An Advancing Banner

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>~{Day 183}~
>A few weeks passed since Spirited Charge let his...bombastic personality be known to you through text.
>Though the war was on, each horse in the race to domineer one another, it would seem that nothing too interesting had happened on the Saghaic front.
>You supposed he hadn't done anything worthy of being deemed glorious or of significant recognition.
>Then again, telling you and Siltsong he was on the move probably was quite boring in comparison.
>If anything, looking over supply manifests were probably more entertaining than just telling you Spirited Charge was trotting to the next battle.
>Ready to flaunt his prowess for aggressive, shock combat like a peacock setting its feathers on display for all to admire its grandeur.
>But for now, it was time for the less-than-interesting aspect of warfare.
>Well, unless you were an accountant who had a fat hard-on for comparing the stocks of certain armaments and their effectiveness on the battlefield, plus a more detailed examination at what was really the "best."
>In the time of tribulations and trials over yonder in Equestria, it was safe to say that much more riveting news would be coming in soon.
>At the moment, you and Siltsong were out and about, a day on the town of Canterlot.
>Bein' a little real with yourself for a minute, you couldn't spend every minute of every day in the Embassy's bedroom.
>Internet didn't exist here in Equestria, and it was good to get out and stretch your legs.
>Alongside that astute observation, it was an absolutely gorgeous day that couldn't be wasted indoors.
>The cloud covert had finally parted for the first time in a very long while.
>Vast, rich cobalt-blue spanned the skies with the golden Sun as the radiant setting in that heavenly crown.
>Despite the wintry chill that snaked throughout the streets, its icy grasp still evident as it had ever been, the day was one amongst the few truly idyllic instances since your arrival in this war-torn Equestria.
>As you and your beloved fiance strolled about the town, you felt her side press affectionately against your leg.
>Not enough to topple you, but clearly showing her mareish affection.
>A small, soft smile adorning your features, you pet her right between the ears as smooth mane runs between your fingers.
>Siltsong cooed contentedly, her head pressing against your hand as you gave her a good petting.
>While that familiar warmth surged from within, the voice of a younger pony nearby was calling your attention.
>"...Canterlot Courant exclusive! Commander Rainbow Dash fights back against King Sombra! New Commander sent west! All this and more in this exclusive issue!"
>Hearing the rounding call of the papercolt, it seemed a lot was in store for your next read.
>Parting from your mare for just a moment, you squaddle on over to acquire the new paper.
"How much for a copy?"
>You question, withdrawing your coin purse whilst you await for the papercolt to list the price for an issue.
>The young colt gives you a wide smile, eager to make his next sale to you.
>"Only two bits, Mister! You really don't wanna miss anything today!"
>Forking over the penance for the news, the unicorn colt hoofs over the latest in the Canterlot Courant's publication to you in the glow of his magic.
>"Pleasure doing business with ya, Mister!"
>Giving him a nod as you take it in hand, the papercolt waves goodbye before returning to his routine.
>Returning to your Siltsong, she tilted her head as her curiosity was made apparent.
>"What does it say, Anonymous? Anything we ought to know?"
>Rather than slapping her with what the both of you likely overheard, you unfurl the newspaper to see if anything else would catch the fancy of you and your mare.
>The feature title was, of course, pertaining to the sudden advance of Equestria's Royal Guard.
>'Royal Guard Fights Back, Commander to Retake Northern Badlands,' enthusiastically read the headline.
>You supposed some pony was moving up in the world.
>Last when the story of the Easternmost Front was brought to your attention, she was but a Lieutenant.
>Apparently, the previous commander had resigned from their post following concerns brought up about their health.
>Must have been a military leader from neolithic times, back when they were still whacking each other over the head with wooden clubs and shit.
>Naturally, Dash was expected to rise up to the challenge and fill the vacuum left behind after the previous leader abdicated.
>Which, of course, she did end up doing.
>Her distaste for being on the defensive for so long had finally crystallized with her first action as commandant of all things on the Eastern Front - launch the first real counteroffensive against Sombra's forces.
>The 'Northern Badlands,' as that papercolt had termed it, had been lost in the opening stages of the Crystal War.
>Locked within a mountain basin, it was shielded from several angles of attack and served as a well-fortified staging ground for King Sombra's puppeteered crystal ponies to assault Equestria's eastern lands.
>With its location so close to the main rail lines between the interior heartland of Equestria to the far-flung cities of Manehattan, Fillydelphia and Baltimare, its strategic validity for capture could not be ignored.
>From what could be cleared to print, it seemed the decision to strike back was succeeding in its early stages.
>Perhaps the opposing forces had not predicted such a bold maneuver, perhaps Rainbow Dash knew exactly where to break the entrenched crystal ponies.
>Either way, it was just the remarkable success necessary to give hope to all under the Sun Princess' stewardship.
>Believe it or not, being dealt so many backhand blows, one immediately after the other and losing ground day after day didn't exactly feel good.
>Though, other than that, other news was sparse about conflict flaring up again out East.
>Turning your attention elsewhere, you wanted to see the new face in charge.
>In lieu of the previous timid leadership of the last general, Princess Celestia had...reassigned another pony to take charge out there.
>A promising new Commander by the name of Twilight Sparkle.
>Fresh out of the military academy and a bit by the books, there were some concerns that this wouldn't change much.
>However, Celestia had plenty of faith in her new subordinate general, believing that Commander Twilight could change the situation in the West.
>The general that had come before her was given a lateral "promotion" by being sent to garrison the southern frontiers.
>They wouldn't be protecting the absolute frontiers of the Kingdom, such as the Hayseed Swamps, the Forbidden Jungle, or the Badlands proper.
>It made at least some sense, given that it was so far out of the way and to guard it would stretch the front lines much more than they honestly needed to be.
>What precious horsepower the Royal Guard had at its disposal, it wasn't to be wasted whenever it could be better used elsewhere.
>Those living at the Southern-Southwestern fringes wouldn't enjoy the security of the Royal Guard, an unfortunate implication that was brought to light in the compromises made to win this war.
>Another snippet of news came from the Western Front, mentioning that the battle for Los Pegasus had begun in earnest.
>Technically, it had been going on following the crossing of the river weeks ago, as the resulting siege began.
>The defenders of the city had not been spending their time gambling and drinking, as they had constructed some impressive fortifications in the time that it took for the brainwashed crystal ponies to meet them there.
>With the abundant supplies of Los Pegasus and the sweltering desert to punish the invader, it was to be a grueling affair for the Dark Tyrant.
>Reports had surfaced that the crystal ponies had attempted an assault to breach the pallisade.
>It was defeated and repelled through tenacity, courage, and a healthy garrison.
>Outside of the smaller skirmishes happening elsewhere along the front line, a new flight wing had made itself quite known.
>An aerial group known as the Shadowbolts - presumably a bootleg of the Wonderbolts - had been contracted by the crown to serve as the Wonderbolts did.
>However, their skills in flight manifested...differently.
>Whereas the Wonderbolts had been doing vital reconnaissance missions, the Shadowbolts played a more directly offensive hand.
>According to the Canterlot Courant, they acted as an "Aerial Grenadier" wing.
>So...the closest they had to bombers?
>You mentally shrugged, leaving it up for more pedantic individuals than yourself to decide the matter.
>Anywho, the Shadowbolts were sometimes referred to as the Night Witches.
>Namely, because of their penchant to prefer - yes, you guessed it - night raids.
>Striking when the Sun went down, they utilized hoof grenades to terrorize and decimate their opponents from the air.
>These weren't the pineapple-lookin' motherfuckers, no, these were the classic black round balls with a fuse long enough to make sense for air attacks.
>The kind that was probably just as good at killing the sender than the recipient of the package.
>And, unfortunately, there were a couple reported...accidents.
>Disregarding the danger, these gutsy poners served with distinction, their mettle was without question.
>These Shadowbolts - or Night Witches, whichever you preferred for coolification maximus - did have a newfound intraservice rivalry with the Wonderbolts.
>So far, it appeared "friendly" enough to not hinder operational integrity.
>Hopefully, it would simply remain as that.
>And with that, there was little other brought up from the frontlines.
>This was not to discredit the homefront, by any means.
>The most critical news was that the shipments from the other side of the Celestial Sea had been arriving.
>Supplies arrived from Griffonstone, taking stress off their many inhabitants.
>With the issue of an internal refugee crisis, it mattered now more than ever.
>The relative safety of Eastern Equestria due to the lessened risk of an incursion from the Crystal Empire had drawn them like moths to a flame, though it had been a herculean task to find a place for them to stay.
>Hell, even feeding the mass influx had become a trying matter.
>Machinations out of their control had, at first, damned them...
>Now, one might be able to hope that they would keep looking up for them.
>Those displaced ponies didn't need to suffer any more than they already had.
>Flipping through the rest of the pages, you had a hard time finding anything else of interest.
>All that remained were just..ads and little snippets of local happenings.
>Nothing that seemed to really enrapture you, to be frank.
"Well, it looks like the War's turning around, at least here in Equestria. Don't know if that's a fair call to make yet, but it's out there for thought."
>Siltsong's ears stood at attention, the news having definitely intrigued her.
>"How so, my precious harmony? Equestria has been on the receiving end of the Crystal 'Empire's' blows this whole time."
>Feeling that special little thing called hope swelling from within your bosom at the bulletin, you gave your take on the matter.
"Well first off, those supplies you helped negotiate over some weeks ago with those hookbeaks are helping relieve the suffering of a lot of ponies. That alone goes very far."
>Reminded of her accomplishment, Siltsong shyly pawed at the ground with a hoof, tracing it in circles.
>"It was a group effort, more than anything, Anonymous...I played my part, as did the others at that bargaining table."
>For representing one of the key players in this war, Siltsong was quick to shift the focus from herself.
>Did she not like it when someone brought up her achievements?
"And, there is also all that hubbub about Rainbow's counterattack. So far, it's going good, and Twilight's taking charge out west."
>Your aristocratic mare had never heard that name in the time she had been situated in Canterlot, judging by the surprise plasterd across her face.
>"Twilight? Who might she be? I don't think I've heard her name before, and if I have, I've certainly forgotten it by now."
>Glancing back to the headlines, you reread to make sure you gathered the details correctly.
"She's a native Canterlot unicorn, attended the School for Gifted Unicorns before she, y'know, took up the reins of joining military academia. Princess Celestia has a lot of good to say about her; 'a natural, born leader and a penchant for organizing ponies,' if this quote is to be believed."
>Taking in every word of detail, Siltsong mulled over the snippets of information she had received.
>"I think I see what you're getting at now, Anonymous..."
>Whilst she glanced about the gathering of Canterlot unicorns coming from all around, forming a small crowd as they got their daily dose of information, you directed your attention back momentarily to the Courant in your hand.
>As you had sifted through it to find an extended passage about Twilight Sparkle's new role as a commander, another little tidbit of something captured your attention.
>From the thin sliver of information that you saw, it appeared to be some kind of event.
>It did require a bit of searching, as it was buried between the major headlines and other local happenings.
>You were eventually successful in your quest to find what it was, nestled amongst the notices for such marvelous inventions that overcomplicated a simple process.
>At the Canterlot Opera House, a special performance was going to be orchestrated by a very talented bunch of hoofers.
>Didn't sound strict to the libretti and its musical tradition, but they did say it was a special main act.
>"The King's Long Dream," it was called.
>Aside from a very abstract title, the notice explained it would be showing for about a week or two, as well as the lead performers.
>There was, included, some fine print that you could just barely make out.
>However, with your CSI forensics unit, you had the ability to accomplish the impossible.
>You could enhance that image, clean it up a little bit more.
>Throw in a bit of color contrast between the text and backdrop, for good measure.
>Oh, and you squinted, turning the thing a few degrees clockwise and counterclockwise alongside that.
>Hey, look, a mission statement!
>Or something.
>'For a limited time, we extend a hoof to all who will come to a one-of-a-kind performance in the coming days. "The King's Long Dream" is a story of ambition, power, valiance, betrayal, vengeance - all this and more in a mystifying, ancient epic.'
>And that was about all they could fit in for the description.
>Not that it wasn't impressive, given the large amount of characters.
>Good thing you knew how to say 'enhance' and pretend squinting magnified the image to some degree.
>Your interested had been piqued, as it seemed like they really wanted people and ponies to come.
>Mulling it around, an epiphany crossed your mind.
>If it was relatively open, the show sounded as if it might be something interesting to do.
>Mayhaps the opera was a little bit of an upper-crust activity, but as that may be...
>Why not see how it might be?
>Attend the show with your sweetheart, and spend the day together like that?
>Beat just wandering aimlessly and hoping you'd find something to do in this Ivory Capital, didn't it?
"Hey, sweetest? You wanna go check out this show at the Opera House?"
>A question out of the blue, Siltsong was reasonably perplexed.
>"Oh? What's showing, Anonymous? Didn't take you as one for the opera."
>Directing her to the plug for the showing, you point to where you think the name was with your index finger.
"'The King's Long Dream,' you know anything about it? They seem very proud to be hosting it."
>Between hearing the name of the act and her reaction to it, there was but a few seconds of contemplation.
>Your sweetheart was awash with excitement, the name of the event striking some familiarity with the mare.
>"That show? I've been meaning to see it for some time, but I haven't seen any openings in so long! Other ponies have had a lot of good to say about it, in recesses of negotiations and mettings."
>Witnessing her immense jubilance at the idea of having some free time to catch a showing of 'The King's Long Dream,' you thought you had found the perfect activity for both you and your mare to share.
"Why not finally go see it together? It's the perfect time for all that."
>Lightly leaping and abounding with joy, in place, Siltsong gave a very enthused nod of approval.
>"You're right, Anonymous! Let's get going, before we miss a chance to see it!"
>A happy pony was a cute pony; going by that indisputable, wholly factual and rigorously-tested formula, Siltsong was absolutely adorable in that moment.
>Given that you loved to see her happy, that radiant and gorgeous smile, it would not do to errantly wait around and admire the crowd coming for news.
>And so, with Siltsong by your side, a man and his mare left to see the works of minstrels.
>Sharing the day with one another, and letting love blossom as the just sun shone above.
>Siltsong led the way to the Canterlot Opera House, trotting out ahead of you with such an enthused and jubilant spring to her step.
>Before you ever crossed into Equestria, Hell, before even its existence crossed your ears...
>You didn't think anything could carry such an excited and trully, wholesomely happy demeanor as your mare did.
>It was impossible for you to not smile in kind, dare you say if only because hers was just so pure and infectious.
>Between the indisputable, inherent sweetness of these marshmallow equines and the gorgeous day, it was not long at all before you stood at the steps of the grand Opera House.
