Castle of Friendship, Ponyville,
Twilight sighed as she broke the seal on the letter. She’d stopped trying to keep count of the mail a few hours ago. She read the first few lines with a cursory glance and couldn’t quite keep her expression from souring at the words. It wasn’t the poor grammar or harsh invective that elicited the reaction (although that certainly didn’t help matters), but rather the content. Her eyes narrowed as she fumed at the letter. Another hate letter! she snarled mentally. How is it that I’m reading yet another hate letter! I can’t even keep track of how many that is today! How is it possible that I can’t get ponies to care about the history of magical artifacts, but I release one book and suddenly everypony and their dog has time to write me a five page paper detailing every flaw and misstep of my friends and I, as if we weren’t already painfully aware of how flawed we—
She realized that the letter was crumpling in her magical grasp. With a wince she smoothed out the damage and set the paper down before she could harm it further. Just because they’re uncivil doesn’t mean that I should disrespect their stationary, she thought with a sigh. Still, came the sour mental retort, no one would have to know if I just burned all the hate mail in an ‘accidental fire’ that came due to a magical mishap, which I seem to have a lot of if all the letters are anything to go by… she chopped off the train of thought with a sharp shake of her head. “No, Twilight,” she said aloud, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “What kind of example would you be setting as the Princess of Friendship if you just ran from criticism?” She summoned a sheet of scratch paper, inkwell, and quill. “Everypony deserves to be treated with respect, and I ought to take the time to craft a reply that tries to convey a sense of what the true lessons of friendship are.” She dipped the quill in the inkwell and levitated it to the blank page, poised to take down her thoughts….
…as soon as I have some. Twilight groaned and thumped her head against the table. “Why is this so hard?” Silence answered her. Which is probably a good sign, since nopony is here.
The three weeks since the release of the Friendship Journal to the general public had been … trying on everypony involved. On some more than on others. A vivid image of Fluttershy snarling like a feral dog at a particularly invasive journalist who had taken the open window of her cottage as an invitation to accost her came to mind. As such, Twilight had decided to organize a short getaway to Appaloosa, since Applejack had elicited a promise from Braeburn and the other Apples there that any nosy outsiders would be encouraged not to bother them. Forcibly if necessary. The other Element Bearers, Starlight, and Spike had met her at the castle in the wee hours of the morning to leave, but fortune had picked that moment to play a cruel joke and delivered a literal cart’s worth of mail. Rather than leave the paperwork over the weekend, Twilight had sent the others on ahead with the promise of catching up as soon as she could.
That had been six hours ago. Twilight glanced at the clock and grumbled. “At this rate I won’t be joining them until tomorrow.” Much of the work she didn’t begrudge. As a princess she had many royal duties, and the administrative, political, and logistical work to be done bothered her little. Nor did she mind the ponies who wrote in with genuine friendship problems to resolve. Unfortunately, these only accounted for a fraction of the letters. Most of them were commentaries on the book (and, more to the point, the lives of Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends), and she had yet to open one today that hadn’t been vitriolic in the extreme. It was almost as though a tremendous backlog of every negative letter had built up at the post office and picked that particular day to arrive.
With a sigh she forced herself back to her work, reasoning that it wouldn’t get done by her just sitting there, and that the sooner she was done the sooner she could catch the next train to Appaloosa. That fact kept her on task, but it didn’t make reading this particular besmirching of her friends’ characters (in this case Applejack and Rarity) any easier. Her face twisted into a near snarl at one particularly angering passage. “These ponies should count themselves lucky I’m not a princess in the style of Old Unicornia or else there’d be a lot more ponies in the dungeons,” she muttered darkly.
Twilight blinked in surprise at the uncharacteristic venom of the thought. She pushed herself away from the table with a snort and began walking to the kitchen. “I must need a break if I’m reminiscing about the harsh punishments of a more warlike period in our history.” She gave a chuckle as she thought of another alicorn princess’s ravings on dealing with a particularly hostile envoy from Duchy of Old Griffonnica.
“To obliquely threaten to remove protection from Equestrian caravans this way? And in Our Royal Presence no less?! We are of a mind to throw this lout into the deepest dungeon in Equestria!”
“Ah, Princess Luna,” Twilight chuckled, the memory of the incident bringing a genuine smile to her face as she took the scenic route to the kitchen. “If I keep this up I’ll start sounding like you.” Even with a few years to adjust to modern Equestrian society, there were still times when Luna’s long absence showed, in particular when she felt that her subjects were being threatened. It wasn’t surprising, really. She hailed from a time when the young Equestria had been challenged in war by rival kingdoms more than once. Modern Equestria had not needed to go to war on its own behalf in centuries, thanks to its powerful army and the undisputed power of its ruler, but for Luna the more openly dangerous world was a recent memory, and one not readily forgotten.
Not that we should, thought Twilight. After all, we maintain the EUP Guard for a very good reason, and we’re fortunate to have so seldom needed to use them. But it must be strange for Luna coming from a time when the individual cities and regions all kept their own warriors who could be called upon by the Crown to defend the Kingdom, and frequently were since—
A heavy knock sounded down the halls, magically amplified to be heard even if she was on the wrong side of the castle from the main doors. Twilight stopped in her tracks and felt her shoulders sag. She really didn’t want to see anypony right now. Maybe it was just my imagination. I am rather on edge right now and—
Another loud knock sounded. She sighed and hung her neck, turning for the main entrance. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Her sense of duty kept her moving at a steady pace, but she couldn’t pretend to be excited at the prospect of greeting somepony. If the last few days had been any indication, it was probably about the book. Now be charitable, Twilight. Some ponies have come to complement the book and say they learned something. Her lip curled. Though plenty more simply came to gripe, because apparently it’s worth the trip just to tell me how much better they could have handled it if they—
She quickened her pace but could not outrun the thoughts. I swear, if Ms. High Lumen or one of her friends has come by to complain that we need to ‘share the Elements of Harmony with the people,’ whatever the hoof that means, I can’t be held responsible for what I say.
