Cardinal

Twilight’s Castle, Equestrian-Occupied Ponyville.

Princess Twilight grumbled as she awoke, blinking rapidly. The distant booming of gunfire filled her ears, along with the cries, groans, and screams of dying soldiers from the room next to her. She rose from her sleeping bag, ruffling her wings.

Twilight was larger than most unicorns in height, around the height of Princess Luna. Her body was riddled with burnt scar tissue, void of fur. She was hornless, and her left wing was a prosthetic. Originally, she was skinny and without muscle. Now, she could go one-on-one with Bulk Bicep and win. Her body was encased in a dirty brown cloak, torn at the edges and riddled with bullet holes from the high-caliber rounds from hostile rifle-ponies. Underneath that, was a thin steel cuirass, and thick aluminum foreleg-guards. A coal scuttle-shaped helmet sat on her hornless head. She did a short exercise to get herself prepared for the day, stretching out her muscles and waking up fully. Twilight’s room, filled with propaganda posters and books, was dim, the beautiful pinks and purples that lit it long gone, replaced by a dull, lifeless gray. Bookshelves, filled with tattered and downright ruined books lined the walls, with the windows boarded up. One had an opening, with one of the new Mosin-Neighgant rifles that were being issued to the Royal Guard lying on the table beside it, along with a box of the 7.62x54mm rounds it fired. She snatched the rifle and its ammunition case, tossing the ammo into her saddlebags, the rifle being slung across her back. Twilight gave her room a single sweep, then stepped out of her room, and into the blown-out and burnt corridors of her castle.

Most of the roof in the wide, open corridors was destroyed or just gone, replaced by wooden planks used as walkways by infantry-ponies of the Royal Guard. Their armour had been drastically changed, from a full suit of gold, to a steel or silver cuirass, a bowl-shaped helmet, one of the new gas masks that were still being tested if they were lucky, and a raincoat or drab army uniform. Few of the Castle’s rooms were intact, most being filled with too much debris, or were blocked off. Across from her room was the medical bay, where soldiers and refugees from nearby villages were being treated. Directly next to it, was the Farrier containing all of their guns and ammunition. Infantry-ponies swamped the area, their dirtied bodies all cramped within the tight room, waiting to receive their requisitioned weapons that would never arrive. Wooden military crates, weapon cases, water barrels, all covered in tarps, were scattered about, narrowing the hallway down a bit in certain areas.

Twilight trotted past them, looking up at the dull-coloured skies. Rain would be coming soon. Long ago had the Pegasi given up on controlling the weather. It had gotten out of hand, and at this point, there probably wasn’t going back. All of the able bodies that would be tending to the weather were now either in a mass grave or fighting alongside the Equestrian Army, formed as the war escalated. Twilight pushed her way through crowds of scared civilians and fresh-out-of-the-academy privates, and out the main doors.

Her front lawn no longer was a lawn. It was a six meter trench, covered in tarps and netting. The Command Center was established in the muddy battlefield. To her left, was a staircase made of concrete and wood. Twilight spun and trotted down the stairs, her hooves making contact with the earth with a splat. She trudged over to one of the senior officers, who was reading a report.

“Sir.” She greeted, prompting a small gasp from the Pegasus Lieutenant Colonel. He spun around, and calmed at the sight of the towering Alicorn.

“Oh. Princess. It’s only you. Erm, you surprised me. I was reading reports from the front lines.” The Lt. Col. Explained. Twilight raised a brow.

“Oh? And?” The Pegasus’ expression fell.

“We... We lost the train-station. Our guns can’t punch through the armour on those bucking tanks, and we end up just pouring all our ammo into one tank, eventually taking that down if we’re lucky, only to find the rest of the Battalion right behind them. Doesn’t help that the Gryphons are all shook from the Emperor’s assassination.” The officer reported. Indeed, a week prior, the King—or the Emperor—had been assassinated by an unknown party. The Gryphon soldiers had been acting strangely ever since.

“Anything else to report?” Twilight asked, steeling herself. The officer shook his head.