>Just like almost every-fucking-thing in this city, it was given the ivory with gold embroidery flair.
>With the general gloominess of the outside world, it would almost seem...out of place, for such luxury and flagrantly-displayed wealth.
>Dreary clouds hanging overhead, casting less light than on a day like this.
>Only in the illustrious and welcoming light of the sun would it shine in its true glory, the gold gleaming and glistening; the lacquered ivory complimenting the gold as the base for its setting.
>However, you weren't a city planner, here to pick apart the architecture autistically and pedantically.
>You were a man with his pony fiance, going to see an operatic show she was looking quite forward to.
>Never in your life did you think that last sentence would make logical sense and be perfectly contextual.
>But hey, surely weirder shit has happened in your time here, has it not?
>Not exactly one to be flinging stones with yourself.
>Siltsong gestured for you to come along, and not get too focused on your next internal monolgue.
>Naturally, of course, you did.
>Though ponies and the occasional human were forming quite the crowd, you and your mare had managed to arrive early enough to avoid waiting forever in a line.
>Now, that didn't exactly mean you weren't going to have to wait a bit to get in.
>Because that was the case.
>Perhaps Siltsong's earlier excitement with the idea of attending the show had an extra layer of credence.
>Must've been at least somewhat popular, to draw a gathering this large.
>Either that, or the group performing it was renown throughout the lands for something McFucking magical.
>Guess you had to simply wait and see for yourself.
>Eventually, you and Siltsong did arrive at the entryway to the Opera, upon which you noticed that there resided a pony behind a ticket booth.
>Didn't say anything about this being a free exhibit...
>Before either of you were able to ask about the price of admission, the operator of the booth pointed upwards with a hoof.
>Perhaps they were tired of people waddling on up and asking what was glaringly obvious by a simple curosry glance.
>Or they just didn't like talking too much.
>Either way, the both of you had an answer - about twenty-five bits per pony/person for a particularly good spot.
>Of course, the less-than-desirable seats in the house were much cheaper.
>Twenty-five bits was a bit pricy, but not as much as the groceries.
>Though your coin-purse might scream in agony, you would be willing to pay the toll.
>They can't do this shit for pony hot pockets, after all.
>Now, if that price was doubled you'd better see some ball-blisteringly fantastical stuff.
>After sifting through your coin purses, you and Siltsong both forked over the fifty bit total, and soon thereafter received the slips of paper that proved you weren't breaking in to steal panties or some shit like it's Spongebob up in here.
>Giving the both of you a half-hearted "enjoy the show," the attendant sent you and Siltsong off on the merry way, ordering the next batch to come along and pay up.
>Glancing down at the ticket, you take in the details of where you would be going, though you likely had no idea where specifically that may be.
>Afterwards, you looked back over to your better half, wanting to see if she was ready for this next leg of the journey.
>Whilst you may have been anticipating the show in question a little bit, y'know, as something else to do, your mare's enthusiasm still remained just as evident as ever.
>You supposed there was plenty to be looking forward to, on her end at the very least.
>Choosing to not hold up the line, you and your mare skidaddled off to find your seats.
>A magical adventure unlike any other, indeed quite a riveting tale.
>So riveting, in fact, that you forgot what it was like.
>Instead, you now knew that you were in the top rear seating and the show was going to begin whenever everyone was packed in like sardines.
>The curtain was still down, allowing the actors, orators, dancers and stage technicians to set everything up.
>If you could see them so early, it would be like seeing the little magic people inside your old computer do all those nice things for you.
>Completely ruins the immersion that you're actually doing all those menial, tedious tasks or having a whole one fun when the stars aligned.
>As you got comfortable in your seat, beginning to form a nice you-shaped indentation, the sensation of velvety and warm fur made itself apparent against your side.
>Siltsong rested against you, hugging your arm and resting her head atop your shoulder.
>Seems like she was perfectly prepared, cozying up for a snuggle before the show would begin.
>Moments before the curtain went up, you gave your affectionate mare a kiss on the forehead, feeling her squeeze your arm just a bit tighter.
>Sitting there with Siltsong, everything was as it should be.
>A man and his mare, nary a love purer or warmer than it.
>Though riveting to detail just how wondeful it was to be betrothed to someone so sweet, the first act and scene of this opera was beginning.
>The lights dimmed and the curtain revealed the setting of what you had come for.
>From what you could determine, the opening scene was that of a throne room or other central hall to a palace, with a decidedly oriental flair.
>Hmm...
>Now what did that remind you of, those deliberate architectural choices?
>Your suspicions would be confirmed in due time, as the actors would begin their piece.
>The setting was within the mythical era possibly before recorded Equestrian history, however, this most decidedly wasn't Equestria.
>Set back thousands of years in the ancient Kingdom of Saghai, under the reign of a King Ironbound, surrounded by a multitude of other states.
>The Itgemjit, Bambai, and Khöngön-Zürkh to the West, North, and East repsectively.
>And to the South, the mighty Fenghuo that ruled everything the northern kingdoms hadn't.
>All of these kingdoms, you had absolutely no context or understanding of.
>Your time with Siltsong had not yielded a whole lot in Saghaic history, as a lot of your effort had been focused on the language aspect.
>Though, instead of elbowing her and asking for a quick and quiet lecture, you chose to remain silent and let the show tell you.
>Around this innumberable year, and the opening to the show, King Ironbound was hearing what a courier from the Fenghuo had requested of them.
>Apparently, the ancient Saghaic kingdom was a tributary to the Fenghuo, giving whatever worldly wealth demanded of them to the Son of Heaven.
>There was that term again...
>What exactly did that entail, beyond great respect from the Saghai ponies?
>As your mind mulled over the details, the story continued without your thoughts.
>King Ironbound was certainly displeased to be in the situation he had been in ever since coming to power, and lived under for as long as he could remember.
>However, Ironbound was content in his rule, his stewardship over Saghai ancestral lands.
>With this latest round of tribute, much greater than the last from the balking of the court of nobleponies, was met with hostility by almost all the courtiers in the scene.
>All except for the level-headed monarch.
>Well, he did appear a bit miffed at the heightened tax levied against his nation.
>Fuckin' other gubmint, comin' to take from his mound of shekels.
>He conceded what the Son of Heaven was owed in accordance to his envoy's word, much to the chagrin of his vassals.
>Around this point, a true musical number began, a sort of "debate" between Ironbound and the nobleponies.
>It opened with one of the more hawkish court denizens encouraging the king to stand up to this clearly unjust measure.
>As they orated their grievances, the instruments began to hum their ambiance.
>It set the atmosphere, taut as a bowstring and palpable as the stench of burning black powder.
>Though violence...likely wasn't going to happen, but it felt as though the situation could turn much more dour.
>King Ironbound didn't appear too surprised to see his subordinate speak out of turn quite like that, but began to calmly explain through song that it was within the bounds of a suzerain.
>More of his courtiers began to speak up, wishing not to remain under the hooves of their overlords, a proud and burning desire to break free.
>Their nation deserved better than this denegration, they cried in a rancorous shout.
>It was a chorus of disharmony, encouraging the fomenting of a proper rebellion.
>As it continued to roar in its own tense and curiously beautiful way, they talked of rumors about the Fenghuo monarchs.
>Tales of corruption beyond what was to be expected, or tolerated for that matter.
>Stories of their fall from justice and a descent into decadence within their position as the de facto lords of the known world.
>Which, in this instance, meant the area that comprised the modern Saghai Empire.
>Often, the gentry that filled Ironbound's court would drop mentions of how they deviated from the far western land's traditional ethics - a most grave accusation.
>As their musical ravings continued, the orchestra at the front built the tension so palpable in the air, their instrument conveying a growing crescendo until it hit a short and powerful high note.
>The ancient Saghaic king had about enough of that nonsense, silencing his vassals with a quite commanding voice.
>Whomever these ponies got to play the part of the king was damn fine at catching one's attention.
>Having enough of their squabbling, Ironbound reminded his courtiers that to rebel against the Fenghuo - the southern lands that held the Mandate of Heaven - was to rebel against the will of Heaven itself.
>He would have none of it, and sticking to his apparent convictions about what was just, would not instigate a rebellion without proper proof of their accusations.
>Actual war was more destructive than relinquishing wealth, and without a proper clause he would not subject his people to a destructive conflict.
>The instrumental ambiance had faded out, replacing their tense melody with the equally taut silence.
>Eventually, the nobleponies conceded their position, grumbling and grovelling that their King was lucky that he held such esteem amongst the people.
>With that 'tism storm done and done with, the day was henceforth relatively normal.
>It was, in fact, uneventful enough to not merit being penned for the libretti.
>The next scene afterwards was of King Ironbound coming to rest for the night, musing on how vocal his courtiers had been.
>Out of turn, they demanded he take more action than just yielding to their suzerain.
>Though he had admittedly entertained thoughts of telling the Fenghuo to go fuck themselves, but hadn't a strong desire to dismantle the established tributary system.
>Content with things as they were, some unpleasant, though overall not unbearable, the king drifted off to sleep.
>The scene began to shift into something resembling what could be termed a dream.
>Perhaps where the show got its name was beginning now, with the Saghaic king finding himself lost in it.
>From his reaction, he was presumably somewhat lucid.
>Glancing around his surroundings, it appeared to be his own bedroom.
>Something, however, was quite off.
>His room had several additions that weren't there before, such as doors from rooms that didn't belong to the Saghaic palace, or even whole sections of room replaced in such a way.
>How these ponies had so drastically altered the stage so quickly, you have no idea.
>That was a different tangent entirely, however.
>With little time to ask what sorcery was underhoof, Ironbound watched on as a door opened and nobleponies of the Fenghuo came through.
>Before he could even shout and sputter, demanding the meaning of this intrusion on his now-disjointed private quarter, they began to converse amongst themselves.
>They, these Fenghuo ponies, apparently didn't even know the king was there.
>No matter the words that came out of Ironbound's mouth, the Fenghuo paid him no attention.
>The stallion was relegated to watch and listen to the conversation before him.
>And from the moment he actually tuned in, he was mortified.
>Everything his courtiers had spoken of was entirely correct.
>The Fenghuo administration was wholly corrupt, down to the now-rotten core.
>Their nobles jeeringly spoke of how they defied the long-standing values expected of the heavenly kingdom.
>Not only did they levy unjust tribute demands from the other kingdoms, they pressed their people with such impossibly-high demands.
>While they took in an incredible amount of wealth, they neglected the stewardship of their country.
>So gleefully did they admit it, that the levies along a great river that had burst and devastatingly flooded the lower districts of their city was more likely than not their doing.
>So far did the corruption go, that the "Son of Heaven" himself - later shown as the Fenghuo nobles walked offstage - was obsessed with collecting and hoarding wealth as though he were a dragon.
>His avarice knew no limit, only so focused on acquiring more in its insatiable appetite for gold.
>And, in a way, King Ironbound felt as though he enabled that to continue despite the pleading of vassals.
>The next proceeding musical number began as a sort of questioning of all he knew, a sort of falling into despair at how he shored up such flagrant irresponsibility.
>How Heaven must be displeased with him, he cried aloud in the song.
>As the dream was coming to a close, something had fallen from the throne of the disgraced "Son of Heaven," a crown most unusual.
>Instead of being the typical lump of golden shit you'd be expecting, it possessed a vivid electric blue primary color, with what looked like large pearls and other assorted gemstones.
>Not falling apart or shattering, somehow, it came to Ironbound's hooves...
>Out of his curiosity regarding the object, he set one hoof on this fallen crown.
>The moment he did, the dream had collapsed around him, the stallion finding himself once again in his room.
>It took a moment to assure of himself that he was not lost in a matryoshka dream, and when he was certain of it, the next part of the musical number began.
>Whereas before it was encapsulating his despaired realization, taken for a ride in a dream where all his worst fears were brought to light.
>Now, something else was brooding as the king mulled over what that dream meant.
>The ambiance began to adopt a darker, more powerful and surprisingly regal tone.
>What Ironbound determined was that the dream was a vision from Heaven, detailing how displeased it was with its anointed Son.
>Ironbound detailed his own aims - his dream, if you will - in a Disney-villain-esque, grandiose and wonderfully over-the-top next half of the song.
>He declared that his time to rule was now at last, Heaven itself decreeing that the Fenghuo were decadent and unfit to hold the Mandate for themselves any longer.
>With an ambition to unite the disparate lands and return Heaven's favor to the far western ponies, King Ironbound of the Saghai took the title of the First Emperor.
>Now, the old king was Emperor Aguu Ündeslegch, and all that was not Saghai would be his empire.
>A nifty little detail that you noticed was that as the song was drawing closer to its conclusion, ponies had been fitting the new Emperor in armor, as though further conveying the shift from his complacency to militantcy.
>He called for his vassal lords, and when they arrived, they wondered why he was demanding their arrival so early.
>Emperor Aguu Ündeslegch told them simply that it was time to set forth, and conquer.
>Knowingly, they smiled and cheered, more than ready to do so.
>And so concluded the second act of the show.
>The third act began sometime much later, with all the depicted territories subjugated, chained to the First Emperor's will.
>He had established a reputation as a just, if quite strict ruler.
>And generally, most looked upon him favorably, the conquered southern peasant ponies most certainly appreciating his incorruptible nature.
>Keyword: "peasants."
>Those who found themselves stripped of their power and unable to act as they formerly could were absolutely livid.
>How dare that jumped-up duke of a backwater steal the favor of Heaven out from under them!
>And not even a pony of their own nation had done it!
>Their discontent had been simmering for a long time, up to this point, now beginning to boil over behind the public eye.
>While they were generously left in control of some of their old territory, minor Saghaic lords were given a sudden promotion for their part in the wars of conquest, subsequentially taking a thicc slice of Fenghuo provinces for themselves and their clans.
>They would not have it any longer.
>As of the moment, a group of treacherous former Fenghuo nobleponies were conspiring over how to "deal" with their newfound problem.
>It actually began somewhat comedically, reminding you somewhat of a certain sketch regarding the Treaty of Westphalia.
>Though the topic was a most delicate matter, you'd think they were discussing something infinitely more pedantic and calm than plotting their new liege's demise.
>With so many ways this plan could snag, the vindictive nobleponies did have to iron things out, after all.
>What about the Cherbi's hoof-picked retinue to guard the new Emperor?
>How would they worm their way into the palace of Tengerleg Ordon?
>Hell, would they look out of place in the imperial court, much less the northern capital?
>It was all so frustrating, for them to be plotting to murder their liege.
>However, they did eventually iron out those wee bitty details to where they could get down to business.
>To defeat, the Saghai.
>One little hiccup in calling it truly prepared, though.
