Eq Renaissance Part 26 (Ed)

    “I wanna go home,” Sweetie Belle cried.  The other two girls rolled their eyes.  It’s not that they blamed her; they felt the same.  It’s just that there was no point in saying it out loud anymore.  Not after all this time.
    “I’m hungry,” Sweetie added.
    “Yeah, yeah,” Scootaloo snapped back.  “We all are, you big dummy.”
    “Scootaloo!” Apple Bloom tried to warn her.
    “I’m cold!” Sweetie cried.
    “So am I!” Scootaloo shouted now.  “Would you shut up already!  I’m sick of you crying!”
    Sweetie Belle shut up, mostly from the insult, but her lower lip kept quivering.
    “Scootaloo, knock it off!” Apple Bloom scolded.
    “No, I won’t!” she defended herself.  “We’re all cold, we’re all hungry, we all want to go home.  There’s nothing we can do about it, and I’m sick of her crying about it.  That’s all she ever does!”
    “The nerve of you, Scootaloo!” Apple Bloom stuck both fists on her hips, just like her sister or grandmother would do in this sort of situation.  “You were crying your eyes out last night, and it was Sweetie that kept hugging you till you stopped!”
    Scootaloo’s mouth dropped open.  “Yeah, well...” There wasn’t anything she could say to counter that.  It was at this moment that Sweetie Belle started to break down completely.  She began sobbing all by herself in her little corner.  Scootaloo grimaced at her, then turned back to her current “adversary” Apple Bloom.  “Yeah, well, you cry too!”
    “Well, of course I cry, you numbskull.  That’s what I’m saying!  We’ve been locked in a dungeon for weeks!  We’re all going... aw, nuts to this.”  Apple Bloom decided there was no point in fighting, so she dropped it completely, and went over to where Sweetie Belle was huddled, and put her arms around her to comfort her.
    Scootaloo, at that particular moment, felt about as bad as ever.  After she was done sniffling and wiping away her own tears, she went over to help Apple Bloom deal with Sweetie Belle.
    “I miss my mom,” Sweetie Belle cried.  The other two squeezed harder.  “Where is she?  Why hasn’t she come yet?”
    “HEY!” Spike bellowed, and they were distracted from their current problems enough to watch the commotion.
    Spike wasn’t yelling at them.  He was pressed up against the bars of their cell, looking out.  His temples could squeeze through just enough so that he could look down the dungeon hallway.  “Hey, you!” Spike shouted, evidently at the approaching guard, whose footsteps could now be easily  heard.  “What have you got, this time?” Spike went on, in a strong, authoritative, demanding voice, or at least as strong and demanding as a voice could be for a boy his age.   “Just water, huh?  No food?  Again?”
    The girls at the back of the cell could see the guard now, he was in front of the bars, and kneeling down with a pitcher of fresh water.  The guard didn’t say anything.  The guards never did.  They’re all business.  The guard straightened back up, but couldn’t help but briefly make eye contact with Spike.  It wasn’t easy, the way the angry kid was trying to wedge himself between the bars.
    “Hey!” Spike barked.  “I know you!” The guard marched away, to the exit down the hall, opposite the way he came in.  “Yeah, I remember you.  I’ve seen you around before.  What’s your name again?  When me and Twilight used to live here.”  The guard solemnly ignored him and marched on.  “You remember me too, don'tcha?  Of course you do.  You guys know everybody that comes to the palace.  So how about some food, huh?”  Spike raised his voice as the guard walked away, not because the guard couldn’t hear, but because Spike was getting increasingly angry.  “We haven’t had food in days!  What?  Did she tell you not to feed us?  We’re just kids, you son-of-a-bitch!  We’re going to starve down here!  We can’t live on water!”  The guard was almost gone.   “Hey, it’s cold down here!  How about some blankets?  She didn’t tell you we couldn’t have blankets, did she?  Hey, your name’s Rock!  That’s it, you’re Rock!  We’re just kids!”
    The heavy wooden door shut hard behind the guard.  Maybe the guard had slammed it, it was hard to tell with heavy wooden dungeon doors.  Apple Bloom watched Spike’s knuckles turn white as he gripped the bars tight, then only slowly release.  There was dead silence.
