The Book of Friendship

by BillyColt

Part 1: Learning

 

Chapter 1

 

The comb hung in mid-air, sparkling as it was carefully dragged through the brown mane. The white unicorn kept a close eye on the mirror, as he wanted to make sure that he presented himself as best as he could. He was going to meet somepony special today. Somepony he hoped he’d be very close to.

 

After diligently brushing his teeth, he headed downstairs. His name was White, and he certainly looked it – he was a white unicorn, obviously, with brown hair, blue eyes, and what a beaming smile for a cutie mark. He was the spitting image of white-bread-upper-middle-class-oh-no-I’m-in-some-sort-of-cheesy-family-sitcom-aren’t-I?

 

There was more to him than that, however. The title he answered to was Brother White, for he was a proud member of the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Celestia.

“Well,” he announced at the bottom of the stairs, “I’m off.”

 

“We wish you the best of luck,” said his father, who was also the spitting image of white-bread-upper-middle-class-oh-no-I’m-in-some-sort-of-cheesy-family-sitcom-aren’t-I?

 

“Remember to write us every week,” said his mother, hugging him. His mother was also the spitting image of white-bread-upper-middle-class-you-get-the-idea.

“I will, mother,” he said.

 

“And remember to brush your teeth,” she added.

 

“I always do.”

 

“And when you talk to your partner,” said his father, “remember to let him talk about things that interest him, not just you.”

 

“I will, dad,” he said, laughing nervously.

 

“And White?” Dad asked, just before he left.

 

“What?”

 

“We love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

With his goodbyes over, Brother White left his house, to take part in the most important thing he had ever done.

___________

Another member of the Fraternity was sitting alone at a table. Occasionally, he smiled feebly at other ponies that were passing by. They didn’t pay him much attention – he didn’t say much. He was a dark blue earth pony with black hair, brown eyes, large round spectacles, and a rolled-up scroll as his cutie mark. He was waiting for the big ceremony, where they’d get their badges and then head off to their destination. His name was Scroll, and he was waiting for his mission partner, Brother White. He didn’t know what he looked like, though.

 

He saw the other ponies pairing up at tables, and he worried that he wouldn’t meet his partner until the ceremony, and if they weren’t friends before getting sent off, then it might be less like a friendship and more like “yeah, I have to work with you.” He didn’t want that.

 

“Hello,” said a unicorn, “this seat isn’t taken, is it?”

 

“Huh?” Scroll looked up. It was a white unicorn. “No, go right ahead.”

 

“Thanks,” said the unicorn, sitting down. There was an awkward silence – the blue earth pony wasn’t really one for conversation. Must’ve been shy. “Soo…”

 

“Is this thing working?” asked a pony at the microphone onstage, “Good. Well, Brothers (and Sisters), how are we feeling?”

 

“Great!” everypony in the room responded.

 

“Has everypony met their mission partner yet?”

 

There were various calls of “yes” and “uh-huh” through the hall, except from the white unicorn and the blue earth pony at the table.

 

“Now, today we’ve got something very special for all of you. Fillies and gentlecolts of the Fraternity, please give a warm hoof for – Princess Celestia!”

 

“You’re kidding,” said Brother Scroll, gaping as the Princess walked onstage.

 

“Thank you, Brother Emcee,” said Princess Celestia.

 

“I can’t believe it – the Princess is actually here!” Brother Scroll whispered frantically, “The actual Princess!”

 

“When the Fraternity was first founded, I was pleasantly surprised that there were other ponies who thought that the magic of friendship was worth sharing. I thank you for your time and dedication.”

 

“Now then,” said Brother Emcee, “when your names are called, come up to the stage and receive your badges. Now then – Sister Hope and Sister Starshine…”

 

The ponies went up as their names were called, receiving polite applause from the rest of the auditorium (more popular members got more applause).

“Sister Charity and Sister Promise...” continued Emcee.

 

“I’m nervous,” said Brother Scroll.

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Brother White and Brother Scroll,” said Brother Emcee. Both the ponies stood up.

 

“You’re Brother White?” Brother Scroll asked, surprised, “well, I guess you are…”

 

“Good to meet you, Brother Scroll,” said Brother White, walking up the steps on the side of the stage, Brother Scroll close behind.

 

“Ready for your big mission?” Brother Emcee asked them quietly, holding out the badges – they read “Brother White” and “Brother Scroll.”

 

“You betcha!” said Brother White, eagerly taking his nametag. Brother Scroll, however, was staring at the ponies in the crowd.

 

“I’m standing in front of hundreds of ponies…” he said, stiff as a board.

 

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s not a big deal-”

 

“Of course it’s a big deal, that’s why it’s a ceremony!” Scroll whispered frantically.

 

“Are you feeling alright, Brother Scroll?” Princess Celestia asked softly.

 

“He’s good, just got a bit of the jitters,” Brother White said, taking Scroll’s nametag and slapping it on his chest (Scroll jumped, startled), “excited and all that,” White finished as he walked off the stage to modest applause.

 

Suddenly, Scroll bolted out the door. Brother White looked back on the stage, but they’d moved on to the next pair. He followed Brother Scroll out the door, onto a balcony – the poor earth pony was leaning on the railing, his head over the edge.

 

“I think I need an inhaler,” he said, “well, no, I don’t have asthma… maybe I need to throw up.”

 

“Ooooooookaaaaay,” said Brother White, walking up to him, “is something wrong?”

 

“I’m nervous,” said Brother Scroll, retreating back onto the balcony, “why do we have a balcony?”

 

“It’s a fancy place. But why are you nervous? I mean, ceremony wasn’t that bad-”

 

“Not just the ceremony, but the mission, the Fraternity, the whole thing. I don’t know what I thought I was getting myself into…” he was pacing back and forth frantically, “I don’t know, what did you do when you joined?”

 

Brother White was quiet for a minute. Then he laughed. “Join? Well, not really,” he said, “I mean, my parents were in the Fraternity. You mean, you just joined?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Scroll said, calming down, “I wasn’t born into it or anyth-”

 

“That’s GREAT!” said an excited Brother White, putting a leg around Brother Scroll “This is just great! I’ll be able to show you the ropes, help you out and everything. We’ll be the best of friends! No, we’ll be more than that!”

 

“I’d like that…” said Brother Scroll, smiling bashfully.

_____________

“So, are you ready?”

 

“I hope so.”

 

“I don’t think you needed to pack quite that much.”

 

Brother Scroll was laden down with an enormous pair of saddlebags. The two were getting ready to board their ship. Brother White’s saddlebags were much smaller.

 

“So, where is this place we’re going?” asked Brother White, holding a sheet of paper in front of him, “Earthquake Island?”

 

“It’s not really part of Equestria,” Brother Scroll explained, “their economic situation is lower than ours, and there are… racial tensions.”

 

“Racial tensions?”

 

“Yeah. The earth ponies, the unicorns, and the pegasus ponies don’t really get along well. I don’t know all the details, though.”

 

“There are two other Brothers working there – Brother Shine and Brother Sky.”

 

“Unicorn and pegasus, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“White?” Scroll asked quietly. Brother White stopped and turned around.

 

“I’m nervous,” Scroll continued, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything. I mean, I just joined the Fraternity, and…”

 

“And what?”

 

Scroll lowered his head. “I’ve never really had a friend before.”

 

“Well, you’ll make tons of new friends,” reassured Brother White, “and look at it this way – you’re a living testament to the success of our Fraternity!”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah! Come on, we’re gonna do great!” and with White’s encouragement, Scroll climbed onboard, and they set off for Earthquake Island.

______________

When they arrived two days later, they stepped off the boat and into the town. It didn’t seem like a particularly impoverished area – a little old-fashioned, maybe, with almost all of the buildings made out of unpainted wood, but there were tons of old-fashioned places in Equestria. It just wasn’t… shiny.

 

Brother White surveyed the town eagerly – earth ponies, and lots of them, going through their day-to-day activities. Then White noticed it – earth ponies, all of them.

 

“Not many unicorns here…”

 

“Not any unicorns here,” said Brother Scroll, looking around nervously, “just an earth pony town. All over the island, just earth ponies. No pegasus ponies, either…”

 

“No, there’s one!” said Brother White, pointing his head up in the direction of one frantic flier. There was a loud CRACKing sound in the air, and the pony seemed to lose his bearings. He hit the roof of one of the nearby buildings with a loud SLAM and fell off, several roofing tiles shattering on the ground after him.

 

The two good members of the Fraternity ran after him. He was picking himself off the ground, but with a great deal of difficulty.

 

“Hi!” said Brother White in his usual friendly manner, “We’re with the Fraternity. Is there something wrong here?”

 

The pegasus pony stared at them with an incredulous look on his face. “What?” he asked, as though he’d been told that the sky is filled with bananas.

 

“There he is!” shouted another voice – an earth pony who had rounded the corner. Two more earth ponies followed, and they had with them what appeared to be staves. They raised them and pointed them at the pegasus. The pegasus saw them, and was about to make a break for it, whenBANGBANGBANG!

 

The pegasus fell to the ground, dead. Brother White was covered in blood, and seemed to have gone numb from shock. The smile fell from his face and his right eye twitched involuntarily.

 

Brother Scroll started a panicked fit of breathing, at risk of hyperventilating, and he shouted,

 

“Oh, fuck, they have guns!”

---

Chapter 2

Brother White was in the shower, scrubbing frantically. He’d gotten splattered with blood, and he still wasn’t quite over that shock of seeing somepony murdered right in front of him.

The Fraternity had set up a mission house in the town, but White and Scroll were the only inhabitants – the previous missionaries, Brothers Sky and Shine, were nowhere to be seen.

The mission house was certainly the most modern of the buildings in the town. Fortunately for Brother White, it had a bathroom with a shower, which he had the feeling he’d desperately need on future occasions.

The main, large room had several chairs and a front desk, which had neat little stacks of the Fraternity’s most important text, the Book of Friendship.

“Uhh…” Brother Scroll was outside the door. He knocked, “White? You’ve been in there for a half-hour…”

The water shut off, but not because White had turned it off. “Hey!” White shouted from inside the bathroom. “Who did that?”

“I did,” said a menacing voice from the front door. It was a tall, bulky pony, the color of dry earth, and with what seemed to be a crack for a cutie mark. Scroll swore he could feel himself shrinking. The other pony continued talking, “I’m not about to give away all of our water on some horner.”

“‘Horner?’” Scroll asked dubiously, as Brother White came out of the bathroom, drying himself off with a towel. The other earth pony gave a snort of disgust.

“I’m General Quake. I run this place,” said the earth pony.

“You alright?” Scroll asked White quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” said Brother White, before turning to the pony who had just used a racial slur against him. “Well hi,” he continued, ever cheerfully. Brother Scroll looked at him – he didn’t seem intimidated at all. “I’m Brother White, and this is Brother Scr-”

“I know who you are,” the general cut them off sternly, “more missionaries…”

“Yeeaaaaah,” said Brother Scroll, looking around, “about that ‘more’ part…”

“Where are Brothers Shine and Sky?” asked White, “We were hoping to meet them here.”

“Don’t know, don’t give a fuck,” said the general, “they went off with the other wingers and horners.”

“Huh?” Brother White asked, confused.

“I think…” said Brother Scroll, “he means that Sky went with the pegasus ponies and Shine went with the unicorns.”

“Really?” Brother White asked, “I didn’t hear about that. Wouldn’t they have sent that kind of thing in their letters?”

“Will you two shut up?” the general barked, “As far as I’m concerned, good riddance.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say…” said Brother Scroll timidly.

“Well, I guess I’m not a nice guy, huh?” said the general, walking up to him, which caused Scroll to back into a wall, “You got a problem with that? What, you need your teddy bear now or something?”

“I’m sorry, I, I-”

“Leave him alone,” said Brother White, walking behind the general. The general turned to look at him.

“You know something?” the general asked, “You don’t fucking talk to me. You’re beneath me, and it’s only because I’m so fucking gracious that I don’t kill you right now. So I suggest you stay in line. One wrong hoof, and I’ll-”

“Aaaaaactually…” said Brother Scroll, regaining a little confidence. Quake turned to him. Scroll took a deep breath. “You can’t. Diplomatic immunity… We’re protected.”

Quake eyed both of them, and then circled around to the front of the room, “Sticking up for each other, ain’t ya?”

“It’s part of the magic of friendship, sir,” said Brother White, sensing an opportunity to win over the general, “Scroll and I are the best of friends.” He smiled at Scroll, who smiled back.

“What, are you…” Quake asked, “gay or something?” he looked at the two of them, “There’s no way you two’re straight.”

“Actually,” said Brother Scroll, “the Fraternity doesn’t like to use the word ‘straight.’”

Quake looked at him like he’d heard the dumbest thing in his life. White nodded to Scroll, encouraging him.

“Well…” said Brother Scroll, “the thing is, ‘straight’ means ‘morally upright.’ And if we were to refer to heterosexuality as being ‘straight,’ that would imply that others were morally wrong.”

“The Fraternity is accepting of ponies of all sexual orientations,” said Brother White, helping him, “be they heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, asexual, transsexual, pansexual…”

General Quake finally spoke up. “Well, that’d be fascinating to know if I gave a fuck. The only reason I let you say all that was because it was so stupid I couldn’t think of anything to say.” He turned to leave, “So, you just go around, handing out your fruity little book, but be warned – you’re only here because we’re letting you here. So don’t fucking push it.” And with that, General Quake left the mission.

Brother Scroll sank to the floor. “I can’t do this…” he said, “I can’t…”

“Sure you can!” said Brother White, sitting next to him, “You just did. You saw a big scary pony, and you stood up to him.”

“Well, not really…”

“Yes, really! You did great.”

Scroll looked at him. White was smiling that warm, encouraging smile. “You really think so?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” said White, “and remember,” he placed his hooves on Brother Scroll’s shoulders, “if you ever feel scared, or frightened, or ready to give up, or hopeless, just remember that I’m right here, next to you. I’m here for you, and I always will be.”

“Thanks…” said Brother Scroll.

“Now,” said Brother White, getting up and looking at the stack of books, “let’s go out and do great.”

There was an earth pony family that was sitting down to have lunch. Not a whole lot – just some bread and vegetables. There was a knock at the door. The patriarch of the family went to get it, grumbling – couldn’t they wait until later? Probably just solicitors…

He opened the door, and there were two ponies – one of them was a blue earth pony, and the other was a white-

“Get off of my doorstep, horner,” said the stallion who owned the house.

“Hello,” said Brother White, undeterred by the racism, “are you aware of the magic of friendship?”

The door shut.

“That was rude…” said Brother Scroll.

“Ah well. There are a lot of houses and a lot of doors,” said Brother White, leaving a book on the doorstep.

They went to the next house.

“Er…” said Brother Scroll, “White? Maybe I should handle it.”

“Alright,” said White, stepping back.

Brother Scroll knocked on the door, and then sat down, holding a book between his hooves. An old mare answered the door.

“Hello!” said Brother Scroll, “did you know that there are twenty-seven games you can play with just a pack of drinking straws?”

The door shut. They fared little better at the next household.

“Hi!” said Brother White, “I’m Brother White, and this is my partner, Brother Scroll…”

“So which of you is the top?”

Three hours later, and Scroll was very discouraged.

“Aww, man, what are we gonna do?” said Scroll, “how can we spread the Fraternity’s message if nopony wants to listen?”

“Somepony’ll listen eventually…” said Brother White, “if anypony needs friendship, it’s these ponies…” Brother White ducked as one of the books he’d left on the doorstep barely missed hitting his head, “even if they don’t realize it…” he said, gingerly picking it up and flipping through it to make sure it wasn’t damaged (it was). He sighed. Despite his ever-cheerful attitude, it discouraged him, too.

“Hey! Lemme go!” shouted a voice. The two missionaries ran towards the voice, and they saw a shocking sight – three earth ponies had another earth pony tied up and standing on a chair by his hind legs. One of the others took a rope and threw it over the branch of a tree, and lowered it down to him. The end of the rope had a loop.

“What’s that?” asked Brother White.

Scroll was trembling. “It’s a noose! They’re gonna lynch him!”

“What’s that mean?”

“They’re gonna kill him!”

Brother White stammered for a few seconds as the noose was fitted around the neck, and then he ran forward. “Wait! WAIT!” he shouted.

The earth ponies all looked at him.

“You can’t do this!” White said frantically.

“Why the fuck is a there a horner here?” asked one of the earth ponies, irritated.

Brother White had just about had enough of this.

“Hey, see this?” said Brother White, taking the badge off of his chest, “it’s got something written here. Can you read? Can you? It says ‘Brother White of the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Celestia.’ Now call me ‘Brother White,’ or just ‘Brother’ or ‘White,’ and not ‘horner.’”

The other ponies were silent.

“Now then…” said Brother White, calming down, “untie him,” he said, gesturing to the pony on the chair.

“Why?” asked one of the other ponies, distaste in every part of his countenance.

“Because you can’t just… murder people. We should all be friends!”

One of the ponies glared at him. “‘Friends?’ Is that what you think, chucklefuck?”

“I have a name…”

“You know what this bastard did?” he asked, gesturing to the frightened pony who was, quite literally, at the end of his rope. “Well?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“No, you don’t. Well, I’ll tell you. This little bastard’s out hankering around with my daughter, and you know what he does? He gets her knocked up. They panic, and you know what they decide to do?”

Brother White didn’t dare say anything.

“They get an abortion, and my daughter dies!” spat the older pony, “my daughter is dead. And you think I should be ‘friends’ with this sack of shit?”

The pony on the chair whimpered.

“You can’t just…”

“Yes I fucking can. Unless you or your missionary fuck-buddy can give your wonderful ‘Friendship’ advice.”

“Wait!” said Brother Scroll, who was frantically flipping through the book, “it, uh, it says here that if somepony does something wrong, then that pony should apologize and… and try to make up…” Scroll’s hooves shook as the older pony glared at him, and he dropped the book.

The older stallion bucked, and the chair went out from under the other pony. There was a snapping sound as his neck broke. The pony was dead.

White and Scroll were completely still as the rest of the crowd dispersed, leaving two missionaries and one corpse.

---

Chapter 3

“You really think it’ll help?”

“Sure!” said Brother Scroll, “I mean, hold on...”

It was evening, and they were walking down the road. Neither of them were feeling very good. It had been a bad first day - they’d witnessed two murders, and nopony was interested in hearing about friendship.

Brother Scroll stopped, sitting back on his haunches, taking one of their books and flipping through it.

“Right here,” he said, “good friends can have a lot of fun by going out on the town - restaurants, parties, plays, all kinds of stuff.”

“And this is a...”

“Tavern,” said Brother Scroll, closing the book and putting it back into his saddlebag, “we can get food and meet ponies.”

“Sure,” said Brother White, “sounds great.” It actually didn’t sound great to him. He’d been met with nothing but racism ever since he arrived, but it wasn’t as though the day could get worse for him.

He hoped.

The tavern they went to was in pretty much the same condition as the rest of the town - “bare essentials,” so to speak, all made of wood. Brother White fondly remembered one place he liked eating at back home. Whole building looked like an ice cream cone. No such places here - everything was brown or grey or black.

But he didn’t complain out loud. He looked around as they entered. Two adjectives described the place - loud and hot. There was a fireplace that seemed larger than necessary, with a fire that took up roughly a quarter of the space provided by the hearth.

There were a lot of ponies in there, mostly stallions, save for the barmaid, a cream-colored filly with what appeared to be a frothy mug for a cutie mark. The stallions were all loud, and conversations were nearly unintelligible. Occasionally the Brothers could hear somepony trying to sing.

Brother Scroll tried to keep up the cheerful attitude White had exemplified earlier. “Hi!” he said when they walked in, to nopony in particular.

As he had spoken to nopony in particular, nopony answered him. Brother White walked up to the counter.

“What can I getcha?” asked the barmaid. She spotted his horn. “Say... we don’t get any of your kind around here.”

“I noticed,” said Brother White flatly. A colt next to him grunted.

“Oh, lookit him with his fancy tie,” the colt muttered, “them horners...”

“I got a tie, too...” said Brother Scroll, indicating his matching red tie.

Brother White ignored him. “I’m with the Fraternity.”

“Oh, so that’s why they didn’t shoot you,” said the barmaid. “Sorry,” she added, seeing his pained expression.

During all this, Brother Scroll was looking around at the other ponies. He was nervous about this place, and he wondered whether the book’s advice had been right.

“Could I have a glass of milk?” Brother White asked.

The barmaid looked at him like he’d asked for a bucket of sludge. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

“Uhh, White?” said Brother Scroll quietly to them, “I don’t think they regularly drink milk. Except for foals.”

“Why not?” asked Brother White. Another wonderful piece of luck, he thought.

“Well, they don’t have cows.”

“Oh.” Brother White sat there for a while. The racism occurred to him. “Figures. You have a bathroom?”

“Right over there,” said the barmaid, “over to the left, next to the staircase.”

“Thank you,” said Brother White, following the instructions.

Brother Scroll took his place at the counter. “You’ll have to pardon him,” he said, “it’s been a rough day...”

“Hey, he didn’t do anything wrong,” said the barmaid, filling another colt’s glass, “you’re from where, again? Equestria?”

“That’s right,” said Brother Scroll, nodding.

“And they let horners just come and go everywhere?” asked the colt next to them.

“Yes, and we don’t use racial slurs,” reprimanded Scroll.

Brother White didn’t actually need to use the bathroom. It was a terrible bathroom, anyway, rank with the stench of ammonia and feces. Crude graffiti, from which he learned that the barmaid’s name was Tap, was scrawled over the walls of the stall. Brother White just sat there, staring ahead of him at the door of the stall.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do," he said.

He came out a few minutes later, not having relieved himself at all, and returned to the counter.

Brother Scroll, meanwhile, had been invited to a nearby table, with some colts who, for a change, were not extremely rude.

“So, what’s this book you’re selling?” asked one of them.

“It’s the Book of Friendship, and we’re not selling,” responded Brother Scroll, “you can just have it. Go on, take it.” He held it out to the colt, who, curiosity and courtesy compelling him, took it and started looking through it.

“You see, there was this unicorn filly named Twilight Sparkle,” Brother Scroll continued.

“A unicorn?”

“Yes, a unicorn,” said Brother Scroll, quickly, so as to get past that part, “and she was the star pupil of our Princess Celestia. She was tasked by the Princess to make some friends.”

“Princess?” asked one of the colts, “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” said Scroll, “and in this book, we have her collected letters...”

“That explains all these Dear Princess Celestia things...” said the pony reading the book.

“But there’s more to the book than that - it also has other stories and lots of advice: party games, how to resolve an argument, that kind of thing.”

“Huh.”

“Well,” said Tap, “he’s certainly enthusiastic.”

“Well, why shouldn’t we be?” asked Brother White. “It’s what we’re here to do, after all.” He decided to try his luck with ordering a drink again. “Sarsaparilla?”

“Nope.”

“Root beer float?”

“No.”

“Oh yeah, no milk,” Brother White said, feeling a little stupid for not remembering that. “Apple cider?”

“Cider?” asked Tap, almost relieved that he’d named something they had. “Sure thing.” She took a bottle from under the counter and placed it in front of him.

“Thanks,” said Brother White, opening it with magic. Eager to have some sort of relief, he lifted it to his mouth and- SPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

Tap narrowly avoided getting covered in that terrible mixture of drink and saliva.

“What is that?” asked Brother White.

“Hard cider,” she responded.

“Guess I get where the name comes from...” he tried drinking it a little more slowly. That helped.

“Hey, White, I think I’m doing good!” said Brother Scroll, sitting next to him. “They actually seem interested and one of them took the book!”

“Thanks,” said the colt in question, giving him the book back, “that was... interesting.” And he left the bar.

“Well, for a little while, anyway...” said Scroll. He watched as Brother White took another drink. “What is that?” he asked.

“Cider,” said Brother White.

“Hard cider, actually,” corrected Tap.

“Whatever that means...”

“Uhh...” Brother Scroll said, “is that... alcohol?”

“Yeah...” said Tap, as though it were obvious. She had to wonder - just how clueless were these two colts? It wasn’t like they were idiots or anything, but that lack of awareness was jarring.

“What’s that?” Brother White inquired, though only half-interested.

“It’s a thing in drinks that makes you, well...” Brother Scroll said, unsure, “we don’t have it in Equestria.”

“Guns, alcohol...” Brother White listed, “lack of cows... how do you know all this stuff?”

“I read,” said Brother Scroll, “that’s what my cutie mark means.” He smiled, pleased with himself. Tap put a bottle in front of him. “Huh?”

“On the house,” she said, “you two could use a little booze.”

“I don’t know...”

“It’s not that bad,” said Brother White, “once you get used to it.”

Scroll looked at Brother White. He did seem to be a little more chipper than he had been a few minutes ago...

Some time passed.

“Hey, fratboy!” shouted a colt. “Can you ponies sing where you’re from?”

“Can I sing?” asked Brother White, slurring his speech a little, “I’ll tell you somethin’, mister - I was the tenor section leader for three years straight, all while holding a 4.0 GPA. Lemme see if I can sing a...” he stumbled a little bit, almost dropping the bottle from his telekinetic grip, “an ode to this... this fine, fine drink of yours.”

He got up on a table, and began to sing.

“Let me drink in your wonderful nectar

Of this very particular kind

And I think I’ll thank my friend the lector

For his very astute kind of mind.”

Brother Scroll was just sitting at the counter. He hadn’t drank quite as much as Brother White, but he was still tipsy. He wasn’t joining in the festivities.

“Hey, you alright?” asked Tap. She was concerned - he seemed like a foal with the way he acted.

“Yeah...” said Brother Scroll. He giggled bashfully.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re purdy...” said Brother Scroll, a dopey expression plastered on his face.

Tap laughed, half at Scroll’s expression and half at the remark. She was used to receiving crass, drunken catcalls from her job. Looked like Scroll was going to fit right in.

“You wanna come upstairs?” she asked.

“Alright,” Scroll said through increasingly frantic fits of giggles. She left the counter and walked up stairs, while Scroll followed, swaying slightly as he walked.

“O never shall I recall sorrow

With a bottle beside me to stay

Without hope or a care for tomorrow

And the worries of life held at bay.”

She led him to a room with one musty bed, which Scroll sat on, still giggling.

“Funny?” Tap asked, smiling.

“Well, not really,” said Scroll, “not many ponies have been nice to us today.”

“Well, that’s not very fair,” she said, sitting next to him, “I’ll be nice to you.” She kissed him on the cheek, making him blush.

She leaned over, causing him to lean back, until he was lying down. He wasn’t giggling anymore.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“No...” Brother Scroll said, his breathing a bit heavier than before, “it’s just that, well...” his voice went very quiet, “this is my first time.”

“I know.”

___________

The next morning, White and Scroll found themselves back at the mission house. They weren’t in their beds, but just on the floor in the main room.

“Uggggghh...” White groaned as he got up off the floor, “my head...” he put his hoof to his head, and he found, oddly, that his tie was around his head and not his neck.

“What about my head?” Scroll asked. He looked at White. “Wow, you look...”

“What?” asked White, looking for a mirror. As there were none around, he had to head to the bathroom. He found that his mane was scraggly and he had a black eye.

“What happened?” asked Brother White, coming out of the watercloset.

“I dunno...” said Scroll, shrugging, “we were drinking, and...”

“You know what?” said Brother White, preparing to march out the door, “No more drinking. That stuff’s bad for us.” He opened the door and sunlight came pouring in. “Ah!” he said, shutting it. “My head...” he groaned.

“Maybe we should wait until a little bit later to start mission work?” Brother Scroll suggested.

There was a knock on the door. Brother White opened the door a crack, wondering who’d be interested in coming in. He saw a smiling earth pony who was disheveled in a manner similar to himself.

“Hello?” Brother White asked, opening the door a little wider.

“Hey,” said the earth pony, walking in, “thought I’d come by and see how you were doin’. Hope you don’t mind me inviting myself in, the sign on the door says welcome.”

“Umm...” said Brother White, blinking, trying to get his head clear, “yeah, yeah, that’s great, we’re just a little bit...”

“Yeah, I remember my first drink and my first fight,” said the stranger, drifting off into fond memories.

“Fight?” asked Brother White.

“Yup,” said the strange earth pony, “y’know, you proved me wrong about you horners. I always thought you guys were wusses, but, well... you kinda were a wuss, but you’re one crafty bastard, I tell ya. The way you got me with that chair from behind, while you were in front of me,” he laughed, feeling the back of his neck, “but I didn’t let you get all the blows. Forgive me for the black eye, eh?”

“Sure...” said Brother White, his head starting to clear, “pardon me if I don’t want a repeat performance.”

“Baaah, all’s in good fun, isn’t it?” he turned to Brother Scroll, “and you!”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Saw you goin’ up with Tap,” he raised his eyebrows, “lucky guy, you. How was it?”

“Wait, what?” asked Brother White, going straight back to ‘confused.’ Brother Scroll, however, was no longer confused. He remembered what happened the night before.

“Well?” asked the earth pony. Brother Scroll bolted out of the mission and tore down the street. He had to get back to the tavern.

“Brother Scroll, wait!” asked Brother White, feebly trying to follow him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t received the same shock to wake him up.

“So, about this book of yours...” said the earth pony, looking at the stack on the desk.

Brother Scroll had a little bit of difficulty finding the tavern, as most of the buildings looked the same, but when he got there, he was all out of breath. The tavern wasn’t as full as it had been - the earth ponies didn’t drink in the morning when there was work to be done, but Tap was there, cleaning the counter-top until she spotted the panting blue earth pony.

“Didn’t wait to get cleaned up to come back, didya?”

“Huh?” asked Brother Scroll, when he realized that his necktie was around his head. He sat down and frantically fiddled with his tie, trying to get it organized. It was a futile effort, more or less - that thing needed to be ironed before it was presentable again. “Well, it’s just...”

“I don’t just give out repeat performances, kid,” she said. Brother Scroll looked up.

“Well, no, I, uh...” Scroll fumbled, trying to find the words, “I just wanted to talk about it...”

“Talk?” asked Tap, sitting down, with a perplexed expression on her face, “you want to ‘talk’ about it? What’s there to talk about?”

“Well, what we did...”

“There’s nothing to say, kid,” she said, before softening her voice, “listen, you’re a cute kid and I thought you’d had a rough day. And I figured if you didn’t lose it now, you never would.”

“So...” Scroll said, his voice a little shaky, “it didn’t... m... mean anything?”

“Not really,” she said, “what, you didn’t like it?”

Brother Scroll’s posture sank. “It’s just...” he said very quietly, “that was my first... I... I...” He looked down at the floor.

“I wanted it to be special...” he said, almost whispering.

A couple of the handful of earth ponies looked at him. It was a rather pathetic scene.

Tap didn’t say anything. Never, in a hundred years, did she expect this. Degradation, of course, maybe some obscenities flung in her direction, but... that?

“Listen...” she said, leaving the counter. Her voice was very soft. “You have to learn sometimes, that nothing is special. Things just happen, and they don’t ‘mean’ anything.”

Scroll looked up. She could see that he was on the verge of tears.

“Th... that’s not true!” he said, choking on his words, “it has to mean something. That h-happened,” his voice deteriorated into barely coherent squeaking, “that meant something to me!”

“Scroll!” shouted a voice. Brother White burst through the door, “There you are! Are you...”

Brother Scroll sat on the floor, his mouth clamped tightly shut.

“What’s wrong?” White asked. Brother Scroll just shook his head, unable to speak. White looked at Tap, and the two shared an expression of confusion.

“C’mon, Scroll,” said White quietly, helping him get up, “it’s okay, it’s okay... we’ve got some work to do.” Brother Scroll nodded, making a sniffing noise, and they left the tavern.

Tap stood there, still feeling confused and about what had just happened. She was snapped out of it by a leery comment from one of the bar patrons. “How come ya never gave me a freebie?”

“Because you can just fuck yourself.”

---

Chapter 4

“So he took a book,” said Brother White, combing his hair in the bathroom. Next to the faucet he had a cold pack which would place on his black eye once he was done with his hair. “Seems like an okay guy. I just hope I don’t need to do any more bar fights, because I’m not setting foot in a bar ever again. Now I know why we don’t have that stuff in Equestria.”

“Yeah...”

Brother White looked out of the bathroom. Brother Scroll was sitting down, sulking. “Oh, don’t be so sad,” he said, exiting the lavatory, “look, we had a rough day yesterday, but things are only going to get better.”

“Two ponies died...” said Scroll sadly, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this...”

“To be honest...” said Brother White, sighing, “sometimes I feel the same way.”

“Huh?” asked Brother Scroll, looking up, “how can you feel like that? You’re good at everything. You’re charismatic, charming, handsome, you’ve got an amazing singing voice... You’re like the top banana here.”

“Nooo, not me,” said Brother White, laughing, “I’m no Top Banana. Now, he was someone who-” he cut himself off. Had to stay with what he was trying to say. “Look, that’s not important. The important thing is that Celestia sent us here to do a job, and we’re gonna do it.”

“But how am I gonna do it?” asked Brother Scroll.

Brother White looked at him. The poor guy seemed to have just about given up. He thought back to when he was starting school and he felt like the new guy - terrified, feeling lower than everypony else. Except Brother Scroll had not only that, but the reinforcement of that comes from having bullies steal your lunch money on a regular basis. But he knew that Brother Scroll wasn’t as worthless as he saw himself. If only he could see that himself.

“You’ll learn,” said Brother White, “I have nothing but confidence in you. You’re gonna do great. Now come on!” he said, bolting up and taking books from the desk, placing them in a wheelbarrow, “we’re late today! Got a lot of friends to make and half the day is already gone. Now, we’ve already got one new friend (I hope I don’t need to get another black eye) and we have to make a lot more. Now let’s get to it! Giddy-up!”

Brother Scroll was tasked with pulling the wheelbarrow, while Brother White waved a book in front of him, shouting, “Come one, come all! We’ve got the most amazing book you will ever read! We guarantee you that this book will change your life!”

They were largely ignored, save for a few annoyed glances. Brother Scroll looked at the town some more as they passed through. Everything was made out of wood, which meant...

“I think there’s a forest on this island,” he said.

“Really?” asked Brother White.

“Yeah. Probably a big one,” said Brother Scroll, “they don’t seem to import a lot of things, so if there’s this much wood, it must come from a forest. They probably cultivate it - being earth ponies, after all.”

“That’s incredible,” said Brother White, “really, that’s incredible. Sometimes I’m really astounded by what earth ponies can do - like in Apple-oosa. They grew an apple orchard in the middle of the desert. I mean, how cool is that?” he stopped and took a deep breath. “I think I like this town.”

“I don’t think it likes you,” said Brother Scroll.

“Oh, pah,” he said, “putting aside the racism and the occasional dirt, there’s something very appealing. I mean, all these wooden buildings - it’s like it all shares a theme. Again, like in Apple-oosa! No gimmicks, no ice cream cone houses or tree houses (or houses that are trees)... all very simple. It’s very old-timey and, and, and...” he was searching for a word.

“Rustic?” suggested Brother Scroll.

“Yeah! Rustic!” said Brother White, turning around, “I mean, it’s not like what we’ve got most places in Equestria, and just take in the smell... rustic.”

There was a splashing sound. “Smells more like... egh...” said Brother Scroll, looking around. When he looked back at Brother White, he found that the unicorn was dripping wet. A window shut above him. “Oh hey, they still use chamber pots... oh...”

“Rustic...” repeated Brother White, a little less enthusiastically.

“Hey, horner!” shouted a passer-by, “things seem a little piss-poor!”

“But you’re still number one!” jeered his friend.

“Well...” said Brother White, “at least that time the jeers were less about my race than the...” he took a breath, “funny. This situation is funny. Right? It’s perfectly fine to laugh.”

“I dunno...” said Brother Scroll.

From Brother White’s perspective, this called for another shower. He was rather thankful that he hadn’t taken one at the start of the day due to the hangover confusion, but that’d mean two showers in the space of a few hours, which would have been an embarrassing waste of water.

Still, a shower at this point was a relief. White always liked it - he was completely alone, with only the constant sound of the running water as it purged the stank from his body. The mission house’s bathroom wasn’t as clean as he’d hoped it’d be, but he didn’t want to complain about small things like that. At the moment it was just a relief. That is, until Brother Scroll interrupted him.

“Uhh, White, I’m not sure that’s a good idea!” he shouted.

Brother White sighed and turned off the water. “What?” he called back.

“Wasting water, I mean,” said Brother Scroll. Brother White exited the bathroom, drying himself off with a towel, “I mean, remember yesterday when General Quake shut off our water?”

“Yeah?” Brother White asked, “But how can there be a shortage of water?”

“Well, think about it,” said Brother Scroll, “in Equestria, it’s not really that much of a problem because the pegasus ponies usually take care of the rain, but here...”

“But here...” Brother White got it, “they don’t have pegasus ponies... Oh dear.”

“Yeah...” said Brother Scroll.

“But...” said Brother White, “hygiene is important. If I don’t bathe I’ll start smelling bad and stuff and nopony will want to be around me and there will probably start being bugs...”

“I think that last part already happened.”

Brother White took a deep breath. “Okay, I think I can handle this. Just... let’s avoid standing under windows this time. Ready?”

________

They began their second attempt of the day, this time with less chamber pots. Brother White, however, would not give up. He’d gotten one convert... sorta. He took a book, anyway. That had to count for something. But the converts weren’t the important part for him. These ponies needed help. In one day in one town on Earthquake Island he’d encountered more callous brutality than in his entire life in Equestria. He and Scroll could help them, he knew they could. It’s just that the ponies didn’t care. The important thing was the keep trying, and not lose hope. They had to be capable of doing this, otherwise why would they have been sent here?

While he wasn’t still crying about losing his virginity, Scroll wasn’t feeling very confident, himself. He didn’t know if he had it in him to teach the ponies about friendship - what could he teach? He’d never had a friend before Brother White. And Scroll wondered if he was fit to try doing something like this? Scroll, the sad little dweeb with glasses who had about as much presence as a brightly-colored teacup?

He had to try something. “Hello,” he said, walking up to the first pony he saw, “my name is Brother Scroll. And I would like to share with you the most amazing book.”

“Huh?” asked the pony, turning around. He was a large stallion, bright green in coloration. On either side he was flanked by two of his friends.

“It’s a very good book,” said Brother Scroll, nodding his head at the wheelbarrow, “the foundation of our organization, the Fraternity.”

“C’mon, man, they’re just the missionary fruits,” said one of the green pony’s friends, “we don’t need to listen...”

“No, you two go on ahead. I’ll catch up later,” said the pony. “What’s it about?”

“The magic of friendship!”

The green pony narrowed his eyes. “Magic?” he asked dubiously.

“Well, not very many ponies know of the magic of friendship,” said Brother Scroll. He looked over at Brother White, who gave him an encouraging nod, “but it’s a magic the same as any.”

“Isn’t magic the stuff that the horners use?”

“Well, actually, y’see, that’s a bit of a misconception,” said Brother Scroll, straightening his spectacles, “a lot of ponies think it’s just the unicorns that have magic, but unicorns just have a different kind of magic. Pegasus ponies and earth ponies have their own magic, too, it’s just not as... sparkly.”

Brother White watched, and he realized - Brother Scroll was really smart. He didn’t know how he could have any kind of doubt in himself. After all, Brother Scroll had actually done research before coming on the mission. If anything, Scroll was more prepared than he was.

“And friendship is its own kind of magic, just kinda different,” continued Scroll, “and if you read this book, you’ll learn all about it.”

“What kind of magic?”

“Well,” Brother Scroll said, “during the Long Night, Twilight Sparkle and her friends harnessed the power of the Elements of Harmony and defeated the evil Nightmare Moon, and restored Princess Luna and... and...” he stopped, seeing the pony’s uninterested expression.

“What we mean, sir,” said Brother White, coming to his friend’s aid, “is that we think that you could really use the information in this book.”

“Based on what, exactly?” asked the green pony, “Why do you think we need it?”

“Well, uh...” Brother White swallowed, “we think that your, uh, your town here-”

“Whole island, kinda-”

“Island, yeah,” said Brother White, taking the cue, “that the ponies here have problems and could really stand to learn about the magic of friendship. It’d really help to improve your lives.”

The green pony had run out of patience, “I don’t need some over-privileged horner faggot telling me that I’ve got problems that he can solve.”

“Well, th-that...” Brother Scroll stammered. The green pony looked at him, a condescending eyebrow raised. “Thatthatthatthatthat... that...” Brother Scroll spat out, “is the problem we were talking about.”

“What is?”

“The racism,” Brother Scroll said, “you shouldn’t be calling my friend a ‘horner faggot.’ You don’t even know him. I don’t think you even know any unicorns...”

“I know horners,” snorted the green pony, “I know they come here in their flying castle and rain destruction on our town. You want me to make ‘friends’ with them? No. And you know something else? I’ve fought against ponies like your friend, and they’re all the same - smug little fags with spines like twigs. And your friend is no different.”

“Don’t talk about my friend that way!” said Brother Scroll, his heart beating faster and his rate of breath increasing.

“It’s okay, Scroll,” said Brother White, trying to calm him, “he doesn’t know any better.”

“Shut up,” said the green pony, “fuck you, fuck your horner friend. For that matter, why don’t you two just go back where you came from? I’m sure you can do plenty of fucking there.”

“Hey, we can’t hold up forever!” shouted one of the green pony’s friends.

“I was just leaving...” said the green pony, turning and walking away.

Brother Scroll just stood there, his brow furrowed, shaking, his breathing staggered. “It’s okay...” said Brother White, nuzzling his shoulder, “you’re doing fine...”

“Well... well...” Brother Scroll stammered, “FUCK YOU!”

The green pony and his friends stopped and slowly turned around. Brother Scroll took a step back as the green pony’s eyes locked his.

“Excuse me?” asked the green pony, snorting, his eyes narrowed.

Brother Scroll looked at Brother White, whose expression was completely blank. He looked back at the green pony. “...yeah,” he said, taking a deep breath, “Fuck you...” a smile grew on his face, and he stood up a little straighter and taller. “Fuck you. Fuck you in the ass. Fuck you in the ass. Fuck you in the ass.” The green pony and his friends began to walk up to him, very slowly, but Brother Scroll wasn’t stopping, he was on a roll. “Fuck you in the ass! And then shit it all out into a sock, and then stuff! It! RIGHT back up there again!”

By this point, the green pony was standing there right in front of him, looking down at him.

“...cunt,” finished Brother Scroll quietly, looking at Brother White. The other four ponies followed Scroll’s gaze and all four were looking at the only unicorn on the entire island. The unicorn looked at Scroll, then to the other earth ponies, and then back to Scroll, before finally returning to the intimidating trio.

“Yeah, what he said,” confirmed the unicorn.

By the time Scroll looked back at the green earth pony, he found himself on the ground and in pain. Brother White saw the pony stand on his hind legs and then beat Scroll on the nose with a kick.

“Hey!” Brother White shouted, running in front of the now-floored Brother Scroll, “you’re not doing that to him!”

“Fine by us!” said the green earth pony, as his friends seized Brother White by his front legs and restrained him (“hey!” shouted Brother White). The green pony stood in front of Brother White, and then turned around.

“What’re you...”

THUD!

“Ghh...” Brother White wheezed, as the green bony bucked him, knocking the wind out of him. This was followed by another buck, and another, each one more painful than the last. Brother White could feel as though his ribs were on fire - they’d crack before long.

Brother Scroll, meanwhile, had recovered. The three ponies weren’t paying attention to him - they were all facing away. He looked around, had to act fast. He saw a large crate. That’d have to do. Pulling himself off of the ground, he grabbed the crate in his front hooves, and swung it, catching one of the ponies who was restraining him off-guard. He collapsed with a startled grunt, and Brother Scroll grabbed Brother White, pulling his captor into the way of the green pony’s buck, causing him to finally relinquish his grip.

“Agh! You asshole!” shouted the pony who had just been kicked in the face, both to the missionaries and his green friend.

Brother Scroll, demonstrating a remarkable bit of earth pony strength, tossed Brother White into the wheelbarrow, and while the other three were still recovering, grabbed the wheelbarrow with his front legs and ran on his hind-legs, pushing the wheelbarrow through the town as fast as he possibly could.

“How’d you learn to talk like that?” shouted Brother White.

“I read!” responded Brother Scroll, looking over his shoulder at the three earth ponies who had now given chase, “I know they’re bad words and I’m not supposed to-”

“Fruit stand.”

“Huh?” asked Brother Scroll, not looking in front.

“FRUUUUUIT STAAAAAAAAAAAND!”

Brother Scroll looked ahead, but not before he felt a crash, and an array of apples, oranges, bananas, and everything in-between cascaded around them, along with surprisingly flimsy wood, all of which ended up stuck in their manes.

“Heeeey!” shouted the owner of the fruit stand as the two continued to careen away.

“Tough break, man,” said an earth pony.

“Yeah,” agreed another, who was currently working with the other to carry a large pane of glass. They found themselves no longer carrying the pane of glass, as it had shattered due to three earth ponies charging through it.

“Aww, fuck!” shouted one of them, holding his hoof, “fucking thing cut me!”

“Nevermind that, keep running!” shouted the green one.

“Naw, man, can’t do it, fuck it, we know where they live.”

“You’re gonna need to pay for that, y’know...” said the (much more polite) earth pony who now had to explain to his boss why a pane of glass hadn’t been installed.

“You can stay here and suck your hoof if you want, but I’m running!” shouted the green one, taking off after the missionaries, with his able-bodied friend following.

“We’re gonna have to pay for that!” shouted Brother White.

“Nevermind that, they’re still coming!” shouted Brother Scroll, looking at the two ponies in pursuit. He looked back ahead. It seemed as though the road was starting to slope downward. “Hold on!”

“Huh? What’re you-” But Brother Scroll had jumped into the wheelbarrow. He scrambled towards the front and tried to get a hold on the handle, as the wheelbarrow accelerated down the hill.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Both of the Brothers shouted in unison, as Brother White threw his front legs around Brother Scroll, who was holding the handle of the wheelbarrow so tightly it was starting to bend. He turned it to steer out of the way of a blissfully unaware pedestrian, but in his fright he moved it too far, causing a very rough turn. The wheelbarrow leaned on its wheels as more books tumbled out, and Brother Scroll steered it the other way to try to stabilize it, and it was only luck that kept them from crashing.

Brother White, meanwhile, saw an opportunity.

One pony was stepping outside of his carpentry shop when he spotted the two blazing down the road in the wheelbarrow. He barely managed to duck as a book whizzed past his head.

“Pleasereadourboooooooooooo...” shouted Brother White as they passed by.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” asked Brother Scroll.

“We’ll get publicity now!” shouted Brother White, not quite understanding how publicity worked. He looked back and saw that the two ponies were still in pursuit. He regretted what had happened - they’d gotten off on the wrong hoof. Maybe, just maybe, he thought. “We’re really sorry!” he said, using his unicorn magic to hold up a book, “but if you’ll just read this-” he threw it at them.

“I-” the green pony’s friend opened his mouth to speak, but the book hit him in the mouth, corner-in. He stopped and backed up, gagging on the book, like he was going to cough up a lung. Sitting down, he managed to grab it with his hooves and pull it out, still hacking and wheezing. He shook an angry hoof at the two missionaries as they left, not having enough air to yell.

White continued pitching books left and right, occasionally cringing as he heard the sound of something breaking.

Brother Scroll turned his neck to look behind, seeing that the green pony was still in hot pursuit.

“How can they run that long?” asked Brother White.

“We’re earth ponies, we last long!” answered Brother Scroll.

“Scroll, keep your eyes ahead!”

“Huh?” Scroll looked in front. They were heading right for a building and there was no way to miss it. “AAAAH!” he threw his forelegs around Brother White, too, and Brother White started screaming as well.

CRASH!

It could have been worse. Miraculously, they managed to hit the door rather than the wall. The door was reduced to splinters, and the two came tumbling into the room. Brother Scroll was flung further in, and his glasses further still.

“Uuuuuuu...” he groaned. He looked up, and he saw a familiar cream-colored pony looking down at him.

“Back again?” Tap asked. They had crashed into the tavern.

“Helloo... My name is Brother Scroll, and I’ll trade you a book for my glasses...” he said, disoriented.

Brother White was also lying on the floor, and he was laughing incoherently, like he’d been told a hilarious joke and hit on the head at the same time.

“Alright, where are the fruity little bastards?” asked the green stallion, walking in alone. “There you are!”

“You two have got to be the worst missionaries ever,” muttered Tap.

“It’s not easy...” groaned Brother White, getting up. He looked at the green pony, “so, how’d you like our book?”

“I liked it a lot,” said the green pony sarcastically, “so much I’m gonna take it and shove it up your ass!”

“Sounds painful...” said Brother White.

Brother Scroll now realized what was going on, and he scrambled to get up. “Look, look man, we’re sorry!” he said frantically, “I didn’t mean anything what I said, about the sock or, or...”

“Spines like twigs,” sneered the green earth pony, “both of you.”

“I think he’s got more of a spine than you,” said Brother White.

“I don’t think I asked for-” but the green earth pony wasn’t able to finish. His mouth seemed to have been forced shut. “Nng!”

Brother White glared at him, his horn glowing, “No, listen to me, because I’m talking,” he said. The earth pony, now realizing that he was under that mysterious “unicorn magic” that he hated so much, backed down.

“I think my friend has more of a spine than you. He stood up to you and your buddies. He stood up to the General, even though he’s scared of all of you. He came here, even though he’s scared of all of you, to help you. And you know something? That’s what real courage is about. Not cussing with a tough guy attitude. I’ll tell you this, if I could only have one other friend in the whole world, I’d have him.” His horn stopped glowing, and the green pony gasped for air. “You got that?”

Tap walked up next to the green pony. “I think you should leave.”

The green pony snorted. “We know where you’re staying, you two faggots!” he said, walking out the door, “We’ll see who fucks who!”

Scroll looked up at White. “Did you... did you really mean that?” he asked.

Brother White smiled at him, “Every word.”

Scroll blushed, looking down at the floor. “Thanks...”

“Hey, don’t act so surprised,” said Brother White, laughing, “I’ve told you from the start: I believe in you. You’re gonna do great. So...” he turned to Tap, picking up one of the books and holding it in front of her, “how’d you like to be Sister Tap?”

“You two really are the worst missionaries ever,” said Tap, “you’re nice colts, though. This place might be better if more were like you. But then, what’d we do when General Storm or General Monarch comes? Can’t exactly just made friends with them.” Spotting Scroll’s glasses, she walked over and picked them up in her mouth. She walked back over to Scroll and placed the glasses onto his face. Scroll blushed, and stammered something about needing to get them cleaned, before walking into the bathroom.

“Poor guy,” she said, “he’s kinda cute with his glasses off, though.”

“Yeah, he is,” agreed Brother White. She gave him a funny look. “What? And what do you mean... more generals?”

“They lead the pegasus ponies and the unicorn ponies.”

“Where are they?” asked Brother White, “we can-”

“They’re not on the island,” said Tap, “they’re flying around somewhere over the ocean.”

“Wait... flying?” asked Brother White, “I imagine that the pegasus ponies have some sort of cloud things, but the unicorns...”

“They built it,” said Tap, “they built a giant, flying fortress.”

“Not surprising,” said Brother Scroll, coming out of the bathroom, “unicorns have always been the inventors - like the fridge. That was invented by unicorns.”

“Fridge?” asked Tap, “What’s that?”

“Keeps things cold,” said Brother White, “we’ve got one at the mission house if you’d like to see.”

“Maybe later,” said Tap, “you broke a door, and I have to fix it.”

“We’re really sorry about that, really,” said Brother White, “we can help.”

“No, really, it’s best if I take care of it myself,” said Tap, inspecting the ruined door, “it’s how I always do things.”

“That’s not how you should,” said Brother White, “we have a better way.”

“More friendship stuff?” asked Tap.

“Yes,” said Brother White, picking the book up again, “now, uhh, where is it...” he flipped through.

“Here,” said Brother Scroll, taking the book and flipping to the correct page, “Dear Princess Celestia, my friend Applejack is the best friend a pony could ever have. She’s always there to help anypony. The only trouble is, when she needs help, she finds it hard to accept it. So while friendship is about giving of ourselves to friends, it’s also about accepting what our friends have to offer. Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.” He closed the book, a smile on his face.

“So that’s what your book is about? Letters?” asked Tap.

“Well, there’s the letters, but there’s also stuff - like party tips!” said Brother Scroll, grinning excitedly.

“Maybe later,” said Tap, clearing away the fragments of wood, “you two should leave now - I need to clean up this mess. Just carry on with your... friend-mission.”

“Okay...” said Brother Scroll, walking out slowly.

“You know, you’re free to come to our mission house anytime you like,” said Brother White, before he left. “The door is always open. And you can see our fridge!”

Tap watched as the two missionary ponies left her house. Brother White was carrying on, shouting about how his book would change everypony’s life.

He was standing beneath another window. The window opened, and a pony absentmindedly emptied a chamber pot.

---

Chapter 5

“White?”

“Yeah, Scroll?”

“I’m sorry.”

Brother White was silent for a minute. “Sorry?”

“Yeah,” said Brother Scroll from his bottom bunk, “about the mess I got us into. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“That’s okay,” reassured Brother White from the top bunk. Brother Scroll took the bottom bunk because he was afraid of heights. “We all make mistakes. After all, we’re only pony.”

“I just thought...” said Brother Scroll, “this place is scary. The ponies here act so... so mean, and even when they aren’t mean, well...” his voice trailed off, “it’s like, I wanted to show that I could be as tough as they could, and well, that stuff, it just sorta came out of my mouth...”

“It’s okay, Scroll,” said Brother White, who really just wanted to get some sleep.

“I just don’t know what we can do,” said Brother Scroll, “I don’t know if we can reach them. They hate us.”

“Nah,” said Brother White, “just me. But they’ll see.”

“I don’t think they like me any more than you,” said Brother Scroll, “they called me a fag, too.” He sighed, “How can we make friends with them if they don’t want to be friends?”

“Aw, don’t think that way-”

“How can we win when there’s so much hate?”

Brother White was quiet for a minute. “We just have to keep trying. Remember the story of the buffalo and the settlers in Apple-oosa? How they were enemies until Twilight Sparkle showed them the magic of friendship? We can do that too.”

“Aaaaactually, Twilight Sparkle didn’t really do anything there...” Brother Scroll corrected him.

“Huh?”

“Well, y’see, the buffalo and the settler ponies did it all on their own. It isn’t important what Twilight Sparkle did as it is what she learned.”

“Well... maybe we need to learn something?” suggested Brother White.

“Learn what?” asked Brother Scroll, “This isn’t a very fun lesson.”

“Well, we’ll see...”

“If we don’t get lynched first.”

“We’re not going to get lynched, Scroll,” said Brother White, laughing. Me, maybe, but... “Look,” he continued, “let’s get some sleep, and tomorrow we’ll start anew.”

“Okay,” said Brother Scroll, “good night, friend.”

“Good night, buddy.”

___________

“So...” said Brother White over breakfast, “water shortage?”

“Uh-huh,” said Brother Scroll, talking through his eggs.

The kitchen in the mission house was, by most Equestrian standards, modest. It was small, with a table, a stove, a counter, an oven, a sink, and a refrigerator. All of this was put into a small space.

“How am I going to keep clean and stuff?”

“Well, there are lots of ways to save water,” said Scroll, swallowing, “like when you brush your teeth, don’t leave the water on. Or when you shower, don’t leave the water running the whole time. You just turn it on, get wet, do the soap and shampoo and stuff, turn it back on to rinse it off, and then done.”

“Huh...” said Brother White, “that’ll be hard.”

“Well, I dunno,” said Scroll, shrugging, “you could also try the ocean. Showering with a partner also saves water.”

“Huh,” said Brother White, “well, I guess we can try those.”

“So, what are we doing today?” asked Brother Scroll, “More door-to-door stuff?”

“I dunno,” said Brother White, “why don’t we just go out today and meet some ponies? No books, no badges, no neckties, no nothing like that, just go out on the town. Just have some fun.”

He cheerfully made his way out of the kitchen and into the main room of the mission house, up to the door...

And then he ducked out of the way, shutting the doors with his magic.

BANG!BANG!

Two holes were blown in the door, as Brother White huddled off to the side. “Okay...” he said, breathing heavily, “I’ll have to wear the nametag.”

Brother White and Brother Scroll waited for a while, to make sure that the attempted murderer had gotten bored. After that, they stepped out (Brother White having made sure that his badge was at its absolute shiniest) and began their walk. Their walk did not last long.

“Spare change for a poor, blind old bastard?” asked a haggard voice. It was an old earth pony, his eyes apparently lost in the sags of his face, a cup with a scant few coins in front of him, “C’mon, I know you got some.”

“Why are you sitting out here?” asked Brother White, wondering why someone would just be sitting out in the street outside the mission house in the morning like this.

“Well, it’s as good a place to sit as any, heheHAKH!” the old pony laughed before hacking a cough.

Brother White and Brother Scroll exchanged an uneasy glance. Brother White turned to the old beggar. “Hi,” he said, “my name is Brother White. I’m with the Fraternity, and you happen to be sitting outside our mission.”

The beggar grunted. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll get outta yer way...” He began standing up.

“You misunderstand us, sir,” said Brother White, “we-”

“‘Sir?’” asked the beggar, reaching a hoof behind his neck to scratch, “That’s funny. Can’t remember the last time a pony called me that. What’d you say your name was?”

“Brother White, sir,” responded the unicorn, “and this is my partner, Brother Scroll.”

“Ah...” said the beggar.

“Anyway,” said Brother White, “you’re right outside our mission. You can come in if you like.”

Brother Scroll blinked, and Brother White continued. “It’ll be better for you. We’ve got food and bedding and stuff. Scroll, help him up.”

Scroll didn’t object. He decided he’d just let Brother White do whatever it was he was thinking, though he did feel a little uncomfortable with the whole thing. He wasn’t quite sure why. Still, he did as White said. Supporting the old stallion was, however, awkward. Gave him a bit of a worry - he imagined he’d be needing to do a lot of this “helping little old mares cross the street” business throughout his career.

“Thank ye,” said the old stallion.

“Don’t mention it...” mumbled Brother Scroll.

It became apparent that “fun day on the town” would not be on the table. Instead, Brother White went about preparing the mission house for their sudden guest, and he seemed very cheerful about it, opening a can of soup and pouring it into a pot on the stove. Scroll, meanwhile, set the stallion in a chair before joining White in the kitchen.

“This is great, isn’t it?” asked Brother White, stirring the pot, “We get to really, directly help somepony. And no chamber pots!”

“Uhh, yeah, it’s great,” said Brother Scroll, nodding, “was kinda surprising.”

“I know!” said Brother White, “I remember doing bake sales in school. Those were always fun, raising money for the choir. I mean, this is what missions are about. You know, some missionaries get sent to vacation places that are full of rich snobs and the like who are too up with themselves to care much about friendship. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but here, places like this, this is where you really have to, to... to dig in and start helping out and stuff.” He took a deep breath. “Man, I feel good.”

“Umm...” said Brother Scroll.

“What?” asked Brother White, “Something wrong?”

“Well, I was just wondering...” said Brother Scroll, “so, this guy’s gonna be staying here.”

“Of course.”

“And spending the night?”

“You bet.”

“Well...” Brother Scroll said uneasily, fidgeting with his front hooves, “we only have one bunk bed.”

Brother White stopped stirring.

___________

“I’m afraid of heights.” Brother Scroll was in the top bunk. So was Brother White. There was a soft snoring sound from the bed below. “That’s why I took the bottom one.”

“Ah,” said Brother White, who was having a little difficulty moving, because Brother Scroll had his legs wrapped around him, “well, if this thing falls down, I think he is going to have it a lot worse than us.”

Brother Scroll loosened his grip. “Sorry,” he said, “I’m just a bit of a worry-wart, I guess. It’s funny, last time I was in bed with somepony...”

He was about to say ‘was when I was a little colt and got scared of nightmares and walked to mom and dad’s bedroom,’ but then he remembered. Brother White could feel how awkward it was.

“You okay?” he asked, “About... that whole thing?”

“I guess,” Scroll said, shrugging, “it’s just that, well... how was your first time?”

“My...?” Brother White asked. “Well...” he whispered awkwardly, “I’m still a virgin.”

There was a magnificent silence as Brother Scroll basked in the stupefying fact that he’d lost his virginity first. Brother White took advantage of the silence to change the subject.

“We should probably write a letter back to the Fraternity,” said White, sitting up, “tell them what’s happened. Like that thing with Brother Sky and Brother Shine. We could also send a request for some extra food and bedding and stuff.” He started rubbing his hooves together. “We’re gonna get really started here!”

A very loud snore from below made them jump.

“...First thing in the morning.”

__________

Brother White was sitting at his desk, writing a letter with a quill.

...Brother Sky and Brother Shine were not here to receive us upon arrival. They seem to have vanished. The general claims that they left to join the group of pegasus ponies and unicorn ponies - I assume Sky with the pegasus ponies and Shine with the unicorn ponies. All in all, the mission is going...

He paused.

...well. Brother Scroll has...

He paused again.

...already made a new friend. Although new to the Fraternity, he’s shown himself to be a true Brother, and I’m proud to have him as my partner.

That is not to say that everything is pinkie keen. If there was ever a place in need of the magic of friendship, it’s Earthquake Island, and there are a lot of ponies and not a lot of missionaries. We need everything we can get if we’re going to help these ponies. To that end, we would like to request additional supplies: books, food, blankets, and especially bedding.

Signed,

Brother White

“Uhh, White?” asked Brother Scroll, poking his head out of the bunk room.

“Huh?” asked Brother White, looking up from the desk.

“The guy’s still asleep,” said Scroll, “aaaand... isn’t it a bit late to be sleeping in?”

“I don’t see why,” mused White, putting the letter in an envelope, “this is probably the first time he’s been in a bed instead of on the concrete. By the way, you think you could take this letter down to the dock before the boat leaves?”

“I think I should be able to...”

“Wonderful!” said White, stuffing the letter into Scroll’s mouth, “I’ll see how our guest is doing.”

“Moh-hay,” mumbled Brother Scroll, walking out the door. After he left, Brother White was sure to close the door. He found himself wishing that he’d asked for new doors. Ah, well, can’t always get what you want, he reasoned. He decided to check up on their old guest, who was still lying in the bottom bunk.

“Mmm...” he groaned.

“Hello,” whispered Brother White, “you sleep well last night?”

“Not really,” said the old stallion, “was hard to sleep through your pilla talk.”

“Oh,” said Brother White, “sorry about that. Scroll gets worried about things. He’s new.”

“Ah.”

“Would you like breakfast or...”

“No, I don’t think so,” said the old stallion, “don’t know what good it’d do me. I think I’m dyin’. But if ya got some gin that’d be fine, though.”

“Gin?” asked Brother White. He didn’t know what that was. “I dunno... I’ll see about that.” He walked out of the room as the old stallion hacked another cough.

“Just managed to get the boat!” panted Brother Scroll, walking back into the mission house.

“Good, good, umm...” said Brother White, walking back into the main room. “Gin.”

“Gin?” asked Scroll, “What about it?”

“You know what it is?”

“I think it’s another one of those umm... those drinks.”

“Ah,” said Brother White. That explained why he hadn’t heard of it. “Well, think you could run down to the tavern and get some?”

“What? Why?”

“Our guest wants some,” said White, “and I think we should oblige.”

“Well, if you say so,” said Brother Scroll.

“Good. That’d be wonderful,” said White, turning back to the guest, “so, everything okay?”

“Well,” said the old stallion, “I’m blind, and I have maggots in my scrotum, but aside from that... no.”

White’s ears drooped.

“Never had anyone to bother me for a while, though. Wife died. Son got killed by the wingers. After that, nopony had any use for an old washed-up stallion like me. Except you, for some reason. Why?”

“I just wanted to help...”

“Peh,” said the stallion, “wanted to feel good about yourself, more like. Taking time out of your busy schedule to help little old me...”

“Well, that actually kinda is my busy schedule...”

“What, so you can call yourself a ‘good guy?’ That it?”

“Well,” said Brother White, trying to find the right words to say, “is it wrong for me to want that?”

“Eh...” said the stallion, “I don’t see why you bother. I’m dyin’, y’know. Been dyin’ for a while, and you actin’ all nice isn’t gonna change that.”

“I can’t really do anything else,” said Brother White, “listen... I’ve had a pretty good life so far, and other ponies... haven’t.”

“Oh, you just noticed now?”

“All I’ve ever wanted to see is smiles,” said Brother White, “that’s my cutie mark. You can’t see it, but it’s a smile. I’m normally a pretty happy pony, and... and I’d just like others to be happy. That’s what I want to see.”

“But you don’t see that.”

“No...”

“Then tell me, what have ya seen here?”

“Well...” said White, thinking back on the last few days, “when we got here we saw a pegasus pony get murdered. Then we got threatened by the general...”

“Asshole, ain’t he?”

“Kinda. Then we tried going door to door, and that didn’t work. Then we saw a pony get lynched... Then we got drunk and I got a black eye and Scroll lost his virginity. Then we felt bad in the morning and Scroll got upset. Then we went out and I got doused in... in pee. Twice.” The stallion gave a weak chuckle. White couldn’t help but smile at his own folly. Like he said the other day... it was funny. “And then we got into another fight. And then today somepony tried to shoot me. They, uh... they don’t like me. They don’t like unicorns here, obviously.”

“Waitaminute...” said the stallion, slowly sitting up, “you’ve been a... a horner all this time?”

“Yeah.” Brother White’s voice didn’t betray any sort of shock or indignation.

“Sonuva... ach!” the stallion coughed again, “Eh. I don’t have any fight left in me now. But that just goes to my point. Everypony here hates you, why are you here?”

“Maybe because everypony hates me,” Brother White shrugged, “I was assigned a mission. I’m going to do that. What else can I do?”

“You could go home,” said the stallion, “you and your boyfriend. Then you wouldn’t have to have your... your ‘guilt’ or whatever at us not meeting your standards and we wouldn’t have to be annoyed by your prancing.”

Brother White was silent for a minute. “I can’t do that,” he finally said. “I refuse to believe it.”

“Well, thanks for the soup, at least.”

___________

Brother Scroll returned to the mission house with the bottle of gin in his mouth. As he hadn’t been saying anything on the errand, he didn’t encounter any trouble. By himself, he was not a very noticeable pony, despite the bright red necktie. He stopped at the door. Those holes made him feel uncomfortable - what if there was a draft or something? That’d be awful.

He opened the door, knocking on it as he did so. There was no response. He would’ve called out from White, but there was a bottle in his mouth that prevented him from doing that. He slowly walked over to the door of the bunk room and peered in. White was right where he’d been when he left, slouched over the bed. Scroll gently placed the bottle of gin on the floor.

“White?” he asked quietly.

Brother White didn’t turn to look at him. “He’s dead.”

____________

It took several hours for somepony to come take the body. Brother White, meanwhile, sat on the curb in front of the mission (this time wearing his badge, so he didn’t get shot). He didn’t say anything, but just looked out, surveying the dilapidated town. Scroll quietly walked up behind him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” said White, “I’m always okay. Besides, there wasn’t really anything we could do. He was dying before we even invited him in. We made him a little more comfortable before he died, so... at least he liked the soup.”

“For what it’s worth,” said Brother Scroll, sitting down next to him, “I think you did the right thing.”

“Thanks,” said White, still surveying the town. One thing stood out that caught his eye - it was a little pink colt wearing some bizarre harness with saddlebags that were a bit bigger than an earth pony his age should be carrying. The little colt seemed to be collecting garbage and putting them into the saddlebags, and he moved very slowly.

“Hey!” called out White. The colt didn’t respond. “You there! With the garbage!” The pink colt looked up at him.

“Me, sir?”

“Yeah, you,” said Brother White, “what are you doing?”

“Collecting trash, sir...” the colt said. He walked up closer, staring at Brother White’s horn.

“What’s your name?”

“They call me Clip, sir...” he responded.

Scroll looked at the colt, then at White, and then back at the colt.

“You’ve never seen a unicorn before?” asked Scroll.

“No, sir,” said Clip.

“Only when they attack, I’ll bet...” muttered White. “Clip, why are you out collecting garbage?”

“Well, I kinda have to,” said the colt, lowering his head, “it’s kinda my job... I have to get back to doing that.”

“Well, Clip, before you go, I want you to know,” said White, “that our mission’s doors are always open. You can come in here anytime you want, and bring your friends, too.”

“I don’t have any friends, sir...” said Clip, slowly shuffling away. Brother White opened his mouth to speak again, but he was interrupted.

“Times like these, it’s the best job there is,” said an earth pony, emerging from the door, a shovel for a cutie mark, “there’s good money to be made as a gravedigger when there’s plenty of graves to dig.”

“So you say,” said a second earth pony with the same cutie mark.

“When’s the funeral gonna be?” asked Brother White.

“Funeral?” asked the first gravedigger.

“Old bastard didn’t have a family,” said the second.

“But-”

“Listen, we don’t deal with that stuff,” said the first gravedigger, “we just dig holes and fill them with bodies, and that’s what we’re doing with this old stiff.”

“I wouldn’t be too broken up about it,” said the second gravedigger, “he got to die in bed. That’s quite an accomplishment. If you’re really broken up about this, you should just pop open that bottle of gin.”

“Well, we, uh...” Brother Scroll looked at White, who seemed to bear an expression of complete resignation.

___________

“O whether we be many

Or whether we be few

I’ll never want for anything

While I have faith in you.”

The bottle of gin was now covered in a dull glow, suspended in mid-air, as the two Brothers sang the Fraternity’s hymn. It was late, and White and Scroll were up on their hind legs, attempting to dance while supporting each other. This worked about as well as could be expected for two drunk ponies, and they lost balance and fell over, Scroll on his back with his glasses having fallen off, and White on top of him.

White managed to catch the bottle with his magic before it shattered on the floor and gently set it down.

“We shouldn try that again...” Brother Scroll slurred, giggling.

“Probly not,” said Brother White. “Y’know, Tap says you look cute without your glasses.” Scroll giggled more. “I think she’s right,” said White, smiling, and Scroll’s fits of giggles grew uncontrollable. When he was able to suppress his fits, he saw that White was looking up at the door. Scroll followed his gaze to see a stern-looking General Quake in the doorway.

“Hi, general,” said Brother White, levitating the bottle, “care to join us?”

General Quake raised a leg, and then stomped it on the ground. The whole mission house shook, and the missionaries scrambled to get up.

“What was in that letter?” he asked angrily.

“Huh?” Scroll asked, “letter...?”

“What was in the fucking letter, you fucking little fairies?” the general barked, walking up to Brother Scroll with a surprising bit of speed and knocking him down, “Tell me!” he pressed a hoof into Scroll’s mouth, pushing down, “You don’t send fucking letters without my approval!”

Scroll gagged on the general’s hoof, and his eyes went wide. If the general kept up the pressure he’d crush his skull.

“Stop! Please!” pleaded White, “We just sent for supplies! Just for some... some food and bedding and books! Things we need for the mission!”

The general paused, and then lifted his hoof. Scroll chocked, wheezing for air, and White ran to his side. “You okay...?”

“Fine,” said the general, “from now on, you send the letters through me.”

“Why?” asked Scroll, coughing.

“Because I fucking say so,” said the general, making Scroll cringe, “got it?”

Scroll nodded.

“And fix the door,” said the general as he walked out, “it’s a damn eyesore.”

---

Chapter 6

There was a dull clink as the empty bottle went into the garbage can.

“Right, then!” said Brother White, straightening his mane, “Doors again today?”

Scroll shrugged.

“Doors it is, then!” declared Brother White, “Set up the wheelbarrow and let’s go!”

“Nothing ever gets you down, does it?” asked Brother Scroll, piling a few less books into the wheelbarrow than they had the last time they tried, on the grounds that they were unlikely to part with too many of them and it’d be a lighter load.

“Nope,” said Brother White, beaming as always, “can’t let it. We’ve had setbacks, but that’s no reason to give up. We can’t let everypony down.”

“I wish I could do what you can,” said Brother Scroll, pulling the wheelbarrow.

“Why wish?” asked Brother White, “You’re perfectly capable.”

Scroll walked up to the door and found something funny - there was a bit of paper stuffed through one of the bullet holes. “Hey, what’s this?” he asked, pulling it out. It was an envelope. He opened it and out fell two small pieces of paper.

“What are they?” asked Brother White, levitating them in front of his face, “Ration coupons?”

Scroll read over his shoulder. “That’s what happens when you’re in a war with a water shortage, I guess.”

As they went out on the town again, Brother White didn’t have the usual spring in his step, but more of a “forward march” attitude. Brother Scroll followed behind with the wheelbarrow. It began as usual - disdainful looks or outright ignoring from passers-by, who had their own business to attend to. White trotted up to the first door, and knocked.

It opened slowly to reveal a young colt who seemed unusually cranky.

“Hello,” said the unicorn, “my name is Brother White. I was just admiring your door, the, the uh, sound when you,” he knocked on it again, “knock on it. Would you like a free book?”

“How many pages?” asked the colt.

“Umm... how many pages is it, Brother Scroll?” White asked, as the blue earth pony took one of the books and started flipping towards the back.

“No thank you,” said the colt, “too short. Won’t burn long enough.”

The door shut. “Should I try the next one?” asked Brother Scroll.

“Sure,” shrugged Brother White. This was probably a mistake, given that the next house over had a very threatening dog chained to a post outside. It growled at them, causing Scroll to back up.

“Easy, now, the dog can’t get ya,” encouraged Brother White. Taking a gulp, Scroll walked up to the front door and knocked. The door opened.

“Hello, my name is...” started Brother Scroll. There was some kind of crunching noise that Brother White didn’t recognize, and Scroll backed away, terrified. White saw that it was a gun. “I’m so sorry!” shouted Scroll, hiding behind the wheelbarrow, “I won’t intrude again, just please put the shotgun down!”

The door closed.

“Shotgun?” asked Brother White, “As opposed to a gun that doesn’t shoot?”

“Well, there are different kinds of guns,” said Brother Scroll, “shotguns, rifles, revolvers...”

“How do you know all this?”

“I told you, I read.”

“Yeah...” said Brother White, “but what do you read that has... guns and alcohol and swearing and stuff?”

“Well...” said Brother Scroll uneasily, “Comic books...”

Brother White didn’t respond. This was going absolutely nowhere, and Scroll’s confidence had been shrinking by the minute. Brother White didn’t wait for anything, he just marched straight up to the next house.

He angrily hammered on the door, and then stood, impatiently pawing the ground, until a very bored-looking mare opened the door.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Hi,” said Brother White, his characteristic smile gone, “I’m going to tell you something that you already know but don’t want to acknowledge: your life sucks.”

Brother Scroll sat at the wheelbarrow, shocked.

“I’ve seen what you ponies go through, and it’s abysmal,” continued White, “but we’re here to help. If you listen to us, we can change your life for the better.” He hovered the book in front of her, and his tone went from harsh to pleading. “Please,” he said, “just take our book. Read it. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Eh,” said the mare, taking the book and then shutting the door. White lowered his head. Even though she’d taken the book, what was the chance she’d read it? Or actually join?

Brother White sighed, time to go to the next house. And the next. And the next. No successes whatsoever. If they weren’t met by bored indifference, they were met with hostility.

As they passed through the town they saw the gallows, where the corpse of a unicorn could be seen hanging from the scaffold. Apparently he had been a spy, and the Brothers had arrived too late to even fail to save him.

It failed to leave Brother White shocked. He suspected that even Scroll was becoming jaded. Everywhere they went, they were met with one bleak disappointment after another. The high point of the day was White managing to avoid the payload of a chamber pot.

Maybe that old stallion had been right. Maybe it was time to just give up. Pack up and go home. The ponies here didn’t want help. They didn’t want friendship, they were just fine with going through their miserable existence with no hope of reprieve.

Scroll had all the fight taken out of him, as well. Poor guy, thought Brother White, he doesn’t deserve this. He couldn’t imagine how scared Scroll was - the other night when the general nearly killed him. That had to have shaken him considerably.

White decided - it was over. Time to give up. Time to pack up the mission and go home. There was nothing else they could do but sink lower and lower into despair.

“Scroll,” he said, “I think we’ve had enough.”

“Huh?” asked Scroll.

“We’re going back to the mission house,” White explained, walking back.

“But... aren’t we gonna...?”

“They don’t want our book,” said White, “they don’t want our message, and they don’t want our help. And they all hate our guts. At first I thought it was just me they hated, but no, it’s both of us.”

Scroll nodded. White looked at him. He was right - Scroll’s morale was completely shot.

“Come on, buddy,” said White, walking back to the mission house, “we’ll seek out worthier pastures. Just let these guys... just let them do what they’ve been doing.”

He continued talking as they walked back, explaining every bad thing that had happened to them.

“And they shoot up our nice door,” said White, sneering at the holes, “the general’s right. It’s an eyesore.” He opened the door, “First thing I’m doing when I get back, I’m going to...”

He stopped. There, sitting in one of the seats, still wearing that bizarre harness, was the pink colt from yesterday.

“Dental school...” White finished, quietly.

The colt turned and looked at them.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, confused. White relented.

“Well...” he said, “it’s just that we don’t see how much good we can do.”

“We’re just not cut out for it...” sighed Brother Scroll.

“Oh...” said the colt. He seemed disappointed. “I guess I’ll just go back out collecting garbage.”

“N-n-no, you don’t have to go just now!” said Brother Scroll, “I mean, are you hungry? Would you like some lunch or something?”

“I guess,” said Clip, “can I take this harness off?”

“Sure, go right ahead,” said Brother White, going into the kitchen. Pancakes, he thought. He could do with some pancakes. Maybe that’d make everypony feel better. He looked at the box, checking the...

“Oh, no...” he said out loud. He looked at the other boxes in the cabinet, and in the fridge. Everything they had was well past the expiration date.

“Oh Celestia...” he heard Brother Scroll say, “Oh, no, no no no no...”

This snapped Brother White out of his woozy stupor. “What?” he called.

“Come out here...”

“It, well...” he heard Clip say.

Brother White stepped out of the kitchen and looked at the colt. It took a few seconds for it to sink in, and then he gasped.

On the colt’s back there were two garish scars, like gashes, and on each of his flanks there was a burn mark.

“Oh no...” repeated Brother Scroll, “Oh no no no no no...”

“What...” asked Brother White, “What happened?”

“He’s a pegasus pony, and they, and they...” Brother Scroll stammered. Murders were one thing, but this... this was too much for him to comprehend.

“I was never a strong flier,” said Clip sadly, “up in the clouds, they test you. They throw you off and if you can fly, you get to come back up, but if you can’t, then... most drown. I washed up here, and they...”

“This... this is horrible!” exclaimed Scroll. “How can they do that?”

“They have me pick up garbage in the streets,” finished Clip, “that’s what I do. I need to fill the bags or else the boss gets mad...”

“I... I...” Brother Scroll stammered. He looked at Brother White. He hadn’t moved. His expression was blank. But in this, this moment of the worst horror that they’d seen yet... he realized something.

White slowly walked up to the colt, before kneeling down.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Clip, “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s all right,” said White, “Clip, I want you to know something.”

Clip’s ears pricked up.

“You don’t have to go back,” said White, “you don’t have to go pick up garbage anymore. You can stay here with us, in our mission.”

“But, but if I don’t...” stammered Clip.

“No buts,” said White. “If anypony comes for you, we’ll be right here. Clip...” he placed a hoof on the colt’s shoulder, giving a gentle smile, “you’re our brother. And we’re your family, Scroll and I. Brother Clip,” he said, standing up, “welcome to the Fraternity!”

___________

“Could I just get a salt lick?”

Tap turned around and saw that Brother White was sitting at the counter. It was shortly after noon, so there was a small crowd present. Scroll was nowhere to be seen, as he was taking care of Clip back at the mission house. “Not covered in oranges and piss this time, are you?”

“I’ve learned to look up,” said Brother White.

“You want a whole block? Just for you?”

“Yeah,” said Brother White, nodding, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You missionaries certainly like to talk, don’t you?”

“Well, we have a lot to say,” said White. “Scroll and I got drunk again last night...”

“I can only imagine how that went...”

“...And General Quake came over and threatened us. Again...” White sighed as Tap set down a block. “He can make the whole building shake just by stomping...”

“He can do more than that,” said Tap, “why do you think he’s called ‘Quake?’ Hell, the whole island, even?”

“Never thought of that...” said White, “Tap, what happened to the last two missionaries?”

“What?”

“Sky and Shine. Pegasus and unicorn. I’m sure they got met with a whole lot of racism,” said White, looking at the salt lick.

“I didn’t see them a whole lot,” said Tap, “I think they got scared and didn’t go too far from the mission house. They stopped by one time to offer me a book. I wasn’t interested, no offense.”

“Well, where are they now?” asked White.

“They left. One went with the wingers and one went with the horners.”

“You really shouldn’t be using those words,” reprimanded Brother White, “do you know what I saw today?” he took a lick. “I saw a colt.”

“Go on...” said Tap, leaning on the counter.

“He was a pegasus pony. His wings were torn off and he had burns where his cutie mark should be.”

Not the answer Tap expected to hear. “Surprised you haven’t given up yet.”

“But that’s it,” said White, tapping his hoof on the counter, “that’s why I can’t give up.”

“You really think you can stop a three-way war that’s been going on for as long as any of us can remember, and turn this place into a sugar-dream fantasy?”

“I’m certainly gonna try. At least I’m not going to stand by while foals get crippled and set to do demeaning labor when they should be in school and having fun and... and...” his voice was shaking with anger. He took a deep breath, calming down. “I almost gave up. I admit, it’s not easy. These books, we can’t even give them away.”

“Hey, bro!” said an approaching earth pony, “Thanks for the book. Real, uh, interesting read...”

