"Tercio! Tercio, wake up!"

The guardsman pushed himself up on a groggy elbow, his mind not yet aware of his surroundings.

"Hastare? What in the name of the heavens--"

"Are you deaf as well as dumb? Do you not hear that?!"

Tercio strained to listen, only to feel the disruption before he heard it, a rumbling that shook the walls and vibrated through the floor tiles. Something was rocking the palace to its very foundation. Within seconds he was alert, the threat of danger in the forefront of his mind.

"What is happening out there?"

"Hell if I know, but it's close to the royal chambers! Hurry up and grab your gear, I'm going to rally the others!"

Hastare was out of his sight immediately, the sound of his frantic hoofsteps and shouted orders echoing through the halls. It would take precious minutes for the Praetorians to respond, time the Princess might not have. Tercio quickly grabbed his sword and shield, not even bothering to strap on his armor, and rushed down the hall to the great central guard chambers. Several guardsmen from another unit were already assembled, still securing their battle uniforms despite not knowing what was truly happening. He stopped in front of them, ignoring their surprised salutes, and pointed to a small group with his sword.

"You, you, and you, come with me! Bring only what is on your body at this very moment!"

"Sir!" they shouted as one, falling in behind him. They looked more like recruits than the elite of the Equestrian military, their clothes hanging from them with half-finished sections of armor strapped to their limbs, but they would fight if they were called to do so. Hastare's training had seen to that.

The ground shook again, a thundering crack of exploding stonework resounding through the cavernous hall. The men murmured with rumors -- it was an invasion, it was a rebellion, it was the work of an arcane user gone mad.

"Silence!" he ordered them. The large, intricate double doors of the palace barracks entrance swung open as the guards saw his small band coming. Another explosion, this one far closer. "Hurry it up!"

Canterlot Gardens, the centerpiece of the Princess' quarters, lay just ahead. Arched ceilings gave way to open sky, and soon the guards were under the moonlit night. That's when he saw them, two figures in the distance dancing and darting around each other in the air. Bright bursts of light flared from their positions, striking the ground and rupturing buildings with each impact.

"...Princess Celestia?" he whispered to himself, wondering if what he was seeing was actually the princess he'd been sworn to protect. The two silhouettes were suddenly much closer than before, flying over buildings at great speed and dipping between glimmering spires in a battle that was hard to even follow. There was a burst of blue and purple energy that shined like a miniature sun, glowing ever brighter. He stared in fascination even as it appeared to elongate.

RUN.

A voice in the back of his mind, firm yet familiar and incredibly urgent. His eyes widened briefly at the sensation, and he idly realized that the others with him had the same look. As one they scattered in different directions, but the warning had come too late. The beam of dark, terrible energy slashed through a near-by tree, rending it to splinters, before it found its mark -- one of the unfortunate stallions caught the force of the blast full-on, exploding in a shower of gore and bone fragments. Tercio threw his hands up to shield himself, his arms and palms stinging from the energy of the blast. A bloody, scorched crater marked the place where his comrade used to be.

Distantly, Tercio heard a comrade call out to the lost guard in shock and despair. His ears rang from the blast and he was covered in blood and bits of flesh, yet still his eyes were drawn skyward to the battle. Celestia was fighting a terrible fight against a winged unicorn he'd never seen before, one that was as dark as the night itself and covered in armor that shone with an otherworldly blue light. He could only look on, helpless, and hope that the pegasi were able to help in time. Another blast roared past his head and obliterated a column behind him. Celestia placed herself between the unknown enemy and her loyal guardsmen, hovering in place with great flaps of her wings.

"Please, control yourself! It doesn't have to be this way!"

"If you would risk yourself for these insignificant creatures," the dark voice answered, "then you may die with the rest of them!"

The figure raised its head, energy coalescing at the tip of its horn. Frantically, Tercio looked around for cover, finding none that would protect him from another such blast. Celestia threw herself bodily at the threat, knocking the figure onto its side and sending the roiling blast blazing into the sky.

"Stop this madness at once, Luna!"

Luna. The princess' sister. She was the dark figure? It didn't seem possible; Luna had always been the steadfast ruler of the night, always so willing to speak with him and his men, no matter the situation. It couldn't be Luna!

