March of a Century

Gregorios and the century marched through the main street of Chandleridge, unopposed by the pony populace, who cowered in fear at any place they could reach, homes, wooden crates, anything would do.

The thoughts that transferred through Gregorios’ mind boggled him.  He has been trained to only look upon his soldiers with care, and the rest with contempt.  Despite that and his experience in warfare -crushing plebian rebels- he felt bad when fighting against those pony soldiers.  They were outmatched in all categories, ill-prepared, and unloyal, but against all of that, they still fought against the century with courage.  If it was up to him, there would be peace here, but he doesn’t decide that, only how to execute his orders.

The main street looks almost entirely decrepit, if you could call it a street that is.  Dirt instead of cobble paved the road that the century marched on with small obsolete huts built on the sides of the street.  Some of the huts were made of stone, others of wood, but they all held their small families inside of them.  Troughs sat about filled with clean water carried from the rivers and streams nearby, each with buckets for families to take for drinking water.

The unmodernized town was certainly a change for the Severians.  They were used to giant, proud buildings, aqueducts towering over them, clean cobbled roads under their sandals.  What as even stranger were the ponies hiding about.  The century is used to being taunted, yelled at, booed, or cheered and adored when marching on a street.  Instead of those normal reactions, the ponies hid in fear from them.  It confused them slightly, they thought the ponies would revolt and resist the occupation.

Ahead of the century’s path a pair of Earth Ponies stood on the side of the road, looking about desperately for something valuable to them.  The continued to frantically look about as the Century continued the march, coming close to being in front of the pony couple.

“Mother!”  A small and frightened voice called from the opposite side of the rode.

Gregorios halted the century’s march and turned to find the source of the sound.  A small pony stood looking towards the ponies across the road; a young filly now halted the entire march in her search for her parents.

“Slate!  Just stay there, we’ll be right there!”  The father yelled to her daughter from across the road.

The filly, instead of listening dashed across the road, passed the first legionnaire on her side of the road.  Some of the legionnaires dashed forward, gladuis’ pointed at the filly.

“No, please!”  The mother and father shouted while dashing forward into the road.

The father was immediately bashed by a legionnaire’s shield, and the mother, shoved back by another legionnaire’s free hand.

Gregorios maintained his attention on the young fill, unaware of her parents on the other side of the road.

“Mihi, Equine!”  The legionnaire screamed before stabbing his sword down into the stallion’s head, and then ripping it back out.  The legionnaire then dashed over to thrust the sword into the mare’s chest.

The mare let out a scream from the pain of the gladius piercing through her skin.  She began to hyperventilate as she looked up at the legionnaire, being looked down upon by a terrifying expression of hate and anger.  The mare then looked to her daughter as her legs started to buckle and her eyes brimmed with tears.

The filly looked on with her mouth, hung open in shock.  Gregorios also turned around to find the situation as well, with him widening his own eyes in surprise, before looking down at the filly, now tearing up on her own.  He turned his attention back to find the mare placing a hoof onto the blade to steady herself as she attempted to speak.

“I… love you.”  The mare’s body slumped over, letting her limbs fall numbly onto the ground.

The legionnaire pulled his gladius back out and spit down onto the body.

“Congue equitum.”  The legionnaire then turned back to the rest of the century, which in turn looked towards Gregorios as he grit his teeth in anger.

“Dirty horse?”  Gregorios asked, seething with anger.  “Dirty horse?!”

The young filly huddled herself into a ball, crying quietly to herself as Gregorios yelled at the murderous legionnaire.  He began to yell in Latin, pointing and stomping onto the ground in rage.  Two other legionnaires took the one soldier by his arms and held him firmly, knocking away his shield and sword.

“Et comminuit testam, et sacramentum! Agemus cum postea!”  The legionnaires then dragged their comrade off as he pleaded his cause desperately.

The rest of the century kept their gaze on their centurion as he looked upon the two dead Earth Ponies on the dirt road, their blood forming a small puddle around the two bodies.

He shook his head in a disapproving matter.  Two civilians were now killed under his command and in front of their own child no less.  Gregorios waved his hand and two more troops quickly pulled the bodies to the side of the road.

“Lorem sepulchrum habet.”  He commanded for the couple to have a proper burial… for what respect it may give.

He then turned his attention to the filly and crouched down, still much taller than her.  He slowly placed his onto her head, uttering a gasp out of her as she retreated into herself more.

“It’s alright.”  He softly stated, pulling his hand back to give her room.  “I mean no harm, unlike the other.”

The filly slowly cracked open one of her eyes to look at the centurion before uncurling herself slightly.

