A Home, Rebuiltby The AncestorChaptersStragglersHarsh News, Harsher WeatherPromising BeginningsStragglersYou awake with a head-splitting migraine, the chilling wind singing in your ears. What little heat still remains slowly seeps out of your body as the crystalline pavement beneath you leeches onto you like a changeling. The City is deathly quiet, the atmosphere hauntingly similar to that of Sombra's tyrannical reign. As memories flash through your mind's eye, you shake off the cobwebs clouding your consciousness. Screams of fear and anguish, drowned out by the roaring magic somewhere far above. You are Captain of the Crystal Guard, the best and only remaining opposition to The Tyrant King's rule. Your eyes narrow as a sound reaches your ears, hoofsteps echo across the barren streets, a gaggle of guards galloping towards you, eyes wide, they stand at rapt attention. "Iron Hoof, Sir! Thank heavens you made it!" An earth pony mare, her amber coat peppered with shards of crystal and snow, salutes you. "We've scouted the city in search of survivors and gathered what precious few we found in the Castle, or what remained of it, anyway." A weak smile graces her lips. "Come, Captain, they'll be glad to see a friendly face." Your wings flare out defensively as the mare takes a step forward, halting at your intimidating display. "And what of Sombra? The Princesses?" Your voice is coarse, each word sending jolts of pain through your dry throat. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of them, sir." Her words are careful enough for you to lower your guard. The news, coupled with the worsening weather sends a shiver down your spine. A beige coated unicorn stallion steps forward, large goggles strapped to his winter hat convey his status as an engineer, one of the few that remained. "There's no trace of either of their magical signatures, Sir. Truth be told, we're not picking up any signatures, save for a few weak ones scattered beyond city limits." You frown. The whole situation is greatly off-putting, and yet, you have little time to think as a violent gust of wind showers everypony with icy shards, snowflakes dancing feverishly in the wind. "We must hurry, the wind is picking up!" The earth pony urges, gesturing to the others to move forward. Casting a final look beyond the city limits, you follow her words, and the group, deeper into the city. Grief and anger mix in the pit of your stomach as you trot through the empty city. Once shining and beautiful, the intricate architecture lays shattered, each house you pass suffering either from a roof caving in, or some other structural collapse. Worryingly, some buildings appear to be cinched, black spots peppered along the crystalline wood. "What happened here?" You wonder aloud, not really expecting an answer at the moment. "At this moment, we can only guess, sir." Snowdrift replies, the unicorn’s breath visible in the surrounding cold. "Battle damage is the most likely cause." Your eyes drift over remains of a house, nothing but charred planks and long dead embers. The sight makes you scoff. “Approximately, half the city is beyond repair, I can’t be any more certain at the moment.” “Celestia’s as subtle as an avalanche. We’re lucky we have a City.” Shining Dawn comments, shivering as the howling wind ruffles her mane. “Not that I’d refuse the warmth of her Sun right now...” “I’ve seen her reduce Sombra’s fortifications to molten crystal in a blink of an eye. You’d do well to keep guard around her.” You remark, slowly approaching the central castle, or what remained of it. Dark crystals jut out of the otherwise pristine surface of the building, fresh snow slowly gathering in the crevasses. What windows are visible show nothing but darkness, the large balcony rapidly filling with snow, the doorway no longer visible. Once opulent and imposing, the castle is nothing but a monument to equine hubris. Silence reigns over the group as you take in the sights. Below the castle dozens upon dozens of tents are visible, ponies huddling around hastily lit fire pits, smoke trailing into the cloudy sky. Slowly but surely they notice your approach, cheer spreading through the crowd as you draw closer. The sight of so many ponies together warms your heart. You squint in an attempt to discern a single silhouette racing towards you, his chestnut mane distinguishing him from the average crystal pony. “Iron Hoof? Lucky bastard, you made it!” The stallion’s pine green coat is barely visible under his clothes, yet you instantly recognise him. “How could I not? Can’t leave everything up to you, eh, Pierce?” Snowpiercer chuckles as you shake hooves. Your second in command motions for you and the engineers to follow him. “Never in a million years. I’ve got one hell of a headache as is, can’t imagine it’d get any better if I was left in charge.” His attitude shifts to a more serious one as you reach a temporary command tent, a small metal furnace barely containing the cold from ravaging the tent’s insides. “We’ve got the city map set up for you, Hoof. The tents we currently have are plenty to house our people, but they won’t last for long if the temperature drops. Same goes for the braziers, I can’t say how long our coal supplies will last at this rate.” You furrow your brows. Things are dire, but it’s not like you expected otherwise. “Has anypony fallen ill yet?” “Not yet, thank the stars, but our luck won’t last forever. Not in this weather.” Snowpiercer glances behind you, somewhere far out in the distance, at the shifting snow tides, slowly but surely approaching the city. “Are any workshops operational?” His expression falls once more. You have a feeling it won’t be the last time such a thing happens today. “Not a single one survived the battle. Either Sombra was intentionally targeting them, or we’re just unlucky. Either way, we don’t have enough materials to erect one right now, we barely srounged enough up for the tents.” “Right. I want temporary gathering posts built near the broken houses. Keep them heated with braziers if possible, but prioritise the tents first. As soon as we have enough material, construct a workshop and order engineers to work on a heating system for our workplaces. Materials are scarce now, make sure they keep that in mind.” “Of course.” Snowpiercer nods as you mark spots on the city map. “I know there are coal deposits nearby. I don’t know in what condition the mines are, but I’m sure some changes to the layout will be needed, so I’m willing to wait. But the longer we remain without a heat source, the worse things will get.” “Sir, if I may?” Shining Dawn approaches you, continuing her speech after you nod. “The castle’s lower levels contain large deposits of coal, wood and other vital resources. I believe Sombra stockpiled them in case of a prolonged siege. If you allow it, my team can scout the castle and pinpoint their exact position. These resources should be enough to hold us over for some time, at the very least, I’d give the ponies a moment to gather their wits.” A hint of pain flashes through her features as you raise an eyebrow. “With all due respect, I doubt many ponies would approve of returning to the mines.” “You argue they’d rather freeze?” You huff as she turns away. Shaking your head, you continue. “Fine. I’ll give you the go ahead, just be careful. We can’t afford to lose any more ponies.” “Captain, my team would like to accompany them as well.” Snowdrift steps forward, protective goggles obscuring his eyes. “The town’s library is vast, but I believe the Castle’s library is unmatched by even that of Canterlot. I have an inkling we may find something useful there. It’ll take a little longer to get to the upper floors, but I assure you, it will be worth the trouble.” You mull the conundrum over in your head. On one hoof, you’ll be losing around ten ponies for at least a day, and at the moment, every pony counts. On the other hoof, you really can’t deny that without a major breakthrough of sorts, things are going to get grim real fast. “Very well. Report to me as soon as you’re done, wake me, if need be. Do what you must, and may the stars guide your way.” “Yes sir!” They say in unison, saluting you on their way out. You rub your eyes, the stress slowly mounting as you think about the myriad of things to take into account of the current situation. Will you gather enough coal to keep everypony warm? Will you find enough food? Will Sombra return? Why hasn’t Equestria tried to contact the City? “Hoof, it’s late, you should get some sleep.” There’s concern in Snowpiercer’s voice, one that you brush off without a second thought. “Late? Nonsense. Rest is a luxury we can rarely afford in our situation.” Suddenly, a thought pops into your head. “Speaking of, we’re in an emergency situation, correct?” “Of course, how could I forget!” Snowpiercer facehoofs, rummaging under the table before pulling out a thick journal. “It doesn’t look official, exactly, but it’ll do for now.” He clears his throat, jogging his memory as he begins reciting aloud. “In an emergency situation, the highest remaining authority in The Crystal Empire is given emergency powers, and holds the right to declare any law they see fit, until the crisis draws to a close.” You smile, picking up a fountain pen, putting your, admittedly rusty, calligraphy skills to the test as you stain the cold paper. Emergency Shift Sometimes we have to concentrate on the task at hoof at the cost of everything else, or die. If need be, shifts will be extended for 24 hours. The city must survive. “I can’t believe it!” a mare yells into the dark of the night, stomping her hoof into the snow. “Has the Captain gone mad? Twenty-four hours... Unbelievable!” She feels a wing rest on her back, the sudden warmth melting some of her anger away. “Oh hush, you.” The soothing voice of her husband accompanies her as they walk. “Tough times are upon us, we all must do our part to survive.” The mare sighs. “Still, twenty-four hours?” Her face grows bright red as her husband gives her a peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry love, we’ll pull through. We always do.” By the time the pair arrives, a dozen more ponies are already hard at work taking apart the ruins of a particularly nasty collapse. The house resembles an unfinished construction, more than anything else. The workers seem to be agitated, their hollering prompting the pair to hurry. “You two, quick, help us move this support beam here!” The two rush to aid the gray-maned stallion, grunting with exertion as they heave the heavy piece of lumber to the side. “What’s going on? Why all the commotion?” “We heard a voice from below the rubble, it’s faint, but it’s definitely there! If somepony’s still alive, we have to hurry!” Any possible complaint the mare has evaporates the moment she hears the elder’s words. She nods, pushing herself harder than ever as a faint whisper reaches her ears. “A-anypony? Please... help...” You blink away the blurriness out of your eyes as the map before you slowly shifts into focus. The wastes, tundra, the white desert. The place beyond city limits has many names, yet only one feels ‘good enough’ for you to describe it. The Frostlands. For the past few hours you’ve been studying an old map Snowpiercer managed to save during the battle, highlighting points of interest, charting out travel routes, e.t.c. If not for the howling wind outside and the chilly air inside, you surely would’ve fallen asleep. Your eyes drift towards the empty potbelly stove, its insides dark and cold. You assured Pierce you were warm enough under the heavy coat, and while it took some convincing, the stallion relented. It is for the best, you suppose. After all, your people need the heat more than you. Suddenly, the silence of your tent is interrupted by rapid hoofsteps. “Captain! Ponies stationed at a gathering post rescued a filly from the rubble!” Noticing the worry written clear on your face, he continues. “She’d suffered minor bruises, but is mostly fine. Her parents, unfortunately, didn’t make it.” His voice grows somber as he continues. “Rescuers say her parents covered her when the building collapsed. Despite everything, medical staff insisted she spend the night in the medical tent, just as a precaution.” “I see.” Without another word, you stand up from your seat and approach the stallion, the latter visibly surprised. “Escort me to the tent, please. I wish to see the filly.” “This way, sir.” An eerie silence fills the air of the castle as a group of ponies makes their way through the abandoned halls, the sound of their own hoofsteps the only noise breaking the stillness. It’s been a few hours, the scouts had no problem locating the resources. Now the group’s making their way up a tediously long staircase, their search for the castle’s bastion of knowledge seemingly unending. Shining Dawn holds her breath as she passes an enormous tapestry covering a large portion of a wall, the image depicting an imposing dark stallion sitting on a throne, a bloodied alicorn laying defeated at his hooves. The mare sucks air through her teeth, concentrating on the hallway ahead of her. Most ponies are preoccupied with immediate hardships at the moment, but when things even out, they’ll start asking questions. As loathe as she is to admit it, they hadn’t found Amore’s body yet. It is no matter. The Empress is dead and gone, regardless of rumors, she was far too important to be left alive. Empty hopes, doomed to fall. She mouths a silent prayer to all willing to listen. Give us all strength, but most of all, to Iron Hoof. The stallion’s been acting oddly cold towards her, was he feeling unwell? She didn’t spot anything out of the norm, apart from a mild hypothermia. If only we could have a moment to ourselves. Oh, but a moment... “Over here! I found it!” Shaking off the mesmerizing thoughts, Dawn rushes towards the source of the voice, rounding a corner only to freeze in place at the sight before her. Even during better times, Dawn had little free time to visit this place. Catching a cold was never a challenge in The Empire, which, in turn, meant that medical professionals always had their hooves full. As such, their primary source of medical knowledge were books from the city library, which, while covering quite a grand array of topics, pales in comparison with the vision before her. Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretch as far as the eye can see, the smell of old paper permeating the room. Each section properly labeled, each shelf devoted to a certain topic, this place is a treasure trove to the capable mind, both medically and technically inclined. Perhaps even Snowdrift can learn some new tricks here? Speak of the Discord... “Stars above...” The stallion in question whispers, laboured breaths straining his ribcage as he gasps beside the mare. Before Dawn can ask if they can go back to report their findings, Snowdrift points his hoof at each of the aisles, barking orders. “Each of you, go down every aisle and gather every book regarding local geography and geology, spells and mechanics you see!” The ponies react with a curt nod, rushing along the bookshelves in pairs to fulfill their duties. The mare hears the unicorn humming a soft tune as he methodically levitates books closer, putting some back onto the shelf, and others into his saddlebags. “Shining, are your saddlebags full?” His eyes, still hidden by protective goggles, stare into Dawn’s soul as he sharply turns towards her. Whether or not the intent was deliberate, the action sends a chill down the mare’s spine. “I, err...” She shakes her head, gathering her wits. “No, Drifter, I’m empty.” “Wonderful. Follow me.” Her eyes struggle to follow each book the unicorn grabs and subsequently sorts, Dawn can only imagine the level of concentration one has to possess to multitask with such efficiency. Truth be told, she feels a little jealous, she could use such an ability when treating patients. Then again, you rarely see unicorn doctors. Perhaps there’s a tradeoff of sorts? Dawn shakes her head. There she goes daydreaming again. Perhaps a conversation will help her concentrate. “What are we looking for, exactly? Besides books, I mean.” “Why do you think we’re looking for something other than books?” Dawn rolls her eyes. The stallion was a brilliant engineer, but sometimes he was quite obnoxious. “Drifter, I’m not an idiot. Those colts and fillies you sent are more than capable of gathering some dusty old books. You are looking for something else.” “Hmpf.” Dawn can feel the cocky smile on his lips. The stallion, his back still turned to her, continues. “I’m looking for something that’ll save this City. Something a colleague of mine had been working on for quite a while before Sombra’s rise to power.” “Sheesh, can you be any more vague? MIght as well be looking for an alicorn potion...” The stallion flicks his tail from side to side in irritation. “My colleague was a secretive fellow, introverted to a fault even before the takeover. Despite our friendship, he refused to share his inventions with me, claiming he’d only show the schematics when they were ‘perfect’. The last time we spoke was during the Coup...” The stallion sighs, although whether in sadness or irritation, Dawn cannot tell. “His last message was to visit his favourite spot in the library when milder times come around.” “Huh. Can’t say things are milder than before... But at least Sombra’s gone.” Dawn chewed on the inside of her cheek, wondering if it was her place to ask. “Your friend, is he...” “He fled into the frostlands. Wanted to warn The Equestrians, call for help.” An odd sound escapes him, a chuckle with no mirth behind it. “Judging by their swiftness, he didn’t make it to Winterfort. They were always slackers when it came to beacon maintenance.” “You blame the Equestrians for what happened?” The stallion stops at the question, turning to look at Dawn, a glint of anger visible in his eyes, despite the goggles. “And you don’t? Had they been a little faster, many deaths could’ve been avoided. The Diarchy move the Sun and Moon, yet it took them months to approve a military intervention.” “You can’t blame them. Sombra was one of us at some point, if anypony’s responsible for his actions, it should be the ponies that shaped him into who he was.” Dawn squirms under the hateful leer Drifter was giving her. “I do not absolve Us of blame, Dawn. I merely redistribute it in equal measure. A new page in the history of our empire lays open before us, we only need the strength to lift the pen.” The unicorn’s smile gives Dawn the willies. “We will not let another Sombra happen, mark my words.” For some reason, Drifter’s words chill Dawn more than the frost. You nod to the engineer as you exit the medical tent. It’s been a couple hours, but the filly has managed to fall asleep in your grasp. The poor thing practically cried herself to sleep, the events of the past few days too much for her to bear. Despite the tragedy of the situation, a searing question burns your mind. How many more suffered like her? How many had lost their loved ones? And most importantly, what can you do to help them? Snowpiercer’s sudden pat on the back is enough to startle you, it takes all of your resilience to not let an undignified whinny escape your mouth. “Hoof, you feeling well?” The earth pony casts a worried look across your features. “That shouldn’t have startled you.” “Lower your voice, the filly just fell asleep. I’d hate for you to ruin an hour of work.” You hiss, the stallion flinching at your tone. “Of course, Captain, I heard that filly’s been through a lot... May that bastard Sombra rot in hell for what he’s done.” “While I agree with your sentiment, curses won’t remedy the situation.” You settle your thoroughly ruffled feathers, the two of you heading for the Captain’s tent. “Is something the matter?” “Nothing bad, fortunately. Just wanted to report that all of our people are housed, and we’re slowly dismantling the broken houses.” “But?” “We’re running out of people, Hoof. Even if Dawn gets us the supplies, and Drifter finds some wondertech in that castle, it’ll all be useless if we run out of horsepower.” It’s true, a city of hundred ponies cannot sustain itself for long. Soon enough, demand would exceed supply, and there’d be no way to gather adequate resources with such a small workforce. “And what do you propose?” “Our engineers finished drafting beacon schematics, we can start assembling one on your order. As Snowdrifter mentioned, some of our unicorns were detecting weak magical signals out in the frostlands, these signals could very well be our people. I believe scouting the frostlands should be our top priority.” “Very well. Report to me once the beacon is operational, I will be in my tent until then.” As you prepare to leave, Pierce’s hoof grips your withers. “Hoof, get some sleep, will you? You won’t do anypony a favour if you collapse from exhaustion.” You offer your friend a weak smile. “Of course, Peirce. Thank you for your concern.” He doesn’t look convinced as he leaves to deliver your message. You don’t get a wink of sleep that night. Author's Note City of the dead Captain, some of our people survived The Tyrant King's downfall, but many more are buried under the rubble that once was our great city. Ponies understand we have greater things to take care of but they would be satisfied if you allowed them to recover the dead, and give them a proper burial. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten. Hope rises, some workplaces will not operate for the next 24 hours. Miraculous discovery Sir! Under the rubble of an old bakery, ponies found a sole filly, barely clinging to life. Fortunately, she suffered only minor bruises and will recover In due time. Sadly, the same cannot be said for her parents. Some say your haste in developing our city helped save the filly. “A few more hours in this weather, and she’d have been as good as dead.” One of the engineers staffing a medical tent commented. People are inspired by the occasion, some argue we should scour the wrecks for more survivors. We have to save everypony we can. Additional horsepower will be diverted to search and rescue efforts. A quarter of our workforce will not be available for the next 24 hours. Hope rises. We have to save our people Captain, now that the basic commodities are taken care of, we need to scout the frostlands for survivors. Constructing the beacon should be our top priority. Harsh News, Harsher Weather“Captain, can you hear me?” You blink owlishly, the grogginess refusing to dissipate as you fight exhaustion to the bitter end. “Captain? Are you unwell?” The voice is sweet and familiar, offering a comforting warmth you missed as of late. “Hoof!” The harsh sound jolts you awake, slowly blinking the blurryness away, you focus on a familiar face. “Dawn?” You mumble, rubbing your eyes. “Forgive my condition, I must have lost track of time. Do you have something to report?” You squirm under her caring gaze, you have a feeling that the following conversation will veer off-topic rather quickly. “We’ve found what we were looking for...” She frowns, jutting a hoof into your chest. “But you, sir, are in big trouble! When was the last time you slept?” Despite your best efforts, your ears pin to your head. “I, uhm... A day ago? Two days, maybe?” You pray nopony sees you in this state, or else you can kiss your authority goodbye. “You. Me. Cot. Now.” Few circumstances can reduce you to a blushing, mumbling mess in a blink of an eye. Fewer still can do so on a consistent basis. “Excuse me?” That wakes you up. Dawn hurriedly shoves coal into the stove, lighting it after a few fruitless attempts. The look in her eyes warms you more than the fire. “Don’t waste coal, it’s warm enough here.” “Mhm.” She’s not listening. You’re the Captain, and she’s not listening! Her steps are deliberate as she approaches you, grabbing you by the collar of your heavy coat, practically dragging you to your cot. You drop as a sack of potatoes, unsure of the reality of the situation as Dawn snuggles against you. Her warmth seeps through layers of clothes as you unfurl your wings and wrap her in a hug. “I missed you.” You murmur, eyelids growing heavier with every breath. “I’m glad you made it.” Her breath tickles your muzzle, a dreamy look in her eyes. She nuzzles you, and for a moment, everything is right in the world. “I-” The warmth pressed against your lips puts a pause on that train of thought. “Please, stop worrying about things. Just for the night. Please.” You sigh. You never had a choice, did you? “Fine. But I’ll be expecting a detailed report, come morning.” When she speaks, you can hear the giddiness in her voice. “I’m afraid we haven’t the parchment to spare! However, I can give you an oral report, first thing in the morning. Would that please you, Captain?” The two of you stare at each other, red-faced, before erupting into laughter. “You better wash your mouth with soap, you dirty, dirty mare, you.” Her wolfish grin tells you things are far from over. “Do we have a bathhouse available? As soon as we do, you can personally oversee my cleaning~” The two of you continue like this for hours, until sleep finally claims you. Snowdrifter takes a deep breath, steadying the shaking quill in his telekinetic grasp. Steam billows from his nostrils, the dead stove long forgotten in the fervour of his writing. With each moment I devote to understanding this ‘Steam core’ my sorrow grows in exponential measure. In simple words: it’s a marvel of modern engineering. Such exhausting complexity, the graceful collection of wires, the mind-boggling array of runes etched into metal and wood... It’s a work of art. I weep for the loss of a great mind that came up with such an invention. Even a genius like him wouldn’ survive the Frostlands on his own. Machinery that would previously require its own power supply, can now be powered by a device no bigger than one's head! Combined with the computing power of an analytical engine... I believe a new Era is upon ponykind. All we have to do to bring this Era to fruition, is to survive the weather. And yet... I feel ill tidings are upon us. I will order my fellows to check their calculations for errors, perhaps I'll even do so personally. The sheer temperature drop off is... Unbelievable. Surely, we're missing something. In any case, we cannot put faith in our inadequacy. Today, I will relay my findings to the Captain, and propose a solution to our heating problem. It's not an easy solution, but it's the only one we have. His record for the day finished, the stallion takes a deep breath, looking over his shoulder before opening a drawer, magicking a roll up to his lips. The tip of his horn ignited momentarily, carrying the flame to the stick of tobacco, the stallion taking a deep drag. It's a miracle he managed to hide what little tobacco he has from the others. He's not stingy, of course, it's just... Tobacco of this quality would simply go to waste if given to the rabble. With a sigh, the unicorn stands up, each movement causing a crack and a pop. How much time has he spent at his table? He shakes his head. No matter, he still has work to do. Gathering the relevant papers, he walks out of his cabinet, the goal clear in his mind. “Captain! People are gathering at the beacon, it seems they’ve grown restless over the past couple of days. The cold is advancing at a steady pace, and our current heaters just aren’t up to the task. If you don’t address their concerns, I fear some may grow desperate.” The guard’s expression is unreadable, but his voice carries an undertone of worry as you rise from your seat, memories of the lovely night you’ve just heard fresh in your mind. “Very well, lead the way.” You fix the hem of your coat, puffing up the fur hood laying on your neck and shoulders. Gotta look presentable, right? The cold morning air caresses your face like a long lost lover, as rays of morning sun do their best to mitigate the drop in temperature. The few ponies not gathered at the beacon accompany you to your destination, you raise a weak smile in return to their greetings. You almost see the crowd before the building itself, almost a hundred ponies all gathered around the beacon, their eyes glued to you the moment you’re spotted. You straighten your back, accustomed to the heightened attention of others. Ascending the staircase you stand on the beacon’s porch, inadvertently turning it into a makeshift podium. “Citizens of the Empire!” Your booming voice washes over the crowd, silencing the murmurs and hollers of the ponies. You scan over their demanding expressions, embers of hope and anger burning brightly in their eyes. “Many of you have expressed your worriment over the unfolding situation. The drop in temperature, the dilapidation around us, the dwindling resources, all rightful concerns. And yet, despite the circumstances, your voices will not go unheard!” Your hoof hits the wooden porch hard, your words sowing hope into everypony’s hearts. “As we speak, our best and brightest are working tirelessly on developing new measures to combat the cold!" Your wing unfurls, motioning to the beacon behind you. "In the meantime, the bravest among us scout the surrounding frostlands, in