"I don't know if what I'm doing is right,
I don't know if you should be forgiving,
But for me it seems it means my life,
While for you it could just be a living.
Elvis Costello, Any King's Shilling.

***

The Miner's Haven, Trottingham. July 3rd. Year 1 of the New Free Equestrian Calendar (2031).

"Another?" the grey-furred mole barkeeper asked his customer.

The purple Unicorn mare gave a wan smile - her mane, bleached blonde, was held back in a short ponytail, and the long black coat she wore obscured her cutie mark, but the tired eyes and lines of worry were all too familiar to the old mole. Next to her, the green, cropped-maned Unicorn stallion gave a slight smile. He looked less drawn than her, but at the same time more weary.

"Yeah," he said. "On me."

The barmole nodded and began pouring the drinks. His name was Hansel Strongclaw, and for many years now he and his family had been responsible for this pub, one of a fair few the city of Trottingham had that served Ol' Trotspur, a particularly strong (and famous) moleish beer.

He had seen many sorts pass through the doors of his establishment - angry drunkards, mellow drunkards, happy drunkards and even - once or twice - downright frisky drunkards. He'd dealt with Convies before and after the death of Solamina (and he preferred the latter - sure, lots of them were morose bastards, but a lot of them were less annoyingly chirpy), and he'd dealt with Guards who were sometimes worse off than those poor sods. He’d even dealt with that annoying mare with the auburn mane who kept starting fights when she was drunk - at least, he’d dealt with her once before throwing her out. That one had seemed familiar, but he hadn’t really cared - he never paid much attention to the news.

In all that though, these two were a mystery. She seemed almost resigned to her drinking, like it wasn't really a matter of choice.

"So," he asked. “What brings a nice lookin’ mare like yerself to a poor little establishment like my own?”

The mare looked up at him with a tired smile. “A lot of things.”

“I’ve heard a few rumours,” the mole said softly. “The mare who fixes Convies when they’re broken - which is a lot of ‘em, so I hear.”

The mare’s smile faded, and Hansel got the feeling he’d reminded her of something she didn’t want to think about.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I… guess that’s me.”

“Why would a mare like you be off doin’ something like that?” the mole asked. “Seems to be a bit of a task, given how many of those poor sods there are.”

She sighed, looking down at the bar, and mumbled something.

“Pardon?” Hansel said, straining to hear.

“Because I’m part of the reason they’re broken,” she said softly, looking up at him. She finished her drink, left a coin on the bar to pay for it and left the bar. A moment later the cropped-maned stallion followed, leaving a coin for his own drink and giving Hansel a look that told the old mole that maybe he’d done the wrong thing.

Hansel sighed. That had been an answer at least - though not necessarily the one he’d been after.

“Ah well,” he said softly, wiping the bar down softly. “I hope you find what you’re after, miss.”

***

“So,” True Grit asked quietly as they left the bar. “You did a few dozen of the Converted here, and you taught the spell to the local staff. I take it we’re done in Trottingham?”

“Yeah,” Twilight said simply. “We’re done.”

“Ok,” Grit said, without commenting on her brevity. It was rare for Twilight to say all that much, especially when she had been reminded of something she didn’t want to think of anymore. “So. What next, ma’am? Go find some more broken Convies -?”

Twilight winced. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that, Grit.”

She had never liked that term, not when Applejack had used it in passing, not when Rainbow Dash had berated Convie flyers for incompetence, and not now that it was her task to fix them. Grit, for his part, had the decency to look abashed at least.

“Sorry ma’am,” he said. “Picked it up while I was serving in Plymouth.”

“I don’t really care where you picked it up, Grit,” Twilight said, sighing. She stopped. “I’m sorry… that was unnecessarily…”

“Ma’am,” Grit said, raising a hoof. “It’s fine.”

There was a pause. Twilight looked up at Grit and smiled softly.

“You know,” she said, “there’s times when I’m really glad you came along with me.”

“Me too,” Grit replied, smiling back. “But in any case - we’d better get going wherever we’re going. There’s a Guard outpost near here, according to the map - hopefully they’ll have supplies to give to us.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said quietly, her soft smile fading. She hated going near Guard outposts - she hated being anywhere near anything military these days. “Hopefully.”

***

The nearest outpost to Trottingham was somewhere between the town and a small village called Marefield. The next nearest outpost was one along the Iron Wall - for the life of her, Twilight didn’t know why the thing was still manned, or even why it was still up. If it were up to her, she would have had the blasted thing torn down. The walk to Marefield was long, but surprisingly peaceful for the most part, despite the

“Did you ever come this far out?” Grit asked.

“I didn’t tend to do inspections,” Twilight replied softly. “Well, no, that’s not strictly true - I didn’t tend to do inspections often. I did them enough that I knew what was what where I needed to, but it was Shining or Flash Sentry who tended to…”

She trailed off, her voice ending in a choked noise.

