So they’d made discreet and intimate love. Outlandish as it may be, they bridged two worlds, two species, and even two realities of what is possible and what is impossible. Rather than theirs being a narrative of love conquering in the face of adversity, they were drawn together because they were each other’s adversaries. They argued and fought and challenged each other to be more than what they had been. An intimacy was born out of mutual respect and a genuine desire to share their individualities. Then, in sharing, they realized that they were not so very different. Two dresses can look very different yet still be cut from the same cloth. There was no outside conflict to their love. There was only what they thought of themselves and what they made of each other.

Neither were suspect to how quickly a real outside conflict would arise to confront them.

Daemeon opened his eyes and shook the sleepiness of afterglow out of him. Night had come. The darkening blue had quit the horizon entirely. No natural light lit the world around them. It was not dark though. That city of eight million was not prone to sleep. The man watched with an absence that bordered on indifference as cars continued to whizz by on the street ahead of them. There had never been, nor would there ever be a cessation of the commotion about them. It made him yearn for another empty apartment to squat in, someplace with a warm bed he could bring his new lover to.

His own musings caused his arms to reflexively squeeze his lover tenderly. Her four hooves were pressed firmly to his chest, and her warm breath rolled over his neck like a hot summer breeze clashing with the cold around them. Though he did not attempt to ask or check for himself, he was sure she slept. He did not want to do anything to awaken her. The mere thought that she should trust and take such comfort in him that she should sleep upright in his arms caused him to refrain even from shivering. Waking his sweet love from her slumber simply would not do.

“But neither will freezing to death,” the man thought in the darkness. “I guess it’s time to see if we will be warm tonight.”

Taking care not to disturb his mare, Daemeon slid up the wall to his feet and rounded back to the great cathedral’s entrance. Once at the door, the ragged man grimaced at the realization that he would have to wake his mare with loud knocking. Before doing so however, he very offhandedly placed a hand on the door handle and gave a tug. To his infinite surprise, as such a thing had never happened in his last twenty years of life, the door opened with ease despite Daemeon being certain that there was no church holiday that occasioned a night sermon. He might have stopped to consider the quandary right then and there, but the cold compelled him to enter, closing the portal behind him.

Daemeon took in the dark lighting of the towering structure’s interior with the familiarity of a sunday morning riser. It thus did not take him long to narrow his gaze on a single, liver spotted head sticking out amidst one of the pews closest to the door. With equal familiarity, Daemeon approached the figure and took a seat beside it. Neither of them regarded the others’ face. Both were content to look forward towards the altar with a single candle burning atop it.

Many moments passed in quiet before the younger heard the elder whisper, “I was hoping you would come tonight.”

Genuine surprise touched his voice though he did not show it on his face. “Never heard that one before. Why would you hope I’d show up?”

“I didn’t want to die alone.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

“So, uh, no hard feelings about the robes?”

“Does it look like I give a crap?”

“No.”

Silence again.

Having little else to say, Daemeon mumbled, “I guess not.”

The younger man felt the eyes of the older shift and pour over him. “You look sad,” the old priest stated matter-of-factly.

“Why?”

Indeed, a heavy frown bent there. Daemeon could not hide it, nor did he make any effort to do so. In an unusually genuine display of affection, he replied, “I’m going to miss you.”

Seeming amused, Fr. Allen leaned back and grunted, “I suppose I was a pretty sweet deal for you. Maybe now you’ll finally get a damned job. Maybe something that’s nine to five with the occasional day of paid vacation would be good for you.” Giving a painful, phlegm filled cough, he concluded, “It’s not the most exciting life, but it can certainly be a comfortable one.”

The man scoffed slightly before commenting sadly, “You know there’s no way I could go to a life like that. I’m too old to become anything other than the man I am.”

“Is that remorse I hear?” Fr. Allen whispered in harsh indignation. Giving a heavy sigh, he spoke somewhat bitterly, “Why couldn’t you have shown a little remorse ten years ago, a year ago, even a month ago? We might have been able to do something about it then. It’s too late now, you fool. Why did I have to be dying for you to start giving a crap?”

Daemeon took the berating in stride. He was used to it. Fr. Allen had never been one for words of comfort. He always said what needed to be heard, not what others wanted to hear. It was for that reason that he’d never been one to do sermons. He was little more to the church than a watch dog despite all his years of service. At least, this was how Daemeon saw the situation.

His heart heavy, he answered, “It’s not because you’re dying. If you had died two days ago, I would not have cared at all. Never mind the fact that you were the closest thing to a friend I’ve had in many, many years. Things have kind of flipped my life upside down in the last couple days though.”

Daemeon’s sad face turned to a scowl as he heard the ancient man at his side break into absurd laughter that sounded like a hellish cackle from some demon dancing Walpurgis Night away. He was about to give a vocal rebuke when the priest surprised him by asking, “You fell in love with someone, didn’t you?”

He couldn’t remember ever having blushed before.

Fr. Allen shook his head, the smile still beaming from his near toothless mouth. “You’re hopeless. I’d almost given up completely on you. I really had. I’d thought there was no way you would let yourself get close enough to someone to find love. And yet, here you are blushing like a babe. Now I’m certain God let me live this long just to see this moment.”

Daemeon’s blush only got fiercer as he heard a very feminine giggle slip out of the confines of his hoody. Trying hard to muster a more composed face, he demanded, “What do you know about love, priest? Are you such a mockery to your title that you break your own vows?”

Having too much fun in Daemeon’s anger, the priest answered, “More than you ever could, I know love. I love God, and He loves me. I know absolute love, and that’s something you will never understand. As to my vows, I’ve seen enough couples married to know what romantic love looks like without having to go against a single promise I made in faith to my marriage. But enough of that. Tell me, does the unlucky man or woman have a name? Or are they as nameless as yourself?”

Daemeon’s mouth puckered as he tried to formulate an answer. Much to his surprise and horror, he was not the one to answer the old man’s question, “My name’s Colgate Minuette.”

The two men became suddenly very silent as they both turned their heads to regard the scathingly obvious hump beneath Daemeon’s clothing. Having already been minorly curious, Fr. Allen’s eyes were now wide open as he asked, “You have a person under there?”

