Equestrian Frontier

Chapters

Dusk Before the Dawn
Plunge into a Brave New World
Day One - Getting Familiar
Settling In

Dusk Before the Dawn

The nation of Equestria. A country populated by ponies of many shapes and sizes. Each of its citizens falls into one of three races: the Earth ponies, who take the mantle of usually physically demanding duties; the Pegasus ponies, who command the skies and manipulate the country’s weather, defined by the wings on their backs; and the Unicorn ponies, whose horns enable them to actively harness their inborn magic power.

Presiding over the equine populace, the Royal Pony Sisters. The elder, wise Princess Celestia, tasked with raising the sun and beginning the day anew, and the younger, Princess Luna, appointed with bringing forth the moon to pave the way for the night.

For centuries, the sisters’ rule over Equestria has persisted. As did the nation’s longevity. With their watchful eyes, ponies very rarely if ever fell into strife with one another. They were quick to forgive the other’s trespasses. Camaraderie. Compromise. Forgiveness. Friendship. Celestia’s and Luna’s teachings preached these traits, and have been passed on from one generation to the following. The hearts of ponies beat as one. One nation. One world.

However, Equestria is not a utopia. It is not perfect by any means. No. It had fallen into darkness once. One thousand years ago. When a ruthless hand prevailed over all.

On a barren badlands, an ominous throne stood upright, unphased by the calamity around. The inconsistent tremors, the roaring torrents that would flood many of Equestria’s settlements, the storms shooting down rods of lightning to the ground. Sitting upon the throne, the embodiment of chaos and disharmony, Discord. His appearance corresponded with his name perfectly: an amalgamation of different creatures put together – a chimera. A deer antler and a goat’s horn on his head. A lion’s paw and an eagle’s claw for arms. The wings of a bat and a Pegasus protruding on his back. The legs of a goat and lizard. All joined together by a reptile-like body.

Long before the sisters’ rule, Equestria fell under Discord’s authority. Magnitudes in the earth have destroyed countless towns and cities, claiming the lives that dwelt in them. Constant shifts in weather made prosperity a blind pursuit. Lives fell into misery from the disasters caused by him. Those who could not endure the perverse law and the havoc took it upon themselves to end their own lives. These were but a few of Discord’s atrocities.

The suffering of ponies brought a smile to the chimera’s face. A smile that would start merry and degrade into a sinister one. One that desired to inflict more pain.

That faithful day, amidst the disarray, both Celestia and Luna stepped forth, in possession of powerful pony treasures: the Elements of Harmony, six gems of varying colors fitted into two tiaras. Standing before him, determined to end his reign of terror.

“Ah, Celestia and Luna,” said Discord, grinning in amusement over his handiwork. And the princesses’ act of valor. “Just the two girls I wanted to see. What do you think? Like the renovations I made?”

“Your time has come, Discord,” Celestia declared, parrying the chimera’s jeering remarks. “Today, your rule over Equestria ends. You don’t stand a chance. Give up now, and this will not have to be difficult.”

“My my, what big words. So is this the part where I start shaking in my legs, all scared-like?” Even after Celestia’s warning, he continued with his taunting.

Luna was more short-tempered than her sister. She did not take kindly to Discord’s patronizing. “Hmph. How smug of you, Discord. Let us see if you will still be after we are finished with you,” she retaliated, aware of how the fate of Equestria hung in the balance. How it rested firmly on their shoulders alone. With no one to help them.

Rising from his throne, Discord began stretching his limbs, indifferent to the situation. Underestimating his opposition. He snapped his fingers, dismissing the throne behind him. Allowing both forces the entire space for a heated encounter. He made certain that there were no obstructions, no interferences. Nothing to disrupt the pace.

“Alright, alright,” said Discord, annoyed. Pushing the two princesses to their limits with his tone of voice. “You want the keys to the castle? Fine. But we do this the old fashion way.” He saw the anticipation in their eyes. He was not moved. They were ready. All of them. “We’re going to have us a big fight out here. I’m going to put Equestria on the line. If I win, it’s an eternity of misery for these little horses. If you win, which I doubt, then Equestria is all yours.”

“So be it.” That was Celestia’s only answer.

And then, it began. A cataclysmic battle between Discord and the Royal Sisters. Beings of immense power. Good against evil. The light against the darkness. Both sides exchanged blasts of magic, the effects of each spell differing from the last. All of them devastating, nonetheless. Enough to kill ordinary ponies.

The earth beneath them split, creating cavities from small chasms to wide canyons. Heaven and Hell trembled before the conflict. Clouds above that were already darkened turned into black masses, shutting out the sun and moon entirely. Shooting lightning down the war-torn land.

From city to city, from one village to another, everypony witnessed the great fight making progress. For those who could not, they still felt the battle from afar. Sending shivers through their hooves, down their spines.

For days, the battle lasted. Stalemates would be broken only to be reached again. It became more of a tug of war than anything else. The opposing forces were evenly matched. Everyone was close to their limits. Cuts, bruises, burns and lacerations were they laden with. It had to end with a victor. No in-between. One sides would rise. The other would fall.

It was then, on the seventh day of the battle, that everything came to a head. Celestia and Luna forwarded their last gambit. Their hidden plan. Only until Discord had been fully weakened, until there was no hope for him to retaliate, would they put the Elements of Harmony to use. The time was ripe.

“Brace yourself, sister,” said Celestia, joining with her sister hoof in hoof. Channeling her whole magic power to this one moment. To the tiara that rested on her head.

“You too,” Luna returned, following suit. The gems on their tiaras radiating a splendid brilliance. A purifying spectrum.

Unbeknownst to them was Discord initiating his own final gambit. Formulated as an initiative. A countermeasure to the princesses’ plan. He was more open with his intentions, boldly detailing it while still remaining camouflaged.

“You two may have won this,” he commenced. “But Discord will live on. And when I live on, so will the darkness in everypony’s hearts.”

His entire self emitted a foul black aura; his plan was set in motion. Clothed in the black mist, Discord recited an incantation. A series of sentences that ensured that his spirit would live on. That somehow, someday, Equestria will know the feeling of despair once again.

“Thus this rite shall be uttered, and all of Equestria will hear it. In my final hours, I give unto thee a fragment of my spirit. One last memento I leave before I depart. To serve as a reminder of the despair that I have inspired in everypony’s hearts. Let this relic grant the desires of anypony’s mind, and in turn her desires will be her bind. Chaos shall continue to reign now and forevermore. I christen this relic ‘Elysium’, NOW COME FORTH‼”

The aura had vanished. It had been replaced by a black, metallic urn materialized seemingly from thin air and into his grasp.

The princesses held their ground, not giving Discord the pleasure of frightening them. Without hesitation, a wondrous blast of magic shot from the bright kaleidoscope of colors. It was overwhelming to unleash such force, but Celestia and Luna kept their firm stance. The spell made its impact, causing Discord to scream in agony. Resulting in his imprisonment as a mere stone statue. A monument to his rise and fall as Equestria’s ruler.

Finally, the battle was won. The glow subsided from the sacred jewels. An exhausted Celestia and Luna fell to their hooves, breathing desperately for air. Victorious in the midst of the destruction the country had endured.

But they were still not at ease. They turned their attention to the urn left behind by Discord. The urn named ‘Elysium’. It was cold to the touch. As well as heavy; not even the strongest Earth pony could lift it alone without causing his back severe pain. Why did he leave an urn behind? What does it mean for Equestria? They were unsure. They did not know what to make of it. Whether to destroy it, dispose of it or leave it be. One reasonable decision crossed Luna’s mind: it was not worth their time.

“He called it…’Elysium’. That Discord is such an odd character. I think we should leave it for now, sister,” Luna suggested, eyeing the urn carefully.

After a short pause, Celestia concurred, surprising her sister; how could she leave the urn behind without knowing what it was capable of? “You’re right, Luna. Restoring Equestria is our top priority. We’ll worry about it when the time comes.”

Leaving the conflict-ridden badlands, the Sisters made for every acre of Equestria, utilizing the Elements to undo the damage caused by Discord’s carelessness. All that were once broken, now restored. Homes. Resources. Families. Lives.

The scars have healed, but continued to remained. As a reminder to all of ponykind of their darkest hour. A reminder never to allow the darkness within even a chance to consume them. A reminder to all that where despair abounds, so does hope.

No matter how great chaos may be, it will never win. It must not be allowed to win…

Plunge into a Brave New World

At the very tip of the border in the western most region of Equestria, a metropolis rests at the juxtaposition between sea and land. A peculiar blend of both rural and urban, in lifestyle and structure. Skyscrapers, big and small, new and old, tower to match the mountain ranges nearby. The masses of land serve as the basis for many agricultural establishments and in turn their natural resources. On the city’s edge.

The Grand City of Bastion. Named so for its most known landmark; the giant wall surrounding it that acts as its citadel. A city set apart from the rest of Equestria. Far more developed than its fellow inhabitations, in every aspect. Its technology more evolved, more realized, than other cities of its magnitude; for only the wealthiest of ponies, intricate machinations tasked with the simplest of everyday duties have made their lives infinitely easier, more often than not at the expense of their motivation to perform said duties. The flow of information across the city extensively orchestrated. Its governing powers equaling even that of the Royal Pony Sisters’. A blending together of elements of modern and simple lifestyles into a perfect balance.

But Bastion’s most defining aspect, outside of its great wall, is its military-structured fighting force: the Bastion Paramilitary. Comprised of civilian ponies recruited in yearly intervals, the Paramilitary is broken down into three categories: the Army Division, the Air Force Division and the Intelligence Division.

The Army Division ponies – Earth ponies – are deployed for missions concerning the land such as excavation, exploration, rescue and combat, and are such trained to be highly acquainted with different types of terrain and to be able to adapt to constant changes.

Air Force ponies are Pegasus ponies responsible for air-based combat and weather manipulation; the latter is a crucial training component, as several undertakings may involve adverse conditions that Army ponies will not be prepared for, and would thus demand that Pegasi adjust the weather to their fellow soldiers’ liking.

Though ridiculed by their peers for the lack of any real physical exertion in their duties, the Unicorns of the Intelligence Division are burdened with the most difficult array of chores among the three Divisions. The premise of collecting data for future references, though deceptively simple, is anything but simple. Data gathered range from simple and often public knowledge such as temperatures of the daytime and the night time to more complicated topics like Equestria’s exotic fauna, the behavioral patterns of the species in question, eating habits, likes and dislikes, and so on. As such, Intelligence ponies face countless variances in their field of work, moreso than their Army and Air Force counterparts, whose work are straightforward.

As peaceful and prosperous as everything may seem to be, with every façade, there is a subtlety. And Bastion has many. A large black cloud looming overhead. It is a city of extremes. A city of secrets.

The dichotomy between rich and poor, the fortunate and the unfortunate, is far greater than Equestria’s other cities; the hustle and bustle of Bastion’s wealthiest – half of them earnest and hard-working, the other half misers and horders, aiming to minimize their expenditure as much as they feel necessary – acts as a smokescreen to conceal the impoverished and hopeless. Elite take solace in luxurious estates, several of which can be mistaken for palaces, and have the privilege of taking part in social gatherings, usually at the expense of their less-favored brothers and sisters, who are delegated to the city’s slummier areas. It required miracles for such ragtag ponies to escape their misfortune. Very few did. Miracles were so sparse. Always have been. Either a pony is born of excellent upbringing or not.

Bastion’s greatest secret, however, is its independence. With all its accumulated powers, they were enough for it to brand themselves as a separate country. The city had eventually defected from all of Equestria, declaring itself an independent nation. But gradually, this knowledge was lost in the sands of time. Very few learned of it, and soon became exclusive only to its governing and official powers. Today, this is a secret to many a pony, even to Bastion’s own monumental population.

On a Saturday evening, Bastion City Hall, a construct made of rich metals, concrete and pure gold, is closed off, its perimiters patrolled by a separate, much lesser organization – the city’s local police force. Ponies from all three Divisions are gathered for a private hearing held by their leader and Bastion’s ruler. It would have to be a critical occasion for someplace to be heavily guarded. Any trespassers would be prosecuted without question.

After an hour of waiting, the ebony doors further inside creak open. Stepping forth, a stallion of a pale gray coat. His mane and tail, strands of metallic silver that glisten with a ray of light. Eyes, a disarming violet. Dressed in a pure brown officer’s blazer decorated with badges, medals and stars. On his flank, his symbol of his purpose, his expertise – a cutie mark – a mighty fortification with a tall flag in the middle. Representing his solidity, his charisma, and his devotion to his home. His name: Lord Mercury.

He nears the stage, standing in front of the lone podium. Tapping the microphone to test its functionality. The reverberation from the speakers startles everypony in the room, who upon reaction turn to their leader with all the fervency in the world.

“Is everypony listening to me?” asks Mercury, inspecting his audience. His soldiers are all at attention, listening to him. “Good. Now I’m sure that everypony here is wondering why they’re here. Why I have called you here. There are a few things that I wish to discuss with all of you, so please bear with me.” Normally, Mercury has a tendency to draw out a situation. But for this particular hearing, he decided not to.

Beneath that role model-like character of his is a ruthless pony who refuses to be ignored. In reality, Mercury harbors a deep hatred for all of Equestria, specifically its ruler, Princess Celestia. Born in a long line of leaders, he has learned of Bastion’s independent state and the reasons behind. Unlike his ancestors, he is more open about his hatred, but not open enough to state why.

He wished to discuss and delve into this in his dissertation.

“As a lot of you know, we are set apart from the rest of Equestria. We are our own ponies. As long as we maintain our solidarity, we do not need anypony else. And we certainly don’t need their so-called princess. We do not buy into her lies. The lies that she has so gracefully spoonfed her subjects, the same ones that have left them blind.”

His words are endearing, but baffling. The soldiers in that room already know of his contempt for Celestia. This time, however, they are confused as to why he is stressing it more than ever.

Mercury is hinting on a future course of action. One that will see involvement from each and every one of his troops. Their roles, big and small. Contributive, all the same.

“Forgive my asking, Your Sovereignty,” a Pegasus stallion intrudes, hovering above the crowd along with others of his ilk. “But where’s all this headed? What do you have in store for us?”

The gray stallion doesn not take any offense in what some others would see as insolence. Instead, his lips bend into a confident grin. A smug sneer. He forwards his head straight for the microphone and states, “I’m glad you asked that, my little pony. I was just getting to that. Fillies and gentlecolts, I propose that we, the Bastion Paramilitary – no, not just the Paramilitary, but ALL of Bastion – make our presence known for Equestria to marvel at. And by marvel, I mean fear. Our numbers exceed that of the Unicorn capital Canterlot’s Royal Guard, our technology more matured. We shall wake them up from the dream they are living in! Soon, everypony, the lies that they live under will be exposed! Equestria’s populace will be enlightened in the truth. Our truth. The only truth that they need to know! And we have the power to accomplish that! Join me, my little ponies! Heed my teachings, and you will never lose your way!”

“Then, now and forever. The heart of Bastion, no force in this world can ever sever!” the crowd cheered, seconding their leader’s motion. Saluting at him with all their hearts. Every fiber that constitutes their whole being.

It began five years ago. When Mercury had stumbled across an old heirloom in his bloodline – a journal used by and passed down from his ancestors to their successors. Inscribed on the pages, records of their time, their rulership over the city. Every recording bore many similarities. The detailing of Bastion’s history – how it came to be and its continued rise in power – their shared disdain towards Celestia, whom they blame as the root of their predicament, the fact that their existence remains an illusion to Equestria, everything.

Learning such information was both enriching and distraughtly. He shared it with nopony else save for those that he felt were deserving of his trust, of which come once in a blue moon. It took him days to accept it all. His city, the ponies under his care, set apart from Equestria in more ways than one. Set apart in ways that he wish they were not set apart in.

Now his dreams will attain fulfillment. He will exact vengeance upon the nation that had turned a blind eye to their plight and their governing mare responsible. War is coming. Soon, he will overthrow both Celestia and Luna, and Equestria will be his for the taking. For him to purify.

Raising his hoof, he brings his soldiers’ applause to a halt to make one last announcement.

“Before we can proceed, I would like to call upon somepony to this platform. General Melpomene of the Army Division, please stand forward.”

From the crowd, a young mare in crimson answers the call by doing as instructed. Protruding from her officer’s cap, her glistening sapphire mane with subtile hints of a pale white. Her eyes, amber gems. And her cutie mark – two broadswords coming together to form a cross, signifying her incredibly acute senses. Her unmatched prowess on the battlefield. Melpomene of the Army Division. One of the Paramilitary’s most esteemed warriors, she holds the high honor of bearing the top rank of General – the youngest and only mare to have ever achieved the feat – which equates to the entire Army Division falling under her authority. Denoted by the five star-studded uniform she sports. Her victories in combat, plentiful. Matching her reputation among her fellow Bastion ponies. Her devotion, indescribable by mere words.

Melpomene takes to the platform, standing at attention before her superior.

“My heart and my hoof are at your service, Lord Mercury,” she says, bowing before him.

Mercury smiles, grateful. Whispering to his most trusted subject. “Thank you, my dear.” He moves back to the microphone, continuing from where he left off. “Though we have a glimpse of what the outside world is like, it is not enough. Even if it is clear to us that they are a fallen bunch, we do not know very much about Equestria or its inhabitants. What their strengths and weaknesses are. How firm their bond with one another is. We need to be well-equipped, well-informed, before plunging into the horizon. Which is why I have appointed General Melpomene of the Army Division the duty of venturing towards Equestria and collecting the information we need for us to strike. To hit them where it hurts most.” He faces her. “Melpomene, you will be responsible for crossing beyond these walls, past the distances. Gather whatever data you feel is vital to our victory. Be it the flora and fauna, the lifestyles of the ponies you encounter, the landscape, anything. But more importantly, I want you to learn everything you can about that wretched Celestia and her sister Luna. From what we have learned, their place of residence is the mountainside Unicorn city of Canterlot. I trust you. Wholeheartedly, I entrust this duty to you. Are you ready, my most prized warrior?” The last question escapes in a tone so soft, so demanding.

