"Drink up, lads, there's plenty more where this came from. I'm not paying for it, but I'm sure there's more!"

The veterans of the 105th Praetorian Guard's 4th Barracks shared a laugh and grabbed their cups, downing a traditional first drink before slamming them back on the table as one.

"Gods above, I'll never get used to the taste," Polaris said between coughs. An entire pitcher of posca sat in the middle of the low table, already being used to pour a second cup between the four of them. The drink had a long tradition in Equestrian military ranks, both reviled and loved for its cheap price and harsh, sour flavor. It was certainly not the drink of royalty or the upper class, being made of sour wine mixed with water, honey and spices to mask the flavor. If one was particularly interested in getting drunk on the bare minimum amount of coin, a single silver piece could buy half a dozen cups of posca made with vinegar instead.

Tercio was not a fan of the stomach-turning, mouth-puckering drink, but sharing it with your brothers was considered a sign of solidarity. The almost inevitable sickness that came later could be considered the same. At least it didn't taste any worse on the way out.

"If this is the most we can expect from the night, I'm not sure I want any more. Whose idea was this?" he asked as the lingering aftertaste practically curdled on his tongue.

"Yours," Thunderburst said. Rimeberry and Polaris grumbled in mock disgust.

"Ah, right. Well in that case, you're all going to share in my pain." Tercio raised his cup. "To Imperator -- excuse me -- General Stonewall! May he be as much of a pain in the ass to the deer as he is to us."

"Aye!" the others answered, then took a long gulp.

"To Princess Celestia!" Polaris said next.

"Aye!" Another slug of almost drinkable alcohol.

"To Equestria, and kicking the shit out of the tree-rutting deer!" Thunderburst joined in.

"Aye!"

"To that pegasus in the corner with the pink mane!" The others looked at Rimeberry in confusion. "She don't know it yet, but she's comin' back with me!"

"Hell, why not? Aye!" Tercio said, the others joining him with a laugh. "And, of course...to the fallen. May they live forever."

"Aye, to the fallen," they echoed somberly, emptying their cups for a second time.

Tercio leaned back against the wall, shifting his weight on the large cushion beneath him. "It's good to be here again, my friends. Feels like it's been ages since we had the chance to get away from the castle and enjoy a night on the town."

"Ain't that the damn truth. Almost forgot what it's like to drink this shit." Rimeberry chuckled and let out a foul-tasting belch. "Soon as we finish this pitcher, we're ordering some real drinks. Maybe a Chillfurrow red, or a nice icewine from Frostvalley Meadows."

"You fucking ponce. I thought we were drinking, not sipping vintages like self-important cocks." Thunderburst jabbed him with a hoof.

"I'll have you know my cock is very important, Decanus Thunderburst. Besides, you don't grow up on a vineyard and not learn a thing or two about what is and isn't good wine. This shit certainly isn't."

"No, but it'll get you drunk on the cheap."

"Heh, ain't that the truth?" He faced Polaris. "So, Acting Imperator, huh? Does this mean you and Tercio are both the same rank now? Because that could get somewhat confusing."

Polaris and Tercio gave each other a look. Though Tercio had congratulated him on his temporary, perhaps permanent promotion, they both knew it was Tercio that had been chasing after it for months. It wasn't a case of bad blood or grudges, but rather a feeling of lost opportunity.

"Not quite. As the current acting imperator I am simply in charge of 3rd and 4th Barracks, while Stonewall has authority over us all. It's just until the war is over. After that, I might very well be bumped down to my old rank. I wouldn't want to stay as an imperator without having truly earned it."

"You help us survive against the deer and I'd say you'll have done just that."

Everyone voiced their agreements as a third round was poured.

"True enough, I suppose. It's just...I don't want there to be any tension between us. We all know how hard Tercio has been busting his ass to get the new recruits ready in time for the coming battle. If it were up to me he'd be the one in charge, and I say that sincerely -- but unfortunately it's not my decision."

Tercio shook his head. "It's fine, Polaris. Stonewall wanted someone with practical leadership experience, and you had more of that during your time in the Royal Guard than I ever did. I don't hold it against you. You're still my battle brother, even if I have to listen to your ramblings like I actually care now."

"Ha! One of the perks of being in charge, eh? Maybe I'll assign you the honorable task of polishing my sword."

"Yeah you'd like it if he polished your sword, wouldn't you?" Rimeberry smirked. "Polish it long and good."

"Shouldn't you be wallowing in the mud right now, or whatever it is you earth ponies do in your spare time?" Polaris shot back.

"Mud would probably taste better than this shit. Speaking of which: to our newest imperator and his tiny, floppy sword. One day he'll be a real stallion, I just know it."

"Aye!"

It did not taste any better the third time around.

"Fuck you, Rimeberry," Polaris laughed.

"You're gonna have to buy me some better drinks before that happens."

