Echoes of a forgotten freedom

Rebirth, novelty, freedom: these words resonated within me as the palace faded into the distance. It was time for me to live by my own rules. I existed, I burned with desire, and my wings had never felt so light.

I puffed out my chest proudly, my muscles taut, like those of my former comrades on parade. My eyes certainly gleamed with a newfound determination.

My gaze, filled with unabashed contempt, lingered on those noble mares and stallions, always ready to crush those who hadn’t had the “privilege” of being born into the right family. It was unbearable for them that a proud Pegasus dared to glare at them like the trash they truly were, perched atop their false pedestals! Their apparent fragility almost made me smile: they looked like they needed a protective glass case, with a large label reading ‘Fragile.’

To my great delight, the astonishment painted on their faces, their almost instinctive recoil as I passed, had become a strangely addictive source of satisfaction. I must have been an intimidating sight in their eyes, though it never took much to terrify a noble.

My hooves struck the cobblestones with purpose. I didn’t yet know where I was heading, but this city made me sick. Leaving it felt far more tempting than staying. After all, I was about to become a deserter, and all of Equestria lay open before me, far from my hometown.

The big questions remained: should I take to the skies or board the train to leave? What precautions should I take? Most importantly, what equipment would I need for this new life? What would my first objective be? These questions were unfamiliar to me, but their answers would be guided by necessity and the training I had received.

Deep down, one truth remained: a stallion doesn’t get far without bits, and the little I carried wouldn’t guarantee more than a few nights at an inn and some simple meals. Wandering alone wouldn’t bring much profit, and turning to banditry would attract unwanted attention far too quickly... but perhaps a blend of the two might just work.

A smile spread across my muzzle as my steps carried me toward the exit of this capital, now particularly repugnant in my eyes. Despite its marble monuments and imposing structures, it seemed to me nothing more than a glorified pile of stones, to which I owed nothing anymore.

My hooves led me out of the city, and I found myself taking a deep breath, as if the air was suddenly fresher, less stifling. The ground, though still paved, grew less well-maintained, and I felt my wings twitch slightly as I instinctively spread them to their full span, closing my eyes.

My entire body stretched, as if awakening from a long, deep slumber. I even noticed faint cracks along my back and wings, and I felt as though I had instantly regained the physical form and abilities I’d had at the end of my training.

I reopened my eyes, feeling the sun warm my coat without the interruption of buildings muting its heat. Gathering all the strength in my legs, I launched myself into the air, my wings beating powerfully at the exact moment a breeze picked up. Was this it—the sensation of freedom? Was this what the colt I once was had been whispering to me in my dreams?

"Yes," I instinctively breathed, a childlike smile gracing my lips. At last, I felt in control of my own body again, and my meticulously trimmed mane fluttered softly in the blend of my speed and the gentle wind.

I flew as if I had just rediscovered my wings for the first time, soaring through the clouds, edging closer to that boundary every Pegasus must respect, where the air becomes so thin that breathing itself becomes impossible. Then, I let myself fall, my limbs fully spread, eyes closed against the sky.

The adrenaline from this freefall allowed me to hear the pounding of my own heart, thumping with exhilaration. I spun around to regain a more stable flight, feeling my muscles tingle slightly from the effort. But this pain was a good one—the kind that forges a stronger stallion.

Perched on a branch, I watched the sun sink toward the horizon. The red-orange light bewitched me, even though I knew it was being controlled by some being. How long had it been since I took the time to enjoy such a simple spectacle? The answer came instinctively, without thought: "Too long," slipped from my closed lips.

I smiled to myself, as if savoring this moment of tranquility. Gradually, night spread its veil over the world, and the temperature dropped gently. I took a moment to survey my surroundings. I could no longer make out the castle of Canterlot; from the position of the setting sun, I must have flown westward. Cloudsdale shouldn’t be too far, but the idea of swapping a pile of stone for a mass of clouds didn’t exactly excite me.

The night promised to be cold, but I had been trained for such situations. I broke a few branches to build myself a makeshift shelter; it was soothing to hear the sounds of nature, free from the officers’ yelling or the snores and other noises of my colleagues.

My eyes slowly began to close…

I woke with the first light of dawn, my stomach growling slightly. Despite that, I felt completely rested. I swept away the morning dew that had settled on my makeshift blanket, the drops gently crushing beneath my movements. The fresh air of the dawn seemed to breathe peace, and I took a moment to brush my feathers and clean them roughly before stretching fully.

The dreams that had passed through my mind had dissipated upon waking, but for once, they left no unpleasant feeling. My mind seemed calm, at ease… a welcome change.

Unfortunately, one thing couldn’t wait: returning to a civilized place. Making survival gear myself and hunting for food would take far too long. And I wouldn't say no to some cider.

I spread my wings and soared into the sky. My deductions were correct: in the distance, I could see Cloudsdale, that floating city, suspended in the air like a pale imitation of grandeur. A heap of woven clouds, fragile structures pretending to be a sanctuary for pegasi. I supposed that the rainbows bursting from it came straight from the cloud factory’s waste, no doubt.

But well, my desire for cider and supplies easily outweighed the nausea that washed over me at the sight of the city. Even though, as I got closer, the composition of the clouds seemed artificial. The shapes were carefully arranged, trying to mimic nature, but too clean, too cut, to resemble something alive. It was obvious that the pegasi who had sculpted it had become far too detached from nature to even notice.

My hooves eventually touched the clouds that formed the floor of this future ruin. The sensation was strangely unpleasant: too soft, too smooth, and above all, too uniform, as if every patch of cloud had been evenly flattened to create this vile, flat, featureless surface. I didn’t have to take more than five steps before I took to the air again, propelling myself upwards to hover over the streets, searching for a store and, more importantly, a bar.