Anticipating the mountainous challenge ahead of her, the brash and outspoken Melpomene responds in a tone matching her leader’s. “Yes, sir. For Lord Mercury, minor or great!”

“Excellent!” returns Lord Mercury in an air of exuberance. He notices his sudden uncharacteristic burst of emotion, reverting back to his serious persona. Summoning his two secretaries with a clapping of his hooves.

Rested on the mares’ backs, two separate segments of a saddlebag that seamlessly come together through a clip at the tips of their belts. Putting both together, they adorn the young Melpomene with the saddlebag, filled with all the necessities. Eagle feathers, ink jars and specially enchanted sheets of paper to record and deliver information. A combat knife and a slingshot to defend one’s self. A supply of the finest rations: water and mostly small, wholemeal bread slices filled with exotic vegetation. Toiletries to maintain acceptable personal hygiene. A first aid kit in case of an emergency. And finally, a pouch full of money should the need for it arise. Three hundred bits.

The weight of the bag could not move Melpomene an inch. Her resolve supplied her the much needed strength to endure.

“Now go, General,” a confident Mercury orders, pointing towards the door. “Go with Bastion’s name etched into your heart. And may our forefathers ever bring you fortune.”

“I won’t fail you, my Lord.” Giving him a nod, Melpomene departs past the crowd, not looking back. She crosses the city’s acres until finally she has reached the wall-fortress. Noticing the gesture given to them, the patrolling ponies lower Bastion’s main gateway to Equestria – the five-ton metallic drawbridge. The chains cringe as the bridge makes its descent. Before her eyes Melpomene beholds the wilderness. Swallowing, she boldly rushes out, passing over the moat that encompasses the city wall.

She must not fail. She must not let everypony down. Her superiors. Her peers. The troops under her charge. None of them must feel the slightest disappointment in her. Though she may be alienated in this brave new world, she has to stay strong against the face of adversity. Her life may as well depend on it.

Two Hearts Twined Together

The clock strikes midnight. Much of Equestria have fallen into slumber. Ponies near and far have reached the end of their daily routine, retiring into their homes. The comfort of their beds. Their plump pillows, their snug, warm blankets.

For others, the day is not yet done. There is still much to do…

Ponyville, one of Equestria’s many rural areas. A humble town founded by Earth ponies but are home to those of the three races. Simple and thriving are what best describe it. Its inhabitants, nestled in houses neither too big nor too small, a lot of them distinguished by their thatched roofs. Small yet successful businesses are commonplace. A confectionery shop, a sheltering home for woodland animals, a wide marketplace for the more minute businesses and even a hectare-wide farm where agricultural activities take place, ranging from livestock breeding to the harvesting of food, just to name a few.

In the middle of these rather primitive but appreciated and purposeful structures, a large, two-storey, tree-shaped structure with windows, doors and balconies lodged on it resides. Ponyville’s local library, aptly named Golden Oaks Library. Most of it is still lit at such a late time, suggesting that its inhabitants are wide awake.

On the library’s second floor, a young Unicorn mare in a mulberry coat and deep blue mane and tail stands before a wooden desk. In front of her, a book with the thickness of a brick or two. Containing a wealth of information. Even at as late an hour as it is, there are no signs of fatigue or a dwindling will. Only a desire for knowledge. An unquenchable thirst to learn, to develop even further.

Twilight Sparkle is the young Unicorn's name. A studious and dedicated pony dispatched on a case study to understand the meaning, the value, of friendship at the behest of her caretaker-mentor, Princess Celestia of the Sun. It was the magic of friendship that gave her the clarity she now sees the world with. That made her understand what it means to have good friends to lean to. To be a good friend that anypony can lean to. But only a mere understanding of friendship is never enough. For Twilight, every single day is an opportunity to learn. And every day is precious to her; one is never sure of when his or her time on this world will cease.

“Hmm… Let’s see. Ah, here it is: the Equestrian borders,” says Twilight, fascinated at her recently encountered topic. Reading the text aloud.

“There are four borders that separate Equestria from the world’s other nations. One border in the North, one in the South, one in the East and one in the West. Cities founded on these three borders usually house piers to aid in the trade procedures between Equestria and other countries. The Western border acts as a frontier between Equestria and the Land of Griffons, home to the eponymous avian species. Olden pony folklore once told of a city settled at the edge of the Western border that was many times the size of all other Equestrian settlements combined and held majority of the country’s population. But over time, the city made its descent into obscurity until its presence became nothing more but a mirage in everypony’s minds. However, that did not stop any speculation of this city to circulate among the populace. And with this continued discourse, the name of the city is made immortal.”

Doctor World Class, 993 PB,

The shrouded city of Bastion

The last five words were ingrained in the back of Twilight’s mind. Bastion. A city forgotten by all of Equestria. Only known in name, but even the name might be false. It stunned even herself; being a very knowledgable pony, Twilight was surprised that such knowledge has passed her by.

She grows increasingly engrossed in the subject. From that one name alone, a slew of questions have appeared before her, waiting to be answered. What is this hidden city like? Is it really as large as the synopsis details? Is it simple like Ponyville, or is it based around complexities? What are its citizens like? Are they living happy lives? Are they embittered by the fact that nopony else knows about them besides themselves? Is Celestia even aware of their beinghood?

Like a thirst that burns the throat, the fixation irritates Twilight’s senses. She wants to satisfy that persisting urge. She wants to find the answers. Anxiously, she races to the bottom floor and scans the different bookshelves in hopes of finding the relevant information. A book, a set of documents, an inscription on the walls or the library’s articles, anything.

“Bastion. Bastion. Bastion,” repeats Twilight over and over as if it were a hymn sung in honor of her princesses. After five seconds, she breaks the repetition, an annoyance culminating in her. Rearing its ugly head as she continuously jolts from one shelf to another. “There has to be something about it here. Ugh! One year. Over one year I’ve been here in Ponyville, and I still don’t know from the back of my hoof where is where. Agh!”

What she has carelessly ignored is the loudness of her footsteps and groaning. They have awakened…the library’s other denizen.

“What’s going on, now?” An irritated voice queries.

The voice came from the stairs. Traversing the flight of stairs is a baby dragon of blue scales, a gray underbelly and green spines. Tucked underneath his arm, his soft white pillow. His eyes sagging; Twilight’s incessant pacing has gotten in the way of his sleep.

“Darn it, Twilight. You’re still awake?” asks the reptile, approaching Twilight. Irked. “Can’t you get some shut-eye like everypony else?”

“That’s funny coming from you. You’re awake too, Spike.” Twilight giggles at her friend’s ruffled spines.

But Spike found no humor in her joking. “You’re the one who woke me up with all your walking back and forth, you know.”

“Sorry, Spike,” the Unicorn returns. “Something in that book caught my eye and I want to learn more about it. Don’t worry. I’ll be off to bed once I’m finished looking up what I need to look up.”

“You always want to know everything do you, Twilight? What you’ve learned up to now is never enough for you, is it? You always want more. And you don’t know when to call it a day. Why won’t you realize that?”

She finds offense in that statement. A blight to her soul. Learning is her form of release. A high that makes up for her inadequacies. Her intellect is a way for her to compensate for what she lacks physically. Her falling short in physical activities. She hates being patronized, especially when it concerns these sorts of matters. For Spike to assault her in that regard pushed her to her limits.

Recounting last year’s sporting event in the autumn season, appropriately entitled the Running of the Leaves, an annual Ponyville tradition where race across the adjacent Whitetail Wood takes place to maintain the spirit of good-willed competition and to rid the forest’s trees of deciduous leaves, when she placed an impressive fifth, she remembers how she attained that prize. Through understanding the most basic concept of a race. By exerting one’s energy at the very last stretch, after the opposition has worn out. She won solely because of her intellect. It may have gotten her far then, but elsewhere would be completely different.

The hurt in her shows. Spike sees the effect of his words through a glance of her eyes, remembering why Twilight is what she is. He struck her at her most crucial areas. It was out of place for him to do something like that. To say what he said. He is tired. He is annoyed. Still, he should have known better.

“Twilight, I-I…” Spike stutters, feeling guilty.

Lifting her hoof at him, Twilight shakes her head, urging him to stop in place. “It’s alright, Spike.” It isn’t. She puts up a mask to keep him from feeling even more guilty. To keep him from seeing her at her most vulnerable. “I’ll finish up on my reading. I promise it won’t take long.” The book she had been looking for appears before her at last. Her horn aglow, she harnesses her magic to pluck the book from the shelf.

With the item obtained, she makes for the second floor, passing Spike by. Partially forgiving him, still upset at his choice of words.

Outside her balcony, she looks to the sky. Up to the multitude of stars and the waxing moon that presides over them. Is she really too eager? Is she selfish for wanting something to satisfy that which she lacks in? Do her own friends ever think of her like that?

In an attempt to erase these questions from her mind, Twilight turns to the book she had retrieved. Its title, Equestria and the World. The premise, self-explanatory. She searches the contents of the book in hopes of finding details about the city of Bastion.

By her side is Spike, whom she anticipates. Her expression is unchanged. Serious. Earnest.

“Twilight,” calls Spike, ridden with remorse. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” the Unicorn returns, trying to brush him off.

Spike persists, not pleased with her response. “Listen, about what I told you downstairs, I was tired and I didn’t know what I was doing. I hope you’re not mad, Twilight.”

“I said I’m not, alright?” With each uttered word, Twilight’s frustration builds. She can’t juggle between listening to his asking for forgiveness and concentrating on her studying.

“You don’t sound like it. Look, I’m sorry. I really am, okay? Please don’t stay mad at me, Twilight. I didn’t mean it.”

And finally… “Alright, I get it. You’re sorry. And I told you, no, I’m not mad. And if I tell you that I forgive you, will you let me finish reading this book? That way we can both get to bed? Isn’t that what you want?”

“Huh?” asks Spike, pushing Twilight over the edge. Leading her to believe that he was playing her for a fool. That he was feigning deafness. But it wasn’t directed at her. It was something else. Someone, or somepony, has found his or her way in town.

“I said don’t you want me to—”

“No, not that, Twilight. I mean over there. Look!” Spike interrupts, pointing towards the junction down below.

She sees the object – a pony walking slowly across town. By the appearance of its silhouette, it’s a mare. Her gait is slow and unsteady. Her identity, veiled by the dead of the night. The nearby streetlights, powered down, keeping her complexion, her whole outward appearance, concealed. A pony who has lost her way.

“Someone else is up this late?” a befuddled Twilight Sparkle questions, examining the mystery mare. There doesn’t seem to be anyone in Ponyville like her. Even if she cannot make out her face, she is already aware that this pony is not a resident of Ponyville. An outsider.

“Who do you think it is?” Spike queries, standing Twilight’s back in order to get a better view of things.

“I dunno. Doesn’t look like somepony who lives here.”

Before they could engage in any conversation, the silhouette slouches to the dirt ground and falls face first from her wobbling feet. She is exhausted. The systems in her body have retired for the night. She cannot stay out in the open, especially not with the temperature at its lowest; she will undoubtedly contract an illness.

Gasping, Twilight wanders her head from left to right, top to bottom. Searching for any illuminated houses, for somepony to come to the poor mare’s aid. No one. Everypony’s too tired.

“Oh dear,” cries Twilight urgently, the willingness to act becoming visible. “She’s not getting up. Nopony’s up to help her. She’ll catch a cold if she stays there the whole night. I need to get to her quickly. Spike, hold on to something.”

“To what?” Spike returns, confused.

A light red, mystic aura covers her entire horn. Twilight closes her eyes, focusing on a single magic spell and on the spell only. Drawing the needed power, focusing all of it to her horn. From her horn erupts a bright, sparking flash that transports the two from the library balcony down to the empty street.

There she is. Only a few paces away from where they both are. The mare’s visage comes into view with each step Twilight and Spike take. An opportunity presents itself, and the two capitalize on it by inspecting the fainted pony. Her coat is colored crimson, and her graciously groomed and flowing mane and tail are of a sparkling sapphire that soothes the eye. That soothes the soul. She is carrying a saddlebag with her. Retaining her propriety, Twilight repels the temptation to peek inside for its contents. And last but not least is her cutie mark: a cross formed by two swords. A cutie mark does not always have a literal meaning. If one pony possesses a cutie mark of a set of pens, it could connote a passion for endeavors involving writing skills and not strictly an obsession with pens.

Absorbing the detail, either obvious or minute, Twilight proceeds to check the mare for vital signs. The most important bodily functions. Blood pressure. Pulse. Temperature. Breathing. One can never be too careful. This is most true with a situation like this, which could end up being a game of life and death. So far, there’s nothing wrong. All signs are normal.

“She’s alright. She just passed out,” Twilight concludes, at ease. She then finds a mischievous Spike fiddling with her hair, moving it into and out of the moonlight. Captivated by the glitter dancing around as it comes into contact with the moon’s rays. Her irritation aroused, she calls to him. “Spike! Cut it out!”

“Alright, alright. Sheesh, a guy gets all curious about something and what do you do? You go all killjoy on him,” the dragon utters beneath his breath.

“Now help me with this. I’m taking her to the library so that she has someplace to stay for the night.” Whilst speaking, Twilight calls her magic forth again to levitate the stranger on her back. “Get on my back, Spike. Make sure she doesn’t fall off on the way back.”

“Got it,” says Spike, nodding affirmatively.

They make the trip back to the library. On arrival, Twilight searches the confines of the top floor for a mattress or a sleeping bag for her guest to sleep on. Conveniently, a sleeping bag lays atop her closet, and Spike is ordered to reach for it, which he promptly does.

With the smooth sleeping bag carefully spread out on the floor, Twilight proceeds to gently lift the pony off her back and wrap her in one of her spare sheets. The repeated use of magic, the travel from and to the library and her lack of sleep all begin to take their toll on the Unicorn. The very sight of her snug bed teases her.

“Time to hit the hay,” yawns Twilight, stretching her hooves out. Making for her bed. She topples on top of her sheets, feeling relieved. Relieved for lending a helping hoof to somepony in need. For finally getting her well-earned rest. “I hope she’ll feel at home here. Guess we’ll find out tomorrow. G’night, Spike.”

Following suit with his Unicorn friend, Spike retires to his straw-woven cot, wrapping his own, smaller blanket around him. The warmth of the textile writing a smile on his face. “It’s about time. G’night, Twilight.”

The last sentence spoken, all are asleep. The entire library falls into complete silence, save for its inhabitants’ snoring and whistling.

Enter Equestria

“Alright, cadets. Your new life begins today. You have been chosen among many applicants because we feel that you are a cut above the rest. No, you are not just a cut above the rest, all of you are something special. Even though some of you don’t think of yourself that way. Without further adieu, it is with great pleasure that I welcome you all to the Bastion Paramilitary. Now would everypony please file yourselves into three separate lines. One for Earth ponies, one for Pegasi and one for Unicorns.”

The first day at the Paramilitary Academy. Many of the ponies I saw were polarized between two categories. Some were ecstatic – perhaps a little too ecstatic when put into perspective – about thrusting themselves into the crux of danger, going on exciting and often perilous adventures. Serving their city, doing them justice. Others were the exact opposite; either they were drafted, dragged, even, to the Academy against their will or they reluctantly accepted as per some kind of threat issued by Bastion’s governing bodies. Not even the drill instructor’s inspiring words could dissuade these ponies’ apprehension.

I had my own reasons for participating. Although, I never disclosed those reasons with anypony. Those who I did open up to were the very few – and I do mean very few – that were deserving of my trust. Be it family or close friends, both of which I have little of. And even the ones that I knew have had a history of untrustworthiness.

We waited at the Academy’s front yard for the drill instructor to address us. To induct us into traineeship. The wait lasted for two hours, which were spent standing on the green grass. Our skin beginning to itch from the touch of their blades, and the grass and dirt both sneaking into our hoofs. Sticking out on our coat moreso than our cutie marks.

Suffice it to say, the waiting paid off. He came from out of the swinging doors of the Academy building, acting tough. He gave us that address and introduced himself to us. Hard Knocks was his name. As in that ‘school of hard knocks’ expression. He wore his name well. A middle-aged stallion sporting a light lemon coat, a sharp contrast from his surly attitude, and a teak-colored mane and tail. Similar to how his name suited him, his cutie mark suited him even more. It was a high roped wall, a common piece of equipment used in military boot camps. From there, there was a degree of foreboding for what was to come. For what challenges we were about to tackle.

From his speech, I could tell that despite the harshness of it all, Hard Knocks was to be everypony’s ray of hope in this tough environment. He was not afraid to show genuine care for his pupils. Admittedly, he did keep that display cryptic. This type of character had become recurring, and subsequently tried and worn-out, but it always had been believable.

Hard Knocks ordered us to create three single files, one for all three pony races. This was so that we could introduce ourselves to him one at a time. He started off with the line to his leftmost side, which was the Pegasus ponies line. Watching him work his way down each recruit left many of us other recruits unnerved. Contemplating on how we were to present ourselves. I was one of them. I wanted to make a good first impression. It was suffocating me. But I made it a point to never show it, lest I make a poor start to my military life by labeling myself as the laughing stock of the bunch.

When he came to me, I nearly lost my balance but was able to bounce back. My heart was pounding nonstop. But I wanted this. I couldn’t turn back. I wanted it all. To be the crème de la crème amongst my peers. To be honored and exalted by all for my actions.

