Chapter 3: Picking up the Pieces.

Dawn illuminates Canterlot after a long night of the city being shrouded beneath a choking cloud of ash and dust. Late during the night, after it had grown too dark to continue search and rescue of trapped ponies in the inner city, many of the Reserves had done their best to clear the sky of the lingering ash and dust and had even moved in some storm clouds to allow a light drizzle to remove what they could not. The rain did nothing for the atmosphere, though. Even if it made the air cleaner and put out the fires, the rain and clouds lend a certain mournful air to the wounded city.

Into this grey and mournful day, two figures exit the castle and cross the ruined gardens and courtyards of both the High Class District and the Castle itself. The first, a white unicorn with a well-styled azure mane and tail wearing a somewhat rumpled and dusty suit and monocle, is holding an umbrella over the second with his magic. The second is a beautiful and tall light grey unicorn mare who is frowning as they walk through the ruins.

“So much devastation,” the mare laments, her ears going back against her head. “All of this beauty gone. I cannot imagine the power that terrible cannon must have, to have done all of this!”

“I shudder to think of it, my dear,” the stallion replies with a sigh as he looks around. “I fear we’re not going to find too much of our house, Fleur.” As if speaking of it summons it, the pair turn a corner and find themselves before the looming ruins of a once splendid mansion.

The building, made of wood and stone that had once been the finest money could import, is a shade of dark sooty black with most of it having collapsed in a direction facing away from the blast that had swept through the area the day before. Somehow, though, the center of the house seems to still be standing, as the columns and walls seem to have supported the weight of both the blast and the collapse, though by far it is only a small portion of the once grand estate.

“Oh, Fancy,” Fleur gasps, her ears going back against her head.

“Well, it is more than I had hoped to see standing,” Fancy says with a small smile to his wife. “I fear though our bedroom is likely lost,” he runs a hoof over the front of his dusty suit, “Guess I’ll need to get more suits.” He then sighs and shrugs, “but we are alive to get them, that that is what matters.”

Nodding, her smile returning, Fleur looks to her husband. “Perhaps we should go check on the guest house? If Monkey and Witchy are alright, Celestia willing, I think they’d like to know what became of their home.”

“A good idea, darling,” Fancy agrees, gesturing with a hoof down the debris strewn street. “After you, my dear.”

Smiling warmly, Fleur starts down the street towards their house, her husband in step beside her. Once they’re in their front yard, or what is left of it as the area is strewn with large chunks of everything from other houses to uprooted trees and bushes, it takes them a little while to navigate through the ruins and to the guest house behind their once lavish home. The house which their friends, Witching Hour and Monkey Wrench, had been renting along with their ward Trick Step is in a slightly better condition than the main manor house. But only slightly.

The manor had shielded the smaller guest house from the majority of the blast, but even so the building looks as if it had been struck by a giant’s club, the windows and doors all blown from their frames and even a few walls sporting some rather large holes from flying debris. It still looks, mostly, stable however and Fancy and Fleur are even able to venture inside for a few short minutes before they are satisfied it isn’t a total loss like their own home.

From there, the pair wander to their own house, emboldened by the survival of their guest house, and enter through a mostly intact doorway leading into the kitchen.

“Well, I’ve seen it cleaner,” Fancy chuckles, producing a small light on the end of his horn. The light illuminates the room, revealing the entire place to be strewn with pots and pans, and even a few food items that had been left when the kitchen staff had evacuated with their employers. It is, however, still in good shape, with even the oven and walk-in refrigerator still in one piece. “With a little help we could still cook in here.”

“At least a small part of our home has survived,” Fleur sighs, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “A lot of our neighbors are likely not as lucky.”

“I imagine not,” Fancy agrees as he folds the umbrella up and places it on a mostly clear counter top. “A lot of them are likely going to be without homes, and a lot of them are going to be too proud to ask for help.” He goes forward towards the door to the dining room, and attempts to open it. Finding it unwilling to budge to casual pressure, he puts his shoulder into it and pushes harder. The door opens slightly with the sound of wood scraping across the floor. “Depending on how much of our home is still standing, I imagine they’ll even attempt to buy it from us.”
“I imagine they will,” Fleur chuckles, coming over and putting her own shoulder into the door, which makes it open enough for Fancy to slip through. “Did the dining room survive?”

“Looks like it,” Fancy calls back through the door. He pauses a moment and sticks his head back through the door. “Though, the china your mother bought for us when we got married didn’t. I fear it met an untimely end against the wall.”

