The Duke awoke to a splitting headache, the same sort that he had awoken to every night since the crash. He shut his eyes tightly, and focused on the pain. He had been told by the doctors that when it got bad, to find the source, then concentrate on it. He didn’t know if it helped, and honestly he didn’t believe it made a lick of difference. But, it did give him something to do, something to focus on as opposed to just lying in misery.

The pain was still focused around the top of his skull, as he expected that it would. After all, headaches weren’t the brain feeling pain, because the brain didn’t have any sense of touch. No, his brain was inflamed from the injury, and was pressing against his still healing skull, that was the source of the headache. That’s what the doctors told him, and that was correct, but that was all the help they could offer him.

Just rest, don’t strain yourself too much, trot around a little when the nurses come to walk with you. Time and time alone will heal this. He shook his head a little with disgust, and received a slight jolt of pain in his head for it. It was worth it though. What bucking good were the doctors and the hospital and the nurses if the only thing that they could do for him was wait? Wait and ask him unceasing questions. Math, history, logic, every day they’d bring him something new. Solve this puzzle, do this crossword for me. And when he was done they’d leave the room, probably chew over his mental capabilities, and never disclose what they thought to him.

He frowned as opposed to shaking his head this time, frowning punished him less. He was being too hard on them. They may have been about as useful as a bucket full of holes as far as getting him better goes, but they did always try and keep him busy. Otherwise, he’d just be lying in pain, just about all day, just about every day, unable to do anything. That would be unbearable.

And they did help him, even if only a little. For the first few days after the crash, he couldn’t stand. He could barely eat. His speech was slurred. He needed a damn bedpan. And he was bucking scared. He shuddered. Imagine a whole life like that. But they helped, they encouraged, and at least he had progressed to just about the point of normalcy. Once his horn had healed it's chip and they put him through his magic paces again, he’d be out.

That was maybe the worst part. He hadn’t been able to use magic in a while, and he didn’t know just how much he used it until he couldn’t. He looked over at the bed stand next to him, and at the little cup of water that sat on it. Normally he wouldn’t move a muscle, just levitate it on over and have a drink. But magic from a damaged horn was wild, unpredictable. So he had to reach over and pick it up in his hooves, which he did. And to think that earth ponies and pegasi had to do everything like this.

He looked around the dimly lit room, but his eyes had adjusted enough to see the terrible whiteness of it. The walls were crème painted, the floor white tile, and the ceiling white boards. The beds and bedsheets and curtains all white as well. The room didn’t look good even on the best of days, but enough time had passed for all the redeeming features to fade away. He was ready for a change.

With a small squeak the door at the end of the room opened, and a nurse quietly walked into the gallery, careful not to wake the other ponies. She looked over at him, and noticing he was awake trotted over to him.

“Early to rise as always,” She said softly as reached his bedside.

“I suppose so,” the Duke conceded “What time is it?”

“About 5:30.”

“Is the paper here yet?”

“Yes, and I think that you’re going to like it. It’s good news.”

“Good news?” he asked skeptically, and she pulled the latest issue of the Canterlot Crusader from her saddlebags. He was usually up this early, and she would bring him the news first, but rarely did she seem this excited about it. She held it up in her mouth for him, and below her smile he could see the reason for it.

In the sidebar he could see the secondary headline

The Duke cracked a smile. “So the war ended with a whimper? I would have never thought.” The nurse placed the paper on the bed beside him, and he looked at it more. The main photograph was of a parade that could only be the main road of Vanhoover, and through the sea of confetti and streamers that fell upon it he could see a cruiser tank in focus. All the crew were unbuttoned and at attention, and although it was distant, he thought that he recognized them. His smile lessened. The tank had an inscription on the turret, but he couldn’t make it out. He looked at the caption. “The first tank to enter Vanhoover, ‘The Fillydelphia Flyer’ gets greeted rapturously by the population. Its commander Manifest Destiny is the most decorated soldier of the war.”

“Hmmm,”

“What’s wrong? I thought that even you couldn’t find a downside to this, you sourpuss.”

“I like the news, I just am not particularly pleased with who’s in It.” he spun the paper around, and pointed to the tank. “A month ago that was me. I was in charge of that platoon. Then I got injured, and he took my rank and position.” He placed the paper down and shook his head. “And he gets all the glory.”