“What is your name, my little pony?” he asked, his words almost sweeping me off again.

Swallowing, I recovered and gave him an answer. Bowing before him, keeping my posture. “Melpomene. My name is Melpomene, sir.”

“That is a…rare name.” Was that a complement or an insult? “You look rather…young, however. It’s easy to mistake you for a filly, you know. Tell me, Melpomene. What is your reason for your being here?”

I didn’t trust him yet. Alright, I somewhat did, but not completely. I told myself to tell him half of the reason. Only when I have eased into the cadet life and his authoritative rule would I consider letting him in.

“I was drafted here, Mister Hard Knocks. Whatever you have to throw at me, I’m prepared for it,” I answered confidently, regaining control over my nerves. “I won’t back down. I won’t betray myself or all of Bastion, sir.”

He looked at me long and hard; he has grown quite fond of my bravado. My boldness, my arrogance. Those who knew me always pointed that one aspect of me out. They always told me that it was a double-edged sword; it can serve as my biggest strength or my greatest downfall. I knew what I was capable of, and I wasn’t afraid to show it off. It gave me reassurance. Confidence in that I was worth something. If it meant everypony seeing me as an arrogant, pompous fool, then so be it.

“Music to my ears,” said Hard Knocks, delighting in my introduction to him. “A selfless dedication to our shared cause. Only day one, and you’ve got the determination we expect and welcome from you. I like that. Alright, how about you, good sir?” He moved to the next cadet.

Ticking off ‘making a good impression’ from my imagined to-do list, I swayed my head to the right, smiling. I was going to survive. If I were to do well, I would rise in the ranks as well…

There’s something soft wrapped around me. It’s a cloth-like material. A blanket, maybe. I can’t make out what it is. The only thing I can discern is the nagging exhaustion scattered across my body. My strength returning in small increments, I open my eyes to see that it is a blanket wrapped over me. But how did this get on me? More importantly, how did I end up here?

All I can recall is running. Running great lengths, hooves blazing, not wanting to pause for anything. Hunger and thirst were cast out the window. The mission I had been sent on was all that stayed fresh in my mind. Not disappointing my seniors. And then, before I knew it, I had passed out. My forced deprivation of food and water had come into full effect. Leaving me unconscious in the middle of nowhere.

I rise up to scrutinize my surroundings. It’s a room. A rather wide one. There’s a respectably large bed on my right, patterns themed after the night sky stitched on the blanket. A doorway that leads to a balcony on one side. Chatter coming in from outside, teasing my suspicions that I’m probably in a town. Just a few steps away from the bed is a wooden desk, complete with a lamp, drawers and rolled-up sheets of paper.

Moving towards the desk, I immediately come across a set of picture frames, each one containing images of all sorts of events. Probably special ones. I’m not sure. They all have one recurring content: a Unicorn with a lavender coat and purple hair. She has to be the pony living in this place. She must have taken me in for the night. But it’s too quiet. I’m the only one here.

There’s a staircase to my left. I traverse down it in hopes of finding any trace of life.

The bottom floor is far, far different from upstairs. Left and right, there are shelves filled to the brim with books. Every single one standing tall enough, their shelves well spread out to prevent the common pony from scaling them; not even I can climb them without causing at least one book to fall. And I’m very proficient at climbing. They require a ladder to scale. As an added touch, a round table sits in the middle with a statue of a horse’s head resting on it.

Further inspecting each shelf, I notice the order they are compiled in. Alphabetically and categorically. From almanacs to autobiographies of noted celebrites, some of which I am familiar with and some I’ve not even heard of. Not one book protrudes further than the other; this Unicorn must be a neat freak.

After five minutes of searching the place in its entirety, I realize that I’m by myself. A clock settled on the wall reads eleven thirty in the morning. It’s still early. Whoever lives here must be out for the day.

Considering that I’m out of Bastion’s walls and this whole town is bustling with ponies, I suppose there isn’t any harm in looking around, getting acquainted with the place. Hopefully I can learn something about what the ponies outside of Bastion are like. Whether they are duped by their Princess or not. Whether or not they are aware of her potential lies.

The first thing I see after exiting the door is the warmth of the sun. Its rays trickle my face, soothing the uneven surface of my soul. A tender breeze whistles, causing my mane to fly with the currents. When was the last time I’ve ever felt this relaxed?

All seems so sudden that I lose focus on my whereabouts. I was right. It is a town. Small yet active. And with plenty of ponies living here to boot. The structures around here are mainly houses with what look to be straws strewn over their roofs, divided by multiple dirt roads converging in intersections. Not as complex or polished as the ones back home, but they serve their purpose, I guess. One building that stands out over the others is one shaped like a cake. The town’s local sweets shop, I’m guessing. Patches of land are set apart for the growing of food. Technology here isn’t something to write home about either. Everything about this place seems old fashioned. It’s a nice break of pace from the hectic Bastion life. Nothing I can’t adjust to. And everypony here has come off as friendly. Ponies that you would not mind getting to know.

One path leads to a myriad of vendor stands; this is probably their marketplace. Commodities of all kinds put on display, either in containers slanted to give customers a good view or out in the open, on the stands themselves. Food, beverages, household supplies, utilities, you name it. It’s all here.

Seeing me pass by, one vendor peddles her wares at me. It may be best to keep my money until I find anything that is of some semblance of use, but I stay anyway to get the information I need.

“Well, good morning there, stranger,” says the vendor, enthusiastic. “Care to take a look at what’s up for sale? I’ve got every kind of greens you can think of. Some of them you won’t even find anywhere else in Equestria.” A familiar but always useful strategy. Tout about the uniqueness of your products in order to persuade your customers into buying them, whether true or false. “I’m having a special on leek and carrots today and only today. You buy a minimum of fourteen bits worth of leek or carrots and you get four bits off. What do you say there, friend? You won’t get leek and carrots like this, or even a deal like this, anywhere else.” She hums the last sentence in singsong.

She’s true to her word. But it’s not enough to get me to spend. I can’t be too harsh with my refusal of her kindness.

I slip out a chuckle and return her gesture, saying to her, “Thanks for the offer, but…I’m not in need of leek or carrots at the moment. I’ll have a think about it.” She nods in understanding, keeping that smile glued on. “Oh, and I have something to ask.”

“Ask away.”

“I’m new around here, as you can tell.” Or not. “Where am I?”

Finding hilarity in my question – there wasn’t any from where I stand – she gives me an elaborate answer. “Why you’re in lovely little Ponyville. Founded by our Earth pony ancestors, we take pride in what we do and what we are. I could go into detail about our little history, but everything about Ponyville speaks for itself.”

Ponyville… What a funny choice for a name. It does make sense in some way.

“Ponyville, huh?” I return, stroking my chin in deep thought. “That’s a…pretty interesting way to name your town.”

“It’s strange at first, yeah,” responds the vendor, sharing in my sentiment. “But it will grow on you. Don’t worry.” I’m sure it will. Ponyville…

The confectionery shop from a while ago is not so far from where I am. A lot of ponies are bound to be there. Maybe even more than this bazaar. A wellspring of information. My next destination determined, I bid the vendor farewell, waving at her while walking.

The doors swing open for me, but all there is is pitch-black darkness. Searching for a switch is out of the question since I’m not yet accustomed to this town and everything in between. I feel thumping noises through my hooves. Heartbeats, with no chatter. I’m not alone. There’re a lot in this room. Is this a well-planned surprise attack? Is Ponyville’s merry nature nothing but a ruse? I can’t tell.

I hear a clicking sound, and the lights turn on; somepony’s flicked the switch. Revealing itself before my very eyes is a colorfully-decorated enclosed area. Helium-inflated balloons float to the ceiling. Long strands of streamers lay scattered on the ground, inadvertently tangling themselves around my legs. A buffet table sits by the sidelines, hosting a punch bowl, a chocolate fountain, cupcakes, cookies and the like. Don’t these foals have any consideration for their health? No, a better question would be… What is this all about?

On the farmost wall of this surprisingly huge shop is a sign that says ‘Welcome to Ponyville’. That could mean anything. The most likely meaning could be that I’m the guest of honor. Whoever put this even together must have been driven by the intent of making me feel at home here. That isn’t really paying off; I’m only confused.

“Surprise!” cries everypony in the room.

Most of the townsfolk must be here celebrating. Really, there’s not much to celebrate. An outsider coming for a visit can’t be that big of a deal.

This feels very uncomfortable.

Amidst my confusion, somepony approaches. An Earth mare with a puffy pure raspberry mane and tail, a bright pink coat and an even brighter mood. The cutie mark on her flank, three balloons. How fitting. She’s bouncing up and down. Nothing seems capable of ruining her day.

“Hey there, stranger,” she says, addressing me cheerfully. “You look like you’re from out of town, so I decided to throw this party just for you. A ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party. And everypony here’s invited. Over there is where we’re playing the games we have planned out. That over there is the buffet table. It’s got all of my favorites and a few of everyone else’s favorites so that no one feels left out. I don’t know what you want, but I hope you don’t feel left out.” Yeesh! Talk about talktative. She can’t even remember to pause for a breath. “Like what I’ve done?”

It’s a friendly, and albeit unexpected, gesture. She’s eager to be my first friend here. I’m also eager to form new bonds. And I am thankful for this little feast.

“Um, yeah,” I say, still adjusting. Still astonished. “It’s…a surprise.” That is the biggest understatement I think I’ve ever heard. “Looks like you went through a lot to put all this together. I’m amazed.” My mouth curves into a light smile.

“I’m glad you are. Oh, I almost forgot. My name’s Pinkie Pie. And you are?”

“Melpomene. Call me Melpomene,” I answer reluctantly as she leads me through the massive crowd of ponies.

She’s taking me to the back end of the shop. On the way there, she continues on with her gabbing. I give her my undivided attention while looking around at the decorations.

“That’s a nice name you’ve got, Melpomene,” this…Pinkie Pie complements. “Oh, you won’t believe the trouble I’ve been through to put this together. First I saw you leaving the library and I asked myself ‘who in Equestria is that?’” She was stalking me all this time? That’s very discomforting. What’s more disturbing is my inability to feel her presence. “Then I—”

I interrupt her and say, “W-wait a minute. You. Were. Following me? And I didn’t even notice you?”

“Yeah,” admits Pinkie Pie uneasily. “Sorry for not giving you the heads up.” She resumes with her little tale. “Anyway, after I saw you, I filled up my good ol’ Party Cannon and reserved all of Sugarcube Corner, which is where we are, and set this all up. Then I got almost everypony here in Ponyville. I didn’t have time to explain; this is where I got the most trouble. My friends came without asking, but it was hard asking everypony else to come. Luckily, most of them did come.” I find any of this hard to believe. Nopony can single-hoofedly organize a party this large, not even with some special tool like that cannon Pinkie mention. Equestria is such a strange place. At least, that’s what it’s coming off as so far. Not that it’s a bad thing. “Oh, and speaking of my friends, here they are now.”

Pinkie points to a round dining table surrounded by five mares roughly of my age. This is the circle of friends that she was referring to not too long ago. They’re an eclectic group. Two ponies of each race.

An Earth mare in an orange coat and blonde hair, wearing a cowboy hat. Her cutie mark is a set of three apples.

A sky blue-coated Pegasus sporting a rainbow-like spectrum for a mane and tail. A rainbow-colored lightning bolt shot from a cloud acts as her cutie mark.

A faultless white Unicorn with flowing violet hair. On her flank, her cutie mark of three gemstones.

A Pegasus donning a butter-colored coat and grayish cyan hair. Three butterflies lay printed on her flank as her cutie mark.

The last pony in this set startles me. It’s the lavender Unicorn who brought me into her library. She herself is surprised at the sight of me. Sitting on her back, a tiny, blue-scaled lizard-like thing. I’ve read about these things. Dragons. Said to be of miniature size at a young age, but grow into the magnificent beasts that they’re destined to be after fully maturing. They indulge themselves with a vast wealth of precious and often elusive gemstones, the main component of their diet; I once thought that their diet consisted exclusively of meat.

Joining the circle, Pinkie introduces me to each one, going in order of left to right.

“Melpomene, I’d like you to meet the friends I was telling you about. This is…”

The honest, hard-working farmgirl Applejack. “Howdy there, sugarcube. Hope ya feel all cozy here’n li’l ol’ Ponyville.” She speaks with a thick, ranch-like accent.

Rainbow Dash, the athlete among the six of them. A master flier and, according to her, a future member of the prestigeful aerial squad, the Wonderbolts. “Nice to meetcha, Mel. You’re okay with me calling you ‘Mel’, are you?”

Resident fashion designer, Rarity. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, er… Melpomene, was it?”

Fluttershy, the soft-spoken yet compassionate Pegasus. “Um… Hello there. Nice to, erm…meet you. Welcome to Ponyville…”

And lastly, the intelligent and gifted in the field of magic, Twilight Sparkle. “Y-you’re… You’re the one who collapsed last night. I couldn’t leave you out there, so I brought you into the library. How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright. I’m feeling better. I appreciate the concern…and for giving me a place to crash for a while. Thank you.” I bow my head to her.

Is that the best I can really do? A mere ‘thank you’? I owe this unicorn my life. She took me in when it seemed like it was the end for me.

Back in Bastion, if you’re left for dead in the busy streets, you’re guaranteed to die. The bitter cold of the night and the unrelenting heat of the day will make quick work out of you. And even quicker work if you’re afflicted with a disease or are hungry or thirsty.

“So you’re the pony Twilight brought to the library the other night,” says Rarity. “We were just talking about you. You must have felt so alone, traveling a long way. Only to end up here. It was very nice of her to go out of her way for somepony who needs help.”

It was more than nice. She saved my life. That’s something that will last for quite a while. This is a good start. It’s relieving to know that I already have somepony to turn to in this place.

“Come on’ere ‘n sit a spell, Mel,” Applejack invites, making room for one more.

“Yeah. Friends of Twilight’s are friends of ours,” Rainbow Dash adds. “And we want to get to know you a little.”

If that means letting them in on my life, then I will have to turn the offer down. Yes, Twilight saved me. She allowed me into her home. But that’s not enough for anypony to gain my trust. And everything here still feels alien to me, anyway.

An itch rises on my throat, giving me an incentive to decline. “Thanks for the offer, everypony. But I gotta go grab something to drink first,” I do so politely, wearing my smile the whole while. I direct myself to the buffet table to get myself a glass full of punch. The combination of peach, lime and blackcurrant extracts release my throat from the stubborn itch. The delicacies do look appealing, though. Specifically, it’s the cookies that are teasing me with their warm scent. Chocolate chips protruding out of them. Passing me by, the other invited guests bidding their greetings. My stomach gruntles, telling me to snatch whatever I can consume. Reminding me of my stubbornness for neglecting my hunger and thirst.

Heeding its instructions, I grab one paper plate from the pile and proceed to pluck as much pastries as possible. Several pieces passing over the rim, close to falling off. My plate has transformed into a mountain of sugary goodness. Enough to keep a family preoccupied for days. For weeks to come. Noticing me finishing up at the tables, the circle of six wave at me, inviting me to join them. Hesitantly I accept. As I near their table, I form an approach to this. Until I’m accommodated to this town and its villagers, everything about me will remain hidden from them. From everyone. They may pester me to death about it, but they have no choice but to put up with my decision. Rarely, if ever, do I confide in anypony. Time will tell if I can confide in these six.

Day One - Getting Familiar

Twilight Sparkle – More in Common

It’s Tuesday, half past noon. The busiest day of the week for me and Spike. Most of my workload is allocated to this specific day. I’m just nearing the end of my weekly library cleaning routine. All that’s left is to return one certain book to its designated shelf – Equestria and the World. The book I happen to be reading in the past two days.

I find it resting on my bed, taking it with me through the use of my magic. The book slides snuggly into the empty slot, marking the end of our clean-up.

Spike himself has finished his share of the load. His duty was to handle the dictionaries category of the library. Fortunately for him, Melpomene has offered a helping hoof. With her help, he completed his work quicker than usual.

Over a day has elapsed since I took Melpomene in. I can’t say much about her because I don’t know her that well yet. She’s a quiet pony, though. More quiet than Fluttershy, which I found odd. She hasn’t told me anything about her. Who she is, where she hails from, what her cutie mark means. But she seems to be the friendly type. There’s nothing peculiar about her. She hasn’t done anything that can arouse suspicion.

That being said, I am interested in knowing about her. I’ve done what I can to give her a good impression on Ponyville and us folk as a whole. Hopefully that will be enough for her to come out of her shell.

She sits on one of the steps, deep in thought. Whatever she’s thinking must be important enough to excuse her from starting a conversation.

I look around the library, making sure that all is in place. That no stone is left unturned.

“Thanks again for helping, Melpomene,” I say to her, wanting to break the silence.

“It’s no biggie,” she says kindly. I will commend her for her frankness. For being honest with the very few things she says. “Cleaning up this whole place must be a pain in the ass, huh?”

“Not really.” Another topic springs into mind. I bring it up, cautious not to cause Melpomene any discomfort from it. “You haven’t been talking much lately, Mel. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Giggling slightly at my show of concern, she returns. “Yeah, I think I know when I’m having an off-day, thank you very much.” That’s the first time I’ve had a taste of her sense of humor. She sounds engaged in this little talk. “So you told me that you and Spike were from Canterlot. That’s actually where I was originally headed. What’s it like there?”

My friends and I expressed ourselves to her the other day. We told her in full almost everything about us. I myself explained to her how Spike and I came to be. How we ended up here. My status as prized student to Princess Celestia; she was intrigued when she heard that.