search of those still wandering the frozen wastes. When these poor souls are rescued, we will redirect our efforts to contacting Equestrian leadership for help." By now, the crowd's murmurs grow more amicable, their faces still hard, yet their eyes burning with hope. "Though the forecast is stark, we will endure. We will work through each and every hardship, and secure a better future for our children. For the city! For the Empire!" The crowd stampedes in unison, your words finding purchase in the hearts and minds of the populace. Shouts of support follow you down the impromptu podium, the sound repeating in your mind long after you've reached your tent. Despite the apparent success, you can't seem to still your beating heart, the thunderous sound assaulting your eardrums. You've managed to sway the people to your side, this time. Yet their faith, as usual, is fickle. The seeds of discontent are sown, and with each hardship their roots will only strengthen. Next time, you might not be so lucky. "Captain?" Snowdrifter's voice breaks through the isolating heartbeat in your ears, the thin floorboards creaking under his weight. "Can you spare a minute?" "What is it, Pierce?" He stands beside you, depositing a large stack of papers on the table. Before you can glance at the print, he leans on the wooden table, magicking a title page towards the middle of the table, depicting an odd looking rectangular device. "My people were scouting the library when we found this hidden in a secret compartment behind one of the shelves." He hands you the documentation, a lengthy read, by the looks of it. "You can read the full report later, but the gist of it is as follows: This Steam core as we call it, is a powerful source of heat, something we can use to replace bulky heating systems, and develop technologies previously thought impossible. We can't manufacture them as of now, so each one is monumentally precious." You nod, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. "A great boon for our cause, yet I feel you've got some less exciting developments to share with me." "Sharp as ever, Captain." A hastily made spreadsheet makes itself known, calling to you for attention. You scan the jagged lines, the shaky hornwriting, the ever-dropping numbers... "My colleagues and I did some math in our free time, and the results are... troubling, to say the least. If the data we got from the beacon can be trusted, the cold is here to stay, and the situation will only worsen. Our current heating will not be able to sustain the temperature, at this rate." "What can we do to remedy this?" The stallion levitates a blueprint into your grasp, the aura pricking your hooves during the transaction. "The core's inventor wasn't the only one to foresee the hard times ahead of us. Geological surveys indicate The City was built on top of a geothermal spring of some kind, the source of this energy trapped deep underground. If we dig a shaft to gain access to these underground deposits, we can construct a machine to enhance this natural energy, and redistribute heat throughout the city!" His voice was dripping from excitement, yet you couldn't help but frown. "How deep will the shaft be? How many ponies will we have to employ? What resources will we need?" Your eyes scan over the schematics, The Generator written in bold on top of the paper. Even in writing, the machine looked monumental, it would easily tower over a pony, reaching almost halfway towards the top of the castle. "According to my predictions, we'll need all hooves on deck with this one. We'll need a stable source of steel and wood, and a hefty amount of coal to fuel the Generator once construction is finished. It won't be easy, but it is our only hope." You sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Nothing could ever be easy, could it now? "You have my say so to begin construction of The Generator. From now on, you are responsible for overseeing and commanding its construction. Report to me when you need something, or developments of any kind occur. I will supply you to the best of my ability." The engineer offers you a small smile, saluting you as he leaves. "As you wish, Captain." An endless desert of white fills Swift’s entire vision as she scans the horizon in search of a waypoint to orient her group. The windswept arctic landscape is hard to look at, and behind her polarized goggles, Swift’s eyes water. She’s spent hours, days in this Sun-forsaken expanse, her regiment tasked with locating and escorting those who ventured into the frost to seek refuge from the Tyrant King. She clutches her glowworm lamp, the meager heat it provides doing its best to combat the overwhelming cold. She sighs, water vapour crystallizing on the scarf covering her muzzle. Despite the hope in her heart, a part of her fears, the worst has already transpired. Nopony can endure such conditions for more than a few hours, even less without a heat lamp. Swift shakes her head, scattering the wayward thoughts in an attempt to focus on what’s important. She won’t give up until either the lost are rescued, or they’ll find their bodies. “Ma'am!” A familiar voice shakes Swift out of her musings, and she turns to look at a heavily clothed figure, layers of fur and fabric covered by a thin coating of snow. “I think we’ve found somethin’, two klicks to the north, there’s a trail of smoke!” Swift squints, her gaze flickers through the horizon until she sees it too. What looks like an opening to a cave, a weak trail of smoke billowing into the white sky. “The local maps indicate a vast cave network in this region...” She yells over the howling wind, the rest of her regiment hanging on her every word. “Come, we must not dawdle! Somepony may still be alive!” Her subordinates not, hurrying their pace towards the possible sanctuary. The maw of the cave greets them with a soul-wrenching sight, a frail and malnourished stallion gasps as he sees the group, flickers of hope in his eyes as the scouts gallop towards him. “We’re here! We’re still alive!” He shouts, a burst of energy animating his weak frame. “Some of us are sick, we haven’t eaten in days...” One of the scouts rushes to catch the unicorn as his strength fades and his legs buckle. “Will you help us? We won’t make it on our own.” “Of course.” Swift responds, momentarily turning to the rest of the scouts. “Tend to the cold and the wounded, place a heating spell if need be, but conserve your strength.” The unicorns among them nod, following her orders. She turns to address the stallion. “How many of you are here?” “Fifteen foals, and thirty-something adults. Ponies took their foals when we fled from the Empire, most of us are simple workers.” He leans on the mare, barely able to stand. “We’ve had more, but some of the engineers ventured deeper into the caves to look for something to warm us with, they said something about heat from the earth, but I can’t quite remember.” He sighs, a somber look on his face. “Some of us... perished. We-we”ve moved their carcasses outside of the cave, to not make the living sick.” “The Empire’s free of its tyrant, we have food and warmth. The city’s not far from here...” Swift gives the stallion a once-over, before turning to look at the rest of the survivors. All of them are dangerously thin and pale, some have their hooves blackened, a sure sign of frostbite. They won’t make it on their own. It’d be a miracle if half of them survives the journey even with our help. “But we’ll escort you, just to be sure. Gather your people, once I send the report back to the City, we’ll get going.” “Thank you, miss...” “Swift Seeker. Call me Swift. And you are?” “Frostbreaker.” The stallion offers a weak smile. It’s the most beautiful thing Swift’s seen in the past couple of days. The mare’s thankful for the scarf covering her flushed cheeks. “Hear me, hear me! As of today, our Captain commands all technically inclined citizens to report to the workshop on St. Amore street for debriefing! Additionally, all tents within twenty meters of the Castle are to be relocated as soon as possible! To make sure his orders are carried out with appropriate swiftness, all workplace shifts are reduced by two hours today. Your Captain will address you at midnight, please save your questions until then.” Snowpiercer pretends he doesn’t hear the shouts of disgruntled ponies, looks past the angry expressions and hurtful words. He knew what their reaction would be, and the ponies didn’t disappoint. Their jeers mean nothing if they comply. Their admiration isn't worth a bit if we all freeze to death. Steel Hoof’s words ring out in his head, and the stallion finds himself in agreement with Captain’s words. Tough times are upon us, Pierce. Somepony has to make the hard decisions, and live with the outcome. I care not if they hate me for it, for I value their lives more than their opinions. Pierce sighs, muttering obscenities under his breath. “Damn Sobra, and damn this cold.” His ears pick up an odd sound amongst the cacophony of angry voices, that of hope and jubilation. “The scouts, they’ve returned!” One mare hollers. “White Noise! Sister!” Another cries. As more and more ponies flock to the beacon, the hatred in their voice melts away, replaced by relief and joy. Perhaps, not all is lost. Pierce thinks to himself, a weak smile tugging at the corners of his lips.ips. Author's Note A Promise Of Warmth One of the engineers draws you away from the crowd of advisers, his voice but a whisper. "My men were scouting the castle's library when they found a hidden compartment behind one of the shelves." He fishes out and odd looking devise out of his pocket, a glowing hot stone surrounded by a cage of metal and wires you can't make sense of. "The notes called this a Steam Core. One unicorn foresaw the downfall of Sobra's reign and saw fit to develop a technology that would aid in our survival. With it, we can develop advanced building that would normally require additional heat to function, as well as a bulkier heating and power system." His face grows somber. "Unfortunately, the inventor was discovered and had to flee the city with the blueprints, as to not let the technology fall into wrong hooves. I suggest we attempt finding him and the blueprints, no matter the odds." The stallion looks over his shoulder, his whisper conspiratorial. "My men did some math on our off time, and our predictions are... troubling, to say the least. The cold is here to stay, and the situation will only worsen. If you give us the green light, we can begin developing means to warm ourselves, thank the stars, that inventor wasn't the only one to prepare for the coming storm." We have to build the generator Promising BeginningsThe soft jingle of magic fights against the bitter freezing storm, the lilies in its grasp safely shielded from the terrific onslaught. The golden glow intensifies for a moment, before neatly placing the flowers along hundreds of others, their frozen white petals reflecting the glow. Celestia sighs as her eyes scan over the black marble sign. To those who gave their lives in the struggle against the Umbrum Tyrant. May your souls one day see sunlight again. A hollow snort emanates from beside the Sun Princess. "You have something to say, sister?" She doesn't need to turn to see the baleful expression on Luna's features. "Tis' the same thing we say every year, Celestia." Her voice is calm, but from experience, the alabaster alicorn knows this calm will not last. "We do not see the purpose behind Our visit." "It is customary to pay respects to the dead, Luna." Celestia begins with a frown, knowing all too well where this line of conversation will lead them. "They're not dead, it's simply easier for you to think so." An old wound awakes a familiar ache in Celestia's heart, and despite everything, she can't help but bite back. "You think I haven't tried to help them? We both know that all we can do is wait." "No. All you do is wait! Each year we prepare for this pointless pilgrimage, each year We propose a solution, and each moon-forsaken year you deny Us!" Snow crunched under Luna's hoof as the mare dug into the frozen ground. "And each year you condemn these ponies to suffer, and for what? To maintain an air of purity? To keep the status quo?" "Sister! Dark magic is not to be trifled with." The air around Celestia grew hotter for a moment, the snow beneath her hooves melting in an instant. "We both learned that lesson, and paid for it dearly." Her somber tone was noted, and duly ignored. "Nonsense! As any field of magic, one needs to be capable enough to utilize it. Failures of the past were marked by carelessness and ineptitude. Need We remind you of the terrors a simple attraction spell can bring?" All around them, the wind picks up, the encroaching snowdrift repelled only by the sheer heat emanating from Celestia. Neither of them notice. "No. I will not allow it. My answer is final." "We see things for what they are now, Celestia. The reasoning behind your actions. All you wish to do is to trample any ideas We propose, nip any differing opinions in the bud. We-" Luna sighs, shaking her head. "All is pointless. The Council will not listen to Us, hooflickers, the lot of them." Her wings shoot out, the wind lifting The Mare of The Moon without effort. "Sister, please, wait! You don't understand" "This discussion is over, Celestia. Farewell." As The Solarch Diarch watches the other mare disappear into the metallic clouds, she pays no mind to the quickening wind, or the drop in temperature, the lonely postament long forgotten. "Heave lads, ho lads! The production line must be operational before the shaft is dug out!" Auburn Leaves, a hay-maned brigadier in his fifties hollers to his crew, his earth colored coat glistening with sweat. With a final grunt, the ponies on the ground set the support beam in place, one of many to be erected before the building could be called operational. "What's the rush? We've got plenty of coal, and the brazier are plenty warm enough, if you ask me." One of the mares grumbles, wiping sweat off her brow. "That's why you're not Captain, Lumber! You live in the now, when we need to plan for the future! What will you do if the temperature drops tomorrow?" Another worker, a stallion, chastises her. "Idunno, freeze to death? Not like we can last long without the Equestrian's help anyways. Wonder what's taking the scouts so long to reach their town..." "OI, you two, quit slackin and go back to work! We've a schedule to maintain." The two workers growl, but fall in line with the rest of the brigade. Leaves sighs and thanks heavens he's not the one lugging the heavy weights