She almost laughed, but upon seeing his face and thinking of the other patients quickly stifled it. “You’re jealous?” she jested.

He shook his head. “No, not at all. He just did exactly what I expected him to.”

“And what would that be?”

“End up in the papers.”

She cocked her head. “What’s bad about that?”

“It’s hard to explain,” he said, spinning the paper back around to read it. “Oh, that’s nice, he gets a lunch with the princesses in here in Canterlot today. Big surprise. I bet he’s going to have a ball telling them how great he is.”

“So he’s full of himself?”

“Not outwardly.” The Duke said. “Hay, he may even be a bit humble. Or at least act that way.”

“Soooo, what’s your issue with him?”

“I have spent about a month trying to figure that out. I’ll tell you when I do.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you with your paper.” She turned and walked out, and he spent the rest of the morning reading tales of peace in their time.

Manifest pushed through the doors of the Canterlot hospital of the Two Sisters and trotted up to the reception desk. Behind the desk sat an older mare, nose down in paperwork, but glancing over the top of a pair of half-moon glasses at him. She looked up at him directly, and smiled softly. “What can I do for you today?”

“I’d like to see a friend, heard he was here.”

“His name?”

Manifest paused. He didn’t really know his name, not his real one anyway. The Duke was just the Duke. If they went by civilian names, he’d have no clue. “Uh, do you take military names?”

The mare sighed. “Yes, we do.” She opened up a filing cabinet, then looked at him expectantly. “He was referred to as ‘The Duke’.” She rolled her eyes, and looked through the files.

“You know, it’s so hard to keep track of ponies nowadays.” She said as she combed through them. “Everypony in the cavalry or airborne or wherever it is has two different names and a serial number, and it all gets jumbled so fast. What’s wrong with the names your parents gave you?”

“Something about disconnecting yourself with your actions, for mental health.” She snorted, but grabbed up a file in her teeth and set it out on the desk.

“He’s here, in the recovery ward.”

“Oh, great!” Manifest said. “Can I go see him?”

“Name,” the mare said, before clarifying “your original one.”

“Static Sparks”

“Reason for visit.”

Manifest paused. The real reason was hard to explain. Part of him felt that he had to, out of decency, regardless of how antagonistic to him the Duke was. Part of him thought that maybe meeting the Duke would help in his recovery, a bit of a more altruistic reason. Mainly though, he wanted to… that's just it. He didn’t quite know what he expected, but he felt that he would look back on his time with the Duke and have nothing but bad memories. He hoped that maybe, if he was removed from the war, he would leave Manifest with something better to remember him by. Manifest wanted, at least, some measure of closure.

“Wanted to check up on my old CO.” The mare scribbled it down on a form.

“Relationship”

“He was my old CO.”

“I’ll just put friend.” Manifest almost protested, he and the Duke were not friends, but he stopped himself. “Right, wait here and a nurse will take you to him.”
Manifest looked around for a chair, and trotted over and took a seat. It was cheap, but still comfortable. He looked around the waiting room. It was so clean and sterile. Normally, it would look bland to him, the sort of room that tried to move you on to the next one by virtue of its style (or lack thereof). But today, after six weeks of living in ‘The Flyer’ and an unending routine of dirt, mud, grease, and oil, this room was captivating. And the chair. He hadn’t sat in a chair like this in ages. He leaned back against it. He could fall asleep right here.

But he couldn’t, he checked his watch, it was about 9:20. His lunch with the princesses would happen at 1:00, so he had plenty of time. Celestia. Literally. Lunch with Celestia. And Luna, and Twilight, and Cadance. He shook his head. ‘What did I do to deserve this?’ he thought. Usually he’d think that when things went wrong, but now that he was thinking about it when things went right it forced introspection.

He fought at the Galloping Gorge. He fought at Canterlot. He saved Unicornians. He commanded ‘The Flyer’ from Canterlot to Vanhoover. He took out the Wrecker and according to some that made the continued offensive possible. The flyer was the first tank over Griffon Bridge at the second battle of the Galloping Gorge, and first tank into Vanhoover. Listed together, it sounded impressive. But each action alone seemed trivial. Only destroying the Wrecker seemed extraordinary, in all other cases he was just doing what he had to. And half of this was in the safety of a tank. What did he do to deserve this? Be lucky? Be at the right place at the right time? These answers were unsettling.