The capital of Canterlot. Founded by Unicorns, one of Equestria’s oldest cities. I tell her of the city in great detail. Pictures of these aspects surface in my brain as I describe them word by word. A majestic metropolis that rests on the side of the mountains, watching over its neighboring cities, towns and villages. Much of its Unicorn dwellers, upper crust. To the point of meticulousness. Myself, included; I’m a nitpicker. The general architecture there are akin to spires, their appeal enhanced by their technicolor roofs. Often costing fortunes and can only be afforded by so few.

Canterlot Castle is where Princess Celestia and Princess Luna reside. The city’s hallmark, it soars above all others, and one can get a magnificent view of Equestria atop its watchtower.

As I reach the end of my diatribe, one more image appears before my eyes.

I’m standing in a scenery covered in grayscale. Then I see myself, as a filly, in a room fit for a foal. My old room. My parents were fast asleep by then.

I was just about to fall asleep, too. I peered out of my room, witnessing the pouring rain slam against the window restlessly. Feeling uneasy, I proceeded to tuck myself into my blanket…until a deafening lightning strike rendered me paralyzed. Causing me to scream loudly, causing a shiver to course through my body. I held the blanket against my face, crying.

Then I heard footsteps from the open door of my room. From the hallway right outside. A familiar shadow crawled up the wall. Its owner came into view once he appeared.

My older brother, Shining Armor. My B.B.B.F.F – Big Brother Best Friend Forever. A white, blue-haired unicorn stallion. The only pony I’ve ever confided in during my childhood. We did everything together. We shared everything. Our times of triumph, our times of sadness. Whenever I cried, he would cry along with me. When I rejoiced, we both rejoiced. Not once has he let me down. He was more than a friend. More than a brother. So much more.

At times I regretted leaving him, leaving for Ponyville. I had left a piece of me when I left him. But it was the path set for me. He had his own. I did not question my fate. The inevitable. And neither did he.

“Twily? You okay?” asked Shining Armor. He drew himself close to me, crouching down to my level. He whispered to my ear, calming me down. “There there. It’s just a storm. It’ll go away eventually.”

“I hate storms,” I muttered, sniffling. “Those dumb Pegasi. Why did they have to bring a storm now? At night?”

“None of the Pegasi are at fault. They’re behind schedule again and they need to catch up.” He caressed me softly by the mane. Each stroke silenced the sniffling and sobbing until they were no longer heard. Making me see both sides of the scenario more clearly. “If you want, I can stay here with you until you go to sleep.”

The rain would have kept me awake if he hadn’t made the offer. It was particularly louder than any other rain that year. And I did want some company by my side.

A warm smile appeared on my face as I told him, “I’d like that. But what about you, B.B.B.F.F? What if I don’t fall asleep fast enough? How’re you gonna get some sleep?”

“I will, Twilight. I’ll go to bed soon.”

I look to the window at my left, pictures of me and Shining Armor occupying my mind. I have not heard from him since the crisis at the Crystal Empire. He must be leading a happy life with his beloved wife. My former foalsitter, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Or Princess Cadence. Would he ever consider coming here to Ponyville? Have they thought about going the distance just to pay me a visit?

I’m happy for him. But nothing feels the same after their wedding. Since then, I’ve become worrisome. Shining Armor and Princess Cadence may be too fixated with each other that I might become nothing more but a pleasant memory to them. They did mention their interest in starting a family of their own. Cadence in particular was ecstatic about having her own children. Somepony else to carry on their legacy. If that does become a reality, then so will my fears of them erasing me from their lives.

Not wanting the undue distress, I dispose of the thought. I would never forget about Shining Armor, so why should I be in any position to think that he would forget about me?

Tch! Here I go again. I’m derailing from the topic at hand. It’s one quality of me that I wish changed somewhat. My desire to learn, my fixation on things, they have a way of being counterproductive. A nuisance in some cases. It’s embarrassing, especially when you’re surrounded by friends, family, or worse, ponies you don’t know.

“Twilight?” asks Melpomene, pulling me out of my thoughtful haze. Only then do I notice her standing at my right. “Is something bothering you?”

Rebounding from my absent-mindedness, I give her a quick response. “No. It’s nothing.”

We walk away from the window and right to the large, round table with the wooden horse’s statue.

“That’s Canterlot in a nutshell, huh?” Melpomene questions, astounded by my descriptions. “I’m liking what I’m hearing. He’s definitely gonna want to hear about this.”

‘He’… That came off rather unexpectedly. It didn’t sound like she said it by accident. She’s running an errand for somepony.

“Who’s…‘he’?” I ask, the mention of Melpomene’s friend piquing my curiosity.

An accidental slip of information or not, there’s no reason for her to hide anything anymore. She already let out a hint, so there’s no reason for her to stop now.

“The leader of my city. Where I come from,” says Melpomene calmly. Making that first step to revealing her whole self. “The city of Bastion.”

Bastion… The name catches me off guard. I’ve read about it not too long ago. A city rumored to be situated near Equestria’s western shoreline. A city that houses much of our country’s population. Everything about this shrouded city is said to be more developed than any other place in Equestria. The discoveries they have made are never shared beyond their walls. Over time, everything about the city was soon forgotten. At least that’s how it was explained in those books I’ve read. Besides this, I don’t know much.

This is my chance to know both Melpomene and this city called Bastion. If I ruin it, I may not get another. I won’t get another.

“Bastion, huh?” I ask curiously, putting myself under the pretense of ignorance. Pondering on the topic, managing to come off as convincing to her.“Hmm. Nope, the name doesn’t ring a bell. What’s it like?”

Pacing back and forth, Melpomene tells me of her home, taking pride in what she says.

Though a community settled on Equestrian land, they have long since defected from their motherland. Symbolized by the city’s encompassing wall that was built with the sole purpose of repelling and punishing tresspassers. They have declared their independence and have since thrived on nothing but one another. Little by little, they grew in many aspects. From natural resources to government powers to technology to architecture…even the founding of a Paramilitary organization. She calls it an intricately-structured system where civilian ponies are recruited and trained yearly to serve the city. Broken down into three individual divisions – Army for Earth ponies, Air Force for Pegasi and Intelligence for Unicorns.

For centuries they have professed their freedom from the rule of the Royal Pony Sisters. And their current leader, Lord Mercury, harbors an unfathomable hatred for Celestia; this left me puzzled. What his reasons are for despising her, I have no idea. And neither does Melpomene.

It’s disheartening to hear this story from start to finish. Somewhere out there is an entire society of ponies. All of whom I’m sure are just like us. Every one of them, forsaken by their own kind. Their very last remnant is their name, and none can even be sure if that name is the correct one.

“That’s kind of…sad,” I say in answer to her tale, then add beneath my breath. “Princess Celestia… Are you hiding something from me?” After a second or two, I address Melpomene, taking the opportunity to get as much out in the open as possible. As necessary. “What about you, Melpomene? What are you like? What do you do for a living? What brings you here?”

“Me? I am from the Bastion Paramilitary. The cutie mark on my back is a mark of my strength and my perseverance. That’s what Lord Mercury told me, anyway.” I never was able to put my hoof around the meaning of her cutie mark. Until now.

“You’re in the Paramilitary?” I ask.

“Yup. I am Lord Mercury’s most faithful disciple. If it weren’t for him, I never would have gotten in. I’m also the General of the Army Division. The youngest to ever get that rank. I command the entire Army, and my soldiers are my responsibility. You can think of them as kind of like a family.” Melpomene sounds rather boastful about this claim. Perhaps it’s justified, with what she said. And she has been honest with me so far.

I’m beginning to think that this all feels too sudden to take in. One important detail after another is pouring out of her mouth.

An entire squad of soldier ponies are under her command. Each one of them, herself included, go out and risk their lives fighting battles, engaging in dangerous missions, in the name of their proud home. Just like the Captain of Canterlot’s Royal Guard. Just like my brother, Shining Armor. Regardless of her state of power, she holds her troops dear to her. Again, like how my brother treats his fellow troops.

She must be so humble to come this far instead of issuing this task to one of her soldiers. Or maybe she’s the noble kind. A pony who charges in head-first to the jaws of danger, refusing any unwanted sacrifices from her troops. I find it admirable.

“And you’re a general, too?” I ask, intrigued. “Whoa. All that fighting and ordering around. That must be tough. I could never be cut out for such a dangerous job.”

“When you live in a place that can get as messy as Bastion can get at times, you learn to suck all the sour stuff up.” Melpomene looks down after uttering that, looking despondent.

That came off in a bitter tone. It’s probably her way of giving me a glimpse of Bastion’s problems. Its imperfections. The blacker side to what would otherwise have sounded like the perfect life to lead. City life surely has a whole slew of hardships. Melpomene must have had endured some of them. Whatever unpleasant memories she’s had about them are reemerging. The frustration, the sadness in her amber eyes, shows it.

Now might not be a good time to continue this discussion. I tuck away my future questions and fall into the same silence that Melpomene has sunk into.

It is not too long until that silence is crushed in one fell swoop by the thumping footsteps of my long-time dragon friend Spike.

He enters from the kitchen passageway, carrying with him a tray with three champagne glasses filled to the top with freshly-squeezed drinks. Worn around his neck is his dainty pink apron, which he doesn’t wear as frequently as he used to on the account of him being made fun of. Rarely does he wear it because he’ll be mocked for being the “frilliest dragon this side of Equestria has ever known”. It’s a shame. My friends and I encourage him to wear it more often again, as he looks endearing in it. It makes him stand out from all other dragons and the stereotypes associated with them. When he wears something like that apron, it makes everypony see him not as the brutes that dragons usually are, but as the dragon he really is. The kind baby dragon I raised him as. The one my friends and I love. Even with some of his boneheaded actions, like the scathing remarks about me that he bravely said.

No, I have not forgiven him yet. Such wounds take time to heal. They can’t be tampered with. But reflecting on his softer side does help in closing up the scars, quickening the process. And I’ve never stayed mad at him for longer than usual. I’ll forgive him, but not immediately.

“Anypony want my homemade juices? They’re as fresh as they come and as cool as cool can be, so get them while the ice hasn’t melted yet,” says Spike enthusiastically, as if he were showcasing his, er…unique talents for sale.

“He’s not kidding,” I add, chortling at Spike’s glee. “Spike has a thing with finding only the best of the best. Not just gems, but anything you can think of.”

“Impressive,” Melpomene compliments, amused. “Never met a dragon who’s so…crafty. Never met a dragon at all, to be honest. I’ll take a glass.”

Setting my horn alight, I grab a glass of my own. Slowly and thoroughly do I consume my juice; I alternate between that and meditating upon Melpomene’s blurb.

There are many more similarities between me and this strange pony than I expected. I’m a disciple of Celestia, and she is a disciple of her leader.

I’m on a mission to learn about the meaning of friendship. What it is to have a friend by your side. Somepony who is there to be your solace in the direst of times. Everyday, there’s something new for me to learn. Everyday, I share my findings with my mentor, who has entrusted me this task.

Melpomene, on the other hoof, is also on a mission of her own. A duty entrusted to her by her mentor. What it is, I’ve yet to discover.

I trust her, though. And she herself is beginning to trust me. I know that whatever it is she’s up to won’t lead to something catastrophic. She’s merely doing as she is instructed. She doesn’t seem to take any interest in Mercury’s vendetta, despite her undying loyalty to him.

But I’m still bothered. I don’t recall Princess Celestia being secretive. Never do I recall her hiding important facts. Things that should be public knowledge. Not to me, that is. She’s always been open and frank. There has to be an explanation as to why Lord Mercury hates her. I refuse to believe otherwise.

Although…

“Twilight,” intrudes Melpomene, prodding my side.

“Yeah?” I reply.

Reluctantly, she forwards her question. “Would you, um… I’m not trying to impose but, would you mind taking me to Canterlot and show me around? I’d like to see the place for myself, but chances are I might get lost easily.”

She wants me to take her to Canterlot. To be her tour guide around my hometown.

From her request alone, my suspicions are stimulated. I could not suppress my uncertainty. From that uncertainty, I am bombarded by an array of questions. Queries begging to be answered, unable to wait another second.

What if Celestia really is hiding something? Is there some kind of history between her and the city of Bastion that nopony knows? That everypony should know? That I should know?

“Sure, why not?” I gladly answer her, putting up a smile to conceal an ulterior motive. My request for an audience with Celestia. As icing to the cake, I round off my answer, saying, “It’s been a while since I’ve gone back home, anyway. And you, Spike? Wanna come along?”

“Eh, I guess. Not like I have any other choice. Has been a while,” he says without a trace of second thoughts.

So it’s settled. We depart for Canterlot come next weekend.

Applejack – A Taste of Simplicity

My stay here in Ponyville hasn’t been long, but I’ve warmed up to a lot of the villagers. Everypony has come off as inviting and nice. Not stuffy like how Bastion can be at times, especially with their upper crust citizens; their uptight attitude gets to me on occasion. It pisses me off how they turn molehills into mountains. How they make a large fuss over an uneven strand of their mane and things like that. Everypony here’s the opposite. It’s refreshing.

Life here looks simple. There isn’t a lot of convolution here; their daily routine is approached without assistance from technology. They don’t need the help of a motorized walker or some complicated contraption to go from point A to point B. Almost everything here is done manually. It’s another refreshing sight. In that regard, I feel more at home here; I still can’t wrap my head around something so misleadingly simple as a lawnmower that runs on electricity.

But when it all boils down to their inhabitants, they’re not so different, Bastion and Ponyville. Beyond the advancements and the complications, ponies from both settlements live lives that are very similar in many respects. Families to tend to. Ambitions that the youth hope to reach once they grow older. Occupations that provide them a source of income. A similar range of emotions that are experienced everyday, some very pleasant, others not so much.

My approach to this stay is simple, but still requires a calculated approach. The following days will be spent getting to know the first friends I’ve made here: Twilight Sparkle and her circle of friends. What they’re like, who they are and so on. Conversely, if it is demanded of me, I will let them in on myself as well. Be it my hopes and dreams, my past experiences, my allegiances, my occupation, anything.

There is one exception that I have kept sacred. No one can learn of the true nature of my agenda until I feel the time is right. No one. Until then, my mission remains strictly confidential. Between me and Lord Mercury, and only between us.

Two o’clock, on my second day outside of Bastion’s walls. A pleasant Tuesday afternoon with the sun smiling down upon us. With nary a cloud in sight.

I’ve just recently come out of Ponyville’s local library and helping Twilight Sparkle with her cleaning chores. Next on my checklist is Ponyville’s local farm – Sweet Apple Acres. As suggested by its name, it is an acre-long farm range that provides villagers with its main food supply, where most of the town’s manual labor takes place. Owned and operated by the Apple Family. This easily surpasses any farm in Bastion in terms of size.

With a farm as enormous as this, the workers are going to have their work cut out for them. I’ve volunteered to help with the family’s usual harvesting, both as a way to learn about worklife and to know one of Twilight’s friends. In this case, it’s the resident earnest, hard-working farm girl, Applejack.

“Thank ye kindly fer givin’ us a helpin’ hoof, Mel,” says Applejack as we march up the hilly orchard, hauling with us wagons to lug around the different fruits and vegetables that are to be harvested. “Ah sure appreciate it. Farm work’s fun’n all, but gets borin’ w’out somepony ta talk to.”

“Glad to help out a friend,” I respond to her warmly, growing comfortable in saying that last word. “Besides, it’ll be a nice way to know more about the town. How does this applebucking go again? You just kick a tree and let those apples fall on your wagon, right?”

“That’s right. But ya gotta kick as hard as ya can. It ain’t easy ta get down at first, but it’s possible. Ah’mma give ya a li’l demonstration once we get up that there hill.”

I certainly could use a demonstration. I’m a decently-paced learner, but I learn quicker when seeing something in practice as opposed to just being told the instructions.

After two more minutes of walking, we reach the top of the hill. There’s an abundance of apple trees in this side of the orchard. Half of them have glistening red apples, the sun’s burning light bouncing off of them. And the other half has green ones, also of a reflective finish. They look ripe and newly-matured. Applejack should be showing me the proper methods to this ‘applebucking’ technique, which she says has more to it than simply kicking a tree senseless.

Making for one of the red apple trees, Applejack addresses me, ready to show me the correct method to collecting the dangling bounty.

“Watch ’n learn, Mel,” instructs Applejack, moving back from the tree a few paces.

Step by step, she shows exactly how to applebuck. First is to inch away enough from the tree. Next is to raise one’s rear hooves as high as one can. And finally, thrust the hooves straight for the tree at full force to ensure that every last apple is shaken off of their branches. The higher the hooves are before kicking, the better. So long as one can maintain her balance. Certain trees also have hollow spots that can be exploited and struck for greater effect, which makes collecting the apples easier.

A cascade of red pours from the tree as Applejack’s hooves make the impact. Each one lands perfectly in her wagon. She hasn’t broken a sweat. It’s no surprise that she’s used to this type of work.

“Whoa,” I utter, speechless. Amazed at her strength. Leading her to cross one hoof over the other, as though she were being applauded.

“Yer turn, Melpomene,” says Applejack. “Now don’t feel bad n all f’ya don’t get it right the first time. Summa mah friends still ain’t got it down, yet.”

Nodding to her once, I take to a green apple tree, remembering Applejack’s lesson. At the right distance away from the tree, I rear up my back hooves high enough and kick…and miss. I feel my face reddening in embarrassment. The slight incline I’m standing on made it harder. That wasn’t fair. Why didn’t Applejack warn me about trying to applebuck on slopes before she told me to give it a try?

The cowpony giggles at my mishap. Hardy har har, I say inside. Suffice it to say, I’m not at all amused.