It was the earth pony who’d gotten in a bar fight with White that other night. He slid the book right back to White.

“Case in point...” sighed Brother White, “But I’m not giving up. I’m not going to let down the Fraternity, or Scroll. I almost did, but I can’t let that happen. Sooner or later, somepony is gonna listen to us. It might not be the general, it might not be you, but it’ll happen.” He took another lick.

“I admire your persistence, kid, but you haven’t seen anything yet,” said Tap, tending to another customer who seemed so inebriated that he was close to falling off the seat. “Just wait until an attack comes. You think it’s bad now, it’s always worse when there’s an attack.”

“But you said,” said Brother White, “you said that the missionaries are with them. Together the four of us could stop-”

“If those two were capable of doing anything they’d have done it already.”

White didn’t say anything. “There has to be a way...” he said quietly.

Tap went along with her work as White just sat there with his salt lick. “I should go now,” he said after a pause, “I need to get back to the mission house. Make sure Scroll and Clip are alright. But first...” he slid the book towards her. “Please,” he said, “read our book. I don’t care if you laugh at me tomorrow for it, just read it. Please.”

“Well, all right...” she said, looking at the book. It was a simple book, with a brown cover. On it was a picture of a purple star, surrounded by five other small white stars, with the title “The Book of Friendship” above it. She looked up at the departing unicorn.

“About Scroll,” said Tap. White turned around. “Is he all right?” she asked, “Do you think that what I did was... wrong?”

“Well... I dunno,” said White, thinking about it.

“That’s never happened,” she said, “they just pay me and we do it. Not the nicest line of work, but you need every bit of money you can to keep the place running when most of the food is on ration - you either get your own stake in the forest or you find some way to scrounge enough money. And sometimes there’s some insecure dweeb that just wants to lose his virginity so he can brag to colts younger than they are or fail to impress older colts or whatever. Sometimes I’ve had them swear at me. But I’ve never seen one break down like that.”

“I think...” said Brother White, “that you had a difference in expectations.”

___________

Brother White walked back to the mission house, licking the block as he went. The sun was starting to come down. He knew that it was Princess Luna taking her duties for the night, though he didn’t think that the rest of the town knew. Not like it mattered to them. They’d probably hate the princesses for being both unicorns and pegasus ponies. They didn’t even know about the princesses.

He made his way back to the front door and tried to open it. It wouldn’t budge.

“Scroll?” he called, “Something going on in there?”

He saw a brown eye appear in one of the holes. “Well, not in here, but there’s a bit of a problem.”

“Problem?” asked White.

“Problem,” said a voice behind him. White turned around and saw the green pony from the day before.

“I miss the matriarchy...” whimpered Scroll.

“You here to beat me up again?” asked White.

“That’s part of it,” said the green pony, “there’s also the part that you’ve stolen my employee.”

“Your...” White said. Then he got it. “Ohhhh, your employee. Right,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “you mean that kid you have collecting garbage?”

“It’s none of your concern,” said the green pony, “I-”

“Hey, Clip!” White called through the door, “you wanna go back with this guy?”

Scroll looked at the terrified colt, who sat there, shaking.

“I think he says ‘no,’” said Scroll.

“Well, that settles that, then,” said White, licking his salt block again, “you can just... go away now,” he made a shooing motion with the salt lick.

“I’m not leaving without my employee.”

“Sorry, you’ll have to,” said Brother White, “I’m not letting you abuse him. I saw what you did - ripped his wings off and burned his cutie mark.”

“Sanctimonious, aren’t ya?”

“I have my moments,” said White, not budging.

“I’ll tell you one more time,” growled the green pony through his teeth, “get out of my way.”

“No,” said White, “you get out of my way. We’ve got work to do, and you’re interfering. You want that colt, you’re going through me.”

“I thought you'd never ask,” said the green pony, moving to strike White. He wasn't able to connect, however, as he was struck in the head by a flying object. White had used his telekinesis to swing the block around and strike his attacker in the head.

The green pony fell to the ground, dazed. “Ugh.”

White backed up, a little startled about what he’d just done. He looked around, and let out a nervous sigh. “Well...” he said, “if you want to learn about the magic of friendship, you’re free to come in. Clip, however, is staying right here.”

There was the scraping sound of moving furniture as Scroll hurriedly opened the door, letting White walk in. “And stay out!” Scroll shouted, before slamming the door.

___________

That night, Clip had a dream.

Clip woke up in his bed, in a new home in Equestria. The four walls of his bedroom were made out of something different - one wall was a giant salt lick, one was made of gingerbread, one was made of hard candy, and the last was a giant hay bale.

He went out of his bedroom to breakfast, where White and Scroll, his two daddies, were preparing a huge stack of pancakes. They had a lot to eat because they got five ration coupons a week. White nuzzled Scroll. His daddies loved each other very much.

He had to go out for work for the day. Outside, everything was clean. Walking to work, he passed a mission house, where there were two smiling young ponies. Then he passed another mission house, and another, and another. Along the way, he got lost, and was stopped by a large, threatening stallion. It was the local general.

“Hey,” said the general. “Are you lost?”

“Yes, sir,” Clip responded.

“Then follow me,” said the general, guiding him to his place of work. “And have a lollipop.”

After he got to his place of work, he found his boss, smiling. His boss had just given him the day off. Heck, he’d given him the entire week off. As much time off as he wanted, really, he could just take it.

He could spend the day with all his friends - and he had real friends, friends who were earth ponies, pegasus ponies, and unicorns, in every color of the rainbow, and none of them judged him for being a pegasus pony or for not having wings or anything. They all played on a grassy hill (and the grass was very green, because the grass is always green in Equestria), and they got on a cloud zeppelin that wasn’t likely to get shot down, and they had fun.

And at the end of the day, when he was tired, he went back home. His daddies fixed him dinner, gave him a bath, read him a bedtime story, and tucked him into bed.

---

Chapter 7

A tavern is normally a place where one can find all sorts of colorful personalities. This tavern, however, was permeated by various shades of brown. Lots of assholes, basically, and all of them loud and drunk. Tap managed to put up with it, though. She had to, otherwise she’d have gone crazy a long time ago.

She ran the tavern, more or less, along with her younger brother, Barrel, a tawny, slightly fat earth pony who at that moment in time was in the cellar, trying to figure out which of two bottles of cider was fermented. The two of them were almost constantly busy - got to bed late and got up early, though sometimes they were able to take turns. This occasionally allowed for one of them to sleep in or leave the tavern to shop or walk. Sometimes, however, the tavern required both of their attention.

Like when Barrel couldn’t tell which bottle had the fermented stuff.

While she loved her brother dearly, she had to admit that Barrel was always a few pints short of a hogshead. Since their parents died in a pegasus attack years ago, she’d had to take care of everything for both the tavern (which had needed to be rebuilt several times) and her brother.

Tap’s days were rarely interesting. In the morning she woke up and walked downstairs to the bar, opening it for business. She and her brother then served drinks for the next few hours. Shortly before noon there was a break in the flow of business, and at this time Tap left the tavern. She needed to buy some hops. This, however, turned out to be a problem.

“Five bits?” she asked. “It was four last week.”

“Well, a pony needs the money. I can barely support myself as is,” protested the merchant.

“You and me both,” Tap sighed, not in the mood to try arguing prices.

That left a slight block of free time, which she used to think to herself on things that had happened to her recently. She’d lost a door, for one thing. Those two goody-four-horseshoes missionaries seemed to keep cropping up. Of course, that wasn’t too difficult when...

“We want to be your friends!” she heard that familiar, almost whiny voice call. Brother Scroll, trying his damned hardest to sell. She felt bad for the guy. Then she spotted the little pink colt in their wagon, which she quickly realized was the garbage collector Brother White had mentioned the last time they met. Which reminded her...

She went back to the tavern, deciding that she’d see just what it was that was in their miraculous little book. She went upstairs and into her room. She had a dusty but fairly large bed, and a nightstand with a broken drawer. Unlike the door, she was in no hurry to fix that. Not a priority. It opened with a painful scraping sound, and she took out the book. She also decided that the lighting wasn’t good enough, so she went to the windows and opened the blinds. Sunlight flooded into the room, forcing her to blink. The room seemed so different in the light.

She sat down on her bed and opened the book. Twilight Sparkle...

She snorted. What kind of a name was that? That sounded like the kind of name she made up as a filly when she wanted to pretend she was a princess or something. But apparently Equestria was actually run by princesses...

Oh, and Twilight Sparkle was also a unicorn. Great, thought Tap, I’m reading lessons from a horner...

While Tap wasn’t as aggressively racist as many other ponies, she found it hard to admire a unicorn when most of her encounters with unicorns were violent ones. Except for Brother White, that is. He was nice, if a little full of himself and hopelessly naive. It might’ve helped that he hadn’t drunkenly hit on her and thrown demeaning terms in her direction, but then again, she almost took it for granted that he was a coltcuddler. She wasn’t too sure about Scroll, though.

The story was a silly one, she thought. So basically this unicorn gets together with another unicorn, two earth ponies, and two pegasus ponies, and they have these magic things that enable them to defeat this maniacal pony that’s somehow both a pegasus and a unicorn (she found her an easy antagonist to dislike, funnily enough), and... they make friends with her in the end. Sort of.

She had to stop there. It was too ridiculous. And these ponies were obviously lesbians.

Actually, that made her think a bit. Maybe the ponies in Equestria were all just really nice to each other like that. Damn, she thought, maybe those two aren’t gay. It left her puzzling.

The next story in the book involved some sort of confusion about tickets for a big fancy party. Dumb, she thought, I would’ve just scalped ‘em. Then it turned out that all she had to do was ask for more tickets. These fillies must have been as old as she was at the time these letters were written, but the most pressing concern on their minds was “who gets the ticket?”

That was enough of that for the day. Seriously, if the worst they had to worry about was a matter of who to give tickets to... well, they must’ve had pretty good lives.

“Hey, give those back!”

She raised her head, looking towards the window. Getting up from her bed, she walked over and looked out. Those two again, and this time a group of rambunctious foals had grabbed Scroll’s glasses and were running off with them.

The glasses, however, seemed to lift right out of the foal’s mouth and floated over to Scroll’s face again. Unicorn magic, she saw. She saw Brother White walk over to Scroll, who had sat down to adjust his glasses, and White said something. She couldn’t hear what it was, but it made Scroll smile. White had to break off, though - the foals had moved on to teasing the garbage collector who was in the wagon.

Well, that was about the entirety of her free hour to herself. She closed the blinds, put the book back on the nightstand (she didn’t want to wrestle with the drawer again) and headed back downstairs. Her brother Barrel, however, was not at the counter. Sighing, she checked the cellar.

“Barrel?”

“Just a minute!” her brother shouted frantically. He had several cups out and he was pouring cider into, mixing them together. It seemed that his solution to the “can’t tell which is which” question was to simply mix the contents of the two bottles together.

___________

One particularly plastered pony was demanding another drink. “Ehy, ahm payin’!” he protested.

“Keep up like that, you’ll drink us out of house and home,” said Tap. “Besides, I’d rather you didn’t pass out in a pool of your own vomit in here.”

“Jus one more...”

“No. That’s it. Get out if you can walk straight enough to get to the door,” Tap said emphatically.

The drunk pony grumbled in between hiccups, and got up, walking to the door... of the bathroom. As he didn’t come out for quite a while, Tap was led to assume that he had either passed out or was taking an extraordinarily long piss.

Mid-afternoon, and business had slowed to a crawl, which allowed Tap and Barrel to catch their breaths a little. It’d be a few hours before the ponies started pouring in, and there was sure to be a cavalcade of fighting and bad singing.

She sighed. “Barrel?” she said, “I think we’ll have to close the tavern for a bit sometime this week.”

“Huh?” asked Barrel, who was thinking to himself about exactly how much water he should use to dilute the beer.

“Close the place down for a day so we don’t have to deal with this. Brew some more drinks so that we’re able to keep up. That sort of thing.”

Barrel shrugged. Managing stuff was not his strong suit.

“Is this ‘terrible doors week’ or something?” asked a voice. Tap looked up. It was General Quake, accompanied on either side by two lieutenants of his. Quake was wearing a fancy uniform, which meant one thing – “important” military meeting.

He was sneering at the curtain they were using for a makeshift door. “See how that keeps anything out,” he muttered, walking to a table in the corner with his two lieutenants. “And bring us some ales,” he ordered.

Tap wondered which was worse – a tavern filled with normal assholes or a tavern with just one reigning asshole?

She never complained out loud, though. Snarked at drunkards, yes, but didn’t complain. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all, and in such a setting one can’t be too picky with patrons. Besides, pissing off the general was a bad idea.

She got a tray and placed three bottles on it before carrying it over to the table.

“...they’re avoiding each other,” said one of the lieutenants.

“Figures,” said the general, “buncha cowards. That’s why they got big flying things - so they can run away! Not us, though. Whatever it is they’re planning, we’ll be right here, ready.”

“Think they might be joining each other?” asked one of the lieutenants.

“Don’t be retarded, they hate each other as much as they hate us!” said the other.

Tap, deciding that their conversation didn’t have anything to offer her in the area of maybe-this-information-will-keep-me-from-dying, placed the tray on the table.

“I think we can probably expect an attack in the near future,” said the general, “if those little shit-wings gave us the right information and Tap don’t go away just yet.” The rapid change in the topic was not accompanied by a similarly rapid change in tone. “I’d like you to go upstairs and wait for me in a few minutes.”

Tap sighed and took the tray away as one of the lieutenants got annoyed. “What, now?” he asked incredulously.

“Not now, in a few minutes,” said the general.

“You call us out here for a meeting and then you...”

“Listen, it’s my fucking island and I’ll do what I fucking like, got it?” said the general. The lieutenant backed down. Pissing off the general was a bad idea.

“Think you can hold down the fort for the time being?” asked Tap, putting the tray back at the counter.

“Yeah, why?” asked Barrel. Tap nodded over at the general. “Aww, no...” said Barrel, disgusted, “no, don’t...”

Tap ignored him and just trudged upstairs, while one of the lieutenants (the one that had suggested that the other two factions might’ve formed an alliance) started snickering at Barrel’s reaction. The other lieutenant (who had called him retarded) promptly smacked him upside the head.

She decided that now would be as good a time as any to continue reading. There was that thing where the farmer pony learned that she needed help. That was the section Scroll read from when they broke the door.

The next story involved a griffon... she had absolutely no idea what that was. But apparently she was a bitch that needed to be put in her place. It was also at this point that she decided that Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash were definitely lesbians.

She skipped forward into the book, and to her surprise, found that the letters had ended. This section was title “Party Games.”

Spin the Bottle - you and your friends sit in a circle and place a bottle in the middle. One pony spins it. When the bottle stops spinning, the pony has to kiss whoever the bottle is facing.

Truth or Dare - ponies take turns. When it’s a pony’s turn, they have to choose between truth or a dare. If truth, that pony has to answer a question (preferably an embarrassing question). If dare, the pony has to do whatever he or she is told. In some variants, the pony whose turn it is selects the pony who calls truth or dare and then selects either the question or the challenge, and in other variants the truth or dare that the selected pony has to answer is open for anyone to call.

The door opened, and in walked the general.

“Anything we commonponies need to know?” asked Tap dryly. The general ignored her.

“What’s that?” he asked, seeing that she was reading.

“It’s that book the missionaries are handing out.”

The general groaned. “I am getting fucking sick of those two,” he said through his teeth as he undid his uniform, “them and their fucking combed manes and their fucking little smiles and their fucking little ‘oh I want to be friendly, come on and be gay with me’ shit.”

“I don’t see a problem with them,” said Tap, turning a page (card games and tricks, the last entry being 52 Pickup), “they aren’t really hurting anything.”

“This morning I got a complaint from somepony about how they stole one of his employees.”

“Garbage collector?”

“Yeah, that was it, I think.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she asked, somewhat apprehensively.

“Nothing, don’t give a shit about his garbage collectors. But if those two keep butting into everything with ‘oh, we can save you all with the magic of friendship,’ they’re gonna be in deep shit.” He turned around. “What’s that book about, anyway?”

“It’s about a horner and her friends,” said Tap, closing it, “it’s... pretty stupid.” She concluded, placing it on the nightstand. The general approached the bed.

___________

A few days later, Tap went for a walk. She was going to the mission house - despite their regular visits, she’d never actually seen this place on the inside. She was going to try to run some errands a little later, but she didn’t have very high hopes. A pony couldn’t have very high hopes in this place.

Except for those two missionaries. Ever chipper, if occasionally rattled. She wondered how long that would last. Probably not - their foundations were already crumbling. She felt bad for them. Anypony else and she’d likely just suggest they suck it up, but these two... they were practically kids.

The door had some boards on it to cover the bullet holes. That didn’t really do anything for the aesthetics that the general seemed to have been complaining about. She checked the door - unlocked. In fact, the door didn’t seem to have a lock on it. This baffled her. Still, she wasn’t one to completely turn down their hospitality.

She entered and saw Brother Scroll, his back to the door, reading something.

“So you think we should try limbo or musical chairs?” asked Scroll.

“Huh?”

Scroll jumped, turning around. “Oh, uh, sorry...” he said, fidgeting with his glasses (nervous again, thought Tap), “I thought you were White. The pony, not the color, that is...”

“Where is he?” asked Tap.

“He went out,” said Scroll, “he wanted to, uh... check something out...”

“What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, can’t tell you,” said Scroll, “it’s a surprise...”

“And it involves either limbo or musical chairs?”

“No, that’s something completely different,” said Scroll, “we were hoping to throw a party. A bit of a problem when we can’t make cake, though.”

“I see...” said Tap. Scroll wouldn’t stop fidgeting, like he was antsy about something, but then, Scroll seemed like he was always antsy about something. “How’s the mission going?”

“Fine, fine...” said Scroll. The air felt thick with awkwardness.

“It isn’t, isn’t it?” asked Tap.

“No,” said Scroll, letting out a sigh like the air being released from a very worried balloon, “still nopony interested and I almost got beat up again. Same with White. Somepony tried to kill White the other day and the general almost killed me and what if the general gets mad again because of Clip...”

“I can tell you he doesn’t really care about the garbage collector...”

“...and all the ponies here are just so mean and they curse at you and throw racism and homophobic slurs and ponies keep dying and being violent and there’s all these guns and booze and did you see what they do to the little pegasus ponies they catch it’s horrible and... and...” and by this point he was nearly hyperventilating.

“It’s okay, it’s okay...” said Tap, nuzzling his shoulder, “just calm down.”

Scroll took a few deep breaths. “Okay... I think I’m fine... it’s just... it’s just really hard.”

“Well, that’s life,” said Tap, “well, life for us. I guess it’s different where you’re from.”

“Uh-huh,” said Scroll, nodding, “so, uh... wanna see a fridge? We got one in the kitchen.”

“Sure, why not?” said Tap, hoping that the awkwardness of the visit would be over soon. Scroll led her into the place, and Tap was rather shocked that they got a fancy clean kitchen while hers was, well, not. Hell, just how pampered were these Equestrians, anyway?

“So, here we are,” said Scroll, throwing open the fridge. Tap looked in it, unimpressed. “Well, we had to throw all the food out. Expired...”

Tap stuck her head in the fridge. It was cool, like they said, but she found it surprising. It was just so alien to her.

“How does it work?” she asked.

“Unicorn magic,” said Scroll, “same with the stove and the oven here. It all runs on unicorn magic. A lot of inventions were made by unicorns. And I mean, if they’ve got a floating city... I’d like to see that, actually.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” said Tap, “it’s hell when they come.’

“Oh...” said Scroll. “Well...”

“Helloooooo!” called out a familiar sing-song voice as Brother White merrily swung the door open. “Scrooooll, I got your favorite snaaaack.”

Tap gave Scroll an amused look, and Scroll laughed nervously. “We’re in the kitchen!” he called.

“We?” asked White, stepping into the mission house and poking his head through the kitchen door. “Oh,” he said, seeing Tap, “glad you came over for a visit.”

“Hi,” said Tap.

“Soo...” said Scroll, “I’m not sure if we should do limbo or musical chairs...”

“Limbo, definitely,” said White, dragging in the wagon (Clip was sitting there looking cute) “requires less setup and it’s easier to jump in.”

“Alright then, limbo it is!”

“So,” said Tap, trying to sort it all out, “you two are throwing a party?”

“Uh-huh!” said Clip enthusiastically, “With balloons even!”

“And we’d like you to come!” said White happily, “you and anypony else you’d like to invite!”

Tap opened her mouth. She was about to say no, but that smile on White’s face (along with the accompanying squeaking sound he made) largely prevented her from doing that.

“Oh, alright,” she conceded.

“YAY!” exclaimed the other three in unison.

___________

Tap returned to the tavern to find Barrel leaning on the counter, looking a little forlorn. There was a bottle next to him.

“Oh, Barrel, you’re too young to be drinking!” she said, walking over to him.

“Gotta start sometime...” Barrel mumbled. Something, however, seemed off. Tap inspected the bottle.

“Barrel... this is ginger ale,” she said.

“Yeah, so?”

“Ginger ale doesn’t have alcohol in it,” she explained, eyes narrowed slightly.

Barrel sat up. “Oh. What about ginger beer?”

“Sometimes. And you shouldn’t slouch like that. I don’t want you to get a crooked back.”

“Where were you?” asked Barrel.

“Oh, I went to see the missionaries.”

“What do they want, anyway?” asked Barrel, “one of them was in here the other day. Got a bottle of gin. He seemed nervous about something...”

“Blue one?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, he’s like that. Anyway, they want to have a party or something,” said Tap, “invited us.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. I think they just want to be... well, nice to everypony,” she reasoned. “Now get cleaned up, we’re gonna get a lot of ponies in here who want their booze and it is not going to be fun.”

___________

The next day it was Barrel’s turn to take leave. He didn’t usually run errands or anything - every time he tried, he always forgot something. More likely he was going to go down to the docks and watch the sea birds as they carried out their mundane activities. He could sit for hours just watching them.

Today, however, it appeared that he hadn’t gone down to the docks. When he came back, he was sporting some heavy-looking saddlebags and a big grin on his face.

“Hiya, sis!”

“Hey, Barrel,” said Tap, trying not to betray a sense of surprise, “...where were you?”

“At the mission!” said Barrel enthusiastically. “Look!” He puffed out his chest, showing the shiny name badge he had. “They’ve accepted me into the Fraternity! I’m Brother Barrel now!”

Tap blinked, somewhat dumbfounded.

“And the bags?”

“Books!” he said, setting the saddlebags down on a table, “we can set up a little table and it’ll have all the books there, and the patrons can just come in and take them.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” asked Tap, nervously. The last thing she wanted was to be ridiculed for being associated with the Fraternity.

“Aww, c’mon, sis,” said Barrel.

“Oh, alright,” she said, deciding that there was no conceivable way it could make things worse.

___________

That night, they had a small table near the counter, stacked with books and a sign inviting patrons to “Take One.”

General Quake happened to come in that night. After scoffing at their lack of a proper door, his eyes fell on that table. He stared at it for a full minute, and then looked at the two ponies behind the counter. Tap ignored him, while Barrel looked back at him with a hopeful smile. He even made the squeaking noise that White had (how do they do that? she wondered).

“Fuck, now I really need a drink...” grumbled the general.

---

Chapter 8

Barrel had walked into the mission a few days ago, suspicious, like many a pony. He saw the two missionaries sitting down at a table, White with a book in front of him, and Scroll and the little pegasus colt sitting across from him.

“So, what is the most important thing that we learn from the story of the Sonic Rainboom?” asked Brother White.

“That you should always be there for a friend when they need support, and that you shouldn’t be so self-centered you forget it,” answered Scroll, who probably knew the book better than White.

“Good!” said White, flipping through pages. “Now, Clip, your turn - what is the most important thing we learn from Trixie and Twilight Sparkle’s encounter with the Ursa Minor?”

“Umm...” said Clip, trying to think, “that unicorns shouldn’t show off their magic?”

“Nooooo,” said White, “the thing is, Clip, that all of us ponies are special, and we shouldn’t be ashamed of the things that make us who we are. The important thing to remember is that we mustn’t think that these things make us better than the ponies around us.”

“Ohhh,” said Clip, nodding.

“Okay, Scroll, now your turn to quiz me,” said White, floating the book over to the blue earth pony.

“Okay...” said Scroll, flipping through the pages, “how about this one - what is it we learn from the story of Fluttershy and the phoenix?”

“That we should ask permission before taking things into our own hooves!” said White, beaming. “That right?”

“Uh-huh,” said Scroll.

Clip, however, seemed confused. “Then... what about me?”

White’s smile twitched a little. Scroll also found Clip’s question troubling. The silence allowed Barrel a chance to speak up.

“Hi,” said Barrel, nervously. The other three ponies looked at him.

“Oh, hi!” said White.

“You’re the pony from the tavern, right?” asked Scroll.

“Yeah,” said Barrel, “I’m Barrel, and I’m Tap’s brother.”

“Oh...” said Scroll, starting to fidget with his glasses for some reason.

“Well, Barrel, why don’t you come on in?” asked White, “pull up a seat?”

“Alright...” said Barrel, taking a chair from the room and dragging it over to the table, sitting next to Scroll. The unicorn smiled at him. He’d never seen a unicorn smile at him like that. Not without a gun floating next to his head...

“So,” White said, “Barrel, that’s your name? What do you know of our Fraternity?”

“Umm...” said Barrel, “well, you have books...”

“Uh-huh?” said White, pressing further.

“You go around doors a lot...”

“Uh-huh?”

“You know my sister...”

Brother Scroll fidgeted with his glasses some more. Brother White didn’t let that smile falter. Barrel looked at it. It was friendly. “I don’t think of you as an idiot,” it seemed to say, “I like you and think you’d do great with us.”

“Well, that’s all I really know...”

“Well,” said White, “we are called the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia...”

So they told him about Princess Celestia and Twilight Sparkle and the Elements of Harmony. They told him about the importance of love and tolerance and sharing and caring. Barrel started to spend most of his spare time with the Fraternity, learning about the organization and their book. He was not as sardonic a pony as his sister, and he quickly found himself liking the stories. Their philosophy, their way of life... it was just so happy that he found himself swept up in it, no matter how silly it might have seemed.

At the moment, Scroll and Barrel were hauling a large chest into the wheelbarrow, while White paced back and forth excitedly.

“Oh man, you guys, this is gonna be great!” White said, “We got everything?”

“I think so...” said Scroll.

“Wonderful!” said White, “Now, Barrel, you swear you haven’t told anyone what we’re doing?”

“Yeah!” said Barrel. White and Scroll looked at him. “Yeah, uh,” Barrel stammered, “I mean, yeah, I swear I haven’t told anyone.”

“Alrighty,” said White, “tomorrow’s the big day, then.”

“I’ll see if I can get my sister to close the tavern tomorrow,” said Barrel, “we’ve been talking about doing it for a little while.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

___________

“Please?” asked Barrel. “You said we could shut down the tavern for a day this week.”

“Barrel, I’d like to, but we simply can’t afford it,” said Tap. This really was not the opportune time for such a conversation, as they were busy.

“But this is really, really important!”

“You still haven’t told me what ‘this’ is.”

“Bitch, I asked for a drink,” shouted a patron.

“Then take this bottle and shove it up your ass!”

“Well, I can’t,” said Barrel, “it’s a surprise.”

Tap rolled her eyes. “Oh, I give up... Listen, you can do it if you really want, but I’ll have to stay here.”

“But I want you to see it...”

Tap sighed. “Barrel, you can’t always get what you want. That’s just how life is.”

Barrel’s ears drooped.

“Look, Barrel,” she said, relenting, “I’d like to come see... whatever it is you’re putting on, I really would, but we have work.”

“I want a fucking beer!”

“Shut up!” shouted Tap. “Look,” she said, turning back to Barrel, “you can take the day off tomorrow, do your thing. Then you can tell me all about it. Okay?”

“Okay...”

“There. Now, could you run down to the cellar and grab a bottle of beer so this asshole will shut up?”

“Whore.”

“Jackass.”

___________

“Make way, everypony!” shouted Brother White, as he, Brother Scroll, Clip, and Barrel made their way through the town. Scroll was pulling the wheelbarrow, as usual, and in the wheelbarrow was the large trunk. “Alright, guys, you remember everything?” White asked.

“Yeah...” said Scroll, “I dunno why we have to do it at the...”

“It’s the only place that works for this,” said White, stopping. “All right, here we are!”

They were standing in front of the gallows - a wooden platform, high into the air. There was a wooden beam looming over the platform, some nooses still dangling from it, flapping in the wind like ghosts. There was a lever on the platform that opened the trap door, sending any hapless pony below, where they wouldn’t hit the ground until the rope was cut.

Scroll gulped.

“Stage fright?” asked Brother White.

“Among other things...”

“Well, come on, chop chop!” said Brother White, merrily trotting up to the stairs. There were other ponies around. They wondered why this unicorn seemed to be merrily heading off to his death. Of course, they used some sort of racism to explain that.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Earthquake Island!” he shouted out, and a crowd started gathering. Yes yes yes, he thought. “We have something very, very special for all of you today...”

He had to pause. Scroll and Barrel were still hauling the chest up the stairs. About a minute later, they managed to place the chest on the center of the platform.

“Ah, good,” said White when they finally got the thing where it was supposed to be. “And now...” he said, trying to make his voice sound deeper (which didn’t work because he was a tenor), “for the show!”

His horn glowed, and the lever released the trap door, sending the trunk falling. As it fell, it opened, and red cloth shot out, coming through the trap door and draping itself over the wooden beam, like a curtain. More red cloth emerged and covered the surface of the platform, billowing over the sides and covering up the area beneath. White and the others went behind the curtain.

The missionaries had turned the gallows into a stage.

___________

Tap was ready to run the tavern by herself. She expected that there would be the usual early-afternoon ponies on lunch break, a small group she could normally handle. However, they were nowhere to be seen. Well, except for that one guy passed out in the corner. He was there a lot. Occasionally she stopped by to make sure he was still breathing.

Nopony there. Her tavern was quiet. More than that, it wasn’t filled with assholes. That was the bright side. The downside was that the tavern was extraordinarily boring. She decided that maybe she’d go continue reading in the book that Brother White had given her. Then she thought. There was that thing the missionaries were doing that Barrel was helping out with. He really wanted her to see it. Maybe, just maybe, she could close up the tavern for now and go see it.

That is, if she knew where it was... of course, she reasoned that those two missionaries weren’t particularly difficult to find, what with one of them having a horn on his head.

A simple step out the door gave her the impression that there was a modest crowd of ponies heading in one particular direction. The direction in question, however, puzzled her - the gallows? That couldn’t be it. The missionaries couldn’t be looking forward to their own execution, could they-

Yes, she thought dryly, they absolutely could.

She reasoned, however, that execution probably wasn’t the case. She followed the crowd, almost dreading what their “surprise” was. She decided, too late, that it was a bad idea for her brother to be taking part in this. Her opinion was not improved when she got to the gallows - there it was, draped in gaudy red curtains that would’ve been better suited to... well, she never really thought about the uses of gaudy red curtains.

“Good afternoon, fillies and gentlecolts!” shouted the voice of Brother White (Scroll drew a comparison to Brother Emcee from the ceremony), “Today, we have something very, very special to show to all the ponies here on Earthquake Island! We would like to tell you the story of how our Fraternity began!”

The curtains drew back, and Tap stared, dumbfounded.

There, standing on the gallows, was Brother White. He was wearing fake wings, a gold tiara, fancy gold horseshoes, and he had a multicolored cloth covering his mane.

“I am Princess Celestia!” announced Brother White. “I rule over the land of Equestria, and it is my task to raise the sun each day!”

“And I!...” shouted a voice, “am her sister, Princess Luna!”

It was Brother Scroll. He, too, was in drag, also sporting fake wings, a horn, an a silver tiara and horseshoes. “I raise the moon every night!”

Scroll was not a very good actor. His lines were all delivered in either a loud monotone or were shaky, like he was nervous. “We sisters embody all three of the pony races - earth, unicorn, and pegasus.”

It was sort of fitting, in a way. You have the radiant sun-princess and the quiet moon-princess. They also conveniently had the right colors, with Scroll being blue and White being, well, white.

There was an awkward silence. The two just stood there in their ridiculous costumes, staring at the audience. After a while, Brother Scroll let out a gasp as he realized that he still had another line.

“Sister, I am jealous!” he exclaimed, turning to Brother White.

“Why is that, Luna?” asked Brother White as Princess Celestia.

“Nopony appreciates what I do! I raise the moon every night, and they all sleep through it! That makes me jealous, so I will not lower the moon!”

“But you have to!”

“Make me!”

“Ohhh, my sister, I am so sorry,” intoned Brother White in the most melodramatic way he could (which was quite melodramatic), “but I can see that evil has seeped into your heart!”

“I shall depose you and become the one true princess of Equestria! I will be the queen of the night!”

“No! I will stop you!” Shouted Brother White, his horn glowing, “Forgive me, my sister!”

Brother Scroll let out a yelp as the trap door was sprung, sending him below the platform (Tap could have sworn she saw White mouth “don’t break character” down to him).

Tap blinked. She just had to wonder - what could they possibly hope to accomplish with this? What train of logic were they following that made them think that a poorly-produced pageant would perform better than their usual door-knocking routine?

Next, Clip walked onto the stage, wearing a fake horn, just like Scroll had. Brother White looked at him, “ahh, Twilight Sparkle, my favorite student! How are you?”

“I’m just fine, Princess Celestia,” said Clip, who was not much better at acting than Scroll had been.

“And yet I sense that something troubles you.”

“It’s Nightmare Moon, your majesty,” said Clip, “the prophecies have clearly foretold that the stars will aid in her escape this year at the Summer Sun Celebration. We have to stop her!”

“Twilight Sparkle,” said White, “thank you for bringing this to my attention. I decree that you go to Ponyville and make some friends!”

With that, Brother White left the stage, leaving Clip alone.

Please don’t start singing... thought Tap. Mercifully, she got her wish.

Brother Scroll walked on-stage, pink paint slapped onto his face. He looked at Clip, and then delivered in a flat, quiet voice, “My name is Pinkie Pie and I don’t know you so I will throw a party for you.” He then walked off the stage in exactly the same manner as he had walked on.

“Howdy!” shouted Brother White, prancing onto stage wearing a cowboy hat and orange paint smeared all over his face, “I’m Applejack! I run Sweet Apple Acres, where we prize good, hard, honest work! And food! We have lots and lots of food!”

Brother Scroll walked back on stage with the same fake wings, except this time he had several different colors of paint splashed in his mane. “I’M RAINBOW DASH!” he shouted, “I’M FAST AND BOLD! I CAN CLEAR THE CLOUDS IN EXACTLY ONE-SIXTH OF A MINUTE!”

All this time, Clip had no lines and just sort of walked from one side of the stage to the other, as White and Scroll alternated between overacting and underacting. Tap was extraordinarily glad that Barrel had not appeared on stage yet.

It also became abundantly apparent that it was Brother White who was the real star of the show, which was probably for the best, given that he was the only pony who could act his way out of a paper bag. White’s insistence on being the center of attention became even clearer when he strutted out wearing a purple wig, walking towards the center of the stage.

“Helloooooo, Earthquake Island!” he said in the most flamboyant sing-song voice imaginable. “I am Rarity, the most glamorous pony in all of Ponyville! But I’m more than just that! I am very generous!”

Brother Scroll popped onto stage with purple paint on his face. “I find you very attractive,” he said, much more convincingly than anything else he’d acted so far.

“And today, I have something very special!” White’s horn glowed, and the trap door opened. Up through the trap door came various food items - two salt licks, two cartons of eggs, two bushels of apples, and two straw bales. “I am giving away two weeks worth of rations!”

“We are?” asked Scroll. “Oh yeah, she is...” he said, upon a reprimanding glance from White.

White walked down off of the gallows, passing out the food to the various ponies. Tap caught on - this was more than just their usual door-to-door attempt. They were trying to be a bit more blatant with reaching out, and one couldn’t be more blatant than giving away rations. She did have to wonder, though, how they planned on continuing to feed themselves if they gave away their own food.

She reasoned that they were well-intentioned idiots who simply hadn’t planned that far ahead.

It ended up that each individual pony didn’t really get a whole lot of rations, and Brother White quickly ran out of food. White found this disappointing, so much that he nearly broke character. The show must go on, he decided, and mounted the stair again, just as Brother Scroll walked on with a pink wig and yellow paint. He mumbled something - Tap could piece together “I like animals” before Scroll walked off the stage again.

Finally, after all that business, it was Clip’s turn to speak. “Now that I’ve made so many friends, it’s time for me to stop Nightmare Moon from...” he struggled with the word, “plunging Equestria into...” he struggled again, “eternal night!”

There was an awkward silence. Scroll stumbled onto the stage in the earlier Luna costume. “You are too late! I have stolen Princess Celestia, and now the night shall last forever!”

“No!” said Clip, “my friends and I have the Elements of Harmony!”

“What?” asked Scroll in the most flatly anti-climactic way possible. A cardboard rainbow (the audience gasped) swung across the stage, hanging by a rope. The trap door opened, and he fell down. Brother White emerged, wearing the Celestia costume again.

“My sister, I...” he reached down through the trap door. They hadn’t quite rehearsed this bit, as White struggled to try to pull Scroll up from the ground. Scroll was a bit heavier than White, and since White was a unicorn, his physical strength was not the best. After about three minutes of the audience watching them awkwardly try to pull Scroll up the trap door, Brother White let out a gasp for air, and finished, “...I forgive you.”

White turned to Clip, “And you,” he announced, “my prized student, Twilight Sparkle, what have you learned?”

“I learned about the magic of friendship!” said Clip excitedly (or at least the little guy was trying to say it excitedly).

“And you will stay here, in Ponyville, and learn more about the magic of friendship,” said Brother White, as he and Scroll walked behind the curtain, “and you will write letters to me, telling me what you have learned.”

A flag bearing the same symbol as the book unfurled, hanging over the stage. Brother White continued with his speech.

“And then I will take those letters, and we will put them into a book, and then the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia will take that book and go throughout Equestria and beyond, teaching ponies everywhere about the magic of friendship! Everywhere, from the city of Canterlot, to Apple-oosa, to little Earthquake Island, where the Fraternity will send... US!”

Brother White and Brother Scroll, now dressed as the nice little missionaries they were, burst from behind the curtains, Scroll with a book in his mouth and White with a book floating above his head. “And we are here to teach all of you about the magic of friendship, and what it can do for your lives!”

The three looked out at the audience expectantly. They were completely silent, just staring at the Brothers. Scroll looked at White, wondering what to do. He sat down and took the book out of his mouth, holding it in his hooves, before smiling at the audience like White (except less confident). After about twenty seconds of awkward silence, the crowd began to lose interest and walk away.

“Aren’t they supposed to applaud at this point?” whispered Scroll nervously.

“I knew we should’ve added a musical number...” said White.

The crowd cleared the area almost as quickly as it had formed, leaving only a few curious stragglers. “Yep,” said Brother White, “we definitely should’ve added a musical number.”

Barrel poked his head out from behind the curtain. “So...” he said, “we done?”

“Yep. That’s everything. Time to strike the set and all that. Thanks for the help,” said White.

“You guys...” called Tap, who hadn’t moved from where she was standing for the entire show, “I swear, you guys are completely crazy.”

“Funny," said White, "Twilight Sparkle said something like that."

Tap shook her head and walked towards the stairs. “I mean...” she stammered. There were no words for what she had just witnessed.

“Well, did you like our show?” asked Barrel.

“I, uhh...” said Tap. She decided that the only polite honest answer was “I’d never seen a play before.”

This, however, provoked a horrified reaction from Brother White. His jaw dropped. Oh brother... thought Tap.

“Naw-oh,” said Brother White, “you know something, once our mission is over, the five of us are all going to Equestria and we’re gonna see a musical. Got that?”

“Maybe,” said Tap, “c’mon, Barrel. We’ve got a tavern to run.”

“Oh, okay,” said Barrel, following his sister down the stairs, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, alright?” he asked, looking at the missionaries.

“Sure thing,” said White, before turning to Scroll, “c’mon, let’s get this all packed up.”

“They won’t want it in the way for their executions tomorrow,” said Scroll, in an uncharacteristically sarcastic tone.

White discovered the problem with trunks - just because stuff fits into them one time doesn’t mean it’s always easy to pack in. Sometimes they need to go in the correct order or else it doesn’t close properly.

“How?” he asked out loud, trying to get the curtains folded, “how did we fit them in the first time?”

The curtains were by far the most bulky part.

“I think they were rolled up a certain way,” said Scroll, taking one end and trying to fold it in half. “Maybe we should’ve written this down.”

“Can I help?” asked Clip.

“No, you just head back to the mission house,” said White, stuffing the fake wings into the trunk. “This might... take a while.”

“Oh, okay,” said Clip, leaving. He’d be safe, they figured. He knew his way around.

“I feel embarrassed...” said Scroll, when they were alone. “I don’t think I did very well...”

“Oh, pah,” said White, smiling, “you’re fine. You just need to be more confident. Tell ya what, when we get back to the mission house, I’ll give you a few pointers on improvising musical numbers. Sound good?”

“Yeah...” said Scroll, nodding, “that sounds really good.”

“Good, now if we can just... URGH!” he grunted, finally closing the door on the trunk, “now we can go.”

They pulled the wagon back along the road to the mission house. The sky was grey and the roads were completely empty. White looked around, feeling somewhat depressed.

“Overcast,” he said, “never gives the best feeling...” he looked at Scroll. Scroll had stopped walking, his feet frozen to the ground. “Scroll?”

“Overcast,” said Scroll, “you just said it’s overcast.”

“...yeah?”

“This island consists entirely of earth ponies,” said Scroll. “How is it overcast?”

---

Chapter 9

White and Scroll ran back to the mission house. The town had always seemed decayed, but now it looked like a ghost town - the streets were empty and the sky was grey. This was particularly troubling - all of the ponies on Earthquake Island were earth ponies, so that left the question: how was the sky grey?

White ran through the doors, followed by Scroll, who shut them. “Pegasi...” he said, “what’re we gonna do?”

“Okay, okay...” panted Brother White, “we can do something... we’ve got the earth ponies here, and the pegasi up there, and we can...”

“What’rewegonnado?” asked Scroll, “What if they start fighting?”

BOOM!

Scroll cringed.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“Oh no, we’re doomed...” moaned Scroll.

“What’s that?” asked White, cautiously walking towards the door, “it sounds like... bigger guns?”

“Cannons,” Scroll said feebly, as they continued to fire, “much bigger guns.”

“Oh...” said White.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no...” Scroll groaned, pacing back and forth, “what do we do?”

“Calm down, Scroll...”

“Calm down? They’ve already started shooting!” said Scroll frantically, “we’ve walked right into a horrible race war! We, we...” Scroll started wheezing. “I’m hyperventilating again...”

“We just need to think...” said White. He sat down, and tried to clear his head. As he did this, however, something else occurred to him. “Clip?” he asked.

There was no response. “Clip?” he asked again, “are you alright?”

Scroll looked up, an expression of horror on his face.

“Clip?” asked White, running to the kitchen. He wasn’t there, nor was he in the bathroom, the bunk room, the storage room, or any room.

“He... he didn’t get back?” asked Scroll.

“We have to find him!” exclaimed White.

Outside, the cannons continued to roar. “C’mon!” shouted White, bolting out the doors. Scroll was so surprised that he didn’t even move, he just stammered to himself before following. “White, wait!”

“Clip! CLIP!” shouted White, looking down the streets. They were still empty, but he could see some faces peering from behind windows. As the cannons continued to roar, he looked up and saw them, mounted high on walls, ponies in strange uniforms tending to them - soldiers.

The sounds of the firing cannons split their ears - they’d never heard anything as loud. They thought that the guns were loud, but that was nothing compared to this. The closest they could compare it to was a storm. Scroll remembered the first time he heard a storm. The thunder terrified him and his parents were there to assure him that the world wasn’t about to end.

He wished he had his parents with him now.

White continued calling for “CLIP!” as they ran through the town, trying to shout through the sounds of cannon-fire. Out of the corner of his eye, Scroll spotted that familiar curtain - the makeshift door. He felt something wrench in his heart.

“Tap!” he yelled, running into the tavern.

“CLIP! Huh?” asked White, stopping. “Scroll, what’re you-?”

Scroll burst through the curtain, into the tavern. It was completely vacant, but with bottles and cups strewn all over the place, like they’d all left in a hurry. The fire was extinguished, leaving no sounds by the cannons outside. “Tap?” he asked, “Tap!”

“Scroll!” shouted White, running in after him. “What’re you doing?”

“Tap!” said Scroll, “Tap and Barrel - where are they?”

“They’re probably hiding or something...” said White.

“But-!”

“Calm down, Scroll...” said White, putting a hoof on his shoulder, “I’m sure they’ll be fine...”

There was a clicking sound. Scroll spun around. A door near the back of the room was opening...

“What are you two doing here?” asked Tap.

“Tap!” shouted Scroll, running towards her, to her great surprise. He stammered, “I-I-I saw the sky and then I heard the cannons and then I worried about, well...” he stopped talking. He pawed the floor nervously as Tap looked at him.

Barrel peeked up from the stairwell, eyeing Scroll suspiciously. There he was, sitting and fidgeting with those glasses of his again.

“We’re hiding in the cellar,” said Tap, “I’d suggest you find someplace to hide, too.”

“We can’t find Clip,” said White, cutting in. “Have either of you seen him since the play today? Have you?”

“No, we haven’t,” said Tap, “we thought he went with you.”

“Ohh, oh no...” said White, “that was stupid... we shouldn’t have let him out of our sight!”

“You gotta get down here!” called Barrel, “There’s no telling when they’ll hit!”

“But what’s going on?” asked White, “Are the pegasi attacking?”

“Well, duh...” said Tap. “C’mon, there’s no time-”

“Uhh...” said Scroll, looking up at the ceiling. “How...” his voice was very quiet, “how long has this building been up?”

“Huh?” asked Barrel.

“I mean, look...” Scroll said, lifting a hoof to look at the ceiling, “I mean, uh, I don’t- I don’t know a whole lot about architecture, but, um, those beams, they, uh, they don’t look quite...”

Brother White looked up. He’d never noticed it before, but the ceiling seemed rather clear - there were less wooden beams up there than he’d expected. He got what Scroll meant - the building didn’t seem well-supported. If the pegasi were going to bring in a storm...

“That’s why we’re getting into the cellar,” Tap groaned.

“No! Listen!” said Scroll, his eyes wild with panic, “I don’t think it’s safe here. If the building collapses, you, you could be trapped! Listen... come stay at the mission house.”

“The mission house?” Tap asked, an eyebrow raised.

“They won’t attack it,” said Scroll.

“How do you know that?” asked Brother White.

“Because I don’t think the Fraternity’s ever needed to rebuild it,” said Scroll, pacing back and forth, “I mean, if they attacked it, they... we’re missionaries, that’d be some kind of crime, right?”

“I don’t think that’d stop them...” responded a cynical Tap.

“But they haven’t!” said Scroll, “And Brother Sky should be with the pegasi, he...” he stopped, “we need to find Brother Sky.”

“What?” asked Tap.

“Brother Sky, if we can find him-”

“Scroll, soon the town’s gonna be filled with pegasi, and there’ll be a storm. They’re going to have guns.”

“Look, guys,” said White, trying to butt in, “we can’t just stand there. You three, get to the mission house. Scroll’s right, it should be safe.”

“B-but,” stammered Scroll, “what’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna find Clip,” said White. “And use the bathroom.”

The cannons stopped firing. The four of them looked up intently. There was dead silence.

“White, I...” whispered Scroll, “White, I’m frightened...”

“Listen, Scroll...” said White, “I want you, Tap, and Barrel to gallop all the way to the mission house. Shut the door, and stay in. I’ll be back.”

“Do you promise?” asked Scroll.

“I promise. Now go. I’ll be back with Clip,” said White, “after I use the bathroom...”

“Huh?” asked Scroll.

“Just go!”

Scroll bolted out of the door, followed by Tap and Barrel. That left White completely alone in the tavern.

The silence was frightening. The tavern was eerily still, and White almost felt that he would’ve felt better with the rhythm of cannon-fire. White quickly trotted to the bathroom. He had to find Clip, but sometimes nature calls, and nothing can adequately drown out that feeling of “I need to go.”

He didn’t like that bathroom, though. It was dirty and smelly and the walls were covered in crude drawings of genitalia. He walked into the stall, sealing the bolt with a clink! He was just about the sit down when the ground shook, sending him to the floor.

Earthquake Island, he realized. He remembered when the general came to the mission house, and he stomped his foot on the floor. He froze. General Quake was strong enough to make the whole island shake, just by stomping his feet. He realized another thing - the cannons had stopped firing, but there were still loud bangs going on outside - gunfire.

He was scared, now. He realized he didn’t really want to use the bathroom anymore. He needed to get out, and he was about to leave, when he noticed something in the toilet. He walked up to it. It was a very simple facility - no plumbing, just a big dark hole that went down into a pit. But there was something shiny down there. Had someone dropped a piece of jewelry or something? He looked at it, and found that it seemed to be glowing brighter. And even over the gunshots, White could hear that there was a growing hum.

Then there was a blinding flash of light, and White found himself stumbling backwards. And then in front of him there appeared a stallion - a unicorn stallion. White stared at him. He seemed to be dressed in armor, and there was a gun floating in front of him. In all his confusion, White seemed to be able to guess what it was - it was a soldier. A soldier who then spotted him.

“Hey!” the unicorn said, “What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” White said in an outrageously high-pitched voice, slowing standing back up, “What are you doing here?”

“How’d you get ahead of me?” demanded the soldier.

“What?” asked White, his face plastered with a distraught expression of confusion.

“Oh, nevermind, just get outta my-”

There was another flash of light, and the soldier stumbled forward, bumping into White, who backed into the stall door. Another soldier had appeared.

“Hey, what’s the hold-up?” asked the second soldier.

“Don’t look at me!” said the first soldier.

“I just wanted to use the bathroom...” moaned White.

Another flash of light, and another soldier came in.

“What gives?!”

“This dumbass is holding us up!”

White was now nearly pressed against the door, as a bathroom stall is not a great deal of room for four stallions. Another flash of light raised the number to five stallions. Now White was pressed against the wall, the first stallion face-to-face with him.

“Open the door!” the first soldier yelled.

“Hey, what’s the- woooooah!” shouted the fifth stallion. An accompanying splash and an “eeeugh!” indicated that he had just fallen down the toilet.

“Why are we in a bathroom?” asked one of the soldiers.

“I dunno, I didn’t set these things up!” shouted another.

Brother White was beginning to see why it would’ve been a better idea to do what he was supposed to do, rather than stopping by the bathroom. It was one of those things that seemed like a good idea at first, until it was actually carried out. Granted, White didn’t actually get to carry it out. Now he didn’t really want to use the bathroom.

The ground shook, causing all the stallions to shout in alarm.

“Fuck it!” said the first soldier, regaining his bearings, taking his gun, and slamming the butt against the lock, breaking it. White fell down onto the floor as the soldiers scrambled over him, not being particularly careful about where they placed their hooves.

White, having narrowly avoided being trampled to death, looked up and saw them running into the tavern. White followed them, cautiously - before he could enter into the main room, however, he spotted an earth pony sticking his head through the curtain-door.

“UNIC-” he began to shout, but was cut off when one of the unicorn soldiers shot him dead. There was the sound of more voices shouting.

“Shit!” said one of the unicorns, “Take cover!”

The unicorn soldiers took cover - behind tables, stairs, the counter, and earth pony soldiers started running in through the door.

Brother White couldn’t bear to look. He just retreated into the bathroom and sat in a corner, his hooves over his ears. This didn’t block out the roar of gunfire as the tavern turned into a full-blown shoot-out. All he could think about was how awful it was, and how much he wished he could just find Clip, and go back home and be with Scroll...

The gunshots stopped. He looked up, taking his hooves from his ears. He looked towards the door of the bathroom - the earth pony soldiers were coming in. Then he heard a grunting, coming from the bathroom stall.

“Ugh...” said the unicorn soldier, trying to climb out. When he finally managed to half-way pull himself out, he looked up and saw the earth pony soldiers. “Aww, shit...” he said, before one of the soldiers put a bullet in his head and sent him right back down.

“Well, well, lookie who’s here!” said one of the earth pony soldiers, spotting Brother White huddled in the corner. “If it isn’t our faggy white missionary pal.”

“...hi,” said Brother White, weakly, as one of the soldiers walked up to him, carrying a rifle in his mouth. The soldier turned his head and smacked White with the butt of the gun, knocking him onto the floor. The soldier placed the gun down, letting the barrel lean against his shoulder.

“Whatcha doing in here?” asked the soldier, mockingly, “here in the bathroom behind them horners?”

“Nothin’...” groaned Brother White.

“Y’know what I think we got here, boys?” asked the same soldier, looking at his pals, “I think we got us a spy!”

White’s face shot up. “Huh?”

The soldier grabbed him by the shoulder with his mouth, picked him up, and shoved him against the wall. “Just what are the chances that our resident horner shows up in the same room as a whole lot of un-resident horners? Hm?”

White couldn’t believe this. “I-I-I-I-I-I...” he stammered, sounding a lot like Brother Scroll.

“No, take your time,” said the soldier as his compatriots laughed, “I know you guys are clever bastards, I wanna see how you try to explain this.”

“L-look, it’s not what it looks like...” the unicorn tried to explain, “I came in here to use the bathroom, and they just start... they start coming in.”

The earth pony released him and turned around. White felt very relieved, when

THUD!

The soldier had bucked him, knocking the wind out of him. White stumbled to the floor again.

“Not good enough!” jeered one of the other soldiers.

“I’m telling the truth!” protested White, before finding himself staring down the barrel of the gun.

“Wonderful for you,” said the soldier, preparing to pull the trigger, when a dull humming sound started. He took his mouth off the trigger. “What’s that?”

White gulped, “I think there’s more.”

There was a flash of light from the stall, but none of them could see what had appeared. Except, of course, for the earth pony nearest the door, who was gaping in terror. “Oh shit!”

The earth pony didn’t even bother raising his gun, he just turned tail and ran out of the bathroom. The other soldiers, not getting why he had been terrified, readied their weapons.

“Oh, what now...” asked the soldier nearest to White, turning around. Then his eyes widened. “Oh fuck...”

Out of the stall stepped a tall unicorn stallion. His coat was a deep purple color, and he was wearing armor. Though his flank was covered, the armor had a gold crown painted on it. White’s eyes were drawn to the unicorn’s horn - only the princesses had bigger ones.

“Fire, you idiots!” shouted the first soldier, as the other earth ponies started firing. The unicorn smirked as his horn glowed, and a bubble encased him. The gunshots weren’t hurting him, and he nonchalantly walked right out of the bathroom.

Something funny happened: White found himself lifted off of the floor, surrounded by a similar bubble, and he found himself floating through the air, after the other unicorn. One of the soldiers stopped firing and just stared at the sight. The bubble kept White from being harmed by the bullets, but it also seemed to dull the sound of the firing, as though everything were muted by a thick wall made out of pillows. The experience was all the more surreal when White could still see the soldiers firing and swearing at the two of them.

“Well, you aren’t going to thank me for saving your life?” asked a voice, causing White to jump. He was startled by how loud and clear it was, and then he looked over at the purple unicorn. “Well?”

It was a deep voice, with what White could’ve sworn was some kind of English accent.

“Umm...” said White, a bit too dumbfounded to speak coherently.

“What’s the matter?” asked the unicorn, looking at him. “Say...” his eyes scanned the floating white unicorn, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

White was just staring at the purple unicorn, so much that he hadn’t noticed that several earth ponies had poured into the tavern, knocking down tables, taking cover behind them, and firing.

“They’re still shooting at us,” White said rapidly.

“Ah,” said the purple pony, acknowledging the attackers for the first time. He gave a smirk that White found profoundly unsettling, and his horn glowed brighter. There were several pop!ping sounds, and White saw that the bottles on the shelves were blowing their own corks off, and the liquor was flying out. There was a crash as several kegs on the side of the room burst open. The door to the cellar flew open as well as a river of booze poured in. The torrent of alcohol drenched all of the soldiers in the room, who couldn’t even continue firing. One of the soldiers slipped in a puddle, which prompted White to laugh. The other unicorn gave a low chuckle himself, and a spark flew from his horn.

It touched one of the soldiers, who was promptly set on fire. The alcohol that had now drenched the other soldiers was also lit, and in the space of a few seconds, half of the tavern was set ablaze.

White’s face turned from an expression of amusement to one of horror as the soldiers screamed, flailing around and desperately trying to grab their guns. The purple unicorn, however, used his magic to grab a shotgun from one of the soldiers, and promptly shot him in the head. The gun proceeded to float through the room, shooting the burning soldiers one by one, until one of them tried to bolt for the door. The unicorn smirked. One more blast from the shotgun, and he dropped dead at the doorway. The curtain caught flame.

“Now then,” said the unicorn, dropping the bubble, leaving White to land painfully on his rear, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced...”

White didn’t even let out a grunt as he landed. He was just staring in horror at the stallion who had massacred an entire roomful of soldiers and set the tavern on fire. He couldn’t say anything - the smell of burning flesh and liquor filled his nostrils, and it was making him ill, but he didn’t take his eyes off of the unicorn. He knew that it was...

“General Monarch,” said the unicorn, “now, what’s a fine young stallion like yourself doing down here with the dirts?”

White didn’t say anything. There was no sound but the roaring fire.

“Well?” asked the general.

“You... you killed them,” said White, scooting backwards on his rear, terrified.

“‘They’re shooting at us,’ ‘you killed them,’” repeated Monarch, “you seem very talented at stating the obvious.”

White still didn’t say anything, either because he was scared, or because the smoke was starting to make him cough.

There was a crash of thunder from outside. Monarch looked up, as though surprised for the first time. “Well,” he said, “that would be my cue to leave.” He looked back at White. “Care to come along with?”

White choked a little and shook his head.

“Suit yourself,” said Monarch, vanishing in a blink of light, leaving Brother White alone in a tavern that was now half on fire.

___________

Scroll, Tap, and Barrel had managed to make it back to the mission house just as the unicorns had started teleporting in. Scroll was the last in, and he shut the door, but he couldn’t help but watch through the bulletholes.

“Why are there unicorns?” asked Scroll, “I thought this was a pegasus thing.”

“Cowards,” spat Tap, “must’ve decided to get a cheap shot.”

Unicorns were rushing out of buildings, wielding guns and other strange weapons that Scroll wasn’t able to identify from comic books. Earth ponies, also carrying guns, were on rooftops and in the streets. The two groups were firing at each other, with ponies dropping dead like flies. One of the unicorns took something off of his armor, like some kind of ball, and flung it with his magic at a group of earth ponies. It exploded, setting a nearby building on fire, and killing the earth ponies.

The ground and the building shook and Scroll stumbled away from the door. It was just as well - he couldn’t take it. He backed away and slumped against the wall.

“Oh no, oh no no no no... this is awful,” he said, going into another one of his fretful fits. The rain of gunfire was going off, and he started fidgeting with his hooves.

“You probably should consider getting a lock on that door...” said Tap.

“What about White? How is he gonna get back? How long will he take?” asked Scroll, “What if he can’t find Clip? What if... what if...?” His voice stammered and trailed off as he considered the horrifying possibilities, his breathing growing more rapid. He was close to hyperventilating again.

“Scroll!” shouted Tap. This seemed to snap him out of his fit of panic, as his head snapped over in her direction. “Listen, there’s nothing we can do. All we can do is sit tight and hope that White makes it out alright.”

“But I...”

“Scroll, please,” she said, walking over to him, “calm down...”

Scroll gulped and took a few deep breaths. “I’m just... I’m just so worried...”

“I understand, Scroll,” said Tap, sitting down next to him, “just calm down...”

Scroll took a few more breaths, shuddering a little. Barrel stepped over to the side of the room, watching the two suspiciously. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like that Scroll had just barged into their home and demanded they come here, he didn’t like the way he was acting around Tap, and he wasn’t comfortable with the way Tap was acting towards him.

The gunshots stopped, and Scroll nervously opened the door just in time to see General Quake - he was wearing thick armor and had various threatening-looking guns fastened to his sides. He was in the middle of fighting with a unicorn soldier. The general turned around surprisingly quickly and bucked at the unicorn soldier, tearing his head right off and sending it flying right at the door. Scroll was so horrified that he just stood there, frozen, until it struck him on the head.

He stumbled back, dazed from the blow.

“What happened?” asked Barrel.

“There’s a head...” said Scroll groggily, “there’s a...” he looked down at the floor, and the terrible sight snapped him out of it. “THERE’S A FUCKING HEAD!”

He scrambled, going up against the wall and curling into a fetal position. He let out some sort of unintelligible whimper and started rocking himself back and forth.

“Uhh...” said Barrel, “he okay?”

“Not really...” said Tap, gingerly kicking the head out the door, which she promptly shut. “We’ll just have to sit here and wait it out, like we always do.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t just stay in the cellar...” said Barrel.

“C-c-c-c--cc-couldn’t risk it c-c-c-c-c-collapsing...” stammered Scroll, as though he were freezing, before looking up at them, “I d-didn’t want you to g-get hurt if you got tr...trapped or something... you’re my friends.”

The silence was ended by a crash of thunder. This seemed to snap Scroll out of his cringing stupor (again).

“I need to find White,” he said quietly.

“Huh?” Barrel asked, as Scroll scrambled to get up.

“Scroll, what’re you...” started Tap.

“WHITE, I’M COMING!” shouted Scroll, throwing the doors open and running down the street. Tap and Barrel weren’t able to react in time.

“Scroll!” Tap shouted from the doorway, “You’ll get yourself killed!”

“I don’t care!” Scroll yelled back.

The skies were no longer simply overcast - they were black, tumultuous and rumbling. The streets were littered with the corpses of earth ponies and unicorns alike.

“White?” he called, “WHITE!”

Terrible thoughts flashed through his head - if unicorns were attacking, what if that meant White was a target? If the earth ponies had turned on White, he didn’t know what he’d do, or how he’d be able to cope.

In his panic, he ran down the most familiar path, which went right past the tavern, which was now on fire. He couldn’t even see through the doorway, as there was a huge, rank-smelling column of flame blocking his view. His jaw dropped - his intuition to get Tap and Barrel out of there had been completely justified. On the other hoof...

“WHITE!” he shouted, running towards the door.

Inside, White could hear the shouting. “Scroll!” he called back.

“What are you doing in there?!” shouted Scroll. “Hold on, I’m coming to get you!”

“No!” shouted White back. “Scroll, get back to the mission house!”

“What about you?” Scroll called, “How are you gonna get out of there?”

“Umm...” White said, too quietly for Scroll to to hear. He looked around. The door was blocked by the flames. Maybe he could go upst- no, that was on fire, too. He backed up, and the grave reality of the situation hit him - he was in a burning building. He took a deep breath, sweating. “Okay, Scroll, listen,” he called out again, “I... I’ll find some way out of...” his eyes caught something: the bathroom. There was no fire there. “Scroll, don’t worry, I think I can find a way out of here!”

There was the sound of gunshots from outside.

“Oh no...” said Scroll, looking up at the sky. He could see shapes descending from the clouds above - pegasus ponies, and lots of them, and the earth ponies were shooting up at them. “They’re coming!”

“Scroll! Get out of there!” shouted White.

Scroll didn’t need to be told twice, as the corpse of a pegasus soldier hit the ground in front of him with a SPLAT! He turned around and galloped as fast as he could. Unfortunately, the direction he ran in was away from the mission house.

Inside the tavern, White ran for the bathroom. He heard a crashing sound as part of the ceiling collapsed in the main room. He ran to the stall and looked down. It was a deep pit, and he could make out the corpse of the unicorn soldier. Taking a deep, nervous breath, had got up on the can and jumped down.

Scroll continued running as fast as his legs could carry him, the sounds of gunshots and cannonfire filling his ears. He noticed, however, something odd - around his feet, there were little plumes of dust coming up...

His heart went stone-cold. Oh, fuck, he thought, they’re shooting at me!

He stopped for an instant, and it was only blind luck that ensured he didn’t die right there. Doing the smart thing, he ran into a nearby building and shut the door. He looked around frantically for something - anything heavy he could use to barricade the door. He seemed to be in some kind of shop, but the merchandise was all put away - the shopkeeper must’ve hid his wares and hidden. He spotted a table. He scurried behind it and pushed it up to the door. Praying that it would be enough to keep the soldiers at bay, he backed up and huddled in a corner.

He stared at the door. Anypony trying to get in would have to get through the...

He noticed something funny on the door. The hinges, mainly. He then watched, frozen, as the door swung open to the outside.

“Helloooo?” called the young stallion, peering in. He was a pegasus pony, dressed in the same soldier getup as the other ponies - not like the pristine, ceremonial, regal look of the royal guards back in Equestria, but instead these uniforms were gritty and functional. This soldier had an orange coat and a black mane. “Well, lookie what I’ve found!” he said, spotting Scroll in the corner. He readied a pistol in his mouth. “Wanna keep running?”

Scroll gasped and leaped behind the counter as a gunshot rang out. Scroll didn’t think he’d ever get used to just how loud those things were. Spotting a back door, he made a run for it. Mercifully for him, the orange pegasus soldier was a lousy shot and he managed to swing the door open and shut it without dying.

His heart was pounding almost loud enough for him to drown out the gunshots. This wasn’t a bully beating him up and stealing his lunch money and calling him a faggot. This wasn’t General Quake threatening him. This pony was trying to kill him, and if Scroll couldn’t get away, that was exactly what the soldier would do.

The back door led to an alleyway. Scroll didn’t stop to panic, but he just kept on running. Funnily enough, he didn’t find himself getting worn out, which was fortunate, as he couldn’t afford to stop and think about it.

He didn’t know where he was going. They avoided alleys on their way through town, for two reasons. The first was that they didn’t want to get mugged more than usual. The second was that there just weren’t really a whole lot of doors to knock on. He couldn’t stop and try to figure his direction. He just had to put as much distance between him and the orange soldier as possible, get away from him before he caught up and started shooting again.

Gunshots, cannonfire, and thunder were all crashing in the town around him. The sky was lit with explosions and lightning. It was like a nightmare or a heavy metal concert. The alley led back into a larger, empty lot, when a bolt of lightning struck the ground right next to him. The light nearly blinded him, and the sound of the air exploded almost completely deafened him. He fell to the ground, groaning.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, but when he looked up, he saw two large pairs of metal boots in front of him.

“Well, well,” said a voice. It was a female’s voice - high, cold, clear, and cutting.

Scroll looked up. Standing right in front of him was a tall mare. Her coat was slate grey, with a blue mane and tail. Scroll noticed her mane was cut very short, and she wore an armored uniform, with a lightning bolt on the piece that covered her cutie mark. She was looking down at him, a small smirk on her face.

Scroll looked around - there were other pegasus soldiers flanking her.

“You don’t seem armed, dirt,” said the mare.

Scroll adjusted his glasses. “You’re... you’re General Storm,” he said quietly. General Storm let out a snort in amusement.

He heard the flapping of wings from behind. “I got ‘im!” shouted a familiar voice. Scroll turned his head and saw the orange pegasus who had been shooting at him earlier. He walked up to Scroll, aiming his pistol.

“No, Eagle, you haven’t,” said Storm, “he stumbled right into me. In fact, this guy is so stupid I’m left wondering why you didn’t kill him first!”

“I’m not stupid...” said Scroll.

“Shut up, I’m talking,” snapped Storm. She looked back down at him. “Now, then, what exactly is a soldier doing out here without a weapon?”

“Um...” said Scroll, confused, “I’m not a soldier.”

“Ohhhhh,” said Storm, nodding, “awful big for a young colt, aren’t you?”

“Umm...”

“No, wait...” she said, “you’re an adult?”

“Kinda...” said Scroll, looking around. The other soldiers were laughing.

“Eagle,” said Storm, looking at the orange pegasus, “what exactly was this young pony doing when you found him?”

“Hiding, sir,” responded Eagle. The general grinned at this.

“Well, boys,” said Storm, turning to her soldiers, “it looks like what we have here is...” he threw a mocking grin at Scroll, “a civilian.”

She turned back to her soldiers. “Kill him.” There were several clicking sounds as the guns were cocked. Scroll had to do something fast.

“WAIT!” Scroll shouted. General Storm turned around, sporting a very annoyed expression.

“Wait?” she asked, walking up to him. “We don’t ‘wait,’ you miserable little pile of manure. We fly. We fly, and if you can’t keep up, then that’s just too bad.”

Scroll realized - for a mare, she was surprisingly big - taller than he was. He found himself backing against a wall as this general advanced on him.

“There you are, backing away!” she said, her head locked against his, “And hiding, earlier. You know what you are, you little dirt?” She asked, her voice dripping with disgust.

Scroll tried to stammer something out, but he seemed to have lost his voice. Storm swung her front hoof, and the metal boot collided with Scroll’s head. There was a loud clang and a dull clink as Scroll’s glasses broke and he fell to the ground, dazed.

“YOU’RE A COWARD!” General Storm roared. She lowered her head to his. “You see...” she lowered her voice, “we on my Stormcloud-”

“Do you all name your towns after yourselves?” asked a groggy Scroll.

“Shut up,” snapped Storm, “we have standards. If you don’t meet those standards, then you’re worthless. And we all understand this.” She turned to the soldiers. “Right boys?”

“Right, sir!”

Then, Scroll remembered Clip. They threw him off the cloud... he thought. Slowly, he got up.

“Furthermore...” continued General Storm, walking away from him, “we don’t like cowards. Snivelly little whiners who run and hide from a fight.” She looked back at Scroll. “And glasses. He wears glasses, too.”

She looked at her soldiers.

“Well?” she asked, “Why’d you put your guns down?”

There was a chorus of clicks coming from the soldiers. Scroll was more or less completely out of options.

“General,” said one pegasus, who seemed uneasy, “I don’t know if-”

“Don’t know if what, Sky?” asked the general. Scroll’s head shot up, looking at the blue pegasus. Unfortunately, as he had no glasses, he couldn’t make out Sky’s expression, and Sky didn’t say anything. “Guess that answered whatever question, then?” she asked, when Sky didn’t answer back.

General Storm turned back to face Scroll. “Ready,” she began, “aim...”

“Look! General Quake!” Scroll shouted, pointing behind them.

Hilariously, General Storm and all of the pegasus soldiers whirled around, looking for the earth pony general. Scroll wasted no time and bolted for the nearest open door. A few of the soldiers caught wise and started shooting at him, but Scroll managed to shut the door before any of them got a good aim on him.

“Son of a bitch!” spat Storm. There was a crash of thunder, and rain started pouring down. General Storm looked up. “About time,” she said, “forget about him. Move out!” The general and the soldiers took off into the air, flying low, out of the alley and back into the streets, save for one soldier.

Eagle was intent on following Scroll through that door.

___________

The tavern, along with a few other buildings, was completely up in flames. Soon enough, the building could not sustain itself, and it collapsed. Once again, Tap and Barrel were left without a home.

White was safe, if extraordinarily ill, in the pit beneath the bathroom. He had to share that space with a week’s worth of manure, urine, and a newly dead corpse.

He found himself thinking it might’ve been a better idea to simply run through the burning doorway. He was stirred from these thoughts, however, when a drop of water hit him on the nose. He looked up and could see clouds from above. He grinned - he’d been right. He’d made a phenomenally stupid decision on the spur of the moment, and he’d been completely right.

Slowly and painfully, he climbed the walls of the pit, just like he assumed the late soldier had done. Rain was pouring down, and he eagerly welcomed the cool ammonia-free water. It’d be just like a shower. He reached the toilet, and stuck his head out, gasping for fresh air at last.

He looked around - water was pouring down everywhere, and he could make out the shapes of moving ponies. The sounds of gunshots, cannons, and thunder were all around him, and he sat there, hanging from a toilet bowl, like the central character of some terrible absurdist play.

He saw one familiar figure, though: the hulking form of General Quake, except this time he wasn’t just a big brown stallion. He was decked in armor bristling with all manner of guns. He remembered what Scroll said about how there were different kinds of guns - revolvers and rifles and shotguns and such, and White could only stare and wonder just how there could be that much variety for a single function.

General Quake was stomping the ground, making the whole island shake (White nearly fell right back down into the shit pit). The guns were blazing, and pegasi dropped out of the sky in bloody piles.

“GENERAL QUAKE!” shouted a voice, cutting through the sounds of warfare. White’s eyes were drawn to a pegasus mare wearing metal boots - General Storm.

She was flying, and with a smirk on her face, she lifted her front hooves and banged them together. White squinted - he could have sworn he saw a spark come from those boots. General Quake spun around to face Storm, just as Storm hurled a massive lightning bolt at him.

Quake jumped out of the way of the bolt as it missed him and hit a wooden cart, which was promptly reduced to a smoldering pile of ash. Quake responded by blazing his guns, trying to shoot Storm out of the sky, but she was fast and ducked into the window of a nearby building. One tube attached to General Quake’s side launched something into the window, which was followed by an explosion that engulfed the room in fire. Quake intently watched the room. After a wait, Storm appeared on top of the roof and threw another lightning bolt, which Quake dodged.

White now understood just why these ponies were generals. Jerked to his senses by the second lightning bolt, the unicorn pulled himself out of the toilet and ran through the rain.

If there was one thing that comforted him, it was the fact that the rain could be just like a shower. Unfortunately, now the situation was worse - how could he possibly hope to find Clip?

He ducked into a dark corner where he was sure that nopony would shoot at him. He had the distinct impression that the pegasus ponies didn’t like unicorns any more than the earth ponies did, and the earth ponies didn’t need much of an excuse to shoot him.

The rain continued to fall, and he closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. If he could just drown out the sounds of the fighting around him, he might be able to calm down, just enjoy the rain as it hit his cheek and chin...

He opened his eyes. The rain shouldn’t have been hitting there. The wind had picked up, and White stared at the center of town. The pegasus soldiers were there, flying in a circle. White’s eyes widened as he saw a funnel of air form, before touching down. The pegasus soldiers had created a tornado. He watched as the tornado ripped up buildings. He couldn’t understand. Sure, he’d seen tornadoes before, but that was at a Wonderbolts show. They used them as a stunt, and they were completely controlled. The idea that somepony would use a tornado as a weapon was horrific. Then again, in the week he’d been here, he’d found progressively worse forms of “horrific.”

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE!” roared General Quake to his soldiers, “GET THAT THING OUTTA THE SKY!”

White watched as two soldiers marched down the road. One of them was pulling a cart loaded with metal disks, and the other had some bizarre contraption that White didn’t recognize. The second soldier set down the device and constructed what seemed to be some sort of... long thing on a tripod. He went to the cart and took a disk, placing it on one end of the device, before pulling it back.

“Launching!” shouted the soldier, pulling on a lever. The disk flew off the end of the device and at the tornado. As White’s eyes followed it, he could see other disks following. White wondered how, exactly, this was supposed to stop the tornado, but he decided that he needed to get moving. He figured that with most of the soldiers occupied on that thing, he’d be a little safe.

He quietly tip-hoofed around the town, looking for some sign of Clip, but it was useless - he had absolutely nothing to go on. Then, something landed in front of him. He let out a scream - it was a severed wing. He looked up at the tornado. Mutilated, bloody corpses were flying out of it.

That was how the disks were supposed to stop the tornado.

___________

Scroll saw no shame in being a coward. It was difficult for him to feel shame when he was hiding. He was in somepony’s kitchen. Whose kitchen, he had no idea. While he caught his breath, he wondered just where everypony was hiding? Perhaps they all had underground cellars or bunkers like Tap and Barrel. Maybe they were all soldiers, if Storm’s words gave any indication.

He was hiding in a cabinet, with one small knothole that allowed him to peak out. He really found himself wishing that he still had his glasses. There was the sound of hoofsteps, and he saw orange legs walking in front of the knothole.

“Where aaaare you?” asked Eagle in a sing-song voice. “Don’t ya wanna come out? Are you scared?”

Because Scroll wasn’t an idiot, he didn’t answer.

“Hey, man, let’s do this fairly.” There was a dull clinking sound. “No guns. Come at me with your hooves up.”

Again, Scroll wasn’t an idiot.

“Y’know,” said Eagle, “this is my first battle. Gotta say you’re making it pretty memorable. You’re gonna be my first kill, you know that?”

There was a banging sound, and Scroll jumped.

“I know you’re hiding in here, somewhere,” said Eagle. “No way out of here. I’ll find you soon enough. Why don’t you face me like a stallion instead of sitting there like a pansy?”

There was another banging sound, and Scroll’s breathing became heavier. Then the light from the knothole went out. Scroll saw one gold eye looking at him.

“Gotcha.”

One thought occurred to Scroll immediately. Actually, it was less of a thought than it was a reaction. He kicked the door open, knocking Eagle back. Scroll scrambled to try to run past him, but Eagle was much faster than he was. Before Scroll could make it to the door, Eagle cut him off. He reared up onto his hind legs and kicked Scroll in the face, making him stagger backwards.

“Not running away this time!” said Eagle, a sadistic grin on his face. Scroll backed away from the pegasus soldier. The pegasus soldier lunged at him, hitting him twice with his front hooves. “C’mon!” he goaded, hitting him again. “What, it doesn’t hurt enough?”

“Well...” said Scroll, “I’ve had worse...”

Eagle snorted. This was exactly the wrong thing for Scroll to say. He lunged at Scroll, throwing a foreleg around his neck. He spread his wings and the two lifted off of the ground. Scroll flailed and kicked at the air, but it was completely futile. Eagle, however, hit his head on the ceiling and dropped Scroll, who hit the ground with a thud. In the time it took for Eagle to get his head cleared, Scroll managed to bolt out the door again.

Cursing his flagrant incompetence, Eagle followed Scroll out the door into the alleyway. Scroll was galloping as fast as he could - if he could just get to the mission house, it’d be alright. Eagle, however, took off into the air. No matter how fast Scroll could run, he couldn’t outrun somepony who could fly.

Eagle soared above him and then went into a dive, crashing down on him and rubbing his face into the ground. When he lifted his face back up, it was caked with dirt and blood. He gasped for air, and Eagle just hit him again.

Eagle snorted, his brow furrowed. It as was though he was angry at Scroll.

“FIGHT BACK!” Eagle shouted. “FIGHT BACK! You MISERABLE, WORTHLESS little PUSSY!”

“Stop...” Scroll choked. “Please...”

___________

White ran back to the mission house, bursting through the doors. Tap and Barrel had been sitting aimlessly, and they jumped up. White, however, ignored them, and ran towards the desk at the front of the main room. He opened the drawers frantically.

“White!” said Tap, “We were worried that you might’ve...”

“Well I didn’t,” said White, shuffling through miscellaneous junk. “No, not in there...” he looked up. “Where’s Scroll?”

“He, uh...” said Barrel, “He went after you...”

“And he didn’t come back?”

“No,” said Tap, “he didn’t.”

White froze. Then, he suddenly went to the storage closet.

“White?” asked Tap, “What are you doing?”

“Looking... for...” said White, rummaging through a bunch of junk, “AHA!” He exclaimed triumphantly, brandishing a megaphone.

“I don’t think that answered my question...” said Tap quietly as White marched past her, the megaphone floating ahead.

White threw open the doors of the mission house, stepping into the stormy weather. Gunshots, lightning, and cannons were still firing, and many nearby homes were ruined. But White wasn’t deterred. He would never be deterred.

Circling around the back of the mission house, he found some conveniently stacked boxes - exactly what he needed. Gripping the megaphone in his teeth, he climbed up, onto the roof of the mission house.

He stood there, looking at the town. Buildings on fire, rain pouring down, lightning striking, tornadoes, unidentifiable body parts flying through the air...

He looked up to the sky, raised his megaphone, and shouted.

“GENERAL STORM!” his voice boomed, “I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! CALL OFF THE ATTACK!”

The wind picked up, and White took a step back, placing his feet so he wouldn’t lose his standing.

“THAT MEANS YOU, TOO, QUAKE!” he resumed. “STOP THE FIGHTING! STOP THIS ENTIRE WAR!”

He stopped again. He felt rather foolish - he planned to make this big dramatic speech, and when he was about to do it... his mind went completely blank. Then something whizzed right past his ear, before embedding itself in the roof of the building - it was one of the disks.

“NO!” White resumed, “STOP DOING THAT! THAT ALMOST HIT ME!”

Exasperated, he took one deep breath, before screaming at the top of his lungs.

“LISTEN TO ME!”

He felt the wind pick up around him, and he had to duck to keep from being blown off the roof. He clenched his eyes shut, but surprisingly, the wind died down. Cautiously, he opened them again, and drew back in alarm.

The mission house in the center of a swirling column of wind. The eye of the storm, where the air is calmest. He looked up, and he saw several pegasus soldiers on clouds above him, and in the center of them all was General Storm.

White picked up the megaphone. “I’ve got a book for you.”

The pegasus general leaped from the cloud above and landed on the roof with a CLANG!

“Isn’t this a funny sight?” she asked, “I thought you horners cleared out by now. Not like you were able to do a lot with your little sneak attack.” She snorted, amused.

“I’m not with Monarch...” groaned White. General Storm seemed completely uninterested, and continued talking.

“I look forward to having a direct confrontation,” she said, smiling, “I think we’re overdue for that...”

“I want you to call off the attack,” said Brother White, which seemed to get an actual reaction from her.

“What?” she asked.

“I want you to call your soldiers off. Stop the tornadoes and the storm and go away.” White said, gritting his teeth. “Then you come back when you’re ready to make a peaceful cooperation.”

General Storm was dumbstruck. Then her mouth pulled into a smile, and then she started laughing. “Wait, wait a minute... this building is...” she said through fits of laughter. “You’re another one of those Fraternity ponies. Ha!” he looked up at the soldiers above them, “Hey, Sky! One of your friends!”

