The train ride from Frosthill to Weter was a long, tedious task with numerous delays and train switching in lonely train stations in desolate towns on account of the poor terrain and inconsistent nature of the few rail lines in the western territories, with nothing to see for miles but rocky mountains and barren valleys or occasional struggling farming village that took nearly two days if you were lucky and up to a week if not.
Even then, you might not get there with everything you own as thievery and train robbing still took place despite the best attempts of those in power to stop any and all banditry on the frontier, whether it be inside and outside of towns. So while the frontier was no longer a bandit-infested, cannibal filled hold out for traitors and crazies it was now just a mountainous wasteland with some bandits a few cannibal tribes and the occasional loony Redtail supporter.
However, once on the reverse side of the Duli mountain range in the middle of the nation, any bandit knew that was too close to the big cities and not worth the risk of capture and, most likely, hanging or lengthy sentences given by some judge who’s money they were most likely trying to nab.
Heart knew all this well. The only times he or whatever gang he was in at a certain time had nearly been caught was when they were dumb enough to try and rob a government train there in an attempt to make a quick good payday. Luckily for him, no law grif, soldier or even bullet had ever caught up to him yet. That wasn’t for the bullets lack of trying however and he knew he was damn lucky to not be like many of his ilk.
No, only his own guilt had eventually caught up after a while of settling down after deciding his trade was to dangerous to continue with the governors' crusade against bandits. He was reminded of his past actions as he sat in the empty, quiet train car, watching the bland, boring scenery pass outside the window with nothing to take his mind off of things. He shook his head at his old memories as he had for the last few years since quitting his two-bit banditry. He checked his pocket watch and saw he had at least a few more hours to dwell on things.
Growing up in Frosthill, the capital of not the only frontier but corruption, lazy officials, bad cops and every kind of crook, he hadn’t seen much alternative: it was die in a mine a poor miner, try and get by as a farmer in the rocky soil fearing for his life every day or become one of the ever so feared bandits or just plain starve and so when the chance at the bandit position opened up, he jumped on it when he was young. Looking back on it, he wasn’t sure he’d even change his choice of career
But hindsight truly was 20/20, this he knew now as he continued to think of every conductor he’d threaten to gut. Every disobedient passenger he’d slapped around. Every scared chick or kid he’d taken money from. Of every other crooked thing he had done just to get by, even if he was far from the worse grif he knew. Still, the guilt from all he’d done was enough to make him feel awful but just not enough to convince himself to face justice in court. He couldn’t stand the fact he’d done these actions… and yet, he still questioned his current task and wondered if he outta just turn himself in and not try his plan. His get out of jail free card is what he hoped it’d be and not his early death.
“What if they recognize you? You’ll be a goner walking in, trying to do what you’re doing.” His past side said, his survivalist side “you were lucky to not get caught when you joined up. Now you’re gonna try and volunteer for some crazy idea that might not even work?”
The voice inside his head wasn’t wrong. He was lucky to never been caught when he’d, ironically enough, joined a Frontier Rifles unit despite the fact his last crime had taken place nearly 5 years ago. He had never murdered a grif, at least not in cold blood, but all his robbings, raidings and associated crimes could easily get him hanged and he suspected all it would take was one nosey law grif to get to the gallows. Far as he could tell, no one suspected him and by all accounts, he was a good soldier with damn fine aim who was never scared to run off wildlife or whatever else might need to be dealt with daily. He might have wronged plenty of grifs, but helping them did always make him feel a little better.
“Calm down,” His new side, his more rational yet empathetic side replied “there’s no way they’ll have some two-bit bandits picture hanging up in the capital seeing as how many other problems they have nowadays. With my spotless and decent enough soldiering record, there’s no way they’ll turn me down. And this is my chance to push back some of my demons… there’s no way they’ll hang a war hero.”
His plan was simple. The government had been asking for grifs from militia units all throughout Nova Griffiona and the frontier to come to the capital and join one of three volunteers divisions being sent to help the Equestrians in their war with the Changelings. Heart didn’t care much for ponies in general but he damn sure didn’t want Changelings in power or more importantly, knocking on his homelands front door. So what if he was doing it to escape the possibility of justice? He was still helping others and no one could fault him for that in the end… or so he hoped
He’d been having this conversation with himself since he’d cooked up his plan, the days after he’d told his CO he’d be leaving to go through with it had made it more and more frequent and he’d had it almost every few hours he’d been on the trains there. The thought of continuing it further made him sigh in quiet frustration. Why did this have to come now? Why couldn’t he just accept this was what he had to do? He couldn’t turn himself in, he couldn’t keep hiding and holding this in, a pardon was almost out of the question and he liked breathing. Even if he did die doing this, he’d die the way every grif wanted to: fighting and not choking on some others rope. He grunted in less quiet frustration and decided to get his mind off it for now, lest he get there and take the first train back.