“Like Ah said, applebuckin’s tricky. Don’t get all glum just ‘cos ya didn’t get it right the first time. Remember, Mel. Balance. Keep yer balance’n y’all be fine.”

Balance. The key word here is balance. If I can maintain that on this inclince, then I should get the hang of it.

This tree has a hollow spot right in the middle. I lift my hooves again, aiming for that hollow area. With my back towards the tree, it’s hard to pinpoint where I’m going to hit. I intend on getting it right this time. Nothing more, nothing less.

With all my might, both hooves lunge for the tree. Apples and leaves rain down from the branches, landing directly in my wagon. The hit was harder than I needed it to be.

“Well,” says an overly enthusiastic Applejack. “That’s some fine applebuckin’ there. Yer a fast learner, Mel.” Not fast enough, I think to myself. I usually get things right the first time around. “Yer not a cowpony bah any chance, r’ya?”

“Not that I remember,” I reply, chuckling at the idea of me being a cowpony.

“Ah gotta say, Ah’m feelin’ a might bit jealous. Ah repeat, a. Might. Bit.” She stresses on those three words a little too much. Maybe to remind me that she’s still the cowpony of Ponyville no matter what. “Tell ya what. Once we get this whole orchard done before sundown, yer invited ta have’n afternoon snack w’us.” By us she means her family here in the farm.

“That’s kinda nice of you, Applejack. Sure, I’ll join you.”

The more I know about the ins and outs of this whole town, and Equestria as a whole, the better. Sitting down with Applejack and her whole family will be a nice way to collect the information I need.

Applejack and I cross this entire section of Sweet Apple Acres, going from one tree to the next. Collecting everything they have to offer, leaving not one unnoticed. We’re making progress at a solid pace. Each apple tree we happen upon is a chance for me to refine my applebucking. Even Applejack agrees that I’m getting better. Supposedly, I’m learning quicker than she has. It makes her envious. But we know that it won’t change her being Ponyville’s local workhorse.

The day gradually unwinds. With each passing minute, I reflect on earlier this afternoon. When I came here to the farm. When Applejack introduced me to her family.

She’s the middle child in a family of three.

Her older brother, Bic McIntosh, prefers to let his actions speak for himself. He’s more laid-back than his sister will ever be. The kind of stallion who makes careful considerations before doing anything. The few words that come out of him have some compelling power behind them that I can’t accurately describe. Otherwise, he doesn’t really talk that much. I’d say he’s too caught up with working everyday, almost non-stop, to even do so.

Thankfully, he isn’t the brooding type; I cannot stand them. When you look at them, you immediately know that they concentrate on one thing for too long. I swear that their silent act is a tactic to get the attention of every mare or filly he comes across. And even if them being quiet all the time isn’t an act, it’s annoying to hear them make an excuse to get away from fellowshipping with everypony else. I’ll admit that I fall to that same stupor on occasion. My thoughts are unorganized at times. That’s something about me I absolutely hate. Something about the that wish I could change. Among other things…

And then there’s the youngest of the Apple family, Apple Bloom. She’s still a foal, but she’s born with a soaring spirit that never dies. That adventurous nature that makes the elderly envious beyond words. Calling her determined is such an understatement. She’s always out there searching for her purpose, her destiny. Her cutie mark. I can imagine the lengths she will go to find it. It worries me that she might not have any boundaries. That her willingness to search will work against her at some point. What a headache all this must give to her brother and sister.

The slums of Bastion at night were one of the few places in the otherwise magnificent city one would not dare enter. Ponies who delegated themselves there were haggard and empty, monetarily and morally. Their lives on the mortal plain were defined by their constant scavenging for the most menial objects that would enable them to live another day. Whether acquiring them through asking passers-by or searching through garbage.

And where the beggars were none, pickpockets and hoodlums ran rampant. Several of them have formed their own factions, believing that their chances of survival were improved when in numbers. These symbioses escalated into all-out conflicts with each other for control over their territories. And eventually, the entire slums. This was made better by the fact that the slums were not part of the local police force’s jurisdiction.

I was among the few who didn’t take sides. It basically meant you were easy pickings for the gangs. Whatever you found, you would relinquish it to any gang member should they demand it from you. Otherwise, they end your life on the spot. I wasn’t scared of them. There was no point in being scared in thugs. Ponies who do what they do because deep inside, they’re just as scared as, or probably more than, the ones they terrorize.

Almost everypony living there found it ironic that I, a stubborn filly who had not earned her cutie mark, had the audacity to oppose against the idea of forming groups and fighting for control. To them, they thought it was a bold move. My independence was noteworthy to them. The only pony I needed to depend on was myself and my family. That was it, nothing else. No random Joe Schmoe or Jane Doe.

It was that time of the week again. That time when the upper class ponies would dump their crap on us. To them, our home is their garbage can. We were the compactor that did away with whatever they disposed of. For a lot of us, it was a case of ‘somepony’s trash being another’s treasure’. Most of us were tolerant to our fate, but to turn our only form of refuge into their dumpster for convenience’s sake is where the line is drawn. We all thought the same thing. But none of us ever ponied up to Lord Mercury and told him of our predicament. We were too complacent. We allowed them to get away with their own complacency.

That night, I was running. Running away from one of the gangs, whom I had stolen from. Stolen back from, to be more accurate. One of the rarer finds among the usual heap of trash was an antique lamp. It was still in working condition. The only reason I could formulate for the original owner getting rid of it was that he or she was too lazy to get it repaired. A lot of them always were. Hoarders. Afraid of losing a single bit.

Earlier that day, I discovered that lamp. I only picked the best of the best, and that lamp was it. Two options presented themselves. One options was that I could use the lamp to give me a source of light, one that would last a long time if all went accordingly. Another was that I could sell it off for a hefty price. I knew it had to be the former choice. Food was rather plentiful all over Bastion, including the dilapidated areas. Power sources were also present everywhere. It was high time that those sources were put to use.

Before I made do with the lamp, I was surrounded by one of the gangs. Their self-proclaimed leader was recognizable to anyone with the misfortune to know him. His rugged build alone was intimidating, but his voice could make a whole village tremble. His chestnut coat, his ruffled teal mane and his nail bat cutie mark added to the overall effect. Anypony who met him had his name engraved in their minds: Rough House.

All I ever saw in him was a deluded, hulking idiot who was no better than the misers who dump their trash on us. Everypony was the same to him: inferior. Including Lord Mercury. Nothing about him was likable.

He demanded the lamp from me. Naturally, I refused, standing my ground. He told me I was going to regret it; I did. I regretted not thinking things through. Forgetting about his lackeys surrounding me from every side. He ordered them to hold me tight so that he could get to work. He struck me with his hooves, aiming for the areas that would hurt most. I felt each strike landing mostly on my face and my stomach. It lasted for a minute. Then they finally left me, laughing as they departed. Nopony to help me up. When I came to, the lamp was gone. I was going to get it back. He was going to regret concerning himself with me.

This theft was my way of not just getting the lamp back, but getting back at Rough House. I didn’t leave their turf without leaving behind a parting gift, something for them to remember me by. An entire bag of garbage dumped on their heads.

I was running. They were hot on my trail. I was on the home stretch of my trip back home. And there it was along an alleyway to the left: a tainted and torn tent suspended against the adjacent walls by many strips of tape.

They had caught up with me. It was only a matter of time before they did. All of them looked furious. Creeping up to me, wanting to pry the lamp off of my grasp.

“End of the line, kiddo,” said Rough House menacingly, leading the pack. His entire frame covered in trash. Most of it, traces of expired food. “Time for you to learn the hard way why nopony, and I mean nopony, gets away with crossing Rough House. Fork over the lamp, and I may spare you another black eye.”

Chortling at his words, I retorted back to him, making him madder. “Heh. You call those punches? I call them dog paddles. Seriously, that guy over there could hit way harder than you. Really. Rough House? Maybe you should go by ‘Sweet Shop’ or something.” I was referring to an elderly pony sitting by the sidelines, watching our little confrontation.

Everypony around me was stunned. I had entered a lion’s den and mocked him for his blunt fangs. There were no boundaries with me.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.” He crept further towards me. I braced myself for his imminent pounding.

Then from out of nowhere, a voice called, stopping Rough House’s advances. “Don’t even think about it.”

Before the scene finishes, I’m snapped out of my daydreaming by Applejack. I haven’t said anything at all during our harvesting. She’s picked up on my lingering silence, growing concerned with each second.

Looking at our wagons, it looks like our gathering is almost over. A few more trees and we can retire to the Apple family home and partake in a nice meal.

“Um, Mel?” says Applejack, giving me a poke on the side. “Ya’ve been pretty quiet over there. Sum’min on yer mind?”

I shake my head, wearing a smile. Telling her, “Nah, don’t worry.” I need to find an excuse. She doesn’t appear to buy my lie. “It’s just that…everything here feels so different. Everything’s so simple compared to where I’m from.” That excuse surprises me; it’s actually a genuine reason.

“And where are ya from?” insists Applejack.

“Bastion.” Again, I take that risk of opening myself up. Removing whatever veil or cover I’m wearing. “It’s a city at the west of Equestria.”

Perplexed, Applejack ponders on the word a little. She hasn’t heard of it. I don’t blame her.

“Bastion…? Nope, sorry. Dun’tring a bell. What’s it like?”

I don’t want to tell her about it in full. I’m still drained from explaining it to Twilight. It’s such a tax on my voice. On my mind. Not only do I have to visualize and describe the city, but I have to show how proud I am to be one of them. Boast about everything the city has to offer.

But then again I don’t have too. All that needs mention is what’s eating away at me.

“It’s a big city. Bigger than any other place in Equestria.” That incident with Rough House has got me thinking. This mission is a good way to get out of the Bastion life for a while. So far I’m enjoying it, to the point where the thought of moving out has crossed my mind. It most likely won’t happen, but it is a nice prospect to look to. “Maybe too big for its own good.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of where I’m from. But I’ve always wanted to get away for a while. I always wanted to see what’s over those walls that separates us from Equestria. It gets so busy there sometimes. So complicated. You ponies have it easy here, Applejack. You haven’t got much to worry about. We worry back home a lot.”

“Ah thought that all ya city folk have it easier,” says Applejack. “Y’all don’t worry none ‘bout workin’n too hard like we do since yer all pampered. Dunno ‘bout you, but that ain’t the kinda life Ah wanna live. Ah’d know, Ah’ve tried it. Wasn’t me.”

I’m anything but pampered. Nothing I’ve earned came from a silver platter. Everything was hard-earned. Either scraped from the streets or gained through my clawing and pecking through tough tribulations. Calling me ‘pampered’ or somepony who has it easy is one thing I see as highly incorrect. A generalization of urban living.

“Believe me. City life is much harder than you think,” I tell her, refusing to delve on the topic. Luckily, another one springs to mind. “Man, I thought I’d get used to living in a small town quickly. Turns out that nopony can adjust in one day. I wish I could. I wanna try living like I’m in someplace quiet. Someplace where I don’t have to stress out too much.”

“F’ya want, Ah could help ya,” says Applejack, extending her hoof to me in suggestion. “Ah could show ya what life in Ponyville’s like. Me’n mah friends can show ya if ya like.”

Lightly, I draw a smile on my face and say, “That would be great.”

“Aah, we’re here. Just leave yer wagon there, Mel.”

“Got it.”

We’ve arrived at our next stop – the Apple Family residence. It’s larger than I thought. I expected us coming to a barn or a structure of smaller size. Taking my time, I turn the other side and scan the entire Sweet Apple Acres, losing myself in its detail. Like Applejack had told me earlier, the view is absolutely breathtaking. A wide range of high hills of apple trees all around. The gentle breeze and the soothing summer sun. Fragrance of fruits and vegetables combined. It takes me to a new dimension. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay. Basking in this foreign yet peaceful atmosphere, where all my inhibitions and worries melt off of my shoulders. Where nothing seems to go wrong.

One minute or so of admiring the landscape, Applejack calls me in from inside her humble home. Keen on getting to know me more, keen on letting me know her and her family more. “Mel, you comin’?”

“In a sec, AJ,” I return to her, counting a few more seconds.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

I follow her into her home in a casual little trot, closing the door upon entering.

Rainbow Dash – Higher and Higher

Another portion of my day has commenced as the clock strikes three o’clock. My next destination is the city in the sky. Founded by and home to the Pegasus ponies – Cloudsdale. Being a separate civilization from Ponyville, the culture has to be different in some way. That’s what I’m betting on.

The immediate and major problem that both Earth ponies and Unicorns face is their inability to set foot on clouds, a trait that’s exclusive to the Pegasi, which is necessary for them to manipulate the weather. Yes there are ways to circumvent the issue, but this form of racial bias can be a bother to some who want to explore the skies and aren’t born with that capability. It definitely is a bother to those who just want to get an indepth look on what the Pegasi’s place of residence is like.

I look out to the horizon on a purple hot air balloon I’m riding on. The view is too glorious to not pay attention to. It gives me a flavor of what to expect in my stay here. It’s a combination of empty deserts, exotic forests and settlements that vary in size. Paired perfectly with the refreshing wind and the gentle sun, leaving anypony breathless. Amongst the landscape, I spot a series of buildings nestled at the side of the mountain range. The city of Canterlot, my future destination once I’m finished with Ponyville. Where I will confront Celestia, where I will query her on many things. Specifically, on my home. Why Lord Mercury despises her so much.

Accompanying me on my way up to Cloudsdale are Twilight Sparkle and Spike, who are both helming the balloon. Twilight is charged with keeping the balloon inflated, while Spike blasts shots of flame into the opening to send it lifting above ground. They’ve used this balloon a lot, so they know what they’re doing. It’s a slow ascent, but it’s best that way. Admiring the view becomes an impossibility when the passengers are rocketing at high speeds.

Cloud patches come into view, which heralds that we’re close to our stop. In waves, they pass over our heads. Or rather, we pass through them. They’re so dense. They feel wet to the touch. Trickling the skin, leaving us slightly damp. Dried off in mere seconds through the currents of wind.

“We’re almost there,” informs Twilight. “I can almost see it.”

“I can’t see a thing,” I say back to her, squinting my eyes to prevent them from coming into contact with the clouds. It does no good; my sight remains impaired by the moisture around us. What I do know is that we’re several feet above ground.

“You will soon enough.”

The anticipation soon pays off. The city of Cloudsdale appears before our very eyes. Everything about it is as hinted by stories and its name – a network of clouds culminating together to form one whole civilization where all Pegasi find abode. Despite their appearance, everything here still functions normally. Buildings are inhabitable. Any existing machinery functions with little to no problem. Empty spaces are used as the city’s streets and pathways for its citizens to cross.

Hovering all around are the Pegasus ponies who live here, each one leading their own lives as per usual. Attending to their routine duties. Some of them take the time to greet us. The most notable one of these is a gray-coated, green-haired mare waving at us whilst looking on all crosseyed, yelling “Hi. Welcome to Cloudsdale!” in a childish-sounding voice. She seemed…special, to say anything positive about her.

Out of nowhere comes that rainbow-haired pony, darting towards us. Rainbow Dash, I believe, is her name. Ponyville’s resident athlete and flier extraordinare, but faithful to both it and her birthplace here in Cloudsdale. She waves at us and bids, “Oh! Hey, Twilight and erm… Melpomene, was it?”

“That’s the name,” I confirm, nodding. “And if I remember correctly, you’re Rainbow Dash, right?”

Bowing at me, she also confirms. “The one and only. What’re you guys doing up here?”

Twilight and I alternate in explaining to her my agenda for the day. For this afternoon, I’ve decided to take a tour around Cloudsdale. Know what the common rabble is like in these parts. What they do, how they behave in comparison to their grounded cousins. I want to take advantage of every learning experience I encounter as much as I can. Milk them out for all they’re worth, learn everything I can. Cautiously, I leave out my intentions for a later date. Now is not the perfect time.

“Ah, you want to go sightseeing here. Well, sure. I’m cool with that,” says Rainbow Dash, pleased to know that somepony from below is paying her city a visit. “Can I be your tour guide? I’m not just Equestria’s fastest flier, but I’m also the fastest tour guide Cloudsdale’s ever got. Can I, please? Can I? Can I?” She’s pretty eager to show me around. I’m in a position where I literally can’t refuse her offer. She isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Why not?” I say to her, accepting her offer in a shrug.

Joyously she pumps her hoofs down, exalting loudly. “Yes. You won’t be disappointed, Melpomene. Stick with me, and your time here in Cloudsdale’s gonna be awesome.” She simmers down a little to take one important precaution. I can already read in her what she has in mind. “But before we get started, I need to make sure. Did Twilight—”

Before she has a chance to finish, I intrude. “Yeah, she did. That’s been taken care of.”

She’s referring to a spell that enables Earth ponies and Unicorns to walk on clouds. Twilight had cast it on me before we boarded the hot air balloon. The spell is temporary, so I can’t stay for too long. There is another spell that adorns the subject with elaborate wings resembling those of a butterfly, crafted from gossamer and morning dew. It sounded more appealing than just being able to tread the clouds. The thought of being able to soar high in the sky of my own power, of my own volition, is exciting. And it does last longer. Alas, I’d have to settle for the cloud-walker option for two reasons. The first is that the spell is very difficult to perform, and leaves the caster exhausted for as long as weeks. The other reason is that the wings themselves are very fragile, and they can disintegrate from the slightest trail of sunlight.

What an occasion would that be if I could fly.

Wasting no more time, I lift one hoof over the basket. I’m a little nervous to break in the spell. To see if it does work, if it’s come into effect. No time for fear. The rest of my body follows shortly after. And to my surprise, I’m walking on a cloud. It’s nowhere near as riveting as flying, as having my own pair of wings to soar with, but still…I’m walking on a cloud. I’m walking. On. A. Cloud!

