The night was lit by screaming flares, as they shrieked over the city walls of Rôstôs; and the cannons continued their constant barrage, just as they had for the past five days. Tempest felt the boom of each gun in the ground, and in the air. Somehow, she had nearly gotten used to the choir of destruction; enough that she almost made it through the night without waking up. Even the daily patrols in the sky weren't tiring enough to get her through Aharôs's tactic of all-day, all-night bombardment. It was certainly wearing out the soldiers of Athair. I wonder what it's doing to the Verâdîm behind the walls, or what's left of them... Tempest was glad she wasn't in there.

“There's a morbid beauty to it, don't you think?” Prince Aharôs asked. The two were on the hill he was commanding from, watching the siege go on. “Fire is an awesome thing. Fearsome, but awesome.” Tempest looked up into the sky, lit orange by the fires burning in Rôstôs. They had gone on and off for three days; she hadn't seen the city clear of fire since last night, however.

“How much longer can we keep this up?” Asked the blue-grey pegasus.

“Only a few more days, then our powder runs out. Or our shot. I'm not sure which will go first. We continue to receive supplies from the fleet, now that we're on the coast, but they can't keep it up indefinitely.” Replied Aharôs. “Of course, the city will be ours by tomorrow evening.”

“What's left of it.” Tempest remarked.

“What's left of it.” Affirmed the Prince. “Word will spread, though. Prince Aharôs does not take kindly to insults.” That's obvious now, thought she. Temepst distinctly recalled what the city mayor's response was to the demand for surrender. “Fuck you, and fuck your claim!” The mayor had shouted down from the battlements, shortly before several bodies had been thrown at them from behind the walls. A quick investigation revealed them to be from Reshîv's army, captured at some point in the war.

The natural response for Prince Aharôs had been to devastate the city with an indiscriminate, unceasing bombardment. Tomorrow, the assault would come.

After watching the morbid beauty of the fires, as the Prince had called it, Tempest retired to her tent. Equestrian hearing was far more sensitive than human, too much time near the batteries would surely be harmful. Snowy was already sleeping in her own curtained-off section. The mare certainly slept a lot for how little work she did, if she actually did any work at all... I'll have to ask her what she's been doing in my absence.

She did just that the next morning before dawn; Streaming Breeze could wait to begin their patrol.

“What is it you do all day, Snowy?” Asked Tempest.

“Uh... Um...” The other pegasus stared up at the tent's cloth ceiling, not keen on being woken up so early. “R-reading, mostly.”

“Reading what?”

“The Kaiathîsa.” Snowy answered, yawning.

“Kaiathîsa? Wait- that's in High Tarsen, no one around here but the clergy knows that.” The blue-grey pegasus said, confused. Why would she be reading their holy book?

“Brenan has been t-teaching me it for the past few years.” Admitted Snowy, looking off to the side. “It's really not too- not too hard.”

“Snowy, there's over a hundred different possible endings to every noun in High Tarsen! What do you mean it's not too hard?” Protested Tempest, raising a hoof.

“L-less than a hundred-”

“Still! There's a lot, and that's just the nouns! Add in all the tenses, and voices...” She shook her head. “How do you keep it all straight?”

“Maybe I'm t-talented in language?” Guessed the biege mare. “But that's w-what I've been doing while you're g-gone. It's- It's what I've been doing for months, actually.”

“I should pay more attention to what you do.” Noted Tempest, turning to leave. “I'll be back around sunset.”

“The b-book's been around for a while...” Snowy remarked. She looked in the direction of the thunderous cannonfire with unease, clearly audible even from the camp. “Be careful out there.”

The patrol with Streaming Breeze was shorter than usual, due to Aharôs's scheduling of the assault for midday. Both pegasi scanned the surrounding area for any enemy reinforcements, or perhaps another messenger team from Prince Reshîv. As usual, they saw nothing out in the countryside; only farms, hedges, trees, and streams; not to mention livestock. It was an overcast sky they flew under, Tempest didn't dare get too close for fear of even the small weight of water vapor would bring her down. They say clouds can be landed upon in Equestria... Not here, though. Clouds were cold and wet and very far off the ground.

