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The Next Dawn
The stench of burning flesh is not one I am likely to ever forget. Not that I wouldst, were I given the choice. These are still ponies we’re fighting, and it's ponies who we've failed. The least I can do is to remember their sacrifice.
Our battles with the faction calling themselves the New Lunar Republic go about as well as one would imagine: we seem to be locked in a stalemate. It is no real wonder. These ponies are skilled, determined, and fanatically loyal to their Princess. It's a dangerous combination; the same one I see etched into mine own soldier’s faces.
By contrast, they call us the Solar Empire, not that we've ever propagated such a name. I suppose the word “Empire” is meant to sound oppressive or restricting, but personally I think it has a nice ring to it. I am comforted by the notion that Princess Celestia is constantly watching over me.
Speaking of the Princess, to fight alongside her is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The power she commands is simply unreal, though I hath ne’er seen it used against any other pony. Nay, observing her battles with Nightmare Moon from a distance is plenty enough for me. She has entrusted me with her troops, and it is an honor to lead them into battle in her name. I-
“Sir!” The tent flap snaps open as a soldier barges in. “Northern scouts hath reported movement, sir! An army marches upon us!”
I am already donning my foreleg greaves and helm, my writings forgotten for the moment. “How many?”
“Specialist Swift Wing doth estimate the force at nearly 100,000 sir. Supported by Earth Pony heavy artillery.”
The number stills my hooves as well as my heart. “That- that's practically her entire army.”
“Aye, sir.”
So that's it, then. Nightmare Moon’s last stand. Our hour of victory or defeat approacheth. And me with barely half that number under my command. “What of the Princess?”
“On a hill to the west, sir. She hath not moved for some time.”
I force my body into motion, sweeping past the soldier to the twilight outside. I wouldst say the setting is appropriate, even poetic, but it hath been twilight for a fortnight, mayhap longer. “Rouse the troops,” I order. “Form a defensive arc upon the plains to our north. Position the pegasus archers at 500 metres and the artillery behind the arc. On my honor, we shall not be caught off guard again!”
“Sir!” the soldier runs off, but I have a different destination. I begin a full gallop towards the western edge of our camp.
Would that I could say that the rows and rows of soldiers passing below me brought a sense of reassurance to my mind. The only thing I can think about is the number of these good ponies that will ne’er again see their families, or the glorious moon above them. Would that I could blame somepony else for their imminent deaths, but every single one will be on my conscience.
The upcoming battle shall be the last of this war, come what may: our destruction or theirs. Mistress Nightmare Moon has grown irascible in the journey to this point. In that regard I must confess some ill-temperedness of my own. All we want is for this conflict to be over, for the moon to be shown the respect she deserves.
Alas, war is never pretty, and rarely respectful. Not all of the ponies I command believe this to be true. They fight for their Mistress, as I do, yet I cannot help but think that some were all too eager to join this cause. There is loyalty, and then there is fanaticism. These ponies shall perish not knowing the difference.
I mustn’t disgrace our Mistress with any disrespect, no. Nothing so callous. My job is simply to command her armies to the of my abilities, while she fights the Solar Princess. Were it not for her, several thousand more wouldst surely succumb to the burning magic that haunts my dreams.
A shadow descends around me, coalescing into the form of a towering black alicorn. Her wings are a whisper, her voice a hiss. “News, General,”
I mustn’t look her in the eye. “Our march progresseth smoothly, Mistress. We shall meet the Solar Empire in combat less than two hours hence.”
“Good. Thou knowest their strength?”
“Aye. Fifty thousand troops, including archers and artillery.”
“We shall rout them. No longer shall We be known as an inferior being. No longer shall Our nightly canvas go unappreciated.”
This, methinks, was not meant for me, and so silent I remain. Even with superior numbers, General White Lightning will be prepared for us. Two hours is plenty of time to mount a defense. I have no illusions about the cost this battle shall wrest from us, nor am I so naive as to expect to survive until moonrise.
Even in the low light of the impending sunset, our Princess stands resplendent as I crest the hill. Her golden armor catches the sun’s rays in sharp points and angles, and reflects them on the grass surrounding her. I bow respectfully as I approach. “Nightmare Moon’s armies march hither, Milady. Thy orders?”
Neither of us move for mayhap a minute. My bow does not falter; I wouldst hold this position for hours, if need be.
When my Princess does speak, it is soft and resigned. Her tone very much matches my thoughts earlier about the inevitable end of this war. “Thine orders, General, are to do thy best. We put our faith wholly into thee, this one last time.”
Last time? I rise. “Art thou not hopeful, Milady? Or shall I begin penning my resignation?”
“Thou hast done an exemplary job, General. We only fear that no matter the outcome of this battle, be it day or everlasting night, We shall have little need of thy services afterward.”
“I understand, Princess. Wilt thou speak to the soldiers?”
“We shall, General. But first, We must speak to thou.
