The Face in the Mirror
Dear Princess Celestia,
At the time of writing this letter, the empire has been engaged in the conflict with the “hoomanies” for three years. I am sure I need not remind you that, at the start of this conflict, you assured us it would last no more than an afternoon. I will take a moment to commend you, Princess Celestia. You have always been open about the nature of this war. I have followed every update with bated breath. In fact for the longest time I shared in the excitement of my fellow ponies. Now that excitement has been replaced with a near constant sense of dread. What do I fear, I often ask myself? That these hoomanies may find a way into our world and attack us? Or that some higher power, higher even than you, may destroy our world in some sort of cosmic retribution? Neither of those is right. I believe what I fear is that we are becoming something distorted and evil. Or perhaps we are returning to what nature always intended us to be.
What can be said about the conflict that you do not already know? I do not know where to start, so I hope you will not be bored if I start at the beginning. I’ll admit, this is mostly to help me gather my thoughts and build to the purpose of this letter.
When your apprentice first opened a portal to the strange world of the hoomanies, I was horrified at what I saw. Through that portal was a world of chaos and hatred, as if Discord had spent an eternity corrupting it. It was frightening to see. We all perceived it as a world so unlike our own. These hoomanies that inhabited the world could never be mistaken as ponies. They were physically grotesque and their language was strange and sharp. Beyond that, they were so cruel and evil in every action they took. Disgust and revulsion swelled inside us. When that repulsion passed, it was replaced with a sense of pity for these poor, strange creatures. It was like looking at a world of foals. They did not have magic or love. Yes, pity. That’s what we all felt, isn’t it? In a royal decree, you announced we ponies would make contact and show the hoomanies the error of their ways. You sought volunteers to bolster the ranks of the Royal Guards for the initial… what was the word you so candidly used? “Contact?” These were violent, simple creatures after all. Although we went seeking peace, they would no doubt give us war, but whatever conflict arouse would be solved within a day.
I was proud to be one of the first volunteers. As fast as my legs could carry me, I raced to Canterlot and applied for membership to the auxiliary unit. I was so eager to somehow help these backwards creatures, and of course to serve you, my princess. I have never thought of myself as anything less than blessed to have been born under your watchful gaze and now I found the opportunity to give something back. I genuinely believed that these hoomanies would fall under our hoof and willingly accept us as their leaders in that single afternoon you spoke of.
You never lied to us, Princess Celestia. Of that, I must commend you. You never portrayed the hoomanies as monsters or as demons that needed to be eradicated. You just told us they were confused and I still agree with that sentiment. They are confused. They are backwards. They do not understand what they do or the consequences of their actions. We saw them spill the blood of their fellows and felt rage and sickness in our hearts. I believe that is what first caused you to rally Equestria’s forces. They crossed some sort of line you had drawn in the sand. We crossed through the portals, fancying ourselves liberators of an oppressed race, and we attacked who we perceived as the perpetrators of the crimes. We were baffled when the hoomanies united and rallied their forces against us. At first we believed they were confused, but that changed quickly. Our contact escalated from peacekeeping to self-defense and then first strike. More and more hoomanies and ponies died but we still believed we were in the right. How did we go from peacekeeping to slaughter? Was it so gradual, our transition from liberators to conquerors, that none took notice? Was it as slow as individual drops of water filling a bottomless jug? Or was it as fast as lightning?
Our tactics changed. It was decided a show of proper force would cause them to yield. When their weapons were laid down, we would explain our original intentions. That plan failed spectacularly. It was then decided that if we destroy the infrastructure of their world, we can rebuild them in our own noble image. We had good intentions and that should somehow justify our own use of force? We cast the first stone upon these hoomanies and then were baffled when they cast stones right back.
Still, we fancy ourselves somehow better. We are not as cruel as hoomanies. We are not as concerned with conquest. Our hearts are pure and that can never change. The hoomanies are angry foals who cannot think five minutes ahead.
I remember when I was a foal, and a colt. I recall the constant mockery that my blank flank earned me. Always, I was ridiculed and mocked for that and my size. I think the other colts understood I wouldn’t fight back. After all, how could I? If a pegasi punches an earth walker, the earth walker will barely notice it. If an earth walker punches a pegasi, the pegasi will go flying through a wall. My ears were flicked and my tail was pulled and I endured it, but always a sense of rage was brewing in my heart. Their comments were merciless and seemed to be without end. I was angry at them and angry at my body for taking so long to mature. I was even angry at you for allowing such cruelties to befall me.
Then one day, one of the unicorns tugged my tail so hard, nine strands of fine green fur came with it. I turned to the unicorn with a rage like I had never felt before. I think he understood he had crossed some sort of line I had drawn in the sand, and he tried to run. He was far too slow. To this day, his left rear leg is mangled in an ugly sort of way because of what I did to him.
When I got home that night, my mother broke a walking stick across my jaw. She beat me with her hooves and screamed about what I had done. When she was done with her fury, my father came to me. I winced, expecting him to hit me, but he sat down and spoke in a calm voice. “Great is it to have the strength of a giant, but tyrannous to use it as a giant does.” Those were the words he said to me, as if those would guide me for the rest of my life.
During my most recent tour in the hoomanies world, my squad and I were occupying a hoomanies town. I was serving under Sergeant Marshall Law, as I have for the extent of my military career. Walking the streets of that town, staring at all the ugly hoomanies, I recall feeling an impact on my cheek. Was a spear thrown? Or had one of them shot me with their strange slug throwers? No. It was just a hoomanies child, throwing rocks at us. The sergeant told us to ignore the creature, but his aim was true, and he kept hitting me in the snout. Feeling adventurous perhaps, he ventured closer and continued to pelt me with rocks, until one struck me in the eye and I felt rage boil in my heart.