Everything looked calm below, excluding the choir of destruction Aharôs had playing in the distance. It was amazing how far sound could carry, perhaps the clouds were aiding it today? Tempest noticed Streaming Breeze dip towards her. “We're all clear, my queen. Shall we return?” She yelled over the wind.

“Back to camp.” Agreed the blue-grey pegasus. The two turned tail, and began the spiraling descent that would take them to the ground. For the dark red mare, such a feat was easy in her light armor of boiled leather. But for Tempest, the task was greatly complicated by the heavy metal she wore. At least I can deflect most shots... However, it came at a messy cost. Tempest spread her wings as wide as she could and tried to slow down as much as possible, dragging her hooves along the ground as much as she dared, but she still ended up practically crashing. Last week, it had been easier, if dirtier, because of the soft mud. But things had dried out now, crashing was much rougher. God damn! swore she, plowing into the ground and ending up upside down, as Streaming Breeze glided to a perfectly performed stop before her eyes. Is nothing easy? Tempest wondered, too shaken to try rolling over, let alone standing.

“I t-told you to be careful!” Scolded Snowy with worry, suddenly appearing above her. “You're going to- to break something-”

“I'll be fine.” Sighed the blue-grey pegasus. She wasn't annoyed at her friend, merely tired. “I know what I'm doing.”

“No...” Snowy grumbled, looking away.

“Maybe you shouldn't fly with so much armor?” Suggested Streaming Breeze, as she joined Snowy in staring down at her.

“Aharôs says I need it.” Replied the blue-grey pegasus.

“Is the Prince your father, my queen?” The red mare questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yes-” Tempest stopped herself too late, as she rolled over into a prone position. “No! No. Prince Aharôs is my guardian, as appointed by my mother. I have to listen to him.”

“Hmmph.” Snorted Streaming Breeze, unsatisfied with the answer. Why don't you just sneak off to Equestria too, then? Tempest wanted to say, abandon me like all the others. But she didn't say that; instead, she said something worse:

“At least someone cares what happens to me.”

The dark red mare took on a greatly offended expression, sneering silently before quickly trotting off. Oh, you fucked up now, Tempest.

“Lord of Heaven... Y-you really just said that?” Remarked Snowy with incredulity. All Tempest's pegasi knew Streaming Breeze had a foalhood full of neglect before being taken in to the Blackwind army... “What if- if I said something about actually having a m-mother?”

“You couldn't because whatever your mother did to you, it was enough to make our company preferable to returning home.” The blue-grey pegasus quickly countered, before realizing she had done it again. God damn it all! she raged within. “Shit! No! Snowy, I- I didn't mean-”

“I understand.” Snowy said quietly, ears falling straight down. “It's the t-truth. And you- you meant it. Don't say otherwise. B-but I know you weren't- weren't intending to harm.” She paused for a moment, before offering a slight smile. “You know, there's a- a lot of Aharôs in you.”

“Yeah, there really is.” Agreed Tempest, not sure if she sounded resigned or downright dejected. Constant fuck-ups, unpleasant to be around, few friends... “I don't know if it's good or bad.” Snowy shrugged, signaling her unknowing on the issue as well. In a few short minutes, the two got the opportunity to compare Tempest's behavior to Aharôs in person, as they met the Prince on his hilltop, just when the batteries ceased their bombardment. Below, just as at Seshîlîon, the columns had been assembled. The silence of the cannons was unnerving after several days of constant firing. Even at midday, the smoke from Rôstôs was making everything darker than it ought to have been. Somewhere down there was Sir Turaz, and Baron Kairôs, Mayor Pashal, and the other members of the leadership fit for battle. Aharôs, Îrilôs, Hearth Blackwind, and a few others remained behind. Trumpets sounded, and the columns began to advance towards the shattered remains of the city walls.

“It'll be over soon.” Commented the Prince, looking through his spyglass at the charred husks of buildings. “A shame it came to this.”

“Y-y-you didn't h-have to...” Snowy remarked quietly, strategically positioned behind Tempest. At this, Aharôs scoffed.