>The Emperor's son and chosen heir would be elsewhere on a military exercise, but would undoubtedly hear word of his father's death.
>As though listening to someone rant and rave about what will turbo-blow-up the world while they wanted to just have dinner like normal ponies, for once, the conspiring nobles sat there as they were unsure of what to do with this newly-revealed and unpredictable variable.
>Moments of discomfort-riddled half-discussion passed, before they came to the conclusion that it wouldn't matter.
>What threat might he pose in the grand scheme of things?
>And so, everything was perfectly planned.
>The following scenes were mostly a short, transitional filler, keeping some slight elements of comedy in this developing tragedy.
>Of course, the scheming ponies were depicted as incompetent-yet-successful, somehow dundering their way through the challenging hurdles in a humorous way.
>Though it did break some dourness in the coming moments, it stood in start juxtaposition.
>And, inevitably, they were all alone with the Emperor.
>He of course had no idea of their intentions, having faith and trust that this was some form of kow-tow.
>When his back was turned, the hair-raising, spine-tickling sound of blades being drawn from their scabbards.
>It instinctively filled the air with dread, fittingly being devoid of instrumentation.
>Flabbergasted, Emperor Aguu demanded to know the meaning of this treason.
>The response of finding him a foreign despot and unfairly taking their ancestral lands was anticipated, but well-delivered.
>Both furious and knowing he was nearing the end of his length of rope, he cursed the names of the traitorous lords, saying that they would endure a conqueror far worse than he could ever have been for this heinous crime.
>They didn't quite care to pay it any heed, and as the curtain went up to hide some of the brutality, you knew exaqctly what was coming next.
>The group delivered unto the First Emperor the Caeser Treatment.
>Really, it got under his skin quite well, getting to all those pressure points to unwind the mortal coil for him.
>A technique as old as time itself.
>And with the First Emperor's betrayal, the act drew to a close.
>Trust misplaced, the Empire was now thrown into disarray.
>What was the final act possessed was less in the way of plot, and more in terms of action.
>Something to happily turn your brain off to and have a hell of a time.
>The only necessary details of the plot were that it was a year or so from the assasination of old King Ironbound after his ascension, and it went about as well as one could expect.
>The wrath of the next head-of-state was unrelenting, and Aguu's warning rang quite true.
>Carving a swathe of devastation across the territories in rebellion, he would bring them to heel.
>He would crush his enemies and drive them before him.
>The primary focus beyond that was a small contingent of monks at a temple, desperately preparing for an unstoppable horde's advance.
>A number were shaken, knowing that their only opportunity for escape was fading.
>However, the head of their monastic group was able to hold them together with talk of duty for the ancestral shrine they tended to, and other somewhat cliché inspirational babble.
>The speech came to a jolting end as the forces under the vengeful Second Emperor broke into the old sanctum.
>It was their last stand, to be made against an unrelenting foe.
>Adopting a fighting stance, they beckoned the soldiers to come after them.
>The following fight scene had some of the most majestic moves, blurring the line between dancing and the more martial arts.
>Everyone 'ooh'-ed and 'ah'-ed, alongside gasps of great excitement at the more vivid imagrery.
>The plot may or may not have been interesting, but without a doubt some action could do plenty of good.
>Hell, it was probably just as integral to the show.
>Each monk fought off a sizable contingent of warriors, almost like those old General Tso's Kung-fu Chicken movies.
>Things maybe didn't happen like that, but then again, this opera was likely just that - an epic tale of a nation's founding.
>With every flowing movement and swift strike, the warrior-monks beat back their opponents.
>Their sacred duty and training called for them to hold their ground at all costs.
>With the orchestra's assistance, it exhilaratingly painted the scene before you.
>One by one, though, they were felled as stalks of wheat before a scythe's blade.
>Very, very stubborn stalks of wheat.
>While valiant, it was all for nought in the face of annihilation.
>Tragic, as most of those kinds of stories were.
>The act, and subsequently the show, ended with their defeat.
>In a way, the message was as clear as ever.
>Defiance of the Emperor's will would not stand, and the vision of the First Emperor - his dream - would last ten thousand years.
>Applause for the gripping performance resounded, especially for the final scene that had enraptured the crowd, the rhythmic clopping of hooves and the occasional rapport of clapping hands filling the Opera Hall.
>Naturally, you offered your own praise for the entertainment and the finesse of their practice.
>Perhaps some things had been embellished for the sake of being entertaining, but you'd like to think you at least learned something today.
>G.I. Joe would be very proud of you for taking that advice to heart.
>As the rest of the audience began to file out of the hall, you glanced to the mare at your side.
>Throughout the whole of the opera, your sweetheart had held onto your arm, giving it a loving squeeze intermittently as the show went on.
>Though you were expanding knowledge throughout the show, and quite engrossed in what it had to say, you did respond to her little affections.
>A scritch behind the ears, a pet behind the mane, and letting her bury her head in the crook of your arm to avoid watching the First Emperor be brutally murdered.
>Whether it was out of respect from her devotion to the Saghaic nation, not liking to witness things die or something else entirely, you could not say.
>When it came time for your row to finally file out and leave the building, you gave Siltsong a gentle nudge.
"Ready to get out of here, Silty?"
>You experimented with a pet-name for your beloved, wondering how she might take to it.
>The silvery mare met your gaze quickly, her ears standing at full alertness, as though the little nickname had caught her off-guard.
>"What? Oh! Yes, let's get going, Anonymous."
>Weird...
>Before you would attempt getting up, you required your arm to be free.
>Maintaining your te-chakra pull to wherever the fuck the center of Equestria was held some relative importance.
"You, uh...you enjoying my arm, there?"
>Siltsong nodded, her soft cheek rubbing against your arm with a radiant, soft smile on her face.
>"Mhm...you're very warm, Anon..."
>Siltsong spoke in an almost dreamy tone, content to have been holding tight to your side and likely just as happy to keep it that way.
>With your free arm, you ruffle her mane, messing with her bangs and leaving a few rogue locks of mane in her eyes.
"I'm glad you like it that much...but maybe could I have it back for now, sweetheart?"
>Your name wasn't exactly Mr. Potato Head, now was it?
>Couldn't pop off your limbs and hand them to someone to do Lord-knows-what with 'em.
>Silty, for her part, whined demurely in protest.
>"Aww...do I have to? It's so comfy like this..."
>Your resolve was already weakend, but then Siltsong reached for the nuclear option before you could retort.
>Those bright, big, beautiful violet eyes pleaded for you to let her stay in your embrace.
>A low blow, but it wasn't scummy if it was winnin'.
"Alright, alright, you win Silty. Mind if I ask some questions n' stuff?"
>You concede to your mare, taking her into your arms and holding her close to your chest.
>"You can ask me anything, my precious harmony! What is it that's caught your fancy?"
>Siltsong asked with a bubbly giggle, serenading your ears with that angelic voice of hers and infectiously bringing a smile to your face.
"Well...I kinda wanted to talk about some of the stuff in the show. Didn't want to speak up during, cause I thought it might've been rude."
>You really didn't want to be like some black chick in the movie theater, practically shouting obnoxiously about what's going on as the presentation progressed.
>An extra aside on that topic; they didn't use such normalfag inventions as the microphone or speaker in the opera.
>Though they did possess powerful and loud voices, you'd think some chatter might be just a tad disruptive.
>"Some history questions, if I am to guess? I should be able to answer them for you. I wouldn't have passed my Civil Service examinations if I was unable to..."
>A shudder of displeasure shot up Siltsong's back as she recalled the repressed memory of extremely late studies to properly prepare, and her forelegs hugging your arm a little tighter for comfort.
>Nodding slowly, you take a stab at the myriad of questions that have arisen in your well-worn noodle.
"First off...what's the distinction between being the 'Son of Heaven' and being Emperor? I thought they might have been one and the same."
>You voice your confusion, thinking it might have been some sort of honorary title.
>Or something.
>Your sweetheart's back hooves clacked against one another, as she couldn't exactly clop the front ones together.
>"That's because one of those titles is much, much older than the other, Anonymous. It's not exactly clear when it emerged, as it unfortunately goes further back than Imperial Records can detail...but to summarize, it is what divinely ordains the Emperor to rule so long as he is a just and kind lord."
>Some kind of divine right to rule?
>You could dig that kind of shit.
"Alright then...so, how does it work? How does Heaven pick and choose rulers like that?"
>Silty's hoof rested against her chin, mulling over how best to explain it to you.
>You knew you should have paid attention in class.
>"...Heaven isn't, simply put, just an idyllic afterlife as far as Saghaic philosophy is concerned...it embodies the will and natural order of the universe. Those ponies who work against its will shall have the Mandate revoked."
>Perhaps that explains the dream sequence just a hair more.
>Armed and dangerous with some additional knowledge and understanding as you ventured out into the cold, observing that the sun had traveled quite far since last you checked, you pondered your next question.
>Mayhaps as to why that title made the Emperor such a central tenet of Saghai society?
"I think I'm following what you're saying...is that why everyone has such, eh...reverence for 'em? You'd think that title would be closer to a God-King."
>Siltsong's reaction was quite immediate, her muzzle scrunching up like she had just bitten into a lemon and her voice becoming perturbed, as though you had said something that really percolated her pistacios.
>"Some ponies may think that way, Anonymous, but that isn't the case. Divinely-ordained as he may be, he is still but a pony! It doesn't do the Emperor any favors to consider him as such, for Heaven can rescind its favor if he got too full of himself."
>She grumbled, her tone carrying a long-standing frustration on the topic.
>You took a mental note to not bring that up with her in the near future.
>It was probably the first time Silty sounded genuinely annoyed with something you said.
>The following silence was about as comfortable as wading through opaque coastal waters, not knowing if you were just brushing up against seaweed or if it was a jellyfish there to push your shit in for the day.
>In time, the mare in your arms sighed heavily before locking her forelegs around your neck, giving you a hug as she opened up about the matter.
>"I...I apologize, Anonymous...that was an inappropriate outburst, on my part..."
>You rub her little poner ears, giving a kiss to her cheek before replying.
"It's okay, Silts. I didn't know how you felt about that remark, don't feel too bad about it, alright?"
>Silty, for her part, broke off the hug as she looked down to her own hooves.
>"It's just that...it has always bothered me when ponies thought that way, ever since I was a filly. I can understand a deep respect, but placing somepony on that high and lofty a pedestal? It can't be healthy in any way for somepony's conscience..."
>Her words gave you food for thought, not only because of her reasoning, but coupled with her almost kinship-sounding concern.
"Sounds like you've a lot of fondness for the Emperor, Silty."
>The silvery mare in your arms closed her eyes for a moment, her front hooves quietly clopping as they tapped together.
>"He is a just lord, and even in these troubling times, I am certain he can steadily sail the ship of state. His Imperial Majesty's rule has been prosperous, and...and he is quite kind, as the Son of Heaven should be."
>Fair enough reasons, if she were to give any.
>You got the feeling that she might have been deflecting a tad, but if she didn't want to elaborate, that was okay.
>A noblemare had some secrets to keep, right?
>Especially in regards to her position in political affairs...
>Silence had once again rejoined your company, but it wasn't the former, more oppressive kind that weighed on your soul.
>It was merely a peaceful moment to mentally digest some of that aforementioned information.
>Most of what Siltsong had expanded upon did help piece enough of the show's content together you hadn't been given enough context on.
>The occasional arctic chill accompained you, the sweet mare in you arms, and the quiet ambiance.
>Though Silts had quite broken-in her dank winter coat, rockin' it in all her graceful glory, it still penetrated the fluffy insulation.
>A shiver went down her spine every time, shuddering in your grasp.
>In response, you held her as close as you could, doing what you could to shield her from the claws of the waning winter.
>It may not have been a perfect seal, but you would damn-well try to keep her safe.
>As long as she was in your arms or at your side, you could assure yourself she was a-okay.
>Whilst on your way back home after deducing there wasn't anything either of you would be needing, one final question was bounding and ricocheting around in your skull like a .22 bullet.
>The whole naming thing for the monarchs of Saghai were...odd.
>Whereas they had regular names before assuming the title of Emperor, they had much different ones after taking hold of their position.
>You're pretty sure that Princess Celestia didn't do anything similar, nor did any Equestrian nobility.
>After rounding another corner, you broke the still silence.
"Hey, uhm...Silts? Could I ask one more question?"
>Her ears perked back up to attention, her eyes focused on you as they opened once again.
>"Absolutely, Anon. What's the question?"
>Though you felt an impulse to rub the back of your neck in slight embarrassment, you couldn't exactly scratch that primal itch.
>Well, you had the ability to attempt that maneuver; you might drop a certain someone if you went through with it, though.
"Was thinking about that scene in the show, where that Ironbound pony becomes Emperor; he took a new name. Can you explain how that works, sweetheart?"
>Siltsong nodded slowly, smiling softly at the less personally-charged topic of the lordship.
>"Of course. I don't know if it makes sense for those outside the Empire, but the name King Ironbound took was a 'temple name.' They're taken to describe the circumstances surrounding their ascent to power."
>Silty utilized some vague hoof gestures as she spoke regarding the strange system, in the same vein as some people back home who just had to talk with their hands when they were able to.
>"Take 'Aguu Ündeslegch;' it means something along the line of 'Great Founder,' of which was quite fitting for him to take."
>You nodded as you followed along with what she was describing, not quite sure of what it was exactly deisgned to accomplish.
"Alright, alright...so, what about his son? What kind of 'temple name' did he take?"
>Though slightly discomforted to talk about the Second Emperor, your mare pushed it aside to deliberate for you.
>"He took the name of 'Setgeliin Ezenmini; Wrathful Lord.' The time of his rule was...a dark one, to say the least."
>With a name like that, you'd assume Silty wasn't just making it up, either.
>Taking her word for it, you asked regarding a more contemporary monarch.
"So, what about the current Emperor? Isn't his name something like...Ezenii Gashuudal? Can't believe I still remember that..."
>You commend yourself, thinking you nailed the pronunciation.
>Siltsong nodded, giggling softly at your personal remark.
>"You've gotten quite good at the language, my precious harmony! Maybe I should have become a teacher instead of an Ambassador!"
>Chuckling as you shook your head, you attempted to get a bit back on topic.
"Couldn't have gotten that far without you, sweetest. Anywho, what might it mean?"
>As the duet of deep chuckles and bubbly giggles subsided, Siltsong's smile faltered by just a hair as she explained what it meant.
>"It means, roughly, 'Sorrow Emperor...' He came to power in a time of tragedy for the royal family."
>Putting two and two together, you had some clue as to what she meant by that.