Perhaps what he did was simply to do what others didn’t. Others didn’t fight at the first Galloping Gorge, but he did. Others didn’t try and save Unicornians, but he did. This answer made him feel better, but only just. Compared to Repeater and his old squad mates, he didn’t feel any more heroic. If anything, the tank made him feel less so. He sighed. He’d go to the lunch, but he didn’t know if he had earned it.

He opened up one of his saddlebags, and grabbed out a sheet of paper and a pencil. He would use this time to write to Amber. It always helped him to organize his thoughts, to relax. He put his pencil to paper.

“You’re here to see The Duke?”

Manifest looked up to see a white earth pony, with light pink tail and mane, a red cross for her cutie mark. He nodded. She motioned to the hallway with her head. “Follow me.”

He folded the paper away, and got up to follow her. She looked over her shoulder at him. “only one pony’s come to see him so far, how do you know him?”

“He used to be my Commanding officer before he got injured.”

The mare stopped in her tracks. “Oh my gosh, are you Manifest Destiny?”

Manifest stopped as well. This mare knew him? For a second he was thrown, then he remembered the newspapers that he had seen. He was famous now, and ponies would know him. It didn’t make it any less weird to him that this perfect stranger knew him by name. “Yes.”

“Oh my gosh.” For a few seconds she just stared at him, then as the reality of the situation began to dawn on her she tilted her head slightly, and the expression changed from awed to quizzical. “Is this the first time someponys noticed you like this?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t really know what to do when this happens.”

“I figured, I ran into Countess Coloratura once at a coffee shop and she just reacted so naturally, probably because it happens to her all the time.”

“So what did she do?”

“Well, I don’t know if it was anything that you could do. I told her I was a fan, she asked me for my favorite song, then told me hers is the Equestrian Anthem, and she signed my coffee and gave me a hug.”

“Hmmm.” Manifest said, “I don’t think that would work for me.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so either.”

“Got any recommendations? For when I run into ponies?”

“Ummmm, I don’t know. You aren’t an entertainer or something, so you really don’t have to be entertaining. Just be yourself.”

“Okay,” Manifest said, now trying to figure out what being himself meant. “I don’t really talk with ponies I don’t know though.”

The nurse cocked her head as she walked. “Huh. So you’re a bit shy?”

“I guess.”

“Then maybe you get them talking. Have a question to ask everypony that starts the conversation, like Countess Coloratura.”

“What, like ‘what’s your favorite medal I won?’?” Manifest asked, then he shook his head. “That makes me seem like a jerk.” He looked back over at her. “It isn’t like music where we both will have the same interests or experiences. I won’t have a way for them to relate to me.”

“I think you do,” She said almost sadly. “Everypony has shared the war. Just ask them if they had any family join the military, or ask them what they did. Anypony who doesn’t have an answer to either of those is either very lucky, or not the type of pony you’d want to talk to.”

“Well, you obviously did this, so did you have any family join up?”

“My brother, Red Cross. He joined and became a frontline medic. He was already so good at it that he didn’t even have to change his name. He even got a few medals from his time.”

“Which ones?”

“Star, second class. Star, third class. He even got a Heart, third class.”

“He got a Heart?”

“Yeah, patched up 3 Unicornians at the Galloping Gorge. Kinda like you, right?”

Manifest nodded once. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s in Vanhoover right now, coming home in a few days. I’m really proud of him, the whole family is, but mostly I’m just glad that he’s coming home in one piece. I’ve seen enough ponies come in and out of these doors to know that that is a real blessing. And I know he has too. Him back home, it’s all me and the folks were hoping for.”

Manifest raised an eyebrow. “And liberation?”

“Oh! Right! Of course we wanted to win too, but, uh… That wasn’t as close to home as he was.” She looked at him, and her ears dropped nervously. “That isn’t so bad, right?”

“I understand.” Manifest said, and she perked back up. “All the letters I got from my friends and family said the same thing.”

“Thanks,” she said. “You know, you aren’t like what I thought you would be.”

“Really? How did you think I would be?”

“Well, all the news made you out to be like Daring Doo or Supermare, but you’re a lot more… timid?”

“I’ll take that as a complement.”

“And I thought you would be taller.”

“Oh.” Manifest said. “All tankers are on the short side.”

“But they make you look big in the pictures.”

