"Krosus!"

A booming voice sounded from the entrance to the Praetorian barracks, startling Tercio and making him drop his book on the ground as he scrambled to stand up from his bunk. He recognized the voice, and did not look forward to speaking with the owner of it.

"Yes, sir! Coming, sir!"

Clad in a simple tunic and sandals, he ran to the front of the room and saluted with a closed fist over his heart. Standing before him was the imposing figure of Imperator Stonewall, a hard-bitten old earth pony soldier with graying facial hair and a dark brown coat, dressed from muzzle to dock in golden armor. He struck Tercio as someone who was utterly committed to the military life, and despite Stonewall being -- so far -- an unerring hard-ass, he had to respect him for such.

It didn't make it any easier to report to him.

"Centurion Krosus reports, sir!"

"So it would seem." He pulled a scroll from a saddle bag, unfurling it and giving it a once-over. "Outstanding marks in personal combat training with shield and sword, as well as pilum and ballista use...fairly strong leadership skills, a good grasp of tactical awareness...I've seen worse. I've also seen better. Says here you were with the Royal Guard. How was that?"

"It was just fine, sir."

"Bullshit. The Royal Guard is boring as everyone knows it. Bunch of pansy-asses sitting on street corners and doing fuck-all, if you ask me."

"Uh, well I--"

"That wasn't a question."

"Yes, sir."

Stonewall stared at him for what felt like a long time.

"So...you're that strange-looking creature I've heard so much about. What the hell are you supposed to be, anyway? A hairless monkey who's learned to talk?"

"From what I understand, sir, I'm a 'human'. What that means, exactly, I'm not sure. I seem to be somewhat of an oddity."

"No shit. Just look at you. All those lanky limbs, no tail...do you have a destiny mark, at least?"

Tercio could just barely see the bottom of a magical image on the imperator's haunches -- some sort of tower shield.

"No, sir. I don't believe so."

"Well can you fly?"

"No wings, sir."

"Magic?"

"No, sir."

"Well what the fuck can you do, Krosus?"

Tercio struggled to find something to say. In a way, he considered himself to be closest to an earth pony, relying on strength and innovation over magic or flight. It would have to do.

"I can fight, sir."

Stonewall nodded at the answer with a grunt, apparently satisfied.

"Good enough, I say. Magic is a bunch of bullshit anyway. Real stallions don't need fancy tricks, just a blade and their own wits." He lifted a hoof and pointed to Tercio's chest. "Disrobe."

"...sir?"

"You heard me, Krosus. Disrobe."

"I'm not quite sure I--"

"That was an order, Centurion."

Realizing he was not going to win, Tercio unfastened the cloth belt of his tunic and stripped the garment from his body, dropping it on the floor beside him.

"I said disrobe. What part of that did you not understand?" Tercio was about to speak up when he was interrupted by a decidedly impatient Stonewall. "Your undergarments, Krosus, get rid of them!"

A few seconds later Tercio stood stark naked, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Ponies had always had no qualm about a lack of clothing, generally feeling just fine about trotting around in the buff, but they had a natural covering; Tercio just felt exposed and awkward. He counted his blessings that none of the other praetorians were around to see him like this.

"That's better," Stonewall said. He prodded Tercio with a hoof, jabbing at various parts of his body. "Good musculature in your limbs...torso seems to be in good shape, though your waist could use some tightening up...decently defined physique...strong legs, good for marches." The old imperator nodded decisively. "Well, at least I don't have to worry about you dying on me any time soon. At least, not from being a fat slob."

"Uh, thank you, sir."

"Mmhmm. Alright, Krosus, you can put your clothing back on if it bothers you that much."

He did so. Gladly.

"If you're going to join the ranks of the Praetorians there's a few ground rules you need to observe. I suggest you listen, for I am only going to say them once."

"Yes, sir, of course."

"Good. As you may have noticed, we're a little different from the rest of the Equestrian military here. Primarily, we don't address each other by rank, or call one another 'sir'."

"...oh. Uh, my apologies, I didn't know--"

"Excluding new meat like you, Krosus. We praetorians are utterly devoted to serving and protecting the princesses -- or rather, just Celestia now -- but if you want to be one of us then you have to earn it. It's a simple system, so even a dog like yourself should be able to understand it. It goes like this: If you see a praetorian with a purple cloak, like so," he raised his own with a hoof for emphasis, "that praetorian is 'sir' to you. Any other color? Well, that just means they're untested mud-suckers. Like you. Follow me so far?"

"Yes, sir."