“It hath been an age, it seems, since We hath spoken to the mare who now calls herself Nightmare Moon. Far, far too long, and We find Ourselves regretting each moment.” I had never seen the Princess hang her head before today. “We failed her, General. We need you to know this. We art capable of failure, and this was a failure of the highest magnitude. Now, somehow, We must remedy Our transgressions. We can only hope Nightmare Moon is receptive. We… We cannot lose her. If We do, We fear We shall lose Our very sanity.”
I feel as though there must be something I couldst say to comfort my Princess, but alas, I know not what. I settle for silence, at least until I see the bejeweled chest the Princess levitates to her eye level.
“If nothing else,” She says in that same defeated tone, “We must protect what remains of Our ponies’ livelihoods.” Five brightly colored gemstones, bound by a golden aura, levitate out of the box and circle the Princess’s body. I can feel the magical power radiating off of them from my position ten paces away.
“It has been an honor, General White Lightning.”
“No, Princess. The honor is mine.”
The last dregs of daylight fade as the Solar Empire’s camp comes into view. I order a halt just before the edge of the forest. If I know White Lightning, he will have pegasi in the clouds waiting to rain fire upon us, and t’would be folly to charge across an open plain against such an onslaught. So long as the sun rests in the sky, at any rate.
“The soldiers are ready sir. We await your order.”
I close my eyes in an attempt to calm my heart faster. The action has the double purpose of masking my surprise. The turn to face my second-in-command reveals golden eyes and slitted pupils in a sea of darkening shadow. “Our thanks, Colonel. Shan’t be long now.”
Colonel Dark Star steps from the trees, revealing glistening fangs and bat-like wings shielding his body: a Thestral Elite. “Might I ask, sir, Why thou art all by thy lonesome out here? The troops have anticipated your hour of victory on this most glorious of nights.”
“They know not whereof they speak, nor wherefore they dost celebrate. Too many shall not see the moon take its rightful place in the sky.”
“Your cynicism is unwarranted, sir. Thinkest thou we hath no chance? Against those fetid sun worshippers?”
“I am hopeful, Colonel, but not optimistic. Romanticized illusions of glory do not a victory make. We must remember that this battle will be no less hard fought than the ones prior. Fifty thousand is well enough for the Solar General to run us through.”
“Perhaps.” Dark Star’s eyes suddenly flash. “Night falls, sir. The time, it seems, has come.”
I nod. “Sound the horns.”
The sound of a battle horn is unmistakeable, and carries easily over the plain. Almost immediately, no less than sixty heavy bolts, no doubt enchanted to be magic resistant, rocket from the trees.
“Fire at will!” I call to my artillery commander. “Load the fire bolts and aim high! Flush them out of the forest!” I then turn to the pegasus beside me. “Set the grasses ablaze. Make them work for every hoof they gain.” He shoots skyward, and it isn’t but a minute before our own volley is launched.
Their bolts puncture the area shield and impact with heavy thuds. One impales almost the length of my leg into the ground to my left. Screams behind me indicate that somepony hath been hit. Poor soul. I mourn him for as long as I can before moving down the hill and teleporting to the front lines.
Our own artillery bolts have done their share of damage as well. The forest begins to burn, forcing the charge of one hundred thousand ponies into the range of our archers. With any luck, they will abandon their artillery, but water spells are not difficult, and they may be able to save small areas from our flames.
The downside is that I have just forced the charge of one hundred thousand ponies toward my army. They pour out of the trees, a writhing mass of shadowy figures framed only by the backdrop of blazing foliage. “Hold! Hold, I say!” The order is difficult for even me to obey. The wave of black-armored death barreling toward us is on the list of most intimidating things I have ever faced as a General under her Highness. “We must hold! For the Princess, for Equestria! For the promise of a new day!”
“Raahhh!” My army cheers behind me. Two to one odds are not insurmountable.
Dodging arrows as well as flaming patches of grass is all in a night’s work against the Solar Empire. My hooves fly across the field, my horn blazing beams into my opponent. I cannot see for the smoke; while thestrals are deadly at night, their command of the air is no match for a Solar pegasus. Therefore, the wind is not on our side tonight. No matter. My stallions have been through worse.
“They hath formed a defensive arc! Punch through and flank right! Overwhelm them!” My shout is relayed through the army even as we gallop at top speed.
In seconds, we art upon them. A streak from my horn cuts down the first oppressor and my hooves slam into the second. After this I am in the thick of it. My world becometh a whirlwind of fire, magic, and white uniforms to destroy. My mind shrinks to pinpoint actions: duck, kick, shield spell, riposte, repeat. To be honest, my blood rejoices in my veins, my being more alive than it hath any right to be. I refuse to feel shame for this.
From the corners of my vision, thestral after thestral falls. The fools have underestimated their opponents for the last time. The Empire may be ruthless, but their training is efficient and effective. I hath seen it first hand too many times.
Their line is strong, but we are many. I pray to the moon our flanking forces are able to meet us soon.
Too soon the real fight begins. My line performs admirably, But there are simply too many of them; we must fall to secondary positions. My horn pierces through rebel after rebel; they are throwing themselves at me. I suppose they can afford to.
