Chapter 6: Attack, Attack!

“War is mainly a catalogue of blunders.”

-Sir Winston Churchill

May 27th

"Eins!"

The soldiers turned as one, moving in clockwork motion. It was times like this Charles was thankful they could understand simple German like that, otherwise there would be massive headaches in store for him.

"Zwei!"

Their hands rose to their foreheads. They were still as statues, awaiting the next command with perfect form.

"Drei!"

The soldiers marched as one, in single file, moving to the beat of the lone drummer up front. This continued for a few minutes, moving straight ahead with no care at all for what was in front of them.

"Ausgezeichnet. Head to your quarters men, we are done for the day."

At Charles' command, the soldiers motioned towards him one more time with the Roman salute, a gesture that was growing in popularity with the troops. It didn't help that Charles loved it, Imperial Rome always being his favorite period of history. Charles saluted back at them, a sign of respect that earned him further admiration from the battalion. His battalion. The words still tasted like molasses on his lips. He shined over the words every time he had practiced formations with the troops in the last two days now, doing his best to pass the time and to garner some familiarity with his men. So far, it was working.

Once the troops departed though, leaving Charles alone in the green field they trained in, he scowled. "Something the matter, your Highness?" an annoyingly familiar voice called out.

Charles groaned, then turned to see István there, smirking as usual. The man constantly was either an interesting person with the occasional good joke, or a pesky nuisance that bothered him about everything. It was only three days since they had met, and already Charles was sure of this conclusion. The description was rather fitting actually, at least to him, as the dual nature of the man fit the same duality as his appearance. Two sides,  in the form of a simple white uniform and a fur cape at his side, conflicting with one another while still meshing together quite well.

"Something is the matter actually. We have been waiting here in some fields for two days now. When are we going to be sent out with an Army Corps or something for field maneuvers?" Charles demanded to know.

István shook his head at the endless complaints, making a 'tut-tut' sound that nearly drove the prince mad. "Patience mein Freund, patience. All good things come in time. You just got this position, and it would be best to get a hang of it before going rampant."

That was not enough for the prince, not at all. Charles' eyes narrowed at the answer, focusing only on his second sentence. "How much time though?"

Ignoring the urge to slap the prince, István rolled his eyes deliberately. "Hmm..." István put a finger to his chin, drawing out the fun for as much as possible, "Not much actually. I'd say we're heading out, oh, tomorrow. A messenger just came by, and we're to depart to the Militärgrenze."

The Count took a beige-colored letter out of his pocket, handing it over. Charles took it with some suspicion, opening it and reading the contents of it as fast as possible. As he delved further into the letter, a smirk on his face formed, and it only grew more as he continued further. Once he was done, he spoke again. "Just what is this Militärgrenze?"

István nearly slapped his own face at the obliviousness of that comment. "Oh Prinz, don't tell me someone as studious as you doesn't know of the Militärgrenze?" István said, almost sounding disappointed in him, "The Militärgrenze is the borderlands of the Reich. The borderlands to the Ottoman Empire that is. It's our first line of defense against the filthy Mohammedans, and as such has some of our finest troops. It's also a melting pot of all the various nationalities in the Reich proper; barely a decent Deutscher or Magyar in sight. Only Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes all around. But that however is a much more mundane nuisance."

Charles grunted lowly at the unsatisfactory answer, glancing down at the letter again. "It says we're headed to the Slovanian frontier of it. I can only assume that's in Slovania?"

István's smirk slipped at the obvious sarcasm. "Oh no, it's actually in the Orient."

-Location of the military frontier in general, divided between differing regions.

        Charles looked strangely at him. “That was a terrible joke.”

        “At least I try.”

Ignoring the Count now, Charles took another look at the letter before responding. "No matter, this is excellent news all the same. We depart tomorrow then."

"Fantastic," István said all too delightfully, "I can't wait to see you in action mein Freund. Who knows, we might even get a war!"

Charles actually did laugh at that joke. Even if he hoped it wasn't a joke. "Oh if only István, if only. I shall see you tomorrow then, I'm off to prepare for the coming tide."

        "Then I bid you, adieu good sir. Let us hope good fortune stays with us. No matter what that entails," István said with a mock bow, before departing.

         There was a mysterious quality to István's words, like he was foreshadowing something of some sort. Charles ignored that though, instead heading out to his tent for some much needed rest. It took him a few minutes to reach it at the edge of the camp, greeting a few passing troops along the way. He had a simple brown tent, not too large, but considerably bigger than any of the others around there. Yet another benefit of being the Kaiser's grandson, he supposed. A small twitch occurred at the corner of his lips as a result of that thought, but he ignored it. Nonetheless, despite his status owing him some large expenses, it wasn't anything too fancy. Heading inside, he saw a wooden table with  a chair, a few maps on top of the table, a small shelf he had housed some books and notes he had written, and a decent-sized bed.

        His joints ached almost on instinct at the sight of the bed. It was only two days since his arrival at the camp, and he had already developed a particular hatred for that bed. It was stiff, hard against his backside, and, worst of all, it creaked. Oh God how it creaked. Thankfully he would hold off actually getting on the damned thing as long as possible. Right now, he had things to mull over. And not just the message István had sent him, oh no. Far more personal matters needed to be dealt with.

        Sitting down at the table, he picked up a folded note, one that had arrived yesterday. He had managed to intercept the messenger before Twilight or the Hungarian could even know of its existence, and upon reading it, he had good reason to. Charles opened the note. The somewhat messy typing laid before him like an eldritch tome of forbidden knowledge, Charles taking in its contents with a grim face.

        To Prinz Franz,

        I do not know how to begin this letter. What words would seem most fitting to you, what would help you? What would help me? I do know however that you are as troubled by this as I am. We departed on less than amicable circumstances, and my heart aches that this was so. Know that I never meant you any harm in what I said, and I would like to think you meant me no harm in turn.

        As to the Griffon in the room, as the saying goes, I am unsure. I did not expect this response from you, this sentiment that seemed insane at the very thought of it. In hindsight I suppose it was foreseeable. I being the main male figure in your life, giving you valiant tales of your father that you swallowed up like a starving peasant. How foolish of me not to. If only I had known, I could have thought up a response that would have left us both on good terms...

        There were a few crossed out sections after that paragraph, ones that Charles tried yet failed to figure out. Only a few words at most were legible with the blank ink only barely passing through them. Sorry. Love. Hate. So little to take from, yet it set his mind ablaze with possibilities, some good. Some very bad. He continued on

        There is no time for wondering about what-ifs though. You know me well enough that I hate people who gaze nostalgically into the past, instead of being concerned about the future, the things which can be changed. And right now, our future is to be decided upon what we can agree upon. I admit I am not sure if these feelings you've exposed to me make me feel honored or disturbed, my mind still locked in a tight battle over just what to feel. What I do know is that you are my student, and that this is causing you harm. And that is unacceptable.

        Franz, despite my own unsureness on the matter, I would at least accept your feelings with tolerance. I know it took much of you to say those words, and know that despite whatever happens, I do not hate you. I care for you, both you and Twilight, and to even imagine you in such distress causes me great woe. I would love to discuss this further with you. But matters such as this are best suited to personal conversation. If you would, I would wish to discuss this further when you return to Wien. As soon as possible. Write back if you agree with this idea. If you are angry at me or otherwise incapacitated, and cannot write back, I shall wait anyway. I eagerly await your return.

        -From, Antoine de Prokesch-Osten

        Post Script: Good show on your exit from Wien. I had quite a good laugh from that. Give Twilight my regards on her speed as well, despite not getting out much she went out like she had a steam engine powering her! And of course, tell her I give her my best wishes as well. Good day.

        Charles' head lolled back as he crumpled up the note his hand, dropping it to the ground when he was done. What was he supposed to do? Antoine was surprisingly more reciprocating than he expected, but that was in writing. It didn't have the same emotional intensity as an actual conversation, as the stallion noted. Should he respond? He still felt mixed on the whole affair. On one hand, he wanted to discuss this further with Antoine, partly in some vain hope that the major would perhaps accept his feelings. And on the other, he wished to shut down the whole discussion entirely, push it to the back of his mind and put things back to how they were. It'd be much simpler then, and not as much of a headache for him as well.

        Speaking of headaches, a painful ache started to spread throughout his forehead. Charles put a hand to the area, grunting in the sudden pain. Combined with the constant, dull ache in his lungs, it was enough to force him to get up and lie on his stiff bed. Uncomfortable as it may be, it was the best option currently for some form of rest. In the last few days, and especially since he had arrived, these pains had grown in intensity. For a while he had thought he was safe from these ills, but they had only returned with a vengeance now. His lungs felt as if they were on fire, and his head, oh God his head. It was as if an iron spike had been implanted in it.

        Charles was unsure if it was just his damned crystal body, or the trouble with Antoine that had increased his ills. Either way, it did not help him on his decision on just what to do about Antoine. He'd hold off the decision as long as possible; that was all he could do right now. And if as long as possible meant forever, then so be it. There were more pressing concerns anyway. He had to travel tomorrow, and he would have to be as strong as possible to not show any sign of weakness. The very idea of showing his current status to Twilight or, he shivered at the very idea, István, let alone a bunch of high-up strangers in the K.u.K, was not an option to him. This was his time to shine, not the time for him to succumb to his own cursed weaknesses.

        He groaned heavily as another lance of pain struck through him. Dammit! When would this end? He was pushing his luck already just by lying down. God forbid if anyone entered at this very moment. "Hey Charles, you in there?" Twilight's voice called out from beyond the tent flaps.

        Dammit! was all Charles could think right now. Was some deity just messing with him, like some troll screwing with random bridge travellers? That was the only explanation for the awful coincidence right now. He had to think fast, he did not need Twilight seeing him like this. "Yes. I'm busy at the moment though, would you mind seeing me later?" he said, not able to prevent some of his tiredness from showing through.

        "Are you sure? I'd really like to talk to you, especially with what István just told me."

        Oh he was going to absolutely kill the Hungarian when he saw him next. Or just strangle. Either way, Twilight was being persistent. And if he knew her, and he did all too well, she would not stop until she got what she desired. The best he could do was try and lessen the inevitable fallout. Rising up from his bed with a heavy groan, Charles sat on the edge of it, finding his strength and will lacking to continue further. He tried to make himself as presentable as possible, straightening his mussed hair and pressing the ragged edges of his uniform. After that, he finally answered the increasingly impatient mare. "If you wish, I'll speak to you. Make it quick though, I'm doing something at the moment."

        On the other side of the tent, Twilight did an about-face. Charles was acting far more disgruntled and disinclined towards her than usual--much more than the usual. If her suspicions were raised before, they were on fire now. "Okay, I'm coming in..."

        As the mare trailed off, she squeezed herself into the tent, the size of it almost being too small for her. She took in the sight of the sitting human with equal parts worry and disbelief. "You sure look busy," she deadpanned.

        Charles glared her way, groaning loudly as he passed some fingers through his blond locks. "I am busy, in that I am thinking. Mainly over the topic you no doubt wish to discuss with me."

        Twilight nodded. "Yes. So, we're going out to an actual military maneuver."

        He didn't need any further hints to tell she was worried by this. "Yes, we are. Why do you mention this, are you displeased in some way?"

        The unicorn shook her head fiercely, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "No, just... worried," she said after a pause, to consider her words, "I mean, we're going out with István, and I know it's going to be safe and all, but I can't help but get a bad feeling from all of this. Like something awful is going to happen," the mare confessed.

        Considering her words, Charles lowered his head. "I can see why you'd worry Twilight. But don't fret, I am sure everything will go well. I can feel it. This is only the beginning. I swear, after this, it's-"

        He started on a half-slurred ramble, sounding like he was both incredibly into it, and tired at the same time. It worried Twilight, especially when he got into some more radical and obscure ideas like 'crossing the Channel on ships of steam!' but she listened out of politeness all the same. Perhaps he was just tired? She'd like to believe that. It'd make things much less worrisome on her part.

Charles was still continuing his rant, his head lolled back to stare up blankly at the top of the tent. Twilight was getting tired of this now, especially as his words were growing more and more surreal and tired. "Okay, okay, if you believe we'll be fine, I'll go along with you. I was just wondering," she interrupted him.

Mercifully, he stopped the rant, yet continued to stare up with that blank look. It was making Twilight very uncomfortable, and she wasn't sure just what to do. Walking out was out of the question, there was no way she was leaving him like this. Something was bothering him, either physically or mentally. Perhaps both, but she hoped it was just a mental problem. The possibility of renewed physical ills for Charles scared her immensely.

Something caught her attention on the floor. A small, crumpled up note. Lifting it up with her magic, Twilight opened and read it. Her eyes widened the further she read, and when she was done, she put it down on the table, looking at Charles sadly. "Hey," she began insecurely, trying to catch his attention.

That finally got him out his strange dull setting, as the prince's eyes focused on her with a sharp intensity and off the tent. "Yes?" he mumbled, obviously tired yet trying his best to continue.

Twilight chanced a look at the note on the table, as if to remind herself of her reasons to do this risky venture. "So you're having some problems with Antoine then?"

There wasn't any huge difference in his posture as she said this. Nothing most people would get anyway. There were little hints though, like the increased tension in his shoulders, or the pursing of his lips. To Twilight, who had almost a lifetime's worth of experience with him, it was like a blazing star in terms of attention. His eyes narrowed by a fraction of a centimeter as he tried to formulate a response to the unexpected question. "Nothing to concern yourself with."

Twilight was taken aback at the unusually harsh response. "What?" was all she could say.

"You heard me. It's nothing that concerns you," he motioned towards the exit, "Leave me."

"I will not."

The firmness in her voice set him on edge. "Excuse me?"

"I will not," Twilight said with a hard confidence, "You're obviously suffering because of this. If you think I'm just leaving you to stew in your sorrows... Well, let's just say you've got a very bad idea of my character than."

        Charles felt the odd urge to bite his lip, and refused it utterly. Was... was Twilight shaking, or was it just him? No, no, ignore it, it's just a distraction, surely it meant nothing at all. He took a deep gulp, trying his best to wetten his dry mouth with whatever was available. "I am fine. There is no reason to worry. I will deal with this in the way I choose to. You have no idea of what this situation entails, so don't think you can barge in, and order me around!"

