had remarked.
“Teach!” Sweetie Belle had proclaimed.
So two years ago, the Crusaders had renovated their clubhouse into a cutie mark dojo, called Cutie Mark Counseling. Young, markless fillies and colts could come and get cutie mark advice, receive training, and schedule career shadowing.
Given that, when Starlight Glimmer had stood on the Parliamentary Square in Manehattan and had spoken of the evils of cutie marks, the Cutie Mark Crusaders had balked.
“What malarkey!” Sweetie Belle had exclaimed.
“I ain’t ever heard such a tall tale,” Apple Bloom had said. “My mark is wonderful and gives me an ultimate dream. I might not be buildin’ skyscrapers in today’s economy, but someday I will.”
Starlight Glimmer’s taking marks from young children and unwilling police during the protests had frightened the Crusaders of the Equals, and the shootout in Ponyville between Cranky Doodle and Bulky Biceps had only amplified it. Though the Crusaders didn’t think that Glimmer was coming to steal marks in the night like some boogeymare, they were still concerned that Glimmer had a cabinet position and was taking anti-cutie mark actions. For all of its good provisions about species equality, the Crusaders still despised the Equality Act’s mandate that employers not pay heed to cutie marks.
“That’s so stupid. I earned my mark, just like a college degree. It’s my destiny and shows what I’m good at. It’s not a meaningless tattoo or tramp stamp like ponies get when they’re drunk,” Scootaloo had said.
But for all of the Equals’ faults, the Crusaders were equally wary of the Pony Peace Patrol. A week ago, a donkey member of the Ponyville City Council had her house burnt down, with a note saying “Ponyville for Ponies” left taped to her car in the street. The culprit was unknown, but the Patrollers were suspected. The PPP’s actions in Dodge Junction really scared the Crusaders. Despite being called ‘Cutie Mark Counseling’, their service was open to all, including young cow, sheep, and donkey children who didn’t want to follow the tired old milking, shearing, and manual labor paths of their parents. Many of them sought out the CMCs for career advice, and were concerned that forever lacking cutie marks would hinder them.
To them, Scootaloo would proclaim, “True, you can’t get a mark, but that doesn’t make you less of a person. It just means that you get to do more awesome things with your life! You’re like a free agent in sports.”
“While some bullies might call you blank-flank, we call you flexible and open-minded,” Apple Bloom would say.
“You only have to find something that you like to do, that pays the bills, and decide that you want to do it. It’s that simple. Your mark is in your mind. Unlike a cutie mark, you can always change your mind if technology, the economy, or your interests change. There’s no pressure and no compulsion,” Sweetie Belle would conclude.
So, when the Crusaders heard the PPP say that farm animals were somehow inferior to ponies because of their blank flanks, it reminded them of the years of bullying and torment they’d suffered at the hooves of Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara. The Crusaders saw the PPP as just older, better-organized bullies with guns.
In the Crusaders’ estimation, the Encampment-occupied cities like Manehattan and Baltimare had an Equal problem, and the Pest Control-occupied cities like Mareicopa and Dodge Junction had a PPP problem. Neither side was willing to reign in its fringe extremists, and both groups threatened Ponyville’s peace and security. So when Cheerilee and Derpy Hooves had approached the Crusaders regarding neutrality for Ponyville, they’d welcomed it.
Now, all through the streets of Ponyville, hundreds of young, markless foals, lambs, and calves walked, wearing the red and blue Cutie Mark Crusader capes. People cheered them on, giving them candy and kissing their foreheads. The youth smiled, both at the attention and because the stunt had gotten them out of school for the day.
A convoy of armored military vehicles flying the Equestria Republic’s tricolor approached the town from the north, driving south on the road towards the Palomino Desert and the Pest-Control occupied cities. The caped youths stood in the center of the road, putting out their hooves and linking their arms in a chain to block the path.
“Pleeeeeeaaaase don’t bring waaaaar to our town, soldiers,” said a lamb.
“I want to earn my cutie mark someday; I can’t if you start a war!” said a colt.
The low-ranking soldiers smiled at the young children, getting out of the APCs to pat them on the heads, while the leading sergeant and the corporals murmured to each other wondering what to do.
“It’s Azurica all over again, but with kids,” a corporal muttered.
Mayor Cheerilee stepped out into the middle of the road, and the children and their parents cheered her on.
“Hello, soldiers. I am Cheerilee, the mayor of Ponyville, and I forbid you bringing weapons of war into our city. We don’t want to be like Dodge Junction or Baltimare. We want to be Ponyville. We don’t want our marks taken, and we don’t want our farm animal friends lynched. Ponyville is a neutral town, now, and you won’t pass through here.”
“You don’t have the authority to do this, Mayor Cheerilee. Federal orders,” said the leading sergeant. “Stand aside; we have to pass through on this road to Dodge Junction.”
Cheerilee shook her head. “No. You’ll drive around Ponyville, or you won’t drive at all.”
The Sergeant turned to the onlookers and parents of the children. “Townspeople of Ponyville, you should know that your mayor is being emotionally exploitative, using your children to tug on your heartstrings—”
The kids and parents booed the sergeant.
The commanding officers whispered in each other’s ears, while their subordinates looked on with amusement and shock. Finally, after a few minutes, the convoy turned around and left. The townspeople cheered. Through a brave act of defiance by the weakest and most vulnerable among them, they had won their neutrality.
Dodge Junction, October 2028
On the police station’s top floor, Applejack paced, while Silverstar sat at his desk. Outside, gunfire and shouts filled the air. A small explosion tore through a corner store, blowing glass and merchandise all around, but luckily no shoppers were there to be hit. Almost everypony but the militia was in cellars.
Applejack said, “This city is more defenseless than a mouse fightin’ a manticore. The enemy’s now surrounded the whole city, rainin’ down rockets from the mesa overlook. We’re right on a railroad junction, and they can easily rotate their troops. The one thing that kept us from total war was that we had Fluttershy, but now she’s gone. This is turnin’ into Appleloosa again. We need to retreat to another, more easily-defensible Pest Control city. That, or maybe we could hide out near the southern badlands and wage a guerilla war. There’s caves, ravines, and rock formations to take cover in. Plus, there ain't no civilians there. I say we break the encirclement and go tonight.”
Sheriff Silverstar shook his head. “Even if we somehow broke the enemy’s encirclement, we’d die of thirst in the desert. We could go to another city, but they all have civilians, too. It's funny how you're concerned about them gettin’ hit by mortar fire, but you ain't concerned about what’ll happen if we abandon them. Their farms, mines, and cutie marks will be stolen. I ain't gonna give an inch to fascism.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “What about the PPP? They just hung a mule from a tree ‘cause they said he raped a young mare. Lynchings ain’t justice, sheriff.”
Silverstar sighed. “I don't like their bent against non-ponies, either. I wish that mule had gotten a fair trial. But for all its faults, the PPP is still needed to defend Dodge. Compared to the Equals, they’re saints. We're mighty far from defenseless like you said. We have five thousand armed PPP. We have another five thousand ex-military, ex-cops, and defected soldiers helping us, too, plus their armor. This ain't like Appaloosa, because this time, we'll hold the line.”
Applejack shook her head, but didn't bother arguing further with Silverstar. He wasn't seeing reason. Ten thousand rebels against a far larger Equal and Encampment army could maybe hold out for a few months, but at what price? She viewed the destroyed corner store through the window. At this rate, all of Dodge Junction would look like that soon. Applejack recalled that Silverstar hadn’t wanted to retreat from Appleloosa, either, even though it would’ve been best for the civilians.
The office door opened. In walked Silver Spoon, Diamond Tiara, and Cherry Jubilee.
Diamond Tiara angrily pointed at Silverstar and shouted, “The Equals launched a rocket at my new casino, which blew out a wall and broke five slot machines! This is like the Manehattan riots all over again. Jubilee’s PPP forces are there boarding windows and building barricades... but I haven’t seen any of your militia there, Sheriff. How can I rebuild my business empire like this? Where aren’t your forces defending my casino?”
Silverstar raised an eyebrow. “Your casino? The only casino in Dodge is the Pokerface downtown, and that belongs to Chief Little Strongheart and the buffalo. It’s actually a buffalo reservation enclave.”
Cherry Jubilee smiled. “The patrol kicked the buffalo out of the Pokerface. The days of non-ponies owning the only legal casinos in this town are over. Why should only buffalo have casinos in Dodge Junction? Why can’t ponies? Poker, slots, roulette… if there’s gambling, ponies like Diamond Tiara and I will profit from it!”
Applejack could practically see the golden bits appearing in Cherry Jubilee’s eyes. She said, “I used to gamble myself, and I agree the regulations are stupid… but y’all can’t take the casino from the buffalo. That’s just like Fluttershy takin’ your mines. I thought we occupied this town to stop thievery?”
She narrowed her eyes at Silver Spoon, who blushed slightly.
Silverstar said, “AJ’s right. Trust me from experience. Takin’ property from the buffalo will cause conflict. We can’t fight a two-front battle here! Let’s fight fascists instead of becomin’ fascists. I ain’t gonna order my militia to help you steal a casino. Instead, the PPP should give it back, and focus on fightin’ our actual enemy… Manehattan.”
“Sheriff, Diamond Tiara shipped our city thousands of weapons she bought from Copa. Without her help, Dodge would’ve been overrun a week after you seized this police station with rusty rifles. But DT expects a return on investment: new hotels and casinos to replace the ones she lost in Manehattan. You know she can’t only rely on Copa for new business. I get the irony, but the bison have to go,” said Silver Spoon.
“Those guns weren’t free!” Diamond Tiara scoffed.
Cherry Jubilee said, “Silverstar, when you say that we need to be united against the cabal, you’re right. Our coalition depends on our forces working together. So, as the Ponies’ Mayor, I order you to send a squad of fifty soldiers to help defend Pokerface.”
Applejack guffawed. “‘Ponies’ Mayor?’ That’s a hoot. You ain’t Dodge’s real mayor. Where’s ol’ Nellie Stirrup? Nopony’s seen hoof nor hair of her in days. Was it ‘cause she spoke out against your speciesism?”
Cherry Jubilee chuckled. “Good help is so hard to find. Ex-mayor Stirrup couldn’t adequately perform her duties, so she was replaced. If you can’t do your job, Applejack, you’ll be replaced too… and after losing Fluttershy last month, and now failing to support Dodge’s biggest benefactor, you’re doing about as ‘well’ at this job as you did with cherry sorting at Cherry Hill Ranch. I don’t like unreliable employees. Shape up or get out.”
Silverstar said, “I ain’t leavin’ this town defenseless. Thousands of militia ponies and military defectors answer to me, not you, so good luck tryin’ to kick me out… you’d be signin’ your own death warrant.”
Cherry Jubilee smiled. “We’ll see. I just had a pony militia from Tall Tale pledge to come join the Pony Peace Patrol. There’s thousands of guerrillas who fight zebra scum and bomb their churches, but for better pay and weapons, they’re just as willing to fight against buffalo, donkeys, and Equals in Dodge. So maybe I don’t need your forces as much as you think I do, Silverstar. Maybe me asking you to send a few token squads to the casino was only a loyalty test… one that you just failed.”
She, Silver Spoon, and Diamond Tiara turned and left.
When they were alone, Applejack turned to Silverstar and said, “Just one more reason for us to get out of Dodge. Still think the PPP can be trusted as partners?”
Silverstar sighed and shook his head. “No. This is the last straw. The PPP has no respect for the rule of law. Chief Thunderhooves and his buffalo might’ve been fascist SK allies, but Little Strongheart’s buffalo fighters were some of Appleloosa’s best defenders. That casino is rightfully hers.”
“I am glad that you think so, Sheriff.”
Little Strongheart walked through the doorway.
“Little Strongheart!” Applejack exclaimed. Silverstar cracked a smile. The three had a group hug.
“It’s been a few years since I’ve seen you. How have you been? How is your tribe?” asked Applejack.
Chief Little Strongheart smiled. “After my father’s death, the tribe has prospered under my leadership. Since the Racial War’s end, I have encouraged my people to work hard and invest money in productive business ventures like casinos, liquor stores, and tobacco shops. Even in the recession, our wealth has grown.”
“Gamblin’, alcohol, and smokes are recession-proof. You made a wise investment,” said Applejack.
Chief Strongheart chuckled. “It has been difficult, but worthwhile: before you walk, you’ve got to stand. People like Pumpkin Cake inspire us. She was once a penniless orphan, but her hard work has made her a great healer worth billions. She came one friday and healed the buffalo with lightning cannons still fused to their backs, and gave a talk about perseverance.”
“Pumpkin also inspired me,” said Sheriff Silverstar. “I figured that if she could defend her city from fascists, then I could, too. I didn’t have fancy magic like Mareicopa, but I have a lawstallion’s experience, and I did my best… maybe it hasn’t been enough.”
Applejack turned to Strongheart and asked, “So what did y’all do during the protests, when Twilight Sparkle was overthrown?”