Gregorios finally had time to look at the further details of the filly.  Her coat, a dark shade of blue, a dark silver mane resembling the hue of slate, and her eyes were a shade of amber, standing out from her otherwise dark colored body.  Her mane and tail remained unkempt and poor, possibly due to her family being poor... and Earth Ponies.

“Here, do you have anywhere to go, any… relatives, friends, maybe?”

Instead of replying she averted her gaze from the centurion and remained locked onto the ground below.

Gregorios let out a sigh and looked back to his century.  His legionnaires returned sympathetic looks to him, some even nodding in approval, as if knowing what he was about to do.  He turned back and looked down at the filly.

“Alright, come along then, I’ll find you somewhere… or at least someone.”  He then carefully scooped the filly up into his arms, cradling her to be hidden behind his large shield, to avoid the sight of other ponies.

“Etiam in itinere!”  He shouted out and the century quickly resumed the march.

“What is your name?”  Gregorios quickly asked.

The filly remained silent for a small time, possibly still surprised at the human's actions.

“Slate… my name is slate.”  She states quietly, rather wary of the wooden shield blocking her sight from the road so she can only look up at the centurion.

“Well, Slate, my name is Gregorios.  Gregorios Democratis.”  He glanced down to see Slate looking back up, her easing her expression slightly.

“Gre… gori?”  What type of strange name is that?”  She asked, intrigued at his long and complex name compared to hers.

He responded with a chuckle.  “And Slate isn’t strange?”

“At least my name makes sense.  My mane is a shade of slate.”  She giggled slightly, calming the centurion.

They continued on quietly, with the steady sound of the legionnaires steps giving a steady pace for them listen to… at least until Slate spoke again.

“Greg... orios?”  She correctly stated his name for a first.

“Yes, Slate?”  He returned, keeping his eyes ahead on the road.

She remained silent, attempting to form her words properly.

“Are my parents…?”

“Yes… yes they are.”  He already prepared for the question.

“Why?  Why would this happen?”

Gregorios sighed before starting to explain.  He wasn’t exactly the spiritual type, but it seems as the only valid explanation.

“There are some humans who have certain beliefs with our gods.  One of those is about how we can’t use magic… at least now.  In the beginnings of our empire, it is said that our kings and queens could wield magic.  Harvest entire crops by themselves, stop rebellions before they even happen, and even free the old and sick from the maws of death.  Now, all of this is nice, except for where it gets bad.  It is thought that those abilities were stolen from our people, by a spirit.  A spirit of tricks and evil, and he brought our magic and spread it about the world, to watch our empire fall to our own magic.  Now, it gets worse, it is said that this spirit was one of a pony… one of your alicorns to be exact.”

Gregorios then looked down to find Slate paying vivid attention to his words, which he then looked back at the road as he spoke.

“He gave most of the magic to the ponies, making them more prosperous than us for a time.  There was famine that year, and many… didn’t make it.  It is said, that our empire almost collapsed that year as well.  Now there is a large group of humans that have such spite for the pony form that they can only feel contempt for them, even if they don’t use magic.  It now appears some of them have made it into the military… and he went off on your parents disrupting the march.”

He looked back down at the filly as she continued looking at him in intrigue.

“I’m sorry about all of this, and still that may not even be accurate explanation of the tale, because it most definitely isn’t a justification for your parent’s… passing.”

Slate then curled herself up as she felt the pain of the loss again.  Gregorios then pulled her in for a soft hug, surprising her and eliciting a gasp.

“Why are you… being nice?”  Slate asks, returning the hug.

“No creature, human or pony should have to go through that pain.  You’re a child as well.  It is unacceptable in any morality.”  He saw the palace only a small distance away, revealing an end to the long march.

“For who did it, what will happen to him?”  Slate asks, wanting more information.

“He has broken our sacramentum for killing of the innocent.  He is to be whipped in front of the century by me, and then discharged.”  He stated in a serious tone, before looking back down at the filly.  “Come along, young one, our stop is here.”

Overlooking the city of Chandleridge, a mountain stood tall, giving a good view of the town’s main road.  A small path ascended up the mountain to its summit and on the summit stood a unicorn.

He wore a large, decorative blue cloak, sparkled with various constellations and bells, giving it a regal look, and his large wizard-like hat gave the same vibe.  His coat was a shade of grey, and a long white beard hangs from his chin, along with his old white hair under his hat.  His green eyes scanned across the small town, taking in the current situation.

This is the great wizard known as Star Swirled the Bearded.

“Hmm, maybe there is hope for this after all…”  He stated, looking at the centurion carrying the Earth Pony filly.