        Twilight flinched at the severity of his words. Charles' face was flushed with blood now, giving him a strange crimson look that didn't suit him at all. His breathing was rough and haggard, his hair disheveled, and upon closer inspection the mare could see his eyes were slightly bloodshot. Just what was wrong with him? She was torn between storming out right there out of fury at his horrid behavior, and continuing to stay, if only to help her friend. In the end, the interests of others won out for her. As usual.

        Trotting closer to Charles, Twilight laid herself on the bed, right next to him, squeezing in tightly in order to fit. He made no motion or sound to dissuade her, only glaring at her in stubborn tenacity. Without even asking him, Twilight nuzzled his cheek, pressing comfortably against his side. Again, he did not stop her, though his expression did get noticeably less offended. In fact, it was almost contented.

        Putting the tip of her snout close to his ear, Twilight rested her head on his shoulder before speaking. She wasn't sure if this was idle speculation or her own observance, but she could swear his breathing hitched when she did this. "I want to help you Charles. I'm not interested in ordering you, or anything like that, just help. Do you understand?"

        Charles gulped, fighting back some stuttered words from escaping his lips. Hastily, he pushed himself off the bed, running over to the other side of the tent and pressing his back against the fabric. He looked suspiciously at the still sitting Twilight. The mare looked embarrassed over her rather intimate actions, looking away from him ashamedly. Charles rolled his eyes at this silliness, wishing he could just fall asleep now. "I don't need help," Charles almost hissed out, "I am perfectly fine. That letter was just showing some delusions Antoine suffers, nothing more."

        "It didn't sound like that."

        His fist tightened instinctively. "Well, that's your view of the situation. While the actual facts are quite to the contrary. There is no problem, no problem at all."

        Twilight looked down before responding. "Charles, your hands are shaking."

        After checking this, Charles realized she was right. They were shaking. He didn't even feel it until she pointed it out. It perturbed him greatly, but he couldn't back down now, not when he had already provided a hard defense until now. "That doesn't matter, what matters is-"

        "What do you mean it doesn't matter?!" Twilight shouted, causing Charles to nearly jump at the sound, "It matters because you're obviously hurting, and your rampant denial is not helping your case! Stop being a stubborn idiot, and actually listen to me!"

        His teeth began gritting against each other. That actually was his own reaction, not instinctive at all. "Fine, what do you want me to do? Go to him and beg forgiveness? Ha, as if I would."

        Twilight only looked at him sympathetically. It somehow made him more regretful of his conduct than any words of hers could. He almost hated her for the way those damned looks effected him. It was enough to make him wonder if her magic could effect emotions as well, for surely that was the only way she could play such trickery on his emotions, right? Right, that wasn't crazy at all... a part of his thoughts whispered. Great, now even his mind was mocking him.

        Seeing Charles' eyes flicker back and forth like he was tracking someone else's movements, despite no one else being in the room with them, Twilight  spoke. "I don't want you to worry Charles. I want you to write a letter to him, tell him you want to talk, so you can both have some peace of mind. That's all. Can you do that? If not for me, then for yourself?"

        Curse her honesty, curse it to the deepest pits of Acheron! Charles felt his eye twitch. That couldn't be good, but he could not care less right now about such trivialities. Instead he sighed reluctantly. Twilight was too damn innocent, too sincere for him to deny her even in his most stubborn of moods. If she ever took an interest in interrogation, she'd reel in confessions by the bucket-load with her voice alone. The thought was just enough to cause his lips to twitch upward. "So," he began slowly, "That's it then. Write a letter, tell him I want to talk when I get back. You think that will just work and solve everything?"

        Even at the almost sarcastic tone in his question, Twilight nodded sincerely. "Yes. If you're willing to of course. It's not like I'm going to force you,  fake it, or anything like that, even if I could."

        At that Charles did laugh, heartily in fact. "Oh, I am not so sure about, Liebchen. If you tried hard enough I am sure you could persuade me through more, dare I say, extravagant methods. Or forge my signature, you having seen it enough times," he said, smirking finally.

        Twilight smirked back at him, glad to join in the fun. "And just what do you mean by 'extravagant' methods?"

        He put a hand to his mouth and began mumbling a few words, the most of which Twilight could hear being 'molasses', 'magic', and 'books'. Somehow she wasn't keen on knowing any further than that. But then, a clapping sound that came from neither of them drew their attentions to the entrance of the tent. "Bravo, bravo, glad to see you two kiddies get along so well again." István laughed, clapping like he was watching some performance in front of them.

        Charles was unsure whether to be enraged or just plain creeped out at his presence. "What are you- Better question, how long have you been there?"

        István shrugged apathetically. "Long enough to get a good lark out of this. Oh yes, you two provide more good entertainment than the plays I go too. That's not saying much actually, but still, it had all the parts I was looking for in entertainment. Comedy, drama, reconciliation, and the ambiguous tension that is oh so delicious to mull over!"

        With each word István made a flamboyant gesture to accompany it, clearly delighted at how much fun this was. To their credit neither Charles nor Twilight made any external move in response, none of them acting on any urges to murder the man, most of them coming from Charles. "Ambiguous? What do you mean by that?" Twilight asked suspiciously.

        István faked a decent look of embarrassment, averting eye contact with the mare. "I believe you would rather not know, what with the implications and all..."

        Twilight did not know why, but she blushed deeply at that answer. "Implications? What does that even mean?"

        "Naughty things. Let's just say that," István devilishly answered.

        "How about you leave my tent now, and let me get some rest?" Charles said, looking quite annoyed by this point.

        "But Prinz, this was just getting go-"

        István was unable to finish his merriment, as Charles hurled a nearby book his way. The Count only just dodged the thrown literature, smiling widely all the while. Raising himself up when it was all clear, István saluted the prince. "I think that's my cue to go then," István said, and left.

        Charles put his hand on the bridge of his nose, rubbing it fitfully in frustration. "That man, I swear..."

        "Did that demand include me as well mein Freund?" Twilight asked.

        It just came to Charles that she was still on his bed. Disturbing. And combined with what István said just now... ugh. He definitely needed sleep after this. "I would prefer it, seeing as you're on my bed and all."

        "Okay than. Will you write him a letter?"

        "Then I shall promise that fully."

        "Great!" she jumped off the bed, going over to Charles and nuzzling him slightly, "See you tomorrow then. And tell Antoine I said hi!"

        With that Twilight was off, leaving Charles alone in his tent. Sighing, he made his way over to the table, and sat down. He was amazed it didn't become a mess in the chaotic atmosphere of the small space, but perhaps he was just lucky in that regard. Grabbing a nearby quill and a blank piece of parchment, he set the parchment in front of him, quill hovered right above it. There was no movement for a few moments, only Charles staring blankly at the parchment in front of him.

        To Antoine, my-

What to say here? Charles put the quill to his lips, idly biting on the tip of it as he tried to come up with a good word. Friend seemed too informal, he needed to come off as respectful, to earn his forgiveness. It would be the same reason he would not use that word, that word which had gotten him into this whole mess. Yet he still needed something that would create an air of goodwill and understanding. So in that case, the answer was obvious.

teacher

        It is with great joy I learn you do not harbor any ill will towards me and my unneeded words. Dismissing my own feelings towards the situation for the moment, seeing you are unharmed by this so far is a delight to hear. My mind has been stymied in thoughts of whether you had been holed up in depression as a result of this, so this news is great.

        Good, that got his thanks out of the way. It'd shore up Antoine, make him feel more secure. Now, the worst part. Elaborating his own thoughts and wishes. How horrid.

        Forgive me for my brevity some days past, I was being foolish. As grateful as I am for your tolerance in this matter, I would have understood fully if you wished to cut off contact with me as a result of this. Thankfully that is not the case. It truly was a pain to express my thoughts to you, and it has been most... worrisome to wonder just what you thought. I left in a fuss, I admit, but we were both unprepared for any such discussion.

        Your suggestion leaves me hearty with contentment. Talking with you, preferably in private, would soften the blows this has given us, and sort out any problems in our minds for the moment. When I return, I would gladly wish to speak with you. If you would give me the honor of that. So consider your request, approved.

        -With you in mind, Prinz Franz

        He stared unnervingly at the document in front of him for a few moments, criticizing it with his own eyes. It seemed too stiff, too awkward for sending, yet he knew not what else to write. Speaking in such fluffy, almost obnoxious prose was always a comfort to him, a way to lose himself in grandiose words and such without delving too deeply into the meaning of the words as a whole. Now, every word felt liked it needed to be considered, to be weighed. And not just the words, but the spacing, the periods, even the blasted messy handwriting he so often used.

        As he thought earlier, how horrid. But, this could be adequate, even with its faults. He doubted Antoine would honestly care so much for the structure of the document, and more on the actual content: I'm sorry, I'd love to speak with you again, don't hate me please. How pathetic of him. Yet there was little else he could say. Weaknesses were despicable, yes, but they were there all the same. Antoine, his family, and most important of all, that lavender mare. Oh the weakness she provoked in him... Once again, he was pathetic.

        Grunting suddenly, he put the hastily written letter down, beginning to fold it into a proper form for sending. He had wasted too much time now with such nonsense, as he always did so when alone. It made him wish for Twilight's presence again, just for someone to bounce ideas off of, or just general chatter. Even the damned Hungarian would be almost welcome now, if the memory of him intruding on a personal discussion wasn't still freshly burnt into his mind. It was a pity he couldn't execute the man, it'd save him much trouble.

        The blatant evil of this thought did not cross the prince at all.

        Nodding to himself, Charles placed the finished letter on the bottom portion of his bed. He would send it off tomorrow, before they left for Croatia. The troops would be sending letters home at that time as well, so it would be the perfect time. Now that he was finished however, there was one last thing to deal with. Sleep. His eyelids felt like rocks were tied to them, so hard was there downward pull, and he did not doubt that he looked abhorrent in other areas as well. Twilight's concerned looks were evidence enough for that.

 That mare, she could prove more troublesome than needed in her caring sometimes. He almost wished a cruel streak developed within her, so sure was he that it would be less crippling than her generosity. Or the other things that 'Princess Celestia' told her. As suspicious as he was of those tales though, her concern was valid in this case, as much as he hated it shown to him. It was his hope that clearing this mess with Antoine would help his woes, even minimally, but his more rational thoughts were clear in how unlikely this would be.

He had suffered from these ills and more for a long time now. His body was weak, frail, pathetic. How could he proclaim himself his father's heir with such weakness? He couldn't, not at all. It was a constant thought, an eternal reminder every time he ached, or felt chills, or anything of the like. He was not his father, nor would he ever be. That was fuel enough for his more melancholy moods, such as now.

Suddenly, Charles felt an intense self-loathing, and urge to slap himself. God, how pathetic was he, sitting there bemoaning his own fate. He spoke to himself, trying to cast the doubts from his mind by will alone. "I shall never get anywhere like this, pitiful and decrepit. No, I must stay strong, I must, if not have it fully to myself, cast the appearance of vitality, so as to carry myself to the troops well."

Yes, yes, he wanted, no, needed to do this. He would be leading troops on actual formations soon! They might not be real battles of valor and heroism, but it was enough for now. And what kind of man was he, to act so sorrowful and whiny when he had his heritage to consider? What would Antoine think? What would his father? What would, and this thought carried a somehow more special place in his mind, Twilight think? Nothing good at all, he assured himself of this. He would show them all that he was not some arrogant lout, that he did not get this position by birth alone! That’s what he convinced himself to believe, the truth being unacceptable to him.

So with his will reaffirmed, Charles swept the doubt from his mind, for now at least. His body still ailed him, but he ignored it dutifully, keeping a firm expression that betrayed none of the pains that plagued him so greatly. Yes, he did not need physical strength to keep himself in check. He had his wits, his knowledge, all the practice he had done for years now, just to lead up to the coming events. And most importantly of all, he had his will, unbending and incorrigible. As long as he had that, nothing could stop him.

It was dark. Dramatics done finally, Charles felt the burden of sleep begin to fall upon his eyes. He could afford rest now that his nuisances, both internal and external, were finally done with. There were always books to read, maps to study up on, maybe even practicing some of the Hungarian the damnable yet useful Count had sought to teach him. He decided against this though, offering himself this one little comfort, if only to prepare himself more for tomorrow. If he could not keep a steady façade, he was surely doomed.

With a great lurch, he pushed himself off the table, and practically dropped like a hammer onto the bed. Sleep came quickly to the prince, as thoughts and visions of what was to come passed in his mind. Some of them good. Some of them bad. All of them shared one trait though. A purple mare, by his side, always a steady pillar of support. And thus, he was content.

---

It was a barren and desolate site. No life could be seen for miles around Charles, who stood alone in the vast wasteland around him. The only thing he could sense was the pungent air around him, which made his already burning lungs nearly overheated from exposure. Trying his best to ignore the sensation, Charles looked around him, searching for any signs of life.

        "They're all dead you know."

        Charles turned to the see the voice behind him, and was struck silent by what he saw. A man, balding at the head, with red centurion armor, raven-like facial features, and the sharpest eyes Charles had ever saw on a man. "Caesar? Julius Caesar!?" Charles stuttered out in surprise, backing off at the sight of a long dead man.

        The man who looked all too much like Caesar did not respond to that comment, only continuing on his own speech. "Dead. Dead for petty reasons. For land. For money. For power. Titles, peerage, all these and more. Of course, the men who fought received none. Only those who ordered them into the battlefield, the finely-dressed senators and heads of state who were content to dine on their own spoils, instead of caring for the soldiers, of all species, who fought under their banner without complaint."

        Without warning, the landscape changed. Bodies. Hundreds, no, thousands of them. All around, miles and miles of them, human and pony. Clad in armor of all ages, some gored beyond belief, and some looking like dolls with how still and perfect their forms were, the only evidence they were once alive being the cold flesh around them and the rigid bones inside of their bodies. It was like a field of death, death and noxious odors that offended all of his senses at once.

 Charles felt pure cold and dead flesh against his feet. He looked down to see the bodies were all around him as well, almost up to his knees. They were piled like simple construction tools, stacked up without care for the lives they once housed. Most of their  faces were uncovered. Their eyes were left bare to see, all staring with the same blank, lifeless look. Dull pupils, pale flesh and still fur were all he could find. Their lifeless eyes stared back at him, unmoving and unbearable to watch. Charles didn’t know why, but they looked accusing. It terrified him, made him want to claw his own eyes out at the pure unadulterated terror of it all.

