General Winter

by SONBoomer

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Original Character, Trixie, Comedy, Gilda, Adventure, Crossover, Sunset Shimmer, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 41800

Whilst representing Equestria, their rulers and mentors for a festival (and lending a hoof), Twilight, Trixie and Sunset stumble upon an old legend of the Northern Region... That just may be true enough to change the world as they know it.

The Northern Region of the Equestria, (un)officially entitled as the "Union of Communalist Council Republics" or UCCR... Is not your spot for a summer holiday...
The winter, though? Makes the place famous. Infamous, even. Makes you wonder how such a vast, icy place can be populated, or have an organized government...

Doesn't matter, though. The point is, it's populated, and it has it's own government.
And Princess Celestia is absolutely terrified because of it!
Even though they're just about the nicest, most honest and equane ponies you'll ever meet on... Well, just about the whole Northern Hemisphere.

Anyways, Celly and her sisters are going for a diplomatic meeting, and they've decided to send their apprentices ahead...

In their defense, I must state: they had NO IDEA about the events that were to unfold! Honest!

Published 2014-03-02 21:40:08 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-25 22:19:53 UTC

The three pupils

The silver-gray train rocketed through the snowy mountainside. It's engine, the "North-Equestria Phantom", as the press called it, roared down on it's set of tracks, pulling the long line of articulated, triple-boogied coaches with all it's might. An enormous machine, it's pair of eighteen-cylinder diesel engines blasted, revving every turn of a millisecond, the turbocharge whirring and wailing, competing with the deafening sound of the wind. Like an arrowhead, the locomotive was both beautiful, and terrifying in the same time, it's silvery sides imprinted with the insignia of the Union's Railways: an engine wheel surrounded by the blade of a sickle, with a hammer serving as it's coupling rod.

The rails, albeit far broader than the Equestrian standard, still shook under the train's weight and speed, as if trembling in fear and awe before the machination's might. The embankment they stood upon was a frozen dam of ballast and other rocks, only supported by some heavily deteriorated, leaning ferro-concrete walls and the murderously cold and surprisingly damp air: even during a snowstorm, the air remained moist and cold enough to cover anything with a thick layer of sleet ice. The chromed train was a sight that surprised even the tall, sharp mountains themselves, as they did not echo the tremendous cacophony of the engine and the coaches.

The mist beneath, which persisted to exist even when the sun broke through the dark clouds of the region, or when the thunderstorms of summer deafened the valley with the echoes of thunder, eagerly reverberated by the mountain rocks. Now, as the blizzard became even more hostile than ever, anyone who would've been able to stay alive for more than a minute in the desolate wasteland of Долина Мертвой Зимы , the Valley of Dead Winter, could have sworn to see the engine smile, as it sped down the line like a bolt of lightning, leaving the Frozen Hell to it's own lonesome existence.

The light gray, cigarette smoke-like fumes poured out from the exhaust ports at the rear of the engine, while the gill-like railings of the air intake whistled sharply near the front. The smoke was thick, as thick as that of a steam engine's, yet it seemed to be a streak of light beneath the overcast sky, which trailed above the chromed stainless steel.

Within the coach, the color of the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling was that of deep crimson, as the trademark blood red felt drapery, silk and velvet produced at Niva, coated the interior of all passenger wagons - there were no classes in the Northern rail system, which many thought of as a bit over the top, attempting to bring social "classlessness" into practical use. It was comfortable, still. Lavish, even. For pauper and prince alike. This was, of course, much welcomed by the three mares and the baby dragon, seated within the middle coach.

They could've picked one with a cabin, but they felt that the excessive... Redness of it all would be smothering in such a compacted space, and instead, they searched for a coach that was half empty - they set up their "camp" in the compartment behind the pivoting joint.

They were unicorns, one lavender with a darker, purplish-black mane and tail, with with two stripes, one neon pink and the other deep purple, her eyes currently resting on the pages of a particularly thick book. Beside her sat the aforementioned dragonspawn, coated with green and purple scales, currently snoozing, his nose lit by the perpetually flare of a green Bunsen-flame. On the opposite seat slept an azure mare, using her own, star-splattered purple cape as a blanket, her hat covering her face, but failing to cover the silvery-blue mane poking out from underneath it. Next to her was a light orange mare, with fiery red and yellow crest and tail, staring out into the inhospitable landscape, it's cold trapped outside by the many layers of drapery, steel, wiring, riveting, and, in her case, a black-tinted, thermally insulated window.

They've been in this position since the two had woken up, waiting for the other two to rise from their slumber as well. Uninterrupted, the lavender mare read her book, the fiery one kept staring out into the misty, mountainous landscape.

Well, that was until the azure one began snoring.

"Aw, come on!"

"Trixie!" Sunset hissed, kicking into the blanket. It yelped, and the aforementioned tumbled onto the ground. The baby dragon also came to his senses, and glanced around...

"Huh-wha...?" he muttered, shivering slightly "Are we there yet?"

"No, Spike, not yet..." Sunset Shimmer replied, before glaring down at the flailing amalgamation of clothes and pony, as if it was it's, or correctly, her fault that they've yet to arrive.

"Was Trixie snoring again?" the dragonling yawned.

And on that cue...

"I CERTAINLY DID NOT!" the blue mare yelled, finally shoving her own cape off her face, glaring up at the fiery unicorn indignantly. Then, she snuck a quick glance at the lavender mare.

Twilight merely nodded, and returned to her book, her assistant stretching beside her.

"It sure is quite far away..." Spike commented. As it should be expected of all his state-the-obvious comments, the retort was caustic in tone.

"Of course it's far, you dolt!" Sunset hissed "We ARE going to freaking Stalliongrad, for crying out loud!"

"Sunset, calm down." Twilight muttered, not looking up from her book.

"Just because it's name doesn't appeal for your militant neo-feminist views, you shouldn't curse it!" Trixie retorted.

"Trixie, that was uncalled for." Twilight mumbled, turning the page.

"What does that has to do with everything?!" Sunset snapped "I just wanna get off this damn train, go into town, and get this done and over with!"

"Sunset, please calm down." the lavender mare droned, before adding "Also, for your knowledge, trains of the Union's Railways have been equipped with a banquet of commodities, such as a buffet, cafeteria and restaurant, dining car, sleeping units, and, of course, restrooms." she smiled mischievously, having successfully drawn the others' attention to the tightly closed legs and fidgeting of the light orange mare.

With a huff, Sunset departed, towards the end of the coach, but as soon as she was out of sight, they could hear her hooves picking up the pace, as she rushed towards sweet relief.

The three of them laughed, before Trixie got off her seat, dropping her hat on it.

"Well, I'm off as well. The Grrreat and Powerful TRRRIXIE... Needs some peanut butter crackers!" and she trotted off towards the buffet.

Twilight sighed, and closed her book, memorizing the page number with a quick glance. Leaning back, she stared out through the window, into the blizzard in front, the mountains behind, the mist beneath and the clouds above.

Two more hours.

Even with the military-grade tracks at their expense, the Transequestrian Express wouldn't be able reach the Northern Region in a day's worth of time , especially with the amount of detours it had to take to avoid traffic congestion, of all things. Rails or not, the vast majority of Equestria was making it's way to Stalliongrad, hoping to celebrate the first ever Winterval in ages, where the Equestrian Triarchy and the Union of Councils would celebrate together, for the first time.

Sure, the supposed "Cold War" between the two superpower neighbors had long since turned lukewarm, almost cozy, even. Still, the wall that once visualized the ideological border between the two states was now nothing more than a safety precaution, waiting to be used in case of some unusually devastating disaster, such as a viral zombie outbreak, mass flooding, or reactor meltdowns that would otherwise leave both sides as one, toxic wasteland.

With the "Era of Dictators" far behind them, and with the two OTHER princesses joining the Equestrian Royal Court, the political climate of the Equestrian "Maneland" seemed to stabilize nicely. To crown this progress (a bit hastily, according to some), the Supreme Council and the Royal Tribune decided to hold the once Pan-Equestrian tradition of the Winterval celebration, an event mostly originating from the North, that thanked winter itself for allowing the fauna and flora to rest, and leave the ponies of the land at ease. Celebrated throughout mid-winter, the tradition faded during the First Pan-Equine War, especially after the November Revolution, immediately followed by the Winter War, in which - for some reason - the cold, harsh weather only seemed to aid the Communalist Red Army, while it pushed back the Tsarist/Nationalist White Guard into the top, left-hand side of the country, as the Anarchist Insurgent Army tearing up the oppressive peace down south beneath them. In the end, the borders were set within. Eventually, however, the Reds' luck ran out, as the brutal climate forced all fronts into a ceasefire.

The Anarchists liberated the whole of Yucrane, and since their views were not to different from the original ideas of Coal Marks and Friendly Angles, the "War Commissariat" - as it was called back then - allowed theis "political experiment" to continue.

As for the White Guard... Well, in the end, they were offered land and peace, as long as they didn't bother anyone within the newly formed Union. Outnumbered, exhausted, and at the end of their resources, they gladly accepted the offer, bringing an end to the civil war. Their capital, Minx, still proudly bore the pristine white flag, the symbol of Guard movement, the new flag of Belostrana. For some time, it was a common dare among ponies and griffons alike to ask a Snownorthern - or "Snorthern", as the former White Guard members were called - to explain why they were flying the flag of defeat. After a few nasty cases of vendetta, the dares stopped.

That was over a hundred years ago.

Forty years ago, the organization of such an event like a Pan-Equestrian Winterval would've been financially, politically and physically impossible.

Thirty years ago, the idea that all members of the Union of Councils would have to work together would've been equally impossible.

Twenty years ago, Sunset would've been forced to hold it all the way to Stalliongrad, and Trixie would've starved... And no doubt, even Spike would be kept awake by the loud rattling screeching of the overtaxed, outdated coaches.

Ten years ago, the idea of all three Princesses visiting would've been physically impossible, to say the least...

...But reforms are, indeed, quite useful things...

As the train left the isolated mountain range behind, Twilight was able to see the threadbare taiga of the region. Feeble-looking deciduous trees, groaning, bending at the will of the fierce wind, twisted and gnarled to a point where even getting a better look at them would make a pony scream in agony - feeling the pain of battling the harsh weather for countless years.

Yes, this was it.

The Northern Region.

The Union of Communalist Council Republics.

Recognized by the vast majority of the planet as an independent country in a close, almost "intimate" alliance with Equestria, and as an autonomous region by the former.

Twilight sighed.

She loved to study - that was what got her into Celestia's School of Gifted Unicorns, after all... And then some.

But the feeling of experience, being able to see, hear, feel, smell and even taste whatever she had learned about, to visit the places she had studied in books, atlases and other documents, to be there, rather than just reading about it.

She allowed Spike to snuggle up to her side - it was getting increasingly difficult, as Spike was aging only thrice as slow as a pony, and even this difference was steadily decreasing. Approaching his early teens, the dragon was no longer a humble little ball of scales and flames that Princess Celestia tended to like a loving mother, but more like the little brother of the three unicorn mares - and slowly, but surely outgrowing them...

There was a quiet sniffle in the coach...

Followed by a quick, quiet whine...

As if somepony was quietly crying...

"Can't believe I haven't noticed the sign on the way in..." Sunset groaned, before she heard the noise "Huh?"

"WATCH IN AWE!" Trixie declared, stepping back into the section from her trip to the buffet car "The Great and Generous Trixie has bought enough for ALL of you!" she then heard the sniffles and hiccups as well "Oh?"

Instantly, the ran back to their seats. They knew what they would see, but still, like every other time, the sight hurt them deeper than expected.

Twilight Sparkle sat up in her seat, hugging the still sleeping drake close to her chest, rocking back and forth gently, as tears streaked her face.

The two other mares let out a sorrow sigh, and sat beside their teary friend, trying to soothe her ruffled feelings.

"It's OK, Twilight." Trixie whispered, petting the mare gently "It's alright."

"No, it's not..." the lavender pony stated.

"Look, Twilight..." Sunset murmured "You gave your best, and you did what you could. No-one could've expected that this'll... Happen..."

"Not even the Princess..."

"What?"

"HOW COULD PRINCESS CELESTIA ALLOW THIS?!" the mare yelled, making her friends jump "How could she allow me to do such a thing?!"

"It wasn't the Princess, Twilight, it was the School Board Presidency..." Trixie argued "They banned the dragon egg test as soon as word has gotten out of Spike's... Condition..."

"Like that would help him any bit..." the mare grumbled, her tristful tears replaced by angry ones.

"Twilight..." Sunset began "I have trust in you. We all do. You rarely make mistakes, and there wasn't one that you weren't able to correct. You WILL find the solution!"

"I've heard that before..." Twilight growled.

Sunset's eyes turned cold.

"...Or I will murder you."

Slowly, but surely, the two dumbstruck mares turned to their fiery colleague. There was a certain shine in Sunset's eyes.

She wasn't joking...

Their somber mood was interrupted by the engine's horn.

It was í deep sound, like a ship's horn, but soft, like a train's whistle. A composure-breaking, soft sorrow, as if one had taken a peek under the mask of the mighty machine, finally seeing the lonely night train underneath the chrome and speed. It surprised many, and, in a poetic way, urged you to think.

Suddenly, Twilight felt a grip tightening on her waist.

Looking down, she saw that Spike had snuggled up to her in his sleep.

Smiling, she held him close once more, before staring out through the window.

"Seems like we still managed to make up for lost time." she murmured, before gently waking the dragon with a few nudges "Wake up, Spike. We're here!"

As they came around the bend, they looked ahead.

Before them towered the city of Stalliongrad, it's collective farms greeting them on their way in. A sharp mountain, one of the many smaller, South-North oriented ranges found up and down among the wide empty planes, provided a blue background to the city, as the station came into view.

"Get your luggage ready, girls..." Sunset ordered, allowing herself a small, confident smile "We've got a Winterval to set!"

"Празда"

The elevator stopped.

"This thing is small..." Spike stated, for the umpteenth time.

"No manure, Share Lock." Sunset growled, as they stepped out from the cramped cab (and did a relieving cat-stretch on their way out).

The hallway was dimly lit, green linoleum covered the floor, and dark wood planks covering the wall up to two thirds of it's height from the floor. The actual wall was whitewashed... White...

Trixie stepped forward baldly, and glanced around.

It didn't took long for her to spot the door that read: Центральный Офис - "Head Office".

"Onwards!" she cried, galloping forward the door.

The orange unicorn sighed "Not this schoolfilly crud again..."

Then, with a wry smile, she galloped after her.

Twilight giggled, and lowered her back slightly, allowing Spike to jump on.

He was growing a tad bit heavier every now and then, but at his current size, he was still easy to carry.

...Though...

It probably won't be long before he grows too heavy to be carried.

As he grows older.

Into a mature dragon.

Roughly a century before he was supposed to do...

"You OK, Twilight?" Spike asked.

The mare shook her head, successfully getting the forming tears out of her eyes.

With a sigh, she turned back to look at her assistant.

"Yeah." she said, softly and quickly, before trotting off after her friends.

The three of them were basically classmates, colleagues, allies, rivals and friends, all in one... Three...

Personal students of the three princesses, they practiced the three major castes of magic, along with other useful and necessary subjects, and hanged out with the three most powerful beings in... Well, the mortal world... Yeah, that seemed just about right... 'Twas a safe assumption.

"Head Office" was a ponies' office.

And by that, I mean it was used by many, many ponies.

Wooden bureaus everywhere, with chinovniks hunchbacked over them, as they clopped furiously...

...On their typewriters...

Just what did you expect?

Young apparatchiks were running about, pushing carts filled with papers, magnet tapes, film, and other mcguffins... Secretaries, male and female (mostly mares, to compensate the musky young paperboys and the middle-aged paper-pushers) roamed around, delivering certain documents personally. Through a doorway that lacked it's namesake, another room could be seen, filled with ponies and griffons wearing white lab coats, whilst they roamed around huge, brass-ornamented computers.

Looking around, as they stood in the opening left between four bureau-battalions, the very center of the cart-highway, standing at the central point of the wooden floor (with embedded green carpets), the four of them looked around.

"There!" Spike yelled, pointing ahead.

There, on the wall opposite to the one which through they came in (not literally THROUGH it, of course), was a padded door with a simple iron plate on it, reading Верховный Комитет.

"Supreme Committee." said Trixie, reading it "This is it!"

"Let's enter then, shall we?" Twilight asked, smiling, as they began to trot towards the door.

"You know..." Trixie began "I presumed that they will be among the other clerks..."

"They're not bureaucrats, Trixie..." Twilight replied "They're politicians. Well, political leaders would be a better term - they do more work than any of their colleagues from the south..."

"Apart from the Princesses..."

"Apart from the Princesses, of course." the mare added "Besides, the Supreme Committee is the legislating tier of the Supreme Council, whilst the Commissariat of the State is the executing tier. The official "Supreme Council" room with the round table, computers and large screens with maps and other miscellany is in Mosscow, but the titles "Commissariat of the State" and "Supreme Council" wander from city to city, depending on which is the elected capital."

"Huh... Why is that?" Spike asked, as they arrived to the door.

"That's because the Supreme Council has a veto right above all councils, and has the authority to commence action and make legislation. During war, the Commissariat of the State can give out "Alpha orders" that are both legislative and executing commands. The Supreme Committee can do the same in case of a sudden economic depression. But the Supreme Council is takes absolute control in case of an emergency greater than any war and economic collapse. So far, it took over only once...

The two other mares flinched...

"The war..." Sunset exhaled.

"Indeed..." the lavender unicorn replied, knocking on the door... Which was about as effective as trying to bust down the door the Equestrian National Vault with a toothpick.

The soft padding absorbed the knocks...

"Huh..." Twilight muttered, bemused...

"Try the doorbell, genius!" her fiery compatriot hissed, pressing the button herself.

"Hey... Girls... Hasn't it gotten... Quiet, all of a sudden?" Spike asked.

"Quiet?" the azure mare asked back "Yeah, sorta..."

"Girls..." Twilight whispered. She sounded quite nervous "They're all... Looking at us..."

"What?!"

"You heard the mare..." Spike nodded, swallowing hard. Having been sitting backwards on equine step-sister, he got a clear view of the eerily quiet office.

All ponies, clerks, secretaries and typers, paused their work, and were now staring at them, incredulously.

They have been waiting for a mere two minutes... The silence was growing intense...

"Umm..." Sunset croaked, trying in vain to end to unnerving tacet of the office.

There was a quiet 'click'.

The door began to open.

"Well... Let's head inside..." Trixie murmured, entering not-as-boldly as she did before. The others followed suit.

Twilight was the last, and on her back, still facing the office, Spike was relieved to see the white collar mass return to their work, as if nothing had happened.

"At least they weren't petrified..." he thought to himself, shuddering when a memory came to his mind "That was blood-curdling..."

"Ах, добро пожаловать!"

The three mares stopped in a line, and Spike jumped off Twilight's back to join them.

The room was spacious... It expanded left and right, while the wall opposite to the door was surprisingly close.

Before them, an oblong shape could be seen in the middle of the room, taking up most of the floor. In the left-hoof corner, there were chairs stacked upon each other.

The large desk was right in front of them, and behind it, a huge window dominated the wall, giving a clear view of... Well, the cloudy sky, from this angle. The office building was not the tallest in the city (that would've been the "Tall House", a 20-story prefab high-rise that has been left abandoned for the last 28 years because of a cheap insulating gel that eroded with time, rendering the building dangerous to use. The City Council and the Architectural Commissariat was absolutely furious because of it at the time, whilst the Infrastructure Commissariat was laughing it's flanks off). But in the area where it was located, it was the tallest building, overlooking the vast majority of the city, with the factories and covered farmlands in the distance, and the mountain to the northeast.

The behind the desk stood three indistinct equines - the faint light coming from the window was enough to make them seem nothing more than pony-shaped silhouettes.

Cautiously, they walked forward, mentally readying themselves for every possible thing.

It was unwise, but they couldn't help it: they remembered the visage of leaders - Supreme Secretaries, Premieres, Head Commissars, Generalissimuses, and other former key figures of the Union. Most of them ruthless with an almost mechanical mind lacking emotions other than the triumph of victory or the paranoia that blossomed in all supreme leaders, For the sake of their country, they were willing to sacrifice their people, more than anything. For the sake of their own security, they were willing to sacrifice their reputation.

If it was war - "Not one step back!"

If it was a diplomatic meeting with other countries - "We will bury you!"

They were dictators, among the worst, with more blood on their hooves than any other pony's, griffon's, or even dragon's.

The three figures came into full view.

They were... Smiling?

"Добрый день!" one said. He sounded... Young, surprisingly... His tone was welcoming.

As their eyes got used to the backlight, they could make out the three ponies.

One of them was a deep crimson stallion with a dark green-and-gold peaked cap, with a crossed hammer and wrench icon on it's front. He was a pegasus, with a blackish brown mane and tail. His cutie mark was a metalworking hammer in front of what appeared to be a factory silhouette.

The one the right was - to their surprise - a unicorn mare with a beige coat, and sandy crest and tail, while she had a peaked similar to that of her comrade's, but blue, white and red, with the peak's corners folded upwards, and a groove in it that fit around her horn. Her mane was tightly braided, and her cutie mark was scythe with it's blade around a bundle of wheat. She smiled at them.

"Привет!" her voice was soft, and cheery.

The other stallion in the middle was light gray with brown crest, tail and facial hair - a prominent mustache fused with an even more prominent beard. He didn't looked old, though. He had his hat off - a black fur ushanka laid in front of him on the table, a stainless steel five-pointed star on it's front. He was an earth pony, and his cutie mark was the silhouette of a hoof holding up a cogwheel, with tools sticking out from between it's teeth - a hammer, a pickaxe, a scythe, a paintbrush, a calipers, and a torch.

"Welcome!" he said. His accent was almost unnoticeable. Almost.

Trixie, feeling relieved that they survived the "Office of Stares", and by the fact that the Committee leaders seemed to be more friendly than any of them had presumed, seemed almost tipsy with ellation.

So, she merely waltzed up to the table, got on her hind legs, propped her chin up on the table, and gazed at the three (now rather perplexed) ponies, before exhaling the phrase (sensually):

"'вуй!"

A long, awkward pause followed that, before Twilight broke the silence (frantically):

"TRIXIE!"

"Too much?"

"Well, э-э, welcome, anyways..." The bearded stallion greeted them "You're the representatives of the Princesses, right?"

Suddenly, the three mares (and the dragon) snapped into a line. A soldierlike one.

"Sunset Shimmer." Sunset declared "Disciple of Princess Opscura. Practitioner of Arcane, Dark and Battle magic. Substudies include: History, both universal and Equestrian, Martial arts, Tactic, and Etiquette..."

"What was that?"

Sunset sighed...

"...Etiquette..."

"Oh."

The azure mare stepped forward.

"I am..." she began, standing up onto her hind legs "THE GRRRREAT AND POWERFUL..."

Elbow to the ribs.

"Oof!" she got back on all four "I mean... Beatrix Lulamoon. Apprentice of Princess Luna. Practitioner of Adeptian, Shadow and Decoy magic. Substudies include: Technology, Fine arts, Arts, Rhetoric... And pyrotechnics..."

"Pyrotechnics?"

"I come from a family of entertainment magicians."

"Ah."

"Twilight Sparkle." the purple mare said, stepping forward "Student of Princess Celestia. Practitioner of Elemental, Light and Defensive magic. Substudies include: Literature, Chemistry, Genealogy, and Athenaemy."

"Really?"

"Yep!"

"O-К..." they then turned towards the dragon "And you?"

"Uhhh..." Spike straightened his back "Spike. Assistant of Twilight Sparkle. Practitioner of... Drake and Auxiliary magic, I guess? Substudies: uhhh... Athenaemy aaaand... Gemology!"

"Seems fitting." the pegasus nodded "You are a dragon, after all."

"What was that supposed to mean?" Twilight asked, sharply.

"Well..." the stallion replied "Dragons do have a fixation to gemstones, given that they eat them, so proves him all the more intelligent - he wants to study then, and not just eat them..."

"Because dragons NEED to be proven intelligent, right?" the lavender unicorn questioned, eyes narrowing. Spike felt himself shrink with embarrassment. Trixie considered a test of her latest displacement spell. Sunset suppressed the urge to whack the lilac unicorn across the withers.

"Not necessarily..." the pegasus replied, unwavering "But they usually rely on their instincts, well, apart from the teenage dragons, who behave like... Well, teenagers..."

After being bombarded by a cool demeanor and information, Twilight successfully calmed down.

"I'm Стальной Молот." the pegasus introduced himself "Главный инспектор of all industries in Stalliongrad. Рад познакомиться с вами!"

"My name's Золотая Коса." the unicorn mare continued "Ponies' Commissar of health and welfare within Stalliongrad and it's agglomerations. Добро пожаловать в Сталлионград!"

"And I am Сложный Механизм." the earth pony finished "Chaircolt of the Stalliongrad City Committee."

"Sooo... We're not meeting the Supreme Committee?" Trixie asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

"О, небеса, нет!" the Chaircolt replied "They're far too busy with national matters. Like the festival, for example."

"Right, well..." Twilight muttered "The Princesses have ordered us to see, and perhaps, help with the preparations. I understand that the grand scheme is that all regions of the Union contribute to something to the event."

"Indeed." Молот replied "A large crowd is expected, from both around the Union, and from Equestria. Stalliongrad was chosen to be the host city, because of... Well... I think you can guess."

Silence. They all duked out their respective facial reactions.

"Are there any specific locations you want us to visit?" Sunset asked, after some time.

"Here's a the list." Механизм replied, hoofing over a sheet of paper "These are the only places you need to visit. Of course, you can go elsewhere, if you wish. You'll be given a two-week pass for the whole of the Union Railways, plus one more if you want to bring somepony, like a guide, with you."

As they read up the list, the three mares looked up.

"Ummm... Not that it bothers us, but these locations are basically tourist destinations..." Twilight muttered, glancing back down at the page "Linengrad, Komkolzgrad, Mosscow, Minx, Kyiv, Artake..."

"Well..." Коса began, but Молот interrupted:

"Aw, come on! We know how it is!" he chortled "We've been students ourselves - travelling abroad was one of the best things about it!"

"Yes. But this is the Northern Region..." Sunset reminded them "And it's the middle of bucking winter!"