Being too stunned to restrain her, Daemeon let Colgate slide out of his grasp and emerge from beneath the cloth. Brushing her tangled mane out of her face, she looked up at the decrepit old man with a gleaming smile and stated, “I prefer the term pony, if you please. I’m not at all a human as you can see.”

Fr. Allen was slow to respond to the impossibility of a talking unicorn. Several scenarios ran through his head as he tried to explain away the creature before him. If he were a more wishing and creative man, he might have concluded that the mare was a product of God’s love or other such business. Being much too dull for a fanciful fairytale such as that, he came to a different conclusion, one that suited his mind perfectly as not only being a reasonable answer but also the only possible answer for a talking unicorn. Giving yet another painful laugh, Fr. Allen derided himself, “I knew this all was too good to be true!”

Confusion lit both the mare’s and her man’s faces as they gazed at the unexpected reaction of the man. Colgate turned to look at Daemeon who only answered her questioning stare with a perplexed shrug. Colgate's confusion morphed into worry as the priest’s laughing turned into deathly coughing. Out of an impulse rooted deep into even brute beasts, she stepped forward and placed a comforting hoof on the man’s back, asking, “Are you going to be okay?”

Fr. Allen seemed to let a bit of his insanity slip away at the touch. He calmed his coughing fit and leaned back once more. When he was finally able to catch his breath, he mumbled, “And here I thought my prayers had been answered.”

“What prayers? What do you mean?” Daemeon demanded softly.

Giving a sidelong glance, Fr. Allen explained, “I knew it was all too convenient, that you should show up the night of my passing with words of reconciliation. I almost believed them too. But now I see God is only humoring me. You are not here, and neither is she. This is a dream, albeit an amusing one. I suppose I might also already be dead, but if that’s the case then heaven is far more of a bore than I would have imagined.”

“But, mister, I’m not a,” Colgate stopped as she felt Daemeon’s firm hand fall on her shoulder. She looked at him, and he gave her a shake of his head. Understanding came quickly to her. Though she was in fact real, there would be no good consequence to arguing otherwise. Instead, she resigned herself to being a mere phantasm in the older man’s eyes. She turned away from Daemeon and did something that solicited a touch more jealousy than Daemeon would liked to have admitted. The mare crawled into Fr. Allen’s lap and rested her head against his shallowly breathing bosom.

Colgate’s weight caused the man to look down and smile. Lifting a trembling hand, he rested it on her head and let it follow the length of her gossamer furred back. The mare did not shudder in delight at the touch as she did with Daemeon, but she took pleasure in it nonetheless if only because she knew it gave pleasure to the man before her. And this was clearly the case as she saw that near toothless grin light his face again as he remarked, “Well aren’t you just a friendly, wee little lass?”

Daemeon’s mare giggled and answered, “You seem plenty nice enough for a cuddle. I’ve already told you my name. What’s yours?”

Continuing the gentle petting, the priest offered in a most unprofessional manner, “It’s Allen. Allen Slavinski to be precise. But you can call me Father.”

Furrowing her brow in confusion, Colgate asked, “Why would I call you father? You’re not my father.”

Giving a soft chuckle, Fr. Allen explained, “Of course I’m not your father. Even if I were father to somebody, I doubt they’d be as sweet as you. No. I am not father to you alone, but to all who love our heavenly Father.”

“God?”

“Yes,” he answered slowly, thoughtfully. There seemed to be almost a note of hesitance in his voice as he spoke the word. His gaze took in Colgate’s impossibly huge, crystal blue eyes. After a moment’s silence, he concluded, “But let’s not talk about Him. I’ll be seeing Him soon enough. Tell me, little Miss Minuette, how it is that you are invading my dreams?”

Answering both honestly and simplistically, she returned, “Daemeon and I needed a warm place to sleep tonight. So, we came here. Is that alright with you?”

Grinning, he said, “I only wish I had a bed for you. I suppose the pews will have to do. Before you go to sleep though, please tell me a story.”

Perplexed, she asked, “A story?”

“Yes, do!” Bringing his hand down for one last petting, he wrapped his arms around her in a hug that was tender but weak and cold with age. “I don’t remember ever having a dream this fun before. Tell me a story. You must have a good one to tell, otherwise I wouldn’t be asking.”

Colgate’s confusion twisted into a mirthful grin as she answered, “I’m not sure I follow your logic there, but I’ll try my best.”

Silence ruled for a few moments as Colgate wondered to herself, “I don’t even know any stories! Humans are so weird and touchy feely. Then again, he does think I’m just a dream. What would I tell him. I don’t even read novels. They’re boring. Then again,” she mused with a soft smile, “Daemeon did say that not all fiction is without truth. That’s odd. I’m fiction to Allen, like a story. So everything I say would be a story to him. So, I guess I’ll just talk about what I do know? That would be easy enough.”

Gradually, Colgate smiled and took a deep breath. Almost as though she was reading the words from a book, she spoke, “I’m having difficulty starting the story I want to tell. I guess I would like to start by saying a long, long time ago in a place far, far away, there was a beautiful kingdom.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” the man remarked.

“I know. It does sound nice.” Colgate’s smile somehow seemed a little sad to Daemeon as he watched her speak. “And yet, I can’t start off the story that way. You see, I am not real to you. So, the time that was long, long ago to me, is only now for you. And the kingdom that is far, far away is right here.”

His curiosity piqued beyond a simple desire for a story, Fr. Allen noted, “I don’t see any kingdom.”

“But that’s the trouble you see,” Colgate continued. “For you, the kingdom I am talking about is not a place. It’s only an idea. So, to say that it is far away is incorrect. But it is also wrong to say that it is right here. And yet, despite being neither here nor there, it is. Do you understand?”

Giving a slow nod of his head, Fr. Allen answered, “I will try.”

“Good.” Taking another heavy breath, she restarted, “In a place that is neither here nor there at a time that is neither now nor then, there was, is, and forever will be a beautiful kingdom called Equestria. This is where I am from, you see. In this place, I was born and raised by a kind mother and a strong father. I was born as a Unicorn among the ponies of Equestria. I could have been an Earth Pony. Everything is possible. I would have been a Pegasus. I always wanted to fly. But could and would aside, I was and am a Unicorn. I have no great pride for the race that I am. Whether it was through coincidence or fate that I was born the way I am, I have no idea. What I do know for certain however, is that I am what I am. And nothing about the past can change the present. It cannot change because the past has passed. That is to say, it is no longer present.