“Sir! They art flanking our left side!”
We do not have room for complicated maneuvers: Hills are behind us, fire in front. My brain races through the possible retaliations as well as the consequences before deciding upon one. “Reinforce with the right troops and form a reverse ‘V!’ Funnel them into the hills! Superior tactics shall win the night, stallions!”
The courier flies off, his whistle translating my orders into shrill shrieks. The brief distraction allows a thestral warrior to pounce me, however, and I fall back, fangs inches from my neck. Sometimes I wonder if these thestrals are more beast than pony. I head butt the rebel, roll him off me, and finish him with a magical blast, but the encounter has injured my right hind leg. Then I hear the one thing I had hoped to avoid.
“CELESTIA!”
If one hundred thousand ponies charging at you can be classified as intimidating, their mistress is downright terrifying. Nightmare Moon tears across the sky, her bellow loud enough to be heard across the country. Our Princess hath no choice but to meet her in aerial combat. I do not envy her.
I have stared skyward too long, and my shield spell barely deflects a sizzling beam of energy. Before me is a face I recognize from her Majesty’s briefings. “General Black Streak. Fancy seeing thou here.”
“Impressive reaction, White Lightning. Thou livest up to thy name. It is a shame to kill such a specimen.”
“I hath no plans of death tonight, rebel. Thou must realize meeting me was foolish.”
“Aye, perhaps. But thou knowest I couldst not live with myself had I not made an attempt.”
The battle rages on around us. Searing points and lines trace the celestial battle above while my stallions slowly but surely turn the tide on the slopes of the hills. “Thou canst win, Black Streak. Admit thy folly!”
Admit my folly, he sayeth. “The only pony who here hath erred is thy ruler, General! Hath she not told thou what she hath wrought?”
“My Princess’s personal dealings art none of my concern. She is a just ruler, and thou art foolish to defy her!”
We have begun to circle one another. I notice him favoring his left hind leg. The advantage is mine, then. “Thy blind devotion shall be thy undoing. Mark my words.”
In an instant, he hath charged a spell and fired it. My shield holds easily, but it appears the preliminary attack was merely a distraction, as I find him suddenly behind me with a buck aimed at my neck.
The strike is off balance due to his injury, and I am able to roll with it and fire a spell of my own. He teleports again, this time away from me, and charges what I assume to be an area effect spell. I cannot give him that chance.
My legs blur from the motion through which I put them, carrying me several metres in the space of a second. By the time he hath registered a look of surprise, my horn is at his throat. He rears and catches my face with a hoof, but stumbles in the process. I take the chance to leap at him, but his spell is released before I come close.
Of course: tis a fire spell. One wouldst think they teach nothing else at their academies. I barely have time to protect my torso before I am awash in flame. I tumble backward, the smell of mine own flesh burning stinging my nostrils. Lying supine, I can make out my Mistress battling his Princess. Then his face fills my vision. “This is how you fight, and this shall be thy future,” I cough. “Thou hast been taught naught but death and subjugation.”
“Would that it could end any other way, General. Thou art a good pony, methinks. Thou hast simply picked the wrong side.”
“Wrong, Lightning? There is no wrong in this world.” I would shake my head, but the burned skin on my neck prevents me from doing so. “There are only conditions, and how ponies react to them. Actions are neither right nor wrong, they cannot be. Everypony believes he is doing the right thing. Who art thou to define it for the rest of us?”
He seems to consider this, but is interrupted by a gargantuan flash from above, accompanied by a scream. His Princess hovers alone, a beacon of light from the moon illuminating her. My Mistress is nowhere to be seen.
“Is it right, White Lightning? Is it just for your Princess to kill? For what reasons can she justify the death of her constituents? How many of her ponies hath died tonight, and for what? Kill me if thou must, But thou should consider carefully thy reasons for thy allegiance.”
He does not move, either toward or away from me. “It is over,” he states. “The Nightmare’s reign is finished.”
“The Nightmare is dead. Long live the Nightmare!”
The day dawns. I have ne’er been happier to see the day dawn.Princess Celestia hath taken control of both celestial bodies, and brought peace to our land. I feel as though I am waking from slumber, ready to serve her majesty in any capacity she should require.
Still, I cannot shake General Black Streak’s words about right and wrong. Or rather, the lack thereof. I know nothing but service to my Princess. She shall not lead me astray. She wouldst not.
The Battle, as it is being called, hath shaken the country to its core. Nigh on sixty thousand ponies hath lost their lives, and a similar number were injured. One hundred and twenty thousand ponies can never go back to their old lives. I myself walk now with a limp, the muscles in my leg unable to fully support me.
But no pony escapes war unscathed. Half of our ruling bodies shall not be seen again in my lifetime, at least. Celestia hath explained to us that the Nightmare Hath not been killed, merely banished. I know not whether to rejoice or to weep. Everything wouldst be easier if there were a definite right and wrong. Damn you, Black Streak. Damn you for putting that doubt into my head.