And oh God the stench. It reeked of everything horrid he had ever smelled and more. If there was only one way he could describe it, it would be death. Pure death alone, mixed with rotting flesh and the miserable despair brought on by an awful place like this. It was so alien and disgusting to him, that he nearly vomited when the smell first reached him. There was no way to properly enunciate how awful this was in his thoughts alone, only experiencing this horror or something similar could ever allow you to imagine it.

The figure did not pay heed to the dead around him. He stood tall, triumphant, unburdened by the dead. Charles wished so hard that he could emulate him. "I led soldiers," the voice said, now different.

In Caesar’s place now stood a black-haired man, in generals armor with the colors of the Eastern Roman Empire. There was not even a flash, or anything to signal a switch of bodies, the new figure was just... there. It was Belisarius, the last of the Romans himself, conqueror of the West! "I led them to victory, against Lombards and more, against bad odds aplenty. And I won.”

Charles listened with a dazed expression, ignoring the bodies around him now. His feet, almost on instinct alone, walked forward, to get closer to the long dead dictator, marching through corpses, sometimes stepping right on the faces of the deceased. Belisarius changed into another figure of the past. Now there was a brown-bearded man in a white turban, with tanned skin and brown eyes. “But I was not content with a few simple victories. No, I desired more,” Sultan Mehmed II gloated.

It was if Charles was in a trance. Even as the dead spoke in cryptic tones and made dreadful transformations, continually ignorant of both the living and the dead around him. To him, all he could hear was the tempting sounds of those he admired, hoping to find some words of wisdom in them. He was sure, sure that if he listened, the appropriate words would come, and he would be alright. If that meant trudging through the ranks of the dead, all cold and clammy, it would be worth it. The figure changed again, this time to a blond haired Scandinavian.

 "You could say I wanted more for my people," Gustavus the Great of Sweden said.

        Gustavus stopped, like he wanted Charles to answer him. The prince didn't know what to say though, so he stared at the ground in embarrassment, feeling foolish over meeting one of his idols, and having nothing to say in response. "It takes just one man to change the world. One man alone," a new voice spoke.

        Looking up, Charles found yet another figure standing where Gustavus stood. A worn and tired looking man, with a gray curled hair. It was the black uniform with the iron cross on it and piercing stare that made Charles’ recognize the man. So intense was his stare, the prince balked back in fear, nearly tripping on some of the corpses behind him as he did so. It was him. One of the greats, a favorite among favorites for him. “When the titans of Europe were arrayed against me,” Frederick der Grosse said, as unmindful of the corpses as Caesar before him, “I fought. I fought tooth and nail against Austria, France, Sweden, and Russia.”

        What was happening here? Charles wondered. Was he going insane? This couldn’t be a vision, such things being beyond the realm of possibility to him. Was his fever so bad, that it was causing such malcontent thoughts? Ignoring his distress, Frederick smiled cunningly, the most vibrant expression he had made so far. “And I won. With skill, leadership, and more than a fair bit of luck, I stood triumphant.”

        Frederick did not change after a few lines, unlike the others. He simply stood there, watching, judging with his sharp eyes alone. It made Charles feel very small, the eyes of this titan of history. There was a small period of silence, as Frederick looked neutrally at him, as if awaiting a response. But Charles felt his throat contract at the very thought of speaking. Frederick, seeing him unresponsive, continued unabated. “One man. That is all it takes at times. Oh, some would say it takes more than that to change the world, but well,” he chuckled darkly, pointing towards himself, “Experience begs to differ.”

        “But how!” Charles choked out, finally escaping from his vocal constrictions.

        The great King of Prussia raised an eyebrow to his question. “How?” Charles continued, “How do I succeed? How do I lead men, take power, make myself... worthy?”

        There was no response from the long dead King, and that caused Charles to sink to his knees, falling on top of a dead human centurion. Charles could only extend his deepest gratitude that there was no stench from the corpses, otherwise he would have vomited long ago. As he spoke again, his voice cracked at the edges, taking on an almost pleading tone.

“I’m not ready for this, I know. I make all these assertions, demands, and I finally get here, and I’m not ready. I know I only got this position because I’m royalty, not out of any skill of mine, and I curse myself for it. I was brash and idiotic in my exit from the city, nearly getting me and Twilight killed as a result! And the men, oh God the men. These men, they follow me only out of fear of what would happen otherwise if they disobeyed me, I know. I’m sure it is the damned Count’s presence alone that keeps them in line. All my life I wanted to get outside of the palace, and now that I am, well... I’m terrified. I’ve never had it hard, I’ve never met anyone outside the Court who didn’t lick my boots due to my station...”

        At that Frederick coughed into his hand, indicating otherwise. “Yes, except her...” Charles smiled without even knowing it, thoughts of how the King knew this flying over his head.

        All of a sudden, everything disappeared. The corpses, Frederick, even the ground below him. Gone. Total blankness surrounded him. It could be called white, what was around him, save it was total, all-encompassing. Everything. Standing upright again, Charles dashed his head back and forth, looking around for anything, any sign that there was life around him.

        Blankness greeted him. Everything was gone. “Hello!” Charles yelled out, hoping desperately for some response.

        Silence answered him. In fact, it would be better to call it a void of sound, as there was no other hint of any sound save the fading echoes of Charles’ voice. “Anybody!” he called out, sounding noticeably more desperate now.

        Still nothing. “Please, anybody! Answer me!”

        And once again, emptiness. The reality dawned on him, horribly so. There was no one, no sign of life, nothing to offer him some refuge of sanity. He was alone. Perfectly alone. His breathing hastened noticeably, with the burning in his lounges rising by the second. The bare skin of his body felt terribly cold he realized. “Grandfather!” he cried, almost expecting the wizened figure of his grandfather to appear on command.

        “Mortiz! de Foresti!” he screamed the names of his old teachers, hoping still.

        The crushed expression on Charles’ face only grew at the sheer lack of response. “Mother? Antoine? Please, somebody answer. Please!” he fully begged now, rasping and panting in plentiful fear.

        This time, the emptiness nearly destroyed him in its permanence. “Twilight!? Twilight, are you there?!”

        She was his last hope. The one who was always there, always so perfect and good in nature. It was only natural to the prince that she would appear instantly, magically so, for that was who she was. And yet, there was still only the blankness, the awful blankness that smashed his hopes away with its presence, or lack thereof, alone. Charles forced his eyes shut, blinking away the droplets that threatened to escape his eyes. “You promised Twilight! You’d promise you’d help me!”

        There were no attempts to hide the cracks in his voice now. He buried his face fully in his hands, the only hope left in his mind broken in an instant. Was this how he was destined to die? In some sordid place such as this. It was equal parts ironic and horrible beyond words to Charles. But, it seemed almost fitting perhaps. That he die like this, like the scum of the earth, alone and forgotten. He would even laugh if his throat didn’t strain at the very thought.

In the end, there was only one thing he could focus on. One image, one voice, one that soothed him in his darkest of times, that provided strength to him in his most pathetic of moments. “Father,” he muttered longingly.

“Yes?”

Gasping at the sudden voice from behind, Charles turned and nearly choked at what he saw. A man with oily black hair, not a few inches shorter than himself, wearing a simply gray long coat with a blue undershirt. His face was set in a scowl, and was beset with lines of stress. And Charles recognized him on sight. “F-Father?” he whimpered in stunned disbelief.

The dead emperor’s eyes softened when they met Charles’. “That I am,” Napoléon replied lowly.

Charles stood there, jaw agape at the sight of his long dead father. He walked forward, in trembling small steps, until he finally was right in front of him. The prince timidly raised a small finger towards the emperor, poking his shoulder, just to confirm if he was actually there or not. Napoléon was not able to resist smirking at this behavior, though that smirk was quickly lost when he realized the disparity in size between the two of them. “You’re taller than me,” he said neutrally.

Charles didn’t know what to say to that, so shocked was he still. It was true, he was about a half a foot taller than his father. He almost dwarfed him in fact. It just wasn’t the first thing he noticed about him though, or the second, or even the third. There were no words for this moment, nothing he could come up with to explain how he felt, the bottled up words in his mind unable to escape and allow him to say what he wished to say. So he ignored his brain, and did something from his heart. He, without warning, pulled his father into the biggest bear-hug you could imagine, nearly crushing the smaller man in his embrace.

There were no words spoken between the two. Because nothing needed to be said. Charles just held on as tight as he could, pressing his head against his fathers own, reveling in the feel of his hair. For his part Napoléon did nothing save stand there and accept it with a stone face. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Charles, he let go, a saddened look on his face. “You’re... you’re not real, are you?” the prince forced himself to say, the dread his tone confirming his thoughts.

Napoléon smiled bitterly up at him. “You are my son. You should be smart enough to know that answer.”

Swallowing a whimper, Charles nodded, accepting. He looked down briefly, before sitting down away from the... whatever the false emperor was. It took only a minute to Charles before the faux-Napoléon sat down with him. “You have doubts. About the future,” was all he said.

Charles muttered a muted ‘yes,’ preferring to ignore the spectre to the best of his abilities. Either ignorant or uncaring of his attempts, Napoléon began speaking again. “You know, history is like a wave of sorts.”

That caught the attention of the prince, as his eyes shifted to focus on his dead father. “It flows forward without stopping,” Napoléon continued, “Yet the smallest interruption can change it’s course, can muddle it, can form it to whatever he wishes. That interruption can be an item, an idea,” the emperor chuckled darkly, “a revolution.”

“Or a single man,” Charles commented.

Napoléon lips twitched upward at that. “Good, good, it’s nice to see you’ve learned something, cooped up like some chicken most of your life.”

Charles couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. “Not the expression I’d use, but appropriate all the same I suppose.”

The prince couldn’t help himself from puffing his chest at even the most obscene comparison to his father, even one uttered by a construction of his own subconscious. “Hmm. Yet what am I to do?” he bemoaned, sinking into his sallow state once more.

“What? Are you speaking of your command?” Napoléon asked, and upon receiving a nod he spoke again, “Well what do you expect? You will lead men into training, and polish your own skills as well. You cannot just seize greatness my son, you must build it up over time.”

Charles looked defiant at that, and countered. “But I’m your son, I should be great, I should be perfect, I should-”

“Be patient,” Napoléon cut him off ruthlessly, now looking up disapprovingly at him.

The muddled expression on his face was enough to tell the spectre how little he knew of what he meant. “What I am saying is, be mindful, and always watch for opportunities. Seize the day, carpe diem, when you have the chance, but always, always my son, be ready when that day comes.”

Charles considered these words, putting a hand to his chin in forethought. He stayed that way, quiet and contemplative, for a few minutes before speaking again. “But, what if I fail?” he said, unable to keep the big ‘what if’ out of the discussion.

“Then you will have failed,” Napoléon said matter-of-factly.

“But, I, I can’t!” Charles denied harshly.

“Because I am your son, and you never-”

“Don’t say that,” the emperor snapped, looking at him with contemptuous eyes for a moment before they softened again.

“Did you forget your studies already? What leader has not failed?”

Charles considered this, and even thought of making an attempt at mockery towards his father in relation to the question, yet decided against it. He was still unconvinced anyway. “That does not help me in the least. I must do well soon, or else-”

“Yet you got this position how?” Napoléon said disapprovingly.

Charles was very quiet after that, blushing fiercely and looking ashamed. He looked down at the white floor he sat on, trying to lose himself in something other than this conversation at the moment. “Let me tell you one thing my son,” Napoléon told him, uncaring of his attempts at escape.

“That no matter what befalls you, you must have an iron will. Do you wish to escape my shadow? Then live, without worry over such petty trivialities, and focus on bettering yourself. Have you ever truly listened to anyone’s opinions, and had your own changed as a result?”

The lack of response was answer enough. “Exactly. I would not worry about the possibilities emergent in your little training session, not so much as the internal struggles you are dealing with.”

Charles bit his lip, not wanting to accept it, but feeling he should all the same. The emperor smiled as he caught the internal dilemma in him. His stubbornness seemed to be genetic. With that thought done, Napoléon stood up, walking away from Charles and leaving without warning. Charles turned to find him walking aimlessly in the void. “Father, where are you going?!” Charles yelled.

Napoléon stopped, and looked back at him. “Away. I have done all I can for you now, now to let you take your own course. I can only hope you take the best one, my son,” he said, before turning back.

“Wait, father, one more question!”

He turned back again to look at his son, needy and almost desperate in his countenance. “Yes?”

“What do you think of Twilight?” was all Charles said.

His response was not one Charles expected at all. The phantom laughed heartily, before turning away from him again. “Oh my boy, must you ask?”

Charles’ face scrunched up at the answer. “What do you mean by that? Father, answer me!” he pleaded.

No answer came, as the phantom just... disappeared. One moment he was there, walking away, the next he wasn’t. It was as if he was never there to begin with. “Father?!” Charles yelled.

There was nothing. He was alone. Again. Faced with all encompassing blankness that threatened to swallow him whole, Charles only had one thing to say.  “Merde.”

And then, everything exploded.

---

May 30th

Charles awoke to the feeling of something poking roughly against his side. “You up?” the Hungarian asked, or what Charles could make out through his tired state.

Grumbling noisily, Charles turned over in his makeshift bed. That did not deter István at all, as he continued poking the seventeen year-old with a stick. “Wake up,” István said, giggling lowly at the situation.

The Count’s smirk was so strong that Charles could feel it on his back, even when he couldn’t see it. Enduring a few more pokes at most, Charles finally forced himself up, eyes bloodshot and weary. He sat on the sheets he laid out for himself, all messed up and tangled now, and glared as fiercely as he could at István, who was unable to not laugh at how fussed-up the prince looked. “Did you have to poke me with a stick to wake me up?” Charles mumbled tiredly.

“Yes.”

István followed that answer by poking him in the side some more. If glares could burn, Charles’ would have set the Count ablaze by now. “I’m awake you know,” Charles said through gritted teeth.

“I know,” István simply answered.

The Hungarian continued to poke him, until Charles smacked the stick away with an irritated growl. “So why were you poking me?”

