IX. Gathering Storm

LUNA

Luna watched the Royal Guard out on the parade ground as they paired off to spar. They were so small, she thought idly. So far away and so small out there. Even Spike, lumbering with the awkward gait of the adolescent, seemed small from this vantage.

It was an odd moment, and she was aware of its strangeness. Time had not moved on entirely, not really. The sparring of ponies now was the same as those before her great rebellion. Once again, a knight in her service was learning how to swing a sword. Yes, this time it was with claws and not with magic, but the principle was the same as in the old days.

Though Celestia was not here for her to talk with. That was new. She looked almost by instinct to the emptiness at her side, but found it not quite as empty as it felt. Her aide watched the field as well, quiet as she did.

Her isolated reverie broken, she regarded Page Turner. His brow was furrowed like a foal at work at some puzzle.

“You seem concerned,” she said lightly.

He started. “Princess?”

“You seem concerned. A… bit for your thoughts? That is the saying, true?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’d be it. I was just thinking about your new retainer.”

“Spike?” she asked and looked back to the field where the soldiers played at war.

“Yes,” he answered, and she imagined that he nodded. “I was wondering if I might share some of my observations with you and if I could know if I am right.”

She smiled. “So a game of guesses? We did the same when the world was younger.”

He coughed. “I guess. I wouldn’t presume to intrude on your plans and counsels without permission, your Highness, but it seems to me that you have something specific in mind for Spike.” She nodded, waiting for him to go on. “You have him training with the Royal Guard.”

“Yes. A bit plain, so far, Page Turner.”

“Well, yes, but… ahem.” She smiled at his flustered tone. “I’m not done yet! You haven’t let him interact in that way with any of the House Levies, not even from the Houses Major that support the throne wholeheartedly.”

Luna hummed an ancient tune whose name she’d quite forgotten. Below, Spike faced off with his partnered pegasus. His clawed hands curled around a sword made by unicorns in the forges within the mountain, and she had inspected it herself, felt the steel on her coat and reveled in how her hackles rose. Part of her still thought of her old nomadic life, fighting monsters. Or later, defending borders.

“That’s true. A much better observation than your last,” she said with a wider smile. “Continue.”

He did so while she laughed at Spike’s amateurish style. His sword danced like a drunken Earth pony at harvest: too slow, the arcs too wide, stumbling.

He was emboldened--Page, not her newest Champion, who seemed a bit frustrated--and continued. “Well, one must start with the basics to provide a frim foundation. I also see that his training is only with Royal Guard. No Lunar Guards, either. Only Solar. He hasn’t talked to any of the unicorns in service, nor has he made any flame as long as he’s been living here in the castle as a knight. The what’s and the hows I have.”

“You miss the why.”

He groaned. “Exactly. I have two theories right now.”

“Well?”

“First: you want him to make connections with your own troops because you’re worried about them, be it loyalty or morale… Or the second option. You’re worried about them, the House Levies. But…” he faltered, waving a hoof. “What about the split between night guard and day guard? Why not… let him train with both? I thought, perhaps, you didn’t trust your own guard, but it wouldn’t make any sense, because I know that you do.”

“You’re quite sure of my thoughts,” Luna said evenly.

Page Turner grimaced and looked up. Luna grinned at him. “I am jesting. No, you’re more or less on the mark, little archer of the mind. I do not trust the House Levies. To be honest with you, I never have. We need them, and we need the Houses--Equestria must all stand together! But I do not trust them and have not since my sister and I were elevated to the Amethyst Throne in Everfree.” She looked at Spike out of the corner of her eye. Terrible form. Simply terrible. But she returned to Page Turner after only a heartbeat. “You’re right about the Lunar Guard. I do not doubt my own soldiers.”

“But your sister’s, on the other hoof, you’re not so sure of,” Page guessed, turning from the parade grounds fully.

“Not entirely… or rather, I distrust them not out of suspicion of foul motive but out of simple knowledge of the nature of ponies. These ponies swore their allegiance to my sister’s banner. They are her stallions, her mares. They are mine by accident, and I remember that always. I try to treat them as she would, talk to them as she might, but they have lost their heart. I trust them not to revolt, but I do not trust them to excel. Not without a new figure to rally around.”

“So… Spike.”

“Perhaps. It is the least of my plays in this game, and if it does not take, the little I have ventured will not be any true loss. Any gains will quite outweigh the small benefits Spike may achieve training with my own guard.” Her eyes returned to the dragon. “I remember being not unlike him, a long, long time ago.”

“Is that so?”

She chuckled. “Am I a god, that I was always of the same mind? Or a plant that sprouts from the Earth? No, I was born out of the Song, but grew. In some ways. But yes, there was a time I had no idea how a sword was to be properly used. They were… newer then. There was a time I remember having no knowledge of them, though it seems like a dream. Perhaps, perhaps… perhaps it was, hm?” She hummed a tune that she knew would go back far beyond Page’s ken. “No, I still think it was true. I learned here, in the Middle Lands. In Canterlot, in fact, though at the time it was a rather crude fort of a monarch who was rather overfond of a fine vintage. Ah, but the mead they had…”

“Who?”

