Fires in Severyana

“There is a crackle of thunder as shivering soldiers stood in a line. Around them, other soldiers chatted happily as they waited for breakfast, their officers not worrying about strict regulations. But, for the unfortunate fools of the 6th company, they were under the command of Captain Verbose Maxim: a stalwart unicorn stallion with a blue coat and a dark purple mane, demanding the utmost taciturn composure. He is the one we shall be following in this story.

As his troops shivered, a moderate drizzle began, and Maxim did not take this chance for granted. As other companies were called inside for breakfast, he began to speak loudly, “Soldiers, do you see your compatriots around you?” His soldiers resisted the urge to look around, fearing punishment.

“Good, good,” Maxim said, with a small smile upon his face. “Your indolent compatriots enjoy a lax military career—” Before he could finish, he was interrupted by a Colonel, who was clad in a well-maintained work uniform.

“Maxim, may I have you for a moment?” he said in a stern voice that didn’t really mean “May I?”

“Yes, sir,” Maxim replied, quickly trotting over to the higher-ranked officer. Once he was a little ways from his troops, the Colonel began, in a Canterlotian accent, “Verbose, you mustn’t put down the other rank-and-file soldiers! I have told you before and I shan’t tell you again!”

“But sir—” Maxim tried to chime in, but he was interrupted.

“I find it quite humorous, Verbose, that you emphasize all of this ‘proper military conduct’ yet you yourself cannot even follow a simple damn order! If I see you mistreating your troops, or putting down other companies again, I will penalize you,” the Colonel stated.

As these words were said, out of eyesight, a Corporal slyly smiled, happy to see the worst upon the hated Captain. All Maxim could do was lower his head and say, “Yes, sir.”

The Colonel puffed, “Good, now get out of my sight!” Maxim dashed back to his troops before he commanded them to stand at rest. When he looked back at the Colonel, he was met with a fiery gaze. Maxim sighed and stated, “Soldiers, form a single-file line for breakfast, fall out!” They didn’t respond, since they knew they were in the presence of Colonel Neighers; they began to casually chat and walk to breakfast, showing every chance to display malevolence towards their hated superior.

As the troops entered the chow-hall, Maxim remained outside. He could’ve gone in, but he was still fuming at his chastisement from the Colonel. He stomped at a newly formed puddle, splashing dirty water onto his once-clean uniform, which made him feel a little better, albeit not much.

All he wanted was simple: soldiers that were well trained, devoted to their service, and most importantly, healthy. Everypony in the Vanhoover garrison had seemed to put on a few pounds since arriving. Maxim avoided that fate by working out with the little equipment he had, his own body-weight.

The rain began to pick up, and the thunder started crackling increasingly. Maxim sighed, “I suppose I should eat something,” he said. His old, worn uniform was already becoming quite wet from the rainfall. Ever since he had become known for his... ‘behavior,’ he had a rather hard time acquiring anything more than a needle and a thread, sometimes not even the right thread! (On his left flank of his green uniform was a red patch.)

Maxim entered from the pouring rain into the canteen, nearly soaked. The rain made him feel much, much better. He had a preference for harsh conditions, and the weather in Vanhoover during the spring could certainly be called harsh. The chow-hall was already quickly settling down, as most soldiers and officers had already begun eating. As Maxim quickly walked up to the chow-line, he examined the trays that other ponies had gotten. For the enlisted, he saw a rather tasteless-looking gruel, with some fresh vegetables and fruit. But for the officers, he beheld the pie and savory pastries, but he also saw more common vegetables as well, usually with a cup of steaming tea beside it.

For Maxim, his remaining choices were an apple, some remaining stew, and a couple of older vegetables, which were the last pick left. He grabbed what he could fit onto his tray and found himself a seat in a more secluded part of the chow-hall. Although at this time, “secluded” meant only a chair or two away from another pony.

As he enjoyed his rather pitiful meal, an admin officer, named Fleeting Pen, with whom he had been rather amicable, trotted up to him. “Maxim, may I talk to you?”

“Sure,” he replied, motioning to the seat in front of him. The officer sat down and pulled out a letter from his saddlebag. “I got this earlier this morning, it’s from higher-up, and I figured I’d take it directly to you.”

Maxim grew worried, “Am I being dismissed?”

“I don’t know, but I figure we shall find out!” Pen responded in a worried voice, yet with a hint of exhilaration. Maxim quickly opened the letter and stared quite intensely at the small letters, but to no avail. He shyly looked up with a quaint smile, “Can you read this for me? The letters are too small…”

“You still can’t read well?” Pen worriedly asked.

