I was born one generation after the war. It’s the generation where a country afflicted by an all-encompassing conflict that affects everyone has few large and obvious scars left to show but is fresh enough that not much time has passed for many to call it anything other than “the war.” At twenty-four years old, I have never so much as held a weapon, be it melee or firearm. For others in my age group and I, though, a parent or relative, a family friend, or perhaps an older sibling knows the heft of a sword as it cuts through the air, or the kick that a magic rifle puts against your shoulder. They know that feeling and all the baggage that comes with it.
Fifteen percent of Equestrians today are veterans. That figure is only among the Equestrians who are or were officially part of the armed forces during the war. If I was to include those who died and all the civilians who took up arms to protect their princessdom, that percentage would be closer to thirty-nine. There are few above a certain age who do not have at least one combat story to tell—either their own, one they heard, or one from someone who is no longer here to share it. While these stories are passed through and along in bars, classrooms, and living rooms, the time has come to rein in these tales before they are lost, or worse, live on in twists and additions and embellishments that ruin the grandeur of the time Equestria fought the cosmos and won.
My name is Storied Halls, which I tell you now because you will not be hearing my name all that much as you follow me while I gather accounts from many different perspectives throughout the war, from before it began up through the aftermath, which, I guess includes today.
The Lunar Cathedral is built into the face of Canterlot Mountain. Its main worship chamber has the cavern’s only window: a stained-glass piece many stories high depicting Princess Luna with her wings splendidly splayed, acting as a cradle for the clear, round piece that allows the moon to shine through perfectly on many nights. This is one of those nights, and the priestess prays in whispers bathed in a bright moonbeam. The light makes her alabaster coat seem to glow even beneath her gossamer veil that flows down her back with her wings spread, much like the visage above her. I only hear the words she offers to the Princess because we are the only occupants of the chamber. The quiescence is such that a feather falling could disturb the peace. A slight flick of one ear tells me that she hears me approaching, yet her reverence does not stop. It is a sign that I should stay my introductions for after her praise is finished.
“She blesses us this night,” the priestess says.
“And every night,” I respond in kind. She seems bemused that I know the traditional greetings Luna’s worshippers use to recognize each other. Interestingly, traditional Princess worship has increased after the war, but you can tell the difference between a newly devout adherent and one who grew up in the faith. The priestess here is certainly old hat. Apparently, her prayer spot is as good a place as any to begin the interview, as she only turns to me and sits in a more relaxed pose rather than taking the both of us to another hall, room, or sanctum. She blinks her big, silver eyes, waiting for me to begin. I admit, I’m a bit captivated by the entire scene, and were I a praying pony myself I’d ask Luna to forgive my wandering thoughts.
“Priestess Argenta Star. Former Captain of Luna’s Shadows. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She nods, “Likewise. Though I still am the Captain, should the need arise again.”
“The last time the need arose was the first time the Shadows acted in a millennium. You didn’t even show up when Nightmare Moon returned. Uh, the first time, before Princess Twilight Sparkle’s ascension.”
“I’m aware of the history,” Argenta blinks again, slowly, “We were disorganized then. No direction for a thousand years will do that to any covert unit. Before Twilight, when Nightmare Moon took Luna from us the first time, many of us fell to the True Darkness that evil being brought. Those ponies were lost along with her when Celestia banished her to the moon. After their loss, the ancestors that remained vowed that should we ever get the chance to serve Luna again, we would serve the Luna we know, not anything she becomes. This is why we did not raise a hoof when Nightmare Moon returned. Fighting would either betray Luna once again if we sided with her darker self, or would lead us to possibly harming Our Lady that we knew resided within Nightmare Moon.”
“But you fought against Luna in the war, did you not?”
Argenta shakes her head, a tinge of anger in her brow, “No, we fought Nightmare Moon, just as the Berserkers fought Daybreaker, not Celestia. The threat was different. The hold the True Darkness had on Luna was much stronger. The singing of our weapons was the only way our cries, our faith, would reach Luna’s ears. Cutting through Nightmare’s armies, getting ever closer to Canterlot Mountain… It was the ultimate test of our devotion—one I pray nopony ever has to go through again.”
“Take me back to the beginning. Back before the war. There are rumors that deep elements of Luna’s guard knew the Nightmare Force was still around.”
“The fools who perpetuate that myth think Luna knew it was hidden and intentionally kept it near so that she may one day attempt to take Equestria for herself again. This couldn’t be further from the truth. We, who are in the shadow of Her wings know better than anyone how great Luna’s fear was of turning into Nightmare Moon again. She kept eyes and ears everywhere to report to her if even a foal’s schoolyard story of seeing a blob that looked like her held credence.”