"There is no more Luna, my dear sister!" The corrupted Luna spit out the word like it was poison on her tongue. "You will address me as Nightmare Moon, or you shall suffer with them! You and your pathetic subjects will kneel before me, or many more will join the ranks of the dead!" A beam of yellow light slammed into the princess that now called herself Nightmare Moon, sending her into a tumble she quickly recovered from. She let out a growl of frustration and flew overhead at great speed, ignoring the remaining guards and focusing on Celestia. The dueling sisters disappeared from view, further explosions marking their battle.

Tercio shook himself from his stupor, resolving to find and help his princess in any way he could. The two guards with him seemed to be of the same mind, and soon they were galloping back down the long hallway to the southern palace entrance -- and the throne room. Another exchange of magical energy sounded above them, and there was a loud crash as something hit the floor in the next room. An armored guard was already trying to open the massive doors, pushing with all of his might.

"Get that door open!" Tercio shouted as he approached.

"I'm trying, sir, but it's jammed!"

Muffled voices spoke to each other. One of them sounded weak, defeated. Celestia's.

"Quickly, as one!" The guards at his side braced themselves against the door.

"As one!" they echoed, the collective grunts of exertion blocking out all but the shaking of the floor and walls, but the door would not budge. It groaned as their combined strength strained against it, but still it held. "Again, lads! Agaaaain!" Ever so slightly, the door gave. They pushed again, and it cracked open. Another push, and it was nearly wide enough to fit an arm through. Voices flooded through the gap, drowned out by their efforts. "Once more, swords at the ready!"

With a final shove the door flung open. Tercio was on his feet and running even as the stallions behind him scrambled for a grip on the tile. Just ahead of him were Celestia and Luna, locked in a battle, a beam of unfathomable energy flowing between them.

Celestia spoke to her sister, though Tercio could hear no words.

In an instant the throne room was awash in brilliant, yellow light. Luna, Nightmare Moon, the co-ruler of Equestria, simply vanished. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a streak of light take off into the night sky, rushing toward the full moon. He wanted to rush over to his princess, to make sure she was unharmed, but he could not find the words to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, Luna," Celestia sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

Alone in her chambers, Princess Celestia paced in front of her mirror. She looked gaunt and tired, a sad shadow of her typical appearance. Her personal guard had expressed their concerns, and she had to admit they had reason to worry; she hadn't eaten much of anything in the last month, and had slept even less. Raising and lowering the moon took extra time and effort out of her day, time she didn't have, made especially worse by the process being so deceptively intricate. At least it occupied her mind. The worst times came when she was without a task, without a duty to fulfill or a dignitary to host. It was at those times that she thought about Luna, thought endlessly on the details and filled her every moment with questions. Questions that, try as she might, she could not find an answer for. What had truly happened? What was the catalyst of Luna's horrific change into Nightmare Moon? Why had she turned away from the very sibling she had spent the last three hundred years of her life with? The very knowledge that there was, most likely, not a proper answer for any of her worries ate away at her very being and sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach.

And so she refused food and drink; it made her sick. She refused sleep; there came only nightmares. She refused company; it reminded her of better times. And yet she had a duty to her nation, a duty to every living soul in Equestria. Despite her pain and her anguish, she smiled and waved from her balcony every morning after raising the sun. She conversed with her friends, such as they were, when they called on her. She entertained rulers and dignitaries and guests. Equestria, and for that matter, the entire world, would not simply stop because she grieved. A million citizens counted on her, and so she carried on, day and night, without fail.

"Your Highness?" A muffled voice called out from behind her door, followed by a quiet knock. Celestia quickly looked herself over, frowning at the sight of herself, then answered the door with a practiced smile. A pretty young mare stood before her, wrapped in a shimmering, gold-laced cloak of sheer white fabric. "Good afternoon, Princess. Are you well today?"

"As well as can be expected, my dear Regalia. Thank you for asking. What can I help you with?"

Regalia bowed her head. "Princess, I bring word of the arrival of Empress Elinwynn of the Cervidaen Hegemony. She awaits you in your throne room."

Another dignitary. Many had come to pay their respects and offer condolences after the banishment of the royal sister, Elinwynn included. Celestia wondered what could possibly bring her back after only a few days.

"Of course. Tell Empress Elinwynn I shall be in attendance shortly."

"Very well." Regalia curtsied promptly and trotted away, down the spiral staircase of the tower. Her hoof-falls echoed through the corridors. Inside her personal quarters, Celestia was already preparing herself to meet with the foreign leader. A quick flash of magic and her ethereally flowing mane and tail once again shone with the radiance and majesty of the sun -- a look that, not long ago, was as much a part of her as the wings on her body and the horn on her head. Now, though, some of the shine had dissipated with her spirits.