“But listen to me babble. Celestia help me when I’m old and senile. Let me continue. This kingdom of Equestria had seen in its time many different turmoils and tribulations. It had gone through just about every kind of war you could imagine. But everything that happened in its past was necessary for the ponies that live there to enjoy the near perfect society that they have now. We learned from our mistakes and were able to come together in unity, friendship, and mutual understanding.”

“That sounds awfully romantic,” the priest whispered as he let his eyes drift towards the altar. “On what was this kingdom built that it should be so friendly?”

“On what was it built?” the mare inquired.

“Yes,” he explained. “What made it so friendly? What caused the people there to have a perfect society?”

Colgate followed the man’s gaze to the altar as she tried to answer, “It is hard for me to say. You see, we ponies live as we do because we understand that it is the best way to live. And it is the best way for us to live because we all agree it is. It makes almost all of us happy and keeps all of us safe. If there was a better way to live, then we should likely argue for that way. But there isn’t, so we don’t. I know it is not the answer you are looking for, but we live in a perfect society because we do. After living the way that we do, any other way of living seems wrong.”

“I guess that would answer the question as to how the kingdom is everlasting,” Fr. Allen grunted thoughtfully, “but I guess the question I’m really asking is how it came to be. You said there were wars and violence, and now there is not. How is it that this came to be?”

Colgate flashed a very exasperated look towards Daemeon who couldn’t refrain from chuckling slightly. The mare answered, “Now that is a very, very long story. I’m sorry to say that I simply don’t have enough time to tell it all.”

Fr. Allen let out a long sigh before saying dejectedly, “Of course you don’t have time. That would be convenient for me. I don’t know the answer to what makes a perfect society, so obviously you don’t either. You only know as much as I do.”

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Colgate whispered softly, touching her hoof to one of his sunken cheeks tenderly. “I may not have time to explain exactly how it came to be, but I can tell you how it is. I can explain why it remains as it is even though the world around it is constantly changing.”

Giving her a soft squeeze as though she were a stuffed animal, Fr. Allen relented, “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

Smiling, the mare continued, “As I told you before, there are three different kinds of ponies. There are Unicorns, Pegasi, and Earth Ponies. Individually, we are strong enough to survive on our own. Unicorns are exceptionally smart. Earth Ponies are exceptionally strong. And Pegasi are exceptionally resourceful. Individually our talents are enough to sustain ourselves, but they caused us to come into conflict with each other. The only way we were able to overcome this conflict was by agreeing to use our talents for each others’ benefits. Instead of racing against each other, we raced together and ran all the faster because of it.

“This is the foundation of our society. At first we tried to exploit the weaknesses we saw in each other. Now we have learned to exploit our strengths. In so doing, we created the kingdom of Equestria.

“Now, Equestria’s citizens are broken into three fundamental groups. They are the Leaders, the Guardians, and the Producers. I should explain the meaning of their titles if they were not already so self evident. The Leaders lead, the Guardians guard, and the Producers produce. It might seem ridiculously simplistic to you, but this division of labor is a key component to understanding why the Equestria of today is able to exist. They are not simply titles that are handed out passively or through simple desire. They are necessities. They are ways of thinking. They are philosophies in their own right. And it is by adopting and realizing one of these philosophies that ponies are able to live and play their respective parts to ensure the kingdom’s strength and integrity.”

Amused by her lofty speech, Fr. Allen asked, “And just what part do you play?”

“I am a Producer,” she answered seriously. “More specifically, I’m a dentist. The greatest contribution I can make to Equestria is to provide dental services to the residents of my home village. It is not an especially grand role, but my importance has always been made clear to me, much as it has been made clear to every other pony besides me. A great clock has many, many gears both large and small. And though I may be only a small cog in the system, I am necessary for the whole to run smoothly and efficiently. The kingdom would shudder at my absence, and I would quickly need to be replaced for it to continue.

“Though there are many, many Producers, we are all made to recognize the importance of the others. With this understanding, we are all able to respect each other. Nopony is insignificant and everypony realizes that. I guess this gives all of us a small sense of importance. How can it not?”

“Indeed,” Fr. Allen mused. “If only people had respect for each other in the same way.”

“They might,” Daemeon interjected to draw the attention of the conversing pair, “if all the cogs were seen as necessary. Some would argue that the purpose of other people might be more of a hinderance to the machine than an aid.”

“Must you be so pessimistic?” the priest chided.

“To the contrary, I’ve always thought of myself as an optimist.”

Frowning, Fr. Allen begged, “What part of you is optimistic?”

“The part that believes we could indeed have a perfect world if some of those cogs were removed.”

Scoffing at the grim answer, Fr. Allen berated, “Oh hush up you. Let the lady tell her story.” To Colgate, “Please continue.”

Snickering a bit at the exchange, she went on with her story. “If we had to sum up the importance of the cogs, the next set would belong to the Guardians. In a perfect world, they might not be necessary. However, while Equestria has achieved at enlightened state, the rest of our world has not. There are still other cultures and races who do not see the world the same way that we ponies do. They have not adopted mutual discourse the same way that we have. They have beliefs that run contrary to our own. Perhaps most disturbingly, they have insatiable desires for the security and comfort that we have earned for ourselves. As such, the Guardian class has been made necessary to protect us from those who would seek to steal or break apart our society for their own immediate benefits.

“There was not always a Guardian class as there is now though. They exist now only to protect us, to protect the society. Before however, there was a time when they existed for the sake of conquering and exerting control on foreign lands.”

“What caused that to change?” asked the priest.

“Well,” she continued, “over two hundred years ago, ponykind engaged in a war of aggression with another species. The purpose of the war was an enforcement of our own understandings of morality. It was not for the purpose of acquiring wealth or for protecting ourselves. It was entirely prompted by the belief that animals should not be eaten. We ponies had a high minded belief that unintelligent life was as important as intelligent life. We felt validated in this belief because ponykind had never had to consume other animals to maintain ourselves. We had always been herbivores. So, when we came into contact with an intelligent race that was almost purely carnivorous, we felt validated to attack that race and give an aggressive reprimand for their state of being. We had a long and violent war with them purely because they were living as they had always lived, and we deemed their way of life to be wrong.”