“Yet no creature saw it coming when it actually did,” I say.
“Not even Our Lady Herself. Last time it crept quietly. It was subtle, taking over her mind bit by bit and changing her demeanor slowly until she was totally consumed. We all thought it would be the same if it ever appeared again. We always looked for subtle changes; we tested her temperament from time to time and ran all manner of magical tests to see any sign of something evil at work. But it was swift, sudden, and far too powerful for even Luna to fend off. It struck her like a viper and by the time I arrived at her chamber that morning, she was gone.”
My surprise is apparent. “You saw her?”
Argenta nods, “Just in time to see the glimmer of Our Lady’s eyes be replaced by the gleam of the Nightmare’s. Nightmare Moon was back.”
“What did you do?”
“I flew at her, as if I was trying to chase Princess Luna into the depths of her own soul. I unsheathed my nightclaws and struck as hard as I could, but there was already a magic veil around her too strong for even the toughest blast to break through. I bounced off and landed on my back. I thought Nightmare Moon was going to counter, so I reflexively braced to defend, fully expecting the power of an alicorn to crush any paltry blocking my armor had, but that blow—and my death, never came. She laughed that awful, echoing laugh we all know too well, and disappeared.”
Argenta takes a deep breath.
“I knew I had to tell Celestia what had just transpired, that she, too, must brace for an attack, but a Berserker running by pulled me to my hooves and told me everything I needed to know with a question: ‘It got Luna, too?’”
In a three-hoof restaurant on the top deck floor of a skyscraper at the city’s center, Major Stalwart Sage makes a mockery of the opulence of the venue. His rear hooves rest on the table, the sheer weight of his war hammer’s head threatens to drop through the floor propped right next to him, and if I didn’t know that Chef Ramhay’s Sky Diamond Restaurant didn’t serve a drop out of a bottle that costs any less than a month of most Equestrians’ monthly income, I’d mistake the lacquered and gold-bound mahogany tankards strewn about for ones that may have contained the bottom shelf ale of a much less modern town on the frontiers. No creature would dare chastise the Major, though, as he is Celestia’s most decorated Berserker, and the other patrons of the Sky Diamond know they owe the luxurious meals they are having to him.
“I thought they were lyin’ about it. Both me and my wife laughed when the rookie busted in, armor too big for him slipping off his back, tellin’ us that Celestia had turned into some sort of demon. Everyone says the Celestial Berserkers are the no-nonsense branch of the Guard, but we like pranks and jokes just as much as the rest of ‘em. I was ready to see what silly costume Celestia had cooked up to get the newbie so frazzled, but when Lieutenant Richter Rumble came to me lookin’ just as scared as the greenhorn, I knew somethin’ was up.”
“The lieutenant wasn’t the joking type?”
“Richter Rumble follows the Code stricter than any creature I know. There have been some hard-asses in the Berserkers over the centuries but none like hers. Between that and the way she fights, she reminds us all why we have the name ‘Berserkers’ in the first place. Richter don’t joke, and Richter don’t get scared. If she’s doing one of them, the world’s broken.”
Stalwart takes his hooves off the table, downs a swig of beer, and slams his tankard down.
“And by Her sunny side up it sure as hell was broken. Word spread quickly—too quickly—what had happened and no one knew what to do. Princess Twilight dispatched us, Luna’s Shadows, and her own new covert branch to find out where the Sisters had gone, but while we were trying to find two monsters, tens of thousands more were rising up all across Equestria. Our mission changed from search and rescue to straight up rescue in no time. If we didn’t start defending Equestrians from those… things that were rising up everywhere, even if we found the Sisters, there’d be no Equestrians left for them to return to.”
“Things, you say,” I scribble on my notepad, “The Nightmare Army? They showed up that quickly?”
Stalwart nods, “Everywhere, all at once. To this day I don’t think there’s a single creature that knows how there were no signs. I remember running through Canterlot to every scream I could make it to. Half the time I’d make it and splat one of those monsters against a floor or wall and send whoever I saved off to the castle or a gate to hunker down. The other half, well, let’s just say there are a lot of ponies who could’ve been enjoying a fine drink here today just like I am. Even foals who never got to be old enough…”
The major pauses to look around, the recounting of his experience temporarily breaking him out of his stupor enough to notice that the entire section of the restaurant has ceased whatever conversations they were having to listen to him—and, undoubtedly, remember their own ordeals during that time if they had any.