She levitated her crown and jeweled breastcollar into place and applied a light powdering of makeup under her eyes to hide the bags, and once again she looked the part of the most powerful mare in Equestria.

Empress Elinwynn was waiting for her as she entered the throne room. The two rulers bowed to each other and feigned smiles; it was all for show, and both of them knew it, but neither was impolite enough to break etiquette.

"Welcome to Equestria, Empress," Celestia said by way of greeting.

"Thank you, Princess," the other responded. The ruler of the deerfolk was slightly shorter than Celestia, and struck a more petite figure in her emerald-colored shawl. Her tall, slightly swept-back antlers were decorated with lengths of gold-trimmed emerald cloth that sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows.

"I must admit to being surprised by your presence, Empress. It is not a short journey from the Cervidaen homelands. What brings you back so soon?"

"Please, call me Elinwynn," the empress said softly. "But yes, let me reassure you that I have merely come to seek your clarification on something. I thought it prudent to return to you as soon as possible."

"Oh?"

"Indeed so. You see, it has come to my attention that your military has been massing along the eastern border of the Whitetail woods. You can see how this could be construed as...less than diplomatic, yes?"

Celestia cocked her head. A massing along the Whitetail woods? That didn't make any sense. As far as she knew, the only military units in the area were the 2nd and 5th Cohorts, but even they were many miles away from the border. "I assure you, you must be mistaken, Elinwynn. Whitetail is a neutral state, and I would not dream of impeding on its sovereign right to self-rule, especially with an army." She began to pace back and forth, her decorative shoes clacking on the tile. "You know as well as I do that Equestria has been at peace for several hundred years. Why on earth would I break such a long-lived peace?"

Elinwynn shrugged. "That's really the question, isn't it?"

Under her practiced, congenial smile, Celestia fumed; she'd always disliked the Cervidaen rulers, as far back as she could remember. Hundreds of years of entitled, arrogant, passive-aggressive empresses, all cut from the same cloth. Elinwynn was no different. If anything, she'd shown herself to be even more spoiled than her mother and grandmother before her.

"I apologize, Empress, I did not realize such a thing was happening. Likely it is a case of maneuvers by the Guard, or some other sort of training exercise. I assure you: I shall see that they are a fair distance from the Whitetail border. After all, we wouldn't want to ruin our friendship with your great nation, nor that of our mutual friend."

"Of course, Princess. I'm glad you're able to see reason." She smiled, smug and self-satisfied. "Truly you are wise with your years." A small object levitated from the bag at the deer's side, floating between them. "I would like you to have this, as a token of our continued cooperation. I realize a simple trinket is unfitting of royalty, but it holds some...personal value, shall we say. I want you to have it."

Celestia inspected the porcelain object, a pony and a deer in a Gemini position, mirroring the constellation that was so familiar to all who turned their eyes skyward at night. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Elinwynn."

"You are very welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long journey ahead of me. And don't fret: we'll be seeing each other soon, I assure you." She paused, then added, "I feel I would be remiss if I did not apologize. We have known each other for a long time, wouldn't you say?"

"I would," Celestia nodded. "As have the last four generations of your family."

Elinwynn smiled softly. "I envy your long life, Princess. You have surely come to know my family better than even myself. I make no qualms about it being known that I protect my people, but at times I can be, shall we say, somewhat harsh. For that, I apologize."

Surprised by the apology, Celestia bowed to the Cervidaen ruler. "You are most generous, Empress. I accept your apology, and I assure you I do not hold such a thing against you."

"Thank you, Celestia. With that said, I shall take my leave. Until next time?"

"I look forward to it, as always."

"As always." Elinwynn exchanged bows and polite nods, and once more she was gone, flanked by a group of soldiers on either side. Celestia watched her head out of view, then immediately dropped her forced smile and let out a frustrated exhale. Politics and facades. That's what it all came down to. Nothing had changed in hundreds of years, and she doubted the next several hundred would be any different.

"Centurion Phalanx," she called into the hallway, "I would have a word with you, please."

The battle-scarred soldier marched inside and saluted smartly. "Your Highness?"

"Centurion, I have somewhat of a strange question. Do you know of any Cohort or Century massing along the eastern border of the Whitetail woods?"

He looked confused, gazing off into space with his one good eye as he considered his vast knowledge of military information. "I am afraid not, Princess. Elements of the 2nd and 5th Cohorts are in the general vicinity, yes, but besides a token Legion outpost -- the 44th, if I recall correctly -- there is nothing of note that I am aware of. Why do you ask?"