Reaching the front door, she paused long enough to take a deep breath like her sister-in-law had taught her and opened the door with a welcoming smile, mentally preparing for yet another a verbal assault from a beanie-wearing twenty-something mare with authority issues.
It was not who she expected.
Standing at attention at her front door was a stallion; a stallion quite unlike any she had seen before. He was slightly taller than average, with a white coat and a dark brown mane with a military cut that appeared to be greying prematurely. He had clear blue eyes and a neatly trimmed duster mustache framing a face that had deeply ingrained laugh lines. These features were noticed only in passing, however, as they paled in comparison to what really caught her eye.
The stallion wore the black and red dress uniform of a non-commissioned officer in the EUP Royal Guard; it bore the chevrons of a Color Sergeant, a dozen campaign ribbons, several commendations for injuries sustained and for courage under fire, and the Equestrian Star of Valor, the highest honor in the Equestrian military. Twilight had only met a pony who bore the Star four times in her life. Two had been veteran guards stationed at the castle, one a general from the eastern garrison, and one had been her uncle. But none of those soldiers had made quite the impression that this one did, for they had all been hale of body.
His back right leg was gone below the knee, replaced with a metal prosthetic that attached to the rest of his body amidst a mass of scar tissue larger than her hoofprint. His front left leg fared little better. True, it was still flesh and blood, but the metal struts and pins fused to the flesh made it clear that it was not capable of supporting his weight without aid. These were not the only marks on his body. Scars crisscrossed the entirety of his visible coat, on his flanks, limbs, neck, and face. Twilight could only assume that his uniform concealed even more. The cutie mark on his left flank was a stone tower, not surprising given his profession. The mark on his right flank had once been identical, but now had four claw marks marring its surface.
Blinking at her appearance, the stallion raised his right hoof in salute and spoke in the precise cadence of a native of Trottingham. “Color Sergeant Hightower, 51st Royal Infantry (retired) reporting, Your Highness.”
Twilight tried not to stare. She really did. She had been raised in a family with a proud military lineage. She had been born in a fortified town and grown up in a castle. She’d seen scars before, for even in peacetime conflict was inevitable. So she tried not to stare. She really did.
Celestia, stop staring Twilight! she screamed internally as she stood frozen, her jaw hanging open.
Mercifully, the stallion proceeded with his greeting independent of her shock. His damaged front left leg quivered as he held the salute for the requisite five seconds before bowing down, bringing his right hoof over his heart. “It is an honor to be in your presence, Your Highness.”
Twilight’s brain struggled to catch up with reality. Her visitor was so wholly unexpected, so divorced from anything that she could have planned for that she genuinely didn’t know how to react.
The quiver in his leg brought him back to reality. Oh he’s in pain! He’s in pain! By the Maker say something! “Oh, gosh, please stand up, sir, you shouldn’t be kneeling on that leg and—,” she reached a hoof out to pull him upright, in her haste brushing against the injured limb and sending a hiss of pain through the veteran. “OhmygoodnessI’msosorry!” she blurted. “I- I didn’t mean to, Twilight you clumsy fool I—
A chuckle from the stallion cut her off as he straightened up. “No trouble at all, your Highness,” he assured her. “You meant no harm, I am quite sure.” With that he neatly took the hoof she had offered him and kissed it as a well-born stallion ought to in the presence of his liege. Technically, Twilight knew that it was the right and proper thing for him to do, and would have had no qualms about seeing it done for Cadence, Luna, or Celestia.
Twilight turned a bright shade of crimson. “Th- thank you, good sir,” she managed. “And as Princess of Friendship I bid you welcome.”
“You are most gracious, your Highness,” he said warmly, “but you needn’t call me ‘sir,’ as I am merely a humble Color Sergeant.”
A humble Color Sergeant with the Star of Valor and enough scars to fill an entire regiment’s worth of war stories. Twilight felt horrible about how she’d received the stallion who’d clearly given so much for his country, for her country, and resolved that he shouldn’t spend any more time talking up to her of all ponies. “Well then, please just call me ‘Twilight.’ I’ve never liked being called ‘Princess’ or ‘your Highness’ much anyway. I mean,” she gestured to her bare head, “I don’t even wear the crown, hehe, I mean,” please stop talking now, Twilight, “you’re more formally dressed than I am right now, hehehehe...” She plastered a smile to her bright red face as sweat rolled down her cheeks. Smooth.
Hightower gave a throaty chuckle, his face merry. “Well, I suppose if that’s an order then I can’t help but follow it, retired or not. Thank you for granting me the privilege of familiarity, Lady Twilight.”
Even being called ‘Lady Twilight’ struck the alicorn as needlessly formal, and she opened her mouth to object, but an inner voice stopped her. You’ve already messed up welcoming a war veteran, berated her inner self, and as both a Trottingham native and a guardpony, he’s probably more comfortable with the formality in place. Let’s try to make him feel comfortable, shall we? Celestia knows you could use any help you can get doing that!
She mentally glared at her inner voice. No need to get smart with me, brain.
Before her brain could retort she realized that was standing having an internal monologue in front of her guest, who stood waiting patiently with a knowing twinkle in his eye that she found…odd. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, remembering her manners.
For the first time, Hightower looked hesitant to comment. “Well,” he grunted, clearing his throat. “That is a bit of a long story. I wonder if I might come in, your…that is to say, Lady Twilight,” he gave a dapper wink. “T’will take some adjusting to the name, wot. Hard to teach an old soldier new tricks, you see.”
Twilight found herself laughing, in spite of her awkwardness. “Well, I jabbed your foreleg earlier, so I think I can forgive you.” She stepped aside to let him enter. “We can talk in my library. Right this way, Sergeant— oh I’m so sorry, Color Sergeant—
“Plain ‘Hightower’ will do if you’re more comfortable that way, Lady Twilight,” he assured her with a knowing grin as he limped inside. “I suppose I ought to have guessed that you’d insist on dropping the formalities, given your preference for more casual forms of address.” Twilight blinked. What does he mean by that? How would he know my preferences? “Besides, technically as my superior you are not bound to call me by my rank.”