Stalwart Sage clears his throat and grabs his next tankard, “You ain’t need the gory details, do ya, kid?”
“I need whatever you want to tell me however you want to tell it.”
“Well, I guess if it’s for history I’ll give you all I got.” Stalwart whistles for a waitpony to come over. “This beer I’ve been drinking. Forget the platters of tankards, just bring the damn barrels out here. I’m gonna need to forget that I remember what I’m about to tell this pony here. Again.”
Sunflower Daze observes her son, Rainy Daze, hook a hanging flowerpot on the porch overhang of their home. Her expression is one of simultaneous admiration and concern, the latter of which I don’t think she should have considering her son is a pegasus, therefore capable of flight. Then again, she is a mother. Any caring one never stops worrying about her child.
“Miss Daze?” I say. This breaks her eyes off her son for a moment for her to turn to me, recognize my presence, then turn right back to him.
“Storied Halls, right? You’re here for the interview. We were waiting for you. You don’t mind if we tend to this while we talk, do you?”
“Not at all,” I respond. “In fact, I’ll get right to it. I assume you’re having your son hang those plants because you… can’t.” I gesture to Sunflower Daze where there used to be wings and the fourth of four hooves.
She gives an exasperated sigh, as if I’m the hundredth pony to point it out today. “Yes. In some ways it has changed my life in more than the war did.” At the mention of the war, Rainy Daze flicks his ear and his eye darts the way of his mother and I for a fraction of a second. This is an observant family.
“We were in Canterlot when the Nightmare creatures appeared. We lived there, in the suburbs right outside the biggest commercial quarter. We had an unbelievable view of the entire castle grounds with our house being on an outcrop of Canterlot Mountain just higher than the outer castle walls’ height.” Sunflower sits down as I begin writing her account.
“Rainy could barely walk on his own back then. I was washing dishes with him in a harness when I saw the first explosions out the window. I thought it might have been some sort of fireworks accident or maybe a spell gone wrong in the thaumaturgical research wing, but then I saw the guards flooding the courtyard and the Nightmare creatures coming from… just everywhere. Out of the ground, the sky—even some like dust piling together to form out of nothing. First it was just the castle, but then they came closer. I was out the house with Rainy and flying out of the city the second I knew I was in danger. To this day I don’t even know if my old house is still there.
“Flying away is when I took the hit that lost me my wing. As I fell, I knew what was happening wasn’t some random monster attack. Monsters attack out of fear, agitation, with no planning. This was methodical—military. I turned my back to the ground and held Rainy to my chest, hoping at least he would survive the crash. When I came to, I was in an alley somewhere in the city. Rainy was crying, and now that I was on the ground his cries weren’t the only noises I heard. There were also demonic roars unlike anything I’d ever heard before mixed with the screams of ponies and other creatures, the swinging of swords and spears, and the sound of those new magic rifles going off. It was all pure chaos.”
“How did you get out of all that after being shot down?” I ask. Sunflower Daze smiles for the first time since she started her story.
“Stalwart Sage. I expect you’ll be hearing his name a lot if you’re talking to anyone who was in Canterlot in the beginning. When I was trying to get back to my feet in that alley, Rainy’s crying must have attracted one of the Nightmare creatures. They had all sorts of shapes and sizes but this one looked like a giant spider with razors for legs, dripping this black goo all over the place. It shrieked and ran at me. All I could do was put up my hoof to block one of its legs, but… You can see how well that worked out. Right before it could do the same thing to my head, a huge hammer came out of nowhere and slammed the Nightmare creature to the ground, killing it instantly. Stalwart Sage wasted no time making sure Rainy and I were okay, or, as okay as we could be in that situation. He wrapped up my hoof and wing and before I could even ask his name I was on his back as he ran through the streets of Canterlot, dodging more of the creatures and putting us down for no more than a few seconds when he had to smash what he couldn’t avoid.
“Eventually we reached one of the lesser gates of Canterlot, where the Royal Guard had set up a defensive area for civilians to gather. Only when another guard called out Stalwart’s name did I finally learn who he was, but before I could call for him to thank him, he had run back into the city to save more ponies.”
Sunflower pauses and glances between her missing hoof, missing wing, and present son.
She sighs, “I owe him everything. It’s why I agreed to this interview. I’m sure you’ll talk to him, so I hope you tell him my story, so he knows just how much he helped, if he doesn’t already.”