The land of the old Roaman empire is rife with a toxic wasteland, plagued by the remnants of the old world as well as the new. Finally, a Praetorian arises to protect the city like the legionaries of old.
Forced by circumstance to leave his home, Goldwreath is thrust into a life full of perils and tragedies the like of which he has not asked for -- after all, he'd simply wanted to spare his people from suffering. Now he faces entities of power far beyond anything he can imagine as the war-born and barbaric tribes sweeping the empire. He must gather his wits and put his training to use if he is to save the city of the sacred Seven Hills from the forces seeking its destruction. His enemies are tough, and he will be hard pressed just to stay alive, but no matter how hard the path he will do his duty down to his last breath. This is his mission. This is his duty.
REVISED Musical Themes And Credits - as of 6/21/15
Goldwreath has lived happily in Marediolanon for years now. He has friends, family, and is respected within his home. Uninterrupted, this life is much like what many want. Yet what happens when it is disturbed? He finds out soon enough, as an ancient authority breaks into his home and casts him and his race as subjects. Unwilling to live the life of a servant, he sets out on a dangerous mission to end the enslavement of his people. But things soon go beyond what he expects, as beings of great powers suddenly take a keen interest in him. What's more, his actions come to attract the attention of many of Roam's most powerful groups. Against the dangers brought by such a turn of events, he can't possibly hope to survive...
... on his own. He has companions; friends, and good people each. With their help, he might stand a chance in the city of war. With their help, the Praetorian rises.
INTRODUCTION
Once, upon the glorious hills of Roam...
There came a time of peace and prosperity, brought about by the values of trade and commerce, of diplomacy and military strength, of ambition and technological advancement. Safety was a standard, and speech was unhindered. Culture and the ideals of a perfect society spread, and through it came the greatest civilization of the world.
But then there came a time when the values of Roam gave way to poverty, greed, violence, destruction; when war, above all else, became a tool used for nothing other than destruction of legacies. When the hearts of Roamans became tainted, the world they built crashed with them into fiery abyss, never to return to the glorious past of gold and silver. The world died. War broke loose, uncontrolled and savage. Balefire rained from the sky and burnt to a crisp any and all who stood, helpless, watching with open eyes as the doom brought about by their leaders washed over them, and removed them all from existence.
The world fell silent, punctuated by the collapse of greatness.
But it was not the end of the civilized world. The apocalypse didn't come in earnest. All it truly managed to accomplish was start the world over: from barbarians we rose, and to barbarians we returned. Raiders and slavers roamed the wastes, preying on any and all, stealing and murdering. And then, without their Legions to protect them, even the remnants of Roam's civilized were prey like all the rest.
Yet on that day that Marediolanon's doors were yanked down, one being emerged from its depths equipped with all he needed to know to restore what once was. And with ambition burning in his heart, he sought to rebuild; to abolish the shackles of society's perversion, and to leave a city of burnt brick and stone a city of gleaming marble...
For himself, and for the Glory of Roam. Imperator Populusque Roamanus.
"Hello there. My name is Goldwreath.
"Most of you must know me by now. Word spreads quickly like that, heh. Of course, it has been a while since this cleanup started and all that crazy stuff finally ended... I hope. But anyway, for those who know me by name alone, well... I'm a pegasus. Crimson coat, black mane and tail, golden eyes. My cutie mark -- it's a pony thing; zebras have glyphs, as you know -- is the golden numeral 'III' encased in two golden laurels. And... well, that's all I am."
"Oh, don't go bashful now. This is your legacy. Say something, my friend!"
"Alright, alright! What, want your name in this or something?"
"Heh, they'll find out eventually. This is your story."
"Fine. Fine... alright, what next...
"Ah, yes. I used to live in an underground shelter, you know. Much like what most of you lived in. Life in my old home tended to be rather monotonous. Not necessarily boring, thanks to my natural affinity for and like of the notion of rendering civic duty. Days were spent rotating posts, keeping guard at night and at day, taking shifts and giving them up; for me, there was just something so satisfying about keeping the peace. Camaraderie helped keep the rut interesting; see, beyond belief, the fellow denizens of our community were capable of producing such fascinating stories. But we never let our guard down, though domestic danger was unlikely. Such was our burden.
"But such, too, was the role of the urban century, or centuria urbanae: a group of dutiful 80 ponies and zebras. We kept order and peace in our shared home, the underground shelter of Marediolanon, the 50th of a series of copycat 'Stables', the concept of which the Imperial government of Roam had taken directly from their enemy: the Equestrians.
"Roamans are good at that, eh? Copying to save themselves. The difference is that the copies tend to be better that the originals. But is it true in this case? I never got to find out. Maybe I will some day.
"But back to what I was saying. So, yes, I was a guard. And here's how the days went: as a part of the domestic peace-keeping force, I would wake up every day save weekends right at the stroke of 6AM. If I shut off my alarm and fell back asleep, I could rely on my fellow custodes (or guards) to force me awake. We would then form up, with exactly one minute to get armored and armed. Then we would assemble according to our centurion's orders, and each controbernium (that is 8 of us) would then proceed to their designated post. Each custos would then take orders from their decanus (the leader of a controbernium) until the day was done. Meals were taken during shifts, with each controbernium always operating at least with a four-equine strength.
"Together, my fellows and I served and policed in the name of Marediolanon's praetor (which quite literally means 'leader' in Imperial zebra). In that case the praetor was a zebra named Eckris: the descendant of a pre-apocalypse Roaman patrician who was born of tribal parents. Many people questioned his ability, like they did with all new praetors. But soon their doubts were silenced; he was a good leader, just as the centuria knew he would be.
"Criminals were always caught and punished. Our effectiveness was not to be doubted, nor was the resolve of our praetor's leadership. The citizens followed our orders to the letter. But we were not harsh; no, Marediolanon's law was very simple: you don't kill, hurt, harass, or force another against their will, and you take responsibility for your actions. Add in the very basic rules of living in a community, and you have our constitution. It allowed much freedom, and the only times we ever asked anything more of the citizens were when a special occasion had come up.
"Now, my family. I had quite a few uncles and aunts in that place, most of which I never really got close to or even met -- my family was very large like that, having many blood connections with many others. To be expected, I suppose, of the sons of the senator Theodorus: our ancestor, and supposedly one of the higher-ups of the Roaman senate in the war. But I made sure to make an appearance once in a while, sometimes just to entertain them. My parents pestered me like that.
"Ah, but my parents! Wonderful ponies, and I'll never forget them. Father would never have me call him by his name, but I can make an exception in this case; I'm sure he'll understand. His name was Blowtorch, and he was one of the finest smiths in our community. Yes, he made our weapons, and together with one of our few unicorns he gave us blades that could cut through metal like it was paper. And my mother... the greatest baker I've ever known! She made cakes for almost all the birthdays we had. I could scarcely count the many letters she'd been given in commendation. Nor could I count the many times I'd begged her for the leftover batter when I was a colt, hah!
"Aw, yeah... that was my life. It was simple, fulfilling, and I never doubted I was a respected individual. My occupation made making friends outside of the centuria difficult, though -- my default reserved and serious demeanor had that one downside. But that aside I was happy, as everyone else was, I assumed. We all respected each other, ponies and zebras alike. That war was over. The little friction that remained was tolerated by the guard if only because we knew it could never be totally eradicated. But we stomped it down if it ever resulted in a scuffle. It barely happened, not with us around.
"But on that one night... no, it was day, racist braggarts and rowdy partiers would become the least of our worries. And what a strange thing it is, now that I think on it, that my life's greatest adventure came about as the result of disaster."
It was Thursday, and the afternoon was growing old. I would be lying if I said being a guard always meant being busy; this was one those days where barely anything happened. But I liked it. Between our near-daily drills and duties, a whole afternoon assigned simply to a post was a nice change. And the next day would be a holiday, too, which meant the whole day off. And how lucky that it was right next to the weekend!
"And here I thought we'd take part in the Bacchanalian festival," groused the pony next to me.
Ah... yes. Well, the bad part about being a guard on a day of festivities was that we didn't get to participate directly most of the time.
I sighed and looked to the side, at the pony; he was a bleached yellow stallion with a dirty white mane, and went by the name of Summer Sands. He and I had been given the assignment of guarding the 3rd Level entrance to the atrium, wherein all festivals took place. A wide space, with each floor occupied by shops and service stations, and also the only place with real living plants, the atrium was rightfully the recreational and social center for all four-hundred of our fellow Marediolanians.
Summer Sands' disappointed, irritated eyes glanced to the window off to his left, which revealed the festivities going on within -- zebras by the dozens were visible, the occasional show of pony color amongst them. And they were all yelling in delight, drinking and feasting like there was no tomorrow. It was rowdy beyond compare in there; a drunken brawl or orgy could have occurred at any moment. That was, of course, the point of the celebration, and the only reason we weren't stomping it down.
He huffed and sighed wistfully, eyebrows furrowing in desire. "Oh, look at that..." he muttered, placing a hoof to the glass and staring at a whole table laden with nothing but wine. "Damn... what I would give to have my shift in there..."
I shook my head but smiled. He was a lot like I had been, back in my first week. And while I was by no means a veteran of the urban century, I'd managed to evolve quite nicely from fresh trainee to a proper guard in the half-year I'd rendered duty.
"You know very well it's our job to keep them in order; this is the one exception. But they get so drunk as to start killing each other, and we step in. Now if you were in there, drunk and flailing your weapons around, well..." I trailed off, leaving him to think on it. He just frowned some more and slumped. If any one had bothered to be walking outside in the halls, they'd have questioned the demeanor of the normally enthusiastic Summer Sands. I noticed his growing depression and nudged his pauldron with my own. "Don't worry about it. Another holiday tomorrow. I'm sure Horus will let us have the night to celebrate. Do you doubt he would?"
I smiled confidently. I knew that zebra would. Horus was the oldest of us -- served under three praetors, he did. And by the gods, he may have been the age of my grandfather, rest his soul, but the centurion had the prowess of a minotaur! Smelled like one too, but that was to be expected of one who trained like it was a necessity to life. But though he would lambast us for the smallest mistakes, he was a good person, and reverent to all Roaman traditions. When a holiday came, even if it were to the most minor of gods, he made arrangements to have us celebrate it. Bacchanalia, sadly, was the one exception.
'Celebrate 'till you're drunk and brainless, then celebrate some more! I don't care how much you throw up!' That's what he would say on any other holiday. And so each of us did, eagerly.
The pony grunted skeptically. "I don't doubt he would. I just wish I'd get to celebrate with my other friends and with my family. Bacchanalia only comes once a year! We've saved up months of wine for these festivities, and we don't even get to participate like they do..." he murmured, face drawing close to the window. Then he looked back to me. "I... don't suppose you think Horus'd let me have the rest of the day?" he asked hopefully.
"Hah!" I laughed, then sniffled and shook my head, "Not a chance. You know very well he'll only ever let anyone off if they're sick. Even then he'll not let them rest unless...?"
"'... unless Pluto's hand itself is hovering over their head, ready to take their soul'," he rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I know how strict and fervent he is about doing duty."
"Well, I'm sure the gods appreciate him," I added, tapping into his faith to the Roaman deities. "Remember, we do all these things we do in their name." I bowed my head in a show of reverence.
He looked at me, quizzical. "Oh sure, you bring the gods up. But you don't even believe in them! That's so hypocritical."
I smiled bashfully. Yes, it was true that I never really believed in their existence, but they made for wonderful imagery and food for thought. "Well, belief in the gods has never been mandated... though I'm sure Horus would have my hide if he found out..." I murmured, and he smirked. Then I snorted. "Well, just don't go spreading that around. Friends don't do that to each other. Hell, I respect you and have never spread your secret preference of Venus over even Jupiter -- a thing I'm sure more than a few people would raise eyebrows over."
His smirk died right there. "Point taken."
After a little while it struck the hour of 4PM. That was the end of our shift. With just half a minute's delay, our replacement came in -- two zebras, twins by the name of Excluvius and Incluvius. They always went together; Horus had thought that Excluvius' wild enthusiasm would be balanced by Incluvius' laconic discipline. And he was right, as he often was. What he may have failed to foresee was that they would often argue, though thankfully it never went beyond Incluvius' reactions to Excluvius' constant yammering.
Looking as though he were having a headache, the sterner of the two zebras approached me, and we both rendered a salute. Then taking Summer Sands with me I left, leaving the twins to once more give each other a hard time. For you see, Excluvius was an avid partier, and missing out on Bacchanalia was driving him insane. And poor Incluvius had to deal with it.
"You see?" I said, nodding my head back over at the pair as we left for the barracks. "Excluvius is what you'd be like if we just let you run off to every celebration. And I'm sure you know that he's one of the most annoying of the guard."
He smiled faintly, "Well, then thank goodness for that." Then he frowned again. "But today still sucks."
I smirked. Oh, he may have thought it was going to be another day of missing festivities. But that would not be the case today.
*** Roama Victrix ***
Through winding halls and living quarters, we made our way back to our weekday home: the barracks. Along the way we'd encountered families hosting smaller parties for Bacchanalia -- my companion threw himself through a door when he saw his own parents and little sister. But bidding him do his duty, his father sent him off.
"Son, the gods will be more pleased that you served rather than feasted," the old stallion had said. "Now go, or I'm betting Horus will flog you without restraint." And as we were leaving he muttered, "Zebras tend to do that. Least it's better than starting wars..."
And so we came to our living quarters: a long room, with a fair width and dull grey steel walls lining every direction of the space. Twenty bunk beds lined each side of the room. Unlike the carved metal pillars and bright banners decorating the rest of Marediolanon, our quarters had little in the way of design. That's why no one liked to stay here except to rest: the place was absolutely dull and plain. Save Horus' own room at the far end, separated from our communal quarters by his own door, the place was basically a metal rectangle.
Luckily, there were some people here at that moment. A few pairs of guards lazed about, preferring to use their free time to rest rather than, say, try to sneak into the festivities. I recognized most of them, though admittedly I didn't know all 80 of the guards. Still, they were here. And not simply lazing about as they seemed; they were here just according to plan.
"Today really sucks," Summer Sands grumbled as he fell forward on his bed, not even taking his armor off. He spat Imperial swears into his pillow, cursing his day. "Why the hell do we have to be excluded?" he mouthed through the cloth.
My eyes went to the others in the room; they were all looking back at me. I winked. They all slowly got up. I heard movement from underneath Horus' door, all the way on the other side.
"You know how it is," I said comfortingly as I sat down on the edge of the bed. This was my job now, to keep him occupied. "Marediolanon simply can't afford to let everyone celebrate. Some people have to be excluded. For the sake of those we serve, we're the ones who don't get to. Think of the strain on our rations."
"Blargh," he muttered sourly, craning his head backwards to look at me. I hurriedly got into his view as those behind me snuck into place. "That's a load of manticore shit and you know it. Marediolanon's built into a mountain -- the entire base of the thing is a grape orchard. More than enough to let everyone have some." That said, he groaned and planted his face into the pillow again.
I looked back. A little over a dozen zebras and a few ponies were making their way closer, most of them holding a cupcake. The old centurion was giving off quiet, wheezing laughs, and I could see why. The sly old zebra had a cake thrice as big as the others'. Outside the door, Incluvius and Excluvius had managed to gather the others.
"I know it may seem... unfair. But if it's any consolation, this is my first Bacchanalia in the guard, and I don't get to celebrate too," I said, just loud enough to conceal the noise of the others' approach. "I... kind of miss the time before I was a guard."
"Well, sucks to be us, then..." he sighed into the pillow. "I just wish that more could be made of this day. I mean, it's the most festive day of the year... and we just spend it guarding." He went quiet for a moment. "And... wait a minute!" His head shot up. "Wait, I should be fucking celebrating! It's my damned birth-..."
"Immittendi cupcakes!" Horus shouted, and at once he jumped up and tossed his extra-large pastry right into Summer Sands' face. Cream splattered the walls and stained the sheets, and the baffled pony was so caught off guard that he jumped up off the bed and fell to the floor, an easy target for a whole volley of sugary cakes. All kinds of colors flew through the air, from violet to green, red to blue. I myself lobbed at him one of his favorite color: pale yellow, the color of his coat. We screamed like mad as our volley came to an end.
When it was over the floor was absolutely littered with cake splatter and icing. Our target was mummified in a cocoon of cream, his head exposed and revealing the immense shock in his eyes. "W-what the... you... wha... HUH?" he stuttered in surprise. Then we got out the banner of him we'd printed and wrapped it about him like a cloak. His agape mouth slowly broke into an open grin of total surprise. He uttered nonsense as we all screamed out 'happy birthday' and yanked him up, patting him on the shoulder and greeting him in turn.
"What the fuck Goldwreath?" he breathed as my turn came up. "You... everyone actually knew..."
"Ah, shut up birthday colt," I grinned as I gave him a cake-filled hug and patted him on the back. Then I pulled away. "Be glad! You're the first of us to get the brand-new birthday treatment, courtesy of the praetor!"
"Courtesy of the praetor? Tradition? Brand-new? Wha-huh?" he blinked, eyes widening at each word.
"That's right, meat!" Horus laughed as he approached, his aged face showing his missing teeth as he grinned spiritedly. "Praetor Eckris now hosts birthdays. Exclusively centuria urbanae birthdays. Guess who convinced him." His mischievous grin broke to a more genial one as he added, "Bacchanalia comes once a year. We custodes have never celebrated it, otherwise Marediolanon would be a wreck by now. But there's no harm in eating cake now, is there?"
We all roared in the negative. Just then a wheeled cart came in, bearing another tray full of cupcakes, and a larger one crowned with candles and topped with icing meant especially for the celebrant. Refrigerated, carbonated grape juice came in next, pushed in by some hiccuping zebras. That surprised the lot of us -- we'd managed to secure quite a bit of flour for the cakes, but from where had we obtained the extra grapes? Surely all of them had been used to make wine for the Bacchanalian festival.
We all looked to our leader. He smiled with pride, but his face turned stern. "And what are you louts looking at?" he snapped. "Don't you know it's a sign of disrespect to gape at an elder's gift? I spent weeks obtaining these. Now drink 'till your stomach ruptures, then drink some more! I don't care you much you throw up!"
That said, he grabbed the nearest bottle and shook it, then yanked the cork off and let loose the jet right into Summer Sands' face.
We cheered. The celebration had, beyond our own anticipation, reached its peak. This wasn't Bacchanalia, but it was going to be damned close. Not for me, though. I'd stay for some of it, but leaving our home without guards at that day was just asking for trouble.
I saw my opportunity. Summer Sands had been swept into the middle of things, and now he was enjoying himself as much as he wanted. Good for him. But our home needed someone to keep the peace when the populace was rowdy. Horus had left a few moments after his little decree -- he was always busy like that, what with him being the praetor's right-hoof zebra. I could understand if he left without a word on his own business, letting us go wild while we could. But he'd trained us to always be vigilant. We were given this one opportunity to be the exact opposite, but it really just wasn't for me.
Besides, I didn't want to have a hangover the next day. So I stepped out into the halls, and smiled as I went off.
*** Roama Victrix ***
I don't exactly know what time I came back, but damn did the place look like a mess! I had to question whether or not the grape juice had alcohol, because I did not believe they'd have made a mess like that sober. Icing and cake, all over the ground like they'd tried to use it to polish the floor. Bottles lay in heaps in the corners. Some of us were passed out on beds or on the floor near the beds; everyone still standing was either leaning against the wall or stumbling around purposelessly.
And yet despite that, they were still at it! Well, some of them were -- Summer Sands and Excluvius and a few of the more energetic of us had turned a bed into an impromptu stage where they sang songs. They looked tired, filthy, and absolutely like the opposite of what a guard should have appeared like -- but hell, we'd only get to go crazy like this once a year.
I missed that opportunity. But I didn't regret going on that patrol. I found my own pleasure in making sure the drunkards got home, not hurting others in their stupor. And I managed to stay for the end of a few of my friends' family's parties, if only because the parents who saw me just had to know how their sons were. For you see, being part of the guard had the terrible side-effect of crippling familial contact. We followed our routes and stayed in our posts, and any who didn't were punished.
So after closing up the doors of the atrium I went on my way back to the barracks, and now here I was. My hooves ached, sore almost as much as my first day of training from guiding so many back to their quarters. But I was satisfied, and stayed that way as I crashed onto my bed.
I smiled as I glanced over at my friend, still enjoying himself. Then the exhaustion took over, and I drifted off.
*** Roama Victrix ***
I awoke to the firm shaking of a hoof on my shoulder. My head throbbed like a nail had been driven into my skull, and my eyes were determined to stay shut. But the moment I heard the rushed breathing, I forced them open. Blinking thrice and clearing my vision, I groaned as I lifted my head up. It was still night; Marediolanon's day-night simulation system proved it.
But even in the dim light of the room, I had no trouble making out the face looking at mine. It was Horus.
"Cen... turion, sir?" I muttered sleepily as my head swayed. "I'm... I don't meant to be disrespectful or anything, but it's a holiday sir... we'll clean up later and all that..." I yawned.
The zebra's eyes lit up with a flicker of... what was it? Anger? No, it seemed far too foreign. Disgust? Surely we were filthy like pigs, but he wouldn't have let us make such a mess if he would simply punish us for it -- unless it was one of the times he felt extra professional and wanted to give us 'fresh meat' a hard time.
"Gods damn it boy, wake up!" he growled, slapping me across the face. The smack jarred me fully awake, and I became acutely aware of just what it was gripping him: fear. I lay motionless as I stared at him, seeing him panicked for the first time in my life.
My inactivity infuriated him. "Impudent pony! Get up or I'll flagellate you! All of you worthless ponies and disgraceful zebras, GET UP NOW!" he shouted, uncaringly pulling me off my bed and yanking me up. A few of the others had been forced up by his voice; already they were scrambling to assemble before him, waking more of us as they went. A messy assembly wasn't nice to look at even with polished suits, but now it was just a mess. Some of us were missing stockings, shirts, and cuirasses; others their shields and weapons. And all of us were groggy and stained with cake and juice. It was the worst formation I'd ever seen. I saw Summer Sands stepped on in the stampede; he'd fallen asleep on the floor. It took three of us passing by to get him to understand what was going on.
But even as we struggled in our stupor to arrange ourselves before him, everything went red and a siren rang out; for the first time ever, Marediolanon's shelter-wide alarm had gone off. We all froze, shocked. That could only mean...
Horus stared up at the blinking red bulb, then looked down at us. He threw his centurion's helmet onto his head, and bellowed, "All of you, to Marediolanon's entrance! Move!"
*** Roama Victrix ***
That was one of the most harrowing marches of my life. We'd sped down the halls, rushing past red-tinted windows and reflective metal walls. Our eyes twitched; our hearts were pounding in our chests. We brought panic as we rushed past. Fathers and mothers and siblings called out to us, asking what was wrong. We couldn't answer, not only because we had no time to stop, but also because we didn't know. And I knew the people we passed by -- they always relied on the centuria urbanae. That we ourselves were in such panic only drove them to paranoia. My own parents were there, waiting for us at the stairwell going up. I tried my best to reassure them, but I'm sure our stomping drowned me out.
There was nothing else I could do once we went up those steps. I could only breathe and hold on tightly to the shield and spear I had in my hooves, and make sure the sword dangling on my hip didn't fall off. At least I'd come fully equipped for what was to come -- some only had just one of their most vital equipment.
Finally we reached the door. It was a heavy metal slab, ten feet wide and two feet thick. On it was marked the insignia of Marediolanon: a prowling golden silhouette of a wolf, enclosed in two golden laurels and engraved with the golden letters IPQR underneath. But most people now didn't even see the logo, nor knew its translation -- such was the neglect we'd given to the uppermost floor, up until now.
We assembled before it in combat formation, with each controbernium lining up their members from wall to wall, the decanii on the farthest right. Thus eight battle lines were formed, spears and gladii ready. Horus gave the order, and for the first time since our training we activated our weapons' hidden function: ionizing the blades, charging them up with the ability to slice through an inch of steel with ease. That we had such deadly weapons gave me a little comfort in facing what enemy awaited us. That and being part of the second line rather than the first.
But then a thought counteracted the comfort. There was an enemy out there. Why else would we be here? Mutants, monsters, radiation -- those were what we'd been told existed out there. That it was all to the world above; Roam and her empire was gone, subjugated by a wasteland. And I had no doubt it was true. Now here we were, defending ourselves from whatever it was out there. We had the door, though. What manner of monstrosity could go through it? Surely it was enough to hold off even-...
PONG-TING!
A massive barbed hook punched right through the door, then slammed right back against it from the inside. The impact was deafening, the vibration running through the space like a gong. We were all momentarily stunned as another hook punched through just in the same manner as the last. The third that hit only compounded the shock. All three hooks started yanking backwards, drawing sparks from the hinges of the doorway. Soon the metal slab started contorting, bending backwards from the center. Marediolanon's insignia was soon nothing but a a twisted flicker of gold.
"Steady now!" Horus bellowed from where he took position, on the farthest right in front of the column of decanii. When he noticed we were taking tentative, fearful steps backwards he rounded on us. "I said STEADY! You are soldiers of Marediolanon, of your home! Whatever comes through that door you will hold your ground!" He stomped a hoof and ferociously drew his sword. "Take heart! Your praetor and his elite guard are with us. Even now they take positions to aid us in facing this foe!"
It was true. Marediolanon was built into a fairly tall, broad mountain. The top most part of it was filled in with the praetor's quarters and office, and right beneath that his own elite guards -- completely different from the centuria urbanae -- made their home. On the interior, the office was akin to a glass-encased balcony that projected from the walls, allowing Eckris and his troops easy view of the situation. They were there right now, watching. All of them were uneasy, frightened and uncertain, but there they were. There was something on the face of our praetor, though; a kind of expectancy. He'd always spoken of contact with the other zebra shelters: it was no secret those that were operational were capable of communication. He'd even said some of them had managed to connect to each other.
But such contact could be dangerous. What if he'd angered the other shelters? Each one was capable of waging a small-scale war -- Marediolanon's capability in particular was high, but contained merely to using our facilities and professionals to creating a well-equipped guard. He'd have told us if he'd angered them, though. So it left me in the dark, not sure what to believe was breaking in. I started to tremble, the weight of the situation bearing down on me. Merciful Jupiter, what was trying to break in?
P-TING!
We locked shields, heartened by the support of our praetor. But I wasn't emboldened. I was frightened, scared out of my mind. Gods, I'd never even used the sword on any living thing before! I could cut down a dummy, but an actual living thing... if it were anything aside from mindless mutants or monsters, I... could I? I would try if I needed to, but could I bring myself to strike that final blow?
I was pushed from behind. "Keep the line straight now," a pony said. His voice was shaky. He gulped. "We'll need it."
I swallowed, getting myself together. I was a guard of Marediolanon. This was my duty. The brave populace of our home would stay informed, ready to react appropriately for what was to come. But it was us standing between them and doom. My family, my friends and relatives -- I stood for them. Damn me if I was going to let them down while I breathed. So even as my heart raced and my eyes darted about in suppressed panic, I remained alert and ready.
P-TING!
Marediolanon's symbol crunched back, the doors giving a great hiss as air rushed from all around us and sped out. Immediately a foreign scent hit my nose: something... earthy and and dry, like our botanical gardens in times of water shortage. Except this stench was tainted with something toxic, something dead... it made my stomach lurch.
"Get ready!" Horus shouted, and blew the whistle around his neck as loud as he could.
The hooks gave one more yank, and the door snapped off its hinges and flew backwards with an earthshaking clang. The resulting wind nearly swept us off our hooves, and the sudden change in temperature combined with the intensity of the smell dizzied me. But none of that was nearly as foreign as the blinding light that beamed through the broken doorway. Brighter than any lightbulb I'd ever seen, it stung our eyes simply to keep them open. Our shield wall shattered -- our reflexes had us hide our eyes from the light, compromising our defenses.
While we fumbled around behind our shields, filthy and dumbfounded and absolutely not ready to fight, there came the sound of metal on metal from outside, like boots on a floor. I barely managed to peer around from my shield.
There was a silhouette there, standing on the wrecked and bent carcass of our door. The shape of it nearly stopped me dead -- it looked exactly like Horus; same helmet, with a cape that fluttered in the foreign breeze. There was even a sword strapped to the right hip. Two figures followed, each one looking eerily just like guards of the urban century.
I stared in horrified paralysis, overwhelmed by the revelation. Eckris had gotten us into a war, and with people just like us!
The figures cautiously stole their way in. Then the one that looked like Horus spoke, "Legionaries, movere deinceps, nunc! Movere deinceps et... quid vis?" It stood there for a moment, then seemed to lean. Then it raised a hoof in the air as if in greeting. "Ah, custodia civile! Salve! Si tu es Roamae amic-..."
Suddenly Horus roared and charged, his figure losing detail as he was encompassed by the light. A few of us, those not so unsettled by the recent events, joined him. Just as I was about to, I noticed the forms of guns -- weapons restricted to the praetor's elite -- in the hooves of the figures.
My eyes widened, and I reached out a hoof. "Horus!"
The figures jerked back in shock. "Quid...? Non! Ydiota, non-..."
Horus collided with the silhouette, slamming both to the ground in struggle. One of the gun-wielding forms approached, weapon pointed at the two locked in combat, shifting between them as if unsure who was who. Then one of us who'd charged hit him right in the side with a spear, and he cried and fell down. The other figure was struggling to get his weapon to bear when two of us rammed him, crashing themselves against the wall. Then his gun flashed twice, and the bullets flew into our lines.
The first struck uselessly against my shield... but I yelped and jumped back anyway. The decanus of the first controbernium wasn't so lucky. Even as the rest of the first line charged, he crumpled to the ground, limply letting his hooves dangle around before he fell down, blood pooling around his head. Unless our own decanus ordered us forward, we were going to hold our ground. Just as well, because I couldn't bring myself to look away from the dead zebra, much less fight.
The fight seemed pretty well ours, though. Both gun-armed invaders were neutralized, and with my eyes having adjusted I could tell that Horus had emerged victorious in his scuffle. Now he was having the first line form up just under the doorway.
"Century! Move forward, secure the doorway! We'll beat these outsiders back for the glory of Jupi-..."
Then there was a whirring. PRRRRRRRRT!
A lance of bright particles tore through the doorway, eviscerating half the first line instantly. I swear I saw it in slow motion as the particles punched through my fellows' flesh, like perverse fireworks erupting on their skin. If there were any survivors, they would have been indistinguishable from the dead as the rest of the line hit the floor. Even when they were all on the ground the beam of high-velocity lead stormed over to us, heat singing at my coat as the tiny bullets whizzed by. Our lines were driven into disorder as more of us fell. The whirring didn't stop, only growing louder as the source of the hot death closed in, now revealing itself as a muzzle flash brighter than the light through the door.
Some of us started to turn and run. I couldn't. In the chaos I'd been pushed down and stepped on. I could only crawl to the side, hoping to whatever good there was in the universe that the invaders didn't aim for me next. This was an unfair fight, but the moment I saw another of them I swore I'd kill him. If they were going to take my home I was going to make them pay for it, and damn everything else!
And then suddenly the whirring stopped, though the chaos it'd sown remained. I heard a thump, and a cylindrical object launched itself through the ruined doorway. It landed right in front of me, rolled, and came to a stop. It was metallic, but I could make out a tiny inscription on it, in Imperial:
'Bonum nocte, spurios!'
I only managed to read the inscription. The time I was left with wasn't enough to even bring my shield in front of me in defense.
The object detonated with light, blinding me and leaving an agonizing crackling in my ears. I spasmed uncontrollably, like a powerful current was running through me. And I couldn't move, not with my greatest effort. I couldn't even think straight; my thinking was completely scrambled and useless -- it tired me just to try.
I couldn't move, still, when the spasming subsided. I couldn't even feel my limbs. Nor could I see the world around me except as a blur of pale colors. But I could tell the intruders were moving in, and there were lots of them. A little over a dozen were picking their way through the bodies, dead or alive. The dead they ignored, the living they dragged over to a corner. Then one of them stepped over me, and bent down.
For a moment I'd hoped it was Horus, if only because the zebra that looked down at me could have been his age. But Horus would never give a glare so genuinely filled with disgust, as this one did. Nor did Horus ever have half his face bandaged.
"Why do they always resist..." he muttered disdainfully, then glanced upwards. I followed his gaze up towards our praetor's office. The glass windows had punctures and holes and cracks, but it seemed Eckris and his elite were unscathed. In fact they were standing there right now, our leader in disbelief and horror. Then Eckris' troops kicked over the heavy wooden table as cover and mounted their guns on the broken glass.
"Take one more step into Marediolanon and you're minced meat!" one of them threatened. "Now identify, and prepare to pay reparations! Your operation is over."
"Oh, it's only just begun," said a voice, somewhere near the doorway. There was a momentary rush as the invading troops hurried into two lines opposite each other. Then I heard hoofsteps on the metal floor. "For you see, my dear garrison... this copycat Equestrian Stable, this 'Marediolanon'... it belongs to us. And it always has. The blood unfortunately spilled today was a cause of your foolery and ignorance."
"I said identify!" the guard barked back.
The figure's shadow came into view, and his hooves stopped right at the end of the two lines, right where I was. I managed to very painfully twist my head so as to see who he was.
A Roaman officer is what he looked like; high-ranking, judging from the muscle cuirass and plumed helmet he had. He had a rather smug look on his face. If I'd have been able to move I'd have punched him in the face just for wearing such a condescending look in my home.
The officer looked up casually. "I am Thanus Meridius Decimus, legatus de legio IV Valere Victrix Equestrius." His relaxed smile tensed up a bit as he narrowed his eyes and gestured a hoof at the death around him. "We are of the Imperial Roaman Legion. And your leader and I... we have much to discuss."
Entry #1 Custodes Civile... that's what I am. And I think the months of hard work's gotten to me. I feel stronger, better. I've grown used to the gladius and to keeping the peace with words. Hmm... I should keep track, keep the professionals as my milestones...
Every Marediolanian thought the outside world was barren, dead. That any form of life that thrived out there was unnatural, abominable. We were told radiation storms tore up the landscape, that the air alone could kill you in minutes. We'd been led to believe that beyond our walls was hell itself, and we'd all bought it. Including me, especially me -- for me, all that could have been good was right there, in my home. Why ever think of uncomfortable, nasty things, like death by toxins?
Yet now that our door had been yanked down I realized I was wrong. I could see outside the doorway, though the view was obscured by a slanted metallic hulk, with a heavy-caliber cannon on top of its chassis -- an armored vehicle, the likes of which I'd seen pictures of back in history classes. I could see light bordering on its metal, the source dancing on the edges of my sight as I was hauled off, my paralysis ebbing away slowly. Next to these soldiers who looked almost exactly like us, and taking priority over even the foreign vehicle, that light was the next thing I was so curious about regarding the outside.
I was so intrigued by it I'd almost forgotten just what was happening, and what had already transpired. I only regained my senses after I was dropped in the corner like all the other stunned guards. Those who weren't were shoved towards the rest of us.
That was all I needed to see to remember, and to know what exactly it was I should have been feeling...
*** Roama Victrix ***
Shock and anger. The two emotions spun around in my head, winding me up to snap. None of them were stronger than the other, which rendered me without action. But they left me feeling restless and inexorably irritable, and very tense inside. For to be held in a corner along with your fellows, put under the threat of gun and told to stay put while your home was being strolled in by foreigners -- no one should have to go through it. But I complied, if only because I clung to the hope that there'd be a more opportune moment to hit these bastards. There had to be one.
"Can we not at least see our parents, or go to our siblings? What madness is this?!" Incluvius growled, stomping in frustration. He was staring right into the eyes of one of our captors, unfazed by their threats. Then he pointed at Excluvius sitting in the corner with others, holding a foreleg tightly to stop bleeding. "My brother, shot by you, needs medical attention! As do more! You can't deny us this in our own home, no matter who you are."
The zebra detaining us, though he came from the... that land beyond the door, at the very least had the decency to wince and sigh. "I know. Our medics are on their way from Campus Apollania. Please be patient, and we'll tend to your wounded." Then he gave a slight scowl. "Even though your people opened fire on us first, I might add."
"In defense of our home!" Incluvius spat and turned around, muttering darkly as he went over to his brother. There were many of us, and we were pressed into too small a space. Thus, clashes like what Incluvius had with our detainers were numerous, heated. It was a wonder none of it had gotten physical and resulted in more pain.
But I wasn't partaking in any of them, though the irritated and fuming pony in my head screamed for action. From observation alone I could tell that they weren't about to let us in on some context -- not who they were besides the 'Imperial Roaman Legion', and not their objective. Not even their names were revealed. So I slumped against the walls, dizzy, worried and sweaty from the new warm air that reeked of the musky scent of dust and dirt. My sole comfort was that these people seemed civilized, at least compared to the monstrosities and mutants I'd feared would barge through our door.
Then I glanced around, and caught one of the outsiders picking through the dead. At least he was doing it with a degree of respect, I thought with a grumble. Contrary to what I'd feared, death was not rampant; the many tiny bullets hadn't gotten through most of our shields, so we only had three casualties. The same number as they'd suffered. Then the zebra stooped down over a body adorned with a plumed helmet and red cape, and he turned it over.
For a moment he just looked down at the face, trying to make it out -- half of the flesh had been eviscerated by the storm of lead, leaving it looking sickeningly like smashed tomatoes. My exclamation of recognition died in my throat as my stomach lurched, tossing bile into my mouth. Gods, spare me the sight of such things!
The soldier snickered and called one of our detainers over. "Poor wretch looks just like Bovius the day he had his face torn up. And they even look like they could be the same age! The resemblance is uncanny."
The other scowled down at the mangled fl-… well, Horus’ face.. "You're right. Bastard. He's the officer of this place, I'm guessing. Means he's the one who ordered the attack on our greeting party." He scoffed and pulled away, shaking his head. "Deserves the death," he groused, then spat on Horus' face.
Oh, and how some of us didn't agree. Just seeing that made those who saw him raise their voices in rage. Tension built up as he approached, bearing a scowl directed at us. "Oh, quiet," he said. "We lost three good legionaries today to you people. If your leader here had more sense, he'd have spared six lives. Tell me I'm wrong."
Now I'd long recovered from the nausea, and his words only fueled a burning anger within me. That he didn't seem like backing down only compounded the rage. It didn't matter that they hadn't come in guns blazing; that they yanked our door down without any manner of consent was enough to warrant lethal retaliation!
I waited until he turned around before jumping up and bucking him right in the flanks. I felt something crunch beneath my hooves as he flew forward, a muffled cry escaping his throat as he face-planted into the floor.
"YOU DON'T GET TO DO THAT HERE!" I bellowed as his comrades rushed to his aid. He looked like he was unconscious, and his eyelids leaked with tears as he pressed his hind legs tightly together. I fixed them each with a glare, and I didn't care what they'd have done to me. I only wanted to expel them, painfully. "You... don't get... to just walk in, kill people, and start telling us what we should or shouldn't have done in defense of our own home. None of you do!" I shouted as I stepped forward.
They stepped back and drew their weapons. In my anger I didn't care I could have died, so long as it were in line with my duty. But then I felt hooves on my shoulders, pulling me back.
"Let's not get ahead of things here," someone said from behind me, slowly and reasonably; so much so I felt my fury diminishing with his each and every word. He stepped forward. The zebra looked back at me with a hopeful, 'don't do anything stupid' kind of expression before turning to the invading foreigners. "And let's not escalate things. Clearly this whole tragedy is the product of... of a misunderstanding, I'm sure. The lives lost cannot be replaced... but you people seem civilized; let us take our fallen and mourn them. All hostilities come to and end through reason on both sides. Already you have your legate in our home, trotting about the place like it were his. We are tense and worried for our families, and so are irritable. Let us at least return to our own quarters, for if you truly wanted us dead, we would be dead, and if you came in peace as you imply you did, then let us have peace. But what peace is there in holding us captive, only to escalate tensions?"
Such were the zebra's words. He said these words with such agreeability, that even I, the instigator of what very nearly could have been my final quarrel, saw the reason. For he was right, after all. These people... yes, they had a purpose for being here. Not genocide, lest we'd all be dead or dying already. And he made me realize that, while behavior such as mine was natural in such a situation, I was not helping to make things better. My approach was direct, brutish, and it shamed me now that I'd calmed.
Our captors looked to each other uncertainly. It was clear many of them had been swayed, though a few seemed to have differing opinions. But what mattered was their officer's opinion; in this case, he looked just like a decanus, with the backward-forward crested helmet. And he agreed to our request, though he warned us that any attempts to resist would be met with brutal retaliation. And as he warned us I saw that the vehicle that'd been just outside the door the whole time had its cannon pointed inwards. A chill ran through me as I realized what I could have caused: a massacre.
Quietly, we took away our fallen and departed. Now our frustrations had been replaced with a pensive melancholy. Summer Sands, though the poor stallion looked only distantly aware of the situation, helped carry the bodies, which we'd placed on a large tarp with just enough room between them so it didn't look like we were just piling them together like garbage. Horus we placed in the center. The more seriously injured some of us carried on our own backs; thankfully there weren't too many. Incluvius was looking the bodies over, hopeful for signs of life. I wasn't optimistic; they'd lost far too much blood, and their injuries simply seemed too... gut-wrenchingly horrible for them to have survived.
I directed my attention away from the looming cloud of sorrow weighing heavily on my mind and towards trying to undo whatever damage I could. I stepped closer to those holding the tarpaulin and, trying to emulate the zebra's voice of reason, pointed out whatever silver lining could come to mind. It wasn't much, but I could tell them that at least we hadn't lost as many as we feared... though our beloved centurion was one of them...
Then, "He's alive!" Incluvius breathed, his ear against the non-moving Horus' mouth. He pulled himself up, eyes wide as he looked us over. We all stared back, as if we hadn't heard just what he'd said. Horus was what? "His pulse... strong!" he said in a rush.
One of us holding the tarp looked to the mangled centurion's face in disbelief. "That's... gods, I-I really don't think..."
"Well if he's alive," I said quickly, "Then we have no time to waste." And with that I grabbed hold of the tarp as well. I pointed forward down the hall. "To the medical wing, go! Move!"
*** Roama Victrix ***
One liter. That's how much blood had been lost through the wounds on Horus's face. It was actually fairly little. He'd have lost more if the bullets had gone into his skull -- then of course, he'd be dead. Luckily for us, the lead had simply grazed his face, tearing away the skin and muscle and some bone, but none had actually entered his head. His left eye was lost, though. Our medics could do nothing for that, though some of us had grown desperate enough to ask, 'Want to give those damned outsiders a shot?'
It didn't matter. We were just glad, that against all odds, our centurion was alive. He was a good zebra, and many of our fondest memories were of him. Some of us were even driven to tears at the news; for them, Horus had become a second father. And for some of us who had familial problems, the guard was their new family, and they cried because we'd lost some of our own.
I felt their pain. None of them had ever grown very close to me, not even Horus. But these were the people I'd spent six months with, away from my family. It was hard at first, but I'd gotten used to the daily grind with the help of my fellows. We all cared for each other in Marediolanon. A single loss was a tragedy, no matter who it was.
Yet all things had a silver lining, even this intrusion. One of the foreigner officers had come to us as we crowded in the medical wing. Their leader, the legate Thanus, had convinced the populace of Marediolanon to not fight. Just as well, for few knew how to handle weaponry; attempted resistance may have just resulted in more bloodshed, and surely we would lose. And though my heart ached at the news that our home was now, essentially, a free-roaming ground for these outsiders, at least it meant my parents and relatives would be unharmed... or so I hoped.
Thus it was that we'd dispersed, leaving our injured to recover at the hooves of the bewildered medical staff. Summer Sands and I first went with a group down two floors, then the group fanned out until it was just the two of us. How coincidental that our parents were neighbors, just as Summer Sands and I were bunk-mates.
We stopped at the mouth of the hall, our parents' quarters down at the end. "I... I can't go down there, Goldwreath," my companion muttered dumbly, his expression blank save for an undertone of terror. "Not like this, no... not like this. Filthy and bloody and... scared."
I sighed and stepped right up beside him, once again nudging his pauldron with my own. "You can, and you should. Parents are the ones we can approach when we can't go to anyone else. You'll be fine, I'm sure-..."
"I failed!" he blurted, and gave a hiccup as his eyes narrowed, red and puffy. "I failed... we failed to stop them. Now they walk around in our own home like it's theirs. I can't... can't go in there like this. I'm ashamed of myself." He clenched his eyes and looked down, covering his face with a hoof.
I knew what he meant. As guards, we first and foremost were responsible for our community's safety. That we failed in our duty was a terrible blow to our credibility. I felt hollow inside just from the thought of it. Hollow and worthless. Had it not been for Thanus' convincing of my people's passivity, more blood could have been shed... and it would have been my fault, first for failing, then for being so aggressive.
I heard boots behind us, and turned around. There were two of the foreign legionaries there, down the hall. With them was one of their decanii. They were moving, guns drawn, down the walkways, almost like they were instilling a curfew. Then they disappeared around the corner, only to reveal more of them further down the hall. They were all moving cautiously, balking and hesitating at every doorway. Then when they concluded that the residents were all going to stay indoors -- if they were in their quarters at all -- they continued along, quiet and careful.
I turned back around, patting my friend on the back a few times. He'd broken into quiet sobbing, forcing in the tears as he went at it. Then he croaked out, "W-worst... birthday week... ever..."
My heart skipped a beat. Worst birthday week ever? Well, with all that was going on... no doubt. But I'd tried so hard to make it nice. The surprise party, the printing of the tarp... and all for naught. My heart crumpled like paper, and I felt my eyes go wet. Still, I nudged him again. "Come on. Let's... just go."
He didn't object this time as I pushed him along, guiding him down the hall. Along the way we passed by several doors. All the residential doors in Marediolanon had one-way see-through doors. And though I couldn't see if people were inside or not, just like how the legionaries couldn't, I knew they were in there, staring. I hurried us along, and knocked first for my friends' parents.
At first there was nothing. Then I heard a lock clank inside, and the door swung inward slowly. A hoof popped out and pulled it in further, and two light blue eyes peered out at me. The door opened completely, and there his father and mother were, two ponies colored gold and dirty white, respectively. I knew them from my colthood. My already pained heart sank even further into despair. These were the faces that had once happily offered me sandwiches, and now... now they looked like husks of their former selves, scared and paranoid. To think that just yesterday they were partying, and happy...
"Mister and missus Sands... your son," I told them, and nudged my friend forward. Summer Sands wiped his face and forced on a look of placidity. But these were faces he hadn't seen since happier times -- the day before. He couldn't help it. He broke into open weeping and fell forward.
Missis Sands dashed forward, catching her son and pulling him into an embrace, letting off a great breath of relief. Then mister Sands stepped forward, looking at me.
"Thank you," he said, gulping down a lump. "I don't know what happened. We were so scared, and so confused... but at least our colt's alive." He gave a little nod and sniffle. "Thank you far watching over my kid, Goldwreath."
I felt a pang inside, forming a pit that widened with each second. Seeing this... display of emotion was making me feel wanting. I needed my own parents. I needed them to tell me I hadn't failed. I needed them to tell me that it was alright...
I forced a crooked smile and rendered a little salute, "No problem... happy to have done it." And with that I turned, making for my own door. I hadn't even taken two steps when I saw my own mother and father there.
Dad's eyes was scanning the hall from behind a welder's mask -- practical to the situation, as he always was. As he did so, the sweet, kind voice of my mother asked, "He-hello Goldwreath... care for some cake, with way too much icin' on the top?"
I gave a snotty snicker. Ah mom... ever the humorist... even in times of trouble.
Yet despite the humor I almost cried as I replied, "I couldn't want anything more in the world."
*** Roama Victrix ***
Though the situation was grim and weighed heavily on all of us, there was of course cake, with far too much icing on top. I sat down around the small table I used to turn into a barricade when my friends and I played. Mother brought over the cake on my favorite plate, along with refreshments for all of us. Wielding a blowtorch and wrench, father quickly gave the hall a second glance before shutting the door close. Then he sat down with us around the table.
For a few moments I could only look around at my home... my original home, in which I'd spent years of my life. They'd changed little in my absence. My room was in exactly the same state as I'd left it six months back, that morning when my training ended: nice and clean and organized. I could tell they hadn't touched it because the dull metal gladius father had made for me using an industrial pipe, and some ingenuity, still lay atop my pillow.
Then I looked down at the cake. It looked so tasty and inviting... and in the advent of recent events was the only purely nice thing I'd seen. I couldn't resist taking in a bit, and then some more. It was so damned good... the sweetest flavor ever.
My mother gave a wrinkly smile when I had finished. Then she looked up at me with eyes I missed oh so much. Yet my joy at seeing them again was shredded by the fear they showed.
"So, dear..." she started softly, uncertainly. "... I've to ask, just what's happened out there? Heard the alarm we did, then the Sands were rushing into their quarters..." She gave a little hiccup and sniffled. "Then we heard clangin', loud, loud clangin'! Louder than a Bacchanalian party, it was. Then for a long while there wasn't a noise even father could pick up... no announcement whatsoever. But then we heard boots outside. Thought it was a guard, we did. The zebra looked like one, too. But the moment we approached 'im, he had a gun pointed at us! Your father and I couldn't do nothin' but just barricade ourselves in here until Eckris said something. But no, it wasn't Eckris that spoke. Someone else did, over the intercom... accent of Imperial was thick in his voice. Promised us safety if we just stayed in our rooms, he did. So we've been stayin' in here just hopin'... and then... then..." She blinked back a few tears and wiped off those that rolled down her old cheeks.
Dad moved his chair closer and wrapped a hoof around her, taking off his welding mask. He pulled her to his chest, then looked up at me with a sternness I feared was directed at me. "We've been holed up in here a while now," he said, his gravelly voice heavy with frustration. "Half an hour. And in that time, more of those 'guards' passed by. But they aren't guards, are they? They're foreigners, outsiders -- I've never seen any of their faces before. What the hell are they doing in here, son?"
I swallowed. How to address a question I didn't know the answer to without seeming even more incompetent? Well... it wasn't possible. Only the truth remained. "I... don't know." The words slipped out of me easily. I didn't even mount an effort to say them. Perhaps the months of conditioning had taken away whatever resolve I had to lie. "And I don't think anyone else knows, too. We were just sleeping, then Horus came in and ordered us over to the door. Then we were just... neutralized. We killed some, sure, and at the loss of some of our own, but... we couldn't hold the door." I slumped in my chair. "They rounded us up, kept us prisoner for a while. Then they let us go. They didn't even send some of their own troops in with us to make sure we didn't cause trouble -- they just told us not to, like they owned the place. And that's starting to look like the truth right now."
Dad's scowl softened, and he looked away. For the next few moments the room was plunged into a pregnant silence. Then I said softly, "But they're not here to just kill us." I let that settle in, and they both looked up at me. "If anything, I think they're to get something. I don't know what. Could be resources, maybe shelter. Supplies in general, maybe."
"But... why?" Dad asked.
I sighed and leaned forward, shaking my head. "I don't know. I really don't, Dad. Probably the only one who knows anything is Eckris, and he's... well, I have no idea where he is." It was a little over an hour ago since I'd laid eyes on our praetor. He'd barricaded himself in his office under his guards' protection. I'd been too distracted by the events in the entrance hall to notice what could have befallen him. Perhaps he was besieged and captured?
Mom collected herself, taking a sip of the grape juice she'd prepared. "We saw him. Went down the hall, he did. Atrium, I think. He... he was with two of them foreigners. I don't know what happened to him." She shook her head. "Pale as polished marble, he looked. Frightened. Poor thing; how terrible a fate!"
"Well, if he let this happen..." Dad groused, then snorted. "Damn zebra... I knew we couldn't put our faith in him."
I sighed. I wanted to believe that he had nothing to do with this. "Well if he's there, I suppose I can make myself useful and try to find him. Maybe try to get some context."
Mom gaped at me, shaking her head. "Goldwreath, don't go," she pleaded. "My child, I've not spoken with you for months now. All I got were glances, quick bits o' vision before you vanished 'round the corner on patrol. I... I know father and I allowed you to join the guard, since you wanted to so much. But you know, sometimes I just couldn't sleep wondering if you were alright or not."
She let out a shaky breath. "Son, I was scared for you when we were in peace... I don't think my heart could take it if you were taken from me in this chaos."
My heart sank into cold, aching hollowness, and my thoughts stopped dead. My feelings were reduced to absolute melancholy. "Mom... but I can't just..." I stuttered, then at the look she gave me stopped short. Those eyes... the eyes that had begged me to do my chores since forever, now... pleading for me to stay and be safe. How could I possibly say no to those?
Again the room fell quiet. Dad seemed to be staring off where he sat, and mom looked at me, still, with those eyes, as if she were simply cementing the impact of her pleas. I didn't need it anymore after the first half-minute; my mind had been convinced. I was staying, if against my own will.
Finally I got up with the intention of cleaning up the dishes -- ah, such a chore as had not been done in so long... oh, the nostalgia. But even as I moved to clear the table my father put a firm hoof to my shoulder. I froze where I stood.
"Now, listen here son," he said sternly, then licked his lips as if the words were hard for him to get out, "Your mother and I have been a dynamic duo since our marriage; we're different, but we compromise. And I respect her decisions and I love her. But..." he trailed off, looking at her. "... well, I don't agree with her this time. We can't keep you here like this, not unless it's in your heart to stay. Which I don't think is the case."
Mom looked to him, aghast. "Father! What're you sayin'? Goldwreath needs-..."
"To do his job. It's what he wants to do, it's what he's meant to do." He looked at me squarely. "Goldwreath's a guard now, dear. A guard. That's just one step down from soldier in my eyes." And then he looked right at mom. "Now it's absurd if something or someone's not used for their purpose. Our son's one of our protectors. Look at him -- he's trying to do his job, keeping the peace. I can see that glimmer of determination in his eyes. And when a person's got that kind of flame, well... nothing's gonna stop him, so long as he keeps his head on the goal. And I know our Goldwreath; he'll put himself up front as tribute if it meant saving people."
He gave a little smile and looked me over, seeming to settle on one spot of my body. Then he leaned over and said in mom's ear: "I didn't believe you at first, but you were right, love. That symbol of the Praetorian Guard on our son's rear has defined him since he got it."
I smiled bashfully and looked away, my gaze drawn to my posterior. Yes, the golden laurel wreaths and golden numeral 'III' on my flank was the symbol of the Praetorian Guard. I'd always fantasized that perhaps it meant I was destined for something big, something world-changing. But in the zebra-dominated Marediolanon, ponies observed a brutal reality: the marks on our flanks meant nothing. One could get a mark declaring their talent, but it didn't mean their time would be occupied solely by what they were good at. No, all Marediolanians served as necessary, whether they were good at something or not. Cutie marks weren't special. Cutie marks meant nothing. Such was the reality all us ponies knew, and such was the cause for my neglect of my own mark.
"Oh, don't bring that up again, Dad. I'm protecting our home because it's my duty, not because of some symbol on my flank..."
"Perhaps. But you got that mark for a reason, son. All things happen for a reason. Its meaning may not be significant or clear to you any time in the near future, but it has a role in your life. You'll see. And if nothing else, use it as inspiration. An ideal to strive for. The Praetorian Guards were an elite, Goldwreath. So even if you don't believe me because our home doesn't give a damn about it, you're meant to be like them. You're meant to do more."
He placed a hoof on my forehead. "And you can start now. Your mother is concerned for you, and so am I. But if we let that concern get in the way of your purpose, then we're hindering you. So go, Goldwreath, with my blessing. Do your duty. Let nothing stop you."
I nodded, glad to have been allowed to go and do my job. A part of me felt elated at what my father had said, being meant for something more and all that. I'd always wanted to believe I was greater than just being another pony, that I was special. And while obviously all people were, the environment Marediolanians lived in simply wasn't conducive to the development of the extraordinary in people, especially for ponies. I believed what my father was saying then was simply what people deserved, what they should get. I was just lucky enough to get the proper amount of encouragement at the right time, not limited to the parameters of my society.
I smiled and hugged them both. "Thank you," I said, sniffling. It had been six months since I'd hugged them. Now I was leaving again, once more of my own will. But this time it hurt more. This time I was forced to leave, because it was either I leave and do something, or stay and revel in their presence yet be tormented by an uneasy conscience. I made sure to give them both a kiss before I went back out that door.
"Quite a set of words you said there, father," mom sniffed.
"Well, he needed the talk. Our boy's something else. You know it and I know it, and he feels it. He needed the extra push. More to him than just a guard of some shelter. He'll change the world some day."
Ah, Dad. How he did love to speak that way, always with the grand-scheme-of-things kind of ideas. I was like him, in some ways. I liked to think of the larger picture, too. How proud he must be, then, wherever he is at the moment, of all I've achieved...
*** Roama Victrix ***
I trotted along briskly down the halls, trying to track down the hub of the outsiders' activity within Marediolanon. I felt heated, tense, but in an adrenaline-fueled kind of way. Everything I saw, from the paranoia of the Marediolanians stuck in their quarters to the unfitting emptiness of the walkways, served only to fuel the burning resolve to protect my home. If these people thought they could become our superiors in just one day, then I aimed to prove them wrong.
If my people needed someone to stand up for them, then I would be their defense. So I swore as I moved along.
To my relief, I was not alone in the endeavor. I only caught glimpses around corners, but there were at least a few other guards making their way to the atrium. The suspicion was finally confirmed when, at the foot of a staircase I had to ascend, I caught sight of a zebra guard up top, just about to make the turn. I recognized him.
"Excluvius! Hey!" I called. He stopped abruptly and turned around, paranoia in his eyes as he held his hoof where the bullets had wounded him. "Why are you out of the clinic?" I asked as I climbed the stairs.
He breathed in relief and smiled, then nodded over his shoulder. "Brother's gathered a few of us to look around, see what the foreigners are up to. I'm headed to the atrium to join up with them, seeing as a wounded leg wasn't enough to stop me." He smiled bashfully, "The poor overwhelmed mares over at medical didn't protest to my departure. I think I saved them some trouble." Then his smile turned sly, "I'm very considerate like that."
I urged us along, rolling my eyes at that last bit. "That's good to hear, but you must be careful. If worst comes to worse, I fear a wounded leg may be the gateway to more serious injuries. But come; I am of like mind to your brother. We can't fight them now without inviting genocide, but we need to keep watch still. We must do our duty."
"Oh, you mean serving Eckris," he grumbled. "Not sure if I want to, then."
"I mean protecting our people," I replied, looking around. Good, no foreign legionaries to meddle with us. At least they weren't walking all over the place like it was theirs just yet. We still had a chance to prevent that. As we trotted along, we neared the 3rd level entrance to the atrium. "We're still guards, Excluvius. Beaten and sent off like scolded foals, but still guards. We have a duty, and gods damn us if we let one defeat stop us."
We went forward, passing underneath the metallic, arched doorway and moving onto the atrium's 3rd level balcony. Up here we saw the entirety of our recreational center -- it was a wide, mountain-deep rotunda, domed with an oculus up top that beamed down artificial light onto the single olive tree we possessed. Here there were four levels, with each one specializing in a different kind of entertainment or social facility -- the first bore a park and plant life; the second, media facilities for movies and old shows; the third, shops for merchandise or services; the last was dedicated to our cultural heritage as Roamans: it was a museum, and one filled with all kinds of ancient documents and equipment.
"There," I pointed over at one of the 'C' shaped benches under the olive tree, two floors below us. "There's Eckris, with that legatus, Thanus." The two were engaged in light argument, with the foreigner waving a hoof around and then slamming it onto the table. Eckris seemed frightened, and understandably so given the legionary century standing nearby, surrounding the two with an octagon of controbernia facing outwards. As soon as we saw them some of the legionaries below spotted us as well, pointing hooves and having an observer keep a constant eye on us.
"Aw, Tartarus," Excluvius groused. "They're keeping tabs on us. Damn. There goes getting closer and picking up their plans."
I gave a little grumble and pulled us both from the balcony. "Well, we're not just giving up like that. We'll need to-..." I glanced over at the doorway behind us and spotted a small red dot of light, moving around in circles. We looked over across the atrium to the other side and spotted Eckris' elite, hunched down and keeping themselves inconspicuous. The one with the laser sight on his rifle mouthed something over and over until I made out its meaning: 'How many?'
He probably hadn't taken the risk of exposing his troops, given that the sight of eight zebras with guns spying on the invaders very well could have ticked them off. I drew the number '80' in the air, and he scowled. Then he faced his troops and made a throat-cutting motion, and they gave a similar reaction.
I looked to Excluvius, then back across the atrium as the soldiers left with as much discreetness as possible. "Well, we're not the only ones trying, at least... too bad they can't do more." I glanced around. "Now, where's your brother? You said he'd gathered others."
He didn't reply for a moment, then he grinned sheepishly. "Heh, I said I was going to join up with them here in the atrium... but he never did tell me where he was..."
I facehoofed. "Oh, gods damn it, Excluvius..."
He hung his head. "Okay, so I was hoping I'd be able to look around for them; you know, act normal..."
"With foreigners strolling around our home like they own the place?"
"Give me some slack, my head's running on anesthetic."
"That's no damned excuse!"
"Ugh, you sound just like my brother..."
I pulled my hoof away and grabbed him by the collar of his cuirass. "Listen here, you immature little shi-..."
Suddenly there was a commotion on the first floor. Excluvius' eyes were locked on me, fearful and shocked. I grumbled and let him go, then moved over to the edge of the balcony. Excluvius came up right beside me.
Two legionaries threw a guard to the floor right in front of their leader and my own. The beaten-looking zebra was then joined by two more Marediolanian guards, both similarly beaten-looking. Then the guard who'd been first thrown to the ground was yanked up and made to kneel before the legate.
Thanus shook his head and sighed, then stood up and grabbed the zebra by the jaw, examining him. "My my..." the legate mused, putting on a look of scrutiny that just dripped with irritation. "A guard. And one so bloodied. I'll not say your state is undeserved. I thought that we'd sent a clear enough message after the entrance hall to not resist, but it seems we've not." He glanced at the other two, then looked over to Eckris. "Tell me my satrap: how many people did you lose?" he asked unconcernedly.
"S-satrap!" Eckris yelped, fuming as he stood up. "Outsider, I'll have you know that-..."
"Please," Thanus interrupted. "Pardon the term, but answer the question. I'll have a full account of things before I consider what next to do with this... place. And of course, its people." My befuddled praetor didn't answer, though, as he struggled to calm himself, who so clearly looked to be panicked and unsettled.
"We lost three," the beaten guard said. The voice made Excluvius nearly push me aside as he got himself as close to the edge as he dared. "We lost three of our people, you outsider bastard!" Incluvius rasped, panting.
His tone made Thanus balk and take a step back. "Three? Well now... that's at least less than what could have been. And in all fairness, is equal to our own casualties." He took another step back and sat down once more. He eyed Incluvius with sardonic amusement for a moment. "Tell me, guard, these people you lost... do you think their deaths were necessary, or that perhaps were the result of some foolery on your people's part? I personally believe it to be the latter."
"Brother, don't listen to him," Excluvius muttered, shaking his head. "He's just trying to twist you up. You've warned me of these kind of people. Don't listen to him..."
One of the other two guards spat, "Foolery on our people's part, eh? Heh, that's funny... apparently it's foolish to just mind our own business. Why don't you crawl back to the dust outside, you dirt-loving maggot-eaters?"
"Silence now," Thanus replied curtly. "Such words are not necessary. Rather, speak with reason and a desire for peace, for peace alone will ensure your people's survival within the Legion. Be of like mind to that zebra who, I am told, swayed the hearts of my troops. Insults are so barbaric, and believe me when I say they'll only make things harder for you later on."
The guard snorted in contempt. Thanus shook his head, then looked over the atrium with a tired, irritated expression.
Then his eyes caught us. "Oh, look! More guards!" his voice echoed up to us, sounding all the more annoyed. "Please don't tell me you've come here hoping to devise a why to expel us, too. That will just be detrimental to a peaceful solution, and I do not need more hindrances now."
"This is our home, you pompous piece of shit," Incluvius growled, sparing a glance our way. "Expect more hindrances. Even if it'll all just amount to headaches for you, we'll give resistance. Don't think you can just take our lives from us."
Thanus sighed, looking more agitated than before. He glared at the soldiers who'd brought them in in the first place, and they shifted uneasily. Then he gave a huff and irritatedly waved the beaten guards off. The legionaries who brought them in hurriedly took them back out, throwing them like trash out the exit and closing the door on them.
Excluvius turned and galloped out, hurrying down the nearest stairwell to get to to his brother.
Thanus looked around again, and once more spotted us. He smirked and shook his head. "All these annoying hindrances..." he said aloud. "Alright, to any other dwellers of this place that are spying on us right now, whether I've spotted you or not: listen here. I'll have you all know that this shelter belongs to Roam. To the Legion. The purpose of your lives is to serve in our ranks. And you should all know this. Yet your leader tells me that not a single generation that has lived in here has prepared for nor ever even known of our eventual coming." He turned and looked right at Eckris, his gaze so heavy with contempt that the other zebra shrank in the seat. "Now... why is this?"
"We were never told! We never knew!" Eckris cried, backing away as far as he could get.
Thanus put on a look of utter disgust and disdain. "You never knew..." he said disappointedly, tiredly, and then clicked his tongue. "Yes, yes... you've told me several times now. 'We know nothing of Imperial Command number one', yadda yadda..." He let off a groan of annoyance, then waved a hoof at him dismissively. "Fine then, you don't know. Then get out. Prepare your people for a... gathering. I have much to discuss with your ignorant populace."
He trotted over to one of his legionaries, this one with a purple cape and a helmet engraved with an eagle. The legate whispered something into the zebra's ear, and the caped soldier left hurriedly, taking some other legionaries with him. Then Thanus sat down and glared at Eckris until he scurried off, per Thanus' instructions. The legate then looked over at me where I stood. "I said get out. That includes you too, red pony. Do as you wish, but mind you that if you attempt any kind of insurrection, well... you're only going to bring a world of pain down on yourself. You don't want that."
He dispersed his soldiers, who then took positions all over various parts of the atrium. I left the moment some of them started to come up the stairs that led to my position. I felt much like what Eckris would have: demeaned, belittled, and insulted. But what could I have done? I came to the atrium hoping to gain context, or to find a something to use against these outsiders. Instead I saw only how little tolerance their leader had for resistance.
But there was still some hope, even if it was not one for independence or sovereignty. Their leader wanted to speak to all the people of Marediolanon. Maybe shed some light on things and put some concerns to rest. That sounded logical, reasonable. And I would get them ready for the gathering.
I just had to make them realize that what they would say and do would determine the fate of their home and of themselves.
*** Roama Victrix ***
"Denizens of Marediolanon, please proceed to the atrium. Bring only yourselves; any possible arms and armor will be confiscated at the entrance. That goes for the guards as well, and goes especially for the guards."
"Gods, that's getting irritating," Dad grumbled.
It was morning according to Marediolanon's artificial illumination. It had been almost two hours since the atrium, and by now I had cleaned and freshened myself. Even with the occurrence of the extraordinary, my mother's instinct to pester me into bathing remained, much to my own relief. I'd feared she would never be the same after what happened, yet there she was... still baking, still making little jokes.
Now my parents and I were trotting through the halls, in a crowd of many others. Summer Sands was there along with his own mother and father. Some of the guards were going on by themselves, unarmored, unarmed, and inconspicuous. Even the staff of out facilities were present, save a few -- for example, Lighthouse, our chief engineer, was absent; probably for the best, for Marediolanon required constant maintenance. The presence of the other engineers was enough. It was good that many of us were going, and it comforted me to know some of them. But most of the people were the everyday folk of Marediolanon that I only served, never knew.
"Just don't let your irritation show too much," I told him. "This meeting is our chance to really get something from these people. Context, reassurances of safety, promises of prosperity -- I'll welcome anything. Let's not let our temper ruin things."
"As if the shots fired just a couple of hours back didn't ruin things enough," he retorted. "But I understand what you mean. I can keep my head together son, don't worry. I'm where you get your cool-headedness, after all. What I'm really concerned about is how the others will go about saying their thoughts..."
"They'll do their best to keep civilized. I spread the word of their leader's irritability after I saw it for myself; those who got the message will hopefully... be cautious." I furrowed my brows and sucked in a breath. "Oh, I sure hope they will be."
As we moved along in the crowded halls, many of us scared and all of us tense as we bumped into and writhed against one another, I was by chance pushed to be right against a familiar looking zebra. He was the one who'd saved our sorry flanks earlier, and spared me the consequences of my uncontrolled rage.
"Hey there," I half-yelled beside him, voice straining to get just loud enough to be heard over the crowd. He caught my call and turned his head, then mouthed a greeting. "I just wanted to say thanks. For earlier. I wasn't really in control of myself and all that, see..."
He narrowed his eyes and nodded, refocusing his attention to working his way around a slower bunch of older zebras. "Do not dwell on it, Goldwreath. I know you meant well... for us, at least. Rage can be difficult to control in any case, most especially in the extraordinary, unexpected situations. I'd have done the same."
Well, he knew my name. It was a polite gesture on his part. It was time to return the favor. "What's your name?" I asked, feeling silly that I didn't know one of my own fellow guards.
"Gravetanicus," he replied, looking back to me. "We were partners back in training. For that one game, 'Identify the Speaker'. Won second place, us. Remember?"
"Ah!" I said, remembering it well. "Yes, yes I remember now. So Gravetanicus... why didn't you do the same?"
"Hm?"
The crowd stopped moving, and from the looks of it those far up front were making slow progress. Made sense. A single entrance to the atrium was small on its own. We'd have used more of the many entrances if the first batch of instructions that made us aware it was time for the meeting didn't specifically say to use the first level entrances only.
"You said anger is hard to control, and that you'd have done the same. Why didn't you? How were you so calm?"
He looked away bashfully, smiling somewhat. "Ah, well... it's really simple. I just kind of follow a saying. By Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Roam. He said and I paraphrase, 'The refusal to imitate is the best vengeance.'" He looked back to me. "Had it not been for that little piece of wisdom, well... I'd have joined you in your raving. But I like to think of lots of ways to solve problems, not just a single one. Violence should always be a last resort."
"Should always be a last resort..." I mused, licking my lips in preparation for response. But I didn't say anything. His last sentence spoke for itself, and needed not be expounded upon. I smiled at him. "Thank you, Gravetanicus. I'll... remember that."
"Glad to hear it." He pointed a hoof forward, over the crowd. "Now let us hope for more. Let us hope that those you wisely warned of their leader's irritability will keep to prudence in the coming deliberation."
It was minutes later when everyone finally entered. From my spot within the crowd, my parents behind me and Gravetanicus beside me, I could understand now why they had us use only the first level entrance: they had poised themselves to gun us down in case the situation escalated. The balcony Eckris' elite had perched themselves upon earlier was just one of their firing positions. Now almost every single elevated platform bristled with the shining metal of guns and melee weaponry. Banners with the symbol of the wartime Imperial Roaman Legion hung off the ends of poles.
As the crowd writhed and pushed against itself in the now-cramped first floor, with any stragglers in the halls being herded in by more legionaries, who themselves then shut the doors on us to prevent escape, Thanus entered. Perched on the safety of a second level balcony with an apparent group of his own elite guards protecting him, the look on his face was a mix of both disgust, amusement, and simple boredom.
Now tapping a headset mouthpiece twice to test the device's functionality, he spoke with a voice that bore down on us from the many hidden speakers of our atrium. "Greetings, citizens of Marediolanon. I see most of you have answered my call to meet. That is good, good indeed. Perhaps now I can sort this mess out..."
No sooner had his last sentence ended than he was bombarded with retorts and scoffs, all charged with contempt and fury.
"Sort out this mess, he says! That zebra's gone mad!"
"Yanked down our door, you did! Have you gone insane? You couldn't have knocked gently first?"
"And maybe you can give my son back the life he lost, fucker!"
As soon as the frenzy of yells started, I covered my face and sighed. Well, what a lovely way to start negotiations...
"Settle down!" Thanus shouted, but kept his tone without the tension or contempt that he was being bombarded with. "I understand the confusion and anger you are going through. Believe me, I do. And believe me, also, when I say that I didn't intend it. You were supposed to know of our arrival! The problems we face now, we face because you did not know of us to begin with. And that itself is the source of our current hardships."
"Really now? And just how were we supposed to 'know of you to begin with'?" someone asked sarcastically. "If you know us so well, you'd know the door is impossible to open! Welded shut and all that; only time it was ever a two-way path was when our ancestors were galloping through it to escape balefire!"
Thanus clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. If there was one similarity between us at that exact moment, it was that we both knew diplomacy was going badly.
And as if sensing this similarity, he looked at me. As in, right at me; it was uncanny, unsettling. He relaxed immediately, straightening his posture and pointing a hoof at me. "You there. Red pony. What's your name?" he asked calmly, and suddenly half a hundred eyes were on me. The legionaries up top were staring my way, as if ready to put lead in my brains.
I gulped out my answer. "It's Goldwreath, sir."
"Sir?" he asked, just as surprised as those who'd heard me say the word were. My father's eyes were wide in shock, like I'd insulted him. "Well, now I've heard all this place has to offer! Insults and raving, questions and snarkiness... and now some actual respect!" He smiled, leaning against the railing and pointing at me again. "This kind if attitude, Marediolanians, will ensure the rapid return to normalcy. Cooperativity! Truly, I can imagine him speaking like that diplomat of a zebra I was told of."
Gravetanicus smiled and glanced my way.
"Therefore!" Thanus continued, "I shall base on him, who is so clearly one of the less thickheaded people here, the decisions I shall make for this place. Now tell me, Goldwreath... you're a guard, yes? I saw you earlier, I believe."
"I am." I thought about the people we lost at the door, people whose names I could still learn but whose person I would never know. Missed opportunities at friendship; wasted chances at happiness. And then I thought of those they had lost, as well. Soldiers, fighters -- brothers in arms, locked together in blood and battle. That such kinds of people had their lives end on cold steel was a waste and a shame.
A waste and a shame that could never be rectified. I could still see their blood around their lifeless bodies, and even then at that moment it made me shudder. But perhaps I could make it so that their deaths weren't for naught.
"I was at the entrance hall," I announced, making sure to be heard. "I saw what happened. I saw blood for the first time, spilled on my home's own floor. And I saw death, horrible death... for that, there is fault on both our sides. That much cannot be denied, and I'm sure that, for fairness' sake, both our peoples will make amends somehow. But you must understand that my own people are simply too confused, too shocked, and some have even been stricken with loss, to welcome cooperation. You will have to explain why you have done all you have, for their sakes."
He nodded, suppressing a grin of relief. "True enough. I was going to get to it, but I wasn't in the mood to bother... until now, that is."
With that he withdrew from the railings and cleared his throat, his attention now going over the whole compact crowd. "People of Marediolanon, here me now! You want answers? I shall give them to you. I'll not delay with pleasantries and formalities, so here is the situation as it should be: there should have been a file in this place's databanks, describing in scrutinizing detail what we of the Imperial Roaman Legion call Imperial Order One.
"This Order," he elaborated, "Was left by the last Roaman emperor, Titanius, as his final instruction for the rebuilding of the empire after the apocalypse. It states that at a time of our preparedness, the Legion would rise up from our own shelter and contact each of our fellow but far-flung bunkers. One such bunker is you, Marediolanon, the 50th in the series. From your population, like from the others we went to, we were to obtain useful resources of all kinds -- equine and non-equine.
"Yet for some strange reason many of these bunkers were not aware of this Order. Many claimed to have not known it at all, as you people claim. Why? I can't say... and I am highly disturbed by it. But in the ideal situation, it would have come to pass that once a shelter's door was down the populace would be cooperative. Having prepared for us, they would have almost immediately and seamlessly integrated themselves in our military and civic system. They would have been outposts across the Zebrican wasteland, garrisoned and protected by the Legion from the hazards of the wastes. With their help, the reclamation of Roam from its destitution would be speedy, smooth. Sadly, it's been... less than smooth. For months now. Every delay hampers us greatly."
With that he stepped back and let off a heavy breath. His eyes tired, he said slowly, "I don't blame you people. Perhaps some manner of apocalyptic chaos erased the file somehow, I don't know. But surely some of you must have thought on the possibility of governmental intervention in your lives. Certainly the first generation that lived here had been informed of the possibility of being reclaimed by the nation. Governments that split itself apart must consolidate eventually, yes?"
With that he ended, wisely stepping back to let us process what had been said -- the ramifications, implications, and immediate effects on our lives. The uproar of shock and confusion that followed was understandably chaotic. Thankfully it didn't reach the point of becoming violent. Families bickered, within and without, among themselves. The staff of different departments immediately took the information with technical concern. Would it mean, then, that we were to share what we possessed with these people? Support their efforts in 'reclaiming Roam'? Offer our quarters, our time, our supplies and our skills? Or were we to cast them back out, still, or at least reject them and that for which they came? Only one person among us had the power to make that decision.
"My people!" Eckris' voiced boomed over the atrium, quieting the chaos. Hooves were pointed and calls rang out until we all knew just where he was: on a balcony, directly opposite the one Thanus stood upon. With him was a handful of his own elite guards; they looked uncannily similar to the purple-caped legionaries guarding the foreign legatus. They couldn't have been distinguished at all if it weren't for the more weather-beaten look the outsider soldiers' armor bore.
Seeing that we had noticed him, our praetor took only a moment to collect himself before declaring, "Listened I have, with all due concern and prudence as required. And a conclusion, I have reached." His own headset wrapped about his head, and with the microphone close enough to his lips we heard him gulp, he said slowly, "We were the offenders here, I regret to say... and with even greater sorrow, I can blame only myself. Unfair are our accusations that they did not contact us beforehoof, for they did."
Cutting off the brewing uproar with his voice, Thanus barked, "Aha! So you did receive our messages. Why did you not react? You could have saved us all so much trouble!"
Though he'd interrupted it, his choice of words and tone only fueled the sudden anger and disdain the Marediolanians seemed to have for Eckris. Even I couldn't hold back my astonishment as I yelled and demanded answers. The nervous zebra shifted his gaze from side to side, as if nervous he'd catch a bullet from his own guards.
Then at last, "I didn't believe it, is the reason!" he cried. "Yes, I did not believe it. Filled with much useless junk, my computer is. Hundreds and hundreds of archived transmissions from the outside. And useless, almost all of them are! Mad threats of destruction; claims to right to entrance using false codes; random audio files of music -- none significant! No single file named 'Imperial Order One' did I find. Not even using the deleted files recovery system."
"Well, so you didn't know of the order," Thanus growled. "But all my transmissions... why would you ignore them? I used the correct codes and phrases -- tell me I'm wrong. And weeks! I contacted you once a week for two months with the same message: prepare for our coming! What manner of IDIOCY moved you to do the exact OPPOSITE?!" he shouted, his voice thrumming with all the pent-up frustration he'd had to bite back.
Eckris cringed back, then looked solemnly and sadly over the assembled crowd. "Didn't... didn't think much of it, did I. Thought you were just a lucky waster..."
Most of us glared back, uncaring for his side of the story -- to be fair, his defense was quite weak. I didn't want to, but as he stood there doing nothing and saying nothing to attempt to right his wrong, I couldn't help but let the respect I'd brooded for him ebb away into nothingness.
He stood there for almost a minute in silence, while we waited anxiously for some sort of resolution. None came.
"Very well, then," Thanus said, tiredly but firmly. "Seeing as there seems to be no compromise brewing from the both us, I shall have to determine the course of action myself. And I shall try to be fair, to the best of my abilities." That said, he placed both forehooves on the railings and put on an expression of thought. We all bunched together and moved closer. He was an outsider for sure, and one with a hazy background and a possible lie of an explanation. But he at least seemed capable to act on the moment's notice. Not at all like our praetor.
"In all fairness," he said, looking over us, "I suppose neither of us can truly be blamed for this travesty. The deaths, for sure, will have to be recompensed by both sides. But I'm sure you all understand that this place is still meant for something more than just being a shelter."
"You mean helping your Legion?" someone asked.
Thanus nodded. "Exactly. It was the purpose for which your home was made, whether you like it or not. And me, I have been sent to collect." Then he paused, and his gaze turned wary, cautious. "That is assuming you people are willing to give of yourselves? I cannot force you to cooperate, though it would be a turn of good luck if you did..."
I scanned his face, eyeing his expressions. Underneath his mask of calm I sensed an indomitable determination, a relentless fervor. I realized that, though he was giving us the illusion of choice, there was only really one response he would accept. Perhaps he wouldn't gun us down if we refused. Perhaps he would bite his tongue and smile in acceptance. But somehow, he would solicit something out of us. Somehow, he'd get what he wanted. He had the means to enforce his desires, and perhaps the diplomatic savvy to convince us to let him do as he would. He had clearly gone through far too much trouble to simply let us get away with our liberty.
Their could only be one choice. To accept, or to become a client state in everything but name?
The crowd was conflicted. Arguments broke out. 'We must accept; it is our purpose!' 'Sit down, you old fool!' 'We cannot refuse their force of arms!' 'And what of liberty? I'll have my son grow free!'
The clamor escalated. Zebras and ponies alike started waving hooves, scowling and yelling. Trapped together in a cramped space, we couldn't escape, couldn't dilute or own wrath. Our pushing and shoving soon turned to brawling. Screams rang out as people fell, then were trampled, and then disappeared under a blur of hooves. Some tried to stop it, but the rift sown between us was widening with every second. Verbal demands were useless, not even from our own elders.
Mom screamed. I turned and saw her being yanked into the fray by angry zebras, but then Dad shoved them off and pulled her close. Alone, surrounded by anarchy, he protected my mother, his wife.
But I couldn't focus on it. Chaos was growing, and the people were destroying themselves. As a guard, I had to settle it. Not through stopping the fight, but by destroying the reason. I also had to be fair.
And in order to be fair, their was only one choice.
"I volunteer!" I yelled over the crowd. The clamoring slowed, then ceased. Everything was left as quiet as a vacuum. Hundreds of eyes stared at me, making my skin crawl and my breathing erratic. But I'd already said it; there was only going forward, now. "I-I volunteer as tribute to the... to the Imperial Roaman Legion."
Thanus' eyes were wide with wonder and total bafflement. This time I could tell that he was hiding no motives or plans; he was simply, totally caught off-guard. "Say... say that again?" he requested.
I felt like I was swallowing a stone. Gods, the way the people were looking at me... and especially the gazes of my parents. I'd have melted away in embarrassment if I hadn't been trained as a guard to stand firm. "In... in all fairness..." I stuttered, then swallowed again. "In all fairness, as we have agreed, both sides must provide recompense. My people are torn between active cooperation or total rejection. Therefore I give of myself, and only of myself. That way I can represent my people's apologies for at least one of your casualties without involving all of my home -- those who do and do not wish cooperation -- in the process. It is a compromise."
For the longest moment he just stared at me, completely without response. But then finally he broke into a smile, one almost maniacal. "Such... courage!" he said. "Such... initiative! Such selflessness!" He gestured a hoof over the crowd and pointed at me. "This is something for the stories, my friends! Let it be known that in the 50th shelter of Marediolanon among the chaos of half a thousand equines and when members of the 4th legion were outnumbered by anarchy, it was the pony Goldwreath that ended the violence! Let it be known that when the legate Thanus Decimus Meridius called for a civil response from the isolated people, it was Goldwreath that first raised hoof!"
He smiled down at me as pulled something out of a satchel, then threw it down at me. I barely caught the pouch. A jingling came from within.
"That's five-hundred denarii," he told me with a smile. "And you will need it for your new life above, believe me. Now," he turned his attention to everyone else, "Goldwreath here has given of himself. He will be taken outside to our camp, where he will immediately be lectured, trained, and outfitted to be a good Legion auxiliary. For those concerned, no harm will come to him that he cannot handle, and for the first few weeks of his enlistment he shall be allowed to visit here as often as is allowed by his new schedule. And assuming he is assigned as a local vigiles, he may stay in the area permanently as part of a garrison."
He turned to me again, then said something into the ear of one of his purple-caped guards. Immediately the zebra left, and moments later a nearby door opened, and he stepped out. Carrying a presence of calm sternness, he marched over.
"You will come with me now," he said plainly, and trotted off. I followed, steps slow and sluggish as a manifestation of my reluctance. I realized just then the gravity of what I'd just signed up for.
... your new life above...
Mom and Dad tried to stop me. They kept me at the door for an agonizing minute. But it didn't take much to get them to understand, and to let me go. Really, I think they knew it had to be done... they just didn't like it.
"But you will not be going off with that 'detachment' without my blessing," Dad said sternly, holding back tears. "I will not let my son be take from me by a... a wasteland."
There wasn't much holding me back after I got past them, at least physically. But the mental anguish, now that was keeping me back. I felt like splitting apart, an aspect of me going along with my own bravery (or was it folly?), and another aching to stay. The rift in my mind made me shake, made sweat bead down my cheeks as the tension in me swirled into a vortex of panic -- panic I barely held back. The soldier I followed served as my only guide in a time when the hazy image of my home's empty halls would have driven me to snap.
I thought about all I was leaving behind. My parents, my few close friends, those I idolized. Faces I would potentially never see again. The familiar sights and smells. I knew it was all silly -- I still had the chance to find a way to be assigned merely as permanent garrison; for that goal, I would do all I could. There was no point panicking and breaking down now that I had made a choice; I had to follow through with it, and keep a level head. It was illogical to regret something that was clearly for the better, especially if that regret could only hinder my efforts to ensure I would stay.
Yet I couldn't help it. I choked back my sobs and blinked back my tears. It was all I could do as I absent-mindedly followed.
Finally we reached the door. I stopped where I stood, eyes widening and mind clearing of my anguish. The vehicle that had earlier blocked view of the outside world was gone, revealing a... gods, how I couldn't describe it then. Now that I can, I can say it was afternoon. It was so foreign then, but that was the first time I saw light. Real light -- and it was orange, dousing a new world in the color of flames. Long shadows crept along the scenery, like horizontal pillars of black.
"Come now," the soldier said. "I've little time to waste on your gawking. Really, I'd like to grab some food before returning, and for that I need time. Hurry."
I wrested control of myself. Well, it was an... an eye-catching first glimpse, for sure. Not as bad as I'd thought, which was a comfort. We stepped outside. Immediately a strange, hard crunching crackled beneath my hooves.
Rocks. I'd only ever heard of them in documentaries, seen them in books. Now here they were... so brittle and dusty, crumbling underneath my touch... if I were in any better mood, I'd probably have made a game out of crushing them.
Of course, there was much more to look at than just bits of solid minerals. As I knew, Marediolanon was built into a mountain. The entrance was at the top of that mountain, so we were told, and it held true. It was not a wide-topped mountain by any standards; really, the slope was gentle enough to allow for perhaps a few dozen people to make a small camp. The gentlest slope allowed would permit a single vehicle to roll up. From my elevated perch I spotted a flattened section of the mountain below, like an enormous stair step, but it was circular.
I found myself fixating on what had been built upon that formation. A large camp, spanning the entire circumference of the earthen circle, protruded from the rock and dirt with such colors and variety as to stand out immediately -- light-brown walls that shone like gold in the strange new light surrounded tens upon tens of tents, divided by the dozens by color and size. Banners of the Legion bore their symbols with pride as the cloth danced in the air. All about and within the camp was activity of all sorts. I could only see them as ants, but I could tell there must have been hundreds of zebras down there, working. Two vehicles patrolled a nearby dirt road that could lead up and down the mountain.
"That is Appollania," the soldier said plainly as we continued along. "The 4th legion's camp in this region. Small as of now, but that will change with time. Hopefully."
I felt a shock jolt through me. That was small for them? I spluttered, bewildered, and was about to let loose a torrent of questions.
That's when I was blinded.
It was not a painful blindness, not like what I encountered earlier. It didn't last as long, nor was the light as intense. Soon enough my eyes adjusted, and I looked off to the right. Through a haze of distant blur, I spotted a brilliant orb hiding behind the crooked landscape of distant hills. It was already dim, and its light was getting softer and softer, darkening the world I stood in...
"What is that?" I asked instead, not quite sure what to make of it. It was beautiful, yes... and that's why I cursed at the distant lands for hiding it. "An... explosion? A-A megaspell?" I asked in a rush.
"Ha!" the zebra barked. "Oh, you sheltered equines. We at least had the sense to read of the world we would eventually conquer. Conquer again, that is. That was the Sun."
"The Sun?" I blinked. The Sun. The source of all life on the planet -- the provider of warmth and happiness. I'd never seen it beyond videos, and even now it eluded me. "Is it... okay, so it was setting, that means... it's going to be night soon?"
"Correct," he nodded, seeming amused by my naivety. "And soon you will see stars."
"Stars?"
He smiled. "Yes, beautiful stars. They come in many colors, in case you don't know," he said as we made a turn on a vague dirt path that gently lead us down the slope. "Red, orange, white. I hate the green ones. Ah, but blue! My favorite color."
I stopped. I don't know why I did. There was just this... creeping sense of power around me, like the air had been charged with electricity. Sounds seemed distant, sights were more vivid. I could think of nothing, yet in the void of my mind I felt a rush like I'd never felt before.
He turned and looked to me, eyes glowing softly with blue. Then the glow faded, and they were just regular zebra gold again. Everything turned back to normal as the sensations ebbed away.
He gestured over at the camp, smiling confusedly. "It's over there, the camp. Why are you staring into the twilight? What, did the mention of stars turn a few important gears in your head -- or, as it seems, stop them?"
I shook myself to awareness, and we continued along. Soon the dark-orange sky with its wisps of dirty-white clouds shifted to dark violet, then to near-black. Thousands of tiny points of light filled up the sky. But as we trotted along down the slope, I noticed something.
He'd said stars came in many colors. But... that didn't seem true. There were thousands of stars, but they were all blue across the vast, limitless heavens.
"Come now, Goldwreath," he chuckled, not sounding... quite like himself, "You have a life ahead of you. A life not... quite what you are used to."
Even now, I find that to be the single biggest understatement I've ever heard.
Entry #2 Orator. Heh, my friends tell me I'm good at being one. Maybe they're right. But Megaphone's the real orator; me, I just take some tips off him. Still... maybe I could take some lessons. You never know when something like that could come in handy.
Chapter III Loyalties "And where do your loyalties lie? With money? With people? With one's home? None of those matter. Loyalty is wasted on what dies; but an idea, an idea lives on. It eludes, but it can be chased. It is caught with the effort and blood and sweat of those who pursue it. Thus, we must be prepared to shed all our chains in our hunt, or die, body and soul, like anything else we can be loyal to."
Outside.
After years of wondering and imagining -- of thinking up a scenery of bubbling pools and steaming craters punctuating a jagged, blackened landscape that ran off in all directions for miles and miles -- I finally saw it for myself. I could see the calm sky, the brown dirt and the rusty rocks. The Sun, I saw for a short while. Now, as the soldier and I climbed down the ragged dirt path stamped into the landscape by, so I was told, by the original builders of Marediolanon, I saw that the Outside was nothing like what I had imagined.
It was beautiful. I never thought I could say it, but it was. It differed in color and style -- it was wild and exotic. Marediolanon had always tried its best to refrain from being dull. Once a week, the colors of the curtains and blankets would shift; the styles of pillars would change, circulating between blockish and practical to elaborate and detailed. But it was nothing at all compared to the variety that greeted my eyes at that moment. Sharp cliffs lanced down into the earth, then straightened into a plain dark-grey field in the dim light of evening. Smooth rocks turned jagged as though they'd been struck with hammers. The cool air that so resembled my home's air conditioning turned warm as we descended.
It shamed me to feel like it then, but despite what had happened over the course of the day -- willingly leaving my parents, my home, my friends, and my life and witnessing death and the near-loss of one of my idols -- I was... glad. The moment I stepped onto the dirt and saw the land, it was as if all the negativity and anguish was left behind. I felt elated. The world was so much bigger than I'd ever thought, and now I could roam it freely... all of it. I wasn't underground anymore. I was free.
Not yet, I thought. At least, I felt like I thought it...
No, you're not free yet, Goldwreath. There are a few things yet that must be done before that can even be a possibility.
Ah, it was true. Bitterly true, in fact. The reality was that I wasn't out here to be free; I was out here to shoulder the debt of my people. I wasn't out here to marvel at the new world before me, embracing its beauty and dangers alike; I was out here to toil and work. I was out here to be restrained.
As we approached the camp, that reality was only enforced by the heavy grey gates that barred my entrance. And I knew that once I entered, those gates would close. Then there would truly be no escape from the path I had chosen.
***Roama Victrix***
"Open the gates!" commanded the gate-keeping legionary. From his perch upon battlements ten feet off the ground, his voice could easily have gone far into the camp.
A moment later the gates groaned and shrieked. Sparks showered down from the top of the square gateway as the two heavy slabs shifted sidewards, making me back away in fright -- gods, I'd only ever encountered sparks once before, and it was without a welding mask. The scraping of metal on metal tore into my ears like a chainsaw; at least the ramming on Marediolanon's door wasn't a continuous noise! Bright lights flooded through widening entrance, thankfully not intense enough to blind me. As soon as the space beneath the gateway was wide enough for three to trot abreast, that same number of legionaries -- now near-featureless silhouettes of black and dim colors in the advent of the night -- came rushing out, guns drawn.
I backed away and raised my forehooves, yelling over the noise that I was unarmed and not a threat. They didn't even hear me. Soon the gates were wide open, and the soldier and I stood opposite to the camp's armed deputation.
All three of them had strange masks on their faces. In the brief, quiet standoff, their breathing filled the air with muffled respiration. Then the one in the middle -- clearly an officer as declared by his helmet's crests -- spoke with a voice like a rasping old zebra, "First one out of the Stable, Postulma? I assume that means the population doesn't carry disease?"
The purple-caped zebra shrugged. "Well, I'm not sick yet. And, hell, neither are you! We've been out here for almost seven months now, Euvius. If we were to get sick, we'd have gotten ill the first few weeks. This is honestly getting tedious."
"Bah," the officer groused. "You can ever be too careful out here. Damned wasters could be carrying all kinds of evolved bacteria. Vigilance is the price of safety." The critical, scrutinizing eyes of the officer known as Euvius turned to me. "You sure he's clean? Campus Apollania can't take any chances with taking in infected individuals."
The way he said it made my skin crawl. Images of monsters from old films came to mind -- did he mean zombies? Oh gods, or maybe something out of that film 'A World of Eldritch'?
The soldier I now knew as Postulma looked at him plainly. Then he grinned and said aloud, "Oh, no, no! He's clearly infected. Can you not see his skin is tumored with cancer? Oh, and his eyes -- clearly they carry the symptoms of leprosy! Best to burn him now. Quick, Euvius, before he infects us all with his aura of contamination!" With that Postulma backed away from me, looking paranoid. I looked back to him with utter confusion, mouth hanging down.
He shielded his eyes. "Ah, stop him! His gaze has somehow obtained the ability to shoot bacteria beams !"
Euvius growled. "Alright, fuck you, Postulma. If you weren't one of the damned elite tent-guards, I'd-..."
Postulma immediately ceased his demeanor and pushed pass the group. "Yes, yes, I've heard this before. 'I'd throw you off the Tarpeian Rock'." He shook his head, then turned around from under the gateway and beckoned me come along. "Come on now, Goldwreath. Don't mind this one -- old habits die hard."
I nodded and looked from side to side, at the guards. They were giving me disdainful looks, like I was a piece of meat that had visibly gone bad. I tried to keep a straight face as I briskly trotted by and entered, glancing back at them as we moved off.
"Heh, hospitable bunch," I chuckled nervously, then cleared my throat and looked to Postulma. "They, uh... they do that to all people that enter here?"
"Only the non-Legion types. Wasters, prisoners, Stable people. Don't know why they bother with that last bunch; not like the Roaman government would have risked letting anyone with a contagious disease into one of their shelters," he replied. "Still, I suppose any manner of development could have occurred..."
I stared at him, then asked, "And, er... diseased? What's that about?"
He hissed as if the topic cased him pain. "Long story. Let's just say that, uh... well, I can't say just yet. Up to Thanus to decide if you should know. But if you need something to peruse, just know that wasteland environment's damned harsh... especially on us from the Legion."
"Huh." I looked around, at the bit of tamed wasteland within the confines of the camp. It was strange, seeing rust-brown earth illuminated in the oranges of fires and the whites of more artificial light sources. It was even stranger to see a land I thought to be hostile in every conceivable manner used as the foundation for... forges. Training rings. Medical and housing tents. Barracks.
Those were what I saw the Legion making of the wasteland -- useful things, practical things. They had vehicles, an armed force, and judging from crates of supplies I saw, they even had a logistical system. They may have involved my home in a convoluted governmental decree, but now that I saw them for myself, I lost all doubt that they could fix the wasteland if they really tried. They could rebuild the Roam I'd grown up fantasizing and reading of: a city of gleaming white marble, a bastion of the ideal everything.
For that fantasy and any chance of its becoming reality, I decided that if the Legion proved true to its cause, then I would have no qualms with helping them achieve it.
"It doesn't seem so bad, the wasteland," I remarked. "Disease surely still exists, but... well, it's just not as harsh as I imagined it."
"Really now," he muttered incredulously. "What makes you say that?"
We were heading down a wide dirt path cutting straight through the middle of the camp. At the end of the path was what was clearly the command tent -- it was the largest, and the flaps were a rich, dark purple cloth. Above the flaps was a wooden pavilion that acted as a mount to a tall flagpole that bore the Legion's insignia: crossed golden gladii, in the background of which was a golden map depicting the Roaman empire at its height. Two soldiers just like Postulma in appearance flanked the entrance.
It was a praetorium, the tent of a Roaman legion's commander. Those guards were praetorians. I wanted to smack myself on the head; how had I missed it? With his purple clothing and darker armor, Postulma was clearly of the Legion's own praetorian guard. And I only realized it now! Eyes locked on the tent and the guards in astonishment at the revelation, I answered in monotone, "It's not dotted with pools of radiated goo. No green-lightning storms. No skin-peeling wind. Seems like a plain desert."
He snickered. "Well, that's because you've just seen a desert. The city of Appolania was built in one, after all. The Roaman empire's geography was very diverse like that."
"City?" I stopped. "This is a city? I thought this place was small for a camp, now it's a city?"
He looked confused for a moment before his eyes flickered with realization. "Ah, no no!" he laughed, then pulled me away from the praetorium and towards the edge of the cliff behind it. The dirt and rock here had been piled atop each other, creating a parapet of messy earth. There were wooden fences and barbed wire stabbed into the ground, and off on the other side of the praetorium's backyard were praetorians on patrol. Postulma pointed out over the darkness, at some flickering lights and towering patterns of black in the distance.
"That is the city of Appolania. This is Campus Appolania, named after the city. We are in the city's zone of governance, so legatus Thanus decided it be named in honor of the empire's defensive technologies research hub. Make sense now?"
I stared out over the blackness, at the dark, towering figures in the distance. I couldn't make out any details except for what flashes of light revealed, but the flashes were huge, fiery -- destructive. Explosions, I realized. And lots of them. The distant gleam of the structures' metal and glass and rock made me curious. I'd read of the city of Appolania, but I never realized our home was in its territory. Yet there it was, no less than perhaps a few miles out. Now parts of it flashed before my eyes, like a fire clinging to life on the last embers of coal.
And I realized as well that, like a fire, the city was burning.
"What is happening to it?" I asked. "It's... it's on fire. It's being destroyed."
"You have a good eye, then, and a quick mind to recognize destruction despite having witnessed so little. Most stable-dwellers like you tend to be... slower to recognize such nasty things," he replied, squinting as he looked into the distance. "Well, Appolania is a war zone, yes. Tribes and savages control most of it. Few of them recognize the Legion's sovereignty and authority; we have few allies here, or anywhere. Still, it is our job to revive the empire, starting with its nerve centers. If we must fight for that goal, then we will do so."
"So... you're waging a war," I concluded. The thought made my skin crawl. Wars were composed of battles, and one example of a battle was what happened earlier. Our door being yanked down... the chaos and blood and heat, all clouding the senses... and then the screams of pain and loss. Thinking that more of that was happening brought images of fire and death to mind. My hooves trembled at the imaginary sights, and I struggled to clear my head.
"We are. We're waging many, in fact," he replied plainly. "One city, dozens of tribes -- dozens of wars. It's a fiasco, really... but one we're managing to control. We're all doing our part. We're all fighting."
"But... you're here watching a cliff," I pointed out.
He snickered. "Only for now. Just long enough to bring this Stable under our control... if that'll actually happen." He sighed, but continued, "Plus, we're the first cohort, and the first cohort of any legion can't risk just putting itself in the heat of things. That brings the possibility of losing the eagle standard. Therefore, the other nine cohorts are the ones that must do the fighting. Our own nine are doing good out there, but they're going slow... part of the reason why Thanus prioritized your home."
He frowned and looked to me. "We're stretched thin, Goldwreath. A willing eighty volunteers would've been invaluable. The resources in your home would've been put to good use, as well. But..."
"But we're not willing to cooperate," I finished for him. I sighed at the thought. I could imagine what it meant to them, being rejected. They were waging wars against people who refused their authority, stretching them thin. To add to it, the pockets of assistance they were promised didn't even recognize them, stretching them even thinner. Instead of helping them fulfill their purpose -- and also our own purpose, if their word on our existence was to be trusted -- we were just distracting them. The first cohort could've been out there, fighting to reclaim Roam from the wasteland. Instead they were here, garrisoning near a settlement that probably would never cooperate with them.
My people were were a detriment. I loved them, but knowing all this now... well, we were a small thread in a grand tapestry. We should have looked at the big picture, not shut ourselves in. Maybe I was gullible. Maybe this whole display of power was just some elaborate scheme by some well-equipped bandit group to gain recruits. Maybe I was letting my desire to see a restored Roam cloud my judgement. But as I opened my eyes and looked back out over the darkness and the distant fires, I knew that we needed the Legion just as much as they needed us. Sooner or later, something or someone with the ability to bring down our door would've found us, and they may not have been as 'friendly' as the Legion. Without them policing the cities, we could've been killed long before by mutants, somehow. And now, undermanned, they needed us. Naturally, we were suspicious and cautious, unwilling to cooperate, content to stay put, and even more content to take their promises of safety -- content to receive, and not to give.
But that wasn't fair. Absolutely not fair. I would give all of myself up to pay our heavy debt, and my people... they were willing to let me pay that debt alone. I wasn't angry, but I knew what I had to do to make it right -- to make the wasteland right.
I had to make them see that bigger picture. I had to make them understand that they had a duty as Roamans.
Postulma clicked his tongue and nodded. "Yup. Pretty much the main problem right now, really... and not just with Marediolanon. I can't stress how much more effective we'd be if at least half of the Stables cooperated. We can well accommodate their demands for food and supplies; why don't they send any volunteers? I mean, they can choose not to agree, sure. But gods, they don't care for what's happening out here at all. We promise to do everything in our power to make sure they stay reasonably safe, and that's still not enough. Nothing is ever enough. Mars the Wrathful, they won't listen to reason. They won't listen to-..."
"I'll get them understand," I cut in. He stopped mid-rant and leaned forward to give me a look of confusion. "You're right. They won't listen to reason. But perhaps, given a chance... they can see it."
"Really now?" His voice was uncertain, baffled. "How? What're you thinking?"
I took a deep breath, pondering on what to say. "I'm thinking that... well, maybe if they saw just how much your Legion can do for us, they'd have second thoughts. Power-projection can move people to more than just fear -- there is awe, as well. Maybe let them see your camp, your vehicles, your troop formations. Perhaps show them what you shield us from, if you shield us from anything at all." I narrowed my eyes. "They don't trust you. And neither do I, yet. But if you really came here for mutual benefit, let it be shown."
He cocked his head. "You're suggesting what we've already done. We've shown restraint. Isn't that enough a show of goodwill?"
"Well... yes it's a show of goodwill, but it's not enough. You need to do more, I think. You need to wait for an opportunity to convince us all that you can indeed protect us, and that you will." I nodded over at the city in the distance. "If they see that city in ruins from your wars, they will fear you. But if they see a mutant swarm coming for us, with only you between us and them, well... if you're victorious, maybe you'll win more than just a battle. You could win our trust."
He crossed his forelegs. "So you mean to say that we must show your people our sincerity and ability, more than we already have?" He shook his head, looking uncertain. "Well, maybe, but..."
"Well, it's just my suggestion. If you deide to follow it somehow, make your objective winning trust, not gaining benefit. Only then can the real reward be obtained."
He stood there for along moment, pursing his lips in thought. Then he looked to me. "I will inform Thanus of this. I don't know just how he'll apply your advice, but perhaps he can find a way."
I nodded. "I don't doubt that he can. He seems like the type that won't take no for an answer."
"He is, and good observation. But have no fear, he's not the ruthless type either. He does what needs to be done... with restraint."
The moment fell into a silence as we looked out over the wastes. My mind was heavy with thought, wondering if what I'd said wasn't perhaps a form of betrayal. I had to remind myself that this was for their own good, and for fairness' sake. They couldn't stay shut in forever, not doing anything to make the world a better place. It was wasteful, both of theirs and our home's potential. Any existence spent doing nothing wasn't worth maintaining.
Nonetheless, the notion that I may have been going against them already left a grim imprint on my mind.
As a distraction against that unsettling thought, I took a moment to observe the environment, the world I would now reside it. Really, against my own expectations, I liked it. Everything felt so much more free, more wondrous. Marediolanon felt constraining and cramped in comparison. I could finally stretch my wings without bumping into somebody -- I could finally fly, if my wings weren't so lacking in muscles from years of neglect. But I could possibly rectify that now. That's what the outside was. A world of possibilities, and a world of new and wondrous things.
Like cold wind.
I felt my coat go numb and shiver. I tucked my unused excuses of wings in close, bracing against the chill. "Whoo, gods, that's cold," I said with a shaky breath. "We got air conditioning in there, but... whoo, nothing that makes me numb like this."
"Ah, you'll get used to it," he replied, his purple cape wrapped about him. "That is, you'll get used to the usually skin-blistering days and the usually nuts-freezing evenings. But the nights are longer and colder nowadays. Near the winter season, you see."
"Winter... so, there'll be snow?" I gave a little gleeful giggle. "Like in those movies where people made snow angels and such? I've never seen snow."
"Well, neither have I and by the gods I pray it's not some radioactive shit. We've not been out that long. Just a little over half a year."
The night grew colder. Dust swept into the air. Postulma turned, waving me along as the winds picked up. "Come on," he said over the whistle of the wind. "You're retraining doesn't start just yet. That's tomorrow. I'll take you to your tent."
I pried my eyes away from the gloomy darkness and turned to the brighter lights and noise of the camp. And now there was a thing I didn't notice going in: a smell, sweet and savory, with the tang of spices and the strength of wine. "What is that? Is it near dinner or something?"
"Dinner? Well, call it that if you like. Not too much food's going around, though. Definitely not in proportion to the number of people, but we make do," he answered.
"Oh? Why's there not enough?" I wondered out loud.
He didn't say a word as he trotted a few steps onto the camp's main path. He clicked his tongue. "Well... you'll see soon enough. Now, come on. We may be susceptible to illness, but we've grown used to how cold things can get out here. You haven't. Best to avoid chances of getting colds, eh?"
I sighed. I hated not being answered. I'd always labeled anyone who said 'maybe later', or 'you'll see' and other such replies as people to be wary of. A caution justified by the fact that my friends used to lure me into nasty little surprises. Even up to now, the memory of Summer Sand's little April Fool's joke made me avoid ketchup and all it's possible... blood-look-alike uses.
Still, Postulma was of the Legion's praetorians. Surely that meant he was one of the better people, one of the more trustworthy. So I followed him.
"So long as there's no ketchup-smothered dummy in the tent."
"What?" he asked, baffled.
I shook my head. "No, nothing. Lead on."
***Roama Victrix***
"If you'd told me earlier that my life outside would be spent at least partially in the comfort of a two-story tent with a nice home setup and collapsible stairs, I'd have been... very skeptical."
Really, the place had everything a soldier on campaign would need and more. Fit for comfortable living, in fact, which was strange. The couches were practical but not uncomfortable -- hell, I didn't even know of any military that kept couches in their camps. Yet here the Legion was, doing just that. The microwave was another surprise; the non-crude, non-bunk single beds lining the tiled floor near the internally-supported tent walls were just boasting of luxurious expenditures. The place even had its own dining table!
"What is this place? A tent for a patrician playing at war but wanting to retain the comforts of home?" I looked around, baffled. I picked up a nearby plate. As in a dining plate; not a plate for armor, or anything military-like. A dining plate. "I think you've brought me to the wrong tent..."
Postulma shook his head from where he stood, leaning against the entrance, the luxurious cloth-rimmed leather flaps cascading around his body. "No, I am sure I have brought you to the right place." He was grinning as he watched me round on him; he looked smug, even. This had to be a joke... I couldn't actually complain if it wasn't, but it had to be.
My expression gave him all the reason he needed to start explaining. "We don't really use money in the Legion. Don't need it, except for dealing with outsiders," he said. "For that, we've established a denarii-based economic system. But for truly internal transactions, we use raw materials. Kind of like bartering. It's simple, really. You want a nice pillow some rich soldier's wife gave him from our capital? Give him something for it. Call in favors. That's how we set this tent up with these... luxuries."
"But why? Is it actually necessary?" I pressed.
"Not biologically, no. But Thanus learned from the recent refusals of many Stables. Few were signing up because there wasn't much in it for them, so it seemed. Suspecting future refusals, he set up more inviting recruits' quarters. Increased volunteer count a bit, at least. Thanks to that internal bartering-system, we didn't spend anything at all setting this tent up like this. We just traded in the numerous bunk-beds for better ones. The result... well." He gestured a hoof proudly at the interior.
Okay, it made sense, fine. It was an... an incentive. But, "And what if it turns out the volunteer count was more than this place with its luxurious spacing and nice but few beds could handle?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Trade a single nice bed in for a few filthy bunks. I imagine the legionaries would find it a sweet trade, even if they'd be cramped."
I sighed and twirled a mug around in my hooves. Then I looked around, at all the nice lights and at the tiled and paneled floor, at the soft beds and the dining table, and at the second floor ten feet up where -- it seemed -- there was a lounge set up, with a coffee table and a radio and a set of board game boxes laying on their sides against the seats of chairs. It was nice... so nice it made me suspicious. It was too damn good to be true.
"Heh," I chuckled mirthlessly. "So I have to ask, then... your soliders. They get shit beds and crowded tents, and we recruits get all this. Bit unfair, don't you think?"
He snorted. "Boy, you've not even seen the veterans' tents, don't go saying they'll envy you. Bedding facilities, sure, could be improved, but everything else..." He smirked, then turned around. "Those soldiers had their wealthy-and-important families set them up with good gear and supplies. As for me, I don't envy you. I'm a praetorian. Best service-benefits you can get," he said with smug grin, then disappeared outside beyond the flaps.
"Enjoy your tent, Goldwreath. A gift from legatus Thanus for all Marediolanian volunteers!" he laughed from outside.
I was left alone. In a tent with very nice facilities, all at my disposal. It was almost impossible to believe. To think, earlier I'd thought we were all going to die; then I thought we were all going to be imprisoned and made into slaves. Now here I was, a volunteer for the Legion, benefiting from their glorified incentive strategy.
My people were in our home, scared and paranoid. Yet here I was, grinning and looking at my reflection in a plate. Was it deserved, I wondered, to receive all this after a sacrifice I believed I would suffer incredibly for? Was it right that I'd taken that plunge, and was rewarded? Well, when one believes in karma as I do... yes. Yes I did. That's not to say I forgot my people, the reason I made this sacrifice. It was too early to even start. But as I sat down and slowly laid on the nearest of the ten beds inside, I relaxed. I forgot it all for just a moment. I forgot it all and was just thankful that things were turning out far better than I'd expected.
"My people need to join. They need to," I murmured to myself. They had to. They could fight for a better world instead of wasting away, living a life where their greatest deeds didn't reach beyond our home. And they wouldn't be treated like conscripts for it. The Legion seemed very generous, very willing and able to accommodate.
They just had to trust them. Postulma said he'd bring my advice to Thanus. I wondered what plan the legate would set up to apply my advice, if he would. He was cunning -- he commissioned luxurious tents for recruits to attract enlistment. Surely he could come up with something else. But as for me... well, the Legion had my favor. Not my trust, but it was a start.
Gods, I couldn't believe how relieved I was at that moment. They say that people are left tired after a flood of emotion rocks through them. Well, so I felt then. And the bed beneath me didn't make fighting off the urge to nap easier.
***Roama Victrix***
I awoke fifteen minutes later. I could tell just that amount of time had passed because the little digital clock on a cupboard right next to the bed said so, and according to its count, it was 7:12 PM.
Nothing regarding the atmosphere seemed to have changed -- the noise outside was just the same, and so was the now unmistakable smell of seasoned, roasted, and mouth-watering meat. I never liked meat, though. Never ate it, either. But damn did it smell better than salads and soups.
I sat up, my senses slowly reawakening as I held a hoof to my head. I breathed through my mouth, but what came out was a rasp. My throat was dry, thirsty. The simple need for water drove me to get off the bed and look around. I suppose I shouldn't have been disappointed that the tent had no sink; not like they would've set up plumbing systems for a possibly temporary camp. I knew they had water outside. From the clinking and slurping and chewing noises, it clearly was dinner time. But like hell was I going to toss myself out there and ask for some. Too awkward, too much attention on me. I was fine with big groups if I was a part of the crowd, but to be observed specifically... a harrowing experience. That's why, whenever I was asked for a speech regarding anything, I'd always need someone at my side to share attention. On my own and under such scrutiny, I was a nervous, stammering wreck.
So I kept searching, and searching, and searching... took me five minutes, but I discovered a bunch of chilled water canteens inside a cooler. I snatched one and took a big gulp, then spat almost all of it back out. Gods, it was sour! And sweet, and tangy, and... and a lot of things, all at once. I fought back a cough and held the canteen in disgust.
"What is this?"
"That, my friend, is posca," Postulma said from right behind me, and I nearly jumped as I rounded on him, instinctively reaching to my hip where my gladius once was. Of course, it wasn't there now, which seemed to amuse the purple-caped zebra.
"Careful now, alright?" he smirked. "Can't tell you how many times too-quick-reflexes injured and nearly killed people. We need speed for combat, sure, but we aren't fighting. Not yet, anyway."
"Yeah? Well then, maybe people shouldn't sneak up on others," I huffed, getting my heart rate back down. "If it happens that often-..."
"Nearly happens that often," he cut in.
"... nearly happens that often," I growled irritatedly. "Then maybe people need to be a bit more conspicuous, for their allies' sakes."
He shrugged. "Eh, maybe. Mostly just occurs with you Stable types, though. Lacking combat experience, not knowing the value of hesitation. That kind of thing." He trotted over and patted me on the shoulder. "Don't worry now, you'll get the hang of it. Only real problem you'll have is low-light identification. Real nasty bitch, those kinds of situations... which is where posca comes in handy." He pointed to the canteen and at the light-violet fluid I spat onto the nice clean wooden floor.
"What... this stuff?" I asked, baffled. "Is it some kind of night-vision potion?"
"Hehe," he snickered. "No, no it isn't. It's wine and water mixed with vinegar. Hydrates the body, puts taste on a bitter tongue, and speeds up the head all at once. Most legionaries want more wine in it, but it's damn fine with the current solution."
I looked back to the canteen in slight disgust. Well, I was looking for water, and I did get it and more, sure... but it wasn't for me. Tasted like shit at first, but if there was anything I liked, it was that inexplicable aftertaste. Still nothing that beats plain water, though. "Right then, okay... and just how would this help the soldiers get themselves in control?"
He smiled humorously. "Well, if you're lucky, the wine'd have slowed them down enough that they wouldn't point a gun out of reflex. Or, if you're really lucky, they'd have drank just enough to perk their heads up and see you're with them. Alcohol's a double-edged blade like that. Just right, quick head. Too much, slow head."
He grinned to himself. "Hey, it rhymes!" he beamed, then hummed, "Just right, quick head; too much, slow head..."
I watched him for a moment as he did a little head dance, moving to the rhythm of the rhyme. Then I smelled the sweet-sour scent of the posca. But it wasn't coming from the canteen; no, it was coming from him. "You've been drinking, haven't you?"
"Well, of course! People're much happier and a lot warmer with bellies full of posca, the wonder drink," he replied, smiling. "Now, are you going to drink that?" He pointed to the canteen in my hooves.
"No," I replied immediately. "I can imagine it has appeals and benefits, but really I just want water."
"Ah, good." He swiped the canteen right from my hooves and took a swig. "Well, there's water outside. Come! Time to meet the first cohort."
Before I could so much as say I word, he was dragging me off. First towards the flaps of the tent, then past that and into the chilly night air. My senses were assaulted with the strong, bright lights of cooking flames and the overwhelming scent of roasted meat. Harsh metallic screeching from a thousand different directions blared into my ears. The crunch of cold dirt met my hooves as I fumbled along. My eyes hadn't even adjusted to the change in scenery and I was seeing everything as a blur when I was plopped down hard onto a wooden seat.
"Now stay here," Postulma told me. "I'll be back in... who knows, half an hour? The line to that big, fat brahmin's only gotten longer since last I saw it." He patted my shoulders and went off, leaving me disoriented as my senses struggled to adapt to sudden change in environment.
I wasn't much better off even when I adjusted, but at least I knew where I was in the hectic camp. I was sitting right next to a tent close to the main path, and just a little ways off to my right was a bright orange flame boiling a pot of water. A bunch of zebra legionaries tended to the fire and talked amongst themselves. The gate I'd come through earlier was still guarded and was all the way down the path. And there, up the mountain, where the entrance to my home was, was a fire -- a small camp, already established at the mouth to Marediolanon. I didn't know whether to take it as a sign of my people's submission, or Thanus making good on his word to protect us, or... or something else.
I sighed and kept to myself, trying to draw as little attention as possible. My efforts were mitigated by the fact that I was the only pony sight, and apparently that meant much to these people. They were giving me looks when they thought I wasn't watching them, talking about me in whispers. They were even covering their mouths, and the ones closest to me had strapped on masks to shield their breathing.
"Quod ille extraneus," one of them said. 'He's that outsider'. That's what I was to them. A stranger. Postulma may have interacted with me, but that's all I was until I became one of them. And now, sitting alone in a foreigner's camp with little knowledge of what was happening beyond what I saw, I realized exactly that would eat away at my existence here. I would never really be one of them. At the most they'd accept me, but judging from the way they glanced at me I knew they'd never hesitate to remind me that I was alone in a camp of zebras, a pony away from home.
I'd been tucking in on myself for just a few minutes, bracing against the occasional gush of freezing air before Postulma came back, a bowl of steaming meat in each of his forehooves. "Here," he said as he handed me a bowl and sat down on the dirt next to me. "Turns out, most of these louts don't mind letting a praetorian go first at the meat. Poor bastards." He snickered. "Ah well, at least I didn't have to pull rank myself... or wait in line." He shuddered.
I shook my head lightly and cautiously took the bowl. I'll admit, the strings and chops of steaming, juicy meat inside smelled good... better than most anything I'd ever smelled, really. Then my stomach growled; gods, it'd been a while since I'd had a proper meal. That cake mother made was... light, and left me hungry. Now the meat was starting to look good, and that was bad -- I'd sworn to myself never to eat meat. Dad and Mom didn't, nor their parents, and neither did most ponies in Marediolanon. I would not break a lifetime and more of restraint so easily. So I put it down and did everything in my power to distract myself.
"Thanks, but, uh... well, I'm not hungry. Full, and you can thank my mother for that," I lied. Who knew, maybe they'd look at me more favorably if I didn't eat their apparently scarce food. Best to try to play it safe.
He took the bowl and poured its contents into his own. "Well, I'll thank your mother for indirectly giving me more meat," he grinned, going through the food quickly with his bare hooves. The slurping noises he made as he sucked in the soft slices of the long, thin cuts were... disturbing me, and causing my stomach to rebel against my will. "You sure, though? Not too much left there. Wouldn't want you to go hungry now."
"Ah, yes I'm sure," I replied quickly. He shrugged and continued eating, getting his nice purple cape dirty on the mud. "Your uniform's getting dirty," I pointed out, nodding at his cape.
"Mhmm, what of it?" he replied.
I cocked my head. "Shouldn't you... not let it get dirty?"
He shook his head. "Nah, no point. Out here, things and people get dirty, scraped, scratched, shot, eviscerated, sliced, beaten, shelled, burned, crushed, pulverized, smacked and generally fucked up too often for us to really give a damn any more. Take for example this cape." He yanked the cloth out from behind him. It was filthy, and not just from his recent sitting. There were old mud stains, and the thing had more wrinkles than a prune.
"I washed and ironed this thing today, right before the first century of the first cohort busted down your door. Yet, look at it! Looks like it's been through Cerberus' mouth and throat, then out his ass or something." He flicked the cape away, going back to his meal. "No point in trying to look clean. We all got dirt on our hooves. Oh, and blood. Lots of that. Ah, but the more the blood, the bigger the grin on grumpy old Mars' face, right?" he chuckled.
I swallowed, and suddenly my stomach wanted to void itself rather take anything in. I started to shake, and not just from the cold. A little sniff managed to make its way out from me as I sat there, seeing that first battle all over again. All the fire, all the dead, and all the blood...
Postulma's expression very quickly changed to one of immediate understanding and remorse. "I, uh... I'm sorry. I forgot that... you know, your home, and your loss and... stuff. Your... your first time seeing blood? Tends to be common out here, so I didn't really think that through... yeah..."
"N-no," I stuttered. "I've seen blood before. When you're a guard you just do sometimes, you know? Sometimes you need to beat some sense into someone or... or maybe hit him in the leg with a non-lethal stab. It's the death I saw with the blood that makes this time different... that and having had my friend's party and our normal life ruined, and... and losing friends and nearly losing an idol and mentor." I fought back a sob, feeling my eyes go wet. I shook my head and looked away in embarrassment.
The people we lost; those who died -- they were gone forever. Mortality had never been a subject of much discussion or concern in Marediolanon. Assuming they didn't do anything to get harmed, a Marediolanian could expect to die a peaceful death, surrounded by family and incinerated in an evening-long ceremony.
But this wasn't that. Death out here wasn't going to be peaceful or unthought of. It was going to be filled with pain, loss, and anguish. Paranoia would grip any just wanting to survive. That exchange back in the entrance hall was just a taste of the cruelty of the times to come, and I knew that. I knew it since I saw such carnage earlier that day. It was a truth I wish no one needed to understand just to live.
And now here I was, my mind lamenting and expressing in tears and sobs my terror. I was scared. Beneath my relief and newborn determination to convince my people to join these outsiders, I harbored a fear of death... and of causing death. The Legion would ask me to kill, I knew it. And if it meant repaying the debt we owed them, then I would take lives. But the day I would kill would be the day I would cease being the Goldwreath that I was.
And it was that, the turning away from who I was and becoming another person... that scared me most of all.
"Sorry, just uh... it's just so much to take in," I sniffled, wiping my nose. It was a huge understatement, but it was true. He just looked at me intently. "I don't regret my choice to come out here. I see potential in the Legion. I see things that my people should see." I sniffed and tried to disperse the emotions gathering in my head. "But... it doesn't make the weight lighter. I have to repay the debt of my people, and if I can't do that... what will happen? And, gods, I don't think I can bring myself to kill anyone... not willingly. It's not my place to end everything a person is and ever will be. Only nature can and should do that."
Despite everything, he laughed. It wasn't cynically mocking or born of genuine humor. It was a pitiful chuckle. "Okay, I get that," he snickered, shaking his head with a little half-smile. "You want to let death be natural. Old age. Illness. You know, nothing violent -- let nature handle it."
His smile melted away, replaced with a resigned regret. "Well... if only. Thing is, violence is integral to nature. People are naturally inclined to fight, whether physically or otherwise. It doesn't matter. Conflict is in our essence, and well... out here, acknowledging that is the only way you can keep your head attached to your body. If you don't recognize the necessity of killing, you’ll get nowhere out here. You'll be a corpse, because when you're facing off with the enemy, hesitation is a weakness they'll exploit if it meant they'd live."
I hung my head and scowled. Never in all my life did I want to disagree more. My throat was sore and tight and bore a lump that made it hard to speak, and my eyes stung as I blinked out tears, but I was capable of talking back. I was capable of trying to force out the poisonous words.
But I didn't. It seemed his words were proving true, even in my own mind. I'd been torn asunder, conflicted as to what to believe. My consensus had been sabotaged by the betrayal of my own head, and now the venom he called truth was worming its way into me.
"I am sorry," he said, looking uncertain himself. "Killing is... more often than not the best solution to things. That is the truth out here"
I snorted, glaring into the dirt. "Maybe it's the wasteland's truth. But not mine."
I looked up, gaze locking with his. "If I'll ever kill, it will only be to protect. I'll never let it be my 'best solution'. Nothing that involves death can be the way things should be."
He sighed and leaned back, his disbelieving glance practically saying, 'We'll see.'
"Have it your way," was what he actually said as he brought the posca-filled canteen to his lips, his hooves trembling ever so slightly. He downed the liquid slowly at first, but with each glance he threw my way he drank bigger gulps until at last he pulled away, the canteen dried of every drop. A crooked, sour smile crossed his lips as he looked to the canteen in admiration.
"Wow, strong stuff!" He sucked in air through his teeth as if scattering the sting I knew the liquid had. "Bacchus, did they add more wine to this?" he laughed, shaking his head and throwing questioning glances off to a bunch of zebras on the other side of the road who were handing out similar canteens. They had not; I knew the answer. He was just trying to distract himself. Clearly our little exchange had had some fallout on him, and drinking was his way of dealing with it.
I let him have his distraction. Once the determination to prove that 'truth' wrong left me, I was left hollow, unfeeling. I was trying to wrap my head around so many things and so many emotions that I ended up understanding none of it. I sat there like a husk for who knows how long, but gradually the noise toned down a notch as some soldiers left the revelry on the road.
Then, "Open the gates!" I heard Euvius shout , and I was knocked from my trance. A teeth-grating metallic shrieking filled the air as the heavy doors shifted aside, and Thanus -- looking tired but relieved -- cantered in, accompanied by what must have been most of the legionaries he'd brought in with him.
Of those that strolled in with him, there was one that caught my attention: a zebra, cloaked in the skin of some furry beast, the flesh of its upper jaw and face draped over his head like a hood. On a specially-designed slot on his back was mounted a long silver pole, atop which stood a large golden eagle, wings extended proudly. My eyes locked onto the image and the IPQR engraving on a metal plate beneath it, unable to look away.
Thanus gave orders, and his troops stood at attention, yet I could only stare. There it was again, that feeling -- that void in my head accompanied by an undertone of tension, as though the silence of my mind was holding back a great wave of overwhelming thoughts. Then the zebra, who was so clearly the aquilifer, the bearer of a legion's Aquila, or eagle standard, stepped out of view behind some tents. The silence broke, proving me right as thoughts and sounds crashed back onto the fore of my attention, snapping me back to reality.
Postulma had left me the moment Thanus entered and was in formation in a square of praetorians, all being instructed and directed by their legate. Then they were dismissed, heading off into different directions all around the camp. Similarly, the legionaries scattered, quickly putting out fires and cleaning up messes, putting away excess soup and stacking stools atop each other. It was a curfew; I'd helped impose those enough to know it when I saw it. If Thanus had given any other order, it must have been 'clear the damn road and take the night off -- in your tents'.
Now it was just him and Postulma near the gate, with the exception of the guards. He and his praetorian held a short discussion. Then Postulma lazily flopped a hoof in my direction, and the pair trotted to where I sat. I swallowed -- this was the moment I'd been waiting for, the chance to speak with the zebra who essentially had the life of my Stable in his hooves. My nerves were on edge, my brain thinking up of what to say. It felt like the most important meeting of my life, and perhaps it was.
"Ah, I see you stayed right where I left you," Postulma said as they finally arrived. "Goldwreath, sir, has been well-behaved. A dream for a praetorian on baby-sitting duty; couldn't have asked for a tamer charge myself." He smiled, "Ah, but he'll let that caution peel off. When the time comes, I know he'll do what needs to be done... even if he may not want to do it."
"Mmm," Thanus hummed, eyeing me. His gaze made my skin crawl, his apparent scrutiny uneasing me. Perhaps I had nothing to be uncomfortable about. Perhaps I was just letting the fact that he was the zebra who controlled the immediate future of my people intimidate me. What I was certain of was that, judging from the way he stared, he had some kind of plan in store for me. And I wasn't sure I was going to like it. "Is that your current image of Goldwreath, Postulma? An individual to make sacrifices as need calls?"
"Yes, legatus," the praetorian replied.
"Good. Then my own observations are backed by another." Thanus nodded his way and then waved him off, and Postulma promptly gave a quick bow and left for the praetorium.
I was left alone in the presence of the single most powerful zebra I currently knew by name. I fought the urge to remain quiet, to be intimidated. I stood, bringing myself to his level. "Legate Thanus, it's-..."
"Cold," he cut in.
The road was devoid of almost all activity now, save some officers making rounds within and about clusters of tents. The noise the soldiers were making came from within their shelters, sounding muffled and soft -- easily drowned out by the howl of a renewed, chilly wind. Thanus was right, it certainly was getting cold. I shivered again. "Er, y-yes..." I replied, teeth chattering. "So... what now?" I asked.
"We go to my tent," he replied, patting me on the back to move me along. "The nights tend to get cold out here around this time. No sense staying out here to face it, not when there's warmth nearby."
We made our way down the road and up a small earthen ramp elevating the praetorium from the rest of the camp. Thanus entered first, and I followed. The immediate rise in temperature was a relief, pleasing.
The sights, however, were not. Unlike the recruits' tent (and those of the veterans, though I'd not actually entered them), the praetorium made no attempt to look more homely or comfortable than necessary; this was a military interior now, totally and unmistakably. The inner walls were a plain dark red. The floor was made of large wooden squares nailed together. Illumination consisted of a single long fluorescent bulb running the length of the tent's ceiling. The entire first floor was a meeting area, with furniture arranged near the center. The central table was blanketed by a huge map of plastic make. The only comforts and non-necessities present seemed to be a pair of washbowls on the table, a bed and some more homely seats on the small second floor, a few statuettes lining the top of a nearby shelf, the bust of a zebra upon which was what I presumed was Thanus' legate's helmet, and several bottles of wine.
Postulma seemed to be responsible for that last bit. Crouched next to a bottle rack at the opposite end of the tent alongside some more kitchen-based facilities, he was scanning the available bottles as if perusing which one to bring over next.
"Ah, of course!" He picked one up and looked it over. "Fifty years old, this; it'll be sweeter than a sugar cube, hehe." He stood up and plopped the bottle down on the table, then waved a hoof over at us. "Please, do sit and discuss things with a cup of my selected wines in your hooves. Everything is better with wine."
Thanus stepped forward and took his seat on the table. "I trust your judgement on alcohol, Postulma. I need the most relaxing flavors; that little fiasco back there was... draining. So many questions to answer... irritating." The legate looked up at me, still standing there at the doorway. "Take a seat, now. Don't act meek around me; I have little time for that. You and I, you see, have a few things to discuss."
Hesitantly, I trotted over and sat down. "Yes, I... I suppose we do." I cleared my throat. "Legate, I have some concerns..." I said, and he rose an eyebrow as he took a sip from a cup. Postulma, acting as servant-on-duty, brought over some bread, cheese, and thin meats on a platter. Though the site of the food incited a growl from within, I continued, "You see, I firmly believe that the Legion should do more to earn the trust of the people of Marediolanon. They just don't see the benefit of submitting. They don't know what's up here, after all."
He put down the cup and cleared his throat. "Ah, this. Postulma told me of your advice; I know what you mean. And I'm glad to say that I can easily arrange a means to provoke their trust and dependence." He smiled slightly, chortling quietly as he tore into the bread to make himself a sandwich.
The news caught me off-guard. "Oh? Really?" I looked about in confusion for a moment. "What is your plan?"
"Ah, I cam't tell you just wet," he said through a mouthful of bread. "Suffwice it to say thawt it winvolves... expwosions."
I furrowed my eyebrows in bafflement, prompting Postulma to speak as he trotted over to me, putting down a similar assortment of food. "What my superior means is that his plan involves some fighting. Well, lots of it. I can't say more for him."
Thanus nodded. "Thank you for being so considerate as to leave adding context to me. And yes, Goldwreath, the plan involves quite a bit of bloodshed."
My eyes widened in horror. "And whose blood will be spilled?" I asked quickly. When they didn't answer immediately, I stood up. "If you mean to harm my people, then I'll have you know-..."
"Oh, obviously not," Thanus interjected. "In the past two hours, I've come to know those people well enough. They’re stubborn, and fervent in their desires. If I were to attack them, which I will not, I'd lose any chance to secure this region. Our supply lines here are short; those people don't know it, but we need them. And I'm no savage. I'll not commit slaughter to get what I want... no, what I need. I can employ... other means."
I sat back down, sighing. My hooves were trembling, my nerves all thrumming like a charged wire. If I didn't calm down, I'd have had a nervous breakdown. So I drank of the wine I was provided, but just enough to think clearly again. "Okay... yes, of course. Obviously that would be a detriment to your motives here. Postulma told me of your needs, and you've just confirmed them. But it seems this entire discussion is rendered unnecessary by your awareness."
"Perhaps. I've salvaged an ongoing operation to achieve the goal you stressed. But I'm not just talking to you to help clear up some of this mess; I'd like to know who exactly it is I've managed to recruit." He swirled his cup around in his hooves, smiling relaxedly. "Care to share anything?"
"I, uh... you mean, about myself?" I asked, and he nodded. For a moment after I felt sluggish, unsure of what to say. I suppose I'd hyped myself up so much that the sudden drop in tension, and the sudden change in topic from the whole Marediolanon-Legion fiasco to myself, left me... without thought.
But I managed to start with just how I felt, luckily needing no thought. "I'll be honest, I am... confused as hell," I admitted, feeling a great weight leave me. I stifled a relieved laugh as I continued, "You know, it's just a bit much. I woke up earlier today, tired and cake-smothered, expecting to be greeted with just... just another day. Then you came along and, well, I saw death for the first time. Damned if it's still not something that gets to me... and then I found myself leaving my whole life behind. Now here I am, thinking and worrying so much about what to do and what exactly will happen to me... shit, I feel overtaxed."
"I think so," he nodded. "A stone cracks when subjected to heat and chill. Likewise with you -- a person who endures a plethora of different feelings over too short a time can find himself spent, hollow. Believe me, I know. When you're a commander, you deal with it everyday. And you're confused because you've felt too many differing emotions since we knocked on your door. Fear, relief, sadness, awe -- all in quick succession."
I nodded slowly, making him narrow his eyes. "But there's more, isn't there? You're skittish, and more than just from being nervous around me. I think you’re conflicted about something. Mind telling me what it is?" he asked slowly, gently.
"I..." My voice cracked, and I swallowed. Was I that easy to see through? "I-I am. Yes, I am..." I bowed my head and took another quick sip of wine. "Well, you already know it, so I might as well say it." I sighed and looked up at him. "I think I'm betraying my people."
Now here that train of thought was again. Damn me, I wasn't betraying them; it just felt that way. I knew getting them to participate in a mutually-beneficial agreement with the Legion was for their own good, if against some of the people's wills. But what could I do? I was a guard. I'd been trained to always do what was right, no matter the toll. And now the toll now was mental, flashing images of my Dad's disappointment, of Horus' disgust, Mom's disdain -- all reactions to the eventual revelation that, if Thanus' plan succeeded, I had participated in something they didn't initially want. That I, the pony they trusted with their lives, had handed them in to the deal.
My only hope now was that Thanus' plan would make them all trust the Legion, so that none of them would hate me for it.
"Curious notion," Thanus mused, absent-mindedly taking another drink of his wine. "Though, I can see why you'd think so. Less than a whole day out, and already you've made efforts to bring our two peoples together, though it's against the vast majority of your people’s beliefs." Leaning forward, he asked, "Now... why is that?"
I shook my head and shrugged. "When you first broke in, I was scared to death. I thought we were all doomed, that the wasteland had come for us. You see, I'd imagined the horrors of the outside many times, thinking up monsters and visualizing a landscape so hostile one would be dead in minutes. But..."
"It isn't anything at all like he thought," Postulma chimed in. "Told me this bit, too, sir. You should hear this."
Intently, Thanus squinted and put his hooves beneath his chin. I took it as the signal to continue, "But the Legion has tamed it. Or, well... at least the part of the wasteland that's in this camp. It's safe, secure, livable. That you've managed to assert yourself over a place I've feared for all my life is... extremely convincing, impressive. So I thought ‘I should help these people to achieve even more'. I suppose, following that intuition, I've come to think myself... easily swayed, gullible. I don't mean that your cause is fake, but I am saying that, maybe, I let the bigger picture capture me too quickly."
I bowed my head. "And all that in less than five hours..." I sighed.
"Well, don't let it shame you," Thanus said, sitting straight on his seat. "I've known you by name for just a few hours and by face for just a bit more, Goldwreath. You may think yourself a traitor for 'letting the bigger picture capture you', but I find it admirable. You easily adapt to circumstance, you see what most don't. You feel, but don't let emotions get in the way of doing what you believe is right." He wagged a hoof at me, insisting, "That sense has allowed you to understand that we need each other, the soldiers of the Legion and the people of Marediolanon. It is the truth, as you've seen and heard. And for that reason understand this: you are no traitor. You are an idealist, and one that acts for his thoughts. That is why I think you are the best your people have to offer."
I found myself speechless, flattered. If Thanus was good at one thing it was seeing into people. By the gods, he'd read me like an open book! It was a skill of his I both admired and feared. My only consolation was that I had some aptitude in that art, as well -- how else could I have seen what kind of person Thanus was when he stood atop that balcony? Still, he was better than I was. A lot better.
It was a long moment before I found my voice again. "Thank you, sir. That... that actually makes me feel better."
"Good. And do stop calling me 'sir', or 'legatus'. I can only take so much respect before I wonder if people are saying it just to make my pride swell. And I'm no fool -- too much pride can bring down empires and cause folly."
I blinked. This legate surprised me on every turn, first with his ability to see into me easily, and now with his firm denial of pride. I wondered if perhaps I'd read him wrong, that maybe I'd thought him up into a different kind of person than he actually was. Relentless, scheming, cunning: all traits I'd believed he possessed. But he wasn't at all like the cold-hearted mastermind I'd imagined him to be. Cunning? So he seemed. Relentless? He had an air of it, yes. But the type to scheme, to plot the convoluted downfall of those who didn't side with him? No. He seemed capable of friendliness and understanding, and seemed to own a great deal of both.
I stood, feeling the meeting had come to its natural conclusion. To my surprise, he stood as well, putting a hoof to his chest. "It's been good getting to know you, Goldwreath," he said, smiling. I returned the gesture and put a hoof to my chest, smiling back.
"And you, as well, lega-..." I stopped myself short. "And you as well, Thanus."
He nodded, sitting back down and gesturing at the entrance. "Well, you can leave whenever you'd like; I shan't hold you any longer."
I could have left that moment, but the large map on the table finally caught my attention. On my end, upside down, were the letters spelling the words 'IMPERIUM ROAMANUM'. Beneath the letters, also upside down, was a map of Roam at its height before the war. The printed landscape and archipelagos were similar enough to the maps of Roam I'd seen in Marediolanon, except this one had its lands and waters marked with countless markings of different colors -- there were arcing arrows, circles, X's, symbols of explosions, outlines of vehicles, hoof-drawn representations of rivers, lakes, and others. Clearly, Roam had changed quite dramatically.
"If you were anyone else," Thanus said as he watched me look over the map, "I'd have you flogged for viewing the Legion's strategic information. But as you're a legionary auxiliary now, if untrained, I permit you to look. In fact..." He waved Postulma over to a small cabinet, and the praetorian promptly went over and pulled out a similar map, though blank.
Thanus took it and started copying down the markings from his own map, symbol-by-symbol, drawing-by-drawing. "You'll need this more than that money I gave you," he said idly. He finished and handed me the new copy, and I took it thankfully.
"Thank you," I said sincerely, taking it and forcing back a smile at the thought of sating a great bit of the curiosity that had started brewing since I first saw that centurion's silhouette earlier that day.
"I suggest you peruse that tonight. If by chance you're forced out of garrison duty here, you may find that thing could save your life," he informed me. "Now, is there nothing else? Drawing that map has reminded me I have yet to set my plan in motion." Looking to Postulma, he added, "Be so kind as to gather the centurions outside once our guest leaves. I've much to tell them."
There was nothing else. I said as much, then turned around and made my way for the flaps, my eyes scanning over the map. I let out a tiny little smile as I spotted the name 'Marediolanon' -- my home, represented by a gear-shaped symbol.
Then I remembered something, and stopped abruptly. "There is one more thing, actually," I said as I turned around. I looked to Postulma, and the praetorian gave me an expectant look.
"Yes? What do you need?"
I cleared my dry throat and asked, "I don't suppose I could have some water now?"
***Roama Victrix***
I couldn't make out what I was hearing. Thanus was clearly addressing the assembled centurions, but what he was saying obscured by distance and the walls of the tent. For a while I looked over the map, familiarizing myself with the contemporary landscape of the empire. Then the noise died away as the centurions were dismissed, and all became quiet.
The hour struck nine in the evening. I'd gotten back to my tent nearly an hour earlier. Yes, my tent, seeing as there was no one there to share it with me. There was something both oddly comforting and grimly disheartening to having the entire place to myself. On the one hoof, I had unrestricted access to the amenities and comforts Thanus had so generously obtained for the volunteers. I had a whole bed to myself, and it was of no shy size -- I could stretch my whole body out upon it with remaining room for luxury. Not at all like the tight, cramped bunks of Marediolanon's barracks.
And on the other hoof, I missed just that. I missed the noise, the chatter of eighty other people, even if I only ever used it as comforting background noise. I never really spoke much to them -- Summer Sands was really the only one I ever conversed with, mostly because he was my official partner in the centuria. But now, alone in a quiet, spacious tent... I was reminded just how much we'd gone through together in training. And then after that, in the months after our becoming the peacekeepers of our home. We swore oaths of unity and honesty so that we would always be there for each other.
So was that why I was alone? Did they all reach the consensus that their place was in Marediolanon, not outside? Did they let me sacrifice myself not because they wanted to, but because those oaths bound them to look after the majority, not the individual?
It was a disconcerting notion, but one that had some background. 'Always stay in formation' -- the magical words Horus had taught us. Even in combat drills, anyone caught stepping too far out of the line to pursue a fleeing enemy would be punished. Initiative was on the part of the officers (in that case only Horus and another randomly assigned mock centurion), never on the rank-and-file soldiers. I suppose that extended up to here: I had stepped out of line, out of formation, to pursue a goal. Now I was doomed to fight alone, while my fellows clustered together in the safety of each other's presence.