“Oh well. I never liked it anyway,” Fleur giggles with a shrug. “What is against the door?”

“A suit of armor, and one of the smaller tables,” Fancy explains, disappearing from view again. There is a loud scraping sound followed by the door opening wider and Fancy’s smiling face coming into view again. “My love, the dining room awaits.” Fancy says, bowing and sweeping a hoof towards the room behind him, as if to invite Fleur into a party or some other gathering.

Giggling and inclining her head, Fleur steps forward into what is left of her dining room, doing her best to not be surprised at the state it is in. As Fleur looks over the room, she cannot help but smile a little, as it is not as bad as she had dreaded, but it is still far from pristine.

The once grand dining room of their house is in a state of ruin, none of the tables are on their legs and one of the large chandeliers that had once hung from the high ceiling has fallen onto the floor and damaged it. Still, it is better than nothing, and with a little work it could serve its function again. Looking to her husband, Fleur is unsurprised to find him walking around, a broom grasped in his magic as it sweeps some of the smaller rubble as he inspects the various still intact pieces of furniture. Not wanting to be idle herself, Fleur goes to one of the cabinets and opens it, rummaging around inside until she finds some candles that are still in one piece. She then sets about righting one of the smaller tables and finding a candelabra, so that her husband does not need to continue to use his magic to light the room.

After doing that for a few minutes and successfully righting a few tables and lighting enough candles so the room is no longer dark, Fleur searches a few of the nearby rooms until she finds a feather duster, and starts helping her husband clean up the dining room.

The two of them continue on their self-appointed tasks until the sound of hooves brings them back to the present. Looking towards the entryway the two smile as a familiar form comes through the door..

“Master Fancy? Miss Fleur?” The figure, an earth pony stallion wearing the coat of a chef, calls out before noticing his two employers.

“Ah! Ladle,” Fancy greets warmly, putting his broom down and going over to the middle-aged stallion. “It’s good to see you, I hope you’re not too badly dismayed at the state of your domain?”

“I see some of the house survived,” Ladle asks before stopping and looking at Fancy with a frown. “What do you mean ‘the state of my domain’?”

“A small part,” Fancy replies, gesturing for the cook to join them inside the dining room. “Enough, at least. I will likely see if I can’t get a pony from one of my construction firms to look over what has survived, we might be able to shelter some ponies here.” He walks over to his broom and goes back to sweeping. “And, you should see the kitchen for yourself. I fear whatever I tell you will simply not convey the… state it is in.”

“I am sure the live-in staff will be glad to hear that, sir,” Ladle states as he walks over towards the kitchen.

“Well, it’s their home as much as it is ours,” Fancy states, looking over at Ladle with a smile. “And, what have I told you about calling me ‘sir’ when we’re not hosting a party.”

“To just call you by name,” Ladle shrugs, putting a hoof on the kitchen door, and looking over his shoulder. “Fancy… how bad is it in there?” He gestures with his head in towards the kitchen, a note of fear in his voice.

“Remember the time you got sick, and the new hire had to run the kitchen by himself?” Fancy asks absently, smirking slightly as Ladle flinches. “It’s not that bad, but it’s a mess.”

Sighing and shaking his head, Ladle heads into the kitchen causing Fancy to pause in his sweeping, and turn an ear towards the direction of the kitchen. For a long moment there is silence, but then Ladle’s voice echoes out into the dining room, rattling the walls and causing a little dust to fall from the damaged roof above.

“SWEET CELESTIA ABOVE! When I get my hooves on those ‘Shadowbolts’, I am going to put the fear of the sun into their lives!”

Chuckling and winking to his wife, who shakes her head and continues doing her best to tidy the room up, Fancy goes back to sweeping. He even starts whistling a tuneless song, as Ladle’s outburst makes it feel as if nothing has changed at all.

-------

Sighing wearily, Ember leans against a wall in the entryway to Canterlot General’s emergency room entrance. Currently, it was being used as a triage center, ponies who are not as badly wounded as those who had been rushed in are being seen here by available doctors. Ember is one of those doctors, or at least she had been a few minutes ago. Fatigue, and emotional drain from both using magical energy and the sheer fact that the entire city felt… dead, had taken its toll and she had been forced to step away and tag another doctor to take over her duties.