“Aethelred. I apologize. I am quite distracted today. I may need to do some teaching, myself, if my new knight is to be respected! Page Turner, are your curiosities satisfied?”

“As much as they can be, I suppose. No,” he stopped short. “Not quite. Actually, there is one thing.”

“Hm?”

“Spike. I like him, and I’m not saying you can’t trust him, because I think you can! But why? Why him? Why not one of the Captains to be a rallying point, or anypony else to… well, do whatever it is you have plans for. I know I don’t know everything yet.”

“Yet is the operative word. Soon, Page. Soon. Why Spike?”

She was quiet for a long time. Why Spike indeed. It was a fair question, one of the quality she expected from her favorite aide, her scholar-at-arms, as she called him with a smile. An easy answer was that he was convenient, having been deposited right into her mouth like a ripe grape. But the argument was a little bare and far too mechanical for her tastes. No, in fact, it was not mere convenience. If anything, Spike’s unusual abilities and physique made him harder to account for and command. He was eager and genuine and honest, but so were many penniless fools, and an army of tousle-headed poets with good hearts would be a poor army. So why?

“Perhaps, friend,” she said softly as she turned away, “perhaps because he is like myself. Taller, alone, abandoned by a sister, possessed of great power and unsure of what to make of that fact. We are orphans in a wide world; we will work out our salvation together.”

SPIKE

“For the love of the stars, watch! Pay attention!”

“I’m trying!”

The levitated sword came at him again, a feint that he easily batted away. He tightened his grip on the longsword they’d found for him. It may have been large for a pony, but it was perfect for him. Or at least, that’s what Iron Guard had told him before the quartermaster had put him off on this unicorn.

Amber Wood wasn’t even panting, but Spike felt hot and ragged. Usually, he enjoyed the heat from the sun at midday, but not like this. His arms ached. He was angry.

The unicorn lifted his shorter blade above his head as if he held it in stance. Spike copied with the stance he’d been taught, clawed hands at eye level, face forward. His chest heaved, unfamiliar with the weight of armor or the encumberance of anything more than a light tunic. Dragons were not made for clothes.

“It isn’t High Thaumaturgy, young master dragon! This is a simple game.” Amber Wood and Spike began to circle as he talked. “You’ve got the footwork down, for the most part--good! It’s the sword that’s the problem, but I thought it might be. It’s in your nature to use your claws.”

Spike grunted, not wanting to waste effort on speech.

“Of course it is.” The sword wavered. Spike tensed, but it did not cross over to his side. “Of course. But you’ve got the strength, boy, got it in spades. Those claws are too soft for armor, too soft by half. You got a ways to go!”

The sword jumped, and for a moment, and Spike lost sight of it. He looked up, blinded by the sun until the secondary membranes covered his eyes, and then he saw the practice blade coming out of the white heat.

Spike sidestepped. The sword hit the ground, and his mind burned like wildfire. Before he could even register the opportunity, his frustration blossomed into rage. He stepped down hard on the hilt of the sword. He felt Amber’s magic tugging on it, but he stayed firm, hissing. There were a few seconds of struggle, and then he felt the control over the spell break beneath his scaled foot—the tingling of magical influence vanished. He reached down and grabbed the blade. Amber was grinning when he stood back up, and his horn lit up.

The blade, however, did not.

He stared at it in disbelief, and Spike’s anger dissipated into a roar of laughter.

“Luna’s sake, what did you do?” Amber demanded. His face was red, and Spike simply laughed some more.

“Hold on, hold on… ah, let me breathe.” He calmed down and sat with a heavy thud. “Only if you let me have a break, sir.”

“I think you earned it… Magic. It has to be.”

Spike sheathed his own blade and set it by his side. He looked at his hands. The claws were too soft for the work of prying armor off, iwas true. He knew it before the veteran had ever said so. Not that he was happy about it. They looked the part. They just didn’t act it. He hated the illusion of them, how they promised so much power and made him look so… competent. Like he could handle things when he knew he couldn’t. It didn’t matter what things. Just anything. Perhaps that was why Twilight had left him. If his wings had been fully in. If his claws had been hard like diamonds.

Some of the good mood died. He traced the lines on his palm with a claw.

“I cheated,” he explained. “Not exactly. Kind of. It’s Anti-Magic, old Zebra stuff Twilight taught me a long time ago. I remembered how to draw some of it just because it looked cool, and I guess I was feeling lonely and found that book again. Found on that specifically canceled out low-level Unicorn magic on touch. I was wondering if it would work! I wasn’t really thinking about using it now.”