My amble down the streets of Canterlot Village to my house brings me across the path of a peasant tending his garden. He waves to me, oblivious to the horror that took place just days ago. It feels like ages since I hath been able to measure the passage of time in days.
“Beautiful weather!” He says. “All hail Celestia!”
“Aye,” I reply, the thought of the dictatorial implication leaving a sour taste in my mouth. “All hail Celestia, bringer of the new day.”
Our battles with the faction calling themselves the New Lunar Republic go about as well as one would imagine: we seem to be locked in a stalemate. It is no real wonder. These ponies are skilled, determined, and fanatically loyal to their Princess. It's a dangerous combination; the same one I see etched into mine own soldier’s faces.
By contrast, they call us the Solar Empire, not that we've ever propagated such a name. I suppose the word “Empire” is meant to sound oppressive or restricting, but personally I think it has a nice ring to it. I am comforted by the notion that Princess Celestia is constantly watching over me.
Speaking of the Princess, to fight alongside her is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The power she commands is simply unreal, though I hath ne’er seen it used against any other pony. Nay, observing her battles with Nightmare Moon from a distance is plenty enough for me. She has entrusted me with her troops, and it is an honor to lead them into battle in her name. I-
“Sir!” The tent flap snaps open as a soldier barges in. “Northern scouts hath reported movement, sir! An army marches upon us!”
I am already donning my foreleg greaves and helm, my writings forgotten for the moment. “How many?”
“Specialist Swift Wing doth estimate the force at nearly 100,000 sir. Supported by Earth Pony heavy artillery.”
The number stills my hooves as well as my heart. “That- that's practically her entire army.”
“Aye, sir.”
So that's it, then. Nightmare Moon’s last stand. Our hour of victory or defeat approacheth. And me with barely half that number under my command. “What of the Princess?”
“On a hill to the west, sir. She hath not moved for some time.”
I force my body into motion, sweeping past the soldier to the twilight outside. I wouldst say the setting is appropriate, even poetic, but it hath been twilight for a fortnight, mayhap longer. “Rouse the troops,” I order. “Form a defensive arc upon the plains to our north. Position the pegasus archers at 500 metres and the artillery behind the arc. On my honor, we shall not be caught off guard again!”
“Sir!” the soldier runs off, but I have a different destination. I begin a full gallop towards the western edge of our camp.
Would that I could say that the rows and rows of soldiers passing below me brought a sense of reassurance to my mind. The only thing I can think about is the number of these good ponies that will ne’er again see their families, or the glorious moon above them. Would that I could blame somepony else for their imminent deaths, but every single one will be on my conscience.
The upcoming battle shall be the last of this war, come what may: our destruction or theirs. Mistress Nightmare Moon has grown irascible in the journey to this point. In that regard I must confess some ill-temperedness of my own. All we want is for this conflict to be over, for the moon to be shown the respect she deserves.
Alas, war is never pretty, and rarely respectful. Not all of the ponies I command believe this to be true. They fight for their Mistress, as I do, yet I cannot help but think that some were all too eager to join this cause. There is loyalty, and then there is fanaticism. These ponies shall perish not knowing the difference.
I mustn’t disgrace our Mistress with any disrespect, no. Nothing so callous. My job is simply to command her armies to the of my abilities, while she fights the Solar Princess. Were it not for her, several thousand more wouldst surely succumb to the burning magic that haunts my dreams.
A shadow descends around me, coalescing into the form of a towering black alicorn. Her wings are a whisper, her voice a hiss. “News, General,”
I mustn’t look her in the eye. “Our march progresseth smoothly, Mistress. We shall meet the Solar Empire in combat less than two hours hence.”
“Good. Thou knowest their strength?”
“Aye. Fifty thousand troops, including archers and artillery.”
“We shall rout them. No longer shall We be known as an inferior being. No longer shall Our nightly canvas go unappreciated.”
This, methinks, was not meant for me, and so silent I remain. Even with superior numbers, General White Lightning will be prepared for us. Two hours is plenty of time to mount a defense. I have no illusions about the cost this battle shall wrest from us, nor am I so naive as to expect to survive until moonrise.
Even in the low light of the impending sunset, our Princess stands resplendent as I crest the hill. Her golden armor catches the sun’s rays in sharp points and angles, and reflects them on the grass surrounding her. I bow respectfully as I approach. “Nightmare Moon’s armies march hither, Milady. Thy orders?”
Neither of us move for mayhap a minute. My bow does not falter; I wouldst hold this position for hours, if need be.
When my Princess does speak, it is soft and resigned. Her tone very much matches my thoughts earlier about the inevitable end of this war. “Thine orders, General, are to do thy best. We put our faith wholly into thee, this one last time.”
Last time? I rise. “Art thou not hopeful, Milady? Or shall I begin penning my resignation?”
“Thou hast done an exemplary job, General. We only fear that no matter the outcome of this battle, be it day or everlasting night, We shall have little need of thy services afterward.”