Celestia peered down the long hallway leading from the throne room, as if expecting Elinwynn to be standing there. "I ask because my honored guest seems to believe we're doing exactly that. She is under the impression that we are aggressively massing for some sort of attack."

Ardent Phalanx chuckled. "Then it would appear her information is wrong."

"There are no maneuvers being partaken in the area? No training camps?"

"None of significance, Your Highness. We maintain a light presence, of course, but nothing I would describe as threatening."

"I had figured as much," she replied with a light smile. "Thank you for the confirmation, Phalanx. That will be all."

"Yes, Your Highness. Feel free to call on me any time, should the need arise."

With that, Phalanx turned and trotted back to his posting. Celestia knew there would be no logical reason for such a large force as the deer empress claimed to be massing anywhere near them, much less along the borders of a neutral state. And yet something ate away at her, gnawing at the back of her mind. Elinwynn had seemed so insistent, so sure of herself. Perhaps it was worth looking into. Deciding such a thing was too important to leave to chance, Celestia levitated over a quill and a roll of parchment and began to write. The 44th Legionaries were the closest to Whitetail. With luck, the scroll would reach them within a day. Then, she hoped, she might have some real answers.

Silver Oak plodded along the rough dirt road, his sandal-like marching boots crunching the loose dirt with every step. For countless hours he had marched, watching the fading sun give way to the darkness of night. The familiar trails and surrounding forest were comforting during the day, but now they seemed enveloping and claustrophobic. The chill of the night air bit at his face and prickled his skin, and he longed for the fires of the encampment and the hot meals that would no-doubt be waiting for him and his soldiers upon their return.

It had been two days since he'd received an urgent letter, flown in via pegasus courier, from the princess herself. For reasons he was not fully made aware of, Celestia was concerned that Whitetail may be in danger, and she had asked him to take a small group and conduct a reconnaisance mission to the nearest town in the city-state's land -- River Run. And so he gathered seven of his comrades and prepared for a long journey. They marched day and night, only stopping for rest or meals. Within a matter of hours River Run would be in view, and he might finally get off this damnable road.

"Decanus?" His recruit's voice broke his concentration. Silver Oak grumbled and turned to face his underling.

"Yes, meat? What is it?"

"Sir, if I may ask, what would make Princess Celestia believe Whitetail is in danger?"

"I don't know. It is not my place to know. I simply follow orders. As do you."

"Yes, sir," the earth pony said quickly. There was an awkward silence, and then, "but just hear me out on this..."

The stallions in their formation groaned and swore at the inquisitive vexillarius -- their standard bearer. The stylized sun and crossed swords of the 44th Legion were proudly displayed on a banner pole attached to a saddle on the young soldier's back.

"Give it a break, Ceraunius," one of them said. "Didn't they teach you anything in the Guard? You don't question orders. If the decanus tells you to do something, you'd damn well better do it."

"I heard the decanus once found out that somepony wasn't listening to his commands," another voice added, "and the decanus shoved a sword through his ear."

"It wasn't a sword, you idiot, it was his cock."

"What? That doesn't seem physically possible."

"That's what the poor sod kept screaming as his ear canal was violated."

"Enough, all of you!" Silver Oak shouted, instantly silencing the group. Decades of service and discipline made it easy to hide the laughter that wanted to burst out from such ridiculous claims. As far as his soldiers knew, he was completely unamused by the anecdote. "You are not being paid to ramble on like school fillies! You are legionaries! Act like it!" He waited until he was sure they were properly listening before he continued. "Princess Celestia has deemed River Run a place of interest. Why, or how, is none of your concern. We are simply to recce the area and report our findings. Nothing more, nothing less. Understood?"

"Yes, Decanus!" they shouted as one.

"Good. Keep your mouths shut and perhaps the entirety of Whitetail won't hear us coming, old gods willing."

They marched in relative silence for another hour, perhaps two -- it was hard to tell with the dense forest obscuring the moon. "Relative" was the operative word: their steel and iron armor rustled against their tunics and clattered as they trotted, scaring off many a forest creature and scattering flights of resting birds. It was a wonder, Silver Oak mused, that the whole of River Run hadn't found them out.

They were a mere twenty minutes from their objective when they spotted a distressing sight: Equestrian Guard marching in the opposite direction, with no hint of formation of order. What was the Guard doing out here? Had Celestia sent them orders as well?

