“Are these it?”

Scipio Grifficanus asked the grey coated mailmare, who nodded solemnly. She’d been dashing to and fro through the camp for the last few hours collecting the names. The list was a little depressing in its length, but given how the battle had gone, Scipio had to admit it was impressive. Untrained, underprepared ponies meeting in battle for the first time with battle hardened mercenaries and black magic driven monstrosities. This list is short for all of that. “Thank you, Ditzy.” He nodded, and she trotted back off into the camp.

It had been three days since the battle, and the camp had mostly gotten back to normal. Though the loss of the bridge had been a hit on morale, by and large the majority of the camp had taken the battle in stride and many considered it to be a minor victory. The knowledge that the tainted cider would not spread to communities in the south had even been cause for celebration by most… but not all.

Scootaloo was sitting in the command tent as he entered it, the same place she’d been for the past three days. She had not moved, and had only slept when ordered to. She’d been hoofing out orders, making camp preparations to fill in the skill gaps created by losses, and approving of this or that action. Only the close attendance of Zecora had kept Scootaloo eating and sleeping at regular enough intervals that Scipio had been able to keep concerns to a minimum.

Still, he worried about her. “That’s the loss totals,” Scipio said quietly, dumping the rough pile of paper that was the mockery of an AAR they’d been forced to use given the lack of proper drafting supplies. Scootaloo was holding her head in her hooves as she stared at the scattered piles of documents on the table. She barely glanced at the pile before going back to examining a sheaf bearing their supply numbers. Scipio had to bite back a snarky comment before he could speak again. The first battle was always the hardest on new commanders, and he knew it. “Crusader… we need to make our plans to move quickly. I’ve already worked out a route along with the one named Cherry Berry. She says she’s been this way before and knows a series of oasis’ that we can use to get to Los Pegasus.”

Scootaloo remained silent for another few moments - long enough that Scipio wanted to walk over and try to comfort her. But… “Thank you, Scipio,” she said quietly, closing her eyes deliberately and taking a deep breath of her own. “You’re right. I need to… to get my act together. Everypony here’s counting on me.” She took in a shuddering breath and exhaled it in an utterly unconvincing imitation of calm. She put on a great false smile, but Scipio was having none of that.

He snorted softly and slapped his palm upon the table. “Oh, stop that nonsense! Listen to me, Scootaloo. We had a good plan, and we executed it to the best of our ability.” Scipio leaned down over the table and glared at the little pegasus until she looked up at him in surprise. He cocked an eyebrow at her, resting his chin in his talons. “We suffered losses, achieved some of our goals, and were forced into a tactical retreat.”

He stabbed a talon toward her, stopping it just inches from her nose. “That’s war, kid. You never get everything you want, and we did damn good given the hoof we were dealt.” Blessedly, Scootaloo looked like she understood the sentiment. She just looked like she didn’t much like it, which Scipio could completely sympathize with… it was just that she had to learn that now before things got dark, and dark things were going to get if the last fight had been any indication.

Scootaloo shook her head a little, as if in denial of reality… then sighed, her mask of confidence falling away to show the moodiness and irritability that lurked beneath. “Fuck,” was all she said at first, and Scipio agreed, if not in words. She rubbed at her eyes for a moment before glaring at the papers. “Okay. Get me a map with the route on it, and tell Berry Punch I want a list of our supplies.” Scootaloo shoved herself up from her position on the table, bowing her head for a moment. “And we need to arrange some kind of memorial service.”

Scipio nodded once. He’d already made the arrangements for those things, but it never hurt to humor a green commander who wouldn’t know that. Understanding what subordinates took care of was something that came with experience, especially for those not… traditionally trained. “Of course, Crusader.” He turned away toward the tent flap. She would need some more time to get herself together, but he had no doubt that she would.

Of course, all plans to give her that time got knocked in the head as the flap swept open to reveal the massive white bulk of the pegasus called Snowflake. A distinctly odd name, but it did fit his personality rather well. For all of his blustering and obsession with strength and fitness, he was quite a softy at heart. His eyes were wide, and his breathing came in short bursts. “C-c-crusader Scootaloo! We have gue-”

Snowflake was cut off as he was shoved to one side almost without effort by a bright yellow coated pegasus. She strode into the tent with such an obvious military bearing that Scipio instantly felt himself draw up to slightly better attention. “Shut your trap, recruit. We don’t have time for nancying about.” Her voice snapped like a bullwhip, and her fiery orange-red eyes bored into his skull as her gaze settled on him, the glimmer of flight goggles hanging from her neck the only gear she wore... “So, you must be the griffon in charge. Where’s the kid?” she growled in a no-nonsense tone.