>You decided it was best not to inquire, to not make the mood too dour for the rest of the short leg of your trip back home.
>As said home came into view, a little voice within pondered;
>When would all this fucking snow go away?
>When would those weatherponies turn up the warm again?
>~{Day 202}~
>Your wish from a few weeks ago had been duly granted.
>Weatherponies had finally gotten around to kickstarting spring, despite being understaffed and overworked.
>Winter may have been a time to be quite cozy, but you wanted some vareity in your sedentary life.
>Enter the wonderful season of verdant trees and grasses.
>Spring brought with it a brand new outfit, ditching last year's heavy snow for blossoming flowers and budding leaves.
>As you stepped out into the courtyard of the Imperial Embassy, the warmth of sunlight tingled against your skin in the most pleasant of ways.
>Cracking a smile as you acquire some of that sweet Vitamin D you had been missing out on for so long, you take pleasure in seeing the courtyard's gardens brighten with life rebounding from the choke-hold of the season of ice.
>Granted, there was still a lingering chill that remained in the breeze, possibly the remnants of the Windigoes screwing with the weather as they fed off the tumultuous feelings of ponies in conflict.
>You were not troubled by the remaining frosty air, as more warm currents brought in by those few, diligent weatherponies counteracted this enough to make it a non-issue.
>Dare you say, the singsong chirping of birds became much more pronounced as the warmer weather returned, albeit unusually cold.
>You had the feeling today would be an excellent one from this point alone.
>Content as you were to muse about how wonderful it was to experience the coming of spring, the familiar shrine in the center of the courtyard became awash with activity.
>Looks like some hot news would be in for you and Silts, today.
>First came one letter, then another, and finally a third all piling up in eager anticipation to being cracked open.
>Either there was a significant delay over all these getting to Canterlot, or three ponies had some hot new shit to say.
>You'd only find out if you got your sticky fingers on those messages.
>Speaking of news...
>You reckoned that you might as well check and see if anything more had been developing across Equestria.
>You did live here, after all.
>Once you had ensured the three pieces of particular parchment weren't going to wander off, you ventured untowards the mysterious unknown that was outside the Embassy grounds.
>Mere moments later, a roll of the Canterlot Courant landed square on the kisser, socking you pretty damn good for a roll of paper.
>Afterwards, a little filly's voice piped up to apologize.
>"Sorry, Mister Human! Didn't mean to hit you like that!"
>Picking up the paper and sighing to yourself, you dismissively wave in the general direction of the paperfilly's voice.
"Don't worry about it, kid."
>Taking a glance to the title of today's paper as the filly scampered off, her little hoofsteps hurrying to his next stop, you were pleasantly surprised.
>'Northern Offensive Well Underway, New Commanders Perform Admirably.'
>In the few weeks it took for spring to come, things were still going good?
>Your inner pessimist regarding this war wasn't going to get their chance to blow that austistic-screeching load today.
>A cursory glance through other pages revealed there wasn't too much otherwise interesting, other than some complaints being brought up against the Flim-Flam Brothers, and some pretty damning ones at that.
>Why it was buried this deep in the paper, you couldn't exactly say.
>hmmthinkingemoji.jpg
>Tucking the news between your arm and torso, you hoped to heaven and back Siltsong didn't see that.
>Getting smacked in the face with a newspaper like someone shot it out of a t-shirt cannon wasn't exactly something anyone else to see.
>Glancing around and behind you, it was apparent that nobody you cared about had observed this travesty.
>Secure in this knowledge, you would tuck that memory deep away in the crevices of your mind.
>Only you would know of what happened, until you drunkenly spill your pasta sauce.
>That was for much later, however, and you head back within the Embassy's isolating walls.
>Coming back into the courtyard, you spotted your sweetheart leisurely trotting out to the Embassy's center, all prim and proper for the day ahead.
>Siltsong would never know when she might be needed for high-brow diplomancing.
"You're looking as beautiful as ever, Silty...always makes me think you've got somewhere important to go."
>Though the compliment might have been cheesily-romantic, it did the trick in making her muzzle become awash with an approving blush.
>"You charmer, I'd call you sugar, but that's not sweet enough."
>The mare responded, shyly afterting her gaze from your own.
>That special fluttering feeling arose in your chest, your heart beating a tad faster as a mild blush of your own formed.
>While this level of indulging in sapperific comments would normally hurt your pancreas, it felt...
>Perfectly right, to do so.
>In the moment's passing, Siltsong glanced to the shrine in the center of the gardens, observing that the both of you had mail.
>"...somepony has sent us something, my precious harmony?"
>You nodded at the relatively rhetorical question, gesturing to both the three mysterious missives and the newspaper you got turbo-blasted with mere moments before.
"Just came in this morning, when I went out to see what the next big piece of news was."
>Trotting over and grabbing a letter to crack open, Siltsong was eager to see who sent these little pieces of parcel your way.
>"Well, why don't we find out what it's all about? There could be something important we haven't heard about...or something from family..."
>She spoke with a wistful tone, quite obviously missing her kinsfolk after so long apart from them.
>It was safe to assume that Siltsong had been away on her diplomatic mission for much longer than the half-year or so you had known her.
"Sounds good, Silty. Who's the first one from?"
>You asked as you squat down to acquire the perfect posture for paper-reading.
>Siltsong sat down for balance, unfurling the missive to view the sender and its contents.
>A small smile arose on her face, the Saghaic pone shaking her head in mild amusement.
>"This first one appears to be from Spirits, grandiose as ever...retelling his accomplishments and such."
>From the moment you heard that Spirited Charge sent another letter, you knew it would be a gem.
>However, instead of asking for a normal narration, you wondered if your sweetest Siltsong could try something a little more...
>Hammy.
"Hey, Silty...you think you could read that, but like, in the most bombastic voice you can?"
>You resquest as a devious smile broke on your features, coupling together with a sensible chuckle.
>Siltsong, for her part, was mostly just pleased to know her kin were doing alright out on the dangerous frontier of war.
>But now, you had introduced the quantum x factor that broke the relative seriousness of it all.
>"I...suppose I could, my precious harmony. Is that really what you want me to do?"
>Perhaps your quandary was a bit crude, but from the growing smile on her face, Siltsong was probably going to attempt it should you press the matter.
"Why not do it, sweetest? It'd be pretty funny if you did."
>You proposed with the most impenetrable of reasoning.
>Besides, that's kind of how you imagined he talked for realsies after seeing his first letter.
>With a sigh partially broken by chortling, your mare conceded to your incredibly inane request.
>"Alright, Anon...I'll do this for you, but only because I love you so much."
>You had a feeling she probably did this in the confines of her mind, anyway, however.
>Siltsong cleared her throat, and began to read the letter's contents aloud in a voice you assumed was something between a WWE Wrestlemania announcer and that one guy that did some passionate introductory narration for Star Wars stuff.
>All with her delectable voice's flair and accent imposing a wonder inflection on it all.
>"Dear Sister; I write to you to bring such joyous news! The foul Crystal Despoilers have been met and routed mere miles outside the boundary settlement of Tolgodyn Oroi, yet again unable to best our superior retinue! The ponies under my command are, without a doubt, the finest soldiers the world has ever seen. Today has been a glor..."
>Siltsong paused for a moment, her verbose narration interrupting by snorting laughter.
>Normally, it wasn't too humorous to read through a glory-hound's scrawlings.
>Your wife-to-be, however, was one with the ultra-turbo-extreme narration she had going there.
>"Forgive me, Anonymous...I just needed a break for a moment."
>Taking a deep breath, Siltsong picked back up where she had left off.
>"...Today has been a glorious day for the Yellow Banner, and as I write to you, dear sister, the brave stallions and mares under my command celebrate their victory with the townsponies. Such valor they displayed, facing their foe! The honor we have secured for the Empire is immeasurable! Rest assured that this war shall be brought to a swift end, if our enemy really is incapable of crushing our admittedly modestly-sized mobilized force. Best wishes, and until next time; Commander Spirited Charge of the Yellow Banner."
>You had to admit, you got a bit of a good giggle out of something so trivial and mundane as reading squiggles in a funny voice.
>Some of the other residents of the Embassy watched a group of goobers goof around as they went about their business that morning.
>With good spirits all around and some lovely laughs subsiding, you give your sweetheart a good petting on the head in praise of her spectacular voice-over.
"That was good, Silty. Don't think I could have done any better myself!"
>You beam with a bit of pride, quite pleased that she had most certainly broken out of what you would assume noblemares did.
>Siltsong, for her part, was both smiling upon receiving your approval and yet feeling a tad uncomfortable at the most decidely non-highborn pursuit.
>"I feel a tad dirty...is that normal, Anonymous?"
>You shrug your shoulders, not really having too many conniptions over it yourself.
"Not sure about that, but hey, not like anyone's going to get their horseshoes in a twist over it, right?"
>You pointed out, as you were fairly certain that her hoofmaids didn't have a grapevine of Chinese whispers with other noble's servants.
>"I don't think so, no. It still feels...uncouth, however."
>You supposed it would be a little while before Silty would be more comfortable with such deviant pursuits.
"Alright, Silty. Think we should move onto the next one now?"
>Without hesitation, your mare nodded, eager to see what else may have come from home.
>Unfurling the next scroll sent unto the Embassy and having a look-see, Siltsong hugged it close to the barrel of her chest.
>Your interest piqued, you requested more information that getting a sidelong peek.
"Who's it from, Silty? What's it say?"
>Only but a moment passed before she responded to your query.
>"It's from Resolution, Anon! He's just asked about you!"
>A mixture of both excitement and nervousness twinged from deep within your chest.
"Really, now? What does it say, Siltsong, sweetest?"
>Taking a short breath and opening in a more reasonably-serious tone, your sweetheart began.
>"Siltsong; I apologize for not writing to you in so long, I hope your stay in the lands of the Soninkhachin-"
>Though it may have been rude, you interrupted for but a moment.
"Forgive me, but what does that mean? 'Soninkhachin?'"
>The silvery, earthen mare halted for a moment to quickly gloss over that term.
>"It's, uhm, a slang term to refer to foreigners, is all."
>Nodding silently, you let her continue her reading.
>"-has not driven you stir-crazy. So far, my band of soldiers has been establishing a citadel in the Green Valley."
>As if preempitvely knowing you had another question brewing in your brilliant mind, Silty brought up what the locale was.
>"For reference, my precious harmony, it's one of the quicker routes to the very heartland of the Empire. A great mountain range parts the country almost in two."
>Remaining still-silent, you processed the new information, wondering what else Saghaic geography might be like among other thoughts.
>Taking but a moment to find her place once again, Siltsong resumed reading it aloud to you.
>"Given that this is the most likely route for our enemy to take, I'll be sure to meet them in time, should they get past Swift & Spirits' ponies. Disregarding complaints with the current rationing, not much else has happened here; how is it for you out there, sister? It's been so long that I don't know the whole of your adventures in the realm of politics. Word has also come to my ears that you have found yourself a colt to call your future husband. Tell me; what is he like? How has he been treating you? All that I have been told is that he is a 'human,' not much to go off at a forward command post so many miles away."
>It was certainly apparent that your mare had such appreciation for hearing more than just news on what happened unto the Saghai front.
>Knowing that her brothers were doing okay, keeping themselves relatively safe...
>It was all that really mattered, beyond attaining a victory.
>"Until I read your words again, Siltsong, I remain; Commander Resolution."
>Though you'd be somewhat interested in knowing what words she might put down about you, something told you it was best to leave that between siblings.
"Sounds like he cares a lot about you, Silty."
>The Saghaic mare was quiet for a moment, offering her response to your astute observation.
>"Isn't that what family is all about? We poke fun at each other, have disputes and all as anypony might...but the bond is still there and strong. Without it...what really is there, anymore?"
>Her little nugget of wisdom was all you needed to further cement your presupposition about how much the Saghai clinged to the idea of family.
>A silence hung in the air, yourself in thought over her aside regarding what family values she held.
"I guess you have a point, there...eh, anyway-"
>You shake your head, not wanting to get too lost in thought and sit there akin to a statue, despite the wonderful food for thought to jot down in that House of Wisdom up there.
"-do you want to go over the last letter together? Or do you want to go write a reply to Resolution?"
>It didn't feel right to keep her, if she felt the strong need to say a long-distance "hello" to one of her brothers.
>They did, after all, appear to be quite the tight-knit clan of aristocrats.
>"We can read over the last one, Anon. No point in stopping two-thirds of the way there."
>And so it was decided.
>Unfurling the last of the scrolls, the smile that had been present and quite radiant faded.
>A tinge of concern rose, uncertainty of the letter's contents hanging over you.
>"It's a letter from Swift Advance. He's...a bit more of the serious kind of stallion. Swift says something's troubling him, about the campaign."
>Well if that doesn't permeate your peanuts.
"So...what did he say? Did something bad happen?"
>Taking it from the top, Silty began with the latest of the pieces of parchment.
>"To my sister; Undoubtedly, you have been bombarded by Spirit's bravado in throwing himself and the Emperor's soldiers into a head-on engagement while Res has holed himself up in an infuriatingly-difficult position to outmaneuver. I figure it would be appropriate to tell you of my own experiences - instead of targeting the bulk of King Sombra's army, I have focused on their supply trains. A revelation has surfaced, regarding our enemy's probable intentions for invading our Empire. From their supplies, it would suggest an ambition and scale to dominate the nation in a manner like the Yak Kingdom."
>Definitely some more disconcerting news, if this was to be believed.
>"It is an uncomfortable revelation, and has been sitting on my mind for a while now. Have we only been fighting an expeditionary vanguard, an indicator of what to come? Or have they been where we have not, and are marching untowards Tengerleg Ordon as my brush pens this letter? I hope to have an answer before long. Signed, Swift Maneuver."
>From reading all three of these little letters, you knew her brothers just a hair more than faraway ponies, only discernable from their printed accounts.
"...I can see why that may have troubled him, just a bit."
>Siltsong regained her previous composure after relaying to you Swift's concerns, trying to shake of some of the grimness of the reality.
>"It's but another thing to worry about in an ocean of troubles. Ancestors willing, it will be but another trial overcome. I'd...much rather keep a positive outlook of this war."
>Once more, the atmosphere fell quiet, but only for a moment before Siltsong got up from her spot.
>"I think I'll probably be off to write a return letter to Ressy...was there anything interesting in the news?"
>You shrug your shoulders, not sure what she might deem "interesting," but offering the articles that caught your eye.
"For starters, things have been going surprisingly well. Rainbow Dash is pushing on strong in the Northern Badlands, and this Twilight Sparkle mare sure is proving to be capable, at the very least."