“Sky?” White asked, looking up. “Sky! Are you up there?” he called.

“Yeah,” called a voice down, from the blue soldier.

“Brother Sky!” White called up, “I-”

“He’s one of my lieutenants,” said General Storm, cutting him off.

“Huh?” asked White.

“He joined us,” she said, walking closer to the unicorn, “not the most... effective soldier,” she said quietly, “but he’s quite useful in certain ways.”

White looked up at Brother Sky, who’d retreated out of sight, and then back to the general. Time for him to stick to his guns.

“Hello,” he said, “my name is Brother White. I’d like you to read our book.”

“No, Brother White,” she said, turning her back on him, “I’ve looked through it, and I can only come to the conclusion that your Fraternity is a collection of pansies. I mean, Fluttershy?” she asked disdainfully, “A pegasus who would lower herself to the level of one of those dirts-”

“Really, what is it with these terrible racial slurs-”

“She could barely even fly. What use would the Stormcloud have for a pony like her?”

“In Equestria,” White said, his eyes narrowed, “we value kindness.”

General Storm chuckled at this. “Kindness? Yeah, I’ll bet you’ve been trying that for a while. How’s that working out for you?”

“I think it’s working out just fine...” said White through his teeth.

“Oh really?” asked General Storm, “Tell me, frat boy, how many new friends you’ve made? How many soldiers have you gotten to throw down their guns and start making fancy floral arrangements? Made any new fillyfriends lately? How about coltfriends?” Her tone grew increasingly mocking. “Maybe you can get one of your friends to wash the stench of shit from your mane. Good fuck, you smell awful. I thought you horners were all about hygiene.”

“Call off the attack,” repeated White.

“Or what?” asked General Storm, “What are you going to do, little horner, if I don’t call off the attack?”

White raised the megaphone. SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

General Storm drew back in alarm, before retaliating. She swatted the device aside with her booted hoof, shattering it, before striking White in the head with the other one. White was knocked down on the roof, and he rolled off of the edge, landing with a thud on the ground below.

General Storm looked up, almost a little nervous - she reacted that way to a unicorn with a megaphone. Not very dignified. She straightened her posture. “Boys, we sacked some food?”

“Yes, sir!” called a soldier from above. “Managed to break into a few storehouses!”

“Good!” said the general. “Let’s get ready to move out!”

___________

Scroll couldn’t do anything but cringe, shielding his body with his legs, as Eagle struck him again and again. Scroll’s face was a mess, sporting a severely bloody nose, a black eye, and several cuts and scrapes. His body was covered in bruises, and he was drenched in water and dirt.

Eagle’s breathing was labored, like he was almost winded, but he still had a grin on your face. “Still not fighting back?” he asked, “What, you get off to this or somethin’? Well, that’s fine. I can keep this up all day!”

Scroll backed up against a wall.

“What’s the matter, pal?” asked Eagle, advancing on him, “I thought you liked this. I mean, you sure aren’t doing anything to stop me, so...” He laughed.

There was the sound of a trumpet, and both the earth pony and the pegasus looked up.

“Back to the cloud!” called a soldier from above.

“But I didn’t even...” Eagle complained. He looked at Scroll, then started fishing through his uniform, looking for his gun. It wasn’t there, however, because he’d left it in the house back there. “Well, you’re one lucky little pussy,” he snorted, “but next time, you’re fucking dead.”

Eagle spread his wings and took off into the air. The rain slowed to a more comfortable pitter rather than a patter, and the gunshots slowly died off. Scroll sat there, snivelling and doing his best to hold off tears. He took a deep breath and made a nervous laugh. He had the shit beat out of him, but he was alive, at least. The worst was over, or at least he hoped so. He slowly got up and limped out of the alley.

___________

“Is he alright?”

“I think so, I mean... he’s breathing...”

“Look! His eyes!”

White’s eyes fluttered awake, and he saw Tap and Barrel standing over him. He was back in the mission house, in the lower bunk.

“Hi...” he said groggily.

“You had us worried there,” said Tap, who was holding an ice pack to his head. “We weren’t sure you were still going to be alive. General Storm did a number on you.”

Brother White slowly sat up. “My head...”

“Yeah, that,” said Barrel.

Brother White groaned. Then he remembered something. “Where’s Scroll?” he asked in alarm.

“Right next to you,” said Tap, nodding. White turned and saw Scroll was lying in bed next to him, asleep. “You’ll probably want to wash the sheets...”

“What happened to him?!” White asked, seeing how beat up Scroll was. This seemed to wake him up enough to groan.

“Bullies happen...” Scroll said sleepily.

“He just sort of... walked in here and fell down,” said Barrel.

“We dragged both of you into bed,” said Tap, “and we got these ice things out of your fridge. What were you two thinking?”

White paused. “Umm...”

“You weren’t,” said Tap flatly. “Listen, next time there’s an attack, you hide, like the rest of us.”

“Pegasus don’t like hiding,” murmured Scroll, “called me a pussy...”

“Your, um...” said White, turning to Tap. It wasn’t easy to say. “Your house burned down.”

“Again?” asked Barrel.

“Yeah, the unicorns came out of the toilet...” said White.

“Well, we’ll just have to build another one,” said Tap, “like we’ve done before. A lot of the ponies will have to rebuild houses. It doesn’t take too long - we’re all used to it.”

“Tap...” said Scroll, turning towards them, but not sitting up, “You can stay with us.”

“I...” said Tap.

“We’re always open,” said White, “I mean, until you get the new tavern up, you’ll need to stay here.”

“I dunno...” said Tap, shaking her head.

“Please...?” asked Scroll.

“Well...” said Tap, looking around to the three faces in the room. “Oh, alright,” she relented.

White lay back down on the bed, before shooting back up. “Wait!” he said, “We forgot Clip!”

“I’m here!” called a voice from the top bunk. White looked up, and saw the little pink colt stick his head from over the top.

“You...” said White, “where were you?!”

“I was in here, hiding,” said Clip. “Up here.”

White was dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you respond when I called?”

“I dunno...” said Clip. “I couldn’t hear you, I guess. I was hiding under the pillow.”

White’s face went completely blank, and he fell back down on the bed. His face went into a grin, and he started laughing.

---

Chapter 10

It was the dead of night, and Scroll was in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He was an absolute mess, all bruised and beat up. He remembered how in school bullies used to pick on him, but they usually left him alone after they’d taken his lunch money or suspended him from a flagpole. Turning on the water, he dunked his head under the faucet.

He took his head out and shook it, spraying water everywhere. He looked back in the mirror. Now he was a wet absolute mess, but at least he felt better. He took a case and put it on the edge of the sink, opening it. In it were several pairs of glasses, a small contact lenses container, and a monocle. He took out a pair of glasses and put them on his face. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, and he smiled. He still looked like a mess, but... well, there really wasn’t anything that mitigated it. He and his friends were safe, he supposed...

Friends. He had actual friends now.

He walked out of the bathroom, and back into the bunk room. Clip was snuggled up in the bottom bunk, and Barrel was snoring in the top bunk. Tap had been sleeping on a bench in the main room, and White and Scroll had set up a blanket and pillows on the floor.

Except the blanket seemed to have been pushed aside - White wasn’t there.

“White?” Scroll whispered. No response.

He walked over to the door and opened it, peering out.

Since General Storm’s forces had left, the clouds had left the sky, leaving the full moon and starlight to illuminate town. The night sky was not completely pristine, however. There was a column of smoke coming from the center of the town - a bonfire, to get rid of the bodies of the enemy dead.

He looked around and saw a solitary white figure walking down the road, heading in the direction of the docks. He followed slowly, not saying anything, as the unicorn went down.

The streets were filthy, littered with blood, spent bullet casings, and debris. The docks were almost completely smashed - the pegasus ponies realized that the earth ponies relied on trade, so with no place for ships to land, it’d make the recovery that much more difficult.

White walked out as far as he could and sat down, staring at the sea. There were no sounds save for the waves of the ocean churning. Scroll walked up next to White and looked at him.

“It seems so far away, doesn’t it?” asked White. “Back home. Like it doesn’t exist, and we’ve woken up from a dream and been yanked out of a very comfy bed.”

“I know what you mean,” said Scroll, sitting down. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I’m waiting for the morning,” said White. “It’s hard,” he confessed, “it’s hard to go on believing in friendship and harmony when you see stuff like this. When you see ponies who will kill each other over... over nothing. When you see them living in squalid conditions and cursing each other and not caring if the pony next to them lives or dies. But as bleak and as terrible as everything is, I think that if I can see the sunrise...” he took a breath, “I can know that everything I believe is true.”

“Can I sit with you?” asked Scroll.

“Sure. You kinda already are.”

“Thanks...” said Scroll. He followed White’s gaze out at nothing in particular.

“You know... I know what you mean.” said Scroll. “Sometimes I don’t know if we can really win. I don’t know if the... if the friendship stuff is really true enough to help everypony here. I don’t really know how much I believe in it. But... I believe in you, White.”

“Well, thanks,” said White, “that means a lot to me.”

There was a shout from in the town, near the bonfire. The Brothers ignored this and just looked out at the dark, calm sea.

“I was scared,” said Scroll. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“So did I,” said White, looking at Scroll.

“I was worried about you, White,” said Scroll. “When I saw that they were killing unicorns, all I could think about was... was...” his voice trailed off.

“What happened to you?” White asked, changing the subject. “When I woke up I saw you, and...”

“A soldier beat me up,” said Scroll sadly, “the only reason he didn’t kill me was because he forgot his gun.”

“I...” White said softly, “I don’t know what to say... I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Scroll, “I’m alive, anyway. I just... I just wish I could be as brave as you are.”

“Aww, don’t say that,” said White, throwing a foreleg around Scroll’s shoulder, “I’m not that brave. I hid in a toilet!”

Scroll laughed nervously. “In a toilet? Wow... so that’s why you were in the shower for ninety minutes?”

“Nnnnnnot long enough!” White laughed. “I mean, there was a dead body down there!”

“Eesh...” said Scroll, squirming a little, but still laughing. “Y’know, this really is a terrible, horrible place.”

“And we’re having a pretty terrible time,” conceded White, “but we just gotta keep bucking, y’know? Never give up and all that.”

“Uh-huh,” said Scroll, “like - OOH!” he exclaimed, almost jumping in his seat. White looked at him curiously.

“It’s like that one story - when Twilight and her friends went to the Grand Galloping Gala, they had a terrible time...”

“Uh-huh?”

“But that was okay,” said Scroll, “because they had each other. And when you have...” he looked at White, “when you have a friend, you can bear it.”

White smiled at him. “Well, look who’s a little scholar pony?” he said, rubbing a hoof on Scroll’s head. “Anything else in that head of yours you’re not telling me?”

“Well...” Scroll said, smiling sheepishly, “I know this seems like something really silly to say, but... I’m really, really glad I met you. You’re my first friend, and I think you’re my best.”

“I’m glad I met, you, too, Scroll,” said White.

“No, but...” Scroll said, almost choking on his own words, “I... I want you to know that you’re the most wonderful pony I’ve ever met in my life.”

White smiled at him. “You know something, Scroll?” he asked.

“What?” asked Scroll, looking at White.

“I think you’re pretty wonderful, too.” White nudged him. “My wonderful, brave little scholar.”

Scroll smiled and looked up. “The stars are going away,” he said. “It’ll be dawn soon.”

A single ray of golden sunlight pierced from the horizon, lighting everything up.

“So,” said Scroll, “does this mean we sleep in today?”

End of Part One

---

The Book of Friendship

Part 2: Family

Chapter 11

With the bright sun hanging overhead and the trees all covered in orange and gold leaves, two young stallions made their rounds through the town. One of them, a chipper unicorn, pranced up to a house and rang the doorbell. The door opened a short while after, revealing a bespectacled earth pony in a suit.

“Can I help you?” the stallion asked.

“Hello!” said the unicorn, “My name is Brother Young, and we’re with the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia. This is my partner, Brother Breeze.”

“Hello,” said Brother Breeze, a pegasus.

“Fraternity?” asked the stallion at the door, “My son joined that. He’s off on his mission, too.”

“Oh?” asked Brother Young eagerly, “Maybe we know him! What’s his name?”

“Scroll.”

“Oh,” said Brother Young, deflating. “I don’t know him.”

“Me neither,” said Brother Breeze.

“Well, in any case, we already have a book, but thank you,” said the stallion, closing the door. Truth be told, Mr. Page didn’t quite get the whole Fraternity thing. He just knew that one day in his senior year, his son came home from school very excited about this club he had just joined. His mother had been very relieved that Scroll seemed like he was finally making friends, and Scroll seemed extraordinarily enthusiastic, bringing home the Fraternity's literature to read. Unfortunately, Mrs. Page’s mind changed that summer when he announced that he’d be going with some unicorn to a far-off place on a two-year mission.

At present, she was standing in Scroll’s room, which was more or less the way he’d left it, save for what he’d taken with him. There was still his bed, his quiz bowl trophy, his Star Horse poster, the picture of him with the science club (Scroll was, of course, barely visible in the back of the group), his coin collection, and other knickknacks.

It had been two months since Scroll left on his mission, and his mother didn’t like that. As far as she was concerned, he should have been in college then. It didn’t help that they’d gotten almost no contact from him. She wasn’t worried that he was dead or anything, but she didn’t like how he seemed to just jump into this Fraternity business, going off with a random guy to commit to an undertaking like... well, she wasn’t exactly sure what Scroll was supposed to be doing.

Mr. Page walked to the door. “Honey?” he asked, “We should be getting ready.”

Mrs. Page sighed. “Oh, alright...”

___________

The Green Grass was one of those moderately classy restaurants, the kind that a foal would be able to find something on the menu they liked, but that was still expensive.

“Party of two?” asked the receptionist.

“Oh, no, no,” said a white unicorn, “party of four. It’s under ‘Gleam.’”

“Oh, of course,” said the receptionist, “whenever you and your guests are ready.”

“Right-O,” said Gleam, grinning.

“Hopefully they managed to find their way,” said the mare at his side.

“Ah, probably,” said Gleam, “just got a little caught up with something, I suppose.”

Gleam and his wife Bianca were both dressed for the occasion - meeting new ponies they always wanted to put their best hoof forward. As Bianca had always told her son White, “First impressions matter.” She had decided, after getting letters back from him, that they simply had to meet his partner’s parents, so last week she looked them up and sent them a letter, saying they should meet for lunch here.

Two equally well-dressed earth ponies entered through the doors. Unlike the two unicorns, who wore beaming smiles the entire time, the earth ponies were more reserved. The contrast became even more apparent when Gleam noticed them.

“Why hello!” he said, merrily trotting up to them, “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Page!”

“Yes,” said Mr. Page, unflapped, “you’re Gleam?”

“Yes siree, and this is my wife Bianca,” he said. “I could tell it was you right away, I can really see the family resemblance! White’s told us all about your son. You must be so proud!”

Mrs. Page was a little too dumbstruck to say anything.

“Your table, sir?” asked the receptionist.

“Oh, of course!” said Gleam, “Thank you kindly.”

The Pages didn’t give a visible “weirded out” reaction, though they were somewhat taken aback by Gleam’s energy (the neutral connotation was the best choice). They followed the waiter to their table, where they sat down.

“So, can I start you off with anything to drink?” asked the waiter.

“Why, yes,” said Gleam, “I think I’ll start off with some jasmine tea.”

“I will, too,” said Bianca.

“We always agree, don’t we?” asked Gleam.

“Coffee, please,” said Mr. Page.

“Decaf,” said Mrs. Page. She turned back to the unicorns. “So, your son has told you about Scroll?” she asked nervously.

“Oh, yes!” said Bianca, levitating a photograph in front of the earth ponies. Mr. Page adjusted his spectacles, looking at it. There was Scroll, all right, the dark blue earth pony with the black mane and glasses. He was smiling at the camera, next to a white unicorn with a brown mane and a smile for a cutie mark. The unicorn was beaming at the camera - obviously had to be Gleam and Bianca’s son. There were some other ponies in the picture, though. On the unicorn’s back was a small pink colt, and next to Scroll there was a pair of earth ponies. The first one was a cream-colored mare with some kind of frothy mug as a cutie mark, and the other a slightly shorter, slightly fatter tawny colt.

“Who are these other ponies?” asked Mrs. Page.

“Well, they’ve had a ton of success!” said Gleam. “That pink colt is Clip. They’ve taken him in like a family member. Cute, isn’t he? And those two there are Tap and her brother, Barrel.”

“Barrel’s actually joining the Fraternity,” said Bianca, smiling.

Mrs. Page raised an eyebrow. There was something she didn’t like about Tap. She looked, well... not the sort of filly she wanted her son to be around. She didn’t say anything, though.

“So, Scroll hasn’t written back to you?” asked Bianca.

“Well, not really,” said Mr. Page.

“He never was a big writer,” admitted Mrs. Page.

“Aww, that’s a shame,” said Gleam. “Well, anyway, they’re on this island of earth ponies. Our little White’s the only unicorn there.”

“Ah,” said Mr. Page.

“So White tells us that Scroll’s quite the scholar,” said Gleam.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Page, smiling a bit, “he was one of the star players of his quiz bowl team.”

“Really?” asked Bianca, “White was going to do that, but he decided to do theatre instead.”

Gleam’s horn glowed, and a large folder floated up.

“Umm...” said Mr. Page as the folder opened, showing several photos of the white unicorn colt.

“This was White’s first show as a little colt,” said Gleam proudly, “and he’s been in over thirty musicals!”

The album flipped through the pages, showing White in various costumes with the members of whatever cast he was in at the moment. In a somewhat surreal twist, the cast photos seemed to be the same group of ponies, with the same poses, but in different costumes. Mrs. Page could see the distinct family resemblance - in every picture, White had that blinding smile.

“He certainly smiles a lot...” she said.

“Oh, yes!” said Bianca, turning the page, “And he has wonderful oral hygiene!”

The next few pages consisted almost entirely of dental records.

“We would’ve been happy if he decided to pursue a career in the arts,” said Gleam, “but he’s studying to become a dentist!”

“He always says he wants to see other ponies smile,” Bianca sighed fondly.

Mr. Page was not as concerned as his wife. “So what exactly is it they do on this mission?” he asked.

“Well, basically they’re supposed to spread the teachings of Twilight Sparkle,” said Gleam simply, “Princess Celestia’s student.”

“Scroll told us about that,” Mr. Page answered, somewhat relieved he could actually contribute to the conversation, “the letters, right?”

“Yes,” said Bianca.

“But there’s more than just the letters in the Book of Friendship,” said Gleam, “there’s also other things - party games, pranks, simple recipes, even relationship advice in some of the newer editions...”

“But what do they do?” asked Mrs. Page. “Walking up to doors and hooving out books?”

“Well, yes, there’s that,” said Gleam, “but they also do other things they think can help out. Like Tap and Barrel, here.” He picked up the photograph again. “Their house burned down, so White and Scroll helped them rebuild.”

“Burned down?” asked Mrs. Page, for the first time actually frightened about this whole mess, “What happened?”

“I’m not sure...” said Gleam, “White never really explained...”

“Calm down, honey,” said Mr. Page.

“But also Clip - he’s an orphan, I think,” continued Gleam, “they’ve taken the little guy in.”

“They also put on a play,” said Bianca.

Mr. Page’s eyes narrowed. That was probably the last thing he ever expected his son to take part in. “Well,” he said, picking up his menu, “it sounds like they’re having fun.”

Actually, they weren’t.

___________

Earthquake Island was not a very nice place. It was an island far beyond the borders of Equestria, with a town that consisted entirely of earth ponies. Brother White was usually the sole unicorn there. This day, however, there were other unicorns.

There was a massive fortress in the sky, floating over the island. Bolts of fire and magic rained down from the castle, striking the town and its surrounding forest. In retaliation, the soldiers of the town were firing cannons back up at the fortress. In the street there was a roaring firefight between the earth ponies and the unicorns. These ponies weren’t throwing pies. They had guns that shot actual bullets that were intended to kill.

While the battle was raging outside, however, there was one building that was left untouched. The castle’s attacks didn’t land anywhere near it, soldiers weren’t breaking down the door, nothing. It was a quiet, clean building not too far in the middle of the town with a plaque on it. This plaque read:

Mission House of the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia.

Brothers White and Scroll welcome you!

“Alright!” said a young unicorn stallion, looking around the mission house. He was a white unicorn, with bright blue eyes and a big beaming smile. His brown mane, however, was not as neatly combed as it had been in the photograph his parents had seen. There were some loose locks that kept falling in front of his face, causing him to jolt his head to clear them away.

There were dozens of earth ponies in the mission house, all of them “refugees” of sorts, in here to keep safe from the war outside.

Brother White looked at the group of ponies, all of whom seemed tired, scared, and a little bored. They were used to the attacks, though this was the first time that it involved-

“Pies!” called a voice from the kitchen. A dark blue earth pony stuck his head out of the doorway. There was Brother Scroll, with that nervous smile and a pair of round spectacles over his brown eyes. His face was covered in flour and batter, and he had a big poofy chef’s hat on his head. “First batch of pies are done!”

He went back into the kitchen, and then trotted out with a platter of freshly-baked apple pies on his back. He looked around hopefully. The earth ponies there, however, did not seem particularly interested.

“They’re really good...” Scroll said, a little pathetically. He simply placed the platter of pies on the counter, hoping somepony would want one, before retreating back into the kitchen.

White shiftily looked around at the other ponies before walking up to the pies. “Thank you, Scroll!” he said loudly. “These pies look absolutely delicious!” He leaned down to smell. “Mmm!”

Tap, the cream-colored mare, was lying down on a nearby bench, bored like a lot of the other ponies were. She wondered whether her tavern had been destroyed again. It probably had. She looked over at Brother White, who was trying so very hard to convince the others to try one of those apple pies. She tilted her head, curious - she’d never actually had an apple pie. Fancy pastries weren’t exactly the sort of luxury anypony on Earthquake Island really cared about. White and Scroll just seemed so dead-set on these pies that she decided she’d just get up and go try one of them.

“A bit fancier than the usual grass or fruit,” she said, looking over the pies.

“They’re a staple back in Equestria,” explained White. “You know...” he smiled again, “These apple pies are actually what ended the conflict between the settler ponies and the buffalo at Appleoosa.”

“Really,” said Tap, her tone so flat it wasn’t even inflected as a question. “Well,” she said, looking at them, “I think I’ll try one.” White let out a very relieved sigh as Tap took one of the pies back to her bench. White, feeling a little better, decided he’d pop into the kitchen, where Brother Scroll was busy at work stirring something in a bowl. Barrel, Tap’s brother, was walking from the fridge with a carton of eggs, while Clip, the pink colt, was sitting on the counter watching the whole thing.

The photograph did not have a clear view of Clip’s back or his flanks. On his back were two red scars, and his flanks had black burns where his cutie mark should have been. He was not an earth pony, but a pegasus pony.

“Baking is easy...” Scroll said to himself, “it’s just chemistry. Simple, applied chemistry...”

“Chemistry?” asked Barrel.

“Yeah, Chemistry!” said Scroll. “Everything’s down to reactions. All very simple - just gotta get everything in the right quantities and measurements and under the right conditions, and you’ve got pies!”

“Sounds complicated,” said Barrel flatly.

Scroll shrugged. He smiled a little. Despite the terror going outside, he felt that occupying himself with a mental task was a good way to help him relax. He could put his mind to work, and hopefully these pies would help to relieve the war-torn earth ponies in the next room. And in any case, he found there was something refreshing about making delicious baked goods.

“Great work, Scroll,” said White, poking his head into the kitchen, “how you holding up?”

“Fine, fine...” said Scroll, nodding.

“Wonderful!” said White, pulling his head out of the kitchen. He spotted another pony taking one of the pies. White smiled - it seemed like a little stroke of good luck. Then the ground shook, the pony lurched, and the pie went flying, hitting White in the face with a splat!

Even though guns and cannons were blazing outside, the world seemed very quiet for White. The pie tin slowly slid off of his face, hitting the floor with a dull clang.

“It’s okay...” said White, taking a deep breath, “You can have another one.”

White stood there for a few seconds before walking back into the kitchen, where Scroll seemed to be trying to catch his breath. Barrel, meanwhile, was standing with egg yolks over his eyes. White walked up to the sink and turned the faucet on... and water didn’t come out.

“Oh, come on...” said White. The water was off again. “Great.”

Barrel, meanwhile, was wiping the egg off of his face. Clip started giggling. Those two had a much better composure in the situation than the missionaries - they’d known the war their entire lives.

___________

The day after an attack was deathly quiet. White sat up in his bed, his ears pricked, like eyes gone wide in the dark. Not a sound, save for Scroll’s breathing. He looked down at the young stallion sleeping next to him. Scroll let out a contented little hum - White decided he wouldn’t wake him. He got out of bed and looked up at the bunk above and saw Clip, snuggled up in his bed, like he didn’t have a care in the world. White smiled a little.

White stretched himself out and walked into the main room. Empty - all the earth ponies had cleared out by now, and they’d left the place a mess. Most of the pies were still there, too, completely untouched.

White proceeded into the bathroom. He saw his scraggly mane in the mirror. “I am such a mess...” he said to himself. His first thought was to take a shower, but the water was still off. He lifted the comb with his magic, trying to straighten out his mane, but that didn’t work too well when it was dry.

He shook his head. Snap out of it, White, he thought, you’re Brother White, and by gosh, you’re with the Fraternity! Show that smile! He grinned. There it was, bright and beaming as ever in the mirror, and he instantly felt better.

He walked back into the main room and looked at the door that led to the town outside the mission house. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage, marched up to the door, opened it, and was met with something wet and stingy on his face. “Ahh!” he yelled, stumbling back and covering his eyes with a hoof. He shut the door, and removing the hoof from his face, he saw that it was covered in black paint. He blinked, puzzling over that.

“G’morning, White...” said a groggy voice. White turned around to see Brother Scroll, yawning.

“Hey,” said White, wiping off his hoof. Scroll tilted his head, looking at his mission companion.

“We doing another play?” he asked.

“What?” White asked, “Oh, no, no no...” he nervously laughed. “This is just something that happened...” he straightened up, “anyway, think we should go take a look? Maybe see if Tap and Barrel are okay? Maybe if they’re okay we can stop by for breakfast - bring the pies.”

Scroll looked sadly at the untouched pies. “Nopony wanted them...”

“Aw, don’t be hard on yourself, buddy,” said White, shrugging, “they were fine. Tap had one.”

Scroll’s head snapped in White’s direction. “She did?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said White, “now, let’s go on out!” he said, marching out the door.

White took a few steps outside of the mission house and stopped. The town was a mess - many of the buildings were destroyed, and there was rubble and dead bodies littering the street. White took a deep breath - this would not be pleasant to walk through.

Scroll followed outside, pulling the red wheelbarrow, now stacked with the tragically neglected apple pies. He, too, surveyed the wreck - depressing, but it was starting to become typical as they witnessed more and more attacks. He looked around, and then he saw the door, which now sported a crudely-painted penis.

“Well, let’s-” said White, before spotting the graffiti. “Oh...” he said, “Well, we’ll have to, uh...”

He shook his head. “C’mon, let’s see what we can do,” he finished, starting on down the road, with Brother Scroll following.

“We got pies!” White called out, sporting his usual smile. “Home-made apple pies!”

Scroll had to smile along with him. “I made them myself!” he called, trying to show a little confidence.

Of course, nopony was interested in a pie. They were all busy trying to get back to their lives, rebuilding their homes, carting away their dead. There was a nearby cart that was owned by the Shovel Bros., a pair of grave-digger ponies who seemed to be only ones as cheerful as the missionaries.

Scroll’s eyes shifted. He saw the other earth ponies, and the looks they gave him and White. “Fuck off, you annoying little fairies,” they seemed to say.

White wouldn’t be deterred. He just kept walking with his head held high. Scroll didn’t know how he could do that. He kept finding himself jittering around, just noticing things around the place - a foal pawing at a fallen door, a soldier giving them a dirty look. A cream-colored mare standing in front of the ashen ruins of a tavern.

“I think I should feel worse about losing my home,” said Tap, “but now it’s just something that happens and it doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

“We can help you rebuild it,” said White, trying to be helpful.

“Again?” Tap asked, laughing a little.

“Yeah,” said White, “again and again.”

“We brought some pie,” said Scroll, nudging the wheelbarrow. He knew how pathetic it seemed - all this bleak despair, countless ponies dead and countless more out of homes, and all they had was a wheelbarrow full of apple pies.

Tap looked at it and laughed a bit.

“Hey, I had one of those yesterday, during the attack,” she said. “They’re really good,” she added, seeing Scroll’s despondent expression.

Scroll smiled. “Thanks,” he said, pawing the ground nervously. “Say, uh...” he looked around, “where’s Barrel?”

“Oh, he went down to the docks,” said Tap. “Not like he has anything else to do. There isn’t anything here but this bottle of whiskey,” she said, tapping a bottle on the ground next to her.

“I’ll go check up on him,” said White, trotting off. “Scroll, you stay and see if you can help Tap clear away the junk.”

“What?” Scroll asked, watching as White merrily went away, “I, uh, well, um...” he stammered, sitting on the ground and fidgeting with his glasses.

“Well, there’s not a whole lot to be done,” said Tap. “There’ll be a crew coming in to clear away all the busted wood and stuff. Then we can start putting up new stuff. I think we’ll just keep it one story this time, though...”

“You could stay at the mission house...” suggested Scroll, “well, if we can get some new beds, I mean...”

“Oh, Scroll,” Tap laughed, “that’s awful nice of you, but I don’t think that’d work out.”

“Well...” said Scroll.

“Oh, come on, you don’t want my business around your place,” said Tap. “You don’t want a bunch of drunken brutes crashing around your nice little house, do you?”

“Well, I dunno...” said Scroll, “I mean, really, I want to help.”

Tap smiled. “Your Fraternity must be glad to have ponies like you in it.”

“Well, eheheh...” Scroll said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hoof.

“There’s a ship!” cried a voice. It was Barrel, running down the street, followed closely by White. “There’s a ship that’s coming in!”

“I think it’s got supplies!” White said excitedly. “I think the Fraternity is actually answering my request for supplies!”

“Suh-suh...” Scroll stammered, “Really?”

“C’mon!” shouted White, turning back around and running down the street. “This is great! We’ll have so much more apples and milk and sugar and maybe some more beds and blankets...”

The four ponies ran down the street, towards the docks, with White shouting happily all the way.

“...And frosting and cookies and eggs and alfalfa and salt and...”

He stopped. There at the dock, in front of them and looking sternly at the docked ship, was a hulking stallion, the color of dried earth, with a crack for a cutie mark. With him were two earth pony soldiers, one of whom noticed the party of ponies that had just waltzed in.

“Uhh, general?” said the soldier. The general turned his head. Seeing the unicorn, he snorted, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, uhh,” said White, “hiya, Quake!”

“What the fuck did I tell you about checking my ass, horner?” the general growled angrily. White and Scroll backed up, exchanging a nervous glance. What did Quake want here?

“Here we are, sir!” shouted a soldier from the boat, as he and two other earth ponies carried down a large crate. They set it down with a loud thud. The general walked over to it and looked over it.

“Well?” he said, “Don’t just stand there like a bunch of mouth-breathing dipshits - open it!”

One of the soldiers bucked it, knocking the lid off. By this point a small crowd was starting to gather around the docks. The missionaries just kept their eyes glued to the general as he stuck his hoof into the crate and started sorting through it. White cringed as he heard the sounds of the supplies being sorted around - he didn’t want them to get broken, and General Quake wasn’t being too considerate.

“Eggs... sugar...” the general muttered, “The fuck is this?” he asked, lifting a jug of milk from the crate.

“Well, sir,” said Scroll, “I realize that here on the island you don’t have cows or, well...” One glance from the general indicated he didn’t want a long-winded explanation. “It’s milk.”

“For the foals?” asked the general.

“Well, not completely...” said Scroll. The general looked at him like he was crazy.

“Well, shit,” Quake grunted. He rummaged through the crate some more, scattering some straw and bits of packaging out of the box. One small item hit the dock and nearly fell through a gap in the boards, but the general didn’t notice it.

All the while, the crowd was watching with interest. Clip, the little colt, managed to gingerly pick his way through the mass of ponies and get up to where the missionaries were.

“Waddya need all this shit for?” General Quake asked, looking at them.

“Well, sir...” said White, looking from the general do the crowd, “It’s for them. The Fraternity sent these to us so we could share them.”

“Sharing is an important part of being a friend!” Scroll piped.

“Sharing, huh?” the general asked disdainfully. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind ‘sharing’ with us, now, would you?”

“No, not at all!” said White, nodding eagerly. “It’s for everypony.”

Quake snorted. “We’ll take this over to my bunker,” he said, as the soldiers replaced the lid.

“Uhh...” said White, unsure of what to say as the general and his stallions passed by.

“But... but...” said Scroll, rushing in front of the general, “but you can’t-”

The general shoved Scroll aside. His glasses fell onto the dock, while Scroll stumbled right over the edge and into the water with a splash.

“Augh!” Scroll cried, desperately clinging to the wet wood. The water kept rising and falling, however, making a steady grip difficult. The general looked down over the side of the dock.

“Scroll!” White shouted.

“I can do whatever the fuck I like, you fucking little pussy.” Quake snorted, before leaving with his soldiers and the crate.

Scroll was frightened. He’d never been a strong swimmer, and there seemed to be very few provisions on this dock for ponies that fell overboard.

“Hold on!” White said frantically, “A rope, somepony get a rope!” He spotted a bit of rope, grabbing it in his mouth and running over to the side of the dock. “Grab on!” he shouted, throwing it down. Scroll bit down on the rope as White tried to pull him up. Clip ran up behind him, grabbing a length of rope and pulling along with him. Very shortly, Tap and Barrel followed suit, and soon enough Scroll was raised out of the water.

“Pull!” White shouted, pulling on the rope as hard as he could. Scroll managed to get high enough that he could throw his forelegs over the top, allowing White, Tap, and Barrel to get a grip on him and pull him up.

Scroll sat there on the dock, panting.

“Scroll, are you okay?” asked White, kneeling in front of him.

“Yeah...” Scroll said, still breathing deeply. “I think so...” He looked at White. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” said White, laughing a little. “I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to do that.”

Scroll smiled and looked down. “Well, still... thanks.”

White smiled too, spotting the glasses. “Dropped these,” he said, lifting them into the air and onto Scroll’s face.

“Thanks for that, too,” said Scroll.

“Uhh...” said an earth pony, tapping on White’s shoulder. White looked up at him - one of the sailors on the ship. “Y’know, we got like five more of these crates... you do want ‘em, right?”

White got up, overjoyed. “Oh, absolutely!” he said, “You just unload them and we’ll get them right over to the-”

“What’s this?” asked Clip, prodding the little box that the general had knocked out of the crate.

“Huh?” asked White, looking over at him.

Clip picked the tiny little box in his mouth, lifting it up for White to see. White squinted and looked at it - very small, no bigger than a music box. White’s horn glowed and he lifted the box a little higher so he could see it in the light. He recognized it. He looked over at Scroll, smiling, and Scroll’s expression showed that he knew what it was, too.

White looked back at the crowd, which was beginning to disperse. White smiled. “Ponies?” he said to the friends around him, “I think our day is about to get a little brighter!”

There was a click as the lid of the box opened, and a burst of light streamed from the opening. A banner of multi-colored light flowed out of the box, up into the sky, before arcing down over the town. Tap, Barrel, and Clip stared at it in awe, as the missionaries’ faces filled with elation.

It was a rainbow.

---

Chapter 12

Barrel took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he pulled on the rope as hard as he could, and the wall came up.

Rebuilding was always the busiest part of life. Out over the sea, there were two floating bodies - there was the Stormcloud, a collective of pegasi led by General Storm (vicious bitch), and the Monarch’s Fortress, which was a floating city ruled by General Monarch (smug bastard). The ponies of Earthquake Island, led by General Quake (fucking asshole), couldn’t do much other than sit and wait for one of the two groups to attack. When an attack came, there was no way to guarantee that one’s house would be safe. Just about everypony on the island had lost their home at one point or another, and when that happened they had to try to rebuild and get a livelihood back. Some of them couldn’t, and just ended up as bums on the street.

Tap and Barrel had lost their home several times throughout their lives. Sometimes the tavern burned down, sometimes it got demolished by an explosion, sometimes a pegasus tornado blew it away, sometimes it just couldn’t hold under an earthquake. When an attack came, they’d hide in the cellar, and often they’d come out to find that the tavern around them had been flattened. The next day, they’d have to rebuild the whole thing by themselves. It wasn’t a particularly difficult job, as earth ponies were always fast builders.

Barrel could remember the first time that their home had been destroyed. It was when he was a tiny colt, hadn’t even gotten his cutie mark yet...

“Tap,” said his mother, “I want you and your brother to stay down in the cellar.”

“But mom...” said Tap.

“No buts,” said their father, “you stay down there, and you don’t come out until all of the cannons and guns have stopped.”

“But...” said Barrel, “What are you gonna do?”

“We’re going to help the neighbors,” said their father, “we’ll be back in the morning.”

“Barrel?” asked Tap, “Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” asked Barrel, jolted from his memory. “Oh, no. Just thinking...”

“Well, we can’t just live in walls. Need to get the roof on.”

That had been the last time he’d seen his parents. When they came out the next morning, they were nowhere to be found. Tap never said what had happened to them, but when Barrel was older he understood that they must have been killed. That had been a rude awakening to a lot of things about life on Earthquake Island. Barrel realized that nopony was going to help them - it was just him and his sister, out on their own. Tap adjusted to it well, though. At least, Barrel thought she did. She was smarter than he was, at any rate.

They stood in the middle of the room - four walls, but there was no furniture and no ceiling. And after they got a roof on they’d need to get the other rooms up. Then they’d be able to go back to their tavern business, assuming they could scrape together enough to buy booze to sell. Until then, however, Barrel was not optimistic.

Barrel heard hoofsteps on the blackened floor. Turning around, he saw two stallions whom he recognized as carpenters and builders.

“‘Ey,” said one of them, “we saw your house’d burned down.”

“I noticed,” said Tap, not paying them any attention.

“Well,” said the other stallion, “we thought we might be able to help.”

This caught Tap’s attention. “Help?”

“Yeah,” said the first stallion, walking up to her, “I mean, you want your house built, and we can build houses.”

“We’d be happy to,” said the second stallion, following his partner, “if we could have a little exchange.”

“Exchange,” said Tap in a flat tone of voice.

“Yeah, y’know,” said the first stallion, “not in money, but like one of them... bartender economies?”

“Well,” said Tap, “I think Barrel and I would appreciate the help. We can probably work something out.”

“That’d be great. We could even throw in some money, too,” said the second stallion, “if you offer us enough in exchange.”

Barrel had about enough of this. “I know what you’re talking about,” he huffed, turning away. “I don’t think you need my help.”

“Barrel, wait...” said Tap, but Barrel was already out the doorway. He wasn’t grumbling, or fuming, or really letting anything on at all. He just had to get out, without his sister or the stallions who bought her or the missionaries or the general or his soldiers or anything. He just wanted to be alone.

___________

White was always the one up early, and the first thing he did, even before breakfast, was freshen up in the bathroom. Now that the water was back on, White could comb his mane properly. As he did so, he realized for the first time that he hadn’t gotten a manecut in two months. It had completely slipped his mind up until this point. Placing the comb down, he looked at himself. He wondered whether he’d keep his mane long. He decided he’d ask Scroll what he thought. Moving on with his morning routine, he placed the comb down and put on his shiny nametag. He smiled as he adjusted it. Now all he needed to do was put on his tie...

There he was. The three P’s: prim, proper, and professional - the ideal missionary.

“White?” called Scroll’s voice, “Is today toast day or pancakes day?”

“Why don’t we forget both of them and have waffles instead?” asked White.

“Waffles and pancakes are kinda the same thing!”

White shrugged, straightened his tie, and walked into the main room. “Well, whatever we have, let’s have a big breakfast. Big new day, and a whole lot of new doors to knock on!”

He marched up to the door, threw it open, walked out, and found he had to swat a noose out of his face.

He stopped. Something wasn’t right here. He looked at his hoof, which was holding the loop of rope. As the realization dawned on him, he dropped it like a hot potato and backed up.

When he calmed down, he heard a foal laughing. Venturing to step further outside, he turned around and saw a brown colt sitting on the roof of the mission house, holding one end of the rope. He looked vaguely familiar to White. He could’ve sworn that he’d seen that colt out and about while doing missionary rounds, sometimes jeering or throwing garbage at him.

“Your idea of a practical joke?” White asked.

“Not joking,” said the colt. “You’re fucking dead, horner.”

White was alerted to the depressing reality that death threats had ceased to unnerve him. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Buzz,” answered the colt, who had a circular saw as his cutie mark.

“Well, Buzz,” said White, “do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No!” said Buzz. “‘Cause I’m not GAY.”

White was not going to dignify that with a response. “Y’know, you really should get down from there,” he said. “It’s not safe. You could fall, and trust me, it hurts.”

“Fuck you!” Buzz shouted. He glared down at White.

White sighed. He got the distinct impression that this kid would be sticking around, and he wouldn’t be as nice as Clip. It was bad enough when the adult ponies picked on him, but now there was a colt who must’ve had a great deal of spare time.

“White?” called Scroll’s voice from inside. The door opened. “It turns out that it actually is pancakes day and LYNCH MOB!” He jumped back, seeing the noose.

___________

Barrel sat completely still on the docks, watching the seagull. If he just sat completely still, it wouldn’t be afraid of him. He held his breath, watching as the bird walked closer (well, not so much walking closer as not being afraid to go in his general direction).

Barrel smiled. He always liked to just sit on the docks and watch the seabirds as they did the things seabirds did. It was just something simple and calming, completely detached from the harsh realities of Earthquake Island.

Barrel’s smile dropped as the bird suddenly flew away.

“Hey, kid,” said a voice behind him, “mind moving outta the way?”

Barrel looked behind him and saw a pony carrying a large box. “Sorry...” he said, quickly getting up and moving out of the pony’s way.

Barrel sighed. Now that there were sailors doing stuff, the gulls wouldn’t be on the docks, leaving Barrel just standing there like an idiot with nothing to do. He felt guilty about storming out on his sister like that. He decided he’d have to swallow what little pride he had and trudge on back home to the tavern, and hope that Tap wouldn’t be upset with him.

He returned to the tavern to find that the two construction workers had not started on building a roof, but where hard at work building a second floor.

“Uhh, sis?” Barrel asked nervously.

“Yes?” Tap asked.

“I thought we were gonna just have a one-floor house this time...”

“Figured I’d get as much as I could,” said Tap. “Barrel, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I guess...”

“Listen, Barrel,” Tap said, gesturing for Barrel to sit down on a stool, “I know that what I do upsets you.”

Barrel nodded sadly. “I’m sorry I stormed off like that...”

“It’s okay, Barrel,” Tap said, smiling, trying to cheer him up. “C’mon. Let’s get to work. If we hurry, we can get open business again tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

___________

There was a knock on a door, and an old stallion answered the door, to find a smiling white unicorn in a red tie standing on his porch.

“Goooooood morning!” said Brother White.

“The fuck is good about it?” the old stallion asked, groaning inwardly.

“Yyyyyyyyyyoooou getting a free pie!” said White, revealing an apple pie.

“Fuck your pie.”

“No, you eat it.”

The old stallion had enough of this and just shut the door.

“Why doesn’t anypony want my pie?” Scroll moaned loudly.

“Don’t worry, Scroll,” said White, “we just need to get one or two ponies to try them and then it’ll spread through word of mouth. Then maybe they’ll be interested in our book...”

“Hopefully...” said Scroll.

“C’mon,” said White, “you knock next time.”

They moved onto the next house. Scroll walked up to the door, book in mouth, and knocked. A young mare answered. Scroll took the book out of his mouth.

“Can I help you?” asked the mare.

“Hi!” said Scroll. “My name is Brother Scroll, and I’m with the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia, and I, uh...”

Scroll’s voice trailed off as the mare’s extraordinarily bored expression intimidated him.

“I have a book...”

“Aren’t you with that horner?” asked the mare.

“Um...” Scroll said, looking back at White. “Listen, ma’am,” he said, turning back to her, “he isn’t a ‘horner,’ he’s a unicorn. You really shouldn’t be using racial slurs. I mean, ‘horner’ sounds dirty, and Brother White is actually very clean.”

The mare shut the door.

“He showers every day!” Scroll called. When no answer came, he sighed and hanged his head.

“So...” said White, walking up to Scroll, “next door?”

“We need a better idea,” said Scroll. “Knocking on doors isn’t working, apple pie isn’t working, trivia night isn’t working, nopony seemed remotely interested in our beach party...”

“We’ll think of something, Scroll,” said White, “something...”

They resumed walking for a while - they skipped the next several houses, as they were all the sites of previous rejections. When they finally came to a house they didn’t recognize, White knocked on the door.

“Go away!” shouted a voice from inside. “I’ve told you three times I don’t want your damn book!”

“Oh, sorry!” White called. “New house?”

“Yes, now fuck off!”

White walked away from the door, shaking his head and muttering something about counting houses.

“So,” said Scroll, as they resumed walking, “lately I’ve been reading...”

“Oh yeah?” asked Brother White. “What?”

“Clydesdale Lewis,” said Scroll, “one of the great friendship apologists. He wrote something about laughter that I thought was very interesting.”

“Oh?” White asked, his curiosity piqued. “And what was that?”

“Well,” began Scroll, adjusting (not fidgeting with) his glasses, “basically, he divided laughter into four different categories: joy, fun, the joke proper, and flippancy. Laughter from Joy, Lewis argues, is the purest and greatest form of laughter. Fun is very similar on most levels. Jokes are slightly different - laughter from most jokes is good, but, say, you know those jerks from school? The ones who made wisecracks at the expenses of others all the time?”

“Yeah?”

“Not good laughter,” said Scroll. “Lastly, there’s flippancy, and that is not good laughter at all. I mean, it’s like a joke without the actual joke, treating something dismissively as though it’s just something worthy of derision, and, well... it’s just mean.”

“Huh,” said White, “that’s cool, Scroll.”

“Thanks,” said Scroll, smiling. He stood there and looked at his partner. “White?” he asked timidly.

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering...” Scroll said, fidgeting with his glasses, “If maybe... maybe we could have a day for just us?”

“Just us?”

“Yeah. No mission work, no Barrel, no Clip, just... us?” He looked at White, a nervous expression on his face, as though he was afraid he’d be rejected.

“You know,” said White, “I’d love to.”

“Any luck?” asked a mocking voice. The two ponies looked over and saw Buzz.

“Hello, Buzz,” said White, “any real reason you’re following us today?”

“Came to watch the freak show,” said Buzz.

“Freak show?” Scroll asked.

“Yeah,” said Buzz, “Brother Scroll, the amazing horn-sucking faggot.”

“Horn-sucking...” Scroll repeated, unaccustomed to the insult.

“Don’t you have something else you could be doing?” White asked. “Foals your own age you could be playing with, family you could be helping out with? School?”

“Fuck no,” said Buzz, trotting off. “Smell ya later!” he jeered, laughing at them disappearing around a corner.

“That,” said Scroll, “is laughter from flippancy.”

___________

Barrel placed the last table in the center of the room. That was it. After one long day of work, deep in the evening, the tavern was rebuilt, just like new (or at least as “like new” as one could get with the available resources). It was a strange feeling - even though there was always something different, it was always comforting to know that they had their own roof and their own beds and their own fireplace. Tomorrow morning they’d open up for business.

Barrel was roused from his thoughts by a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Just your friends!” called Brother White’s voice.

“Come in!” said Barrel.

The door opened, revealing a smiling but obviously tired Brother White. “Hello!” he said. “We saw you got the tavern rebuilt. Great to see.”

“Thanks,” said Barrel, sitting down at the counter.

“And you know something else?” said White. “When the Fraternity sent supplies, they sent in this!” He looked behind him. “Bring it in, Brother.”

White walked in, followed by Scroll, who pulled in the wheelbarrow. In the wheelbarrow was a small refrigerator.

“Ours is still working, so...” White said, shrugging.

“And we put all the booze that you’d put in our fridge into this one,” Scroll said, opening it to reveal a number of bottles.

“Wow,” said Barrel, a little dumbstruck, “thanks.”

“Oh, nah,” said White, “we didn’t even need it, and who better to give it to than our good friends Tap and Barrel? Say,” he looked around, “where is Tap, anyway?”

“She went out,” said Barrel, shrugging, “don’t know where. She never tells me.”

“My older sister was like that, too,” said White, reminiscing. “She never respected my privacy, though... always reading my diary...”

“Uhh...” said Barrel, walking over to the fridge and peering insdie, “so, want something to drink?”

“Sure,” said White, “I think I’d like a ginger beer. That’s non-alcoholic, right?”

“Me too,” said Scroll.

“Alrighty,” said Barrel, fishing out two bottles, as White went to sit next to Scroll.

“Y’know,” said Scroll, “I think the problem with trivia night is that none of the ponies on this island really know anything about Equestrian popular culture. I mean, they don’t know who’s on the Wonderbolts or what musical won the Pony Awards or stuff.”

“Good thinking, Scroll,” said White, “need to work on a more local level.”

Barrel brought the bottles over to the counter, opening them with his teeth. “Oh the house,” he said, “just don’t tell Tap.”

As if on cue, the door swung open, and an exhausted-looking Tap walked in.

“Whiskey, we got whiskey?” she asked, flopping down in a chair. “Cause if we don’t, we need to get our priorities straight.”

“Something wrong?” asked White.

“Oh, nothin’,” said Tap, waving an unconcerned hoof. Scroll, however, noticed there was an unsightly bruise on her foreleg.

“Tap,” Scroll said, “are you...”

“What?” Tap said, quickly lowering her leg.

“You were out doin’ it again,” said Barrel, a sour expression on his face, “weren’t you? With those builders.”

“That was the agreement.”

“Then don’t agree to it!”

“And then what, Barrel?” Tap asked angrily. “Then we don’t have a house.”

“Guys, please...” said White feebly.

“Do you think it’s easy for me?” asked Barrel. “You think it’s easy for me to go through and have kids snicker at me?”

“You think it’s easy for me?” asked Tap. “I’m the one who has to support us.”

“Oh, yeah, and it’s not hard for me at all to see my sister going off with shady-looking stallions and coming back with bruises.”

“I’m doing this to keep food on the table!”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” roared White, exhibiting the experience he’d gained from being in over thirty musicals. “Look...” he said, calming down. “It’s been hard. There was an attack the other day, and we’re all a little tired...”

There was a tense silence in the room. Nopony looked each other in the eye, except for White and Scroll. Then, Scroll’s face lit up, and-

“I know!” Scroll said. “I just got an idea!”

“An idea?” asked Barrel.

“For what?” asked Tap.

“For how we can reach out to the ponies!” said Scroll. “We build a library!”

“Huh?” Tap asked dubiously. “A library? How?”

“I brought a bunch of books along with me. And, I can, I can also send a letter home!” he looked at White. “Ask mom and dad to send over all my other books! We’ll be able to do that, right?”

“I think so...” said White, thinking about it, “the general can’t be that paranoid.”

“Great!” said Scroll. “We can stock it with our copies of the Book of Friendship, my comics, those plays you showed me, those books I’ve got by GK Chestnut and Clydesdale Lewis...”

“What makes you think it’ll work?” asked Tap. “I mean, first there was the door-to-door with the books, then there was that play, then there was that party you never threw, then it was the short-lived ‘showtune night’ here, then the potluck, then that pet show...”

“Well...” started White, but Tap continued to list things.

“...Mane styling tips for the mares, that very poorly thought-out kissing booth, those sorry attempts at starting flash mobs, the campfire sing-along, your repeated attempts to get ponies to attend your friendship talks with offers of free food...”

“And improv night,” said Barrel.

“Please don’t talk about that...” said Scroll, cringing.

“And the ‘Missionary House of Pancakes,’” Tap finished. “I just don’t know how you expect a library will go over any better.”

“Well...” said Scroll, “I mean, literacy is something good. I go around and I see the kids are out around, being delinquent and stuff. I mean, if they just spent sometime inside reading-”

“And drawing dongs on your superheroes?”

Scroll shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.” He stood up. “I’m gonna go back to the mission house - get started and see if Clip’s okay.”

“Okay,” said White, “I’m just gonna finish this.”

“Sure thing,” said Scroll, leaving.

White sat there, drinking his ginger beer, as Tap walked up to the array of bottles and took a bottle of whiskey, sighing in relief. “Barrel,” she said, “you should get to bed.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re opening in the morning and you need sleep.”

“Why aren’t you going to bed?”

“Because I need a drink,” said Tap, “now please go.”

“Fine...” grumbled Barrel, heading up the stairs.

White looked at Tap as she took out a shot glass, took the bottle in her mouth, and poured out a shot of whiskey.

“You shouldn’t be rough with him like that,” said White, “I’m sure he’s just concerned about you.”

“I know...” said Tap, sighing, “I just, well... Barrel’s the only family I have. I want to take care of him, but there’s only so much we can make off of the tavern...”

“Listen, Tap, really, we can help-”

“How?” asked Tap, downing the shot of whiskey. “You’re always on about how you want to help, but you don’t know how to help.”

White didn’t say anything. She was right.

“I mean, really, I know you mean well, but nothing’s working,” she said.

“I figured that ponies would at least appreciate food and bedding,” said White, “we got some blankets...”

Tap poured out another shot.

“I think Scroll might be on to something with the library,” said White, “I mean, missionaries in other places have had a whole lot of success with education programs, and it just seems like something worthwhile.”

“Well, when you do end the war with a big musical number I’ll be first in line to kiss your ass,” said Tap, downing the shot. “Y’know, I’ve been wondering something...”

“What?”

She turned to look at him. “I think you’re just about the only colt on this island who hasn’t hit on me. Why is that?”

“Uhh...” said White, “Well, I, uh, I, uh, I, y’know, uh...”

Tap almost smirked, watching White fumble.

“I didn’t think it’d be polite,” said White, finally getting something coherent out.

“Polite?” asked Tap, amused but not very surprised.

“Yeah, I mean, lots of stallions... do that, and it just seems kinda inappropriate...” said White. “I mean, you are very, very pretty. I get why all the stallions like you.”

She laughed. “I think I should go to bed. I’ll get drunk and then say something stupid that offends your virgin ears.”

“Good night,” said White, getting up.

“Thanks for the fridge,” said Tap.

“Don’t thank me,” said White, opening the door, “we just thought you could use it.”

With that, White shut the door, leaving Tap to get a little bit more drunk.

---

Chapter 13

There was a crack in the ground. Actually, it was a bit larger than a crack. It was a small fissure, large enough for an unwitting pony to find themselves stuck, should there be a misstep. Down in the fissure was a unicorn, constrained in a tight squeeze. The unicorn stood there, sweating from the heat. The space was so small that he was cramped in, barely able to breathe or move, which turned an itch from a minor discomfort into a severe torment.

“You dead yet?” asked a voice above. The unicorn looked up as best he could. There, peering down at him, was the gruff face of the general.

“No,” said the unicorn, too tired to inflect his voice.

“Good,” said the general in a bored tone, “not finished yet.”

They were in General Quake’s camp on the edge of the town. It was a small camp guarded by earth pony soldiers. All of Quake’s soldiers were armed with guns and fitted with very basic matching uniforms. Some of the higher-ups, like his lieutenants, got slightly fancier uniforms (though fancy didn’t mean much on this island). The camp was surrounded by walls, which, admittedly, were not that good of a defense when both enemy factions were airborne.

“So, how the fuck do we fix it?” asked the general.

“Look,” said the unicorn, shuddering, “I don’t know how it works, I’m not an engineer.”

“The fuck do you mean? It’s your shit! You telling me you don’t know how your own shit works?”

“Smells better than yours,” the unicorn muttered. A second later, he realized he’d just made a horrible mistake. He looked up and saw the general reaching across the fissure. “Wait!”

The general didn’t pay attention. He put one powerful hoof on the other end of the crack and, flexing his muscles, he pulled. There was a rough, scraping sound, and the crack became narrower. The unicorn, realizing what was happening, screamed for him to stop, but the closing walls soon made it impossible to breathe. When the general lifted his hoof, the fissure was closed.

“Fucking douche,” he muttered, before walking off. “And somepony get me a damn drink.”

General Quake was the one in charge of the island, more or less. He was the head of the military force and as such, he was as close to “law” as it got for this shithole island. He surveyed his camp, watching the soldiers stroll around, all of them as bored as their general. All in all, a typical day. Quake looked down at the tiny crack that was the only evidence of the fissure existing.

“Sir?” asked one of his lieutenant. “There’s a pony here that wants to talk to you.”

“Who is it?” asked Quake.

“One of the missionaries, sir.”

“Oh, fuck, those two again...” he groaned. “Where is he?”

“I showed him to your tent.”

“Oh, no, no, no...” Quake said, shaking his head. “Why the fuck did you do that? He’ll fag it all up. Remember what he did to Tap’s tavern? That fucking ‘showtune night...’” He snorted. “What do they want, anyway?”

“He says he has a letter,” said the lieutenant, now a bit embarrassed.

“Huh?” Quake asked, “This isn’t that time of week. Oh, forget it...” he grumbled, walking off to his tent.

It turned out that the horner was a massive momma’s boy who insisted on not only sending progress reports to the Fraternity, but also on sending personal letters back home. Quake had insisted on approving every letter before it went out. If those idiots let sensitive information get out, he was boned, and the last thing he wanted was to be boned by those two.

He entered into his tent to find to his great surprise that it wasn’t the horner who was in there. It was that blue pussy with the glasses. He had a rolled-up scroll in his mouth and was sitting patiently waiting for the general.

“Alright, what the fuck do you want?” Quake asked, making Scroll jump out of his seat.

“Well, I, uh, I-I-I-I...” Scroll stammered.

Quake snorted, walking to his desk and sitting down behind it. He stammers. He always fucking stammers.

“Just give me the fucking letter,” he said, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. Scroll quickly dropped the letter on the desk. The general spread the letter out with his hoof. “Why’s it you this time and not the horner?”

“This isn’t White’s letter, sir,” said Scroll, “it’s mine. Besides, he’s back at the mission house with Clip.”

General Quake looked down at the letter.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Hi. Sorry I haven’t really been sending any letters. Just wanted to let you know that everything’s going great. Brother White is a really wonderful friend and when we’re done with our mission I’d like you to meet him. I’ve even learned how to bake pies, though nopony’s really interested. Tap likes them, though (she’s a bartender). Aside from that not much is happening, except for that colt who hung a noose in front of the mission house. He was very rude.

Anyway, the reason I’m writing is that I want to start a library here on the island. I think it’d be a great thing for the ponies here if we could start a library. So I’d like it if you could gather up all my books so I can use them. And I mean all of them: all the ones on my bookshelf, all my books from school, all those old books you used to read me when I was a foal, and anything else you can think of. I want all of them. Just take them over to the Fraternity and they can send them over here.

        

        Love,

        Scroll

Quake’s eyes glazed over. This guy was as much of a pussy when he was writing as he was when speaking.

“I’d like to start a library,” said Scroll.

“I can read that,” Quake said impatiently.

“Well, I...”

“Shut up,” said Quake. “What’s this about a kid with a noose?”

“Well, yesterday, there was this colt who was on the roof with a noose, and he called me a–”

“You don’t get it,” said Quake, “I don’t give a shit about what some piece of street shit’s doing. What I want to know is why it’s in your fucking letter.” The force of the last statement made Scroll lean back, his mouth opening and closing, trying to speak.

“Just take out that part and send your fucking letter,” he said, blowing the piece of paper back in Scroll’s face. Scroll promptly turned and briskly walked out of the tent. “And tell your butt-buddy to stop sending me gift baskets!” he shouted after him. “I FUCKING HATE THOSE!”

The tent was silent for a few minutes.

“The shit I hafta put up with...” Quake groaned. “I need some fucking breakfast...” he muttered. For a brief moment, he almost wished those two – even if they were spineless pansies – hadn’t abandoned their Missionary House of Pancakes project.

___________

The forest was how Earthquake Island managed to support itself. Outside of the town was a massive, dense forest of trees that stocked all the food and wood that the ponies needed. The trees were all carefully arranged in rows and columns, like a giant orchard. A huge swath of it had been burned down in the attack, but General Quake wasn’t too concerned. The earth ponies would make them all come back soon enough.

The general walked through the forest, followed by his two lieutenants. They looked from side to side, surveying the place. Meanwhile the earth ponies cleared the burnt and dead trees, overseen by guards.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be here!” A voice shouted. The general’s ears pricked up, and he looked in the direction of the voice. A guard was shouting at two guys who seemed quite nervous, and were looking at each other as though trying to come up with an excuse.

Quake snorted. “What’s going on here?” he asked. All eyes turned to him, and the two earth ponies looked like they were going to shit themselves.

“Well, we, uh...” said one of them. The general looked down and saw a bag next to one of them.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked.

“The, uh...”

“What’s in the fucking bag?” Quake barked. “You,” he said to his lieutenant, who walked up to them. He stuck his hoof into the bag and pulled out an apple. “Oh, fucking lovely, just what we need...”

“Sir,” said the other earth pony, “please, we lost our home in the–”

“Shoot them,” interrupted Quake.

“But sir–” protested the first earth pony.

When the lieutenant didn’t shoot, Quake grabbed his rifle and then turned it on the first earth pony. There was a bang as he was shot through the chest and fell to the ground, dead. The earth pony’s friend turned to try to run away, but Quake was quick to turn the rifle on him. Soon, the second earth pony was shot him down as well. Not even stopping to look at the dead bodies, Quake spat the rifle back at his lieutenant, who stumbled backwards as it hit him the face.

“The next time I give you a fucking order,” said Quake, “you fucking do it instead of standing there like a retard. Got it?”

“Y-yes sir!” stammered the lieutenant.

“And don’t fucking stammer,” said the general, still annoyed by his meeting with Brother Scroll.

Fucking looters, Quake thought to himself. Every once in a while, somepony thought he’d try to grab some fruit from one of the trees. His trees. In a way, he was somewhat relieved. Those two shits had given him something to kill, which he didn’t often have a reason to do when there wasn’t an attack going on. Killing usually helped him blow off a little bit of steam, but today he was just annoyed. He wasn’t here to pick up his guards’ slack. The forest was not what Quake was concerned about right now. That’s not to say he didn’t give a fuck about the forest, but the purpose of this visit was slightly different.

Further in, the trees were denser, as the damage from the unicorn attack hadn’t reached here. Eventually, however, the trees stopped, and there was a large basin filled with water – a lake of sorts, but the water didn’t fill the entire basin. There were several of these lakes, which served the island’s reservoirs, with a network of irrigation that watered the entire forest. It was a lot of water, for sure, but it was strained. Overlooking the lake was a cliff. The general looked up.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Get your ass out here!”

A very bored-looking earth pony walked out onto the edge of the cliff.

“Turn it on!” barked the general.

“Uhhh, sir?” asked the pony. “We’re not scheduled to do that until–”

“I don’t give a fuck about when you’ve got scheduled, turn it on!” Quake barked. The pony on the cliff took a deep breath and walked away from the edge. Quake stood there, pawing the ground impatiently. “I shouldn’t have to tell ponies twice about simple things like ‘shoot them’ or ‘turn on the fucking–’”

Just then, a torrent of water poured over the cliff, crashing into the lake below with a thundering, tumultuous roar.

“Fucking finally...” muttered the general.

___________

Quake couldn’t help but see everything in the town as flimsy. When Quake had enough raw strength to shake the island with a stomp of his hoof, the buildings in town seemed like they were made of balsa wood.

He got an idea – how about constructing buildings out of stone? Those wouldn’t break so easily. Then again, being on an island, they didn’t have a rock quarry, meaning they’d need to import the stone.

Importing stone, he thought, that’s retarded.

He also figured that making stone houses would take too long, and it seemed unnecessary when the earth ponies had so quickly rebuilt and had gone back to business as usual. He looked over at one familiar spot – the tavern. Already up and in business.

He stepped through the door, looking around. The place already looked like it’d been well-worn, despite having just been rebuilt. Maybe a drunk had pissed on the floor; he didn’t know. He saw that Tap was working alone at the counter while a group of ponies played cards at a table in the corner.

“Quick to get back on your feet, aren’t you?” asked Quake, walking up to the counter. “Where’s your brother?”

“He’s with the missionaries,” Tap said, sounding as bored as ever, “something about a giant trampoline...”

“Those two...” said Quake. “You hang around with them a lot. Why?”

“I’m hoping I get to see them make out,” Tap said, looking up. “You want something?”

“A drink,” said Quake, sitting at the counter. “There isn’t anything to break, so I need some fucking booze.”

Tap might’ve said something snarky in response to that, but making smart remarks to Quake tended to not end well. Instead, she just put a bottle in front of him. Moving on with her work, she put some other drinks on a tray, before leaving the counter to serve the card-players. Quake turned his head and watched her as she did so, smiling a little at the way she walked.

When Tap had dropped off the drinks, she turned around and saw the general leering at her. She stopped for a minute before taking a breath and walking back to the counter.

The general smirked. She was scared of him. Everypony was, and that was how he liked it. He didn’t own this island because he had the biggest guns or the biggest army or because he was probably strong enough to sink the entire fucking rock into the ocean if he felt like it. Well, come to think of it, that might’ve been it. The point was, he owned it. Nopony would ever stand up to him, because he was the only thing standing between them and a horde of horners and wingers who were a lot less nice to them than he was.

“I like you, Tap,” said the general, “and not just because you’re a great piece of ass.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, y’know,” she said, “you just need to pay.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you plenty,” said Quake, “but I’m just sayin’. I don’t think anypony on this entire fucking island really appreciates you like I do.” Tap stopped what she was doing. Slowly, she turned around, a quizzical expression on her face. “All these other guys,” Quake said, gesturing to the card-players, “they just think of you as some bitch they can stick their dick in. Not me, though.” He leaned over the counter. “I respect you.”

“Respect me?” Tap asked dubiously, but not with her usual sardonic tone. “What do you mean by that?”

“I think you’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” said the general, “you’ve got a lot more sense than most of the dipshits I surround myself with. That’s why I pay for you.” He got up from the counter, leaving Tap relieved that it seemed he was going to get out. However, Quake did not exit the building, but instead walked right through the opening in the counter that Tap walked out of to deliver drinks.

“What’re you doing?” Tap asked, stepping back as the general cornered her. She wasn’t one to lose her cool, but now, for maybe the first time, the general was personally scaring her.

“See that?” Quake asked, approaching her. “That’s what I can do. Anywhere. My island, my way,” he said, walking up to her until his face was right in front of hers. “If I wanted I could just take you, but I don’t.” He smiled. “I think you’re worth it.” He closed his eyes and lowered his head into her mane, sniffing. “And I can give you anything you need,” he breathed, “for the small price of anything I want.”

He stepped away. “I’ll see you later, Tap,” he said, turning to leave. Tap sank against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

___________

The general continued walking through the town. He was going to pay a visit to the missionaries. Although part of him told him he’d regret it, he had a sack over his shoulder and an idea. When he came to the mission house, he sneered. It seemed like the building was every bit as smug and faggy as the missionaries it housed. And there was a cock on the door, too. Fitting. The thing he found confusing, however, was the giant trampoline out in front of the building. Just... sitting there. Quake puzzled over it for a minute before shaking his head. He marched through the doors to see White and Clip sitting in a corner of the room. They were on the floor with book in front of them. White had a hoof on a page, while Clip tried to follow along.

“Dancer... has...” Clip read. He stopped, peering more closely at the book. “Cloh-ooh...”

“Cloudchaser,” said White.

“Cloudchaser’s,” Clip continued, “ball.”

“That’s very good, Clip,” said White. “That was a long word.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” said Quake. The two ponies looked up at him, startled.

“All ready!” called Scroll’s voice from the kitchen, before he trotted out with a plate stacked with these odd-smelling brown-and-yellow bread things in his mouth. He, too, saw the general, and stopped.

Quake looked at the contents of the plate. “The fuck are those?”

“Grilled cheese sandwhiches,” said Scroll through his teeth, “want one?”

“No,” said Quake, sharply, leaving Scroll despondent that his cooking had once again been brushed off.

“Clip,” whispered White to the pink colt, “why don’t you take one of Scroll’s sandwiches and go in the kitchen?”

“Okay!” said Clip, bounding up to Scroll. Quake watched with a slightly confused expression as the crippled pegasus trotted into the kitchen with a grilled cheese sandwich.

“So,” Quake continued, “it’s come to my attention that when you two fags aren’t doing each others’ asses, you want to ‘help.’” He slipped the sack off of his shoulder, where it hit the ground with a loud THUD! “Well, here’s your golden fucking opportunity.”

The general lowered his head, biting the sack. He lifted his head again, taking away the sack, and revealing the contents. It was a contraption attached to a tripod, with a set of metal discs next to it. Scroll set the plate of sandwiches down and adjusted his glasses. White froze. He recognized what it was.

“That’s a... that’s a...” said White, shaking a hoof at it.

“Disc launcher,” said Quake. “It’s very simple. You set it up, load up a disc, and when the wingers send down one of their fucking tornadoes, ya shoot at it. Discs go flyin’ around and slice ‘em up. Ya got that?”

“But that...” Scroll said, recoiling from the realization.

“What’s the matter, Scroll?” Quake asked. “Too much of a pussy? Howabout you, White?” he looked at the still-frozen Brother White. “Oh, wait, I forgot, you’re a fucking horner. You’re all pussies.”

“No...” said White, “you can’t ask us to do that...”

“Not asking you,” Quake said. “I’m just suggesting that maybe if you two butt-munchers really want to help, then here’s something you can do. So the next time the wingers come here, and they send down a tornado, then use this. Who knows, maybe you two useless fucking fags could save a few of our lives.”

Scroll looked from the device on the floor back up to Quake, who was smirking. “Listen, sir,” he said, “we... we can’t. This, this device,” he waved a hoof at it, “it’s a horrific instrument of war. We can’t use it, it’d violate several of the Fraternity’s principles.”

“And what’ve your fucking Fraternity’s principles got you?” Quake asked. “Huh?” The Brothers were silent. “Nothin’, that’s what. A big fat fuckload of nothin’.” He walked up to the front desk, where the Fraternity’s books were stacked. “See this? This is the book you’re handing out?” He lifted a hoof and opened one of the books. “Dear Princess Celestia...” he read in a mocking voice. He swung his hoof, scattering the books across the room. “Give me a fucking break.” He turned his head to look at the Brothers. Scroll was cowering behind White, who was staring at him. “What’re you looking at me like that? You checking my ass again?”

“You ask us what it’s gotten us?” White asked. “I’ll tell you what.” He put his foreleg around Scroll. “It’s brought us together. And general, I think that if you just honestly listened to us, you might learn something.”

General Quake stared at White for what seemed like hours. “Fuck if I care,” he said. “There’s your disc launcher. Use it or don’t.” And with that, he turned and marched out of the mission house, leaving its inhabitants huddled in the corner.

He thought about them while he walked through the town. He knew they wouldn’t do it. They’d just shove that thing in a corner and go back to fucking each other or whatever it was those gay ponies did. He thought to himself how much they pissed him off, what with their singing and their smiling and their “we wanna be your friend” shit. White always stood there with that cocksucking grin on his face, and Scroll was always behind him being oh-so-preciously meek.

“Well, fuck ‘em!” Quake said to himself.

---

Chapter 14

General Storm looked up and down the long line of young ponies. They all looked at her, nervous, like they’d arrived for a test they hadn’t studied for. She smirked; she liked it when they got nervous. It gave her a sense of pride and solidified a feeling of authority. She liked that feeling.

The ponies were all lined up at the edge of the cloud, peering down nervously at the water below. Storm flapped her wings, hovering over the open space, her light-blue mane too short to move with the wing. She went down the line, eyeing the young ponies with a cold gaze that matched her grey coat.

“Today,” she said, with a cold, cutting voice, “we find out which of you are fit to serve on my Stormcloud.” The young ponies shuffled their hooves nervously. “I don’t think it’s too difficult. It’s very simple. You just have to fly back here. If you can, then you’ve passed. If not...” she gestured to the open water below.

She looked down the line again. She spotted one little pony - a pink colt with a cloud for a cutie mark. She flew up to him.

“How about you, pinko?” she asked. The colt’s head jerked up sharply. General Storm got a better look at the cutie mark. It wasn’t just a cloud, it was a cloud with a smiley face on it. “You feel up to it?” She sneered.

“Y-yes!” said the pink colt.

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir...” the pink colt said. He’d forgotten to address the general by her proper title. His peers snickered, and his head sank, completely mortified.

“I hope so for your sake,” said the general. “Now!” she announced to the rest of the ponies, “The instruction is to fall freely for five seconds, and then recover. Once you make it back to the Stormcloud, congratulations! That means you deserve to survive this long.”

The pink colt looked behind them. There were the soldiers, all standing impassively by. Well, most of them were impassive - one young orange stallion seemed to be smiling in a manner that unsettled the colt.

“Well?” barked the general. “Do it!”

Immediately, a cocky filly jumped off of the edge of the cloud. Everypony watched with baited breath as she fell. Then, extending her wings, she soared up into the air again, before landing back onto the cloud. The general smiled. Nervously, a few more foals jumped off. They, too, all made it back. The air was filled with elated shouts as the ponies passed their tests and got a grip on their flying.

The general smiled. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that everypony was passing; it was a stupidly simple task, but it always filled her with disgust when a foal wasn’t able to perform the simple task of flapping its damn wings. As far as she was concerned, if the little snots couldn’t fly, they deserved to drown. Or better yet, she thought, what would happen if they washed up on Earthquake Island?

The test was going remarkably well. Every single foal had passed. Well, that wasn’t true. There was a single foal that hadn’t gone: the little pink colt. He was standing there, staring down at the edge, one hoof raised tentatively.

“What are you waiting for?” Storm barked. The pink colt cringed.

“I... I...”

“JUMP!” shouted the general. The little pink colt, however, couldn’t do it. He was too frightened and he knew that he wasn’t the strongest flier. “If you won’t jump,” Storm said coldly, “we’ll throw you off.”

One of the soldiers moved. It was the orange one with the black mane who’d been grinning the entire time.

“Eagle,” said the general.

“Yes, sir!” Eagle responded eagerly.

General Storm nodded her head. The pink colt turned his head, frozen in fear as he watched the soldier march up to him.

“Well, squirt?” Eagle said, lowering his head. “What’s the matter? Scared? You know we don’t like cowards...”

“Eagle, just do it,” sighed the general, who really wanted this whole boring test to finish. Eagle lowered his head and put his teeth around the back of the colt’s neck, lifting him off the surface of the cloud. The colt flailed his legs, terrified and struggling to get free as the soldier jerked his head and tossed him over the side of the cloud.

The colt didn’t bother waiting for five seconds. Not like it mattered. He flailed his legs and his wings, but he couldn’t catch the air. He couldn’t recover. He couldn’t fly. Helplessly, he fell down into the cold, uncaring sea.

___________

Clip woke up with a start. He’d had a bad dream. He peered around, clutching at the covers of his bed, peering through the darkness. Everything was silent, save for the sound of breathing.

Cautiously, Clip crept over to the ladder, and carefully climbed down. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw Brother White and Brother Scroll sleeping soundly in the lower bunk. His back hoof touched the floor, and he stood at the side of their bed. Scroll was closest to him.

“Scroll?” he whispered. “Scroll, are you awake?”

“Wuh?” mumbled Scroll as he was prematurely roused from his sleep. “Uhh...” he mumbled,  “Clip?”

“I had a bad dream,” said the pink colt. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“Oh...” Scroll yawned, “alright.” With some effort, he sat up. Putting on his glasses and lighting a candle, he got out of bed, and headed for the kitchen. He was still a little groggy, so he found himself in the storage room before he got to the kitchen, but the two ponies got there without any real incident.

Scroll went to the cupboard and got a glass while Clip climbed up onto the counter. Despite the fact that he’d lost his wings, he still showed a proclivity for high places: roofs, the top bunk, etc.

Scroll went to the sink and filled the glass with water. He gave it to the little colt, who, taking it in his hooves, slowly drank from it.

“Feeling better?” asked Scroll.

Clip nodded, his mouth being too full of water to speak.

“Alright, then,” said Scroll, “now...”

“Can I stay up?” asked Clip.

Scroll stopped mid-sentence. “Umm...”

“I mean, if it’s okay...”

Scroll looked around. The room was dim, illuminated only by a single candle. “You know what? Sure,” he said, “just let me get some more candles.”

Clip sat there, drinking his water as Scroll scurried off. A few minutes later, he walked back into the room with several candles in holders, balanced along his head and spine.

Scroll carefully placed the candles along the counter. “Hey, you wanna see something cool?” he asked. Clip nodded. “Okay, gimme the cup,” said Scroll, taking the cup. “Can you get the sugar out of the cupboard?”

“Okay,” said Clip, walking along the counter while Scroll filled the glass with more water. Clip opened the cupboard, quickly finding the bag of sugar and carrying it down to the counter, though not without some difficulty.

“Alright then,” said Scroll, taking a spoon out of the drawer as Clip opened the back of sugar. “Time for a chemistry lesson.”

Scroll began scooping large spoonfuls of sugar into the glass of water. When he was satisfied that there was enough, he stirred the water. “Now,” he said, “sugar dissolves in water, right?”

“Uh-huh,” said Clip.

“When the sugar dissolves in the water, we get what’s called a ‘solution.’” He placed the spoon down, and motioned for Clip to look at the mixture. “You see that?” he said, tapping the bottom of the glass, where there was still some undissolved sugar. “It can’t dissolve that. The solution is saturated.”

Clip watched this, interested. He didn’t really know anything about science.

“However,” said Scroll, taking the glass over to the stove and placing it on a pan, “if we heat it up...” He flipped the switch.

“Then what?”

“Well,” said Scroll with an eager grin, “then we wait.” He looked at the colt. “Is there anything you’d like to do? We could play a game, or I could cook something, or I could read to you...”

“Do you have a lot of books?” asked Clip.

“You bet I do!” said Scroll. “Brought a bunch from home. Hopefully my parents send more. Wanna see them?”

“Yeah!” said Clip, climbing down from the counter, as Scroll led back into the bunk room. The two were careful not to wake White, who was still sleeping soundly. Scroll carefully stuck his head under the bunk, and took out a box.

“Let’s go read this in the main room,” he whispered.

Scroll hauled the trunk into the main room, while Clip carried a candle. Scroll gingerly lifted the lid of the trunk as Clip peered inside, seeing all kinds of books.

“Let’s see here...” said Scroll, sorting through the books. “When I got into the Fraternity, I started reading a whole lot of their literature - The Everlasting Friend, The Rotclop Letters, The-” He cut himself off, seeing a book that probably shouldn’t have been in there and definitely wasn’t something he wanted Clip or anypony else to see. “That’s nothing...” he said, hastily hiding it. Thankfully, the candlelight was so dim it was almost impossible to see his face turning red.

Clip’s eyes, however, fell on something else entirely - rather than the bland, seldom-illustrated covers of books that expounded on philosophy or poetry, he found himself drawn to some smaller books that had much brighter colors depicting exciting scenes. “What’re those?” he asked.

“Huh?” Scroll asked, still hastily putting his other questionable book somewhere out of site. “Oh, those? Those are my comic books.”

“They look cool.”

“They are cool,” said a grinning Scroll. He never had anyone to share them with before. “There are a bunch of them. This is Tales from the Wasteland, though they’re a bit too violent for-” he stopped, looking at Clip, with his scars and burned flanks. “Well, they’re kinda depressing,” he said, changing his reasoning. He picked up another comic. “This one is Picturesque Picaresques, these ones are funny, this is Alfred Hitch-Hock Presents, The Incredible Gigatrot...”

“What’s that?” Clip asked, looking at another one. This one caught his eye - it was a bright, flashy cover that was crowded with about a dozen ponies, but there was one giant pony in the background - a bright gold stallion with both wings and a horn.

STAR HORSE was the title. Who is the amazing stallion? You absolutely can not miss this shocking issue in which, for the very first time, the true identity of this great hero will be revealed!!!

Scroll smiled. “This is Star Horse,” he said, “my favorite superhero.” He took the comic and placed it in front of them, opening it to the first page... which was an advertisement for glow-in-the-dark horseshoes.

“Alright,” said Scroll, turning to the first page of the actual story. “So, a star fell from the sky one day, but this wasn’t an ordinary star - this fallen star contained powerful magic.”

“What did the magic do?” asked Clip. Scroll turned the page, showing the two princesses standing in front of a tiny star.

“Oh, it held the power of a star. It was too powerful to just let anypony take it. They decided they had to guard it and make sure that only the right pony got it.”

“And who was the right pony?”

Scroll turned the page again, and Clip gasped.

“This is Big Scoop. He’s a reporter,” said Scroll, but Clip was amazed - the pony in the comic book had a dark blue coat, a black mane, glasses, a rolled-up Scroll as a cutie mark...

“He looks just like you!”

“Heh...” Scroll laughed. “It’s a funny story, really. Ponies at school, they told me that I looked just like Big Scoop from this comic, so I decided to read an issue, and, well... now I’m a fan.”

“You must have a lot of friends back in Equestria, right?” Clip asked.

Scroll was quiet for a minute, thinking. He thought back to his days in school. He thought about how bullies made fun of him and stole his lunch money. He thought about how he never got a date to any of the school dances. He thought about how he was always picked last on every team, even for games he wasn’t bad at. He looked back at Clip, who looked back up at him, wide-eyed.