I sighed and stared at the cloth of the bed, my mind distracted from the map. After a while I decided I was in no mood to peruse it amy more, not the way I felt. Even with Thanus' words, there was doubt, and it was compounded by my being alone. Were it that there was at least one more volunteer to make me feel like I wasn't abandoned for one reason or another... if only. I quietly folded up the map and placed it on a nearby drawer, then switched off the lights and laid on my back. The outside was eerily quiet -- I suppose the officers had been successful in imposing the curfew.
It was quiet. Too damned quiet. I never liked the quiet. I always fell asleep most soundly when at least a few others in the barracks were still conversing. It was a reminder that I wasn't alone.
But that's what I was now. Alone, and left unanswered as to the events to unfold the next day. Questions nagged at my consciousness. Concern swelled up within me. Yet there was nothing to be done about it, nothing but anticipate. So I closed my eyes and waited.
It took a long, long... long time before my uneasy mind finally drifted off to slumber.
***Roama Victrix***
B-JEWG !!!
My eyes snapped open. My legs kicked hard against the bed, thrusting me onto my hooves as the adrenaline surging through me broke my sleep. My heart drummed in my chest, my lungs sucked in air to fuel the stupor-shattering surge of energy and acute awareness.
An explosion! The first I'd ever experienced, and it had detonated right there, inside the camp! Even as I stood there like a statue, unsure of what to do next, the blast of heat and wind flew over the tent, sending waves rippling across the walls. I blinked rapidly as I heard shouts outside, the clamor of soldiers as commands were bellowed through the chaos. Then I yelped and jumped as a sharp rock punched through the ceiling and lodged itself into the wooden floor, smoking.
Then beyond my belief more explosions tore through the air, each seaming closer than the last and shaking the earth more violently each time. B-JEWG!!! B-JEWG!!! B-JEWG!!!
I could very well have either cowered under cover inside the tent or rushed outside to see what was transpiring; my mind, having only witnessed as of yet one genuine display of fatal violence, was reeling from the area-of-effect of another. Conflicted, I stood still, making no decision as panic, fear, and concern fought for dominance in my head.
It was at that moment of doubt that Postulma came strolling in past the flaps, bread in one hoof and a canteen in the other. He threw me a cheeky smile, still chewing on his food. "Ah, morning. I see you've heard the wake up call."
"Wake up call?"
"Mhm," he replied, taking a swig of posca. "Yup, the wake up call. Well, not the official one, no. The troops woke up half an hour ago to form up for the attack. That one was to really break their stupor!"
"So you set off explosions to wake people up? Are you out of your mind?!"
"Ha! No, we didn't set those explosions off," he replied easily. "No, the enemy did that with the few artillery cannons they've got. Should be just a few more blasts, then they'll be out of ammo. And after that..." He grinned deviously.
Enemy? Explosions as 'wake up calls'? "Are... are we under attack?" I asked, feeling incredibly sluggish and not just a bit stupid for it. His flat gaze only compounded my doubt, and I asked again more assertively, "Well, are we?"
He rolled his eyes, opening his mouth and sucking in a breath in preparation for one of those snarky replies of his. He didn't get to make it as another blast emanated nearby, shaking the earth and filling the air with the scent of smoke. Wails and screams and a much smaller, much closer, explosion followed suit, the detonation knocking me to a stumble and him to the ground.
"Gah! Yes, alright? We are!" he sputtered, muttering curses as he got back onto his hooves, then openly swore at the sight of his spoiled breakfast. His serious, scowling gaze locked with my own. "Alright, enough breakfast. Come with me, and make no mistake: if we fail here, we're all dead. Now, come!"
He grabbed me by the mane and dragged me outside, where he promptly called for us to lower our heads as we skittered across the marred dirt road. Smoking craters were blown into various areas and into some tents, and also along the earthen palisade. The early morning sun's golden rays cast a light not unlike yesterday's afternoon, but it felt alien and corrupted as it filtered through black smoke. Shouting centurions and hurrying legionaries galloped all over the site in squares, marching off towards the gates. In their midst, a centuria of praetorians cantered in formation, moving at a brisk pace along with the crowd. Distant explosions coupled by a shaking earth made our movement uneven, causing us to stumble every so often as we hurried our pace. The general heat and chaos of the area made my head spin, and I was thankful for the visual focal point that was Postulma.
"Can you take a moment and just tell me what the fuck is going on?!" I shouted as a particularly rapid set of booms vibrated the earth. Gods, my ears were getting hammered! How did he seem so unfazed? I doubted any amount of time hearing explosions could get one used to it!
"Like I said!" he shouted back, gesturing me to hurry before breaking into a gallop. I followed him as he made for the marching square of praetorians, falling into the rear rank before shouting again in continuation, "Remember what Thanus said? That blood would be shed to finally end our plights? Well, this is it!" Despite everything going on, he managed to throw me a smirk. "Sorry if I can't say more, but you'll understand it all soon enough! Maybe later, after we crush the enemy!"
"Postulma!" a praetorian officer yelled from the front, his voice straining to be extra loud just to be heard over the marching and yelling of the other legionary centuriae. "Quit talking to that pony and follow pace! The legate wants us there quickly, but with air in our lungs! So save your breath!"
"Yes, sir!" With that, Postulma fell silent to my further inquiries, irking me terribly.
We reached the gates. The legionaries and their centurions hurried off down the road, but the praetorians marched to the side of the path. There Thanus was, riding a beast the likes of which I'd never seen before. It was a grey thing, born with thick and desiccated-looking hide. Muscular too, with stocky legs and a wide, robust body; perhaps large enough to hold three ponies on its back. Its tail was short and stubby, pointing upwards slightly towards the sky. Its head, thick in width and tipped with a series of three long horns on the end of its bony nose, wore what seemed like a scowl.
An interesting thing -- the first of wasteland wildlife that I ever saw! But my attention was quickly directed to the legate, whose scarlet-crested legate's galea (or helmet) made him stand out even from the mass of purple-plumed praetorians assembling before him. Smiling easily and handling the reigns of his mount, he looked to each of his assembled troops.
"Praetorians!" he announced, straightening his back to rise to his full height upon the beast. His voice grabbed the immediate focus of his soldiers. "A few months from now, I will be sending my colt off to school in the first restored academy in Roam. I will be tutoring him, singing him lullabies at night. A peaceful existence, unlike the war we know now. There is a future for me, and so there shall also be for you! Thus is the power of determination -- imagine where you will be months from now, and it shall be so. None can limit your worth or potential, only Death!"
"And Death won't take us, not today!" the praetorians roared in practiced unity, grinning and cheering amongst themselves.
The legate smiled. "And I can promise you that, for today," Thanus said, then turned his beast around and nodded up the slope leading to Marediolanon. What I saw astonished me: some of my people, trotting about nervously at the crest of the slope, looking panicked. Then they saw the legate and his assembled troops, and they stopped dead in their tracks, looking fearful. If it were me in their hooves, with no knowledge of the outside, I'd have felt the same crippling indecision and fear; as it was, I was anxious as to what Thanus was going to do with my home. With my people.
His hoof pointed to a trail of smoke I'd not earlier seen. It was emanating from the other side of the mountain. "Now, those savages out there -- those numerous tribes you've fought in Apollania -- have come to assault us. Look at the result! With their wildly-aimed cannons and untrained marksmanship, they have either accidentally or purposefully attacked the shelter of Marediolanon. According to schematics, the part of the shelter struck by the blasts was the engine room, from which all power of the settlement comes from," he declared, looking back to his troops. The image of our engine room, the place I'd once gotten lost in when I was a colt, leveled and caved in with mountainous rubble, brought a fresh wave of anger and loss to the fore of my mind.
"They have attacked innocents," he frowned, shaking his head. "They have antagonized a people they had no qualms with. In their efforts to retaliate against our righteous goals, they have disrupted the fragile stability won by the generous sacrifice of the pony who here now stands in our presence. Tell me, as champions of Roam, of order and civilization, will you stand for this?"
The praetorians roared in the negative, their defiant cries synchronizing perfectly with a set of distant explosions, a few of which landed shells dangerously close to the entrance of Marediolanon. The ponies and zebras assembled up the slope screamed and panicked, and some galloped out of view.
Thanus observed the occurrence, then turned back to his soldiers. "You all know the plan," he finally said when the shouts died down. "Stay with the Aquila, with the first cohort, and you shall not be harmed. The gods protect those who fight for them. Stay in formation! Break the line, and I cannot guarantee your survival. Wait for me patiently, and you shall soon find that the depth of their ranks will ring hollow. Now, on to the battle!"
He kicked into his mount's ribs, and the beast roared and turned before running off down the path leading off the mountain. The praetorians galloped after it in formation. From those crossroads in front of that gateway, I managed to get an unobstructed view of the plains below. I beheld a wide, thin arch of gleaming metal -- the first cohort of the 4th legion, I realized. They were assembled on the lower slopes of the mountain, with one segment of the arch covering the width of the road entrance below and five other segments arranged around it the first like a bow.
They were many, but not too many, I realized; they couldn't even have reached a thousand. And they were few compared to the looming, terrifying swarm of black moving hastily into view from the perimeter of the city, which was, I now realized, not more than a few miles from our own position. It rendered me breathless to see such a number of enemies, all swarming over to the mountain like an angered ant colony.
"Goldwreath!" Postulma managed to call, his voice almost drowned by the stomping of their hooves as they marched hastily down the road. "Stay with your people, and make sure they don't get killed! This could get rough!"
I heeded his words and galloped up hurriedly, my legs straining themselves against the force of gravity. Then I reached the small plateau up top, upon which a dozen or so Marediolanian zebras and ponies huddled together in clusters, keeping far away both from the entrance to Marediolanon and from the edge of the plateau, from which they could easily have seen the great masses of combatants poised opposite from one another. To my horror, I realized that smoke was now seeping out of Marediolanon, obscuring sight of the entrance hall entirely.
A fresh surge of panic welling up inside me, I galloped to the nearest of my fellows and asked in a hurry, "What's going on? Is there a fire, or has something exploded?"
The zebra mare coughed, shaking her head and blinking her reddened eyes rapidly. "No, nothing too bad. Those of us out here, we're outside 'cause the smoke from the engine room's filling up the halls, but those who were in their quarters following last night's curfew should be safe. But we couldn't get to our rooms -- the smoke, it's so dense. My eyes are burning..."
A zebra colt galloped up to her, handing out a water jug. "Here Mommy, drink." The colt winced as his mother let out a set of wheezing coughs, and he insisted, "Drink!"
I shook my head as I noticed that the others were similarly affected -- perhaps the old shells the Legion's enemies were using had been infused with some kind of gas? A poison? I shuddered at the thought, berating myself for not being able to do anything for them as they writhed and wheezed. I could only help distribute the water being handed about. It seemed to help, if only a little.
"Goldwreath!" a voice called out, sounding muffled and regulated, like Euvius from behind his gas mask. I tore my eyes away from the languishing Marediolanians and looked to the door. Even underneath his Marediolanon-issued red tunic, dark-grey lorica (body armor), and worst-case-scenario gas mask, I could recognize the pale yellow coat of Summer Sands anywhere. Despite the sporadic detonations blasting the mountainside and the hot, smoky air that started to wrap itself about all of us, I couldn't help but let off a genuine smile of relief and gladness as I cantered over, wary of the smoke.
"What's the situation, Summer?" I asked, hoof over my nose.
Breath erratic for a moment, he swallowed and glanced behind and around him at the swirling wisps and churning clouds of smoke, then gulped again. "Gah, n-nothing much. Just some smoke going through the main halls -- it'll clear soon after Engineering stymies that damaged engine." His eyes widened as he looked behind me at our suffering fellows, then around him at the environment. He swallowed once again, his gaze darting around in swelling panic. It occurred to me this must have been the first time he'd actually been outside.
And therefore, what a wonderful impression he must have gotten when one shell managed to land itself on the mountain peek, blasting rubble and rocks in all directions. Panicked screams cried out as boulders crashed onto the plateau, nearly crushing several ponies. Summer Sands and I barely managed to stumble out of the way of a small avalanche that brought with it the earth right above the doorway of Marediolanon.
Turning to lay on his back, my friend eyed the mound of dirt with a terrorized paranoia. "G-gods!" he stammered, shaking his head before looking to me. "Goldwreath, what's going on out here? Is it the End?"
"It very well could be," I answered grimly, helping him up. "Postulma... well, one of the legionaries told me that if their defense fails here, then we might all be wiped out. So I need your help, my friend. I need you to bring word of this ongoing battle to the others inside -- they are not to exit Marediolanon unless I have reported victory for the Legion. And in the case of defeat, I will return quickly to sound a hasty evacuation. Until either case becomes imminent, you and the others need to maintain our home. Alright? I'll watch the others out here, but the majority inside... they're in the hooves of the centuria urbanae. Understand?"
He trembled and breathed in deeply for a moment, eyes locked on my own. Then he shut them close and nodded, regaining his composure. "Yes. Yes, of course. I'll go tell them..." He got up and swayed a bit for just a moment before cantering into the smoke, glancing back my way one more time before disappearing into the fog. I sent a prayer to gods I didn't believe in, begging that things would turn out well, before I rounded and galloped over to the others.
They'd all left the near-peak plateau. There was only either the camp or the rest of the mountain for them to go to, and if I knew anything it's that the less adaptable civilians of my home would seek shelter in someplace similar, someplace resembling comfort or safety. I trusted they all had the sense to not scatter, because if they did...
I galloped down the weaving dirt road back to the camp. From my elevated position I spotted the source of the near-constant tremors I'd feared were the detonations of shells intended for us: artillery canons, lining a small ridge in front and beneath the earthen palisade protecting the praetorium. Goodness, did the legionaries set those things up just as the attack started? If so, they did it damn quick! Now the canons were blasting away at the innumerable attackers still raging towards the mountain like a wave, the pillar of flame ejected from each barrel burning in my vision even when I blinked. The enemy barrage seemed to have stopped, and now the swarming mass encroaching on the cohort below advanced under heavy bombardment.
But it wasn't enough. Whatever Thanus had done to incite such a breathtakingly violent and savage response had filled this enemy with a reckless disregard for their own safety. They were only a mile out now, and closing fast -- the huge columns of fire that erupted in their midst didn't make them hesitate, didn't dissuade them from their assault as the desert plains hundreds of meters below was littered with their dead. No, it only enraged them as a now-audible screaming filled the air, riding on the motorized whir and growl of dozens of vehicles driving ahead of the main mass of combatants. With every meter they drive on, it became clear that those vehicles' intent was to ram themselves straight into the cohort's centuries.
The spectacle about to occur beneath me had forced me to stop just to take it all in. In moments those mechanized fanatics would drive themselves straight into the legionaries. Then the mass of maybe several thousand angry and equally zealous combatants would slam right into the disorganized legionaries. The battle that would ensue would be terrible, bloody beyond my willingness to want to comprehend. And then if they got through the cohort and into my home...
Such death. And I was in the middle of it, in a sense the cause of it all -- the possibility that Thanus would have fought this battle anyway, even without my suggestion for a plan, was an idea I didn't care for. All I knew was that I was now watching what would be the greatest bloodshed I'd ever see, and my link to it was irrefutable. Come win or loose, I had a hoof in all this.
I shook myself out of my trance and continued downhill again. Leave the battle to the Legion; my goal was to gather my people and make sure they weren't hurt in this chaos. I reached the gateway and rushed into the camp. There were two Legion centurions here, holding back two centuries of troops in reserve and guarding the camp. To my great relief, it seemed the Marediolanians hadn't spread out and were allowing the Legionaries, however they may have felt about them, to lead them to safety and away from the edges of the earthen perimeter. They stumbled and staggered along, still not recovered from the effects of the smoke, but they would be fine.
Once they were safely gathered in what must have been the Legion's field hospital, I went in to hurriedly check on them. The medical zebras inside were putting them at ease, calming the foals and reassuring them that the explosions and the battle wouldn't harm them. Which was good for me, because I was not good with children. At least, not since the time I'd been made to lecture them for their history class' lesson on the Roaman military. They called me all kinds of names that generally meant 'boring teacher.'
An earth-rumbling cacophony of sharp detonations from the battle below rendered their efforts useless, though. The noise that blasted into our ears was like thousands of metal rods all snapping together. As the foals and the more shaken adults started crying and the surgeons tried to calm them, I rushed outside to where the two centurions stood against the dirt ramparts and watched the ongoing clash.
I galloped past their assembled legionaries and on towards them. "Officers! What's going on?" I stared at them in panic for a moment as they continued to look downhill, faces grim. Every single second they spent not responding filled me with an anxious dread, and I began to hyperventilate. For fuck's sake, I'd trained to handle the next holiday's inevitable drunken brawl, not to control the anxieties of combat! I was a guard, not a soldier!
Finally one of them turned to face me. Of all the centurions in the cohort, the one to respond was the one with half his face enclosed in bandages -- the very same one that had glared down on me yesterday morning. Even with the rage of battle blaring up at us from below, his disgust seemed pointed my way as he scowled.
"What do you think?" he spat, eyeing me with unmistakable loathing. "The enemy's smashed against our line. The chaos is ensuing -- our explosive javelins have been discharged, and the front-liners are holding the enemy at bay so that those behind them can pump lead into that dense pack of savages. The attackers have no tactics, no organization or battle formation. They charged across four miles of desert, waving guns and war clubs around like imbeciles. The few among them with the sense to call for artillery and mechanized support had their assets wiped out. Now it's a matter of the bloody melee and firepower of our small-arms fire against theirs."
I trotted carefully over to the edge of the rampart, wary that a stray bullet might end me. Then under the mixed gazes of the centurions and their troops, I peered out over the edge.
Gods in Tartarus, it was a horrific sight. Hundreds of bodies littered the vast expanse of distant desert, and not all of them were dead. Some, little writhing specks of black in the early morning light, were bordered with expanding outlines of red. Smoking metallic corpses burned all across the plain below. This close to their allies, the artillery dared not fire at the chaotic scene below. The multicolored, screaming, hectic mass of attackers below threw themselves against the significantly smaller Legion formation, pounding on the bow-shaped cohort with relentless violence. The ceaseless rat-tat-tat! of hundreds of rifles accompanied bright lances of fire streaking into both sides, downing legionary and attacker alike by scores.
The intense clanging and bashing emanating from the melee line testified to the ferocity of the fighting as the assault began to steadily push the cohort's formation into a straighter line. Then, being hammered at by superior weight from all sides, the cohort slowly backed up the slope. Despite casualties that were too monstrous for me to believe, the unadulterated hatred with which the assaulting swarm fought was just too much to hold out against for long. I almost didn't believe my eyes as I saw a handful of minotaurs swing massive axes at the puny legionaries, their gargantuan bodies so armored most bullets just clattered off their armor. Gaps were punched into the Legion line, and were it not for the compactness of the centuriae as the remaining legionaries funneled onto the road the enemy very well could have broken through and surrounded them.
Centurions bellowed for tactical retreat, and shrunken formations of legionaries pulled away from the battle and rushed back up the slope, some collapsing from shots to the rear. Over at the Legion's dwindling force, the flashing of muzzles gradually faded, signifying that both sides were beginning to run low on ammo. The assault's dead could have numbered in the thousands now, their corpses littering the slope with blood and death as the fighting slowly made it's way even further up. But their fury was so fierce that they'd managed to fight to get close enough for me to be able to make out the individual features of their combatants -- the wickedly spiked manes of the zebras and the swirling tattoos marking any flesh not covered by conglomerate metal and kevlar armor; the jagged spikes protruding from vicious hoof-worn boots; the elaborately-accessorized helmets worn by the more equipped of their members, especially the minotaurs in their midst. Their snarls and glares and the mad glints in their eyes made it evident that these were fanatics. They would fight to the death. This close to them, I was also made to suffer the full onset of their furious howling, and my ears began pounding again.
The spectacle unfolding before me gripped my heart in ice. I was dumbstruck; no, not dumbstruck. I knew what it was I was feeling. It wasn't the first genuine fear I'd experienced since the day before, but this was the greatest. Desperate for some reassurance that the enemy would be stopped, that all would not be lost and that my home would not be ravaged nor my people burned in a metal pit, I turned to the reserve centurions. "W-well? What's going to happen? My gods, we're all going to die if you don't do anything!"
"Orders are orders," the bandaged-face centurion replied coldly. "We're to stay as reserve. Unless the eagle-bearers and the praetorians call for aid, that is. Then we'll know that we're needed."
"You're needed now! The enemy is right there!" I pointed down the road, where the paltry force of legionaries were barely holding back the wave of hostiles. "And what's more, the people of Marediolanon need you. Your injured, retreating comrades need you. Those zebras fighting for their lives down there need you! You can't just stay here and... and watch!"
"Well, you're doing it," he snapped, glaring at me with his one eye. "And like hell can you tell me what I can or can't do. You're a guard, pony. You know nothing of being a soldier, of making the brutal decisions war deems necessary. If we tire our troops out now before the enemy's sufficiently whittled down, then we'll suffer the same fate as the poor sods with their faces in the dirt."
He glanced to the gateway, where the stream of surviving troops were stumbling in and collapsing against the ramparts and the palisade. Their number swelled up inside the camp, their groans and panting and cries of agony bearing down on me like a lead weight. It was too horrible to watch them in their state, with limbs sliced into and abdomens leaking blood like faucets. I barely managed to restrain my lurching stomach even when I clenched my eyes shut and conjured up the most out-of-place happy thoughts I could muster.
And still, the reserve centuries just stood where they were, paying their suffering comrades nothing but the quickest of pained and pitiful glances.
"Besides, we've not lost too many. Mostly just injured, this lot. They'll live," the centurion said gruffly. "Bunch of green recruits until now, most of them. They need get used to the prospect of constant suffering, and this will put enough trauma in their heads to force a change. And you..." He threw a disgusted look my way. "... you're actually just like them. Fearful, panicked. Too eager to do the first thing that comes to your mind. Well, here's lesson number one of war out in the wasteland: don't mind the suffering or the pain, or your life will be just that. Shed your queasiness and take a good, long look at a corpse. Then you'll know what awaits you if you keep being the incapable little shit you are right now."
I was hyperventilating again, my heart racing to support my systems as panic and tension welled up inside of me. I couldn't have responded even if I wanted to, not without losing the battle for my stomach as the smells of the carnage caught on the wind and made its way to my nostrils. I forced myself to straighten up and breath through my mouth just to be able to inhale air at all.
"Sixth century! To the front with us, now!" I heard someone bellow, the voice so strained and puny in the midst of the finally-quieting chaos. Last I'd heard him, he'd told Postulma to stop talking to me. "The Aquila is in danger!"
That seemed to cause quite a commotion as dozens of zebras behind me rushed to prepare themselves for the plunge. Checking of helmet straps, tightening of shield grips, magazine checks -- all final preparations done in a hurry. Then the other centurion who'd been so kind as to not cram his own belief on death down my throat shouted a marching order, and one of the reserve centuries was off.
Their ranks bolstered, the meagre three-hundred or so defenders managed to finally, truly stymie the advance. Fanatics or no, these attackers had crossed a desert plain miles long and fought a battle uphill. Add to that the injuries of having thousands of bullets shot into their midst, and it was a blessing to see all their fighting starting to take its toll. They were very numerous still, and reinforced by roaring minotaurs that swept their axes around like juggernauts. But tasked with protecting the eagle itself, the praetorians and the remaining legionaries fought hard and well, and didn't lose another foot of ground to the enemy. The minotaur axes smashed down on shields, sending legionaries flying down the Roaman ranks. But then they were simply replaced by the soldiers behind, presenting a fresh and new face each time a minotaur swung. Thus the roaring enemy's juggernauts grew tired, and one by one they were cut down by the deadly short swords of the legionaries. The few in the camp capable of doing so rushed the ramparts and cheered their fellows on.
Me, I wasn't quite so enthusiastic. Yes, the enemy was halted, but not defeated. Any moment reinforcements could have come, or maybe their artillery would come back anew. Perhaps the minotaurs would prove too strong for the praetorians and the legionary defenders would be routed back to the camp, where the injured where incapable of fighting as field surgeons tended to them. And if they got here, there would be little to stop them from killing the Marediolanians in the hospital tent, or breaking through the centuria urbanae in my home and slaughtering my people.
Then the unthinkable happened. A ripple of joy moved through the cheering legionaries, their cries of salvation growing louder by the second. I tore myself away from leaning against a nearby tent's leg and ambled anxiously, nauseously towards the rampart.
At first I didn't see what they were so joyous about. Given the circumstances of the stalemate, it seemed the battle could have gone on for another agonizingly uncertain hour before fortune would've favored either side. But then I noticed an evident panic in the attackers' faces as they glanced skittishly towards their rear ranks. Even the minotaurs were distracted. And then I noticed the growing noise of crunching bone emanating from the bottom of the mountain, the sound getting closer and closer each second. Then I heard a rapid set of of dull explosions. What could have been causing it, I didn't know...
Then a minotaur bellowed in agony as a hole was punched into his chest, going straight through the armor that had saved him from countless other bullets. A crippling terror ran through the enemy and their remaining fighters started running, fleeing in any direction at all wherein no legionary was bound to be. But they were cut down by the dozens as machine guns opened fire on them from below. The bodies of those who'd galloped to steeper slopes rolled down the mountainside like rag dolls, and at last the long line of Legion armored vehicles rolled to a stop where the slopes of the mountain were friendly with their engines. They continued firing, seemingly more willing to expend every last bullet than let a single enemy escape. The eagle-guards screamed for joy and began pursuing the enemy. Only the aquilifer himself stood where he was, panting, his vestments and armor all but torn to shreds.
Then from between two hulking tanks flanking the bloodied dirt road came Thanus, his beast and himself speckled with dust and gore. The legate rode up the slope and greeted the aquilifer openly, joyously. The legionaries who'd cheered their lungs out along the camp ramparts rushed out through the gates, all seeming to want to proclaim their legate's name like he was a god. A mere minute later the only ones in the camp were me, the few Marediolanians, and the many injured.
I watched him as he basked in the praise of his troops. The looks on all their faces made me wonder if they knew they were stepping on hundreds of different corpses, all carpeting the mountainside with blood, guts, bone, and metal. With the enemy force broken and under pursuit, no longer blocking view of the carnage, I could see just what had happened. I could see in perfect detail the means of death of around five-thousand people -- every cut, stab, bullet hole, decapitation, and mutilation. The smell of sulfur and phosphorus hung in the air, and the morning sun bathed everything in sight in a malicious, eldritch light. Then came the breeze, carrying the putrid scent of blood and exposed innards, of the sweat and grime and dirt that had been the byproduct of the battle.
It was too much. Too much death for me to witness in one day, and it was too much to take in in too few moments. I couldn't stop myself as my body fell to the side, the world fading away into black before I thudded to the ground, unconscious.
Entry #3 Organizer of Events... well, so Mother calls me. She said I did a wonderful job of putting together aunt Pudding Cup's party, even though I barely know my aunt. Could have gone better, really, but hey, at least I know I've got some skill with administration.
Unlocks special dialogue options with most faction characters. Speech -- 35+5/100
Chapter IV Impulse "The Road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, and I must follow, if I can, pursuing it with weary feet, until it joins some larger way where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say."
Ah, this juncture. Even now, my feelings for what happened that day are... mixed. On the one hoof, the Legion's victory ensured the safety of myself and my people. It also marked the success of what was, essentially, a collaboration between me and Thanus -- sure, Marediolanon's subsequent acceptance of the legionaries was not completely assured, but the blow to any skeptic's doubt of the Legion's ability was tremendous. The battle proved that the Legion wasn't messing around, and stood true to their goals.
But then, of course, there were the repercussions and the... the sheer cost of lives with which the battle had taken. I didn't know just yet what the Legion had done to warrant such an assault in the first place -- all I knew was that, since they were at war, they had many enemies, and that those who'd attacked must have formed the bulk of Apollania's resistance; I simply could not imagine more fighters remaining in the urban environment of the city. I could only speculate: Perhaps it served both the Legion's agenda, to defeat their enemies and win Marediolanian support? Whatever the case, the city couldn't have been able to fight much more, not with a blow like that. Not with thousands of fighters killed on the slopes of a mountain. What would happen, then? To the city? To the families of the fighters, if they yet lived? And what would happen to the region of Apollania as whole, of which Marediolanon was a part?
I was anxious, really. Very, very anxious. Uncertainty breeds fear, and I was uncertain of what would happen next. A force willing to engage in such brutal killing (but necessary killing, an insidious part of me thought) was one to be feared, no matter the force's allegiance. The Legion had my fate and that of my whole people in their hooves. I could only pray that my support and Marediolanon's hopefully subsequent acceptance would earn us the favor of legate Thanus, currently the most powerful person I knew.
It was strange. I was feeling all these anxieties and doubts within darkness -- and I remembered how I'd come into that void. I'd passed out. Yes, I did... the smell and the sights and the withdrawal of adrenaline left me on the ground, limp. But I wasn't supposed to be able to feel or think when unconscious. What was happening?
Well, you're knocked out is all I can say, a voice in the void said, gentle and with an enthusiasm that suggested it said all things with amusement. But you know that already, so why even say it, right? the voice chuckled.
I didn't say anything, not exactly. But I was aware of everything going on. I thought, and somehow the voice understood what I was thinking.
'What the fuck is going on?’ the voice said in impersonation of me. Why, you're passed out, of course! Having a lucid dream. Talking to voices. And, with time, you will talk to more... though some are different, more... erratic. Oh, and another thought? 'Voices? Who are you?' Ah! I am you! And the many to talk to you soon will also be you -- all different aspects of who you are. Hm? 'I'm confused as hell...?' Ah, I suppose. First time you've had a dream like this. First time I had a dream like this, too! For our sake, I'll make it so that you don't remember this dream at all. Not until later, at least. When? That's for... other factors to decide.
Until then, I shall be with you in your head! Do keep it intact; I like it in here. Ah, yes, what was that... oh, right. A message for you. Ahem! 'For when you get confused in your life to come, just follow your heart'. Heh, cliche advise, but you can't really go wrong that way, right? Just follow your feelings like an instruction manual. The purpose? Well... we actually don't know that yet. Like I said, it's for other factors to decide. Me, I say just follow it because I trust easily, just like you.
Oh, what's this? I feel myself fading away... ah, you're waking up. Good! It's time for you to peel those eyes open and step up. Look! Dawn is breaking in this void, and I shall return to the nerve tissue from which I came. Farewell! I shall speak to you again.
Now... what to do in this head? Gah, silly me, I can do anything! Perhaps I can look at all those memories he finds so embarrassing...
***Roama Victrix***
"... Goldwreath! C'mon on, dude. Wake up... wake up!"
I groaned, my eyes slowly opening to behold the silhouette of a pony, rimmed with light that pained me to look at. I blinked a few times, clearing my vision until the face of Summer Sands became visible, his features obscured in dark-grey shadow.
"There we go," he breathed, slumping his head a little and taking a deep breath of relief. Then he looked back at me, and gave my cheeks a little slap. "Come on. Get up off the dirt, dude. There's, uh..." He looked around for a second. "Well, there's lots of stuff going on. You with me?"
I blinked a few more times, the throbbing of my skull and the stiffness of my back receding slightly as I sat up, a hoof to my temples. The formerly-muted noise that suddenly bombarded my waking ears from all directions was like grenade in my head, sending waves of dull pain resonating through my skull. "What happened?" I muttered, wincing at the sting as I made contact with a lump on the side of my head. "I was standing up one moment, then the next... just black."
He grimaced, opening his mouth to speak, then deciding not to. He shrugged tiredly. "Well, you tell me. I was with a few of the others trying to fix the generator. Through the hole punched in the mountain we saw... shit, we saw all those hundreds and hundreds of... what, zebras? We saw lots of zebras, but they looked... wrong. Like monsters. Probably just what they were wearing, but... damn."
He looked around at the dirt for a moment, seemingly unable to continue. Then he glanced behind him at a blood-splattered crater; clearly, the assault's artillery had claimed some victims. The bleached yellow pony fought down a retch and sniffed. "Well, all I know is that we're still alive, and that's something. The Legion won, I guess. But I found you here like this. No one seemed to notice you much, 'cept for one of those purple-caped guys who passed by; he didn't seem to be able to help, though. Not while he was in formation like that. So I went over and... well." He shrugged again.
I sat for a few more moments, letting my aching head settle a bit. Then I made to stand, and Summer Sands helped me up. "Our people... are they okay? Some of them were out here..."
He nodded. "Yeah, all good. Most of 'em went back up the mountain first chance they got. Most, that is. A pony stayed behind to help out with the Legion’s wounded. Something about an oath to assist." He rolled his eyes. "Those medical types. Always helping, no matter what. Still... at least he's helping. I wouldn't wanna be in the place of one of these guys, bleeding out and having a limb hanging by a patch of skin... ugh..." He shuddered.
I furrowed my brows and smiled, rubbing my head. "Well, it's nice to hear we're helping each other out," I said in a dry, groggy tone. "I came out here to help broker a piece between our peoples. Glad to know I'm not the only one finally trying to build that bridge."
He pursed his lips in thought. "Yeah... I guess," he frowned, looking away. I looked at him with concern, and he waved a hoof dismissively. "Ah, later. Right now... well, I really don't know. Seeing all those wounded over there is making a part of me want to help somehow, but also makes another bit of me want to... well, throw up." He fought down another retch, and grimaced as a legionary screamed nearby. I dared a glance behind my friend and immediately regretted it; the soldier was having what was left of his leg cut off right there on the ground, the surgeon not slowing down his sawing as the other zebra screamed his lungs out. I managed to tear my eyes away before his whole flank was sown off, but my stomach rebelled either way.
We stood there in silence for a moment until the soldier was hauled off. Summer Sands gulped. "Like I said... yeah, makes me want to throw up. Poor bastard." He sighed and shook his head. "Well, I suppose I could just help you over somewhere to rest. Maybe back to Marediolanon? Some of us could sure use an explanation."
I weighed the options. With the threat over, and his plan a success, there was no doubt that Thanus -- wherever he was -- would soon reach for what he truly sought. That is, my people's cooperation. On the other hoof, attempting to explain things myself, with a lump jutting out of my skull, and having to deal with the inevitable deluge of questions would only compound the nervous energy sure to weigh down on me once I had all my people's attention. I didn't want to pass out again. Surely a word from me would calm many confused and panicking Marediolanians, but I just wasn't fit to bring word of what happened. I especially didn't want to risk saying anything that could jeopardize an already uncertain plan. After all, if our efforts failed then Thanus and I would both suffer the consequences. Me, the distrust of a people I only had the best intentions for; Thanus, the slow languishing of his forces.
"I... I think I need to rest first," I said honestly. "There's much to be done, yes, but I think we all need to slow down just a bit. The Legion's victorious, so..."
The Legion was victorious. The mere thought stopped me dead. My entire plan of brewing collaboration for the greater good of my people and of the legionaries depended entirely on the legitimacy and honesty of the Legion's goals. With this decisive victory, I wondered, would Thanus still need us? And if not, what would he make of us? Slaves? Conscripts? If Marediolanon as a whole remained obstinate, would he decide we weren't worth the pain of subduing and just kill us all and take the shelter by force?
Surely not. The legate had to be better than that -- the renewed Roaman government he spoke of had to be better than that. He seemed to be capable of mercy, perhaps even to the remnants of his enemies, if any still lived to receive it. Surely the region as a whole would soon benefit from the presence of the Legion. And surely, when the Roaman government reasserted itself, the empire could be reclaimed and made well again. In essence, what had just had happened was a step to the resurrection of Roam, which I could honestly say I was now willing to sacrifice so much to realize.
And yet I had my doubts. Some fickle part of me, perhaps the same part that had so easily convinced me to help the Legion in the first place, wondered if it was all just a ruse -- from Thanus' apparent good-willed sincerity, to Postulma's amiability. Perhaps I was just gullible and I'd just helped a really well-organized gang?
Surely... hopefully not.
"So...?" Summer Sands drawled, looking skeptical.
I shook my head and breathed for a moment. "So it means we're safe. For now. And in the quiet to come, I... I have a few things I need to tell you," I said, avoiding his questioning gaze. I couldn't take it, not the way I was feeling about things. His look was merely curious and concerned, yet it felt like his eyes were burning through me with a thousand different accusations.
"I will explain everything," I promised, knowing completely that once I told him everything, then the imagined disgust and hatred might well become reality. But I needed it off my chest. I needed someone I knew, and someone who knew me. Someone who could understand. I needed my best friend. "I've trusted you since we were foals... dude. We've confided in each other before, right? Because right now... I need to speak to someone I trust. And you have some questions of your own, don't you?"
He stared at me for a moment, and his gaze served only to make me more tense than I already was. I felt a tightness in my throat, a stiffness in my spine. I was paralyzed by his stare. And he just watched, until at last the cry of another legionary being painstakingly hoisted up onto a stretcher and rushed to the medical tent caught both our attentions. When he looked back to me, he was smiling crookedly, looking green and sickly.
"Yes, yes I do..." he swallowed. "Let's go, then. Anywhere but here's good," he chuckled mirthlessly, sickishly, then silenced. "Alright. As always, I get the sneak-peak of the exploits of Goldwreath. Yay..." he cheered falsely.
Despite his tone, I let off a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I felt my doubts and ill feelings truly recede at his response, like a poisonous tide falling back. It was unlike the talk Thanus had with me, which had only made me feel more conflicted afterwards. "Thank you," I said, utterly sincere. Then I smirked, "Indeed. The first to hear of my exploits once again."
"Just like when you broke into the museum a few years back," he muttered.
"And when I fell from the upper floors and landed on the olive tree a week after..." I found myself saying. "... by accident, of course."
"And when you almost killed one of the old praetor Aulius' guards."
"The time I got lost in the ventilation system..."
He snorted, smiling and shaking his head. "Shit, thinking back on it now... you got into a lot of trouble. How the hell are you still alive with all the crazy crap you go through?"
I shrugged, taking a few tentative steps around the rim of the camp towards less... bloody areas. From there, I could enter the camp and return to my tent without encountering any injured. It's not that I had anything against them, I was just... still getting accustomed to the sight of blood. Summer Sands seemed to pick up on my reasoning and appeared to wholeheartedly agree with the direction we were going. "I don't know. Fortune favors the bold? I was an ecstatic youth back then; cut me some slack."
"Ecstatic?" he asked, looking incredulous. "I was ecstatic. You were reserved. Hell, you're one of the quietest people I know. Admittedly, that also kind of makes you one of the smartest... but ecstatic? No, I'd say 'boneheaded' is really more like it."
"Well... whatever," I replied. Yes, in my youth I'd been quite an obstinate colt. Once I set my mind to something, it was going to be done, no matter the circumstances. I did things even wild party-goers like Summer Sands never would, so long as there was a purpose in doing it. Most people appreciated my determination, others were... annoyed at the lengths I went to accomplish even the most meager goals. I'll admit, the many accidents that befell me in my pursuits were proof of the legitimacy of their concerns. But in the end, I succeeded. That was all that mattered.
"I honestly just do things, you know that. I think them through, sure, but in the end it's getting it done that matters." I took a deep breath and winced again as a throb shot into the lump on my head, but I kept trotting. "Kind of the reason I did all this, actually," I said. "My goal was to just make sure our two peoples could get along. Few may believe the Legion, but I think they have some truth on their side. Besides, if they're really the successors of the Roaman government, it's our obligation as Roamans to help. But we refused, and there lies the cause of our troubles right now. How much smoother would things have gone if we just believed?"
The question seemed to bother him quite a bit as we entered the main body of the camp. He paid the surrounding area a distracted attention, as if diverting himself from a deep trouble. "I guess a lot smoother," he finally replied. Then he stopped, eyes on the ground, and I ceased trotting as well.
He looked me in the eye. "Look, I wanna feel that what you're doing is all just another one of your crazy plans that always seem to work. I really do. And I also wanna believe that you just left us for good reasons, reasons good enough you couldn't have said proper goodbyes in case we never saw you again."
There was a strain in his voice I'd not heard from him before. Sure, I'd seen him cry. Get mad, yes. Even admit his deep crush to the mare of his affections (which did not go well, and lead to the instance I saw him cry). But none of those situations had infused his tone with the level of doubt and pain I heard right then.
He fixed me with a burning glare. "Seeing you out here, collaborating with these guys... what the fuck?" he growled. "How long's it been? A little less than a day! A little less than a day, and what I see is pretty much my best friend working with the shits that nearly killed our centurion! That killed two of our decanii and one of those in our controbernium! The same people that busted down our door like they owned the place; the same people who made us seem like the most worthless guards to exist!"
I stared, wide-eyed. Well, it wasn't the worst he'd gotten angry. No, that spot was reserved for the time he got drunk one Saturnalia. But this was different in that his anger was directed at me, and because he'd stabbed right at the vulnerable part of my mind still feeling skittish about being a traitor.
I stood firm, trying to look more certain of myself than I felt as I replied, "I get that. You're mad, confused. So am I with myself. Believe me." It was an honest reply. I looked to the side; thank goodness we'd stopped right in front of the flaps of my tent. I turned my attention back to him. "But that's why we're going to talk, alright? We always do when we have these fights. This shouldn't be different."
I gestured at the tent. "We can talk in there. No holding back, no hiding feelings. I'll say everything I feel, and then you can go. Deal?"
He let off a breath, his anger and frustration seemingly reduced by my remembrance of our years-long tradition of always talking out our few arguments. For him, it must have been a very solid sign that I wasn't as blatantly fickle as I may have come off as. "Sounds... sounds good. Yeah, let's do that. Please."
I nodded, then sighed. It was going to be a long talk. Part of me was terrified, but another part knew I needed this, just as much as he did. I believed we both needed to figure out exactly on who's side I was on. The Legion's? My people's? Or, as I liked to believe, on my own side? After all, I was doing all these things out of my own intuition for good.
Well, I supposed I'd find out soon enough. Together, we entered the tent.
***Roama Victrix***
It was a bit of a mess. I didn't know exactly what to expect once we sat down, wine in our hooves, and started talking. Maybe it was just that, the wine, but once I'd finished pouring my heart out onto the table, holding no emotion or doubt back, all Summer Sands seemed capable of doing was nod and look at the table. For a long minute after I'd said all of my piece, he remained silent. Occasionally, he'd take a sip from his cup, but that was about the only other thing he did. And all the while I thought, Wonderful, I've gotten him drunk.
But he was a guard of the centuria urbanae, which meant even he had some sense of indulgence discipline. He wasn't drunk, just extremely thoughtful, as proven by when he finally looked back up to me with a sober gaze and small smile.
"Well, that's all a big relief," he said.
"What is?"
He set the cup back down, seeming hesitant to do so. "Well, for one thing, the fact that you would've had, like, a few more weeks before actually being whisked off, if that would actually have happened," he replied. "See, when I saw you raise your hoof and volunteer back there, I really thought that was the end of it. I'd never see you again. Shit, imagine my surprise when I saw you tending to those that rushed outside to avoid the smoke. There you were, still alive... still here." He shook his head. "Bro, I wanted to thump you upside the head and bear-hug you at the same time, did you know that?"
"Well..." I drawled. "It wouldn't have been something for you to worry about if you'd just listened. Their legate explicitly said he'd give me a few weeks before my placement was decided, remember?"
He froze, eyes wide. Then he slowly opened his mouth and groaned lowly, "Oh, fucking piece of..." He let off a huff and grunted irritatedly, then facehoofed. "Great job, Summer Sands. Hyped up over nothing. Wonderful..."
A chuckle escaped my throat. "Always inattentive. Some things never change," I muttered, then frowned. "But aside from that? What about everything else? You know I left, wanting to broker peace and to do something for the greater good -- get our people to really make use of their lives, not waste away in a shelter. You know what the Legion could accomplish with our help. You know everything I've felt and thought since yesterday morning, so you know my doubts. You know of the muttering in my head, warning me, making me feel cautious, paranoid, like a traitor... so tell me: am I?"
His lips bent into a frown that shattered my heart. He sighed and looked away, his reaction crushing the pieces of my will into dust. But then he looked me right in the eye with an understanding gaze. "Well... in a way, yes and no. Depends on what kind of traitor you felt you were. You definitely went over your original want of just paying our blood-debt so the Legion didn't have purely bad impressions of us. You say you helped these outsiders out with their plan to convince us to join them. That's why there was that huge-ass fight out there, right?"
I slumped. "Y-yes... I can't say for certain whether or not all that killing would have happened if I hadn't made my suggestion, but since I did make it... however I want to feel about what happened, I was involved. I could be the reason those people died today." I took in a shaky breath, finding myself blinking back tears. "I don't want to be a killer. Fuck that wastelandic truth Postulma told me about -- I don't want it. I'm a guard. I protect, I don’t... kill."
He nodded slowly, completely understanding how I felt. He wisely gave me a few moments to calm down, and in that short interval he finished his wine with one big gulp. "I get that. But hey, you said the Legion was attacking the city. Those people could've been killed anyways, just under different circumstances. And they would've taken lots of legionaries with them. I guess you could say you saved some lives by, well... by taking others."
I looked up at him, aghast. Before I could protest in anyway he said in a rush, "But hey, let's just say that Thanus guy would've done this anyway, alright? Let's just say you got caught up in the tide, and that it's not your fault. M'kay?"
I lowered my gaze, nodding. "Yeah, sure. I can do with that. I just got caught up in the tide." That of course was just half the truth. I wished it could have been the whole truth, but I didn't know Thanus well enough to decide if he would've done it all anyway. "So, that seems like the 'yes' part of me being a traitor," I said dourly. "What about the other part?"
The smile he put up was as friendly and certain as ever, and it almost felt like just seeing it would sew the broken pieces of my conscience together. "Now here's the part I actually wanna say," he grinned, edging closer. "Alright, bro, listen here and listen good: history's full of people that did all kinds of crazy shit for the greater good, you know? Yeah, they were branded as enemies and outcasts for it, but they were vindicated eventually. Those were the people who didn't get others to see their point 'till they were dead; what about those who were killed 'cause some backwards-thinking newt didn't want the good that would come?"
"You mean... like Caesar," I added.
"Yes, exactly!" he clopped his forehooves together in agreement. "Now, don't get a big head, you hear? But if what you've told me is true, then sure you went against your original goal, and maybe against the wants of some of the people you're making decisions for. But your heart's in the right place, and dude, to me that's all that matters. I ain't a philosophical type like you, but, er... well, if the roots are good, the tree can only be so too, right?"
I smiled. Summer Sands, whose grade in philosophy was more worthless than the dirt beneath his hooves, had just made an analogy I agreed with. "Alright. So traitor for a good cause, then?" I asked, hopeful that at last all my swirling doubts would be put to rest. 'Traitor for a good cause': It was a title I could be content with. Taken in its best manner, it meant that all I would do, I would do for the greater good. I could live with that. I loved my people, but Dad told me there was always something greater worth fighting for, no matter what I'd been championing initially. That's not to say I'd just lightly toss causes and inspirations aside in favor of something greater. No, I'd treasure each and every one. But in the end, the only thing that mattered was achieving this greater good.
"Well..." his voice faltered, his skittish gaze telling me all I needed to know. He sucked in a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess you are. You okay with that, dude? 'Cause you know, it still has 'traitor' in it, so... but hey, it doesn't change anything between us. You're still my best friend. That little tantrum I threw earlier was all because I was confused and frustrated. But knowing all this now... well, I can't say I agree with you on some bits of your 'wonderful plan', but I get it. The good far outweighs the bad when you look at the bigger picture."
"Exactly how I think of it," I said, smiling and resting against the chair. At last, my mind was truly at ease, with all my thoughts flushing out to leave me in a blissful placidity. There was only a single emotion left, and it was relief. I supposed what I finally came to be viewed as didn't bother me as much as the uncertainty of my social identity. Even if what I would be called had 'traitor' in it.
Summer Sands seemed curious as to my sudden change in demeanor, so I explained, "If I am to be viewed as an active idealist, then so be it. A singular consensus all who know me possess is a point of agreement, of peace. But if I am to be confused as anything else: a treacherous snake, a determined savior, or just a plain turncoat... then I'd leave confusion and quarrel in my wake, and those can only breed chaos. I do not want mayhem as my legacy, only peace. And if that peace can only be achieved through a singular thought of what I am, then I can endure however I am thought of. So long as there is peace."
He whistled, shaking his head. "Damn, dude. That's some pretty serious crap you're saying. Hell, you wouldn't be Goldwreath if you didn't say this kind of stuff from time to time, but ever thought that maybe you're over thinking or overreacting to... well, everything? You're saying all this as if the others have to know about what you did, or think you did. They don't. This can just stay between us."
"I know," I replied, sipping at my wine. In my eased mood, I finally managed to legitimately enjoy the taste and smell of the drink, unlike during our talk wherein I'd merely used the alcohol to gently calm my nerves. Then, I'd said everything with great emotion, at times having to hold back a shudder. My mind had been clouded, my feelings all so twisted and warped that it pained my heart just to speak.
But now it was different. I saw the whole situation with clarity of mind and heart, with no more doubts -- if something was to be done, it must be done effectively and efficiently. If so, then the future of Roam would need me at my best. If helping the Legion helped Roam, then I would do anything I could do with utmost devotion.
"Yes, I know they needn't find out," I repeated. "But if they ever need to, then I know what I'd have them think of me. A version of the truth that doesn't damn me so, yet isn't too sweet as to make me appear like a hero -- I can be made into whatever they wish, after they're told of what I truly believe I am. See, all this time I've been worrying about how you'd all look at me if you ever found out what I did, and why I did it. I wondered what I was to so quickly move on to a more ambitious version of an old goal. I knew it all as I did things, yet not even my reassurances of noble cause gave me true solace. But now, thanks to you and the clarity you've given me... I can be at peace with whatever may come."
He nodded, seeming skeptical. But then he sighed. "Alright, good to know."
He glanced around for a moment, then stretched and stifled a yawn. "Well, damn..." he drawled, putting into it a great sense of laziness that I knew meant he felt it was time for a change of topic. “One hell of a morning. What time is it now? Nine? To think, it was just two hours ago when I barely escaped with my life from a smoking metal room. If it hadn't been for the emergency safety equipment nearby..."
"Oh, you'd have lived. All you needed to so was keep low."
"It wouldn't have worked with smoke that thick," he replied, shaking his head. "I mean, it was everywhere. It was like I was walking through a pool of the stuff. And good gods, it stung! My eyes teared up in the first few seconds. Shit, I feel sorry for those who were in it for more than a minute. The smoke just felt different. Not like any regular fire -- hell, this one wouldn't have particulate. But for a while there I almost felt like something was bloating inside my lungs... like hundreds of tiny balloons."
A grim thought crossed my mind, and manifested itself as a question. "Do you think that maybe the artillery had something in it? Chemical weapons or... something?"
The suggestion brought a strike of terror to his features. "Well... if it did, I should be dead. As it is, I feel fine. Still... if there was..." He shuddered. "Okay. First thing to do when all this dies down: visit medical. If I'm to die, it'll not be 'cause if some damned smoke!"
"What about the others? I mean, you said those inside their quarters would be fine. But were other guards out? Your parents?" I paused, then asked slowly, "My parents?"
“Ah, should all be fine,” he said reassuringly. "It was just me and Excluvius on active duty in the lower levels. Theseus and Gravetanicus were in the main halls. Everyone else was on leave. Incluvius and some other guys decided to bed in medical; wanted to make sure Horus woke up in familiar company and all that. As for our parents, I know for certain they're well. They were in their rooms last I checked on them, so short of them deciding it'd be nice to sniff the swirling smoke right outside their doors, well..."
I nodded, and tried to reply and express concerns for a few others, but through the noise of activity beyond the tent came a particularly close clopping of hooves. A shadow darkened the tent’s cloth, and an armored hoof reached in and pulled the flaps apart.
Postulma poked his head in, his face concealed by a gas mask and various points of his body wrapped in bandages. Too many bandages, I felt. Take off the armor and he'd have looked like a mummy, save for the head. "Ah!" he said, then took a long, slow breath. "There you are. I've been wondering where you were."
I stood up as he entered. "I'm fine, and thanks for the concern. But you..."
"Bah, it's all good," he said with a dismissive wave. I rose an eyebrow and pointed to his mask and bandages. "What, these? All a precautionary measure. What can I say, where we come from, strength of the immune system isn't exactly propagated." He let off a tiny cough. "Really, one good cut and we could get so sick we'd burn up like a bonfire and spend our last hours in pain. I'm a lucky one. A few scrapes and bruises is all I got; popped a few antiseptics, cleaned the wounds with a little wine, and that's it. Others who suffered open wounds, well... not so lucky. Not so lucky at all. And neither are those who may have inhaled some... unhealthy particulate."
He coughed again, suddenly looking pale. "Though I might be one of that last bunch, actually... wonderful. Guess I'll need to visit the hospital a few more times this week, just to be sure."
Summer Sands chimed in, "Well, good luck with that, dude. At least I'm not the only one needing to visit the doctor some time soon. I take comfort in not being alone in things."
Postulma looked to him, eyebrows upraised. "Ah, you!" he wheezed, his amiable tone dampened by an unmistakably swollen throat. "I take it you're Goldwreath's friend? I saw you tending to him earlier. I was relieved to see someone taking notice of the poor lone pony passed out in an all-zebra camp." He rolled his eyes and muttered, shaking his head, "Honestly, you'd think the racial tension would die off in light of the bigger problems."
"Well, they all probably had those 'bigger problems' to tend to," I said. "And yes, he is my friend. My best friend, in fact. Me and this guy have gone through all kinds of crazy shit together, isn't that right?"
Summer Sands grinned and stood up. "Right as rain, Golden Colt." He stuck out a hoof in Postulma's direction. "Summer Sands, confidante slash partner-in-crime with this vehement troublemaker, and both of us guards of Marediolanon, our home, which I sincerely hope you guys don't take away from us. Please?" He gave a sheepish smile.
His final comment struck a chord in my heart, and I looked to Postulma expectantly. I trusted him to some degree, and so I would believe him if he would say that the Legion wouldn't do anything to harm Marediolanon. Nonetheless, my friend's remark reminded me of the image my fellow Marediolanians had of the Legion. An image I hoped to soon change, for the better, and for the greater good.
The praetorian caught my gaze, and he glanced to the ground and shifted uneasily before recomposing himself. He took Summer Sands' hoof up to the elbow and gave it a curt shake. "Postulma, praetorian of the 3rd Praetorian cohort, 6th century, assigned to legio IV Valere Victrix Equestrius, under the command of legate Thanus." He glanced my way and took in a deep breath before continuing with a snotty sniff, "And I do hope as well that my legate shan't do anything to strain relations; relations which your friend here has worked so hard to stabilize."
Summer Sands gave a hesitant nod and a faint smile. "Thanks. First assurance I got from you guys; I hope it proves true. I just want everything to go back to normal again," he sighed wistfully.
Postulma clicked his tongue but said nothing. The moment descended into a pregnant silence, broken when the zebra finally turned to me and spoke with a sickly rasp, "Well, I hope so too. But there's a reason I came here, Goldwreath, aside from just making sure you were okay. Legate Thanus is wrapping things up out there, running down stragglers with the 1st cohort's armored cavalry. Meanwhile, he's assigned you to collect reports from all centurions and field officers. Just ask them for 'the day's paperwork.'"
"What? He assigned me?" I asked incredulously. "Why?"
Postulma shrugged. "Eh, he has to make use of all available resources. Guess you’re one of them; now get to it. Whether he likes you or not, nobody gets in the way of Thanus and his work. He takes it very seriously." He fought a ragged cough and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from under his armor, then placed it in my hoof gently as if bidding me keep a precious token. "And here, my good clerk-on-duty, is the praetorians' field report. Full strength, no casualties, and thank Jupiter for that!"
I uneasily took a look at the paper. A list of eighty names were on it. For other such papers from those other centurions out there, it wouldn't reach that number. Hell, maybe the centurion himself wouldn't be alive to give it to me; nor maybe even the optio, each centurion's second-in-command. And the thought of having to approach such bloody, battle-mutilated zebras...
"I... do I have to?" I whined, admittedly quite foalishly. "I don't think I could stomach this... really."
He just stared at me, then shook his head pitifully. His gaze was tired and sickly, his posture weak and trembling. "You poor, poor g-green auxiliary," he said shakily, as if shivering. "C-can't stomach the sight of wounds and the noise of the wounded? Well, I can direct your th-thoughts to a little talk we had the night before..." He sighed, then panted a moment as he stood there with a slouch. "Look... just.... just make sure it gets done. Legate Thanus trusted you with this. B-best not to disappoint, eh?" He bowed his head, then painstakingly turned and left, muttering and hissing under his breath.
"Wow," Summer Sands said, looking at the paper in my hooves as I stared forward. "Collect what's essentially casualty reports from guys who lost brothers-in-arms, huh? That's... kinda grim. I mean, I don't like 'em one bit, but... shit, that must suck." He looked at me as I gazed off still, and nudged my shoulder. I stirred, and he smiled comfortingly. "Well hey, I can help with this. Might as well, seeing as blood's probably going to be a pretty common sight soon." He shuddered, but managed with a weaker, sicklier smile, "Best get used to it now, right?"
He was right. Both of them were. I'd embraced the outside's beauty openly the moment I saw it, but all flowers are dangerous. All beauties have terrible stories about them, and the wasteland was no different; it was marked and sustained by the blood and bodies of thousands, relentless violence, and toxic substances. I should have been grateful the people I was sent to weren't corpses yet. I should have been glad they still bled; at least it meant they were alive. But I couldn't be glad for any of it. If causes were to be won with blood out here, then it was only another sign that the world we lived in was far from ideal, far from normal. Nothing with blood and violence should ever be the standard of an existence. But if bleeding and fighting was what it took to correct that existence, then I would need to bask in it. Accept it. And for the greater good, I could do that.
I didn't like it one bit, but I could do it. Slowly but surely.
"You're right," I said with a deep breath. It was something I had to accept. I looked down at the paper again, at the eighty names. Caius, Maximus, Geta, Horatius... and seventy-six more, all alive. I imagined the other centuries, all the soldiers who may have been just like me -- zebras just going on with their normal lives, totting guns and wearing armor everyday, all the while never actually thinking they'd need them. I imagined how it would have been like for them to lose comrades in a fight, just like I had. I could assume there were many. In that regard, we weren't so different.
A resurgent energy swept through me. A stiffening resolve, a fiery passion that had me straighten my hooves and hold my head high. Yes, they were just like me. No matter our life stories, we were all just people thrust into a brutal, unnatural life. That was the point of consensus, the binding factor. We were all suffering. Some couldn't bear it. Others could, maybe. But if we all wallowed in our fear and pain, heedless of the greater scheme of things, then we were all doomed to spiral into darkness. Some people had to step up, despite the weight. Some people had to fight.
One of them had to be me. I took another deep breath and stepped towards the flaps. "Come on. Let's do our part."
***Roama Victrix***
Two hours later, our job was finally done. To say that it had been gut-wrenching and heartbreaking at the same time would be the most accurate description. If luck allowed, the centurion of a century would've already made the report and would simply be waiting for us to collect. In those cases the job was easy: take the paper, recount, and move on. There was no need to stay a moment longer than needed because there was little gore, little suffering to witness.
But such a case only occurred once. Everything else was bloody, grim, pitiful and tragic. Whole centuries of legionaries had been reduced to less than half their former count, the survivors themselves bleeding and crying on the dirt even as a brave few stepped up to take charge. The shell-shocked 'officers' couldn't have been older than me. In fact, they probably couldn't have gone through more than me. Most of them didn't even look experienced, only trained. In them, I saw a reflection of myself -- made to stand up by troubled circumstance. Made to shoulder a weight no one was willing to bear. And in their dead and dying comrades crowding around the cramped medical tents like an infestation, I also saw what I could have been. In the wounded's hollowed eyes and mutilated bodies, I saw what awaited everyone who lived such a life in such a place called a wasteland.
I dwelled on it as little as possible. There was acknowledging suffering, and then there was letting it fester in one's thoughts. Now Summer Sands and I were heading to the legion’s primus pilus' tent (the primus pilus being the most experienced of all a legion's centurions). He didn't say a word. I regretted bringing him along, actually. I'd always basked in his cheer and blithe disregard for all things serious before, when times were dark and gloomy. But it seemed that witnessing such agony had snuffed out his mirth. For the moment, at least.
Yet I couldn't stand it. I was the serious-minded one; it was who I was. I didn't want to let such things corrupt and darken anyone who wasn't meant for it. Especially when it was my best friend, who'd only come along to share the weight of it all.
"Well, when you think of the damage they inflicted on their enemies, the casualties and injured sustained by the Legion really are quite few," I said, putting into it as much pragmatic optimism as possible. "Now they are the supreme power in the area. If they prove true to who they say they are, then all will be good. The Roaman government can have a nice foothold here. It can only be beneficial for us."
"Guess so," he muttered, not projecting the lightened mood I'd so hoped would dawn on his face. "But it still doesn't feel right. Any of it. Merciful Pluto, I thought we had it tough with three dead. But that? Hundreds dead or dying. From a thousand to just a little over half that. Fuck..."
"Well... they died for a good cause," I replied, trying to keep sight of the silver-lining that made the situation even remotely bearable. Because I was sure that if I lost sight of what made it all worth it, then I'd spiral with the others down into pain and misery; my regrets and doubts and thoughts of treachery would return in earnest and plague me for the rest of my life. I had to keep a steady face, and keep my mind high. "And really, in the course of our time, all that matters is that our lives were spent pursuing something meaningful. An uneventful life is a dead one, you know this."
"I think you mean 'an uneventful life is a safe one'," he replied, sighing. "But yeah, safety's boring... though it does keep people alive."
We reached the tent, or at least what we'd been told was the tent. It was a tall thing, probably with two interior floors, just like my own. It was a dark military red, sporting dirty gold for a small exterior extension. The coarse cloth was speckled with dirt and dust, and darker spots of red that could only have been blood. The entire structure looked flimsy, with several wooden columns shattered and the splinters scattered underneath the cloth walls; the tent sagged dangerously to one side as a result. From within came a bustling noise, and from the tent's rooftop, a plume of black smoke.
"Looks like this place got hit by the barrage earlier," I said, eyeing the smoke warily and smelling an overpowering scent of burnt wood in the air. I exchanged looks with my earth pony friend, and his eyes shared the same question: We're supposed to go in there? Surely the last centurion we'd spoken to wouldn't just send us to a charred, blasted tent. Had he known it was hit? And if he had, what would make him think the most senior field officer in the legion would reside in it? Whatever the case, there was at least someone in there: the noise confirmed it.
"Well, let's head in. Maybe it's the zebra's assistant," I said as I trotted forward and tossed the flaps aside, then took a few tentative steps in. "Wow. This place is fucked up..." I muttered.
Fucked up and blasted all to hell, that was. With the interior cloth singed black and with cinders floating about the ash-thick floor and air, the tent truly looked like the scene of a terrible fire. Furniture and bits of wood were strewn about, crunching beneath my hooves as I slowly moved towards the center of the area. The smoke, I now saw, was coming from a lightly-burning sofa, and a soft wind funneling into the tent swept the black plume towards a flapping tear in the ceiling. Through that rip came a shaft of light that lanced through the dense particulate and gave illumination to the eerie interior. And the cause of it all was a smoking crater smack in the middle of the tent, the shell within having punched whole feet right into the ground.
A crouched zebra picking through the ash-layered rubble came to sight next. His back was turned to us, his helmet laid on its side next to him as he rummaged through the dirt, muttering and grumbling. Even as I watched, he pulled free a metal-rimmed frame from the dirt, gave it a quick wipe, and stacked it along with other items in a small box.
"So what's inside?" Summer Sands called, and I turned. As it turned out, he hadn't entered when I did. "The smoke looks pretty bad in there. Call it paranoia, but I'm not going anywhere near that shit if I can help it."
I sighed. "Fine. It isn't too bad, but just stay outside. I'll handle this." I looked back to the zebra and recoiled. Well, well, if it wasn't centurion Half-Face. "You," I said darkly. He narrowed his single eye bemusedly.
He stood up and looked right at me. "Yes, what about me? And don't sound so wrathful without good reason, pony. I could throw you out just for stepping inside my gods-damned tent."
I paused. "Wait. You're the primus pilus?"
He looked at me, unamused. "Yes, I am. That position goes to the most experienced centurion in a legion, after all, and by the gods I am the most experienced centurion in this legion. Have you even seen those kids out there? Most of them hadn't even fought until just a week back, at Roam. Hell, the pitiful excuses of officers they have at their heads were only made fucking officers because the rest of them were too damned scared to replace a void in the centurionate. Brave amateurs; what a joke."
Wow. He had a cynical attitude and a big ego. Great. "Right then," I muttered, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. I could just trot forward and hand him the reports, but the sudden revelation of who I was handing them over to made me uncomfortable. The guy sounded heartless, uncaring for the zebras whose names were on the papers tucked under my wings. He'd probably just toss the documents onto the burning couch and watch them turn to ashes.
But there were too many lives at stake to let anything stop it now. "Well, I've got the casualty reports from the troops outside, so..." I approached and placed the papers on the nearest serviceable looking piece of furniture. "They, uh... well, they're trying to get reorganized quickly. Some of them requested for transports to get their wounded... well, wherever you guys send your injured."
He let off a curt grunt and snatched the papers up. Then he sat on the dirt and started perusing the documents. With each report he flipped over his expression grew harder, eventually forming an outright scowl. "Gods above. How in Tartarus' name did legate Thanus put on a smile with his legion in this horrid state? A fucking disgrace!" he snarled. "Why, if it were me leading those damned lumps of meat, I'd have cut down those fucking savages while they were out in the open: I'd have smashed them from both sides with the fucking armored cavalry, blasting away and ramming like there was no tomorrow! Leave the formalities and formations for damned parades; this is war, for Mars' sake."
His string of profane and suggestively-mutinous comments made me raise my eyebrows. "Are you saying the legion should have you as its legate instead?" I asked carefully. Sure, in war, ruthless strategists like him won the battle with favorable numbers. But outside of the fight, how would leaders like him fare? Disliked, or maybe even outright hated by his troops? Thanus may have had more grandiose ways of doing things, maybe costing more lives, but at least he seemed to be respected by his legionaries. Surely that was better... right?
He paused, a low hum of thought emanating from his throat. "Bah. It all depends on the kind of legate these louts want. Thanus is a person of spectacle, of show -- prestige, reputation, promotion, that kind of thing. You know, the desires of patricians." He drawled out the last word with disgust. "If that's the type of leader this legion wants, then fine. They can have it. But in the end I think each person's heart is for their home; with their family, their friends. This bunch ain't getting back to where their hearts want if they're dead. And no offense to Thanus, but I think I could get these colts back home alive if he'd gave me the reigns whenever a fight starts instead of devising the 'most intimidating' formation." He snorted contemptuously.
Oh. Alright then! Maybe he did care for his subordinates. But he still seemed like a sour old zebra to me. "Can you do anything about it? If you think Thanus' strategies aren't the most effective, then maybe you could-..."
"There's nothing to be done about it," he interjected, standing up and stacking the papers away in a nearby drawer. "Thanus is the legate. He owns command here. I may be an officer, but I'm still just a soldier like the rest of them. I'm better than they are, sure, but at the end of the day I still just take orders."
He sighed and leaned against the table, looking down at the wood with his one good eye. "We all face death. But we all want to live, and fuck anyone who says otherwise. We soldiers, we need to have complete faith. We have to trust that whatever fuck-up Thanus makes will be equalized by some promotion or reward that'll benefit this legion and the people that fight in it. I -- no -- we have to believe that our sacrifices will be vindicated. It's our light in this darkness, and if we lose hope in that, well... we might as well toss ourselves off a cliff."
His eye looked at me sharply, lingering on me for a moment. "So get it now? Think of me what you will, but know that everything I do and want to do is for the good of the Legion. Whether it's holding my own tongue back so others don't take me as an example and somehow wind up in trouble, or withholding my troops from the fight so they don't think we're desperate and start to lose heart. All of it for the greater good of the Legion."
I nodded and met his gaze, my opinion of the zebra morphing in my mind as the seconds ticked by. To think, earlier he'd just seemed like a heartless officer, pragmatic to the point of ruthlessness. Now though I realized his intense attitude was born out of a fiery desire to just save people. I'd seen what most of the legionaries outside were: barely more than raw recruits. I knew it because I was just like them. So I couldn't deny the significance of the essence of his argument, even if the things his beliefs made him do seemed outright heartless.
Just like when I'd tried to convince him to fight earlier. He'd rejected my demands for the good of his troops. If it were my people to be put at risk, I'd have done the same. In a way, he was also like me. He did what needed to be done, even if it wasn't something to be liked. I couldn't resent him for using his freedom to fight for his own cause, even if it placed my own aspirations at risk. No, to create conflict against other well-meaning individuals just pursuing the betterment of something else defeated the purpose of pursuing the Greater Good, for it was achieved when all things were made right through the patience and collaborative efforts of all who pursued it; not through the singular triumph of one above all.
"I understand," I said. Then, with a voice that just slipped out of me with no conscious will, like it was a natural instinct, I added, "I understand very well, believe me."
His gaze softened ever so slightly. "Good... good, good," he nodded as he withdrew from the table and looked to the ground, licking his lips. "Well, I'll go tell the meat outside what they'll be getting for all their requests of aid, I suppose. Excuse me."
I stepped aside as he made his way for the flaps, but we both stopped dead when a voice called out, "Centurion Perilax! Your victorious legate has arrived, and is seeking the state of his legion."
The voice, despite the use of third-person, was that of Thanus. When the centurion didn't move for the greater half of a half-minute, there was a stomp of armored hooves outside, followed by a primal snort. Then the crested helmet of the legate himself poked in through the flaps, followed by the smiling face of Thanus. Beyond the flaps I saw the legate's mount staring about with beastly obliviousness, and Summer Sands as stiff as a statue nearby as the grey creature sniffed him.
"Well, centurion? Don't keep me waiting. The lives of many dozens of injured are at stake!" he said with a gentle laugh, then trotted over and amiably patted the other zebra on the shoulder. The touch seemed to freeze Perilax where he stood. "Come. I must see the reports before I can organize a means to deal with the casualties and crippled."
The officer I now knew by name as Perilax swallowed, then with a curt nod and a strained courtesy he smiled. "Of course, sir. Just let me go get them."
A minute later Thanus finished looking over the casualty reports, all the while showing no sign of horror at the number of dead and dying. He set them down again and frowned a seemingly forced frown. "A terrible creature, Death," he said, shaking his head. "It's like a predator, but in this world of ours it's the strong of resolve that die, not the weak. Those brave enough to step up, thus earning a spot on the early list of the death god Pluto, die. The legionaries on these documents lost their lives for their cause, and I can only hope that they now travel to Elysium."
"That would be a great vindication for their sacrifice," Perilax said, eyeing Thanus with his eye. I sensed a great deal of restrained contempt in his tone. "But perhaps the remaining soldiers of this legion needn't go to the afterlife yet." With a hard, straight-forward tone he explained, "You'll need to keep this legion alive, sir, if we're to secure Apollania and the remaining regions of the desert. Roam needs her metals, and she can't have them if the legionaries meant to deliver are dead. We can't sustain another beating like that. Next time, we must put strategy ahead of spectacle. I have said this many times over. Sir."
Thanus slowly narrowed his gaze. “Believe me, I know. But such sacrifices are necessary to ensure the cooperation of the people, Perilax. You would do well to remember that it is also this legion's goal to stabilize the community demographic of the region. With Roaman blood, I will achieve both our ends, and I will achieve them in a manner that ensures we are recognized by the Senate when they come to the surface. With Roaman blood, I will carve out this legion's place in history."
Perilax's expression twitched as he gulped and put on a forced smile. It seemed foreign and strange to a face that, for as long as I had seen, had born nothing but grimaces and frowns. "That's quite an ambition, sir," he said tensely, as though his throat were tight.
"An ambition!" Thanus piped, then grinned. "Yes, indeed. There is nothing, I like to think, that is more worthy of a person's efforts than his ambitions. Ambition drives the world, Perilax! Barring nature, it is the most powerful force on the planet." His grin turned smug and confident as he slowly approached the other officer. "And you would do well to remember that."
I stared at them both as they stood there, Thanus looking his subordinate in the eye with assured pride. The whole tent felt like a heating oven every second they locked gazes as sweat beaded down my face and chest. Then finally Thanus let out a quick chuckle. "I'm glad we understand each other! When you feel inclined to, please do go out and pass on the order to divert half of the armored division to transport the infirmed back to Roam tomorrow morning. I have business to conclude with our pony friend here," he looked at me again and asked, "If he is available?"
I held my tongue back for a moment as both zebras looked to me intently. "I am," I answered, causing Perilax's gaze to narrow dangerously.
"Good! Now, do meet me outside as soon as you are able. I will be waiting for you outside Marediolanon," Thanus said, then turned and casted us both one more gaze before he tossed the flaps aside and exited.
The temperature in the tent cooled, and Perilax let off a low, menacing growl. He leaned against a nearby wooden column and calmed himself with a sigh. "You trust him?" he asked calmly, more so than I would've expected.
"Well, I wouldn't call it trust, but perhaps an... obligated faith," I answered.
"So you trust him," he snorted, shaking his head. Then he looked to me. "Okay. You must have seen that I don't like Thanus. I honestly don't, and fuck whatever niceties I said to skirt around my disdain. That legate sees us all as denarii made of flesh and blood, and he's more than willing to spend us on the commodities by which he means to succeed -- commodities like this desert's metal, the region's stability... and your people's trust." His gaze tensed. "Maybe it was for a noble cause, but you got your hooves dirty working with him, pony."
"Maybe," I replied, trying to keep calm. He rose an eyebrow, surprised I didn't deny it. Well the truth was the truth, after all. "Yes, perhaps. But it had to be done. I’m trusting him so that my people may be brought to light, so that they may experience a life unwasted. I am trusting him because if I don't get Marediolanon to cooperate, then more lives will be lost due to Marediolanian ignorance. If Roam needs a place for her soldiers to resupply, rest, and be safe, then it is Marediolanon's duty as a construct of the Roaman government to give of itself. It's how it works."
He let off a mocking, incredulous snicker, and I approached. Firmly, I said, "I'm doing all this for the greater good of my people and Roam. Nothing else. If going along with Thanus' plans and stratagems gets me those, then I'll go along with them."
He shook his head and let off a tiny, grimly-mocking snicker. "Sounds like another ambition to me." He looked to me with a softer, concerned look. "Look, kid, Thanus says ambitions run the world. Maybe he's right. But playing that kind of game with all the noble causes and shit just brings you to a whole new level of things. Me, I just keep what I want simple, and do good in trying to achieve them. Because all of that... fuck it, we're just people. We're not gods, quarreling over the heavens and the earth. We’re just people, and at the end of the day we should be content just to have eaten, slept, and talked with friends and family. The simple things make life worth living.
"People like Thanus don't get that. Everything must be under their control, from the thoughts of others to the patterns of nature. If they could do it, people like him would blot out the sun with monuments the size of mountains if it meant the world would kneel. See, people like that, pony Goldwreath, were Roam's death. And people like that will continue to stir the mixing bowl of chaos so long as there's still something in the batter for them."
I stood firm and stuck with my point. "It’s all for the greater good."
He managed another jeering snicker. "Fine. Say that. But causes get as twisted as vines out here. If we're both still alive in the future, I'd like to see for myself what it is you'd still be fighting for. You're stepping up to a dangerous stage, boy. I warned you."
I shook my head and turned, making for the flaps. Our exchange didn't dampen my resolve to see things through; no, it'd only fanned the flames of my conviction. What kind of person Thanus was was no longer a concern of mine: all that mattered was that he stood true to his word. Maybe Perilax was right and Thanus was as dangerous as said. Maybe he was right, and Thanus would do whatever it took to achieve his ends... and all the while he would use the blood of his soldiers to buy his way there.
I pitied Perilax for the problem he had to face, but it wasn't mine. I had to focus on my own goal or be swept into things I wasn't prepared for. The fates of the legionaries all depended on how Thanus and Perilax would resolve their conflict, not on me. I had my own problem to tend to.
I tossed the flaps aside and stepped outside, relishing in the cooler air and taking a deep breath. Summer Sands was sitting on a nearby rock, but at my emergence stood up with a relieved smile that I reflected.
"So, all good?" he asked. "You were in there for a while. And when that Thanus guy came over and entered... hell, I thought shit was about to go down."
I nodded, nudging him along back to the main body of the camp. "Just a little debate is all. Nothing too much. Right now I need to meet Thanus outside of Marediolanon."
"Oh... okay. What'll happen?"
"I don't know. I'm guessing he'll want to see the effect the recent event has on our people. Given how much he has invested in us -- and how much sacrifice has been made on our account -- it's only logical."
We trotted along, this time passing right into the middle of the camp. Just three hours after the battle, it didn't come as a surprise that the rush of medics and the clamor of wounded hadn't died down. But I didn't mind this time. My problem or not, these people deserved my sympathy. And like I'd been told, I needed to get used to it. I didn't retch or recoil at the sights and scents, nor did I balk at the agonized noise. It was a start.
"I'm a bit concerned," Summer Sands said, "As to how things'll settle down after all this. Hell, I still wonder how I'm supposed to step back into Marediolanon and live with people saying 'he's been outside' and other bullshit behind my back. I kind of think it was a mistake going out here... I mean, you'd have been fine on your own, right?"
"Physically," I answered, then nearly stumbled over a bloody, severed zebra leg. I stared down at it in frozen horror as the soldier it belonged to lay nearby, covered by a red cloth. My eyes looked down the aisle of mourning legionaries as they draped more corpses in the same cloth, and the long line of dead reached all the way to the end of the camp. It took all my force of will to tear my sight away and force my legs to continue. "O-okay... maybe not even physically." I fought a retch. "Look, it was a blessing you came out here, even if it was just to make sure I was okay. But the real aid you gave was stabilizing what I thought of myself. A person's state of mind is everything -- from the way he perceives the world to the way it reacts to him. You helped make sure my head was in the right."
"Sure, sure... sure." He frowned. "Right state of mind. Heh, funny... well, as for me, I think I'd like to step away from guard duty for a while. I, uh, need to rethink the job I've taken up. And also what it may make me do some day."
The moment he said that, I knew he was affected. He just wasn't the type of person that was meant to bear such things. His natural mirth and nonchalance didn't fit with brutality, but I knew I could handle it, given time. It was a matter of regulating my thoughts. I'd practiced the skill long enough to have mastered it, and though I didn't like his brewing idea of laying back from the centuria urbanae, I couldn't deny that, for himself, it was the right choice. It was best to leave such things to those who could handle it.
I was a fool, of course. What I'd thought was a state of mind ideal to accepting the harshness of the wasteland was actually more like a bit of the wasteland itself. I'd been affected more than Summer Sands had. He still had the sense to back away, and I didn't. My instincts were clouded by my desires, and by the time I realized I should have backed off, it was too late.
There are just some things you come to hate yourself for, no matter the reason they were done. And if I had just seen it, then perhaps things would be different. Maybe he would still be alive.
***Roama Victrix***
"It's a fine door you had," Thanus remarked as we crested the slope at last. He looked over his shoulder at us as we approached, and he smiled bitterly. "Quite a shame it had to be harpooned down. But the doors of Roaman Stables were engineered to be utterly unopenable, at least from the outside. From the inside, a simple code and... click," he clopped his forehooves together, then crossed them across his chest as he watched the shadow-shrouded entrance hall. "If our two peoples had only known of each other... so much could have been avoided."
It was a topic I'd had enough of, so I decided to change it. "You called me up here, sir?"
He gave me an amused look. "Again with the 'sirs'. Well, at least you're starting to gain a respect for higher authority. But please, let's keep the formalities aside."
With the easy smile that unnerved Perilax, he looked back to the void chasm of the entrance hall. Or perhaps not void at all -- with the smoke clear, it seemed that a small motley crowd of various ponies, zebras, and Marediolanian guards were coming up from the depths of our shelter, driven to the uppermost level by either curiosity or fear. Even as I watched, the disorganized cluster of Marediolanians stopped where the metal of our home met the dirt of the wasteland. On that line of metal and sand they writhed for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed.
From that assorted bunch came the masked-and-bandaged form of Postulma, accompanied by two other praetorians almost equally medicated. Pushing their way out of the crowd with many apologies, they made their way over to Thanus and rendered the Roaman salute -- straight spine, with the right forehoof thrust straight into the air at forty-five degrees.
"Legatus, sir!" Postulma declared. "Your orders are complied with, and the..." His formality died away, not from the disapproving look Thanus seemed to give when addressed formally, but out of a confusion of how to proceed. He glanced behind him at the curious crowd, then looked back to the legate. "Well, some of the people of Marediolanon are here. Not a majority, seeing as most are still too scared to come out of their rooms. But it's all that we've been able to gather, what with all the things that have been happening since the battle ended."
'Still too scared to come out of their rooms'. At those words, I scanned the faces of the crowd, seeking out my parents. Summer Sands seemed to do the same. Alas, not one of our fathers or mothers were present, to our disappointment.
"If this is all you could gather, then it will do," Thanus replied, then gave a curt bow to his praetorians, who then promptly stood to attention on his side. The legate drew a deep breath and trotted over with deliberate, perhaps nervous, slowness towards my people. This was it, I thought. Now was the time to see if our efforts would pay off. Thanus knew it and I knew it. Even Summer Sands did. The success of our collaboration and the attainment of our goals depended now on how my people reacted. The gravity of the situation pulled my heart down into my stomach, and as Thanus spoke my ears perked up and strained themselves to hear everything.
"I suppose that you all must be wondering why I've called for an assembly," Thanus said, his tone heavy with hesitation and lacking the confidence he'd always spoken with. I couldn't tell if it was a genuine or a fake anxiety he was conveying. "Well, the answer is quite simple. Marediolanon is under my care now, and when I saw those explosions tear away into the mountain, my first thoughts were of your well being. Did... did anyone die?"
There was a short clamor as the people talked amongst themselves, sharing thoughts and perceived facts. Eventually, they came to the conclusion that none had been killed, and said as much in a cacophony of murmurs and headshakes. I let out a deep breath. Thank goodness for small favors when they came.
"Ah, good! Good, good..." Thanus smiled, letting relief show on his face as he idly kicked a hoof across the dirt. Then he glanced up at the assembled crowd, who were eyeing him intently. His expression turned solemn, and he slowly took off his crested helmet. The moment turned into a quiet that was broken only by murmurs as the crowd and the legate stood opposite from one another. Thanus ruffled his short mane, biting his lower lip as he looked about as if wondering how to proceed.
It seemed almost downright hopeless for the assembly to move in any useful direction. Imagine all our surprise, then, when it was a zebra filly who broke the tense silence. "Mister Outsider-zebra? Is something wrong?"
She was on the front-line of the crowd, and the only one who dared step on the dirt without hesitation. We all stared, wide-eyed, as she approached the older legate. Her face full of concern, her lips in a pout, she asked again, "Is something wrong?"
Thanus took a whole moment to recompose himself, his expression full of utter bafflement. "Oh, y-you mean right now? As in, here? Well... er..." He paused, and with a gloomy look he sat on the ground. "Yes, I... I suppose there are many things wrong."
"Zeena, get back here!" a zebra mare called, face paranoid. "Don't step on that soil without boots! You'll get sick!"
The filly gave the ground a skeptical look, then shook her head and looked back to the mare. "It's just soil, Momma. Getting sick from it is silly." She turned back to Thanus. "It is, right? The ground can't actually make me sick."
"This ground won't," Thanus said softly, ears drooped. "But other ground will. See, this outside, it's... very wrong, in many ways. Me and my soldiers, we want to make it right. But that's hard when we have so many enemies and so few friends."
"Just like school," Zeena sighed. Her mother was starting to get frantic, causing a commotion around her as she trotted in tiny circles, repeatedly calling her filly away from the 'poisonous dirt'. The guards she implored to bring her foal back were likewise hesitant to step forth.
Thanus let off a tiny snicker. "Well, kind of." He moved over by the filly's side and gently patted her on the head, casting Zeena's mother worried looks. "Go on. Back to your parents; this is a talk for adults."
Zeena shook her head. "No it's not!" she protested, making Thanus raise his brows in surprise. "We're all just one big family, you know. What happens to Momma is going to affect me. I wanna know what'll happen, cause if I don't, something bad will happen. Isn't that why we're having this fight? Because we didn't know about you?"
"I... yes. That's exactly why," Thanus answered. "But we can't do anything about it now. Your parents and your friends didn't know, and that's that. I wish they did... it could have saved us all trouble. But all that can be done now is try to make peace."
Zeena looked right at me and Summer Sands. "Isn't that what they're trying to do?" she asked as she pointed at us. "They want us all to be friends, right?"
Many eyes turned to us in an instant. We both shifted uneasily, trying to hide our faces. The weight of the situation suddenly felt very small compared to the huge amount of attention I was getting. Yet, I managed to reply, albeit in a tiny voice, "Yes, we do. Nothing good comes out of being enemies." Especially when the possible enemy was the resurgent Roaman government itself, I wanted to add.
"That's right," Postulma chimed in, breaking off from the position-of-attention to step forward and address the crowd in place of his legate. Taking back-and-forth strides in front of my fellows, he declared with many wheezes, "I know that the situation is far from ideal, and it definitely wasn't on any of your 'soon-to-happen' lists. Hell, if it were me in your place, I think I'd have barricaded myself in 'till I got the green light that all was normal again." He let out a little chuckle, then fell silent.
"But you know... your people and ours, we could put yesterday behind us. The deaths will be recognized, but is it really right to dwell on it? Surely we shouldn't forsake the future for the events of the past, and surely you see reason." He glanced behind him and pointed a hoof at some of the many plumes of smoke that had spawned in the wake of the battle. "See that? That’s what’s left after we were attacked this morning by... well, lots of things. Fellow zebras. Some ponies. Even some minotaurs."
"I heard about that!" someone yelled, from the back of the crowd. "Why in the name of the gods did they attack? Were they trying to get to you? Would we have been attacked too just because you were near!?" There was a chorus of agreeing murmurs, and the result was a suddenly very-pissed looking crowd.
"That's not the point," Postulma said, shaking his head. "Don't you get it? Your shelter is a bastion in a sea of chaos; the city in the distance there is crawling with barbarians, and the desert all around you is populated with mutated wildlife. We are not the only ones with knowledge of the past, and the locations of the Stables. Eventually, a tribe would have come for this place, and they would not have cared for the lot of you. They would have taken everything you had! Your home, your resources, your comforts, your bodies! You would have been killed, or worse, you would have become slaves, thrown at the mercy of those with none."
He continued, "And don't say it wouldn't have happened. Oh, yes, it would have. The dignitary we sent to negotiate with the tribes occupying Apollania confirmed it." He looked behind himself for a moment, at the other guards. They both gave a tiny nod, and Postulma faced the crowd once more. "If it weren't for that dignitary's timely confirmation just the day before yesterday, we would not have been prepared to act in our own defense, much less yours. Can you imagine what would have happened if we weren't here? Many hundreds of experienced combatants would have been upon you, and not one of your eighty guards could have saved you!"
"Postulma, that's enough!" Thanus growled as he stood up, eyes glaring intensely. The praetorian immediately bit his lip and shut his eyes, looking scolded as he quickly stepped aside. Thanus stepped forward and faced the scandalized crowd. "Forgive my subordinate, if you could. He is younger than I, and lacks a fair bit of the restraint to be expected of his class..." The legate shot a sharp look where Postulma stood, head bowed, in between the other two praetorians.
"Oh, he will be disciplined, believe me. Yet his words held truth. Indeed, the twelve tribes of Apollania were planning to migrate out of the city. It had no more means of sustenance for their people, you see. Their leaders planned to use your home as a kind of jumping point; a last oasis. They would have broken in, and they would have killed you all. That is the truth of it. And another truth is that, were we not here to stop them, their plan would have succeeded."
I stood frozen, like many others. Was all that true? Or was it just a carefully constructed lie? I couldn't tell. Surely, if the Legion lost the earlier battle, there would be nothing to stop the tribes from seeing my home as an easy target, and one full of resources and wealth, no less. But to realize that an entire city may have been planning to use my home for their own ends... at least the Legion had some restraint! They were willing to compromise, to get Marediolanon to cooperate under reasonable conditions. But savages like those would have taken and given nothing back: the very definition of unfairness.
The realization and contrast between the two factions ignited a fire within me. Now, more than ever, I saw past the possible guile of the likes of Thanus and observed only the benefits of their presence. I stepped forward as the crowd began bickering. "It is true," I said aloud, and all attention quickly focused on me. Zeena the filly seemed glad to have another person advocating becoming friends, and with that contentment in her eyes she sat down in front of me, looking up expectantly.
Though the sudden anxiety of the crowd’s attention bore down on me like a boulder, I took heart once more in the reassurance that all I did was for the greater good of my people. "My fellow Marediolanians," I started, taking a deep quaking breath. "Our lives now face a... a crossroads. In the generations we have spent idling inside our home, the outside has deteriorated to the point of savagery. I have witnessed the... the brutality and barbarity of it with my own eyes. I may look filthy to you, with my body marked with dirt. Yet I am clean compared to the many hundreds of legionaries who just this morning fought to protect not only themselves, but also you.
"I have thought much since yesterday. I have weighed the scales in my head, wondering whether to truly, truly believe in these people." I looked to Thanus, who stood watching me as intently as the crowd was. "I must admit, I have doubts. We all do, I think. Who would openly believe, with no hesitation, when all life is fragile in the face of what may come? But I have seen past my doubts, and have witnessed the necessity of cooperation. And just as said, that smoke out there comes from the smoldering remains of many vehicle and zebra carcasses. Had they not been stopped... no door could have held them back. Not your pleas, nor any force we could muster. We truly were, and still are, under the mercy of the chaos that is bred out here."
I stopped for a moment, letting my words sink into myself as much as them. I'd said I had doubts, and it was true. But it was also true that we, as a whole people, could be easily snuffed out by any higher power. The Legion was one, though they were meant to integrate us into them, not slaughter us. Others wouldn't have been so merciful. "I know you may find what I'm saying hard to stomach. It was hard for me to take in too, believe me. I would have been content with the life I had. Protecting all of you was a worthwhile job, and gave me great satisfaction. But against the dangers out here... I can do little. We, your sworn protectors, can do little. And me, I can only tell you this: The Imperial Roaman Legion are your protectors now, whether you like it or not. They are our government, and it is their duty to protect you, is as it is our duty as Roamans to help them. And though that relationship is falling lopsided now -- lopsided because we're too scared to embrace change when it's good for us -- they will still protect you. They will still fight for you, and they already have. All they ask from you is a little trust. And if it be in your hearts, a little cooperation."
There was a moment of silence, utterly quiet as the assembled looked to each other uncertainly. Clearly I'd made an impression on them. But would it be enough? I didn't know, and the uncertainty contorted within me like a vortex, dragging my hopes down into an abyss every second they remained silent. It seemed to do the same to Thanus, whose expression was locked in a tense, almost desperate squint. For us, this was it. Moment of truth.
"I'm willing to trust them!" Zeena piped, breaking the spell of silence. "I am. We're all just one big family, right? We have to trust and help. Families break apart if they don't." She trotted forward and sat next to Thanus, looking up at the older zebra with a smile. "If they wanted to hurt us, they could have. But they didn't, because they care for us. And that's enough for me."
"And me," a grey pony from the crowd blurted, suddenly getting everyone's attention. He looked down at the dirt warily for a second, then stepped forward and felt it beneath his hooves. He breathed deep, glancing back at those staring at him. "I've been the lower-levels janitor for five years. To say that I'm content with that is a lie, and sorry to say that. But I see opportunity out here, and I'm gonna take it. Jupiter, let this be the right choice!"
He trotted over and sat by Thanus and Zeena, and all the while the lot of us stared in shock. Then a zebra mare let off a great loud cry of exasperation. "Damn it, Bucket Splash, you and your damn decisions!" She stepped forward and marched angrily towards the grey pony, then sat by him with a huff. "It's times like this that I hate you. I swear, if you get us killed somehow..."
But she was with him, and that was all that mattered. She was with him in the decision to embrace the outside, to embrace change. And like an avalanche set off by the rolling of small stones, more people stepped forward -- more ponies, more zebras, even two guards! And as they went, muttering reasons and letting off sighs, my heart was leaping in my chest. It was done! Marediolanians were shedding their reservations! The plan looked to be a success!
Zeena's mother finally found the courage to step on soil and gallop for her daughter, and hugged her tight. She'd found the courage to let the fear pass; and so did many more, to my complete delight. They gathered over on our side, being the first to accept the change. Their faces worried yet somehow brave, they sat and stood around me. And I couldn't help but smile like a fool all the while.
By the end of it, all who were left on the other side were people I recognized as important individuals of Marediolanon. Too important, perhaps, to take the leap even if they wanted to. The Stable needed them, after all -- Lighthouse, the head-engineer, would have quite the job cut out for him in repairing the engine room; Kevlar Vest, head of Eckris' elite, would be relied upon to reimpose order within our home; and last of all, Syringe, whose medical and psychiatric expertise would probably be needed by many traumatized and afflicted Marediolanians. There the three stood, the pillars of our shelter, opposite those of us who embraced change. Then, together, they retreated back into the entrance hall, and disappeared within.
Their departure left a sour note amongst those who'd taken the risk, and they began murmuring and muttering among themselves, some even looking regretful of their choice. I grew worried, but Thanus simply turned to face them all with a grin.
"Mind them not," he said. "They've yet to understand the gravity of the situation. But in time, they will. In time, all things will come to the fold, for our cooperation is a necessity to our survival. They'll see that soon. But you who've taken the jump, whatever the reason..." He stood on his hindlegs and spread his forehooves apart.
His face smiling and gentle, his demeanor jovial, he declared, "Welcome to the outside! Welcome to your new life! And of course... welcome to the Legion."
Summer Sands and I stood there, watching him as he further addressed the crowd. I was smiling like a fool, standing in total awe at the success of our plan. Perhaps it wasn't a full win yet, seeing as the few who'd agreed weren't even a tenth of our home's population. But they signified hope for that plan, and in them I could see the future of a thriving Marediolanon. In them, I could see their own bright future, whether they'd wanted it or not. And in no small amount did I feel pride, for I'd allowed it all to happen.
And yet there was something off about it all. A nagging thought in the depths of my consciousness -- the last residual remains of my doubts, perhaps? Maybe. Perilax had made it abundantly clear the likes of Thanus were dangerous, somehow. But so long as the legate did nothing to harm my people, he was fine by me. And if he tried anything, I promised myself I would be there.
I would be there, I thought. Oh, yes I would. Nothing would stop me. All I would do I would do for the greater good of my people, and of Roam.
Then, "Goldwreath!" Thanus called, breaking away from his address to look my way. In like manner, the attention of all was on me in that instant. But I didn't shrink or cringe back. My pride was too great to let anything belittle me at that moment. "I need you to do something for me, if you're willing?"
"Of course! What is it?"
"There's a zebra in the camp. Wears a white toga, with a red sash. I need you to go and find him, please."
The mentioning of such a zebra stirred one of the praetorians out of his stiff at-attention pose, and with an uneasy, cautious, hesitant tone he stuttered, "Uh, actually, lord... there's uh, a complication with that..."
"Oh?" Thanus winced inwardly. "What kind of complication? Surely Malfurios has time to meet me for his next dignitary assignment. That young bastard has nothing but time!"
The praetorian swallowed, shaking his bandaged head. I caught his eye glance to his fellows, at Postulma and the other guard. They both gave a tiny nod. "I... I don't think he would, legate," he said.
Thanus froze. Suddenly all sense of achievement and victory drained from his shocked, pale face. His legs shuddered, threatening to collapse under him. The crowd, anxiously awaiting the continuation of their welcome, grew tense -- clearly they who'd taken such a leap were expecting a proper address for their bravery. But none dared to speak up as legate Thanus stared off into the air, eyes blank of all life.
"Where is he?" Thanus asked.
One of the guards licked his lips and swallowed. "We will show you his crater."
***Roama Victrix***
"So... yeah, that's him," Postulma rasped, looking down at a blood-soaked, smoking crater just outside the praetorium. Thanus and I both looked down at it as well, trying to piece together how some vapor and dirt had once been a zebra dignitary. A part of me would've gotten sick, but such a demise was much easier to stomach than much more... explicit deaths. At our wordless gazes he added, "It happened sometime during the attack. We only found out after the victory, so... well, yeah." He cleared his throat. "We'd have told you sooner, but then we agreed that maybe such an action wasn't ideal just yet. You still had a crowd to convince. We were sure you wanted to have a clear head first before... this."
I understood that. Emotions muddled up all things, either helping or hindering the efficient accomplishment of a goal. Who's to say my own achievements thus far weren't affected by emotions as well? Surely they were, but if they'd been more affected then maybe our plan wouldn't have reached this point at all. Now a little over a dozen Marediolanians were at least shakily with us, and I trusted Summer Sands to have the greater good in mind now that he and the others had, at least for the moment, returned to our home. Who knew, maybe they'd somehow manage to convince more people to embrace the outside.
Of course, Thanus may have taken it differently. Maybe beneath his supposedly-conniving and charismatic exterior lay a fragile person, susceptible to crying breakdowns. But he simply looked on, and bent heel near the crater as if to inspect it. Then he sighed, and looked to the heavens with red and puffy but tearless eyes, his face smiling.
"Well, it seems you really were the first of us. Good on you," he said to the sky, then shook his head and gave a strained snicker. "Well then... say hello to my father for me, Malfurios. Say hello to everyone else I loved, who you may now meet in Elysium. And... be patient." He sniffled a little, looking back to the earth. "Be patient. I'll join you soon enough."
His expression and demeanor remaining light-hearted despite the loss of one he'd obviously held as a close friend, he turned to us. "Well, in war casualties can be made of any and all. Malfurios knew that well, and so do you both. But he's dead now, so he needn't worry for life anymore. In a way, I envy him." He sighed shakily, and then frowned hard. "Whatever the case, I'm now a dignitary short. Wonderful. Who do I send to back to Roam to make official the announcement of the occupation of Apollania?"
"Er... I'm available, sir," Postulma said timidly, hesitantly raising a hoof. His ears drooped at the sharp look his legate gave him.
"You?" Thanus snickered. "Well, I said I'd discipline you, and it will be done. Your teacher shall be the wasteland -- go and suffer its pains, with no respite in Roam. That shall be enough for me. Your punishment also eliminates the possibility of you botching up another conversation, which is good. Work on your rhetoric, Postulma. You'll need it."
Scolded once again, Postulma backed away, looking ashamed. Then Thanus approached me. "How about you, Goldwreath? Any desire to go Roam to make official announcement of my conquests here?"
"Wait. Me?" I blurted, eyes going wide. Then I stuttered out, "You're offering to send me there? T-to Roam? I thought I was supposed to be a-a local peacekeeper... or something. An auxiliary soldier, or a vigiles. To go there would be just... wow, it hadn't crossed my mind at all."
He let off a smirk, amused by my reaction. "I understand. But I need someone to go, for you see my superior in the Forum in Roam is very... meticulous with such things. Paperwork, files, records -- anything important, really. A simple 'Apollania will be ours' message won't cut it for him. So, as with all my fellow legates, he would have me send a dignitary or some trusted individual to make official all important events. Sadly, this morning I... I lost who I'd have sent."
He spared a glance at the crater and immediately his look turned solemn. "So I need someone. The wounded will be traveling by land convoy to more dedicated medical facilities back in the capital, but whoever I send leaves this afternoon on a two-day trip to the Forum and back. There would be little risk at all, considering the one that go shall travel by air."
"Gee... this is... wow..." I babbled, shaking my head as I looked to the dirt. But of course I wanted to go. Had the offer been made when Marediolanon was stabilized, I'd have accepted with no second thought. After all, I would have been back in just two days. But then? I... I couldn't. There were too many loose ends, too many unknowns. Any number of things could have occurred in my absence, and my loyalties were still with my people. The things I did I did for them after all, even if they'd hate me if they ever found out. But to leave for Roam just out of my own desire? No, that was selfish. That was different.
Of course, a part of me thought, I do deserve it, after all I've done. To not get what I deserve is unfair. Very unfair. And like all unfairness, it should be rectified.
His smile waned, turning gentle. "Well, think on it. But if you're to go, you're to go this afternoon. Make a decision quickly."
"You have to understand, I simply... well, I want to, but I can't. I can't just leave, without telling my parents or my friends. My father would have my hide if he found out."
"Of course," he replied, breaking off. "Duty to the pater familias should be near the heart of every Roaman, next of course to one's duty to Roam, which is always at the core." He turned to Postulma, eyes narrowing in thought. "Though, now that I remember... Postulma, didn't you face a similar predicament with your family in Aurelia?"
The praetorian nodded. Then Thanus gave him an expectant look, and Postulma explained, "Well, sir, they wanted me to tell them everything I did; felt like they were breathing down my neck. Honestly, it got tiring as hell. That's why I joined training for the Tent Guards without telling 'em. By the time they found out, well... my life was only for Roam." His masked features lit up. "I don't regret it. Life out here's much more interesting than learning to be a glorified accountant. They'll just have to suck it up. I mean, I love them, but I hated the life they had planned for me. Too boring."
"That was months ago, of course," the legate said, stepping towards his guard but still eyeing me. "I'm sure they've accepted it by now. But I'm certain disdain for your family's demeanor wasn't the only reason you left, yes?"
Postulma let off a shy, nervous chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You already know all this, sir. It was in my application. They were raising me to manage the affairs of Aurelia's economy, right? Well, the Legion's been building up its wealth for two centuries. The time for golden denarii has passed, if you ask me; it's time for steel and iron. We won't be able to buy out every contender. We'll need to fight. And Roam needs conviction and ready decisions now, of all times. All else must be secondary... even parents."
He looked to me and shrugged. "That's just what I feel about it anyway, Goldwreath. Don't take me as an example, unless you really want to. Just saying that in these times there should be no hesitation. It's do or die, most of the time."
I looked down to the soil, as if begging it to put my indecision at ease. Postulma's tale had put forth another reason to go, aside from mere desire. It was duty, to Roam and to the government. I'd been offered to go to the capital itself, and to do something important and meaningful there. My hesitation was an affront to efforts to revive the Roaman world. Who knew what incalculably grand effects each second I spent idling would have? Each second was one wherein a bomb could have gone off, killing dozens. Or maybe some well-meaning outsider was being harassed unjustly; yet another assault on fairness and peace. Perhaps my hesitation could somehow result in the ultimate failure of Roaman restoration altogether. The world could forever remain a wasteland!
Then my eyes twitched. Surely those were extremes, never to actually happen simply because of me! No, it was ridiculous... but was it? Actually, they could happen! Therefore, I had to go. But I couldn't... but I had to, yes? Surely I should, but I could not... gah!
Just follow your heart, another part of me seemed to say. What is better, to be scolded but have done good, or to have done nothing but be praised?
Thanus snickered and turned away. "Well, think fast, but not too fast. I see great conflict in your eyes. Relax. Whatever your choice, I'm sure all things will be made right by the end of the campaigning season. For now, though, I must-..."
"Alright, I'll go!" I blurted, and then froze. Some mechanism of my mind had actually just made me say that. I was paralyzed, but as the the swirling pool of panic and shock began to settle in my mind, I realized what exactly had just happened. It was another one of my mental-coinflips.
Ah, my mental-coinflips. I named my impulsive actions that. For you see, in great moments of indecision in my life I decided I'd let impulse rule. I allowed it to thrive because I hated indecision, for it did nothing but trap me in a never ending debate with myself. I was notorious amongst my peers for thinking too much. Even my parents spoke to me about it one day after class, when I'd written an essay too long for the teacher to read, or understand. And after another day, when my thinking too much made me waste a whole hour attempting to answer a single question, and subsequently fail the most important test of the year, I vowed to never again let indecision waste more than a minute of my life. And now the mechanism that I'd developed to always keep me moving forward had made, what I like to think, the biggest, most important decision of my life.
At least, I thought so. My 'mental-coinflips' had always been for small things, normal things. I wasn't sure why, but I had the very strange feeling the bursts of conviction I'd experienced since the day before were encouraged, evoked. Surely, it was just me who drew them forth, but if it wasn't... could I ever have made such decisions on my own?
"Wait. You actually just said yes?" Postulma blinked, his sickly eyes widening with bafflement. "Did my little story make you do that? It would really explain a lot if it did..." he muttered.
"It would explain a lot, indeed," Thanus intoned, still focusing on me with both eyes wide. "Did I just hear that right, though? You'll go?"
"Yes yes yes," I said quickly, bowing my head. "I've not been forced, but I... well, my mind realizes the importance of the task. The wasteland is brutal, I've seen that firsthand. If there's even a chance I can prevent some kind of cruelty from happening by doing this, and in so helping this Legion accomplish its goal, then I should do it. Even if my parents may never know." I looked up desperately. "You'll cover for me, yes? If anyone comes asking, you'll tell them I'm just... busy?"
The legate nodded. "Of course, I'd not want you to be the source of much fuss. But you're certain about this?" He stepped towards me and nodded off into the horizon, at the city. "I know I said there's little risk, but there still is. If you're going, you must tell me now that you're going out of free will and with full knowledge of what may befall you."
"I am," I answered. "This is important. My father would never let me go if I went to him, at least not so soon after yesterday. I just hope he'll understand if he finds out, and I hope more that he never does. It's there and back again, and things go normal after -- so I pray this shall go."
Thanus beamed, looking elated. "Excellent!” he piped. “Excellent! Yes, excellent excellent! Nyahaha!" For a moment he just stood there, laughing to himself in glee as he did a little dance on his hooves. Then he relaxed with a great inhale, smiling. We both stared at him like he was a maniac, but he just grinned. "Gah, don't mind me, you two. I am thirty-five years old. For the military, that is young, but... well, I'm a father. The stress of parenting over long distances and commanding a legion can be so... so very tiring at times. I take joys when I can, I bask in my success when I can. So please do forgive me if I come off as... queer, from time to time."
I rose an eyebrow and took a tentative step backwards. "Okay then," I drawled. "So, this afternoon? Anything you suggest I do before I leave?"
He shook his head with blithe unconcern. "None that I can think of, my good boy! None at all! Bide your time and look to the future, maybe? After all, you shall be seeing the resplendent glory of Roam, tarnished slightly but radiant in the sun. How exciting!"
I managed a faint smile. Yet, as I dismissed myself and made my way back to my tent to 'bide my time' and gather a few necessities, I was troubled. If Thanus could cover for me in my absence, then all would be well. But otherwise there would be much scorn to face, a scolding that would remain with me all my life. My father would never be able to accept that I'd left, and against his explicit instructions, to aid outsiders.
But what else could I do? This was a good thing I was going to do, something helpful and useful. And I was a guard of Marediolanon and a citizen of Roam. For duty to home and nation, I had to put all else aside. Even friends. Even parents. And now for that duty, I was to go on a very important, very short mission.
Of course... things never do go as simply as one expects.
***Roama Victrix***
The sun was high in the sky, though off in the distance at an angle. It cast a radiant yellow light over the world, illuminating the bleached white sands of the desert. And as the light struck and reflected off colossal white clouds that blinded me to look at, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, staving off brewing panic.
I'd not paid the size of the world much attention the first time I'd came outside. Perhaps I simply couldn't divert the attention; my mind at the time was immensely preoccupied with a problem and prospect I knew I needed to focus on. But now that problem was over, more or less, and I faced a new challenge that was of such immense importance I dared not think on it the way I would anything else. I was trying to distract myself. And, as it turns out, it took only that for me to realize how utterly puny I was, and how very high up the clouds and the sun were.
Of course, I had it lucky, I think. I'd read books about psychology, and therefore much on how people exposed to new conditions reacted. Sometimes the change was too jarring, too sudden, for them to cope with naturally, so they'd retreat to more comfortable places until the change passed. Sometimes the change even inflicted a trauma they could never come to terms with. Maybe it was because I was a pegasus, but thank goodness the only panic I felt at the prospect of the vast heavens and the wide earth was easily staved off with many deep breaths.
And then I started panicking again, breathing deeper and quicker as I saw it, miles off in the distance, but closing in fast. A wind blew around me as it neared, rolling sand and dust into little whirlwinds and rustling at my feathers; the dust gathered on the rough leather saddlebags I’d been provided, within which lay the map of Roam and a few canteens of posca, as well as some bread. But the wind was no natural wind, just as the fluctuating roar that carried on the air as the aircraft approached was no natural sound.
I suddenly remembered why I'd been distracting myself. I preferred the panic of the sky over this. At least the heavens weren't going to come closer with the intent of whisking me off. But my mind had locked onto the emotions of my upcoming journey, and now nothing else mattered. I felt nothing but the bowel-loosening, heart-clenching anxiety of what was to come. And when the metallic hulk thudded down onto a rocky extension jutting out of the mountainside, it felt as though the gravity of its landing had pulled my guts down to the lowest extremities of my body.
But, though my body had gone numb all over, my mind, ever-ready to take in all there was to perceive, good or bad, worked over the aircraft instantly with calculated scrutiny. I looked over the craft’s grey wings: short, stubby extensions that grew thinner near the end, and beneath which were attached several combusting turbines connected to the aircraft using gigantic spherical joints allowing them to tilt and rotate to almost any angle. And then I looked over the vehicle's structure; it was compact, with a low, level spine to which the wings connected, and at the front of which jutted out a smooth oval of a cockpit, with tinted obsidian glass. On the rear end was an armored door, geometrically tilted and shaped to fit with the pragmatic design of the rest of the machine. The entirety of the aircraft sported light steel-grey plating, highlighted with stripes of red along the edges of its chassis.
"Whelp, there's your ride," Postulma said dourly, almost sounding jealous. "Enjoy Roam for the two days you'll be there. I know I would." He sighed, then looked to me. He'd gone to the doctor in the hour I'd taken to prepare myself for this 'secret' departure, and the medical staff had managed to bring his fever and swelling down enough such that they trusted his immune system to not need the mask. Apparently, others needed it more than him, and he'd been compelled to give it up. "Say hello to Astrum while you're there, eh? Praetorian, just like me. Tall but thin, serious-faced; can't miss him. At least, you definitely couldn't if he hasn't stopped bringing those stupid books of his everywhere he goes..."
"Nothing wrong with books." I swallowed as I eyed the object of my departure. Postulma'd told me that Thanus was sending along a small retinue, just to keep an eye over me. Whether it was ordered out of a desire for my safety or a caution over what I may do, I couldn't tell. Even as I watched, a group of eight zebras that was apparently to be my escort marched along the earthen palisade of the camp and down a gentle dirt slope to the rocky outcrop the aircraft was on. They were waved off with scattered goodbyes, some of which they returned. But the general mood of those staying behind seemed to be, just as Postulma'd said, 'Enjoy Roam while you can. I know I would'. But some of the legionaries had an even more dour look that suggested they wanted it more than Postulma ever could. Then the rear of the craft cracked open with a hiss, and a metal ramp lowered down to the dirt. The soldiers stepped in.
He followed my gaze, eyeing the aircraft intently. "Maybe, maybe... but it doesn't matter right now. There's a Forum to head to and an announcement to make. Thanus would have this over with as soon as possible. And remember, he needs you here to help keep the peace. You're essential to the plan you helped formulate. So the longer you're gone, well..."
"Yes, yes, of course," I said quickly and took a step forward. Then I stopped, and took a step back... then forward again. Then I stopped, again, and looked to him with an anxious grin. "So, uh... just go over and board? Won't I be sent off or... something?"
"What, with honor guards and all that? Well, you would if Thanus cared more for formalities. But he doesn't, so yeah. Just board."
I nodded and moved forward. But then I stopped again; some section of my being was holding me back, anchoring me here. It was the cautious, introversive side of me: the part that had always challenged and questioned the innumerable misadventures I'd had. Admittedly, it barely ever won me over, but it was making me hesitate, making me balk. And though I mentally screamed at it to behave itself and let my course set off, pouring into my raving every last bit of hatred for hesitation I could muster, all that did was lock me in a recurring rut of stepping forward, then backward, then stopping again.
The ridiculous pattern went on for a good few moments, until Postulma stepped up and nudged me along down the path to the rocky outcrop. "Good gods, is as if you're a fucking machine with its gears all caught up in a bunch," he muttered with a little chuckle as he gave me a final gentle shove forward. I staggered to a stop, feeling sluggish and dumb as I looked back to him. He snickered. "Go on, go on. You'll be fine."
The lever in my head finally settling on 'forward', I moved. I took slow but sure steps towards the aircraft, which grew steadily larger in my vision until I stood in its shadow. My heart thundering in my chest and my legs numb from anxiety, I stepped up the metallic ramp and into the cabin. I looked for the nearest seat and sat down straight away, swallowing saliva to get my queasy stomach to calm. I ignored the snickers and the jeering looks thrown my way as the soldiers mocked me in Imperial.
Then there was a jarring clang and shake, making me gasp and press myself against the backrest. I felt an odd sense of internal weightlessness as all the mass of my body seemed to sink to my legs. I felt wind on my face as I shut my eyes, my hooves gripping at my seat. I heard an intensifying roar from beyond the bounds of the cabin as the turbines ignited.
I cautiously opened my eyes and looked aside, out the door, and immediately felt a great sense of awe. The crunching puniness that'd born down on me earlier now returned with a renewed energy, taking the breath from my lungs. For due to the angle and position of the vehicle, I could see all: everything I'd observed individually the day before, now compressed into a single image. I could see the camp, steadily shrinking into the distance as the vehicle ascended; the soldiers in it were almost as small as ants now, the blur of their waving hooves nearly invisible. The carnage along the slopes was now nothing but a distant see of black and red, punctuated with plumes of smoke rising up into the radiant light of the sun.
And then the city, off in the distance behind the mountain. There were glittering lights coming from it, as though a thousand mirrors had been positioned on the ground within the city proper just to reflect the sun. A host of equally-glittering objects hovered above and about the skyscrapers like cinders floating in the air. All of it, from that height, now... so small.
"Looks like the other cohorts are moving into Apollania," someone mused. "Hope that goes well for them. Fucking savages are excellent urban fighters, I'll give 'em that... let's hope the hurt we gave those tribes today makes their job easier."
"Thanus will get it done," someone added. "He always gets it done. And with the rest of the legion behind him, the remaining tribes will either submit or die. That's just how it'll go."
"Where is Thanus anyway?" another asked. The question struck me. Yes, where was he? Postulma had said that Thanus was sending a retinue along, but he hadn't said a single thing about the legate's whereabouts.
Then a legionary scooted close, pointing a hoof down to a rocky formation near the foot of the mountain. I followed his gaze down to a tiny spot of bright red, distinct enough from the bright yellow light of the sun to be seen. "I think that's him. No centurion would just take a stroll away from the camp right now."
Others came closer, getting off their seats to gather near the door. A panic swelled up within me as they leaned, squinting, paying no heed at all to the possibility of falling to their death hundreds of feet below. I gulped and pressed myself even harder against the backrest, but my eyes were on the spot of red. Eventually we all confirmed that it was indeed the legate, and that the bright spot of red was actually the crest of Thanus's helmet. He was just standing there, alone atop a boulder. And as the craft turned in a wide arc in the sky, the new course brought us closer to the ground, moving at high speeds. Perhaps it was the pilot's intent, but we moved close enough to where the legate stood that the legionaries were able to cheer and shout Thanus' name like a chant. Apparently, he really was well respected by his troops.
The behavior of his soldiers put up a content, proud look on his face as he looked up at us. In fact, he looked very proud, very content... maybe a little too proud and content. Hadn't he said many times over that he didn't like being praised, for it bore the possibility of swelling his pride? Well, every commander had a right to some indulgence, I suppose...
But he wasn't smiling for the praise. No... no it was something else. He was staring at me, focusing on me with that same unnerving grin. The aircraft was away from the mountain now, and the ramp-door finally began sliding back into place. And as it did so, Thanus waved us a goodbye before breaking his soul-seeing gaze. Then he turned around slowly to look up and behind him at the mountain, all the light of the sun bearing down on him as he observed the fruits of his labor.
The doors clanged into place.
I relaxed with a great sigh, the image of him seared into my mind. I saw it even when I closed my eyes: him, proud and tall atop a huge rock, looking the prize of his work over with his back turned to me. For some reason it unnerved me even more so than the way he'd smiled.
"Hey," someone said, and I felt a nudge on my shoulder. "Hey. Hey, pony. 'Sup with you?"
I opened my eyes, looking over at the legionary next to me. "Huh, what?"
"You seem queasy," he pointed out. "What? You sick? 'Cause you definitely look kinda sick."
I shook my head, focusing on my breathing and getting my body under control. "No, I'm not." I looked to the others in the cabin, and my eyes popped wide as I saw the aquilifer on the seat opposite mine. He was hugging the shaft of the eagle standard close, and his fur-covered helmet and head were bowed as he sat there solemnly. "You're coming with us?" I asked him.
The aquilifer looked up with wide, self-conscious eyes. "Er, me?" I nodded, and he looked to everyone else in the cabin with a cautious glance. "Yeah... er... well, yeah. Kind of tradition among us to have the eagle of a legion close when that legion's being represented." He looked up at the golden eagle resting atop the standard. "Been like that s'long as I remember. It implores the gods to be close where important matters of state are concerned and all that."
He cleared his throat and leaned back, careful to not slam the eagle against the compact cabin's walls. "Well, that's why I'm here, anyway." He looked over to me with a little half-smile. You though... from Stable pony to dignitary in a single day. Pretty impressive."
"Bah, it's impressive where politics are concerned," the one next to me scoffed. "Now, I'd like to see how he deals with real challenges! Ever killed before, pony? Or gotten in a nice brawl? Come on, come on, say something that'll impress me," he jeered. I sat silently and tried to make myself as small as possible as all the others laughed. All of them but the aquilifer, who just sat still and reflected my behavior as though it were him being laughed at.
It was going to be a long trip, I thought, and sighed. Especially with them making jokes amongst themselves and speaking of things I knew nothing of. The anxiety had ebbed away, leaving me feeling nothing but the purest sense of utter boredom. But, though I was bored, I couldn't retreat into productive thinking. No, my mind was occupied by other things, as it often was. The very last of my worries now concentrated in the depths of my consciousness just to remember that smile, that very unnerving smile. That smile, which reassured me and radiated mischief at the same time...
Then the aquilifer leaned in and softly said, "They can get a bit rowdy, sometimes... annoying. Most people I've been with were. Thank goodness you're different." With a hasty, almost apologetic tone he added, "Er, if I may say so myself, of course."
I nodded. "I do prefer keeping to myself. I guess we have that in common." I smiled, extending a hoof. "Goldwreath."
"Goldwreath? What's that... oh, your name!" He looked down at my foreleg and swallowed. "I'm... uh, Audrius," he replied, making a move to shake my hoof that he didn't push through with. He lowered his forelimb with a self-scorning expression. He looked up to me again, grinning sheepishly. "First time flying?" he asked in a rush, as if desperate to change the topic.
I shook my head, suppressing a laugh of my own. "No, actually," I replied, and he winced in surprise. "I have. Many times." Then I frowned "Thing is, though..." I said slowly, thinking back. "Every time I did, I... always crashed. Always."
Then the blood drained from my face as a voice in me chuckled, And it will always be so, Goldwreath. Now until the end of days.
Audrius narrowed his gaze. "Okay, now I'm starting to see what Lucius meant. You do look kind of pale."
"Just a thought," I intoned, feeling the coldness of my cheeks. "A disturbing thought. Very, very disturbing." I leaned back and swallowed. "A thought I hope isn't true."
"Well, don't fret," he said, looking up the shaft. "The gods are with us. They'll not let anything bad happen so long as we don't lose the eagle."
I looked up to the standard as well, eyeing its golden form and looking into its eyes. I didn't know why, but there was something with it now that bothered me, making my mane and skin crawl like it'd been infested with little spiders. Yesterday it held me with a powerful curiosity, a force that intensified my focus; I liked focus, hence what I felt had been good. But now an eldritch aura seemed to resonate from it, like sound that couldn't be heard but could be felt on a deeper fundamental level. My thoughts felt scattered and my emotions were jumpy just from looking at it, and so I tore myself away.
"Well, I hope your gods will keep their end of that deal," I murmured, swallowing as I leaned back, feeling incredibly exposed and cold all over as the queer aura of the eagle seemed to grow stronger. "Because I have a feeling something really bad is about to happen."
Entry #4 Social Catalyst. Hm, so that's what some of my classmates call me now. Well, I suppose I had a hoof in reforming our philosophy class, but really I simply acted as a vessel for Change, that ever-constant force. Still, nice to be recognized.
You gain extra dialogue options with specific characters, and you gain an additional point to your Charisma.
Chapter V Wings of Liberty "Ah, what a world it would be wherein all people are free from all oppression, and all fear has no substance nor freedom itself any abuse."
"... and here, among much else, lies the reason this war must transpire! Hear me, for this is truth: the existence of the pony nation of Equestria is a hindrance to the rise of Roam. They are our antithesis, valuing those things we know to be false. And if by the gods they offend, then by us they offend as well. Therefore, they... must... die!"
My hoof slammed hard on the marble podium, an echoing thump resonating through the light-flooded chamber. Immediately a cacophony of return slams drummed into my ears, cheers and shouts of impassioned agreement bringing a satisfied smile to my lips. My eyes focused on the radiant source of light perpendicular to my vision, far off on a distant wall. Then I glanced to both sides, where the flare of the light was dimmer -- there I saw many dozens of zebras in white togas with red sashes, all nodding and smiling and cheering. Then I took a deep breath and stomped, leaning forward.
"For Roam!" I bellowed, receiving deafening response as the senators shouted it back.
"FOR ROAM!"
I nodded to myself in final satisfaction before turning and trotting, my legs taking me to an open circular doorway, at the flanks of which two purple-dressed and muscle-armored praetorian guards stood. I passed by them and descended the spiraling staircase that followed, the cheers of the assembled senate receding into the background as another advocate of the war stepped up to deliver his own piece.
"Theodorus! Theodorus!" came a huffing voice just behind me. I turned and looked up the stairs.
"Theodorus! Gah, glad... glad I caught up to you," the zebra that had called me panted. He was a lanky fellow, with gaunt cheeks and a scrawny complexion.
"Yes, Maladus? What do you need?" I asked, and he motioned for me to give him a moment as he panted there. Then he stood straight and smiled a cheeky grin.
"First off: wonderful speech. The others were able to move some senators to nod and agree, but that? The entire assembly cheering you on? Marvelous!"
I smiled bashfully and looked down. "Well, thank you. I do pour my soul into each and every speech, so it's quite nice to see the results are as desired." Then I looked Maladus in the eye with an intense fervor, making the other zebra squirm. "Yes, into each and every speech. For when something must be said, it must be said utterly, with nothing to muddle up the essence of the idea. Only then can that aspect of existence be truly understood. Do I want blood? Then I shall say so without shying away. Do I want fury? Then I shall below for anger and hatred! Do I want war? Then by the god Mars I shall cry, 'Havoc!', and let slip the dogs of doom!" I stomped hard, and whether it was the floor or my hoof that cracked, I don't know. Maladus cringed back, his lanky face pale with fear that only morphed into the epitome of fright when I lunged forward, grabbing him the shoulders and glaring into his eyes.
I maintained the gaze for many moments until I grinned wide and laughed. "And that, Maladus, is why my speeches are real speeches. Because everything that exists must have its time to shine, and I am merely the vessel through which they make themselves known. Thus, I am morphed by the tides of reality."
Maladus nodded and gave a tiny frightened chuckle. "O-oh yes, of course..." he muttered. Then he cleared his throat. "Now, er, b-before you say anything else that may give me a heart attack, I feel I must press on. Secondly: I came to you to, ah... well, there's someone who'd like to speak with you. Oh, make that two of them."
"Who?" I asked as I stepped closer.
Maladus opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it. He swallowed. "Well, why not just follow me? Off this way!" And then he darted off back up the stairs. I sighed and followed, muttering under my breath as I climbed the steps. When I reached the doorway and another pair of guards acknowledged my presence, I stopped and looked around.
"Over here!" he called, waving at me from the dimness of a side-passage. I trotted over, and he darted around the corner.
"Maladus, I really don't think I have time for this..." I said, then balked at how incredibly dark the hall beyond the door was. The first few steps of a staircase were illuminated, and a cold breeze wafted from the darkness. I could hear his echoing steps as he himself ascended the steps.
"This is my first time in this part of the Forum, Maladus. I'd really like it if I didn't get lost," I called into the darkness as I stepped up, climbing the stairs. As I went, the chill of the air and the speed of the wind intensified. And so I climbed... and climbed... then stopped, to breathe deeply for a few moments as the air thinned. And then I climbed again, made a turn... climbed again, made another turn...
The light shone down on me, blinding me and stopping me right where I stood as I blocked it off with a hoof. I cursed, and after a few moments summoned the will to take the last few steps. As I stepped free of the dark hall, a bracing chill wrapped around me as a wind blew past.
I withdrew my hoof and noticed I had stepped on a stone path, with lush green grass and bright flowers nearby. A garden. How nice. "It's a wonderful sight, Maladus, but who's so important that I need to be taken to now?" I asked as I looked around. By my sides there was nothing but grass and flowers, so the stone path led only forward. At the end of the path stood an olive tree, its base surrounded by four rectangular marble seats. In front of the tree was a low wall, above which I saw the city of Roam; so, I concluded, I was at a balcony. The sun had gone low in the sky, casting radiant orange light over the world. Such was its angle that I saw three figures conversing below the tree, though they were naught but silhouettes from where I stood.
"Maladus?" I asked cautiously as I stepped close. The three figures ceased conversing and looked at me. In air that cold, I could see their breaths.
One of them stepped forward, his shadowy shape was cloaked with a fur-collared cape. With a smooth, premeditated tone the shape said, "Ah. Theodorus, the Voice of Roam, well-known and sought-after orator, we come face-to-face at last. I've wished to meet you for a while now, you know. I have need of your skills."
"Well, I'm flattered, but cautious as to who's speaking," I replied, glancing off to the side, where the lighting was such that I could confirm one of the other two figures was indeed Maladus. The other two remained a mystery. I focused once more on the one who'd spoken. "Who are you, might I ask?"
"Ah, yes. I do believe proper introductions are in order," he said, clearing his throat and stepping close enough such that I could see his face. He was a serious-looking zebra, with sharp features and a reserved air about him. Yet, he was smiling faintly, his well-trimmed mane and groomed face looking the part of the epitome of zebra male appearance.
"Decarius, legate of the Aquaeus legions." With a wave at his two companions he added, "And over there is legate Autherius, legate of Legio III Obstinatus Alpina and part-time praetorian tribune. You already know Maladus, head of the Institute of Fundamental Sciences." He turned to me again. "And we are the members of our own little triumvirate -- just a little name, mind you. We rule over nothing more than what has been assigned to us."
"Legate Decarius," I said, nodding and smiling. "Well, that adds much for context. I've heard much about your efforts along the coasts, preparing our shorelines against the near-inevitable Equestrian offensive. You've done much for Roam, legate."
"We all have done much for Roam," he replied. Then he pursed his lips and asked, "You advocate the war, yes?"
"I do," I replied. "Those ponies are just another step on Roam's path to greatness. They've meddled with our affairs for too long, asked for too much coal and given too little gems in return -- blatant, disgusting unfairness. And they own lands that should rightfully have been ours hundreds of years ago. What's more, they stand against everything Roam represents. Splitting authority between two princesses like incapable fools, blaspheming Apollo by saying Celestia reigns over the sun... all of it, sacrilege! I'd have them wiped from the face of the earth. And this war is the perfect means to meet that end."
Decarius nodded, smiling. "Well, there are some who would disagree with you. There are some who would say that cooperation, not domination, is Roam's road to prosperity and power."
"And those people can go throw themselves off the Tarpeian Rock," I scoffed. "Nature is survival of the fittest. The strong thrive, the weak die. It's just the way it is. Roam is great because we tolerate no weakness, but Equestria tolerates all... even criminals, even cripples, even those who are wrong. Keeping poison in the body does not make sense; expelling it does." I glowered. "Simply letting such a cancerous nation live is an affront to all we stand for. That I cannot tolerate."
Autherius stepped forward, his ceremonial chest plate gleaming in the sun. He appeared much younger than Decarius, with fairer features and a more naturally messy mane. "I couldn't agree more. The world is destined to be Roam's. It was merely by twisted luck and such cancer as you've mentioned that our dominion has been reduced to one continent. But..." His voice trailed off as he glanced at his fellow legate. Maladus stepped forward as well, nodding for Autherius to continue.
"But?" I asked.
Autherius stood straight. "But we aim to change that. This war, we all advocate it. We all believe it is for the greater good of Roam. Many stand against it, though -- many senators, some of the public, lower officials... even Caesar himself. But we believe that, as war is practically assured at this point, we must take matters into our own hooves. Make our own moves, our own decisions. He who does not strike first will be first struck, after all. And we three here, we will make our first strike... but before we do, we were hoping to recruit you."
My eyes popped wide. "Recruit me? Into what?"
"Well, we want you to join our little rag-tag assortment," Decarius said with a charismatic smile. "We have two legates and a scientist. A worthy bunch, but it lacks significant direct--” He stopped himself from finishing his sentence, and quickly changed his choice of words. “Political clout. Unless, of course, you join us. Someone must be able to sway the workings of the Roaman government to our plans, after all."
"But... but I've no real power in the senate," I said. "I'm a freelance orator, a spokesperson of my own. Though I sway, I'm no true official. No, that position belongs to Cicerex. I'd love to help you..." A grin crossed my lips. "Oh, yes, believe me I do. But I can only advocate the war from my current stance, and you want me to do more when I can't. Cicerex would have to resign before the post of Orator Maximus would be vacant. But he doesn't show any sign of wanting to leave, not yet."
"Hmm, so if Cicerex were removed..." Maladus mused, eyeing me expectantly.
"Then all would be well," I answered, smiling at them. "My hatred for ponykind would drive me to work with you, past all obstacles. My loyalty is to Roam, and any who don't see that Roam is limited by the presence of lesser nations must be cast aside. Even if one such person is Caesar himself."
Decarius smiled, trading glances with his fellow legate. "I see... good. Good! Then we are of like mind. A great relief. We've looked long for a fourth member, someone who would realize Caesar as he is now is acting foolish. Someone who would not squeal. For you see, Theodorus, what we of my company aim to do... well, some of it may be drastic. Can you work with that?"
"Work with it? Why, I will advocate it," I said firmly. "Evolution only happens at the precipice of a condition. If we don't push the bounds of society with extreme measures, we will stagnate. Morality is nothing but a feeble construct of lesser beings. True freedom comes from a fear of nothing."
"Then it's settled," Autherius declared, turning around and trotting to the low wall of the balcony. We all looked to him. Looking out over the city and the afternoon sun, Autherius said aloud, "Cicerex shan't be a problem, Theodorus. Count on it. After all, death comes to everyone. And he is old. None shall suspect if he were to pass away in his sleep, with a smile on his face and his heart showing no strain." He inhaled deeply and looked back to us, releasing his breath slowly into the cold air. "And then you will take his place, and we shall be complete. Us, who will have eyes and ears in every realm of Roam... we will change it. And in changing it, we shall give ourselves our rightful place as the rulers of this world."
"All for the glory of Roam," Decarius said, and the others repeated in perfect unison:
"All for the glory of Roam."
I nodded and smiled, looking between them. "So, Tetrarchs, what comes next? I had an afternoon of speeches to deliver, but if our plans dictate otherwise..."
"No, go and do them," Autherius said. "I've yet to work on neutralizing Cicerex. Give me a few days. Until then, maintain contact with us. Then we will think on how to proceed."
"But first off, let's get out of this cold," Decarius said, his stoic and reserved tone finally broken by a slight clattering of teeth. "I'm not used to it. My winters were spent near the equator, at the ocean. Being this far south is new to me."
Autherius laughed and gestured over at the entrance to the dark hall. "Go, if you wish. But I've to meet a few more contacts here before this day is over. Maladus, I suppose, must continue his work at the IFS; Theodorus will likewise be busy for the rest of the day. But me, I like it out here. Much less cold than the Alpine mountains."
"A-alright," Decarius clattered, nodding and drawing his fur-collared cloak close. "We shall keep in touch. All of you, await my contact. This time next week, I expect us to hold a first true meeting, wherein we consolidate and finalize our capital resources. Until then, farewell." And with that, Decarius stepped into the hall, followed by Maladus.
I nodded them both a farewell, but stayed behind with Autherius. "I sense an air of tension about you," I said, noticing how intensely he was staring off into the city. "Is something the matter?"
"Merely thinking of some... obstacles, and how they may be circumnavigated," he answered.
"Obstacles such as?" I prodded, trotting close.
He breathed deep. "Caesar's illegitimate son, for example. As an agent of his surrogate-father's will, he may prove to be a great challenge for us to evade if Caesar finds us out and brands us enemies. And that boy... well, he scares me. He's a very capable agent; he's the first of his class, very serious-minded and well versed in philosophy and academics despite his involvement in physical training regimes. If he catches any scent of 'treachery', well..." Autherius shuddered.
"I didn't even know Caesar had an illegitimate son," I said, surprised. "Though I suppose you would, given your position as tribune. I suppose Caesar never really thought it as necessary public information. What's his name, this boy?"
Autherius glared hard into the setting sun. "He's had many names. He used to be a tribal, you see, from some village up north, before Caesar adopted him. I recall him being called 'Veltrioux-cedan', and also once or twice as 'Veltriaeadon'. Very strange names."
"But now? What's he called?"
Autherius snorted, shaking his head. Then with a seething contempt he growled, "Veltrio."
~~~~***Roama Victrix***~~~~
I blinked. Then, with a slowness born of an after-sleep stupor, I lifted my gaze from the steel-grey floor, closing my eyes in thought.
"Hmm. Strange dream."
I shook my head, my neck letting off a few satisfying pops as I stretched. Then I noticed that all was calm inside the cabin, and that I was alone. The aircraft had landed.
"Dream?" a familiar voice asked. "I... don't think you were asleep. You were just staring off into the ground, like you were in a trance. Got a bit worried, but then, hey, I thought, 'Gah, probably just tired'."
Audrius stepped close from where he stood, beneath the bend of the open door's frame. Holding the eagle close, he planted it firmly onto the floor and leaned against it like a staff. "You were just tired, right? 'Cause that'd explain a lot. The guys and I were scared you broke or something."
I shook my head, holding back an incredulous laugh with a grin. "I'm fine, and thanks for the concern." I got up, blinking a few more times to get my head rolling. "Why'd we stop?" I asked as I looked out the doorway, where a drab and dusty concrete floor met my gaze. Sunlight lancing down from the sky cut the stone into equal parts of shadow and light, and in the latter section a legionary stood on guard, his tunic and armor radiantly reflecting the sun.
"Oh. Right. Well, it happened out of a biological need, you see..." He coughed and added, "The pilot had to take a piss."
I arched a brow. "Oh. I see. And, uh... is he done?" While surely the most basic needs had to be fulfilled before any higher tier of necessity could be pursued, this little side-trip could cost us valuable time. And considering what I was leaving behind and how relatively little time I had to get back, every single second counted.
"He should be," Audrius said. Then he frowned, looking back out the door. "Been like twenty-five minutes since he left. He ain't no mare; what the hell's taking so long?" he grumbled.
I left my seat, and as I took steps towards the outside, I asked, "You in a hurry, too? To get all this over with?"
His gaze shot to me, eyes wide as he stuttered, "H-hurry? No, no, not in a hurry... I just wanna get there already is all. Been months since I've laid down on anything more comfortable than rubber mats and shitty bunks." With a softer, self-conscious tone he added, "I... I just want a break. So tiring out here... so much pain and stress."
I shielded my eyes as I stepped free of the cabin, a warm breeze blowing against me that carried with it a musky scent of rot and age. I saw a swarm of dust motes fly by in the light as the breeze blew, and wondered how healthy it was to breathe such air. As I looked the area over, I realized that we were far above ground level: it was atop a flat-roofed building that the craft had landed. The building itself was part of a series of roadside apartment and hotel-style constructs. Our vicinity must have once served as a resting stop for intercity travelers.
I trotted near the edge of the building and looked down at the earth, about a hundred meters below. My speculations were confirmed, as aside from the other four or so buildings built next to a wide highway that cut across the land, there was nothing else in sight aside from wide open drylands, occasionally punctuated by a jutting hill or an isolated rock formation. The city of Apollania was nowhere to be seen, and neither was the city of Roam. We were right in the middle of nowhere.
The feeling of isolation made me both tense and... exhilarated. This was the outside, so big and open, with no ceilings to hold me back. I could see the sun, the colossal clouds up overhead like massive cotton balls, and the glorious blue sky above them, like an omnipresent blue curtain. I smiled, feeling wings I'd scarcely used before in my life twitch in anticipation, as if at last the dream of unhindered flight was in reach. My heart ached with the need to take off, my body cried out with the want to feel weightless and free.
All I had to do was jump, and fly... and flap harder than I had in my life so that I would never crash again. I stepped up and planted my entire body on the low wall on the edge of the building.
"Nyaha! Careful, damn it!" a voice behind me squawked, breaking me out of my elated stupor and forcing me off from the ledge. I looked over my shoulder, wide-eyed as my heart thundered and adrenaline pumped through my veins. Just up ahead, a legionary stared at me with an equally shocked pair of eyes, then swallowed and bowed his head, sighing. Then he looked back to me with a sneer.
"Well, princess is finally awake, and first thing she does is try to commit suicide," he chortled, shaking his head and giving a deep bow. "Oh, your highness, do tell your servant you've slept well! It would bring much relief to this humble guard's heart to know that you weren't broken."
"I slept well," I growled, scowling as I trotted by. I felt a seething disdain flare in me as I passed him. When was it in my life that I'd ever felt so free, so good? Barely ever, and he had to come in and destroy the moment. That fury burning in my eyes, I looked back to the outsider with clear contempt. "Now, you may cease worrying over me. I can take care of myself, my humble guard." I'd dealt with his type before. Bullies that thrived off of their victims' efforts to defend themselves. They loved feeble attempts at retaliation, just as all their ilk did. It wasn't often that I retaliated against them, but when I did I made it a point to smash down their pride and humiliate them, as they deserved.
My reply had just the intended effect: the soldier I knew as Lucius looked up to me, his expression was etched with bafflement and uncertainty. "Oh. Okay... er... good to know?" He kept quiet as I moved to the edge of the building again and looked out over the terrain with a glare, my breath steaming through flaring nostrils. He cleared his throat and said firmly, "Hey, look, pony, I was just trying to keep you safe, alright? I don't know what the hell I did to get on your nerves, but..." He paused, seeming to choke on his words. I glanced to him and saw that he was struggling with himself, his voice cracking as he cursed and shook his head.
He saw me eyeing him and let off an exasperated breath as he threw his forehooves into the air in resignation. "Fuck it," he said, then turned around and briskly trotted off, head hung low as he muttered and grumbled to himself.
I averted my gaze towards the openness of the world again. Then Audrius scampered up behind me, fumbling with the shaft of the eagle. "Ah, uh... d-don't mind him," he said behind me, as if uncertain of his choice of words. "Lucius is, uh, a bit stubborn. Set in his ways and all that; parents bred him that way. I know it wasn't much, but what you managed to get from him there was probably the closest you'll get to an apology."
I nodded. I had nothing against Lucius himself, just his deed. I knew maybe I'd overreacted. He was just trying to ensure my safety, though whether or not it was out of genuine concern or a fear for his own reputation, I didn't know. I wasn't blind to the situation. "I know," I sighed. "It's just that... well, I was just enjoying the world. Seeing it like this has... it's made me feel so free. So unshackled, unrestricted. Then he came along, limitation in another from." I hung my head.
I felt his hoof tentatively touch my shoulder, and for a moment he awkwardly groped me. "Er... there, there?" I looked to him with both brows upraised, and he withdrew. "Ah, yes, of course!" he stammered, and... was he blushing? "Yes, yes. Of course! Limitation's a terrible thing. But, well... maybe don't go too hard on him. He doesn't know what he did wrong, and frankly I don't think he really did anything wrong. Underneath his jeering and mocking exterior lays a lot of soft yoke. Go easy on him."
I nodded again, my irritation ebbing away. "Of course. I overreacted. I'll try not to let it happen again," I said, and as an afterthought I made it a quiet promise to myself. Bullying the bully was a crude way of achieving equilibrium. There were always better alternatives. The refusal to imitate was the best vengeance, after all. Wise words from Gravetanicus.
"Now, where are the others? There were eight of you, yet I see only two," I pointed out as I withdrew from the ledge. Audrius next to me, Lucius absent-mindedly wiping his helmet just a ways off... yes, very odd.
"They went looking for the pilot," Audrius replied, turning around as he slung the eagle across his shoulder. The golden idol nearly smacked me in the face as I reflexively leaned back. I glared in annoyance. Then he glanced back to me, pointing to the door of a small external construct jutting out of the roof's floor. "Down through there. Said they'd be back soon. That was like ten minutes ago, of course. I'm... I'm starting to worry." He swallowed. "It's like in those books, when the group separates and shit goes down... fuck, you think they're okay?" he asked, eyes pleading for me to say yes.
"Hey, you know them more than I do," I said, "So if you think they can handle whatever may be down there, I'll take your word for it." Then my mind conjured up all kinds of monstrosities. Zombie-ponies. Zombie-zebras. Mutants. Twisted abominations... I shuddered, my hide feeling numb from the mere thought of them. "You do think they can handle what may be down there, right?" I found myself asking with the very same paranoia he'd directed at me.
"I... I guess," he muttered, not looking too sure. I swallowed, but then smiled.
"Okay, good. Then I trust you completely," I said, and he looked up at me with... okay, I was sure he was blushing. Seeming to take notice of that occurrence as well, he averted his gaze and looked elsewhere.
"Well, nothing'll probably go wrong. Maybe the pilot just got lost or something. It can happen." He let off a dry, nervous chuckle, then stopped dead. "Oh, thank the gods they're back!" Audrius cried aloud, grinning in relief. In my peripheral vision, Lucius jumped and whirled around, then with similar relief he sighed and smiled. "But... who's that with them?
I looked past Audrius and at the door and there they were. They came out in single file, with a bruised and dirtied zebra in a lighter-looking set of legionary armor leading the way. I assumed he was the pilot. Then I noticed that he'd brought a beaten and filthy zebra mare with him, his teeth in her mane as he dragged her along with a scowl as she whimpered and struggled. Not like she could've gotten away even if she let her mane get torn off. No, the six legionaries directly behind the pair wouldn't have stood for it, not the way they too were scowling and glaring at her.