Scipio stared at her for a moment in confusion as he tried to pin down where he had seen or heard of this pegasus before until Scootaloo’s voice grumbled out from behind him. “I’m not a kid. My name is Scoot-” Her voice cut off mid word in a sputter of disbelief. “Commander Spitfire!?” Scootaloo half yelled in confusion. Instantly, the name conjured up the visions of the half legendary leader of the Equestrian special air squadron, the Wonderbolts.

She looked every inch like her name, a pony made into a living flame that threatened to burst forth into the world. Her lips twitched up in a half smile, and she cocked her head to one side. “Sorry bout that, Scootaloo, and it’s just Spitfire right now. Officially I’m not even here.” She cocked an eyebrow past Scipio, and for once in his life, Scipio wished he could completely ignore the necessities of command just so he could turn to see the look on the Crusader’s face.

Sadly, that was impossible if he was to maintain proper discipline. “Not officially, Commander?” Scipio drawled, crossing his talons behind his back. “So, have you come to fight the good fight then?” For an instant, Scipio could feel a surge of excitement through his heart. No matter what their public profile might have suggested, the Wonderbolts were more than just a show group. They were also a scouting unit without peer, the fastest such group in the entire world. He had visions of having not only one of the finest fighting units under his command, but the scouts to match them.

Sadly, Spitfire killed any such dreams with a headshake. “Much as I’d love to come kick some flank with you Captain, I’ve got other responsibilities.” She trotted past him, finally allowing Scipio to turn and regard Scootaloo, whose facial expression had settled into cautious optimism. Spitfire put on a rather sly grin. “Namely, carrying out a mission in Her Majesty’s secret service.” She winked and unfolded a wing to pull out a slim scroll that had been hidden beneath it and extended it to Scootaloo.

Scootaloo took the scroll and split the seal after examining it for a moment. “What’s Shining Armor want that he can’t come and…” She trailed off, her eyes darting across the words on the scroll. “...say it himself,” she finished, half distracted as she continued to slowly unroll the scroll and read through its still mysterious contents. For several long seconds, she was silent and Scipio wondered why Spitfire looked so damn smug. “This for real?” Scootaloo asked as she slowly lowered the scroll, a glint in her eye that Scipio had not seen since before the battle.

Spitfire nodded, cocking her head at Scootaloo with a strange kind of smile. “Yes. I’ve got authorization to do just about anything, so long as the Crown remains publically uninvolved. Right now this is seen as a local issue, and Parliament is not inclined to start a civil war until it can be proven that she’s made war on Equestrian citizens.” There was a distinct pause, and Spitfire snorted softly. “Ridiculous, I know, but that’s politics for you.”

Scootaloo waved that off, which impressed Scipio. “Stupid adults rarely know which way is up.” Scootaloo pressed her hooves together and gave the Wonderbolt a canny look. “More than anything, we need supplies. Food, winter tents and clothing, proper weapons and armor, metal for the Praetorian blacksmiths and potion ingredients for Zecora. Among other stuff.” She waved her hoof airily. “Berry Punch has the list. If you can keep us supplied…” She eyeballed the scroll. “Then I think we can do business.”

Thirty minutes later and Scipio Grifficanus waited outside the tent with his arms crossed and his spear drumming into the ground as he wondered how in Tartarus he’d gotten saddled with guard duty as opposed to being inside, like he ought to have been, along with the rest of the Crusader command staff. Scootaloo’s look had told him she had a reason for it, but damned if she was going to explain with Spitfire still in the room.

So he waited outside as Berry Punch and Zecora quickly ran into the tent, followed shortly by the one they called Pinkie Pie and Mrs. Cake. The words inside never rose above a murmur, but there was a distinct uplifting in the tone at Pinkie Pie’s entrance. Personally, he was not entirely certain that she was as reformed as the White One had said, but he would trust in her judgement… even if he would quietly make certain that there were precautions in place.

Exile to guard duty did give him time to think, which might not have been the best idea right then. He’d had to completely revise his opinion of the Shadow controlled troops. They had shown real tactics and strategy out there, not just animalistic savagery and cunning. That meant that his foes could eventually turn his corrupted citizens into real troops. Leading the Legions against untrained and wild foes was one thing, leading them against trained and capable militia was a far, far different bargain.