“Yes,” said Scroll. He took a deep breath. “Hold on,” he said, getting up, “I’m gonna check on that glass of water.” He left, carrying a candle. Clip sat there, paging through the comic. He couldn’t read it, but he saw the bright, colorful pictures of Star Horse bucking out scary-looking bad guys and shooting lasers from his horn. But there was more to it than beating other ponies up - at other points he was talking with an attractive mare, taking her flying.

Scroll returned from the kitchen, carefully balancing the glass of water on his head. “Okay,” he said, setting it down. “Now, what do you notice about the water that’s different?”

Clip looked at it, tilting his head. “Uhhh...”

“The sugar in the bottom,” said Scroll, “has completely dissolved. You see, when the liquid gets hotter, it can dissolve more before it’s saturated. Now, we’ll leave it to cool down for awhile...”

They returned to the comic book, and Scroll explained what was going on.

There was a simple earth pony, a reporter named Big Scoop. His peers picked on him and teased him, and the one mare he had affections for, Letterary the columnist, regarded him as little more than a dweeb with a crush.

Big Scoop, however, won an award for his investigative journalism that uncovered the criminal activities of a unicorn named Willpower. For this, the princesses chose him to receive the power of the fallen star. Through his journalism, he proved that he was devoted to truth and justice - he had exposed political corruption, crime, vindicated the innocent, and spread truth. This was the pony that could be trusted with the power of the star, and with it, he became Star Horse, tasked with defending Equestria from evil-doers within and without.

But for all the fighting he did, he was never violent. He never used dangerous weapons, he never killed anypony, and whenever possible, he’d try to talk down the bad guy before fighting.

Then the next page was an advertisement for Blooming Balloon Bubble Gum, which purportedly allowed its chewers to blow bubbles so big they could use them to float.

“Okay,” said Scroll, bringing attention back to the glass of sugar-water. “Now, as I mentioned, as the temperature goes up, the water can dissolve more sugar. However, now it’s cooled down, but the sugar is still dissolved.”

“Huh,” said Clip. “So...”

“The solution is supersaturated. That means that it isn’t very stable.” Scroll lifted a hoof. “So, if it’s jostled...” he tapped the glass with his hoof, and in a flash, the suspended sugar crystalized. Clip backed up, startled.

“Woah...” said the colt.

“Cool, right?” asked Scroll, grinning like he’d just gotten a high pinball score.

“If it’s unstable, does that mean it’s dangerous?”

“Oh, nah,” said Scroll, going back to the comic.

Sure enough, Willpower the unicorn was jealous of Star Horse. Will had been a powerful sorcerer, but Star Horse seemed to be getting all the glory. Deciding that Star Horse was the cause of all of his problems, Will swore to bring him down. That was where the issue ended.

“Next issue?” asked Scroll.

“Yeah!” Clip nodded eagerly. He watched as Scroll took out the next issue. “Y’know, you really do look just like him.”

“Weeeeeelll,” said Scroll, chuckling, “maybe I am Big Scoop.” He grinned. “Maybe I secretly am Star Horse, and the only reason I let other ponies beat me up is so that Willpower doesn’t find who I am. And when you’re not looking I’m flying across the stars, fighting to defend Equestria!”

Clip chuckled. Of course, he knew Scroll wasn’t really Big Scoop or Star Horse. He knew that couldn’t be. Big Scoop was in love with some dumb columnist, but Clip knew that Scroll was in love with Brother White.

___________

“Well, what do we do?” the soldier had asked. “I mean, we can’t just let him fly off...”

“Well, then make sure he doesn’t fucking fly off,” another pony had said. “Now, if you’ll kindly fucking excuse me, I have to go do anything else.”

The colt was scared. He’d just been thrown out of his home, and he couldn’t get back - even if he could get back, he wouldn’t be welcome. Now he was on an island full of ponies he didn’t know and who might’ve been happy to see him killed. Now he had absolutely no idea what was in his future.

Now he was chained to a table, unable to move. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the earth ponies did... whatever it was they were doing. He didn’t know what they were doing, but he knew it wasn’t good.

He’d been brought up to hate the “dirts,” as the other pegasi had called them: the ponies who wallowed in the mud below. He was now fairly convinced that they were every bit as bad as he’d been told.

They’d found him washed up on the beach. At first they considered shooting him, but now they’d decided on something different. They’d taken him before another pony, a hulking stallion that the colt knew had to be General Quake. The general, however, didn’t seem to care, and had just brushed them off.

The air was hot and musty, and the colt was sweating. “What... what are you going to do to me?” he asked timidly. The earth ponies didn’t answer him.

“All right,” said one of them from a furnace. “Hold him down, make sure he doesn’t squirm too much.”

The little pink colt was approached by two other ponies, who pressed down on him with their hooves. He wanted to struggle, but he couldn’t move. He saw the other pony, the one at the furnace, turn around. In his mouth, he held an iron rod, the end of which was flat and glowing red-hot.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Well, you’re a little winger,” said the earth pony. “We’re just gonna make you ‘fit in’ a little better.”

The colt’s eyes went wide as the pony circled around him. He tried harder to struggle, but the more he tried, the more the other two ponies pressed down. He couldn’t move a muscle, but he couldn’t stop trying; he was starting to panic. He knew something horrible was coming, something he couldn’t bear to think was possible. He wasn’t sure what he remembered first - the vicious hiss or the searing pain - as the dirt pressed the red-hot iron against his flank.

“AAH!” the colt screamed. “NO! NO! PLEASE STOP!”

“Shut him up, will you!” barked the pony with the iron. Another pony grabbed the colt’s mouth and held it shut. That didn’t stop the screaming though, it just muffled it, as tears streamed down his face. The earth pony circled around to his other flank. The colt nearly choked on himself as the iron came down on his other flank.

He couldn’t see it, but he knew what was going on: they were burning off his cutie mark. They were erasing the one thing that made him special.

The iron was lifted from his flank, and the other earth ponies released him. He still couldn’t move, due to the chains, but he opened his mouth and gasped for air, crying.

“Oh, quit snivelling, you little shit-wing,” said one of the dirts. Another pony undid a chain around his midsection. “Spread out your wing.”

“Huh?” asked the colt, his eyes shifting.

“Spread out your fucking wing.”

Clip was shaking as he tried to comply, but part of him wanted to hold those wings as close to him as possible and never let go. “Oh, fucking...” the earth pony muttered. The dirt reached over and grabbed his wing, pulling it over so it extended.

“You there, ready?” he asked another earth pony. The colt’s eyes flickered as he saw a bright, silvery glint. Not waiting for him to start trying to struggle, the other earth ponies restrained him again. He saw the pony approaching, carrying a large knife. The colt clamped his eyes shut, wishing to himself that none of this was really happening. The steel blade came down, but it was like ice, unlike the burning iron. It cut right through the joints of his wing, severing it. He tensed up in pain, pulling the stub of the wing away from the knife. His captors forced him to spread his other wing, and the pony with the knife circled around. The colt didn’t even try to struggle any more. It was over. He’d lost one wing, and he’d never fly again. He just whimpered as the knife came down on his remaining wing. Blood was beginning to dry on the table.

One of the earth ponies looked at him. “Quit your snivelling,” he said. “You’re lucky we didn’t throw you right back into the ocean.”

The colt sniffled a little, before gasping again as the knife went into his back. They weren’t finished, as there were still the stumps of the wings to remove.

That was what happened the day that Clip came to Earthquake Island. This was the nightmare that Clip had, back to the memory of the day the earth ponies took away his wings and his cutie mark. But this time, for once, the dream ended differently.

There was a loud banging on the door. The earth ponies turned to look in shock, as another bang knocked the door right off of its hinges, flooding the room with a blinding light. The pink colt, however, did not flinch. He saw a magnificent golden stallion regally step into the room, his majestic wings spread. Every step of his was a proud, powerful declamation. The earth ponies gazed at him, letting out a simultaneous shocked gasp. There, standing in the doorway, was Star Horse.

Star Horse looked upon them, his golden horn gleaming and his pristine mane draped flowingly over his neck. Suddenly, the earth pony with the knife charged at him. The stallion retaliated, shooting a spark from his horn that sent the knife flying out of the attacker’s mouth and embedded it into a nearby wall. The earth pony looked around stupidly, before Star Horse’s horn glowed again, lifting the earth pony into the air and chucking him out a window. He looked at the remaining earth ponies, smiling as though to say “your turn.”

Deciding not to take him one at a time, two of the other earth ponies charged at him, armed with nothing. The unicorn’s horn glowed again, and the two earth ponies were enveloped in a dull glow. They jerked towards each other, their heads colliding, before they resumed charging. However, the two charged right past him and crashed into the wall behind him.

“You two aren’t right in the head,” said Star Horse, before looking back at the chained-down colt. He slowly walked up to the table, where the last remaining earth pony was cowering. “Release him,” the stallion said softly.

“Huh?” asked the cowering earth pony.

“I told you to let him go.”

Trembling, the earth pony undid the chains that held Clip on the table.

“Now get out,” said the stallion. The earth pony took the advice, running out a blubbering wreck. Star Horse looked at the pink colt, a kind smile on his face. “All right,” he said, “let’s get you out of here.”

“I’m going with you?” The pink colt stood up slowly. He was weak, and his back was caked with blood.

“You sure are,” said Star Horse, turning around. “Climb on my back.” Timidly, the colt walked onto the stallion’s back. “Hold on...”

“Huh?”

A blast from the unicorn’s horn blew the roof clean off of the building, and he leaped into the air, his wings spread. The colt looked down as they left behind the awful building, and the filthy town and the whole miserable island seemed to shrink beneath them as they soared into the sky.

“Do I...” the colt asked, “do I have to go back to the Stormcloud?”

“No,” said Star Horse, “I’ll take you far away from here. I’ll take you up to Equestria, and there you’ll see Canterlot and the princesses. Then I’ll take you flying along the stars and you’ll see everything you’ve ever imagined. And then when we’re all done with that, I’ll take you home and you can meet my husband.”

---

Chapter 15

“Okay, so...” Scroll mumbled. He had a checklist in front of him. “Breakfast for Clip...” He glanced over at the colt in question, who was chewing on a piece of toast. “Check. Breakfast for the bum...” He looked over at a shabby earth pony who had passed out next to a plate of eggs. “Uhhh, White? Is that ‘check’ or ‘not-check?’”

White poked his head out of the bathroom. “I think it’s a ‘check.’” He stepped out of the bathroom and made his way towards the kitchen. “So is that everything in order?”

“Cookie plate...” He looked over at the plate of cookies on the desk. “Check.”

“Can I have some?” asked Clip.

“You can have one cookie, Clip,” said White. “Remember, the free food is for the guests... if we get visitors.”

“You all set?” asked Scroll.

“Yeah,” said White as he stepped into the kitchen. “Just give me a minute.”

There were a few assorted items on the counter: a basket, a red-checkered cloth, teacups, and some sandwiches. A tea kettle was whistling on the stove. Using his magic, White lifted the kettle and placed it in the basket, before packing in the cups, sandwiches, and cloth. Now he had a nice little picnic basket, and he could have a nice little picnic.

It’d be a bit of a break for the two Brothers, and one that White thought was well-deserved. A few days ago Scroll asked if they could just have a day for themselves: no mission work, no worrying about getting lynched; just a nice, quiet day outside of the town. Maybe they could chat and get to know each other better. He’d never really asked Scroll about his personal life: friends, family, hobbies, or any of that. He knew that Scroll had joined the Fraternity fairly recently, and didn’t have many friends before. He knew that Scroll was smart and liked to read and got nervous easily. He knew that Scroll was adorable and got laid first.

“Aah!” cried out Clip’s voice. White rushed out of the kitchen.

“What is it?” asked White.

“My tooth...” said Clip, holding his jaw with his hooves. “I think I have a toothache.”

“Well, let me take a look,” said White. He knelt down in front of Clip. “Alright, Clip, say ‘ahhh.’”

“‘AhhAH!’” Clip opened his mouth, then leaned back in surprise when he found he couldn’t close it.

“It’s alright, it’s alright...” said White. His horn was glowing; he was holding Clip’s mouth open. “Just hold still while I take a look...” He leaned forward, peering into his mouth. “Can’t really see anything serious. It just hurts a little?”

“Ah-hah,” said Clip, who was sitting there awkwardly.

“Well, let’s see...” A small flash of light came from his horn. “That better?”

“Yeah...” said Clip, rubbing his jaw. “Was that magic?”

“Yep!” said Brother White. “You see, with unicorns, our magic corresponds to our special talents. Now, my cutie mark is a smile, so my magic has to do with teeth.”

“What about ponies that aren’t unicorns?” asked Clip. “What do they mean for them?”

“Well, cutie marks generally relate to a special talent,” explained White. He looked at Scroll. “That’s right, right?” Scroll nodded.

“My cutie mark is, well,” Scroll said, “it’s in my name. There are a lot of ponies with cutie marks like mine, actually.”

“So...” said Clip, “does that mean that you’re less special?”

“Uh...” Scroll stammered, “Well, uh, well...”

“It’s not quite that,” said White. “Scroll’s special talent just so happens to be, well...” he looked at Scroll. “Reading?”

“Something like that...”

“Well, there are lots of ponies that do more academical things like studying, rather than specific talents like blowing bubbles and building houses. So just because Scroll has the same cutie mark as a lot of other ponies doesn’t mean anything.” He threw a foreleg around Scroll’s neck. “He’s my very special buddy, and I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

Clip looked down at the floor, sadly. “I don’t have a cutie mark anymore...”

White’s smile faltered, and he stepped away from Scroll. He slowly walked up to Clip and knelt down on the floor.

“Clip, listen,” said White. “Your cutie mark just shows your talent. The mark itself isn’t what makes you special. There is nopony in the world just like you, Clip, and nopony can ever take that away. Remember that.” He lifted Clip’s chin with his hoof. “C’mon and give us a smile.”

“What about him?” Clip asked, pointing at the bum.

“Same goes for him,” said White. “His talent is probably making bottles. It’s a useful skill.” Clip giggled a little. “There we go,” said White as he stood up.

“We didn’t call them cutie marks on the Stormcloud,” said Clip. “I don’t think they call them those here.” He looked down. “General Storm doesn’t like ‘cute.’”

“Well,” said Scroll, “she’s kinda a bitch, so...”

“Now, Brother Scroll,” reprimanded Brother White. “That isn’t language we want to use.”

“But she tried to murder me...”

“Anypony who’d try to kill Scroll is totally a bitch!” exclaimed Clip. White and Scroll both looked at him open-mouthed. Scroll closed his mouth, and his face bore the expression of somepony who just discovered he’d made a huge mistake.

“Well...” White took a deep breath. “You have a point, but let’s just try not to use that kind of language, okay? Anyway, let’s go, Scroll. We’ll see you later, Clip. And remember, one cookie, and make sure to work on your reading. Barrel will be over later to check up and see that everything’s okay.”

White threw the door open floating the picnic basket and a sign in front of him. Cautiously, he stepped outside, carrying the sign in front of him. Scroll followed behind him; Scroll wasn’t quite so fearful of his own safety, but White held up his sign, reading Please Don’t Shoot.

___________

As they were on an island, it logically followed that there would be a beach somewhere outside of the town. It looked like a normal beach with sand and waves and most of the things one expects on a beach, but there was something off about it; something melancholy. The beach was completely deserted - normally at a beach one could find foals building sandcastles or stallions surfing or mares sunbathing, but not here. Here the only sounds were the calls of the seabirds in the deathly still air.

Still, there was something nice about that. Considering that the town seemed to consist almost solely of assholes, a chance for a pony to get away and spend time with a very best friend was very welcome.

White set down the basket before talking out the red-checkered cloth. It hovered in the air with a soft white aura before spreading and gently floating down to the ground. Scroll lifted the teapot out of the basket and set it onto the spread, while White set up the teacups and the plate of sandwiches.

Scroll sat on the cloth, looking out at the waves as they gently lapped at the shore. “Ahh, this is nice,” said White as he sat down, pouring out some tea. “Kinda eerie, though - no wind.”

“Well, no pegasi,” shrugged Scroll. “If somepony here felt a breeze they’d probably run for their guns.”

“That’s...” said White. “That’s depressing.”

“Yeah,” said Scroll. He leaned down and took the teacup in his mouth.

“So, what are your plans for when the mission’s over?” asked White.

“Oh...” Scroll took a sip of tea before placing down the cup. “I’ll probably go to college. Don’t know what I want to study. You said you were gonna go to dental school?”

“Yeah. Good money there,” said White. “And lots of smiles. I like smiles.”

“Just like Pinkie Pie?”

“Just like Pinkie Pie,” White laughed. “What do you like, Scroll?”

“Oh...” Scroll said. “Just stuff. I like books...”

“What’s your favorite one?”

Scroll looked at White. This was somewhat different: he’d never had a pony who seemed interested in asking about him. “My favorite book?” he asked. “Well... that’s kind of hard. There’s one I really like, though. It’s called The Steadfast. It’s about this guy in a far-off land who’s all alone against all these... these horrible, corrupt ponies. They try to get him to give in, but he doesn’t.”

“Does it have a happy ending?”

“Oh, yeah, it does,” said Scroll. “He wins and everything. And I love that book. It’s just... even when it’s so, so hard for him to win, even when it’s absolutely impossible... he does what he thinks is right. I find it inspiring.”

“Well, I’ll have to give it a read,” said White. “Sandwich?” Scroll was snapped out of his reminiscing about the book by the cucumber sandwich floating in front of him.

“Thanks,” he said. “I always wished I could be like him.” He looked down. “White?”

“Yeah?” asked White.

“I did something awful.”

White slowly put his teacup back onto the saucer.

“I told a lie,” said Scroll. “I lied to Clip. I told him I had a lot of friends, and I wanted him to look up to me, and... and...” He took a deep breath. “I don’t have any friends back home. That’s why I joined the Fraternity.”

“Well...” said White, his voice barely above a whisper. “Um... You’ll have to tell him the truth.”

“I know...” Scroll said. “It’s just... I wanted him to look up to me. Now he won’t be able to, because I’m a lying loser.” He looked back down, not wanting to look White in the eye. This was stupid, he thought. He was prattling about his insecurities to Brother White, and now White would think less of him...

“You’re not a loser, Scroll.”

“B-but...” stammered Scroll, “I’m a coward, and a wuss, and I break down after getting pity sex from a cute girl...” He felt something. He looked down and saw White’s hoof on his own. He looked up and his eyes locked with White’s.

“Scroll,” said White, “I’m going to tell you everything that I think is great about you.”

Scroll looked up at him. White was gazing at him, his eyes completely fixed. “You’re smart, Scroll. A lot smarter than I am. You’ve only been in the Fraternity for, what, less than a year? I mean, you know more about it than I do, and I’ve been in it my whole life.”

“Well...”

“And you’re not a coward,” White continued, “just scared. We’re all scared. And if you were a coward you’d have gotten right back on that boat and gone home. But you didn’t. You stayed here, and you’ve stuck to the mission, even when it’s hard. That’s courage, Scroll, not cowardice.”

“I guess...” said Scroll. “But I don’t think I could’ve stayed here if it wasn’t for you.”

“Aw, that’s alright. We all need a little help sometimes. That’s what friends are for, right?” White smiled. “C’mon, let’s see a smile.”

Scroll giggled a little.

“C’mon, smile,” said White, “I’m a dentist and I wanna see a smile.”

Scroll grinned bashfully. “Thanks.”

“Scroll, I want you to know this, no matter how much the other earth ponies here pick on you. It doesn’t matter if they tell you you’re worthless, or a pussy, or a... a faggot, because you’re not. You’re a wonderful pony, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be with. And if you ever feel scared, or depressed, or lonely, or anything, I’m here for you. Remember the lesson that we learned from Fluttershy and Rarity - you can always be honest about your feelings with your friends.”

Scroll looked away. “I don’t really know how I feel...”

“How’s that?”

“I just... since our mission started, all these things’ve happened. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to just explode or break down and cry.” He started to shake a little. “All, all these feelings about the mission and the war and the ponies here and, and, and if I can really help, if I if I can be a good role model for Clip, and I still don’t know about Tap, and you... and, and...”

“There, there...” White said, putting a foreleg around him. “It’s okay. Just calm down, look at the sea, and take a few deep breaths.”

“Times like this I wish I had an inhaler...”

“You don’t have asthma,” White reminded him. “Now, what’s this about Tap?”

“Well, y’know about our first night here, and we got drunk, and I...”

“Yeah...” White said with a pause. “You felt pretty bad about it.”

“Yeah...” said Scroll. “But I don’t know... I still have feelings for her, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Well... why not just tell her?”

Scroll shot up. “Tell her? But, but...”

“Hey, think of it this way,” White said. “Worse things have happened to us than getting rejected by a pretty girl. If you just go up to her and tell her what you feel, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I... I dunno...”

“I’m not gonna push you to this or anything,” White said, “but I think you’ll feel better if you come forward about it. Besides, I think she likes you.”

Scroll looked at him. “Really?”

“Hey, she knows you and she hasn’t called you any names. I mean, she liked you enough to, well, uh...” White didn’t want to finish that sentence. “She told me she thinks that you’re cute.”

“Well...” Scroll closed his eyes. “Okay, I’ll do it. I, I’ll go right up to her tavern and tell her that I, that I, uh...”

“Don’t worry about it. Just take your time and think of exactly what you want to say. I’ll help you if you want it.”

“Okay...” said Scroll, nodding his head. “That’d be a big help.” He leaned over and rested his head on White’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

“Oh yeah,” remembered White. “And you’re a great cook, too.”

___________

Clip puzzled over the book he was reading. Red and blue make... he blinked. That couldn’t be right: it was pronounced pur-puhl, not pur-pluh. Of course, the book had other mistakes. Brother Scroll had crossed some things out: The three primary colors pigments are yellow, blue, and red... The words that replaced blue and red he couldn’t figure out. Scroll hadn’t re-colored the drawing, so he didn’t really understand the difference; why were there different words with complicated spellings for the same colors?

He sighed, looking up. Reading was hard enough when the book didn’t need corrections. More than that, he was just bored. He had his one cookie quite a while ago, and there wasn’t a whole lot for him to do.

He looked at the door. He wasn’t locked in or anything, and the missionaries wouldn’t be back from their date until the end of the day. That left him a lot of time - he could do any number of things and they’d never need to know.

He closed his book and prepared to step outside. He didn’t have anything to worry about, he thought. After all, he could be a tough kid when he had to, even if he was pink. Not that he necessarily liked being tough, but he could do it.

When Clip stepped out the door, he turned to climb up the side of the building. He prided himself on that; whenever he saw a building, his eyes scanned it, looking for places he could climb up. He used to climb up on top of the buildings to escape from the mean dirt ponies who couldn’t follow him. The mission house was a particularly easy building to climb - all he had to do was go up a few empty crates and he was there. Even Brother White was able to do it once.

From the roof, he surveyed the surrounding town. There was one nice thing about the houses getting destroyed in the attacks: when they got rebuilt, it was all new, and that meant more to explore. He looked at the nearest building, which was a ramshackle house. He took a running leap and cleared the gap.

He was good at jumping. Sometimes he wondered if he had simply jumped off of the cloud in the first place, General Storm might’ve been impressed. Instead, that soldier had simply thrown him off... Then he realized that was a stupid idea. He liked being with the missionaries a lot better than the pegasi on the Stormcloud, anyway. The missionaries were nice.

He walked along the rooftops, looking down at the ponies below. Most of them were pretty mean. Good for him that they couldn’t reach him on the rooftops. Indeed, they weren’t even very inclined to look up.

“Hey! Fatass!” called a voice. Clip walked over to the edge of the roof and looked down. He saw Brother Barrel (who wasn’t actually a missionary but they called him that to show they welcomed him) at an apple stand. A distance away he saw a brown colt who was hassling him. “I’m talking to you!”

“Shove off, Buzz,” said Barrel, doing his best to ignore him and continue doing business with the mare at the apple stand.

“Hey, fatass, how much your sister charge?” Buzz resumed. “How much for her to suck my dick? How about to fuck her in the ass?”

Clip saw that Barrel was looking at the produce with an unusual intensity. Buzz picked up a rock and threw it at Barrel. “Too bad she’s your sister!” he jeered. “That means you can’t fuck her, but that’s okay, because you spend so much time with those faggots that you’re probably gay!”

The rock hit Barrel right in the head. “Agh! Fuck off, you little shit!” he shouted back. Buzz ran off, snickering to himself, while Barrel stood there. Clip didn’t like that; Buzz shouldn’t have used that kind of language. Though he could see that Barrel felt bad about that, as the earth pony had lowered his head. Well, he might’ve felt bad about that; he also might’ve just felt bad about Buzz being mean to him.

In any case, Clip didn’t think that Barrel was gay. He wouldn’t have a problem with that, but he doubted it. Besides, he didn’t really want Barrel to be one of his daddies.

___________

White was considering playing the “what does this cloud look like?” game, but then he realized that there weren’t any clouds.

Both of the missionaries were lying on their backs, looking up on the sky. “Say...” White sat up. “We’ve got an ocean in front of us.”

“Huh?” Scroll asked, looking at him. White turned his head, beaming at his partner.

“Whaddya say we go swimming?”

Scroll sat up with a jolt. “Sw-swimming?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh, I dunno...” Scroll fidgeted with his glasses. “I mean, I’m not a good swimming,” he flubbed.

“Well, there’s always a good time to learn,” said White. “I’ll help you.”

Scroll looked from White’s smiling face to the ocean, and then back to White’s face. “Well...” he took a deep breath. “Okay.” He took his glasses off and placed them on the mat.

White stood up. “C’mon,” he said as he started a brisk walk over to the edge of the water. Scroll slowly got up and followed, but he went much more slowly, being  a lot more timid than his partner.

When Scroll got to the water’s edge, he placed a hoof into the oncoming wave. It was a little colder than he expected; not frigid, but not exactly warm. He looked over at White, who was further out into the water with his hooves submerged. Scroll followed White out to where he was standing.

“Okay, this isn’t quite so bad...” Scroll muttered, as he felt the receding waves pull the sand out from underneath his hooves.

“Alright,” said White as he approached. “You ready to go further?” He lifted his hoof and put it on Scroll’s shoulder.

“I... I think so,” said Scroll.

“Well, let’s go,” said White, slowly leading him further into the water. “We can do it either fast or slow. If you just jump in, you’ll get over it faster, but it can be easier to go slow.”

“I’ll go, slow, I-” a wave came and lifted the two mission brothers up, soaking both of them up to their necks. “Alright...” Scroll shivered. “Fast, then.”

“Hold onto me,” White said, extending his hoof. Scroll cautiously grabbed a hold as they waded further out into the water. “It’s easy. Just keep kicking your hooves and you’ll be fine.”

They went a little further out. They were no longer able to touch the sand on the bottom, but they were able to stay afloat. Poor Scroll was clinging to White, flailing his hind legs. “It’s okay, you’re doing fine...” White reassured him.

“No,” said Scroll as a panicked expression crossed his face, “I think I’m having trouble...”

“Aw, you’re getting the hang of it.”

“No, really!” squeaked Scroll. “Something’s pulling me under!” He flung his forelegs around White. “Help me!”

White grabbed him, still kicking with his hind legs, but he noticed that Scroll was right. It was like the ocean was dragging them down. “Scroll! Hold on!” he shouted, trying desperately to hold Scroll above the surface. “Hold o-!”

___________

Barrel had agreed to stop by the mission house around the middle of the day. Brothers White and Scroll were off doing something else, and they’d asked him to drop by and make sure Clip was doing okay. Not difficult at all. He’d walk in, see Clip doing something, then walk out and head right back to the tavern.

He trotted up to the graffiti-ridden door and threw it open. “‘Ello?” he called. “Clip? It’s Brother Barrel...” He found himself wishing he hadn’t lost his nametag. “Y’know, that other guy?”

Clip, however, was nowhere to be seen. “Hello?” Barrel called again. He spotted the bum in the corner of the room. “‘Ey, you!”

“Muh?”

“Yeah, you seen a little pink winger? Uh... without wings?”

“Saw pink elephants...”

“Uhhhhh oh...” Barrel rushed into the nearby rooms. “Clip?” He checked the boxes in the storage shed. “Clip?” He checked all the cabinets in the kitchen. “Clip?!” He checked the pillow on the top bunk. When he failed to find Clip, he sat there, feeling pretty stupid. Of course, eventually he had to stop feeling stupid and realize he needed to find the little guy before the missionaries got back. This realization made him get up quickly - or as quickly as he could, given that he was somewhat fat - and bolt out of the mission house.

___________

Of course, Barrel was not likely to find Clip. He didn’t have cause to panic, though; Clip was still merrily trotting along the rooftops of Earthquake Island, much to the confusion of the occupants of said buildings.

He took another running jump across a gap. He landed on the edge of another building, but this time, the tiles were loose. He slid right off of the roof, flailing and trying to grab at the wall. He managed to catch a grip at the windowsill as the tiles fell to the ground below, with a sharp clang!

“Ow!” shouted a voice below. Clip looked down and saw one very angry-looking dirt glaring up at him. “Watch it, you little snot!”

This was the sort of thing Clip wanted to avoid. He kicked his legs, trying to get back up to the roof, but his position did not afford him very firm footing. He was barely holding onto the edge of the windowsill, peering into a musty room. In it was a large bed and a nightstand with what appeared to be one of the Fraternity’s books...

The door opened, and a mare walked in. Clip recognized her: it was Brother Barrel’s sister, the one that Scroll looked at a lot. She was pretty.

She looked around the room before she spotted him and jumped back in surprise. “What the f...” she mouthed. She walked over to the window before slowly opening it. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothin’...” said Clip. “Just hanging.”

Tap sighed and leaned forward. She picked up Clip by the back of his neck and lifted him off of the windowsill, before setting him down on the floor. “Now, just what were you doing there?”

“I slipped...” Clip said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh-huh...” said Tap, who really wasn’t sure what to make of that. She also wasn’t really sure whether she cared. “Well, that reminds me why I like two-story buildings and blinds,” she said as she shut the window and drew the curtains. “What are you doing out? Shouldn’t you be with the missionaries?”

“They went on a picnic,” said Clip.

“Really,” Tap said.

“Don’t tell them that I wasn’t at the mission house...” Clip said in a quiet, guilty voice.

“Ahh,” said Tap. “So they aren’t being dumber than usual.”

“They are not dumb!” said Clip with an emphatic stomp of his little hoof.

Tap had to laugh at that. “Alright, if you say so,” she said. She looked at the door. “Are you hungry?”

“Kinda... I only had one cookie.”

“Well, come on downstairs,” she said with a smile. “I’ll give you a lunch. On the house.”

“Really?” asked Clip.

“Sure,” said Tap. “Just... wait a few minutes before coming downstairs,” she added as she opened the door. “I... really don’t want to have to explain what I was doing in my room with a little colt.”

___________

Barrel tore down the street, stopping pretty much every pony he met. “Excuse me, sir/madam, have you seen a little pink colt?” he asked. This failed to get a “yes” from anypony.

He ran through the town, looking in all the windows (which nearly led to some embarrassing confrontations), garbage buckets, outhouses, and various boxes. This, too, failed to find the colt. As he grew increasingly worried, he sat down and tried to think.

Okay, Barrel, he began, if I were Clip, where would I be? He shot back up to a standing position. With the missionaries!

With a massive wave of relief sweeping over him, he rushed off for the beach... That is where they said they were going, right? Yeah, I think that’s right.

Of course, they didn’t tell him where on the beach they were planning to go, given that they’d adopted a “let’s-find-a-nice-place-and-sit-here” approach. It had worked for them just fine, but it didn’t give Barrel a whole lot to go on. There was little he could do but wander aimlessly along the beach, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of Scroll and White.

Unfortunately, he was quickly distracted by the extraordinarily silly sight of two seagulls fighting over a sandwich. He stopped walking and just watched them with an amused grin crawling over his face. It took him a few minutes for it to occur to him that the sandwich had to have come from somewhere. This jolted him back to the realization that he was supposed to be looking for Clip, so he continued down the beach. Fortunately for him, the big red-checkered picnic cloth was very conspicuous on the sand, but the missionaries were nowhere to be seen.

He cautiously approached, as he wasn’t used to picnic setups. He looked around. “‘Ello?” he called. “Brother White? Brother Scroll? Where are ya?”

He looked down at the spread. There was a basket, a plate with crumbs, a teapot, cups, and a pair of glasses. He lifted the lid off of the teapot and looked inside. Clip wasn’t in there. He checked the basket, too.

He looked back at the glasses and puzzled over them. Why on Earthquake Island would Scroll leave his glasses on the ground? He was always wearing them, after all.

He sat there, puzzling over the whole thing. In retrospect, it seemed pretty dumb for him to think that Clip would run off to be with the missionaries. After all, wasn’t the entire point of their outing to be alone? And in that case, if he had run into them again, he would’ve messed it up for them, and then he’d have to explain that he couldn’t find Clip...

“Hmm...” thought Barrel as a bird landed on his head.

___________

Clip climbed up onto the stool and peered over the counter.

“Well, there you are,” said Tap. She placed a plate in front of him with a sandwich on it. “I was wondering if you’d run off.”

“I didn’t really know how much ‘minutes’ was...” said Clip.

Tap laughed a little. “Well, that’s alright. I don’t think we’ve ever really been introduced. I’m Tap.”

“They call me Clip,” said the colt as he cautiously poked the sandwich.

“It’s not gonna bite, kid.”

Clip picked it up and took a bite out of it. “Sorrih. Fometimes the uhver foals’d put san’ innem.”

“Well...” said Tap. “A lot of the foals in this town are real shits, aren’t they?”

Clip cringed. “Scroll and White don’t like to use those words.”

“I gathered...” said Tap. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Clip. “You’re still a lot nicer than a lot of the other dirts in town.”

Tap raised an eyebrow. “I thought the missionaries didn’t like those words, either.”

“Oh... sorry.”

“It’s alright,” said Tap. She moved back, filling a few glasses with watered-down booze and serving the other customers. As she moved along the counter, she got a better look at the scars on Clip’s back. She shuddered - that happened to a kid? Fuck! “So, you’re from the... the Stormcloud, right? What’s it like there?”

“Well...” Clip squirmed a bit in his seat. “They’ve all got ranks and a chain of command. I remember some of the other foals had higher ranks than me and they pushed me around. Well... actually, all of them had higher ranks than me, I think.” He paused, thinking. “Just like here. Except the general here is kinda different. Storm was more sneer-y.”

“Oh, that fucking bitch...” groaned Tap. “So... what happened to you? Why are you here?”

“They threw me off,” said Clip.

“Oh...” Tap said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Clip shrugged. “It’s better now. I’m with the missionaries, and they’re gonna take me to Equestria and they’ll get married and adopt me.”

Tap laughed. “I’m sure they will.” She smiled fondly. “They’re nice to you, aren’t they?”

“Uh-huh!” Clip said eagerly. “They read to me and play with me and give me ice cream! Though they don’t give me that much ice cream. They say it’s bad for me and I need to share it with the other ponies but the other ponies never take any...”

The door flew open. Barrel lurched inside, heaving. “I can’t do it...” he wheezed as he pulled himself to the counter. “I looked everywhere for him, but he just vanished...”

“Who, Barrel?” asked Tap.

“Clip,” said Barrel. “I looked all over town, all over the mission house, I even looked for the Brothers... but I just couldn’t find him.” He groaned. “Why can’t I do anything right?”

“Hi!” piped up Clip.

“Hi, Clip...” Barrel moaned. “They’re gonna think I’m an idiot...”

Normally, Tap might’ve laughed, but she saw something unsettling: there was a bruise on Barrel’s forehead. “Barrel, what’s that?”

“Huh?” asked Barrel. “What’s what?”

“That,” Tap touched the bruise. Barrel jerked away. “Barrel, what happened?”

“Nothing!” Barrel blurted.

“Buzz threw a rock at him,” Clip said.

“WHAT?!” Tap shouted. “Somepony threw a rock at your head?”

“It’s nothin’...” said a rather fidgety Barrel.

“Barrel, somepony throwing a rock at you isn’t nothing.”

“He’s just some stupid kid, Tap,” said Barrel. “I mean, he can’t do anything. He’s just a little asshole.”

“That’s a bad word!” exclaimed Clip.

___________

An earth pony stared at a giant, hulking machine. He was supposed to make sure the damn thing worked, but he didn’t know how it worked.

It was a big hulking thing, clanking to itself as the noise echoed through the cavern. At one end of the machine a torrent of water poured, while at the other end a huge pipe led deeper into the cavern.

The water emptied into a large basin that then emptied into several other streams that led down different parts of the cavern. They would emerge out of the mountain and fall into the lakes in the forest.

The machine’s function was simple: it took water from the ocean and somehow turned it into fresh water. It was a piece of stolen unicorn technology, and as such, the earth ponies didn’t understand how it worked. Or rather, how it wasn’t working. That clanking noise wasn’t there at first, but it grew. Sometimes the machine had trouble turning on, or it started shaking so violently it had to be shut off. Every time they flipped the switch, they were worried that it be down for good, leaving them without a water source.

One of his pals was watching the “in” pipe. There was a little window in it, which they watched to make sure that if anything came in they didn’t want, they could fish it out. It was somewhat puzzling that the machine got rid of the salt, but if a fish or a piece of seaweed got in it was a humongous pain in the ass.

Fucking horners, he thought. Even when we steal from them they’re a bitch.

However, he saw something that he did not expect.

“Uhh...”

“What?” asked the earth pony at the panel (the buttons of which he dared not push).

“I just saw...”

The machine clanged some more, before it suddenly shut down. The two ponies looked at it. Shit. Then the machine gave a sickening lurching sound, and then a blast of water exploded out the end.

The two ponies looked on in shock as two soaking ponies hit the wall of the cavern and slid down to the ground.

“Well, what the fuck...” said one of the ponies.

“I...” Scroll gasped, “need... a... hug...”

---

Chapter 16

The technicians watched as the two missionaries slobbered away over their salt licks. The trip through the machine had left them in need of nutrition.

“So, uh,” said one of the technicians, “why’s there a horner? And why aren’t we turning them both into the general?”

“Quake’s cool with us!” White shouted.

“Well, he tolerates us...” added Scroll.

“I think he’s one of them missionaries,” said the second technician.

“Missionaries?”

“That’s right!” called Brother White. He stood up. “My name is Brother White, and I...” He took another lick, “...Am with the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia! This is my friend, Brother Scroll.”

“Hi,” said Brother Scroll.

“But...” said the first technician, “he’s a horner.”

“What’s that?” asked White, looking at the machine.

“This?” said the second technician. “It’s our water thing.”

Scroll stopped licking, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Thing?”

“Why doesn’t horner over there tell us?”

“Y’know, you’ve said that three times,” sighed White. “I just told you my name.”

The first technician silently examined White; soaking wet and slobbering over a salt lick, but still asking to be respected. The technician snorted.

“Fag...” he muttered.

“So, uh,” said Scroll, looking over at the machine. “This is where your water comes from?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” said the second technician. “Also makes salt blocks. Damn thing only works when it likes, though.”

“And it’s made by unicorns?” asked Scroll. He shoved the salt lick in his mouth, stood up, and walked over to the machine. “Hhh,” he said, spitting the block out again. “Never seen anything like this. It, uh, it takes ocean water and makes it drinkable?”

“When it works,” grunted the technician. “And then when it doesn’t, I kick it. That doesn’t usually help.”

“You have any idea what’s wrong with it?”

“Nope.”

“Huh...” Scroll licked at his block. “Well, I don’t know about this, this exact thing, but these things are usually either a mechanical failure or a magical failure.”

“Magical failure?”

“Yeah.” Scroll nodded. “Y’see, these machines all run off of unicorn magic. They get built, and a unicorn puts an enchantment on it that makes it do its thing. Like a refrigerator - you build an insulated box, and then the unicorn puts a spell on it that makes it cold.”

“Okay, so...” the technician looked around. “What do we do?”

“Well, you could find a unicorn who can fix it,” shrugged Scroll.

“What about him?” asked the first technician, shoving White forward. “We got a horner.”

White stumbled a little. “Four times...” he muttered.

“Doesn’t work that way,” said Scroll. “You need a unicorn who knows a ‘turn-salt-water-into- fresh-water’ spell. And Brother White,” he emphasized, “only knows tooth spells and stuff like that. If it’s a mechanical failure you just have to open it up and see if anything’s broken.”

“We’ve tried that,” said the second technician. “Nothing works.”

“Well, then you need a unicorn who can fix it,” Scroll said.

“Well, if this faggot can’t fix it, what’s the point of him being around?” the first technician sneered.

White took a lick from the salt block. “I can tell I’m not wanted here,” he said, turning to leave. “I’ll leave Brother Scroll to help you with your machine. He’s smarter, anyway...”

“Wait up!” Scroll called, running after him. “If my friend isn’t welcome, I’m not welcome.”

“Figures they both are,” muttered the technician. “They both came out of the pipe together. Figures they both, uh, take it up the pipe together.”

His partner turned to him. “Will you just shut up sometime so you don’t sound like a fucking idiot?”

___________

White closed his eyes, letting the water from the showerhead wash over him.

“White, could you pass over the soap?”

“Oh, sure.”

White took the soap from the holder and floated it over to Scroll, who sat down and took it in his hooves. White, meanwhile, squirted some shampoo into his mane.

“Okay, so, doors again today,” said White. “I think we should plan our approach in advance a little.”

“Umm,” Scroll thought as he lathered himself up. “Yeah, okay.”

“Let’s practice. I’ll pretend that I’m knocking on your door, and you pretend to be the occupant. Ahem...” White cleared his throat.

“But I dunno...”

“Oh, it’s easy,” said White. “You just gotta get in character. Just imagine yourself: you’re an earth pony here on Earthquake Island. You’re doing something, and then there’s a knock on your door.”

“Okay,” said Scroll, “so I open the door...”

“Hello,” said the unicorn, “my name is Brother White.” Scroll stood there for a few seconds, thinking.

“Uhhh, fuck you?” They stared at each other for a few more seconds as the running water fell around them. “Sorry, I was just trying to imagine myself as, um...”

“Yeah, let’s just, uh, talk about our apprbb,” White stuck his head into the running water, letting it rinse through his mane. Scroll tried to stand up, which got a little difficult due to the tight space. White had to move to the side to accommodate his partner.

“Well, so far,” said Scroll, standing in the stream of water, “we’ve tried knocking, reading selections, asking them nicely, bringing pie...”

“And none of that has worked.”

“How about we try leaflets?” suggested Scroll. “That way we don’t even need to knock. Just get a bunch of fliers and put them on doorsteps.”

“That could work.” White nodded. “You pass me the soap?”

“Uhh...” said Scroll.

“What?”

“I kinda dropped it.”

“You-” White took a step and his hoof went right onto the bar. His leg slipped out from under him. “Woah!” he yelled as he stumbled, falling right into Scroll. Scroll, in turn, fell down under him.

“We’re gonna drown!” squealed Scroll. Then, as if on cue, the water shut off. “Oh. I guess not.”

White carefully got up, making sure to replace the offending bar of soap into its holder. “Alright, now for breakfast...”

The two Brothers exited the cramped shower stall, taking their towels and drying off.

“But that worked,” said White as he lifted his brush. “We both shower together, we both get clean before they shut it off.”

“And we don’t use as much water,” Scroll said, cleaning his glasses. “So, I think today is toast day.”

“Sounds good,” nodded White. He dragged the brush through his mane, making sure it was neat, straight, and clean. Even if the rest of the town was unconcerned with hygiene, that was no reason that Brother White couldn’t be proper and presentable.

“You’re an asshole, Quake.”

The two Brothers stopped and listened. They didn’t recognize that voice.

“Funny, you never said that to me when you were here, you little pussy,” said a voice that they did recognize. Scroll adjusted his glasses before the two of them slowly walked out of the bathroom and peaked into the main room of the mission house. General Quake was there, accompanied by his two lieutenants. However, there was somepony else there as well: a white unicorn with a blond mane and a gold star for a cutie mark. The two ponies were glaring at each other with similar expressions of distaste. Quake’s eyes flicked in the direction of the missionaries. “Figures,” he muttered, “with how long you were in there.”

“Hi...” said White. “Are you here for the free breakfast?”

The other unicorn turned and saw them. “He’s here,” he said, before stepping away and apparently vanishing.

“Huh?” asked White.

What the missionaries saw next made them both jump back in fright.

Where the other unicorn had been standing, another unicorn appeared. It was a very tall stallion, his coat a deep shade of purple. On his flank there was the image of a golden crown.

“General Monarch,” said Brother White.

“Ah,” said the unicorn general, facing him. “Brother White, if I remember correctly?” The general had a deep voice, and he liked to draw out every word he said, as though he were savoring the syllables.

“Yes,” said White. His tone was not quite as high as it usually was, and he didn’t carry that beaming smile like he usually did. He’d met general before, in his first week on the island, during the sneak attack before the pegasus raid.

“Aaaaaaand General Quake,” said the unicorn, turning to the scowling earth pony general.

“Fuck, I hate the way you talk,” Quake growled.

“Wait,” said White, “not that I’m complaining, but... you aren’t shooting each other?”

“Oh, they aren’t going to waste bullets,” said Monarch, his voice full of smug self-satisfaction. “Even they aren’t dumb enough to attack a hologram.” He nodded below him, where there was small glowing device on the floor. Scroll hadn’t pointed it out because he had been staring.

“That horn...” he said.

“Wait until you see what I can do with it,” Monarch smirked. Scroll stammered a bit and his face turned red.

“What’s the deal here?” asked White.

“I just remembered our last meeting,” said Monarch, “and wondered what that white unicorn was up to.”

“You burned my friend’s house down,” White said in the bluntest tone of voice he could muster.

“Well, that’s water under the castle.” Monarch shrugged. “But in any case, I wanted to talk with you, White.”

“Free breakfast, right?” asked Quake.

“You want to talk to me?” asked White. “Why?”

“I asked if there was breakfast.” Quake snorted.

“Yeah,” said Scroll. “It’s toast day...”

“I was just thinking of you is all,” said Monarch.

“You got anything other than toast?”

“You see,” Monarch said, “Brother Shine here told me about how difficult it was for him, being a unicorn in a town full of dirts.”

“I think I get along okay,” said White.

“Oh, sure, plenty of stuff. We can make eggs or pancakes or hash browns or doughnuts...”

“Oh really?” asked Monarch. “I doubt our good friend Quake really appreciates you.”

“Shut up, I want my fucking pancakes.”

“What’s your point, exactly?” asked White.

“I like you, White,” said Monarch. “I think you’re a bright, handsome young stallion, so I’d like to make you an offer.”

“An offer?” White raised an eyebrow. “What kind of an offer?”

“What kind of pancakes? We could make buttermilk pancakes, apple pancakes, even potato pancakes...”

“I’d like you to come up to the fortress,” said Monarch. “I think you’d get along much better with our locals than with theirs. I assure you, we are much more civilized than our good friend General Quake here.”

“Shut up,” said Quake. “Sure, just get me something.”

“Alrighty,” said Scroll, exiting into the kitchen.

White, however, was not won over by Monarch’s suggestion. “I’m sorry, sir, but my mission is here on Earthquake Island.”

“And how is that mission going?” asked the general.

“It’s going fine,” White said through his teeth.

“Oh really?” asked Monarch, raising an eyebrow.

“How long do the fucking pancakes take?” Quake called.

“Gimme ten minutes!” Scroll answered from the kitchen.

White looked from one general to the next. “Why’re you here, Quake?”

“Wanted to make sure king horner wasn’t up to anything funny,” said Quake. “I also wanted breakfast.”

“Well, happy to oblige,” said White. “That’s you,” he indicated to Quake, “not you,” he pointed to Monarch.

“Well, I’ll leave you to think it over,” said Monarch, turning to leave.

“Wait!” said White. “I do have something I want to talk about. Both of you.”

The generals looked at him with looks of condescending confusion.

“Listen, why do you two fight each other? I mean, you’re here, talking, and you aren’t killing each other.”

“And hating every second of it,” muttered Quake.

“Well, maybe if the dirts here didn’t steal from us.”

“Oh, that’s really fucking rich,” snarled Quake. “What about all those hostages you’ve been taking?”

“Oh, that’s right!” said Monarch. “I’d almost forgotten!” He turned his head. “Are we willing to discuss hostages?” he called behind him. White, Quake, and the lieutenants looked in the same direction, but didn’t find whoever it was that Monarch was speaking to. He returned his attention to General Quake. “Alright, then, about those hostages. We’ll be willing to give, hmm, some of them back.”

“Wait, what?” asked White.

“Afraid we aren’t quite willing to part with all of them, but there are a few we don’t have any real use for. We could give them back, if,” Monarch continued, “you return the water machine and the cannon engine. What do you say?”

“Alright!” said Scroll, emerging from the kitchen with a tray on his back. “Turned out we actually had some leftover batter from yesterday!”

Quake glared at Monarch as Scroll served him his breakfast, which consisted of four pancakes slathered in butter and syrup, with a glass of orange juice. “Hey, I know,” said Quake. “How about if I eat my breakfast, shit it out, and then you can come down here for real and I can take your horn and shove it up your ass?”

“That was extraordinarily homoerotic...” said Scroll.

Monarch casually glanced behind him. “He says ‘no.’”

“Wait, what just happened?” White asked.

Monarch returned his gaze to the front again. “All dead. Very glad that’s cleared up. Thank you, Quake.”

“Did I do something wrong again?” Scroll asked, fidgeting with his glasses.

“You...” whispered White, “you murdered them.”

“No, that would be the executioner,” corrected Monarch. “In any case, I hope you’ll give my proposal a little consideration.”

“I already told you, no,” said White. “I’m not leaving here. I’m not going to abandon my mission, and I’m not going to take Scroll along to someplace that I just know is going to be as horribly racist to him as this place is to me.”

“What, who?” Monarch asked. He looked around the room until his eye fell on Scroll. “This little dirt?”

“Yeah,” Scroll said. “Racism.”

“That ‘dirt’ is my friend!” snapped White. “He’s also a good cook.”

“Well, I don’t think he’d be coming along.”

“Then I won’t,” said White. “Now, I have a proposal.”

“You?” asked Monarch. “You mean to make suggestions to me?”

“Yes,” said White. “Yes I do. I say you two stop fighting and end the war. Now.”

Monarch and Quake stared at him as though he were an idiot.

“Listen,” said Scroll as he straightened his glasses, “we have a water shortage here. Right?”

“Yes, from all your showering together,” said Quake.

“Well, listen, that machine you got that provides the water,” continued Scroll. “It’s unicorn tech.”

“Stolen,” interjected Monarch.

“Here we fucking go again,” muttered Quake.

“Listen!” cried Scroll, desperate to keep the conversation on the track he wanted.  “We shouldn’t need to kill or steal! If you just stopped fighting and worked together, you could fix the machine and have all the water you’d want! And the forest here is huge! We could feed both populations!”

“Don’t you two get it?” White added. He rushed to the desk and grabbed one of the books. “If you’d just listen you could see how wonderful your lives can be! We can all live together, in peace and happiness and prosperity! We can save you!”

The two generals stared at them.

“Save us?” Monarch asked. “I hardly think I care.”

“What, you’re fine with just... just going on killing each other?” White asked.

“It’s served me well,” said Monarch.

“Are we done here?” asked Quake. “I need to go beat something up. Or have sex with something that isn’t a stallion.”

“Think over my proposal, Brother White. If you so wisely decide to take up my offer, the hologram device here will serve as a one-time, one-way teleporter.” He looked over at Quake. “Oh, and don’t get any ideas, Quake, you’re not intelligent enough to do anything to me with it.”

Quake snorted in irritation.

“That is all,” concluded General Monarch. He turned to walk away, but he stopped. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea... water shortage?” A sinister grin crossed his face. “I think I can do something about that.” He took a step and vanished. The dull humming from the machine on the floor ceased, and the lights went out.

General Quake, having finished his breakfast, grunted, got up, and turned to leave.

“I wish he’d said ‘thank you...’” said Scroll sadly.

___________

Scroll stood at the mirror, scrubbing at his eye.

“Rotten fruit,” said White. “Stings the eye and the soul...”

White stood behind him, running a brush through Scroll’s mane.

“I’m so nervous,” said Scroll.

“Oh, don’t be,” said White. “It can’t possibly go worse than our door-knocking today. At least with Tap the worst you’ll get is a ‘no’ and maybe a wisecrack.”

“The hotfoot was the worst...”

“Anyway, remember what you’re going to do?” asked White.

“I... I think so,” Scroll nodded. “I walk up to her, I smile, and I ask her if she’d like to go out with me.”

“That’s right,” White turned Scroll around to face him. “Don’t worry, Scroll. You’re gonna do great. She likes you.”

“I-I know, it’s just, well, I’ve never really asked a girl out before.”

“Well, first time for everything, right?” White smiled. “Now get out there and show her what a charming young stallion you are!”

Scroll put on his glasses, and, with his mane straight and his face washed, marched out the door of the mission house. The air was still and cold, and the streets were illuminated with light from the windows and stars.

Scroll walked up to the door of the inn. He was ready - his mane was combed, his posture straight, and he had his tie on like a proper gentlecolt. He hesitated, though. His legs were locked as his nerves wracked him, leaving him unable to do much else other than breathe.

Come on, Scroll, he thought. Worse things have happened to you than this... But then why am I so nervous?

“You gonna go in or not?” asked a voice behind him.

“Wha?” Scroll jumped. “Oh, oh, s-sorry!” he stammered, heading through the door. Well, that first obstacle was out of the way. Now there were only about a dozen or so left.

The tavern was full of drinking and drunken stallions as usual, and roaring voices filled the room. Tap and Barrel were at the counter.

“Barrel, could you go downstairs and see if we have more whiskey?” asked Tap.

“Okay.” Barrel nodded before turning to head for the cellar.

Before Scroll could make his move, however, he saw a young colt walk up to her - Buzz. The colt walked up to one of the stools and climbed onto it, peering over the counter.

“Hey,” he said. Tap, however, did not appear interested. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

Tap turned to look at him. “Huh? What do you want?”

The colt hauled a small sack of money onto the counter.

“Really?” asked Tap. “Aren’t you a little young for booze?”

“I don’t want booze,” Buzz sneered. “I want to fuck you.”

Tap’s expression dropped. “Yeah, no,” she said, pouring another glass of a drink. “Come back when your balls drop.” She left the counter, carrying a tray of drinks and a sandwich over to a table where two stallions were engaged in a hoof-wrestle.

Buzz sat there with a fuming expression on his face, staring at Tap as she left to do her job. “Hey!” he shouted. “I’m not done here!”

“Yes,” said Tap, “you are. Get out.”

“You’re a fucking whore!” Buzz snapped. “You don’t get a choice!”

Tap stopped for a minute. Then she turned around and slowly walked up to Buzz, who was wearing an irritating grin. Tap stood in front of him for a few seconds and thrust out her hoof, roughly pinning him to the counter. “Usually, yeah, I don’t,” she said as the colt gasped. “But sometimes I do. Right now I’m telling you to fuck off. Got that?”

Buzz stared at her, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“Oh,” she leaned on him a little more, “and if you ever throw rocks at my brother again, I’ll make sure you regret it.” She lowered her face to his. “Just because you’re a little kid doesn’t mean I have to be nice to you. You got it?”

Buzz frantically nodded his head.

“Good. Now get out.” Tap released him, and he bolted out the door, forgetting to take the money. She laughed and took the bag, before returning to her position behind the counter.

“Got it!” called Barrel from the door.

“Great,” said Tap.

Scroll gulped. This would make things harder. He just wanted to talk to Tap, but he couldn’t do it with all these shouting bar patrons and her brother. He needed to think of something...

There was a group of stallions over at a table, playing cards. Idea.

“Um, excuse me?” he said, tapping one of the inactive card players on the shoulder.

“Huh?” asked the stallion. “Whaddya lookin’ at?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Scroll stammered. “I just, uh, wanted to ask you a favor...”

Tap and Barrel, meanwhile, went about their business - serving drinks, food, and dodging said drinks and food whenever they went flying. Tap’s other bit of business started that evening when one of the card players approached her.

“Hey,” said the stallion, seemingly bored out of his skull.

“Yes?” Tap asked.

“Uh, you meet me upstairs in, uh,” the stallion paused as though he had trouble thinking what he was supposed to say, “ten minutes?”

Tap looked around, and saw that Barrel was presenting a bottle of gin to a patron who was on the other side of the bar.

“Ten minutes?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You think so?” Tap asked. The card-player simply shrugged and turned to go back to his table. “Huh,” she said. Odd. I’d expect him to act more interested. However, she decided, didn’t really matter as long as he had money. She ducked down to sort through some glasses. Scroll, seeing the opportunity, bolted up the stairs.

Okay, so far, so good, he thought, slowing down at the top. Heh. You’re good. You’ll be all alone, you won’t have to worry about all the loudness, or making yourself look like an idiot in front of everypony, just... He opened the door to Tap’s room.

He didn’t expect it to be the same. After all, their house had been destroyed twice so far, but it was still arranged similarly: the bed, the nightstand, the closet, the windows - all arranged like it had been before, but it was a different bed, a different nightstand, and a different closet.

It was at this point that Scroll realized he’d done something phenomenally stupid.

___________

“Alright, Barrel, think you can handle it?” Tap asked.

“Huh?” asked her brother. “What for?”

“I’m going upstairs,” she said. “Taking a break. I’m going to, uh, read.”

“Oh, okay,” Barrel nodded.

Tap, relieved that she didn’t have to put up with Barrel’s protests, went upstairs. Admittedly, she wasn’t particularly looking forward to this. That stallion seemed bored out of his skull, and she almost suspected that he hadn’t bathed.

Well, she thought as she approached the door to her room, here goes- Scroll?!

The missionary was pacing back and forth, so occupied with his apparent worry that he hadn’t noticed her opening the door. She watched him for a while, before closing the door with an audible thud.

Scroll stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly, he turned to face her. “I, uh, well, y’see, I, uh, uh uh...” He gulped. “Sorry...” he squeaked.

Tap raised an eyebrow. One the one hoof, Scroll was probably the last guy she expected to do this. On the other, she found there was something profoundly predictable about his stammering and his nervous fidgeting.

“You, uh, you asked somepony else to ask me up here?”

Scroll looked down. “I was too embarrassed...”

“Aw, don’t be,” Tap laughed. “I have to admit,” she said as she walked up to him, “I didn’t see this coming. It’s a bit of a pleasant surprise, really.”

“Uhh, thanks...”

Tap laughed a little. “Awful bashful, aren’t ya?” she asked. “Well, I know how to solve that.”

“I- uh...” Scroll didn’t finish that sentence. Tap was standing very close to him, with her eyes narrowed and a sly smile on her face. Scroll opened his mouth, but his train of thought was stalled for words. Tap leaned forward and planted a kiss on his mouth. Now Scroll really couldn’t say anything, because his train of thought had crashed. His legs locked up and blood rushed to his face. When Tap broke away, Scroll’s mind was completely blank.

“You get that for free,” she said. She walked over to the bed, before giving him a sultry glance. “But the rest’ll cost you.”

Scroll’s mind snapped right back on track.

“How much did you bring?”

“Huh?”

“Well, you here for just a half-hour? Or you want an all-nighter?”

“What?” Scroll gaped. “No, I don’t want sex!”

The room fell silent save for the muffled shouting downstairs. Tap had been surprised before, now she was confused. If he wasn’t here for sex, she wondered, then what was he here for? And why did he want to be alone with her?

“I...” Scroll closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I have something I want to tell you. Something very important and personal.”

Fuck, thought Tap, he’s coming out of the closet.

“When I’m around you, I feel funny,” said Scroll. “I feel jittery, I don’t know what to say, and I feel kinda dumb. And I don’t usually feel dumb. I get this... this strange feeling in my stomach, and I get really nervous, and I mean more than usual.”

Tap sat there on the bed, staring at him and listening. “Y’know, that kinda sounds like you want sex.” Scroll stopped. “I’m just sayin’.”

“Well, it’s more than that...” Scroll rubbed the back of his neck. “Tap, you’re pretty. And I mean really pretty, and that night, when I got all drunk and you had me on the bed, I couldn’t believe it. I’d never even really been around girls all that much. They didn’t talk to me more than they needed, and here you were, and you were being nice to me and kissing me and... There were times when I didn’t know if that would ever happen to me. And then when you told me that it didn’t mean anything to you, well...”

Tap remembered that. “I wanted it to be special,” he’d said, the six most bizarre words she had heard in her life. Great, she thought as she sighed, he’s getting emotional.

She’d dealt with the type before, usually after a round of pity sex - the colt would lose his virginity and think that he had something “special” with her. They started to get clingy, bugging her and acting as though she owed them something. Sometimes she felt guilty about toying with feelings, but eventually they all turned into the exact same kind of asshole as everypony else. They weren’t sincere, she came to realize. Her clients were never sincere. Sometimes they were nervous or awkward, sometimes they were bashful, but it always amounted to the same thing: some colt had money lying around and they wanted the pretty little whore. Some clients were nicer than others. Some of them were gentlecoltly, even, but all that meant was that what she did was a little more pleasant some of the time.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way,” Scroll said after a pause. “I’ll just... I’ll just go now. I’m sorry.” Clenching his eyes shut, he headed for the door.

Tap was snapped out of her thoughts as she watched him go.

“Scroll, wait,” she said. Scroll stopped at the door and turned his head to look at her. “I don’t want you to run out bawling your eyes out. It doesn’t look good for either of us. C’mon and sit down.”

“Huh?”

“Come on,” she patted a spot on the bed next to her. “Let’s talk.”

Scroll hesitated before approaching her.

“Look, Scroll,” she said in a soft, gentle voice, an acquired skill of hers. Scroll slow sat down next to her. “I like you. You’re a nice guy and you bathe regularly. If I knew more stallions like you, I think my life would be a whole lot nicer.”

“Thanks...” said Scroll.

“I mean it. You’re a sweet guy, really, and you’re a very good friend,” Tap continued. “I just want you to know that. But really, the whole ‘lovesick’ thing is really, really silly.”

Scroll looked down despondently, not saying a word.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” She nuzzled him under the chin, pushing his head up.

“I’m sorry,” said Scroll.

“Don’t be,” said Tap. “But do you understand?”

“I think so...” said Scroll.

“Good, that’ll be a lot better for both of us,” said Tap. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” said Scroll as he got up. “Thanks.”

Tap watched as he walked to her bedroom door. Poor guy, she thought, I hope he takes it well.

“Good night, Scroll.”

“Good night, Tap.”

___________

White lay in bed, reading the Book of Friendship and refreshing himself on the lesson that Twilight Sparkle learned from Zecora. Clip, meanwhile, slept snugly above.

He heard the door open, and he looked up. Scroll had returned, but his head was a little lower than before.

“So, how’d it go?” White asked.

“Not very well,” Scroll sighed as he flopped down on the bunk. “I made a complete foal out of myself, and she doesn’t feel the same way about me as I do about her.”

“I’m sorry,” said White.

“Don’t be,” said Scroll. “At least I got my feelings out. That was the important part, right?”

“As long as you don’t regret what happened,” reasoned White.

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, I care about her a lot, and, and...” he stammered. “Do you think I still have a chance?”

“I don’t know,” said White. “But I don’t think she knows what she’s missing.”

“I think she does, remember?”

“Oh yeah...” White thought. “Well, Scroll, you know something?”

“What?”

“If I were her,” said White, smiling at him, “I would’ve fallen right into your hooves.”

“Thanks,” Scroll giggled.

“C’mon,” said White, “let’s get some sleep. We got a lot of doors to knock on tomorrow.”

---

Chapter 17

A profoundly listless and jaded-looking earth pony answered a knock on the door to find two young stallions standing at his doorstep.

“Hello,” said the unicorn. His earth pony companion nodded feebly. “What would you say if we told you the key to happiness was something as simple as companionship?”

“I’m not done with you yet, you bastard!” shrieked a voice from inside.

“I’d tell you that getting married is for saps.” The stallion shut the door.

“That...” White blinked. “That wasn’t exactly what we were getting at.”

“Can’t knock on the next two doors,” said Scroll, counting the houses on the street. “They have guns, and they don’t like us.”

“I think we’re running out of doors...” said White.

The two walked back to the wheelbarrow where Clip was seated next to the stacks of books.

“Maybe we’re being too ‘in-your-face’ about it,” White mused. “Maybe we shouldn’t so much ‘ask’ as ‘invite.’”

“What do you mean?” asked Scroll.

“Maybe just set up someplace public, like the market,” suggested White, “and let ponies come to us. Still visible, but less, well...”

“Gives them less of an excuse to wave a shotgun in our faces?”

“Exactly!”

“Can I knock on a door?” asked Clip. The Brothers looked at him, and then to each other.

“Umm...” said Scroll, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well...”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” mumbled White.

“Please?” begged Clip.

“Oh, alright,” said White, “you can do the next house.”

Clip grabbed a book in his mouth and hopped out of the wheelbarrow. He merrily trotted in front of the two Brothers up to the next house that they’d marked as “safe.”

The two Brothers watched, holding their breaths, as Clip walked up to the door. He raised a hoof and softly knocked. The door opened to reveal a mare. She looked around, taking a moment to realize that Clip wasn’t at her eye level.

“Oh, hello,” she said, looking down at the colt. Clip drew back a bit, looking at the missionaries as if asking for help. White leaned forward, smiling and nodding.

“Go on,” he mouthed.

Clip turned back to the mare. “Hi,” he said, sitting down and lifting the book up. “I have a book for you.”

“A...” she looked behind him. “You’re with that gay group?”

“Uh-huh!”

The mare sighed. “Okay, fine.” She bent down, took the book from the colt, and shut the door. Clip turned around and pranced back to the missionaries with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Wow,” said White, “great job.”

“Thanks!” Clip bounced up and down, his face full of glee.

“Hey, look!” called a jeering voice. “It’s the two-way gay!”

“Buzz...” the Brothers groaned in unison.

The brown colt watched them from the other side of the road. “Hey, horny!”

“Just ignore him...” said Scroll.

“Horny!”

Clip and the missionares resumed their walk down the road. Buzz, however, was not about to be deterred by their lack of reaction.

“Hey, horny, you’re gonna die, y’know that?” he asked. “I’m gonna kill you!”

“Go away!” shouted Clip.

“So I was saying,” White piped in a loud voice, “see if we can set up a booth in the market. Maybe a whole lot of ponies don’t stop by the mission house, but if we just seat ourselves...”

“Scroll!” Buzz shouted, desperate to get their attention. “Hey, Scroll! What’s it like to be a virgin?”

“I’m not a virgin...” mumbled Scroll.

“Taking it up the ass doesn’t count!” jeered Buzz.

“Yes it does!” protested Scroll.

“Excuse me,” said a gruff voice. The three turned to see a soldier impatiently tapping his hoof at them.

“Did we do something wrong again?” asked Scroll.

“You’re wanted back at the mission house,” said the soldier. “If you’ll follow me.”

“Wanted,” repeated White. “That’s a nice word to hear.”

“Hey, horner,” mocked Buzz as he followed them. “The soldiers are gonna kill you, y’know that? You’re fucking dead!”

“Did we do something wrong again?” Scroll asked.

“Something like that,” said the soldier. “I don’t think he’s gonna kill you, though.”

The missionaries exchanged nervous glances as the soldier led them back to the mission house, while Buzz followed them and continued to throw taunts. Clip stuck his tongue out at the bully.

“Maybe he got here after we left and wanted breakfast...” Scroll murmured as they approached the door.

The soldier pushed the doors open, and they walked into the main room of the mission house. Clip’s eyes went wide as he saw the inside, which was packed with boxes and crates. And there, standing in the middle of the room, was the general. As soon as he saw them, he started railing.

“I saw three ships come sailing in, with three pine trees, hundreds of boxes of food, clothes, and blankets, four dozen cakes, more toys than I can even begin to count, cookie cutters, and...” He walked over to a large, brightly-colored wheel, which was evenly divided into six sections: a lavender one with a magenta star, a white one with blue diamonds, an orange one with red apples, a yellow one with pink butterflies, a pink one with balloons, and a blue one with a rainbow-colored lightning bolt. “...This fucking thing.”

“Ooh!” said Brother Scroll. “A lesson wheel!”

“A what?” the general asked.

“Oh, man, I love these things!” said White. “You spin it, and then you have to answer a question based on the Element of Harmony it lands on!”

“You ever make your own question cards?” asked an excited Scroll.

“You bet I did!”

“FUCK, SHUT UP!”

The missionaries looked at the general, who was snorting. Clip, meanwhile, walked around the room, looking at the boxes.

“Now, you explain to me just what the fuck is going on?” asked the general.

“Oh!” said Scroll, “I think I know what it is!” He rushed over to the wall and checked the calendar. “The Fraternity sent them.”

“Is this what I think it is?” White asked.

“Yep!” Scroll said. “They sent it here for Hearth’s Warming Eve!”

General Quake stared at him. “What the fuck is that?”

“Well,” said Brother White, “it’s when we celebrate the founding of Equestria and the bonds of friendship that break the cold of winter.”

General Quake continued to stare.

“Oh, yeah...” said Scroll. “You guys don’t, uh, you don’t have winter...”

“You get five more words to make yourself look less retarded before I beat the shit out of you.”

Scroll and White exchanged another nervous glance. Scroll looked at the general and took a deep breath.

“It means presents and food,” said Scroll.

“You see,” added White, “this is a very special time of year, so the Fraternity receives a lot more in donations and they send more food and toys and things out to the missions for us to give to the ponies.”

“I said five words.”

“Sorry.”

“So, what the fuck is going on, then?”

“Well,” said Scroll, “on Hearth’s Warming Eve, we’re going to give this stuff away.”

“Yeah,” said White, “we’ll have a... we’ll have a party! We’ll give toys to all the fillies and colts, and give out free food and warm clothes-”

“Well, they don’t really need warm clothes if there’s no winter...”

“It’s a time to be happy, general. You know, it’s funny, before Equestria was founded, we were all very much like you-”

“Do you just enjoy hearing yourself talk?” asked General Quake.

“Sorry.”

Quake nodded to the soldier, who promptly hit White on the head.

“Ow!”

___________

It was early afternoon: the part of the day when the tavern hit a lull in business, with a workload so light that even Barrel couldn’t mess it up.

Barrel worked alone, cleaning the counter. The only other pony in the tavern was a bum who had passed out in the corner again. Barrel was trying to clean the counter as quickly as he could. The sooner he finished with his chores, the sooner he could slack off. That, however, would have to wait, as the door had just opened. Brother Scroll walked in, with Clip perched on his back.

“Heya,” greeted Scroll. He let himself in, looking around as Clip hopped off of his back. “So, uh, where’s Tap?”

“She went upstairs.” Barrel shrugged. “Can I do anything for ya?”

“Well,” said Scroll, “White and I’d like your help. Y’see, we got this massive shipment from the Fraternity- it’s for Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

“What do you want me for?”

“Well, we have a lot of stuff we’ll be handing out,” explained Scroll. “You see, we plan to have a party on Hearth’s Warming Eve. We’ll be at the mission house for the whole day, and we’ll be giving away food and gifts - toys for the foals, too.”

“Uh-huh...” Barrel said, nodding.

“Well...” Scroll said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “We were wondering if it’d be okay if you and Tap could lend us the tavern for the party.” Barrel opened his mouth to respond, but Scroll hastily added, “I mean, I understand if you don’t, but if you could, well...”

“Well, you’ll have to ask her. I mean, I’d probably get in trouble if I...”

“Right, right,” Scroll nodded. He looked around. “Hey, where’d Clip go?”

Clip had gone outside. He decided that he wanted to see Tap, and he knew just how to do that. He walked over to a nearby building and quickly climbed up the wall, taking advantage of any protrusions, ledges, windows, or other depressions to do so. Once he made it to the top of the building, it was simple to take a running leap to get to the tavern. He was much more careful this time, so as to not slip and fall and accidentally piss off a pedestrian below. Slowly, he let himself hang from the edge of the roof, before dropping down to the window below.

He managed to land on the windowsill with his hind legs, rather than hanging from it like he had last time. He peered inside. There was Tap alright, and-

Clip’s eyes went wide.

Tap was lying on the bed, but she wasn’t alone. There was a stallion lying next to her, sniffing her neck. Tap was smiling, and her eyes were closed. Clip just gaped at the sight, unsure of what it was he was looking at.

Then the stallion saw him.

“What the fuck?”

“Huh?” asked Tap, her eyes opening as well.

“There’s a fucking kid at the window!” the stallion said, getting up. “There goes my fucking boner.”

“Wait, what about-”

“Forget it,” the stallion said, “I’m out of here.”

The stallion marched out the door, leaving Tap alone. Clip watched, confused as to what had just happened. She sighed and shook her head, before looking at him.

“Knew I should’ve closed the curtains,” she said. She walked over to him. “What, do I have a regular peeping tom now?”

“I don’t know what that means...”

Tap opened the window, letting the colt inside.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Scroll is downstairs. Barrel said you were up here, so...” Clip shuffled his feat. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s alright,” said Tap. “Just, you had to come up to my window?”

“I just wanted to see you,” Clip said, feebly pawing at the floor.

Tap had to chuckle at that. “Well, c’mon. Let’s go downstairs before Scroll starts getting worried about you.”

___________

By evening, White had finally finished counting everything that the Fraternity had sent. Not counting the boxes General Quake had commandeered, the shipment included seven different kinds of cookies, dozens of loaves of bread, sixteen crates of apples, three pine trees and accompanying ornaments, several gingerbread house kits, and five “X-Treme Action”-brand scooters, and other various holiday goodies.

The door swung open, and White turned to see three ponies walk in.

“You Brother White?” asked the one in the center. He was a brown earth pony with a block of wood as his cutie mark.

“Yessir I am.” White beamed. “And you are...”

“Carpenter.”

“Well, Mr. Carpenter,” said White, “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we’re not having Trivia Night this week.” He turned around. “But if you like, I could fix you someth-”

Something hit him in the back of the head. White felt a dull pain before passing out.

___________

“Wake up, horner, we’ve waited long enough.”

White lifted his head, his eyes flickering open. He moaned a little and tried to shake himself awake.

“Okay,” he slurred, “we’ll play, but I get to pick the category.”

This was met with a hoof to the jaw.

“Ow!”

“Shut up,” growled the brown earth pony in front of him.

As White’s senses returned, he saw that they were in an alleyway. White could also see that there was a decent-sized crowd around them, as though everypony was waiting for a show. The lead earth pony, the brown one who’d met him at the mission house before he’d been knocked out, was standing in front of him. White tried to get out of his seat, but he found himself tied to it. There was also a rope tied around his neck that ran up, draped over a pole, and ran back down. The other end of the rope was in the mouth of another earth pony.

Carpenter had a shotgun leaning against his shoulder. He glared at Brother White, who was at a complete loss as to why he was tied up outside with a noose around his neck.

“What’s going on?” White asked.

“You take your sweet fucking time waking up, y’know that?”

“Well...” White tried to get himself into a more comfortable position, which was a futile effort. “I think you hit me on the head.”

“Wasn’t that hard,” said Carpenter. “But I guess I forgot you’re a horner. We gotta be a whole lot gentler than that.”

The crowd laughed. White was reminded of what Scroll had said about laughter a while ago - something about different kinds. White got the feeling that the crowd’s laughter was not one of the good kinds. “So,” he continued. “You’re Brother White.”

“Uh-huh,” replied the missionary, nodding. He looked at the crowd, beaming. “Brother White of the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia.”

“Fuck, you talk too much,” said Carpenter.

“What,” added the pony with the rope, “do you horners like hearing the sound of your own voice?”

“Funny, the general asked me that just earlier today...” White mused. This was met with a blow across his face from Carpenter. Clearly, his host was not amused by the coincidence.

“Ah!” White cried. “What was that for?”

“Well!” Carpenter turned to the crowd. “Bright shining faggot here wants to know what this is for!”

“Why’s there an audience?” White looked around at the crowd. “What’s going...” His eyes went wide as he realized why there was a pony there holding a rope around his neck, why there was a crowd, and why one of the ponies was hitting him. He remembered something very, very ugly from the first day of the mission.

“Oh, no...” He laughed in a nervous, high-pitched voice. “This, this is ridiculous.”

“What’s so fucking funny?”

“Well, this, this, this thing with the rope and the thing and the stuff and...” He stopped talking. He closed his eyes and inhaled. He opened his eyes and looked at Carpenter, who was leaning on his shotgun. “You’re trying to lynch me.”

“And you know why?”

“Not really,” White said nervously, his eyes flicking around the crowd. “Listen, I get that you don’t like unicorns, but come on... there’s no reason to do this.”

“Heh,” chuckled Carpenter. “No reason, he says. Faggot horner comes here, prances around acting like he’s better than all of us, and he says there’s ‘no reason.’”

“Well, just because you don’t like me-” Carpenter pointed the barrel of the gun in White’s face, prompting the unicorn to shut up.

“Let me tell you some things I’ve learned about you unicorns,” he said. His voice was softer this time. “I’ve had to deal with ponies like you my whole life. You come here in your flying castle, you rain fire on us, steal our food, and kill us. But that’s not all.” He turned around and faced the crowd. “The unicorns are cowards. Dirty, stinking cowards. Every last one one of them. Horner, you know how many of you I’ve killed?”

“I didn’t know there were other mes...”

“Lots,” he continued. “It’s funny, a lot of the soldiers have those little things that glow and make them disappear in the blink of an eye. I’ve always laughed when I saw them try to use them to get away. They almost always do. They come here, ready to fight, but the moment you start shooting at them they start to shit themselves. But I guess that makes sense. Us earth ponies, we don’t get to pick and choose our fights. Horners do. Wingers do. They come, and then they run.” He finally turned back to White.

“It makes me sick to think that a scummy horner like you is able to just dance around here with that faggy grin of yours. You and that other spineless pussy you’ve got with you. Y’know how many times you horners have destroyed my home?”

White didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question,” said Carpenter. “Fucking answer me!”

“I-I-I don’t know!” White stammered.

“Nine times,” he said. “Nine times your horners have destroyed my home. Every time, I’ve had to rebuild. Some things couldn’t be rebuilt, though. Sometimes you can’t just pick up the pieces and get a new home. Sometimes ponies die. Good ponies. Ponies we care about.” His voice dropped to a menacing growl. “Like my wife.”

He turned to the crowd. “How many of you have lost friends or family to an attack?”

Every single pony in the crowd raised a hoof.

“See that?” he asked, turning back to White. “See that, right there? That’s what you’ve done.”

White lowered his head, not saying a word. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sinking pit in his stomach: a feeling of shame. Shame about the fact that he could be associated with the ponies that had done so much damage to the island.

“Well? Why don’t you say anything?” He walked up to the missionary.

“I’m sorry.” White looked back up. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh, you don’t? Well, let me give you a few suggestions. First, why don’t you admit that you’re a faggy little horner?”

White stared at his captor, then at the crowd, then at the pony with the rope. The pony at the rope bit down, his eyes narrowed in a threatening display.

“I’m a...” White whispered. “I’m a faggy little horner.”

“Louder!”

“I’m a...” White shuddered. “I’m a faggy little horner!”

The crowd laughed again.

“Good,” said Carpenter. “Now tell me you’re a coward and a pussy.”

“I’m a coward and a...” White paused. He didn’t like using this kind of language. “...And a pussy.”

“Just like all other horners,” his captor nodded.

“Now tell us you have a small penis!” jeered a pony from the crowd. Carpenter ignored this.

“And now, one last thing...” he continued. White looked up at him. “Tell us that you’re worthless, that your entire race is nothing but a band of cowards and thieves. Tell us that you’re a sick faggot and a disgusting wretch. Tell us that you think we’d be doing the world a favor by killing you.”

White looked down again.

“I’m waiting.”

“I...” White began. He looked up at his captor, and then at the crowd. Then a thought occurred to him, and that thought seemed to drive away the shame. “No, I won’t.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” He looked at the crowd. “I’m sorry about all of you, really. I know you have your pride. But I have mine, too. I’m not going to say that I’m sorry for being a unicorn, or for, or for anything else you call me, because I’m not sorry. I’m happy with who and what I am, and I... I don’t understand it, how you can hate me because I have a horn on my head. I know that you’ve all suffered, that you’ve lost loved ones in this war. But I didn’t do any of those things. I’ve never killed a pony in my life. I never would kill a pony. Whatever it is you’ve suffered, I didn’t do it.”

“Lie!” snarled the leader. “What about my son?”

“Your son?”

“Buzz.”

White’s ears pricked up. “Oh! Buzz. You’re his father?” he asked, as the earth pony slowly walked up to him. “That’s good to hear. Y’see, I’ve been wanted to talk to you about him. Buzz has some real behavior prob-”

Carpenter swung the butt of his gun, striking White on the side of his face. The force of the blow caused the chair to rock, teetering on two legs. White tried to shift his weight to keep the chair upright, but he was still dizzy from the blow. He was going to fall. Or, he would have fallen, save for the rope around his neck, which caught him and held the chair up, teetering on two legs.

The noose tightened around White’s neck. He struggled, desperately trying to breathe, but he was only able to make sickly rattling sounds. Carpenter coldly stared at him, before looking at the pony holding the rope.

“Drop him.”

He released the rope, leaving White to crash to the ground with a thud. White loudly choked as his gasped for air. This wasn’t the first time somepony had tried to kill him. Once a couple of ponies had shot at him as he was walking out the door. Once, during an attack, a couple of soldiers seemed like they were ready to kill him after accusing him of being a spy.

This was different, though. This time it wasn’t a soldier or a drunk or anything. It was a mob of completely ordinary earth ponies that all wanted him dead. For the first time since he’d arrived on the island, a horrifying realization had come to him: these ponies hated him. They didn’t hate him in the way that a pony hates a rude or annoying peer. They hated him so much they wanted to see him die horribly.

“I... I don’t understand...”