“I understand, Princess. Wilt thou speak to the soldiers?”
“We shall, General. But first, We must speak to thou.
“It hath been an age, it seems, since We hath spoken to the mare who now calls herself Nightmare Moon. Far, far too long, and We find Ourselves regretting each moment.” I had never seen the Princess hang her head before today. “We failed her, General. We need you to know this. We art capable of failure, and this was a failure of the highest magnitude. Now, somehow, We must remedy Our transgressions. We can only hope Nightmare Moon is receptive. We… We cannot lose her. If We do, We fear We shall lose Our very sanity.”
I feel as though there must be something I couldst say to comfort my Princess, but alas, I know not what. I settle for silence, at least until I see the bejeweled chest the Princess levitates to her eye level.
“If nothing else,” She says in that same defeated tone, “We must protect what remains of Our ponies’ livelihoods.” Five brightly colored gemstones, bound by a golden aura, levitate out of the box and circle the Princess’s body. I can feel the magical power radiating off of them from my position ten paces away.
“It has been an honor, General White Lightning.”
“No, Princess. The honor is mine.”
The last dregs of daylight fade as the Solar Empire’s camp comes into view. I order a halt just before the edge of the forest. If I know White Lightning, he will have pegasi in the clouds waiting to rain fire upon us, and t’would be folly to charge across an open plain against such an onslaught. So long as the sun rests in the sky, at any rate.
“The soldiers are ready sir. We await your order.”
I close my eyes in an attempt to calm my heart faster. The action has the double purpose of masking my surprise. The turn to face my second-in-command reveals golden eyes and slitted pupils in a sea of darkening shadow. “Our thanks, Colonel. Shan’t be long now.”
Colonel Dark Star steps from the trees, revealing glistening fangs and bat-like wings shielding his body: a Thestral Elite. “Might I ask, sir, Why thou art all by thy lonesome out here? The troops have anticipated your hour of victory on this most glorious of nights.”
“They know not whereof they speak, nor wherefore they dost celebrate. Too many shall not see the moon take its rightful place in the sky.”
“Your cynicism is unwarranted, sir. Thinkest thou we hath no chance? Against those fetid sun worshippers?”
“I am hopeful, Colonel, but not optimistic. Romanticized illusions of glory do not a victory make. We must remember that this battle will be no less hard fought than the ones prior. Fifty thousand is well enough for the Solar General to run us through.”
“Perhaps.” Dark Star’s eyes suddenly flash. “Night falls, sir. The time, it seems, has come.”
I nod. “Sound the horns.”
The sound of a battle horn is unmistakeable, and carries easily over the plain. Almost immediately, no less than sixty heavy bolts, no doubt enchanted to be magic resistant, rocket from the trees.
“Fire at will!” I call to my artillery commander. “Load the fire bolts and aim high! Flush them out of the forest!” I then turn to the pegasus beside me. “Set the grasses ablaze. Make them work for every hoof they gain.” He shoots skyward, and it isn’t but a minute before our own volley is launched.
Their bolts puncture the area shield and impact with heavy thuds. One impales almost the length of my leg into the ground to my left. Screams behind me indicate that somepony hath been hit. Poor soul. I mourn him for as long as I can before moving down the hill and teleporting to the front lines.
Our own artillery bolts have done their share of damage as well. The forest begins to burn, forcing the charge of one hundred thousand ponies into the range of our archers. With any luck, they will abandon their artillery, but water spells are not difficult, and they may be able to save small areas from our flames.
The downside is that I have just forced the charge of one hundred thousand ponies toward my army. They pour out of the trees, a writhing mass of shadowy figures framed only by the backdrop of blazing foliage. “Hold! Hold, I say!” The order is difficult for even me to obey. The wave of black-armored death barreling toward us is on the list of most intimidating things I have ever faced as a General under her Highness. “We must hold! For the Princess, for Equestria! For the promise of a new day!”
“Raahhh!” My army cheers behind me. Two to one odds are not insurmountable.
Dodging arrows as well as flaming patches of grass is all in a night’s work against the Solar Empire. My hooves fly across the field, my horn blazing beams into my opponent. I cannot see for the smoke; while thestrals are deadly at night, their command of the air is no match for a Solar pegasus. Therefore, the wind is not on our side tonight. No matter. My stallions have been through worse.
“They hath formed a defensive arc! Punch through and flank right! Overwhelm them!” My shout is relayed through the army even as we gallop at top speed.
In seconds, we art upon them. A streak from my horn cuts down the first oppressor and my hooves slam into the second. After this I am in the thick of it. My world becometh a whirlwind of fire, magic, and white uniforms to destroy. My mind shrinks to pinpoint actions: duck, kick, shield spell, riposte, repeat. To be honest, my blood rejoices in my veins, my being more alive than it hath any right to be. I refuse to feel shame for this.
From the corners of my vision, thestral after thestral falls. The fools have underestimated their opponents for the last time. The Empire may be ruthless, but their training is efficient and effective. I hath seen it first hand too many times.