“It’s just the tank that does that.”

“I guess so.” She stopped trotting, at the end of the hallway was a close door labeled ‘VISITATION’. “I also thought that you might not be the nicest pony, because the Duke was talking about you this morning, and it wasn’t flattering.”

Manifest sighed. Well, some ponys never change. Whatever he had hoped for as far as leaving on a positive note he now crushed. “I was afraid of that.”

“Do you still want to see him?”

Manifest paused. Most likely the meeting would be awkward, and painful, and he didn’t really want to deal with that. But there was a chance that it wouldn’t be. “Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll tell him. Just wait here a minute, okay?”

“Okay.”

The nurse trotted into the room, and he could hear her speak in a quiet tone. He felt nervous. Not stressed like in combat, more like the feeling that preceded it, but less so than even that. Just a pang of emotional discomfort. The nurse trotted back out.

“You can go in now, I hope you have a good talk.” She said it like she didn’t think that he would though.

“Thank you,” Manifest said, then he paused. A simple thank you wasn’t enough. “You may not know it, but your talk really helped me out with some things.”

“Hopefully you’ll do alright when ponies notice you.” She paused, and put on a weird face, one ear dropping. “So, this may be a bit forward of me, but… you have plans for lunch. Have any for dinner?”

Manifest shook his head, and she pepped up. “Well I know a great place that you could go to, and if you wanted I’d-“Manifest raised a hoof and cut her off.

“Sorry, but I already have somepony in Fillydelphia.”

“Oh.” She blushed deeply. “Lucky filly.” She shook her head, clearly embarrassed “I’m sorry, it’s just-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Manifest said

“But-”

“Really. Don’t.”

She smiled weakly, ears still drooped, and face still red, but less so embarrassed. “Thanks. I uh, I guess I’ll see you later?”

“Maybe,” Manifest said. ”It was nice talking to you, Miss…?”

“Redheart.”

“It’s been a pleasure.” And with that he nodded and turned and trotted into the recovery room.

The room was white, almost garishly so, and nearly too brightly lit. It was artificial and antiseptic, and apart from a window that looked out onto the valley and mountains below Canterlot Castle, it seemed like an interrogation room.

The Duke sat at the only table in the room, and as Manifest entered he was smiling. Then the smile left, a scowl taking its place as the Duke's whole body drooped.

“Where’s the press?”

It wasn’t just a question, it was an accusation, and it caught Manifest off guard. “What?”

“The reporters, the photographers, where are they?”

“There aren’t any.” Manifest said, annoyance creeping into his voice despite his best attempts to reign it in. this conversation was going to be precisely as painful as he thought it would be. The Duke, for his part, looked incredulous.

“Really? Can you open the door wide for me then?”

Manifest twisted the knob with his magic, then kicked the door open. Not a full power buck, but enough for it to swing wide open, hit the opposite wall, and have enough momentum left to swing slowly shut. The Duke looked genuinely surprised for a moment, then he cracked a thin grin.

“They really aren’t here. Didn’t think that you had it in you.”

Manifest sighed, and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “Why would the press be here, Duke?”

The Duke chuckled. “Think of the headlines. ‘Most compassionate soldier in Equestria visits former commander in hospital. Is truly the best pony.’” He said in an imitating tone. Then whatever humor he had in his expression vanished. “Besides, I thought that you loved the press.”

“Love the press!?” Manifest said, this time he was the one who was incredulous. “I’ve only ever talked to the press twice, and the first time they didn’t even quote me. Hay, the only interaction I’ve had with them since I joined the armored corps was to tell a reporter to buck off!”

The Duke just looked at him, for a few seconds anyway, as though if he looked closely enough a sign would appear above Manifest and tell him outright if this was true. “You really don’t care for them, do you?”

“I wasn’t the most talkative pony before the war, so having these ponies that I’ve never met come up to me and start asking me all these questions about who I am and what I’ve done… I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Then why are you here?” it was not a question asked kindly, its bluntness silencing the room. There was not a trace of humor to be found in the Duke’s demeanor, his face hard and his features sharp. Despite this, Manifest did his best to remain cordial.

“Has it occurred to you that I may be simply checking in on my old CO?”

“Yes, but it also occurred to me that we had maybe one positive interaction the entire time we knew each other, so you wouldn’t want to come here because of all the fond memories. So if it really isn’t the press, then why are you here?”