“Yes you fucking do.”

“No, I don’t,” White moaned. “Why? What did I do?”

“Buzz told me what you did.” Carpenter hurled the butt of his gun again, striking White in the stomach. “About how you molested him.”

White looked up, his eyes wide with shock. “W...” he started. “What?”

“He told me what you did, you faggy little pervert.”

“What? No!” White squirmed. “This, this is ridiculous. This has to be a joke!”

“Does it look like I’m fucking laughing?” He leaned down. “He told me about how you invited him to the mission house, how you were all alone, and how you approached him...”

“No, no, no!” White stammered. “I never- he’s wrong!”

“SHUT UP!” the earth pony roared. He drove his hooves into White’s stomach. “Are you calling my son a liar?!”

“I...” White wheezed. “I’m telling you that I never touched your son. I’m telling you I’d never touch your son.” He looked up. “Buzz hates me. I don’t understand... I swear I don’t. I don’t understand anything at all here...”

He lay his head back down on the ground.

“I just wanted to be your friend...”

“Well, now you can fucking die.” He nodded to the pony with the rope, who nodded in turn. He gripped the rope and abruptly yanked backwards, jerking White’s head up and slowly lifting him off the ground. White desperately gasped for air against the rope, but he was completely helpless...

Then he realized that he could see the pony with the rope out of the corner of his eye. He had one shot. He put all of his concentration into his magic, fixating on the earth pony’s mouth. The pony’s mouth opened, releasing the rope and allowing Brother White to crash to the ground again, but barely on the edge of consciousness.

The crowd gasped as Carpenter looked around.

“Why, you little piece of shit!” he spat. He rushed up to White and started wailing on him, hitting him in the face and stomach with his hooves. White, tired, choked, and tied up, was unable to do anything to stop Carpenter as he landed blow after blow after blow.

“Think you’re clever, huh?!” Carpenter snarled. “Magic your way out of this, why doncha?”

He stopped his assault and stood over the battered unicorn. What little fight White had was gone.

“Yeah...” he panted, walking over to his gun. He lifted it and raised the barrel, aiming it squarely at White’s head. “Suck on this, you faggy little-”

“STAR HORSE TO THE RESCUE!” cried a voice. The crowd looked up and saw a little pink colt jump from the roof. Carpenter looked up in alarm as Clip landed on his face, making him stumble backwards.

There was a piercing BANG!, and the crowd looked around wildly.

“Alright, sons of bitches,” said Tap’s voice. The crowd parted, and White could faintly see Tap, Barrel, and Scroll, Tap with a smoking revolver in her mouth.

“White!” cried Scroll.

“Ugh!” shouted Carpenter, throwing Clip off of his face. “What the...”

“Alright, everypony, clear out,” said Tap.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Not a clue,” said Tap.

“We’re not letting you kill him,” said Barrel, trying to make himself look taller than he actually was. Scroll, meanwhile, ran over to where White was lying tied to the chair, and frantically pulled the noose off from around his neck.

“White, are you okay?”

“Well?” Tap asked. “Everypony clear out.”

“Stay out of this, whore,” snarled Carpenter. “This is my business.”

“What, did he look at your ass or something? You should take that as a compliment.”

Carpenter raised his shotgun, pointing it at Tap, who likewise aimed her revolver at him.

Clip had recovered from the flight and was back on his feet, ready to have another go.

“Dude...” said the hangstallion, “it’s not worth it.”

Carpenter snorted. “The hell it’s not! He molested my kid!”

Scroll, Clip, Tap, and Barrel stared at him.

“I didn’t do it...” said White. “I swear to Celestia it’s a lie...”

“What’s that mean?” Clip asked with a quizzical tilt of his head.

Tap, however, seemed to have found this outrageously funny, as she burst into such laughter that she dropped the gun.

“Really?” she asked. “That’s a good one. A really, really good one. How’d you come up with that?”

Scroll turned and looked at the crowd, Carpenter, Tap, and the hangstallion.

“What the...” Scroll mumbled. “What the fuck is wrong with you ponies?”

“Am I missing something?” asked a low voice. Every single pony in the alley looked back and saw General Quake standing there. “Did I miss another lynching?”

“Just in time,” spat Carpenter. “We were just about to off the horner.”

General Quake slowly walked up to Carpenter. “Why the fuck,” he started, “do you have a shotgun pointed at my mare?”

Carpenter’s expression was priceless. “No, I-I-I-I...” He dropped the shotgun.

“Better,” said Quake. He walked over to Brother White, who was lying on the ground, still tied to the chair. “So what’s this?”

“Hi, Quake...” White moaned.

“I was about to do something that should’ve been done a while ago,” said Carpenter.

“Oh, really?” Quake turned to face Carpenter. “Should’ve been done a while ago, huh? That’s what you think? Are you saying I didn’t do what I was supposed to do?”

Carpenter backed up.

“If there’s a horner here on the island who isn’t dead, and he continues to not be dead, then I usually have a pretty fucking good reason for it. Do you know what happens if this guy dies?”

The mob shifted uneasily.

“If he dies, then I have to make sure that his pals back home don’t figure out. I have to forge letters, and it isn’t fucking easy. I mean, have you read this guy’s shit? I don’t think there’s anyone on this entire fucking island who’s fruity enough to make it convincing. Worse yet, he writes every fucking week. And then what am I gonna do about this fucking pussy?” He waved a hoof in Brother Scroll’s direction.

Carpenter glared silently at the missionaries.

“They have a certain amount of ‘protection,’” continued Quake. “That’s why they’re still alive. If one of them dies, and word gets out that one of them dies, then we risk having an incident. We already cut it too close when these dipshits spilt the fact that the last pair of missionaries skipped town. And y’know something? I don’t want a fucking incident.”

Barrel and Clip went over to Brother White and began untying him from the chair. The crowd, no longer having a show, began to disperse. Scroll looked at Quake, but Quake was already beginning to walk away.

“This isn’t over, you little fag,” said Carpenter, before he, too, departed.

Scroll didn’t pay any attention to Carpenter. He looked back at White. The unicorn’s face was bleeding and bruised, and he was shivering.

“White, oh Celestia, are you okay?” Scroll asked. White sat up, still shaking a little.

“I-I’m fine,” said White. He forced a laugh. “I-I’m still smiling. See? I’m smiling.”

---

Chapter 18

“So, as soon as this Heart-Warming thing is over, you get the tree out, got that?”

Tap was very adamant on this. She’d agreed to play host to their party, but it took a lot of convincing for her to allow that big, gaudy tree into her tavern.

“Got it,” said White. White didn’t pay much attention to her, though. He was occupied with decorating the tree with brightly-colored baubles and bangles and banners and beads. The ornaments floated around him as he tried to arrange them in just the right way.

The door opened and a patron walked in. He stopped and stared at the tree, unsure of what to make of it.

“What the f...” he muttered.

“Don’t ask,” said another patron.

Tap noticed that sometimes the floating ornaments dipped or twitched ever so slightly. She approached him.

“Hey, White, are you okay?” she asked.

“Huh?” White turned to face her. “Oh, I’m fine. Thanks for letting us use your tavern for the party.”

“You’re welcome,” said Tap, “but I really don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Well, it’s simple,” White explained. “We’re going to have a nice party, with free food and gift exchanges and a punch bowl. And during the day we’ll give toys to all the foals who come by.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Tap sighed with an exasperated shake of her head. “Well, actually, yeah, that is what I mean, but... they tried to kill you, and now you’re talking about giving them presents?”

“Maybe it’ll make them want to kill me less?” White suggested. When he saw Tap’s unconvinced facial expression he continued, “look, it’s what you do for Hearth’s Warming. The presents, I mean, not the killing. I mean, what am I going to say - ‘sorry, you don’t get presents because of the lynch mob?’”

“Well, it’d at least be funny,” said Tap. “I gotta go down to the cellar and check on a few things. If Barrel comes back, tell him to get behind the counter and be ready for customers.”

“Can do,” said White as he returned to the tree. He heard a door open and shut, signifying that Tap had gone down to the cellar to make sure everything was in order.

The front door opened, and White turned to see Scroll step inside, looking around.

“Hey,” said White, “so, did you manage to get your presents in order?”

“I think so,” whispered Scroll. “I wanted to, um, show you this.” He produced a small box. White eyed the box suspiciously as Scroll beckoned him to come over.

“What is it?” White asked.

“It was my mother’s,” Scroll said as he opened the box, revealing a tiny gold locket. He carefully lifted it by its gold chain. “My father gave it to her a long time ago. She gave it to me. She said...” He gulped. “She told me to give it to the pony I was in love with.”

The two stood there, looking back and forth from each other to the locket.

“I’m thinking of giving it to Tap,” Scroll concluded.

“Ah. Well, I think she’ll like it.”

“You think so?” Scroll asked.

“Absolutely!”

“What’re you two colts talking about?” asked Tap. Scroll’s face went red and he nearly dropped the locket, but he quickly hid it on the floor behind his hoof.

“Nothing!” the two shouted in unison.

“Anyway, we gotta get back to the mission house,” said White. “We’ll be back later.”

“Bye!” Scroll said, trying his best to scoop up the locket and box as inconspicuously as he could.

Tap watched the two as they scurried out the door.

“Think she suspects anything?” Scroll asked once they cleared the threshold.

“Not a thing,” said White.

“Yes I do!” called Tap’s voice from inside.

“Ah well...” Scroll shrugged. The two Brothers walked through the streets of the town, both a little skittish and watching their backs, afraid of what might happen.

“You don’t think they’ll...” Scroll gulped. “You don’t think they’ll try anything like that again, do you?”

“No, I don’t think so... not if the general told them not to.”

“We’d better be extra special nice to the general, then,” Scroll concluded.

“Hey, we should always be extra special nice to everypony,” White said. “That’s the mission, after all.”

“Right, right...”

White spotted Buzz sitting off on the side of the road, glaring at him. He wasn’t making any terrible jokes or barbs or slurs or any of his usual abuses. Just glaring.

“I don’t get it...” White said. “Why would he do that? Why would he lie about... about that? I don’t understand.”

“There’s a lot I don’t think we understand,” said Scroll. “White? Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay!” White protested. “I’m always okay.”

“Well, if you’re ever not...” said Scroll, “you can talk to me, okay?”

White stopped and looked at him.

“Please?” asked Scroll. “You’re always there for me, and I want to be there for you.”

“Well, alright,” White said. “If I ever need support, I’ll know who to come to.” They started walking again. “You know, I didn’t thank you for saving me.”

“You don’t have to!” said Scroll. “Remember what you told me? You’re my best friend. How could I not have done that?”

“Well, still,” said White. “By that logic, maybe the only pony I should thank is General Quake.”

Both of the Brothers laughed at this as they came to the mission house. Clip was happily bouncing up and down on the giant trampoline they had in front.

“You know, maybe I should thank the general,” said White as they entered into the mission house.

“What?”

“He saved my life,” White explained. A hopeful smile came back onto this face. “I think maybe... maybe I’ve reached something! Oh!” White laughed. “Oh, General Quake. You try to be all tough, but I can see right through it!”

“Uhh...”

White marched into the bunk room, seizing his nametag and necktie. “It’s time to get to work.”

“Uhh, White, I’m not sure this is a good idea...”

“When has that ever stopped me?” White asked. “I’m onto something, Scroll.” He floated a book from the pile. “You continue with the Hearth’s Warming preparations. Me...” He threw the doors open. “I’ve got a mission.”

White stood at the front of the mission house, sporting his red tie, his nametag, and a book. His mane was neatly combed back and there was a fire in his eyes as he set forth with his resolve: He was going to march right up to the general and convert him. The time for doubt was over, and the time for action had begun.

General Quake had saved his life. White thought that maybe, just maybe, there was something in him that he hid beneath that crude, crass, brutish, rough, gruff, tough, jackass exterior.

A warlord who bucks ponies’ heads right off, he thought. What’s so scary about that?

White marched down the road, oblivious to the cries of “fuck you!” thrown by the various townsponies. White had never been so sure of anything in his life.

I believe, he thought, that there’s a special magic in friendship. I believe that it can bring harmony to all the world. And I believe that you can be a great friend, even if you’re a murdering racist.

“Good day, gentlecolts!” White said, approaching a few soldiers. “I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the general.”

“The fuck do you want to talk to him for?” asked one of the soldiers.

“Because I believe,” White explained, “that the magic of friendship can bring us all together. Because I believe that I can be friends with the general. Because I am a Brother.”

The soldiers stared at him.

“He’s at the camp,” said one of the soldiers, pointing. “That way.”

“Thank you!” exclaimed White as he bounded off in the direction the soldier had pointed.

The soldiers looked at each other. “Should we follow him?” one of them asked.

“Yes,” said another. “This is gonna be hilarious.”

___________

General Quake, meanwhile, was sitting and looking over one of the boxes he had commandeered from the mission. He felt like an idiot.

Toys, he thought, I commandeered a fucking toybox.

“General!” called a soldier. “We have an intruder!”

“Excuse me?” asked the general.

“He’s just... walking in!”

Brother White burst into the encampment, his chest puffed up high and proud.

“General Quake!” he called.

“Oh, no...” the general mumbled.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming!” White exclaimed. “You know, I never got to thank you for saving me. Thank you.”

“You’re not welcome.”

“General, I know that you don’t like me.”

“And here I thought Scroll was supposed to be the smart one,” Quake muttered. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I want to be your friend!”

General Quake stared at him. “What the fuck is this?”

“I believe,” White said, “that through the magic of friendship, we can end the war!”

“Just how many times did that guy hit you in the head?”

“General, you saved my life,” White said as he floated the book in front of him. “You said it was because you didn’t want to risk an incident with Equestria and you didn’t want to forge my letters.”

“I regret that.”

“But Quake,” said White, “I believe that you could be a great friend. I think you could be a Brother. Think of it - you, me, and Scroll!”

Quake made an expression that plainly said that he did not want to think of it.

“Whaddya say?” White said. “We can end the war and bring peace and happiness to the island!”

“Hold him,” said Quake. Suddenly, several soldiers seized White. The unicorn’s confidence quickly dropped from his face as the general slowly stood up and approached him. “I’m going to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time now.”

___________

“Thanks for the help, Barrel,” said Scroll. “I think we’ve got all the party supplies moved over to the tavern.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Barrel. “I’m just glad that I could be of some use.”

“Well, see ya later!” said Scroll.

Scroll made his way back to the mission house, hoping that Brother White would be home in one piece. He knew he shouldn’t have let him go see the general all on his own. He sat down, deciding to wait.

After a few minutes, he heard something strange. It sounded like a far-off screaming, but it seemed to be coming from above. He looked up and saw Brother White careening through the sky. His jaw dropped as he watched White fall right down onto the giant trampoline before sailing through the air again. He disappeared behind some buildings with a loud crash.

Scroll stood there for a minute, sputtering like a fool, before running after him. He found the unicorn lying on his back, his legs in the air, weakly whimpering. Thankfully for White, his fall had been broken by a large pile of garbage.

“White!” Scroll cried. “Are you okay?”

“Not really...”

___________

“I could’ve told you it was a dumb idea,” said Tap.

White was lying on his bunk, groaning. Scroll was next to him, examining the unicorn’s posterior. Barrel and Clip watched the whole thing with a sense of awkward confusion.

“Wow...” said Scroll. “He actually shoved the book up your ass.”

“I know, Scroll,” groaned White.

“It’s just that, well,” Scroll said, “how can it fit in there? Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“This...” Barrel started. “This doesn’t mean that the party’s being delayed, is it?”

“No,” said White, lifting his head up. “No it doesn’t. We’re still having our party and our presents.”

“You’ll just have to lie down for a while,” said Scroll. “As soon as we can get this thing out...”

Tap sat down, watching the scene with a sense of detached amusement. She knew that she should’ve felt a lot more concern for Brother White, but it wasn’t as grave as a lynching attempt, and she found the sight of Scroll nervously staring at White’s ass funny.

“I think what I need,” said White, “is a long trip to the bathroom.”

“And be careful with how you walk for a while,” suggested Tap.

“We’ve got your presents,” said White in an attempt to change the subject. “Why don’t we open them now so that it takes my mind off of this?”

“I’ll go get them,” said Scroll as he scurried off into the main room.

“What’d you get?” asked Clip.

“You’ll see,” White said, grinning a little. “And plans are still the same tomorrow. Scroll and I will be here at the mission house giving presents, and then we’ll come over for the party.”

“As long as nopony pisses in the punch bowl,” said Tap.

Scroll re-entered the room, carrying two brightly-colored packages. He placed one of them in front of Barrel and the other in front of Clip. Clip eagerly tore at the wrapping paper to reveal a large cardboard box with the image of a robot on it.

Kids like robots, the missionaries had reasoned.

While Clip struggled with the copious amounts of packaging, Barrel opened his box to find a stuffed seagull.

“I gathered you liked seabirds,” Scroll said.

“Thanks!” Clip and Barrel said in unison.

Tap laughed softly. “Well, Barrel, we’d better get back to the tavern. You two sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah,” said White, “I just need to use the bathroom.”

Tap and Barrel turned to leave, exiting the bunk room. However, Scroll followed them out.

“Wait, Tap!” said Scroll. “I haven’t given you your present yet.”

Oh, no, thought Tap. “Barrel, you go on ahead.”

“Okay...” said Barrel. He eyed Scroll suspiciously, but left without saying anything. Scroll walked over to the desk and opened a drawer, producing the box.

“I, uh... I wanted to give you this,” he said, pushing it forward.

“Is this the thing you were talking about with White earlier today?” Tap asked as she took the box. She opened it and stared at the little gold locket inside. “What... what is this?”

“It’s a locket,” said Scroll.

I wonder how much I could sell it for? was Tap’s first immediate thought. She looked back at Scroll, who seemed to have been overcome with nervousness. She looked back to the locket, carefully lifting it out of the box. It was a little gold heart on a gold chain.

“It’s very pretty,” she said.

“I hoped you’d like it,” said Scroll.

Tap laughed. “Well, great. Now I have to get you something, and I have no idea.”

“Well,” Scroll said, fidgeting with his glasses, “I can think of one thing...”

“What?” Tap asked.

Scroll took a deep breath. “Tap,” he said, “would you go out with me? On a... on a date?”

Tap stared at him. So he hadn’t given up.

Tap thought back to when she was a little bit younger, and she had all these romantic notions in her head. Sometimes she had dreamed, or at least fantasized, about a perfect stallion: one who was strong, handsome, kind, and was interested in what she wanted, rather than himself. As time went on she became more accustomed to the reality. If they were strong, they were usually cruel. If they were handsome, they were usually vain. If they were kind, they were usually gay. If they were interested in what she wanted, they were usually masochists, and that creeped her out.

And now, here was Scroll. Sweet, nebbish, what-the-hell-is-he-somehow-a-virgin-again Scroll. This guy, who even after getting from her for free what she normally sold, came back and said he wanted something else. Scroll, one of the only ponies on the island who seemed to care about her as a pony and not just an object.

“Well, alright,” she said.

“Really?” Scroll asked.

“Really,” said Tap. “Have a happy Heart-Warming or whatever it’s called.” She looked down at the locket dangling from her hoof. “And thank you.”

Scroll watched as Tap left. The door shut, and Scroll stood there for a minute. Then he let out an excited squeal and stamped his hooves on the floor.

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes YES!” he exclaimed.

“Scroooooll?” White called from the bunk room. “I think I need help getting to the bathroom!”

___________

The next day, Brother White was able to pull off the surprising feat of both walking with a spring in his step and limping.

“We’re not in any danger of running out of presents, are we?” he asked.

“Umm...” Scroll looked at the large pile of presents and then looked at the rest of the mission house, which was empty. “No, I think we’re good.”

Sadly, it seemed that the foals of the town were not interested in getting free presents. Also, Scroll thought that the fake glowing snowpony was a bad idea. One of the foals who walked in stared at the snowpony for a full ten minutes before asking what on Earthquake Island it was supposed to be. Still, they’d wait and hope some for some foals to come.

Meanwhile, a box with a depiction of a robot suddenly sprouted pink legs and started walking around the room. “Beep! Beep!” said Clip. “I’m a robot! Take me to your leader!”

“That’s aliens...” said Scroll.

“Beep! Beep!” Clip yelled as he aimlessly walked into the kitchen.

The door opened and in walked a little brown colt. Buzz entered slowly, looking around with a bitter glare on his face. White and Scroll stared at him.

“Well...” said White. “Hi.” There was an awkward pause. “Why, uh, why’d you say that I did that?”

“He nearly died,” said Scroll.

“I hate you,” Buzz whispered. “I hate you!”

White and Scroll looked at each other and then back at Buzz.

“Well,” said White, not one to be defeated. “Here, have this.” He floated one of the many packages over to Buzz. “Have a Happy Hearth’s Warming.”

Buzz stood there, staring and glaring. After ejecting every possible dagger from his eyes, he took the package in his mouth and walked out the door. He grumbled to himself about how much he hated both of those faggots, but especially White. However, somepony was waiting for him outside the door.

“Hey,” said Tap.

“Huh?” Buzz asked. He looked up as Tap shoved him to the ground, making him drop his package. “Hey, what-”

“Shut up,” said Tap, pressing a hoof down on his chest. “You have got to be the most repugnant little fuckwad I’ve ever met, you know that? Oh sure, I can understand being an asshole - pretty much everypony on this island is, but you’re a real vicious little shit.”

Buzz didn’t say anything; he was too frightened of her.

“I mean, first you throw rocks at my little brother, and then you try to get one of the missionaries killed. And by lying that he molested you, of all things.” She laughed bitterly. “But you know something, I think I know why you did that.”

Buzz gulped.

“Oh, you hate Brother White. You really fucking hate him, but not because he’s a horner. At least, not just because of that.”

“I fucking hate that f-” Buzz began, but Tap pressed her hoof down.

“Shut your fucking mouth, you little punk,” she snarled. She lowered her head, resuming. “You know, you accusing him of molesting you served two funny purposes. It gives your daddy a reason to get all his buddies together for a lynch mob, but it also gives you an opportunity – an opportunity to tell everypony about your little fantasies...”

“Shut up!”

“Oh yes, it’s funny, you hate Brother White because you like him. There’s a lot to like when you ignore the stupidity and the self-righteous sermonizing – He’s nice, he’s very attractive, and he has that dazzling smile. Nice singing voice, too. And he’s just dumb enough to try to be your friend even after tons of abuse. And every day you see him out, singing and giving books to ponies and being so ‘gosh-darn nice’ about everything. And you notice. You can’t help but notice it. It’s like he’s showing you this great big world where ponies can be nice to each other, and even though it’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard in your life, what you wouldn’t give to believe in it. And on top of that, isn’t he handsome?” She smirked. “That neatly-combed mane, the dazzling smile, the milky-white coat, those flanks, that horn?”

“Shut up...”

“He’s like a great big fucking knight in shining armor, here to take you away from the horrible life here, and who’d accept you for something you wouldn’t dare open up to your father about, so you have to get rid of him because you can’t get him out of your head-”

“SHUT UP!” Buzz spat. “JUST SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”

Tap lifted her hoof and the little colt scurried to his feet and ran off. White stuck his head out the door.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

“Nothing important,” said Tap. “Just giving him a piece of my mind.”

White looked down sadly at the package. “He forgot his present...”

___________

White and Scroll had their matching party hats on and were quickly doing the last bits of setting-up they needed for the party in the tavern.

“Hey, open up!” shouted an angry voice from outside the door.

“In a minute!” called White as he set the final piece: the punch bowl. “Alright, Tap, open up!”

Tap took the bar from the door and the door opened.

“Fucking finally...” muttered one of the ponies as he walked in. However, he stopped right after he passed the doorway.

“Dude, fucking move!” said a pony behind him. However, the first pony was still in awe of the gaudy paper, balloons, and candy canes plastered about the room.

“Welcome!” said Brother White. “Come in! Come in!”

“We have punch and sparkling cider!” said Scroll. “And remember to make sure everypony has had firsts before you start having seconds.”

The ponies streamed in, stating variations of “what the fuck?”

“Good ponies of Earthquake Island,” said White, raising a glass of cider. “I would like to welcome you all here for this Hearth’s Warming Eve party.”

“What’s going on?” asked an exasperated patron.

“He’s giving a speech,” said Tap. “He does that a lot.”

“This winter festival is a celebration of the founding of Equestria, of the end of an era when ponies, very much like yourselves, were able to put aside their differences and enter into an age of harmony and prosperity. It was the magic of friendship that saved those ponies so very long ago, and the magic of friendship will continue to save us and carry us through even the darkest of times. Do not fret, my friends, for the bad times upon us now are merely a fading shadow of bigotry and hatred. So let us celebrate this night with merriment and joy!”

There was the dull sound of a hoof hitting the floor in subdued applause.

“We also have pin-the-tail-on-the-pony,” added Scroll.

The ponies of Earthquake Island, however, were not particularly interested in party games. They did, however, look around the room - for once, it seemed they were interested in free food, even if it didn’t have alcohol.

“We also have ‘spin the bottle...’” Scroll said, before noticing that the patrons were almost exclusively male. “Oh. That isn’t going to work.”

White, meanwhile, ventured over to a few ponies who were at the punch bowl. “Hiya!” he said. The other ponies stared at him.

“Hi...”

“How’s the punch?”

“I haven’t tried it yet.”

“Oh,” said White. “Well, then, I’ll leave you to it.”

One of the ponies watched as White went over to explain to another pony what the pine tree was for. Yet another pony scooped out a cup of punch and tasted it.

“How is it?”

“It’s okay,” said the pony with a shrug. “I like something with a bit more kick to it, though. Hmm...” He produce a flask and poured out the cork. “How about we try adding some of this.”

The “party” didn’t really pick up, as many of the usual patrons just went about doing what they usually did at the tavern, save for the few who ventured over to the food table. The Brothers, however, judged the party as a success on account of the turnout.

“Great, just great,” said White as he prepared two cups of punch. “I think we might finally be making some headway.”

Scroll took a drink from his cup. “Tap said yes,” he said. “She said she’d go out with me.”

“Really?” asked White. “That’s great! I tell ya, Scroll, things are finally starting to look up. Even my rear doesn’t hurt as much right now.” He finished his cup. “Great punch, Scroll. I’ll have another.”

“Me too.”

Barrel and Tap tended to their customers at the counter, because most of the stallions there were interested in hard cider rather than sparkling cider. Barrel shuffled back and forth between two stallions whose orders he had mixed up.

“Sorry, sorry...” he said. He looked over at his sister, and noticed the gold locket around her neck. “What’s that?”

“Just something that Scroll gave me for Hearth’s Warming,” she said in her offhand manner.

“Oh,” he said. “Was that what he wanted you to stay for?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Why didn’t he just give it to you when they gave presents to me and Clip?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Barrel,” she sighed. “Maybe he just forgot or something.”

“Forgot?”

“Well, almost forgot.”

“You still got my order wrong!” called an irritated bar patron.

“Hold on, I’ll get it,” Tap said, eager to break away from Barrel’s awkward questioning. The last thing she needed was for Barrel to get suspicious of Scroll. After all, the Brothers had been good to him, taken him in and practically given him membership, nametag and all. True, she thought it was stupid, but the idea of friction between Barrel and Scroll over her was not something she wanted to put up with.

“Hello!” said Brother White, approaching the counter.

“Hi,” said Tap, not missing a beat as she corrected the customer’s order.

“Here,” White said as he floated two cups, one to her and one to Barrel. “Have some of the punch. It’s really good! I mean...” He looked at a few ponies who were standing by the bowl. “It seems to be pretty popular.”

The other ponies at the punch bowl looked into it.

“So you put what into it?” one of them asked.

“Oh, just my special stuff,” said another. “Thought it’d give it a little kick, y’know?”

“Good idea,” said another pony, who produced his own flask.

___________

“Well, thawas great!” shouted Brother White, watching the last few patrons leave the tavern. “Have a happy... happy hoppy Heart-Warming Eve!”

“Dude...” said one of the patrons. “You’re gonna need one hell of a shower tomorrow.”

“I always do!” said White proudly. His mane was messy, as was his red tie. He had at one point dunked his head into the apple barrel and needed to be pulled out by a frantic Scroll (“Not my fault the apples kept moving...” he grumbled).

Tap was chatting with Scroll, who was giggling uncontrollably.

“I tell ya, that’s the last time I do that,” she said. She swayed a little in her chair. “Fuck, I’m drunk.” She looked at Scroll. “You’re all full of giggles and stuff, aren’t ya?”

“Snkt... I can’t help it...” Scroll said, trying to stifle himself.

“Well, it’s a nice night...” she looked over at Barrel, who had fallen asleep at the counter. She sighed and thought for a minute. Then a grin came across her face and she turned back to Scroll.

“You know somethin’?” she asked, trying very hard to keep her face straight. She had a hilarious idea, and it was all she could do to keep from cracking up.

“What?” Scroll asked.

“I was just thinking,” Tap said, leaning into Scroll’s ear, “that it’d be totally sweet if you...” She whispered the rest. Scroll burst into fits of giggles.

“Heehee! You really think-”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“Oh, I dunno...” Scroll said, unable to suppress his giggles. He looked over at Tap, who was smiling at him. “Oh, alright.” He got up and slowly walked over to Brother White, who was examining the punch bowl.

“Y’know, it’s funny,” said White, “like, real real funny. I think the punch bowl is magical.”

“Magical?” asked Scroll. “Howso?”

“Like, I keep drinking punch,” White explained with vague hoof-motions, “but it never goes emty. And it changes color. An’ tase.”

“Hey,” said Scroll. “So, how’d you think the party wen’?”

“I think ihwent predy well,” White slurred.

“Good...” Scroll said, before he resumed his fits of giggling.

“Whatso funny?”

“I like your mane...”

“Yep,” White said. “I always keep it brushed an’ stuff.” He looked at Scroll. “Your mane’s nice too.”

Scroll giggled some more. “So...” he said, “I was just talking with Tap...”

White looked behind Scroll and saw Tap seated on a bench, watching them with an excited grin on her face. White looked back at Scroll, who was blushing. White cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

“She thought it’d be totally awesome if we...” Scroll leaned in and whispered into White’s ear. White’s other ear twitched, and he looked back at Tap, who was grinning back at the pair.

“Huh,” said White. He looked from Tap back to Scroll, and then back at Tap again.

“Yeah, I think-” Scroll was cut off as White grabbed him and pressed his face into his, locking them in a kiss. Scroll’s eyes went wide in surprise before he relaxed into a lull.

Tap watched she saw each of them raise a hoof and run it through the other’s manes as they kissed. the smile on her face widened.

“Yeah...” she said. “You two are... you two are really goin’ at it, aren’tya?” She leaned back, still grinning. “Nice...”

Scroll and White broke off the kiss.

“Wow...” Scroll gasped. He looked at Tap. “He’s a really good kisser.”

“Lot of stage ‘sperience...” slurred White.

“Well...” Tap got up from her seat and walked over to them. “That was a show a girl likes to see.” She smiled at Scroll. “Girls like me love that stuff.” Scroll giggled. She looked at White. “You should totally do that again.”

“Nnnnnope,” said White. “One’s enough for now. ‘Sides, I think Scroll’d hyperventitilate.”

Scroll bust up laughing at that and fell into a chair as White walked over to the punch bowl and took the ladle. “Oh, gosh-darnit,” he said as he struggled. “Punch won’t stay in the ladle.”

“I don’t think that counts as punch anymore...” Tap said.

“Here!” White said, lifting a cup. “A toast to Hearth’s-Warming Eve and friendship and the Fraternity and... and stuff!”

“Stuff!” echoed the other two.

---

Chapter 19

Tap groaned. Her head felt like it was going to split open. She tried to remember what happened. She remembered that there was that party, and that she got drunk.

Great, she thought, somepony spiked the punchbowl.

On one level, this annoyed her because it meant that ponies were getting booze without buying it from her. She’d figured that the Brothers would provide their punch and cider and cookies and other stuff that didn’t get ponies drunk, and she’d go about selling liquor.

She didn’t remember at which point she realized the punch was spiked, but by that point she didn’t care. Everypony got drunk.

Oh, no, she thought, even Barrel.

It wasn’t that Barrel had never drank before, just that Tap didn’t want him to drink until he was older.

Well, she decided, nothing to do but wait for the hangover to end.

She laughed a little. The missionaries would probably not react well. Oh, how they disapproved of the booze, and yet they’d gotten drunk out of their minds. And then she got them to make out. She grinned at that. Unfortunately, that was about as far as she could recall from the previous night. Still, she found herself in her own bed, so she hoped nothing bad had happened in that hazy spot. She was still worried about Barrel and the missionaries.

Well, she thought as she opened her eyes, better get down to work and hope–

Her thoughts were interrupted. She saw Brother Scroll lying fast asleep right next to her, a small trail of drool trickling from his mouth. She stared at him. He was sleeping like a rock, no doubt a result of heavy drinking.

Oh, fuck... Tap looked up at the ceiling. She wondered: If Scroll didn’t remember anything, then what would he do when he woke up? And what happened?

She sat up with a groan, before she saw something that made her eyes even wider. Next to Scroll was Brother White, also sleeping like a rock.

Well, damn. She lay back down, trying to think. You know, maybe nothing happened, she decided. Maybe they were just too drunk to walk home and they decided to crash here.

With some effort, she managed to haul herself out of bed and over to a cracked and dirty mirror. The reflection showed that her lust red mane was an absolute mess. She snorted in disgust before reaching into her drawer to pull out a brush.

She certainly hoped nothing had happened. If something had happened, she would like it if she were able to remember it. She turned around, looking at the two. She had to smile; they looked adorable in bed together.

There was a loud knock on the door.

“Tap?” asked Barrel’s voice. “Are you alright?”

Oh, shit.

“Uhh, yeah, Barrel, I’m fine,” said Tap. “Am I late?”

“Uhh, yeah.”

“Well, fuck,” said Tap. “Just hold on, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Mmmm...” groaned Scroll. “No, mom, I don’t wanna go to school, I have a tummyache...”

“Me neither,” White groaned.

Tap rushed over to them. “Be quiet, you two!” she whispered.

“Tap, are you okay?” asked Barrel. “Is there somepony in there with you? Why is your door locked?”

“Uhh, nopony’s in here!” Tap lied.

“Tap?” asked Barrel.

“Yes?” Tap asked. There was a deafening silence, broken only by Brother White squirming slightly.

“Is this what a hangover feels like?”

“Yes, Barrel,” Tap sighed. “Look, I’m a mess, could you... could you just go down and help with the drink orders?”

“Yeah, I kinda suck at that...” Barrel said.

The clopping sounds of hoofsteps indicated his departure. She let out a sigh of relief. She looked back at the bed and thought about what she was going to do about the missionaries. She needed to get them up, out of her bed, and out of her house.

“Alright, you two,” she said, walking over to Brother White. “Party’s over.”

“Mm?” moaned White. His eyes opened. “Not today, sorry. I’m taking the day off...” He blinked. “Hi. How are you?”

“Pretty shitty,” said Tap. “But that’s how hangovers are.”

“Oh... sorry,” said White as he sat up. “It’s a nice bed.”

“Yes it is,” said Tap, going back to her mirror and continuing to brush her hair. “And if you’ve got money you can use it again, but I have to get to work.”

Scroll groaned. “My head. It hurts...” He sat up. “Uh...” He looked around. “I’m in–” He faced White. “This isn’t our bunk.”

“No it isn’t...” said White.

“Fuck, you two are slow on the uptake,” said Tap.

White and Scroll slowly pulled themselves out of bed, shaking their heads and groaning.

“What... what happened last night?” asked White.

“You two got very, very drunk,” said Tap, “and you made out.” The missionaries exchanged shocked looks. “That’s about as far as I remember,” she sighed in conclusion, a small smile on her face. “I figure you guys can show yourselves out. Just don’t let Barrel see you walking out or he’ll get suspicious.”

“Is something wrong with Barrel?” asked Scroll.

“No, he’s just, well...” Tap sighed. “He doesn’t like what I do to support us. A lot of ponies tease him about it: ‘Hey, tell your sister she’s a real great screw!’ and stuff like that.” She walked to the door and unlatched the bolt.

She walked down the stairs and found herself wishing that she hadn’t opted to build the tavern to two stories again. She dreaded what she’d have to put up with when she got downstairs.

She saw her tavern full of the usual regulars. She also saw the tree. Those two silly colts were going to help her get rid of that thing if she had to force them.

An angry customer was already haranguing Barrel for screwing up yet another order.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” asked the customer, pushing himself in Barrel’s face. “When I say ‘ale,’ I don’t mean ‘ginger ale!’”

Tap walked behind the counter and grabbed a bottle. “Here!” she said, slamming it down on the counter. “Now shut up and drink it or I’ll shove the bottle up your ass.”

___________

“I keep saying ‘we’re not drinking,’” said Brother White. “And still, we end up drinking!”

The missionaries slowly trudged into the mission house before gazing in despair at the ramshackle condition of the room. The main room was piled high with unopened packages from the day before, scattered haphazardly. The ungiven presents served as a sordid reminder that once again, an endeavor of theirs had been met with lackluster success. Still, at least one pony had enjoyed his present: Clip was snuggled up in his box, sleeping.

Scroll stood there and smiled at the sleeping colt while White carried on into the kitchen, resuming his tirade. White made a beeline for the fridge, deciding that he needed some milk. He didn’t feel well enough to use his magic, so he simply opened the door and took out the carton with his mouth. He set the carton on the counter and went for the cupboard, all the while grumbling to himself.

“How can they like that stuff... it doesn’t even taste good...”

He poured himself a glass of milk and gulped it down. “Okay,” he said. “That’s... almost better.” He marched back into the mission house and surveyed the mess. “Okay, so we’ve got a mess to clean up, then we have to go...” His eyes fell on something in the corner of the room: the disc launcher.

He shuddered at the memory of the device. He remembered how the pegasi came flying in with tornados, and how the earth ponies had fought back. They got the idea to throw metal discs at the tornados, where they whirled around and hacked up the soldiers inside the funnel. The end result was a shower of mangled body parts mixed with rain.

Now Quake had given White one of the disc launchers and offered him the choice of using it the next time the pegasus army attacked.

White narrowed his eyes. He’d made his choice.

“Scroll, let’s get ready,” White said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

White grabbed a comb as he marched into the bathroom. He cringed at the sight of himself in the mirror, with his messy mane and crooked tie. Nothing I can’t fix, he decided as he ran the comb through his mane. The dry, tangled mane made it difficult to pull the comb through, leading White to wonder if he should take a shower. He decided against it; he needed to keep focused.

“All right!” he boomed as he walked back into the mission house.

“Whu…?” Clip said as he was roused from his sleep.

“Scroll,” White said as he walked up to the disc launcher, “any chance you could help me with this thing?”

“Uhhhh…” said Scroll.

White tried to hoist it onto his back, but it proved just a little too heavy for the unicorn. His legs nearly gave way, but Scroll rushed over to help him hold it up.

“Woah, hold on there…” said Scroll. “Maybe we should, um…” White’s eyes met with his. They were close, almost close enough to touch. “Maybe we should put it in the wheelbarrow?” he finished.

CLANG! went the device as it fell into the wheelbarrow. The launcher was so heavy that it left a dent in it.

“Alright! Good,” said White, hurriedly pushing the wheelbarrow out the door.

“Uhh, White?” asked Scroll. “What are we doing?”

“What we are doing, Brother Scroll,” explained White as he took a breath, “is formally declaring our intentions to General Quake.”

“You did that two days ago…”

“Different declaration, Scroll,” said White. Scroll noticed that White was pushing the wheelbarrow toward the docks. He had to wonder just what was going on inside White’s head. He considered the way White acted: theatrical; bombastic; feelings first, thoughts later.

Ships were coming into the harbor, as usual. There were some crates on the dock: the islanders’ exports. The ships were, of course, carrying supplies for the mission, and Quake was there as usual to see if there was anything he wanted first claim to.

“Hiya, Quakey!” called White. Quake turned his head around to look at him, his eyes wide and his face bearing an expression that said that if White called him that again he’d shove those discs up his ass, one by one. “So,” said White, stopping and leaning on the wheelbarrow, “you gave me this, this thingy here, right?”

Quake glared at him.

“Yeah, option of helping you shoot some of them wingers outta the sky, right?” White asked. “Well, I’ve come here to give you my formal reply!”

“White...” said Scroll.

“And?” Quake asked.

White walked next to the wheelbarrow and placed a hoof on it. Then, he pushed. All eyes were on the wheelbarrow as it rolled off the edge of the dock, splashing into the water.

Everypony watched in stark silence. Scroll was slack-jawed. White simply smiled smugly at the general, who glared back.

“You fucking little horner faggot fuck...” growled Quake.

“Scroll?” said White.

“Yes?”

“Run.”

___________

Barrel gave a flustered sigh. Once again, he’d mixed up an order and the customer was yelling at him. He wasn’t paying attention, though.

“Are you even listening to me?” asked the customer.

“Hey!” Tap butted in. “You got a problem, you talk to me. Got it?”

“Just wanted my fucking cider...”

“Fine,” said Tap as she went to the stack of bottles. “Barrel,” she said, turning to her brother, “could you go down to the cellar and bring up some bottles?”

“Bottles of what?”

“Bottles of anything. Just get some bottles.”

Barrel didn’t ask any further questions and simply headed for the cellar door. In a way, he was slightly relieved that he had been given a task that he couldn’t possibly screw up.

He lit a candle at the bottom of the stairs and looked over the rack of bottles. After coming to the conclusion that Tap just did this to get him out of the way, he sighed and walked past the shelves of booze to the wall. He pried off a loose plank of wood to uncover a small box. He opened the box, counting a small pile of copper coins. He added a few more coins to the chest: his little “rainy day” fund for the tavern. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, this could be something he could do to help.

He returned to the rack and put a few random assorted bottles onto a tray before ascending the steps again. He got to the top and saw Tap navigating the customers with drink orders.

“I got the bottles,” Barrel said as he set the tray down.

“Uh-huh,” said Tap.

“Sis?” he asked.

“Uh-huh?”

“Could I go head over to the mission house?”

“For how long?”

“I dunno. Just to see how everything’s going?”

“Okay. Just be back before the lunch rush,” said Tap.

Barrel nodded and headed out the door. He paused for a moment and sighed before resuming on the route to the mission house.

“Hey, fatass!”

Oh, fuck no...

“Hey, fatass!” Buzz repeated. “What’re you doing? Off to a gay orgy?”

“I don’t think they do that,” said Barrel. “I think they’re monora... mon... like married or something.”

“Yeah, you’re too fat to get laid.”

“Go away, Buzz.”

“Hey, you ever see Scroll suck–”

“Is there something in ‘fuck off’ that you don’t get?” Barrel snorted. “And you really seem like you got ‘gay’ on the brain, y’know that?”

Buzz backed up a little, looking at the glaring fatass - that last sentence hit a nerve with him. He then spotted a smaller colt he could pick on and ran off. Barrel ignored him and walked up to the doors of the mission house.

White was slumped in a seat, staring up at the ceiling. Scroll sat next to him, holding a cold water pack to his face with one hoof while his other hoof brushed aside the unicorn’s bangs.

“Please, White, you scared the bejeezers out of me,” said Scroll.

“Worth it...” said White. “Totally worth it.”

“What happened?” asked Barrel. The missionaries looked at him.

“Oh, hi,” said White.

“We had to run for our lives,” said Scroll. “Quake got mad.”

“He beat you up?” Barrel asked.

“What? Oh, no no no...” White said, laughing. “I just hit a low-hanging beam. Anyway, once Quake stops fuming we can go out and try some door-knocking. Scroll, why don’t you see how the bread’s coming and fix Clip some lunch?”

“Okay,” said Scroll. He hopped off the seat and went into the kitchen.

“Ain’t he the best?” asked White. “Good cook.”

“I’m still learning!” Scroll called.

“So modest.”

Barrel blinked. “So,” he said, “anything I can help with?”

“Hmm,” said White. “I’m not sure...” He saw Barrel, his head hanging low in self-pitying dejection. “Hey, you okay?”

“I keep screwing up,” said Barrel. “Like I can’t get anything right, and I’m always just... taking up space. I mean, it’s just sometimes I feel so... so useless, like I’m just getting in the way, and I just want to help...”

White set down the water bottle, revealing a black eye. “Hey, you’re a great guy. I mean, I can’t imagine what Tap’d do without you.”

“She probably wouldn’t be a whore.” A heavy silence set upon the room.

“Now...”

“It’s because of me,” said Barrel. “If she were on her own the tavern’d bring in enough money, but... with two of us, she has to, has to...”

White got up from the seat. “Barrel, it’s not your fault,” he said.

“Yes it is,” said Barrel. “If I could just... do something she wouldn’t have to go around...”

White needed to think of something and think of it fast. “Actually, Barrel,” he said, “I think I can think of something you could do...”

Barrel’s ears pricked up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” said White. “Any chance you could keep an eye on Clip while Scroll and I go out and try to feed the... unusually unhungry poor?”

“Well...” said Barrel, “I have to be back at the tavern for lunch, but I think I could bring Clip along?”

“Well, that’d be great,” said White.

“Oh, and Tap says you need to get over there and get the tree out.”

“Eheheeheheh...” White laughed nervously. “Right, we’ll do that.”

Scroll poked his head out the door. “White? Bread’s ready.”

“Good!” White exclaimed as he shot out of his seat. “Now let’s get it loaded into the wheelbarrow and...”

He stopped, having just remembered that they no longer had a wheelbarrow. “Well, I didn’t think that through.” He looked back at Scroll. “Well, we’ll fill up some saddlebags and take those.”

White got up and marched into the bunk room before emerging with several saddlebags. “Okay, you get the bread, I’ll get the books!”

White tossed some of the saddlebags to Scroll, where they draped over his head. Scroll retreated into the kitchen. White proceeded to stuff his own saddlebags with books, before draping them over his back. He let out a soft ‘oof’ upon the realization that bags filled with books were actually quite heavy. Scroll emerged with his saddlebags bulging with loaves of bread. Clip followed out of the kitchen as well.

“Alright, Clip,” said White, “Scroll and I are gonna go do some mission work. Brother Barrel here’s gonna look after you, okay?”

“Okay,” said Clip. Barrel tried to smile and appear friendly.

“And Barrel?” said White. Barrel looked at him. “I’d just like to tell you that you’re a great friend. Remember that.” He turned back to Scroll. “Alright, let’s go.”

Barrel and Clip looked at each other.

“Do you like checkers?” asked Clip.

___________

“You what?” asked Tap.

“I just agreed to look after Clip while the missionaries are doing stuff,” said Barrel. “I mean, he isn’t gonna be a problem, is he?”

Tap peered down at the little pink colt looking up at her. “Well...” She really didn’t like that Barrel had basically just volunteered both of them for foal-sitting duty, but on the other hoof... “Aw, alright.” She rubbed the colt’s head. “But if he needs food, it’s on those two.”

“I already had lunch,” said Clip.

“Whaddya know, those two can do something right,” said Tap. She turned to a customer, passing a bottle to him. “Barrel, could you bring up that cask of cider?”

“Alright,” said Barrel.

“Cider?” asked Clip. “I love cider!”

“Iiiiiii don’t think that White and Scroll would approve of you drinking this stuff,” Tap laughed. “Wouldn’t it be funny to see them get mad?” she wondered out loud. “Guys like that are either really funny or really scary when they get angry.”

“Mister Quake gets mad a lot...” said Clip. “So does everypony else.”

“When the general gets mad, the roof shakes,” said Tap. “When he just cusses at you that means he’s in a good mood.”

The door swung open.

“Give me a fucking drink or I’ll bash someone’s head in,” snorted the general.

“See?” asked Tap. “Good mood.”

The general made a beeline for the counter, shoving one stallion off of his stool and sitting down on it.

“Get me a fucking whiskey,” said the general.

“What’s the matter today?” asked Tap. “Did the horner blind you with the glare from his teeth?”

“Bad word!” Clip exclaimed. The general stared at him.

Tap took a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter and placed it in front of the general.

“My little brother is taking care of their...” Tap tried to explain. “Their kid.”

“Forget it,” said Quake, taking the whiskey. “I don’t want to fucking think about those two faggots right now.”

Tap left the counter to tend to an order from the other side of the room. Barrel nervously walked around behind the counter, trying to take care of drink orders while avoiding the general’s scrutiny. Quake, however, was too preoccupied with his drink and leering at Tap to give a fuck about Barrel.

Barrel watched the general nervously. “Uhh...” he said as he saw the general chugging down whiskey. “I don’t think that’s good for you...r liver.”

“Fuck your liver.”

“Actually it seems a bit more like fuck your liver...”

Clip, meanwhile, had clasped his hooves over his ears in an effort to not hear the bad words.

Quake looked over Barrel. “‘Bangable’ doesn’t really run in the family, does it?”

Tap returned to the counter and began sorting and pouring drinks. “Barrel,” she said, “could you fetch some more beer from the cellar?”

Barrel nodded and walked off.

“Must be hard, keeping a tavern running and holding up your brother.”

“We manage.”

“The wingers are coming,” said Quake. “They’ll attack tomorrow.” He turned to the rest of the bar. “You hear that? You’d all better get a gun or get out of the way when they hit.”

Some ponies promptly cleared out. Others were surprisingly lax, or at least wanted to finish their drinks before running to their respective basements.

“Oh, fun,” Tap said sarcastically. “I guess this means ‘in case I die’ sex?”

“I don’t die.”

“I was talking about your soldiers.”

Quake snorted. His eyes, however, fell on the locket around her neck.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Huh?” Tap asked. “Oh, it’s just something one of the missionaries gave me. It was a present for that Hearth’s Warming thing.”

Quake, having finished off the whiskey, slammed the bottle onto the counter, shattering it. Clip flinched in alarm.

“Sorry,” grunted Quake. “Fighting wingers is fun. ‘Specially when you break their wings. They start shitting themselves when that happens. Gimme a beer.”

Tap complied with the order as Quake looked at the tree and the decorations. Clip, meanwhile, squirmed nervously in his seat. The general was a big scary dirt, after all. He smelled bad, too.

“So this thing,” he said. “I help myself to one of their shipments as usual, and what is it? Toys. Fucking toys.”

“I got a robot!” Clip piped.

“I don’t think they got any of those...” said Tap. “I don’t think they were really able to give anything away. Even if the foals in town didn’t already openly mock them, White being accused of being a foal molester–”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” said Quake as he took a swig of beer.

“Oh, I would,” said Tap. “I mean, White’s obviously a virgin. At least...” She thought back to how she woke up that morning. “I think. He was then, anyway, that’s what’s important.”

Clip, unable to follow the conersation, had hopped down from the stool. He walked around the tavern, looking at the various dirt ponies who ignored him. He looked at the Hearth Warming decorations, wondering why in the world Tap would want to take them down. They were nice and pretty and the Brothers had worked hard on them.

Barrel emerged from the cellar with a hogshead on his back. “Is this enough?” he asked.

“Yes, Barrel,” said Tap.

“Big keg there,” said Quake. “How much did you water it down?”

“You see right through all the tricks, don’t you?” asked Tap.

“You bet your ass I do,” said Quake. “That’s why you have to learn a whole lot of other ‘tricks.’”

“Uhhhhhhhh...” said Barrel. That had to set some sort of record as the worst innuendo he’d heard in his life.

Tap took a rag and wiped the broken glass from the whiskey bottle off the counter.

“Barrel, make sure everything gets taken down to the cellar,” she said.

“Why?” asked Barrel.

“There’s going to be an attack tomorrow.”

Barrel stood there for a minute before turning to go up the stairs. Quake continued drinking his beer when the door opened.

“We’re here!” called Brother Scroll’s voice. “Came to help with the OH NO WE’RE SORRY!”

Scroll stared at the general, who looked at them with a look of dismissive disinterest.

White walked up behind Scroll and bumped into him. The unicorn, it so happened, now sported a second black eye. The general got out of his seat and brushed past them, but not without violently shoving the unicorn aside.

“Oof!” said White as he hit the floor. “Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

“The fuck happened to you?” asked Tap as she swept the broken glass into the garbage bin.

“Hit a beam,” said White.

“Twice?”

“Uh-huh,” said Scroll. “It was kinda awkward the second time...”

“Anyway,” said White, “we wanted to help you clean up the...”

He spotted Clip, who was standing on a table in the middle of some card players, staring down a very annoyed-looking earth pony.

“Cliiiiip!” said White, walking up to the group. “Sorry about that...” he apologized to the card players. “He likes climbing things.”

Scroll looked at the tree. “Y’know,” he said, “when you get things out you never think about putting them away.”

“Hindsight’s a bitch, ain’t it?” asked Tap.

“Uhh, something like that,” said Scroll as he set down one of his saddlebags.

White had walked up to the tree and began to take down the ornaments, floating them into the saddlebags. The other ponies were still clearing out, leaving only the card players and the usual unconscious bum.

“Did you enjoy the party?” Scroll asked.

“Yeah,” said Tap with a soft grin, “the show was nice.”

“Umm...” Scroll blushed. “Hey, where is everypony?”

There was a bang from upstairs. The few ponies remaining all looked up.

“What the...” said Scroll.

“Barrel?” Tap asked. “Barrel!” She bolted for the stairs, with Clip and the missionaries in pursuit.

Tap ran to Barrel’s room and threw the door open. Barrel was lying on the floor, clenching his jaw. A smoking gun lay next to him, and the window was open with a bottle sitting on the sill.

“What happened?” asked White as the two missionaries failed to get through the doorway at the same time. Clip merely hopped over their backs.

White looked down at the floor and saw the gun.

“You...” he grunted as he managed to finally get through the doorway.

“I tried to shoot the bottle...” said Barrel. “I think I broke a tooth.”

“Barrel,” said Tap, “what were you doing?”

White sat in front of Barrel.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

Barrel sheepishly sat up. “Well, there’s an attack coming and I wanted to...” Seeing an angry glint in White’s eyes, he shut up and opened his mouth. The fact that White had two black eyes served to make him appear somewhat unsettling.

“Barrel...” mumbled White. His horn lit up, lifting the broken tooth fragment off of the floor. “Barrel, Barrel, Barrel... We don’t do that.”

There was a glint of light as he mended the tooth. White got up and walked over to the gun. “No, no, no no no no no no no no no no no no no no NO! We don’t do that,” he repeated, lifting the gun into the air. “We don’t, we don’t use these!” He spat, throwing the gun out the window.

“That was mine...” said Tap.

White took a deep breath. “You said there’s an attack coming?”

“Tomorrow,” said Tap. “Quake told me.”

“Okay, we’re gonna have to round up everyone,” said White. “Get everypony we can into the mission house.”

“It’ll be all crowded again?” asked Clip.

“Think of it...” said Scroll, “as more of a party.”

“Because those always go well,” said Tap.

“Well, you’ll come, right?” asked Scroll.

Tap laughed. “Well, sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get my gun.”

She turned to leave the room, but she saw something that stopped her. She noticed Scroll’s gaze, which was on his companion. White was standing at the window, glaring outside.

“Hey,” she said, “you okay?”

White slowly turned. Scroll bit his lip - the bruises on White’s eyes made his face seem sunken and gaunt.

“White?” Scroll asked.

“Scroll,” said White, “you get Clip back to the mission house quickly. I’ll meet up with you and we’ll try to round up anypony we can.”

“Got it,” said Scroll. “C’mon.”

“Okay!” said Clip. “Will we be baking pies again?”

“You bet!” said Scroll as the two left.

“I’ll help,” said Barrel, following the two.

Tap watched as the three left, before turning back to White. “I dunno how much luck you’ll have. They probably all still think you’re a foal-fiddler.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” said White quietly. “All that matters is what’s right.” He clenched his eyes shut. “And I know what’s right, and I’ll do it. And I’ll always do it.”

Tap looked at that strange, stupid white unicorn standing on the verge of tears. She remembered her gun out in the street below and briefly wondered if somepony had stolen it. Well, the general might give her another for the right price. Still, she had to look at the unicorn. After all that steadfast confidence, it seemed like he was desperately clinging to something.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” she asked. “I guess that’s what I like about you two. But y’know, I can’t help but feel that by the end of your little mission you’re gonna have a whooooooole lotta regrets.”

White opened his eyes. “Regrets?” he asked. “If I can tell myself in full honesty that I did everything I possibly could, that I didn’t stray from my mission and that I managed to wring some true good out of my time here... Well, I nearly gave up once. I won’t do that again. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror, or look Scroll in the eye again if I did that. I made a promise, Tap. A promise...”

He turned and headed out the door. Tap watched as he left, and Scroll’s voice drifted in through the open window, imploring anypony who would listen to come to the mission house to wait out the storm.

They wouldn’t listen.

---

Chapter 20

Just what the fuck were you thinking? What, you thought it’d be fun if you ran off from the unit to beat up some snivelling little dirt? What made you think that piece of shit was even worth your time? Do you think you’re a tough guy, private? Do you think you’re enough of a hotshot to disobey orders? You were supposed to stay in my ranks, and what do you do?

You are not in this to have fun. You’re here to do what I say and kill dirt ponies, and you can’t even do that. Just what kind of miserable failure are you? How the fuck did you even live this long?

You’re a fucking waste as a soldier, you know that, private? Until you shape up, you know what you’re gonna be doing? You’re gonna do tornado duty!

Eagle couldn’t think of anything but General Storm’s words. He stood at the edge of the clouds, lethargically listening to the words coming from his new superior.

“Well, well,” said his captain, a cold steel blue stallion, “looks like you got yourself a new assignment, didn’t ya?” The captain watched Eagle. He had a scar running over his left eye that made him look like he was leering at something. “Not much to say, then?” he asked. “Embarrassed? You’d always made fun of Captain Tempest and his ponies, didn’t you? One notch above the non-fliers. Like we were flushing all the shit down the toilet?” He laughed. “Not so funny anymore, is it?”

Eagle took a nervous breath.

“Well, that’s okay. All of us have. Hell, I couldn’t get through the day if I couldn’t laugh at myself. So, what’s your name, private?”

“Eagle… sir,” he said, choking down his pride.

“Anything in particular got you saddled with our lot?”

“I, uh,” said Eagle, “I disobeyed orders. Went after a little chickenshit civvie.”

“Well, ain’t that a shame?” asked Tempest. “I’ll be honest with you: tornado duty isn’t nice, and it isn’t exciting. It’s a dangerous and menial job we do, but we do it, because it’s our job.”

“Understood, sir.”

“And you know something else, Private Eagle?”

Eagle flicked his ear.

“You’re probably feeling pretty damn low right now, aren’t you? Don’t like being on the level of the tornado cannon fodder. And you’re probably a little scared, too, aren’t ya?”

Eagle nodded.

“Well, being in here takes a lot of guts,” said Tempest. “You’re doing a job that’s very dangerous and offers you no rewards, except maybe a way out if you’re lucky. But you’re going to do that, aren’t you?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“I suppose not,” said the captain. “You’re in some deep shit. We all are. But we can make it work, and we can survive. Just keep your head up and keep flying. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

___________

Eagle stood on the darkened clouds, in line with the other pegasi on tornado duty. All around on the Stormcloud, the pegasi were preparing for the attack. The last time this had happened, Eagle was excited. Now, however, he had a sinking pit in his stomach, not helped by the pegasus in front of him blathering:

“I know that those of you on tornado duty feel like you’re the butt of a big joke. This is not true. Your task is just as important as everypony else’s, and they’re all valuable.”

Shut up, Sky, I don’t care, he thought. The other soldiers next to him fidgeted or just stared down at the clouds. One pony next to him mumbled something disparaging. Eagle stifled a chuckle – they didn’t buy Brother Sky’s spiel any more than he did.

Crashes and bangs filled the air. Rows of pegasus soldiers stomped on the clouds, crashing lightning down onto the town below. Fainter bangs came from below.

Suddenly, the surface of the cloud was broken as cannonballs burst through. The ponies scrambled in panic, trying to avoid them.

“Hold your positions!” barked the general. A cannonball popped up in front of her and she batted it down with her hoof. She surveyed her soldiers with a look of disgust. Eagle knew that if there was one thing General Storm hated, it was a coward.

The soldiers tried to hold their positions, but they still fidgeted.

“I can’t hear any thunder!” called the general. “I want you to drown out their pussy cannonballs with the storm!”

The crashes of lightning and thunder resumed. The general approached the line of hapless tornado ponies. She sneered at the captain.

“Well,” she said, “I trust you can keep this line of pansies working? Or is that too much to ask from you?”

Tempest’s expression did not flinch. “We can do our job, sir. I think I’ve demonstrated that.”

“You’d better,” said Storm. She turned and went to another group of soldiers that were preparing to descend. Captain Tempest, meanwhile, turned to the ponies under his command.

“Alright, boys!” called Captain Tempest. “Time for us to get ready! Remember your jobs and look out for each other!”

___________

Brother White sat in the main room. It was dark, illuminated only by candles. Nopony had come save for Tap and Barrel. It was just the five of them in the mission house, there to wait out the storm.

The sounds of thunder and cannons roared outside, blending together in an indistinguishable cacophony. White sighed and stood up, walking into the kitchen.

Tap, Barrel, and Clip were seated around the table, while Scroll stood at the stove wearing a poofy chef’s hat. He hummed to himself as he slaved over a pot of boiling potato something.

“So,” said White, “how is everything?”

“Kinda boring,” said Barrel.

“Um...” said White, unsure of how to take that.

“Our house is gonna get destroyed again,” said Tap. “I know it is.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be boring,” said White, “we can entertain ourselves!”

“Can we play games?” asked Clip.

“We sure can!” said Scroll. “The Book of Friendship has all kinds of things you can do in a rainstorm.” He turned around, beaming. “Like cooking!”

“And we can play games and sing songs!” suggested White.

There was a particularly loud crash outside, which caused Clip to jump onto the table and Barrel to let out a gasp. Everypony in the room was still for a while before they decided they were still safe. Barrel took a few breaths.

“When I was little,” said Barrel, “some other foals would sit on the roof and dump water on me.” He laughed at himself. “I’d think it was rain and start panicking.”

“Rain’s nothing to panic about,” said White. “Well... not in Equestria, anyway.”

“Do you ever worry about anything in Equestria?” asked Tap.

“Well, yeah,” said White, “I mean, sometimes we worry about being late, or upsetting someone, or losing, or getting hit by a wagon... just not rain. Unless there’s a lot of it. But we try to have a healthy amount of rain. It’s just a necessary part of life. We’ve got songs about it.”

“Lots of songs,” said Scroll.

“Oh, here we go...” muttered Tap.

There was a deafening crash of thunder from outside, making all the ponies look up at the ceiling in worry. White took a deep breath and began to sing.

“We will not mind the rain

Although the wind may blow

For rain, it washes clean the earth

And makes the good things grow.”

___________

Eagle and the pegasi on tornado duty stood in a wide circle on the Stormcloud. Most of the other soldiers present had descended beneath the clouds, though there were still a few lightning-strikers sending bolts down to the earth ponies.

The earth ponies, however, were still firing their cannons into the sky. An iron ball shot through the cloud, tearing off the head of the pony in front of Eagle.

“Fuck!” Eagle cried out in fright.

“Hold your positions!” called Tempest. “Get ready to fly!”

Eagle and the other pegasi spread their wings.

“Now!” called the captain. The pegasi took off flying. They all stayed on the same level, flying in a circle, slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed. Soon enough the whirring of the wind was able to drown out the roar of thunder and cannonfire.

“Now move in!” the captain ordered. The pegasi tightened their circle, moving in and compacting the swirling air.

“Now, move down!”

The soldiers began to spread vertically, descending beneath the clouds. The whirling air formed a violently churning funnel, touching down to the ground. The tornado was now in place, and the pegasus soldiers just needed to keep it going as long as they could. At first it was simple – they just needed to keep flying. However...

“Incoming!” called one of the soldiers.

Eagle’s eyes widened as he looked below. The buildings were splintering against the force of the winds, but now the tornado was carrying the debris up to them.

___________

“Alright, soup’s on!” said Scroll as he set plates of potatoes in front of each of the ponies at the table.

“It doesn’t look like soup...” said Clip.

“It’s an expression,” said Tap.

“Ohh...” said Clip.

“Thought I’d try something with sea salt,” said Scroll. “That just makes it sound more exotic – ‘sea salt.’”

“What, you boil the sea water?” asked Barrel. “We do that sometimes if we run out of salt rations.”

“Yeah, I–” Scroll stopped.

“You what?” asked White.

“White, how do I get sea salt?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“How do I get sea salt?” Scroll asked, punctuating the last words with a shake of his plate.

“By...” White said, not understanding what Scroll was getting at, “boiling sea water?”

Tap sighed. “Can I have my potatoes now, or are you going to tell us how you peeled them?”

“Nononononono,” said Scroll. “I mean, I can boil the water to get the salt, so I can...” he walked off. “One moment! I need pipes!”

“I want my potatoes...”

Barrel watched Scroll as he left the kitchen. “Pipes? What’s he need those for?”

“Science, I think,” said White.

There was a sound of clanking and shuffling from the adjacent room. White and Tap decided they wanted to see what he was up to – Tap also wanted her potatoes – and followed him into the main room. They found that Scroll had thrown open the supply cupboard and was examining several lengths of tube.

“Did I miss something?” asked Tap.

“I got an incredible idea,” said Scroll. He turned to the other two. “Okay, so I can boil water to get the salt. Sooo, why not boil the water... to get the water? Like, I boil it, then condense the steam so that we have fresh water?”

White’s face lit up. “That’s a great idea, Scroll!”

“Huh,” said Tap. “So, what, you get all the steam into a tube, and...”

“Yeah!” said Scroll. “We just boil the water on a stove, and then we put the steam through a tube and and then when it cools down we have water!”

“Aaaaand how much water will you get with that?” asked Tap.

“Well...” Scroll’s smile twitched a little. “We just need a big bucket and some time. And maybe another stove.”

___________

Eagle very quickly realized why tornado duty was an awful job. In addition to being nearly brainless, menial work, there was the risk that even doing the job right could have fatal results. He dipped under a beam flying his way, weaving in and out between the debris.

As houses shattered against the wind, the beams, doors, bedframes, tables, chairs, utensils, and nick-knacks contained therein became obstacles for the pegasi to dodge. Eagle narrowly managed to avoid being impaled on a wooden beam.

The other ponies around him attempted to do the same, with various levels of success. One soldier nimbly ran across a broken rooftop. Another had an anvil smash his face in.

Eagle’s face was stiff in fear. When he first went down to fight he had been excited. Now he was locked in a circle of death. He looked up and saw Captain Tempest. Tempest didn’t display any signs of fear, and rather than avoiding the flying hazards, he was heading right for them.

Eagle had no idea what he was up to at first. He’s got to be an idiot, he thought, maybe that’s why he’s stuck here. But he saw that the captain was bucking the rubble off to the sides of the vortex. Eagle had to think for a moment before he realized what the captain was doing: he was getting the debris ejected from the tornado so that it wouldn’t hurt the pegasi inside.

Something stirred in that brain of his, and Eagle decided that he’d try to do it, too. Unfortunately, when he looked in front of him he found a wardrobe hurling towards him. The wardrobe’s doors flapped open and Eagle was swallowed up before he had a chance to blink.

___________

The missionaries had conspired to do improvisation to pass the time. Clip and the guests were unfamiliar with the activity, so the Brothers had to demonstrate.

The premise: Brother White is the tenant in an apartment. Brother Scroll is the landlord, and he is knocking on the door.

“Hey,” said Brother Scroll, “the rent’s overdue.”

“Eheheheheh...” Brother White chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just a little behind on the payment...”

“And how much more behind are you gonna get?” Scroll asked.

“Well, it’s just gonna be a while, but I’ll pay, I swear...”

“Swearing isn’t good enough!” said Scroll. “The rent is due. You either give me the money or you get out! Well...” he paused, “maybe if you can devise some other method of payment I could reconsider...”

Clip, Barrel, and Tap watched, with varying expressions. Clip was nervously chewing on his hooves, anxiously awaiting to see what would happen next. Will White be able to pay the rent? he wondered.

Barrel grimaced and shifted nervously in his seat. I’m not sure what I’m watching, and I don’t think I like it...

Tap’s face, however, was plastered with an eager grin. Go ooooooonn...

There was a loud crash as a cannonball smashed through the room, interrupting the Brothers’ terrible roleplay. All five ponies jumped at the crash.

White looked at the cannonball and the crater it made in the floor. “Well,” he said, “we’ll have to fix that.” He stuck his hoof under the hole, feeling the rain as it fell. “On the other hoof, this also means natural lighting...” he muttered, “That’s one way of looking at it.”

Tap rolled her eyes.

The ground shook, causing the five ponies to stumble. There was an unsettling creaking sound from ceiling, now that the cannonball had knocked a hole in it.

“I say we fix it,” said Scroll.

“Yeah...” muttered White.

___________

Eagle was cramped inside a flying wardrobe, tumbling over and over. Eagle cussed, trying to right himself even as he kept hitting his head on the walls. After fumbling in the dark, he finally managed to feel for the doors. He forced them open, pushing against the wind. He muttered to himself, reading to fly back out, when he heard a dull thunk. He looked to the right and found a metal disc embedded in the edge of the door. He looked up and saw more discs flying through the air as the pegasi tried to dodge them.

Eagle stayed sitting in the wardrobe, hesitant to emerge. He watched in disgust as one disc slashed the neck of a soldier, who struggled to put his hooves to his neck in a vain attempt to stop the gushing of blood. He saw another disc sever the foreleg of another soldier. The dead hung eerily in the air, pulled only by the wind.

“Private!” he heard a voice call. “This is no time to play hide-and-seek!”

Eagle looked up and saw Captain Tempest. “Sorry, sir!” he responded.

“We need to keep flying!” Captain Tempest swung an iron-shoed hoof, knocking away one of the discs. “If we don’t keep flying then the tornado’ll stop!”

Eagle opened his mouth to object, but another disc came and severed Tempest’s wing at the joint.

“Argh!” cried the captain as he fell to join Eagle in the wardrobe. “Fuck...” he looked at the stub. “Well, there the fuck I go.”

“Shit...” said Eagle. “Oh, shit shit shit.”

“Don’t stand there blubbering, get out there and fly!”

Eagle was too startled to argue and bolted back out into the tornado. There were less pegasi – some had been killed or maimed by the discs and rubble, while others had bailed. Eagle struggled to keep the wind going fast enough to sustain the tornado. His fright made him quicker at avoiding the deadly obstacles.

However, he saw that the wardrobe was drifting uncomfortably away. He realized that if it kept going, it’d soon be thrown from the tornado with the captain still inside. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Eagle flew back to the closet, pushing it back into the tornado, much to the consternation of its occupant.

“Hey! What are you doing?” the captain demanded to know. “You need to keep the tornado going!”

Eagle didn’t say anything – for some reason, he just didn’t want the captain to get killed. However, there was a piercing pain as a disc slashed his side. He instinctively grabbed onto the wardrobe pulled his wings to his side, trying to stem the flow of blood. He clenched his eyes shut, holding on for dear life as his blood dampened his wing.

Oh, fuck, he thought, I’m in a tornado, and I’m gonna die... He felt a hoof on his.

“Can you still hold on?” asked the captain.

Eagle paused. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Then take my hoof. That’s an order.”

Eagle gripped the Captain’s hoof. Before he could wonder what the captain was going to do, he found himself falling through the air. Captain Tempest had jumped from the tornado, beating his one good wing.

“What are you doing?!” Eagle cried.

“Getting us out of here!”

Miraculously, the captain managed to beat his one wing enough to break through the wall of the tornado. However, he couldn’t properly fly with only one wing, and they began to fall. Tempest, however, spread his wing and it managed to catch the air, allowing them to slowly fall, spinning in the air like a leaf.

They fell down into an alley with a thud. Eagle sprawled on the ground, but Tempest got to his feet and pulled a pistol out of his holster. The alley was littered with garbage and rubble, ranging from broken wagons to chunks of destroyed buildings. The captain remained vigilant and alert.

“Get your gun out,” said the captain. “Can you walk?”

Eagle scrambled to his feet. All he could think was how miserable it was to be in this filthy dirt pony town with a gaping wound at his side. He followed the captain’s lead and took out his own gun, just a simple pistol that they gave to the ponies on tornado duty. He looked up at the tornado, which was beginning to sputter away. He looked back at the wound on his side – it was still bleeding, but it didn’t seem to be as deep as he had first thought.

“I think so, sir,” said the private.

“Well, we have to get moving. We’re not out yet. There’s still a battle going on.”

They headed down the alleyway, their guns drawn. Captain Tempest was fully alert, as though completely unfazed at the loss of a wing. Eagle’s will was not quite as strong, but he had to wonder what would happen to the captain if they survived this. Would he be welcome back on the cloud?

“Over here!” shouted a voice. “Two of them!”

Eagle and Tempest turned and found an earth pony soldier standing in a doorway readying his gun. Tempest immediately reacted and fired two shots into the soldier’s heart, killing him.

There was a sound of shouting from inside.

“They found us,” said Tempest, preparing his gun. Eagle did the same. Eagle found that his initial fear was subsiding into a different feeling – excitement.

The sounds of hoofsteps signalled the arrival of more troops. Both of the pegasi backed up behind some scattered debris – Tempest behind a broken fruit stand, Eagle behind a piece of roof – keeping their guns trained on the doorway. One soldier came into the doorway, and both ponies opened fire, killing him almost instantly. The next soldier was more intelligent. He waited behind the door and only stuck his head out to shoot at Eagle. Eagle ducked behind his cover as the bullet lodged itself in the wood, while Tempest returned fire. The soldier ducked out of the way as another replaced him and opened fire.

Tempest didn’t move from his spot. He stood firm, shooting when he saw an earth pony soldier stick his head out of the doorway. Eagle stuck his head out from cover and fired, miraculously hitting one of the enemy soldiers in the jaw. The soldier let out a scream of pain and dropped the gun before disappearing behind the door. The other soldier replaced him, opening fire on Eagle. The bullet grazed his shoulder and he dropped back behind his cover again. Tempest followed up with one more shot and hit the enemy soldier between the eyes.

Eagle and Tempest sat there behind the cover, waiting. The earth pony soldiers, however, seemed to have been neutralized, and the only sounds of battle were far away from them. Cautiously, Eagle reloaded his revolver and stepped out from behind his cover. He slowly approached the doorway before peering inside. There were the dead bodies of the soldiers, along with one who was still alive. The wounded soldier was lying on the floor, clutching at his muzzle and whimpering. Eagle smiled.

“Yeah, you like that, didn’t you?” he asked. “See how you like this!” He kicked at the soldier’s stomach, making him cringe and try to crawl away. “Come on, you little bitch!” He kicked again.

Eagle stood there, watching the wounded soldier squirm. “Oh, fuck this...” he grumbled. He bent down to pick up his gun, before firing a shot into the soldier’s head, killing him. He stood there, looking at the dead bodies. He heard the cannons and thunder in the distance and looked around. No more soldiers. Then he noticed that Tempest wasn’t with him.

He ran back outside and saw that Captain Tempest was still there. He was standing, but he was slowly walking over to the wall, his legs shaking. Eagle slowly approached him before he saw that Tempest’s chest had three bulletholes and was caked in blood. The captain leaned against the wall, sighed, and slowly slumped to the floor.

“Woah, woah!” said Eagle, running up to him.

“Least it wasn’t tornado duty that killed me,” said the captain. “Well, guess it helped. Lost my wing. A soldier isn’t much good if he’s missing a wing, now, is he?”

“Dude, that was badass.”

Captain Tempest looked back up at Eagle.

“Not like the big wind toilet, huh? Not laughing anymore?”

“It’s a lot less funny now.”

“That’s what they all say. You know what my greatest ambition was?” The captain smiled. “To get a blowjob from the general.”

Eagle laughed. “Same here.”

“Well, get out of here and maybe you’ll get it.”

“But...”

“Yeah, I’m kinda dead,” said the captain, laying his head down. Eagle stood there, unsure of what to do. “That’s an order.”

Eagle ran off, leaving his captain in the mud. Captain Tempest looked up at the the sky and thought to himself how surprisingly nice the rain felt.

___________

Once the storm had subsided and the pegasus army had left, Tap and Barrel left in a hurry to find that their tavern had, once again, been destroyed.

“The sign’s alright, though,” said Barrel, shuffling through a few planks until he found one that had Tap’s written on it in big letters.

White and Scroll surveyed the wreckage. Yet again, homes were left in shambles, ponies were dead, and the missionaries couldn’t do anything about it.

“This is awful...” said White.

“I think that tornado really did a number on the town,” said Scroll.

“Yeah...” murmured White. “The tornadoes...” His mind went back to the disc launcher that he had so haughtily dumped off of the edge of the dock.

“I’m just suggesting that maybe if you two butt-munchers really want to help, then here’s something you can do. So the next time the wingers come here, and they send down a tornado, then use this. Who knows, maybe you two useless fucking fags could save a few of our lives.”

He saw the general making his rounds through the town. He watched, and he realized that he must have looked like he was staring, because Quake stopped and glared at him.

“Well?” asked General Quake. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I-uh...” White stammered. “It’s nothing. I just need to go...”

“White?” asked Scroll. “Are you okay?”

“I-I...” White said. “I don’t know... I need to think about something.” He took a breath. “I’m gonna go back to the mission house and take care of Clip. You stay here and see if Tap and Barrel need any help.”

Scroll watched in confusion as White slowly trudged back up the road to the mission house. Scroll, dutiful friend that he aspired to be, followed.

“White, wait, if there’s something you nee–”

“Scroll, I don’t need anything!” White snapped. Scroll stopped dead in his tracks. “I... I’m sorry, I need to be alone.” He turned and galloped back to the mission house as quickly as he could, leaving Scroll alone and bewildered.

---

Chapter 21

“White?” asked Scroll, rapping his hoof against the bathroom door. “Are you gonna be done soon?”

“No!” called White. “I need to brush my teeth. Then I need to brush my mane. And my coat.”

“Well, I could help with–”

“No, just go ahead without me, I’ll catch up.”

Scroll paused at the door before walking into the kitchen, where he had a large contraption built on the stove. There was a metal cauldron on top of the stove, and the cauldron was sealed off with a large tube that went into a barrel.

Clip was busy examining it. “So, what’s it do?”

“Well,” said Scroll, adjusting his glasses, “we put the sea water in the cauldron here. Then we turn on the stove, which will heat up the water and make it evaporate. The steam will then travel...” He followed the length of pipe with his hoof to the barrel. “...into here, where we can cool it. If it works, then we’ve got fresh, drinkable water.”

“Coooool,” said Clip.

“Yeah, it is,” said Scroll, smiling.

Scroll walked back into the main room and looked at the dent in the floor. The sun was streaming through the hole in the ceiling left by the cannonball. Scroll wondered what they’d do about it. They only really had to worry about rain during a pegasus attack, but it was still unsightly. Still, there were bigger concerns at the moment.

“Whiiiiite?” Scroll called.

“I’m busy!” White called back.

“Alright,” Scroll sighed. “Clip, tell White that I headed for Tap’s. If I’ve left there by the time he gets out, I’ll tell her and she can tell him.” Scroll stopped and blinked, considering whether or not that sentence made any sense.

Scroll trotted out the door. Just like after the last attack, the ponies of Earthquake Island were clearing their dead and rebuilding their homes. They seemed to carry this out wordlessly.

Scroll first made his way to what had been Tap and Barrel’s tavern. He was surprised, however, to find that Tap was lounging in a seat with a bottle in her mouth, watching as several soldiers had set to work rebuilding it.

“And I want a balcony this time,” called Tap.

“Hi,” said Scroll.

“Hey,” said Tap.

“Well, I was gonna come ask if you needed any help, buuuut...”

“Yeah,” said Tap. “Soldiers didn’t come at me with ‘in case I die’ sex, but now that the fight’s over they want ‘glad I’m alive’ sex. Well, I mean to get my body’s worth.”

Scroll stood there, processing what he just heard. “Uhh...”

Tap looked at him. “Hey, where’s White? Shouldn’t he be with you?”

“Well, he’s in the bathroom,” said Scroll. “Been in there for a while. Says he needs to do his mane. And coat. And stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” said Tap. “Yeah. When a guy spends that long in the bathroom he’s either sick, gay, crying, or masturbating.”

“Umm...”

Tap turned her head and looked at him. His face had turned red again.

“So, whaddya want?” she asked.

“Well, uh...” Scroll hemmed and hawed, “I was gonna ask if you needed help rebuilding your tavern, but you seem to be all set there... where’s Barrel?”

“Down by the docks,” said Tap. “He’s there for another shipment of supplies. Good timing. Also something about your books.”

“My... my books?” Scroll asked.

“Yeah,” said Tap.

Scroll hopped up and down on the ground, much to the barely-concealed confusion of Tap.

“Oh! If White comes here, tell him I went for the docks and then back to the mission house!” called Scroll, galloping as fast as he could for the docks.

Tap sat up in her seat, looking after him. She looked back at the soldiers. “Remember, balcony!” she called, before getting up to go after Scroll.

___________

“I swear, Scroll,” said Tap as she and Scroll pushed the crate through the doors of the mission house, “I’ve never seen you this excited.”

Scroll slowly cracked open the lid of the crate. He peered inside, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Ahhhh...” he said. “My books.”

“You really, really like those books, huh?” said Tap.

“I’m so excited!” Scroll said, hoofing through the volumes. “This library project is the best idea I’ve ever had.” He picked up one book, titled The Steadfast. “I love these books. Now I get to share them with everypony. We can build some bookshelves and put all our books there, and then maybe we can write back to the Fraternity and they’ll send more books.”

“You really are into this idea, aren’t you?” She looked around the room while Scroll indulged himself in his foalhood literature. She noticed one book tucked away in the corner of the room, sloppily hidden. She gently nudged it out of its hiding place, opened it, and began to read...