“Er, yes of course Ser— er, Col— er, Hightower,” she blushed, eliciting another chuckle from the sergeant. In some ponies, such amusement at her embarrassment might have been mocking. Certainly been a lot of that going around lately. But that wasn’t the impression that she got from Hightower. His laughter was kind, as though he found her embarrassment charming. It struck her as paternal, somehow. I suppose that’s a fitting trait in a sergeant. She kept her pace slow on their walk so as to not tire him unduly. Hightower commented on the castle with great admiration, making a couple off-hoofed comments on some of the more tasteless palaces he’d seen in foreign lands; comments which probably would have caused quite a scandal if dignitaries from those lands had overhead. Twilight, the Princess of Friendship, always keen to ensure that every person she met was properly respected, found herself laughing in a manner quite unbecoming a royal at the frank remarks of the veteran.
She also took the opportunity to study him more closely. The sergeant had even more scars than she’d originally noticed. Some of the older ones, mostly faded from his frame, appeared to have been courtesy of blades or claws, likely griffon claws if the spacing was any indication. The more recent scars, however, were often more jagged, and the claw marks were the wrong spacing for griffons. More than one burn mark could be seen, and some of the wounds suggested shrapnel.
Twilight checked the left breast of his uniform as discretely as she could to see if she recognized any of the campaign ribbons. Some raised hazy memories, but to her chagrin she couldn’t remember anything for sure. How do you not know this? You’re a Princess for Ponies’ sake! You should know where your soldiers have fought and bled!
Something he’d said while he’d introduced himself rang in her head. The 51st Infantry … wait, isn’t that—
Hightower cleared his throat. “Er, which door was it, Milady Twilight?” he asked.
Twilight’s gaze flicked to her right, and she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker for bringing them to a halt in front of the correct door when she’d been distracted. “Right through here, good sir.” Hightower gave a dry smile as she called him ‘sir’ and she giggled as she ushered him into the room. “I mean, Hightower,” she corrected. “I’m not usually this formal. I suppose you’re having an effect on me.”
The stallion gave an inscrutable smile as he made his way to a high-backed chair. “I’m glad to hear it’s mutual then.”
Twilight blinked. What did he mean by that? She followed him in, burning with questions. Every bone in her body screamed at her to begin prying information from the mysterious soldier, but the decorum her parents and Celestia had raised her with demanded that the guest’s needs come first. And she’d had plenty of experience with that challenge since becoming a princess. “Can I offer you something to drink, perhaps? Some Earl Grey tea for your Trottingham sensibilities?” Her eyes dilated. “I just heard what that sounded like out loud. Was that super insensitive of me to just assume that? Because I am so sorry for—
Hightower’s laughter swiftly disarmed her unease. “Think nothing of it, Lady Twilight. It is a well-deserved stereotype. We Trottingham stallions have an unhealthy affinity for that drink. Why, whenever there is a big hoofball match, or ‘soccer’ as you continentals call it, they have to stock all the stores in bulk a week in advance so they don’t run out, and that’s no exaggeration!” Twilight giggled, feeling her shoulders relax. The sergeant had a certain genteel humor that she found quite disarming, and, despite her initial discomfort, she now felt more at ease in his presence.
“So, tea then?”
“Actually, for all the horror it would cause my father, Maker rest his soul, I would prefer coffee if you have it. I acquired a taste for it when stationed at the Saddle Arabian Embassy.”
So he’s spent time as an embassy guard then, she thought to herself as she hastily brewed a pot of Zebrican coffee. Makes sense for somepony with his decorations, but probably not where he got those scars. He said the 51st Infantry, though. Isn’t that… her head perked up and her ears fell flat. “Oh, sweet Celestia, he’s part of the REF.”
The Royal Expeditionary Force was one of the few Equestrian military units that regularly saw combat. Though Equestria itself had not been to war in centuries, as the most powerful and most economically and politically stable kingdom in the known world it was frequently called upon to secure trade routes and arbitrate disputes between foreign powers. And, on the occasions where tyrants rose to conquer and oppress, it was Equestria that the world looked to to bring peace.
The REF was its means. Comprised of the most veteran regiments of the Guard, they’d fought against threats ranging from griffon mercenaries turned bandit to rogue unicorn and zebra mages and shamans. It was considered the most honorable posting a guardpony could aspire to, and was also the deadliest. Her brother had served a tour fighting ibex raiders to the west with the 101st Cavaliers. Her uncle, Red Lance, had earned the Star of Valor lifting the Siege of Viennhoof with the 3rd Hussars. Going back further, her family had several generations of history in uniform on her mother’s side, not to mention the occasional soldier on her father’s. And now a stallion from the 51st is sitting in my library…
Her hooves shook a little as she wound her way back to the library.
Hightower thanked her graciously for the coffee and sipped it with appreciation for several moments. Twilight’s tea sat untouched beside her. The sergeant drank about half his cup in silence before setting the rest on the table for later. His dapper smile was unreadable. He seemed to be waiting for something, and his eyes flashed with what might have been awkwardness as the silence dragged on.
Say something, Princess! “So, erm, what, brings you to my, well, castle?” the words came out haltingly.
Hightower gave a look of what might have been relief, but it was swiftly replaced with the same inscrutable smile. “It’s plain you’re bursting with questions, Lady Twilight. Pray, don’t stand on ceremony.”
Twilight needed no further prompting. “Why are you actually at my castle, because, I mean, it’s obvious that you’re not just here for a chat or to say hi to the Princess of Friendship because who does that, right? But you obviously have something on your mind, and it had to have been painful to walk here from the train station, which you must have done because there was no taxi in sight when I opened the door and Ponyville is kind of a small town, and—
She clamped both hooves over her mouth, her face bright red, then let out a breath and asked in a more metered manner, “Why is a veteran of the REF, decorated with the Star of Valor, visiting a young princess?”