Strongheart sighed. “Many buffalo went to Manehattan to protest together with the EFA and the Encampment. Some buffalo supported the Equals for their anti-speciesism message. But as the riots became violent, and looters seized Diamond Tiara’s casinos and hotels, we noticed because of our similar businesses. Then, after the revolution, we waited like everyone else. The tobacco tax and smoking ban didn’t affect the reservations since they have a special status, so business was actually booming for about a month.”
Silverstar chuckled. “I remember. After the tax, tins of snuff tripled in price, so I bought ‘em tax-free on your Dodge reservation.”
Strongheart continued, “When Rainbow Dash threatened to revoke Mareicopa’s special status, we were fearful. Mareicopa has the same degree of autonomy within Equestria as the Buffalo Nation does. Could Rainbow Dash abolish the Buffalo Nation’s special status by the same justifications? Ponies go to Mareicopa to learn magic spells, and they go to our reservations to gamble and buy tobacco, and both are seen as social ills by the Encampment. Though we desire peace, we are willing to fight to defend our tribal sovereignty. Like my father, I will not see it whittled away any further.”
“Now you know why we liberated Dodge. They were comin’ to seize our coal mines and cherry orchards, just like Blueblood came to take Appleloosa’s apples,” said Silverstar.
“And just like the PPP has now taken my casino,” said Little Strongheart. “Thieves hide behind many different masks and justifications on both sides of the political spectrum.”
Applejack sighed. “We’re really sorry about that, Little Strongheart. We’d love to help you get Pokerface back, but if the militias start infightin’ with each other, Dodge will collapse. Heck, it will probably collapse anyway from all these bombshells! We need some sort of plan, some sort of help or backup...”
Silverstar said, “I think I know where we can get it.”
On the top floor of the Mareicopa capitol building was a large meeting table. Rarity sat at the head, with Pumpkin Cake at her right side, and along the table sat Iron Will, Nurse Redheart, Walkabout, Professor Fossil, Vinyl Scratch, and Doctor Stekton.
“Thank you all for coming,” said Rarity. “Now, first on the agenda is the Free Mareicopa’s new constitution. Iron Will, who’s responsible for drafting it, will briefly elaborate.”
Iron Will smiled. “Thanks, Rarity. Iron Will has assembled a list of articles proposed by the city residents at public meetings. The new constitution lists ten fundamental individual freedoms, which the new government may not infringe on: the right to life, property, privacy, conscience, expression, travel, self-determination, self-defense, fair trial when criminally accused, and presumed innocence until proven guilty. The government may neither preferentially treat nor discriminate against any racial, religious, socioeconomic, or corporate group. The government may only exercise specific duties: national defense, public safety, and courtroom arbitrage of disputes. All Free Mareicopa officials will be publically scrutinized to prevent corruption. Officials will be elected biennially by legal citizens over age sixteen with clean criminal records, with the next elections scheduled for November.”
The council members applauded.
“That’s marvelous! And hopefully I am able to win the citizens’ trust, or I may shortly lose my seat,” said Rarity, chuckling.
Walkabout said, “I’ve been traveling all over, talking with representatives in other Pest Control cities like El Lasso, Salt Lick City, and Albuckerque. They wish to join Free Mareicopa. Perhaps a confederation is in order.”
“Iron Will has discussed that at the public meetings. The constitution will provide a way for other cities to join Free Mareicopa,” said Iron Will.
“You know, as weird as this might sound, I think I’ll say it anyway,” said Vinyl Scratch. “We’ve, like, done what the Encampment wanted to do, except they failed and we’re succeeding. From talking to them in Manehattan this summer, I think they’d agree with us a lot, except they’d want us to have, like, welfare programs and stuff. But the Pest Control has done it better than the Encampment. We’re creating a good government without driving up the debt.”
“And we didn’t need to kill anyone to do it,” said Pumpkin Cake. “We didn’t start a war or loot businesses to do it.”
“...Well, there is a battle, at least in Dodge Junction. There’s been a lot of casualties from the conflict over there. They’ve come to Mareicopa for treatment, since Dodge’s hospital is so overwhelmed,” said Nurse Redheart.
Iron Will pounded his fist into the table. “Iron Will despises the PPP vermin! They fly the yellowjacket flag and don’t know what it really means. They say that non-ponies are inferior to ponies? It makes my blood boil, because Iron Will sees many worthless ponies everyday, ones who Iron Will tries to shape into stronger ponies… But we do have freedom of speech. We can’t become fascists like Heartstrings and Bon Bon and ban speech we don’t agree with.”
“With that said, I’ve been in touch with an old friend,” said Rarity. “She and I have had our differences, but while I prefer the big city and she prefers the orchards, we both acknowledge the virtue of hard work, industriousness, and honesty. Please welcome Applejack, where she will apprise us of the Dodge Junction situation.”
Applejack walked through the door, to a round of applause. Rarity and Pumpkin Cake gave hugs to their mutual longtime friend.
“Thanks for the warm welcome, y’all,” said Applejack, blushing as she removed her hat. “I was responsible for the initial seizure of Dodge Junction, along with Sheriff Silverstar, who’s there holdin’ down the fort right now. At first, I wanted to restore Princess Twilight to the throne. But as time went on, I realized that wasn’t gonna happen. Extremists like the PPP started taking’ advantage of the chaos, stealin’ buffalo casinos and lynching donkeys. That ain’t right, either. So I came here to ask for help.”
Pumpkin Cake said, “I’ve been keeping up with your situation, and it doesn’t look good. You’re surrounded on all sides. It reminds me of the Siege of Appleloosa. Back then, I didn’t want to surrender to the Second Kingdom, and I stayed behind with Silverstar… and Trixie captured me and the town. I’m worried the same will happen to Dodge.”
Vinyl Scratch said, “Yeah, and with Manehattan threatening Copa, too, our militia doesn’t have enough spare guys to give Dodge an edge. I mean, I can send a few special forces, but nothing beyond that.”
Applejack shook her head. “I was afraid of that. A retreat seems like the only good option, but we couldn’t evacuate on our own. Silverstar doesn’t want to, but maybe I could convince him if we had a good plan.”
Walkabout asked. “How many fighters are in Dodge, Applejack?”
Applejack said, “Ten thousand total. We have five thousand who Silverstar helped recruit and train over the past couple months, or who defected from the Equestrian military. Then, there’s five thousand or more speciesist PPP fighters who Cherry Jubilee recruited and Diamond Tiara armed. A lot of ‘em streamed in from out of town, from places like Tall Tale and Horseshoe Bay. I’d just as soon leave those guys behind, at the mercy of the Equals, let all the crazies kill each other.”
Walkabout said, “I can teleport your soldiers out, a few at a time. However, it would take several weeks for me to get all five thousand, assuming that Pumpkin lets me use her alicornium.”
Applejack blushed. “Would you? Shucks, that’s mighty nice. I don’t know how I’d repay y’all for this.”
Walkabout grinned. “No worries. If this works, I have a mission for your more capable soldiers, once I’ve vetted them.”
Applejack nodded. “Deal. We’ll keep this under wraps, draw down slowly, and leave a few ex-military guys to evacuate our armor at the end. By the time Jubilee realizes that we’re all gone, she’ll be in that city all by her lonesome. But if we leave the PPP behind in Dodge to fight the Equals, that’d leave the buffalo casino defenseless. They don’t have weapons.”
Doctor Stekton said, “I have a solution.”
They all glanced at him, their eyebrows raised.
He elaborated, “For a few years, I’ve been working on an upgraded buffalo lightning cannon. I have the blueprints for a working model, which straps on like a backpack, rather than requiring surgical attachment. Additionally, this version would have fewer negative health effects, but would be even more powerful. With the right funding, dozens of them could be mass-produced in a matter of weeks.”
Pumpkin asked, “That’s good news, but I’m curious. Why were you working on an improved lightning cannon? The war’s been over for years.”
Stekton shrugged. “It was a hobby that I pursued in my spare time in Criollo. During the war, my failure to produce a perfected lightning cannon was one of my biggest blunders. Even though the war had ended, science does not, and for the sake of my own professional dignity, I continued until I produced a satisfactory prototype.”
“Wow, this guy’s a real go-getter, huh?” asked Nurse Redheart, snarkily.
Everypony in the room laughed, save for Stekton himself.
“So, it’s settled, then,” said Rarity. “Pumpkin Cake and Walkabout will evacuate the moderate Pest Control forces from Dodge Junction, while Vinyl Scratch’s special forces and Dr. Stekton’s machinery will play a support role. Meanwhile, the rest of us will organize elections in Mareicopa and the other Pest Control-held cities to be held on the same day as Manehattan’s in November. Let people across Equestria see that they have an alternative to that madhouse.”
Dodge Junction, November 2028
Pound Cake sat in the air above Dodge, out of snipers’ range. As he rested atop a cloud and poked a spyglass down through the vapor, the city’s residents looked as small as ants.
The encirclement was now complete, with Manehattan-loyal tanks and soldiers surrounding Dodge on all sides, and positioned on the mesa to the northwest. After the defections, it had taken a few months, but they’d finally tightened their noose around the city. In preparation for the operation, the Republic forces had shelled strategic targets to soften up the terrorists. They’d targeted military vehicles, destroyed weapons stashes, and demolished railroad bridges to the west, cutting off weapons shipments from Mareicopa. Unfortunately, as Fluttershy mentioned, the shelling wasn’t wholly accurate, but collateral damage was a small price to pay to free the town. In about an hour, the military and the Equals would go into Dodge on hoof to conduct a mop-up in the city.
Pound and Spitfire had determined that, as the most motivated fighters, the Equals should conduct street warfare in Dodge, accompanied by only a few of Spitfire’s regular military battalions. She’d deliberately chosen her weaker battalions for this mission, so that the brunt of the fighting would be borne by the Equals, most of whom were also inexperienced in fighting. Hopefully, the Equals would win, but only just barely. Ideally, they’d suffer many casualties, putting a damper on them in the future if if they wanted to try any funny business. Manehattan didn’t need another revolution. Of course, Starlight Glimmer was eager to send her forces to Dodge, not realizing Spitfire’s true plan. After Hoops had told Glimmer of his tortures, she had become enraged, dedicating many of her followers to the liberation mission. Though the PPP were extremists, they were also a convenient magnet to draw Equals to Dodge.
As he glanced down, Pound noticed something peculiar. Maybe he wasn’t looking hard enough, but almost all of the enemy fighters that he could see on the streets were PPP members, wearing their signature black hoods and flying black flags emblazoned with white horseshoes. A few yellowjacket flags stood out, but always accompanied by the PPP flags. He thought this was rather strange. Unlike Pumpkin, who probably assumed that everyone in the Encampment was an Equal, Pound acknowledged that the PPP was a fringe minority within the Pest Control movement. So it was rather strange that he only saw PPP.
Three concurrent rocket blasts pummeled the abandoned town square. That was the signal. Flocks of Glimmer’s armed pegasi flew over the city, their RPGs taking out tanks parked at roadblocks. Snipers fired at PPP members who still stood on the streets, the enclosed city becoming a popcorn kettle of gunfire, explosions, and screams. The smell of smoke filled the air.It somewhat reminded Pound Cake of the situation on Parliamentary Square during the Encampment’s nadir, except with much heavier weaponry. Of course, he didn’t believe Silverstar’s lie that the Fearless Fifty had died in a false flag, but he wondered how the Equals had such accurate snipers. They didn’t have cutie marks in sniping, did they? Perhaps, like Glimmer, they had ‘temporarily’ kept their marks.
Pound’s mane stood on end, stray strands sticking up. His legs became prickly, like they’d fallen asleep. He jolted.
To the city’s west, a loud, powerful explosion ripped through a line of tanks, nearly blinding Pound. Lightning bolts rained down on tanks, their metal exteriors coruscating with an electric field. The drivers and gunners’ fur turned dark and singed. The lightning only punched a small hole in the line of tanks making up the encirclement, but this was enough. Dozens of tanks, APCs, and trucks flying yellowjacket flags—only yellowjacket flags—rushed west through the gap.
“Those idiots! They’re letting the buggers escape!” Pound shouted to no one.
A few other Republic tanks turned and tried to pursue the fleeing occupants, but were also struck by lightning bolts. The source became clear: dozens of buffalo galloping along the outskirts of town. Reminded of Appleloosa, Pound had deja vu. He wondered how big a bribe his estranged, Trixie-successor sister had given the buffalo to fight on the same side as speciesists. With the wider gap, yet more Pest Control tanks slipped through. He gritted his teeth. They couldn’t get away, or they’d be used to reinforce the other Pest Control cities in the Palomino desert like Mareicopa, Salt Lick City, and Albuckerque!
To the west, a craggy ravine stood on the Dodge Junction-Azurica highway, with only a single, narrow truss bridge crossing it. Unlike the destroyed railroad bridge across the same ravine, the highway bridge hadn’t been blown up, because Spitfire’s forces had needed it themselves. But if Pound could remove the bridge, the Pest Control’s retreat would be halted.
He brushed off the static, jumped from the cloud, and soared straight towards bridge, quickly passing the tanks. The leading tank was still a kilometer away by the time that Pound took a nosedive, plummeting towards the bridge front-hooves-first. Just as he was mere meters from the bridge, in between its trusses, he turned up, the rainboom bursting forth. He decelerated and turned back to view his handiwork.