“Because I don’t want to remember you as the biggest pain in the flank that I ever met!” silence ensued, the Duke's expression didn’t change. That almost fired up Manifest even more. “You’re right by the way, I didn’t come here because of the good times we had because we didn’t have any! Not one! And I was hoping that maybe we’d talk and I’d have something that I could point to that said ‘hey, the Duke isn’t the most miserable pony in existence! Just one good memory!”

Again, the room fell silent. And again the Duke’s expression didn’t change. Manifest breathed heavily, he hadn’t had an outburst like this since the Wrecker. Still though, after that, the Duke only stared.

“So you want a good memory?” the Duke asked finally. Manifest nodded. “Some degree of vindication? ‘The Duke didn’t hate you after all’?” With that sentence Manifest realized where this was going, and he didn’t want to believe it. “So you don’t like the press, but you just want everypony to like you?” the Duke smiled coldly. “Well Manifest Destiny, even though you came here for a good memory I’m not going to give it to you because I just don’t like you.”

Manifest didn’t answer, for a few seconds he didn’t know how, and for those seconds the Duke just smiled. Finally, Manifest just shook his head.

“You know what, I don’t need this crap.” He turned and trotted to the door, but looked back to the Duke one last time. He still smiled that humorless smile. ‘Buck this,’ Manifest thought. Good manners compelled him to say a goodbye, but all of the misery he endured under the Duke had come home to roost. “Well, I would have liked to be able to say that it was nice seeing you, but it wasn’t.” he turned and faced the Duke fully. “And I would have liked to say that I hope to see you again, but I don’t.” slowly, the Duke's smile began to lessen. “I would have liked to say ‘I hope you get better,’ but at this point, I don’t give a damn.” That statement wiped the smile right off his face, but Manifest didn’t care anymore. “I would have liked something nice to remember you by, but I was right to begin with. When all of this is said and done, I’ll look back and say ‘the Duke was the worst pony I ever met, an irredeemably awful prick, and I fought the Unicornians’.” The Duke looked… not surprised, but hurt. Manifest shrugged “but I guess that’s what you want.” Manifest opened the door with his magic. “Usually I’d say goodbye, but that has the word good in it, and I don’t feel right using it around you.” The Duke opened his mouth to respond, but Manifest simply turned and left.

‘What a waste of time.’ Manifest thought. But, what more did he expect. Some ponies just don’t change. He heard the door shut behind him, but carried on. He had other things to think about. He had to get prepared for the lunch, he had to figure out how he was getting back to Fillydelphia. Hay, even thinking about home, Amber, his parents. That was all preferable to thinking about the Duke. Just about anything was. In fact, if he never thought about him again, he wouldn’t care. Behind him he heard the door open.

“Don’t you want to know why?”

Manifest looked behind him. The Duke stood in the doorway, his IV drip dragging behind him. He was breathing hard, the effort he exerted must have been uncomfortable for him.

“Why what?”

“Why I don’t like you?”

“It wouldn’t matter.” Manifest said, and he turned and kept walking away.

“It might!” Manifest didn’t stop, and didn’t turn. “If the war doesn’t end!” Manifest still didn’t react. “I thought you would get ponies killed!”

Perhaps nothing else that the Duke could have said would have stopped him, but that statement did. He didn’t turn to face him, but his ears betrayed his interest as they turned to the Duke. “Come back here, and listen to me.”

Manifest sighed. The way the Duke talked there sounded like the authoritarian Lieutenant that he always had to butt heads with. But just seconds ago, as much as he didn’t want to care or admit it, he sounded genuine. “I’m the same rank as you lieutenant, I’m not obligated to do anything.”

There was a slight pause, then an answer. “Come back here, and just hear me out.” There it was, the sincerity. Manifest turned around.

“If you don’t like me so much, then why do you want to keep talking to me?”

“Manifest, you were a lot of things, but you were never cruel. Not like you just were to me. I…” he made a face, like he knew what he had to say, but couldn’t find the way to say it. “I owe you… an explanation.”

“Well, I’d like to hear it,” Manifest said, and he trotted back toward the room. The Duke turned and carefully walked back to his seat, and looked out the window, never looking to Manifest. Manifest closed the door. He stood and faced the Duke. “So, you thought that I was going to get ponies killed?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you didn’t like me?”