"Sunset!"

"It's inconvenient, I know." Механизм nodded "But the task these places have been given require Equestrian overseers."

"Right." Twilight muttered, studying the list once more "And the festival is...?"

"In a week. And it lasts roughly another week."

"Anything else we should know about?"

The three leaders exchanged looks.

"Watch out for General Winter."

"...Seriously?"

"...Yes. Like you said, it's winter."

They left the office in stunned silence.

Well, actually, Sunset was just too bored to speak...

***

"I just realized..."

"What? You mean here, in the elevator?"

"Yes..."

"OK... What?"

"What 'what'?"

"You realized... What?"

"Празда is the shortening of 'Правительственный здание', or 'Governmental building'."

"..."

"You're not impressed."

"Speak fluid Northern, remember?"

"Princess Opscura has always spoken highly of my logical deduction skills."

"Oh."

"Sooo... Yeah... No surprise there, Twilight..."

"...It also means 'idle'..."

"Huh?"

"The word Празда... It means 'idle'."

"No, it doesn't...! Were you using that cheap-flank translator spell again?"

"...Maybe..."

"Twilight, please, leave the translations to me."

Hotel Aurora

Отель Аврора was another example of Stalliongrad's unique architectural features. Ponies' first impression when they saw it was usually something along the lines of: "I did't know boxes could do that!".

And indeed, while the main building gave the impression of a large box (standing on a rather futuristic pedestal that served as the ground floor), it also curved forming something between an 'L' and a 'U' shape. It reminded some to the 'ˇ' accent, used in certain northern languages. An elevated roof section that overshadowed the inside of the curve (made to resemble the slanted 'claw' part of a hammer) gave the building a sense of inexplicable elegance. It was hard to believe that this was it came from the same designers that built the garish and megalomaniacal steel-inkas, the rickety and übercompact Hrustshhevkas (often considered to be the best michurinian experiment at crossing the floor with the ceiling), the cloning-suspected брежневкаs (brezhnevkas), that often became uninhabitable, due to the chemicals in the insulation triggering and accelerating the sudden corrosion of the framework (said chemical reactions also emitted invisible vapors that made the inhabitants suffer from delirium, hence the name).

Decorated with black marble, and with the entrance resembling the front of a battleship (the namesake of the hotel, of course), and the symbol of the Union's Navy - an anchor-shape composed of a horseshoe, a mast with a telescope laid horizontally across it, topping it off with the well-known star.

They said it was big enough for five.

They didn't said you had to pay for all five of them, in installments.

But yes, anyone could sleep and dine in Hotel Aurora. What was one the plate and in the bed stuffing was another question.

The elevator hummed to a stop, and with a gentle twinkle, the doors opened.

"Floor number 10. We're here." Spike announced.

"You enjoy being the lift colt, don't you?" Twilight asked, smirking.

"Hey, I get to pull the lever - you don't!" the drake replied, stepping out of the cabin. Red drapery covered the walls and the ceiling, with a dark green carpet hiding the wooden tiles of the floor, decorated with intricate markings and shapes, teetering on the definable edge of equineledian geometry. The carped then proceeded to climb the walls, to door-handle level. The stiles were decorated with shiny brass - gold was too expensive to be used as decoration - the electronics industry needed it.

In fact, a vast majority of materials didn't had the same value as it did anywhere else in the world. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds and other gems were utilized in science. Gold, silver, platinum and other rare metals were plentiful within the region, but were mostly used in technology, rather than as jewelry.

"OK. I've booked two rooms, each with a single, large bed." Sunset explained "And don't give me that look, this was the most efficient setup I could get."

"Yes, well, please remind us never to let you manage our budget again." Trixie muttered with a considerable blush.

"Well, EXCUSE ME for not spending it all on the first day!" Sunset hissed.

"Hey, at least you two got a taste of real life, and some business experience!"

"Yeah, SURE... Delivery jobs, sandwichmares, ticket inspectors, and oh, what else?" the fiery mare paused and touched her chin, as if pondering "Ah, yes... YOU SUGGESTED WE TRY TO SELL OUR BODIES FOR "SERVICE"!"

"H-Hey, not so loud!" Trixie stuttered, nervously glancing around "It was just a joke, you firebomb! Cool down!"

"I. HATE. Cold." the orange unicorn growled, ironically coldly.

"Girls..." Twilight's quiet voice was surprising enough to stop their bickering. They looked up.

Down the hall, one of the doors opened.

There was the sound of something just a bit softer than hooves, stepping on the thinned floor carpet. A tiny head popped out from behind the door. Deep blue eyes with indistinguishable irises and pupils stared at them, before it disappeared behind the pinewood frame.

Happy chirping followed that, and a faint voice, chuckling.

"See? I told you, those three are always arguing!"

They all recognized the voice... Apart from Spike.

"Who is that?"

"An old friend." Twilight replied, trotting towards the door. Trixie followed suit, a look of humble happiness displayed on her face. Even Sunset seemed to be at ease.

The dragonling soon joined them.

"So, who is this guy...?"

"Girl, Spike." Trixie corrected him "And she's not just ONE mare..."

"She's a queen..." Twilight added.

The room they entered was small, but well furnished: fluffy carpets, an old wardrobe, and a canopy bed. A door leading to the bathroom on the other side.

On the bed laid a large pony... Bug... Thing...

"Who... Is THAT?"

"Spike, it's impolite to point at ponies!"

The being chuckled.

"It's alright. It was a very long time since he had seen me. Heck, he wasn't even hatched yet." the being then sighed "Besides, I'm not a pony."

"Oh, right..." Trixie whispered, stepping forward.

"Spike. I'd like you to meet her majesty, Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings!"

Needless to say, the young drake was flabbergasted.

"Queen Chrys... Changelin... WHUAT?!" he cried out "And how do you...?!"

"Know you?" the Queen asked, finishing his sentence "I was the one who hid you when you were in your most vulnerable state."

"...My most vulnerable state?" Spike muttered "What do you...? Twilight, what does she mean?"

"Well, you see..." the mare began, awkwardly...

The land, or rather, wasteland where the Queen's main hive had resided in was once inhabited by a clan of dragons, the most impressive among all, and also, the most intelligent. They were the ones who first made peace with the other races, and gave up their scavengering lifestyle to settle down. They began hoarding knowledge instead of wisdom, and became less savage. Unfortunately, in the draconic world, less savage practically equals to "demilitarized". A group of smaller, rogue clans united, and brought down the mighty Dragon Empire in blood and flames. Afterwards, they turned against one another, until they promptly wiped each other out - some of them managed to grab hold of a bunch of documents detailing new spells and elixirs that granted a dragon's flame special abilities.

The latter also worked as refreshment for dragons - later known as the drug 'Drakon' - it covered the user in scales and made them belch fire, cough up smoke and sneeze acid, after prolonged usage. Addicts could actually tap into the powers that were only granted for dragons.

But then again, addicts had a life expectancy of 3 years, as the tonic made them rot from the inside. Strangely enough, it left the liver and kidneys in a perfectly good shape.

When the changeling tribes discovered the ash-laid fields and the caverns burned and clawed out by the long-gone warring beasts, they decided to settle there. The constant fights scarred the landscape and killed it's climate, creating a never-ending mish-mash of night and day with a rain of stars shining through the smoke-smothered sky - it all made perfect sense and a perfect home for the insectine beings. But as they laid the foundation of the new hive, they found a sole, purple egg. It was that of a dragons, but purple and with green spots - unarguably caused by the tonic. The Queen decided to take care of the egg. Why? She couldn't tell. She reasoned that a dragon would provide a great source of protection for the hive, then again, they didn't had the resources to nurture a drake. Still, she did her best to keep the egg warm, whilst making her plans. Grand schemes to gather all the love for the tribes that united under her guidance.

Their first, and also last attack on Equestria was fruitless - revealed by an escaped Princess Cadence, who's love had temporarily turned into hatred so intense that no changeling could've been able to survive it - her rampage didn't stop with the release of her soon-to-be husband. Having sworn to protect her subjects, the Queen stood before her, collecting the pure hatred that she was blasted with. For a being that lives on love, ingesting hatred is pure poison. But she stood, and stood strong, as Shining Armor pleaded his fiancé to stop. Draining her dry of her dark emotions. As she was at her peak, whilst the alicorn finally collapsed in exhaustion, her biology made a shift. Her chitin, her eyes, and even her hair that usual shone in that sickly green that came naturally to her race - it all changed into a burning red. The power within her awoke, and nothing could stop it. Nopony could stop her. Blasting through twenty, meter-wide walls with a single blast, she found herself facing the three Princesses, and their respective students.

Guards charged at her.

She knocked the wind out of them.

Two of the three alicorns attempted to use magic.

She deflected it, which nearly killed them all.

Her own subjects stood out of her way, fearing their lives - the lives they've sworn to her.

She wasn't herself, and something in the back of her mind was pleading, begging and crying to make her stop.

Then, one filly stood before her.

Light orange, with a flame-like mane and tail, and turquoise eyes staring defiantly at the heaving monarch.

But in her forehooves, she held something.

"I believe..." she announced, her voice cracking a bit, but she straightened herself "I believe this belongs to you..."

And she gave back the egg.

Up until that moment, the Queen remembered what she was doing, before she rushed to save her soldiers from the rampaging Cadence:

Frantically searching for the egg.

That was what gave her the ability to take control of the hateful emotions she consumed.

Like steam being released from a pot, the dark energies evaporated from around and within her, letting herself return to her normal state.

With a sigh, she held her egg close, and uttered:

"Thank you."

She then explained it all:

The changelings were on the verge of extinction. That was what united the tribes. Chrysalis knew how to take care of them, so she became their queen. She knew of the land of Equestria, and all the love the ponies harbored. Love they would never share with beings such as them - among the "less social" intelligent beings, ponies gained a notoriety for being xenophobic and emotionally unstable.

It also didn't helped that the changelings never heard of diplomacy.

The battles ended. The invasion was over.

They didn't won. Nor did they fail.

They found a new home, and new companions among the ponies instead.

"...And for that reason, she gave us the egg. Not loon afterwards, I made hatched you with my magic..." Twilight added, ignoring the painful facts that came with that feat "That's how I gained my cutie mark."

"Whilst Sunset gained hers after she gave me the egg. She had the talents of Princess Luna, and the sheer force of Princess Opscura, but, until then, she didn't understood the compassion Princess Celestia felt for her subjects. And I assume this also worked in favor with her relationship with Opscura."

Sunset looked away.

"During her research, she also managed to track down the origins of the changeling race..." the Queen continued, her voice growing cold "A revelation came, regarding everypony's favorite magical mastermind."

"What revelation? And who is this magical mastermind you speak of?" Spike asked. Now Twilight looked away, as Sunset spoke up:

"Starswirl." she hissed "As much of a revolutionary spellcrafter he was, he was also an unscrupulous bastard, especially when it came to testing his new spells.

He tested one on an ancient, flourishing oriental empire, known as the Firefly State. They were the first ones, in history, to ever use an organized army, but once their empire was established, they disbanded their army, bar the necessary border patrol. Scriptures from that time reveal them to be the first ones to use adeptian magic as well. Specifically, morphing spells. Their land was small, but enough for them, nested in between tall mountains on an upper plane - understandable, given their isolationist, hermit-like nature. Many ponies at that time considered it a wander that they managed to even socialize to the point of joining forces. 'Elven horses' - as they were called at the time - were known for two things: their beauty, and their absolute solitude..."

"Hard to believe it these days, I know..." Chrysalis sighed with a sad smile. Her body looked like an odd cross between an alicorn, a dragon and an insect, like a firefly or wasp. Her horn was jagged, her face reminded Spike of the military-issue gas masks he once saw in a shop window: muzzle-like, but with more angles an edges than curves - yet, there was a certain beauty to it, that Spike, in his young age, couldn't really grasp. She had big eyes, in the same shape of an average pony's. Dull green chitin covered the Queen's stomach and abdomen, hiding the slightly more sensitive skin of her belly, fusing into a strong, but flexible shell on her back, where her wings (again, a mixture of dragon and insectoid wings) protruded from - two pairs, to be exact.

"It used to be worse." she explained "Changelings used to have holes all over their limbs, wings and even their crest and tail.

Her crest and tail was film-like, and hung down like heavy drapery, but once they was propped by the mattress or her body, they behaved like velvet. Her legs were also covered with chitin, but black one that matched the rest of her body, and instead of round hooves, they ended in clawed ones, The structure of her body was similar to that of a pony's but more lean, almost haggardish, But, presently, no holes.

"So..." Spike was lost for words...

"I looked after you as an egg." the Queen said, in a matter-of-factly way "I don't really know why I did it." she then smiled "Well, I didn't know, until... They came into my life..."

"They? Who are they?"

The answer came in the form of chirps...

From behind the Queen's body, two small creatures crawled forward.

It took the dragon exactly five seconds to comprehend what he was seeing...

The others needed less than five...

"AaaaaaAAAAAAAAAHH they're ADORABLE!" with that ear-piercing squeal, Trixie rushed forward, almost pouncing the bed. The wee changelings stared at her with an amazed (and amused) look. They resembled pony foals, covered in the same black chitin as their mother, but softer, due to their young age.

Spike stared, bemused at the three little foals. They were different from both the changeling drones, and the pony foals he had seen before. For once, their sclera was already visible, while, oddly enough, it seemed that they haven't developed irises yet, leaving them with ebony eyes. The chitin armor on two of the was rather bulky, with lots of unnecessary protrusions. The third one was lithe compared to them, and it's eyes were larger as well. Unlike the other two, it already had a tail and mane, if film-like.

"So... One Princess and two..."

"Princes." the Queen nodded "With the cure you've made us, we're now able to reproduce as normal equines - as we once did."

"Soooo, no more hive-life?" Twilight asked, trying to sound as polite as she could, and failing miserably in the process.

Thankfully, the Queen didn't seem to mind, otherwise, this could've turned into a very nasty diplomatic incident.

"Yes, indeed..." she paused for a moment "Was it you, Beatrix, who made made that potion?"

"Beatrix?" Spike asked, giving Trixie a questionable look.

"It's my name, what of it?!" the mare snapped "And yes, it was me."

"Thanks to you, our race could finally re-assume it's original life and fate. We are no longer parasites..."

"Well, if you're as great and powerful as me..." Trixie was cut of when a hoof found it's way into her mouth.

"She has enough limelight." Sunset sighed, before changing his tone to a softer one "Did you came for the Winter Festival as well?"

"Of course!" Chrysalis replied "I heard that you will be overseeing the preparations."

"...More like just... Checking on them, actually." Twilight admitted "We have no authority, so we can only offer suggestions. We'll see if things are running smoothly, and show a hoof if necessary."

"Good." said the Queen, cheerily "Were you given any particular program scheme, or were you thrown into the fire, just like..." she had to stifle a chuckle "...Your trip to Transnestria..."

"Please, don't remind us..." the three mares groaned in unison.

As they laid in bed, Spike couldn't help but to turn to his stepsister.

"Twilight? You asleep?"

"Not anymore..." the unicorn groaned.

"I was thinking about the Queen..."

"And?"

"Isn't she technically my step-mother? I mean, you are my step-sister, and if she was my stepmother... Wouldn't that make her foals my step-siblings as well?"

"Huh? Well, yeah, now that you mention it, that does make sense..."

"And then, following the same logic, wouldn't that make the Queen's foals your step-siblings as well?"

"...Go to sleep, Spike."

Мохсква

Many say that you shouldn't judge a country by it's politicians. And yet, each country's politicians reflect the mindset of their people.

Capitals can also tell a lot.

For example, Canterlot, the capital of the Equestrian Triarchy, is a dreamlike castle-city, built on the side of the tallest mountain in Central Equestria. It's inhabited by both the créme of society, yet accepts just about anyone seeking shelter within it's walls. And still, the entire city is seated precariously on platform on the steep mountainside.

The allusion is clear: disorder and havoc is as far as the nearest natural disaster. And in a world so indoctrinated, so encased by magic that controls everything, nature seems to want nothing else, than to overthrow it's conquerors. Canterlot's - and through it, Equestria's - safety is held up only by destructible brick, mortar, and fainting magic.

The official capital of the northern region, Mosscow, was an entirely different story.

It's population and size nearing that of a smaller country's, it was vast, sprawling city, set to be the example for all big cities within the Union. It was also the favorite building playground for every dictator the U.C.C.R. has ever had. Styles change in every district, and so does function. Even the seedier parts of town serve some aesthetic value.

Not that the three mare would've been able to see it, considering that they were cooped in the Northern State Library (still streetwise known as the Linen Library to many).

"Would you mind telling us WHY exactly are we staying here? Getting moldy? Wasting precious time?!" Sunset snapped, only to have a dozen voices shush her.

"Why are we in the library?" Trixie whispered "You said you wanted to check out the local architecture!"

"I still do." Twilight replied "But felt the urge to do some research. Besides..." she added, turning to the others with a coy smile "We have some grade-A modernized neoclassicism we have here..."

"You tricked us!" Spike gasped, quickly receiving the chorus of "Ssssh!"s...

"Partially..." the purple mare replied "We got up early. You were drowsy... And unassuming... Even when I said I want to check it out from the inside..."

"Should've figured it out the moment you said you want to start with the library..." the dragon muttered.

"But you didn't..."

"Look..." Sunset, trying to keep her voice as quiet as she could - which wasn't quite enough for a few nearby ponies "We got a job to do. The Supreme Council awaits us. We're on behalf of the Equestrian Kingdom!"

"The Equestrian Federal Triarchy, you mean..." Twilight questioned sharply, giving her a rather unfitting, sharp glance "Need I remind you that neither King or Queen of our fair country has made their presence know ever since the founding of Equestria?" she huffed "You might as well call it the 'Principality of Equestria', if that wouldn't be so demeaning in the eyes of peaked cap and necktie-wearing idiots."

"Really?" the orange mare croaked "You start with your anti-establishment manure here? In a library? In THIS country?"

Another chorus of hushes, silenced by a death-glare from Sunset.

"It's not anti-establishment propagation. If anything, it's anti-idiot." Twilight replied coldly "And this is not just a library. This is the library of Mosscow: the Northern State Library, or Lenin Library, if you prefer..."

"I. DON'T. CARE!" the fiery unicorn bellowed, and as the chorus started up, she roared at them as well:

"ЗАТКНИСЬ! ИЛИ Я ПРЕВРАЩУ ТЕБЯ В ДРЕВЕСНЫЙ УГОЛЬ!"

After calming down a little, she turned to the lavender mare - up, close, and personal...

"I'll burn this place to the ground..." she hissed "I don't care about politics, the ponies here, or the money it'll cost us! I'll burn every single book in this place!"

"Go ahead." Twilight replied, smirking "There's over 17 billion of them, and those are only the hardcover ones, all protected by fireproof spells."

Sunset grinned.

"Oh yeah? What about the structure?"

Twilight's smirk faded.

"It would be a shame if the poor lil' ol' books wouldn't have this grandiose place to stay in, now wouldn't it?"

"You... You wouldn't..." Twilight uttered, shaking.

Trixie and Spike exchanged worried looks. Twilight wore an indescribable expression, teetering between immense anger and panic, with eyes dilated painfully wide.

This was the signal of a breakdown.

And with Sunset already fired up...

And Spike still remembered, although vaguely, the last time, when Trixie was thrown into the mix, crackling with anger herself...

Many say that the lake at the bottom of the hill under Canterlot was a quarry lake - but there's no way one could mine on the grasslands of Central Equestria, not even illegally, what, with the capital being just a couple thousand meters above.

Only a few, including Spike and the Princesses, know the real origin of the lake.

Not even Twilight, Trixie and Sunset are aware of the nature of their creation.

They passed out before they could notice...

There was cough...

They looked up. One of the librarians stood beside them. A pony with an oddly gorilla-like stature, his small glasses gave him an... Uncanny aura of intelligence...

"Ladies, I have to request that you continue your "conversation" outside." he spoke with little to no accent.

"Right away..." Twilight replied, organizing her notes. The stallion peaked over her shoulder.

"Are you doing a research on the Winter Festival, miss?"

"Yes, indeed." Twilight replied.

"You may find further information about it in the Northern National Library in Linengrad, or in the library of the Linengrad State University. Wish you luck." and before Twilight could reply, he turned away, with a final "Увидимся."

"Strange guy." Spike muttered.

"Well, these two were on the verge of a fight." Trixie put in, rolling her eyes "Which reminds me: KNOCK IT OUT, YOU TOO!"

"SSSSSH!"

"Sorry!"

***

The Push-keen Café was one of the more well-know, yet hidden wonders of the Crimson Square. Located besides the market, with a clear view on the Krumlin and Linen's Mausoleum, it was surprising quiet.

The four friends sat in a box, passing sighs, one after the other.

Finally, Spike broke the silence:

"Was anypony else sweating bullets?" he asked "I was."

"I've never seen such serious leaders before." Twilight muttered "Then again, leading such a large country... Probably requires quite a bit of seriousness."

"And balls..." thus Sunset.

"And guts..." thus Spike.

"And alcohol..." thus Trixie.

The others stared at her for a moment.

"...Yeah, pretty much likely, actually..." Sunset yawned.

"Aren't they supposed to be in Stalliongrad?" the blue mare went on "I mean, this persistence to remain in Mosscow kind of eliminates the purpose of the "wondering Capitol" concept."

"Well, you can't except them to be a COMPLETELY perfect utopia, now can you?" Spike asked back, quite wisely indeed.

The others remained silent, so the young drake stared outside, watching the awakening Crimson Square.

Suddenly, he blurted out:

"What's with those stars?"

The others looked up. He was looking at the Krumlin building. Specifically, the towers...

Specifically, the stars.

Five of the Krumlin's towers were decorated by the enigmatic, five-pointed steel stars. Via a mixture of magic and machinery, they were constantly supercharged with an energy field, acting like passive Tussla coils that didn't had anything near enough to zapp. The other towers were decorated by the two-headed eagles, the crest of the former tsarist autocracy - a fairly recent addition, done for historical reasons, although, a bit counter-productively: the most of the original towers had nothing on top.

Due to their supercharged state, the stars constantly emitted a captivating, bright red glow - haunting, yet beautiful.

A common advice a Mosscovite would give to a visitor was the following:

"Never go to Crimson Square during a thunderstorm, and, under no circumstances, should you look at the stars of the Krumlin at night."

Many myths surrounded the pentacles, regarding their origins (some said they were produced in five different steel mills across the Union, either on their opening or their closing day), their purpose beyond decoration (foreign media often assumed them to be mind-control devices, others believed that the Councils have actually managed to enslave demons within the stars, only to slowly drain them of their powers and life until they died, then capturing new ones), and, most importantly, their enrapturing radiance.

"Nopony knows, Spike..." Twilight answered solemnly, staring at the nearest star "Nopony knows..."

The dragonling gulped, ever-so-quietly.

The sky was overcast with dark clouds, enhancing the glow of the pentacles.

The longer they stared into it, the more they closed out the surrounding world.

Sounds blurred.

Vision tunneled.

A whisper came, uttering little more than a deep sigh...

The scarlet light of the stars, pulling them in, deeper... Deeper...

"Beautiful... Aren't they?"

The soft, yet sultry voice snapped them out of their trance.

Glancing to the side, Spike's eyes widened, and he gulped once more, though, for a different reason...

The mare sat between two lamps, in the shade that provided much of that unique, winter beatnik ambiance that the café could easily claim to be it's own, and trademark it. Her ivory coat still radiated in the half-light, emphasizing the three gemstones: a red ruby, a blue sapphire, and a green emerald. They made up her cutie mark, clearly visible, as the hem of her black turtleneck only began at her stomach. Ebony horseshoes hung in the air, and nestled in the opposite foreleg's elbow on the table. A dark rose-colored beret crowned her neatly combed, wavy amethyst crest, reaching beyond her withers, while her tail just barely avoided scraping the floor. Eyes, cobalt blue, glanced at them from behind half-lowered eyelids, the eyes in their entirety decorated by blue eye shadows, black eye-lingers with naturally long, black eyelashes.

Her smile was small, yet profound, her mouth only showing a gentle touch of rouge.

Before her was an empty cup of coffee, and a full bottle of absinthe, verte. The brand was "La Fée Verte", respectively.

Calling out to the bartender with a clear, soft northern call, she turned back to them with a sly look, winking.

The three mares and the dragon exchanged looks.

"Who is she?"

"Do you know her?"

"Why would I?"

"You're the performer! And you've always bragged about your photographic memory... Among other things... So, who is she?"

"I haven't performed outside Canterlot in the last 10 years!"

"What did she say to the bartender?"

"I don't know! I wasn't paying attention!"

"Quiet! He's coming back!"

The bartender returned, bringing a tray with four glasses and a carafe on it.

Placing it on the table, it was revealed that the tray also contained sugar cubes and specially crafted spoons. Each glass contained a liquid with a distinct color, and everyone got his or her (most her) own, as the bartender placed the glasses before them.

Sunset's drink was amber colored, while the ornate spoon she was given had small, flame-shaped holes on it.

Trixie's was blue, with the spoon containing star-shaped holes set up in the elaborate pattern of constellations. The stars were all distinctively (as expected) five-pointed.

Twilight's drink was of a rosy hue, her spoon depicting the entrance of the State Library through it's holes and slots.

And finally, Spike's drink was clear, with a bit of white in it, the holes on his spoon were small hearts set around in distinctive, diamond-shaped patterns. Upon noticing this, the young drake gulped again.

"Is this..." Twilight began, bemused.

"...What I think it is?" Sunset finished.

"Indeed. Absinthe."

The simple answer came from the ivory mare, who now sat down at their table, with her own glass of green, accompanied by a spoon with the profile of Push-keen cut into it.

There was a pause.

"Pardon me..." Sunset spoke, breaking the silence before it grew awkward "But who, pray tell, may we respect in your person?"

"Rarity Belle." the white unicorn replied coyly "And you?"

"Sunset Shimmer." the orange mare replied, simply and militantly.

"I am the Grrreat and Powerful Trrrixie!" Trixie declared, with less volume to avoid another jab into her ribs. She then quietly added "My full name is Beatrix Lulamoon."

"Twilight Sparkle." Twilight said, cheerily "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Belle."