Retaking the fortresses would be a matter not for years, but for decades. It would require the rest of his life as Caesar to reunite the Empire unless he could buy help from someplace. Equestria would undoubtedly be worrying about its own affairs, and the Diamond Dogs would demand far too high a price for him to pay. Perhaps he could convince Scootaloo to stay on, and use her fame to attract a new kind of army to fight for the Empire.

As his thoughts roiled, the minutes dragged on, and Scipio kept to his post, only now realizing that Scootaloo must be discussing something sensitive within… something that she needed to make sure only the right ponies heard about. She would, undoubtedly, discuss things with him later, after Spitfire had left and the time had come to form a new strategy. Minutes turned into hours, and as the sun approached its zenith, his boredom was broken not by the Crusader… but the Wonderbolt.

“So. Is it true? Did the kings really choose you as Caesar before they died?” Spitfire’s voice was quiet and serious as she stood outside the tent flaps. Around them the camp bustled and went about its daily routines, the smell of vegetable stew rising up over the din. At first, Scipio wanted to snap back in irritation at that comment until the second part of it penetrated his annoyance. Died? he thought bleakly, a thought he probably should have had weeks ago when no communication had come after the fall of Roam.

One glance at Spitfire told him everything he needed to know though. The soft pity, the hard determination. “I see,” she commented quietly, then nodded a little. “I’m sorry to break the news to you. They took suicide rather than be captured. Their presence held up Umbra’s forces long enough for yours to get away clean.” It made sense, tactically. The kings, no matter how important they might have been as figureheads, meant nothing with a Caesar on the throne. The fact that one amongst them had been his father…

He clenched his eyes shut tightly and took a deep breath through his beak. He would mourn his father another time, when the war had ended and his killers brought to final justice. It was simply one more horrible crime to be piled upon the conscience of the one responsible for all of this. “Thank you for telling me, Commander,” he replied in a quiet, steadfast tone. One he was quite proud of, come to that. The pain in his heart for his father was no greater than the pain for his fellow griffons. There would be time to weep later.

She nodded, once. “Given that, I’ve been authorized to provide you some other information.” She glanced around them for a moment before pitching her voice low. “The western forts remain under siege, and without Twilight to drive them, those already corrupted seem content to wait them out. Some of your citizens have been escaping into Diamond Dog territory, and I’m told the Packs there have taken them in and hidden them without much comment.” She spoke quickly and briskly, and Scipio had to concentrate to keep up as she continued to relay information in a rapid fire voice. “Your legions arrived in Cloudsdale and Stalliongrad, and we’re keeping their presence there a secret at this time. But most importantly of all, Princess Cadence and Luna would like to clandestinely present an offer of alliance to the Empire.”

Scipio nearly dropped his spear in surprise at that, starting in place and staring at her with an agape beak. She half smiled at him, nodding seriously. “The Princess was left with full royal powers, and as such does not need to consult the Parliament on diplomatic matters. With Princess Luna to support her, she has enough clout to produce and sign a treaty of mutual defense, as well as promises for aid when the time comes to reclaim your homeland.” Spitfire turned to regard him fully, her mein most sober and serious. “I’m not going to lie to you, Scipio. We fully anticipate Twilight to attack major Equestrian cities within the next year. We’ve already sent word to the Diamond Dogs and others, seeking military aid, but there’s no guarantees any of them will answer in time. We’re going to need the Legion to hold on.”

Scipio closed his eyes but felt a slow smile cross his beak. With Equestrian aid, there was no doubt they could reconquer the Empire. Especially if the Princesses themselves were prepared to intervene. At last, at the end of the trail, he could see the light of the dawn. “And the Legion you shall have, Spitfire. Inform your Princess that the Caesar stands with Equestria.” It was an easy enough promise to make. They were all in this boat together, as it were, and if they didn’t fight together, they were going to die separately. It also was not hard to realize now why Spitfire was here, though he was surprised she could lead such a double life. “But I would ask what other aid the Equestrian Intelligence Service might offer us?”

Spitfire softly chuckled, shaking her head slowly. “Knew you were a sharp one. Aside from supplies, we’ll do what we can to make sure anypony who wants to fight gets directed here. The only concrete intelligence I can offer aside from that is that Twilight and Umbra have dropped off the map completely.” She frowned a little, rubbing at her chin. “But her forces haven’t. She’s up to some scheme, and we frankly don’t have any clue as to what it might be. I recommend you keep a careful eye on things here and do what you can to keep Winterlight from pulling anything nasty.”