The ground shook in a phenomenal burst of colors. A deafening roar filled the air, making his ears ring. Boulders fell from the sides of the ravines, and spiderweb-like cracks raced across the desert surface. The first two of the fast-approaching Pest Control tanks flipped over entirely, while the others skidded back. But the bridge itself stood completely unscathed… a blood red glow enveloping it.
“Ever hear that riddle where the unstoppable force meets the immovable object, Pound?”
He jolted, as Pumpkin Cake floated a few meters from him, her eyes shining white like headlights. Seeing her turned his stomach in knots.
“You!” he shouted. “You fatcat oligarch! If you weren’t my sister, I’d kill you. You started this fight in Dodge Junction! You’re ruining Equestria for all of us!”
She shook her head. “No. You started this fight when you killed police and looted shops in Manehattan, brother. Then, you started the battle in Dodge Junction when you killed civilians with rocket fire. I’m just finishing it. Like our special talents… yours is destructive, while mine is constructive. You demolish shops and infrastructure, while I build and protect it. You take life, while I deliver it. You’ll lose in Equestria, just like you’ve lost today. The immovable will win. Stop this pointless battle, and join with Free Equestria. I think you’ll actually like our new constitution. Why are we fighting?”
“Well, I’m fighting for a better life for everyone, but you’re fighting for the same old system that enriches the upper crust while killing the poor and stopping progress. If anyone should surrender, it’s you. Like today in Dodge Junction, the Equestrian Republic will win. Your guys are retreating, anyway,” said Pound.
The Pest Control tanks started crossing the intact bridge.
Pumpkin shrugged. “Dodge is a victory for Pest Control. My militia just gained hundreds of tanks and thousands of experienced, proven fighters we’ve already teleported out. You’re left with a city your shelling ruined, full of speciesist and Equal extremists fighting each other to the death.”
Pound chuckled. “If the PPP and the Equals all killed each other in Dodge, that’d solve a lot of problems. That was our plan, and I see that it’s your plan, too.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Maybe you aren’t as stupid as I thought. I was predicting you’d give your mark to Glimmer.”
Pound shook his head. “No. The EFA isn’t all Equals, ya know. The Equals are a tiny fringe, like the PPP. Both groups scare me for different reasons. Besides, I use my flight mark to help others, not like your intangibility spell. You’ve used it to grow your empire at the expense of pregnant mares and cancer patients. You’ve extorted fees from them like some mafia don demanding protection money. If they don’t pay, you let them die like that young colt.”
Pumpkin laughed. “Those patients came to me, and if I weren’t there, they would’ve died anyway! I don’t work for free unless I want to, and I have the right to be compensated. You only hate the Equals because Starlight Glimmer is just like you, and you hate yourself. Like Walkabout says, you have tall poppy syndrome. You hate successful ponies, because you’re secretly jealous of us. We make you feel inferior and self-loathing, and you want what we have. You’re just as greedy as me, but at least I’m not afraid to admit that I like having magic and money.”
Pound scoffed. “I’m not Glimmer, and I’m not jealous of you at all. I’d never want to be as selfish as you, and I can’t even believe that we’re related.”
“If you aren’t jealous, explain why don’t you like me using the WINI spell on myself. In your twisted view, am I somehow hurting others by casting it?”
Pound nodded. “Indirectly, yes. You don’t have the right to feel that much joy while there’s still suffering in the world. You could use your energy to help others, instead.”
Pumpkin said, “I won’t help them unless it’s worth my time. I’m my own mare; I’m not some slave tending your Pound Plantation.”
Pound said, “Then someday the government will force you to help, and it’s not ‘slavery,’ it’s generosity. The fat, bloated oligarchs will be cut from the vines of your Pumpkin Patch.”
“What if you couldn’t force me? Would you rather I have no talent to help anyone, or would you rather I have it and use it how I wish?”
“That’s a false choice, but I’d rather you have no talent than use it to run Phase Healing and rake in such a ludicrous, masturbatory sum of money. You’re not a real doctor, you quack! What you do is an evil mockery of medicine!” Pound shouted.
“There you go, you’ve just become Starlight Glimmer. Just because you’re jealous that I have so much, you’d snap your feathers, take my talents from me, and make everyone worse off, including my patients. Your twisted philosophy can only destroy, but you think that you’re right and that I’m evil. Fine. If caring for myself is evil, then I don’t want to be good. I will never submit to you. I will never move a muscle for you! You’re no brother of mine!”
Pound’s rage, which had been building from his sister’s words, exploded. He dashed at Pumpkin to tackle her to the ground. But before he could get there, she had disappeared in a flash of light. He cursed her, and instead flew back to the command center to meet up with Spitfire.
As he raced, his thoughts raced through his head. For all that his sister had said that was wrong, she had said at least one right thing. Pound was unstoppable, and he’d never rest until the Pest Control secessionist cities were restored to a unified Equestria. He would never let Equestria be conquered by the greedy and wealthy like her. He approached the bombed-out Dodge with a conviction that a truly egalitarian society would emerge from the ashes. And maybe someday, once the alicornium was taken from Pumpkin, she’d become a nice, caring pony again, instead of the grotesque monster her magic and money had made her.
Campdrafta, Oatstralia
In the Oatstralian capital streets, residents cowered in doorways and ducked down behind benches. Joeys jumped into pouches of kangaroos, peering out at the strange sight.
Every few minutes, groups of ponies materialized with white teleport flashes, carrying machine guns on their backs. Though some were Oatstralian, most spoke in Equestrian accents. Upon appearing, they walked over to street corners, standing in place like sentries. Dozens of such armed ponies stood.
On one corner, three militia ponies stood. A Campdrafta pegasus police officer approached them, angrily shouting, his wings flared.
“You can’t carry those guns, and you can’t teleport. That’s illegal! Stand down at once!”
“Relax, bro,” said one of the armed ponies in an Applewood accent, holding up his hoof. “We’re here to help out your country. Let’s not have a fight, ‘kay?”
“Y’all Oatsie cops ain’t even issued guns, huh?” asked a second in a Dodge Junction accent. “What would you do if we were a real threat, pepper spray us?” He pointed to the officer’s belt, which only contained pepper spray and a baton.
The officer gasped. “I’m well trained in combat, I’ll have you know!”
“How cute, he thinks he’s a real policeman,” said the Applewood pony. “Wook at the widdle pepper spway! Doncha just wanna pinch his widdle cheeks?”
The three of them laughed.
The officer scowled. “More criminals in the country illegally, I see. Are any of you even Oatstralian?”
“I am. Name’s Dreamtime, from Branacoorah,” said the third, a bright green-maned unicorn mare. “Was recruited by cousin Walkabout. These blokes are here to help turn this country ‘round. We can staht with your attitude: ahmed people are free people, and we’ll never be taken over by Zaporizhia! It’s time for us Oatsies to defend our own continent and quit hiding behind Equestria. Now go play dress-up cop somewhere else!”
She zapped him about ten meters down the street. He ran off.
“Uh, excuse me, ponies…”
The three glanced down to see a young zebra child standing on the sidewalk.
“You aren’t going to… hurt the zebras or ponies here, are you?”
“Of course not, little dude,” said the Applewood pony, smiling. “I have plenty of zebra friends back in Applewood. They’re chill people; it’s just the Zebra Empire leader is pretty cray.”
“Then, ah, why do you have guns and magic? Those are for hurting people,” said the child.
Dreamtime giggled. “Who told you that? I’ve never hurt anypony in my entire life, yet I’m branded a criminal simply for using magic spells, just like you lot are profiled simply for being zebras. All that will change ‘round here; we’ll be united and defended. And me gun? It’s not even loaded. You can hold it, if you’d like.”
The zebra child reluctantly nodded, as Dreamtime floated the gun down to him. He touched it hesitantly at first, drawing his hoof back a few times as if it were a hot stove. Finally, he held it, gazing down the sights, feeling the cold metal of the barrel. After a few minutes of him inspecting the gun, Dreamtime took it back.
With their interaction, and after seeing that the armed ponies weren’t aggressive or carrying loaded guns, some of the cowering citizens were put at ease. They started coming out of hiding, approaching the three.
“My goodness. The regular police would never treat zebras so kindly. They fear and despise us, yet you speak to us as fellow people… you even let that child hold your gun,” said a zebra stallion.
“I’ve always wanted to use magic like yours. Will you teach me?” asked a unicorn.
Dreamtime nodded. “We all will be learning, and not just magic. Pegasi will learn to make tornados, earth ponies will learn to tame dangerous animals, and zebras will learn potion making. Those who can’t will learn to shoot guns. We all will need to be as defended as possible against any foreign invaders. Not just the Zebra Empire, but seaponies, pirates, terrorists, the whole lot.”
“That’s illegal,” said an older earth stallion. “Our country is disahmed for a reason, to prevent violence. We don’t want to be like Equestria, always at war.”
Dreamtime said, “If you don’t like having a gun or a trained attack platypus, then don’t get one. But the laws must change. What if we three had started a massacre? We’d have killed hundreds before competent officers arrived to fight us… and there’s dozens of us here now. Pepper spray and cries of ‘don’t!’ wouldn’t have stopped us. Only armed, free civilians would’ve.”
As if trying to accentuate her point, five more armed ponies appeared in the streets in a flash of light.
“You’re all terrorists!” the old stallion shouted.
Dreamtime said, “If by ‘terrorists,’ you mean that we’re scaring Oatstralia straight, yes, but we’re nonviolent. This is just a drill. Zaporizhia is the true terrorist. The Encampment are the true terrorists, burning down shops and shelling civilian homes in Equestria. You think the Oatstralian branch of the Encampment won’t conduct a coup here? They’re planning one, just like in Manehattan. Cousin Walkabout is just beating them to it…”
“Mister Walkabout, I will not bow to terrorism. The pahliament will not change the laws, as they are in place to protect society. Maybe you’ve forgotten in your years abroad, but Oatstralia is a peaceful country. This isn’t like Equestria; there’s little crime and magic laws aren’t even a political issue here. After that terrible massacre, the representatives overwhelmingly rejected free magic use. You are in a small, bitter minority, upset that you lost.”
Walkabout scowled at Prime Minister Marequarie. “I don’t care if I were the last unicorn; I would never submit to your tyranny! Personal freedoms of minorities should never be up for a vote. Why don’t we jail homosexuals, too, if the majority wants it? With me in charge, we’ll be an impenetrable, independent fortress which Zaporizhia’s armies may never conquer, because our citizens will be free, united, and armed. I do this, because you see what happens with the nanny state; your country is left defenseless, as one giant gaol. Why did we even bother gaining independence from Wingland if we’d just end up a penal colony again?”
Marequarie shook her head. “You’re wrong. That’s all there is to it.”
Walkabout started, “I’m sending you someplace you can never hurt Oatstralia again… someplace with all of the other sheep...”
Walkabout charged up his horn, and Marequarie’s eyes widened.
“...Neigh Zealand!”
With a flash of light, she was gone, leaving just Walkabout and Silverstar standing in her office.
Silverstar chuckled. “I s’pose you’ve one-upped me, Walkabout. I only freed one city and had to retreat, but now you freed a whole country…”
“And we won’t retreat, ever,” said Walkabout. “It’s an island continent. There’s nowhere to retreat to. Your steadfastness will serve Oatstralia well. If you train our new national militia as well as you’ve trained your own, we will never be conquered.”
November 2028:
Maps of the Zebra Emperor's palace, planned escape routes, potion recipes, and many other papers sat on the table before Zecora. This assassination plan had been in the making for years. General Spitfire, former Agent Sparkler, and many other past and current members of Equestria’s military and intelligence services had conspired with Zecora to create the plan. Not only time and effort, but also emotion was invested in the plan. Zecora desperately wanted to kill the emperor for all that he had done, both to her ancestral homeland and to her adopted country of Equestria.
So when Zecora picked up the papers and slowly burned them over the altar candle at Reverend Zeberene’s church, it pained her more than almost every other decision in her life had. The black smoke of the consumed papers lofted into the air, stinging her eyes, knocking her already lose tears to the ground.
“You have done the right thing,” said Zeberene. “In the zebra religion, to assassinate the Emperor would only make him a martyr. His followers would cite an obscure scripture which could allow for death and reincarnation of the savior. I’m not surprised that the Equestrian intelligence services didn't know about this particular passage. It’s in a text written in ancient Swahili that only few of the top holy zebras can translate. But Zaps' priests are among the translators, and one of them would surely have capitalized on any assassination to put himself into the empty throne.”
“It's a good thing that you found us, then,” said Berry Punch.
“Yes…” said Zecora, slowly trailing off. Despite all of the wisdom she had imparted on her friends about being slow to wrath, a huge part of her was still disappointed she wouldn’t get her revenge on the Emperor.
“His day will still come,” said Zarek. “We’ll try him in a court of law, and he’ll suffer the worst punishment that a zealot like him can, to live out the remainder of his natural years in prison with no chance of martyrdom.”