"Contubernium, halt!" The formation came to a stop, each of the legionaries craning their necks to get a better view of the silhouetted ponies in their path. Silver Oak galloped over to the leader, finding the guard to be covered from head to hoof in spattered blood. "Decanus Silver Oak of the 44th Legion," he said by way of introduction, lifting a foreleg to his chest in a salute. "What in the name of Celestia happened to you, guardsman? Are you wounded?" The guardsman said nothing for a time, idly kicking a hoof in the dirt. "Guardsman, I asked you a question. Are you wounded?"

"No," the soldier finally said. "We are not wounded." A further inspection revealed all of them, at least a dozen, to be similarly soiled. Bloodied swords hung from holster rings at the sides, flecked and streaked with gore. "We ran into some bandits along the path to River Run."

"Bandits? I was not aware of any bandit activity this close to a major settlement." Silver Oak's practiced eye began to notice little details that were out of place; a guard wearing a chainmail shirt, but no armor overlay. Greaves with no tunic or pteruges skirt. A galea-style helmet without the nose and ear guards. They looked like a rabble, a bunch of lowly militia.

"It would seem you are misinformed, Centurion," one of the guards in the back answered. Silver eyed him pensively. "You let this soldier speak out of line? Where is your commanding officer?" He was suddenly struck by a realization -- the guard hadn't even addressed him by the proper rank, despite the bars and shield adorning his armor's display sash. "What is your name, guardsman? ANSWER ME!"

A sharp pain shot through his side. He instinctively turned to face the threat, only to see a hoof-strapped folding blade jammed into his ribs. He looked at the offending guard in shock, momentarily losing his bearing. But only for a moment. Countless thousands of hours of drill and training kicked in and he pulled himself away from the blade, watching it come loose, slicked red with his own blood. Anger welled within him as he deflected a second stab with his greaves and fluidly pulled his gladius from its sheath, clenched tightly in his mouth. The guard was fast, but Silver Oak was faster. A sideways swipe deflected off the buckler shield strapped to his right foreleg, and he surged forward and bashed the offending soldier in the face, knocking his head back. A quick thrust to the exposed neck sent his short sword carving through both sides of the other's throat; the pony screamed and began to gurgle on his own blood, falling limp to the floor as he clutched uselessly at the holes in his flesh that gushed blood in thick, red streams.

"TRAITORS!" Silver Oak yelled, grabbing his wounded side. The other, opposing guards had drawn their swords and were charging him with little regard for military discipline. He quickly fell back to his own stallions, who were standing with their mouths agape. "Fucking traitors!" he called back to the charging guards. "I'll see you all hang! Legionaries, defensive positions!" He hobbled into the center of the rapidly erected shield wall, swearing to himself at the blood that now ran down his side and dripped from his belly.

"Decanus, you're wounded!"

"No shit!" Silver Oak snapped back. "Stay at the ready!"

"What the hell is going on?" Someone asked.

"Why did they attack you?!"

"I said, stay at the ready!" There was a loud 'thwack' as a spear plunged into one of the tall, curved rectangular shields. Its iron head jabbed through, but failed to penetrate far enough to wound the stallion holding it. Another spear impacted the shield wall, and another. "Rank amateurs, all of them!"

"This is fucked! Those are our own damn brothers!"

"Any who would draw on a legionary is not your brother, Swift Strike!" Smaller, more rapid impacts began to hit their shields; the guards were firing arrows now. "Formatioooon, forwaaard!" As one the legionaries began to march with their shields interlocked, slowly advancing on the group of traitorous guards. The rain of arrows and spears intensified. Someone shouted in pain as an arrow found a hole in the formation and embedded itself in his foreleg, but still the wall held. "Princepes, ready pila!" The second line of the formation reached for the throwing spears resting across their backs, tucking them into the small of their forelegs. Silver Oak waited for a lull in the barrage; a seconds-long break was all he needed. "Hastati, drop!" With practiced precision the upper portion of the shield wall lowered for a scant few heartbeats, just long enough for the second line to let loose a volley of pila. The barbed throwing spears arced through the air, coming down with tremendous force and penetrating through armor, mail and flesh with ease. Four spears were thrown, and four traitors to Equestria fell at once, screaming and grabbing at the spears that had impaled them. The remaining guards began to panic, the barrage of arrows and spears coming to a stop as they dropped their ranged weapons and began to fall back in a panic. Clearly they had underestimated the Legion.

"Formatioooon! BREAK!"