Shining Armour is dead, and they wouldn’t even show me his corpse. Flash Sentry was killed during the battle of London, at the final battle at St Paul’s. Pinkie died a few days earlier.

“Ma’am?” Grit asked.

“Grit,” Twilight said softly, “do you ever…”

“Do I ever what, ma’am?” Grit asked.

“Regret anything you did in the war?” Twilight finished, speaking quietly.

True Grit paused, slowed, and stopped walking, a slight frown developing on his face.

“I don’t know,” he said after a long moment. “I wasn’t on Earth for long, but… it was long enough that I did some things. Some things I don’t know if I can live with.” He paused, regarding her with knowing eyes. “I suppose it’d be a bit of a stupid question to ask you if you did anything you regretted.”

Twilight laughed aloud. “I was involved with the EG project, the False God project, the revised potion projects, the assaults of London, Whitby, Hull and Lancaster. I was responsible for half the scientific atrocities committed by the Empire, and it was me and the Empress together who worked on Luna - and you do remember Luna, right?”

“Yeah,” Grit said, his expression souring.

“So yes,” Twilight finished. “Yes, it is a stupid question. I regret all of it.”

“I don’t even know what half those things you mentioned are,” True Grit commented, raising an eyebrow. “EG? False God?”

“EG stood for ‘Eternal Guard’,” Twilight said softly. “You don’t want to know what they were - although you met the prototype.”

“Luna?” Grit said after a moment. “You mean… there were more?”

“Oh yes,” Twilight said softly, an expression of disgust on her face. “There were more. Several hundred, at least. The project was quite extensive - only one of the more esoteric weapons Solamina demanded.”

“And project False God?” Grit asked.

“I don’t really want to talk about all the things I was doing in the war, Grit,” Twilight said with a scowl. “It’s understandably not my favourite of subjects…”

“No, I understand,” Grit said softly. "Sorry."

Twilight sighed. "No… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that, you have a right to know, given all you've done for me. It's just…"

"A sore subject," Grit finished.

"Yeah," Twilight said with a smile. She sighed, her smile fading. "I'm never going to be free of it, am I?"

"Maybe not," Grit admitted, "but we'll get there in the end. I'm sure of it."

***

The outpost in question was only a mile or so up the road when they started hearing the clamour. It began as a soft noise in the distance, but it was the sort of noise that both Grit and Twilight knew very well.

“Is that…?” Grit asked, frowning.

There was a distant rumble - the sound of masonry shattering under the blows of a concussive spell. Twilight scowled. She was - unfortunately - very familiar with that sound. She had heard it too many times over the course of the war.

“That,” she said aloud, “is the sound of trouble.”

And with that, she took off at a gallop, leaving True Grit to follow in her wake. Though he was (by a couple of years or so) younger than this Twilight Sparkle, he was surprised that she seemed fitter and quicker than him. He found it particularly odd when he remembered that this Sparkle had been an officer, and from what little she’d said prior to today on their journeys, largely a deskbound officer. Most of her responsibilities, it had panned out, were to do with R&D, magical weaponry, ordering attacks and planning them. Her frontline duties had mostly petered out after Cornwall.

After a few minutes of galloping, the two of them rounded a bend in the road, and there, beyond some trees, they saw the fort and what was attacking it.

The outpost itself was a combination of wood and stone - a small stone keep, with wooden palisades manned by beleaguered ponies in Night Guard armour. Unicorns were racing up and down the wooden battlements, trying to replace comrades hit by spells from their attackers.

The fortress was surrounded by Royal Guard - they wore their golden armour with pride, and one of them was flying the flag of the Solaminan Empire, a representation of Celestia's - Solamina's - cutie mark. It was only a small group - no more than twenty five or so, not counting the half dozen corpses that surrounded the fortress.

"An attack!" True Grit said, sounding surprised.

Twilight only growled. There was something about this entire situation that felt… off - like there was more to it.

"We have to help!" her escort said.

"You're right," she replied. Her horn glowed, and suddenly a bolt of purple magic lashed out, impacting in the centre of the formation of Royal Guards and causing an explosion that sent dirt, rock and body parts in equal measure flying. Snorting, Twilight charged forward, unheeding of Grit's shout for her to wait.

This was personal.

The first Unicorn she got to, a stallion, tried drawing a short sword to attack her. She dodged, then grabbed the blade with her own telekinesis, before ramming it through his throat. Withdrawing the blade, she used it to slice the throat of one charging Earth Pony, then another. She dodged a spell from another Unicorn, and then retaliated by blowing a hole clean through the mare's face.

Behind her, True Grit began laying down suppressing fire, spells lancing out from his horn and mashing into the enemy Guard, throwing ponies off their hooves. He was functional - efficient, even. But Twilight Sparkle? She was an artist. She moved fluidly, every step a lethal movement that caused one of her enemies to die. She dodged another spell, rolled, put up a shield that effortlessly absorbed the spells thrown by another Unicorn, before unleashing the shield as a shockwave.