Their line is strong, but we are many. I pray to the moon our flanking forces are able to meet us soon.
Too soon the real fight begins. My line performs admirably, But there are simply too many of them; we must fall to secondary positions. My horn pierces through rebel after rebel; they are throwing themselves at me. I suppose they can afford to.
“Sir! They art flanking our left side!”
We do not have room for complicated maneuvers: Hills are behind us, fire in front. My brain races through the possible retaliations as well as the consequences before deciding upon one. “Reinforce with the right troops and form a reverse ‘V!’ Funnel them into the hills! Superior tactics shall win the night, stallions!”
The courier flies off, his whistle translating my orders into shrill shrieks. The brief distraction allows a thestral warrior to pounce me, however, and I fall back, fangs inches from my neck. Sometimes I wonder if these thestrals are more beast than pony. I head butt the rebel, roll him off me, and finish him with a magical blast, but the encounter has injured my right hind leg. Then I hear the one thing I had hoped to avoid.
“CELESTIA!”
If one hundred thousand ponies charging at you can be classified as intimidating, their mistress is downright terrifying. Nightmare Moon tears across the sky, her bellow loud enough to be heard across the country. Our Princess hath no choice but to meet her in aerial combat. I do not envy her.
I have stared skyward too long, and my shield spell barely deflects a sizzling beam of energy. Before me is a face I recognize from her Majesty’s briefings. “General Black Streak. Fancy seeing thou here.”
“Impressive reaction, White Lightning. Thou livest up to thy name. It is a shame to kill such a specimen.”
“I hath no plans of death tonight, rebel. Thou must realize meeting me was foolish.”
“Aye, perhaps. But thou knowest I couldst not live with myself had I not made an attempt.”
The battle rages on around us. Searing points and lines trace the celestial battle above while my stallions slowly but surely turn the tide on the slopes of the hills. “Thou canst win, Black Streak. Admit thy folly!”
Admit my folly, he sayeth. “The only pony who here hath erred is thy ruler, General! Hath she not told thou what she hath wrought?”
“My Princess’s personal dealings art none of my concern. She is a just ruler, and thou art foolish to defy her!”
We have begun to circle one another. I notice him favoring his left hind leg. The advantage is mine, then. “Thy blind devotion shall be thy undoing. Mark my words.”
In an instant, he hath charged a spell and fired it. My shield holds easily, but it appears the preliminary attack was merely a distraction, as I find him suddenly behind me with a buck aimed at my neck.
The strike is off balance due to his injury, and I am able to roll with it and fire a spell of my own. He teleports again, this time away from me, and charges what I assume to be an area effect spell. I cannot give him that chance.
My legs blur from the motion through which I put them, carrying me several metres in the space of a second. By the time he hath registered a look of surprise, my horn is at his throat. He rears and catches my face with a hoof, but stumbles in the process. I take the chance to leap at him, but his spell is released before I come close.
Of course: tis a fire spell. One wouldst think they teach nothing else at their academies. I barely have time to protect my torso before I am awash in flame. I tumble backward, the smell of mine own flesh burning stinging my nostrils. Lying supine, I can make out my Mistress battling his Princess. Then his face fills my vision. “This is how you fight, and this shall be thy future,” I cough. “Thou hast been taught naught but death and subjugation.”
“Would that it could end any other way, General. Thou art a good pony, methinks. Thou hast simply picked the wrong side.”
“Wrong, Lightning? There is no wrong in this world.” I would shake my head, but the burned skin on my neck prevents me from doing so. “There are only conditions, and how ponies react to them. Actions are neither right nor wrong, they cannot be. Everypony believes he is doing the right thing. Who art thou to define it for the rest of us?”
He seems to consider this, but is interrupted by a gargantuan flash from above, accompanied by a scream. His Princess hovers alone, a beacon of light from the moon illuminating her. My Mistress is nowhere to be seen.
“Is it right, White Lightning? Is it just for your Princess to kill? For what reasons can she justify the death of her constituents? How many of her ponies hath died tonight, and for what? Kill me if thou must, But thou should consider carefully thy reasons for thy allegiance.”
He does not move, either toward or away from me. “It is over,” he states. “The Nightmare’s reign is finished.”
“The Nightmare is dead. Long live the Nightmare!”
The day dawns. I have ne’er been happier to see the day dawn.Princess Celestia hath taken control of both celestial bodies, and brought peace to our land. I feel as though I am waking from slumber, ready to serve her majesty in any capacity she should require.
Still, I cannot shake General Black Streak’s words about right and wrong. Or rather, the lack thereof. I know nothing but service to my Princess. She shall not lead me astray. She wouldst not.
The Battle, as it is being called, hath shaken the country to its core. Nigh on sixty thousand ponies hath lost their lives, and a similar number were injured. One hundred and twenty thousand ponies can never go back to their old lives. I myself walk now with a limp, the muscles in my leg unable to fully support me.