“That sounds like something that happens here all the time,” Fr. Allen remarked passively as he listened. With a touch of curiosity, he asked, “How did the war turn out?”

“We ponies lost,” Colgate answered somewhat distantly. Images sketched in history books flashed through her mind as she tried to recall the stories left behind from previous generations. “The carnivores were even stronger than we were. While we had merely adopted violence and warfare, they had been born and raised on it. It was a close match, but they fought us all the way to Equestria’s capital, Canterlot. There, they could have ended Equestria. They had our matriarchs surrounded and at their mercy. We were forced to offer an unconditional surrender. All they had to do was give us a little poke and our entire kingdom would have crumbled into oblivion, and all the lands we had worked so hard to claim and maintain for ourselves would have been lost to a foreign race.”

“Why didn’t it?” Daemeon demanded. His interest protruded from his intensely arched brow and narrowed eyes as he listened. He was clearly more interested than Fr. Allen, who seemed to listen to the story a touch more distantly. After all, his was a less curious mind more rigidly set on a single interpretation of the world and how it works. Colgate’s words were only a fairy tale to him whereas for Daemeon, they were scripture.

The little, blue unicorn answered him, “Because the carnivores had a greater respect for life than ponies did. It might sound a little odd, but warfare and their habit of eating other creatures had actually strengthened in their mind the value of other living beings. They did not respect life merely because it lived like we ponies did. They respected life for the purposes it could fulfill.

“The pony understanding of life’s value was very vague, you see. We held to the idea that all life was important because we believed we were the caretakers of all life. So when other creatures died under our supervision, we felt responsible. That was of course a very naive belief since we didn’t control all life and there was no feasible way we could begin to do so. We also chose to ignore the fact that life exists in a very circular fashion. Because we had overcome our animal predators through cooperation, we believed that predators on the whole did not have a right to be predators. It’s a rather dated and contradictory philosophy, but it went something like this. Every creature should live but never at the expense of another creature’s life.”

The statement solicited a throaty chuckle from the man holding her who pointed out the obvious, “But no creatures exist without causing grief to other creatures. Almost all animals are consumers of either other animals or at least plantlife. That’s like saying you want to make and eat a cake but you want to do so without using any of the ingredients.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “like I said, it’s a dated and absurd philosophy. We weren’t able to recognize that because we were able to exist outside of that circle for so long. We were able to live without predators, so we came to the conclusion that predators were not necessary. It was not until they were reintroduced into our lives that we were able to see the benefits.

“So it happened like this. The leader of the carnivores met with our leader, Princess Celestia, to discuss the terms of the surrender. All of Equestria was terrified. Thousands of us had died in the war, and many of our lands had been ravaged. We were afraid that the carnivores would decide to take it all from us. Many were even afraid that they might decide to herd us like beasts and eat us themselves. We had every right at the time to believe that they would. Why would they be forgiving? It was we who attacked them. We were the aggressors on their perceived barbaric way of living. Why should they do anything but lash out in equal measure? I am very thankful, all of Equestria is very thankful to be able to say that that was not what happened.

“The carnivores did not so much meet with us to discuss terms of surrender so much as to discuss terms of existence. They met with Celestia and made her see the error of her ways, the error of ponykind. In equating intelligent life with unintelligent life, we were not raising creatures such as pigs to our status. We were lowering all life to brute, mundane existence. We had not made herbivores more righteous or special, we had merely made ourselves more cold hearted and unseeing. It was that cold heartedness and lack of sight that justified in our minds the use of murder as a proper reaction to a conflict of moralities.”

“So it was the Gryphons who were in the right?!” Daemeon expounded.

“Gryphons?” Fr. Allen asked confusedly.

Ignoring the priest as her words were no longer meant for him, Colgate went on excitedly, “Yes! Because the Gryphons were carnivores, they were inherently different from us ponies. Our model of living simply could not work for them. It was also because they were carnivores that they did the unexpected. Their leader made no claims on Equestria. She demanded no recompense. She stole none of our territory, food, livelihood, or technology. They made one demand and one demand only, that both parties should come to some agreement of what constituted proper living. This they saw as necessary because our viewpoints conflicted each other, and they knew there would be war again if a mutual morality was not agreed upon.”

“Why would the Gryphons let them off so easily?” Daemeon demanded. “And just who was this leader of the Gryphons?”

Not even bothering to look at Fr. Allen anymore, Colgate explained, “Her name was Gilda the Great, but that’s not important. The reason the Gryphons let them off so easily is precisely because they valued intelligent life more than unintelligent life. They understood that we ponies were different from them, and they understood our problems with the way they lived. Though they did not agree with our views of the world, they respected where they came from and that there was a rich history behind them. They respected that we had the intelligence to formulate a morality in the first place, albeit a touch skewed. In an odd twist that took some time for us ponies to understand, we realized that they saw us as the barbaric ones, much as we had seen them.

“They had no qualms with eating pigs. They were unintelligent and their value to the Gryphons came from the fact that they could be consumed like ponies consumed apples. And because of this intrinsic value they put on the pigs, they raised and kept them ungrudgingly. We ponies had kept them as well, but we had done so with a touch of despair in our hearts because we tried vainly to grasp at values that were not realistic. In both scenarios, the pigs lived. It was only in the case of the Gryphons that they lived with a purpose.”

“So in a sense,” Daemeon remarked, “the Gryphons were doing them a favor by eating them?”

“Exactly,” Colgate continued enthusiastically. She readjusted herself in the priest’s arms so her body was turned back towards her lover. “I suppose you would have to accept that living well is better than merely living, but since we are here talking about philosophy, you already know the answer to that. The Gryphon understanding was that the purpose of life was to promote the creatures who could live well to do so. With that understanding, they saw the greatest purpose of pigs was to feed Gryphons. It was only then that they obtained a greater purpose aside from merely living.”

“But,” her man interjected, “I thought ponies already knew that living well was better than merely living. Why wouldn’t they have seen things the way the Gryphons did?”

“Because we thought that all life should either live or live well. We never attached a secondary importance to life that did not live well but aided in lives that could. This is not to say that we never took advantage of other creatures for our own benefit. Of course we did that. We’d just never thought that a life could be made more valuable by ending so that another may persevere.”