"Please, darling, call me Rarity." the mare replied, before turning towards the dragonling "And who are you?"

"S-Spike..." he replied "C-Charmed to meet you..."

"Likewise..:" she whispered, turning to the others "Do you know how to prepare your absinthe?"

Silence. Perplexed looks.

"Well then." Rarity went on, mood unfaltering "Follow my lead..."

As they watched their drinks grow foggy after the application of sugar via a stream of icy water, their thoughts (or, at least, Twilight's thoughts) wandered back to the mysterious mare beside them.

"So... Rarity..." she began "I have... A hunch that you're from Equestria, like us."

"That's true." the white mare replied, stirring her drink "But what brings you four here?"

"Were top students from the Canterlot School of Gifted Unicorns." the lavender one replied "Very high level ones. We were entrusted by... Our superiors... To observe the preparations for the Winter Festival."

"Wow..." she quipped "You'd have to practically own that school to be given such a high task. I mean, I only attended it for a short time to complete my adeptian studies, but from what I gathered, they won't give such objectives to anypony, except the most trusted... Unless..."

Her eyes widened.

"You... You are the personal protégés of the Princesses!"

Twilight blinked.

"Yes." she blurted out

"Well... Bless my stars..." exhaled Rarity "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance... Not that it wasn't before..." she added, smiling with that knowing smile again.

"...So we've noticed..." Trixie mumbled "But what are you doing in Mosscow?"

"Taking a much deserved break, darling." she replied "I live in a humble, quaint little town known as Ponyville. I also run my own establishment there - the Carousel Boutique."

They gave her incredulous looks.

"Oh, excuse me..." she gasped in a worried manner "Many ponies get the wrong idea about carousels, what, with all those... Impaled horses on the older ones, but please, believe me, my shop has nothing to do with it!"

"No, it's not that..." Twilight replied "It's just that... A boutique?"

"Hmmm?"

"You went the Princesses' School of Gifted Unicorns, studied Adeptian magic... And you opened a boutique?" Trixie muttered, sounding rather unimpressed.

"Actually, I merely took over from my mother. She started business when she was at my age, but then began to pursue other goals, leaving the shop abandoned. That was until she met my father. When they found out that she was pregnant with my little sister, they've decided to move from the prefab apartment we've lived in back to Ponyville, where she grew up. They bought back the old shop, and, deteriorated as it was, I was captivated by it, and... Well... The rest, as they say, is pony history..."

"It's still a boutique..." Sunset stated bluntly...

"Your point?" Rarity asked, sounding less sultry and more serious.

"You've studied in the best school of the region, if not the entire country, and you've studied a field of magic that gave you the potential to do things many earth ponies and pegasi would kill for to be capable of doing. And you decide to run a boutique in some backwater town..." the orange mare spoke with a tone of disdain "What do you even sell there?"

"Self-made clothes."

Sunset blinked.

"What?"

"Hoof-crafted clothing attires for every and all ponies." the ivory unicorn stated proudly "I design my own clothes. It's my talent. I've been approached by many big companies that wanted to employ me, promising me a life of luxury. But I rather stayed where my roots, and friends, were. Where my heart was. Still, I'm an internationally renowned fashionista."

"...Excuse me?" Sunset asked, eyebrows rising towards the sky.

"I'm a fashion designer, a fashion dictator, if you will. Not just a trendsetter, I inspire as well!"

The other two mares and the young dragon seemed highly impressed, but Sunset remained stoic.

"Well?" she asked, as sweetly as she could.

"...Fashion is just a few letters away from fascism."

Dead silence followed the wheat-coated unicorn's statement.

After a long pause, Rarity finally found her words:

"Well, I guess you can't please everypony..."

***

They left the café, heading out onto the now busy square.

"Wow... That mare..." Spike mumbled, wiping his brow "She was... Something..."

"Hmph. A bit haughty, if you ask me." Trixie announced.

"You're one to speak." frowned Twilight, before reassuming her smile "I think she was nice. A fashion designer...! Even though she lived in one of those grey horseshoeboxes..."

"Hey, I lived there as well, remember!" Sunset growled.

"Anyways, what do you think, Sunset?" Spike asked.

The mare took a sideways glance at the café, the ivory unicorn still seated inside.

"...Femme fatale..." she murmured...

"What?" the drake asked.

Sunset didn't reply. She just trotted towards their next destination...

Университет

"And, as yoo see, ve've prepared de great hall ov both de Universitet and de Prazda for de visit ov de Prinzesses."

"You sure did!" Twilight replied with a smile, looking at the decorations: banners and flags everywhere, bearing the symbols of every region of Equestria that celebrated the Winter Festival, with aesthetically arranged furniture, and, what was most unusual, long chains of beads and pearls shaped into the symbol of the Triarchy - the sun with the crescent moon on it, surrounded by a dark ring symbolizing the eclipse -, and the more traditional symbol of the Union within the Equine Federation - star-shaped (and, of course, five-pointed) steel gray snowflakes.

The stallion showing them around - Скучной Лекци - was keen about revealing every detail to his guests.

And I do mean every detail.

Trixie (as swiftly as she could) suppressed a yawn, while Sunset failed to suppress a twitch that ran trough her face. Meanwhile, Spike had given a whole new meaning to "sleepwalking". They've already traveled through the whole university complex - twice -, but information was one gift that Professor "Boring Lecture" just kept on giving...

"Ve hav' even reconstructed Prinzess Celestia's staute in de courtyard, vhere eet was thorn down during the revolution. Ov course, ve'ev also added de sculptures ov her tvo sisters as well."

"That's great!" the lavender unicorn cheered "Are the pupils here preparing something as well? Other than a presumably well-deserved holiday break?"

"И'м afraid И cannot tell yoo dat." the professor replied "Mой time ees short as eet ees."

Twilight frowned, mostly because she thought she saw, in the corner of her eye, her friends sitting in a pool of light, looking towards the heavens with starry eyes, as a chorus sang "Hallelujah" ambiently from afar.

"OK." she muttered, smiling at him once more "It was nice talking to you, professor. До свидания!"

"Likewise." he replied, smiling back "Прощайте!"

As the professor trotted away, Twilight turned to her friends...

...Who were glaring at her...

...Very intensively...

"What?"

They kept glaring...

"I'm gonna freakin' staple your ears and mouth shut!" Sunset hissed.

"Oh..."

The buildings of the university were unique, as they offered the a wide variety of architectural and aesthetic design. The main building - known as the Building of Twelve Colleges -, which the four now left, was a beautifully done, with red walls and cream white plasterwork decor encasing the walls, with arching windows and small, delicate, almost cheeky curves along the roof. The row of trees in front of it, though now barren, still gave it an air of... Ease, for lack of better words...

It sat on an island near the city, moving it slightly away from the noisy metropolis, giving it the perfect atmosphere for mental recuperation and education - retired from life, removed from time... The perfect location...

As Twilight dug deeper and deeper into her own philosophizing, she didn't noticed the large, brown body which's path she was unfortunate enough to cross.

"UGH!"

"OOOFF!"

She fell into the snow.

"Mmmh..."

"OI! Watch were you trot, dweeb!"

Her eyes popped open immediately.

"...Dweeb?"

Gazing up, she saw a sight that stirred deep emotions in her. Well, one emotion: FEAR.

It was instinctual, hard-wired into her brain, as it was into the rest of her kin. She tried to reason, rely on common sense, knowing full well that this ages-old rivalry has long since faded into oblivion...

But still...

Above her, towering over her body from her perspective, was a tall, female griffon. A classic, lion-eagle breed, she had purple hair feathers and rings around her eyes of the same color, contrasting her white-feathered head and craw. Her plumage and fur dissolved into one another somewhere around her flying ribs. Under her wings was what she (correctly) guessed to be a gas mask bag - they were quite popular at one time among city dwellers in the Union's former satellites.

Coincidentally, said city dwellers were usually the ones who had relates in the countryside, that lived near military compounds and were good friends with the "temporarily stationed" soldiers.

"Eh... You alright?"

Twilight blinked.

She had been staring at the griffon (griffoness?) for five minutes straight. Without blinking.

Ouch.

While she buried her head in the snow (so as to make her eye-sockets NOT feel like sandpaper), her friends decided to converse with the avian.

"I'm guessing you're a student here..." Sunset began, rather bluntly "Hi."

"Ummm... Hello." the griffon replied "Can I help you?"

"No, not really." the fiery mare went on "We were just leaving, sorry to bump into you."

"No problem."

"OK, then. Goodbye."

And with that, she turned to leave.

"NOT SO FAST!"

There was a ring of fire, that appeared in the garden, fainting as it spread distant from it's center.

An irate Sunset, a rather singed Trixie and Spike, and a slightly frostbitten Twilight sat in the middle of it.

"Don't. EVER. B*cking. DO THAT!" the orange mare hissed.

"...got it..." replied the blue unicorn.

"OK... What in the name of Victoria has gotten into you?!"

Looking up, they saw the griffon, floating above them

"Sorry about that!" Spike called out to her "She's a bit tense... We had an incident this morning..."

"Incident? Oooh, a dragon!"

Spike blinked, looking bemused, as the griffon landed besides them.

"Oooh, a griffon!" he sneered "Not funny when it happens to you all the time..."

"Ummm..."

"I'm Spike. You are?"

"Gilda." she replied, glancing around. Suns just sat, sulkily, on her patch of charred ground, Twilight was rubbing her face to get rid of the frostbite, while Trixie was still dazed and surprised, tumbling about as if she was inebriated.

"And... They are?"

The drake looked over his friends...

"Would you believe if I told you that these were the delegates that the Princesses have sent to observe the Festival preparations?"

Gilda stared.

"AND that they're their personal students?"

"...Now you're messing with me."

"Eeeeenope."

"Wow."

"Yep."

"I didn't know being the Princesses' "special" student means that you ACTUALLY ride the short bus..."

"Hey! That's rude!"

"Oh, great! You finally recovered..." Sunset growled, before trotting over to Trixie, and giving her a firm knock on the noggin.

"So, uhh, Gilda..." Spike began "You study here?"

"Yeah. History, mythology, technology, magical arts, martial arts, and a metric dungtons of extra-curricular activities..."

"Wow..." Trixie mumbled "That's... A lot..."

"I'm studying to be a polymath."

"Isn't that a bit... Excessive?" Spike asked "What, with specialization being in full swing."

Gilda looked away.

"Let's just say, that... Certain aspects of my home require me to be competent in as many subjects as possible."

"Oh... Demanding parents?"

"Just a stepmother."

"Ah." Spike leaned closer, quietly motioning towards Twilight "I know that feeling. She's my stepsister and my boss in the same time."

"Huh. Is that so?"

"She hatched me."

"Figures. In fact, I'd expect that from the student of the Princesses."

"Princess. Singular. She's mentored by Celestia, while Sunset - the grumpy one, over there - is studying under Princess Opscura. And Trixie's studying under Princess Luna."

"Uhhuh... Say, what was that incident you mentioned earlier..."

"I... I'd rather not..."

"Out with it."

Her tone was demanding. She looked him straight in the eye.

He was getting more pre-pubertal tension than ever before in his entire life so far.

What can a young dragon to do?

He sighed.

"...we reanimated Linen..."

"...Whuaaat?"

***

While they where back in Mosscow (obviously), they've decided to visit Linen's mausoleum. It wasn't among their original tasks - after all, why would you look at a dead horse that has been preserved through some rather disgusting methods (unless you have deep admiration for that horse, and/or you're into that particular kinky stuff)?
But they needed to air out their heads after their encounter with Rarity, and the Mausoleum was just across the square. What's more relaxing than looking at a delightfully preserved, peacefully dead revolutionary from nearly a hundred years before?

Entering the dark room, decorated by a zig-zaggy line on the walls, a reminiscent of the crimson banner, with the unbreakable glass case in the center, they feasted their eyes on the prominent features of leader of the world's first councilist country.

"He seems kinda soggy today..." Spike muttered "The preservation spells may be wearing off."

"No, he was already a bit soggy when they first embalmed him." Twilight uttered. She felt... Ambiguous. This stallion brought forth what many at his time thought to be impossible. He created a communalist state. He was there when a democratic regime was established in the place of a tsarist autocracy, and he was the one who led the revolution into victory. He was the teacher of his people, the key figure of the small council that was first established in Pitrograd.

And yet...

He was also a murderer.

His actions brought forth a civil war, which led to thousands of deaths, and scrambled the already shaken economy of his country. Like many of his successors (especially his direct successor), he had blood on his hooves. Although, he rejected the cult of personality that arose around him, trying to make the people focus on the ideology itself instead... When times grew desperate, he intended to allow the masses to have a market once more, so as to restore the economy. Taken down by sillifillis, he would never witness the sheer brutality and mercilessness of his successor, Steel Ink.

"I wonder what would he thing of his country now..." Trixie quipped.

The others exchanged looks.

Sunset trotted forward, announcing the phrase "We'll soon find out..."

The others now cringed. They knew it all too well what this rather infamous sentence of the orange mare meant.

As she got into a battle stance, her horn began to low and glower with a dark red aura, unlike her usual turquoise--yellow. The aura spread out like cigarette smoke, enveloping the case.

Slowly seeping inside.

"Not exactly air-tight, I see..." she snickered, grinning as she focused her magic even more...

Linen's glass display coffin was completely filled with the red mist, the Old Leader's body just a dark silhouette within the crimson cloud. The mare's eyes turned red as well.

"Ummmm... Twilight?" Trixie squeaked.

"Y-Yes?" the lavender unicorn asked back, stuttering.

"W-What is this?"

"...Uh... It's magic, but one of the most arcane ones, and... Oh, sweet Harmonia..."

"Whu-Wha-What?!" Spike stuttered.

"This is one of the spells that requires the caster to..." Twilight gulped "Sacrifice a portion of his or her soul..."

"No..."

"Sunset, why...?"

"Don't worry, girls... I'm in control..." she didn't even sound like herself, now "I can get away with it, scot-free...

"H...How?"

"I am in control here..." she whispered "So I can get away with it..."

They gazed at her, waiting for further explanation.

Her grin turned malicious.

"By sacrificing a Demon instead!"

For the first time, they saw an implosion, as every puff of red mist got sucked inside the body trough it's orifices and pores, illuminating it with a ghoulish crimson light. However, the light soon cleared out becoming a blinding white instead, reducing visibility within the small, dark room to zero, and also annihilating all sounds and noises. In the white silence, the sound of breaking glass still comes trough.

Soon enough, the light dims, leaving behind a room with bleached walls, a broken glass case, and a pony with a very prominent, very distinctive facial hair. The stallion seemed to be around 50 years old, and in perfect health for a pony of his age. He wore a dark, coat-like suit with a white shirt under it, his simple, brown coat and reddish brown tail and... What was left of his balding crest. He blinked a few times, his eyes focusing once clearly once more. He gazed at the three mares (one utterly exhausted, the other two utterly stunned), and one young drake (equally stunned) before him. Their colorful furs revealed that they were foreign. He mused over their cutie marks. His own was a large, five-pointed red star with an anchor in the middle, and smith's hammer and judge's gavel laid across it in an 'X' shape, right at the center of the star. It was said that he got his cutie mark at fairly late age, as did many other great minds (and infamous personalities) of equine history. Gazing at the orange mare with the fiery mane and tail, and deeming her to be the most competent of the bunch, he just went ahead, not even hoping an answer:

"Где я?"

Presently, the selected mare gathered her wits, and replied:

"В вашем собственном мавзолее, товарищ..."

***

"...Long story short, Comrade Linen is now back from the dead, alive and well in top health, with absolutely NO hunger for brains..."

"Trixie managed to make an exact copy - even if ersatz version - of him..."

"Hey!"

"...So the Commissar Comrade is will be safe until the next embalmment session comes around..."

"...They embalm him every other day..."

"..."

"Like you've pointed out, that glass case wasn't exactly bulletproof. They somehow always manage to... "Misplace" the money that would be required to upgrade his coffin of sorts, and recently, the politburo has been kind of pushy when it came to the subject of actually burying the Teacher of the Ponies..."

"..."

"Embalmment sessions usually happen sometime after closure. For example, at 11 p.m. today..."

"Well, this sucks..."

They walked in silence for some time...

"So, uh... What field are you interested in?"

"None, really..." came the bleak reply "I'm just... Docking here... Waiting for my final exams..."

"I heard they were extra stingy about the amount of points they give you here..." Trixie quipped "...I mean, in the various engineering courses..."

"That's true..." Gilda replied, smiling wryly "Our tech teach is especially brass-balled. His family was sent to the Vupos when he was just a foal."

The others winced collectively.

"Now, he hates just about anyone... With burning passion..." the griffon gave a dark chuckle "Can't really blame him."

The mares gave her a puzzled look.

"Hey, his only relatives wound up in the camps, and his old man, in Llyubjanka. And while the Vupos weren't as bad as, let's say, Ouschwitz, bucking Llubjanka is still a one-way ticket to Tartarus! Besides..."

She gazed at them, intensively...

"The system was crooked back then. And it hasn't really straightened itself since..."

"What do you mean?" Twilight asked.

Gilda looked away, gazing at where they were heading for.

"Wait and see..."

The mares looked forward as well. Spike knew, why. It was their greatest fear when coming here, thought they kept it hidden - even in front of the Troika.

Getting sent to the Vupos...

"ВУпос", or VUpos, were the "nicknames" for the labor camps all over the more hostile, but resource and mineral-rich areas of the Union, set up by the Supreme Directorate of penitentiary settlements - Высшим Управление по пенитенциарных поселений in northern tongue.

Gilda was right. These camps were set up with one intention: execution through labor. Still, work had to be done, so the prisoners were kept alive, but just barely. Unlike in Ouschwitz, where the main point of the whole complex was to systematically destroy those who were unfortunate enough to enter it - and there were many of those.

All in all, both systems had their "death combinates" that were used to churn up the "waste". But in the Union, the first winds of change after the Supreme Secretary's death brought their closure.

And in the case of the Gearmane Reich... The whole system itself ceased to exist.,, After some coercion, that is...

Gearmaney has learned from it's history, and made up for it.

The Union didn't fell.

Nor did it took responsibilities...

...Well, not on an international scale...

"Well..." the dragon's voice made the others jump - all that they've been listening to in the last five minutes were their hooves (and paws, and claws) crushing the fresh snow.

"...What about your electives?"

"Huh?" Gilda was still befuddled.

"What did you took as an elective?"

The griffon smiled. Grinned.

"I took up Tankery."

Танкист исследованиях - Way of the Tank

"I didn't know anyone practiced tankery as a subject..." Twilight mused, as they trotted down the path "Well, apart from the Japonese, of course..."

"It was first introduced to military schools after the Second Pan-Equine War." Gilda replied "Originally, it was just part of the soldiers' basic training, but as technology advanced, the training officers faced a... Unique problem..."

"Oh? What do you mean?" Spike asked.

"Basically, 'tankery', or the Art of Tank Warfare had became the most widespread illegal pastime activity among rookie soldiers and privates - heck, even certain high-ranking officers joined certain teams. The problem was, the tanks that these training schools had were growing obsolete, and while the War Commissariat intended to introduce the newer, more modern tanks to the troops, the training schools were basically passively rebelling, and keeping the older tanks as well..."

"...Wait, what?" Trixie blurted out "The training schools were rebelling?"

"It wasn't the first time..." Sunset explained "During the First Pan-Equine War, the soldiers of the Imperial Army also rebelled, and assisted the Pitrograd and Mosscow Revolutionary Councils in taking control of the country, bringing an end to the war for the Northern Region, which soon separated itself from the Equestrian Monarchy, and later became known as the Northern Council Union, which, in turn, soon transformed into the Union of Communalist Council Republics..."

"Of course, those were soldiers, trained and hardened by the horrors of the war..." Gilda continued "These were just rookies. However, with the threat of war growing faint and the ponies' trust in their Supreme Secretary incomparable to any other leader's popularity at the time, simply unmatched, mainly due to the victorious outcome of the war, the War Commissariat decided that, "due to the high popularity of previously leisurely practiced activity called "tankery", they are authorizing every and each educationaly institution of the military to practice this new, previously voluntary form of practice"." she paused, impressively "That's what the official document said, word for word. Basically, training soldiers to be able to use older tanks was practical in case of another war that would require all tanks available, and it's sport-like nature improved the moral of the soldiers."

"Give it two decades, and the first civilian schools start to use the now severely outdated vehicles, along with copies of the captured or traded ones." Sunset concluded "Tankery is mainly practiced among the ponies and other creatures of the Far East, since most of them are historically known warrior nations." she thought for a moment, shuddering "In fact, during their regional championship tournaments, they won't shy away from using live rounds, either."

"Actually, most countries do tournaments with live rounds..." the griffon mused.

"WHAT?!"

"Now don't get your saddles twisted into a knot!" Gilda huffed "While the tanks on the tournaments DO use live rounds, they're also much safer, much more modern rebuilds of the original vehicles that were in use during, and after the war. They all have an inner carbon plating, some have reactive armor, and all platoons that wish to participate are required to have an automatic sprinkler system installed in the engine casing, and ventilation for the crew's compartment, which enable both heating and cooling. Their guns, however, are mandated to be exactly the same as they were back in the bad ol' days."

"I see..." Sunset replied, after her mind registered all that she had heard. The griffon went from a passive-aggressive shut-in to rambling, extrovert scholar in a matter of seconds. Finally regaining her grips on the situation, the mare popped a question:

"What makes the Naysian tournaments so outlandish, then?"

The avian sighed.

"They use the original vehicles from back then, and their platoons are notorius for disobeying just about EVERY safety regulation, both regional and international. This placed the stakes especially high, since privately-owned platoons are now allowed to enter their tournaments. In most cases, those rogue teams are just in for the kill."

"Oh..." Trixie muttered "That's... Quite dark..."

"This isn't the case everywhere, though..."

"No?"

"The Hindian platoons have very high health and safety standards, the Japonese, of course, treat tankery like any other martial art - with grace and elegance, not to mention care to keep it safe from dishonor, and the Chainese just follow the international regulations diligently." the griffon elaborated, smiling "Subsequently, they have the best platoons in the Naysian region."

Crushing the wet snow beneath their hooves, they made their way across the empty fields, just outside of the city. Far behind the sprawling suburbs and the industrial complexes fencing the city were large, unused plots of land, mostly dominated by sparse groves of evergreens or odd groups deciduous trees, barren in this season, but such is the beauty of nature. Less natural were the skeletal rows of high-voltage electricity pylons, standing across the field in all their creepy, metallic wonder, with the almost inaudible hum of electricity surrounding them as an aura of mystery.

They were heading towards the mountains - another odd, but not illogical thing within the Union was that most larger cities had their near vicinity terraformed, usually building mountains to provide a natural border to the cities, both from possible enemies and strong wind currents. The semi-micro-climates of such cities allowed weather pegasi to practice their profession - such obligation was otherwise rare in the nature-dominated lands of the North.

The tanker barracks were on nearly on the other side of the city, however, getting trough Linegrad on hooves, on a holiday, or during holiday preparations, was an absolute nightmare... Getting around it, however...

"So, how far is it?" Spike asked, peaking past the griffon's head. All he could see is white,

"Just a couple more kilometers, unless it starts to snow."

"Why? What happens if it does?" the young drake asked.

"Well, if your friends weren't the ponies they were, they'd be screwed. We're so far out that by the time help would arrive in a snowstorm, they'd be frozen. Twice." the avian explained "But considering that one of them is a fire mage, the other deals with pyrotechnics and is an electro mage, and the third one is an experienced teleporter and light mage, I think they'll be fine."

Gilda looked down.

"Are they still under us?"

Spike glanced down as well.

"Uh, yeah. Think you could carry one of them?"

"One of them, easily. Two of them, maybe. But not three of them."

"That's bad, because they're visibly running low on patience."

"Who's bucking idea was this anyway?!"

"YOURS, SHIMMER!"

"Oh... Then why didn't you talked me out of it?!"

"YOU TRY TO TALK YOURSELF OUT OF SOMETHING! LET'S SEE HOW WELL THAT'LL GO!"

The hangars were just what the name implies: hangars. Seated at the bottom of the hill, with a nice, smooth incline leading up to them, and the small "rally" area before them, the barn-like buildings were once part of a larger mining and smelting compound, until the magically raised hills ran out of metal to smelt, and the compound was deemed redundant. They knocked down most of the buildings, apart from the smelting sheds and assembly hall (now serving as the repair station and the mess hall for the small canteen found here), the service barracks (once used to house heavy machinery for the surface quarries, now housing heavy machines for sporting purposes), and the tall redbrick chimney of the smelting shed (for aesthetic reasons - after they removed the furnace, they set up a small chapel in there).

The barracks were laid down along the very edge of the gentle incline - behind them was a cliff wall, providing a natural blockade against avalanches. Each remise had seven parking slots, and they were placed diagonally next to each other, corner touching corner.

There were seven barracks in total, the one furthest away from the repair station was closed. The rest were all open (well, most slot doors were), and they could see ponies working on some of the tanks.

Landing in the snow beside the large entrance of the former smelting shed, Gilda took a glance at the three frostbitten unicorns. They just stared back at her, glumly.

"Don't be such softies!" she muttered, trying to stealthily hide her hind legs, as she raised one to get her sensitive paws out of the snow "Go to the mess hall, you can warm up, here!"

Letting Spike off her back, she called out to them once more:

"If the guys in the canteen ask, just tell them that you're with me!" she said "I'll have to check on something!"

"This is good coco..." Spike muttered, taking another sip. They were in the canteen - once the only buffet the compound had to offer, it still retained the same furniture: broad planks at the walls as eating counters, iron framed particle board tables, plastichairs, greasy oilcloth tablecloths, half empty salt cellars and completely empty pepper boxes. The canteen served ready-made food, and all flavoring and seasoning was available at the counter - the salt and pepper were just decorations.

"Yes, this is great coco..." Trixie replied, eagerly gulping it down "I'm surprised they have such a canteen in such a Harmonia-forsaken place."

"Ve'r just autside de city." one of the workponies replied in an irritated manner, before chugging down a root beer.

"I wonder what Gilda needed to attend to..." Twilight pondered.

"Presumably her own tank..." Sunset growled in respone. She was bored. Also, she wanted to see the tanks... That was the main reason they came here.

"You know what?" the azure mare asked, standing up "Let's search for her. There aren't many places she could've gone off to."