The sergeant smiled broadly, his eyes twinkling as his voice dipped. “Why indeed, Lady Twilight? It’s apparent you’ve remembered who the 51st are,” he continued, leaning back in his chair. “Not surprising, given your love for history and your family’s honorable lineage in the Armed Forces. Going back seven generations on your mother’s side alone; quite the proud heritage, I’d say, wot.” Before she could wonder how he knew so much about her family line he carried on. “Tell me, Lady Twilight, what do you know of the Kudandan War?”
Twilight thought back and winced when not a lot came up. “Not as much as I should, I’m sorry to say. I remember that one group of kudu were stirred up to attack the zebras living in their kingdom.” She felt a sickness in her stomach at the abhorrent thought of killing another group of people just because they were different. That’s what almost happened to us, though, isn’t it? We Three Tribes almost destroyed each other before the Windigoes forced us to get over our differences. “I know the REF was sent to protect the zebras and stop the war but…” she trailed off, hanging her head in shame. “I’m sorry. I know I should know more, but, well, I was too focused on my studies at that time and a lot slipped by.” It hurt to admit that. She felt like she was denying him and everyone else who had suffered in that war by not knowing.
Hightower didn’t seem offended. “There’s no shame in ignorance, only in willfully remaining that way. I simply appreciate that you know what you do. If you want, I’ll tell you a little of my part in that war, in the hopes that my presence will make more sense.” She mutely nodded. Taking a deep breath, the stallion launched into his tale.
“The lands beyond Equestria are varied in nature. Many are peaceful and prosperous, with honorable rulers and hard-working peoples. But many have been set in the ways of violence for so many generations that it’s difficult for them to understand any other way of thinking. It’s all too easy for people to judge based on old hurts and fears than on what’s right in front of them, even in Equestria.” Twilight recalled her own introduction to Zecora and nodded. “In war-torn lands where the hatred has had centuries to fester, well, sometimes it’s best described as a ‘powder keg.’ The Kudu and the Zebras were once bitter enemies a millennia ago, often vying for control of the same territory. At one point, the zebras used their superior knowledge of potions and magic to dominate the kudu utterly and demand labor in return for the blessings that magic could bring. The similarities to the treatment of the earth ponies by the other tribes during the same period are … uncomfortably significant. When a particularly nasty zebra monarch came to power during that pivotal time, bloodshed was inevitable. A number of wars were fought before a more moderate zebra came to power. He pushed his people in a new direction, ended their conquering ways, and set their Tribe on a path to peace and harmony with the other peoples around them. For most, it was enough to let old wounds stay in the past. But in the Kudu Lands, there has long festered a tension between the kudu majority and the zebra minority, and in time,” the soldier heaved a weary sigh, “in time the maniacs took over the asylum.”
The clock ticked against the wall, the only sound in the room. Hightower’s gaze was a thousand miles away. “It wasn’t just a war, Twilight,” he said, so softly that she could barely hear him. “It was a massacre. The militia that rose up killed anyone they thought was the enemy. Zebras, ponies, other kudu … mobs of them roamed the streets like wild animals, armed with clubs and machetes, dragging people out of their homes and killing them in the streets. And the government that ruled the Kudanda at the time had become a vicious one; any kudu that opposed their hatred had been forced out or killed, and the military was remade in the same way, with the soldiers who were tolerant and peace-minded replaced by the most ruthless ones the government could find. They even hired mercenaries for the jobs: griffons, ibex, diamond dogs, even ponies for Celestia’s sake!” he practically spat the name of his own species. “How anyone born under the Light of Celestia could stoop so low as to—
He shut his eyes against whatever it was that he saw. Twilight wondered if there was something she should say or do, but had no idea what. She’d faced Darkness before, yes. Tyrants who might have become what Hightower had seen. But they never made it that far. At least, not here. How could anyone do these things? How could anyone just … murder like that?
Opening his eyes, Hightower continued. “It wasn’t long before the Zebrican King heard of what was happening. He wanted to march to war at once, but when he turned to Celestia for aid, she warned him that more Zebra troops would only make the militia think that they’d been justified in what they were doing. The Zebrican soldiers would hold the border and provide food and medical aid. But stopping the massacre would be Equestria’s duty.”
Hightower straightened, his manner becoming rigid and military, almost clinical. “I’ll spare you the gruesome details of the war, Princess. Suffice it to say, the fighting was fierce. The militia couldn’t stand up to us in a fight, but the Kudandan government had trained infantry, mercenary air support, and artillery to bring to bear. They were outclassed by us, of course,” he added with a touch of pride, “but it was an uphill battle oftentimes. There are many stories I could tell you, some heroic, some terrible. I earned many scars in that war, Princess, but these…” he gestured to his shattered foreleg and missing rear leg. “These came the day that everything changed.”
“It was a Tuesday. Bright. Sunny. Three battalions of enemy soldiers had holed up in the ruins of a town. The 51st was charged with getting them out. We bombarded them with air strikes and artillery fire for several hours.” He cracked a fond smile. “I even remember Lieutenant Firestreak, on loan to us with a few other Wonderbolts, diving in mere meters from the soil to drop bombs right on their ruddy flanks at point blank range. No wonder everypony loves sky-jockeys.” He blinked. “Anyway, after the bombardment, we charged into the city and began fighting them street to street. It wasn’t a fair fight; we had better soldiers and better equipment, and our initial barrage had destroyed their cannons. Or at least,” his face fell and Twilight felt a pit form in her stomach, “so we thought. No strategy survives contact with the enemy, and no barrage ever hits every target. One second I was rounding a corner, the next a canister shot was landing at my feet.” Hightower shook his head. “Blew my leg clean off and sent forty-seven assorted pieces of shrapnel through my body, like my armor wasn’t even there.” A mistiness came to Hightower’s eyes. “My mates saw what happened to me, of course. They reckoned I needed saving, I suppose, but I didn’t. I didn’t need saving. Not that badly, anyway.” He said it desperately, as if the protest would somehow change events. “I didn’t need saving, but they came for me, and,” his voice cracked, “and there was a second cannon.”