"Who is that?!" somepony yelled.

"Get the Alicorn out here!" somepony else yelled. "Now!"

True Grit jogged up to Twilight. "What did that Guard say?!"

Twilight narrowed her eyes, hoping against hope that it didn't mean what she think it did. She sent more spells off, picking off more of the enemy Guard.

"Get to the fort - get anypony inside to get out here and give me a hand," she said.

"But -" Grit began.

"But nothing, Grit," Twilight said. "Get as many ponies as can fight out here now. We're gonna -"

There was a sudden flash of light, and an explosion near them, showering dirt all over the two of them. Grit was blown off his hooves, landing in a heap nearby, and he quickly got up, only to see Twilight standing where she was, another shield erected and crackling from the impact of rubble and dirt. Her mane was blowing in backdraft - and then the dust cleared.

An armoured figure was stood before them - elegant wings spread out in fury, eyes narrowed in contempt, horn glowing with power and a blade levelled in Twilight’s direction. Golden armour glittered, seemingly untouched by the dust.

“I am Gladia, warrior of the Solaminan Empire!” the figure yelled. “Yield or be annihilated!”

Grit watched as Twilight’s horn glowed in challenge, the former Solaminan Commander narrowing her own eyes in turn.

“The Solaminan Empire is dead,” she hissed. “Solamina is dead! You will stand down!”

There was a brief pause as the two sized each other up. Suddenly, Twilight threw a spell, before galloping around the Alicorn, throwing more as she did so. The Alicorn blocked the spells effortlessly, conjuring a silver shield of magic that absorbed the impact with no issue. Suddenly, she threw her own spells, but Twilight teleported, and the spells hit nothing but dirt, pulverising the ground.

The two were stood still again, once more sizing each other up. The Alicorn raised her head slightly.

“We are stalemated in a duel of magic,” she said simply. She aimed her blade once more at Twilight. “This contest will be decided by our skills at arms.”

Twilight snorted, her horn glowing, and suddenly a mound of dirt rose into the air, before twisting into the shape of a sword. In a flash of purple light, a shining steel blade was there, and it flashed into a guard position as Twilight took a defensive posture.

And then Gladia charged.

There was a flash of silver as the blades clashed, and the two powerful magic users strained to force the other back. Suddenly, Twilight and her sword teleported to behind the Alicorn, and the purple mare stabbed. Gladia, faster than thought, swept her blade to parry, before bringing it down in a vicious overhead strike. Twilight teleported away again, this time to Gladia’s side, and lashed out, forcing the other mare onto the defensive as Twilight struck again and again, a furious grimace on her face.

And all the while, Gladia was smirking.

She blocked a final blow, spun her blade around and suddenly Twilight was disarmed, Gladia’s blade aimed at her throat. The Alicorn was breathing heavily, exhausted by their duel. Twilight gulped, suddenly aware of the sweat in her mane.

“Yield,” Gladia said.

Twilight growled, and then grimaced, as though she had an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

“I know what you are,” she said simply, and she sounded like she pitied the other mare.

“I am Gladia,” the Alicorn snapped. “Warrior of the Empire.”

“Who were you?” Twilight asked quietly. “Before this?”

Gladia narrowed her eyes. “Nothing. And now, I am everything.”

Her blade edged closer to Twilight’s throat.

“Stand down!” True Grit’s voice suddenly called out.

Gladia turned her eyes to look in his direction - only to see him standing there, horn glowing… backed by the rest of the garrison, their faces full of fury mixed with awe at seeing an Alicorn.

“You're outnumbered,” Twilight said quietly.

“I could dispatch all of these,” Gladia replied, equally quiet.

“Could you?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow. “I created the potion that made you what you are - and in all my estimates, the result was a more powerful warrior… but never so powerful that they could take on twenty trained ponies alone and survive, especially not when they're already drained from battle.”

Gladia narrowed her eyes at Twilight for a moment, and then she lowered her head slightly.

“This is only a beginning,” she said simply. Her blade twitched slightly, a sudden sharp pain erupting on Twilight’s cheek, and then Gladia was gone, teleported away.

Twilight breathed, bringing a good to her cheek, and staring at the bright blood there. Her eyes widened slightly as the full implications of what she had just seen began to hit her.

“Ma’am?” she heard Grit call. “Are you alright?”

This is only a beginning.

“Ma’am?!” Grit repeated.

Twilight Sparkle didn't know how to answer him.

Author's Notes:

Hello everyone!

My, it has been a long time, hasn't it? Sorry about that. I've had a lot of stuff going on in my life that needed my attention. Still, I managed to finish this little gem. I think it's safe to say things are escalating in the world of AOA Equestria.

Anyway: I hope you enjoyed that. I'll be back on the metaphorical horse soon, hopefully (no pun intended).

Cheers.

Jed.