The Fall of a Nation

It took only a couple of days for the mail service to be put back up, but that wasn’t much of a consolation for Lyra. All letters were now officially reviewed by the Guard before being given to their recipients. While Lyra knew that it was necessary to pilfer out any and all Red communication, she was becoming frustrated by the slow process. A letter from Fillydelphia would surely have arrived in a day or two under normal conditions, but with all the reviewing, censoring and simple nervous pondering by both the Reds and Whites the time to get a letter had quadrupled.

The war had now officially started, with the Royal Council declaring a full mobilization of the Royal and White Guards, merging them into a new Equestrian Army. At the same time, the Parliament had declared itself the only rightful governing body of Equestria. It had been no surprise that the fresh leader of the Republic of Gryphonia, Supreme Crimson Talon, had immediately recognized the Parliament as the only legal representative of Equestria. While that would have been a deathblow for the Whites in some other time, there was still severe unrest in Gryphonia, as Crimson Talon had gotten to power only seven months ago by executing a perfect, bloodless coup when the country was still suffering from a deep recession caused by the war with Equestria and Prance. Some idle gryphon troops occupying the northernmost Equestrian territories would probably join the Reds, but most just wanted to go home. Of what Lyra had heard from the radio during evenings, she could gather that the Parliament had become a mere puppet of the Gryphonian Supreme, who intended to make Equestria a satellite state for his new republic.

This turn of matters had only made the mare more confident of herself on the matter of joining the White Guard. She was afraid of having to hurt other ponies, but it was all different now with the gryphons in this mess. Equestria needed everypony to defend itself during the darkest days of its history. Home, friendship, and motherland – those were the words Princess Cadence had used during her most recent speech. But that still wouldn’t have been reason enough for Lyra, were her wife not in the middle of Red territory.

Because of where Bon was, it was a torture to hear about the atrocities the Red Guard had already committed when they overran Seaddle. As the radioman had put it, the Reds were ruthless and completely lacked mercy. The White Guard of Seaddle was quite small, and the Reds had had the advantage of having armed ponies already on the move. Several divisions of thousands of Reds from Baltimare had been put on attack, and the results weren’t pretty – all the Whites of Seaddle and the surrounding countryside were now gone. The Whites of Seaddle had surrendered after only a day of fighting, but that didn’t mean their fate would be any better than dying on the battlefield. No – being imprisoned by the brutal force of armed workers and traitors was an almost certain death sentence.

--

2. 2. 918

Dear diary,

Finally received a letter from Bon. I was extremely relieved to hear she’s not currently in danger – but that doesn’t mean I can stop worrying, since she’s still inside red territory. However, I am going to have a much easier time sleeping now.

--

3. 2. 918

Dear diary,

I didn’t think everything would start to fall apart so quickly.

Just moments after I woke up today, the lights went out. Power outages aren’t uncommon in Ponyville, but this time the power didn’t come back up like it always does – I guessed something must be wrong with either the power lines or the nearby coal plant, which powers much of the countryside near Canterlot. It turned out that I was terribly right.

Canterlot has gone to hell. Princess Cadence has been assassinated, and a part of the Royal Guard mutinied under Major Ironhelm, one of the most influential and powerful stallions in the military. It was only by Guard Captain Armor’s inspirational speech and valiant fighting that the Royal Council was saved, and most of our capital remained in White hands. Unfortunately, there was no chance for a decisive victory. After taking heavy losses in the battle over the Castle of Canterlot, the Reds retreated to the Northern parts of the city. However, it’s imperative to note that the enemy can’t hole up in there forever – they have no means to get support in the way of food and munitions.

But above all this madness rises the speech of Shining Armor, played in the radio several times, for it was something truly epic. I was there in the wedding of him and Cadence, back in the better times... the times of love and happiness when war was only a distant echo. I know how he loved Cadence, and the speech reminded me of my own beloved wife, who’s so close to my heart, yet so far physically. Oh, how I miss those old times of joy and careless life...

But hope still remains. It’s time for me to join the fight. Time to take up arms for our motherland.

--

Just had a horrible nightmare. Took me some time to stop shaking and to actually be able to write something coherent.

I was on a beautiful meadow. A field of roses, deep in their crimson lay ahead of me. The wind was warm and peaceful – I had a feeling of serenity that was the norm not that much time ago. Somehow, I could see every little detail of those roses. Their petal were perfectly symmetrical and glittered in the refreshing sunlight, like they were parts of some alicorn-spawned garden. The thorns, sharp enough to rip a pony apart, seemed to extend themselves to the deepest pits of my mind.