“I suppose we should have let the Verâdîm deny law of succession and elect one of their own nobles as the new king?” He asked her. “King Fâôs of Verâd was my uncle. He died with no family. Therefore, his cousin, my father, inherited his crown. I inherit my father's crown. Verâd is mine by right, as is Athair, for that matter. That's the law, Lady Snowy.”

“That m-makes this even- even worse, then.” Sighed the beige mare. “Family a-against family...”

“No, that's my half-brother and I. The war on the Verâdîm is against a band of traitors. They're no family of mine.” Prince Aharôs corrected. Snowy frowned silently, ears drooping. As for herself, Tempest simply stood impartially. The Verâdîm are no better than the Swiftrains and their supporters. They're getting what's coming them.

Distant volleys of shots echoed, as plumes of white smoke drifted up near the wall ruins. The battle had begun. None of the Athairîm commanders seemed content with a ranged battle, the columns continued on in their assault formation, intending to roll over the defenders through sheer numbers. It seems to be a standard Athairîm tactic to simply overwhelm the enemy, noted Tempest, suddenly wondering why she have never actually been taught strategy and tactics for battle. Sir Turaz always had her focusing more on close combat than anything else... Tempest reckoned that anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes passed before the first Athairîm broke through the wall defenses, shattered as they were.

“It seems the Thechai men are doing quite fine.” Noted Duke Îrilôs, who had found a folding chair to sit in at some point.

“So it does.” Agreed Hearth Blackwind, who was content to sit only on a small blanket on the ground. The aging stallion had a shadow under his eyes, and he seemed to have lost weight recently. He really isn't well, observed Tempest grimly.

“Hopefully Baron Kairôs will be able to cover the breakthroughs from Turaz and Pashal.” Aharôs said.

“The Verâdîm are likely to retreat back into the city, Prince.” Tempest's uncle said. “The Swiftrains did that a few times to us, in the first half of the war.”

“No doubt.” Prince Aharôs answered with a nod. “In that case, we torch what's left of the city and anything left inside burns.” The cold determination in his voice spoke of no bluff.

“I hope the price for victory is worth it. There are... things being said, my prince. Most terrible things.” Hearth continued. The soldiers whisper that he's held congress with demons, or other dark powers. From what Snowy had said, that didn't seem impossible. The humans were a religious kind, always ready to see evil at work in the world. This time, they might have been onto something. And that's what unnerves me. The day the Kaiathîsa becomes more than a book of myths is the day... She wasn't sure how to finish that thought. Tempest had never even so much as listened to a reading of it. Maybe Snowy could help with that? Maybe.

“Let the commoners talk.” Growled Aharôs. “They've lied about me before, they'll lie about me again.”

“If only you lived up to their expectations.” Îrilôs sighed in mock lament.

“To sacrifice who you are is a fate worst than death.” Spat back the Prince, frowning intently at the city. The Imperial Envoy rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Below, the battle continued along the wall, Athairîm forces breaking through at multiple points. Choked by the constant smoke and rattled by several solid days of cannonfire, it wasn't long before the Verâdîm garrison began to break. There's so little green out there... Tempest observed, not thinking of the grass or plants, but rather of the enemy. Seshîlîon had been much the same, as had Dôrovôs Tower. In fact, the entire country seemed to be pressed for men of fighting age. Can twenty years of war really make young men so scarce?

“How many Verâdîm have died in this war?” Asked Tempest, suddenly desiring to do a bit of math. Rather, have math done for me... The Prince gave her a curious look.

“I have no idea. The 1480 census placed the population of Verâd at eight hundred thousand or so. But that was twenty-four years ago, there's been an entire generation since then.” He replied.

“Snowy, how many men between sixteen and and thirty do you think there would be out of eight hundred thousand?” Questioned the blue-grey pegasus. Snowy looked up at the sky, mouth moving silently as she counted to herself.

“Well, a-about forty-eight thousand. But probably less than- than twenty-thousand would be able to reach a battlefield at any given time...” Mused the other mare.

“Our own army is roughly fifteen-thousand strong.” Added in Aharôs. “Reshîv started out with twenty-five thousand when he began his campaign four years ago, but I'd bet there's far less than half of those men remaining with him.”

“But how many have died in the war?” Tempest re-stated, knowing how distracted from the main topic her friend and guardian could get. Again, Snowy went quiet, this time for about half a minute.