Amber chuckled. “Might I see? Ah, yes, I would prefer you not use such things here, but it is an ingenious thing to have in the future. Just glyphs, then? Zebra enchantment is a mystery to me…” He examined Spike’s palm. “Just glyphs. You’ve quite surprised any indignation out of me, I’ll confess… Just don’t do it again, yes?”

Spike smiled wearily. “I’ll try. I kinda forgot about it until the sword was in my hand, honestly.”

Amber removed the padded leather helmet he wore for sparring and wiped his brow. “Well that’s alright, I—"

He stopped up short, eyes widening before he straightened up. A pegasus landed beside Spike and hollered a quick warning to the others before saluting. Spike looked up from him in puzzlement.

He recognized the unicorn leisurely strolling through the grounds almost immediately. Old, good posture, mane back into a stately gray ponytail. Hard eyes that locked on Spike immediately, though he gave no other sign of recognition.

Cold Blood had come to inspect the troops.

Every alarm possible went off in Spike’s head. He didn’t need the Princess or Twilight to tell him that this one was rotten; he felt it with just a look. Good ponies didn’t have that look or give that look.

He sighed and straightened. The Princess had told him not to bow but to salute, and he did so. The eyes flashed at him, he imagined, but still gave no other sign of acknowledgement. Instead, the old, noble veteran spoke to one of the stallions on the other side of the mass of sparring recruits.

Spike relaxed his posture but kept watching Cold Blood. He didn’t bother to hide it. Something told him to lock gazes, not to be the first to look away, no matter what. He didn’t know if it was wise, but it was the only thing he could bear to do. So he watched.

“You okay there, man?”

Spike did not break contact. “Yeah,” he said. It was the pegasus from earlier, he guessed.

Cold Blood looked away first. Spike smiled and showed every last tooth. The pegasus whistled.

“Damn, son, you’re scary! You know that?”

Spike glanced down at him. “Hm?”

“Teeth, man,” the other responded, pantomiming. Spike snorted and shook his head.

“Nah, I’m not so bad. Who’re you?”

Puffing up his chest, the pegasus replied, “Rainbow Rays, nice to meet you, big guy. New in the service, same as me?”

“Probably newer, Rays. Any relation to—?”

Rays groaned and shook his head. “Gods, no. Everyone asks that! We don’t look anything alike, even!”

“Same name. Got wings.”

“And I already don’t like you. Got wings! Cheeky bastard,” Rays said with a smile. “Anyhow. Could tell you two were eyein’ each other.”

Spike turned his full attention to Rays. “Cold Blood?”

The pegasus chuckled and sat down. Spike had lost track of his mentor, but the veteran had produced a canteen and offered it to Spike, who accepted it happily.

“That’s General Blood to you,” he said sourly. “Or Lord, or whatever.”

“Don’t sound so eager to do the man honor there, Sargeant Whatever,” Spike said and offered the canteen back.

Wood shook his head and gestured at Rays. “No, let ‘im have some if he’s gonna barge up in here with news. We’re about done anyhow. I noticed it too, boy. You looked like you were about to kill that iron-hearted bastard.”

Spike shrugged. “Eh, not really? I just didn’t want to be the first to look down. He had his eyes on me when he walked in.” Probably came to spy on me and maybe say a word or two to anyone who’ll listen, he added sourly in his head.

“Not sure why he’s here. The Royal Corps aren’t exactly fond of the House Blood, you know.”

Spike’s honed skills as an expert notetaker came to the fore of his mind. Silently, he blessed Twilight’s bookishness. “Oh?” he asked, as innocuously as he could. Mental Spike prepared parchment and pen.

“Oh, yeah,” Wood continued. “Of course, boy. We’re not some lordlings ‘lap dogs. We’re not overly impressed by upstarts who think they can mess with the Lady Celestia! Or her sister,” he added quickly. “Besides, House Blood’s troops and the Royal Corps have been rivals since time out of mind. Our officers never dine together. Solar and Lunar, by the way, in case you’re about to ask. Oh, we’ll fight by their sides! But you think I’m gonna be caught dead breaking bread with some whoreson out of—” he cleared his throat and took on a grumbling, mocking tone“ —ouse Major Blood, Grandest of the Assembly?”

Rays drank greedily from the canteen when Spike offered, much to his amusement, before chiming in. “Oh yeah, definitely. They used to tell stories about him pushing the Griffons back at Farpoint in nine-seventy-nine, and I expected some sort of strutting hero, but his Lordship’s a cre—”

Woods stood up, his face red. “You mean to tell me they’re sayin’ he was at Farpoint! Stupid boy, I’ll tell you—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Spike said, putting out a hand. “Chill, Sargeant.”

The unicorn looked at him for a moment and then sat. “Lordlings,” he spat.