But no pony escapes war unscathed. Half of our ruling bodies shall not be seen again in my lifetime, at least. Celestia hath explained to us that the Nightmare Hath not been killed, merely banished. I know not whether to rejoice or to weep. Everything wouldst be easier if there were a definite right and wrong. Damn you, Black Streak. Damn you for putting that doubt into my head.
My amble down the streets of Canterlot Village to my house brings me across the path of a peasant tending his garden. He waves to me, oblivious to the horror that took place just days ago. It feels like ages since I hath been able to measure the passage of time in days.
“Beautiful weather!” He says. “All hail Celestia!”
“Aye,” I reply, the thought of the dictatorial implication leaving a sour taste in my mouth. “All hail Celestia, bringer of the new day.”
It takes a lot of practice to pull off old-timey writing right. I'm not sure if anyone in the Writeoff can actually do it properly.
This, for instance, like a lot of attempts, is just modern writing with words and phrases replaced by ancient-sounding ones (not often correctly, either). To make those phrases fit, though, takes a different pace and style of expression that's really hard to learn. I'm not sure I could do much better, to be honest.
Basically, I think this would have been more engaging if the thee/thous were toned down a bit. The action was okay, but there wasn't really a plot that went anywhere different from where it started, at least not enough to hold my interest in the characters or the events.
If I had to describe this fic in a sentence, I'd say it's a dramatization of the war between the Solar Empire and the New Lunar Republic, alternating perspectives between the two generals. That's probably what the author intended, but it has no ambition. It didn't do anything new with the generic collective headcanon story of this war. And if you're not going to do anything new with a story, why retell it?
This, for instance, like a lot of attempts, is just modern writing with words and phrases replaced by ancient-sounding ones (not often correctly, either). To make those phrases fit, though, takes a different pace and style of expression that's really hard to learn. I'm not sure I could do much better, to be honest.
Basically, I think this would have been more engaging if the thee/thous were toned down a bit. The action was okay, but there wasn't really a plot that went anywhere different from where it started, at least not enough to hold my interest in the characters or the events.
If I had to describe this fic in a sentence, I'd say it's a dramatization of the war between the Solar Empire and the New Lunar Republic, alternating perspectives between the two generals. That's probably what the author intended, but it has no ambition. It didn't do anything new with the generic collective headcanon story of this war. And if you're not going to do anything new with a story, why retell it?
^I have to agree with the review above about the use of archaic language and diction. It's almost haphazardly tossed in among more modern-sounding language that comes across as anachronistic. At times it's difficult to take seriously, and it took me out of what was otherwise some fairly engaging introspection and action.
My suggestion would be to limit the old-timey language to the Princesses themselves. The other characters can still sound formal, but without the "ne'ers" and "thee/thou"s that characterize your narration.
Beyond that, it feels like a by-the-numbers sort of fantasy war story with an MLP bent to it. Not bad, by any means; as iterations on a common premise or theme go, I found it engaging enough.
I just didn't find it innovative. And if you're dealing with such well-beaten subject matter, you owe it to yourself and to your readers to innovate.
I'd give this a passing mark, overall, however.
My suggestion would be to limit the old-timey language to the Princesses themselves. The other characters can still sound formal, but without the "ne'ers" and "thee/thou"s that characterize your narration.
Beyond that, it feels like a by-the-numbers sort of fantasy war story with an MLP bent to it. Not bad, by any means; as iterations on a common premise or theme go, I found it engaging enough.
I just didn't find it innovative. And if you're dealing with such well-beaten subject matter, you owe it to yourself and to your readers to innovate.
I'd give this a passing mark, overall, however.
I’m a bit disappointed you didn’t point out the absurdity of how the New Lunar “Republic” is still led by a princess.
As others have noted, your command of Early Modern English is shaky at best. Either lose the archaic diction or do some more research on proper usage and conjugation. Aside from that, not bad. Some good strategic drama, but not much new. The last moral dilemma feels tacked on in an attempt to add more poignancy. Still, definitely more good than bad.
As others have noted, your command of Early Modern English is shaky at best. Either lose the archaic diction or do some more research on proper usage and conjugation. Aside from that, not bad. Some good strategic drama, but not much new. The last moral dilemma feels tacked on in an attempt to add more poignancy. Still, definitely more good than bad.
I apologise that I didn't engage with this story: warfare in ponyfic does nothing for me, so my biases were coming out to play from the get-go. But more than that: perhaps the point was that the generals are similar, but I found them bland and interchangeable. I felt as though they had no feelings, measured and detached from the action they were supposedly part of. I hate to use the phrase 'show vs tell' because I don't really agree with it, but I did feel the descriptions were, for lack of an ability to think of a better term, tell-y:
This feels completely empty to me. The general tells me what happened, very matter of fact, without reacting in any real depth, as if this is an account of something in the past rather than something he's actually involved with right now. I would have found it more engaging if it was more immediate, and actions had consequences:
"Someone screams behind me, a sound that pierces my heart. I want to take a moment, mourn him, I do, but I can't. There's no time. I have to get to the front. I concentrate. In a flash of hot light, I'm there at the front. Shouts and screams make me flinch; I close my ears, to no avail. The screams keep getting inside my head, like the bolt smashing into that poor soul before..."