“I should just get some shut eye for now,” he mumbled aloud, pulling his jacket closer to help with the cold air of the cabin on account of the cold mountain air outside. He lay his head against the cold window, knowing he needed the rest for now and later. Despite not being a very traditional grif, he couldn’t help but think about the gods for a moment and then he immediately turned bitter at the thought of them “the gods grant me a good nap a least.” he murmured sarcastically
With another sigh, Heart closed his eyes and tried to drift off to the sound of train wheels chugging and the trains whistle blowing that still made him think of a payday. Regardless of what they made him think of, they were comforting, familiar sounds and helped him ease off to sleep as he instinctively grasp the revolver hidden under his coat.
***
Heartfeather awoke with a snort as he felt a claw grasp his shoulder, his eyes shooting open as he jumped up in surprise. He was ready to do or die when his groggy mind took note of the old, surprised looking conductor standing in front of him and he immediately took a moment to calm down before speaking again.
He cleared his throat and tried to look apologetic, “Sorry mister, you startled me is all. Can I help you with something?”
The conductor took a moment to compose himself, seemingly off-put by Hearts strong reaction to merely being touched, “No sir, I was just trying to inform you that we have arrived in Weter and you must get off.”
“We’re there? Already?” Heart asked in confusion as he checked his watch again to find the train had arrived several hours early “well, suppose I can’t complain. Eh, you have a good day sir.” He said over his shoulder as he turned to a nearby door, pushing it open and stepping onto the platform, feeling a tad bit bad for startling the old grif who was just trying to do his job. He’d always been jumpy though and doubted that would ever change.
As the train slowly chugged away behind him, hissing and squealing as the old thing started up again, he took a look around the station finding it to be busy compared to the rest he’d seen, with another passenger train coming in just behind his own and a few cargo trains on another track. If there was one place the damn trains ran on time, it was in one of the only civilized places in the old country. Centuries ago, money had flowed into and out of the capital and from all accounts, life in the cities was as good as could be with some of that wealth even bleeding into the surrounding cities and countryside or gone back home to the empire to add to its vast coffers. But ever since the collapse of the Empire as it once was, trade had almost died in the nation overnight and everyone from mere beggars to the wealthiest business grifs had suffered for a long time and it was only recently that the government had managed to fix those troubles only for the damn leader of the country, a persuasive grif named Teafeather who had practically been holding the country together, to get shot. From what he’d heard, things had been chaotic and messy with the military and police only having regained order a few weeks prior.
“Is the whole damned world going to shit or what?” He asked himself as he left the station, walking into the bustling streets. Even in the outskirts of Weter, it was still obviously a large city with hundreds of thousands of souls, holding more grifs than some entire states did combined and was still the hub of commerce. That being said, it was obvious just how much tension was in the air as he walked through the crowded streets, one of the things he always liked back home was spacious, and saw a police grif or MP posted on damn near every street corner and he made sure to hang his head low when passing one. He passed grifs wearing political armbands of all kinds: some supported ideas spit up by some loon named Ironclaw, others were for the traitor Henreich Redtail and some even supported ideas of Harmony like how the ponies did it. All of these groups seemed to avoid each other and when they couldn’t, they would have started a riot or at least a fight if not for the numerous guards or fed up citizens pulling them apart whenever they got started. He’d shake his head at all this foolishness, personally caring very little who was in charge so long as they did everyone right as possible, something he’d always felt the current government was doing.
He avoided each of these events and made no nuisance of himself, avoiding the calls of merchants hawking their goods or the beggars who asked for a few bits, some food and the like, trying to be unassuming as possible despite his dark overcoat, scar along his cheek and peculiar chest feather marking and trying to stop as little as possible in his one-track journey. He’d supposedly gotten his name from the black patch of feathers that ran over his heart amongst his white chest and while he hated it, he’d also gained the nickname “Black Heart” from it.
“Stop worrying so much,” His new side commented again “you’re nobody. No one is gonna recognize you or really even care about you. Just walk into that government office and say “I’d like to fight the bugs. You’ll just be another bored soldier who wanted to go and see some action.”
He did his best to follow his own advice but still found himself nervous, his mind occupied with itself when something in the world finally caught his attention
“Extra! Extra! Read about the pony-changeling war! Extra! New reports here only in the Weter Daily!” Came the sharp cry of a young child trying to sell papers in exchange for, most likely, not even change to feed themselves. Despite having told himself to avoid stopping for anything, he decided he should read up on what he was getting into and made his way through the crowds towards the shrill voice. He walked up to the young, slightly dirty child who waved one of the papers from a stack next to them “hey mister!” the child cried as Heart approached “wanna buy a paper? It's only 5 bits!”