Scipio nodded once. “We’ll do what we can to keep her penned up, but without the bridge over the gorge, that’s going to be a tall order.” He blew out a sigh and tried to visualize the map of the region. “I’ll be honest, Spitfire, we’ve got a numbers issue. What forces we have are elite, but limited. We can disrupt their movements, maybe even pull another raid or two, but a full scale attack isn’t going to happen without moving a few of the Legions or getting more direct support.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She shook her head at that one. “We don’t expect you to wage a war by yourselves. Just slow her down as much as you can. We’ve got other forces coming in with Princess Celestia, and once they arrive we’re going to put together everything we’ve got and finish this. Save your strength for the big showdown.” She reached up and placed a hoof on his shoulder. “And try and keep the kid on an even keel. She’s handling this well so far, but…”

Scipio couldn’t help it. He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry about the Crusader, Spitfire. She has as much support as she could ever hope for.” He glanced towards the tent, tapping his spear butt on the ground. “There’s something special about her, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Spitfire smiled a little more fully this time, but her eyes grew dark. “Yeah. She’s a lot like another pegasus I could name.” Once again, Spitfire glanced around nervously. “I can’t ask you officially, Caesar… but unofficially there’s a particular pegasus I’d like you to look out for. If you can find her… if you can save her…” Spitfire fixed Scipio with a look that was extremely complex, but he could best describe as desperate. “I promise you, I’ll owe you a personal favor.”

Scipio considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Describe her.”

As night fell upon the camp, Scootaloo left the command tent for the first time in three days to find the darkness gently enveloping the world around her. Only carefully lit torches tied to posts provided illumination along with the central camp fire where many of the other ponies sat. They ate and sang and laughed with one another, but for the first time in her life, Scootaloo felt separate from them.

Though she hadn’t said so to anypony else, it hadn’t just been those who had died in the attack that had disturbed her… it had been how easily she’d been willing to take the lives of those they’d been fighting. Some of them could have once been her neighbors, or other citizens in Ponyville. But as she and Crescent Blade had surged through the enemy lines at the gorge, she had felt no pity or remorse as she drove her blade through them.

She had been prepared to kill Captain Winterlight without even a second of hesitation, and even now if she had been given the chance to do so, she would have done it. Never before in her entire life had she felt so alive as she had in the middle of that battle. Every moment she had been but a breath away from dying had been like the greatest stunt she had ever pulled. It had been exhilarating beyond belief, and just the thought of it still sent a surge of sickness into her stomach.

So she turned away from the fire and sought the darker parts of the camp. The soft buzzing of her wings as she rode her shiny new steel scooter past the sentries attracted only the barest glance from them. Where once there had been a faint air of condescension, now there was only solemn respect. None of the ponies treated her even remotely like a little filly anymore, and while Scootaloo sure did like being listened to, it was hard not to forget that she was six or seven years shy of being a real adult by pegasi standards.

She traveled through the darkness, with no particular destination in mind. Only a faint thought that she had lost something in that battle, and what she had gained she did not yet understand. All she knew was the world had changed, seemingly overnight, and so had she. But in the darkness, she found, she was not as alone as she’d thought.

The training grounds should have been empty at that hour, but there was one pony there. Wearing glittering armor a pony wielded a pair of steel blades with the faint aura of magic enveloping them as they danced intricately around her dark form. Scootaloo hauled herself to a stop and just watched Crescent Blade slowly dance with her blades, as graceful as Rarity or Rainbow Dash had ever been at their chosen trades. In time, the blades slowed to a halt, and her surprisingly beautiful voice drifted from the darkness. “Welcome, Chosen of the Sun. How can I serve you?”

Scootaloo shook her head and propped her scooter against one of the wooden posts before trotting toward the sleek pony. “Why do you keep calling me that, Crescent?” It had been an odd title when she’d simply rolled it out the first time they’d met, but now it was starting to creep Scootaloo out a little. She had said she was the ‘Chosen of the Moon’ and that she personally served Princess Luna in any capacity she might have demanded. But Scootaloo had made no such oaths to Celestia… at least, none she remembered.

Crescent chuckled softly, her blades sliding silently home into their sheaths on her back. “Because that is what you are. Light to my Dark.” Her hoof extended in its steel armor and gently pressed into Scootaloo’s chest. “All of my tribe have a unique ability to see into the spiritual world beyond. For most of us, this skill is rarely honed, but I have made a particular study of it in my life.” She tapped at Scootaloo’s chest, a slow smile spreading across her spooky batpony fangs. “Within your heart, Chosen, the very fire of the Sun itself burns intensely.” Crescent cocked her head, her golden yellow eyes glimmering in the faint moonlight. “When you speak to your fellow ponies, it glows brighter still and spreads to anyone who listens with their heart. Against the darkness of the Shadow, you are the flame and spirit which refuses to give in.”