“Oh my,” said Tap.

“Huh?” Scroll asked, looking at her.

“Scroll, I had no idea...” Tap smirked, looking at Scroll, whose face had flushed red.

“Y-you...”

“Gotta say, didn’t expect it,” Tap laughed. “My, my...”

“O-oh...” Scroll stammered. “Please promise you won’t tell White.”

“Hmm...” said Tap, pretending to think about it as Scroll squirmed. “Oh, don’t be silly, Scroll, your little secret’s safe with me.” Scroll let out a relieved sigh. “That is...”

“That is what?” Scroll asked, tensing up again.

Tap closed the book. “I think I’d like to borrow it. I think that’d keep ol’ White from finding it.” She chuckled. “Consider me your library’s first customer.”

“Umm...”

Tap took the book in her mouth and walked towards the door, humming to herself. As she passed Scroll, she flicked her tail up against his chest and smirked as his face turned red.

Brother White stepped out of the bathroom to find at red-faced Scroll sitting down and looking bashfully at the mare merrily trotting out of the mission house.

“Okay...” sighed Brother White. His face wasn’t decorated with his customary grin, and despite all the time he had spent in the bathroom his mane was still a mess. “So we...”

“We got the books,” said Scroll. “And I think we can test my water thing. I need a name for it.”

“Uh-huh...” said White, heading into the room. “Right, so we got more books...”

“White?”

“What?” White asked. He looked at Scroll, who was eyeing him with an uneasy look.

“Are you okay?” Scroll asked. “You seem kinda...”

“I’m fine!” said White. “Look, why don’t you just, go and...”

“I can...” said Scroll, thinking. “I can go get some seawater.”

“Right,” said Scroll. He grabbed a bucket by the wall and headed for the door. Before he walked out, however, he looked at White.  He was worried about his friend, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Sighing, the bespectacled pony trotted out the door for the peer.

White was left alone in the mission house, save for Clip, who was still munching on something in the kitchen. He looked over in the corner of the room where yet another thing haunted him: Monarch’s teleporter.

He slowly walked over to it and picked it up. It was a small device – smooth, clean, elegant, just like what a unicorn would make. It looked like it was made of a polished white stone.

White thought about the choice he had. He could just use it and teleport straight to Monarch’s castle. He wasn’t doing any good on Earthquake Island – nopony came to their meetings, nopony stopped by for help or advice, and worst of all they all hated him. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be better off with the unicorns. Maybe he could get help there.

But what about Scroll? he thought. He sat there, staring at the device. It began to fill him with the same sort of loathing that the disc launcher had.

His thoughts returned to that. He’d made the choice to throw that thing away, and what was the result? A tornado that ruined so many homes. What if Quake was right? What if he could have helped the ponies here by using that thing? But then he would have been hurting other ponies. He’d seen the body parts raining over the city. He couldn’t live with himself if he were ever a part of anything like that.

Since he had been a tiny colt, he had never dreamed of hurting anypony. It wasn’t who he was ­– he was a happy little pony, and he always wanted to do the right thing. One time, when he was young, he stole a cookie from the cookie jar and blamed his brother. For a long time, White struggled with that guilt, struggled to forgive himself. He wanted other ponies to be happy and for them to like him. But the ponies here weren’t happy. They didn’t like him. They called him names: Horner. Chucklefuck. Fag. Dickhead. Cocksucker. Ass-muncher. He didn’t understand why they did this. A foal had lied, accused him of molesting him with the intention of getting a lynch mob to kill him, and why? Purely out of spite.

Why? Why couldn’t they just let him be their friend? He had so much he wanted to share, and they wouldn’t take it. Back in Equestria things were so different. He had a family who loved him. He had a tight-knit group of friends with which he did plays and musicals. And then there was the Fraternity, filled to the brim with the nicest and brightest friends he’d ever known.

“White?” asked a voice.

White jumped, startled. He turned around and saw Clip standing in the middle of the room.

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I go see Tap?” Clip asked.

“Uh, yes,” said White.

Clip trotted out the room, and White stared at the scars on his back. How could they do that, he wondered. How could they rip the wings off of a little kid? How could they burn off his cutie mark? And for that matter, how could the pegasus ponies throw a child off of the cloud like that?

And as he looked at the teleporter he thought about the unicorns. He thought about Monarch, how he had callously murdered the earth pony hostages, how he had gruesomely massacred the soldiers in Tap’s bar.

He thought about the whole situation, between Earthquake Island, the Stormcloud, and the Monarch’s Fortress. Finally, after thinking and thinking, one terrifying, horrible conclusion occurred to him, something that he never thought he’d dare think – something he didn’t think was possible in Equestria.

These ponies are evil.

Scroll returned with a bucket of seawater, the realization dawning on him that this task would take several trips. He saw White sitting in the corner and stopped.

“White?” he asked as he set down the bucket.

“Huh?” asked White, hiding the teleporter.

“Are you... sure you’re okay?” he asked. “Ever since the, well, the...”

“Since the what?”

“Well...” said Scroll, “I mean, since the, er...” He swallowed. “Since the attempted hanging, you’ve been a little, well... hard to put it.”

White stared back at him. “What?” he asked.

“White, I’m worried about you,” Scroll blurted out.

White looked down. “That bad, huh?”

“White?”

“You just work on your thing. I’m gonna go see if I can help around town.”

“No, I’ll come with you...”

“No, Scroll,” said White. “You just keep getting the water. I’ll be back in a bit and see you test it out.” He tried to give a reassuring smile, but Scroll’s expression didn’t lighten. White shook his head and marched out the door.

Scroll stood there for a moment before he returned to the kitchen and dumped the seawater into the machine before heading back outside to take another trip down to the docks. At least, that was his plan.

Unfortunately, right as he walked out the door he blundered right into General Quake.

“Well,” said the General, “how’s it hanging?”

Scroll looked up at him. The general, to his surprise was grinning down at him with an expression somewhere between smug satisfaction and sadistic glee. Scroll found himself thinking he almost preferred the abusive Quake to this one.

“How’s your butt-buddy the horner?” asked the general.

“Umm...”

“What’s the matter? Cock got your tongue?”

“W-w-well, he’s, uh...” Scroll stammered. “...I’m worried.”

“Aw, he not feeling too good?” Quake asked. “Why don’t you just suck his cock, that’ll make him feel better. Or does he suck yours? Or do you take turns?” He looked down at the bucket in Scroll’s mouth. “What’s that?” He sniffed. “That your cum bucket?”

“Seawater...” Scroll mumbled.

“Huh?”

“Seawater,” Scroll repeated. “I was getting more.”

“What the fuck for?”

Scroll smiled. “I think I have a solution for the water shortage.”

“You can’t drink salt water, dipshit. Or did you forget that after swallowing all that–”

“Well, no,” said Scroll. “I think I got a way to make it drinkable.”

Quake was silent for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I think I have a way to take seawater and make it drinkable. I was just gonna go get some more. Then once I get the thing filled up I can test it. You want to come see it?”

Quake narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be back in one hour.”

___________

“Gee, it’s awful nice of them to help you with your house,” said Clip as he watched the soldiers at work on Tap’s house.

“Yes...” said Tap, making sure to tuck Scroll’s private little book out of the colt’s sight. “‘Nice.’”

“Are they your friends?”

“Not really,” she said. “They just like helping a pretty girl.”

“Eww...” said Clip.

“What?”

“Girls are icky.”

Tap cleared her throat.

“Well, most girls.” Clip sulked. “They’re mean.”

Tap was silent for a moment. “The general?”

“She’s mean,” Clip said. “So was Mom. All of them were, but Mom was real mean.”

“What did she do?” asked Tap.

Clip sulked. “She never did anything when the other foals were mean to me. She never read me bedtime stories or tucked me in or made me grilled cheese sandwiches. She only wanted me to be a soldier and she yelled at me when I cried. And then that made me cry more and she yelled more...” His voice trailed off.

Tap reached over and rubbed his mane with her hoof. “I can’t imagine anypony being mean to you.”

Clip lowered his head. “I don’t need a mom.”

Tap looked up and saw a familiar white unicorn approaching. “Well, they do say that Equestria’s a matriarchy.”

Clip looked up, smiling. “White!”

“Hey, Clip,” murmured White. He looked over the soldiers. “So...”

“They’re helping with the tavern,” said Clip.

“Uh-huh...” said White, looking at the work. “Seems you’ve got things under control.”

“I always do,” said Tap. “Just need to keep Barrel out of the tavern for the first night. Any chance he could stay at the mission house tonight?”

“Oh, sure, sure...” said White.

“Ooh! We can play games with four ponies!” piped Clip. White, however, did not seem particularly brightened at the prospect.

“I’ll just be going,” said White. “See what I can do.”

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem that there was anything White could do. The earth ponies were already hard at work rebuilding, and none of them wanted any help from the “faggy horner.” Maybe he should’ve offered Tap help, he thought. At least she would’ve accepted it.

The worst part of it was the bodies. Nothing he’d learned in the Fraternity had taught him about that. The fallen earth and pegasus ponies were piled into carts to be taken away and disposed of, either by burial or burning.

“Not crying this time,” said Quake. White jumped back. “Shocking.”

“This is awful...” said White, taking a breath.

“Well it’s fucking war,” said Quake. “Not like you faggy little Equestrians would know about that. All living your pampered little lives and sending your leftovers out to us.”

“We’re trying our best...”

“Well boo fucking hoo,” said Quake. He cornered White against the cart. “I gave you two spineless little pansies a chance. I gave you a fucking weapon. Something you could’ve used to save a few lives here. Or at the very fucking least, if you hate me so much you’d at least try to use it on me.”

“I don’t hate you, Quake,” said White.

There was a silence between the two. White stared into the general’s hard, rough features, before finally getting the courage to speak again.

“Am I wrong, general?” he asked. “Am I wrong to want peace? To want a world where we don’t have to be afraid of a cloud in the sky, where everyone can live safe, happy, and together?” He swallowed. “Am I wrong to think that life has worth?”

There was a groaning sound next to him. White turned his head and saw that one of the supposedly dead pegasus ponies was still stirring. Quake snorted.

“Life has worth?” he asked. He reached his hoof over and placed it on the pegasus soldier’s head. “What’s this cost me?” He pressed down, crushing the soldier’s head like an egg. “Jack shit, White. Jack shit.” The general turned and left, leaving White to sit there next to the piles of corpses.

___________

Quake tapped his hoof against the floor of the mission house, making the chairs rattle.

“The fuck is taking him so long?” he asked, looking around the house.

Scroll, however, returned, carrying a barrel on his back. “Sorry...” he said nervously. “Anyway, just follow me into the kitchen...”

He carried the barrel into the kitchen, leading Quake over to the machine. The main chamber was now filled to the brim with seawater, and Scroll set up the barrel at the other end of the pipe.

“Alright...” he said, looking at Quake nervously.

“It’s a fucking...” Quake paused, not sure what to call it. “Thing. Stop being a pussy and turn it on!”

Scroll nearly stumbled over himself heading to the front of the stove. Not wanting to get Quake to snap at him again, he turned the dial, igniting the stove and beginning the slow process of heating the water.

“And now we wait...”

Quake stood there, stiff as a rock, just watching as Scroll’s machine brought the water closer and closer to a boil. For Scroll, however, the wait was excruciating and seemed to crawl by at a snail’s pace. The wait was unbearable and he found himself pacing back and forth, his glance alternating between the machine and the general.

Scroll felt a miraculous wave of relief when he heard the door to the mission house open.

“Hey, anypony home?” called Barrel.

“We’re in here!” called Scroll.

Barrel entered the kitchen, carrying a sleeping Clip on his back.

“I think the little guy stayed up a bit too late with the attack last night,” he said. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Your gay best friend thinks he found something smart,” said Quake.

“Oh, is this that water thing you were talking about?”

“Uh-huh...” said Scroll.

“It better fucking work,” said Quake. “I could be doing something else right now. Like fucking your sister.”

Barrel grimaced at the remark.

“I got a look at all the soldiers she has rebuilding her place,” said Quake. “Bet you wish you got that kinda action, huh Scroll?”

Scroll looked at him.

“I wouldn’t know cause I’m not a fag, but hey, my soldiers good-looking? They’re sure manly and shit, aren’t they? But with how you spend so much time around Tap, maybe you like ‘em a bit more girly.”

“Wait...” said Barrel.

“But hey, a dick’s a dick, isn’t it?”

Scroll returned his attention to the machine. “I think it should be near a boil now. Then in a few minutes we should have something going.”

He walked over to the other end, where there was a spigot to dispense the water, once it had condensed from steam, into the barrel.

“Just need a few more minutes.”

“What should I do with Clip? asked Barrel.

“Just put him in the bunk,” said Scroll.

Barrel nodded and trotted out of the kitchen. All the while, Quake was impatiently looking up and down the machine.

“Why the fuck does this thing take so long?” he asked.

“Well,” said Scroll, “first it needs to boil the water and turn it into steam, and then the steam needs to condense back into drinkable water.”

“What, so we’re right back where we started?”

“No no no!” said Scroll. “When it evaporates, it leaves the salt behind... I hope.”

Slowly, cautiously, Scroll reached up to the spigot and turned the valve. Instantly, water began flowing through the hole in the top of the barrel. He stepped back as the sound of flowing water filled his ears. It was as though it were salvation in a valve.

Quake stared at the barrel as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Like he couldn’t believe that something Scroll did was actually working. Once Scroll was satisfied that the barrel was full, he shut off the spigot and backed out of Quake’s way. The general yanked the lid of the barrel off and sneered at the clear water. Then, he lifted the entire barrel up and brought it to his mouth, gulping down the water.

Scroll watched, wringing his hooves as Quake downed the entire contents of the barrel. When he finished, he lowered it and wiped his mouth before slowly turning to Scroll. He stared down at the missionary, watching as he sat frozen in place, his face covered in sweat.

“You didn’t get all the salt out,” he grumbled at last, before turning to leave.

“T-t-the...” Scroll stammered before collapsing.

___________

When Scroll awoke, he found himself back in bed. He looked around and found Barrel sitting next to him.

“Hey, you okay?” asked Barrel. “I saw the general leave, then I went into the kitchen and found you passed out on the floor. What happened?”

“I just remember...” Scroll thought. “How long have I been out?”

“I dunno... few minutes?”

Scroll sat up. “I think I got it...” he said. “I think I finally got it!”

“The water?”

“Yes!” Scroll hopped out of bed. “I gotta find White! This is great!”

“Umm...” said Barrel. “He actually just got here...”

Scroll walked into the main room and found White slouched in one of the seats, dejected.

“White! How’d it go?”

“Chamber pots...” White mumbled. “Why are they still with the chamber pots?”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that I think I got the water thing working. That means we can take longer baths and...” He stopped. “Are you okay?”

White sighed. “No, I’m not okay...”

Scroll approached him very slowly. “White, what is it?”

“I don’t know if we... if we can really do anything here...” said White. “What if we’re wrong?”

Scroll didn’t know what to say.

“The parties, the songs, the friendly smiles... what are they accomplishing? They aren’t feeding anypony, they aren’t stopping the war...” He paused.

“White...”

“And that disc launcher. What if throwing it off the pier was a dumb idea?”

“Well, I think we might’ve...”

“What if the general was right?”

Scroll and White were silent for a moment.

“That can’t be possible,” said Scroll. “Come on. Let’s get some water.” He lifted a bucket. “Take this.”

White looked at the bucket for a few seconds before sighing and taking it.

___________

The sun was sitting low as the three Brothers left the mission house, carrying small water barrels on their backs. White was still shaken from his earlier encounter with the general, but Scroll seemed excited about this new prospect.

Scroll passed by a couple of earth ponies who were hard at work putting up the walls of their house.

“Hello!” said Scroll. “I’m Brother Scroll, and I’m with the Fraternity of–”

“Dude, we’re down the street from you.”

“Sorry,” said Scroll. “Want some water?”

The other pony raised an eyebrow.

“I got water,” said Scroll. “It’s not from the reservoir.” He turned, showing a spigot to the other pony. Scroll reached into his saddlebag and produced a bowl and gave it to the earth pony. The earth pony held it to the spigot and filled it with water. Scroll was silent as the pony took a long drink from the bowl, hoping that he’d gotten it right.

After the pony had drained the contents of the bowl, he gave it back to Scroll. “Thanks,” he said.

Scroll’s face lit up. “You’re very welcome!” He took the bowl back and happily trotted off. “Sfee?” he asked White.

“Yeah...” said White.

“So...” said Barrel. “If you have this thing working, does that mean the water shortage is over?”

“Well, not quite,” said Scroll. “It takes time to evaporate and condense the water, and we can only get so much. But maybe if we can get more stoves we can produce more...”

“That’ll make a letter,” said White. “Dear Fraternity, could you send five or six stoves our way? In case ours breaks.”

“We could break the stove and make them send replacements,” Barrel suggested. White shook his head.

He watched as he saw another cart of bodies passing through the street. He walked up to them, staring at the pile of the dead. So many earth ponies, he wondered if some of them wouldn’t be dead if he had simply used Quake’s weapon when the tornado came. Could he have saved one of their lives? But then, wouldn’t that have meant killing the pegasus soldiers?

He shook his head. He couldn’t get them out of his head: Quake, the disc launcher, the tornado, all the dead bodies, and every other ugly thing on this island. Then he heard a dull chuckle. Scroll turned and saw that one of the bodies was still alive: a steel grey pegasus who was missing half of a wing.

“Oh Celestia...” he said.

“Too tough for my own good...” Captain Tempest wheezed.

White fumbled, unfastening his water barrel and setting it on the ground. He hastily filled the bowl with water before setting it in front of the dying captain.

“What’s this?”

“Water,” said White. The captain peered at him with that scarred eye that looked like it was always asking a question. He must have decided the water couldn’t possibly make his lot any worse, because he began to drink from it. When he was finished he looked back up at White.

“Can’t say I expected this from a horner,” he said.

“You needed it,” said White. “Hold on.”

“White, what is it?” asked Scroll.

“There’s a pegasus over here!” White called.

“Oh Celestia...” Scroll scrambled over to the cart and gasped at the sight of the pegasus.

“That bad, huh?” asked Tempest. He watched Scroll as the earth pony set his barrel on the ground and started to fill another bowl. White meanwhile had refilled his and placed it in front of the dying captain. “A horner and a dirt giving water to a winger. I must be delirious.”

“We’re with the Fraternity,” said Scroll.

“Ohh, one of Brother Sky’s pals?”

The Brothers paused. “Kinda acquainted...” said Scroll.

“Sky...” Tempest muttered. “Waste of feathers. Didn’t do a thing for the ponies under me. But I guess nopony on the Stormcloud did. Only sent ‘em to me to die. Watched a lot of my ponies die...”

“The fuck are you faggots doing?” growled the general. The Brothers turned and faced him (Barrel had made himself scarce). “What...” He looked down at the water barrels, and then back up to the missionaries. Scroll always seemed to shrink whenever Quake looked at him, but White remained nearly unfazed. Quake stared him the face and snorted. He grinned a little, before raising his hoof. White’s expression changed to alarm.

“Wait! No!” he pleaded.

With a smirk, Quake brought his hoof down on the water barrel, splintering it with a crunch and bleeding water all over the ground.

“WHY?!” cried White.

“Y’see that winger you’re watering?” Quake asked. “He’s one of the wingers they got on the tornados.”

“Was...” mumbled Tempest. “Can’t do that... anymore.” He rested his head on the floor of the cart. “Thanks for the water...” He said, before finally expiring.

Quake approached White. “You keep trying to play nice with both sides, well that doesn’t work. You have to make a choice. Can you do that, or is that too much to ask?”

“I-I-I-I-I...” White stammered. Then he broke. He turned away. He couldn’t face it. He didn’t care about the barrel of water on his back, he just had to get out. He ran.

“White, wait!” cried Scroll.

“I hurt your ass, faggot?” Quake jeered after him. “I knew you couldn’t take it. I knew from the moment you looked at that disc launcher that would wouldn’t have the fucking balls!” He laughed to himself before walking onwards.

Barrel emerged afterwards. “Dude...”

“Can you carry both of them?” asked Scroll.

“Huh?”

“I gotta go!” Scroll yelled, before running off.

Barrel looked at the remaining water barrel, blinking and wondering how he was going to do this.

___________

Brother White sat on a rock at the beach, watching as the sun finally dipped down over the horizon. The light was going out. He stared out at the sea, sulking and completely forlorn.

Scroll followed him down the beach at a brisk trot, carrying a book in his mouth. He slowed as he approached White, unsure if his companion was even aware he had been following.

“White...?” Scroll asked.

“What do I do, Scroll?” asked White, his gaze not shifting from the horizon. “What do I do? I try to do what I think is right, but... it’s not working...”

Scroll slowly approached and sat down next to him.

“I wanted to stay out of the violence. That thing... that horrible, horrible thing, I just couldn’t use it. I couldn’t use it to hurt other ponies. But then when I didn’t use it, other ponies got hurt. It’s like... whether I did anything or not...”

“It’s not your fault, White,” said Scroll. White didn’t say anything. “White? There’s...” Scroll got up and walked to the trunk of books. “There’s something I want to read to you.”

“Hmm?” White looked up and saw Scroll walking back up to him with a book in his mouth. Scroll sat down again and set down the book.

“This is that book I was talking about the day we went on the picnic: The Steadfast,” he said, turning the pages. “There’s one part I really want you to know.” Scroll took a breath. “And on all sides I am besieged, slandered, and shamed, because I would not give in to evil,” he read.

“Who talks like that?” mumbled White.

“White, please...”

“Scroll, I don’t know what I’m doing,” White sighed. “I’ve never known what I’m doing. All my life I’ve gotten by by just... just winging it, and now it isn’t working.”

“Using that weapon wouldn’t have helped anything,” said Scroll. “You’d just be doing what the general does.” White didn’t respond. “White, that pegasus soldier. If you had used that thing, you would’ve been the one killing him. And I know you don’t want that. I don’t want that. I can’t imagine anypony... I can’t imagine anypony like us wanting that.”

“I know, and I don’t want that,” said White. “I don’t want any of this... But what if it’s the only way?”

“It isn’t,” said Scroll. “They’ve been doing it that way for years, and it hasn’t worked. And when I looked at that soldier, well... I know he might’ve done some bad things. But I think he seemed like a good pony.”

“Maybe...” said White.

“White,” said Scroll. “The books came today.”

White looked down at the book Scroll had with him, and then back up at Scroll.

“The library,” said Scroll. “It can happen. It can really happen. And my water machine. It works. We can do it, White. We’ve been here for two months. We still have this mission for the rest of two years. We’ve invested too much and we still have too far to go for us to give up.”

“Maybe, but, but...” White shuddered. “Scroll, I’m scared!” He cried.

Scroll nodded. “So am I. I’m terrified, and I’ve been terrified since the day we arrived. And I still get scared every time one of the ponies here growls at me, or I hear a gun go off, or I see the sky darken or the general coming or when I look at the scars on Clip’s back or the burns on his flanks. But...” He put his hoof on White’s. “Whenever I look at you, and I see you smile... It’s like all of that’s just temporary, just an ugly thing that exists now and will be over.”

White looked at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything.

“White, I know you’re scared,” he continued. “And I am, too. But I can be here for you.” He nuzzled the side of White’s neck. “I’m always here for you. Just hold on to me.”

All of a sudden, White threw his hooves around Scroll, who returned the embrace as though he were expecting it.

“Scroll...”

“Hold on to me, White,” said Scroll. “Don’t let go.”

White took a deep breath and broke off. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Scroll said, nuzzling him. “I’m your friend, White.”

White nodded. “Scroll, I want you to know...”

“I do,” said Scroll. “You mean so much to me. Before I met you I thought I’d never have a friend. But you’re a lot more than that, White.” He rested his head under White’s neck, nuzzling it.

“Thanks...” said White. “But... I’m still scared. The sun doesn’t seem to shine the same as it did two months ago.”

“So am I,” said Scroll. “But whatever happens, we have each other.” He closed his eyes. “I want us to always have each other.”

“So do I, Scroll...” said White, lowering his head.

---

Chapter 22

White slouched behind his desk, staring blankly at the door. Everything was set up for a perfect mission day – the chairs were in neat little rows, the floor was clean, and the desk was neatly organized. However, the problem with friendship was that it required multiple ponies for anything to work, and White was alone.

There had, at one point, been a clock in the mission house, but it broke some time ago. Without the constant rhythmic ticking, the air was filled with faint, buzzy silence. White could stand the lack of noise, but with no way to tell the time, it was as though he were stuck at one point, frozen and stretched out indefinitely.

He had before him a list of the Fraternity’s membership on the island. It was not a very encouraging list. The first two names were obvious:

Brother Pearly White

Brother Scroll Page

Barrel’s name was also listed, as was Bottle Top, the local drunken bum. After that, however, were other names that White wasn’t sure were legitimate.

Salty Streams

Brown Mound

And so on.

White looked back up to the door. Any minute now, Scroll will be back, he thought. He’ll be back with something from the Fraternity.

And, sure enough, the door opened. His blue companion entered, but White noticed that Scroll’s eyes were downcast. There was an opened letter in his mouth, and it didn’t take a whole lot of thinking for White to connect the two.

“What happened?” White asked, sitting up in his seat.

Scroll trudged up to the desk, laying the letter on it. “It’s... not good.”

“How can it not be good?” asked White, lifting the letter. “Da da da...” he mumbled, “Dear Brothers White and Scroll, we regret to inform you that, due to your mission’s performance, we are not able to fill your request at this time...” His eyes scanned the rest of the letter, but none of that changed anything. He looked back at Scroll. “So no stoves?” he asked.

“Afraid not...” said Scroll. “I was afraid this might happen...”

White looked down at the list of names. “Are you sure that Salty Streams isn’t a real pony?”

“Tap seems pretty sure,” said Scroll. “Uh...”

White looked at the kitchen door. “Any chance we could... just make stoves? I mean, they’d have to run on wood and not magic, but...”

“We could do that,” said Scroll. “Use firewood rations... but that’s kind of counterproductive. I mean, the ponies get wood from the forest, but they need the water to grow the forest and with the shortage, well...” He fidgeted with his glasses. “It’s kind of a dilemma there...”

“You know, I ran out of shampoo this morning,” said White. His eyes had glazed over, as though he had withdrawn into some other world of his own choosing.

“I’m sorry?”

“Ran out. All gone. Unless I write mom and dad for more.” White blinked. “And I haven’t had a manecut in months, either.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with long hair...”

“I need a bubble bath,” said White, getting up from his seat.

“Huh?” Scroll asked, still weighing the advantages and disadvantages of building a wood-burning stove. Snapped from his planning, he saw that White was heading for the kitchen, where the water barrels were kept. White’s face was drawn into a half-delirious, broken half-smile.

“Just a nice, calm, relaxing...”

“White, no!” Scroll said, following him. “We can’t waste that. And you already showered this morning.”

White, however, continued. “But I need it...”

“No!” Scroll shouted. White tried to break into a run for the door, but Scroll leapt onto his back, knocking him to the floor. “White, get a hold of yourself!”

White hadn’t taken his eyes off of the door, and he struggled to push himself up with his hooves and drag himself closer to the door. Scroll did his best to hold him back – being an earth pony, he was a great deal stronger than his companion, but it was still a struggle. He put his forelegs around White’s belly and planted his hind hooves into the floor, pulling White back as the unicorn continued to try to advance towards the precious water supply.

“Just one bubble bath!”

“NO!”

“I’ll do it cold!”

“White!”

Scroll and White continued struggling, with Scroll on top trying to keep him under control. The blue pony looked around, his eyes frantically searching for some way to calm him down. His eyes fell on the door of the bunkroom, where Clip, presumably roused by the noise, was staring at them wide-eyed.

“Clip!” Scroll shouted. “Get me a brush! Quickly!”

Clip disappeared back into the bunkroom.

“I need my bubbles…” White moaned.

The colt reappeared in the doorway, brush in mouth.

“Quickly, give it to me!” Scroll called. Clip tossed the brush over and Scroll caught it in his mouth. While White continued babbling about how much he needed his bubble bath, Scroll lowered his head and ran the brush over the unicorn’s brown mane.

“I… I…” White breathed as he felt his companion draw the brush through his hair. He let out a few more breaths and lowered himself back down. “Ahh...”

He lowered his head to the floor, closing his eyes as his companion gently, gently brushed his mane. It was perhaps the best feeling he could have after running out of shampoo that morning.

Scroll continued brushing his partner’s mane and began massaging his back and shoulders. White let out a soft moan as his muscles relaxed, dissipating all tension and taking on the consistency of a big floppy pillow.

“Mmm...” he hummed to himself.

“Feel better?” Scroll asked.

“Mm-hmmmm...” said White, raising his head. “Ahh... you’re good at this. Slower... just a little slower...”

___________

Tap looked at the bottle and shot glass in front of her. Curiously, she raised the glass in front of her eyes, examining the whiskey. Lifting the glass to her mouth, she downed the liquid.

“Wow,” she said, looking at the empty glass with an impressed expression. “Good stuff.”

“No shit,” said the general. “It’s my special stash.” He peered unctuously at her. “You can have a bottle to take home if you like. Fuck, take two.”

Tap looked around the tent – it was arranged with Quake’s usual necessities. There was his bunk, a large mattress with covers that hadn’t been re-arranged in a month. There was a map of the island. There was a list of ponies that annoyed him: the other generals, the brothers, the idiot lieutenant who dropped his gun in the lake, some privates who wouldn’t shut up...

“This the part where you tell me what you want for it?”

Quake gave a snort of laughter. “Nothing different from usual.”

“You’re in a good mood today,” she said. “What, did you just drop somepony down a hole?”

“Fucker deserved it.”

“Right.”

“I told him, ‘one more crack about the size of my dick...’”

Tap let out a snort of laughter.

“You don’t laugh when it’s in you.” Quake smirked. He sat down opposite her, pouring out himself a glass. “Horners are planning something,” he muttered. “King horner wants the cum-colored faggot to go with him and suck his cock. Just like the last one.”

“Oh, the last one...” said Tap. “He was kinda an asshole. Actually, they both were.”

“Wouldn’t bang?”

“Wouldn’t bang.”

“Should’ve thrown both of them off the moment they arrived,” said Quake. “Gotten rid of a huge headache.”

“Hey,” said Tap, “can’t argue with free food.”

“The only fucking thing they’re good for...” Quake said.

Tap poured herself another glass of whiskey and leaned back. “Y’know, I’m not sure whether I should drink this whiskey or sell it. Hard choice.”

“It’s fucking hard liquor,” Quake said.

“Might sell it,” said Tap. “If I can get some good money out of it I’ll be able to go awhile without whoring.”

Quake leaned forward. “What, you don’t enjoy it as much as I do?”

“Well, I don’t enjoy my brother’s pained expression every time a stallion walks up the stairs.”

“Maybe he should eat less if he doesn’t like it so much,” Quake grunted.

Tap swirled her drink around a little, thinking. Quake got up from the table and walked over to the tent entrance, shutting the flap. She downed the glass and put the stopper back on top of the bottle.

“Thanks,” she said, “I needed that.”

Her eyes fell on the bunk – she hesitated to call it a “bed.” Dirty, smelly, unwashed, un-made. Due to the water shortage, a pony could very rarely be expected to wash their sheets. Really, it came down to the decision between drinking and cleanliness, and thirst always won. Still, Quake’s bedclothes, while dirty and unkempt, had at least been drawn over the bunk in an effort to appear tidy. She smirked at that.

She looked back at Quake. His eyes were filled with lust and he lumbered towards her. The mare stood up, meeting him.

“Remember our first time?” he asked. “You were scared?”

“Well, you’re a scary guy.”

“Yes I am,” he said. “Pretty young mare, how long ago was it?”

“Six years.”

“Six years...” Quake smiled. “I remember the first time I saw you, trying to get that inn off the ground. I stepped into your tavern not paying any mind. Your kid brother damn near pissed himself when he saw me walk in. You didn’t.”

“I was still scared.”

“Didn’t show it, though.” He lifted a hoof, stroking her chin. “I liked that. How long’d you been whoring?”

“Not very long,” she said. “Only been maybe... four stallions? Five?”

“Didn’t like any of them, did you?”

“No,” said Tap, “but I pretended to. I was always good at pretending.”

“Pretended not to be scared of me.” Quake smiled, leaned in and kissed her. “Big scary general,” he said when he drew back.

“A fight had broken out,” Tap continued, walking towards the bed. “The tavern was a riot zone, ponies beating each other up, bottles flying, tables upturned, chairs broken.” She sat. “I couldn’t handle it. Barrel was nearly crying. Then you came in and everyone stopped. You said you’d wreck them all if they didn’t knock it off and they all left. Then you saw me.”

“I saw you standing there,” he said, sitting down next to her. “I asked for a drink. Asked who you were.”

“Just a girl,” she said. “Trying to get by.”

“And I thought it must be awful difficult,” he said. “Being on your own, looking after a kid brother.”

“It still is.”

“And I asked you how you managed. You got really uncomfortable. You looked at the floor...”

“I do... things,” said Tap. “I do other things on the side.”

“And that got me interested,” said Quake. He leaned in closer to her, close enough to feel her body heat, close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck. Slowly, she lay down on her back, looking up at the smiling general.

“You were terrified. You’d seen what I could do. The way I fucked up the ponies who got in my way, the way I made the island shake. You thought I was gonna snap you in half.” He lowered his head to her ear and whispered. “Because you know I could do that. But it was also exciting, wasn’t it?”

“Yes...” she breathed in his ear.

“And you liked it,” said Quake. “I was the first one you liked...” He hoisted himself over her, and slowly lowered down. “You’re more beautiful now than you were then...”

A loud bang from outside resounded, wrenching Quake out of his monologue.

“Oh FUCK YOU!” he roared, pulling himself off of the bed.

“Shoulda done it at my place,” Tap muttered.

Quake stormed out of the tent, rippling the flap open. “Who did that?” he snarled, looking around. “Who shot their fucking gun?”

The general’s eyes fell on two hapless shmucks who feebly attempted to hide their rifles behind their backs.

“Who shot?” asked the general. The soldiers promptly pointed at each other. “Better, actually,” Quake reasoned. “I can beat the shit out of both of you.”

“He started it!” protested one soldier, pointing away from them all. Quake’s gaze followed and saw nothing but a seagull perched atop the wall of the encampment. He looked back at them with a tired, incredulous expression.

“Fucking really?”

“He was making fun of us!” the other soldier complained, at which point the seagull stuck out its tongue and blew a raspberry at both of them.

“Oh, fucking piece of…” Quake grumbled. “You know what? Fuck it, you’ll both probably die in the next attack…” Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention – it was a small wooden crate. “The fuck is this?” He asked, tapping it with his hoof.

“It’s the, uh, the supplies from the Fraternity…”

Quake kicked the lid of the crate open. Inside was a paltry assortment of goods: milk, eggs, a brightly-colored blanket dotted with smiling faces that the general wouldn’t be caught dead sleeping in…

“This is it?” he asked, picking up a package of crackers.

“No, we let them keep a loaf of bread.” The soldier shrugged.

“What’s the holdup?” asked Tap who, not hearing any beatings, ventured out of the tent. “I kinda got other stuff to do today.”

“This is bullshit, they get more than this,” Quake muttered.

“Apparently not…” said the soldier through his teeth.

Tap looked down into the crate. Quake was right; this didn’t make sense. The first time the Fraternity had sent supplies, Quake had taken more than this and left the Fraternity with plenty to go around, including a rainbow in a box. Now it seemed like little more than a lazy grocery list. Something was wrong.

___________

“So...” said White. “Bake sales don’t work.”

“Can’t really do a bake sale if we can’t bake anything to sell...” said Scroll.

“I get that, Scroll,” said White. The ‘How-Can-We-Get-Ponies-To-Join’ list floated in front of the unicorn’s face, trailing down to the floor. Sadly for the missionaries, many, many items had been crossed out.

“Can’t do bake sales,” said White, “not even going to try the water balloon toss.” He shook his head. “They send us a package of the things two weeks ago, but now they cut us off.”

“No, no, nothing like a party game is going to help,” Scroll muttered. “That’s been the case from day one.”

“Need to solve the water crisis...” said White. “Solve the water crisis, we get more members. But we need more members in order to solve the water crisis...”

“Maybe...” said Scroll. “Maybe if we tell them that we need them to sign up in order to solve the water shortage...”

White lay his head down on the desk. “It’s not fair. We were this close. If we’d got this figured out like, three weeks ago we’d’ve got it.”

Knock knock.

The missionaries stared at the door.

“Oh no...” said White.

“It’s gotta be the general,” said Scroll. “He’s gonna ask why we didn’t get more stuff, and he’s gonna be mad.” He took a breath. “Okay,” he said, removing his glasses. “I’ll take the hit.”

“The hit?”

“Well he’s probably gonna hit somepony...” Scroll cleared his throat. “Ahem. Come in!”

The door slowly opened as Tap stood in the doorway.

“Hey,” she said. “I heard about the... supply shortage? What’s going on?”

“Well, I was half right...” Scroll mumbled.

“The Fraternity isn’t happy,” said Brother White, blowing a lock of his mane out of his face. “We haven’t been doing so well, so they’ve cut back on the supplies we get.”

“And that means no more pie for a while.”

Tap sauntered over to the desk where they kept the membership list. “Y’know, I told you that ‘Brown Mound’ isn’t an actual pony.”

“We know,” the brothers moaned in unison.

“Just checking...” said Tap.

“Well, in any case...” Scroll sighed, putting his glasses back on. “White and I will go out knocking on doors... can’t think of anything better to do...”

Tap looked up from the list. “I actually wanted to ask about that.”

___________

“What?” asked Barrel. “No!”

“Thank you for your concern, Barrel,” said Tap in a tone so dry that one could swear the drought got a little worse.

The various patrons in the bar couldn’t help but watch the scene – Barrel, his mouth hanging open in horror; Tap, her eyes narrowed and wishing for this awkward conversation to be over already.

“I don’t get it,” said Barrel.

“Look, I’m going to go out with him while he’s doing his door-knocking thing,” said Tap. “It isn’t complicated.”

“But why? Tap, you can’t...” Then the realization hit him. He leaned in, and asked, in a low, accusing voice, “did you sleep with him?”

“Barrel...”

“Did you sleep with him?”

Tap paused. The dull murmur of the bar patrons, the occasional thud of a stein hitting the table, punctuated by Barrel’s accusing stare, filled her silence with a sense of guilt and dread.

“Yes,” said Tap. “I did.”

Barrel let out an outraged sputter.

“It was their first day on the island. They’d had it pretty bad, found out that this wasn’t a nice place. They stopped by here one night. I gave them some drinks, I saw that Scroll liked me... I thought I’d give him his first lay.”

“And now he wants more, huh?” Barrel asked bitterly.

“Barrel, you’re overreacting.”

“You two both go behind my back like this and I’m overreacting?”

“Barrel, stop...”

“No, you stop!” shouted Barrel. The a swift hush fell over the tavern. Barrel looked around and he felt suddenly self-conscious, almost ashamed. He looked down.

“I sleep with tons of guys,” said Tap, “why is this–”

“Stop treating me like I’m retarded...” he said in a soft voice.

Tap looked down at the ground, sighing. She then looked back up at Barrel, who was making a conscious effort not to look her in the face. “Brother White will be over here in a bit. He’ll help you with the customers.” She leaned over the counter. “And be patient with him. He's under a lot of stress."

“Fine.”

“Barrel,” said Tap, “he’s a nice guy. You know him.”

Barrel didn’t respond. The door swung open.

“Heh-loooooo!” called Brother White. “I, uh...” He looked around and blinked. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

Tap smiled and beckoned him over to the counter. “It’s very simple,” she explained. “I’ve got everything organized so you can find it.”

“No labels?”

“No,” said Tap, “that’d be stupid. Besides, it’s the middle of the day, so nopony’ll want anything fancier than a beer or a whiskey. But I made a little list, just in case.”

White floated the slip of paper in front of him. “Okay,” he said, his eyes flicking across it. “I think I can handle it.” He made his way behind the counter. “Sure. Got it. Totally got it.” He turned around, comparing the bottles on the shelf to his list. “Okay...”

“Anything I should know?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing much,” White said with a shrug. “Scroll should be able to give you the basics. Just be polite, knock, smile, and always wish them a nice day. Y’know?”

“I think so.”

Tap gave one last look at Barrel, who was still sulking at the counter next to the oblivious unicorn. She sighed before turning to walk out the door. The streets were busy as the various ponies went about their work, save for one pony who had been waiting by the door. His tie had been ironed, his nametag polished, and his mane neatly combed.

“Certainly got yourself prettied up for this, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Eheheh...” Scroll giggled, fidgeting with his glasses.

“This makes good on that promise for a date I made back in Hearth’s Warming.” She looked around. “So, you’re gonna take me for a walk through old brown town?”

Scroll gave a smile and nodded. “Something like that.”

The pair began their walk down the road, off to the side so as to avoid getting hit by a hurrying passer-by.

“Not polite to ask somepony who looks like they’re in a hurry,” said Scroll. “It just makes them resent you. Well...” He stopped, chewing over what he just said. “More than usual. In any case, the important thing is that they know you’re there. That’s what the ties and nametags are for.”

“Well, your friend already does that by himself,” Tap remarked. “I mean, the horn on his head in a town where ponies don’t have horns.”

“Well, yeah, for here,” said Scroll, fidgeting with his glasses again. “But in general, on other missions in places that, well...”

“Aren’t here,” said Tap. “What other sorts of places to missionaries get sent to?”

“Well, anywhere, really. There are lots of places in Equestria and out. Heh...” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Before I went on this mission I’d never been outside Equestria. Well, this mission had a lot of firsts for me.”

“One comes to mind.”

“Well, uh, that is...” Scroll shook his head and continued walking without finishing that sentence.

The two made their way through the marketplace. Scroll carefully waded through, trying to be as polite as possible. Tap, however, was more direct, cutting through the crowds like a knife, an art honed by years of practice rushing through the market to get to the best deal or to get home.

“Tap, wait up!” called Scroll.

Tap turned around and saw Scroll apologetically picking through the crowd. When he finally caught up with her, his breath was short as he was winded, and he let out a nervous chuckle.

“C’mon,” said Tap. “Teach me how to knock on doors.”

___________

White, despite his slightly shaky condition, seemed to find himself fairly capable when it came to serving drinks. A customer would say:

“Hey, horner, give me a beer.”

White would consult the piece of paper Tap had given him, turn to the mess of bottles behind him, and then procure the correct bottle. He would then turn back to the customer, who often looked at the magically floating bottle with suspicion, and give them the bottle and a smile.

Barrel continued at his job, almost wordlessly, still stewing about what had happened earlier. He wiped down the counter, his brow furrowed, occasionally muttering to himself.

“Barrel?” asked White. “You okay?”

“How is it you’re doing okay at this?” Barrel asked. “You don’t get confused or flustered with the orders or...”

“Well, I got a list,” said White, looking it over. “I mean, it spells everything out.”

Barrel grumbled some more. “I can’t believe it.”

“What do you mean?”

“How long have you known about this? About my sister and Scroll?”

White took a deep breath. “The whole time,” White said.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“It wasn’t my place to tell you.” White shrugged. Barrel resumed his grumbling. “Look, Barrel...”

“Everypony keeps saying ‘look, Barrel,’” Barrel mumbled.

“Listen, Barrel, I know exactly how you feel,” said White. “I have lots of brothers and sisters. And I’m very close to them, and back when I was in school, well, when we were all in school, they started dating. And, well, I got jealous. That’s just how life is.”

“Yeah,” said Barrel. “But you have a bunch of brothers and sisters. I only have one.”

“Well...” White grimaced.

“Well, lookit who’s in charge of the joint now,” said a voice that sent a chill down White’s spine. He turned and saw a familiar brown pony setting down next to the counter. Carpenter. “Bet you’re glad that your whorefriend got you out of that.”

“Very,” said White. “I’m also thankful to Scroll, Barrel, Clip, and the general. Now, anything I can get–”

“And to me,” said Carpenter, “because I don’t shoot you right now.”

White blinked. “Thank you?”

“Hey,” said Barrel. “Fuck off. He didn’t molest your shitstain of a kid.”

“Watch your mouth, fatass,” Carpenter snapped. “Your whore sister isn’t here.”

“Are you going to order a drink?” asked White, his high tenor voice cutting over theirs. “Or are you just going to insult me? Because really, I’ve been here for a few months. You keep calling me names I don’t get and then you try to murder me.”

“You’re a foal-fiddler.”

“See?” asked White. “Calling me names I don’t get.”

“Oh, look who’s being clever?”

“I’m not clever, really,” insisted White. “Just ask Scroll or Barrel or Tap. Tap’s clever, she’s got a whole lot of zingers. I mean, Scroll’s the brains of this–”

Carpenter cut Brother White off with a hoof across the face. The tavern went silent as all eyes were fixed on the earth pony and the unicorn, staring at each other. White raised a hoof to his cheek.

“What?” asked Carpenter. “Not gonna fight?”

“I reserve the right to refuse service to anypony, for any reasons,” said White. “Please leave.”

Carpenter looked around. “This isn’t over, horner.” He snorted and turned to leave.

“Finally, an insult I know the definition of,” muttered White, turning back to Barrel. “Unfortunately it isn’t much of an insult.”

Barrel sighed. “I’m gonna go out back and take out the garbage, okay?”

“Okay,” said White, returning to count the bottles on the shelf.

Barrel grabbed a dustbin and made his way out of the back door. Part of him knew that he shouldn’t be so grumpy. After all, if Tap was going to be in a relationship, Barrel could easily reason that one of the missionaries would be a lot nicer to her than one of her usual clients. Still, the fact that they’d done this behind his back...

“Psst!”

Barrel’s ears pricked up.

“Psst!” it said again.

Barrel looked around the alleyway, searching for the source of the noise.

“Up here!” hissed the voice. Barrel looked up and saw a very familiar pink colt handing from the roof above.

“Clip, what are you doing here?” asked Barrel.

“White said I should be working on my reading,” said Clip. “But this is more important!”

“Huh?”

“Scroll and Tap are going out!” exclaimed Clip. “They’re out walking and stuff!”

“I know,” drolled Barrel, dumping the garbage into a larger bin.

“We have to stop them!” said Clip, his voice squeaking from his excitement. “They could... they could kiss!”

“Oh, that’s all?” asked Barrel. “Look, I kinda got a job to do.”

“But this is important!” Clip whined. “Besides, White’s in there. Can’t he just do it?”

Barrel stopped and thought for a moment. Clip had a point – White seemed to be handling himself awfully fine in there...

“Okay, let’s do it. What’s the plan?”

“I have lots and lots of plans,” said Clip, grinning. “It’s time for Operation: End Date.”

___________

Scroll trotted up to the door of one of the many houses on the road. “Okay, this house usually goes over okay. The guy who lives here is usually very friendly, always says hi. His wife, on the other hand...”

Tap knocked on the door and waited. “So,” she said, “why hasn’t he joined up? I mean, why do you keep knocking?”

“Just being neighborly,” said Scroll. “It’s part of being a good friend.” He chuckled. “And maybe sometime when his wife isn’t looking he can slip over to the mission house and sign our roster.”

The door opened and a mare peered out, glaring at the two.

“Oh, lovely. Where’s the other one?”

“He’s taking the day off from mission duty,” said Scroll. “Doing something less stressful.”

“Well, my husband ain’t home. And he ain’t goin’ with you,” said the mare, before slamming the door in his face.

“I don’t get why she doesn’t like us,” said Scroll as they made their way back down the pathway.

“Maybe she’s afraid you’ll seduce her husband,” suggested Tap.

Scroll looked at her. “Huh? Why would I do that?”

“Not saying you would,” said Tap. “Juuuuust saying.”

Scroll stopped and blinked, trying to figure out exactly what Tap was ‘juuuuust saying.’

“C’mon,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Show me some more.” The two resumed their walk down the road. “Y’know, haven’t you visited pretty much everypony in town?”

“Probably,” said Scroll. “But every time there’s an attack and the houses change, it’s hard to keep track.” He nodded to a house with a large dog chained up in the yard. “That house we generally avoid. The dog’s very mean, and I think he might’ve been trained to attack unicorns on sight…”

“Unicorns and pegasi,” said Tap, “most likely.” She saw Scroll was smiling at her, and stopped. “What?”

“You didn’t use racial slurs.”

“What?” Tap laughed, resuming her walk. “Well, of course I wouldn’t use them around you.”

“You used to,” said Scroll, following. “But now you don’t.”

“What’s your point, exactly?”

“No point,” said Scroll, smiling slyly. “Juuuuust saying.”

Tap stopped and wheeled around to face him. “Oh,” she said playfully, “is this your way of flirting?”

___________

“Okay!” said Clip, checking the elasticity of the cables. They had hooked up a large slingshot between two posts. Barrel sat, drawing back the cradle with a water balloon. “I knew these would be great!”

“But…” said Barrel. “There’s a water shortage. Isn’t this wasteful?”

“But this is about love!” protested Clip. He wheeled around, setting his sights on the two earth ponies. Grinning, he rubbed his front hooves together. “This will ruin their date. They’ll hate it so much that they’ll break up, and then Scroll can be with White...”

“Seems like an awful lot of water in here…”

“Ready?”

“Huh?”

“Aimfire!” Clip squeaked, prompting Barrel to release the water balloon out of pure surprise. They both watched as the brightly-colored ball hurtled towards its destination, striking Scroll squarely in the head and exploding.

Scroll and Tap were both soaked, their manes drenched. Tap jumped back, while Scroll just stood there, a look of abject shock on his face.

“Quick! Before they see!” yelled Clip as he ducked behind a cart, leaving Barrel to clumsily try to not only get up, but scoop up the slingshot and get behind cover with Clip. However, Barrel’s size made it difficult. “No! No! You’re too fat!” protested Clip, forcing Barrel to hole up behind another cart.

___________

“White spent something like ten minutes on my mane,” said Scroll. “I think he feels better when he’s focused on something like that.”

Tap laughed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Well, at least that’s a bit of water that I won’t have to pay for.” She smiled and looked at Scroll. “Think I might like that manestyle better.”

“Huh?” asked Scroll. “Well, I, uh, thank you?” he stammered. “Yours looks really good, too?”

___________

“Psst!” Clip called to Barrel from the other side of the street. “Are they mad?”

Barrel peered out from behind his cart. “No, they’re... no! She’s nuzzling him!” he whispered as loudly as he could.

“What?!” Clip squawked, poking his own head out.

“Hey, kid,” said one of many, many gruff voices on the island. Clip looked up and saw the proprietor of the fruit cart he was hiding behind. “Are you gonna buy something or just keep playing hide-and-seek?”

“Hiding,” said Clip.

___________

White wondered just where on Earthquake Island Barrel had gone off to. As it was, White was left alone to handle the orders coming in. It was slightly easier than expected, as it seemed his presence behind the counter made the tavern a little less popular than it normally would have been. After all, not only was he a unicorn, but his unease around the liquor, as though he weren’t old enough to be in the place, was off-putting for many customers. Also, the patrons didn’t deem him as pretty as Tap.

As two other ponies made their way out of the tavern, the door flew open. The loud hoofsteps on the ground told White who it was before he even instinctively turned his head to see.

“Alright! Time to get drunk and laid!” called General Quake who, from the way his eyes wandered with disinterested abandon, may have well been drunk already. “Now,” he said, looking to the counter, “where’s my NO! No no no no no no NO! Fuck you! Fuck you, you fucking horner! Where the fuck is Tap?”

“She’s out with Scroll,” said White. “I’m in charge for today.”

“Why don’t you magic yourself into a contortionist, bend over, and fuck yourself up the ass with your horn!”

“Uhh…” said White, “my magic only works on mouths. I’m going to be a dentist, and… I don’t think I really like things up my butt. I mean, after what you did…”

Quake looked around at the patrons around him, all of them staring at him, wondering if they’d heard Brother White correctly.

“Look, Quake, that hurt. I don’t want any more of it.”

The pupils of Quake’s eyes went tiny. For once, he felt as though the eyes of everypony else in the bar were boring into him. And they were – the bar was completely silent, and nopony was sure whether or not it was safe to laugh or say anything, or even breathe. Quake was a mountain ready to explode.

“Uhh, Quake?” asked White. “You, uh, want a drink?”

“Listen, you little punk,” Quake snarled through his teeth, “nothing happened between us. You got that?”

“What?” asked White. “I just wanted to make you happy, and you...”

“Shut up!” Quake hissed. He slammed his hoof down, cracking the counter nearly in half. “Shut up you idiot! I’m already pissed off because your little gay fag club stopped sending supplies!”

White drew back against the shelf. “Listen, I-I-I-I can’t–”

“Write a fucking letter!”

“Listen, Quake, the Fraternity’s cut down on us because we aren’t doing very well!” White tried to explain, a hint of frantic desperation in his voice.

“Then do better!” Quake said. Forgetting that he wanted a drink, he turned to leave.

“Uhh, you broke the...”

“Fuck you.”

The tavern remained silent for a good minute after Quake left, after which the bar patrons resumed their business.

"Reminds me of my relationship with my wife," said one of them.

___________

“Okay,” said Barrel, steadying the bucket. “As soon as they walk under, we dump it on them!”

“Yeah!” agreed Clip.

They sat on the roof, watching Scroll and Tap make their way down the street. In between the saboteurs was a bucket filled with sawdust. Barrel looked down at the ground – to him, the distance was dizzying.

“Oh dear...” he said. He looked around at the thatched wooden rooftops of the town, stretching out around here. “How’d I even get up here...?”

“It’s not that high.”

“Not for you, you’re a pegasus and you weigh like ten times less than me,” Barrel said, shifting his weight as the roof creaked beneath him.

___________

Meanwhile on the street below, Tap and Scroll continued their walk. They had had no success with the door-knocking so far, and were on the way to another part of the town to try again.

“I’ve known the general for a long time,” said Tap. “Only things he likes are sex and violence.”

Scroll paused, his expression drawn into a quizzical scrunch. “Sooooo...” He thought. “Would he like us if we had sex with him?”

Tap’s mind then led to a colorful image...

“The reason I’m so angry,” said Quake. “It’s just that I’m so... so frustrated.”

“I understand,” said White, nodding understandingly.

“I just... I want to be honest about myself,” said Quake. “Can I? Can I be that with you?”

“You can be as honest as you like around me.”

“That is... the worst thing I have ever imagined,” said Tap. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Neither would I...” said Scroll, sticking his tongue out.

The two stopped and sat down on the side of the road. They watched as some ponies went by, doing whatever it was they were doing. Making deliveries. Going for walks. Whatever.

“It’s gotta get old,” said Tap. “Failing over and over again?”

“We at the Fraternity prefer to think of it as ‘delayed success.’”

“That only works if you succeed,” said Tap.

“Well,” said Scroll. “I’m not going to admit I’m a failure, am I?” He smiled, entreating her to laugh. She didn’t. “Well,” he said, “the door-knocking isn’t doing so well. I’ve been hoping that with our little water thingy we’d become a bit more popular...”

“Well, it works, at least,” she said.

“Yes.” Scroll nodded. “I mean, we can only get so much water, but if we can make enough to relieve just some of the drought...” He sighed. “Seriously, it’s exhausting hauling those barrels of sea water back and forth.”

Tap laughed. “And that library thing of yours?”

“Well, that’s been a bit on the back burner since we started with the water,” said Scroll. “I still have the books all locked up in the trunk.”

“I look forward to seeing how you pull it off,” she said flatly.

“Yeah...” said Scroll. “So do I.” He shifted his weight and started to stand up. “But I hope for the best.” He grinned. “I’m excited about it.”

“Somehow I don’t think the ponies here love books the way you do,” said Tap.

“That’s a shame,” said Scroll. “I love reading. Ever since I learned my ABCs.”

Tap rolled her eyes. “I know a bunch of ponies who can’t even get that far. I’ve never found stories very useful.”

“Stories are everything to me,” said Scroll. He looked up at the sky (Barrel scurried back in a panic). “Stories are... well, they’re worlds. Huge, amazing different worlds, filled with all kinds of things – wonder, magic, horror...”

“I’ve got plenty enough of that here,” said Tap. “Sometimes I think I could do with a little less of the real stuff, never mind the made-up stuff.”

“But they take us places,” said Scroll. “Don’t they?”

“Gotta come back, though.”

Scroll looked back down. “Well, yes,” he conceded. “But maybe you can bring just a little bit with you. Anyway...” He adjusted his glasses. “That’s enough of a break, I think.” He got up. “Well, let’s go.”

“Might wanna wait...”

“Nonsense!” said Scroll, walking on. “There’s too few hours in the–” Thud.

Because he hadn’t taken Tap’s advice, Scroll had stumbled right into a burly, scowling stallion. “Erm...” Scroll looked up. “Sorry.”

The stallion didn’t change his expression. “Well maybe you should watch where you’re going next time.”

“Yes...” Scroll backed up. “Yes, I’ll do that from now...” He bumped into Tap and jumped. Tap was wearing that sort of pained expression that comes when someone is trying very hard not to laugh.

“Whatever,” said the stallion, resuming on his way. “Just get out of my–” Suddenly, a light brown cloud dropped right over his head. “CAUGH!” he coughed. Tap and Scroll just stared at him. “What the–” The stallion looked up, just in time to find a bucket hit him square in the face with a loud clang. The other two jumped in surprise.

“Umm...” said Scroll, looking up. He couldn’t see anypony, but he could swear he heard something that sounded like a muffled argument.

___________

“You waited too long!” Clip hissed.

“I had to get it so they wouldn’t see me!”

“Well you missed!”

“I was aiming for Scroll!”

“What?” asked Clip. “No, you should’ve been aiming for her!”

“I’m not gonna dump sawdust on my sister!” He paused. “Does it even matter as long as they break up?”

“Huh...” Clip rubbed his chin. Barrel sat down on the roof, relieved that he could rest his entire weight straight down without worrying about falling off the edge.

“So next plan?” he asked.

“I dunno...” said Clip. “I thought it wouldn’t take this long.”

“You said you had lots of plans!”

“I have one more idea...”

___________

Tap was unsurprised when Scroll failed to give a book to any of the ponies he approached. After all, if the missionaries had failed a hundred times, there was no reason why attempt number one-hundred-one would be a success.

She had stood and watched as, every time, Scroll had been met with flat rejection, scorn and contempt, or outright suspicion. At every door she kept her eyes on his face – the nervous, wavering smile, the glasses he fidgeted with, the uncertain attempts at holding eye contact. All of it, showing he tried so, so hard, but never quite succeeding.

“Well, yeah, but what are we going to do?” asked Scroll. “Just stay in the mission house all day?”

“Well, yeah,” said Tap, “but I don’t see the point in going out when you’re only going to be met with failure.”

“I’m kinda used to it,” said Scroll. “Really, the thing that really bums me is that with less supplies we can’t have our free breakfasts.”

“I gotta admit,” said Tap, “I honestly think that the Missionary House of Pancakes was a pretty good idea.”

Scroll smiled. “Thanks.”

They continued on their way. Tap never found the town a nice place for walking. As far as she was concerned, if you saw one brown building then you’d seen them all, no matter how many times they were rebuilt. Barrel liked to go down to the docks or the beach for his seagulls, but she never understood the appeal of those dumb birds that didn’t seem to do anything but steal food.

But then, there were a lot of things Tap didn’t understand. As they came to the docks, she did have to admit that there was something pleasant about it: a sense of pleasant solitude, away from the dusty town. “You know,” she said, “you could probably sell the water.”

Scroll stopped. “Sell it?” he asked, a horrified expression crossing his face. “No. No no no. We’re not in this to make money.”

“So you just give it away,” said Tap. “And what does that get you?”

“What we ‘get’ isn’t what’s important,” said Scroll. “After all, it’s like the book says: you have to share, you–”

“You have to care,” droned Tap. “Yes, I did actually read your book – up to a point, anyway – but please, I’ve heard enough about the whole ‘how we do it in Equestria’ thing.” She turned around and looked at Scroll. Scroll had stopped stiff, unsure of what he should say. She sighed. “You know, I’m still not completely sure that Equestria really exists. A place where ponies play in the rain? Seriously, that’s impossible.”

“Well, we don’t use rain as a weapon,” said Scroll, shrugging. “Actually...” He paused, thinking. “Mom never let me play in the rain. Always worried I’d catch a cold...”

Tap shook her head and sat down on a crate.

___________

“What’s that?” asked Clip in the darkness.

“I think she sat on us,” said Barrel. “Do I let out the spiders now?”

“Not yet.”

___________

“Tap, I...” Scroll stopped.

“What?”

Scroll uneasily sat down next to her.

“Well, I was just thinking...” He said. “When our mission is over, White and I will be going back to Equestria. And we’ll be taking Clip back with us, and, well... I think you and your brother should come with us.”

___________

Barrel froze, his hoof still on the lid of the jar of spiders.

___________

“Excuse me?” asked Tap.

“Well...” said Scroll, fidgeting with his glasses. “Yeah.”

Tap stared at him. She stared at him for what must have been a good half of a minute before she laughed. “This is dumb. What would I do there?”

“Well, what would you like to do?”

“You... what do you mean?”

“Well...” Scroll shrugged. “Think about it. What kind of life would you like to lead? If you could do anything other than what you’re doing now, what would it be?”

Tap looked away from him, out to sea, out to Equestria. She thought.

I own a restaurant. I run the tavern pretty well, so I could run a restaurant. Except this one would be nicer. The ponies there wouldn’t be a bunch of rude drunks. Nothing too fancy, just a nice easy place to grab a bite to eat. Obviously, there are... unicorns and pegasi there, but I can get used to that. I mean, in Equestria they aren’t trying to wreck my house. Both with the customers and employees. Yeah, I can actually have other ponies working for me. I’ve got a couple waiters. A guy at the front who talks in a stupid accent. Barrel still helps me, of course, but a little less than normal. He’s got a little marefriend he’s really shy around, but they’re cute together...

She got up from the crate and walked over to the edge of the dock. Her body was tense, locked up and stiff from trying to keep herself from doing something stupid.

“Tap?” asked Scroll. “Are you okay?”

“Live in Equestria...” She muttered bitterly. “Me. Tap the whore.”

“Tap?”

Furiously, the mare whirled around. “How could I possibly live someplace like that? How could I even get used to it after living here my whole life?” She turned her head to the side. “How could I even deserve it? Deserve anything you’ve given me? And it gets worse...” Scroll leaned back on the crate as she returned her gaze to him, her eyes penetrating him. “You keep giving. You keep coming back to me, you and White keep making all these crazy efforts with the town and the island and probably with the other two if you get the chance, what with White’s stupid stunt with General Storm. And you can’t seem to get that maybe nopony here even deserves it.”

Scroll took a deep breath. “Does that really matter? Besides.” He smiled weakly. “I think you and your brother deserve it, if nopony else.”

She gave a sudden, snorty laugh. “That’s just because you don’t know me. There’s... there’s no way I could possibly live somewhere like that. Not me.” Her voice darkened, and she stared right at Scroll. “You know, on Hearth’s Warming Eve, when you gave me your mother’s locket, the absolute first thing I thought? I wondered how much money I could get if I sold it. And that same day when you and White were giving away toys, I saw Buzz. I hit him. Knocked him down, grilled him. I told him he was a little closet case and that he wanted White to do all those things he said he did. Made him run off and forget his present. Want to hear more?

“About a year ago a young mare came up to me, wanted to pay me to make love to her. I laughed at her, called her an ugly dyke. I remember the look on her face, and I remember I thought it was funny. And then I’ve blackmailed ponies. Seduced them, made them sleep with me, then soaked them for all they were worth so I wouldn’t tell their wives. Sometimes I went ahead and told them anyway, once I got all I could out of it.

“And then there’s the general. The general goes around bullying you and your friend, and you know what? I’m with him. I’ve been with him in all kinds of terrible ways. And even if I got... involved with you I’d still be sleeping with him. Because that’s what I am. A whore. And he’s paying. And if your friend White paid me I’d sleep with him, too.

“And my brother, my brother, my kid brother. I’ve lied to him about us the whole time. I’ve always lied to him about what I do. He hates what I do for a living, and I keep doing it. I always say it’s because I need to do it to support us, but sometimes I wonder if... if there isn’t another way. And every time I sleep with someone I know he hates himself for it.”

She laughed, rubbing her temple with her hoof. “It’s funny. I could soak you, get you to spend all your money on me, maybe even get your parents’ money, and you’d do it even if you didn’t get sex out of it. That’s the kind of thing I do. I lie, cheat, steal, sleep my way through life. And you. You’re just sitting there like you don’t have any idea what to say. You act like you love me, and why? Because one night I pretended to love you?”

Scroll’s mouth hung open just a little, in the way one holds themselves when they’re trying hard to think of the right words. Tap snorted in disgust and turned around, sitting and looking back out over the water. There were no ships in the docks. They were barren and empty, as was the sea before them.

Slowly, Scroll rose and approached her. “I think,” he said, sitting down beside, “that you’re much kinder than you think you are.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I mean, I’ve done some bad things too...”

“Like what?”

“Well...” He sighed. “I lied to a child.” He looked down at the water. “I told an awful lie to a child.”

___________

Clip paused his breathing.

___________

“He asked me if I had a lot of friends back home,” he said. “And I said I did. The truth is I don’t. I never had any friends back home. Not until I met Brother White.”

Tap didn’t say anything. She just scowled.

“When it comes to friends I have more here than I did at home,” said Scroll. “I have White. Barrel. And you.” He looked at her. He searched for something else to say.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, almost despairingly. “How can you want me? You said it isn’t so you can sleep with me, so what is it? Please, explain it to me. I don’t understand...”

“I’d do anything for you, Tap,” said Scroll. “I care about you. Just like I’d do anything for White. You’re not ‘Tap the whore’ to me. You’re special. You’re smart, kind, funny... I want to make you happy. I...”

“I can’t even have foals,” she said abruptly, cutting Scroll off. “I should be more... more like family to Barrel than I am. ‘Cause he’s the only family I have. He’s the only family I’ll ever have...”

Scroll was silent for a minute. Satisfied that there was nothing Scroll could say, she got up and turned to walk back up the dock.

“I should get back to the tavern,” she said. “There’s no telling how much trouble those two are in.”

Scroll stood up and turned. “Tap, wait.”

Tap stopped. A seagull had perched on the crate, looking at the two with a look of amusement and vague puzzlement.

“All these things you’re saying about yourself,” said Scroll, “that you think make you worthless. They don’t matter.”

“Why? Because you like me?”

“No.” Scroll shook his head. “Because you’re you.” They were silent for a moment. “At least...” He approached her. “Let me walk you back to your inn? I can pick up White there.”

“Well...” Tap thought. “Could we stop by the mission house on the way?”

___________

White had to work around the large, broken section of the counter. He couldn’t lay drinks on it, at any rate. Worse yet, it was getting late, and business was starting to pick up. All he could do was hope that Barrel got back soon. He was running out of beers and ales and the list had neglected to mention where more were located in the cellar. Presumably that would’ve been Barrel’s task.

Thankfully, Barrel burst in through the side door, out of breath. “Huff... Sorry.”

“Barrel?” asked White. “Where’ve you been? Oh, sorry...” He floated a mug over to an impatient customer.

“I... had... huhh... to go... to the bathroom.”

“The bathroom?” asked White. “You were gone for hours.”

Barrel stopped. “I...” He took a few deep breaths. “I had the trots.”

“Oh,” said White. “Eww.”

The front door opened and Tap and Scroll walked in.

“Hellooowhat the fuck?” exclaimed Tap at the sight of the counter.

“The, uh...” said Brother White, rubbing the back of his neck. “The general came in and I think I annoyed him again. I’m not completely sure how... Aside from that I think almost everything went fine. Though a lot of the customers said something about ‘fagging up the place...’” He shook his head. “So yeah... sorry about the counter.”

“He’ll probably help me get a new one,” laughed Tap. “Thank you, Scroll.”

“Thank you,” he said, turning back to White. “Clip was already in bed when I got back. So, ready to go?”

“Sure thing,” said White, stepping out from behind the counter. “Serving drinks is certainly an interesting change of pace. It’s fascinating, watching as somepony in front of you gets progressively, well...”

Scroll giggled. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go. We’ve got more work tomorrow.” He looked back at Tap. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” The two exchanged a smile before Scroll and White turned to leave. She watched as they exited the door, to return to the mission house and, Tap imagined, obliviously cuddle. Once the door shut she had a look at the counter, split in the middle where the general had struck it. “White needs to be more careful,” she said.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Barrel was just standing there. “Barrel?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

Barrel didn’t say anything. He just went up to his sister and hugged her.

___________

Back in the mission house, the membership list read as follows:

Brother Pearly White

Brother Scroll Page

Barrel

Bottle Top

Salty Streams

Brown Mound

Cock-Sure

Sorebutt

Faggy McFagfag

Tap

---

Chapter 23

General Quake had a problem. Ponies were beginning to talk.

Normally he didn’t care if other ponies talked about him.They could say whatever they liked, and he could beat the shit out of them if he didn’t like it. If a pony called him an asshole? Quake would beat the shit out of him. If a pony called Quake a brute? Quake would beat the shit out of him. If a pony said Quake was desperately overcompensating for something? Well, Quake could always complain to Tap about that, after he beat the shit out of him. Therefore, violence seemed at first to be the ideal solution to his new problem.

On his way back to his camp, he saw five young stallions – new meat shields for the army. Two of them he noticed were engaged in a conversation, one of them with an expression of mischievous glee and the other with a look of abject terror. This was where Quake got annoyed.

“Oh yeah,” said the gleeful one. “He likes to fuck the pretty ones, I hear. Better start getting ugly.”

“The fuck is this?” asked the general. The five young soldiers all wheeled around. The terrified one, however, kept his rear planted firmly on the ground. Quake, however ignored him and went straight for the one who had been talking. “You making funny out of me?” The smiled dropped right from the soldier’s face. “You think I’m a funny guy, you cocksucker?”

“Well, no, I, uh...” the soldier stammered. Quake, however, didn’t give him the chance to fumble for an excuse. He grabbed the soldier by the scruff of the neck, and as he frantically cried “wait, WAIT!” he hurled him into the air. The four soldiers watched, slack-jawed, as their companion went careening over the town. The general turned to them.

“So, anyone else think I’m fucking funny?”

The others just stared at him, save for the one who was sitting terrified on the ground. Quake snorted at him.

“Well? Get up.”

“Please don’t rape me...” the soldier sniveled.

Quake slammed a hoof into the ground, and the earth shook. The soldiers stumbled, with the sitting one jumping to his feet.

“I don’t fuck you,” said Quake, “I beat the shit out of you. Knock it off and I won’t have a reason. Got it?”

“Y-yes sir!”

“Good,” said General Quake. “Now stop stammering and fuck off.”

The soldiers scurried off into the camp, and the general followed shortly after.

He entered his tent, looking at the map of the town on his table. Two things were on his mind. First: King Horner was up to something. There would be an attack soon. Second: he was going to kill Brother White. Not now, but eventually, when the moment came that White just pissed him off so much that he wouldn’t bother with his “we don’t want an incident” policy. But for the time being, he was going to have to do something very, very painful...

___________

“...And so...” Brother White looked up from his book at the congregation.

Said congregation consisted of Brother Scroll, Clip, Bottle Top (unconscious), and one bored mare who was obviously only there for the free water and eggs. She had, in fact, finished her eggs, and rather than wait for the end of Brother White’s sermon, she got up and left with her complimentary jug of water.

“Right, just...” White mumbled, trying to get his mind in the right state. “Have a nice day!”

“Well, at least she stayed a little while...” said Scroll. “Y’know... maybe we should require that they sign up before we give them water.”

“Isn’t that like...” White said. “...Extant... exterior...”

“Extortion?” Scroll found the word.

“Well, yeah.”

“I guess...” Scroll shook his head. “Yeah, we can’t do that... you know, maybe we should ask Barrel and Tap for...”

Clip, sulking, got out of his seat in a huff and marched back into the bunk room. Scroll and White looked at him uneasily.

“I think he’s upset about something,” said White.

“I don’t know what, though,” said Scroll. “All of a sudden he just got all... sulky.” He thought. “Did we forget his birthday?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hmm.”

___________

Clip just sat in his upper bunk, scowling down at the crayon-and-colored pencil drawing he had done before. The drawing was a crude approximation of Brothers White and Scroll, together and smiling. They were in love. Clip was there in the picture, too, also smiling and happy.

And now he knew that wouldn’t happen.

There was a knock at the door.

“Clip?” asked Scroll. “Can I come in?”

“Go away!” said Clip.

Scroll slowly opened the door, peering inside. “Is something the matter?” he asked softly.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“No.”

Scroll stood at the doorway for a minute as Clip went back to sulking in his bunk. Clip didn’t look at him, instead just staring down at his picture. But eventually, Clip did speak.

“You lied to me.”

Scroll’s posture sank and his eyes lowered. “So you overheard,” he said.

“You don’t have tons of friends back home,” said Clip. “You don’t have any at all.”

Scroll looked down at the floor. “No I don’t,” he said. He walked into the room and sat down on his own bunk. “I wasn’t one of the cool colts. I was one of the uncool ones, the ones who sat at a table alone at lunch, the dweeb who could never talk to anyone because of a lack of common interests. I got made fun of, too. So no. I didn’t have any friends. Not any close ones, anyway.”

Clip sat and listened, a childish scowl on his face.

“That’s part of why I joined the Fraternity,” he said. “I thought I’d make some friends there. Well... that isn’t important, really.”

“Why did you tell me?” Clip asked. “If it wasn’t true.”

“I...” Scroll took a breath. “I wanted you to like me,” he said. “I wanted you to look up to me. But I guess if I have to be that petty I don’t deserve to be looked up to.” He got up from the bunk. “I guess that’s all I can say. I’m sorry I lied, Clip. You deserve better than that.”

Clip lifted his head from the bunk and watched as Scroll made his way towards the door. And he asked, “Why are you going out with her?”

Scroll stopped. “With Tap?”

“Yeah,” said Clip. “I mean, she’s a girl.”

“Well...” Scroll shrugged. “That’s what a lot of colts do around my age. They start going out with girls. And Tap, well... it’s sort of hard to explain...”

“I don’t like girls,” said Clip, sulking. “They’re mean and icky and they don’t make sense.”

“Clip,” said Scroll, “that is not a healthy attitude to take towards the feminine persuasion.”

“I don’t know what that means,” said Clip.

“Look,” explained Scroll, “I get that you might not like girls right now. Back when I was your age I didn’t like them either. Hay, even now I’m still more comfortable around stallions...”

Clip lifted his head hopefully.

“...But it’s a part of life. Besides,” he said with a shrug. “You know Tap. You like her; she’s nice.”

“But I don’t want her for a mom.”

“Well...” Scroll lifted one foreleg and rubbed his other. “It’s a bit early to be talking about anything like that...” But his face lowered despondently, another one of those lost expressions that wanted so much to help but unable to find the right thing to say. All he could do was feel miserable, both for Clip’s position and for what he’d done to the little guy.

“I don’t want any mom,” Clip lowered his head again back to the drawing. He stared at it. The crude representations of the missionaries just looked so happy and loving together and he couldn’t help himself. “I just want my two daddies...” he whimpered.

Scroll didn’t know what to say. He stood there, his expression as sad and confused as Clip’s.

Brother White popped his head into the room. “I hear something about moms?” he asked.

Clip lifted his head again and glared at them. “My mom threw me off the cloud,” he said bitterly. “I don’t want another one.”

___________

A pink colt looked down over the edge of the clouds, his wings flexing. He was nervous. Sooner than later, he would have to fly on his own, or die.

He backed away from the edge, his wings clasped close to his sides, when he bumped into something. He slowly turned around and found himself staring at the towering figure of Captain Tempest.

“Well, hey there,” said the captain, “shouldn’t you be practicing in a bit safer place? Like the practice arena?”

“I can’t fly well with the others,” said the colt. “They pick on me.”

“Well, why should they pick on my little boy?” asked Tempest. “You just tell them that you’re Cumulonimble, and they better remember that.”

“They do remember that,” he said. “And they keep laughing at me.”

Captain Tempest sat down, lowering his head to that of the colt’s.

“They say I’m a joke and I’m gonna die soon...” said Cumulonimble.

“You’re not gonna die, Nimble,” said Tempest, rubbing his head. “I don’t think you could get killed if you tried!” He smiled warmly as Nimble snickered. “You’re just getting started, kid. You’re gonna do me and your mother proud.”

Nimble’s smile dropped. “Mom won’t be proud.”

“Sure she will,” said Tempest.

“She doesn’t like anything I do!” the colt complained. “And she just watches when the other colts and fillies pick on me and she looks like she’s mad, but she’s mad at me.”

“Your mother has...” Tempest searched for the right words. “A different outlook than I do. C’mon.” He lifted Cumulonimble onto his back and began his walk through the clouds. Around them the other pegasi went about their duties – some pegasi were building black clouds, a small group of them were practicing hoof-to-hoof combat, and still others were building their wing strength through weight-lifting exercises.

“They think I’m weak,” said Nimble. “That I’m not good enough to be a soldier. I mean...” He looked at his flank. Clouds with smiley faces.

“There are a lot of different meanings of ‘weak,’ Nimble,” said Tempest. “But from my experiences, the best soldiers aren’t necessarily the ones who can lift the heaviest weights, or fly the fastest or the farthest. Being a good soldier, or being a good pony, even, isn’t about having the best abilities. It’s about what you do with what you have. Things like courage and ambition will take you a lot farther than simply having the strongest wings or the best aim.”

“But,” said the colt, “I don’t know if I want to be a soldier. I... I don’t think I want to fight.”

Captain Tempest stopped. “I wish that were possible.”

“Captain Tempest!” barked a voice. The colt cringed, but the captain, calm and unflappable, turned to face the general. “What are you doing?”

“Just having a little talk, sir,” said Tempest. Despite it being formal military, Nimble never really got used to the ‘sir’ address.

“I don’t want you mollycoddling the colt like that,” she said. Cumulonimble, embarrassed both for himself and the captain, hopped off of his back and slinked out of their way. “You keep that up and he’ll get killed.” She walked up to him. “Do you want that? Do you think I want that?”

“I was under the impression that you didn’t care,” said the captain.

In a flash, Storm reared onto her hind legs and struck the captain across the face with her hoof. He reeled back, covering his face, but blood was showing.

“Don’t,” she snarled, nostrils flaring, “ever talk to me like that! You understand? Stand at attention!”

Tempest slowly lowered his hoof, revealing a cut running right across his eye. “Understood, sir,” he said.

___________

The missionaries sat on either side of the kitchen table. Clip sat between them, looking over a mug of hot cocoa. A dull whisp of steam trailed out of the mug. Clip sniffed, breathing in the aroma.

“Thanks,” he said. He looked at Brother White, mostly ignoring Scroll.

“Feeling better?” asked White.

Clip sipped his hot chocolate, biting out a marshmallow. He nodded.

“I, uh...” Scroll sensed he wasn’t very welcome and volunteered to leave the kitchen. “I’ll just go to the main room in case somepony stops by.”

White extended a hoof. “Clip, I’m sorry to hear about...”

“It’s okay,” said Clip. “I mean, if that hadn’t happened I wouldn’t be having cocoa...” He looked up at White. “I don’t want a mom anymore. I just want you and...”

“Listen, I know that, well...” White searched for the right words. “I know you’ve been through... more than Scroll or I have ever been through. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like. And I know you’re hurt because Scroll lied to you and because you think he’s... betraying you by going out with a girl. But...” He placed a hoof on his shoulder. “We all make mistakes. I’ve told lies. Once, when I was a colt, I snuck into the kitchen at night and stole from the cookie jar. I blamed my little brother Vanilla, and, well... this is the first time I’ve been honest about that.”

Clip looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow.

A soft rumbling caught White’s attention, and he turned his face to the kitchen door.

“Whiiite?” called Scroll’s voice.

“You still got pancakes?” asked another voice.

“Hold on,” said White, getting up. “Enjoy your cocoa.” He headed for the door and cautiously peered out it.

In the main room a crowd had gathered – Quake’s soldiers. Scroll was sitting in a chair against the wall, nervously fidgeting with his tie. White looked to the soldiers, who were all variously sitting down in chairs or idly looking at the wall fixtures.

“Did we do something wrong again?” asked White.

One of the soldiers, a tall brown earth pony with an earth-red mane, answered. “We’re here to sign up.”

Scroll stopped fidgeting with his tie, the cloth wrapped around his hooves. White quietly pushed the door open a little more. “Is this a joke?”

“Not really,” answered the soldier. “General Quake sent us here.”

Earlier in the mission, White would have been ecstatic. As it was, the scenario was just so surreal that he could scarcely comprehend it was happening. “Huh,” he grunted, as though in a stupor.

“Oh,” said Scroll. “Oh!” He laughed. “I get it, it’s the supplies!”

“Oh yeah,” said White. “That makes sense. Ahem.”

White stood and looked around the room, eyeing each of the soldiers. They all wore various expressions, ranging from “vaguely curious” to “please let’s get this over with.”

“Well,” White said. “Let’s just get you all signed in. Then we’ll get each of you a book and we can begin reading.”

“And real names this time,” confirmed Scroll.

___________

General Quake stared at the photograph. Scroll and White were there, dead-center, White with that cocksucking grin of his. The little shitwing was seated on White’s back. And then behind them was the crowd of soldiers, very few of whom seemed to be making an effort to take an earnest picture.

He looked up. The missionaries were sitting there with hopeful expressions.

“Stop fucking smiling,” said Quake. The missionaries quickly complied. Unfortunately White’s cutie mark didn’t go away. Quake grumbled and looked over the letter and copy of the roster that went with the photo. “So once the fag club gets this we’ll be getting supplies again?”

“Yep,” said White.