“I have no time! I am too busy commanding troops or pushing paperwork,” Maxim responded.

"I know, but you cannot just put these things off forever. If you ever…” Pen halted his speech as he read the letter.

“What is it?” Maxim questioned, but he got no answer. So he asked again, in a much harsher and commanding tone, “What is it!?”

After another few tense moments, Pen responded: “You’re being transferred to the Princessyn Garrison in Severyana and promoted to Colonel. You need to be in Severyana in two weeks,” he stammered out.

Maxim gasped in shock, “What? Why?”

To this, Pen looked up and stared at him. “You are hated by nearly everypony here. In every garrison, you cannot help bashing heads with everyone you encounter that you might disagree with. In all honesty, now that I think about it, this shouldn’t be surprising to either of us. Most ponies really don’t like you,” he stated.

Maxim sat there for a moment before replying, “Yes, I know. I don’t intend to be nice to fools,” he said crassly.

Pen huffed, “You’re the fool, how can’t you see that?” and with that frustrated insult, Pen stood up and left, leaving the letter behind.

This was a scene Maxim had repeated before, and would probably repeat later. To him, most ponies wanting to be his friend would usually fall out with him. At this point, he had become quite emotionless to such things. So, he simply tucked away the letter into his aged saddlebags, and went back to eating, getting a mental list prepared before packing for Severyana.

Two weeks later...

Tonight, he needed to meet with the XO. He would be promoted to Colonel by command of the CO. His uniform was in tip-top shape. All he had to do was not mess up the ceremony, which wouldn't be too hard.

"Always good to double-check before you go," he reminded himself as he looked over his uniform. Nothing was wrong with his clothing, fortunately—well, except his tie. The standard uniform for a proper military tie was black. He preferred a green tie with his uniform, although he was swayable to a brown tie. Both of these he kept secure in a garment bag. He didn’t want them getting ruined; that would be a tragedy!

Before he left, he peeked back into his garment bag. "Should I wear a different tie? I doubt hardly anypony would care," he debated in his mind. Another thought arose, "Yes, but I would notice. And that alone is too many!"

"And? You don't always have to look perfect. Just look good, and nopony will care!"

"It's about the principle! If I want to set a good example for my soldiers, I can't allow myself any deviation from the rules."

That settled it. He was going to stick with his black tie. He needed to leave now anyway. As he walked towards the event hall, the evening sun was giving its final rays upon setting under the horizon. This little bit of light was quite useful to Maxim since Vanhoover high command had yet to schedule streetlights to be built. However, the dim lighting made him take a wrong turn or two.

Once he found his way to the event hall, he made his way inside via two of the many large iron doors. He pushed open the rusted metal doors, which squeaked from age and wear. Inside, he saw only three ponies standing in the poorly lit room.

“Welcome, Captain Verbose Maxim,” the XO coldly greeted him. “I could only get one pony to come, but I need two witnesses. Alright, let us get this over with.” The XO didn’t stutter. He had forged the other signature. With that, he gestured Maxim to come closer.

Although he wasn’t quite sure of the situation at hoof, he nevertheless stepped towards the small group. He saw Pen, with whom he was in troubled waters, standing near the XO. When he saw Maxim, he took a step towards the XO. Maxim saw this as an intentional jest by Pen and maybe the XO as well.

“Captain Verbose Maxim, by the authority given to me by Princess Celestia, I hereby promote you, under instructions of the Commanding Officer, to the rank of Colonel. Congratulations,” the XO said, hoofing him a manila folder.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Open up the damn folder and you’ll find out. I’ve got more important things to do, and everypony else wants to go to bed. Understand?” asked the XO quite bitterly.

"Yes, sir," Maxim spat out as he grabbed the folder and tucked it into his saddlebags before he turned around and left the building. He didn't know if he was supposed to stay or not. But nopony said anything as he was leaving. When he got out, the sun had completely fallen below the horizon, leaving him near blind, with the only light source being faint indoor lights shining outwards.

"How long have I been stationed here again?" Maxim wondered as he stumbled around the dark base. "Three months, I think? That's a record," he grimly remarked. Each redeployment was happening faster and faster. "Will it take them thirty days... No... Maybe forty days to redeploy me."

As he stumbled around in the darkness, since his eyes were having trouble adjusting to the low light level, he finally saw a familiar barracks. "Home at last!" he said quietly as he pushed open the front door. Within thirty minutes, he was asleep.