Crescent’s hoof tapped the ever present blade over her shoulder, her grin growing even wider. “The Sun itself guards you and wreaths your blade in power that is anathema to our foe. Just as Tsukiyomi’s power watches over me, so does Amaterasu’s power watch over you. Hence, you must be the Chosen of the Sun as I am the Chosen of the Moon..”

Scootaloo stared and tried to process all of that, but found it to be just a wee bit too much for her to contemplate. She shook it out of her head, deciding that the best thing she could do was head this off before it started to spread around the camp and start even more rumors she didn’t want to deal with. “Then I’d say that makes us equals. Which means I won’t stand on titles, Crescent. My name is Scootaloo.” She extended her hoof and put on her best confident grin.

Crescent Blade gave her a wry look and laughed softly. “Oh, very well. If you insist, Scootaloo.” She shook the hoof firmly before she turned and trotted a few paces away. “I must say, your style of fighting is truly unique. I have never before seen a warrior use anything like your scooter the way you do. It is unpredictable, fast, and quite deadly, in spite of how little you have been trained. So. Why is it you come here in the darkness, Scootaloo?” Her voice had gone soft as she turned, her body framed by the moonlight spilling through the trees and casting a shadow over her face.

Scootaloo stared at her for a moment, realizing belatedly that Crescent was not merely a servant of the Princess, but a warrior in her own right. “Because I’ve changed, Crescent. Because I…” She hesitated only for long enough for her to feel that surge of sickness, forcing the words past her teeth. “I’ve killed somepony now. I don’t even remember who it was I hit when we charged through. I was ready to kill Winterlight without even thinking about it. I’m not supposed to think that way!” The words came out in desperation, and maybe just a little bit crazy.

But Crescent did not bend a look of judgement on her, only one of understanding. “You have become a warrior, Scootaloo. That will change any creature in vast ways.” Her shining blades slipped from their sheaths, and she held them up at the ready in front of her. “Get your scooter and listen to me,” Crescent commanded. Scootaloo did not even think twice, grabbing it from where she’d rested it and mounting it on the training ground. Reflexively, she slammed the painted disc of steel into its place in front of her and waited.

Crescent nodded once. “I shall tell you what my teacher once told me.” Without warning, her blades darted in, and Scootaloo ducked past the blows, drawing her blade an instant later and blocking a swing with the golden glowing blade. It was insane, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to wonder why Crescent Blade had done that. It seemed… natural. “There must be those of us that kill.” Crescent began, moving a step closer. “Those of us who do violence and live in a world built of that violence, so that others might live in peace.”

Crescent struck again, but this time Scootaloo drove herself forward in a sudden burst of speed and forced Crescent to dodge to one side. Scootaloo pulled a perfect hairpin turn and swung her scooter and herself low along the ground under a counterblow. “There must be those of us who stand at the threshold and drive back the darkness,” Crescent continued in a calm, utterly unflappable voice as Scootaloo stared her down. “So that others might never need to know the horrors of war or death.”

The batpony lowered her blades and strode forward slowly. “Look at yourself, Scootaloo. Your heart is racing, and your nerves are afire, but there is no fear in your heart.” Her words cut through the adrenalin, and Scootaloo could not help but realize that she was right. She wasn’t afraid at all, not even a little bit. She was just… ready. Tensed like a crossbow string and ready to spring forward at any moment. “The world has reforged you into what it needs. A warrior, and a knight. To kill is a terrible thing, Scootaloo.” A heavy hoof touched her shoulder, gently glowing blades framing Crescent’s face in light. “But that is why there are those like us. So nopony else need know the heartbreak or tragedy of taking a life.”

Scootaloo felt her breath coming in slow pants, and she nodded once. Put that way, it made a lot of sense, even if she knew she’d never be able to be anything but sick or angry after a fight. Crescent Blade smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek in a sisterly sort of way. “And that is why you serve the Sun, Scootaloo. Even if you do so in silence. Because you will always mourn those that die to your blade, no matter how evil they may have been.” She turned away, stepping back into position a few paces away. “Now, raise your blade again. There will be more battles to come, and you must be ready. Our foe will not be so easy to fight next time we meet her.”

Crescent Blade turned, and grinned fiercely. “Besides. It has been a long time since I have had an apprentice worthy of the name.”

Author's Notes:

Chapter updates coming... fuck, whenever they're done. I'm not even going to try and make a schedule at this point.

Merry Hearthswarming to all of you, and a Happy Blue Deer.