She had told herself, when this whole mess had started, that she could handle it, that the Shadowbolts would never be so audacious as to actually fire that cannon of theirs again when it had not worked the first time. To do so, she had told herself, would be the very definition of insanity. Perhaps she had not been able to admit to herself that these pegasi, who could use magic and who had beaten Talon and his friends up within an inch of their lives, were insane. Perhaps she had wished to see the good in it, and ignore the possibility that she might, once again, lose a home to radical warmongering fools.

She had never been so wrong as in the moments she had convinced herself Canterlot would be fine.

That lie had been shattered, and with it quite a bit of the emotional energy she had relied on. She had rallied for the sake of the ponies she was looking after, but worry had slowly eroded that final reserve away, and now it was all she could do to stay standing, let alone keep herself in the form of a unicorn.

Shaking her head, Ember separates herself from the wall and heads towards the door marked ‘Do Not Enter: Hospital Staff Only’. Moving through the doors, she wanders down the hall, her eyes unfocused as she concentrats on simply moving her weary hooves towards the locker room at the far end of the hall.

She doesn’t keep a lot of things in her locker, but with the area beyond the hospital doors being rather inhospitable Ember decides that she may as well grab her cloak, or at the very least something to cover herself incase her disguise drops on the way back to her house. She’d likely not be the only medical personnel heading back to their house, many likely fearing that their homes had been destroyed by the attack, but she would likely be one of the first to leave. Many, if not all, of the medical staff were pushing themselves to their limits, and beyond, to try and save one more pony or treat one more of those in triage.

Going into the locker room, she quickly crosses to her locker and opens it as she levitates her scrubs off. Once they’re off she levitates them over to a nearby laundry cart, then turns back to her locker and levitates out some personal objects.

First, she pulls out the bracelets that Quicktail had given her what seemed like ages ago now, and puts them on with a content sigh. They might not be the object of her affection, but they provide a certain amount of comfort that usually only he can.

Next she pulls a folded cloak from the locker. Smiling at it slightly, Ember unfolds it and puts it on in a flourish, the long emerald cloth nearly touching the ground beneath her hooves. She then pulls the deep hood up over her head, nothing but the tip of her horn showing, and even then if she shifts it slightly forward even that becoming hidden. She truly was in Witching Hour’s debt for this cloak, as it was large enough to hide her entirely if her unicorn disguise ever failed her, and also in her favorite color!

Of course, there was another reason she liked this cloak. Being from a close friend, it was a strong comfort to her in much the same way her bracelets were. Even if they did not give her emotional energy, both the cloak and the bracelets help her steel her will, and hold on that much longer to her unicorn form when her energy reserves are dangerously low.

Turning from the locker and starting from the room, Ember turns right down the hall and exits the hospital by way of a staff door a short distance from the emergency room’s main entrance. Pulling her cloak closer to herself, Ember cannot help but shiver as she pauses in the doorway and looks around. The air beyond the sheltered walls of Canterlot General is cold -- holding a quality not unlike the biting air that one feels in deep winter in the mountains -- and carries with it a strong feeling of forlorn hope and also of deep hurt.

Wishing her cloak were hiding armor, or at least more armor than the slightly armored carapace all changelings have, Ember puts a hoof to the ash-caked sidewalk and starts her journey home. The weather pegasi had pulled in some storm clouds earlier, a light rain having fallen and had by now mostly dried up, though every little while Ember can feel a drop or two of rain against her hood or cloak. Likely, the cold chill in the air was due to the rain, the Reserves and whatever weather pegasi they had with them likely having found the clouds in colder climates, if not having made them right above the city.

Turning a corner, Ember stops as she spots one of the large shelters the citizens had hidden in. It’s a square building made of strong stone, crystals inlayed into its walls glowing faintly as their shield spell wait to be utilized. A fair amount of ponies are milling about before the large doors, many of them staring blankly towards the inner city, some simply wandering in circles. For all the chaos and injury she had seen inside the hospital, Ember had not been able to wonder what the rest of the citizens of Canterlot would think, or for that matter feel, when they were allowed back up to the surface.

Moving forward again, Ember does her best to not bump into any of the ponies. The crowd parts slightly as she moves through, even the most stunned of ponies able to shift out of her way and allow her passage, and yet she cannot help but feel as if the crowd is pushing against her and surround her so strong are the feelings of shock, anger, and even despair. She cannot blame them, really. This is the second time one of her homes has been attacked magically, the first having been her hive in the Drake Empire, and now Canterlot has been scarred by the Shadowbolts and their cannon.