>You skim over the other details that weren't exactly important, but from what you read, there wasn't too much else to the contrary.
>Other than the Siege of Los Pegasus still going on and some additional minor territorial losses out at the edges of Equestrian territory, that generally was all about the war-related news.
>The silvery mare nodded slowly, before asking one more quick question about the world's going-ons.
>"That's good to hear, Anonymous. Has anything else happened of note?"
>Recalling the curious news regarding the Flim-Flam Brothers, you relay the complaints brought up against them to her.
"You know that huge mega-corp, formed around the start of the war under the Flim-Flam Brothers? Some ponies are complaining about things like 'predatory market practices,' y'know, like being a monopoly."
>An audible "hmm" came from your mare, mulling over the tidbit of economic news.
>"...Didn't they have backing from the Canterlot Crown, or something of the manner?"
>You throw your arms up in the air slightly, it having been a while since you read the juicy details.
"Maybe, but I can't remember exactly."
>Silty nodded, the facts likely buried in a previous paper or something of the sort.
>"Understood...I assume that's all, then?"
>Preemptively, you affirm with a quick shake of the head.
"Really, there isn't much else interesting, just some small local stuff."
>You anticipated that Siltsong would have been off, then, ready to finally "talk" to her siblings.
>Before she did, the Saghaic poner trotted on over to you and gave a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.
>Even when she left, you could still taste Siltsong on your lips...
>A pleasant, sweet, tingling memory that would stay firmly in your mind.
>~{Day 264.5}~
>Scarce few developments came afterwards from either front, the days passing in relative peace.
>It was somewhat liberating, to know things were going well enough to set it outside of your mind for a time.
>Hell, not a whole lot was going on at all.
>It would seem as though the end of the war might be drawing ever nearer than once thought.
>However, your mind wasn't exactly in the state of contemplating the greater scope of this war or worrying over the ramifications of a distant conflict.
>You and Siltsong were quite asleep at this late-night hour.
>Together in a comfy bed, a mare held tightly in the arms of her human.
>A perfect conclusion to a day of relative monotony.
>At the very least, that's what it should have remained.
>During this sacred time of rest, at some indeterminate point in the middle of the night, a loud and aggressive knock rapported from the bedroom door.
>With each slam of what you presumed was a hoof against the wood, you and Siltsong were forced out of the realm of relatively sweet dreams.
>Siltsong groaned in annoyance, not possessing any wish to be woken at this ridiculous hour.
>As you were irritably woken by the unending assault of what you supposed might as well be a fucking battering ram, the mare at your side whined for you to get the door.
>Donning enough clothes to lazily cover up, you haphazardly grab the handle and pull it open with tired, squinting scowl.
>Right outside was the captain of the Honor Guard that protected Siltsong and the compound proper.
>His cold, calculating eyes meet your own, before his coarse and imposing voice broke the silence.
>"Is Lady Siltsong present and awake?"
>Glancing back to the mare that just wanted a good night's sleep, now unable to achieve that, you resisted the urge to deliver a wonderfully-sarcastic comment.
"Yeah. She's up now. What's with the urgency? Canterlot on fire? Under attack?"
>Keeping a straight face, he brushed your remarks aside, getting to why he was there.
>"Lady Siltsong is needed for an emergency meeting with Equestrian officials. It is...recommended that she attend as soon as possible."
>Before you could attempt to prod further as to the meaning of this, the Guard Captain turned and began to leave.
>"Escorts for her and her alone will be in the main foyer."
>And with that, it was the last you heard from him from the night as he trotted downstairs.
>Your tired mind strained as it did its damnedest to figure out what on Earth your wife-to-be was needed for.
>And what the fuck meant it was one of these "wake you up at too-fucking-early o' clock" emergenices?
>Whatever the hell it was, the secretive meeting must've been important to be so unannounced and sudden.
>With a heavy, grumbling sigh, you walk over to the sleepy poner still partially wrapped up in the blankets.
"Did you catch that, Siltsong, sweetest?"
>Her messy bedmane in her tired violet eyes, she blinked as the gears within her head were only just beginning to turn in those quaint hours of the day.
>"I...I couldn't hear it too well...something about an Equestrian emergency..?"
>You nodded, elaborating for the drowsy pone.
"Some secret political meeting they really need you for...the Captain came by to say it was pretty urgent."
>Throwing off the covers behind her as she tried to get towards some semblance of readiness.
>"This early..? It's quite rude...I assume they didn't tell you much, at all?"
>You nod, unable to really say much else.
"The Captain was pretty secretive about it, yeah. You'd think they were about to disclose where the Ark of the Covenant is or some shit."
>A mild pink tinge splayed itself across her muzzle, never quite used to hearing your more colorful language.
>"Uhm...what's that, Anon?"
>You shake your head, setting a hand on her shoulder.
"It's just...something mythical. Hard-to-find kind of thing. You think you might need a bit of help getting ready?"
>The sense of subdued urgency hung in the air from the earlier conversation.
>After digesting the thought for a moment, the mare responded with what might be reasonable.
>"I could do with some helpful hands, if you don't mind...a bit of help with my mane, perhaps?"
>Giving it a once-over, you were honestly surprised at how bad her bedmane could be.
>You didn't know if she moved around too much in her sleep, or if her mane was trying to throw a revolution.
"Of course I can help with that, Siltsong, sweetest."
>You smile, always willing to lend your assistance to the little cutie who helped complete you.
>After she rubbed the tiredness from her eyes, Siltsong joined you on a quick trip to manage her amgry bedmane before this sudden, secretive political conference call.
>You supposed this would probably become more common as time went on, given her position and stature.
>Not much in the way of earth-shatteering significance happened as you and Siltsong washed up in a somewhat-hurried manner.
>There actually was a rush here, and you didn't have any time to fuck around in any sense of the word.
>With the haste of a man waking up to realize he has ten-plus papers to finish in under an hour, you helped in washing any late-night nastiness that may have been hiding out in Silty's coat and mane.
>A job well-done, if you did say so yourself.
>If the shower was taken any faster, the both of you might have ended up going back in time.
>Whilst she was drying off, you may or may not have made the cheeky decision to plant a quick little kiss right upon her lotus-shaped cutie mark.
>With a surprised gasp and a crimson-red blush, her hind legs quaked from the sudden, intimate contact of your lips against her plush and supple flank.
>You were starting to think that either it was a particularly sensitive spot, or something.
>The particularly-flustered mare glanced back to you, those slender legs of hers pressing closer together than before.
>"W-Was that really necessary, Anon? Now I'm feeling all...hot and bothered..."
>A little ping of guilt ran through your heart, knowing the memory of your lip's touch would haunt her for the majority of the time she was away.
>Though, at the time, it was certainly irresistable.
"I apologize, Siltsong, sweetest...couldn't help myself."
>You admit, both with a healthy helping of embarrasment and longing for her future return.
>Transfixed by her innate beauty and wonderful company, the time that would be without her would feel most decidedly empty.
>Y'know, if you somehow willed yourself into remaining awake or some other problem thereof.
>"I do love it when you apply a more...'hooves-on' approach to love, but maybe not before something so important?"
>Silty asked of you, trying to put some certain impure thoughts out of her mind.
"Alright, Silts, I'll try and not do that right before you have to go talk with the Round Table of Sentient Hieroglyphics."
>After your apology, you began with the process of fashioning her still barely-damp mane into the traditional two-bun style.
>Before long, you finished wrapping the silken bands around each bun of mane, establishing a firm hold on the locks of luxurious mane.
"You think it looks good, Silty?"
>Taking a moment to examine your handiwork, the mare gave a warm, affirmative nod.
>"Indeed it is, Anon...I suppose I should get going now..."
>The mare sighed, knowing what was to come.
>A separation of two lovers, though only for a few hours at most, would feel an eternity thrice over.
"I guess, yeah...want me to walk you down? I know I probably can't come with, but-"
>Before you could finish your sentence, Siltsong enthusiastically nodded with a renewed, bright smile.
>"I'd appreciate that very much!"
>Unable to say no to that beautiful, captivating smile of hers, you took her hoof for the short journey down.
>As the journey was practically programmed at this point into your mind, you almost barely registered its passing.
>When you came to the foyer, you knew it would be time to part ways with Silts.
>Close to the front entrance of the Imperial Saghai Embassy, there stood two Honor Guards, their spears with an attached crescent blade standing at attention.
>Between the two of them, there was some other mare, all dressed up in ceremonial military attire.
>You most certainly did not recognize them, but then again, you probably didn't know a majority of Equestrian political officials.
>Haven't exactly been keeping up with your politics character lore as of late.
>Maybe next season it will actually be good.
>When this mare of mystery laid eyes on the sweetheart at your side, a very light upwards curl of the lips splayed itself across the other mare's muzzle.
>"So you have arrived, Lady Siltsong. I trust that you're ready to go now? The meeting's on a tight schedule."
>As expected, it's not like anyone was gonna let a single real detail pass onto you.
>With everything shrouded in a layer of secrecy so enveloping, you'd think they were about to discuss the next generation of combat-capable beyblade spinners.
>With a nod, Siltsong affirmed her query.
>"I am, just...one last little thing before I go."
>The Equestrian official inquisitively raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless let her do whatever was on her mind.
>"Be quick about it, then. I'll be outside, waiting."
>With each hoofstep resounding through the great hall, you wondered what it was that Silty might've needed to take care of.
>The feeling of two strong forelegs wrapping around your waist answered your question for you.
>Looking down to Silty, you see her on the tips of her hooves, cheek pressed firmly against your middle as she hugged you tightly.
>"I'll miss you, Anon..."
>As she lightened her hug, coming back down onto her back hooves fully, you returned the favor.
>Locking your arms around her back and running your fingers through her mane, you say your own goodbyes.
"I'll miss you, too, Siltsong sweetest. You go take care of what you need to, and when you get back, I'll be right here."
>Your sweetheart looked up to you with those gorgeous eyes of hers, the way they seemed to shine and glitter in the dim light outclassing even the most brilliant and masterfully-cut amethysts.
>"Do you promise, Anon?"
>Signing, sealing and delivering your affirmative answer, you plant a short-but-sweet kiss on her lips.
"I promise, Silty. If I have to, I'll pass out in the lobby just for you."
>Shaking her head, Siltsong chortled softly at your jesting.
"Now, you should probably get to it. Don't worry, I won't be going anywhere."
>Not at this fucking hour, you wouldn't.
>Shortly after you let go of your beloved, she was off, Honor Guards flanking her for protection.
>And before long, she was gone...
>The weight of separation wasn't easy to put your mind off of, when for so long, it was filled with thoughts of your mare.
>Her name, the way she moved, her refined mannerisms...
>Even though it was something to expect, it almost felt as though it hadn't gotten any more palatable, being apart from one another for so long.
>Perhaps one of the major downsides of being a hopeless romantic, in the end.
>Well, not much you could do about it in this situation.
>All you could do was find something to temporarily occupy that void.
>As you thought about what you could do, from taking a bomb-ass nap to studying geography to practicing your calligraphy, that Captain came trotting up to you again.
>"Anonymous. If you'll follow me for a moment."
>You were gonna have to put the brakes on this wild bronco for a minute, there.
"For what? Did I do something particularly wrong?"
>A little less than amused, the military stallion tersely stared you in the eye.
>"You have not. Yet. On orders from my superiors, you are to learn how to properly defend yourself...and if it comes to the worst, Lady Siltsong."
>His gruff response, and its contents, caught you by surprise.
>Before you could stammer out another question or half-hearted remark, the Captain's order was repeated with annoyance.
>"Now that I have answered your question, follow me to get you introducted to handling a weapon."
>Seeing as you weren't going to get out of this anytime soon, you supposed you found your activity for the night.
>You were honestly starting to get worried, now that you were apparently being roped in for some self-defense lessons.
>Had the war started tumbling back down to the Dark Tyrant's favor?
>Lady Luck was certainly a fickle kind of mistress.
>As you arrived in the training yard for the Honor Guard, now empty for the night as a skeleton crew watched over the grounds, the Captain withdrew the sword from his scabbard.
>Balancing on his hind legs with remarkable endurance, he gave some basic expositional information on the sharp blade.
>"This, Anonymous, is a Jian. It is a traditional double-edged sword from the ancient southern dynasties, and has seen service in Saghaic armies for thousands of years. While not an important detail, under the Classics, it is often referred to as the 'Gentlecolt of Weapons.'"
>With one gentle, almost accidental shifting of the blade, you could see its sharper edge nick off a little bit of his hoof's hard keratin.
>The Captain, of course, used this moment to give a tiny little lecture on weapon safety.
>"And as you could see, these are not children's toys or wooden practice sabres. I will not be held accountable if you do something particularly absent-minded because you didn't heed my warning."
>Keeping it steady in his hooves, he gestures for you to take it.
>"This weapon may not be forged explicitly for you, Anonymous, but it should give you a reasonable outline as to what it is like to wield a jian. Go ahead, take it for a moment. Don't keep it, though. I need it back."
>Carefully, you grab the hilt of the sabre, and go through the quantumly-beamed process of getting a read on the feeling of the sword.
>Though the grip did feel like it was more or less meant to be held by a pony's mouth, and didn't quite fit a hand...
>You'd guess this is what a balanced weapon would feel like.
>In some intrinsic way,it felt...right to hold.
>Of course, before you could get too carried away marvelling at the jian's beauty and design, the Guard Captain wouldn't leave that for tonight.
>For the next couple of hours that night, he instructed you on the absolute basics on how to hold a sword.
>More specifically, what the jian excells in its versatility.
>Unbeknownst to you, there were actually three "divisions" to the blade, and that they all were meant to do different things.
>The tip of the jian was meant for stabbing, quick cutting, and slashing; an entirely offensive stance.
>For the general area that was the middle, it was safe to say it was the one with the multirole section.
>Heavier cuts with some properly defensive deflection included for the low, low price of those last two fries in the bag.
>Last but not least, the area closest to the hilt was entirely defensive in nature, the foil to the tip's offense.
>Wasn't really jack shit you could do with it beyond taking it, at that point.
>Though most certainly a basic understanding of the sword, it was the jumping point from which teaching could properly begin.
>However, tonight was not the night for weeaboo fightan magic.
>You did get a few practice swings in, though, to better understand what the Captain was telling you.
>It was a surprise to see how fluid your movements felt, each movement of the sword in your hand as natural as a breeze.
>In due time, however, the lesson was over.
>The gruff clearing of a throat was the metaphorical bell to let out this class.
>"Good, you seem to understand how to follow directions well enough. We will continue this at a later date, when the Embassy's blacksmith has forged a blade properly befitting your size and stature. Return to me my sword, and you are dismissed for tonight."