He thought of his golden-yellow cloak, suddenly feeling less eager to wear it around.

"If you earn your purple cloak, then you may address your fellow praetorians by their names. Not until then. Feel free to speak with other useless pigs like yourself without the formalities, however, because you're both equally worthless."

The imperator began to pace back and forth, his armor quietly clanking as he walked.

"Life in the 105th is ever-changing. One moment we may be serving as Princess Celestia's personal bodyguard at a visit with the commoners, and the next we may be fighting off some asshole who's gotten it in his mind that he's going to be the instrument of revolution or some happy horse shit like that. Most likely, though, you will be standing in front of the throne room's doors for the whole day. And you'll be doing it a lot. That's why you're here -- so we can leave the real duties to those who have earned it."

"Sir, if I may ask..."

"What is it, meat?"

"Is there a general schedule we adhere to? In the Royal Guard we--"

"In the Royal Guard you were a glorified foal sitter. We don't have a real schedule, per se, but the day's key events are posted with as much forward notice as we can get. There are only a few, real constants: You will awaken just before the princess raises the sun, and you will go to bed before she begins to move the moon over the horizon. Sometimes you'll pull night duty. You will be on duty six days a week, with the seventh being open to...whatever it is your type does on your off days. I don't give a damn what you do with your free time, so long as you're ready by the next morning." He stopped pacing before adding, "and before you ask, meals will be mid-morning, mid-afternoon, and early night. I expect you to remember this, for I am not in the habit of repeating myself, and I become greatly displeased when I have to do so. Any questions?"

Tercio shook his head. "No, sir. I believe that's clear enough."

"Excellent. Maybe you're smarter than you look after all. The rest of the Praetorian Guard will be back soon, so I suggest you ready your equipment. If you've any questions they will most likely be able to answer them for you." Stonewall stood ramrod-straight and pressed a hoof over his chest. "Honor to the Princess."

"Honor to the Princess," Tercio repeated with the same gesture. He remained at attention as the Imperator returned to the hallway, only allowing himself to relax when he heard the hoofsteps fading. With a sigh he sat on the edge of his bunk, pulling his helm from the post near his equipment chest. Fourteen years in the military, and suddenly he felt like a no-rank recruit all over again.

"There must be something you can do, Elinwynn. The whitetail will listen to you, you're practically blood-related."

For the last half-hour, Princess Celestia had tried, and failed, to gain headway with the Empress of Cervidae. The leader of the deer hegemony had been infuriatingly calm, brushing off accusations of inaction as if they were annoying flies. Celestia wondered why she even bothered, but the thought of more ponies dying to whitetail blades pushed her to try.

"Celestia, my dear friend, it is as I've already said: The aggressive actions taken by the Equestrian military prior to this conflict do not speak to your usually docile nature. What were the whitetail to think of such a thing?"

"Docile?" Celestia stomped a hoof on the marble floor; she had begun to lose her temperament and practiced tone and, though she knew it, she found herself not caring as much as she would have otherwise thought. "That's the word you choose to describe my rule? Docile?"

Elinwynn laughed, a dismissive and infuriating gesture.

"You say that as if it were a bad thing. Most nations could only hope to have such a long history of peace. Such peace comes with a price, though. Obviously military strength is not your strong point, as evidenced by the forces of Whitetail itself pushing into your lands."

"If you're going to insult me, Elinwynn, then at least do so without cloaking it behind a veneer of civility. I grow tired of such games."

"I am no more insulting you than I am stating the obvious, my dear Princess. Please, control your outbursts." Elinwynn took a sip from her cup, levitating it back to the glass table as she finished. "Whitetail has never been the most stable nation, even at the best of times. Surely you can understand their perception of guards in your nation's armor slaughtering their civilians, then a pony assassinating their leader. All evidence pointed to Equestria, whether or not there is truth behind the rumors that you orchestrated such a thing."

"I do not appreciate such rumors, and I would ask you to keep such filth away from this room. Do you really think I would do such a thing? Do you think I am capable of such a thing?"

"In my experience, anyone is capable of anything given the right circumstances. That said...no, I do not believe you would attack Whitetail for no reason."

Celestia let out a deep breath. "That is the first sensible thing I've heard you say today."

"Regardless, the fact now stands that your nation is at war. Whitetail has no reason to back down, and indeed, they could use their current justification to push further outward, possibly even into Cervidaen territory. As such, I've placed the Imperial army on high alert. Simply a precaution, of course."