As she is about to leave the crowd, Ember hears a voice speak up from nearby, and pauses long enough to look over towards the source.

“Mommy, where’s daddy?” a young unicorn foal, wearing a small hoof-stitched cape with what looks to be a shield with a pony rearing in the center, asks as she tugs at her mom’s hoof. “I can’t wait to hear how him and his squad kicked the Shadowbolts’ flanks! I bet him and uncle Ironside were in the thick of it! Shadowbolts all around them, bearing down on them in a relentless stream of evil!” The foal gestures with one hoof, her eyes aglow as she tells the story in a voice befitting of a story-teller. “I bet him and uncle get a medal from Luna! I bet she tells him that him and his squad helped to save Canterlot from more damage!”

The mare sniffles a little, turning to look away from the foal and giving Ember a clear view of the tears forming in her eyes. Wiping them away with an arm, a pair of scorched Royal Guard tags gripped tightly in the hoof, the mare turns back to her child with a smile. “They’re real heroes alright, I am sure the Princess will really be proud of their service.” She then clears her throat and gestures with a hoof down the street, away from Ember. “H.. how about we go and get some hot chocolate? I think I heard one of the guards say something about the coffee shop a few streets over opening back up soon.”

Whatever the foal says in reply, Ember does not hear as she starts down the street again at a quicker pace. She could feel the excitement, the adoration, the filly had for her father. The young pony was looking forward to seeing her father again more than anything else. The mare, though? Ember had felt profound sadness, loss, flowing forth from the mare who was barely keeping it under control for her daughter. The tags, the tears, had said it all. The filly wasn’t going to see her father, nor her uncle, ever again outside of pictures.

A sudden panic grips Ember, causing her hooves to stick to the paving stones beneath them. Quicktail had been near the Castle, as he worked as a part of the Griffin Embassy's guards. A part of her mind, the rational part, calmly informs her that he would likely be alright as the Ambassador would have been ushered into a shelter, if not the Castle’s basement, and Quicktail would have been by their side. However, the part of her that is in love with him, that worries over him whenever she hears there was a scuffle or any sort of commotion from his work place, screams all the louder that there is the small chance he wasn’t safely tucked away.

Sudden icy panic gripping her, Ember starts forward at a full gallop, her hooves clattering against the ash covered walkway sounding like the thunder of that dreadful cannon all over again. Ponies leap from her path as she runs, cloak billowing and head held low as she breaths heavily, looking much like some green specter charging forth from the hazy mist to be seen for a split second before vanishing once more from sight.

Ember sees none of the ponies she passes, though, her mind reeling with images of Quicktail lying injured and broken like so many soldiers she had treated in the past day. It was all she could do to not shut her eyes and drive the image of him smiling warmly at her, eyes unfocused and milky as he gently brushes a blood soaked paw against her cheek, as if to brush tears away. Her ears ring with his cough as he spits blood, and whispers softly in a hoarse and weakened voice ‘I love you,’

Tears well up unbidden in her eyes as she forces her weary legs to go faster. In her mind’s eye she can see, can feel, his paw fall limply from her face, her ears hearing the final rattling breath escaping his lungs.

Skidding around the last corner and onto the street her house sits on, Ember charges towards her front door, horn already aglow to unlock the door. Before she reaches it, through, the door swings open and the object of her love stands in the doorway. Quicktail smiles warmly to her, and opens his beak to say something, but doesn’t get the chance as she jumps the last little distance between them and barrels him over as she wraps her arms around his neck.

Burying her face into his neck feather she sobs, the last of her emotional reserve dissolving. With a flash of red fire, hidden by her cloak, Ember’s unicorn disguise falls apart as she vaguely feels herself being lifted by Quicktail. She is set on her hooves for a moment as Quicktail closes the door, and then led over to the couch and soon finds herself half-laying half-sitting on the couch and her griffin love in equal measures. Burying her face back into Quicktail’s feathers, she continues to sniffle, though the love radiating from her large guardian reassures her as well as starts to replenish some of her energy.

Gently pulling her hood back, Quicktail runs a taloned claw along her cheek and smiles down at her warmly.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Quicktail whispers, “and I am safe too, so don’t you go worrying about me anymore, alright?”

“I…” Ember starts, sniffing and nuzzling into Quick’s neck. “I can’t help it, that cannon… the stories I heard about the area you work in from the surviving Guards and Reserves we treated…” She wraps her arms around Quicktail, shivering heavily. “I… I was so afraid I wouldn’t see you again, that you had gotten into your feathered brain of yours to go help the Royal Guard or the Reserves fight the Shadowbolts.”

