“Thank you, my dear.” Lavinia spoke softly, smiling warmly as the kitchen porter gently set down the last serving tray on the table. Rain hammered persistently against the glass balcony doors, drowning out any form of reply that she may have received. Despite the coming of the dawn, the day remained overcast and lifeless, almost as if all the colour were being drained out of the world. Mislana was situated directly opposite her, fidgeting nervously in his seat. He tapped his hoof against the floor in quick, fast beats, constantly shifting his gaze around the room.

His sister's temporary quarters were very similar to his own; only slightly more spacious. A four poster bed was situated across from where they sat; the sheets looked as if they hadn’t been touched. An ornate suit of dark blue armour stood its silent vigil in the corner, watching over the siblings in much the same way a gargoyle would. A fantastic splay of white feathers burst out of the helm, which fluttered gently in the draughty castle air. Leant against the wall to one side was an equally impressive sword staff. The dark wooden handle bore intricately carved runes and ancient symbols, giving way to a gleaming moonsilver blade. To the other side, an older set of wingblades rested atop a small table. Wicked, barbed blades splayed out from the metal framework at alternating angles. Mislana shivered as he studied them.

The door swung shut, signalling that the pair were finally alone. Mislana sighed, bringing his eyes back towards the table. Plates of honey roasted locusts, fruit salads, stuffed mushrooms and multiple choices of herbal tea stared back at him. His stomach rumbled, his appetite returning somewhat.

The corners of Lavinia’s muzzle upturned at this, and she fought back a yawn as she poured steaming tea into two glass chalices. The sweet aroma of summer berries caressed against Mislana’s nostrils as he lifted the tea to his face. The hot steam burned against his skin, but he took little notice as he breathed it in.

“I couldn’t help from noticing that you’ve taken a bit of a liking to Moor’ak.” Lavinia grinned, taking small nibbles from one of the stuffed mushroom cups as she reclined lazily in the seat.

Mislana groaned, placing his tea down on the table once more. “Please, don’t.” He replied with a pained, icy tone, leafy ears drooping to the sides of his head. “It doesn’t matter, so just drop it. Alright?”

“Hey, I think it’d be a good match!” Lavinia replied nonchalantly in between mouthfuls. “He’s the heir to Cantermere, so you could certainly do a lot worse.” She winked at Mislana as he squirmed uncomfortably. The stallion was pretending that the bleak view from the window was the most interesting sight in the world instead of meeting her eyes.

Sighing, Lavinia dropped her food, dragging her body back into a more acceptable sitting position. “Hey,” She began, trying to get Mislana’s attention. “Mislana, look at me.”

Mislana slowly turned back around, his sharp features covered with a gloomy scowl. He glared daggers at Lavinia, face slack and emotionless.

“I’m not mum and dad, okay?” She spoke softly, taking one of his hooves in her own. “I know I tease you sometimes, but I just want you to be happy,”

Mislana smiled softly, biting his bottom lip as his glare softened.

“Besides, if you don’t make a move, I might have to.” She winked at him, bouncing her eyebrows with a fang filled smirk. Mislana snorted, a wry smirk finding its way onto his face despite his best efforts.

“A-As if any stallion could make you happy.” He mumbled in reply.

“Very true,” Lavinia acquiesced, inspecting her hooves as she sighed. “I think I intimidate them…” She grinned, flourishing her limb in an uncharacteristically dainty manner as she took another sip of tea. Mislana exhaled through his nose, shaking his mane away from his eyes as sank further into his chair.

“They were good rulers, Mislana, but they were terrible parents,” Lavinia added softly, her previous energy and presence seeming to fade away. She exhaled, seeming to deflate somewhat as she sunk forlornly into her chair, suddenly seeming far older, more fragile. He saw, perhaps for the first time, the lines etched into her face, the dull lethargy in her eyes, and the way her body sank further and further into itself with each passing day.

Mislana frowned, hoof twitching as he struggled with his reply. An uncomfortable silence fell across the siblings, punctuated only by the intermittent bursts of flak in the distance.

“Mislana?” Lavinia finally spoke, a pitiful expression plastered to her face. Mislana finally looked up.