A sob escaped his lips. The stallion’s powerful frame shook as tears poured down his cheeks. Twilight watched him weep, as her own tears flowed, and suddenly their respective titles, their awkward meeting, and every ounce of confusion she’d had were gone as though they’d never existed. She crossed the distance between them without realizing it and wrapped both forelegs and wings around him in a close embrace. The veteran warrior sobbed into her chest like a babe, and Twilight couldn’t dream of thinking any less of him for it.
How long they sat like that, Twilight couldn’t tell, but eventually the stallion cleared his throat and stiffened. “I’m sorry,” he managed with some of his previous poise. “It’s unbecoming to carry on this way.”
“No,” she corrected gently. “No it isn’t. If we don’t grieve, how can we say we love?”
He gave a shaky grin and nodded.
After some time had passed, Twilight responded to an unspoken request and returned to her seat. Regaining his composure, Hightower continued. “I lost three brothers to that barrage, Princess,” he said, and Twilight belatedly noticed that he’d slipped back into his automatic formality. “And a half dozen more were wounded. But there were twelve guards in my squad, and those that could still move slotted those gunners in fine fashion before dragging me back to the field hospital. It was touch-and-go there for a while, but eventually they managed to stabilize me enough to ship me home to Trottingham.” He scratched his close-cut mane. “I still don’t remember a lot about the surgeries, which I’m told is just as well. When I finally woke up from the haze, though, what I do remember is this: I was finally home, finally back in Equestria, surrounded by friends and family and all I could think was, why?” He tilted his head as though pondering. “Why am I still alive, when my brothers-in-arms are dead and gone?”
“Survivor’s guilt, they called it,” he said, retrieving his coffee and taking a long drink. “Feeling like you betrayed your mates by going on living when they had just as much to live for as you, if not more.” Twilight tried to picture what it would have been like to have survived the battle with Sombra or Tirek only to find that one of her friends hadn’t. The thought made her queasy. “I felt like the most loathsome stallion in the service, but that wasn’t the worst of it. No, Lady Twilight, the worst of it was Equestria itself.”
Twilight couldn’t quite keep a gasp of shock from coming out. Hightower simply smiled. “Yes, troubling, I know, but that’s how it was. I came back home, having seen so many horrors, only to find a country full of people how had no ruddy clue what I’d been through. Ponies would see my scars and stare in horror, much as you did when I first arrived,” he winked cheekily as she turned bright crimson. “It’s a perfectly understandable reaction, of course. Few ponies are used to seeing horrors like my injuries, and they should be right thankful for it! I’m at peace with that now, but at the time it just made me feel more isolated and alone. And that was only the start! All around me I saw ponies going about their normal days, like there wasn’t a war fresh from Tartarus happening just a few kingdoms over, like my brothers- and sisters-in-arms weren’t dying, like innocent kudus and zebras and ponies weren’t being massacred. They shopped, and they sang, and they complained about long days at the office and missing the taxi when I had gone for days without sleep because of shelling and was missing a limb!” He gave an odd chuckle. “Every little thing seemed to offend me. And the worst, of course, were the anti-war ponies.” He rolled his eyes. “They’d see my injuries and come over with borrowed outrage that they learned at university and wax eloquent about how Equestria ‘shouldn’t be fighting other ponies’ wars’ and ‘should stop this imperialistic expansion’ and even ‘depose the tyrant Celestia!’” He chuckled as he heard Twilight grinding her teeth. “I can see you feel the same way. And every time one of them would spout off a load of nonsense, all I could think was, ‘What do you know? You didn’t see the children, emaciated, orphaned, and afraid, hiding in the sewer because it was the safest place to be! You didn’t see the bodies, old, young, male, female, lying in heaps inside churches and schoolyards! You didn’t see the victims, zebras, kudus, ponies, peoples of all races and colors, made one by the dirt and blood that colored them all the same! And you didn’t see the Enemy, these … savages who’d turned on their own kind like they were under some Diabolical spell! How dare you claim that we shouldn’t protect the innocent! How dare you spit on the dead! How dare you—
The mug cracked in his grasp. For the first time since she’d met him, Twilight saw the stallion blush. “I apologize, your Highness. As you can see this is still a sensitive subject for me.”
She waved away his apology. “I’d be amazed if it wasn’t. I’m outraged and I wasn’t even involved!”
He smiled ruefully. “Yes, well, unfortunately my outrage went far beyond any measure of righteous anger. I was angry at everypony. Even ponies who would come and thank me graciously for my service, even those with tears in their eyes … unless they wore a uniform like me, I hated them, Twilight.” He bowed his head in shame. “I hated them because they didn’t understand. How could they? I served to protect them from what I saw, but I couldn’t see that. All I saw was how much they didn’t understand. They didn’t know what it was like to lose brothers in battle. They didn’t know what it was like to see death. They didn’t know what it was like to kill, to take the life of another thinking being. And I hated them, because they could not, literally could not understand what I am.” He shook his head, staring at the floor. “It’s a terrible thing, to hate that much. To feel like there is no beauty in the world. To see only the grimness, the misery, the things that are not rather than the things that are. To believe that there is nothing better, and that there never can be. I felt like every mundane act of every mundane pony around me spat on my comrades’ memory and I thought, ‘Is this it? Is this what we bled for? Is this what they died for? Is this all?’”
“This took root in me in a terrible way, dominating me, festering for years, and though my body healed, my heart did not. One by one I pushed away everypony who ever cared about me, until only a tenacious few would even dare my presence. I was in a … a very dark place, Twilight.” He looked up with an odd smile on his lips. “A dark place that you know as well.”