Turning to the guests of the buffet, she called out:

"Does anyone know which barrack does Gilda reside in?"

There was a long silence...

The gruff colts within the small bar eyed them intensively, in a most scrutinizing way, as if considering whether or not the visitors were worthy of the knowledge. Finally, the barkeep replied out:

"B-3, closer to the shed. She had taken out the entire remise for her platoon."

"What? All seven slots?" Sunset blurted out.

The barkeep shrugged his withers.

"Griffons are territorial..."

***

"So, this is your platoon?"

"Yes. It's not much, as we can only have 7 vehicles, but it sure packs a punch on it's own level."

"I'd say." Sunset replied, speaking with expertise. Gilda's platoon had very basic set-up, colloquially known as a Form-A, or F.A.: two light tanks, two mediums, two heavies, and a tank destroyer. A Form-B had an extra tank destroyer or a self-propelled assault gun at the expense of a heavy tank, and Form-C had an artillery piece at the expense of a light tank. A Form-D had no heavy tanks, but two mediums, two lights, and three tankettes. There was also a Form-0, also known as a "Basic form", composed of two heavies, two or three mediums, and, according to that, two or three lights. No tank destroyers, no assault guns, no artillery, no tankettes. But Form-0s were only used during tournaments, where schools could dispatch multiple, cooperating platoons. For historical re-enactments, there also existed a Form-E and F, one being entirely composed of medium tanks, the other composed of five tank destroyers and two artillery pieces.

This platoon had two light tanks: a 70-T class recon tank, the fan favorite, rare and renowned 50-2-T tank, mandatory 34-T and 34-85-T medium brawler tanks, a VK-22.0 heavy battle tank, equipped with 11-U howitzer from the VK-1 and VK-2, though not native on this vehicle. A Panther Tank Hunter, the only foreign piece in the entire platoon, though, painted in the standard winter camo of the Union's vehicles.

The most outstanding vehicle, however, left the three mares and the young drake with jaws hanging low, and eyes bugged out. Before them stood a MASSIVE heavy tank, from the VK line of vehicles - the legendary VK-V. Numbered with ancient griffin numbers as any other experimental tank, this monolithic hundred-ton beast. And while it was not without it's weak spots, this particular model seemed to surpass even it's historical, planned origin. The two frontal machine gun turrets - major weak spots located right in front of the tank's heavily armored, enormous turret, have been removed. Replacing them - and thus, reshaping the front - was a thick, curving piece of armor, with a tiny peering slot for the driver, coated with reinforced, vapor-resistant glass, and an equally minimal machine gun slot. Not even a turret, just a small slot to poke out the barrel of a Dugtearyov light machine gun. The curving, well-sloped armor formed a low collar around the huge turret, neatly covering up the bottom of the gun mantle. The lack of the two machine gun towers also meant that the turret could be slightly enlarged, which was necessary, as the tank's main gun has been swapped with another. Instead of the rather underwhelming 107 millimeter M6.ZiS gun, it was now equipped with an elongated, slightly more funnel-shaped 152 millimeter 10-M howitzer, nearly as long as the ZiS was. The commander's cupola has been lowered, and rear of the tank now possessed an additional roof armoring. The suspension seemed to be slightly reworked as well, although the extension of any interior modifications could only be observed from service, it seemed.

"Cool, isn't it?"

They quickly shut their mouths as they heard the griffon's voice... And how radically different it was.

Now with a purring, sensual, almost slick tone, the griffon came sharply around from the other side of the tank, rubbing her own side to it's tracks, much like how a cat rubs itself to people it likes.

"The VK-V mod, as we've come to call it." a workcolt, with barely noticeable local accent, spoke up "Equipped with an automatic loader, it only requires a gunner, and the 10-M's reload time has been halved, not to mention it's improved accuracy, thanks to the longer barrel."

"It's Gilda's pride and joy." said a new voice "She would sleep with it, if it wouldn't be so large and pointy."

"Oh, shut up, Dust!" said a slightly enamored-sounding Gilda" rebuttled, laying sprawled across the top of the turret.

"Dust?" the mares asked, turning towards the source of the voice. At the rear of the tank stood a turquoise green pegasus with an amber crest and tail, the latter left long and fuzzy, the former cut into something resembling a mohawk. Her cutie mark - a crackling lightning bolt with stardust surrounding it - barely peaked out of the oil-soaked green overalls. Having just finished cleaning a wrench, she placed the tool back onto the table beside her. Amber eyes, bold and daring, gazed at the four newcomers.

"The name's Lightning Dust." she said, smirking "Ace mechanic and Number One Scout in the whole of Equestria, the Union included."

There was a short pause.

"A bald statement." Sunset replied, a hint of expertise in her voice, as she eyed up the pony "I assume you're the driver of the 70-T..."

"Indeed I am." Lightning replied, her cocking grin growing just a little bit softer "Need help?"

"Nah, we're fine..." the fiery mare answered, gazing around lazily "Just visiting."

Her eyes stopped at the drop of a bit, glancing a sideway glance at the pegasus "We'd like to battle."

"WHAT?!"

"First round: you guys remain stationary. Only your turrets can turn. Which means the Panther doesn't play. We play with ONE tank from your platoon. If you render the tank immobile on the first round, you win. If we shoot down all but one of you, the last one remaining will have to fight with us, one-on-one."

Lightning's smile disappeared. A scowl as cold as ice replaced it.

Thunder could be heard from outside. The whiteness of the blizzard turned even whiter for a moment.

The wind has picked up.

There was a moment.

Unexplainable for anyone who doesn't seen artisanship and art in a warrior's moves.

It didn't linger long enough for anyone to comprehend.

Apart from Twilight...

Trixie...

Spike...

Gilda...

"Alright." Lightning whispered, the wind rattling the windows as she spoke "Chose your vehicle."

Sunset slowly moved her gaze away from her.

At first, her glance fell on the 34 and the 34-58. She quickly dismissed them with a small shake of her head. As her gaze fell on the 50-2-T, she could feel the crew tense up around her, so she turned away from it with a wry smile. She didn't even bothered to glance at the VK-22.0...

Instead, she turned her attention to the VK-V. On top of the turret, Gilda's feathers and fur stood on edge, as she subconsciously gripped the edges of her resting place.

After a long pause, Sunset tore her eyes away from her. Slowly, her eyes wandered across the room, finally landing on the last candidate.

Her eyes met with Lightning's again. The pegasus's glare turned into a glower, and her eyes seemed to be glowing by this point. Sunset's own eyes seemed to flicker with fire, as she allowed a positively wicked grin to spread on her face...

She uttered those faithful words...

"I'll take yours..."

Land of the Free Callsacks

This train was one of the older models. The coaches didn't match the engine (and even each other in the case of some), and showed signs of age: rust, dents, and chipped paint here and there, though calling the dilapidated would've been quite the stretch. They were pulled by a highly streamlined engine. Some say it was an Amareican design, but the 2-3-2B was an entirely domestic machine, thought it's overall appearance may have been inspired by the works of Loevee... The boiler sat atop the wheels like a great big bullet (or missile, according to some), with the five-pointed star on it's tip, pierced by a large headlamp, molded to complete the bullet's cone, with the star decor itself painted in two colors, diagonally: silver on the top side, and black on the bottom, to signify it's traverse between the Union and the Territory.

The 'Autonomous Territory', or "Free Territory", as it was known colloquially (simply named as "Yucrane" by it's dwellers) was... Quite the head-turner, at least in a geopolitical sense.

It's people revolted against the relentless onslaught of the two big competitors during the Civil War, and formed it's own militia. Initially, these local "green armies" were politically neutral and quite ineffective, until a novice revolutionary, released along with the other political prisoners in Mosscow, came home to complete his task.

His name was Пастор Макро, and it was he who brought order into the disheveled bunch, and in the most surprising way possible. Organizing the green armies under a new banner - one that was all black, and showed a frightening image to all those who stoop up against the revolution, both with a literal and metaphoric symbolism, woven into the flag: a skull and crossbones, not to distant from the one pirates used in the colonial era, yet far from being the same as well, with one, clear message around it: Свобода або Cмерть! - "Freedom or Death!".

This new armed force's name was quite a mouthful: "The Revolutionary Insurrectionary Army of Yucraine", so most simply called it the "Black Army", and it's members...

Well, if anything, Батько Макро sure taught them, the Communalist Greys and the Tsarist Byelos one thing, which the entire world had to learn as well:

That Anarchy is Order.

The anarchists were initially the underdogs of the Civil War, using partisan techniques and sabotage, first, to chase off arrogant landlords and factory owners, then, to fight of the local "king" and his raiding army of mercenaries and nationalists. Giving true power to the peasants in the countryside, once an area was stabilized, they moved on, continuing the fight. Enrolling volunteering smallholders and lower-ranking landlords that were willing to join their cause, the pacified locations could resume life with new, locally organized "free councils", and experts (aforementioned smallholders and landlords) guiding the former serfs in their work.

Once the Black Army began to liberate cities, the Communalists finally noticed them. Initially, they considered them to be a mere nuisance, but as they grew in number, and began to take over - or rather, take back - regions captured by the Greys, the kommissars began to see them as more of a threat.

However, as the White Guard closed in around Yucrane, there were increasing cries for negotiations in both armies.

At long last, the leaders of the Workers' and Peasants' Steel Army and the Revolutionary Insurrectionary Army met, and discussed the situation. Makro viewed Linen with both admiration and unease. The high-flying, passionate leader of the Greys served as a great inspiration during his years in prison, however, meeting him in person, the former lawyer seemed... A bit detached from his followers. But more unsettling where his two head commissars: the tactical mastermind, and seemingly always angry Trotsky, and the cold and secretive Steel Ink. Nevertheless, Linen welcomed him, and they set of to discuss a truce between the two armies. However, try as he might, the Supreme Commissar couldn't keep himself from steering the negotiations away from battle tactics, and onto the fields of philosophy and ideology. Makro was a simple, straightforward, earthy type, while the ranting, constantly walking, thinking and talking Linen was clear example of unicorn scholar, his fate sign being an anchor with two hammers crossed over it, with a large, red star serving as a background, clearly visible against his brown fur and reddish crest and tail. Trotsky's fur was a bleached, dirty white, making his wavy and curly, disheveled dark brown crest and tail and black, round glasses stick out quite a lot. His fate mark was a plough shown from the profile, crossed with a large hammer, both contained within a large red star, with a bayonet-bearing rifle placed diagonally behind it. Steel Ink was of a darker beige color with a dark gray, almost black tail and neatly combed-back crest, his rather streamlined-looking face dominated by a profound moustache. His fate mark was more streamlined, "sharper" red star with a hammer and sickle crossed within it.

He remained silent trough the conversation, cooly eyeing up the newcomer from down south. His expression showed no contempt or curiosity, just unambiguous observation.

Trotsky initially seemed to hold some sort of vendetta against the young rebel, however, once his peasant origin and simple take on the world and his duty was revealed, he started to see the yucrainian as more amiable equine - especially when he passed on some unique tips, tactics and strategy that he has been using to fight the Whites.

Following Makro's suggestion, the Communalists resumed the usage of the red banner (which they've ceased to utilize momentarily during the war, so as to detach themselves from the utopian philosophers that Coal Marks has criticized, who used the same banner to call the workers of the world into union), and instead, started to use the steel gray color on their military markings (which is how they used it initially), namely, the five-pointed stars on their hats, helmets and vehicles.

Working together, the Black and (recently re-christened) Red Armies drove the Byelos out of Yucrane.

And again, as the end of the Civil War drew near, tension rose between the two allies. For a long time, it seemed that the Reds would eventually turn against the anarchists, however, a last-minute decision from an already ill Linen changed the newly formed Union's approach in the Yucrainians' favor. Deemed to be a "relatively successful social experiment thus far", they granted the Free Territory (and along with it, the newly formed Belostrana) independence. Some might say that this was due to the pressure of the one-year anniversary of the independence that Princess Celestia granted them, but after so many years, who knows, really?

One thing for certain: the ponies of Free Yucrane knew no gods, no masters.

Yet, there were two figures they admired.

Makro wasn't among them. Sure, he was heralded as a hero of his people, but, much like Linen, he tried to make his comrades follow the ideology and not him, and, unlike Linen, he actually got his point trough. He was only given a small statue in the town he was born in, which was quite handy for those who wanted to give him a final respect, as his grave was left unmarked upon his request.

One of the figures was, oddly enough, Princess Opscura. For some odd reason, ponies genuinely believed that the Princess of Darkness had aided them in their quest against the tsarist and nationalists. Of course, prior to the annunciation of the Three Sisters, she was known to them as "Nightmare Moon".

The other one was an even more enigmatic than the legendary Mare of Eternal Darkness. Rumor has it that it was he who "convinced" the very first Troika to grant the anarchists their freedom.

They still kept in touch, though, the first few generation of troikas kept giving the "Autonomous Territory" (as they called it) the cold shoulder, hoping that it's dwellers' measly resistance will be crushed with the collapse of their "economy", if such small trade activity could be called such.

Turns out, it didn't.

In fact, it only helped the Yucrainians gain the skills and experience they needed for self-sufficiency, and strengthened their sense of independence. Their micro-economy was self contained, simple trading and barter made money useless.

It was only the War's engulfment of the World that forced Yucrane, along with Belostrana, to join forces with the U.C.C.R., in order to defeat the Reich's armies - as they did with the Astro-Hungerian Army before, and the White Guard soon after that.

The War... Was Tartarus.

It devastated both land and equine, leaving the vast Callsack country a scarred, ruined waste pit. For once, the Union offered it's aid, heck, even Belostrana did. Of course, both offers came with the same conditions: the Yucrainians surrender their liberties, the Makrochina (a nickname for the, by then, elder Makro's army) disarms, and they give up on the whole anarchist tomfoolery, and become a proper state - a satellite state, to be precise.

Needless to say, the ponies refused, and rebuilt their country on their own.

But things did change. Industry has gained a much greater role than it had before, as they discovered the various riches the country's mountains had to offer. Agriculture was modernized, and education, in a form that was both similar, yet different from what was popular at the time, was made mandatory... Trough peer pressure, mostly. This form of scholarship later served as the base of many "alternative schools" that sprung up in the following decades, and by the time of the Changeling Rebellion, it became the norm, though, every country had it's version of it.

Industrial exploits mainly revolved around smaller mines, connected with local foundries, which were, in turn, trading and allying themselves with nearby manufactures, many of which had their speciality, and "orders" for their products came from all around the country. As road conditions were similar to those of the Union's "roads", the necessity for a form of transportation became increasingly urgent. The railway has already proved itself useful within the Union, and ~~deserting~~ volunteering engineers travelled to the Territory were happy to help. Soon enough (in a matter of 20 years), the country had a proper railway system, and it's dwellers became interconnected. Other countries began to took notice of the rising wonder, and (under the watchful eye of the Union) decided to (quite literally, at times) trade with the anarchist region. Eventually, so did the Union.

It was this trade connection that made the two railways (albeit, with different gauges, requiring transfer stations) connect as well.

Still, the lack of any form of existing government made the free territory rank quite low on the list of tourist destinations (well, apart from the lists of sociology and economics students).

Visitors were few and far between.

But the Yucrainians, and the land, was anything but hostile.

"Well... This is certainly different..." Twilight mused, as she stepped out onto the small platform. The station they stopped at was not particularly huge, but more along the lines of a branchline station. The two rail lines distanced themselves from each other as the station came into view, so both were shouldered by a shared goods and passenger platform on either side. The building in between the two lines served as the warehouse, while the two other buildings and platforms contained puritan waiting rooms for passengers, connected via an underpass on the eastern end, and an overpass at the western end. The goods depot usually contained the post and small deliveries, universal spare parts for the train, along with a coal hopper leaning over both tracks and a dual water tower.

The passenger platforms on the sides were cleaned of snow, which compensated for the lack of roof the goods platforms had in the middle.

Leaving the train, they trotted trough the simple, empty station, and out onto the cobblestone road. The distant buildings of the nearby town were in vicinity, across an empty field with a clump of deciduous trees, now all barren, their black barks and sharply angled, spike-like branches making them akin to humongous, broken-boned claws trying to slash into the cloud-cowered sky. The air was still, and very cold. It lacked that distinguishable wetness of the winter aura. It was... Pure. But also, bloodcurdlingly cold.

"Hooohhh..." Spike shivered in his coat "It wasn't this cold in Linengrad, and that's the highest up north we've been!"

"It's the mountains!" Sunset explained, pointing a hoof at the steep, towering elevations, standing tall in the distance, still well inside their view of the horizon, but giving generous amounts of space for the valley between them to expand. There was no ridgeline, the individual monstrums of black rock stood close, yet, solitary among each other, giving them a jagged, curtain-esque look, their peaks richly cowered in snow.

"Beautiful, but what of them?"

"The carbonic mountains of this region ensnare the weather conditions for prolonged amounts of time. During the summer, the sweltering heatwave may have passed the region, but these valleys will still be like fire pits. During the winter, even if thaw is near, they remain Dante's freezer."

"Ooooohh... Who's Dante?"

"Look, we gotta find a sculptor named Thundra, right? She's said to be living in one of the local phalansteries near here." Trixie mumbled, shivering "Let's just find her and get the hay out of here. This place gives me the creeps."

"It's only because of winter. It strips down the flora, and quiets the fauna, giving this place an unnatural, unnerving aura." Twilight replied, trying to soothe her.

"The Genocide Memorial in Bearling is unnerving, this place is creepy!"

"I don't think that's a good comparison..." Spike replied, as they began to trot down the cobblestone road, following it's curving path towards the village. It was an indirection, due to the roads nature, but they didn't mind - after stumbling into the icy snow when exiting the station's waiting hall, they quickly decided to always stay on the paved path. The locals build the roads, for convenience's sake, but each community had it's own version of them. Going around on the curve, the cobblestone suddenly changed to hard pressed wood planks, bearing a striking resemblance to japoneese wood paths used traditionally around temples and on wetlands. There was a dense forest near by, and the logging village there decided they'd try out something oriental. Pity the icy, wet wood was slippery like Tartarus, making the three ponies and the young drake skid to the next comblestone path. After some ice ballet and a few tumbles, they arrived practically at the entrance of the town. It was a small community, consisting of only a few dozen houses, barely enough to form five streets in a class "I" shape. A few ponies were outside, mostly cleaning their porch of snow of pouring sawdust onto the street before their porches.

After a bit of nudging, cursing and an eventual slap on the flank, Sunset begrudgingly trotted up to one of the locals, asking for information about Thundra and the sculpture. The others, meanwhile, had a chance to take a more thorough look around. Most of the buildings were built from stone, and had either tile or straw roofs. The only outsider to this trend was the local church. While Makro's actions were never directed against the equines of the cloth, priests still had a tendency to abandon their parsonages, either out of fear of divine punishment for letting their "lambs wander astray", or the more secular, but nonetheless dangerous retaliation of the revolutionaries. Others, inspired by said revolutionaries' strong will and desire for freedom and equality, joined their ranks as chaplains, abandoning the holy buildings. Whilst the Reds treated holy ponies indiscriminately to other demagogues, the anarchist were more willing to accept their disposition in the matter of faith. After the civil war and the Pan-Equine War, though, priest decided to instead form communities like the others, akin to religious orders - except that they accepted outsider, and kept trading with others.

The churches fell in a state of disrepair. Random lightning strikes and arsonist burned them down, the weather eroded their structure and the storms fell their towers. Communities which chose to abandon religious practiced simply tore them down for materials, or repurposed them as libraries, warehouses or town halls - trying not to disrespect the buildings past.

The church in this town - Камінь Форт - was an older one built mostly from wood, and while they didn't demolish it, they couldn't spare the money to repair it. It's frame had warped and withered, forcing them the prop up the main building's walls with logs, while the windows were either smothered with dirt and dust smeared onto them, or were nothing more than empty, glassless frames. As the metal rods and large pickets that kept the corners of the building intact and the logs of the walls in place had eroded into hinges, making the church "shake it's chapel" during storms. But the most noteworthy was it's tower, is it was facing the street - the wood rooted green, the windows all broken and the frames disjointed and crooked, and the entire structure leaning slightly toward the street, which was only amplified by the fact that it was the part of the building facing it, the entrance on it's front not only boarded, but barricaded with planks and rocks thrown haphazardly on the stairs leading to the double-winged doors, one missing. The spire, built, oddly enough, seemingly out of large copper tiles, was twisted and crooked, leaning to the side, weathered green and discoloring the wood directly underneath it.

It was dark and forlorn, with the two oil lamps in front of it showing near similar signs of age, as if no-one had touched them in years...

The building was seated away from the street, with two rows of crooked, visibly dead trees leading up to it. The roadside before the church's lawn was still cowered in snow, and, as the remaining hoofprints on the road's trampled snow revealed, the locals were keen to avoid even getting it's lawn, let alone stepping on it. No animal tracks could be found across the sleety snow, as if even Mother Nature has condemned the land the building stood upon. Tall fences bordered the oblong land, but only on two sides, making the church appear to stand in pathway of nothingness, as the grayish white of the valley and the sky expanded and fused behind it, making it look like it was erected out of a white haze. Not only that, but there weren't any family houses on either side of the fence - the right neighbor was a large barn repurposed as a warehouse combined with an item lender's office, and to the left, a garage for the community's motorized tractors, farming equipment, and a few remaining armored, tracked vehicles from the times of the war, all well maintained and looked after. It was noteworthy that the warehouse had no windows facing the church, and the garage was built in such close proximity to the fence that the church wouldn't be visible from any of the parking slots.

"Alright, apparently, Miss Thundra has dropped the statue off at the local blacksmith's." Sunset explained, returning from her conversation with the communard "It's a family business, and they're known to be burly, but warm hearted. A father, who runs the shop, his wife who works as some type of manager on the fields, a young daughter and a son, old enough to join the voluntary militia, but they keep him home for the winter. The smith was putting on some polish on the statue, as per requested by Thundra herself."

After a brief moment of silence, she caught notice of her friends' wide-eyed, pallid faces. Following the direction they were googling at, she took her time to oogle at the dilapidated church herself, gaining a similar expression, before shaking it off, and dragging the three down the road.

"OK, that's enough spirit watching, let's get to that blacksmith."

***

"Vould yoo like another kup of tee?" Залізний Рудник asked. Coming from a family of blacksmiths, he was the first to break the family vocation lineage by marrying an agricultural worker. His wife, Літона Урожай was an harvest manager, of course, this meant she couldn't work during the winter, but she didn't mind - she could spend more time with her family. The lack of work and physical exercise also meant she put on some extra weight during every winter, which she then progressively worked off during the next spring. This was, by no means a problem - with spring, the season of blossoming turning up, she looked like a modest fertility symbol, along with some of the other women in the community. And stallions kinda liked 'em curvy around these parts. Her husband, in particular, was a profound equine of the curves, but he loved her either way. She was still in her bulking up stage this early in winter, but this was already enough fluff for her daughter, Сяюча Зірка, to get the "snuggles" around her. Thus, she spent most of her days relaxing, cooking and snuggling with her daughter, husband, or occasionally, her son.

"It iz rare that ve get visitors around here." she explained, as her daughter clinged to her lovingly. She petted her wings, and the white pegasus only squirmed closer to her, opening just one bright, green eye to peek at her mother, her gray mane scuffled under her mother's hooves. True to her name, Summer Harvest was honey gold coated, with a fresh grain yellow mane, gazing at the world with green eyes, which her daughter took after.

Coal Mine, on the other hand, was pale white with a black crest and tail, with a robust, muscular body, undeniably a result of many years of hard work. Aside from his smithy in the town, he sometimes also collaborated with other smiths and construction workers for large building projects. He practically never took off the working apron - well, except when he was spending quality time with his wife, of course.

"Miss Thundra iz yoor typikal phalanster-dweller." he explained "Jumpy, always muttering to herself, and burying her head into her studies. Sculpting iz something she does in for leisure."

"What's the sculpture about?" Twilight asked. The smith scratched his beard.

"It iz one of her most impressive vorks. Definitely the most impressive I've ever seen. Solid steel, the shapes pried out from a large spike, made by the nearby foundry." he paused for a moment "But it iz a symbolic work, and I kan't decipher it. You'll hav' to see it for yoorselves."

"OK..." Twilight mused, returning to her tea.

There was a long pause.

"What's with that church?" Trixie asked.

The question, once asked, hung in the air heavily. The two callsacks exchanged looks, then, with a sigh, Залізний replied:

"The Church of the Forgotten Martyrs. Built in the name of those vho died in the name of Harmonia, vay before the civil var."

"An almost 300-years-old building." Літонa added, taking the word from her husband "And a crooked place, trough and trough..."

"How so?" the blue mare asked, increasingly curious.

"Befor' the revolution, this church served as a front."

"A front?" the three mares asked in unison, puzzled altogether.

"For who? Or what?" Sunset asked.

"A cult." Залізний replied darkly, poking the fire "It vas an extension of the Inquisition, long after their fall, that had an outpost here."

"They vere called: Ignis Deae, or "Goddess' Fire"." Літонa went on "A merciless order, with their bases spread out all around the country, spying on people, orchestrating pogroms and witch hunts. They vere manic, paranoid, and xenophobic, having travelled from all the vay down south, exiling themselves into these kold regions, to a foreign land. Yoo kould find their monasteries and nunneries all around the countryside."

"The things their monks hav' kommitted." the blacksmith added, placing another log in "Many of their aktions later inspired the invading gearmanes on how to "get us in line". That's vhy so many churches are left in ruins in these valleys. We kould never tell if they vere the pulpits of honest priests, or the disguised torture chambers of the order."

"Their nuns vere no different." his wife continued "They veren't permitted to use violence, but they vere kolder than vinter itself. They'd rather let the poor die than to give any from the stock, and they regularly taxed those in the vicinity of their nunnery. If the ponies didn't pay up, the monks would come to "cleanse them from their sins"."

Both ponies shuddered, and the three mares exchanged nervous glances.

"That, of course, vas not the end. All locked up in their little forts, these kold, shrewd, but still rather young mares had no one but themselves..."

She paused, and glanced at her daughter. Nodding, the little filly covered her ears tight.