Tercio rapped his knuckles on the table. "If you two are done jerking each other off, there's something I wanted to tell you all before we're too drunk to remember. Well, most of you, anyway. Judging by his rather, uh, harsh insistence that he already knew, I'm guessing this won't come as a surprise to Thunderburst." He shot a glance across the table. "Will it?"

"If it is what I think it is? Not particularly," Thunderburst answered.

"As I thought. So, lads...I don't want there to be any secrets between us, especially if our lives, and that of the princess, depend on each other. I, um..." He searched for the best way to admit to his friends and colleagues the very thing he'd tried to hide for so long. "Oh, fuck it. I'm in a relationship with Celestia. There, I've said it."

Polaris and Rimeberry stared at him, then each other, unsure of whether he was bullshitting them again. Thunderburst simply shrugged when Polaris asked him if it was true.

"You always were a funny guy, Tercio," Rimeberry said. "Come on, now. You? And her? I mean, no offense, my friend, but you ain't even a pony. It's a little hard to believe. Is this the part where you yank us along for a bit, then bust out laughing when we kinda-sorta start believing you? 'Cause if it is, I'm on to you."

"It's not a joke," Tercio insisted. "I know it's difficult to imagine, but it's true. Celestia and I have been together for the better part of three months now. I couldn't possibly begin to explain how it happened. It just...did.

"Thunderburst found out not long ago. He confronted me over it in his usual manner, saying that I had betrayed everything that the Praetorian Guard was supposed to stand for. I don't doubt that I've broken part of my oath by becoming involved with the princess, but I tell you this now as a man and as a soldier: I do not regret my involvement with her in the slightest." He splayed his battle-scarred palms out. "You may think of me what you will. I would not blame you."

After a long moment Rimeberry let out a loud breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're serious about this, aren't you? You're not pulling our legs? Fuck me..."

"Hold on, I'm having a hard time understanding," Polaris said. "You swore to protect the princess when you became a Praetorian. We're supposed to place her well-being above all else. Perhaps I'm not seeing things clearly, but I don't see how you can keep your duty to her separate from your apparent feelings for her."

"Why should they be so different?" Tercio retorted. "I am committed to her safety and happiness more than ever before! I've seen her at her lowest, away from watchful eyes where she can truly be herself. She is an incredibly strong and brave mare, but even she has her limits. If I can be there for her, help her get through just one more day, then what reason would I have to be ashamed of such a thing?"

Thunderburst was about to interject, but Tercio stopped him with an accusatory jab of his finger. "You, of all ponies, should understand by now. You have done as I've asked and kept this a secret, and for that I am grateful, but it does not excuse the fact that your behavior when confronting me was disgusting. I saved your very life -- all of your lives, for that matter," he said as he looked to the others, "and I have proven myself time and again in battle. My loyalty to the Praetorian Guard, to Princess Celestia and to Equestria is not to be questioned. I would give my life for any of you, if so asked, and nothing you can possibly say will change that. So go ahead, insult me if you so wish. Call me a traitor, or a liar, or whatever else you may be thinking. I am man enough to own up to my faults. I am still a soldier, regardless."

Thunderburst stared him down, tapping his wooden foreleg on the table. He knew Tercio was right, loathe though he was to admit such a thing. Without a word he backed off from the confrontation.

"Does anyone else know about this?" Rimeberry asked.

"Stonewall and Mended Heart do. Perhaps a few others."

"So you're telling me Stonewall is okay with you being, uh, involved with the princess?"

"Surprisingly, yes. Our good imperator-turned-general has known her for far longer than any of us, and despite his service I believe he considers her more of a good friend than a superior. He's advised caution, of course, but I don't think he would be so callous as to interfere in such a personal matter."

The others could hardly believe what they were hearing. Not only was their human compatriot involved with the princess, but their commanding officer knew about the whole thing.

"Now I understand why you've been getting so many night guard assignments," Polaris said.

"It's not what you think. Not entirely," Tercio replied. "With Equestria in a state of near panic as of late Celestia has been particularly hard on herself, always wondering what she could have done differently. I try to comfort her as best I can, but it's an uphill struggle. I fear for her state of mind. There are some nights where she barely sleeps at all.

"She puts on a brave face for us. Mentally and physically exhausted though she is, she does everything within her power to be the steadfast, courageous leader everyone expects her to be. So when I say that my relationship with her has driven me to be a better man and a better Praetorian, I mean every word of it. I owe that much to her." Tercio leaned into the table and pointed to the group. "You are all my brothers -- even you, Thunderburst -- and I am proud to serve with each and every one of you, but I will not apologize for being with the one I deeply care for. I give you my word that my duty will always come before my personal interests. That is why I chose to tell you tonight. If any of you have further objections, then state them now."