>The stallion said, expectantly waiting for the weapon that he bequeathed unto you be returned.
>Naturally, you would not leave him hanging like that.
>Probably because you had some worries that he might be able to suplex you with his back legs, whilst chewing someone's ass out for whatever reason he could pull out of his hat.
>And so you did as he asked.
>After promptly fucking off, you waited around for the remainder of the time it took for Siltsong to come back home.
>Given that you had been preoccupied with the finer points of wielding a sharp, pointy metal stick, you thought it wouldn't have been long.
>But of course, you were wrong, as a certain overweight director would be so jubilant to remind you.
>As the seconds ticked on by at a glacial pace, yourself becoming anxious over the contents of that meeting, your disrupted sleep schedule called for you to return.
>Though you fought to stay up longer, you could not resist its gravitational pull.
>Finding a comfy seat to slouch down in, you attempt to punch in some extra shuteye, finding a moment's respite from the sudden upheaval.
>That was, until you felt some other presence shift up onto your lap, and curl up.
>Opening your eyes groggily, you were met with a most welcome sight.
>Siltsong, exhausted as ever, laying in your lap as her heavy eyelids were coming to a close.
>Of course, you found this a perfect opportunity to greet her as eloquently as your sleep-deprived mind could.
"Silty? What're you doing...?"
>Swiveling her head around to see the source of that familiar voice, her drowsy eyes met your own.
>"O-Oh...hello there, Anon...just trying to-"
>Her sentence was interrupted by a long, drawn-out poner yawn.
>"-trying to lay down...maybe sleep...I'm tired..."
>Letting her get comfortable for a moment, you soon envelop your beloved mare in lots of post-meeting gentle petting.
"I can tell...what took you so long? It's early morning..."
>Whining softly at having to recant the wonderful memory, Siltsong tried to be quick about it all.
>"It took so long because there was a lot to discuss."
>Running your fingers in her now-straight mane, your thumb providing some high-quality ear scritches, you inqure a bit further.
"Well, what can you tell me? Seems like there was much more than just a meeting of the minds to discuss foreign policy."
>Siltsong weakly waved her hoof in a dismissive manner as her braided tail wrapped around your middle.
>"There's some things I can't tell you...too secret, can't let it be compromised and all that...what I can tell you is that the war situation isn't doing too good in Equestria now."
>You could feel your worries of the fighting arriving at your doorstep increasing,  but in your tired state, it wasn't too poignant.
"Oh. What happened, then, if it required all...this?"
>A couple of moments after shifting around in your lap to get the best Anon-based bed she could, Silty elaborated.
>"Commander Rainbow Dash's offensive failed, cost her a wing and nearly her life...some reports say that Griffonstone might be the next target for Sombra's aggression...Crystal Empire's also making fast territorial gains..."
>Unable to find too much comfort, the Saghaic mare situated her hind legs against your lap, before locking her forelegs around your neck in a weary and gentle hug.
>"Nothing new from home...it's all so tiring...you think you could take us up to bed again?"
>Siltsong requested, her voice quite tinged with a poignant lack of sleep.
>Thinking you were able to get her upstairs without passing out, you nodded slowly.
"I think I can, if that's what you want."
>Closing her eyes one final time, Silty nodded in affirmation, starting to snooze her little pony snooze in your lap and arms.
>Keeping a firm, tight hold of her sleeping form, you carry her back to the room you had been so rudely torn from a good night's sleep.
>An interrupted sleep shcedule was sub-optimal.
>And you needed to rectify this problem by sleeping in late with the Missus.
>Even if things were going to shit elsewhere, you at least had this.
>A mare who you loved with all your heart.
>Someone - some pony - who you knew brought new meaning into your life from day one.
>As you set her back down on the bed, gently tucking in the absolutely exhausted poner, you see her trademark soft smile blossom once more.
>Joining her in bed, you try and get a little more shuteye amid all the new information you took in.
>When you weren't sleepy anymore, then would be a good time to panic over the war's minutia.
>For now, all that mattered was holding the softly-snoring Siltsong close, and making sure you never let go of this little blessing.
>~{Day 282}~
>The news of the failed Northern Counteroffensive began to spread quite rapidly, thanks in no small part to the rugged commander's bold and sudden rise hitting the press and captivating the public.
>Their war hero, now held so tantalisingly-close to Death's doorstep...
>From what you read in the paper, it was presumed that her wing had been nearly sheared off by being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
>In other words, in the line of fire when enemy artillery used canister shot to counteract an assault on their position.
>And so, the final push of the offensive to retake those badlands was transformed into a gradual withdrawal of forces to a safe fallback point.
>All those miles of ground, paid in full with the price of young mares and stallions to the battlefield, lost to the enemy once again.
>It was no real wonder why people and ponies would be feeling a bit of dread for what was to come.
>Last you read in the paper, Rainbow Dash was recovering at a field hospital far from the combat zones, now scarred for life with the disfiguration of a lost wing.
>There were some rumors floating around about a pony claiming to be able to craft intricate and functional prosthetics coming to try and rebuild what was lost, but those remained uncomfirmed.
>Many wondered what would be the next Equestrian response to this newest setback.
>Something told you that they had a plan, one they were unable to disclose to the public for fear of it being a project compromised.
>Of course, that was only what you could fathom a guess from first-hand experiences.
>Things weren't just going poorly on the northern front.
>Oh no, that wouldn't be good enough of a conundrum.
>Things were also deteriorating down south, as well.
>Virtually unopposed, they continued to push through the humid jungles, navigating around the Equestrian defenders further up north of them.
>It was becoming clear as to what they were trying to do now, the crystal ponies under Sombra's will.
>They were encircling Equestria, having driven a wedge between them and the western coasts.
>And now, it would seem as though they were repeating the same exact thing to the east.
>Granted, the reistance being put up would make a Finn proud, but there was some genuine concern that the east coast would be severed from Equestria.
>If anything, it would help bring the nation to its knees quicker.
>Fewer and fewer supplies would be coming to Equestria's aid, if that was the case.
>The problem of internal refugees had improved to a degree, even if a few still trickled in from the recently-ravaged southern lands.
>Mostly, farmers and frontiersfolk eeking out a living on the fringes.
>Rations were starting to get a bit more strignent than before, in anticipation of the worst happening.
>Siltsong didn't like it a whole lot, finding the excessive saltiness of canned goods quite unappealing.
>With rations becoming thinner, and to keep everyone fed, the gardens were cleared to make way for things like rice.
>Actually, that was pretty much it.
>Shit grows like weeds, but unlike them, it'll feed a family with plenty to spare.
>And it probably isn't poisonous.
>Though, for today, things were relatively calm being this far from the front lines.
>Whilst Silty was watching and timidly helping with the growing of that magical fucking grain, you were being taught on more than just holding a sword.
>This time, it was more about how to use it.
>And adding to that, you were holding your very own jian, actually designed to be held by human hands.
>Not human or pony teeth.
>At first, you really didn't know what to expect from your training, aside from the obvious.
>You didn't even know if this was a disaster in the making.
>Much to your surprise, however, it wasn't as difficult as you would have expected.
>Even though Siltsong's Honor Guard Captain had never trained a human in his life, or anything close to one for that matter, you had come a long way from those first days.
>Where once you had the swordsmanship of a weeb, now, you could definitely say you knew this thing like it was an extension of your body.
>Dare you say, you might actually be competent in holding this thing as though it were your johnson.
>That wide stroke of a joke aside, you had a firm grasp on the subject.
>Every lesson had a relatively simple theme from the Guard Captain to follow.
>He'd give you some basic lecture, ensure that you were following proper, disciplined form, and then spend plenty of time afterwards having you undergo sparring with this newfound knowledge.
>It wasn't anything you'd be showing off in the circus anytime soon, but in the words of stallion educating you on self-defense, "This may not dazzle anypony, however, not dying is a higher priority."
>However true his words may be, a part of you was hoping that you would never have to use this newfound knowledge in an actual combat situation.
>It couldn't hurt to be prepared, however, should there be more shadowy actions going on in the political sphere.
>Funny thing about being married- er, almost-married - to a figure in the upper echelons of politics.
>You learn right quick that there are games being played on a whole different level, in a language of power most people weren't sufficiently fluent in.
>Equestrian high society may not have such cutthroat political intrigue, but it was a good idea to follow along with the major happenings and trends, alongside the other minutia of the elite.
>You know, all the shit you didn't have to worry about beforehand coming to Equestria.
>The clash of wooden training blades draws your thoughts closer to reality, your equine opponent striking the subsitute Jian's middle as you tried to withstand the heavy blows.
>Why not use the real deal, you may be asking yourself?
>Pony armor didn't fit you, and in the Guard Captain's own words, "Heaven forbid I actually get you hurt, I would never hear the end of it from my charge."
>It was the nicer of the things he had said to you during this sparring session.
>For instance, when he witnessed your endurance faltering at some forgotten point, he remarked about how he pitied the mare that took your hoof if you thought the amount of time he had you training was forever.
>Cold as a stone, that was, but it was enough to keep you going.
>He may not yell at you like a drill sergeant, at least not as much, but knew how to properly get under your skin.
>Just that right amount to keep you amgry enough to keep fighting.
>With every clash of the wooden blades, you marveled at how long your opponent was able to keep up the barrage.
>The observant, strict stallion-at-arms had noticed you were utilizing the sharp, blade end of the substitute  straight sword with some noticeable displeasure.
>"Anonymous, don't deflect with the blade's edge unless you want a useless and expensive steel paperweight in your future, you prole! Defend with the blade's flat end!"
>His shrill, commanding yell distracted you for but a moment, however it was all that was needed for your opponent to deliver a swift blow with the pommel of the substitute Jian.
>The strike of the blunted end knocked the wind from your lungs, and setting you flat on your ass.
>From your position, you had a perfect view of the Honor Guard you had been sparring with, standing over your form with the practice blade firmly held by his maw.
>A valuable sense of perspective had emerged, one that helped to lecture you on the fickle fate of fighting.
>If this was a real combat situation, you were at the mercy of whomever held you in such a position.
>More likely than not, this would be the last thing a man would see in reward for his shortcomings in battle.
>After a palpable shake of the head, the Captain's voice broke the overhanging silence.
>"Uulchaarai, tsereg...that's enough for now."
>The Bannerpony's stance shifted upon hearing the order from his superior, setting aside the dummy sword.
>Next thing you knew, the Bannerpony was offering a hoof to help get you back on your feet.
>You weren't exactly going to refuse a helping hoof, especially as you were still catching your breath from that pommel strike.
>Grasping his extended foreleg, you pull as he lifted, digging his hind hooves into the dirt as you came to your feet.
"Uh...thanks, man...appreciate the help."
>You utter in between labored breaths, knowing his strike will definitely leave a good bruise for days.
>The stallion silently nods, acknowledging your thanks before going about tidying up the sparring grounds.
>With that, you assumed the lengthy training had come to an end for the day.
>At least, you could assume so if Cap'n Grumps over there didn't have anything in particular to pipe up about.
>Speak of the devil, the Captain breathed a heavy sigh, taking off his felt helmet to run his hoof along his short, braided mane.
>"Whatever am I going to do with you, Anonymous? You certainly aren't the most difficult of beasts I've had the fortune of training, but by the Emperor's Grace, you and your kith must never have lifted a sword before."
>All you were able to conjure up in response was a mere shrug, it being relatively true.
"Can't say that I have, really. Can you tell me what you meant by 'turning a sword into a useless steel paperweight?'"
>You ask, wanting some elucidation on the outburst that "fatally" distracted you.
>Setting the helmet back firmly atop his head after giving his short mane a singular run with his hoof, the stallion-in-charge gestured to his own straight sword, still in its scabbard.
>"A blade without a properly-cutting edge is about as effective as using a butter knife to fell trees. Did you know you could damage this even by simply drawing it from its sheathe?"
>Swords suddenly seemed a lot more fragile, if that was the case.
"No, never did...do you always need it to be real sharp? Sounds like a nightmare to keep them properly maintained."
>He shrugs, the stallion giving you the roundabout "yes" to your rhetorical question.
>"I assume you can see what can happen, thusly, should you strike a blade at such an angle. You can both damage the cutting edge of your sword, and in a twist for the worst, shatter it if you're exceptionally-unlucky. Also, should you have missed it..."
>The Guard Captain draws his own, appropriately pony-sized Jian, before balancing on his two back hooves to show you whatever mystical secrets you have yet to divine about the double-edged blade.
>"...the Jian possesses a three-plate construction, in the middle is a core of very hard and brittle steel; this is wedged between two softer plates of steel, of which protect this brittle middle."
>The more you listened, the more you thought you were listening to a completely different pony.
>"Some of the harder steel core remains exposed, giving the sword its sharp edge. The softer plates adorning it should thusly be used to absorb the blow, because it won't be doing any slashing or what-have-you. Do you understand, Anonymous?"
>As he sheathed the blade, you nodded in agreement, believing that he might be telling you the truth.
"Yeah, I do. Also...how do you know so much about this? I wouldn't have guessed you knew that much about a sword's internals."
>The Captain dismissively waves you off with a hoof, quick to encourage your departure now that training and lectures were done with.
>"My father was a blacksmith, and until destiny said otherwise, I believed I would follow in his hoofsteps. Now, off with you, Lady Siltsong might have more need for you in this moment."
>Well, he did bring up an excellent point...
>And you know what, that was exactly what your plans would be occupied with.
>Departing from the sparring grounds, your search for the mare who had long-since captured your heart began in the repurposed courtyard.
>There, you found Siltsong, trying her best to help with those of her hoofmaids in the gardens.
>Of course, since she never had to perform such a thing in her life, Silty wasn't exactly a mare with the greenest of hooves.
>A few things that did come as a mild surprise was that she wasn't wearing her almost-iconic silk dress, though her mane was still tied up in the trraditional ox-horn style.
>Chattering intermittently with her hoofmaids, she seemed to be getting into the rhythm of preparing the rice plants for the inevitable harvesting season.
>As you stepped closer to greet your sweetheart, it would have been amiss for you to not take note of the whiteish, foamy sweat that had been trickling from her neck and hind legs.
>The latter of which you may or may not have taken a moment to admire, how the mineral-dense sweat seemed to highlight the outline of her appreciable curves.
>However, your focus would rest elsewhere than just mentally copping a feel.
>Coming over and sitting down by your mare, you set your hand on her withers, her coat feeling like hair that had been accumulating a workday's mess, though not as tangled.
"How goes the farming in our little home, Siltsong, sweetest?"
>Feeling a familiar hand now gently residing on her withers and recognizing your voice, distinct from anyone else's, Silty laxed her efforts in connecting with that earth poner magic.