“I’m sorry…” She stuttered, eyes moist and trembling. “I should have… I should’ve told you from the very beginning how bad this world was… how bloody it all could be.'' She swallowed. “I thought by lying to you, that I’d be able to p-protect you, somehow…” She trailed off, wiping her eyes along her fetlock as she exhaled. “I can’t lie to you anymore.” She squared her shoulders, blinking away the last of the tears as she regained some of her former composure.

“No matter what we do, ponies will die”. Lavinia continued, locking eyes with Mislana. “Even if we defeat the Drakes, there'll still be a whole country to rebuild, forests to replant, f-friends to bury…” She shuddered, almost imperceptibly.

“I know…” Mislana replied, taking Lavinia’s hoof in his own. “I’m with you, alright?” He smiled reassuringly at her, unable to think of anything else to say. “We’re all with you.”

She smiled, clasping Mislana’s hoof tightly in her own. “I’m… you’re…” She stuttered, struggling to find the right words. A pause. “I know how much you care, but…” She sniffled, trailing off once again.

Mislana bit his lip, withdrawing slightly. “I know what you’re getting at,” He replied in a flat tone. “We play the cards we’re dealt, right?” He lifted an eyebrow, face hardening. “If I can do something in order to protect those I love, then I’ll do it.”

“Even if it means taking lives?”

He took a deep breath, attempting to release the building tension in his muscles. “I may not have the makings of a soldier, but I was still born in Nys’strova, and I have a duty to protect it. I didn’t expect loyalty to be a clean thing to live by.”

Lavinia blinked, gently letting go of Mislana’s hoof. “I… truly wish I didn’t have to ask this of you.”

“I know… I don’t enjoy the idea of taking lives, but I couldn’t live with myself if I just stood to the side and let someone else fight for me.” Mislana looked up at her with a fragile smile. “It takes strength to protect those you love” He sniffed. “You’ve given me that strength, and I’m by your side, no matter what.”

Lavinia lunged forwards, encasing Mislana within her limbs and wings. She squeezed him tightly, limbs trembling as they held onto one another. She mumbled something in his ears, though the exact content of her words was lost on him.

***

“As of right now, we still have the Equestrian parliament on our side,” Lavinia gestured across the table, wings bristling at her sides. “We’re going to need their armies if we have any chance of surviving this invasion,” She blinked tiredly, forcing down another yawn as she glared out across the room. “We don’t have the numbers for a counter offensive of that manner, let alone the resources to facilitate and maintain such an attack.”
Mislana opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off with an indignant snort from across the table.

“When have those cowardly Equestrians ever stuck their necks on the line for us!?” A Thestral stallion replied, eyes fixed and pointed as he stamped his hoof. “We mean nothing to them apart from acceptable casualties!” He seethed, a small minority of thestrals around him nodding and murmuring in agreement. He puffed his chest out, gaining more confidence as he continued. “The Drakes aren’t even gunning for us, we’re simply in the way of their real goal!”

“They’re our allies…” Lavinia hissed with barely concealed rage, eyes twitching as she stood taller. “It’s our duty to protect them… Ly’synė spent eons alone, facing countless nightmares, alone! In order to protect those who couldn’t do so themselves! We suffer to uphold her legacy. We give our lives, our blood, to uphold our promise to her! I won’t be the coward who breaks faith with her, or her sister! Not today!” Her voice cracked as she verged on shouting, limbs trembling as she leant forwards intently. “You are a coward, Fosse.” She spat vehemently. “You really are. I won’t let you waste our peoples’ precious lives on fruitless posturing!”

“Ly’synė has been gone for a millennia! And I don’t see the Equestrians with us today either…” Fosse bristled, casting a side eye towards Amber Dawn. The Pegasus stood to the side of Lavinia, jaw clenched tightly shut as he gazed coolly in Fosse’s direction. “You talk of sacrifice, of blood and suffering… but do you even understand half of the pretentious nonsense you absentmindedly spout? Let alone put your own body on the line to uphold your precious Cy’lysė’s principles!?” He squared his shoulders, holding a piercing glare on the mare, as if getting ready for a physical confrontation. Lavinia winced at his last comment, her poker face slipping into a slight frown. “They don’t care about what happens to us. They never have. I…” Fosse shuddered, sighing as he pushed his dark mane out of his face “You’ve brought your armies to Cantermere, and they’ve fought bravely alongside my own soldiers. I’ll forever be in your debt for that. However…” He lowered his voice, eyes pinning down Lavinia “I can’t stand idle as the Drakes murder, burn and destroy our people, our forests, our homes… We’re alone, Lavinia. There’s no cards left to play anymore. We need to hit them now, while we’ve still got the capacity to do so.”