“Yes.”

“And why did you think that I was going to get ponies killed?”

The Duke looked Manifest in the eye “back when they were forming the platoons for the armored corps, I already knew who you were from the papers. You had shown up twice already, once for the Battle of the Galloping Gorge, and once for saving those Unicornians at Canterlot. Everypony was so impressed with what you had done, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t at least appreciate it. But I couldn’t figure out why you did what you did, and I still can’t figure out why you did what you did, but I knew that you were a risk taker. And as they were forming us up into the platoons and I learned that I would be platooned with you and I learned that you would likely be the platoon leader, just about everypony else was excited by the idea of serving under you. But that thought scared me more than anything else.”

Manifest didn’t understand what the Duke meant, but he continued. “If you wanted to take risks on your own, as a private, fine. That’s your business. But if you were in charge of a platoon, and you decided that you would take these unnecessary risks, I thought that you would get me and everypony under your command killed. So the second you declined I jumped on it, because my goal wasn’t to get medals or attention or anything, it was to get everyone I was in command of home in one piece.”

Manifest frowned, “I had the same goal.” The Duke waved a hoof flippantly

“After the Battle at Canterlot, where you separated from the group, and then your tank was driving around in the middle of the field for the entire damn company to see I realized that you would still be a risk taker, and I was positive that the reason was for fame or attention or something. And then, you almost got yourself and Deadeye and Lead Hooves killed in front of the entire damn company because you wouldn’t listen to my orders. So if you had the same goal, I wasn’t able to see it. And once I got knocked out, and you got back in charge, you did exactly what I thought you would. You took risks, and you got in the papers, and you got a few medals too.”

“So you thought that I was risking everyponys lives for fame.”

“Well Manifest, I knew you were risking everyponys lives. I read the after action report for the Wrecker, and I would have done exactly what Sure Shot had suggested. Disable and burn my tank, ambush the Wrecker, and drive out of there as fast as possible. But you stayed around to fix the tank, and nearly got half the platoon killed. And they gave you a second class Star and a third class Moon for it. So I thought that it was for fame. But what really convinced me that you were some sort of a glory hound was the fact that you were in the gunner’s seat when The Wrecker was destroyed. ‘He wanted to do it himself’ I thought, ‘instead of have the credit go to my gunner and just have him give the order.’ So, until today I thought that you were doing all this to become some sort of celebrity.”

“But now you don’t?”

The Duke shook his head. “I didn't say that, it’s just that now I don’t know. You say that you don’t care for the news, and the fact that they aren’t here supports that. If you cared for the medals, I think that you would be wearing your dress uniform wherever you go, and you aren’t. I don’t even know that you do it to get noticed.”

“The nurse recognized me, and I didn’t even know what to say to her. I didn’t even think that she would, I mean, noponys ever recognised me from out of nowhere before that. She had to coach me through how to respond.”

“So you don’t.” the Duke said. He propped his chin on his hoof. “Manifest, if you don’t do it for fame, then why the hay do you take all those risks?”

Manifest chuckled, “Honestly, half the time I’m kinda forced to.”

“And the other half?”

“I think it’s the right thing to do.”

“Really, that’s all?”

Manifest thought for a moment, thinking of all of his time in combat, and more importantly if there was anything that he would change. There wasn’t. Why he did things didn’t matter in contrast, only what he did.

“That’s all.”

“Well Manifest, if you don’t take a single thing away from this apart from what I’m about to say that’s fine, but you need to hear this. If the war continues, and you ever have to make one of those choices again, you need to stop and think hard on if what you’re doing is the right call. Because ponies live and die on your choices, and regardless of why you do it if you keep on going the way you’re going somepony will pay for it. Can you do that lieutenant?”

Manifest didn’t answer immediately. He thought that he always made the right calls, and that he had weighed the risks when he had to make them. But as he thought, he remembered a sickening moment when they destroyed the Wrecker. For a moment, he thought that he had gotten everypony killed. Perhaps caution was the better part of valor. But perhaps caution was also the wrong answer. Indecision could be just as dangerous.

“I don’t know, but I’ll try.”

The Duke shook his head. “Manifest, that’s not good enough. I need your word.”

“My word that I won’t put ponies at risk?”

“Unnecessary risk,” the Duke said. “And you’d better make your definition of necessary strict.”