"They got up to all sorts of debauchery, and often the most obscene and positively while acts of perversion and deviancy. Nopony knew vhat vent on in these forts of theirs. If they got found out, however, the monks vould kome, and cleanse them, publicly..."

"There were stories..." the stallion added, staring ponderously into the fire "A lone stallion, or a monk from another, truly holy order in disguise vould knock on their door, and ask for shelter for a night. They vould take him in, and he vould become their koncubine, a physical subject to all their karnal, depraved fantasies. They'd keep him until he died of exhaustion, then dispose of the body in the large furnaces they hid under the altars, a feature shared by both nunneries and monasteries shared."

"If any offspring vould spawn of these kareless aktions, they vould leave the little ones to die, or trust them in the hands of the locals. That's vhy phalasters kame to existence here in the first place, to counter the order's presence." Літонa added, taking the lead of the monologue once again "The order, of course, had great influence. Many landlords only allowed their presence because the order served as an additional tax income, or used them as their private army. Other landlords joined the debauchery of the nunneries, to fend off their own depraved desires. Some vere simply powerless against them, having their heads in their hooves. During the konfusion of the civil war, the local "little tsar" at Kiyev had sworn to chase them away, but it vasn't until Makro and his army vas formed, and the landlords began to fall one by one, that the monks and nuns began to run away. Makro had ordered his army to kill them vithout trial or jury, and they vere the only ones he directly ordered to be killed. They never kaught them, but the kountry had it's revenge: they kouldn't escape before the vinter arrived, and they all froze to death, before they kould leave the border behind them."

"This is just one big horror story." Trixie muttered, in a depressed manner, as Shining Star uncovered her ears.

"Not all of them vere like this." the smith added, concluding the tale "Some monks vere genuine ponies of faith, and spent their time preaching to the locals in pubs, or in the town halls. Vhen the revolution came, they discarded their robes, and joined the ranks, especially after hearing what their "brothers" have been doing. Indeed, they vere the one vho searched for the order the most fervently, and had been core members of the militia since."

"The nuns, too, vere not all succubi in disguise." the farmer mare put in "Many spent their time aktually meeting the locals and learning about their faith, and helping them. Vhen the aktions of the order vere brought to light, they joined the phalansters to atone the sins of their cult secularly, as nurses, doktors, engineers, and, in some cases, as soldiers as vell."

As the conversation finally returned from the dark, Twilight took a look around, and asked:

"Where's your son, by the way?"

"Ah, Глибоко Врожай... Such a ponderous young stallion." Літонa sighed, with the love of a mother "Reminds me of his father when he was his age."

"Так! But I vas left ponderous by you, мій золотий урожай!" the aforementioned chuckled, before, quite ironically, pondering out loud "Sometimes Iy worry about that kolt. Yoo see, he's very gifted vith visual arts, but Iy do not think that it'll make him happy in the long run..."

"The artist's job isn't to be happy, it is to create art!" Trixie exclaimed, enthusiastically.

"True, but yoo kan't expect his parent NOT to worry for him!" the blacksmith argued "Anyways, if you vant to meet him, he iz in his study on the top floor. He's currently showing our other guest his drawings..."

"Other guest?!" the mares asked, already on their way to the stairs.

"Yes, she arrived sometime before you."

Working Artist

"...And this one is of the Harmonia's Maidens Nunnery, located in between the two valleys, on the passage towards the sea."

"...Now that's jus' plain creepy."

"...It is... They say that this was the place where they committed the most depraved, though, not the most vile form of deviant obscenities... As you can see, it's tower is the most tallest and sturdiest of all, and the support of the copper spire on top of it has collapsed, making it wonky..."

"Wonky?"

"It is constantly bobbing back and forth in the high wind during nights, though, it never falls off, as it is too heavy, and it is so far high up that the sound barely reaches down..."

"Still creepy fer me..."

"Not so much as the others were... Check out these aerial sketches..."

"Even creepier..."

"Maybe... That large hole torn into the corner there made me feel like I was staring down on a screaming face."

"...Did you really had to mention that, sugahcube?"

The conversation was the first thing that reached them, as they ascended the dark, narrow stairway. It opened up into an expansive room, rectangular in base, but distorted by the boxy protrusion of the stairway's exit, the top of which now serving as a shelf for bits and bobs, haphazardly objects that used to be just laying around, before the attic was cleared out for the adolescent colt. The ridge of the roof and it's structure was supported by two pillars, now serving as the base of shelves as well, one holding books, the other, equipment for painting and drawing. There were a few blank canvases stacked near a wall, and quite a few with actual paintings on them... They were very live-like, almost to a photorealistic level, all depicting landscapes or certain ponies, no doubt, from the surrounding area. The sketches were a bit different. Rather than depicting everyday activities, they were portraits of certain ponies, both familiar, famous, and fictional. There were drawings of fantastic scenes, and depictions of machines beyond their wildest imagination. Phantasmagoria, ever-present throughout the collages.

The artist, on his general equestrian name: Deep Harvest, was standing before one such collection. As an interesting splice between his parents' genes, his fur was burning red, while his crest and tail were in a blazing, yellowish white color. His cutie mark was precisely defined white silhouette of a sickle, cutting, or rather, arching around a flower's white stem, the flower itself being in the shape of a five-pointed red star, with white outlines, and the petals twisting counter-clockwise. His eyes, dark brown like his father's, zigzagged between his own work and the face of his visitor. The guest in question was an orange mare with a hay-colored mane and tail, both tied at the end by a green and a red band. Her brilliant green eyes settled on the unsettling imagery before her. Her cutie mark, three apples with their stem pointing inwards, forming a peak-down triangle shape, was clearly visible on her flank.

The three mares and the drake took notice of four different details:

Sunset observed the two ponies.

The mare was, undeniably, a farmer, more precisely, an applefarmer, as several factors (cutie mark, accent, stature, being an earth pony, the shape and size of her flanks, plot and hind legs) supported this. To be even more specific, a member of the Apple family, one of the most widely known apple producers on the Equestrian Maneland. Heck, some of them even gained very high positions in the foodstuff department of many local governments. Another thing to note about them was their high intelligence. Their southerner appearance and traditions deceived quite a few, until the emergence of AppleSoft, the groundbreaking OS and hardware producer company that steamrollered the market, leaving only two considerable competitors: the quiet and practical, community-forged Lunix system, and the monolithic MacroMark, with it's spearheading product, the Screens™.

Despite the progress and success some Apples made, the majority of them prefered to stick with their roots, and continue their lives as farmers. In fact, some made their success without leaving the farm. The Apples were classical capitalist, who didn't dreamt of political influence or a private army, heck, not even a huge fortune, just a working business. That's how a branch of the family wound up in the Union of Councils, bringing inland applefarming to the Northern Region, which now made up a considerable bulk of the Union's income, as they were the only ones who could organically grow apples in the winter. Among the leaders of the many greenhouse farms are the geniuses that brought forth this idea, coming to the only place that was open to such innovation. Sure, it was a state-run business, but the state trusted them enough to let them lead their workers, and they took pride in that.

The stallion was an earth pony as well. He had the same stature as his father, but without his gait and bulk. He was already taller than him, and will probably end up even taller, as his growth wasn't quite finished. Sunset also took note of the brown Stetson and the worn, greenish-brown budenovka with a black five-pointed star outline on it's front, both on a nearby table. Both seemed to be passed down through generation, though the Stetson seemed to be older, while the budenovka was more battle-worn.

Trixie's observation was more in regards of the room and the artwork:

Despite being an older building, the two sides of the roof had large skylights, and the roll of shutters were visible at their top. Two, large bulbed lamps provided a clear, white light under the gray sky. The room was sparsely furnitured, had a floor carpet, and an electric heater plugged in, as the heating didn't run all the way up to the attic. The vast majority of the Northern Region wasn't controlled by weather teams, and the whole of Yucrane being a part of that majority, residents had to learn to adapt to the weather instead. None of the pictures in the room were framed or hanged up, though some were stuck to the wall using adhesive putty. There weren't many paintings - only about a dozen, compared to the nearly sixty or seventy coal and pencil drawings. There weren't any drafts. Whatever this colt had drawn, he was content with it.

And yet, there was sense of detachment within these works, as if the artist had only made them half-heartedly, which seemed impossible, considering their quality. No, this was a sensation that the blue mare had witnessed before... Ponies, most notably adolescent students, doing things they were good at, but for one reason: to do something productive in their lives. They weren't living up to their full potentials, as they were pursuing their hobbies, not their special talents. His cutie mark was even further proof of this theory. The orange mare, on the other hand, seemed like a more simpler, "average" case (if such even exists): a southern belle, with appreciation towards obvious talent, even if secondary.

Spike took in the scent of the room:

Obviously, the stallion only worked, but never dined or slept here. His preferred tool was charcoal, though, he also used graphite just as regularly, while paint, of multiple kind, was rarely used. His fur also permeated by the smell of iron, possibly due to his role as an assistant next to his father. He seemed to be slightly anemic, though, that could be a result of the local climate, and he didn't inherit his mother's metabolism. The applefarmer was more healthier, and stronger, although the stallion seemed to have huge reserves of stamina, enabling his body to autopilot throughout the night, countless nights, while he created, only to wake up from his daze at noon. Developing this work-driven insomnia might have lead to him developing his weakness, despite his stature. His pheromones betrayed his expression, at least for the young drake: he was flustered by the presence of the mare, and he could already tell that others have entered his room. Yes, he definitely claimed this room to be his own, The mare had no interest in him, though she did found him a hoofsome fellow. Her scent indicated multiple siblings, an older brother, a younger sister, and possibly some elder, presumably a mare.

Twilight kept staring at the mare. She was sure that she had seen her before... And that voice...

"Well, I can't say I was expecting a visitor, let alone five." Глибоко muttered, although a shy smile still resided in the corners of his mouth "Добридень! Я Глибоко Урожай! Or Deep Harvest, if you prefer that."

"Wow... You don't even have an accent..." Sunset was impressed "Sorry to barge in unannounced, but..."

"No no, it's fine..." the stallion replied, taking in the sight of his new guests... "Welcome to me... Gallery, I guess... I heard you met my parents..."

"Yes..." Sunset replied, with a rare smile "They're very charming people..."

"They sure are..." the orange mare sniffed, cooly...

"Oh, sorry..." the fiery unicorn replied hastily, noticing that she hit a soft spot.

"Nevahmind..." the applefarmer sighed "But who'r ya, strangers?"

"Ah, excuse us..." the purple unicorn replied "My name is Twilight Sparkle..."

"I'm Sunset Shimmer..."

"And I'm the Grrrreat and POWERRRFULL-- OOF!! I mean, I'm Beatrix Lulamoon... But just call me Trixie."

"And I'm Spike. Pleased to meet ya!"

"Well, it's a pleasure making your acquaintance!" the farmpony replied, shaking the hooves (and claws) of each of them. She had a (quite unsurprisingly) strong hoof "The name's Applejack, but just call me AJ."

She stopped, dead in her track, as she noticed the scholarly unicorn mumbling to herself.

"...Beg yer pardon?" AJ asked, picking up something coherent from the murmur.

"...And her nickname is AJ-I GOT IT!" Twilight's sudden cheer made the others jump "The southern accent, the cutie mark, the cowpony hat..."

"It's a Stetson..."

"...The Stetson hat, reaction to parents being mentioned, the sporadic vocabulary."

"...Ah wouldn't call it sporadic, to be frank... Oh."

"Now all I need to know is WHY she's visiting the Northern Region!" Twilight exclaimed, rushing her words "Because, because, brave new world or not, no southern pony would be keen on travelling to the Union of Councils, unless..."

"Mah family has business 'ere..." Applejack replied, as nonchalantly as she could muster "Well, not exactly here, but..."

"Within the Union!" the purple pony cried "Specifically, the agricultural sector, which is almost entire state owned! And, unless this is a very far-off branch of the family, they're probably working with the apple production..."

"...And they do!" the orange mare mused, nodding.

"And there's only one, distinct family that runs any form of "business" in the name of the state within the Union of Communalist Council Republics!"

"The Apple family!" the others (baring AJ) exclaimed, roped in by the lavender unicorn's enthusiasm.

"And finally..." Twilight exhaled "Your nickname, which isn't really a nickname at all, oh no!"

She approached the orange earth pony, who took a step back, slightly intimidated by the live brainstorm.

"Applejack is your nickname, but to everypony who knows you closely, it has almost completely replaced your full name, as your real name is a bit long to always pronounce."

She stopped, peering into the eyes of the mare, now up against the wall, taking tentative steps to either side, in case she needed to run.

"AJ is the monogram of your name." Twilight announced, with a content smile on her face "Your full name is Apple Jacqueline."

The others (apart from the stallion and the applefarmer) were dumbfounded.

"Ap... Apple Jacqueline?!" Spike uttered.

"Who... Is she?" Deep asked.

Twilight smiled, and, nodding theatrically, began:

"Apple Granedine Smith, wold-renowned inventor was the first one to create an aircraft that could last long enough to fly across the ocean, allowing earth ponies to travel between continents, a privilege that, before her, could only be accomplished by the most strongest, fastest and capable pegasi and griffs. That she did at the age of 20. At the age of 25, she patented the Optimal Food Conservation Method, which allowed us to be able to carry fresh fruits and vegetables to faraway lands struck by war and famine. At the age of 30, she married Orange Wendell Lloyd, also known as Orange Well, her foalhood friend, and had three foals at the age of 35: Orange Mall, the mare who brought the concept of market halls, and later, super-, and hypermarkets into reality, all on the island of Manehattan. By then, Granedine was 55. Apple Field, who started a successful business in making apple-related products in the small, coastal town of Neigh York, which came to vener his name, when Granedine was 60. And finally, Apple Oracle Hard, who was the first to combine ranch farming with small gardens, using apple trees, creating a new form of agricultural land, the "orchard". He didn't move away from home, staying in the town of Ponyville, along with the now elderly "Granny Smith", now 65. Oracle lived a peaceful life. He married a clever, cheerful mare by the name of Clover Nadine, a local polymath. She gave birth to three foals... But none of them could meet their grandfather by then..."

At this part of the 'story', Twilight's voice suddenly dropped, realizing she had probably reached a sensitive topic. She glanced to the side; Applejack's expression remained nonchalant.

With a deep breath, she continued:

"Oracle and Clover's happy life was cut short by two tragedies: a sudden stock market crash left the businesspony side of the Apples in poverty. The Oranges eventually rebuilt, but the branch that lived in the "Big Apple", which got it's namesake from them, died out. The second disaster... Was more close to home..."

No... She couldn't continue...

Applejack was staring into nothingness, her gaze avoiding everyone's in the room.

Sunset swallowed, and took the mantle:

"After giving birth to her third foal, Clover had suffered a stroke. It came out of nowhere, as she didn't lived a lifestyle that would've induced it, but some say that that was exactly what caused it. The sudden, repeated strain of foalbirth. She survived, but was left paralytic to her left side. Her personality changed, as the damage altered her mind. She became embittered, "wilted", as her husband put it. Unable to work on in the orchard or come up with new ideas, she attempted suicide, and was hospitalized, where she finally died, showing off her outstandingly strong will in the most terrifying way: deliberately holding her breath, even against her body's every attempt to keep her alive, until her lungs collapsed."

"Господи!" the stallion exhaled. The orange mare remained stoic.

"Oracle was devastated, and had reportedly blamed himself for his wife's death. The tragedy also pushed him into an existential crisis, although other's claimed he wasn't the philosophical type."

"Or the alcoholic..." the farmer mumbled under her breath.

"One night, he went out into the field, searching for something. When morning came, he was nowhere to be found. Presumed dead, his foals, Biggar Macintosh, Apple Jacqueline and Apple Bloomery were thrust into the hooves of Granedine, aged 70..."

Sunset stopped, taking a deep, shaky breath, and glancing at Trixie. The blue unicorn pointed at herself, and Sunset nodded. Clearing her throat, Trixie continued with a sincere tone.

"The foals seemed to follow the steps of other, noted family members. At the age of 15, "Big" Macintosh got his hooves at a Unix home programmer system, something he bought from the first payment he got, working on the family farm. He set up the machine, and under one night, designed an operating system, and hardware, that would serve as the basis of all future AppleSoft products. Under the next five years, he built up AppleSoft without even leaving the farm, and while continuing to work the fields as diligently as ever. He got acquainted, developed a relationship with, and is now engaged with the local teacher, Miss Cheerilee Willows. Rumor has it that they got acquainted for a business-based reason: being the mathematically minded stallion he was, Macintosh' grammar was absurdly bad, and he needed to learn how to write formal letters."

"Heh, the only word he could prop'ly spell from the start was "illiterate"..." Applejack chuckled.

"In the meantime..." Trixie went on "The youngest sister, Bloomery, or Apple Bloom, as her family called her, became somewhat of a child prodigy, possessing several, quite coincidental talents, and teaching them to her friends, despite the fact that she hasn't gotten her cutie mark yet."

"That's what nags her the most, aside from the teasing, and in the same time, the thing that drives her... Aside from the teasing..." the orange mare pondered out loud.

"And then, here's Applejack." Spike continued, taking the word from Trixie "So far, she hasn't excelled, well, not when compared to her family, but she had shown signs of various prominent abilities, as an athlete, as a leader, as a businesspony. The latter isn't really that new..."

"Comes from the fact that mah family has always participated in the market..."

"But there weren't any sportsponies or politicians in the Apple lineage so far..."

"And in the latter case, we intend to keep it that way!" Applejack declared sternly "Seems like ya know me well."

"Most scholars know of "Pomme Potentielle"." the fiery mare grumbled, catching the farmpony by surprise "Old-fashioned teachers and certain figures of authority speak of the "simple, clever mare of the orchard" in a tone, that, if I were paranoid, would consider to be hinting an acceptance of crimes against equinity as a means to an end."

"I... Don't quite follow..." Applejack mumbled.

"But surely, you understand..." Trixie added sarcastically, having suffered from the same rhetorics for some time by now "I mean, what else can make plants grow more than bonemeal?"

"Bonemeal? What are you...?" she stopped, dead in her tracks "Oh..."

"Clever girl." the blue mare sighed.

"Pomme Potentielle. Get it now..." AJ exhaled, growing pale "Oh my..."

"Well... Anyways..." Spike muttered, after a long, really awkward pause that gave way too much time for the previously mentioned things to sink in "You two were in the middle of something..."

"Oh! Oh. I was... Showing my drawings to Applejack." Deep replied, stepping aside to reveal his work.

The three mares gasped.

"Oh, joy..." the young drake whispered.

The pictures were all made in the same, unique style, unlike any of his previous works. The edges were smudged, blurry, yet harsh, as if they were gashes made with a paintbrush. But all was composed of none other, than colored charcoal. All the cold colors: white, gray, black, and blue, blended together on the paper to form the macabre imagery.

Churches. All the churches from the land, all the decrepit, desolate monasteries and nunneries, the temples long abandoned, in various states of decay, but with one sensation permeating all:

Terror.

It seemed that, either the Ignis Deae had no idea how to build churches in this climate, or that the weather was particularly harsh to tall buildings. The latter was more plausible, as they had seen no buildings, aside from the smith's house, that was taller than two, may three levels. Instead, they rather expanded horizontally.

In every aspect, the churches here - aside from those that were built before the cult had emigrated here - all stuck out like sore thumbs. Most of them were built out of heavy stone bricks, all sparing stuccos or any external decoration, and lacking the onion domes that the Norther Region's churches were famous for. Their design was somewhere between roman and gothic, purposely made imposing, most with a frontal bell tower that stood monolithically above everything in it's vicinity. This imagery was also picked up by the Церковь Террора, or Church of Terror, which, serving both as a museum and as a reminder to all about the activity of the Ignis Deae, had the vague, but still recognizable silhouette of one of their churches - a pretentiously huge, slightly oval, barn-sized main church building, with an actual, obelisk-shaped monolith tower serving as it's entrance.

They had a vague glance at some of them during their train ride, but then, they only seemed like passing shadows. Unlike their brethren in different countries, the churches of Yucrane's valley-plains covered the land like ulcers. Black glass sticking out of the pale skin of an enormous, beautiful creature, no longer suffering from the shards, but with pain still lingering near the flesh.

The central image was the one that captured their attention the earliest.

A familiar building.

"The Church of the Forgotten Martyrs..." Twilight whispered, a shiver running down her spine.

"Stone Fort" Harvest replied "That's what it was called before the Ignis Deae seized it as their own. Grandfather said this used to be a religious community, even after the revolution began."

"How come?" Trixie asked "Didn't the Order terrorize the townsponies?"

"Not here..." the colt replied "As my grandfather put it, it was "an outpost among outposts". The member they chose to be positioned here was... Sort of a pariah to them. A gangly, but apparently hoofsome stallion, more of a theologist scholar than a priest or maddened preacher. He was a lonely sort, only seen during the sunday mass, which he would organize to be very formal and efficient, making them rather... Compact, compared to what ponies where used to before."

"Really? Why would he shorten them so much?" asked Spike, sitting down for what he anticipated to be a long story.

"He used the "remaining time" to explain philosophical trains of thought to his lamb, leaving them with an open ended monologue, and a question hanging. I asked about him around town, and they said he was a cold and distant stallion, always isolating himself in his personage, or wandering about in the chapel, reading aloud books written in odd, foreign languages. His name was "Twisted Spire" - like that, no translation. He told his followers to call him by that name, full name, all the time. He wasn't an arrogant equine, but he had shown... Disdain towards the town, especially to ponies he considered to be... Unintelligent. In fact, his entire life seemed to be built around gaining more knowledge. He was rarely seen on the church gardens, choosing to tend to the more secular aspects of priesthood, such as the cleaning and maintenance of the church itself, during the night. With monthly intervals, he would visit the local tavern to drink, usually choosing a mixture of the strongest grog available, with milk added, drinking it in the same manner as one would drink tea, just sitting close to the center of the counter, staring in front of himself, or scrolling his gaze across the room with an unreadable expression. He would then leave, sharply at midnight, always, and walk straight back to the church. Despite being a tall stallion, and quite the looker back in his day, according to some of the older mares, he was still surprising unnoticeable. An equine of mystery, he still provided the comfort that the presence of a holy pony could bring to a town, which only increased after some time..."

"How so?"

"It was all due to something the ponies here now call the 'Carrion Incident'..." he paused here, noticing his "audience's" flinch "Don't worry, it's not as ghoulish as it sounds, but it was quite a graphic scene..."

"I'm afraid to ask..." Sunset muttered "But... What happened?"

Deep Harvest sighed.

"A couple members of his cult came to town, to collect "their" allotment. Well aware that Twisted Spire was not imposing such requisitions on the town, they decided to collect them from townsponies themselves, starting in the "place of sin", the tavern. The night the chose to raid was the same one that the colt of cloth chose to socialize as well. He arrived somewhat late, for reasons unknown, storming in to find his... Compatriots... Already merry with booze and making an ass out of themselves..."

This time, the group held their flinches, aware that the Northern Region cared not for political correctness.

"With a few stern words, he motioned the talaric bandits outside, into the snowfall.

For a long time, there was silence.

Finally, the guests of the tavern, even those that have been visiting for a time longer than any could remember, and had grown accustomed to "unusual going ons", have decided to go outside. A graphic scene greeted them. Not even in the revolution would they saw such gore displayed with such perverse generosity. The three bandits laid on the ground, in the middle of the street, looking more like fresh corpses, than alive. But they were breathing, even if with a wheeze and coughing up blood with it. They had scars, gashes, bruises and observably broken bones. One of them even seemed to have suffered brain damage, having a swollen eye and his head tilted at an odd angle, constantly rocking back and forth, and being unable to emit anything, but pained gasps and unintelligible moans. Under what only could have been a quarter of an hour, they were stripped naked, had their crests and tails shaved, with the precision of a sailor who had just drunk his liver away under a single night, and also appeared to be cut, burned, choked, and close to hypothermia. They were covered by their own blood, and, judging from the smell, as one elder stallion with a particularly good memory told me, their own faeces and urine as well. Needless to say, the tavern dwellers were shocked down to their core, unable to comprehend how the stallion of cloth, a holy pony, could cause such severe harm to others - clearly, the town was, until then, left unscarred by the machinations of the cult. What also surprised many was the apparent brutal strength, and sadistic imagination of the priest. The pony of cloth kept his clothes clean, however, it was only his disheveled, silver gray crest that differed from his normal stance, along with a look of pure rage upon his face, as he roared into the night:

"FILTHY, INEQUINE MONGRELS! UNTALENTED DABBLERS, PEDDLERS OF FOOLISHNESS AND SELF-CENTERED IDIOCITY, WITH THE AUDACITY TO CALL THEMSELVES THE HARBINGERS OF HER HOLY WRATH! YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN LIVING CARRIONS, MAGGOT-INFESTED CADAVERS THAT DARE TO REMAIN AMONG THE LIVING! THE CHEEK! YOU BARBARIANS HAVE NO RIGHT, AND NO LEGITIMACY TO EXIST IN THE SAME, HARMONIA-CREATED WORLD AS THESE PONYFOLKS DO! AS I DO! But fear not! Not only are you ROTTING from the inside, but now, I'VE MADE YOU LOOK THE SAME FROM THE OUTSIDE!"

As the three bandits scampered into the oncoming blizzard, Twisted Spire kept hollering:

"CARRIONS! FLEA-BITTEN, MAGGOT-HOUSING, BASTARD CARRIONS! THAT'S WHAT ALL ARE! ROBED MUSKETEERS OF LIES AND COWARDICE! CARRIONS!"

For about a month, he remained awfully silent, holding even shorter sunday masses, and not coming to the tavern. This kept everyone on edge, because, as much as he alienated himself from them, the ponies here still loved him, and considered him to be their own, one of them."

He suddenly stopped, reaching out to a pile of softer-looking paper, and pulling out an old color photograph, placed in an worn, cardboard frame. Hoofing it around, he showed that it carried the bust image of a stallion, noticeably slender and of noble origin. He wore what appeared to be a black overcoat with a white shirt, it's collar held up by the priest's collar itself. His fur was a darker gray, while his not exactly short, but neatly combed back crest. His eyes were also gray, an almost metallic shade of it. While he held his head high, his expression was not one of arrogance, but one of deep consideration.

"W-Well, I gotta admit..." Applejack stuttered sheepishly, a blush growing on her cheeks "Fella' was quite the looker..."