The prince sounded like he was going to murder the man if the answer wasn’t satisfactory. István took a moment to ponder this question, before shrugging his shoulders. “It was fun.”

Charles was actually dumbfounded into silence. “... That’s it?”

“Yes.” István put a finger to his chin, as if to think further it over. “Actually, there were reasons. Mainly, how you were all in a fuss in your sheets. You could hear yourself rambling from a few dozen feet away, so I came to help you out of your problems. It looked like a harsh nightmare, so it was the least I could do.”

Charles was silent again, though this time out of astonished gratitude more than anything else. “Well, if that is the case... thank you.”

István did a bow, and for once it wasn’t so fraudulent. “My pleasure.”

A very good question came to Charles’ mind then. “... But why did you poke me further, when I was already awake?”

“Oh, that? That was only for fun.”

Charles’ left eyelid found itself rapidly blinking, and his eyes got even more bloodshot somehow. “I wish to murder you,” the prince deadpanned.

“Meh, so do I sometimes,” István replied, and by God if Charles could tell whether he was being serious or not.

Thrown off by the surprise answer, and disturbed whether he meant himself or Charles in equal measure, Charles decided to change the topic. His memory felt fuzzy at the moment, most likely due to... whatever the hell he just experienced. Calling it a dream seemed too kind, and he was far too prideful to admit he had suffered from a nightmare. Openly at least. “That’s... good István. Now if you would stop being a nuisance, would you mind telling me where we are again?”

Sighing as loudly as possible, István proceeded to finally slap his face at Charles’ questions, letting the insult roll off of him. “If you insist,” István dryly said.

Ah, this was what Charles liked, the annoyed obedience. István should do it more, Charles thought, it suited him better. Well, not really, but it made the prince amused, so why not? “I do,” Charles smugly declared.

István did his best to narrow his eyes at Charles and possibly kill him with his glare alone. The defiantly amused look from the prince dashed his hopes. Coughing into his hand, István prepared to explain. “Seeing as you want me to be some sort of parrot that spouts off important details, let’s begin. We’re headed to the Slavonian Militärgrenze with the men-”

“I know that already,” Charles interrupted.

“It doesn’t seem like it...” István grumbled, before continuing, “And right now we’re resting near a town near the border of the grenze, after a two day trip thus far. We should be at our primary destination on the morrow.”

Charles nodded, mainly to himself, finally pleased with how events were going. “Good, good. We should probably rouse the...”

His words trailed off, as he realized by looking off into the distance, that the sun was only just now descending upon the horizon. Almost speechless, Charles turned to István with a gaunt face. “István.”

“Yes?” István responded, smile back in full force now.

“It’s almost night.”

“I see.”

There was a surprising lack of shouting or arguing from both parties, until Charles forced himself off from his bed, and walked off. “I’m getting a drink from the water stores. If I come back to you doing anything vulgar-”

“Like pissing on your bed?” István said non-chalantly.

Charles tripped on his feet at the comment, thrown off both metaphorically and physically. As the Count laughed his ass off while Charles forced himself up, the prince dusted off his uniform before replying. “Yes. Exactly like that,” was all Charles said, and then he left.

István amusingly noted he was so desperate to leave, he didn’t even finish his previous sentence. Oh, this was so worth not going to Berlin. If he had known how much fun babysitting would be, he would’ve taken it up ages ago. He was great with kids, especially ones with delusions of grandeur that made his father’s look tame in comparison! Now if only the rest of the trip was this smooth, he could divert his mind from its darker recesses if only for a little while...

“Herr István? Are you there?” he heard someone speak from afar, a voice which sounded suspiciously like a certain mare’s.

Thinking over it for a moment, István raised his hand to shoulder-level, as if to make a ‘why not?’ gesture. “Yes Fraulein, yes it is. Do come over, I am rather bored at the moment, and could do with the pleasure of decent company!” he yelled back.

Hearing the ‘clip-clop’ sounds of hooves on dirt get nearer and nearer, István laid down on the soft grass around him on his back. He stared up at the now starry night sky, looking content as he did so. The Hungarian Count spared Twilight a brief glance of acknowledgement when she appeared over him, casting a dark shadow on his body. “Fräulein. Excellent to see you,” István greeted kindly.

“You too.”

The mare seemed a bit anxious, so István decided to confront such topics and get it over with. “Something the matter?”

“Uh, yeah,” Twilight said, averting her eyes from István’s own, “Is Charles anywhere near...?”

The Count grunted to himself, barely preventing himself from rolling his eyes. “Ah, I should’ve known. The boys getting a drink.”

“So he should be back shortly?”

“No, seeing as when I left the main camp, our stores nearly empty, and the nearest source to refill our stock a mile or so out,” István said, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Lovely,” Twilight groaned.

“That’s life for you Fräulein, a constant string of never-ending nuisances.”

The Count took his right arm and patted the bare ground next to him with it, looking up expectantly at Twilight as he did so. “Sit down, you and I are both bored, so we might as well make use of good conversation time. Plus the stars are lovely, wouldn’t you say?”

Mulling it over for only a few moments, Twilight laid down next to the Count on her stomach, looking up at the sky with him. “It is. Reminds me of home,” she said, unable to keep the longing out of her voice.

That caused István some curiosity. He didn’t know of the unicorns origins, the info he received on her being rather light in comparison to Prince Franz’s, as to be expected. This could be some interesting info to gather, and to one as inclined to sating his curiosity as the Count, it was a proposition too tempting to avoid. “What’s your home like?”

Twilight didn’t answer, causing István some worry. Was this some sensitive topic from her? “If this is a sensitive topic to you, do forgive my transgression,” István apologized heartily.

“No, no,” Twilight muttered quickly, “It’s just... Strange, to talk about home.”

István pushed himself off from the ground slightly, balancing his raised upper body on his arms as he looked at the mare. “How so?”

“It’s just, I haven’t been there in so long, and yet it still seems so familiar to me. It’s kind of stupid, I know, but-”

“Stop right there Fräulein,” István interrupted, keeping a calm and steady tone, “That is not stupid in the least. It is only natural to be fond of one's place of birth.”

“That’s the thing though. I can barely remember most things about home, but there are certain things that are as clear as the day I experienced them. The stars, the forests, the princess...”

“Princess?”

“Princess Celestia.”

“... What.”

Twilight blushed suddenly, realizing what she had revealed now. “Oh, yes. I’m from, well, Equestria.”

“...”

“István, are you okay?” Twilight asked worriedly.

“I... I guess. Equestria you say?” István said, trying his best to sound neutral without bursting into laughter or loud groaning.

Finding his neutrality a welcome refresher from the usual result of this discussion, Twilight continued. “Yes. It’s a beautiful place. And even though I’ve been so far away from it now, my mind’s always busy over what’s happened there. If new books have been written, if the Princess is okay, if mom’s...”

Twilight choked on her words, unable to say much else besides that. István for his part stayed silent out of kindness, not sure what he would even say if he wanted to speak. “It’s hard, is what I’m saying,” Twilight finished, roughly and as fast as possible.

István nodded, not wanting to push her further on the topic. Instead he had another question, one which he hoped to God would not nearly be as contentious. “So if you’re from,” he winced as he tried to speak without breaking down, “Equestria, how did you get here?”

“Slavers.”

István could have punched himself right there if it wouldn’t be hilariously inappropriate. The Count spat on the ground next to him instead out of disgust. “Terrible, that’s just terrible. And I thought such scum were eliminated from the decent parts of the world.”

There was nothing else said, both of them staring uncomfortably at the stars as they tried to think of someway to end this awkwardness. István came first in that race, as his curiosity boiled up some more. “How did these, uh, slavers, come by you and...”

“Take me?” she finished for him, to which he gave a thankful nod.

Twilight had to prepare herself to explain, trying to recall the exact details of events perfectly. “It was a normal day at Canterlot Castle-”

To his credit, István did not laugh at all.

“-and I was playing with some other kids, because the Princess wanted me to.”

Somehow, she sounded fondly annoyed, a strange combination of emotions. “When, there was just a huge boom! And I can’t remember anything exactly after that.”

Twilight sounded ashamed at not knowing the specific details, not that anyone could fault her, but it still plagued her mind. “Darkness was all I could see. When I at last woke up, I was in a huge ship, bigger then anything I had encountered before. And then the trip across the ocean...”

She stopped briefly, to look pleadingly at István. “Can I not tell that part?” she asked, hints of desperation slipping through her tone.

István nodded, causing her to sigh thankfully before looking up again. “Danke. Anyway, I found myself in this strange new land, which I later learned to be the Reich. Right near the capital, Wien, in fact. I managed to escape from my captors after a while, and, well,” here she sounded relatively content, “Here I am.”

“Were they captured?” István asked.

“Huh?”

“The slavers. Were they captured?”

Twilight’s ears fell as he elaborated for her. “Oh. No, they never caught them.”

A dark look fell on István at the answer, but he forced it away. “How dreadful. Otherwise though, I have one response.”

Clap. Clap. Clap. The clapping rang from behind Twilight, who looked to see István was actually applauding her for her tale. “That’s something, Twilight,” he told her, smiling plaintively.

Smiling back at him, she nudged his leg with one of her hooves playfully. “You’re certainly a man of many words Count.”

“Bah, eloquent words are for those who can’t explain things well. I know that if you truly like something, the best way is to just show it, not tell it.”

“Well either way, thanks,” Twilight gratefully said.

“Don’t mention it.” István brushed her compliments off easily.

“No really, I insist. Usually when I tell people where I’m from, they’re suspicious to say the least.”

“I could imagine that,” István casually replied.

Twilight laughed at his behavior, putting a forehoof to her mouth to quiet her giggles. “Seriously Count, again, thanks.”

“And once again, don’t mention it. Let’s just look up at the stars, such serious discussion is ruining a perfectly good night.”

“Agreed,” Twilight said, and so they focused on the sky.

The truth was, István was as suspicious as all hell of her tale. Not just because of the simple fact that she’s from Equestria. No, there were more doubts he could raise than that. While he was looking up at the sky, he used the silence he created due to his excuses to think over this. For example, if Twilight was from Equestria, a... ‘nation,’ for lack of a better term, on the west coast of the Americas, how was she transported to an east coast naval port, smuggled aboard a slave ship, and taken all the way across the Atlantic and into the far end of the Mediterranean? And along with that, if Twilight was from Equestria as she said, how was she taken out of the area? One does not simply go to Equestria, and you are even less likely to go out of it.

It could be that the mare was lying and/or delusional in some sense, but that possibility seemed improbable to the Count. He had mired himself in the deceit and muck-slinging of court politics for decades now, and he could tell a liar with ease. And Twilight had no hints of deception in the least. Only pure, honest truth. And István trusted his senses more than ideas about an area people knew less than shit about. Even disregarding that though, there were a multitude of questions that demanded to be answered about her story.

How did such a ship, which from what he could gather seemed particularly reprehensible in design and nature, evade British patrols? How could they just waltz around the capital in a slave caravan without anyone noticing? How did Twilight just escape? How did no one capture these slavers, when they were alerted to their presence? And if Twilight was from Equestria, and her comments real, did that mean the mythological Princess Celestia and Luna were real as well?”

To all but the last one István had no answer. There was just not enough information, not enough context, not enough of, well, anything. It frustrated his mind, even though the situation related to him only tangentially, he still wanted to find out. On the points of the Princesses though, István’s mind took a dark turn. If they were real, first of all the Celestians and the Lunanites would go absolutely mad with delight. The cultists were little more than a minority even in the most heavily populated areas of Europe, but their numbers would most likely explode upon confirmation of their deity’s existence.

And if these deities did exist, what did this mean for him, and the rest of Christendom? István considered himself a Catholic man. Not a good Catholic, not in the least, but a Catholic nonetheless. The idea of other gods existing, physical gods that are oh so very real and near to one in comparison to the Holy Father... István didn’t think beyond that. It was just too terrifying in its implications to even bother ripping his hair out over, so he threw the entire mental discussion into the recesses of his mind. He’d never get a good nights sleep again if he didn’t. Ignorance is truly bliss, István noted.

“Hey István. You okay?”

Twilight’s question knocked him out of his musings. István realized he was looking down at the grass now, in a strangely contemplative manner, and that Twilight was worried over this behavior. “Yes Fräulein, I am.”

        Twilight’s relief was visible. She attempted a joke, very hurriedly and strangely nervous. “Oh, that’s good. It’d be bad to see you get ill or something, I’d only Franz to speak with then.”

        Ignoring her visible discomfort, the reasons to which István could not fathom, the Count chuckled politely. “I’m sure there are some excellent conversationalists among the men. Or the stallions,” he teased.

        “... Would there be a difference?”

        His innuendo had flown completely over her head. It was enough to cause him to roll his eyes in dismay. “No Twilight, I guess not,” he drolly stated.

        The hell if István was going to explain it. That would require an amount of effort he just did not care to expend. Wanting to change the topic now, Twilight asked something else that was bothering her. “I do wonder if the soldiers are content with how they are. You said a few days ago, if I remember right, that they only follow Ch-Franz, because they were put on the spot?”

        “Hmm, yes, it was an explanation, but not a full one.”

        “Can you explain?” Twilight pressed further.

        István nodded. “It’s simple really. What is your friend?”

        At Twilight’s blank look, István continued. “I mean what is he, in relation to the ruling class?”

        Twilight got what he meant, and grimaced. “... He’s the Kaiser’s grandson.”

        István made a pleased grunt. “Perfekt. And you think they would disobey someone so close to the throne?” He didn’t give her an option to finish for him, as he felt like venting now, “No, that’s what. Sure he put up a fine show when he introduced himself, but even if he strolled in arse naked, they’d obey him unquestioningly.”

Even as Twilight both blushed at a certain part of that sentence, and wanted to tell him off, the Count was on a rampage, finally feeling it was the time to let his grievances out. “That’s the way a command structure works. There’s no other way it would go down, yet he acts as if he’s the next Alexander. And his little show with the ponies, the hell if it was necessary. No sane officer would even think of not treating their ponies as fellow soldiers, though seeing as he’s a noble he’s a bit better than the rest of them. And let’s not discount his desire to be promoted, despite never even serving in the army. I just know he only got this position to begin with due to his lineage. Yet he acts as if this is some great accomplishment! He’s so caught up in what he imagines himself to be, he has no grasp of the present!”