Zeberene smiled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still need to retake Tall Tale and Vanhoover, and then we can focus on liberating the Zebra continent itself. The former we will do soon, but the latter may take years.”
The next day, the streets of Tall Tale filled with many peaceful, unarmed zebras of all ages and both genders. Tens of thousands of them packed the streets, chanting, locking arms, and demanding that Tall Tale and Vanhoover be freed from the rule of Zaporizhia.
At every police station in the city, Zeberene’s Doves sat in the doorways, on the steps, and around the squad cars. They packed every conceivable centimeter. At first, the religious police conducted mass arrests, but still the jails were overflowing and there was no room to put the thousands who remained. The tear gas didn’t work, as the Doves had brought gas masks. A few panicked lieutenants gave the order to start shooting, but their officers disobeyed. Reverend Zeberene knew his scripture, and had his followers hand out helpful pamphlets to the police.
“Zoolokai 3:42: For one to harm a nonviolent zebra is a grave sin in the eyes of God. The griffons hunt and prey on His chosen people, incurring his wrath. Those zebras who wantonly kill their own kin shall receive the same fate as griffon hunters in the afterlife.”
Even after the chameleon-disguised police in Tall Tale had successfully suppressed years of militancy and guerilla warfare, they ironically had no response to massive, peaceful protests. Perhaps Zaporizhia could’ve relied on his less-devout followers to enforce his power in the city, but he had vetted the force in Tall Tale a little too well, and they took scripture literally. And with the power grid and banking system down, any financial incentive for Zebra authorities to skirt the religious texts was entirely gone.
Outside of the city hall, courthouse, and Zebra Empire administrative building, thousands of Doves stood on the steps. They were soon joined by thousands more ponies and secular zebras who came out to support the protest because they were sick of week after week of zero electricity in the city.
Reverend Zeberene stood on the steps of city hall, the Zaporizhia loyalists trapped inside but refusing to come out.
Zeberene preached, “The residents of Tall Tale, pony and zebra alike, have spoken! The false prophet Zaporizhia shall have no power in our city, nor in Vanhoover. Instead, we will have a new era of love and tolerance towards one another. God loves all of his children, no matter if they are striped or solid coated. As his children, we should follow his example, and judge one another not as zebra or pony, but as fellow people in his eyes.”
The roaring of the crowd shook the entire streets.
“For church and state to mix is a potion far more dangerous than the chameleon brews. Now, our cities will vote to determine their own secular course, free from religious authority like the Emperor’s!”
Zeberene gave almost no other hints at the ultimate direction of Tall Tale. Though most of the militant atheists and speciesist extremists had gone to fight in Dodge Junction against the Equals, there were still a few violent ponies in Tall Tale, and violent zebras as well. Zeberene didn’t want to say anything that might provoke an insurgency again, and Tall Tale’s future course was an uncertain, contentious issue. Even amongst the partisans, there was disagreement between Zarek, Zecora, Berry Punch, and Discount as to the ultimate fate of Tall Tale: whether it would exist as an independent city or come under Manehattan’s rule once again. The four of them had finally agreed to Zeberene’s idea, that the residents of the city be allowed to vote on its fate.
While Zeberene took a pause from speaking to rest, Zecora walked off to use the restroom. Once she was away from the crowd, a somewhat timid, cream-colored pegasus flew up to her.
“Uh… Zecora?”
Zecora raised an eyebrow. She believed that she knew this pony, but could not recall from where…
“I’m Featherweight. Decades ago, I used to go to school in Ponyville, and we met a few times,” he said. “Nowadays, I’m the Finance Minister of the Equestrian Republic.”
Zecora nodded. “Hello, old friend. It is nice to see you again. What brings you so far from Manehattan? Are you here to ensure a reunification happens?”
Featherweight vigorously shook his head. “No. I’m actually here to warn you. I’ve heard terrible things in the cabinet meetings, and I’ve got them all on tape. I put in my two weeks’ notice yesterday, but didn’t tell Rainbow Dash why I was resigning. Now I’m telling you. Tall Tale and Vanhoover can’t vote to live under Manehattan. Organized Labor’s plans for the country will drive it into bankruptcy, and her plans for this city will drive its economy into ruin. Her unions are going to seize the ports, vineyards, and lumber yards, and centrally control them. It’ll be just as bad as Zaporizhia.”
Zecora’s jaw was agape. “Of that plan, this is the first I have heard. Where are the other cabinet members to speak these words?”
“They haven’t had the chance to send their goons here yet. Since you aren’t following Spitfire’s timetable anymore, this massive protest comes a surprise to the cabinet, and me. I only just so happened to be in the city today. I didn’t even know anything was planned. Quite serendipitous, though. We must discuss a strategy.”
Zecora nodded. “To avoid economic disaster would be wise. But to whom should our city’s future be tied? I do not believe that our cities should be alone. We could never field our own navy, and to Zaporizhia’s attacks, we’d be quite prone.”
Featherweight smiled. “I’ve been talking to a certain navy general through secret channels. After Starlight Glimmer and General Spitfire started recklessly shelling Dodge Junction, General Soarin and I were both appalled. We felt it was an unnecessary escalation of violence, and deadly to civilians. Soarin said that it reminded him of Zaporizhia’s wanton mortar attacks against Tall Tale and Vanhoover during the Racial War. Twilight Sparkle ordered Soarin to preserve peace in Equestria. He will extend his naval protection to the Northwest. Of course, his naval protection does little to prevent land and air attacks from Manehattan, like the attacks launched on Dodge Junction. For that, we need an ally who already has a land-based force. I know just the alliance. Tell me, Zecora, are you familiar with Rarity and Pumpkin Cake?”
Zecora smiled. “I know them very well.”
Rarity, Pumpkin Cake, Fancy Pants, Zecora, Berry Punch, and Featherweight sat in the meeting room of the Maricopa administrative building.
“This is rather ironic, I must say,” said Fancy Pants. “The last time that I was in this room, I was preparing Mareicopa to be a proud unicorn city. Now that the war is over, I am here helping the Second Kingdom’s former adversaries to reclaim Tall Tale and Vanhoover. What strange times these are.”
“And here I am helping out the former propaganda minister. I just hope that you remember how to spread a message,” said Featherweight.
Fancy Pants smiled. “Before I was the propaganda minister, I worked with the publishing industry. I am well adept at tailoring messages. Now, before developing the message, we must know our target audience.”
Zecora said, “Tall Tale and Vanhoover are happy to be free of Zaporizhia’s terror. Even many who once supported Zebra Empire rule now realize their error. For the cities now, an uncertain future awaits. When talking of possibly reuniting under Manehattan, many ponies hesitate. The Encampment and revolution against Twilight have made many ponies like Berry Punch uneasy. Though the equality message of the Encampment, to some zebras like Zarek, is very appealing. To Zarek, I take the opposite view. But his position is held by ponies and zebras numbering quite a few.”
“I’m worried that the city might be dividing again, pretty soon,” said Berry Punch. “And after we worked so hard to unite everyone…”
Fancy Pants said, “I have picked up a few key points. First, we must call for unity, the same that Zeberene so successfully preached. Second, we must dispel the notion that Manehattanite rule is good. Third, we must provide a firm, solid future for the Northwest to put the people’s uneasy minds at peace.”
“In short, we need a true leader, a true unifying voice, to sell them on joining our confederacy,” said Rarity.
“You have quite a task on your hooves, Rarity,” said Pumpkin Cake.
Rarity chuckled. “Me? No, darling, because I won’t be giving this speech at all. You will.”
Pumpkin jolted. “What?”
Rarity nodded. “I said before that I would be grooming you for leadership, and this is your first major test.”
Fancy Pants put his chin on his hoof. “Interesting… Blueblood was young when he created the Second Kingdom, but he was much older than eighteen. Age might be a disadvantage to Pumpkin in terms of her perceived inexperience. Though her youth might be advantageous in two ways. One, immigration and high birthrates have made Tall Tale’s average age quite young. Two, Pumpkin’s youth could help portray an image of a new confederacy and new ideas to the city in a way that a middle-aged mare like Rarity wouldn’t be able to… no offense, Rarity.”
“None taken.”
Zecora said, “Pumpkin Cake also has another advantage over Rarity. She spent two years living with me.”
“It’s true. Zecora was like a second mother to me,” said Pumpkin.
Fancy Pants smiled. “That’s fantastic. A history of quasi-familial relations with a zebra will help you relate to the zebras in Tall Tale, and will help them trust you. Do you have any photographs of your time together?”
“I have a few, but it’s not like I’m going to pass them around,” said Pumpkin.
Fancy Pants chuckled. “No need for that. We will be using the latest color projector technology, fed off of an independent generator. I plan on projecting pictures to go along with your speech onto the sides of skyscrapers. In the pitch-black city night, everyone in town will see it! This will help provide evidence for your claims. A picture is worth a thousand words. We will also splice in some audio from Mr. Featherweight’s cabinet meeting tapes.”
“Think of it like a business proposal to a group of investors, Pumpkin,” said Rarity. “You have to convince them to invest in your venture. In this case, by joining their cities to the new confederacy.”
At night, Pumpkin addressed the massive crowds in Tall Tale, standing on a street fronting its tallest skyscraper. All of the window lights and streetlights were out, leaving only the light of the moon and the Doves’ altar candles to illuminate the city.
She said, “Hello, citizens of Tall Tale. Congratulations on liberating yourselves from Emperor Zaporizhia!”
The crowd cheered.
She continued, “Some of you are eager to come under Manehattan’s rule again, I venture?”
About half of the crowd cheered.
Pumpkin shook her head. “That’s unwise. Manehattan is a cabal, running up massive debts, and President Rainbow Dash surrounds herself with thugs. Equality Minister Starlight Glimmer’s gang massacred police and stole children’s cutie marks, brainwashing them. Justice Minister Raindrops is a rogue prosecutor, falsely accusing ponies of invented ‘crimes’, meanwhile ignoring the east coast’s soaring murder and robbery epidemic. Cultural Ministers Lyra and Bon Bon censor critics of the government. Health Minister Doctor Stable wants the power of life or death over you. Labor Minister Organized Labor plunders industry; her unions run productive factories into the ground. Upon reunification, the Manehattan cabal plans the same fate for Tall Tale. You may think that Manehattanite rule will bring freedom to Tall Tale, but in reality, Rainbow Dash is just as tyrannical as Zaporizhia.”
As Pumpkin spoke each example, giant projections flashed onto the front of the skyscraper. A picture of looters sacking a Manehattan small business was shown side-by-side with zebra police smashing beer kegs outside of a Tall Tale tavern. A photo of a long line outside of a Zebra Empire-run hospital in Tall Tale was shown next to a long line outside of Fearless Fifty Medical in Manehattan. The union-seized JSUC munitions factory in Fillydelphia was shown, its machinery in disrepair, along with a photo of the busted Coltumbia River dam. The crowd booed at the sight of the broken dam. Short portions of Featherweight’s cabinet meeting tapes played, eliciting more boos from lumberjacks and vineyard workers.
Pumpkin continued, “Like Zaporizhia, the cabal wants you to sacrifice worldly pleasures like gambling, alcohol, tobacco, coal, oil, sex, money, and magic. Instead of doing this to be ascetic, though, they do this for the sake of egalitarianism. The Encampment’s religion is so-called equality, and their god is the government which is supposed to deliver them from darkness, just as Zaporizhia would supposedly deliver his chosen people from darkness. Ironically, the fraudster gave you nothing but darkness.”
Pumpkin motioned out to the blackened skyscrapers and streetlamps of Tall Tale. She pointed up at the overcast sky, perpetually cloudy without the pegasi teams to clear it.
She continued, “To the fascist cabal, it’s not fair if some people are stronger, smarter, handsomer, wealthier, or happier than others. That might make their lessers jealous. Someday, just as Glimmer takes cutie marks from the endowed to please the talentless, Manehattan will take wings from pegasi to please the grounded, eyes from the sighted to please the blind, and life from the living the please the dead. If you hold equality as your highest virtue, you are embracing a ministry of death.”
The crowd muttered. Maybe that wasn’t the right way to make that point. Pumpkin quickly clarified.
“Of course, not all equality is bad. The state must treat its citizens equally under the law. Violations of that principle can lead to terrible things like the zebra internment under Twilight. Terrorist groups like the so-called Pony ‘Peace’ Patrol are misguided. As the Reverend Zeberene says, we should judge a person by his merit and accomplishments, not his species. Though the Encampment claims to fight against speciesism and racism, they actually divide Equestrians. Starlight Glimmer’s Equality Act does nothing to promote equality, instead demanding that employers pay no mind to cutie marks in hiring and firing!”
The crowd booed as the relevant section of the Equality Act flashed on the tower, the words as big as the windows.
“That’s right. Glimmer wants us to ignore what makes ponies and zebras so talented. The marks that only our two species, out of all others, can attain.”