"Uh-huh..." thus Sunset.

"Indeed..." thus Trixie.

"Yes..." thus Twilight.

"What happened to him?" asked Spike, after a drawn-out groan.

"He disappeared when the revolution reached this region, he disappeared." came the reply "The cult never used his church as a stronghold, and as soon as he left, it began to... Warp, almost as if he was the only one keeping it safe from corruption. In fact, they abandoned the church right after the night he disappeared, presumably around the time the White Guard roamed trough town, tailed by the Red, or rather, Grey Army, as it was called back then. This town was never really of any value in terms of military strategy, being one a dozen that spread across this valley. Without him, the church just... Succumbed. Many say it was consumed by the fanaticism and visceral hatred of the Ignis Deae, the very fundamentalist ideology that Twisted Spire's crystal clear mind couldn't tolerate. I can't even imagine how looks on the inside, although I've heard tales of pegasi who had to inspect the building, as they were obliged to, and reported that everything inside has just... Blackened, covered in some sort of hair-like moss. The elaborate bell organ, that Twisted Spire put together to fill in for the absence of a real church organ, has also corroded into a stiff, gross-looking mess metal, just ROTTEN inside it's frames and gearwork. Even the grand bell in the church tower had became tarnished, if it hadn't fallen down from up there yet, although, we've probably would've heard that... And so would've had the entire country."

"Any guesses as to where Twisted Spire may be?" Twilight asked "He sounds like an interesting pony."

"Nopony knows. But, unless he was an alicorn in disguise or a light wraith, there's little chance of him still being alive." Harvest replied "Although, I wouldn't be surprised if he still was."

"How come?"

"After the revolution, the Makrovchina inspected his personage, and found countless books regarding equine anatomy, arcane magic, and numerous sketches and design plans for incredible machines, but none of which seemed to have any purpose besides, as they put it, "maintaining it's own equilibrium". Some suggested that his priesthood, and his strained alliance with the cult, who, as I said, positioned him here, served as a cover-up for him to access forbidden books, or a even a dwelling within the dark arts."

"...Any evidence to support this?" Sunset asked.

"After he left, the church literally became his namesake." the colt replied "And also, his books, sketches and research is still in the personage, locked away from the harsh weather."

"Has anyone besides the military seen it?"

"No. Nopony dared to wander there. Like the church itself, the personage is off-limits."

"But there aren't any rules forbidding you."

"No. But in this case, we wouldn't even need one."

"At the end of the day, you still don't know what really is in those documents, but you're willing to believe that what the military has supposedly found is what's in it..."

"Seems so."

The fiery unicorn eyed up the colt one more time.

"You know..." she mused "It's no wonder he looked down on you guys... OK, let's see that statue!"

White Banner

Minx.

Capital of Belostrana. Home of the tsarist royal family. Or, at least, what remained of it.

A curious, if lengthy story, both theirs, and the country's - or rather, countries'...

The beginning of the century prior to the last, the Norther Region rebelled.

Or rather, it rioted.

To be completely fair, it stood up for itself, after years of foreign oppression enforced by a puppet state/military junta, empowered by the Equestrian Monarchy.
No surprise there, though.

The region had a looooong history with bad rulers.

When the last ice age ended, and the solid ice wall that later shrunk into the northern icecaps retreated from the northern region of the Equine mainland, it left a vast, empty continent, barren of wildlife and vegetation, with mountain ranges edging it from the north and the east, fjords and peninsulas from the west, and it's center collapsed in lines where rivers dug through it - the of the disappearing glaciers.

The snow and cold still inhabited the land, dominating it for five months each year. Spring was brief. Life blossomed and bloomed with haste. Summer was scorching, but Spring's efforts yielded fruit. Fall was brief as well, the dying drama of Summer, and the coming of the merciless Winter.

The first tribes arrived a few decades after the first ponies appeared within the lower part of the continent, and grew in size and number, adapting to the harsh weather of the north. Once grown large enough to maintain huge plots of land, the tribes began to fight - unlike in the south, which was ruled by egalitarian societies or matriarchies, most of the tribes of the north were strict patriarchies. Mares, however, were not treated badly, in fact, they enjoyed more freedom and more adoration in certain tribes than the mares in certain egalitarian societies or even matriarchies. This was mainly due to the protective and spiritual nature of the tribes - they didn't saw them as objects, as cattle, bearers of children, but rather, as the earthly representation of the motherly fertility goddesses, beings who without a stallion cannot be called a stallion, or even a pony.

Fillies and colts played together, until they were of age, form where on they had to chose between to positions: stallions usually became hunters, protectors and gatherers, while mares supplied the tribe with nourishment, medicine and healing spells, and a safe home. The choice was there, however: some colts became healing clerics alongside their female companions, and certain mares became renowned hunters. Nopony was outraged by this - they respected their choice, even if these stallions didn't form a family, and if these mares never gave birth to a new generation - it was their decision, and dedication to a task was just as respected as giving it up to take up your role within the tribe.
In northern culture, there was no good or evil. Only power.

Misdeed, of course, existed, and many tribes were quite strict when it came to punishment, especially during the warmongering years. However, the tribes began to mix and trade cultures and methods, due to their uneasy alliances during times when the ponies of the south made their presence known. Eventually, the tribes were forged into one large empire.

In it's early years, the empire suffered dreadfully at the claws of a new, invasive nation: the gryphons - they assaulted them in every way possible, before the ruler of the griffons, the "king", decided that preying on the hapless ponies of the tundras and taigas was not worthy and honorable for his kin. So, he offered a treaty: for the safety and prosperity of the Northern Empire, as he labelled it, they pay them fur, textile, tusks and horns, and ores which they find but not need. In time, the gryphons forgot about their initial position in the treaty, and began to exchange weapons, machines, new material and new methods in hunting, education and medicine, for all the fur and tusks the Northern Empire served to them.

Around the time where the three pony races of the south unified - during an usually modest winter -, the former clan leaders of the tribes made a decision, and elected their own ruler (the last ruler to ever be elected for a VERY long time), the first tsar: Tsar Северный Ветер, or "North Wind". Under his leadership, the Empire successfully became an agrarian superpower within a decade. This further improved it's connections with the Gryphon Empire of Eagleland and both product and cultural trade between the two young countries increased. The life and well being of the northern ponies continued to improve, even after the death of Tsar North Wind - others Tsars and Tsarinas followed his steps, introducing newer and newer systems and newer levels of comfort and progress.

This all changed with the enthronement of Tsar Мертвое Зима - Dead Winter...

He was ruthless megalomaniac and militant fanatic, coming from the cold embrace of the season which's peak he was born on. Bent on modernization, his command-planned economic "reforms" nearly destroyed agriculture in the Northern Empire, while is industrialization thoroughly destroyed the life of thousands... Truth to be told, the Empire was behind many other countries when it came to industrialization, and the lack of mercantilism or any other forms of trade and exchange held it back greatly. Most other countries, including the Equestrian Monarchy, had already developed some primitive form of capitalism, but the "Bastion of the North" still remained firmly feudal.

It had to. Zima enforced it.

But Tsar Dead Winter was anything but stupid or foolish. Even with his megalomania, none could call him arrogant or delusional. As the ruler of a country lagging so far behind, he kept his gaze looking toward the future. He did it so much, in fact, that one may have called him a medium, or rather, a visionary.

Using the latest technology available at the time, he made sure to tell - or rather, to show, considering the illiteracy rate -, that he loved his people, his country, their culture and their freedom, and did everything for them.

And the people loved him.

He was the first to discover and popularize a Cult of Personality, something which marked the fate of his country for a very long time.

In his death, millions grieved him.

He starved, beaten, incarcerated, impaled, burned and destroyed twice as many...

The tsars and tsarinas after Dead Winter didn't proceeded to follow his every step. Literally all of them had some degree or form of personality cult following them in their wake.

Tsar Холодный Болото - "Cold Marsh" - made sure that even the last of the peasants will have the ability to bathe at least five times a week. In return, said peasants were to work on the Cathedrals of Music, Arts, War, and Glory that he ordered to be built and finished under his reign - only the 'Cathedral of Glory' was finished.

Tsar Меч Сталь - "Sword Steel" - led a campaign against organized crime that ended an era of syndicates... And started another one, now under the guidance of the tsarist court. He taxed vehemently until the goal was reached - afterwards, he abolished the taxes of the poorest of his people, the Крепостные, or "serfs".

Tsarina Черное Храм - "Black Shrine" - ensured that even the last, most weakest, youngest, and eldest of her people had three square meals a day to eat. For this, she indoctrinated, incarcerated or executed every large of smallholder of land, and organized, for the first time in equine history, state-owned collective farms. She also revolutionized the currency system, adjusting the value of money not to foreign gold or silver, but to the most valuable mineral of the country itself: Ruby. Thus, the currency known as Рубин, or "Rubin" was born, with a value that outlasted the lifespan of all other currencies, before switching to comparative valuing.
And so on...

Over time, however, it was noted that, barring a few, the tsars and tsarinas became increasingly corrupt, and even the exceptions barely reached the people's expectations...

The one prior to the last, Tsar Ужасный Страх, or "Terrible Fear", as he later became known in world history, was a monster in a pony's skin. Driven by paranoia, fits of rage caused by plausible genetic defects - suspected to be the result of inbreeding -, this stallion ruled the country with an iron hoof, pressing down on everpony around him with the threat of crushing looming over them in every second of their lives. And he lived on to rule the longest.

His successor - Tsar Короткий Судьба, or (quite fittingly, considering the events that later occurred) "Short Fate" - came as a family man, but died a lonely death.

It was never stated (at the time, at least) that it was the Equestrian Monarchy's intervention - especially since it had just recently turned into a monarchy, after the banishment of Nightmare Moon, or, as her defeater knew her: Princess Luna.

Celestia's vision, clouded by grief, failed her, so the underhanded deeds of her ministers got unnoticed. She agreed blindly to let her soldiers intervene when the ponies of the North rose up against their leader, demanding a complete change in government. Foreign agitators boiled their tempers to the bursting point, and in one quick riot, they obliterated the tsar's personal guardsponies, captured their royal family, and deported them them separately into the far corners of their empire, causing an international outrage.

This prompted Celestia into action, now making the fully focused (but still blinded and uninformed) decision to stop the North from further violence - and the result was the annexation of the Northern Region.

It was great setback to democracy in the equine world, as it reared up it's ugliest face: despite the openness and reformist views of Tsar Short Fate, not even his complete agreement to his dethronement and the declaration of a republic saved him and his family from the exile, which served as proof for many other countries to avoid the rule of majority, as the uncouth, and ungrateful crowd will only bite the hoof that gives it food - or removes the leash, in this case.

What followed was roughly 500 years of oppression, misery and agitation, another revolution followed, destroying the puppet state of weak leaders chained to Canterlot, and establishing a shaky, but still firmly supported government...

Meanwhile in Canterlot, retribution followed the revolution - Princess Celestia found out about the ministers and army officials that undermined her trust and goodwill, destroying the lives of many ponies in the Northern Region (by then, known as the Northern Republic, a no-party state which all members of the government were either selected by their predecessors or elected individually by the public). The show-trials (albeit based on hard evidence) shook the ponies of Equestria - never before had they seen their Princess become so indignant, so... Wrathful.

Around a hundred ponies were executed, their wealth and property confiscated and redistributed among the public.

Surprisingly, the new Northern government remained open towards this newfound enemy which it never had a good relationship to begin with - many would say that this is what led to the demise of the Republic and brought forth the Union, but let's not get so ahead in time. One could say that they had a verified reason to do so, what with the whole Great War going on (it lasted 40 years, it came in years and devastated every generation involved, forever changing the concept of war within the minds of... Well, basically everyone)...

During the next 300 or so years, the social, bureaucratic and military elite found newer ways gain extra profit or power within Equestria's newest and most awkward ally.

They were aided by the very same elite from inside the Norther Republic, and although cultural differences were apparent, one thing remained certain:

Both elites knew no morals when it came capitalism.

The unaligned economic system, which influenced the society living with it, turned from a healthy competition of merchants, entrepreneurs producers to a race of life and death between the common workers of factories, workshops, and the peasants of the fields, while their masters enjoyed dinner together in the club.

The masses starved while that selective few enjoyed multiple square meals a day. The workers died because of unreliable machines, and even if they didn't, the awkward positions of their jobs damaged their skeletal frame, and the repetition and monotony of their lives sapped them of any will to fight. Even if they did fight, the police brutally suppressed even the most peaceful of demonstrations. In return, whenever the police demonstrated for better wages, workers often attacked them, and got out of the ensuing mess unpunished.

The environment of the workplace and the homes deteriorated, while the fat cats enjoyed their comfort of solitary living outside the smog-choked, crime-infested cities.

By the end of the 300 year, the protests were organized, the elite was sprawling mess of starry-eyed equinists and hard-line top hats, public misery was at it's peak. The deployment of new machinery lead to rising unemployment in both urban and rural areas. Any agreement made between the labor unions and the ruling class was ultimately broken by the latter, causing an increasing frustration.

Long story short, tempers were nearing their boiling point.

The air was heavy with the smell of another revolution, and it wasn't just the Norther Region...

The losers of the Great War were embittered by their loss, and the treatment they had to endure from the victors only increased their bitterness.

It became more and more clear that the next war wouldn't be fought in the name of heroism.

It will be started in the name of heroism, sure.

But one peek behind the curtain told everything that needed to be known: fear, greed and loathing.

For a nation, the "Most Sacred War of All Wars" was to be fought on these three basic equine fallibilities.

The white movement gained it's popularity right after the Equestrian Intervention. The displacement of the entire tsarist family enraged many loyalist nobles, even those who didn't benefit from the last tsar's social actions. Secret societies were formed, searching high and low for the deported members of the royal family, all of them eventually connecting, uniting, and smoldering into what became known as the "White Guard", as they wore the white dress uniforms of the royal army, usually used during funerals.

During the early years and decades of the Republic, they had to lay low, not wanting to turn the public against them, and over time, their size dwindled, as members assimilated to the new order.

But the ever-stretching War, the social injustices and the general disappointment gave the necessary boost not only to the communalist movement, but to the whites as well.

In the end, it was the social-democrats (split into the hard-line, radical communalists (коммуналистский), the more revolutionary wing, and the more liberal consolidationists (укрепленистский), the orthodox Marksist wing), that seized power. Inter-party competition ended with the communalists gaining full power, but also marked the start of the Civil War, as the Tsarists made their move the moment the communalist rule was announced.

The Northern Republic's soldiers left the front lines of the Great War, only to fight a bloody civil war for another 40 years. In the end, the White Movement was ultimately defeated, but were allowed, along with the anarchists, to live peacefully besides the newly formed Union of Councils, as long as they don't bothered one another. Thus, the along with the Autonomous Territory, Belostrana, the "White State" was formed as well. With the aid of the Union's armies and explorers, the remaining royal family was recovered, and brought to their new home in MInx, the capital of the new country.

The royal family, whilst away from the battles of the Great War and the Civil War, had still suffered, their numbers reduced to barely a dozen, even with the stand-in of foreign relatives. But they managed to regain their strength, and made themselves presentable for what had possibly been the most tense and coldest diplomatic meeting in equine history:

The Meeting of Last Tsar - Tsar Возрожденный Слава, "Renewed Glory" -, and the First Supreme Council, led by the very first Troika - composed of the Head Military Commissar Trotsky, the Head Propaganda Commissar Steel Ink, led by Supreme Commissar Linen.

The Tsar has lost his father to the first rebellion.

The Supreme Commissar lost his brother to the last.

But the War and the Civil War has strained and spent all parties involved, so peace was necessary.

There were rumors of a fourth element besides the Communalists, the anarchists and the whites, who orchestrated the whole meeting, that strived for peace among them, and that outright FORCED the leaders into signing their respective treaties. There were rumors over who this person, this enigma way, and most rumors pointed to a single name. A name that wasn't present during any moment of history, yet ever-present during it's whole course.

The following decades were all about consolidation, rebuilding, and the strengthening of all free countries. In the end, it seemed like that the liberals of the old party were right, after all. This process of peace came to an end with the death of Linen, the growing competition between Trotsky and Steel Ink, and the start of the Second Panequine War.

The war has drained all countries, but the Free Territory recovered the earliest, thanks to it's laissez-faire economy, followed by the massive Union, thanks to it's immense, robust system. Belostrana recovered the last, though it enjoyed the support of other nations, particularly that of Eagleland. It became a semi-constitutional monarchy, similar to it's contemporary Equestria, and, to get on the good side of the Union, introduced a mixed economy. It's case has been steady since, slowly recovering from the many losses it suffered along with it's sister states, but still stubbornly holding up the monarchy.

Visually speaking, it's recovery was only evident in the larger cities, particularly it's capital. However, the countryside had a considerably slower development rate. Having connections with numerous economic powerhouses (Eagleland, Equestria, the U.C.C.R.), and being a considerable economic power itself, in it's own right, the country was steadily growing, but in the same time, so was it's corruption.

The nationalisation of larger enterprises, and heavy regulation of market-oriented businesses, open politics and democratisation of the Union cut ahead of most possibilities of corruption and the formation of oligarchies, but the White State haven't made such measurements.

For the three mares and the dragon, this became evident after the sixth street begard while touring around the capital.

"It's either these guys, or the public workers." Spike mused "What's the deal with them?"

"Belostrana has a market-based economy." Sunset replied "While it does make it progress faster, and provides a greater motivation for the workers, it also means that those who fell out of favor, and become "unmarketable", can end up on the streets."

"They're all free to compete in the free market." Trixie added "But not everypony has the means to even joint the competition."

"Freedom comes at a price, in this case." Twilight put it "The same way equality and progress came at a price in the Union, the price being individual freedom. But things are getting better there, as the state gradually loosens it's grip on the public. Here though, despite it being a mixed economy, the state exerts little control over the market, which has led to the rise of oligarchs and monopolies."

"Great..." the drake groaned "Another country with crooked leaders."

"Not necessarily crooked." Trixie replied "The new tsar was more than willing to meet us, straight of the bat as we arrived."

"He was probably notified in advance." the dragonling retorted "Besides, do Snortherns even CELEBRATE the Winterval?"

"Snow-northerns", Spike, Snow-northerns!" Twilight snapped at him, as quietly as she could "Don't call them "Snortherns". And yes, they do celebrate the Winterval, they ARE the same nation, after all, even if slightly different in culture."

"They also like to emphasize that they're NOT the same nation, though related." Trixie added, correcting the purple unicorn "And, as a matter of fact, they are the ones who follow the old tradition the most rigorously out of the three, with the yucrane ponies being close seconds."

"Really? Huh." Spike paused "Why is that?"

"Maybe because there wasn't an overbearing government to impose a "cultural revolution", that's why!" Sunset snapped at them "Now would you guys hurry up?! We've got royalty to meet, and I want to be done and over with it as soon as it is equinely possible!"

"Hey, what's the rush?" Trixie asked "We still have time! And we all wanted to see their National Theater."

"It's not the place, it's the royalty himself!" the mare fumed "I don't want to waste time on a loafer that drains the money of country's worth of fools monthly, just to stay afloat on a cloud of lies and traditional eccentricities."

Flabbergasted by her outburst, the two followed her to the palace.

The Royal Palace of the Tsar of Belostrana was built some years after the Civil War came to an end, when the spirit of the White Guards was still high and proud in the new country. The castle was built in that very spirit: very traditional, and grand without much hokum. It's bases was in the general shape of a quadrate cross, with tall, slender towers standing on each end, topped with silver onion domes. The center of the building had several, protruding turrets as well, all topped the same way, placed seemingly haphazardly, but in concentric circles, climbing higher and higher, towards the main, grand golden dome that topped the highest, and largest, middle tower, it's bayonet-like flagpole piercing the heavens, the silvery-white banner of the original movement waving in the high winds. The building wasn't significantly tall, well, at least, not compared to the skyscrapers of the city, but it was huge, and it was located in the center of it's own, enormous park, distancing itself from all the other buildings.

Standing in a sea of white (while it wasn't the coldest part of the region, the white country did live up to it's name by having significantly more snowfall than any of it's neighbors), the building, as unimaginatively adorkable as it was, still came across as imposing. To increase the sensation of height, the architects have made the windows smaller and smaller on each level, starting with plated glass, church-style windows at ground level (which was actually OFF the ground, having an elevated floor), and ending in smaller, one metre by one metre windows on the highest level. Interestingly, no windows, not even the largest, colored ones, had arched tops - all of them were rectangles. The elevated ground floor sat on what could best be described as a half-sunken sub-ground floor. Built from thick concrete, it resembled, and actually functioned somewhat like a complex of pillboxes. Back in the day, the threat of a Unionist invasion was still quite vividly present within the minds of the snow-northerns, and the Steel Army's most prominent forces were it's infantry, cavalry, and armored battalions. Thus, most important buildings, such as military and governmental offices, had a "pillbox level" above their basements (and later serving as their basements, when an invasion was no longer considered a threat, and the actual basements were flooded, due to ground-water buildup under the concrete). Some industrial buildings even had gun turrets placed on their corners, or fake smokestacks that were actually guard, or aerial defence towers.

In fact, it was rumored that the many turrets of the palace were actually anti-aircraft towers, capable of revolving around the main tower (in unison on each ascending level), and that their domes would either split apart, camera aperture-style, or just pop open to the side like a lid. The main tower itself was supposed to be housing some sort of super weapon, the nature and design of which changed in each era. When the first rumors began spreading after the Siege of Minx, which ended up as a spectacular aerial combat failure for the Gearmane Army, the citizens and Byelo soldiers suspected that high-velocity, organ-style AA gun complex was hidden under the golden dome. During the rising tension between the Equestrian Monarchy and the Union, they believed it to be housing a huge radar that could not only locate enemy aircrafts or missiles, but could intercept their transmission, and reset their coordinates as well. Later, during the peak of the conflict between the superpowers, it was believed that an emergency "Dead Hoof" missile response system was located within the dome, with the coordinating radar dishes hidden in the four outer towers. As the Cold Conflict began to thaw, the Dome of Doom, as it was called on the street, received a new weapon, or rather, a defense mechanism: a generator that would create a forcefield around the capital, or, at least around the Palace, that was also an EMP emitter as well. Nowadays, it was thought that the secret weapon of the Tsar was either a laser-based anti-missile defence system, or a series of railguns, as some thought that the Dome of Doom may be out of date by now.

Aside from the Great Banner, each of the four, "wing" towers had their respective flags as well.

The South Tower's flag was black, pure black. It had always been black. Nopony really knew, why. Some believed it meant to represent the Autonomous Territory, which was south to Belostrana. Others thought it was a funeral, mourning flag, but for who? Nopony knew the answer.

The Eastern Tower bore the flag of the former Baleian Communal Council, a former member of the Union of Councils. This region has always been known as the favorite of the Royal Family, and they had actually developed a strong bond with the locals. When it was decided that the White Movement and the Royal Family could keep their sovereignty from the Union, and that an area of it shall be granted to them as their own country, the Baleian Council accepted the public's demand, and offered it's territory for the new geopolitical entity. Thus, the White Country was born, and the old flags of the brief Communalist rule were discarded. Similar to the Union's flag, the Baleian banner was also pure blue, with a stripe of silver white on it's bottom, representing the fair land, interrupted by a decorative, traditional Northern embroidery on the left side, used there as a hoist ornament. Above the white stripe, and next to the ornament, was the gray horseshoe and hammer symbol that many councils running industry-heavy regions chose.

This flag was obviously faded and thorn, worn threadbare by the harsh winds and the cold weather, as the ponies of the region newer grew accustomed to the communalist system, and the members of the White Guard (who soon became the new country's political and military elite) outright banned it's usage. Why it remained on the tower, again, no pony knew.

The Western Tower (which also served as the grand entrance to the Palace) carried the official state flag: white as the banner of the movement, with a golden embroidery (quite similar to that of the BCC's flag) splitting it in half vertically, with the Royal Coat of Arms in the center: a silver shield with the illustration of a bear, standing on it's hind legs, attacking (a universal national symbol for the whole Northern Region), with the Tsar's crown atop the shield itself.

The Northern Tower's flag was different from the others. It was widely acknowledged that it was actually a battleflag, but which, or just what army it belonged to - as you've probably guessed it: nopony knew. It was blue, a darker blue than what the Union of councils used, and it featured a large, five-pointed star in it's center. The star had a gray edge all around, and while it itself was black, it had what appeared to be an elaborate, gray framework on it, covering it in an organized pattern. Unlike other battle flags, however, this wasn't square shaped, but instead, retained the classic rectangle shape of flags.

Aside from the South Tower's flag, this war banner was the most enigmatic. Whom it belonged to... I guess you know how it ends.

"It sure is... Bright..." Spike muttered, as they trotted down the hallway.

In fashion of the Palace's exterior, the interior also intended to represent the goals and essence of the Byelos: Loyalty to Honor, Loyalty to Tradition, Loyalty to the Land, and, most importantly, Loyalty to the Royal Family.

From the marble floor tiles to the wallpaper-less walls, to the silvery decor on the ceiling, everything in the palace was pure white. The only exception was the heavy carpet that broadly covered the hallway's middle. This was pure black, and some assumed that this was a sort of symbolism, representing the opinion the royals and the elite had on their southern neighbor. Apart from the occasional chandelier, the magnesium-gas hall lights and the ceiling and door frame decor, the interior could've almost been considered puritan. A serene silence was present within the building, that made those within the shelter of the wide walls feel elated and tranquil.

"Here... The meeting room is just around this corner..." said Twilight, as the team approached a 'T' section of the hallway. Beyond the corner, to the right, the hallway continued towards the dining hall, while towards the left, it ended shorty. A great door, sunk into the wall deeply, as the gradual, stepwisely decreasing layers revealed around it's frame, stood in the center. Ebony wood, with a silver lock and handle. Two guards stood on either side, wielding the White State's trademark дзіду, or "Lance", a multipurpose medium-to-heavy firearm. While primarily serving as military-issue burst-short rifle, it was also equipped with a tri-bladed bayonet, and when turned around, it's stock acted like an anti-personnel missile launcher, containing two missiles. A speciality of the Tsar's Guardponies, they appeared to have their stock and grip made of wood, a light, but robust type, found among the fjords of Waking Félags, on the cliffs facing the North-Western Sea. Often referred to as "fairy" wood or "silk" wood, this of cream-colored timber was rare, so a number of modern Félags dedicated themselves on breeding it. As a noble, but useful tree, the Elven Pine, from which the wood originated from, was treated with respect.