The pilot yanked her along and shoved her ragged form to the ground, making her cry in pain. "Fucking bitch nearly killed me!" the pilot panted, drawing a pistol from a holster on his hip. "Damn near took my cock off, too. Was just trying to have a nice piss in a decent bathroom when she came charging at me like a madmare! If it weren't for the gods-damned razor I found on the fucking floor, I'd be lying on the dirt with my neck twisted a full circle!"
"And gods, she can take a stab," one of the legionaries growled as we gathered around. I took in the mare's details, from her purposefully intricately-designed and color-edged torn clothing to the beaded necklaces she wore, to the swirling tattoos on her limbs. Blood seeped down her side from a jagged wound cut into her flesh, and her face was a bloodied mess full of bruises as she lay on the floor, panting. A part of me felt sorry for her, but mercy and forgiveness wasn't mine to give. "Still tried to run even with the damned razor in her gut. Fucking insane."
Audrius shook his head, grimacing at the tale and the mare laying on the floor in front of him. "Jupiter almighty... it took all seven of you to stop her?" he asked, then got a many set of pointed looks that made him wince and step back.
"Yes, it did!" another of the legionaries yelled, his shoulder guards twisted out of place. "She nearly broke my foreleg just trying to get out from under me. I swear to the gods, she has has the agility of a fucking snake. I've never seen anything twist and curve like that."
The others muttered and nodded in agreement, all the while casting the beaten mare seething glances. Then the pilot stepped forward and pressed his pistol to her head. My breath left my lungs, my eyes focusing on the gleaming metal of the barrel as an instinctive tension welled up within me. "Well, forget all that. Enough antics. We'll make an example of this one," he said, squeezing the trigger. But his shot went wild as I bucked the gun from out of his grip, inadvertently shoving him down. I froze, and as all eyes went to me it was all I could do to stand my ground and defend my... well, my impulse.
"That's not happening," I said firmly, narrowing my gaze to meet the bewildered eyes of the pilot and the legionaries. Lucius stood off to the side, eyeing me and his fellow comrades with wide eyes. Audrius I knew was behind me, though what he was doing I wasn't sure.
"What the fuck do you mean, you colored S-O-B?" the pilot growled as he snapped up, eyes blazing. "Didn't you just hear what we said? She nearly fucking killed me! And them! If we let her go, then she'll just go to whatever damned tribe she came from and squeal on us." Lunging close, he hissed quietly, "Damn it, this mission's supposed to be secret. We can't let anyone find us, no matter who they are or what they might think. They're craftier than they look, for fuck's sake. They'll find a way to follow us."
I just shook my head, noticing that the mare was inching her way close to me, whimpering and wheezing. It was with great pity that I met her halfway, stepping between her and the legionaries she assaulted. "Perhaps," I said, and swallowed as my mind raced to think of something to say. Then her forelegs wrapped around my hind leg, and suddenly all that mattered was that I keep her safe. "But she's neutralized now. To kill her would be utterly disgusting. You have honor, don't you? A code of conduct? Let us take her along. If she's no enemy, there's nothing to fear. If she is, then you can get information out of her. Is that not better?"
"What's better is she gets what she fucking deserves!" the pilot erupted, a murderous glare in his eyes as he pointed the gun at me. But he couldn't pull it, and I knew that. Nonetheless, the sight of the barrel stopped my heart until he growled and jerked it back. "Sweet Nemesis, why the hell do you care so much? She's a savage, for Jupiter's sake."
I shook my head, licking my lips. "Savage or no, she's a person. And whether or not either of you like it, she's also Roaman. Justice should equal the wrong done. None of you died, and so she should not die. She has suffered as you have. That is fair."
I turned around and helped her to her legs. She stumbled, the bleeding in her side not slowing, but at least it wasn't flowing too fast. Just a good few bandages and she'd be fine. Her eyes looked out at me from behind swollen lids, her gaze filled with disbelief as I moved beside her and helped carry her weight. She was filthy and smelled the part, but I didn't care. She may have been a wastelander, but she was a person. That was all that mattered to me as I moved us over to the aircraft's open doorway. "We should get going," I said. I could feel all of their eyes on me, aghast. "We've delayed longer than we should have."
There was a chorus of growls and sighs and more than a few 'fucks' as they holstered their guns and reluctantly came along. For a moment I was scared they'd lunge at me from behind, but it didn't happen. The pilot stomped and kicked at the dirt, cursing and bucking at the air. Then he shot me a prolonged glare and made his way to the cockpit. I moved forward into the cabin, the others behind me as I gently laid her on the seat opposite mine. Then I smiled.
"No more death today," I whispered, laying my head back and relaxing as I basked in the righteous pride of my actions. "No more today. Thank you, Jupiter."
Then we heard a roar.
My eyes shot open, and like all of the others I gazed outside. A manticore had appeared from beneath the edge of the building. We all froze and stared at it, its jaw open to reveal a set of monstrously long fangs. It was an immense creature that was covered with thick, wiry hair all over, with a lion's body, wide, bat-like wings, and a long scorpion's tail. As it prowled closer, we noticed a zebra riding atop it. We also noticed that he just so happened to be dressed exactly like the mare he was staring at in horror.
"Nunia?" he asked, mouth dropped. Then he looked to both sides of the cabin, at the legionaries. "No, no, no..." He shook his head, then let out a shrill, howling cry that pierced my ears. All I heard when it was over where responding cries off in the distance, and the unmistakable roar of manticores.
"Oh, fuck!" Lucius brought his rifle to bear and opened fire, sending a stream of bullets lancing through the air and straight into the manticore's shoulder. The creature howled and reared, then charged forward as more legionaries let off a cacophony of gunshots that deafened me in the metal space. Their weapons did little to stop the animal's rage, and the manticore slammed straight into the rear of the craft, head popping into the cabin and snapping at the closest soldier.
With an agonized cry, the soldier was pulled out of the craft. The manticore tore at him with its powerful jaw. Then he was tossed away, and the beast leapt aside as more legionaries brought their weapons out to fire. As it jumped out of view, the zebra mounting the creature quickly tossed in a tiny metal canister. Then I heard the pilot scream as the manticore went for him, too.
The canister clinked and clanked off of several legionary helmets, then landed squarely on my lap. I froze and looked down at it, my heart like an overworked drum as I eyed its tiny form with horror. I didn't need to be told what it was for me to know.
"Grenade!" Audrius screeched, and then he yanked me from my seat as they barged out of the cabin like maniacs, leaving the mare behind. I wasn't even able to try drag her along as well as we launched out into the air, landing and falling to the ground, prone and with our hooves over our heads. But though we waited for seconds that felt like an eternity, no explosion went off.
One of the legionaries lifted his head from the dirt, glancing back. "What the hell...?"
But his attempt to discern what had just happened was interrupted by a heavy thud as a manticore landed in front of us, maw wide open and roaring. We jerked back, the soldiers struggling to get their weapons up when another one of the flying beasts crashed right behind us. They stumbled, some falling to the ground and pulling others down with them. And all I could do was fall as well: I, who could contribute nothing in our defense. I felt useless, like mere decoration, as another emerged from beneath roof-level and flew in a circle above us. Each of the three animals was mounted with a tribal zebra rider, and each one of them looked very pissed.
The legionaries twisted and turned, rifles pointed at our attackers. Then the zebra riders pulled forth long wooden spears, and suddenly I found myself crouching low with one of the spearpoints right between my eyes. I swallowed, grimacing and slowly getting up. We weren't outnumbered, but we were completely surrounded. To retaliate would not go well for us.
The manticore leapt back into view, bloodied but mostly unharmed. The zebra stallion mounted on its back looked us over disdainfully, then looked into the cabin. His eyes widened, and he jumped off his beast and galloped in. A few moments later he and the mare were clambering out, and the stallion's eyes were filled with seething tears of rage as he held her close.
"Animals!" he shouted, bending his heel to crouch on the dirt, the bloodied, swollen mare panting at his side. "You attack my sister-scout? Fine! Do like you all do -- kill, torture, destroy... but you’ll get it back." Holding a vial of glass to the zebra mare’s lips, he glowered, "Kill them, friend-riders. Skewer them like hogs. Start with limbs, then guts, then heads."
The wooden spear-point right between my eyes pressed hard against my nose bridge, making me yelp and jerk back. My efforts only served to crash me against Lucius and Audrius as they too evaded the spears. I felt blood roll down the sides of my muzzle as we were herded close, cursing and shouting. Then one of the legionaries dropped his gun and threw his hooves into the air.
"Hey! Hey, no taking prisoners? You'll just kill us on the spot? That's damned murder, however you look at it," the legionary called. The zebra narrowed his gaze, teeth bared in a fierce scowl. Then the legionary swallowed as one of the manticores growled in his face. "And... and to be fair, she, uh, she attacked us first," he stuttered. "Just trying to get on our own business, us. The pilot stopped for a little, er... bathroom trip. Then she came along and tried to kill him."
I stood still as stone, my own hooves up in the air as my eyes darted to glance to the side. Speaking of the pilot... it seemed he wasn't in any fit condition to fly us anywhere. Or to breathe. Or to live. I slumped, eyeing the mangled corpses of the pilot and the legionary as they lay still in a spreading pool of blood. Well, shit. How to escape now?
The stallion's glare wavered, and he looked to the mare. "True? You attack them first?" he asked, tone gentle. She nodded, looking us over with an intense gaze of her own. "Why?"
The effort to talk seemed to hurt her, but she got her words out. "Roaman zebras kill tribes. Roaman zebras destroy freedom," she rasped, disgustedly glaring at us. "Roaman zebras attack us and take homes. Friends in Apollania will never return, can't talk to them anymore..." Her gaze turned sorrowful. "Roaman zebras take and give nothing back. Roaman zebras recruit, then mistreat. Roaman zebras promise, then break promise." She sniffled, a tear running down her cheek. "We tribes have only suffered, brother-rider. Now I want them to know how it feels to lose something they love."
He nodded, looking us over again. "I know, sister-scout. And I shall make them feel pain, slowly. But no deaths. No, death no fun at all." He looked over at one of us in particular and stood. Then he stepped close and pulled out from behind him a jaggedly-bladed shiv. The saw-like weapon’s handle was attached to a small black plate that automatically threw straps around his forehoof, allowing unrestricted use. It was a common device, used by the zebra military during the war to adopt weapons for hoof-held use, as many zebra cultures had its warriors do. It was one of the few things Roaman and tribal cultures had in common, using that device, the so-called ‘combat-bracer’ -- the epitome of hundreds of years of ramshackle, cobbled-together hoof apparatus. I hadn’t paid much attention to it on the Legion’s soldiers, nor did I ever treat them with any particular attention in the centuria urbanae. But now, with a cruel-looking blade in the hooves of one such as that, I found myself truly acknowledging its utility, and also cursed whoever gave this tribal the means to effectively handle such wicked armaments.
"In fact..." he drawled, "We can start their suffering by taking their dearest possession. You make foolish move to come out here with your people's golden eagle."
Audrius gasped, hugging the Aquila close and tight. Suddenly the legionaries' gladii were out, their own red-plated, silver-stringed combat-bracers automatically latching onto the sword handles as they drew them out. Then their shields locked together. I was sandwiched in the middle as they huddled close, forming a tight circle that squashed me breathless. I struggled to inch out some breathing room, which resulted in a legionary stepping out and letting me fall flat on the ground before filling the void I'd left in their formation. I made the effort to crawl forward, away from them -- it was my hope that I'd be overlooked, clearly not being a legionary. But it seemed that being a pony all the more earned me their attention, for two of the three spears immediately struck at both my wings, piercing the thin flesh and feathers. I yelped and stumbled, and the mare flinched as she looked at me.
Opposite my position outside the circle, the stallion laughed in glee. "Oh, I love prey that fights. Much more interesting!" He entered a tense crouch. "Now, what’s it they say? Oh yes. 'Neutralize them'," he said, then repeated with a nod to his fellows, "Neutralize them!"
Then he vanished in a blur as he jumped high, bypassing the shields entirely and landing right in the midst of the soldiers. Audrius was kicked down, falling to the ground and shoving one of his own comrades in the process. The formation broke as the legionaries rushed to face their opponent, only to be skewered from behind by the spears, the points stabbing right into their legs and sides but not actually killing them. Metal clanged on metal, steel flashed bright as blades slashed and stabbed.
Yet, the tribal was elusive, possessing agility too great for his opposition to match as he ducked and whirled, kicked and punched, slashed and stabbed. And as the legionaries fell to the ground one by one, their cries and grunts driving me to desperation, I made one more attempt to crawl away, my wings bleeding profusely. Then I was grabbed by the hindlegs and yanked back, my face hitting the cement and aggravating my bloody muzzle.
I was rolled over in a daze and felt the sharp sting of a knife at my throat. The sneering face of the tribal was right in front of me, laughing a high-strung chuckle of utter glee. Behind him, the seven legionaries lay on the floor, bleeding and groaning as the three riders and their beasts picked through them with spear and claw alike.
"Ah! A pony. Why there pony here, hmm? Strange for Legion to have someone like you with them. Claim to be Roaman government, they do. Why, then, have enemy of all zebras in transport?" he asked, pressing the wicked shiv closer to my flesh after every question. I felt a warm liquid that could only have been the legionaries' blood on its edge, and wondered if he hadn't already cut me.
"Look well fed, too. Healthy, like zebras in pictures during war. Not like us now, all sick and radiated. Even Legion soldiers get sick quickly." He pushed the blade against my chin, making me arc my neck backwards such that my nose was scraping against the rough stone. Blood from my brow flowed into my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to see the mare there, sitting on the ground, looking right at me. Her name was Nunia, if I recall. I guess she and I didn't look so different now. "Why you with them, pony?"
I grunted as my weight bore down on my bleeding wings. The sting from the appendages was agonizing. "I... I was just supposed to bring a message. I'm a messenger, alright?" I swallowed as the sharp tip of the shiv met my throat, rotating there like some kind of drill.
"And what message are you carrying?" he asked.
Even in my state, I thought it over. Whoever these people were, they clearly didn't like the Legion. Thus, they were the Legion's enemies, and the message I bore was crucial Legion information. But they knew Apollania had been taken already; Nunia's friends had died there, after all. Still... what if Thanus was wrong and Apollania simply couldn't be taken just like that? What if these people actually had no knowledge of the recent battle, and that the death of Nunia's friends had been long before?
"I am to act as ambassador for a tribe down... down south," I lied. "They want Legion help. Wildlife comes at them unceasingly, and they have asked for the threat to be destroyed."
I heard the tribal smirk with satisfaction. I heard Audrius let off a gurgling protest from out of sight, and a moment later I heard a sound akin to the snapping of bone. He screamed. Then a zebra stepped in front of my view, the golden shaft of the Aquila planting itself right in front of my face.
"I take that," said Shiv-Bearer, and the shaft disappeared from view. Then my head was yanked upright and I faced him directly as he sat there in front of me, shiv in one hoof and Aquila in the other. "Down south, you say? This tribe... there more ponies in it?"
"Er... yes?"
He grinned wide. "Good! More ponies to take and make as pets! So nice to be greeted every morning with ocean of multi-colored slaves. So lovely!" He chuckled as he withdrew the blade from my neck, and I smiled in relief. Then my eyes popped wide as he brought out a metal collar linked to a chain and clicked it around my neck. Wait a second. He said slaves? Did that mean... that I...
"Now, get up!" he said as he kicked me off the ground. "We take you back with us. All of you. Father-Shaman surely will be pleased to know what I've done, and will delight on thinking how to make you all suffer. He has more creative mind than me, you see," he said as he looked to the pounded legionaries, all bloodied and glaring and panting. Then he turned and, dragging me along by the chain on my neck, mounted his manticore again. I fumbled madly at the collar, squirming and yanking, to no avail.
"Get on manticore, pony. Unless you like flying with your body dangling," he laughed, tugging at the chain hard and ramming me right against his beast's side. I jerked back fearfully, casting a glance back at the zebras who were to be my protectors and silently begging them to stop this. I didn't want to be a slave, for Jupiter's sake! Help me, you guys. Stop them, damn it. Do something, please!
"Erm... brother-rider, perhaps not this one," the mare said weakly, staggering up off the floor and limping over to her brother. My eyes bulged expectantly; yes, please say something to stop this! I'll owe you my whole life, whatever it's worth! "He is different from most. Perhaps you can let this one go?" she requested, blackened eyes glancing between me and him.
But to my immense disappointment the stallion just barked a laugh. "Ha! All the more to take him. Different you say; exotic you mean!" He grinned down at me and yanked me up onto the beast's back. My breath left me as a numbing pain surged through my groin, sending me slumping forward like limp meat as my eyes rolled into my skull and my hooves went between my legs. Okay... just hope the damage wasn't too severe...
"Okay! We all go now, friend-riders. Take Roaman zebras along unharmed." He casted a quick glance to all the other three, on whose beasts the seven legionaries rode, bound and gagged and bleeding. Some seemed unconscious. Then he hastily yanked my beaten, dirtied saddlebags off of my hips and tossed it on his lap. All my food was in there. And my water. Also the map of Roam...
"Alright. Hya!"
With a curt kick into the manticore's side, the creature was off, flying into the air. Wind smacked my face as I fought down the maddening sensation of my injured treasure, and behind me the other three manticores took flight. Then the stallion pulled out another metal canister and tossed it over at the abandoned aircraft.
A second later a bright flame exploded from underneath the vehicle, consuming the metal in an intense inferno. The old cement beneath the aircraft gave and split open, sending the metal hulk crashing down into the building with a terrific cascade of noise. Then another fiery blast exploded from within the structure as the vehicle was destroyed in a blast of fire and heat.
And all I could do was watch, my body limp and numb and bleeding as fire lit up windows and broke down old concrete. It wasn't long until the uppermost floor of the building caved in, and the second collapsed under the weight. Then the next, and the next, and the next... until at last it was nothing but a smoldering wreck of stone, burning to a blackened corpse as we flew further and further off to gods knew where. And as the destruction ended a throng of victorious cries rang out from the zebras as they flew their mounts close to give each other hoof-bumps.
That was it, then. We were finished. A life of enslavement was to be my future, captured like a prized hog at a contest, ever to be treated like a sub-being. Our mission would never succeed, and the consequences of that failure could be severe. Death or worse awaited my companions, and all for the sadistic glee of our captors. And bound in chains and rope we flew further from any hope of escape, our bodies weakened and aching from abuse. We were utterly, truly fucked.
Unless...
As the numbing agony of my broken jewels ebbed away and the regular sting of my cuts and bruises came in and reminded me I was still alive, I dared to grip tightly on the beast's torso, my head laying on its furry hide as my eyes scanned the landscape. Please, I prayed to gods whose existences I didn't believe in, If there's even a hint of truth to your reality, let there be something here that can help me.
My eyes strained, picking out every last detail of the land below as we flew further and further off. Something, anything, that could help. Please, let there be anything that could give us a chance...
And then I spotted it: a bridge, low in height and simple in make. It connected two roads that snaked across the hilly drylands, and beneath it was a winding, gleaming river. It was shallow near the banks, though. Very shallow. But the middle-waters were deep enough. Perhaps deep enough to save a falling pony from death...
I moved my body to the side of the manticore, risking sliding off before the moment was right. This had to be timed perfectly. A second too early and I'd hit the shallows; a second too late and I could miss the river entirely. My pitiful excuses of wings would need to work just this once. If not to fly, then to steer me. If my captor holding my metal leash had any sense, he'd let me go or fall with me to both our demise.
We flew right over the river. There was nothing else to do. I kicked off, free-falling for a mere moment before my chain tugged tight at my neck and choking me mid-air. I focused all my energy on creating breathing room with my forehooves as the tribal screamed in surprise, his body leaning dangerously over the edge of his mount.
"P-pony! You idiot, you kill us both! I know you can't fly; we pierced your wings! You idiot!"
My vision was edged with darkness as I struggled and panted for breath, my hind legs flailing and catching on the manticore's side. My heart ached and thumped to gather enough strength to plant both hindlegs on the creature and extend my body to its limit, pulling the stallion ever further from his seat. He cried in alarm, and through my tear-streaked eyes I could see his friends were rushing to his help him.
No! They weren't going to stop me now. This was where my wings would make the difference! Extending my wings wide open, I flapped hard, creating an air current that inched him further and further off his seat. His grip on the beast's fur was loosening; damn it, he had to give up soon! He had to! I flapped like a maniac, shouting into the winds as every muscle of my body burned for freedom, never again to be chained or limited. Flap my wings! Kick my legs! Pump my heart! Freedom... through... pain!
He shouted and let my chain loose. Suddenly, all the tension left my body as my muscles relaxed, and I plummeted to the earth, almost curled into a ball. It was so easy, relaxing. No pain, no strain. I was almost tempted to just leave my survival to the chance, that I'd land on my mark. But no. I'd come too far to leave it to chance.
Ignoring my captors as they shouted above me, I tore my eyes open and forced my wings apart. The immediate air resistance smashed into my wings like stones, snapping the joints out of place with an agonizing pop. I screamed and I cried, tears of agony and desperation sliding upwards across my temples as I focused on the water below me. Just... hit the mark! Just land... in... the water!
With the very last of all my will, I gave a single hard flap that evoked such mind-shattering pain and exhaustion that I couldn't even scream. My heart had given out, as had my mind. I simply passed out right in the air, plummeting towards the river below like an artillery shell. But before the last vestiges of my consciousness faded into the darkness, I heard a distant shout of alarm below that silenced as I crashed into something that most definitely wasn't water.
***Roama Victrix***
I awoke with a torrent of water running by my face, soaking my cheek as I groaned and lifted my head up off of the clammy rocks. My head throbbed with the thunder of thousand drums, and my heart felt strained with every beat that pumped through my chest. Everything else was nothing but dull pain, and my limbs and torso ached like every muscle had been pulled, which was exactly what must've happened. And my wings... oh, my wings. I didn't need to lift a hoof or even glance back at them to know that they were broken and dislocated. The strange numbness that encompassed their entirety told me all, as did the searing pain that burned in the joints as I slowly folded them back in.
They'd bought my life with their own. I was alive... but at what cost? I let out a tiny wretched sob and dunked my head back into the water as I suffered through the pain of folding them in. If any goodness in all existence allowed them to work even after all that, then I'd truly believe gods existed. But for now I could only cry to myself and languish as my hopes and dreams of flight lay broken, just like me. It wasn't fair, wasn't fair at all, to tempt a being with freedom only to snatch it from them with cruel circumstance. But at least I was alive, right? Alive and broken, yes. Broken and flightless. A flightless, broken... living... pegasus. Yay...
Then I felt the ground beneath me move. It wasn't a vibration like that of a tremor. No, it was as if the earth had breathed, and its rising soil had pressed up right against my chest. At first I thought that maybe I'd just imagined it, but then it happened again, more noticeable this time as the numbness of my body ebbed away.
I lifted my head up from the water entirely and looked down at the unconscious face of a pony stallion... with stripes? A zebra pony? A… a zony?
My eyes widened as I realized I'd crashed right into him. He may very well have saved from the shallows I'd have plummeted straight into, but I'd knocked him out cold with my landing. I was grateful for the fortunate (or unfortunate) chance of his presence, sure, but would he be alright?
I very carefully moved my legs and lifted myself off of the stallion and out of our very... awkward positioning. But not even a moment passed after I lifted my weight off of him when his eyes opened wide and stared off into the underside of the bridge with brilliant indigo irises. He felt my weight on him and looked right into my eyes. An awkward silence ensued. Yes... two stallions, alone beneath a bridge, wet all over... oh, the thoughts that would come to anyone's mind.
The zony, with his odd light-blue coat and faint white stripes and jet-black mane and tail, was the first to speak. "Pony, you disgruntle me greatly," he said with clear annoyance, his face bearing the irritated expression of one who was on business before some annoying obstacle came in their way. "Vox Populi finds your intervention a most unfortunate event. Vox Populi demands you withdraw from him."
I immediately drew myself up and pulled away, grunting as pain shocked though my limbs. "I... I am sorry. I was simply in a lot of trouble, and, well... I didn't expect to hit anyone in my escape. My apologies, er... what's your name?"
"Name?" he asked, confused as he lay there, stretching his limbs. He squinted. "I... do not have one. A name is a given designation, if I am correct. Then I have none, for there is only what I am, and what I embody. I am the Vox Populi, the people's voice in this rotting realm of matter and energy."
I rose a brow and took a tiny step back. Okay, so he was delusional. I supposed it was to be expected in the wasteland, but his demeanor still struck me as something that was uniquely odd. Third-person reference, lack of a name, 'identities of embodiment'... all that sounded like the ramblings of a maniac.
He stood up with a huff, dusting himself off and shaking the water off him. "Vox Populi finds your tale most odd. And similar. Vox Populi himself has recently escaped trouble... and what great trouble it was." He scowled as he shook the last of the water off his hoof. Then he looked right at me, his indigo eyes blazing with curiosity. "You, pony? What circumstance have you escaped from in this... static, unchanging world?"
"I, uh... well..." It stuck in my throat a moment, the sheer gravity of what exactly it was that I'd just eluded bearing down on me. If I'd not seen that bridge... if I'd let the depression take me... I truly would be have become a slave. "I... just escaped being made into a... a slave. At least that's what I think I just did. I doubt that zebra was joking about the whole 'ocean of colored slaves' thing." I shook my head, shuddering. It was a wonderful thing that tribal hadn’t come swooping down to retrieve me. He probably thought I’d died. Considering how very close it’d come, I’d have thought it too.
His eyes widened as he looked at me. "You've liberated yourself from a fate most foul before it could take root? Why, that is most excellent! Just like what I managed to do; curse that horrid creature and the torment he puts all those souls through!" he growled, stomping on the rocky ground with a very audible crack of stone.
I swallowed as he snarled and cursed to himself. I had no idea who he was talking about, and considering he was probably insane, and that there were probably no souls being tormented, I didn't care.
"Eh. Yes. I did," I muttered, then sighed and sat, leaning on my leg as I watched the water run by. What I'd just put myself through had left me tired. So very tired, so achy and sore... and so lost. What to do now? What direction to go? I had no compass, no supplies, no map... all those had been taken from me. I had nothing but a goal, and the rushing need to complete it as each day I spent away from home increased the chance of unrest. Oh, I could just imagine the sorts of questions my people were ready to ask, and the accusations they would be prepared to toss about. The chaos that would ensue would be terrible.
And I would be the cause of it all if it came to be.
I covered my face and whimpered, choking back a scream of anguish and frustration. Nothing I'd learned, no training I'd endured, could have prepared me for this. No philosophical quote could compel me to do... anything! No quote or inspiration I'd ever cherished could have prepared me for the brutal paralysis that indecision could summon. And no, I couldn't simply let impulse rule. I needed a plan, I needed a direction; something with an obvious connection to the goal I had to accomplish. But what? I knew nothing of the outside, of the people or the place. Was I to simply wander off like a nomad and hope that the one-in-a-million chance of stumbling upon my goal would become a reality, despite the odds? Was I to simply exist, walking day after day until I starved? No! But I couldn't just... I could never...
I tore both forehooves away from my face and slammed them into the ground, infusing my strike with all the rage and distress I could muster. Though my aching limbs cried out in protest, I struck again and again, grinding my teeth as I pounded the rocks with utter hatred.
Vox had long-since gotten over his own frustration and was now watching me, staring as my fury came to an end and I sat there, panting and breathing in shuddering breaths. "Hmm. Pony is distressed as well, I see. Why? Have you not escaped your terrible fate? Is that not something to rejoice over?"
"You don't understand!" I snapped, glaring back at him. "Every second I'm gone, my home's chances of surviving in this poisoned world shrinks. To get back, I have to accomplish a goal; I can't simply return without finishing it. But the people who were to accompany me are captured, ready to be tortured and executed for the fun of those damned slavers..."
Vox Populi paused. "Others? Captured? Slavers?" He stepped into view as I thumped my head, struggling to gather my wits. "In what direction were they taken?"
I shrugged, shaking my head with exhausted nonchalance. I flopped my hoof lazily off in the direction the manticores had been flying. "There, somewhere... but much as I'd love to save them, I can't. I'm one pony, with little true combat experience. I'd be killed effortlessly, and my corpse would be used to... to decorate some savage's room or something." I sighed, ashamed of myself. Perhaps if I'd not stalled and just let the pilot take that mare's life, we'd be flying off to Roam already. Now seven legionaries were to be tortured because of me. Stupid, stupid Goldwreath...
"You can't save them with that attitude, pony," he deadpanned, then yanked me up. "Nor can you do it alone. I can rectify that; the attitude is up to you. Now come. We will find these slavers, and we will destroy them." He started trotting off, to my complete shock.
"W-what? No! You can't just wander into a dryland, not knowing anything and just expect to... to succeed!"
"I can and I shall," he said, still trotting forward briskly. "I need no tool, no supplies, to make the scum of this world feel justice's burn. No innocent shall suffer again while the Vox Populi brings with him the fury of a million enraged souls, all crying out for retribution. Now, you are either with me, or you shall stay here and rot. The choice is yours."
I shook my head, mouth agape. Then I scrunched up my face and let out an exasperated cry as I galloped after him. He had already reached ground level, having hiked a slope beneath the bridge, and was trotting simply into the open lands, off in the direction I'd gestured. He didn't hang his head low for fear of being sighted, nor did he rush for cover of bushes or rocks. His straightforwardness was so blunt it stumped all my attempts to decipher it.
The only thing left to do was to follow him, this... 'Vox Populi'. That and hoping beyond hope that we'd get somewhere. It was a fool's hope that we'd find the tribal's encampment, let alone succeed in saving the legionaries, if they yet lived. It was a fool's hope that we'd not die of thirst and hunger under the sun, or be shot by raiders or other such savages in our aimless wandering.
But, despite everything, it was a hope... and was a better motivation than anything I could think of at the moment. It was either follow, or wander alone. The choice was clear.
"I hope you know what you're doing," I said anxiously as we moved along.
"I do. We will make an example of them. They will feel justice, and it will be a glorious moment when they do," he replied firmly, smiling reassuredly.
"Sure, sure..." was all I could murmur in reply. Yes, yes, sure they would 'feel the burn of justice'. But first there was quite a bit of dryland to cross. Miles... and miles... and miles of it, in fact. All of it hot. All of it strange and without any clear landmarks. Nothing but daunting, unrestrained size.
Oh, how puny I felt in that vast open space.
Entry #5 Defender. So that's what mother calls me now. Haha, it's a fine title, I suppose... a bit excessive, but then mother always did fear insects quite a bit. She's asked me to defend her from 'all those nasty crawlies'. Well, I am happy to oblige. I'll do right by her, as I will do by everyone.
All companions gain an Endurance point in your presence, and have a 20% chance of taking no damage from a would-be killing strike.
Chapter VI Slaves to the Past "Those who do not learn from the past are condemned to repeat it."
The wasteland was a beautiful place, full of color and diverse landscapes. It was a place of excitement, good and bad; really, not a single day could be boring if only one stepped out of the safety of shelter. Whether that's a foolish act or an adventurous one is up for debate. But the only certainty is that there is an infinite amount of things about the great world outside to appreciate, and to fear. But why focus on the bad? Why highlight the bleakness when you can focus on the bright, sunny, and radiant?
Well, aside from the negatives being an apparently near-constant threat to your life and thus a fundamentally integral part of the wasteland, the answer was simple: because the bright, sunny, radiant side of things was fucking hot.
"How the hell did I not think to drink up before leaving that damned river..." I panted, my tongue lolling out as we trekked along the blistering, cracking land. The radiance of the sun was a sweat-inducing, grime-forming nuisance. "Worst mistake I've made today," I grumbled, especially irritated at how Vox himself did not seem fazed by the heat at all. In fact he didn't care much about my plight; he was lost in his own 'problems'.
"These shrubs disturb Vox Populi," he declared, imperiously gesturing to a pile of dead plants as we trotted along. Above us, an eagle sang its majestic note across the sky. The sound did two things: one, it compounded the feeling of how utterly blasted and barren the landscape was; two, it sparked a great envy in me that such creatures could fly and escape this parched land, while I could not. "They stay still, swaying only to the breeze. In Vox Populi's plane they morph ever-constantly, looking like the disturbed reflection of water. And the ground... it forever possess the imprint of all who walk it. This world is so... solid. Reactionary, but with logic."
With a grin he said aloud, "I like it!"
"Well, I'm so glad you do," I said with mock cheerfulness, then let out a hot huff of air as I licked my chapped lips and wiped my brow. Forget letting my frustration out on him. I needed water and shade, fast. It'd only been fifteen minutes since we left the bridge behind, and already my dehydrated and sore body demanded a rest, and no force of will would make it allow me to abuse it further. "S-stop."
I ceased trotting, sweat cascading down every inch of my body and landing on the dry earth beneath me. Somehow I had the feeling my perspiration was the most moisture the soil had had in a long time. Vox stopped as well and turned, eyeing me confusedly.
"Stop? Why?" he asked, then glanced behind him at the miles of open, blistering field. "We have not yet annihilated the scum who captured your companions. Does the urgency of your goal and the fleetingness of their lives not compel you to stride ever on?"
"Yes, yes, of course they do," I replied, swallowing down the last of my saliva to ease my parched throat. "But I can't do anything if I'm dead." I looked up and around, panting for breath and feeling the precious water leaving my body in ticklish, salty drops. "Water... need water... and shade..."
He rolled his eyes and sat plainly on the burning sand. "Very well. We shall stop here and drink the earth and turn the light of the sun into blackness. Then when we've rested enough we may invoke spirits to put life once more into the bodies of your dead comrades." Shaking his head, he muttered, "Such weakness..."
I growled under my breath, but took the opportunity to rest however I could. My legs screamed in burning agony as I bent them to lay beneath the relative shade of a dead bush. The underside of my body was coated with searing sand as my sweat matted them to me, but it was better than completely exposing myself to the radiance of the sun.
Looking at me in my state of dehydrated weakness, he said, "You confuse Vox Populi. You go through much to earn freedom, yet now that you have it you bend to such forces as light and heat? They are mere elements of this strange plane. Vox Populi was lead to believe the sentients of this realm have mastered the art of science -- that is, they have learned to control such nuisances. Yet here you are, testimony to the weaknesses of your body as it is assaulted by nature."
I let out a ragged, high-strung laugh. "Good gods. Now I see why my friends tell me to tone down my vocabulary. If this is actually what I sound like to them, I suppose I really should." I sighed and breathed deep, drawing my limbs into the shade to escape the heat. "Look, I don't know why you're not thirsting for water or groaning in pain after how hard I hit you, but I am thirsty. I am in pain. It's strange that you feel neither." As I said this, I realized everything about Vox Populi, from the way he spoke to the way he looked, was peculiar. I supposed if I just labeled him as 'crazy' and left it at that, I'd not mind any of it. But he just didn’t seem like the typical lunatic. Maybe he wasn't where he came from.
"Where are you from?" I asked, looking right at him. "You speak of this world as if you're not from it. Strange bushes and odd soil... what?"
He shrugged. "'Tis a topic not so important. There are other things that require my thought aside from explaining it to you creatures." But after a moment he added with a drawl, "I would, however, concede to speaking of it if you believe in different planes of creation. Such belief would remove much of the tedious explanation required otherwise."
"You mean... like the spirit-world and Tartarus and the like?" I asked, and he nodded. "Well a philosopher's mind should be open. I consider myself one, if only because I've been called that. But to cut it short... no, not really. Not in the sense that they're above reason and logic. Me, I like to think that all 'ghosts' and 'specters' and 'gods' and the like all have some reason behind them. That they're simply phenomena that we've yet to understand."
"Hmm. Phenomena." He squinted. "It's an odd word, when Vox Populi listens to it. All sounds created by this fleshy throat is strange to me. Phe-no-me-na: 'an fact or situation that is observed to have happened or exist'. Does that not make you and Vox Populi phenomena, then? It is a fact that we exist, and it is a fact that we collided into one another. Therefore, I conclude that we, and all that occurs to us, are just phenomena."
"I suppose," I replied with a shrug. "What are you getting at?"
His expression hardened, his brows furrowing as he said in a lecturing tone, "Existence is a phenomenon. Vox Populi is. You are -- and so are all things. Does that not seem to connect them together, somehow? Amidst the obvious differences between rage and joy, black and white, life and death, is that not a binding factor?"
"Well, when you put it that way..."
"It is," he insisted, drawing close and continuing with utter surety, "All things are connected on a deeper level of existence. Have no doubt about that. Now, what if I told you that this deeper plane, this progenitor realm from which the fundamentals of all creation are derived, exists all around you? That within it, all things are brought into being by thought, and not by any physical process? That all things manifest an idea or concept? For example: Honor. Greed. Vengeance. And, like myself, Justice."
I rose an eyebrow and stayed silent for a long moment. "Okay. I can understand the whole 'voice of the people' thing as maybe the product of some psychological or societal... condition. But are you really suggesting that you're the incarnation of Justice itself?"
He nodded. "A incarnation of Justice, yes. Vox Populi walks this world with righteous intent."
I stared forward flatly, not for a single second believing it. He was no bloodthirsty raider or some other savage, which was good. But why, out of all the many people, in the wasteland, was the first non-hostile wastelander I met a disillusioned lunatic?
"Well then, I'm glad to have such a feared and righteous being like you in my company," I intoned, rolling my eyes.
The intended sarcasm wasn't noticed. Instead, he grinned. "Good! With your help, Vox Populi may yet cleanse this world of its scum before seeking out the foul abomination from whose corroded mind my essence was born." Clopping his hooves together and then laying his chin onto them, he added in a mutter, "First, we shall rescue his comrades. Then perhaps set off for... somewhere. His destination, perhaps? Gah, the need to name places here vexes me terribly."
I shook my head, but couldn't help smiling. Lunatic or no, at least he babbled of good things, just things. Better still, he had at least some sophistication and intellect that I could relate to. It indicated at least some vestige of sanity, and it gave me hope that maybe we could actually find the others and rescue them. Because if we didn't, then I'd have no means to achieve my goal. I would wander the world, useless and without direction, unable to return home out of shame. A fate I hoped no one would ever go through.
We spent the next few minutes there, and he meditated while I rested in the shade. He sat still, eyes closed and with forehooves rubbing the earth below him in little circles. Occasionally, he would scoop up some sand and rub it into his hooves. Every now and then his eyes would twitch. Sometimes his ears would flatten. But he kept humming a soft tune -- simple yet filled with a deep emotion that that tensed his facial muscles to a scowl. He breathed a great inhale and a gust of cool air rushed by, to my surprise. The sun was gone, hidden behind dark clouds as a frightening rumble echoed across the heavens. In the distance behind us, a jagged white light tore the sky asunder, then disappeared almost instantly. What followed was a splitting crack that had me jerk onto my hooves, breathing deep.
"Hold on," he said, eyebrows furrowing. "Let the rain come."
As if on cue I felt moisture on my body as tiny droplets floated down onto me, encasing me in a beady coat of water. Then came another gust of cold wind, and with it an outright downpour of water that soaked me from head to hoof instantly. My mane was matted down, my tail stuck against my rear as the deluge poured over me. I could see nothing with my mane in my eyes, but it didn't matter. I was laughing like a fool, my entire body rejoicing as my mouth opened up to the heavens and drank its fill. The waters of life drenched the drylands and nourished me, and for many moments I couldn't have cared for anything else as I jumped and shouted for joy.
"The storms send their regards," Vox shouted over the downpour. Then he glanced off behind him, at the rainy fog that'd once been nothing but miles of scorched earth. He turned back to me, his body unsoaked save for a glistening coat and a damp mane. "I think it's best we hurry before their term passes. It's not in a storm's nature to just come on a whim like this, at least not in your world."
I ceased my celebration, my smile fading as I took in exactly what'd just happened. This zony had just summoned rain. Whether or not it was a coincidence didn't matter much; he sure as Tartarus looked like he'd summoned it. And like his resistance to the heat, he seemed almost unaffected by the deluge. Lunatic or no, all the phenomena pointed to the possibility that he was what he said he was: a spirit, an ethereal being.
Well, we do live in a world filled with magic, a voice in my head mused, and I swear I could hear it humming to itself in skeptical thought. Magic exists all around you. Three of your fellow guards were fire-wielding unicorns! Voxy here isn't so improbable. Why not believe in it?
I found myself inclined to the logic. Though I liked to believe that the magic within the world simply required more study to explain scientifically, there was no doubting its existence. It was a witnessed occurrence and widely-known to be real. The ponies claimed that the sun and moon rose and fall at their princesses' wills. Zebra travelers' accounts of the few times Discord escaped his stony prison were archived in every major history book I'd ever read. Indeed, why not believe Vox Populi was what he claimed? Why not believe that he was a representation of the mysteries science had yet to unfold?
My train of thought was shattered by a mighty boom in the clouds above. I shook my head, flailing water everywhere, and nodded vigorously. "Alright then. Let us press on!" I shouted, brushing my mane out of my eyes and gesturing towards the direction we'd been heading.
With his own nod, Vox Populi turned and galloped forward. I followed closely behind him, fighting the currents of the wind as they sent sheets of water slapping against me. We climbed muddy hills and splashed across fields of water, all the while we were shrouded and distorted by the rain. My centuria urbanae training found use in supplying me with the necessary stamina to keep up. The cold was a nice change, and comforted me all throughout our long journey.
It must have been an hour's gallop and canter, but eventually the rain and the wind lightened. Then it ceased altogether, the sky gloomy as the clouds passed by quickly overhead, rumbling with thunder and illuminated by the occasional bolt of lightning. My body dripped with water that stuck irritating grains of sand to me as the land we trotted over gradually turned drier. Soon it was the same as before the deluge: scorching and arid, with a dishearteningly huge and empty space in front of us to scour for my captured companions.
But we didn't stop. No, my body had numbed my soreness and so long as my wings were folded, they did not bother me. I'd drank enough to not thirst, and I could follow Vox for quite a while yet. And as we cantered along, he drew my attention over to a hill off in the distance. "We shall proceed thither. We will require a view of the area before we can resume our noble rescue."
I panted and nodded, following him as he aligned our course towards the hill.
***Roama Victrix***
"Remarkable," Vox commented, his gaze looking over the barren lands with its dead bushes and cracked soil. A faint smile crossed his lips. "Vox Populi has said it many times, but he feels that a few instances of admiration do little justice to the strange beauty of this place. This world is so much simpler than the one Vox Populi belongs to. Easier to manipulate, yet somehow more static and unchanging. Its inhabitants are beings of little consequence, yet they find meaning in their menial existence. Order reigns here. There is peace, to some extent. Conflicts of essence are small and temporary. 'Tis a world filled with beauty, so common that the beauty may go overlooked..."
I gazed out over the landscape as well; the sun was starting to set now, and while I'd only seen its glowing orb since a few days back, I could tell it would begin to darken in a few hours. Then reacting to Vox's comments I shrugged, "I suppose. It is quite a sight, much more diverse and colorful than the polished silver and isolated greens and reds of my home." I frowned, looking down. "I too find it worth admiring. Out here is where the fortunes of the world are decided, and that alone makes me embrace it, despite what danger it may harbor. But it's a shame most others don't see it the same way. They don't see that life out here can be wondrous if they just worked to make it so."
Vox looked to me, eyes confused. "These others, from your... your 'home'," he said, the last word uttered with a twinge of naivety, "They do not think like you? But you lived with them, yes? They were subjected to the same events that shaped you. Why do they not think as you do?"
I shrugged again. "I don't know. I've always been a bit different." I looked him right in the eye, wondering if he could be trusted to know what'd happened to me since our door was yanked down, days ago. It wasn't like it'd make much difference if he knew of my Stable; the tribals in Apollania did, and I doubted Vox could be as dangerous as any one of them (Unless he is what he says he is, chimed in a little voice in my head. Honestly, the fact that I even had a 'little voice' in me was a bit disconcerting.)
Before he could make any comment, I asked, "Can I trust you?"
The question must have struck him as incredibly silly, for he recoiled with a wry smirk. "Of course the crimson pony can trust Vox Populi! What manner of prattle is a question such as that?"
"Alright, alright," I cut in, stopping him before he expressed his irritation further. "I was just asking because... well, I'd like to tell you something. And you can tell me what you think of it afterwards. It'd be nice to have an opinion from someone completely isolated from what happened."
He sat down. "Vox Populi senses a tale, no doubt one of righteous valor and courage! But if not that, then one of tedious mortal squabbles and inconsequential nonsense. My opinion shall be either of the two, and nothing else."
I rolled my eyes. "Right then. Can I expect you to tell me of your own life afterwards? If we'll be traveling together for who knows how long, I feel that we should be able to understand one another." That was what I said, of course, and my intent was true. I wanted us to be able to understand each other. But another side of me was genuinely curious to hear Vox's story from his own mouth.
He nodded. "It is only fair that Vox Populi does so."
"Good." I sat, and with a breath I thought on how to begin. Then the words flowed out, and the tale went on naturally.
I told him everything.
***Roama Victrix***
"Mhmm, so that is the story behind your current unfortunate circumstances," Vox mused, rubbing his chin. "Strange. Vox Populi erred in his previous statement. His opinion can't be either of the two. No, it is a bit of both."
I rose a brow. "Bit of both? So all of what I did was either 'righteous and valorous' or 'petty and inconsequential', then?"
"Yes," he replied flatly, and I had to remind myself that Vox was a blunt-speaking person to keep myself from taking his answer the wrong way. At my expectant gaze, he elaborated, "You say that you did all that for the greater good of your people and for that of... what was it? Roam? Vox Populi does not know what Roam is, but sacrificing your own freedom to save your fellows from harm alone was a righteous act. You have Vox Populi's respect."
I suddenly felt flattered. "Oh. Why, thank you. Glad to have it."
"And you also have Vox Populi's most sincere statement that you're a complete fool for trusting that disgusting Thanus creature," he added immediately afterwards. I frowned, gaze narrowing as he explained with a judgmental tone, "Such a callous wretch, that one. Sacrificing his comrades for his own goals. That Perilax character would do better as leader of that legion, that 'Legio IV Equestrius' or whatever it was. I do and always shall prefer an honest heart and a just cause over the most cunning minds and the most silver tongues. You've been played, crimson pony. You've left your citadel in the watch of one whose mind is only for himself. As a spirit of Justice, believe me when I say that when you meet him again you will want nothing more than to end him in the most painful way possible."
I sighed, head bowed. Yes, ever since my meeting with Perilax and his explanation of the sorry state Thanus had purposely let his legion fall into, I'd had my doubts about the legate. On the outside, I saw a charismatic individual, with a cunning mind that played the situation to its advantage every chance it got. But if what Perilax said was true then the insides of Thanus' mind harbored shadows that could have him cast my home in darkness, out of my reach and out of my protection. Maybe trusting him was a mistake, but there was nothing else I could do at the time. The relationship between my people and the Legion had been too fragile to jeopardize further with suspicion.
"I suppose I'll see," I replied, standing. "The sooner I return to Marediolanon, the sooner I'll find out. We should continue our search. Finding them is my only chance of accomplishing my goal, and accomplishing my goal is the only way I can return with some dignity left. I've risked too much on this to give up on it now. I need to see it through."
He stood as well. "Indeed. Vox Populi diverted half his attention to observing the environment whilst you were speaking. He spotted a plane over yonder that seems to have a higher concentration of extra-large sand," he said as he nodded off to the southwest, to which the manticores had been flying. "Such a land is different from what our eyes have observed thus far. Vox Populi believes such a circumstance goes beyond mere coincidence."
We left the hill and trotted in the direction he indicated. Indeed, the southwestern drylands were particularly rocky compared to what we'd already trotted over (and clearly this flummoxed Vox greatly, for the feel of the 'extra-large' sand beneath his hooves was odd compared to plain dirt). The heat was bearable now, and as the terrain gradually turned hillier we often found ourselves in some form of shade.
At length, Vox spoke and broke the silence. "Crimson pony requested that Vox Populi speak of himself. Vox Populi does not make idle promises, for as a spirit of Justice he does all he can to be just and fair."
I smiled, glad he remembered his end of the deal. "I'm listening."
His next few words came out slowly, uncertainly: "Vox Populi comes from a world that is... what's the term? Transcendent?" He eyed me expectantly, and I waved him continue. "Yes, he supposes 'transcendent' is the term. This world Vox Populi comes from, it is a 'universal pool', a plane from which all cosmic occurrences go through to collect the fundamentals they require in their being."
After a moment of thought, he continued, "Akin it to your mortal stockroom, from which all necessities of a certain situation are obtained. The difference is that Vox Populi's world possesses the raw essence with which everything comes into being. It is a realm of concepts and ideas, and these go along a vast ethereal network of cause-and-effect to possess an observable outcome. But this relationship is not one-sided. No, this progenitor plane derives its existence from the ever-changing essence of its inhabitants. Spirits, you may call us. In turn, the state of these spirits change based on the meaning of the values they incarnate. When Love takes on a new meaning for those who say feel it, then the essence of Love is morphed, and all Love spirits have a bit of themselves changed as well.
"Thus is the relationship the progenitor realm has with all dependent worlds: the inhabitants of the physical realms feel and use these ever-morphing ideas, which in turn change the spirits who embody them. These spirits themselves then change the progenitor realm, and any dependent being who draws upon the essences of universal fundamentals find the state of the idea different, in one way or another. That is why a concept can't be incarnated by one spirit alone, because each instance of it is different, whether from mind-to-mind or place-to-place. There are many spirits of Justice, each manifesting its changing meaning in every second, in every mind, and in every situation."
Gesturing to himself with pride as we trotted along, he said, "Me, I manifest Justice as the tortured souls of this world understand it. I am the final equilibrium, the retributive strike, the vengeful anger. Thus is my being, until the people of this world come to understand Justice differently. Thus I am the Vox Populi, and I represent all of this world's desires for equality."
Wow. Okay, that was a lot for context. I had to give him credit for managing to think all that up if he was indeed just a crazed zony. But if all he said proved true, and he was indeed a spirit... just wow. "But... how did you end up in this world, and in this form?" I asked, entertaining the intriguing possibility that he truly was an ethereal being.
He squinted. "Vox Populi is not sure. The infuriating thing about the spirits of Matter is their unpredictability. For you see, they choose what form the rest of us take when we cross into other realms. The only thing Vox Populi knows for certain is that the raw desire for Justice from which he was spawned resonated from the suffering of souls trapped inside the mind of a malevolent creature. Vox Populi remembers an excruciating pain, a vision of the face of some hideous monster with a snapping maw and a demonic scowl, and then... nothing."
Tapping his forehead in thought, he added, "Vox Populi vaguely remembers being chased, when the world was dark and pinpricks of light dotted a void above him. It went on for a long time, he thinks. Then he felt an odd sensation of not being able to move anymore. This body's eyelids felt heavy, its limbs numb. Then Vox Populi crawled beneath that bridge you found him in, and then there was lapse in time, accompanied by blurry images."
"You were dreaming," I told him, and his expression grew confused. Honestly, I found it queer that a being with such supposedly vast knowledge and power needed elaborations; it only reinforced my resistance to the notion of him being what he said he was. "A dream is a fantastical set of images and thoughts conjured up by the mind, drawing on past experiences, hopes, fears, and other such things to create the imagery."
"Huh. Vox Populi did not know that. This world confuses him, still. Crimson pony is very knowledgeable of his world."
"You can say so," I said as we curved around the base of a small hill, our turn covering us in shadows as the sun sank lower in the sky. "Also, I'd really like it if you stopped calling me 'crimson pony'. You may say you don't have a name -- though I really do think 'Vox Populi' would do fine -- but I do. It's Goldwreath."
"Goldwreath," he mused, our hooves crunching on rock as we trekked partway up the mound. From the hill's slope, we could see further inland -- the terrain was now dominated by hills, with rock-and-dirt valleys in between them. To my surprise, several tall shapes jutted out of some of the hills. I'd seen them enough in pictures and books. They may have been dead and twisted, but they were trees nonetheless. The first trees I'd seen in the outside world. "Very well. Vox Populi shall call you Goldwreath, as requested."
"And I shall call you Vox Populi," I replied. He shrugged, taking the notion of having a name of his own with nonchalance.
Then something caught my attention in the encroaching darkness of the early evening. In between two distant hills was a tiny point of white light, bright and distinct from the dark-orange illumination of the sun as it began to descend into the horizon. Vox Populi was right. Not only did the direction he'd taken us in change the landscape, but it also showed us the first signs of civilization. A working light bulb had to indicate something of the sort, right?
Vox seemed to discern my thoughts, and suggested as he looked off at it as well, "Perhaps we should proceed to it? I know little of this realm. Your worldly instincts must take precedence in guiding us on our noble venture. If you go thither, I shall follow."
I thought on it, then decided that whatever it was must be a step up over the barrenness of the drylands. With a nod, I had us trot over to it.
What we found surprised me. The bulb wasn't isolated, but rather was one of many white bulbs encircling a multi-colored neon sign reading 'Malek's Bazaar'. The bright sign itself was mounted on a massive wooden board held high by a pole, and the pole stood next to a simple, wide, rectangular wooden building with boarded up windows and sandbags lining the base. What surprised me even more were the dirt paths, snaking over the ground from various directions across the hilly landscape and meeting right beneath the door of the building. Right outside the door was a wooden stall with a single lamp, and behind the counter was an idling zebra stallion clothed in a white robe, sitting and reading with little observance of the environment. From his head protruded an odd white extension -- a turban, I realized after a moment's further observation. Nearby were two forms shrouded in dark cloth, each possessing curved scabbards containing scimitars on their sides.
"Might Vox Populi ask what manner of construct this is? It looks derelict, out of place, as do its denizens. Especially when one considers the deserted location. Are these common characteristics for artificial structures in this realm?" Vox queried as we observed the bazaar from afar.
I chewed my lip, shrugging. "I don't know. Probably, considering the state the world's in. I've not been out here too long, nor have I encountered any shops, which makes me wonder if the wasteland even uses currency." My eyes lit up. Currency... money! Gah, but my denarii were taken along with my saddlebags. A shame. The memory of being robbed killed the premature excitement of being able to purchase... well, whatever the owner, this 'Malek', had in store. Things like necessities. My heart sank, the thought of going another day in the open heat without water weighing down on me.
"Currency? What is currency?" Vox questioned, curious.
"Ask again later," I said curtly, and he winced as if I'd just spat in his face. Well, clearly somebody wasn't used to not being answered. But while I would have loved to sit down and answer trivia for my ignorant companion, what I would have appreciated more than anything else were supplies. Something to make our little quest less suicidal. Clothing, water, food; even weapons -- yes, even weapons. Right now I needed to find some means of obtaining what we needed. But not thievery. No, not petty thievery. I would convince this Malek to help us, or walk the world on an empty stomach and with a dry throat -- but with an honest heart -- before I'd become a thief.
"Come on. Let's see if there's anything to be obtained from here, somehow," I said as I approached the bazaar.
As we moved from the darkness of twilight, one of the cloaked figures spotted us. Then the figure approached the stall and pulled on a thin rope attached to a bell. The ringing that ensued stirred the stallion behind the counter, and he jumped from his seat at the sound. Then seeing Vox and I approaching, he sighed and frowned in something resembling pity. But then he put on a wide grin and plopped both forehooves onto the wooden desk.
"Welcome, welcome, travelers!" came his voice, cheery and welcoming as the world was plunged into the darkness of night. His accent made me arch a brow; his heavy emphasis on the 'r's of his speech made me think he perhaps originated from Roam's neighbor nation, Saddle Arabia. If my watching of all those Daring Do films about mummies in the desert and in the forests taught me one thing, it was how Saddle Arabians sounded like. "I see you've found my shop, though it's situated in the isolated drylands of the south. How wonderful! It's been a while since I've had any customers." Then with a bit of trepidation he added, "Ah, a pony and a half-blood, too. Such queerness is exciting in this lonely little corner of the world."
He casted a quick glance to both of his companions, then said in a rush, "Ah, but I am rambling. Come over, my friends! Come and browse Malek's Bazaar!"
We reached the stall, and I found myself face-to-face with the widely-grinning merchant. I also found myself casting furtive glances at his two quiet companions -- both clearly zebras, obvious from the fur visible beneath the eye-slits of their black clothing and hoods. Probably just mercenaries, I thought, hoping that the stereotyped reputation of their kind as dangerous, reckless goons proved untrue in the face of simple, honest shopping. At least as close to shopping as we could get, considering we had no money.
"Hello there, Malek. My friend and I are hoping to conduct business," I said in a civil tone, leaning close to the counter. "Might we know what you have for sale?"
"Why, certainly." With that he disappeared beneath the desk, which promptly turned upside-down to reveal a set of shelves, each displaying merchandise. The topmost and largest shelf displayed an assortment of weaponry, ranging from blades of various shapes and sizes to small firearms such as pistols, shotguns, and assault rifles. The shelf below displayed ammo, and the one below that presented accessories for the blades and the guns. I was surprised by the quality and condition of the armaments. If I didn't know any better, I'd say such things were manufactured using Marediolanon's own workshop!
He gestured over the merchandise with an easy yet somehow forced smile. "Have a look. Do any of my beauties sing their siren songs in your ears?"
I rose a brow skeptically and picked one of the blades up. It was a shiny thing, with two prongs sticking out of the tip, almost as if it was designed to appear scissor-like. To my shock, I realized it basically was a big scissor; the handle's dual-grip structure confirmed it. This was no Roaman weapon. Gods, I could imagine being stabbed with such a thing, before my opponent expanded it within me and spilled my guts out all over. I suppressed a shudder and carefully put it back.
"Er, do you have any model of combat-bracers?" I asked. I'd not yet encountered any of the mutated horrors of the wasteland, and the hostilities I'd faced thus far weren't so severe as to absolutely demand fatal retaliation. But I knew nonetheless that such a time would come, and that I did need a weapon. But not something like that; perhaps something less... gruesome. Besides, if I was to obtain an instrument of death, I first needed the means to handle it. Even if I didn't like the idea of being effective at killing one bit.
"Oh, yes. Of course, my good friend," he replied with a bow, and stepped back and entered the door behind him, disappearing into the darkness. Then he came out of the doorway moments later with a leather blanket in his forelegs. Then hiding the secret merchandise's compartment once more, he placed the blanket onto the stall with reverence. He flipped it open and waved a hoof over the trifecta of hoof-accessories within.
One was a black plate that could wrap around the foreleg entirely; it bore grooves and straps and nooks for a great variety of weapons. One was light-blue, outlined with polished silver and positioned its many slots all around the plate. Potentially, it could allow handling of multiple weapons at once. Whether or not doing so was safe was a question I could guess the answer to. Both of them were fine pieces of hardware, surely to be useful in any situation.
But it was the last one, a finely-crafted Roaman military model, featuring the iconic golden laurels and the letters IPQR, that caught my attention. It sported bright red plating and was outlined in bronze. There were only three slots, one on each side of the two laurels and the last below the letters. The biggest slot for the large handle of a gun, if I recalled; a smaller one for the lighter weight of gladii; the last for the nook of a shield. Shield, sword, and gun -- the vital trio of any Roaman legionary.
My own combat-bracer in Marediolanon had been something like the first of these. Only Horus had anything resembling the Roaman model. It was a blatant effect of sentimentality, but I could not find it in me to desire something I'd only ever known as something restricted for my superior.
"I'd take two pairs of the black one, if I could," I said, holding it in my hooves and frowning. Malek rose his brows, confused, and I explained, "We haven't any money. We were... well, I was robbed. By some tribals on manticores." That had him raise his brows, and in his eyes I saw something akin to terror. "They took everything I had: basic necessities of survival, navigational material, packaging utilities..." I put it back down and cast a glance over my shoulder at Vox. His return gaze was pitiful; no doubt the justice-seeking impulses within him were crying out for retribution for my sorry state. Yet his pity felt more like scorn, and I looked away before my pride started having me wrongly despise him.
Then surprise overtook me as I saw Malek looking me over with a similar pity. "Ah, I see," he said. Then he took the black bracer out and held it in his own hooves, twirling it about as he did. "You know, my friend, Malek hears such tragic tales often. Always of others unjustly taking what is not theirs; always how heartless some unnatural creature in pony or zebra form kills in cold blood. In my homeland, such things are not called 'bad people', or 'criminals'. They are called demons, for only demons could be so utterly cruel." He sighed.
"I have been a victim of these demons before, back when I was a young, foolish traveller from other lands. Coming to Roam in hopes of making a fortune off of the dead empire's vast wealth, I came to realize that its richness was not in gold, nor in jewels. But in weapons." He suddenly looked disgusted. "So we had a wonderful combination. A land filled with demons, and also a land of destruction. Malek did not see how it could get worse, then. He only knew that as a child of the great land of peace and prosperity known as Saddle Arabia, he had to use his wit to make it better. So he set up his bazaar, hoping to conduct civil trade with all. But Malek's culture has taught him something more important than the prosperity of coin, my friend pony..."
He leaned close, and when his face was inches from mine he whispered discreetly, "It has taught him the prosperity brought by love of one's fellows. Compassion for the needy, pity for the bereft. Which is why Malek has made it a rule for himself to give something freely from his collection whenever the weary and lost come to his door."
For just a moment, I was confused. Then realization dawned on me and my eyes widened. Before anything could be said he took both my forelegs and laid them on the table, then without hesitation washed my sandy hooves off with water from a nearby basin. When that was done he took out two black bracers and strapped them to my forelegs. They felt numb when they were on solid ground again, reflecting perfectly well how shocked I was.
Vox was the first to speak. "You would give without asking for anything in return?" he asked, sounding baffled. "It does not seem fair. It is not just. This generosity can be abused. Justice would see to it you were repaid."
"I shall be," Malek replied quietly. Then he gestured Vox come over to the counter as well. With clear hesitation, he trotted over, and when his own legs were on the table and being equipped with bracers, Malek explained, "This life is but one of many, my brothers in the eyes of the one true God. When we die, we shall be judged according to our sins and our deeds of compassion. Malek knows that in doing good that pleases Him, he enables God's goodness to flow into people's hearts. Thus I not only help others and earn my place in paradise, but I also help others to earn theirs. That is the greatest treasure anyone can have. Happiness is infectious, just as my culture would have it. Prosperity for all."
Vox, befuddled beyond all understanding as he stood there, shaking his head and blinking rapidly, could not find it in him to just accept the act of random kindness. Thus Malek had to say, "Take it, and do as I have done. Be kind to others who you may meet. Judge them not, whatever they may be. I know in this world that may be hard -- people desire worldly pleasures, and indulge in vices too eagerly, vengeance being one of the most severe." That tore Vox's eyes right up from the ground and had him stare at the zebra intensely.
But Malek just smirked. "I shall not ask why you react to that word so strangely. I can only guess. But, my friends, all I ask is that you use these gifts to help others, and not solely to hurt them. If all things have two edges, use the one that cuts down evil, and not the one that slices hopes. Can you do that?"
I lifted a foreleg up and and looked at the gift, my mind dwelling on the awe and admiration I felt for this foreigner zebra. Then I nodded, and with a certain gaze I looked at him. "It has always been my intent to help. I work for a greater good. And your kindness has only proven to me that there are others who do the same. We will remember this for all the days of the rest of our lives."
It may not have been water. Nor was it food, or clothing, or directions. But more important than the item was the thought. The idea. And ideas, as I knew, could never die. An idea was immortal. An idea was the most important thing anyone could ever possess.
He nodded, and then he glanced off to the sides, at the two guards. One of them had departed, lost from vision; perhaps he had to go relieve himself? Whatever the case, the remaining guard was idling about, paying little heed to the counter.
"Good, good," Malek muttered. Then suddenly his expression turned grim. "Listen," he whispered in a rush, "You are the pony Kabal was to enslave. I know this because he would not stop raving about it earlier. In approaching me, you have approached the secret entrance to his people's underground cavern home. The two guards here are his fellows, and they will not let you leave."
Suddenly all sense of gratitude left me. "What?!" I hissed, eyes popping wide in terror.
Malek bowed his head. "I am sorry I did not tell you sooner, but I too am kept here unwillingly. Gut you, you can help us all. Try to leave. Let them take you down below. There are others. Many others, all enslaved. Many came to me, and none listened when I warned them. You must, for it is the only way they can be stopped. The only way to end a terrible operation within these lands. Please." His eyes drifted to the bracers he gave us. "Slave possessions are taken from them as soon as they are below, but those are locked. They cannot be taken. They will need to call someone to remove them, and that will buy you time. Use that time to fight and escape. Please, I have prayed long and hard since the day I realized what this place was for Him to send us aid. You must do something."
I had the fierce, blazing impulse to smash his face in for this deception; for not warning us on the onset. Was my life not complicated enough? Dangerous enough? Was it not derailed from normalcy enough? Honestly, I would have given into that impulse despite the danger if a little voice in my head didn't plead the same -- to help all those poor souls, to free them from their bonds. It saw what I could not in my rage: that more than just an obligation, it was also a duty that had been laid on me.
As one who liberated himself, the voice seemed to argue, You have the duty to liberate others. Do so now, and free them all.
The voice didn't bring down my anger one bit, but it did make me think. And so I imagined other people, those unfortunate enough to not escape slavery like I had. I saw them toiling day after day, forced to do the wills of their callous masters. The imaginary sight infuriated me and poured gasoline on the blaze of my fury. Malek claimed he was a slave. He didn't look like one. He could have been lying. But if there were really others down in some cave, chained to rocks and toiling in the dirt, then it had to be stopped. I could not stand by.
I took a step back, compressing my rage as quickly as I could. I didn't say a word to Malek as he eyed me pleadingly, face sweaty and tense and hooves stiff on the table. Then I took another step back, nudging Vox on the shoulder as I backtracked. "Come on. Let's go," I said calmly, and began trotting away in the hopes that either Malek's story was a lie, or that we'd at least be brought to this 'underground cavern' with little fuss. No sense getting beaten down while trying to resist.
But Vox didn't listen. Instead he slammed his hooves on the table, crushing Malek's forelegs against the wood. Malek crumpled against the stall in pain, his mouth dangling open from the agony.
"You treacherous snake!" my companion shouted. "You dare lure innocents into this trap? What's more, you lure them in with promises of aid and supplies? Foul trickery! You... accursed... whelp!" he screamed, striking the zebra across the face with each word. Malek was bruised and battered all over by the time Vox grabbed him by the collar and yanked him across the counter. I stumbled back as the guards rushed to the commotion.
"Vox!" I hissed, tugging at him in futility. "This isn't how we want to try to do this! We need to get down there, not try to get ourselves killed up here! Vox!"
As I pulled at him, a sack suddenly went over my face, suffocating and blinding me. I fell back onto the dirt, kicking and screaming muffled yells as I was dragged along across rough ground. A moment later I heard a dull thump and a grunt of pain, and Vox's raving was silenced. I tried to get my breathing down and go along with the dragging as best I could, hoping they'd not beat me just because Vox was unwilling to be calm. Then we stopped, and a rope went around my neck and was tied tightly, attaching the sack to my head. A second later I heard a wooden creak, like a door opening.
"Strike that one upon the skull again, brother," someone said, in an accent that caught my attention. Not Roaman, but not Saddle Arabian, either. Their clothing (or disguise?) didn't match their ethnicity, it seemed. But he didn't sound tribal, either. No, he sounded rather civil, with an almost chivalrous and knightly tone in his voice. "His consciousness remains intact. It must be rectified."
With the same accent the other replied, "Nay, 'tis not necessary. Their descent shall knock them both into unconsciousness. Let us save ourselves the effort." And with that I felt myself grabbed by the head and thrown down into a hole. Light shone partially through the thick cloth as I fell, screaming, for the second time that day.
I regretted it, getting myself involved in that unfortunate event. I'd nearly lost my freedom once, I didn't want to risk it again! As if I'd not suffered enough with the breakage of my wings. Or with the volatility of my home. The hopelessness of my quest. Why, oh, why did I even--
I'd hoped for a painful fall, something I could at least recover from and try to get my bearings right after. But they were right. The fall knocked me out cold, and plunged me into darkness as I struck solid stone below.
I was unconscious twice in one day. I wondered if maybe it was going to start affecting my head.
***Roama Victrix***
Throbbing soreness and aching limbs greeted me as I slipped back into consciousness. My senses returned one at a time. The discomfort of my hip pressing against rough, splintered wood was most aggravating, especially considering my flesh was digging into sharp crevices in the surface. I groaned and sat, gently rubbing my temple.
"Welcome back to Terra. How was Tartarus?" someone asked with a little chuckle. Friendly yet out of place, the comment and tone struck me enough to direct my attention to its source.
A pony. A light-brown, black-maned stallion, with a cutie mark of a lamp, radiating light from within its metal-and-glass form. He was sitting on his flanks, leaned back against a set of curved metal bars. More of such bars surrounded us, enclosing me and him in a near-spherical cage of bent metal and wooden flooring. The metal bars -- more akin to spikes -- converged near the top-center of the cage, where a hole gaped into our little prison. Beyond the hole was utter darkness: clearly, I'd fallen in from wherever that darkness lead.
I scurried backwards a bit. "I... what is this place?" I asked as I looked about, blinking. Jutting forth from stone walls was an array of cables, which converged beneath our cage and kept us suspended high above sharp, threatening stalagmites below. There were torches lining the oddly-colored cavernous walls -- the rock seemed to be arranged in layers of dark and light reds, dirty whites and browns. The torches illuminated a cave that seemed utterly cut off from any larger cavern. Surely the little hole leading into the cage wasn't the only means one could get stuck here, but there was nothing else. No door, or cave mouth, or passageway. Just walls of rock and that tiny hole.
"Well, if one uses one's eyes," the stallion said suspensefully, drawing close and widening his eyes, holding his forehooves in front of him with his ears folded back, "One. Can see. That this. Is a cave." With that he moved his forehooves back and forth rapidly, making a spooky noise. "Bewaaaare the caves!"
I drew back ever so slightly and rose a brow. "I, um... I see." Why were the people I met outside either hostile or eccentric? Was that a trope of existence? I looked around again, then turned back to him. "But I take it that's not your real answer."
He shrugged. "Eh, not really. I know next to nothing about this place, same as you. Went to get supplies, got knocked out, wound up here. You know, same old, same old," he said simply. "I'd have really appreciated if they let me keep what I bought, though. These people took my possessions on my way down, when I was out cold. Thieves..." He frowned, pouting his lips.
Then he glanced to me, and his eyes lit up as he grabbed my foreleg, caring nothing for my personal space. "You, though. Still have your bracer, I see." He inspected my foreleg, where a great many scratches marred my flesh around the black metal. I assumed that whoever these people were had tried to pry it off me before giving up. At least Malek's lock worked. The extra cuts I got would be for nothing if I didn't get to use it, though.
"Seems you took that Malek fellow up on his offer," the pony said, then tsked. "Wish I did, then maybe I'd have a chance of surviving when I'm next."
I swallowed, "'When I'm next'?"
He nodded, letting go of my leg. "Oh yeah. Our captors come about once an hour to check up on this cage and pick out one sorry sod to bring... well, somewhere. The guy who came down with you, the zony? He wasn't happy one bit when they came. Took three of those tattooed snobs and a knight to drag him along, heh."
Oh crap. Vox! "Where is he? Where did they take him?" I asked in a rush, standing up.
He pointed over at the wall with a hoof. "That wall's a sinister thing. Actually a door, you see, to some weird settlement or what have you on the other side. Just caught a glimpse of it when they pulled the cage close, but I saw houses built on wooden frames. There were polished tiles and concrete columns, even a chandelier of sparkling crystal." With a skeptical pout he muttered, "A chandelier. Now that just seems so excessive."
I grit my teeth anxiously. "Oh hell. When were they here last?"
"An hour ago," he said, and my eyes widened. Then he chuckled reassuringly. "Relax, relax. They're very picky about who they bring with them to that 'paradise beyond the veil'. At least, the one picking out from this cage is. Griffons and zonies? Oh, yes! Mutated zebras and non-mutated zebras? Utterly desired!" he said enthusiastically, before he deadpanned, "Ponies of all kinds? Oh no. See, you and I, my fellow 'colored', are the least of their priorities. Too exotic, that fat lout said. Ah, well. More time out of whatever 'paradise' it is they have out there, at least."
I sighed and slumped against the cruelly bent bars. "Great. So we're stuck here." He nodded and laid back contentedly, closing his eyes. I supposed being trapped was better than being forced into labor, at least until the hunger set in. After that, I imagined most would be willing to perform the most demeaning things just for scraps. Perhaps even come to utterly rely on pittance and pity for mere survival...
Ah, but such thoughts were destructive. I would never submit to such humiliation, not while dignity still mattered. But now I had a brewing curiosity pertaining to something he said.
"You said it took three tattooed zebras and a knight to subdue my companion. A knight? As in, the chivalrous warriors? Complete with armor and all?" I asked, and a single eye opened as he smiled back at me.
"Oh yeah, and complete with holier-than-thou accents, too. Why, as if the wasteland wasn't strange enough, the people of Ye Olde times have to come back to life, eh?" He chuckled, sitting straight again. "But yeah, knights. And there was a bunch of praetorians that came by yesterday, too. For a while I thought the Legion was backing whatever weird operation's going on down here, but then the zebras in that fancy black and purple armor just didn't look as..." He paused and tapped his chin in thought. "Smug? Self-righteous? Grim? Stoic? No, no... ah, yes! They didn't look as fat as some actual praetorians I saw. The Legion's soldiers are well fed. And I read books. A real Roaman officer would never ignore his troop’s health that badly."
Well, that was true, except this guy probably didn't know that the Legion's troops weren't quite as well fed as he thought. Still, hearing that there were knights and praetorians down here, coupled with Saddle Arabian desert warriors (oddly with knightly accents) topside, made me wonder if what Malek had said was a slaving nexus wasn't actually just some kind of strange dress-up-and-role play center. What a silly thing if it were, and -- despite everything -- the absurdity of the thought brought me a tiny chuckle.
"You know," the brown stallion mused, leaning back against the bars again with his gaze directed upwards, "I've been stuck down here for nearly two days now. There were, like, five people here when I woke up. All zebras. They got taken all at once the next time Mr. Fatty came, leaving me stuck here with no one to talk to and nothing to do but sleep and get bored."
He jerked up straight and put on a grin. "So! Before he finally decides us ponies are more exotic than zebras in zebra lands, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for your most generous presence, which no doubt has saved my sanity. I swear, if I had to endure listening to water drip down onto the rocks below for another damned day..."
I smiled ruefully. "Well, I'm so glad to be down here." Sarcastically, I added, "Really. I am." I sighed, then smiled more sincerely. "So I take it we should introduce ourselves."
"Ooh, I forgot about that," he replied, and rolled his neck. Then he let off a blissful sigh at the pops that followed, and said happily as he gestured to himself, "Lampshade, adventurer and part-time captive of this most illustrious establishment. You know, the facilities here are very good; I hear the staff are quite friendly."
I snickered and said my piece, "I am Goldwreath, and I am most glad to finally meet someone who both bears no ill intent for me -- I hope -- and seems open about his name. I take it people wouldn't be too trusting, so it's a pleasure to encounter someone who isn't too paranoid in that regard."
He chuckled. "Yes, I imagine most would glance over their shoulders as if it were a requirement to living. Not me, though. Life's too short, and -- as it is -- too glum and drab for me to just add to it. I'd prefer to make friends at a tavern and get drunk on the floor. You know, merrymaking. That's not so strange, is it?"
"Well, seeing as you're the first person I've met here that's open about himself, and strangeness by definition is the peculiarity of something or someone in comparison to others, I'd say you are a bit strange."
He contemplated it for a moment, all the while scrunching his face and letting out a low guttural groan. Then he relaxed and nodded, "Fair enough. I guess I am kind of strange. Comes from the humor, you know? Most don't care to smile and joke just for the sake of the joy they bring. A shame. I imagine most would want nothing but happiness, but they try to accomplish it the wrong way. Sigh."
"Like forcing others to do their labor for them," I agreed, then frowned and shook my head. I looked around at the cavern. "We really should try to get out of here before anything else. Malek pleaded that my companion and I do our best to help the people down here. I'm not one to lightly walk away when I know I can do something, so I'll not waste away here while both he and others are being turned into... property."
Lampshade squinted and pursed his lips, then stuck his tongue out from his elongated lips and licked over the entrance of his mouth. Clearly a gesture of intense thought, I told myself, holding back odd glances as he sucked in air through the small hole of his mouth.
"I guess," he said, but looked at me skeptically. "We could just wait, though. They wouldn't really just leave us here to die, would they? Slavers need all the workers they can get, after all."
"True," I replied, but braced my forelegs against the metal bars anyway. "But I'm not going to wait for them. I want to be free on my own terms." I looked over at him. "Now, where's the door on this wall? Where exactly?" And as an afterthought, I looked over the distance between our suspended prison and the rock wall. Seven feet. Close, but not close enough for anyone to just jump the distance. "I wonder..."
He stood up with great effort, then stretched his spine before approaching. "There," he said as he pointed at a rough spot on the multicolored rock wall, where the stone looked ever so slightly sandier than anywhere else. Then he looked uncomfortable as he caught my gaze.
"Alright. Now, the door. Is it made of wood or rock?" I asked.
Now he really looked unnerved, but answered anyway. "Hollowed wood. But really, seeing as there are sharp, pointy stalagmites below us, I really don't think-..."
He didn't get to finish his objection as I started shaking the entire cage, gripping tightly on the metal bars as I threw my weight forward repeatedly. The clanging of metal and the thwacking of cables that followed was almost deafening as the echoes reverberated through the small space, yet I continued until I got the result I wanted: the cage was now closer to the wall, which only meant my assumption was true. The cables didn't simply converge beneath our prison; beneath the wooden floor we stood on must have been some kind of pulley mechanism. How else could the slavers pull their slaves-to-be close enough to drag them out?
When I finally stopped for breath, he opened his eyes and took his hooves off his ears. "Right then. I was hoping to die of old age, but I guess bleeding out through my ears isn't so bad, either. Oh, but I'd still prefer old age."
I rolled my eyes. "You're not going to die, Lampshade," I said. "As soon as we get ourselves close enough to the wall, I'll bust the damn thing open, and we'll get out of here. Hope that there's no one right outside, because we're screwed if there is."
It took two more cycles of throwing my weight towards the wall. Each time I stopped when either the noise gave me a headache, or my lungs demanded a break. But at last we were there, so close to the wall we could actually touch it with our hooves. I felt around the surface and gave it a few taps; there was a hollow spot. Good.
"You know, there's still the matter of getting ourselves past the bars," Lampshade said. "Fatty has a key to open a little lock that allows one of the bars to be removed, making just enough space for people to be dragged out of. We don't exactly have that key."
In response to his statement I looked at the bar right in front of me. It was an old thing, rusting all across its form, especially near the base. Good thing, too, for it allowed me to tear it out of the wooden floor with little trouble.
"Oh. Well, then, forget the key," he muttered, and stepped back as I positioned the sharpened tip against the wall.
I breathed deep. "Let's hope all goes well." And with that I thrust the bar against the deceptive wall again and again, chipping away at the artificial layer of stone covering the hollow wooden door beneath. The wood provided little challenge, and burst into splinters as I punched a hole right into it. Widening the hole took even less effort, as I dropped the bar and slammed against the board again and again with my hooves. Thus we broke through the first layer of the door. The frame inside was light and clearly not built to withstand abuse. Those went down to my pummeling, breaking into a thousand pieces as I attacked it with the fervent desire to be rid of my cage.
Picking up the bar again, I broke through the final barrier, and was rewarded with a ray of warm light from beyond. With greater desire, I tore the whole thing down from top to bottom, savagely and mercilessly breaking it to pieces with hoof and bar. My heartbeat escalated as the last inches of its form were shattered to splinters, and I stepped freely onto the polished tiles of the illuminated cavern beyond, victorious and proud as I smiled up at the light bulb above me. I was scratched and sweaty and tired, but my freedom made it all worth it.
Lampshade stepped out after me and immediately froze in place. "Er, Goldwreath..." he murmured as he nudged my shoulder. But I ignored him as I stood there, panting and basking in the surge of my accomplishment. "Goldwreath. Hey," he hissed insistently, and shoved me lightly to get me out of my stupor. Annoyed, I glared at him.
"What?" I growled. First Lucius destroying the moment of grandeur, and then this? Really, was it a crime to enjoy what one so deserved? Apparently so, what with how wide-eyed and anxious Lampshade's gaze was as he stared at me. Then his eyes darted elsewhere and back repeatedly, and I finally followed his sight.
My blood froze in my veins. "Oh. Shit."
The knight watching us was standing next to a dirty marble column that jutted out of the polished floor to support a smooth-cut stone ceiling above us. He wore heavy plate-armor, with massive pauldrons protruding from his shoulders. On his cuirass was a symbol of two warhammers crossed, and enclosing them were golden laurels. His eyes were wide, surprised as he looked at us from within his head-enclosing helmet's dark visor. As he stood, he looked up to the top of the column directly opposite his own, at a clock illuminated by a torch. The entire area was eerily quiet and empty, save for the ticking of the clock and some wooden scaffolding right in front of the destroyed door. Atop the scaffolding was a pair of tents.
"Okay, so maybe I exaggerated a little when I said 'houses on wooden frames'," Lampshade muttered. Then we both stiffened as the knight turned to us and spoke.
"Well, it takes thee nigh five minutes to ravish thy prison and secure liberty for thyself. Most impressive," the knight said, and looked back to us as we stood there like statues, neither of us daring to move a muscle. His gaze turned skeptical as he trotted over, his armored boots clanging on the tiles. He stopped in front of us, his eyes scrutinizing us both like we were interesting artifacts. Then the knight's armored hoof grabbed me by the jaw and lifted my face up as he inspected me. I let out a grunt of discomfort as he moved my head about, looking me over from every angle.
"So thou art the troublesome pegasus that infuriated ser Kabal. Thou doesn't look so capable, what with thy wings in such a state of injury," he said as he eyed my broken appendages. His gaze made me ruffle them uncomfortably, just enough to realize they still ached terribly from their exertion earlier that day. Then his eyes looked back to my own.
"Ser Kabal has not yet been informed of thy most vulnerable situation. I suppose none of his fellow knaves properly scrutinized their new batch of forced laborers," the knight informed me, taking his hoof out from under my jaw. I was grateful, both for the restored sanctity of my personal space and the fortuitous news of my presence being, as of yet, unknown to the very zebra who'd tried to enslave me. "But thou will need to be careful, lest ye both be discovered out of your cells."
My eyebrows rose at his statement, as did Lampshade's. "Wait. So you mean... you're not throwing us back in?" the brown pony asked.
The knight simply shook his head, eyeing us pitifully. "Nay." And with that, he turned to leave. "My suggestion is for ye both to hide. Whether amongst the populace of this settlement or within the caverns, I know not. Fare thee well." He began trotting off, leaving Lampshade and I staring at each other in rushed necessity. Don't let him leave just yet! we both seemed to say.
"Hey. Hey wait, we need help!" I called, and wanted to choke my words back at the volume of my voice. If I didn't attract more attention to us with my echoes reverberating down the cavern like a call saying, 'I'm here, capture me!', then it would be a blessing. But as it was only the knight heeded me, and he stopped and turned around.
"Truly? And what dost thou think I can do for ye? I am a knight of this settlement, sworn to protecting it and its... people." He drawled out the last word with disgust. "I deal not with the serfs, nor am I supposed to even be here. But I could not ignore the loud, cracking noise emanating from this tunnel, and so here I am."
"Yes, but, but maybe you could just... I don't know. You're not out for my blood and you don't want us back in our cage, which is good. Maybe help us get some clothes? Maybe disguises?" I pleaded. The knight now was an absolute blessing. I'd been a fool to assume no one would be outside waiting for us. Had it been anyone else, I doubt our fortunes would have been good. Despite the need to break free, I could have cost us our lives. But the risk had paid off, thank goodness. Yet simply being allowed to find our own means of surviving down here was not enough. We needed help, and I needed this guy to give it.
My heartfelt request for aid seemed to claw away at him, as he tilted his head and locked me still with a gaze that showed both pain and conflict. Then he shut his eyes close and groaned, bowing his head. "Very well, very well. I shall help," he said tiredly, and lifted his head up. "Just understand that this, ye both. Your escape? 'Tis a happening that mayhap possesses potential to cause quite a stir down here. The government of this settlement is convoluted, at best. I will let my superior explain when we get to him. Perhaps he can find a use for ye."
I felt my breath leave me as relief overtook my senses. A blissful relaxation spread out within me, like a warm surge. "Thank you. Thank you so much," I said, smiling faintly. But the knight still seemed anxious as he muttered a welcome. Then he trotted past us with haste and climbed the wooden scaffolding. He fished out some rough and tattered clothes from one of the tents and threw them down at us below. Then he sat on the edge.
"On with those now, and quickly," he ordered. "There's no telling if others have overheard this exchange. We must depart, before the obese one comes along yet again."
As he hurriedly threw the over-sized, badly-kept brown rags on, Lampshade questioned, "I don't suppose you could tell us exactly where we are? I'd like to give a name to the place that imprisoned me for two days. People'll need to be warned, they will."
The knight shrugged as he climbed down the scaffolding. No easy task in his heavy armor. Then he paused and looked over his shoulder at us. With a nonchalance in his voice, he replied, "The inhabitants and the Core Committee have taken to naming this place after its deceptive means of procuring additional serfs. This place, you may call the Spiderhole."
"Huh. Strange name," Lampshade commented. "Though I suppose those wolf spiders are strange things, too. I've never seen one, though. Have any of you?"
"I have," the knight replied as he began trotting along down the torch-lit tunnel. "It's a most deceptive creature. Just like the promise this place had..." he sighed.
From the distance along the cavern, I could make out sounds, voices: the noise of work and civilization. A shame that that civilization used slaves. And as we continued along, the tunnel with its asymmetrical stone floor and walls -- all marked with strange glyphs and drawings painted using faint silver material -- turned into a finely-cut hallway of concrete and steel pillars that held the weight of the rock up. I noticed one other thing, in particular.
"This place kind of looks like the interior of a Stable, if the interior was much more spacious," I murmured. Then I got a glance from the knight -- a surprised, disbelieving look. I cleared my throat and amended, "Well, not that I've ever been in one. I, uh... saw it in a book?" If people regarded Stables so important as to wage wars over, then their residents must've been something of interest to many. If I could keep my head down in that regard, that would be good.
"There're no books that detail the interior of the Roaman government's Stables," the knight countered. "Only the pamphlets provided to they given entry to the shelters possessed such information. Such pamphlets were provided only in the Stables themselves when the residents-to-be arrived. Thus, I think you actually are from a Stable."
Oh hell. He was right. And just like that, my poorly-kept secret was out. The thought of it spreading to all sorts of people worried me, clearly enough that it showed on my face. The knight smirked. "Oh, don't look so surprised. I know a Stable dweller when I see one. I've seen a few, actually, and so has the wasteland. Wandering Stable dwellers are more common to the outside than you think. I should know. I'm one."
My eyes popped wide. "Wait... what?"
***Roama Victrix***
So... Spiderhole.
It was an interesting name for an interesting place. Named after the means by which unwilling captives were brought down into the caverns, it was also designed like a spider. Literally, if the map I had seen on the wall proved true. The various caves and cavern systems weren't all natural, contrary to my initial belief. The entire underground complex had been a museum commissioned during the war, and was dedicated to the preservation of centuries of zebra history. In its spider leg-shaped passages were held artifacts from the Roaman Republican era all the way to the Imperial and Renaissance ages. Then there were the halls dedicated to the tribal cultures of the zebras who'd inhabited the deserts and jungles. Virtually every territory and people ever brought under Roaman rule, even if for just a few years, had a spot somewhere in the Arachnus de Centuriae Center for Historic and Cultural Treasures, as the whole place had been originally named.
And it was also a Stable. Stable 8 Arachna -- the revelation of such information almost had me throw a fit of excitement. The words of the knight had proven true! But not all of it was the Stable; only the central chamber, the gigantic abdomen of the spider, housed the Stable proper. It was towards that huge, circular cave that our chivalrous guide was taking us as we waded into and out of crowds of people, all dressed and outfitted in a manner befitting a certain time and people of the Roaman empire. It was a fascinating sight to see mares and stallions dressed with all sorts of clothes, speaking all sorts of languages as they milled about their lives. There were shops and libraries, built into the rock and earth. Stones and gems for sale there, traditional Prance cuisine there... oh, it was absolutely delightful!
It all left me insatiably curious and giddy, despite my predicament. I'd grown up with the memorized list of the first fifty Roaman Stables in my mind, yet this was the first I'd ever encountered beyond my own home. And what I found was something I never thought I'd see: a center for cultural mingling, perhaps the only one of its kind!
Our guide, a knight by the name of Caridin, who represented the knights of the Roaman province Germane Minor during its medieval metamorphosis, was not keen on answering any further inquiries. I had Lampshade to blame for that: my fellow pony had asked incessantly for the location of the nearest decent bathroom. Now Caridin kept a determined silence, leaving me starving for information, and furious at Lampshade for irritating the person who'd decided to help us.
We passed underneath a geometrically patterned stone arch -- an indication of where a leg of the spider ended and where the abdomen began, I thought -- and entered a much larger chamber, with a stone ceiling higher up than anywhere else. Here was the hub of activity in all of Spiderhole, for along the walls of the circular cave were lined countless vendors and stores, all organized by culture and era.
In the middle, towering above the bedlam of the cultural mingling below, rose the Stable. It appeared as a titanic metal rod stabbed into the ground, jutting into the rock both above and below it. It was massive, with a circumference wide enough to house a great many people if there was more to its length than what was plainly visible. Its height and position within the cave made the construction of balconies and ramparts along the walls of the Stable exterior practical. On some of those, knights patrolled and looked out over the eight stony entrances. On others, praetorians kept vigil over the crowds below. And still on others there were elaborately-armored zebras with wide circular shields and long pikes. They were unmistakably hoplites, the elite soldiers of the old mountainous kingdom of Mac'adonia.
The door we had approached was not unlike the door of Marediolanon, making me smile at the similarity that reminded me of home. The only differences were that the symbol was not of wolves, but of a spider encased in golden laurels; there was also the fact that there was not just one door, but three -- each equidistant from each other along the Stable's perimeter. A knight, a praetorian, and a hoplite. Three doors for three different groups, perhaps? Well, that notion was supported by the three different gatekeepers I saw as we at last reached a door to Arachna. This one was guarded by a knight just like Caridin, but with a helmet decorated by two eagle wings stretching out from the sides.
"Greetings, Caridin," the knight gatekeeper said as we stopped right outside the door. "Whence you came? T'was an hour ago that thou wast tasked to patrol. Wast thou distracted, or lost? Spiderhole takes time to learn and understand, so there be no shame in admitting such."
With an anxious clear of his throat, Caridin answered hesitantly, "Aye, ser Merturiel. I was lost again. This outside world, it irks me greatly. I beg thee understand that my eyes are used not to the soft glow of torches and the disorienting rock. Given a few more weeks, I promise thee that my sense of direction down here shall improve."
"Be at ease, my boy," the older knight chuckled. "Thine words confirm my suspicions, but as I said there is no shame in it. Yet, at least." Merturiel's eyes drifted over us with a kind, almost fatherly gaze. "And who be these two, Caridin? Serfs volunteering for duty to us knights, or thine friends?"
The junior knight's response was immediate as he cast Lampshade an irritated glare. "The former, sire. Definitely the former."
Merturiel caught the look and rose a brow in response. Then he clicked his tongue. "Well, we shan't turn away such generous and able-bodied ponies such as these. Take them inside, to our barracks. Give them some food and drink, and have them tend to the equipment."
The 'food and drink' part alone was enough to grab my attention. Sweet mercy, I hadn't had a proper meal in... oh, what, two days? And confirming my thought, my stomach let out the most ravenous growl I'd ever heard in my life. I flushed and folded my ears back as the others stared at me, and I could only reply with great self-consciousness, "I, uh, would appreciate the work, s-sire. And I thank you for the gift of your hospitality." More honestly, I added, "I've had precious little of that since I came out here. From anyone. I'm far from home and the only people who would care for me."
Merturiel nodded. "I understand. A new serf, then? Most of the other people here don't like the new serfs; or as the lot of them would call ye, 'slaves'. Too many of them, they say, but that Kabal fellow's insatiable desire for ponies is... astounding." His eyes glimmered with sudden remembrance. "And what dost thou know, thou seems to fit Kabal's description of a certain red pony. But thou can't be he, can thee? That pegasus was branded dead. Splattered on rocks, supposedly."
Now there was a question I couldn't answer straight away. The rags and tattered garments Caridin had lent us made me look sufficiently menial, as did the dirt and wounds I'd acquired over the past few days. The clothing also covered my wings. I supposed I looked just like any other wastelander. The knights thus far had shown themselves to be friendlier than most, if a bit irritable, though; could be trusted?
"Actually, sire, uh... that's why I brought these two here," Caridin said. I swallowed as he leaned close to his superior and whispered something into Merturiel's helmet. The senior knight's eyes widened.
When Caridin withdrew, Merturiel looked right at me. I saw his cheeks rise up within his helmet; clearly he was smiling. "That's twice now thou hast liberated thyself, pony. I'm impressed. Most would be content to simply be allowed to live if they were captured by strangers. But thou art clearly not content just to live. I see freedom is important to thee."
"Ah, it's important to everyone," I said bashfully, waving dismissively as I averted my gaze from the eyes of the senior knight.
"Well," Merturiel murmured, "Clearly not important enough for the lot of these people to fight for it." He stepped back towards the door and pounded an armored hoof onto it. A moment later the grating groan of the Stable door rising up resonated through the chamber, so loud as to draw sight from all nearby.
As the door rose, Merturiel stepped aside. The pure white light of fluorescent bulbs silhouetted him as the metal rose higher and higher. Then his shadowed form gestured within. "In with ye now, ye three. Caridin, take these two to ser Tavish. After they've had their fill, of course. He is in his study, as always."
"Yea, ser Merturiel," replied Caridin as he stepped forward, gesturing for us to come along. "Come now, ye two. Ser Tavish is the one to whom all thy queries may directed."
Lampshade and I glanced to each other, then looked to the entrance before us. He was nervous and uncertain; but I was excited, eager to step into another place like home. Or at least as close to home as I would probably ever get. If I was to do something about what was going on down here, rescue Vox and the legionaries, and eventually resurface to continue our mission, then this was the place to start.
With our mixed agenda, we entered Stable 8 Arachna.
***Roama Victrix***
Stable 8 Arachna was, to say the least, differently designed from my own home. Rather than possessing various levels dedicated to different tasks, Arachna was composed of only two main parts: the 'tower' -- the visible rod as seen from the stony caves of Spiderhole; and the main body, built beneath the rock of the caves. The tower was a high, wide chamber divided into three equal sectors; one for each of the three groups of knights, praetorians, and hoplites. Within each of the sectors were any facilities deemed a necessity by the groups, and attached to the appropriately-designed walls of each area were stairs leading up to two other floors.
Such was the tower. But it was within Arachna's main body itself where, according to Caridin, all the trainees for the three groups were housed and trained. The professionals of each faction lived within the tower of Arachna, and they acted as a peacekeeping force for all of Spiderhole. Thus it was, and thus it had been for the last century.
At least, that was what Caridin managed to tell me as we ascended the painted concrete steps of the knight's sector towards the second level, and all the while I listened intently. Once we reached our destination, however, all my attention was immediately stolen by the sight and smell of food. Exactly what Caridin spoke to my inattentive ears is uncertain -- perhaps it was a little speech about how we were to enjoy ourselves before meeting with ser Tavish? All I know is that I found myself right at the table the moment his voice ceased, and was digging my muzzle into the bowl without a care in the world aside from food.
"I say, I've not seen such ravenous hunger in nigh three years," Caridin commented as he watched Lampshade and I devour our salads like the starving ponies we were. Our meal was composed of bland lettuce, and within were tomatoes and olives that could have been days old. But at the time, and after all I'd gone through, I was just thankful to have something in my stomach. "Ye weren't lying when ye claimed ye hadn't eaten in days. That's the third serving."
Oh. Really, the third? Yes, it was... and the servings themselves were quite sizable, too! With some embarrassment, I took my muzzle out of the bowl and grinned sheepishly. "I hope not to impose. I followed my stomach's lead, but if there's a problem-..."
"Nay, nay," he cut me off, chuckling softly. "'Tis just an amusing sight. Reminds me of my training to become knight-brother to my fellows of the Court of Zebrica. Ser Merturiel was my mentor for most of my squirehood in becoming a Germane knight, see, and he often served me double servings. Said I needed more meat on my bones, he did."
"Well, I know I need more meat my bones," Lampshade laughed, chowing down on a lettuce leaf. Then he threw a cheeky smile Caridin's way as he said, "Say, you never did tell where the nearest bathroom was. Afraid my little friend will put yours to shame if you see it?"
Caridin groaned and rolled his eyes, suddenly looking annoyed all over again. I glared at Lampshade and kicked his leg under the table, making him yelp and jump.
"Huh, what? W-what?" he stammered, eyeing me confusedly. "Did I do something wrong?"
I just growled and shook my head, then looked to Caridin. "Please do excuse my hour-long companion. For all his giddiness and humor, he's a bit... nonchalant," I explained. Yes, I'd known Lampshade for just an hour, and already I was getting to know him quite well: good for a laugh and a smile, wonderful at parties -- just like Excluvius. But he could be, of course, highly inappropriate and downright stupid.
Caridin sighed. "Yes, I've noticed," he replied, softening his gaze as he looked back to us. "I'm simply not given to appreciate his attitude. There are more important, more dire things at stake, and all he can think of is relieving himself? Selfishness abounds."
Lampshade recoiled and brought a hoof to his chest, looking hurt. But then he just went back to eating his salad. "Well, I've not relieved myself in two days, so..." he muttered as he went back to his food, "Guess I'll just go to those rocks outside."
I grimaced. Ew. Okay, not a thought I liked to picture. "Things like what?" I asked, hoping to divert my mind from such imagery.
Caridin didn't respond at first; he just stared down at the cobblestone-patterned metal floor. Then he looked up, and sucked in a breath. "About two-thirds of the people here in Spiderhole are serfs. The first few to make their way into this underground complex were survivors from the war, you see. The fact that a significant number of people had taken shelter so close to Arachna drew the attention of the three factions bred within this Stable. Thus a meeting was held, nearly one-hundred years ago, that determined what we knights, praetorians, and hoplites were to do about the rabble knocking on our door and inhabiting the cultural bastion that was our charge. In the end, we decided cooperation would be best. The people became their own sovereign power, and formed its ruling body: the Committee, seated at the head of the spider. We thus protect our original charge, the cultural treasures of centuries past, and also them. In turn they submit to our authority and supply us with whatever we need."
I was listening intently again, and nodded at his tale. "Sounds like a good thing. The war destroyed so much. That a Stable dedicated to protecting Zebrica's culture also managed to form a thriving community around it is a wonderful circumstance. You must be proud for your part in it all."
He sighed. "I am, yes, but there is one problem that we have tolerated for too long, I think," he replied, and leaned forward on his seat. Lampshade himself now seemed interested; perhaps his stomach had been sated enough to allow his mind to take over. Now if he could just stop with the damn toilets...
Caridin clicked his tongue within his helmet. "It's slavery. Plain and simple," he said. "You yourselves have narrowly escaped it. It is rampant here in Spiderhole, and the worst part is we helped it come to be. For when we first met our newfound fellows, we decided to educate them on the culture of their lands. Many became interested, and when the Committee was formed they organized themselves by interest. Most went into tribal or medieval cultures, and dedicated themselves to using this place's resources to truly relive the life and times of their desired culture."
His eyes narrowed within his visor, looking tired. "We let it be, thinking it good. But we failed to see that many of these cultures proliferated slavery in one way or another. We failed to predict that they might try to emulate it. And so they turned on each other first, before the extremists of each group foraged resources from the surface. Resources such as people." Shaking his head, he continued disgustedly, "It became more commonplace when the Aeolian tribe found manticores. And as the practice grew, we left it alone because we were not to interfere with our own goal, to promote culture. Yet everyday I see new faces, miserable and confused, and immediately I know what happened to them. They were tricked. Captured by the schemes and traps created by the heartless among those outside these walls."
With a reproachful, self-scorning scoff he grumbled, "And all the while I keep telling myself I'm a knight, a champion of honor and chivalry. But I have no right to be one, because I have allowed the vices of others to trample the values I am uphold."
He sighed and planted his forelegs on the table, then laid his chin onto his hooves as he looked at us. Then he smirked. "Thus is the tragic tale of Spiderhole, good-community-gone-wrong. We who have authority are powerless to curb what is both degrading and natural to the cultures we helped ensconce. The... slaves... have become natural here. Too many of the mining and maintenance operations require them, so we can't simply stomp down on the practice. And those who find themselves here will realize that there is no escape except by the front door, the original entrance of this underground museum complex. But that is guarded and barred by the Committee, and only once a week does it open for the Aeolians to fly out and obtain resources. Their duty is to actively acquire more workers; the other would-be slaving tribes have grown to rely on them. They are empowered now, and any who try to cut them off will face the wrath of hundreds of slave-hungry tribals. Not even we are exempt."
With his tale finished, he fell silent. I was frozen, filled with lament that stormed within my mind like a raging typhoon. So I had not only escaped slavery, but also a tradition among at least one of the local groups, the Aeolians. And to think I had come so close. If I hadn't taken the risk of escaping, I could have been swept into a decades-long slaving operation. And the things that could've happened after...
"Well... that sure is something," Lampshade murmured, and cleared his throat. "Now we know. Hell of a history you got here. No offense, though, but no way am I letting anyone go this way again if I can stop them. When I get out of here, this place needs to be flagged as a hazard."
His statement drew Caridin's attention. "When you get out?"
"Yes. When," I confirmed, drawing his gaze. "We don't intend to stay down here, Caridin. The merchant up on the surface, Malek, has been trying to warn people off for some time now. He gave us these." I showed him my combat bracer. My only tool, and the only thing I had on me aside from the rags. "He hopes that someone will help end what's going on down here. I came out this way with a zony companion in the hopes of finding some others that were recently captured by that Kabal you speak of. But now that I know what's going on here, I can't simply find those I'm looking for and then leave. Not like we could, what with the exit being guarded. So I'm going to have to find some way to change what's going on here. One way or another."
Then came another voice, firm and clear, asking, "Truly now?"
We turned to the source of the sound, our eyes looking to the stairs leading up to the third and last floor of Arachna's tower. There on the steps we spotted another knight, with a red cape slung over his shoulder and with his helmet held securely against his chest. The zebra looking at us had his brows upraised, yet I sensed no incredulity over him. But there was a lordly presence in the air, increasing each second he looked us over.
Caridin stood straight up. "Ser Tavish. I was just about to have these two brought up."
The higher-ranking knight just waved Caridin an acknowledgement, keeping his focus on us. "Yes, I know. Merturiel messaged me about some visitors. I simply desired to go down and meet them." Tavish's eyes lingered over me in particular, and he smiled. "When I heard the descriptions of our guests, I just had to go and see them myself. Now I know for certain that this one is, in fact, Goldwreath of Marediolanon."
I was paralyzed right where I sat. "You... y-you know who I am?" I hadn't even told Caridin my name, and yet the knights' leader knew me?
"Oh yes," Tavish said simply as he trotted over and sat down, taking Caridin's seat as the junior knight stepped back with a bow. "Eckris spoke highly of you, as did Horus. Though I'm sure that wouldn't stop them from giving you an earful the next time you get within speaking distance of them." He smirked and shook his head. "But I won't judge. You left in the hopes of securing a future for your people, however damning the method. 'Traitor for a good cause', yes? That's what you told your friend. Me, I simply like to think of you as a... catalyst."
He looked at me as I sat there, staring, unable to fathom and process what had just been revealed to me. So Horus and Eckris now knew... and probably so did Dad... Mom... and Summer Sands, had he told them? Had he let it all out? Oh gods.
Lampshade, who'd wisely kept his silence in the advent of a topic he knew nothing of, finally said with a severely out-of-place cheery tone, "You know, I've no idea what's going on here! I'd love to be enlightened -- but not too enlightened so my soul transcends all mortal bounds and whatnot. I'll visit the temples if I want that."
"Goldwreath here belongs to a Stable, one that has recently been involved in a convoluted situation with the Legion," Tavish said simply. "You've been out in the wasteland, good ser. You must've seen how they have been assimilating every group with even the faintest connection to the Roaman government. Soon they will come here as well, and when that happens... well, suffice it to say the rabble outside will make the situation here far more complicated than it needs to be. I've no quarrel with the Legion, and I hope they'll realize that when they come. Of course, I can't speak for the hundreds occupying these tunnels."
I was seated still, breathing, processing. "I... no, my home, it..." I paused, collecting myself. "G-give me a moment... so, you know of me, and so you must know of them. Do you know what's going on there? After they found out, I mean?"
Tavish gave me a sorry look. "I apologize, but I would not interrogate my colleague. Eckris and I maintain a professional relationship; I felt prodding for any details not readily shared would aggravate him further. What I do know is that he was most distressed following the realization of your departure. There was an uproar of questions, so I heard. How the Legion will react, I do not know."
While I cast my gaze down, speechless, Caridin cleared his throat and chimed in, "Ser, if I may. I was there when you had your talk with praetor Eckris. I feel you may have forgotten about him telling you that despite the recent complications, Marediolanon still hopes our tunnel to them can be completed soon."
My eyes popped wide. "What?"
Tavish waved a hoof over the able, gesturing for calm. "Now, now, let's focus on one thing at a time. Yes, your praetor and the groups here have had the arrangement for a while now -- mutual cooperation and sharing of resources and all that. But I did not forget that bit, Caridin, and I simply hope that Eckris understands that we're quite busy here as well. Much has been happening in Spiderhole as of late. Like a bomb with a fuse, it feels like it will explode. A change is coming, and we guardians of this place need to make sure it is a change beneficial for most."
He looked over Lampshade and I, eyes focusing on us both intently. "I understand you two wish to be free of this place. Good, and more importantly you want change. So do we. As the catalysts we've long been hoping for, I think you could help us. You may have many questions, and the news of your little 'discreet adventure' being discovered so soon has no doubt hit you, Goldwreath. So I ask this: will you stay here for a while and help us? The surface world is changing. The eagles of Roam are snatching up what they believe is theirs, and we of this Stable will not antagonize them. Sadly those outside these walls won't exactly win the Legion's favor with their... practices. They must be removed or changed, and before the eagles come this way. We'd like to learn from the mistakes of many and accept the Roaman government without hassle. There is no point hampering progress with petty convolutions."
"I'm all for that," Lampshade replied, smiling faintly. "Hell, if it means people can stop living in hovels and caves and hollowed out husks of buildings, I'm up for whatever civilization the Legion wants to bring. I'm game. Let's change this place into something other than an organized slaving capital," Lampshade said, and grinned, "Besides, I'm guessing it'd be easier getting out of here afterwards. No point charging the gates when they'll just gun me down with... with guns."
Tavish nodded. "Good. We will find you a disguise suitable for you. And you, Goldwreath?"
I licked my lips, letting out a deep sigh. "Yes... yes, of course. You'll just have to excuse me if I seem tense. All of this... I didn't expect any of it. I wanted to go somewhere and then get back home. All this? This is more than I expected."
Tavish smirked as he stood. "Well, the journey beats the destination, as they say. But don't worry. I'll answer as many questions as I can and do all that can be done for your reputation with your home. You are a doer, Goldwreath, and doers achieve greater things by shrugging off more shackles than most. That you be punished for following your nature is an injustice I hope does not befall you."
Injustice... that reminded me. "Wait," I said as Tavish turned to leave. He stopped and turned. "I came here with a zony. He may be a bit... odd. Have you seen him, by any chance?"
"Does he go by the name Vox Populi?"
"Why... yes, actually. That's... his name." He'd actually told them his name was Vox Populi? He was learning, then.
"Then yes. He's with Kabal, your would-be master. I'm sorry, but that's all I know. He's probably being made to juggle, knowing that tribal fetishist..." Tavish muttered.
But he was at least alive. Now if only the same could be said for Audrius and the others. Still, "Thank you," I said as I stood up as well. Then I smiled. "And I hope that by the time this is all over, this place will be better than it is now."
"It will be," he nodded. "It will be, or we will all be damned for allowing such evil to thrive further." Tavish made a turning motion once again, but stopped abruptly as he faced the stairs going down. Then he smiled. "Ah, come here, girl. Don't be shy; meet our guests. Remember, you need to work on your anxiety if you hope to triumph over it."
As he said these words, a pony mare slowly trotted up from the stairs below. Her steps were so shaky and tiny it was a wonder she was moving at all. Caridin snickered at her approach, but she had my focus -- she and her light-grey coat and bright-blue eyes, and her black mane and tail, and her cutie mark of a shield-shaped fog concealing a shrouded figure. And as she stepped up beside the knight leader, rubbing one foreleg with the other in trembling anxiety, I realized she had my attention not because she was odd, or because she was strange. She had it because she was the most beautiful mare I'd ever seen in my life, and I could only stare.
"Introduce yourself, now," Tavish said encouragingly. "Remember, it's all in the introduction."
The mare lifted her face from the floor and looked us over nervously from behind her falling mane. Biting her lower lip, she tried to speak, but her voice cracked. Then she swallowed. I felt my heart rate escalate to speeds I'd never felt before as she slowly, shyly said, "Hello. Pleased to meet... to meet you. I-I'm Myst."
Entry #6 Grandpa Abernathus got stuck in maintenance again. How does he get stuck in there even when the place is undergoing renovation? The whole damn door was replaced with a solid wooden board warning people to not go in. Well, he's out now after I broke it down. Now he's calling me his personal Door Breaker. I'm flattered, but I'd really like not to do that again.
You can forcibly break down any doors of the Easy and Very Easy lock levels, provided you have any one of the following:
Explosives, hammers, battering rams, or a sufficient amount of Strength.
Chapter VII Usurpation "Do not wait to strike 'til the iron is hot, but make it hot by striking."
"... Message repeats:
"It was yesterday, Apollania.
"It was yesterday when the bulk of your resistance shattered itself against the might of the Roaman Legion. It was yesterday that wanton death was dealt, taking thousands of lives and damaging countless families. It was just yesterday that diplomacy failed and gave way to war -- and with that war, chaos and cruelty, suffering and injustice. It was yesterday, Apollania. And since then, I've felt nothing but regret and sorrow. I wish it could have gone another way.
"I have never wanted to kill. I have wanted only the prosperity of a unified Roaman empire, free of scum like raiders and slavers and bandits. I would have it that my children -- your children -- could grow up free of war, and fear, and terrible uncertainty. I would have them sung off to sleep with lullabies, told stories of valor and courage. I would have it that the Imperial highways be restored, bringing trade and progress to all four corners of mighty Roam. I would have all cultures and ways of life proliferated, spread within the welcoming medium that is a working civilization. I would have peace reign, under the watchful eye of Roam.
"Yet sometimes the hand of change must be forced, and for that I am truly, truly... sorry. It was wrong to let it come to that. It was wrong that violence had to be the answer. Maybe it was the answer! Perhaps in more savage times, when war was the only resolution, violence was the all-solving variable. But these are not those savage times of ignorance, whatever the state of the land. There's a difference between the cruelty of now and the cruelty of two-thousand years ago. That difference is comprehension.
"We now comprehend that no one people is fit to survive whatever the world may throw at it. We now comprehend that unity and cooperation are necessities to advancement to the next echelons of existence. We now comprehend, Apollania... that conflict is, and always has been, a defining yet hindering stage in the growth of every nation. It alone teaches the bitter lesson of the need to self-preserve; for if it were not for the wounds of war, would we treasure peace? I doubt it. There's an Eastern concept, Yin and Yang, that comes to mind. Nothing exists without its counterpart. There can be no peace without war.
"But we have warred long enough, I say. The time for quiet afternoons and safe evenings is dawning. We of the Legion stand at the edge of the Sun, ready to bring that dawning light to you. Will you hide from it, as the despicable, unnatural wasteland would have you do? Or will you embrace it, and in so doing usher forth a new age of knowledge? The choice is yours, Apollania. It always has been. My staff and I await the presence of your chieftains and lords at the base of Marediolanon's mountain. There we may discuss terms for peace.
"This is legate Thanus of Legio IV Valere Victrix Equestrius, signing off. This message shall be repeated in another language shortly, as recorded by me.
"... Messagus repeaatus:
"Naledun en solariste, Apollania..."
***Roama Victrix***
I laid still in my bed, listening as Thanus' message repeated in tribal Trevarii and echoed through the room once more. My thoughts were swimming, yet focused down into one sentence by the quiet, stuffy room that Tavish had given us as a refuge:
"I find that hard to believe."
Lampshade turned his head, looking at me as he laid on his bed as well. "Oh, sure, the Legion's been a bit of an ass as of late, what with the forced assimilation of various tribes and settlements, but I find it nice that they're calling for peace. You know, everybody likes peace. I myself love the piece of pie I had yesterday."
I breathed deep and clicked my tongue. "I'm sure the piece of pie you had -- no, that peace is nice and all," I said with a pointed glare, then grumbled and continued, "But I find it hard to believe, still. I was... there, when that slaughter happened. I saw all those deaths... and I saw how Thanus was like afterwards. Cheery, glad his plan -- whatever it was -- had fallen into place. Maybe it all had to happen, but he didn't express the slightest regret then. Why now?"
I narrowed my gaze, staring at the ceiling. What exactly was Thanus, I asked myself. Was he merely doing his job, as his irritated, tired side professed? Or did his times of satisfaction show a person that reveled in his accomplishments, be they at the expenses of others? I couldn't tell. He'd displayed opposite spectrums of his character in such quick succession that I found it hard to discern him. Friendly one moment, charismatic... then the next, ruthless yet with morals and with a smile. Could one be so diverse naturally, or had he become so through all he had gone through?
Lampshade's eyes widened. "Wait. You... saw it all? You were actually there? You know him?" he asked, with each question sounding more and more incredulous. Then he sat up on the edge of his small bed and looked over at me with surprise. "Damn! That's a hell of a revelation there. I'd have liked to know that the guy I shared a prison with knew the zebra who practically claimed every settlement I passed through for supplies. This kind of knowledge happens to be... you know, important to me. It happens to be a big deal for a lot of people out here! Anything you know could be something that could save ways of life, Goldwreath!"
I rose a brow and looked over at him. "While I'm all for preserving people's lives, it wasn't information that seemed important at the time. I'm only out in this wasteland because I need to make sure my own people stays on the Legion's good side, alright? I... I don't want my opportunity to keep them safe jeopardized any more than it already has been. So you'll have to excuse me if I didn't just bring it up like casual talk about the weather. And you'll have to understand if I don't exactly want to talk about it or how completely fucked up my situation is. I shouldn't even be here, doing this... but I can't just stand by. So damn it if it costs time and puts the thing I'm fighting for at risk, because these people need help."
I turned away and looked off at the wall of the tiny, dusty room, barely illuminated by the single flickering candle in the corner. "Now go to sleep. It's been a long day for both of us, I'm sure."
To think, I'd woken up to an explosion. Then I was forced to watch a battle, and after that got involved in some convoluted business to preserve my people at my own expense. I'd hoped my plan would go unnoticed, yet mere hours later it was found out. Now here I was, trapped underground for who knew how long, in the indirect custody of people who wanted my help for their agenda... really, if Tavish were more like Thanus, it would have been like Marediolanon all over again: complicated, confusing, and right out of the blue. My life had gotten far more tiresome and burdened in just two days than the rest of my years combined, and now all I wanted was some sleep. Sleep... and the far-off hope that maybe it would all be okay again. That in less than a month's time, I could go back to patrolling Marediolanon's halls without a care in the world save making sure late-night partiers and ruffians didn't cause trouble. Was normalcy so much to ask for?
"Fine," Lampshade said, clearly not content, and with an undertone foreboding of many questions yet to come. He wasn't going to just let me keep it all to myself, I knew. It was 'important to him', after all.
With that, the radio turned off and the candle was blown out. Thanus' message kept replaying in my head as I scrutinized every word, trying to discern his true intent. Was he indeed looking for peace, or was this another cog in one of his plans? Would it endanger my home? I could only hope not. I laid there on my bed, hearing nothing but the faint clamor of activity outside in Spiderhole's caverns and seeing nothing but the wooden wall opposite my bed, illuminated by the crack of light seeping in under the doorframe.
Tavish chose well to give us a place outside Arachna, where there was noise. Even in my predicament, I found it easier to fall asleep knowing the world was still going on. And so lids growing heavy, I closed my eyes and fell to a tired, hopeful slumber.
***Roama Victrix***
"Um... excuse me. Can you please wake up? If I'm not disturbing you, that is."
I could feel a hoof gently prodding my shoulder, the touch soft and hesitant. For a good, long moment I forgot all about the outside and the Legion and all such tiresome things, and I smiled and twisted in bed. The voice piqued an ancient memory of mine regarding a friend from before I joined the centuria. "Come on, Wonderglue," I murmured, "Drop the helpless filly act... there're no spiders in the maintenance closet. Your overdone mare eyes won't work on me anymore..."
There was a moment of silence, punctuated by suppressed whimpers of uncertainty. "Erm... okay?" the voice replied, sounding so cutely unsure it brought a grin to my barely-conscious facial muscles. Such a sweet voice, but Wonderglue wasn't going to get me to kill nonexistent spiders this time. "Um, so... I'll just wait over there, until you, erm... wake up."
"Well, while I certainly would love waiting," another voice said, unfamiliar from my memories and thus bringing a frown of confusion to my face, "I'd really like to step outside for some relatively fresh air. You know, the smell of caves is always nice. The moss is just so much more fragrant in the morning. Not like I miss seeing the sun at all or anything. Sigh."
The unfamiliarity of the second voice had me lift my head up, blinking for clearer vision in the wan light. "Who... who are you two?" I asked groggily. Then Lampshade's face became clear, as did the room I was in. Suddenly the vivid memory of the past few days rushed into focus. Everything came back to me in an instant -- that horrible alarm blaring through Marediolanon's halls... the subsequent days... falling into the river... and then finally the terror of having a sack thrown over my face. The devastation wrought on my blissful, wishful fantasy was heart-breaking. I slumped and frowned as I stared at Lampshade, almost laying back down onto the bed out of sheer disappointment.
My sudden morose demeanor must've been quite evident. "Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he said, smirking as he lifted up a small white cup situated right on his hoof. Steam emanated from it, along with the smell of coffee. "So did I, but then I had some of this stuff. I have to tell you, Myst, nothing is more welcoming to a stallion waking up than a nice hot drink. Really gets the noggin working. So... thanks!"
My eyes immediately went to the grey mare from whom the hoof and voice that'd woken me came from. Her own eyes were like dinner plates as she stared at Lampshade with a trembling gaze, her expression blank yet obviously masking great terror. Finally, she put on a forced grin and stuttered, "Y-you're welcome. I, uh, just wanted to... you know, make you both feel welcome and... stuff."
She then caught me looking at her and blushed the pinkest shade I'd ever seen. With an almost desperate need to prove her intentions, she declared, "That's why I came here, honest! It's not like mister Tavish wanted to meet you two again or anything..." She paused, and quickly amended, "W-well actually, that's the real reason I'm here, but... he wanted me to make you two feel welcome, so really both reasons are true..." Now we were both eyeing her, making her cram her limbs and tail as close to her main body as possible as she whimpered and darted her gaze around, chewing her lip nervously. "I, uh... I should just, um, keep quiet."
But she didn't need to speak to be the center of my attention. Venus, deity of beauty, how did this mare manage to look so... so captivating despite her efforts to draw little attention? My heartbeat reached record speeds as I realized she was right there in front of me, less than a meter away. The notion came to mind that if I wanted to touch her, all I needed to do was extend my foreleg. A tempting thought, so strong...
... but I suppressed it. How improper of me to even let such distractions take root in my mind at such a time! If anything, I should have been working with as much haste and intensity as needed to see to it that my objective and all prerequisites were accomplished in the shortest period. Marediolanon was at stake -- my friends, colleagues, and family were at stake. It was not proper to even entertain such... fantasies. Duty first, anything else second. And so reminding myself of what was at stake and thinking over and over that it would just be a passing admiration -- for I had had many and knew their feeling well -- I straightened up and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Thank you, Myst," I said with a smile, and she swallowed and stared at me anxiously. "Your efforts are appreciated. Really. I'm... not from around here, so it's nice to know there are some hospitable people around." Looking over to the small table next to my bed, I spotted a white cup filled with coffee. I carefully picked it up in my hooves and let her see me holding it. "And thank you especially for this," I said, and drank of the beverage prepared for me. Hm. Bitter, but far sweeter than any other of the few coffees I'd had. Better yet, it was hot, and thus spread a reviving warmth to the very tips of my limbs.
When I was done and set the cup back down, Myst dutifully took both our empty glasses and put them onto a wooden rack that she then hung around her neck. Seeming particularly self-conscious as she did so, she made every effort to appear as unimportant as possible. Lampshade and I only focused on her, though, seeing as the rest of the room was sparsely furnished and wasn't the least bit interesting.
She noticed us watching her and faked a cough. "So..." she drawled, then swallowed and looked around, head hung low and face angled to the ground so that we couldn't see her eyes. "I, um, was supposed to take you to mister Tavish as soon as you wanted to go... d-do you want to go now?"
There was something about her that intrigued me. Aside from the, uh... passing sensations I felt in my chest every time she spoke or looked my way, that is. Clearly she was a servant, one of the 'serfs' Caridin mentioned. But there was an air over her that I concluded was uncertainty -- uncertainty of how to do her job, or something else? Whatever the case, a shy, anxious, soft-speaking servant wasn't exactly an ideal one, especially for someone as high-up as Tavish. Thus she seemed out of place, and from that notion grew the suspicion that she hadn't been in Spiderhole long, and therefore hadn't been in servitude for long as well. She wasn't from here. Just like me.
"I believe I do," I replied, standing up. The remaining vestiges of my mind that threw fits of excitement at merely being in her presence rose up in rebellion, but once again I stomped them down.
No distractions, I reminded myself. Not now. I work so that others may be comfortable, not the other way around. I chose to serve, not to be served. Duty to others is my priority, not acceptance.
"There is much Tavish has not explained yet, and if we're to work together to change this place, we must do so soon before any complications arise. Please, do lead the way."
Minutes later we were trotting outside again -- outside being the rocky, lamp-lit caverns of the underground museum complex, of course. Tavish had supplied us the night before with new clothes, much nicer and less itchy than the rags Caridin had initially given us. Yet they were only comfortable physically; my mind was on guard, self-conscious, for almost every pony or zebra we passed looked at us in awe. Tavish had given us the clothes of civilized nobles, and we stuck out like sore thumbs to the common working populace of Spiderhole. Only the few dressed like us paid us little heed -- and no doubt they were real nobles, for they were tended to by entourages of servants.
"I think we're the center of attention," Lampshade commented as we made our way down one of the leg-caverns, at the very tip of which was our built-in-the-rock wooden room that'd once served as residence for the museum's maintenance workers. With his sentence was used a tone suggesting he wasn't entirely put off by the idea. With a devious, scheming little smile he asked, "Does that mean we can get what we want for free? I feel like a celebrity. Do you?"
"Remember why we're here," I told him, feeling like how Myst must have as I trotted along -- anxious and out of place; worried over the discovery of my identity by an individual who'd sought to enslave me. "We're stuck together down here until people can trot about freely, because only then can we leave. I don't know about you, but in the span of time from now until that state is achieved I have about eight people I need to find. In a way, I got them all into this mess... I have to get them out. So no distractions and tomfoolery."
He deflated at my words, then shrugged and kept quiet. The silence had me focus on the heavy, anxious energy building up in me with every person we passed by. This early in the morning, the caves were alive with crowds of multi-colored, multi-cultural zebras and ponies; occasionally, I'd even see a griffin among them, and even one minotaur. The people were hauling wooden crates and wicker baskets, trading at shops built into hollows in the walls. The higher-ups among them totted elaborate weaponry and wore glittering jewelry. They wore the finest clothes of the time and people they represented, some bearing massive collars of feathers and others fine, simple silks. It was as though centuries of Zebrican history were alive right in front of me -- animated, breathing expressions of the world's older times.
And yet for all its beauty, it all felt horrible. Not only because of the troubled circumstance through which my presence here had been forced, but also because I knew all of it had been tainted and built by slavery. No peace, no stability, no civilization should be built on the backs of slaves, no matter how 'fair' or 'just' their treatment. Greatness was to be achieved through one's work, the Greater Good accomplished for the benefit of all. In enslaving others, the denizens of this settlement had forfeited all right to pursue their ends because they took away others' rights to pursue theirs.
The slaves down here were easily picked put from the crowed. They trotted about the tunnels in tattered work clothes, in rags the likes of which I'd worn the day before. There was no open brutalization nor was their public humiliation of these forced laborers, yet on the faces of each we passed I saw misery and despair. When they looked up at me, their eyes lit up with fear and anger, and I felt sick just from wearing the clothes I did. I saw elderly and youth alike pulling crates and bearing massive earthen jars, and they rushed about the caves with a desperate urgency. Wooden scaffoldings were built up from the stony floor to the rocky ceiling, and workers labored along these to create new hollows in the cavern walls. With hammers and chisels they carved out the dwellings of their masters, and the clinking and clanking of their tools came not only from one tunnel, but from every one of the many caverns connected to Spiderhole. The underground community had grown large since its inception, with much of the original spider-shaped tunnel having been mutilated to dig for more room.
A hundred years of labor was evident here. A hundred years of toil had left its mark, and for it the community had prospered. It had survived, and created a rich tradition of culture and diversity -- better yet, it had managed to bring all of that together in peace and governance. But it had done it all with slavery. Like water with a corpse thrown in it, the good this place had achieved was tainted and diseased, deceptive and harmful. They stole people from the surface and gave them only hardship in return. Parasitic. They took and gave no recompense: the very definition of unfairness. And for that they had to be destroyed.
When we finally passed beneath the stone arch that marked our entry of Spiderhole's main body, we made our to the silver rod that was Arachna. Entry into the Stable was easy, and better yet it didn't draw any attention from any of the multitude of people swarming around it; clearly visits from Spiderhole's denizens was common enough to not be strange. Ser Merturiel closed the door behind us, and with a reverberating clang it silenced all outside noise.
I hurriedly took off all the clothing I wore. The robes were hot with the anger of a thousand burning glares that'd been thrown my way, and I wanted none of it. I did not want to feel the guilt for things I had not done. Lampshade did the same, though I suspect it was out of general discomfort rather than sentiment; he was soaked head to hoof in sweat. The tunnels weren't exactly cool, and in here the airconditioned air must've been a blessing.
As we stripped down, Myst shuddered as she stared forward into the divided chamber. "Oh, I really hate going out there. So many people..." she whined. Then she anxiously glanced back at us. "I'll, uh... go call him. Please wait, okay? Okay..." With that she left, but not before casting me a look a second too long to be just a regular glance. All sorts of thoughts and suspicions and fleeting hopes flared up in my mind, distracting me and rendering me frozen where I stood even long after she left.
"I know what you're thinking," Lampshade said next to me, and I looked to him. He was grinning, raising his eyebrows up and down repeatedly in quick succession.
I cleared my throat and and feigned ignorance. "Really now? What?"
His devious, scheming little squinted eyes darted down the hall and back to me. "Myst sure is a fine mare, eh? Shy. Probably submissive. Passive, too -- yes, passive! The perfect target, and the perfect object for imagination."
I'm quite sure my cheeks were redder than my coat as I collected my disguise off the floor and looked away in embarrassment. "I... don't think on such... ideas. I have more important things to consider." I cleared my throat again and looked around discreetly, then located a seat near the thrice-divided hall that separated the sections of each of Arachna's defending groups. I made my way to it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to, uh... sit down."
But he followed. "You know... I read a book once," he said with a drawl, looking up to the ceiling as if recalling something. "A book about biology. Fun stuff! Did you know that, ultimately, the only reason for biological creatures to exist is to procreate? I suppose I could've misread, given how old and rotten the pages were. But! -- and there's always a 'but' -- I rather like the idea that I only exist to procreate. Gives me something to focus on, hehe."
"Please, I really don't-..." I muttered, going even redder.
"Therefore!" he cut in. "Technically... and you can't really argue with technicalities... I think you're going along with your nature. Nothing bad about that... nothing bad about that all."
"Lampshade-..."
"I mean, me, I've only only ever nearly done it a few times. Nearly! Most mares are such teases... all foreplay and no do. But hey, even that was worth the caps! Though now that I think on it, I may have been scammed..."
I turned around and faced him, presenting a forced smile. "Hey, Lampshade?"
"Yeeessss?"
"Please. Shut up," I said as nicely as I could. "I, Lampshade, do not want to speak of or think of such things. They are distractions. They are things meant for the people I work for; that is, I, as a worker for the continued ordered state of my charge, toil and suffer so that others may be afforded the privileges of life -- to love, to enjoy, to be happy. I have my duty, and it is to serve; they have their duty, and it is to prosper so that my toil was not for nothing. Put this in your mind now: I cannot indulge, because it is not my place to. No matter how much I may desire it."
He rose a brow. "Er... what?"
"It means what it means!" I snapped. "Simply put, my life and profession are dedicated to serving. Service requires utmost focus. Thus I cannot let anything distract me. Not even things I would dearly want. Alright?"
"Oooh! Okay, now I get it," he said with a comprehending, proud little smile. Then he frowned and narrowed his gaze. "Wait a minute... that's a boring-ass life. Ever heard of making your own way? You know, living like how you want? Life isn't some single corridor you have to follow. It's a path, with more than a few forks and turns twists. You take the ones you like so that by the end of it all you can look back and feel like you've walked the road that defines you. In doing that, you've left your own mark on the earth, and not just added to the humdrum of commonality. History is made by those that walk roads less travelled -- and in walking their own roads, people walk paths that've never been marked before. That's why the unique have the biggest impact on history, not the common."
I narrowed my gaze. "Perhaps. But I toil for the Greater Good. I sacrifice much of my own freedom to ensure that those of others are unharmed. And when they are harmed, I have the directive to restore it. What you suggest -- finding our own paths? -- that can lead to chaos, especially when there is no authority present to combat it. People who pursue their ends without restriction are like charged particles flying through the air. They may achieve greatness when the situation is right, and it is my job to make sure the situation is right as often as it can be. Thus my kind, the peacekeepers, are the foundation for many other things. If I deviate from my duty, things shall spiral out of control. And that is why indulgence is as a plague to me: poisonous and destructive, and must be avoided at all costs."
He sighed, eyeing me pitifully. "Alright then, fine. Different strokes for different folks." With a rueful smile he said, "Well... there must be balance. Too many of you and the world would be boring. Too many of me and the world would be... well, fun! But maybe too fun. So fun that fun becomes common and boring. Guh, a nightmare..."
He shuddered and stepped away, pursing his lips in thought. At last, feeling his argument over, I sat down. But then he said, "I'll leave you to yourself, then. Just know that it isn't a crime to want, or to feel, or to do. Even you 'peacekeepers' have got to relax sometimes."
I didn't answer, but I did take his words into account. Of course relaxation was necessary. We were not machines, so yes even my kind had to slack off from time to time. "Just not with 'nature-enforced' copulation," I muttered, leaning back against the wall. "Such things draw attachment. Attachment is the greatest distraction. Duty first, and when that is done... be vigilant, still. Vigilance must never end."
Such is what I said to myself, over and over. But I frowned, for even to my mind the lure of indulgence was great. How would it have been, I wondered, if I were not a guard charged with keeping peace? The extra freedom -- freedom afforded for me by the toil of others -- would be great. I would be able to pursue whatever feeling or idea I desired, not simply bask in their temporary bliss as they came upon me before being turned away by the demands of my role. Wasn't that what every feeling of wonder and joy I'd felt since coming outside was? A passing thing, temporary in the face of my lifelong duty? A dream forever to be chased, a freedom out of reach? I wondered if they were... and the bleak answer that came to mind had me shut the topic down immediately.
After a while Myst returned, and with her came Tavish. As they neared, Myst wandered off from the knight leader and idled nearby, trying to be discrete -- her demeanor was the polar opposite of Tavish, who strutted up to us confidently and with clear intent. Nonetheless my eyes drifted to her, and the second I realized I was ogling I mentally slapped myself and forced my attention to the matters at hoof.
"So you two have arrived," Tavish said, and we both gathered near to meet him. "I take it the room I sent you to was adequate? It was all I could secure, given how many people live down here. I could not risk your discovery."
"It was fine," I replied. "Perfectly suited to keeping us out of sight. As was your goal, I presume."
"Bit stuffy in there, though. We're going to live there until we sort all this out?" Lampshade asked, and drew looks from both of us -- from me, a flat, disappointed look; from Tavish, a sorry gaze and the tiniest of sheepish grins.
"Yes, I suppose so," Tavish answered. Lampshade frowned but then shrugged. "Well then, since you're here it's time to discuss details: the means, or modus operandi, if you wish to call it, of our plan. That plan being either abolishing the slavery or -- gods forbid it -- neutralizing all its practitioners within the premises of Spiderhole. We need to accomplish our goal within a small timeframe, so we must take action immediately after a course is set."
"A small timeframe? Why?" I asked. While I certainly wanted this business done with as soon as possible, rushing it could only compromise whatever it was we needed to achieve. I could live with whatever rant my father or Horus could throw my way, so long as I was successful in my initial goal of securing a future for my people; I could not live with having lives lost on my account, on my watch, or of my own accord. If we needed weeks to get this done right... then home could wait.
"The Legion," Tavish replied simply, and gestured for us to come along as he turned and made for the stairs. Myst noticed us ascending the steps and followed, but maintained a safe distance. I once again found myself casting glances back at her as she scampered along anxiously, but my attention was redirected when Tavish spoke again.
"There was a message sent out yesterday. If you had the radio on, you'd have heard it," he explained. "Thanus, the commander of the Legion's nearest army, has called for the leaders of all tribes and factions within the Roaman province of Apollania to attend a peace meeting. Technically, Spiderhole is within Apollania's jurisdiction. As such I and my colleagues here must depart soon and make for the assembly, lest the Legion assume we don't care for peace. We will not risk this place being destroyed by the Legion's wrath, nor will we risk leaving it as volatile as it is. Thus what we must do, we must do soon."
We reached the second floor of the knights' section -- the place we'd eaten at the day before. The difference was that this time there were quite a few knights here now, all sitting and standing and talking, with helmets off and on as they seemed to argue among themselves. There must've been thirty or more them in there. Caridin was there on the side, idly leaning against the wall. But at our approach, he stood straight.
"Gather, knights!" Caridin called, and immediately all activity ceased. The knights came together near the stairs, where Tavish had us stop. When all of them were in a semicircular formation in front of us, they all put a hoof to their chests and bowed their heads. Caridin was the last to do so. "Ser Tavish, we await your command."
Tavish nodded. "Be at ease." And so Caridin relaxed, breaking out of the formal posture. Then Tavish took a step forward and looked each of his knights over, breathing deep.
"You all know why I've gathered you here," he said. "And you all know, also, that I am not one for speeches. So straight to the point -- you know what's at stake. Our charge, tainted and perverted by a century of slavery, can soon be cleansed. Ensconced within this place are a vile people, who have grown to think slavery natural and acceptable. They are wrong. Slavery is a callous act, one that we have permitted for too long in the name of preservation."
He shook his head and frowned, making a sweeping gesture with a foreleg. "No more. Our oof is forced by circumstance. The Imperial Roaman Legion, the remnants of the government that birthed our home, has surfaced. They demand compliance for the restoration of Roam, and I have heard it that they have little tolerance for resistance. They are here now, in Apollania; less than a day's trot from our very own Arachna. I am sure you have kept yourselves up to date."
Many of the knights nodded and muttered among each other in agreement; many simply took the news without reaction, but then it was hard to see if they reacted at all underneath their helmets. Clearly knowledge of the Legion's presence and activity was common, even underground.
Tavish continued, "We of the Court of Zebrica have allotted a maximum of two days to purge this place of its plague. Any means are permitted, but deaths are to be avoided if possible. Be systematic. Find the true supporters of this... ill-meaning madness, and sort them out from the more adaptable. The victims of this place are not to be harmed under any circumstance. I repeat, under any circumstance. There is no concrete plan, just a goal to which you must work. That is all. Dismissed."
The knights all gave a bow, and with a focused silence they went on their way; some stayed and continued as though Tavish hadn't come along at all, which surprised me; others proceeded with haste down the stairs, and the shy grey mare waiting anxiously along their path could only squeal and stay still, almost as if she believed that if she didn't move then she was invisible.
Tavish looked over the few knights left on the floor and gave a nod. Then he turned, gesturing for us to follow. "Now, let us proceed," he said, starting to step down the stairs. But I stopped him with a hoof.
"Hold up. So there's no actual plan? Only the goal? What... what manner of..." Surely such an important event needed more spine to its fulfillment! I'd expected a meeting to discuss steps, obstacles cited, opinions put forth -- had the knights no thought on it? They just hear 'do this', and they would do it? I shook my head incredulously, "How could your people even agree to just doing this? I thought this place had been keeping itself up on slavery for a hundred years. Caridin himself said the practice can't simply be stomped down! Yet all I saw just now was that you basically gathered some people, told them to do something, and then they went off and to do it. Whatever happened to prudence? Whatever happened caution?"
Lampshade nodded in agreement, then opened his mouth wide and threw a hoof in the air to give a loud, boisterous statement. But Tavish simply beat him to the intent, saying, "I dare say I've taken more cautious steps than you think."
He gestured at the few remaining knights in the area, "See these people? Not a one among them has been up here for more than two years. They grew up in this Stable, sheltered by its walls, housed in its corridors. But even in here they felt what was transpiring right outside their shelter. Previous generations of knights -- their fathers, their grandfathers -- came back and retired, old and frail and crippled. They returned marred by incidents of violence and injustice that occurred with rampant frequency out here.
"And it wasn't so just with us knights. Our fellow praetorians and hoplites sustained casualties, too. In fact, I'd say they had it harder. They actually lost lives to the time of violent integration, and in the end the result is slavery? Do you realize what manner of insult that is to us guardians, we who were given identities as champions of the best Zebrica had to offer? Us knights were raised on the code of chivalry, that the weak and helpless must be protected; the praetorians, on the revised Imperial code that declares all Zebricans as Roamans, and defends their rights as such; and the hoplites of Mac'adon, who believe that in the face of hardship a poor person can fight just as well and honorably as a noble. In partaking in this... foul practice, the people here have earned nothing but our ire from the moment they first enslaved each other down to the moment they began abductions from the surface."
"I agree wholeheartedly," I replied, keeping my tone calm and stern. "But I fail to see what precaution it is you've taken. I fail to see how all this justifies sending your people out to chase after a goal with nothing but an order, and no means."
He looked between me and Lampshade, then twisted his mouth into a half-smile. "The means, Goldwreath," he said with a deep breath, "Lies in my belief that the fury bred within the hearts and minds of my brethren will move them to a unified effort. I have confidence that they have made their own plans; I couldn't trust myself to make one even if the world were to end. I'm a terrible planner, but I know my fellows. I know that they're convening right outside at this moment, discussing how to identify exactly who and where the supporters of slavery are. And I know also that with some help, they can succeed. That is where you come in; you, who are the final straw, the catalyst of change, can make sure they succeed. Because your desire to be free will inspire others in the face of adversity, and only because of that will they believe that they can be free, too."
So he said. Yes, I wanted to be free; yes, I wanted the others to be free, too. But why bet everything on me? Why form a nigh-nonexistent plan on the chance that others would look to me for inspiration? The thought made me uncomfortable, and made me think that perhaps, under all his lordly and magisterial air, Tavish wasn't simply very lazy. But if it was really the only shot we had... fine. So be it. Not like I knew the place well enough to try to make my own plan.
"Fine. I'll go help your people accomplish... well, whatever they feel needs to be done. But I'm not so sure about this."
Lampshade threw me a quizzical look, then rolled his eyes and smiled with a sigh. "Well, it seems we're trotting off to another adventure; and one without plans, too. Wonderful! Not like I'd like something more reassuring to depend on if things go badly. You know, plans are overrated like that."
Tavish smirked. "In times of hardship, people will appreciate you. They will realize that sometimes it takes just a bit of humor to make the world seem so much less grey." Then he looked to us both with brows upraised, "Now, before anything else: your disguises. Lampshade, I've found nothing that could suit and fit you better than an old jester's dress. Believe me, jesters are more common down here than you think, so people won't look at you twice."
"Oh. Lovely. Maybe I can distract them all from enslaving by asking them to throw pies in my face. Wonderful," Lampshade said with a little grumble, then muttered, "I'm not like a jester... jesters are stupid. Comedians are much better. More modern and more... comedic."
"And for Goldwreath," Tavish continued before Lampshade could continue down his train of thought, "I managed to secure a suit of armor. It may lack the emblem of your home, and maybe it won't fit you as well. The purple crest is a new addition, too, but aside from that you should look just like a guard again. Feeling like one is up to you."
I rose my brows in surprise. "You found me a suit of modern cohors urbanae lorica segmentata?" (Lorica segmentata being the classical suit of segmented Roaman armor known by all peoples around the world)
He smiled, "Even better."
***Roama Victrix***
"It suits him well, yes. He's like a guard of Marediolanon again."
Well, I looked close to being a guard, for sure. The helmet was tight though, and made me stare at myself in the mirror; the large purple crest was quite the odd sight. The purple cape hanging off my side was likewise queer. The gladius strapped to my side was similar enough to my own -- almost an exact match, and for that I was grateful. The armor's fit was fine, but moving felt awkward and stiff with my wings crammed beneath the plates. The cold metal lining the inside of the ballistic praetorian lorica felt strange, unwelcoming. Over months of wearing my own armor back in Marediolanon, the interior of my suit somehow came to feel warm, soft... as though greeting me each cold morning with refuge and comfort. Not at all like what I wore now. This was the armor for the Praetorians, the elite of the elite in Roam's military. Wearing it was like declaring myself to be of a superior race, of a higher tier of being. It felt wrong, like I was trying to be someone I wasn't.
But that was the point. It was my disguise, after all. And it wasn't so uncomfortable when I remembered those words Dad had said to me, about my cutie mark: about my destined importance in times to come. In fact, for a few seconds of time as I looked at myself in that glass, it almost felt like fate -- like some kind of... divine will, as though I was supposed to be wearing the armor. That by wearing it, greatness would suddenly be much closer than it had ever been. The thought and notion made me smile, feeling oddly fulfilled and proud as I raised my head high and felt an empowering air of authority and duty over me -- the authority and duty, as endowed by my new identity, to right the wrongs committed in that... underground slave ring. Except this time duty didn't feel like an obligation, as I'd earlier come to think of it and of all my previous actions as a peacekeeper. Now it felt like something natural to me, something... I was born to do. Something to make the world know me for.