around. Suddenly, a magically amplified voice roars through the workplace, everypony freezing at the sound. All unicorns, proceed to the worksite in short order. Nodding to his second in command, Leaves hurries towards the middle of the city. They better be finished when I'm back, or we'll have to pull an all-nighter on this one. Auburn Leaves shivers, a labored breath escaping his chest. I can't be imagining this. It's getting colder. A few dozen unicorns surround the cleared worksite, a circular shape marking the future generator site. Murmurs plague the gathering crowd, many of them pertaining to the possibility of failure. "Rapid excavation of this scale has never been attempted before. Have we taken into account the possibility of a chain reaction? The whole city could be swallowed by a giant sinkhole!" A mare protests, casting a quick heating spell on the tips of her ears, as a particularly strong gust of wind crashes into the city. "You've got a better idea?" Another one argues. "If things stay as is, we'll be frozen solid in a week's time! Even yaks can't survive below -50 Celcius!" The first mare scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Whatever, but if I'm still breathing under all the rubble, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so'." “Everypony, stay silent. We’ll need all the concentration we can get.” The arguing pair turns sharply towards the voice’s source, ready to give the interrupting fool a piece of their minds. Any complaints they have die in their throats, as their eyes focus on the offending stallion, his eyes hidden by round goggles, the opaque apparatus meant to stave off ice-blindness. “Bicker to your heart’s content after we’re done with construction, have I made myself clear?” Leaves scoffs as he watches Head Overseer Snowdrifter command their combined effort. The lad is half past his twenties, and by the Heart, his ego is rapidly outgrowing him. Sooner or later, somepony’s going to pop that bubble, mark my words. The young stallion clears his throat, a barely visible aura fixing the hem of his heavy winter coat. “Our time grows near, mares and gentlecolts. Our actions today decide our Empire’s future, hundreds of lives depend on our skill and expertise. We’ve trained for weeks, and each of us knows our part. We will. Not. Fail.” Murmurs quell a tad as Head Overseer casts a studying glance over the crowd. Satisfied with the state of his workforce, the stallion continues. “On my word, supporting unicorns are to establish a bond with casters, and provide a constant flow of mana. Casters, on the other hoof, are to proceed according to memorised instructions. The excavated material is to be placed at the appropriate quadrant for extraction of useful materials. Upon completion, all participating unicorns will be given additional food rations, as well as two days off from work.” As he speaks, the glow surrounding his horn intensifies to rival the snow glare. “Now!” Autumn Leaves sucks in a lungful of air through grit teeth, the spell coming to him naturally as his magic merges with the others, an intoxicating flow of mana moving in a single direction. The world around him grows hazy and distant, the loss of feeling in his hooves having nothing to do with the surrounding cold. "Keep'er steady, lads!" He hears himself say, not to anypony in particular. "We're getting closer." Like a ticking timer in his mind, an invisible pressure gauge steadily relaying the information, the stallion feels the moment of truth approaching. Whoever's the caster, they better do a stellar job. One wrong move, and we'll all be under the rubble. The sound is almost deafening. Tons upon tons of rock and crystal displaced in a blink of an eye, the action followed by a soul-searing pull of magic as their collective mana rushes to rejuvenate the casters. Before he can register whether or not the spell worked, the sound of cheering reaches Autumn's ears, the voices tired, but happy. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as the stallion's legs shake, fatigue quickly setting in. Maybe we're not doomed after all. “Captain Hoof!” Your eyes snap to the stallion entering your tent, production graphs and research plans set aside for the time being. "The main shaft has been successfully excavated. As per Autumn's report, the Profiles manufacture is operational and will reach the projected output in 24 hours." Snowdrifter is as reserved as ever, but you feel the enthusiasm oozing off of him. "If everypony sticks to schedule, we'll begin construction of the shaft structure within a day." "I see." You rapp your wingtips against the wooden table, waiting for the unicorn to speak again. "Anything else, Overseer?" "If I may, Captain." A rolled-up piece of parchment floats from his saddlebag onto the table. Unfurling it, you recognise the dates and numbers. "According to our weather report, the temperature will worsen over the course of the following weeks, far beyond our ability to mitigate it. Now, my engineers have presented blueprints for suitably heated bunkhouses and infirmaries, but even those might prove insufficient." Truth be told, you found yourself pondering the same problem the last couple of days. Ever since Dawn brought you the weather report, your faith in finishing the construction in time has been growing weaker. "How much time do we have?" "I allowed myself to extrapolate the data found in Miss Dawn's report. Doing so has led me to believe that the City will become unlivable in two months' time, not accounting for any unpredictable changes in weather. At our current rate, we won't be able to construct the Generator in time." “That is... Most troubling.” You rub the bridge of your nose in irritation. “What are our options?” The unicorn shifts in pace, as if unsure whether or not you will approve of his solution. “We can impose a two-shift system on critical infrastructure, which, while doubling the workforce requirement, will raise our efficiency...” He dozes off for a moment, before resuming. “By about 85%, accounting for accidents and exhaustion caused by overworking.” Noticing the look you’re giving him, Snowdrifter continues. “As for outside help, you better consult Miss Dawn. From what I remember, she should be close to reaching their settlement, Winterfort, was it?” Despite his efforts, you can hear the contempt in his voice at the mention of the Equestrian frontier town. “Indeed. I’ll send somepony once Dawn reports. In the meantime, you may begin developing the two-shift schedule, in case of dire news.” Snowdrifter nods, gathering his notes into the saddlebag. “As you wish, Captain.” As the stallion makes for the exit, you turn to a crystal-powered telegraph sitting on your desk. Tuning to the wavelength of Dawn’s regiment, you type a message with utmost precision, as to not waste any magical charge. Dawn. Winterfort. Report. Pondering for a moment, you add. Urgent. Sending the message, you return to city planning, the hoof-drawn map laid bare before you. The makeshift hothouses will freeze over in a few weeks... They may not like it, but we’ll have to resort to hunting for a while. Your eyes drift over the sketched bunkhouses, their silhouettes outlined in light blue. The living spaces won’t be warm, per se... But they’ll carry us through the worst of the approaching freeze. They’ll be plenty comfortable after that. “Captain? A moment of your time, please?” A guardstallion you can’t quite put a name to steps into your tent, a worried expression on his face. “Go on.” “We’ve found a filly sitting among the graves, the one you-” “Shifting Tides?” “That’s the one, Sir. When we asked what she was doing there, she asked-” The stallion coughs, and you can almost hear the pain in his voice. “She asked if you could call an emergency meeting. Says that her mum and pop will wake back up to attend.” “I see.” You sigh. It’s been a week since you visited the distraught filly, but for all you know, it might as well have been a lifetime ago. “I reckon you took her with you?” He nods, unsure of your answer. “Don’t keep her out in the cold, then. I’ll look after her for the time being.” He manages a smile, saluting you on his way out. “Right away, Sir.” When the tent parts for the second time, you see her. Her navy blue locks flowing down the mint coat of her neck, a heavy coat covering the rest of her. You bury the pang of pain in your heart at the dejected look in her eyes, ones that, for a brief moment, flicker with hope. “Captain?” Her voice is tiny, yet it strikes at your core. “The name’s Hoof, kid. Let’s drop the formalities for now, alright?” She nods timidly, approaching the wooden table as you move the single chair towards her. Crawling on top of the seat, she eyes the table with curiosity. “Is that the map of the city?" You nod, watching the unicorn pick up a pencil, a pale aura gripping it flickering as it moves. "Did you draw it yourself?" "Sure did." The filly looks unsure for a moment, thinking of something to say. A subtle shiver wracking her silhouette makes you acutely aware of the surrounding temperature. "I guess that's why you're a captain, and not a painter..." As soon as the words leave her mouth, the pencil drops to the table, the filly covering her mouth with her hood. "Not like being bad at drawing is bad or anything!" You chuckle, the sound cutting her spiraling short. "Can't say I was ever good at fine arts. Now, my brother? He was a natural." The filly's ears perk up, her attention diverted from the recent faux pass. "Back in kindergarten, there was this group of foals who thought they were better than others, something about being related to royalty." You move towards the stove, its flickering maw roaring to life as you shovel more coal into it. "At first they were more annoying than anything. But over time, they started demanding special treatment. Taking the other foals' porridge, hoarding toys and the like." You take a second seat from your bedside, taking your place at the table. "Were they really better C- Hoof?" You shrug. "Were they better at something? Sure. Each of us is better at doing something than the other. Problem is, they thought they were better, period. And they sure weren't afraid of flaunting that every chance they got." By now, the filly was hanging on your every word. "So my brother decided to challenge that. During arts and crafts, when they started boasting about how better their drawings were compared to the rest, Tender bet that, If he got a higher grade than them, they'd have to keep their mouths shut for a month." "And if he didn't?" "He'd have to do everything they said the entire month." The filly gasps. "That's mean!" "That it is. So, they do their best and present the results, and, can you believe it? They looked worse than that map you saw!" The filly giggles, a soft jingle that fills you with hope. "So the moment of truth comes, and when Tender grabs the brush, which was quite a challenge, mind you, seeing as he was an earth pony, something magical happens." You work your mouth trying to put the memories flashing through your mind's eye into words. "It was like the brush danced across that canvas, his body flowed along a waterway only he could see. For him, drawing was no harder than breathing is for you and me." You take a deep breath, focusing on that moment in time. "When he finished, the most beautiful landscape I've ever laid my eyes on painted that canvas. Pines of the deepest green color stretched into a baby blue sky, the forestry melding with the most colorful of meadows." You smile at the recollection, and beside you, the filly does too. "He got his cutiemark that day, one of the first in our class, too." "So did he win? Did he beat those meanies?" The filly asks, fire in her eyes warming you just as well as the fire stove behind the two of you. "The teacher praised him, but still gave those kids a higher grade. Something about their parents donating to the school's fund." Tides harrumphed, pouting. "That's unfair! Did they make him make true on his bet?" You snort. This filly is far too precious. "Actually, it was Tender who wanted to honor the bet. Said that a word was a word." "Did he do it?" "No." You rub the back of your neck, wondering if you should continue. Might as well finish the story. "My friends and I cornered those bullies, showed them what happens when you don't play fair." You skirt around the more violent side of the events, but you get the notion that Tides understands what you mean. "After that, they stopped bothering the other foals." "You were mean to them too, right?" She frowns, the expression slowly morphing into a more understanding one. "But if that stopped them from being mean... I guess it's alright?" "Ponies can be mean, Tides, but that doesn't mean we have to stoop to their level." You sigh, turning to look at the crackling stove. "Thing is, we can't always be better than the mean ponies, and when that time comes, we need the strength to do what has to be done to protect those we love." A lull in conversation sets in, and in the corner of your eye, you can see a pensive expression on the filly's face. "Where's your brother now, Hoof?" "He went to live in Canterlot a few years back, haven't heard much from him since..." "Since the mean unicorn took over?" "Yeah, since that." A buzzing noise snaps you out of your thoughts, your attention diverting to the telegraph. "Wait a moment, Tide. I'll be right back." Approaching the machine you decode the transmission. Hoof. Found Survivors. Sent them with Swift's squad. Heading For Winterfort. ETA 48 hrs. "Is it something bad?" You hear the filly ask, worry in her tone. "You look sad." "It's nothing, Tides. I'm a little tired, is all." Changing the subject, you continue. "Want to hear how I got my cutiemark?" The filly squeals and begins peppering you with questions as you launch into another story. Yet despite everything, you can't help the growing pit at the bottom of your stomach. Author's Note A Beacon Of Hope We see it, Captain! Out in the distance, an Equestrian outpost is jutting out of the snowy landscape around it. The sight fills our scouts with hope, yet something odd is troubling them. Why is their beacon down? Why had they not sent help? We will find our answers at the outpost. Promising Beginnings With everypony cleared from the excavation zone, the few unicorns we have consolidate their efforts, and the mass of earth and crystal disappears right before your eyes. A seemingly bottomless hole now stands in the middle of the city, right next to the castle. Ponies steel themselves as they gaze into the deep abyss. We have to build the Generator. The weather will get colder. We have to hurry.