"I'm sure." Celestia walked to the large, hanging banner of Equestria's lands, looking upon it with the knowledge that she may very well lose if things took a turn for the worse. "What do the people of Cervidae think of this conflict? I imagine the majority of them will back their Whitetail cousins..."

"Most do, yes," Elinwynn answered, "but there are more ponies in Cervidae than you may think. Don't forget: Long before Whitetail existed as its own state, we were nations that shared a border. You may think us barbaric, Celestia, but that could be no further from the truth."

"Barbaric? That's utter nonsense and you know it."

Aside from the "indentured servants", state-sanctioned combat rings, execution of dissenting voices, and ruthlessness in combat, Celestia thought to herself. She'd never been one to back Cervidae's chosen government, but attempting to negotiate an alliance was better than potentially letting her own nation fall to Whitetail forces. She'd be damned if that would happen on her watch, though.

"Perhaps," Elinwynn shrugged, "but we're getting off topic. Let's just cut to the chase, shall we? You want military assistance from Cervidae. That's the real reason for your calling upon me, isn't it?"

Celestia cringed inwardly. She was not about to beg, but in such dire times she was not above swallowing her pride and asking for help.

"Yes. That's why I've asked you to speak with me. You can understand why. If you were in my position, would you not do the same?"

"I might. Then again, I might not. I honestly cannot say. What I can say, however, is much simpler to decide: No."

"No? That's it?"

"As I said, it was a simple decision. I cannot turn this conflict into our war as well as yours. Most of Cervidae is already standing behind the Whitetail as is. You should see the scrolls I receive on a daily basis, practically begging me to join Whitetail and go to war with Equestria. My people may be understanding and far more intelligent than the average, but when they look at the Whitetail they see themselves. The same cannot be said for their more...equine...cousins. I am sorry, Princess, but I cannot devote our military to a conflict that will be so uniformly unpopular."

Just as Celestia had feared. She knew it was a long shot, in every sense of the word, but she had to try. Still...she couldn't help but feel disappointed and somewhat betrayed. Cervidae was by no means close friends with Equestria's government, but at least back when Luna was around she could have been of no small degree of help.

Luna. She had a way with words that ran counter to everything Celestia practiced, and yet when the royal siblings focused on something it was all but assured that things would work out for the best. Now Celestia was on her own, and no amount of wishful thinking would bring her sister back.

"I'm greatly disappointed to hear such a thing, Empress, but I understand. All I ask is that you do what you can to convince the Whitetail senate that Equestria is not at fault for their horrific losses. I wish for nothing but peace."

"Of course. I shall convene with the senators as soon as I can, though I can make no great promises." Elinwynn bowed her head respectfully, or at least formally. "I wish you and Equestria only the best, Princess Celestia."

Three leagues outside of Vindfell, on the edges of Equestria's western border, a lone figure darted between the trees of the dense forest. He moved almost silently, a shadow in the early morning mists. His pursuers did not.

They shouted for him to stop, demanded he accept his fate, cursed him in their ugly, coarse language. There were five of them, moving at a full gallop to catch up to him. Slowly but surely they were catching up to him, and he knew that it wouldn't be long before more showed up. An insufferable flying pony had darted off as soon as they'd spotted him, no doubt to gather more of their incompetent, inferior number. He cursed their brutish kind and pressed himself against the trunk of a large pine tree, his breath heavy from exertion. They were getting closer. He would have to think quickly.

It wasn't long before the Equestrians had caught up to his position. They surrounded him, blades and shields drawn. They taunted and mocked him as he backed against the tree trunk, thinking him defeated and cowardly. His sharp mind prioritized the ponies -- highest rank standing to his right, with the others barely more than recruits. They were laughing and knocking him around the head with their hooves. He backed up further against the tree, waiting for an opening, a slightest moment's hesitation or distraction.

The leader, his head adorned with a red-crested helmet, demanded his surrender. Surrender, or death. The choice was easy. The tall buck lowered his head in defeat, letting one of the guards strip the helmet from his head. The Equestrian turned to look at his commander, and that was when the deer warrior struck. With a powerful stomp of his forelegs a pair of conical, incredibly sharp blades sprung out from the upper segments of his leg armor -- one on each side. They were half as long as a war blade and moved with the motion of his body, and before the guards could react he had pushed himself off of the thick tree trunk with a burst of power from his hind legs. The pony who had taken his helm was the first to fall, the twin blades of the deer's armor slicing into his neck and heart with practiced precision; the guard fell dead on the spot, bleeding from twin puncture wounds. A quick turn let the deer kick his hind legs out and buck the nearest guard hard in the jaw; he heard the bones break and felt the resistance of muscle give out. Even as his adversary fell to the ground and let out a gurgling scream, he was already on to the next target. A gladius was thrust out to meet him. He deflected it with an armored foreleg, using the momentary lapse in vision the earth pony would have after such an attack to knock the target's head to the side and thrust a blade through the side of his skull under the armored ear piece.