They looked to each other, but not one of them said a thing. They had spilled blood together, both the enemy's and their own. They had watched good stallions die before them and felt the pain of loss. With absolute conviction they had pledged themselves to a cause greater than themselves, and when all was said and done they knew they could trust each other with their lives.

"I cannot say I fully approve of such intimate involvement, but I see no reason why it should be held against you, so long as you continue to conduct yourself as a Praetorian." Polaris said. "Are we in agreement?"

Rimeberry and Thunderburst nodded, the latter clearly reluctant but willing to go along with the others.

"I had hoped you would understand, my friends. It is good to be in such company." Tercio raised his refilled cup. "To the bond of battle."

"Aye," they answered as one.

Keeping stock of winter supplies was never an easy task. Barrels and satchels of dried fruits, grains, hardy vegetables, spices and other goods had to be meticulously kept dry and free of vermin, lest one oversight cause a potential disaster for the entire household. After more than sixty years, Roughshod still had yet to find an ideal solution.

He groused at the small hole in the storage room's back wall, barely visible in the corner behind a cask of raisin wine. The damned dormice were back, and they had apparently taken a liking to the azarole fruits. Gnawed husks of patchy yellow and green littered the floor around the hole. Now he'd have to replace the whole pest-bitten plank!

"Everything alright, dear?" Glimmering Grace called from the kitchen. The smell of sweet bread being pulled from the hearth drifted on the air.

"Looks like we've got some uninvited guests," Roughshod answered, raising his voice to be heard.

"Again?"

"They chewed through the damned wall this time. Persistent little bastards, I'll give 'em that." He could hear his wife tutting from across the house.

"I'll pay a visit to Parsnip on my way home from the market tomorrow. She might have some bitter root left to leave out until you can fix that."

Roughshod dismissed the furry little menaces with a muttered swear and went back to his inventory, making sure the quill strapped to his hoof was secure before dipping it in ink and continuing.

"Two cases of cheese...two pouches of dried figs and dates...three barrels of pickled vegetables...five barrels of grain, mostly barley. Need to make sure to keep that secured. Dried cherries, plums..."

A loud, insistent knock on the front door caught his attention.

"Do you want me to get that?" Grace asked, hesitancy tinging her voice. No one knocked like that unless they had a clear purpose in mind. Roughshod removed the quill and took the short steps up to the main living room area.

"No, I'll take it. You just concern yourself with that delicious bread, okay?" He flashed the smile she so loved after all these years, but his heart wasn't in it. The pit in his stomach returned as a second knock came, louder this time. "Hold on, I'm comin'!" he shouted through the door as he approached and unlatched it. A pegasus the color of ripened honeydew stood before him, saluting with a hoof over his armored chest. A blue crest and matching cloak marked him as a member of the Equestrian Guard.

"Sir Roughshod of the Krosus lineage?" the young stallion asked.

"That'd be me. Something I can help you with?"

"Apologies for the interruption, sir. I am Milites Lentil Leek of the 9th Equestrian, 2nd Cohort. I come bearing a message from Prefect Pontarius, my commanding officer. He has ordered the evacuation of Summervale and all surrounding farmsteads on instruction from Princess Celestia."

Roughshod cocked his head. "You'll forgive me for my bad hearing in my old age, youngin', but I could have sworn you just told me I have to leave."

"Uh, yes, sir, I'm afraid so. I was told to deliver this message to you personally. There are others informing the rest of the village, so if you'll--"

"Nonsense! If your prefect thinks he's going to make me abandon my home, he has another thing coming."

"I understand your hesitancy, sir, but the deer army is going to be within striking distance of this place within a day at the most. It is for your own safety that I am here now."

"I can protect myself," Roughshod said stubbornly.

Grace cautiously approached him, chancing a look at the soldier in the doorway.

"What's happening, love?"

"This colt expects us to leave our home."

"What? Why?"

Lentil Leek bowed before her in respect. "There has been an evacuation order, my lady. From the princess herself."

Her heart sank at the thought of abandoning her home. "No, no, we can't do that. There's no way to--"

"What she means to say is 'leave us alone'," Roughshod interrupted, already closing the door.

"Your sons, sir!"

He stopped, glaring at the messenger.

"What about them?"

"They're waiting for you in Canterlot. Your, um, child -- Tercio, of the Praetorian Guard, is it?-- asked that you be taken to see him. You will be under the personal escort of Princess Celestia's finest for the duration of the trip. As I understand it, your other son has recently arrived at the city with the survivors of the 1st Equestrian Army. They await your arrival."

Grace gasped. Everyone had heard about the battle of Quillyyn Keep and the terrible price it had exacted, but information about individuals had been frustratingly hard to come by.

"Oh thank the gods, our boy is alive! We've been blessed with a good omen, Roughshod. I think we should listen to this young stallion."