Of course, maybe he wasn't that emotionally invested. But without his emotional investment, I'm not invested either.
Screams behind me indicate that somepony hath been hit. Poor soul. I mourn him for as long as I can before moving down the hill and teleporting to the front lines.
This feels completely empty to me. The general tells me what happened, very matter of fact, without reacting in any real depth, as if this is an account of something in the past rather than something he's actually involved with right now. I would have found it more engaging if it was more immediate, and actions had consequences:
"Someone screams behind me, a sound that pierces my heart. I want to take a moment, mourn him, I do, but I can't. There's no time. I have to get to the front. I concentrate. In a flash of hot light, I'm there at the front. Shouts and screams make me flinch; I close my ears, to no avail. The screams keep getting inside my head, like the bolt smashing into that poor soul before..."
Of course, maybe he wasn't that emotionally invested. But without his emotional investment, I'm not invested either.
War stories are not personally my thing, and stories about them don’t tend to draw me in, so there’s my personal bias. I didn’t enjoy this one, but I see elements that could be enjoyed by others—worldbuilding, a more satisfying and probably realistic battle than the canon 5-minute Nightmare Moon battle, and a bit of battle strategy.
People have already mentioned the archaic language thing, but it wasn’t a big problem for me, with the exception of thee/thou confusion.
I mostly agree with >>Astrarian on this one. For the most part, the narrative is very matter-of-fact, so much as to be distant from what’s going on, and so I couldn’t get emotionally invested. And hey, maybe distance is good for war generals, as it helps them be more objective decision-makers, but that doesn’t make for an immersive reading experience. One option is to make them more passionate. Or, I was thinking, what if the war was told from more passionate characters in this story—the soldier in the first scene who barges in, perhaps, and Dark Star on the other side of the battle? Or some other characters that directly serve the generals? That way, the generals could stay level-headed without sacrificing emotion in the narrative. Some sentiments of the princesses could be relayed through the generals, since I don’t think it’s necessary to establish that Celestia is regretful in banishing Luna and Luna wants her night to be appreciated, unless you’re establishing that the fanon here does indeed coincide with the canon legend from S1.
Agreed with Astrarian on the telliness, too. If you want to convey emotion and immediacy in action scenes, it helps to keep sentences short and choppy, and more stream-of-consciousness than matter-of-fact. Here’s another example:
I don’t feel the emotion here. Some contempt from the first two lines, but I don’t feel the immediacy. He doesn’t describe the pain from the burning flesh, only the smell, and neither does he seem to feel any emotion about this--fear for his life, or anger at his opponent, etc. These are told like facts in a list. It’s hard to empathize. It’s this kind of distance that keeps me feeling distant from the action and the characters.
People have already mentioned the archaic language thing, but it wasn’t a big problem for me, with the exception of thee/thou confusion.
I mostly agree with >>Astrarian on this one. For the most part, the narrative is very matter-of-fact, so much as to be distant from what’s going on, and so I couldn’t get emotionally invested. And hey, maybe distance is good for war generals, as it helps them be more objective decision-makers, but that doesn’t make for an immersive reading experience. One option is to make them more passionate. Or, I was thinking, what if the war was told from more passionate characters in this story—the soldier in the first scene who barges in, perhaps, and Dark Star on the other side of the battle? Or some other characters that directly serve the generals? That way, the generals could stay level-headed without sacrificing emotion in the narrative. Some sentiments of the princesses could be relayed through the generals, since I don’t think it’s necessary to establish that Celestia is regretful in banishing Luna and Luna wants her night to be appreciated, unless you’re establishing that the fanon here does indeed coincide with the canon legend from S1.
Agreed with Astrarian on the telliness, too. If you want to convey emotion and immediacy in action scenes, it helps to keep sentences short and choppy, and more stream-of-consciousness than matter-of-fact. Here’s another example:
Of course: tis a fire spell. One wouldst think they teach nothing else at their academies. I barely have time to protect my torso before I am awash in flame. I tumble backward, the smell of mine own flesh burning stinging my nostrils.
I don’t feel the emotion here. Some contempt from the first two lines, but I don’t feel the immediacy. He doesn’t describe the pain from the burning flesh, only the smell, and neither does he seem to feel any emotion about this--fear for his life, or anger at his opponent, etc. These are told like facts in a list. It’s hard to empathize. It’s this kind of distance that keeps me feeling distant from the action and the characters.
Black Streak seems inconsistent to me. At first, he seems like he's basically the same as White Lightning, which I assumed would be the point. I expected that when they met in battle, they would see each other worthy opponents and equals who just happened to be on opposite sides. Perhaps there would be some message about the futility of war, which the story seemed to be leading to. But nothing like that happened. Instead, they just fought and Black Streak decided to talk about morality. And that morality was at odds with his previous actions too. He certainly seemed to think that he was right and the "Solar Empire" was wrong before.