>"Dreadful, Anon...all this dirt is getting in my forelegs' fur, and my coat feels all...all matted and disgusting! I just had a shower, too! The sun feels like it's making it worse, with all this heat. I really do hope I don't catch a suburn..."
>Silts sighed as she pouted regarding the uncleanliness of working the soil, and the toils of what she never had to endure as a mare of noble birth.
"Well, why didn't you wear a hat or something?"
>You question, thinking that she could do with something to avert the sun's aggressive gaze.
>It had begun to finally heat up to what felt like summer, despite the Windigos and their feasting upon this war's suffering.
>"Because I thought it would have messed up my mane, as well, and that this wouldn't have taken such a long time...how Mother put up with gardening, I can't fathom..."
>Your wife-to-be elaborated upon her own reasoning, flawed as it may have been.
>Though, towards the end, her voice had a noticeable inflection of intermingled frustration and...worry, if you were hearing it right.
"Silty...is something the matter? You sound like something has been troubling you."
>The Saghai mare leaned against your side, yourself draping an arm around her as she appeared a bit more crestfallen following your observation.
>"...it must be plain on my face...after you had gone to the sparring yards, a letter had come from Spirits. He was recently wounded in a botched assault on a much stronger position than he thought...he never learns..."
>As Siltsong broke the news of her brother's folly to you, her voice started to catch.
>Not so far as to be a choked-up sob, but you could discern quite easily that it had gotten deep under her skin, having wormed its way into her heart and mind.
>Even as the war situation had been going poorly all-around thus far, it was the first time you think it got especially personal.
>It may have been somewhat silly that the both of you were so concerned about the war when it broke last year, when it was often so far away.
>However, it often finds a way of coming close no matter how far someone may be from the many hells of the front.
>As your mare drew a shaky breath, you gently pet her mane and held her close, thinking now would be a better time to listen instead of offering your hot take on the matter.
>"This is probably the part I hate the most about my assignment, at this faraway post...y-you're never there when something like this happens. Everypony you know, e-everypony you care about...you feel so powerless when the w-worst happens, like this..."
>With every word she spoke, it became harder for her to continue, her words caught in her throat.
>Before long, she didn't even want to continue.
>Having given up on her attempts at assisting with actual agriculture and coherent conversation, Silty instead chose to drape herself onto your lap.
>As you moved to run a hand down her back, with the other gently rubbing her ear, you couldn't help but think to yourself a sort of irony.
>Back when war first came to Saghaic shores, Siltsong was bold and defiant, stating upon that declaration of war between the nations that it would be a decisive victory for her homeland.
>As the war continued to drag on with no end in sight, any victory gained would be hard-fought.
>Within this moment in time, especially, the situation was undoubtedly bleak.
>A cruel irony, you mentally voice, Silt's very tangible concerns bleeding over to you.
>For those ponies like herself with family out in the battlefield, they might be out there, toiling without respite with their brothers and sisters.
>The next, they come back home in a pine box, medals pinned to their chest and meaningless consolations given to grieving mothers.
>Having that Sword of Damocles hanging over anyone would be a torment unlike any other.
>And for it to be hanging ever-so-delicately above Siltsong, 'twas all the more uncomfortable for your thoughts to rest upon.
>Attempting to try and dispel some of this discormfort by comforting the mare in your lap, your mind becomes a bit more vacant, your gaze not fixated on anything in particular.
>You weren't sure how long you held your mare close, offering what sweet nothings you were able, but her voice recalled you from your vacant state.
>"...Anonymous?"
>Glancing down to meet her violet eyes' gaze, you nod, ears open to what she had to say.
"What is it, Siltsong, dearest?"
>Her eyes shifted focus, glancing from her hooves to your visage as she asked her little quandary.
>"I miss them all, so much...I just want to go back home and hold them again...just to know they're well. Do you think it'll be over soon?"
>Petting her mane along its scalp, you mull over the possibility, considering the bleak outlook of the Crystal War from where you stood.
"Really...I don't know, for sure. Maybe things'll turn around again, in time. They have before, right?"
>You muse, thinking back to the cycle of victories and defeats thus far.
>"I suppose so...but in that case, wouldn't it be just as quick to sour for our side?"
>Siltsong presented a valid point, not sure if optimism would be misplaced.
"Maybe; maybe. We can't give up on everyone just yet, though. Something tells me we'll make it, Silty."
>You remark, at the very least willing to have faith for just a bit longer.
>If Sombrero wasn't marching outside Canterlot, you surmised, then it wasn't appropriate to start dusting off a white flag.
>Besides, defeatism was a tiring venture.
>~{Day 301.5}~
>Try as you might to remain optimistic, time had a way of grinding down people under the millstone of attrition.
>Every day as the war dragged on, you felt that tug of concern grow, regarding what was to come.
>What might happen to the future you wanted to build with your aristocratic mare?
>If the defense of the Equestrian heartland falters, what would befall the both of you?
>What was closer; defeat or victory?
>...would this damnable war ever end?
>Staring up at the ceiling in silence, you would recieve no immedite answer.
>Such questions had kept you awake, and no sheep-counting had been able to lull you off to sleep just yet.
>One of 'those' nights, you supposed.
>Restlessness was exactly what you needed in your life right about now.
>Your brooding thoughts were temporarily interrupted by a familiar shifting of weight right next to you, getting more comfortable beside you.
>Followed by quiet, gentle poner snoring.
>Turning your head and tearing your gaze away from the shrouded, unchanching ceiling, you embrace Siltsong just a bit tighter, a smile gently breaking out on your visage.
>A moment of peace and clarity was brought with the sensation of feeling the warmth of her body so close, and running your fingers gently through her lengthy mane.
>You had almost entirely forgotten your woes of being unable to get some shuteye, if only to be able to spend just a little more time with your sweetheart.
>And holding her close, you knew why you stood strong.
>Yeah, you were a big ol' sap and hoplessly lost in romanticism.
>You couldn't really help it.
>Sighing gently after planting a kiss on her cheek, you suppose a different strategy might get you to sleep.
>Couldn't stand strong for your mare if you were on the verge of passing out, after all.
>All there was left to do was to was to pick a choice one...
>Perhaps boring yourself with this strategery talk might do the trick?
>Your name wasn't Anon von Moltkey, but you think you could manage.
>Where had you left off last for the war's progress?
>You thought it was about how Sombra advanced on the southern lands, and it seemed unstoppable?
>Yeah, that did sound about right.
>If memory served correctly, they were performing a pincer attack around the Equestrian heartland, aiming to cut off the nation from the rest of the world.
>And more importantly, the supply lifelines that had helped hold together the beleaguered nation.
>To help tie the noose tighter around Equestria, King Sombra had continued his advance along the swamplands, despite their inherent strategic invalidity.
>All that mattered was to complete the encirclement.
>Battles were quite sparse in the region, as the disgraced commander of the southern armies was able to keep themselves from giving the Dark Tyrant the decisive battle his speed-oriented conquests required.
>At least one thing was going right, in spite of giving up useless ground.
>In fact, across the vast Equestrian theater, fighting had become more scarce altogether.
>Though summer was in full swing, both the Crystal Ponies and the Royal Guard have shyed away from too many battles.
>The frontlines were already massive disregarding pockets of Equestrian resistance, for either side.
>Though it wasn't really feasible for them to get down and dirty in an unimaginably-long network of trenches, a remarkable system of fortresses and castles established in strategic positions has taken their place.
>Each one functioned to support another, each one forged as a strong link of an in-depth chain of defense.
>Neither side wanted to risk launching a spearhead against the other, lest it be readily flanked by forces from another station.
>Of course, that's saying nothing about the sheer expense of laying such a siege against an entrenched position of defenses.
>Though the threat still lingered of an invasion, with how many concentric operations the Tyrant in the North was sustaining, it had relieved some pressure for Princess Celestia.
>It would seem neither wanted to waste such vital harsepower in these phases of the war.
>Naturally, that led to the question as to what else was going on, besides the desperate defense of the heartlands.
>Open, decivise battles may not be as prominent as they once were, but that didn't mean shady shit was not off the table.
>This was war, not an rehearsed game between battalions.
>Most recognizably, the reconnaissance work done by the Wonderbolts and the night bombing raids of the Shadowbolts [spoiler]or Night Witches, whichever worked for yourself.[/spoiler]
>Though the Crystal Empire was gradually adapting to try and counter these aerial menaces, utilizing what battlemages they could spare to shoot down such pegasi troops, their nighttime raids and attentave observations were becoming a growing threat.
>You're still not exactly sure where they got the hoof grenades from, but having seen the reports of them blossoming from an experimental curiosity to a powerful new weapon of war, they took their place as a potent element of the Equestrian arsenal.
>Not to focus far too much on the free pony side of the matter, you had heard rumors of turncoats.
>From the limited gossip of high-ranking nobility to hushed discussions in the streets of the relatively-ordinary pony of Canterlot, fearul and tentative whispers spoke of those whom may have...questionable loyalties.
>It had begun in earnest after a major cannery in the rough vicinity of Ponyville suffered a catastrophic, unusual and rapid set of mechanical failures.
>Luckily, the extent of the damage remained either in lost time and machinery, with the only casualties being injuries.
>The Sun Princess had, for the most part, done what she could to reassure her citizenry, obviously wishing to keep morale high and the people's spirit unbroken.
>After all, there was still plausible deniability it was just a extraordinarily unfortunate accident.
>No need to make Stalinist assumptions of breaking just yet.
>As always with such matters, as the rumor mill churned and roiled as one expected, some ponies even spoke of possible sabotage at an artillery yard or within one of the Flim-Flam Brother's arms manufactories.
>A matter which they fervently denied, not only to keep war morale high, but to give the impression that their facilities were secure from foreign aggression.
>No comment on the safety.
>A sneaky threat that was much more apparent was the sudden but not toally unexpected march on the outlying territories of the Grittish Isles and Griffonstone Station.
>Yeah, not exactly the biggest shocker, especially since they had yet to personally suffer at Sombra's hooves and they did indirectly join the war.
>You mean, hey, what's one more enemy and war theater to add to the list, right?
>From what you could gather from the newspapers, it would seem an armored train formation had stormed through the inadequate defenses of the griffons, and had secured the Station as a forward command post.
>How could they have gotten there by train, you may be asking yourself.
>Well, trains can't float or fly, so clearly they crossed by the only major railway bridge to the Griffon heartland.
>Bridges that should most certainly have been demolished by now.
>Rumor has it the cat-birds were busy bickering over the most cost-effective way to get rid of such a startegic target.
>When they realized their mistake, it was already far too late, and what troops they could spare had to be placed as stop-gap measures to stymie the Dark King's advance while engineer corps further back tore up the railways.
>Oopsie poopsie.
>For the Grittish Isles, King Sombra and his subjugated Crystal Ponies had launched a naval invasion to sieze the aforementioned islands and the strategic port of Trottingham.
>The local military commander of the region had paid much more attention to matters outside their country, for once, and had prevented the immediate fall of the township.
>With his naval invasion of the strategic sea center having been thwarted for now, King Sombra chose to set up shop in a different stretch of the island, closer to the sourthern edge.
>Instead of gaining control of the decisive port city, he would now have to make due with a rough-shod staging ground for a lengthier campaign.
>So, maybe not all was lost, then.
>Other than the much more official entry of Griffonstone into the ever-expanding scope of the Great Crystal War, the only other piece of news worth recognizing from the Griffons was the slowing of supply shipments.
>If the Crystal Ponies had somehow procured seaworthy ships, it wouldn't be too far a stretch to assume they could take on the mostly-undefended shipping between nations.
>That would not do.
>The Griffons were met with a choice of two strategies to deal with the newfound naval menace; super speedy and well-planned single trasport runs, or convoy formations to reduce the risk of commerce raiders.
>Both were currently being carefully tested, gauging the cost-effectiveness of either approach.
>The idea of airships was tossed around in one meeting between Entente powers, according to Silty, due in no small part to Equestria's relative air superiority.
>Whether or not they would take charge and use the developing technology, that had yet to be seen.
>Considering they were already being invaded and more likely than not needed whatever resources they could muster, such ventures appeared a grand luxury, if anything else.
>Beyond the threat to Equestria's feeding pipeline, there had yet to be additional developments on the  Griffonstone front.
>The only other active theater of this war that had yet to be given a once-over was the Saghaic front.
>And so, as you cuddled your exotic, silvery mare, you'd recall what infomration trickled down to the Imperial Embassy.
>For starters, where exactly were the hordes of Bannerponies to fight King Sombra's advance?
>As far as you could tell, what Bannerponies hadn't been cut off during the opening stages of the Crystal Empire's invasion through Yakyakistan, the regrouping Imperial soldiers had taken to a more defensible position deep into the Saghaic Empire.
>Where, exactly, you couldn't tell.
>What you could discern was that they had a majority of their forces mustering deep within their own territory, with armies like those under your wife-to-be's brothers' command being more isolated pockets of resistance.
>The levels of success varied quite greatly, considering that each of these tümens of Bannerponies were pocketed deep behind enemy lines.
>For those under skilled tactical leadership, tales of their exploits no doubt inspired many of the Saghai, a great morale boon.
>For the rest, however...
>The encirclement would mean eventual defeat.
>Often, this ended in the utter annihilation of the tümens in question, no matter how defiantly they resisted the massed onslaught of mind-slaved ponies.
>Whether out of bravado or complete inability to maneuver out of such an engagement, many of the green recruits and inexperienced officers were cut down, ensnared by an overwhelming enemy on all sides.
>Speaking of which, the movements of the Crystal Empire's brainwashed armies might just be titllating enough to lull you off to sleep.
>As was to be expected, they had conquered much of the far eastern territories of the Saghai, and were soon to reach the great natural barrier of the Wailing Mountains.
>Their lightning speed was in no small part assisted by their southward expansion into Equestria, no longer being constrained by the logistical bottleneck made by the harsh terrain hugging the North Luna Sea.
>In fact, before the war had began, a new railroad had been opened across a southern land route with much formality and ceremony, linking the two nations closer together.
>As a side note, you had learned this was one of the first diplomatic missions Siltsong had undertaken.
>A good way to start one's career, but you digress.
>Them sexy troop movement charts were here to try and manifest themselves into your dreams, if you would get to having them, that is.
>Interestingly, it would appear much of that eastern territory they had conquered was sparsely-populated in comparison to the coveted heartlands, and with it much of Saghaic industry remained out of King Sombra's clutches.
>Perhaps the Emperor had let his generals play out a different strategy than the Equestrians?
>Unlike how either side fought tooth and hoof to gain or keep ground, it would seem the far-western ponies chose instead to simply let the Crystal Empire have those border territories.