“I’ll get back to you with that, ma’am.” Twilight nodded, gave him a salute, then trotted into one of the tunnels to the left. The constant boom of artillery overhead was muffled, and replaced by the crackling of fire, dull thumping from the tank treads rolling over their territory, and the screams of infantry-ponies as they met gruesome ends. Twilight picked up her pace, trudging through the six-inch thick mud, her uniform and fur getting coated in Celestia knew what. Blood? Mud? Maybe shit? Who knew anymore.

Twilight eventually found herself in an open room, lit by lanterns. Infantry-ponies, medical personnel and even a few POWs were stationed around the room. A few wounded on stretchers in the corner. Twilight doubted they would live. Crates full of ammunition, damaged or broken weapons, equipment, and survival items were scattered around the room. The little underground bunker was reinforced with metal paneling on the ‘walls’ and ‘ceilings.’ Twilight passed through into the front-line. The trenches—if they could even be called that—were maybe half a meter to a meter tall, reinforced with sandbags, wood panels, corrugated metal sheeting, Tartarus, even corpses. Twilight rushed forward, and ducked down, sliding into place beside a dead medical officer, her rifle leaving its sling, entering her hooves. She crawled along the trench. She passed under a few wooden panels used as a bridge that almost touched her back. A few troopers sat a few meters forward. Twilight edged forward, almost there—

SWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH! KAPLOOM!

“GET DOWN!” Somepony screamed. Fire rained from the sky from the Gryphons’ new early model ‘aeroplanes’ began dropping napalm bombs into the trenches, and onto her once beautiful castle. The trenches lit up like Harth’s Warming trees. Dying screams left the throats of the ponies trapped in those trenches. Twilight blocked out the noise and hugged the floor. Ringing filled her ears. Tank shells were exploding all around. Ponies were being turned into mist. Twilight crawled through the trench, stopping every so often to avoid being caught as Gryphons, Zebras, Tartarus, even a few Diamond Dogs began to trudge across the landscape. Their uniforms varied, although most were similar to the Equestrian Military uniform, albeit with a different insignia and helmet design. Also they were Zebras. And Gryphons. And Diamond Dogs. Not the point.

Twilight eventually found herself resting, a few hundred meters away from salvation; The Everfree Forest. She looked around. No enemies in sight. Twilight got to her hooves and bee-lined for the forest. She heard shouts of recognition, followed by the cracking of bolt-action rifles and the prototype semi-autos used by the Gryphons. Twilight ducked and weaved, her armour the only thing keeping her on four hooves.

Twilight had to scramble through abandoned positions, once secure, now abandoned. She heard a fleshy explosion followed by a gunshot, and found herself stumbling as one of her hooves stopped responding to command. Twilight ignored it, and continued forward. A round pinged off her helmet, and she fell down, face-first into a trench. She groaned, and flipped onto her back. Twilight found herself staring down the barrels of dozens of Zebras and Diamond Dogs.

“Well, well, well. Look at what we have here, boys.” That voice. Twilight let out a snarl as the face of the War-General Nigel Stripes appeared, a smirk adorned on his scarred muzzle. He wore an officer’s uniform and a suit of light armour.

“Go to Tartarus, bastard.” Twilight spat out, trying to crawl away. Four rounds to each hoof prevented that. She cried out, writhing in agony.

“I believe you’re going to be meeting me there, Princess. Tell Celestia I said hello when you get there.” Twilight felt everything going numb as Nigel disappeared, instead was the feeling of dirt being piled around and on her.

So... This is how I die. Buried alive and crippled. Twilight closed her eyes and accepted her fate. She didn’t notice the muted thumps that rang out as she fell from consciousness. Not that she cared. Death was close. She felt it...

Trottingham, One Year Prior.