The projection showed a photograph of a smiling Pumpkin at age thirteen, taken shortly after she received her cutie mark in intangibility magic, proudly displaying it for the camera. She stood in the dark Everfree Forest, next to Zecora, her own cutie mark a sun-spiral representing the illumination of her wisdom. A spotlight shone on the real-life Zecora, standing at Pumpkin’s side on stage. The audience clapped for her, and she bowed.
Pumpkin said, “I lived with Zecora for two years of my life. After my parents were killed, she raised me. I love her like a mother. She helped me find my special talent and hone my magical abilities. She taught me potion-making and many spells, and she also taught me what incredible people zebras can be. So when I found out she was imprisoned during the Racial War, along with hundreds of other innocent zebras, it angered me. General Spitfire is incompetent and racist for organizing the internment. She shouldn’t be serving as Rainbow Dash’s general in Manehattan!”
General Spitfire’s picture appeared on the tower, showing her, Rainbow Dash, and Pound Cake all together at a Wonderbolts camp. This picture got more boos than anything else had gotten all night.
Pumpkin chuckled. “What hypocrites, screaming about prejudice while being bigots themselves. So, after all I’ve shown you tonight, please raise your hoof if any of you still wish to unite with Manehattan.”
Out of a crowd of thousands and thousands of people, less than a hundred hooves were raised.
Pumpkin smiled. “That’s what I thought. Tall Tale and Vanhoover need another option. Join Free Equestria. In our new confederacy, business will thrive. Taverns, casinos, brothels, and any other sort of voluntary business can be opened in Tall Tale. Mining regulations will be repealed, bringing jobs to this city. When Rarity and I ran Magic Mining Mares, my intangibility spell gave me an advantage. But now, you won’t need a special spell to mine the mountains’ vast wealth.”
A picture of Rarity and Pumpkin mining pink diamonds showed up on screen. Everyone cheered.
Pumpkin continued, “Government roles will be reduced to the police, the military, and the courts. Everything else will be handled by the private sector. Immigration will be made much easier, and all of your families can come here from Zebrica. The police will be retrained and won’t go after zebras just for their species. If you need any proof that my plan will work, just look at Oatstralia. Since the coup against Marequarie last month, the mining business is booming, with three new mines opening. Thanks to police reform, the zebra immigrants in Sydneigh aren’t profiled anymore. With Oatstralia’s magic laws repealed, the zebras are no longer criminals for making or drinking potions. Arrests are down by half, and violent crime is down by ten percent. In Free Equestria, Mareicopa has had similar peace and prosperity. So can Tall Tale and Vanhoover!”
The crowd cheered.
Pumpkin concluded, “Together, we’ll all be prosperous, united, and free!”
The crowd chanted, “Free Equestria! Free Equestria! Free Equestria!”
Baltimare, November 2028
The weight of betrayal hung over Luna’s head as she soared in the night sky above Baltimare. Four batpony guards—loyal guards—flew beside her, practically invisible to those on the ground.
When Starlight Glimmer had stolen Luna’s cutie mark, she did it a bit too well. Once the initial shock of losing her mark wore off, Luna began to wonder. How did Glimmer know exactly where to teleport into the courtyard? How did she know exactly where the guards and Luna would be standing? How did she get out with Luna’s mark before the batpony screech could disable her? Luna was especially curious as to why the friendly fire incident had happened, when one of her guards had misfired his screech and paralyzed Luna instead of Glimmer, enabling Glimmer to more easily take Luna’s mark. The batponies trained for years to be as accurate with their ultrasonic attacks as possible. A competent batpony could channel his sonic wave in a beam accurate enough to disable an attacker hiding in a large crowd of innocents, leaving everyone else unharmed.
Luna had given intense scrutiny to Giles, the batpony who had ‘accidentally’ fired his sonic beam at her. After searching his quarters, she discovered Equal literature. When she confronted the guard, he confessed all. As batponies were a small minority that many ponies were suspicious or afraid of, their career options were usually limited to either circus freak, horror movie actor, or Royal Guard. Giles had never truly wanted to do any of those things. He’d wanted to be a psychologist, but what pony would go to talk through their fears with a shrink who was himself a creature from a nightmare?
“It would be like hiring an arsonist to put out fires,” he lamented.
So naturally, Glimmer’s message of equality had spoken to Giles. He and Glimmer concocted a secret plan to steal Luna’s cutie mark and further the goal of revolution.
Luna was outraged, though given her thousand year stint as Nightmare Moon, she certainly understood Giles’ desire to be accepted and loved by his peers. So, she promised not to have him executed if he told her everything he knew about Glimmer.
That night in Baltimare, there was nowhere for Glimmer to hide. The batpony’s ultrasonic waves, in addition to being a weapon, also enabled them to ‘see’ around corners and ‘see’ entire rooms from under door cracks, through open windows. Luna blasted a hole in the roof with a magical beam, the burning sides of the hole singing and glowing orange with embers until they blackened. The four batponies whooshed down into the hole, their wings silent in the dark. Their ultrasonic chirps and clicks filled the hallways as they searched the compound. Starlight Glimmer was sleeping right where Giles had said that she would be… by the cutie mark vat.
Luna teleported over. “You will never steal another mark again, Starlight Glimmer!”
Glimmer frantically shrouded herself with intangibility, but it was no use. Not even intangibility could protect a pony from hearing the soul-wracking shriek of four batponies combined, like some barbershop quartet from tartarus. Though she would feel no pain and suffer no ear damage just yet, the mere spike in brain activity from perceiving such a tremendously loud sound was enough to immobilize her. Presently, her spell wore off as her concentration broke. All four guards concentrated their sonic blasts on her head, just centimeters away. Her own screams of tortured agony were whispers compared to their utter loudness. Glimmer’s eardrums bled, then her eyes. Finally, her head exploded into mush all over the wall.
With one, final, great shriek, the batponies shattered the glass of the cutie mark vat. With nothing to restrain the thousands of marks anymore, they flew out of the hole in the roof like a flock of birds, glowing and sparkling as they raced all across Equestria back to their owners. As Luna was standing right next to the vat, her cutie mark was the first to return to her flank. It glowed and shimmered, and she smiled.
Over the next few weeks, as Luna surveyed the dreams and nightmares of her former subjects, she received a mix of agony and ecstasy. In one nightmare, an elderly unicorn painter dreaded the sudden return of her mark, having a nightmare about literally painting herself into a corner with her compulsion. But in one fantastic dream, a young filly reunited with her softball cutie mark finally hit her first home run in the majors. An older paleontologist dreamt of going back to the time of wooly mammoths and riding atop the back of one.
But while those dreams all had a chance of happening in real life, Luna’s own personal dream, raising the moon again for her subjects, would never and could never come true again. She was no longer a princess and had no authority to raise it. She felt saddened by this, but happy that she’d eased the troubled minds of so many of her subjects who Glimmer had robbed. As for the ponies who were plagued with nightmares from having their marks again, Luna certainly had her work cut out for her in soothing their thoughts.
But now, she had the mark to do it with.
Ponyville, December 2028:
In the town hall, Derpy Hooves twiddled her hooves, anxious about the meeting that she’d arranged. She was the first arrival, and was now awaiting the other participants. Though former best friends, they were now as far apart as Derpy’s eyes. As their friendship had torn, so had Equestria.
A natural, continental divide stretched across Equestria from the Crystal Empire in the north to the Badlands in the south. The divide was made of geographic features: the Flatlands, the Canterlot mountains, the Everfree Forest, and the Galloping Gorge. Rainwater falling on the east or west side of the divide would flow downstream to the east or west coast, respectively. But now, the continental divide was a political divide, too. All cities and towns west of it now claimed to be the Confederation of Free Equestria. They included Applewood, Tall Tale, Mareicopa, Las Pegasus, Vanhoover, Salt Lick City, El Lasso, and Albuckerque, among others. All cities east of that divide now claimed to be the Equestrian Republic. These included Manehattan, Cloudsdale, Fillydelphia, Baltimare, Horseshoe Bay, Whinnyapolis, Dodge Junction, and Hollow Shades, among others.
Equestria’s political divisions had now gone fully international. Almost every major world power had picked a side. The Second Duchy, Criollo, and Oatstralia had signed a mutual defense treaty with Free Equestria called the Western Alliance, while the Stirrupean Union, Brayzil, and Neigh Zealand had signed a mutual defense treaty with the Equestrian Republic called the Eastern Alliance. The Crystal Empire, Zebra Empire, and the remnants of the Griffon nation were the only major powers who hadn’t yet picked a side.
In the midst of all of this division and strife, there stood one single town smack-dab in the middle of Equestria. It sat atop both the continental and political divide, and was determined to preserve its neutrality. It was little, inconsequential Ponyville, still proudly fluttering the ancient flag of the pony sisters, Luna and Celestia, who had ruled together for eons over the first ever united Equestria. Cheerilee, Derpy, the Crusaders, and all other Ponyvillians desperately hoped that those days of harmony could return again. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Maybe there could be no unified Equestria without Celestia. After all, her death had caused a power vacuum which her nephew Prince Blueblood had eagerly filled in Canterlot. He created the Second Kingdom and sparked the Racial War to begin with, which had evolved over the years into a much larger conflict and division that encompassed not just Canterlot, but nearly every city and town in Equestria, and many countries around the world.
The conflict was mostly words and barbs at this point, and no actual shots had been fired since the Siege of Dodge Junction. If Derpy Hooves’s meeting couldn’t reunify Equestria, then at least she hoped she could keep the conflict a war of words instead of a worldwide shooting war.
The door opened, and in walked the arrivals from the Crystal Empire. Twilight Sparkle sauntered in, her head hung low, while Pinkie Pie bounded in, hopping up and down.
“Wow, Ponyville hasn’t changed a bit since I was here last! Well, except for all of the anxious ponies sitting around chatting nervously, worried that war could break out at any minute—”
Twilight Sparkle zipped Pinkie’s mouth closed with magic.
“Hello, Derpy,” Twilight said. “Thanks for having us here. Picking Ponyville was a great idea. It’s a neutral town that all of us are familiar with. Maybe it can be the way to common ground.”
Derpy blushed. “Oh, well I’m glad you liked my idea. I’ve never gotten a compliment from a princess, before.”
“The only thing that’s missing here is cake, streamers, and party favors that represent unity! Ooh, like silly string to tie ponies together, or Chineighse hoof traps that ponies can’t pull their hooves out of!”
Derpy giggled. “That idea’s kinda silly.... I like it, though!”
The door opened once more, and in walked Free Equestrian Treasurer Applejack and Director Rarity, who’d won the Free Equestrian elections in November.
“Rarity! Applejack!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, rushing over and embracing them.
“Howdy, Pinkie Pie. How’s that rock candy farm goin’?”
“It’s hard, hard work! I don’t know how you farmed for so long, Applejack. Even my callouses have callouses!”
Applejack chuckled. “Hard work’ll do that…” she paused. “Ugh... Leave it to Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, the two pegasi, to be late.”
“We’re right here, AJ,” said Fluttershy.
The five ponies turned around to see Interior Minister Fluttershy rush through the door, carried by the newly elected President Rainbow Dash in her hooves.
“Sorrrry, Applejack,” Rainbow Dash muttered. “Some of us were giving rides to our friends... that some of us kept locked in a basement for a month!”
Applejack shook her head. “Fluttershy’s treatment wasn’t my call. The Punisher was one of Jubilee’s stallions, and he went way too far. I asked him to lay off the waterboardin’, but he wouldn’t listen to me, only to Jubilee. I’m truly sorry for that.”
“Yeah, right. The Element of Hypocrisy, lying again,” said Rainbow.
“Girls, please,” said Twilight, holding out her hooves between them. “We have to start from a position of reconciliation, or we’ll never get anywhere.”
“Well, unless you count going around in circles to be going somewhere, which I do!” Pinkie exclaimed. She spun around on her hooves, making herself dizzy until Twilight grabbed her with magic to make her stop.
“I forgive you, Applejack. I know that you wouldn’t have had me tortured if you could’ve helped it,” said Fluttershy.
“Thanks, Flutters,” said Applejack. They gave each other a hug.
Twilight smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere! So, Director Rarity and President Rainbow Dash. You both know that I’m not trying to reclaim the throne, here. I’m here just as a friend, to help my friends and Equestria reconcile. Now, both of you claim to be the democratically-elected leaders of Equestria—all of Equestria. In a situation where there are these international alliances, that can be very dangerous, because neither of you recognizes the other government as legitimate.””
“Because Free Equestria is phony,” said Rainbow Dash. “Equestria’s capital is Manehattan, where I have control, and it’s always been Manehattan! Also—”
Fluttershy tugged on Rainbow’s mane. She whispered, “Uh, Rainbow… technically, um, Canterlot used to be Equestria’s capital, and was for centuries, but now it’s independent and aligned with them…”
“Quiet,” said Rainbow Dash. “As I was saying, your elections were a fraud. You just let anypony or corporation with enough money run unlimited radio and newspaper ads because it’s ‘free speech.’ What a crock. I’m not a physicist or economist or anything, but I’m pretty sure money isn’t speech. So, guess who won? The Rarity-Pumpkin ticket, with two mares worth billions. Gee, what a cooincidence! Oh, and you only let citizens without criminal records vote. Way to exclude thousands of people’s opinions.”