        Breathing harshly as he finished, István swallowed a large gulp while looking at a stunned Twilight. “That’s my opinion, at least,” he offered conciliatory.

        Twilight had no idea what to say to that. It was such a personal attack on her friend, she couldn’t help but feel outraged at his suggestions. And yet, they were painfully close on the mark. “He’s... he’s not that bad,” she countered weakly.

        “Oh really? Tell me Twilight, has he ever left the palace?”

        “No,” Twilight told him instinctively, soon cursing herself for doing so.

        “I thought so. He’s just like the nobles he rants against, so caught up in his own little world that he has no idea one exists beyond that. Forgive me for saying this Twilight, but he is a rotten sort of apple.”

        “Shut up!” 

The sudden shout from Twilight caught them both off-guard, the mare blushing brightly at her unexpected outburst. “I know he’s kind of a flank sometimes,” Twilight explained calmly, “But I’ve known him longer then you, and I can tell you, he’s a decent person. He’s been a friend to me ever since I came here, and even when we butt heads, he’s always looking out for me, and I always look out for him. And that’s why I’m not going to sit here and listen to you berate him while he’s not around!”

The mare stared firmly at him when she finished, awaiting his response. The Count could only formulate one reply. “He’s better than I said, then.”

“Huh?” Twilight blurted out, not expecting that of all things.

“Well, if he has a friend who can defend him as fiercely as you, he’s got to be worth something. That’s a rule I learned long ago, and it’s proven right ever since then,” István explained with a somber tone.

“Oh, uh, thanks then?”

“No need for thanks,” the Count smirked again, “He’s still an ass though.”

The mare laughed deliriously at the comment. “I shouldn’t laugh at that,” Twilight giggled out.

István looked annoyingly at the main camp some distance off. “I could only imagine what’s taking him so long. The water’s a distance off sure, but God be damned...”

        “Hey, at least it gives us time to talk about the future? We’ve had a good discussion so far, might as well make the most of it,” Twilight said, optimistic as usual.

        István could agree with that in full. “True. I thank God you mares are so reasonable. Sometimes it makes me wish all women were like your type, it’d make dealings with them much easier.”

        “Our... type?” Twilight asked uneasily.

        “Yes, your type. Reasonable, not shrieking harpies and whatnot.”

        Her eyebrows rose a few inches at the misogyny therein. This was going into a place Twilight was rapidly finding disagreeable to herself. “I’m sure not all women are as you describe,” she countered.

        “So you speak. I’m just saying, mares are basically indistinguishable from colts in behavior, while for us humans the difference in sex is more than just physical, if you know what I mean,” he said salaciously.

        Twilight’s eyes narrowed a sliver. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

        Trying to find some way to elaborate well enough for her, István bit his lip. “It’s just... men are easier, more relatable, more appealing.”

        Twilight blinked. “Still not following.”

        “Well, it’s just that they are; men are simpler creatures, and... attractive, in certain aspects.”

        It was as if a bright light appeared above Twilight at that exact moment. Twilight made an ‘o’ with her mouth, finally catching on. In some way. “Oh, I get it! So you’re a homosexual then?”

        István looked as if his eyes would pop out right then and there. “Fuck!” István yelled out, actually falling back from the sudden outburst.

        The unicorn was unsure of what to make of his reaction. “Did I get it too quickly?”

        István grimaced. “You weren’t supposed to get anything at all.” he groaned out.

        Twilight blushed bright red. “Oh, sorry...”

        Grunting, István waved her concerns off. “Don’t be too bothered by it. I was careless there, divulging too much at one time. And I suppose I’ve stayed too long in the capital among my own kind, without worry for hiding my certain... preferences,” he admitted.

        “What do you mean ‘certain preferences’? Isn’t it just being,” Twilight gulped, “attracted to someone of your own sex?”

István groaned again, feeling that this was going somewhere he’d rather not. Still, the mare already knew his secret, he might as well explain to her. It’d get it off his chest as well. “What I mean is that usually, such fondness for your own sex is,” István tried to find a word that didn’t make it sound too bad, “Disliked in all major societies and religions. I could find the biblical verse that explained it, if I ever actually read the damn book.”

“Wait, wait,” Twilight interrupted in distress, “You’re saying you’re not allowed to be with certain people? To love them?”

“Officially, yes,” István said, either not getting or ignoring her distress.

Twilight’s face fell into a frown, as she nodded her head, signaling István to continue. “But in the higher circles of society, the ones I’ve frequented throughout my life, such preferences are not only allowed, but encouraged; if you could hide them well enough that is. If you’re a noble or some other high station, you can do things you disavow publicly in the comfort of your home or a ‘friends.’” István smirked.

Seeing her questioning gaze, István raised his hands up to his head. “Trust me my dear, power is everything. When you’re of a higher class like myself, you can indulge all you want. Experience things most people never dream of, and even live the life you cannot usually live due to rules and restrictions. I was lucky enough to be born in such high-standing, so that my ‘preferences’ can go either unnoticed or ignored.”

Twilight didn’t like where this was going. “So you can just ignore the rules, rules that are designed to restrict who you can be with, if you’re powerful enough?”

“You’re saying it as if it’s different where you came from.” István harshly shot back.

“It is!” Twilight yelled back.

“How? Didn’t you leave there when you were nigh more than a little filly?” István questioned.

It was true. She never really got into the politics back home, instead focusing on her studies instead. She never did anything besides her studies really, save talk with the Princess or family when the opportunity arose. The question from the Count left her silent and brooding. It made her realize how little she knew of her own home at times; she was always so focused on learning and the past, she never had time for the present. Sure she knew the history of the places, but she experienced so little of it personally. The realization left her full of regret and an even great homesickness than before.

Taking her silence as an affirmative, István nodded. “I thought so.”

“Still not right.” Twilight muttered.

István pressed his lips together, looking downward miserably. “I never said it was, did I?” he said quietly.

They were quiet after that, the awkwardness of their conversation finally reaching a boiling point. István was morose and somewhat guilty from Twilight’s words, and Twilight was equally sad from this realization. Then again, this land did have a certain moral darkness her own home did not. That is until she remembered again that it was the home she saw through rose-colored lenses and nostalgia that has ripened considerably over time.

István raised his eyes up to the stars once more, a bitter smile on his face. “How dreadful we can be at times,” István laughed mirthlessly

Taking his word for it, Twilight nodded. “This certainly turned into a big conversation,” she said, attempting to find some humor in the situation.

István laughed. “How true. Though when you have good company, one cannot stop talking or diverting the topic to more interesting things. Especially when that company is a good friend.”

Twilight’s gasp was equal parts surprise and delight. “We’re friends?” she nearly squealed.

István, though disturbed at the sheer enthusiasm of her reaction, did not visibly disapprove. “Uh... I guess? You’ve provided good conversation, did not judge me for something many would, and we get along well enough. That’s the qualifications for friendship I suppose. The question is, do you want to be friends though?”

Standing up and bouncing upward with absolute delight, Twilight clapped her hooves together joyfully. “Oh yes, yes, I do! A most glorious day this is!”

István didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed at this sudden outburst of emotion from the mare that towered above him now, or her strange way of showing it. He decided on the former. “Glad to see we’re in agreement there. Friends then?” István asked, raising his arm to her.

        It took her less then a second to respond. “Friends,” Twilight answered, putting a hoof in his hand, both of them shaking to solidify the friendship.

        Their attempts at a handshake though was very awkward, István’s hands clumsily trying to circle around her fetlocks, but it was good enough to the two. When they pulled away, they both had looked content. István was resting on his back, and Twilight on her stomach, finally enjoying some peace and quiet after such a long period of melodrama. “So it’s allowed where you are?” István asked after a few minutes.

        “What?” Twilight turned her head.

        “Being with... who you please.” István slowly let out.

        “Oh, as far as I know,” Twilight paused to collect whatever fragmented memories of home she could, “I haven’t been home in a while.”

        István nodded silently at her admission. “I understand.”

        “Thanks.”

        István noted her despondent behavior, and tried to make her happier with some light-heartedness. “I was just worried for a moment there; I thought if that was allowed, that it would be a land of countless depravities and other nice frivolities.”

        Twilight wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but her curiosity won out in the end. “Like...?”

Shrugging his shoulders, István spilled out his thoughts. “Oh, you know. Ponies and humans consorting and other such nonsense.”

“Um, actually...”

Twilight was about to speak, until a large roar was heard in the distance. The two heads turned to the source of the sound. “The hell?” was all István could say.

        That question was answered when Charles came into view, stumbling his steps slightly as he came closer to them. When he caught sight of István and Twilight sitting together, his mouth descended into a scowl. “I’d like to know István,” he said with a raised voice, “Just why we were out of water, and why you refused to tell me so.”

        Facing the angry stare of a very pissed off young man, István did the only reasonable thing. Laugh his ass off. “Why it’s easy sire,” István spoke through his mirth, “The explanation that is.”

        Even Twilight couldn’t prevent herself from laughing now, as Charles’ face started twitching rapidly, a condition resembling a sudden aneurysm or stroke. “And that explanation is...?” the prince asked venomously.

        István laughed now. “Why frankly my dear, I couldn’t give enough of a damn to tell you.”

        The explosion of red on Charles’ face was most interesting for the two to notice. It almost looked like a jar of raspberry jam exploded onto his face, or like he popped an extremely large zit. No matter the metaphor, it sent the two into further displays of laughter.

“I swear Franz, if you don’t calm down you’ll explode,” Twilight joked, earning yet another laugh from István.

        Charles ignored that jab to the best of his abilities, focusing on István instead. “You,” he pointed to the Count, before pointing directly towards the main camp, “Out. Now.”

        “But Prinz!” István whined falsely, “Ich habe viel Spaß mit dem netten Fräulein hier gehabt! Und meine Hand ist-”

        “Out, I say!” Charles bellowed, absolutely livid now.

        Pouting in a way that strangely resembled a porcelain doll’s, István stood up, preparing to leave. He bowed kindly to Twilight, who returned the gesture with a nod, and walked past Charles towards his spot. As he passed by the prince though, he raised a hand up to Charles’ nose, and before the prince could respond at all, István flicked it. “Have a nice day!” István yelled, before running straight out of there without looking back.

        Charles was left standing there in impotent rage, paralyzed with it in fact. The mare on the ground was amused though, as the sight before her was divine to watch. This caused Charles to glare furiously at her. “And just what were you and him doing together?” he asked accusingly.

        Twilight stopped her laughter, caught off guard by the strange question. “What? We were talking. He’s a pretty nice guy, and I think you’d like him too if you stopped antagonizing him,” she argued.

        Her defense of the Count did not deter Charles at all, who only got more furious as a result. “I wouldn’t have to antagonise him if he wasn’t such a royal ass!”

        “And you aren’t the same yourself at times?” was the armor-piercing question from the mare.

        That stopped Charles, who actually considered what she was saying. There was a slight pang of betrayal in his heart, though he ignored it. “I would like to believe that you think better of me than that, mein Liebchen,” he spoke softly.

        Choosing to keep a kind tone, to deal with him better, Twilight tried to reassure him. “I’m not saying you’re exactly like those types, but you can share many traits with them at times. You’re probably not even aware of them. All I’m saying, is that you can’t degrade István for faults you yourself have. He did actually serve in the Armee, and had a distinguished career from what we’ve heard, plus he’s travelled the world! Seen numerous sights! If anything you should be friends with the man.”

        Trying to open his mouth for a response, Charles found it unusually dry. His mind was left alone for a response, and so he stayed quiet and contemplative, to Twilight’s thanks.  “I don’t mean to be rude, mein Freund,” Twilight warned him, “But you really should start acting more like the responsible one in command, instead of just a man who throws orders out without a care. If you want to give a good impression to the rest of the K.u.K tomorrow, you’ll need to be reasonable.”

        Charles could almost curse his friends speeches, if they weren’t so damned impeccable. Any argument he tried to formulate died in its formation stages, and he couldn’t find any that could actually defeat her own arguments. “I’ll... I’ll think about it,” he stuttered, unwilling to concede further.

        Twilight sighed deeply. “That’s as far as I’m going to get to a ‘yes’ with you, isn’t it?”

        “If it works better to you, I’ll,” he actually had to push the words out through force of will alone, “...try to act more, how did you say it, responsibly in regards to István. Would that appease you?”

        Smiling at the fact that he was at least trying, Twilight nodded. “Yes it would.”

        Charles smiled back, though it receded when he looked at the sky at last. It was fully pitch-black now, with the only source of light being the stars above. A beautiful night, as it always seemed to be. He’d need rest, all of them would, if they’d hope to accomplish anything of import tomorrow. “Great. Now, it’s getting a tad late, so if, uh, you don’t mind Liebchen...”

        “Ah, yes, that’s right,” Twilight blubbered, standing up as she did so.

        Twilight stood there, shaking some of the excess dirt off her fur, while Charles stood across from her, looking down and up, but never directly at her. When she was done, Twilight gazed patiently at Charles. Getting no response from him, she took matters into her own, sigh, hooves. “Well?” she said questioningly.

        His eyes turned to her, wondering just what she wanted now. “Yes?”

        The unicorn looked like she would cross her forelegs in annoyance if she could. “Aren’t you going to give me a hug before I go off?”

        Charles’ face in reaction to that resembled one just smacked straight in the gob with a very large stick. “You’re kidding me.”

        She pouted, tapping her hooves impatiently against the hard ground. “C’mon, I just want a hug.”

        “Is this necessary?” his tone turned deadpan as he spoke.

        “No, it’s just nice. We haven’t hugged in a while, so I just feel like it.”

        “But-”

        “Please?” she asked sweetly.

        Charles groaned, finding no way out of this. He looked left and right, on watch for onlookers. Especially a certain Count. Finding no one there, he turned to Twilight with a dread look on his face. “Let’s get this over with.”

        Twilight flashed her eyelids at him humorously. “Oh I know you want to.”

        “No I don’t. It’s a childish gesture. Weren’t you just railing me for not being responsible enough?” he pointed out.

        “Hey, this is just between friends. It has no actual impact on your position. If I didn’t know better, I’d suggest you’re just making excuses!”

        The sarcasm in her voice did not escape him. “Do you want the damned the hug or not?” Charles demanded.