“Oh. My,” awestricken, I declare for everypony to hear. “It works! I’m walking on clouds!” I laugh like a lunatic, showing off. Feeling more confident than I’ve ever been. Ever. Like I’m on top of the world, which seems rather ironic. I’m running around in circles and doing all sorts of acrobatic tricks. Tumbling around, rolling on the moist surface, backflipping flawlessly, somersaulting. To Twilight and Dash’s amusement. I regain my composure before completely losing myself in the euphoria. “Damn! This is great!”

“My pleasure,” says Twilight, delighting in my glee. “Remember, Melpomene. That spell doesn’t last long, so be sure that you don’t take too long up here.” Affirming, I give her a nod. She then addresses Rainbow Dash to give her a single instruction. “And Rainbow Dash, you keep an eye on her. I don’t know how long that spell lasts, so be ready to catch her whenever she falls off.”

My stomach churns from the last sentence. Whatever bravado I have dissipates in an instant. I expected the spell to be temporary. What I didn’t expect was the spell to wear off without warning. In mere seconds, my trip to the city in the sky has become a matter of life and death. At any moment, I’ll pass through this cloud and plummet to my doom. Nopony else here may notice the possible deadly descent I’ll make. If I do fall, that marks my end. How could Twilight overlook this? Or did she know this beforehand and expect me to put my faith in Rainbow Dash? Does she really think I would trust somepony I barely know with my life? What was she thinking?

Lives are short. Nopony lives forever. Someday I was going to die. I was hoping that a more honorable death await me. I didn’t want to die like this. Not from some mishap. Not from an accident. An oversight on Twilight’s part.

None of those two see the boiling frustration in me. The fear that wells up inside with each falling grain of sand in the hourglass. That piercing emotion that I’m trying my best to hide.

“What did you say?” I ask lowly, pointing my shrunken eyes at Twilight Sparkle. Stricken with fear. “What’s this about the spell wearing off at any time?” I walk slowly to her, demanding that she justify herself.

“Sorry, Mel. Should’ve told you sooner. Sadly, as much as I want to, I can’t control how long the spell lasts. There’re some spells like that. It’s something that us Unicorns can’t understand” She sounds honest with her response.

Witnessing my growing weariness, Rainbow Dash nears me to alleviate my fears, putting her hoof around my neck. “Hey, don’t worry too much about it. Like I said, I’ll be keeping my eye on you. I don’t leave my friends hanging.”

“Dash is right,” adds Twilight. “She may do some pretty nutty things, and she does get a little carried away with a lot of things. Oh, and she can be a headache at times.”

An insulted Rainbow Dash intrudes sourly, stopping Twilight’s laundry list of all her faults. “She gets it, Twi.”

Twilight gets straight to her point. “What I’m trying to say is…Rainbow Dash here is not going to let you fall. She won’t let you down.”

It doesn’t make me feel any better. My life hangs in the balance. The thought of me falling through the clouds glues itself securely in the back of my head. All I can do is depend on Rainbow Dash. Putting my faith in somepony so easily isn’t my forte. But that’s the best I can do. If I don’t overcome this soon, I won’t be able to absorb every last intricacy of this city.

Breathing slowly, I try to perish the thought. No good. The environment is replaced by horrifying countenances. Hallucinations of me falling inevitably, waiting to die. With nopony to save me, nopony to break my fall. Shaking my head, I rid myself of these distracting visions, summoning the courage I need to see this through from start to finish. I cannot show signs of fear. As a soldier of the Bastion Paramilitary, I have to prevail over my feelings. Nevertheless, I’m at unease, but it’s now mostly subdued.

“Alright. I’m counting on you, Rainbow Dash,” I say. Dash salutes fervently and directs me to the first landmark.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Dash proclaims, gliding ahead.

Behind us, Twilight and Spike start their descent back to terra firma.

This part of my mission is probably to test me on my openness to others. Condition me into being more dependent.

“So for our first stop, we’re going over to the Cloudsdale Weather Factory. This is, obviously, where we Pegasi work on weather conditions. I’ll just get this door open for us,” says Rainbow Dash, pushing against the door of an enormous building.

Shutting out that…possibility, I allow the whole factory to sink into my brain. After seconds of straining, Dash gets the door open, guiding me inside.

What reveals itself before me is an office-like interior where many tasks unfold. One side has a sign that reads Season Control hanging from the celing. The workbenches situated there are for smithing articles of the four seasons, the current one being snowflakes for the winter. The adjacent side has its own sign, saying General Duty, referring to weather conditions that occur on a daily basis. A huge, tablet-shaped calendar maintains a comprehensive guideline for the Pegasi working there. Explaining not only the type of weather scheduled for the day, but variants for each village, town and city.

For what appear to be simple chores, these Pegasi put a lot of care and attention into their work. They perform their duties in a painstaking fashion, ensuring that nothing is off.

“This is where weather is made,” says Rainbow Dash, leading me from end to end. Beginning with the Season Control section, moving as quick as possible. “Over here is where we handle the four seasons. Right now, everypony’s getting ready for winter.” She then takes me to the General Duty area, explaining the processes involved. “Here is where we usually work. That calendar tells us what kinds of weather to bring to certain places. I feel bad for those ponies at Trottingham. They’ve got a freak rainstorm headed their way.” She continues on to the far end of the office, showing me eight open windows that lead outside. “See those windows over there? Those are the platforms where the Pegasi get out of to bring the weather. Those platforms represent portions of Equestria. You’ve got north, north-west, west, south-west, south, south-east, east and north-east.”

“Geez, you all take this job way too seriously,” I comment.

“Creating weather’s not as easy as you think,” says Rainbow Dash. “Okay, that wraps up the Weather Factory. Let’s head outside.”

On the outskirts of Bastion is a volcano that has laid dormant for centuries. Before modern times, it was once a feared force of the earth, erupting in intervals that spanned as short as several hours. Because of the long period of idleness, the volcano site has become an ideal hub for two purposes: as a tourist attraction for ponies who lived in the nearby civilizations, and more importantly, as a nest for countless dragons, who have come from their native land and bring along with them a wealth of gems that are mostly foreign to Equestria. After a year or two of stay, these dragons would relocate either to find a new home or out of boredom from the lack of activity, save for the tourists who visited within the area. This unending chain of migration has turned the volcano into a gold mine due to the gemstones left behind in the steepest confines of the volcano’s cavity by its previous reptilian inhabitants. Dubbed The Fool’s Errand by the ponies of Bastion. Rightfully so as many a pony are tempted by the venture for riches, and the danger of the volcano awakening is always present and discourages their pursuits. As a result, very few have embarked on a journey to retrieve the bounty.

The Fool’s Errand was the point of interest for one of my first operations in the Paramilitary. Our objective was straightforward: to acquire enough gemstones to renew the city’s primary power supplies. The streets of Bastion are illuminated by the gemstones which refract whatever light is visible. These gemstones sit on lampposts which enable them to shine at a wide radius. During the daytime, they are concealed with automatically-folding lampshades to prevent the citizens from being blinded. Some actually confuse these lights for a disjointed rainbow.

I was among the troops newly enlisted to the Army Division of the Paramilitary. An ensign. A lot of my peers were of the higher ranks, which made me their chew toy. The one they direct their ridiculing, their criticisms, to. Since I lacked any exposure to what the line of work was like, I was unrefined. Rough around the edges. Naturally I was stubborn. Irrational. But I was eager to better myself. I paid none of my so-called seniors any mind.

Our commanding officer barked out orders as we worked our flanks off, lifting bunches of sharp stones. Hauling them to our wagons. Wash, rinse and repeat. According to him, they were words of encouragement. They were anything but encouraging. His voice was akin to a teacher scraping her hooves against a blackboard to forcedly obtain her student’s attention.

“Come on, you slowpokes. I wanna see at least one bead of sweat drop from all your runty little faces. Show me that you’re REALLY working your asses off,” he spat. Literally.

Speaking negatively of anypony in charge was an act of insubordination. Bad-mouthing your superiors, be it in a hushed tone or blatantly, would earn you a form of humiliation. Lashes on the back, a whole squadron trampling on you for hours on end, having your darkest secrets revealed to the public, you name it. They were in control of you and how they were going to correct you.

I didn’t want to take that risk. Certainly not risk having my childhood spent in the slums told to the masses. That would leave a blemish on my record that is irreversible.

All of us worked for hours. I had lost track of time out of the sweat that poured from my coat, and the fatigue that caused my hooves to atrophy. My senses were deadening from the weight of the gemstones coming on and off my body. Everypony else was also tired. But not to the same degree as I was. Since I was of a much smaller frame compared to them, I would get tired more quickly.

Our work was coming to an end. The commanding officer gathered us together to address us. He looked pleased.

“Nice work, troops. This should last our city for a month or two. Or maybe even a year,” he complimented. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

Our equipment and inventory intact, we made for the sloped path that lead to outside the volcano. The walk back home was long and tedious. We had an abundance in rations and water, so the journey was easy.

A light tremor in the earth changed everything. It announced an impending disaster. Our commander paused in his gait to feel the upcoming vibrations, closing his eyes. His mind comprehending their meaning. One more rattle from the ground, and his eyelids bolted open in horror. They said to me that we had to get out of there immediately. That our time was short. That if we don’t hurry, we’ll die.

“Everypony. Run,” he murmured. He repeated louder. “RUN‼”

We scurried down the side of the volcano as fast as we dared. There was no time to pick up any fallen gems. The tremors were growing stronger. The gaps in between each one became nonexistent. Every one of us had made it to the bottom.

Then…an explosion sounded from beneath us. Catching us by surprise.

Raining from above was a cluster of pebbles, rocks, boulders, charred gemstones and lava; after so long, the volcano has risen from its slumber. The firestorm that ejected from its mouth could be mistaken for some great deity’s wrath. Slaloming left and right, we managed to dodge every inch of the volcano’s residue. The worst we had endured were a few minor burns.

But it wasn’t over. The radius of the eruption was greater than we imagined. The lava could still catch up with us. All that anger pent-up by the earth, released in a single blast. After years of defilement from the dragons that have inhabited it, it had enough.

During our escape, a fellow ensign of mine tripped on his hind hooves, spraining them from the fall. Dropping the batch of gems he gathered. The lava was getting closer to him. The sight of him dying was an unpleasant, lingering image. I had to prevent it from coming true. The riches of the world could never measure up to the worth of someone’s life.

Turning around, I unstrapped the wagon from my back and ran for my downed comrade, to my commander’s dismay.

“ENSIGN‼ GET BACK HERE NOW‼ THAT’S AN ORDER,” he bellowed at me, refusing to stop. “THAT LAVA’S GONNA GET HIM‼ DON’T LET IT GET YOU TOO‼”

“I’M GOING TO HAVE TO DISOBEY, SIR,” I yelled back defiantly.

“ENSIGN‼ DON’T DEFY MY AUTHORITY‼ DO YOU HEAR ME‼” He wasn’t going to lose me. But I wasn’t going to lose a fellow soldier, either.

“FORGIVE ME, SIR‼ NOPONY GETS LEFT BEHIND ON MY WATCH‼”

I reached him in the nick of time, hoisting him up. The adrenaline in my body endowed me with more strength than I’ve ever had. Lifting him was not hard. Before I could make a break for it, a tiny drop of magma oozed into my back right hoof. It pierced through me, singeing off a piece of my coat, skin and flesh. My scream of pain was muffled slightly.

The adrenaline rush enabled me to continue my run. I passed by our bundles of gems, knowing what I had to sacrifice. It had to be done.

I signaled the guard atop one of the spires on the wall. Spotting me, he instructed for the drawbridge to give way. The two of us entered, and I anticipated the repercussions for my recklessness. My insolence.

There I saw them. The crushing stare of my commander. He was not happy. I didn’t bother explaining myself. Gingerly I laid my comrade to the ground for the paramedics to tend to. With that done, I lowered my head shamefully, walking into the city. Into my quarters to await my punishment.

Another fragment of my memories. There’s a pattern to these recollections. The event I reflected on while I was with Applejack at her farm had a purpose. It showed me the feverish side of life back home, juxtaposing itself against the lives of these simple folk. The absence of convolution.

It’s the same deal again. This time, I saw myself in my first mission as a soldier in the Army. That scavenger mission to the Fool’s Errand that had gone awry. Everything was going smoothly. We were acquiring a multitude of gemstones as per the request of the Paramilitary’s chain of command. Lord Mercury’s request, to be exact. No dragon was seen flying the skies above. All went swimmingly. Until the grumbling of the earth halted us cold before we made our leave. Reminding us of why it was given the name of Fool’s Errand in the first place. The ensuing eruption almost made quick work of us. We were close to escaping until one of my friends fell, and the lava was crawling towards him. I stayed behind. I assisted him back in exchange for having a bit of my calf burnt off to the bone. Faithfulness, in the finest example.

What does Rainbow Dash know about being faithful? She’s irrational. She’s hot-headed, ill-tempered and impatient. From that alone, it’s difficult for one to put his or her faith in her. So why should I? If there had to be a scenario that would test my being able to rid myself of doubts, to entrust some random pony from off the street with something as delicate as my existence, did it really have to be a life-or-death one?

My surroundings return to me, telling me that I’ve zoned out…again. I haven’t been listening attentively to her. I’ve been on auto-pilot this entire time. All I’ve responded with are mere nods. No words that affirm my understanding have ever come out of my mouth.

Picking up on this, Dash flutters towards me to check.

“Yo, Mel. Are you listening?” asks Rainbow Dash, becoming impatient. Less tolerant of my weariness. “Do you still think I’m not going to catch you when you fall?”

She’s read me like a book. Anypony can. I fall into an immovable silence, sway my head away from her and stare at the cloudy floor.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” I admit to her, bitter at these circumstances.

“Well quit it! It makes me feel like a bad guy, which I’m not! Do you want me to show you around or not?” I maintain my deadpan disposition at the question. “Look at me. Look at me, Mel!” I do as requested hesitantly. “We don’t know a lot about each other. I know you’re thinking that I’m not somepony you make friends with just like that. That’s alright. Think what you want of me.” She nears me, places her hooves on my shoulders and continues on in a softer tone. “But I never go back on my word. Never. When I say I’m going to catch you, I’m going to catch you. And when I say I don’t leave anypony hanging, whether they’re from here in Cloudsdale or down there in Ponyville, I mean it. I follow through on it.”

Rainbow Dash has suspected my doubt in her. She’s right. These words of hers are not to force me to trust her, but to take my mind off of that possibility. To not let it get in the way of my tour. My mission. Almost instantaneously, the words register in my mind and come into effect. Trust is hard to earn, and I’m aware of it. So is Rainbow Dash. This trip across Cloudsdale is a chance for both of us. It’s a chance for me to be more inviting towards others. And it’s a chance for her to gain my trust. For us to discover more about each other. To gain a new bond after the day ends.

My stoic shell sheds off. Dash guides me into one last building. The last stop of the tour. A building that defeats the other Cloudsdale structures in length, width and height. Ticket booths, standing upright on all of the building’s wings. Behind each of them are doors leading to the interior. From all this and the building’s oval shape, it appears to be a place where sporting events are held. An arena. A coliseum.

“That takes care of that. Come, come. I’ve saved the best part of this tour for last.” Dash is acting gidder than before. To no avail, she attempts to conceal a giggle. Her face flushes, retaining whatever diginity she has. She makes for one of the entrances, pausing to introduce the hallmark out loud. “Without further adieu, I present to you Cloudsdale’s very own entertainment center: the Cloudosseum!”

At the sheer force of Rainbow Dash’s proud voice, both doors open, unveiling a massive stage for different kinds of large-scale events, including sporting events, music concerts and such. The stands are high and wide. So much that they can house an entire city full of ponies, even Bastion. No, that’s not true. I’m just exaggerating. It looks fantastic.

“Holy crap,” I say, my eyes widened from the spectacular site. “This place is huge!” My voice bounces to and fro, from wall to wall, in an echo. “Now this is what I call a stage.”

With not a second to spare, Rainbow Dash glides in. “See? Told ya the Cloudosseum was all that. Get it? ‘Cloudosseum’? Y’know, it’s coliseum and cloud and…” Her explanation is offputtingly unimpressive. My dull reaction prompts her to cut it short. “I, uh…I guess you get it. Sorry. Anyway, let’s take a look around.”

Both of us trek this open field, Rainbow Dash siding by me for the entire walk. She vividly explains to me her hopes, her ambitions. Each year, a contest is held on this very stadium. A contest that gives the competing Pegasi a chance to showcase their talents. As a means to evaluate their strengths and their weakness. Not only in speed, but in agility and coordination, the latter of which she says she’s lacking in. The winner of this contest – the Young Flyers Competition – gets to spend a full day with the Equestrian aerial team known as the Wonderbolts, whom Rainbow Dash has admired ever since she was a filly. Her admiration for them extends to her having a roomful of Wonderbolt-related paraphernalia, ranging from clothing to bedlinen to posters. She’s encountered them several times, and on some accounts they are indebted to her. But never was she enlisted to join them.

Wearing a longing pair of eyes, she gazes to the sky, wondering when she’ll get her big break. When will the Wonderbolts happen upon her doorstep and offer her their uniform.

Dash is a hopeful one. That, I’ll credit her for. She has dreams that she cherishes. That she holds dear. But she has her standards. She’ll reach for her dreams on her merits. On her terms, nopony elses. Unless she’s proven her worth, she can’t call herself one of them.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Rainbow Dash,” I say to her, not meaning any insult. “Set that bar of yours too high, and you might find yourself falling short a lot.”

“What? You don’t think I’m cut out to be a Wonderbolt?” Dash jests back, bumping my shoulder with her hoof.