Rays had recovered from cowering. “Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean nothing by it. What I’m trying to say is that the Royal Corps… well,” he faltered, eyes looking to his superior and then back to the dragon who towered over him. Spike yawned, showing some teeth for good measure.

“Er, right. Well, the officers have their old hatreds and stuff, yeah, but the rank and file… I don’t know. It’s kinda hard being a Solar Guard when there’s no Princess of the Sun.”

“She’s still around, you know,” Wood replied darkly. “Right as rain and living as surely as you and I and Master Spike, here. Doing what she can to help, even from out there, you mark my words!”

“I guess,” Rays allowed, not quite meeting Wood’s eyes.

“Twilight will find her,” Spike cut in. He smiled, careful not to show off teeth. “I’m sure of it. Have you ever tried to keep a secret from the greatest librarian in the world? I have, and I can tell you that it’s impossible. Nothing goes unturned, unsearched, or unresearched. If anyone can find a needle in a haystack—Princess, needle, whatever—It’ll be Twilight.”

TWILIGHT

The buildings had tumbled in on themselves. The skyline was no longer on fire, but ti had been. She had the fleeting glimpse of a feeling, like a suspicion that it had been beautiful and bright and warm, and shivered. She was unsure if it was the wind or the image that brought it on, but Twilight had lost her balance.

Tall Tale was dead, and beyond it, she could see Vanhoover. The fires were gone. Everything was black from ash.

They entered the town of Tall Tale to no applause or ceremony. Not one of them said a word. Twilight reflected that there was not really much to be said, though she had no doubt they would try. Maybe not yet. Maybe later. Maybe any moment now, but they would do what ponies always did and try to give it all a name to curse and a face to spit on.

Twilight catalogued every burnt-out carriage, every busted taxi with a harness for pulling. She counted and drew with her eyes every ruined building and pockmarked sidewalk. What had done it? It didn’t matter. She guessed civil unrest had started it, and madness had finished it. Perhaps it began with a panic over food. This high up, perhaps it was anxiety over the cold. Too many ponies got to coughing, and then a few too many remark they are hungry in rapid succession. Riots started small, with tiny things, and they grew, and every attempt to quell them only made them stronger until ponies died or wish they had.

And I just feel numb, Twilight thought to herself. And so she did, as she stumbled through the uneven streets. I guess… why shouldn’t I be a little numb by now? It’s the same as Ponyville, only bigger. The Beachhead at Manehattan with fewer griffons. It’s just… it’s all the same. Bigger or smaller, but the same color and the same smell and…

There was no conclusion. Her thoughts trailed off without offering one, because there wasn’t one. So evil was banal. The final horror was the end of horror, yes she understood that intellectually, but what now? Was there even an Equestria to save anymore? She looked up at the obscured sun and wondered if it was tethered to a pony at all, or just a dream she’d woken up from. Or perhaps a liar.

A jolt of pain went up her leg, and with a cry, she stumbled forward. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, but the expected pain never came. She opened them again.

Applejack was supporting her. They locked eyes for a moment, and Twilight quickly looked away while Applejack set her back up on four legs. Twilight sat.

“Look where you’re goin’ there, Twi,” Applejack said softly. “You’ll get hurt.”

Twilight nodded but didn’t answer.

They continued on. They passed through the residential areas on the fringe to the business district. Ruined signs, broken windows, a few corpses but not many. She suspected they’d been burned. She found it hard to care, right away.

The silence remained, heavy—not a blanket but a net, a weighed trap, a heavy fog. Twilight looked up at the gray sky. The clouds were gathering. Dark ones.

“‘S gonna rain soon,” Applejack said as if reading her thoughts.

Twilight glanced at her as they turned the corner. The street ahead was littered with overturned carts and vehicles. She was sure the smouldering aluminum wreck in the crater of that building was a personal airship. Strange, it seemed like forever since Twilight had seen one.

“Oh, definitely,” Pinkie said, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Twilight’s ears twitched, but Pinkie went on. “Pinkie sense told me so earlier, but it…”

“Weren’t the right time,” Applejack finished.

“Yeah. But I guess now’s as good a time as any, right? Um… anypony hungry? Lunch was supposed to be thirty minutes ago. I didn’t say anything because nopony seemed hungry but I’m really, really, really hungry.”

“Thinking about food in a place like this?” Twilight muttered.

“Speak up, Twi?” Applejack asked, voice like a sword.

“Nothing. Sorry, just thinking aloud. Food would be appreciated, yes. Let’s get out of the street first.” Twilight looked around, making sure not to meet Applejack’s gaze. “There’s an alley over there.”

They crossed the street and retreated into the alley in question. Twilight slumped against the wall and stared at the bricks on the other side. Pinkie knelt and squirmed out of her bulging saddlebags and began to root around in them, humming quietly. Applejack stood at the mouth of the dirty, little alley, watching.