That sent a jolt through her. “Wait, me?!” she practically screamed. “How could I possibly know what that’s like?!”
His smile broadened. “Because you know what it’s like to see the world in grey.”
Twilight blinked. “I— uh— huh?”
Hightower set the mug down, looking amused. “You probably don’t know this, Lady Twilight, but within the EUP Guard, you and your friends enjoy a reputation somewhere between hero worship and sainthood.”
Twilight blinked. “We— I— what?! Why?!”
The sergeant gave a hearty laugh. “Such modesty is quite becoming, Twilight, but honestly! I can’t help but find it funny that you’re surprised!” She gawped at him, mutely demanding explanation. Between chuckles he obliged. “Consider this. If Queen Chrysalis and her army had taken Canterlot, defeating Celestia and the Elements of Harmony and absorbing the love of Shining Armor, Cadence, and heaven only knows how many citizens, how many soldiers do you think would have died retaking our capital?” Twilight thought about the size of the city, the power of Chrysalis and her minions when empowered with that much love, and blanched. “Never even considered it, did you? And that’s leaving aside Sombra, Discord, and Maker help us Tirek! You’ve stopped literally over a dozen threats to Equestria’s survival personally, and never expected anything in return!” He guffawed. “In fact, half the time you’ve even gone so far as to make allies of the very people who threatened us in the first place! Right efficient of you, eh?”
“I- I guess I never thought of it that— bu-but weren’t not heroes! We’re certainly not saints!” she insisted. “All we’ve ever done is what we should do, what any pony should do when they see something bad happening and have the power to stop it!”
“A noble sentiment indeed,” smiled Hightower. “One I feel you would call heroic and perhaps even saintly were you to see it in another like, say, Celestia or Shining Armor.” Twilight’s mouth flapped open, but no words came out. Hightower chuckled and continued with his story. “As I said, you are revered by most every member of the armed forces, and I was no exception to that rule. One day not so long ago I was out and about stretching my legs with one of the few ponies still able to stand my company: a medic sister-in-arms from the war named Sergeant Splint. She was insisting, as she has for years, that I get some air. I didn’t much want to, but Splint isn’t the kind to take 'no' for an answer, so she dragged my sorry flank out and walked me about for an interminable amount of time, all the while going on about how I needed to smile more, talk to other ponies, and generally do something other than brood all the time.” He smiled faintly at the recollection. “She was right, of course, but I can be a mite stubborn when I wish to be, and I’d had more than half a decade of brooding to set my course. Splint knew this, which was why she had a backup plan. As it happened, we weren’t just walking for no reason. She was taking me to a bookstore.”
Good mare! thought Twilight.
As if hearing her thought, Hightower said, “No doubt you would approve of her methods. She brought me to a section of the store where they had a brightly colored display proclaiming that a certain friendship journal was being sold here.” Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. “She picked up one of the volumes, turned to me and said, ‘Hightower, you’ve been hating yourself and hating the world for far too long, and I’m sick of it. As your medic and your friend, I’m buying you this book to read, and I won’t be taking no for an answer!’ Here she was, holding the journal of some of the only ponies outside the military that I had respect for; nay, ponies I held as heroes, and, I must admit, I was terrified.”
Twilight blinked. “You were … you were terrified?”
“Yes!” laughed Hightower, genuinely amused. “Me, Color Sergeant Hightower, who once fought off half a platoon of griffon mercenaries with a box of grenades and a stubborn streak a mile wide, and I was afraid to read a journal from a group of young mares nearly half my age! I was afraid, Princess. Truly afraid because, when you think yourself wretched, when you hate the world and you hate yourself and you can’t seem to make up your mind which you hate more, the prospect of reading about six ponies whose love and friendship is so strong as to overthrow tyrants and banish monsters is about the most terrifying thing imaginable. Because they represent everything you once aspired to, and I thought that reading about legends like yourselves could only serve to cement how little our country deserved you, and how far I had fallen from any semblance of grace in comparison to you.” He shook his head. “The last thing I wanted in that moment was to read that book, but Splint had that look in her eyes that said she would strap me down and read it to me herself if I refused. Worse yet, she was one of the only ponies who could still tolerate me. So I was trapped.”
“When I got home that night, I thought to only read a single chapter, to be able to tell Splint that I’d done it without having to think too long on my filthy soul. But when I opened that book, I discovered something that shocked me. Something that upended every notion I’d held to that point. And do you know what that was, Lady Twilight?” She shook her head, unable to speak. He let out a hearty laugh. “I discovered that you’re all flawed too, just like me!” His throaty mirth reverberated off the room. “Oh, such surprise to see! To discover that these heroes, these legends got into fights about petty things, and got scared, and made mistakes, and had quirks and bad habits and vices! I discovered that you didn’t always know what you were doing, and that, like soldiers, when the chips were down you could be panicky, confused, frightened …” even as he laughed, his eyes grew moist. “And, Maker bless you, I discovered that my heroes knew what it was like to see the world in grey!”
See the world in grey … the thought rang in Twilight’s head. She couldn’t understand what he meant by—
Discord! she realized with a jolt. When he turned us against each other, when I lost my friends, it was as though all the color went out of the world, as though all the color went out of me! I couldn’t see beauty, I couldn’t see life! I was in despair!