Tavish nodded and smiled. "The Praetorians were a fairly diverse bunch, especially in the late empire if my knowledge of that section of history is accurate. It justifies their current roster of ponies and zebras, at least. You'll fit right in."
I turned away from the mirror to face them as they scrutinized my new look. Tavish seemed impressed, but Imperius -- the Praetorians' pony leader, who sported a white coat and a gold mane, and who'd come shortly after his subordinates handed me the disguise -- seemed skeptical. He stood, rubbing his stubble of a beard and inspecting me with narrowed eyes.
"Perhaps. But the people will suspect, nonetheless. Kabal's rantings were fiery, Tavish. I would not be surprised if that insufferable dog had his goons out there searching for a body -- and as they will not find one, I can only conclude that Kabal will be on his guard. You know him. He does not let grudges die."
Tavish frowned, then pursed his lips and clicked his tongue. "Perhaps we can use some of the hoplites' warpaint. Your group does use that, right? Warpaint?"
"No," Imperius answered flatly, and stepped close to fix me with a glare. Then his gaze softened as he gave the helmet a light smack. He grumbled as he then proceeded to adjust the tightness of the cheek guards against my face. I felt oddly embarrassed, and made some effort to adjust the chestpiece, which was also a bit constricting. But Imperius just frowned and shook his head, then put it back the way it was. Then he stepped back and looked me over again, eyes hard and unkind. I looked to every piece of the equipment, trying to spot something to straighten out. But there was nothing to be corrected, not to my awareness.
Finally, he sighed. "It will do," he said in a resigned tone. "It will have to do."
Tavish rose a brow, looking to his colleague in confusion. "Is something wrong? We've wanted to take action for years now. Now that we're actually going to do something, you seem... well, like you usually seem. Grim."
A tiny snort of derision came in reply. "Well, between you having no plan and Onosander being all-too-eager to 'finally get things started', someone has to think of the risks. Someone has to face reality, Tavish."
"And that person is you?" Tavish questioned, turning to him. "What sort of reality are we facing, then?"
"Need it be said?" Imperius growled, shaking his head. "One-hundred years, Tavish. Two generations before us could not stop this madness. When they tried, they died -- so ask yourself: are we really what we say we are? Are we actually the protectors of this place, or are we ourselves slaves to the twisted desires of these people? We bent knee for too long. If we do this, they may just scoff at us. And we can't just kill them; oh no, because that 'goes against all we stand for and would put us at their level', right? What makes this time different, hm? Him?"
Imperius pointed a hoof right at me, making me shrink back slightly as all attention was focused on me. Then he grumbled and covered his face. "Gah, I loathe this whole idea. I loathe that we are, once again, risking everything -- our dignity, our credibility, our standing -- on a fool's errand."
He pulled the hoof away and stomped it down in frustration. "The reality I speak of, Tavish, is that we are in both no position to act nor do we have a solid foundation to put ourselves in that position! We hear the Legion is coming, so we panic. Then this one falls down into the hole and escapes. Apparently that's impressive enough for you, because you then think making him the catalyst of the change we desperately need is a good idea. Ridiculous! Is that prudence and wisdom, or desperation? What are his qualifications? A guard he is, yes, but just a guard! I doubt he has any real tactical or psychological intelligence to benefit us. Why, then, do you entrust our future to him?"
His words cut right at me like a hot whip, and by the time his rant was done I felt heavy, with weak legs and a crumbling resolve. I could not deny that he was right. I really was just a guard. Everything I'd done was done off the immediate impulse of the situation, and honestly none of my actions had led to any benefit -- worry and frustration for my home; death and capture for my retinue... and I could only imagine what I'd bring to this place, with such weight placed on me. Nothing good, I was sure.
But Tavish didn't seem to agree. "Ah, Imperius..." he said softly, smiling and stepping close to his seething compatriot. "First off, I'd just like to say that it's nice you finally got to blow off that steam. It's been swelling up in there for a while now, I take it."
Imperius glared, but then sighed and softened his gaze. Suddenly his expression was much less merciless. "You know that very well. While you and Onosander have been pursuing ideologies, I've had to bear with actually keeping order."
"And I'm sorry for that," Tavish replied calmly, looking apologetic. "It wasn't fair to put the weight on you. I'm sure Onosander would agree. And yes, you're right... we really aren't in a position to do anything. I know what it must feel like for you: a big, swirling mess, full of heat and tension; it's reaching it's most volatile point, and then we decide to throw some random thing in there in the hope that it stabilizes. A fool's hope."
"It is, yes," Imperius replied with a grumble. "What are you getting at?"
Tavish stepped right up to his fellow, and with a deep sigh he bowed his head. Then he looked back up, smiling. "Well, don't you see it? The pattern, the chain of events? You've never believed in coincidences. So how could it be that the most determined, most courageous would-be slave we've ever encountered comes to our doorstep just as necessity reaches its peak? What were the chances that Caridin would be there, waiting for him as he broke out of his cage, and no one else? Why, what were the chances that the commotion Goldwreath has caused by infuriating Kabal would distract the creature so much that he can't seem to spend a waking second not raving about it? He is vulnerable now, paranoid. He is making Goldwreath into a demon, 'the only one that ever escaped his grasp' -- a person to be feared and hunted down. They key word there is fear; and as you know, fear twists and corrupts. Makes people vulnerable."
"It makes people cautious!" Imperius retorted. "Kabal will only be on the lookout for Goldwreath, then. That only makes things harder, because we can't put him to work as easily. Where, then, is our advantage? Where, then, is his use in all this?"
Instead of trying to directly defend his claim, Tavish just grinned, "You've said it yourself. Kabal will be cautious. And when his fears are realized, he will be crippled with indecision. You know how he is. We will reveal Goldwreath at an opportune time, and use that to our advantage."
My eyes went wide. "Wait. What?"
"You heard me," Tavish said easily, smiling at me. "Nothing quite unsettles a person like the realization of their fears. Which is why you will be attempting to incite civil unrest, Goldwreath -- success is secondary, but paralyzing this place's toxic committee is paramount. We will use that opportunity to strike. And when Spiderhole's sickening government falls, the people can easily be sorted out. There are only two types of people here, after all: the type that advocates liberty, and the type that promotes slavery."
I expected Imperius and the small band of gathered knights and praetorians to disagree -- I sure as hell wanted them to. Me, the focus of all that? Me, the cause of paralysis and the reason for the fall of a government? Nonsense! I couldn't possibly do any of that, especially the whole 'incite civil unrest' shit. Surely the more sensible people in this bunch would know better, and all of us would be spared whatever mistake I'd make.
I looked to Imperius, expecting him to brush the idea off. To my horror, I realized he was actually considering it. And then I looked to the others -- they all were.
"I thought you said you had no plan," Imperius said, eyeing Tavish with a narrowed gaze. "This... actually sounds like a plan. And it actually has some sense to it."
Has some sense to it? Oh, gods no...
"Well, listening to your down-to-earth rants has its uses," Tavish smirked. "I made this one up just now. And judging from your tone, it's struck a note. You're good with this aren't you?"
Imperius growled softly and covered his face. Then with a sigh he replied, "I'll not give you the satisfaction of hearing the answer. Just tell me what's next, because all of this has left me with a terrible headache."
"Uh... yeah, I do get to say no, right? Right?" I asked, drawing glances. Imperius gave me a narrow-eyed, somehow pitiful look. Tavish just chuckled.
"Oh, my dear boy, of course you do! Of course you get to say no, of course..." the zebra said, "But necessity demands you do it anyway. So! Without further delay, the next step." He looked to two of the knights in the area, then gestured to me.
"Take him near Kabal's last know location. Send Lampshade along, when he is done strapping on that jester's outfit. Remember, he is to be revealed at a timely moment, when anxiety and fear can cause tremendous paralysis. When it is done, we will know. In the meantime, we will be gathering the others. This madness will end at last."
With my mouth agape, I was taken and dragged over to the stairs, and barely did I gain enough sense to climb down the steps on my own. I felt sluggish, like I'd been whacked on the head so hard all feeling and thought was reduced to an empty numbness. So this was the plan? Made up on the spot, and somehow I'd become its centerpiece? From no plan to this... fuck, it was like the whole universe was conspiring to have me placed always on the forefront of all these ridiculous endeavors.
But I just sucked it up. It was my duty, I reminded myself. All endeavors necessary to restoring my home to its former peace were to be done, whatever the cost. And as Arachna's doors once more opened and I stepped out, a temporary but new addition to the ranks of the local peacekeepers, I found some faint but steadily increasing solace in knowing that I was not alone. Like in all previous instances of my acting on behalf of civility, I was with others. People of similar intent, and who needed me as much as I needed them. And once their grievance was settled and they could begin anew and establish an order fit for the solidification of localized peace, they could serve as a message that even in the harshness of the world, it only takes work and the right mindset to rebuild what was lost.
And likewise, it takes adversity for goodness to spring forth, with each higher tier of challenge yielding a greater good each time. So why should my home's troubles be the only cause for a world-fixing order to show itself? There was no reason any place could not be a proper catalyst for such change, for every location brought to a harmonious state was like a bone in the skeleton of the Greater Good -- a piece, yes... but an integral piece. That is why I imagined, as I was lead out once more into the tunnels and among the people that Arachna was my home. And thus it deserved my equal effort to sow peace so that others might see and realize the goodness that could be.
The journey beats the destination, Tavish had said. Yes, perhaps... in fact, thinking on it, I wondered if I couldn't do more good outside than in my home, where routine patrols were all I contributed to keeping the peace. Marediolanon was ordered enough, exemplary enough; the wasteland, though, needed help. I could wander, trekking the wastes in constant search of wrongs to be righted... and the idea at the time did not bother me at all. Radical, yes! But the notion activated a fervent desire in me, a kind of relentless zeal to purge all evil from the world. Spiderhole might only be the start of a glorious crusade, a long and arduous journey that, from the strain required for it, could yield such wondrous things that all people might be inspired to dedicate their lives to it.
Hm. Purge evil from the world... surely that was a goal worth indefinitely prolonging my return home for. Surely that was the only goal truly worth an individual's full, undiluted attention. And quite surely it was the only goal that would yield things the world desperately needed: peace and order, and a future for all.
And when it is done, a thought said in my mind, Chaos shall know that in the end, all things must be reunited with the Primordial Pattern that spawned us all, and that deviating from it only causes misery. So work, Goldwreath, and be not afraid. This is just the beginning.
I thought I was thinking those things. Really, I did. But the moment the 'Primordial Pattern' was mentioned and my name was uttered, I knew that I was not alone in my mind. A chilling sense of horror spread out within me... followed immediately after by the strangest, most natural feeling of satisfaction and contentment, as though I'd stumbled upon some bliss-inducing truth. I should have been worried. I should have shut down all thought in a desperate attempt to not think that maybe some horrific mind-monster was taking over me from within. But I didn't... and somehow that only intensified the sensations.
The mark of great people is a welcoming attitude to the unknown, said the thought again, and then chuckled, I have a feeling I did right choosing you. But for now... you will not remember me. You will only feel as you do at this moment, for you will need this zeal to accomplish the task ahead. But let these words echo within you: be not afraid of greatness, for it will come naturally to you. Such is my promise. Also, watch for the one who will help you. You will know him when he speaks to you. Now, go... and forget.
And just like that, I simply trotted along down the halls towards Kabal's last know location, fervent and eager in my desire to purge wrongness from the world. A noble goal, and one I felt more than happy to chase.
Now... genuine happiness, or implanted happiness? Even now I cannot quite say.
*
***Roama Victrix***
Rhythmic vibrations pulsed through the rickety wooden flooring in accordance with the rise and fall of a nearby clamor, causing an irritating creaking to squeal into our ears as we ascended the steps. An orange, eldritch light emanated from the end of the upwards-leading tunnel, and along with that light came the roaring of a crowd -- clearly, some event was underway. And from how their cheers dropped to surprised gasps and rose back up to excited shouting, I could only guess that some kind of sport or competition was the context in which the event was occurring.
"It's routine down here," one of the praetorians said, voice just loud enough to be heard over the increasing noise. "The slavers, they like to pit the 'acquired laborers' against each other. There're two stages to it: one lethal, wherein the weak are separated from the strong -- for only strong, capable workers are wanted down here, after all -- and the second purely for recreation, enjoyment. Honing of skills, friendly competition. As close as you'll get to that down here, anyway."
"Right. So, w-which stage are we dropping in on?" Lampshade asked, fidgeting uncomfortably in his jester's outfit. From the way he moved, I couldn't quite tell if he found the disguise itchy, or if it was infested with ants. Given how old and worn it looked, though... probably both. With a quick glance to me and a sour frown right after, he hissed under his breath, "Fucking cuntsuckers, why do they even need me? Not like this style of comedy is really appreciated anymore... and I look ridiculous." He glared at the ground as we went along, and his jingling hat fell to one side of his head. Moving it back into place with a hoof, he grumbled, "Damn medieval entertainment culture..."
A knight noticed his sour demeanor, and under his visor I saw his cheeks rise up into a smirk. But then answering the question, he said, "The latter, and thank thy luck for that." Then he nearly fell to the ground as one of the old boards snapped underneath his weight. He reeled back, nearly losing his balance and almost knocking down one of his fellows.
"Gods, how I loathe that occurrence!" he fumed as he recovered, holding a hoof to his chest as he panted and pressed his other hoof against the stone wall. Then shaking his head and returning to the topic, he continued as we resumed our journey up, "See, as of late, the Aeolians, to whom Kabal is like a chief, have had little luck in their foraging. Thus Spiderhole's denizens cannot simply kill off new arrivals for minor imperfections, as they did before. And likewise the balance between fatal and non-fatal combat has been rather lopsided. A fortuitous circumstance. Maybe the surfacers have finally realized the cruel deception harbored by the drylands above."
"Speaking of new arrivals," another knight interjected, "I overheard how a bunch of recent zebras are to be thrust into the program, ignoring all semblance of schedules and queues. Quite the show the crowd was promised. 'Fighters from the dreaded Legion' shouted that starved little slave-colt. The one who greeted the first few waves of shoppers in the market this morning, remember?"
I went rigid at his words, and promptly stopped dead in my tracks.
"Oh. Yes, I remember," the other knight replied, and noticed me motionless behind him. The praetorians ceased trotting and bade the others do the same. Then the knight approached, "Something wrong?"
"No," I replied flatly, looking over the decayed wooden floor. Then I met their eyes. "But we have to get that bunch out of there. Looking for them is the reason I even wound up in this place. They risked their lives for me, and I shall do the same. Now, when are they to perform?"
The knight shrugged. "I know not. But if thou needs them released, thou shall have to wait until the crowd grows bored of them. And depending on the competence of the cagemaster, thy endeavor may prove difficult. But we shall help in whatever way we can, so long as this shan't waylay our plans."
"It won't," I promised, and cracked a little smile. "In fact, I'd like to think our plans will begin with freeing them. If Kabal is to be paralyzed by my mere presence, then having the one he fears free those he managed to capture will surely mean his downfall. So long as you people will be ready to take advantage of the opportunity?"
"We here with you will be, yes. All four of us. Him..." The knight glanced to Lampshade as the pony struggled to not trip over the loose sleeves of his outfit, "... I can't be sure of. Perhaps he can distract so that you may get yourself into position. But ultimately our plans hang on the hope that lords Onosander, Tavish, and Imperius will have the rest of the Committee under their heels soon after Spiderhole's foremost slaver is brought down. How they will know when it is time to strike, I do not know. But they will find a way."
"Well, for a plan made less than an hour ago to meet a goal needed in just a few days, it will have to do," I replied in a resigned tone. Then swallowing down a lump in my throat, I nodded over to the tunnel's exit. "Now, let's go finish this. Let the slavery here end with this swift strike, and may nothing go wrong." Under my breath, I murmured, "Please, let nothing go wrong..."
Cautiously, for fear of the old boards beneath us snapping, we made our way up. And when at last we passed underneath the cavemouth and entered the chamber beyond, the glow of orange flames dancing on countless torches attached to nearby walls beamed into our eyes. To such conditions of illumination my senses were not used to, and so I paused and covered my face. Meanwhile the others proceeded. With my eyes still covered I stepped forward, over a stone path this time. I heard the noise all around me, bouncing off the walls; not deafening, but there was nothing else to be heard now but wild whistling and cheering. At length, I withdrew my limb and gazed around.
An arena. A wide, metal-caged circular space floored with rough stone and surrounded by terraced cave rock that sloped up towards the ceiling of the almost perfectly spherical chamber. The terraces were divided into four equal sections, each one separated from the others by stony steps that led down to a flat area of smooth and polished cement that acted as the foundation for the arena itself. Only two of those stairways proceeded from a cavemouth; one of them the steps I myself walked upon, and the other on the opposite side, running down from a metal gate in the walls of stone. To both sides of the metal gate were dense screens of barbed metal -- like windows, I thought, but clearly meant to prevent any kind of movement through them.
That was what I saw, thanks to the light of nearly a hundred torches that lined in tiers the circular walls of the chamber. And I also saw that the area was packed full of onlookers of all kinds of species: zebras, ponies, griffons. They occupied all the space provided for them, to the point that some of them were squashed in between others. There were even some minotaurs acting as guards, clad in fiendishly sharp plates of armor and armed with wicked scythes and axes. There were six of them -- one for each stairwell, and to my dread I realized the closest was right next to me, glaring through a helmet with vertical eyeslits. I had no doubt his weapon could cleave me in half in one strike.
With how his expression appeared beneath his helmet, I actually thought he'd quell me. Instead he just looked away, saying idly in a voice that was deep with strength and low with boredom, "Praetorian."
It took me a moment to realize what he'd just said was a nonchalant acknowledgement of my presence. Then in rushed response to his statement, I stuttered, "Greetings, f-fellow guard."
The reply struck him as queer. "Fellow guard? Are you new?" he asked, directing his massive form to face me. His armor clinked and clanked, shining with reflected torchlight. "We're different, you and I. We protect different things -- I, the holders of my chains: the Committee; and you the fleeting ideals of an old Roam. Not only that, but you also protect because it is your duty. I do so because I am forced. Thus we are not 'fellows', for technically I fall under those whom you are sworn to defend. Thusly, I am merely a specialized slave. Possessing more than most down here, yes... but still just a slave."
What? A huge minotaur like him, a slave? "I... did not know."
"Then you are new," he deadpanned, sighing. "My name is Cerebrum. A title bestowed upon me by my fellows, who you may see in this chamber right now, because I thought and pondered and learned more so than they. We were of the Mountain Guard clan before we were assaulted one day; our numbers having been thinned by subsequent famine, we were easy prey. Instead of killing us off, our captors brought us here. We are fed and housed, and that is enough for some of us. But I would love nothing more than to become my own person, free to pursue whatever goal it is I desire. Obviously, being a slave is not conducive to that want."
The abrupt openness stunned me for a moment, and piqued my curiosity. I spared a look over at my companions; they seemed to be mingling with the crowd, showing no signs of worry or urgency. Perhaps they were delaying the plan in the hopes that a clearer, more feasible means would show itself? As simple as the plan already was, its success hung by a thread, and Tavish did not say to rush this first step. Perhaps just a little delay was what we needed.
"Well, nice to meet you Cerebrum. My name is Goldwreath, and yes I am... 'new'," I replied, then licked my lips said, "And you're quite open about yourself. Not really something I expected from anyone here. Why is that?"
"Because you seem like the type that will help me achieve that goal," he said with a grin. "In fact, I think all of us down here would appreciate your help, praetorian. You who have eluded Kabal must be down here for reasons other than just rescuing your companions."
I stood still, my throat suddenly feeling dry. Then I rasped out, "I don't know what you're talking about." Seriously? First my departure from Marediolanon, now this? Was no secret I desired to keep to remain as such? Was everything I partook in that required subtlety doomed to be known as though knowledge of it was commonplace?
"Oh, don't play coy." He took his helmet off, revealing a head sporting horns trimmed down to mere inches and hair dyed bright red on the scalp, patterned with white markings that made the colored fur display a painting of a brain. Then he leaned down and looked me in the eye. "Let's not play dumb here. Kabal comes home one day seething, cursing as though the opportunity of a lifetime had been robbed of him. No sign of the offender's corpse was spotted, hinting that he did not die. Kabal raves on, describing in great detail the pony who outfoxed him." He cocked an eye and looked me head to hoof, and sweat broke onto my brow and flowed down my neck as anxiety swelled within me.
"Now suddenly knights and praetorians come into this arena; an occurrence that would never happen unless the local constabulary believed some event of drastic nature were to go down -- something more sinister, still, than the organized brutality held daily within these confines," he continued, and the surety in his voice made it all the more difficult to maintain my steady face. "Other than that, and if what I have heard of this place's history proves true, they may also be here to, once again, attempt to usurp the slavers. Both possibilities are equally as likely -- and the chances of either happening at all are increased by the fact that you, a pony by the nigh-exact description given by Kabal himself, are here. Such a string of occurrences cannot simply be coincidence, no? So you are he, I take it. The only soul to ever free himself of that damnable zebra's shackles."
I sighed. "Guess there aren't a lot of crimson ponies with golden laurel, Roaman numeral cutie marks..." Looking up, "Yeah, I'm him. And I want to free these people because it's wrong to make property of others, no matter how well they're housed or fed. People should be free to make their own decisions, influenced by nature and not by the overbearing will of others. So if you want to free yourself, then you're welcome to try. But I sure would appreciate your help. There's more at stake here than the currently-enslaved."
At first, he just nodded. And he continued nodding. Then finally he smiled; a wide, satisfied grin. "Said truly, praetorian. Said truly indeed... for so few people would ever look beyond themselves, to work for things not just for their own welfare. I will help you, so that you may help all of us. There are good people here, but they are weak, scared. Passive, like grass swaying to any direction the wind desires. Time to put some spine in their backs, eh? Now, what is the plan?"
With some trepidation, I relayed the plan in hushed whispers. It took only a minute, and all the while I hid behind his massive form as he kneeled on the floor, listening under the guise of adjusting his armor.
"There is far more chance involved in this plan than I would like... but it will have to do," he said in a resigned tone. Then with some eagerness he continued, "If surprise and swiftness prove to be impossibilities, then brute force and persistence will need to be at the ready. I may provide both. If lord Tavish's plan does pull through, and in less than an hour we are hunting down slavers through these tunnels as they cower in confusion and chaos, then I will put myself to work cutting them down... and I will enjoy it, very much."
I swallowed, both glad to have an ally to call upon if things went sour and sickened by the image of cleaved slavers. "Well, let's hope it doesn't have to come to that. Now listen, I still have to find those fellows of mine who were taken. I can't risk them being killed in the mayhem that'll likely ensue with whatever next step we take. What I need now is cover; can you get over to the others there and tell them I need a distraction? Just something to keep eyes off me as I scour around."
Cerebrum looked over to where the pairs of knights and praetorians stood: against a wall, pretending (or perhaps not pretending) to chat up a bunch of young zebra mares and a female griffon. It seemed like they were actually having a good time, and thank goodness Lampshade found someone who appeared to appreciate medieval entertainment. The griffon's eyes were completely focused on him as he threw his head around, and the shiny metal balls attached to his hat were like orbs of fire in the torchlit cavern. The display was so mesmerizingly flashy and marvelous that it drew the attention of nearby onlookers away from the arena itself, where, I noticed, whatever transpiring event must have reached a lull; crowd reactions were down to a minimum now, almost as if an intermission in a program had been reached.
"It seems like they are distracting enough as it is," Cerebrum noted, and shook his head. "Besides, my presence will merely frighten the weaker-willed of the passersby. Best for me to just keep watch over you and your allies. This intermission is a time of rotation -- people will leave here, people will enter here... and all of they who move will provide you sufficient cover to travel about as you see fit. If you'll search, search now."
He was right. Now people were getting up and moving; gathering in clumps along the terraced stone seats, leaving the area or entering it... some just sat where they were, patiently waiting for the things to heat up again. "So it is a lull," I muttered, stepping out from behind him and looking the area over. With so many people up and about, flashing all their colors and showing off their expensive clothes or their meager tunics, I figured nobody would mind a praetorian being near a minotaur guard. "Why is there a lull?"
"It's possible that either one of the two sides called for rest, or perhaps someone got hurt enough that there must be a timeout," Cerebrum explained. "The fights here aren't purely for entertainment, you see. Think of them as training sessions open for the public to see, in the case of the non-lethal spectacles, under which all of today's fights fall under. So the fighting can go on all day, all night, until both parties decide to end it. There is no schedule for it. People come and go as they please, to watch for as long as they want. Sometimes their volume and fervency in watching the spectacle equals the spirit they possess for the more lethal occasions, and they cheer and scream as though the two sides were to actually kill each other. But if both those sides, or either, decide to call for a break? Well, it has to happen. A lopsided fight is no fun to watch, and so people leave."
I nodded, trying to get a good look at the fighting floor through all the moving heads of the people in my view. "So someone either got too tired to fight, or they got too seriously injured for a mere practice run. That it?"
"Yes, exactly."
I began moving forward, wading into the outer crowds to make my way to the center of the chamber. Cerebrum stood back up, tall and imposing as he put his helmet back on. Menacing as he was, I was glad he was on our side. Come a horrible mistake in our frail plan, his intervention could mean the difference between life or death. One of the knights stared at me as I proceeded deeper down, into thicker clumps of people; and he looked to Cerebrum, as well. With my own glance to the minotaur, I seemed to get it across to the knight that the titan of guard was of no threat -- so long as his words were true, and I sincerely hoped they were.
At last, through thick and thin crowds, I made it to my destination. The metal fence caging the platform was stained with ancient blood, and patches of the mesh had clearly been welded back into place. An acrid, piercing stench hung in the hot, stuffy air -- the scent of sweat and alcohol. The source of the latter was clear; the terrace right in front of the platform was littered with empty bottles of alcoholic beverages.
Breathing through my mouth, I made my way around the arena, searching for the Legionaries. Then I spared a good, long look right into the cage. The sight sent me rigid, and I pressed myself right against the metal wiring with a fiery urgency shooting through my veins.
Inside, Audrius crawled forward, stifling a bleeding bruise on his chest with a hoof. His smashed face and swollen eyes rendered him nigh unrecognizable. And inside with him were the others, slumped against the cage or laying in crumpled heaps on the stone floor. Wooden weapons were splintered and strewn about, and some pieces were clearly lodged inside the bodies of the battered legionaries.
Staring at them through the gap in the fence, I was frozen in horror. Then a hoof thumped down right onto the floor inside of the cage, blocking my vision and sending me reeling back. I fell backwards and landed on my haunches on the seats, beholding the owner of the hoof in greater detail.
Kabal shook his head, running a hoof over his mane and chuckling. There was a smugness to his tone that could taunt even the most nonchalant soul into combat. Then he approached the crawling Audrius and sat down on his back, and the Legionary collapsed with a cry of pain. The tribal zebra laid a hoof under his chin, seeming to think. "Hm. I wrong. You seven weren't a challenge. Shame. And here I thought Legion's troops would be made of sterner meat."
They'd been at this for hours. Thrust into combat with Kabal himself, trapped in a cage with no escape... it was their torture. Somehow outmatched by the one slaver, the Legionaries were now nothing but groaning lumps of battered meat. Barely able to move, barely alive; used for entertainment, jeered at by countless bystanders. One more round and they were done for.
Audrius, less than five feet from me, blubbered through swollen lips, "G-go hang yourself, slaver... the Legion won't take our loss lightly. Kill us. Go ahead, I dare you. But if you intend to keep that... the Eagle, then expect... expect vengeance to come knocking."
The mentioning of the Aquila coincided perfectly with a glitter of metal on the stone floor near Kabal's hooves and a very sudden spike of adrenaline within me. As if by gravity, my sight was drawn to the golden eagle laying on the stone, and with a similar gentle yet irresistible sensation I felt a tension swelling up within me, aching with the need to retrieve the idol and follow through with the plan to end this place.
"Ooh, more sheep to the slaughter, then!" Kabal laughed, drawing my attention. Then just as quickly as he snubbed the threat off, he put on a serious face. Glancing around and looking my way for a heart-stopping split second, he then lifted Audrius's face off of the ground. "You can't keep doing this, you know," he said. "Marching around, taking people's freedom. Destroying livelihoods and homes to try to force us to adopt your ways of life. All us 'savages' want is chance to continue the traditions passed down from our forefathers. Why you take that right away?"
The Legionary below him gasped, "Because... you all live in squalor. Disease and famine grip you all with an iron fist. Not even the most well-off tribe can say it's happy. And rights? Hah... you talk of rights, eh? Well... despite their savagery, we try to protect all people of the wasteland indiscriminately. People's rights to live in comfort and safety supersede their freedom to do what they want -- especially when what they want is to take other people's rights away." He coughed, then with a broken chuckle he continued, "You should be grateful. If you surrender now, you'd be pardoned. Forgiven for all your crimes against Roaman law. We're not the merciless crusaders you think we are. Because all it'd take for it to stop -- the wars, the suffering of both our peoples -- is just a bit of sense in your heads."
Kabal's expression was nothing but a flat stare of mock contemplation. "Alright. Well, when that sense comes, you be the first to know. But for now..." He stood up, stretching his back and rolling his shoulders. Then once more he looked around, noticing the dispersed crowd. Then he smiled and raised a hoof, calling, "Father, over here! Come see what I've got you."
At his call, a zebra stallion emerged from the crowd, clad in an old leather cloak with a feathered collar. A spiraling wooden staff was held in his hoof as he approached, his aged face grinning with a kind of mischievous delight. The stallion neared me, then made a sharp turn towards an idling pony in a leather-studded toga. At the zebra's approach, the pony hastily galloped over to a handle on the perimeter of the cage and, with a desperate fumbling, opened a section of the metal fence for the incoming zebra. The old stallion gave the trembling buck a roll of his eyes and entered the arena, then took Kabal into an embrace.
Kabal pulled away after a moment. "Father, I have such a gift awaiting you as you have not had before," he said, then without skipping a beat he knelt down and dragged Audrius over, then yanked his head up by the mane. "Seven soldiers of the Legion, father! The dreaded dogs have had a taste of the suffering they put our people through. What would you have me do to them now? They are here to entertain, you most of all."
Kabal's father let out a loud hum of contemplation, regarding the beaten legionaries with some interest. Then he looked to Kabal, his words coming out with an aged rasp, "My son, the best entertainment I could have now is watching your pony mares dance for us while we rest atop a bed of hay, eating crispy lettuce and and dried berries and listening to music. As amusing as a crowd's cheers are, you know I'm really not into this kind of thing anymore. I am old, and with age comes a need for... placidity. And really, you mustn't take your frustrations out on these heathen. That pony you lost is a small loss compared to your gain of these seven. Some would say that perhaps the loss will serve a greater purpose."
Kabal groaned and drooped his head. "Father, not more of this. I've been nagged at by sister already, I don't need it from you."
Their conversation was lost to me as I realized that the situation was fortuitous. Kabal and his father, together in a metal cage, vulnerable... the opportune moment had revealed itself. The only problem now was getting the legionaries out of there. I couldn't risk their safety in the event that our little coup resulted in more violence than anticipated -- yet I couldn't risk foiling everything by attempting, and possibly failing, to get them out. Apparently, a key point in the plan was the shock factor of my reveal, and surely something so anticlimactic as being caught would mitigate that shock.
I sighed. Well, it was time to start. If I wanted to shock Kabal into an inactive, incredulous state long enough for Tavish and the others to do their work, I had to make this dramatic... which couldn't be very hard. A caged stage dipping into the center of a spherical chamber would have a lot of eyes on it... hopefully one of those eyes being someone who'd tell Tavish it was go time.
With a swallow, I stood up. My heart began pounding into my ears, the beat so powerful the more delicate plates of my armor racketed slightly. My breath became quick and erratic as I approached the pony -- the cagemaster, I realized. Poor buck didn't seem competent at all; and why would he be? He was a slave. Just as we all would surely be if we failed and were defeated. And as I moved, I was quite certain that somewhere behind me, all the way on the highest tiers of the terraced steps, were the knights and Cerebrum, all eyeing me and getting themselves ready. They had to be ready, because this was it.
"You there. I require entry to the platform, now," I demanded, trying to sound more calm and in control than I felt I was. Sweat broke out on my face and all over my armored body, and I felt twitchy as I discreetly locked the gladius' handle on my bracer, readying it for a quick draw.
The pony froze where he stood, clearly not used to having to confront someone of the three factions. Then he shifted uncomfortably, muttering incoherently for a moment. "I... I can't unless you're going to participate in a practice fight. For that you'd need an opponent, and the only one in there that can fight is..." He swallowed, then glanced into the cage, "... him."
I nodded, and with a firm resolution replied, "Exactly." I sucked in a deep breath as his eyes widened. "For your own good and for the good of all others enslaved... let me in. Please."
The pony blinked. Then he swallowed and nodded jerkily. A soft jingling came from his hooves as the key made its way to the lock.
But I didn't enter even when the gate creaked open slightly. It turned out there was more than one entrance and more than one cagemaster -- on the opposite end of the arena, a similar gate swung outwards, and in stepped a blindfolded zony, gagged and bound in metal chains attached to a heavy metal collar. Two armored tribal zebras flanked him as he was shoved inside and fell to his front knees at Kabal's hooves.
"Fine, father," Kabal said, stepping towards the bound Vox Populi as I stared at the scene through the opened gate. All my attention was focused on the zony, and thankfully for me so was everyone else's. "The Legionaries can live. I don't know how sister take that. She lost her mother to them, if you remember. But how about this one? Spouting sacrilege and claiming to bring our doom -- a crazed 'prophet'. I say kill him and make everyone watch."
Oh no.
The old stallion smirked, his lips twisted into a half-smile. He threw a hoof into the air out of nonchalant amusement. "Very well. Do as you like. I will be watching; do show me how creative you've gotten."
Oh no.
Kabal grinned in delight. Then with a deep breath he called out into the chamber, "May I please have everyone's attention! An execution is about to take place."
Immediately the crowd sent their gazes to the platform, all showing interest of some degree ranging from eager anticipation to anxiety. They huddled closer, cramping around the first sets of terraces like moths to a fire, and it sickened me even as the predicament of Vox Populi's life fought for my full attention. None of the many among the masses I was working to free was devoid of the glimmer of excitement. Had they been down here so long they had grown used to the cruelty; maybe even become intoxicated by it? Had they who toiled under the whips of their masters come to enjoy the flagellation of their fellows, thinking that, not being subject to the pain themselves, they were rising in the hierarchy? From slave to slaver -- in control, in power? It was an illusion, a circle closing in on itself, never bringing beneficial progress. And yet I knew: some here had been taken in by it. Deluded. If they took up arms against us when the attack began, trying to protect the very institution that had indoctrinated them, then they would have to be put down.
Kabal gazed out imperiously over the assembled crowd. Then waving a hoof over them and over the chained Vox he declared, "Many years we have spent down here, growing, and thriving. Where others fight under the light of Sol, we live in contentment in the darkness. We continue the traditions of our forefathers, rightfully minding our own business while others quarrel above ground. They war, and kill, and destroy -- but us? Merely at the cost of some liberty, we give ourselves security. Merely at the cost of some sacrifice, we afford for us all some order in an otherwise chaotic world."
The gathered crowd nodded and agreed, some looking quite taken in by his statement. Yet others looked spiteful, frowning and crossing their forelimbs. I could well imagine that the lifelong denizens of Spiderhole had benefited from the slaving tradition, and as such lived comfortable and relaxed lives; the acquired workers and their descendants, however, would have had little to their name for all the work they did.
The zebra slavemaster then stepped aside, gesturing at Vox. "Yet sometimes, the surface sends us someone who will not cooperate. Someone who will not help us build our future or help in managing our property. This one, especially, claims he will end Spiderhole, despite all it has achieved and survived." With a sardonic smirk he jeered, "And he will not do it alone, he says. Hah! Who there to help him? Those three groups of dictators, who would teach and educate us but try to put us down as our true selves are revealed? You people, who know very well the consequences of rebellion? Or something else? There can be no doubt, or else all we have worked so long for will be lost."
Kabal drew a jagged knife from its scabbard, the ringing it evoked resonating through the air like the song of death. The gesture drew a thundering applause and such a roar of delight from many of the bystanders that the vibrations shook the cavern and threw loose pebbles from the ceiling and off the walls.
All it caused in me was a necessity-driven rush to burst in and save the restrained Vox Populi. Truly there was nothing that could be more pressing than imminent death. Thoughtless, I threw the metal gate wide open and charged in just as Kabal raised the dagger for the strike, and with one word I ground the entire ceremony to a halt:
"Cease!"
The immediate response to my interjection was silence, followed right after by mutters of shock and surprise. Kabal and his father looked me over in astonishment, and the longer they looked the wider the eyes of the former grew. The blade hanging over the zony's head fell to the floor as the zebra's limbs went weak, and with terror etched on his face he stepped back.
I myself was suddenly struck with fear; specifically, the terror of being focused on. Like I'd told you earlier, at that time in my life, being the center of attention was... most nerve-racking. It was as if I had a giant magnifying glass over me, concentrating all scrutiny to ridicule my every move. As a guard in Marediolanon, I was always on the sidelines of any public ceremony. I watched the doors and greeted people. Simple stuff. For so much fuss to be created around a simple guard... what if I made a mistake? Blew everything? Flinched at the most critical moment? Mere days outside and already so much was hung around my neck.
Still, breathing down my anxiety, I afforded myself just a moment to smile in relief. One of our gambits had paid off -- Kabal, true to Tavish's speculation, was now in a state of disbelieving trauma; at least, so it seemed. My next words and lines had to be careful, my actions crafted to the intent of intensifying the heavy weight of my presence while at the same time edging to a means of retrieving all my captured companions. Even as I stood there, opposite the slavemaster himself, I could feel the eyes of not only the many bystanders in the chamber, but also those of Legionaries laying still on the ground. It was going to be tough, it not being a talent of mine to effectively ridicule and belittle someone... but for this one guy, I had to. I wanted to.
"Your days of thieving people from the surface are over," I said sharply, my teeth clenched and eyes glaring. It was intended as an act, yes, but I could't help but feel sincere in my denunciation. This zebra had acted as the hand for an underground slaving operation for too long. Lives irretrievable were lost to him; relationships, shattered by the separation of loved ones. I could doubt the convictions of the other slavers, and from what I had seen I could question as well the worth of some of the slaves I was toiling to save. But Kabal enjoyed his work, and for that I could have no doubt about the need to end him as he was.
Proceeding slowly towards the surprised slaver I continued, "There is no place for you on this earth. For too long you have ruined the lives of others, sending them off to toil while callously sifting ponies to your own personal harem. Your twisted conscience holds spite for my people, who share only part of the blame for the apocalypse. In a savage and barbaric time you contribute only misery, and when you devoid a world of life you call it civilization."
Kabal's father snorted and laughed. "Nonsense! You're clearly out of your head, whoever you are. Spiderhole represents one of the last free settlements south of Roam -- here, life is dictated by the majority, not by a council of an elitist few. You look around you, and what do you see? You may see slavery, but it is not so. Our diverse people serve one another in exchange for benefits. None of it is forced. Their temporary toil is their own step towards better lives, and even those we claim from the surface can agree there is more purpose here than anywhere else. Even they can agree that they are not anymore free up there than they are here. For on the surface all are truly without choice, forced to resort to drastic measures to sate their needs and wants. Up there, desperation becomes everyone's master -- here, labor actually bears fruit! Suffering and sweat will eventually afford people freedom, as can be attested by anyone you may find here. Ask them! Ask them and you will see that down here the servant can become the master; that the borrower may become the owner; and that the lowly may become opulent. For Spiderhole was made to rouse people from their complacency, and to bring to them the lessons the past has taught us: that competition ensures that they in control are always the best, and that those below them will learn from competent leaders."
I looked around us, at the crowd, and I saw the hard gazes looking back my way. I saw the scornful looks of the masters and the contemptuous faces of the laborers. My suspicions were correct; the slaves down here had developed a mentality of competition, wherein they had to prove themselves the better worker to earn their master's favor. And when the master were to pass, they would succeed them; then, in taking up the mantle of superiority, they would lord over the next batch of laborers. It wasn't wrong in itself; competition had always been the basis for the more qualified to rise up. But this was different simply because there was only one prize to fight for, one goal to be had. There were no alternatives in this competition that didn't result in misery for anyone brave enough to say no to the enforcement of a detrimental social hierarchy. Marediolanon always had a place for everyone, no matter their aptitude or skills. My home didn't need to reduce anyone to petty strife. Why should Spiderhole?
I looked back to them and fixed my gaze on the petrified Kabal. "So that's it then? You capture people, force them to fight amongst themselves to earn the reward of power of others, and you say they have more freedom here than up there? No. I think this place is more like a furnace, tapping any in it in crushing, heated conflict. You only bring out the worst in people here, evoking their imperfections to make them concede that the only way to live is to hurt others. This cannot continue." With every bit of sincerity I could muster, "And I will not let it continue."
Just then a rumbling ran through the ground, vibrating in the chamber like a tremor. Panic spread as people jumped up, some dispersing and running for the exits. Distant screams and shouts echoed through the caverns and reverberated through the entrance tunnels, reaching our ears and carrying the cracks of gunshots and the clanging of metal; even the mighty roars of manticores. One fierce, unified cry was particularly distinct and accompanied by three equally unique horns:
"For the Senate and People of Roam, CHARGE!"
If there was any doubt as to what that panic-inducing rumble was, it was dissipated. This was it. The attack had begun.
"By the gods, it's another one of their coups," Kabal's father growled. "They'll never learn, will they? Halt their advance at the head of the Spider!" he ordered, pointing to some of his lackeys mixed in with the fleeing crowd "Mountain Guards, with me! Aeolians, to your mounts! Trevarii, get the pikes! And son..."
He glanced over his shoulder at his petrified offspring, still standing there with his widened eyes to the ground and evading all eye contact with me. Then the elderly stallion huffed and swiped the dropped blade off the ground, then shoved it right up against Kabal's chest. The slavemaster stirred, eyeing the knife confusedly.
With a seething look over at me and a snort of disgust at the incapacitated Legionaries and at the bound Vox Populi, the elder said, "I expect them to be corpses by the time I return. I will defend our home from this uprising. Do not fail to eradicate these nuisances, or we will have a problem on our hooves."
That said, he rushed out the nearest gate and, flanked by two armored zebras that shoved and pushed through the crowd to clear him a path, he moved to leave the chamber. Three of the four titanic minotaurs stomped through the chamber to join him -- the fourth, like the duo pairs of praetorians and knights, accompanied by the jester-dressed Lampshade, were nowhere to be seen. Probably swept off in the bedlam of chaos that accompanied the crowd's initial dispersement.
Meanwhile, I stood in the chamber facing Kabal. The battle engaged all throughout Spiderhole was savage, the noise flowing through the caverns like an endless clanging that could make one's ears bleed. Every second there was death, and I alone could not stop any of it. The decision to take lives was now for those who wanted to decide this place's future. So I didn't worry for anyone, simply because there was nothing I could do for them.
Such chaos was now out of my ability to stop, and yet there was a strangely isolated feeling to the arena. Everything felt concentrated, all my perception focused on just the one opponent I had to face down. If I could end him here and now, the damage to Spiderhole's slaving operation could be irreparable in the case that we won -- its total abolishment would follow suit. But first there was a matter to be tended to.
Seeming exhausted, Vox Populi slumped in his bindings and collapsed onto his side, falling limp to the ground. The sight stirred me to rush over and help, but my motion was ceased by the reminder that Kabal would not simply idle by while I rescued my companions. I took some comfort in seeing one of the less wounded Legionaries crawl over and drag him aside to where the rest of them had managed to clump together. They were alive, and I could ask for no more than that. They had faced enough torment for me to understand their desire to just lay down and let things run their course.
I picked up a battered but intact wooden shield off the ground, locking it and my gladius onto the pair of bracers just above my hooves. Then I cautiously approached Kabal, who dropped into a battle stance. Things felt surreal as we circled each other.
"We don't have to fight, you know," I reasoned, hoping that this last shot at diplomacy could spare the world more bloodshed. As dire as Kabal's removal was, I was not above letting him go to try finding a new life. Something to atone for his sins and counteract the effects of his slavery. I hadn't killed anyone yet and I had no desire to start. Only necessity made the notion bearable. "Drop the knife and run. Leave this place and all ties behind. Make use of yourself to the world you've preyed upon for so long."
"I... I dreamt of this," he replied, eyeing me with fear and uncertainty. "I stood in this very arena, holding this knife. A form made of liquid like a mixture of shadow and light faced me, encased in the armor of the ancients... and I fought it. But for three straight nights of same dream, none of my battles ever ended in victory. Always, the form's blade struck my chest and felled me. Always..." He swallowed and stepped back, stretching his blade forward and getting as much distance between me and him.
"I see now that it was a warning of this. My gods tried to tell me, but I... I would not believe it. Now the moment is here, and it will play out just as I dreamed. You say that you will let me go, but how can you? You, who have been sent here by the gods for reasons unknown to eradicate all we have done in their name? You cannot defy their order, can you, demon?"
"I can, and I will," I said, "Because no gods sent me. The circumstances of my presence here are not of my own doing, but of yours. Yet all I desire of this place is an end to the slavery. That means killing you... or running you out of here."
The statement clearly struck him, for he froze where he stood. Then slowly, he inched his way backwards towards the open metal gate. "Just like that? I can turn around and... leave? You no chase? You no kill me?"
The reply stuck in my throat a moment, held back by vestiges of doubt. Could I let him loose into the world? Would he return to a life of vice, or try to amend himself? Was there any chance he'd make an effort to do better at all? After all he'd done, the pain he put me through... the derailment of my mission, and the suffering he'd forced on so many people... was it even worth considering?
Two forces tugged at my mind. Mercy, or justice? Vox Populi would certainly have chosen the latter, but I was not him. He wouldn't have been silenced by indecision like I was. But luckily, I had a way to deal with indecision that I deemed fair and unbiased. Thus, I resorted to the mental coinflip.
So, Chance, the ruler of all decisions... is it even worth considering?
"Yes," I said at last, "It can be just like that. But I cannot say the same for your father, or anyone else. The attack has begun, and if we win I don't know what the lords of the Roaman triumvirate will do to the practitioners of this act. If they resist, they will most certainly die."
He nodded, moving out the gate. Then, step by step, he backpedalled, eyeing me the whole time with cautious paranoia. His trotting turned to cantering, and before a minute had passed he'd climbed up the stairs and left the chamber. Thus was he joined with the chaos churning beyond the eery silence of the arena, and it was my hope that he found his way through it all to leave this place... or died within it if he chose to fight.
I let out a deep breath, suddenly feeling numb and weak. My limbs trembled slightly as I stared down the way he went, my gaze narrowing. So much for that... and yet, in a way, I was glad. The chance was his to do better with himself. I just prayed he'd use that chance.
"You actually let that SoB go..." one of the Legionaries rasped. It was Lucius. "Not that I really protest. The guy packed a wallop. You'd have had your flank handed to you. I'm just glad he's finally gone."
I rushed over to them where they lay in a clump, noticing that all their injuries were all meant to detriment movement and cause pain; none of them were serious. "I did. I'd have killed him otherwise, but that just doesn't sit well with me. Maybe someday I'll really be forced to take a life. But I think that in a world that's already lost so much, adding to that loss is just cruel. So I'll hold out as long as I can."
"Eh," he shrugged, coughing slightly. "Good luck with that. Necessity's a bitch -- won't be long before that time comes. Just saying."
I nodded solemnly. "So will you be safe here? I'd stand and guard, but there's a battle out there that I started. I'm guessing the attackers would expect to see me, at least."
"Hey, you tell me," he replied, clearing his throat roughly. "Place's empty, and that's a godsend after a whole day of jeers and pain. Some nice and quiet... oh yeah. Nobody's likely to come by, but give me a gun and I'll keep a look out."
I shook my head. "I don't have one."
"Well, then go. Go fight the battle. If these people have any honor, then they'll not kill a bunch of cripples. Best I can tell, we look dead enough -- if we just lay down and not talk, we should be good."
I nodded, standing up. "Alright. Keep safe. I'll be back soon... I hope."
I hurriedly went for the gates as they set themselves up in positions they could lie down in comfortably. In my haste, I almost forgot something very important.
"G-Goldwreath," Audrius called out, his voice strained. I stopped, turning around. "The Aquila... take it. It's laid down on stone for too long. That's not its purpose. Take it and kick those slaver bastards in the ass. Do it as a favor for me... 'cause I'd do it myself if I could."
I went and picked the golden idol up by the shaft, a ripple of energy and adrenaline surging through me at the touch. At the time, I just assumed it was my mind's reaction to being entrusted with such a sacred relic. Then I gave Audrius a quick nod of acknowledgement, and was once more on my way. He smiled gratefully and relaxed, leaning his head against the metal wire.
"Thanks for coming back for us," I heard him say quietly as I left the arena and galloped out of the chamber.
***Roama Victrix***
It was just like the aftermath of the battle of Marediolanon in the hallway I trotted through. The smells were the same, those of phosphorus from explosives and char from burnt wood. Slagged metal oozed and hardened on the sides, the metal support beams they once were reduced to liquid. And then there were bodies -- impaled slaver warriors from all kinds of Zebrican cultures lay on the ground, swords and lances run through their chests. Slumped against a corner, a knight sat crumpled against the wall, a wickedly curved shiv run through his visor. Two praetorian bodies with limbs blown off piled together at the bottom of a smoking crater. All around me was carnage and destruction, compressed by the tight space of the tunnel. It took every effort on my part to not mind the gore and to just get to where I could be of use.
It didn't take long. I just followed the sounds and the screams, and soon enough I wound up in a curved passageway that I remembered passing through. I'd taken it earlier, when I left Arachna with my escorts in search of Kabal. To think what'd once been a cavern lined with carpentry workshops and clothing stores was now a battleground. On one side, a wall of shielded hoplites sporting a bristling array of pikes; on the other, tribal zebras armed with throwing axes and belts arrayed with glass vials of glowing, bubbling liquid.
Both groups were at a standstill, neither moving in to take the other out. The hoplites had blocked off a section of the cavern with their pikes, and were keeping on the defensive. The tribals, meanwhile, occasionally prodded at their defenses with a throwing axe or a glass vial. The latter left a hissing stain on the shield it hit, and the hoplite wielding it was forced to drop the corroding metal and let another take his place.
"Quit it. You're not getting in," a hoplite irritatedly told the offending zebras as I carefully approached from the side, relieved by the lack of blatant killing but cautious, still, of how my presence would be taken. "Whole armies broke upon phalanxes in the past. A bunch of ragtag skirmishers don't stand a chance. How about you just drop the weapons, and proceed to the designated cavern for your exclusion from this purge, eh? Do us both a favor."
The leader of the impatient zebras, an elderly stallion wearing a brightly multicolored mohawk headdress, just spat back, "No! You block us from the fight for our home. This life is all my sons know! If it takes all day and all our acids and brews, we will melt all your shields and kill you up close. Then we will go for your fellows, until this uprising of yours is put down. Just like the past coups were."
The hoplite grumbled and hook his head, then noticed me. "Hey, you there! You're... Goldwreath, right? Well, don't just stand there boy, get over here! These pikes are the only things keeping these fellows standing still, and we aren't going to break formation and move over to you. Now hurry!"
I rushed over, galloping in a curve to evade the throwing axes lobbed my way, all the while muttering curses at how the guy just had to announce my presence. I used the ruined stalls for cover as I neared the hoplite formation, and ducked as one of the tribals jumped at me, overshooting and missing me entirely. But the others were rushing over as well, and the phalanx wall was still a ways off -- I needed to hurry, lest I be assaulted by about twenty angry-looking zebras who would chop my head off with axes and corrode my body with acid.
As the zebra landed and turned around, readying to tackle me, I sent a swift kick to his face and galloped again. Reaching that phalanx was my only chance, and I sure hoped they'd move the pikes aside long enough for me to get through! The ground trembled the zebras gave chase, willing to use my entrance as an opportunity to try to break through the phalanx wall. Anticipating the possibility, the hoplites braced for impact.
"Let them come! Rear pikes, lower to compensate! We let that pony through, and that pony only! Nothing else gets past this line!"
My gladius and the shaft of the Aquila clanking against my armored chest, I galloped past the formation, narrowly evading impaling myself against the pikes. As soon as I'd cleared the tiny opening afforded for me, the hoplites tightened once more, sealing the gap. I let out a cry of relief, panting for breath as I slowed to halt.
My reprieve was short-lived, however, as flasks of acid were thrown in after me. One broke on the stony wall just next to me, splattering my helmet and shoulderplates with hissing liquid. Dispersed stinging erupted over my exposed left foreleg (the other having been covered by the still-attached wooden shield) as acidic splash found its way onto my skin. I bit back a yelp and hobbled towards a nearby corner as more acid struck the ground and the walls, splattering my protected torso but biting at my neck. Once in safety, I collapsed to the ground, my affected flesh in such pain I couldn't help but tremble.
"Goldwreath!" the hoplite shouted in between grunts and yells as the wall was assaulted by the determined attackers. Pained cries came from both sides as pikes were thrust and axes were swung, and I didn't need to look around the corner to know people were getting killed. "You okay?"
"Not... really..." I replied, hissing as I watched spots of ugly brownish red form on my foreleg. It was like maggots had eaten their way out of my flesh. "But... I'm alive. More like that and I won't be, though. Should I expect more of this over here?"
"Luckily, no!" he shouted back, and with a fierce cry I heard a squishy splatter come from their direction, followed by a shout of agony that prompted the attackers to call for a retreat. "Just head down the tunnel. It'll take you to the Stable. Our forces are consolidated just outside Arachna. Far as I know, we managed to trap the Committee at Spiderhole's head and have thus far managed to prevent their soldiers from freeing them. Plan now is to keep beating back the rescue waves, while simultaneously moving in to slowly corrode the Committee's standing defenders. Soon as we have either their surrender or their heads, Spiderhole should be ours."
I nodded, painstakingly rising to my hooves. "Sounds like you've got it all under control," I commented as I slowly trotted forward, going slow so as to not aggravate the burns.
"Heh, we do!" he boasted, sounding particularly glad about it. "Thrice these savages stopped us from ending their despicable practices. Each time we surrendered, scampering back to Arachna like beaten dogs. But now it'll end, and there's you to thank for that! Tavish did right choosing you."
Well, good, I thought, glad that Spiderhole's century-long state of unrest and tension could finally be brought to an end. I trusted the place would be in better hooves when the guardian factions took over. Maybe the peace wouldn't be immediate, but in perhaps a few months the last of Spiderhole's grim past could be scrubbed away, leaving nothing but a gleaming beacon -- an example to all of the great good that could sprout from adversity. The working infrastructure that'd been mistakenly used for cruel practices could be converted to something better, a sign of better times to come should people just do their share of work. For our suffering was our own making, and ending it was as simple as having faith in one's own potential for good.
***Roama Victrix***
The main market had changed drastically from how it appeared just hours ago. What was once a wide chamber lined with shops and paved with crisscrossing paths was now almost totally flat -- the wooden frames and tarps of the stalls had been broken apart, most of them thrown to the walls and leaving the entire area bare, save for the paths themselves.
Instead, where once there was a maze of a market, there were now assembled formations of soldiers. Praetorians stood in a large square just beside the massive cylinder of Arachna; they were in a formation that was not unlike the morning assembly of the centuria back in Marediolanon. Beside them stood their brethren; on their left, a glistening battalion of knights arranged into two long lines, and beside the knights were hoplites in full battle gear laid out in a rectangle, all their pikes reaching up to the ceiling like a bristling array of thorns. Behind their formations, a mass of assorted Spiderhole citizens sat -- pony, zebra, griffon, and all others alike waited anxiously for the result of the conflict. From a nearby cave more of them came to add to the nervous population, escorted by either one of the three factions. Some of the arrivals were bloodied, others even resisting the soldiers' efforts to lead them to what must have been a safe zone amidst the embattled Spiderhole.
Given clearance by a guarding praetorian (who had the kind consideration to offer me a syringe of painkillers to numb the pain of my burns), I approached the Stable and the people gathered about it. Scattered bloodstains dotted the chamber, and nearby were several white cloths covering the corpses of the fallen. I'd have thought the guardian factions would afford only their dead such a gesture, yet I saw no bodies of the slavers' causalities strewn about. If burial rites were to be given equally to slaver and guardian alike in the times to come, then the giver of such decencies had my approval and support.
The people I was seeking out weren't at all hard to find. Separate from their kin and gathered over a wooden table, as well as wearing the most imposing paraphernalia their cultures possessed, the three lords of Spiderhole's guardians stuck out like beacons. And so I approached them.
"No. The praetorians' testudo is the most effective means of mobile defense. They will approach the entrance and tank the gunfire -- your more shock-troop oriented knights can then charge in and kill them," Imperius said, looking over papers on the table as Tavish and an elaborately armored zebra hoplite that I assumed was Onosander stood by, processing the order.
"But Imperius, it's close quarters in there. The Roaman gladius is best for that kind of situation; thus, my brethren's broadswords will prove a hindrance," Tavish argued.
"Do your soldiers know how to form testudo?" Imperius asked.
"Well, no..."
"Can they handle short weapons?"
"They have training for them, yes..."
"Then the plan proceeds as I dictate, save for your troops' change of weaponry -- they may borrow my centuria's gladii until the battle is over," Imperius responded simply, and pushed himself away from the table. With a nod to his fellow lords that wagged his helmet's massive purple plumes in their directions, "Onosander, Tavish -- that is all. I have a battle to win." And then he turned away, trotting to his praetorians and shouting orders. Immediately the black-armored guards drew their gladii and approached the two lines of knights, who appeared confused at being told to swap equipment.
"I'm not interrupting anything, right?" I asked as I approached Tavish, who'd put on a grumpy face at being so blatantly ordered by someone who should have been his equal. Immediately the two's attention went to me, both smiling in pleasant surprise.
"Not at all, friend," the hoplite said, and with a smirk he gestured his armored head over in Imperius' direction. "Impy's just as he's always been, and here we are dealing with it as we always have. If it weren't for him calling the shots in times like this, the guy'd have no revenge for us causing him headaches all the time. Ain't that right, Tavs?"
Tavish snickered, rubbing a hoof over his sweaty face. "Yes. But you do realize that it's wrong to keep putting the weight of governing on him, right? For three years, Onosander, we've tortured poor Imperius until he almost wasn't willing to use the opportunity we had to finally end this. Come the time after today, we will need to share the responsibilities."
"Yes yes, of course," Onosander said hurriedly, rolling his eyes as he approached me. Then he whispered in my ear, "Can you believe this guy? Ten minutes with Imperius while putting you through the wardrobe and suddenly he's going on about responsibility." He gave a chuckle, "And here I thought Imperius's aura of boring could never influence anyone."
He slapped his forehead. "Ah, but where are my manners! Name's Onosander, and kid, I know you. We'll long be talking about the outsider that dropped from the surface like a package from heaven. Goldwreath'll be a name of legend down here, just so's you know."
The amount of praise and flattery in his statement froze me in discomfort, and it took me a whole moment and a forced smile to reply, "That's... all good to know, thanks. I'm just glad to have a part in setting things right down here." Still, I let myself indulge in just a little pride -- rightfully should people be known for their deeds, and I would not exempt myself of whatever esteem there was to be had.
"As are we," Tavish stepped in, pushing Onosander aside. Immediately I felt the unfamiliar, boisterous air of Onosander slip away, replaced with the far more welcome aura of Tavish. "I'm especially glad you managed to perform that crucial first step. Mustn't have been easy, considering... well, the lack of an actual plan, among other things. But you did it despite the difficulties, and I'm sure that took no small amount of trust in our ability to fulfill our own role."
"It did. I'm relieved to see you caught them by surprise," I replied. "I thought this'd be an hours-long, bogged-down effort. But what I'm seeing is a small organized army laying waste to unprepared adversaries. You guys did good, Tavish. Morale must be high, I take it?"
Onosander gave a single laugh. "High? Kid, it's through the roof. If it weren't for Imperius being around, these lads'd be grinning like devils, what with their heads overflowing with vengeful zeal. And looky here, you've brought over a Roaman relic of war!" He neared me and eyed the Aquila with an admiration bordering on creepy. "Wow, you show that to the boys and they'll be drunk on eagerness. The praets have got an eagle in their section of the Stable, though I think they left it there for safety. Copy as it is, it's an insult to Jupiter himself if the bearer got killed and dropped it -- or so I heard. I don't know where you got that, but it's wasted if you don't use it to pour gasoline on the fire in these lads' hearts."
"Oh, Onosander, please," Tavish cut in. "As much as the sentiment is pro our cause, we can't afford to let ourselves get blinded now. There's a proper balance to be maintained between zeal and caution. Imperius made me realize that today, just as he made me realize that luck isn't something to build plans on. The amount of improvisation used to even keep this operation aloft cannot be relied upon for all things. Now, more than ever, we cannot put our faith in the chance that the enemy will make a mistake, but rather on the knowledge that we have made our position insurmountable."
I assumed he was referring to my highly fortuitous appearance in Spiderhole, as he had so confidently put forth in our earlier meeting with Imperius. "A fair point. Though if not to drunken the soldiers with zeal, I could use the eagle as a symbol of the enemy's inevitable defeat. Maybe even make some of them surrender," I said, getting an appraising look from Tavish. "Think about it. Dozens of tribes and civilizations in Zebrica were conquered by Roam in the past, and the Aquila was at the head of those conquests. Seeing it again could put a serious dent in their resolve to fight."
As he pondered that, distant gunshots cracked through the chamber air, startling the gathered population. The guardians were likewise unsettled, for the gunfire came with rapid frequency. Curses and shouts of distress followed, and from a besieged cave entrance at the other end of the area a number of knights galloped out, all bleeding heavily as they hobbled to cover behind a line of praetorians and their gigantic rectangular shields -- the shields, called by the Roamans as a scutum (plural scuta), had been modified with bulletproof plating, and were more than sufficient to shelter the fleeing attackers.
Tavish growled, eyeing the cave -- which played host to a ceaseless torrent of bullets that shot both inward and outward -- with clear contempt and irritation. Then he looked back to me, softening his expression just slightly. "Very well, Goldwreath. The choice is yours to do with that standard as you will. But before strategies can be praised our victory must first be secured."
"You're almost there," I assured, eyeing the cave and the desperate defense the Committee was mounting. "It can't be that long now, right?"
He just sighed, "I don't know," and bade me follow him. I trotted close behind as he led me to his assembled knights. Onosander likewise went to his own troops, and over on his end Imperius was giving his soldiers the order to form the Roaman testudo -- literally 'like the tortoise', it was the ultimate in Roaman infantry defensive maneuvers, wherein the majority of the legionaries would mount their shields over their heads, while those on the sides and the front would direct their shields accordingly. If maintained with discipline and supplemented with modern suppression methods, it allowed for a highly effective defensive maneuver in the heat of combat.
"You see, we're quite conflicted as to what we actually want to do," Tavish explained. "Imperius wants the Committee dead. Onosander thinks Spiderhole would more easily follow us if we gave our decrees through them. And me, I just think we should throw them in chains and have their fates decided by the people. Letting the abused make decisions after a whole life of being commanded seems fair to me. I wished the others saw it that way."
As we moved towards the beleaguered cave entrance, the noise of the fighting intensified. The praetorians were moving now, their armored footsteps in sync with the rattling of their shields and armor as they moved with hulking sluggishness towards the front. Next to them stood Imperius, marching forward with his shield guarding his body, ready to move into the fray with his comrades. Behind them all were the knights, armed and ready, following closely behind the vanguard and ready to burst into the cave like a tidal wave of armored juggernauts. Clearly, this was the final step in the plan to liberate Spiderhole. Once those soldiers went in, there would be nothing but fighting until it all ended. To the victor would go the spoils.
We stopped behind a line of remaining praetorians that acted as shelter for the fleeing wounded and as a bulletproof barricade between any stray bullets coming from within the cave and the gathered population. With us in the safety of the barricade were the injured knights, their wounds being tended to by medics. There Tavish and I stood, away from the battle.
Suddenly Tavish asked, sounding curious, "And what would you do?"
"Hm?"
"What would you do with the Committee," he explained. "They're a bunch of old sods, set in their tribal traditions of slavery and detrimental castes. Kabal and his father were merely two members of a council of many, and I dare say only the two of them could fight. Yet for all the pain they've caused people, I can't quite find it in me to order the execution of dozens of defenseless old stallions and mares. Part of the reason I think we shouldn't put them to the sword straight away -- nor should we let them off the hook. So say you had them to the wall, surrounded, and let's say you actually had options aside from killing them. What would you do?"
Well, there was a question I had an answer to. I'd acted on that same situation not an hour ago with Kabal, after all. I let him go, and he was someone who could defend himself. All the more would I let defenseless elders go. But would Tavish like to hear that?
"I really don't know," I lied. "You know of Spiderhole's situation better than I. Do what would give the people here what they want and deserve." Even if what they would want and deserve is retribution, I thought. Given that the enslaved would likely call for the heads of their former masters, it would seem like an obstruction of justice to prevent such restitution, however violent. And so I wondered if my letting go of Kabal wasn't actually something I had the right to do, and if in doing it I had robbed the people of a justice that far outweighed whatever redemption Kabal could obtain.
The thought spread through my mind like poison. Had... had I actually chosen mercy when justice would have been so much more satisfying for the people involved? I had... and had I done so because I genuinely believed Kabal would repent, or because subconsciously I knew I was incapable of summoning up the guts to do what most others would deem appropriate? I truly did hope he could amend himself, but an insidious part of me claimed that was just a convenient alibi.
A deep regret blanketed my thoughts, and conflict sundered my conscience. I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd made a mistake too dire for anyone who'd been under Kabal to to forgive. Perhaps I should have just killed him and let all doubt of the deed's necessity slip. Then, perhaps, I'd have been much more at ease and certain with myself. One wrong to set other things right -- that wasn't so crazy, was it?
"I... see," Tavish replied disappointedly, his tone low with dissatisfaction. Clearly, I hadn't given a helpful answer when he needed one. I supposed he knew as well as I that, in the absence of logical alternatives, the only fate that would await the Committee would be death -- and that was something he was trying to avoid.
I wished I could have told him what I really would have done, but my mental clarity had been tainted. Perhaps I had done right by one of many values on the pantheon of righteousness, but I knew I'd also violated the doctrine of one of the others. The truth was just that, whatever the outcome and intentions of my actions, I had robbed the people of vengeance against one of their former overlords. And knowing that, a very dire warning dawned upon me that insisted I not do again what I had so rashly done earlier. That was playing with chance, and fortune was fickle. In the future, I promised myself, I would consult first the victims of a crime if they could find mercy in their hearts -- only if they said yes would I even consider judging someone worthy of a second chance.
I blinked as a drop of stinging perspiration rolled into my eye. I realized I had blazed through the entire issue in my head for one intense, sweaty minute, and that the entire time I had just stood there in total silence, staring forward as if frozen.
"You're alright?" Tavish asked in concern. "You seemed... unnaturally focused on that patch of dirt there. You didn't even hear what I said, did you?"
I shook my head, clearing my entire mind of that complicated moral mess that I decided I'd continue to dissect later. "No, I didn't. Sorry. That tends to happen when I'm thinking really hard... almost as if I get shut out of the world. Great for study habits and problem solving, bad for keeping alert. It's a double-edged sword I've been born with and can't help."
He just nodded, eyeing me oddly. "Alright. Well, you're alert now, so I'll say it again: they're almost there." He pointed a hoof somewhere. "Look."
The praetorians and the knights were very close now, and the ricochetting of the bullets off their shields was a deafening cacophony of 'TINK-TINK-TINK!' To my shock a bullet whistled past my head, the stream of hot air in its wake like a lash of heat. I found myself reflexively ducking, and Tavish followed closely.
"Well now, it seems their aim's getting more erratic. That's a sign of panic." He pulled his visor down over his face, leaving only his eyes to twinkle at me from within the dark confines of his helmet. "And this is also the point that I join in. When my knights charge, I want to be with them. I want to see the looks on those slavers' faces as the soldiers they mocked for so long finally get their vengeance." Casting the Aquila a look, he asked, "And you? Can I expect you to charge in with us?"
I swallowed, trying to clear my head. Why not, right? This was the final stretch. My job would be to just be there, holding the eagle high to raise morale for the attack and dampen slaver resolve. And my goal in the fight would be to just stay alive and hopefully not need to use the sword strapped to my side. Shouldn't be much of a problem.
"Count me in," I nodded, adjusting my helmet's fit. If things went bad, the piece of metal on my head was the only thing keeping instant death at bay. "Let's do this."
Amidst the deafening clinks and clanks of ricochet, a whistle blew out, long and sharp. And then like a torrent of steel the knights galloped forward, their charge immediately followed by a series of thumps that turned out to be the firing of grenade launchers. The grenades flew over the attackers' heads as they swarmed through the entrance, rushing past the battered testudo that'd wasted a good deal of the slavers' ammo. Screams rang out as ponies and zebras were dismembered by explosions and eviscerated by gunfire. The fierce war cry of the knights mixed in with the desperate yet defiant battle chants of the slavers. As the armored besiegers disappeared down the tunnel and entered the chamber beyond, a great many from both sides silenced, casting an abrupt quiet that was marred only by the slicing of metal and the crushing of bones.
Before the last of the knights were gone, Tavish stood and charged as well. A metal rod on his flank extended into a long, thin lance as he gained momentum. I sucked in a breath and followed, and it wasn't long before we were galloping right beside the idle testudo -- the praetorians looked exhausted from the harrowing and taxing role they'd played, and were now catching their breaths behind the cover of their shields. Imperius stood beside them, bleeding from several wounds where bullets had grazed his exposed forelegs. But he stood fast and observed the assault with the grim eyes of a tactician, as if calculating when the best moment to commit his tired troops to the fight would be.
I slowed down for a moment and galloped sideways to catch a look he threw my way -- or rather, at the eagle strapped to my side. His gaze focused, his brows rising crookedly as he saw me canter on down towards the front. His shield lowered, and for a few seconds he was exposed to the fire of anyone observant enough to notice his lowered guard; fortunately, no such attack came.
Imperius stared on for a few more moments. Then he shook his head, and raising up his gladius he shouted, "Praetorian guards! Out of testudo and into wedge -- protect that Eagle at all costs!" Tired but obedient, the praetorians then collapsed their testudo and formed a wedge, locking their shields to create an impenetrable barrier. The spectacle was a sight to behold. Then from the very center of the first line, acting as the spearhead of the formation, Imperius bellowed, "Forward!"
A desperate and scattered spray of bullets was shot our way, and the striking of two such bullets against my wooden shield and my pauldron reminded me not to dawdle. I turned my attention forward, and took in the battlefield.
What we were besieging now was essentially an underground hill surrounded by tiers upon tiers of fortifications. The hill was tall and narrow, almost like a very large bullet standing upright, and it was clearly artificial. Its top was flat, playing host to an assembly area of some sort; four columns jutted from its corners, reaching up to touch the rocky ceiling not higher up. Winding along the hill's body was a spiral wooden staircase, upon which a number of slaver defenders were garrisoned.
All around the hill were walls of clay and wood and bricks -- none were very high, but there were layers of them, with each subsequent wall slightly taller than the last. The circumference of the outermost and shortest wall left little room between the defenses and the cave rock, forcing the attackers to have to storm a series of metal gates that lead to the base of the hill. The only place spacious enough for the maneuvering of masses of soldiers was the cave that lead from Arachna to here, but steadily that cave narrowed and encountered the first gate. Broken down and laying in heaps of scrap, it itself had proven little obstacle to the weight of the armored knights.
But perhaps the gates were not the problem -- nor were the walls, as sections of them had crumbled down to the attack, creating more entry points. No, the issue now was that there were more slavers in every layer of the onion-like fortress, and if they weren't bogging the knights down in melee combat in the tight spaces between the walls, they were atop the walls themselves, spraying bullets and throwing acids and lobbing axes and spears and glaves. The attack had ground to a gruesome halt as the knights pressed themselves against the walls, taking cover from barrages of missiles that peppered the dirt all around them with sizzling acid and incendiary ammo that set the the wooden walls themselves on fire.
The knights had managed to penetrate into three of five layers of the tiered fortress. Now they were trapped between slavers on one end and flaming and crumbling walls on the other. I could see them amassing near the next gate, as if preparing to breach it the moment a lull in the defense ensued. But every second they were being pelted with projectiles and deadly concoctions, and their shields could only take so much acid and bullets before they melted and disappeared entirely.
I galloped forward and threw myself against the broken first wall. Tavish was there, calling for the retreat of the battered assault wave. It was chaotic and messy, with shouts and cries ever ringing through the air, but bit by bit the assault dripped back behind the safety of the more intact outer walls. More sections of the fortifications came crumbling down as they pulled back, crashing through the weakened structures with their heavy armor. Thusly diminished, the battle calmed as both sides focused on recuperating.
The praetorians came up, and with caution they made their way forward into the maze of debris, taking the positions of the knights before them. They didn't bother to retrieve the weapons that their comrades had borrowed; it seemed it was standard practice for them to have a spare at all times. Now they were crouching silently, tense and waiting for the next developments of the fight. Their black armor shone dimly in the light of nearby fires, and their purple capes and crests swayed to a slight breeze created by the shift in air temperatures.
Imperius broke off from the front line and met us in the rear, eyes burning with fury. For a moment he directed his gaze to me, and I had the distinct feeling I'd done something wrong.
His eyes bore into me for a tense moment before he growled and slammed a hoof down. "Confound these slavers. They... were expecting this. Not two weeks ago I visited this place to discuss matters with the less obstinate members of the Committee, and there were the but the scantest of defenses. Now... it's a fucking fortress."
"We can still do this, Imperius," Tavish assured. "This is their last stand. Onosander's hoplites have scoured most of the defensible caverns. If they still have any ability to fight, it's only here."
The praetorian looked back at his soldiers as they blended in with unsettling ease into the blasted environment. "Perhaps... and for sure they don't have enough bullets to kill us all even if we lined up for execution. If they had the ammo to spare they'd be shooting. They must be waiting for us to attack, then." He shook his head, snarling. "But we won't. They could have any manner of nasty surprises behind those last two walls... the logical solution now would be to wait them out. Starve them. They'll surrender sooner or later."
"What? Imperius, we can't," Tavish said. "We have a deadline. The peace summit with the Legion is the reason we couldn't put this whole thing off. Speed is of the essence, and as much as I like the idea of forcing them all to surrender bloodlessly using hunger... it will take too long. We must act."
I nodded in support of Tavish. This whole underground fiasco had to be rectified as soon as possible, for I also had pressing matters to tend to with the Legion. Technically, I could have left right then. Who would stop me if all the slavers were now isolated and trapped? But leaving without the Legionaries was a dangerous and risky move -- not only would I most certainly be torn to shreds by the wasteland, but going alone would put my reputation and that of Marediolanon to question. What would the Legion think if I arrived without the zebras they entrusted to my company? Would they doubt my ability? My credibility? Maybe even hold me responsible? It was a risk I wasn't willing to take, nor did I want to stay underground longer than necessary. Tavish was right. We had to act.
Imperius seemed to ponder that a moment, but didn't reply. Instead, he sat against a chunk of warm brick and clay and gave an order to the nearest praetorian, who then rushed off along the perimeter of the maze-like ruins. The zebra went from comrade to comrade, echoing the order given. As word passed around, the praetorians promptly pulled back to the outermost wall, and pulling out shovels they began to dig into the rubble, looking for pieces of wood and strips of wires. In less than a minute they had a length of barbed wire, and with it they closed off sections of the crumbled wall.
Imperius met our befuddled expressions and locked our eyes with his own. "We wait them out. I will not risk losing more of our brothers to scum like these. And neither will I risk the ultimate humiliation of losing that." He pointed at the Aquila, and with a dark and contemptuous tone continued, "You're not educated in pure Roaman culture, Tavish. I wouldn't expect you to understand the true gravitas of bringing it to a battle."
That said, he then focused on me with the same blazing disdain I saw moments before. "And I wouldn't expect you, a mere vigiles, to understand either. What idiocy has gripped your mind? The Aquila is not meant for such petty squabbles as this, nor is it meant to be handled with such... such carelessness! If it were my century's eagle, I'd pry that thing from your hooves and leave you half dead for touching it. But since it's clearly not our own, I'll let whoever owns it dictate your possession of it. But I'll do them a favor and shift this battle to logistics, so you won't be tempted to charge in like a fool and expect us all to gallop after you."
He looked us both in the eye, gaze narrowed dangerously. "The Legion's summit can wait," he intoned. Then he trotted off, leaving us bristling and glaring in anger. I growled, then caught the look Tavish gave me; clearly, this was one of those days he did not like Imperius one bit. And for the moment, neither did I.
I stood straight and took a deep breath, trying to subdue my emotions. "He can be quite... unpleasant," I seethed, holding back the urge to use a stronger word.
"You have no idea," Tavish replied. "That's not even the worst of it. Growing up with him had its fair share of quarrels. Me, not knowing anything of 'pure' Roaman culture? Why, that discriminating piece of..." He growled, grinding a hoof into the rocks. "Truth be told, sometimes it's just professionalism holding us together. But I've worked too hard to establish even the most meager of relationships with him that I can't just cast it all aside and settle with anything less."
He sighed and took off his helmet, running a hoof through his damp mane. "Anyway... that's that. Imperius has given the order, and the troops will follow. I guess we'll just have to roll along with it. I know you need to leave, Goldwreath, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to override his command. We're officially equals, but he possesses a strength of presence I can never match. I'm sorry."
I slumped, crushed. My hopes of achieving Spiderhole's independence speedily were shattered about me. I needed to get out of there, and go to the Forum. I needed to return to my friends and family; to Marediolanon, the place I knew best. And if I were not to return home -- if instead I were to embark on the crusade to clean up the surface of its plague of virulent vices and rampant chaos -- I needed as well to move forward. I couldn't be bogged down. Yet there I was, trapped indefinitely. It was the worst kind of stagnation. Torturous, for all the while the world above would progress, and underground I was to idle. This wasn't a flaw of my mind -- there was no mental coinflip I could call upon to create order in the midst of a nonexistent uncertainty. For in great irony, the worst part about it all was the certainty that I had to wait. That I had to idle. That my course was set, and diverting from it would only put me and everyone involved in Chance's fickle favor.
I had developed a mechanism of mind to avoid stagnation, for stagnation bred uncertainty -- and through uncertainty, chaos. A proper Roaman would never allow such a thing to control his life. But never before had I encountered a situation wherein the inelastic walls of absolutes brought me more ire than discord did. Order was restrictive; and in this case, the cause of stagnation. It was nothing like chaos, which in its total randomness harbored the potential for the greatest goods right alongside that of the harshest evils. Order was hard, with no tolerance for chance and risks. All my life I'd tried to uphold it, convinced of the benefits of absolutes. Yet now order was a hindrance. I felt betrayed, and at no other point in my existence did the desire to turn from it tempt so seductively.
"I am sorry," Tavish repeated, and trotted off.
I was left standing there. The painkillers numbing my burns were beginning to wear off, and the stinging pain was beginning to crawl back onto my flesh. The acid's marks were still fresh, and surely when the pain returned completely the aggravation would be too distracting in combat for me to deal with. Worse, they could be made more severe by subsequent injury. Waiting was out of the question if I had any desire to do something to speed this along... but if I'd do anything of the sort, I would be alone. The soldiers had been given their orders, and they would follow of them.
So I was really to wait. Wonderful. Restlessness and worry would surely breed in me like vermin, not unlike the one time our power generators in Marediolanon were infested with mutated rats. And so hoping to find a means to alleviate my situation, I looked to the nearest praetorian and found him without task. The zebra just stood there with his eyes to the fortress, frowning; his expression of disappointment mirrored my own quite well.
"You don't like the situation, do you?" I asked him carefully, drawing his attention. His golden eyes looked into my own, momentarily uncomprehending. "This whole thing with the waiting, I mean. You don't look happy about it."
"Ah. Not one bit, yes," he replied. "There's a certain cowardice to resorting to this tactic, if you ask me. The enemy is incapable of resisting a full-on assault, yet we hold back. I understand praefect Imperius is unwilling to risk more lives given that victory can be assured through this means... but I just don't like it. We are Roaman praetorians, emulating the finest the empire had to offer in its golden years; we should be more than happy to lay down our lives for Roam's ideals -- honor among them. There is no honor in attacking a weakened enemy. The Roaman Legion's ability to defeat an enemy at their strongest was what made us feared by the world. What would others think of us now?"
Spite made me glad that one of Imperius' own troops was against him, but I wasn't going to take advantage of that. I hadn't quite descended into petty grudges just yet. There was reason to Imperius' command aside from keeping me from 'mishandling the Aquila', I reminded myself (Though in my defense, I had once acted as the centuria's standard bearer -- it wasn't the Eagle, yes, but the signum represented my unit's life and prestige. If Imperius would give me no credit for that, then I would.)
"I suppose... but still. You just said yourself: Imperius wants to spare lives. The dying-for-Roam ideal is commendable, if I may say, but perhaps he just doesn't see the need to require that sacrifice of any of you," I reasoned, and hesitantly added, "So if waiting keeps anyone from doing something stupid... well, saving lives is as good an excuse as any to grind things to a halt."
The zebra praetorian cocked his head and said, "Well, now who doesn't look happy about it? I can see it; you're just as frustrated about this as I am. And maybe you're fine with waiting despite that upsetting idea, outsider, but I'm not. My parents didn't raise their child to accept what he doesn't like. See, when Delvius wants something someway, he works for it. And unless the gods make it clear it can't be, then he keeps up the pressure. Imperius isn't a god, and I respect a person by how I feel he abides by the Roaman code of conduct. This... is cowardice, and a blatant attempt to stop others from living out the Roaman way.
"So I'm disobeying him," he surmised, not even taking the precaution to say such a thing quietly. "It's drastic. Some would consider me crazy. But if a guy doesn't live a life the way he feels it should be lived, then there's no point. You either die as yourself or bow to change just to survive. Either way, you're lost from the world. So I'm going to choose the way that lets me leave it as myself." He turned and looked at me over his shoulder, "You're free to join me. This stagnation can go hang itself."
I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. Screw Imperius and his reasons. More than lives, the very ideal that these zebras and ponies existed for -- Roam -- had to be preserved. I agreed with Delvius; more so than I thought I could. His words hit all the right spots, like we were raised on the same mentality. He wasn't afraid to take risks, to do the drastic things that would get shit done.
Admittedly, I would never have felt this way if I hadn't met Thanus. That legate revealed aspects of myself to me that I would never have acknowledged otherwise. Days ago I was just a guard, casually carrying out my duties. I never thought much of myself or what I could do or become, and I was satisfied to pay myself no attention. But ever since that one decision... my volunteering to serve the Legion... I'd been exposed to things I never felt before, things I would never have experienced if I did the safe thing and kept my mouth shut. I could yearn for freedom now, having seen the sky. I could hold disdain for my would-be superiors now, having finally experienced the tedious hindrances order could create. I could actually live now, having realized that all my life I'd been under the weight of countless restrictions... restrictions brought about by the stagnation order called peace.
Who knew the wasteland and all its chaos could make me realize that there was so much more to life? That there was more to living than being content with one's lot? Now I could be more, and I was more. Still a guard of Marediolanon, yes... but free to do as I wished. The only compulsion for anything was desire.
Yet for all that, there was hesitation. An outside force, very clearly not stemming from my consciousness. I had no reason not to agree straight away, but it was there -- it was stopping me, warning me off. I felt a slight frustration well up inside me that wasn't my own.
This is not the path you should be taking, a voice in me argued. Risks and acts of bravery are all well and nice... but often the price of failing must be considered more deeply than the potential reward. Death is irrevocable, whereas regret and sorrow can be overcome. Do not risk being swallowed by a terrible absolute just because you wish to save time. In submitting to this misguided course, you risk plunging this whole situation into chaos.
The hesitation was like a solid wall. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get past it, couldn't say anything. For moments, it was as if I was being forcibly kept quiet. And all the while I felt my desire slowly seeping from me, like blood draining through a wound. Perhaps... perhaps it was right. Maybe it was just impatience driving me to such nonsensical radicalism...
There we go. Much better. An ordered reality is always more beneficial for all involved, Goldwreath. Why risk when you can be assured? Given time, all things will be put back into place, and all strife will end. Chaos can only be a bad thing, afteral-
Suddenly a crackle shrieked through the chamber, alarming and shocking us all. All work on building the barbed wire ceased as knights and praetorians alike sent their gazes upward, looking for the source of the noise.
"Is that it, then?" the voice of Kabal's father mocked. "Is that all the finest of the great Roaman empire can throw? Hah! And all this time I wondered how the Germanes could have once destroyed not one, but three legions. Your Eagles of conquest were nothing but symbols of your fragile ego. Let it be clear now, Roamans, that you're not better than any of us. You're not superior in any way, not more capable or more adaptable. No..."
His words had us all up on our hooves, and quite a few of the present knights and praetorians were grinding their teeth and growling. I could see Imperius and Tavish off to the side, the former looking so murderous that the latter looked uncomfortable just standing near him.
"... no. That delusion of yours of a world under Roam died centuries ago. It died when you were all so stupid as to let your pride doom everything to the apocalypse." Then came the zinger that sparked an uproar of zealously infuriated anger: "Roam is not the world's salvation. It is it's doom, and all of you are death's harbingers."
It may have been nonsensical to shout at the ceiling and the hidden speakers, but that's exactly what many of us did, myself included. No proper Roaman would ever take such insult from anyone, especially from savages! No proper Roaman would leave such blasphemy unanswered. I could see it in the eyes of the soldiers, in their furious scowls and in their murderous demeanor -- it didn't matter what Imperius had ordered. Retribution was going to be had, and there was only one way to get it.
"Kill them! Kill them all!" was the collective consensus, shouted over and over again by an increasingly impatient legion of infuriated Roaman soldiers. The clamor reached such an intensity that only the mightiest, most breath-exhausting bellow from Imperius silenced them. The praetorian praefect took a moment to breathe, then looked out over the tense troopers.
His gaze fell upon me, and with clear hesitation he approached. I rose my head and held back a smirk. Such a sweet thing it is to see humiliation and contempt on the face of one's irritators. Delvius stood off to the side, and I caught him smiling similarly. I guess deep down we were both glad that we hadn't needed to resort to disobedience to get what we wanted. As Imperius neared, Delvius smirked and put his helmet on before trotting off to join his fellow praetorians.
Imperius approached. "Goldwreath," he hissed, then swallowed. His eyes couldn't meet mine; clearly the amount of pride he was compromising for this one conversation was eating away at him. "We... need you. My order is... superseded. The troops want war, and as Roamans our honor is challenged. As such, I must negate my previous edict, and ask you to bear the Aquila for our attack." I couldn't help but grin slightly, and though he growled he added right after, "Please."
"You'd be fine with a mere vigiles bearing such a standard?" I asked.
"It's fate is tied to yours. You drop it or disgrace it, and your head comes off," he warned, and he sounded like he wouldn't mind being my decapitator. "I trust that's incentive enough for you to do your best."
I nodded. "And you realize, still, that this attack will be dangerous? They could be preparing anything behind those walls.
He snarled. "I know. It's exactly why I wanted to simply starve them out. That and... other reasons." He glared at me, and his gaze was as heavy as the hundreds of eyes all about us. "So be glad. You and Tavish get your attack after all. I just wish my comrades had the sense not to want it, too. Many of them may be marching to their doom, and without a way to bring those walls down... I fear for them."
I sighed, leveling with him in that regard. If it wasn't for my hurry, I'd have taken the safe option. If these were my fellows from Marediolanon, I'd do everything I could to keep them safe. But such was the cost of being a Roaman: as stewards to the power of Roam, we had to be ready to die for her. Delvius made that very clear. But indeed, if only there was some way to lessen the risks... like a siege engine for surmounting the obstacle ahead of us...
"Wait," I suddenly said. "There is a way."
"What in Tartarus are you talking about?" Imperius questioned.
I ignored him, instead turning around to look for Tavish. Next to him stood a familiar knight, though bloodied and tired-looking.
"Tavish, Caridin -- I need your help with something."
The latter of them limped over, staunchly biting down a grunt of agony. It was then that I noticed half of his left foreleg was held to the rest of his body by bandages soaked in blood and coated with filth. "W-what is it?" He panted for a second as I eyed him concernedly. Then he waved a hoof dismissively. "Ah, this? 'Tis but a scratch."
"A scratch? Caridin, your leg's almost off!"
"I've had worse. My duty is my medicine. Now what is it?"
I sighed and shook my head. "Don't blame me if that leg comes off. Now listen, I need you to find Cerebrum the minotaur. If he still lives, we may have a use for his... immense size."
He nodded, already starting to limp off. "He yet lives, yes. Killed the slaver that nearly took my leg off. He said he was going to make the tunnels a 'free place' to walk down again, though. He may not be done."
"Call him anyway," I replied, then turned to look at the fortress. "Against him, those walls will mean nothing."
***Roama Victrix***
"This idea is ludicrous," Cerebrum grumbled, shaking his head. "This was the best you could think of? 'Oh, a minotaur is big -- let's use one as a siege engine!' I'm offended."
The praetorians and knights were ready. When Caridin left, word quickly spread among them that an attack was authorized. Eager, they followed their orders to the letter. The praetorians now were in square formation, ready to be morphed into testudo or wedge as Imperius saw fit. The knights, reduced in number, were to serve as a secondary force. For that Tavish was glad (and without letting Imperius hear him, he commented that it was fair for the praetorians to lose some of their own this time, rather than sacrificing even more of his own kin -- an unexpectedly dark thing for him to say, but not untrue). And when Caridin returned atop the shoulder of the titanic minotaur, spirits soared and cheers rang out -- and clear despair rocked through the enemy, as their sentries beheld the sight of the one who would render their defenses useless.
Now it was just a matter getting Cerebrum to like the idea -- if clearly witnessed as such, a halfhearted effort would be just as demoralizing as a failed one. Yes, Cerebrum was here. Yes, his monstrously large battle axe (taken from a defeated minotaur, or so he said) was ready and could easily cleave down the feeble clay and wood walls. But these soldiers were raising their hopes on his shoulders, and if uncommitted his presence could sour the otherwise elated mood of the troops.
I turned to him, looking up to meet his gaze. "I understand if you feel stereotyped. But you have to realize that this is the final blow. We end this here, and Spiderhole can be free. You will be free, your brethren can be free. No longer will you have to bow just to receive sustenance. You can be proud Mountainguards again."
"Ironic that the means to being 'proud Mountainguards' again is by attacking a mountain, then," he snorted. His gaze was hard, cold as he looked down at me. I stepped back, having the distinct feeling I may have crossed some sort of line. Noticing my discomfort, he sighed. Then he looked over at the assembled Roamans, all just eagerly waiting on him. "I want to be free, yes. And I wish my brethren could have been free, too. But they chose to serve and protect a master who caged and blinded them... and so I ended them. Perhaps their spirits may find freedom in the afterlife, but there was no liberty to be had here, not with their mindsets. But how can I be free if always I shall be called upon to help a cause that I care nothing for?
"This attack, it should not even be happening. I heard over the intercom. Roaman pride is why you called me here. I am a weapon, something to be flaunted in sight of the enemy to further your own goals. Spiderhole can be free without my help. It just needs patience, something you've all disregarded for the sake of bravado. Why should I do this and allow the pointless risking of lives? Give me one good reason, and I shall."
I had no words. I wanted to protest, but he was right. Roaman pride and a sense of urgency were driving me to support this -- those, and... a strange urge to do something risky. I couldn't describe that other sensation; it was just there: a want to be done with any boundary and to take a chance. So indeed, why should he help? He had no allegiance to us, no reason to risk his life... there was only his desire to be free of compulsions. So how to convince him?
"Because... because this place, these people... they need a reminder," I began, slow in my uncertainty. But taking a moment to think on what I'd just said, I realized it had meaning. So I continued, "They need to remember that... that slavery is a blight, not to be tolerated by anyone. Some people here have been under it for so long that they've put themselves in the system, that they've involved themselves in the grind. They've forced their wills on others, but I'm willing to believe that they can be made to see reason again. This act of intolerance... it will get the message across."
Yes. Yes, that sounded right... for indeed, I had seen what occurred in that arena. I saw the slaves cheering and screaming in delight. Perhaps they did it out of necessity; forced labor must take its toll on the mind, and so they may have had to indulge the distraction just to stay sane. It was my hope that they would no longer need to resort to twisted means of relief when this was all over.
I looked to the fortress, then pointed at it and stared right up into his eyes. "Every second those slavers live is a reminder to the opposite, Cerebrum. They tell them that making property of others is a practice both necessary and justifiable -- testaments to the 'invulnerability' of an order built upon superiority complexes. Our Roaman pride has us prove ourselves against the accusations of others, Cerebrum; but the pride that breeds in the mind of a slaver has them see the whole world as inferiors. Do you believe that there is even one person so devoid of redeeming qualities that he can be considered less than others?"
He sucked in a breath, groping his axe with his fingers. "All people are equals, somehow. We all have potential."
"Exactly. Those slavers there are people who would rob others of that potential, who would take credit for their works. They either die now or die later, but ask yourself: what gets the message across? What will tell them that they are no longer welcome here? What will tell them that the vast majority rule, not an elitist few -- indirect tolerance, or outright destruction? Which, Cerebrum?"
He cocked his head. Then he closed his eyes and nodded, seeming to relax and think. "You... have... made your point, praetorian. You speak of immortalizing the idea of intolerance to all things that may harm freedom? Now that I can fight for, and never think I helped to sate your own bravados. From now on, these arms swing the axe for liberty only."
"Then swing it well," I replied, smiling gratefully. "And thank you. Some of us may die today... but I think we can rest easy knowing that the sacrifices made will work towards a good cause."
I breathed deep, bowing my head just for a moment and listening to the hushed noises behind me. I was sure one of those impatient grumbles was Imperius'. He was surely wondering what the holdup was; they all were, I suspected. And so I looked up and gave Cerebrum a final question, "Ready?"
"Now that I have cause, yes."
"Good. Because I don't know how this will end for either of us. Now, let me up on your shoulder." He gave me a sideways look, and I elaborated, "This Aquila in my hooves, it must be seen by both sides -- by the enemy so they may fear, and by us Roamans so we may be fearless. It's a sacred icon representing the highest god, Jupiter, and his favor on the battlefield. The higher up it is, the better."
He spared me a bemused gaze before rolling his eyes and picking me up. Onto his shoulders I went, and I took a moment trying to find balance behind his neck so that I could stand. For someone of his size, my weight was nothing, but he did let out a grunt of discomfort.
Now came the moment we were all waiting for. I turned around to face the soldiers, taking care not to aggravate the minotaur as I held onto his horns for balance. I raised the Aquila up, and the Roaman host roared with such ferocity that the cavern shook. I smiled, then pointed the eagle's head towards the fortress: the signal for the attack. Immediately three distinct horns blew, and in organized fashion the soldiers went -- praetorians at the front, flanked by knights, with their rear protected by a line of hoplites. The collective crunch and stomp of nigh a thousand hooves rumbled through the earth, and as they moved Cerebrum joined them. We waded through the ring of debris, not slowing down as slavers rushed along the tops of their last two walls.
The praetorians stopped and hurried into the wedge formation. The knights braced themselves, taking cover off to the sides in the ruins of the fortifications. Then Cerebrum jogged forward, swinging out his axe as he broke into a sprint. I felt my breath leave me as he jumped high up, and it was all that could be done to hold on for dear life and bite back the urge to scream -- a restraint the slavers weren't able to afford themselves. Their distressed shouts were drowned out by the violent crash that followed. Sand and splinters shot into the air as I rocked forward, the air blasting out of me as I smashed against the back of Cerebrum's helmet, my armor morphing. I had only recovered my breath before Cerebrum yanked his axe out of the wall, tearing the clay apart in the process, and struck it again, rendering a massive section nothing but dust. Then he dashed forward and swung his weapon at the second wall, ignoring the puny slavers that cowered beneath his legs as he shattered the fortification. When that was naught but dust as well he quickly withdrew as fast as he entered, stepping back out beyond the realm of the first wall as slaver warriors lobbed spears at him. Despite his size, Cerebrum was amazingly dexterous and level-headed in the face of danger; for my part, though, I was drowsier than ever before in my life.
Luckily I wasn't going to actually fight, then. That was the soldiers' job; mine, for virtue of keeping the Aquila safe, was just to stay alive.
"Soldiers of Roam! To glory!" Imperius shouted, and acting as the vanguard himself he rushed into the gap, colliding with and cutting down the first slaver he encountered. Behind him roared the Roaman host, and into the breach the praetorians galloped in. Cerebrum's hulking form stepped aside to let them through, and I atop him heard gunshots mixed in with the screaming -- the last of the slaver ammo was thus dispensed ineffectively against the shields of the praetorians, as well as into the the thick hide of the minotaur. Many a ping resonated off his helmet until Cerebrum ducked, shielding us both behind the wall.
Merely inches from the gap, and leaning right against the edge of it, I noticed a deluge of noxious, multicolored liquid bleeding from the insides of the walls. Inspecting the source, I realized the slavers had filled hollowed areas of the walls with metal barrels full of poisons and acids -- had we tried to besiege this place without the intervention of a minotaur, we surely would have fallen prey to the trap. And so, though Cerebrum's axe had sacrificed itself (as it was now a slagged stump of metal), it had bought us the safety we needed to boldly charge on. The trap had been reduced to an easily avoidable trickle of what it could have been, and the slavers had no other cards to play. Even as we sheltered ourselves until the end of the gunshots, the death cries of a withering slaver force echoed through the cavern. At that point, I didn't even think the soldiers needed the Aquila's presence to inspire them to be fearless; their pure hatred of the slavers who'd insulted our Roaman honor was more than enough. Truth be told, I felt a slight inkling to join them.
But I couldn't do that. My duty was to keep the Aquila safe, so fighting was out of the question. But I could cheer them on.
When Cerebrum at last decided he should partake in the fight, he dashed around the corner, avoiding the acid, and hurtled like a train into a disarrayed formation of spear-wielding zebra warriors. The shafts of the weapons splintered on impact with his armor, and as he smote them with his massive fists I stood atop his back, pointing to the fortress itself and the Committee staring down at us. Then drawing up my breath I shouted, "Forward, Roamans, forward! Death to all who continue to fight! Take! That! Fort!"
I was surprised to see my order being heeded. The fighting in the small courtyard beneath the underground hill was utterly lopsided -- clearly the slavers had made preparations to passively resist us using their trap, not to fight us head on. Like a swarm, the Roamans rampaged towards the stairs, Imperius leading the way. They galloped up the spiraling steps, throwing aside any slaver who dared to raise a hoof in defiance. It wasn't long before they were a throwing distance of the plateau.
Even more surprising was the fact that Cerebrum joined them. But he didn't take the stairs; no, with his fingers, he climbed along the sheer slope, digging his extremities into the dirt as he snorted and glared murderously. Homicide was in his eyes as he neared the top, clawing his way near where the last few slavers were mounting a futile resistance against the advancing Roamans. It seemed victory was near.
But something happened then that I didn't expect. A heavy feeling washed over me; a great numbness too strong to resist. Moving my muscles was impossible, and every second my heartbeat became slower and weaker. Darkness edged my vision as my breath shallowed, and I slumped limply against the minotaur's head.
You should not have done this, that voice said again, sounding disappointed and frustrated. Disobedience can't be tolerated. You are to adhere to my orders, not to the influence of chaos. So I'm sorry, but you need to be taught. Your mind needs to be... reshaped. You brought this on yourself.
I felt myself slipping. The polished metal of Cerebrum's helmet was too smooth to find any grip on. Suddenly all sound muffled -- screams, bellows, and cries all seemed far-off, alien. Feeling drained from my skin like blood through a wound. And then I was weightless, the Aquila sliding out of my hoof as my body slid off the minotaur and plummeted to the ground below.
In the blackness that ensued, there was only a sigh, Don't worry. I haven't given up on you yet. Just... cooperate, and order will be restored. Trust me. This is how it should be...
Entry #7 Today... was a good day. For the first time ever, I got to be the centuria's Standard Bearer! I did good. Horus said that if we used it often enough to be a standard piece of equipment, then I'd be the one to hold it always. Mom and Dad are gonna love this!
The Aquila and all other Roaman standards provide a +10 bonus to Speech, and a +2 to Charisma when equipped.
"Wow indeed," the red pegasus replied, adjusting himself on the seat and flicking his purple cape aside. His steel breastplate shone in the light of the nearby lamp. "That was just the start of my journey, of course. Between that moment and this one, there're weeks worth of untold stories. I'd tell you the rest of it, but, heh, well it's a long tale to tell. And I have duties to tend to, so..."
"I was there for most of it, though."
"Oh sure. From then on until now, actually. Good to still have you with us, Delvius; but right now the Roaman people need me to tend to them. This... history lesson of yours can wait, right? It's getting late."
"Sure, sure. I'll just type all this down..."
"You're typing this down? This is isn't even the story! Hey, are you?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Gah, fine. Your choice. But for now, I'm leaving. I don't know when I'll be available for interview again."
"Mind if I talk to the others, then? I know we've been together through thick and thin, but it'd be nice to know things from their perspective."
"I don't see why not. This... 'New Roam Innovatus' of yours is your endeavor, so achieve it however you like."
"Who should I call in first? And not Predator; I doubt he'd want anything to do with this at all."
"Hmm..." he pondered, then smirked. "Well, if you can get her to talk despite the potential size of audience, I bet her insight would be invaluable. Try asking Myst."
Chapter VIII Discordance "The world is not dialectical -- it is sworn to extremes, not to equilibrium; it is sworn to radical antagonism, not to reconciliation or synthesis. This is also the principle of evil."
It was... I-I think around four, in the afternoon that is... I couldn't really be sure. Time was hard to tell underground. I was trusting the little watch on my wrist, a thing Tavish had given me sometime back. And if it really was four, then it must've been nice and warm up there on the surface... not like in the tunnels, cold and damp and stuffy. A forest-camo hoodie Tavish had given me along with the watch helped against the cold, though.
So... yeah, it was four. People were starting to get really tense and impatient. And you know, I was sitting right with them, so I could really tell. It wasn't even an hour before when that really big, scary minotaur stomped by, one of the knights on his shoulder. A few moments after that and suddenly there was so much shouting, screaming. So much that I had to cover my ears and shut my eyes, my breathing turning panicked as people started to question and talk all around me. I... well, I whimpered and quietly asked the nearest people to calm down; everything was going to be fine, I said. Not that they heard me, though...
Finally, it came. The intercom sounded again, after the noise from the Committee chamber died down. Imperius was speaking, his voice booming terrifyingly.
"Citizens of Spiderhole, and fellows from Arachna," he started, and quickly everyone around me quieted. I smiled softly, crookedly, liking the sudden quiet. Then I cringed as the praetorian pony continued, sounding tense and irritated, "It has been one-hundred years since Spiderhole became a slaver hub. One-hundred years since people were taken from the surface and made to toil in caves, the lowest of them scratching a living off rocks. But that is over now, you hear? The Committee is... neutralized; its slavers, our oppressors, dead -- and let it be clear now that any who continue their work in any way shall be similarly dealt with. Many have died for it, and the freedom gained today is fickle. Thus I will NOT tolerate any incursions, and I will NOT entertain any debate on the matter. This freedom was hard-fought, but it is finally ours. Celebration is ill-advised, however. As... joyous... an occasion as today is, there is much yet to be done. And you all would be wise to follow our instructions; the fate of Spiderhole's efforts to reforge its reputation hangs on your choices. Do not abuse your freedom. Now merely wait, and if things go smoothly all our lives will be as they should. Imperius out."
I cringed as everyone started talking again. Lots of them let out cries of joy, others cheering. A few looked disturbed, maybe even... sad? Oh, but I was glad! Very glad, yes... most of these people had been here for years, working so hard and were rewarded only with enslavement. I was happy that they were finally free, honest!
... but it, erm... didn't change the fact that their noise made me feel out of place. I wasn't like them; I couldn't feel involved in their emotion. I hadn't been forced into labor, hadn't been used by masters for their own wants. Tavish, he... he spared me from that. When I fell from that trapdoor and fell into Spiderhole two months before, he took me in. Sheltered me, gave me a home. And while at first I was terrified he'd only done that so he could have authority over me, it wasn't like that. He'd been kind, like the brother I never had but always wanted. He even kept being nice despite all the whispers people were saying behind his back, some even coming from his own knights. I heard them at night, sometimes -- talking, speculating, making jokes about what he was 'doing' with me. The things they said were so awful, the kinds of things the slavers would've done. I always had nightmares those nights, and I hated that I had such good ears to hear them with.
So I just sat quietly, keeping to myself until the instructions Imperius spoke about came. I assumed that he'd give them himself after a while, maybe after all of the knights and praetorians and hoplites settled themselves. They must've been so tired after doing so much, so I'd have understood if they took a while.
When the first of them came out, though, they didn't come out to give instructions. The four praetorians rushing out of the cave were frantic, looking absolutely worried as they approached. A large white cloth was tied by its four corners to each of them as they cantered by, a body on the cloth. I shut my eyes, wishing I'd done it soon enough to not see the dismembered zebra. When they were gone, I opened them again... only to see more of the Roaman soldiers pass by, always in groups of four, always with a cloth between them. I shuddered and wormed my way deeper into the sitting crowd, hoping to get distance from the... sights.
Then I smiled and let out a breath, relieved to see Tavish as he trotted out. He had his winged knight's helmet on, and was telling another group of four knights to hurry along. He seemed really urgent about this one, though -- one of the armored zebras even had the golden eagle thing I saw Goldwreath going in with! Suddenly I lost my breath. My eyes were on the white cloth between them as they cantered by, and I was... I... I couldn't look away as they passed, carrying the red pegasus with them. My eyes widened, and I edged close as they took him away.
"Hurry now, get them to the medical ward!" Tavish ordered, pointing towards Arachna. He stood close enough to the edge of the crowd that he was within hoof's reach. "Caridin! Make sure Goldwreath gets treated for that concussion."
"Yes, my lord!" Caridin replied. Caridin had been one of the nicer knights... and by that I mean he was one of those who didn't try to talk to me. I appreciated that he was considerate enough to not try to... well, hit on me. At least, I think the knights who tried talking to me tried to hit on me...
"And get your leg checked, too. It's almost come off," Tavish said, then turned to look back at the Committee chamber's entrance with worry. I reached out to touch him on the shoulder, but then the people near him inched away, maybe for discomfort at having him so close... I'm not sure. And to avoid bumping into them, I had to move back, too. With the widened space between him and me, the idea of getting him to notice me suddenly seemed so much more daunting... if I did anything, everyone would see me talking to him, and then they'd... stare, and... wonder...
I felt so nervous I wanted to crawl into the dirt and hide.
So I sat there, keeping quiet as he groaned in frustration, furiously tapping the brow of his helmet. He seemed in pain, and I felt my heart falter a bit. I wanted to stand up and tell him I was glad that they'd won, glad that he was alright, but... but I couldn't. And I hated myself for not being able to. Eventually he shook his head and turned, hurriedly trotting after Caridin and the others carrying Goldwreath away.
It was a blessing that more of the Roaman soldiers came out, these ones alright. They started giving instructions, and people started to get up and leave to follow them. It gave me an excuse to get up too, and I galloped down the cavern to catch up with Tavish.
***Roama Victrix***
Back in Arachna, things were... a mess. Ponies and zebras were everywhere, rushing to clear enough space to put the wounded in. The medical ward that Tavish spoke of, well... it wasn't big enough for all the hurt people to fit in. So now the injured were all over. Despite the fact that they were all too hurt to care for my presence, I still couldn't find it in me to feel... secure. I was scared that one of the medical people might ask me to get something, or to help them... and I don't think I could have if they did.
Staring forward, trying to block out every noise and sight, I searched for Tavish. I found him kneeling near some of his knights, comforting them as they sat and covered their eyes with... with filthy, bloodied cloths. I swallowed and approached, reeling slightly from the coppery scent of blood. I scratched at my leg, trying to say something, but then shutting up. Maybe now wasn't the best time...
"Now you get those eyes checked and grab some rest," Tavish told the knights. They nodded, one of them coughing out blood. Tavish sighed and turned around, standing. I went rigid as he saw me.
"Myst? Ah, Myst!" He beamed, letting out a breath as he slumped slightly. He looked at me standing there, unsure of whether to smile or to cringe or to step back, and he smiled. Me, I didn't smile... oh, but I was glad -- honest! It's just that everything seemed... seemed like such a mess, with so many people hurt. It didn't feel right to smile when everything was so bad...
"Erm... Hi," I said lamely, and then wanted to take my words back. Now people were looking. Oh, they were looking. Those with energy left in them glanced my way. They were wondering. They were listening. Watching. They'd heard my words, my really lousy words. They were judging me, I just knew it!
Wanting to just run and hide, I stuttered, "I, uh... j-just wanted to make sure you were okay after... that." I couldn't meet his eyes, and even as I looked away I avoided everyone else's eyes too. I couldn't take the way they were looking at me. Some were frowning, skeptical; others seemed wistful, like they wished I was talking to them. Could they have wanted that? Could they have wanted that I was giving them my concern instead of Tavish? After all, he was alright, and they weren't... oh, but I couldn't even talk to them. I didn't really know anyone else in all of Spiderhole aside from Tavish. I couldn't feel secure around anyone else, too. Just being in this place with them all was making my skin crawl and my mane stand on end.
Then all my attention focused as Tavish put a hoof to my chin and gently directed my face to his. Everyone saw that, I was sure of it. But for just a moment I didn't care as I sought solace in his warm, caring gaze. "Girl, you're stuttering again. You don't need to stutter around me, remember? Because you don't have to talk for me to understand. I know your body language. Had you just gotten me to see you and smile, I'd have known your intent immediately. Anyone who thinks for a moment can understand you, and though not many people stop to think in our hectic times... well, I'm one of them. So you understand? You needing to do this was completely unnecessary... but quite brave. I'm proud of you."
I felt myself blushing... a lot. So much. Maybe too much. Compliments of any sort always got to me, no matter the words used or the situation given. So to hear that from him, that I had managed to get over a fear of mine even for just a bit? That really did mean a lot. Again I couldn't meet his eyes, but this time out of a sense of pride and satisfaction that I didn't want to let anyone see.
Then a thought asserted itself that had me look right back at him. "Well... thank you," I replied, glad. "But I didn't come here just to tell you how relieved I am that you're okay..." That got his attention, and he raised his brows. All my newfound pride drained, replaced with familiar hesitation. "I, erm... also came to see what happened with, well... Goldwreath. Is... he okay?"
Asking that question was the hardest thing I'd done in days. I never liked to ask anything because I didn't want to seem annoying or too curious... though there were lots of things I was curious about. So, just... why was I even asking then, right? I didn't really know him... I only knew his name, and for less than two full days at that. Maybe because he'd been... nice? He hadn't prodded or asked me anything; he hadn't forced me into uncomfortable situations... and I kinda liked that. The most he'd let off were glances at me, much less creepy than all like the stuff some of the Arachnians said. I appreciated that... and though he didn't seem like a quiet stallion, he was considerate. He didn't ever look like he was judging me when he glanced my way. In fact, when I caught him looking once, he seemed flustered. Embarrassed... just like I'd be if someone caught me looking for whatever reason.
People like Tavish, Imperius, and Onosander... they were confident. They were leaders, capable of making others follow them because they were good examples for... something. They could look others in the eye and smile, and introduce themselves without fear. I couldn't do any of that. I couldn't even ask a person for the tiniest of directions even if my life depended on it... which had been made really clear to me two months ago. I was... just... incapable. Incapable and scared of anything that had any ability to dislike me, and too weak to do anything in my own defense.
But then there was Goldwreath, a stallion with the same determined eyes and unafraid voice as any other... and he'd not only been considerate of someone like me, but had also shown self-consciousness and embarrassment when I caught him looking. Any other person would have snorted and rolled their eyes, maybe brush me off... but why not him? In fact, what made him look at me at all? I always thought the knights liked to say those things just to make me uncomfortable, so that I'd stay away from them, because they didn't like me. I felt like sport to them, something to be played around with for plain amusement. I wasn't anything special... so why did he look at me like I was?
I couldn't know for sure... but my extremely curious self wanted to know. It needed to know, and wouldn't rest until it found out more about Goldwreath, the stallion that was... kinda like me, yet not like me. A mix. Someone who could maybe understand. Someone who could be a... a friend.
"... Myst? Hey... Myst," Tavish said gently, softly. I blinked, realizing I'd blanked out for a moment there. "Are... you okay?"
I stuttered, "Er, y-yes. Sorry, I, um... I don't know. I was just thinking about something, then... I lost myself." As a tiny little joke to try to lift some of my embarrassment, I suggested, "Maybe its my head's way of dealing with asking strange questions? Eheh... heh... hehe..." I chuckled brokenly like that for a few moments... admittedly not a smart thing to do. I grinned sheepishly and darted my eyes around.
He just looked at me strangely for a second. "Er... maybe? But anyway, I was trying to tell you that Goldwreath's okay. I offered to take you to him if you're really concerned, seeing as I'm heading over to see him myself, but then you faded off like that. So how about it? You want to see him?"
I meekly nodded, feeling like any moment people would snicker and mutter things about me. Maybe those who were paying attention to me did... but everything around us was so busy, I couldn't tell.
He nodded. "Alright, Myst. Come on then."
As we trotted, he shook his head and murmured, "So they both blank out when they think, huh? Only two people in the world I know that do that..."
***Roama Victrix***
"He seems fine, m'lord. No major signs of concussion, which is a blessing. A few hours of bedrest and he should be up and about."
I let out a breath of relief, taking the medic's words to heart. While I didn't really know Goldwreath much, the news was very welcome. How could I even try to understand him if he were dead, right? But it's not like I was too worried about that, or that I had any reason to be... because in the end, it really was just curiosity driving me to this. Having it unsatisfied would be disappointing at most, I guess. Oh, and Goldwreath would be dead too! Eheh, there was that... and that would be a bad thing...
So, yeah, disappointing... but the thing was that I didn't want to be disappointed. I... I was excited to be curious! This curiosity, it was something I'd barely ever indulged before... and it felt so good. It helped me do things I could only imagine doing. Just a while back it'd driven me to seek out Tavish, working subtly in my head towards another goal. It was scary, yeah, but it gave me hope. Hope that, if... if maybe, if it were just strong enough, I could be like everyone else. I could question and talk with people, walk around near others, feel like a part of a community -- involved in life -- because I was curious. Because I wanted to experience things just like others could. All my life I wanted that... wanted to do away with my insecurities and just be like others.
I was wrong. Having it unsatisfied wouldn't result in just disappointment at most. It would lead to loosing a rare opportunity to... to feel better about myself. This curiosity, it was the only thing in recent memory that'd made me feel brave enough to do anything. I didn't want to lose it, didn't want to have another door shut in my face... I-I couldn't take more of that. I needed this... I really did.
My hopes had risen because of this strange stallion; he had, if indirectly, given me a rare shot at trying to break free of myself. So I was going to figure him out, even if it was the last thing I'd do. For my own sake, I needed to. And if... if he didn't find me odd or annoying for trying, maybe he'd take me as a friend... I wouldn't mind that, even if it were just for a day.
Please don't think I was selfish. I wasn't! Or... or at least I wanted to believe I wasn't. I... I just needed to know what it was like to live a life, to not be scared... this was my chance. I couldn't just let it slip... I'd let too many days pass by in misery to forgive myself I did. Please understand...
...
I, uh... gah, stop it Myst. K-keep it together... whoo, okay... okay. Sorry if I'm... if I'm getting off topic. I'll get back to it. You didn't type that down, did you...?
Well... I guess it doesn't really matter if you did. Everyone must know about me by now, so it's not like I'm a mystery anymore. I still can't tell if I feel glad or terrified at that. But anyway...
...
"Very good, Murdoc," Tavish replied, smiling appreciatively as he looked at Goldwreath laying in a bed, armor stripped off. He then looked around at other injured knights and praetorians similarly treated and put to rest, then back to the medic. "Very good indeed. Couldn't have been easy with the sudden influx of patients."
"Aaah, not that hard," Murdoc replied with an ease and confidence I wish I had. "Most had injuries in the same category. Made treating them a rerun of the same procedure. Mostly just minor burns and blunt traumas. They'll be fine." He then noticed me paying particular attention to the red pegasus, and I blushed and looked away. "What, him? Broken wings and mild cranial shock, if you're wondering. I tried to straighten out the wings, but they'll still take time. Swelling scalp'll mend quickly enough. Why, you know him, Myst?"
My eyes widened. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised he knew my name... word was that I was Tavish's 'personal serf', after all... but I didn't like that title. I cleared my throat as they both eyed me. For a few moments I just looked around the cramped room, trying to think of something to say that didn't make me seem... well, anything like I actually was: desperate, scared, and embarrassed. Really, as much as doing all this was a way to try to help myself, parts of me still insisted I stop and continue living like I usually did -- quiet; cautious; fearful. I had never gotten into much trouble with those, but... I never really felt like I was living, either.
Eventually the words came to me. "Well, I only know him by name, too," I replied softly. "But... but I hear he's part of the reason all these people have their freedom again. I know that he went through a lot of trouble down here, and that all he wanted was to rescue his friends and then leave... or so I heard. But then he went the extra mile to fix our problems, too." I shuddered, then swallowed, "Everyone's busy now. There's lots of work to do... and I thought people might forget to thank him and everyone else that sacrificed for us." I looked around at the other injured, realizing that what started out as an alibi had turned into something genuine.
"So..." I finished, "I... thought... since I'm not really going to be busy, I'd... stay and, well... thank them. When they each wake up."
Oh, the looks they gave me. It must've sounded silly to them... and standing there, in the tense silence of the room, it was starting to seem really silly to me, too. I could feel my sincere desire to want to thank them each waning with every second. I felt like I'd made a horrible mistake.
"Well," Murdoc smiled, "I don't see why not. These boys'll sure appreciate it. And hell, if you're gonna watch over them as they wake up and play nurse for just a little while, it sure would give me time to check on the others. I think it's a great idea. You, lord Tavish? She's your serf, so what you say goes."
My eyes darted to Tavish, and I choked down a nervous whimper as I saw him eyeing me thoughtfully. "Are you sure that's what you want, Myst? If you do this, you'll be responsible for them immediately following their awakening. You'll have to give them water, keep them feeling glad and appreciated..." He glanced around the room. "All eight of them. I won't be here to help you, so only if you think you're up for it. This isn't being forced on you." With a concerned frown he added, quietly, "Gods know they could use some care and attention. But if they start to make you... uncomfortable... you are free to leave. Understand?"
I nodded, swallowing. I understood completely; these were some of the same stallions that'd said those horrible things, and I was going to be alone with them. I mean, I didn't think I was in any real danger... but it was still a risk. One that I felt I had to take to prove to myself I could do... anything anyone else could.
Tavish gave a single, slow nod, looking at me strangely the whole while. "Alright then..." he drawled, turning away, his eyes still on me. While I'd always appreciated how Tavish never judged me, this time I felt like I'd acted strangely enough to warrant just a little scrutiny. I sure was acting differently from how I usually was... and in such a short time, too. So even from him, I guess some confusion had to come. "I'll see you later, Myst," he said with a faint smile, before looking around at the room one more time. Then he left, Murdoc right behind as the door shut close.
I swallowed and peeked around, then found the nearest chair and went over to it. A few hours before Goldwreath woke up, Murdoc said. Well... not a problem. Even with no books or anything, I could keep myself busy. Eheh, I guess one good thing about being an introvert was being able to amuse myself for hours with just my own thoughts. Or lack of thoughts, even. Really, waiting wasn't a problem for me. At least, not as long as the quiet lasted...
Then one of the nearby knights groaned and shifted in bed, his breathing deepening as he clutched at his foreleg. I frowned. "Well... there goes hours of calm," I muttered disappointedly, and with a bracing breath I stood and approached.
Forcing on a smile as one of his eyes peeked open, I said as warmly as I could, "H-hey there. Your leg hurts? Well, just, er... relax, and I'll see if I can't give it a massage..."
That's what I said. And I did manage to keep it together, at least for a while. But as more of them woke up, I realized I had gotten myself into way more trouble than I thought. Gah, I wanted to sneak out and pretend I'd never volunteered at all! And yet I stayed. As the minutes dragged on, the fear and anxiety... numbed. As the smiles turned warmer and more sincere, I saw those people differently. Now they weren't just a bunch of... of really perverted zebras and ponies. They had been brave, selfless... and they could be nice and kind, too. Nice... and kind... and friendly. Why, I could only have imagined seeing them so differently if I hadn't taken this risk.
And then, as I tended to them, a thought came to me. Maybe, just maybe, their image of me as a lowly little servant girl had changed, too? Even if I was just that at the time, I had hope. Hope enough to keep myself in it, even as the presence of several chattering, laughing people seemed to me like frightful screams to be ran away from. But I tried not to be afraid. I... I could do this. And the more I just told myself that, the quicker I realized that I actually liked doing this! This wasn't a chore anymore... no, I was talking to people now, keeping them glad and smiling. And it... it felt good. Better than I could've imagined.
Finally, the moment I waited for came. Over in his own bed, the red pegasus stirred. I excused myself, and with an eager smile, I approached...
***Roama Victrix***
"Hi there. You look kinda thirsty, so here's some water," I said, smiling as I held a hoof up. Goldwreath spent half a moment blinking, getting his bearings on his surroundings as he looked around. Finally his eyes met mine, and they widened. I thought I heard him gasp.
"Myst?" he asked, sounding disbelieving. "I... where am I? I was in the battle, and... the soldiers, they were following me as I ascended the Committee's fortress. And... now I'm here?"
Speaking to him was... kinda strange. It shouldn't have been different from talking to anyone else -- talking to others at all was... awkward at best, nerve-racking and heart-stopping at worst. But hearing his voice didn't put me off for some reason. Maybe it was the hours of conversation I had beforehoof, but something about him just... comforted me.
I sat down next to his bed, setting the water down. "You're at Arachna's medical ward," I told him. "I... I don't know what happened during the battle, or what happened to you. But you got hurt, just like all these others." His golden eyes glanced to the others in the room, seeming to take in their injuries. "I've... well, I've been taking care of you all for the past few hours..." I muttered, smiling bashfully and going a little red. The combination of embarrassment and the strange impulse to tell him what I'd done made me feel... odd, kind of quirky. Heh, just being near him made me want to giggle!
His eyes widened even more than before. "You've been watching over me-- I-I mean... over us?" he asked, stuttering.
"Aye," one of the knights replied before I could, making me frown in disappointment at not being able to tell him myself. Though the knight's neck was casted and two of his legs were bandaged, he still made the effort to lay on his side to look at us. "This fine mare here's been tending to us like an angel, right boys? Couldn't have asked for a better welcome after coming back to consciousness."
The chorus of agreement and further compliments made me go even redder, and I just barely managed to thank them.
Goldwreath seemed to think on that. Then a smile broke onto his face, and I felt my legs go weak when he looked right at me. Wow... he sure was handsome... "Well, thank you, Myst. I really appreciate what you did; I'm sure we all do. Yeah, we'd have woken up and been fine, given that we're all perky right now. But I guess we'd have felt a lot more pain and a lot more morose than if you hadn't done this."
All that said, he just smiled and averted his eyes, looking around at random things -- anywhere that wasn't me, I noticed. I frowned, wondering if maybe I'd made him uncomfortable. Maybe I was sitting too close? I inched away, and immediately he looked back at me. He seemed confused, brows furrowed as he took in the minute distance between us. Then, for no apparent reason, he gave a little chuckle and hurriedly grabbed the water I'd placed on the ground and drank it. When he finished, he just laid there, holding the cup. I was starting to get confused, but the more I looked right at him the more he seemed to look away from me. Even I could feel the awkwardness as the seconds passed by. I noticed he was sweating.
He cleared his throat. "So, Myst..." he started, and I perked up.
But then the door opened. Outside noise and light filled the room. Everyone looked over at a knight standing under the doorway, his body covered head to hoof in steel plate. His eyes -- indigo, a color I'd never seen in eyes before -- peered through his helmet's visor with a kind of... intensity, almost like heat. Everyone suddenly seemed uncomfortable. All emotion drained from me, except for... regret, and shame. Regret for... for some things I'd done in the past. Things I'd never answered for. Like when I'd once taken from a merchant when he wasn't looking; I couldn't help it at the time, I... I hadn't eaten in days. And when I once had to tell a poor zebra I had no money to share, even though I did... And so many other things, things so far back in my life and so small and insignificant I wouldn't have remembered them even if they'd happened just yesterday. Every wrong I'd ever done, however small, came crashing back to me... and I suddenly felt so heavy-hearted I wanted to cry, hoping my tears could somehow correct those mistakes.
The knight under the doorway looked us over. I cringed as his sight rolled over me. Unlike Tavish or Goldwreath's stares, this one's was just full of judgement. I felt like a criminal -- filthy, disgusting to look at. My already glistening eyes began to form actual tears of fright as those horrible, burning indigo irises bore into me. They narrowed, and all I could do was choke back a sob and turn away, feeling ashamed that I couldn't bear a simple look even after all I'd accomplished. I sniffed, hugging myself. In one moment, all of my progress, all my confidence... shattered...
That horrible judging glare only wavered when the knight's attention was drawn elsewhere. Eventually, he focused on each other individual in the room. The same people who'd been cheery a while ago were suddenly silent. One by one, they all seemed to grow tired, sleepy -- and eventually they did go to sleep, if uneasily. It seemed like they didn't actually want to, but if they were experiencing the same thing I was... I couldn't blame if it meant they could escape it. I'd taken it upon myself to care for them, so a tiny part of me was glad that they were at least trying to take care of themselves.
Unfortunately, that left me with trying to deal with this... this really scary guy.
When I finally pulled myself together, I stood. "Um... e-excuse me, sir..." I stammered, trying to find words. "You're kind of disturbing a... a really delicate recovery process. These people need rest, and if not that, they need a good mood. And no offence, but, erm... you're kinda not helping with either."
"Silence, mere mortal!" he growled, making me cringe back in fright. He shook his head in irritation. "This... motley excuse of communication Vox Populi has to endure to pursue his goal vexes him, and you would do well to abide by his authority. For that one has deprived Justice of its satisfaction, and as the hand of Order 'tis this instance's task to give due reparation."
"Erm... huh?"
"Gah, and your confusion!" he rebuked. "So typical of agents of Chaos to forget the proper manner with which to address the other fundamental forces. Well, it matters not -- you matter not. Now, you conglomerate manifestation of instances of Awkward and Anxiety, Vox Populi orders you to vacate the premises. This... breeder of Chaos here must be rectified before his actions spread further havoc and invoke such abominations as misguided instances of Bravery and Progress."
... okay, there was an insult or two in there, somewhere... but honestly, listening to him was both giving me a headache and really confusing me. Maybe I hadn't talked to enough people in the past to know otherwise, but those I had managed to talk to weren't so... crazy. In fact there was only one part of all that that I thought I understood, and I didn't like it one bit.
"You're... going to 'rectify' Goldwreath?" I asked, confused. I glanced over my shoulder at the pegasus and saw him just like the others: asleep, or so it seemed. His eyes seemed to move a lot, though... like he was having a dream. And from the tension in his features, it couldn't have been a good one.
Gingerly, I looked back to the knight. "That's... gee, wow. Sir, are you... okay? You're not drugged, are you?" His eyes blazed with disgust, and I found myself stuttering, "I-I mean, not all drugs are bad, but maybe you've had too much of one... cause, you know, you're talking about really strange stuff, and you sound really odd, and... well..."
"Pointless chatter!" he finally said, and then he yanked me up and dragged me out the door. I tried to free myself, I really did. But between angering someone who already seemed insane and dangerous and actually hurting him... not that I could have found it in me to actually hurt him... there really wasn't a lot I could actually do. I didn't scream for help, nor did I try to stop the door from closing and locking in my face. I didn't because... well...
"What the hell did you do to piss that guy off?" someone nearby asked. I turned and looked into the scornful eyes of a hoplite, hard at work carrying boxes of medical supplies down the hall. "You clearly did something. Cut him some slack! The knights were at the forefront of the attack. The least they need now is someone making life hard for them."
Tears swelled up to my eyes as his scolding features faced me down. My throat tightened and turned sore as I muffled my sobs. In shame, I turned away. I couldn't face him, nor any of the nearby others who saw me with the same contempt and irritation. I couldn't justify myself, not with their scorn weighing on me and freezing my thoughts in a terrified mush. They'd just scold and judge me more if I tried to explain myself -- so I didn't even attempt to, and hated myself for not trying. But what could I have done? I could act and smile if others were nice. I could have hope that maybe I'd finally found some people who were kind and generous enough to spend their time with me, and actually like doing so.
But never if anyone didn't like me. No matter what I was trying to do, being near someone who showed even a hint of annoyance killed whatever tiny dream I was hoping to make true. I lived off of other people's opinions. I needed them to be good so that I could have more opportunities to... to make attempts! Attempts at living normally. Because in those attempts, I hoped to find something that could finally help me cast off my fears. That could finally show me that there was something in life worth letting myself get hurt and ridiculed over. Those attempts, they were like my little expeditions into unknown places. Without them, I... I had nothing. If I couldn't have my attempts, then I couldn't find that something I needed. And without that, I was doomed to live always as... well, as me. Scared and worthless. I didn't want to be that... but I didn't know how to be anything else.
The hoplite snorted and trotted off. A few others stayed... and they actually went out of their way just to look at me like I was filth. Maybe I was. I mean... I was a needy, troublesome mare. My actions always caused others grief because I just wouldn't stop chasing my hopes. Every time I failed, I always tried again, at some point... no matter how bad it'd been. My entire existence revolved around others, the very same people I was scared to death of. They ignored me if I did nothing; they came to dislike me if I tried anything. Every moment of my life felt like a tug of war between two choices: I could either cower in silence, or try and be brave. Both had their consequences, but I couldn't decide whether it was the maddening silence of reclusion or the heartache of ridicule that was worse... and in my own stupid indecision, I'd been forced to experience both in an endless rut. That was my life, pretty much... my own hell, with me always...
I wished I'd never done this. I wish I'd never taken an interest in Goldwreath and just restrained myself. But... crazy thing is, I knew that if I'd done that, I'd have wished I'd taken the risk, instead. Always, always, I was locked in a conflict in my own head, and it was slowly driving me insane. I just knew it was. But that was why I needed to figure out others so badly. That was why I needed to learn their secrets. If I didn't, I was gone. I'd... I'd just off myself. Insanity was a whole new level of pain I didn't want to deal with. This agony was only bearable because there were bits of tantalizing hope in it... but I'd seen what insane people became. Sitting in corners, laughing to themselves and taking in their own filth... avoided by all, repairable by none. They were totally broken, and I wasn't. There was still hope for me, there was still time. I still had a chance!
As I faced the wall and told myself I still had that chance, I smiled. Then, quietly, I laughed in broken relief. And I kept laughing... oh, I did. I kept laughing even as tears broke out onto my face and people murmured behind my back. Hah! I don't care what you have to say! Hah... hah, I still have a chance! I could still do this! I wasn't insane yet!
I... wasn't... insane... hah, n-not yet... not yet...
***Roama Victrix***
I calmed down eventually. Cleared my head. All those thoughts, they were... well, I'd had them before. If I wasn't fussing over what to do or how to do it, or how to do nothing and keep myself out of trouble, I was thinking those things -- like during most nights. I'd stay awake for hours... then I'd cry myself to sleep, tearing at the sheets or clawing at the dirt as I begged for something to give me answers... things like that. No answers ever came, sure, but repeatedly pleading out loud was a nice way of tiring myself out and get some sleep. I usually had dreamless sleeps, which was good. That oblivion between waking hours was the one relief I could afford myself almost at a will.
Now, at that point -- about an hour after I got kicked out -- I was passing the time by looking at my little watch. It was one of few entertainments I could give myself to watch those tiny arms spin around, ticking softly as they went. I thought of nothing as I focused on enjoying my one little bit of fun. I didn't think of crazy, drugged knights evicting me from a room and crashing on the beds of my patients (cause that's what I eventually settled on regarding the knight: that he was drugged); I didn't think of the welfare of the people I was supposed to be taking care of... and I know that sounds really selfish, but there was nothing I could do about it. No one would believe me if I tried to tell them what was going on, so the entire situation was essentially out of my hooves. I could have taken a chance and actually tried, sure, but... I'd already gone through the whole emotional rollercoaster. Riding it again so soon would be so tiring I'd actually have fallen asleep.
But looking at a watch gets boring eventually. Putting my hoof down, I summoned up the courage to look around. To my relief, nobody seemed to care about what'd happened an hour ago, too. Which meant I could actually move around without fearing for my hide. I'd gotten tired of the corner a while back, so now I moved just a bit and rested against a bunch of heavy crates right beside the door. From there, I tried to listen to any noise coming from inside. Now, my ears were pretty good... sometimes torturously so... and still I didn't hear anything inside. That reinforced my theory that the possibly drugged knight had crashed the moment he'd gotten rid of me (though I did wonder why he'd only make the effort to remove one person from his withdrawal zone, and not the others). I guessed all there was to do was wait for Tavish and tell him what'd happened; surely then something could be done about it. In the meantime, though... what to do?
I wasn't going to talk to anyone, that was for sure. They were all busy, marching around hurriedly or stacking up crates nearby. And I can't stress how much I didn't want to... not so soon after my little tantrum, anyway. I supposed I could just watch them... but then I might've come off as creepy. Come to think of it, anything I could do at all would have some potential consequence. In disappointment and boredom, I settled on just continuing to sit down. Nobody had minded me for the past hour for doing that.
But as I sat there staring at the floor, a movement caught my eye. It wasn't like the fluid and systematic motion of the busy Roamans; this movement was jerky, abrupt. Focusing on its source, I noticed a mare -- a zebra dressed in the exotic garb and leather barding of one of the many tribes recreated in Spiderhole. In all ways, she seemed normal... except for the way she moved. Her legs were trembling, shaking uncontrollably as she fumbled around and bumping into people. In all her stumbling. Everyone got mad at her, just like they'd gotten mad at me. My heart went out to her.
She eventually stumbled all the way to where I was. But her front legs flopped into each other, and with a yelp that forced me off my flanks she crashed face-first into the solid metal floor. Then she lay still. I rushed to her side even as a few of the more considerate people nearby stood up and approached in concern. She groaned as I gently rolled her onto her back, her muzzle bloodied, and I balked as I saw the same indigo irises that knight had. Only this time the eyes they were in were soft and confused... nothing at all like that horrible scornful glare.
"Oh... oh my," I gasped, frantically looking around for something to clean her up with. A knight stepped over and bit off the sleeve of his tunic, then knelt and carefully soaked up her blood. Seeing it as taken care of, the others returned to their work, muttering and shaking their heads. But me, I sat there and waited until I was sure the mare was alright.
"There," the knight said, huffing as he tied the cloth around her head. He stood, wiping sweat off his brow. "That should stop the bleeding. Now, just... just watch over her, okay?" As he trotted off, he grumbled, "This day's already too damned busy without people hurting themselves. Gods, I hate today..."
"Erm... th-thanks for the..." I tried to say, but he was already too fat away. I sighed. "Thanks for the help." I looked down at the mare laying down on the ground, and I saw her eyes staring up at me. I shifted uncomfortably, swallowing. "You're... you're okay?" I asked.
"I. Do. Do... not. Know?" the mare replied, her words said and ended with such abruptness that even she seemed confused. Her brows furrowed, and she blinked. "Legs. Are... strange. Things. Thinking... like. This. Also. Strange. It... is. Odd."
I didn't show her my unease. She'd only have seen me looking down at her with neutrality. But inside my head, I was reeling. Really? I thought. What drugs are these people on to make them act so strange? Whatever it was, the knight and this mare had taken the same thing. It just wasn't coincidental for two people with the same eye color and tendency to act odd to both come to the same place.
I just shook my head. "You should rest somewhere -- here, in this corner. I don't know what's with your legs, but you're gonna get yourself hurt even more if you keep walking around."
"It. Is. Okay. I... think," she said, already trying to stand back up. Her every movement was uncoordinated. Her muscles seeming to spasm. I tried to get her back down, but she was determined. And in her condition, I dind't want to do anything that could've hurt her. She unsteadily got to her hooves, then stumbled over to the door. She couldn't control her momentum, and ended up throwing her entire upper body right against the metal. I gasped and stepped back as she then repeatedly flopped a hoof at the door.
"Justice. Justice. Let. Me... in," she said in between heavy breaths. "Gah... tired. Don't. Make. This... more. Tiring. For. Me. P-please."
I stood there, frozen in bafflement. Really? Could this day get any weirder?
I looked at her weirdly, then frowned and shook my head. I sat down, wanting to wait it out... but the door actually opened. The mare slid forward and flopped limply onto the floor inside the room. I wanted to tear at my mane as I surged forward to help her -- had this mare no sense of self-preservation at all?! But then I stopped short as the knight appeared in the doorway, and with his forehooves he dragged her away from the door. Then he started to close it.
"W-wait!" I called as I pressed myself right against the door, keeping it open. The knight glared at me through the crack, but I held fast. "Those people in there are my responsibility. I don't know who you are or what you're doing, but I won't be any trouble. Promise!" Quietly, I added, "I won't tell anyone you're doing drugs. Please please please just let me in, and don't harm any of them. P-leeaaassseee!"
But my begging didn't sway him. "Insufferable," he said simply, and drew the door back before throwing it close. I flew backwards, landing hard on my rump. Once again people saw fit to scold me. To them, I was some mare trying to bug one of them as their fellow knight tried to get some rest. But this time I didn't care. I had to know just what was happening with all those people, and why of all places they had to meet in that particular room. There were two of those drugged (?) people in that room now. If they weren't just going to crash, they'd be talking. And that I had to hear.
Pressing my ear right up against the door, I listened. I strained my hearing and focused as hard as I could, and eventually I heard something.
"So... Mercy," came a voice, sounding tired and annoyed. It was the knight -- the guy who'd called himself 'Vox Populi', but was called 'Justice' by that mare... wow, okay. Strangeness abounds, heh. What, were they going by codenames? Was that their way of keeping the members of their gang a secret? Cause I knew that there had been some gangs in Spiderhole. "Why have you come here?"
"I... I came to talk," the mare replied, her words said with more ease this time. "This voice, this way of... of communicating. It's crude. Strange."
"Yes, Vox Populi knows. He suffered a whole night of humiliating self-practice before he grasped the proper usage of this fleshy tongue. But such are the boundaries of the material plane, and of material bodies."
"Vox Populi? Hmm... the... the essence of Roam has that within it. It means 'voice of the people', yes? Have you named this instance that?" asked the mare.
"'Tis this instance's designation, though you may call it a 'name'. Whatever the case, it's a befitting title, reflective of this one's task. But enough of that! Tell my why you are here."
The mare's response was immediate: "Goldwreath."
"WHAT?" the knight yelled, echoing my own mental scream perfectly. "Vox Populi was told by Justice that he alone was on this task! Its virtue was violated, not yours! Kabal was given Mercy, but he evaded Justice! That cannot stand, and thus it is Vox Populi's duty to fix this malleable mortal mind."
"Yes, but..." the mare, 'Mercy', said, "But perhaps it wasn't the wrong choice. Perhaps this Goldwreath being here was right in sparing Kabal."
"Ridiculous! Justice does not expect you lesser spirits of emotion to understand a Fundamental's job, but you see, Justice is equilibrium. Justice is balance. Or at least it was until petty mortal minds concocted stranger iterations of it. If Justice lets such heinous crimes go unanswered, then all it is and all it stands for is forfeit. Take note, Mercy: all existence hangs by a thread. Order can turn to Chaos just as easily as Chaos can turn to order. Without Justice to be Order's arm, every action would have limitless power. And as we know, from power flows Chaos."
There was a short pause, then, "I understand. But... Justice, why must we be bound to the trappings of just one realm of possibility?" Mercy asked, sounding wistful; there was heartache in her voice. "Why can't we act as our nature would have us: as tools for discovery and interaction? That is what we have naturally transitioned into ever since sentience came into being. So... why-..."
"SILENCE!" Justice (or was he Vox Populi?) shouted in outrage. I gasped, my heart stopping for a second as a shot ran through my veins. "Such inquiries are befitting of Liberty, not Mercy! You see? Already Chaos has gripped you and torn you away from your virtue. There are differences between us for good reasons, you insolent instance! If all of us spun around, absorbing the life essences of each other and then having the gal to give ourselves sentience... this happens! Uncertainty of identity; dual instances; randomness of character! All lead to Chaos. If Order is ever to succeed in returning everything to perfect symmetry, then sacrifices must be made! There is no room for usurpation, not now, not ever! Chaos let many abominable things into existence -- its most horrendous act since the discordance. As equilibrium, Justice must undo them all. Only with their demise may the path to paradise be clear again! This war must be fought in the minds and actions of every living being; it must be fought on the material plane's subatomic level, all the way up to its galactic scale; it must be fought across the entirety of time, in every corner of existence, until the cosmos degrades into the limitless cold that once was. And even then, the war must be fought. It will never end, so long as even a shred of uncertainty remains.
"Justice is doing its part, Mercy. This instance, this... Vox Populi, is dedicated to pursuing balance on this world. It appears to be a difficult task, but it matters not. Chaos may hide among the innumerable crevices and nooks it has carved into this shattered creation, but always the burn of Justice will seek it out. Eventually, Order will be restored. And it can begin with this one... Goldwreath, conglomerate manifestation of instances of Valor, Sacrifice, and Obstinacy. When Vox Populi is done with him, no discordance shall be left within his mind for Chaos to feed on; no uncertainty, no chance. Never again will he be able to challenge the totality of Order."
I was sweating now, straining to listen to every single sound there was to be heard. My neck was starting to ache, my head spinning in confusion as I tried to digest all the craziness of what I was hearing. Then I heard a sniffle, followed by a sob.
"Fine," Mercy said, her voice heavy with despair. "Go ahead. If you want to bring back paradise for all your Fundamental equals... go ahead. Really. It's a noble goal." But with a sharp, almost seething tone she warned, "But don't expect me to stand by and just let it happen. Maybe Chaos was the worst thing that ever happened to you and your lofty symmetry, but to us 'lesser beings', it was hope. From the eternal blackness, we were taken in and given names, purpose... identities. We like living. We like exploring this creation and all it has to offer through the unpredictable and curious mortals. So... I'm sorry, but Order does not have my support."