“Capacity? What capacity?!” Lavinia snorted, regaining some of her confidence as her eyes narrowed. “We’ve lost nearly fifteen hundred soldiers, either dead or missing already!” The mare seethed, her facial muscles stretched tightly across her jaw. “That’s almost a quarter of my army! Just to stall the Drakes main advance from reaching Cantermere! Another two thousand are already deployed across the border towns and the capital, and we’re losing territory in the western provinces faster than I can keep up with! Just…” she blew out a frustrated breath. “What soldiers exactly do you intend to use for such an attack? Because I’m telling you now, we don’t have any!” She threw her hooves up in the air. “We can barely hold the ground we’re already covering!”

“This arguing isn’t getting us anywhere!” Mislana interrupted, voice breaking as he almost shouted across the table. He flared his wings, puffing his chest out in order to make his body seem larger than it actually was. Fosse opened his mouth to rebuke him, but was stopped by a small tap on the shoulder from Moor’ak. Moor’ak shook his head, the two glaring at one another for multiple seconds, before the older stallion finally relented. He gestured towards Mislana with his hoof, tilting his head in a faux form of respect. Mislana shot a small smile in Moor’ak’s direction, taking a deep breath.

“Thank you…” He began, addressing the room as one whole. Lavinia blinked tiredly at him, collapsing back into her chair with an unsteady nod. “As my sister was saying earlier, we don’t have the numbers to play this aggressively,” He glanced down at Lavinia, worry etched into his face. “Our forces are already stretched thin as it is, and we don’t have the infrastructure to move the supplies we’d need for such an attack. At this current juncture, we simply don’t have the means to put any sort of pressure on the Drakes attack.” His eyes danced over the room, pausing to linger on the seething Fosse before he carried on. “We’ve got a growing problem with refugees coming in from the surrounding towns and villages, so we need to organise transportation further south for these thestrals.” He paused. “The…” He licked his lips, mind pirouetting through burning hoops as he tried to figure out how to correctly voice his thoughts. Eventually, he shook his head with a sigh, deciding on keeping it simple.

“This city will be attacked.” Silence. “The Drakes have been attacking our border garrisons relentlessly for the past month. Two nights ago, we received a telegram from Captain Iskra of the fourth rifles battalion that the Drakes had overran her forces in Windridge, and that she’d ordered a retreat.”

A series of gasps and murmured words spread around the room like ripples across a pond. Mislana grimaced at this response, eyes darting nervously around the assembled crowd. “We’re running out of time!” Mislana stammered louder, trying to regain some form of control over the room. His eyes landed on Moor’ak, who simply stared at him in wide eyed disbelief. “If- If we can halt their advance here, it’ll buy us some time for the Equestrian forces to arrive!” He spread his hooves out towards the crowd, attempting to wrangle back their quickly disintegrating attention.

“They wouldn’t dare attack Cantermere!” A mare spoke up to the murmuring agreement of those surrounding her.

“We’ve got to leave now!”

“Where are the Equestrians!?”

“Should we negotiate?”

Mislana swore under his breath, turning to Lavinia for support. The mare was staring directly through him, her eyes thin and wide as dinner plates. He squeaked under his breath, heartbeat raising as the claws of panic sunk deep. He looked out at the other Thestrals, desperately searching for some support within the sea of panicked voices.

“If I might interject,” Amber Dawn speaks up, “my fellow Equestrians are here, with you. The break-through train was able to make it through the corridor into the station last night, and deposited the newly formed One-Twenty-Second Irregulars out of Seaddle. It also offloaded food, water, and medical supplies.” He then looks to Mislana, “We also evacuated civilians on that same train, and though the telegraph service is spotty at best, suspect at worst, we did receive word shortly before this meeting that the train made it to safety.”