Twilight remembered the cold, October morning that led to her near-death, and the beginning of the first real war in Equestrian history. The cold was like knives against her furred skin. A light sheet of snow covered all of the gray, stone buildings surrounding them. They were in Trottingham, Twilight didn’t quite remember why, though. Some pro-crown rally, probably. Lots of folks were holding anti-crown and pro-crown rallies, and it seemed to make the crowd pleased whenever the princess(es) showed up to these events. Whether it be Twilight, Luna, occasionally Cadence, the ponies seemed a little less scared and worried. What Twilight did remember was why there were rallies. Lots of “leaked” information about the Zebrican conflict that was growing outside of Equestria. Fear tactics by the Zebras, mostly caused the panic and rallies. Ponies didn’t want to stand behind a pacifist leader when people who did things like the Zebras did. Such as using child soldiers. Rigging foals with bombs and sending them into enemy positions. The ways of torture they used on POWs... It was horrid. Nopony wanted a leader who would do nothing as this happened. Twilight was going to try to assure the ponies of Trottingham that the princesses would do everything in their power to keep Equestria safe.

Spike stood beside her. A recent growth spurt had him standing barely head taller than her, with shiny purple scales and the same green spines. A pair of wings eventually sprouted from his back as well. His muzzle was more defined, and he looked older generally. It made Twilight’s heart ache a little to see him stand tall beside her, like a knight almost. Just a few weeks ago he was her little number-one assistant. Now, he was a drake. According to the doctors who had done checkups and such on him, he wouldn’t get any bigger. He was maybe five-hoof-seven? Maybe eight. Pretty tall, considering the height of most ponies was three or four feet. Her assistant was adorned in a pink vest that Pinkie had made for him, and a beanie with a fuzzy ball on top of it.

Twilight herself was wearing a leather cloak, along with some bland winter clothing she had picked up at a shop in Trottingham. She was gathered in front of the civilians Trottingham Central. Swing music played in the background somewhere. Nearby pubs were open, ponies idly listening as Twilight spoke to them. She did her best to make it out like the crown was ready to take the fight to the Zebras. That they had weapons of the likes that the Zebras had never seen. Mostly it was empty, and most of the civilians could see through it. That didn’t stop them from listening to the Princess of Friendship’s speech. Maybe they found it sad that the princess of friendship, a beacon of peace, was stroking Celestia’s ego by giving them false hope in an insubordinate, inefficient military. A few figures shuffled among the thicker crowds, discerned from the crowd by thick leather cloaks over larger bodies. Twilight ignored them, for better or worse, and continued her speech. Boring, endless, hollow speaking to a crowd who honestly couldn’t care less, but had a civic duty of sorts to listen the princess drone on.

Twilight didn’t even notice the first few as they rang out, and only stood in shock as the crowd began dispersing, screaming for their lives. Spike laid on the ground in front of her, bleeding from a wound in the chest. He had taken the bullet for her. Twilight was at his side in a moment as a small contingent of Royal Guards-ponies began appearing out of the shadows and out of pubs, rushing at the striped assassins, now fleeing the scene. They discharged their muskets and flintlocks at the Zebricans, only to have fire returned. Their gold armour did them no good, simply acting as a heavy paperweight as the Armour-Piercing rounds from their .45 ACP pistols ripped right through. Twilight heard a board creak behind her, and spun around, to face a tall, cloaked Zebrican soldier.

“Nigel sends his regards.” And with that, he fired once. Twilight ducked, only to find an agonizing pain run through the base of her horn. A scream left her lips, and she just about fainted when she saw the upper portion of her horn fall down in front of her, cracked. The hollow-point round had done its job, and ripped right through. The Zebrican assassin was ready to fire another round, only to find the Royal Guard aiming their muskets at him from behind. He spun, took the two offenders down, and rushed off-scene.

Twilight crumpled beside Spike, consciousness leaving her as she hit the floor.

-==-

Twilight gasped and sat upright, shaking her head. She calmed herself a bit. Just a dream... Twilight thought to herself. She took a look around. The room she was in was more of a cave, dimly lit by a fire in the middle of the room, with something boiling in a strange pot above it. She tried to get up, only to wince in pain. Her hooves were wrapped in bandaging, with the fore-left hoof only a stub from the shoulder down. Twilight’s training kicked in and she prevented herself from panicking by doing some breathing exercises. The memory of what happened struck her, and the panicky feeling was replaced with rage. She had let their leader get away without even so much of a peep as they buried her... alive.