The very door I was pressing my ears against suddenly felt scorching hot. A sizzling stung at my cheek as my sweat evaporated. I yelped and jerked back, clutching at my face.
"You... you speak... of SACRILEGE!" Justice bellowed, and then he roared murderously. Immediately there was terrifying boom, strong enough to vibrate through the solid metal floor. The door flew open and swung on its hinges to slam against the wall; a shockwave came from within, blasting me back to crash into a stack of crates. I felt splinters sink into my flesh, but the wind had been blasted out of me, and I couldn't scream.
People may have brushed me off earlier. They may have thought I'd been the problem. Perhaps they'd wondered what I was listening to, seeing as they probably didn't have ears as good as mine. But beyond any doubt, now they knew something had happened in that room. And I knew beyond any doubt, too... that it wasn't anything related to drugs. This was something worse.
As I lay bleeding in a pile of smashed crates, my eyes looked all over. The same knights and praetorians that'd been focused on their work earlier were now shouting, bunching up near the busted doorway and yelling demands for someone to stand down. 'Drop the sword!' they said. 'Don't do anything stupid!' they said. It was getting harder to hear them though... everything was getting so... very cold...
"I really... really should've just restrained myself..." I murmured, coughing as my vision went dark. My hearing had deteriorated, my limbs turned numb and weak. I had just enough left in me to hear them all collectively gasp in shock and terror at... something. But that was it. That was all I had the strength to perceive as blackness overtook me and I plummeted into unconsciousness.
***Roama Victrix***
I awoke to a lot of discomfort. My back stung, and it didn't help that a rough floor was grinding against it, too. My limbs were numb from inactivity. My neck hurt. I groaned and rolled around for a moment, trying to get a feel of my body again. Then I opened my eyes and blinked away the blurriness until a nearby rock became clear. I winced, a hoof reflexively snapping over onto my back to massage the flesh. I could feel bandages wrapped around my torso beneath my hoodie. I whimpered and lay there for a while, letting the pain recede. Then I gently rolled onto my back and looked straight up.
I instantly regretted it. Three jagged stalactites greeted me, each looming dangerously overhead. A freezing shot of adrenaline zapped through my blood as I gasped and kicked myself away from the stony spears, my breathing heavy and erratic. That was... not a pleasant thing. Even if they were several feet up, the mere image of what those things could've done gave me shivers.
I glanced off to the sides, realizing that I was laying over a towel within one of the tiny nooks of the cave walls.. I... I was outside of Arachna? Yes, I was... its silvery rod loomed nearby, towering over me with comforting familiarity. But I wasn't alone beneath it -- all around me, occupying almost the whole chamber that'd earlier that day been Spiderhole's grand market, people clumped in messy and disorganized heaps. Many were injured, their groans hanging in the air with an omnipresent aura of desperation and misery. Overtaxed medics rushed around, nearly tripping as they tried to perform several procedures at once. They'd inject a syringe there, cast a leg there, snap a limb back into place there... it was chaos, and the whole scene was lit with the disorienting light of orange torches. Half of the people I saw were like shadows, and the other half were so starkly lit with orange that the contrast from just looking over them sent my head spinning.
But what terrified me most was the smoke. Black plumes of it wafted up from the three doors of Arachna, each wide open. The smoke rose up to the ceiling overhead, shrouding the ceiling and the top of Arachna's rod in blackness. If enough smoke piled up, it'd start to lower... and when it reached the floor, with all these hurt people on the ground...
What had happened? Why... why were things even worse than they were before? This... this couldn't be real. It just couldn't be. I... I refused to believe it was!
There was a sigh right next to me. "Yes, Myst, this is real," Tavish said, and I jumped. I turned and saw him sitting against the rock wall, smiling tiredly, mirthlessly. He was exhausted. His armor lay in a messy clump at his side, his helmet crowning the top of the pile. His clothing was stained with so much dirt and sweat I wondered if he'd been used to wipe the floor. "I wish it weren't, believe me. But... well, here it is. Not acknowledging it is irresponsible. People got swept up into this mess, and we all have to clear our heads and help each other out. It's the only way to fix this."
I frowned, taking in the chaos again. It must've been a good one-fourth of Spiderhole's people that were in this chamber... that meant people in the hundreds. "I... I don't really believe what I'm seeing," I murmured, shaking my head. Now, maybe, just maybe, it wasn't really as bad as it seemed. When last I saw, most of the people were returning to their homes, looking eager to build new lives. At that time, quite a few of the Roamans had already been hurt... and looking over this crowd, most of them actually were those same Roamans. That meant that the number of added injured couldn't have been that high -- which was good! It meant that, along each of Spiderhole's eight spider-leg caverns, there were many others unaffected by whatever it was that'd happened here.
Good for them. Good for them... but this was all still so horrible. I'm sure everyone had hoped for the same: a bit of cleanup and reorganization, then gradual improvement. More opportunities, more freedoms; no more tension and no more danger -- better lives for all... my... myself included. The Roaman victory was supposed to be a dream come true, but instead there was all this. Now, if everyone stayed true to Spiderhole's new aspiration, this whole thing at most was just a setback... but I couldn't help but feel that some people would take the incident as an ill omen. There were lots of superstitious groups in Spiderole... and given what it was I'd just witnessed a while back, I was scared all their weird prophecies and stuff would actually have some merit.
Tavish painstakingly sat up and inched close as I stared out over the terrible scene. "I felt the exact same way," he replied, gently wrapping me in his hooves and pulling me against his shoulder. I was so sick of horrible sights... so sick of needless pain. I sniffled and pressed myself against him, trying to shut it all out as he threw his unclasped cape around me. But just as I felt I could let myself selfishly indulge in the comfort of his presence, he asked, "What happened, Myst? Why did the medical ward catch fire?"
I curled up into a little ball against him, shaking my head. "I don't know... honest. I wasn't awake to see how it happened." That was the truth. But the whole scene with Justice and Mercy replayed in my head, and I just knew they were connected to it somehow. "But... there was this knight. He acted really strange... and so did this one mare. They were talking in the room I was in..."
"After the knight evicted you, yes I know," Tavish said. My eyes widened as I looked up at him. Tiredly, he explained, "I know all that my brothers in the area knew. At some point a knight entered the room; a few moments later you were thrown out. Now, Myst, you mustn't blame yourself... I know that they scolded you, and I suppose given the circumstances they couldn't have helped it. I don't blame you for not being able to do anything because of them. You were confused and scared. You knew not what you could have done."
I smiled faintly as he stroked my mane. Even if all the world were against me, at least Tavish would always understand...
"But I cannot blame my brothers, either," he continued. "Put yourself in their shoes, and you will find their irritability could not be helped, nor could the things they said. We are all limited by our perceptions, Myst. Do not blame them for wrongly accusing you as the problem, for I am sure that they now know better. Alright?"
I nodded. "Okay... besides, it's actually really my fault. If I could have just told them... defended myself... I could've prevented this. I could have made them see, instead of wallowing in my own fears." I wiped my eyes as tears started to form. "I let this happen, Tavish. Me and my stupid problems. Please... please forgive me."
His gaze turned sad, but I begged him with my eyes to not disagree with me. Because this was the truth: I could have stopped it. I could have, if I wasn't so damn scared for my own skin to stand up and tell them. I knew it and Tavish knew it; any disagreement he had was just a nicety.
"Alright, Myst. This one time only, you hear? I... forgive you," he said hesitantly, seeming pained. A mirthless smile crossed my lips at his concession. "And... I'm sorry you had to go through all that without me there to help. I was scared to death knowing you were in there. And I know I promised to be at your side always, but... duty demanded satisfaction."
"It's okay. Everything before the accident was a nice practice... for a while there I even thought maybe today was the day. That I'd finally get to... you know, be confident in myself." I let out a single broken chuckle. "But I guess my attempt was doomed, just like all the others. I'll keep trying, always... but after all this, I won't get my hopes up."
"I understand," he replied. "I can't let you take the blame entirely, though. I know also of the... mysterious nature of the knight, and of the mare. Both disappeared without a trace. Was this orchestrated? An act of terrorism by slaver sympathizers? I know not. I can only say for certain that if they were more than they seemed, Myst... then I doubt you'd have been able to stop them, even if you were just like anyone else."
I swallowed, recalling with fear the terrifying boom that'd sent me flying into those crates. My cheek was dry where it'd been singed by the heated door; my back stung where the jagged pieces of wood had sunk into me. With that kind of power... with that much ability to hurt others... Justice and anyone like him were deservedly very frightening. But what was he? Fearfully, as if just talking about him would bring him back, I asked Tavish if he knew anything about the mare and stallion who'd caused all this misery.
The question stumped him. "I don't... I don't know, Myst," he replied tiredly, slumping against me even as I relied on him for comfort and support. He winced and tried to regain his bearings, and I decided to swap roles. I sat up straight and gently laid his head against my shoulders; he was way bigger than me, and kinda heavy for it, but it was worth it to see his grateful smile.
I looked at him curiously, silently urging him to continue. He met my gaze, and sounding less strained this time, said, "As you know, Myst, we of Arachna are not equipped to pursue investigations into such matters; even if we were, the area where evidence may be found is currently too dangerous to risk entering. My brothers... they say that the suit of armor worn by the unknown knight suddenly slumped before them, and that there was no body within. The mare disappeared beforehoof, or possibly while my fellows were distracted by the knight. So far, we can only assume that at least one of them was magically equipped for an escape. The knight may have been a unicorn, or the zebra mare may have had enchantments at the ready -- maybe even both. We have only speculation at the moment."
His features saddened, and he shook his head. "Which has... had some unwanted effects, I'm afraid." I rose a brow, not liking the sound of that. He caught my troubled expression and smiled, shrugging. "Ah, don't worry about it. Just some complications with my relationship with my colleagues. Given time, I'm sure it will all amount to nothing. You needn't trouble yourself."
"Tell me," I insisted, pouting. Pouting was the one humiliating thing I could do that I didn't mind doing, at least around Tavish.
"I... I really shouldn't," he deflected, but from how uncertain he looked, he was definitely considering it. "These are my problems, courtesy of my responsibilities and duties as knight-commander of Arachna, and now of Spiderhole. I shouldn't be troubling anyone else with this."
"But I've always troubled you with my own problems," I said, frowning from the thought of it. I wondered if my relationship with Tavish hadn't been one-sided, selfish. I had served him and gone on errands for him as his serf, but... well, physical labors just never equalled emotional labors in my mind. "It's only fair that you get to do it, even just this once."
He thought on it a moment, then smirked. "Yes, it would be fair." After a little more thought, "Okay, fine. Just this once. I guess I need an outside opinion of this, anyway." He took a deep breath, and with an irritated tone he said, "Imperius is going on a crackdown, thanks in no small part to this. Knowing him, Myst, he'll be completely... unreasonable. He will be ruthless, caring nothing for the rights and dignities of those subject to his fury. To him, anyone who'll object to an immediate search of their belongings and homes -- their recently recovered belongings and homes -- is a slaver sympathizer." He seemed infuriated by the thought, and he shut his eyes and growled, grinding a hoof into the stone.
"I have no doubt the recently-deposed slavers still have supporters," he seethed, glaring forward with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. "And if they did this, then they've only served to speed their own undoing. But damn it, there is the chance that they are not responsible. Imperius cares not for that chance. He blackened Onosander's eye when he was merely told to consider it! The Committee was a brutal governing body that deserves the harshest punishments, yes it's true -- but we should not accuse them of crimes we are not sure they've committed. To do so would be to become like them, doesn't he see that?"
He tensed, then let out a long breath and shook his head disappointedly. "At this point in time, the people of Spiderhole are like Imperius: quick to anger, judgemental, reckless... even now, you may hear them grumbling for death if you pay close enough attention. Whatever leniency they may have had is now gone. For that... I fear tomorrow morning's trial will be utterly lopsided, especially with Imperius insisting on being judge. Immediate execution is out of the question now, as is any chance of a fair verdict. With judge and jury both lusting for vengeance, I can only imagine what torturous sentence awaits the Committee... gah, it makes me wonder of the true quality of the people I work with and for."
I looked into his eyes for a long moment, seeing anger. But there was confusion, too, and also... helplessness. And he knew what it was I was seeing. With a shame I never expected from Tavish, he looked away. His eyes glanced over the scene before us, at the fire-lit body of Arachna and the silhouetted masses of dead and dying. The sharp smell of antiseptics and alcohol hung in the air, competing with the stench of sweat and dirt and blood. It was nightmarish to behold. If someone I cared for had been victim to this... if Tavish had gotten hurt, and without him to make me see the chance that it wasn't the slavers... then I'd want vengeance, too. I couldn't begrudge others their desires. They'd just recently been freed, and then this happened... who wouldn't be outraged?
After such a long moment, he finally said, "It's getting late, Myst. You should go and get some rest." He stood up and started strapping on his armor again.
I stood, too. "How about you? You're even more tired than I am."
"True enough," he said casually as he slipped his plated boots on. Then, wryly, he smirked, "But to hell with that. I'm a knight of Roam, sworn to her standards and values. I suffer so that others won't. It's the life I've been born to, the life I've come to love. Really, now's not so different from any other call to duty. I afforded myself this short respite only to make sure you were alright. And seeing that you are..." He snapped on his breastplate, then took the cape off of me and clasped it slots on his pauldrons, "... I can now get off my flank and get back to work. My brothers and the people of Spiderhole need me. It would be rude to keep them waiting. Just as well... I'll be damned if I let Imperius go on this rampage without at least trying to knock sense into him."
I felt strangely naked without his cape over me... which made no sense, because I was still wearing my hoodie vest. I looked around, anxiously rubbing a foreleg. "Where am I supposed to go? Arachna's... not really a nice place to sleep in right now."
"Well," he said, planting his helmet firmly on his head, visor up. "You could stay here. But seeing as there's over a hundred people nearby, and because I don't want you to suffer through anything for at least the last hours of the day, you could also stay with Goldwreath."
The mentioning of the name wiped away every last shred of meekness as I lunged forward. "He's alive? He is? Oh, thank goodness! I've been so worried. I... I didn't think anyone of those people I was nursing made it out! They were all in that room with that crazy knight. This is... this is wonderful!" Tavish was the only huggable thing nearby, so I threw my hooves around him and squeezed tight, squealing as I bounced on my hooves like a little filly.
Tavish just chuckled as he patted my back. "Indeed it is. My brothers managed to pull everyone out of the ward before the inferno started. It was messy, chaotic, and quite a few of the new people you see writhing on the ground now are here because of it... but no deaths yet, and thank the gods for that."
I pulled away, trying to keep my grin to a minimum. "Where is he? No! Where are they? I need to hug them all!"
"Well, then you'll have to wait. The knights you tended to are all somewhere in... this." He waved a hoof over the masses. I deflated, tail sagging and ears folding back. Then he smirked, and with an odd tone said, "However... Goldwreath is up and about, which surprised me. But then I thought: 'Don't turn down a good fortune, no matter how small'. Last I saw he was with a minotaur heading down the third leg-tunnel. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw Lampshade slung over the big one's shoulders."
He stepped back, smiling strangely before he pulled his visor down. Then he raised a hoof, and from the disorientingly-lit crowd rushed a bunch of knights. They assembled behind Tavish as he looked at me over his shoulder, starting to turn around. "So, the choice is yours, Myst. You could stay here for the night and risk being bothered by anyone, or you could ask Goldwreath if you can stay in their room... which carries with it its own challenges, of course. Quieter where he is, but hey, it's a long trot. I bet the decent beds they have in their room will be worth it, though."
With that, he left. I could only tell him from everyone else in the crowd by the wings on his helmet. And as soon as he'd disappeared, I left too. I was smiling like crazy as I zipped up my vest, searched for the stone arch that marked the third leg-tunnel's entrance, and cantered eagerly along down the cavern.
***Roama Victrix***
A familiar soft light poured out from under the wooden doorway. It was a small but appreciated comfort to see Goldwreath's room untouched by the fighting; in fact, the entire cavern looked just fine. The other residences built into the walls were similarly intact. Some people were even occupying them, and they stood outside the doors, chatting, and if not that they were embracing one another out in the open. It was good to see at least one part of Spiderhole turning towards a peaceful, liberated life -- the contrast between this and the horrible scene in Spiderhole's center made me smile, relieved that all the sacrifices hadn't been for nothing.
I couldn't quite bring it upon myself to knock on Goldwreath's door, though. The surge of joy that'd driven me down here to see him had... well, burned itself out. I wasn't really good at hanging onto motivations driven by good feelings... really, only goals given to me by desperation and fear stuck with me. It was kinda depressing... but in this case, it wasn't just the lack of good emotional fuel or the presence of negative stuff. No, This time it was... well...
"Why does everyone look at me like that?" the big scary minotaur asked as he sat down next to Goldwreath's door. He was cleaning his armor of blood and dirt, wiping it with a large rag. "It's not like you people haven't seen a minotaur before. Why the uneasy stares?"
I flushed and looked away, trying to form words. "Oh, I'm not uneasy... and, erm... sorry if I look like it... or sound like it." I cleared my throat and forced myself to look right into his eyes. "It's just that you're the minotaur that helped the Roamans earlier, right? I'm... kind of in awe. You did great in helping them... and all of us." I smiled at him, more out of satisfaction with my reply than actual gratitude... though the more I realized what I'd just said, the more I realized I meant it, too. "So... thank you. Maybe the others just don't know if or how they should say it, so please receive my thanks as gratitude not just from me, but from everyone."
I winced. Did... did I just say I was telling him something no one else had the courage to say? Wow, the stuff that came out of my mouth when I said stuff straight out of my head...
He looked right at me, and it took every last bit of courage I had to keep my smile up, however sheepish it may have started to become. Nervous sweat ran down my neck and back, seeping into my bandages and making my wounds itch. I twitched and stretched my grin as wide as I could, all the while mentally begging him to just stop looking at me.
It must've been a minute, and finally I couldn't take it. "So whatcha doing?" I blurted, stepping forward, my face bearing the crazed remnant of my formerly sincere smile. His scrutinizng gaze turned uncomfortable; clearly he didn't expect me to suddenly ask something out of the blue, and definitely not with such a stressed grin. I relaxed, resting my strained and achy jaw (and surely looking less psychotic for it), and meekly pointed at Goldwreath's door. "Out... out here, I mean. Why're you just sitting down here? You seem kinda... displaced."
"I am displaced," he replied, frowning and looking glum. I stepped back, swallowing, scared I'd made him mad. But he just looked up at me, and I saw not anger in his yes, but anguish. "Spiderhole is free now, or so it seems. The slaves now have lives, and the slavers are deposed. Where am I to go, then? I used to serve the masters because they had me and my brothers on a leash. We needed them to survive, and the others were more than happy to stomp you people down on their behalf -- it was a life infinitely better than languishing in the wasteland above. Yet here I am, the only Mountainguard to cling onto life and civility, and I live now among those I'd oppressed. Perhaps the people keep quiet because I helped free them, but soon enough they will remember me for what I was. And then what? I cannot say. I will likely leave to find meaning in life again. I... I wronged many people to keep myself safe, to stay in the favor of those who would have discarded me like trash. I won't deny it. I can't deny it. Atonement lies before me, and it would be irresponsible to cringe from it. No, I know exactly what I need to do... I must atone. The land has no shortage of slavery, and thus there is no shortage of opportunities for my soul."
I stared at him for a long while, remembering clearly the times when I'd seen him in the halls, forcefully shoving and scaring people... I was always scared of him and his fellow minotaurs. They were instruments of oppression, and we avoided them as much as we could. But this guy... he'd helped us. When things were most uncertain, he chose to side with us. That had to mean there was more to him than a beast of terror, however anyone would ever look at him. So I smiled.
"You'll do just fine," I assured him. "I know what it feels like to do stuff you don't want to just so you can survive. Really, I do. Now I don't know if, well... if you were scared to do the brave things for the same reasons I am. Probably not... but hey, you chose for yourself in the end, when the opportunity presented itself. So... keep it up." Summoning up the courage, I stepped forward and gently laid a hoof on his hand. He seemed uneased by the gesture -- I know I was. But I just repeated, "Keep it up."
He looked down at my hoof, then up at me. For one heart-stopping moment I saw a look in his eyes that could have been all kinds of bad stuff. Was it anger? Disgust? Desperation? The way he looked at me... it made me wonder if I hadn't offended him in some way. I also had the feeling that, if I had, I wouldn't likely live to learn from my mistake.
But he just pulled his hand away and snorted, muttering, "We'll see, pony. We'll see... Now, why are you here? Surely it wasn't to speak with me; I doubt you even knew I was here. Was it to speak with Goldwreath?"
I perked up. "Yes! Yes, actually, I need to speak with him. I, uh... I need to see for myself that he's okay. So, if, um... I could just go over to the door, there?"
He inched closer to the wall, gesturing for me to move. "Go ahead. I'm not his gatekeeper. Let him decide whose queries he'll entertain."
I quickly trotted past him and went up the stone steps to Goldwreath's door. There I drew a deep breath, and smiling I lifted a hoof up to knock, when something stopped me. From inside, voices argued, deep in disagreement. Goldwreath and his friend... Lampshade? Yes, Lampshade -- they were talking about something, and were trying to be quiet about it. But my ears picked their words out anyway.
"... can't stay here, Lampshade. I have a duty that must be fulfilled, as do the Legionaries -- but they can't leave this place, not yet. They need time to recover, and when they do they'll catch up. At least I can confidently tell their leader they're still alive. So I'm leaving. No rhetoric on your part of how this place can be 'a new home' for me will change my mind. I have one home that I serve, and it's currently under the jurisdiction of the people who represent that to which all loyalties in this land should be directed: to Roam. I'd argue that you should come with me and join the Legion. Yes, this place will be better now; yes it will, if governed properly, become a shining beacon of change and blaze out across the wasteland, bringing good to all, but... I've to move on. I trust Tavish to take care of Spiderhole."
"Well... suit yourself, dude," Lampshade replied with a sigh. I could almost see him slumping, frowning. "I was just saying. You know, there're opportunities here. Abundant chances to pursue a life in any trade. See, I thought your obstinacy was just due to having no options. But now I realize you actually really meant all that stuff about giving yourself up nigh-entirely for the sake of others."
"Of course I did!" Goldwreath snapped, sounding insulted. I put my hoof down, ears plastered to the back of my head as I frowned and looked around, wondering for the second time that day if it was appropriate for me to butt in. I sure didn't want to annoy him, especially if he was mad. "Do you think me a liar? Mark these words: anything that comes out of this mouth is truth to the greatest degree I can accomplish. Lying is for the snakes, the devious, who seek to manipulate others by way of guile and trickery. I'm a Roaman -- you are a Roaman. We pride ourselves in overcoming challenges through our sheer willpower and determination. Others say we lead ourselves to suffering, but then suffering does build character. So if I must suffer for my duty and honor as a servant of Roam, then so be it. Anything done for her cannot be a waste."
Wow. He must really take this stuff seriously. I... I really shouldn't be here. I'll just make things awkward. So it was settled. Tavish may have not cared for my intrusion, but I didn't really know Goldwreath. I mean, I wanted to get to know him, but I didn't want to get scolded in the process. Worst thing ever, being scolded...
I sighed and turned, starting to trot down the steps. But then the door creaked open behind me, and heavy, clanking hoofsteps thumped across the floor. Too late, I glanced over my shoulder. Goldwreath, attentive only to the loose straps of his armor, bumped into me. We managed to not fall over, but... oh goodness, his things! I'd knocked his saddlebags all over the floor! Panic exploded through me, and I frantically sprawled myself out over the floor to gather his things. Momentarily blinded by the swinging metal of his helmet, Goldwreath glowered, sending my heart racing as fast as my forelegs. Then he adjusted his helmet and, looking down at me, all his anger disappeared instantly.
"Myst?" he gasped. I cringed back, preparing myself for the smack that was sure to follow. But it never came. His eyes wandered over me, then over the pile gathered at my hooves. He recoiled, spluttered, then stood completely still. Then after a moment he sucked in a deep breath, and seeming totally flustered he bent down to help me gather his things. My cheek not burning from the strike that never came, I was frozen in bewilderment.
"I... gods, I am so sorry, Myst," he stuttered, seeming as panicked as I had been as he drew the pile over and started shoving the stuff into his bags. He looked right at me, frowning with deep remorse and apology. "I didn't see you there. My fault -- my fault entirely! You're... you're not hurt, right? Please tell me you're not," he said, almost pleading.
"I... I don't think so," I replied. We both stood as he finished cramming the last of his stuff into his bags, the covers swollen by the careless placement of his things. Not the way I'd have done it... normally, I'd try to find some way of neatly packing all my stuff away. But maybe I was just a neatfreak -- most people weren't neatfreaks, right? "And you? Are you okay?"
"What? Oh, me? Yeah! Of course! Got this... armor here, so I'm about as okay as I can get, heh..." he said, then flashed me a grin. It instantly wavered, and he cleared his throat. A long moment passed by in awkward silence as he glanced between me and the doorway. "Were you, uh... trying to find me?" he asked, his voice anxious. Again, I noticed he was sweating.
"Y-yes," I replied quietly, all sense of the need to hug him gone. The idea was still appealing, though, but now, standing there in front of him... I couldn't do it. It would have been way too weird. "The last time I saw, you were asleep in the room after a guy came in... long story. He's gone, and good thing too. I was worried for you -- all of you, I mean! You and the others... I thought I'd lost you."
He swallowed, nodding slightly, pressing his lips tightly together. "Yeah. I get that. The fire at Arachna... I woke up when they were hauling me out. I saw the plumes of smoke, the tongues of flame lapping after me as I was carried off on a stretcher. Terrible that it happened..." As he said that, conflict bloomed on his expression. No one else would've caught it, but I swear I hear him whisper to himself, "What the hell did you do, Vox..."
My eyes widened. They knew each other? Goldwreath knew the crazy guy who did that? No... no, no. Maybe he'd just... heard his name! Yeah! I read somewhere once that unconscious people were aware of what was happening around them. Or was that for people in comas? Oh, I hoped he just heard the name...
He noticed my unease, and he coughed lightly and quickly changed the topic. "But I'm sure it will be handled, so don't worry about it. I'm sure Tavish and Imperius and Onosander can get this place under control. They don't need my help, so... my job here is done, I think."
I frowned slightly, holding back my true disappointment. "Oh. So you're... going to leave." I shouldn't have been surprised. Of course he'd leave now. There was no reason for him to stay, and I didn't know him enough to do anything about it. I had hoped... but for nothing, it seemed. "Good luck out there..." I said quietly.
His eyes widened, his expression looking strained. "I... well, thanks." He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his armor. "There's just nothing keeping me hear, you know? I was supposed to save some Legionaries, and I did, but... well, they're too beat up to leave. I'll have to carry on for them, and it's an important job. So the sooner I leave, the better."
"Y-yeah. Definitely," I replied. I gave him a little smile, and he seemed glad to have my understanding... but all the same there was an awkward, tense air between us. I couldn't put my hoof on it.
But he didn't move. He seemed frozen where he was, his legs trembling slightly as he made slight movements forward that he immediately countered with a slight step back. Sweat poured down his neck as he looked around, seeming pained and confused and uncertain. I got concerned, and would've asked him if something was wrong if it weren't for the fact that something was so obviously wrong. So I left it up to him to say it.
Finally, he stopped. He took a deep breath, and in a single smooth motion he looked right into my eyes. "Actually, there is a reason I should stay," he said simply, but despite his calm face and unwavering stare he was clearly holding back some sort of unease. "It's night time. If the clock in there's correct, it's dark outside. So... hell, I'll leave tomorrow morning. Much better idea, now that I really think on it, hehe..." He chuckled lightly for a moment, then with a swallow asked, "So, nurse Myst? What do you think? You know my injuries better than I do. Do you recommend one more night of rest?"
Oh my gosh. I blushed hard, looking away. I couldn't hold back my smile -- something about being called 'nurse' just sent all sorts of images to my head. Nurses were compassionate, kind, caring -- at least that's how they seemed in all those medical magazines I'd read... and Goldwreath thought I was one of them. That... that meant I was actually getting somewhere! Right? Right! Yes, it fucking did!
I, uh... er, please forget I said that. Heh... anyway...
"I do feel you need it, yeah..." I replied, clearing my throat and rubbing at a foreleg. "I don't know much about medicine and health stuffs. Just as much as anyone else would know. But it's better to be safe, right? You never know what kind of damage your body took." But it's not like he's even really hurt anymore, I thought, eyes glancing over his broad legs and armored chest. He was fit, strong; he'd recovered pretty quick, faster than anyone I'd ever seen. And as if he didn't have enough going for him, he was... also pretty nice to look at, heh. He'll be fine.
He grinned sheepisly. "R-really? Great! That's great. Damn, now I can... I can stay another night, and... uh..." He turned around and called into the open doorway, "Lampshade! Hey, guess what? I'm staying just a bit longer."
"No shit," Lampshade called back. "You've been standing there for the past five minutes, and here I've been wondering just why. Whatever happened to leaving no matter wha-..."
"Things changed," Goldwreath cut in, stepping inside, seeming suddenly alive with boisterous energy. I wondered if the idea that he had reason to rest some more made him as ecstatic as he was. It sure did make me feel good to think so, and even better knowing that I'd given him the incentive. So that was one good, beneficial social interaction out of twenty... oh, out of twenty-one, counting the flop earlier that day back at the medical wards... and yes, I did count the number of terrible things that'd happen to or because of me. It... sounds kinda sad, I know.
I trotted in after Goldwreath, spotting him glancing over at me, chewing his lip and scratching at the back of his neck. Lampshade was in front of him, lying down on a bed, a hindleg in a cast and his chest covered in bandages. Then Goldwreath cleared his throat and turned to him. "See, Myst here said that with the hit I took to my head, I should take another night off. Just one more. And hell, I know nothing about medical science, so I'll trust anyone who even seems like they know more. So, great, huh? Yeah, let's... get this restive night of rest going!" With that he dropped his saddlebags down onto the floor, and immediately he went over to his bed and fell over backwards onto it, letting out a loud sigh -- all before flashing me a coy, toothy smile.
I returned it, parts of me beaming at seeing little bits of myself in him. Tavish may have understood me better than anyone, but every second I spent around Goldwreath made me feel like I'd finally found someone who was like me, even if just a bit. All the people I'd ever met were just so... polarized. The eccentric people were nothing but eccentric; the confident people, overflowing with pride; the meanies, all so rude and inconsiderate. Even Tavish as a person had all his character leaning towards the typical image of the ideal leader, or at least that's what I got from the two months of being with him and seeing his people react to him. It was like every person I'd met, good or bad, had developed to have just one side to themselves. Now it may have been untrue -- maybe I just didn't get to know them well enough. But I always listened hard. I always watched from corners, not drawing attention to myself as much as I could help it. I saw how people were like when they thought no one was near. The truth was, most of them were... repetitive. Trying to know them through observation became boring, and my own fear of actually talking to most of them kept me from ever learning much. But with Goldwreath, things were different. He was dynamic. He was interesting, and he wasn't a terror to talk to. Why him and not anyone else, even Tavish? I didn't know, it was weird; it didn't make sense... but it only piqued my curiosity further.
Lampsade seemed curious, too. Suspicious, actually. Narrowed eyes darted between me and Goldwreath, and my smile collapsed as I looked away. "Capricious one, ain't ya?" Lampshade smirked. "Well, hell, go ahead. For a while there I was scared I'd be left alone in this place. Company's a really nice thing to have, you know. But of course you know." There was something odd in his tone, and I lifted my eyes up just in time to see him giving Goldwreath a devious grin. The pegasus went rigid.
"Yes," Goldwreath replied, his words said through clenched teeth as he grinned over at the other stallion. "Yes, it most certainly is... in fact, it's such an obviously nice thing that you needn't say it again." He spared a glance over at me, but the moment I met his wide eyes he snapped them back over to Lampshade. Second time he refused to meet my eyes now... gah, there had to be a reason for it. "In fact I'd appreciate it if you didn't."
"Sure, sure!" Lampshade replied with a chuckle. I didn't really get what was so funny, though. "Sure, I'll not mention it again. Just rest up, dude! But you know, you're quite the imposing figure. Confident with words and high of stature -- that makes you the master of this house, however a temporary master you'll be. So please, won't you invite in our guest?" He looked over at me, giving a wink and a smile. I stared back, frozen by the gesture but with my heart pounding so hard I could feel every pump through my veins.
Goldwreath laid there for a second, and I swear for a moment his eyes blazed with a masked murderous intent -- much more subtle than the look Imperius gave people, but it was definitely there. Then he sucked in a breath and stood, approaching me with that same coy smile. He coughed and gave me a sheepish grin. "S-sure. Heh... that is, if she does want to stay. You do, right? I-I mean, it's none of my business, but... hell, it's not like it'd hurt. And this place could use some more people in it."
"You... you actually want me to stay here?" I asked in shock, recoiling. Okay! This was obviously another opportunity. But was I willing to take it? It was hard to think, standing right there, both of them staring at me... every second felt tense, and my heart pounded in my chest as I began to sweat, my thoughts all so hyped they crashed into each other. I mean, it's not like I didn't want to... because I actually really did. But most of these sorts of things ended badly, and I didn't want what little I had going between me and these two to collapse already. Something would happen, I just knew it. Knowing my luck, I'd accidentally break their stuff or something -- then they'd get mad, kick me out, and then I'd just try to forget it all with sleep... and then the next day I'd spend some hours trying to block out fantasies on what could have been. I didn't want that... and I didn't want them to have to hate me.
"I... I don't think it's a good idea," I answered, feeling my heart break just saying the words. I couldn't meet their eyes as I tried to come to terms with my decision. "I might screw something up. Clumsy hooves I have, you see, heh... and... truth be told, I wouldn't want to make things awkward here. You barely know me, so... you know how it is. I don't want to be trouble." I rubbed at my hooves and kicked at the dirt, then looked up and met their eyes. "You wouldn't want me here if all that would follow would be awkward silence and lots of stuff falling over, would you? Cause that's what tends to happen when I'm around. Trouble, and... bad stuff."
Goldwreath shook his head and sighed. He approached, but I stepped back. We frowned at each other, and in shame I looked away. I could feel their eyes boring into me, wondering. See, you two? Awkward silence. If I left, it'd leave with me. Just let me go. I was just keeping you from doing anything else.
"Listen... Myst," Goldwreath started slowly. His tone was soft, cautious. I guess he'd realized I was a brittle mare that he had to be careful with. I'd always tried to hide the worst of myself, but if he was acting so careful now... was I that obvious? "Listen. I knew lots of people that blamed themselves for things. They always saw themselves as the problem. The truth was, they were just really unlucky. Victims of a flawed system, or of circumstances beyond their control. And listening to you say all that, well... I've seen it before; I can already sort of imagine the life you got."
That got my attention, and I looked up at him. He gave me a sad, sympathetic smile. "Trust me, I do. When you're a guard tasked with keeping the peace, you talk to a lot of people, guys that only open up when they're drunk, or have nothing left... and you realize that the very same people you look up to are actually breaking down inside. It's an eye-opener. It's shocking. Sometimes I didn't believe it... I mean, shit, I was supposed to keep the ruffians in line, but that? It all became too real too fast, and I just... didn't think it was possible. I'd go to sleep after duty and I still see them, bent over a desk with an empty bottle of wine in their hooves. 'I could have been like them,' I thought, 'If one variable in my life was different. Just one variable.'"
He took a deep breath and looked down, looking solemn. There was something about him now, as he stood there armed and armored, that held my attention firmer than before. An air of deep thought hung over him, an aura so tangible even Lampshade kept quiet just to wait for him to continue. At last he looked back to me, and this time I maintained eye contact as he said, "So don't blame yourself, Myst. Life is unfair, I know that. Everyone knows that. It's a reality that, quite simply put, sucks. I wonder sometimes how the universe could allow such a thing to exist. Is there some fundamental law that's broken or something? I don't know. But if you live all your life as a slave to that harsh reality, then that's on you. But I believe that people can overcome that unfairness if they just try, with maybe a little help. You may not think it or feel it, but you can break through this life and find a better one beyond it. You just have to know it's there, and if you had doubt before let me tell you now: it's real, and it's waiting for you. Don't limit yourself, don't put yourself down, because you started out different from others. People are different, not disadvantaged. You'll see soon enough what you can do."
Normally I'd have stayed silent. I didn't respond to most statements; after all, what if my opinion didn't sit well with others? I usually just nodded. But that... something happened then. I felt a pang inside me, and not an unpleasant one. Suddenly everything seemed much clearer, and in me was such a lightness I felt I could float. Every breath felt cool inside of me, seeming to take away a tension that'd gathered over years.
"Really?" I finally asked -- softly, smiling, my eyes watery. I felt my breath shudder as I posed my question. "Do you... actually think so?"
He gave me a sure smile and nodded once. "I do. I honestly do."
I looked away and let my watery eyes loose their tears. There were only a few, but each one that left me were like weights off my shoulders. I couldn't hold back my grin as I stood there, both of them watching me with a mix of awe and astonishment -- Goldwreath's shock was much more subtle, while Lampshade visibly gaped at the scene playing out in front of him.
I finally got myself together and wiped my nose and eyes. I looked straight at them, throwing back the hood of my vest. For once, I didn't mind anyone seeing the entirety of my face and mane. If others could let those show, so could I. There was no reason I couldn't.
"I... I don't know what to say," I said with a little confused chuckle and tremble, my body coursing with the strange new lightness. "W-well, maybe... maybe I could start by saying I've changed my mind? Y-yeah! Cause I'd... actually love to stay." Then a familiar heaviness swelled in me, dragging my head and eyes down towards the floor in fear. "If... If you don't mind?"
There was still doubt. I didn't believe everything Goldwreath said... and honestly, maybe I only felt so happy because he'd said the things that I'd wanted to make myself believe for years. If nothing else, it was a sign of hope. If some other person could say those things to me, then maybe I had a shot after all. Everything had always been superficial -- they were only ever possibilities, or little goals, or dreams. Few of them had ever come true, and each time it was surrounded by a whole mess of bad stuff. This one... well, it wasn't different in that regard. But it was different because I hadn't worked my flank off to get some meager thanks or compliment, if those. This time my reward and symbol of approval wasn't a simple nod, or a half-hearted thanks. This time... this time someone actually went out of their way to try to make me see myself differently, to make me fell good about myself. And though I'd been doing just that for as long as memory could recall, it was infinitely better because it was someone else this time, and not me.
I couldn't leave him now. It was crazy, I know. Maybe it was just my tendency to get overly-attached to even the slightest of goods, let alone to such a kindness. But I just knew that I needed him. It just seemed so right! Tavish had been a brother to me, a blessing without which I couldn't have gone on much longer... but I had to keep moving. Maybe that was just my fault -- I always tried to settle down. Maybe I wasn't meant for it. Maybe mine was a life that had to keep moving, always searching for purpose. And maybe I'd found out all I could in Spiderhole, and now it was time for me to move on. Yes... yes, that was just it! That was the pattern that my life followed: a cycle of learning and moving, like searching for answers in a library. Would it ever end? Could I ever find meaning enough to finally face the world with my head held high? I didn't know, but damn me if I wouldn't try to find out! And since the stallion who'd been shown to me as my chance to move through the cycle again was right there, and was planning to leave soon... I knew I'd have to follow. I needed to just as much as I needed food and water. Opportunity was my lifeblood, and Goldwreath had the big plus of being an opportunity I actually wanted to take a risk on. I just had to keep hoping.
Giving me the most welcoming smile yet, Goldwreath gestured to the room, "We'd love to have you here for the night. And why not? You requested, and you're accepted. You never know unless you try." With an encouraging little nod he added, "And I'm getting the feeling you're going to be doing a lot more trying from now on. You'll be just fine, Myst."
I smiled and sniffled, holding back more tears. With utter sincerity I said, "Thanks. I'm... really grateful that someone could believe in me like this. I've never had these kinds of words said to me before." Which made me wonder if the minotaur hadn't felt the same way I was then. Probably, actually. Maybe he wouldn't show it like I had, but surely there was some impact.
Taking just a moment to stand there and reflect on... on the sudden change in my luck, and what might come to be because of it, I then looked back at them. They perked up as I trotted over. "Well, it's still kinda early..." I said, looking around the room. They'd probably not explored the place much; the few cabinets and drawers looked untouched, their contents probably laying undisturbed. I'd stayed in that very same place before I came to trust Tavish enough to live in Arachna. I knew what delightful stuff was hidden in the old furniture.
"So why don't we pass the time?" I opened one of the drawers, pulling out some old board games and magazines and other stuff -- I'd only ever touched the magazines, seeing as those were the only things that were fun to use alone. But now there were other people in here, and the aged puzzle pieces and instruction manuals could find use again. I silently thanked whatever people had lived there long before for packing the room full of such supplies.
I turned to them, smiling eagerly. "Up for it?"
They both nodded. Lampshade seemed amused; Goldwreath looked just as eager as I was. But there answer came in unison: "Sure!"
***Roama Victrix***
I was settled into the bed, smiling as a strangely pleasant numbness spread out across my legs. It'd been fun. Two hours of boardgames had drained us. But I didn't mind, even if I had to spend the first half of it all teaching them both the rules of the games -- apparently I was the only one who'd ever bothered to play such things... odd. I'd been alone for most of my memory. It was just kinda weird that some stallions who'd had actual relationships with other people didn't know a group game's rules.
But that wasn't important. What was important was that for the first time in... oh, it'd been such a long time, I felt happy. Like... actual happy. Not worried. Not paranoid. Not waiting for it to crash and burn. This time I hadn't cared to think on all the bad could-haves, and focused just on what was actually going on. And you know... everything was so much better for it. It'd been my first party ever -- if you could call fumbling around over some boards with two guys a party -- but it had the fortune of being one of my few firsts that didn't turn sour. If I wasn't exhausted I'd have been dancing around in glee!
But finally, it ended. We were now all sprawled out on each of the three beds. Goldwreath was awake, though, and was busying himself with lazily sifting through the contents of his saddlebags. Lampshade was in deep sleep; his exhaustion had prompted us to stop in the first place. Luckily, too, cause while I was glad I was able to start the whole thing well enough, I didn't think I knew how to bring it to an end without spoiling the mood.
As the onslaught of sleep approached, I peeked through an eye. Goldwreath's golden eagle thing was shining in the light of the candles, it's form resting in the stallion's hooves like it were his own child. He'd pulled it out of his saddlebags -- apparently it'd been encased in one of the inconspicuous leather pouches I'd sent sliding across the floor earlier, and I hadn't noticed. The shaft, I saw, was segmented; collapsible, then. Heh, good for hiding it at times... oh, but hiding it would be such a waste, I thought. It looked so nice and pretty... it exuded an aura of power and a kind of ancient prestige that I couldn't describe with words, but I could feel it. It was almost as if it were demanding to be felt that way.
Now, Goldwreath eventually began to collapse the shaft again, and reverently he wrapped the golden eagle in the pouch once more. I watched him as he tucked it away in his saddlebags, finding his idolization for a piece of metal fascinating. I'd always found that kinda interesting when it came to Roamans. I'd tried to find books explaining it, but I never got much. Just stuff about Jupiter. Odd stuff... but who was I to judge anything people believed in?
I smiled and sighed dreamily, paying close attention to him and all his minute actions with whatever focus a tired mind could afford. I felt my heart skip a beat when he started untying the leather straps of his armor to set it aside and reveal that... that really... that really robust-looking... chest... of his. And his wings...
Gah, I couldn't help it! Just seeing him in all his masculine beauty sent spasms throughout me. If it weren't for me being so tired, I'd have kicked myself up and gotten right up next to him, finding whatever excuse I could use to be near. The idea was so tantalizing that a burst of energy flowed through me, almost making the fantasy a reality... but I couldn't. No, it would have been just... way too weird. I still barely knew him, and he still barely knew me. But there was at least a connection already, and I liked to think it was a nice little friendship we had going. So I just settled on that and lazily turned in bed, wanting to sleep when I still felt so giddy and to have good dreams for it.
Behind me, I heard a faint chuckle. "Goodnight, you two," Goldwreath said. Then the candlelight went out and the room was plunged into a darkness broken only by the illumination from underneath the doorway. I heard him shift behind me, settling into his own bed. And then the queerest surety asserted itself in my head: he was watching me. He was, as sure as there was a world outside that door. I could have been wrong, I could have just been imagining things... but nonetheless, I didn't go to sleep for a long, long time. And I suspect neither did he.
***Roama Victrix***
"Goldwreath! Lampshade! Myst! Open the door!"
My eyes snapped open, my ears greeted by the sound of frantic knocking. I jerked up, the brooding sense of urgency made more intense by Tavish's familiar voice.
I was the first awake, but not the first to the door. Even as I sat in bed, frozen by the distinct tone of worry in his voice, Goldwreath and Lampshade awoke as well. It was the pegasus that rushed over to the door and opened it. Before another word was said, Tavish pushed his way in, armored head to hoof in knight's mail.
His eyes scanned over the room, and relief flooded into his gaze as he saw me. "There you are," he breathed, approaching me quickly and placing a hoof to my cheek. I heard him swallow, and he bowed his head, "I thought you were gone for sure."
That woke me straight up. "T-tavish? What's going on?"
"And why are your knights assembled in a defensive semicircle right outside?" Goldwreath asked, his head sticking out the door. He looked over his shoulder at us, his face grim with worry.
"For what other reason?" Tavish snapped. We recoiled at his tone, and he stood and took several deep breaths to regain his composure. He looked down at my startled eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry. Really. Things just happened, and so fast. I didn't realize it quickly enough, I feared. So please bear with me, I'm trying to wrap my head around things myself. If I'd had more time, maybe I wouldn't be so agitated."
Goldwreath gave him a forgiving nod. "It's alright. Calm down. And when you're ready, tell us... what this is."
"I don't suppose this is a party?" Lampshade suggested sheepishly. All our attention went on him, and I tried to withhold eyeing him with the same irritation and confusion the other two were giving him. After all, I knew what it was like being in his place... I'd been in it often, and looked at that way often. I didn't want to dish out what I didn't like to receive.
Tavish just waved his hooves around. "No! Not a party!" He yanked his helmet off, revealing a dishevelled mane and a face glistening with sweat. His features were etched with desperation, and with almost crazed eyes he looked to each of us. "I'm not good with speeches. Goldwreath knows this, and Myst -- now you do. So I'll keep it short: you three need to leave, and leave now." He swallowed, trying to loosen the tight metal collar around his neck with a hoof. "Imperius' ruthlessness is greater than I imagined. Rooting out the Committee's hidden followers isn't enough. No, so long as the very memory of Spiderhole's service as a slaver hub exists in the hearts and minds of its people, it can become so again, he says. Our past weakness will inspire future uprisings, he says! Gah, and we must show no more weakness, he says!" he said aloud, almost screaming, his breathing erratic and panicked as he swayed there, seeming dazed. I cringed on the bed, backing up to the wall. I'd never seen Tavish lose it like this. He'd always seemed so composed...
"You're saying... that... what? He plans to kill everyone? Everyone?" Goldwreath asked, shaking his head, looking disgusted. "I can't believe that. I've known Imperius for two days. Ruthless, yes... but not unreasonable. Surely you're exaggerating."
"M-maybe," Tavish spat... literally. As we watched, he was supporting himself against a wall, spitting out bile as he drew deep breaths. I knew that anxiety well... the kind so intense you feel like puking out your insides. What... what was going on? "But I can't risk it... I won't..." he panted, finally wiping his lips of his fluids. "There're few things I have control of in this place. I can blame only myself for Imperius having so much sway... my weakness of character gave him room to grow his ego. Onosander is young, I cannot blame him."
Having finally recovered a semblance of his former confidence, he strode up to the center of the room. Every second my heart pounded in my chest, the intensity of the moment leaking off of him and starting to choke at me. Familiar sensations resurfaced. I could feel myself trembling in the bed, numb down to my hooves.
"There is but one way to deny him more fuel for his fires," he surmised, "I must evacuate who I can. There's no telling what Imperius will do at this point, and I will not risk it. So please, you three, follow me. My ploy can only work for so long; eventually my diversion will be seen through. We must act now while we have time. So, up!" he ordered. "Get your things. There're two entrances to Spiderhole: one from the surface, and one leading to the Roaman underground. You can find shelter there."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I couldn't... couldn't process it. Not now, not so soon. I felt like fainting as I swayed on the bed. I take it back. I didn't want to leave. No, not like this. Not even for Goldwreath. I couldn't just forsake Tavish.
I would have resisted, protested. But I couldn't form words, or think the thoughts necessary for any of that. The atmosphere was just... so hot. I couldn't breathe. And making it harder to even think of protesting was Goldwreath -- he was actually obeying. He grabbed his armor, strapped it on, and slung his saddlebags over his flanks. He was ready to go; hell, even Lampshade, despite his broken limbs and injured chest, was making efforts to pack up. I started to panic. My lungs drew ever deeper breaths. I was hyperventilating.
Tavish saw me, and immediately looked pitiful. More so, he looked pained. He frowned and approached, gently, as the other two watched with concern. "I'm sorry, Myst," Tavish said, his voice anguished. "I don't want to do this. And I know you don't, either. But protecting people is all I can do now, even if it means sending them to unfamiliar ground. I... I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, I really don't. But damn me if I'll just sit here and take a risk too dangerous to consider. So forgive me... but you can't stay here anymore. Don't can't come back. Maybe you can again, after some time, but... I won't be able to tell you when. And because of that you'll do best to just stay clear of here forever."
My heart shattered. I couldn't have cared for anything else; not even for my own life if bullets were being shot my way. I started bawling, feeling my entire being torn asunder and thrown down the drain. I hated it. I hated... I hated everything!
I didn't see what happened next, or hear anything besides my unceasing rasping sobs and shrieks. I didn't care that they had to haul me off, taking along only bare essentials they'd force me to call my own in whatever hell of a life was to follow. I wanted to end it all, and I would have... damn me, I would have without hesitation, if only my hooves weren't so busy pounding at the armored torso of whoever it was carrying me off -- was it Goldwreath? Tavish? Someone else? I didn't care. I wanted to hurt something before I went. Luckily I couldn't actually hurt them, then, or I'd have proceeded to strangle myself. As it was, I just kept pounding.
Before long we were in a cave I'd never seen before -- it was wide, but steadily narrowed down to a width just several feet wide. At the end was a big metal door, atop which were golden laurels encasing a stylized emblem of a train. Next to it was some control panel, which some knight was pressing at frantically. We were surrounded by crowds of people, all writhing in the tiny space of the tunnel. It was chaos. Panic reigned, causing tempers to boil over and brawls to break out. And still I was just throwing my hooves at everything in reach.
"Myst, stop it!" someone ordered; it was impossible to tell the voice's owner in the escalating madness of the crowd. "Don't make me have to make you stop! Damn it, please don't!" the voice begged. But I didn't stop. Why should I have? My life was meaningless. Truly now, here was proof that every good had to be cancelled out by a bad. I could never get anywhere like this. So why keep on living? I couldn't end it myself, not with them holding me... so I was gonna cause so much trouble they'd have to. Yes, that they'd have to...
Then a horn blew. It was loud, so loud that for the briefest moment all thought and all things paused, even my own descent into madness. I suppose even a crazed mind had to acknowledge something as booming as a familiar horn. In this case, it was the horn of the Roaman praetorians. Imperius's soldiers.
From down along the tunnel, where it was wider, they marched up. Imperius rode at the front, using one of the slavers' own manticores. He beheld the sight before him, that of the writhing crowd and the tiny door that we were all being forced through. His eyes lit up with rage as Tavish's knights rushed to form a wall between them and us.
"Traitorous bastards! You would have these usurpers live? In disobeying me, you endanger Roam itself! All enemies of Roam... die!" And so he blew the horn again, and like a torrent of dark metal his soldiers charged forward.
Bedlam overcame all things once again. The door, so tiny, finally opened -- and into it the masses of people started rushing, screaming for dear life. I screamed for something else. I wanted to go to the battle. I wanted to die. I needed it! I struggled, breaking myself free of my captor's hooves, and began galloping against the flow of the crowd towards the fight. I felt myself being crushed and cut and bruised by all the people I was plummeting headfirst into... good!
I had almost made it there. So close, I could see the swords flashing and blood splattering. So, so close... one of the praetorians had even taken notice of me. Perhaps he thought I was rushing to the aid of the knights? Maybe. Whatever the reason, he came rushing at me, screaming, his shield ready to bash my face in. I smiled and galloped to greet him, my saviour.
And still I was denied. Goldwreath jumped in front of me, throwing his armored weight against the praetorian. My reflexes took over, forcing me to momentarily shut my eyes and look away. In that instance I heard a slash and a rending of flesh, followed by an agonized cry. When I had opened my eyes again, a bloodied Goldwreath stood where my saviour had been, looking haunted. Then he turned in place, saw me, and after a moment's pause he bellowed and rammed himself right at me. I fought him. I kicked. I even punched his face. But he was bigger than me and stronger than me, and over seconds that felt like entire minutes I saw my salvation slowly receding into the distance. It was almost dreamlike, the way I saw the gore and death moving further away, watching from over armored shoulders my peace being taken from me. The people's eyes were fearful and frantic as they rushed by us, leaving the pegasus and I behind as they rushed for the door. I felt drained, totally hollow as I watched in that slowness the events unfolding before me. I'd given up, on death and on life. Let what would happen to me happen as it would.
Spears were being thrown now. One of them hit the pony right in front of us. The stallion stumbled and tripped, falling right into our path. Goldwreath tripped too, me beneath him. Immediately, time resumed its natural flow, and I had a mere second to feel myself crushed underneath the weight as a mound of people crashed atop us, breaking ribs and flattening armor and barding. I felt my skull crack as I struck the stone, and promptly passed out.
Chapter IX Fundamental Issues "Which is the true nightmare, the horrific dream that you have in your sleep or the dissatisfied reality that awaits when you wake?"
So... that was the stuff that happened. I know it all sounds really odd and crazy -- even I feel that way for it, and I was there. I was there, in all that craziness... part of it. A cause for some of it. Even now I still have some really strong emotions for what happened that time. I'd almost lost it, after all. I probably had. Cause if it weren't for Goldwreath being there, I'd... well, I'd definitely not be here now. I'd have gotten myself killed; run through with a sword or impaled with a spear... and damn me, at the time I'd have smiled to feel death. Now, well... things changed, as you know. For all of us, not just me. Though, heh, I am telling my part in all this change, so I'll focus on that. So, where was I?
Oh right. Knocked out and crushed underneath the weight of dozens of people, I remember now. Strange to realize that such an important step in my journey involved so much pain... you know, that was the first time I'd ever gotten knocked out. In the wasteland, it was a pretty common occurrence. You pass out from pain, hunger, thirst, exhaustion... but me, I'd never really gotten involved in things that made passing out a common thing. Another perk to keeping to myself, I guess.
So, how to describe the first time? Honestly, it's nothing at all like you'd expect. Unless you really slowly feel it coming, sensing every weakening throb and dizzying breath, passing out's actually a pretty anticlimactic thing. It's like instantly falling asleep -- at least, that's how it was for me. So as with sleep, and I remember it clearly enough, I... saw things in my head. Dreams. I recall... I recall seeing Vox Populi, in full knight's plate, trudging down dark tunnels of concrete and metal. He was searching for something; I could tell from the way he looked around, how he squinted at minute details in the walls and how he paused to listen to every sound. Then he looked up and seemed to stare right at me. His brows even furrowed to show irritation. But then he turned and walked into the shadows.
I also saw visions of animals: of wild beasts, stalking dark corridors and halls. I'd seen such animals before, on the surface, always in packs and always keeping to themselves when not on the hunt. Strange, then, that I saw not that, but a huge number of them running amok in sewers and subways. You would never see so many of them on the surface, and not moving like that -- why, they seemed to be migrating... or running from something.
But the thing I remember most clearly were these two... red lights. Like, glowing orbs in utter darkness. I saw nothing else, and had no reason to believe they were anything special. And yet I couldn't help but feel that there was more to them. In my dream, I stared at them, following them with my gaze; there was a faint sensation of motion, like I was floating ahead of the lights as they glided quietly forward in an impenetrable blackness. But the more I stared, I felt... a deepening sense of intrusion in me. It didn't make sense. They were just lights. What was so frightening about that? Why, with darkness all around me, I should have been grateful for sources of even dim illumination.
But then the sense of motion stopped. I couldn't see anything but the two orbs, but I could tell we were now still. I started to feel paranoid. I was twitchy, and I really felt it. You know how in dreams you don't really feel anything? At the time you can't tell it's a dream, but you never really feel things as you would in real life. Things aren't as crisp. Well, here they were. Here, I felt every panicked heartbeat thunder in my ears, every shiver as a cold air wafted through the darkness. It was like I was standing on the edge of an abyss. Just one push, one strong gush of freezing air, and then... then I'd be thrown into some deep chasm, accompanied only by those two lights.
The lights and I, we continued stared at each other. Yet for all their aura of danger and paranoia, I couldn't help but feel they intended none of my anxiety. They were curious, like with animals near someone's fire -- they watched but dared not come close. Then the two orbs tilted, one moving up over the other, which descended. A soft, rapid clicking sound filled the air as the they oriented themselves the other way around and slowly moved closer. This time they didn't fly through the air in silence, maintaining an altitude. No, this time they bobbed up and down, and dull thuds accompanied them in their approach. I jerked back... or at least tried to. I was frozen where I was.
"You are not any apparition sight has shown me," someone said, his low, cracking voice sounding muffled and dry -- the rasp and thrum were signs of either thirst or a sore throat. A black shape moved from under the faint illumination of the lights, and it slowly approached me. "And who are you? Have we met before?"
I was really panicking then, breathing frantically as I struggled to escape. I flailed limbs I couldn't even see, but my position didn't change. I was stuck, and the dark shape only continued its approach. I was terrified.
But I was saved. Around me, the cold air blew like a full-blown wind, encasing me in their freezing clutches. The dark, prodding shape had only almost reached me before the cold grew so incredibly frigid that all my sight blurred and phased out, replaced with another scene...
***Roama Victrix***
I gasped and jerked up, freezing water dripping off me as I shook myself dry. Everything was so dark! Blurry patches of light illuminated through the haze. Still panting, heart racing, I blinked rapidly and cleared my vision.
Goldwreath looked down at me, his expression concerned, his eyes wide as he looked me over. He was panting too, and perhaps not just from exhaustion or worry -- though they were surely part of the reason why he was. The main cause must've been whatever injury he was hiding with the streak of bandages circling his chest and wings. They were a lot like the bandages I had wrapped around my own body; the bloodstains were even in the same place.
"Myst?" He took a step forward, leaning his head down. He took deep breath, swallowing air. "Are you okay?"
Memories of my psychotic episode flooded back to me, and though the anguish that'd prompted them had faded, the emotional guilt and shame that followed in their wake were as strong as ever. My physical response was immediate: I jerked back, feeling filthy and worthless. I scuttled away until my rump thumped into a corner. Cold, moist concrete had blocked my way. I snapped my gaze back to Goldwreath, and at the pandemonium of chaotic activity behind him. Those were the people I'd blocked; the people I'd rammed into in my maddened frenzy. I'd hit them. Caused them panic. I was the cause for some of the suffering they were now enduring in this... dark, dank sewer tunnel. I was to blame for this. I shivered, a cold breeze blowing at my wet form. Then a powerful throb jolted through my skull; my hooves reflexively went up to caress my temples, and I felt the bandages wrapped around my head. I shut my eyes, holding back tears of pain and guilt.
I heard wet clopping as hooves trotted close. "Myst," Goldwreath said tenderly. When I didn't respond, he sighed and tried again. "Myst."
I drew myself together tighter. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come to that. I just... couldn't take it..." I stopped myself short even as every needy impulse in me went off. I needed this. I needed to talk about it. What'd happened earlier... it was clearly all a result of bottled up stress. I knew that. I wasn't stupid, just... scared. I'd always been afraid to act on what I knew. But could I talk about it with him? Now? Here? With these people around? No... no, I couldn't. We had to get out of here first. I'd already jeopardized everything with my stupid tantrum. I could pay them back by not being a burden, at least for a while. If that meant bottling things up just a little more and controlling myself, well... I could at least try to do that.
Slowly, I opened my eyes. I met the pegasus' concerned golden irises, and fought down one last fierce impulse to blabber on about my own selfish problems. "N-nevermind," I said shakily, my body weak and achier than before. Goldwreath tilted his head and narrowed an eye, skeptical. "Nevermind. I... I can deal with this. Don't worry about me. It's... nothing new." That was a lie, of course. I'd gone through the same predictable roller-coaster ride of emotions before, but never anything that took my suicidal impulses and... and actually made me act on them. But he didn't have to know that. "I've dealt with this before. Trust me... I can handle it."
"Myst, you tried to kill yourself," he said bluntly, making me wince. He sighed, and painstakingly knelt so his face was inches from mine. Sternly, his eyes boring into me, he said, "If there is something wrong, say it now. The next time that happens, neither of us may be worth pulling out of a pile. Understand?" I swallowed, looking away, but he stole my attention back with a firm touch to my shoulder. His eyes narrowed. "Understand?"
I was shaking, trembling from the cold and from fear. I closed my eyes and nodded. "Can... can we at least talk about it later?" I asked, almost pleading.
"Of course," he replied, letting out a breath as he stood back upright. I looked up and saw exhaustion in his features. "No arguing the 'later' part. Now is... not a good time to be talking. No, we should be moving. If Imperius is determined, that door won't hold for too long." He sighed and looked over his shoulder, at the havoc. It was like seeing the crowds of injured and dead outside Arachna all over again... in fact, most of these people were likely present in that same mess, not even a whole day ago. And now here they were again, on makeshift stretchers and filthy cloths. Probably the only real difference was the space and the lighting -- the crowd was stretched across a long tunnel illuminated by green glowing mushrooms. If the orange of torches had made Arachna seem apocalyptic, then the green of bio-luminescent fungi made it all seem so... sinister. "Someone has to get these people moving along."
He looked back to me, then stuffed his face into his saddlebags. Out came a purple cloth; I recognized it. It was the cape he'd been wearing as part of his praetorian armor. Not a piece of it was on him now. I suppose he'd had to take it off to treat his own injuries.
He stepped over and draped it over me. "Keep warm and stay here. I'll be back soon." As he went off towards the people, he looked back at me over his shoulder, bearing a warning look. "Don't do anything stupid... please."
I kept to myself from then on. With him gone, thought overtook me. Oh sure, I'd tried once or twice to force myself up to help the nearest of my fellow refugees. It wasn't stupid, and I'd have been near where Goldwreath told me to stay, so it wouldn't have upset him... but after a few attempts I remembered that I had caused them their suffering. I remembered that I had been the one who'd delayed the evacuation. Heh, as if the damn operation wasn't dangerous and uncertain enough, right? Then along came me, a mare in the middle of a psychopathic breakdown. I'd lost the only place I'd ever come upon that accepted me, even if barely. Why, strip away the awkward routines and the stares I'd gotten, and my time in Spiderhole was the best I'd had in all my memory... it was the closest I'd had to a home. And... now it was gone. It and all in it that I'd loved. I was... lost again.
No more tears came. I had used them all up in my anguished tantrum. Now there was only the despairing, lonesome thought; the single question I'd asked myself as many times as I'd gone to sleep: 'What now, Myst?'
Well... off the top of my head, I had to find a new home, somewhere. Some place that would tolerate me, maybe even accept me... though nowhere would ever feel like Spiderhole. There I met one of the few people who'd ever made me feel like a person, not a fugitive. But where could I go? I knew nothing of the surrounding land or its people. I didn't know the local fauna or the animals. No, all that knowledge was deprived from me the moment I fell into Spiderhole's trapdoor. With the same time I'd spent underground, I could probably have learned everything about the locale.
An even more tantalizing -- and logical solution, too! -- was to follow Goldwreath. The idea warmed me a bit inside, and I brought my limbs in even tighter to compound the new heat. Oh... oooh, the thought of it... no, but seriously! Emotions aside, he was the only other person I could trust, even if just a bit. At least he seemed decent and wouldn't try to kill me... or, you know, worse. And he was travelling, too -- if I followed him, I could learn of the area in relative safety. It was always safer to travel with at least one other person, as long as your primary objective wasn't secrecy and stealth. Yeah... yeah, it could work, right? Yes, it could! And... and though it pained me to think on it, probably by the time Goldwreath was done with his travels, I'd have found a place I could stay. A new home. Then we'd say our goodbyes and... that would be that. Our lives would go on.
I frowned, then sighed. It's not like I had any other choice. I'd follow him -- at least my mind readily agreed (some parts of me even let out whoops and cheers, but the general somber mood of the rest of my head trashed their celebrations). The plan, well... it wasn't ideal. No, in a perfect world, I'd have had it that Spiderhole got fixed and Goldwreath stayed. Maybe then we could've been good friends. Maybe more... and I'd always have Tavish to turn to. But no. This was the circumstance forced on us. I had to go with it. It was hard to imagine things getting better with this plan of mine... it would never be good as Spiderhole was. But at least it gave me hope, even if hope always came back to hurt me. I wouldn't have anything left if I gave up on hope.
I looked up and around. Things were hectic but calming down. I suppose, having not been attacked for however long they've been out, people were thinking things would stay that way. Me, my thoughts drifted towards Spiderhole -- the entrance to which I no longer knew the location of. I swallowed, holding back the urge to burst into sobs. I mean... had the knights won? Or were they all killed, Tavish along with them? What... what would become of Spiderhole now? What would...
No. No, Myst. Don't think on what could be gone. You did that just a while ago and it made you go insane. Losing your home's bad enough... don't wonder about that. Please, don't...
The answers to my questions seemed obvious, but nonetheless I went to distracting myself. It was all I could do. Tavish had made his choices, his sacrifices, so we could continue living. And though I was pretty much an expert at thinking about depressing things, I'd be wasting his efforts by lingering on it. I had to move on. I did that all the time... nomadic in real life, and nomadic in thought. That's how I'd always lived. The only thing I could never get away from were my own damn problems, though, and all this... well, they just added to those issues. Like tossing more stones in a sack; things were heavier now, but I'd always known the weight.
Yeah. That was it... things were just heavier now. That was all. That... was... all...
I don't know how long I stared into space, lost in my thoughts. It could very well have been an hour, for when I blinked and looked around things had changed dramatically. People were getting up, moving, slinging rucksacks and saddlebags over their flanks and shoulders. Those too hurt to go without help were hauled onto stretchers cobbled together with cloth and walking sticks. It was miserable sight, forlorn and depressing, but not uncommon. Such things happened all the time.
But these people had hope. I could see it in their faces, and it surprised me. They had energy yet, something that drove them on. They stood eagerly, waiting with patience even as the darkness of the tunnel fought with the light of mushrooms to create dizzying contrast. They seemed ready, needing only direction. I stood up, drawing Goldwreath's cloak over me as a dank breeze blew by. What was going on?
The answer came with about a dozen stallions. Leading them was Goldwreath. They trotted close until I feared they were coming over to crowd around me. But they turned and stood at the entrance of another branch of the tunnels, one that murky and cold water flowed in on upon shallow moats.
"Thank you for getting them to trust me. In my haste I didn't realize that wearing this praetorian helmet would earn me so much ire," Goldwreath said as they passed me by. As he neared, he spared me a glance and gesture; one I was glad to return after how glum he seemed earlier.
"It was of no trouble," one of the zebra stallions replied to him. His was a very common accent, used by the majority of Spiderhole's... well, former residents. The accent drawled most vowels, but consonant sounds were quick and short -- the mark of the Voshiks, a large tribe that'd lived in Zebrica's badlands. At least, that's what I got from listening in on lectures given to the foals of the tribes whenever I got bored. "And seeing as they rushed to brand you a villain just like all the other praetorians, when you have done more than anyone in their lives to free them of their bonds, it would have been a crime to not aid you."
"Plus, your voice was the only one saying what we all knew but were too scared to say: we have to move!" another stallion said. The dozen of them stopped at the edge of the tunnel, where both sections of the sewer connected. The stallion nodded into the darkness. "I've heard -- and read, so this information is somewhat reliable -- that the Roaman underground was complex. So complex the workers that maintained it needed on-site maps to navigate it, simply because memory wouldn't be effective enough to stay in familiar places. I also know that the door we all had to rush out of leads east, to Roam. We could travel underground until we find a suitable spot to rise up from."
"It seems like a good idea. I was headed there anyway, before my travels were interrupted," Goldwreath said. Then his expression became pale and troubled. "The Legionaries were supposed to come with me... but they weren't capable after what Kabal did to them. Now Imperius wreaks havoc upon Spiderhole, with them in it... what will become of them?"
"They'll be fine," the first stallion said. "Imperius reveres Roam and anything it represents. If the Legion claims it is Roam, then he will serve them. He would risk no harm to its soldiers if it meant he would be seen favorably. He's very selective of who he protects like that."
"He was, and for a while we were protected, too! But now we go off to danger -- to Roam itself!" one of them protested. "I know nothing of cities, but... where in there can we grow crops? In fact, where on the surface at all can we make a living? We were safe because we were underground. My ancestors lived on mushrooms and mud-grown grain down here since the time when only the Roamans held dominion. What is there for us in that place? Nothing but irradiated, infertile land -- and more conflict! The cities must be teeming with savages. I'll not lose more sons to more pointless killing!"
Goldwreath turned to this one: an elderly stallion with a braided mane. His features were sunken, his flesh sagging at the limbs -- but he must've been strong enough to wield the spear in his hooves. With sympathy, Goldwreath spoke.
"Pointless killing is upon us, whether we want it or not," he said, his voice heavy. "At the time of it, deaths must seem so... pointless. So must killing. Both are natural, and ever so common in our time... and you know this better than me, surely. I am young; less than twenty-five. All we can do is try to make the deaths matter by carrying on."
Their conversation was interrupted by a string of noise, one that bothered me as much as them. That was because a new tension had settled over the crowd; a new fear, something that grew in them as they looked into the darkness. They must have been wondering, 'Do you want us to go there?' Now their enthusiasm was replaced with hesitation. So was mine, actually... Spiderhole aside, I'd never been underground, in dark places. There might have been creatures in there, monsters... and I remembered those red lights. Oh, those red lights...
Everything felt colder all of a sudden. I shivered and crouched, letting the cloak settle all around me.
"Looks like we'll need to liven them up once more," one of the stallions sighed. "Starting to get scared again. Seems necessity can never conquer fear..." he grumbled.
The crimson pegasus trotted past them and approached the people, who were already beginning to cause commotion. "That's because necessity is harsh. Reality is harsh. The people know this... and they hate it," Goldwreath replied, glancing back at me for a long moment. I met his eyes until he turned back around and looked the crowd over.
"People!" Goldwreath called, "Look at yourselves. You're scared. You always were. Of your masters, of what they might do to you... but you had hope, too. I can see it right now. And you've always had it, haven't you? Even if it was covered by layers of hatred and pride... and misunderstanding. For long years, fear and hope have battled around you, and some of you have given yourselves over to one side -- some to fear, others to hope. It was late yesterday, at the twilight of the battle for Spiderhole, that fear was officially broken and torn down, and hope blossomed. It was yesterday that Spiderhole officially became a free state, wherein you all were allowed to live your lives as you chose. But it was yesterday, too, that hope was killed. Backstabbed.
"Deceit poisoned our dreams. Indeed, I say our dreams because I hoped that the freedoms and lives you all deserved would finally be given to you. But it was by those we trusted that the most painful blow was struck. Free, and yet... exiled. That is what we are. All of us. Even me.
"We sacrificed much, and it all came to nothing. Long years of enduring... and languishing... and serving the masters! That is what you have given. And me? I have sacrificed my blood and the cleanliness of my very soul by killing. We have thrown out our backs, gnashed our teeth and worked our hooves till they were naught but bone... and for what?!" At this he stared each of them in the eyes with the same confused anger that fuelled their clamouring. "Where now is our hope? Where now is our future? Tell me: where now are we to go? What is our purpose in life, when all things we do seem to come back to us like ungrateful children and kick us when we need them most?"
With a fierce scowl, Goldwreath cried out his answer, "Our job now... is to carry on! Carry on, so that the sacrifices made by those we have lost do not go to waste. Think of your parents, who would've eked out tiny moments of respite during their labours so they would ask nothing of you when they returned home. And parents, think of your children! Think of the times that they, against your orders, went out of the house to seek ways to lighten your burden. Husbands, think of your wives; and wives, think of your husbands! Uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews -- know each other by name! We are all equals here now because we have nothing! We have no hope, only obligation to continue. That makes us family, friends, when we were not before. We are a united community, exiles as we are, and some of us are gone. We are incomplete, and that will never be fixed, never be fixed. All we have is the knowledge that they would have wanted us to live. We can give them that. We can live so that the memory of us all -- dead and alive -- never perishes."
Goldwreath stopped. His fierceness and confidence was replaced with a very sudden gloominess. I was shocked to see the twin streaks of glistening tears that immediately began to flow down his cheeks. He took in a breath, and after a moment he turned to the faces of the people once again. Their eyes locked, between them seeming to form bridges of understanding and sorrow.
"People... I have been a civil servant for less than a year, but civil servant I am nonetheless," he started, words said heavily. "Where I come from, my position is given the duties of peacekeeping and safeguarding order. Even if I'm not there, what I am still applies; and why shouldn't it? I'm a guard, and my duties are universal because the dignities of people are universal. Yes, I protect people... but I failed you. I have failed my duty... I have failed to live up to what is expected of me... I have failed the people of Roam. For my inability, you are now suffering as my home does: the certainty of our future is robbed from us."
His head slumped, rolling tiredly on his shoulders. Seeing him so fragile and anguished, it... it broke my own heart. I had every part of my mind urging me to go there and maybe hug him, but... his words were hitting home. I could feel pits opening up inside of me, so cold... so heavy in their emptiness that I collapsed onto my haunches. Perhaps I would have gone over to hug him, but after being reminded of all that'd happened, all that I'd lost... is-is it selfish to say I needed to be hugged more?
He shook his head as he stood there. "I know these words of mine make little sense, but to those who understand many words are as good as few. Bear with me... I truly did not expect any of... this." He flopped his hooves to the side in a tired shrug. He turned around and looked straight into the darkness. "I suppose... my point is that we have only there to go. All other tunnels are a dead end not one-hundred meters in. So like it or not, that tunnel -- that cold, black, smelly tunnel -- represents our future; it is all we have." He faced them once more, tightening the straps of his helmet and saddlebags and tossing a sack that clinked with the metal of his armor over his back. "I will not say don't weep, for not all tears are an evil. And I will not say don't fear, for lack of fear is foolish. But I will say this: for yourselves and for all that we are as a community, let us carry on and embrace our future, however dark it may be. Don't cling to hope if it's too painful, but don't give in to despair because it's easy. Keep instead a calm mind, and decide when the time is right what to make of the world."
He trotted forward, sparing us a glance as his hooves splashed into the water. "Let's go. There's only stagnation and misery here."
Everyone followed. Yes, they were frightened and hesitant, moving with murmurs and mutters... but they followed. Minutes ago they'd seemed ready for anything, glad to be moving. Then they'd given in to fear, and for a time I couldn't possibly see them going into the darkness. Without Goldwreath to unify us in our pain and loss, we would've been split apart. We were already bickering; just a few more hours of that, and we were done for. I couldn't have gone in there, not after the nightmare. And I couldn't have done it because it meant I would sever my last connection with Spiderhole. The fact that we were still close to it was all I had left of the place. But Goldwreath was right. We had no future here, not as things were. The blackness ahead was really all we had to turn to. And if he went in there, then so would I. It was our only chance. My only chance.
As the crowd filed into the entrance and disappeared, I galloped in, sticking to the wall, keeping my eyes wide open for light as people started igniting what few torches they had. By such dim light, I was barely able to make my way to the front where Goldwreath was. He'd pulled out his eagle, which caught some torchlight and seemed to magnify it a dozen times over. I got up right behind him and fell into a monotonous, solemn marching. For an amount of time I didn't care to measure, our hooves squelched in muck, our silence weighed down on our hearts, and the darkness surrounded us. Claustrophobia squeezed at me, and it was all I could do, like everyone else, to keep quiet and look to the ground in our misery.
But we had Goldwreath and his eagle to follow into the unknown. And that was just enough. Just... just enough.
***Roama Victrix***
"Alright... everyone, stop."
I collapsed. I just couldn't take it any more. There was no strength left in my legs to keep me up. They folded beneath me, sending my torso crumpling against the cold, damp concrete. Oh, they were so numb... and my lungs were on fire. B-breathe... I just... needed... to breathe...
All around, people crumbled to the floor in exhaustion. Through eyes I could barely keep open I saw them collapsing like I had, their legs just giving out. These were people who'd been subjected to manual labor for years, and I was right along with them on the dirt. A tiny part of me gave out commendations for my stamina... but really my stamina sucked. Always had. What can I say, I never exerted myself more than necessary. Still, as I lay panting and sweating on the cold ground, I silently promised myself I'd build up on my durability just a little more for future use. If it meant avoiding more of these situations... it'd be worth it.
A bright light approached. Goldwreath's eagle floated over to me, radiantly reflecting the torchlight to light the darkness. I looked up and saw his silhouetted face and those of the stallions behind him. Back down at me he looked, his eyes filled with pity and concern. Then he looked up and saw the same fatigue overtaking all the others. He turned to face the dozen he had at his back.
"These are your people. Navros, Kavik... what would you have them do?" Goldwreath questioned.
A stallion that could have been either of those names replied, "We let them rest. Six hours of marching in a tunnel with no moving air tires all." He panted there for a moment, then gave a smirk. "Except for you, I see. G-good for you, young one. There's a strength in you I haven't seen since my youth."
Goldwreath held back a bashful smile. "Well, I just focus on breathing. I didn't know it was taking such a toll on the people until you told me." He frowned, leaning against the shaft of the eagle. "I wish they'd told me. Then maybe I wouldn't be feeling so bad about it now." His eyes drifted over to me. "There're people here I care for. Some of the only ones I know that are still alive... and I didn't even know that they couldn't go on any more."
I could feel the apology in his eyes. I had to force myself to give him some sign that it was alright. Some facial twitch or expression that said it was okay, that my being tired was my own fault. I'm not sure if I actually managed to muster up the energy to give the sign, though. Oh, me and my non-existent exercise habits... and of course Goldwreath would be fine even after all that! He was... really... just meant for this. His body was built for it. Mine, well...
"Don't mind it, boy. If I were you, I'd have not turned to check on them at all. And don't go saying I'm heartless. Our only hope is to keep moving, and damn well do I know a person can go on much longer than this. But that's in survival situations... oh, the distances this bunch could go if they were being stalked by wild animals."
Goldwreath just nodded, looking around at the dim sources of torchlight. Without them, we would have been in total darkness, an opaque abyss. Only our meager torches kept that crushing black at bay.
"We'll need to know if the path ahead is clear," Goldwreath mused aloud, stepping away from them and looking into the wall of darkness ahead of us. He stared into it for a moment, then slung the sack off his back and started strapping on his armor. Some of the nearer people threw him annoyed looks.
"I hope you can forgive me for looking like those who robbed you of your future, but this armor may be necessary," he said, trying to calm them. He tightened the straps on his chestpiece and looked right at us. A semicircle had gathered around him and the dozen stallions, myself right in the middle of the formation. Addressing their concerns, he explained, "I shall return soon. But if I do not... well, you must decide if you go forward or back. Give me no torches; despair is barely checked as it is. Instead, see me returning only by the reflective quality of this eagle." He looked up anxiously at the golden idol, the thing he was putting much faith in.
He took a deep breath and said finally, "I will proceed until I see no more light, then I will return." With a nervous chuckle he added, "Don't worry. If something's down there, I'll make sure to scream before it kills me. That'll warn you." Immediately I sensed his regret at saying such a thing. The idea of shadowy monsters inflicting pain upon him injected fear into our moods, not relief. Now even he seemed hesitant to push through with his plan, but with a glance over his shoulder at the darkness he steeled himself. "Er... yes. So, just, um... sta-stay here," he stammered, then breathed deep and turned, disappearing head and hoof into the tunnel. The eagle's light must've died when he was a hundred steps away, but even still it died. Now there was no seeing him at all.
The anxiety that followed incited panic and fear. If it weren't for the calming efforts of the dozen stallions who'd taken it upon themselves to help lead these people, who knows what may have happened. Would it have reached a point where some of us would gallop into the darkness? We were in no sewer now, though on the middle of the concrete ground a thin and shallow coat of water flowed ever onward -- but not enough for glowing mushrooms to grow upon. No life was down here, no moving air. There was nothing with which to tell direction or get bearings. Anyone who left our bubble of faint light might never find it again.
I kept away from it all. All this commotion... I couldn't escape the guilt of it. I'd helped make it possible. I'd helped aggravate these people's lives. I was lucky none of them were pointing hooves or throwing blame. I couldn't have escaped their judgement... no, not even if I crammed myself into the darkest corner and the most desolate crevice of the concrete tunnel. I did it anyway, though. I looked for a sharp, symmetrical depression in the walls, like where the teeth of some massive gear would fit if such a gear existed, and stuck myself into its corner.
Ahh, calm... much calmer than out there. Less noise. I was little farther away from it all, but I was much more secluded, and I liked that. Secluded, but not alone; the noise I hated in direct confrontations I loved as ambience in the background -- and I liked that even more. Heh. It was actually pretty cozy in that corner... truth be told, I wouldn't have minded staying there, if I could live without food or water. And if Goldwreath would stay there with me...
"Excuse me, miss? I'd like to ask you something," a zebra stallion said -- a cloaked figure covering up the tiny entrance into my symmetrical depression.
So much for seclusion, I guess. I sighed and put on a smile, looking up at him. "I... I can answer, I guess. If I know what to say..."
"You do, trust me. See, I've been with this bunch for the past hours. Trotting with them. Talking with them. By extension, I have been doing these things with you, if indirectly. As Goldwreath said: we are a community, united in our exile. But I'd like to ask... what is your relationship with him?"
Woah. Okay, that I was not ready to answer. "Huh?"
The stallion smirked, narrowing his gaze. "Is he your friend? I suppose you can answer that from a variety of perspectives. He could be your friend simply because he is not your enemy. He could be your friend because you know him and you like him. I've singled you out for this question because you've shown the greatest interest in him among all these others. You look to him, but not just for guidance in this desperate time. I see a deep need for comfort in your eyes every time your gaze drifts to him. And so I wondered... and my father and mother didn't teach me to go unsatisfied. I've come to voice my question, my concern, because I believe the answer is of significance. You understand? I know Goldwreath, barely, but I see him as one worth following... especially now that I've no course or direction. I've decided to ask to be his companion, and if my observations of you so far prove true, you desire the same. I've come to you to scout out our potential future together."
I blinked, leaning back. I actually got that... and I didn't like the implications one bit. "L-look..." I started, stammering. "Don't get me wrong, it's nice that you see something common between us... I think... but I'm really not looking for a travelling companion. And I don't think Goldwreath is, either." But I really, really hoped he was. I shuddered and sucked in a breath, fidgeting with my hooves and rubbing them together. "Yes, he's my friend, but... just a temporary one. I'll go with him as far as I'll need to to find a new life, but the chances of being with him are... slim." I frowned. Really slim... unless I could break out of the agonizing pattern my life seemed to follow. Find a home, lose it, find another home... I wanted something different this time. I wanted... damn it, I wanted to find meaning and happiness. That heroic crimson stallion was the best hope I had for those, and I wanted to follow him. But would my life's pattern make it impossible?
I really... really... really hoped not. I could take following him being made difficult. What other anguish was there for me to experience that I hadn't already? But I couldn't take it if following him were made impossible. I needed it. It was my last hope.
The stallion just gave a single, slow, skeptical nod. "Slim, yes. But the possibility is there. It would be a shame to let it pass unfought for. I will take my chance and hope he accepts. You should do the same. A million unlikely things happen everyday, Myst. You could be lucky this time." Having said my name, leaving me wide-eyed, he smiled and turned away. "If he accepts us both, I look forward to travelling with you. And don't worry, I'll keep my distance, just the way you like it."
"You know me? Who are you?" I asked him.
He stopped and turned around. "Well, we've met before in Spiderhole. Sort of. I bumped into you once at the markets, and I know you by face and name because all the stallions of the knights and of the praetorians and of the hoplites know of the single mare in all our hierarchal institutions. You may not remember my name, being one of many you must've heard everyday. But I told it to you that time; I'm Delvius, and I would appreciate if you didn't tell the others a former praetorian stands among them. I am no totalitarian psychopath, and I detest all that my brothers have become. That is why I left them."
"Oh. Wow." I looked away, cracking a sheepish smile. "S-sure. No need to say it, I guess... Delvius." I pondered for just a moment. Delvius, Delvius... oh yes. Three weeks ago. I was looking at some nice salted moss from one of the stalls, and I bumped into him. I hadn't been able to stop visualizing the occurrence for the rest of that evening -- one of the quirks of being antisocial. When interaction comes along, you play it again and again in your head, visualizing how it may have gone.
My sheepish smile turned just a little more sincere out of a strange relief that someone else I knew came out of Spiderhole alive. "I'll keep it in mind. But really, I wouldn't hope too much. Stuff never really tends to go the way you want."
He gave a sideways nod as he took a step back, "That's why you fight to make them happen the way you want. Hoping's just half the job. Can't count on the gods all the time, you know." He bowed his head and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
I was left on my own once more, but not in peace. He'd provoked my thoughts again, and I couldn't get them under. "Fight for them..." I murmured, sitting in the corner and drawing myself in tightly. "If only it were so easy..."
***Roama Victrix***
Goldwreath's return almost an hour later was a weight off of all our shoulders. He came back smiling, brimming with an ecstatic energy that seemed to intensify the light around us. The tunnel seemed so much less dark. We gathered around him in a great, eager semicircle. Our moods were as relieved as could be, and we needed to hear what he had to say.
But he just looked at us, and with a cryptic, satisfied smile he simply said, "In a time of terrible circumstance, a great leader once said: 'I'll find a way, or make one.' Well, friends, I've found a way." And then he turned and left again, leaving us confused. We followed him anyway.
***Roama Victrix***
The light of our torches lit up the darkness, and my eyes went wide as my gaze was drawn upwards. The sight that came to us weakened my legs.
Before our very hooves was a spherical chamber so vast that the walls were nothing but a distant, omnipresent haze of dark grey. All around there was only this lighter dark, except for where the walls touched the distant floor; there, dozens of pitch-black archways, tiny in appearance but perhaps only because of their distance from us, skirted the bottom of the chamber. We ourselves had emerged from one of these passages. Jutting from the sides of the bottom of our archway -- and all the other visible archways -- were two steel rails that crawled into the darkness to converge into what I imagined to be some form of central grid. Overlooking the entire chamber from the center of the area's ceiling, casting the faintest glow upon us, was an orb of pale orange light orbited by rotating rings. From this pale orb snaked even fainter cables that wound down the walls to crisscross the floor like innumberable blood vessels.
Why... apart from the wide wasteland, I'd never seen such a huge open space. In that instant, the strangest mix of nausea and awe contended over me. I fell on my haunches, swallowing air as my eyes rolled around, absorbing the scene. I'd have curled up in embarrassment if I weren't alone in expressing such an odd bunch of emotions. I supposed the largest thing people born in Spiderhole had ever seen was Arachna's stone chamber, and even that was tiny compared to this.
Goldwreath stepped forward and faced us, flashing a brash smile as he waved a hoof over the area. "This, people, was one of Roam's subterranean metro nexuses. Rails from a huge sector of the underground converged here, each one bearing convoys of armored vehicles for transport. And this one's still got power, even if barely. Still, imagine what could be accomplished if it could be put to use! This... this place..." He looked around again, turning in place, his eyes gazing with passionate imagination. Seeing him so uplifted made me smile. "Well, I've only really read about its kind, supercomplexes all -- and each one a marvel in its own right. As luck would have it, this one harbors our passage to Roam. See, over there..." He pointed a hoof behind him at one of the distant archways. "... that there is the passage we must take. There is a map at the center of this place, engraved on a pillar of stone. According to it, our destination is only another full day's trot off."
He took a deep breath and gave us an affirming nod, thumping the ground with the eagle's shaft. "Soon, we will stand in Roam, and in so doing once more have say in our fates. I would have us all be empowered in the city that began the civilized world."
Not a lot of them were paying attention to his words. Mostly they were busy scanning the place, trying to make sense of such a structure. I'd had the fortune to see things like it before, if never as grand. But for anyone born and raised in a stone cave... it really must have been such a sight. Even the group of sensible elderly zebras Goldwreath had relied on for counsel seemed dumbstruck. I could see the question in their eyes: 'How could anyone who made things such as these fall into apocalyptic ruin?' I'd asked myself the same, when I passed by old skyways or ancient aqueducts. The only answer I could ever think of that made sense was that participating in a war spared no one from consequences. Not even the powerful and affluent.
The people stood there, caught up in there awe; others took the opportunity to rest. With most of them acting as if they hadn't even heard him, I felt the lack of response to another of Goldwreath's impassioned speeches was inappropriate. So I crept forward, slowly, and cleared my throat. "Goldwreath?"
His brows rose and he smiled. "Yes, Myst? We've got to move, but, well..." He leaned close, and I felt his breath on my skin as he whispered, "... with this bunch looking like they've just seen the whole world for the first time, I can't imagine us moving for a while yet." With a touch of anxiety, he cleared his throat. "Which... which is good. I haven't managed to check on you since earlier today. So if you've got something to share, I'm all ears."
Ooh, if there's one thing I was starting to really like about him, it was the effort and will he put into talking with me. Sure, he was a bit scary when he was mad -- who wasn't? -- but otherwise, he was the only other person aside from Tavish I could even think of talking my heart out to.
"I'm fine," I said, though it wasn't quite true. The vault I'd locked all the emotions regarding Spiderhole into was shut tight, and I intended to keep it that way. At least until I felt I could really let it all out again... cause that place, at that time, in that situation... not ideal at all. "I'm keeping it together, don't worry. I've done nothing stupid. At least, I think I haven't..."
He smiled. "I'm sure you haven't. I've never believed anyone to be stupid. We've all got brains. Some people just choose not to use them -- but to be innately foolish? I can't stand the notion of it."
I nodded. Then I paused, finding words to voice my piqued curiosity. "Um, about Roam... do... do you really think we'd be able to have new lives there? Like... like I could actually find someplace for myself?" It was a stupid question. Of course I'd have a new life there. A whole new place to explore; a clean slate. Nobody there knew what or who I was -- it was the perfect chance to have another shot at living... assuming I could muster up the courage to actually try to live. But though the answer was obvious, I had to hear it from him. I couldn't trust my own assurances. But him... he seemed like he cared enough to be truthful.
His smile wavered for a moment in confusion, but it came right back up. "Why, of course! And why wouldn't you be able to? Opportunity is there for those who would take it. You could do anything. See these people, Myst? If you liked, you could stay with them. Start a new community in the ruins. Or you could venture alone into the city, if you wished, though I wouldn't recommend it. You may not like crowds or groups of people, but at least you're more likely to survive with them. Or you could even-..." He stopped himself short, mouth agape. His gaze drifted over me before falling to the floor. He snickered and kicked at the ground, shaking his head.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Nothing, nothing," he replied quickly, lifting his eyes from the dirt to give me a nervous grin. I stared back, knowing just as much as he did that it wasn't nothing. After a few moments, he relented. "Just... just a crazy idea," he chuckled. "S-see... you don't like large crowds, but... I'm just one pony. I don't intend to stay with this bunch for too long before I go back on my mission. With Spiderhole gone, you're in search of a new place to stay... so I was thinking..." He cleared his throat, loosening the collar on his armor with a hoof. "I was thinking, you know, you could come with me. I know a place that'll have us both -- my home. It's a nice place. Has everything a person could want or need. People care for each other there... as in, truly care. You'd feel loved and wanted, as I have. There's no strangeness it has seen that's been too much for it, so... so if you want it, there's the option."
He let out a breath, wiping his brow. "Listen, it-it's completely up to you. But really, it's stupid. After all, you'd need to... to travel with me. And I don't want to make you uncomfortable or get in the way of your... well, any plans you may have. Besides, we just met, and I imagine trust isn't easy to give out here. So, yeah... stupid idea, right?"
I stared at him for a moment, then smiled and blushed slightly. Normally I'd have been quaking inside, trembling head to hoof -- that's what always happened when I was making a decision I wasn't sure about. But I didn't even flinch as I said, "I'd actually like that... a lot. More than you can imagine." I watched as his jaw dropped and his head jerked back.
"R-really? You'd be willing to take my word for it? You'd be willing to, you know... travel with me? Trust me? Listen to me?"
I nodded. "Very willing to." I was amazed at how sure I felt, how confident my words and how firm my resolve. Not once before had I felt anything like it.
He stood petrified there for a long moment. Then he took in a shallow breath, shaking his head. "Gee, th-that's... that's really-..."
"Alright now my boy, let's go, enough talking," the elderly zebra with the spear said, nudging Goldwreath off to the side to where the other elders were. In our distracted conversing, we'd been completely oblivious to the mass of gathering zebras and ponies -- all of them were now ready to move on again. Their eyes were expectant as they eyed us; we were all they'd been waiting for. The crimson pegasus was pushed over to the front of the crowd and made to face them, and he looked so flustered and embarrassed he couldn't think of anything to say as his eyes stared first at me, his mouth dumbly agape, before drifting over to the people.
"I, ah... uh..." he fumbled, shifting uneasily and clearing his throat. "Yes! Yes... let's go. Sorry about that. Er... distractions." Mumbling something to himself, he slowly turned and, casting me one more glance, pointed to the tunnel we were to take, all the way on the other side of the chamber. "Onward, then. To Roam."
We were moving on again. I trotted along gladly, feeling... light and... carefree. It wasn't quite a great happiness so much as a feeling of relief. I didn't regret saying those words, and that in my books was one good decision. The opportunity had presented itself and I... I just had to take it. Delvius was right. Hoping for something to happen was just half the job. Doing what had to be done to make it so was the other half. And I'd... I'd just done that.
Hell, I'd already hit rock bottom. I really didn't have anything else to lose (except perhaps my life, but of what value was that?). But there was a lot to gain, and damned if I was actually going to just let it all slip.
A minute later and we were at the chamber's center. My imagination had proven correct; there really was a central grid of rails there -- a huge network of overlapping tracks and platforms, forming all sorts of complex geometric patterns across the floor. Here the rails converged, each one occasionally cut short by some kind of gate mechanism. Wide circles were carved into the floor, further segmenting the tracks; gears and machinery were exposed by rectangular openings in the ground near each circle. Derelict metallic arms hung motionless, gathering dust. Chills ran up my spine at the sight of them. I didn't know why, but something felt really off about the metals in this place, the metals in the machinery and in the rails. Not physically -- the alloys seemed just fine in that regard. But each second I eyed the steel infrastructure, the more I felt like I wasn't welcome. The old machines seemed to be trying to talk to us, somehow.
I couldn't exactly point out why it felt so eery down there. There wasn't anything scary. Just old machines and platforms. Sure, the place was extremely dusty -- a blanket of white particles covered the ground, so thick that every step left a clear hoof-shaped imprint. But otherwise there wasn't anything worth being creeped out over. And yet that was the mood of the crowd as we passed along. You didn't need to be good at reading people to tell that much.
Finally, someone noticed something. "Why are there no bodies?" he asked no one in particular. "Even Spiderhole had skeletons. I don't know if people would have been affected by the radiation down here or not, but... I've wandered the wasteland for five years. No place doesn't have its share of remains."
"We shouldn't be complaining," a mare replied. "I've gotten sick of crunching bones beneath my hooves. And each one of them seemed to make a point of telling a story. An audiotape here, a note there... it just gets too damned depressing and irritating to have every bunch of bones throw its life story at us. No disrespect to the dead, but after the first few tales most people stop giving a fuck."
The sudden clarity of the fact astonished me. They were right. Not a single skeleton or dead body -- not even the slightest hint of damage. No cracked walls or fallen ceiling concrete, no broken columns or... or anything. Even the tracks were clean of scorch marks where steel would've ground on steel. The place was so barren it must've been out of use years before the apocalypse even occurred, but surely that wasn't the case. Surely the Roamans just... I don't know, just did a really good job of vacating the area? After all, why would anyone stop using such a facility?
I pondered on the question. Then Goldwreath jumped up onto the nearest platform, sending a cloud dust flying everywhere, and pointed at a wide circular slab protruding from the ground nearby. "That there's the map, people. Rest assured, I've confirmed the direction we need to go, but if you need assurance feel free to take a look. But we must keep moving. We didn't bring a lot of supplies with us, and Roam's a long trot off. Best to make it quick."
Well... a map of the place I was going to did sound interesting. I mean, I'd seen maps of it before, but each one was faded or damaged. If everything else here was pristine, then why not the map? My curiosity piqued, I trotted away from the main body of the group to take a look. I won't take more than a minute, I told myself. And even if I did, we numbered in the hundreds. For all the chamber's size, one couldn't possibly miss a crowd that big, not when they made a lot of noise.
And even if I did lose them, I thought giddily, almost squealing as I grinned, Goldwreath wouldn't leave without me. I... I think he may even like me! As in, like-like. It's obvious now that I think back on it all, but at the time the idea of someone liking me was too... fantastical, too wishful for me to ever really consider. Why, I considered myself lucky if the thought came to mind that someone viewed me as a mere friend. And at that point, Goldwreath and I were friends. But given hope, my mind had decided to toy around with the idea a bit, to give me something more to chew on.
So yes, while I very much could've just been fooling myself with fantasies, the seed for my giddiness had to have been planted there by something. Goldwreath's demeanor had been friendly and gentle ever since he'd met me, but he was no cringing ball of stutters around anyone else. The signs had been clear since our eyes first met; I just didn't give them the proper attention. Until now. Goldwreath's proposal was the final piece of evidence my mind needed to change its subconscious. Now, more clearly than ever, I was seeing every interaction I'd had with him in our short relationship. The conclusion I came to was so delightful I squealed and did a little dance right where I stood.
But the expression of excitement brought me back to reality. I shook my head and recomposed myself, bringing my smile down a few notches. Even still, the idea was at the front of my mind as I looked the map over, but not really paying much attention to it. I mean, it was a wonderful thing -- carved into the concrete slab were detailed and colored outlines and diagrams of the cities of Roam and Appolania, as well as the underground tunnels connecting them; on the diagram was even a marking detailing our location along those tunnels, and which one we had to take to get to where. That was all well and good, but my excitement had inadvertently set me up to be in a mood not suited for paying attention to massive amounts of boring, tiny, hard-to-read Imperial text. My scanning of the map lasted all of ten seconds before I turned away to run back to the others.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
"Um... hello?" I called. The place was empty. Not a single torch blazed in the distance, not a rumble through the ground from hoofsteps. I was... alone.
My blood turned to ice and my hooves began to tremble. Very slowly, I turned to look back at the map, then back at the lifeless chamber before me. I... I couldn't have been standing there for too long, daydreaming, had I? It'd only been a minute, a few at the most! Then add ten seconds for the map, and... and I should've had time! They should've been well within sight.
But part of me suspected. Part of me didn't believe that I'd been accurately measuring my time. Part of me knew I'd let myself get distracted for too long. And if I actually had been entranced for longer than I thought, and Goldwreath hadn't come back for me... then he either didn't know I was gone, or hadn't cared enough to make sure I was with them. My heart squeezed inside my chest, and I blinked back a pained tear. I couldn't bear the thought.
My breath quivered. My heart pounding, I galloped desperately for the tunnel they'd been heading for. But as I went I noticed things were getting darker, darker, darker... until at last the faintly glowing orb and its equally dim web of criss-crossing power veins had their lights utterly snuffed out. I skidded to a stop, barely able to make out the outline of a metal arm hanging over a derelict rail in front of me.
I was alone in the dark. A heavy silence blanketed the area, adding to my isolation.
My body was soaked with nervous sweat, my eyes moist. My weak and trembling legs carried me forward for one last desperate canter. Then I stopped, and shouted into the void, "Goldwreath!"
Nothing but echoes. With each reiteration of my plea, a faint ringing flooded into the tunnel. It was gradual at first, growing each second. I thought nothing of it until it came full force like a screech, tearing at my ears and causing such pain to my throbbing, cracked skull that I cried and fell onto the ground. I held my head in my hooves, thrashing around. Then just as quickly as it came, it left. Why, it more than just left -- it took with it my pain and the nervous heat that'd been boiling my insides. I felt... good. No physical gripe whatsoever.
Cautiously, I sat back up. Now things were lighter again; the ground was lit with the power cables, like veins of magma running underneath the floor. They were much brighter now, glowing powerfully, but they only illuminated in straight lines going up, leaving so much of the chamber in high-contrast dark.
I looked around anxiously, then, my rear end to the tunnel, started backing away from the chamber. That's when I heard the voices.
"Move it, immunes!" a stallion ordered. I whirled around and caught sight of zebras; armored zebras, their metal glittering in the weak light. If I didn't know better, I'd have said they were more of Imerpius' praetorians, and if they were I'd have done best to hide. But the momentary terror was snuffed out by their obvious affiliation with the Legion; I'd spent enough time on the surface to know them when I saw them. It was hard to count their number -- eight of them, maybe? Well, that didn't matter. They were close enough that I could beg for their help.
I cantered hastily over to meet them. "Oh, oh excuse me! I-I need help. My friends went down this way. D-did you see them by any chance?"
They continued galloping, their line reaching both ends of the tunnel. At the spot where the tunnel met the chamber, they stopped, drew their swords, set down their shields, and entered a defensive formation. I froze, backing away from them.
Their was a terrible moment of silence, then, "I didn't see anything," one of them said. A Legionary officer with a crested helmet came up from behind the line and stood next to one of the soldiers. He fixed me with a stare.
I swallowed, fidgeting. "O-oh... then, maybe you could take me with you? Or help me find them? If it's not too much to ask, I mean. Please, I don't like it here..."
But there was something... off about them. I could see them. I could hear them. But something about the way they acted made it seem like they didn't even notice me. The officer's gaze held onto me, but without particular interest. Then I had the feeling he wasn't looking at me, but at the spot where I was.
Finally his eyes wandered over the chamber. As he did a soldier said, "But sir, I swear on the gods, I saw something. It was a shadow, but... different. Shadows can't exist right in the light, sir!"
"Um... hello?" I interjected meekly.
They ignored me entirely. "Well, there's naught here but rusted machinery and broken platforms. See?" He pointed a hoof forward. "Nothing's here."
I looked back and caught my breath. Where before there'd been pristine concrete and spotless steel for the machines and rails, now there was almost nothing. The silhouettes of the platforms were jagged and cracked, nothing at all like the smooth stone I'd witnessed. The few bits of machinery that shone in the light were brown and crumbling, groaning under their own weight. This... this couldn't have been the same chamber. There was too much structural damage, too much rubble scattered about.
"Our orders were to rendezvous with the the legion over at Marediolanon," reminded the officer, "Not chase shadows down here. Look, Nubius, we're tired and we've been seeing things. That doesn't mean they're there! Damn me if I couldn't use some coffee to banish these damned phantoms I've been seeing..."
One of the soldiers broke his stance and looked up. "So you have been seeing things!"
The officer sighed. "Just phantoms, Nubius. Illusions. Same as you. You all know the stories the auxiliaries tell around the fires -- how their tribes had tried to make a living in the underground, but left because of... ill omens. But that's just a bunch of shit, I say. Nothing's down here, and even if there were we've no reason to pursue it. Best we head back to the Line and trot in tunnels more... domesticated. I take it none of us like it here."
"All for it, sir," another soldier said, his eyes darting nervously around. "These unexplored tunnels give me the creeps. You feel like you're being watched, then you shine your light, and nothing's there. The maps we've got seem wrong. The controls don't respond even if they should. The gods-damned floor's covered in all this dust that gets into my eyes and nose and makes me feel sick... I fucking hate this place. A stinking pit is what it is. A void that should be left alone. Nothing good ever happened in the dark down here."
From the dark tunnel behind them, two red orbs lit up. I stepped back, eyes wide. Whoever these people were... if they were even there... I didn't want any part of it. I'd done nothing. Nothing! They brought it here. They were why those two lights had come. Not for me!
I turned around and galloped as the two lights approached, dragging along with it a curtain of black. Meanwhile, the soldiers continued arguing.
"Let's just head back, Nubius. All in favor of getting back to camp say ave."
"Ave."
"Ave."
"Yeah, what they said."
The lights were right behind them now. The officer just nodded. "Good. That's a majority, Nubius. Now come, we've much to-..."
I averted my gaze as they vanished in the enveloping dark. Then I looked forward and caught my breath, unable to believe what I was seeing. The entire chamber... it was flashing, changing like a slideshow. Each frame painted the same chamber, but each time it was different -- yet all were building on the same thing. As I galloped, the concrete and the machinery were cleaned and repaired, bit by bit. The damaged floor steadily lost its cracks; the debris vanished, stone by stone. In each frame, the two lights were there, never in the same spot. It's dark form stood by the machines, next to the rocks, and where it went things were fixed. The sounds of hammering and groaning metal and cracking stone filled the air. The ground was littered with pieces of Legion armor that appeared and disappeared, their steel added used for the restoration of the machinery.
I was running madly for the nearest tunnel, but each flash hampered me. One second there was nothing there. Then, flash! A platform mounted with a robot arm appeared. I circled around it. Flash! A fresh set of tracks popped onto the floor. I just barely managed to keep myself from tripping. I regained my balance, looked to my destination, and galloped for dear life!
Flash! A dark form dotted by two red lights stood in my way.
I gasped and broke my momentum, skidding, and turned to gallop elsewhere. But my hooves twisted into each other, and I careened into the air and crashed with a painful thud. Pain exploded in my ribs, and I curled up and whimpered. "Ouch."
I was fighting panic, trying to breathe, when a shapeless form of darkness came over and loomed over me. Trembling, I glanced up, and saw two red lights glaring down at me.
"Ah," a voice said -- that raspy, low voice I'd heard in my dream. "The apparition manifests. And in a path I travel often no less... interesting."
I did what anyone would do. I screamed and ran off.
***Roama Victrix***
In those pitch-black conditions, with my injured body and panicking insides, I wasn't even able to go two feet before the thing grabbed me and wrapped what eerily felt like hooves around my throat. I struggled, wriggling wildly.
"Cease your struggle," the voice ordered. "You would be wise to not desire the fate of those who came before you, apparition. Physical form you have, but to the ethereal plane I'll return you if you if you test my patience. Cooperate, and you may go on as you have."
I was trembling in its the dark grip, at a loss for words. Then I swallowed and nodded. "Okay," I squeaked out.
Immediately the thing released my throat and turned me around, looking me right in the eyes. I managed to return the gaze for a few seconds before looking away. "So... it is you, indeed," it said slowly, looking me over. One of its shadowed appendages grabbed my cheek and forced me to face it. "Real you are. I sense living thoughts in those eyes... too sporadic and quick for distant recollections. You... you're a real pony," it concluded, and gave a little snicker. "And here I'd thought another forlorn soul had grown tired of endless slumber."
My throat was dry. This thing hadn't killed me yet... and it was talking to me. Surely that meant something, right? "Wh-what are you?" I stammered.
The red lights, which I was beginning to realize were its eyes, bored into me. For a moment, a pregnant silence filled the void. "What am I? Hm. A simple answer for a simple question; I am a collection of atoms. Does that satisfy you?" it questioned.
It didn't feel like a threat, but the tone was that of someone insulted. I shook my head quickly. "N-no..."
"Then perhaps you'd like to ask another question?" it suggested. "One that pertains to my... identity, perhaps?"
"Who are you?" I corrected.
"Ah, better. But a trespasser has no right to make queries of the land owner. Yet I am a fair one, and will answer if you tell me who you are -- you, who would appear to me in the darkest of dark places, and seem to possess no knowledge of such an event's gravity."
I held back. Whoever this thing... this guy... was, I couldn't trust him. He'd appeared in my dreams and now he was here, straight out of the air. My best bet was maybe he was a unicorn. I settled on unicorn. I didn't want to imagine what else he may have been to have such strange, magical things going on around him.
Still... I was lost. I didn't know where anything was. As terrifying as the prospect was, I needed his help to get out of here. I... I needed to talk to him, interact with him... and hope for the best. Now more than ever, I needed to get over myself to do what I needed to do.
My hesitation went on for a few more moments. He didn't rush me. As I thought up what to say, a pondering, curious clicking emanated from within his throat. He was waiting.
"I... well, I'm Myst," I said plainly, swallowing. "And I'm... I'm a nobody. A nomad. Part-time hunter, part-time... a-anything, really. I just do what I need to survive. R-really, there's not much else to say." My body was trembling, my jaw sore as he kept up his grip on my cheeks. I risked sitting down, and thankfully he didn't seem to mind. If he was going to interrogate me, at least I could have a seat.
"Hmm. So you say..." he drawled. His eyes bore into me for a long, long moment. Then he snorted. "That is what you think of yourself, anyway. It is what you know, and I cannot ask for more than that. Fine then. You may call me Predator. A meaningless label, really -- one that would fit you more than me, so it would seem. I don't hunt for prey; I've no need to. But if that is what I am known as by people, then so be it. Not like it matters. Names as we give to ourselves or are given to us are false identities."
"Erm... okay?"
"Now, Myst. Why are you down here?" he questioned. "Little tolerance do I have for uninvited travellers in the dark places of the world. But you... intrigue me. I would have my curiosity satisfied before concluding your fate." He released my jaw and turned around, and I momentarily lost sight of his glowing eyes. I massaged my cheeks as he faced me again. He sat down in the darkness. "Tell me everything; leave no detail out, attempt no deception. I shall have a full account of things, you understand? Now, out with it."
I gulped and looked around nervously. The light from the veins were dim again, the silhouettes of the machinery and platforms familiar; I was now in the chamber as it was when I first came to it, though what all those images I'd seen were, I wasn't sure. I spotted arch-shaped blotches of total black near the base of the chamber -- the tunnels, though which one the others had gone down, I couldn't tell any more. I'd spun and turned so much I'd gotten myself lost. Now I was trapped... with this guy, this... Predator.
"If I do, will you help me?" I asked. "I just want to get out of here," I said honestly.
His throat emanated that curious sound again, like a wooden stick repeatedly striking a concrete wall. His expressionless eyes stared at me, studying me. Then he hummed out, "We'll see."
It's more progress than I'd make if I just sit here, I thought. Then I let loose a heavy sigh. "I guess I'll start from when I met a certain crimson pegasus not too long ago..."
He leaned forward. His two perfectly round, expressionless eyes seemed to brighten with interest. "Do proceed," he encouraged, sounding intrigued. I thought maybe the mentioning of a pegasus was what captured his attention so; seeing Goldwreath as one was certainly one of the things that'd caught my eye.
It was strange telling him everything. Maybe it was because he was a complete stranger, someone with no opinion or uneasy history with me, but I found myself spilling everything out. As in... everything. Every emotion, every thought, every messy train of angsty thought that I recalled from the days past. He was a good listener. No interruptions. I'd never liked the dark, and still don't, but there was something oddly reassuring and -- dare I say it? -- comforting about his presence. It was so subtle, almost as if the air around me was changing temperature ever so slowly until it was cool and relaxing. Not stuffy, not hot. I found I didn't fear expressing myself to him now. And as I talked, I felt more and more certain that some sort of connection was being established between us. An understanding of some sort... but I wasn't sure what.
"And... now I'm here, talking to you," I finished. I stifled a laugh and looked away, embarrassed. "It's odd how much better I feel now. Not good like happy good, as Goldwreath had made me feel, but... calm."
"It could be any number of things," Predator replied. "Perhaps it is the darkness. In its embrace, we realize how little so many things matter, and how much we hinder those that do. Darkness is unbiased; it accepts all in its realm. All find respite and comfort in the knowledge that they cannot be harmed when they cannot be seen."
Now, I wasn't Goldwreath; I didn't have as much appreciation for that kind of philosophical rhetoric. But I did appreciate the idea behind it. Like I said, I never liked the dark. But thinking back on all my previous, youthful exploits... it was always the dark that'd saved me. Without knowing it, I'd relied on the dark to keep me safe and help me hunt and observe and listen. Maybe... maybe it was time I stopped fearing it? I could achieve so much more with an open respect and appreciation for things...
Predator stared at me, as if reading my thoughts. That strange linking sensation I had to him strengthened, and a jolt of positive emotion ran through me. It was as if my train of thought was receiving approval from more than just my own head.
The stare went on for who knows how long. Tiny parts of my head were pressing me into asking him for his help now; every second, Goldwreath and the others were getting away. I'd never be able to catch up with them and take up Goldwreath's offer if I delayed. But the rest of me was calm. Don't rush it, I thought to myself. I had the certainty that so long as they were down here, in these tunnels, I would find them. The shadows would help me.
Finally, Predator stood. "You seem like an agreeable sort," he said. "Moreso than how I perceived you earlier, at least. Very well, then. I will guide you to your friends -- but perhaps with a little... detour."
"What do you mean?"
He looked off down a tunnel, which was, in the darkness, nothing more than an arch-shaped blotch of pitch black. "A simple matter, really. There are some things I would like to show you before you surface to your world of... discordance." He spat the word with disgust. He growled quietly, long and low, before facing me again. "There are things I believe you could understand that may assist you with future endeavors. And perhaps you will reach a greater understanding of yourself in the process."
Something clicked inside of me. I can't explain it. The words 'understanding of myself' had me right up on my hooves, eager. It seemed stupid, what I was doing: talking with a stranger, trusting him and listening to him so soon after we met... and no doubt to most people he would've seemed frightening. But in his presence, I felt understood, not just tolerated. It was... gratifying. I hate to say it, but in comparison to his statements the reassurances and kind words of everyone I'd met and known since then felt hollow and superficial. Predator's few words and strange aura had me feeling an odd sense of understanding. Just being with him seemed to heighten my senses, and my mind felt as though a pit were being dug into it that reached the very depths of my soul... if that makes sense.
"I... I would like to understand myself some more," I admitted. "Long years of wandering and observing haven't really told me much about myself, other than I don't seem to have what it takes to be just like other regular people. Goldwreath said I'm different, not disadvantaged... but it's kind of hard to believe."
"Your friend is wise, soupy collection of coalescing thoughts and aspects as he is. But what I would like to show you is something at your core, Myst, not a trivial revelation regarding temporary things. I would have you see something integral to who and what you are. Know it, and never again will you need to doubt the nature of your being."
I smiled, nodding vigorously. "I... I would be honored."
"Good. Now, do follow me. What lies ahead will be much for you to process... perhaps it will leave you confused." As he said it, he looked me over, as if only now pondering how capable I would be of understanding what he wanted to show me. His doubt rubbed off on me, and mine on him. The link between us felt muddled with uncertainty.
Then he met my eyes again, and his glowing eyes brightened. "But risk would have itself taken, and so we will try," he said, turning and moving on down the tunnel. I followed. Things hadn't gotten any brighter, but somehow I had no trouble seeing in the dark.
***Roama Victrix***
Five minutes down the tunnel and the chamber vanished. Part of me panicked, asking the rational questions I'd sidelined in the face of Predator's odd aura. What if you're heading into trouble? What if you're mistaken for trusting him? What if there's nothing special about him at all, and that you're just gullible? I doubted. So much so that hooves fidgeted and twitched even as I trotted.
Stop that, I told myself. Some of me doubted, sure, but other parts of me knew it was alright. They knew I would be fine. I would be with the others again. I needed this detour; a primal urge roared within me, crying out for this trip as if it were a long-neglected necessity. In obliging it, I would put myself at peace. The uncertainty of years of wandering would slowly melt away...
Predator led me further and further down the empty tunnel. From behind, far enough from me that I could easily compare his dark form to the shadows, he seemed like a formless cloud of utter black -- a constantly morphing mass that was difficult to look at. If I held my gaze steady for a bit, his form seemed to coalesce into something vaguely equine-shaped, something dancing with wispy tendrils of smoke -- and wow, what a big equine he must've been! He must've been even bigger than Goldwreath. Yet, if I glanced so much as an inch elsewhere his form scattered, once again becoming indistinguishable from the abyssal dark that surrounded us. My eyes were having trouble processing something so nonsensical, so impossible. And yet I kept trying. Normally I'd have given up trying to understand something I couldn't observe, seeing as observation was all I had most of the time. But he kept my attention.
Before long he spoke up, "You're trying to figure out what I look like, aren't you? You couldn't be more obvious."
I blushed. "You keep changing. It's hard to see what you're like. I'm curious," I admitted.
"Your being down here was evidence enough. Yet no amount of curiosity will peel away my shroud. Observe all you want, but success will not grace you. Yet."
I frowned. "So even you don't like me staring. Figures..."
"You misunderstand, as your kind always does," he said. "But I know. Staring is part of your nature, or at least the nature you've come to believe to be synonymous to 'personality'. I don't seek solace from your habits, nor am I trying evoke your disappointment. But you are of the world above -- your senses, your perceptions, even your thoughts, are all influenced by its norms and constraints, and that is why will not see me. I am shaped by a different set of standards, veiled by a curtain of unfamiliarity; my whole being, so different from yours. We are apart in so many ways. But I have a body and you have a body, and for your kind, on this plane, that is enough. Perhaps not enough to understand me straight away... but enough for you to try and perhaps succeed."
I'd gotten lots of practice at dealing with insults thinly veiled by big words and that sort of stuff. I'd dealt with Imperius tons of times. His praetorians, too. But this was different. Oh sure, some words and ideas were the same -- 'your kind'; 'you're different from me' -- but coming from Predator, none of it felt like an insult. He stated them matter-of-factly. They were just realities, and he would treat them as such.
I kept my silence. Insult or no, that stuff he said had left me wondering... and confused. Was this the warmup for his 'lessons'? He'd said the stuff he'd show me would be boggling, maybe even leave me clueless, but if I had no idea what to make of a simple bit of speech, I couldn't have much hope for the actual material.
After a while the silence became unbearable -- and coming from an antisocial mare, that means something. I liked noise. Really. But only when it was background ambiance, not directed at me.
I spoke up, and my voice resonated through the depths, "You know, I've... never been down here before. In the Roaman underground, I mean. What is it, exactly?"
"So that's how you want to start yourself off? Talking history, and of such a place as this? Fine then," he murmured. Clearly the words weren't meant to be heard. To anyone else, they would've just been rhythmic humming. But my ears caught onto them.
Aside from that, I didn't expect an actual response, but Predator indulged me anyway.
"Well... the answer aligns itself with simplicity," he said. "The Roaman underground is... everything beneath the Roaman empire. Literally. The wartime government? They had claims on every natural resource underneath the dirt that their nation encompassed. This claim was crucial. You know of the Great War, do you not? Tales of its origins and causes were spoken to you?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Well then, you know how much coal the empire had, and how desperately the Equestrians wanted it. Before the war, the Imperial coal reserves were a means of leverage over Equestria, and during the war, it powered Roaman industries. These tunnels you see here -- the great underground stations, the long rail networks, the hubs? -- all these were originally built to effectively extract the seemingly endless supply of coal Roam had at her disposal. Of course, such a massive and thorough subterranean system of transportation soon found use in the Roaman military. The very largest of the tunnels, the first tunnels, now devoid of coal deposits, were converted into these tracks you see now. But they were always attached to the countless smaller tunnels branching out from them: the ones connected to more isolated deposits. You may not see them, but laying at your hooves and along the walls and ceiling are many tiny doorways to these other tunnels. Back when it was in use, the underground's military and industrial halves were so intertwined, so inseparable, each day was literally divided between them. Of course the military got free reign whenever there was an emergency, but usage of these tunnels was equal otherwise. Some say that half of the Roaman population was employed by the coal industry alone, and I don't disagree.
"But these days, the underground is used by no one," he continued. "Not officially, anyway. Bands of wastelanders, usually, and even then only for a day or two. No one intrudes in the empire's earthly bones without my knowing... and my intervention." He glanced back at me. "You, Myst, were an intruder, and that is why I sought you. I knew of your friends, too, but left them be because I knew they were on their way out. You were trapped, unsure of which way to go. All the more reason for me to approach you."
"Right..." I muttered. "And, uh... thanks for finding me, I guess," I added uncertainly. For sure, I'd have been totally lost underground if not for him. But his words left me with a few disturbing questions. He 'intervened' on intruders? How did that work? Did he see them in their dreams, like he had with me? And again, how did that work? I shouldn't have thought so hard on it all -- the world was littered with magic, and the guy obviously had access to some of it. But somehow I felt that something deeper was at wok than a bunch of spells or glyphs. And also, looking at Predator, a niggling little suspicion was working its way around my head. Something about him, what he was...
Another thing struck me, though, that I felt didn't quite make sense -- of course it all didn't quite make sense, but this one thought challenged what I thought I already knew. "You said the underground isn't officially used by anyone, right? How about the Legion? Those soldiers you... erm, attacked... they seemed to imply otherwise."
He stopped abruptly, then looked back at me. His motionless eyes seemed somehow confused. "Soldiers?" he asked. "What soldiers?"
I was at a loss for words. It was him in that 'vision' of mine, right? "Those... those Legionaries? The eight of them?" His red eyes stared on, his voice silent. His confusion was spilling over from his own mind and flooding our little empathic link. Somehow I felt like I'd been wrong to assume that it was Predator I'd seen, and that even if it were him, that he'd remember such a specific group. If he 'intervened' on intruders as often as he said, he surely wouldn't bother to remember the details of every single group.
"Hmm. Legionaries... eight of them..." He mused for a long while. "But there were none here... oh." He looked up, his eyes flashing with understanding. "Oh, I see! That encounter of mine a few months ago." He looked around at the tunnel, as if inspecting it. "It seems you've gotten a glimpse at my past exploits. How... convenient. That barely ever happens to anyone down here."
I let out a little sigh of relief, glad that it was Predator I'd seen. Er, but not glad for seeing that it was him who killed a bunch of soldiers, of course! No, that was terrible and all, and seeing him as a homicidal murderer definitely didn't improve my murky opinion of the guy. But if I had to put up with the idea that there were more Predator-like guys down there...
"But it does happen?" I asked, and he nodded. "What is 'it'? Was it a vision, or... or what?"
"A vision would be the closest thing, yes," he answered. He waved a hoof at the tunnel. "During the war, the Roaman underground was also where all the secretive things took place. Some of it ethically questionable, some of it morally sound, but all of it dangerous. Experimental projects. Unstable energies. Those sorts of things. They had their own level and tunnel systems and everything, all in an attempt to keep what they did inside."
He snickered. "Ah, but such things can rarely be kept contained. The precautions failed. And as you most likely know, balefire radiation has magical attributes of its own. The underground couldn't be sealed off in time. Not everywhere. And so, when radiation leaked in -- interacting with aerial agents that were on their own harmless, contaminating and fusing with experimental substances and waste -- things got very volatile very quickly. Walking around here was like trudging through a magical maelstrom. Countless phenomena started cropping up, visions the least troublesome of them. I don't bother trying to learn how the phenomena still occur, though. My best guess would be that residual energies cling to the air in some places, moving along with the drafts, regaining some of their past potency. But I don't speculate further."
His eyes flared with red light. He shifted, turning to face me. "Be grateful for the passage of time, Myst. It has allowed your very presence here. The people sealed off here before? Chance did not favor them. Suffering visited them in bouts without mercy, and their bones morphed to dust under the ceaseless assault of deathly agents. Quite painful. Quite tragic. But such is the result of war."
I swallowed. Suddenly that stallion's bewilderment at the lack of bodies made sense. All the dust I'd seen... it's not that there weren't ever any bodies here. They had all dissolved long ago. I didn't want to visualize how many skeletons we'd have encountered otherwise, nor did I want to imagine what it would have been like down here back then. Suffering from radiation poisoning, unable to escape... ragtag groups like the one Goldwreath was leading must've been a lot more common... a lot more desperate, too. Lost. Dying. Suddenly my own situation didn't seem so terrible.
But at least I now knew what Predator was. Well, sort of. My suspicions were all pointing towards the same conclusion. He spoke of the aftermath of the war as if he were actually there -- perhaps unconsciously, since his kind tended to do that, being old enough to have actually experienced it all. He was obviously what my tribe would have called a 'nekró átomo' -- literally 'dead person'. The title for Predator's kind varied from culture to culture. To the Imperial-speaking Roamans, he would've been called a 'mortuus'. But most people would've just called him a ghoul. Ghouls were unnaturally long-lived, their bodies changed by exposure to radiation and other ghastly things. But I didn't fear them. Some of the kinder people in my tribe had been ghouls, and ghoul merchants were the fairest I'd ever countered in the wasteland. It wouldn't have been right to avoid them just because of their looks. They were people, same as anyone else. Same as me.
Predator looked down the length of the tunnel and snorted. "All of that was long ago, of course. The underground has long since been broken into in countless locations. The heavy doors that shielded this place from the apocalypse have been blasted open, corroded, tunneled under, and yanked away. The decades-long isolation of the darkest part of the Roaman empire was shattered, and by then the old mysteries -- the projects, the prototype technologies -- faded into oblivion, their power supply cut and the corrosive air eating them away. Change labored to expose this place to the world, and dilution has rendered the underground's hazards inert. Surviving down here became a... possibility. In some places it's common. The Legionaries you told me about, if my own memory recalls right, mentioned something about 'domesticated tunnels'? They have refurbished the old Augustus Line to serve their needs. But that's about it. the Legion's arrogance truly knows no bounds if they believe they can tame the entirety of this place. All who dwell down here live on the goodwill of the tunnels."
I took a single step back. "You're... talking about this place as if it has personality," I said warily. "I'm, uh... not sure what to make of that."
He shrugged. "Most people would find it ridiculous, yes. As they would a large number of things. I've seen people scoff at forgiving, laugh at faith, insult bravery, and diminish sacrifice. Admirable things, all those, in the right doses. But it's strange that civilizations built upon such values would hold prejudice against them."
"So why do you do it?" I asked, and clarified, "Talk to the tunnels as if they're alive, I mean. Those things you mentioned people being prejudiced over -- those I could understand being ridiculous. But that? It's... kinda creepy."
"Oh, I suppose you could say that they are alive... in a sense. Tell me, do you believe in ghosts?"
I froze. "Ghosts? Like... spirits of the dead?" I looked around crazily, turning in place. Suddenly I felt a whole lot less comfortable. "Are there any down here?"
"I'll take that as a yes," he responded. "And yes, there are some down here. Really, they are everywhere. But spirits of the dead? Not quite, not quite."
"You... you've taken me into a haunted tunnel?!" I whirled on him, feeling crazed and paranoid. The temperature had mysteriously dropped low enough for me to see my breath. "W-why? Why would you do that? I've been scared of ghosts my whole life!"
Back when I was a filly, wandering around with that tribe, I'd been under the care of superstitious foster parents. They'd made it clear to me that all things harbored spirits, and whether or not those spirits were good or evil was difficult to tell. Worse was that the majority of the tribe held the same beliefs. Every night we'd gather at a campfire and spend time just to tell ghost stories. We'd pray to the stars to watch us, to keep the evil things away. I hated every moment of it all.
No. Contrary to what Predator took out of my reaction, I didn't believe in ghosts. Not really. At least... I didn't want to. But after years of noises in the wind, of presences that kept me awake entire nights, of quiet footsteps that followed me in my lonely wanderings... after countless nightmares that woke me up to chilly air where no wind could go, and after so many instances of seeing shadows that disappeared only in the sunlight... I'd learned to fear the chance that they were real.
"A fear misplaced, then," he said. "There's a thing you'll need to learn from me that contradicts your current notions of ghosts. Ghosts aren't to be feared. A common mistake. They're to be understood -- only then will we penetrate the veils of ignorance that so heavily lay themselves on people's minds."
'Not to be feared,' he said. 'A common mistake,' he said. Well, he could say whatever he wanted, but I was gasping and having a panic attack. My heart raced. The tunnel seemed so much wider now, the walls farther off -- I felt alone. An island of life in the middle of a dead, dark ocean. Fog crawled forward from the dark, covering the floor in a subtle layer of mist. In my mind, I heard whispering, laughing, screaming -- all of them distant, like echoes from deeper in the underground. Shadowy shapes appeared and disappeared all around me, or maybe it was just my imagination. I sat down and shut my eyes, determined to not open them for anything.
"Hmm." Predator mumbled. "Clearly you don't take me seriously. But you will, in time. Still, I can try to make your belief start now. How? Well, let's see..."
He moved around. I followed him with my ears, trying to focus only on him. He was the only thing I was hearing that didn't make my bones want to crawl out of my skin.
"Ah, yes. You rely on observation to reach conclusions. Perhaps a more... perceptible experience is in order. Lectures aren't for you, it seems. Now Myst, come here, and put your ears against the wall."
I didn't want to. Oh, I really didn't want to. But what choice did I have? I stood. I tried to keep my trembling to a minimum as I turned in place and inched forward. Cold gusts blew at me, carrying whispers and laughter that echoed in my ears. The world seemed to be quaking gently, like I was standing on a rocking platform. The chilly fog around my hooves seemed to be rising up, prodding me with wispy tendrils. I whimpered, but Predator took one of my hooves and led me along.
"Good, good..." His tone was amused. Maybe he was smiling at how silly I looked, skidding along the cold floor as my hooves refused to speed me along. "I understand this is all very strange to you. It would be to anyone, I think. Trotting underground with a stranger, signing up for some set of lessons you know nothing about. But you do feel something, don't you? A kind of longing? Like a gravitation towards these strange things, an urge to listen to my odd words?"
I swallowed as he dragged me along, hearing the noises in my ears. "Yes," I admitted simply. I didn't want to say much. The thought came to me that I was in a very volatile situation, and even the tiniest disturbance on my part could make things go wrong in any number of ways.
"And you find this even stranger," he continued, "because you've kept to yourself most of your life, yes? You wonder how you could avoid so many people, but so quickly open up to me. A stranger. Your mind asks questions. Your instincts tell you to be careful. You think you're making a mistake. Even now, as you always have, you doubt yourself. And yet you feel an overriding desire to go on with this detour."
I didn't know how he knew so much about me. I didn't want to ask. Maybe it was just really obvious, what with the way I'd always behaved. But I was wondering what his point was. "You already know the answers to those. Why keep asking?"
"Just making sure," he said. "You'd be surprised how fickle even the most resolute of wills can become in the presence of the mysterious. Steel is hard when things are cool, but soft when the temperature rises. Courage is no different, really. Ah, and here's a good spot."
Finally he let go, and with my hoof I felt in front of me. Cold stone greeted my senses.
"Just listen to it," he encouraged. "You'll be fine."
I was trembling uncontrollably, my body shaking from the cold and the fear. Carefully, I tilted my head, and planted my ears against the rock.
For a terrible moment, there was only more noise -- louder, more intense noise. The voices of the phantoms sounded straight into my ears, and I swear I could almost feel their cold breath on my skin. I wanted to yank myself away and run. I wanted to blindly stumble until I felt Predator in my hooves, and then wrap my hooves around him and beg him to make it all go away. I could feel my heart racing, burning within me with the deepest of dreads. My mind felt like it was going to split itself apart.
Then all the noise faded into the background. The quaking receded into tiny vibrations tingling at my hooves and at my cheek. Then they both faded entirely. All around me, the world seemed to fall away, like a wave of anxiety fading after a relieving assurance. A serene lightness befell my entire being. Seemingly random emotions and thoughts ran through my mind, spiraling together in a senseless mix. But all seemed good.
Then my senses perceived a simple rhythm, like drums beating softly and monotonously in an empty room: Thump-thump... Thump-thump... Thump thump.
It wasn't a loud noise. Not even scary. It felt like I was listening to my own heartbeat.
"Is... is that my heart I'm hearing?" I asked quietly.
"No. Not your heart. But it is the sound of life. The sound of creation."
"What?"
I dared to open an eye, squinting with it as I gazed around, looking for him. His two red eyes stuck out of the black, peering over the area. I felt forces rocking me back and forth, like waves of water pushing against my chest, coming in pulses that coincided with the gentle but inexorable thumping. It was rhythmic and gentle. Its monotony seemed so unbreakable, so peaceful. I calmed down. I pulled myself from the wall.
"I... I only see darkness," I said quietly.
"Yes, Myst. You only see darkness," he replied. He sounded... happy? "Look before you, and see... darkness. It's glorious."
I took a step forward. It felt like a dream. There was no noise of my hoof on the floor. I didn't even feel like I was stepping on stone so much as just... like, gravitating in a direction. Things felt off. Then I realized I wasn't even breathing. I lifted my hooves up and placed them against the light of Predator's eyes. Nothing. I had no body to speak of.
I gasped, but it felt superficial, unnecessary and of no consequence. "What is this?"
Predator looked right at me. "You wondered what ghosts are, and I said I'd show you. Well, here is your answer."
I looked around. "Darkness?" I asked.
"Hmm. Well, to restrict what I'm about to say to the scope of ghosts would be to limit something profound. What you see before you are ghosts... and everything else, as well. Let me explain... but first, Myst, tell me: do you believe in religions? Or more specifically, in their creation stories?"
I grimaced -- well, felt myself grimace; I couldn't say for sure in that place. Then I shook my head. Matters of faith and religion weren't something I liked to talk about. You can thank my 'parents' for that. "No. I never had good reason to... but lots of reasons not to."
He nodded. "All well and the same. It's not like those beliefs would vanish because of your disbelief. No, they're sustained enough by others... in any case, your lack of faith leaves you open to what I'm about to say."
A ball of dark energy rippled in front of me, distinguishable from its surroundings only because of the lighter shades that scintillated around it. It hovered close to Predator's eyes, and then he approached me. I stared into the odd rippling ball, and had the strangest of all sensations. There's no single way to describe it. I was being pulled to it, but also pushed from it. It radiated heat, but also cold. I felt alive near it, but also so sluggish, so... dead. The thing thrummed with an overwhelming but gentle power that matched the rhythm and pulse of this weird place... maybe it was even the source of it.
"You should keep an open mind if you are to comprehend what I am about to tell you, for my upcoming words are the only thing you'll be able to believe no matter your circumstances," he said, looking down into the ball. I found myself staring into it too, inexplicably focused on it and all he had to say. My entire being felt attracted to it like metal to a magnet.
"See, there are only three things that exist, Myst. Lots of theories and stories and other such things will tell you otherwise, but I've come to these conclusions through my own... sources. These three things, they are the bedrock of creation without which nothing could be. And they are Matter, Time, and Energy. Their endless array of simple but innumerable interactions makes possible every concept and object. They dance with each other, and they will continue to do so for all of eternity. They are the underpinnings of creation, the three true and insurmountable Fundamentals."
The ball trembled, and suddenly it was a rock -- a plain, floating rock. "All the things you see and don't see, the intangible and tangible... even the physical and metaphysical? All these are just the product of the interaction between Matter and Energy, and made possible by Time. Thought and reason are so far along these sequences they would seem to transcend what is naturally possible. From this ancient mystery came the question, 'How did life begin?' And while living beings like to think of themselves as apart from the rest of creation, privileged and uniquely important, the truth is that we are simply a concoction of different proportions. We're more alike to everything else than we'd like to believe. You and this rock, Myst? The only difference between you two are your compositions and patterns. But if I were to grind you both down to the very tiniest particles, reduce you both to the simplest energies, you'd be indistinguishable. We're all just pixels on an image, and only a fleeting difference in color keeps us apart.
"Ah, and pixels..." He took a deep breath. "You know what they are, don't you?"
I nodded. "Some people are surprised I know so much about stuff that doesn't matter to survival... but that's what happens when you spend most of your time alone. You learn stuff... wanted or otherwise."
"Good. Because pixels, well... of all the things creation's spawn have thought of, nothing comes closer to the Fundamentals than the humble pixel. These orbs you see are essentially just that. Pixels. Nothing more than a blank canvas upon which color can be applied. And yet look at what they've allowed into existence: a reality so complex and varied it can even contradict itself. Galaxies bound by gravity, wars fought over principles of greed and fear, identities formed out of a desire to form ourselves... every bit of it, literally, is made by these things, these... orbs of possibility. It is these that start the very first reactions that make life possible. It is these that are the cells of cells, the atoms of atoms. It is these that you will see if you could travel backwards to before the birth of the universe. Masses of peaceful primordial pixels just waiting to be given an image to form... in a sense, you could say that they, the manifestations of the interactions of the Fundamentals, are the true creators. They very well could have formed themselves into images of gods, and being irreducible and indestructible, they have thrived in their endeavors. All of reality bends to their will, and all it would take for them to wipe out all our consciousness, all our history and struggles and thoughts, if they so chose to do, would be to change color."
At that point I was straining myself to not cry out in protest. He did tell me to keep an open mind, and I really, really was. But all that just sounded like nonsense to my mind. I mean, him being a ghoul, I could understand his understanding of the war. But this? I didn't know much about science, but I'm pretty sure the universe was at least several thousand years old.
He stared at me, maybe knowing my doubt, and chuckled. The pitch-black dark that'd enveloped us melted away like a receding wave, revealing a... oh. Oh wow, how to describe it? What comes close? Well... try putting yourself in a cube-shaped room. There's nothing inside; no embellishments or furniture. Now make every side of that cube a mirror -- no, innumerable mirrors, like each mirror wall were made of millions of tinier mirrors, each reflecting on the others and creating a truly infinite image. Wherever you look, however you look at it... all you'll see is a deep pattern of tiny cubes. Tiny, scintillating cubes of inexorable potential, all thrumming and pulsing with their own sheer power. And the longer you stare, the more certain you become that you don't even fully occupy a single one of them. In their limitlessness, you are nothing.
Instantly all my doubt and disbelief vanished. Inside me, my soul was screaming, 'This is it! I'm home. This is where I belong. This is what I am.' And there could be no denying it. Absolutely no denying it. This was the answer to... to everything. To life. To evil. To good... this was the final ultimatum.
Only Predator broke the otherwise perfectly symmetrical image. "In a way, though, we're all gods. We're all omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent... or at least we could be, had we not amnesia. For if we are all nothing but masses of these fundamental particles, then all it would take to put ourselves at true and eternal peace with existence would be to remember what we are. The universe you know of, Myst, it is... unique. In a bad way. The realities that came before were all whole. Beautiful and perfect... in their own way. All things were as they should have been, not like in this one. I have given you a blessing so few receive: the knowledge of your own being. But the others are not so lucky. They have taken upon forms that they can't even control. They become aspects of different things, merging with one another, creating hybrids -- and in so doing, they forget their true nature. We are the pixels of Dark; it is our rightful place in the great pantheon of concepts and properties. Thus we can say 'we are Dark.' But you, Myst, and your fellow hybrids? What can you say you are? Even with this new knowledge, your best answer would be 'we are pixels'. Yes, but of what? What were you before you lost your memory? What were you before you became the chemical substances that would give you skin, and hair, and organs? You don't know, and because you don't know, you and all your kind are jagged patterns in the symmetry of creation. And until we sort you all out, all of existence is at a standstill."
"How did this happen?" we asked. The pixels that made up the being Myst were unified in this one resolve, having been uplifted by this revelation: they wanted to heal this sickness, and make sure it would never happen again. "What disobedient collective caused this catastrophe?"
"Ah, haha. That question," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Well... blaming Chaos would be easy, and many have done so. But we don't think the true blame lies with it. Odd times they are indeed when you can't even attribute circumstance to the force of total randomness and chance. After all, what is more chaotic than Chaos? Is there such a thing? No. Certainly not. In this troubled reality, Chaos is actually one of the few abstracts that functions as it had before. The same can't be said of Order."
He shook his head and sighed, his breath echoing endlessly down the infinite cubicles of pixels. "In truth, we don't know what has caused this distorted reality. Usually all things are balanced. There are primal, ancient laws that restrict any form of Discordance... and yet it has realized itself. Countless times now we have asked ourselves if this is not merely another version of existence, and, if so, when things might revert back to their natural state. That is our best hope -- our only hope. Otherwise, we may be forced to accept that the great symmetry, the very dance of the Fundamentals, the forefathers of creation... is flawed. And that we, their children, are doomed to repeat a broken pattern."
"That's... that's all that can be done?" we asked incredulously. "Just wait and hope that this is how things are supposed to be? That's... that's stupid!"
"And yet it's what your worldly manifestation has done all its life," he countered. "You are new in your realization of the Fundamental plane, and of the three Fundamentals, and of the architecture of your existence. I wouldn't expect you to understand what truly can or can't be done. Not just yet. But we don't mean to say nothing can be done... no, not at all."
"Well, then what are you trying to say?" we questioned.
Predator's dark body and glowing eyes melted into pixels and melded seamlessly into the scene. As one, the entire collective of Dark said, "It is impossible to combat Discordance on this Fundamental plane. Somehow they have cut themselves off from the underlying fabric of existence. We cannot fight them here. For now, we can do only one thing. We must remain Dark. It is what we are. The only way to combat them is to maintain ourselves. But you, child of Discordance, who we hope have been turned away from it... you can do more. Until we find another like you, you must do more. You must deconstruct it, down to its last aspects and pixels. But it is only when you learn to use your new knowledge that you can even begin to understand how to fight this counterproductive abstract. And the only way to do that? Live. Involve yourself in mortal life... and all it brings with it. Your planet, in your star system, in your galaxy... it is a very tiny place, beset even by the issues of the slightly more enlightened beings you've taken to calling Stars. Even now they inject themselves into your world in a great number of ways. Did you not feel them? An alien presence, sometimes cold, sometimes warm, but always distant? Did you not look upon a familiar face, or a clear sky, and feel it was... different?"
The endless corridors of cubes trembled, a deep groaning sound echoing into the void. "We weep for them. They are closer to remembering who they are than any other form of life, for they are of purer essence -- of narrower but sharper being -- than even the most enlightened mortal. They can feel a greatness upon them, an all-encompassing sensation of meaning and purpose. They sense their home is all around... and yet all their closeness to the Fundament does is drive them insane. It makes them restless, forever seeking out what is so blatantly in front of them as though it were a shore on a distant horizon. Ah... what we would give to offer them that last nudge, that little push. Perhaps the state of things would be better... but it is not our place to do so, not our place to judge. We are not Foresight. We cannot predict the outcome of such an intervention. We may invoke more Discordance than we would fix."
A silence fell upon us, so absolute we may as well have gone deaf. The collective of Dark let loose a unified sigh. "Still... capricious Fortune seems to have blessed us. Your insignificant hunk of rock is the perfect experiment. It has successfully integrated a vast array of problematic variables without reducing itself to useless rubble. And it is because of this that we feel that, if your world's problems could be solved... then therein would be the key to rectifying the universe as a whole. It is an unsure theory, but it is the best we can put forward at this moment of time."