Across the Equine Continent, the armies and architects of numerous countries commissioned them to provide the noble wood. Belostrana was no different, in fact, it was their main customer.

The mares also had the opportunity to observe the uniform of the Tsarist Guard.

Uniformity among members of the military was pretty much a necessity, as the rows or seas of similar-looking ponies were both imposing and eye-catching, and it also served as propaganda and representation of country's might.

The organized militia of the Free Territory, the Makrochina, didn't had any uniform plan, as they mainly employed guerrilla tactics.

The Steel Guard, the frontline partisans of the Union's army, usually wore insulated clothes matching the main color scheme of the area they were deployed in, but their dress uniforms were dark green, with the union's typical plate-shaped peaked caps, pylotkas or bowl-shaped helmets, coming hoof-in-hoof with the classic, ragged-wood bayoneted long carbines. Veterans, and descendants of veterans, or members of the inland militia sometimes used the Civil-war era greenish-brown uniforms with the well-known budenovkas. The stallions and mares themselves usually wore a brown, beige or red whole body fur make-up during military parades or other special occasions, to further increase the idea of unity among the army. Also, earth ponies were the ones most numerously found in the army, and was not unusual that foreign countries used the red, or brown dress uniform-wearing earth pony 'soldats' when representing the Communal Army, the national successor of the Civil War-era Steel Army.

The Equestrian Royal Guard was composed of three groups: the Day Guard, whose main job was the protection of Princess Celestia, along with the castle and the capital, were all magically disguised to appear to be white furred stallions and mares of the same height, with most of them being pegasi, and wearing a golden armor (it wasn't actual gold, though, but something less expensive and more combat-effective: kevlar-coated leather covered in golden-colored titanium plates), that was inspired by the uniforms of the ancient Roamen Empire. Princess Luna's Evening Guard were mostly gray unicorns wearing an armor of similar design, albeit silver-colored. Their job mainly consisted of the protection of the Princess of the Night, but also nightly patrol and active area control. The Night Guard of Princess Opscura, however, had a drastically different function: usually working alongside with the Princess of Darkness herself, their job was both her protection, and her aid in agressive authority response to criminal activities. Working as a non-political secret police, they monitored criminal activity within the entire country. The batpony guard were all dark gray furred with either bat-like, or dragon wings. Most of them had vertically slit pupils, much like their princess, though some of them had the reptilian "string of pear" type of pupil. Their armor-uniforms were of the same design as the Day or Evening Guards, but unlike them, who had their mane cut in a mohawk to resemble the helmet decoration of centurions from the ancient Roamen times, they had reptilian spike fins poking out through their helm. Theirs was fully metallic, composed of a light, but near-indestructible metal of unknown origin, polished opal blue with a "smokey" reflection. They rarely appeared in public, mainly due to their nocturnal nature, it was easy to say that they were the most imposing of all of Equestria's armed forces - well, aside from the armored battallions, of course.

The Tsarist Guard was somewhat different.

Their uniform fur color was a bright, faded blue, while the stallions had to be a darker blue, and the mares' had to be either white, or black. It wasn't until a few years earlier, when mares were finally allowed to join the White Guard. As a part of their agreement with the Union, Belostrana was not allowed to have an army. That included the infantry and armed battalions, and while they were allowed to keep the existing Royal Navy, and a considerable air force, they weren't allowed to build any more vessels unless they retired and salvaged some of the old ones, and the number of aircrafts they could have was also strictly limited. Keeping a militia and a royal guard, however, was not restricted, so, in similar fashion the Equestrian Monarchy at the time, they used the Inland Militia and the Tsarist Guard instead of a separate army.

Members of the guard who actually had to protect the Royal family did wear the dress uniform. It was based on the uniform of the loyalist generals that originally created and led the movement: all white, with a double-breasted overcoat, and the plate-shaped peaked caps that, over the years, became a symbol of Northern authority and military power. wearing a shoulder decoration that evoked the epaulettes of the generals, as opposed to the starred shoulder boards of the Union's armyponies. Also, a vast majority of them were unicorns, as they were considered to be the most battle-ready among the ponies, due to their magical capabilities. Historically, official ranks, even as low a corporal, were only given to unicorns, whilst the earth ponies, generally regarded as peasantry and humble workers, could only become privates. This was mainly due to the fact that the nobility were the ones entrusted with taking positions with high responsibility. This changed over the decades, especially since most noble families have eventually gone extinct, or became entrepreneurs instead. With nobility gone from the picture, the Guard relied on their military schools to train out their new officers, and there, all were welcome. Soon enough, pegasi and earth ponies made their appearance among the army offices, much to the outrage of many veterans and conservative high-command members, but it was the Tsar's order. Pegasi, rare in the Northern Region due to the unnecessarity of weather control teams, and the harsh weather that made building cloud cities impossible, usually appeared as travelling merchants or stuntponies that intended to entertain the public in markets and social events, but were often regarded as vagabonds by the nobility. The Guard, however, made use of the light-built flying equines for reconnaissance, and as couriers.

The two guards on either side of the door were typical unicorn guardstallions. As big as an earth pony stallion, and mainly capable of offensive and defensive magic, aide from usual household spells, they were also well-trained with the usage of their weapons, and new the Palace layout like the back of their hooves. Silent and still, much Celestia's Day Guard on post, they remained stoic and stern. Oddly enough, one of them seemed to wear glasses, which was unusual for frontline military members, especially in active service. Out of the two of them, he appeared more stern than stoic, but still, the fact that he wore glasses made him less threatening for Twilight, who went forward to introduce the group.

"His majesty is waiting for you." he replied quietly, with a slight hint of an accent. His colleague opened the door, and the three mares and the dragon stepped inside.

***

"Your majesty?"

The stallion was showing his back to them. Dressed in a military uniform similar to that of the Guard's, except that his had real decorations, and also holstered a sword, all they could see from him was his golden tail.

"Your majesty? We, the envoys of the Three Princesses and the Equestrian Senate, came to greet you."

"Good to hear."

His voice was familiar. It had an impish undertone.

He turned around.

"Good to see you, girls!"

The three mares and the drake could only stare, mouths agape.

"B-Blueblood?"

But it didn't needed any afterthought. In unison, the four of them rushed the Tsar, group-hugging their old friend.

"Blue!" Trixie cried.

"I can't believe it's you!" Sunset exclaimed "I was worried that we'll have to deal with the arrogance of some royalty again!"

"Are you saying that I'm not royal enough, Sunny?" the stallion asked.

"I can't believe this!" chuckled the young dragonling "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Spike, how's my little drake? You sure grown a lot!"

Twilight winced, but decided not to ruin the mood, and kept smiling.

"But really, what ARE you doing here?" she asked, after he and Spike finished their "man talk".

"Can't you tell, Twily?" he snickered "I'm the Tsar!"

Blueblood, also known by his title, as "Prince Blueblood" was the nephew of the three princesses, cousin of Cadence, Queen of the Crystal Empire, and long-time rival of Shining Armor, Twilight's brother, and the King of the Crystal Empire. A couple of years older than the three mares, Blueblood has long been considered by many as the royal jester. A mischievous little colt, he often got into trouble, much to the amusement of his aunt, and the grievance of the castle staff, visiting nobility, and his cousin. He had matured a bit by the time the three little fillies arrived, and he was overjoyed to learn that he had two new aunts to entertain. Sure, one of them was scary as fudge, and the other one was a complete shut-in, but they were his aunts, never-the-less. In fact, the two of them seemed rather perplexed about the young prince, but, like Celestia, they've grown used to him. He introduced Luna to the world of gaming, and soon enough, the Princess of the Night was hooked, becoming a gamer extraordinaire in a matter of weeks. Princess Opscura was a harder nut to crack. She wasn't amused by Blueblood's antics, viewing the snobbish, delusional world of the nobles with a more visceral disdain that that of Celestia's, and was the most work-oriented by the three sisters; Video Games didn't interest her in the slightest bit, nor did any other activity that Blueblood considered to be 'fun'. Instead - and this came as a surprise for all parties involved - she found enjoyment in training the young colt. Whether it was magic, tracking, military strategy, or even just hiking, she looked... Moderately overjoyed when she'd gotten word that the little Prince was joining as well. Sure, Sunset was under her tutelage, but she took her training much more seriously. After all, it was her, along with the two other unicorns, that freed her from her own delusions and self-built prison. Blueblood was merely there to soak up her motherly instincts (which was... Quite morbid, considering her... History, with motherhood). From the very start, his best friend - and greatest rival - was Shining Armor. Introduced to the Royal Guards' Training Academy the same moment Twilight became Princess Celestia's student, the sullen-serious colt couldn't have been more different from the trickster Prince. They didn't get along well all the time, but, nevertheless, they had their adventures together, which usually ended up with both of them getting scolded. As a colt, the blue-maned stallion was bit sensitive for that, which led to slight grudge between the two by the time the three fillies entered the scene. Whilst Shining enrolled in the academy, Blueblood was left with three, young fillies, and soon enough, an even younger drake. However, he wasn't the silly little cold that got into trouble, anymore, and quickly became the three mares' foster big brother, helping them overcome their sadness over not seeing their parents as often (though, in the case of Sunset, this wasn't as much of an issue), and aiding them through both his antics, and with actual help every now and then as well. Still the same trickster, he and the mares still got into trouble countless times, but always got away as well, and with a laugh (aside from the 'Cake Incident', but they had all agreed to never speak of that, ever again). But as they grew up together, they began to see the mischievous stallion less and less, until, about six months ago, the Princesses informed them that he had left to fulfil his royal duties, as he has proven himself to be mature and willful enough for such tasks (it was only a couple of years ago that he successfully led a squad of the royal guards in a successful counterattack during the changeling invasion, when Shining Armor, the actual squad leader, was knocked out out cold after a severe assault. He came back, briefly, to join them at the wedding of his friend and his cousin, before disappearing again. None of them knew what happened...

"We've been so worried about you!" Twilight yelled, crying happy tears "We've thought we'd never see you again!"

"Ah, you aren't THAT lucky!" he snickered, hugging the young mare back.

"You've became Tsar?!" Trixie blurted out, finally remembering why they were here "How? I mean... Aren't you supposed to be a member of the royal family? The tsarist family?"

"I am!" he replied, bluntly "As it turned out... Remember, I'm the nephew of the Princesses, after all!"

"But... How does that help?" Twilight muttered.

"I think I know what he's talking about..." Sunset mused. The others stared at her, waiting for her to continue. So, she cleared her throat.

"After the intervention of the first revolution, Princess Celestia originally intended to restore the Tsarist monarchy by putting someone trustworthy in Short Fate's place. Back in the day, there was a guilt of pegacorns, winged unicorns who trained themselves to eventually become alicorns. A prominent member of them, though not their leader, was a northern pony by the name of Cеверноa Cияние, known in equestrian history books as..."

"Grand Princess Aurora Borealis!" Spike exclaimed "She couldn't become a tsarina straight of the bat, as she was only a pegacorn, and not of noble origin. In order to fix that, Princess Celestia, whom she had developed a bond with, had discreetly coronated her as Princess, so later, she could take the throne."

"Unfortunately, what Princess Celestia hadn't considered, was the fact that, like most leading positions linked with royalty, the Tsardom's crown has also carried magical capabilities, that it was supposed to pass on to the next heir, when the old tsar or tsarina died. And nobody knew at the time that the exiled former tsar was dying. He presumably died in the exact moment Aurora placed on the crown to finalize her rise into the throne as Tsarina. Due to that, there was... Something akin to a magical power surge within the crown, overcharging her. This resulted in a massive, but slow burnout of her. While it literally granted her the same magical capabilities - and physique - of Princess Celestia, it also came with a smaller explosion. It destroyed the royal crown, the throne, the throne room, and all regalia on her. It didn't harm anypony, but her altered appearance - which, according to some, resembled Nightmare Moon heavily -, and the fact that she destroyed what were considered to be holy objects caused a massive scandal, which could only be quenched by removing her from the picture, and instead, establishing a shaky provisional government, led by incompetent ministers controlled from Canterlot. Disgraced, abandoned by her guilt-mates, Aurora could only turn to her "sister", Princess Celestia, who allowed her to hide within Equestria. Over the next few centuries, she'd grown accustomed to being immortal, and eventually joined the ponies in their everyday lives within the little town she chose as her place of exile. She died some years ago, when the magical charge of both the crown, and her forced alicorn coronation eventually burned out of her system, making her mortal once more. It was rumored she had had a foal, a few years before she died, as she had retained her cool, northern beauty till the very end..."

"That was no rumor." Blueblood sighed "Mother waited until the very end to ask for my aunt's help, not wanting to lose me, the only pony who ever loved her after her fall from grace."

"Who was your father?" Spike asked, not noticing the disapproving, angry glares of the three mares.

"I never knew." the young Tsar replied "I was a bastard child, though the town never treated me as one, and nor did Auntie."

"Huh..." was all the drake could reply.

There was a long pause...

"...Well, this got quite sour quite soon..." the stallion mused, before smiling "So, what can I do for my three little sisters, and one big lil' bro?"

"Actually, we're here to register if Belostrana will be participating in the winter festival..." Trixie explained, smiling as well "Both the Princesses, and the Troika agreed that it wouldn't be right to celebrate without the Country of Snow."

"I wouldn't mind... In fact, I'm curious about this whole gig." Blueblood replied "But, you see, there's just this two things..."

"What?" Sunset muttered, before scowling at the former prince "Bluuebloood... Big brother, did you got yourself into trouble, again?"

"Wha-? No, it's nothing like that!" he replied, hastily. Too hastily "It's just that... The ministries aren't exactly pleased with the concept of joining the festivities alongside the Union, and ESPECIALLY the Free Territory."

All three mares rolled their eyes, as the young Tsar went on.

"The Union has beaten them, fair and square, but they still consider the Free Territory to be a complete disgrace... Don't worry, I'll convince them."

"And... The other thing?" Trixie asked, worried about the answer. If Blueblood was up to his usual antics, he could easily jeopardize the whole festival.

"Weeell... It's just that... How to put it..." he had to scratch his head "After the Royal Wedding, the ponies here got... Quite... Envious of the Crystal Empires... Eh... "Full set" of royalty."

The three mares and the baby dragon just stared at him.

Slowly, it dawned on them.

"They... Want you... To marry?" Sunset muttered, wide eyed.

"The writings on the wall..." the stallion sighed "The ponies want a tsarina."

Another long pause.

"Well... This is awkward..." Spike muttered.

"This isn't right!" Twilight exclaimed "They can't force you into it!"

"Oh, they're not forcing me!" he replied "They're just... Nudging me. I have to keep a got rep here. While they're still loyal to the Tsardom, the figure of the Tsar seems to have lost it's lustrum to them. And I don't want to fail this role."

His voice suddenly turned serious.

"This is the first time ponies have invested their trust within me, Celestia had invested her trust in me. I cannot fail them."

"We understand... But..." the azure unicorn shook her head "...Are there even any candidates?"

"Well, actually..."

All three mares were suddenly very interested in whole "marriage-thing".

"Whoisit?" Trixie asked, pressing her cheeks together.

Blueblood seemed to be in thought.

"...Well, during the wedding, I met this l'uvly lil' mare, in incognito, of course. We talked for some time, and I became really engrossed with her. So much, in fact, that I was almost late for the wedding... And I was the best stallion of Shining!"

"So THAT'S why you were late!" Sunset smirked "Shiny was livid!"

"Not surprised." Blueblood grinned "Anyways, we traded addresses, and we've been pen pals since then. We've grown very close to each other, I think. I think she loves me."

"But do you love her?" Trixie asked. 'This is very serious', her face told him.

"...With all my heart." sighed the ex-prince. The mares let out a collective "d'aaaaww", while the drake just smirked.

"Who is she, by the way?"

"Ah... She's a unicorn, a student, but she looks more noble than any feathered-wig-wearing tubbo I've ever seen. Regal, even." he paused for a moment "Even her name's wondrous: Rarity Belle..."

He was surprised to hear the collective groan from the three mares...

It's cold...

The Equestrian Federal Triarchy, the planet's second semi-constitutional state and only de facto hierarchy that's actually ruled by deities, is vast.

Unarguably, it's largest area (even bigger slightly, than all the other regions), is the Northern Region.

A vast, plain landscape with large, open planes of tall grass, small tufts of forest and the occasional mound, several North-South oriented mountain ridges on it's east side, and two, East-West oriented mountain ranges at it's northern borders.

Two because they've been broken into a larger and a smaller section by an inner, tear-shaped mountain range on the western side, which hold the plateau that most Equestrians know as the "Frozen North" - the only place that is truly nothing more, but empty fields of ice, crowned by the peaks of the mountains that surround it, and home to the Chrystal Empire.

An icy river spouts from these mountains, dividing the plains, growing larger and larger, it's estuary tearing the mountains asunder, leaving a large area covered in shallow, icy water, and reefs large enough to consider the river mouth a delta.

But that's not the point...

The region, albeit part of the Equestrian Mainland, isn't part of the Equestrian Triachy. Well, not fully.

Instead, the region is governed by a political entity known as the U.C.C.R., the Union of Communalist Council Republics, or simply, the Union of Councils ("Союз Советский Коммуналистических Республик" or "С.С.К.Р." (or "Союз Cоветов") in Northern language, also known as the "North-Equestrian Council Republic" in Eagleland).

Much like it's feudal-sounding counterpart (which is actually a meritocracy, by the way), the state lacks any sort of political parties. The similarity promptly ends there.

The Union of Councils is a self-declared "proletarian state", or communalist state... For the majority of it's existence, this statement could be considered a lie, but in recent decades, it advanced towards this title greatly.

The term "republic", however, is actually fitting, as the citizens have the right to vote, and their vote actually matters... This was due to the system: consequent, hierarchical councils.

Every larger town had one - and there were no small towns, that's for sure. The weather and the great distances made every settlement with less than a thousand dwellers that was not larger than 100 square kilometers (and not connected by rail or airway) a communal suicide.

The local councils then elected the members of the district councils, who then elected the regional councils, or, if the district had larger city in to declare itself the district's - now called "oblast" - capital, then the votes would've influenced the election of the oblast's council.

The only place were the this impersonal democracy didn't spread was the Supreme Council, held, with an annually changing location, in one of the largest cities of the Union: the official capital Mosscow, the well-known battle frontier and part-time propaganda city Stalliongrad, the "intellectual capital" Linengrad, the "cultural capital" Neighgorod, the "industrial capital" Zhelezograd, the "science capital" Komkolzgrad, the "resource capital" Prokoptitgrad, the "agricultural capital" Niva, the "superfrontier" Romansburg, and Smallensk.

Just... Smallensk.

Currently, and for the next 10 years, Stalliongrad houses the Supreme Council, the War Consensus (mostly dealing with budget placements and new technological advancements these days), and all the commissariats - Education, Politics, General Economy, Security, Law & Order, etc...

The new agrarian conjuncture was one of the more discussed topics, but in comparison of the main event...

For that event...

...Was the coming of the Royal Sisters, one of whom, Princess Celestia, was the one who (eventually) granted the region it's authority, and enabled it to prosper, through blood, sweat and tears...

Speaking of which...

Said regal ponies where preparing to visit the Northern Region for the Pan-Equestrian Winterval Festival to it's current location...

But, just to make things sure, they sent forth their apprentices.

And on a personal note:

Celly's absolutely terrified.

Сталлионград

Stalliongrad was a grand city in it's own right. Rebuilt twice, first after the Revolution, then, after it's near complete destruction during the Second Pan-Equine War, it is one of the most famous cities in all of Equestria. Plain and utilitarian by design for the most part, it still possessed many architectural wonders.

The sad part was, that most of these "wonders" were requested, ordered, imagined, and sometimes, even designed by the (in)famous supreme leaders of the Union - the older residential areas were dominated by bright red-topped "Steel-Inkas" or tight and tidy, yet horseshoebox-like "Hrustshhevkas", gray, prefabricated, pressed ferro-concrete block housing, whilst many of the public buildings were of the most raffish constructivism and postconstructivist, neoclassicism, or neoreneighsance design, with considerable inspiration gained from both Art Deco and Futurism - the grand and gaudy mixed with simple and Brutalist...
Instead of being eclectic (in that aesthetically pleasing sense of the word) the buildings in many places were clashing. Still, the city gave out a feeling of tolerable, perhaps, even enjoyable dissonance - it reflected it's history, the broken and fixed pavements have been soaked in bot blood and petals.

But the statues, Sweet Harmonia, the statues!

Seemingly left in complete disarray, placed randomly around town, the many, commonly themed sculptures displayed futurist, realist and symbolist inspirations. "Societal Realism" it was called.

....The world shuddered in awe and silent insanity upon hearing those exact words.

"I really like the style of these buildings..." Trixie commented, glancing around from the station platform. The terminal was on the edge of the city, but close to the Local State Headquarters. No sooner than they had stepped out of the train, they were approached by two, soldier-like stallions.

"Мадам." one spoke with well-played Prench accent, before switching to...

"Yoor чarиot eez vaiting."

The three mares flinched. Spike had to take a deep breath to hold back his laughter.

"И vill take yoo to the Празда." the other one said "Мой кomrade, Ясной Речи, vill carry yoor luggage. Кom' along, pleeze."

They followed the two stallions along the platform, and as they reached the stairs, Twilight leaned to Trixie, giggling.

"Did you heard it?"

"Unfortunately." Trixie muttered "I think my grammar school teacher just had a heart attack. And she's already dead!"

"No, not that..." Twilight said, rolling her eyes, deciding not to call the shameless butchering of pronunciation by it's name "I meant, his name..."

"What do you mean?" Spike asked, leaning closer himself.

"His name means "Clear Speech" in Northern tongue." Twilight giggled.

"Figures." the sound of Sunset groaning in front of them made the three jump.

They soon boarded the simple metal carriage, while "Clear Speech" diligently loaded their portmanteaus into the other one. Once he was finished, the two stallions started instantaneously.

While the streets were wide, the tall buildings on the sides and the amount of pedestrians and smaller carriages made them feel crowded. Most buildings here had a... "Damp" shade, various browns along with whites, their monotony only broken by a few marble white and deep red houses, then some blue ones. Three-headed street lamps fenced the road. Most estates were very puritan, only a small terrace or an arcade at ground level. Small shops and stands popped out from these, first few and far between, then gradually growing more common as the city center came into view. The kiosks and bodegas were replaced by shops, and streets leading to specified markets and even one or two market halls - all simply marked on their glass frontages with numbers. The street grew even wider, and the traffic increased.

The mares noted that most carriages and wagons had metallic wheels, sometimes coated in thick, black rubber that left intriguing marks on the layer of snow that never seemed to disappear. The street lights were adorned with traffic signs - unreadable for the mares and the dragon (barring Trixie, who spoke Northern, along with 13 languages besides Equestrian fluently - natural talent within her family, a necessity of all magicians that perform in front of all audiences). Every now and then, they heard the rattle or growl of some machine, coming from the smaller streets - a construction underway, perhaps just a causal proof of presence of the very few motor vehicles - that any respectable city had these days - were, as a matter of act, there.

Twilight took note of the utilitarian clothing of the Stalliongradians: all of their clothes were thick, compact, and insulated perfectly. There was a little variation in colors or styles - long coats, civilian gymnasterkas, furry papakhas and ushankas, mares going around in sarafans coated with large capes, and packponies with stuffed telnyashkas. Everypony was wearing valenkis, and for the first time, the three unicorns saw ponies wearing pants - en masse!

"This is... Pretty much a collage of all the Northern stereotypes I know about..." Trixie muttered, bemused, waving back at the traffic officer, standing on his "trunk" in the middle of the crossroad, directing the carriages in his white uniform and peaked cap. He smiled brightly at them, and took a brief moment to wave with his signal baton.

"That's because Stalliongrad has always been a propaganda city." Sunset replied, looking straight ahead "The most bloodiest and desperate battle of the Second Pan-Equine War was fought here. Almost every dictator, whether Head Commissar, Supreme Secretary or Premier, had a suite in the city. It was the Capital of the Idea."

"Now it acts as the capital once more..." Twilight mused "Girls, have you seen anypony that wasn't smiling?"

"Huh?" the others asked.

"Well, not that everypony's all cheery and happy-go-lucky, but I can't see a single frown, scowl or glum look anywhere."

"...Your point?" Spike wasn't impressed.

"How can they be so pleased, or even happy?" Twilight asked "Many visitors said..."

"Many visitors said, in the past, that average pony of the Union spends 12 hours a day in misery." the fiery unicorn hissed, turning to the others "First of, that's an overstatement if I ever saw one, and second, that was the past! Now, they have some decent leaders, that..."

"Yoo're abaut to meet." the stallion said, as they came to an abrupt stop...

After gathering themselves from the carriage floor, they took their first glance at the "Prazda" or, "Governmental Building"...

"Just as I expected..." Sunset murmured.

The building's exterior was coated was composed of a deep, reddish-brown granite, and it's design was like a Jacuzzi with Gothic and Art Deco relaxing in it (with the former discreetly adding a wee bit extra "omph" to the bubbles).

To everyone's surprise... The result wasn't gaudy. It looked pretty decent, actually, with the roof and the ornaments reaching for the sky, and with little amounts of decor, aside from the huge, stainless steel "Winged Horseshoe with Horn Reticle" on it's face, the five-pointed star standing proudly at the tip of the horn.

"This is it." Twilight sighed "The Stalliongrad Local Government Headquarters."

"This is where we'll drop off." Trixie added, turning to the two stallions "Thank you for your services. Oh, we'll be residing in Hotel Aurora. Не могли бы вы взять наш багаж там, Ясной Речи?"

"Конечно!" 'Clear Speech' replied, towing away the portmanteaus.

The mares then turned to the other stallion. On the way, he revealed that his name was "Энергичный Помощник", or "Eager Aid". He slowly walked away from the carriage, and kept staring back at the three mares, his eyes darting from one pair to the other.

"Да?" he asked, awkwardly "Iz dere anything else yoo need help vith?"

"No..." Twilight replied kindly "We just want to thank you again for carrying us here."