“Well, I may have given that some thought…” Quick chuckles, earning himself a glare and a poke from Ember. “But, I couldn’t abandon my post, let alone leave the shelter of the Castle’s basement. I knew if I put myself in harm’s way, you’d have some stern words for me!”

“And I would,” Ember’s slightly muffled voice comes from Quick’s chest. “I know you’re strong, and brave…”

“And handsome, can’t forget that!” Quick inserts.

“And handsome,” Ember concedes. “But I am not, and… the thought of losing you…”

“You won’t,” Quick states firmly as he leans back and gently lifts Ember’s face so he is looking into her eyes. “I’m not going any-,” he stops when Ember puts a hoof over his beak.

“Don’t,” she states firmly, “if you say that… I’m afraid you’ll get hurt, or… or you won’t come back to me.” She shakes her head, smiling softly for the first time in what feels like ages. “Besides, I already know it’s true, so don’t waste your breath.”

“Then I guess I shouldn’t say the next thing I was going to,” Quick chuckles as he returns the smile.

“I never said that,” Ember whispers as she looks up into Quick’s eyes.

“Well,” Quick whispers back, gently placing a paw on the back of Ember’s head. “I love you, Ember.”

“I know,” Ember replies before reaching up and kissing Quicktail, who returns the kiss with equal parts passion and tenderness.

Breaking the kiss, the two simply snuggle on the couch, and, before too long, the toll of the past two days catches up to Ember who falls asleep still wrapped in her cloak and the arms of her love.

Quicktail removes her cloak, and gently carries her to the bed, climbing in and pulling the covers over both of them. Yawning, he lays down beside her, smiling wearily as the changeling scoots backwards and snuggles into him.

As the two drift off to sleep, Ember finally finds herself able to relax, and soon finds herself blissfully in the world of dreams, far now removed from feeling the emotional pain of the city she lives in.

----

“It’s only a little further, Auntie!” Trick Step declares excitedly as he leads his aunt and uncle, Daring and Leaf, down a hallway in the damaged Canterlot Castle. He is wearing a hoof-made cape with a little shield on it, marking him a member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. The two adults have seen better days, as both Leaf and Daring are sporting bandages and tired expressions that are only slightly offset by their smiles. They are wearing clean uniforms, however, which is evident by the lack of dust and debris on them.

“What exactly is it you wanted to show us so badly?” Daring asks with a chuckle. “And couldn’t it have waited until after lunch? I was really looking forward to hearing more embarrassing stories about your uncle when he was a foal!” She looks over at Leaf whose ears go back against his head.

“No, obviously it couldn’t wait until after lunch, dear,” Leaf says slowly. “Clearly, Tricks has something important to show us! The fact that it keeps me from being the focus of embarrassing stories for a little while longer is just a very… pleasant side-effect.”

“You have only delayed your death by blushing, my dear,” Daring replies with a warm smile. “After all, you can’t fly away! I have you right where I want you!”

“You’re ground-bound too,” Leaf retors with a wink and smirk. “So, I think we both have each other right where we want.” He then looks over at Tricks as he stops in front of a door and sits down. “This it, Tricks?”

“It is,” Tricks states in a suddenly serious tone. “But, before you go inside, you both need to Pinkie Promise that you’ll take what I am going to show you seriously, and you’ll let us finish before you say yes or no.”

“Really?” Daring asks, raising an eyebrow. “Tricks, what is behind the door?”

“I won’t tell you unless you Pinkie Promise,” Tricks repeats firmly.

“Alright, but only because you’re the cutest nephew I’ve got,” Leaf chuckles.

“He’s your only nephew,” Daring sighs as she rolls her eyes, “but alright.”

Daring and Leaf go through the motions of a Pinkie Promise and then look to Tricks who nods firmly before turning the large door and opening it with his magic. He then looks to the two adults and motions with his head for them to follow, but says nothing as he enters the room with Daring and Leaf close behind.

The door leads to a large antechamber, which like the rest of the Castle had been damaged by the blast from the Shadowbolts’ cannon, and is currently playing host to a collection of foals all wearing the cape of the CMC. As Daring and Leaf enter, they can hear the soft hum of conversation between the groups, which is quickly cut short as one of the foals spots the rank of Daring’s uniform, and snaps to attention.