“Duke, I can’t do that. Nopony knows what the hay is necessary in this war and we both know it. What you think is unjustifiable I may think is the right thing to do, and I can’t change the way that I think in order to meet that. All that I can do is think over the risks more, and I’ll try.

“Well you better try damn hard, for others sakes above your own.” The Duke leaned back in his chair. “That’s all I had to say Manifest. I just needed you to hear that before you go. Maybe it’ll do you some good, someday.”

Manifest smiled faintly. For once, the Duke was just a pony. If he wanted a positive memory of him, this would be it. But even as he thought this, Manifest felt frustration. One good memory was more than he expected, but it would never be able to redeem all the bad ones. Whenever he remembered the Duke, he knew that he would remember the negative before the positive. His smiled faded.

“Duke, do you know how much trouble you would have saved us if we had a talk like this 5 weeks ago?”

The Duke looked back at him, then looked down and pinned his ears. He looked… ashamed. He glanced back up at Manifest, but couldn’t meet his stare. “It would have been a lot.” He said finally. He faced Manifest again, and this time didn’t break away. “Manifest, I admit that I could have done things better. Before this, I never lead anything.”

Manifest wasn’t going to take that for an excuse. “Neither had I.”

“Well I guess that you’re just better at it than I am.” The Duke retorted “I’m trying to explain myself, the least you could do is listen.”

“And I’m listening.”

“Good. Manifest, I was a grade school teacher before the war. And whenever a colt would get out of line I’d try and go easy on him, but that never seemed to work. So I’d go hard. I thought that would be the answer here too, but it wasn’t. I felt like it was the only way to get you to do what I wanted.”

“Duke, it sounds like you’re trying to say something that’s a lot easier to say than you’re making it sound.”

The Duke nodded. “Manifest. I’m”- he paused, looked up at the ceiling, then back to him. “I’m sorry. I made things a lot harder on you than they needed to be. But you understand why?”

“I understand. I don’t agree with it, but I understand.” The Duke sighed in relief, and Manifest felt like he sighed for both of them. It felt like someone opened the shades on a dark room. But again, it wasn’t total absolution. The Duke may have said a lot of things, but Manifest said some too. Their animosity towards each other was a two way street.

“Duke, while we’re doing this, I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

“You’d better be.” The Duke said gruffly.

“I am.”

“Well I’ll accept your apology.” The Duke said. “Even though you said you don’t give a damn about if I get better or not.”

“I do, I was just mad when I said that. How is it, by the way?”

“Manifest, my whole life has been taken up by this damn injury, I’d rather not talk about it in one of the few breaks that I’ll get.”

“Are they at least treating you well?”

“Just fine. The rooms awful though, it’s just white and cream and miserable ponies. Can’t wait to leave.”

“When will that be?”

“Oh, maybe two weeks. Then I’ll be heading back to Baltimare, probably will go back to teaching.”

At this point Manifest remembered something, and snorted back a laugh. The Duke raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny about that, Manifest?”

“After the battle of Canterlot, Sure Shot said that he was sure you were a teacher, and now I get to tell him he was right!”

“How’d he guess?”

The smile left Manifest’s face. “I don’t think that you’d want to know.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” the Duke said, dejectedly. “So Sure Shot didn’t care for me either.”

Manifest didn’t answer, but it was still answer enough. The Duke nodded dejectedly. “Well, how is he anyway?”

“He was fine last time I saw him, everypony in the platoons now on extended leave.”

“Everypony else?”

“You were one of two casualties Duke. Your gunner got some shrapnel during the fight with the Wrecker.”

“I read the after action reports, I know.”

“He was back in combat the next day. It was minor enough that they were able to fix him with a healing potion.”

“Lucky him.” the Duke said bitterly. “Not that I’d wish this upon him, but it is miserable.” He stared out the window at Canterlot and sighed. “I miss the view.” He looked around, then pointed out the window. “So, you’re heading over there for a lunch with the princesses?”

Manifest looked out at Canterlot castle. “Yeah, scares the hay outta me.”

“Really?”

“I’d almost rather be in combat in the Flyer than going to a fancy meal like that.”

The Duke raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Only have ever been to one meal where I had to dress up and be high class. I kinda hated it. I knew no one there, I was sure I looked like crap, I didn’t really know my etiquette and thought that I was making a fool of myself. So yeah. At least in the Flyer I usually know what the hay I’m doing. This is all strange to me.”