    With the others now quiet, Apple Bloom got up and walked over to where Spike was still sulking by the bars.  She spent so much time dealing with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, she hadn’t thought much about how Spike was dealing with their situation.  “Hey,” she said.  Spike didn’t turn to look, his attention was still focused on the stone wall opposite their cell.  “Are you OK, Spike?”
    “I’m fine,” Spike grumbled, still without turning to look at her.
    “Hmm,” Apple Bloom was unconvinced.  “You know?  You kinda remind me of my sister right now.  She can get real stubborn sometimes.  She won’t complain about nothing though, no matter how bad things get, but she beats herself up over it, even though the problems ain’t her fault, you know?  Well don’t beat yourself up, Spike.  None of this is your fault.”
    “It is,” Spike said, barely above a whisper.
    “Is not,” Apple Bloom countered.  “Spike, you’re just a boy.  You can’t take the blame for this.  You’re only human, after all.”
    Now Spike turned to look at her.  Apple Bloom felt as if he could stare right through her.  He turned away again to stare at his wall.
    “What?”  Apple Bloom asked.
    Spike took a deep breath, and began to answer, though he didn’t want to look her in the eyes again.  He spoke softly, hoping that Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, still in the back of their cell, wouldn’t be listening.  “Things are bad,” he said.
    “Course they’re bad,” Apple Bloom said.
    “No,” Spike shook his head.  “No, you don’t understand.  I’m not just talking about us stuck here in this dungeon.  I’m not talking about Twilight or your sister missing, or this petty war in Africa.  It’s the scale of the thing Apple Bloom.  Nightmare Moon sits on the throne...”
    “You mean Princess Luna,” Apple Bloom said.  “My sister and Twilight and their friends defeated Nightmare Moon.”
    “No,” Spike said.  “Nightmare Moon was only pardoned, not defeated.  Her and Luna are one and the same.  They always were.  And now she’s overthrown her sister.  The Elements of Harmony have failed.   It’s like the olden times.  The Histories.  The Starswirl Histories.  The reign of the Demons of Chaos.  The Fall of the Crystal Kingdom.  The Changeling Invasion.  The Ogre War.  The Three Witches.  The Necromancer and the Sch’Ma’Utz...”
    “But Spike, none of those things are real,”  Apple Bloom laughed, uncomfortably.  “They’re just myths.  Nobody really believes in them.”  Spike stared right through her again.  “Right?  I mean... OK, I don’t know as much about magic as you do, but...”
    “You don’t have to believe them,” Spike sighed.  “My point is that everything is different now.  I should have realized that on that Summer Sun’s Eve.  We all should have.  Equestria’s enjoyed a thousand years of peace and normalcy, but now everything’s changed.  It will be like the dark days, before the modern record.  It’s going to be a war of great powers, and all the little people are going to get hurt.”
    “But... but there’s nothing you can do about that though, Spike.  You’re just a kid.  What can we do to stop anything?”
    “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.  I’m going to get the three of you out of this cell.  I can get you as far as Canterlot City, but then you’re going to have to find your own way back to Ponyville.”
    “What do you mean?” Apple Bloom asked.  “You’re not going to come with us?”
    “I’m going to send a message.”
    “To who?  To Twilight?”
    “No,” Spike growled, his teeth barred.

    A guard’s armored boots banged against the immaculately polished marble floor as he marched into the center of the throne room.  He stopped, turned to the throne, and bowed deeply before straightening to attention again.
    “What?” Luna asked rudely.  She had a leg hooked over one arm of the throne.  She had been picking at a fingernail before being interrupted by the sound of the guard.
    “There is a petitioner, ma’am,” the guard announced to nobody but Luna herself.  The rest of the throne room was empty.
    “What?  Again?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Is it Wednesday already?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “I haven’t had a petitioner in weeks.”  The guard was silent.  “Come to think of it,” Luna went on, “my sister dealt with those peons by the hundreds.  I don’t know how she put up with it.  Why have the stopped coming to me?”
    “I could not say, ma’am,” the guard answered.
    “Do you think I’ve scared them off?”