Then the roses started singing. They sang their horrid, mind piercing song, until I could take it no more. I awoke with a throbbing headache, and hugged Bon who always slept right there beside me. Except she wasn’t there, of course.

When will we see again?

--

4. 2. 918

Dear diary,

It feels weird to write this often… Expressing my feelings by writing into a book isn’t exactly what I’m used to. But it will have to do while Bon is away.

There’s so many news all the time. But unlike the trivial gossip and useless ponderings of the past, every word is novadays filled with information. Every little detail of Red actions from sightings of rogue fighters to reports of divisional movements is broadcasted on the radio. I think the Council wants to create a sense of safety in us by assuring that they know everything the enemy does and have the situation under control. Well, that’s not working for me. There’s so much reports of Reds around Fillydelphia that I’m going to have trouble with sleeping again, and the nightmare I had last night certainly doesn’t help.

Of course I should also be concerned of what happens here in my own town – and much has indeed happened. The Carousel Boutique, former home of the Element of Generosity, is now used to house the Red prisoners. Many are worried of the current problem we have with the captives: food. There’s little of it even for us, and feeding the prisoners will certainly strain our food supplies. However, Guard Captain Big Macintosh insisted that they’re treated equally when sharing from our stock. And you can’t say no to him.

Another, albeit temporary strain on the town's resources will be the draw of twenty Whites to the defense of Canterlot. Our capital is in a desperate need of fresh units, and the White Guards of the countryside around it will aid the Royal Guard in dealing with the Red menace. The selected ponies will have to be supplied with at least a week’s worth of rations and a lot of munitions.

--

5. 2. 918

Such a tranquil day. No big news from around the world. Even Ponyville was very quiet today. I hope it’s not just a case of calm before the storm…

A day like this makes my heart hurt. With the radio crackling and sputtering recent developments I had at least something to do – but today, nothing was there to keep my emotions at bay. Yes, I have cried. A lot.

But I must not let my emotions take control of me. I have to be stronger than that.

--

6. 2. 918

Dear diary,

When I went to the City Hall this morning in order to join the White Guard, little did I know about what I was going to witness...

There was a black-eyed and beaten-up mare strapped to a pole in front of the building. Her pink mane was mostly torn away, and her body was so bruised that it was hard to tell whether it was naturally red or some hue of pink. For a moment my head was filled with terror and puzzlement – Pinkie Pie?!

Well, of course it wasn’t Pinkie, since it was doubtful that even she could escape the dungeons beneath the Castle of Canterlot. Still irrationally afraid of the identity of the pink mare, I sighed in relief when I noticed her cutie mark: A bunch of grapes and a strawberry. Despite the horrible condition of Berry Punch, I couldn’t really feel any remorse for the mare. It had been her own choice to join the Red Guard, a ragtag faction of criminals who cared only for themselves.

I was told by Private Carrot Top that most of the Red captives had escaped during the night, but one unlucky mare had been captured when she tried to snatch supplies from the warehouse. When the warehouse guards hurried to the Carousel Boutique, they found both of the guards stationed there dead with all of those held captive long gone.

Mayor Mare later declared that the Everfree Forest was now off-limits, as the interrogation had revealed that the Reds had fled there, apparently planning to hole up and live the winter by gathering and… hunting. Not really surprising, as even I had had to eat some meat during the last famine. But no matter how much you try to reason it, it’s still an act of barbarism. After a casual report of the state of the town’s food and arm wares, it was time for the most important announcement.

The funeral of the two murdered guards is going to be held tomorrow, along with the court martial of Berry Punch. I was asked to play something with my lyre, and grudgingly complied – I’m not really in the mood for that right now.

--

7. 2. 918

Dear Diary,

It has been a long day for everypony. In the hours of dawn, just at the time of the sunrise, the two murdered guards were escorted to the cemetery of Ponyville by a large group. The morning was one of the coldest this winter, and the night had brought a fresh layer of snow upon the ground. I was feeling strangely serene, and the situation reminded me of the nightmare I had a few days back. Not a word was said until we got to the site of their final rest – a pair of empty graves between two old and majestic snow-covered oaks. I have never been a fan of big funerals, and this was no exception. I played two sad hymns with my lyre, feeling just anxiousness when most of the crowd cried. The tears just didn’t come for me, though. I never even knew these two mares,  Sparkler and Apple Cobbler.

In front of their graves we sang some nationalistic songs about sacrifice and war. Can’t quite remember which ones, but the details are trivial anyway... What matters is that they died as heroes, what the speeches of the teary-eyed relatives of the deceased certainly anknowledged.

