“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