“Like the press.”

“Oh Celestia.” Manifest moaned. “They’re gonna be there too.” He shook his head “I feel like just about all of them already know what they’re going to write about me, and they just ask me the questions to check a box. And some of them I wouldn’t give the time of day if they asked me for it.”

“Like who.”

“The Canterlot Crusader. Did you read the editorial the day after the first battle of Canterlot?” the Duke shook his head. “It made my blood boil. That reporter that I told to buck off, he was from the Crusader.”

“Hmm, that’s funny.”

“What’s so funny about it.”

“That was about 3 days after the Wrecker, right?”

“Yeah”

“Manifest, you may not like the press, but they sure like you. The way that story read, you weren’t some angry stallion that told a reporter off. You were some kind of great selfless hero who ‘wouldn’t take the time for an interview when that time could be used liberating the country’.”

“That’s basically what I said, but it sounds like it isn’t how I said it.”

The Duke nodded understandingly “ if you don’t like the press, why did you name your tank ‘the Fillydelphia Flyer’?” isn’t that a newspaper?”

“Yeah. I just thought it was a good name. I was from Fillydelphia, the tank was fast. It made sense. I worked there too, before the war. Wrote film reviews in my spare time that got featured.”

“Film reviews?”

“Yeah. And I operated a projector at a theater.”

“So you hate the press but not your local paper?”

“Just about. They changed their banner from a mail-pegasus to my tank for a while. Amber saved a few issues with that for me. And apparently they’re raising a fund to have my tank be placed outside their offices as a war memorial.”

“Amber?”

“My marefriend. You have anypony?”

“My wife Petunia. She visited me a few weeks ago but had to go back to Baltimare. You don’t want to hear about that. What happened to your tank?”

“Broke down during the parade through Vanhoover. It was one of 13 left. And only 13 of 90 got there to begin with.”

“At least they lasted as long as they did.” the Duke said. He looked back out the window for a moment. “Lunch with the princesses.” He muttered. He glanced sideways at Manifest. “You don’t really know your etiquette?”

“Not quite, no.”

The Duke turned his whole body to manifest and leaned forward. “Well Manifest Destiny, I am a teacher, so if you have the time I’ll give you a crash course. Manifest looked at his watch.

“I think I do.”

“It’ll cost you though. You have to buy me brunch.”

“I think I can do that for my old CO.”

They spent about the next hour chatting, and when the Duke got his meal he walked Manifest through the basics of high society manners. Around 11:00 Manifest left, and the Duke went back to the recovery ward. They gave him a crossword, but his heart wasn’t really in it.
But just before lunch, the nurse came over to him.

“You have a good meeting?”

“It went better than I would have thought.”

“I’m real glad to hear that, I didn’t think it would go too well from what you and him were saying. Would you like to go for a trot?”

“I don’t think I’m up for trotting yet, but I’ll go for a walk.”

They walked slowly up the stairs, which was hard for the Duke, but good exercise, until they reached the top floor. They went down the hall until they came to a room, and the nurse opened the door. It was a small room with only one bed, but a fantastic view of the city of Canterlot. Yes, the walls were still that awful cream, and the roof the same cheap tile, but there was privacy here, and the view was great.

“We got you a new room!” the nurse said happily. “Do you like it?”

“Quite.” The Duke said, and that was all.

“Great, I’ll let you get situated and get your things.” With that she turned and left.

On the bed there was a letter, a single piece of paper folded in half with a single word written on it. ‘Duke.’ He trotted over, and kicked it over with his hoof.

‘Duke,

I asked them to move you to a better room, and I think that I have enough pull to make it happen. If you want to contact me in the future, send a letter to 376 Churchill Street in Fillydelphia, and address it to Manifest Destiny. If not, I understand, and want you to know that I enjoyed our meeting and that you aren’t the most miserable pony I’ve ever met. If you were to write, I would be glad to have your correspondence. I hope that the room is adequate, and hope that you get home to Petunia soon.

Manifest Destiny’

The edges of the Duke’s lips curled up slightly, so little that the nurse who had come back with his personal items didn’t notice the change. She set them on the bed and closed the door behind her, and only then did the Duke silent say “thanks.”