    “I could not say, ma’am.”
    “I only gave them what they were asking for.  Maybe not the way they thought they wanted it.  Be careful what you wish for, as they say.  You’d think they would have a better sense of humor.”
    The guard was silent.
    Luna frowned at him.  “Fine,” she waved her hand.  “Send him in.”
    The guard bowed, turned, and marched out the way he had come in.  A moment later another man walked in.  This man had boots too, but were leather, and well worn.  He looked like the lowliest of Luna’s peasants.  Oh, he had cleaned himself up to present himself to royalty, but he clearly wasn’t a part of the the Canterlot elite.  He took the same position the guard had, took off his hat and held it by his side, and bowed as deeply as the guard.  Luna let him stand there a moment and sweat.  His eyes were downcast, not daring to look Luna in the eye.  The guards had taught this man the basics of etiquette.   Maybe Luna would spare him.  “Name?” she asked.
    “Braeburn, your majesty,” the man said in a strange, almost foreign, drawl.  “Acting Sheriff of Appleoosa, if it please your majesty.”
    “Appleoosa?  What’s on the western frontier?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Luna rolled her eyes, but she was interested enough in this newcomer that she unhooked her legs from the throne, and started her long descent down the stairs to the throne room floor.  She stood directly in front of the man.  He was quite a bit taller than her, but she had all of the power.  He had to lower his eyes even further to avoid looking her in the eye.  This placed his vision squarely on her cleavage of her loose fitting gown.  The man was starting to sweat.  He wasn’t bad looking.  Almost handsome even.  “Are you married, Acting Sheriff Braeburn?” Luna asked.  Luna started to raise his chin up with her fingers, Braeburn kept trying to look further and further down.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he answered.  “Happily,” he added, without being asked.
    Luna’s lower lip stuck out in a pout.  The man was treading a thin line.  “What do you want?”
    “As Acting Sheriff, ma’am,” he began.  “I was recently part of a posse out of Appleoosa.  We were hunting the trail of a criminal gang.  Real nasty sorts.  Chased them well past the borders, past the frontiers.  I mean these were the nastiest sort of outlaws that you could-”
    “Just spit it out, cowboy,” Luna said, she didn’t have time for this.
    Braeburn looked her straight in the eye.  “The man who led them called himself Discord.”
    Luna actually took a step back in surprise.  Goose bumps rose on her pale arms.  There was a pregnant pause as she considered the consequences of what this man was telling her.
    “You saw Discord?” she asked, still stunned.
    “In the flesh,” Braeburn said.  “Or whatever he might be made of.  He threatened my hearth and home.”
    “In Appleoosa?  But he hasn’t actually done anything?  He hasn’t crossed the border?”
    “No ma’am,” Braeburn said.  “But that’s the thing-”
    “Acting Sheriff.  You’re only an Acting Sheriff.”  It was a statement, not a question.
    “Yes, ma’am.  I’ve recently succeeded the Sheriff proper.  Sheriff Silverstar.  He was a good man, ma’am.  Loyal to your service.  As noble a hero as any man can be.”
    “Sure, cowboy, I’ll give him a medal.  He was killed.”
    “Shot in an ambush.  He had been leading our posse.”
    “Shot by Discord?  In Equestria?”
    “Past the border, ma’am.  And not by Discord.  But one of his men.”
    “That still makes him an accomplice.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “He’s equally guilty of murder.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “He’s slain one of my men.  One of my officers.  A servant and official of Equestria.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “That violates the terms of our agreement.”
    “I was supposin’ so, ma’am.”
    “As Acting Sheriff, you have no actual legal authority beyond Appleoosa.  Technically you have no legal authority at all, even in Appleoosa, pending a proper promotion to Sheriff.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “That would change if you were a Marshall.”
    “That’s why I’ve come here today, ma’am,” Braeburn smiled.  “To ask for your grace.”
    She smiled back up at him.  “Take a knee,” she ordered.
    Braeburn’s reflexes were fast.  He immediately bent down on one knee before Luna.  Luna’s reflexes were faster.  As he was kneeling, she grabbed the butt of his gun, and pulled it from the holster on his belt.  She snapped open the cylinder.  All six chambers were empty, naturally.