Giving a great sigh, Colgate absently tried to snuggle closer to Fr. Allen as the chill air of the cathedral permeated her tiny form. She continued, “It would have been nice if Celestia and the rest of pony society could have understood the reasoning of the Gryphons without the war, but I personally do not believe we would ever have accepted their ways. We had built ourselves too high. We had to be brought low again and humbled before another species before we could accept the fact that we are not always right. And this did not happen until 700 years after the start of our Reform Era.

“Princess Celestia and Gilda the Great conversed until a mutual understanding was reached. Ponykind agreed that our perception of the value of life was flawed and the Gryphons agreed that the use of guile to obtain our pig populations for eating was underhanded and wrong. The Gryphons left our kingdom, even going so far as to offer us aid in restoring our kingdom to stability. Because of their kindness and respect, we have been strong allies ever since. That is not to say that Gryphons and ponies are chummy all the time. We are still very different creatures that come from very different histories. But we are able to understand each other, and for that, we live in peace to this day.”

As Colgate finished her thought, a silence came over the trio. Whenever silence came in the cathedral, it made the place seem all the bigger, like an empty void that could only be filled with words, that had to be filled with words. This thought was not restricted to her mind though. You know for yourself. Cathedrals are meant for words to be spoken. More specifically, they are built for the Word to be spoken.

Colgate struggled to find herself in the silence. She retraced her words until she found where they had deviated. With a chuckle and a grin, she turned her eyes back up to Fr. Allen’s own faded blue eyes and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go so far into detail. The reason I mentioned the war at all was to explain that we did not have a Guardian class at the time. What we had were aggressors. It was not until after the war that the Guardian class was formed separately from the Producers.”

Her words creeped to a stop as she found Fr. Allen’s eyes probing her intensely. It caused her some slight discomfort, but she did not let it show on her face. She let him stare and search her face, seeming to look beyond her superficial features for something hidden deep beneath them. That stare almost brought her to uncomfortable twitching before the priest finally asked, “And just what’s so different about the Guardians?”

Relieved to be speaking again, she answered him, “Well, we had always had a military trained to protect equestria from foreign and domestic threats. That’s necessary for any kingdom to survive. After the Gryphon War however, we replaced the military with a Guardian class. They are very similar insofar as they are both made up of strong, capable ponies who have the endurance and the will to go into battle. The difference comes in how they are trained and what system of command is in place.

“You see, our military was always trained to fight. That was their purpose. To fight when they were told to and to fight without question. That is how an effective military works. That was how Equestria’s military worked. When Celestia told them to charge into the Gryphon Federation, they did so without a second thought. They were taught only to execute orders and showed no remorse in doing so. This lead to a lot of suffering and death during the Gryphon War both for the Gryphons and for ponykind. When killing becomes a cold, calculating thing to do, it also becomes easy. We went into the war with a very warped view of the value of life, and because of that, we did terrible, terrible things to the Gryphons. Gilda the Great raised this point to Princess Celestia at their meeting. It was agreed that this kind of warfare could not be tolerated. As such, the military of Equestria was changed.

“Now, Guardians are chosen at a young age. They are few in number compared to the Producers. Once they are chosen, they are brought to special academies where they learn how to become strong, reliant defenders of Equestria. Alongside their physical and practical training however, there is also the strenuous training of their morals. In this is the biggest difference. A military teaches ponies to abandon their moralities for the sake of duty. The Guardians are taught to embrace their moralities for the sake of duty.”

“That sounds like a dangerous concept, Colgate,” Daemeon murmured. “How could people go to war effectively if they were troubled with the moral consequences of their actions?”

“They can’t,” she answered simply. “That’s the point. By taking away morality, war becomes a very easy process. It reduces individuals to something even less than animals. Animals do not intend to harm you. They do not have sadistic motives. They just do as their instincts tell them. Princess Celestia and Gilda the Great wanted to make war a difficult process. They wanted the taking of another intelligent being’s life to be very difficult for any pony or gryphon forced to do so. They wanted every member of their Guardian classes to wish never to kill. Before ever drawing a sword or arrow, they wanted a warrior to weigh in his or her mind whether what they did was the right thing to do. These academies taught that if a Guardian saw murder as the wrong thing to do, then they should not do it, even if they are told otherwise. They should only resort to violence if the individual believed it was necessary.”

A large part of Daemeon wanted to shout that such a system was simply impossible. Had he known less about Equestria, he would simply have done as such. Since he was a much wiser man than he had been the day before however, he did not speak his mind. He instead asked a question that would more quickly take him to his answer than a pronounced rebuke, “How is it then that ponies ever have the fortitude to kill when they have to? Wouldn’t this hesitation make any conflict you ponies got into almost impossible to win?”

“It does make some conflict almost impossible, yes.” She gestured outwards towards some unseen nation in the distance. “It would make an offensive war impossible to maintain. There is almost no way you can morally justify going into a foreign land and attacking the beings that live there. If we’d had that moral based military when we invaded the Gryphons, we would not have lasted nearly as long as we did. The war would have ended much faster as the individual Guardians decided for themselves that there was not enough moral justification to invade another nation. But far from being a flaw, this system is a benefit. It means that we can never be the conquering invaders.

“As to other forms of conflict however, the system can actually be a major benefit with regards to fighting. With a military, the ponies who fight in it often do so to protect their friends and family. While this is a noble goal, it is not an infallible one. It is a motivation rooted in instincts. The desire to protect our friends and family can be at its core a selfish desire.”

The statement piqued Daemeon’s interest immensely. If her explanation was going where he thought it might be going, then he was very eager to hear her beliefs affirm ones he’d had himself for a very long time. He asked, “How do you mean selfish?”

She smiled at his eagerness. “I mean it in much the same way you taught me that sympathy can be a selfish emotion. Ponies in a military often went to war because they were trying to protect their friends and families. What they often did not realize even as they did it was that they wanted to protect those close to them because they brought them comfort and joy. In this way, their desire to protect was not because it was the right thing to do, or because it would benefit the people they were trying to protect. What they are really trying to protect is their own version of the world, their own little corner of happiness. It is not the whole that they fight for. It is the part, the little piece that they claim as their own in their hearts. They fight not for others but for themselves. That is how it can be selfish. It is the mere fact that they are doing it for themselves and not for others. With that thought in mind, it becomes even easier to understand why atrocities can be perpetuated in war. When it is greed and selfishness that motivates our actions, ponies will do what they know is bad for others just so that they can secure what they have for themselves. Invasion, mass murder, even genocide can be justified internally if the reason you act is to protect yourself and your happiness.”