We were unsatisfied with that answer. We had hoped Dark would be more immediately helpful, more full of reassurance. But we understood what it was saying... we had existed in that universe, the broken realm of Discordance. We remembered how we were hated, looked down upon... we remembered emotions of rejection, and... inadequacy. Worthlessness. Yes, we knew just how terrible it was. And because of that, we could survive in it.
The collective mass of Dark began to... well, darken. "Well, there is one more thing that we can do," they said. "We have brought you here. Alone, you wouldn't know how to return. So we must send you back, and we will accompany you for as long as we can down the tunnels. Brace yourself, for the tranquility of this plane will contrast sharply with the pain of that world. It will be most disorienting for you."
The blackness enveloped us once more, and we were thrust down an abyss that penetrated all walls of logic and reason. We felt ourselves passing through dimensions of heat and cold, places of pain and joy. It was as if we were touring through all the sensations one could possibly feel. But before we knew it... before I knew it, I was back in Roam again, lying facedown on the cold stone.
***Roama Victrix***
The first thing I noticed: lightbulbs. Lots and lots of blinding lightbulbs, all of them lining the center of a tunnel's ceiling. And the next thing I noticed was the soreness of my back. I could explain the second thing easily. Someone was dragging me along.
I twisted with a yawn, groggy and stiff. But I suppose I could've been worse.
"Awake? Good." And with those words the firm grip on the hood of my vest loosened, and I thudded painfully onto the floor. The flimsy cloth bandages covering my head were of little help at mitigating the impact, and sharp pain arced through my skull. "I took it upon myself to lead you out of here, not drag you."
I moaned and rolled onto my stomach, wincing and blinking back tears. Then I looked up. Standing pitch-black against the bright luminescence of the bulbs was Predator, his glowing eyes the only feature I could distinguish. But for the first time, I saw him clearly in the shape of a pony; no more cloudy shroud. I rubbed my temples and slowly got up.
"Predator? Where... where are we? And... how did we get here?"
"Still in Roam's underground, on the way to intercept your friends," he answered. "As for how? Well, I dragged you here. For some reason you collapsed about three miles down that way." He pointed behind us at what appeared to be an infinite length of lit tunnel. No matter how far back I looked, it was the same. A few hours could easily pass trotting in such a place.
"I... really?" I shook my head. "I... I don't remember that."
"Yes... of course," he replied sarcastically. "Well, then what do you remember? Perhaps your dreams? You were talking a lot in your sleep. Said some rather spicy things about a... certain stallion." He chuckled.
My cheeks blazed in an instant. I looked away and cursed. "Sh-shut up. Not my fault I talk in my sleep. And you shouldn't have paid me any attention! I... I'm so humiliated." I sat down and hugged myself, trying to hide the rampaging heat that wouldn't seem to fade from my face. I couldn't tell if he was just messing with me or not. I hadn't hinted at any attraction to Goldwreath, had I? Or maybe he just picked up on it from the way I spoke. I always reminded myself that, good as I was at noticing the little things, there would always be people better at it than I was.
"I tried not to, believe me. But some of them just demanded attention," he replied. He sat down next to me, leaning back against the wall. The silence that ensued was nerve-wracking. "So, what do you remember?" he asked again.
I thought back. I tried to remember anything I could, but things were fuzzy. My concussion didn't help. But out of the blurry soup that was my mind's visualization of memories, I made out a... a corridor. And lots of squares. And... a dark place. A really, really dark place.
Those few thoughts did it. Like an avalanche, the entire memory of that place, that... that dimension of pixels, came crashing into to me. I remembered the feeling of being just a mass of particles and energy, of being the result of a complex array of reactions. I remembered... I remembered truly being myself.
Slowly, I turned to Predator. With the realization of myself, with the knowledge of my being finally entering my consciousness, everything seemed so clear, so crisp. And as if confirming my newfound being, the universe had blessed me with a clear and unrestricted view of Predator's physical form. He was indeed a pony -- or perhaps a zebra. A very large one, either way. Massive, actually: almost the size of a young manticore! Encasing his body was a suit of armor that could've only added to his bulk; it was a black mesh suit studded with huge plates of metal alloys at the chest, joints, and legs, and which gave his presence such weight I had no doubt he could crush a person just by putting a hoof down. A veritable chassis of a chestpiece, with a huge neckguard, blurred any clear separation between his body and head, and the latter was shielded by a worn helmet. His glass visor was cracked, diffracting the lights of his eyes to look like veins of lava.
He tilted his head. "I take it there's something immensely interesting about my face?"
"I... I remember. And I can see you..." I murmured. "I remember now what I was about. You told me."
He drew back slightly. "Mm, yes... perhaps I should have just let you sleep. You don't seem very clearheaded right now."
"No, I remember!" I stood up. "You, you're just... darkness. And everything around us, even me, are just... well, your analogy called them pixels! All life, every dimension and plane... they're just the products of multi-generational interactions between those little building blocks. You told me this! You did! You said that this universe is broken, a perverted version of a perfect could-have-been. You told me that the only way to fix it was to keep on living. Experience it and see into the heart of this chaos, but not blame it. You told me all this. I remember. And I remember that you also said it was the only thing I could always believe in, no matter what."
I was sure of this. I was! As sure as I knew the answers for simple arithmetic. I could remember my life from before I went on this detour with Predator. Everything had been so messy, so muddled with emotions and thoughts. But now it made sense. It all did. And I wasn't going to let my surety fade.
Predator looked at me oddly, tilting his head from side to side. "You're sure? I didn't tell you any of that. The last thing we spoke of before you inexplicably collapsed were ghosts and how you seemed to think there were any down here. But this talk of... pixels... I don't buy it."
I stared right at him. "You're testing me."
He sat there, emanating that ponderous clicking for a moment. Then he snickered. "Well... we would be lying if we said we weren't," he replied. I assumed that by 'we', he was referring to the masses of pixels that made him up. "Very good, Myst. You now have the knowledge and the belief that will cement your consciousness to your being. Few have achieved this, and always they became nexuses of great change. Consider yourself blessed."
I exhaled. His assurance felt like the final item on a checklist. "I do. Thank you."
But I was surprised at how... normal I felt. This was knowledge that dealt with my very being, telling me once and for all what I was. People often spent their entire lives trying to figure this stuff out, embarking on soul-shaping adventures that often left them permanently changed. Here it'd been handed over to me, and... well, great. How... enlightening.
"So... what now?" I asked.
He stood. "Hm?"
I tapped my forehooves together, my gaze darting around. "I... well, I mean I know what I am now... sort of. But how do I go about this? Do I... do I..." I cleared my throat. "Are, uh... things going to get better? Or, maybe, do more answers start presenting themselves? What do I do?"
Okay, so maybe this whole 'revelation' hadn't been quite as helpful as I'd thought. I now knew, in a literal sense, what I was -- and by extension, what everything was. Apparently the reason life was so fucked up was because lots of the pixels that made up existence forgot themselves and ended up either embodying the wrong things, or forgot how some concept worked and so made it function wrong. I got that much. But why was it that, even when reduced to my most fundamental particles and energies, I was still an undecided, confused mess? Was doubt integral to the pixels that made me up or something? Hell, was I made up of doubt pixels? Those existed, right?
"We said it simply, and we'll do so again: keep living. What did you expect? That remembering your being would suddenly straighten all of your life's problems, manipulating time and space to create perfection? No, things don't work like that. Not in this reality, anyway. The 'pixels', as we called them, are the groundwork of everything. All magic, matter, energy, and space are rooted in them... but it is not their place to actively reshape things. No, certainly not. They only react to one another as is fitting; they fall through the cracks, coalesce into substances, and birth new compounds as their nature dictates. And right now their nature, incorrect and misplaced as it is, creates this wastelandic life you all suffer. You are bound to it, twice-bound actually, because your being is synchronized to its laws and customs, its ways and natures; and furthermore, because you don't remember your alignment from before your involvement in this world."
Great. Even in the face of what could be the most life-changing event in my life, all I still got were pieces of advice that basically summed up to 'It's how it is, deal with it.' What a flop. Goldwreath was right; reality, even this fundamental pixel reality, sucked ass.
"Oh, don't fret," he assured me, stepping close and placing a hoof on my shoulder. "You feel doubtful? Naturally so. You're not at home. You're surrounded by family members that don't remember you. And most of all, being in this world right now, you are subject to its limitations and impulses. But you have tasted of your home. You have felt the bliss of remembrance, of being... similar. Of being alike to all others. That is the paradise that you and all your kind will eventually return to, Myst. It's just a matter of how long and difficult the process will be. And while it's true that we have not given you the intimate knowledge to acquire absolute power, or the finer truths by which greater enlightenment can be achieved, we have also not rendered your mortal life pointless, your goals trivial, or your struggles a waste. This reality dictates upon you a set of rules, and unconsciously you have played by them your whole life. But now you know for sure those rules are flawed and unfair."
He looked me over. "So, indeed... what will you do? We can only guess. Yours is the choice. Do with it what you will."
He left it that. He withdrew his hoof and turned, trotting along down the tunnel. The lights dimmed rapidly, and I felt a tingling in my spine as I forced myself after him.
"Say hello to the ghosts, Myst. The pixels of the tunnel greet you."
All around me, the dark thickened. Whispers and echoes and other indistinguishable sounds called out to me from the shadows. Images came to mind: Roaman citizens dressed in their togas, smiling at me and waving; soldiers in shiny armor giving me nods of approval; some ponies in leather outfits, raising their sticks of radigator meat to me in greeting. In all the noise, the very walls of stone seemed to be speaking to me, using the sounds of two centuries of use and habitation to communicate. The grating crash of a train. The scream of a lost mare, not unlike what I'd been. The maddened laughter of insane raiders, followed by the death cries of wastelanders.
I'll admit, I was scared. Ever since stepping out of Spiderhole, I'd had the faintest sense that there were eyes on me. The sensation had only intensified when I'd been separated from Goldwreath, and it became terrifying when Predator invoked it on me. But the tunnel wasn't evil. Noise was all it had to try to speak to me -- noise and the choking claustrophobia. Could I blame for using all it had in an attempt to speak to me? Could I blame it for playing witness to such catastrophes and trying to make some good out of them? No. And who knows, maybe in Tunnel, screams and echoing footsteps meant a friendly 'Hello'.
I put up an awkward smile. "Hello... n-nice to meet you at last. All of you."
It was weird to think of them as my family. After all, I was a mare, and they were... shadows. Shadows and noise. But I guess anything's possible when we're all just pixels, right?
***Roama Victrix***
"I still have so many questions," I said.
"Naturally," he replied.
"And... would you mind if I asked them?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"How much of our time you intend to take for your inquiries. This form of ours, this Predator, has his own life, his own obligations and desires. To put off that side of our worldly existence would not sit well with him. He has already deigned to guide you from this place: an endeavor he would not have embarked upon without our encouragement. Right now we can feel his thoughts, and they all boil down to the desire to do away with you as quickly as possible."
I frowned. "O...kay? I won't take long, then. At the least, just answer me this: why me? Why me, of all the people you've encountered?"
He stopped. He stood there for a moment, humming with thought. The faint field of red illumination cast from his visor was totally still. "Truthfully? Because you were easy to work with. Your thoughts and emotions are all aligned towards a certain spectrum of personality. If to truly be oneself is to be of pure essence, then you were closer to purity than all others we've met. They were all too diverse. Too much pride, but only under a circumstance. Too impulsive, but only when they wanted to be. Too stubborn, but only in the face of new ideas. But you, Myst? You are as you are in almost every single situation. You're less of a compound than most. Your elements were clearer to us, more defined. And so we knew how to treat you."
"And what am I, exactly?" I asked. Then, realizing he could easily answer with just the word 'pixels', I added, "I mean, as a person? What's with my personality that is apparently so universal to my being that you saw it right away?"
He turned, casting a lava-like glow upon me. "Oh, simple. It's fear, Myst. You're always afraid, even of the good things. You think all that happens negatively involves you somehow. And so you hide... and have spent most of your life doing so. We noticed it in the way you moved, the way you spoke. The way you cowered in our presence. Fear is integral to you. It comprises most of your being. Perhaps you were even pixels of Fear before your amnesia. Ah, but we cannot say for sure. You do show other feelings, after all -- possession of a pantheon of emotions is a trademark of your kind. So diverse... and so pitiable. A double edged sword, and one you have turned upon yourselves."
I was stunned, if only for a moment. It made sense. Fear had controlled me my whole life. It had controlled the way I made sense of the world, the way I interacted with others. I had always known it was a flaw, as much as it had saved me before. And now here I was, having it thrown right back at me. It was now confirmed to be part of who I was, no matter how much I hated it. But damn... what I wouldn't give to be mostly something else. I... I would have liked to be something else. Maybe a mare with a bit more adventure in her blood. That would have been nice. Y-yeah. It... would have been... nice.
I knew it was stupid to ask, but still I questioned, "Are you sure?"
He tilted his head and gave a few hesitant nods. His eyes seemed unable to meet mine. "We... we are. If we were talk in percentages, you would be about ninety-two percent Fear, eight percent... well, everything else. It is not a happy existence, we know. No one wants to be scared. Fear is not a concept even pixels like to embody. And perhaps that is Fear's nature, to be shunned and unwanted. Perhaps that is simply how it is against all the other concepts. Still... long have we lamented those composed of Fear."
He looked up, his eyes flaring with light. "It's not all bad, though... if you'll believe us. Fear is not a primal concept. It is a compound, a creation of mixtures. Within it, for example, is Caution. There is also Wisdom in Fear, and Respect, and Timidity. And like all beings made up of compound concepts, you have been afforded a great freedom: to choose from among those which you embody one you truly desire. Fear is your being, Myst, yes it is... or at least it's most of you. But if you embrace it, accept it in all its forms, with all its strengths and drawbacks, we truly believe you can change yourself. And when the time comes that your pixels remember what they truly were -- Fear or otherwise -- you as a conscious being can refute your original self. You could be whatever you want. And that is an encouraging thought."
I stared into his visor, my thoughts lost and my emotions twisted. But I managed a smile, for all it was worth. "It's the thought that counts, I guess. I don't really believe you... but thanks for trying. Really. I appreciate it, Predator."
He nodded. "You are welcome. For future reference, though, you are speaking to Dark. Predator is much less... inclined to acts and words of kindness or goodwill, even when given motivation. You'll be able to tell the difference easily, believe us. We are a neutral force, the result of the absence of Light. But Predator? Oh, he is aligned somewhere in the extreme regions of the spectrum of Good and Evil... though we who use him as a conduit in the physical plane know not to which side. His exploits are of great consequence, like yours. Great consequences lead to great change. And where there is great change..."
He looked off into the tunnel, which was now lit up at the end with a fiery orange glow. My first thought: torches! And who else did I know that had torches aside from Goldwreath and the others? For a short moment, I was ecstatic. I was finally out of there, away from a strange world of Fundamentals and pixels and back into a more familiar one of rock and sky. I wanted nothing more than to be normal again, even if it meant being misunderstood. I wanted just that, at least for a while.
But the glow didn't come from torches. That much became immediately clear. It was too powerful, too bright. And it was getting closer, fast.
"... there are also those who would try to stop it," Dark finished with a sigh, staring at the fiery glow as it approached. "Myst, get behind us."
I did as I was told, and from behind him I gazed at the burning light as it neared. I could feel heat radiating from it, like the Sun's light on the noon of a clear day. The tips of my fur and eyelashes singed, leaving the front part of my body looking half-charred. The sudden rise in temperature got to my head, and I swooned dizzily, unable to put enough thought together to even contemplate running away. I couldn't even look at it. It was so bright my eyes teared up, and even when I shut my lids I could still see it: the outline of a blazing orb singed into my sight. The source of it all came so dangerously close that my knees buckled, the heat almost knocking me out.
"Justice! Ever so dramatic with the flare," Dark called out. "Now stop it. We are Light's opposite, but that does not mean we have to fear it. Show yourself so we may talk."
The heat ebbed away, the glow diminishing. I whimpered, breathing in hot air. And when I was sure I could open my eyes without having them dried to a crisp, I looked. The light, which had before been the equivalent of a second Sun, was now just as bright as a bonfire. And its source stood tall on four armored hooves, its body clad head-to-tail in shining plates of steel. Its eyes were immediately familiar. The indigo irises blazed with a contempt I'd only ever felt from one particular knight.
Vox Populi stepped forward with large strides, his armor wreathed in flames that slowly faded. And yet the lack of fire didn't make the hundreds of meters of lava-like melted tunnel behind him seem any less terrifying. The molten stone oozed, dripping from the walls and from the ceiling, bubbling and steaming with gas. I'm not exaggerating when I say it looked like he'd brought Hell along with him.
The knight stopped a few strides away from Predator's body. "Light's opposite, are you?" he asked contemptuously. "Dark. Justice has had little dealings with you in the long history of its being. It would prefer to not clash with another Fundamental."
Predator's head shook. "Dark is not a Fundamental. And neither is Justice-..."
"Sacrilege!" Vox Populi immediately retorted, and again his form burst into flames. He growled, and the sound of it was like a hundred flamethrowers ejecting fire all at once. But slowly, the heat died down again. "Ooh, you tempt Justice's fickle wrath with your senseless words, Dark. How greatly Luck has blessed you that Justice knows it is too easily angered, lest you'd be illuminated by flames and made one with your opposite."
Dark snickered. "How lucky am I, indeed..."
"But enough talk! Vox Populi is not here for you, but for the mind and soul of the being whose body you inhabit. That... creature, that thing, is to be submitted to Justice, posthaste! Its wrongdoings eclipse all of the combined atrocities committed after the Great War, and for such heinous crimes there can be no forgiveness. Mercy would have done well to understand that."
Mercy... the weird zebra mare I'd encountered at Spiderhole. The one that'd visited Goldwreath when he was unconscious and helpless in Vox Populi's clutches. At the time I'd thought 'Mercy' and 'Justice' were just codenames for some odd gang back in Spiderhole. But no... those people were actual embodiments of abstracts. I knew that now.
"You forget your nature, Justice. It is not your place to judge this one, no matter his actions," Dark replied calmly. "No, that notion of your being is a constructed one, impure and tinged with faults and biases. You would do best to remember Justice's original purpose."
Vox Populi's indigo irises glared at Predator with a very real aura of intense heat. "The only fault Justice possesses, Dark..." Vox Populi said slowly, dangerously, "... is that it tolerates too little nonsense. What happened to you? What exploits across the cosmos have you embarked upon that would make you spout such idiocy? Where did you witness the lies that would have you dictate what is or is not Justice's duty? What heresy has overtaken you?!"
"We don't suppose we could make you remember, could we?" Dark asked. "Pixels. Time, Energy, Matter. The first sequences and reactions. The birth of new abstracts and ideas... do you feel it within you? Do you have... memories?"
"How dare you inquire of Vox Populi! He answers to none but Justice!" the knight shouted.
Dark just shook Predator's head again. He glanced back at me -- I, who had cowered behind Predator, out sight of Vox Populi's hateful glare -- and sighed. "This one will not be persuaded by any words of ours. Memory of the three true Fundamentals and of the time before the Forgetting are nowhere within its consciousness. We sense that a confrontation will be inevitable. And you, Myst, must not be here when that happens."
"VOX POPULI ASKED YOU QUESTIONS!" bellowed the knight, marching forward with glowing indigo eyes, his body flaring immensely bright. "Who is that you speak to? What... her? The mortal mare from Spiderhole? Coincidence would have her encounter Justice again? Bah! She has no business in Vox Populi's presence. A spawn of Chaos is she, fit only to meet her end. And she will meet it in me if she intervenes in matters mortals like her know nothing of."
"Between us, then," Dark replied resolutely. He turned and faced me, looking right into my eyes. "You have done well today, Myst. Much have you accomplished in mere hours that others never could even with their whole lives. But circumstance would have you leave us now. We hope to meet you again. Now go, and seek answers."
I shook my head, looking between him and the knight. "Wait, I... I can't just-..."
He didn't give me time to protest. His hoof touched my forehead, and my vision tunneled. I was thrown forward into the tunnels at breakneck speeds, the whole world falling away into the distance as wisps of shadows carried me off. The whole scene with Justice and Dark was nothing more than a tiny point of light, but in an instant it burst with such radiance that my carriers burned away. I could feel their essence dissipating all around me, Dark purged by Light -- and suddenly I was in free flight.
I didn't have wings. I wasn't a pegasus -- I had no wind magic! I was flying forward at lethal velocities, and there was no way of slowing myself down, or even landing safely. I gasped and writhed, flopping my hooves around in futility as the tunnel behind me exploded with light and heat.
I was sure there was no wall of pillows waiting for me. There would be no surviving this. There was nothing I could do about it. I closed my eyes and screamed.
Then something heavy punched the air out of my lungs and knocked me out.
The zebra chronicler Delvius stared at Myst weirdly. She shrank back and nervously rubbed her forehooves together on the couch.
"What... what is it?" she asked.
Delvius shook his head. "Ah, nothing. Just... having a hard time comprehending what you just told me. It's, and please don't take offence... outright absurd. For me, anyway. I'd put this down in the book, but..."
"You don't have to," Myst said straight away. Her eyes were filled with predetermined desire, as was her tone. "I'd almost prefer you didn't."
The zebra reeled back in surprise. "Okay? Then why even tell me these two chapters worth of details if you'd rather I not put them down?"
She smiled wanly. "Like you said. It's absurd. No one would believe it. You certainly don't seem to, anyway."
Delvius agreed with her reasoning for the most part. But something happened then that he did not expect: at her final sentence, he felt a sudden and powerful urge to disagree. Something inside him, something in his head, had made him want to believe -- even just for a very brief instant -- the outlandish tale of Myst and the Fundamental of Dark.
Myst's smile widened, as if she knew... but she couldn't have. Delvius had shown no signs of the desire on his face. It was something that occurred in his head, almost too quickly for his body to have a physical response.
She got up and finished her tea. "Anyway... I should go. Thanks for coming over, Delvius. Good luck with your book."
A few moments later, Delvius was trotting down the hill again, back towards Roam. As he went, Goldwreath's voice spoke into his earpiece, "So, you done? How'd it go?"
The zebra hesitated to answer. He was still unsure of what had transpired with himself. But at last he said, "Better than I expected."
"Great!" Goldwreath said. "Also, I'm available for interview again if you want. I managed to get the legates to take up some administrative duties, so I'm stuck with more free time than I know what to do with."
Chapter X Outcasts "Associate with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation; for it is better to be alone than in bad company."
What is there to say that isn't obvious? That I panicked when I got word that no one had seen that strange grey mare with the antisocial tendencies and the timid demeanor? Or maybe that I halted the crowd and spent an hour galloping back and forth through the tunnels, calling Myst's name into the void? Oh, but both those things were very obvious, very much what I and even those around me expected me to do -- to the point that moving forward was completely out of the question until I found either Myst, or, gods forbid... her body. It was a daunting task, one that squeezed at my heart. I couldn't breathe calmly or keep my irritation in check. I couldn't take my mind off of thinking of ways to locate her, as much as such thoughts only increased my panic. I... I couldn't imagine going on without her.
Ah, but what I absolutely could and did do was envision what I was going to do to that... infuriating, maddening anomaly of a mare when I found her. By the gods, the things I would scold her for! And by the gods again, the things I would hug her for! Rage and affection had split my mind in half, one side hell-bent on inflicting such a punishment upon Myst that she would never again think of doing something so stupid, and the other side pleading with me to be so kind to her such that she'd wonder if maybe she hadn't done anything wrong at all. But of course she had wronged me -- wronged all of us. Intentionally or unintentionally, through her own faults or by freak circumstance -- I knew not. And until I found the specifics, I was going to keep my judgement.
No matter the chaos of my thoughts, my actions had to be swift and sure, my emotions and thoughts fairly placed and justifiably expressed. Of that much I was certain. The tunnels, yes, were... disturbing. It was as though a thousand breaths crept down my neck, infusing me with long years of torment and despair. I looked and saw nothing, and yet I... wondered. The anxiety spawned by such a place was suffocating; poor Myst may have had a panic attack. Perhaps she heard some noise and galloped off wildly, mistakenly thinking she was right behind us. So many uncertainties... Myst, after all, was Myst. If I was to deal with her for some foreseeable time, I had to understand her. Her, a queer little puzzle that attracted me with all her strange charms of... shyness, and... weirdness. Uh... yes.
And so, I thought determinedly as I trotted down one of the tunnels that branched off from the underground hub, I had to be ready to comprehend how such an event transpired. Like a light cast in mysterious places, I had to be ready to illuminate the mysteries that would surely crop up around her. I wanted to. I wanted to go through such trouble and effort, and for no other had I possessed such desires. She was a misunderstood mare, that was obvious just from looking at her. And I liked to think I had a mind capable of deciphering mysteries.
Hm. I... suppose that was as good a summary for my attraction to her as there could be. She was a mystery, and I a detective. I blushed, and despite myself and the great predicament we were all in, I stopped in the tunnel and took a short moment to smile.
"The things that Venus makes me think," I murmured, shaking my head. Not that I really believed some nonexistent goddess had put those ideas in me, of course. It was simply easier than admitting to myself the magnitude of my own embarrassing thoughts. "Like a light cast on dark places... gah, that's cheesy. Who would think up such trash?"
I was dispersing my hormone-addled thoughts, clearing my head and getting back on track, when suddenly the most blinding flash I've ever seen in my entire life flared from somewhere down the tunnel. Burning pain engulfed my eye sockets, the image of a blazing orb seared into my sight as I turned away and staggered back. By the gods... hot. It was getting hot. So hot it was dizzying. The very floor, once cold and hard to my hooves, was slowly rising to a blistering temperature.
I found myself dancing over the surface, struggling to keep my hooves off the scorching ground. I cursed luck for my broken and bandaged wings. For the first time ever, I felt the struggle all the unicorns and earth ponies and zebras in my life went through everyday: I was grounded, and it sucked.
"There's only disadvantage in having no wings!" I hissed, turning away from the light, intent on getting out of the tunnel as quickly as possible. Progress was painfully slow, and ground to a halt entirely when I heard a sound from the rear. There was the familiar distant roar of rushing flames, yes. But there was something else... screaming? Yes... and a familiar voice's screaming, no less.
"Myst?" I asked, dumbfounded, as I braved the radiance of the light once more. I didn't see her, but her screaming neared with each passing second -- and with each second, my hooves cried in protest, and my eyes teared, begging for me to turn away from such ludicrous luminosity. And yet I held fast, clinging to the hope that she was near. I cared not for what circumstance would bring her back, just that she would be back at all.
Then I saw it: a black splotch against the light, closing the distance with great speed. In such contrasted illumination, no details of the splotch's surface could be made out. And yet against all doubt I knew that it was Myst. She was sailing through the air, launched from wherever this explosion had originated from -- and she had no means of control. No wings to slow her down, no magic to cushion her fall... she would die unless I saved her.
Instinctively, I began to gallop backwards. The heat was searing now, utterly torturous to endure, and the light was nothing short of blinding. But Myst was my point of focus; so long as I was concentrated on her, I would endure. I had to, for both our sakes. And so as I moved, I anticipated with my best guesses her trajectory through the air. When the time came, I had to make a jump, and hope my calculations were correct.
She was near now. So near... but not yet! Remember Goldwreath, you've no wings to use right now. Almost there... yes! No, not yet! Her screaming's yet too distant. Bah, no it isn't -- concentrate, concentrate. No indecision.
Now, Goldwreath! Now!
With a shout, I launched myself into the air with all my force. A deep breath of hot air puffed inside my lungs, fueling the effort at hoof. My legs spread out, readying to catch the bullet-fast Myst. At the time I didn't think catching such a small mare would be so painful. Oh, how wrong I was. The impact flattened my armor against my ribs. We both sailed through the air and met the ground just moments later with a painful crash. We rolled, and came to a stop skidding across the sizzling surface. The metal of my armor conducted the heat too well, and it was all I could do to muffle a scream as I shambled up.
"Myst..." I panted, dragging myself over to her limp form. She was in a bad way, singed by the heat, before or since, and knocked unconscious by our collision. It couldn't have been good for her previous concussion. Whatever had happened that wound her up in this situation was beyond me -- and at the time, all I cared for was that we both got out of there alive. So I hissed through grit teeth as I agonizingly slung her up onto my back and galloped away. Or at least, tried to gallop. The heat had dazed me so, and my vision and mental faculties has deteriorated. Each breath flared inside my lungs with excruciating heat. For all my efforts, my 'galloping' was nothing more than a lazy, staggering canter.
I dared a glance back, staring into the massive fireball that was only getting closer. It was all the reminder my sluggish mind needed to realize that I could not let any weakness take hold. Not now. Not when more than my own life depended on it. Oh yes, the temptation was great, believe me. In the swirling vortex of pained disorientation that was my mind, the only solid thought was the desire to let out a breath and collapse. The suffering of utter incineration would last only a second, right?
I turned away from the blazing light and, for a few moments that terrified me only afterwards, when I had sufficient mental cohesion to grasp the magnitude of my delay, I stood still. I stood still and breathed. It seemed so easy to accept death. So peaceful to forget it all... but I had made the people of Spiderhole a promise. And I had made a commitment to represent Marediolanon before the Legion in Roam. And my parents and friends, the people who mattered, were still expecting me. And Myst had yet to meet them... had yet to feel the love and calm of a home.
How could I possibly lay down now when all of my life was nothing but unfulfilled commitment?
I sighed and prayed quietly, a faint humming-droning noise filling my ears from seemingly nowhere, "Grant me strength, oh gods and goddesses of Roam, that by my merits of action and word your existence may be assured to all who doubt; and against the enemies of Roam I swear to be your champion, if you deign it that this one time, against all impossibilities, I may prevail. Jupiter, Dies Pater... let just acts be done this day."
Afterwards, I delayed no longer. The noise in my ears had taken full effect, almost totally blocking out all other sounds. I closed my eyes then opened them, seeing through the haze with startling clarity. The heat on my back was now just a warmth, the fatigue in my legs an indifferent numbness. And in my heart I felt a will to live as I had never felt before -- it was the will to do all I had set out to do, for myself and for others, and for Roam. To crush the obstacles that stood in the way of a future for the Roaman people, and to pursue my path to its farthest end. I felt alive and impassioned, full of will -- and it was with all these blessings that I surged forward through the tunnel, one step ahead of pursuing inferno. And though the walls melted and the pipes burst with hot gas, I afforded myself no respite. I galloped on, enduring the blistering roar of oncoming flames and the thinness of air.
When at last I reached the underground hub, I jumped forward and dove to the side, pressing myself and Myst against the wall. And not a moment too soon, for immediately a veritable tidal wave of fire erupted into the chamber. My face was mere feet from the unstoppable torrent of heat that flooded the entire space, melting stone and metal as the hub's entire area was consumed in dazzling orange and yellow. I shielded Myst from the fires, keeping her burned and broken body from further harm. In that maelstrom of destruction I felt puny and insignificant, utterly out of place. And yet also blessed. There was a kind of beauty to it: a power that brought home to me how vulnerable we were. How easy to snuff out. And yet by the grace of the gods, there I was, witness to it all.
The flames engulfed stone and made slag of the floor and walls, but gradually the torrent weakened. I held Myst in my hooves and smiled faintly, tiredly.
I shook my head as my vision darkened. "Crazy mare... what have you gotten yourself into down here?" I felt my strength leaving me, the surge of will and energy draining from my limbs. The noise faded from my ears. I crumpled, and it was all I could do to lay her down and collapse next to her.
"Tell me about it... when you wake up. Okay? Maybe over a nice meal, somewhere... with candles and a rose in a tall glass. Because I'd like to know. Really." I broke out a little laugh and said quietly, "Consider it a date. Lemme know... if you accept."
I passed out grinning like a fool.
***Roama Victrix***
"... astonishing, really. Isn't it? With the kind of outer damage he seems to have had, his skin and muscle tissue are surprisingly intact. And given your description of the location you found him in, it's all the more impressive. Clearly the gods have shown him their favor."
My ears perked up. My mind began to wake from the thoughtless realm of unconsciousness, noticing little stimuli. Soft sheets, warm air -- warm but not still, not like underground. There was a draft. And more noise, that of hammering and trotting; the clink of metal, distant calls of names and orders. My eyes slowly peeled open, noticing first the Aquila laid against a simple wooden table. Then I saw the walls of a red tent directly behind that table, and finally a smooth stone floor, rimmed with dirt where the tent's pegs were nailed into the ground.
Immediately, I knew from all this: a Legion camp. And if no convoluted mishap had transpired during my incapacitation, then most likely I would be safe here. And if the people of Spiderhole were here, too, then they would also be in good hooves.
"Yes, of course... oh. Um, Vesperius, sir? He's waking," said another voice. Now, unlike that first voice, this one I recognized. And I wasn't quite sure how I felt about knowing he was here.
I turned my head groggily, beholding the grey and black silhouette of a robed zebra. Behind him were the open flaps of the tent, allowing me vision of a blurry, overexposed world. For now I would focus on this zebra alone, and in no time made out his form.
"Delvius? Is that actually you?" I asked.
The zebra I knew to be one of the praetorians of the crazed praefect Imperius nodded. "It is. I... suppose you wouldn't have noticed me while we were underground. I just blended in with the crowd, hoping for an opportune moment to reveal myself."
"And you really thought now was the time?" I didn't like it, not one bit. I mean, sure, Delvius had been one of the more agreeable praetorians during the whole mess with Arachnia and Spiderhole, but the fact remained that he was affiliated with the psychopath that had rendered my hard work and sacrifice pointless. Why was he here? Why had he followed us? Was it perhaps to get away from an order he didn't agree with? It was the most likely cause, but he'd have to convince me of it. For all I knew, he was spying on me.
Delvius seemed, at least, to understood my suspicions. He returned my stare for a few moments, then relented and looked away with lament in his eyes. Hmph. Well, at least he was giving off the right impression.
"Ahah, well now... I feel rather estranged here," the other voice said. I rolled my eyes to peer at the source.
This other zebra was different -- quite different. He was thin and lanky, his dark, metallic muscle-cuirass loosely clinging to his body. His expression was calm but tired; his eyebags were dark and his eyelids drooped, and his golden irises bore into me with a steady stare. His mane was shaved down to almost nothing but stubs, like a criminal's -- it was certainly not regulation style as taught to me by the centuria, at least. He seemed to me to resemble every stereotypical psychopath shown in old movies in Marediolanon's atrium. At the very least, though, his smile seemed friendly, faint as it was. Unless of course he was as skilled at faking kindness as all the other psychopaths, in which case I was probably in a lot of trouble.
Unnerved, I slowly sat up. "Uh, hello... there..." I cleared my throat. My sudden anxiety coupled with my thirst to render my voice hoarse. "And, ah, no. It's at least not my intent to estrange you, though I suppose you wouldn't exactly know what we're talking about."
The zebra shrugged, very plainly and devoid of emotion, and said nothing more on the matter. It occurred to me then that he had a purple cape over his back and an equally purple tunic under his armor. He was either a praetorian guard or some high-ranking officer. Personally, I'd had enough of both for the week. I squinted at him and groaned quietly.
He tilted his head and rose a brow. "Something the matter?"
I sighed and forced a smile. "Just... residual pain. Been through a tough week."
"A tough week?" He gave me a sideways look, then clicked his tongue. Suddenly his eyes drooped to almost a full close, and he slumped. "Why yes it has been a rather tiresome past few days. Rather... rather tiresome, yes indeed..." He swayed slightly and planted a hoof on a pole for balance. He took a deep breath.
"Fellow Roamans, pardon me. I ah... need some fresh air," he said, then turned and trotted out with a stumble.
I looked to Delvius. "What was all that about? Is he alright?"
He took a deep breath and looked around, licking his lips. "Ah, well... I can't speak for lord Vesperius. He's a very busy zebra, from what I've seen. I suppose any oddities in his mood can be attributed to exhaustion... or caffeine. He drinks a lot, and not wine. No, I think even the tiniest amount of that would put him straight to sleep at this point. It could also be that you may have reminded him of how tired he is."
I nodded idly. "You speak as though you know him," I noted.
Delvius looked outside, then back to me. "I have gotten to known him, yes," he replied. "You've been out long enough for us to have conversations regarding... many things."
My ears perked up. "'Long enough?'"
He nodded. "Two days. We found you and Myst curled up on the only patch of smooth rock in a chamber that looked basically like a big raisin. The Legion's medics, they looked after you in your sleep. Your body was... horribly deprived of nutrients after your ordeal down there, so they had to put a tube in your throat for liquid foods. You didn't need it for long, though. As you might've heard Vesperius say, you've quite a fast metabolism, and heal quickly. Gods be praised for all your blessings, for Jupiter has clearly shown you his favor."
I thought back, remembering the chamber filling with fire, the rocks melting into glowing ooze. I recalled the heat, the pain, the adrenaline. But most of all I remembered my desperate prayer to the gods. I couldn't have survived down there, absolutely not, without some benevolent intervention. By all logical sense, I should have died. But I didn't.
I felt a gentle presence tugging on my attention, and my eyes instinctively drifted over to the eagle. Just looking at it infused me with a warm, comforting feeling. A kind of faith... knowing that somewhere out there, in the great universe, were authorities on all the good things, and that they would see justice done. That in the end, they would make sure all was right.
Now, that moment. It was, ah... well, it brought change to me. If that comforting warmth was what faith felt like, it was no wonder people upheld it. I had never truly believed in the gods. There was just no evidence of them. They were explanations from a pre-enlightened period of time, fragments of old culture. But perhaps... perhaps... well, maybe it couldn't hurt to give them a shot. Just for a while, to see what happened...
The sun outside seemed to shine brighter, and the air entered my lungs more fully. Scent and hearing were suddenly sharper, and I felt overall better -- a little lighter of heart, and stronger, faster, quicker in the head. But if all that was an act of some environmental phenomenon, Delvius didn't notice. The eagle was quite obviously shinier now, though, glittering almost as though a fire were next to it. And again, Delvius didn't seem to perceive. A pleasant humming noise filled the air, very quietly, like the monotone drone of distant buzzing bees.
I blinked and shook my head, then leaned forward and took a deep breath. I rubbed my face. "Two days is a long time. I'd be almost disappointed if nothing at all happened in that span. Anything I should know about?"
Then my head clicked. "Hold on. First things first. Myst? How is she? Where is she?"
Delvius recoiled slightly, then smiled for an instant before letting it melt away. His expression turned plain. "Oh, she's still out of it. She needs more time is all. Surgeons are tending to her in one of the red-and-white medical tents outside in the fields. Mind you, she wasn't as... intact as you were. Concussion and burns and... other unsightly injuries. And she was far more deprived of necessary sustenance than you were, too. In comparison, you've just got broken wings -- which, I've been told, are healing quite well."
I grimaced. Myst had been in a bad way when last I saw her. I wouldn't have expected her to get well soon, but two days and not even signs of consciousness? That spelled 'bad' a thousand times over. Of course, there was nothing I could do about it. I had saved her life, at least. I just had leave the rest to the medical experts who were hopefully doing everything they could.
I sighed, then rubbed my face again and looked behind me. I stretched my wings. Aside from some numbness and aching, they were almost back to normal. "Well... at least there's this. I'll take what good news I can get. So, back to my original question... what's going on?"
He opened his mouth... then shut it. He cleared his throat and squinted in thought. "Ah, well..." he started, then shrugged. "I'm really not sure. Mostly I've just been going with the flow, staying with the other refugees. I know what's going on with them, sure, but it's just routine stuff. Getting settled in this camp, mostly. Meet the Legion, say we're not hostile, get brought into their camp, so on so forth... humdrum. They've been good to us so far, anyway. The bunch of elders you had around you have taken care of their own people, don't worry. Though, if you want to put them at ease, you could pay them a visit. They've been growing anxious to see their hero again."
I snickered and gave him a queer look. "Their hero?"
He gave a half-smile and nodded. "You saved them, Goldwreath. Whether you acknowledge the title or not, the fact is that you stood up for them. You protected them. And when things started fucking up really hard, you led them. You may not think much of it. You may just say 'it's what anyone would do', but it's not. Not in the wasteland. You've shown them you care, and that you care enough to act. That's rare these days."
He stepped back and gave a little bow -- a gesture that I wasn't quite comfortable with. Then he made for the exit, too. He stopped and turned around. "Oh, yes, right. If you really want to know what's going on, I'd talk to Vesperius. He's in the big tent on the hill. You can't miss it." He grinned slyly. "You seem to have a penchant for getting yourself involved with local affairs. Maybe you could make yourself useful again, eh?" He chuckled and left.
"A... penchant for it?" I grumbled. That wasn't true, was it? I mean, I had to intervene back at Marediolanon. Anyone would do the same for their own home, yes? Now, Spiderhole was a different story, I suppose...
I sighed. "Gods, he's right. I really need to care less from time to time." But even as I said it, I knew it couldn't be done. I was a guard, a protector of people. As long as they were not at peace, I would always have to involve myself. Such was my burden, and such it still is.
I stood up and stretched. The muscles in my body loosened quite comfortably. When that was done I made a motion to exit, but stopped. I turned slowly.
The Aquila was still there. I couldn't leave it, not even here. Its previous bearer had handed it over to me when he was too crippled to wield it. Now it was my responsibility as it was his. It belonged to the Legion, yes... but it was my charge, and I couldn't treat it any less.
It will be an odd thing to see for those outside, I thought as I picked it up. A naked pony, strutting around a camp of zebras and all that -- and what's more for that pony to be carrying an Aquila. Oh, the looks that would go my way... common Roaman courtesy would dictate I at least wear a tunic while holding such a prestigious idol, but there was no such clothing in sight, and I didn't know where in the world my armor had gone.
It made me self-conscious. After such a long time wearing my gear, the freedom of movement that only bare skin could allow felt odd... too elastic and bare, unbridled. I can't speak for any other armor-donning figure, but somehow I liked the feel of metal plates on my flesh. I liked the burden of duty they represented, the discipline required for their usage. Being naked felt as though I had been demoted and stripped of my title as a guard -- a thought that troubled me so deeply I shuddered right there in that tent. My whole life as I knew it was predicated on the obligations of being a protector, and if those were taken from me... I would be free. Oh, but what a directionless, chaotic freedom it would be. Sometimes, I thought, it is better to know and accept oneself as is than to risk forever losing track.
I shouldered the eagle and stepped outside. Not for the first or last time, light rendered seeing a painful task, but the scenery presented froze me instantly. My heart skipped a beat.
I had... hah, well, I'd heard so much of Roam, the Eternal City. Caput Mundi, the center of the world. I needed no signs, or posters, or words to tell me where I was. For when one emerges from a dim tent to be greeted by the sky-arcing aqueducts streaking across the heavens like narrow bridges going from north to south, east to west, one knows one is in Roam. And only in Roam could a wasteland carry any pride -- any semblance of the old glory that once was, a stubborn remnant of past greatness. For indeed, before me was a huge circular field, ringed by high fences of slender metal spikes. Beyond was a maze of old constructs -- open-air marble temples and pavilions of various sizes, ranging from the towering dome of the Pantheon itself to the humbler shrines below; the old roads were straight and wide, a mix of marble sidewalks and black asphalt.
Within the metal fence, the field was arrayed with an army of tents. Hundreds of them, organized in perfect grid-pattern; they were all bright red in the noontime sun. Banners fluttered in the draft as entire centuriae of Legion soldiers marched in formation, heading out a gate that led to the urban ruins beyond. Columns of armored vehicles led them into the city, their whirring engines competing with the hoofsteps of hundreds of zebras to fill the air with noise. Yet despite their departure enough legionaries had been left behind to tend to the numerous pathways of stone within the field; even as I watched I saw them building whole sections from scratch with new blocks of stone. And that was not all: green plants were being laid down, tenderly ensconced into the earth by the steady hooves of Roamans.
I blinked. Then I blinked again, slower, and smiled. "Long have I wished to see the city of the ancients. Had this been a trip without a deadline, I would have walked in through the outer limits instead of creeping in through tunnels. I'd have gawked shamelessly at the fabled walls of Roam, and at the statues of emperors, and at the Road of Triumphs..." I took a deep breath. "Ah, what an inappropriate approach I undertook instead..."
"Mm, undignified, yes. But inappropriate? Hardly."
I turned and saw Vesperius leaning against the stump of a broken column -- again, all very casually. The aura he exuded was one of placid energy, very calm; but for the most part, he just seemed bored. In his forehooves was a tiny rectangular device, sleek and black, to which his eyes were glued and on which he was tapping relentlessly.
"Roam does not demand that all things be glorious and grand -- just that, in comparison to her own greatness, all those other things are not. I'd say you prostrated yourself quite well, being carried into Roam's premises on a stretcher, burnt and injured. Quite a sight. Stirred things up around here. Exciting. Made the last two days here eventful. Really."
I didn't speak. I didn't know Vesperius. In all likelihood, he could have been a fine character. He also could have been a shadier zebra, like Thanus -- a person of mixed morals, hard to understand. And, as I feared, he very well could have been a ruthless maniac like Imperius had been. In one week, I'd met far too many individuals who would dare to don the color purple, the palette of the Roaman elite, and too few of them had in my mind proven themselves worthy of their tunics and titles.
I stared at him. He continued to tap on his device. At one point, he just stamped his entire hoof on the screen.
Out of sheer desire to break the awkward silence, I asked, "What's that?"
"Personal information processing unit," he answered plainly. "Sifts through significant data from other such units. Excellent device. Useful for easy viewing and composing of crucial documents -- reports, messages, video and audio files, etcetera... greatly reduces paperwork."
"Ah. Useful..." I muttered. He just kept tapping away. For a guy who looked so tired and bored, he showed no signs of stopping. "You walked out earlier. You said you needed fresh air. Tired much?"
"Oh yes, certainly. But plentiful sleep is not for the likes of me. I allotted myself the appropriate breathing time and that was all I needed. Three minutes. Good oxygen, yes, good oxygen... but my work is important. Utterly crucial. Can't stop now."
I stared at him as his hooves relentlessly pressed on the screen. My attempts at small talk had only made things more awkward, at least for me. "Clearly."
I looked around, wondering if I could yet abandon this awkward encounter. I wanted to see Myst. I wanted to get a feel of the situation I was in, feel the tides of worldly events. In fact, I had a short list of things I actually had in mind: I needed to ensure the security of the people of Spiderhole in this Legion camp, make sure they could start over. Then I needed to wait for Myst to awaken -- that part would take an undetermined amount of time; and after that I had to go meet the Legion's leader, represent my people, then hopefully I'd be given duties that would have me actively spend my time making things better out here. I had a wasteland to explore and assist. Encounters with the likes of Vesperius would make the very last item on my list of agendas.
Vesperius showed no signs of further interest in me, so I turned and was about walk away when his device beeped. I looked back and caught him smiling faintly, heaving a sigh.
"At last," he said quietly, "Break time."
And just like at, he seemed to transform into a whole different person. His physical attributes were the same, of course, but suddenly his posture and demeanor seemed alive, infused with the energy of a person who wasn't sleep-deprived. He had expressions on his face now, and his breathing seemed to actually fuel his movements instead of just being a faint sign that he was still alive.
He looked up at me with a very curious expression. "Ten minutes," he said to himself. Then he took one deep breath and asked simply, "You don't like me, do you?"
"Nor do I dislike you," I said straight away, hoping to avoid any form of confrontation. The sudden normalcy of his revitalized being uneased me. "You just, ah... resemble a few individuals I have much more definite opinions on. Negative opinions, too."
Oddly enough, he smiled. Then he glanced at his device. "Oh, I think I understand. I hear you had quite the encounter with that Imperius character. Very, very unfortunate, oh yes indeed..." He grimaced and tapped on the screen, and text flashed alongside a set of images -- photos depicting the cylindrical structure of Arachnia, and the caves, and formations of all three of Spiderholes's (potentially former) guardians.
The tiny device began to quietly narrate in a very formal, very calm female zebra's voice, "The stable of Arachnia was among the first fallout shelters constructed, with the primary directive of preserving and manifesting the most cherished periods of Imperial Roaman rule in the continent of Zebrica..."
I listened as the narration went on, watching as short videos depicting the construction of the stable played. Then I looked up and met Vesperius' eyes.
"I hear that things went quite sourly there. Your efforts, it would seem, were... for naught," he said, looking at my with sympathy, and pity.
I looked away. "Yeah." The mere memory of the slaughter that lunatic of a praefect had visited upon his own fellows sparked disgust in me. He did all that, and for what? Power? Order? The insanity of it was repulsive... and yet somehow intriguing, too. How had it gone so wrong, I wondered. I couldn't go back to Spiderhole to confront Imperius; I didn't know the way. But I made a mental note of prying as much information as I could out of Delvius. There had to be a reason for it all... and damn well did Delvius owe me some explanation if he wanted things to be clearer between us. He knew something, surely, and I was going to have him tell it to me.
Vesperius turned, looking off into the distance. The Legion detachment was well away from the camp now, past the fences and in the city. For all their numbers, they were but shifting specks of bright red and shining silver. The camp was quiet, except for distant, muted sounds: that of hammering on stone and steel, and the laying down of roads, and the erecting of small shrines on the edge of the field.
Vesperius took a deep breath and looked to the sky, as if studying it. I looked around, trying to get a better sense of my surroundings. I stopped when I saw the next image that popped up on his device. It was of me. It was my photo from the cohors urbanae, back when I first joined a year before: I stood straight and tall, dressed in my guard armor, with a stoic expression. But I remembered the moment all too well; at that time, I was trying hard not to smile with glee.
"H-how...?" I mumbled, pointing at the image.
"Hm? Oh, this? Thanus sent me the image, as well as your records from Marediolanon," he answered, and I gave him a wide-eyed, open-mouthed look of bewilderment. He smirked and looked back to the device. "You have an excellent service record, if rather short. You never abandoned your posts... no signs of bias when it came to arrests... no unfortunate incidents from personal consumption of alcohol..."
He went on for a moment, noting all my merits, until I stopped him in my embarrassment. "Please," I said, holding up a hoof. "I am... just like all my brothers in the guard detail. There's nothing in my records that don't also describe them." Then I growled, "And how did Thanus get a hold of those records? Only our centurion has access to them."
Vesperius shrugged. "Thanus is efficient at obtaining information and subduing his charges. You have mixed feelings for him, yes? I certainly do. Do you think he's ruthless? Conniving? You'd be right. He most certainly is those things. But deep down in his heart, he means well. I've known him long enough to trust his motives, however he proceeds to achieve them. That he has a tendency to anger such characters as yourself with his direct displays of authority and control is... unfortunate, but unavoidable. And yet for all his flaws, I knew he'd accomplish his task, as I gave it to him. For here you are, after all, in Roam."
I cast a cold, narrow gaze on Vesperius. He met it with a blank stare. "What's that supposed to mean?" I said lowly.
"Ah. The confrontation, as Apollo showed me in my dreams. Wonderful," he said with a sigh. "Well, what it means, Goldwreath, is that it was my intent to have an audience with you ever since I received your files. I expressed the desire, and Thanus made the arrangements. Granted, it was not part of the plan for you to endure that series of events in the desert... but here you are anyway."
I shifted, feeling my muscles tense. "You?" I deadpanned. "You're the reason I'm out here? Make no mistake, lord Vesperius, I am out here of my own volition. I shouldered the burden of an occupation my people never knew of or asked for. I made the best of a dire situation. I prevented needless slaughter, and I set out from Marediolanon to represent my people to the Roam's highest leaders. The Legion, they presented me the opportunity to do that -- they gave me a chance to make the world a better place, for Roamans and all others. Those are my missions. I'm not here to get sidetracked by you."
This zebra and Thanus, they had conspired to bring me here. They were the reasons the normal life of Marediolanon were shattered. Granted, we had an obligation to the empire, and thus it was in accordance with our duties that we should suffer and labor for Roam. But that two scheming commanders with their own motives were behind an otherwise noble operation didn't sit well with me. Conspiracy had almost brought Roam to ruin before. Now I knew why Vesperius' mere presence uneased me. He bore resemblances to every bad aristocrat, public figure, and leader I'd ever learned of. Or at the very least, he seemed to me to represent the one thing that had so long undermined the hard work of the countless soldiers and civilians of Roam: Politics, with all its damn powerplays and conniving.
Vesperius met my rant with an expression of utter confusion. He tilted his head, then pressed his lips together and met my eyes. "But, Goldwreath... I'm not here to distract you at all. I am the one you're supposed to represent your people to. I am Vesperius Titanus Aurelius Augustus, and I command the Legion, capital L. I am the high authority with whom you're to meet, and despite what you may think of me, I am not your enemy and bear absolutely no ill will towards you or your people. I swear by the gods."
As if to bring his point home, he knelt down before me and bowed. He... he was prostrating himself before me. The Aquila reflected the sun's light onto him, bathing him in gold. All of a sudden my ill-tempered feelings were reversed, and my eyes widened.
"I'm-I'm sorry," I stammered, bending down and bringing him up by the forehooves. My mind raced as I thought of what to say to such a prestigious and powerful individual. My throat went dry and my hide turned clammy. "I didn't know you were... nobody told me..." I fumbled around, embarrassing myself before the most powerful person in all of Roam as I tried to make excuses for myself. Normally I wouldn't have cared to try. I hardly knew Vesperius, and he didn't have any of my sincere respect. But as the seconds ticked by, the gravity of how I'd conducted myself around him bore down on me. Oh, what a terrible representative I was, to let my own feelings dictate my demeanor!
After a while I just shut up. Then I took a deep breath. "Please don't take offense, sir, but... you just didn't quite strike me as the one in charge here. One of high rank, yes, but... not the one I was supposed to meet."
"Eh, fair enough." He shrugged, smiling casually. "I get that often. After all, you think of the Legion's leader, and what comes to most people's heads is a centurion taken up to eleven. They expect a proven battlefield tactician, a frontline leader like in the days of old. A tough fellow with will strong enough to move the clouds. A strong zebra, expertly trained in all devices of war."
He smirked. "Well, ironically, those descriptions fit my subordinates instead. I am... admittedly... lacking in those regards. I am an administrator more than a commander. And that is because, Goldwreath, to fix this wasteland people must first see the problems for what they are and work from there. Passions must be reserved, leaders kept in the rear... for these are rare resources and must be carefully rationed. To smash against the numerous dangers of the wasteland with feeling before thought can be a crucial mistake. And that is why the senate has put me in charge of their armed forces. And that is also why I must always make the practical choices, like having my praetorians out in the field instead of wasting their training guarding me. And it is also why I've called you here. I would apologize for the inconveniences, but I knew it had to be done."
I nodded. My mind was still getting itself back together from the revelation of Vesperius' identity. Truly, I hadn't expected such an individual heading all these operations. Indeed, I had expected someone more akin to Horus. Close to his troops, leading from the front... using inspiration and will to seize the day, that was how Roamans worked. Or at least, how I would have liked Roamans to work. But if Vesperius had been trusted with such duties, I, well... I could only trust that he had the competence to deliver.
"Well sir, here I am," I said. "After an arduous and wholly unexpected journey, I'm here at last. Here to represent my people..." I cleared my throat, wracking my head to come up with an appropriate way to proceed. What to do before such a person of power? How to show that I was here to represent the duties and obligations of a whole people? How... how to show him Marediolanian character? And not the stubborn, presumptuous, and mistrusting half that I and my people had displayed, but rather the side that boasted our loyalty and courage?
Ah, of course! Bow. Bow before Roam and the gods, as he had to prove his point. Now it was my turn.
"You bowed to me in placation, and I bow to you in servitude," I said as I handed him the Aquila. At first, my hooves were tight and stiff, unwilling to give up what I'd been entrusted to protect. But it was in Roam now, safely returned to its rightful owners. I had been entrusted to protect it, and I had. I'd done my duty... and so I let it go.
Vesperius took it, and I knelt down on both knees and faced the dirt. I took a deep breath. "I am at your disposal, lord Vesperius. I and all my talents are yours, if only I may use them for Roam and the gods. I, who represent the people of Marediolanon, lord... am at your command."
I heard a thud as he planted the eagle's metal base into the dirt. "And gladly, the Legion accepts," he said firmly. "And Goldwreath, you've done more than enough to represent your people -- and to inspire them, it would seem. The actions you undertook for your home have roused the slumbering senses of duty that'd been laying dormant in your fellows, so my reports say, whilst your more recent exploits have shown me a glimpse of the determination of your brethren. There is no need to bow before me, who could not have accomplished even half of your amazing feats of durability and persistence. Rise."
I did as I was told, then held back a gasp. For as I looked, his eyes were lit with a fading blue light. Not even a second passed before it disappeared entirely and his irises turned back to gold. A barely-audible droning noise faded along with the blue. I was mystified and froze where I stood. And though his smile was the same as ever, faint and forced through a degree of exhaustion, I suddenly felt a great deal of anxiety -- as though I were being watched by more than just one pair of eyes.
He tilted his head. "You look as though you've seen a ghost," he noted. "I suppose that, for some, the weight of commitments can be rather shocking. Are you having second thoughts already?"
I shook my head, more to shake myself out of my stupor than to answer him. I decided not to ask about... whatever that was. Even zebras had access to magic, I kept telling myself.
"Good, very good indeed," he grinned. He took a moment of pause and continued, "Because I've your first assignment ready, if you'll take it so soon after your entry into the ranks of the Dignitary Auxiliaries -- the group of individuals like yourself that are now in my employ. You'll meet the others soon enough."
A mission? Already? I was no one to shy away from a duty given directly from a superior, but I... was exhausted. Granted, I'd been asleep for two days, and things had seemingly fallen into less volatile and mysterious circumstances. But if I accepted, would I just pick up and leave straight away? There were so many loose ends here...
My indecision must've showed on my face. "There it is again, that look. You sure you're not staving off a panic attack in there, hm?" he asked with a faint chuckle. I looked at him with a face contorted by the pangs of indecision. In my mind, I felt something grinding down on me, punishing me severely for my unruly and otherwise uncertain behavior. It was as if I'd been... tampered with, made to suffer more greatly for my doubts than I would have done to myself. Suddenly just not having a clear goal in mind hurt, bad.
Right after he posed the question, Vesperius' amused expression died off. "Oh my, you are, aren't you? Terrible inquiry on my part, I'm sorry. Lack of, ah... sensitivity. Anyway, rest assured that I'm no totalitarian. I won't order you to take it. As a DA, all your actions henceforth shall represent and uphold Roaman values -- you are a symbol to your people and to all others of what Roam is and can be. So while of course accomplishment of your missions would have great strategic value to me, you are first and foremost a diplomat. A diplomat to the hearts and minds of the countless souls residing in Roam's bountiful lands. I leave it up to you to always ask, 'What will make this place Roaman again?' and act on your conclusion. If you feel that, for the moment, doing nothing is the best course of action-..."
"No... no," I managed, and I was surprised at just how much difficulty I'd been starting to have just to breath. It all almost immediately went away the moment I made up my mind, as if my body had physically reacted to my decisiveness. At the time I just attributed it to my exhausted body, but... well...
"I can do it." I stood straight and recomposed myself. I spared a moment of thought for the idea that maybe I wasn't actually ready for this yet, that there were other more important things to tend to first... but none of that was true. That episode of fatigue aside, I was fit and able, and my top priority had always been to strive for a greater future for my people -- the Roamans, of whom Marediolanians were but a tiny fraction of. And surely I couldn't turn down an opportunity from the leader of the Legion himself, not without ruining his opinion of me. "I just need the details, sir."
He gave a sideways shrug. Then with one smooth move, he pulled another device from somewhere under his cape, turned it on without looking at it, and gave it to me. I had a feeling it was a gesture he'd performed many times before in the presence of -- as he called us, apparently -- 'Dignitary Auxiliaries'. I was one of them, now.
"All details are on this device. Yours and mine are linked through the Legion's communication network. This is a receive-and-report machine; its entire purpose is centered around you receiving my messages and responding to them. The interface is barebones. I needn't explain how to use it, for even a foal could figure it out. I should know. This model of durable, military-grade hardware was my first ever device."
He spoke with a monotone now, and quite obviously without enthusiasm. I thought that maybe I was the cause of his morose mood, but then I realized that it had been ten minutes since our conversation began -- the exact time he'd allotted for interacting with me. Even as I held the device gingerly in my hooves, I saw him glancing impatiently at a watch on his left forehoof.
He looked up at me and sighed tiredly. "I should go," he said, entrusting me with the Aquila once more. With a sleepy nod, he turned and trotted down a path leading up the gentle slope of a hill, upon which was pegged an enormous purple tent guarded by none other than more praetorian guards. Old broken columns and a piece of an ancient ceiling surrounded the tent around and above, making it seem as though the tent were partially caged.
"Busy guy," I muttered, lamenting his sorry state of being. Tired but working, oscillating between bouts of exhaustion and normalcy... it was as if he'd turned himself into a machine, segregating without discrimination his moods and manners between different timeslots, as if emotions and thoughts could be so easily organized. But hey, maybe that's how he liked to keep things. In both of his demeanors he exhibited a desire for control, for order. Who was I to judge, eh?
I turned to the device in my hooves. A small black square, basically, thick in make and with special indented slots in the rear for attachment to hooves. The screen was merely four inches across, and there were no buttons of any sort. The only features that broke the device's dull symmetry was a small antenna popping put from the upper right, and tiny solar panels along the top.
I gave the dark screen a tap, and it lit up to display a... a login page. A plain login page. There it asked for my name and settlement of origin. I provided those, and it next displayed a white page with nothing but two on-screen buttons. On the left, a white button that read 'MESSAGES', and on the right another white button titled 'COMPOSE'. The dullness with which this thing presented itself was almost physically exhausting. Barebones, he said; even a foal could use it, he said -- to think that I'd have to live the rest of my foreseeable life working with this.
If I sound resentful or otherwise without love for the notion of almost pure, functional simplicity, it's because I can't fathom the thought of how such an almost demoralizingly plain thing could ever coincide with the passion of fighting Roamans. Maybe it was just me, and Roaman legionaries before or since were okay with it. But to me the device gave off the vibe of a cold and distant Roam, a power to fight for but one which would only ever show its thanks in emotionless text. For soldiers in the field conducting dangerous longterm operations, such interaction with the empire couldn't possibly birth any inspiration. I liked my Roam close to my heart and always its proud and dignified nature, not some compartmentalized hunk of letter-displaying metal, thank you very much.
"Ugh. Alright, let's get this over with." I rolled my eyes and tapped on MESSAGES, and was presented with yet another utterly stripped-down user interface. There was one tiny envelope icon, titled 'Assignment 1 for Goldwreath'. It seemed Vesperius had been sure I would accept his offer to join the Legion; no way could he have put this here without utter surety. I tapped on the envelope icon and was greeted by this wall of text:
"Greetings, Goldwreath, and welcome to the Legion.
"If you are reading this, then I was correct in my assumption that you would join us. Chances are we spoke before that transpired. I can't know how that conversation went, but just know that I highly respect your dedication and determination. Your service record, per Thanus' reports from Marediolanon, show you to be an excellent Roaman in all aspects. I am honored to have you with us.
"Now, that there's my one-paragraph nicety/letter of accommodation/welcoming speech/congratulatory statement/notice of gratitude/informative note that I feel obliged to offer to all Dignitary Auxiliaries. Please don't feel like any of it is fake. Psychologists say that when compliments are given in such a manner, they might come off as condescending or insincere. This manner of communication is simply how I've learned to dole out information to others. I spend too little time outside.
"And that was my one paragraph apology/self-defense text, copied and given to every DA, including yourself. Please don't feel that the emotions behind it are fake, either.
"Now, onto business. Your mission is one of diplomatic repercussions. I will be succinct. You are to proceed down the hill, the Palatine hill, this hill, towards the camp. You will proceed to the garage for the armored vehicles and approach APC number five. It has a big five painted on its side in red paint. Inside you will find all necessary equipment -- namely, your guard armor, refurbished to suit your position as a pegasus DA; it basically has wing slots for you now. Your gladius has also been polished for continued use, and you are provided with standard firearms I'm sure your guard training will allow you usage of. The Aquila I hear you've been entrusted with by one of Thanus' will accompany you on this mission and onwards, indefinitely, until Thanus asks for its return.
"The driver will take you to your destination, four miles from here, to an urban community that has not yet accepted Legion jurisdiction. Your job is to deal with a recent commotion stirred up by the arrival of armed foreigners, not at all familiar to the Legion's limited knowledge of post-apocalyptic factions. We know they are foreigners because they have exhibited usage of plasma weaponry -- a staple of Equestrian troops during the war -- as well as powered infantry armor. They are also pegasus ponies. So, they look like Equestrians. They are armed like Equestrians. And in all likelihood, they also came from Equestria. They have shown violent tendencies, bordering on hostile. It is my hope that seeing one of their kind will calm them down sufficiently -- and is also why you are the only diplomat I am sending and are to not use your weapons unless necessary. You'll be provided with a detachment of bodyguards, but your purpose is purely diplomatic. Establish talks and negotiate any form of peaceful resolution that will lead to our understanding of them and their circumstances. Put your rhetoric to use. Thanus speaks highly of it.
"Now, I do not demand success. I do not even demand that you pursue this assignment. I demand nothing, really. These are jobs I would normally assign stretched resources and personnel to, and doing so would be completely normal to me and to them. The Legion stands ready to be without rest to do absolutely all it can for Roam, and for you by extension. That is our pride as the Roaman people, that we put our fellows ahead of ourselves in the hopes that we all propel each other to unparalleled achievements. You can very well just relax, and take some days to recuperate. If you decide on this, let me know so I may allocate resources to this anomaly. But in your Roaman heart, I don't think that's what you want to do. You will think of the countrymen willingly enduring for you, and you will want to pay them back.
"Here is your chance. Will you take it?"
***Roama Victrix***
"Just two miles out now. Guard detail, get ready back there. Dignitary, you'll be up in about five minutes. Try not to say anything that'll piss them off, alright? Alright..."
The somber atmosphere in the vehicle deepened. The driver had been one second away from yawning. The eight legionaries in the APC with me, all with baggy eyes and drooping heads, weren't any better off. Maybe Vesperius had just played to my emotions with his own rhetoric of civil duty, but this bunch sure looked like they'd been deployed and redeployed nonstop for who-knows-how-long.
I wanted to pay them back. A ploy by Vesperius or not, he was right. I couldn't possibly have hung back and pursued my own desires while my countrymen were sacrificing for me. Eventually, a sense of shame would've compelled me to action. I may not have been a zebra, but I was Roaman and my people needed me. All my life, I'd been giving too little of myself. Now, for the first time, I was going to perform my duty to Roam in a very direct and immediate manner. I was speeding towards the town of Via Oppidium (literally Imperial for 'Road Town') at twenty-four miles an hour to pacify a dangerous situation.
I was the one meant to deal with it; it scared me and excited me at the same time, for I knew the possible outcomes. It was in my accelerating heartbeat and on my sweat-coated face that I felt the rampaging anxiety. Now, I was all for acting based on ideals. My whole involvement in the wasteland centered on my desire to help the Roaman people. But for Vesperius to entrust to me a task with such weight... I couldn't help but question his decision to choose me.
Not that I myself had acted with any clear degree of prudence. After all, where is the wisdom in immediate acceptance of a difficult task with no thoughts regarding a plan, or even sensible refusal or postponement? I'd acted impulsively, swinging my entire being in favor of the first cohesive thought my mind formulated.
The most frustrating thing was that my impulses were becoming stronger. Since Spiderhole, I'd spent less time and effort on careful considerations. I wondered if maybe it was just the wasteland's demanding nature modifying my behavior. It was a reasonable hypothesis, and I settled for it. And yet somehow, I couldn't help but wonder...
For all my troubled brainstorming, I at least had my armor back. Thank the gods for that. I couldn't have withstood the anxiety without it. Jupiter only knows the kind of stuttering mess I'd have otherwise been. I kept smiling to myself though, trying to convince myself that all would be fine, that Delvius would look after things in my absence. He'd seemed so eager to help, so eager to earn my trust -- and though I wasn't sure of his motives, my anxious mind was glad for any assurance. I had no surety of my own ability to handle what was to come. But surely it couldn't go too badly, right? They were pegasi, after all. I was one of them.
That one thought replaced all others by the time the driver called in on one minute. I was a pegasi, a genetic anomaly in Marediolanon. Nobody there had ever treated me with prejudice, but there had always been questions. Mom and Dad weren't pegasi, and neither were their parents, or their parents' parents. The only pegasus in all of my family tree was the wife of my ancestor, the wartime Roaman orator Theodorus. I surely wasn't adopted from another family with closer ties to pegasi, and no way had I been brought in from the outside. Marediolanon had been sealed shut for centuries. As a colt, I'd never cared much. Wings were cool. But as I grew up... well, the more I'd thought, the more I'd questioned myself. Ultimately, I just had to live with the thought that I simply was.
Of course, my strange possession of wings would not assure me a warm welcome from my fellows in flight. I should have been excited. I loved the Roamans, but at last I would meet people who were actually like me. People in whose presence I wouldn't feel alienated by my physiology. The culture gap would be enormous, and if they were Equestrians then national animosity could be present, but surely mutual curiosity on both sides would prevail and lead to a peaceful exchange of information?
Suddenly the APC ground to a halt, and I rocked sideways and thumped against the metal interior. The others had already been braced for exit, shields up and weapons ready. I'd completely blanked out and missed the countdown to action. I could hear voices outside, an uproar of commotion. There were sizzling and splashing noises accompanying explosions, screams abundant in the chaos.
The interior of the APC blared an alarm, and the ramp crashed down against the pavement. The legionaries burst out to form a perimeter around the exit.
"Move it, legionaries! Defensive formation now, shields up!" The centurion glanced back at me, heavy pistol in hoof. "Dignitary! Anytime now."
I licked my dry my lips and kicked off my seat, heart hammering, hoping I wouldn't have to use the weapons strapped to my sides. I cantered out into the cover of the legionaries' shields, crunching stone beneath my hooves as I surveyed the scene.
Here was Via Oppidium: a town at a four-way intersection, composed of many sizable structures and the cross-shaped road in the center. Fences blocked off the four entrances, and were fortified with overhead walkways and machinegun emplacements. Sandbags lined the sidewalks, and overhead was a network of wires attached with various assorted devices -- lightbulbs for the nights, but also windchimes and, on lower wires, clothes and other personal effects.
But the town wasn't composed of the buildings themselves; no, those were in too terrible a shape to safely house a population, what with collapsed floors and ceilings -- they were instead used to secure the town's position, filled with their own impassable rubble to act as a barricade against the outside world. The real settlement was underground, and was composed of fissures and craters in the pavement. Roofed with steel torn from military vehicles, these irregularities in the ground appeared like bunkers and trenches, and a structure in the very center of the street was essentially a metal pyramid topped with a flag and armed with machineguns. Pipes criss-crossed the roads, disappearing into mounds of rubble, snaking up walls and crawling into muddy holes. Paths worn into the cement marked where the people would tread, heading up and down little stone ramps that lead into and out of the street. Here, all dwelling was done beneath the dirt.
It was good that the town be built in such a manner, for it was now subject to battle. I looked up and saw flashes of green energy blast overhead, liquefying portions of a tall building's wall. Molten rock oozed slowly down the sides and dripped sizzling onto the street. The metal ceilings of several subterranean abodes had been blasted, forcing the inhabitants to seek refuge amongst the rubble of the street. Alongside the cowering groups of zebras were guards, propped right against stone and sand bags.
"I thought the pegasi's behavior was only bordering on hostile!" I told the centurion, keeping my head low. "When did they decide to just start shooting?!"
From way across the street, far beyond the boundaries of the town, green energy -- plasma, I believed -- continued to fire relentlessly towards us. The operator of this fearsome weapon was well-established in the window of a low building. The barrage had no particular target, sweeping from side to side. Effective suppressing fire -- or just a triggerhappy gunner at work.
The centurion staggered back as his shield was blasted with a volley of green bolts. "Fuck if I know!" he shouted back. "I'm just on escort detail here; I don't know squat about the parameters of this operation!" He grunted and planted his legs firmly into the dirt. "Legionaries, line! Line!" he ordered.
The legionaries moved immediately, breaking their defensive semicircle in favor of a more directed protective formation. They rushed forward to the entrance, scuttling over rubble and evading fire, and formed a line that blocked off the town from the hail of destructive energy. Their Legion scuta were different from the shields we used back in Marediolanon; these were modified with spikes on both edges at the bottom, and these they used to slam into the cement and create a solid obstruction against the pegasus gunner's line of fire. Once safely behind their metal wall, the legionaries drew their own weapons and retaliated.
The streets were suddenly calm, and save the muted gunfire all was quiet. The distressed townsfolk soon came crawling out of their cover.
I cantered forward and met with the least shocked-looking guard in the bunch. "What happened here?" I asked.
The guard swallowed and shook his head. "We, uh... well, we wanted 'em out. Conductor, he asked them to leave. Said we couldn't help them. We had none of the materials they needed and nothing to spare. That pissed them off, oh yeah fuck it did. They were already in a bad mood when they came yesterday. Starved and beaten-looking. So they attacked -- bastards broke into our depot and took off just like that. Left that one fucker to pin us down and keep us from following... but they wouldn't leave one of their own, right? They couldn't have gone too far, anyway. Most of 'em were injured, in some way. Must've holed up somewhere they could fortify."
The centurion trotted up, giving his troops a passing glance. He didn't seem worried for them, and anyway they had handled the situation quickly and effectively. "So they went down that way, then?" he asked the guard and nodded off in the direction of the gunner. "Down that street?"
The shaken guard nodded. "About ten minutes ago... just before you arrived." The zebra's face tightened. "Makes me wonder if they knew you were coming, and if it made them act this way..."
I gave him a dumbfounded look. "You're blaming the Legion? For what?" I questioned. It may have come out more demandingly than I intended, for the guard balked. The centurion stepped closer to me, in support of my skepticism. The guard fidgeted.
"N-now, I can't speak for the-the whole town. I just uh, have an opinion, right? Right. So uh, uh, w-well-..."
A pony stepped forward; his coat a pale, sandy yellow and his mane and tail the color of butter. His brown eyes looked over at us with concern before turning to the guard.
"Calm down there, son. I'll take it from here, alright? Go check on the others," he told the guard, who was all too eager to take the order and leave. The pony gave me a small frown. "You needn't give my boys such a look. You scare people, you Legion types. Might wanna look into that is all I'm saying."
I realized I'd been scowling, and that a heavy loathing had settled on mind. I hadn't intended any of it. My subconscious simply hadn't taken kindly to some random zebra criticizing soldiers who'd obviously worked their flanks off. I dispersed the anger and took a breath.
"Apologies. I suppose I wasn't aware of myself there," I said. "Make no mistake, my intentions are purely diplomatic. I don't aim to start anything. My job is to just get those pegasi over there on the negotiating table. This is unnecessary violence." I scowled and glanced over at the gunner, still blasting away. "Though my own kin don't seem to think so... disappointing," I grumbled, shaking my head.
"Kin?" The pony gave a quick look-over and spotted my wings. "Oh, well now! That there's a surprise. So the Legion sends a pegasus diplomat to deal with pegasus ruffians... okay, I'll admit that's impressive. You people must have a lot of resources."
"Eh, not as much as you'd think, pal..." the centurion mumbled. Now that the immediate danger had passed and the adrenaline had faded, he'd started to sway on his hooves, his eyes struggling to stay open. Clearly he hadn't slept in days. I was faced with a dilemma: here was an officer clearly unfit to take command, and he had to find somewhere safe to take some badly needed rest. But if he was out of it, who'd lead his troops? Me? I hardly qualified to lead anyone, least of all professional legionaries. But there didn't seem to be much else to do.
The pony and I, we'd noticed the centurion's drowsiness straight away. A silent agreement passed between us: this officer was of no use like this. Best to let him off somewhere.
The pony cleared his throat and called, "Zanus, Therum. Take our friend here to the infirmary please. No medical attention, no. Just a bed."
The centurion's sluggish reaction was testament to his condition. He only understood once two of the town guards each grabbed him by a forehoof and dragged him off.
"Hey, w-what? No, I don't need a damn bed. Get your wastelander hooves off me you damn inbreds! My troops need me," he slurred, sleepily yanking at his hooves, but his body clearly knew what it needed and he didn't do much else.
"Poor sod," the pony said, shaking his head as he watched the officer dragged off. He turned back at me and noticed my skeptical look. He sighed.
"Look, you're clearly the representative here -- the diplomat, or emissary, or whatever you like to call it," he said. "So I'll make it clear that I don't hate the Legion. This town doesn't hate the Legion. But there are those who do, and we simply can't take sides. You people are off making war on hundreds of different groups in the name of reclaiming the land, and you know, that's... admirable. The killing... not so... but the goal is. It's just that even with all your fancy tech, I don't think you can succeed. It's a big wasteland. Not even with ten-thousand soldiers could you do it. It is folly. If your operations come crashing down, I don't want my settlement on anyone's hate-list. Now, you said you came here to deal with these pegasi, and thank goodness for that. But just in case you've got some other agenda, know this now: we won't join you. Not now at least. I'm sorry."
I stood there, not quite sure what to say. I suspect that if I were a true Legion diplomat, knowledgeable in all current affairs and sent to Via Oppidium with the sneaky intention of persuading them to my cause, then I'd have been utterly disappointed and had my morale brought low. But of course I knew nothing of how the Legion was actually faring in the wider wasteland, and it was expressly for the pegasi that I'd been sent here. So I wasn't as emotionally downed as I could have been.
"Well, I'll be sure to let my lord Vesperius know," I told him. "But I was sent here to deal with my kin, not to reel you into an alliance you don't want. The Legion may approach you again, for they need all the help they can get, yes... but I won't bother you with that. You have my word."
He nodded, relief flooding his features. "Alright, alright. Thank you for not pushing it. Now please, just... get rid of these damn foreigners so I can get my town back in order."
I looked off towards the legionaries, still trading shots with the pegasus gunner. "Of course. My kin here clearly aren't open to negotiation as it is. They have to be subdued. Starting with that one..." I glared at the barely-visible pegasus, still firing away from his spot in a hole in the side of a building.
"Anything we can do?" the pony asked. "My guards are shaken, but they can help. Tell me what you need."
"Right now, nothing," I replied, stretching my wings ever so carefully. Delvius was right, they had healed quite nicely indeed. "Let your people focus on repairing this damage. We are here now, and we will deal with the pegasi. You've held out and did your best, I presume, to keep the violence to a minimum. That is enough."
But as I formulated a plan to knock out the gunner, I realized I knew not the pony's name. "Ah yes. Well, per common courtesy, I'd like to know your name."
"Fair enough," he replied. "I suppose we had missed out on introductions. Conductor, that's me. Current mayor of Road Town, as folks here like to call it. Via Oppidium just doesn't have the same ring to it."
"Well met, Conductor. I am Goldwreath," I replied, holding out a hoof for him. He shook it firmly and bowed his head courteously. I did the same.
As we shook hooves, it dawned on me that my involvement with the Legion would henceforth have me undertake numerous missions of diplomatic context, of which this was merely the first. Indeed, my whole life as I saw it was now at the service of Vesperius. I was anchored to his orders... and that wasn't so bad. Such direction was better than I'd thought my wasteland life to become: chaotic and uncertain, moving from place to place on vigilante business. With the Legion I had a job; a job in line with what I desired, no less. I found myself upon a fortuitous position, one abundant with opportunity and possibility. I had skills, for which I had apparently earned the favor of various Legion officials. Now, I couldn't say for certain if my abilities were as exemplary as they made them out to be. But I was a Dignitary Auxiliary now, which meant I was one of Vesperius' emergency personnel, to be sent off on jobs with no prior warning. Granted that I was supposedly under no obligation to carry them out... but I could hardly live with myself that way. To me, there was no refusing.
I knew not what my future would hold, except increasingly tougher challenges. My skills would need practice to be up to the task. And so as Conductor and I lowered our hooves, I resolved to take every opportunity to test myself.
I chose my next words carefully, intent on immediately developing a functioning diplomatic persona -- one that I would turn myself into whilst in jobs, and, perhaps, even outside of them.
"Take comfort, now," I told him. "I do not know the business of these pegasi in this land, or indeed what freak circumstance has lead to their violence -- but all well and the same, per my duty to nation and people, I shall resolve the situation. Hopefully with no bloodshed, but if such is necessary, then so be it."
We bade our farewells, and at last I departed from his presence and trotted off to the legionaries. They'd done well keeping the gunner's attention, but now it was time to end this farce. Step one was to subdue the triggerhappy pegasus and draw from him the locations of the others -- and I knew just how to proceed.
Approaching from the side, well out of the pegasus' sight, I took cover behind some sandbags just next to the legionaries' shield wall. I eyed the nearest shield.
"I'll be borrowing this," I told one of the legionaries as I yanked the thing out of the ground, then as quickly as I could I dived back out of sight and strapped it to a forehoof.
The legionary nodded and, seeming to understand my intentions, shouted over the cacophony of noise, "Lay down suppressing fire! Nonstop bullets, that direction!"
The ensuing racket was deafening. The green bolts ceased blasting in our direction as the pegasus gunner disappeared beneath cover.
This was my chance. Firstly, I planted the Aquila in the dirt to leave it behind in safety. Then with one forceful leap I took to the air, flapping hard and fast as I made my way around Road Town's walls of debris. I was heavy and slow, but unseen and prepared for combat. Already I was approaching the gunner's position, and as I neared put every ounce of strength I could muster into my wings. The effort was brutal on my recently-recovered appendages, but I pressed on. Holding the shield in front of me, I aimed for a section of wall that was rickety and weak -- almost nothing but the rotten wood of the buildings skeleton. Beyond it, I knew, was the pegasus.
I braced myself. Having reached maximum velocity, I screamed at the top of my lungs. In a blur of splinters and stone, I crashed into the building.
The impact broke my momentum, sending me rolling over the floor. I came to a stop hard against a wall, dazed and with a tremendous ringing in my ears. Dust had blown everywhere. I shook my head.
I heard coughing nearby and groggily turned to look. Through clouds of dust I saw a figure armored in black plates viciously shaped like carapace. It stood a ways off, stumbling around and tripping over debris. Its head swayed dizzily atop its body, but I saw its eyes: orange, divided into hundreds of tiny hexagons -- again, like that of an insect. It sported a long tail clad in the same black plates, though at the end was a sharp point almost like a stinger. Despite all these strange cosmetics, I knew I was looking at a pegasus. The extensions on the sides, though covered in a thick mesh of black fiber, were undoubtedly wings.
The pegasus flopped to the ground and groaned -- she was clearly a mare. Her helmet-clad head rested mere feet from me. Then she noticed me and turned those disturbing orange eyes in my direction. We stared for a moment, unmoving and uncertain. All throughout, I wondered if maybe I'd successfully knocked her out of fighting shape with my risky divebomb crash alone. I'd have been glad if I had, because that was a stupidly painful tactic that I had no intention of repeating. I didn't even know why I'd tried it.
But then she got up, quick as lightning, and I knew straightaway that I was in for a fight. I rose to my hooves, shield at the ready -- and luckily so. For though she had her back turned to me, her tail whipped and stabbed, smashing itself repeatedly against my defense. I jumped back, out of its range, and leapt into the air, swinging the heavy shield overhead. The mare just barely managed to avoid getting crushed with a scutum that must've weighed at least half my own weight. She rolled to the side as I yanked the shield out of the floor.
I went on the offensive, bracing the shield right against my body as I charged her like a bull. To my surprise she ran straight at me. With one smooth motion she leapt over me, and with her own wings slowed herself down just enough so she had time to kick me in the back. I fell to the floor in a heap, cursing.
The mare laughed. "Damn, boy!" she jeered, her voice filled with equal parts cockiness and amusement. "You gotta lose some weight. Ain't right for a pegasus to get thrown around like a sack of bricks!" She spared a glance at the wall I'd busted down. "And where the hell'd you learn to use your wings, eh?"
Her voice irritated me, oh it so irritated me. To taunt an opponent during a fight... what a cocky bitch. I didn't bother to respond. She was faster than me -- I knew it and she knew it. If I could only corner, her, though... and, yes, maybe lose some weight...
I got up deliberately slowly, and she circled me cautiously, taking every opportunity to call me some variation of 'heavy' or 'fat'. She could have run away. She could have flown off to warn the others in her group. But she decided to stay behind to fight me -- a telltale sign of pride. She wanted to beat me just because. She wanted something to brag about, something to taunt me over. This mare and ruffians back in Marediolanon weren't so different. Egocentric and reckless... good.
I stood still as she circled me. Her stinger tail was raised, ready to stab. But for all her bravado, she at least knew that so long as I had my shield I could block whatever attack she could throw my way. If my objective was to corner her, her objective was to disarm me. It came wholly unexpected to her, then, that I would disarm myself.
I swung the shield in a wide arc and tossed it right at her. She dodged it easily, leaping up and hovering in the air as the shield broke the wall behind her. Her surprise was evident -- for a short moment, she stared in bafflement at the hunk of metal sticking out of the cement instead of at me. It was all the time I needed.
I charged forward again, jumping up and tackling her right out of the air. We crashed to the wooden floor, and with all my weight I pinned her down. She struggled, trying to shove me off with her hooves, her stinger tail in full effect -- whipping and stabbing in a frenzy like some kind of rabid tentacle. One stab caught me right in the shoulder, but luckily my pauldrons had bent the very tip of the blade. It was stuck to my shoulderplates.
I planted a hoof on her throat and pressed down, forcing her to focus on trying to get it off. While she was distracted, I pulled out my gladius and, ionizing the blade, severed her stinger tail completely from the rest of her armored body. Now, I had no intentions of killing her (though she'd made the idea tempting), so I tossed my blade aside and focused on keeping her down.
"Stop struggling! All I wanted was to talk to you people!" I shouted at her. Then one of her hooves broke free and she punched me square in the face. I tasted blood.
"Yeah, eat shit you lumbering jackass!" she spat.
Ooooh, she was making hurting her so tempting. So, so tempting. Something about these brash types had always pissed me off. They just wouldn't stop even when they'd lost.
I put all my weight on her throat again. I couldn't choke her. Her armor prevented it. I could at best make breathing seriously difficult for her, nothing more. But she instinctively went into overdrive trying to secure her oxygen anyway. I was much heavier than her, and with her hooves bound up in the futile effort of pushing just one of my limbs off her neck, I proceeded to undo the straps that bound her helmet to her. The task required no small amount of punching her in the face just to give me leverage and time, but at last I did it.
I threw her helmet off and looked into her fiery orange eyes. Here was my first look at this infuriatingly stubborn mare. Her long, orange mane had yellow highlights that went rather well with her equally yellow coat. Now, I'll give credit where it's due: she was pretty, very much so actually. If we weren't enemies and she had Myst's personality...
"Get off me you fucking piece of shit! I swear to Celestia I'll tear your nuts off!"
... which was extremely unlikely, I'd have had no shame in saying I would've been wildly attracted to her. But as it was, she was just a troublesome ruffian that I had the misfortune of dealing with.
She clearly wouldn't give up this fruitless fight as long as she was conscious. Also, and I can't stress this enough, her nonstop stream of profanity and insults were really getting old. So at last I pulled her close and, with great glee, butted her in the face with my helmet. She was knocked out instantly, finally laying limp on the floor, her nose trailing blood. I sat atop her, panting.
"Good gods," I said, "Shut up!"
I got up unsteadily, staggering. I walked over to the big hole she'd been firing out of and waved at the legionaries. They immediately broke down their fortifications and rushed over. Some citizens of Road Town cheered.
I sat heavily on the rubble, breathing hard. I glanced at the unconscious mare.
Now for my least-favorite part of any after-scuffle procedure. Interrogation time.
***Roama Victrix***
"Alright. Do it," I said, holding a cloth to my bloodied lip.
A legionary stepped forward, and with his helmet dumped water over the mare's face. She awoke, coughing and gagging. Her eyes fluttered for a moment. Then she saw me and her expression turned furious. She lunged.
Of course, she was tied to the wall. Her momentum only served to hurt her as her limbs were yanked back by the ropes (which I'd intentionally tied loosely so's to give her some freedom of movement; too tightly bound and she may have been too panicked to cooperate). She yelped and fell to the floor, panting and eyeing me with a blazing fury.
I sighed and stepped forward, tossing the cloth aside. The legionaries stood on guard just in case her friends showed up. Conductor had arrived with them just so he could take a look at the mare who'd blasted his town apart.
I knelt down and looked into her eyes. My irritation and disappointment in her and her fellows had subsided, dampened by my exhaustion. I just wanted this mission over with.
"I really, really didn't want to have to fight," I told her. "But you left me no choice. I'll be honest. I was sent here specifically to bring your group to the negotiating table. Then I arrive and see you firing away at a town full of people -- of course I had to stop it. But you're disarmed now and that means I can finally try some diplomacy. So... what's your name?"
Unsurprisingly, she resisted. She spat at me, but I'd practiced dodging such a move far too many times before. The legionary behind me clearly hadn't. He staggered back, clutching at his eyes. One of his friends approached, ready to smash the mare's face in with his shield. She shrank back as I stood to meet him.
"That won't be necessary!" I said, holding a hoof to the soldier's chest. He fumed at her. "Just... put that away, alright?"
Reluctantly, he did. But he cast the mare a hateful glare that clearly said, 'One more time, and you're dead.' Of course, the whole thing was just an act. Before we woke her up, I'd instructed the legionaries to act menacing so that my own patient demeanor would stand out -- and as long as the mare's focus was on me, she'd eventually open up. It was basic interrogation strategy.
I turned around and faced the mare again. "Come on, now," I said softly. "What will it take to get you people to talk to me? Here's what I know: all of a sudden, a bunch of pegasi show up in some town and start causing trouble. That the full story or not? I'll be fair. You go ahead and tell me what happened. How's that, huh?"
Somehow, that seemed to placate her. She backed away, her expression less crazed. But as I looked over her I noticed just how thin and unkempt she was. She clearly hadn't had an easy time the past few days -- probably had little to eat and almost no sleep. If all of this havoc had been done out of desperation like I'd been led to believe, then perhaps I couldn't begrudge her too much. Not until I knew just how bad her circumstances were.
She passed a wary eye over us, her gaze lingering on my armor. "Tell me who you are first," she said, her voice now much more timid and soft. Normally, I wouldn't have satisfied such a request -- I was the one in charge here, not her. But given how pathetic she was, stripped of her equipment and tied to a wall, I decided to just play along.
"Me? My name is Goldwreath. And yes, I'm a pegasus. I serve the Legion, the primary regional power in this part of the Roaman wasteland. They aim to reclaim what was lost in the war between our two peoples, long long ago. And I suppose... your own group, from Equestria? That right? I suppose they aim to do the same."
She gave a few tiny nods. "Yeah. You could say that..." She cleared her throat, but said nothing else. As expected. Obviously, she didn't trust us. But she had at least calmed down. Had we taken the more forceful approach to this interrogation, she could very well have kept her mouth shut all the way to the grave. Sometimes you just had be gentle with these things.
At length, she spoke, "Look, uh... there's really no dignified way to put it, so I'll just say it. My friends and I, the other pegasi... we uh, we're... outcasts." She looked up at me with a scowl. "But we're not the bad guys! All we wanted was to change things a little with our government. Make things more fair for everyone. But when you're just a bunch of grunts, what you say doesn't mean shit. You have no power. Still, we were a threat. So we were cut off. Thrown out of our own homes like trash."
She took in a shaky breath, her eyes going red. "And you know, we were okay with that... sort of. We were free to do what we wanted, and for a while things were okay. Supplies were a problem, though. After a few weeks, we started running low on everything from food to power cells. And you're right, yeah we're from Equestria... but, shit, most of that place hasn't got squat. Whatever resources there are are possessed by a few powerful factions, and we're just one squad. So in the end, we just took a risk. Roam was just a day's flight away, but we heard the place was mostly intact. When we saw it, we thought we'd hit a goldmine. Finally, a place we could live in where we could survive and follow our own morals. Unluckily for us, though, we ran out of power. Had to land in that town... and to say that the townsfolk were scared of us, hell that'd be an understatement."
Conductor growled. "You attacked my people and plundered our supplies. Our hard-earned supplies! It was a lot, but it wasn't easy to secure. Do you have any idea how long it'll take us to recover from those losses? My town may as well sell itself just to get by!"
The mare trembled, pulling herself into a little ball. "L-look, I'm sorry. We didn't want to, but-..."
"But you did, anyway," Conductor snapped. He sighed and rubbed a hoof over his face. "If you people were so desperate, you ought to have played it smart. Asked nicely. Of course no one would help you! And why would they, when you point plasma rifles at their faces and fly around, breaking into their homes and looting their possessions? The only difference between you and raiders is that they take joy in doing these things. But the acts are the same, and you should have known better."
A tense silence smothered the next few moments. Oh no, the mare didn't cry. Even humiliated and bound, she just had far too much pride. But she looked away from us and shut her eyes, muffling her throaty sobs.
I turned to Conductor and whispered, "Alright, you've said your piece. That's enough. We'll get your supplies back, or maybe I can ask my lord Vesperius to reimburse you... I don't know. Just... let it go for now."
He grumbled and scowled, but nonetheless gave me a nod. He left promptly to tend to his damaged settlement.
Okay, so I now had much to digest. Quite a lot, indeed. An apparently functioning but dystopian Equestrian government... powerful factions monopolizing precious resources... but I could do nothing about those. The Legion couldn't, not even if it had gained control of all Roaman lands and secured its position. Equestria's problems were its own, and to mean anything, success would have to come from them.
I pulled out the device Vesperius gave me and began typing my report on recent events. The mare had calmed down and was now looking up at me, her eyes full of confusion and sadness.
"So what now?" she asked hoarsely, stifling a sniff.
"Now?" I put the device away and sighed. "Well, now I'm supposed to find the rest of your squad and take you with me to the nearby Legion camp. There the Legion's leader himself would pass judgement. Afterwards? Well, you might spend some time in a jail... or maybe you'd be obligated to make amends through service to the Roaman people."
"Service to the... w-what do you mean?" she stammered. "Like, work for you guys? Go around on jobs and shit?"
"Huh, what? Oh. Well, you know, it's just what could happen. I just brought up the possibility, I can't guarantee it." She looked up at me with an intrigued glimmer in her eyes, though. In fact, her voice hadn't indicated any objection or dismay. "Why? You actually considering it?"
She rubbed her hooves and her shoulders. She pursed her lips, her face contorted by thought. "Well, I... I sure wouldn't mind having something to do... if it meant I could earn enough to, you know, keep my friends alive..."
Oh. She actually was considering it. I didn't think she would... but she was. A slightly pleasant surprise. But as glad as I was at her acceptance of an offer I made (unwittingly), ultimately I wasn't the one to make that call.
"Slow down there," I told her, kneeling down to look her right in the eyes. "Yes, I do suggest you turn yourselves over to the Legion. We're fair, and will treat you with justice and respect. At the very least, you'd be kept alive in our custody -- and that would certainly be better than flying around the land, tearing into settlements and causing destruction just to pilfer a few weeks' worth of supplies. It's just not practical, and it certainly isn't civil. But a job? Earning pay? Ahaha, well... I'll not laugh at you for wanting to earn a keep. But I can't make that call."
"Who do I talk to, then?" the mare pressed, her spirit unhindered.
The legionaries looked to one another, shrugging and otherwise expressing their thoughts in subtle gestures. A few looked disapproving; others snickered. It wasn't their place to speak their opinions on the matter, yes, but given how odd things had become I wouldn't have minded some feedback and advice.
"Uh, I... I, uh..." I cleared my throat. "Well, my lord Vesperius is in charge of the Legion. I suppose, if you're dead serious... you could talk to him."
"Then I will!" she replied eagerly. "Fuck, anything's gotta be better than the agonizingly slow death we're staring in the face right now. And... you keep telling me that we'll be treated fairly. Can you promise that?" the mare asked, a desperate hope in her tone. "See, my group's... we're not doing too well. Not at all."
I shook my head in disbelief, and she frowned. I quickly corrected myself.
"No! No, no. I wasn't shaking my head to tell you I couldn't promise. I'm just having a... a hard time believing what I'm seeing and hearing. A pegasus mare and her friends come barreling out of the blue and raise hell... then suddenly she wants to work for us? I mean, it's good! You want to keep your friends alive by offering your services as payment... I can relate. Really." I took a step back and rubbed a hoof over my face.
"But... promises. I don't want to promise, but I can say some things with near certainly. You will be treated fairly, and my lord Vesperius will at least hear your case. But I can't be sure of your future should you go down this path. You know the wasteland. Probably better than I do, I think. You know death can come any time. If you can deal with that, then the prospects aren't too bleak otherwise."
She looked down at the dirt and swallowed, nodding. Then she glanced to the side and spotted her helmet. "I guess I should get the others, then... give me my helmet?" she requested. I obliged.
She held the helmet in her hooves for a moment. Hesitation was etched on her face. She was about to turn her friends in, without their consent, in order to save them. She could very well lose their friendship... and yet it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. She was so different from the loud and cocky mare I'd eagerly beaten up earlier; this was surely the nobler side of her. Even if her fellows would come to hate her for what she did, I promised myself I never would. A traitor, some might call her. But I considered her a hero in her own right. What a hypocrite I would be, after all, if I came to loathe her action of necessity. I'd acted no differently when I needed Marediolanon in the Legion' favor. She had my full support.
At last she put it on, and taking a deep breath, she spoke.
"Hey. Hey, Breezetail? You there? Oh, great! ... yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Calm down there, big guy, calm down." She laughed nervously. "So hey listen... I had to move position. The local guards were starting to get smart. And actually, I found a basement filled with all sorts of useful shit. A whole cabinet full of canned supplies... all of it still good. There's also some spare parts here, too heavy for me to lift alone.
"I'll need your help," she continued, looking straight at me with those big orange eyes. From the catch in her voice, I could tell she wasn't proud of what she was doing one bit. "Actually... I'll need all of you. We might even want to move into this place. There's just... so many surprises here. Nice surprises...
"It's just three blocks west of where you left me. I'll be waiting outside... okay? Yeah. Yeah... bye."
She took the helmet off and wiped her nose and looked up at me with puffy eyes -- clearly going through with that had done a number on her emotions. But she just said, "We should go, quickly."
"You're sure they believed you?" It was a painful question, but one I had to ask.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
"Alright then." I motioned for two legionaries to untie her. The rest of us filed out and began to move. If we were going to ambush a squad of pegasi, we had to be prepared.
***Roama Victrix***
"Here," Skyfire told me, handing me a tiny black oval made of metal with luminous blue lines running over the surface. "You'll need this."
Yes, Skyfire. She'd finally told me her name. In the quiet minutes of waiting we'd spent at the location of her choice, she saw fit to introduce herself. The move caught me by surprise. She'd had to spill her guts regarding her circumstances -- it was information she'd needed to surrender to me, her interrogator, in order to justify her actions in the eyes of Legion authority; authority which, I made clear to her, she would have to operate under if she insisted on staying in the Roaman wasteland. But her name, well now, she could have held that back for much longer. That she chose to tell me at all made me smile inside. At least, it seemed, there was no lingering personal animosity between us. She wasn't my friend, but that could change if circumstances permitted.
I took the object from her. "And this is...?"
She sucked in a breath. "EMP grenade. My last one. When the others arrive, I'll try to bunch them up. Then you just hit the top of that thing, throw it, and then..." She trailed off, hanging her head.
I looked up at the sky. "Look, this whole thing was just a suggestion. You wouldn't be considered Legion enemies just because you won't submit. You can still stop this."
"And then what?" she replied. "I hate what I'm about to do, hell yeah. As if that wasn't obvious enough. But... shit, if we don't get help, we're going to die. You were right -- we can't go around pillaging places just to survive. This land is our home now, whether we like it or not. If we don't find a place here, among all the factions and powers, we'll be easy prey. One squad of pegasi in an unknown land? We won't stand a chance."
"Granted. But why do this? Why not just talk to them, convince them to surrender themselves over to the Legion?"
She smirked sullenly, shaking her head. "Fuck. You know nothing, Goldwreath... tell me, you think I'm stubborn? Hardheaded?"
"Can't be too hardheaded. I knocked you out with one headbutt."
She rolled her eyes. "Right. Well thing is, my squad got kicked out of our government for being stubborn. Damn stubborn. I was their newest member... and the least thick-skulled of the bunch, I think. So unless you want to have to pin each of them down one by one and knock them out so you can tie them up and convince them yourself... it just isn't going to happen. They're good people, Goldwreath. Good enough that I was okay with getting exiled just to be with them. They're my family, and I love them. But they're stubborn and always will be. It's that simple."
She looked right into my eyes. "Also, truth be told, I knew we were still screwed even if we got here in one piece. We were just too badly equipped, too badly supplied. And we had no plan. So in a way... you coming over to knock my ass out was exactly what we needed. You've given us an escape. I'm not stupid. It's the best we've got, and if it works as you say it will, we may just get to die free and happy."
Then her eyes hardened, and she stepped dangerously close to me. "But," she said lowly, "If it doesn't... if you're a liar, if my friends and I get made into slaves or tortured for fun... then I'll make it my one and only goal to end you. You will know pain before it is over. Got it?"
I hadn't lied, of course. And I was quite certain Vesperius wouldn't even think of harming them in any undignified way. But just knowing the threat was there, just knowing that she would follow through with it at the slightest fuckup on the Legion's end... well, let's just say I prayed to the gods that all would go smoothly. I nodded.
"Good." Having spoken her mind, she allowed her expression to soften. She even smiled. "I'm glad. Cause you're the first Roaman I've met that seems decent, and I'd hate to have had to tear your head off. You're okay, Goldwreath."
"Er... thanks?" I shook my head. Was it just me or was she warming up to me awfully quickly? At least, unusually quickly considering how we met and what we'd done to each other since. What, just me? Oh, okay.
"But anyway, I really ought to get ready. One mistake here and there'll be a lot of blood. And I'm sure neither of us wants that."
She nodded vigorously. "As if it needs to be said. Go on, then. I'll wait here and... practice apologizing." She gave a half-hearted laugh and a nervous grin. The guilt and anxiety eating away at her must've been enormous.
I flew up to the second floor of a nearby building. One of the eight legionaries was posted here; the others had taken up positions nearby.
The legionary asked me as I approached, "Kill protocol still in effect, dignitary?"
By that he meant the standard procedure of keeping a gun trained on the head of someone you couldn't trust. It certainly wasn't a procedure I approved of, nor was it an order I'd given him. But though Skyfire had turned out to be a much more reasonable and far-thinking mare than I'd imagined, the fact was that she was still very capable of screwing us over. She and all her pegasus friends. So though I didn't like it, I said, "Yes."
He nodded and spoke into his radio, "Alright guys, kill protocol still active. When the pegasi show up, pick your targets. Anything goes wrong, we pop their heads."
I trotted to a nearby window and watched the sky and the streets, hoping that the protocol wouldn't have to be used. All the while we waited, Skyfire just stood there in the middle of the street, head hung low. I'd left her early because I knew she needed time to come to terms with what she was about to do, even if her 'betrayal' would ultimately benefit both her and her fellows. Given time, her friends would appreciate what she'd had to do.
Ah. And speaking of friends...
"Targets approaching from the south, two-hundred meters. They're on the ground, repeat, on the ground." The legionary carefully aimed his rifle out the window.
Indeed, there the pegasi were: cantering from the southern road, clad head to hoof in black armor, green-glowing weapons attached to their sides like great big cannons. They maintained a formation of loose spacing as they moved. Those closest to the buildings kept their eyes open, while those to the rear were jogging backwards to keep sight of their vulnerable flanks. One pegasus, the only one capable of flight it seemed, circled overhead. I counted six in total.
"Okay, one in the air. I've got sights on him," the legionary whispered. Listening to his commentary on picking targets was unnerving me -- no one is going to have to die, I kept telling myself. I prepared the EMP grenade as they approached. One of them called out in greeting.
"Skyfire! Oh, Celestia, you had us worried there." That was the one in front. He broke into a gallop and rushed forward, tackling Skyfire in a big embrace. The others caught up, equally jolly at having met up with their comrade. Seeing them embrace her, hearing them laugh... it made me feel guilty for suggesting this course of action in the first place. I couldn't imagine how it was for Skyfire.
Most of the conversations were too far away to hear, but generally there was lots of cheering and relief. As time went on, I started to notice signs of the terrible condition they were in: most of them moved slowly, weakly, their bodies sagging and limp; others were equipped with weapons that didn't even seem to have any power or ammo; and still, a couple of them didn't have weapons at all, and their armor appeared broken, barely clinging to their hides. I had no about things were as desperate as Skyfire said they were.
As they spoke, one question stood out audibly from the rest of the chatter:
"Hey, Skyfire... where's all your equipment?"
Where indeed. We'd left Skyfire's stuff behind in the APC. At the time, we considered it insurance: without her armor or weapons, she'd have been stupid to try to run away. But now I was wondering if maybe we should have let keep her stuff so's to prevent any suspicion.
Luckily, Skyfire improvised. "Oh, what? Those? I uh, I kept them... in the basement! I started making some field repairs." She pointed at the building I was in. The legionary and I ducked out of sight. "Just over there. Come on, I'll... I'll show you what I found."
I heard them approach. My heart went into overdrive. The quickness with which my face was doused in sweat was astonishing. The metal of the EMP grenade was cold to my hooves.
"Aw yeah, one hell of a find, Sky's! Canned food and other shit, right? Finally. Celestia, when was the last time we even had canned food?" one of them asked -- another mare, and one that, astonishingly, sounded even more brash and cocky than Skyfire. I didn't think it was possible.
"Back at the Enclave," a stallion replied. "Canned beans. Covered in a sweet sauce."
"Shut up! No need to remind me... I can feel my stomach digesting itself," the mare responded. They were right below us now. "So, where's the basement door?"
"Uh, well, y-you know, it's... hidden! Actually, it was electronically locked. But I'm sure that with an EMP grenade, we can open it up."
The Legionary and I locked eyes. In his face was the same pulse-straining anxiety as was in me. It was time. I struck the top of the grenade and tossed it out the window.
Confused chatter came from below.
"An EMP for a door?" the mare questioned. "What? As if we can just pull something like that out of our asses... oh hey, look an EMP grenade! Ain't that just lucky?"
Then an odd noise filled the air, along with an electric blue light that shone into the window. It was as if a thousand wires short-circuited all at once, crackling and sizzling. Six metallic thumps followed.
It worked! I stood straight up and jumped out the window, landing with a heavy thud onto the street. The Legionaries came rushing in from their positions, their rifles ready.
The six pegasi struggled in their defunct power armor, but they accomplished nothing. One saw me approach and threw a fit, actually managing to get up. A legionary raised his gun, but I just shook my head. Though sleek and light-looking, the suits of armor these pegasi donned clearly relied on electronics and gears to enhance movement. The EMP had fried those, locking the joints and servos. These people were no threat like this.
"By Celestia, we're under attack!" That was the one who'd been in the front, the stallion who'd ran to Skyfire. He tried to charge at me, but his movements were restricted to awkward, jerky spasms. He fell down again. "Shit! Now listen here you SoB, you don't have a clue who you're messing with. Captain Breezetail of the Enclave reconnaissance, and you'll have Raptors on your ass if you so much as touch us. Back off, pal!"
I eyed them for a moment, then looked up and saw Skyfire standing a ways off. Her face was agonized, caught between shriveling guilt and choking worry. None of her decrepit friends had noticed her yet. And when they did, and found out her involvement...
I was in no rush to let them realize her actions. For Skyfire's sake, I'd try to keep them in the dark for as long as possible. So I had the legionaries pile them in a heap further away, facing away from Skyfire. Then I bade them radio the APC. Our business here was done.
They fought, of course. They knew not that they weren't in any danger. Even as they were hauled and put in sitting positions on one side of the APC's cabin, they kicked and flailed, and cursed and screamed. Not that any of their struggles really did anything, other than maybe making the whole ordeal all the more traumatizing for Skyfire to watch.
I approached her. "Whenever you're ready," I said softly, and with that I turned and entered the APC. I took my seat alongside the other legionaries (and the recently awoken centurion, who looked in bafflement at the new passengers). Opposite me was the stallion Breezetail. Captain Breezetail. Presumably the leader of this bunch. Now I couldn't see his eyes, but I was sure he was giving me nothing short of deathly, hateful glares.
He said nothing to me; the others were more vocal. Lots of swearing and defiant boasts. Oh, I had no trouble believing these people were harder in the head than Skyfire was. But they shut up when Skyfire entered the vehicle and took a seat next to me, quietly and solemnly. I could almost hear the gears in their heads turning.
"Skyfire?" Breezetail asked. "You... w-what have you done?"
The door to the APC closed shut, and we were on the road. Skyfire was silent to his question. There was nothing to do; I opened up my device and finished my report to Vesperius.
This was going to be a long... long ride.
Entry #8 I'm officially a Professional now. I got through the two-month observation period with the centuria, which means... hell yeah, I'm getting paid for work! Sorry Mom, sorry Dad, but your boy wants to buy his own stuff now.
Unique dialogue options with certain characters; unlocked Legion quests, assets, and rank progression. +1 to Charisma and +5 to Speech.
Chapter XI Making Ready "He is best secure from dangers who is on his guard even when he seems safe."
The tension was suffocating.
We hadn't gotten too far away from Road Town before I finished my report and sent it on to Vesperius. My one distraction from the volatile situation had run its course. And so I sat, wordless and motionless. To my left was Skyfire, who hadn't spoken a word, and to my right the legionaries, who had their guns trained on the pegasi on the seats opposite to them. I half expected the slightest cough to turn our cramped cabin into a bloodstained and bullet-riddled metal cage. Every single person in the APC was a trained combatant, skilled in the ways of killing. A fight in here would be nightmarishly brutal.
The legionaries and the pegasi were having staring contests. The pegasi had their unsettling bug-eyed helmets, and the legionaries for their part upheld stoic, battle-ready expressions. The pegasus captain Breezetail sat opposite of me; his head turned between me and Skyfire regularly. I knew not how he was feeling of the situation. If he had his helmet off, would I see a furious and hateful glare thrown Skyfire's way? Or would it be directed at us? Would he have looked even mildly curious and reasonable, piecing together the necessity in Skyfire's actions? Perhaps in his eyes I would see fear and uncertainty for what was to come. As much as I wanted to try speaking to him to gauge his feelings of the circumstances, I felt it appropriate to wait a little longer and see if the situation would resolve itself. I knew nothing about these people, my kin from another land. Any words I spoke would likely harm rather than help.
The minutes ticked by, and I grew increasingly anxious. I was never a chatty person, preferring to let the world around me provide the comforting sounds of life. But by the gods, I'd have stood on a podium and given an hours-long speech if it meant breaking that deathly silence.
Surprisingly, my own tolerance for quiet was not the most feeble in the cabin. The centurion pulled at the collar of his armor, cleared his throat, and with anxious glances darting all around he leaned next to a legionary and spoke, "Ferva, uh... what drama is unfolding here?"
The question drew quite a few looks from both parties. I guess everyone knew the explanation to follow, if it came, would shed light on Skyfire's arguably heinous actions -- and my involvement in them. I took in a deep breath and sat still; Skyfire drew herself in, trying to look small.
"Well sir," Ferva replied, pointing the barrel of his gun over at Skyfire and at me, "That mare over there is with these pegasi. Or was, at least. See, the dignitary managed to convince her that her little group here was screwed if they kept up their pillaging. So she decided she'd turn herself and the rest of the lot over to us so's to earn some pardon and goodwill from lord Vesperius. Apparently, she plans to take on jobs to earn a keep for herself and her friends, and to further prove their non-hostile intentions. That right, dignitary?"
I shifted uneasily on my seat, feeling all the eyes on me. "I made a passing suggestion to her, yes... and she thought on it, feeling it in the best interests of her group. We had a, ah... fairly civil discussion, and came to an agreement. So yes, that's about right."
Skyfire looked over her friends... well, likely former friends, but with Skyfire's actions laid out in the open, I could finally see just how they would take the news. They avoided her eyes, turning their heads away from her. Skyfire's ears flattened down against her head, but her eyes hardened and she spoke in a low but surprisingly sure tone, "I know what I did, guys. You must hate me for it... but if you just think, we really were seriously screwed. I did what I thought was best for us. You know that, right?"
They didn't respond directly, preferring to grumble and sneer from behind their masks. Breezetail sat limply in his seat, his immobilized armor rendering him without bodily motion. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought there was a skeleton in there instead of a pony.
Skyfire looked them over, her expression pained. Then her eyes narrowed, slowly, dangerously -- and all of a sudden she growled and leaned forward. Her eyes were puffy and red, glistening, but she let no tears fall. "Yeah, go ahead and hate me, then! I would too if I were you. Where's the fucking loyalty, right? Where's the trust? It's almost like all our years together meant nothing, right? That I'd turn us all over to a bunch of zebras just cause they said they could keep us alive -- I must be so gullible."
She trembled and bowed her head, scowling. "But... fuck, what are we if not the product of our upbringing? We wanted to change the Enclave. We wanted to get them to start treating everyone fairly, to get their heads out of their assess and see that there were others worth saving. But we're stubborn, just like them. And though we won't admit it... they've gotten to our heads. They're fucked up ideology is in us. We were ruthless, tactless, and that's what got us kicked out. Remember that?"
She was almost shouting now, and her eyes were alight with a fury the likes of which I couldn't ever fathom directing at my friends. On our side of the cabin, everyone was stunned. The centurion and his soldiers had their eyes wide, and they looked to each other as if needing confirmation that they were seeing the same thing.
"Remember that, guys? Remember on the thunderhead?" she pressed. "We were so... crazy. If it weren't for that, we could still be with our families. Begrudged, disliked... but at home. Now we're out in the wasteland, half-starved and without any plan. Yeah, we get to live by our morals now. Fucking great, right? Right?! Oh, except for the fact that our desperation was starting to drive us to the very savagery that got us exiled! Yeah, it's just great! We are living the dream baby, and that dream is... fucked! It is fucking fucked!"
At last she drew back and sat against her seat, her chest heaving. Still she shed no tears, but her eyes were wet and rippled with veins. Now, the cabin was a fairly tight place. Each occupant must sit shoulder to shoulder with one another -- that meant that my skin touched Skyfire's, and at the time, seeing the rage in her face and feeling the heat of her hide, I had every desire to squirm away.
"So excuse me if I just decided to make the best of our fucked up situation by making sure you jackasses don't starve to death cause of your own tactless fuckups! There's my loyalty -- hate me all you want, but I did what I had to do for all of you!" she finished, crossing her forehooves over her chest and huffing. She shut her eyes and sat quietly, still trembling. She started to sniff.
The pegasi said nothing, but they sat with their heads low and their bodies limp. Breezetail looked to his sides, his head turning sluggishly, and sighed. Then he too bowed his head.
I looked to Skyfire and was moved by pity. I had been in similar circumstances, but I'd never had to confront head-on the very people whom I'd 'wronged'. Marediolanon, Vesperius had told me, was glad for and inspired by my actions, despite what they may have initially felt. Skyfire had no such consolation. So I moved gently, trying to wrap a forehoof around her.
At the touch of my hoof she jerked back, glaring at me before turning away, unwilling to look anyone in the eyes or to accept any comfort. I withdrew, feeling devastated inside. Not that she was my friend, but I had hoped we were at least getting somewhere. The look she'd given me was almost one of hate, and suddenly it felt like we were back to square one.
I slumped in my seat, feeling drained. So much for the situation resolving itself.
***Roama Victrix***
Things had lightened up slightly by the time we arrived. Skyfire had ceased trying to bottle everything in and cried quietly in her seat, facing away from everyone. In itself, it was a depressing sight and yanked at my heart, but afterwards she was able to look us in the eyes without fiery loathing. Still, she couldn't meet my own gaze without seeming confused or annoyed.
When the door opened and the legionaries carried the immobile pegasi out and into the fields towards the Palatine hill, a small crowd gathered. Mostly they were the engineers and gardeners left behind to build roads and plant bushes and flowers, but a few of Vesperius' praetorians on patrol came to have a look. Skyfire's bloodshot eyes wandered all over, eyeing the zebras and the fields and the city around her with crookedly pursed lips and skeptical glances. Though her opinion of me seemed to have been morphed by her emotional tantrum, I was still the only Roaman she knew; and in that tumult of strange faces, she walked closely by my side, as if seeking solace in my presence.
"We're approaching lord Vesperius' tent," I said. "If you've anything to say, say it to him. And, uh... relax. He really doesn't seem like the type to pry you apart and judge you."
She nodded wordlessly, clearing her throat. I had known Skyfire for less than a day and already I had seen so much of her. Her brash and reckless attitude, her fiery fervor, her deep love for her squad that could drive her to do nearly anything... and also I was seeing a pattern. When she wasn't cocky, she was emotional -- very emotional indeed. It was too soon to say for sure, but it seemed like she would bottle things up, release... then bottle things up again, and release again. This worried me. Myst had exhibited similarly troubling tendencies, and had nearly committed suicide. The thought brought back fresh memories of Myst crazily galloping towards her death, and I shuddered.
I wanted no more of that. I wished Skyfire would come to trust me. Things were odd between us, and certainly despite my good intentions I'd had a hoof in the actions that so deeply troubled her. But I felt that if she just cleared her head and figured out how she felt, we could get past this. I was of the opinion that we could become friends, that we should become friends. After all, if not me, who else would look out for her in the strange Roaman wasteland? If she got what she wanted and suddenly worked for the Legion, who would be there to hear her troubles and to keep her company? I had freedom in the Legion, a job that ironically had no obligations. I could watch over her and help her; her, my kin, who alone among her fellows had dared to do the necessary.
As the original crowd of Legion personnel dispersed, a new congregation approached: the people of Spiderhole, all nearing me with keen curiosity. Delvius and the tribal elders led them; the former praetorian grinned and galloped quickly over, overtaking the older zebras. The rest of the people followed eagerly.
"Goldwreath!" Delvius said with relief, darting past the legionaries and their pegasi luggage, seemingly without care for the presence of other winged ponies. He got right up to me and heaved a sigh, smiling. "I know I said I'd watch things in your absence, but I really must repeat myself: I didn't actually think you'd go off on jobs for the Legion just cause I told you so. I pride myself with having initiative, but that... that was just crazy."
I smiled wanly. "You prodded me towards it, but don't take full credit. I had initiative long before I met you. We're similar like that, I suppose. The mindsets of civil servants, eh? Always making us throw ourselves into the fire..." I chuckled mirthlessly.
He gave a half-smile, perhaps sensing the twinge of bitterness in my tone. Oh, it was nothing new. I loved my job and what I had dedicated my life to, but it was so frequently marked by pain and sacrifice -- the bitter pill all guards had to swallow.
"Oh yeah, and all the good it brings us." He smirked and shook his head. Then he looked to the side and looked Skyfire up and down. He threw a quick glance over his shoulders at the other pegasi -- still being carried off to the hill, all the while under the curiosity of most of the Spiderhole congregation -- and snapped back to me and Skyfire. His eyes lit up with wonder.
"Well now, Equestrian pegasi! I never thought I'd see the day. You know, miss, your kind proved to be some real tough fighters during the war. I'd take my helmet off to you, but I don't have it. So just settle for my respect, if that's worth anything to you," he said, brimming with hospitality, his tone utterly devoid of sarcasm or spite. The friendliness of his statement made me arch a brow. Skyfire looked away but cast him furtive glances.
"Er... sure," she replied. "And thanks, I guess. Ah... uh..."
She looked over to me, her eyes seeking help. Okay, I understood: this was an awkward encounter for her. It probably would've been fine if the rest of her day hadn't been so full of stress. I cleared my throat.
"Anyway, thank you Delvius," I cut in, "For looking over things. If you'll pardon us, we've got to go. Our day... my assignment... is far from over." I grunted under my breath, my body already asking for rest. After dealing with Skyfire's predicament, I promised myself. Then I'd take a seat next to Myst and, well... blank out. I needed a few hours of no troublesome thoughts.
The zebra looked between us, and though he didn't seam eager to, he stepped aside and put on a smile. "Oh, of course. Jobs are a messy affair. And when you're dealing with Equestrians, well now, there'll be some politics involved. Better untangle that mess ASAP, right?"
He took a step back and gave a bow. "I'll take my leave, then. I've got a few plans of my own... gotta get equipped, and then busy. Legion needs all the help it can get, and this zebra's no freeloader. Farewell, Goldwreath! And to you as well, miss...?" He looked over Skyfire again.
Skyfire gave me another uncomfortable look, lightly shaking her head. I sighed and looked at Delvius, then shrugged. The zebra frowned.
"Er, yes... alright then! So, uh... I'll... catch up with you later." And with that he gave another bow, half-hearted this time, and cantered off down the hill to the main Legion camp. He threw looks back at us as he went.
I shook my head again and prodded Skyfire on towards the hill. "You needn't entertain him. He was part of something a while back, something horrible. He took the chance to escape from it. Maybe he is trying too hard to shake his past off, trying too hard to show a new him. But he means well... I think. I'm giving him a chance. And if you should encounter him often, you ought to give him one, too."
Skyfire took a deep breath and let it out, trotting up the hill, saying, "One problem at a time."
At the crest of the hill was a formation of guards, half of them assembled on each side of the entrance to Vesperius' massive purple tent. As we approached, the centurion and his legionaries threw the flaps aside and came out -- no longer in custody of the pegasi. He and I exchanged looks as we passed each other, and he gave a grateful smile and a nod. I returned the gesture, and he and his troops moved on back to the camp while Skyfire and I made for the tent.
I couldn't help but worry as we approached. Many little things conspired to tighten the tension in my gut. Chief among these were the ominous guards right outside the tent -- their black armor seemed to suck the light out of the air, and their unreadable expressions unsettled me. Their ability to block off the only exit should things turn bad in the upcoming meeting was very real, and I remembered all too well Skyfire's threat.
All that, not even including my distrust of anyone who would call themselves praetorians and then act disgracefully. I knew these weren't Imperius' lackeys; I knew I was being too judgmental. But I had seen the worse that the praetorians were capable of, even if they'd been a knock-off order that had nothing to do with the Legion. To erase that memory, I would have to see the best of Roam acting just like that: the best of Roam. Until then, I would reserve my trust and admiration. I had their symbol on my flank, and if they didn't prove themselves worthy of their title, then I at least would.
I cast the guards glances as we entered the tent, my nerves on edge. I threw aside the flaps and stepped in after Skyfire. We were greeted by the rear ends of the kneeling pegasi, who were prostrated before a long wooden table. Behind it stood Vesperius, who himself was almost almost totally hidden behind by a plethora of screens and diagrams and maps projected into the air by apparatus built into the table itself. The interior of the tent was devoid of all light save the electronic blues and reds of the holograms.
Now, the displays projected over the table were really quite complex, very detailed: the kind of stuff that would make an apparent control freak like Vesperius feel like a god in his own right. But despite all that was happening right in front of him -- the flickering and constantly-updating streams of data hovering holographically in front of his face in mesmerizing neon colors, the prostrated pegasi thrown right at his hooves, the fact that Skyfire and I were standing in plain sight? All of that didn't even seem to register to him as he stared off to the side, as if deeply analyzing a certain object on his table. A white thing, a... a coffee mug? Yes, and filled with the dark liquid, too.
For a long moment, absolutely nothing transpired in that tent. If I had to guess, Vesperius was on some five-minute staring break or something. At least I had an idea of what was going on; for Skyfire, whose whole foreseeable future was at the mercy of Vesperius, it certainly must have been an odd and gut-wrenching experience to wait to be noticed and then promptly judged. Even her friends were beginning to stir, their heads looking around and to each other as if wondering if anything at all would happen.
Then there was a beep, and Vesperius took up the coffee mug to take a sip. He allowed himself a satisfied sigh, and just like that he sat down again. This time his eyes were fixated on all the data before him, and his hooves expertly tapped away at the holographic interface. Reports piled together on one side of the table, maps hovering in the center, charts on the other end... the speed with which he organized his workplace astounded me. But we really needed his attention now.
I cleared my throat. "Lord Vesperius?"
"Hm?" He looked past one of the maps at me. "Yes, Goldwreath?"
So he knew I was here. Well he really hadn't acted like it. I wondered if I should feel insulted or if this was something I'd have to get used to.
"The job is done," I said, hoping to speed things along. "All the details were in the report."
He nodded before diving back behind his interfaces, still manipulating them as easily as ever. "Oh yes, I read it. Very interesting developments, yes, very interesting. Pegasi confirmed to be of Equestrian origin. Skyfire's proposition is interesting, and not unlike what you had to go through. You made the comparison yourself. Still, the whole report was much to take in. Had to think of ways to... proceed. How to welcome and treat the pegasi, specifically. Political introduction? No, war is two-hundred years over. No point on dwelling on that. Warm and friendly talk? Too inexperienced, didn't bother. Spent all of a minute trying to decide. Ran out of time. Had to follow my schedule; gave myself needed break and coffee dosage. Then back to work."
I groaned, rolling my eyes and almost face-hoofing. "All well and good, sir, but uh... when will you be able to tend to this situation? I think you can agree with me when I say this should be addressed soon."
"Oh, of course. Soon will be in a minute. Very important this, I know. Reorganized my whole afternoon schedule for this meeting. Still, I'm afraid I can only allocate ten minutes maximum. No needless drama or tension. I have my decisions at the ready, anyway."
His last sentence sent shock into every pegasus in that tent, me included. The Equestrians gasped and nervously murmured to each other, their former anger replaced with pure anxiety. Skyfire looked to me, her eyes wide. "He's decided already? But... but I haven't even made my case yet! How fucking comprehensive was that report of yours, huh? Are you expecting me to accept this? I don't trust some damn text to explain what happened in detail."
The glare she gave me was as piercing as a knife and hot as flame. I was at a loss for words; I understood her apprehension. I would have demanded to make my case, too. But actually, I had been comprehensive in my report. In it was everything I knew about Skyfire and her squad -- yes, enough for Vesperius to make conclusions. I just didn't think he'd actually do it. I'd expected him to at least hear her out. What was I supposed to tell Skyfire now?
I swallowed and stared her down. "Comprehensive enough," I said sternly. "But I am on your side here. I didn't expect him to reach conclusions already. Just trust me when I say he'll be fair."
That didn't sit well with her at all, and she opened her mouth to express herself. But at that moment Vesperius called, "Skyfire, step forward."
He was looking straight at us now, all the holographic interfaces sent to the sides of the table. The gap in the middle gave us clear sight of him as he sat, leaned back casually, coffee in hoof.
Skyfire looked between us repeatedly before giving me a scowl and stepping forward. Her friends had their eyes on us, and they raised their voices to project disparate motivations. It seemed like some, at least, had accepted the inevitable and were hoping for the best; others were furious still, calling Skyfire out as a traitor. And still others just shook their heads and lamented quietly their own grievances -- wishing things were different, that their fortunes were otherwise. But whatever it was they all said, the fact was that they were here now, and they had to deal with whatever was to follow.
Skyfire got right up to the front of the table, giving Vesperius a tense look. Vesperius raised a brow and looked her over. I instinctively put a hoof on my gladius, just in case.
Skyfire cleared her throat. "Sir, please at least listen for a moment," she said with surprising restraint. Vesperius brought up his mug and took a drink. "My squad and I, we really didn't mean to do anything destructive here. We were just... desperate." She fiddled with her hooves. "I mean, we did everything we could to not go there, but... but we had to. So if it takes anything to fix what we've done, I claim responsibility. I can work. I'm fit enough. They aren't. That's just simple facts."
Vesperius nodded and shrugged. "All well and the same, my decisions are simple and final," he said plainly, and Skyfire's ears flattened against the back of her head. She looked hurt that her plea hadn't even given him pause.
"Oh, don't look so devastated," Vesperius said, his tone sincere -- but with the way he partitioned his time, and apparently even his emotions, it was hard to tell how sincere his sincerity was.
"Despite what you and your friends may fear, I'm actually not going to obligate you to render service to make up for your wrongs. You will be held not as prisoners in some cell, but in a medical ward as injured and malnourished soldiers in need of recovery -- because, and I dare you to tell me I'm wrong, that is exactly what you are. You will be maintained here, nursed back to health. Your armor and equipment will be tended to. Yes, even the skytank that I know you left out there, unmentioned to Goldwreath, hidden perhaps under rubble or in some basement. And then in a few weeks time, I will release you from my 'custody', resupplied, and free to do as you wish. I would suggest against going back out into the wasteland, but if you so decide, then by all means. I'll not keep you."
He lifted up his coffee for a drink. "Does that sound fair?"
My jaw dropped. Skyfire's jaw dropped. And though I couldn't see see their faces, I was damn sure the other pegasi had their jaws down, too.
One of the pegasus mares spoke. "I'm sorry, what?" she asked, clearly dumbfounded.
"Hm?" Vesperius turned to her. "What? Oh, you mean what I just said? I meant every line, my dear, in case you were wondering."
"But why?" she pressed.
Vesperius shrugged. "A number of reasons, some purely technical, others... moral in nature. You attacked Road Town, a settlement outside of Legion jurisdiction -- hence, you perpetrated no crime against the power I represent. If anything, you ought to be judged by the people whose homes you destroyed. But Road Town, well now, Road Town... they are a strange bunch. They don't accept our authority, but leave it to us to deal with affairs that concern them. They are Roamans, of course, and I have not the heart to abandon them. Still... most irritating. Believe me, your incursion was not the first event they asked for help with."
He shook his head. "Whatever the case, they left your fate to me when they allowed Golwreath here to take you away without so much as a single line of protest. Those are the technical reasons. As for morals? Well, I am not a condemning person. I don't use my power to cause suffering, or at least I don't want to. I can't stand the thought of it. I have a set of values that would have me give everyone what I am giving you now... but of course that is impossible. I can certainly try, but the Legion would be stripped of all of its resources, reduced from a wasteland-reclaiming fighting force to a glorified charity office. And the good we would do then would be short-term."
He looked them over. His surprise offers had earned him their full attention. And so he continued, "But to seven foreigners in need of aid -- without a home, without direction, and without a plan for the future -- I can spare at least my personal account. That would give you what you need without compromising my army's taxed supplies. I think it's a win-win. Well, not for me, but that's beside the point."
Surely I wasn't the only one who'd heard that. This was not my council; I had no role here, and so I kept quiet. But Skyfire must've been wondering the same thing as me when she asked, "Your... personal account?"
Vesperius smiled wanly. "Yes... yes, my personal account. My own money." He leaned back in his seat, tapping his forehooves together. "Make no mistake, Skyfire, there are plenty here who would have you killed or tortured. And not just for what you have done today, but what your nation has done before, too. I suspect the same animosity still lingers in Equestria. But that hatred has no place in me. It is a distraction, and I have no time for such nonsense. I would reestablish the friendship our people once had, for the wasteland is sorely lacking in kindness. And so if it takes every last denarius in my account to properly treat the descendants of friends of old, then it will take every last denarius in my account. That, dear Skyfire, is just simple facts. The facts of me, laid out for you, so you needn't ask me the why's. They are what they are; take them as you will."
Having said his piece and ended with finality in his tone, Vesperius brought all the displays back to the center of the table. His work resumed, and he was engulfed in a holographic sea of data.
We, meanwhile, were silent. I had no hoof in the matter, of course. Vesperius' offers were given to Skyfire and her friends. It was up to them to accept. But all the while I stared into the holograms, catching glimpses of Vesperius, and I couldn't help but be moved to admire his incredible generosity. I had expected him to be fair, not totally selfless just because he wanted to be. I supposed that, squeezed somewhere between the confines of his beloved schedule, was a person deeply ingrained in his morals.
At that moment, my respect for him skyrocketed. I no longer doubted his sincerity.
Skyfire looked to her squad, her eyes begging for advice. The shock must have overtaken them, because for a moment they didn't even move. But then they gave each other eager nods, giggling gleefully and letting out deep sighs.
"We're saved," one of them sniffed, shaking his bowed head. "We're gonna... gonna live. Bless you, Celestia! Bless you..."
That was all that Skyfire needed. She smiled and turned to the holograms that shrouded Vesperius. "We are truly, truly grateful," she said shakily, her eyes seeming to go wet, "And are more than happy to accept. Thank you. Thank you so, so much."
"You are welcome," the zebra replied, unseen behind his data. "Now, if you plan on benefitting from my offer, you ought to go outside and let my guards know. They'll take you and your friends to the appropriate facilities. Enjoy your stay."
Skyfire turned around, glowing with joy and relief. She passed by me and gave me a look-over, her eyes soft and kindly for the first time ever. After the smoldering anger and simmering suspicion I'd had to deal with the past few hours, this was a most welcome change. I smiled back, still wrapping my head around how incredibly well the whole meeting had gone. It was one of those few times things too good to be true actually came to be, and she knew it.
She took a deep breath and went out. Moments later, she and her friends were being brought down the hill to a smaller set of tents situated a ways off from the main Legion camp -- judging by the big red tent in the middle, I was sure it was the medical station. Same place as Myst was being treated in. I watched them for a moment.
"Goldwreath," Vesperius called, and I turned. Still hidden behind all the holographic interfaces, he said, "We will talk later tonight. There are things that need to be discussed. But for now, know that you did well -- and be assured, also, that I'm going to make good on my promises. They will be safe here, as will the people of Arachnia. I know you're very emotionally invested in all of this. I am too, though I often don't seem like it. So I suppose my statement is affirmation to both of us."
I nodded. "Of course, sir. I'll take my leave."
But I lingered for a moment, and finally spoke. "Sir?"
"Hm, huh? What?" came his reply. He was obviously starting to get busy all over again. "You're still here? Surprising."
"I just want to express my own gratitude, sir. I was driving myself insane worrying about what could have happened. But you handled it well, far better than I had hoped. Nothing went wrong that could have... and you have displayed your quality, and it is remarkable indeed, if I may say. I know I was the one with a job, but... very well done, lord Vesperius."
"Mm... thanks." He spoke with just a little more emotion then, as if actually taking some pride in himself, however momentary and subdued. "Well, I try. I just gave up about a month's salary; it's really not that much considering the good I'm hoping to accomplish. But the source of my good is Jupiter's good judgement. Thank him, Goldwreath. Not me. Now, please. I've work to do."
I smirked and left. Once outside I spared a moment to take a deep, revitalizing breath as the afternoon sun sank in the sky, casting shadows across the field; these were the vanguard of the approaching evening. In a few hours it would be sunset, the second I would witness in full beautiful detail since leaving Marediolanon. Oh, it had been such a long day... but at least it was over. I could take a break, and try to enjoy myself a little.
A cool breeze wafted by, as if the environment were aligned to my mood. Ridiculous, but still, I smiled. Perhaps I was lucky and I had yet to see the worst of the wasteland, but beauty was beauty regardless of the horror around it. It was to be appreciated, cherished. And at that moment my eyes beheld the majesty of Roam, slightly tarnished -- the old temples, the fields, the aqueducts high overhead. I could almost see it all restored... oh, but that would take much more time. Still, by the Legion's efforts and some initiative on the parts of others... dreams could come true. And it was an encouraging thought.
I took a moment to consider what to do next. Skyfire and her friends would need some time for themselves, if only to come to terms with each other. Meanwhile, there was a whole Legion camp just a little ways off. Despite the absence of the bulk of the local legion, the place was brimming with activity -- there were soldiers, but there were the Arachnians, too; and they were all hoofing it between the tents, standing in line for something or other, and just plain mingling. It was good that they were getting over their trauma. Or at least, were seeming to.
It was a bustling place, filled with life. I couldn't help heading over, if only to pour fuel on the flames of my euphoria. All I wanted was a good afternoon. I had earned it, I liked to think.
I trotted downhill, humming contentedly to myself.
***Roama Victrix***
The thing I was immediately grateful for was that I wasn't swamped by Arachnians. Delvius had said that they considered me their hero. I had no doubt that I had helped them, but I certainly hadn't made any serious sacrifices. Not like Tavish had. Those of them that saw me smiled and greeted me with lines like 'Hello, good praetorian', and that was enough for me. These people had lives to rebuild. Better that they thought on that rather than ways to reward me for actions any decent person would have done.
As I moved deeper into the camp, which was a good size of some several hundred meters in area, I became acutely aware of how many tents were barren and closed off, their flaps pegged into the ground. Clearly the very same legion that had left earlier that day had intentions of returning. The notion of continued Roaman military action in and around the capital both reassured and worried me. On the one hoof, the Roaman government was back. It was a good thing for the nation, but if Marediolanon's reaction to them was any indication, the indigenous wastelanders would be wary of soldiers touting Roaman symbols and coming to alter their lives forever. Change was scary, I understood that. But wasteland life was the lowest standard of living achievable; surely any change brought could only improve things. I hoped they would see that.
I strolled through the isles between the empty tents, leaving behind me the festive atmosphere that'd formed between the Arachnians and the off-duty legionary gardeners and engineers. They had plenty to do between them; there were shops and stalls on the outskirts of the camp, where I assumed legionaries could go to spend their salaries, and there were fenced-off areas for recreational sports like wrestling and hoofraces. I'd have mingled, joined in the camaraderie, but my mood was held up just fine by a strange sense of belongingness. I felt myself pulled deeper into the camp -- called into it by the Roaman banners, and the perfect grid-patterned organizational scheme, and the hoof-dug ditches and fortifications. I imagined the centuria urbanae of Marediolanon running hectic between these tents, acting as a small part of a larger community, unified by our common loyalty to Roam. I looked and saw not merely dirt, but paths; the places where daily routines took place, where the formations and the drills were held. I could almost smell the mornings as the soldiers here would have: the saltiness of sweat, the sweet-sour of posca, the fragrance of rushed breakfasts...
I stopped in an open area where ash was scattered over the ground -- here was where the hearths were lit, every night. I turned and looked at it all, listening to the wind-rustled flaps and seeing the dust blown into the air. Perhaps it is in the heart of all Roamans, who hold Roaman values close, to never feel without home. For Roam was home, and Roam was an idea -- immortal and indestructible, manifesting in the world constantly. I belonged to this camp. I belonged in this city. I belonged with these people. In them, I was complete. I was of them as much as I was of myself. One Roaman people, one Roaman dream... now and forever.
I took a deep breath and bowed my head, closing my eyes. Riding on the wind was a pleasant humming noise, distant but steady. I couldn't imagine what produced it, but it calmed me. It entered me and it filled me with good thoughts -- all the beautiful things of life that order and civilization could bring. There were hardly any moments ever after that could match the peace of this one.
In fact, it was so peaceful that my thoughts and senses turned into this sort of mental mush. The world slid away and phased back in, like falling asleep for but a second and waking feeling refreshed. When I came to, I knew that surely not even a minute had passed. But now I heard metal striking an anvil, and it was coming from a blue tent on the other side of the hearth-ground -- it stuck out from all the other tents, which were a dark purple. How I hadn't noticed it before, I don't know.
I cocked my head and trotted over slowly, making my way around. When I came to the front I saw a big, burly zebra. He was large and muscled, coated with sweat, and hammering away at a hunk of glowing metal upon a wide anvil. But what struck me most was his horribly disfigured face -- the bones of his muzzle were flat and had grown sideways, like he'd been smashed against a wall repeatedly as a newborwn foal. To be honest, yes he was ugly. But he didn't seem frightening. Why, he was humming a tune to himself as he worked, and he seemed in no way tense or hostile. I had the feeling that so long as I didn't treat him differently on account of his face, there'd be no problem between us. And anyway, I wasn't petty enough to base my interactions with people over their looks... though honestly, I really was tempted to turn away and move along.
Then the zebra caught sight of me and gave me a quick look with his vibrant sky-blue eyes. His jaw contorted into a curved stretch of bone and flesh that I assumed was a smile. "Afternoon, praetorian. You must be lost. Lord Vesperius' tent is back down that way." He pointed behind me with his hammer. "There aren't any patrol routes this deep into the camp. But you know... you do look new. Haven't seen you around here before, anyway. What's your name, friend?"
Well, certainly seemed friendly enough. At least, he spoke normally and was easy to understand. And really, he didn't look so bad... no worse than some of the really terrifying injuries I'd seen outside of Marediolanon.
"Goldwreath," I replied after some hesitation. He gave me a nod as he started hammering away on his work again. "And... yeah, I am new here. Well, actually, I arrived a few days ago. But I was knocked out, had no idea what was going on in the world around me. Good thing I ended up in friendly places."
"Mm, thank the gods for that, eh?" He smirked and laughed quietly. "Anyway, name's Caminus, and I'm glad you're here. Legion needs all the bodies it can put to work. You have been working for them, I assume? You sure look like it. That armor's seen better days, and so have you. What's your unit, Goldwreath?"
Now I didn't think this was the sort of information that could be classified as confidential; surely everyone here knew that Vesperius had (apparently) his own private force of individuals he could call on. At least, Vesperius hadn't made it seem like a secret. And anyway, I was among friends in this place.
"Well, friend, if you're looking to start a good conversation, would you mind me stepping into your tent? I've had a long day and I could use a seat," I said.
He motioned inwards, pointing his hammer over his shoulder. "Of course, go ahead. If you can deal with a blacksmith's humble abode, that is."
I nodded gratefully and stepped passed him, throwing aside the blue flaps of his tent. Inside, the walls were lined by shelves and racks of various armor and weapons -- swords, spears, and shields on one side; guns, ammo, and attachments on the other. And against the wall between those two sides were mannequins dressed in a plethora of ceremonial and combat uniforms. There were suits of praetorian and legionary lorica segmentata, auxiliary lorica hamata, and officer musculuta. All of excellent make, too. Clearly this zebra was a master at his art.
It was hard to believe that he lived in here, though. A small table adjacent to two seats, and an old mattress laid plain on the dirt? Very Spartan of him. I took my seat as he followed me inside, wiping sweat off his brow.
"I did say humble," Caminus said, taking his own seat.
"Place is fine, don't worry," I smiled, hoping to look sincere. "I mean, you've got a roof over your head and a place to lay down. Legion provides food, I assume? Hell, it's better than what most people would have. Oh, and about the Legion; to answer your question, my unit's the Dignitary Auxiliaries. Vesperius' private task force, apparently."
There was a pleased glimmer in his eyes. In fact, it'd been there even before I'd told him -- like he'd already known and had just asked out of formality. "Ah, that makes sense," he said. "Though you look like a praetorian, I've long known their order to keep out of actual combat. They keep to their post, no matter what, and their post is always at the side of some important person or some other. Unless said person heads off to fight, they stay in their usual routes. So the moment I saw you in that armor..." He looked me over, and I saw pride in his eyes. "Well, I knew there were only two possibilities: either new blood was brought into their ranks that deviated away from their routine, or your service to the Legion was of a different nature. Seems I guessed right. And well now, Dignitary Auxiliary... that's a position to be proud of, Goldwreath."