"We can't just leave everything behind, this is our livelihood," Roughshod objected.

"I don't like the idea any more than you do, dear, but they're just things we'll be leaving behind. They can be replaced if need be. What matters now is being with our sons. What would your father think?"

"My father built this home, Grace. I won't let the damned deer burn it to the ground."

"And I won't let you throw your life away." She took his hoof and clutched it to her chest. "Please. The boys need you. I need you. The farm isn't going anywhere."

Roughshod knew then that there was no way he would win the argument.The warmth and sincerity in her pleas could have melted glaciers. Still, a profound sadness filled his heart as he thought of seeing his home in ruins. All he had worked for, everything he had sweated and bled for every day while trying to provide for his family -- it could all be gone at the whim of the damned deer.

"Alright," he said at last, putting on a brave face for his wife's sake. "Listen, milites...Lentil, was it? We're going to need some time to pack our things and grab some supplies."

The soldier nodded. "Of course, sir. Myself and several others will return in an hour's time to fly you to the Guard outpost outside of town. From there you'll be taken to Canterlot. I recommend packing only what you can carry with you." He saluted one final time, spread his wings, and took off into the sky fast enough to leave a green trail in his wake.

Roughshod quietly shut the door and slumped against it. "I can't believe this is happening..." His incredulous laugh filled the silence as his wife sat beside him. "And here I thought some mice would be the biggest concern of the winter." Try as he might he could not hide the tears that welled in his eyes. "We could lose everything, Grace. Everything."

Grace pulled him close and rested his head against her shoulder, running a hoof through his gray-flecked hair. "We'll be alright, my love. We've still got each other." She kissed his forehead and smiled with comforting sincerity. "At least we'll all be together."

Caethil rubbed his eyes as he woke from another restless night. His back ached and he had a knot in his neck from sleeping on what amounted to a wooden floor with a barely serviceable blanket thrown over it. Zevran ships, it seemed, were not built for comfort. To his left and right were dozens of zebras, some awake, some still sleeping. A hatch leading to the top deck was open, showing a sky that was only now beginning to brighten.

The boat shuddered and creaked as it trundled over the waves that were thankfully light this morning. With a drowsy yawn he pushed himself up to his hooves and climbed the ladder up. The musty smell of the lower deck gave way to the cool, salty ocean air. Several zebra warriors were already up and about, checking ropes and sails or keeping lookout for any sign of land or unknown vessels.

The Zevran fleet stretched nearly to the horizon, with dozens of ships spread out across the vast Sea of Lights. Their colorful sails and striped foremasts stood out in stark contrast to the endless blue. It was a wondrous sight to behold.

A strong scent of earthy herbs drifted from the quarterdeck, heavy and wet like the forest after a rain storm, where a dozen zebras were busily mixing ingredients into simmering cauldrons. They wore elaborate headdresses of red feathers and the skulls of great birds. Bear had called them "Mowassi Enchanters", alchemists who were believed to speak freely with the spirits in their trance-like states. Their prestige was second only to shamans, for their craft walked a fine line.

Zebra magic came from the concoctions brewed by these knowledgeable few, using ingredients available within Zevran itself. If the mix was slightly off it could result in a painful death, both for the enchanter and the soldiers who relied upon him.

Three of the enchanters gathered round the right-most cauldron, chanting as one as they scooped small bowls full of a thick, reddish brown reduction and carefully poured them into short wooden tubes that were capped off and sealed with wax. They joined hundreds of others in earthenware pots, ready to be distributed to Zevran's finest.

Caethil leaned against the railing and watched the foam-topped waves slip by. Their white peaks reminded him of western Whitetail and the unrelenting snows that fell this time of year. The winter storms would only have gotten worse since his departure. He wondered if Corvalix had left his bucks to freeze solid in the woods, their bodies shattered and torn, not even deserving of a burial. The scavengers would have their way with them, sooner or later. Dozens of lives lost in the vain hope of escape. They had looked to him for guidance, stuck by his side during the worst of the fighting, and it had all been for naught. The same thought he'd faced hundreds of times since that day crept back into his mind: you deserve to die with them.

Perhaps he did. He had no doubt that he would meet his end in the coming battle. Truthfully, the only thing keeping him going was the hope -- that damned word again -- of seeing Corvalix die at the end of his blade. Then, and only then, would he welcome the serenity of death.

A zebra shouted from the crow's nest. "Adwane, kufu dimbot'te sh'awah!"

Immediately there was a clatter of hooves as every available zebra rushed to the bow to see what was ahead. Caethil stood near the back of the forming crowd, craning his neck to see over the curved prow that bobbed with the waves. A great, dark mass enshrouded in morning fog loomed ahead, slowly growing clearer, revealing browns and greens that stretched into the rising sun.

A cheer went up, spreading from ship to ship as drummers banged out their message: land in sight.

Equestria.