Purely so he could see the whole of her argument, Daemeon advocated for the obvious point she had not yet addressed, “How can going to war for yourself honestly be selfish if not only your family benefits from it? A person does not go into a fight with a banner picturing his family alone. He goes to defend a nation! While perhaps his intentions are for the protection of his own, how is what he does any less courageous or honorable than the man who goes in without selfish reasons? How is it any different when they are both killed in battle what their intentions were? Whatever caused them to join the fight, the fact remains that they are there. Nothing about the past is going to change the facts of the present. So why does it matter? We’re all the same when we’re six feet under.”

Colgate knew Daemeon was far too intelligent not to already know her answer. Still, she took such joy in the discussion that she humored his argument as though she really believed he did not know the answer. She clamored “They aren’t different! That’s just the thing. You’ve made the mistake of assuming the man who fights specifically for his nation rather than for his family is any less selfish. The fact of the matter is that the nation is an extension of the family. A nation is one big family. It may not always get along or see eye to eye, but they all come from a common ancestry and they all came together because they had similar reasoning and understandings of how best to live. Fighting for your nation is no less selfish than fighting for your family. Just because you’ve made your circle of justification bigger doesn’t mean your reasonings are any better. The two men in the ground are the same. And if I were to hazard a guess, Daemeon, I’d say you know exactly why they are the same. What single fact makes their situations no different.”

“The simple fact that the past is passed,” her man stated with a loud, firm voice. “They are both in the ground. That is why they are the same. That is why they were selfish. I never would have guessed your race would understand this so clearly, but you do. Despite whatever their intentions might have been, the fact remains that they are both dead. This is the signal of their greedy failure. In trying to protect their respective families, they went off to murder other men and women who had families. And there's the rub! No matter how pure and selfless anybody might have tried to make their intentions, the war still happened and there are still dead men and women and maybe even children to show for it.” Running his fingers through his unkempt brown hair, Daemeon demanded, “Now tell me, Colgate. What morality is taught to the Guardians? Why are all efforts for war frustrated on purpose?”

“Because,” she cried resoundingly, “the taking of another intelligent life has no positive ramifications. If you identify with your specific family or even your specific nation and go to war against another nation made up of other families, you are doing a disservice to you family, your nation, all other families, all other nations, and the entire world. There is no good that comes from death. There is only pain and suffering. War is a long term commitment to inflict mutual pain and suffering. There is nothing gained from either the winning or the losing side. While there may be short term benefits for the nation that showed superior force, these benefits will always falter into even greater difficulties as the following generations clamor for revenge and retribution. Every war will be more aggressive and violent and encompassing than the last unless the participants come to realize the single, undeniable fact that doing harm to others will always and only ever do harm to yourself.

“If you hear excitement and power in my voice, please understand that I am not a Guardian. My knowledge of this morality is rudimentary at best. Think if you will about the respect and admiration we ponies have for our Guardians. They are taught from a very young age that all life has purpose, and that all life is to be respected for its value. And then to add to that, all intelligent life deserves the respect and right not to just a life but a life well lived. It is this understanding that hinders wars of aggression while simultaneously strengthening our resolve to defend ourselves against foreign invasion. Our Guardians are taught not to fight for selfish reasons such as love of family or country. They are taught to fight for the defence of the very principles they are taught to uphold. They are able to swing their swords and draw their bows and arrows in defence because they know that intelligent life is the most precious thing there is and anybody who would seek to end such life for their own selfish desires are attacking not only the families and nations of the Guardians but also the sentiment that intelligent beings deserve life. This is why they are not hindered, Daemeon. It is the intent of our attackers that spurns our Guardians to action. When Equestria is attacked and ponies are killed, they are harbingers of justice who fight for justice’s sake, not for the sake of those they are defending. And when they die, they become exactly like the other two men who are six feet under. It was the failure for a peaceful resolution that caused their deaths. In death, we are all the same just as you say. Death is the worst possible thing that can happen, so it is the last thing that is sought. Death is failure. Communication, respect, openness, friendship, life; these are the successes the Guardian class strives for.”

Both Daemeon and Colgate felt a mutual shiver go up their spines at hearing such powerfully spoken and significant words. Daemeon had held these thoughts close to his heart for a very long time. They were not unique to him. There were others before him who had had such profound reasonings for why war was never a positive part of society. They were far and few between though, and he’d never dreamt that he’d find someone who would share his exact opinions. It was a strange elation that injected him with a much needed dose of vigor. The last twenty four hours had wreaked havoc on his steadfast beliefs. So much of what he held dear to his heart had been turned upside down or mocked to insignificance. It was a supreme joy and relief for him to hear his mare agree completely with him on something that held such importance to him. With a touch of satisfaction, Daemeon stated, “Never have more beautiful words been spoken.”

Their moment of warmth was cut short as Fr. Allen stated somewhat scathingly, “You can cut that crap, Daemeon, if that is the name you’re going by now.” Both pairs of eyes turned to regard the old man whose face was contorted with an odd amalgamation of frustration, confusion, and anger. “That’s the most hypocritical thing I think I’ve ever heard you say. I hardly know anything of your past, but I’ve heard enough to know that you don’t care about other people’s lives. In fact, I gather you much prefer to harm lives than to help them.”