StragglersYou awake with a head-splitting migraine, the chilling wind singing in your ears. What little heat still remains slowly seeps out of your body as the crystalline pavement beneath you leeches onto you like a changeling. The City is deathly quiet, the atmosphere hauntingly similar to that of Sombra's tyrannical reign. As memories flash through your mind's eye, you shake off the cobwebs clouding your consciousness. Screams of fear and anguish, drowned out by the roaring magic somewhere far above. You are Captain of the Crystal Guard, the best and only remaining opposition to The Tyrant King's rule. Your eyes narrow as a sound reaches your ears, hoofsteps echo across the barren streets, a gaggle of guards galloping towards you, eyes wide, they stand at rapt attention. "Iron Hoof, Sir! Thank heavens you made it!" An earth pony mare, her amber coat peppered with shards of crystal and snow, salutes you. "We've scouted the city in search of survivors and gathered what precious few we found in the Castle, or what remained of it, anyway." A weak smile graces her lips. "Come, Captain, they'll be glad to see a friendly face." Your wings flare out defensively as the mare takes a step forward, halting at your intimidating display. "And what of Sombra? The Princesses?" Your voice is coarse, each word sending jolts of pain through your dry throat. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of them, sir." Her words are careful enough for you to lower your guard. The news, coupled with the worsening weather sends a shiver down your spine. A beige coated unicorn stallion steps forward, large goggles strapped to his winter hat convey his status as an engineer, one of the few that remained. "There's no trace of either of their magical signatures, Sir. Truth be told, we're not picking up any signatures, save for a few weak ones scattered beyond city limits." You frown. The whole situation is greatly off-putting, and yet, you have little time to think as a violent gust of wind showers everypony with icy shards, snowflakes dancing feverishly in the wind. "We must hurry, the wind is picking up!" The earth pony urges, gesturing to the others to move forward. Casting a final look beyond the city limits, you follow her words, and the group, deeper into the city. Grief and anger mix in the pit of your stomach as you trot through the empty city. Once shining and beautiful, the intricate architecture lays shattered, each house you pass suffering either from a roof caving in, or some other structural collapse. Worryingly, some buildings appear to be cinched, black spots peppered along the crystalline wood. "What happened here?" You wonder aloud, not really expecting an answer at the moment. "At this moment, we can only guess, sir." Snowdrift replies, the unicorn’s breath visible in the surrounding cold. "Battle damage is the most likely cause." Your eyes drift over remains of a house, nothing but charred planks and long dead embers. The sight makes you scoff. “Approximately, half the city is beyond repair, I can’t be any more certain at the moment.” “Celestia’s as subtle as an avalanche. We’re lucky we have a City.” Shining Dawn comments, shivering as the howling wind ruffles her mane. “Not that I’d refuse the warmth of her Sun right now...” “I’ve seen her reduce Sombra’s fortifications to molten crystal in a blink of an eye. You’d do well to keep guard around her.” You remark, slowly approaching the central castle, or what remained of it. Dark crystals jut out of the otherwise pristine surface of the building, fresh snow slowly gathering in the crevasses. What windows are visible show nothing but darkness, the large balcony rapidly filling with snow, the doorway no longer visible. Once opulent and imposing, the castle is nothing but a monument to equine hubris. Silence reigns over the group as you take in the sights. Below the castle dozens upon dozens of tents are visible, ponies huddling around hastily lit fire pits, smoke trailing into the cloudy sky. Slowly but surely they notice your approach, cheer spreading through the crowd as you draw closer. The sight of so many ponies together warms your heart. You squint in an attempt to discern a single silhouette racing towards you, his chestnut mane distinguishing him from the average crystal pony. “Iron Hoof? Lucky bastard, you made it!” The stallion’s pine green coat is barely visible under his clothes, yet you instantly recognise him. “How could I not? Can’t leave everything up to you, eh, Pierce?” Snowpiercer chuckles as you shake hooves. Your second in command motions for you and the engineers to follow him. “Never in a million years. I’ve got one hell of a headache as is, can’t imagine it’d get any better if I was left in charge.” His attitude shifts to a more serious one as you reach a temporary command tent, a small metal furnace barely containing the cold from ravaging the tent’s insides. “We’ve got the city map set up for you, Hoof. The tents we currently have are plenty to house our people, but they won’t last for long if the temperature drops. Same goes for the braziers, I can’t say how long our coal supplies will last at this rate.” You furrow your brows. Things are dire, but it’s not like you expected otherwise. “Has anypony fallen ill yet?” “Not yet, thank the stars, but our luck won’t last forever. Not in this weather.” Snowpiercer glances behind you, somewhere far out in the distance, at the shifting snow tides, slowly but surely approaching the city. “Are any workshops operational?” His expression falls once more. You have a feeling it won’t be the last time such a thing happens today. “Not a single one survived the battle. Either Sombra was intentionally targeting them, or we’re just unlucky. Either way, we don’t have enough materials to erect one right now, we barely srounged enough up for the tents.” “Right. I want temporary gathering posts built near the broken houses. Keep them heated with braziers if possible, but prioritise the tents first. As soon as we have enough material, construct a workshop and order engineers to work on a heating system for our workplaces. Materials are scarce now, make sure they keep that in mind.” “Of course.” Snowpiercer nods as you mark spots on the city map. “I know there are coal deposits nearby. I don’t know in what condition the mines are, but I’m sure some changes to the layout will be needed, so I’m willing to wait. But the longer we remain without a heat source, the worse things will get.” “Sir, if I may?” Shining Dawn approaches you, continuing her speech after you nod. “The castle’s lower levels contain large deposits of coal, wood and other vital resources. I believe Sombra stockpiled them in case of a prolonged siege. If you allow it, my team can scout the castle and pinpoint their exact position. These resources should be enough to hold us over for some time, at the very least, I’d give the ponies a moment to gather their wits.” A hint of pain flashes through her features as you raise an eyebrow. “With all due respect, I doubt many ponies would approve of returning to the mines.” “You argue they’d rather freeze?” You huff as she turns away. Shaking your head, you continue. “Fine. I’ll give you the go ahead, just be careful. We can’t afford to lose any more ponies.” “Captain, my team would like to accompany them as well.” Snowdrift steps forward, protective goggles obscuring his eyes. “The town’s library is vast, but I believe the Castle’s library is unmatched by even that of Canterlot. I have an inkling we may find something useful there. It’ll take a little longer to get to the upper floors, but I assure you, it will be worth the trouble.” You mull the conundrum over in your head. On one hoof, you’ll be losing around ten ponies for at least a day, and at the moment, every pony counts. On the other hoof, you really can’t deny that without a major breakthrough of sorts, things are going to get grim real fast. “Very well. Report to me as soon as you’re done, wake me, if need be. Do what you must, and may the stars guide your way.” “Yes sir!” They say in unison, saluting you on their way out. You rub your eyes, the stress slowly mounting as you think about the myriad of things to take into account of the current situation. Will you gather enough coal to keep everypony warm? Will you find enough food? Will Sombra return? Why hasn’t Equestria tried to contact the City? “Hoof, it’s late, you should get some sleep.” There’s concern in Snowpiercer’s voice, one that you brush off without a second thought. “Late? Nonsense. Rest is a luxury we can rarely afford in our situation.” Suddenly, a thought pops into your head. “Speaking of, we’re in an emergency situation, correct?” “Of course, how could I forget!” Snowpiercer facehoofs, rummaging under the table before pulling out a thick journal. “It doesn’t look official, exactly, but it’ll do for now.” He clears his throat, jogging his memory as he begins reciting aloud. “In an emergency situation, the highest remaining authority in The Crystal Empire is given emergency powers, and holds the right to declare any law they see fit, until the crisis draws to a close.” You smile, picking up a fountain pen, putting your, admittedly rusty, calligraphy skills to the test as you stain the cold paper. Emergency Shift Sometimes we have to concentrate on the task at hoof at the cost of everything else, or die. If need be, shifts will be extended for 24 hours. The city must survive. “I can’t believe it!” a mare yells into the dark of the night, stomping her hoof into the snow. “Has the Captain gone mad? Twenty-four hours... Unbelievable!” She feels a wing rest on her back, the sudden warmth melting some of her anger away. “Oh hush, you.” The soothing voice of her husband accompanies her as they walk. “Tough times are upon us, we all must do our part to survive.” The mare sighs. “Still, twenty-four hours?” Her face grows bright red as her husband gives her a peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry love, we’ll pull through. We always do.” By the time the pair arrives, a dozen more ponies are already hard at work taking apart the ruins of a particularly nasty collapse. The house resembles an unfinished construction, more than anything else. The workers seem to be agitated, their hollering prompting the pair to hurry. “You two, quick, help us move this support beam here!” The two rush to aid the gray-maned stallion, grunting with exertion as they heave the heavy piece of lumber to the side. “What’s going on? Why all the commotion?” “We heard a voice from below the rubble, it’s faint, but it’s definitely there! If somepony’s still alive, we have to hurry!” Any possible complaint the mare has evaporates the moment she hears the elder’s words. She nods, pushing herself harder than ever as a faint whisper reaches her ears. “A-anypony? Please... help...” You blink away the blurriness out of your eyes as the map before you slowly shifts into focus. The wastes, tundra, the white desert. The place beyond city limits has many names, yet only one feels ‘good enough’ for you to describe it. The Frostlands. For the past few hours you’ve been studying an old map Snowpiercer managed to save during the battle, highlighting points of interest, charting out travel routes, e.t.c. If not for the howling wind outside and the chilly air inside, you surely would’ve fallen asleep. Your eyes drift towards the empty potbelly stove, its insides dark and cold. You assured Pierce you were warm enough under the heavy coat, and while it took some convincing, the stallion relented. It is for the best, you suppose. After all, your people need the heat more than you. Suddenly, the silence of your tent is interrupted by rapid hoofsteps. “Captain! Ponies stationed at a gathering post rescued a filly from the rubble!” Noticing the worry written clear on your face, he continues. “She’d suffered minor bruises, but is mostly fine. Her parents, unfortunately, didn’t make it.” His voice grows somber as he continues. “Rescuers say her parents covered her when the building collapsed. Despite everything, medical staff insisted she spend the night in the medical tent, just as a precaution.” “I see.” Without another word, you stand up from your seat and approach the stallion, the latter visibly surprised. “Escort me to the tent, please. I wish to see the filly.” “This way, sir.” An eerie silence fills the air of the castle as a group of ponies makes their way through the abandoned halls, the sound of their own hoofsteps the only noise breaking the stillness. It’s been a few hours, the scouts had no problem locating the resources. Now the group’s making their way up a tediously long staircase, their search for the castle’s bastion of knowledge seemingly unending. Shining Dawn holds her breath as she passes an enormous tapestry covering a large portion of a wall, the image depicting an imposing dark stallion sitting on a throne, a bloodied alicorn laying defeated at his hooves. The mare sucks air through her teeth, concentrating on the hallway ahead of her. Most ponies are preoccupied with immediate hardships at the moment, but when things even out, they’ll start asking questions. As loathe as she is to admit it, they hadn’t found Amore’s body yet. It is no matter. The Empress is dead and gone, regardless of rumors, she was far too important to be left alive. Empty hopes, doomed to fall. She mouths a silent prayer to all willing to listen. Give us all strength, but most of all, to Iron Hoof. The stallion’s been acting oddly cold towards her, was he feeling unwell? She didn’t spot anything out of the norm, apart from a mild hypothermia. If only we could have a moment to ourselves. Oh, but a moment... “Over here! I found it!” Shaking off the mesmerizing thoughts, Dawn rushes towards the source of the voice, rounding a corner only to freeze in place at the sight before her. Even during better times, Dawn had little free time to visit this place. Catching a cold was never a challenge in The Empire, which, in turn, meant that medical professionals always had their hooves full. As such, their primary source of medical knowledge were books from the city library, which, while covering quite a grand array of topics, pales in comparison with the vision before her. Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretch as far as the eye can see, the smell of old paper permeating the room. Each section properly labeled, each shelf devoted to a certain topic, this place is a treasure trove to the capable mind, both medically and technically inclined. Perhaps even Snowdrift can learn some new tricks here? Speak of the Discord... “Stars above...” The stallion in question whispers, laboured breaths straining his ribcage as he gasps beside the mare. Before Dawn can ask if they can go back to report their findings, Snowdrift points his hoof at each of the aisles, barking orders. “Each of you, go down every aisle and gather every book regarding local geography and geology, spells and mechanics you see!” The ponies react with a curt nod, rushing along the bookshelves in pairs to fulfill their duties. The mare hears the unicorn humming a soft tune as he methodically levitates books closer, putting some back onto the shelf, and others into his saddlebags. “Shining, are your saddlebags full?” His eyes, still hidden by protective goggles, stare into Dawn’s soul as he sharply turns towards her. Whether or not the intent was deliberate, the action sends a chill down the mare’s spine. “I, err...” She shakes her head, gathering her wits. “No, Drifter, I’m empty.” “Wonderful. Follow me.” Her eyes struggle to follow each book the unicorn grabs and subsequently sorts, Dawn can only imagine the level of concentration one has to possess to multitask with such efficiency. Truth be told, she feels a little jealous, she could use such an ability when treating patients. Then again, you rarely see unicorn doctors. Perhaps there’s a tradeoff of sorts? Dawn shakes her head. There she goes daydreaming again. Perhaps a conversation will help her concentrate. “What are we looking for, exactly? Besides books, I mean.” “Why do you think we’re looking for something other than books?” Dawn rolls her eyes. The stallion was a brilliant engineer, but sometimes he was quite obnoxious. “Drifter, I’m not an idiot. Those colts and fillies you sent are more than capable of gathering some dusty old books. You are looking for something else.” “Hmpf.” Dawn can feel the cocky smile on his lips. The stallion, his back still turned to her, continues. “I’m looking for something that’ll save this City. Something a colleague of mine had been working on for quite a while before Sombra’s rise to power.” “Sheesh, can you be any more vague? MIght as well be looking for an alicorn potion...” The stallion flicks his tail from side to side in irritation. “My colleague was a secretive fellow, introverted to a fault even before the takeover. Despite our friendship, he refused to share his inventions with me, claiming he’d only show the schematics when they were ‘perfect’. The last time we spoke was during the Coup...” The stallion sighs, although whether in sadness or irritation, Dawn cannot tell. “His last message was to visit his favourite spot in the library when milder times come around.” “Huh. Can’t say things are milder than before... But at least Sombra’s gone.” Dawn chewed on the inside of her cheek, wondering if it was her place to ask. “Your friend, is he...” “He fled into the frostlands. Wanted to warn The Equestrians, call for help.” An odd sound escapes him, a chuckle with no mirth behind it. “Judging by their swiftness, he didn’t make it to Winterfort. They were always slackers when it came to beacon maintenance.” “You blame the Equestrians for what happened?” The stallion stops at the question, turning to look at Dawn, a glint of anger visible in his eyes, despite the goggles. “And you don’t? Had they been a little faster, many deaths could’ve been avoided. The Diarchy move the Sun and Moon, yet it took them months to approve a military intervention.” “You can’t blame them. Sombra was one of us at some point, if anypony’s responsible for his actions, it should be the ponies that shaped him into who he was.” Dawn squirms under the hateful leer Drifter was giving her. “I do not absolve Us of blame, Dawn. I merely redistribute it in equal measure. A new page in the history of our empire lays open before us, we only need the strength to lift the pen.” The unicorn’s smile gives Dawn the willies. “We will not let another Sombra happen, mark my words.” For some reason, Drifter’s words chill Dawn more than the frost. You nod to the engineer as you exit the medical tent. It’s been a couple hours, but the filly has managed to fall asleep in your grasp. The poor thing practically cried herself to sleep, the events of the past few days too much for her to bear. Despite the tragedy of the situation, a searing question burns your mind. How many more suffered like her? How many had lost their loved ones? And most importantly, what can you do to help them? Snowpiercer’s sudden pat on the back is enough to startle you, it takes all of your resilience to not let an undignified whinny escape your mouth. “Hoof, you feeling well?” The earth pony casts a worried look across your features. “That shouldn’t have startled you.” “Lower your voice, the filly just fell asleep. I’d hate for you to ruin an hour of work.” You hiss, the stallion flinching at your tone. “Of course, Captain, I heard that filly’s been through a lot... May that bastard Sombra rot in hell for what he’s done.” “While I agree with your sentiment, curses won’t remedy the situation.” You settle your thoroughly ruffled feathers, the two of you heading for the Captain’s tent. “Is something the matter?” “Nothing bad, fortunately. Just wanted to report that all of our people are housed, and we’re slowly dismantling the broken houses.” “But?” “We’re running out of people, Hoof. Even if Dawn gets us the supplies, and Drifter finds some wondertech in that castle, it’ll all be useless if we run out of horsepower.” It’s true, a city of hundred ponies cannot sustain itself for long. Soon enough, demand would exceed supply, and there’d be no way to gather adequate resources with such a small workforce. “And what do you propose?” “Our engineers finished drafting beacon schematics, we can start assembling one on your order. As Snowdrifter mentioned, some of our unicorns were detecting weak magical signals out in the frostlands, these signals could very well be our people. I believe scouting the frostlands should be our top priority.” “Very well. Report to me once the beacon is operational, I will be in my tent until then.” As you prepare to leave, Pierce’s hoof grips your withers. “Hoof, get some sleep, will you? You won’t do anypony a favour if you collapse from exhaustion.” You offer your friend a weak smile. “Of course, Peirce. Thank you for your concern.” He doesn’t look convinced as he leaves to deliver your message. You don’t get a wink of sleep that night. Author's Note City of the dead Captain, some of our people survived The Tyrant King's downfall, but many more are buried under the rubble that once was our great city. Ponies understand we have greater things to take care of but they would be satisfied if you allowed them to recover the dead, and give them a proper burial. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten. Hope rises, some workplaces will not operate for the next 24 hours. Miraculous discovery Sir! Under the rubble of an old bakery, ponies found a sole filly, barely clinging to life. Fortunately, she suffered only minor bruises and will recover In due time. Sadly, the same cannot be said for her parents. Some say your haste in developing our city helped save the filly. “A few more hours in this weather, and she’d have been as good as dead.” One of the engineers staffing a medical tent commented. People are inspired by the occasion, some argue we should scour the wrecks for more survivors. We have to save everypony we can. Additional horsepower will be diverted to search and rescue efforts. A quarter of our workforce will not be available for the next 24 hours. Hope rises. We have to save our people Captain, now that the basic commodities are taken care of, we need to scout the frostlands for survivors. Constructing the beacon should be our top priority.
Harsh News, Harsher Weather“Captain, can you hear me?” You blink owlishly, the grogginess refusing to dissipate as you fight exhaustion to the bitter end. “Captain? Are you unwell?” The voice is sweet and familiar, offering a comforting warmth you missed as of late. “Hoof!” The harsh sound jolts you awake, slowly blinking the blurryness away, you focus on a familiar face. “Dawn?” You mumble, rubbing your eyes. “Forgive my condition, I must have lost track of time. Do you have something to report?” You squirm under her caring gaze, you have a feeling that the following conversation will veer off-topic rather quickly. “We’ve found what we were looking for...” She frowns, jutting a hoof into your chest. “But you, sir, are in big trouble! When was the last time you slept?” Despite your best efforts, your ears pin to your head. “I, uhm... A day ago? Two days, maybe?” You pray nopony sees you in this state, or else you can kiss your authority goodbye. “You. Me. Cot. Now.” Few circumstances can reduce you to a blushing, mumbling mess in a blink of an eye. Fewer still can do so on a consistent basis. “Excuse me?” That wakes you up. Dawn hurriedly shoves coal into the stove, lighting it after a few fruitless attempts. The look in her eyes warms you more than the fire. “Don’t waste coal, it’s warm enough here.” “Mhm.” She’s not listening. You’re the Captain, and she’s not listening! Her steps are deliberate as she approaches you, grabbing you by the collar of your heavy coat, practically dragging you to your cot. You drop as a sack of potatoes, unsure of the reality of the situation as Dawn snuggles against you. Her warmth seeps through layers of clothes as you unfurl your wings and wrap her in a hug. “I missed you.” You murmur, eyelids growing heavier with every breath. “I’m glad you made it.” Her breath tickles your muzzle, a dreamy look in her eyes. She nuzzles you, and for a moment, everything is right in the world. “I-” The warmth pressed against your lips puts a pause on that train of thought. “Please, stop worrying about things. Just for the night. Please.” You sigh. You never had a choice, did you? “Fine. But I’ll be expecting a detailed report, come morning.” When she speaks, you can hear the giddiness in her voice. “I’m afraid we haven’t the parchment to spare! However, I can give you an oral report, first thing in the morning. Would that please you, Captain?” The two of you stare at each other, red-faced, before erupting into laughter. “You better wash your mouth with soap, you dirty, dirty mare, you.” Her wolfish grin tells you things are far from over. “Do we have a bathhouse available? As soon as we do, you can personally oversee my cleaning~” The two of you continue like this for hours, until sleep finally claims you. Snowdrifter takes a deep breath, steadying the shaking quill in his telekinetic grasp. Steam billows from his nostrils, the dead stove long forgotten in the fervour of his writing. With each moment I devote to understanding this ‘Steam core’ my sorrow grows in exponential measure. In simple words: it’s a marvel of modern engineering. Such exhausting complexity, the graceful collection of wires, the mind-boggling array of runes etched into metal and wood... It’s a work of art. I weep for the loss of a great mind that came up with such an invention. Even a genius like him wouldn’ survive the Frostlands on his own. Machinery that would previously require its own power supply, can now be powered by a device no bigger than one's head! Combined with the computing power of an analytical engine... I believe a new Era is upon ponykind. All we have to do to bring this Era to fruition, is to survive the weather. And yet... I feel ill tidings are upon us. I will order my fellows to check their calculations for errors, perhaps I'll even do so personally. The sheer temperature drop off is... Unbelievable. Surely, we're missing something. In any case, we cannot put faith in our inadequacy. Today, I will relay my findings to the Captain, and propose a solution to our heating problem. It's not an easy solution, but it's the only one we have. His record for the day finished, the stallion takes a deep breath, looking over his shoulder before opening a drawer, magicking a roll up to his lips. The tip of his horn ignited momentarily, carrying the flame to the stick of tobacco, the stallion taking a deep drag. It's a miracle he managed to hide what little tobacco he has from the others. He's not stingy, of course, it's just... Tobacco of this quality would simply go to waste if given to the rabble. With a sigh, the unicorn stands up, each movement causing a crack and a pop. How much time has he spent at his table? He shakes his head. No matter, he still has work to do. Gathering the relevant papers, he walks out of his cabinet, the goal clear in his mind. “Captain! People are gathering at the beacon, it seems they’ve grown restless over the past couple of days. The cold is advancing at a steady pace, and our current heaters just aren’t up to the task. If you don’t address their concerns, I fear some may grow desperate.” The guard’s expression is unreadable, but his voice carries an undertone of worry as you rise from your seat, memories of the lovely night you’ve just heard fresh in your mind. “Very well, lead the way.” You fix the hem of your coat, puffing up the fur hood laying on your neck and shoulders. Gotta look presentable, right? The cold morning air caresses your face like a long lost lover, as rays of morning sun do their best to mitigate the drop in temperature. The few ponies not gathered at the beacon accompany you to your destination, you raise a weak smile in return to their greetings. You almost see the crowd before the building itself, almost a hundred ponies all gathered around the beacon, their eyes glued to you the moment you’re spotted. You straighten your back, accustomed to the heightened attention of others. Ascending the staircase you stand on the beacon’s porch, inadvertently turning it into a makeshift podium. “Citizens of the Empire!” Your booming voice washes over the crowd, silencing the murmurs and hollers of the ponies. You scan over their demanding expressions, embers of hope and anger burning brightly in their eyes. “Many of you have expressed your worriment over the unfolding situation. The drop in temperature, the dilapidation around us, the dwindling resources, all rightful concerns. And yet, despite the circumstances, your voices will not go unheard!” Your hoof hits the wooden porch hard, your words sowing hope into everypony’s hearts. “As we speak, our best and brightest are working tirelessly on developing new measures to combat the cold!" Your wing unfurls, motioning to the beacon behind you. "In the meantime, the bravest among us scout the surrounding frostlands, in search of those still wandering the frozen