“I’m just saying…you oughta deflate that ego a little bit.” It was funny hearing that come from me. I’m arrogant myself. I show off now and then. I’m as boastful as the next pony. But I do it to stand up for myself. Mostly. “Try to figure out what you haven’t got down yet before you get all smug.”

“Funny hearing that from you. You didn’t tell me what you’re good at, and you’re telling me to watch myself,” says Rainbow Dash.

“Why tell when you can show? Throw me any challenge you’ve got in mind. Anything…and I’ll blow your mind with what I’ve got,” I say, a grin of confidence rising on my lips.

“Fine. You want a challenge, you’re getting a challenge.”

Not pausing for a second thought, Rainbow Dash soars to the sky, proposing a trial for me all the way. Detailing the rules and conditions of her little game. She gathers tiny cloud fluffs, brings them to where I am and repeats it several times. Once she finishes, she carefully lays them out for me to see. It seems like an obstacle course of sorts. Or a gauntlet. One that spans the entire length of the stadium. From one barricade to another.

The challenge she’s setting for me is one of her exercises in her daily training regimen – a test of agility and coordination. Every cloud Rainbow has set before me is much less denser than a regular cloud. One second worth of pressure is all that’s needed to cause one of these clouds to dissipate. My objective is to leap from one cloud to the next as quickly as possible until I reach the very end. My landings have to be clean and graceful, the momentum carrying over from the last jump to the following one. Given how the clouds are organized, it’s also a test of management. The clouds are plentiful and well-spaced out enough to trick the runner into coming across a dead-end or an impassable jump. Touching the floor means you lose.

Swallowing, I ready myself at the start of the course. From the stands, Rainbow Dash calls out to me, agitating my nerves. Watching me as I wait and plan out my path. “You sure you don’t wanna back down now, Mel? No shame in quitting, y’know.”

“Whatever you say, Rainbow,” I say back with an effortless retort. “Count me down.”

Her counting passes through my ears.

Three.

Two.

One.

I sprint towards the first cloud. The plan is to ensure that my elevation isn’t too extreme. Not too low so that I’m unable to reach the next cloud. And not too high so that I won’t miscalculate my leaps. The course is harder than what it looked like from the starting point. It’s intentionally inconsistent. In the sizes of the gaps to be cleared, in the heights of the clouds… It’s also fairly long. Like crossing a landmine. Dash is more clever than meets the eye. This is a punishing course. But my plenty of years of training in the Paramilitary camps, my plenty of years of service as a soldier, will lead me to conquest.

Alive. That’s how I feel. I’m moving fast. I’m cautious with every action taken. I’m in control. Whatever audience might be out there would be dazzled by my display.

The spheres of sweat excreting from my coat find their way into my eyes, causing minimal damage to my sight. My hooves are sore from the constant jumping. The adrenaline in my body kicks in, supplying me with too much stamina. I’m almost home free. Pounding restlessly, my chest prompts me to continue.

I stick the final landing flawlessly, maintaining my poise, my posture. Hefty breaths coming in and out of my lungs.

An applause sounds from the stands. Following behind it are all kinds of cheers. It’s Rainbow Dash doing all of it. She isn’t mad that she’s met somepony who could successfully complete her challenge; I’m surprised.

“That. Was. Awesome!” says Rainbow Dash as she descends to the stadium. There’s no hard feelings in this mare. “Who’da thought? You, of all ponies, completed my obstacle course. That, my friend, is no easy thing to do. I was careful with that course, and you got through all of it. Oh. My gosh.”

Being showered with praise is pretty common to me. Each successful mission for the Paramilitary is rewarded with a commendatory hosted by Lord Mercury. It makes me feel warm inside. Like what I do has its worth. It reassures me that what I do is for the benefit of my home. After a while, it’s becomes stale. These celebrations have made my victories meaningless over the years. Who would have thought that being placed on a pedestal would be so…boring?

I know, I know. It means that I’m appreciated for what I do. I’ve heard it all before. From everypony I know, friends and family alike. But it would be nice if I could have one day where I’m not exalted like some god. Where everypony around me sees me as me. Without the uniform, without the equipment I haul around when I’m out serving the city. Without the pretenses… I doubt it’ll happen anytime soon. Or at all.

Again, I have my head up in the clouds. Seeing my surroundings, that’s quite an odd choice for an expression.

“Where’d you learn how to do all that?” asks Rainbow Dash, wanting in on my secrets.

Cautiously I leave out critical details – everything, and I mean everything, about Lord Mercury – and tell her all that she needs to learn. Me as a soldier for the city of Bastion. The years of grueling training. How I clawed my way to get to where I am. I make sure that the details are not too vivid, but just enough to give her a basic, crystal clear idea. All the gruesome bits regarding my time in the Academy and the Paramilitary, I can also leave out.

Dash seems to enjoy hearing what I have to say, attentively listening to everything. Sharpening her hearing with each syllable.

“That’s the gist of it,” I say, having reached the end of my explanation.

“You’re a soldier, huh?” asks Rainbow Dash. I nod at her slowly. “And you go off doing all sorts of stuff for Bastion. You must’ve gone on a lot of adventures.” They’re less like adventures and more like favors. “Sounds like a tough job.” Again I nod, this one being slightly hesitant. Tough is an understatement.

“It is at times,” I say, recollecting on the blacker side of the whole affair.

There’s a lot of blood on my hooves. More lives taken than I can care to count. Every moment out there is a test of your will. Hell, holding a weapon alone – a sword, a knife, a mace, a crossbow, your call – is an exam in and of itself. They demand that you claim a life with no regrets. They demand that you keep your frame of mind intact come what may. Whatever adversity you meet along the way. Basically, you either sell your soul or you don’t. Nothing matters to you, or everything does. As long as everything that you do is for your homeland’s honor, that’s all that truly counts.

“And you go off to fight wars too? You go out there and kill or be killed?” Dash has hit the nail on the head. Humbly, she proceeds with another question. “Mel… Have you ever killed anyone?”

Yes, I think. It stays in the reaches of my mind, never leaving. The retreating of my head tells her that. Killing someone is never easy. I’ve met a whole lot with a conscienceless thirst for death. Including their own. Monsters, the lot of them. More worthy of being a soldier than anything else.

“You have?” Dash asks. She goes into a more solemn voice, continuing. “Wow. Must be hard to do that, huh?”

“Yeah.” That’s the first answer in so long that isn’t blunt. “I’m used to it, but I still feel sorta sick when I do it.” The smallest drop of blood will do. That much is all that’s needed to make me feel nauseous.

As these thoughts flows through my mind, I feel the bottom of my hooves giving way. The surface I’m on feels lighter and lighter as one more second passes. No… I say inside, my eyes opening in fright. No, not now. Not now!

“Mel, what’s wrong?” asks Dash curiously.

Just inches before getting a hold of me, the cloud-walker spell finally expires, and I fall past the sky city. The last trace of sound I hear is Rainbow Dash looking from above, calling out to me with shrunken eyes. “MELPOMENE‼” It is drowned out by the racing streams of wind.

A penetrating scream lets itself out of me, tiring my vocal chords. The fall is so quick, so sudden. Frills of my mane are blown to my eyes, blocking out what little I can see. Below me, Ponyville grows closer by the second. I’m going to die. This is it for me. I say to myself. Just as I expected, nopony’s coming to save me. Rainbow Dash isn’t as trustworthy as she claims.

Thirty seconds, and I’m still plummeting like a rock. This is one of the few instances where I’m defying fate. I won’t accept this. I refuse to die this way. Perhaps some miracle will befall me, and I’ll survive this fall. I fool myself into believing that the impact of the landing won’t be as horrendous as it truly is.

Bracing myself, I close my eyes, waiting until my body hits the ground. Faintly, I can feel the panicked screams of the villagers; they’re watching. Watching my hopeless plight.

Once more, I say to myself. The words are audible; I’m whispering them instead of just imagining them. Not like this. Not like this…

Then I hear it. A loud bang shoots through the sky, causing my eyes to open. A kaleidoscopic streak stains the sky, headed towards me at breakneck speeds. Its source is a cyan figure, its limbs thrusted forward. As if reaching out.

The streak catches me into its grasp, the silhouette now visible. “Gotcha!” Rainbow Dash’s voice bursts into my ears as she clings on to me tightly. “Hold on, Mel! Things are about to get bumpy!”

She faces front to continue her flight path. The colors of the streak sink in – the colors of a rainbow. Befitting her name. I’m struck with awe by the glistening spectrum. I’m more amazed that Rainbow Dash followed through on her word. She didn’t abandon me. How foolish do I feel right now. Now I owe two ponies my life. More importantly, I owe one of them an apology.

Our flight comes to a complete stop. Rainbow Dash sets me to the solid soil. My stance is slightly shaken from the gigantic fall. I recouperate from it in seconds.

“Rainbow…” I say in utter disbelief. “You saved me. You weren’t lying.”

Her tender smile shining through, Rainbow Dash lands to the ground, saying, “Like I said: nopony gets left behind on my watch.”

That statement resounds within me. A further reminder of my ignorance, my stupidity for not being so trusting to begin with.

Swallowing my pride, I issue my apology to her, feeling some discomfort. Stumbling in between syllables. “Rainbow Dash. I, uh…” Come on, Melpomene. Pull yourself together. “I’m, er… Sorry.”

“For what?” asks Dash obliviously.

“For not trusting you,” I return. “You were right. You had my back the whole time. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

For a short while, Dash is quiet, pondering on whether to forgive me or not. I don’t blame her if she doesn’t. She tells me, “Aw, I forgive you. I would’ve had a hard time trusting myself too.”

“And, um…thanks…for showing me around. For breaking my fall.” After what I’ve been through, the best I can do is smile at her. Before it slips, I mention one other thing. “Thanks for showing me that trick, too.”

“Oh, that? That’s just a Sonic Rainboom. No big deal, honest. Oh, darn. I gotta jet. Something’s come up. Nice hanging out with you, Melpomene. Hope to do it again soon. Catch ya later!” As do I. She takes to the skies, rising back to her home.

Waving my hoof at her, I return her goodbye, yelling out, “See ya later, Rainbow Dash.”

The fabled Sonic Rainboom. A maneuver where a Pegasus flying at high speeds would crush the sound barrier, painting the sky with a rainbow that lingers on. And to think that it was all a myth. It shouldn’t really be a called a myth now that I’ve beheld it directly.

All these wonders of Equestria, and I’ve spent almost all of my life confined within Bastion’s walls. In the length of two days, I’ve unearthed a lot of Equestria’s mysteries. So much more are out there, waiting to be discovered. Lord Mercury will undoubtedly be interested in all of this.

This mission is going to turn out just fine. That, I’m betting on.

Settling In

Melpomene – Never Let Go

Golden Oaks Library, Second Floor – Ponyville

After a long, arduous day, night has descended upon Equestria. Most of Ponyville’s residents are calling it a day, returning to their respective homes. The sky is livened up by the billions of burning stars and the bedazzling crescent moon. It’s a pity that everypony’s too exhausted to pay notice to the glittering night sky. It’s a remarkable view, especially from the library balcony. Unlike in Bastion, or any other city as far as their concerned, what with their ever bright lights that forbid the glow of the stars and the moon.

My muscles loosen after half an hour of lying down on the soft, gentle bed that I’ve been lent. Back at the library, I fix my eyes on the ceiling lights, my thoughts scattered everywhere. Beside me are my saddlebags, both open and untouched ever since. I scope through the packs to reevaluate my inventory.

First up are my weapons: a slingshot and my old, reliable combat knife. The latter was one of a bucketload of presents given to me by Lord Mercury. A slender, silver blade with a serrated segment at its edge. Really, the knife was all I ever needed.

Next comes the writing equipment: feathers plucked from the pithecophaga jefferyi, a certain type of eagle native to a far-off land; ink jars secured by tightly-sealed caps; and sheets of paper enchanted by a spell that causes it to dissolve into microscopic fibre and be carried off to a recipient. The recipient being the first pony that comes into the owner’s mind. Once it reaches the recipient, it then rematerializes into its original form as though it had not been touched. This is how written messages are transferred between long distances.

After the writing equipment are the toiletries, the first aid kit and a healthy supply of rations. They’re a standard issue to any upstanding member of the Bastion Paramilitary, soldier or janitor or whatever. There’s nothing out of the ordinary. For the rations, higher ranked operatives are treated to only the finest, which means only the most exotic of greens, the plushest bread slices known to ponies and fresh, purely-organic beverages. Before proceeding to the next component, I yank out a ration carton from the pack to consume later.

Last among these provisions is a pouch full of money. Three hundred bits in coins. The currency is one of the very few existing ties left between Equestria and Bastion. It’s enough to last anypony a week. Maybe a month if that pony is too careful.

I stash my things away, dropping the saddlebags to the ground aimlessly. The rectangular lid covering the ration carton slides off effortlessly to reveal a wholegrain wheat sandwich divided into two halves. Protruding out of the slices are fresh cuts of tomato, lettuce, cucumber, zucchini, onions, leek and celery. Rounded off with spoonfuls of mayonnaise oozing out of the sandwich and falling on the container.

My stomach howls out of excitement. It’s ordering me to take a huge bite. I hold the sandwich, hoist it in front of my mouth and dig in. As I begin to partake in my meal, an image abruptly surfaces in my head.

A bright sunny afternoon in Bastion. All of the city was lit up, including the slums. I was on my way back to my makeshift home, after taking care of a…personal endeavor.

Carefreely, I strolled down the familiar walkways, humming a few random melodies. Carrying with me a sack that’s a few times my weight. The passersby didn’t pay much attention to me. I had them fooled with my irresistible charm. Nopony suspected a thing.

One last turn away from my home, and I accidentally bumped into something stiff. Judging from how hard the object was, I thought it was a lamppost. But I was wrong. So wrong.

Getting back on my feet, I shook my head to see what it was I stumbled upon. It was a stallion. Somepony older and bigger than me. He had a coat of green, a mane and tail of a ripe shade of hazel and a cutie mark of a four-leaf clover. The only pony I’ve ever put my faith in. The only one in this world worthy of my attention, my praise.

“Lucky. What’re you doing here?” Lucky Strike was his name. The name of my big brother.

“You’ve been gone all afternoon. Where the hell were you, Mel?” he asked, stern eyes shining through. Playing the role of overprotective older sibling again.

“Um…just coming back from a little scavenging. It’s finders keepers, losers weepers, y’know,” I lied to him pathetically. It wasn’t going to work, yet I was stupid enough to go ahead and try it anyway.

That wasn’t why I was gone for most of the day. Beneath Lord Mercury’s estate was his private vault. The thing was a heavily armored, heavily guarded behemoth that housed riches beyond comprehension. It seemed like it was well-proected. I had been eyeing it for the past month and formulating a plot to raid it and discovered a massive flaw in what would have been one of the most secure places in Bastion. Unknown to Mercury was that the guards he had appointed were very unsuited for the task. Daydreaming constantly, always conversing with each other and their minds drifting elsewhere instead of concentrating on persecuting intruders. With my small frame and the ineptness of the bumbling guards assigned to protect the vault, I was able to successfully realize my plan. Entering and exiting the vault with a large sum in my hooves and without being detected.

Lucky Strike caught on with my agenda. That’s what I was assuming.

Seeing past my lies, he questioned me further, more interrogatively, “Don’t lie to me, Melpomene. Garbage day isn’t until Monday. Where did you really go? And what’ve you got in that bag over there?”

Resisting was no use. Neither was trying to get away from this altogether. I forked over the sack to him, choosing to come clean. He turned it upside down. Out spilt all the coins I collected from the vault.

“What is THIS?” asked Lucky Strike, appalled. “Mel, where did you get all this?” I did not answer. “Out with it!”

“I took all that from Lord Mercury. I snuck into his estate and robbed him blind.” Technically I was telling him the truth.

“You did what?! Why?” I didn’t need to answer that. Lucky Strike already knew… “Do you really hate him so much that you had to do something crazy like that?”

He was right. I hated Lord Mercury back then. Even mentioning his name made my tongue taste sour. All those promises he made. Those promises that he would tend to our needs, provided for us when the need arose. They were never fulfilled. This raid wasn’t a ‘get rich quick’ scheme. It was a ‘get back at some unfaithful bastard’ one. Lucky told me about the repercussions involved with biting the hoof that feeds us. But to me, it was worth it to take that one little nibble. To make a point.

That’s what sets me and my brother apart. I was the one who often took action. Mostly because he hardly saw the world the way I did.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” I told him, embittered.

“Mel, I know why you hate him. Yes, I do too.” I doubt that, I thought. “But he’s still the one running all of Bastion. He’s in charge here, and if we don’t like it, it’s tough shit for us.” He gathered back the coins and returned them to the sack, instructing me afterwards, “Now come on. Let’s come clean and give this back to Mercury. At this point, he might’ve found out. We don’t want the police or the Paramilitary hunting our asses down.”

“Fine,” I replied, compelled into picking up the sack.

This is for your own good, Mel. Just let it go for now. You’ll get your chance someday, I told myself.

I didn’t want to risk eviction from our home. Or worse, banishment from the city. So I silenced myself for the meantime, and waited for another chance. Until I came face to face with Mercury himself.

Lucky Strike. My older brother. I cherished him more than anything. More than any worldly possession, more than whatever wealth I may have. A close-knit brother and sister, he and I were. Closer than anything out there. We played together, we laughed together, we cried together. He was more of a parent than a brother, in fact. To the point where he’d go to great lengths to pay back those who have wronged me many times over.