        “Yes!”

        Tentatively, he raised his arms slowly. They felt like lead blocks to him at the moment. He’d need to do the actual hugging, seeing as Twilight was too big for him to return the hug in this state. Stepping forward in slow, heavy steps, he pushed himself next to the mare, and hugged her neck. Feeling her fur against the revealed portions of his skin, he patted the small of her neck mechanically. “Good night, Twilight,” he murmured.

        She nuzzled him in a friendly manner, glad to have such a nice moment with her friend. “Good night, Charles,” she whispered back.

        When they pulled away, Twilight departed at last, leaving Charles standing there in the cold night, alone. He looked worriedly at the main camp, numerous thoughts trailing through his mind, barely any of them positive at all. Shaking his head roughly, he lied down on his makeshift bed, and slept.

---

        May 31st

        “We’re here.”

        Charles, dozing off on Twilight’s back, nearly jumped at István’s words. “What? We are?” Charles rapidly spoke.

        Almost right next to him, at the head of the collection of about one hundred cavalrymen, István shook his head. He had a different ride than the one he had last day, as he had a strange preference for switching out steeds with the other soldiers. The Count pointed towards a far-off mass. “Exactly.”

        Stretching his eyesight, Charles saw that they were there. It was a large military camp, dozens of times bigger than the one they inhabited previously. There was a cavalcade of activity in the camp that the three and the troops behind them could make out from even this distance. There were swarms of troops in formation, marching to the beat of drummer boys in front of them, some troops discussing things with each other in mixed groups of ponies and humans, and a few ponies racing each other while some of the human soldiers cheered them on and gambled against each other. It was a lively place, and just the sight of it made Charles’ heart skip a beat.

        “Well it’s been a journey, and now we’re finally here. Let’s hope it was worth it.” Charles said the last part quietly.

        Below him, Twilight was surprisingly lively. This was mostly due to the kind of mutual agreement Charles and István made with each other yesterday, to stop antagonizing one another. This was never actually spoken about between the two, but they were remarkably more cordial to each other, even if tensions were still a bit strained. It had been only a day yes, but Twilight was optimistic, as usual, and hoped this would signal some better tidings in the future. “I’m so excited! I mean I was nervous before, sure, but now I’m feeling antsy to get it on!” the mare proclaimed.

        István smiled at Twilight’s delight. “You don’t say?”

        “I do say!”

        Well, at least some traits of her stay the same, István thought. Twilight continued, unknowing that István was attempting humor. “Now that I thought about it, this will be a great time to get to learn about these sorts of things in person. Don’t you agree Franz?”

        Charles didn’t answer, his mind still fully focused on what was ahead of him and the battalion. It was only when Twilight nearly bucked him off in full view of everyone that he answered. “Ah, yes, I agree,” he replied hastily.

        István could sigh lowly at this correspondence. While Twilight was unusually cheerful, unusual regarding the circumstances, Charles was very mellow ever since he woke up. He didn’t even attempt to insult István when he woke up. Disturbed, István went along with it, if only because it seemed to please Twilight for reasons he did not want to fathom. He would’ve been worried about the boy, if he already wasn’t to begin with. The Count was assured that somehow, something would go wrong. If numerous novels, most of them bad, were anything to go by, they would encounter some horrid set of circumstances that would set them on a spiral of doom.

        Now, István liked his books, so he went by them in these cases. The problem was, what could go wrong? He remembered the messenger that sent them the orders to arrive being very hasty in delivering them and ensuring the message was read. Normally army messages were not nearly of such import, unless something big was going on. And his sources hadn’t told him anything when he left Buda. So it must have been something that happened recently, to warrant such defensive measures.

        While István brooded over possibilities, Charles worried, and Twilight tried her best to maintain a sunny disposition, they reached the headquarters of the army at last. Stopping once they reached the perimeter of the camp, Charles and István jumped of their respective steeds. “The rest of the officers will be over there I’m assuming,” István pointed to the largest tent, “Let’s go, best to make sure they don’t wait for us much longer than they already have.”

        Charles nodded. “True. Twilight, will you be fine out here?” he asked, turning to her.

        The unicorn was simultaneously annoyed and heartened by his tendency to assure her safety. “Yes, there’s no need to worry. I’m sure I’ll find some decent conversation while you two are away.”

        “If you insist. Lead the way Count.”

        István did so, walking forward on the soft ground as Charles followed him. Twilight was left standing there, the rest of the soldiers departing their own steeds, either talking with them or the other soldiers around them. There was a tendency for the ponies and humans to consort with their own kind, something Twilight found disheartening, though there were still those that endured the other species presence. Trotting around the camp, Twilight tried to find some interesting new people to talk to.

        Most of the tents in the camp looked very dirty and ramshackle, nothing too sanitary. And the further she progressed, the more the troops of both species looked rather... rough. Some of them spoke in strange languages she hadn’t heard of before. There were some Hungarian-speakers, who she could sort of understand in an abstract sense. Twilight had gained some knowledge of Hungarian from the Count in the past few days, due to the large number of Magyars in Charles’ battalion. From what she could gather though, the soldiers around her spoke in Croatian, Slovene, and some Serbian here and there. A few of them sent her curious looks due to her horn and coloring. Unicorns were a rare sight in this area it seemed, with only earth ponies being visible so far.

        Something rammed against Twilight’s side, disorienting her a bit. Looking to see, she saw a black-bearded human pushed against her, looking infuriated. Another soldier, this one with an equally-sized brown beard, came from the direction he was pushed from. “You bastard Josef, you owe me that thalar!” the incoming soldier spat.

        The black-bearded man on Twilight’s side pushed himself off her, sparing her only a dirty look as his only form of acknowledgement as he headed closer to the other soldier. “And I say Tomas, you’ll get it from my cold dead hands!” the man named Josef shouted back.

        Tomas had a nasty grin on his face at that. “Sounds good to me!” Tomas said, before barreling forward.

        He rammed right into the other man, sending them both to the ground as they tussled. Throughout this, Twilight had a very disturbed look on her muzzle, not at all used to such sudden fighting. A ring of troops of both species encircled the two on the ground now, whooping and cheering them as they went on. Twilight watched from the back, her height allowing her to see beyond the heads of the human soldiers. As the fight really heated up, the behavior of the onlookers in general disturbed Twilight greatly. While Twilight winced when Josef sent a particularly mean left hook to Tomas’ cheek, the crowd went wild with excitement. “Ah, always a good time with those two.”

        Twilight looked left to see a mustachioed man in a privates uniform, awaiting a response from her. His accent was noticeably not German, but it seemed he could speak the language all the same. “Sprichst du Deutsch?” she said with great relief.

        “Ja, ich spreche Deutsch,” the man said with a dirty smirk, “Learned it from my ma, a German herself. What I’d like to know though, is what a sweet mare like you is doing over in this dank, dark portion of the Reich?”

        Growing steadily more uneasy, Twilight answered in a slow and cautious manner. “Uh, I’m just here. With a friend.”

        “Mmm, a friend you say? It’s gotta be a good friend to force you to go here, am I right Adrijana?”

        “Right,” said another German-speaker.

        Twilight actually jumped a few inches at the emergence of another voice to her right. It was a ruddy brown mare, an earth pony, looking at the fight before her with amused eyes. “You’re a soldier here too, then, and you can speak German?” Twilight timidly asked.

        Adrijana focused on her with a predators intent, causing the unicorn to gulp down a few breaths. “Yes I am and can, Madame Obvious,” Adrijana snapped.

        “Hey hey, no need to be rude to the fine unicorn here,” the human to Twilight’s left said, sounding more amused with the situation than anything, “Forgive her Fräulein, I taught her German, but she’ll never admit to owing me in such a manner. I’m sure you’ll be simply excellent company, Fräulein...?”

        “I’d like to think I am. And it’s Twilight, Twilight Sparkle.”

        “Haha! Twilight Sparkle? I don’t know what the folks are like where you’re from, but the water must be tainted to make them give you a name like that.”

        Adrijana laughed with him, diverted from the fight for a moment. Twilight could only blush in embarrassment. My name’s not stupid, she internally sulked. Externally though, she came up with a witty riposte. “I’m not sure you exactly have a right to judge my name, when I don’t even know yours.”

        The soldier stopped, though he was still very bemused by the whole situation. “Herr Nikola, at your service. As you can see, I wouldn’t call my name laughable, unless you wish to see the front-side of a musket,” he answered with a wicked laugh.

        Twilight began to laugh nervously at that, even as Adrijana laughed with honest intent. “Ha, that’s a joke... right?”

        Nikola slapped her backside, nearly causing her to jump again. “I like you Sparkle! I can tell we’ll have much fun together. Who knows, maybe you and Adrijana can-”

        “Suggest another one of your sick fetishes again, and I see how far my hoof can push against certain segments of your body,” Adrijana cut in threateningly.

        “Shutting up.”

        By this point, Twilight was doing a very good impersonation of a tortoise. “I’m really liking where this is going.” Twilight couldn’t sound more false if she tried. “But I’m afraid I have to leave now.”

        The human and the earth pony set their sights on her before she could even finish. “Oh no, you mustn't! After all, we need to show you life amongst us grunts!”

        “No, you really don’t need too. I mean, I’m sure you and your Serbian friend-”

        “I’m Slovene,” Adrijana seethed with murderous intent.

        “Right, same thing,” Twilight continued, ignorant of the rapidly growing murderous intentions from the other mare, “I’d really like to leave though, and I’m sure you two can go along without me.”

        Sending a warning look to Adrijana before speaking, Nikola gave Twilight a gambler’s smile, and used a silver-tongue to match. “Bah, Adrijana’s the only pony here worth talking to. All the rest are either too dumb, or too sheltered to care for the type of talks I like. You though, you’re new. And I like new.”

        “Well, I don’t want to be rude-”

        “Then stay! Adrijana would enjoy another fine mare’s company, I’m sure, right Adri?” he asked with a sickeningly sweet tone.

        “Fuck yourself with a bayonet.”

        Nikola handled that with a great big smile. “See? She’d love to have you here!”

        Twilight was conflicted now, looking down unsteadily at her hooves. “Well, I guess I can stay for a while. It’s not like I’ve got much else to do...”

        “Oh yay!” Nikola wrapped an arm around Twilight’s neck without warning, drawing her in close, “You and me? We’re gonna have fun! Where to start talking? Should we discuss slaughtering techniques? Sexual positions? Death rays?”

        His rapid spree of questions almost made Twilight’s eyes spin. “Wait, what was that last one?”

        “Nothing Fräulein, nothing. Actually, let’s wait for the fight to end, I’m sure-”

        Crack. That sound signalled the end of said fight, as Tomas kicked Josef square in the rib, sending the other fighter down for the count. “Damn, I missed it!” Adrijana grumbled.

        “Only more reason to enjoy our new company dear Adri,” Nikola explained.

        The earth pony looked dangerously at Twilight. “Hmm, I guess you’re right Nikki. Let’s have some fun.”

        Twilight gulped. This would be painful.

---

        “And then this pony said, ‘Polenta? Are you crazy?’ and jumps into the air so high, you’d think she was a pegasus. I had no idea what that even was, or how she did this, but when she landed the gypsy just gave me a bagful of chocolate and left. True story.”

        “... What? You just said that without any context,” Charles replied.

        István thought about that, and shrugged. “Yes, it was a fun story though. Let’s start it again! I was in Oltenia, and this mob of gypsies attacked me without warning when suddenly, bees-”

        “Count, as much as I would simply love to hear more from you,” Charles said through gritted teeth, “We’ve arrived.”

        István looked up to see that, yes, they had arrived at the headquarters for the camp. The green tent certainly was larger in person than from a distance, and you could see it was of higher quality than the other tents and makeshift beds around them as well. “Huh, we have. Would the Prinz like the honor of going first?” István offered.

        Charles honestly couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or not, and didn’t bother to ask. “Whatever. So long as this ends as quickly as possible. I’m worried about Twilight in this place.”

        “Oh God Prinz Franz, you sound like her mother. I’m sure she’ll be fine here, with such brisk and sterling examples of soldierly fortitude around her,” István reasoned.

        “You’re not helping.”

        “I didn’t say I was trying to,” the Count countered.

        His blood boiling, Charles rushed into the tent, nearly knocking into a finely dressed officer on the other side of the flaps. “Sorry,” Charles apologized.

The officer, a tall, lean man with a blond mustache, glared at him. “Watch out whelp, we’re discussing important things in here,” the man insulted, his German accent especially thick in comparison to the other two’s.

“Why, that’s exactly why we’re here sire,” István came in from behind, “This here is Prinz Franz von Österreich, and I am Count István Széchenyi de Sárvár-Felsővidék, István for short. You would be the commander of this Corps, the Prinz of Wasa, Gustav?”

“Ah yes, the Magyar,” Gustav said distastefully, “Yes, I’ve heard word of your coming. Well, sit with the rest of the officers than, we shall explain the situation shortly. Is that okay with you, Prinz Franz?”

Charles was silent though, as he was, quite frankly, stunned that István was actually trying to defend him in some manner. The elbow to his side knocked him out of that though. “Yes, yes it is.”

Gustav glared at him for a moment longer, before departing to the back of the tent. István leaned over to Charles. “I’m going to find you much more agreeable if that is our General,” he whispered.

“Generalmajor, actually,” Charles replied, taking note of the emblems on his uniform, “The feeling is mutual though.”

In a bond formed out of mutual annoyance towards someone else, the best type of bond, István and Charles shook hands before moving. The rest of the tent had a plethora of officers standing in a half-circle in front of a large wooden table, covered with things they couldn’t make out save for an open bottle of what István assumed to be vodka, at the end of the tent. There, Gustav and a few of the other high-ranking officers were behind the table, looking all stiff and proper for their station. Charles and István moved forward to edge through the horde of officers there, staying close to one another at the same time to discuss things easier. They wanted to hear this information to the best of their abilities.

Charles muttered a few apologies to some persons toes he stepped on, István did the same not long after. It was dreadfully crowded, yet already the content inside the tent proved worthwhile to the two. There was a lot of murmuring and miscellaneous chat among the other officers there, some of which the two actually picked up on. And it proved most interesting for the inquisitive prince and count.