“We spent only our own money, and accepted no contributions, so that nopony could accuse us of being bought off by business interests. I thought that you didn’t like corruption, Rainbow Dash?” asked Rarity.
“You wanna talk about a truly fake election? Let’s talk about Manehattan’s ‘elections’,” said Applejack, putting her hooves in air quotes. “Y’all sit up there in Manehattan, promisin’ free healthcare, free maternity leave, free this, free that, drivin’ Equestria into debt. You’re like a kid runnin’ for class president who promises to put soda in the water fountains. The gullible masses vote for you, ‘cause they’re votin’ themselves a paycheck. That’s bribery! And you let millions of illegal burros from Brayzil vote, who ain’t even citizens, don’t understand how Equestria works, and don’t even pay taxes.”
Fluttershy gasped. “It would be speciesist to not let them vote! How could you even suggest we disenfranchise them, meanies?”
Twilight asked, “What if Equestria held new elections, under parameters that both east and west could agree to?”
Rainbow Dash scoffed. “Not much we’d agree on.”
Rarity nodded. “In a rare flash of insight, Rainbow Dash is at least right on that point. Non-citizens and felons can’t be allowed to vote in Equestria. Nor can we limit the free speech of candidates. I refuse to compromise on these points.“
“Well I won’t, either! And I won’t live in an Equestria where ponies die in the streets instead of getting government help,” said Rainbow.
“Those ponies should work, not lay around puttin’ our country in debt!” Applejack shouted.
“That’s so unkind! You aren’t the pony that I knew here in Ponyville,” said Fluttershy.
“Neither are you, Fluttershy,” Rarity scoffed. “My old spa partner from Ponyville would never have pretended that she understood economics. She was a quiet forest ranger who knew when her expertise and opinion ended and her emotions began. She exercised deference and restraint like a true lady.”
”I’m still Pinkie Pie!” Pinkie exclaimed, frowning. “And I still hate it when my friends don’t get along!”
“I think it’s fair to say that we’ve all changed. War changes ponies. But we all used to be such great friends,” said Twilight. “Can’t you all remember that?”
“Yeah, you guys were something special,” said Derpy Hooves. “You saved this town so many times, I couldn’t even keep track. Now you need to come together to save Equestria.”
“I have to stay loyal to my beliefs, and loyal to the oath I took in Manehattan to protect the welfare of the Equestrian public. Friends come second,” said Rainbow Dash, shaking her head.
“Such a twisted definition of ‘generosity’ as forced redistribution and public welfare can not be allowed to stand in Equestria. It would be like wearing stripes and plaid together,” said Rarity, turning her chin up.
“Friends or no, I ain’t gonna compromise my beliefs. That would be dishonest of me,” said Applejack.
“If my former friends have become unkind, then… I hate to say it… but… they’re no friends of mine anymore,” said Fluttershy, lowering her head.
The group stood in silence for the next five minutes, with nopony saying a word.
Finally, Derpy Hooves raised a hoof. “Uh.. girls? About that treaty—”
“There IS no treaty! Don’t you get it, Derpy?” Rainbow Dash shouted. “I mean, we won’t launch a war if the west won’t, but you Free Equestria fatcats had better just watch your back. This week, we signed a treaty with Queen Pupa of the Changeling Collective. Turns out that flying yellowjacket flags calling for their extermination drives them into the arms of the side that isn’t so specieist! Funny how that works, huh?”
Rarity laughed. “Figures that you rogues would sign a treaty with a parasitic nation.”
“They’re not parasites! The drones have been living among us for years, most of them working in terrible conditions. They disguise as pony prostitutes in illegal brothels just to get scraps of love,” said Fluttershy. “They’re terribly misunderstood by speciesists like you. Now, we can help them finally come out of the shadows and quit being exploited for lovemaking.”
“Well, if they ‘come out of the shadows’ to attack Free Equestria, rest assured that we will respond with our own allies,” said Rarity. “King Corona of the Dragons is quite the accomplished gentledrake. Given your continuous political rhetoric attacking independently wealthy people, this should come as no surprise. Last week, the dragons sided with the west, where high achievers are celebrated and looked to for inspiration.”
Rainbow Dash scoffed. “I shoulda known you’d side with thieving fatcats like the dragons.”
Applejack hooted. “Thieves? What a whopper. The dragons built their fortunes honestly through plying their skills. Earthmovin’, transportation, smelting ores, slash-and-burn of Brayzillian rainforests—”
Fluttershy shuddered.
Rarity shrugged. “We have said all that needs to be said. It would be a terrible mistake for you ruffians to trifle with Free Equestria or the Western Alliance.”
Rainbow stuck out her chest. “Oh yeah? Well don’t mess with the Republic or the Eastern Alliance, or you’ll be toast!”
Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Rarity all stormed out of the town hall.
“Well, gosh… that didn’t go so well,” said Derpy Hooves. “I shouldn’t have even had this meeting. Now I feel guilty about those dragons and changelings getting into the fray…”
Pinkie giggled. “They signed those treaties before your meeting, silly!”
“Oh. Right,” said Derpy, blushing.
“Don’t feel bad, Derpy,” said Twilight Sparkle. “At this point, the dragons and changelings are just tears on a river. There are only a few hundred dragons alive on this planet, and the changelings only number a few thousand—their population never recovered after the disaster that was the Queen Chrysalis era. The dragons and changelings have some pretty unique magic, fire and shapeshifting respectively. However, the marginal benefit they provide to combined West and East Alliance armies of millions of ponies, zebras, donkeys, and griffons is pretty minimal. I mean, unless they find some unique way to harness and store that magic, I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
Pinkie’s mouth gaped. “Twilight! Never start a sentence with ‘unless’ and then say something bad! Then you’re just begging for it to happen!”
Derpy nodded. “Yeah, Twilight... I mean, even I know that.”
Twilight groaned. “You girls are a hoofful, you know that? I don’t believe in superstitions.”
As she walked out of the meeting room, Pinkie’s tail started violently shaking.
The Oatstralian Desert, June 2029
Rarity, Pumpkin Cake, Walkabout, Stekton, Snips, and Snails stood inside of a cinderblock shed with double-paned glass. They all wore thick welders’ goggles, earmuffs, and aluminum suits. In the desert, they were baking in their suits, but Stekton assured them that they were necessary.
Stekton started the countdown through his muffled mouthguard. “Three…”
Snips and Snails giggled like schoolfillies. Rarity stood, looking austere as normal.
“Two…”
Magic built up at the tip of Pumpkin’s horn, ready to cast at a moment’s notice, as she would shield them all if things went bad. Walkabout was ready to teleport them out if needed.
“One!” Stekton shouted. For a brief instant, Pumpkin almost thought she saw him crack a smile as he pressed the button.
A blinding orange light filled the desert many kilometers away. The goggles were barely enough, and the ponies reflexively shielded their eyes. The ground rumbled, and the thundering shockwave hit the shelter soon afterwards, knocking them all off of their hooves. Sand clods, dirt, and shards of glass slammed into the sides of the hut.
“YEAH!” Snips shouted a few moments later, returning to his hooves.
“We DID it!” shouted Snails.
“Thank Garble and Crackle, as well. They breathed their fire into that bomb every day for three months,” said Rarity.
“Oh no, we’ve really come a guster. Look at the ground,” said Walkabout. “The dragonfire bomb’s turned the desert sand into glass. We’ll be cleaning up this rubbish up for years!”
“Look on the bright side, Walkabout. At least no one lives nearby. That’s why we picked this spot,” said Rarity. “And the sun shimmering on that glass is actually rather gorgeous.”
Walkabout shrugged. “Well, I s’pose I do owe Free Equestria for the coup against Marequarie, and we can’t have another alliance where Oatstralia doesn’t pull its weight. We’ll sell you as much ore as you need to build more bombs.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Though we do need a larger arsenal, I hope we never need to use it. We won’t be like my brother, who uses his rainboom every time he needs to break an egg for his totalitarian omelet. This bomb is many times more powerful than a rainboom. It’s a defensive weapon only, a deterrent to the Equestrian Republic. Now the cabal will know that if they ever shell our cities again, they’ll pay a heavy price. Manehattan will become a giant parking lot, and the whole Pound Plantation will burn. But I think that day will never come, because not even Dash or my brother would be stupid enough to challenge us now.”
“Ironically, for all of its destructive potential, this may turn out to be the greatest peace-keeping weapon ever devised,” said Rarity. “Although, the threat of its use will only ever be implied to the enemy. We’ll let them guess at our intentions, and I do hope that we never hear a Free Equestrian, Second Duchy, or Oatstralian politician give a public speech mentioning a Manehattan parking lot. We wouldn’t want our enemy to panic; ponies who feel backed into a corner are capable of very desperate actions. Sometimes, unwise actions. I think you know that well, Pumpkin Cake.”
Pumpkin blushed slightly, though her aluminum suit hid it from view. “You’re right,” she said.
She didn’t need to be reminded of her own desperate, unwise actions that she’d taken over the years. The last thing that she wanted to do was force the Equestrian Republic into doing the same.
Manehattan, August 2029
Doctor Whooves, Rainbow Dash, Pound Cake, and General Spitfire gazed upon a large dragonfire bomb in awe. It took up almost a quarter of the conference room.
“That’s amazing!” Rainbow exclaimed.
Con Mane smiled. “We can’t have Mareicopa being the only ones with such weapons, can we?”
“Exactly. That’s why we ordered you on the spy mission to the Pumpkin Patch,” said Pound.
“That’s one huge pumpkin you’ve plucked, alright,” Rainbow chuckled.
“How ever did you do it?” asked Doctor Whooves.
Con Mane said, “Stekton’s warehouse isn’t as well-guarded as he thinks. After sleeping with a security guard, I swiped a clearance card from her nightstand and gained entrance under a clever disguise. From there, I cloaked the bomb and carried it out undetected.”
Doctor Whooves smiled. “Jolly good show! Now, I shall take a look at its workings…”
With a screwdriver, he removed a bolted panel to inspect the device’s inner workings. It contained a triggering device, radiator, and compression mechanism. Its largest component was a giant cylinder of bottled dragonfire that glowed red hot.
Doctor Whooves said, “Curious. The device appears to work by compressing and storing large amounts of dragonfire. As a plasma, the dragonfire can only be held at such high pressures by certain types of precious metal containment devices. The radiator keeps it cool—cool being a relatively icy five hundred degrees—until it’s activated by the triggering mechanism and heated up again. Then, as it heats up and expands, the bomb explodes, much as fire from a dragon’s belly. In this bomb’s case, it’s the equivalent of tens of thousands of dragons all at once, and could instantaneously levy an entire city.”
“Can you replicate it? We can’t have the enemy having such a weapon if we don’t, too,” said Spitfire. “Preferably, we’d build as many as possible, because who knows how many they have.”
“Ten,” said Con Mane.
Spitfire shook her head. “That’s enough to wipe most of us out. Can you build a dozen, Whooves?”
Whooves sighed. “That would be difficult. We’d need a massive supply of precious metals like tungsten and platinum. The ore deposits do exist in Equestria, near the badlands...”
“That’s perfect! We can get the Changelings to mine them for us,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Will Fluttershy be okay with that? Animals do live in the Badlands, you know,” said Pound.
Rainbow shrugged. “I’ll overrule her if I have to. This is more important than a few striped buzzards, horned vipers, desert foxes, or whatever else lives there. We’re talking about whole cities that could be wiped out by those terrorists, unless we have bombs of our own that we could use in return. They’d think twice about blowing us up if it meant they’d die, too.”
Whooves nodded. “With the metal, I could replicate this bomb… but for one hitch.”
They all looked at him expectantly, and then Pound smiled. “Oh, I know. Because we don’t have the dragons on our side, so we can’t harvest their fire to put in a bomb.”
Whooves nodded. “Precisely.”
Pound shook his head. “Yep, we just have Stirrup and the changelings.”
Rainbow groaned. “All that spy work for nothing.”
Con Mane chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t all for nothing. I showed that security mare a good time. When she’s hung for treason, she’ll still think I was worth it… because I’m hung for other things than treason.”
They all laughed.
“I just hope that they don’t think I was a changeling spy instead of a Trottish unicorn spy. I do hate others taking credit for my work.”
Whooves smiled. “Brilliant, Con! We don’t need the dragons to make a bomb, because we have the changelings!”
Rainbow tilted her head. “I don’t get it. Changelings have shapeshifting, not fire.”
“Yes, but what enables them to shapeshift?”
“Magic.”
“Correct, but not the usual unicorn magic,” said Whooves. “Changeling magic is far more potent at rearranging particles. Even a novice drone can imitate a target pony or animal far more convincingly and longer than the greatest unicorn magician. But changeling magic comes with a cost. It’s highly specialized, so they’re really only good at shapeshifting, with no other magic talents. Also, changeling magic is highly volatile. If a changeling’s horn is destroyed, they won’t simply suffer a loss of magic. With no horn to channel their magic, they’ll explode into a mess of particles as the uncontrolled magic consumes them and ‘rearranges’ them all over the place.”