The statement caused Colgate to flash a look of serious concern towards Daemeon who cringed and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Her crystal blue eyes seemed to pierce his skin and take in every single fault, lie, and horror he’d caused in his lifetime. Such had been the last few hours that he’d almost forgotten the tenuous nature of his love for Colgate. While he knew that she had every intention of loving him no matter what he had done in his past, he also knew that she could never suspect just how much of a monster he was. Even the first day they had met when Daemeon had lunged at her with every intention of crushing the life out of her diminutive body, he could not have seemed as much of a violent, unfeeling creature as he actually had been. She had forgiven that side of him, but he was certain that she would not forgive the transgressions of his past, especially not if she believed the same things he believed. He’d given up his life long ago. That was a choice he made freely. Whether it was selfish or not, he could not say. He liked to believe that he’d given up happiness for the sake of mankind, but that was not the reality he was worried about revealing to Colgate. No. His fear was her judgment of the fact that not only had he given up his happiness, he’d also given up the very morality he believed in so vehemently. This was of course because he saw his impromptu chaos that caused so much suffering and death as necessary for educating humanity on the reality that there never was nor will be such thing as God and that if real happiness were ever to be achieved, everyone everywhere would have to accept this fact and hold it close to their hearts. Until that day came, Daemeon devoted himself to causing pain. His belief was that the more pain he caused, the more people would strive for the opposite. If ever there was an advocate for the devil, it was he, the Devil himself.

Daemeon would have liked nothing better than to hide from the truth once more, as he had done every time before. With Fr. Allen at their side however, he knew there was nowhere left for him to run. Now was the hour of his demise. Already, his eyes moistened as his mare’s lips moved to ask that dreaded question, “Daemeon, what have you done?”

Colgate trembled. She did not want to know the answer. It terrified her. Now more so than ever as she heard a small confirmation of her fears in the language of the old priest holding her. But she had also come to the realization that even worse than whatever the truth might be was the suspense of waiting to know and having every moment demonize the man she loved even more than the moment before. Daemeon had promised her that when he told her the truth, he would tell her the whole truth, unadulterated with any pretense of self defense. So when she saw his shoulders slump like the world had been placed upon them and his face grow dark and sad, she trembled.

“Yes, Daemeon. Tell us. What have you done. I’ve always been curious to know.” Fr. Allen chuckled slightly at the bereaved man’s expression, taking humor in his sadness. The chuckle, as insignificant as it was, was enough to cause the man to almost double over in pain. Struggling to catch his breath, he stated, “Heck, you might even consider repenting! Lord knows I’m probably the only priest in the world who would hear your confession and take it to the grave.”

Daemeon did not have the heart to give a snide remark to the priest. His gaze remained fixed with his friend, his best friend, his only friend. His lips relinquished themselves before his mind could even comprehend the surrender. He spoke, “Fr. Allen’s right, Colgate. I am every bit the hypocrite he says I am.”

The statement, so stoically declared, caught even Fr. Allen off guard. He gazed almost as intently as Colgate did as they listened.

“Though I profess to favor an enlightened way of thinking, one which I believe corresponds with a feasible utopian society, I do not follow my own belief in unity. I do the opposite in fact.” With dark seriousness, he stated, “I’ve hurt a lot of people, Colgate.”

The mare flinched at the statement and hesitantly asked, “What do you mean?”

Taking a deep breath to maintain his own fortitude, her man answered shakily, “I mean I have intentionally done things for the past twenty years to hurt people. Not just some people either. Almost every single person who has come into contact with me for most of my life have suffered great trials. They have lost money because of me. They have lost jobs because of me. They have lost their sense of security because of me. They have lost their relationships with those they loved because of me. They have come to despise each other because of me. And many, beyond my knowledge or ability to remember, have died because of things I have done to ruin their lives.”

Struggling to speak past the wordless horror the mare he loved so much showed on her beautiful face, he pressed on with the conviction that not one ounce of the truth should be hidden from her any longer. “When we first met, Colgate, I told you that you were lucky for coming into my possession. I told you that there were many people in this world who would want nothing more than to use you or do unspeakable things to you. The fact of the matter is that I lied to you. Of almost all the people you could possibly have run into, I might just be the cruelest and most wickedly evil person you could possibly have met. The very first thoughts I had about you was how I might exploit you. I wanted to use you to learn about your world. And the only reason I initially wanted to learn about your world was so that I could bring my unique form of chaos and cruelty on your world.

“There is nothing redeemable about me, Colgate. I am a wretch. If there ever was such a thing as an evil person, that is who I am. And this is made all the worse because I am aware of my condition! Most other people have a mental deficiency that would move them to cruelty. Human beings by nature try to justify what they do. Even the most oppressive tyrants in human history believed their actions were good or righteous in some way, even if those reasons were a mere delusion or excuse to behave as they did. I am worse than all these men because I know what I do is terrible. Every ounce of my being knows that it is wrong to harm other people, to lead their lives to ruin, to cause them death. And yet, I do so without flinching or feeling any guilt for what I am doing. Even now I feel no guilt. If you were planning on reconciling my soul, priest, you would not be able to do so. I am not sorry for what I did. At least, I never was sorry until I met you, Colgate.”

A very small voice squeaked, “Why?”

Tears fell freely from his eyes as the man explained, “It’s easy not to feel sorry for the decisions you have made if you do not love anyone or anything. If you don’t love anything, then you can’t hate anything. So despite living every day in absolute hypocrisy, I never felt any hatred for myself. I was not able to. I never would have either if my life as I knew it two days ago hadn’t ended, and my new life began.

“Against all odds, you wormed your way into my cold, bitter heart. You made me feel anger. You made me feel fear. You made me feel joy. And finally, you made me love. You made me love you without even trying. And in falling in love with you, I learned to hate the person I am. I am a monster Colgate, and there is nothing that can redeem me for what I have done.”

It might have been silence that would have followed if it were not for Daemeon suddenly losing control of his emotions. His confession made, he clutched his hands at his face. Covering his eyes out of overwhelming shake, he broke into agonized crying. The pain was intolerable. It would have been one thing to say goodbye to her. The loss of a lover is a terrible sadness for anybody to bear. This loss of love was even worse for Daemeon however. A lifetime of shame and self loathing which had been kept at bay by cold and calculating actions that served to perpetuate chaos in its purest forms was released all at once in the tortured man’s body. It ravaged his sensibilities, leaving him as helpless as a babe lost and alone in a hostile environment. That hostile environment was the scrutiny of a single creature whom he loved more than anything or anyone he’d ever known before. It was this scrutiny that cut him the deepest and, for the briefest of moments, made him the most miserable man alive.

Often, it is seen as a curse that moments end. There are moments you wish would last forever. Then there are moments like this that seem to last forever even though that is the very last thing you would want. Thankfully, no moment lasts forever. And for Daemeon, this moment was far briefer than he would ever have expected.