“And we should be getting stoves,” added Scroll, “so we should be able to get more water machines and then...” The missionaries looked at each other. “We’re in business!”

“Good,” said Quake. “Now get the fuck out of my camp.”

Scroll and White were almost in a hurry to comply, not only because of a general risk to avoid bodily harm, but also because they were eager to send their letter.

As they went down the road to the docks, White floated the envelope in front of them. “They’re gonna respond well to this, right?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Scroll. “I mean, they signed up, and they’ll be attending future meetings. Though I’m not sure how enthusiastically they’ll take the lessons considering they’re sort of forced to...” He saw White’s expression turn to something a little more worried. “They can learn!” he added hastily. “Still, if the Fraternity responds well to this and sends the stoves, then I think we have a chance!”

White nodded. “That’s good, that’s goo–UH!” He tripped on a box in the middle of the road and the envelope slipped from his magic grasp. It fluttered away. On the side of the road was an open shop – a smith, with a furnace for the metal. The door to the furnace was open, and the envelope slowly wafted towards the open flame.

“NO!” cried Scroll. With a heroic leap, he jumped over the smith and caught the envelope in his teeth just before it crossed the fatal threshold. With the letter safe, he let out a relieved sigh – not forgetting to keep his teeth closed – and continued on their way to the docks.

“Good catch there,” said White. “For a moment I thought that we’d get hit with some kind of cruel ironic twist.”

“Hey, why don’t you drop your pants, faggots?”

“Is it too late for irony?” Scroll asked under his breath.

Sure enough, Buzz had spotted them and was trotting up behind them. White turned around and cocked a dubious eyebrow. “Uhh, we don’t wear pants,” he said. “Seriously, all these insults go right over my head.”

“Maybe cause that’s, uh, what you’re giving head!” said Buzz.

Scroll looked at him with a painfully dull expression.

“That means you suck cocks,” explained Buzz.

Scroll just resumed walking, and White followed suit.

“So what’s that?” asked Buzz. “More gay pictures of you having gay sex?”

“Well...” said Scroll, ignoring the little twit, “I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“Clip,” said Scroll, his head sagging. “He probably hates me...”

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you,” said Brother White.

“Everypony hates you, you little faggots,” jeered Buzz.

“Just, well...” White tried to find the delicate word. “Disappointed, I guess.”

Buzz continued to hurl annoying, uncreative insults at the pair as they left the thickest part of the town and got to the docks. The polite postpony at the boat took their letter with a smile, clearly oblivious to how shitty the town was.

“I think,” said White, “this will show how we’re starting a major turnaround.”

“Uh-huh,” said the pony. He spotted Buzz. “This that kid you took in?”

“Are you a faggot too?” asked Buzz.

“No,” said Scroll. “Completely different.”

White turned around and looked at the kid. “You know,” he said, “I really don’t get it, why do you keep doing this? What is it that makes you tick?”

“Vaginas,” Buzz responded a little too quickly.

The other pony stood there with the envelope in his mouth. “No wonder you’re having trouble,” he said, before quickly stepping onto the boat. White and Scroll watched the ship pull away, a sense of calm and hope overriding Buzz’s obnoxious antics.

“What, you gonna kiss now?” he eventually asked.

White turned around. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” he asked. “Hobbies? Family game night? Chores? Parents who pay attention to what you do? I mean, is there a point here?”

“Now, now, White,” said Scroll, “we’re in a happy place, let’s not spoil it.” He glanced at Buzz, then at White again, and got an idea. “Besides, I think now’s a good time to celebrate.” He nuzzled his partner. “Don’t you think so?”

White nuzzled him right back. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” said Scroll. “You... me... alone...”

Buzz’s mouth dropped open in horror. “Oh, fuck this!” he said, turning around. “I’m outta here, faggots!”

White looked over at Scroll, who was grinning sheepishly. White raised a vaguely perplexed eyebrow. “Well, it got rid of him,” Scroll reasoned. “Still, I do have something in mind...”

___________

Tap noticed that she was feeling quite chipper, and couldn’t quite place why. Maybe she had gotten a good night’s sleep and was feeling rested. Maybe it was because someone had smiled at her out of genuine warmth instead of lewdness. Maybe it was because Barrel seemed to be doing okay. Whatever the reason, she felt pretty good, and even caught herself humming as she went out for her errands.

One of those errands was to grab a barrel of water from the missionaries. She wondered whether she should start calling Scroll her coltfriend. After all, the guy had a crush on her, and she did like him. The two certainly enjoyed spending time together.

She decided to just leave that to whenever Scroll wanted to “talk about ‘us’” and entered the mission house. Clip was sitting in the corner, puzzling over a page in a book. He looked up at her.

“Well, hey kiddo,” said Tap. Clip looked at her uneasily, before turning back to his book. Tap shrugged and looked towards the kitchen.

“I don’t get it,” said Clip. “How do I know if it’s supposed to be ‘wander’ or ‘wonder’?”

Tap laughed. “Well, think of the word ‘won’ and think of how you say and spell that.”

“Okay,” said Clip, looking back at the book. As Tap headed for the kitchen door, he spoke again – “Wait, ‘won’ like in what you do in a game or ‘one’ like two and three?”

Tap chuckled. “Like in a game.” She raised a hoof to the door and started to push it open.

Clip sharply looked up. “Wait–”

“Hey,” said Tap, “I’m just getting a barrel of...” She stopped that sentence when she opened the door and saw what was in the kitchen. Oh.

The missionaries had set up a bathtub at the receiving end of the water machine and filled it with water. Scroll lay back, his eyes closed – his glasses laid on the counter – softly humming to himself. White, meanwhile, was out of sight, presumably due to the mountain of bubbles.

Scroll turned onto his side and his eyes fluttered open. Upon seeing Tap, his eyes shot open and he sat up.

“Tap!”

“Tap?” White’s head emerged from the tub, a thick layer of bubbles coating his horn and giving him a bubble-beard.

Tap blinked. “Well,” she said, “why do you have the bathtub in here?”

“Eheheeh...” Scroll said. “Too much work to move all the water.”

“As opposed to the bathtub?”

“At least it was only one trip.” White shrugged.

Tap walked over to a seat and planted herself, observing the missionaries’ activities. “Any particular reason?”

“Hygiene?” White suggested.

“Go into the main room,” said Scroll. “Check the membership list.”

Tap didn’t really want to get up from her seat, but she figured they weren’t going to do anything fun in front of her. They probably weren’t doing anything fun in the first place, she realized. Just oblivious as usual.

She walked back into the main room and up to the front desk, and it didn’t take her more than a glance to notice that the first page of the membership list had been completely filled, to say nothing of the fact that there were now multiple pages. On closer examination, she found that almost none of them were fake names. She walked back into the kitchen, not completely sure how to take the bizarre array of events.

“You got Quake’s guys to sign up,” she said.

“Actually,” said Scroll, “Quake got them to sign up.”

Tap blinked. “What?” she asked.

“Always knew he liked me,” said White.

“And...” Scroll leaned eagerly over the edge of the bathtub. “We’ve sent in the membership list and a great big group photo.”

“I know what I’d like pictures of...” Tap mumbled.

“Aaaaaand,” Scroll continued, “that means that the Fraternity will know our mission is doing better, and that means that they’ll start sending more supplies, and that means we can get the stoves, and that means more water machines, meaning more water, and BAM!” He struck the surface of the water, splashing bubbles all over the floor. He sat still for a minute. “Eheh... Back in business. And we can do free breakfasts again.”

Tap chuckled, sitting down in the seat and watching them. White raised an eyebrow.

“What are you grinning at?” he asked.

“Nothin’,” said Tap. “Just keep doing what you were doing.”

“What, you wanted to watch me wash his hooves?” White asked.

“Mm-hmm...”

“Don’t ask,” said Scroll, taking to scrub himself with a bar of soap.

“Guuuys?” called another voice from the main room. “Guys!” Barrel burst through the door. “There’s a– oh.”

“Out, Barrel,” said Tap, nonplussed. “You aren’t old enough to watch.”

“The thbit...” Barrel sputtered, shaking his head.

“What’s going on?” asked White.

BOOM! The sound of cannons roared from outside. The room fell silent as the cannons continued to fire.

“Monarch,” said Barrel. At that all three ponies sat up. “His fortress. It just showed up.”

The missionaries scrambled out of the bathtub, splashing soapy water all over the kitchen floor. White grabbed a towel from the counter and began drying his mane as Scroll went for his glasses, nearly slipping on the bar of soap.

The missionaries clumsily tumbled out of the kitchen, with Tap – who might have been laughing were it not for news of the unicorns attacking – following behind.

They rushed outside the mission house, but they found that there was no battle raging. The cannons were firing, but there were no gunfights in the street.

“Look there,” said Barrel, pointing out to the sea.

Monarch’s Fortress hovered over the sea, unmoving, just out of range of the cannons, as evidenced by the splashes that came from the water as the cannonballs fell short of their mark. It merely floated there, as if taunting General Quake for being unable to bring it down.

Beneath the fortress was a thin pillar of light, slowly pulsating. With each pulse, a giant ripple emerged from the sea, sending waves towards the island. They looked down at the docks, watching as the waves lapped up onto the decks.

Scroll then remembered something. He remembered what General Monarch had said when he offered Brother White the chance to join him, taunting General Quake as he did so.

Water shortage? I think I can do something about that.

“Oh Celestia...” he muttered in horror.

“What?” asked Barrel. “What is it?”

“He...” Scroll stammered, as the other eyes turned to gaze on him.

“He what?” asked White.

Scroll took a deep breath and stared at the fortress, as the pillar of light continued to pulse.

“He’s going to flood the island.”

---

Chapter 24

White, Scroll, Tap, Barrel, and Clip all stood and stared at the sight. The scene was so surreal it was hard to fully comprehend. The fortress, sitting so still in the sky, was at a stark contrast with the roaring sounds of cannons and panicked ponies. Save for the ominous, pulsing pillar of light, the castle seemed almost serene.

“He’s going to flood the island.”

White looked around, his mind racing towards the usual conclusion: “All right,” he said, “We just got to get as many ponies into the mission house as usual, and–”

“That won’t work,” said Scroll. “If they flood the island, the mission house won’t be any safer than anywhere else.”

“Unbelievable...” said Tap. “I fucked around a dozen soldiers for that balcony.”

“What do we do?” asked Barrel.

Nopony had any idea. Clip stuck to White’s hind leg, as everyone racked their brains, trying to drum up some sort of spark. Then Scroll’s face lit up.

“The mountain,” he said. “The mountain at the center of the island. There are caves there. If anywhere on the island will be safe, it’s there.”

“Worth a shot,” said Tap.

“We have to tell the general,” said White.

“But–” Tap started, but White wouldn’t hear any dissent. He made a break down the road.

“General Quake!” he called. “General Quake!”

There were only soldiers on the street now, giving him a few puzzled glances. White looked around, trying to find the general.

He saw the general, standing tall and imposing in his armor and guns fixed to his sides. General Quake was fixing for a battle, and he was going to enjoy it, or at least feel something that was as close to “enjoyment” as was possible for him.

“General Quake!” White called again. Quake’s ears pricked up – he recognized that annoying tenor.

“Fuck...” General Quake muttered.

“General, you have to listen to me,” said White.

“Can’t I just have one fucking day where you don’t prance in front of me?” The General snorted. “Do you just enjoy pissing me off? Is that it?”

“Please...” said White. “You have to get everypony out of here.”

The general looked to his hapless lieutenant, who shrugged pathetically. “Huh?”

“Monarch is gonna flood the town,” explained White. “If we can get everyone into the caves on the mountain...”

“No,” said General Quake, brushing past him. “That’s fucking stupid. I’m not gonna run from King Horner like some kinda pussy. Move the cannons, dipshits.”

“But sir!” White called.

The general turned around. “Didn’t hear me? Are you gay and retarded? Nopony is allowed up there unless I say so.”

“Well then...” intoned White in a voice as low as his tenor would allow. “Say so.”

Quake ignored him and moved on to his soldiers. “Well get bigger cannons if these ones aren’t hitting!”

White stood and watched as General Quake walked by, barking orders at the soldiers. The unicorn stood, his eyes fixed on the general, and it seemed as though the entire world was drowned out as one burning, righteous thing escaped his mouth.

“You talked to me about saving lives!”

The general stopped and slowly, slowly turned. He glared at Brother White with a twisted, perplexed expression consisting of contempt and confusion. Even the cannons seemed oddly quiet as he glared down at the missionary. White almost felt as though his breathing were louder than the explosions.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he asked, walking up to him with a flint-hard galre.

“Back at the last attack,” said White. “When I refused, you talked to me about saving lives. Well you know something?” The general was standing in front of him, glaring down. White wondered if the general could knock over a pony by snorting hard enough at him. “This is saving lives. Get everypony out of the town. Get them into the caves on the mountain, high above the town. If you do this, nopony is going to die today.”

“Did you hit your horn on something and send it back into your brain?” Quake asked. “I’m the fucking general. I’m in charge, and you do not give orders to me. We retreat, they wipe out the town.”

“They’ll wipe out the town whether you leave or not!” White shouted back. He froze. He had just interrupted the general. Balking at the realization, he backed up.

The general stood, not completely sure of what to do. He could easily just ignore the unicorn or beat him up. Hell, he could probably just stomp his foot and scare him off and go about what he was doing. But out of the corner of his eye he saw the other soldiers, standing, waiting for his verdict.

“Well, he’s got a point,” said the lieutenant. Quake looked at him with a face so flatly unreadable that it was almost comical rather than intimidating. “I mean,” the lieutenant continued. “I think, well...” There were some murmurs of agreement among the soldiers.

“Quiet!” Quake hissed, silencing his troops. “Get everypony out of the town,” he growled.

___________

“Barrel!” yelled Tap from the bottom of the stairs. “What are you doing? We have to get out here!”

Her brother appeared at the top of the stairs, clutching the stuffed seagull in his mouth. “Rdih!” he called back down.

Tap turned and went for the door, the sound of stomping hoofsteps reassuring her that Barrel was right behind. She opened the door and stood in the doorway, looking at the ominous fortress in the sky.

“Are you afraid?” Barrel asked. The doll sat on his back, just like a regular seabird.

“I should be,” said Tap. “But after a while these things, even the really awful stuff, get so commonplace that you just sort of get used to it.” She stepped out of the doorway. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Ponies were filing out into the streets, guided by the soldiers, many of whom were wondering why they had been asked to direct traffic. Tap and Barrel made their way out into the crowds, Barrel’s stuffed seagull clenched in his mouth.

“Shit,” said Tap, “it’s like the general actually got organized with something.”

“Everyone get to the caves!” called the soldier. “Stay in line and go where the soldiers direct you.”

The ponies did not form much of a “line” so much as a thinly-directed amorphous blob of ponies, taking the trek out of the town and into the forest to the mountain in the middle of the island.

“And if we tell you to keep out of someplace,” said another soldier. “We mean stay out. We will fire if...”

“Tap!” called a voice. She turned and looked through the crowd to find Scroll, poking his head through whatever gaps he could. “Excuse me... sorry... coming through...” he said meekly, trying to push ahead through the crowd. “Tap!” he gasped, breaking through the mass. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking over at Barrel. “We’re fine.” She groaned. “I’m still sore about what this means for the tavern. I knew it was gonna get knocked down sooner or later, but now I just feel cheated.”

“I just hope everypony makes it out of here safely,” said Scroll. “I can’t believe that the general actually...”

“Well, I’ll believe it when it actually happens.”

___________

“Okay, now I believe it.”

The ponies milled around the caves where they were allowed. The place was crowded, packed with more ponies than Quake had ever intended to be there. Quake wasn’t too thrilled about needing to share his special military space with the local populace, so he kept them corralled where it was convenient, away from whatever armories or explosives he had hauled away in the mountains. He certainly didn’t want any unwelcome ponies near that water machine. The ponies themselves were confused, unaccustomed to being suddenly ordered out of their homes. Still, many could easily reason that here was a better place than in the town at the moment. All they could do was wait for it to be over.

Barrel sat in the corner, his stuffed seagull tucked beneath his arm as he watched the crowd of ponies staring out the mouth of the cave. The fortress was continuing its ominous pounding of the sea beneath it, the pillar of light looking like something out of one of Brother Scroll’s cheesy sci-fi comic books. Then, there was one blinding flash of light, and once their eyesight returned, they saw a towering wall of water hurtling towards the island.

All of the ponies would later recount how slowly it seemed to approach, until it crashed down over the docks, enveloping the entire town. Houses floated away from their foundations, the walls splintering like twigs beneath a stomping hoof, the hard work of strong backs negated in a matter of seconds.

After that, everything was silent. The fortress stood, cold and immobile in the sky, and the ponies stared at the waterlogged wreckage, hardly able to believe it. So far away on the cliff, it seemed unreal. The town was completely flooded, with roofs barely poking, lopsided out of the water. No buildings were still standing, not even the supposedly safe mission house.

The missionaries stood near the edge, with Clip at White’s hooves.

“Brother White?” asked Clip. “Where are we gonna stay now?”

“We’ll think of something...” said White.

Scroll stood off to the side, trembling at the sight. “Oh Celestia...” he moaned. “What do we do now? What about my books? What about the library?”

The ponies were starting to mumble. The uncertainty was starting to hit. Rebuilding was bad enough as it was usually, but what if everything had been wiped out? What would they do then? Worse yet, the rubble had dammed the water up, keeping the water in the town. Not only had the town been ruined, but it would take even more demolition to restore the land to conditions that were suitable for building again.

“Everyone in the cave!” called a soldier.

The crowd stirred, with varying cries of “what?”, “for how long?”, and “but our homes!”

“General’s orders!” the soldier resumed.

The general’s massive frame loomed from the mouth of the cave, still decked in his armored saddle and guns. “Everyone’s gonna get in and shut the fuck up,” he said. “You’ll stay here until I say so. Now move in.”

Still mumbling, the crowd of ponies shuffled into the cave. The missionaries still stared at the wreckage of the town, with Clip looking up at Brother White.

“White?” Clip asked.

“Hey, kid,” said Quake. “I said get inside.”

The missionaries turned around, faced with the scowling general.

“Come on, Clip,” said White. “Let’s head inside.”

“Not you,” growled the general. “You stay out here. You,” he looked at Scroll, “and the pinko colt get inside.”

There was a pregnant pause while the missionaries exchanged confused glances.

“I said get the fuck inside,” said Quake. “Are you gay and retarded?”

“You already used that one...” said White.

“NOW!”

Scroll slunk and scurried forward, Clip following a distance behind. Scroll stopped at the mouth of the cave and looked back uneasily. White gave him a reassuring nod – Scroll paused, looking back and forth with an unconvinced expression, before disappearing into the darkness. Quake stood stock still, his bristling firearms threatening anything and anyone he was facing.

“Bet you thought that was real fucking funny, didn’t you?” he asked. “Humiliating me in front of my soldiers like that.”

“You could’ve just blown me off,” said White.

“You have no idea how much you fucking piss me off, do you?” Quake stepped forward, each time a menacing thud sounding from his hooves as they advanced over the stone, forcing White to back away from him. “Let me explain one thing. If you ever pull that shit again...”

White stopped. His back hoof had brushed off the edge of the cliff, and he looked down at the trees below.

“I’ll forget about your Fraternity. I’ll forget about your friends and your princess and whatever the fuck else there is back in candyland...”

“That’s a fun place, went there for my birthday...”

“If you fuck with me in front of my troops again, I will fucking kill you,” growled the general. “You got that?”

White looked back at the general, standing in front of him like a giant statue that wanted to kill him. If Quake had let out a quick breath of air he might’ve caused White to topple over the edge. He took a quiet gulp and nodded.

“Good. Remember it,” snorted the general. He turned and walked back towards the cave, leaving White where he stood.

White started to follow, but then paused. He looked back at the destruction and saw a small light coming from the fortress. A hot pressure grew in his head, furrowing his brow, and without warning, he raced down the path back to the town.

___________

Scroll sat on the floor, waiting, as Quake came back. General Quake looked at him, Clip, Tap, and her brother, all of whom had set themselves up in the cave and had been looking in his direction.

“The fuck are you looking at?” he asked.

“We’re waiting for White,” said Scroll.

Quake snorted, looking back. “He’s right... huh. Fucker ain’t there.” He blinked. “The fuck did he go?”

The others looked at each other, with confused and worried looks.

“Wait... he couldn’t’ve...” Scroll muttered. He shot up. “I gotta find him!”

“Me too!” Clip piped up.

“No,” said Scroll. “Stay here with Tap and Barrel,” he said, looking at the other two. “Stay here until it’s safe to leave.”

“Why should I?” asked Clip.

“Clip, please,” said Scroll. “Stay here. Stay where it’s safe.” He looked back out toward the entrance. “I gotta go!”

“Hey!” shouted Quake as Scroll burst past him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Following him!”

___________

White galloped as hard and fast as his legs would carry him. They burned and ached, but he kept pressing on. Down he went, down the side of the mountain, into the forest. The earth grew damp, and then, muddy, until he began running through water as he got closer and closer to the town, or what was left of it.

The destruction he’d been used to. By this point he could bear to see if the blacksmith’s had been destroyed, or if the peach stand failed to return afterwards. White slowed as he began to wade through the water. He drew in deep breaths, tired from the running but still pressing onwards. He plodded through the water before missing a step and slipping, splashing into the water. Gasping for air, he pulled himself out, his mane now drenched in the sea water.

No buildings remained standing. Neither the carpenter shop, nor the bakery

What had once been a roof floated past him, and he climbed on, panting and heaving. He hauled himself into it and looked up at the light floating down from the fortress, glaring, his nostrils flared.

The light danced and floated down to the roof.

“Well,” said a low, familiar voice, “fancy seeing you here.” The light dimmed, materializing into the form of the unicorn general. “No dead bodies here to greet me,” he said. “Such a shame. I was looking forward to picking off the swimmers.”

“You... wiped out... the entire... town...” White gasped.

“Yes I did,” said Monarch, his mouth curling into a cruel smile. “I must say, I’m rather pleased with how it went.”

White stared at him, not moving except for his expanding and contracting belly, heaving with every breath he took. “Why?”

Monarch’s eyes narrowed deviously. “When one such as myself has as much... power as I do, it is only prudent to display it. If you don’t, then you don’t really have any power. You have to show it to keep it. So I come here, to this island, to show the dirts what I can do. But it doesn’t really matter. It’s merely a testing ground for my other plans.”

White hadn’t moved during all this. “You... you made a spell...” His head lowered in disgust. “To cause a wave to wipe out an entire city... as a test?”

“Yes,” said Monarch, his eyes alight. “And we have so many more. The Cannon Engine, for one, until the earth ponies stole it. They probably lost or broke it. But we have more, things that you arrived too late to witness for yourself. The Quenchless Fire, and the Plague of Dreams. The Famine Weeds, and the Storm’s Eye, and the Bane of Summer.”

White was silent, his legs locked and his mouth open ever so slightly. Monarch took on a self-satisfied smirk. “We have more,” he said. “More things are coming. More great, terrible things. And here you are. Have you decided to accept my offer?”

“I’m here to tell you,” said White. “I’m here to tell you that what you are doing is evil.”

Monarch laughed. “Oh, still keeping up the preacher act?”

“That’s my job as a missionary,” said White. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you before: Stop the attacks on this island.”

“Or what?” asked Monarch.

“There is no ‘or,’” said Brother White. “Stop the attacks. Please. For all our sakes.”

Monarch let out a low chuckle. “Oh, I’ll stop the attacks here, when I’m good and done. And you’re going to come with me.”

“What?” asked White. “Are you gonna kidnap me?”

“No, I don’t need to do that,” said Monarch. “When you come to me, it will be of your own free will.”

“Fat chance,” said White. “I have a job here. I have my friends here. I have Brother Scroll here. Why would I ever go with you?”

“Safety, perhaps,” the general suggested, the smug smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

White’s thoughts turned to some of his more harrowing experiences: the lynching attempt, the shooting, and the near-execution at the hooves of some soldiers all stuck out in his mind.

“General Quake can’t like you,” said Monarch. “In fact, I’d say the only thing stopping him is the fact that you are... a diplomatic party, is it? And he fears retaliation from Equestria.”

White remained silent.

“Now, consider this: when my wave came, where was your mission house? Or rather, where is your mission house?” He tapped the wooden roof beneath his hoof. “Underwater, I presume, in several fragments. Now then...” He smirked again. “What, exactly, is your Fraternity going to do about that?”

There was another silence.

“Nothing, I imagine,” said Monarch. “And when nothing happens, I wonder how long it will take for our good friend General Quake to realize that there will be no more repercussions for what he might do to you than there are for me. And then, Brother White, what will stand between you and he?”

White shook a little, wondering, what if the general was right? What if it truly wasn’t safe for him anymore?

Then, behind the general, he saw a shape, wading through the water, clinging to the debris – Brother Scroll, desperately swimming, looking at Brother White with a pleading look on his face.

“Well?” asked the unicorn general.

“Well what?” asked White. “It’s still ‘no.’”

The general’s smile twitched, faltering ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth.

“Am I supposed to be scared by that?” asked White. “I’ve been scared since I got here, ever since I saw a pony murdered in front of me. The ponies here have threatened me, yes. They’ve even tried to kill me. And they might even threaten or try again. That doesn’t change anything. You destroyed the mission house, well I’m gonna build it right back up again, Fraternity or not. Because I have a duty to my mission. And I have a duty to my friend. He would never abandon me or let me down. So you know what? Neither will I. Never.”

The unicorn general glared at White, his poise unchanged but his eyes betraying a mix of disappointment and irritation.

“Consign yourself to failure, then?” he asked. “How long will you go until you realize that you’ve achieved nothing?”

White’s face spontaneously erupted into a grin. Monarch raised a cautious eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re the one who’s achieved nothing,” said White. “This ‘flood the town’ business? So what? The earth ponies can just rebuild, but you know something? They all evacuated!” His voice rose as he lowered his hoof and stomped on the wood. He smiled triumphantly at the enemy. “You know what that means? It means that nopony died today.” He raised his head. “Nopony died today, Monarch. In spite of your big engine of destruction, you couldn’t kill one single pony today. And that means I win!”

Monarch glared, his face stony and devoid of his usual smugness. White didn’t know what was going through his head, or what was about to come out of his mouth, because the unicorn general was rudely interrupted.

“Hey!” shouted General Quake from a pile of rubble. “Fancy-dick!”

The others all looked up at him as he aimed his guns at the rooftop the unicorns were standing on. White cast one more glance at Brother Scroll as he saw his partner mouth, ‘Oh shit.’

The little wooden island exploded into splinters as the two unicorns escaped the blast, Monarch vanishing in a flash of light and White thrown into the water.

He hit the water and grabbed onto a piece of floating wood, kicking to try to propel himself.

“White!” called Scroll, still clinging to a pipe on the side of a now-waterlogged building.

Monarch reappeared in the air above General Quake, blasting down with magical energy. The rubble exploded; Quake, remarkably agile for a pony of his size, leapt onto another island of flotsam. A cannon from his chest fired a grenade at the unicorn general, who once again vanished, leaving the armament to strike a mountain of rubble.

White wasn’t quite sure how that little ball could cause such a big explosion. He’d have to have Scroll explain it sometime. Wood and stone was hurled into the air above, raining down into the water, before White felt a current pull at him.

That particular pile of junk had acted as a dam for that small section of the town, and now that it was demolished, water began to pour out. White grabbed onto what had once been someone’s house, clinging to its side much like Scroll was doing to another house. He looked back at his mission brother.

“Look out!” White cried.

Before Scroll could react, something hit him in the back, dislodging him from the relative safety of his perch. With nothing else to grab at, he clung to the block and ran with the current.

White looked at where the blockage had been earlier, and balked – it was flowing out like a waterfall. Scroll would surely plummet over the side!

White reached out with all his magic and grabbed Scroll. His horn burned from the strain, but he held Scroll and his large block.

“I got you!”

“Hey!” said Scroll. “It’s my book chest!”

“Well, that’s great,” grunted White, his eyes shut in concentration. “Then once this is over we can get back to that library!”

Scroll and White held on as long as they could as the water lowered, spilling out into somewhere else in the town. Gunshots and explosions rang out, signifying the battle between the two generals, as Quake leapt from one rooftop to the next, his guns blazing at Monarch, who continually vanished and reappeared before sending another bolt of magic at his adversary. The missionaries didn’t concern them. Nothing concerned them except seeing the other dead.

“Quit dancing like a coward and fight me like a stallion!” roared Quake. He turned around, his head looking back and forth, trying to find the elusive general. Then he froze.

“Cowardice,” said Monarch, as he reappeared before the massive earth pony general, “is a word invented by headstrong imbeciles like yourself so that you can pass off your suicidal stupidity as a trait to be admired.” His horn glowed as he walked up to Quake, who was covered in a sickly purple aura. Quake’s legs shook as he tried to stand against Monarch’s crushing magic. “Well?” asked Monarch. “I’m facing you, like a stallion.” He leaned in. “What are you going to do now?”

The slimey, smug smile on Monarch’s face rammed up as Quake’s front hoof slammed into his lower jaw, knocking him into the air.

“That good enough, fucker?”

Monarch righted himself in the air and sent another blast down at Quake’s feet. The magical explosion threw him into the water. By now the water level had lowered, leaving the general at a much lower risk of drowning, as he might have with all the guns and armor strapped to his body. As it was, the water only came up to his neck.

But the water around the general quickly froze as Monarch landed, and Quake was encased in ice. As the water lowered, Quake’s icy prison gleamed in the sunlight. Quake’s face contorted and he snarled. Cracks emerged in the ice, and the general roared in fury as he broke free, blasting away chunks of the frozen sea water like shrapnel, which Monarch ducked away from in time to avoid.

Scroll, meanwhile, safely touched the ground as the water finished draining out, leaving him and his chest of books in the salty mud.

“Scroll, you okay?” White called down from the rooftop.

“I think so,” said Scroll as he looked over at the fighting warlords. “We gotta get out of here.”

White turned around and disappeared from Scroll’s sight.

“Hey!” he shouted. “You two, stop– WOAH!”

White flew off of the roof and landed with a SPLAT in the mud. Scroll ran over to him in a panic.

“White! You okay?”

“Monarch hit me in the face...” White moaned. “That was rude...”

___________

Both of the generals were covered in mud, nearly exhausted from their battle. The wet, muddy patches were dotted with smoking craters and riddled with shells and bullet cases. They stood at opposite ends of a tattered battlefield, glaring.

Monarch faltered ever so slightly, his hoof not quite hitting solid ground. Quake smirked.

“What’s the matter?” he jeered. “You ran out of magic?” He readied a gun. “Funny. I still got bullets.”

Monarch’s eyes went wide, and as the barrels on Quake’s gun spun up, he disappeared again and a flash of light shot for the fortress. Quake snarled at the sight.

“Go ahead and run!” he roared. “You come here, pick a fight, and run away! Well you fuckers all remember that I’m right here! And if you come at me, you’re fucking dead!”

___________

“Well, at least our house is in one piece.”

“Barrel,” sighed Tap. “It’s upside-down.”

“Well, okay, but...” Barrel pondered their living arrangements.

The missionaries trudged through the mud, looking back and forth at the distraught citizens as they worked to try to clear out their city, draining it of water. Rebuilding would be more difficult this time. The seawater had not been kind to the forest, and there were no buildings left standing.

Even the mission house, which until now had been a safe haven, had been wiped out by the deluge.

“It can all be rebuilt, right?” asked Scroll.

“I think so,” said White. He sighed.

“Well...” said Scroll. “There’s one bright side.”

White looked at him quizzically.

“It’s like you told Monarch,” said Scroll. “Nopony died. Everyone was saved.”

Brother White smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “I admit, looking at all this, there isn’t a lot to brag about...”

“I think things can get better here,” said Scroll, looking around. Already the ponies were sorting through the rubble, trying to piece together what they could, see if anything was still usable. “The town will be rebuilt. We can help. And the Fraternity will get our letter and they should send us those supplies we need. And the books survived, so we can build the library.”

White nodded. “That all sounds pretty good...”

Clip walked up behind them. “But... where are we gonna stay?” he asked. “I mean... if the mission house is gone...”

White turned around, looking down at the child. He struggled to find the right thing to say. “We’ll manage,” he said at length. “We can rebuild. Maybe Tap and Barrel can help us with...”

“Actually...”

The missionaries turned around and saw Tap, leaning against a post that was still somehow standing up in the mud.

“Lost your house, huh?” she asked. “I can relate. And, actually, I had an idea...”

The missionaries’ ears pricked up. “Yeeeees?” they both asked.

“Well...” Tap said with a nonchalant glance at her raised hoof. “I was just thinking, that since my house is gone, and your house is gone, and we kinda all get along...” She lowered her hoof. “Why not just save the trouble and build one house?”

“So...” Scroll smiled. “Like a dual-purpose mission house and inn?”

“Yeah,” Tap said with a smirk. “Something like that.”

“And free breakfast,” added White.

Tap chuckled and walked between them. “Well, hey, let’s not decide everything right away.”

___________

General Quake brushed a mountain of rubble off of the ground, growling to himself about everything that pissed him off. The missionaries. The other generals. The dipshit lieutenant standing next to him.

“Here’s the fucking thing,” he said as he uncovered a giant stone slab. With his massive strength, he lifted it, revealing a stone staircase underneath. Water spilled down, drenching the stairs. The cavernous passageway echoed with the sound of the water, as though it were a rainfall. “Once we get this damn thing working we can shoot that fucking castle out of the sky.”

He walked down the stairs, disappearing into the darkness beneath the town and the mountain.

“Then we’ll see how proud General Monarch is of his cannon engine.”

---

Chapter 25

Scroll let out a relieved gasp as he set the barrel down with the others. He could carry a barrel of water just fine, but he’d carried up seven since he awoke that morning, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

Still, he had a feeling of satisfaction as he looked up at the “FREE WATER” sign on the side of the building. It was a two-story building, built on the same spot as the old mission house, with two entrances – one for the main mission room and one for the tavern, plus one more door to function as an exit to the alleyway.

He looked up at the tavern. It had been about a month since Tap got the bright idea of combining both buildings. It was a fairly even set-up: one half of the building was the tavern, with the pub, tables, and selection of booze. Adjacent and connected by a door was the central mission room, where the collection of rowdy soldiers met once a week for a friendship meeting with himself and Brother White. Upstairs were the rooms where the inhabitants slept, along with extra bedrooms for whoever wanted room to stay.

A chorus of laughs poured through the door the soldiers filed out. Their once-shiny name badges were in various states of tarnish. Still, they came regularly and seemed to enjoy themselves. Furthermore, as they added to the mission’s membership, the Fraternity had started to send more supplies, including Scroll’s much-needed stoves. Brother White brought up the rear, with Clip at his hooves.

“Have a nice night, and remember, next week is charades!” White called. He stood there for a moment and took in a deep waft of air. A cheerful, slightly self-satisfied grin adorned his face.

“Good meeting?” asked Scroll.

“Very,” said White. “I think we’re really starting to win them over. They’ve even stopped calling me ‘horner.’” He rapped on the side of the water barrel. “And this is coming, too?”

Scroll nodded. “Yeah. We keep this up and we can take up a lot of the slack of Monarch’s machi...” He paused, trying to think of a better way to word it. “Monarch’s machine’s slack... no...”

“Hey, look, it’s the faggot jizz-water!” shouted a jeering, familiar voice. “Hey, you play games at your meetings? Do you play ‘see who can stick a dick furthest up your ass?’ That sounds like a faggy game to me.”

Scroll looked up the road and saw Buzz, sure enough, sneering at them from the street. White promptly drew a hoof to his face and drew Scroll’s eyes back to his own.

“I’m proud of you, Scroll,” said White. “I couldn’t... I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

“What, you gonna kiss now?” Buzz sneered.

Clip stomped his foot. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “Maybe they will! What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

“Clip,” said Scroll, “don’t bother.”

“You’re as gay as they are!” Buzz said.

“You’re gay!” Clip shouted back as he stomped up to him. “You’re gay and you don’t even know it!”

“Clip,” Scroll repeated.

“You’re totally a fag!” said Buzz. “You’re fucking pink and shit! I bet you–”

Buzz was cut off as Clip smacked him across the face with his right hoof. He reeled back, his face bearing a shocked expression.

“CLIP!” shouted White. Clip turned around as Buzz scurried off down the road. “Clip, go upstairs to your room.”

“But–”

“No buts,” said White. “You go up to your room and you don’t come out until I say so.”

Clip sat there, confused and a little disappointed. Not wanting to fixate on White’s expression, he meekly walked through the doorway back into the tavern.

White sighed.

“Don’t think that might be a little harsh?” asked Scroll.

“No, I just think I need to talk with him,” White explained. “We’re not grounding him, he just needs to understand.”

“Gotcha.” Scroll nodded. “I’m gonna head down to the docks. We should get some new books today, and that means...” He smiled.

“Library?”

“Library.”

Scroll trotted off with an additional bounce in his step. White stood on the side of the road and watched his companion. A pair of ponies walked over and grabbed one of the water barrels, not even grunting a “thank you” in appreciation.

Well, I think our ‘jizz-water’ is perfectly fine, thought White as he turned to the door of the tavern.

Inside the tavern was more or less the same business that had been going on since the first day they arrived. Lots of earth ponies smoking, drinking, and playing cards. White had to wonder whether the Fraternity would approve of the venue, with all its booze.

Granted, most ponies back home weren’t familiar with booze, so it was unlikely to be covered in any regulations. Still, part of White, while grateful for the innovative and helpful arrangements, couldn’t help but feel there was something amiss. Particularly when he saw Tap flirting with a bar patron.

“Hey, horner!” called a drunk. “Sing us somethin’!”

Whether they were mocking him or being genuinely friendly he couldn’t tell. He decided to grin and bear it as though it were the latter.

“Sorry, folks, I’m a bit busy at the moment!” he said as he trotted up the stairs.

Clip’s room was right next to the missionaries’ room at the end of the hall. White made his way to the door, knocked gently, and slowly opened it.

The room was sparsely decorated, mainly colored by a few crayon drawings on the wall. A small table next to a small bed had a few books stacked on it, including the Book of Friendship, but they were mostly the simple books children read that devote more page space to the pictures than the text. Other books and pages were pushed into the corner, the colt’s feeble pretension to cleaning his room.

Clip sulked on the bed, his chin resting on a pillow.

“May I come in?” White asked.

“Sure.”

White stepped inside and sat on the foot of the bed.

“Am I in trouble?” asked Clip.

“No,” said White. “You’re not in trouble, but I thought we should talk.”

Clip lifted his head and craned his neck to look at White. The unicorn was smiling gently.

“You shouldn’t have hit him.”

“But he’s a jerk!” the colt protested. “He tried to kill you.”

“Yes,” White quietly admitted, “yes he did.”

“Well… don’t you want to hit him?”

“Clip,” said White. “If I did everything I wanted, I probably wouldn’t be a very good pony.”

Clip tilted his head.

“Look,” explained White. “If we’re lucky, then we should want things that are good for everyone. We want to see others happy because it makes us happy. We want those around us to be nice so that we can live nice lives.”

Clip nodded.

“But sometimes we want things that aren’t good. Sometimes we want to hurt other ponies because they make us mad or because we think they deserve it.”

“He wanted to hurt you,” said Clip. He blinked, puzzled. “You’re not going to do anything back?”

“No, I don’t think so.” White shook his head. “If Buzz or his father come to our mission, wishing for our friendship,” White said, “we will accept them like we’d accept any Brother. If not…” He smiled weakly. “Well, they’ll continue doing what they’re doing. And you know, I don’t think they’ll enjoy it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you feel good when you hit Buzz?” asked White.

“Yes,” said Clip.

“Do you feel good about it now?”

Clip thought about it for a minute. “A little.”

“Cliiiip?” asked White.

“Well...” Clip lowered his head. “Maybe not.”

White chuckled. “I don’t think any of the ponies here are really happy. I don’t think you can be happy when you’re always mean to other ponies.”

“So you’re gonna forgive Buzz?” asked Clip.

White nodded. “Yes. I believe that it’s best if we forgive those who’ve wronged us. That’s what friendship has taught me.”

“So... should I forgive him?”

“Well...” White laughed. “You don’t really have to forgive him if he hasn’t done anything to you. Well, apart from that insult.”

“Should I forgive Scroll? Should I...” Clip looked down. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked, “Should I forgive the ponies who took away my wings?”

White was quiet for a minute. He bit his lip, parsing over the words in his mind. He took a deep breath. “Sometimes...” he said, a little more quietly. “Sometimes forgiving someone can be hard. I guess sometimes it can even hurt, too.”

Clip didn’t say anything. White was silent for a minute.

“I...” he said. “I can’t tell you how to feel. I haven’t had it as rough as you have. So, I honestly can’t say what I would or wouldn’t do in your place. But,” he continued, “I think you should forgive Brother Scroll. I know he hurt you, but he's sorry. He cares about you and he wants to help you. He can't do that if you shut him out. He's just trying to do what all of us are trying to do.” Clip looked up over at White.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“We do the best we can with what you're given. And sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we do something wrong."

“I guess,” said Clip. He sat up, sighed, and looked at White. “Am I still in trouble?” he asked.

White chuckled. “Nah.” He hopped off the bed. “I’m gonna wait for Scroll and see if more books arrived.”

He left for the door, with Clip trotting after him.

___________

There was a satisfying crack as Scroll pried the lid off of the chest. Inside was a veritable miniature library of books. Clip peered over the edge of the chest, his eyes scanning back and forth across a parade of titles that were mostly meaningless to him.

White, Barrel, and Tap all stood off to the side of the room. They were in the missionary meeting room, where the rag-tag congregation met for weekly friendship gatherings. Tap had a smile on her face as she watched Scroll sort through the other books, his eyes pouring over every title like a foal on Hearth’s Warming opening his presents.

Scroll dipped his head in and slowly slid one book out in his mouth.

“What’s that?” Clip asked.

“This...” Scroll laid the book down. On the cover and spine, in gold letters, were the words The Bridge to the End. “This is a book my parents read to me as a foal. I remember I grabbed it off the bookshelf pretty much at random.” He smiled at the recollection. “I opened it and I was confused about why it didn’t have any pictures. But mom and dad offered to read it to me.”

Clip cautiously reached a hoof over and opened it. Scroll was right: it didn’t have any pictures.

“I don’t think I could read this,” he admitted.

“Well, I could read it to you,” Scroll offered.

Clip’s hoof froze over the book. He bit his lip, unsure. “I don’t know...” he said.

“Well, it’s okay,” Scroll said as he turned to the rest of the group. “Okay, I think we can fit all these on the bookshelf. Barrel, could you give me a hoof?”

“Sure,” said Barrel as he nodded his head and stepped forward.

“We’re gonna need more shelves,” said Tap.

“Wish I had a carpentry cutie mark...” said White. Then his ears pricked up and he got an idea. “Wait, what about Carpenter?”

Tap looked at him with the expression of one who heard the dumbest suggestion ever. “The guy who tried to lynch you?”

“Yeah,” said White. “I mean, well...” He blinked, realizing the error of his idea. “Well... he’s got something we’d like. And it might be a way to patch things up with him...” He looked at Tap. The mare wore a dubious expression, as though she were the inner voice in his head telling him it was a bad idea. White sighed. “Still, it just seems like the right thing to do.”

“Well, do it if you like. Just as long as you don’t get yourself killed.” Tap shrugged. “Scroll thinks we should try getting a new structure for the library if we keep getting books.”

“He does?” asked White. “Never told me that.”

“Well, you’re not always in the same room as us,” said Tap with a wink.

White blinked for a few seconds. “Uh, well,” he said. Then he righted himself. “Actually, on the subject of... building arrangements, there’s something I should probably talk with you?”

“Oh?”

“Er...” White looked at Tap, Scroll, and Barrel, who were hard at work setting the books on the shelf. Clip couldn’t haul the books up himself, so he scurried back and forth from the chest, carrying the books from the chest and giving them over to one of the other two. “Could we talk about it alone?” he asked. Tap nodded and went through the door, into the main tavern. It was mostly empty at this point in the day, with most of the ponies off doing their own jobs, save for Bottle Top, who was asleep in the corner as usual. Tap stopped and turned around to lean on the counter, her mouth shut but ready come up with a snappy response to whatever White was about to say.

“Okay,” said White. His speech was slow and deliberate, as though he were stalling for time so his brain could catch up with his mouth. He reached out a hoof and drew a stool over next to him, though he did not sit. “You see, this mission, well, the Fraternity, really, is supposed to be a very family-friendly thing.”

“Uh-huh?” Tap intoned.

“Well, and you see, it’s hard to reconcile, the, uh...” White stammered. “The proceedings that we try to carry on with the congregation and the, uh, other things in this building...”

“The rowdy drunks?” asked Tap. “You know, your ‘congregation’ consists largely of rowdy soldiers who tend to go right along with that.”

“Well...” White rubbed the back of his neck with his free hoof while leaning on the stool with his other. “There’s not just that, there’s the... other things, that you also do, in this building–”

“Oh yeah, that,” Tap said. “I don’t really think the soldiers have a problem with me giving blowjobs upstairs.”

“Uh–” White sputtered.

“Actually, they get in on that, too.”

White slipped and fell off of the stool. Tap bit her lip in an attempt not to laugh. “You okay there?” she asked.

He pulled himself back off the ground and straightened his tie. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “Well, it’s just a matter of, well, keeping things in the standards, I mean, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but, well, maybe we could try to, uh, get the arrangements so that...”

“I set up a Sex Hut down the street?” Tap asked dryly.

There was a moment of silence as White blinked, breathed, and looked back and forth around the room.

“Well...” he said. “I guess that does sound kinda dumb when you say it out loud...”

“I could... bribe you,” she suggested with a subtle smile and lowered eyelids.

“Yes, you–” White nodded. Suddenly his head jerked to a stop and his eyes widened. “What?”

“Sure,” Tap said as she slowly walked up to him, her rear swaying. “I mean, we can patch it up all real nice, and the Fraternity doesn’t need to know.” She stood before him, her eyelids fluttering. “I’ve never had a unicorn before, and you are handsome.”

“Uh-uh-uhh...” White stammered. “...had...?” He squeaked.

Tap giggled. “Oh, just teasing you.” She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek before heading off to the other room to help the others with the books, leaving Brother White to puzzle over it. When his thoughts righted themselves he found himself nearly alone, with the only other ponies in the tavern being a trio of card-players and the sleeping bum.

He looked to the door and decided to pay a visit to someone who hated him.

___________

The building was not in any way particularly different than any other building in the town. They were all built with function in mind, rather than style. The only distinguishing features of the shop were the wooden chairs out front and a large sign hanging from the edge of the roof that read: Carpenter & Son’s.

Most ponies would agree that it was foolish for White to go. Brother White politely disagreed and stepped through the front door.

Carpenter had made no effort to make his shop at all inviting. There were few windows and at this time of day the sunlight didn’t illuminate the room as well as it should. Sawdust littered the floor and finished wares were stashed off on the side. Many shops in Equestria were bright and lively, as if to say “I’m so glad you came! By all means, feel free to window shop! Then you can buy more stuff than you thought you would! And come back soon!” This shop, however, seemed not to care who came, as if to say “buy your wooden crap and go.” No bell had signaled White’s entrance, though the door was so creaky that a bell would’ve been completely unnecessary. Still, nopony came to greet him.

White wasn’t one to stand around awkwardly in an empty room, so he made himself comfortable, walking around the room and admiring the owner’s work. Carpenter certainly fit his name. Shelves, tables, and chairs lined the walls of the house. He wondered briefly where the stallion got all the wood he needed for that, but he supposed a pony had ways of making ends meet. Maybe he owns a stake in the forest, he mused. But this will do, he decided. This will do wonderfully.

The door creaked open again. White turned and saw a familiar, scowling face.

“What are you doing here?” asked Carpenter. “What do you want?”

“Well,” said White as he propped himself up and prepared to deliver his request, complete with his beaming smile. “I–”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” asked Carpenter. White’s expression changed to something more serious.

“No, I get it,” said White. “I just don’t care. I’m just here, as a customer, to buy something.” His smile returned, slowly and cautiously.

Carpenter slowly walked up to him, his steps quiet but threatening as they clopped against the sawdust-covered floor. “Why should I sell anything to a faggoty horner who fucked my son?” he asked, his voice a smoldering growl.

White didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I didn’t do anything to your son. I swear I don’t know why he says that I did. I know that you hate me,” he said. “But please.” His voice was quiet. “I want a bookcase. My friend wants to build a library.”

Carpenter ignored and walked past him, before turning to face him. His face had not changed, and he looked like he was more than ready to shove the unicorn out of the shop.

“If it weren’t for the general, I would’ve killed you,” he said.

“I’m very grateful to the general for that...” said White. “And to my friends.”

“The whore, her useless fatass of a brother, the crippled shit-wing, and the other faggot.”

At that, White’s nice-guy demeanor gave way. “Don’t insult them!” he snapped. “Hate me all you like, but leave my friends out of it!” White stomped a hoof on the ground. “You know, maybe, juuuust maybe, if you paid attention to what your son did once in awhile you’d realize what he’s been up to, how terribly mannered he is. Maybe then you’d get that I didn’t do anything and he lied to you.”

“Fuck you!”

Carpenter marched up to the unicorn, his eyes blazing with indignant fury. “Look at this,” he said, a hoof pointed at his shoulder.

“I–”

“Look at it.”

White looked. There was an unsightly scar on Carpenter’s shoulder.

“I got this,” said Carpenter, “when a winger broke into my home. I shot him and got this protecting my home and my family. Look at this.” He raised his right hoof, showing a long scar, as though there had been a gash, running up the length of his leg. “I got this from making a table. My hoof slipped at it ran along the saw. I have some more like it. Want to see them?”

White didn’t say anything. His mouth almost opened a few times, but no words came out.

“This is what I get every day of my life. You come here and have the gall to tell me that I’m not good enough as a father to my son?” he asked. “Fuck you and the ship you sailed in on.”

White lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I–”

“Sorry for what?” Carpenter asked. “Sorry for being a privileged shit? You’ve never been sorry for a damn thing in your life.” He backed away. “Get out.”

White paused for a second before he turned to leave. His face was slightly downturned, disheartened that he could not persuade Carpenter of this one simple request. Without another word, he turned and walked, not looking back at the bitter glare of the other stallion. The door squeaked as much on the way out as it had on the way in.

He stood outside the door for a minute, and thought about what had just happened. White sighed and turned to walk back to the mission house, when he saw Clip sitting by the window.

“Clip!” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“The others seemed to be doing okay,” said Clip. “So I came to see what you were doing.” He looked back in the window. “What are you gonna do?”

“Well...” sighed White. “We’ll have to get a bookshelf some other way.”

“Hmm...” Clip thought. “How about asking one of the soldiers to buy it? You could give them the money, and then they could come here, and he wouldn’t know?”

White smiled and ruffled Clip’s mane with his hoof, to the colt’s mild embarrassment.

“Good thinking,” said White. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the tavern before they wonder where we’ve gone off to.”

The two set back down the road, crowded as it was with cranky ponies doing jobs and errands. Clip followed closely behind White.

“White?”

“Yes, Clip?”

“Why would you want to deal with him?” asked Clip.

“Well, because he has something that we’d like to have,” said White. “We could try making our own bookcases,” he conceded, “but I think he’d do it better.”

“But he’s a bad pony.”

The two stopped. White turned around and knelt down in front of Clip.

“Clip,” said White. “I don’t think I could say who is or isn’t a bad pony. I think that Carpenter has done some bad things. Mainly to me. But that isn’t what’s important.”

“Forgiveness?” asked Clip.

“Well,” White chuckled. “Not exactly what I was thinking about. But that works.”

___________

White peered into the mirror at his teeth. As usual, he had impeccable dental health, the reward of years’ worth of diligent brushing. The bathroom was nothing spectacular, but it would do. He had to share his bathroom downstairs with the usual patrons, and there was no shower stall. As such, he had to substitute showers for bubble baths. Not the preferred choice, but better than nothing. Hopefully they would be able to work something out soon.

He headed upstairs, away from the quieting but still-active crowds, up to the bedrooms.

Scroll was already in the bedroom, fluffing up their pillows. White nodded politely to his partner and circled around the bed to his side and found that there was a book laying next to his pillow. He blinked in brief confusion.

“Scroll?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“What’s this?”

“What’s...” Scroll turned to look. “Oh! Well, I found that in with the books they sent me, and, well, I thought you might find it interesting.”

White peered over the volume. The cover depicted a very happy pair: a unicorn filly and colt. “Spells to Smile About?” he read.

Scroll grinned. “Well, I thought maybe it would have some stuff you could use,” he said. “I mean, given your cutie mark. I’ve given a look through, and I think maybe these spells could help out in spreading a little cheer around.”

White was a little cautious in his enthusiasm, but he lifted the cover. “Could’ve used something like this a while ago,” he mused.

“Better late than never?” Scroll asked with a weak smile and a shrug.

“True.”

White flipped through the pages. It was his special talent after all, though he had to admit the most he’d really used his magic for was for the occasional tooth-cleaning and a lot of controlling ponies’ mouths. But maybe his magic could cover things a little more broadly than simple dentistry.

One entry in the book caught his eye: Relaxing Giggles. As his eyes read through the description, he let out an amused “hmm...”

“‘Hmmm’?” asked Scroll, who was just about ready to tuck himself into bed.

“Thank you, Scroll,” said White, his face adorned with a mischievous grin. “I think I might’ve found something already.”

Scroll tilted his head curiously, wondering what the spell could be or why White seemed to have an almost worry-inducingly amused grin, but his concentration was dulled like an old spoon. He felt something thick and soft seeping into his head, as though a big fluffy pillow were pressed against his brain, and he felt... silly. Silly as though everything funny in the world had turned into an unending parade of cheerful comedy.

“Heh...” he uttered.

“Something...” White turned his head. “Funny?”

Scroll let out a small stream of more chortles before bursting into a soft but uncontrollable giggle. He fell back onto his back, a dopey grin all over his face.

“I guess I could tickle you but I don’t think I have to.” He looked over at his mission partner, now lying flat on his back. “Uhh... can you move?”

“Mmm... heheh...” Scroll apparently couldn’t, or at least he had no will to. “You’re funny...”

“No I’m not,” said White, feigning offended dignity. “There is not one funny bone,” he said, punctuating the each word with a wag of his hoof and a shake of his head, “in my body.”

Scroll’s stationary snickering continued. It took all of White’s acting experience to keep a straight face.

“Don’t you laugh!” White mock-scolded. “Do I look funny to you?”

Scroll clamped his mouth shut, but occasional snorts still forced their way through his mouth. White climbed onto the bed and crawled over to Scroll’s side of the bed, leaning over him with caricaturish scowl on his normally pleasant and sunny face.

“So?” asked White. He poked at Scroll’s belly with his hoof, which elicited snorts of laughter. “What’s so funny about me?”

“You have a smile on your butt.”

There was a knock on the door. White looked over and saw Clip standing in the doorway, a book laid on the floor before his hooves.

“Um...” said Clip. “Sorry if I’m stopping your playtime...”

“No, not at all,” said White, propping the slightly-addled Scroll up into a sitting position. “Did you need something?”

“Well, I was wondering...” Clip pawed at the floor. “I wanted to know if Scroll could read to me before bedtime.”

Scroll turned his head around. Clip didn’t look directly at him; his head was downcast, his eyes passing back and forth between the book and the missionary.

“Why, yes,” Scroll said. He shook his head as he tried to snap himself out of White’s magic-induced stupor. “Just head off to bed and give me a minute.”

“Okay,” said Clip, and he picked up the book in his mouth and walked off to his room.

White patted him on the back. “You good?”

“I think so,” said Scroll. “We’ll have to try that again.”

White chuckled. “Think you can walk?”

“Yeah, yeah...” said Scroll as he tried to orient himself. “Still just a bit woozy.”

“Well, c’mon. Don’t leave the kid waiting. I think it took him a lot to ask you to do that.”

Scroll got up from the bed and walked down the corridor. By the time he got to Clip’s room, the colt had tucked himself into bed with the book laying on the side of the bedclothes. Scroll sat down beside the bed, opened the book, and began to read.

“There are reasons that bridges are specifically built over things, rather than beneath or next to them...”

---

Chapter 26

Sawdust filled the air enough to choke a pony. The dull, grinding sound of the saw made the small shop feel like an oppressive mill more than anything else. Carpenter sawed through board after board with a seemingly single-minded focus: a mechanic working with precise efficiency. His workbench was coated in a fine film of sawdust, and larger piles of the stuff had accumulated at the floor around it.

Buzz walked up to him with slow, hesitant steps, a three-legged stool carried in his mouth. Carpenter paid him no heed.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” asked Carpenter, not stopping his sawing.

“I made something,” said Buzz, setting the stool down on the floor.

Carpenter grunted and placed the saw down. He turned to Buzz and picked up the stool, and then turned back to his bench. Holding the stool up to the light, he scrutinized his son’s woodwork, his gaze crawling along every inch of the seat.

“One of the legs is shorter than the others,” he said at length.

“I measured them,” said Buzz. “They’re the same.”

“You didn’t put them on right,” said Carpenter. “One of them’s on crooked.”

Carpenter placed the stool back on the ground and went back to his work. Buzz gulped and put a hoof to the stool and wobbled it a little. Sure enough, it wasn’t even. He sighed, took his stool, and walked away. However...

“You’ve still been hanging around the mission,” said Carpenter. Buzz froze in his tracks. The colt opened his mouth to speak, but Carpenter cut him off. “I’ve seen you there. Why?”

Buzz blinked. “I...” he stuttered. “I’ve been looking at Tap.”

“Tap?”

“Yeah,” he said, satisfied with his own answer. “I... I like to look at her.” He paused. “She’s hot.”

Carpenter turned around, looking at Buzz with his eyes narrowed. “She’s a whore,” he said. “She’s not worth your time.”

Buzz lowered his head. “I know...” he said.

___________

Brother White was talking about something. What it was he was talking about, one couldn’t be sure. Tap tried to concentrate...

“Well, flossing is important because there are spaces in between the teeth that a toothbrush just can’t reach...”

Nothing important, then, Tap thought.

She sat on a soft cushion at a round table. She, Scroll, and White sat around the table, teacups in front of them. A teapot and jars of milk and sugar were all arranged in the center. Clip and Barrel were at another table in the corner, engaged in an intense game of checkers. In the other corner of the room, a table was stacked with syrup-covered plates, the remains of that morning’s pancake breakfast.

So this is a tea party, she thought. It’s nice, sure. Guess they do this in Equestria instead of booze. She took a sip. Damn, these cups are small.

“King me!” shouted Clip, his little forelegs held above his head in triumph.

“Aww, nuts.”

Tap looked at White as he continued yammering on. Whether he was still talking about oral hygiene or not, she could not tell.

Damn, his mouth is huge. I swear, I could stick my hoof in there. It’s like a cavern, except it’s... did... did his teeth just sparkle? That’s just weird...

“King me again!”

“Uh... I don’t think it works that way...”

Tap chuckled a little. Cute kid, she thought. I kinda feel bad... I’d seen the little guy clearing garbage in the street before and never bothered to think about him. Well, guess I’m not the missionary.

“Milk?” asked Scroll.

“Hm?” Tap asked.

Scroll was smiling at her and holding out the small pitcher of milk for her, waiting for her to take it.

“Oh, sure,” said Tap, as Scroll poured some into her cup. “Thanks.”

Drinking milk like a little filly, she thought. Well, I guess it’s not that weird anymore. As she stirred the tea she looked at Scroll. His attention was divided between her and White, but Tap won the majority by ever so little.

He's smiling at me like he's so nervous. I swear, he's just one burst of confidence away from asking me to marry him. Totally. I wonder if he's paying attention to anything White's saying. Maybe I could signal him. Give him a wink. Give him a wink and, yep, he's trying not to giggle. Fidgeting with his glasses, too. She took a sip of her tea, and a small part of her wished she could have something as strong as the whiskey she had over in the other room. It really isn’t fair – ever since we got the water going, ponies have been complaining about me watering down the beer. Which is bullshit, because I haven’t. Well, more than usual, anyway. I probably could water down the beer and they’d never notice it. Actually, that’s what I’ll do. Fuck you, Duster, I’ll call your fucking bluff. If he doesn’t like it, he can fuck off and buy it somewhere else. I swear he’s just trying to rip me off... What are they talking about again?

“...enchanted so that the floss does all the work by itself. Though there’s still the problem of foals being antsy about things tugging at their teeth...”

I swear, he just really, really likes the sound of his voice. He just goes on and on and on and on... Hmm... She shot another look at Scroll. I should talk him into doing some cooking for us. I probably could. But that’d be hard to work into his door-knocking and stuff. Dinner. I’ll get him to cook dinner. That should work out.

She took another sip of the tea. The milk had sweetened the somewhat bitter taste.

No booze in Equestria, huh? Well, that sucks. If I didn’t have a bottle of whiskey on hoof I don’t know how I’d get through the week. Apart from tea all they have is sarsaparilla and Diet Brown and stuff. Not that there’s anything wrong with sarsaparilla...

Scroll had turned his attentions back to Brother White, nodding along with the unicorn as he talked about his favorite kinds of mouthwash.

I wonder if I could talk him into a threesome with White. Probably could, but I dunno about White. If he’s totally gay then I’m out of luck... unless I... arrange it right. She ran the scenario through her mind. That might work, but he’s probably one of those “no-sex-until-a-week-after-marriage” types. Probably couldn’t get him to do anything unless he was drunk, and he hates booze so... I’m out of luck.

“So what do you think?”

“Huh?” asked Tap. Brother White was looking at her, wide-eyed and with a big grin on his face, as though pleased with something he’d just said. Something about teeth. “Right, right right. Sounds great. Keep the pearly whites pearly.”

“That’s my name alright,” said White, beaming.

“Hmm...” Tap took another sip of tea. “I was thinking of something,” she said.

“Oh?” asked White.

“Well, you know how you got all those barrels of water outside?” she asked. “Why not move them inside?”

White and Scroll exchanged glances.

“I mean, if you have them outside, ponies are just gonna take them and go,” she explained. “But if you move them inside, they have to come in, settle into the atmosphere. And who knows, some of ‘em might stay to hear what you have to say.”

The missionaries looked at each other, Scroll raising a hoof to rub his chin as White took a slow sip of tea. Over in the corner, Barrel fumed over the checkers rulebook while Clip leaned over the board with a wide-eyed, eager grin.

“Hmm...” White mulled.

“And, well, they might stop to grab a drink or a bite to eat,” Tap finished.

“You know...” said Scroll. “I think that’s a really good idea.”

“Thought so,” said Tap. “Well, this has been absolutely lovely, but I think Barrel and I should get ready for the customers. Barrel?”

“Huh?” asked Barrel, still fuming and paging through the rulebook while Clip sat at his end, a smug smile on his face and a king stacked with seven checkers on the board. “Sure, sure, coming.”

“Can I help?” asked Clip.

Tap giggled. “Alright, kid. I’ll teach you a few things about running a tavern.”

“Sweet!” he said, trotting after her.

White and Scroll remained at the table, smiling at each other.

“Well,” said White, “time to break out the ties.”

Scroll nodded. “I’ll head on up and get them.”

“Sure thing,” said White, levitating the tea set. “I’ll put these away.”

Scroll whistled a jaunty tune as he waltzed into the tavern, where a few ponies were just getting themselves seated. Tap had already taken her spot behind the counter and was cleaning a glass with a dishrag that, from its muddy color, was probably more dirty than the glass itself. Clip himself crawled on top of the counter, and Scroll couldn’t help but wonder what Clip would do with his climbing when he got older.

“So, out for another round of door-knocking?” asked Tap. “Say, before you go, I got a little idea for us?”

“Oh?” asked Scroll.

“Yeah,” said Tap. “You’re a pretty good cook, so I was thinking maybe you could whip up a few things for me to sell to customers.” She leaned forward and smiled. “I could give you a cut of the money.”

“What? No.” Scroll laughed and waved his hoof. “I mean, uh,” he stammered. “Well, yeah, I can cook, but I don’t need anything for it. I mean, practice is good by itself.”

“Oh, come on,” said Tap. She turned around and took a bottle from the shelf. “I don’t believe in taking something without giving something back.”

“You’ve already given us plenty,” said Scroll, looking around the tavern. “Gave us the idea of setting up here.”

“Well...” Tap paused. She rolled the bottle back and forth over the counter, mulling over that thought. “Well then...” She smirked. “I guess when you put it that way, you just plain owe me.”

“Hey, hey!” Scroll protested, lifting a hoof in feigned shock. “Don’t start... extorting me. That’s not cool.”

The door opened and two soldiers walked in. One of them was a tall, earth-red stallion, and the other was a shorter, slightly stouter sand-colored stallion. The red one threw some coins on the counter, prompting Tap to take a few tankards and head for the keg on the end of the room.

“Hey hey!” said the sand-colored one, spotting Scroll. “Got ya before ya left, huh?”

“Gunner and I,” said the red pony, “had a few questions.”

“Oh?” asked Scroll, straightening himself. “Well, you caught me just in time.”

“Well,” said Gunner, “I was just wondering, with Trixie?”

“Yes?” asked Scroll. “I think I might know what you’re going to ask. I asked this same question when I first read the–”

“So Trixie and Twilight totally hooked up, right?” asked Gunner.

“Story...” Scroll blinked, before slowly sinking into a chair. He stared at Gunner for a few seconds, his face completely blank, as though he were still waiting for Gunner’s question. It were as though he simply did not hear or understand the soldier’s question. “Wait, what?”

“Gunner here...” sighed the red pony, “Seems to think that it’s obvious that the two should’ve gotten together.”

“Hey, they have a ton in common,” said Gunner.

Tap, who had returned with two tankards full of foamy beer, gave a snort of laughter. “Seriously?” She shook her head, giving one of the tankards to the red pony.

“That’s what I said,” the red pony said, taking a drink.

“Shuddup, Mark,” said Gunner, also presented with a tankard.

“Now, Rainbow Dash and Applejack I can see having something going on,” said Tap, setting up a bottle on the counter. “Their entire relationship just reeks of repression.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “I’d rather not talk about this again,” he said. “Besides, if Rainbow Dash was attracted to anypony it would probably be one of the Wonderbolts.”

“Okay.” Tap raised a punctuating hoof. “That I can buy.”

“Um...” said Scroll, looking back and forth between the three arguing ponies. “Is that the... did you have another question, Trigger Mark?”

“Sorry, sorry...” Trigger Mark shook his head, flustered at the bizarre tangent the conversation had taken. “I got distracted. Anyway, I wanted to ask you... if Applejack didn’t learn anything from the ordeal with the Flim Flam Brothers, then, well...” His eyes shifted and he scratched his head with a hoof. “Why did they feel the need to include that story and letter?”

“Ah,” Scroll cleared his throat as loudly as he could, grateful for a slightly more intellectual topic of conversation. “Well, you see, it’s not really so much a matter of what she learned, but it’s about what we learn from her story. Does that make sense?”

Trigger Mark rubbed his chin. “I guess it does.”

“And one more thing,” added Scroll, with a little grin. “Consider how she acted when she tried to harvest all the apples by herself. Now consider how she accepted her friends’ help here.” He gave a thin smile and tapped his temple with his hoof. “She did learn.”

___________

As the missionaries headed down the road, Scroll stopped and looked at the “FREE WATER” sign on the tavern. Then he looked down at the mess of toppled barrels, their contents spilled into the street.

“Think it was Buzz?” asked White.

“Yeah,” said Scroll. “Tap’s got a good idea, moving the barrels inside.”

“Maybe...” White pawed the dirt nervously. “I dunno, it’s like... I feel more comfortable just having it out in the open. Like, an invitation that you can just have it with no strings attached. Moving it inside just feels, eh... like we expect something from them.”

“Yeah...” Scroll tilted his head from side to side. “But I don’t think we’re asking for a whole lot. Just a little time and consideration. Besides...” He bit his lip. “Move them inside and that means that this can’t happen. And imagine if he didn’t just tip them over. What if he, like, peed in them or something?”

“Oh...” The moment of realization White with a dawning look of disgust. “Oh. Eugh.”

“Yeah,” said Scroll. He took a deep breath. “Like, leaving them out and unattended, a pony could do all kinds of... stuff...” His last words were a hushed mumble, as though he were letting the thought get away from him.

The two walked up to their first door of the day, their backs laden with book-filled saddlebags, and knocked on the door.

“Ooh, they even have a little mail slot,” said White, admiring the door. “I wonder–”

“Who goes there?” asked a snarling voice as the barrel of a gun slammed through the opening.

“Nothing!” said Scroll a little too quickly.

“Scroll, don’t be alarmed,” said White, as one of the pamphlets floated out of the sack, rolled into a tube, and stuck itself in the barrel of the gun. “We’re sorry, sir, we’ll leave you be,” he said to the gun, and it went back into the house, pamphlet and all.

“Slick,” said Scroll.

“Why, thank you.”

The two missionaries promptly hurried away from the house and down the road. They made their way through the market square, which afforded them little opportunities to evangelize, but plenty of time to talk. In the square they passed two soldiers who were chattering to each other about guns and mares. White watched them with a slightly concerned look.

“Scroll,” said White. “I have a question for you about the soldiers.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think they actually take us seriously?” asked White, still watching the pair of soldiers. “Or are they just here because the general told them to?”

“Well...” Scroll searched for an answer. He thought about the situation earlier with Gunner and Trigger Mark. “I don’t really know. They come every week, and they do seem to like it... so I think that’s a success.”

“Yes,” White said, returning his gaze to Scroll. His face was drawn back in a scrunched, slightly irritated. “It’s a success, but is it enough?”

“Well... what do you mean?” asked Scroll.

“Well...” White made a few clicks to himself and pawed at the dirt with his hooves. “I don’t really know what I mean. It’s like, well, what’s our real goal here? What’s this mission about?”

“We’re here to teach the ponies about the magic of friendship.”

“Yeah, but...” White gave a grunt and clutched at his temple with a hoof. “What about the war?”

Scroll looked at him. The dull murmur of ponies in the marketplace continued as usual, though the missionaries seemed to have grown deaf to it. A few passing earth ponies shot them annoyed glances as the two blocked the road.

“It’s just...” White took a deep breath. His hooves seemed glued to the ground, like he was trying to anchor himself. “We’re in a warzone and we want to stop the war and the only members of our congregation are the darn soldiers and if they don’t take it seriously then what’s the point of it I mean we want to stop it but we want to convince them to stop it but what if they don’t want to or what if they can’t stop even if they do want to and...”

A passing earth pony shoved him out of the way, cutting off his exasperated rant. White stumbled into Scroll, who was himself caught off-guard and stepped backwards. The two looked at the pony who had bumped into White, a big burly stallion who cast them one narrow-eyed glance and a cranky snort before going about his day.

Scroll looked back at White. The unicorn had by now caught his breath, but his now slightly unkempt mane hinted at his stress. “White...” Scroll whispered. White held his breath, as Scroll dipped his head and gently nuzzled his chest. The unicorn smiled and lifted his chin.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’ll find a way.” He drew back, looking at White. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

___________

They stood atop a giant rock, overlooking the sea, far from the town. Scroll stood at the edge and beamed out over the water.

“Since the mission house got taken down, I realized that the library isn’t safe in the town.” He turned to face White. “So we can build it out here! Right on this rock, looking over the sea.”

White watched him. There was a serene smile on Scroll’s face – it was like the guy could practically see his library already.

“It’ll be out of the town,” he continued, looking back out over the water. “Out of the way. Those who want to can get away from all the, all the hustle and bustle and unpleasantness of the town and come here. It’ll be quiet, and they can read, or they can just sit out here and look out at the sea...”

White walked up next to him, sharing his gaze over the ocean. “I think that’s great.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

The two sat there for a minute. Then Scroll spoke up.

“Though there’s one problem...”

White looked at him, an uneasy, concerned expression on his face. “What’s that...?” he asked cautiously.

Scroll looked at him, took a deep breath, and said, “How are we going to actually get it built?”

White thought for a moment, and his face lit up. “I think...” His eyes narrowed and his mouth pulled into a sly grin as he lowered his voice. “I have an idea.”

___________

“Alright, everypony, put down your name right here. Everypony who works here gets twenty Party Points! Save up Party Points and get fabulous prizes!”

White and Scroll sat at a table, White enthusiastically encouraging the congregation to sign up. The band of soldiers was already at work constructing the building, enticed by the offer of fabulous prizes. Scroll, however, was a little less than stoked, as he leaned into his partner and asked in a tiny whisper: “Exactly what prizes are we offering?”

“I’ll get to that later...” White said through his teeth, still smiling. “Thank you!” he said to a soldier signing up.

Tap walked straight up to the table, looking over the list.

“Fabulous prizes, huh?” she asked.

Both of the missionaries smiled. “Yes,” they said in unison.

Tap tilted her head, a knowing smile on her face. “Well, I’d sign up, but I don’t really feel like doing any backbreaking physical work today. Besides, a girl has her other work already. Good luck on this deal.” She looked at the job the soldiers were doing, putting up supports for the walls. “Sounds fun. I think I like reading,” she finished with a wink at Scroll.

“Hey, guys!” shouted Barrel as he appeared over the edge of the rock. A small keg was on his back, and a stack of tankards hanging on the side. “I brought something!” He made his way to the table and hauled the keg onto the side, before loudly announcing, “Free beer!”

Almost immediately, the soldiers all but dropped what they were doing and made a beeline for the keg.

“Does this count as a fabulous prize?” Scroll asked.

“I’m not sure...” said White.

The soldiers, however, did not seem to care, and merely grabbed tankards and started filling them. Tap pulled Barrel aside.

“Barrel,” she said. “Exactly... what did you mean by ‘free beer’?”

“Well, I thought that since the soldiers were working so hard at it, they could use some...” His voice trailed off as he saw Tap’s flat, dull-eyed expression. He stood there, the wheels in his head quietly spinning for a good six seconds before Tap’s meaning began to sink in.

“Oh. Ohh...” he said sheepishly. He brought one hoof up to rub one of his forelegs. “Sorry. I...” he mumbled. “I should’ve asked, I guess.”

“Yes you should’ve.” Tap looked at Barrel, his head hanging a little lower out of embarrassment. She lifted a hoof to his chin. “Hey, hey, it’s just one keg.” Her eyes shifted. “How watered down is it?” she whispered.

“Very.”

“Good.”

Scroll looked at the soldiers, biting his lip and softly tapping his hoof against the table.

“Excuse me?” he asked. The soldiers didn’t answer. Spotting a spare tankard, Scroll grabbed it and whacked it on the table. Only a few soldiers seemed to take heed and looked at him. “Excuse me!” The rest of the soldiers fell silent and looked at him (save for Gunner, who insisted on finishing the sentence he was already engaged in). “Well, sorry to cut this a little short, but I don’t think it’s a very good idea if we work on this while...”

“No,” said White. “Definitely not.”

“So, why don’t we get something different, like sarsaparilla, or punch...”

“Not punch!” White exclaimed, perhaps a little louder than was actually appropriate. Everyone stared at him, the soldiers at a loss. “Sorry...” he said. “Just... bad things can happen with punch.”

“Good things too,” mumbled Tap.

White went back to thinking, and an idea hit him. “How about lemonade?”

Scroll grinned. “Yes, that sounds like...” He stopped. For a minute, the world seemed to stop, like a great, wonderful wheel had finally clicked into place.

“We can make lemonade?” Scroll asked, very slowly.

“I... think so.” White looked at him – it was his turn to be perplexed. “Can’t we? I mean, this island grows lemons, right?” He looked around, unsure. “I mean, you’ve got a forest... it grows stuff... lemons included, right?”

“Yeah, we got some,” said Tap. “I’ve never bothered to use them with anything, though... Why?”

“Uhh, Brother Scroll?” asked one of the soldiers. “Are you, uh...”

“He gonna build a lemon machine now?” asked another.

Scroll sat there for a minute. His posture slouched and he blinked, as though he were being given an insultingly obvious explanation for something. Then, at long last, he said, “I’m a huge idiot.”

___________

Carpenter and his son Buzz sat on either end of a small wooden table, an oil lamp burning between them. They ate their dinner in silence, not looking at each other. It was always like this. Buzz never did have anything to say to his father, the old stallion seemingly lost in bitter thoughts. This time, however, the old stallion spoke.

"The horner came into my shop the other day," he said.

"Yeah?" asked Buzz.

"He said he wanted to buy a bookcase..." Carpenter grunted. "He's got a lot of gall showing his face around here. After what he did."

Buzz nodded, but he didn't look at his father.

"But the horner says he didn't do it."

Buzz continued eating.

"Buzz."

He stopped. Buzz, dreading what was to come, slowly looked up. His father’s face was blank, almost accusing in its stillness.

"Is there something you have to say?"

"No," said Buzz. "He's a lying faggot."

"That's what I thought..." said Carpenter, though the tone said clearly that he was not in agreement. "Somehow I find myself thinking: 'what if he didn't do it?' He says he didn't do it, and while I wouldn't trust that shit-eating grin as far as I could throw it, things seem not to add up..."

Buzz looked up at him. Carpenter stared impassively at him. The wheels in Buzz’s head stalled, unable to think of what he could do to deflect or distract his father. There was no way for him to avoid it. "Dad..."

"Yes?"

"Dad, look, it's nothing, he's lying, he–"

"I think I can tell for myself what is and isn't 'nothing,' Buzz." He leaned forward. “Buzz, I want you to tell me: did you lie?”

“What?” Buzz asked, his voice strained in incredulity. “No! I’d–”

“Buzz,” said Carpenter. “Did you lie?”

“I... I...” Buzz stared at his father. Carpenter’s stern, accusatory gaze would not go away. They each waited for the other to give in. And then Buzz ran.

“Buzz!”

Buzz burst out the door and tore down the road, as Carpenter scrambled after him. He stood by the door and shouted after him.

“Buzz! Get back here!”

___________

Tap unceremoniously shoved the last customer out the door with a thump on the backside and shut the door, before turning back inside.

“Okay...” She walked back inside. “So what’s this big deal you’ve got here with the lemons?”

Scroll was seated at a table with several things in front of him – a parchment, a quill, a lit lantern, and two bowls, one empty and the other full of lemons. White stood next to him, looking over his shoulder.

“Well...” Scroll adjusted his glasses. “General Quake has been screening our letters. We can only communicate what he lets us or wants us to. So, we, well...”

“We can’t talk about what’s really going on,” White continued. “We can’t tell them about Clip’s condition, we can’t tell them about how bad the race relations, or about the threats and violence...”

“But,” said Scroll, “I think we might have another way. If we have lemons, and if we have lemons, we have lemon juice, and if we have lemon juice, we have...”

He took one of the lemons and placed it in the bowl, softly squeezing it with his hoof. The lemon’s juices oozed out. Not satisfied with the result, Scroll repeated it with a second hoof. Then, once the bowl had enough juice in it, he dipped the quill into it. Tap watched as Scroll took the quill from the lemon juice and appeared to write something onto the paper, but nothing appeared. However, when Scroll, held the paper up to the lantern, the words ‘Secret Message’ spontaneously appeared.

“Invisible ink,” finished White.

“Bingo.”

“Damn...” Tap examined the paper, clearly impressed. “So, what are you going to write them?”

Scroll and White looked at each other, at a loss for words.

“I don’t know...” said Scroll.

“What?” Tap tilted her head incredulously. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

“Well...” Scroll shrugged. “Okay, we write to the Fraternity, tell them what’s happening here, and... and then what?”

“Parents panic,” mused White. “The Fraternity could cancel the mission and pull us out.”

“Assuming General Quake doesn’t kill us...” Scroll mumbled. “And if we piss him off...”

The room fell silent. White and Tap stared at him. White opened his mouth, sputtering for a bit, trying to search for a reassuring thought.

“Well...” said White. “He... he wouldn’t do that, would he?”

“I...” Tap faltered. “I don’t know.”

“Quake puts up with us because he finds us useful,” said Scroll. “The first letter we sent wasn’t pre-approved, and he nearly killed me because of it.”

“But Quake isn’t stupid,” said Tap. “He doesn’t want to cause an ‘incident.’”

“That’s right.” White nodded reassuringly. “That’s what he said when he stopped the mob.”

“What incident?” Scroll asked. “The first letter we sent, we told them that the other two missionaries had disappeared. Nothing happened.”

“Well, we didn’t say that they’d disappeared,” reasoned White. “We just told them that they’d gone to work with the other towns.”

“Yes, but...” Scroll looked around the tavern. “What about this place? General Monarch flattened it in the last attack, and what happened?” He lowered his head. “Nothing. The Fraternity...” He crumpled up the paper. “The Fraternity can’t help us. We can still get supplies, but when the shit hits the fan...” White winced at the swear. “We’re on our own.”

Scroll sighed, staring at his discovery which might not have been as useful as it seemed. His eyes bored down at his lemon juice words, wishing that the Secret Message could provide some sort of clear solution. Then the silence was broken.

“We’re not on our own.” White walked from the table and towards the bar’s counter. “We’ve got each other. And that’s what the Fraternity’s really about.”

“And hey,” said Tap, putting a hoof on Scroll’s shoulder. “You’re smarter than Quake is. Just make sure you don’t piss him off and you’ll be fine.”

Scroll raised his chin and smiled at her. “Thanks.” He returned to the parchment and folded it up. “You’re probably right. It’s just scary, really.”

“I know.” White drew himself up into a tall, almost self-deprecatingly pompous stance. “After Earthquake Island, it will be impossible to be freaked out by pranks on Nightmare Night!” Scroll snickered.

The quiet moment of camaraderie, however, was interrupted when the door burst open. Tap groaned. “Hey, we’re closed!”

Buzz stood there in the doorway, panting, and his eyes frantically darted around the room until they fell on Brother White. “You!”