wastes. When these poor souls are rescued, we will redirect our efforts to contacting Equestrian leadership for help." By now, the crowd's murmurs grow more amicable, their faces still hard, yet their eyes burning with hope. "Though the forecast is stark, we will endure. We will work through each and every hardship, and secure a better future for our children. For the city! For the Empire!" The crowd stampedes in unison, your words finding purchase in the hearts and minds of the populace. Shouts of support follow you down the impromptu podium, the sound repeating in your mind long after you've reached your tent. Despite the apparent success, you can't seem to still your beating heart, the thunderous sound assaulting your eardrums. You've managed to sway the people to your side, this time. Yet their faith, as usual, is fickle. The seeds of discontent are sown, and with each hardship their roots will only strengthen. Next time, you might not be so lucky. "Captain?" Snowdrifter's voice breaks through the isolating heartbeat in your ears, the thin floorboards creaking under his weight. "Can you spare a minute?" "What is it, Pierce?" He stands beside you, depositing a large stack of papers on the table. Before you can glance at the print, he leans on the wooden table, magicking a title page towards the middle of the table, depicting an odd looking rectangular device. "My people were scouting the library when we found this hidden in a secret compartment behind one of the shelves." He hands you the documentation, a lengthy read, by the looks of it. "You can read the full report later, but the gist of it is as follows: This Steam core as we call it, is a powerful source of heat, something we can use to replace bulky heating systems, and develop technologies previously thought impossible. We can't manufacture them as of now, so each one is monumentally precious." You nod, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. "A great boon for our cause, yet I feel you've got some less exciting developments to share with me." "Sharp as ever, Captain." A hastily made spreadsheet makes itself known, calling to you for attention. You scan the jagged lines, the shaky hornwriting, the ever-dropping numbers... "My colleagues and I did some math in our free time, and the results are... troubling, to say the least. If the data we got from the beacon can be trusted, the cold is here to stay, and the situation will only worsen. Our current heating will not be able to sustain the temperature, at this rate." "What can we do to remedy this?" The stallion levitates a blueprint into your grasp, the aura pricking your hooves during the transaction. "The core's inventor wasn't the only one to foresee the hard times ahead of us. Geological surveys indicate The City was built on top of a geothermal spring of some kind, the source of this energy trapped deep underground. If we dig a shaft to gain access to these underground deposits, we can construct a machine to enhance this natural energy, and redistribute heat throughout the city!" His voice was dripping from excitement, yet you couldn't help but frown. "How deep will the shaft be? How many ponies will we have to employ? What resources will we need?" Your eyes scan over the schematics, The Generator written in bold on top of the paper. Even in writing, the machine looked monumental, it would easily tower over a pony, reaching almost halfway towards the top of the castle. "According to my predictions, we'll need all hooves on deck with this one. We'll need a stable source of steel and wood, and a hefty amount of coal to fuel the Generator once construction is finished. It won't be easy, but it is our only hope." You sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Nothing could ever be easy, could it now? "You have my say so to begin construction of The Generator. From now on, you are responsible for overseeing and commanding its construction. Report to me when you need something, or developments of any kind occur. I will supply you to the best of my ability." The engineer offers you a small smile, saluting you as he leaves. "As you wish, Captain." An endless desert of white fills Swift’s entire vision as she scans the horizon in search of a waypoint to orient her group. The windswept arctic landscape is hard to look at, and behind her polarized goggles, Swift’s eyes water. She’s spent hours, days in this Sun-forsaken expanse, her regiment tasked with locating and escorting those who ventured into the frost to seek refuge from the Tyrant King. She clutches her glowworm lamp, the meager heat it provides doing its best to combat the overwhelming cold. She sighs, water vapour crystallizing on the scarf covering her muzzle. Despite the hope in her heart, a part of her fears, the worst has already transpired. Nopony can endure such conditions for more than a few hours, even less without a heat lamp. Swift shakes her head, scattering the wayward thoughts in an attempt to focus on what’s important. She won’t give up until either the lost are rescued, or they’ll find their bodies. “Ma'am!” A familiar voice shakes Swift out of her musings, and she turns to look at a heavily clothed figure, layers of fur and fabric covered by a thin coating of snow. “I think we’ve found somethin’, two klicks to the north, there’s a trail of smoke!” Swift squints, her gaze flickers through the horizon until she sees it too. What looks like an opening to a cave, a weak trail of smoke billowing into the white sky. “The local maps indicate a vast cave network in this region...” She yells over the howling wind, the rest of her regiment hanging on her every word. “Come, we must not dawdle! Somepony may still be alive!” Her subordinates not, hurrying their pace towards the possible sanctuary. The maw of the cave greets them with a soul-wrenching sight, a frail and malnourished stallion gasps as he sees the group, flickers of hope in his eyes as the scouts gallop towards him. “We’re here! We’re still alive!” He shouts, a burst of energy animating his weak frame. “Some of us are sick, we haven’t eaten in days...” One of the scouts rushes to catch the unicorn as his strength fades and his legs buckle. “Will you help us? We won’t make it on our own.” “Of course.” Swift responds, momentarily turning to the rest of the scouts. “Tend to the cold and the wounded, place a heating spell if need be, but conserve your strength.” The unicorns among them nod, following her orders. She turns to address the stallion. “How many of you are here?” “Fifteen foals, and thirty-something adults. Ponies took their foals when we fled from the Empire, most of us are simple workers.” He leans on the mare, barely able to stand. “We’ve had more, but some of the engineers ventured deeper into the caves to look for something to warm us with, they said something about heat from the earth, but I can’t quite remember.” He sighs, a somber look on his face. “Some of us... perished. We-we”ve moved their carcasses outside of the cave, to not make the living sick.” “The Empire’s free of its tyrant, we have food and warmth. The city’s not far from here...” Swift gives the stallion a once-over, before turning to look at the rest of the survivors. All of them are dangerously thin and pale, some have their hooves blackened, a sure sign of frostbite. They won’t make it on their own. It’d be a miracle if half of them survives the journey even with our help. “But we’ll escort you, just to be sure. Gather your people, once I send the report back to the City, we’ll get going.” “Thank you, miss...” “Swift Seeker. Call me Swift. And you are?” “Frostbreaker.” The stallion offers a weak smile. It’s the most beautiful thing Swift’s seen in the past couple of days. The mare’s thankful for the scarf covering her flushed cheeks. “Hear me, hear me! As of today, our Captain commands all technically inclined citizens to report to the workshop on St. Amore street for debriefing! Additionally, all tents within twenty meters of the Castle are to be relocated as soon as possible! To make sure his orders are carried out with appropriate swiftness, all workplace shifts are reduced by two hours today. Your Captain will address you at midnight, please save your questions until then.” Snowpiercer pretends he doesn’t hear the shouts of disgruntled ponies, looks past the angry expressions and hurtful words. He knew what their reaction would be, and the ponies didn’t disappoint. Their jeers mean nothing if they comply. Their admiration isn't worth a bit if we all freeze to death. Steel Hoof’s words ring out in his head, and the stallion finds himself in agreement with Captain’s words. Tough times are upon us, Pierce. Somepony has to make the hard decisions, and live with the outcome. I care not if they hate me for it, for I value their lives more than their opinions. Pierce sighs, muttering obscenities under his breath. “Damn Sobra, and damn this cold.” His ears pick up an odd sound amongst the cacophony of angry voices, that of hope and jubilation. “The scouts, they’ve returned!” One mare hollers. “White Noise! Sister!” Another cries. As more and more ponies flock to the beacon, the hatred in their voice melts away, replaced by relief and joy. Perhaps, not all is lost. Pierce thinks to himself, a weak smile tugging at the corners of his lips.ips. Author's Note A Promise Of Warmth One of the engineers draws you away from the crowd of advisers, his voice but a whisper. "My men were scouting the castle's library when they found a hidden compartment behind one of the shelves." He fishes out and odd looking devise out of his pocket, a glowing hot stone surrounded by a cage of metal and wires you can't make sense of. "The notes called this a Steam Core. One unicorn foresaw the downfall of Sobra's reign and saw fit to develop a technology that would aid in our survival. With it, we can develop advanced building that would normally require additional heat to function, as well as a bulkier heating and power system." His face grows somber. "Unfortunately, the inventor was discovered and had to flee the city with the blueprints, as to not let the technology fall into wrong hooves. I suggest we attempt finding him and the blueprints, no matter the odds." The stallion looks over his shoulder, his whisper conspiratorial. "My men did some math on our off time, and our predictions are... troubling, to say the least. The cold is here to stay, and the situation will only worsen. If you give us the green light, we can begin developing means to warm ourselves, thank the stars, that inventor wasn't the only one to prepare for the coming storm." We have to build the generator
Promising BeginningsThe soft jingle of magic fights against the bitter freezing storm, the lilies in its grasp safely shielded from the terrific onslaught. The golden glow intensifies for a moment, before neatly placing the flowers along hundreds of others, their frozen white petals reflecting the glow. Celestia sighs as her eyes scan over the black marble sign. To those who gave their lives in the struggle against the Umbrum Tyrant. May your souls one day see sunlight again. A hollow snort emanates from beside the Sun Princess. "You have something to say, sister?" She doesn't need to turn to see the baleful expression on Luna's features. "Tis' the same thing we say every year, Celestia." Her voice is calm, but from experience, the alabaster alicorn knows this calm will not last. "We do not see the purpose behind Our visit." "It is customary to pay respects to the dead, Luna." Celestia begins with a frown, knowing all too well where this line of conversation will lead them. "They're not dead, it's simply easier for you to think so." An old wound awakes a familiar ache in Celestia's heart, and despite everything, she can't help but bite back. "You think I haven't tried to help them? We both know that all we can do is wait." "No. All you do is wait! Each year we prepare for this pointless pilgrimage, each year We propose a solution, and each moon-forsaken year you deny Us!" Snow crunched under Luna's hoof as the mare dug into the frozen ground. "And each year you condemn these ponies to suffer, and for what? To maintain an air of purity? To keep the status quo?" "Sister! Dark magic is not to be trifled with." The air around Celestia grew hotter for a moment, the snow beneath her hooves melting in an instant. "We both learned that lesson, and paid for it dearly." Her somber tone was noted, and duly ignored. "Nonsense! As any field of magic, one needs to be capable enough to utilize it. Failures of the past were marked by carelessness and ineptitude. Need We remind you of the terrors a simple attraction spell can bring?" All around them, the wind picks up, the encroaching snowdrift repelled only by the sheer heat emanating from Celestia. Neither of them notice. "No. I will not allow it. My answer is final." "We see things for what they are now, Celestia. The reasoning behind your actions. All you wish to do is to trample any ideas We propose, nip any differing opinions in the bud. We-" Luna sighs, shaking her head. "All is pointless. The Council will not listen to Us, hooflickers, the lot of them." Her wings shoot out, the wind lifting The Mare of The Moon without effort. "Sister, please, wait! You don't understand" "This discussion is over, Celestia. Farewell." As The Solarch Diarch watches the other mare disappear into the metallic clouds, she pays no mind to the quickening wind, or the drop in temperature, the lonely postament long forgotten. "Heave lads, ho lads! The production line must be operational before the shaft is dug out!" Auburn Leaves, a hay-maned brigadier in his fifties hollers to his crew, his earth colored coat glistening with sweat. With a final grunt, the ponies on the ground set the support beam in place, one of many to be erected before the building could be called operational. "What's the rush? We've got plenty of coal, and the brazier are plenty warm enough, if you ask me." One of the mares grumbles, wiping sweat off her brow. "That's why you're not Captain, Lumber! You live in the now, when we need to plan for the future! What will you do if the temperature drops tomorrow?" Another worker, a stallion, chastises her. "Idunno, freeze to death? Not like we can last long without the Equestrian's help anyways. Wonder what's taking the scouts so long to reach their town..." "OI, you two, quit slackin and go back to work! We've a schedule to maintain." The two workers growl, but fall in line with the rest of the brigade. Leaves sighs and thanks heavens he's not the one lugging the heavy weights around. Suddenly, a magically amplified voice