    “Guard!” Luna called out.  The guard immediately appeared at the door.  “His bullets,” she held out her hand.  The guard quickly walked over to his princess, reaching into his pocket for the six .45 caliber bullets that he had confiscated.  He placed them in the palm of her hand, then marched back out of the throne room again.
    Luna deftly loaded the chambers, then snapped the cylinder shut again.  She placed the barrel on the shoulder of Braeburn, who now had his head solemnly bent towards the floor.  “I hereby raise you a Marshall in my Royal Service.”  She placed the barrel on his other shoulder.  “Braeburn, Knight of Appleoosa,  Sheriff of Appleoosa County.  The Right Hand of my Crown, Enforcer of my Law and Will, both home and abroad.  Now get up.”
    Braeburn stood straight up.  He placed his hat back on his head. The heavy revolver looked too large for Luna’s petite hand, but she easily slung it around to present the grip back to Braeburn.  He took it, spun it on his finger, then swung it around again to place it in his holster at the angle that he liked it.
    “He’ll try to trick you,” she warned.
    “I understand that, ma’am.”
    “He’ll still have to follow the rules, though.  More or less.”
    “I reckoned as much.”
    “You’ve only got six shots to use.  Think you can do it?  He’s a true demon from the ancient world, not a mortal man like you.”
    “Should only take one, right ma’am?” Braeburn asked.
    Luna smiled up at him.  “Go get the bastard,” she said.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a crooked smile, and he tipped his hat at her.  Not like a Canterlot elite would do, but like a Westerner would do, he was his own man, a hero, like of old.  Then he turned and strolled from the room.  He practically mosied.
    “See you later, Cowboy,” Luna called to him, retaking her place on the throne, thinking evil thoughts.

    Spike and the girls all heard the approaching guard.  Even Spike was too hungry and weak to get up to badger him again.  They watched him stop in front of the cell, and put the same old pitcher of water on the floor.  Next to that, he placed a stack of wool blankets.  There were four of them.  Thick.  Soft.  Warm.
    The girls rushed up to retrieve them.  “Thank you, mister!” they called after him, as he made his usual rounds down the hall.  “Thank you, thank you!”  The guard’s face was as motionless as stone.
    The girls retreated back to the end of the cell, after giving Spike his blanket, to curl up underneath them and get warm.  Spike remained still until the heavy wooden door shut with that familiar thud.  He waited until the count of ten, then leapt up from where he had been sitting.  He tried to squeeze himself between the bars far enough to see that the hall was empty, then he rushed to the back of the cell and ripped away the blankets from the girls, just as they had started to get a little comfortable.
    “Hey!” Scootaloo yelled.
    “What?” Apple Bloom asked.
    “Those are ours!” Sweetie Belle cried.
    Spike ignored them.  He threw them flat out on the floor, picked up the pitcher of water, and started to pour it all over there new blankets.
    “What the hell you doing?” Scootaloo screamed.
    “You’re getting them wet!”  Sweetie cried.  “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”
    Apple Bloom would have freaked out too, but she noticed Spike was being careful with where he was pouring.  He was getting the blankets wet all over, on purpose.  He had some sort of plan.  So instead of yelling, she grabbed Scootaloo’s arm.  By the way her hands were balled into fists, she was ready to punch Spike in the nose.
    “I think he’s got a-”
    “Sit back down,” Spike instructed.  “Exactly where you were.”
    “What?” Scootaloo asked.
    “Just do it,” Apple Bloom said.  “Just do what he says.”
    Apple Bloom practically dragged both Scootaloo and Sweetie back to where they had been seated on the stone floor.  With that, Spike hefted up the soaked blankets, and threw them over the girls.
    “What are you doing?” Scootaloo screamed.
    “What?” Apple Bloom asked.
    “This is cold!” Sweetie Belle shrieked.
    “Stay under those blankets,” Spike ordered.  “Your feet, your fingers, your head, even your hair.”  Spike stood in the center of their cell, facing the bars.  He took a deep breath, then turned back to warn the girls again.  “Under the blankets, now!  Apple Bloom, keep them underneath those blankets.”
