Equestrian Frontier

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.