With nothing else but a grunt and a nod, Heart took out the bits and a few extra then tossed them to the kid, “Keep the extra for yourself.” He said as he grabbed a paper from the stack and walked away, sitting on a nearby bench in a small, unkempt park in the middle of the concrete and wood jungle. He read the headline as wasn’t disappointed as it read “Equestrians lose ground to changelings tanks!” In big bold letters. He couldn’t help but frown a bit and feel more justified in his plan. He read on and saw it wasn’t going very well
Multiple reports say that several Equestrian units have been encircled and destroyed while multiple cities including Vanhoover, Ancornage, and Tall Tales have fallen quickly to advancing changelings Panzers. As frontlines units fight desperately, reserves and newly raised divisions race along with the large country to try and reinforce their ailing units. Reports also indicate the Changeling air forces air superiority continues as Equestrian fighters still continue to focus o fending off bombers from important industrial locations. Meanwhile, the Equestrian navy continues to find troubles in countering Changeling U-Boats and continues to try and escort supply ships to the important coastal city of Las Pegasus where many supplies from Manehatten, Fillydelphia, and Baltimare find their way to be easily transported to the slowly collapsing front lines
He didn’t bother reading on, he knew it’d most likely just be all bad news and the last he needed was to chicken himself out by hearing how bad it was there, he’d already known it wouldn’t be pretty but it wasn’t like things were much prettier anywhere else or even at home really and anyone could have seen what was happening coming. The changelings had been industrializing and militarizing for years while the ponies had always sorely lacked in the ways of war and they were paying for it with land and blood, but surely not all was lost so quickly as the war had only been going for a mere month and a half and while the changelings gain might be big, Equestria was, by all means, a large and resilient country full of a stubborn people whose only real hated enemy was most likely the very bugs they fought now… that wasn’t to say that they didn’t need all the help they could get before the war starting to swing real bad for them. Heart put the paper down on the bench and stood up, a sense of pride swelling in his chest as he thought of doing what a noble grif does: help others in need when they’re in danger and that was precisely what he was doing.
And after a moment, this pride subsided and he remembered why he was being “noble” then reminded himself being “noble” was bullshit anyway, made up ages ago to probably justify some leaders horrible deeds to themselves and others. Lofty ideals of hope and pride had hardly gotten anyone anywhere and he made sure to remind himself of that as he put the paper in his coat and continued his walk towards the center of town where the main governmental offices were and hopefully his ticket from a hellhole to a warzone awaited.
Only now did he truly consider if that trade-off would be worth it in the end.
***
Only a week later and Heartfeather found himself on an old convoy ship starring over the side of the old, rusting ship looking into the dark blue waters of Weter Harbor. Having never been on any sort of ship before, the gentle rolling sensation from the rolling water felt strange but calming to him in the early dawn of the rising sun. It felt as if time had been on fast forward ever since he walked into the government's military affairs office and offered his service
It had been much easier to get here than he thought it would be, having been accepted quickly under his alias Browntail with a fine record as a frontiersgrif who followed orders and was a good shot, with him officially being on garrison duty on the furthest reaches of the colony along with the few thousand other grifs who had been accepted into the Weter Volunteer Rifle Division. He’d be given a short questioning, had his accuracy and physical ability tested to make he really was worth sending, had his mental health checked by some fancy doctor from the university and then finally cleared for it and then stuck in some barracks on the edge of the city, where they’d been given a fairly basic briefing giving them not much information, until last night.
As this whole idea had to be somewhat secret and not too obvious, no press had talked about this nor had any grand parade been organized for a send-off as was normal of griffions going off to fight, to the suregrin of a few glory seekers. They had even loaded onto the ship he now stood on at night in civilian clothing with all of their weapons and equipment being stored in the hull until they were out to sea. Apparently, they were meant to be the first ones to arrive, the rest of their unit following in the coming weeks to try and make the ships not seem like an obvious convoy bound for Equestria.
From the shore, no one paid attention to the old merchant ship moored far out in the water: no crowds waving them off, no sweethearts crying goodbye, no military band playing the ship off as they went away to another noble fight in the name of the gods or their emperor like the stories said it should be. Just calm water, a lazy day, some damn birds squawking about and a run-down ship full of guns, supplies and griffion militia, half of whom probably didn’t even like ponies much.
The ship's crew stirred about, beginning their daily routines of eating, chatting and preparing to sail the potential month-long journey ahead of them to wherever the ship was to land, something hardly anyone on the ship knew. As they did, so did the soldiers sleeping inside the hull, coming topside to get some fresh air after being cramped inside most of the night and soon, plenty had joined Heart by the rail looking back to their native land.
It wasn’t long after the sun had risen fully that a loud whistle went off and voices shouted out that they were making ready to set sail. More and more continued to look over as the old rust buckets engines came to life and she was cast off. Most, including Heart, wondered how long until they saw it once again, if ever.
“I come back a hero or don’t come back at all I reckon.” He thought as the ship slowly began to drift into the open waters, passing the big navy ships that seemed to watch them go. Aside from more squawking gulls seemingly following them and the sailors who were used to the sight of leaving, the deck packed full of soldiers was quiet and it seemed it would stay that way for the whole damn trip.
Author's Note
If you have any critique or suggestions, please feel free to politely say them in the comments