>Given their complete disorganization at the start of the war, along with having the bulk of their western sector forces encircled and/or destroyed, they were in no real shape to be waging costly battles.
>Should the Wailing Mountains provide a temporary buffer zone instead of being just another natural speedbump, perhaps they may be able to properly counterattack once they have the resources and organizational ability.
>However, that was for the future to know.
>And that would be all new from the Western Front.
>The only last bit of significant news would be from the far north, where the subjugated yaks fought an uncoventional war against their occupiers.
>They hadn't been committing to too many operations as of late, attempting to avoid having their resistance cells hunted, drawn and quartered.
>Can't resist an enemy if there's no more of you to resist, right?
>Tax dollars funded your education.
>You frown in mild disappointment, still not having found yourself much closer to the rest you so dearly pined for.
>Surely, you must have found some of that as exciting as valium.
>Curious about how much time had exactly passed, you sit up in bed to try and get a better view of the small, discreet clock nestled against the only wall that wasn't converted to a bookshelf.
>Though your eyes were quite adjusted to the darkness that flooded the bedroom, you still couldn't quite tell what the fuck those little barcode-lookin' things were saying.
>Unbeknownst to you, your movements had been a bit more aggressive than you anticipated.
>A stirring was felt beside you, and a soft, sweet voice broke your concentration.
>"Anon, sweetest harmony...why are you awake? It's so late..."
>Siltdong questioned, hugging your side gently as her eyes fluttered open.
>Tearing your gaze away from the wall to meet your beloved's, you wrap your arm around her gently and respond succinctly.
"I don't exactly know, Silty. Guess I might be partial to insomnia, at least for tonight."
>You shrug your shoulders in punctuation, playing with her tussled mane gently.
>Her dazzling amethyst eyes carry concern, seeing as it was likely into the quaint hours of the morning by now.
>"What's keeping you awake, Anon...? It must weigh on you heavily."
>You shake your head, aiming to assuage any worries she might have.
"Just...stuff. Things like the crazy world outside of Canterlot and the future. Nothing too big to really worry about."
>You reassure her, planting a kiss on her forehead to accentuate your words.
>Silty, for her part, blushed softly as she huddled against you, holding onto you a bit tighter.
>"Do you promise, my Prince?"
>With a nod and a chuckle, you commit this promise to her.
"I promise, Siltsong, with all my heart."
>Just to be on the super safe side, you gave her a hug in response.
>Pony mares loved them hugs.
>Resting her cheek against your side, the light of your life cozied up now that she had awakened, too.
>"But...seriously, what is it you were thinking about, Anon?"
>You scratch your chin for a moment, before shrugging your shoulders in response.
"Eh, other than the obvious, kinda thought a bit about the future. A bit hard to see where we stand from now...but a man can dream about it, can't he?"
>You muse, placing your thoughts in a happier place than the gloom and doom of before.
>"And would you be willing to elaborate for your fiancée?"
>Silty asked, the hard keratin of her hoof drawing against your side.
>There wasn't any harm in sharing a late-night conversation, and so, you obliged your mare.
"Sure thing, sweetheart. It's mostly just about us, and what we might get to do, once all this finally blows over. Right about now...I'm wondering what the future after the war has in store for us. Not only with your position, but the whole 'nobility' thing."
>"Are you afraid of the Imperial Court, precious harmony? It isn't that cloak-and-dagger of an aristocratic assembly, and there have been marriages between the nobility and common ponies before now."
>Well, if that didn't soothe any of your concerns or worries.
"It's, uh, not necessarily them I'm nervous about. It may be difficult, but I think I could adapt to that kind of life. To what degree I can, anyway..."
>You take a pause, breathing a quiet sigh.
"I'm more concerned with ponies of your house than what some stuffy nobles think of us being together."
>A soft-if-sly smile arose on Siltsong's face, perhaps finding your words cute.
>"So, you're saying you have the jitters about meeting your marefriend's parents?"
>She teasingly chimed, her smile outshining the moonlight as it grew.
>As cliché as it sounded, that was pretty much just as you put it out there.
"Yeah, I mean...it's not like I've ever met them, or had any real chance to make an impression...them being powerful ponies doesn't exactly make that any easier o-."
>Before you were even able to finish, a set of soft lips met with your own, silencing your worries.
>Naturally, you were surprised by the sudden affectionate contact, but just as quickly you grew to embrace it with open arms.
>It may not have been the most intimate and luridly-leading of kisses, but it certaintly brought peace to your errant mind.
>As always, a powerful and loving embrace such as an earnest kiss between lovers did need to break if only momentarily, and before you knew it, her soft lips left yours alone.
>Siltsong's eyes were gently lidded, an affectionate smile disarming all worry you may have had remaining.
>"Did that help make it better, Anon? Mother always said a kiss made almost anything feel better..."
>Tussling her mane up, you nod in agreement with that motherly adage.
"I can safely confirm she was definitely right on the money there, Silty. A wise mare if there was any."
>Wistfully, and perhaps with a slight somberness, Siltsong gave a slow and short nod.
>"She most certainly was."
>In the quiet that followed, the silvery mare curled up closer to you, seeking your embrace as her head rested against your chest, her freed two-tone mane spilling out onto it.
>Getting comfy and pushing you towards your next insulin injection with how sweet she looked, you supposed.
>Yourself relaxing with your soulmate, you believed you might just be able to come to rest before long.
>The tranquility of the night now seemed to suffuse your being, an uninterruptable peace it seemed.
>Curiously, if your strained your senses enough, you could hear the growing sound of voices.
>It took a moment to recognize, but it was undoubtedly the detatchment of Bannerponies that garrisoned the Embassy.
>It didn't sound as though they were close, but rather, much further away than you'd think.
>You would suppose they might be yelling or shouting, from how distant they sounded, but you couldn't decipher the content of it.
>Odd, what might they be getting into a fuss about?
"...hey, sweetheart...do you hear that?"
>Her poner ears perked up, standing at attention and scanning the airwaves.
>"Is that my honor guard, Anonymous...?"
>You nodded, finding some comfort in knowing you weren't just hearing imagined noises.
"I think so...you know why they'd be doing that?"
>Siltsong shook her head, clearly nonplussed.
>"No, not at all...you should know they tend to be quiet around this time of day."
>Something must be up, at least to the night-shift.
>Given their overprotective nature of their charge, this was probably not a drunken quarrel after getting lost in the fire-water.
>Or yelling at passerby for their own enigmatic reason.
>This by itself wasn't too alarming, but on its heels, the sounds of sets of hurried hooves against the stone pathways emanated through the otherwise silent night.
>And about a minute later, the alarming ring of a tocsin shattered the veil of calm as it flooded the Embassy.
>Where once confusion and uncertainty stood, now dread took their stead.
>Both you and Siltsong knew to a degree what it meant; the compound's integrity had been potentially compromised.
>Instead of being too shocked to act, you glanced to your end of the bed, hoping beyond hope that you had not left a certain something out of the room.
>And fortunately, to your great relief, the defensive tool you had in mind was right where you left it last.
>The Imperial Embassy's resident blacksmith had finished hammering out the jian only a few days ago, and though an excellent weapon judging by its craft, you had hoped you would never have to actually use it.
>Reluctantly, you let go of your love, taking up arms and grabbing the blade by its rather plain scabbard.
>Looking over to your Saghaic mare, her expression was awash in anxiety, never having really lived through this kind of terror.
>Admittedly, she was a mare who more than likely lived a more sheltered life than most, so you really couldn't blame her for it.
>You gesture for her to stay put, while you pull a white guy move and consider investigating as the sound of hurried hoofsteps drew ever closer, climbing the stairs before stopping somewhere down the hallway.
>Funnily enough, you didn't think you heard the clamor of the lamellar cuirasses the Bannerponies wore that whole time...
>A crashing and the sound of splintering of wood took hold of your mind, the door to the bedroom you shared reverborating with the impact, the action making you rise to your feet and draw the Jian from its scabbard.
>Siltsong yelped, nearly jumping of her skin as another blow nearly sunders the door from its hinges.
>A part of you hoped this was just the guard detachment, here to vigorously ensure the safety of their charge.
>Your grip on the hilt of your blade tightened, the door finally being able to hold no longer, having an arrangement with the wall shortly thereafter.
>Your hopes were extinguished when two glowing green, slitted eyes met your own, a pony clad in armor you hadn't quite seen so up-close and personal before.
>And what made your heart race more was the glint of a sabre in the moonlight, locked in their maw.
>Their eyes possessed no discernable malice, but you could sense the programmed hostility as they looked to you, then to your beloved.
>There was no hesitation in their action, no sorrowful and agonized apologies from a pony forced to act against their will; they pounced, charging you with the intent to cut you down.
>Your spar-sharpened instincts took over, the bladed edge of the cavalry sabre wielded by the brainwashed intruder met with the softer steel of the jian's outer plate in a deafening ring.
>The force of the blades meeting in rhythmic clash nearly threw you off balance, the energy behind the mind-shackled pony being far more than you anticipated.
>They push against your Jian, aiming to overpower you and go in for a slash of their sabre against your unprotected skin, no doubt.
>Heaving with all your strength, you push the quadruped back, regaining your footing and adopting a defensive stance.
>It didn't take the spell-bound crystal pony long before they had recovered, charging at you for another slashing attack.
>This time, they couldn't muster the momentum necessary to throw you off-balance again for a lethal blow.
>And not dying was perfectly fine by your adrenaline-addled mind.
>With almost each strike, you parried with the flat end of your jian, with either dumb luck or drilled preparedness keeping you relatively uninjured.
>Your aim had been to wear down your opponent's vigorous assault, letting them tire themselves further against your stalwart defense.
>As the fight wore on, you spotted an opening to land a decisive blow following another successful deflection.
>You took the initiative, grasping the hilt of your blade with both hands as you brought the blade's edge down upon the crystal pony.
>Unbeknownst to you in that moment, this was not the opening you had been hoping for.
>Having lured you into their feint, they struck back, meeting the razor-sharp edge of your jian with the side of their sabre.
>Instead of the hair-raising screech of sharpened metal slamming against metal, you were nonplussed to see the sword held by the mindshackled crystal pony shattering along the strike line.
>You would have observed dumbfoundedly, thinking how unlikely that such a thing would happen, let alone how you doubted you cleaved with sword-sundering force.
>The crystal pony's next move left you in no such state of affairs.
>Making due with what they now were left with, they utilized this opportunity to deliver a deep, grievous slash against your right leg  with the sundered edge of the curved blade.
>Your flesh split open with searing agony racing through your nerves, the jagged and splintered head of the sabre making it all the less pleasant.
>Of course, you cried out in protest to your newfound misery, having nearly been struck down by it.
>In that moment, you thought you were done for.
>All it would have taken was one more swift strike to permanently neutralize you.
>But it would seem that the both of you, enslaved crystal pony and human with a straightsword, had temporarily forgotten about something.
>Or, more accurately, someone.
>A brief gallop was all the warning either of you had before Siltsong tackled the crystal pony.
>When her hooves struck, you swore than you heard a sound akin to the crushing and cracking of rock intertwined with the sickening wet popping and snapping of bone beneath flesh.
>You were both relieved that you probably weren't going to die just then, and overwash with a protective terror that Siltsong had just thrown herself into the fray.
>She had done well to not get too involved up to this point, as doing so was probably about as wise as reaching into a dogfight to break it up.
>But now, she was wrestling with the very pony that had left a mighty fierce mark against your leg, having successfully knocked the shattered sword out from their maw.
>The swift victory was not enjoyed for long; following a notable struggle, the brainwashed crystal pony winded the enraged mare with a blow to the barrel, heaving her off of.
>As they meekly rolled over and stood to their hooves, the sound of many hooves of soldiers amid their shouts and calls to arms drew near.
>Though you couldn't tell the expression of the crystal pony beneath that mask of steel and foul magics, glancing between the reeling mare and the doorway, you could feel the realization that they were now at the end of their rope.
>And you didn't spend this precious moment idly.
>Not while your beloved was threatened by this intruder.
>Marshalling your strength and perservering through the agony of an open, extensive wound, you grasp the hilt of your straight sword and charge your disarmed opponent.
>Having your fight-or-flight response overclocked towards the former, it didn't take much convincing in that moment for you to follow through with the act of self-defensive slaying.
>First, the sound of a well-crafted sword slicing through hair came to your ears as the thin and razor-shap wedge drew to their throat with great velocity.
>Then, a thwack somewhere between splitting wood and a stone splashing in water.
>The deed was done.
>As you let go of the hilt of the jian, the slivers of moonlight that did flow through the window gave you an illuminated view of your actions.
>The crystal pony's glowing green eyes fade into nothingness, choking on their own glittering blood as they hemorrhaged their life's essence on the floor.
>Falling to your knees as the pain of your still-open wound catching up now that you weren't locked in a life-or-death struggle, you attempted to put the horrible image of what you'd done out of your mind to make sure your beloved was still well.
"S-Silty, are you okay? ...please tell me you're okay..."
>You uttered as you crawled over to her laying form, hearing her labored breaths as she looked around for the source of your voice.
>"I...I-I am well, just hurt...a-are you well, Anonymous? Yo-You...you got hurt..."
>Her violet eyes met yours moments after you were reunited with her, tears beginning to well up from the experience.
>You glanced over to your wound, seeing the blood still flowing and the area now painted crimson.
"Y-Yeah...it looks and feels kinda bad..."
>She chose not to eye the gash along your calf, nor the now-deceased crystal pony.
>All Siltsong chose to do, after the traumatic experience of a home invasion by a political enemy, was hold on tight to her only source of comfort and begin to cry.
>Her pitched sobs and the sensation of tears rolling onto your chest were the first among many stinging sensations to shatter the illusion of safety.
>So far behind the battlefields were the both of you, yet now just as vulnerable as the common soldier fighting and dying miles from home.
>A first real taste of the depths war can go to.
>Bannerpony hoofsteps soon began scaling the stairs, their voices calling out to their charge for her condition.
>In between weeping for a time now gone, she responded to their calls.
>"*I-I'm well, but Anonymous...he's hurt and bleeding, pl-please hurry! He needs medical attention!*"
>Siltsong answered in her native tongue, holding onto you as you did what you could to comfort the despondent silvery mare.
>You were very much relieved for the first real time to see Silt's honor guard, clearly battle-battered from an entanglement presumably from more of these crystal ponies.
>As they investigated the scene, alongside treating your injuries, there was only one question still left in your mind.
>Why?
>Why would King Sombra launch such an attack?
>You weren't sure if this was just for instilling fear, or something far, far worse.