Twilight couldn’t care less if it were dirty. It wasn’t out in the open, and that was all that mattered. Not that she thought anything lived here. Nothing could. Nothing did. Everything was lost.

Applejack wandered into her static field of vision, offering a canteen in her mouth. She raised an eyebrow.

Twilight sighed and took the offering. “Thanks.”

“Ain’t nothin’. You alright?”

Twilight chuckled. It was a violent, one-off, angry sort of barking laugh. It was almost a genuine spot of amusement. “Absolutely not, AJ. Not even a little.”

Applejack sat beside heragainst the wall. “Well, thought I should at least ask. I suspect nopony’s quite alright.”

Twilight took a drink, relishing the slightly mineral taste of water. She realized how dry her lips had been only now, when they were wet, but restrained herself from gluttony. “Thanks,” she said, needlessly. She levitated the canteen in front of her. “Enchanted?” she asked, quietly. She felt the magic there, underneath her own. For a moment, the world fell away, and she was feeling the threaded patterns of another’s thaumaturgy.

“Hm? Oh yeah,” Applejack responded. “Sure is! Picked it up from a vendor in Canterlot. Rarity checked all that magic stuff for me, told me it was good ‘fore I bought it.”

Twilight smiled. She didn’t think about it; it came naturallyl. “This is good work. Very good. Granted, it’s not exactly thesis material! But this is good spellcrafting… elegant, even. See how… Oh. Sorry. Well, you can’t see, but the pony that enchanted this either had a lot of time on his hoovesor he was incredibly skilled. It’s… beautiful, really. Cleans any water contained in it after a minute or so.”

“Guess I got my money’s worth,” Applejack commented.

“You sure did.” She levitated it back, and Applejack drank. Wiping her mouth, she continued. “You know what I could use, ‘bout now?”

“What?” Twilight asked.

“Whiskey. Wild Pegasus. Not a lot, mind ya. Not a lot. Jus’ a little, and I’d be set. There ain’t a thing wrong with a bit of fortification as my Pa used to say.”

Pinkie cozied up to Twilight before either of them could say anything else, grinning. She offered them both sandwiches, and they ate in quiet while Pinkie talked.

“Oh, yeah, I had some in the apartment! Didn’t I tell you? We totally should have had some before we left, AJ! You know, one for the road, a little party before…” she faltered, but recovered. “Anyway, it’s back at home. We should have some when we get back.”

“Pinks, hon, that stuff is expensive. You spent money on how much of it now?”

“Oh, I’m always stocked!” Pinkie laughed. “Allllwayyys. But yeah, super expensive. Lots of bits. Or at least, it woulda been, but I did a favor for White Russian, and he had some, and since I…”

Pinkie rambled. Applejack would interject here and there, keeping the strange, wandering story alive, and between them Twilight sat as she had all along on this trip, mostly quiet, smiling despite herself.

A story. Just a story and the quiet and the dark. The dark which was not that long off, she guessed, glancing up at the clouds. She wondered if that was how it would always be. Maybe they would just wander forever and forget how to go back home, and just talk about it forever and ever, until they dropped one by one, leaving just Twilight in empty streets. Maybe she would tell stories. Just jaw on about anything, really, blabber at length about embarassing incidents as a student or about that one time when Spike grew to be huge or about how Fluttershy “liberated” Philomena. Or she could make up something new, Twilight supposed. A story about a brave knight who knew that the Princesses would come back one day, and was sure if he could just pay their ransom, that they would. Or maybe one about a circle of friends, all sorts of races and types and faces, going out on a long journey to find a magical ring. She would get desperate for tales, eventually, she supposed. Maybe ones about space, up there in Luna’s realm, the real cold and dark and quiet. Ponies she knew, maybe even one of their siblings, up their among the stars. Hell, let there be some ghosts. A few love triangles! Some bad breakups. Drunkenness. Sex. A lot of tears. Spike can get into a tussle with some grown dragon and marry Rarity, and a thousand years from now there’ll be some… some lonesome pony wandering around in these ruins, one of a whole race of us who lived on and were happy in some far away place under…

She sighed.

After a few more minutes, they headed out. Twilight led again while Pinkie took the rear and Applejack inched closer and closer to the lead as if waiting for Twilight to do… something.

It was around the docks that things changed.

The streets emptied out. Somepony had dragged debris away and pushed it into alleys and buildings. There were no more bodies. Twilight noted the remains of a fire in one of the open sidestreets, and they all paused around it.

“Company?” Applejack asked.

“Yes.”

“Well… damn, maybe they’re just some harmless ponies, Twi. If it were raiders… I mean, they’re all touched, y’know? We’d see scrawled symbols and all kinds of weird messed up… things. Bodies imapled or somethin’, beats me.”

“Not likely,” Twilight said, staring at the embers. “We’ll just have to avoid them.”