“One hundred and eight th-thousand, or so; assumming one in- in ten of those fourty-eight thousand died every year since 14- 1483.” Stated Snowy. “B-but I could be very wrong, with- with- without knowing the r-rate of birth in Verâd. It could be h-higher, it could be lower.”

“Don't forget about diseases spread by armies, famines from poor harvests, and so forth.” Added in Îrilôs. “That could easily add in another hundred thousand.” Between Snowy and Îrilôs, the Prince seemed to be silenced. There was a look of disgruntled conflict upon him, as if he could not decide how to respond. If I found out my war for Highcrest could've killed a quarter of a million ponies, I'd feel bad too... But the difference between Aharôs and she was that Aharôs was actually doing this. He had given the decree to continue the war when the Verâdîm had offered a truce and negotiations in 1490. Not his father, not his half-brother; Prince Aharôs Loiar.

“The price of treason.” He said flatly, returning to his mask of steel. Snowy and Tempest exchanged a worried glance, while Îrilôs looked to be nearly excited; out of nervousness or genuine anticipation, Tempest couldn't tell. Hearth Blackwind looked on tiredly.

A few minutes later, a runner returned from the battle. “My Prince,” he bowed, pausing to breath, “we've breached... the walls in multiple... places. What are your orders?” He panted.

“Where have the Verâdîm retreated to?” Asked Aharôs.

“Inside the buildings.” The runner replied.

“Burn it all down. No one escapes.” Ordered the Prince.

“My prince, there are still-”

“The price of treason.” Repeated Aharôs, staring at the city. “The price of treason is death. Give the order to Kairôs, Turaz, and Pashal. Torch it. Then, pull our men back, the cannons will assist with this.”

“Yes, my prince.” Bowed the runner again, before departing.

“Aharôs- you can't just destroy a city full of people!” Protested Tempest, disbelieving but sadly not shocked.

“I can, and I will.” The Prince stated. Îrilôs glanced at him with mild surprise; though he did not say anything.

“Oh no...” Whispered Snowy, ears falling downward. I saw this coming, remarked Tempest to herself. It was some ten minutes before orange glows began to flare in the city once again; some still were burning from the cannonfire. The fires in Rôstôs entranced her; morbidly and eerily beautiful, just as the Prince said. They lit the sky with their brightness, not a difficult feat as the sun began to set. Tempest was snapped from her reverie by the sudden thunder of the cannon batteries; which also caused Snowy to jump in fright. “Can w-we go back?” She asked, cringing at the blasts. Snowy had never reacted well to loud sounds.

“Yeah, I'll be right behind you.” Answered the blue-grey pegasus, turning to leave. Before she did go, however, she looked at Aharôs. Is that who I could be? asked Tempest to herself, recalling Snowy's comment earlier in the day. Could I rationalize that kind of destruction to myself? If they really were so similar... Such a notion chilled her. Tempest didn't want to turn into that kind of person.

Aharôs continued to gaze sternly at the burning city, expression hard and cold. That's not who I want to be... But what if it's already there? Hopefully, she'd never find out.

“Th-the sooner this ends, the better.” Sighed Snowy, when they returned to their own tent. Immediately, she jumped onto her cot and curled up, head resting on her forelegs. She was obviously discomforted by the whole affair.

“Couldn't agree more.” Tempest replied with a nod, wondering how many people were still in the city. Five thousand? Ten thousand? Surely no more then fifteen thousand... It was surreal, in a way; that so many could be dying as she thought, and yet she didn't feel the same horror she felt after taking her first life weeks before. Nonetheless, Tempest too was not in a good state of mind. “I thought we were the good side. Upholding the law, striking down an unjust rebellion... This isn't right.”

“Not at all.” Snowy replied. She pushed a black book off the collapsable table by her cot, a black book with a distinct silver star on it. Why haven't I noticed that before now? It was a question for another day, Tempest decided to take the chance to catch up on her sleep and go to bed early. Upon the arrival of morning, Tempest again decided to catch up further, and did not get up. No one came to get her up, either. Once again, she missed breakfast, as she laid half-asleep, dreaming up adventures to all the distant places she'd seen on maps.