Everything had happened so fast, much faster than the shocked Equestrians could have possibly expected. Two of them now lie dead, another incapable of combat. That left a pony to either side of him. He expected the most senior officer to attack first, and he was prepared for it. The commander, and older stallion with a dark coat and mane, was no fool. He wasn't about to take long slashes with a mouth-held blade, leaving his neck exposed to counter-attack. No, he was something entirely different from the rest of his retinue -- a unicorn. Orange magic surrounded a circular shield and gladius.

"Leave the boy out of this," the old commander said. "Prove yourself to be whatever passes for a warrior with your kind and fight me." The deer said nothing, simply staring down the stallion. "Fight me, you gwil'lyyr!"

For a moment, the deer was amused at the insult, rough though it may have been from the pony's mouth. The old stallion was trying to provoke him, and had he been a lesser buck he may have been upset.

"Very well," the deer finally said. With a focusing of his mind he lifted a short sword from the body of his first victim, watching it tumble in front of him in a cloud of crackling, emerald energy. The stallion struck immediately, slashing his sword wide. The deer parried the blade with his own, simultaneously kicking out a foreleg. The unicorn's armor deflected the blow and its wearer countered with a stab that was aimed at the neck of his opponent. The failed attack was followed by a vicious bash from his shield against the armored deer, the force of the blow cracking crystalline armor and sending the deer sprawling. He skidded to a halt near the lifeless body of the guard he'd bucked in the jaw, picking himself up from the blood-soaked earth.

It only took a moment to regain his composure, and with the blade hovering in front of him again he felt sure of his abilities. The old unicorn was fast, and strong, but he was too confident in himself, too proud. Even as blow after blow rained down on the deer's armor he kept a steady eye on his enemy.

"You son..of a...fucking...whore!" A strike found a chink in the deer's armor, plunging deep into the shoulder. The deer grunted in pain, and with all of his might he rammed his antlers into the unicorn, sending him tumbling end over end.

"ENOUGH!"

A brilliant flash filled the area, bathing the forest in emerald-green light. The Equestrian commander, so strong and so sure, found himself paralyzed and completely unable to will his body to move. A cold sensation had invaded his mind, so cold it burned like a fire. He could only stare in confusion and anger as the deer limped over to him, his antlers glowing brightly.

"I tire of this game, Equestrian." The deer motioned to the gladius lying before him. "Grasp that blade between your hooves."

The unicorn was fighting it. He was fighting it hard. But he was never going to be strong enough. Trembling, he held the sword in front of him, balancing on his hind legs.

"Turn it over."

The sword slowly twisted so that its point was facing back. The old commander could tell what was coming, and he released a final, desperate burst of magic from his horn to free himself. The sparkling cloud of energy fizzled before the strength of the magic before it, disappearing into the aether. He had failed.

"Now plunge that blade into your throat and be done with it."

Slowly, ever so slowly, the commander's clasped hooves drove the weapon through his skin and muscle, his eyes going wide with pain and panic as it sliced through his neck with a spurt of dark crimson. He gurgled a wet scream that, for a short moment, turned the deer's stomach. The wet death rattle subsided over what felt like a long time, and the unicorn's eyes rolled back in his head. Finished with his adversary, the deer turned and faced the only surviving member of the patrol that had sworn to have his head -- the youngest guard, who was cowering on the ground in a puddle of his own piss and vomit.

"You. Boy." The deer said as he stepped closer, favoring the wound in his shoulder. The young guard could not speak, too terrified at what might happen to him. He whimpered at the imposing figure, its armor covered in blood. "What is your name?"

"...m-my name? Why?"

"Just answer the question, boy."

The young earth pony gulped.

"Co..Cobalt."

"Cobalt. Hmm." The deer turned his head skyward. "It will be full light soon. If you stay due east you will encounter a camp set up by your kind within a few hours." He looked back at the soldier. "When you arrive, tell the commanding officer that we await him on the edge of the Everfree forest. He will bring his forces, and he will engage us in combat, or we will slaughter every last stallion, mare and foal between here and Canterlot."

The deer turned and began to hobble away, his emerald armor glinting in the growing sunlight.

"Go. Or your brothers will have died in vain."