Applejack let out a sigh, but Pinkie spoke first. “Twilight, we can’t allllways run away from every single pony! We could use some directions… and food… and we could talk to them, and—”

“No.”

“Don’t be so damned quick, Twilight. This is what I’m talkin’ about!” Applejack hissed. “Just… think. Use that damned noggin of yours, ‘cause I know it works. It works like a dream, but I can’t tell from how you just get to shuttin’ down. Now, there ain’t any signs of raiders or at least that they’ve been here long. We could look for survivors. I wanna know what’s happened here.”

“Death happened,” Twilight said flatly.

“Well, duh, thankya for your beautiful insight there,” Applejack said.

“Girls…” Pinkie tried to butt in, but Applejack continued.

“We could call out, make sure we ain’t all bunched up. You could have your shield ready. They might be down at the docks. We need a way across the ocean, Twi—”

“We can find our own boat.”

“Girls…”

“Can you sail it?”

“I can figure it out! We don’t need any other ponies.”

“Oh? Cause I sure can’t navigate all that well, and even if you can, you can’t fix no boat, and furthermore—”

Pinkie shook them both and tilted their heads up towards the windows above. “Girls, look.”

Eight sets of eyes watched them.

**

“You have no idea how glad we are to see somepony’s still livin’ around these parts,” Applejack said, drinking from a battered mug. Cider, provided by the survivors of Tall Tale, bearing her family’s own mark. Or at least, Applejack had said the barrel did. Twilight could hardly tell with how much of the paint had been worn off. It hadn’t helped how dark it was by the docks. Night fell quickly, with Celestia gone, and it always caught Twilight by surprise.

“We were surprised to see ponies comin’ in from outside. Refugees stopped months ago,” Harvest said. He was a big earth pony, from good, rustic stock. He reminded Twilight a bit of Big Macintosh back home in Ponyville. Canterlot, she corrected.

“Oh, we’re not refugees! We’re travelling through,” Pinkie said. “Well… I mean refugees travel too, but…”

Harvest chuckled. It was a deep, resonant sound. “I get what you mean, little miss. You three are far too well fed to be refugees anyhow. From Canterlot, you said?”

Twilight watched from across the fire, which itself sat in a barrel. The ponies of Tall Tale gathered in little circles around other barrels, lodged in tents and lean-tos. She’d asked them why they’d left the buildings behind, but Harvest had simply asked her how she would feel about sleeping in a mausoleum. Besides, she thought to herself, glancing out over the soiled bay, with structural damage and lack of maintenance, they might not be a wise lodging.

“Eeyup,” Applejack drawled. She was smiling; Twilight could see the slight flash of her eyes reflecting the fire and the way the dancing flames illuminated her easy smile. It was… refreshing, she decided. It was a little bit of home. Not her own, perhaps, but somepony else’s, and it was enough for now.

Twilight drifted.

The ponies of Tall Tale were few, but more than she would ever have hoped for. Hundreds, living by the docks and in a makeshift fort only a few blocks away from the campsite they’d found. They ate from the leftover scraps of the earlier world and gathered from the tough weeds and bushes and vines in and outside of the city what fruit there was to be found. There wasn’t much, but the snows usually didn’t fall in the bay area, and so they returned home with dried tubers. They lived like ponies did in the beginning, she thought. Off the complexities of the land, eating from the surface, digging if they had to and it was shallow, but mostly just taking what was offered. It almost sounded alright.

Winter would still come, and even they would be frozen and die with every other Equestrian. Not even this simpler way of living could survive. The Sun was needed to help things grow, after all.

They’d gotten much of the story of what happened in Tall Tale, and a glimpse of the ruin of its sister city across the bay, Vanhoover, from Harvest. These ponies elected no leader and gave no thought to succession; at least, so they claimed, and yet, for all intents and purposes, Harvest led them. He gave no orders, usually. He simply asked, and ponies did. He was a leader of Stallions, Twilight supposed. Built into him was the stuff of Generals. He smiled at every foal and knew their names, and he was quick to offer them a tent for the night. She was sure that he watched them and that his guard was up, but she could not see it in his eyes or hear it in his voice. He had an upturned hoof.

It bothered her.

It bothered her not only because it was so out of place in the world around her but because simple generosity itself… bothered her, now. How far had she come? Twilight sighed. Pinkie had told him much of their purposes, though not where they thought Celestia might be. Twilight had made her swear not to talk about Jannah or the West at all if she could help it, but nopony could keep Pinkie from excitedly revealing the rest of their journey. She told it well, Twilight admitted. Embellished Twilight’s magic, which embarrassed her, but otherwise more or less with accuracy, if a little too much color. The smiling, dirty ponies of Tall Tale had accepted it all with eagerness. There wasn’t much news to be had in such a world.