    Apple Bloom pulled the blanket over Scootaloo’s face, as she was defying Spike and wanted to watch.  Yet Apple Bloom herself couldn’t help but take one last look.  Spike was taking a series of breaths, each larger than the last.  She could see his ribs expanding each time.  Then he took one last huge breath, like a tremendous yawn or terrible sneeze.  Apple Bloom instinctively ducked back under the blanket at the last possible moment.
    The room exploded.  None of them had any desire to peek out of the blankets anymore.  There was a terrible light shining right through the thick, wet wool.  It was white, tinted a strange green.  They weren’t cold anymore.  It was suddenly hot, and growing hotter.  The blanket quickly became too hot to the touch, but they didn’t let go.  All three of them were screaming, but they couldn’t hear themselves over the impossible roar coming from Spike.
    Then as quick as it had started, it was over.  They threw the blankets off of themselves, and almost regretted it,  the whole cell now felt like a sauna.  Billows of white steam were coming off of their discarded blankets.  They barely noticed that in the glare of the bright lights.  There were a series of white lights, in a great ring in front of Spike.  They soon faded to a bright, burning yellow.  No, they weren’t lights.  They faded to orange.  They were the molten stumps of the steel bars that were no longer there.  Even at the back of the cell, the girls could feel the intense heat of the molten metal.  The wall opposite was charred black.  As for Spike, he was still standing exactly where he was.  His clothes were now rags dropping off is body, black and smouldering, in some places still lit with open flame.  The skin beneath was still white and unblemished.  His hair was unburnt.
    “Come on,” he said.  “I’m getting you out of here.  Just like I said I would.”

    Celestia strolled up an empty beach.  Heavy gray clouds rolled across the sky.  The sea itself was gray.  Later today it would be stiflingly hot, but it was still early in the morning, and the wind blew off the sea, and it was cold.  Here and there the beach was empty, save the burnt out hulk of a boat or armored vehicle.  She just as soon hoped not to run into anybody.
    Towards the land, she could hear the distant booming of artillery.  That could be the enemy.  That could be her men.  That could be her own men fighting amongst themselves.  There had been mutinies.  There had been desertions.  Some of these boats had once been filled with her men as they attempted to sail all the way back to Equestria by themselves.  She couldn’t really blame them.  Their forces had been doomed since the moment the supplies had been cut off.
    It wasn’t that she didn’t care.  It’s that there were much graver threats to worry about, and exposing herself would only get more people hurt.  She had cut off all communication from her top officers.  She had barely said a word to anybody since the Second Treason.
    There was a small burst of magical green flame next her shoulder, a ribbon-wrapped scroll appearing in mid-air.  She reached out with her palm to catch it before it fell in the sand, and sighed.  There was some communication she couldn’t cut off, even if she had wanted to.


    Celestia,

    Twilight is gone.  I don’t know what this means for your interpretation of her prophecy, but I assume it’s either very good or very bad.
    Meanwhile, the Usurper sits on your throne.  The Elements of Harmony, your crown jewels, are gone.  And what do you do?  You squat there in the bush, doing nothing while Equestria falls.
    Maybe you fancy this as some larger-than-life game of chess.  And you’re too afraid to move because you’ve found yourself in check.  And now, even worse, your queen has been taken out of play.
    Well, this is not a game.  And I’m sick and tired of playing it.  If you’re not going to move, I will.
    I’m going to take on Nightmare Moon personally.  Oh, I know what this means for my own safety.  But what’s the point of an immortal life if it’s as miserable as yours?
    What I don’t know is what this is going to mean for whatever deal it is that you’ve worked out with my father.  Yes, I figured out a thing or two on my own.  I’m going to have to assume he’s not going to be happy.  So now you’re going to have both Nightmare Moon and him breathing down your neck.  Which one are you more afraid of, I wonder?
    Maybe now you’ll finally make your move.  I’d like to wait until Twilight comes back too, but I can’t.  Hopefully now you won’t wait anymore either.
    I’ll do what I can to bring her down a peg or two.  Maybe you can finish the rest.  Just don’t let this be in vain.
    This will be our last goodbye.

    -Spike