With a great scream of fury and battle lust the legionaries dropped their wall and tucked their shields onto their backs, breaking into a line that charged at the enemy in full gallop, swords at the ready. Some of the victims of the spear-throw were still shouting in agony on the ground; deep, vicious stabs through their chests and necks ended their screams, eight swords finding their marks without even stopping.

A legionary fell to the ground as an arrow found its mark and plunged into his chest, but still the line continued its advance. Several of the guardsmen turned to fight their pursuers, bloodied swords at the ready. They struck swiftly and with greater skill than Silver Oak would have expected otherwise, cutting a deep gash in one of his retinue and slicing a leg out from under the poor standard bearer. He delivered a savage, crushing buck with his powerful hind legs to the closest guardsman, caving the stallion's head in with a sickening crunch. Silver Oak sliced his throat just to be sure.

Something cut into his flank, thudding against bone with an impact that made his head swim. He glanced back and saw the shaft and fletching of an arrow sticking out. That was when the pain hit. It started like a small fire around the wound, then quickly spread to his entire right side. He clenched his teeth and grunted against the burning, stabbing impact, hobbling even as he continued to order his stallions.

"Contubernium, reform! Circular wall!"

Arrows were starting to fly in from the surrounding forest now, additional traitors that had been waiting in the flanks for the opportunity to strike. The young vexillarius, still lying on the ground and bleeding profusely from a severed leg and punctured chest, attempted to drag himself to the safety of the forming shield wall. His movement stopped when half a dozen arrows tore into his body and ripped through the banner still attached to his back.

"Ceraunius, no!" Swift Strike called out to his battle brother, wanting more than anything to break formation and kill the nearest traitor with his bare hooves.

"There is nothing we can do for him! Maintain formation or we'll be joining him in the afterlife!"

Now down two stallions, and with many of the remaining wounded, the protective dome of shields could not hold forever. They huddled together, a mass of bodies and iron and wood, the hail of projectiles slowly wearing them down.

"We're going to die here, aren't we?" Swift Strike asked his superior as he clutched at the deep gash in his side. Silver Oak searched for something to say, some words of comfort, but he could find none. Yes, they were going to die here, struck down by what appeared to be their own comrades, and no one would know about it. Not for several more days, when they were due to return. Unless...

"I must ask of you one last favor, my brothers," Silver Oak said with all of the confidence he could muster. "We must find our way back to Equestrian soil. Someone must know of what's happened to us. On my command, we will break formation and rush the nearest archers to our east. If we can make it through their lines, we can make all speed for the encampment." A quick peek under his shield revealed the eastern line to number less than two dozen strong. It could work. "Do not stop, not for me, not for anyone or anything. Understood?"

"Yes, Decanus!" they answered as one.

"Understood?!"

"YES, DECANUS!"

"Then may Celestia watch over us." His flank still burned from the arrow. His blade wound still bled a dark crimson. But he would fight. He called upon the very last of his strength for one last shout.

"LEGIOOOON! CHAAAARGE!"

Once again the shield wall broke, the legionaries dropping their heavy shields to the ground to gallop faster. A volley of arrows answered their battle cry, and two of the legion's number skidded to a stop, dead where they'd fallen. Silver Oak tried to keep up with them, but he was too old, too wounded, and too tired. Another arrow dug into his back and he tumbled end over end, his helmet rolling away and disappearing behind a tree. Weakly, he forced his head up to look at the charging stallions he'd cared so much for. The line of survivors crashed into the formation of archers like a great wave, scattering their number as one traitor after another fell to the relentless strikes of Equestria's finest soldiers. Six, ten, fifteen were sliced and stabbed and gored and beheaded. But the charge was doomed. The surrounding forces began firing into the ranks of their own stallions, desperate to kill the legionaries. One by one Silver Oak's squad fell. Some tried to push themselves back up, only to be finished off by the blades and arrows of pursuing traitor guards. By some miracle, a single legionary broke free of the mob and managed to rush into the cover of a copse of trees. Silver Oak smiled weakly as he recognized the pony: Swift Strike. He had made it, at least that far.

At least Equestria will know of what happened here.

Guards took off after the fleeing legionary, shouting to each other. With some luck, they would never catch him. Content in knowing that one of his number had made it, Silver Oak let his tired body rest on the cold ground. He felt his heart pumping the very life blood from his body. He felt the chill wind flow over his skin and coat. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, a spreading warmth flowing through his veins and cradling him in a blanket of serenity.

And then...he felt nothing.