Equestrian Frontier

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.