The despairing man was pulled out of his inner turmoil quite suddenly by an almost painful smack against his forehead. The unexpected pain overrode the despair for a brief moment and Daemeon jolted his hands upward and opened his eyes to regard the impossibly huge, crystal blue eyes of that gossamer furred unicorn dentist from a whole other world. Those eyes were moist with tears. Her brow was tightened in anger. Her lips were bent with seriousness. And her nose was flared with intensity. All these features came together as a confusing collage that was only made understandable when the mare shouted at her man a single word, “Were!”

Confused, Daemeon could only gasp, “Huh?!”

In a relentless attack that Fr. Allen found humor in, Colgate tackled her man and began repeatedly striking him with her hoof over and over again while crying the single word, “Were! Were! Were! Were! Were! Were! Were!”

Every strike of her hoof only brought Daemon to ever higher levels of confusion as his mind made failed to grasp the purpose of the onslaught. If he were not so distraught, he might have reacted in reciprocated rough play. As he was in no emotional state to offer argument though, he instead covered his head and received the beating like a massive bear being slapped on the nose by a carney’s newspaper.

The attack continued until his mare, panting with exhaustion, collapsed on his lap and laid her head against his chest. Only then did Daemeon remove his hands from his eye and look back down on her. She answered his obvious confusion by stating with the definitive mindset of a zealot, “I’ve already told you before Daemeon. You’re not a monster. That’s the person you were. Whatever person you were doesn’t matter now. It’s who you are now that matters. And right now, you’re my human with the wonderful laugh and the beautiful smile, and you’re never going to hurt anybody ever again because you love me, and I love you. Do you understand?”

Panting and hiccuping from his own exertive crying, Daemeon stuttered, “Y-yes? But, but how? How? How can you just ignore what I’ve done so easily?”

Colgate shook her head vigorously and explained, “I’m not ignoring it. I just believe as you believe. The past is passed. No matter what you were before, it doesn’t change the fact that right now you are a kind and loving person. The past is there to be learned from, Daemeon; not relived. If my being here with you has caused you to realize the wrongs you have done, then your actions are already forgiven. What good would my punishing you do? Revenge comes to nothing. You know that as well as I do. You were the one who helped me to realize that fact. If you love me, then you will follow the very morality that you taught me. You will forgive yourself as I have forgiven you and let this dark part of your past fade away. Live for the moment, Daemeon. And make it a better moment than the one before.”

Though he wanted nothing more than to give into the comfort of her words, he feared his past could not be let go as simply as she said. His fear was that the very beliefs that underscored the actions of his past might prompt him to the same actions in the present. With this fear in mind, he stated, “But I can’t wash the slate clean like that, Colgate. All those horrible things I did I did for a reason. And you know that reason. Though I have not told you directly, I know you are smart enough to realize the purpose behind my actions.”

His mare nodded her head slowly and whispered, “To create chaos.”

“Yes!” her man expounded. “I wanted this world to be a better place so badly that I chose to rush it towards its inevitable conclusion. I forced the spread of chaos so that people should grow bitter and resentful and stop their fatal belief in God. It is this belief that holds us back, Colgate. That is the ingredient that has soured our ascension to a higher understanding of right and wrong, justice and injustice. I do not know whether you could ever really understand what I am trying to say, but it is the truth. Of that you can be certain. I weighed the benefit of humanity as a whole versus the destruction of the lives of individuals, and my scales tipped towards the former. I chose to harm people to help them. This is why I don’t feel remorse. Even to this moment, I still believe that what I did was the best possible thing I could have done. And even with all the love I hold for you, I am still not convinced that my actions were wrong. Even as they violate everything I believe in, they were and still are necessary to me.”

With an astonishingly furious and bellowing voice, Fr. Allen cried out, “And just what gives you the right to play God?!”

Both Daemeon’s and Colgate’s gazes whipped towards the angry, old man. If the volume of the man’s voice was not enough to draw their attention, the sudden lunge he made towards the pair terrified them. Fr. Allen, who only moments before had seemed on the verge of death, now wrung Daemeon’s shirt in his hand with the adrenaline of a young man going to war for the first time. Neither the handsome man nor the beautiful mare knew what to do as those dark, fuming eyes stared into the depths of Daemeon’s black soul.

Screaming with ferocity, the priest demanded, “What gives you the right to judge all of mankind and determine that the best favor you can do for us is to harm us in any way possible? What gives you the right to say that a utopia may only be found through violence? How dare you sit there and say war is a terrible thing, yet make every effort to make war on everyone else? Did it never, not once in your life occur to you that you are the reason we don’t have a utopia? Has the faintest glimmer of righteousness ever fell on your self righteous soul so that you may stop the evil your doing and wonder whether or not it is your very attitude towards life that causes the world so much grief?

“You say that we are held back by God. You say we are held back by love. You say we are held back by ignorance. No matter how nobly you may try to paint yourself, you are the person that makes the world a bad place. You are the one who causes suspicion and hatred. You cause us distrust. You make us fear everything. How are we to ever trust each other if men like you do everything in their power to make us do otherwise? How. . .”

The priest’s words were cut short as his bony hand grasped his chest. His eyes squinted shut and his body went rigid. The man and the mare before him could see the contorted agony in his expression, and both feared that he would collapse. Somehow, the holy man simmered with just enough spite to cause him to force his way through the pain. Prying one eye open and gritting his teeth, he stated with fury, “There is only one judge, and He is not you. May you be brought forth before our Heavenly Father and judged, for only He may see and know all. Death will come for you, Daemeon. And when it comes, you will know sorrow. You will know suffering!”

Drawing one last breath, Fr. Allen spit in Daemeon’s face and fell limply back into the pew.

For the briefest, most infinitesimal moment, Daemeon felt fear. For the very first time in his life, the man who spited all who would swear such deceitful ideas at him felt the traumatic bewilderment of just what would become of his consciousness once it had lost its momentum. Even Colgate who knew almost nothing of Heaven or Hell feared for the judgement her man might come to. Unfortunately, neither of them were given the luxury of dwelling on their fears just then. Their eyes flew from the corpse to the great double doors as they heard them rapped with seven loud knocks in succession. Daemeon stared in bewilderment, not even having the presence of mind to wipe the drool dripping down his brow, nose, and chin.