Harvest told them that Vanhoover had lost contact with Canterlot partially out of choice. The griffons landed, and when the Beachhead was announced, ponies fell into despair. Twilight had said nothing, only nodding. It was an appropriate response, really. But then the old stallion had committed suicide a week before the Army of Griffonia dispersed, and no one cared about what was happening in Manehattan or Canterlot then. The Vanhoover telegraph office burned down, anyhow, in a small riot. Tall Tale, across the bridge, was stable if afraid. The farmers came into town when the days grew too short and the air too cold and the raiders too lean and aggressive. In Vanhoover, they chose a new Mayor.

Democracy, Twilight thought sourly, as she stared across the starry, spoiled sea towards the greatest of the Western ports.

Tall Tale and Vanhoover were Earth Pony towns, traditionally. They voted on everything. They elected other ponies to do voting for them, even. It was all a bit silly, but she supposed it was something you had to understand from the inside.

“Now, we got aristocrats,” Harvest said, chuckling. “But they’re not much but rich folk and proud folk, and there ain’t many lords and ladies that keep those titles long. Not since… well, I guess not since the Old Bear himself, but that’s just a story. I guess they got to lookin’, you know. At how you unicorns do things. Or how the Pegasi obey the Strategoi. I guess, when you think of yourself as a leader and bred to lead, it only makes sense that you try to lead when everybody’s all panickin’.

“So I don’t blame ‘em, not as much as other’s might. Anypony, really. It just… is, and takin’ sides is pointless now. So the nobles and the rich folk put up their candidate, a young dandy… oh, hell, I think I forgot his name. No! No I remember. Gray. Gray somethin’. But ponies liked him. He was a nice stallion. Maybe not the brightest or the most subtle, maybe not the most experienced, but Tartarus take me if he didn’t prance around like a hero out of the tales. He wasn’t so bad.

“The Populares, these new upstarts, they hated him. Wore blue, I think. Brown? No, it was blue. Blue and Gray. The Dandy won, but only barely, and they say it was all a cheat, and so there was a recount, and then another fella won, and there was a riot. We heard that much from the ponies that came across the bridge. You heard noise drifting across the bay for days. Thought they were killin’ each other, and I was right. Days of fire and smoke. Blew themselves up, I suspect. The Young Dandy died quickly. The fool who got the better of the recount ran as fast as his fat little legs could carry him. The Populares control the docks now, and they're still fighting. Some. Aren’t that many left, I guess. They’ll be done soon, any day now they’ll finally finish it. I suppose nopony at all is gonna win, as I see it. They spilled their fightin’ over here, and now both of us live in dead places.”

So the city was a warzone. The first step off the bridge would be like re-entering the Beachhead.

She had asked him about the survivors, thinking that perhaps she could ask them questions about the city, maybe ask if anypony knew what might be safest way to the docks.

“They… there’s somepony, somewhere around here,” he said, but then shook his head. “We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Twilight had shrugged, but she had watched his eyes. The moment passed. They moved onto other topics, Pinkie steering the conversation into every metaphorical bush and wall and house that she could manage to. Everything was fair game to her. Harvest chuckled often, and asked questions. Twilight thought he seemed genuinely amused, and Pinkie seemed to like him.

Twilight excused herself quietly from the happiness around the fire. She felt Pinkie watch her go, but she didn’t say anything but goodbye.

Instead, she found an old tavern on the boardwalk. The windows were intact, but she didn’t bother to read the white lettering on them. The name of this place didn’t interest her. What interested her were the tables.

Inside, it was dusty. Tables and chairs were strewn about, and the bar was ransacked. Twilight had little interest in it all, really. She supposed Applejack would have had some comment to make, a sad musing on the ponies that had been here. Pinkie would have sat at the bar, perhaps, and Twilight herself might have been reminded of older nights and older parties. Perhaps. It wasn’t that she didn’t think remembering was bad. No. She was sure it wasn’t that; it was simply that she had something important to do. It seemed the right time.

She produced the scrying stone from her bag and placed it on a table.

It was golden or at least appeared so. Twilight knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t nearly heavy enough to be gold. It was perfectly round and yet sat without difficulty in one place, reflecting the moon. She sighed, placing a hoof delicately on its smooth surface. It was warm to the touch. Not unpleasantly so. In fact, to Twilight’s surprise, it was like touching a pony. Warm, alive. Not metallic at all. She marvelled at it.

But she needed some light, first. She concentrated, setting four amberish lights about her in midair so that now she saw herself reflected in the stone’s mirrorlike field.

What would she say? “Hey, how’re you doing? Everything sucks here. Is Canterlot still falling apart?” “Oh, just up to the usual. Dying cities.” No, not quite flippant enough. What should I say? I have been wandering in the alleys and graves?

Hesitantly, she reached out with her magic and touched the stone.