“A few of our sharpshooters learned that trick back when the Changelings invaded Canterlot,” said Spitfire. “Shoot the horn, and the whole body explodes. Sometimes it’ll even crack the pavement below and blow out a few windows, or kill other changelings nearby. They’re like living bombs.”
Whooves nodded. “Now you see my idea. It would be a simple modification to create a bomb that compressed and detonated changeling magic instead of dragonfire. When detonated in a target city, the city would be obliterated. Of course, we wouldn’t need to destroy any changeling horns to build the bomb. We’d just need thousands of changelings to pour some magic into each rearrangement bomb, the same as how hundreds of dragons breathed fire into each dragonfire bomb.”
“I say that we go for it,” said Spitfire. “Hopefully we never have to use this bomb, except to test it. It’ll be a great deterrent, though.”
Rainbow Dash nodded. “Good thinking, Doc. Coordinate the mining and magic with Pupa. Let’s build these bombs!”
Ponyville, 2036
“We’ve come to find, our love is brittle What’s yours and mine, it’s such a riddle I’ve got in mind, let’s meet in the middle We can be fine, we’ll each give a little.”
The jangly bumper music of Derpy Hooves’ talk show played over the airwaves of Ponyville, its soft rock guitar belying the seriousness of its message. The song was originally written about a messy divorce. The couple couldn’t decide who owned their joint possessions, and the singer appealed to his ex for a peaceful compromise. The song now had new meaning as the bumper music for “The Middle,” a show that called for East and West Equestria to peacefully compromise.
Derpy was never a good speaker, and often didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, she had a skilled producer who prepared much of her material ahead of time, and had a lot of good callers. Unfortunately, only Ponyville radio broadcast The Middle, though thousands of tapes could be found all over the world.
“Welcome to The Middle,” said Derpy. “Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake, the newly-elected leaders of East and West Equestria respectfully... er, respectively... now claim they have hundreds of weapons of mass destruction. Even though each side has enough to destroy every major city in the world, they just keep building more. It’s really scary… I just hope that their love for each other as siblings can trump their hate. Like when Princess Celestia sent Luna to the moon and saved us from eternal night! Oh, wait, maybe that’s not the best example… well, like when Luna reformed, and then Celestia… uh, died—”
Derpy’s producer motioned for her to be quiet. It was always pretty obvious when she strayed off script and started improvising.
“Uh, let’s take some callers. Line one from Ponyville.” She giggled. “Well, obviously from Ponyville. It’d be weird if it were from somewhere else.”
“Hello, Derpy, my name is Reverend Waddle, Ponyville’s holy stallion,” said the caller, an elderly stallion whose voice clicked and whistled. “East and West Equestria are both godless, secular governments. Back in the day when Princess Celestia ruled, we hardly ever had conflict, because ponies respected her. If we want peace, we should remember that killing is a sin, as is stockpiling weapons. Maybe if more ponies had faith, they wouldn’t be so quick to anger.”
“Uh, I mean...” Derpy started. “I like peace, too, but I don’t wanna have a religious argument on my show.”
She hung up on him.
“Line two from… ooh, South Ponyville? How exotic,” Derpy giggled. “You’re up.”
“I’m Rose,” said a voice.
“And I’m Daisy”, said another.
“Lily’s my name,” said the third.
“We’re the Flower Sisters!” all three shouted.
“Wow, a three-in-one caller,” said Derpy. “This is like the guy who called in with multiple personality disorder, except… ya know, not crazy.”
The Flower Sisters laughed.
“We’re the best of sisters. We’d never let politics divide us,” said Rose.
“I’m for a big government,” said Lily.
“I’m for a smaller government,” said Daisy.
“I’m for no government at all,” said Rose. “But we three get along well, as long as we don’t talk politics. We still love each other. Pound and Pumpkin are brother and sister. Why can’t they understand that?”
“If they’re not careful, they’ll blow everyone up,” said Lily.
“It would be terrible, awful…” said Daisy.
“Horrible, all of the dead...” said Rose.
“The horror! The horror!” the three shouted.
“Thanks, girls,” said Derpy. “I agree, it’d be horrible if those weapons were used. Pound and Pumpkin need to remember the love that they have as siblings. But let’s not spread panic. I wanna be uplifting and stay positive. Next is line three from Ponyville.”
"Hello, Miss Derpy," said the voice. He had a smooth, sophisticated tone, with a slight arrogant twinge. "Those last callers seemed perturbed, but I, for one, encourage the widespread use of WMDs. It would be delightful!"
Derpy exclaimed, "That's terrible! How could you say that?"
The caller responded, "Oh, ‘cause wouldn't the apocalypse be so cool? We'd have roving bands of thugs enslaving and pillaging defenseless towns like Ponyville, fighting over the last bottles of soda. Gangs of outlaws would tool around the Oatstralian desert in souped-up sports cars held together by bailing wires and broken dreams. Ooh, and what if zombies or aliens entered the mix? Post-apocalypses are great fun to watch. I've already made popcorn!"
Derpy gasped. "You awful caller! Who are you?"
The voice chuckled. "Oh, just a chaotic old friend of Celestia's."
Derpy Hooves stammered. "D-d-Discord? But I thought that you were—"
"What, dead? My sweet, cockeyed jockey, did you really believe that it's possible to kill a law of nature? Entropy and decay are universal constants. Given enough time, the chance of an apocalypse increases to 100%, and everypony’s chances of survival drop to zero. Ironically, the only immortal thing is chaos. It’s an unstoppable force. Sure, people fight death and disease with medicine and magic, but they’re just delaying the inevitable. Equestria’s time will come… maybe today, maybe years from now. Maybe from WMDs, maybe from an asteroid. Not knowing is part of the fun! Ponies look to pesky structures like business, government, the church, or love to answer the problem of decay. But structures are all temporal and flawed. The twins are fighting so hard to find society’s ‘correct’ structure, but they’ll never find it, because there isn’t one! Entropy is the only constant, the only satisfying answer. The twins don’t realize, but they’re both fighting on the same side of an unwinnable war... with me.”
“Wait a minute…” said Derpy. “I think you’re a fake. If you really were Discord, couldn’t you have already destroyed everything?”
The caller laughed. "Oh, I could just snap my fingers and blow everything up… but then I’d miss watching trillions of sleepless nights, the people’s terror that once they go to bed, they’ll never wake up again. I’d miss watching the leaders’ decision to push the button and wipe out all of sapient life just to satisfy some petty political dispute… ironically proving my point about chaos being the only satisfying answer. If I blew everyone up immediately instead of letting them squirm for a while, that would be like skipping to the last chapter of a long, enjoyable book! That, or maybe I'm just a crank caller and not really Discord. Like everything else so far, it's up to you to decide.”
Derpy shook her head. “You’re wrong, whoever you are. I think that love will win in the end.”
“Eh, whatever you want to believe. As for me, I have fireworks to watch. Toodles!”
It was to be expected. Had Twilight expected anything else, she would’ve been either naive or stupid. She was neither. Deep down, she’d known it was coming, though for the past fourteen years she had tried to hide the obvious possibility from herself, because otherwise she’d have worried to death. Twilight Sparkle didn’t have a good track record of worrying about impending disasters, so she preferred self-imposed blissful ignorance.
The scenes were so obvious, so scripted, that the external hoof of foreign powers was visible even to a child. The play was the same as in Manehattan, it was only the stage and the actors that had changed. Instead of the “Encampment,” it was the “Nucleation.” Twilight almost puked from the canned nature of it. She even thought she recognized a few protesters from Manehattan, bussed in and disguised. Sure, the tactics were switched up a bit—after all, crystal shops were much harder to burn down than the ones in Manehattan, and the Crystal Empire police were a lot nicer than the Manehattan PD. They didn’t even carry guns. But of course, foreign agitators from a much larger, more powerful country could manufacture almost any sort of event to suit their narrative. The coup went off without much of a hitch after thirty protesters, the so-called “Tireless Thirty,” were found suffocated to death on a bus, blamed on reckless tear gas firing by riot police.
“We strongly condemn the brutal, authoritarian actions taken by the Cadance regime, and call for her to step down,” Equestrian Republic President Pound Cake had said. Of course, when anypony of his political power ‘called for’ something, it wasn’t a suggestion.
Cadance and Shining Armor got the message. They quickly fled the country in 2035. Thankfully, alicorns endure well, and they made a nice home for themselves, Luna, Twilight, Spike, Pinkie, and her family on the moon, under the protective air bubble of Shining Armor’s forcefield. It was their own little private oasis, and Twilight’s teleportation could retrieve them food, water, and other creature comforts from Equestria. What wasn’t to love? Pinkie was so happy that she could jump six times higher, that she almost forgot that she wouldn’t get to see the crystal ponies again.
Instead of ‘Pest Control,’ it was ‘The Miners’ who rose up to fight the new Nucleation government, which announced that it was considering an alliance with East Equestria. But both the East Alliance and the West Alliance treaties had clauses prohibiting new members to join if they had ongoing conflicts or civil wars. It was sort of like a pre-existing condition clause in a health insurance plan, and The Miners were just the ailment that the Confederation of Free Equestria thought the Crystal Empire needed. Instead of rebelling with rifles and magic, at first the Miners used jackhammers, pickaxes, and dynamite. Then rifles a few months later. Then tanks. Then helicopters. Then fighter jets with guided missiles. All while the Free Equestrian government, to avoid an international incident, snarkily denied any involvement.
“Free Equestria does not provide material support to international armed rebel groups. They probably just bought those guns at the local sporting goods store,” Director Pumpkin Cake had once said in answering a reporter.
Yeah, you can find machine guns at Rebel Mart, right between the anti-aircraft missile aisle and the helicopter aisle, Twilight had remembered thinking. International diplomacy was such a charade, where no one could ever say what they really thought or what was really going on. Twilight was glad she wasn’t a princess anymore and could just sit back and watch the trainwreck from the safety of the moon.
Ironically, the Crystal War was far bloodier than any war that Equestria had ever fought. The war dragged on for seven years, with a body count over a million, as thousands of foreign mercenaries streamed in from both Equestrias and as far away as Oatstralia and Prance to partake in the bloodbath. They all covered their fur in glitter to maintain plausible deniability. Proxy wars were always deadly, though compared to direct confrontation between two superpowers armed with weapons of mass destruction, they were friendly games of tennis. The stakes, though, were far higher than tennis. Most of the Crystal Empire was a frozen tundra devoid of civilization. But in the Crystal War, it was the territory that mattered, not the crystal ponies living there.
The Crystal Empire had a border stretching thousands of kilometers across northern Equestria. Crystal Empire territory was within short-range missile striking distance of both Manehattan, Baltimare, and Fillydelphia in the east, and Tall Tale and Vanhoover in the west. The Crystal Empire had been neutral for fourteen years, meaning that its prime real estate had never had missile launchers stationed on it. The largely-untapped shale and tar sands were also a nice little bonus.
So, when the Manehattan-sponsored faction finally won the Crystal War in 2042, signing the Eastern Alliance treaty and permitting WMDs to be stationed all along its border, the Western Alliance was understandably freaking out. A Crystal Crisis had begun, as the Republic was openly and publically transporting twenty missiles from Hollow Shades to a destination less than a hundred kilometers north of Tall Tale.
Ponyville
Over the years, the Ponyville meeting hall had become the official place for east and west to come together to try to compromise. Usually, an unbiased citizen of neutral Ponyville like Cheerilee or Derpy moderated. Today in the meeting hall, though, Derpy wasn’t allowed, nor Cheerilee. Pound and Pumpkin were all alone, the first meeting they’d had in years without their advisors. As the week’s earlier meetings to resolve the crisis with the diplomats and advisors had failed, this meeting between just the twin leaders was a last-ditch effort to prevent armageddon.
Guards were unneeded, as each twin assured their security staff that they were powerful enough to protect themselves against the other. Pound figured he could zip out of the way of any magic spell that Pumpkin cast at him, while Pumpkin figured she only need turn intangible or teleport if Pound tried to rush her. Their unstoppable/immovable dynamic had worked so far to prevent armageddon for fourteen years, but the ending of the Crystal War had changed everything. For the past few days, everyone in Equestria, if not the planet, had been on edge.
Pumpkin shook her head, narrowing her eyes. “I’ve told you before, Pound Cake. Any stationing of weapons of mass destruction on the Crystal Empire border is entirely unacceptable. We will not take these terms.”
Pound laughed. “Or what? You don’t have any bargaining power anymore. In the Crystal Empire, we defeated your so-called ‘rebels.’”
“And you also defeated your own so-called ‘economy,’” Pumpkin quipped. “How are you enjoying those lines around the block to buy bread? Or how about your thirty percent chronic unemployment? Your massive debt?”
“And how are you enjoying all those greedy oligarchs who buy elections? Twenty percent of ponies going without adequate healthcare? Thousands of donkeys fired from their jobs just for being non-ponies?”
Pumpkin sighed. “Look, we’ve had this discussion too many times. I don’t think we’ll ever agree on politics. But can we at least agree not to station those weapons near Tall Tale and Vanhoover?”