She looked back up at the beaming Hightower. “We saw the world in grey…”
“Yes you did,” he responded, a touch huskily. “Just like me! And suddenly I knew that I wasn’t alone! That I wasn’t somehow broken or damaged for having questioned things, for having suffered, for having lost! I knew that even saints could give in to despair at times, but that it didn’t have to end there! That there was hope! And if the subduers of Chaos could find hope, then by Celestia so could I! I read that entire book that night, and the next day I read it again! And again, and again! Each time I did, I found new insights. Twilight, when I saw how many of your lessons were about the little things in life, at first they seemed to pale in comparison to the big things. But then I started to see that it’s all connected. The little acts of kindness, generosity, laughter, loyalty, honesty, and friendship that made you into the kinds of ponies with the moral courage to face such great evils … it was the little things that let you face the big things! More than that, it was the little things that touched so many lives, brightened so many days; these little moments of goodness and heroism and suddenly I could see,” tears began to roll down his cheeks as he gazed into the distance as though looking upon an angel, “I could see those little goods in the ponies around me … in the ponies I’d despised for so long; in those I’d rejected; in those I’d pushed away. I could see the goodness in the common pony again, and with that I could see the goodness in my country again, and suddenly I realized … no … I remembered something that I’d forgotten: that this land of ours, that these people who are our brothers and sisters, that this beautiful place that is Equestria, is worth every drop of sweat and blood we have to offer!” He turned to face her. “And it’s made that way by you, Twilight! By you and your friends! By every pony who makes the most of the life that they are given! By the little acts of goodness that give the world its colors! So thank you, Twilight!” He could scarcely get the words out through his emotion. “Thank you for helping me see the colors again! Thank you for making the most of the blood we sacrificed! Thank you for making my brothers’ deaths worth something! Thank you ... for being worth fighting for!”
Twilight could not keep herself from flinging her hooves around the stallion and weeping into his shoulder. She couldn’t find the words to thank him for everything he’d done for her. As far as Hightower was concerned, she already had.
It was some time later that Hightower left. Twilight did not know the exact time that had passed, nor did she care to consider it. To ask would be to cheapen the moment, somehow. They had exchanged few words after Hightower’s story had ended. But then, Twilight reasoned, what words could possibly have sufficed?
As the sun began to set, she bid farewell to the Color Sergeant, acknowledging his crisp salute with all the regality she could muster. She owed him that much. When he had gone, she hastily made her way back to the study, levitating over two scrolls, a pen, and an inkwell. One letter would be addressed to her friends in Appaloosa, informing them of a change of plans. But first, there was another letter she had to write.
Dear Princess Celestia,
No matter how far a pony comes, there is never a time where she can’t learn a new lesson. Lately I have struggled with feeling like ponies don’t appreciate and don’t understand the stories about friendship that my friends and I have shared with them. It makes it pretty easy to feel discouraged and depressed, and to forget to see all the good that’s out there: all the ponies you’ve helped, all the ponies who’ve helped each other, and all the ponies who’ve helped you. It becomes difficult to see the vibrant colors of the world, so to speak.
Well, today I was privileged to learn a lesson from one of your most faithful subjects. Color Sergeant Hightower of the 51st Infantry Regiment (retired), veteran of the Kudandan War and recipient of the Star of Valor, taught me something today: that just because you don’t see the colors doesn’t mean they aren’t there. That something doesn’t have to be big or impressive to be good and heroic. That sometimes the best way of thanking someone for their sacrifice is to make the most of their sacrifice. It’s too easy to forget the price of freedom, and even when we remember it is hard to know how best to thank those who have given so much. The reality is that nothing we do can ever truly repay the debt. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try, because even the littlest things we do can have a big impact. To put it another way, you don’t have to do great things to be good. You just have to do the little things with great love. And for those who do great things with great love, you must show them the respect they deserve by striving to be good yourself, whatever form that may take.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
Color Sergeant Hightower closed his eyes, taking a moment to feel the grass and soil beneath his hooves, the wind in his mane, the nip of the air against his flesh. He tasted the moisture that hung after last night’s shower, relishing in the damp upon his coat. Even the twinges in his damaged limbs couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He had always loved the mornings after rain, and now he could love them again. Opening his eyes, he took in the glory of the scene before him: the open blue skies, the rolling hills, the delicate willow trees …
… and the dew-covered grass and poppies that grew between hundreds of white tombstones.
Three tombstones in particularly, he thought as he stepped forward, feeling a pang of familiar anguish that couldn’t quite dim the fond smile on his face. “Hello, boys,” he greeted. “Good to see you all again.” The wind rustled the leaves of the willows. “I … I know I’ve been away for a while. In more ways than one, really.” He sighed. “I owe you gents an apology. I got this silly thought into my head that I’d failed you lot somehow, and that our country had failed us. I was too ashamed to face you. But then …” he cast his gaze across the Fields of Honor, "then some very special ponies reminded me that fighting for something good is never meaningless, never wrong, and that there is beauty and color in the world that’s worth every last ounce of life we have to give.” He raised his mutilated forehoof and rested it on the center headstone. “I want you gents to know that I’ll never stop missing you, but that I’m going to make the most of the life you gave me and stop wasting your gift.” The soldier gave a tired chuckle. “Sorry it took so ruddy long, but I’m sure you lot remember how stubborn I am. But no more!” he declared, removing his hoof. “On my honor, I’ll go on living for all of us! And I’ll make bloody sure to make good work of what I’ve got.” He snapped a parade ground salute, holding the posture for the full regimental length before letting his hoof down. “Sleep well, my brothers,” he bade. “I look forward to sharing my adventures with you when we meet again.” Dipping his head in farewell, he turned to leave the way he came, a route that took him around a hedge row and out through another section of the cemetery.
That is, it would have, if not for the arrival of seven brightly colored ponies and one purple dragon who suddenly rounded the hedge in front of him. He knew at once who they were, of course. Applejack had dispensed with her hat out of respect for the fallen; not that he would have expected anything less, of course. Rarity had done fine work, outfitting her friends in formal attire that was somber while retaining a splash of color in honor of the lives lived, as was the custom of ponies. Rainbow Dash was the only exception, having donned the dress blues of the Equestrian Air Corps, with the insignia of a flight officer on her lapels and the Wonderbolts’ unit patch on her shoulder. Hightower smiled as he saw that Twilight had even worn her crown, something she never did for herself, but only ever for others.