The hoomanies child did not fare as well against me as the unicorn bully from my youth. For just a moment, looking at the crumpled little hoomanies child, broken almost beyond recognition, I recalled my father’s words. I turned to the sergeant, expecting him to beat me just as my mother had. He laughed and commended my… “thoroughness,” and told me to do that to any other hoomanies rock throwers. Not that any did, after seeing such a graphic display. It felt good to hurt the rock thrower, just as it felt good to hurt the bully, but my father’s words echoed in my head. For the longest time, I could not say why.
If I may speak candidly about your sister... Please do not grow angry at my words, Princess Celestia. I hope that you know I hold nothing but found sentiment for noble Princess Luna. Many nights I have spent with her, sharing in the glow of the moon. Many times she has saved me from nightmares. I adore Princess Luna and would give my life a thousand times to spare her an ounce of pain. But what if these hoomanies had opened a portal, with their science instead of magic, and happened to see Nightmare Moon’s wrath and fury. Surely seeing such a monstrous creature, they would believe we needed their help, and attempt to slay Luna without understanding what was happening. If they invaded our world, what would we do? I would fight. I would stomp and crush as many as I could beneath my hooves, until my hooves were coated and caked with blood. I would slaughter the hoomanies and if they ever took me down, I would only be sure to take a thousand down with me. If I had no spear or strength, I would throw rocks.
As the war has stretched from a lazy afternoon to three years, our methods have become increasingly volatile. I remember in the first days of conflict, we attempted to minimize the causalities we inflicted, but that did not last. Soon, we were fighting tooth and hoof. I was proud of the blood I spilled. I felt like a real soldier. My duty was not just to stand guard and protect you, my princess, but to go out and actually do something. I was making you proud. I was helping these poor stupid creatures even as I crushed them beneath my hooves. The sergeant’s praise echoed in my ears and drove me forward.
Even as the risk of fighting the hoomaniess increased steadily, my dedication was undeterred. During those early days of the conflict, I would dare call it fun. With our enchanted armor and natural gifts, we could beat the hoomanies back with ease. I cannot help but smile when I remember one situation where at least a dozen hoomanies piled on top of me to keep me down. I bucked them off and sent them all flying into walls where they splatted like bugs. Their fastest flying machines could not hope to match the speed of our pegasi forces, and their strange weapons could be trumped by the magic of the unicorns. We won every battle.
Their weapons evolved. Their weapons became stronger, and were soon able to penetrate the enchanted cuirass we wore. If their flyers could not catch a pegasi, they would simply fill the sky with fire and metal and burn them out of the air. They would shoot a unicorn from such a distance, the unicorn had no time to react. Our methods changed and adapted to counter theirs and so on, and so forth, until today, where we are locked in a bitter struggle that neither side seems destined to win.
What caused this change of heart, I am sure you ask? Do I contact you today because I am afraid for my life? Why have I only chosen now to contact you instead of earlier or later?
My uncle died over the summer season. It was not the hoomanies that killed him. His heart simply gave out during the night. In fact I was in the hoomanies world, killing them, and could not attend my own uncle’s funeral. I recall when the sergeant came to me and informed me of his death, I casually informed the sergeant it was my turn to stand guard. I didn’t feel a pang of remorse for my uncle. All I could focus on was the hoomanies. I would mourn my uncle later.
When I returned from my tour, I was tasked with cleaning out my uncle's home. It was in the basement that I found an old mirror he had kept. I pulled down the dusty blanket that covered the reflective sheen and for the first time in forever, I looked upon myself.
I wish I could say something dramatic. I wish I could say I was covered in the blood and gore of those I had murdered, but truthfully I had been away from combat long enough that my fur was clean and my mane was done. I have scars but they are concealed beneath the blackness of my belly fur. I would like to say, had any mare laid eyes upon me, they would have been intrigued.
So what in that moment did I see that changed me so? Why did tears swell in my eyes? Why did a hoof lift and reach out to my reflection as if it was some sort of trick?
When in the hoomanies world, I was never out of my armor. I was terrified of being caught off guard so I was constantly on edge and ready to fight. When I looked in the mirror, I saw myself without armor for the first time in years. No helmet was on my head or spear in my hoof. I was just a simple workhorse, what I was before I raced to the castle to enlist. I started to wonder about those hoomanies that I had crushed beneath my hooves, and I wondered what did they see in their mirrors? Were they always little soldiers in little suits of armor, armed with little ghoons? Or could they take off their armor as easy as I could and be done with it? When they were not on the field of battle fighting us, did they hug their mothers and wives? Raise their daughters? Drink cider with their brothers? Did they put on their suit of armor because they hated us? Or because they feared the four legged monsters who shot lasers from their horns and manipulated the skies? This war had not lasted an afternoon, so how many have lost family and not been able to attend their funeral? What about that child?
I am but a humble earthmover, sending this letter before a princess. I have been born of no prestige and will never achieve greatness in my life. On your back, you carry the fate of not only all of Equestria but the fate of this hoomanies world as well. Please my princess, take a step back and look upon your actions through different eyes.
Sincerely,
With great love for you in my heart,
Your fateful soldier,
Captain Black Jack of the Ninth Lunar Battalion