“Officer on deck!” the foal declares loudly, all the others around them quickly turning and snapping to attention as well. They all hold their straight backed poses as Daring and Leaf both sit down a short distance away in front of them. Tricks keeps going forward until he is standing close to the line of foals.

“Crusaders, at ease,” Tricks commands, the entire group relaxing in a very sloppy, yet respectable, imitation of the way the Guards and Wonderbolts act when a superior officer is in the room. Tricks turns and looks at Daring and Leaf with a smile, sitting down in front of his ‘troops’.

“So,” Daring starts as she raises an eyebrow, “you and your friends have been practicing?”

“Yup!” Tricks replies with a nod before clearing his throat. “I mean, yes, Senior Master Sergeant.”

“Why?” Daring asks, her tone becoming that of an officer and not an aunt.

“We want to help,” Tricks states, lifting his chin a little as if to challenge her to tell him no.

“How? There are so few of you,” Daring questions, gesturing with a hoof at the nine foals, including Tricks. “Even if I was inclined to accept your help, what could I do with so few of you?”

“With all due respect, Senior Master Sergeant Yearling,” a colt speaks up from the line as he steps forward. “These are only the Crusaders present in the Castle currently. There are more of us scattered throughout the city in the emergency shelters, perhaps, even by now, back on the surface.”

Looking the colt up and down, Daring cannot help but smile slightly. He is a young pegasus around the same age as Tricks, and is wearing a set of very well crafted armor beneath his CMC cape. In fact, if Daring got closer she is sure she’d see the same careful craftsmanship that the royal armorer puts into all his works in this armor as well.

“I doubt any of them would be fit for service,” Daring continues, her tone still one of an officer inspecting potential recruits. “You are all foals, hardly fit to be assisting the Guards and Reserves in the dirty work that is to come.”

“I beg to differ, Senior Master Sergeant.” the pegasus colt states firmly, punctuating his words with a stomp of a hoof. “I am a soldier of the Royal Guard, and an officer of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I will personally vouch for each and every pony in our ranks.”

“And what is your name?” Daring asks, unable to keep a smile from her face. “And why should I even consider this? You’ve yet to give me a single reason.”

“Quick Gust, ma’am,” Gust answers curtly. “Private Quick Gust.”

“I know of you, Private,” Daring chuckles. “You are Commander Dawn’s friend, are you not?”

“I am,” Gust states, puffing out his chest. “As well as Princess Luna’s friend.”

“Any pony who earns Princess Luna’s friendship is a pony I would serve beside,” Daring replies, nodding slowly. “But what of the reason?”

“It’s our city too,” another voice speaks up, a second pegasus, stepping forward, “and we deserve a chance to help it, and every pony in it!”

Daring regards this last colt who sits down next to Tricks and Gust. He is around the same age as the other two with an orange coat and a white-blue mane and tail. His green eyes look out at Daring with a conviction she knows all too well, for she sees it every time she looks in the mirror. Smiling slightly, she raises an eyebrow, gesturing with one hoof to the obvious attempt at a Wonderbolts’ uniform he is wearing under his cape.

“That uniform looks familiar, you one of mine?” Daring asks with a chuckle as she stands up and groans slightly as her bandages stretch.

“My father is a Wonderbolt, Miss Yearling,” the colt replies, standing a little straighter. “And I want to be a Wonderbolt like him. So I can’t just sit here and do nothing while my home is in ruins.”

“Hmmm,” Daring hums, walking closer and looking the colt’s dress shirt, complete with hoof-stitched Wonderbolts’ emblems, over. She frowns and sighs, shaking her head. “What’s your name?”

“Quick Spark,” Spark says quickly.

“Well, Quick Spark,” Daring says slowly, looking at Leaf behind her who is smiling encouragingly. “It’s a very good attempt at a Reserve uniform, but I fear I can’t let you wear it.” Spark’s ears go back against his head and he frowns, causing Daring to continue quickly. “I can’t let you wear it without the proper badge, that is.” She reaches up to a pocket and pulls out a Wonderbolts’ flight badge, and pins it to Spark’s shirt. “Since I am the acting Command Sergeant, I can ‘recruit’ you into the Reserves for now.” Spark stares at the badge on his chest, mouth open slightly and eyes wide as if he had just been given the most precious and amazing thing in the entire universe. “But, it means you’ll be working under me, and you and any of the other pegasus ‘Crusaders’ will have to follow my orders if they want to be associated with the Reserves.”

“And what about the rest of us?” Tricks asks quickly.