After the funeral, the mob started to wander from the cemetery to the City Hall, as it was time for the trial of Berry Punch. The sun had now risen higher in the sky, but the feeling of an impending doom in me didn’t fade away. No sound but the creak of our hooves on the snow could be heard – it was too cold a day for the birds to come out of the forest, and only the guardsponies assigned to protect the important buildings of the town were around. Everything looked stunningly beautiful as we walked: the sun’s rays danced around the branches of leafless trees and smoke slowly rose up from the chimneys of idyllic homes. Why did the pegasi even control the weather before, when it was naturally like this?

The silence finally broke when we were almost at the City Hall. I heard whispers and murmurs being traded in the crowd, and felt a sudden surge of loneliness when I realized there was nopony I could really talk to. The only mare I truly trusted was still in Fillydelphia.

But let’s not get sidetracked, dear diary! The trial went just like expected. Berry Punch said nothing for her defense as she was accused of treason and assisting in two murders. After some minutes of hesitation, Judge Spotless Suit declared the only possible punishment for her crimes: “It’s a pity that a mare like Berry Punch has fallen to serve a band of murderers and mutineers. I have taken into account that the Parliament has used manipulation and propaganda to convince ponies to fight for them. However, I must regrettingly inform that the only possible punishment for treason is death. The penalty will be carried out at sunset.”

A death penalty was certainly no surprise, but ponies around the large hall were still trading nervous glances, as it had been over a century since the last execution in Ponyville. The air was thick of doubt and fear – how many ponies would meet their end during this horrible crisis we’re in?

When I trod home, the deprissing feeling from the morning returned again. This time, however, it was broken when I saw that the red mailbox in front our old but lovely house wasn’t cowered in snow. Mail had arrived! Smiling for the first time in days, I hurried to the mailbox, swiftly snatched the letter and went inside the house. Not many a time has the bulky pine door slammed open with such a force.

The letter was certainly nothing like I had expected! Bon had written that her mother was buried yesterday and that she’d be moving back to Ponyville when the fighting on the Eastern front gets a bit less tense. That’s not likely to happen soon though. I wasn’t really surprised of how Bon had taken the death of her mother so well, as when her father died a year ago she had simply accepted the fact that everypony must go someday. After reading this letter I still have another source of worry, though – my wife had written that there’s no way she could be convinced to join the fighting on any side. I know her so well that I can be sure she’ll not take the fact that I joined the White Guard lightly. All I can do is hope that she understands.

Hoping Bon wouldn’t leave the city in too much hurry, I wrote a lengthy and reply, trying to put every emotion I had felt in the words. I made a decision not to mention the fact I joined the White Guard because of a crippling fear of making Bon angry... in hindsight it might not have been a good idea to keep information from her, but there’s nothing I can do now to change anything in the letter – it’s already being reviewed by the Guard before the mailponies can carry it over to Fillydelphia.

A quite lengthy entry, but I think it’s going to get even longer when I return from the… thing that’ll happen in the evening.

--

Equestria has become a ruthless, horrible place to live in. Why did we end up in a situation like this?

There were more ponies than in the Summer Sun Festival! An execution had brought together the whole town. When the time came, everypony’s gaze was locked onto the pink mare who was currently being escorted towards the ancient Pine of Blood, as it was called. In the old times this place, the Fellpony Field had been used as the site for executions. It had been long since the field was last used in this way, but the pine was still standing there like a monument of pain.

Ten ponies made up the execution squad. Most of them were from the Apple family, and looked eager to carry out the ultimate punishment, still the funeral of Apple Cobbler fresh in their mind. I couldn’t recognize the others, but it’s almost certain that they were some ponies close to Sparkler.

The executioners pulled the triggers with their mouths and magic, respectively. The horrible crackle of ten shots rang through the field, and was echoed by the nearby Everfree Forest. In front of the mob lay Berry Punch, slowly sliding to the ground, leaving a trail of crimson on the tree behind her.

There was nothing I could do to control myself anymore. My vision blurred as tears flooded from my eyes, the death of an unarmed, broken mare torturing my psyche. Saying nothing, I ran back to my house. It’s quite surprising I even found back here, as I saw almost nothing with my eyes all watery… and here I am now, still crying. I should be stronger than this, Celestia-damnit!

--

Someone knocked on the door. I didn’t open. There’s no reason to meet anypony.

--

That mare was persistent – yes, a mare, I peeked at her from the second-story window. Didn’t see her cutie mark, but the mare was a unicorn, the color of her body being a light hue of blue. What was more interesting was her mane, striped with blue and white.

She kept on knocking for half an hour, probably having seen me run here in tears. Perhaps I’ll open if she comes back some other day. But not now… I don’t want anypony to see me in a state this weak.