“No. From the Crystal Empire, our missiles can now reach Tall Tale in five minutes. My next-quickest option takes hours, and so does yours. With a first-strike capability, the tone of these little diplomatic meetings will change in a hurry. Your population, who you’ve fear-mongered into a frenzy with your lies, will be begging to reunify Equestria so that we ‘fascists’ don’t blow you off the map.”
Pumpkin laughed. “You assume that you have first-strike capability. Maybe you’re wrong in that assumption, just like you’ve been wrong about everything else for the last seventeen years. Let me give you a clue. How do you know that I haven’t phased dragonfire bombs under every major city in eastern Equestria, that I can detonate anytime that I want? You’ve seen me turn an entire bridge intangible before. A bomb would be trivial. I won’t say if I’ve done it or not, but I will tell you that even if I haven’t, it’s entirely possible for me to do it, and you would have no way to stop me.”
Pound blinked.
“That’s right. I could already have first strike capability and you wouldn’t even know it,” said Pumpkin.
Pound shook his head. “You’re bluffing. If you had first strike capability, or the ability to get it, you wouldn’t be so worried about missiles stationed near Tall Tale, Vanhoover, and Canterlot.”
“Wouldn’t I, though? I’m trying to prevent a panic. I’m trying to prevent a war. Come on, let’s look out the north window. I want you to see something.”
Pound and Pumpkin walked to the town hall’s north window. Pumpkin pointed out towards Canterlot. A bubble surrounded the city, just like Shining Armor’s.
She said, “You can’t see it well from here, but that’s actually a forcefield within a forcefield, within a forcefield. We added the third forcefield a few days ago after the Crystal Crisis started. Of course, the fields wouldn’t stop a WMD launched from a missile, but it would stop a unicorn from teleporting a bomb inside the city, at least. It also makes ponies feel more at ease when—”
“Sis,” said Pound softly.
She turned towards him. “What?”
“Look.”
Pound pointed down the street of Ponyville with his hoof. Like every other street in the former Equestria, it was abandoned due to the crisis. Benches sat empty, and blinds on storefronts were drawn shut. Crows fearlessly strutted around. But none of that was what Pound was pointing at. Instead, at the end of the street, there sat a small cottage, a typical Ponyville-style house. A mother, a father, and their two children, one filly and one colt, walked around the side of the house. The filly carried a doll, while the colt carried a teddy bear, and the father and mother carried food. They opened the cellar door, and one by one climbed down to seek shelter.
Neither twin spoke for a minute. Finally, Pumpkin stammered. “Our… that’s… just like...”
“Y-yeah…” Pound croaked.
The memories came flooding back to the twins of their night of terror spent in the Sugarcube Corner cellar with their parents. It was twenty-two years ago when Blueblood had initially invaded Ponyville, sparking the Great Racial War. The twins recalled wondering if they would survive the night, or if their entire world would come crashing down in an explosion.
But theirs had just been one family, for one night, in one town. How many countless others were there around the world, just like this family, living in fear that the twins had caused? The twins’ tears began to flow as freely as their verbal barbs had flowed earlier. There were no more words; there was just crying. They embraced each other, hugging for the first time in many, many years.
“What have we done, Pumpkin? Who… who have we become?” Pound sobbed.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. We’ve… we’ve become what we once feared, I guess.”
“We’re monsters! Both of us!” Pound shouted.
“Well… I mean… If it wasn’t us, then it would’ve just been someone else, like Rarity against Rainbow Dash, or Fluttershy against Applejack, or Iron Will against Raindrops… I think it’s unavoidable...” Pumpkin started.
Pound looked her in the eye. “No. We have to put a stop to this, Pumpkin Cake. You’re always talking about how exceptional you are, right?”
She nodded.
“And you are exceptional. I am, too. We both are, because we have a chance to make an exceptional step towards peace, together. When else will the world get this chance? When else are two twin siblings—who really love each other deep down, despite everything—ever going to be director and president again? And how many other crises will happen between now and then? And how many of them will end in disaster? It only takes one.”
“I… you know, I might have forgotten how to say this, but here goes. You’re right, Pound Cake.”
He chuckled, sniffling. “Smartass.”
She giggled. “Goofball.”
“Let’s get to work, then. We have a treaty to write,” he said.
People filed into the meeting hall in Ponyville and took their seats, muttering quietly. Armed guards from both Free Equestria and the Equestrian Republic stood on either side of the wall at attention, while a dotted line ran down the center, demarking the room. On either side of the room, giant television cameras sat.
On the front row from west to east sat the friends and former world leaders Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Twilight Sparkle, Spike, Luna, Cadance, Shining Armor, Applejack, and Rarity. On the second row sat the current world leaders, Prime Minister Walkabout, Duchess Sparkler, President Fancy Pants, Prime Ministers Knickerson, Foules, and Marequarie, among others. On the third row sat the advisors, cabinet members, and commanders Vinyl Scratch, Redheart, Professor Fossil, Iron Will, Dr. Stekton, Snips, Snails, Zecora, Featherweight, Soarin, Peachy Pitt, Spitfire, Lyra & Bon Bon, Raindrops, Zarek, Organized Labor, Hoops, Dr. Stable, Dr. Whooves, and Big Macintosh. On the fourth row sat prominent businesspeople Berry Punch, Filthy Rich, Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, Aunt and Uncle Orange, and Shiny Diamond. In the back row sat the neutral Ponyvillians Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Derpy, and Mayor Cheerilee. Needless to say, it was a full house.
When Pound and Pumpkin Cake entered, the people applauded. The twins took center stage and shook each other’s hooves, walking up to their twin podiums to speak. The room grew silent, the camera ponies motioned to their crews, and the broadcast began.
Pound spoke first. “Citizens of the former Equestria: I am Pound Cake, the elected leader of the Equestrian Republic.”
There was applause throughout the room, mostly on the east side of the room, but some respectful clapping from the western half of the room.
“And I am Pumpkin Cake, Pound Cake’s fraternal twin sister, the Director of Free Equestria,” said Pumpkin. The pattern of clapping was reversed from what her brother received.
“Thank you all,” said Pumpkin. “My brother and I have an address for everyone living on this continent and, indeed, everyone around the world. We hope to explain our current situation, and how we will solve it.”
Pound nodded. “Over the past two decades, our once-united nation of Equestria has been engaged in a terrible civil war. It has pitted city against city.”
“Race against race,” Pumpkin added.
“Rich against poor,” Pound added.
“Brother against sister,” they both said in unison.
Pumpkin said, “As these last twenty-two years have shown, we surely live in historic times. But it can be difficult to tell when living it. It’s been a slow progression, like the proverbial frog in hot water. People have simmered in their hatred over the years, becoming ever more divided, until last week when it came to a boil.”
Pound said, “My sister and I have been on the front lines of the conflict since it all began here in Ponyville twenty-two years ago. We want to share our struggles, sorrows, and joys face-to-face through the TV screen. We know that many of you are terrified, whether you live in the east or west. A lot of you are cowering in bomb shelters, or are at the border ready to begin shooting. You all deserve an explanation for how it’s come to this.”
Pumpkin nodded. “We start with the time of Celestia. For centuries, the unicorns were oppressed in various ways under her regime. By now, we are all familiar with it: the anti-magic laws, the extra tax on Canterlot, and the racial divisions. A charismatic, terribly misguided leader named Fritz Blueblood took advantage of unicorn disenfranchisement to rise to power. He led the city of Canterlot to secede from Equestria, created the Second Kingdom, and ruled with an iron hoof.
“Soon, war broke out. The unicorns, desperate to feed their starving nation, upset over food tariffs and the perceived lack of racial self-autonomy, launched an invasion of Equestria, allying with the Zebra Empire, which had its own grievances. Blueblood’s first target was Ponyville, where his troops conducted a sweep for unicorn children born to earth pony parents, who would be capable of farming. I was among them, and held prisoner. Pound will tell you the story behind our parents Mr. Carrot Cake and Mrs. Cup Cake, and that chapter of our lives.”
“Thanks, Pumpkin,” said Pound. “After the unicorns captured my sister, I couldn’t rescue her, despite my best efforts. We lost both of our parents trying; the Second Kingdom shot them dead. They were the most caring and loving ponies that Pumpkin and I ever knew. I went into a deep depression, as did she, but we soon dusted ourselves off and took action. I heavily trained in flight, while Pumpkin escaped from the farm and trained in magic, and we found each other again as teenagers after the Cloud Confederacy seceded. We moved to the small desert town of Appleloosa. Over the next couple of years, she and I fought together, side by side, to defend the town from the threats of the unicorn and buffalo invaders.”
“If we had to, we would do it all again,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Despite our political differences, Pound and I were united by a desire to protect our adopted hometown, to take a stand for what we knew was right, to use our special talents to defend the innocent ponies who were unable to defend themselves.”
Pound said, “But Appleloosa’s time was up. The Second Kingdom took the town, and Pumpkin and I each thought the other was dead. But she’d been taken by SK Research Minister Trixie who wanted to study her magic, while I and several pegasi were crippling the SK by salting its farmlands. Soon, the terrible corruption of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s administration came to light. She had an entire board of cronies and oligarchs who advised her, not based on the best interests of our country or the people, but on the interests of their pocketbooks. Her military advisors trampled on the rights of Equestrian citizens, such as the zebras, in order to allegedly preserve security. In the process, they took the courts and justice system in a chokehold.”
“Pound and I both believed this sort of corruption to be unacceptable,” said Pumpkin. “We knew that something had to change about Equestria. We demonstrated in the streets and seized buildings and towns in response to it, in events now known as the Equestrian Revolution. Both Free Equestria and the Equestrian Republic had common roots, but different goals. A major rift had begun to form.”
Pound said, “This rift was over something more basic than corruption, more basic than the war, more basic than land and money. It had to do with the rights of the citizens themselves. It had to do with what we believe.”
Pumpkin said, “I believe the one true way to freedom is to respect the rights of ponies to make their own choices, to defend themselves, conduct themselves in commerce, and be free from all undue authority which might constrain them. My life experiences of being held in slavery and tortured for the supposed ‘common good’ have informed me that this is the only correct option.”
“I take the opposite view,” said Pound Cake. “The one way to freedom is to protect the common good and enable ponies to be as free from starvation, sickness and need as possible. A powerful central government elected directly by will of the citizens, which distributes resources based on need, is the only way to do this, since private enterprise has only ever shown itself to be greedy and selfish. Money must be abolished, and ponies must only work for the good of society instead of themselves. My experiences fighting greedy businessponies who looted the country, like Filthy Rich and the Oranges, have shown me this.”
Pumpkin said, “Over the next few years, our separate countries developed with these radically different ideologies. Ponies were forced to choose sides, as the borders hardened. Sometimes, entire towns and families were torn apart. Proxy wars broke out in the Crystal Empire. With the help of dragons and changelings, we developed the most dangerous weapons of mass destruction in the history of ponykind. They could reduce entire cities to ash in an instant. Both of our polar opposite sides now have hundreds of such bombs and missiles. In the last week, we have come closer to total annihilation than at any time in all of recorded history.”
“Cooler heads prevailed, thank goodness,” said Pound. “But Pumpkin Cake and I won’t always be in charge. Those in power after us may not be as slow to all-out war as we’ve been. We must protect against this possibility. It’s only by luck that twin siblings rule each half of Equestria, and that our love for each other was strong enough to overcome our hatred.”
Pumpkin said, “Despite our differences, we have much in common. We love our families, and we love each other. We both want everyone to be as happy and fulfilled as they possibly can, to live a peaceful life free of need and suffering. We have the same general goals; we simply differ on the way to get there. But that difference alone is enough to potentially destroy the very goals that we all sought to pursue from the start. Pound Cake and I realized this after our recent meeting here. So, for that reason, both of our countries will begin the process of dismantling our WMD arsenals.”
The ponies in the crowd cheered and clapped.
“It won’t be easy,” said Pound Cake. “Huge distrust exists between our two societies, and bridging the gulf will be difficult. But this treaty on the desk before us will lay the framework for ensuring our mutual survival.”
“We may never resolve the question of how to organize society: the forces of the market or the forces of the government. Ponies have already been trying for centuries. The debate is important, but the debate shouldn’t obliterate that very society itself,” said Pumpkin.
“Our first treaty bans the production of new weapons of mass destruction, orders scaling back of existing stockpiles by fifty percent, and provides for verification so that each side is satisfied that the other has met its obligations,” said Pound.
Pumpkin said, “It will be a long and difficult process to ensure lasting peace and prevent an armageddon. Pound Cake and I will work closely together in the months and years to come. We believe that this treaty will work, and this process will be successful.”
“Someday, we both hope to have a world free of these weapons and the need or desire to use them,” said Pound.
Pound and Pumpkin Cake both got up from behind the podium, walked over to the table, and shook each other’s hooves. The treaty stood on the table before them. Pound Cake was first, and he took the pen in his wing feathers, extending it toward the paper and signing his name. Then, Pumpkin Cake took the pen in her magic and signed her name.
Everyone in the entire crowd cheered and clapped, east and west alike.