“Same goes for you,” Daring continues, standing up and pacing in front of the assembled Crusaders. “I’ve met the original Cutie Mark Crusaders, and if you all are like those three, I can’t just allow you all to roam free.” Daring pauses for a moment and shakes her head. “No, if you can get organized I’ll be willing to give you three some tasks, perhaps even talk to Commanders Dawn and Knight about it.”

Turning to look at the group Daring can’t help but smile as the nine foals suddenly scramble into ‘units’ of three. Tricks seems to have a pair of unicorns with him, Gust an earth pony and a unicorn, and Spark has a pair of pegasi (All three now wearing flight goggles) beside him.

“We’re already organized, Auntie,” Tricks states curtly. “We’ve been talking about this since that fortress appeared in the sky.”

“Well, then I guess the only thing to do,” Leaf speaks up from where he is sitting, a proud smile on his face, “is to get you all to the command center, and see about having the Crusaders take on some missions.”

“Yes,” Daring agrees, nodding as she looks at the CMC again. “Nothing serious, you understand. I am sure, however, there is a need for messengers and other such ponies right now. You might not earn your cutie marks, but then again, you just might.”

“Master Sergeant,” Gust speaks up, smiling softly as he inclines his head in a fashion very similar to Dawn. “It doesn’t matter if we get our cutie marks doing this. So long as we’re helping other ponies, that is enough for us.”

“Very well,” Daring states, turning and walking to the door. “Let us go to the ballroom, and see about speaking with Commanders Dawn and Knight. They are likely in need of some young and eager volunteers to help them run messages.” The cutie mark crusaders all follow her as she opens the door and exits into the hallway. They all eagerly laugh and chat, talking of how Daring won’t regret giving them this chance to help! Smiling to Leaf, who returns the smile in earnest, Daring hopes that she really doesn’t regret this choice, as Tricks and his friends really do seem to want to help.

About halfway to the ballroom that has been serving as the command center, Gust stops and facehoofs.

“Oh, hay,” Gust says under his breath, but loud enough for Daring to hear. “I forgot my helmet.” He looks to Daring who raises an eyebrow at him. “I can’t present myself to Commander Dawn without my full uniform!” He then scuffs an armored hoof against the ground as he looks down at his hooves. “Plus… it was a gift from Lu… the Princess, I don’t want to lose it in the rubble.”

“I’ll go get it,” Daring offers, looking to Leaf who smiles encouragingly. “You should stay with your friends. I’m good at finding things, anyway, so I should get it before you’re to the ballroom.”

“O-okay ma’am,” Gust says, saluting. “I’ll wait outside the ballroom entrance for you.” He then turns and follows after his friends, who in their excitement have continued on down the hallway.

Chuckling, Daring turns around and heads back down the hallway, whistling to herself as she goes. The enthusiasm of the group of foals is a breath of fresh air, as many of the older ponies are already battle-weary and disheartened. But then, Daring can’t blame any of them; Canterlot just had a major chunk of it blown to Tartarus and then some. Even Daring is feeling it, injuries aside, and if she had her way she’d take Leaf, go find a nice quiet corner of the Castle, and…
“Jim, your tea is getting cold,” a voice, which sounds surprisingly like Witching Hour, comes from behind the door to the room that Daring and company had left not that long ago. “If you don’t stop playing with that model and get over here, I won’t listen to you complain about it being cold.”

“But, I have to diagram the assault on the Shadowbolts’ Fortress!” a second voice, this one male, replies. “I have to figure out just where Rat, Cloak, and Dagger are going to end up during the whole thing!”

“Oh, come now, Mr Hoxworth,” a third voice, this one Daring knows to belong to Discord, chimes in. “That is still quite a ways off, several chapters to be precise!”

Walking quietly over to the door, Daring carefully opens it slightly and peers inside. As she does so, a fourth and fifth voice reach her.

“I’d love to look over your work, Prose.” This voice is also familiar, though as Daring looks towards its source she quickly figures out why. “Though, I am rather busy at the moment. I need to get the next few installments of my own stuff written.” The voice belongs to a rather large blue pony that Daring has seen once or twice around the Compound during her visits. Calm Wind? Yes, that’s his name…

“T-take your time, no rush, Calm!” The last voice, and this one Daring knows all too well! Looking slightly over to one side of Calm, who is surrounded by a massive amount of paper, is her editor and publisher, Epic Prose. “I mean, it’s not… really going anywhere! Plus, you’re so busy, I… wouldn’t dream of pulling you away from your stuff.” Prose has a smaller stack of paper next to him, and is tapping two forehooves together and looking at the tea in front of him as if he is contemplating diving in.