“I hear the Ottomans are-”

“Full scale rebellion down in-”

“The Russians will capitalize on this-”

“Bosnia ripe for the taking-”

Only scattered fragments of the final solution, yet it sparked Charles’ curiosity even more so. Something was going down in the Balkans, that was for sure. What he needed to know though, was what the Reich was going to do about it. “Silence!” Gustav bellowed out.

Everyone hushed down after that, a few glares from those up front doing what words could not. When it was finally completely silent, Gustav coughed into his hand. “Good, good. Now that everyone is finally here,” he looked at Charles and István as he said this, “We can get started.”

Gustav’s fingers trailed down to the table, grasping a rod-like object on it. When they realized exactly what it was, István and Charles tried hard not to gasp. It was a riding crop, a pitch-black one. Some of the other officers murmured uneasily as well. The implications of just why the man had such an object were disturbing, disturbing enough to provoke such dissent. But when Gustav banged the crop harshly against the table, they quieted. Satisfied, Gustav continued with his presentation. The Major General trailed the crop against the fabric of the large pile of maps in front of him, the top one to be precise, which the two could now see was one of the Balkans in general.

 The Prince of Wasa was tracing circles around one very specific area.  The border between the Bosnian portion of the Ottoman Empire, and the Austro-Croatian border.

Gustav began speaking, not stopping his movement as he did so. “As you all know, the foul Mohammedans of the Sublime Porte, are one of the greatest threats to our glorious Reich. For centuries, our lands have been contested, with the Kaistertum always standing strong against the heathen hordes. In these past few years though, their power has deteriorated. The iron hand that rests in stolen Constantinople has slackened in its grip, and the good Christians within the foul Turkish domain have started to rise up in open rebellion. Specifically, in Greece.”

The officers rose up again in discussion, tearing apart this information and how it would affect them. Charles and István were both surprised to hear this news. As far as they knew, the Ottoman’s were a relatively stable state, albeit one heavily bloodied within the past few years. “Looks like the damned Turks aren’t as strong as we thought,” István noted.

“Interesting. Though his vernacular was unappealing to me,” Charles complained.

István grunted noisily. “What, do you actually support the Muslim's in this?”

Charles didn’t get to answer him, because Gustav smacked his crop against the table again, harder this time, producing a large sound that deafened the ears of those who heard it. “Quiet!” he ordered.

They did so.

“Sehr gut. Now, as I was saying, the good Christians of Greece, who despite their misguided Orthodox status, are good Christians still, are waging an open war against the Sultan and his Janissaries. Tensions are running high throughout all of Europe as a result, as the Ottomans are trying their damnedest to push down the Greeks, while the Greeks themselves are trying to gain international support. At the rate our intelligence says this is going, the French, British, and Russians will send support in not too long. Meanwhile, our forces have been on high-alert ever since this crisis began.”

Gustav motioned to everyone there, noting their posture and if they looked right or not. Satisfied, he continued. “The whole of the militärgrenze is ready for war at any moment, though God-willing there won’t be. Even if the Turks are distracted by internal dissent, they keep a sizable force in Bosnia-Herzegovina. That is where we shall come in.”

Moving his crop around haphazardly, Gustav accidentally smacked the open bottle on the table, knocking it over. A large amount of the bottle’s content, which smelled most definitely like alcohol. István made a self-satisfied smirk when he correctly guessed that it was indeed vodka. Many of the men in the audience began to laugh at the faux pas, until Gustav bared his teeth at them. “As I was about to say,” Gustav growled, smacking the bottle away, “This is where we shall come in. Right on the border in fact.”

If their were any ponies in the audience, their ears would have perked up at this news. However, there was no physical sign of renewed interest from the officers, already familiar with Gustav’s reaction to such displays by now. In the current pause, Gustav messily wiped off the spilt drink with a piece of cloth pulled out of his coat, which smudged up the lines of that map and the ones beneath it. Charles could have smacked his own face if he was able to, and István, well, he would have just laughed his ass off.

Muttering some unknown words to himself as he finished, Gustav focused back on the officers. “Now, you all wish to know what I mean by this, correct?” at their collective nods, he continued, “I mean that we shall be performing some standard maneuvers directly at the border.”

You could hear a pin drop, so thick was the silence that followed that. One thought rose to mind among everyone there. Is this man daft? To them, it was insane, risky, and needlessly aggressive. Well, one person thought differently. Yes, yes, yes! Charles could almost shout to the heavens with how glad he was, that they were doing something so triumphant and risky. Even with his current worries, the thought of such maneuvers made his mouth wet. “Yes, at the border with the Ottomans,” Gustav elaborated.

“While their power in the Balkans has not deteriorated that much, now is the time for the Kaisertum Österreich to show its power, and to tell the rest of the world we are a force to be reckoned with. We shall head out by the morrow. Until then, I expect you all to prepare yourselves for the coming challenges. Dismissed.”

With that, everyone began to file out. Charles and István were in the middle of the line out; it provided an ample time to talk about what they had just heard. “So the Turks are falling apart at the seams. I suppose it was only a matter of time,” István said, with no small amount of triumph.

“I wouldn’t say it’s the end of the line for the Ottomans yet,” Charles responded, “Gustav himself said they still had a sizable force in Bosnia. And with tensions as high as he says they are, this might even escalate into a full-blown war.”

There was an almost hopeful tone to Charles’ voice. István darted his eyes at him, lips pursed in disapproval. “You almost sound like you want there to be a war,” the Count noted.

They went away from the rest of the officers now, departing towards a small corner of the camp where nobody could hear them. “I am only saying that, with the right provocation, war might be an inevitability. And what can be more provocative than sending an army right at the border between two nations? It’s the perfect casus belli if there ever was one.”

The disapproval on István’s face only grew at that. “Knowing Latin doesn’t mean you know war Prinz Franz. Let me tell you, if you ever fought in actual battle, as I have, you would not be nearly as kind towards the idea.”

“We shall see Count. If all goes as planned, we will not even have to worry about war. We’ll march up to the border, strut our stuff, and leave. Plain and simple.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worried. It’s the simple stuff that always goes wrong. Now, if we were planning an international ball on the border, why, that would throw the Ottomans right off for sure.”

Charles could only find one thing to say to that. “You’re not funny.”

“And you are?” István queried, genuinely curious.

So it was a challenge now. Charles could go along with that. “Yes, and I’ll show you why. Let me start; A friend asked me if I got a hair cut from a barber.”

One could almost carve a marble statue from the stone look on István’s face. “Go on.”

Barely unable to not laugh at his joke, Charles answered. “I told him, ‘No, I got many hairs cut.’”

The look on István’s face was enough to tell Charles he won. “Ha, ready to admit it then?” Charles smugly asked.

“... I think I actually lost the ability to laugh. You are terrible in every sense of the word.” István deadpanned.

Leaving Charles dumbfounded, István walked off. It took only a few moments for the prince to collect himself, and catch up to the count, walking with him at his side. “You just have no sense of good humor.” Charles insulted.

“Riiiiiiiiiiiight,” István said unconvincingly.

“It’s true, you know.”

“Whatever you say. But how about we stop this idiocy for a moment, and try and find Fräulein Sparkle, okay?”

Charles could have slapped himself right there. He had accidentally forgotten about Twilight! Trying his best to keep a crimson blush down, he nodded his assent. István was just glad to have him in agreement. “Good. Now where oh where is our little mare...”

Charles blinked in befuddlement. “Were you... were you rhyming?” he said incredulously.

“Was I? I don’t know honestly,” István replied.

The prince sighed loudly. “Let’s just continue. I’m sure Twilight isn’t dealing with anything half as bad as this...”

---

        “And that is how you insert a spike directly up someones-”

        “Balls!” Nikola hissed out, clutching his right foot suddenly.

        Diverting her attentions from a now pale-faced Twilight, Adrijana looked to see her friend in obvious pain. “What is it now?” the earth pony asked.

        Nikola pulled his boot off, and held it away from himself, giving it the dirtiest look imaginable. “Damned things got a stick or something in it. Nearly tore my foot right open.”

        “Oh lovely. Now if you’ll stop your bitching, I was just about to tell the young mare here the qualifications for drills and holes in certain-”

        She was stopped when two new arrivals came to the scene, causing Twilight to breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of them. “Sorry you two, it seems I’ve got to be off now,” Twilight said not very apologetically.

        The unicorn ran off without waiting for a response, leaving the other two there. Rushing up to István and Charles, she kept trotting forward even when she came to them. “Let’s keep going, and not look back. Shall we?” Twilight called back to them.

        The mare continued without a response. Charles and István looked at each other, before shrugging jointly and moving ahead with her. When they moved a safe distance away from her last encounter, Twilight breathed out another sigh. “Danke you two. I was starting to get uncomfortable there,” she admitted.

        István grinned. “Uncomfortable seems to be an understatement in regards to what we saw.”

        “Agreed,” Charles added.

        Despite their desertions, Twilight could tell they meant well, and smiled back at them. They were getting along well too, which was an added bonus. “Well nonetheless, it’s still good to see you two,” Twilight’s face turned serious, as she began to change the topic, “So what’s going on then? Are we heading out to somewhere, or staying at this camp for a while?”

        “The former,” Charles answered.

        István nodded. “Quite. According to the Generalmajor, our brigade will head straight out to the border between our nation and the Ottoman Empire’s. If all goes well, we’ll just march for a while, stare dirtily over the border, and leave without any major incidents,” the Count explained.

        The cross look on Twilight’s face told them both what she thought of that. “Are you serious? That sounds incredibly risky to me, and for no reason at that! Just why would the army do this risky and pointless move, when there is nothing to gain from it?” she questioned.

Charles and István shared a look, one that could be best described as ‘This is going to take a while, isn’t it?’ And that would not be a far off assumption. When the two broke eye contact, István coughed loudly into his right hand. “You see Twilight, it’s a matter of pride. We must show ourselves to be the superior force, and by deliberately setting ourselves so close to their borders, we shall show how little we fear the sick man of Europe.”

Twilight stared unbelievingly at the Count. “That still doesn’t make any sense. There’s no reason to provoke them so, and how do you think they’ll react? That they’ll just sit there, do nothing, and let us tramp around and march in front of them? It’s madness, that’s what it is.”

Despite feeling a cold chill down his spine at her argument, István stood firm. “It is not madness. It is power, the projection of power. For centuries our lands have been in conflict, and with their power on the decline, it is only natural we assert our superiority. What better reason could we have?”

“Actual gain to be had by doing this, that’s what,” Twilight argued, “This projection of power you speak of seems like it would cause nothing but added belligerence to this nation. Why not invest our efforts into something more productive, like helping the people, building homes, actual efforts towards peace, instead of this idiocy!”

The two humans nearly flinched as Twilight’s voice grew in intensity the more she went on, until she was booming throughout the camp. Numerous soldiers were looking at them strangely now, and the two were desperate not to cause a scene and get their hinds whipped. “Twilight, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer moving this conversation elsewhere,” Charles implored.

Realizing now the great amount of eyes that were watching her, many of them with hostile intent, Twilight agreed in little time. “Sounds fine. Lead the way.”

The humans nodded before walking off, Twilight right behind them. The party of three strolled out of the perimeter of the camp, and found themselves on some verdant plains. Best of all, they were private, offering them an excellent time to continue this. “As I was saying,” Twilight grumbled, “This is stupid. I’ve given my reasons. I’d like some good ones of your own as to the contrary.”

        Twilight’s stare towards István was very harsh in its severity. Normally the Count would shrug off the very notion of the lavender-coated mare even being considered threatening, yet right now such assertions were proved wrong. There was a huge need to be careful with her. There were some bad stories about unicorns he had heard, about usage of their horns in less civilized times and places. And as much as he knew Twilight wouldn’t dare do such barbaric acts upon him, the fear was there all the same.

        “My point is,” István began, “Charles will explain it.”

        Twilight and Charles blinked in unison. “What?”

        The question came from both of them at once, disturbing and amusing István greatly. “Exactly. The boy here loves the idea, so I’m sure he has a good explanation.”

        Charles didn’t want to murder the Count at this moment. No, he had built up too much goodwill towards the Count today to have earned such ire from him. Charles just wanted to break his fingers. One at a time. The guilty face István wore told Charles he knew it all too well, and he even mouthed an apology as he backed off some distance away. Twilight’s cross look then proceeded to switch from the Count to himself, only slightly lessened in severity. “Well Charles. I’d like a decent explanation,” the unicorn demanded.

        Trying to gather his wits together, Charles offered his best response. “It’s an opportunity,” was all he said.

        That wasn’t the answer either István or Twilight expected. “That’s not an answer, at all,” Twilight commented.

        “Let me finish,” he chastised. “As I said, it’s an opportunity. An opportunity for me to prove my worth to mein O- the Kaiser, and to hopefully start myself an actual career in the military. Belligerence be damned, we stand on the precipice of a huge chance here Twilight! If we go ahead with this, it’ll be the first step on a huge path for us. I can feel it, my every instinct tells me so, and I know you can feel the same. A great leap forward is ahead for us if we do this Twilight, and I am assured it shall only turn out for the best of us. And besides, as the Count and the Generalmajor stated, it is a simple march. Nothing more. We’re not engaging the Turks or anything, we’re not going over the border guns blazing. No, just a march.”

        Charles breathed deeply as he finished, out of breath from the long speech. István muttered some thankful prayers that the prince actually came up with something. Twilight looked mildly rebuked. “So you’re doing this just for yourself?” she accused, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

        His eyes widened at the accusation. “It’s not that-”

        Twilight stomped a hoof loudly against the grass, cutting him off. “You basically said it was! Don’t deny it!”

        “I am not, you’re the one saying it, not me!” Charles barked back.

They stopped momentarily after that, preferring to just stew then throw the same basic words at one another. They still glared at one another fiercely, either one ready to continue this argument in any number of ways. Feeling very awkward in this situation, István raised a hand. “Children, please! If you don’t mind, I’d like you two-”

The Count found himself with two pairs of eyes, one lavender and one brown, focused on him intently. “We do mind!” the prince and unicorn shouted.

Now they were going too far over the line for the Count. Gathering his voice, István clenched his fists, and crossed his arms. “I don’t care,” István said authoritatively, “What I do care about is this fighting. As Twilight is trying to argue for her own point, it’s completely needless and unneeded. No matter what we’re discussing or how this turns out, we’re still going to do it anyway. We can’t just change the decision made by our superiors just by our talk alone. So I say we stop this idiocy, and talk like civilized beings, before we get a good nights sleep in preparation for tomorrow. Alright?”

