Fallout : Equestria - New Roam Innovatus

by Delvius

First published 13th of September, 2013

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

The amazing fourth-wall breaking (not really) zebra, has compiled all of New Roam's musical themes!
*I added / changed several themes.

GENERAL

Forum Tranquility - Alme_Sol
Peace of the Forum Fields - Alexander Peace; Epitpah of Seikilos
The Universe - Enigma
Roam - Civ 5 OST main NEW
Being chased - ME3 Reaper Chase
Escape from some dangerous place - Fall
War in the Roaman Wasteland - Savimbi's PrideNEW

FACTIONS

Specters - The Game Has Changed OR ( I could not decide) MW2 OST main multiplayer
Legion - Warcraft 3 'Human 1 OST' OR ( I could not decide) Protectors of the Earth

CHARACTERS

Zaita - Cosmos, ASTO - 4.5 Billion Years OldNEW
Unnamed blue character - Immortal NEW
Unnamed, introduced green character - Starfall NEW OR ( I could not decide) CnC 3 Tiberium Wars ost Main - Black Dawn
Goldwreath - A New Dawn NEW
Myst - Assassin's Creed OST main
Skyfire - The Fire in Her Eyes NEW
Predator - Prophet's Journey NEW
Doodle - In The Moments Of Glory
Delvius - Blood
Vesperius - Crysis 3 main

FACTION SITUATIONAL

Legion
Legion Conquest - Journey to Rome
Legion Battle - Soldier's Chant

Specters
Specters Espionage - Hector's Death (or at least the first minute before the vocals)

Prologue - Roam Ascendant

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.

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."

Chapter I - Paradise Lost

Chapter I
Paradise Lost
"Conquered, we conquer."

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.

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.

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.

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!"

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...

Speech -- 20+5 / 100
Melee weapons -- 20+5 / 100

Chapter II - Tribute

Chapter II
Tribute
"All's fair in love and war."

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...

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!"

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."

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...

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.

"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.

Speech -- 25+10/100

Chapter III - Loyalties

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.

"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."

"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.

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?"

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.

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

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...

"... 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.

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."

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.

"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."

"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.

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.