He was always so wise. His sage words made up for his lack of initiative. The lack of action on his part. To be fair, it wasn’t necessarily lack of action. It was patience, which was something I lacked in. I despised Mercury for not paying us slumdog ponies enough attention. For not following through with the promises he made. Lucky hated it too. But he was quick to forgive. He was the ‘see both sides of the coin’ kind. He was patient with Mercury’s unfairness. Everything he ever told me has remained in a tightly-sealed safe.

Our blissful days together were short lived. Fate had decided that those days were too good to last, and decided to rob us of them. It was that one night when reality sunk in. That night when I fully understood the bitterness of the world. That not everything is syrupy. The stress of being the next in line to be in charge of the family got the better of him. Weeks prior, he stayed up hours later than he needed to, scouting the piles of garbage for valuables. For food scrapes that can be heated for use in the near future. For anything to aid us in some way. Often times, he’d end up in scrimmages with our fellow slumdogs for the most inexpensive of items. It would continue on and on, causing him to contract a highly elusive disease that targets the circulatory system. A strain of virus that harmfully affects the blood. What the effects are are still unknown up until today.

The burden took its toll at last that night. Lucky’s health reached the ultimate low. He collapsed right in front of me, looking pale. His eyes struggling to stay open. Fighting with all they could to see me one last time. With his last breath, he apologized to me for not heeding the advice I gave him. He told me he was sorry for ignoring me when I said to him not to worry about us too much. And as he degraded into nothing more but a lifeless shell, it all fell apart. A piercing scream shot to the sky. I came to realize that I was the one doing the screaming. My brother was gone. For hours on end, a stream of tears poured out of my eyes. The enemies I’ve made came to share in my sorrow instead of reveling in it. My heart was heavy like metal.

He’s up there right now, along with all the other ponies whose times have come. I can sense his apparition watching over me, whispering his trademark words of wisdom to me to help me get through another minute. I’ve come so far. I’ve come along way ever since his passing. I’m one of the Bastion Paramilitary’s most decorated soldiers. Through the heartache, through the misery, I’ve persisted. Through the tribulations, I have triumphed. Looking from up above, is he smiling down on me? Would he be proud of me? Have I done him and his name justice? I’m certain that I did.

Once I finish with my sandwich, I reach into my pack for a roll of paper, a quill and an ink jar. I am to jot down my findings in a daily report and deliver it to Lord Mercury. I can also treat these reports as journal entries. I can write about whatever I wish. About anything. But I cannot afford to leave out any vital information. Mercury has an entitlement to know whatever it is that his subjects, his soldiers, know. He’s kind of critical about this. Besides, he’s perceptive, even though one look at him may tell you otherwise. He sees through you. He can read you like a book, tell when you’re hiding something.

Scratching my chin, I carefully think about how to word all this. I need to come off as intelligent. As somepony knowledgable. Somepony who’s competent. The words dawn on me, and I slather the quill with ink, let the small drops return to the ink jar and proceed with my writing.

Journal Entry Number 1, by General Melpomene of the Bastion Paramilitary’s Army.

The first day of my journey to the outer expanses of Equestria has drawn to a close.

Before I mention my findings, I would like to inform that I have hit a minor snag while en route to the Unicorn City of Canterlot. I foolishly neglected my growing hunger and thirst, choosing instead to travel the distances without pause. After one full day of running – twenty-four long, hard hours worth of running – the fatigue had finally gotten to me, causing me to collapse in the middle of a different town. I will get to that later. Let this be a lesson to me and the soldiers under my authority. Attempting to complete a mission at the expense of one’s well-being is not encouraged.

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, I shall begin with the town where I had lost consciousness. The town is named Ponyville, a quiet and peaceful community of ponies where very little has advanced compared to Bastion. Where the folk live uncomplicated lives not ruled by technology, preferring to earn their keep primarily through manual labor. Everypony here is as friendly as they come. At least, that’s what they’ve come off as so far. No, they are a warm bunch. As a matter of fact, there is one pony who I owe my life to. She was the one who brought me to her home after I had passed out and invited me to stay until I completely recouperate. Right there, I knew I had found somepony I can put my faith in. Somepony I can safely call my friend. It’s a first for me; the friendships I’ve built were always at a steady, if not dreadfully slow pace. But this mare saved me, and that’s enough for her to earn my trust.

Outside of just the villagers here, there is also the work-life element. The ponies of Ponyville are honest-to-goodness, hardworking and always ready to lend a hoof to those in need. Taking on various jobs to make a living, from running vendor stalls to counter duty at the local confectionery shop to construction of new buildings. Most of the population here, however, take part in agricultural chores. The biggest source of employment here is the town’s nearby farm. A stretch of land that spans farther than all of Bastion’s farms put together, growing many kinds of fruits and vegetables. But for the most part, it concentrates on the growing of apples; this is where the name of the entire farmland stems from – Sweet Apple Acres.

Miracles and oddities are quickly becoming routine during this mission, from what I’ve experienced. Everything around me feels quaint, and anypony in my position would think the same thing. But it’s the good type of quaint. The one that sparks an openness to all things foreign. That encourages curiosity. Rest assured, this operation will go accordingly. I will be continuing my case study on the land of Equestria, and eventually the powers that be. The forces that govern over this new nation – Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. I will return tomorrow with an even greater insight on life outside Bastion’s walls.

Until then, this is farewell. Then, now and forever. The heart of Bastion, no force in this world can ever sever!

General Melpomene

Army Division, Bastion Paramilitary

The final stroke the quill makes leaves my mark, my signature, on the report. Both the quill and the ink jar are put back into the saddlebag. I furl up the sheet of paper into a scroll and rip it into two halves from the middle. At that action, the two segments disperse into a gust of minuscule glitters that the wind carries out of the library, guiding it to the horizon. Back to my homeland. To Bastion City Hall, where Lord Mercury spends most of his time and probably is at this moment.

Twilight Sparkle – Inquisition

The last book on my desk shuts in a slam, dropping down to the pile in a freefall. I have just completed the most recent volume of a series of books regarding potions and other peculiar mixtures. It was an…enriching read, to say anything of it. So many recipes that may be native to other countries, but totally alien to me, are written in the book. Complete with highly graphic depictions of the ingredients and the effects of the potions, both intended and unintended.

I now turn to the staircase leading to the second floor. Melpomene has been quiet for the past two hours. Besides a chat that the three of us – ‘three’ meaning myself, Spike and Melpomene – had during dinner, she has not uttered anything to me. Not even a groan or grumble. She’s beginning to be more open, but there’s still an air of secrecy looming over her. I know I was doing what was right when I helped her by taking her in, but I can’t be too complacent. I need to be at least somewhat wary. Attentive to a degree, not to an extreme.

Melpomene… She’s an enigma. She told me a lot about herself this afternoon. One of the things she said to me was her place of birth, her home. The shrouded city of Bastion. Of course, I didn’t use the word ‘shrouded’ when I mentioned Bastion. That might have been insensitive of me to say that. But needless to say, I have yet another topic to engross myself in. Every little detail of the city, she said it with an overwhelming clarity. So elaborately that even I can easily envision myself standing in its streets, witnessing all of it for myself. What she said has to be true. If she can explain to me every little tidbit about her home with such confidence, then it really must be out there. She must be telling the truth. The city of myth is an actual city. A metropolis that has been lost in time, and only remains in name. Now I have a lead on this. A good one. A good start on a new study.

“Spike? You still awake?” I call out, aware of the time.

Nine o’clock. Most ponies here in Ponyville would have gotten to bed by now. Melpomene has been up there and been quiet ever since; she too must be asleep. This is a good time for me to pull of an all-nighter and read more on Bastion.

At the sound of my call, Spike enters from the kitchen, holding a half-chewed ruby in his claw. His cheeks bulging from the bite he took from the gem. He looks annoyed. Annoyed from me always calling him, sometimes interrupting him in the middle of his time of leisure. Which I completely understand, but can’t deal with right now.

“You called?” he returns dryly, biting into the ruby once more.

The name of a book chimes into my mind, prompting me to instruct him, “I need a book.”

“Of course you do,” answers Spike, using his usual sarcasm. “Which book did you want now, Twi?” A book with a self-explanatory title.

“I need you to get that book called The Four Borders of Equestria. I can’t remember where it was.”

Spike marches up to the bookshelfs to search for that elusive book, grumbling coherent phrases. “Stupid book that Twilight needs. Can’t be right in front of me, make my life easier. So annoying. Probably a large book, which means a sore back, or sore claws. Or both.”

The book should provide me with at least a summary on what Bastion is like. Hopefully a summary that’s better than the many others that I’ve seen from that other book. Everything else I’ve read have proven useless. Hooves crossed that it changes.

These hidden civilizations that were once part of Equestria… They’re reappearing all of a sudden. First was the millennium-old Crystal Empire, situated on Equestria’s north, which vanished from the face of the planet as a result of a curse cast upon them by the ruthless King Sombra. And now this mysterious city that’s said to be far and above all others. In technology, in architecture, in culture, in everything. This Bastion, rumored to be located at Equestria’s west, where both it and the Land of Griffons meet. Could the Empire and Bastion be similar in a way? Are their histories identical? Or are they two separate entities? Is it a different situation this time around?

Spike comes back to me, holding the book in his claw. Appropriately named The Four Borders of Equestria. He drops it onto my table and heads off upstairs, tired from head to toe. “I’m off to bed,” he announces on his way up.

Bidding him goodnight, I return to my book, opening it through my magic. Its title printed plainly on both the cover and the first page – The Four Borders of Equestria, volume X. This book is thick. As thick as every other book in this library, I’d say. It should provide me with what I need to know and hopefully more. An insight on the way of life there, maybe. The general architecture, geographical size, the dominant pony race, technology, any data that may be worthwhile. The first piece of information I take note of as the book opens is the publication date of this volume, written in the colophon. 999 PB.

Traditional lore has told of two eras in the Equestrian calendar. The earliest era is the Antebellum era, commonly abbreviated by the public as AB, which lasted for two thousand years. Long, long before the rule of the Royal Pony Sisters, Princesses Celestia and Luna. The last five hundred years was when the Lord of Chaos, Discord, governed over all the country with a ruthless disposition. At the end of that five-century period was when Celestia and Luna revolted against Discord’s wicked rule, which escalated to an all-out war between both sides; this is the birth of this time period’s name. This was a time before and during the long, hard-fought war that these forces endured. That Equestria would inevitably suffer from, along with the chaos and destruction courtesy of Discord himself.

Postbellum, or PB, is the current time period. The era after the war, hence the name. Until today, there are still signs of damage caused by the war and Discord’s rule. Celestia and Luna, along with the Canterlot Royal Guard, have since been hard at work, and probably still are as of late, to make reparations. Overtime, the destruction has been undone, but the effect remains. Painful memories of yore stay rife in the minds of some ponies.

The year is now 1002 PB. More than two years since I have relocated here in Ponyville.

Seeing how little time I have, I skim through the contents. Thirty seconds in, and I soon find a page containing one heading, written in bold, capitalized fonts. Western Equestria. All I need is that key word, and I’m good to go. Painstakingly, I analyze the whole section. Every last word, every last sentence and paragraph. My eyes straining, bloodshot in minutes from the ceaseless, nigh-vacant staring. It emerges in front of me at last. This is the entry, the summary, that I’ve been searching for.

**The shrouded city of Bastion, a hidden city that rests on the edge of Equestria’s west, where it borders Griffonia, The Land of Griffons. Very little regarding this metropolis is known besides two factors. The first is its name. The other is the square-shaped citadel that walls the city off from Equestria. Common speculations surrounding Bastion are its architecture, its technology and its standing in a social aspect.

Bastion is said to be crowded with intricate buildings, both new and old, that stand as high as the nearby mountain ranges. The architecture of the city, and the entire city in general, exudes modernity and diversity while retaining a sense of tradition, with an area modeled to resemble a typical Equestrian village or town, not only in structure but in culture. In addition to a more traditional part of the city is its slum neighborhood. Ponies of a lower social standing delegate themselves here, reliant on the aid of the local government for the provision of food, shelter and other essentials should they be demanded. Society in Bastion is divided into three classes: the wealthy, the in-between and the poor. While there are areas in the city that accommodate to the population’s social classes, this also greatly expands the gap between these three classes. There is a greater dichotomy between rich and poor in this metropolis than in any other civilization in Equestria.

Among the various industries in which Bastion is more matured in is technology. Everyday living has become easier due to numerous advancements introduced. Instead of travelling from one point to another by hoof and given that they are able to afford it, ponies now travel through wheeled vehicles that operate on electricity or engines that require combustible components. New modes of communication have allowed for seamless interaction between ponies regardless of their distance from each other. These machinations have become so integral that the city is virtually ruled by them. A double-edged sword, if you will. Their dependence on the machines they have built may also be their downfall.

What distinguishes Bastion from all others is its independence. Ever since its foundation, it has declared itself a separate entity. An independent nation that is more than capable of sustaining itself. Though it has stressed its ability to stand its ground by itself, it is still settled on Equestrian land, and thus is a part of Equestria in essence.

With all that being said, the question remains to be asked. Does it really exist? Is there a city out there that is inhabited by those of our kind? Besides the enormous wall that stands by the western shores, how can one verify its existence?

The answers to these questions are slowly unfolding, dear readers. As of this writing, there have been reports of several international incidents that may hint to Bastion’s presence. Anyone who reads this is likely to be aware of the collapse in power in Griffonia. For those who are unfamiliar, its leader, President Aquilina, was recently murdered in cold blood after her private estate in Griffonia’s provincial region located in the south was raided by a military-modeled faction of ponies. It was a moment of triumph for these armed forces, as well as one of great sorrow for the country’s griffon population. A moment that has lead to a friction between the republican government of Griffonia and her majesty Princess Celestia, the latter of whom denied the authorization of the attack and is not aware of the armed forces’ presence.

And that as they say is that, my little ponies. Somewhere out there, deep in the widest expanses, in that broad horizon, is a city that has isolated itself from all else. Though many stories are but mere figments and only serve to spark interest, just as many stories are proven to be factual. Only time can tell whether or not there really is a mysterious utopia out there. But one thing is for certain. There is one thing that this old coot can count on. The signs are beginning to show.

Professor Bon Voyage

Recorded 999 PB, month and day unknown

The city of Mustang Harbor

“Aquilina,” I whisper to myself, recognizing the name.

A fearless leader from all reports gathered, she was the former president of Griffonia. She was assassinated on the spot after a group of soldiers invaded her estate. The soldiers were all mares and stallions. The government accused Celestia for ordering the attack. But she did not. She never knew about a separate Equestrian armed forces. It didn’t stop the tension from building. The matter has taken a turn for the worse and is being dealt with behind closed doors to prevent any civilian involvement.

But what was that squad of ponies? Who were they? A glint in my eyes flashes; I remember. Melpomene’s words chime in. She mentioned something about a paramilitary organization within Bastion. Civilian ponies trained, conditioned to become a fighting force like no other. Like nothing Equestria has ever seen before. That the world has ever seen before. Unquestioningly serving the country through everything they do.

It all makes sense. The location of the city, the Equestrian frontier, the border between us and Griffonia. Of course it is. The ones responsible for the raid and the death of President Aquilina has to be them. It's likely that they belonged to this Paramilitary. This corps that Melpomene serves.

Melpomene. Bastion. The Paramilitary. She must be a cold-blooded killer, just like them. Ruthless. Hard-hearted. No. No, no, no, she can’t be. She must have a conscience that tugs at her heartstrings. She isn’t like them. From what I’ve seen, that is.

“No. Not Melpomene. She’s too nice to be like them,” I say, perishing the thought.

This is better than I hoped for. I now have a better set of clues to go with this study. I have some evidence to back up whatever claim I might make. But just to be sure, I draw a quill and a scroll to the table, dabbing some ink on the tip. There’s one pony out there who has always given an answer to my questions. I have full confidence that she’ll come through for me again.

My heart set in place, I get to writing, listing down the queries I have in store in the form of a letter. A letter to somepony I am certain holds the answers.

My dearest Princess Celestia,

I am writing to you to ask of your knowledge on a matter that I feel has become irrelevant to us ponyfolk. For the past two days, I have studied and engaged myself in a new topic: the geography of Equestria. My research has led me to the stories of another hidden civilization other than the Crystal Empire. According to the data I have gathered, it is not hidden from the face of this world, but is simply an isolated location. Signs of its imminent return are emerging one by one. I believe that the most prominent of these signs is the death of Griffonian President Aquilina. I feel that a new crisis will take rise on Equestria. And if an initiative is not taken, I fear that the fate of our fair country, and the entire world, will be shaken once again. With this I wholeheartedly ask you now…

What do you know about the Shrouded City of Bastion?

I humbly and fervently await your reply.

Yours ever so faithfully,

Your student, Twilight Sparkle

Furling up the paper into a roll again, I notice something that I should have paid attention to. I cannot deliver this to the princess without Spike’s help. Perhaps it can wait tomorrow. Only until tomorrow. I don’t want to make poor little Spike mad by waking him up in the middle of the night. He needs his rest…an so do I. Confound it!

“Guess it’s time for me to call it a night,” I say to myself, yawning. Covering my mouth. I stack the scroll away in a drawer, shut off the library’s lamps and lights and make for upstairs.

On arrival, I see Spike comfortably lying down in his cot, safeguarded by his petite, blue blanket. At the side of my bed is Melpomene, sleeping on a mattress on the floor. The sight of them drifting off to the next realm adds more unneeded weight to my sagging, inflamed eyes.

Delicately, I take to the bed, tucking myself in the comfort of the plush quilt. My head nicely rested on the soft pillow. After counting to five in my head, both of my eyes shut tight for the night as I put myself to sleep. Setting off for the dreamer’s wonderland. A peaceful smile curving on my lips.