It reacted instantly. It was like the mental handshake of combining magic with another unicorn, tingling sensation and all. The orb glowed brightly golden, and Twilight waited silently in the dark for she knew not how long until Luna appeared in the circle which shone so bright that it seemed a white hole in the night. But the light faded, and then she found that it was clear as glass, and inside was Luna in some chamber of her own, she guessed with the other stone on a pedestal.

“Twilight!” Luna said, her voice high and her eyes wide. Twilight couldn’t help it. She heard her name said in such a way, and she smiled.

“Hello, Princess,” she said quietly. “This really is fascinating magic.”

The princess coughed. “Yes, right. Sorry, you startled the decorum out of Us, Twilight Sparkle…” The princess bit her lip and looked up from the stone.

Twilight was puzzled. Was something wrong?”

When Luna looked back, she was smiling. “But please, do not call Us—me, I apologize! Do not call me Princess, not right now. We are alone, yes? Call me Luna. We may drop the masks of decorum here.”

Twilight smiled wider and raised an eyebrow. “You strike me as the kind who likes ceremony, Luna. Changing your mind?”

Luna—Celestia forgive her if Celestia even cared—seemed to pout. “I have not. Tradition and ceremony are very important! They are our way of imposing order and beauty onto the mundanities of chaos, after all. I quite appreciate them. But in private… one does wish to be called by one’s own name, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Same, Princess. But you have to stop calling me by my whole name.”

“We—I! I shall try. Twilight,” she said for emphasis. It was strange, but to hear just her first name made Twilight happy. The princess always used the formal full name of every pony but her sister. It was a little like being accepted, she supposed.

It all felt so… easy. She felt like talking again, which was a miracle. “I hope everything is going well in Canterlot, Luna. My party has just reached Tall Tale. We’re crossing the bridge over into Vanhoover tomorrow.”

Luna grinned. “Excellent! I’m so pleased you finally were able to contact us, Twilight… Has everything been alright? Your companions are safe?”

“Yes. Applejack and Pinkie are fine. Pinkie’s been a little down, but it’s hard not to be, out here. Applejack and I have been butting heads, but that’s not really new.”

“Butting heads?” Luna asked, frowning. Her brow furrowed.

“No, no it’s fine. She’s usually right, probably. I dismissed the possibility of survivors who didn’t want to kill us out of hoof, earlier. I’ve just been… off, I guess. It’s hard to be on target out here.” Twilight paused, organizing her thoughts. “The city is toast. Both of them are. Not sure how many are left around here. There’s a little community of survivors in this town who are peaceful and making do. You’d be proud of them.”

“And I would. We have always appreciated the resilience of ponies of the earth,” Luna said. “But… I am sorry to hear that. I had hoped they would be alright, alone…”

“Well… I’ll tell you about it later, I guess, Luna. If it’s not… too much trouble, could I ask about Spike?”

Luna’s smile returned. There was something else, too, Twilight thought, in how she handled herself. A bit of pride, perhaps. “Oh, yon master Spike is quite in good hooves, I assure you! He’s my newest knight, after all.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ve put him to work as you might say! I need every hoof and claw willing to help, Twilight. Spike has been training with the Royal Guard since you left and attending me during the nights.”

“How are the Houses liking that?” Twilight asked, picturing a regally armored Spike and smirking.

“There is a mixed reaction. Some appreciate the power he has; few can deny the romantic appeal of it… and the usual offenders are annoyed with us. As usual.”

“As usual.”

“Regardless,” Luna continued. “Spike is… I will not lie to you. None of us are ever safe, Twilight. The Game is now afoot, the Game of Houses, old as the throne. Now that the Elements are gone, the preliminaries are finished, and the Opening moves are being made. We are playing chess while the world burns, Twilight, and no one is as unahppy with it as I am… but I have to. Spike is my opening gambit.”

The words raised a flag somewhere in Twilight’s mind. She recalled many chess games, and her face folded into a worried frown. “Luna…”

“Twilight… please do not be upset. I would bare it ill if you were,” the princess pleaded, and Twilight was surprised at her tone. It was… not raw, but soft. Not as a queen, but as a pony. She blinked, surprised.

“He’s like… Well, in some ways, he is my brother.”

“I know. I respect him highly. We are alone, he and I, and we become friends in the ways that the left behind tend to. But I need him. I need somepony—someone, I should say—who is not already on the inside. To be my eyes and ears. To be my dagger, my rook. But he is also my companion, Twilight. My gift from you, as it were,” she finished.

“What are you planning?” Twilight asked. She rested her head on her hooves. How late was it? Her weariness was catching up to her.

“It is… hard to say. At the moment? There are pawns to move out of his way. And I need more than a single rook to do the task. He needs companions, and I believe he’s finding them. There is but one more to collect, and then the game will truly begin. Canterlot must be preserved. It will be here when you get back.”

Twilight looked out the window, but it was impossible to see anything with the glare of the lights. It was just as well, really. There was nothing to see. The city was dead. One dead city of many.

“I hope so,” she said quietly.