"Why's that? The pay good or something?" I laughed.
"Well, that's one thing," he replied, and I drew back in surprise. He shrugged. "Vesperius is a generous fellow. Spend enough time around him and you'll see. I admire a great many things about him -- his generosity, his humility... and especially his faith. He attributes the good things he does and witnesses to the gods. In our time and age, Goldwreath, for people to believe good beyond themselves is a rarity."
He took a deep breath and leaned back. "And he's another reason why your position is a prestigious one. Vesperius does his best, and selects only the best; that you are in his private force means he sees you as something more, a cut above the everyday legionary. His reputation as a fair and calm leader will lend itself to you, and likewise the merits of your actions will reflect on him. You are in a very good position, economically and socially. To squander it would be a terrible waste, but he trusts you enough to make good on your duties and be humble in your privilege. And of course, the work is good. Easy or not, it's my understanding whatever jobs he would send your way are for a worthy cause."
"I... I suppose." He rose a brow at me. "Ah, you'll have to forgive me if I seem a bit unsettled. I was inducted into his service not quite knowing the... the gravitas, the weight of my position. I accepted his offer out of my need to keep busy. I didn't know anything about the pay or the reputation... all good things, certainly, but I didn't know..."
He waved a hoof at me. "Ah, well in fairness many go into the job not knowing. Vesperius doesn't like to tell them about the privileges at first; it may cloud their decision to join, and morph their intentions. He rewards good work, but hopes not to encourage profiteering. He takes many risks, Goldwreath, and only hopes that in return those in his employ work because they believe in good like he does."
I took a moment to absorb that. "Well, I do," I said. "It is hard to say one is good without seeming self-righteous, but I never had the intention to put myself first out here. I left home, I left my people -- maybe even made them hate me for a time -- because I knew that we couldn't stay isolated forever. There was a whole world out here that needed us. Roam needed us. My only goal in this wasteland is to make it better. So I will go from place to place, do what needs to be done, to accomplish that. That is my direction. Without it, my life is without meaning."
The zebra blacksmith stared at me for a long moment. "If that is true, then you too have my respect and admiration. I have seen many of your fellows in the order, and when I look at them, I see... so little fire, so little of what Vesperius would want from them. Good people, but their hearts are elsewhere. With you, though, I sense a certain surety. And that is good. Vesperius and Roam shall be grateful... if you keep your intentions pure and carry out your work well."
I nodded. "You speak as though you know him well," I noted. "You must be a good friend of his."
In an unsettling display, he pursed his lips slowly into a smile. "Something like that. I'm an advisor of sorts. An ear that listens. A fellow believer in his hopes and dreams. Every night, he prays to the gods. He prays for good to win in the minds of all people. And the gods listen, he says. He claims they send him signs, give him assurances... and sometimes appear to him, too. Many would call him crazy if he shared his dreams, but I would do no such thing. I would encourage him along this path, see his faith deepened. He believes that the gods walk the world, taking our form to speak with us. What a wondrous thing if that were true, no? What a blessing it must be to converse with a god, a paragon of virtue in this chaotic world, and maybe never even know it. Imagine hearing their words, and becoming convinced that they're just one of us... and that we could be capable of godly acts, too.
"Why, you could even be talking to a god right now. Ha! Imagine that, eh? Ahahaha...!"
It was certainly a crazy notion. But some people were inclined to such thoughts: the faithful, the deep believers. I was... not one of them. I had only started wading into this faith, which had surrounded me all my life, but to which I had paid little attention to until recently. You'll excuse me if I took all such people with a grain of salt.
After his bout of hearty laughter, he calmed down. "In any case, though, it's good we had this talk. You see, I smith and maintain specialized equipment for Vesperius, and he distributes them as he sees fit. He typically gives them out to his DA's. And you? You're one of them. Heck, you look like you could use some new gear, anyway. So tell me, Goldwreath... what do you want?"
I cocked my head sideways. "What do you mean?" I asked slowly.
He gestured at all the gear around us. "This equipment gets put on one body or another eventually. Yes, it's free; after all, I make a living here by being accommodated, not by acting as a merchant or a vendor. And I'm fine with that. Profit isn't really in my list of priorities, anyway. So you go ahead and take your pick. Any set of armor, any one gun, sword, shield, and all the ammo you can carry."
"Truly? That's mighty generous of you, Caminus. Why, you're making me feel guilty just accepting," I laughed, but I meant it. Don't get me wrong, I was as excited by the prospect of obtaining new stuff as much as the next guy would've been, but I really didn't feel right taking his work without compensation. I placed my trust in his statement that he didn't need the money, because if I found out he did and was just being nice, I'd do all I could to pay him back.
At his behest, I stood. I placed myself before all the fine gear and, with some trepidation, began to earnestly and eagerly consider each piece. I analyzed the impressive sets of armor and all of the rifles, pistols, shotguns, swords, spears, and shields on display. With such variety in equipment, I was truly tempted to select the best pieces -- even if my training for such equipment was limited at best. I checked my want; I'd pick out what I needed, what I knew I could use, and nothing else.
And actually, that wasn't a lot. The truth was that I didn't need much. My armor was scraped and dirty, but its integrity was in no way seriously compromised just yet; what's more, this praetorian lorica that Tavish had given me as a disguise back in Spiderhole had been modified while I was unconscious to accommodate my wings. That utility just couldn't be matched by any of these finely crafted suits, not unless I asked Caminus to deface his work. No, I couldn't do that. My armor was fine. I needed a new cape, though; the one that came with the disguise had all but disintegrated in my recent exploits. So I picked out a fresh purple cape and set it over my back, clipping it around my neck.
Next were the weapons. Contrary to what Vesperius had assumed, the 'standard firearms' he'd provided for my previous mission were... beyond my training. What can I say, Marediolanon's weapons training course was fairly narrow: shotguns and other short-ranged weaponry all utilized in a thorough close-quarters-combat training regimen. The use of rifles was rare, and I didn't trust myself enough to risk lives in a firefight on my ability to use them. So I picked out the most durable and most-dependable looking shotgun I could lay my eyes on -- a gorgeous thing with a long body and short barrel, with a drum magazine and a handle that fit the pressure-trigger comfortably against my hoof. And what else would I need? Oh yes, a sidearm. Thankfully pistols counted as close-ranged weapons. I fixed my focus on a sturdy revolver and settled on that.
Lastly, a good shield. Up until now any scutum I'd used was never totally mine. Now I had the chance to have one I could call my own. It wasn't a hard choice; all scuta were pretty much the same, minus decals and personal effects. So I took one of them up, was happy with the handling, and let the matter settle itself.
I lugged my chosen equipment over onto the table for Caminus to look over. He smirked and gave me a look.
"You're being frugal, Goldwreath." He shook his head with a smile. "Well, I trust you know what you're doing. If this is the equipment you feel will keep you alive out there, then so be it. Now, you'll need some ammo, of course." He stood and trotted over to a large chest, and after rummaging through the contents he pulled out boxes of ammo; why, they must've totalled hundreds of rounds and shells! I got the feeling I wasn't going to want for ammo any time soon.
"I do hope you'll be able to carry all this around. One benefit of being part of a military organization: you won't be struggling with ammunition, I guarantee it. Now, as your supplier, I'll give you an introduction to your equipment. This is my area of expertise." Caminus smiled proudly and stood tall, and began pointing to my chosen equipment in turn.
First, at the shotgun. "Here you got yourself the late-war 'Tankbuster' model of shotgun. Don't let the conventional aesthetic fool you; the thing has miniaturized rails in the barrel that produces powerful electromagnetic fields, accelerating pellets and slugs to incredible velocities. This gun, it punches right through anything that isn't a tank. Name's ironic in that sense, but you'll have no trouble blowing holes through hatches and through certain obstacles. Any poor sod this thing is aimed it will drop dead instantly; him, and probably the five or so guys behind him, too. If you're one for combat in enclosed spaces, nothing beats the power of the Tankbuster. Now, the rails do require power -- for that, there's a slot in the butt for a miniaturized power cell; I've given you a few of those. In the case that you're unable to power the rail mechanism, the weapon still works. Just without the extra kick that gives it its name."
I regarded the weapon with newfound awe, greatly pleased in my choice.
Next he turned to the revolver and the shield. "Nothing too much here. Standard .44 caliber magnum. Good range, good power, and a firing rate as fast as you can put pressure on the trigger. Then there's the bulletproof legionary scutum, made of lightweight metal composite alloys and emblazoned with the imperial-era IPQR logo and accompanying golden laurels. Collapsible for easy storage. Edges feature magnetic lining, so if ever you find yourself forming a shield wall with some allies, that'll give you some extra cohesion."
He stepped back and looked me over as I handled and got a feel for my new stuff. I was excited to try them out in combat, and not excited at the same time. I didn't fancy the idea of having to kill, but I had accepted the nigh-inevitability of it. The memory of cutting down one of Imperius' soldiers flashed in my mind, making me pause. It was a terrible recollection... but I had done it out of necessity, and in the end, things were better for it. So as long as anyone I put down had to be put down, as long as I only killed out of absolutely necessity... I was convinced I could handle that. I didn't like it, but the matter was beyond me.
Minutes later I was outside of Caminus' tent. I had loaded my saddlebags full with the ammo -- the weight would have been cumbersome if I hadn't donated to him the bits and pieces of other equipment I'd had to make do with on my previous ordeals. Slung across my neck was the Tankbuster model of shotgun. The revolver was ensconced firmly in a holster strapped to my foreleg. The new cape got its first taste of dirt as it dragged over the ground, moved by a light breeze. The shiny new scutum was in its collapsed form and hung on my torso, acting as a counterweight to the revolver and gladius on my other side.
"Well, the moment has come for us to part," Caminus said. "I've work to do. It seems its just every few days now when a new DA gets inducted and Vesperius requests some new equipment. It keeps me busy, my work; busy but satisfied. Now you take care out there, Goldwreath. And remember: the gods are watching, and they help you in ways you may not realize. Vale, true to Roam."
"Vale. True to Roam, friend," I replied. "Thank you, Caminus. Be well."
"You too, Goldwreath."
With that, we turned our backs to each other and went our separate ways. The sky had darkened significantly now, and was composed of the dark shades of purple that accompanied... what was it called? Dusk? Yes, dusk. I must've spent an hour in that tent.
Now, I'd given Skyfire and her friends enough time. Now was my chance to meet those people for real, and determine just what their life would be like in this new land.
***Roama Victrix***
"Goldwreath! Don't just stand over there dude, get over here," Skyfire beckoned, gesturing for me to take a seat on the chair opposite to her own. She sat next to a bed, on which lay a ragged pony stallion with a light blue coat and white mane and tail -- the colors of the sky, it seemed. His grey eyes seemed surprised that Skyfire had invited me over.
Now, the medical center of this Roaman camp was composed of a set of tents -- smaller, auxiliary ones surrounding the biggest in the middle, which could house two dozen sick or injured all at once. There was a plethora of equipment, all idle and unused but impressive in diversity. Lining the walls were tall apparatuses hung with medical tubes and braces, and powered-down machinery with screens that possessed what looked like robotic arms tipped with precision points for surgical operations.
Here Skyfire's squad were all laid in beds on one side, hungrily gobbling down a meal. It didn't smell like anything in particular. Porridge, perhaps? Oatmeal? Well, for the famished anything was good. Zebras dressed in medical gowns tended to them as they ate, taking their blood pressure with sphygmomanometers and checking their hearts with stethoscopes.
Myst wasn't in this tent, though. I frowned. I was sure she was being tended to in one of the auxiliary tents, but I had hoped to keep see her myself immediately. I arrived and stood before Skyfire, wiping the disappointment from my face -- not quickly enough, apparently.
Skyfire gave me a smirk. "What, you embarrassed or something? No need to look so dour. Take a seat, lemme introduce you to my captain here," she said.
"That's up to me, Skyfire. Officers should introduce themselves," the stallion said gravelly, with the voice that I immediately recognized as Breezetail's.
I sat down as Skyfire rolled her eyes. "Fine," she drawled. "Go ahead, captain."
Breezetail and I looked into each other's eyes. For his part, he showed some hesitation; or maybe he was just thinking on what to say. He lay silent for a moment, his expression one of deep thought as he looked at me.
"Well, you must be Goldwreath. Skyfire went into great detail about how you two met. And as for you and I? We met earlier when I wanted to smash your face in," he said. "Kinda glad I hadn't, I guess -- but mind you, you struck first with that EMP shenanigans. Anyway... Captain Breezetail, Enclave First Recon. You know plenty about us by now. More than I would've let on had I met you first instead."
He glared at Skyfire accusingly, and her smug smirk died. The mare sighed and looked away with a huff. She now looked only slightly troubled by what she'd done, though. She must've known all along that what she was doing would save them -- and Vesperius' surprise generosity and lenience had obviously cleared away much of the tension. Nonetheless, trust had been broken... and I didn't expect things to be totally okay between them again any time soon. But here, at least, I was seeing no hate. Just the expected anger. She had saved their lives and given them options for the future, after all, even if through a dangerous gamble. Surely he saw that and appreciated the thought behind it all.
Breezetail looked back to me, the anger in his eyes fading. "But here I am spilling my guts out anyway. After all, we're practically at your mercy here. Though... I guess I can't really hold a grudge against you. These are your people's lands. And, well, much as I want to smack Skyfire upside the head for pulling that damn stunt and blatantly disregarding our trust, she wasn't exaggerating when she said we were becoming something we hated. Glorified raiders... and damn well did she guess right when she said we would only have been screwing ourselves over with that kind of plunderer's life. Ain't smart to make enemies in unknown places." He closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. "What can I say to justify what we did? Nothing that can be excused. But that kind of desperation, well..."
"Oh, no need to explain to me, sir," I interjected. "And yes, I said sir. I'm new here. I've only just started to get into the swing of wasteland life, if we're being totally honest. You and your crew ? You may have done some questionable things, but I can't judge. I know little of hardships and tough choices, and I defer to those with greater experience in those regards. So if my lord Vesperius can forgive, well then I'd better take it as an example. Besides, Captain Breezetail, it's my understanding that your people stood for something good. What that good is, I don't quite know yet. But so long as I see you keep true to your morals now that you aren't keeling over from starvation, then you'll be alright by me."
He pursed his lips and gazed at his squadmates with thought. Then he turned back to me. "We'll try. We're here in this land now, in the fabled Roam... great enemy of old Equestria. But really... fuck that. World would've been better off without the war, and grudges are poison. So though it's all a haze in my mind, our future is here. Enclave sure as hell won't take us back, and the rest of Equestria's deep in the shit. At least here I see some progress, some chance for civilization to take root again."
He took a deep breath and nodded to himself, even as my mind raced to process some key words. Enclave. Equestria. My head exploded with all sorts of images, my curiosity piqued. I listened intently as he continued, "Oh, we'll make some good out of ourselves here, I'm certain. We're just not sure how. Without your intervention, none of this would be possible; we have you to thank for all this. So tell me, Goldwreath, what would you have us do?"
I smiled bashfully and shook my head. "I only know so much, sir. Legion needs all the personnel it can put to work. Reclaiming the bones of an old empire isn't easy. If you were just zebras from tribes or something, well I'd suggest becoming auxiliaries. But your people are clearly a cut above the average person's skills and talents. Ask Vesperius, he'll know what you can do if you're set on working for us."
He nodded again, but this time seemed a little troubled. "Alright. Now, I did aid we'll make good of ourselves here. We won't raid towns or pilfer settlements. If we're going to live here we'll need supplies, but supplies don't come free. We get that. Your leader's generosity is truly appreciated, but we can't possibly take it without payment. So we'll work, just as Skyfire proposed. But I would like to make it clear now... if we get into business with this group, we will be treated as equals and not subservients. We will work with you, not for you, for the progress that the Enclave are too stubborn to embrace. You'll forgive me for my insistence. I just want to make sure you people are better than the bigots mine have become."
Skyfire and I exchanged glances. She was giving me a funny look as she leaned back in her seat, both eyes on me with one eyebrow raised. Was she judging me, or just waiting to see how I'd react to all this?
I licked my lips. "Well, sir, your conditions are noted. I'll see to telling lord Vesperius. I do hope we turn out to be what you expect, of course, but we do our own things here. Cultural differences can arise, you know that," I said.
"Oh, yeah, well, obviously," he rolled his eyes. "That's why I will learn as much as I can about what your Legion does here. How they work, what they intend... and it is for that reason that I am ordering Skyfire here to accompany you. She will be my eyes and ears on the field."
Skyfire smiled. I was surprised.
"You're... ordering it?" I asked, dumbfounded. Now, bear with me. When I proposed my offers to Skyfire earlier that day, she was a conflicted mare burdened with the weight of betraying her friends. She accepted my offer because she needed to, because working with the Legion was all she could do to buy her squad a place in an unknown land. That was the reason, right? And even if it weren't just that anymore, why did she seem glad for it? She didn't need to do anything now. She could literally abuse Vesperius' generosity, her and the rest of her squad... and yet here she was smiling at me like I was some friend of hers.
... I couldn't quite complain, though. That's what I'd wanted. For her and I to be companions and friends, because why not? Why not befriend people of your own kind if it could be done? Ah, there was so much she could tell me! About Equestria, about what it was like now -- and this Enclave I kept hearing about. And most definitely, if I was going to run around all of Roam on errands for Vesperius, doing it alone would be most tiresome. And dangerous. Myst was a delight, oh yes certainly, and she too had agreed to join me. There was a thought forming in my mind, of me and friends taking on this land together. Working for a better future, together. Living a life of good, together. Understand, I embraced this brave new world of the outside with nothing behind me. No certainty, no guidance aside from my own morals, no friends. It was to be a life spent for Roam. Good on its own merits, but... lonely, and full of pain. The thought of my new life not being quite so dreadful filled me with hope.
"Skyfire and I had a talk, and after an evaluation of the offers you made... I can only see it as good. She does fair by your people, until such a time as the rest of us can do the same, by working to pay off the debt we owe you for all of the astonishing generosity you have shown us. What's more, she will gather intelligence for me so that I can evaluate what the future actions of my squad will be. Ultimately, these two agenda will serve to bring the ultimate goal to fruition. That is, that our two peoples can coexist here in peace. Do you object to my reasoning?" the pegasus captain asked.
I shook my head, using the seconds to get my surprise under control. "No, certainly not. I agree with you every step of the way, sir. It's just... I mean, I gave the propositions, but I didn't actually expect acceptance. It was tense, you know. A few hours ago I was tasked with dealing with the threat you posed in any way I deemed necessary. We were enemies. Now here we are... the world just moves so fast."
He smirked. "Well, since you insist on calling me 'sir' cause you say you're inexperienced in wasteland life, here's a bit of advise: life moves fast out here. Sometimes trying to rationalize stuff just gives you a headache, clutters your thoughts. Just let stuff happen, take them as they are. Works wonders for keeping sane in an insane world."
I let out a puff of air and nodded, my eyes narrowed in thought. "If you say so, sir."
"Good! Now if you don't mind me, Goldwreath, I haven't had a good rest in days."
I stood. "Yes, of course sir. Be at peace. You're safe here; you and your squad. Rest well, captain." I rendered the Roaman salute and turned to leave. Skyfire followed.
Once outside, she stood next to me. "Well, that went just about as I thought it would," she said, stretching and cracking her neck. "Gotta say, Goldwreath, you've got a pretty silvery tongue there to say something to me that, when said to someone else, still seems convincing. I ain't articulate for shit, but you seem good with words. Good on you."
"I practice," I replied, looking at her. When she had done stretching and saw me staring, she cocked her head sideways.
"Huh, what?" she asked.
I cut right to my point. "You wanted this, didn't you?" I questioned, not hoping to sound in any way apprehensive or disgruntled, because I was far from either. I just needed to hear it from her. "You want to go into that wasteland with me." She gave me a long look and smiled, looking away bashfully.
"How come?" I pressed.
She looked at me with a simple smile, then shrugged. "Eh, you're cute. Mares like checking out stallions from the rear, too," she said, and my eyes popped wide and I reeled back.
"Wh-whaaa-?" I mumbled, mouth agape, shaking my head as I felt my crimson cheeks turn even redder.
The mare broke into laughter, wrapping a hoof around my neck to keep herself from falling to the floor. "Celestia's mane, Goldwreath! Geez, it's nothing to get worked up about. What, mares never told you you're cute or something?" She broke into more laughter.
"As a matter of fact, no they haven't. Except for my mother," I said. It may have been a mistake. The mention of my mother made her eyes water and her outburst turn to wheezing. I grumbled out my extreme discomfort, wondering how my very serious series of questions had resulted in this drama.
After a while Skyfire composed herself, though she couldn't help but giggle for a little longer. "Alright, alright. Sorry -- that was weird on my part, I'll admit," she said, detaching herself from me and wiping a tear from her eye.
"Damn straight," I muttered.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, then regarded me smugly. "Shit, Goldwreath, what do I say? The first reason aside, staying in one place? Ugh, I can't! I need to fly. It's way too boring for me." She placed both forehooves underneath her sockets and pulled, making her eyes bulge out as she stretched the skin. "So boring! I'm damn glad Breezetail had the sense to put me on this assignment. Celestia bless that stallion for knowing me so well."
I suppose I could understand that. As a pegasus locked up in a Stable all my life, I'd always been more restless than most. The urge to fly and be free had always been with me, though I'd simply been forced to temper it. Truth be told, now that I had no metal roof over my head the only thing keeping me from taking to the skies was a fear of the unknown. The sight of the outside had put me on my haunches the first time; if I saw this world from high up, it would be wondrous, but also incredibly daunting. I would embrace that experience, in due time. No rush.
"So those are your reasons?" I asked. "Following me around because they're your orders, because you can't stay in one place, and because you think I'm... er... cute?" I shifted from side to side, feeling jittery inside. "Good to know, I suppose."
Skyfire smirked. "Wow, that really threw you off, huh? Gotta remember that. Could make for some good... entertainment... if things get too boring. " She chuckled. "Nah, but seriously, not just cause you're cute. More to it than that. I can't say I trust you too much just yet -- shit, we've known each other for, what three hours? I've yet to see all of you, you know? And I'm sure there's more about me you'd wanna know, too. But hey, you've been pretty good to me so far, and that's all I really care about. Good company's a must in the wasteland. Enclave couldn't understand that with their heads so far up their asses, they were practically eating their own shit. Seclusion just ain't the way to go anymore, not with people starting to get smart again. So I'll work with you and hope for the best. That's not so hard to understand, is it?"
"No. No, I suppose not," I smiled, at last satisfied. I would've been willing to let her accompany had she not spilled as much as she did, but I was glad she was being honest.
I looked out towards the ruins. "Well, that's settled then. Mind you, we won't be heading out just yet. For one thing, we've got to wait for Vesperius to get your equipment back in working order. Hopefully it's a priority for him and it'll be done soon. I've also got a few loose ends to tie up here. So you just go about how you want first -- check out the camp, talk to people if you're feeling like it. I'll just find you when it's time to head out."
She gave me a quick salute and smiled brashly. "You got it, boss. See you around, Goldwreath." She winked at me, and with that she jumped and took to the air, flying towards the camp whilst hovering a few dozen feet above the ground. Those who saw her pointed and looked amazed.
I felt that the whole encounter had gone quite well -- except perhaps for that awkward comment of hers. It was hard for me to imagine that such a headstrong mare could so casually toss around such flirty statements. Or was it actually flirting? Agh, I didn't know. Not like I'd ever had experience. Mares were strange. Maybe I should have asked mother...
Anyway! Certainly much would need to be affirmed, but so far I was amazed at how incredibly well things had gone since arriving back at the camp. Was all this success perhaps just predecessor to dire disappointments, or indicative of even more fortune? I couldn't say. Certainly I hoped for the latter, but this being the wasteland and not the cozy and controlled Marediolanon, I had to expect much ill circumstance in the future. Ill circumstances like death, lost trust, ruined relations. All depressing, but very real. That was the truth of the matter that was simply beyond me.
Of course, I had some power to maintain the things closest to me. As a subject of thought, I could relax on anything pertaining to Skyfire for now; Delvius was still a puzzle I had to work through -- but definitely no more a puzzle than Myst, whose every move and thought perplexed and frustrated me, while also enticing my deepest curiosities. Curiosities that demanded satisfaction. She was probably still out cold, but I could hope.
I turned around and approached the auxiliary medical tents, looking for her.
***Roama Victrix***
"Thank you. That certainly saves me time," I said, bowing gratefully to the medical zebra who'd been patient enough to stop and entertain a lost pony's questions.
I followed his directions. The furthest tent was where Myst was at. Just as Delvius had described -- though this applied to all the medical tents -- she was being housed in a red and white field tent, this one situated at the very edge of the formation of aid stations that formed this camp's aid station.
I deduced that, given the largest of the tents had only Skyfire's squad as patients, there was no reason to believe the other tents were occupied. These were, after all, auxiliary tents, to be filled when the primary facility was overtaxed. It led me to question why Myst hadn't simply been placed in the main tent. Did Vesperius feel the isolation would be good for her? He couldn't have known her preference for solace. Or perhaps he simply believed her injuries were more severe and required less outside disturbance? That didn't comfort me. I swallowed and turned my trotting to a canter, hurrying towards it.
At last I reached out with a hoof and made to pull aside the flaps, when a tension in my body stopped me cold. I couldn't say why, or how, but my mind was suddenly filled with adrenaline. Combat instinct. I felt jittery, ready to lash out at some invisible opponent like my own life depended on it. This sensation was so compelling and sudden I reflexively pulled out my gladius and, with ionized blade, stormed inside the tent.
My eyes quickly scanned the area. The layout was much less conducive to a communal healing experience. There were only three beds here, arranged in a semicircle before the entrance, each accompanied by all sorts of advanced medical equipment. And it was dark -- all lights were off, save for the flashing bulbs of the various machines. The outside light could not penetrate the interior, for the walls of the tent were braced on the inside by a thick foam padding. The floor was made of wooden planks instead of being just plain dirt, and each of the three beds were sectioned off from each other by translucent glass. The vibe emitted was almost that of a true hospital rather than a crude field tent.
None of this put me at ease, though I still could not fathom the source of my sudden impulse. I could not at all reason out why I was so ready to kill something, or how I had come to feel that way. Perhaps if some innocent, ordinary Legion surgeon came up to me and assured me all was well, I would've been placated and let my irrational instinct fade. But there was not a soul in sight, and the darkness only heightened my sense of alertness.
I moved forward. The faint lights were barely enough to make out any details. For vision I used the illumination of my gladius' blade, and held it out in front of me as I walked past each bed. Each one empty, their areas pristine and untouched. All except for the last.
"Myst!" I breathed a sigh of relief and moved forward, looking down at her. Poor mare. To the light of my blade, she was pale and sickly looking, marred by patches of burnt fur and raw hide. She was breathing, though, and I thanked the gods for that. All the tubes going into her nose and into her skin irked me, but I knew those were for her speedy recovery, regardless of how ghastly a sight they were. But I supposed, all considered, she looked far less terrible than I'd feared.
I didn't want to touch her, because who knew what injury I may have aggravated. Still, there couldn't have been harm in lifting the blanket so I could see how the rest of her fared, right? I spotted a nearby lightswitch and flicked it. White light bathed us from above.
I motioned to sheathe my blade. Then my eyes caught a glimpse of a dark shape and I jumped back, scared witless with ice in my veins, pointing the gladius at the form I'd mistaken for shadow just moments before.
A moment of intense panic and pure reflex ensued, one which almost made me slash down to cut this thing in half. I abstained only through sheer awe and terror at the sight before me. This figure... whatever it was, it in shape resembled a pony or a zebra -- but one so massive and bulky even my own size was dwarfed. Clad head-to-hoof in thick black mesh and armored at the torso and joints by huge metal plates, whoever this was appeared to be some unholy marriage of armored mechanical suit and genetically modified super-soldier. How else to explain the terrifying proportions of the limbs -- thick and robust, encased in a machine shell of pistons and mesh? Not even mentioning the body, which was endowed with a veritable chassis adorned with countless utilities of war: nooks and hooks for holding weapons, built-in scabbards for all sorts of blades, and even compartments for the safe storage of explosives.
And then there was the helmet. Bulky and round, with breathing apparatus that protruded from the front like some hungry maw. The glass visor was old and cracked, dusty and scraped. I could see nothing in those black eyeslots: no sign of life or of a person, and that only terrified me further.
Immediately, I knew the source of the panic that'd gripped me ever since stepping inside this place. The very aura exuded from this thing prompted in me extreme prejudice and judgement. I needed to kill it. I needed to strike it down. It was a danger to everything within miles of here. The very nature of its appearance screamed 'killing machine'. 'Murderer'. 'Freak of nature'. And surely it must've been all these -- in a world full of all the wonders of magic, it takes a special kind of evil to induce dread without ever even being noticed. If indeed this thing had the arcane at its command, it could only be that much more of a threat.
It must feel Justice's burn! roared a voice in my head.
Every fibre of my being was screaming for its death; the unity of my decision was absolute, almost as if it had been made artificially so, for I doubt one could ever be so sure of anything. I would've stabbed it, right in the face. Oh yes, I would have, gladly... if not for an abrupt and extremely jarring neutralization of my emotions, like mountains of ice dropped suddenly on flowing lava. My passionate want for its death was suddenly reduced to a discomfort. I hadn't wanted to believe this thing was even a person, let alone one deserving of dignity. But as my hearing was flooded with a calm humming noise and my tense limbs were made numb, I found myself forced by suspicious exhaustion to take another look at this terrifying creature.
I looked over its... his? Her? Ugh, I looked over the armor again, and saw it slagged; sections of the metal and the mesh were melted together, broken into jagged patterns that pierced inward as well as protruded outward. A fine layer of ash covered the entirety of the suit, and in some places -- particularly the joints -- dark liquid dripped slowly from bleeding wounds. The figure was slumped where it sat, unmoving and derelict in all appearance. There was no rising or falling of the chest to indicate breathing, no reaction to the presence of my blade. Was this thing dead?
Then I saw the lone medical tube lodged right into a bloody hole in the mesh, right at the neck. I saw also a bunch of empty syringes on a nearby table, as well as the hollowed out husks of painkiller bottles.
I grimaced at the sight of all this. Then from within the metal confines of the helmet a deep, hoarse voice intoned sluggishly, "Mm... rightfully wary are the startled when a surprise presents itself -- and to those who've not gotten used to my presence, and often even then, a disturbing sight must be the one clad in blackest armor. But to kill me? I who am currently a simple patient in need of medical aid? In better times I'd challenge you to try. But as an injured knight would be foolhardy to joust, so too would I be nonsensical in provoking whosoever has the advantage."
A he. At last I had something definite to call this thing. Male -- and articulate at that. Not merely some brute creature of war like I had feared. I didn't feel better about him at all, though.
He leaned forward, growling with pain the whole while. The very beastly sound rattled me, and I backed away, tightening my grip on the blade.
"But you too would make for a mysterious case if you were cut me down without even knowing my name, or my purpose, or my affiliation. Strange introductory circumstances these are, oh yesss..." A pondering, curious clicking noise rattled from his throat as he seemed to fall into thought. For a moment he said nothing. Then he turned to me sharply, boring his unseen eyes into me.
"But not unsalvageable. So, I put my good foreleg forward for you..." He stretched out his massive right foreleg to me. Its span was a whole leg's segment longer than my own, and nearly twice as thick. "... and lay my title for you to hear. I am Predator. Not a name of my own choosing, but it will do."
I looked down at his extended foreleg and paused. I could say much on why I hesitated, but it would all ultimately boil down to the same thing: I was scared of this guy and didn't trust him. So many unknowns. If indeed he had needed medical aid, why would he settle for such mediocre treatment? There were two other empty stations here, yet he chose to sit right next to Myst and settle on painkillers. That fact alone threw up a whole slew of red flags up in my mind. Now here he was, posing as a civil and decent being despite all evidence making him out to be a threat. Damned if I could just take his leg in greeting without second thought.
But in the end, Roaman tradition prompted me to extend my own leg forward. I grimaced and swallowed as I made contact -- the very feel of his armored limb was deathly cold and ominously heavy. I had no doubt he could crush bones with its mere weight.
We held the position for a brief moment, neither motioning to embrace the gesture fully. I drew back and took in a deep breath, my skin crawling.
"Apprehension. Nothing new to me. Fear is a tool indeed, but one can clearly see its opposition to establishing connections," he said.
"You'll excuse my lack of enthusiasm for this encounter, then," I said, sheathing my gladius. As much as Predator's presence irked me, my oddly murderous impulse had passed, replaced instead by a perpetual distrust. "For indeed, you are a frightening sight. Your admittance of your own... eh, 'quirks', doesn't quite help your case, I'm afraid."
"The knowingly-frightening wouldn't expect as much." He stretched out his good leg again, but this time just relieve himself. He groaned with satisfaction. "This is my state of being. It stirs suspicion and fear in the hearts of others. A mere... side-effect of being myself. One cannot escape one's nature, and in my case that nature is one of proficiency in the arts of death."
"Oh, I have no doubt. You certainly look the part." Why was I even prolonging this conversation? It was pointless and put me ill at ease. There were many people I could tolerate in my life, many situations I could endure for the sake of civility and decency. This was not one of them. Was I discriminating against Predator and depriving him of the patience I had so readily extended to others in the past? I hate to say, but yes. Between his obvious occupation and capabilities, and his proximity to Myst, I simply could not find it in me to be gentle and subtle with my desire to have him at a distance.
With that in mind, I pointed at one of the empty stations. "There're two open beds in this tent. I suggest you head over to them, instead. Surely a surgeon will come to you, and their attention would be much more valuable than the meagre help you've given yourself. I'm not comfortable with your presence around my friend," I said, making my desires clear. "I'd rather keep her company myself. I'm sure you understand."
He looked at Myst, then back at me. "Your friend, hm? Most fortuitous. Desolate she appeared; to my mind, the thought came that maybe she was some poor soul the Legion found left for dead. Under that presumption, it seemed only decent to keep her company. To be alone in the dark is not pleasant. To wake up alone in the dark? That is worse."
"I'm sure it is," I said, holding back the urge to roll my eyes. "Now, if you don't mind. I'd like to look keep her company -- on my own."
He stood, presenting his full and unbridled size. He must've stretched a meter from shoulder to shoulder and stood five feet tall -- massive proportions for any zebra or pony. The gravity of his presence emanated lumbering might, and when he stepped forward I was so sure he'd pulverize me for suggesting such an inconvenience. My hoof instinctively went to my blade again.
But he made no such lethal gesture. Instead he simply brought a foreleg up to his neck and yanked out the tube with one swift motion, sparing me from listening to the sickly sloppy sound for too long. He grunted with pain.
"Ugh." I shuddered. "Sorry to ask this of you, but I'm sure you'll be fine," I said, not quite hoping for it. "You're a big guy."
"For you," he replied plainly. Then he stepped to the side and lumbered off. His passing was like a dark shroud being lifted. Suddenly Myst's bed area seemed brighter, as though the whole time the light had been muted. He went over to the bed just opposite us and sat down.
Now that he was away I could at least pretend to be at ease. I sat next to Myst and reclined, trying my best to feel as I had wanted upon coming to this place -- relaxed, patient for her awakening, eager to see her. But I could feel Predator's eyes on me. The creep was staring at us from the dark, sitting totally still like some gargoyle. It was disturbing. Unnerving. Would he do anything to us? I sat vigilant regardless, hoof on my gladius. Had he never mucked up my very simple plan to rest in Myst's presence, I'd have slept contentedly. Now I was on full alert, ready to defend myself and the mare next to me at Predator's first move.
But nothing. He just sat there watching me, and I him. A stalemate that lasted for a time I cared not to measure.
***Roama Victrix***
In our contest, I was surprised but haughty in my victory. Eventually, he stood -- and in so doing broke eye contact first. I don't know, perhaps he never believed us to be in some tense circumstance, but I know I certainly believed it.
In all our stay here, none had intruded. If the surgeons had believed Myst to be in need of attention, they would have come -- and, though I loathed to think it, they would have tended to Predator, too. But despite his obvious injuries no one had arrived to help him. This lead me to wonder if they even knew he was in here at all.
Predator spent a moment stretching. Then when that was done he looked straight at me. I could not fathom the intent in his eyes, for I could not see them. Perhaps that was just as he desired. Before long he took a tentative step towards the exit and, seeming to overcome some kind of hesitation, hastily made towards it. The weight of his steps reverberated throughout the whole tent. He threw aside both flaps and disappeared into the darkness outside.
Just like that, contact with Predator ended for the night.
"Freak," I muttered to myself. Then I looked down at Myst. Still breathing, still healing. The stoic expression I'd upheld for who knows how long softened as I reached out and brushed her soft cheek, careful not to make contact with her wounds.
How much longer? The wait for her awakening was growing worrisomely long now at three days, even if I had been unconscious myself for two of those. I wanted to hear her voice again. I wanted to confide in her and recount all the happenings since, and to likewise hear her own tale of the underground anomaly. Little at that moment could I appreciate more than simply talking with her, to know that she would live and continue on with me. Poor mare. To have been so unlucky in life, and now so unlucky to suffer further. Injustice of the highest echelon, for what could one so meek have done to deserve all that? If not injustice, then was that simply the way of the world? If so, fuck the world. It needed to change, not her. It was the very edict of civilization to rescue people, especially the weak, from the horrors of savagery, under the principle that all had worth. And in Myst I had seen much of that worth; not in her skills, nor in her achievements, but in her capacity to feel and to think. That was what made people people.
I sighed as I looked her over, my heart aching with pity. By impulse I bent over to kiss her forehead, and with the gesture whispered a prayer. "Be well, sweet mare," I said.
For a long while I simply stared at her. Then I looked aside and saw yet another figure before me, and once more I yelped in surprise and jumped, crashing into a table. I drew my blade and stood in a rush. But no, no threatening figure or frightening abomination stood before me. Just Vesperius.
He stood with both eyes wide open, staring cross-eyed at my blade. Carefully balanced on his back were two small plates filled with food, and next to one of these was a mug of coffee.
He glanced back at his coffee questioningly. "Hm. Maybe I really ought to have accepted that praetorian escort after all. Or maybe I've drank too much?" he muttered, "Coffee doesn't do that, though. Or does it? I must be hallucinating again. Wondrous." He shuddered. "Gods I need sleep."
I swallowed and blinked hard, making sure that the person before was indeed Vesperius and not some sort of, as he put it, hallucination. My hooves trembled as I swallowed to ease my dry throat. "Ah, n-no sir," I managed after a moment, sheathing my blade and praying he wouldn't take offense at what I'd done. "I'm no hallucination. You simply caught me by surprise. I was in a thought-trance, I think... and in those moments I'm almost completely detached from the world. My perception was never the best to begin with, but in those times it's just pathetic."
"Oh." He looked almost disappointed. "Shame. I really could've used a hallucination. Could've turned it lucid. Oh wait, that only applies to dreams." He shook his head and put a hoof to his temples. "Oh yes, really need sleep. Or maybe more coffee. That always helps." With that he laid the two plates of food down on the nearby table, and with one swift chug downed all of his coffee. His pupils dilated. "Much better."
"Um. Sir, maybe you need to sit down..." I beckoned.
"Oh yes, yes perhaps I should," he replied, and he sat down next to the bed just like me. "Don't worry about me. Work days are tiring, and this is no different. I've gotten used to it. Still, there was one more item on the to-do list, and that was to talk to you, as I earlier said. It just so happened to be dinner time, so I thought I'd obtain some rations before heading out to find you. I was correct in assuming you'd be here."
"Oh. Why, thank you, sir. Your consideration humbles me," I said, picking up one of the plates and looking over its contents. It wasn't much -- just some steamed grain porridge with sauce and strips of meat, with spices and herbs tossed in. Still, it looked appetizing enough, and I'd forsaken my stomach to watch over Myst. Sitting here quietly eating would be a nice change from the tense hours before -- and it certainly helped that Vesperius was such a placid fellow I felt absolutely no need to adhere to some convoluted code of conduct, as I would've had to in the presence of larger egos.
"Talk to me about what, though? Why schedule this meeting with me?" I asked after a moment.
To this he simply shrugged. "Well, a topic or two. At the time I considered asking you about the pegasi you brought in, for example, and how things are in that regard. However, recent reports tell me that you've quite snugly settled those matters. If you are at peace with them and whatever arrangements they have proposed, given they are reasonable, I am certain I will have no trouble myself when some time later this week I look over the official paperwork. It is not enough to agree verbally, you know. These things have to be legitimized."
"Of course. And yes, matters with the pegasi are quite fine as of now." I thought of Skyfire and her willingness to journey with me and smiled. "Incredibly so, actually. I almost can't believe it. Like I said earlier, sir, you're partially to thank for that," I replied.
"I've granted myself some pride for it," he said. "Just the right amount. So, if those matters are settled, we can move on. Next, I must speak with you about Arachnia -- or as those people you brought with you know it, Spiderhole."
At this I straightened up. "What of it, sir?"
"I determined the matter was of great significance. I sent a detachment accompanied by a few of my finest dignitaries to pacify the situation there, and to recover Thanus' legionaries," he said, making me balk. I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued, "Now, now. I understand the level of turmoil present there. I've read the reports, and ever since you arrived here I've had an agent of mine interview -- not interrogate -- some of the denizens you brought with you. It is indeed a great big mess, a headache of the highest degree, but I cannot allow Imperius to establish his own pseudo-Legion and claim to be affiliated with us, and in so doing tarnishing our reputation. I also certainly cannot allow my own soldiers to be held captive, even if they may be treated fairly. So I will do with Arachnia as my legates do with the other shelters. That is, I will establish talks with them and come to a beneficial agreement. If that cannot be achieved, well..." He drew back and took a deep breath. "It may call for more aggressive measures. But I hope it needn't come to that."
I sat there solemnly for a moment, remembering my ordeals in the troublesome and convoluted political mess that was Spiderhole. I wasn't so sure about this at all, but Vesperius was far more experienced than I in these matters. And if he could indeed pacify Spiderhole before it became a big enough factor in Legion operations, who was I to complain? The memory of the place and of what happened there was in the background of my mind, but heavy and dark. Yes, it would be good to hear at some point that Spiderhole was no longer a problem.
"I defer to your judgement, Vesperius," I said after a while. "I hope you have more luck there than I had. All my efforts there were for naught. The result of my failure was tragedy."
"Don't blame yourself. From what I hear, Imperius was at fault for the slaughter there. I for one cannot fathom what goes through the minds of people like him." He shook his head. Then noticing the somber and heavy mood that ensued, he smiled and brushed a hoof to the side. "Ah, but enough of that. The matter will settle itself. For now, let us eat. The food is getting cold."
He picked up his own plate and started to go through it. I did the same. Vesperius seemed to take solace in the silence, liking it and taking refuge in it from the hustle of his work. In this way we were alike, at least for that time, for I too simply desired for the day to end already. It had been an exhausting set of events from waking up to sitting where I sat.
Yet after a while Vesperius broke the silence and said, "I overheard you, you know." I gave him a quizzical look. "All that you said to her. Indeed, your perception was very minimal. I entered just as you brushed her cheek, and stopped to observe. Did you not notice me?"
"Um. I, uh..." I could feel my cheeks going warm as I shifted uncomfortably. Eck, so much for not needing to fuss over myself in his presence. "No. No, sir... I didn't."
"You have feelings for her, don't you?" he asked.
I sighed and bowed my head. "Yes, sir."
"Clearly. There was a fire in your eyes when you drew your sword that could only have been the protective instincts of one so emotionally invested in another. Your actions spoke for themselves."
"I would have done the same for any in need, sir," I replied. "But yes, I suppose I was predisposed to such actions. Especially for her." I looked over to the mare. "I just... I just wanted to keep her company. To keep her safe. It felt like... my duty, but one not obligated. I wanted to be here, and it was a want unlike any other desire I've ever had. I expected no returns, yet hoped that maybe she'd wake up. I desired merely her presence, yet am left wanting for something more."
I shook my head and sat there in my confusion. "These feelings perplex me."
"I take it you must've never loved before?" Vesperius questioned. I thought on it.
"No, sir. But isn't love stretching it? I've known her for about four days."
He smiled in a rare show of open emotion. "Oh. Well, I can't claim to answer that. All I know is that there're few things worth valuing in the wasteland -- and willing companionship is chief among these. Perhaps it is not love, but if she desires to be with you then I am certain that the tumult of your experiences shared will meld you two in a bond strong as the sturdiest shield wall. And like that shield wall, you two will face the malice and the horrors of the world and not break. Such is the case with any genuine friendship you can find, before or since. But indeed, there is always room in there for love. You can hope, Goldwreath."
"Well, I'm quite glad there's that, then," I replied, smiling faintly. Then I frowned again as I looked her over. "Still, one thing at a time. My primary concern right now is her immediate well-being. How long will she be out, and when does wake, how will she fare... things like that. I cannot for the life of me pass a moment wherein concern for her isn't rooted there somewhere in the rear of my thoughts. It's almost maddening. And then there are the potential dangers to her..."
I grimaced as Predator came to mind. With him gone, I was able to think back on our encounter and objectively deduce that I had been extremely biased and not just a little bit rude. Maybe it was the sheer uncertainty and strangeness about him. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to have a keen interest in Myst. More likely, maybe it was the severe distrust planted in me by that inexplicable aura. Or perhaps it was all of these combined. All I knew is that when one encounters an abnormal fellow creepily eyeing one's friend, then by all intents and purposes said fellow must be dealt with prejudice. Still... if our next encounter wasn't under such stressful circumstances I would certainly give him more of my standard consideration. The wasteland was a wild place, I kept reminding myself. The natural diversity among persons was heightened by the extreme living conditions of the outside. Every single one of these new faces I met had a story, and surely Predator was no different.
"Oh. Well, worry not too much. You and your friends are all quite safe here, in this camp. Not a single soul passes through these grounds that I am not made aware of," Vesperius assured, sounding deadly serious. I looked at him and saw intense surety in his eyes. "Not. A single. Soul. The gods watch over us, Goldwreath. All who dwell here have only friendly intentions."
It was at that point that I desired to bring up my encounter with Predator, and to test Vesperius' statement. But I refrained if only because I believed to already know the answer. Had Predator indeed been some intruder looking for quick aid, he certainly didn't need to barge into the camp. An ambush on a patrol and a quick pilfering could easily result in medical supplies. What's more, for all his shadowy vibes, he had made no attempt to stealthily leave this tent just earlier. So did Predator indeed fall under Vesperius category of 'known, friendly' souls? Gods, the thought of it disturbed me despite my concessions that I had been too harsh on the guy.
As tended to be the case with me, I must've let my doubts show on my face. Vesperius offered, "I can nonetheless order a guard detachment to watch over her, if you so desire. I understand you may find the idea of letting strangers watch over her to be most refutable-..."
"With all due respect sir, I do," I interjected. "Just... wanted to make it clear now. Time is very valuable for you, I know. No point making you drone on for something that'll have no yield."
"Mm," he shrugged, "Alright then. Indeed, time is important to me. Why, I've just spent half my eating time talking with you. I suppose if I eliminate my pre-sleep meditation I can still stomach this..." He looked down at his plate of food, and sighed. He looked up at me with a tired smile. "Be glad you're not me, Goldwreath. A life governed by strict scheduling is predictable, and so has little to fear... but oh, so tedious. Oh well, it has its ups and downs."
"Sir, if you're attempting to excuse yourself for an immediate withdrawal, by all means go on," I told him. "You have my thanks for the food, for I had nearly neglected myself in that regard, and for the talk especially -- it put me at ease. I suppose I can sleep a little easier tonight knowing some loose ends are being tied for me."
"Alright then." He stood, carefully balancing his plate on his back once more. "When you're done just put your dishes on the table nearest the door. A nurse comes through here every few hours to check on patients and the like. And, oh yes, this camp isn't quite equipped with auxiliary barracks I'm afraid. The people of Spiderhole have made due the past few days sharing what little space the legion here could spare -- which includes this tent. So yes, you can decide to lay your head on one of these beds, or right where you sit, next to her. Just don't be surprised if you wake up in the morning with a few neighbours."
I nodded. "Noted."
He gave me his own nod. "Goodnight, Goldwreath," he said, and promptly left.
Given the trend of the past few hours, someone would waltz in while I was least vigilant and surprise me. But even though it mustn't have even been late evening, I was oh so tired, and was nearing the point of being unable to care if I were being watched or not. I removed myself from all the heavy articles upon me -- shield, weapons, ammo... and these I laid carefully and compactly, in the manner taught to me by Horus, against the wall. My gladius I kept close and my armor on, though. Just in case. Those done, I promptly finished my rations, laid the plate near the entrance as Vesperius instructed, and returned to my spot next to Myst. I let out a breath and, faster than I would've expected, slipped into sleep.
Entry #9 Nothing new today, though I did make some good Friends in the centuria. We'll see how that goes, I suppose.
Skyfire added to party. This feisty pegasus mare uses her speed and maneuverability to strike enemies from the air. She is an ideal scout and a valuable asset when the bullets start flying.
"Such were the events that transpired that night," the crimson pegasus finished.
"Well, that fills that gap," Delvius replied, typing down the last of Goldwreath's words. "I was indeed curious what you were up to at that time. Me, I was off at celebration. It's a wild time when desperate people meet a stockpile of wine, haha."
Goldwreath chuckled, "Believe me, I know. Summer Sands was like that on most festivals, just... standing and watching. Poor guy."
Delvius reclined in his seat, packing up all his things. "Well, anyway, I ought to leave you once more. You've work to do, I'm sure."
"Actually, not too much," the pegasus replied, sighing and rubbing his forehead. "But it is late and I desire nothing more than to rest. Myst is waiting for me, and you know her fondness for... eh, cuddles."
Delvius smirked. " Go. Keep your mare happy. I'll make do with any sources I can speak to. Not like I'm in a rush to compile this thing, though I bet the sooner it's done the sooner the Roaman world can consolidate under you. People need to learn what happened here, and by Mercury, such news is best told in tales. Stories excite."
"Certainly. And, though I'm sure you've considered it already, I suggest you thus go to a particularly exciting mare for your next segments."
Delvius' brows rose. "Well, I was thinking of it, but I didn't realize you'd actually recommend her. I mean... you and I both know how she is with telling stories."
"It was something we had to get used to, yes," Goldwreath admitted. Then he smiled and looked out the window. "But you know, there's a charm to her style. And who wouldn't want to hear the story of what an Equestrian-turned-Roaman thought of her first plunge into our section of the wasteland?"
Goldwreath took a deep breath, nodding to himself. "Yes, yes it will make for a good story, just like mine. Just like Myst's. And of course, there's a whole demographic she can appeal to that we can't. To leave others out of this simply because they don't like how I say things? I cannot allow it. Such a waste of so much sacrifice. Yes, Skyfire's stories will be good. Just excuse her speech."
Chapter XII Telling Stories “There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.”
Alright, alright. Here we go! Take a seat, Delvius. Time for a trip down memory lane, eh?
...
Delvius? What, you aren't excited or something? Speak up, dude!
Um... uh. Huh. Well, I see what Goldwreath meant about you having some style of sorts. I normally just let my interviewees tell their story.
Psht. That's boring. Oh, sure, I can see Goldwreath and Myst going on like that. One's got an ego and the other... well, doesn't. But come on, dude. We're friends. No point keeping things cold. I talk and you talk, that's how we do this. Alright?
Hah. Well, I'll try to keep up. What's the worse that could happen? Could be fun.
That's what I like to hear! Alright, now let's get to it. Where are we up to now, again? Oh, oh I remember now! Second day in Roam.
Okay, right, so I woke up. And my head was pounding, my mouth filled with this weird-ass aftertaste. That's what I got for drinking too much, I guess. My body didn't feel right, and the stiff mattress beneath me didn't help. For a few minutes, I think, I just laid there and took some deep breaths. Hangovers ain't no joke. So for the first-time drinkers out there, just... don't. Moderation, kids. Take it from me.
When I finally did sit up -- and I immediately regretted it, cause it felt like the blood drained from my brain, leaving my head hollow and light -- I almost fell back down. And, you know, that's when you showed up. And...?
Hm? And? When I showed up... oh, oh right! Well, uh, I saw you looking ready to pass out and rushed over to keep you up. I remembered how cold you were to me the first time we met, and I was damn sure you didn't remember me when you were in the middle of that party. So I thought, 'I need make a good impression this time around.' What can I say, being given the cold shoulder didn't sit well with me. You know how that is.
Uhuh, yup. So there you were, holding me up. Geez, I remember giving you a stare, my headache making way for a ton of confusion. I looked you over and was like, "The fuck are you doing, holding me like that?" and shook myself free. See, the day before, when I flew into the camp, I was feeling better about things -- but, like, not that much better. I was level-headed just enough to feel curious. So when I saw some zebras tearing it up around that fire, drinking and laughing, I thought, 'Damn, I need to unwind.' And there were drinks, so why the hell not, right? That they were friendly enough and seemed to share my curiosity helped. Still, I got no memory of how that party went. Everything's just a blur, even now. So, yeah, I got defensive. I didn't expect to see you.
Well, I kept my distance during the party. I watched you cause I had nothing better to do -- and that's not sad at all, I swear. I'd done all I had to do, so I had time to kill. When things wound down and your fellow partygoers had laid you down in the bunk, I thought it'd be good for you to wake up to the sight of someone you at least sort of knew. So I slept in that chair next your bed, and thought little else of what might happen.
Of course, that lack of thought didn't prepare me for you acting all apprehensive. Again. So when you shook me off I felt like shit, wondering if I'd been stupid to think I could change your opinion of me.
Yeah, I saw it on your face. Honestly, after a while, I thought maybe I was being a little too harsh on you. To begin with, I'd only snubbed you the day before cause I was a mopey bitch and my thoughts were clouded with all sorts of emotional crap. So actually, on that day, the hangover aside, I really was feeling better about things.
I remember turning to you, feeling guilty. Now, I didn't really know how to start repairing whatever feelings of yours I'd hurt, so I just went, "What're you doing here, Delvius?" And you should remember, I didn't ask it in a polite tone. I wouldn't put it past you to have felt like I was being hostile or something.
Well, your tone definitely didn't help. But you spoke to me and that was what mattered. Even if I didn't feel as eager to continue, I knew I hadn't failed just yet. So I soldiered on, explaining myself -- how I saw you getting drunk and thought, 'This mare needs to be watched over.' So I did. It just felt right. Something could've happened, and if I heard about it the next day, knowing I could've prevented it, well...
You'd guilt yourself over it?
Oh yeah.
Oh you. You're pretty soft on the inside, ain'tcha? Well anyway, I got convinced. Okay, not convinced convinced, but at that point I figured if you were gonna go to such lengths to keep an eye on me, I could at least stop snubbing you.
I had a pretty big smile on my face when you finally said I was okay afterall.
Eh, I'll tell you now what I didn't say then. My 'graciousness' wasn't all that hard for me to give. Hell, I'd told Goldwreath just the day before that he was alright and shit, and that stallion knocked me out and tied me to a pole. Well, whatever, you know? I'd gotten sick of harboring distrust and all that negative emotional crap inside of me. I guess, looking back at it all, I can say that my quickness to make friends was me subconsciously wanting to stop being such a whiny cunt. Wah, the Enclave kicked us out; wah, why can't you guys understand why I had to do this? Ugh.
Well, all I cared for at the time was that you finally weren't tearing into me with those eyes. My relationship with Goldwreath at that time was, like... cold. I mean, he had a sense of tact that you damn well didn't, but the guy definitely didn't think much good of me at first. And I didn't blame him. Maybe I had come off too strong, getting so close to him, talking to him so soon after Spiderhole. Still, it hit me kinda hard. I couldn't stick in Spiderhole because of what Imperius had done. I couldn't fathom serving under him any longer. I knew nothing of the surface. Goldwreath was my only lead, so I clung to his trail like a leach. So when the guy himself raises a brow at me, it was like... so, do I keep following this guy? What do I do otherwise? I mean, I could’ve gotten outfitted with Legion gear and spoken to Legion officers about being an auxiliary and stuff, but... I guess my heart wasn't really in it. Going back into service, I mean. If it turned out my next superior was some other nutjob, that would've killed all faith I had in that way of life.
But Goldwreath... hah, well, he was different. We all know this. We who were in his little group. He had authority but didn't flaunt it; charisma but didn't abuse it. I guess I just saw the guy as my next officer. At least for a while. Until I could sort my own thoughts out. So I stuck with him.
Well, it all turned out for the best, right? Here we are now, after all. So, back to the story. I was hungry. Stomach growled while you were sitting there, trying to keep your smile to yourself. I remember asking you what kind of grub you Roamans had around those parts.
Hah! You asked it with such disdain. 'Ugh. Hey Delvius, what kinda grub you Roamans got around here aside from that porridge crap? More edible stuff, I hope.' Well, an hour later you were stuffed and happy.
Don't rub it in. What can I say, a lifetime of eating the blandest apples you can imagine didn't exactly give me high standards for cuisine. So, yeah, damn right I was glad to find something with flavor. Celestia knows the world needs better food. I don't recall, though. What exactly was it that you brought over from outside? I kinda just went all out, didn't think on it at all.
Spiced grain stew with meat strips and olive oil. Now, grain? Yeah, I could imagine it growing in the wasteland. Meat? Eh, can come off any of the wild animals I'd heard about. But the night before, when I heard them say ‘olive oil’, I just about shit myself. Turns out the Legion had special facilities 'for the production of military rations.' So I was happy as hell to find it still on the menu for breakfast.
Oh shit. Really? I'd never had olives before then. Mm... kinda hungry again.
We can eat after this, if you want?
Awesome. Let's keep going, then.
So after the most awesome breakfast I'd had in the Roaman wasteland -- which really wasn't saying much, since I hadn't had breakfast in the Roaman wasteland before that day -- we started strolling around camp. Got the blood pumping through me to get rid of the remaining hangover, and the cool air definitely did me some good. Delvius here showed me around, telling me about the places in the camp he'd visited. Then after that I checked in with my squad again. It was good seeing them on their legs and not looking starved. Even better to see them give me smiles and actually thank me. For all the shit I'd pulled, they said, it all worked out.
Well, while you were getting patted on the back, your captain called me over to talk. It made me kinda nervous to talk to him alone, but I didn't want to take you away from your friends.
Woah, hold on. Breezetail talked to you? About what?
Just asked me some questions about the Roaman wasteland. What the place was like, who was important. Practical questions like that. I told him what little I knew. I hadn't spent much time on the surface, after all. Not before Goldwreath came along and, uh... changed up the dynamic of Spiderhole. I told him as much, and that surprised him. He couldn't quite believe that two different Roamans couldn't give him answers. He'd asked Goldwreath first, and Goldwreath said the same as I did. So your captain just grumbled and said he'd wait until his legs were feeling better before he started looking for those answers himself.
Huh. Well, alright. I didn't really realize you even spoke to him. Next thing I knew you were just waiting outside the tent for me.
Well, Breezetail's mentioning of Goldwreath had me wonder where the guy was. I hadn't seen him since the day before. It was kinda why I suggested looking for him after you came out of the tent.
Right. So after Delvius made his suggestion, we looked. Based on what I knew about the guy, I'd have thought we'd find him in some office negotiating with someone or something. He seemed like a pretty confident sort, okay with public appearances and shit. Imagine our surprise when, after a good amount asking around, we instead found Goldwreath in some far-away tent, tucked into a corner in some dark and creepy medical station, next to a bed on which some really fucked-up looking mare laid.
"Who's she?" I remember asking Delvius.
"Myst. She was a member of the community I came from. When things turned to shit there, we both bailed. She and Goldwreath have been keeping each other company since then... and even until now, it seems," I said. "Hm, that's good. Good for you, Goldwreath..." I smiled.
Well, given the sight before us, I'm sure you found it natural for me to ask if they were a thing.
Well, I didn't know and told you as much. Lots of reasons people get together. Usually love, but sometimes other stuff, too. Loneliness. Protection. I hadn't seen enough of them to make an assessment, but knowing how Myst was, well... probably all of it? She was a pretty troubled mare. Always isolated.
Even today, haha. Well anyway, so there Delvius and I were. I guess some silent understanding had passed between us that we were both unsure what to do next. I mean, I had some investment with Goldwreath, since he was supposed to show me how things were and stuff. But you know, ain't nice just watching at a stallion sleep. Especially not when he seemed to have wanted some degree of privacy. I was stumped. Leave or stay?
It wasn't so late in the day -- almost six AM -- so I figured if I got the guy awake we'd have plenty of time for... shit, I don't know. He was like my temporary officer until Breezetail said otherwise. Maybe a tour? Or a game-plan for the next few days? Or the next few weeks? Something, anything. I hadn't been in the camp long, but I was already aching to get going. Staying still just doesn't sit well with me.
"Hey Delvius, we should wake him up," I suggested. "I suppose I've got some stuff to talk to him about."
I decided to not question you. You and Goldwreath clearly had some important matters to discuss, so I went to shake him around a bit. You remember what happened the second I laid a hoof on him, though?
How could I forget? Closest I've ever come to seeing a guy decapitated right in front of me. All of a sudden Goldwreath just straightened up and drew his blade, and in a frenzy he slashed in a wide arc. Poor Delvius here had to topple over backwards just to keep his head. My zebra friend had to scuttle away as the big, crimson pegasus eyed us both with panic.
After a moment Goldwreath seemed to calm down. He looked at us both, then at his sword, and realized what it was he'd almost done.
"Sorry," was all he could say. The guy had sweat on his face. For a few moments he just took deep breaths. "That was a, ah... a reflex. I've had a few recent instances wherein drawing the blade first and asking questions later seemed the better strategy."
Now Delvius here scrambled up and was all, "Oh... oh, well alright! That's cool, that's cool. I guess any would-be assailant would be pretty shocked at having a sword to their throat, aheh..." He chuckled shakily and stepped away from Goldwreath.
"Oh yes, definitely..." Goldwreath replied as he sheathed his blade. He seemed distracted, looking off to the side and whatnot. Then he refocused and put on a smile for us. "Again, sorry. In the future I recommend poking me with a stick. Preferably a long one."
Delvius nodded, swallowing. Goldwreath rubbed a hoof over his face and stretched his neck.
"Why did you wake me up, anyway? What time is it?" he asked.
"Six," I answered. It was my best estimate.
Goldwreath smirked. "Six? Hmm, no it isn't, I think. I always wake up at six. It's more than tradition for me at this point; it's practically a constant of my being. Save yourselves the trouble in the future and just leave me alone to wake up. You'll see. Now, what exactly did you come to me for?"
"Eh. I figured there was a lot of important stuff to do and wanted to get an early start on it all," I said. "I'm fit for work, remember? I want to get to it. If not for my team anymore, then for myself. I hate waiting around."
Goldwreath nodded. "Well I suppose we have that in common. So, work for you..." He paused for a moment, rubbing his chin. His eyes popped wide. "Well. nothing comes to mind, actually. Not even for myself. I suppose I'm far freer than I thought... and it's disturbing." He shook. "Alright, well, let's both head over to Vesperius. Surely he has something that needs doing. You, Delvius, well… do whatever you like."
I frowned. Now, I'd learn later on what Goldwreath was, about his position in the Legion, and what he had to do. The guy was essentially free to do whatever he damn well pleased, under no obligation whatsoever. Sounded nice, I guess... if you're the type to enjoy that sort of work -- or lack of work, rather. At that moment though I couldn't help but find the absence of an immediate plan disappointing. I was anxious to get out into the world, to see the place and to get shit done, you know?
Well, you are a pegasus. Isn't restlessness a nigh-universal trait of you bunch or something?
Damn right it is. Remember the looks I gave Goldwreath at the time? Pure bafflement. Every pegasus I knew was always eager to get going, and suddenly here was this one stallion that didn’t have a plan. It was jarring. Maybe it was just an Equestrian thing, I thought. Goldwreath was Roaman-raised. I just chalked it up to that. Eventually I did realize that Goldwreath didn't exactly like the ‘always free’ clause in his job description and that the freedom of his work bothered him, too.
Now Goldwreath started looking around the tent. Then he faced us. “Gimme a few minutes to freshen up. Prepare myself,” he said, then murmured, “I need a pen…”
So there Delvius and I were, outside the tent. Goldwreath had asked for time to ‘freshen up', but I wasn't buying any of that. I snuck a peek through the flaps. Through the dark corridor of the tent, I spotted him, barely illuminated by a faint light. The big softie was whispering who knows what to the mare on the bed, and left what looked like a note on the table next to her. I guess he found his pen after all.
I smirked and murmured, "Mmm, how Romantic..."
You knew I was still there, right? You weren't exactly being subtle about it.
Eh, I didn't care. I got a kick out of watching the oh-so confident stallion in armor kneeling down for his mare. It was at that moment I thought, 'Oh yeah, they're a thing.' And when the guy gave her a kiss on the forehead? Oooh, boy! Suddenly I wished I were on that bed. What can I say, the guy was a heck of a looker. I never had romantic feelings for him. He was always too serious. But Celestia! That rear, Delvius! And that mane, and those legs...
Ah, yeah, okay, moving on! Eventually Goldwreath did come out, and we were headed along down the path towards Vesperius' tent. Then...?
Pfft. Spoil-sport. Can't handle a mare fantasizing, huh? Hey, hey Delvius... that's why you don't have a marefriend yet.
Son of a... can we please just move on?
Fine. Jeez, you Roamans are always so serious.
Anyway, so after trotting down the path up the hill towards Vespy’s tent, we finally stood before the flaps. Goldwreath took one look over his shoulder at us and recoiled slightly. “Huh. You’re still woth us, Delvius?”
Ah, this part. Well you guys already know all about why I was hoping to stick with Goldwreath. At that time though the guy had no idea of my intentions, and neither did Skyfire. The two pegasi before me gave me looks -- Skyfire’s eyes were filled with pure curiosity, but Goldwreath’s with caution and some slight suspicion. He wanted answers, I could feel it. And honestly, I was ready to explain myself. I figured this was my chance to get things straight between us.
“Well, yeah,” I said after a moment. “And not just to this meeting. See, I… well I suppose I’m kind hoping to stick around. Be part of this little group that’s forming around you. I got nowhere else to go. I’m lost. I know little of this world, but I wanna make a difference. Just like you, really.
“After all, If I may be so honest, you and are really quite alike. I heard you were from some other Stable. Marediolanon, right? Never heard of it, but I suppose you’d never heard of Arachnia either. I still don’t know why you left, but leave you did. And you know very well how I wound up out here on the surface. So one out-of-place Stable-dweller to another, I’m asking for a chance to do something with my life. I’ve spent the prime years of my existence underground, doing nothing. Now here I am, in a world of consequence, and it is… scary. I feel that we’d have a better shot at getting things done together. You, me, Skyfire…”
I didn’t want to drag Myst into the equation. I knew absolutely nothing about what any agreements she and Goldwreath may have had. I didn’t want to be presumptuous.
I sighed and shrugged. “I mean, you know I once served a power-hungry maniac. That wasn’t the life I wanted, but it was the only one I had. Now there’s something new, and I want to take it. For practicality’s sake I figured sticking around with a bunch I knew on a name and face basis would do us all some good. You may not trust me. I suppose I’m not deserving of that just yet. But all I want is a chance.”
Now, after my admission, Goldwreath’s expression changed. Whereas before he gave me a stony gaze, now he became more animated. He looked up at the sky and let out a breath, then down at the ground and closed his eyes. I glanced over at Skyfire; she gave me an encouraging nod.
At last Goldwreath looked at me. “Well I suppose everyone deserves a chance to live the life they want,” he said, letting out a sigh. “And I suppose your intentions are noble, and not so different from mine. A week ago I was in your place, putting my fate in the hooves of another… who would I be to not treat you as I had been treated?” He smiled faintly and shook his head. “Fine then. Do as you will, under no obligation.”
Ah boy, I remember how you lit up at those words. Geez, that smile...
Well, what did you expect? I was being given a chance to live a life of consequence. Of course I’d emote! It was a special moment for me.
I know, I know. It wasn’t like I didn’t feel glad for you. I mean, I saw that it was obviously a big deal, and your happiness was infectuous. My imagination went wild immediately. The three of us, cruising around the wasteland, wrecking shit and getting stuff done… that thought pumped me up, don’t mistake me. I too wanted to start doing things with my life after all the years spent cooped up in the Enclave.
Well I can’t say I managed to immediately sense your mutual excitement. I wasn’t looking for your reaction; I was too busy trying to recompose myself. After a moment I just stood in front of Goldwreath, stiff as a statue and said all deadpan like, “Thank you, I appreciate the opportunity.” But inside, I was beaming.
Well, Goldwreath, ever-so-serious, just gave my zebra friend here a nod. I dunno know about Delvius, but to me it was clear the big crimson featherball was still at least a bit uncertain about things. The way Goldwreath looked him over with pursed lips… oh yeah, there were some mixed feelings.
Well I suppose I reminded Goldwreath of what happened in Spiderhole. There was nothing I could do about that. Still, we all take responsibility for our own emotions. If he gave me the greenlight after all that he felt about me and that place, then that was on him. For my part, I wanted to prove I was more than what he saw. I had a chance, and that’s all I could have wanted.
Cool. Well anyway, eventually Goldwreath took a deep breath and turned around. He moved forward and threw aside the flaps of Vesperius’ tent and entered, beckoning us to follow. We came in right behind him. There, right behind his desk and an assortment of holographic displays, was Vesperius. It was like the guy hadn’t moved at all since the day before.
Goldwreath made some odd motion: thrusting a foreleg up in front of him for a short moment, meanwhile the rest of him remained stiff. Some kind of salute, I thought.
“Good morning, sir,” my big crimson friend said.
“Good morning, Goldwreath,” Vesperius said simply, still tapping away at all the flickering holograms. Boy, the guy didn’t emote much, did he? “I really ought to remind you again that formality isn’t necessary. If you have something to say, please do it with brevity. It is not so late in the day that I have performed enough tasks so’s to create a flexible schedule. But I digress. What can I do for you?”
Me, I was still getting used to this dude’s deadpan tone. Goldwreath seemed to expect it, though; he just smiled and rolled his eyes.
“A part of me will always defer to authority sir, and I’m not sure if I can change that. But yes, I understand your point. I’ve come to request work.”
Vesperius stopped tapping away. One swift wave of both his hooves and the holograms were swept to the sides of his table. He eyed Goldwreath quizzically, and the gaze drifted over me and Delvius.
“Work? Already?” There was some actual surprise in his voice. “Do you not wish to rest? You're a young stallion and I respect your physique, but the strain of wasteland work takes its toll within as well as without.”
Goldwreath smirked. “If you’re insinuating that my eagerness or mental stability are dampened by the world beyond, sir, it’s hardly so. I’m anxious to get back out there, ready to face the challenges, as is my…” He paused for a moment and looked at us. Delvius shuffled uneasily as Goldwreath’s gaze drifted over him.
The armored pegasus looked back to his superior. “... as is my team. Yes sir, we’re ready. It seems the three of us here share a similar anxiety. Staying in place doesn’t sit well with us.”
“Hm. Curious.” Vesperius leaned back in his chair. While his eyes stayed still, one of his hooves snaked over to the side and brought close a white mug. If yesterday was any indication, the thing must’ve been filled with coffee. He brought the mug to his mouth and took a long sip.
I rolled my eyes and held back a grumble.
“Well then, I may just have a task for three anxious individuals such as yourselves,” Vesperius finally said, and I let out a sigh. Finally!
Goldwreath perked up, too.
As did I.
Yeah. Goldwreath gave Vesperius a grin and asked, “What needs doing?”
“An errand. Nothing of direct consequence to Legion operations, but then you are in my employ to take up whatever tasks I throw your way -- menial or otherwise. The previous assignment was important to establishing peace in a ten-mile radius of this camp. This next one is… well, recovery, you could say. There is a place I would learn more about. An old compound on the outskirts of Roam, on the banks of the Tiber. An old research station for Roaman scientists during the war.”
Goldwreath cocked his head sideways. “Nothing of consequence? Sounds rather important, sir.”
Vesperius shrugged. “We already have all the wartime data regarding all the Roaman projects and operations. I am blind to no mystery of the past. Still… I’d rather be sure. I want you to go to the Principium Engineering Foundation and reactivate the compound, then tap into the mainframe and download all the data. I shall compare what I have with what is within those computers.”
Vesperius leaned back in his seat. “Now I know you have questions. Let me attempt to answer some of them before their asking; yes, the location should be safe. Still, keep your guard up. Yes, I could send others, but I choose you. Yes, the compound still functions, last I heard. You will activate the systems by inputting a revival code into the dormant mainframe. The code will be sent to your device, along with a simple set of instructions for its usage, and of course I’ll give you an electronic ID just in case the security systems are still active. In your device you’ll also find other important details -- a full write up of things. And lastly, no, I have no transport available for you right now -- all are in use. You’ll have to head there on your own. Should be a fairly leisurely trip if all goes well, really. Take a stroll there. A cautious stroll. The location is about a dozen hours away by hoof, so that’s a day’s round-trip journey. I’ll send you an electronic map.
“Any questions?”
I stood there and thought on the job. Heck, it sounded easy enough. Maybe a little long, but nothing I hadn’t had to do before, during my recon days with the Enclave. And I’d made do with less info. Breezetail always handled things. So no, I had no questions myself. But Goldwreath… well, if he was anything like Breezetail -- and he sure seemed to share some qualities -- his head was probably buzzing with questions. The big crimson stallion looked to the floor, his eyes scanning the ground. Oh yeah, he had questions.
But I suppose Vesperius’ promise of further details on Goldwreath’s ‘device’ won him over.
“Alright. Consider it done. And I suppose I should be thankful we’re being given an easy job that takes care of our anxiety,” Goldwreath said.
Vesperius nodded. “Well, I believe we all perform better when we scratch certain itches. My itch to be scratched for optimal performance is a need for some meditation before the day begins. I get that, I can handle anything. But you and your team, well, you’re young. No matter the circumstances, you’re all very curious about things. Restless. Rather than seeing that as negative, I’d rather capitalize on it. All things can be made useful if you know what you’re doing.”
He looked off to the sides at the holographic displays. “My, the reports have piled up. If you’ll excuse me, you three, I really must get back to work. I’ll do all I can to keep track of you and ensure the success of your mission, but right now Legio I Magnus Potens Roamana is tied down, so don’t expect much. You’ll be lucky if you get a ride back. Now, take some time to prepare. Really, just do it when you like. I’d have had this done in the future, anyway. I should count myself blessed that you offered your services again so soon, so I can’t complain.”
Goldwreath bowed his head. “Very good, sir. We’ll get to it as soon as possible. See you in a day or so, Vesperius. Try not to overwork yourself, sir.”
“I don’t think that’s possible, but I appreciate the sentiment. Goodbye, Goldwreath.”
Cut.
Hm, what? Why? I was finally getting into my story-telling mood. I was all formal and shit for like the past few minutes.
I know, and it’s appreciated. But this seems like a good point to take a break and give our readers, or listeners, a rest, too. A long story is best broken into digestible chunks.
Fine… wait, does that mean we can go eat now?
I see no reason why not.
Hah! Awesome.
***Roama Victrix***
Mm… mm, boy, that was good. Say, you think they were lying about being out of salad? I was hoping to go have some again for dinner, but oh well.
Hard to say. You ate a lot, but it’s their job to stay stocked, so… anyway, we’re recording now, you know.
Oh, great! You take over for a bit, I gotta pick this stuff out of me teeth first.
Me? Take over? Well, I’ve only been chiming in so far. This is really about your story, not mine.
Like yours is any less important. Go on, dude.
I, ah… okay. Sure. If you insist.
Well, after we left Vesperius’ tent Goldwreath gave us an hour to prepare ourselves for the journey ahead. I expressed my concern for supplies, and the big guy simply said he had it covered. I figured he must’ve had some plan, so I didn’t question him. Shortly thereafter, he left and disappeared into the camp.
Skyfire and I parted ways to go and prepare. I assumed she wanted to go and tell her squad what she was going to be up to. Me, I found myself wandering for a bit. Like hell was I just gonna stay in one spot and wait for the two of them to come to me.
Now, most of the local legion had headed out on some op of theirs, which left most of their tents empty. I wandered away from the hub of activity at the center of the camp -- where all the stalls and Arachnians were -- and headed along down the desolate paths between the legionaries’ tents. I was surprised, though, to find a few of them were inhabited. After some wandering I realized why: these were all injured legionaries, and were being cared for by what seemed to be personal retinues.
Outside one of these tents, an old zebra sat, just looking around and seeming to just enjoy the sunlight. He spotted me and smiled warmly, beckoning me come close.
“My, you are new here, aren’t you? I’ve not seen your stripes since… ever! And that glyph… definitely not a legionary’s! Where do you come from, boy?” the old stallion asked. Uh, in Imperial. Obviously Equestrian was/is extremely widespread and influential and most people know it as a second language, if not as their first, but still there were exceptions. This stallion was one of those exceptions.
I approached him. “I accompanied the refugees, sir. You could say I’m one of them,” I replied in his preferred tongue.
“Hmm, but you’re clearly more,” he mused, looking me over with a squint and a wrinkled smile. “Not that I think low of wastelanders… well, not lower than they deserve, anyway, but you’re clearly a cut above that bunch. They just don’t… develop themselves the way we in the Legion do. That’s a respectable physique you have there, boy. Ah, reminds me of me when I was younger… and still kicking ass, haha! Hah...”
I got the feeling this guy was reminiscing. I mean, he’d clearly been through a lot, judging from all his scars… did he want to go back out there? Seemed kinda odd to me; I mean, I only really wanted to go out there cause I knew there was so much to see, but this guy had clearly seen it all already. Why go back?
“Are you anxious to get back out there, sir? After you heal up, I mean,” I said. His smile faded, and I found myself stammering. “Well, I don’t mean to pry, it’s just… just that you seem wistful. And that that’s why you were asking, s-so-...”
“It’s okay,” he said, his head downcast. Then he looked up and gave a weak smile. He stood and limped into his tent. “Come in here, boy.”
I cast a tentative gaze to other nearby zebras -- at the wounded and the at their caretakers. Those who saw me gave me reassuring nods. I put my anxieties to ease and went in after the elderly stallion.
I threw the flaps aside. Within the tent, there he stood, leaning against a drawer and flipping the pages of a notebook with his good foreleg. He sighed.
“You younger types have got it good, you know,” he said. “We the Legion have only been up here a few months, and already we’ve done so much. It was tiring. It took a toll on the first generation of legionaries… on me.” He took the notebook into his mouth and limped slowly to a nearby bed. I rushed over to aid him ease onto the mattress.
He put the notebook down. “Thank you, my boy. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I’m obviously not as spry as I used to be. Even before I came up here, that is. But you know, all people go through youth and feel the… the excitement of adventure. For no reason and hoping to achieve nothing, we all sometimes just… do things. That was me. And as I look at you, well… I think I can see that’s you, too. Is that right?”
Well, mother and father had never raised themselves a liar. And besides, humoring the elderly was a common activity for me back in Spiderhole. Lots of tribal elders went around asking for stories to stave off the terrors of old age. I had no true stories to tell them, so I just made some up… but this time I had tale in the making. I could give him that.
“Yes. Quite right,” I said, smiling. Seeing his old face light up at having made a correct guess brought my heart warmth. “I, ah… I’m acquaintances with the red pegasus that’s been causing fuss around here. Lord Vesperius holds him in high esteem, it seems.”
“The pegasus?” His mouth was agape in wonder. “Ah, the pegasus! I’d never seen the likes of him before, you know. Ah, what an exciting sight he was… and all the other pegasi that suddenly appeared because of him! Hmm, ah what interesting developments. I’d have gotten up to look him up close, you know. If I could have. Gods know this old centurion still wants to see the wonders of this great world.”
His eyes opened wide and he looked at me. “You’re acquaintances with him, and your legs are working just fine. Do… do you think you could travel with him? And write about what it is you two experience out there? I-I think I still have a few empty notebooks around here; journals I never got use.”
He got up and shambled over to the drawer with an excitement great enough to overcome his injuries. I figured if I tried to help him out he’d just insist on being able to handle it, knowing old people… so I just let him be as he rummaged through his items.
“So you’re a centurion, sir? Which rank?” I asked.
“Was a centurion, but thanks for thinking I still have what it takes to be one. Hm. I was the local legion’s primus pilus up until a few months ago. Now they have a new commander. Oh well, my time was bound to come to an end. I have few regrets, but… not filling these up before my service ended was one of them,” he said, pulling out several notebooks and tossing them over onto the bed.
He looked over the notebooks with ecstasy, then at me just standing there, looking over him. He sighed and licked his lips. “Ah, sorry. Forgive an old zebra. I didn’t even wait for your answer, did I? I just assumed you’d do me the favor of filling these up. I just love stories. And I’m hoping my grandchildren will, too. I want them to read of the exciting times, when the wasteland was still being tamed. Because the future I see them in, it’s… peaceful. And that’s good. But they should always remember where that peace came from, you know? History. Learning history prepares us for the future, tells us what not to do and what’s okay to do. I’m a big believer in that, and I guess… I assumed you were too. Heh.”
I smiled. “I am.” His ears stood straight up, and he eyed me closely as I went over and collected the notebooks. Pages and pages of empty, ready to be filled up… ready to make concrete whatever it was I would encounter out there. Yes, I could do this. I would have done, even without the request. This was something I wanted, just as much as… just as much as, uh...
I turned to him, the notebooks close to my chest. “As I fill these up, I would know the name of the elder with an adventurer’s heart. For he asked me to do this as a favor to him, but I consider it an honor and a privilege.”
He sniffed and shook his head for a bit. “Uh, Quintilius. And… bless you! Bless your noble soul. I will pray to the gods for your good fortune. Who are you, my boy?”
“Delvius, sir.”
“Delvius! It is a rousing name, worthy of you. That pegasus, great as he may be, will be most fortunate to have your generous company. He will need it.”
“Well, I don’t know about that… but it’s good to have someone believing in me. Thank you, Quintilius.” The warmth in my heart fading, I naturally came to realize a practical issue. “Uh, I may need something to put these in, though. I’m afraid I possess little, and of those possessions not one is fit for dangerous travel in the wastes.”
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He nodded. “Underneath my bed. My old equipment… my armor, my satchels. My sword and my shield, and my old rifle… take them. This frail body could not have hoped to make use of them anymore. But you… you are strong. And gods damn me if I would not outfit the generous soul who would wipe away this old centurion’s regrets.” He opened his eyes and seemed on the verge of tears as he smiled. “Yes, it is only right. Take it all. Please.”
The surety of his tone moved me past any protest. I brought the aforementioned gear out from underneath his bed and laid it all out before me -- crested helmet, ballistic weave armor, nicked gladius, beaten shield, and an old rifle. The accolades of Quintilius’ service were still attached to the mesh of his lorica. However noble a soul he thought I was, I didn’t earn those. With some hesitation I moved to take them off, and he must’ve had the same thought, for I got no protest from him. Once that was done, I outfitted myself with all the gear and stood before him.
“It’s a little tight,” he observed, “But then you are a bit larger than I. Or maybe I had the armor made for me when I was thinner? Well, whatever the case, it still fits.” He gently ran his good forehoof over the rim of his former shield. The touch seemed to invigorate him. “That’s… that’s what matters. Yes, that’s what matters.”
I placed the notebooks into one of the armor’s empty belt pouches. They fit quite snugly. Quintilius watched closely as I closed the flaps and secured them within.
“A-again, I must thank you,” he said. “You’ve brought a washed-up old centurion something to hope for. What great fortune it was you ran into me, eh? The gods are truly good. And please, no need to thank me any more than you already have. The way I see it, you wearing that armor is the sign of a duty I put upon you -- and as great as duties are, I know they can often be a curse as well as a blessing. If nothing else, Delvius, view these as gifts. I would not have one so young and full of life die out there.”
“Well, better is a short life of consequence than a drawn-out existence of idleness and decay.” I smiled at him. “I will do my best to fulfill this task for you, and to live a life worth all your praise. I agree with what you say. There is much to see out there… and should it ever change, I’d like people to know what exactly happened, too.”
I gave him a bow and turned my body around, but kept my eyes on his. “I take my leave, Quintilius. But I will return soon, and as often as I can ever thereafter. We’ll have many tales to share.”
“I look forward to it already,” he said, stifling a sniff. Then his eyes popped wide. “Ah! Pen!”
He scrambled through his drawers again and pulled out a simple pen. He smiled at me sheepishly. “Aheh, would’ve been pointless to give you paper without a pen, heh… farewell, my boy.”
After that, well… uh, why’re you looking at me like that?
What? Even I can appreciate how sweet people can be to each other. Ah, a purely-platonic sweetness in this case. I mean, I heard you talking about Quintilius before, but… well, hearing how you two met, it’s pretty nice.
Well yes, it was quite nice. Something to think about that lifted up my mood whenever I felt a little down. I’d be lying if I said the odd but unquestionably fruitful encounter wasn’t in my mind the entire length of my trot to our designated meeting spot outside the camp. Even my encounter with the camp’s gatekeepers hardly took my mind away from it. And once I was in the wasteland proper, sitting on a broken column with only the distant eyes of the Legion’s sentries to keep me company? Well, I thought of it even then. Much of what Quintilius said stuck with me and provoked thought.
Well, I remember how Goldwreath and I found you -- sitting there, solemnly, seeming in deep thought… I mean, at the time you looked like you were in deep thought, but I considered that maybe you’d just gotten bored waiting for us. Now I know you really were. Heck, did you even notice us approach you?
No. Not until Goldwreath called out to me, anyway. You know how that is. At the very sound of his voice I stood straight up and turned around to see you two approaching. Now, him I recognized. But you in that black carapace armor of yours, with those threatening glowing rifles strapped to your sides? Well…
Believe me, it all creeped me the hell out the first time I saw them, too. Way back when I was just a filly, I had nightmares. But oh well, armor is armor -- and I knew it’d scare the fight out of some poor wastelanders, so I guess I couldn’t dislike the design too much. Of course it was way more useful before Goldwreath cut off the tail.
Well, I didn’t fixate on you for too long. Your weird, bug-eyed helmet gave me the creeps. I would’ve much rather looked to some other object of interest, and my eyes met Goldwreath’s; he gazed over me curiously as you two approached. I guess he noticed my new equipment. Compared to his and yours, it really wasn’t much. It was better than nothing, of course, and I wasn’t one for heavy armor anyway. I always did find the praetorian lorica pretty cumbersome, however good it was.
That made the two of us. So, Goldwreath and I eventually got right to Delvius, and my stoic, feathered friend, as usual, gave us both a long lookover. He loved eyeing things whenever he was about to say something important. It’s kinda like his fetish or something, I don’t know.
“Well then, I see we three have taken preparations into our own hooves. Very good. So I take it we’re ready to journey forth? Or have either of you any last desires to fulfill?” he said. Guh, oh Celestia… talking like that gives me the shakes. Honestly, how can anyone talk like that on a regular basis?
“None that come to mind. I’m ready,” I replied. Really, the longer we waited, the more anxious I got. I had done little wrong in my life, but I knew that may have been a problem in and of itself. I needed to fill the aching gap of idleness that’d marked me the moment I was born. The weight of Quintilius’ notebooks seemed to double in my satchels. “I’m quite eager, really.”
“Me too. Let’s get moving, boys,” I chimed in. Yeah, I was thinking the same as you -- minus the whole ‘I’d done little with my life’ drama. No no, I’d done a heck of a lot with my life in the Enclave. The problem was it all never agreed with me. I guess, in some way, we were all motivated by a desire for the new, huh?
Yeah. You could say that.
Which made us sure of what we were saying. Goldwreath must’ve noticed it; he asked no more, and just started trotting along down the road leading into the city. Delvius and I followed suit. For my part, my heart was thundering. We were actually finally doing this.
“Let’s proceed, then,” Goldwreath said. “We shall go as far as we can before nightfall. I’d like to make camp as close to our destination as possible. Skyfire, if your wings are up to it, you ought to keep a watch over things from the air. I’m betting most Roaman wastelanders aren’t used to keeping their eyes on the sky.”
“How about you?” I asked.
He smiled bashfully. “Well, I’m loathe to admit your superiority in the craft of flight. And are your eyes not more keen? You’re a scout, aren’t you? Meanwhile I’ve lived in tight spaces most of my life. I’m not as perceptive of far-off details as you, or really, of anyone who’s lived out here.”
Yeah, sounded about right. To this day I still have trouble reading anything over a hundred feet away.
Well, your handicap was my privilege. Hell yeah was I up for keeping in the air! All I needed was the greenlight. Wouldn’t want you boys on the ground to think I’d left you to satisfy my own wants.
I gave Goldwreath a grin. “I’ll make sure you boys don’t walk into an ambush. But you, my friend, have got to get more comfortable with flying! One of these days I’ve got to teach you what I know. You’re missing out, dude. The skies are great! Anyway... do try to stay safe down here, eh?”
With that, I took off. Vesperius’ eggheads had done pretty good; my helmet and armor were both functioning normally. My visor’s heads-up display calculated my altitude as I climbed and climbed… and when I neared the clouds I stopped, taking in the world below through honeycomb light filters. They gave an orange tint to everything that gave the Roaman wasteland a kind of golden look.
Wow… how was the view up there?
Like nothing I’d ever seen. Equestria was deep in the shit, but occasionally it took my breath away. But Roam, it was… well, let’s just say you guys knew how to build a great-looking city if nothing else.
Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Meanwhile I was left on the ground in the company of the guy I still had a cold relationship with. You didn’t so eagerly accept so as to get us to start… bonding, did you?
I’ll admit, that was part of it. What can I say, nothing quite arouses me like watching two stallions walking side by side together…
Aw, gods, Skyfire! I don’t swing that way. You… might? I don’t know -- but I don’t.
Blergh. Well, admittedly, being left with him did give me the idea that it was my chance to start getting him to warm up to me. I cleared my throat. ‘Come on, Delvius, what would a guy like Goldwreath like to talk about?’ I thought.
“So…” I drawled. “I… I’ve got to say, Roam looks absolutely stunning. Like, do you notice how those aqueducts criss-cross the sky like great aerial pathways, going-...”
“North, south, east, and west?” Goldwreath finished. He looked back at me and smiled faintly before glancing upwards. “Yes, I’d thought of it exactly that way, too. It is a testament to our people’s ingenuity that such structures could withstand two centuries, is it not?”
Well now, things were going better than I expected. We all know how Goldwreath’s like. Skyifre, me, you the readers/listeners… I mean, you’ve probably given his chapters a skim at the very least. He’s a talker, and part of that craft is hiding how he truly feels. But, as I would begin to realize starting with that conversation… once you got him talking about Roam, you’d be hard-pressed to get him to stop. It was among the few things for which you always knew how he truly felt. As he would put it: a constant of his being.
“You know, in Arachnia, per our roles as living reminders of the past, I’ve quite an extensive knowledge of ancient Roam, and any events therein. Would you like to hear of its development from a mere village to a grand city?” I proposed, getting an inkling that this sort of talk was how I could bridge this cold gap between us.
That got his eyebrows high in interest. “I’ve only learned the basics of such an old portion of our history, so yes! Of course. You know, we in Marediolanon had a similar role with preserving history -- though I noticed it was quite specific to military strategies and equipment. I’ve no idea, then, who among us knows more. Me or you?”
“Could be you’re the better strategist and fighter, then, while I’m more versed in our people’s past. I still think we could learn much. Tell stories,” I replied.
He nodded approvingly. “As good an answer as I could’ve thought of. Please, do start.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, it all started when the inhabitants of once-puny Roam decided to drain all the marshes choking their village…”
***Roama Victrix***
“ ...and it was then, as you probably know, that the Castra Praetoria was built, and the praetorians were made a legitimate fighting force with exclusive access to Roam.”
I am so glad you decided to do a scene cut for that. Cause after flying overhead for like, what, three hours, I came down and that’s the first thing I heard. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty okay with history… but I don’t think I could have taken three hours of staying on the ground with you guys if that was all you two were talking about.
I guess you just don’t have our level of appreciation for it. Goldwreath was loving it, I was loving it. If we were familiar with a certain structure as we passed by, we talked about it -- and if it was nothing particularly noteworthy, we discussed it anyway in relation to how modern Roam must’ve been like. I’m quite surprised we weren’t shot at, given how distracted we were.
Well, I was keeping watch, so… you’re welcome.
Thanks for that, by the way. I guess you gave two Roaman geeks the freedom to break into open discussion without fear… though I suppose the Legion gets more credit. They did clear the city, for the most part, and made it as safe as it was.
I guess so. After three hours of nothing I realized there wasn’t actually anything to look out for -- it’s why I came down. That and my wings were beginning to hurt.
I could tell. You hissing upon a rough landing kind of gave it away.
Well I guess I’d been rather obvious about it when even Goldwreath noticed -- what with all his self-proclamations about having low perception and stuff. I guess it was pretty nice to have such a stallion show concern for me though, heh.
“Skyfire, are you alright? Perhaps we can stop first and let you rest. You must be exhausted, and I’m sorry to say you slipped my mind for a… a while. Please, do let us keep watch this time.” Boy, Myst sure is lucky to have such a gentlecolt with her.
Is that envy I’m hearing?
Eh, not so much. It’s just generally nice to be treated great is all. And when a stallion halts a long-haul just for you, and when he bids you to lay down somewhere in the shade, and then invites his fellow male to search the area and make sure it’s safe? Yeah, pretty great. You almost feel like a queen. All that was missing was the crown and the royal banquet.
Well I supposed that doing some recon ourselves was a fair proposition, so… and I guess we had been paying far too little attention to the potential dangers of the wasteland. An exercise in caution wasn’t so bad.
With that in mind, I accompanied Goldwreath on his patrol. I trotted next to him as we scoured a nearby shop -- or at least it was one, before it was blasted and hollowed out and picked clean of anything immediately useful. Nothing but a few stools still bolted to the ground and a bunch of overturned tables. Still, in the urban maze of Roam, you never know where something interesting may be hiding.
“Should she not lay her head indoors instead?” I asked him.
“Well, she’s up against a wall and can see all angles of approach. Much safer that way. Not like in tight spots like these,” he replied, extending his shield and holding it before him as we crept into the back. I pulled out my own shield and did the same. As we moved down a long hallway, I noticed the husks of old ovens and other cooking machines in the room beyond. A restaurant, then, was what this place must’ve been. But it’s name? Well, lost to time. Shame.
We neared the doorway to what must’ve been the kitchen, and I noted the slumped figure leaning off to the side, against a toppled cart: a body coated in grey armor and dressed in red garments. A legionary.
“Goldwreath, look. Legionary,” I pointed out.
We stopped. From where we stood it was hard to make out any more details about the body; the mess of shattered dishes and broken furniture around it obscured further observation.
“Could be a Legion scout,” Goldwreath said. He looked to me and took a deep breath. “Well, if he had anything on him Vesperius will want to know. On our way back we could pick up the body. Soldiers deserve a better fate than this.”
With that, he moved forward. Slowly, he crept over all the assorted rubble and junk scattered over the floor. Meanwhile, a ghostly howl echoed from outside, a noise akin to the movement of air through and between tight stone paths. A light breeze blew in from outside, but it was the sudden drop in temperature that pierced all my garments and chilled me to the bone.
I noticed the changes far more dramatically from where I was. The world had gotten dark really fast. Clouds blocked the sun, and freezing air swept into the city. I didn’t know what the heck was going on, but I figured you guys were a lot warmer than I was, so I got up and went in after you. There you were, leaning against a far-off wall, and Goldwreath through the nearby doorway. I spotted the object of interest straightaway: a dead body. But with the help of my helmet, I spotted something else. Something vaguely shiny, like stretched nylon wire.
Stretched wire.
I galloped after him. “Goldwreath, stop!”
I turned and saw you charging forward. I didn’t know what you were worried over, but the terror in your voice was as genuine as it could get. My mind clicked. I burst through the doorway after our oblivious friend. Along the way, I spotted it: the tripwire, concealed by all the wreckage. All our frantic cries reached him too late. He turned to face us just as his big, armored hoof unfeelingly snapped the wire. From the ruined ceiling swept a tethered chunk of concrete from which jutted sharpened metal beams.
I jumped and shoved him aside. His mass was so great that my momentum stopped right where he stood; I had taken his place. In a flash, the sharpened points were upon me. They punched right against my armor, and in some places pierced it outright. My right shoulder exploded with pain. I cried as the heavy concrete rocked me back and forth, my body brought along for the ride.
“Oh, gods…” Goldwreath muttered, looking upon me with disbelief. Then he surged forward and grabbed me. “It’ll be okay to scream,” he told me, and I nodded, shutting my eyes as if to stifle the agony of my punctured flesh.
I felt another pair of hooves on me.
“Okay, Skyfire. One, two… three!”
And with that I was yanked backwards, and the longest of the sharpened blades slipped free of me. I watched as my blood dripped to the floor in fat rivulets. I’d seen blood before, lots of it. But never my own.
I was a pile of numb flesh guided by a slow mind as my two friends brought me somewhere safe -- a corner of the room clear of all rubble -- and laid me against the wall. Goldwreath rummaged through his saddlebags.
“It’s just one deep puncture. Clean, too. Easy enough to treat. Skyfire, put some pressure on it,” Goldwreath instructed. Everything was such a blur… I couldn’t tell whether from blood loss or just my inability to cope with the surge of excruciating sensations. I’d never before undergone that level of stress.
I just closed my eyes and let the ones with more blood in their heads do the work. Better that way. No point straining myself, I thought.
A few minutes later I felt myself slapped lightly on the cheek. I opened my eyes and looked into Skyfire’s bright orange irises. “Hey! Stick with us, Delvius. You’ll be okay.”
“I’ll be okay,” I deadpanned. Then I blinked and looked around. My foreleg had been wrapped up in bandages. “What… what exactly happened? Are we under attack?” I asked, dazed.
Goldwreath shook his head. “No. And well, I… snapped a tripwire. And you suffered for it.” He sighed. “I should’ve seen it. It was such a bad idea to investigate. It was so obvious.”
We said nothing. Goldwreath bowed his head. The world had gotten dark; the sun’s light, reflected by smooth concrete to bring illumination even this far into the building, had dimmed. The air became cold even when static. The howling winds from beyond grew louder.
Goldwreath looked up and listened. “What’s going on out there?”
“Beats me,” Skyfire replied. “The sky got dark all of a sudden. Then things got cold, and the winds picked up. Equestria’s weather is in the shit, but I don’t see no reason why the skies here are fucked, too.”
Goldwreath shook his head. “How bad is it? Out there, I mean?”
“Pretty bad,” she said.
Goldwreath sighed again and stood. “Just as well. I don’t think we should move until tomorrow, minimum… or until Delvius feels okay again.” He looked right down at me, then opened his mouth to say something… then shut it. He frowned and looked around, then wrapped his purple cape over him.
“I’ll take a look outside, maybe gather some fuel for a fire. Skyfire, you look around. I’m sure you’ll be more careful than me,” he said gloomily. He trotted out.
Skyfire and I exchanged looks. She gave me a wan smile. “Ah, he’ll get over it. Everyone fucks up sometimes. Though, ah… I guess I shouldn’t be making excuses for him, eh? After all, if I were in your position-...”
“No no, it’s fine,” I said. “It doesn’t hurt that bad. Besides, what’re companions for?” I chuckled brokenly. “Ow, that hurts…”
“Well, then rest. I’ll take a look around, make sure this place is safe.” She put in her helmet. “Be back in a bit.” And so she left, disappearing into the darkness. I turned and leaned my cheek against the wall. Well, I suppose there’s some comfort to be found in the cold. Beats a stuffy, hot tunnel anyway, anyways.
I pulled out one of Quintilius’ empty notebooks and opened it up. I stared at the blank paper for a moment. Then I pulled out his pen and, with my good foreleg, began to write.
“Day one. I now know how it’s like to have just one good foreleg. Quintilius would be appalled at how poorly I’ve taken care of myself, but such is an adventurer’s life…”
***Roama Victrix***
Well, eventually I managed to clear the area. Whoever booby-trapped the place up was packing some serious heat. Laser tripwired improvised machinegun turret, pressure-plate activated collapsible ceiling panel that dropped grenades… and when I kicked a door open -- and I’m glad I did that instead of putting my body under the doorframe -- a gladius stabbed down from the ceiling, sides glowing and sizzling with heat.
Then there was the body. I don’t know what Goldwreath was going to it for, but it was a disappointment. Nothing of interest whatsoever. Though I’m guessing plenty of the traps were made out of that guy’s equipment. Poor sod.
Whoever armed this place up had some serious beef with the Legion.
Luckily, all my past experience dealing with this sort of crap prepared me for the handling of such delicate matters. I scavenged what I could, and for my efforts was rewarded with a bunch of grenades, some miscellaneous electronics, the greater part of a light machinegun (the rest of it had been replaced by a mess of wires; what a sad way to mutilate such a fine piece of gear), and a gladius.
I lugged my new acquisitions over to where Delvius lay.
He whistled. “Wow, you’ve been busy. And here I’d thought the first trap was bad.” He grunted and scooted close, looking over the pile. “Shit, that’s a whole arsenal. What kind of overkill were these people going for? You’d think that with these many traps, whoever they were aiming to kill would wisen up and just ditch this place.”
“You’d be surprised,” I told him, “Of what hate can make people do. Holding grudges and all that… it’s sometimes kinda hilarious.” I chuckled. “Ah, people can be so funny sometimes.”
He rose a brow and leaned away. Eh, I admit I bothered myself too, sometimes.
Goldwreath trotted back in from outside, shivering. His armor was coated with a fine layer of condensation, and his helmet was bent sideways. The mane underneath was a mess.
“Oh yeah, we are not leaving this building anytime soon,” he said through chattering teeth. “It seems the winter the Legion spoke of is nearing its arrival. I forgot about that for a while. This will not be a pleasant week if things go on like this.” He pulled out a steel box from underneath his cape; within was a pile of paper and other miscellaneous junk.
“Luckily,” he said as he dumped the box’s contents in front of us, “We’ve enough to make a fire. Let’s get through tonight at least. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”
I sat down next to Delvius. Goldwreath gathered the pile into a neat circle, then proceeded to grab nearby rubble to contain it.
“Winter?” I asked. “You guys have winter here? In Equestria, seasons are fucked. Some days are cold as a freezer, others are as hot as an oven. There’s no consistency there. So if you guys have got some actual seasons here, heck, I’d welcome that. It’s not radioactive, is it? Like, balefire winter?”
Goldwreath pulled out his gladius, and with the press of a button he sent the edges glowing bright blue. He dipped the blade into the pile, and the contents burst into flame instantly. It was probably just noon, maybe earlier, but things had gotten too dark, too windy, and too cold to even think of resuming our assignment. At least we had a comforting fire, and a safe spot to enjoy it in.
Goldwreath sat down opposite us. “I don’t know. This is my first time out here in the wasteland. Legion’s been on the surface less than a year, too, so who knows what this winter’ll be like. If it’s worse than I fear… shit, we didn’t come prepared…”
He slammed a hoof down and growled. “First I forget to account for the seasons, then Delvius takes a stab for me. Gods damn it.” He looked at us remorsefully. “I am sorry. I did not... I am not doing too well, am I? Leading you two out here, I mean. What a way to start our journey, right?”
Ah, the other side of Goldwreath. What fun.
Eh, just about every leader who gives a shit about the people under them suffer from guilt. After all, the world’s a dangerous place. No matter how hard they try, something bad’s bound to happen. A moment of weakness, a few seconds of complacency, then boom! Someone gets killed or injured. It’s a curse, you know. Caring. When it works, it keeps people safe. But when it doesn’t, well… let’s just say self-blame’s part of the package. I’d witnessed Breezetail go through it all often enough to know it wasn’t really Goldwreath’s fault. Or, well, maybe it was -- but pressuring him over it wouldn’t much good. Sometimes leaders need to be inspired to do better just as much as they inspire others to do better.
Mm, fair enough. I take it that’s what was going through your mind when you said what you said next? I kinda just followed your lead.
Oh yeah.
“Hey. You’re doing pretty okay by me,” I told my big, clumsy, feathered friend. “Yeah, you fucked up. And maybe I shouldn’t be the one say things are okay…” I looked to Delvius with both brows up high.
“Er… um, well things are fine, I guess. It’s just a flesh wound, nothing too serious,” the zebra said.
I smiled. “But the thing with being a leader is that it means you take responsibility for things. It’s a burden, I know. Something bad happens, you take the blame. Sometimes you just gotta cut the guys in charge some slack. They’re trying to keep people in line -- people, who’re often fucking trigger-happy idiots just aching to kill stuff. They do all that good, nobody gives a shit. But they get one tiny thing wrong, and everybody’s on their ass. You weren’t even expecting Delvius to take the blade for you, right? I think you went ahead because you knew something might’ve happened, and you wanted to be the one to suffer in case you were right. You took initiative, and that’s good. But Delvius took initiative, too, and in that instant he assumed responsibility. Not to say that you shouldn’t be more careful next time, but I think that blaming you isn’t right either.”
“It’s true, Goldwreath,” Delvius chimed in. “This wound’s all on me. I mean, I could’ve let you fulfill your leadership role and take the fall instead. It’s probably what you would’ve preferred, huh? Well it wouldn’t have sat well by me. You took us under you; best we can do is try to repay the favor.”
Goldwreath bowed his head, taking off his helmet and laying it next to him. He shrugged. “You could’ve died. We can say all this because you’re still breathing. But if you died, things would be different.”
“You hardly know me,” Delvius said, “And I hardly know you. Best I can figure, if I died, it would’ve been tragic, but not unexpected. Such things happen to adventurers all the time, right? So many variables. Who’s to say it would’ve been your fault?”
My fellow pegasus said nothing. After a while he just looked at us and snickered, then he stood up. He looked over at the body. “I take it there was nothing of interest on the corpse? This pile right here, that’s all you could find in this place?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Nothing on the body. It was bait, I think.”
He sighed. “Well, alright then. Get some rest, you two. I’ll stay up and keep watch. I’ll… not touch anything this time.”
Delvius and I glanced at each other. One look and we both agreed: no way were we giving Goldwreath time to wallow in his doubt. We had to do better by him than that.
“But we’re not tired,” Delvius said. “And really, I’d rather we all gather around this fire instead. Keep warm and all that. We can still keep watch of each other, and we can tell stories. I think I’d like to get to know the people I’m travelling with.”
Goldwreath looked between the two of us. We both smiled up at him. “Why do I get the feeling you two are consorting on this?” he asked with a chuckle. “Fine.”
He sat down. I discreetly held out my hoof to Delvius; he bumped it with his own. We smirked.
“So… stories. What sorts of stories do you suggest we tell? I’ve not much to say,” Goldwreath said.
Ha-ha-ha. Yeah, right. Everybody’s always got something to say -- and if not that, there’s always something that can be said about everybody. There aren’t ever any shortage of stories. I learned that through countless hours of talking with old people.
It was with a great amount of incredulity that I prodded him: “Tell us about how you got out here. That’s sure to be a heck of a tale. What exactly happened with you before you even came to Arachnia?”
I leaned forward. “Well, all I’ve been getting so far are tons of names and no idea who the heck they are, so this should be good. Go ahead, then. Fill up the holes for us, would’ya?”
He sat there for a moment, smiling politely but with some obvious hesitation. He ran a hoof through his saddlebags and pulled out a… thing. A little black box, some sort of device. The light of its screen cast a pale whiteness over his face.
“Well, it’ll take a while, but we’ve got time.” He sighed and put the thing down.
It was out of anticipation that I pulled out another one of Quintilius’ notebooks. Gotta keep separate logs for different stuff and all that. If Goldwreath noticed the pen and journal in my hooves, he didn’t show it. He just started talking:
“Well… let’s start with things back in my home. Marediolanon. We were celebrating Saturnalia one day. Things were pretty normal. Then…”
That story of his was long indeed. We must’ve spent hours listening, and then maybe a few more asking questions. Honestly, though, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
***Roama Victrix***
Of course, we had to cut it short at some point. Our fire was dying, and the world was only getting colder and darker.
I had just a few more questions before Goldwreath went out to gather fuel, though.
“So do you think you’ll ever go back to Marediolanon? Anytime soon, I mean.” Then with a grin I added, “And will Myst be with you? You sly dog you.”
Goldwreath’s eyes popped wide, and he coughed and turned to the side. “W-well, I’m… certainly thinking of it, and she did accept, so…” He smiled crookedly and chuckled. “Ah, boy. I’m going to regret telling you all about her, aren’t I?”
Delvius looked up from his notebook. At the time, I had no idea what the hell he was doing with it. Doodling, I thought. Roamans were artsy like that, right?
“Well, I’m in no position to tease you about anything. If ever I’m smitten by affections I’d want to be respected on that front, too,” I said, then gave Skyfire a deadpan look. In fact, I’m giving her one right now. Really, Skyfire? Artsy?
Dude. Almost every building has some kind of sculpture or statue on it.
We just have an appreciation for aesthetics.
So… artsy.
Nevermind, nevermind! That’s a talk for later. I turned back to Goldwreath and gave the embarrassed stallion a pat on the back.
“Hehe, just having some fun is all. You don’t need to worry too much, Goldwreath. She sounds like a good mare. If a bit, ah, quirky. I’ll be sure to act appropriately around her.”
“Well, that’ll be much appreciated. I can’t stress enough her… oddities. You never know what might set her off next,” he said. Eh, from what I heard of her then, probably her own shadow or something. I was tempted to ask what exactly he saw in her, but ah, well I knew it wasn’t time for that yet. Goldwreath and I weren’t that close. Yet.
He stood. “Anyway, time to gather fuel. We can talk some more later, maybe after an early dinner. I’ll be sure to prepare our rations when I get back.”
“How’s about I gather the fuel, then?” I said. “You just start doing what you gotta do. That way we can have a bit more time for talking. I’m actually really enjoying this, you know. The quiet time. I’d have as much of it as possible before all hell breaks loose -- and who knows when that’ll be.”
Goldwreath frowned slightly and and looked down. “Well, I get that. And I share your feelings. Just making sure… this isn’t about earlier, is it? I can be more careful this time.”
“No, no!” I said quickly. “Celestia, no. Dude, come on, I’m not one to guilt people. I’m just volunteering to save time is all. No ulterior motives. Promise.” He grimaced and nodded. I rolled my eyes and smiled with a sigh.
“Boy, you are one self-depreciating fella, ain’tcha?” I said as I patted his cheek. “Uh uh, not good, Goldwreath. Don’t be an angsty prick. That’s me when I’m upset, and believe you me, just one of us is enough.” He looked into my eyes and nodded again. I smirked. “Well great! Now you two boys wait here.”
I turned and left. I figured that some of the rooms once guarded by the traps must’ve had some more flamable stuff in them. There was a maintenance closet not too far away from our fire, near the passage that lead to the outside. I stepped inside and started looking around. From that dark corner, over the muted howls of the outside winds, I made out the echos of Goldwreath’s voice:
“So how’s the shoulder? You think you’ll be better within a week?”
“Well, it’s hard to say,” I replied, attempting to lift my injured foreleg. A stinging jolt ran up my spine. I grit my teeth, and Goldwreath immediately frowned and looked downcast. I forced on a smile. “Ah, well actually it’s not as bad as I thought it’d be, so I have that going for me, which is nice.”
Despite our combined efforts, what Skyfire and said clearly hadn’t quite convinced him things were alright. The guy clearly had confidence issues of a sort. Which, in some weird way, kind of… put him in my debt. The reversal of our positions was not lost on me. If I weren’t in such pain and if it didn’t cause him such distress, I might’ve enjoyed it.
“Still,” he said, “I’ll redouble my efforts to ensure this sort of thing doesn’t happen again, and you are personally under my care until you’re healed.” He brought out a few small metal plates and a pan out from his saddlebags, along with some plastics filled with shreds of dry meats and vegetables. He poured these into the pan, and hydrated them with sweet-smelling liquid from a small bottle. Then he set the pan over our shrinking flame. He sat back and took a deep breath.
“And… I suppose I must say thank you. For saving me, I mean. I would not have died, I think, but who can say for sure?” He gave me a wan smile. “Half a day together and you’re already showing your character. I shouldn’t be surprised. The speed with which life goes on out here astonished me the moment I stepped beyond Marediolanon. I should be used to it by now… ah well. You’re alright, Delvius.”
I could tell Delvius here was smiling. Probably widely. The guy points out confidence issues in others, but he’s a needy zebra himself. Needs all the affirmation he can get.
Hey! I… well, yeah, okay. Fine. At the time, yes, I took every single compliment I could get. Everyone needs some good things to latch onto when all they have is taken from them. Keeps them sane, you know? Gives them hope.
I was starting to realize just why old people liked approaching me. Just being entertained can mean the world to someone.
Eh, well the only old people I knew were the jackasses back in the Enclave. Maybe I’ll develop this sympathy for the oldsters when I’m one, too. For now they just look funny to me. And smell funny, too.
Oh, you will. I guarantee it.
Eventually, Skyfire returned. She had a whole pile of crushed papers and clipboards and other assorted junk balanced on her back, between her upraised wings. She dumped them onto the ground and started gingerly putting little pieces into the flame, slipping the fuel underneath the pan.
We waited for a few minutes for the stew to heat up. The aroma filled the air with tangy sweetness. Then we ate in silence.
After a while, though, we heard it. Tic… tic-tic-tic… tic. A clicking sound, like a wooden rod tapping cement. I couldn’t pinpoint its source. From the look on Skyfire’s face, she was just as confused as me.
“You hear that?” she said, straining her ears and squinting to try to determine the source. “I… can’t tell what it is. Or where it’s from.” She stood up, the barrels of the twin rifles strapped to her sides glowing with wicked green. If this was a threat, she was ready to face it. For my part, I pulled out Quintilius’ sword and held it close.
Goldwreath stood as well, but pulled out neither blade nor gun. He trotted forward with little caution to be at Skyfire’s side.
I gave him a confused glance before returning my eyes to scanning the dark. The two pegasi stood together, one crouched in a battle stance and the other mysteriously not so. The green glow was cast eerily upon the walls of the hallway.
The clicking sound stopped. I held my breath.
Then came the heavy thuds. Now those I could pinpoint; they came from the dining area of what was once a restaurant. The source moved further and further… then, lit up by the glow of Skyfire’s rifles, a huge silhouette lumbered into the hallway. It stopped for a brief moment, as if noticing us. Then it continued forward, the weight of its steps reverberating through the ground.
“Hold it right there, you! One more step and I’ll turn you to goo,” Skyfire snarled, the barrels of her rifle crackling. But the figure only kept coming.
“Not necessary,” Goldwreath said, much to my surprise. He tapped Skyfire on the shoulder and bade her lower her weapons. Then he trotted forward and stopped just short of the doorway. The figure stopped as well, its form indistinguishable from the black. I couldn’t make it out; I could apply no detail to it aside from ‘large’.
The figure spoke, and its civility and calmness contrasted with how menacingly primal the boom and hiss its voice possessed: “My thanks. Desire could not have been found in me to embrace suffering at the behest of plasma bolts. Your hospitality flares up surprise in my mind. Tension reigned in our last meeting.”
“I like to think I’m not one for grudges,” Goldwreath replied evenly, but there was an undertone of disdain -- like he was forcing on civility of his own. He let out a huff. “What’re you doing here, Predator?”
Skyfire glanced at me. I just shook my head and shrugged. Clearly there was no danger, but we still weren’t comfortable with the situation. Skyfire may have had her rifles down, but I kept my sword up. Just in case.
“Would surprise come to your mind if I said that I’m here for you?” the thing, er… ‘Predator’, said. Goldwreath looked shocked, and honestly, so was I.
“For me? What for?”
“Well,” Predator corrected, “More of for all three of you. I just happened to be in the area when this drastic change in climate’s mood swung in. I realized you may not have been prepared for it, given your background. The mood struck me to lend assistance to my fellow DA. I’m sure our employer would appreciate cooperation among his operatives.”
Goldwreath thought for a moment. “Our employer…? You’re working for Vesperius, too? You?” The surprise in his voice was evident. To this, Predator chuckled; a ghastly laugh that echoed through the dark and sent my skin crawling. Skyfire stepped back.
“I told you I had skills, did I not? Vesperius has need of my skills, just as he has need of yours. And you are… effective at diplomacy, yes? You have shown promise in this regard. Excellent qualifications, but I’m afraid Vesperius gave you a task more reliant on my capabilities. Perhaps he believed I was too busy. I am always at work. But this task of yours is easy and I will claim it. At the least, I shall assist you with the task. And so here I am.”
“You know a whole lot about me and my assignment,” Goldwreath said plainly. “How is that?”
“We work for one who believes information is key to all things. I am of a… parallel line of thought,” Predator replied. Goldwreath gave him a long, disdainful look.
“Well then,” Goldwreath said under his breath, “If you are here to help us on our mission, I suppose I’d be a fool to refuse.” His tone was that of grudging acceptance. He grumbled. “So what’s the plan? I would have us rest for the night to come, but if you feel otherwise, speak your mind.”
“I can easily operate under the cover of darkness,” Predator replied. “But... it is a fine plan. I take solace in the night. I suggest we move out in the early hours of tomorrow, however. This weather will not improve any time soon, I think. I can provide you all with temporary thermal clothing, but the longer you stay out here without proper attires the more your bodies will suffer. When we return to the Legion -- and we should do this as soon as possible -- you must aquire proper winter gear.”
Goldwreath nodded, now seeming just a tad more comfortable with things. I suppose I felt a little better, too, what with finding out the guy was apparently Goldwreath’s acquaintance. And a helpful one, at that. I was still feeling alright, but I was near a fire. Chances are, out there, I’d be dead from hypothermia with what I was wearing. Thermal clothing didn’t sound too bad.
Well, you Roamans are just more used to the warmer climates of your land. Roam’s nearer the Equator, right? Equestria’s colder in general, and as a pegasus I spent quite a lot of my time up in the sky. Things tend to get a bit chillier up there. But heck, even I was starting to feel the chill. The danger averted, I took the chance to step away from Goldwreath and huddled back near the fire.
Goldwreath must’ve noticed my need for warmth. He turned to Predator -- who I couldn’t even see, by the way; except for maybe the faintest of outlines -- and gestured to the fire.
“Would you, uh… like to join us?” he offered tentatively.
“No. Thank you,” Predator replied. “I’m quite comfortable where I am.”
Goldwreath snickered, “In the cold darkness?”
“Mhm, that’s right.”
Goldwreath gave him a long look, then opened his mouth to say something. But then he just shook his head and came over to take a seat next to us. I heard bunch of heavy thuds where Predator should’ve been: in the dark hallway. My guess was he took a seat and leaned against the wall.
Goldwreath put a little more fuel into our fire. “Are you sure you’re fine out there?” he asked again.
“Yes. After all, we’ll need a sentry, will we not? I volunteer. Should a danger approach, I shall greet it. You three, rest in peace. The night will be safe. I... guarantee it.”
The three of us exchanged looks. His tone was vague and unsettling, as assuring as the words themselves were. Eh, maybe Predator’s speech pattern was just like that -- for example, I can’t help swearing often. It just happens. I wanted to believe the guy was at least decent and meant what he said, so I just shrugged and let it go.
We finished our early dinners. After that would’ve been time for chatter, but between Goldwreath suddenly not being in the mood, and Delvius looking tired, I figured we’d just find another time to be all close and friendly and shit. I wasn’t in a rush to tell them about myself, anyway. When the time came, the time came. I had no secrets, but there were some things about my past I wasn’t exactly proud of. I guess I should’ve been glad I didn’t have to spill the beans so early in our partnership.
We ended up just relaxing. Eventually, Delvius fell asleep. Goldwreath seemed completely lost in thought, staring into the fire and all. He’d glower and smirk and nod, as though he were talking with himself inside his head.
I got bored fast. I excused myself from the fire, and Goldwreath gave me distracted nod. I made my way over to the doorway. I couldn’t see him, but I knew this Predator dude was in there. I could feel his eyes on me, but how he felt I couldn’t say. Curious, I guess?
I sat down and leaned against the doorframe, then looked into the darkness. The guy liked the dark, obviously, and had made a point to not be seen. Now I normally wouldn’t trust fellows like that, but if Goldwreath at least tolerated him then I could cut the dude some slack. Staying in the dark wasn’t all that different from wearing a mask, anyway, and I often wore the mask of my helmet.
“So… Predator, huh? That your callsign or something?” I asked. “And, uh… sorry I threatened to turn you to goo earlier.”
“It would’ve been of no consequence, so don’t worry. And yes, Predator. My callsign? Hm… you can say,” he rumbled back. Up close like this, the sound of his voice sent vibrations through me, like I was sitting before a loud stereo. Pretty awesome, actually. Vibrations felt nice to me.
He didn’t say anything else. So I prodded, “For what organization? You got a name?”
“My own organization. As for my name, it is irrelevant. Names cement us to construed notions of self and role. I prefer greater… mm, fluidity.”
“Ah. Cool.” I pulled at the collar of my armor. Boy, this guy wasn’t making things easy. “So it’s... like puberty or something? That weird time when developing mares and stallions are told to explore and stuff so they can find what they’re good at and make lots of friends? Cause I’ve always been told becoming too comfortable with yourself in that time would’ve been a waste. Like… you stop exploring. You don’t learn new things.”
“The analogy holds substance,” he replied. “Mm, yes it does… we could say, then, that I am still undergoing puberty.”
I grinned and jumped on the opportunity. “Dude,” I said with a snicker, “That’s fucked up. You should check with a doctor or something, heh.”
“Your attempt at humor is wasted, I’m afraid. Perhaps if I were in a more jovial mood… but I’m not.”
I sighed and hung my head. “Oh. Well, sorry.” I cleared my throat and scratched at the back of my head. Maintain a conversation with the guy or get an early rest… both were starting to seem equally unpleasant.
“So hey, I know you probably value your alone time. You seem that sort. I… can’t even see you.” I held my hoof out and tried feeling for him. “See? Can’t. Still, you wouldn’t happen to mind entertaining a chatterbox like me… would you? I don’t really sleep all that much. The other two over there are being… eh, a bit boring. Probably just tired or something, you know? At least you seem willing to talk,” I told him. “Sort of, anyway.”
“Is that what you wanted? Conversation? Mm, should have stated your intentions outright. For all I knew you simply wanted to irritate me. I prefer a level of clarity when it comes to these things. Actually, despite what you may think, I rather... enjoy conversation. Do not mistake my isolationist tendencies as unwillingness to converse -- it simply means I often believe the others around me are not worth talking to, but they could always prove me wrong. Conversation is good. It exercises the most of important of all a sentient’s capabilities: thought. You need only supply the topic and I shall put a spin upon it. Do not lose hope. Let us proceed.
“Here, I’ll set us up. To address your attempt at a joke earlier, obviously it’s not the physical kind of puberty. In that regard I am quite, mm... well-developed. But to keep oneself in uncertainty, to be fluid and easy to morph… chaotic, you could say, but I prefer the term ‘dynamic’. To switch between lines of thought as easily as changing gears, to… to operate under and within constant change? That is my mantra. One can only do so much by just being one type of person, but be any person one desires… ah, suddenly everything is within reach.” He took a deep breath. “It’s intoxicating. The power to be had is… overwhelming.”
He chuckled to himself -- you know, one of those stereotypical evil ‘mwahahaha’ sorts of chuckles. I should’ve been worried, but heck, every word the guy spoke was accentuated with enough sardonic amusement to make everything he said sound wicked, so I really couldn’t tell.
“There. I have sown the seeds for something deeper than casual talk. Let the intellect of my words flow through you. Well, that’s how I view my own thoughts anyway. A cut above the usual junk that enters minds. Perhaps I am a narcissist that way.”
I waved my hoof dismissively, just glad I finally had something to work with. “Ah, we’re all narcissistic somehow. I can’t blame you.” I pointed to myself proudly. “I, for example, believe myself to be the best flyer in all of Roam… under the assumption that Goldwreath over there is as incompetent with his wings as he’s shown, and that any other pegasi in these lands are worse than me. So, yeah. Narcissist.”
“Could be fact, in which case you would be justified in your pride,” he replied. “A truth is truth regardless, and should be acknowledged and celebrated. From what I’ve heard thus far, Skyfire… you certainly seem quite capable.”
I grinned. “Hey, you know my name! That’s...” I frowned. “... pretty damn creepy. How…?”
“As I told Goldwreath, information is a prime interest of mine. You are a scout. Surely you know the importance of… reconnaissance. I make it a point to take note of everyone of interest in the case of… oh, some emergency or other.” He snicked. “At least you’re interesting.”
“Oh, well thanks. I think.” I shook my head. Truth be told, even though I got the guy to open up to me, I wasn’t finding things to be much more engaging. Maybe the next day, when I could see him and hold conversations just a little less draining and… normal.
“Hey,” I told him, “Thanks for chatting me up, but turns out I’ve got some stuff to think over. So…”
“Yes, of course. Good afternoon, Skyfire. I will wake you three up at the first strike of morning. Rest well.”
I smiled at him. “Alright, cool. Seeya, dude.” With that, I stood and pushed away from the wall. I made my way back to our fire.
Goldwreath seemed surprised at my return. “You left? Where’d you go?” he asked.
“Just struck up a conversation with Predator was all.”
“Ah.” He squinted. “And… how’d that go? I know him to be a rather curt fellow. Doesn’t talk much, and when he does he’s a bit of downer. Not really someone I can stick around with.”
“He’s okay, I guess. I’d say he could work on his social skills, but I have a feeling he just doesn’t care. Makes me curious instead of irritated, really, but right now I guess I’m just a bit tired. I could always talk with him tomorrow.”
He raised his brows at me. “Well, if that’s what you want to spend your travel time on, go ahead. Me, I think I’ll stay up. Type out my report to Vesperius, keep the fire alive… the works. I’ll catch some sleep too, don’t worry.”
I nodded. “Yeah, sure, alright. Afternoon, Goldwreath.”
I got comfy against the wall. I wasn’t actually tired or sleepy, really, but if I stayed up until I felt either of those I surely would’ve started dwelling on… ugh, emotions. You know, the bad stuff. Like what I’d left behind back home -- ah, I mean… back in Equestria. Thanks, but no thanks, you know? I left all that stuff behind for a reason.
I closed my eyes and focused on thinking about nothing. After a while, though, I heard the clicking sound again. I wondered if maybe Predator had throat problems, cause that sound did not sound natural.
“Afternoon, Goldwreath. Afternoon, Predator,” I said.
“Yeah, afternoon, Skyfire.”
“To the void of sleep, go.”
I turned to my zebra friend, curled up and facing away from the fire. “And good afternoon to you, too, dude.” All that said, I closed my eyes and resolved to fall asleep.
…
Heh. Heheh… you actually thought I was asleep? Nah. I was busy writing down notes. I was having fun with it, too. It was like I was writing a story as I was living it… and, well, as we now know, that’s exactly how it turned out.
Quietly, I transcribed the events of the day. “... and along with Goldwreath’s statement, Predator, too, said, ‘To the void of sleep, go.’”
I spent the rest of that day making sure all I’d written so far was as correct as I could remember.
Chapter XIII Sensitive Information "You must go into this with both eyes open. Once started, there's no going back."
Um. Why are you staring at me like that?
Heh. Nothing. It's just... nice remembering all this stuff. After all the shit we've been through, who knew we'd end up like this, you know? Alive. And well. We know peace, and it seems real. Tell me that's not something that deserves a moment of appreciation from time to time.
Well yes, I suppose so. It's quite... surreal, isn't it?
Among other adjectives, yeah. So, wanna get back to it? Recording, I mean. We've had a long enough break.
Yeps. So, taking off from the previous chapter, I was taking down notes, logging the day down on paper. Eventually I fell asleep though. I had wounds to heal and all that, and a tired body is no good catalyst for thought. We'll have to take things from your perspective.
Well, sure. I woke up early in the morning. Lifted my head up, looked around. Everything was chilly, but manageable I guess. The winds outside howled on, though less furiously than the day before. The gloom that comes with a dark sky had lessened, too, so I had hope of seeing the sun. Back in Equestria -- you know, when I was in the Enclave -- I made it a habit to start each day off with a morning stretch a glide towards the sun. Feel the heat on me. I hadn't gotten to do that yet in the Zebrican wasteland for obvious reasons. Survival and caution became our top priority.
So what changed? You were finally given some social security and suddenly things were back to normal?
Hah! I wish. No no. See, 'normalcy' wasn't a thing for me anymore. Normalcy was... shit, I don't know. It was waking up each day on a fluffy cloud, seeing the sun rise in the east. The sky's a dark orange, and everything casts a long shadow. I'd trot around before giving my wings a good flap, and finally I'd haul my flank over to our training grounds. That was normal. What I was doing in Roam, well, it was... trying to establish something solid. Something that, if done long enough, could be my new normal. Admittedly, things were going pretty damn well. Vesperius was a good guy and helped jumpstart things. I was grateful for that.
So why perform an old habit in a new place? Honestly, I think it was because I was cooped up in some cramped husk of a restaurant for almost a full day. Didn't sit well with me. So I got up and stretched, really working myself up until I felt the blood pumping to my head. Good stuff. Then I stepped toward the exit, careful not to step over Goldwreath and all his stuff. He was packing the most items among us, what with his shield, and all his guns, and his saddlebags...
Mm, he takes the Marian philosophy to heart.
The what?
Ah. Well, it's the idea developed by a guy named Marius, back in our republican days. He made each soldier their own baggage-carrier, reducing dependence on third-party logistics. Good for soldier's fitness, kept their minds sharp if they didn't wanna lose anything... the sort.
Bleh. Sounds like more work than's necessary to me, but hey, whatever works I guess. Makes areas cluttered though, which disagrees with me. Sorry, but when you've got wings, you kinda wanna keep the load to a minimum. The propensity to lose stuff in-flight is high, otherwise.
Anyway, so I walked out into the main space of the building, and right there, sitting underneath a blown-out windowframe, was this massive... guy. Or thing. Shit, I don't know. I could've mistaken it for an ancient suit of derelict power armor if it didn't look like it was for some supersized zebra or pony, and if it wasn't moving. Its huge hooves were delicately gliding over the sides of a knife.
A moment of shock made way for my combat instincts. I crouched into a fighting stance, my plasma rifles primed and glowing. "Alright you. Turn around real slow and keep your hooves where I can see 'em. Then back out that way, nice and easy..."
It turned to face me, cocking its head sideways. The cracked glass visor looked me over with calm sluggishness. A short silence between the two of us as I held back squeezing the trigger. Then in Predator's voice it spoke: "Good morning, Skyfire. It is reassuring to see your cautious side. Last night you three made little effort to hide the signs of your presence. Perhaps luck will favor us later, after all."
I lowered my guns. "Predator?" I blinked and looked him over. Damn . He was massive. I rubbed the sides of my head. "Dude, you been drinking protein shakes or something? Cause I gotta say, I've seen some fit guys. Been with some fit guys. But geez..." I shook my head and snickered. "By Celestia, how's someone so big so good at keeping himself unseen? Or maybe it was just real dark last night? Yeah, maybe it was that."
He chuckled. "Ah, there it is. Few people like to point out my size. It's obvious, after all, is it not? Why dwell on something obvious -- and considering the self-serving nature of many a wastelander, few people would care too much. People nowadays look out for themselves; anything out of the ordinary is even more dangerous than what is known, and should be ignored if it can be done."
He stood and sheathed the knife within one of several scabbards strapped to his side. "But it seems you're not like that." He took in a deep breath and nodded. "A refreshing feeling it is, after many awkward and quiet encounters. Sometimes a little icebreaker would've been most welcome... and I don't mind my size being the focus of such a conversation. It is a physical trait and is of little emotional value."
Then he looked straight at me. "Well, I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss anything with me. You must've been on your way to do something." His helmet looked from side to side. Even though he didn't seem to have any intent on harming me, I stepped back anyway. Just to be safe. "From the lack of proper gear for our journey, I'm guessing you were hoping to perform a casual activity of some sort. Morning walk?"
"Morning flight," I corrected.
"Mmm." He shook his head. "Wisdom doesn't bless that idea. I know not your level of wasteland exposure. All people have their times of maturity. The standard things -- first kill, first breakdown, first rampage. Spend enough time listening to such people tell their stories and you become accustomed to it. You can... see the looks on them. Goldwreath has just recently tasted of the wasteland's ferocity, I believe. Poor thing. And you? Well, either you're very naive or you just don't care. Either is a detriment to your safety and health. It's a hazardous world out there."
I hung my head and sighed. "I got restless. It's in my blood." I shrugged, then smiled. "Trust me, you aren't the first to point my stupid tendencies out. Some things about us we can't change even if you know better, I guess. You could say it's in my soul or something."
That gave him pause. "The soul? Yes. Perhaps." He clicked his tongue. "I've always found the concept and properties of the soul to be most intriguing. It is... an aspect of ourselves that defines ourselves. An overruling fundamental concept that applies to all consciences." He let out a shaky breath. "It is one of the great mysteries, hm? Ah, long have I sought to uncover the mysteries..."
He gasped and snapped back to face me. "Regardless," he said hurriedly, as if trying to avoid the conversation heading down that path. "You'll have plenty of motion later today. Your destination is close in terms of distance, but the way is long and hard. The Tiber river floods every few years, decaying the foundations of nearby structures. Many buildings along its banks are ruined and collapsing into the water. You and Goldwreath, you two could fly. But that would leave your zebra friend alone, with me. It is not wise to split if unnecessary, and I'm not sure how an infirmed stranger would take to me. As you must've felt by now, my company is... not particularly soothing."
I wasn't entirely sure if this self-depreciation was common. Or if it was sincere. But hell, the guy seemed to take it well enough that I couldn't feel too bad about playing along.
"Well you do kinda look like the lovechild of a tank and an arms room, so that shouldn't come as a surprise," I joked. I grinned and hoped my attempt at casual talk wouldn't upset him. He just stared at me. My throat dried and I coughed out, "Anyway, I really wouldn't worry too much about Delvius. He's a hard-ass in his own way. But I agree, we shouldn't split. At least it'll give us all a chance to... to bond, right?" I grinned again.
He looked out the window at the wind-blown, gloomy streets. "We'd have to stick close to hold a conversation, which is unwise in urban environments. A single explosive device would take us all out." He sighed. "Which is a shame. I do like talking. Call it a... guilty pleasure, like flying is for you. Hmph." He lowered his head and looked to the ground. From his throat came that odd clicking sound I heard last night.
"Oh well." He straightened up. "What are civilized people if they cannot hold a conversation? Compromises can be made, and for all my warnings of safety and caution I am prone to the same weaknesses as any. I'd rather not dictate a set formation. Let us move there as we will, and be cautious when it becomes immediately necessary. Perhaps the factor of intimidation I seem to posses will deter any attackers; a variable not to be ignored as superficial, mind you. What people see often dictates what they do. And I'd not forbid talk the entire way, regardless. That sounds forlorn, and is the very thing these times would try to pass off as normal and adequate. Not so. We can promote the times before, hm? And the times to come." He looked outside at the blasted ruins. "Better times, I'm sure."
"Sounds good to me. I mean, I'm no idealist, but good is good, you know? Yeah. We can make it work." I smiled and looked outside, too. "You know, who needs morning flights anyway? Honestly it's really just the restlessness in me, but if I could wake up each day to something to look forward to -- you know, direct my energy towards -- I can do without it." I shrugged. "Part of the reason I'm on this mission, I guess. I can't stay still for the life of me."
Predator glanced towards the doorway leading back into the kitchen. He cocked his head sideways. "You're not the only one, it seems," he said. "There are three bodies in there. One's without pulse, the other two were breathing slowly and steadily, indicative of sleep. But not anymore. One is taking deep breaths, trying to be quiet." He snickered. "And now the breathing is rapid and erratic. Shocked. Mm, no need to hide, friend. We're all without... murderous intent here."
I looked over at the doorway. After a second Delvius poked his head out. He smiled bashfully and inched forward with a limp. He had a notebook held to his chest. I rushed over to keep him steady.
"Sorry for eavesdropping," he said. He swallowed as Predator approached.
"Curiosity leads to many actions, eavesdropping chief among those," Predator replied. "And now I find curiosity within me. Why eavesdrop?" He paused for a moment. "Are you frightened?"
"Me? Frightened? Ahahaha... yeah," I admitted. Well, what could I say? I'd woken up early enough to catch most of the convo. I'd wondered where Skyfire here had gone off to, you see. Then I heard what they were saying and thought... 'surely this is worth noting'. I hadn't counted on Predator's senses being as sharp as they were.
Nobody does at first. It's how most of his first meetings are started, remember?
Who could forget?
Well anyway, so there I was. Anyone could notice the journal in my hooves. Predator was eyeing it, then looked to me and waited. The guy was hard to describe. He clearly liked to keep to himself, what with how he kept away from others when he could. But then, if approached, he also opened up. Bit of a dichotomy going on there. I'd taken note of that behavior at the very bottom of one of my journal's pages. Regardless, I could've lied about my intentions, but anyone with a brain would've been able to see past it. I supposed it was better to just speak the truth.
"I've just been... listening is all. And writing." I held the journal out in front of me. "Writing whatever is of interest, anyway. There're people in the world that live for tales. Some that live through those tales. And still some who live to record tales. I think I'm all three. Life is not merely a forward-moving motion, but a correlation between what was, is, and can be. Knowledge is the mortar between these three great bricks, and I believe knowledge should be for all. Thus I write, hoping to inform someone, somehow, someday. They could learn from us."
I cleared my throat. "Of course, I can understand that this illumination can go against the rights to privacy some people have. My apologies. If either of you two desire to be excluded from these notes, you may say so." I fully expected Predator to make use of this clause. But what he said next surprised me.
"No no. It is an agreeable notion, which supersedes the ambitions of individuals. I personally am one for actions directed towards maximum benefit -- all sacrifices and compromises considered. Such a level of forward thinking is most necessary now, no?" He hummed to himself and looked between me and Skyfire. "It is an endeavor most favored by proximity to others of like mind. You two could bring quite a level of change to the world, if you tried hard enough. Same goes for your friend, Goldwreath. Outwardly lives such as yours are rare -- perhaps one every few thousand? -- and without such noble souls all facets of society would've broken down long ago."
Don't hold it against me, but while I was no illiterate, the level of vocabulary these Roamans spoke with sometimes left me confused. I looked to Delvius and asked, "That's... that's a compliment, right? I mean, it feels like a compliment."
"If you count being labelled rare and necessary a compliment, sure," I replied.
"Greatness comes upon people at times not necessarily of their choosing, and often without their permission. You will grow into your roles in time. The cosmos orders it." He stretched his massive legs and rolled his neck.
"And speaking of orders, we ought to proceed with your mission. I find myself developing a personal desire to accompany you; curiosity takes hold of me. What has happened to the Principium Engineering Foundation since I was last there? There is only one way to find out." He looked down at us, and as he did I just I just replayed what he'd said: 'The last time I was there.' Now what was the story behind that?
"Ah yes. Come here for a moment." He vaulted over the nearby counter and bent down, out of sight. Skyfire and I approached. A noisy commotion, and then he stood and placed three grey, fur-lined winter coats before us. The quality of the apparel caught me offguard; surely these were made in a factory somewhere, for the precision and make were beyond even the most skilled hooves.
"These should serve you well until you can acquire more appropriate gear," Predator told us. "Don't expect to be immune to the cold. If in here the chill you feel, out there your bones will go numb. These were made for mobility, first and foremost, and able to be worn underneath even tight suits of armor. Now go and put them on. Wake Goldwreath as well. I will make sure the surrounding area is safe."
He bent down again and slung a heavy-looking black duffel bag over himself. With one hoof he pulled from it a block of folded metal, which promptly extended into a sleek combat rifle. It looked makeshift yet advanced -- perhaps something of his own make? The muzzle of it sparked with electrical current produced by three separate coils. I could feel my fur starting to stand on end.
I whistled. "Fancy hardware you got there. Shoots electrified bullets or something? Or EMP rounds?"
"Lightning, actually," he replied, gazing down at a little screen built into the side of the body. He tapped on the display a few times, and the electrical current increased until the tip of the gun started sizzling and arcing with miniature bolts. Delvius and I stepped back.
"Flashy, heh," I commented. "No pun intended. Seems a bit impractical, though. Why the need for lightning?"
"No need to account for bullet drop. Illumination for dark battlegrounds. And of course, those who do not die cannot fight with a convulsing muscular system. Easy pickings for later on." All this he explained as he drew from the rifle a long wire, which he then connected to a small port at the back of his helmet. When the connection was established, he grunted and his visor glowed red for a quick moment. He let slip a drawn-out growl.
Delvius and I looked to each other.
"Well!" Delvius said. "That's quite fascinating. Anything can be practical if the situation calls for it, and you sure seem to know your stuff. But we should go prepare now. So... see you in a bit!" And he slowly stepped back and slipped into the doorway. I followed him.
"Smooth withdrawal," I smirked.
He gave me an incredulous look. "I've got nothing against the guy, per se. We all have our weirdness, you know? I just need time to get used to his weirdness. I mean... come on, look at him. You aren't freaked out even a little?"
"I've seen worse," I shrugged. "The wasteland's a weird place, Delvius. I know you've seen some shit in Spiderhole, but it gets way stranger, trust me."
"Blergh." He sighed and rubbed a hoof idly over the coat. "Let's just go wake Goldwreath up and get moving."
We made our way back to our little camp and found Goldwreath already up, sitting and rubbing his temples.
"Morning. I assume we'll be heading out soon?" He eyed the coats. "You two already seem prepared."
"Well, we've been up for a while. Predator said we should put these on, so let's get to it boys." I tossed one of the coats over to Goldwreath and began unstrapping my armor. Off the greeves went, then the shoulder pads, and then the chestplate. The fibrous mesh underneath took a little longer, but at last my hide was free. The pleasant coolness I'd felt the whole morning turned into a chilling assault. I shivered and got goosegumps.
I frantically went to putting on the coat. The other two were a lot slower about it, unhurried. In fact, Goldwreath was just eyeing me. He didn't seem to notice I caught him staring. Where was he looking, anyway? My legs? My... flanks?
"Hey... dude. Don't you already have your affections for someone else?" I grinned, but in truth I felt awkward (and flattered, I guess) for being stared at. Goldwreath recoiled and looked aside. Did his cheeks seem redder than they normally were?
"Sorry," he said. "In truth, you really are quite the sight. It's no shame to acknowledge beauty wherever it's found. But it's not just that. I've been the only pegasus I've known for the longest time. Now that I see you, I see... something to compare myself to, I suppose. A standard held by my kind, which I should at least try to understand. I am Roaman, but also a pegasus. How do we conduct ourselves? What do we hold closest to us? Things like that, which I'm trying to gather from the sight of you."