roars through the workplace, everypony freezing at the sound. All unicorns, proceed to the worksite in short order. Nodding to his second in command, Leaves hurries towards the middle of the city. They better be finished when I'm back, or we'll have to pull an all-nighter on this one. Auburn Leaves shivers, a labored breath escaping his chest. I can't be imagining this. It's getting colder. A few dozen unicorns surround the cleared worksite, a circular shape marking the future generator site. Murmurs plague the gathering crowd, many of them pertaining to the possibility of failure. "Rapid excavation of this scale has never been attempted before. Have we taken into account the possibility of a chain reaction? The whole city could be swallowed by a giant sinkhole!" A mare protests, casting a quick heating spell on the tips of her ears, as a particularly strong gust of wind crashes into the city. "You've got a better idea?" Another one argues. "If things stay as is, we'll be frozen solid in a week's time! Even yaks can't survive below -50 Celcius!" The first mare scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Whatever, but if I'm still breathing under all the rubble, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so'." “Everypony, stay silent. We’ll need all the concentration we can get.” The arguing pair turns sharply towards the voice’s source, ready to give the interrupting fool a piece of their minds. Any complaints they have die in their throats, as their eyes focus on the offending stallion, his eyes hidden by round goggles, the opaque apparatus meant to stave off ice-blindness. “Bicker to your heart’s content after we’re done with construction, have I made myself clear?” Leaves scoffs as he watches Head Overseer Snowdrifter command their combined effort. The lad is half past his twenties, and by the Heart, his ego is rapidly outgrowing him. Sooner or later, somepony’s going to pop that bubble, mark my words. The young stallion clears his throat, a barely visible aura fixing the hem of his heavy winter coat. “Our time grows near, mares and gentlecolts. Our actions today decide our Empire’s future, hundreds of lives depend on our skill and expertise. We’ve trained for weeks, and each of us knows our part. We will. Not. Fail.” Murmurs quell a tad as Head Overseer casts a studying glance over the crowd. Satisfied with the state of his workforce, the stallion continues. “On my word, supporting unicorns are to establish a bond with casters, and provide a constant flow of mana. Casters, on the other hoof, are to proceed according to memorised instructions. The excavated material is to be placed at the appropriate quadrant for extraction of useful materials. Upon completion, all participating unicorns will be given additional food rations, as well as two days off from work.” As he speaks, the glow surrounding his horn intensifies to rival the snow glare. “Now!” Autumn Leaves sucks in a lungful of air through grit teeth, the spell coming to him naturally as his magic merges with the others, an intoxicating flow of mana moving in a single direction. The world around him grows hazy and distant, the loss of feeling in his hooves having nothing to do with the surrounding cold. "Keep'er steady, lads!" He hears himself say, not to anypony in particular. "We're getting closer." Like a ticking timer in his mind, an invisible pressure gauge steadily relaying the information, the stallion feels the moment of truth approaching. Whoever's the caster, they better do a stellar job. One wrong move, and we'll all be under the rubble. The sound is almost deafening. Tons upon tons of rock and crystal displaced in a blink of an eye, the action followed by a soul-searing pull of magic as their collective mana rushes to rejuvenate the casters. Before he can register whether or not the spell worked, the sound of cheering reaches Autumn's ears, the voices tired, but happy. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as the stallion's legs shake, fatigue quickly setting in. Maybe we're not doomed after all. “Captain Hoof!” Your eyes snap to the stallion entering your tent, production graphs and research plans set aside for the time being. "The main shaft has been successfully excavated. As per Autumn's report, the Profiles manufacture is operational and will reach the projected output in 24 hours." Snowdrifter is as reserved as ever, but you feel the enthusiasm oozing off of him. "If everypony sticks to schedule, we'll begin construction of the shaft structure within a day." "I see." You rapp your wingtips against the wooden table, waiting for the unicorn to speak again. "Anything else, Overseer?" "If I may, Captain." A rolled-up piece of parchment floats from his saddlebag onto the table. Unfurling it, you recognise the dates and numbers. "According to our weather report, the temperature will worsen over the course of the following weeks, far beyond our ability to mitigate it. Now, my engineers have presented blueprints for suitably heated bunkhouses and infirmaries, but even those might prove insufficient." Truth be told, you found yourself pondering the same problem the last couple of days. Ever since Dawn brought you the weather report, your faith in finishing the construction in time has been growing weaker. "How much time do we have?" "I allowed myself to extrapolate the data found in Miss Dawn's report. Doing so has led me to believe that the City will become unlivable in two months' time, not accounting for any unpredictable changes in weather. At our current rate, we won't be able to construct the Generator in time." “That is... Most troubling.” You rub the bridge of your nose in irritation. “What are our options?” The unicorn shifts in pace, as if unsure whether or not you will approve of his solution. “We can impose a two-shift system on critical infrastructure, which, while doubling the workforce requirement, will raise our efficiency...” He dozes off for a moment, before resuming. “By about 85%, accounting for accidents and exhaustion caused by overworking.” Noticing the look you’re giving him, Snowdrifter continues. “As for outside help, you better consult Miss Dawn. From what I remember, she should be close to reaching their settlement, Winterfort, was it?” Despite his efforts, you can hear the contempt in his voice at the mention of the Equestrian frontier town. “Indeed. I’ll send somepony once Dawn reports. In the meantime, you may begin developing the two-shift schedule, in case of dire news.” Snowdrifter nods, gathering his notes into the saddlebag. “As you wish, Captain.” As the stallion makes for the exit, you turn to a crystal-powered telegraph sitting on your desk. Tuning to the wavelength of Dawn’s regiment, you type a message with utmost precision, as to not waste any magical charge. Dawn. Winterfort. Report. Pondering for a moment, you add. Urgent. Sending the message, you return to city planning, the hoof-drawn map laid bare before you. The makeshift hothouses will freeze over in a few weeks... They may not like it, but we’ll have to resort to hunting for a while. Your eyes drift over the sketched bunkhouses, their silhouettes outlined in light blue. The living spaces won’t be warm, per se... But they’ll carry us through the worst of the approaching freeze. They’ll be plenty comfortable after that. “Captain? A moment of your time, please?” A guardstallion you can’t quite put a name to steps into your tent, a worried expression on his face. “Go on.” “We’ve found a filly sitting among the graves, the one you-” “Shifting Tides?” “That’s the one, Sir. When we asked what she was doing there, she asked-” The stallion coughs, and you can almost hear the pain in his voice. “She asked if you could call an emergency meeting. Says that her mum and pop will wake back up to attend.” “I see.” You sigh. It’s been a week since you visited the distraught filly, but for all you know, it might as well have been a lifetime ago. “I reckon you took her with you?” He nods, unsure of your answer. “Don’t keep her out in the cold, then. I’ll look after her for the time being.” He manages a smile, saluting you on his way out. “Right away, Sir.” When the tent parts for the second time, you see her. Her navy blue locks flowing down the mint coat of her neck, a heavy coat covering the rest of her. You bury the pang of pain in your heart at the dejected look in her eyes, ones that, for a brief moment, flicker with hope. “Captain?” Her voice is tiny, yet it strikes at your core. “The name’s Hoof, kid. Let’s drop the formalities for now, alright?” She nods timidly, approaching the wooden table as you move the single chair towards her. Crawling on top of the seat, she eyes the table with curiosity. “Is that the map of the city?" You nod, watching the unicorn pick up a pencil, a pale aura gripping it flickering as it moves. "Did you draw it yourself?" "Sure did." The filly looks unsure for a moment, thinking of something to say. A subtle shiver wracking her silhouette makes you acutely aware of the surrounding temperature. "I guess that's why you're a captain, and not a painter..." As soon as the words leave her mouth, the pencil drops to the table, the filly covering her mouth with her hood. "Not like being bad at drawing is bad or anything!" You chuckle, the sound cutting her spiraling short. "Can't say I was ever good at fine arts. Now, my brother? He was a natural." The filly's ears perk up, her attention diverted from the recent faux pass. "Back in kindergarten, there was this group of foals who thought they were better than others, something about being related to royalty." You move towards the stove, its flickering maw roaring to life as you shovel more coal into it. "At first they were more annoying than anything. But over time, they started demanding special treatment. Taking the other foals' porridge, hoarding toys and the like." You take a second seat from your bedside, taking your place at the table. "Were they really better C- Hoof?" You shrug. "Were they better at something? Sure. Each of us is better at doing something than the other. Problem is, they thought they were better, period. And they sure weren't afraid of flaunting that every chance they got." By now, the filly was hanging on your every word. "So my brother decided to challenge that. During arts and crafts, when they started boasting about how better their drawings were compared to the rest, Tender bet that, If he got a higher grade than them, they'd have to keep their mouths shut for a month." "And if he didn't?" "He'd have to do everything they said the entire month." The filly gasps. "That's mean!" "That it is. So, they do their best and present the results, and, can you believe it? They looked worse than that map you saw!" The filly giggles, a soft jingle that fills you with hope. "So the moment of truth comes, and when Tender grabs the brush, which was quite a challenge, mind you, seeing as he was an earth pony, something magical happens." You work your mouth trying to put the memories flashing through your mind's eye into words. "It was like the brush danced across that canvas, his body flowed along a waterway only he could see. For him, drawing was no harder than breathing is for you and me." You take a deep breath, focusing on that moment in time. "When he finished, the most beautiful landscape I've ever laid my eyes on painted that canvas. Pines of the deepest green color stretched into a baby blue sky, the forestry melding with the most colorful of meadows." You smile at the recollection, and beside you, the filly does too. "He got his cutiemark that day, one of the first in our class, too." "So did he win? Did he beat those meanies?" The filly asks, fire in her eyes warming you just as well as the fire stove behind the two of you. "The teacher praised him, but still gave those kids a higher grade. Something about their parents donating to the school's fund." Tides harrumphed, pouting. "That's unfair! Did they make him make true on his bet?" You snort. This filly is far too precious. "Actually, it was Tender who wanted to honor the bet. Said that a word was a word." "Did he do it?" "No." You rub the back of your neck, wondering if you should continue. Might as well finish the story. "My friends and I cornered those bullies, showed them what happens when you don't play fair." You skirt around the more violent side of the events, but you get the notion that Tides understands what you mean. "After that, they stopped bothering the other foals." "You were mean to them too, right?" She frowns, the expression slowly morphing into a more understanding one. "But if that stopped them from being mean... I guess it's alright?" "Ponies can be mean, Tides, but that doesn't mean we have to stoop to their level." You sigh, turning to look at the crackling stove. "Thing is, we can't always be better than the mean ponies, and when that time comes, we need the strength to do what has to be done to protect those we love." A lull in conversation sets in, and in the corner of your eye, you can see a pensive expression on the filly's face. "Where's your brother now, Hoof?" "He went to live in Canterlot a few years back, haven't heard much from him since..." "Since the mean unicorn took over?" "Yeah, since that." A buzzing noise snaps you out of your thoughts, your attention diverting to the telegraph. "Wait a moment, Tide. I'll be right back." Approaching the machine you decode the transmission. Hoof. Found Survivors. Sent them with Swift's squad. Heading For Winterfort. ETA 48 hrs. "Is it something bad?" You hear the filly ask, worry in her tone. "You look sad." "It's nothing, Tides. I'm a little tired, is all." Changing the subject, you continue. "Want to hear how I got my cutiemark?" The filly squeals and begins peppering you with questions as you launch into another story. Yet despite everything, you can't help the growing pit at the bottom of your stomach. Author's Note A Beacon Of Hope We see it, Captain! Out in the distance, an Equestrian outpost is jutting out of the snowy landscape around it. The sight fills our scouts with hope, yet something odd is troubling them. Why is their beacon down? Why had they not sent help? We will find our answers at the outpost. Promising Beginnings With everypony cleared from the excavation zone, the few unicorns we have consolidate their efforts, and the mass of earth and crystal disappears right before your eyes. A seemingly bottomless hole now stands in the middle of the city, right next to the castle. Ponies steel themselves as they gaze into the deep abyss. We have to build the Generator. The weather will get colder. We have to hurry.