Twilight and Charles were silent, glaring at one another and István still, not at all convinced. “ALRIGHT?!” István shouted with a mighty breath.

The prince and pony were nearly knocked over by the unexpected burst of loudness from the normally calm count.

“Alright, we’ll stop!”

“My ears are bleeding...”

That was enough for István, who nodded happily in response. “Good. Now that we’ve wasted our time completely through this incessant chattering.” He put a special amount of anger into his voice. “Let us get back to camp. It’s getting late anyway, and I’m sure we’ll need to prepare you both and the troops for tomorrow. Are we clear?”

The two did not answer again, instead looking down and grumbling lowly. István rolled his eyes. Kids, he complained internally. “ARE WE-”

“We’re clear, we’re clear!” the two couldn’t answer him fast enough.

The Count left without saying anything else once he finished, strolling off while whistling a merry tune to himself. It was such a surreal site to see after his great outbursts, that Charles seriously considered the possibility of him being on some sort of mind-altering substance. Twilight though, found it a rather pleasing melody. “So,” was all Charles said.

“So.”

Staring at their feet/hooves again, the awkwardness in the atmosphere was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Twilight was the first to end this angst-filled debacle, raising her head and speaking just before Charles did the same. “Are you as worried as I am for tomorrow?” she almost-whispered, so quiet was she.

“Very worried.”

Charles was grim-faced, expecting such a response. “I don’t know what to tell you then. The best I could say is to ‘hope for the best.’ Yet such words are empty in their promises.”

“You aren’t as excited for this as you seem then?” Twilight caught on.

He considered this, and thought about his own feelings on the matter before responding. As much as he loved the idea of such actual practice, a daring move that might even provoke war, the worry in him was intense. The primal, innate part of his brain screamed to not get into such danger, and the cowards part of him agreed. And the coward in him was great, a product of years of lazy behavior and stuffed-up living. Yet the part that contested this, he liked more, the part that aspired to be something greater. Something greater than... himself.

“I’m not I suppose,” he finally answered, “But I still will go ahead with it. My name would be permanently besmirched if I refused to go on a simple mission like this, and I refuse the very notion of such a possibility. I want to go, yes. But I’m not afraid of admitting I’m scared. Scared to death of all the numerous things that could go wrong. For me, and for you.”

Charles waited patiently for her response, the mare’s taking a decidedly neutral look as she absorbed his words. Was she scared to go, more scared than I imagined? Charles wondered. “If you don’t want to go tomorrow, I’m sure we could arrange transportation back to Wien.” he remarked, acting on his assertions.

“Not at all,” Twilight answered, with no hesitation.

“I’m serious, if you wish to leave, I won’t stop you.”

Twilight put on her best indignant look. “Stop it Charles; I wouldn't have come all this way from Wien just to go back when given the chance, if I didn’t want to stay with you. So stop asking me, you won’t get me to leave.”

His mouth set into a thin line, as he groaned to himself. Her stubbornness was firm, even by his standards. “Are you sure?” he asked one last time.

“Are you?”

Charles smiled. “Excellent answer. Let’s get back to the Count, he’s right you know. We’ll need all the rest we can for the morrow.”

The mare nodded. “Exactly.”

        Walking together, right in the middle the twilight of the afternoon sky, they had a renewed firmness in their steps. Their fear was not lessened at all, but their resolve was only strengthened. Whatever would come to them, they would take it in stride. For after all, they had a stable pillar of support to fall on, whenever needed.

---

        18th Dhu ‘l-Qa’da, 1243, a small town on the Austro-Ottoman border.

        “How do you think the rebellion down south is going?”

        Edin stood up stiffly when his comrades words woke him up. They were at a small, wooden fortress some distance from town, far from their home city of Sarajevo. “What?”

        Alija looked disapprovingly at his friend. “The Greek rebellion of course!”

The Bosniak soldier was obviously confused by this. “Huh?”

“You’re an idiot,” Alija insulted, “Since you obviously weren’t listening, I’ll explain for you. I hear the Greeks have nearly cleared out the Peloponnese, and before we know it, they might even advance on Athens itself.”

Edin stared unbelieving at him. “That can’t be true! From what I’ve heard, we’ve all but extinguished the rebels from the Peloponnese.”

“Oh true, just like how the Navy won at Navarino,” Alija sarcastically declared, “And at this rate, it won’t be long until the French or the Russians send actual forces to fight us. The only way this could get worse is if the Austrians marched right over the border.”

Edin laughed at such a preposterous notion. “As if. The Germans are too cautious to upset the balance of power too much, especially when the Russians have such vested interest in Greek independence themselves. Interests that run against those of their western neighbors. Brothers in Christendom my ass. But I’d be more worried myself if I was stationed in Georgia or Dobrogea, honestly.”

The idea was dreadful to the two soldiers, and not an unrealistic one at that. The image of Russian hordes marching through Trabzond and Bulgaria, all the way to the gates of holy Kostaniyye itself, and slaughtering all followers of God who did not follow their own false ideal faith. Lately, it was a terrifying prospect for all soldiers in the Porte’s army. “Even if we encountered an actual large force, I’d doubt we’d have any effective way of holding this redoubt. We’re not one of those fancy new units the Sultan commissioned,” Alija complained.

        Ever since the forced destruction of the formerly auspicious Janissary Corps by Sultan Mahmud II two years ago, the Sultan had tried his damnedest to reform the Ottoman army as his father before him did. The Asâkir-i Mansûre-i Muhammediye was the new name for the armed forces, and modernisation was proceeding at a slow yet desperate pace. Most officers and soldiers knew they needed this rapid advancement, or else the other power of Europe and Asia would kick the cane out under the sick man of Europe. But only some parts of the army were deemed the necessary supplies to modernise at a reasonable pace. And right now, that went mainly to the forces fighting the Greeks down south. Not some measly border guards that stared angrily at the Croats across the line when possible.

        Their discussion was muted when marching was heard some distance away. It grew louder and louder the more time went on, until it sounded as if it was almost at their position. “What is that?” Edin worriedly asked.

        Alija looked over the banister of the fort, trying to find the source of the noise in the rough and hilly terrain in front of him. When he saw the outlines of bodies, human and equine, on the horizon, Alija’s eyes widened to the size of plates. “Call over the commander!” he told Edin.

        Edin was breathing heavily, a terrible chill spreading throughout his body. “What should I say?” he whimpered.

        “That the Germans have come, in force. And we must respond in turn.”

---

        June 1st

        The sound of marching footsteps and beating drums rang throughout the scene. Around four thousand men, not counting the few hundred or so ponies, were marching in unison through the hilly area around them. Each battalion in the brigade were away from the others by about a dozen meters as they marched towards the same general direction, what was assumed to be the official border between the two empires. Charles’ own battalion was on the left of center of the force, almost directly up front.

Leading the way of said battalion was the prince himself, on Twilight’s backside, directing the cavalry with István’s lingual assistance to the non-German speakers. His battalion had grown to a staggering number for Charles, at five hundred men now, reinforced from the rest of the army. According to Gustav, who demanded the increase, it was to present a more balanced force, and it made enough sense. It was still terrifying prospect to Charles though, commanding even more men and ponies when he already was troubled with the number he had before.

        Beyond the two hundred or so infantrymen now in the once solely cavalry battalion, his own battalion still comprised of most of the brigade’s cavalry force. The ratio of infantry to cavalry was thus an equal ratio, a strange but not an altogether unlikely occurrence in the armed forces. The air was calm and cool, with the burning sun blazing down upon them with a tremendous force. No one complained, verbally at least, but the sweat pouring down most of the soldiers faces was proof enough of their discomfort. The prince himself was not excluded from this, looking very stuffed up in his black uniform, which made his heart problems worse. His lungs burnt harder with usage then usual, and he could feel a slight fuzziness to the edge of his vision.

        Twilight was thankfully okay, exerting only a mild annoyance at the heat, while ignorant of her friends discomfort. István was as calm as he usually was, exhibiting an authoritarian stance upon his own steed, a different one than the one he rode yesterday, as he was wont to switch them out for some reason. Beyond those three though, the rest of Charles’ troops were relatively content, eager to get this over with as soon as possible.

        István moved his steed next to Twilight, the count looking at Charles and Twilight oddly. “Did you speak with General Gustav? He’s been looking over his map for hours now while me march, and he doesn’t look like he's got a damned idea of where he’s going.” István complained.

        “Generalmajor,” Charles snidely corrected,” But yes, it does seem like that. I’d wonder if he’s even gotten rid of that map he spilled vodka on yesterday.”

        “Ha, I’d believe that,” István said jokingly.

        The two digested what Charles said, as a worried look crossed both of their faces. István said what was on both of their minds first. “You don’t think...?”

        Twilight craned her head back, interested now. “What are you two talking about?”

        Charles cleared his throat with a large cough before answering her. “Nothing. We were just entertaining the idea of his map being smudged by his own incompetence, and as a result it would send us very far off from where we’re supposed to go. But no, that’d be ridiculous.”

        Twilight grimaced. “I’m not sure about that. Marching aside, it seems too quiet. Like the calm before the storm, as it were.”

Not a second after Twilight said that, something amiss came up on the next hill over. A few dozen or so figures, all human by their outlines, rising up to meet them. They could not have been more than a couple of dozen meters away. István strained his eyes to see who they were. “What in the hell...”

That was when they all caught the glint from the hill. At that exact moment, a large, thunderous blast tore through the air. A few seconds later, a horrendous explosion hit the center of the brigade, striking the lines of infantrymen with a tremendous force. The explosion ripped through the men, sending blood and limbs asunder. Some died on impact, though most would be consigned to bleeding out, forgotten in the chaos before them.

A barrage of gunfire followed right behind the cannon, sending bullets screaming through the air. Dozens of soldiers of the formation fell instantly, bullets piercing skin and fur. It was like dominoes in action, though far more terrifying, with riders falling slack on their steeds, ponies collapsing and sending their riders down with them, and slow, agonizing deaths all around.

More than a few narrowly missed Twilight, the mare gasping when a few brushed against the edges of her fur. Chaos reigned on the field, as screams of confusion and horror boomed out from nearly all the soldiers. What was going on, what should they do? A few pulled out their rifles and fired back at the unknown attackers, yet none hit, distance and terror playing hell on their aim. The chaos only grew worse when their commanders could not even respond properly, due to being equally stunned, trying to make sense of this madness. All their plans had just been torn asunder in a single space of time.

Far away from Charles and Twilight, at the direct impact site of the cannons blast, the head officers of the army lay bleeding and strewn about. Gustav, Prince of Wasa, lay on his back, his right arm only connected to the rest of his body by a single sliver of skin, the bone already having been obliterated. His wrinkled face was covered in rivulets of blood, and his eyes rolled back into his head, death coming slow and agonizingly for the commander of this force.

Numerous Imperial troops ran on impact, though most stood firm due to their training, still shaken. Charles pulled back on Twilight’s reins to avoid some of the shots, cursing loudly. This had gotten out of hand far too quickly, and he had no idea of what he needed to do. “Shit, Count, it’s an ambush! What do we do?”

        When he got no response, Charles turned and was aghast. For right next to him, István was clutching his breast, blood pouring from the crevices in his hand. A cold feeling filled Charles at the sight. “C-c-count?” Charles stuttered out.

        István looked up to stare at Charles with emotionless eyes, before falling right off his steed, onto the grass below.

---

        A/N-Wow, this feels like I’m giving you, the reader, a kick in the balls. Beyond that painful cliffhanger, I hope you enjoyed this chapter; as usual, thanks to the people who deserve thanks, and do tell any complaints. I haven’t been getting much in the way of constructive criticism itself, save my numerous spelling mistakes, which I am grateful to receive help on, but I would enjoy comments on the flow and structure of the story as well. After an excellent review I received from a user on /r/mylittlefanfic, right here, I’ve realized there are more problems with this story than I’d like to admit. So feel free to comment in the comment section on EqD, or on deviantArt. I’m open to any, and all criticism.

        Ignoring my neurotic plea for help there, I’d like to say it is an absolute bitch finding info on the Austrian and Ottoman  armies in this period. It’s absolutely pitiful how little info there is on Wiki and other such sites. And the amount of books on the topic, outside WWI and the Napoleonic Wars, is equally low. I tried to stay as historical and consistent as possible though, but if you see any discrepancies, do note them.

        And finally, thanks as usual for reading, whether you enjoyed it for real, or for the innate hilarity in a story about my little ponies in 19th century Europe that takes itself waaaaaaaaaaay too seriously. Either way, you do me a service with your views. Until next time, ciao!

        P.S-Holy shit! Someone made fan art of this fic! I’m both astonished, and amazed! Yes, right here in fact. Big thanks to Sovwi, who made the art, it’s absolutely amazing in every way. Dear god, I never thought I would get fan art for this shit. I mean I was was hoping due to my huge narcissism, sure, but actual art? Never expected it! JUST LOOK AT IT!:

        Whatever artistic complaints someone can have towards this, mainly regardishall be utterly ignored by me, BECAUSE HOLY SHIT I HAVE FANARTARRRRRRRRROA IEJHF’WOIAhvn’;owsjhoih;oihwae;ofhaw;eofihw;ofihawoihw;;wioeh;oiwhwa[0oihj4[8ihturh4hyp9w48hy498y0y3tytythp98eghypr8eihvno;aIHDNV;Oiwhve;’oiWEHGF’OihF:OIWVEHno;wiHBAoIUgh”OIEFH”OIHG”owih’oeh’oh

If you can’t tell, I’m so happy right now! Thanks a bunch Sovwi for this, this has just made... all of my days.

 Any Aqua Teen Hunger Force references are completely unintentional. For srs.

 The amount of info on the Austrian army at this time was absolutely pitiful, and this was one of the few names I got from my searches.

 All credit for that joke goes to MONSTERheart.

 The naval battle between the Ottoman Navy and a joint Russo-British-France force, resulting in a complete Ottoman defeat.

 The official name of Constantinople/Istanbul for the Turks at this timel.

 ‘The Victorious Soldiers of Muhammed.’