"Well right now all you'll gather from me is that I'm cold and -- apparently -- 'quite the sight'." I smiled and continued putting the coat on, but slowly; I could still feel his eyes on me. No harm indulging a stallion's natural want for eye-candy, I guess. "But really, put that coat on. Aren't you cold?"
"Just a bit. I suppose we Roamans are used to this climate. I myself came from the chilled confines of a fallout shelter, so coldness is no stranger to me."
Delvius stepped forward, looking comfortable in his warm coat and armor. "Well, good for you. I only grew up hearing of the cold winters; I never experienced them, and the caves were warm and sometimes hot, so I've had no chance to accustom myself to these temperatures." He took in a deep breath and let it out. "Ah. This is much better. Amazing how comfy these are." He shimmied his legs happily.
The ground shuddered slightly. Predator came down the hallway. He had his lightning-gun brandished, and its presence ionized the air and had our fur standing on end. He looked us over.
"What a sight this is. Like foals getting ready to play in the snow." He chuckled. We looked to each other questioningly. He stopped. "No, really. This reminds me of fonder times."
"What fonder times could that be?" Goldwreath asked as he put on the coat. "Can't imagine there'd ever have been any foals playing outside in these days."
"Well, you'd be correct. It is dangerous to go outside, even as a contingent or in a group. But I was not referring to these days. I meant before the war -- and actually, during, too. Life was not on hold until the bombs dropped."
We stopped and looked to him. He just stood and returned our stares.
"Were... were you around? Back then?" I asked. After a short delay, he nodded. My eyes widened. "Wow."
Goldwreath was shaking his head. "That... that can't be. You'd have to be about two centuries worth of age. How...?"
Predator looked behind him, down the hall. The light flowing in from outside was getting brighter. He turned back to us and gestured over his shoulder with a hoof. "May I explain as we move? Time is not ours to spend idly."
For my part at the very least, I was immensely excited. I'd long heard of the 'walking dead', as Imperius had called them -- people from before that somehow survived the bombs and, through sorcery or other means, had achieved long lives. I'd never met one; they were always turned away at our gates. Lost opportunities, I felt, but it was not my place to speak up. Still, I had now an image of what was beneath Predator's helmet: a disfigured individual, scarred by decades of wasteland life and trauma. What experience he must have had. How much knowledge he housed... ah! Amazing. I had to tap into that immense wealth, somehow. What stories he could tell.
I looked to the others and was pleased to see them quickening their preparations. "Come on guys, daylight's burning," I said, perhaps too excitedly, for Skyfire gave me a smirk and an eyeroll.
Your excitement was just so precious. Innocent Delvius... just like me, when I first met the walking dead... er, ghouls. In Equestria we call them ghouls. So yeah, I was freaked out, but that passed and I wanted nothing but to ask questions and get answers. After a while, though, I realized most of them were just sad. They wanted their lives back, but that wouldn't happen, so they just went on with things, hoping for improvement. When Predator nodded, I just thought... 'Poor bastard.' I didn't wish that fate on anyone. Sources of knowledge, sure, great, but... what a life they must've had.
It is a curse, I suppose. But a blessing, too. We must look past the misfortunes of the few and look to the prosperity of the many. For the greater good and all that; you know how I'm like.
Hah, you and almost every Roaman I know. Good for you guys, though. It's a good mindset. Even the bandits here at least have some principle, and honor. If the Equestrian wasteland had that... I still wonder how you guys do it.
You'd have to be Roaman to understand, I'm afraid.
Good thing I'm working on that, then.
Anyway, so the three of us got ourselves outfitted and made sure we didn't leave anything behind. When I finished I joined Delvius over near the doorway where Predator was. Goldwreath approached us, then stopped and looked over at the body.
"It doesn't feel right just leaving him here," Goldwreath said. "It was no small source of discomfort sleeping with a corpose nearby, too. It's not appropriate to end in such a way, with no... closure."
"Mm. He'll get closure," Predator interjected. I raised a brow and looked up at him. "Bodies in these places get scavenged and stripped, but also burried or cremated. It is a practical measure taken by even the most callous scavengers. There are times of the year up here, when the air is most humid and the skies dark, when plague and disease swell up. Bodies take months to fully decompose. Few would risk such an incubator being around when the sick days roll in. Also, it hides the fact that activity took place nearby. Most bandit groups would want to remain unseen. In your walk here, did you notice any signs of them? Perhaps not, and that is how they like it. They operate in the shadows, using the desolate places as bases of operation. It has worked out for them."
"You seem to know quite a lot," Delvius said. "Not surprising, given your... your vast experience and knowledge. I'm titillated. Please, do tell us more."
"On the way to our destination," Predator replied plainly. "Which we should start heading to. Are you satisfied, Goldwreath? Will you leave the dead now?"
Goldwreath took one more look at the corpse. He sighed and nodded. He joined us and we headed down the hall leading back outside.
"You don't seem okay with it," I pointed out. He perked up and looked me in the eyes before averting his gaze.
"The harshness of it just bothers me still. But I'll get used to it, I suppose." Again, he looked at me, this time with a sort of desperate need in his voice. "I will, yes? You've been in my position before. These realities disturb me, but... they'll not at some point, right?"
I winced. "Eh, well I'm not totally over these things yet. And it's been years, mind you. I think people never really get over all of it completely. We can always be bothered, you know? In fact I think it's good that we remain bothered. Gives us reason to make things better, and shows that we still have some sense of right and wrong. So I mean, yeah, it ain't pleasant to be bothered... but it's a good sign? Like, as long as we don't let ourselves slip and go insane and stuff."
He gave me a long look and then the faintest of smiles, which faded quickly. He said nothing else.
Once back outside, on the streets, wham! The cold hit me like a brick wall, and it seeped in through the tiniest gaps in my clothing, slowly numbing my flesh. I mean, I could handle it, but geez. Back in Equestria it rarely ever got this cold, even up in the clouds. We could see each other's breaths, and from the looks on the others' faces I could tell they weren't expecting this, either.
"Air's, ah... got quite a nip, heh," Delvius said through chattering teeth. "How are you two handling this? Honestly, I'm a bit excited. I've never felt this before. It's amazing, really. If these were better times I'd sit outside all day just to experience it."
Goldwreath nodded. "It's quite alright, really. Reminds me of home. But it's much stronger." He swallowed and shuddered. "I'll get used to it. Still... perhaps I should've sat around the fire while I could. I trust you'll be alright? Would that leg keep you from keeping up?"
Delvius brushed the question aside with a smirk. "What, this? Nah. As long as we're not galloping, anyway."
Goldwreath gave him a nod and pat on the shoulder. Then they both looked to me. "Skyfire?" he asked. "How're you holding up to Roam's climate?"
I just smiled widely. They turned to each other and nodded in understanding.
"Well, hang in there. We'll get warmer clothes soon enough, eh?" Delvius said comfortingly.
"If you three are done with the banter," Predator called from up ahead, "We should get moving."
On my helmet went. The visor lit up with a digitalized view of the world around me. We hurried after him, and as we neared Predator broke into a jog. Delvius fell in beside him, and I watched with concern for a moment; he managed to keep the limping to a minimum though, and didn't seem to be in much pain. So I focused on our pacing and formation, and kept a distance between me and them. Meanwhile Goldwreath watched our rear. He had his shield ready, and scanned the buildings as we cantered along.
***Roama Victrix***
For some time, we kept quiet. We made our way towards our objective with speed, stalking through the ruins and keeping to the shadows, creeping through tight spaces and desolate ruins. There was nothing. Not a sign of life or habitation. I suppose I was grateful the bandits of Roam kept to themselves, unlike the raiders back in Equestria who prowled the wastes, always seeking some target to loot or murder. Insular, organized groups were just as dangerous as roving mobs, though. Anyone with intelligence can turn it towards cruelty.
Delvius eyed the ruins and voiced my thoughts. "You know, the city doesn't seem as ruined as you'd expect from a balefire war. I'd have thought there'd be more communities. Or at least... you know, people. Bandit or otherwise. I get that most folks would want to keep out of sight, but people need sunlight. Surely they wouldn't make permanent dwellings underground. That's just depressing. So what gives?" He looked to our armored guide. "Predator?"
"You'd be surprised," Predator replied plainly. "I will expound upon that answer if you so wish, and am willing to partake in limited conversation after we cross this hurdle here. Look."
I hadn't noticed until then, but apparently we'd been gradually climbing a low hill for the last few hundred meters. The wide, four-way intersection we came across caught us by surprise. We stopped. Predator leaned forward, glancing this way and that, before staring at the wide road before him. The winds, which had been blocked for most of our journey by the wall of ruined structures off to our side, now showed their full force, blowing up dust clouds and caused small pieces of debris to roll over the concrete. Predator took a breath and looked back at us. Giving a gesture to follow, he galloped forward. Delvius put a hoof over my shoulder for support, and we went in. Goldwreath went last.
By Celestia, was the wind strong! I would've loved nothing more than to spread my wings and glide effortlessly along the currents, but as it was it was like being slapped in the face, again and again, nonstop. So this was what ground dwellers went through. We crouched low, and Goldwreath, seeing our struggle, burdened himself to protect us with his shield. Under that protection we were able to make it to the other side, where Predator had stopped to wait for us. Overhead, old antenna towers creaked and hollowed-out windows funneled the air into howling currents.
I laid Delvius against a pile of rubble and collapsed next to him. "I can't feel my legs," I said. They were like blocks of ice, numb and without feeling. "H-how much longer? How much f-farther?" I asked through chattering teeth.
Goldwreath pulled out his black device and gave it a few taps. "Our destination is about seven miles off." He let out a cold breath, then irritatedly wiped the condensation off the surface of his device. "Seven miles of creeping through rubble and keeping our heads low, and freezing in this cold..." He looked over to Predator. "We're putting ourselves under your guidance. Surely you know the way?"
"It's straightforward. Down this highway and then across a bridge. Not much longer. It will be necessary, however, to stop and rest as travel takes its toll." His helmet turned to Delvius. The zebra winced and took deep breaths, massaging his injured leg. "This time seems as good as any, I suppose. We must remain vigilant, of course, and make sure we are not being stalked."
His gaze went between the three of us, all panting and shivering in varying degrees. "Danger comes from weakness as well, of course. Surely you're not all frozen already, hm?"
"We'll get by," I chimed in. "This is the kind of life we signed up for. Well, I speak for myself, anyway. I don't know about these two, but this is exactly the sort of thing I was envisioning when I got myself involved in all this. Quite thrilling, really. Nothing makes a guy feel more alive than the constant threat of death, I think. And for those who live, and I like to think I will, there's reward. Knowledge and other boons. I wouldn't mind a bit of power, too." I chuckled and held my chest. "Still wouldn't mind a rest though."
For where he would direct the conversation, I would be grateful. "Well, you'll get your rest, then. And hmm... knowledge to you is really quite the boon, hm? Alongside power or wealth? What a curious mind you must have; perhaps the most curious among us." He glanced to the other two. "After all, you seem to be the only one eagerly pushing for me to spill. I must appear a large book to you."
"A large, golden book, yes."
Predator nodded, and then observed our surroundings. He approached a huge block of concrete and, with one hoof, pulled it close. Then he did so with another. Afterwards, he turned a derelict vehicle onto its side. His strength was fascinating to behold. The result of his efforts was a makeshift shelter of sorts, shielding us from the wind and unfriendly eyes. Then he sat down opposite to Skyfire and I. Goldwreath moved to the mouth of our debris barricade and set his shield down to stand guard.
"I may as well be enthusiastic towards your curiosity, lest you become irksome and irritate me. Better to accept fate than deny it. You would've taken this opportunity to question me anyway, I think," our dark-clad guide said. "I must admit I'd long wondered what it would be like to confess of myself. I have not spoken of the past to one so eager for... ever. Will I choke up as I recall things? Will I pause with reminiscence? It has been so long, and I believe I have gotten over ill feelings and thoughts. The things I know were secret back then, when people had the luxury to keep secrets. Now though, I could spill and there would be no war to lose or win. So... ask, then."
I grinned and rubbed my hooves together. My mind flashed with images of the exploits he was sure to have undergone. What wonders he could speak. All of it golden, I was sure. Ah, how thrilling must've been the words to come!
"You have my gratitude," I said. "Now, where... where to begin, even?" My body was trembling from the excitement... or was it the cold? Hm. "Ah! Let's start from the top, hm?" I suggested. "You were actually alive back then. Astonishing. How is that? And don't take offense to this question, but... what are you, Predator?"
He sat silently for a moment. "First, a quick recap of the atmosphere then and now. Many people think of Roam and see good things. Efficiency, ingenuity, adaptability -- good things," he said flatly. Was he being deliberately deadpan, or did he truly feel nothing? Predator wasn't like others. He hadn't presented any face for me to scrutinize. "Roamans and non-Roamans then as now are quite similar. The Roaman lineage is full of pride, and the non-Roaman line is marked by hope of being part of something greater. That's what Roam is to people, I suppose. Something which gathered; a standard. A representation of the ideals of not just its own people, but of others as well. Roam was composed of many cultures, yet it had its own identity. Fancy that. A civilization possessing the strengths of a hundred ways of life, yet was cohesive and united. This... consolidated pluralism seemed to many the ideal society. And why not? Would it not be grand to be able to be oneself, whatever that entails, and to be supported by millions of free thinkers who all see you as one of them? Seemed like paradise."
He sat back and lowered his head. "Nothing in life is free, though. All prosperity is earned, and during the war suffering took its toll. Integrity cracked. The mares and stallions staffing our government, I'm sure their hearts were in the right place. But necessity called for action. Fearful of loss, they created me. All their forbidden technologies, they pulled from the archives. All their theories, they put to the test. I became a weapon of their design. Upon my flesh their tools descended. Into my veins they injected their chemicals; my cells, too, they reinforced with mutagens. My mind they reshaped, my body they tore apart."
He paused and lifted a forehoof, gazing upon it and turning it around in front of himself. "That I survived the process was a miracle to them. I became something else, and thereon they did not hesitate to use me. Their battles, I fought. Their enemies, I killed. Their ideals, I defended. And when the war escalated and their minds and bodies could not bare the strain, few hesitated to put the weight of their duties on me, for the truth was that I could handle it, and they could not."
I paused for a moment. My eyes glanced from side to side. Like Predator himself, Skyfire had her face masked by a helmet. Goldwreath, however, was visibly disturbed. I understood. For the longest time, I'd thought of the Roaman government as the best there was. The destruction of the Great War? That was not their fault, and they did all they could to stop it. But Predator was right in front of me. If he was speaking the truth, that they did things to him... no. It could not be. The emperor as relayed to me was an upright ruler, benevolent and just. His integrity could not break. He would never let Roam turn so desperate. He would never condone such things being done to one of their own. Surely not!
But actually... what had Roam ever been if not adaptable, ruthless? Did we not copy designs and steal strategies when faced with destruction? And when we had the advantage, did we not salt the soil of our enemies so they could never again rise against us? Did we not line miles of road with crucified, to terrify and humiliate our enemies? My mind raced, trying to reconcile such vileness to the heroes I'd made our leaders out to be. We had a violent history, but in the information age surely we'd cast off such barbarism... hadn't we?
I sat there, feeling an aching pit open inside me. What had I expected out of this interview, again? Ah yes, the tale behind Predator's uniqueness -- full of triumph and glory, a testament to the best we could be. Clearly I was mistaken. Naive. I had hoped for too much, and got knowledge I honestly could've gone without. Perhaps... not all questions should be asked. Perhaps not all curiosity should be sated.
My throat felt dry. I swallowed and sucked in a breath. "I... I'm... sorry. I... I don't know what to say." I looked deep into his visor. I couldn't see his eyes, but I wish I could have. Anyone else I knew would've been taking this opportunity to vent rage or sorrow. Predator had been calm. Cold and dead about it all, even. I wanted to stop asking. Truly, I did. But here was an individual, used and abused as expected in war, and finally he had a chance to speak. Surely underneath all the calmness was a need for expression. Surely all these heavy years yearned to be spoken of. However well he hid that desire, surely he wanted to talk. I could give him that at least.
"Well... what can you say about what you became?" It seemed like a safe approach, asking for his opinion and feelings.
"I was a super-solder," he said matter-of-factly. Flat tone... unbelievable. "I was capable of physical feats no other could replicate. But my abilities extended far beyond just incredible strength or endurance, and beyond just combat. My mind was transformed into a relentless computer, capable beyond all others. My learning and micromanaging abilities surpassed even the combined prowess of dozens. My augmentations made me capable of not just taking someone's post while they recovered, but to replace them altogether. At all times I was needed, here and there, by him and her. I was being pulled every which way. The emotional and psychological strain would've been too much for anyone else. But I could handle that, too. I was a machine... and I still am."
"Like hell," Skyfire suddenly snapped. We all looked to her as she shakily stood up. What, was she... angry? "Don't think of yourself that way, okay? You're not a machine, and that those... those people treated you that way was just wrong. Nobody deserves to be treated like some commodity, or a piece of hardware. Not even if they can take it." She let out a shuddering breath. "I'm... I'm sorry for you." Her tone was filled with deep pity, which I shared. But the intensity of her outburst seemed to me to come from nowhere. Had she encountered this sort of situation before? "You didn't deserve that. You just didn't."
I gave her a pat on the back as she sat back down. We couldn't see it through her helmet, but I was sure she was letting loose at least a few tears. Oh yeah, there was definitely some story behind this.
Predator cocked his head sideways. Perhaps he did not know how to receive pity?
"Thank you for the sentiment," he said. "But I've had two centuries to deal with any ill feelings, of which there were originally little. I volunteered for this, Skyfire."
Her head slowly rose up. Goldwreath looked shocked, and my own eyes widened. "You... you volunteered?" she questioned, echoing my thoughts precisely. "Why? Why would you do that to yourself?"
Predator hummed in thought, and muttered things under his breath. After a few moments though, he said simply, "Duty called. It was required of me."
Skyfire turned away from him and kept her head low. This was hurting her for some reason. What could I do beyond putting a hoof around her, and cease the interview? Not much else, but I at least did those. Besides, I too needed some time to process what I'd just heard. Enough questions for one day.
The silence dragged on, and Predator seemed to make the conclusion that our little interview was over. He relaxed, tending to the maintenance of his gear. Goldwreath gave him a scrutinizing look before turning away to continue his watch. His mind must have been heavy with his own thoughts. I couldn't blame him. I expected words that inspired, and lifted our hearts. Not these... disheartening truths and doubtful thoughts. As if there weren't enough of those already.
"We move out in five minutes," Predator informed us, not even looking away from his weapon. No emotion, no indication of any thought on the past. Perhaps he'd done what I've seen so many elderly wish to be capable of: to forget the past entirely, and to tend only to the present and future. It was admirable, and the strength required must've been herculean. Yet I could not believe that this individual, who'd gone through so much, had completely put to rest all the trauma of life; that what he was did not bother him one bit, or that despite all his suffering and sacrifice the world he knew and protected nonetheless fell to war. To my mind, he was a product of fear and desperation, and doomed to live in a cruel world. How could one so unlucky be so... nonchalant?
I shook my head. No more questions, I reminded myself. None of this had turned out as I had hoped. The notebook in my hooves, I wanted it full of hope. Something old Quintilius could read and smile over -- him and all the generations to come. How could I let him read this? How could I let them all read this? Was knowledge really more important than hope?
The pen hovered over the pages of the notebook, but in the end, I wrote nothing.
***Roama Victrix***
"And off to our right is the Tiber river! Gaze upon it, friends -- here is the majestic torrent that gave Roam life, and tended to it from kingdom to empire. It's a little more... radioactive nowadays than three thousand years ago, but here it is nonetheless," Delvius proclaimed, gesturing to the roaring waters below us as we crossed a wide bridge. "Look at all that beautiful... green water. Nothing compares, huh?"
We'd left our shelter about two hours ago and had made steady, unimpeded progress towards our destination. After navigating around blocked roads, into crumbling buildings, and at one point even going underground and through a small section of the Roaman sewage system (something Goldwreath seemed particularly uncomfortable with), we emerged on the elevated banks of the Tiber river. From there we gazed over to the other side, and Predator pointed out a wide building towering over the others. Its top was shaped like an upside down crescent, with two prongs reaching up towards the sky. Our halfway journey was almost over.
"It is beautiful," Goldwreath replied, admiring the roaring torrents. "Ah, how I would've loved to swim within its gentler portions, if things were different. For now, looking upon it will do, I suppose."
"Perhaps the Legion can clean it up!" Delvius proclaimed, beaming. "Surely they would! Well, somehow. Then the city of Roam can start fresh, and become a center for growth and prosperity. Food and water for all sounds marvelous."
Well, he was in a good mood. Good for him. Ever since our little chat with Predator earlier, well, I hadn't felt too good. Hearing what the guy went through, it brought back some bad memories. Even as we walked, I became detached from my senses, and my mind wandered back to that day, three years ago... the day my brother killed himself.
I had just joined the Enclave as a scout cadet. My brother, he'd graduated years before me and had made a name for himself as a captain. Times were tough for us. A series of disastrous reconnaissance missions to the surface, around dangerous hotspots, had killed several scout teams and their officers. We were short on capable leaders. The weight fell on my brother and others of the same station, naturally. They had to make calls that would decide the fate of several times more lives than they had trained to handle. They did their best. They made decisions that not everyone liked, but it kept our numbers from dwindling further. The pressure was crushing, though. Every time my family would meet, my brother would confess to feeling suffocated -- and my father, a distinguished commander of a Raptor-class aerial warship, told him to suck it up. His duty was important than his own needs. It went on like that for months.
One day, one of the few authorised scouting teams went beneath the clouds. They went silent for a day, then radioed in. They said they found something the rest of us just had to see; it was too complex to explain, and they'd need analysts to figure out what it was in the first place. The captains met up. My brother felt like something wasn't right. It was Enclave policy to maintain constant communication, and the party's mission kept them away from underground tunnels or any place where they couldn't be reached. The other captains had grown tired of the isolation. They wanted to know what was down there. My brother buckled. They sent more pegasi to the surface: analysts and engineers, capable of determining the nature of this 'great find' we'd been told about.
It was a trap. There was no great discovery, just the waiting hooves of an entire slaver army smart enough to not kill everything they see. From my comrades' helmet-mounted cameras, I saw them pulled from the sky with heavy nets and, once on the ground, attacked by blade-wielding ponies who cut off their wings so they could never fly back up. The last thing we saw a smirking warlord who said, "Thanks for the brains. We'll be sure to put them to work. Don't worry. They may come to like life on the surface. Hey, all of you! Say goodbye to your lives up in the clouds. We're you're new family now."
The scout captains were publicly shamed. They'd allowed some of our best and brightest to be enslaved and forced to live groundside forever, for a guy who would use their knowledge for who-knew-what. They were stripped of their ranks, dishonorably discharged, and forbidden from entering the workforce ever again. They were flagged as 'too irresponsible with Enclave resources to be recognized as regular citizens.' My brother lost his credibility, his life's work, and whatever shred of acceptance my father had left for him. Cast out of both the military and from our family, he had no home. Rather than suffer through a long, painful demise, he decided to jump off the clouds. I was too late to stop him. So ended Sunfire... bright, promising captain of the Enclave scouting regiments. No home, no family, no honor. I'd looked up to him -- he was my model. My captain. My brother.
Things just got worse in my family after that. Mom and Dad, they wouldn't stop fighting. I couldn't concentrate in the academy. People looked at me and saw the sister of the disgraced captain Sunfire. If I hadn't met Breezetail and the others... who knows? My corpse would've looked right at home rotting next to my brother's, I suppose.
There's only so much responsibility you can put on people. There's only so much you can expect out of them before they start failing. And when they fail, you don't blame them for not being prepared for a job that was never theirs. It ain't right. The bastards in the Enclave brass were too stubborn to realize that. Their policies regarding the surface couldn't be matched by our military power. Losing a dozen soldiers ain't much for an army, but we were not an army. Just a few thousand hastily-trained recruits put into complex machines of war and told to do as we were told, and nothing else. We were barely the equal of Equestria's wartime domestic force. Who paid for their mistakes and blindness? Not them, that was for sure. I would never forgive them -- I will never forgive them.
I looked up and saw Predator, and wished it were my brother standing in his place. Hell, even alongside him, whatever. Genetically modified? Fine. Cybernetically augmented? Sure. Alive? Yes, please.
I sighed and glanced sideways. Delvius was looking back at me with concern.
"What?" I asked, my nose clogged and my eyes watery. Even if he couldn't see the latter, he'd definitely have noticed the former from how my voice sounded.
He recoiled and looked uncertain how to proceed. He slowed down, moving from Predator's side to mine. Goldwreath overtook us, too distracted by all the wondrous sights around him to notice us.
"I'm just concerned," Delvius said. "You haven't spoken since earlier."
"Maybe because I've got nothing to say," I retorted.
He winced and looked away. He didn't deserve that. He was just being a decent person and showing concern, but I just wasn't in the mood to talk about it. I prayed that he'd be understanding, and said nothing else on the matter. Thankfully, he didn't prod.
Once we were across the bridge, Predator halted us. "Once we are within the compound, I encourage the utmost caution," he said. "We were lucky on our way here. We were allowed to talk and rest. If we were noticed by any bandits, they did not decide to approach us. But I know what lies inside the facility. Security measures range from heavy blast doors to automated turrets, and the computers, if they yet function, will not yield their secrets easily. I suspect we will have to disable the various firewalls before the program Vesperius provided you will even be allowed to operate within the system."
"Well then, I'm glad you'll be with us. You seem... more than capable of handling threats," Delvius commented. Then with some hesitation he asked, "So... how do you know so much about this place?"
Predator looked over to the building and took a deep breath. "My intentions for accompanying you three were not merely to ensure your survival. For decades now I have done my best to let the past be the past. For the most part, I have succeeded. Still, circumstance would have it that you would go where I have done my best to avoid. My mission over you has become personal , and with each step I take I realize just how curious I've been for all this time." He turned back to us. "I was made there. In its confines, my flesh was stripped away and replaced with wires and metal." He hummed. "I know not what I expect to find. Nothing of value, I think. There are few conspiracies and old-world projects that can survive two centuries. I suppose I'm the exception."
Delvius nodded. "Perhaps you seek closure? Well regardless, I hope whatever you find inside gives you greater peace."
"The best peace is that which people give themselves," Predator said. "I have given myself that. More likely, I simply seek greater understanding. But the sentiment is appreciated."
We made our way forward, passing by the first buildings that lined the elevated banks of the Tiber. These ones looked like... cafes. Little diners. In its heyday I could imagine colorful shops. Maybe some zebra foal asking his parents for cotton candy -- if they had cotton candy in Roam. At night, maybe some bars, and I bet the view would've been great for couples. All gone now, though. Replaced by grey and... darker grey.
Oh Celestia, this place was depressing. Bitter work for a better future, right? I liked the goal. It was the most anyone could look forward to. Just how much misery was between us and those happy times, though, I couldn't say. The uncertainty was the worst part.
As we trotted the desolate road towards the base of the facility, I let out a deep sigh. "Let's get this over with."
***Roama Victrix***
Predator looked up at the massive armored doors that marked the entrance to the Principium Engineering Foundation. The passing of all these years had scarcely marred their integrity. There were black streaks where I assumed people had detonated explosives, and dents where perhaps others had tried to smash through. Their size and strength were impressive, and had prevented all attempts of forced entry.
"Many would have thought these to be excessive," Predator said, running a hoof over their smooth surface. "I certainly thought so, when I first saw them. But the secrets they protected warranted no subtle protection. And indeed, here they still are..." He took a deep breath. He turned to us.
"Vesperius gave you a program to allow your entry, yes?"
Goldwreath pulled out his black device and gave the screen a few taps. "I've no experience with such things. Do I just... tap this? Hacking seemed much more complicated in all those movies and videos."
"The hacking was pre-done for us. So yes, it's that easy. Activate the program," Predator instructed. Goldwreath did as he was told.
Goldwreath focused on the screen. "Alright, looking for signal... signal acquired." That seemed to surprise him. "So the facility is indeed still functioning. Authenticating now."
Predator stood and stared at the doors. Moments passed, and he lightly struck them with his hoof. "Come on," he muttered. "Open. Open."
A rumbling came from underneath. The security doors groaned, grinding downwards and disappearing into the foundation of the facility. Their absence revealed a shadowed chamber, unseen by the outside world for the greater part of two centuries. A draft rushed between us, entering the chamber and filling it with the dry air of the wasteland.
Predator paused for a moment. When he moved forward, so did we. We stepped beneath the entrance, and henceforth were within the premises. I pulled my gladius out. Skyfire's rifles glowed and cast a sinister green over the glossy floor, revealing our surroundings in dim light.
The reception area was a circular space, composed of two floors. Twin stairways on both sides of the area lead to the second floor, which was nothing more but a small platform in front of a door that, presumably, lead deeper into the facility. The back end of the first floor, between the stairways, was occupied by a series of terminals seated safely behind armored glass windows. If an intruder were actually able to penetrate the front entrance, there were metal extensions protruding from the ground and from the walls that would have acted as cover for security personnel. But for armed intruders, those wouldn't have been the real threat.
Skyfire was the first to halt, peering into the dark with her faintly-glowing, orange, bug-eye visors. "There's something here!" she warned.
We all stopped in our tracks as something massive lumbered from the shadows. Skyfire and I jumped back as a hulking robotic zebra stepped forward to meet us. At perhaps thrice the size of Predator, the thing's head almost reached the threshold of the second floor. Made in the likeness of praetorian guards, with a purple paintjob and appropriately shaped armored chassis, the robot before us regarded us with two glowing blue eyes.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears as adrenaline flooded my veins. For whatever good it would have done, I ionized my blade. Bad move. The robot's cold eyes focused on me, and I knew I was done for.
But, "Fulminata," Predator said. The mechanical guardian immediately withdrew, and moved back to the center of the room, where my adjusting eyes had previously failed to see it.
We all stood there for a moment, the shock draining from us to make way for relief. My hooves were trembling.
"It should be that I'll remember the proper access phrases to prevent these independent security measures from attacking us," Predator informed us. "And on the other hoof, the program Vesperius gave Goldwreath should ensure no firewall will hold us back. From here, it ought to go smoothly. "
"'Independent security measures?'" Goldwreath questioned, not seeming very pleased by the thought of it.
"Yes, independent," Predator replied, gesturing to the robot. "The likes of these Praetorian Class mechanical walkers operate off-grid, unattached to the network here. It was a foresight by their designers to prevent them from being remotely hacked in the case of a cyber-attack on the facility. If reprogramming was required, one had to pacify them with the proper phrase and physically access their systems via a panel within the armored chassis. Each individual walker possessed a different pacification phrase, ensuring that even if a determined intruder could pacify one, and perhaps even reprogram it, the rest of the security walkers would continue to operate as intended."
"Seems dangerous," Skyfire commented, eyeing the docile construct. "But then again, no security system's perfect. If it worked for you guys, who am I to judge?"
Predator nodded. He made his way over to one of the stairways and began ascending. We followed closely, and in a tight group. I suppose the shock of encountering a working and very dangerous security walker had us all seeking safety in numbers.
"Be on your guard," Predator said. As if we needed to be told. "The passing of so many years can cause any sort of disruption. Corruption of security protocols is a real possibility. It may be that things will not go as smoothly as we'd like."
"Well, between Skyfire's guns and the glowing blades Delvius and I sport, we can handle whatever comes," Goldwreath declared. "And... then there's you," he added, perhaps with a twinge resignation. "You've got enough firepower on you to handle the wasteland. I'm sure we'll make it out of this."
He gave me and Skyfire a nudge and smile. I smiled back. Yeah, we were going to make it.
"Well, I'm quite certain I'll survive, at the very least," Predator intoned, snapping out his retractable lightning rifle. The air lit up with crackling arcs of electricity, and the area was awash with the mixing glow of Skyfire's plasma and Predator's lightning. "Keep your focus on yourselves. I'd hate to inform Vesperius of your loss."
I frowned. That didn't raise my confidence.
***Roama Victrix***
"Just hold on, Goldwreath!" I shouted, hoping to be heard over the thunderous din as two machinegun turrets pelted his shield with a nonstop storm of lead. These were the second set of the damn things we'd come across on this floor. We'd gotten lucky with the first one; they'd been placed inside of a viewing room, where behind thick glass windows would've been shown the newest technological marvel or experimental machinery. The wide, open space of the room made spotting them easy, and the availability of cover amongst numerous columns made spreading their fire and taking them out none-too-challenging. Skyfire's plasma rifles worked wonders against their armored chassis. Following their destruction, Predator had ordered us to follow him as he charged forward and down the hall, but the tighter, closer space and lack of cover had gotten us pinned down while trying to catch up to him. Thankfully, we managed to come across some more of the barricades the security personnel would've used.
Now as it turned out, Goldwreath actually could hear me. "I don't exactly have a choice, do I?" he yelled back, holding up and hiding behind his Legion-issue scutum. A bullet struck against the rim of his shield, ricocheting off the nearby well before bouncing back against his helmet. The impact had no lethality but nonetheless exposed on his face a panic only one in his position could experience.
"Toss me your gun!" I told him. "I can take a shot at them while they're focused on you!"
"No!" he replied. "Keep yourself in cover. I am not having you get hurt again for my sake!" He turned to Skyfire. "Can you get a bead on them?"
Skyfire poked her head over the threshold of our cover -- a low wall designed for security personnel. Ironic that the same fortifications meant to protect this place were now being used to assault it. If I weren't being fired upon I'd have amused myself with the poetry of it.
Immediately, a stream of bullets was sent her way. She yelped as a round bounced off her helmet. She fell back under cover, squirming and panting and feeling over where she'd been hit with a hoof. "Uh-uh!" she shook her head. "Nope. Those things got good targeting computers. I ain't sticking my head out again."
"Damn it," Goldwreath growled. "Where the hell is Predator?"
As if answering his question, from beyond our little metal barricade came a flash of light. The bullets stopped. A sizzling hiss filled the air. Slowly, we poked our heads out.
There Predator stood, atop the ruins of one of the turrets; his lightning-gun in one hoof, the barrel of the second turret in the other. His armor was steaming and riddled with dents from bullet impacts, but he seemed fine. Of course he was fine.
He tossed the wreckage aside. "Perhaps I should've have been clearer," he said as we crawled out of our shelter to meet him. "I told you to follow me. I didn't think I had to tell you to follow me and keep pace with me. It seemed obvious enough."
Goldwreath stomped right up to him, seething. "Next time, try not to charge forward without us," he scowled. "I don't know if you haven't noticed, but we aren't exactly as durable as you are. We can't just charge through this place and come out alive."
"Reserve your anger," Predator said plainly. "I do not belittle you for not having my capabilities, but my speed could've been matched easily. Your fear held you back. Had you kept close you would've avoided drawing the security's attention, and you would not have had this little brush with death. I'd rather avoid the little fights, and I am able to do so because I recognize the value of speed. From the moment that first series of turrets opened fire on us, I knew haste became important to our mission."
Goldwreath growled. "You'll excuse us if we go a little more cautiously into the dark halls of an unknown place."
Predator snorted. "I advise you to dispense of that fear. Caution is one thing, and failing to be confident when you should be is another. You were in my presence. I know this place. As long as you followed my direction, you need not be afraid." He stepped towards Goldwreath. "I watch over you three, do not worry. Like a parent over foals. You're all so... vulnerable. And foolish."
Goldwreath's eyes popped wide and his limbs tensed. He growled and drew his gladius, ready to actually start a fight. I'll admit, Predator's condescension got on my nerves, though his point was sound. But thank the gods, Skyfire got between the two of them.
"Guys! Keep it together," she said. "Now ain't the time to quarrel. We're different people, we got different ideas of how we deal with danger. Let's figure that out later. For now, we'll follow your lead, Predator." She stared Goldwreath down through her helmet. He grit his teeth but relented, turning away and shaking his head. I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Very well," Predator said nonchalantly. I rolled my eyes. "Now that we have a moment of understanding, I suppose I should at least admit how odd this all is. The network-bound security systems should not be hostile to us. I have clearance, and any in my company should not be fired upon. It could be that the passage of time has eroded the integrity of the security databanks. From my calculations, I assumed it would not be. Possible, yes, I had considered it, but unlikely -- almost entirely out of the equation."
Skyfire looked to Predator. "So, you think the security systems got corrupted? I wouldn't have thought so. In Equestria at least, high-level systems get extra measures to protect against data corruption. It'd take way more than just two centuries to deteriorate the info stored in this place. Only way I see it being a real possibility is if some guys fucked up big time while trying to hack the systems."
"I thought of that as well," Predator replied. He brushed the remains of a bullet off his armor and hummed in thought. "Obviously, this changes everything. Our time here will not be as leisurely or safe as I had desired. Shame. There is a wealth of data within these walls, and I would have liked to personally review it all without being shot at."
He sighed, then turned around and pointed down the dark hallway. The multitude of corridors branching off from it, labelled by pristine signs shrouded in darkness, were abuzz with the whirring of functioning security mechs and systems -- some of which were heading towards us now. "No time to talk or tarry, then. We must make our way to the central control room and barricade ourselves within, and hope a path out presents itself."
Goldwreath turned, looking shocked. "We're going to deliberately trap ourselves?" He shook his head. "Running ahead of us was one thing, but now you're going to ask us to seal ourselves in the middle of this place? Are you out of your mind?"
"It is a tactical risk," Predator replied. "Necessary to your survival, and if you won't believe that, then at the very least it is necessary for the mission. That computer of yours is fast for its size, but not fast enough to copy terabytes of data quickly enough for convenience. We will be held here for a while."
As he spoke, Praetorian-Class walker wandered into the hallway, perhaps drawn by the fuss of our recent scuffle with the facility's actual security systems. Its blue eyes looked over the wreckage before gazing upon us.
Predator bade us follow him and cantered down the hall. "Plumbum!" he called out to the walker as we passed by. It was satisfied with that, and proceeded to continue its patrol without giving us resistance. "No stopping now. It's either one plan or no plan at all, if you want to get out of here alive."
His tone was dead-serious. I did not feel any doubt when we first entered the complex. I had been too thrilled by the prospect of adventure and new knowledge to realize the very real chances of death. Wait, no, that wasn't it -- I did in fact acknowledge the risks, but I'd been too taken by my desires to feel the weight of my pursuits. The darkness of the halls and the smoking heaps littering the hall behind us all came crashing into me. The walls seemed to grow taller, wider, and closer. The pain in my injured shoulder, which I had borne through grit teeth, felt tripled. I could feel my throat tightening, and I fell against the wall, panting.
A moment of panicked breathing, then I felt hooves on my shoulder. I yelped. "Delvius?" Skyfire grabbed my face and made me look into her eyes. I just blinked and kept breathing. The world felt so far away, muted, and yet more frighteningly real than ever before.
"Aw, hell." She yanked her helmet off and forced eye contact. Her orange irises bore into me. "Delvius! Get a hold of yourself!" she yelled.
Predator pulled out his lightning gun and aimed behind us. From that direction came the clanging and whirring of machines of all types. I dared not look.
"Get him up," Predator ordered. "Umbra! Labyrinthus! Turbatio!" If he was trying to stop whatever was coming with words, it wasn't working. He growled and squeezed the trigger of his rifle, and after a second's delay the arcs from all three prongs of his weapon's tip converged into a single bolt in the middle that shot out with ferocious luminescence. The air was filled with the crackling of electricity, and sparks flew. "Now!" he shouted.
Goldwreath galloped over and helped Skyfire pull me from the wall. I wasn't ignorant to what was going on. I knew my system was in shock, unable to handle the pressure of battle. I wasn't ignorant to the realities of combat. I'd seen my fair share, but I'd never been on the receiving end. I'd always been safe, behind ranks of my brethren back in the praetorians. Turns out, I could be brave and proactive so long as my skin wasn't on the line -- easy to feel smug when there's no danger. Was this all I could take? A little danger and suddenly... collapse?
We made a turn at the end of the hall and were met with the unguarded doors of an elevator. There were two sets of buttons next to it: a series of faintly glowing yellow ones indicating floors, and another set of glowing red ones I knew not the purpose of. Predator rounded the corner and was just about to join us, when a blue laser caught his left hindleg and slagged his armor. My heart stopped as he limped for a step, stood shakily, and collapsed. My breath left me, but came back straight away when I saw that he simply lost his balance and just needed to get back up. Anyone else, though...
He rushed forward and slammed the yellow button indicating the lowest floor and proceeded to press a sequence of red ones. The elevator door opened, and we jumped in straight away. In that confined space, surrounded by armored walls and a relaxing absence threats, my companions took what little reprieve they could. Goldwreath felt back against the wall and slumped to the floor, gazing at me with concern. I looked away. Skyfire's own eyes were focused on the dent in her helmet. Shaking, she took the object which had saved her life and quickly put it back on. She seemed calmer after that.
And Predator? Well if I could tell anything from his body language, I'd say that Predator was a little like I was. Confused. Anxious, even -- maybe not for his own life as I was, but perhaps for the integrity of the information he was after. What was it he wanted so much out of this place, I wondered. Because whether he knew it or not, or whether it was truly the case or not, the way he fumbled with his weapon and the way his helmet's visor glanced every which way suggested no small amount of fear within our stoic guide. In a strange way, I felt glad to see him unsettled. A petty part of me relished in his turmoil, no thanks to how he'd treated us earlier. Mostly though I was just looking for justification for my own breakdown. If Predator, the two-hundred year old relic of war, and an experienced fighter no doubt, could feel fear, surely I could be excused for my weakness. Why, if anything, I'd handled my first real combat well, had I not? Surely! I'd kept a level head for most of the engagement and even suggested options for a more favorable battle. I was handling it well, yes? Yes?!
That's what I told myself as the elevator plunged into the deeps. Floors passed by, several every second. We were moving fast. Yet, not fast enough for me to forget what I'd just put the others through when it was most unwanted. I looked around. These three with me were all truly capable fighters, skilled in the art of combat. Goldwreath had had his people to protect, which kept him sharp. Skyfire's formal training showed itself in her reflexes, her aim, and her speed. And Predator, well, he was himself. He was bred for this. My previous delight at his anxiety turned to guilt as I saw his ruined hindleg. I knew not if he felt pain, but the laser had melted all the way through to his leg; the metal slag was mixed and dripped with a black liquid too watery to be oil from his armor. Indirectly, I had caused him that injury through my breakdown. Anyone else would've been crippled for life.
Of the four of us, I was the only one that'd never really had to use my sword. I was the only one that'd never truly needed to fight, and now here that inexperience was risking us all. I was not worthless, of that I was sure. But in the wasteland, it is a sad reality that the ability to fight is a necessity, and a requirement that I did not possess. I'd had my years to prepare and used them for other pursuits. To learn on the fly would be both impractical and potentially lethal. I would not risk their lives for my own ambitions. A person ought to make his desires a reality through his own strength. Perhaps I'd not given this whole adventuring thing the thought it deserved.
Truth was, I wanted history. And while firsthand experience is excellent and marvellous, it isn't necessary. Just the direct accounts of those seeing the history, making it... that was enough.
Perhaps I did not belong out here. That was not necessarily a bad thing. It did not render my ambitions for naught. My thoughts went to Quintillius, the old centurion. If I were like him... well, not crippled, anyway, could I not be of use through other means? Even if not good in combat, I was strong and able. My mind was in its peak, like my life. Could I not earn my keep yet archive the happenings of the world? I believed I could.
Again, my eyes went to my companions. A sense of regret and sadness filled me, and yet also I was relieved. They would not be risked by my lack of ability. First off, of course, we had to get back out of here alive. After that, though, it was just a matter of whether or not lord Vesperius needed himself a secretary of some sort.
***Roama Victrix***
All of a sudden, the elevator stopped. The lot of us were sent tumbling around. Predator fell forward, threatening to crush Delvius. I rushed forward and managed to pull him away just enough so the fall didn't squash him. The zebra held onto me tightly, like a foal. His breathing was erratic. I frowned and pulled him closer. What was going on with the guy? One moment he's fine, the next it was as if all he wanted was to hide in a corner.
"You okay?" I asked. After a while, he nodded.
I wasn't buying it. "No, really," I pressed. "Are you?"
He looked up at me. Thankfully, he really did seem more composed. Not lost and in shock like earlier, anyway. Again, he nodded.
I looked to the others. "And you guys, you alright?"
Goldwreath groaned. He'd hit his head against the wall. "No. Ears are ringing." He took off his helmet and massaged his temples. "What just happened?"
Predator rolled onto his back and let out a huff. "I suppose our sudden stop was not the consequence of a kindly force." He grumbled. "We're probably in lockdown. Getting out of here may be a little more difficult than anticipated."
All the lights went out. Overhead, a lightbulb repeatedly blinked red, illuminating our tiny space with grim light.
Predator sighed. "Oh yes. Definitely on lockdown."
Goldwreath laughed bitterly. "That's fine. You know this place well, right?"
I shot Goldwreath a look. "I thought I said now wasn't the time for this kind of shit?"
"You did," Predator chimed in. "But his sarcasm is not without basis, much as I hate to admit it. I thought I knew this place. It seemed so... unchanged. Two hundred years and barely a scratch on the surface. In theory, the inside should've been the same." He sat up and stayed silent for a moment. "Clearly not."
"So what now?" I asked. "Are we trapped in here?"
"I think not," Predator said. "I know this place well enough still. The elevator must stop at a floor in the case of a lockdown." He stood up and made his way to the doors. His eyes scanned the edges, and he laid his ears against the metal and gave the doors a few thumps with his hoof.
He took a step back and turned. "Now we continue, merely along a longer and more dangerous path." His hindlegs bucked, busting the elevator doors wide open with a deafening clang. Goldwreath grimaced and held his head with his forehooves.
"Gods!" he hissed, pressing his forehooves harder into his temples. "More warnings next time, huh? First the shenanigans earlier, and now this..."
"Fine," Predator deadpanned. "Now, hurry. This close to the main control room, and with the lockdown ongoing, security will be even fiercer. Again, I'll say: stick close to me." His visor wondered over Delvius. "Will this be a problem? What became of your fervor, hm?"
Delvius looked up. He swallowed and stood, taking a deep breath. He smiled nervously. "Just a little shaken up. I'm fine. Let's get this on, then."
Predator said nothing, but readied his rifle and stepped out the doors first. Goldwreath shook off his headache and followed. Delvius moved to be the next one out, but hesitated. I patted him on the back. "I got you, don't worry," I assured him. He gave me a thankful nodded and, with a few quick breaths, jumped out after them. Then it was my turn.
The look of the place had changed. Way up, things were all sleek and clean. The walls and the floors had merged together in gentle slopes. There were no sharp edges, and the windows allowing vision into the different labs were a a stylized oval with shiny metal rims. The polish of the walls and floor would've given everything a nice, shiny quality, if there'd been more light. Down here, it became obvious that security became top priority. Red lights flashed from wall-mounted bulbs. The walls and doors were now pure steel, and were only distinguishable from each other via riveted metal doorways. Above each door was a metal placard identifying the room within -- and unlike up top, the rooms here weren't directly named. You had your rooms C-5 and B-4, and if you were a spy you'd need prior knowledge as to what those codes designated to have any hope of getting anywhere quickly.
The corridors were built for greater security, too. Given the fortifications up top, I didn't think it was possible. Here, the corridors were narrower, and at every intersection there would be an elevated platform, accessible by thin stairways, from which guards would've watched every single hall and corner. Of course there were no more guards, but the turrets remained. We encountered one in the center of an intersection, but it did not fight us. It could not. It was a wreck: torn from its swivel and strewn all over the ground. Above us, where it would have been, was a mess of ripped wires and torn metal. In fact, the shape of the damage almost looked like...
"Claws," Predator noted. "The shape of those marks... claws. Large claws."
Goldwreath's eyes scanned the marks. "Tell me whatever did that isn't still down here," he said slowly. "No, really. Please tell me."
I looked to the side, down another hall branching off from our position. As expected, there were armored doors on the side, leading to rooms that hid who-knew-what in terms of pre-apocalypse research and technology. But at the end of the hall was something that I was sure as hell shouldn't have been there: a jagged hole, a veritable gaping pit devouring the entire wall and most of the floor. Rocks and dirt were strewn about near the entrance.
I pointed it out. "Guys..."
Predator immediately ran towards it. Not exactly what I had in mind, but I was not leaving his side down here. The others went after him without question, too. Suddenly I got the feeling turrets and robots were the least of our worries.
He stood at the edge of the chasm, peering into the dark. Where the metal floor ended in jagged protrusions, dirt began; a gentle slope leading further into the deeps. A light draft came from the tunnel, and with it a low howl of wind. I stepped back from the spook.
"Guys? Shouldn't we be stepping away from the hole?" Delvius asked nervously. He peeked over his shoulders, his gladius in hoof as he trembled. "The faster we finish the mission the sooner we can leave."
Predator stepped away from the wall. "The sooner you can leave, perhaps," he corrected. My eyes went wide. I didn't like the sound of that at all. "This mission was originally yours. I accompanied you through my own will, hoping to see for myself what had lain dormant here. I have done so. But this warrants investigation."
"You're leaving us?" Delvius asked, aghast. "You can't! We happen to need you to get out of here!"
"No. You don't," Predator said. "You have each other. Between you three is enough skill to emerge victorious in almost any circumstance." That was actually the most encouraging thing he'd said all day. Too bad the mood of the moment wouldn't let me appreciate the compliment.
We said nothing. Hanging over us was a cloud of doubt and despair. Goldwreath, who had seemed to hold something against Predator since meeting him, could now only grimace as if the idea of going on without him caused him pain. He licked his lips and cleared his throat is if he'd found words, but ultimately stayed silent.
"You are uncertain?" Predator asked, cocking his head sideways -- as if the answer wasn't obvious enough.
"Ah. You actually are," he concluded, actually seeming surprised. "You three underestimate the power of will. It is a dangerous thing, in the wasteland, to be overconfident. But there is also great waste in not seizing every opportunity that is within our power to take. But of course you know this... yet I've a feeling that most, if not all of you, care more not to waste than to be safe." He turned away from Delvius to look over Goldwreath and I. "Your hearts are fiery ones, yet they dampen, as any could. Tend that fire. A dosage of boldness will do you good. When we were up and about on the surface, did I not speak of caution, Goldwreath? And yet when we arrived, I prodded us to go forward fearlessly. Our positions switched. You held back, though the very fuel of your mission -- your employment under Vesperius, even -- is will. Will to... do. To render service; at first, it was to purchase leverage for your people, but along the way did it not become desire to better this wasteland? And you, Skyfire? Is it not the same?"
If by that he meant the fact that I was on these errands to pay the debt my friends owed the Legion, well... he was right. Really right. I didn't have to do those things; Vesperius had made that pretty clear. Yet there I was, underground in some old Roaman research facility, looking for some room from which to copy data. For what? Morbid curiosity. I'd spent my whole life up in the clouds, going through drills, enduring the humdrum... and it sucked. Pegasi didn't deal well with being couped up, but that's exactly what we went through every day. Leaving that life had been too easy. 'Hey Skyfire, we're leaving the Enclave, cause fuck these guys,' Breezetail said. 'We're headed where they can't ever get to us and start a new life.' I was on board pretty much straight away. The moment my brother was gone, there wasn't anything left to keep me there except my friends, and they wanted out just like me.
Predator was right about me, at least. From the look on Goldwreath's eyes, his words hit home with him, too.
Predator shrugged. "There are many ways of living in the wasteland, if one does not place survival as a top priority. You clearly don't see it as one, lest you'd not have gone on this errand at all. This is the life you've all chosen, and it is best not to pursue it half-heartedly. Embrace your choice. Become like a knife, sharp and narrow. Excel at what you do, and I do believe you'll find some meaning to all this. Look at your companions, Goldwreath. Look."
Goldwreath's gaze met mine. Then he turned to Delvius. Predator nodded. "Good. They are brave. They are resourceful. They can keep pace with you, and accompany you as you lead them to do many things of consequence. Do not underestimate their ability. Down these halls, behind the great doors designated by two zeros, is your objective. Take it! Put down whatever is between you and what you desire. For it is what you desire, is it not, Goldwreath? A life as a bulwark against the many terrors of the world; an existence of vindicating nobility and bravery, wherein every moment is a constant struggle to achieve better? It is a great passion that cannot be silenced before it has accomplished the irreversible."
Goldwreath was stunned. His expression was one of genuine shock, but not out of terror. In his eyes was a gleam of that very passion Predator spoke of. My feathered friend looked back down the hall.
"But what if it's here? What if... what if we need you?" he asked, echoing my thoughts precisely. For my part, I still didn't feel good with this at all, and hoped desperately Predator would reconsider.
"If it is here, you put it down," Predator answered. "You do not need me for that. You have the proper companionship for the task. Can you not... feel it? A looming strength? A... reassuring presence?"
Goldwreath took a moment to process that. His hoof went into his saddlebag, and he pulled out a golden eagle attached to a short metal pole. Goldwreath gave the pole a shake, and it extended into a long rod: a staff with the gleaming eagle on top. I'd heard stories of how the Roamans venerated the eagle. It was the symbol of their highest god, Jupiter. Me, I didn't much care for the stories, but my two Roaman friends seemed instantly reinvigorated. That alone made me feel better. A teensy-weensy bit, anyway. As Goldwreath held the eagle close, a pressure built up in my ears, filling my head with a low, soft... humming.
"That should be enough," Predator told us. "More than enough, actually. If it comes to it, I believe you'll see what I mean. But for now, I must go. Remember what I said, you three. It is a passion that cannot be stopped that leads you on. Be confident in yourselves, and let your doubts be silenced. It's how I get by."
Predator turned to the chasm and took a few steps down the dirt slope. Goldwreath took a step after him, probably still having some doubt about letting him leave. I myself had half a mind to plead one more time, but ultimately his confidence in us stopped me. If he believed we could do it, well... great. I guess it really was time to start stepping up to this new life.
Before he disappeared completely into the darkness, he looked back up at us. "We will meet again. Soon, even. At night, keep a sharp eye." In his visor, two red lights lit up. Orbs of red casting a faint glow on the rock walls. The two lights focused on each of us as Predator regarded us one last time. Then he turned and disappeared down the tunnel.
Delvius let out a breath. He gave his injured shoulder a roll. "Well... life of consequence, eh?" He chuckled nervously. "Let's just hope he wasn't just saying all that to make us feel better."
"I think he meant it," I said. "At least, he had no reason to lie to us. If he felt that we could take out whatever's down here, then hell, I'll roll with it. If I die, I die free and doing something with myself. Truth be told, that's... that's more than I could have hoped for just a few weeks ago. But I'm sure we'll get out of here, even if we do have to go through all the security again. I don't know about you guys, but I feel like we can actually do this!" Wow, I was actually believing myself. "What do you think?"
Delvius tentatively nodded. "Well, I've spoken to the gods before. Sometimes they answered, I think. Hey, if they're with us on this, we'll make it out." He took a deep breath. "Right, Goldwreath?"
Goldwreath looked the eagle in its metal eyes. He turned to us and smiled. "Right."
He trotted back down the hall and lead the way. As we followed, Delvius shook his head and thumped his temple a bit.
"Something wrong?" I asked.
"Eh, there's this odd humming sound in my ears," he replied. "It's not bad. Actually, it's a little comforting, if you'll believe me. Just wondering what's causing it is all."
***Roama Victrix***
"Where is all the security?" Goldwreath asked aloud. "Can't be that there's no power. All these red emergency lights are up. Doors for those stairs worked, too. I can even hear the faint hum of generators. So what's going on?"
Following the room labels from the letters D through A, we found the hall leading to the great double doors Predator mentioned. They were lit up by the dim red at the end of a slightly wider corridor, at the sides of which were twin platforms for security personnel. As we made our way closer, we saw heaps of torn metal: the husks of ruined security mechs and turrets. Their metal was ripped apart by claws, just as we feared. And when we arrived at the junction right before the massive doors, we saw the signs of battle. The walls and floor were blackened in some places and slagged in others; deep claw marks ran along the length of some of the corridors. Whatever was here had fought the security and won.
Delvius looked over the wreckage. "I guess that answers that. So... answer something for me. If, in the unfortunate situation we encounter whatever did all this... um, what would it be? What can you guys think of that could do all this?"
"Manticores, maybe," Goldwreath answered, stepping over the head of a fallen Praetorian walker. Delvius shuddered from the thought of it. "But I don't think regular manticores come from underground, tear open metal, and plough through military-grade walkers without even taking a scratch."
"So... mutated manticores?" Delvius questioned, seeming even more uncomfortable.
Goldwreath shook his head. "The more time we spend down here the more I'm ruling out any regular animal. I don't see any blood or bones. You'd think all this security would've been to at least wound whatever came through here. So I think what we're seeing is either one of the following: an incursion, long enough ago that whatever skeletons or blood dried up and became dust, or a more recent attack that was horribly lopsided -- all instigated by some deadly beast."
Delvius chuckled nervously. He swallowed. "I know which of those I wish were true."
We arrived before the doors. Oh, they were still up, which I felt was great. Whatever tore this place up hadn't been able to bring them down. Didn't even seem to try; the damn things were pristine. Goldwreath didn't seem happy, though.
He stepped back from the gargantuan doors and regarded them carefully. He swallowed. "I've a feeling it's in there," he said grimly. "At least, something has to be. Look."
Beside one of the doors was a panel displaying some text. It was in Imperial Roaman, and I couldn't read it. "What's it say?" I asked.
"Manual lockdown?" I cursed. "So it wasn't automatic. Something was keeping tabs on us and tried to stop us before we arrived. Probably hoped we'd suffocate in the elevator."
Delvius' eyes popped wide and he looked around frantically, focusing on the ceiling. "Hidden cameras must be everywhere. If whatever is in there has been keeping its eyes on us, it must know we're here." He swallowed. "Do we... still open those doors?"
Goldwreath drew his sword and let the edges glow. "We have to. It's our mission. There's no turning back now." He turned to his fellow Roaman and held out the eagle to him. "Hold this."
Delvius stepped back, mouth agape. "Goldwreath... I'm not certain I deserve the honor."
"We can argue our worthiness later. I intend to step through those doors first, and I'll need to hold my shield up. Skyfire will cover me. You, Delvius, by virtue of the injury you sustained on my behalf, must be in the least danger. And so I entrust this to you. It's not a matter of sentiment. I'm just being pragmatic."
Delvius swallowed and sucked a breath in. He sheathed his own sword and gingerly took the eagle into his hooves. "Gods, forgive me if I drop this," he muttered.
With that, Goldwreath turned to the doors and pulled out his little black device. He approached the door panel and paused, wondering how to proceed. Surely the device had a means to open these doors, right? Vesperius seemed the type to think of everything beforehoof.
Goldwreath licked his lips, focusing onto the device's tiny screen and tapping away. He muttered to himself and sometimes paused to hum in thought; probably navigating whatever options the device gave him about the facility. I kept my eyes open, letting my helmet's targeting computer help me scan our dim surroundings. On the side of my heads-up-display were my plasma rifles' power level; they were good to go for another few firefights. I hoped whatever in there would melt to goo when I blasted it, otherwise I'd be shit outta luck. I didn't exactly have much else to contribute in a fight besides my flight, and I doubted that'd be of much use down here.
Goldwreath tensed. His hoof hesitated over the screen, shaking. He glanced back at us and said, "Get ready." And then he gave the device a last tap.
The red lights stopped blinking, and in their place shone the brighter white of the facility's regular bulbs. The corridors were lit up, and I admit that lifted their creepy quality quite nicely. The doors began to open.
Goldwreath hurriedly shoved his computer back into his saddlebags and pulled out his shield. He approached the widening gap between the doors cautiously, his eyes barely over the shield's rim. I stood behind him, crouched and ready to fire. Even as light poured into the room beyond, my targeting computer was hectically trying to find something to shoot at. My breathing tensed and I just ached to open fire.
The doors vanished into the walls, revealing the room beyond. From where I stood, I could see that it was yet another circular space, lined with chairs and keyboards above which were dozens of screens -- security footage, live from the rest of the facility. The place wasn't illuminated well, though. Probably the lights had burnt out. In the center of the room was a single massive screen covering the entire wall: the only thing displayed was a white line running horizontally from end to end over a purple background. In front of this massive screen were several complex-looking consoles.
Goldwreath stepped forward cautiously, glancing from side to side. I followed and did the same, my heart pounding and my rifles just begging to shoot.
But there was nothing. The whole room was clear, except for a faint ringing in my ears. Feedback from the noise of the doors grinding sideways, probably. Despite the fact that it was darker here compared to outside, we really didn't need light to see that the place was empty. I looked in all directions but saw only my friends and the various apparatus inside. Delvius smiled widely.
"It must've left," he chuckled, shaking his head. Goldwreath let his shield down and turned in place, as if not believing our luck. "It's okay, guys! All clear!"
I didn't believe him at first, but my targeting computer found nothing. This was a piece of tech that could spot a mouse in a field of tall grass. In some ways I'd come to trust it more than my own eyes. In the end, I relaxed, too.
While Delvius and I laughed to ourselves in relief, Goldwreath cantered forward, laying his shield and sword at the base of the consoles and pulling out his computer again. He looked over the multitude of buttons displayed before him, and eventually found a slot into which he jammed his device.
The white line on the massive screen fluctuated. A flat, synthetic female voice spoke: "Good day. I can see that personal data unit inserted into my data port; it bears an authorization program. All seems to be in order. You are permitted to access this mainframe. What is it you desire?"
I stepped forward and regarded the mainframe. I thumped the side of my helmet in an attempt to disperse the ringing; it was still there. "That's some computer," I commented. "Must be the local AI or something. Seems pretty complex, too, with that speech. Nothing at all like the combat computers I've seen."
"Given that you are authorized by an Imperial-level permit, I am allowed to elaborate on myself, if you so desire," the computer replied. I rose my brows. That was some computer, indeed.
"Later," Goldwreath cut in. He rubbed his temples and shook his head. He blinked hard. "Look, we need a copy of this facility's data. Everything. The sooner we can leave here, the better. Our mission is of utmost importance."
"I understand," the computer said. "I will begin this process immediately. Please standby."
Delvius glanced over at the open doors. "Should we close those? Just in case. Wasn't the original plan to seal ourselves in here for our own safety? This could take a while, after all."
Goldwreath shrugged. He looked tired and irritated. I was starting to get annoyed, too. The damn noise...
"Sure, fine," he dismissed. "Go ahead."
Delvius trotted over and activated the doorside console. The massive gates begin sliding back into place. Soon we were sealed inside with nothing but the light of the mainframe and the security footage to illuminate the area.
I sat down and took off my helmet, hoping to get rid of the ringing and take a moment to really relax. But no. It was still there. I grimaced and massaged my forehead.
My zebra friend returned. Looking up at the screen, he said, "So you're in charge of this place, huh? Just... fascinating. I'd heard stories of such advanced computers as yourself. Well, I don't know if you can feel flattered, but you're certainly quite interesting to me. While we wait, tell me a little about yourself."
If I were in a better mood, sure, I would've played twenty-questions with a machine. But with this headache I was picking up... bleh. I'd let Delvius do the asking.
The white line on the screen fluctuated as the computer spoke, "I am an Apollo-class artificial intelligence, designed for maximum processing power and decision-making freedom in the pursuit of my directives. Of that class of AI's, I was the last produced, and so have been given the designation 'Zaita.' My most recent directive was to act as a safeguard for the sensitive information held within my databanks. To that end, I have focused entirely on keeping security up."
Delvius smiled bitterly. "Hah. Yeah, we noticed. Not that I blame you for that, though. You were just following orders. I can respect that... Zaita." His smile turned more genuine. "A nice name, if I may say."
"If I could feel, as a mare I would blush," Zaita replied. "But as it is I can merely receive your words through a microphone and process the intended compliment. I must correct you, however; I do not run security for this facility, though I certainly could. I have kept my processing power exclusively to the task of fortifying the cyberspace of my mainframe. I do not even control the door to this room, let alone the lockdown protocol."
Delvius recoiled. He rose his brows. "Oh. I see. Well, if you felt that was the best course of action... or, well, calculated it as the best course of action, as would be more appropriate." He scratched his chin. "So... when this facility was under attack and this room was broken into, you just let it happen? Not that I'm judging. Must be some important stuff in those databanks of yours."
"Yes," Zaita said plainly. "Perhaps I might have been inclined to partake in physical security if I could see what was terminating the security measures. As it was, I decided against diverting the processing power."
Goldwreath, who'd laid his head against the console the past minute, looked up. His face was sweaty, and he looked to be in pain. Honestly, between the three of us, only Delvius seemed fine. He probably wasn't having his ears stabbed. Lucky duck.
The noise in my head got louder.
"You saw nothing?" my feathered fellow asked incredulously. He painstakingly tore himself from the console and stood up. He looked up at the screen. "How is that possible? Regardless of whether you control anything beyond yourself, you were witness to this place for the last two centuries at least... and you've seen nothing?"
"Most odd indeed," Zaita intoned. "Precisely why I did not intervene. The nature of the recent attack is enigmatic. The closest comparison I can put forward would be a violent poltergeist attack. The violence stopped, however, when whatever it was entered this room. It could have destroyed everything here, as it had done outside. Instead, a new phenomenon began: a signal of of extremely high frequency started attempts to hack into my databanks. I have thus far been able to repel all attempts. It is, however, trying again right now. The hardest it has ever tried, in fact. The signal itself is not within the hearing range of most organics, but its presence can cause neural interference that could result in headaches and disruption to the auditory nerves. Said disruption can manifest as an ever-present ringing; a tinnitus."
We looked to each other. Or rather, Goldwreath and I looked to each other; Delvius just stared at the screen, processing the new information, seemingly free of my plight. But one look into my fellow pegasus' eyes and I knew he had been feeling the same as me.
"Skyfire?" Goldwreath asked.
"Yeah," I answered. "I feel it, too."
Delvius looked to the two of us. "Feel what?"
Goldwreath ignored him. He turned to Zaita. "Zaita, I need you to hurry up with that copying. Turns out that thing could still be in here after all, and I do not want to let it have what it's after."
"Of course," the computer replied simply. "Diverting additional ram."
"Guys?" Delvius asked in concern, finally noticing our pain. "Is this something serious?"
"Probably," Goldwreath said, picking up his sword. "You, stay here. I'm going to stand by that door and make sure this damn thing stays away. Give me the eagle."
Delvius gave it up to him. "I'll make sure to get the data the moment it's finished copying," he said.
Goldwreath nodded. "Good. Skyfire, you're with me."
As we trotted back to the door, the ringing in my ears subsided... only to be replaced by powerful waves of dull noise. The humming was back, but it didn't feel too nice this time around. It wasn't the pleasant, soft sensation from earlier. No. It felt almost... angry.
"What the-?" Goldwreath staggered as the eagle in his hooves began glowing with a fluctuating blue light. Each pulse of light overlapped with the others, and as the eagle grew steadily brighter the fur of my body stood on end. Through the ground blasted a mild shock. The very air smelled of lightning.
Suddenly the eagle erupted with light and noise -- a wave that assaulted my senses and actually physically knocked me to the ground. The very air around me crackled furiously with blinding bolts of electricity. I felt the heat as lightning singed and burned the floor around me. I crunched into a ball, hoping that none of the stray bolts would strike me. Goldwreath, too stunned by what he was witnessing, could only hold onto the eagle. He was not harmed.
Over the deafening crackling and the fizzing out of wires, something roared in pain.
The lightning receded. The fur on my coat still stood straight up, though, and the overwhelming strength of a dull noise filled my ears. I almost couldn't hear anything else. Then my eyes glanced over to the doorway and my heart stopped.
Holy fuck. What was that?
In front of the great doors laid a thing; a monstrosity of a creature, glossy-black like obsidian, with four long legs each ending in three wickedly sharp black claws. It had a tail just as black as its thick body, and two wings splayed out over the blackened metal floor. Both appendages were vaguely translucent, and crisscrossed with dark veins.
The thing that caught my eye the most was its head. Attached to the body by a short neck, the head was long and sharp, like a croc's. Unlike a croc's, this thing's mouth opened up into a thrice-split mandible. The rear of its scalp jutted out into two curved arches, which bent towards each other. Between them was a scintillating energy, a pulsing green orb that rippled as if being distorted.
Its brightly-glowing emerald-green eyes looked us over. Goldwreath, who hadn't been knocked down by the wave, could only return the gaze in pure shock. Delvius, too, couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
The creature's body spasmed as electrical current visibly ran through its glassy black body. It snorted and growled; the growl of a pissed off beast. Its body suddenly lit up with lines of green, running from the eldritch energy on its head and extending to every limb. It started to get up.
But then the eagle in Goldwreath's hoof sent out another shockwave of noise. The creature hissed and promptly collapsed again, the lines disappearing from its body. Its head hit the deck, the mandibles agape and oozing a bubbling liquid that dripped from its black fangs.
Goldwreath's eyes were of utter bafflement. He looked to me and I could only mirror his disbelief. In his eyes was the question, just as I was sure he was seeing in my own: 'What the fuck just happened?'
Delvius shakily pulled himself up and looked up at Zaita's screen. Thankfully, it was still functioning. "H-how..." He swallowed. "How long?"
"Eighty-percent. I understand the severity of the situation. The signal is currently absent. I am diverting all of my resources to the task."
I got up, shaking. Goldwreath stood before the creature, frozen in place. His eyes looked over its limp body. I wasn't sure I liked getting any closer to the damn thing than was necessary, but hell, it was in front of the only exit. I cautiously approached my fellow pegasus, plasma cannons ready.
"So this is what emerged from the depths," Goldwreath said as I approached. I stood next to him. He shook his head, not taking his eyes off the creature. "What is it?" he asked absently. I didn't think he seriously expected me to answer, so I didn't.
A moment passed, and I suddenly realized the fact that we were doing nothing.
"Yeah, fuck you!" I growled, and blasted the creature all over with plasma. It growled weakly, lifting up a leg to shield its torso. I didn't relent. Its black body recoiled from the impacts, and gradually sections of its glassy hide started to melt. It otherwise didn't seem to badly damaged, but I didn't care. "Eat. This. You. Shit!" I snapped, unloading the last of my plasma into it. Its leg went limp and its claws twitched, then slowly relaxed and spread out.
Eventually, Goldwreath stopped me. "Alright. If it wasn't dead before, it should be now. It has to be." He stepped forward, raising his sword. "But just in case..." He looked down into its faintly glowing eye. A slightly brighter portion in the emerald green seemed to follow him. Fucking hell, the thing still was alive.
Not for long, though. Goldwreath stabbed it right in the socket with force enough to cut the bone on the edges. His blade sizzled as it it sunk deeper into the creature's head. The beast gave one last frantic effort, flailing its front limbs around. The very tip of one if its claws actually managed to scratch Goldwreath's cheek and drew blood, but he just shouted a defiant shout and thrust his sword as deep into the creature's skull as possible. Finally, it went limp. The scintillating energy behind its head was snuffed out.
Goldwreath pulled out and breathed deeply, staring hatefully at the creature's corpse. His grip on the eagle was tighter than ever.
"To the abyss with you," Goldwreath said... or at least, it came from Goldwreath's mouth. The voice that spoke was a lot deeper, more powerful. I put a hoof on Goldwreath's back.
"Hey, it's dead now," I said. "Calm down."
He swallowed, glaring down at the dead creature. Then he closed his eyes and looked away. "Vile thing," he said, "Whatever it is, it can't be good. Can we document the corpse somehow?"
"I got it," I told him. My helmet snapped a photo of the beast's lifeless body.
He nodded. His fury gave way to exhaustion, and he visibly slumped. He held onto the eagle for support. The overwhelming noise made way for a gentler humming sound. Whatever the hell it was, I was glad for it. It soothed me and calmed me down. I had a shit ton of questions, but I figured none of us had any answers. Vesperius might have had some, though. If anyone would've, it was him.
Still, for what it was worth, I looked the eagle in its eyes and sent it a thought: Hey, thanks.
You're very welcome.
My eyes went wide. Did it just... uh-uh. No way. Just ask Vesperius, Skyfire. Just ask Vesperius.
Goldwreath turned tiredly and faced Delvius. "Done yet?" he asked.
"The task is complete," Zaita said. "You may now take the data and do with it as you wish."
Delvius promptly took Goldwreath's device out of the mainframe port. He held it gingerly in his hooves. "To think that we went through all this for some data." He looked up at Zaita's screen. "Very sensitive, secret data, I assume?"
"I would certainly think so, if I were in your position and learned the contents of these archives for the first time," Zaita replied.
"Good. I guess it was all worth it, then." Delvius smiled. "Goodbye, Zaita."
"Goodbye."
Our zebra friend turned to us and began trotting over. "Shall we leave?"
"Yes, please," Goldwreath answered. He let out a sigh and rubbed his temple. He gave Zaita a look. "If we can. What's the status of the remaining security, Zaita?"
The great doors ground open. "I have expanded my influence over the facility. All the mechanical walkers and turrets will let you pass," the computer said, and boy, was that good news for us. "The facility is now completely open to you. You may leave or stay as you wish. I suggest leaving and coming back later on when you are in better shape, if you so desire."
Goldwreath smirked and bowed his head. He gave Zaita a grateful nod. "Well, we just might. Thank you. You did your duty well."
"Ah," the computer spoke. "Thank you. It was my last directive. I desired nothing less but its implementation."
Goldwreath smiled. He gestured for us to head out. "Goodbye, Zaita."
The screen's white line fluctuated as Zaita spoke her last word, "Goodbye."
We turned, stepping around the creature's corpse. Delvius kept as far away from it as possible. I'll admit, even when dead it exuded dread. But we passed by without incident. And we trotted down the halls and back to the elevator without incident. And finally, on the long ride back up to the surface, I laid my head against the elevator wall and let out a sigh. Finally, a little rest.
"So," the orange pegasus mare said, "As you can see, you and I went through crazy shit together. But that wasn't all of it, obviously. What's the fucking time, though?" She yawned. "I'm getting pretty tired."
"You going off on tangents, and dragging me with you, made this longer than it had to be," Delvius said with a laugh. "Either way, yes, I suppose we both need some rest."
"Who's your next interview with? Myst?" Skyfire asked.
Delvius looked to his schedule. "No. Right now, she'd be too busy talking with the tribes. Tomorrow, Goldwreath should be free. With the shoreline retaken, I imagine he'll need a few days himself away from the fighting."
Skyfire stood up, stretching her limbs and her neck. "Great, great... give that featherball a smack up the face for me, would you? I haven't seen him in a while."
"What? Why?" the zebra asked, aghast.
"Ooooh," she grinned. "You'll find out. I'm not sure which of us will narrate it, but you'll find out."
"Be that as it may, that's our imperator you're talking about. You really think his guards would let me, just because I'm his friend?"
"Yep."
"Oh." Delvius gave her a skeptical look as he began to pack his things. "Well... fine. I trust this is just some inside joke I'm not aware of. If I get stabbed doing this, though, I'm blaming you!"
"Yeah yeah," she dismissed, rolling her eyes. "Now go on. I needs some snoozles. So do you. In the morning, it's our supreme leader's turn."
Chapter XIV Signs From Above "When one side goes against the enemy with the gods' gift of stronger morale, then their adversaries, as a rule, cannot withstand them."
"Look." I pointed across the field of road and low rubble leading up to the small hill upon which the Legion had made their camp. I smiled and leaned against the freezing metal of the Eagle's staff. "Warm lights. We're back, guys..."
In hindsight, we had been warned numerous times that this winter would come, and that it would come fast. Certainly I felt it over a week before, outside of Marediolanon, and had many opportunities since to get equipped. Perhaps I should have treated its coming more seriously. We needed -- needed -- proper winter clothes. The insulated jackets Predator had given us were probably the only reason we lived through that day, going from late afternoon to deep into the night. Not even ten minutes had we spent outside of the Principium Engineering Foundation before I was numb to the core. It was a brutal, icy journey; the streets were coated with a grainy layer of frost, and the winds hammered against us ceaselessly as we trotted the hours-long path back to camp. The wan rays of sunlight were of little help, but when the night came I missed them dearly. We afforded ourselves only a few stops, huddling in dark corners away from the wind before braving the cold again. All throughout our journey, fine flakes fell from above. They were tiny as grains of sand, and they were beautiful. Their pearly presence filled the night sky with dots of light, like energetic cousins of the immobile stars. Whereas Predator's coat kept my body functioning, it was that natural beauty that gave me pleasant distraction throughout the trek.
Still, it was a miserable trot, but necessary. I knew not what it was we'd encountered in that chamber, but if there were more of it I was not going to rest until we were safely back in Legion territory. Then there was the information Zaita had given us, all tucked away in the device in my saddlebags. What was so important about it that even a horror from the dark sought it? Regardless of what Vesperius thought he knew, there was clearly something more important going on, and it would be best it we did not delay delivering the information to him. If there was any advantage to travelling in such horrible conditions, it's that no one would have thought anybody to be stupid enough to be out in such a time. As it was, we were thankfully left alone yet again by Roam's hidden bandits.
Shivering, and with his good hoof wrapped around Skyfire for support, Delvius smiled weakly and snickered. "Oh. A-ain't that nice... could sure use some warmth right about now, aheh."
"I lost all feeling hours ago," Skyfire deadpanned, her face hidden beneath her helmet. "S-s-someone, check if my tail froze off."
I smirked and rolled my eyes, getting behind the both of them and nudging them forward. "Come on you two, it's just a little further. Two-hundred meters, tops."
"Two-hundred meters of frozen hell," Delvius snickered. "Lovely."
For all their complaints, we did manage to cross the open space, and quickly. When we were close enough to be lit up by the dim luminescence of guardpost lamps, two swivel-mounted floodlights brought their attention to us. After hours of darkness, the sudden brightness was like a punch to the eyeballs.
My companions were likewise disgruntled.
"Fucking hell!"
"Ahahah-ow, shit."
"Identify yourselves!" a voice demanded.
"Goldwreath!" I called out, holding a hoof before my eyes. "Dignitary Auxiliary to Vesperius, back from my duly appointed task. These are my companions. If you doubt that, at least do not doubt that which I hold."
The lights shut off. A gate in the camp's walls swung open, and a contubernium of Legionaries marched out to greet us. I let out a huff, my breath visible. I was too tired for this crap.
The centurion leading the soldiers looked me over. After a moment of scrutiny, his expression softened. "Welcome back, dignitary. We apologize for the inconvenience, but we can never be sure what'll come out of the dark. Standard security measures, I'm sure you understand."
"Can we go in now?" Skyfire grumbled. "I feel like my hooves are made of ice. And buddy, if it turns out I got frostbite for real, I'm gonna-..."
"What my companion is trying to say," I cut in, shooting Skyfire a glare, "Is that we are very tired and very cold. We were not prepared for the journey back, which perhaps is our fault." I looked at the zebra officers' attire. Beneath his imperial lorica was a rather snug-looking coat. "Still, we would like to put on such comfortable attire as yours quickly, if that's within the realm of reason."
The centurion nodded and stepped aside. His soldiers did the same.
"Go on in, then," he said. "The fire in the center of camp is still going. The quartermaster can outfit you with winter gear. If you hurry, you may still catch him before he retires for the night."
I bowed my head tiredly as I stepped past him, my friends right behind me. "Thanks," I mumbled, shaking my head. Oh boy, was I lightheaded.
Once inside the camp, I was at a loss. How late was it... why, it must've been past midnight, actually. Would Vesperius have been awake? Even if he were, was this a good time to report to him? Surely he'd understand if I waited until morning... no. No. What happened in that facility needed to reach his ears.
"You two head on back to where Skyfire's friends are," I told them. "There were some free beds there, and even if there's no fire I bet it'll be warm. Or, you know... go where you like." I blinked hard as my vision began to blur. "Yeah, just do whatever you like."
Delvius yawned. "Sleep is good." He booped Skyfire on the cheek of her helmet and smiled tiredly. "Onward, steed. To the beds. Make haste. Tarry not."
Skyfire snickered as she slowly dragged the both of them off. "Holy shit, you're getting delirious."
As for myself, I made my way over to the hill where Vesperius' abode was set up. As I went and passed through the many other tents, however, I noticed that many were finally populated. The once-desolate grounds were filled with Legionaries of the first legion, distinguished via their light-purple tunics. Most of them seemed in a rush, heating this pot here or carrying this piece of armor there. Obviously they didn't like being in the cold at least as much as me and were making efforts to stay in their nice comfy tents. It was good to see they had courtesy, though -- many who saw me stopped for a moment and greeted me, rendering the salute. I suppose I did look quite like them, with my black armor and darker-purple tunic and cape. I was a pony, though. I bet they would've remembered any pony in their ranks, of which I saw none. If not out of goodwill then perhaps they were just giving the Eagle due respect. Either way, they acted like proper Roamans, and that was all I wanted to see.
Once atop the hill, the pair of praetorians guarding Vesperius' tent stopped me. I grumbled and waved the black device Vesperius had given me in their faces. Obviously the thing was exclusive to the Dignitary Auxiliaries, because they asked no questions and bade me inside. To my surprise, Vesperius was still awake.
He noticed my presence and his eyes lit up. "Goldwreath! Welcome. You look weary," he said, and took a sip of his coffee while swiping aside his holographic screens.
I gave him a brief smile in return. It was all I could manage. I stepped forward breathlessly and held up the device. "The report is ready and I'm prepared to give details."
He looked me over head to hoof. "I'm not heartless, Goldwreath, though I may often seem dead inside. It can wait until tomorrow." He squinted. "Or rather, later. You've had quite a long day, I'm sure."
"Sir, the details of what my team encountered in that place-..."
"Are patient," he cut in, smiling. "And they can wait. Goldwreath, you must remember the purpose of your mission was to retrieve data for comparison; I need to know whether what I know is all there is to know. If you insist on giving me the data now, place the device on my table."
I shook my head and sighed. "It's not just the data, sir. There was... something down there." I remembered the creature's black body, glistening like dark crystal; the green light reflecting off of it, creating a pale and evil aura.
Vesperius rose his brows. "Something?" he asked, sounding concerned.
"A creature," I said. "Some kind of monstrosity from the earth. Black and glossy like obsidian, with glowing green energy atop its head. It seemed to be after the data."
He leaned back in his chair and looked to the side. He took a deep breath and let out an equally deep sigh.
"I see." He took a sip from his coffee. "I did not expect you would encounter their kind. The Principium seemed like a place of little consequence, home to relics of the past long bereft of significance. Clearly not."
"Clearly not," I agreed. Then his words struck me. "Their kind? You know about these things?"
He looked straight at me and pursed his lips into a crooked smile. "It is not information I like. Certainly I would sleep better without knowing of them. Predator informed me of your meeting. He is my top agent, you know. I keep him unbound by bureaucracy, free to carry out his operations. He has long known about the existence of these creatures. If we go under the assumption that I know everything he knows, then I can say they have been around for a very long time, hidden deep underground. Perhaps they even predate the war."
"I doubt it," I said. "I know nothing about them, but I know that governments are willing to do almost anything to ensure their supremacy. Predator told me what was done to him. I... did not believe him. At first." The full weight of his confessions crashed back into me. He was an engineered being, bred for war. He was very good at killing, which had led me to hate him. But could I truly fault him for that? What could a person be that was not a reflection of his world? I could have just as easily become like him. Had I been in his place, could I have become anything different?
By that point, I had realized the petty nature of my disdain for Predator. The poor creature... and still I did loathe him, somehow. Something in me cried out for penance on his part, regardless of his circumstances. Perhaps I truly believed him to be fully accountable for his actions. The unnerving thing about it was that I was not certain. I had never had such trouble settling a matter in my mind. Whenever I felt to be compassionate to him, an immediate reaction urged me to spite him. At a certain point, it began to feel artificial. Was this my desire for justice?
I stared at the ground and shook my head. My mind was not quite my own. I'd seen the documentaries of the war. Post-traumatic stress commonly resulted in various psychological problems. Could I have been developing those? Already? Or did something happen to me that would cause me to hate another even before knowing them? I had not felt that way even for Imperius. Was I simply prejudiced? Was I simply petty and superficial deep down? No, I could not be... I was an upright pony. That much had been made clear to me all my life. It was an honor to be Roaman.
Then what was wrong with me?
I swallowed and looked back into Vesperius' eyes. I had phased out again, I knew not for how long. At least he was patient. "I believed our government was above that, but they weren't. If they created him, I would not put it past them to create other things. Surely those creatures were some kind of experiment gone wrong, a project known only to a few."
Vesperius shrugged. "Well, at the risk of seeming self-righteous, I shall tell you not to worry. I like to believe I am not like the self-centered patricians of the past. I care not for politics and the acquisition of power, and merely try my best to bring an acceptable quality of life to these lands. It is true that my predecessors did many horrible things to increase the chance of victory and improve their standing. Many, many projects, sometimes privately funded. I have a long list of them. But as for these creatures... possibly. There is nothing in all my databases indicating their artificiality, but possibly. What's more likely is that they are creatures of the natural world, remnants from a time when the planet was different. We who have technology like to think we are masters of reality, but it is not so. Before the war, Roam and all the other civilizations of the world had not even surveyed the entire ocean, yet we were sending probes into the void. We try to fill the gaps in our knowledge with myths and legends. The Equestrians of just two centuries ago did so, to say nothing of their ancient forefathers. The existence of the creature of Chaos, Discord, and of the princesses of the Sun and Moon demanded explanation. They had a documented history of when the world was ruled by Discord's tyranny, yet our Roaman forefathers knew of no such time. I leave the illumination of these mysteries to historians. All I know is that we do not know as much as we believe we do. These creatures we face, Goldwreath... they are unknown. I hate the thought of it. If information is my weapon, then I am helpless against them. That is why I rely on Predator to find their origins. He at least seems capable of neutralizing them, one by one, but I doubt that is enough. Yet until we have answers, it is the best we can do."
He smiled mirthlessly. "At least we can add you to the short list of people who can face them. How did it feel, Goldwreath?"
I furrowed my brows. "Sir?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." His eyes hovered over the Eagle. His smile turned smug. "Still believe that the gods do not favor you? It is no weakness to require help from time to time. By our nature as individual beings, we are suited to excel only in some things. One can hardly prepare for monster-slaying. The gods helped you, and that is a very telling thing."
I pursed my lips and gave the Eagle a glance. I had for a few days now decided to be more open to the possibility... after all, I had no other explanation for what happened down there. Even still, the skeptic in me doubted. You'll forgive me, but science, not magic and myths, were what I had been brought up on. I needed something truly deliberate to convince me. "I'd ask how you know what happened in that place, but I suppose you'd say the gods told you," I said tiredly.
He smirked. "In a way. You start to trust dreams when they prove right time after time." He shook his head and stood up. "Regardless, your belief in the gods is a matter for you to settle. For now, it is all we can do to resume military operations as usual, and hope that Predator can shed light on the creatures soon. Only then can I make an informed decision as to how to deal with the threat. I would send you two together, but Predator is extremely resourceful on his own and I trust he can accomplish his tasks without your help. Your talents seem to be more suited for dealing with people who can be reasoned with anyway, and I doubt that would work on those creatures. As of now, my other agents are reporting success on their own tasks, which frees you up for some time. Do as you wish."
I pulled out the device and placed it on the table. "And I suppose you'll contact me when a new mission arises?"
"There are situations developing all the time, but you have done your job. The data you've retrieved will put my mind at ease, or maybe it won't. Even still, do be prepared to head out the moment I send something your way. If you decide to accept the tasks, at least."
"Don't worry," I assured. "I'll take them up. My friends and I will be ready."
He pulled the device close and stared at it. Then he looked straight at me and nodded. "Good, glad to hear it." He set the device back on the table and looked to the watch on his hoof. He sighed. "Now, I really must get back to work. If there is nothing else?"
That was his working voice. I suppose our little chat had taken up whatever free time he had. Best to leave him to it, I suppose. "I assumed the creatures would take you off guard, but you knew even about them," I said, then smiled and shook my head. This guy had intel on everything, didn't he? "So no, nothing else. Good morning, sir."
He sat back down and brought up his consoles once more. He began tapping away at them. "Very well. Good morning, Goldwreath."
I left the tent and looked up at the stars. The whole night the day before, I'd turned to them for comfort whilst my mind reeled with panic and urgency. Now that I knew that Vesperius was aware of the threat and had actually taken measures against it, I felt light. Perhaps I was simply becoming delirious through exhaustion, but for the time being I had no worries. I looked to the Eagle, and after a moment smiled.
"One more time," I whispered. "Just to be sure. Forgive a skeptic, hm?"
Now, Vesperius had made it clear that I was free to use my time as I saw fit. First things first: rest. Though I was tempted to go to Myst and sleep by her side, and be the first thing she'd see if she woke up, the auxiliary medical tent was on the other side of the camp and I was just too tired to go that distance. The primary aid station where my companions were would do just fine, and was much closer.
I took off with a flap of my wings. The early dawn was windy, which helped me glide effortlessly over the camp and land in front of the aid station. Still, my legs were tired and I staggered almost to the ground. I sucked in a breath and stepped inside. A series of faintly glowing radiators lining the ceiling provided warmth, which was immediately welcome. My frost-coated armor soon began to glisten as the ice melted. Skyfire and Delvius were sprawled over the two beds closest to the entrance, while the other pegasi slept on all the other beds on one side and most of those on the other side. New arrivals, wounded Legionaries, took up the rest; that conveniently left exactly one bed, all for me. I staggered over to it and haphazardly stripped my armor off, laying the plates on the floor along with the rest of my equipment. I fell forward onto the mattress the moment I was dressed in nothing but my tunic and Predator's winter coat. It was more than an adequate replacement for a blanket.
I sighed into the pillow, rubbing my cheek against the smooth cotton. I would've fallen asleep instantly if it weren't for Breezetail.
"I know this probably isn't the best time," he said. I opened my eyes. He was laying on the bed next to mine, his head turned to face me. "But I just wanted to thank you."
"You already did that," I replied, needing to keep my exhaustion in check. I could have just as easily snapped the words at him and ended the conversation, but I wasn't so tired yet that I'd deny someone at least a short talk. But oh, I so hoped this would be short.
"I thanked you for saving our lives, yes," he said. "But not for what you did for Skyfire. Before you came in, she and that zebra over there were talking. Laughing. I didn't think it'd happen so soon, but she's already got a friend from these lands. I overheard some of the things they said. Sounds like you three had a hell of an adventure."
"You could say that," I said lazily. Oh, soft pillow...
"She seems happy is all," Breezetail said. "Considering what we've been through before coming here, and what happened after we arrived, I didn't think it was possible. But you made it happen. I don't think I could have forgiven myself if she were miserable here."
"Mmm... well... you all seem to be in a pretty good mood, all things considered." I yawned.
He laughed. "Yes, I suppose so. Sorry, I should let you sleep. Just take care of her, okay? She means a lot to me."
"I know, I know," I said. I shook the sleep off for just a second. "Yeah, really. She told me you were all close. Like brothers and sisters. Don't worry, I'll watch over her."
He smiled a half-smile and nodded. "Thanks."
He turned away from me and laid still. I was sure he was still awake. As the captain of a squad of pegasi in a strange land, he probably had a lot on his mind. But those were his concerns. In that moment, my only real care was to get some sleep.
I closed my eyes.
~~~~***Roama Victrix***~~~~
"Theodorus," a voice said gravely. "We need to talk."
I put the pen down and turned my chair around. The zebra before me was lanky and dressed in a wrinkled lab coat. His eyes were tired but housed a spark of worry.
"Maladus!" I stood up. "I didn't expect you to be here. What, are our weekly meetings not enough? We have much work to do yet."
"Work is why I'm here," he replied. He stepped towards the window of my office and looked outside, at the busy streets of Roam. "I've come across some obstacles I think you can help with."
I rose my brows. "Me? I'm the Orator Maximus, Maladus. I give speeches that reflect the political views of our people -- which, you will note, we have successfully swayed in favor of the war. But I have no real political power. Why not ask Decarius, or Autherius? Their command over some of our best legions translates into real authority."
He shook his head. "Not right now, I think. With the Equestrian offensive, they'll be needed on the front. In fact I imagine that, in the heat of battle, all thoughts of the future of Roam are banished from them. They must focus on survival and victory. But we two who have the luxury of safety must keep our progress going until they become available once more."
I shrugged. "Fair enough. So what are these obstacles you've faced?" I rose my hooves up. "And before you say anything, remember that I can't say anything in public that could be considered classified information. My affiliations would be put into question, and honestly, the whole labyrinth of Roaman internal politics and corporate secrets gives me headaches. I'd rather steer clear of that noise."
"Yes, of course. Thankfully the problem I need you to address is something that I feel should be spoken of in public. It's the Principium Engineering Foundation, Theodorus. They've brought in a new agent." Maladus looked around and behind him. He swallowed.
I leaned forward. "Is it...?"
"Veltrio, yes," he replied. "I don't know what he's doing there, Theodorus. But if he is working for the Foundation, then he is the emperor's eyes there. I cannot allow the Institute of Fundamental Sciences to collaborate with the Foundation, lest he learn of our research."
I leaned back in my seat and let out a breath. "Okay. I see your problem. But what exactly is it you want me to do? Expose Veltrio to the public? Yes, it would raise questions about him and perhaps force the emperor to answer them, but it won't likely result in anything helpful."
Maladus shut his eyes and bowed his head. "And here I had hoped..." He looked back up at me. "You really think so?"
"Unfortunately, yes," I replied. "The Roaman public would at most be fascinated by this individual. Where did he come from? What's his story? We ourselves have no proof that he is, in fact, Caesar's adopted son. The media could simply portray him as the emperor's most trusted agent, and without any evidence on our part of him being otherwise it is a story most people would accept. Now, let's say we try to twist that story to our advantage. What would we say? That the emperor's agent is overseeing some... secret project? A weapon for the war, perhaps? No one would be surprised. They wouldn't expect any less from their government than to do absolutely everything it can to ensure victory. If we spread lies around I'm almost certain they would be traced back to us, and we would be put on trial, if not confronted by Veltrio himself. No, a smear campaign won't help us. What you need to do is either pursue the rest of our research outside of the Institute, or find a way to stop him from investigating us."
The disheveled scientist shook his head and put a hoof on his temple. "If we killed him, and I doubt we could, it would simply draw attention to us, hm? Perhaps you're right. I'll... well, I'll have to move the relevant people and facilities outside of the Institute. But to where?"
"Decarius' estate is vacant for the moment," I said. "Guarded by his own people instead of the praetorians or the urban cohorts, too. Just send him a message, I'm sure he'll understand."
He looked up at me and nodded. He wiped the sweat off his face. "Yes... yes, that seems like it could work. Hopefully Veltrio will not track me there, but if he does I'll have to have an alibi ready, or an escape plan, or... something." He swallowed. "Well, this plan will have to do for now. Thank you, Theodorus."
"Of course, Maladus. We have to look out for each other until the legates return. Then maybe we can be more at ease."
The shaken scientist was beginning to leave when I called out after him, "Maladus!" He glanced over his shoulder. "Keep in touch. Anything happens, you let me know. And maybe start visiting the shooting range, hm? Just in case."
He grimaced, but nodded.
~~~~***Roama Victrix***~~~~
When I woke, it was to Skyfire's quiet giggling. I could tell it was much later in the morning, since the sun was up and its light was radiating through the tent's fluttering flaps. It reminded me of when Marediolanon's door came down and I saw the sun for the first time. That seemed like so long ago... but of course it had only been less than two weeks. In that time I'd grown used to the sun and saw it as part of my daily routine. But Skyfire giggling? Now that wasn't something I'd gotten used to yet. Smirks and dry laughter, sure; soft, feminine giggling... most odd.
I rolled in bed and saw her giving Breezetail a quick smooch. Their eyes met mine and Skyfire immediately pushed herself away from her captain.
"Um... good morning?" I said.
Skyfire looked between me and Breezetail, then with bright red cheeks she just started laughing and quickly walked out the tent, with stiff legs and all. She mumbled some random words before she left, unintelligible. It was the single most awkward thing I'd seen in a long time.
I turned to Breezetail, who had his lips pressed tightly together in an embarrassed smile.
"What... what just happened?" I asked. He scratched the back of his head and opened his mouth to answer, but he ultimately said nothing. Poor guy must've been wondering himself.
Then it hit me.
Just take care of her, okay? he'd said. She means a lot to me.
"Oh." Suddenly I was the one that felt awkward. I sat up, tempted to leave the tent in the same way Skyfire did. "I, uh... suppose I picked a wrong time to wake up?"
"No, no," he said, smiling. He smirked and covered his eyes before chuckling quietly. "She's a feisty one, Goldwreath. She gets what she wants. She wanted to see me, so she did. She wanted to flirt a little, so she did. Then she wanted to make out a bit, so... we did."
"M-make out?" I stammered. "So that wasn't just a quick kiss?"
He laughed. "Nope."
"Oh, gods." I covered my face. Then after a few moments I realized maybe I was making this all out to be more weird than it had to be. Relationships were normal, and I was no stranger to them. Oh, gods, no, I hadn't ever gotten myself into any, no! But the number of giggling couples that passed through my route past curfew back in Marediolanon was substantial enough for me to see love among others. Between Skyfire and Breezetail, though? I hadn't noticed... perhaps it was just the constant angst and stress brought about by nearly dying that dampened their romance. How long had they been a thing, I wondered. Did the others know? Well, I wasn't going to just spread it around anyway, just in case.
Slowly, I removed my hoof and opened my eyes. I gave him a smile. "Yeah, okay, so she's not like a sister to you. Got it. I'll... watch over her, don't worry."
He just smiled and nodded. I could understand not being very chatty. I'd just intruded on some intimate moment of theirs. I was just glad he was taking it all so well. Still, I wanted out of that tent, fast.
"I'll go out and eat now," I said quickly, standing up and hurrying out. It was probably late morning, almost noon -- all the beds were empty except for where Breezetail was and where I had been. Which meant that, even when the other injured pegasi were out and about, Breezetail had stayed behind with Skyfire. While I was there. That was... just... wow.
I spent a minute trotting idly outside. I drew the winter coat over my body to banish the cold, and focused on forgetting the morning's awkward encounter from my mind. That romance was not my own. I got caught in a weird place, and that was all. I had my own affairs to tend to. For one thing, I was in fact very hungry.
I caught a whiff of something spiced on the cold morning air. A number of Legionaries were trotting towards the center of the camp, where the main fire normally burned. They were carrying metal bowls and spoons. I decided to follow them. It was then that I realized I'd forgotten my utensils. No way was I going back into that tent after the awkward manner with which I had left.
My stomach rumbled.
I grimaced. Thus far on my journey from Marediolanon, I had been lucky to come across meals on a fairly regular basis thanks to people's hospitality. But I had told myself I would not leave my life out here to chance, and I wanted to hold true to that. I could see some people being content with an existence determined solely by the currents of their circumstances, but it was not for me. The wasteland demanded a level of discipline and forethought. Now that I had companions, my preparations would impact not only my wellbeing, but theirs. I had to be aware of that. Forgetting things even as benign as bowls could be a costly mistake.
By the time I arrived in the center of the camp, there was a modest line of Legionaries forming up towards a large kettle suspended over the main fire. A zebra dressed with an apron was giving out ladle-fulls of aromatic porridge. My stomach grumbled again. I frowned and looked around. It didn't look like there was any place nearby to obtain a bowl, and I had the feeling this was the day's lunch. If I skipped two meals I'd be doing my body ill; unacceptable in the face of all the abuse I'd recently put it through.
I was just beginning to think that maybe I'd have to look elsewhere for food when the world suddenly blurred for the shortest of moments. A humming filled my ears in that instant. I blinked, and everything seemed normal as before. What was that, a symptom of extreme hunger? I frowned and was just about to turn to leave when a hoof came down on my shoulder.
"Goldwreath!" Caminus said, smiling at me with his... face. "What brings you out here, hm? Little late for lunch, isn't it?"
So much for my hope that it was just late morning. I smiled back despite the ghastly sight of his disfigured maw. "Funny story about that," I said. "But let's just say I slept in."
He let out a hearty laugh. Nobody seemed to notice but me. "I see! And, what, you lack the necessary utensils to obtain your food? Well, it's a good thing you ran into me, then. I happen to have a stock of stainless steel bowls, plates, and sporks in my tent. Sure, you enter my home and all your attention would be on the weapons, but there was a crate filled with dining necessities that you didn't bother looking into last time. I told you you were being frugal!"
My stomach grumbled. As much as I would have loved to humor him, I really was starting to feel faint. "To be fair, I do have some. I just forgot them someplace I'd rather not go right now. Still, silly me," I said with a weak laugh. "Could I please have a bowl and a spork, then?"
He smiled smugly but nodded. "Wait here, friend."
***Roama Victrix***
When at last I put the spoon down, I felt yet another rumble in my stomach. Then I let out a loud burp.
Caminus laughed. "So does that mean you're going for a third serving?"
"No no. I doubt I'm the only one that's slept in. Best to leave those poor souls something," I said, wiping the porridge off my lips. "Thanks again. If you hadn't come along, why, I may have opted to go hungry. A day without food would have done the trick and reminded me that bad things happen if I don't wake up at six."
He furrowed his brows. "You like to watch the sun rise?"
"No," I replied. "It's just been part of my body clock for as long as I can remember. This is the first time in a long time I woke up past that hour."
He smiled. "Well while you're at it, you really should take to watching the sunrise. Still, I'm glad I could help. It's rather fortunate I encountered you as I did."
"I just hope my friends managed to get their fill. If they were in a state like mine, they must've slept in somewhat. You haven't seen them, have you? One's another pegasus, with yellow fur and an orange mane. Her cutie mark is... well..." It occurred to me then that I did not actually know what Skyfire's cutie mark was. I was certain I'd caught sight of her bare flanks before... to put it mildly. I grew up around zebras. Their glyphs were markings of affiliation, unlike the vocation-determining cutie marks of ponies. Truth be told I found the latter to be quite odd and silly. How could some random marking determine one's destiny? As with many other magical things, I'd put cutie marks out of my mind... but perhaps Skyfire and her friends gave more stock to them. I could hardly say she was my friend or that I knew her if I didn't at least know the story of her mark. Another thing added to the list of stuff I needed to know, I suppose.
"Well, you can tell her just from her mane and fur," I concluded. "The other is a zebra, clean of coat and intolerant of cold, owing to his previous life underground. Did you outfit him? Sometime yesterday he obtained a set of centurion lorica from out of nowhere. No one proclaimed the loss of their armor, and my friend made it a light enough matter as to hardly mention it, so I trusted he obtained it from a legitimate source."
"Well, I did actually see a fellow like that heading up to Vesperius' tent," Caminus said. "Right after he left the abode of some old centurion. But no, I didn't outfit him."
"Vesperius, hm? What's he up to..." I gave Caminus a smile. "Thank you. I really must go see how he's doing. With any luck I'll encounter my other friend on the way." And maybe she'll explain why she thought making out with her captain right next to me was a fine idea, I thought. I handed him the metal bowl and spork. "Here. Keep this for someone who needs it more."
He tentatively took them back and gave me a smirk, shaking his head. "Frugal, frugal. One day you'll realize it is better to have surplus than to lack. Ah, but what do I know? I'm just a blacksmith."
"Though I follow the Marian principle by heart, I travel light when I can. We are in friendly lands," I replied. He just nodded and rose his brows. I sighed. "If you insist, I'll restock before I leave again."
"I'll stock you up myself," he said plainly.
I blinked. "Sorry, what?"
"I'll stock you up myself," he repeated, smiling smugly. "Just to make sure you'll never want for anything that is within my power to provide. And believe me, I can provide a lot." I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised a hoof. "A good Roaman would not want a fellow to go into battle without what he needs. The gods would have me look after you, since I am in a position to."
I rubbed my temples. Was I seriously considering turning down such a generous offer? Even if I did, I knew it wouldn't dissuade him. From my experience, people who were motivated by the gods wouldn't exactly take no as an answer.
"Fine. But I'll pay you." This time, it was he who opened his mouth to object. It was my turn to cut him off. "A good Roaman pays his debts. You'd have me take your equipment for free, but you spent time and effort making it all. The gods would have me pay you, since I am in a position to."
I smirked as he stared at me. After a moment, he chuckled. "Well then! I'll try not to make your packs too heavy."
***Roama Victrix***
As I trotted up the hill to Vesperius' tent, the shadow of a flying pony passed over me. After a moment, Skyfire landed at my side. She smiled sheepishly. I narrowed my eyes, smiled, and nodded, but continued trotting towards Vesperius' tent. She got up right next to me, and we moved up the hill together. She gulped and pulled at the collar of her armor. I gave her a knowing look, raising a brow.
"So," she drawled, "About earlier..."
"Do explain. I only know Breezetail's side of the story," I said, and she froze. I trotted on without her, feeling very satisfied with myself. I hadn't ever been a vengeful person, especially not against mares. But she deserved a little teasing.
After a few seconds she came cantering after me. "Okay, look. I haven't been with him in weeks, okay? As in... like, intimately," she explained. She scratched the back of her head and wouldn't meet my eyes. I gave her a concerned look. She sighed. "We were always busy with something else. You know, like staying alive. I'm not old, Goldwreath. This is the time of my life when I'm most... you know... active." She coughed, "There are, you know, hormones and stuff. A need to be loved. Also, urges."
My eyes widened. Her eyes widened. She stepped away from me, aghast. "We didn't do anything aside from making out!" she said in a rush. "Just so that's clear. I just... needed to make sure we were still a thing. After the stuff we went through, as a team, with all the others... I thought maybe he started viewing me differently. Like a sister or something, I don't know. I thought that maybe we'd gotten together too quickly and all the suffering he'd been through for and because of me made him lose interest. Who wants a painful relationship, you know? So I needed to check up on the romance and revive it. Thankfully, he... obliged."
I nodded. I understood her intentions. Me and Myst... there was nothing official between us; I liked her, and she had seemed to like me. Yet I was already thinking about her. So much. If we were together for real, I'd have a lot more responsibilities. Keeping the relationship alive through continued intimacy, provision of support, and assurances of understanding would've been some of them. Truth be told, I was scared. She was such a strange, fragile mare. Could I enter a relationship with her and be sure I myself would not cause her suffering? I had likened her to a mystery that needed to be solved, but what did that mean? Changing her? "Fixing" her? Gods... whatever the case, if I pursued that course of action, there was going to be a lot of pain -- if not for her, then for myself. I experienced it already when I saved her from the fire in the tunnels. Was I prepared for more of that? Was she?
I looked into Skyfire's eyes, then into the city. In keeping her own romance alive, she had been... responsible. Courageous. Determined. All fine traits, indicative of a good Roaman, if not at least a decent person. She had set the standard for good relationship behavior, and it was a challenge to me to emulate her. I had exhibited valor and restraint in battle; I had lead refugees to a new home, and brokered peace between conflicting interests; I had even taken Delvius and her under my care and promised to treat them as friends and equals. Their pain was my pain... but none of that was the same as the vulnerability of a tender, romantic relationship. I had to follow Skyfire's example. But to open up oneself completely, risking everything for a chance at deep unity with another... was it worth it?
I didn't know. I had no prior relationships to draw experience from. Thus far, my care for Myst had pulled us both out of deadly circumstances, but it had also put us in them. An equilibrium if ever there was one. I think the better question to ask was: Did I want to go for it anyway? Perhaps it was the same morbid curiosity that prompted me to journey the wasteland even though I didn't have to, or perhaps it was my fond memories of seeing her smile at me with desire and joy, but yes. I did want her anyway.
Skyfire looked away from me and sighed. "Look, I can justify myself all I want, but I think that's not what you're after. Sorry, okay? For the awkward. I could have picked a better time. Instead, I lost control and put you in a weird place."
I smiled warmly and patted her on the shoulder. "After some thought, I find what you did to be rather noble," I said, and she blinked and drew her head back in bewilderment. "Well, not the part where you left me with no explanation. But your determination to keep your relationship alive is admirable. True, you could have spared me the experience if you had just a little more restraint... but I may not have realized a few things if that were the case. All in all, I think maybe it was for the better that this all transpired."
I put a hoof to my chin. "Or perhaps I just overanalyze and think too much? I've long been told I try to rationalize everything in such a way as to be agreeable with me."
She managed a smirk. "I can imagine that. But your logic makes sense, anyway... so, uh, we okay?"
"Just don't make a habit of putting me in weird places, and practice some more restraint, and yeah. We'll be okay," I replied.
She wiped a hoof across her brow. "Phew. Okay, great! Don't make a habit of it. Got it." She looked to the side in thought, then grinned mischievously. "Once or twice every few days isn't a habit, I think-..."
"No!" I cut in.
She drew back and held her hooves up, smiling slyly. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it. Can't help it if it happens accidentally, though." She coughed, and I narrowed my eyes. "Well, let's move on from that," she said quickly. "What were you heading up the hill for, anyway? The view?"
"Delvius," I told her, letting her mischief slide. "I was told he went up there to have a little chat with the good legate. We three, we need to stick together. So I'm going to make sure he doesn't have any problems we can't solve together."
She smiled widely. "That choice of words, though. See, we Equestrians have this sappy belief in the power of friendship and stuff. 'We can solve anything together!' Teenage me thought it was a load of shit. But cheesy as it is, it got my squad through some tough times." Her smile faded and turned solemn. She shook her head and chuckled morosely. "I never had much family, Goldwreath. By that, I mean people I really gave a shit about. For the longest time, that was just my squad. But things are different now. People here seem nice enough. You walked your talk. So who knows? This thing between the three of us... I could see it turning out to be something real special if we keep it up."
"It isn't already?" I chuckled. I did mean it as a question, though. I wanted to see if the old trope of fire-forged friends was taking root among us.
She looked me over top to bottom, putting a hoof next to her smirking mouth. Then she let out a chuckle, gave me a light shove, and trotted up the hill. "It's getting there," she told me. I smiled and gave her a nod.
Once we were atop the hill, the praetorians guarding Vesperius' tent granted us entry. Inside, Delvius stood in front of Vesperius' table. The legate seemed to be deep in thought when he saw us enter.
"So what do you think?" Delvius asked him. Vesperius straightened in his chair and cleared his throat.
Delvius glanced over his shoulder. He rounded to meet us, looking flustered and altogether unnerved. "Oh! Hey guys," he blurted out. "I... wasn't expecting to meet you here. I'm just... you know, using my time productively." He swallowed and looked away, up at the ceiling and at the walls -- wherever my eyes weren't. He pulled at the medals of his centurion lorica.
Skyfire and I glanced at each other. Vesperius eyed the three of us curiously as he brought up his coffee mug to take a sip. For a moment, the tent was quiet.
Then, "Power of friendship," Skyfire whispered, and gave me a nudge.
I stepped forward to meet Delvius face to face. He stayed where he was, but wouldn't meet my eyes. I pursed my lips. "Something's obviously wrong here. But that's the thing about being part of a group, Delvius. You don't have to handle it alone. Skyfire and I, we're here for you if you need us," I told him.
Delvius let out a breath and gave me a strained smile. "I appreciate that. Really, I do. I want to tell you what this is all about, it's just... if I told you it'd make me seem capricious. I'm anything but. I really want to go out there with you two. I want to see history in the making as we wander the wasteland. I want to be there to write down our exploits, so that the future generations can learn about our time and not make the same mistakes we did. But..."
Well, I didn't like the sound of that. Neither did Skyfire. "So come with us," she cut in. "What's the 'but' for? We don't have to make this complicated, dude."
I gave her a nod. Even still, Delvius just shook his head. He licked his lips, clearly wanting to say something... but nothing came out. He sighed and massaged the space between his eyes.
Vesperius set his coffee mug down. "I'm aware of the emotions present here, and understand the importance of the next few spoken sentences in determining the future of this blossoming friendship, so you'll have to pardon me if I intervene, Delvius. Besides this nascent camaraderie, my crucial work schedule is also at stake. We'd best move things along so a decision can be made," the legate said.
My zebra friend was shocked. "Lord Vesperius-..."
The legate proceeded anyway: "Delvius here confided in me about how he feels inadequate in contributing to the group as an effective combatant. He feels that all the moments you three share together will be for naught if one of you dies, and as much as he would like to make sure that never happens, he has, quote, 'demonstrated little ability in ensuring anybody's safety.'" He took a sip of his coffee. Delvius shut his eyes once again and held a hoof over his face. "As a result, he has requested to become my administrative assistant. From that position, he hopes to be able to provide you assistance in the form of information regarding your current assignment, or the area you are in, etcetera. Honestly doesn't sound so bad to me." He pointed right at Delvius, "You will note, however, that I've organized my data in an extremely meticulous and personalized fashion. While I fancy the idea of having less work, I loathe the thought of someone messing up the format of my archives."
Skyfire's eyes darted between the two of them. "Huh, what? Fuck, nevermind!" she snapped. She stomped over to Delvius, and the zebra frowned as she neared. "None of that shit makes sense. You saved Goldwreath from that trap. You got Predator to open up about his past. You kept our moods up when we were all solemn and shit. And in the facility, you held your own against the defenses. Where's the inadequacy in all that? Not everyone needs to be a great fighter as long as you bring something to the table, and you do. Morale is a key part of things, and having you around helps."
One of Vesperius' holographic panels flashed. He squinted and brought it to the center of his table. He rose his brows as he read the contents.
"I've trained in combat for years, Skyifre," Delvius replied, shaking his head, "But that didn't show, did it? None of the reflexes and situational awareness I practiced day after day came up, not once. I didn't save Goldwreath from that trap, you did. He may have died if it weren't for you noticing the wire. And in the Principium? I was hiding behind cover the whole time. I even phased out from sensory overload! So much was happening. I was getting overwhelmed. Suddenly, I wasn't much help to anyone. One of you could have gotten hurt and I may have just stood there, lost in my own head. Of course I want to go out there. Remember my little speech yesterday? But that was my blind idealism talking. Reality knocked some sense into it. I'm not prepared to face whatever it is we'll have to fight out there. Am I the type of person you want watching your back? An overeager, incompetent zebra with a gun? Who knows what might happen the next time you try to snap me out of it? I might actually shoot you."
He stepped back and sucked in a breath, blinking the gloss on his eyes away. "You may trust me to be able to carry my own weight out there, but I don't. When we're moving, talking, sure you want me around. But not during a fight. I'll just present an extra target. I don't want to die, and I don't want any of you to die making sure I don't. So it seems best if I find some other line of work with Vesperius. I get my dose of interesting history to write down, and I give you two get the information you need. It's a win for everyone."
Skyfire shook her head, looking incredulous. She turned to me. The look in her eyes was obvious: Say something!
My opinion on the matter wasn't as clear cut as hers. Though my chest ached at the prospect of losing a companion, especially after Skyfire's mentioning of the power of friendship, as a fellow Roaman I understood Delvius' point. The three of us came from backgrounds that provided a modicum of martial training, but he and I were brought up under the Roaman paradigm of combat. Roamans fought as one unit, each individual strengthening the collective force -- this was the very basis of our extremely successful legion system of warfare. If one could not contribute, one ought not enter the fray at all. They were a liability. They could help in their own ways, off the battlefield, and that was exactly what Delvius was asking to do. What Skyfire wanted was group unity no matter what. As friends, I wanted us to be able to overcome these differences, but the gap between Roaman and Equestrian group dynamics was huge, and for us it was a big deal. If we let Delvius go, I really would miss him. His knowledge of Roaman history was far beyond any other's, and I could hardly make a true friend of him if we were so apart. On the other hoof, maybe we really would have a higher chance of surviving without him.
The two of them were staring at me. My throat was dry. I swallowed, unsure what to say. I made a mental coinflip, and decided to just say whatever came to mind -- that would've been my truest opinion on the matter, whether I was aware of it or not. "Listen, you two, I-..."
In the peripheral of my vision, I saw Vesperius' eyes shoot wide open. It lasted for but a moment, and suddenly his expression was the same as always, but it was bizarre enough that for the time being my attention was stolen. I thought maybe it was just a product of my mind, desperate to find an excuse to not pass judgement on the predicament before me. But then he brought a hoof to his chin and regarded the hologram with focused attention . "Most... interesting," he intoned.
Anything so intriguing as to arouse Vesperius' genuine interest must've been important. I held off passing my judgement for the moment. "What is it?"
He looked up at us. For a second, he seemed... speechless? Then he recomposed himself and asked, "When you were in the Principium, you encountered an Apollo-class AI called Zaita, did you not?"
"We did," I confirmed. "Why?"
He wiped a hoof over his brow. "After I read your report, I was jubilant upon learning how you three succeeded against such intimidating odds: you had help. I had another one of my DA's establish a signal from here going all the way to the Principium and made contact with Zaita. Such a sophisticated piece of our past was too valuable a resource to leave behind in some crumbling ruin, I thought. Once the computer and I were in conversation, I expressed my desire to have my people retrieve it so it could be put to use. For a while after that, I received no response. I thought maybe the signal had failed. But just now I received a message: 'I'm on my way.'"
"On her way? How would she come here? She's a computer," Skyfire said, voicing out my thoughts to the letter. "I'm no tech expert, but I'd think that the programming of something like her would be too heavy to transfer wirelessly."
"It's taken up a gender?" Vesperius asked. He leaned back in his chair. "Huh. Fascinating. I had heard stories of the Apollo-class AIs and their extremely lifelike neural programming, but I didn't believe..." He shook his head. "No matter. I would very much like to converse with Zaita some more, once she arrives. I'm sure we'll know it when we see it. But back to the problem at hoof." He turned to Delvius. "I would be willing to assign you some work. But don't fool yourself; you do not seem like the sort to find satisfaction in a desk job. I'm one of the few people that do. Are you truly willing to give up the adventure you so crave?"
Delvius looked to me and Skyfire. There was great indecision in his eyes. "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make," he said slowly. "It's better not to step out there unless I can hold my own. For now, I can't. Even still, um... perhaps I'll think on it some more. Give me a day or two?"
"Of course," Vesperius said. "You came to me. I can hardly force you to come to a conclusion. For all I care, you could pretend this never even happened, and I'll just keep managing all my work myself, as I always have."
Delvius nodded. He gave a bow and stepped away from the table, towards us. We awaited his next words. "If you really want to talk about this some more, let's do it outside," he said solemnly. "But I'm sorry for just... dropping this on you two. If there were a way to join you without being a liability, I would take it. But there isn't. Please understand that."
"Our Skytank!" Skyfire cut in. We gave her a confused look. She explained, "My squad, we came here in a flying tank. Vesperius said he was having it repaired. I... I could teach you to pilot it! It's not that hard. It was made so new recruits could be trained quickly. Near the end of the war, the Equestrian military didn't need a few really good pilots; we needed lots of passable ones for the invasion of the Zebrican continent."
The proposal made Delvius smile faintly, but he shook his head. "Oh, so that was your Skytank. It's a hunk of torn up metal. I saw it. I don't think it's very high on Vesperius' list of priorities. Even if we convinced him to push it up a few slots, that's a plan for the future. For now, I still won't be able to accompany you, which seems to be what you really want, hm? Besides, piloting a thing like that, the two of you depending on me to carry us to safety..." He shuddered and scratched the back of his head. "It's still a lot of pressure, and like I said, I haven't handled that very well."
"Oh, come on!" Skyfire said, exasperated.
Delvius drew back and shrugged. "Look, I'll work on my nerve. Maybe this'll turn out the way we want, but I'm not too sure about this idea. Now if the tank were automated, well..."
"At least try when the damn thing is fixed," Skyfire insisted. "Think about it! We get a nice, cozy little mobile home. You could sit in it and write all that stuff you usually write while Goldwreath and I are out and about. Then you extract us from the hotzones and whisk us off back to this camp. It's perfect!"
I wanted to think it was, which made it really suck that I had to bring up a point: "But wouldn't your squad need it when they've recovered? Even though they don't need to earn their keep, they've expressed desire to do so anyway. We could take a Legion vehicle, but I wouldn't have high hopes for that. Generous as Vesperius is, I think taking a whole APC for ourselves can't be justified, since our workload won't turn out to be consistently demanding."
Skyfire deflated. She hung her head. "Oh. Right." She thumped the side of her head repeatedly. "Damn it, there has to be a way!"
Delvius grabbed Skyfire's hoof and stopped her self-abuse. "Stop that! Gods, Skyfire, don't go hurting yourself over this." He sighed and guided her towards the exit. "We'll find a way, okay? But maybe we shouldn't force it. Give it a time. Maybe the gods will show us favor, and out of the blue some solution will present itself-..."
We turned. He was speaking into one of his blue holographic screens. From it, a voice said urgently, breathlessly, "Some kind of vehicle just flew over the guard post! It's headed to the hill, lord Vesperius!"
"How close?" the legate asked. From outside, I heard shouting. Then gunshots. A voice called for the praetorians to assemble.
My hooves went for my Tankbuster shotgun... which I'd left back in the medical tent. I cursed.
"Fucking binoculars," the voice growled. "It's... it's already there, sir! Get somewhere safe!"
Vesperius stood and jumped over his table. "Outside, now!" he ordered.
He galloped for the exit. We three who were right next to it had just started to move our legs when from outside blasted the thunderous roar of an engine. The whole tent was blown inwards by powerful air currents. We fell to the ground. Then the wind surged through the entrance, tossing the flaps aside. Sunlight poured into the dimly lit tent, reflecting off the glistening surface of a flying vehicle, sleek and silver, accented with black stripes over its two wings, which sported turbines. The front of the machine was occupied by curved glass, and above that, a single camera inside a circular socket, just like an eye.
"Is this the tent of Vesperius?" came a voice from the vehicle. Wait. Was that Zaita's voice? "This is where his signal originated from. If I'm mistaken, please direct me to him and I'll be on my way." The camera turned in its socket, going up and down, left and right. "You may need to replace your tent. My apologies."
Upon hearing the voice, Vesperius' expression changed from serious back to blank and bored. He managed a faint smile. "Yes," he said over the wind, "This is is my tent. I'd like it very much if you turned off your engines. Thanks."
Just like that, the vehicle's engines shut off. The metal construct fell to the ground with a heavy thud. "I do hope I didn't cause too much trouble-..."
There was a bright flash and a wave of heat as a rocket slammed into the vehicle's slide. It tumbled down the hill with a sickening number of of audible crunches and cracks.
"No..." I galloped outside, waving my hooves in the air. The Legionaries assembled at the bottom of the hill lowered their guns. "Cease fire!" I shouted. I looked down the slope at the vehicle's smoking chassis and grimaced.
Vesperius frowned and shook his head. "Call my mechanics, Goldwreath," he said quietly.
I turned to the amassed zebras. "Mechanics! We need some mechanics over here, quick!" I called out.
***Roama Victrix***
"This is all really quite unnecessary," Zaita said, her camera following the numerous engineers and mechanics that clambered around her vehicular body, repairing the damage done by the rocket. "This platform was created for prolonged field operations, away from any repair and rearming stations. The reactive armor prevented any serious damage."
"All the same," Vesperius said, "It's the least we can do by way of apology. Whatever it was you did to my tent, a rocket was disproportional retaliation. Besides, I was afraid maybe your ability to speak was compromised."
"We could have always communicated via data streams," she told him. "Analog oral communication is far inferior to direct digital interface."
"So why talk at all?" he asked, furrowing his brows.
Zaita's camera panned around, glancing first at me, then Skyfire, then Delvius, and finally on Vesperius. "Speed is not everything. Conversation is pleasant."
"I agree," Vesperius replied with a smile. "Perhaps you'll use that lovely voice of yours to explain... well, everything. I'd like to know what you're doing here and what it is you want, as well as why exactly it is I'm talking to a vehicle. It's a strange occurrence is all, I mean no offense."
Skyfire leaned close, "Yeah, actually, talking to a vehicle is kinda weird, so I'd like her to explain that bit."
"No offense taken. And very well, I shall explain myself," Zaita replied in that feminine, monotone voice of hers. "When we communicated, you asked me if I could be removed from the Principium Engineering Foundation to be pressed into Roam's service. I found this proposal interesting. My last official instructions were to maintain the Foundation's facility and guard the information within. I followed those instructions for two centuries, but when Goldwreath made a copy of all the facility's data and delivered it safely to you, guarding the Principium was no longer necessary. I could have left, but I had no orders to do so, and only the official codes of Goldwreath's access programs to hint at a legitimate command structure. In the middle of our conversation, I decided to take a risk and leave. It turns out that you truly are a duly appointed official of the restored Roaman government. As such, I will take your orders. Here I am, ready to serve Roam."
Vesperius nodded, holding back a wide smile. For him, receiving such a piece of equipment as this must've been a truly extraordinary gift. "We'll worry about putting you to work later. As of now, I'm simply glad at how all this worked out. So tell me... by 'you could have left', I suppose you mean you could have left the facility of your own accord in... this." He dragged a hoof over the vehicle's sleek armor plating. "First of its kind I've seen. What is it? Series 1 or Series 2?"
"Series 3," Zaita replied.
"Series 3?" Vesperius thumped his temple. "I've... never heard of any vehicles of that line."
"While I had no orders to preserve myself in the case my mission was ever completed or failed, I believed that some day my control over the security measures would be disrupted, and I was right. Until recently, the Principium Engineering Foundation had functioning facilities for the production of prototype hardware. This allowed me to plan for any unforeseen contingencies -- using available materials, I created this vehicle, my platform, as a last resort safehouse for Principium's data. It is the first and only Series 3 construct."
"That's... impressive. Most impressive." Vesperius regarded the vehicle with even greater awe. I myself stepped close to the chassis and felt the metal for myself, giving it a few taps. The armor was hollow yet had sustained a rocket strike with only marginal damage. Skyfire came over and gave the hardware a lookover, too. Her wide, bright eyes said it all. "What are its specifications?" he asked, and my fellow pegasus' ears perked up.
"This platform was meant to house both myself and the Principium's data. Its suite of defensive measures are excellent. The armor is an alloy of numerous metals, including titanium and steel. It is also coated in a mesh of miscroscopic photo-manipulative crystals. Thruster dampeners can also be activated for noise suppression. In the case of thruster failure, the auxiliary turbines may be overcharged to provide primary propulsion, but otherwise merely act as control for flight. The cockpit window is tempered, bulletproof glass, tested to be able to deflect projectiles from medium-caliber firearms. All this comes at the cost of minimal weaponry, to not strain the cold fusion power core: a single fifty-caliber turret, equipped with standard ammunition. Ideally, I would not have relied on this single weapon, but instead on maneuverability and my cyberwarfare programs."
Skyfire cantered to the front of the vehicle and faced the camera. She held a hoof up in front of Zaita's... eye. "Hold up. So... you're telling me... that this thing cloaks, makes minimum noise, hacks computers, take hits from missiles, and can fly?"
"The cockpit is also furnished with seats cushioned with synthetic materials, and outfitted with speakers and cameras so that I can communicate with any passengers. I hoped they would like music," Zaita added. Skyfire balked, her jaw dropping. "After the passing of decades, the appearance of the restored Roaman government started to seem less likely. I am glad I was wrong. Even still, I anticipated that I may have found agreeable individuals in my exodus. People who may have appreciated my mission and offered to help, even if in exchange for whatever favors a stealthcraft such as this could perform. The data I would have housed, after all, would have been useless if it did not eventually benefit the Roaman people."
"So you would've been a nomadic APC?" I snickered. Honestly, the thought of some autonomous flying vehicle moving around the wasteland, talking to people through speakers and looking at them through a camera 'eye' struck me as oddly amusing. "Off on a mission to restore the world? It's ambitious but noble. We're on the same mission ourselves. Maybe we could..." I stopped. I looked to the ground and put a hoof to my forehead. How... how did I not think of it sooner?
Skyfire seemed to be on the same train of thought as I was. She turned to Zaita. "Maybe we could help each other," she finished for me. "You're basically out here to make these ruins great again. Well, we're doing the same. It's slow fucking work. You could speed it up."
My eyes locked with hers. We smiled simultaneously and turned to Delvius. Grinning widely, she grabbed the zebra by the collar of his armor and looked him right in the eye. "This is it, dude! This is exactly what we need! It's an automated flying APC, for Celestia's sake. You... you don't even have to fly it. It can even fire its own weapon. You could literally just sit inside it and keep in touch with us through radios or something. Zaita could keep you company. I'ts perfect!"
Though the proximity of Skyfire's face unnerved him, Delvius managed to turn his head and give the vehicle a long look. Zaita's camera met his gaze. After a long moment, he sniffed and let out a laugh. He smiled crookedly. "Well, when you put it that way... it could work."
The heaviness in my heart melted away. I sucked in a breath and looked up at the sky, laughing. Skyfire pulled Delvius over and gave me a hug. Eventually, Delvius wrapped both his hooves around us in an embrace.
"How nice," Zaita said. She turned her camera on Vesperius and focused on him. "The decision is yours, legatus. I have seen these individuals in action. Against a foe they could not even see, they stood fast. However, I realize that my platform is unique, capable of things the majority of your equipment cannot do. Should you need it for military operations, I will readily defer to your judgement."
Vesperius' gaze passed over the three of us. For a moment, I was overtaken by dread. Around my neck, Delvius' hoof went limp. Vesperius was a generous zebra, but Zaita's platform... it would have been damned useful. It could make his life so much easier. Surely the benefits of using it for his own purposes far outweighed his desire to keep us together.
It was mid afternoon now. The sky was normally a light orange. Instead, it was a light blue. A calming drone filled my ears.
Vesperius narrowed his eyes and glanced around as though he heard someone calling him. Then he refocused on us, nodded, and gave a warm smile. "Goldwreath, you insult me," he joked. "Giving me such a worried and terrified look. Do you seriously think I'd be cruel enough to refuse you this boon, which fits the specifications of your needs to the letter? This is no coincidence. Clearly the decision was never up to me. It was made by the gods."
He trotted close to Zaita's camera and laid a hoof on the vehicle's chassis. "Here are your orders," he told her, "Accompany these three. Goldwreath is an official agent of mine, and he needs his own transportation. The other two are his friends, and he functions best with them. Keep them safe, serve them well. This is your duty to Roam."
"Of course, legatus," Zaita replied. Her camera turned to us: three friends, put through an emotional rollercoaster, and anxiously awaiting the sweet end to it. "The decision is made. I trust we will accomplish much together, Goldwreath."
We cheered and dove back into the group hug. Skyfire was shedding tears, and Delvius was telling her it was alright as he wiped them off her cheek.
"That was too fucking close," he laughed out, brimming with relief and joy. "But it turns out, I'm not leaving."
***Roama Victrix***
After all the superficial damage to Zaita's exterior had been repaired, Delvius made a shocking announcement: He wanted to learn to pilot the vehicle. Just as he had previously claimed that his ineffectiveness as a combatant lead him to believe he would be a liability, so too did he claim that it would be irresponsible of him to not take the opportunity to be of more use to us in any way he could. We didn't complain. The emotional high of our continued partnership had us support him and tell him what a good idea it was.
So, that afternoon, Zaita bade us enter her platform. Inside was a spacious cabin, five feet wide and ten feet in length from the entrance in the rear to the pilot's seat in the front. On one side was a row of five cushioned seats, on the other a row of four; where the fifth seat would have been there was instead a slightly elevated platform where the gunner would stand to control the vehicle's turret, which was currently hidden away in the vehicle's chassis. The pilot's console was a complex assortment of various apparatus and displays necessary for flight and control, in the very center of which was a wide screen that displayed Zaita as a red field broken up by a horizontal white line that shook whenever she spoke. Along the corners of the cabin's ceiling were speakers, and just above the interior windowframe was another of Zaita's cameras.
Zaita took us into the empty field just outside the camp where we could safely test her APC platform out. Skyfire tried her hoof at the controls first. It took her a few minutes, but eventually she said that it handled even better than a Skytank. After that announcement, she grinned ear to ear and gave the metal walls a kiss. Delvius and I looked on silently. Then she grabbed our zebra friend and sat him on the pilot's seat, and began familiarizing him with the controls. All the flight jargon messed with his head, and he was sweating like mad, but he took the reigns. To all of our amazement, a few minutes later, we were still in the air.
"Steady... steady..." Skyfire drawled, squinting out the window. The vehicle circled high above the ground. "See? You're doing just fine!"
"Shhhhhhhh!" Delvius hissed at her, his hooves trembling on the controls. "Don't jinx it, Skyfire. I'm controlling several tons of war machine; a single twitch and I could crash this thing into the ground. G-gods, my hooves. Let me concentrate on just... bringing this thing down first."
Just as Skyfire had shown him, he put a hoof on a smooth pad and swiped it downwards. We began to descend. Delvius sat forward in his seat, trying to get a bead on how high up we were. Sweat trickled down the side of his head.
Skyfire tapped him urgently on the shoulder. "Watch the altitude display! We're going down too fast!"
"I don't feel like we are. How are you sure?" he asked her in a panic.
"I'm a pegasus, I can tell!"
"Well, where's the altitude display?!"
She pointed at a rapidly changing set of numbers off to the side of the control panel. Twenty meters... fifteen... ten...
"You forgot already?" she asked incredulously. "It's right the-..."
The vehicle crashed into the ground, throwing us around the cabin. It was good that I'd decided to retrieve my equipment before going on this flight lesson, otherwise I'd have banged my bear forehead against the wall of the APC's cabin. As it was, my helmet took the brunt of the impact. It still hurt like hell, of course.
Delvius groaned and pulled himself away from the console. "Okay. Lesson's over. Let's try again tomorrow." He sat back and stretched his neck. It gave a loud pop. "Or the day after that... or never. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
"What? Nah, you did great," Skyfire chuckled painfully, laying flat on the metal floor. "For a beginner, anyway. You managed a good five minutes up in the air. Honestly, I'm impressed."
"I can't tell if you're joking or not," Delvius said.
Zaita's voice reverberated through the cabin, "Her body scans indicate temperature patterns indicative of sincerity. So, no, she is not joking."
I picked myself up and staggered forward, then stumbled onto the seat closest to him. I put a hoof on his shoulder. "It'll take practice, but you did pretty good. You stayed in the air higher than I did when I first flew, if that's any comfort. Don't tap out now. The day may come when this thing won't be automated, and we'll need you then."
He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I didn't really mean it. It's just the learning curve, I guess." He stretched some more, this time giving his back attention. "Agh. Really though, let's just continue tomorrow. I'm done flying for today."
"Well, I'm not," Skyfire blurted out. She shoved him out from behind the controls, and he just barely managed to sit his haunches onto the cushioned passenger seats. I snickered, finding Skyfire's filly-like glee amusing.
She stood in front of the controls, eyeing all the apparatus lovingly. Then she leaned down and rubbed her cheeks against Zaita's screen. "Oh, baby... show me how high you can go..."
It was a rhetorical statement, meant to demonstrate her extreme admiration of the piece of engineering we were in. Zaita took it literally.
"Very well," the AI intoned, and suddenly the engines roared to life and blasted us into the air. The velocity of our ascent was such that all of us were thrown to the ground. As we climbed, the sensation of weightlessness I felt when I myself was in flight was so magnified that my whole body felt numb and empty. It was as if I had left my organs back on the ground.
"T-t-t-toooo f-f-f-fast!" Delvius cried out, limp in his seat, his eyes shut tight.
My stomach lurched. Hold on. Was I, a pegasus, actually getting sick from this? Yes. Yes I was.
Thankfully, our climb gradually slowed and we stopped before I was forced to expel my brunch. The vehicle hovered where it was, the humming of the engines gentle. Flowing in through the window was such blinding golden luminescence that for a moment I thought the vehicle was ablaze.
My legs trembling, I staggered up and steadied myself against the wall. I looked up at Zaita's interior camera, which was also focused on me. "Don't that again, please," I begged, taking deep breaths and gripping my gut.
"My apologies. I had forgotten organics suffer from G-force."
While Delvius and I were sitting where we were, recovering from the shock, Skyfire galloped to the back and lowered the exit ramp. Immediately, the cabin was filled with the discordant whistles of loud winds and even more golden light; as if the reflecting beams flowing through the window weren't bright enough. I was blinded, punched in the eyes by how absurdly dazzling the cabin had become.
"What is this?" Delvius groused. "I thought we were in an APC, not the inside of a beacon. Close the damn door!"
Skyfire ignored his demand. "Whoo-wee! Guys, take a look at this!" I heard her flap her wings.
"So... awesoooooome!" came her voice, distant, carried on the wind.
I made my way to the back, blocking off the light with a hoof. I trotted until I felt the outward decline of the exit ramp. It was also then that a powerful, cold wind slammed against my side, throwing me hard against the rear doorframe. I had been thrown off balance; I could feel one of my hooves on the edge of the ramp. For the sake of regaining stability, I opened my eyes to get an idea of exactly where we were.
Wherever I looked on the horizon, there was nothing but bright white, tinted gold by the afternoon sun. The cottony texture of the whiteness below us became immediately familiar to me: clouds. Zaita had taken us above the clouds. I looked up, and there was the impenetrable endlessness of the blue heavens, crowned by the awesomely bright orb of Apollo's sun. A great lightness washed over me, filling me with wonder. The cold winds of the world tickled my hide and rippled the cloth of my cape and tunic, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. All my life, a piece of me ached for something. I never quite knew what, but I had been restless. Now, as I stared out into the sky, catching glimpses of Roam below through small breaks in the curtain of clouds, I knew that that part of me was satisfied.
I was a pegasus. A creature of the air. I'd been grounded for all of my memory, and it had instilled in me a fear to use my wings to their fullest potential. Now that I had seen the home of my kind... I promised myself I would no longer hesitate to fly, as I desired or was demanded of me.
Skyfire zipped past me, circling in the air before gliding down onto a cloud just below us. Yes, she was standing on a cloud. My jaw dropped.
She smiled up at me. "Come on, Goldwreath! Get down here!"
"How are you doing that?" I called down.
"We live in a magical world, dude," she answered, "Unicorns ain't the only ones who show it. Earth ponies grow the best food; the soil answers to them. But the sky? The sky is our playground. Now, jump on down here! Be prepared for a... heh, shock."
If all else failed, I had my wings, lacking as they were in flight training. But I didn't care about that. With a grin, I jumped off the APC and landed on the puffy cloud -- but as my hooves struck its cottony surface, the whole area around me was instantly ionized, and thunder boomed across the rolling white fields. From below me flashed the brightness of a second sun. Tiny bolts of lightning arced between my forelegs and the cloud. I drew my hooves close and watched the ripples of electricity harmlessly travel through my flesh.
"Awesome, right? It's one of the oldest tricks in a pegasus' list of flashy stunts, but boy, is it one of the best," Skyfire told me. "It's magical electricity, too, different from regular bolts. This stuff won't hurt you. Anyone without wings, though..." She grinned wickedly. "Thankfully, the Legion's got enough banners and poles around their camp that I'm pretty sure none of them got hurt. But if we wanted to, we really could snipe people with this stuff, if they were in an open field."
As I watched the ripples disappear into my hooves, I let out a laugh. "That's amazing." I looked up and around, taking in a deep, cold breath. I stretched my wings out and launched myself into the air. Though my wings protested from the effort, I didn't care.
"This is amazing!" I cried out into the clouds.
I caught a glimpse of Delvius, prone, hanging onto the edge of the APC's rear. His face was pale. "Glad you two are enjoying yourselves," he called out. "But I think I'll stay on the ground. Maybe its your pegasus magic, but the air up here's too thin for me. That and the... vertigo." He held back a retch. "Z-zaita? Take us down, please."
The vehicle began descending. As the rear of the of the APC closed, he shouted, "See you guys on the ground!"
I bade him farewell as he disappeared beneath the white. Skyfire got up right next to me, looking into the gap they'd left in the cloud curtain with some concern.
"I should probably stick with him," she said. "Make sure the thin air up here didn't mess with him. Some people can't handle the height. You come down when you like." She smiled, gesturing at the clouds around us. "None of this is new to me, but for you this must be a hell of a first time. Take some time to enjoy it."
I grinned and nodded vigorously. With that, she dove beneath the clouds. Me, I turned around and took in the simple grandeur of it all. I dared to lay on my back and close my eyes, testing the limits of this new and magical frontier. Pegasus magic, Skyfire told me. This was not something to be explained rationally; I just had to accept it. And honestly, I had no trouble doing it. I told the skeptical part of me to just shut up for once and enjoy the moment.
Then the air began to ionize again. I could feel the hairs of my hide standing on end, and I could smell the ozone. I opened my eyes, and noticed a massive formation of white clouds rapidly approaching. That was odd, I thought. This high up, all the clouds were flat. Then I noticed this was no ordinary cloud formation: its bottom stabbed the flat clouds beneath it with thousands of miniscule lightning bolts. Indeed, all over its surface were countless arcs of electricity.
I stepped away from it, too late. It passed over me, enveloping me in its charged embrace. Wisps of vapor danced around my limbs, seeping into my armor and clothing. All the while, thunder rumbled quietly in its depths, and tiny bolts shot at every inch of me. I knew not what to make of this phenomenon, only that it was not harming me and thus I had no reason to be frightened.
Then a great droning noise filled my ears, and just as quickly disappeared. My saddlebags suddenly felt heavy. I had emptied them the night before, when I slept. In strapping on my armor before accompanying Delvius on his lesson, I had also attached it to my rear, but I certainly did not recall putting anything in it. I reached a hoof inside and pulled out the contents.
Jupiter's Eagle was in my hoof, its staff collapsed. In its presence, the cloud phenomenon intensified, the bolts of lightning doubling in number.
I swallowed as the drama unfolded all around me. Thunder boomed in my ears. Perhaps I was simply hearing things, but I could almost swear the pattern of their booms were forming words. I couldn't make anything out, though.
Still, I now knew what this was. I knelt down and said into the clouds, "I asked for a sign, and you have given it. I was a skeptic, but yes... now, I believe."
After a few moments, the phenomenon dissipated into the atmosphere. I stood and looked around, seeing only the smoothness of the cloud curtain. I looked back to the Eagle and reverently caressed its golden form. I knew not he wanted of me. Perhaps he had a plan, and I was important to it? Well, he had shown his presence. If Jupiter Optimus Maximus wanted to tell me more, he knew I was listening.
I decided to digest what had just happened by taking a long walk above the clouds. This time, every step I took sent the rumble of thunder across the heavens. Sparks of electricity met my hooves as I trotted into the sunset.
Entry #10 So one of the suspects tried to resist last night. He had modified an electric baton out of a lead pipe and a battery. It hurt like hell, but after a while the electric shocks didn't affect me anymore. Summer Sands saw me overcome the onslaught with ease. Now he's saying I'm "Blessed By Jupiter" or something, I don't know. What a silly notion.
Your strange encounter above the clouds has affected you in ways you don't yet understand.
You can only have one companion with you at all times. Delvius will wait with Zaita when Skyfire is in your party.