"Oh?" 'Eager Aid' mused "I-Iz dat all?"

"Mmm-hmmm!" the lavender unicorn replied cheerily.

"Я... И do not need to be thanked..."

"What?" the mares asked.

"It was мой task to help you get here." the stallion replied "A simple task. I don't need a reward for it."

Before any of the unicorns could answer, Eager Aid continued with a sharper tone:

"И do not require yoor charity!" he snapped "The Союз is NOT plagued by poverty and misery, in contrast of the Equestrian Popular Belief!"

"Calm down!" Sunset snapped back, throwing herself into a fighting position without even noticing "It was only a gesture! A common, friendly gesture!"

So irritated and engrossed she was with the argument, she didn't even notice the frantically waving purple mare beside her.

"And speaking of popular belief..." Trixie began, much to Twilight's chagrin "YOU certainly don't seem to think beyond, what I assume is, "Common Stalliongradian Social Propaganda"!" she lashed out, getting into a fighting stance as well "You immediately assumed that if we're being nice for just ONE SECOND, in the slightest bit, we're doing it out of pity! Because we obviously look down upon you, since we come from Equestria! Because ALL Equestrians are snobbish, bourgeois oppressors, am I right?!"

By now, Eager Aid was also waving anxiously,

"Стоп! Кalm down!" he shout-whispered. He shot a glance at the street, and, seeing that no-one stopped to ogle at them, he gave a relieved sigh, and turned back to the two agitated Equestrians.

"И apologize for мой presumptions." he muttered in a hushed tone "But yoor... Gesture caught меня off-guard. Az a carriage-пони, И mostly deal with simple tasks, as мой талант is to help others. It requires little to no effort from me. So please, don't thank me for it." he allowed himself to smile "It was nothing. Мой pleasure, in fakt."

Before they could reply, the stallion departed.

Sunset exhaled slowly, whilst Trixie tended to her vigorously throbbing temples.

Twilight was cross.

"Well, there you have it!" she yelled "I hope you're happy, now that you've proven that the Princesses' representatives are bunch of passive-aggressive jerks!"

Spike sighed, looking at the large building towering above them.

"Let's head inside."

Комколзград экспериментальная установка

"Hey, look at this! The first issue of the "Red News"!" exclaimed an excited Spike "The very first of the Hungerian Council Republic's papers! What a find!"

Twilight smiled wryly, following her assistant among the display stands. Since the Journal and Magazine Museum was open, they jumped on the occasion to visit. Well, the drake jumped on it. Much like his adoptive "smallest big sister", Spike also had a strange passion for collecting written work. Unlike the purple unicorn, however, he preferred to go after issues more lighter than the hardcover books they dealt with on a daily basis. Old newspapers were more fitting for his fancy, and the periodic exhibitions of the small Museum offered him a taste of what a collector's paradise would look like. Within the halls of the small, glassed building (bearing a striking resemblance to an oversized gazebo), among the esthetically displayed magazines, comics, broadsheets and such, the little dragon seemed to be on cracked cockatrine-dust and reaching the state of Neighvana in the same time.

Yet, it wasn't his reaction to the discovery (or his obsession) that made the mare wince slightly (nor was it an eerie moment of self-reflection when facing the striking similarities between Spike's, and her own behavior during wee moments of nerdgasm).

No, it was the paper in question, that she felt to be cringeworthy.

The "Red News", the bihebdomadal printed work of the Hungerian Party of Communalists, was a remnant of the past, like many other issues that could be found here. Insignificant in content when compared to others (with each issue being about four pages long, aside from the special editions), it still served as reminded of an... Uncomfortable period of time.

Sunset once explained it to her: following the end of the First Panequine War, the Astro-Hungerian Monarchy, one of the two main members of the Centrum Powers, has collapsed, crumbling into several, newly formed nation states. What followed was a roughly two-year-long period of chaos (the political kind), during which numerous governments came and went in the now small country of Hungery. Teetering from kingdom to republic, then back again, the emergence of the Hungerian Council Republic was like having a piece of red-hot iron jabbed into the hide of an animal, writhing on the ground - both painful, and oddly reinvigorating. Emerging from the failing democracy of the recently formed Ponies' Republic, led by the Revolutionary Command Council, it lasted for 133 months, roughly eleven years, before it's inevitable collapse. It was a surprise that it lasted as long as it did - the quite similar Bamareian Council Republic, formed and fallen during it's existence, was another, even more short-lived, attempt at repeating the revolution that occurred in the Northern Republic. Ultimately, both attempts were thwarted, and for good reasons. As a region of the Germane Empire, now reformed as the "Waymare Republic", the Bamareian Council Republic was dismantled by the anti-communalist Freiregs, it's leaders killed, it's headquarters in Munchen burned to the ground, as Barmareia was molded back into the former empire, as a region and federal subject it once was. While the inner opposition brought forth the end of the Munchen Räterepublik, it's Hungerian "sister" was brought down by both civil unrest (legitimate, as it was caused by the instituted 'red terror' that the increasingly paranoid Command Council ordered to go underway) and foreign pressure, namely, the invasion of the Roamenian Army. With the collapse of the Council Republic, and the "Kommün" fleeing the country, Hungery suffered not only from a collapsed economy and a rampaging invading army, but also, from a crisis of values, something which has been present since the collapse of the old, joint empire, and the failure of the democratic Ponies' Republic and the councilist Council Republic only increased this sensation. The ponies were desperate, and wanted none of the "weak-willed" liberal policies that have been around for a couple of decades. They wanted a strong-hooved leadership, something which the Kommün has provided, but in the wrong way. This sensation of loss, this desperation and disorientation, coming hoof-in-hoof with the loss a vast amount of territories, given to new, malignant surrounding countries, born from the defeat of the Empire, and thorn away from the land by victorious, and supposedly "civilized" foreign powers that weren't even there, only fouled the Hungerians' relationship with it's new neighbors. It left them weak and vulnerable to the other extreme of the political spectrum, which, much like in the case of Germaneigh, proved to lead into their tragic disposition in the second "Great War".

The issue, the very first issue of the "Red News" that Spike held in his claws, already contained the subversive stance of the H.P.C., with the first page reading, in bold, straight letters, the demand for "CLASS WAR!", calling out for volunteers to join the struggle for a 'dictatorship of the proletariat'.

It was... Uncomfortable, looking back at history, and seeing how ideas can be twisted out for one's gain, or even corrupted by the same, age-old concept, that the End justifies the Means. It was a learning experience, in hindsight, but one where the lesson learned was almost immediately forgotten.

"Huh... Strange..."

Quiet as it was, Trixie's uttering derailed Twilight's train of thoughts - considering the azure unicorn's usual level of volume, the fact alone, that she was only uttering, was shocking enough.

"What do you mean?"

All four of them were at the "Hungery" display, gazing at the poster collection that the blue pony was levitating.

The page it was opened up displayed the one created for the declaration of the Council Republic, featuring an odd, completely hairless, bipedal red creature, or rather, figure, considering it's rough design. It seemed to marginalize the positive, muscular features of it, whilst gingerly covering up where it's genitals should've been by making the drawing particularly "scribbled" at that. Wielding one hunk of a hammer, the completely red figure turned them into living question marks. His mere existence did so to many others throughout history, probably including it's creator as well.

"Who... WHAT is this thing?" Sunset blurted out.

"Never seen anyone like it." Trixie mumbled, memorizing the image "Though... He... It... Seems strangely familiar."

"Yeah... Same here..."

"Mmm-hmmm..."

"Well, whoever this... Thing is, he seems to have caused quite a reaction back in his day..." Sunset mused "This figure is still publicly "frowned upon" in Hungery."

"Because it's weird?"

"No, Spike, because it's considered to be 'subversive'.

"Oooooh. Why is that? Because he's naked?"

"How do you...? No, not because he's naked, because he's red!"

"Ah... That... Sounds... Abit... Rac--"

"DON'T! Even get started...!"

After that conclusion, they exited the museum, stepping into the sunlit morning.

The difference was stark, compared to the rest of the land. Here, it felt like it was already spring, with the grass green and fresh with mildew, and flowers blooming. Clouds, sparse and playful, passed before the bright sun. The vast, rectangular meadow of park was criss-crossed by maze-like pathways, going around small clumps of trees, tiny lakes and statues, with ornate gazebos placed on key locations, forming the constellation that was the area's namesake: Orion.

Orion Square was among the most famous sights of Komkolzgrad. The city, originally an enormous mining and factory complex, was abandoned half a good thirty years ago (for reasons unknown), and it's rediscovery brought life back between the walls and streets of the old research center. For this city of factories, foundries and refineries was also the Union's head research center, in the fields of cosmonautics, aerodynamics, and ordnance, most prominent among a myriad of research projects carried out here. Surrounded by the tall mountains that once contained the mines and fed the massive combinat with ores, coal, and gems, now mostly barren, and forlorn as ever, life in Komkolzgrad could be described by having the ever-present, yet, not overbearing feeling of being watched, but never judged, by stoic sentinels.

The park itself was surrounded by tall buildings, the old living quarters of the workers, now converted into more comfortable, residential apartments... Though, most of them were still inhabited by local workponies, who, nevertheless, welcomed the improvements. The brown brick buildings, with walls painted yellow and roofs composed of tin tiles, salient, fully built-in balconies that protruded like the bastions of old, Brutish castles - and were mostly used as winter gardens to grow the ingredients of woodka.

These "steelinkas", as they were known, were simple and solid, self-contained, like fortresses - however, their interior design left much to be desired. Renovations were an [integral part of the city (no pun intended). Bordering the square like a wall, they overlooked this bustling garden of life. A spell, casted centuries ago, turned one, huge block's worth of land into a meadow of eternal peace. No howling wind, no freezing blizzard, and not even the smog-smothered atmosphere of the complex that built around it. Simply known as "Убежище", or "Haven" by the locals, it came as a surprise to many foreign visitors that no commercial venues - besides the small museum and a concert and exhibition hall built on it's grounds - were set up around such an exquisite phenomenon.

"Where to now?" the drake asked "We've visited the local leaders."

"Which was, oddly enough, the Board of Directors of Komkolzgrad's Gogorin University." Twilight mused "Not that I'm complaining, but..."

The rectors assured them that the 'univer-city' would be attending the "Winterval", as they called it, revealing their finest achievements in science, aimed for the betterment of all life on the planet.

"Vee've gotten DIS klose into unkovering de sekret behind de spell of Орион!" one of them exclaimed excitedly, gesticulating with his hooves to show the exact proximity they came to solving the riddle of magic.

"We've still got quite a few exhibitions to go around." Trixie replied, spotting a public map near by.

Trotting up to it - and subsequently figuring out that it was one of the older city maps which still contained many archaic letters and numeral characters from before the grammar reform - they began to decipher it the best their expertise allowed it. However, even with Trixie's fluency, Sunset's knowledge of the language, Twilight's knowledge about grammar, and Spike's general knowledge about the Serialic alphabet, they were struggling with it. It also didn't help that the map had become a victim of the elements, and was, for the most part, completely smudged.

After about ten minutes, the purple unicorn gave an exasperated sigh:

"AAAARGH! This is taking forever!"

"Then, don't bother with it." said a voice.

To be fair, they weren't as startled by the sudden presence of another as they were startled by a number of things since the beginning of their days-long vacation of a journey. Still, they were startled by the intruding speech.

Calming down, they waited. And waited. And waited. Hoping for an answer, an advice to follow the cynical sentence. When it didn't, Spike was the one to investigate the board holding the map. Walking around, only to see that behind the board stood... Nopony.

The others joined him in his surprised stare.

"Huh... Strange..." he mused.

"No it isn't." said the voice.

Thoroughly confused, they came out from behind the map.

A stallion stood a few trots away from them, down the walkway, beside an ornate lamp. Jet black - fur, crest, tail, every inch - with black eyes, and pupils so deep that they outmatched the intensity of his irises. Speaking of intensity, the snakey, pronounced eyebrows he had only enhanced the scowl he had on his face. His gait was normal, as was his overall posture, though a thin, but fine line could be seen around the base of his neck, where the fur overlapped the coat of his torso, hinting that he regularly lowered his neck. His mane was licked back, as if held in place by grease, though a few loose strands and locks lurched forward. An earth pony, but the height of a pegasus stallion, he was on the short side, but far from being stocky. Not particularly muscular, either, but by no means feeble - he definitely didn't had that aura around him.

As the silence grew weary on them, and the lack of communication increasingly jarring, they approached the stallion - telling scowls be damned.

As they drew closer, they could make out a few other, smaller details.

The stallion's eyes were surrounded by dark circles, a sign of deprivation, most likely of sleep, though, his eyes weren't baggy at all. The closer they got, the more his expression slipped from an irritated scowl to a condescending leer. His small size meant that he was just taller than Sunset, who was the tallest among them. He was, at least, half a head taller than Twilight (second youngest after Spike, though his age and aging was an entirely different case), and a head's worth taller than Trixie (second oldest behind Sunset and second shortest behind Spike). He also seemed to be a year older than Sunset, making him the oldest among them. Light dully reflects from his mane and tail, though it doesn't looks greased, or naturally greasy. Everdeep eyes stare at them from behind half lowered lids, not eyeing them up, but merely gazing in their general direction.

Finally, he breaks the silence, as abruptly as he did the first time:

"Take a picture, it'll last longer!" he snapped, turning away from them, revealing his all-crimson cutie mark.

Baffled by his crassness, it took time for the three mares and dragon to respond, and, as per usual, Sunset was the first to react sensibly.

"H-Hey... You... Wait!"

...Kinda.

The stallion didn't stop, instead, he continued to trot down the pathway, paying no heed to the yells of the three mares... Up until they caught up with him.

"I said, "wait"!" Sunset exclaimed.

"And I didn't give a toss." he replied sharply, increasing his pace. Slightly shocked, they stopped for a moment, exchanging bewildered glances, before catching up to him once more. He gave an exasperated sight, haring the rapid clopping of hooves behind him.

"Hey! Just who do you think you are?!" Spike yelled.

"Someone you shouldn't bother with, scaly!" the stallion snapped back.

Once again, they were taken aback. "Scaly" was kind of a racial slur among ponies, kind of archaic, but an insult, none-the-less. Thankfully, Spike was to young to know of the term, so he just shrugged it off as name-calling.

"Hey! Just who do you think you are?!" Trixie exclaimed, getting over the initial shock, and rushing after the stallion. The others, now rather reluctantly, followed pursuit. The stallion seemed to comply to the blue mare's wishes, anyway. With an exasperated sigh, he slowed his pace, allowing them to catch up to him. Trixie quickly caught up, but before she could even begin to chew him out, he snapped at her:

"Would you be as kind as to tell me just WHAT bloody business you lot have with me?"

For the first time in her life, the azure mare was left completely speechless. This colt's attitude was almost grizzly. The others remained observant. Sunset was quick to notice that he appeared a tad more muscular up close. His gait gave her the impression of being stooped, a common physical demeanor among those working in the heavy industrial sector. His fur smelled of iron and coal. The fiery unicorn wasn't surprised, when a gentle nudge revealed that his fur lost it's lustrum due to a layer of soot covering it.

What caught Twilight's eye was his cutie mark. Initially, she thought it was the classic Hammer'n'Sickle, with the Red Star above it - a recurring mark, it's variations found among the scholars of Marksist studies, and on certain old-school council members as well. But upon closer inspection, it was clear that it wasn't the same she had seen many times since her arrival into the Northern Region. The hammer was actually throwing or battle axe, complete with a small "counterweight" blade on the back, and a spike on the top. The sickle was actually a Muletov cocktail, with the bottle serving as the "handle", and the rag and flame arching in a crescent to form the "blade" of the sickle. The red star above it was the classic, "chubby" star, and only served as backdrop to a black capital 'A', encircled, that stood in it's center, or more like cut into it, using the negative space created by his normal, pitch black fur. Oddly enough, the cutie mark appeared to be worn and chipped - not as if it was fake, but naturally.

"You tell us off...!" Trixie began, but was quickly interrupted.

"I did not tell you off, I merely suggested that you don't waste your time trying to read the hieroglyphs of an outdated public map." the stallion growled.

"...And then, you just leave us there!" the mare added, without skipping a beat.

"Naturally. I considered my part in aiding you complete, so I decided to leave. That is, until I realised that you kept ogling at me, quite rudely."

"...No, we weren't!" Sunset snapped.

"Weren't you?" he asked back, narrowing his eyes. To the others' shock, this made the unicorn retreat.

"Now." he grumbled "If you ladies don't mind... I'll be on my way."

"Wait! Don't go yet..." Twilight called out.

"Why not? I've got things to do." the black pony replied.

"Where are you going?" she asked "Is it work related?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"What's it to you?"

"Well..." she muttered "If it isn't work-related... Could you help us?"

"...With what?"

"Well... We don't exactly know what sights are here to be seen, so..."

"You need a tour guide."

"Yes."

He thought for a moment.

"Sorry. It's both a personal matter... AND work-related."

"Couldn't we... Tag along, still?"

He closed his eyes, and pondered for a long time. Finally, with a deep sigh, he turned.

"Come."

Following him through the workers' city, the mares were lead through... Simply streets, alleyways, over-, and underpasses. They saw a few sights, such as the unnamed square which served as the terminal for city's busses - all articulated, for some reason -, colloquially known as "Lamps Square" ('Лампа Площади'), due to the numerous streets light suspended above the area via an elaborate, checkered pattern of wires. Another one was the 'Серебряная Стрела' or "Silver Arrow", a rather futuristic-looking radio and television transmitter, one of the tallest free-standing broadcasting towers in the world. Inspired by the TV tower in the once separate, eastern part of Burlyn, in close proximity to the former "Palast der Republik", now an exhibition center and museum, still bearing the coat of arms of the now defunct, assimilated country of (North-)East Gearmaneigh. On 'Lamp Square', they got onto, oddly enough, a trolley bus, one of the few that was in service. Originally designed here, in Komkolzgrad, it wasn't until the complex was rediscovered and expanded into a city that they were introduced to the very place that saw them being designed and built. Still, only a few streets and three districts had trolleys instead of busses, for only that three had the right circumstances to support such service on it's roads. Getting of at a noticeably older part of town, they found themselves, sitting at a tram station.

Trams only functioned in one district of the complex, arguably the largest one by both the average height of buildings, and area.

Добыча Сайта. The mining district.

The most notorious part of Komkolzgrad. Also, the innermost section, far further from any rail links leading out of town than any other district was.

It was at that exact moment of realization that prompted Trixie into bursting out in a shout-whisper:

"Twilight, just what the hay were you thinking?!" she hissed.

"Yeah, we don't even know this guy!" Spike added.

"He seems like a solid person." Twilight retorted, as quiet and firm as she could "Besides, we know how to defend ourselves, right?"

"Not JUST defend." Sunset murmured, audible for anyone to hear. The others looked up.

The stallion, who introduced himself as Gronk ("Gronk? What kind of name is that?" "My name. If you're oh-so-willing to adopt me at this age, for example, I'll be inclined to change, of course."), was at the ticket booth.

"Solid person..." Trixie huffed "Yeah. Has the cutie mark of a punk, sounds like he came from the north of Eagleland, and has the manners and mood of a superannuated skinhead."

"Don't be so prejudgemental!" Twilight snapped.

"Prejudgemental?! Twilight, we've talked to him! We've seen how he behaves!"

"We haven't known him for that long of a time! AND it's not right to judge somepony based on their cutie mark!"

"Or lack thereof." Sunset mused.

"If you lot have finished discussing what tactical use I may serve to you, I suggest that you hop onboard. The tram's here." Gronk muttered, stepping into the small chatting circle.The three mares shrunk slightly, feeling slightly ashamed for talking about him behind his back.

The trolleybus rattled into the station, it's quartered doors folding in. As they boarded the bus, it became apparent that Gronk has paid for all of their tickets, while he himself had an annual pass.

The ride was rather uneventful. They passed through old, wide, cobblestone streets and small squares that bare more resemblance to road junctions than leisure areas. It wasn't until the tram entered even narrower streets, with two floor houses standing from wall to wall on either side of the pavement, that they actively began to observe their surroundings.

Finally, the tram stopped at what appeared to be a terminal. In reality, it was a street made inaccessible for carts, carriages and trucks, with a cobblestone pavement, with two rail lines buried into it. The overhead wires secured directly by the walls of nearby buildings. The sidewalk was raised, going around the terminal buffers, with traffic barriers keeping any darediscordish driver from going down the tramline's street.

Getting over the odd terminus, the mares and the drake followed the dark stallion beyond the barrier, entering what can best be described as a square of a campus, surrounded by old, two-or-three story buildings. An asphalt road passed trough it's middle, but that little divider took away nothing from the place's gray integrity. Concrete slabs covered the ground, leaving only tiny islands of vegetation, where they have been torn up in a Tetris-y pattern, allowing the grass, some shrubbery, and even a few, spindly trees to grow. Aside from the road (which lead to incredibly narrow streets on either side, which, despite barely having two lanes and half-a-meter sidewalks on each side, still had old, wooden telephone poles holding the wires and street lamps, making it impossible for pedestrians to NOT use the road for traverse), and Terminus street (yes, that's what it was called), there were only a couple of gateway houses that led to the square (and a wooden palisade in between the main building on the other side, and a burned out house next to it, but more of that later).

The other side of the square was dominated by a large, factory-like building, with large windows, a ground-level entrance that resembled that of a modern hospital's (complete with societal-realistic concrete work and glass doors), and complete with the saw-tooth like roof, and the smoking, tall chimneys in the background.

But it wasn't a factory. The Serialic words were quick to state that.

"Комколзград Технической Академии" read Spike "Komkolzgrad Technical Academy. Not Academy of Science, not Academy of Technology. "Technical Academy"."

"Seems... Rather..." Sunset began...

"Simplistic? Straightforward?" Gronk asked.

"Along those lines..." came the reply.

The inside was as expected: the different halls were used to locate different brand of classes, with hanging corridors and upper offices serving as upper classrooms, and teachers and prefects using special permits to utilise the old overhead cranes within each hall for ease of traverse between the hanging corridors, travelling in their cabins, though the ones in the larger main halls have been converted into travelling platforms, capable of carrying entire classes across the open air. Of course, many had to be updated and regularly maintained to use them, and they were out of service during school breaks, for the sake of maintenance, not to mention receiving annual safety overhauls if necessary. Checkered tiles covered the ground level halls, cheap linoleum, or nothing, covered the corridors. Despite being a large, open space, the building was well-heated: they fixed up some old furnaces, placed them in the small buildings at the base of the smokestacks (where the industrial filters usually went), did a bit of repiping, and bam! Heating and hot water solved!

Though, to be fair, the workshops made out of old garages and a railway roundhouse were still cold as a witch's tit.

"So, you're a student?" Twilight asked, excitedly. The others just smirked, and rolled their eyes. They've known that twinkle in the lavender unicorn's for some years by now.

"Yeah. End term." came the gruff reply.

"...Odd name for your final year..." came the less-than-chaffy reply.

"Not if you're studying in this dump." Gronk hissed "Anyways. Follow me."

"Were are we going?" asked Spike.

"To the dormitories. We'll meet up with my... Associates... And then..."

"Then...?" the mares asked, in rather worried manner.

"You'll see."

The dormitory in question (Dorm III/A) was once an old tenement house, built in Eastern Europonian style, complete with the internal "ribbon balcony" or "round corridors", which were, as the name implied, long balconies covering the inside walls, forming corridors on each level, providing access to the individual apartments. in the middle was usually a concrete-covered courtyard, with usually nothing more, than an iron carpet-dusting stand. Sometimes the tenants placed their plants into the courtyard as well. Certain tenements also had a balcony-corridor on the first floor as well, which were encased with bars against thieves or robbers, or have been extended in width, and turned into greenhouses. Some tenements also had a elevators as well (one shaft to go with two staircases). But everything about them, courtyards, railings, elevators, and even tenants, were old. They were like the predecessors of the prefab houses: once a dominant, low-price feature of the countries within the Councilist Sphere, soon replaced by newer designs.

Dorm III/A was an upgraded version - the ribbon balconies on each level had been rebuilt with more beams supporting them, and splitting them up into "porches" for each flat, via the usage of vertical beams, and had two, easy-access elevator shafts. These old houses usually had a greater interior height (five to six meters), so they split the levels in half, and built additional corridors, extending from the half-level landings within the staircases. With this, of course, came the update and general overhaul of the heating and ventilation systems, electric installations and piping. This economization, however, didn't saved them from the fact that the dormitory was crowded.

Comfortable for all students there, but still crowded.

It was coed, and it wasn't in the same time - the two staircases and elevator shafts separated the mares' and the colts' section.

The area around the dorms were unremarkable. There were five packs of them - groups of four - scattered in a loose, almost haphazardly, checkered pattern. They weren't connected by any pathway or road, and vegetation was sparse around them, growing wild, apparently. It was rumored that the once small mining community resided in these old homes, that were once, indeed, located on streets that have long been erased from every map. And indeed, the few trees and shrubbery or tall grass that grew here did take up unusual, yet familiar patterns as well as the buildings. Behind them stood the increasing incline, leading up the rocky hills this place was so famous for.

Stopping short before the dark, arched entrance of the dorm, Gronk turned to the mares.

"I'll discuss the change in plans with my comrades. Feel free to come inside, but I suggest you stay away from the stallion's fraction of the dorm."

"Why?" Spike asked.

"Cause it'll blow up, you silly boy!" Gronk replied, entering the cavernous entryway.

And so, the three mares and the young dragon ascended the staircase soon after, and, arriving at the top, where the world of mares and the world of stallions were split, they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited...

And ordered a pizza.

"No, I said, TOP floor! Dorm III/A. THREE-AYE! Yes. Yes, we'd like extra cheese on it. It's not the "Royal We", I'm with friends! OK. Thanks."

And waited...

...for the pizza.

"Thanks, and... Hey! I SAID NO BEET SLICES!"

And ate the pizza.

And waited...

Finally...

"Well... We've reached an agreement."

They turned their heads towards the source of the voice. Gronk walked in, from the colts' side, with a few "friends" of his (though, HE certainly wouldn't call them such) trailing behind him.

"We'll do it this afternoon." he said, with a smirk.

"Do what?" Twilight asked.

"Just a little something we've been planning since we've came here..."