How was she breathing? Was this what Tartarus was like? Probably not. Her stomach growled, and her mouth was dry. Twilight glanced around, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer setting. She was lying on a cot or stretcher of sorts from what she could tell. A short collapsible metal frame, with some canvas or something of that nature holding her. A light, blood-stained blanket covered her form, which was devoid its armour. Instead, were rolls upon rolls-worth of gauze. After a quick glance, she found all her things piled up at the hoof of the bed. Twilight eventually found the strength to pull herself up, fighting through the pain in her legs. She stumbled over to the edge of the bed, and went through an arduous process to get into her armour and cloak. The mare found herself exhausted and out of breath, and stumbled over to the fire, scooting over one of the heavy metal boxes for standing on. She sniffed the air. It smelled like meat and tomatoes. She looked into the pot, and found a rather delicious looking soup brewing. Then she saw meat chunks. Although disgusted, her hunger wasn’t dispelled. Twilight pushed the crate back into place and stumbled back to her cot, slumping down on top of it. She heard the sound of loud, metal boot-steps and quickly reached for her knife, placing it underneath her. What she saw coming into the cave entrance gave her a frighten.

This thing was huge, maybe seven-hoof-something, larger than the Princesses, with a bipedal form, coated in a bulky metal frame over a black suit. The metal was a mish-mash of grays, whites and blacks, colour-wise. The helmet looked like that of an olden time warrior tribe, minus the plume of feathers. It had weapons that looked like they were from a science fiction book. All metal, too. Maybe it was a robot? Twilight tensed as it got close and knelt in front of her.

“How’re you feeling?” Its voice was male in nature, filled with authority. Twilight just stared, her face paling.

“I...” She struggled for words. The robot pulled a canteen from its waist and offered it to Twi. She snatched it from his hands and fumbled with the cap, before greedily sucking down its contents. She didn’t realize how thirsty she was before. She finished the canteen, and sheepishly hoofed it back to the robot, who clipped it to his hip.

“I-I’m feeling fine.” Twilight eventually spat out, staring up at the T-Shaped eye on the robot.

“You a soldier?” The question surprised Twilight a bit. Really, any question would. She’s talking to a strange, possibly sentient new race of creatures. Or robots.

“L-Lieutenant Colonel T-Twilight Sparkle, 5th Infantry Regiment, Ponyville Royal Guard.” The robot gave her a nod, then pressed a bunch of buttons—Letters, maybe?—on the glowing picture on his wrist that seemed to flicker and change constantly.

“Alright, Lieutenant. I’m Gunnery Sergeant Ambrose. Who were the soldiers who shot you?” This next question was an easy one.

“Zebrican militants. Their leader walked away before I could put a round between his bucking eyes...” She growled. The Gunny nodded, and pressed some more buttons on his wrist.

“Why did they shoot you?” Gunnery Sergeant Ambrose asked. Twilight found anger flooding her system.

“What, have you been living under a rock? Their leader is a bucking maniac who uses mere foals for fear tactics... The one op we ran... We encountered a foal carriage. There was a dead foal inside, and not only that, but it was rigged with a proximity mine... It-It killed most of my soldiers within moments.” Twilight felt herself growing saddened, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She missed those hard mother-lovers that she could call her squadmates... her friends. It hurt to think about how they died... In utter agony. Torn open by rusty shards of carriage and shrapnel from the mine. It... Twilight tensed as she felt the metal Non-Com’s fingers brush across her cheeks, wiping the tears.

“Just rest. You’re safe now.” He turned to leave, but Twilight was quick to go back to her roots.

“Wait! B-Before you go... What—what are you?” The sergeant shrugged.

“I’m a lot of things. To answer your question, I’m a human. Homo-Sapient race from a planet called Earth, or Terra to some. I’m sure you have lots to ask, and you’ll get a chance to ask, but for now, you must rest. You’re injured. It’s surprising you’re even moving...” He muttered that last sentence, and left, leaving Twilight to her devices. She simply dropped her gear and slumped down on the cot. For now, she’d cooperate. There was no telling what these things could do. Tartarus, maybe she could learn something from them...