What were they like? Ar-Athazîon had the greatest works of architecture known to man, towers so tall they had taken generations to build. Nîralska, at the southern end of Sarathûl, was famed for its beautiful, warm coasts, where fruit could grow year round and cold was but a myth; the land where pepper and cinammon were grown. It was stopping point for migrating dragons, too! Further to the west was the arid Fôsa, sitting below the Peaks of Heaven and guarding the way to Lazkadai. All along the eastern side of Peaks of Heaven, the land was desolate and barren, not but dust, rock, and small desert shrubs; before it slowly transitioned to greener scenery. They called it Ôvaiîn. It all belonged to a collection of nations, but none of them paid that region much heed. It was a part of the appeal to Tempest, a place often ignored could hold such great things. But the likelihood she or Snowy would ever get there was almost as poor as the notion of going to Lazkadai. The likelihood of seeing any of these places was slim at best. She probably would never make it further west than the Dashavon or further north than Dônara-Kur. All those amazing things out there, just waiting to be seen... And she'd never get that far.

Tempest rolled off of her bed dejectedly, already defeated before the day had begun. It was an all-too-frequent feeling in the past few weeks. No, not weeks, not even months; this had been going on for over a year. Almost everything Tempest felt alternated between frustration, fear, and... loneliness, of all things. All I want is for things to be normal! But what was normal? Nothing ever had been normal. The more she thought, the more irritated she got.

“Oh, y-you're up!” Greeted Snowy cheerily, looking over in her direction from her cot. She was sitting and still looking at that book. “I- I saved you some food from breakfast.” The biege mare pointed to a plate covered by a cloth.

“Wonderful.” Tempest said, frowning.

“Is s-something wrong?” Asked the other pegasus, smile slipping away.

“No.”

“Was it something I said?” She asked again, looking worried. “What d-did I do?”

“No.” Replied Tempest, trying not to sound as exhasperated as she did. “It's not you; you're fine. I'm just not hungry.” It was obvious that Snowy didn't buy it, but she said no more on the subject, too afraid of angering Tempest any more. I'm really not being fair to her... But what was she supposed to do? Confess all these stupid little doubts and angers? Right. That'd just make her look weak, foolish, childish. That's not who Tempest Blackwind was. “I'm going to find Aharôs. Coming?” Snowy looked to her book and back to Tempest, before she stood. Guess she is concerned.

As it turned out, Prince Aharôs was inside the city, overseeing the execution of traitors. Neither mare stayed long to watch, they didn't even move to speak to him. Snowy ended up getting sick when she saw the carts of charred bodies being hauled out for proper disposal. Dead from the fires. Indeed, fires were still burning, even now.

“This- this i-i-is a nightmare.” She stammered weakly, looking at the blackened skeletons of buildings along the hill they were climbing.

“I thought Seshîlîon was bad...” Tempest said, careful not to be too loud, lest she break the silence any more. Aharôs, what are you doing? If she knew the answer... No, Tempest didn't know the answer. There was no point in wondering that. But one thing was for certain, and it was that Aharôs was going to end this war, no matter the cost. Out in the harbor were the ships from Tashan and Sturaj, four-masted vessels with two decks of cannons. Each one had the blue flower of Athair, and some bore the crown above it, signaling their belonging to the King. Soon, these ships would be departing to join the fleet outside Dônara-Kur, the capital of Verâd and heart of the rebellion. The land column would march through the coastal hils and then begin the fight to secure the valley of the river Zachîr. From there, who knew what would happen.

One thing was for certain, the war would be over well before midsummer, and everyone would be home by Saint Zefîr's Day. But the fields would go unharvested in Verâd; Tempest wasn't sure if there would be anyone left to harvest.

Author’s note: Meant to have this out on Saturday morning, remembered I had a camping trip for the whole weekend. So there you have it. Verâd is pretty much fucked. Makes you wonder why our protagonists didn’t win sooner... But if they tried this in 1500 instead of 1504, everyone would have died at Seshîlîon. And what's the point of a story where everyone died in chapter eight because the author was being realistic? No, my reader, 1504 is the beginning of interesting times... And that's when stories happen.