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake, Prose,” Witchy sighs, gesturing with the hoof that isn’t holding her tea. “Calm doesn’t bite!” She then looks at Discord, who seems to be sewing a puppet in the likeness of her. “And really, please don’t put wings on that puppet! Nopony knows about that yet, I haven’t even written the story!”

“My dear, dear Witching Hour,” Discord coos, his tail wrapping around her shoulders. “I know, and so does Calm, Prose, and Mr Hoxworth over there!” He points to a pony off to one side who is playing with a scale model of the Shadowbolts’ flying fortress. “Besides, no one ever takes me seriously, so your secret's safe with me!”

Witch rolls her eyes and removes Discord’s tail from her shoulders as she takes a sip of her tea. She then lifts a quill with her magic and starts writing on a piece of paper in front of her own stack of paper.

Blinking, Daring shakes her head as she tries to figure out just what she is looking at, but when she opens her eyes again and looks back to where the group was, the room is now empty save for a helmet sitting in the center.

Furrowing her brow, Daring enters the room fully, and walks up to the helmet, which is the right size for a foal, and picks it up. Underneath she finds a note, and a tin of her favorite tea. Sighing, knowing that this must be another one of Discord’s many tricks, she picks the note up and reads it as she carefully tucks the tin of tea under one wing with the helmet beside it.

Hello Daring,
Sorry you couldn’t join me and the others for tea, but there are rules about these things! I hope you enjoyed your little glimpse into the chaos that is what lays behind the veil! Don’t think too hard on it, though, you might get a headache!

~Discord

Rolling her eyes, she balls the note up and tosses it over a shoulder as she turns and heads back out the door. One of these days, Discord is going to stop being annoying, and just cross into the territory of blatant nuisance. Perhaps then she’ll be able to convince Luna that turning him back into stone, even if only for a week or two, would be a good reprieve from his antics. She wonders how Witch is doing, because she likely wasn’t as calm and collected as that illusion -- because surely that was an illusion conjured by Discord -- was. No, likely she was rushing about helping her fellow Wonderbolts tend to injuries and cursing the Shadowbolts in the moments of stillness. Hopefully she was well, and would return to Tricks whole and ready to continue being a good mother to him.

Lost in thought, Daring almost doesn’t spot Gust walk out in front of her until she is almost on top of him. Stopping and shaking her head again she smiles to Gust and offers his helmet to him.

“Here, I got your helmet back,” Daring says in an even tone. “Shall we see if the others have figured out what tasks suit them and their little ‘squads’?”

Taking his helmet and placing it on his head and becoming quite the spitting image of a little royal guard, Gust nods and sweeps one hoof towards the door. “Mares first, Miss Yearling.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Dawn,” Daring chuckles as she heads to the door and enters with a smile on her face. Perhaps things will start looking up from here, the city has already been leveled, what else could possibly happen?

Off in an unused, and thus a corner no eyes are looking into, a fly on the wall with a beard and rather large, mismatched eyes, chuckles. “Oh, Daring, if only you knew…”

Author's Notes:

And, here is chapter 3, in which we see that not all of the High Class is totally destroyed, just... mostly all of it.

Fancy and his wife return to a manor house that has been all but completely destroyed, save for the dining room and some of the center rooms. Perhaps they shall make something of this? As many a pony will be without shelter, and food, for that matter!

And, we also return to our favorite changeling Doctor, Ember, who belongs to my fellow EW author Zol. I imagine all the stuff that has happened to the city an it's citizens would really not be all that fun for a changeling, so I hope I reflected that well with her. Not to mention, I also got to poke more at people's hearts with that young Canterlot CMC member talking about her dad and uncle! Both of which are KIA, just to be clear on that.

And, of course, we get to meet (At last) the offical chapter of the CMC in Canterlot! It's founding members are Trick Step, Quick Gust, and Quick Spark! Tricks is Witching Hours, Gust is mine, and we share Spark! Of course, they want to help the city, and they shall! The Guards and Reserves being as depeleted as they are, require messangers and helpers!

Oh, and I hope you all enjoyed the fourth wall breaking apart and my fellow authors having a tea party with Discord! It's been a long-standing inside joke between me and my fellow authors. The only one not pictured was Zol, who might show up in later chapters ;3