12 days later

Maxim looked at the Vanhooverin garrison beginning to vanish in the distance as the cab he was in pulled away. All of his uniforms, documents, and gear were stowed right by him in the wagon. He felt a twinge of sadness leaving this place. The weather was miserable, the staff and enlisted hated him, and overall, he should’ve hated it, but, for whatever reason, he didn’t.

“Oh well,” he thought to himself, “At least I’ve been promoted! What good that’ll do, I don’t know…”

He had read up a little bit on Severyana, a region he had barely known about almost two weeks ago. It was a poverty-stricken, corrupt, and forgotten region in Equestria. This all in all wasn’t too terrible. He had been a strike-breaker, for Celestia’s sake! "If I could survive in the Manehatten coal mines as a foal, I can survive this," he remarked quietly.

What did worry him, however, were the newspapers. In essence, anything about the military in the area would be called a debacle. “Where the hay are they sending me?” he murmured to himself as the mighty Vanhooverin garrison slipped under a hill. Just yesterday, he had received a letter from command that he was to meet up with a certain “Blazin Glory.” Maxim was fortunate that Pen still reluctantly read letters for him, although Pen would verbally chastise Maxim each time.

Maxim pondered the name in the letter for the third time, “Blazin Glory. What a… unique name,” he muttered derisively. “What good would a pony with such a name be to me?” he asked himself curiously, "Perhaps an infantry officer?"

The cart pulled into the station and stopped abruptly, shaking Maxim out of his thoughts. He grabbed his bags and hopped out.

"The ride will be 5 bits, sir!" the coachstallion exclaimed, tipping his hat with a practiced flourish.

Maxim grimaced at the gesture but quickly corrected his face and sternly muttered, “One moment.” Finally locating his coin pouch, he extracted the necessary five coins and hoofed them over to the coachstallion. With a nod of acknowledgment, the coachstallion trotted away to join the line of taxis awaiting passengers.

After this, Maxim trotted around the train station, eventually finding the ticket booth, which was swarming with ponies. He was forced to stand in a long line. After a long 15-minute wait, he made it to the ticket booth and had his coins prepared.

“One ticket to Princessyn, please,” Maxim stated. The stallion in the booth looked quite bored before he said that.

“Why in Celestia’s name are you heading there? You don’t look like a merchant,” the stallion remarked, and his face immediately turned to one of immense interest.

“I’m stationed there as an officer. Why would I be a merchant?” Maxim asked.

“Ah, an unfortunate posting. That’ll be 40 bits,” the stallion said, ignoring his question. Maxim quickly hoofed him the bits.

“Why does everypony warn me about Severyana? I’ve heard and read negative things about it, of course. But I’ve never heard anything worse than Manehattan.” Maxim was unaware of the increasingly long line forming behind him.

The stallion simply replied, as he hoofed Maxim a ticket, “They aren’t Equestrian, and they still have a Duma. You can’t trust ‘em if you ask me,” he said, before nodding his head for another pony to come up.

As Maxim left the line, he glanced at his ticket. “Track 4,” he mumbled, “departing at 1320... Isn’t that in 9 or 10 minutes?” He checked his hoofwatch, which read 1305. Though he had a few minutes to spare, he preferred to board the train sooner rather than later. He was slightly surprised at his own tardiness.

Once he found Track 4, he trotted up to a stallion wearing a suit and asked, “Where do I board?” The stallion pointed his hoof towards an entrance not even 20 feet away. Embarrassed, he hastily boarded the train. After looking for a while, he realized his “seat” was in a private cabin. Maxim looked back down to his ticket; it didn’t say anything about this. Nor did he buy a luxury ticket. Slightly bewildered at this, he quickly opened the small door leading into the cabin. He went inside, leaving the cramped hallway behind.

The room was small, only able to hold at most four ponies. But it would suffice for him. He took a seat on the left farthermost from the door, right by a cloudy window. From what he knew, this would be a one to two-day journey to the city of Princessyn. All of which, he would need to sit and probably sleep on these seats. Food wasn’t provided for free either, so at stops, he would need to grab food for the journey.

He put a hoof to his face, “Why didn’t I think of bringing food in the first place?” he quietly asked himself, realizing the stupidity of his mistake.

The train horn sounded as it pulled out of the station. Maxim watched outside as the bustling and fairly clean city started to sparse and then abruptly end as he finally left the outskirts of the city. It was going to be a long journey. A tiring one, too. He needed to know who this Blazin Glory fellow was. Was he going to be useful at all?