Finding the store I was looking for took me about an hour. These places were populated by creatures with no adventurer’s blood, having forgotten the time when we were Equestria’s warrior race. I tried not to think too much about it as I dropped down in front of this blue building, where the sign with white letters proudly displayed the name "Nuagathlon."

I quickly entered, scanning the aisles while muttering at the overpriced goods. I grabbed some lightweight camping gear, easily portable, along with new saddlebags, knowing that would suffice for the journey ahead.

The cashier, a pale pegasus mare with light gray fur and a mane carefully trimmed in shades of blue and white, wore a distracted expression, likely more concerned with the positioning of her wings than with the customer standing before her.

I had to give her credit for one thing: she was beautiful in that appearance, even though the faint scent of perfume and the subtle gleam of her mane brought me back to reality, just like this place did. She was fake in her own way.

I placed my items on the counter heavily, to interrupt her thoughts with the noise, and I looked her in the eyes without bothering to smile. I was searching for a hint of emotion or pride in the face of my rough manner, almost daring her to show me something.

She flinched slightly in surprise, hardly meeting my gaze before quickly looking away, opting instead to cowardly stare at her hooves. "Good day, sir," she said, her voice soft and slightly trembling as she began counting the items.

That vision of submission both saddened and reassured me in the thought that my own kind had lost what had kept it standing for so long: its warrior spirit. "At least lift your head," I growled.

I saw her muzzle rise slightly, but her eyes remained fixed on the items. She had clearly finished counting. "I apologize, sir," she said, a brief silence following. "That’ll be 50 bits, please, sir."

The temptation to grab the gear and leave without paying was strong. After all, who was going to stop me? I pushed the thought away, reluctantly. I was going to have enough problems soon enough. I placed the Bits on the counter and left the store before she even finished counting—after all, the total was correct.

Once outside, I adjusted my new gear precisely, carefully balancing the weight to avoid being thrown off-balance in flight. The burden was comforting, though it lacked a weapon, and I knew in this pacified city, I wouldn't find anything to serve that function—at least not as effectively.

The royal guards had only one blacksmith dedicated to crafting weapons and armor, making the acquisition of arms, though legal, complicated—perhaps even impossible.

That was why the country had lasted this long...

I turned this thought over in my mind as I flew, adjusting to the new weight on my shoulders. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me of my hunger. Rather than looking at the many restaurant signs, I took the time to inhale the air lightly, trying to pick up on an enticing scent.

As I continued to fly, my keen nose caught a whiff of something mouthwatering from a small stand at the edge of an alley. In contrast to the flashy neon signs of the neighboring restaurants, this one was modest—almost discreet. A simple faded canvas canopy, from which wafted the delightful aroma of fresh, sweet fruits. Without giving it another thought, I descended and landed right in front of the stand.

The person behind the stand was an elderly mare, her brown coat speckled with a few gray hairs at her temples. Her wings appeared strong, a clear sign of her vitality. The wrinkles on her face marked the passage of years, yet she wore a genuine, calm smile, almost wise, as if she had seen the entire city change without ever being disturbed by it. Her piercing blue eyes scanned each passerby, and her ears were attuned to the slightest sound.

It was a refreshing sight. After what little I had seen of the city, I knew that this mare still carried within her the pride and strength of the pegasi, despite her advanced age.

She smiled at me without hurry, as if she had all the time in the world to offer, and with a simple nod of her head, invited me to help myself. "What can I offer you, young Pegasus?" she asked, her voice gentle yet firm, carrying a quiet authority.

I took a moment to observe the stands, the colorful fruits spread out before me. The apples, pears, and peaches looked freshly picked, their skin gleaming under the soft light. Yet, one thing caught my attention more than the rest: a dish slowly simmering on a small stove, hidden under a curtain of steam.

"What's that?" I asked, gesturing respectfully with my head toward the dish.

Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she looked me up and down. "A simple vegetable stew, prepared by me, and I think it could do you some good."

I smiled faintly. She seemed to know more than she was letting on. "I'll take your advice, something many ponies in this city should do."

The mare smiled gently at my remark, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. She raised a hoof and pointed to the steaming dish with a subtle motion, inviting my gaze to settle on it.

"It’s never too late to learn, young Pegasus," she said, her voice soft yet full of wisdom. "The city may chase a thousand things, but the real things... they stay here, in simplicity."

Indeed, my nostrils appreciated the smell, and I found myself salivating, a sensation I hadn't felt in a long time. The sweet scent of the vegetables simmering in the stew seemed to cling to the air, reminding me of simple, comforting meals from long ago. The warmth of the steam, the light humidity escaping from the dish, gave me a sense of warmth and comfort I hadn’t felt in...

I cut off my train of thought, knowing that the old mare, whose eyes pierced right through me, could have seen my distress. "I'll take a portion," I said.

The old mare turned slowly, as if savoring every movement, and took a wooden spoon to serve the steaming stew. The vegetables floated in a thick broth, golden orange, and the aroma filled my nostrils with a gentle yet powerful sweetness. She handed me the dish in a small clay bowl, her eyes shining with a kindness that, this time, touched me more than I had expected. She was not a fake, but a mare who loved what she did, with the wisdom that came from age.

A real mare.

I took the bowl with gratitude and gave her the bits, which she didn't even bother to count, smiling gently at me. "Enjoy your meal."

I sat on the bench in front of the stall, my hooves trembling slightly. The fragrance of the stew mixed with the cool air of the city, and for a moment, I let myself be carried away, forgetting everything else.

Expect the need for a drink after that.