The party froze when they saw him, their shock quickly turning to horror as they seemed to think that they’d interrupted him. Twilight opened her mouth with what would no doubt be another apology, but as Hightower felt tears of happiness well in his eyes, he couldn’t bear to let her do so. “Welcome, honored heroes of Equestria!” be greeted them, saluting and bowing, his joy at seeing them masking the pain. “I am so thankful that you have come to see my comrades!” He indicated the trio of graves with a tilt of his head. “These three reprobates in particular,” he said with a wink.
“We wanted to pay our respects,” said Twilight, her voice not rising above a whisper. “We wanted…
“… it just meant so much to hear…” cut in Applejack with a hoof over her heart.
“… so grateful for what you all sacrificed on our behalf …” added Rarity huskily.
“… and glad we could make you smile …” beamed a tearful Pinkie Pie.
“… I mean who wouldn’t visit ponies so awesome …” said an awestruck Rainbow Dash.
“… ponies who were compassionate to people they didn’t know …” came the barely audible Fluttershy.
“… ponies who would protect people no matter how flawed …” said Starlight Glimmer, hanging her head.
“… and who protected people not because of their race or their status or their kingdom, but because they needed protecting …” declared Spike, a resolute expression on his features.
“… we just felt we had to come,” concluded Twilight. “Like I said before,” she said with a small smile, “we just do what we should do, what anypony should do. But if we were interrupting—
Hightower snorted. “Nonsense! It would be my pleasure to have you join me! Come, come!” he waved them over. After a moment’s hesitation, the eight friends came and gathered in a somber half circle around the trio of graves. “These are my mates,” he declared proudly, “as fine a crop of stallions as ever wore the uniform, wot! Would you like me to introduce you?”
He wasn’t as surprised as he thought he’d be when only Fluttershy found the voice to answer him. “Um … yes please, if you wouldn’t mind.”
With a smile he stepped forward and turned to face them, resting a hoof on the first grave. “Now this here is Corporal Gravedigger. We called him Diggs. Grim-faced and frightful to look at, with a rather bleak name to boot, but a real gentlecolt to all, a gentle giant really. Rather like your brother, Lady Applejack. Next here is Lance Corporal Salt Pillar. Real stick in the mud, that stallion, but with a bone dry sense of humor that would ambush you without warning at the most awkward possible moment. Then there’s Private First Class Dicer. Careful, ladies, he’s quite the silver-tongued charmer! Heh! Why, I remember one time he got it into his head that he was fit to court royalty, and hatched a scheme to be assigned to Princess Cadence’s royal guard (this was well back before she was engaged, you understand). Anyway, he managed to bribe a logistical officer with a barrel of 997 Blackjack, don’t ask me where he got it, and that started a whole series of shenanigans that very nearly wound us all in the brig! Fortunately for us, Splint owed Gravedigger a favor, and so she…
Author's Note
This has been a story I’ve wanted to write for a long time. I’ve studied military history since I could read, absorbing every document, memoire, and story about war and about soldiers that I could get my hands on. I gained a deep and abiding respect for the untold multitude of men and women throughout history who have, at one time or another, seen an evil in the world and stood against it, often at the cost of their own lives. For a long time I wanted to join the military. I felt it was my duty. However, I am unable to serve in the armed forces due to health restrictions. This left me feeling at a loss, because I wanted to serve, to give back to the country that had given me so much but, more than that, to give back to the men and women who had served before. I wanted to honor them with my own service. Finding myself unable to do so, I didn’t know how to repay the debt.
Really, how can we repay the debt? After all, soldiers face more than just injury and death. They face losing friends. They face trauma. They face killing. Even those that don’t face PTSD or physical damage often return to a people who directly disrespect and belittle their sacrifices or who outright don’t care. Many veterans remark on how they find it hard to adjust back to civilian life, where the mundane concerns of life pale in comparison to being shot at and losing friends. It can be all too easy to give into doubt, depression, and despair, and all too many veterans fall prey to these destructive patterns. Even those who come back and suffer few traumas day to day still often have nightmares, grieve over fallen comrades, and face living in a society that does not, cannot understand what it is like to have to kill or be killed, because that isn’t something most people experience. It’s such a heavy price, even for those who come back largely unscathed. So how can we possibly thank them?
My insight is the same that Hightower and Twilight shared.
To honor those who sacrifice for you, make the most of their sacrifice. Or, to put it in simpler terms: Live Well!
Our lives don’t need to be big and bombastic. We needn’t deal with the grandiose and awe-inspiring to be good. Simply live with integrity, compassion, charity, devotion, and optimism. Be a friend to all. Live with honor. When you face the hardships of day to day life, bear them with patience and grace. When you face the little evils of the day, fight them with your little goods. Just as little evils can lead to great tragedies, so also can the tiniest act of goodness can send a ripple through the lives of untold numbers of people. You won’t be perfect. You will make mistakes. But if you take responsibility for your actions, meeting each day with an honest effort to be better, to do your tiny part, to do little things with great love, then I promise you, you will be a hero in your own way. One of those everyday heroes that we’ve all been touched by. And, should you face a great evil, you will have become so accustomed to fighting the little evils that you’ll be better able to face the great ones. And that is what our gratitude should look like: being a people of goodness; a people worth fighting for.
This is how we thank the fallen. We can make the most of their great gift to us by simply living well.
Which, of course, is not to say that we shouldn’t say ‘thank you’ whenever we find ourselves in the presence of one of these heroes.
To all those who have served, all those who have protected us, sacrificing blood, sweat, and tears for our freedom, we say this:
Thank you for your gift. Thank you for your courage. Thank you for your sacrifice. May we always honor you to the best of our abilities. May your sins be forgiven and your virtues praised to the heavens. May we always remember with gratitude the untold glory of your service. May you rest in eternal peace in Heaven, in the company of the saints and angels for all time. Rest in honor. Rest in glory.
Amen.
God bless you all, and God bless our troops.
Veteran’s Day, 2017