Mislana smiled, letting out a shaky breath as he mouthed a silent thankyou towards Amber. “The Equestrian reservist forces are helping secure our flanks while we continue to mobilise the full extent of our military.” He paused, swallowing a bitter lump in his throat. “It’s not ideal, but the best chance we have is in holding our ground. The Drakes have the numbers advantage, true, but we can even the odds a little more to our favour if we can hold them here.” He placed his hoof down on the table, hovering over where Cantermere was situated on the map. “There’s a natural bottleneck in the terrain, see?” He gestured to the surrounding terrain, those around the table craning their necks to see. “The Drakes will have no choice but to pass through Cantermere in order to continue onto Nys’strova and the rest of Equestria”

He stood back, raising his head above the crowd. “We could, in theory, relocate ourselves further south to Ly’synia, but this would leave Equestrian cities open to attack.'' Mislana empathised, glancing around the room as he gauged the responses he was receiving. “So that's not an option. “We need to protect our people. All of our people.”

Nobody spoke for several moments. Mislana blinked, glancing from Lavinia to Amber Dawn. His sister looked back at him with an unsteady gaze, though he could swear he saw her smile in approval. Finally, Fosse cleared his throat, addressing the room.

“How long will it take the Equestrian irregulars to arrive in Cantermere?” He spoke clearly, looking hesitant towards Amber Dawn. He glanced at Lavinia, narrowing his eyes curiously as she sat slumped back in her chair, a vacant look painted across her face.

“Two, maybe three days at most,” Amber Dawn replied. “Depending on the layover time in Ly’synia, they’ll be here within the week.”

Fosse nodded slowly, simmering down considerably. “Alright…” He began, blowing air out of his nostrils. “Mislana?”

Mislana jolted, turning back to face the older stallion. He eyed Moor’ak standing just behind Fosse, who shot him a reassuring hoof pump. “Yes?” He asked, holding his hoof flat against the floor in order to stop himself from fidgeting.

Fosse sighed, his chest deflating somewhat as his face slackened. “How… how can I be of assistance?”

***

The steady sounds of hooves against dirt was all that greeted Mislana’s ears. He readjusted the heavy saddlebags along his flanks, walking slowly and with purpose. His military issue cloak flapped in the stiff wind, and he shivered as he gathered it closer to his body in a futile attempt to stave away the biting morning chill. The world had this rich, pastel texture to it, and the faint aroma of pine needles lingered in the air. He glanced behind their column, taking one last look at the fading walls of Cantermere in the distance. A smattering of heads poked above the battlements, watching silently as they marched onwards. Some cheered, some waved small flags, but the majority watched the mass exodus in tense silence.
He glanced across his side, flashing a nervous smile at Lavinia as she trudged alongside him. Her white fetlocks were already speckled with mud, hooves digging into the waterlogged soil with each step forwards. She narrowed her eyes at Mislana, a meagre suggestion of tension flickering across her face, but said nothing, eyes fixed dead ahead. Up ahead, more columns of Ly’synian soldiers, alongside Cantermere’s forces, tracked dutifully north into the Nys’strovan countryside. Mislana found himself momentarily awe struck at the spectacle of it all.

Thousands of Thestrals marched in thick, ever shifting columns. Hundreds of prismatic battle emblems rose high into the sky, scraping against the sepia horizon with blazing colours rivalling the sun itself. Multiple bodies streaked in between the separate groups, delivering relevant messages and orders to the different commanders present. Somewhere in the distance, a snare drum was being played in a steady, heartbeat thromb, falling in line with the persistent fall of hooves. The dark blue armour of the Nys’stralla stood out sharply against the lush greens and rich browns that coloured the surrounding pastures. From his vantage point in the rear, they looked very similar to lines of ants in a colony.

Mislana blew out a long breath, shaking his head as he tried focussing on the coming days. Up ahead, a stray cat strode along the grassy verge, in the opposite direction to the marching Thestrals. It had something in its mouth. A songbird. It was still alive, beautiful wings fanned and flopping. He narrowed his eyes as the cat sauntered by him calmly, watching with morbid interest it crawled underneath a wagon. The bird squawked, pleading and praying, but the cat would not listen. Mislana trained his eyes dead ahead.

Summer was over.

Author's Note

https://youtu.be/92SXD-UZ7Ss