“Um...” White looked back at him. Then, with no warning, Buzz charged into the room at through himself at White’s front legs.

“I HATE YOU!” he screamed as he beat his hooves against White’s front legs. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU...”

White’s face pulled back into a grimace as he looked at Tap and Scroll, the former of whom rolled her eyes and the latter simply shrugged. While Buzz continued wailing on him, it was about as severe a beating as one could expect from an angry child on an adult. White just looked down as Buzz kept hitting him, and his blows became slower and weaker.

“I hate you... I hate you...” he moaned. “I... I hate you...” He stopped and sank to the floor, and began to sob uncontrollably. “It’s not fair... It’s n-not fucking fair...”

Brother White looked down at the broken colt and felt completely lost. Tap’s expression, however, was one of detached contempt.

“So you finally admitted it, huh kid?” she asked.

“Buzz!” shouted a voice from outside, before Carpenter appeared in the doorway. He looked at his son, crumpled at White’s hooves. Hoofsteps clattered from upstairs as Barrel and Clip burst from downstairs, roused from their sleep.

“What happened?” asked Barrel.

“We heard shouting,” said Clip.

The room was still, with no sounds save for Buzz’s intermittent sobs. He lifted his head, looking around, his eyes full of fear as though he were a wounded animal. Carpenter retained his composure as best as he could, though his face betrayed a look of confusion.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

“Am I the only one who knows what’s going on?” Tap stepped towards White, but Buzz whirled around at her.

“Shut the fuck up!” he snarled. “Shut the fuck up you–”

“Buzz.” Carpenter did not even need to raise his voice for his son to fall silent again. “I think I know what’s going on here.” Buzz raised his terrified face to look at his father. “We’re going home.” Carpenter simply turned and started out the doorway. Buzz feebly got to his feet, miserably trudging after him.

White marched forward. “Carpenter,” he said. The other ponies stopped, and Carpenter slowly turned around. “Just... take care of him. Please. He needs you.”

Carpenter snorted and continued out. Buzz looked back helplessly at the missionaries. He almost opened his mouth, but his head lowered, his energy spent from the outburst.

Scroll cleared his voice and finally spoke up.  “The library will be opening tomorrow.” He gave a soft, reassuring smile to the colt. “You can come whenever you want.”

Buzz nodded silently and followed out the door.

---

Chapter 27

If there was a list of cliches that applied to General Quake, “large and in charge” was probably at the top. When he walked through a crowd, the other ponies moved out of his way like earth tilled by a plow. Following behind him, therefore, proved to be highly expedient.

Tap took that initiative as Quake waded through the marketplace. With the way the ponies filed out of the general’s way, she was afforded some very welcome breathing room. Scroll’s locket hung by its gold chain around her neck, nesting against her breast.

The general came to a stop in front of a fruit stand and glared at the produce, as the hapless stall owner stood, shifting his hooves and looking around, as though hoping for a way out. Tap, however, cocked her head and peered at Quake’s grumpy frown.

“Since when are you into shopping?” she asked. “Or since when do you need to shop?”

“I don’t,” he said, pulling away as the stall keeper let out a very loud sigh of relief. “But I don’t want a bunch of ponies running up to me about shortages and shit. So I go around, check on the markets.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, still keeping her eyes on the general. He surveyed more of the market from where he stood, his eyes glancing from the fruit stand to the vegetable stand to the bread stand. Tap stood idly by and gave a lazy flick of her tail. She let out a bored sigh, and a pleasant fume wafted into her nose. It smelled like apple pie... In fact, it smelled a lot like Scroll’s apple pie. “Wait a minute...”

“Huh?”

“Who’s selling apple pies out here?” Tap set off in front of him, which went a little slower than when she was behind him, as she wasn’t exactly a crowd-plougher. However, she didn’t have to look far for the source of the smell. Sure enough, there was a stand set up, stacked with apple pies, and sitting in charge was a very pleased-looking Barrel. When he saw his sister, however, his beaming smile faltered and his mouth opened in confusion. “Barrel?” Tap asked. “You’re supposed to be running the tavern!”

“What?” he asked. “I thought you were supposed to...” His ears drooped. “Oh yeah. I was supposed to do that.”

“So...” Tap’s eyes narrowed. “Nopony’s running the tavern.”

“Um...” Barrel tapped on the ground with his hoof. “Actually, I think Bottle Top’s running it... He said that he’d...” He blinked. “That... probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“Probably,” intoned Tap in the lowest monotone she could muster. “What are you doing here, anyway?” A passing mare nudged her out of the way, licking her chops at the sight and smell of the pies.

“Giving away free pies,” explained Barrel, before turning to the hungry pony and forking one of them over. “Here you are.”

The mare walked off with her pie as Tap watched after her. “Huh.” She looked back at Barrel and the assortment of pies. “So what put you up to this?”

“Oh, nothin’.” He shrugged. “I just thought it’d be fun. I used Scroll’s recipe.”

“You did pretty well.”

“Yeah...” Barrel’s eyes shifted downward. “Don’t look in the trash, by the way.”

Tap chuckled. Barrel bit his lip as his eyes looked over her shoulder – the general was standing there, his face in that perpetual scowl.

“Are we done here?” he asked.

Tap nodded. “Barrel, you should get back to the tavern before the bum trips and falls down the cellar stairs.”

Barrel nodded. “Okay. I’ll just have to get wrapped up here...”

General Quake, meanwhile, had simply resumed walking down the market street. The ponies bustled around him as his glance washed over them; bored, disinterested, and contemptuous.

“Something annoying you more than usual?” Tap asked, catching up to him.

“You mean apart from everypony being a fucking idiot?” he grunted.

“RUNAWAY BARREL!” shouted a voice.

Tap turned around in time to see the crowds parting and, sure as the voice said, there was a runaway barrel – a massive water barrel that was ploughing down the road, not merely rolling, but bouncing high in the air. A long, sustained, yelling came from inside, rising abruptly in pitch every time it hit the ground.

“White!” cried a voice behind, as Brother Scroll ran after it, his red tie flapping in the wind as he desperately tried to keep up.

“I! Knew! This! Would! N’t! Work!” shouted White from inside the barrel, each syllable punctuated by his vehicle’s thump on the ground.

The two tore down the road until, by some miraculous, nonsensical force, the bouncing barrel turned the corner and disappeared from sight, with hapless Brother Scroll giving chase behind.

The crowd stopped and stared at where they had disappeared.

“Good point,” said Tap.

Quake snorted and walked on. “You and me, Tap,” he grunted. “We’re the only two ponies with any fucking brains on this island.”

The unending hubub of the crowd died away as the two left the market, turning to more dull, dusty streets in the town, lined on the sides with the uninviting wood houses. Soon, the only sound was the dull clop clopping of hooves. Quake’s, however, were more of a thud, thud, thud, thud. His eyes narrowed and shifted their attention to the gold locket around Tap’s neck. He tilted his head, looking down at her with a quizzical squint in his eye.

“Still wearing it?” he asked. “I thought you’d’ve pawned it off by now. It’d get you a few bits.”

Tap chuckled. She lifted a hoof to the locket and turned it around, smiling at it. “I thought I’d sell it, but, well, it’s nice to have something that’s just mine. Besides, I’m doing pretty damn well right now. Just so long as my brother’s absence didn’t mean lost business.” She looked back down the street where they came from, the sudden slight doubt causing her hoof to paw at the ground. “Ah, well.”

“You’re soft for those two,” he said. “Let them into your house and everything.”

“Hey,” said Tap, “hasn’t turned out badly for me yet, has it? Seemed like a good idea.”

“Well, just make sure they get some more fucking cocoa,” grumbled Quake. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tap, her head tilted and her eyebrow raised in a quizzical arch. “It calms my fucking nerves.”

“Ah. Besides,” she continued absentmindedly. “Scroll and I are dating.”

Quake let out an abrupt snort, but not his usual irritated one – this was the kind of snort that is usually accompanied by milk through the nose, and Tap turned and saw Quake with an open-mouthed grin as he laughed. It was a... jarring sight, of sorts. It was as if, for a brief instance, the general had suddenly gained Brother White’s sense of cheer. The general lifted a mighty hoof and stomped it on the ground, shaking the street around them. Tap backed up, away from the general lest he accidentally step on her. The small earthquake, however, seemed to sober the general, and he shook his head, and he looked at her with a smile that might have been considered ‘thoughtful’ had it not come from such a massive meathead.

“Dating?” he asked. “What, you fuck him for free?”

“Hey, hey,” Tap said with a swish of her tail. “Proprietress’ secret.” Her eyes caught the general’s face turning again, though, the smile curling into a cruel smirk more befitting of what she knew of him.

“He said he’d take you to Equestria, didn’t he?” he asked. Tap didn’t answer, but just pawed the dirt and flipped her mane, like he hadn’t said anything. “I think I like that locket,” he continued. “I want you to wear it when I fuck you.”

___________

A soft swishing sound flitted through the air of the library as Barrel, feather-duster in mouth, worked at the bookcase. He tilted his head to the side and took a step backwards. Not pleased with his work, he turned around and proceeded to give another go-round with his tail. As his tail was rather short, however, this largely amounted to backing into the bookcase and shaking his rump at it.

The library was cozy, even if it only had one bookcase. Scroll sat behind a desk near the front door, occasionally throwing a glance at the bookcase, as though checking to make sure it was alright with the arrangements.

The building was not particularly lavish, consisting of one large room and a lot of tables and chairs, with Scroll’s desk near the front. Windows lined the walls, ensuring that it was well-lit at all times of the day.

He sat there at the desk, looking happily ahead at the doorway. Despite the fact that nopony was coming. He let out a little sigh.

“You okay?” asked a voice from above. Scroll looked up at saw Clip, sitting on one of the rafters.

“Yes,” said Scroll, looking back at the door. He then quickly looked back up at Clip. “How’d you get up there?”

Clip looked at his surroundings up on the ceiling. “Uh...” He looked back down at Scroll. “I don’t know...”

The logbook listed only a few books checked out. Clip and Scroll were still reading through their bedtime book. One mare had checked out a cookbook, and a soldier had, funnily enough, picked up a book of poems. Scroll paused for a minute when he read that, musing to himself on what other hobbies the seemingly simple soldiers indulged in their spare time.

“Are you...” Scroll paused. “Are you okay up there?”

“Yeah...” Clip said, laying on his belly and letting one hoof dangle over the edge. “Yeah, I’m okay.” His eyes scanned the surroundings, still unable to tell how he’d gotten up there. “I think I’ll need some help getting down. Could you catch me or something? When I wanna come down, anyway?”

“Sure thing,” said Scroll.

Barrel, meanwhile, stood before the bookcase, smiling at himself at his work, as the shelves were now so clean that they literally sparkled (almost like White’s teeth). He chewed on the feather duster, briefly wondering how that was possible.

Satisfied that he’d done as marvelous a job as was possible in those circumstances, he turned to trot out the door.

“Well, see ya!” he said.

“Barrel, wait.”

He stopped, turning to looked at Scroll with a cocked eyebrow.

“I was thinking of doing a little book club here.” The missionary smiled and rubbed the back of his neck, casting a glance at the bookcase. “I was thinking maybe you should pick the first book?”

“Really?” Barrel sat down and stared off into space. “Me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Gee... Ah, I dunno... Hm... I don’t really read a lot.”

“Well, that’s okay,” said Scroll. “Just pick something that seems interesting. Then everyone in the club can read a chapter of it a week. If you have trouble, I’d be happy to help.”

Barrel looked up at him, hauling his admittedly heavy behind off of the floor. “You’d do that?”

“Sure!”

“Well, uh...” Barrel walked up to the bookcase, haltingly, as though he were sneaking up on a large, sleeping animal with very sharp teeth. “How about...” He grabbed a book with a fancy purple cover and gold letters off of the shelf. “Hff ohn?”

Scroll smiled and nodded. Apparently, satisfied with the answer, Barrel trotted off, book in his mouth, and shut the front door behind him.

Letting out a yawn, Scroll leaned back in his chair and stretched. I should’ve brought a magazine... He thought to himself. He hadn’t unduly expected the library to be crowded, so he should’ve brought something to keep himself occupied–

He noticed the bookshelf. Oh, duh.

The collection of books was one of the things Scroll was most pleased with. Even if it only had one shelf, there were still plenty of nice books. And he expected that the Fraternity would send more of them. News of the success with the water machine would reach them soon enough, and the Fraternity would be very pleased. He could see the headlines in his mind...

Missionaries Relieve Drought through Inventive Application of Science!

A wide smile crept onto his face, despite his best efforts to the contrary. He started giggling to himself, briefly forgetting about his desire to read a book.

“Hey,” called Clip from above. “I think I’d like to come down now.”

Scroll chuckled and walked under the beam where Clip was sitting. He situated himself before sitting down and outstretching his forelegs. Clip stood and balanced on the beam, looking down. He wavered, trying to eyeball the distance between himself and the floor and, in one leap of faith, hopped down, landing in Scroll’s outstretched arms with an “oof!” Scroll let him down on the floor, though he immediately hopped onto the desk instead.

“Thanks,” said Clip.

“Don’t mention it.” Scroll got up from the floor and sauntered over to the bookcase. His eyes deliberately scanned the titles of the books as he tried to pick one out to read.

“Scroll?”

He looked back. Clip was sitting on the desk, one hoof scratching at an ear and the other planted on the wooden surface.

“I...” he started. “I thought I should tell you something...”

Scroll tilted his head, a cautious eyebrow raised. “Yes?”

“Well... that thing that the unicorn general left for White?”

“The teleporter?”

Clip nodded. “Well, I found it after the flood.” He looked down and traced some circles on the desk with his hoof. “I saved it.”

Scroll was silent. Immediately one question flooded into his mind, which Clip soon asked. Clip looked up at him, but not directly. “What if...” He paused. “What if White decides to go with them?”

Scroll stood there, looking at him with a look of confusion.

“If White decides to...” he repeated. “Wha...” he sputtered, a flustered smile fighting its way onto his face. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know... Just... well...  Is White in trouble?”

“I... I don’t know.” He walked from the bookshelf over to Clip. “But we should tell him.”

“We have to be honest with him?” Clip asked.

Scroll chuckled a little, a pang of guilt slipping into the tone. “Yes. This is something that affects all of us.”

Clip nodded.

“And what’s more,” Scroll continued, “we have to trust that White will do what’s best for the mission. And we have to show him that we trust him, too.”

Clip nodded again and took a deep breath.

“Hey,” said Scroll, “it’s good that you told me.”

“I hid it,” said Clip. “I hid it with my dirty socks. So if the unicorns try to use it they’ll get a noseful of dirty socks.”

A snort of laughter escaped Scroll’s nose. “Clever...” he chortled. “Very clever.” His attention, however, was soon drawn to the door. “Do you think the closed doors make the place seem unwelcome?”

“I dunno... maybe?”

Scroll decided that this was good enough reason to head over and open the doors. Seems too unwelcome with them shut, he reiterated to himself.

“Scroll?”

He looked back. Clip was still seated on the desk, looking expectantly at him. “Why don’t you have friends at home?” he asked. “I mean, you have friends here, with Brother White and Tap and Barrel and the soldiers.”

“Er...” Scroll bit his lip and chewed over it, trying to think of an explanation. “Shy, I guess. I always kind of kept to myself. I don’t have a very winning personality. Making friends here, well... White’s helped me a lot with that.”

When he hauled the doors open, he was treated to the wonderful sight of the rock overlooking the sea. He also saw a little colt sitting on the ground.

“Buzz?”

The colt nodded and stood up. “Can I come in?” he asked. His voice was soft, and somewhat higher that it had been before. The ‘tough guy’ act was nowhere to be seen.

“Yes, of course,” Scroll said, holding the door open.

Buzz trudged into the library, his posture slumped and his face staring flat at the floor. Clip watched him from his vantage point on the desk, one eye narrowed, like he wasn’t convinced of Buzz’s sincerity. However, he said nothing. Nopony said anything until Buzz pulled up a seat at one of the tables.

“Are you okay?” Scroll asked, taking the seat opposite him.

“Dad isn’t talking to me,” Buzz mumbled. “I don’t know if he’s doing it because I lied or because I...” his voice trailed off. “I don’t even know if he still cares about me.”

“Well...” Scroll said. “I don’t know. I don’t know him. But I think he does care.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, he did try to murder my friend...”

Buzz let out an abrupt snicker, before catching himself and recoiling.

“It’s okay,” Scroll whispered.

Buzz was silent.

“I don’t hate you, Buzz, or your father,” said Scroll. “And I don’t think White does, either.”

“Even after... that?”

“Even after that,” said Scroll. “I get that you’re scared. What you did was wrong. Very wrong. but I think I understand why you did it. And Buzz?”

The colt looked up, blinking.

“We’ll be your friends, if you let us,” said Scroll. “Just as long as there’s no more graffiti or slurs or peeing in the water or lying to get us killed. Okay?”

Buzz nodded.

“And no throwing rocks,” added Clip, with an attempt at a menacing wave of his hoof. Scroll stifled a giggle as best he could.

“If...” Buzz said. “If it gets worse with dad...” He looked up, and asked pleadingly, “can I stay with you?”

Scroll smiled warmly. “Yes.”

___________

“No.”

Tap extinguished the candle on the windowsill with a swift press of her hoof. Scroll was already in bed under the covers, his glasses folded neatly on the nightstand.

“There is no way I am letting that little shit under my roof,” she said. “I mean, let’s see... the guy makes some of the crassest catcalls at me, which is all the more wrong because he’s a kid and gay, he throws rocks at my brother, slaps dongs all over the door which is a fucking bitch to clean off, he knocks over water barrels meaning the customers track water and mud all over the floor, also a fucking bitch to clean up, and then there’s that whole thing about the lynch mob.”

“He’s scared, Tap.”

“Of course,” Tap sighed. “He’s scared. Well, he can join the club. I’m scared about Barrel’s safety every time I hear the cannons go off or I see clouds in the sky. Barrel gets scared every time he sees some burly asshole with a leer walking up the stairs. And you two get scared every time the general or a soldier looks at you funny. You’re scared of the general. White’s scared of the general. Hell, I’m scared of the general.” She turned around, and Scroll could see her ears were pressed flat against the sides of her head. “Everyone’s scared. Everyone’s scared and he’s still a shit.”

“He’s a kid,” said Scroll. “And he’s going to need someone to support him, and if his father doesn’t... Have a heart, Tap.” He put on a wide-eyed pout. “Pretty please?”

“Oh...” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, alright. But!” she added, just as Scroll’s pout shifted to a wide smile, “if he... comes here, if he puts his hoof out of line once, for an inch...”

“Got it.”

Satisfied that the conversation was over, Tap made her way to the other side of the bed and climbed in under the covers. Scroll, however, kept his eyes on her.

“You’re scared of him?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Of the general,” Scroll explained. “I mean, you’re on good terms with him.”

“Hey, I’m also the one that has sex with him. Think about that for a bit.” She watched as he grimaced. “Yeah.” She leaned into her pillow and sighed.

“How long have you known him?” Scroll asked. “I mean, not if it’s something you’d rather not talk about?”

“Known him? Well...” She looked at the ceiling, thinking back. “He’s been the general here as long as I can remember. I think there was another one, back when I was really little... General Cliffside used to be in charge. But I was too young to remember him. By the time I was old enough to understand what was going on around me, it was Quake running the place. Though I didn’t really meet him until I was older, after mom and dad died and I’d started, well... You get the idea. He just decided he liked me.” She rolled over on her side, facing him. “I don’t think you’ve got a lot to be scared of with him, really. You just annoy him. White, sure, I’d worry about him, but it’s not like you’ve done anything that could set him off.”

Scroll was silent.

“You... haven’t done anything,” repeated Tap. “Right?”

Scroll’s eyes turned to a blank stare, as he slowly looked up at the ceiling.

“Scroll?” asked Tap, a hint of caution creeping into her voice. “Scroll, what did you do?”

“The water machine,” Scroll intoned in a numb, stilted voice. “It’s fine. It’s completely fine and worked fine when I got it working. Fine.”

Tap raised her head and peered at him. “Is... is there something wrong with them?”

“No, that’s the thing,” said Scroll. “They’re fine.”

“Then...”

“That’s the thing,” he continued. “Quake didn’t think it was fine. He said the first barrel of water was too salty. But it actually wasn’t.”

Tap sat there for a few seconds, blinking as the wheels turned in her head. “Wait...”

“I was just at the end of my rope. He just made too many gay cracks. So I went to find and empty barrel for the thing, And I was feeling kind of, well, ‘up,’ and... well, I...”

“WOAH!” Tap yelled. Her eyes wide with alarm, and she seemed like she was about to fall off of the bed. “Y... you didn’t,” she stammered, gawking down at Scroll. The missionary’s face was solemn and grim as he lay there on the bed, the covers pulled halfway up over his face. “You... that...” Tap sputtered as her face contorted and scrunched as she went through several different expressions, before she let out one massive sigh and flopped back down onto the bed. “I don’t know whether to laugh or scream...”

“I’m gonna die...” Scroll whimpered. “If Quake finds out he’s gonna kill me...”

“Hey, hey,” Tap said. “Just... just relax, okay. Nopony knows about it. The thought never even crossed his mind, and as long as this doesn’t go beyond our bedroom, nothing will come of it. Hell, if you told him, he probably doesn’t even remember.” She rubbed her temples. “Fuck, Scroll. That... that’s crazy. It’s funny as hell, but... Shit.”

Scroll groaned, pulling the covers up to completely cover his face.

“Well, let’s just not worry about it. And hey.” She smiled. “That’s pretty ballsy of you,” she reassured, pulling them off of his face again.

“Please don’t mention my nethers...”

Tap let out another sigh and settled her head back onto the pillow. Her feelings were an odd mixture of relief, amusement, and alarm.

“I guess you’re right, though,” Scroll mumbled. “Still, I’m worried that if White does something–”

“Pretty sure nothing like that...”

“Still, if he gives Quake a reason to... I just worry he won’t be safe.”

The two lay there for a few minutes, not saying anything at all. The only sound was a soft ruffling of the sheets as Scroll scooched a little closer to Tap.

“Well,” whispered Tap. “I’ll stand by both of you. Then he won’t do a thing. White’ll be fine.”

Scroll smiled. “Thanks.” He took several deep breaths. “Mustn’t get too worried... can’t sleep if I’m stressed. Mind if I open the blinds? It’s a little dark in here.”

“Oh, sure.”

There were more sounds of shuffling in the sheets as he rolled out of bed and walked over to the window. He drew open the blinds and the silver moonlight poured in, illuminating the room. Tap watched him as he stood there, staring out at the night sky.

“What’s got you so interested?” asked Tap, propping herself up on the pillow.

“Oh, nothin’...” Scroll shrugged as he walked back. With the moonlight filling in, they could see each other a lot better. “It’s just gonna be a full moon in a few nights. So bright it’s almost like day, except you can’t get sunburned. It’s very...” He stopped at the edge of the bed, looking at Tap. She looked back at him, a curious eyebrow raised at his soft, dreamy expression as he just gazed back at her. “It’s very pretty.”

Tap chuckled as Scroll crawled into bed, the missionary letting out a relieved sigh, as though the light from the window was a comfort for him. As though he had desperately needed a night light.

“Does Brother White have songs about pretty nights?” Tap asked, putting her hooves behind her head.

“Probably a whole list.”

She laughed, but Scroll went silent for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“I wonder if he gets lonely,” he said at length.

“Hmm?”

“Well...” Scroll wiggled a little. “We’ve been sleeping together almost ever since we got on the island. Now we’ve sort of got this...” He raises his hooves and fumbled around with them. “Alternating bedding schedule...” He looked over at Tap. “Not that I’m complaining.” He added, to which Tap let out a quiet snicker. “But I just wonder how he’s taking it.”

They lay there for a while, their eyes shut, ready to drift off to sleep.

Then, Tap opened her eyes asked, “So, what were you thinking about when you did it?”

Scroll let out a high-pitched squeak and yanked the covers over his face.

Knock knock.

“Who’s there?” asked Scroll.

The door cracked open just a little, and White’s voice called through. “Hey,” he said. His muzzle just barely poked through the crack in the door, and both Scroll and White stared at it, as the moonlight gleamed off of White’s teeth when he spoke. “I was just putting together the letter for us to send to the Fraternity. I was just wondering about supplies. Are we low on toothpaste?”

“Um...” said Scroll. “I don’t think we are.”

“Only one pony uses it...” muttered Tap.

White produced a lengthy sheet of parchment from behind the door, which unrolled in midair and snaked all the way down to the floor. “Scarves?”

“We don’t need scarves,” said Scroll. “They don’t have winter here, and we got a bunch of scarves for Hearth’s Warming that we never used.”

“Oh yeah...” A scratching noise indicated that White had crossed the item out. “Milk?”

“I think we’re low on that,” said Scroll. “But nopony drinks that except us. I mean, it should be stuff the islanders need.”

“All right then, how about...” White continued listing things off, as Tap let out a long, silent sigh. She could all but feel herself sinking, melting into the bed.

“Cocoa?” White asked at last. Tap’s ears pricked up.

“Cocoa?” She lifted her head out of what seemed to her like a pit in her pillow. “The general... likes cocoa,” she finished matter-of-factly, before dropping her head back down onto the pillow. The door opened wider and White peered inside. Both missionaries looked at her curiously. “It calms his nerves.”

White just stood in the doorway. “Huh. Well, that’s nice to know.”

There was a pregnant pause as the three of them basked in silence, pondering over the image of General Quake daintily adding marshmallows to his mug, all the while scowling and cursing his overly large hooves.

“Of course he’d like cocoa,” muttered Scroll. “Who doesn’t?”

“It’s good for a lot of things,” said White. “It’s a nice, comforting drink, great when it’s cold... though it’s never cold here. It makes me think of a warm glowing fireplace, with friends and family around... cheerful, and... stuff.”

“Yeah,” agreed Scroll. “It makes me think of home at wintertime, and...” His voice trailed off as well. “I miss home sometimes,” he muttered, as White sighed in melancholy agreement.

Tap lay there in the middle of the awkward silence the missionaries left. She looked at White, who sulked as his mind went back home, where he would surely have been wearing a scarf. She looked at Scroll, whose eyes had drifted to the ceiling, no doubt absorbed in the invisible picture of his idyllic home life.

“You two seem lonely,” she said at length. “Hey, White.” His face raised up out of his homesick slump. “Why don’t you sleep with us tonight?”

Scroll sat up, his eyes a little wide with surprise at Tap’s suggestion. He gave a little cough, before reaching up to his face with a hoof only to realize that he’d taken his glasses off.

“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds nice.”

“Okay then!” White piped, with a bright yet dainty clop-clop on the floor as he trotted over to the bed.

___________

The tavern’s regular affairs proceeded at a dull, contented murmur. During the day things were never too hectic, though today was busier than usual. This left Barrel little time to enjoy his book, as he had to be drawn from his table to tend to customers.

To the relief of all parties involved, Barrel had been screwing up orders a lot less in the past few days, owing in part to his writing orders down on a notepad. Granted, there were still a few problems with the system – while he had assured himself that he would not forget an order, he could still forget the pony that ordered it. It occurred to him to attempt to draw the cutie mark of the ordering pony in question, but not only was he a poor artist, but he realized that this would require him to look at another stallion’s ass.

“Not that ale, you idiot!”

“Right! Right!” Barrel said as he scurried back to the counter to fetch the correct tankard. He set the current one down, assured that at least it was somepony’s order. Whose order, however, he could not remember...

“Hey! Where’s my order?”

That answered that question.

Once Barrel was satisfied that he’d served the customers correctly, he returned to the counter and back to the book. He had, however, lost his place yet again, and had to go back to the start of the page to catch up. The book gave him difficulty – the writing was at times extraordinarily dense, and the author was so fond of ironic humor that Barrel sometimes had to pause to wonder if he was being made fun of.

Ponykind always has and always will be playing at foalish games, which is quite tiresome to those of us who choose to grow up.

The door opened, and Barrel looked up in time to see the missionaries walk in, their ties ruffled and engaged in a conversation.

“Listen, comic books just don’t appeal to me,” said White.

“Well, what’s wrong with them?” Scroll asked.

“They’re just too violent... Hi Barrel!”

“Hi!”

“Hi! They’re not all violent...”

And that was the extent of the conversation that Barrel heard before they disappeared into the other room. He looked down at his book and began reading again, and realized more quickly this time that he’d read that line five times now. He proceeded to read the next page without any incident before the missionaries emerged from the room wearing flashy bowties and top hats.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

___________

The water machine was the best thing that had happened to Tap in ages. Now she could bathe and wash her hair as much as she wanted without worrying about the shortage. At this point she now understood why Brother White was so adamant about his daily showers; they simply felt wonderful.

She made her way up the stairs to the bedroom. Barrel had long since gone to sleep, and she found herself wondering whether she should force him to bathe regularly. He’d probably get annoyed, though, she thought, ultimately deciding against it. As she approached her bedroom, her mind wondered if she could take some hygiene tips from Brother White.

When she opened the door, however, she was greeted with a strange sight. Brother Scroll was lying on the bed, facing away from the door. He seemed to be wearing a tiara on his head, silver hoof slippers, and a clear blouse. Upon hearing the door open, he slowly lifted his head, propping himself up on one leg, and craned his neck back. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and he gave a soft, shy smile. Until he saw Tap's face, at which point the smile turned to a look of alarm. He scrambled to turn around – and the lacy outfit did not help him to do this – and sat up.

"T-Tap!" he sputtered. "I, uh..."

Tap stood there, her face blank. She just stared at Scroll as his blue face slowly turned red.

"Um..." a voice behind her said. She turned around and saw Brother White standing there, bedecked in fake gold armor.

“What...” Tap blinked, frozen where she stood. “What are you doing?”

“Well, uh...” Scroll said, fumbling around. As he wasn’t wearing his glasses, he didn’t have anything to fiddle with. “We thought you’d be a little longer with your bath...”

“We’re playing a game,” said White. Tap craned her head, looking over his costume. “We’re playing ‘Castle.’”

“Yeah!” Scroll sat up. “We’re pretending we live in Canterlot castle. He’s a guard, and I’m Princess Luna.” He smiled, letting out a tiny squeak. White pressed against the doorway, slipping past Tap, who just stood there, staring at the two roleplaying missionaries. Scroll spoke up again. “Wanna play?”

“Okay...” Tap stepped into the room. “What as?”

"Well, umm..." Scroll fumbled around for a bit, before finding his glasses. "Here, put these on." He put them on Tap's face, but left them lopsided as he rushed to the desk. Tap adjusted them, wondering to herself how he saw anything at all, before he came back with a stack of papers. "You can be the secretary!"

“Uh...” Tap watched as White floated the stack and a quill over in front of her. Sitting down, she extended her front legs as the materials fell into her hooves. “Huh. Okay, then. So how do I play?”

___________

In a bout of seeming spontaneity, Tap tossed her mane and laughed, skipping ahead of Scroll in the road. He followed after her at a brisk trot.

“Hold up!” he called after her. She didn’t stop, but slowed down to a walking pace, allowing him to catch up.

They left the town and slowed down to a leisurely walk along the beach on the way to the library. A few seagulls cried from above in the starlit night sky.

“You know, and don’t take offense, but I thought that whole playing pretend and dress-up thing would be really, really dumb,” she admitted. “But I had a lot of fun!”

“I’m glad.” Scroll pawed at his face and blushed. “Dressing up as a princess, well...”

“Aw, you make a pretty princess.”

Scroll’s blush deepened.

“Hey! Slow down!” called White. “It isn’t a race!”

White and Clip followed behind at a brisk trot, while Barrel kept a more leisurely pace, a bored-looking seagull perched on his back.

“We could lose them over the hill?” Scroll suggested with a wink, to a guffaw from Tap.

She smiled wryly at the library. “Really, Scroll, I get you’re proud of it and all, but come on, what’s so special?”

“No no no,” Scroll said, gently turning her in the direction of the edge of the rock overlooking the sea. “Not the library. Something else. Besides, it’s not a very good library anyway.”

They walked slowly to the edge and sat there as the others caught up, staring up at the full moon, floating in the sky and bathing the beach in a soft, bright glow. Tap stepped towards the edge.

“Woah,” she said simply.

“When I was younger, mom would sort of set a curfew for me,” said Scroll. “But when it was a full moon she’d let me stay out later. It was bright enough to see by. She’d take me for walks and...” He looked at Tap, who was smiling at him, barely concealing a giggle. “I guess... talking about my mom seems kind of silly...”

“I don’t look at the sky much,” said Tap. “I’ve always just sort of, well, kept my head on the ground. I’ve never liked looking at the sky. Always just scared I’ll see a cloud or something, I guess.”

The others came up behind them. Clip was staring in wide-eyed awe, but Barrel asked, “Couldn’t we have seen it just fine from the tavern?”

“Scroll?” White asked. Scroll looked back at him.

“Hmm?”

“Clip said you had something to tell me.”

Scroll looked to Clip, who nodded at him, as if saying “go on.”

“Yes,” Scroll said. “Could you... just step aside with me for a second?”

White nodded and walked back towards the library. Clip hopped off of his back and trotted to the edge of the rock, making a seat for himself between Tap and Barrel.

“Well?” asked White.

“Well, Clip and I were talking earlier today...” Scroll said, hemming and hawing.

“Ah, that’s good,” said White. “Nice to see you’ve patched up about the whole ‘lying’ thing.”

“Well, it’s not that,” said Scroll. He sighed. There was no delicate way to introduce this. “It’s General Monarch.”

“He hit me in the face with a conk spell.”

“Concussion spell,” Scroll corrected.

“I like ‘conk’ better,” muttered White. “That’s what it felt like.”

“Well, Clip held onto that teleporter he gave you,” said Scroll. “He’s, uh... Heh,” he chuckled. “Kept it in with his dirty socks.”

“That explains why he hasn’t been putting them in the laundry...” White mused, his eyes momentarily drifting off into space in contemplation of the accumulating filth of unwashed clothing. He blinked and looked back at Scroll. “And?”

“And...” said Scroll. “Well, I...” He looked at Clip. “We thought you should know. After all, that’s... your decision. Er, that is, uh, I mean...”

“What?” asked White. “I’m not gonna do anything about it. I wouldn’t have cared if it just got lost in the flood. Actually, I’m pretty amazed Clip saved the thing...”

Scroll nodded silently.

“Hey,” White said. “What’s the matter?”

“I just... get worried sometimes,” said Scroll, his eyes sinking down and down. “About the mission. About Quake... About you being safe.” He couldn’t look White in the eye, and found himself staring right at the ground at White’s hooves. Then one of those hooves raised itself to his chin, pulling his face up to look up at his companion’s as he smiled reassuringly.

“Scroll, I’m not afraid of the general,” said White. “None of them. And I’m not going anywhere. So you don’t have to worry about a thing. You got that?”

Scroll smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

“I won’t leave you,” said White. “I couldn’t.”

They turned and walked back to the edge of the cliff. The other three were looking out over the water, as the ever-still sea around the island formed a mirror for the moon, magnifying it and bathing the island in the gentle pale glow of the night.

There was a minute of silence, punctuated periodically by a lazy gull. Then a low explosion sounded from the town. The group all turned heads to look in that direction, and more explosions sounded. Cannons.

___________

The ground shook as the group ran into the library. Scroll slammed the doors shut behind them and looked frantically at the windows.

“They won’t come here...” he muttered. “They’ll just... just...” He walked up to the window and looked back at the town. “Oh, Celestia...” he whispered.

The cannons boomed in the town, but from the library they weren’t so much the deafening roar they had been. From so far out of the town they seemed muffled and otherworldly, like the festive bang of fireworks.

“Who is it?” asked Barrel. “Unicorns or pegasuses?”

“No clouds in the sky,” said Tap, peering out of another window. “Gotta be unicorns.” She turned back to them. “This place might be safe. They’ll probably just focus on the town unless they notice this place. With any luck, we’ll just have to wait it out.” She looked at the missionaries, both of whom were looking down at the floor and shuffling their hooves. “What’s the matter?”

“We can’t help...” said Clip.

“Back in the mission house we could always get ponies to stay safe from the attacks,” said White. “Well, almost always.”

“Well, they’ll just have to do with their basements and safehouses,” said Tap. “You can’t get everything.”

“Well, sometimes it’d be nice to get, well, anything,” mumbled Scroll. The two walked over to the table and sat down.

“Well,” said White, taking a shallow sigh and sitting up. “We got a deck of cards in here?”

___________

An hour passed, and the cannons continued to roar. The earth shook, and the cries of gunshots echoed over the beach into the library. This made “Go Fish” a much less fun game to play than it might’ve been.

“King me!” said Barrel, laying down his stack of four kings.

“That’s checkers,” said Clip.

“Hey, I get to say it sometime,” Barrel whined.

A loud thump sounded on the door. All the ponies looked at it, their breath short as though the thump on the door had been in place of a collective skipped heartbeat.

“Open the damn door!” gasped Carpenter’s voice from outside.

The missionaries immediately jumped out of their seats and ran to the front door, opening it. Carpenter tumbled in, nearly falling to the ground but still managing to support himself. He slowly trudged through the room to the nearest seat and sat down, clutching at his side. He was bleeding from a wound.

“What happened?” asked Scroll.

“Got shot,” Carpenter grunted. “Nothing big. Not important.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Buzz?”

The missionaries looked at each other.

“He’s not here,” said Tap. “That all you needed to know?”

“He’s... he’s not with you?” asked Scroll.

“What’s it look like?” Carpenter sneered. “He isn’t home, and last I knew you two faggots were fucking inviting him over.”

“Well you’re out of luck,” said Tap, shuffling the deck of cards.

“Well then where is he?” asked Carpenter.

The others looked at each other, looking for an answer on someone else’s face, but there were none to be had, and they exchanged shrugs and shaken heads. All except for Brother Scroll.

“I think I know where he is,” said Scroll. “I think he’s at the tavern.”

---

Chapter 28

Scroll stood with his back to the tavern’s doorway. The fighting was nowhere near the inn, thankfully, but the sounds of commotion still rang there, as though hovering and invisible.

If Scroll’s hunch was correct, Buzz would be in the tavern. In addition, they’d need to get some disinfectant and bandages to tend to Carpenter’s wounds. They just had to get in, get what they were looking for, and then get back to the library. Thankfully, they hadn’t needed to navigate a warzone, and hopefully the fighting wouldn’t start carrying on in their direction.

“Alright,” said Scroll as he backed into the inn. “We just gotta–” He stopped when his rump backed right into White’s. Scroll let out an ‘oof’ before just turning around and walking up next to him. “White?”

Brother White’s usual smile had sunk into a mortified frown. The tavern was pitch black, all its candles and lanterns extinguished. A good thing, to; the ground shook with the battle outside. If a lantern or lit candle had fallen to the floor in the commotion, it could well of set the whole tavern alight. Thankfully, White had thought to bring a lantern with them in order to see. The darkness was not the only thing troubling him, however.

“White, what’s wrong?”

“Broken glass...”

Scroll turned to follow his gaze. The lantern’s glow cast over the floor, revealing the cause of White’s worries. The ground’s shaking had stirred the countless bottles from their resting place on the shelves, and the tavern’s floor was now covered in a haphazard layer of bottle shards.

“Oh...” said Scroll. “Oh, oh dear.”

Barrel walked up behind them. “There’s a broom there,” he said, pointing to said item on the floor a short distance from the door. “Maybe we could just sweep it up.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Scroll, nodding. Then he stopped. “Barrel?”

White snapped out of his funk and turned around, mirroring Scroll’s alarm. “You were supposed to stay with the others at the library!”

“I wanted to help,” said Barrel.

“Well, okay...” Scroll conceded. “How’d you get Tap to let you come?”

“Oh,” said Barrel. “I just told her I needed to use the bathroom.”

“But...” White blinked. “The library doesn’t have a bathroom.”

“I never said which one.”

White, having that enviable unicorn reach, lifted the broom and began sweeping the broken bottles out of the way. Scroll walked slowly behind him, his eyes darting around the room. Buzz could be in any number of places: the bathroom, the cellar, the mission room, or upstairs.

“Buzz?” White asked out loud, but not so loud that soldiers from outside could hear them. “Are you here?”

No answer.

“We’ll check the rooms,” said Scroll. “Go through the building, see if he’s there.” He looked in the direction of the mission room. “We’ll start there.”

White swept the glass out of the way, clearing a path to the mission room. Though in the day it was a warm, if rowdy, gathering place, the room seemed so much less welcome when it was only dimly lit by a lantern in the midst of gunfire, cannonfire, and the earthquakes. White had to keep sure hoofing in order to not drop the lantern, lest he accidentally set the whole place on fire again. One battle where the place doesn’t fall down, White thought to himself, briefly wondering if building the mission house into the same building wasn’t the best strategy for architectural longevity. Then again, we didn’t have a house, he reasoned. He shook his head, finding that the complicated thought process was starting to give him a headache.

They went into the mission room, which was a mess. As White held the lantern up to get a better view of the room, he saw upturned chairs and lopsided tables were everywhere. Checker sets had pieces strewn all over the floor. To their relief, there was no broken glass. Scroll stepped out ahead of White, carefully stepping over the upturned chairs and making his way to the cabinet.

“Buzz?” White asked in a stage whisper. No answer. Scroll, however, soon turned away from the cabinet.

“I got the bandages and disinfectant,” he said, swinging a bag over his back. “We’ll get these to Carpenter.”

The ground shook again, rattling the checker-pieces on the floor.

“Quake’s shaking more than usual,” said Scroll.

“He must be pissed,” said Barrel. “Maybe Monarch’s down here fighting.”

“Maybe there are a lot of banana peels and he’s slipping?” White suggested.

“Whatever the reason,” said Scroll, walking past them. “We gotta find Buzz and get back to the library.”

White resumed his way sweeping a path through the broken glass as the others followed behind him. Barrel, having not told a complete lie to his sister, found himself occasionally glancing at the door to the bathroom.

“The bathroom is actually a good hiding place,” said White, noticing Barrel’s attention. “Even if it’s... very unpleasant.”

“We’ll check in there,” said Scroll. “First let’s check the cellar, then if he’s not there the bathroom, and then the upstairs.”

“What if he’s not here at all?” asked Barrel.

White stopped sweeping. “Well,” he said. “I have no ideas.”

“There are hiding places,” said Barrel, and White resumed sweeping. “Some of the foals hide there instead of with their families. I remember after our parents died, Tap would get me to hide with the other foals in some tunnels. Well...” His voice wistfully drifted off. “Until they told me to get out because I was a fatass and was blocking the way.”

“If he’s not here...” Scroll peeked into the bathroom. “He’s probably hiding somewhere else. If we can’t find him, we just have to get back to the library and help Carpenter before he, well...” He didn’t finish that sentence. Buzz did not answer their whispers, showing he did not take White’s idea to hide in the toilet.

“Not here,” said Scroll, turning around.

By this point White had managed to get most of the broken glass into a corner of the room, leaving most of the floor clear. The others still kept a light step on the floor however, due to the dim light from the lantern White raised over their heads.

“Having more unicorns around might actually be pretty nice,” said Barrel. A volley of gunfire sounded from outside. “Well, friendly unicorns.” He smiled at Brother White.

“Well, thank you.” White nodded with a friendly smile of his own.

Scroll pushed the door to the cellar open and poked his head down. As was expected, the cellar was pitch-black. “White,” Scroll whispered back, “bring the lantern here.” White did as Scroll told, shining the light down the stairs. Unfortunately, the light only reached so far, but the pair descended regardless.

“Buzz?” asked Scroll in the dark.

“You here?” White asked. He held the lantern before him, peering into the room. The kegs had not been stirred from their massive racks, though he noticed that a couple of the racks themselves had tipped slightly. Soon he saw a scurrying shape off in a corner. “Buzz?”

The little shape stirred. Buzz was cowering in a corner as the muted sounds of cannons thudded outside. As the light from the lantern fell on him, he lifted his face.

“What?” he asked.

“C’mon,” said White. “Your father’s worried sick.”

“And it might not be safe here,” said Scroll.

“It’s safe out there?” Buzz asked, slightly credulous.

“Well...” Scroll mumbled. “There’s no... perfect solution. But we should get moving, before–”

Suddenly, light came flooding in from the doorway above.

“Hey!” shouted a voice. The door slammed, cutting off the light from outside.

“What’s going on?” asked Scroll.

“Soldiers?” asked White. “What do you think, Barrel?” No answer. “Uhh... Barrel?”

They looked around, and Barrel was nowhere to be seen. They realized; he hadn’t followed them into the cellar. Now he’d shut the door on them.

___________

“We don’t have a bathroom,” Tap realized. “I actually got tricked by my brother.”

“Good going,” grunted Carpenter.

“Oh, shut up,” said Tap.

“Think he went to help?” asked Clip.

“I think that’s exactly what he did.”

Carpenter laughed bitterly. He had been propped up onto a row of chairs that served as a sort of makeshift bench and wrapped in whatever pieces of cloth they had lying around to work as similarly makeshift bandages. “Maybe he really just did go to take a shit and was too stupid to–”

“I said shut up,” snapped Tap. “Fuck... He did something dumb, and now...”

She looked over at the desk. Carpenter had brought his gun with him: a rough pistol in a foreleg holster, which was now lying at the edge of the library’s front desk.

“He did something stupid,” Tap said, approaching it. “Guess I have to follow and do something stupid too.”

Carpenter sat up, his eyes narrowed suspiciously on Tap. “The hell does that mean?” he asked.

“It means I’m going to borrow your gun,” said Tap placing a hoof on it. “I left mine back at the tavern,” she mumbled. “Just to make sure that your kid gets back here safe and sound.” She wrapped the holster around her foreleg. “You owe me.”

___________

“Well well,” said the voice on the other side of the door. “What do we have here?”

There was a brief sound of scuffing on wood.

“Nothin’,” said Barrel’s voice.

“Barrel,” Scroll whispered. He was at the top of the stairs, his head pressed next to the door out of the cellar. “What are you doing?”

“You hiding someone?” asked the other voice.

“We don’t have time for this,” said another voice.

“We have plenty of time,” said the first voice. “Now then...”

“Please leave,” said Barrel. “This is my home.”

“Nice job keeping it clean,” said the first voice. A few low chuckles accompanied it. “What are you hiding there?” the voice asked. “Friends? Family? I think I’d like to meet them. Move aside.”

“No.”

White stood behind Scroll, both of them holding their breath.

“Come on,” said the other voice. “We’ll have some fun...”

“T-this building is neutral property,” Barrel sputtered. “You aren’t allowed to be here. You being here with your guns and attacking the place...”

“Who said anything about attacking?” asked the voice.

“What’s gonna happen if we do?” asked another. “Princess gonna get us?”

“Why don’t we find out?” asked a third voice.

“Open the door,” said the first one. His voice was soft, but low, as he toyed with Barrel.

“Scroll, what do we do?” asked White.

Scroll pushed on the door, but Barrel was propped up against it so that he practically just weighed it shut.

“I’m trying to think!” Scroll squeaked in a hoarse whisper. His mind was racing, trying to go through everything they had with them. On one side of the door, there were three unicorn soldiers and Barrel holding the door shut. On the other side were Scroll, White, and Buzz, in the cellar and unable to do anything. There were a lot of liquor racks, not to mention the water machine and the assorted barrels. Maybe they could hide if the soldiers wanted to do anything bad...

“I said open the door,” said the first voice.

“I-I won’t,” said Barrel. “I won’t let you hurt my friends. You want them, you gotta go through me first.”

“Barrel,” Scroll started to whisper, “let them in, we can–”

“Works for me.”

And then there was a deafening bang.

___________

Carpenter should have been getting his rest. Unfortunately, Clip proved to be too distracting, with his climbing amongst the rafters after setting a pillow up on the desk where his gun at been.

Tap had taken the gun. Now if a unicorn stormed in he’d be completely defenseless, unless Clip...

Star Horse to the rescue!

That had been the most embarrassing day of his life. And now two faggots, a useless fatass, and a whore were going to walk into a bar... There should have been a punchline.

“She took my gun,” he mumbled. “She took my gun, my son is missing, and I’m patched up with...” He looked over the garments that the missionaries had used in place of bandages. Some useless articles he didn’t know about. Probably something they played dress-up with.

He had only rarely set hoof in Tap’s tavern. To tell the truth, he resented the place. It was a much better establishment than his own, and Tap got better business than he did. For him, business was best if his house wasn’t destroyed in an attack. Then ponies would come to him for their needs, replacing the wooden furniture that couldn’t be salvaged. Otherwise, he had to get his own house rebuilt like anyone else, putting his livelihood aside. At times he envied the building ponies. But most of all he resented Tap. Her business always thrived, and she always got whatever she needed, all because she was the general’s whore.

And now she’d taken his damn gun, and he was stuck on a bench with a bright pink colt hopping around the rafters. And on an island with a bright pink colt who lives with two pantywaist stallions, it was his kid who turned out to be gay. Maybe the princesses were real and had powerful magic. And they were fucking with him.

“Hey mister?” asked Clip.

Carpenter looked up at the colt peering down at him from the rafter above. Something about that kid made him feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was the way he was always up on a perch, sort of halfway between being an earth pony and a winger. Those ghastly scars on his back weren’t exactly pleasant to look at, nor were the burns on his flank. For a fleeting moment, he paused to consider that it was ponies in his town that did that to a little pegasus kid. “What?” he grunted.

“What happened to Buzz’s mom?”

“She died,” he said.

“Oh,” said Clip. “Sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” Carpenter lay back his head and stared up at the ceiling. “She died in an attack like this one. And then everything just moved on the same as always.” And he knew that if he died, or if Buzz died, it’d be no different. This didn’t affect him as much as he felt it should have.

“I know what you mean,” said Clip. “I mean, the pegasi. They thought I was gonna die, and they didn’t care.”

Carpenter quizically tilted his head, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Not even your parents?”

“Well, dad might’ve,” grumbled clip. “Not mother, though. Mother never liked me.” He raised a hoof and looked at it. “I think it was because I’m pink.”

Enough to embarrass any parent, Carpenter thought.

“But I’m glad it happened,” said Clip, placing his hoof back on the rafter. “They wanted me to learn how to fight and hurt ponies, and I never wanted to do that. And now I have new parents. Well... maybe not yet. But they’ll get married and then I’ll have two dads!”

“Hopefully far away from here,” mumbled Carpenter.

Carpenter didn’t know how long ago Tap had left. Just that the missionaries had been gone for longer, and there was no sign of them coming back.

“Mister Carpenter?” asked Clip.

“What?”

Clip took a deep breath and puffed his chest out. “I forgive you.”

Carpenter blinked. “What?”

“For trying to hang White.”

It took all of Carpenter’s energy not to groan and curse the little pink colt, and the faggy missionary, and the other faggy missionary, and the whore, and the whore’s worthless fatass brother.

The sound of hoofsteps on stone reached Carpenter’s ears. Finally, they were coming back. Against the advice he had been given, he laboriously pulled himself up so he could sit and watch the door. The door opened. Carpenter froze.

There were three unicorn soldiers, armed with rifles.

___________

“BARREL!”

Scroll could barely process Tap’s presence. The scream had come immediately after the gunshot. More shots rang out. In a flash of panic, Scroll tried to shove the door open, but Barrel’s heavy body blocked it shut.

“White!” Scroll cried. “Help me!”

White ran up to the door and pushed along with Scroll. Barrel had slumped against the door. A moaning sound came as they pushed; Barrel was still alive.

“Barrel!” squeaked Scroll.

“No...” Barrel moaned.

A volley of shots rang out, unmuffled by the door. The missionaries had managed to push the door open a little, and through the crack they could see one unicorn soldier dead on the floor. Tap popped out from behind an overturned table and made a shot at her enemies before ducking down behind again, as the other two unicorns, out of the missionaries’ sight, returned fire.

“Sorry!” jeered one of their voices. “Is this your house?”

A bottle flew out from behind Tap’s table, a high crashing noise indicating its shattering.

“Fuck you!” Tap shouted back.

“Why don’t you come along to our house?” the other voice jeered. “It’s a pretty castle. Don’t pretty fillies like pretty castles?”

“You fucking cowards!” Tap screamed back. The ground shook again, seeming to magnify her furious voice. “He didn’t even have a gun!”

“Well, too bad for–urk!” The other voice ceased.

“Shit!” called the other one. “They’re opening the door!”

“Scroll!” White threw his hooves around Scroll and yanked him away from the door as bullets burst through the wood and embedded themselves in the wall.

A few more shots sounded before it all fell silent.

“Bastards...” Tap hissed, before the sounds of her hoofsteps shuffled over the floor. “Barrel...”

White moved back to the door and tried to push it the rest of the way open. Barrel’s body was still blocking it, but Tap pulled him away, allowing White to push it open. Barrel’s breathing was shallow, and the floor was sticky with his blood, which covered his belly. The missionaries looked into the room – the three unicorn soldiers lay dead around a table they had used as cover, and on the other side of the room, the smoking gun that Tap had been using lay smoking on the floor. Tap paid no heed to the downed soldiers; she was staring down at her brother, her eyes wide with an expression that neither Scroll nor White had ever seen on her face before: abject terror.

She looked at them, before noticing the bag on Scroll’s back. “The bandages!” she exclaimed.

“The–” Scroll stammered.

“Don’t just stand there!” she said. “Save him!”

Scroll awkwardly bumbled to Barrel’s side, setting down the lamp. In his bag there he had bandages. In front of him, a wounded pony. And he had no medical knowledge or training.

They had disinfectant and bandages. But what about the bullet? Would they need to get that out? How?

“Do something!”

Scroll snapped out of his frightened stupor. “White!” he shouted.

“What?” asked White, who was as panicked as Scroll.

“I’m gonna...” he racked his brains for whatever knowledge he’d gleaned from other sources. “Apply pressure,” he said, putting his hooves to Barrel’s chest. “I’m gonna apply pressure. You need to get some disinfectant on the cotton and clean the wound, and then bandage it.”

White looked at the wound, his expression betraying a certain amount of queasiness. However, he swallowed the bile and, removing a white bottle and a ball of cotton from the bag, he peered at the wound, his horn glowing in concentration. The cap on the bottle unscrewed, and he dripped the liquid onto the cotton ball before putting it to the wound.

“Agh!” Barrel moaned. “Owowow...” Then, it seemed like a wave of renewed vigor had come over him, and his eyes shot open. “I’m shot!” he yelled. “Oh no I’m gonna die!”

White reared back in alarm, his horn’s light vanishing as he dropped the magic. Barrel’s chest heaved as he tried to breathe.

“What’s the matter?” asked Tap.

“Barrel,” said Scroll, putting an arm around Barrel’s neck, “I need you to stay calm.” Barrel nodded silently, before Scroll turned to White. “White, that book I gave you...”

“What about it?”

“Relaxing giggles.”

White stood there for a second before a smile dawned across his face. “Ohh. Right.”

He lowered his head and the horn lit up again. This time, however, Barrel’s labored breathing eased, and a smile crept across his face.

“Wow...” he said. “That’s a lot of blood. Is it because I’m fat?”

“Good, good,” said Scroll as White returned to cleaning the wound. “Tap,” he continued, “you need to get the room lit. Once the fighting stops we need to get a doctor.” He looked at Buzz, who had been standing in the doorway, silent the whole time. “You go upstairs and get some pillows and blankets. White, you help me get the bandages on him. I gotta keep the pressure on his chest.”

White looked off at the rest of the room, at the three dead unicorn soldiers. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tap saw him and cut him off.

“Fuck them.”

___________

“Well, what do we have here?” asked the unicorn soldier, smirking over the infirm earth pony.

Carpenter had always hated the unicorns. This one was just like Brother White: smarmy, too clean for a pony out here, wearing a cock-eating grin... this one’s coat was a shade of aquamarine, sneering at him through green eyes. He even had a fucking braid in his mane.

“Somepony who’d kick your ass a couple hours ago,” growled Carpenter. “But I have to get my rest or something. Come back later and I’ll show you.”

“Sounds fun,” said the soldier, while his friend peered around the library. “Unfortunately I’m on a tight schedule, so I can’t spare the time. You, however...” He laughed, putting the butt of his rifle on the floor. “Hope you’ve got a big opening, cause you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“Oh, it’s a standard prisoner run,” said the soldier. “Just hope you’ve been making lots of babies. I don’t think you’d be missed, as you’re...” He gave a soft chuckle. “A little past your prime.”

Carpenter’s eyes narrowed. “And if I refuse?”

The soldier snickered. “With what faculties?”

Carpenter looked at himself, covered in makeshift bandages and completely unarmed, as opposed to two unicorns who were armed and not wounded.

The other soldier checked by the door. “What’s this place doing out here?” he asked.

“Good question,” said the first soldier.

“Those two missionaries,” grunted Carpenter. “Wanted to build a library here...”

The first soldier chuckled. “Oh dear, we’re on neutral territory,” he mocked. “Come on, let’s go.” He took a step forward. Carpenter lurched out of his seat, stepping back on his hooves. He could still hold himself up, but he was weak. The second soldier turned his attention to him, though the first one kept his smug expression. “Well, maybe we could be persuaded to let you go,” he said. “If you find somepony else...”

Carpenter instantly looked up at Clip. The colt had remained tentatively perched on the rafter, as though unsure of what to do.

“Him!” Carpenter yelled. Both of the soldiers looked up. Clip tried to jump from the rafter, but one of the unicorns grabbed him in his magic reach before he even hit the floor. Clip floated in front of the second soldier, wide-eyed and kicking the air.

“Traitor!” he yelled at Carpenter. “You traitoring traitor!”

“I was never on your side, shit-wing,” Carpenter snarled. He started to walk, but the first soldier hit him with the butt of the rifle, breaking the skin of his cheek and knocking him to the floor.

“I was being facetious,” he said. “Not that I expect you dirt ponies to know what that means.”

“I have a son...” Carpenter moaned.

“‘Shit-wing...’?” asked the second soldier, upon inspecting Clip closer... “Woah... Aq, you gotta see this.”

The soldier named Aq turned and looked at him. He, too, noticed Clip’s scars. “Is that...” He looked at Carpenter, clearly amused. “Is that a pegasus colt?”

“Let me go!” said Clip. “Or my dads will...”

“Quiet!” snarled the second soldier.

“This is great,” said Aq. “The other guys will get a kick out of this. As for you...” He turned back to Carpenter, who was still on the ground.

Carpenter looked up at the smug bastard of a horner. He had a diamond medallion around his neck, which began to glow. Carpenter felt himself slipping from consciousness, and as the light filled his eyes and Clip’s shrill voice drowned out his ears, all he could think about was the horrifying thought that he might never see his son again.

___________

By now the battle had ended. Cannons ceased, and gunshots remained only to signal the executions of straggling unicorns. Now it would be the usual time for rebuilding, burying the dead, and moving back to the usual swing of things.

Brother White was unsure how lucky to count himself. For once, the tavern hadn’t been destroyed. Barrel, however, had been shot. Thanks to Brother Scroll’s thinking, however, he seemed safe for now.

Barrel lay in the corner on a little makeshift bed. They hadn’t dared move him, so they simply had him lying in the corner of the main room, which had been lit with the lanterns. He had gone to sleep, but the worst seemed to be over. They’d bandaged him up, but that was all they knew how to do. Still, White was proud of his mission brother.

They had found Buzz at the mission house, sure enough, but with Barrel’s emergency they’d postponed their return to Carpenter. That nagged at the back of his mind – they would have to return and make sure that Carpenter and Clip were alright.

Tap stood by Barrel’s side as if in a trance. Something had come over her that White had never seen, yet he wasn’t surprised. Barrel was the only family she had. If he lost any of his family, he didn’t know what he’d do. If he lost Scroll...

Scroll stepped forward. “He should be okay,” he said. “Just as long as he gets his–”

“Get out,” said Tap. She didn’t move or turn to face them. “Get out of my home. Out of my life.”

Scroll took a step back and sputtered, “I...”

Tap turned around. Her eyes were red from tears. “None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t come here. My brother just got shot because of you two. Because of that little shitwad...” She threw a furious glare at Buzz, who had been sitting in the corner. The colt was uncharacteristically mortified and seemed to be making every effort he could to appear as small as possible.

She glared at Scroll. “If you hadn’t told him he was welcome here, without my permission, he wouldn’t have been here tonight. Then you wouldn’t have come here, and Barrel wouldn’t be here, and he wouldn’t have gotten shot. And it happened because of what? What!” She sneered at Buzz. “Because of this little shit and his asshole dad.”

White looked at Buzz; the little colt was choked up, biting back the tears. Tap wasn’t being fair to him, he thought. He looked back at Tap, and spoke up. “He needed–”

“He didn’t need a damn thing,” said Tap. “You owed him nothing. Buzz would’ve been just as fine if you’d just stayed behind and he hid.”

“We couldn’t know that,” said Scroll.

“Oh!” Tap yelled. “What an amazing twist of events, our boys from Equestria don’t know everything!”

Scroll backed up to Brother White, both of them looking at her. But she wasn’t finished.

“I especially love the way you treat ponies who are scum. Oh, Buzz, come over to my place,” she mocked. “Have a fucking present while you’re at it! Oh, General Quake, let’s be best friends! Oh, Carpenter, I totally think you’re okay even though you tried to murder me. General Monarch, how about a great big fucking hug!”

White watched her hysterics. She left little room for them to say anything in their own support, though White wasn’t going to be broken by this. He stood there, his expression uncharacteristically stoic.

“We’ve been here for months,” White said in a soft voice. “You haven’t learned anything?”

“Haven’t you?!” Tap stormed up to him, her eyes wide-open with rage. White’s attempts at rock-hard cool-headedness faltered as he backed away from the advancing mare. “No, no no no, you never have to learn a damn thing, you’re the ones who have all the answers. And it’s just great for you, White, because if there’s one thing you love more than dressing up as a princess, it’s listening to yourself talk!”

Scroll opened his mouth.

“Don’t even say anything, Scroll,” said Tap, not even dignifying him with a glare. “I don’t even know why the fuck I did anything with you. Except maybe for pity. It sure as hell wasn’t for being good in bed. Thing about you, Scroll, is you’re really just a spineless pussy. Take your buddy here away from you and what are you good for?” She gave a low, bitter chortle. “Cooking?”

Scroll backed down. Neither he nor White had anything to say. On the other side of the room, Barrel moaned softly and turned on his side. Tap’s head snapped to watch him, as did Buzz and the missionaries. She scurried to the side of his bed to see. When it was clear that Barrel was just continuing with his sleep, Tap turned back to the missionaries.

“You should never have come to this island. You should’ve just stayed home and kept me and Barrel out of your bullshit. But...” She laughed bitterly. “Guess it’s my fault, too, y’know. And you know the worst part? The worst part of all of this is... it’s that I actually believed you for a while there. I believed it. That stuff about friendship.” The smile vanished from her face as she looked back at her sleeping brother. “And that’s what it’s gotten me. You two are... you’re completely clueless. You come here with all your fun and games and shit, and now this happens. I... I’ve had to deal with some shit. I lost my parents like a lot of ponies. I’ve lost my home several times. And, of course, I’m surrounded by scum. But of all the ponies who... who’ve lied to me, robbed me, beaten me, raped me... you’ve hurt me more than any of them.”

“You know... you know what you two will do if you have half a brain between you?” she asked. She paused, trying to regain her breath putting a hoof to her temple, which was damp with sweat. Taking another breath, she drew herself up and continued, her voice a little quieter. “You’ll get right on the next boat out of here and go home. That way you’ll be with all those nice ponies you can have those parties with and not fuck everything up by being so, so stupid.” She shot a narrow-eyed, almost deadpan expression at Scroll. “I mean, pies. Really? I’m just amazed Quake hasn’t killed you himself after all the...” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t care. Just get out. Get out of my home. Leave me to run my business and take care of my brother.”

Then, in one swift motion, she raised a hoof to her neck and tore the locket from it, before casting it at Scroll’s hooves.

And then for an instant, a look of horror came across her face as she looked at Scroll’s. She took a step back. “I...” she sputtered, her voice broken. “I can’t take it. Just go.” She turned her back to them, leaving Scroll to stare down at the locket on the floor.

White turned to him. Scroll just stood there, his legs nearly trembling and his mouth hanging open. He raised a hoof to his shoulder.

“Scroll?” he asked. Scroll looked up at him suddenly, his eyes wide like a desperate, lost foal. “Let’s go.”

The missionaries left the tavern, with Buzz trailing timidly behind them. The battle had stopped by now. The moon was low; dawn would come in a few hours. The missionaries, in the excitement of the night, had not even been tired, though now the strain of Tap’s rejection had worn them down a little. Scroll especially seemed rattled. As he walked he just stared down at the locket in his hoof, completely silent.

“She’s just a bit rattled and scared,” White reasoned. “She nearly lost her brother. I’m sure she’ll probably let us back in by noon.” He stopped for a second. “Gee, I hope Barrel isn’t mad.”

As they walked back to the library, White noticed a marked contrast with the dirty, rubble-ridden streets of the town and the clean, smooth sand of the beach. Looking back at the town he felt an odd sense of disconnect.

Soon enough they came upon the library, still and safe as they’d left it, save for the fact that the door had been left open.

Hmm, thought White. Tap isn’t really the pony to be that careless...

He stepped through the door, expecting to hear Clip let out an excited yelp. Instead, there was nothing.

“Dad?” asked Buzz, tentatively stepping into the room.

“Clip?” asked White. “Carpenter?”

Scroll raised the lantern to light the room. It didn’t fill the whole building, but one thing was clear. Carpenter and Clip were gone.

___________

“Monarch’s lucky he’s good at running away,” grunted General Quake. He and a small group of soldiers were marching down the beach. “Him and Storm. That’s how they attack. They get a few hits in and then they turn tail. Just one of these fucking days they’ll slip up, and I’ll get my hooves on them, and I’ll...” He smashed a large rock with a stomp of his hoof, making the ground around him shake. The soldiers stumbled, though one clever pony hopped to avoid it.

“You swear something fell off?” he continued.

“We’re sure we saw it,” said Trigger Mark.

“I shot it myself,” said Gunner. “So do I get a promotion?”

“Fuck you,” Quake grunted.

Gunner chewed and nodded his head. “Fair enough...”

Quake, however, slowed to a walk as they approached the library.

“What is that?” he asked. “I don’t remember anything out here.”

“That’s the mission boys’ library,” said one of the soldiers. “We built it like a week ago.”

Quake turned around, his mouth open in disbelief. “‘We’?” He looked around at the soldiers. “You helped build this? Are you fucking shitting me?” He looked back at it. “Where’s the debris?”

“Probably out past it, sir,” said Trigger Mark.

The company continued up the beach and up the rock on which the library sat. Quake glared at it out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise ignored it. That is, however, until the door burst open.

“Where are they?” White shrieked hysterically.

“What is it?” asked Trigger Mark.

White stumbled out of the doorway. “Clip and Carpenter,” said White. “They’re gone. We don’t know where they went, and–”

“Oh...” said Gunner. “Shit.”

“What?” asked White. “What is it? Where are they?”

“There were a number of disappearances,” said Trigger Mark. “They might’ve been captured?”

“What?” asked White.

“Horners are lazy shits,” said Quake, “So they come and grab us if they can to do whatever-the-fuck up in their castle.” He stepped over to the edge of the rock.

“Then...” said White. “We need to rescue them!”

Quake turned around, snorting in irritation. “If I get one more fucking word out of you about what we ‘need,’ I swear I’ll knock you so high in the air you’ll land faggy-ass-first on the peak of the mountain! They’re gone. Now shut the fuck up.”

“Carpenter has a kid...” White began to protest.

“Then the kid can grow up,” said Quake, looking at the doorway. Buzz was standing there, his head hung low in dejection. “He’s old enough for a job. Why don’t you go do that?” he asked the colt. “Instead of standing around like a useless piece of shit. Run back into town and do... whatever it is your dad did. That’s an order!”

Without another word, Buzz scurried off down the beach.

“General!” said Gunner, standing at the edge of the rock. “There it is!”

Quake grunted and turned to follow. White, too, went to look.

Further down on the beach, there was what appeared to be the remains of a collapsed turret from the castle. Stones were scattered over the sand, and the turret itself had sunk in on itself, barely recognizable.

“Gunner shot it off,” Trigger Mark explained to White. “We’re here to see if it has anything useful.”

Gunner and another soldier were already off down the beach to see. Quake stepped down after them, slowly. The rest of the group followed and passed him, White included, to his great irritation. The soldiers climbed over the broken stones, examining the ruins.

“Holy shit...” said Gunner. “This one’s breathing!”

As Quake walked up, he saw a unicorn lying on the beach. His head was covered in blood, but he was still breathing.

“Not a soldier,” said Trigger Mark. “Not wearing a uniform.”

“Good,” said Quake. “That means he won’t put up a fight,” he looked at the nearest soldier. “Kill him.”

“What? No!” White exclaimed, running up to the downed unicorn and putting himself between them. “You can’t do this!”

“Yes I can,” said Quake. “Now get out of my way.”

White stood there. For a second he seemed uncertain as he looked at the soldiers around him, his face nearly pleading for support. Quake smirked at the sight of him squirming. But then White looked him straight in the eye, and said, “No.”

Then he noticed that the soldiers had not done as he’d told them. They were just standing there, as though they hadn’t heard the order. An order, which they proceeded to ignore, like they were waiting for a second opinion. That did not happen on Earthquake Island. That never happened on Earthquake Island. It was his island, and what he said went.

No, he remembered. There was the last attack, and he remembered what White had done there. He looked at Brother White, standing in front of him. He snorted in amusement at the idea that White seemed to act like he had more authority than him. That had happened one time. It would not happen again. Not to him. Not on his island.

“I warned you to stay out of my way,” he growled.

“I don’t care,” said White. “I’m not letting you do this.”

“White?” called a voice. Quake turned around and saw Scroll standing on the edge of the rock. “What’s happening?”

Quake looked back at White, who looked back at Scroll in turn.

“I’m going to kill you,” said Quake. “If you don’t get out of the way.”

White looked back at him, his eyes wide. “I... I don’t care,” he said.

Quake tilted his head. “You know,” he said. “It’s fucking amazing, the shit I let you get away with. And it’s all because I didn’t want an ‘incident.’ But now that I think about it...” He paused, letting himself enjoy how much bigger than the unicorn he was. “The two dipshits before you? They hightail it out and nothing happens. I shove a book up your ass. Nothing happens. Monarch knocks down your place, nothing happens. So here I am, and I realize that if you die, nothing happens at all. No princess, no army.”

“Well...” White took a step back. “I don’t plan on dying.”

“This unicorn was with the fortress,” said Quake, advancing on him. “He’s with Monarch. He hates us as much as we hate him. He’s with the unicorns who took that little shitwing kid of yours.” He smirked. “Sounds good to me. They take your shitwing. I splatter his brains all over the rock. Then it’s even.”

White just stared at him in disbelief. “I’ll never understand you, Quake,” he said.

“The feeling is fucking mutual,” said Quake. “You come to my island and think you can run it better than me? If you and your fag-friend were in charge, in one week you’d be taken over by the horners or the wingers or both because you tried to make friends with them.” He smirked again. “I bet you hate me. You won’t admit it, but you do. But the thing is I’m the one keeping this island safe.”

White stared at him, his eyes narrowed.

“And you know what I keep it safe from?” he nodded at the unicorn, who had started to stir. “Him. So, why don’t you just stand aside and let me do my job?”

White took a step forward. “Two reasons,” he said. “One, I kinda have a problem with murder, and two...”

There was a flash of light, and the other unicorn was gone. All turned to look at the spot, and then the soldiers turned their attention back on White as he looked at Quake, that confident smile coming back into play.

“And two, because to do that I’d have to admit that you’re right. And if I do that, then the mission has failed. And I don’t mean to fail.”

Quake stood there, glaring at White. For a second there was dead silence, as the smile from White’s face melted away into a look of horror. The dumb dickhead knew what was coming. Quake raised a mighty hoof–

“White!” Scroll cried.

White’s horn lit up in an attempt at a magic spell. Quake grinned a little, finding it amusing. What could Brother White possibly use against him? The general knew that White’s magic was only really doing things with mouths. What’s he gonna do? thought Quake. Give me a toothache?

His hoof stayed there in the air as he just looked at White, and slowly he lowered it, his mouth opening into a grin.

“You... You’re...” he said, his mind trying to find the word. “Funny...”

White leaped to the side and shoved him. Now that was really funny, Quake thought. White was an utter weakling. There was no way he could do anything to him, physically. Quake just giggled at the silliness of it as he tipped over and landed in the sand with a soft thud. The soldiers stood around him, gaping dumbly.

He lay there for a while, pondering how silly it was that the faggy unicorn had stood up to him, humiliated him... beaten him...

Then he launched up in a rage, the soldiers backing away from him. The general looked around like a mad animal, his teeth barred. He looked to the library on the rock, but there was no sign of the missionaries.

“Find him,” said Quake. “Find White. Kill him.”

___________

Tap stood in the middle of the room of her tavern while the army doctor tended to Barrel. If nothing else, at least she hadn’t lost the tavern this time. She rather wished she had, instead of...

She shook her head. Barrel was going to be alright, no thanks to... actually, it was thanks to the missionaries, now that she thought of it. Still, it wouldn’t even have been necessary if they hadn’t...

“He should be fine,” said the doctor. “Bullet didn’t hit anywhere bad. I’d help get it out, but I got other, slightly more dead ponies to attend to.”

“Sure,” Tap mumbled as the doctor departed.

She groaned. She had to put it from her mind, somehow. Now was a good time for a drink. She’d head down to the cellar, grab a bottle, and get herself plastered. Sure, she’d lost a lot of booze due to the ground shaking and her wares smashing onto the floor and drinking more of her inventory wasn’t prudent, but fuck it, she needed a drink and she could always make the money back by sucking some dicks.

Before she could swim in alcohol, however, the door burst open.

“No,” she said. “Fuck no.”

Scroll pinned himself against the door. “Please,” he said, as White also propped himself against the door. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I know where you can go!” she said.

“Really?” the brothers asked in unison.

“Somewhere else.”

“They took Clip!” protested White.

“And they’re going to kill White!” said Scroll. “Uh, different ‘they’, that is?”

Tap blinked. Despite how she felt about Barrel, that was a different prospect entirely. “What?”

The door burst open, knocking them both to the floor. Trigger Mark and Gunner stood in the doorway.

“Now I really need a drink,” said Tap.

White and Scroll looked up and backed away from the soldiers, who stared coldly at them.

“General Quake sent us after you,” said Trigger Mark.

“Gave us a job,” said Gunner. He puffed out his large chest and cleared his throat, before announcing, “I’m afraid we’ll have to execute you, White. Nothing personal.”

“Yeah,” said Trigger Mark. “Unless you can escape,” he said, in that slow, oily way one says when they imply something. “That’d be good.” He smiled at Gunner. “Right?”

“Huh?” Gunner asked, looking at Trigger Mark. He blinked, lost for a moment at his proposed idea, before his face lit up in the realization. “Oh, oh yeah.” He grinned. “That’s much better.”

Scroll and White looked at each other, hopeful, but a bit bewildered.

“I take it hiding in the basement is too obvious?” asked Tap.

“You could camp in the forest,” suggested Gunner. “We got the working and inspection schedules so you could avoid the crowds.”

“Or you could hide in the caves,” said Trigger Mark, bobbing his head as though chewing on the options.

“Somehow those sounds like the first two places Quake would look,” said Tap dubiously.

“Well...” said Trigger Mark. He pawed at the ground a little. Gunner glanced at the floor.

“Yeah,” said Gunner, “figures it’s the first two we thought of.”

Scroll stood there, like he was numb from shock. Tap knew that look – it came when one of two things happened: either Scroll was deeply shocked, or he’d gotten a big idea. And Tap wasn’t sure which it was.

“Dirty socks...” he said softly.

White looked at him. His eyebrow raised and he slowly opened his mouth. “Excuse me?”

Scroll burst off of the floor and ran up the stairs. And Tap still wasn’t sure which it was. Brother White looked at her, smiling awkwardly.

“Sorry about bursting in like this,” he said. “Kind of an emergency. Just...”

“Whatever,” said Tap. “Just... just don’t get killed, okay?”

Scroll returned down the steps a few moments later, with something in his mouth. Every step he took was slow and shaky, as though he were wading through cold water. Tap could read him, however – he was afraid.

He approached White, who stood up, peering at him quizzically.

“Is that…” White asked.

Scroll set it down on the floor. It was a small, dark stone disc. He lifted his face to look back up at White. “It’s the teleporter Monarch sent,” he said. “With it, you can go to his fortress and escape Quake.”

White looked back down at the disc, lifting it with his magic. Scroll turned his own head away, not looking White in the eye. White examined it before returning his attention back to his mission partner.

“Scroll?” he asked. “Are you…”

“I’m afraid, okay?” Scroll squeaked. “This… this is the only thing I can think of.”

“Well, there’s still the forest and stuff,” suggested Gunner. “I mean, he’d probably comb it until he found you and then the moment he found you, well, um…”

Gunner’s facial expressions had always been obvious, Tap noted. His face underwent a wide-eyed grimace as he bit his lip. White paid him no mind; his attention was divided between the teleporter and Scroll.

“Trigger Mark,” said White, turning to the soldiers. “You said that the unicorns might’ve taken Clip and Carpenter?”

“Likely,” replied the soldier.

“If I go there I can find them,” White reasoned. “And I can find out what happened to Brother Shine.”

Scroll, however, did not seem comforted by the possibilities. At the very least, his dejected, downturned face didn’t betray any such positive feelings.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to sound hopeful. “You can find them, and I’ll…” He looked up again. Tap saw tears starting to form in his eyes. “White… White, I don’t know what to do.”

White looked at Scroll, his mouth in an open half-smile. “Don’t… Scroll, you…” He forced a laugh. “What do you mean? Who’s the one who always comes up with the ideas? Who thought up the library? Who gave everyone free water?”

“Yeah… I did, I guess,” said Scroll. “B-but I don’t know if I can still do that,” he said. “Not without you. White, I, I, I…” He broke down, shivering as though he were about to fall to the floor in a panic. “White,” he hissed in a pained whisper, “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

White put the teleporter down and smiled at his partner. “Scroll, do you remember what I told you you when we first met at the Fraternity, when we were partnered up for this?”

Scroll sniffed. “What?”

“I told you were gonna do great. And you did.” White lifted a hoof to Scroll’s face and wiped away a tear. “You are strong, Scroll. More than that. A lot more than that. You’re smart. And you’re kind. And you’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve told you that before, but I’ve never meant it more than now.”

Scroll, finding some strength in himself, wiped away his tears as White continued.

“And I think I’m going to have it hard without you, too,” he confessed. “But I think I can do it if you can. But Scroll, I’m going to need you to be one more thing.”

Scroll paused. “And what’s that?”

“I need you to be brave,” said White. “I need you to promise me that, Scroll. If I know you can be brave here, then I think I can be, too.”

The missionaries were silent for a moment, just looking at each other. A day ago Tap would’ve loved the sight, but now she found herself irritated at their inane chatter and pep-talks and just wanted all of them, soldiers included, out of her house. Before she could tell them to get out, however, Scroll answered.

“I… I think so.”

“Good,” said White. “Thank you.” He turned to the soldiers. “Thank you to you, too.” Last, he turned to Tap. “And thank you.”

“Just get out, okay?” she answered.

“Look after Buzz, okay?” he asked Scroll. “Look after everyone. Stay to the mission.”

Scroll nodded, and with that, White lifted the disc. The Brothers took one last, long look at each other, before a brilliant white light enveloped White.

And then he was gone.

The door crashed open and the soldiers were thrown to the floor. Gunner groaned, but his voice was muffled as he fell face-first onto the wooden planks. General Quake stood in the door, heaving.

“Where is he?!” he snarled, more like a rabid animal than a pony. “Where is that fucking faggot?” His eyes fell on Scroll. “You!” He stomped up to him. Scroll backed away and fell into a chair, which tipped backwards and spilled him on the floor. “WHERE IS HE?”

“I-I-I-I,” Scroll stammered. His eyes already seemed large under his glasses, but now they seemed bigger than his mouth. Tap wondered for an instant, as he stared up at Quake’s furious face, if he would actually shit himself.

“He’s gone,” Tap said. Quake looked at her, and then to the soldiers.

“He just slipped away, sir,” said Trigger Mark.

“He used, uh,” Gunner grunted as he pulled himself too his hooves. “He used one of those horner transports. He’s with General Monarch now.”

Quake stood there, steaming in the realization, before turning his attention back to Tap.

“General,” said Tap, “I’ve had a lot of blood and guts in here tonight already. I don’t want to have to clean it again.”

The general stared down at Scroll, who seemed to have frozen on his back, hooves in the air. He snorted down at him, and Scroll flinched and let out a pained whimper. Then the general stepped away and turned, slowly lumbering over to the doorway. He left, and the soldiers followed him out. Scroll clumsily crawled over the chair and got back to his hooves. He looked at Tap.

“You… just… saved my life,” Scroll panted, winded from holding his breath under the general’s glare. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t want to clean another mess,” Tap replied coldly, turning away. “Now get out.”

She didn’t watch, but just listened for the hoofsteps. Clup. Clup. Clup. Squeak. Latch. And Scroll was gone, leaving Tap and Barrel alone in the tavern.

___________

The night was ending, and the grey light that blanketed the island was soon to be pierced by the light of the dawn’s sun. Scroll stood at the edge of the rock by the library and looked out.

White was gone. Clip was gone. Barrel was wounded. Tap had thrown him out.

Scroll was completely alone in the world without a friend to guide him, or shelter, or share. He had been without friends before he’d joined the Fraternity, but now it seemed like the worst thing in Equestria to be without a friend. And, perhaps, the worst thing out of Equestria, to be without a friend.

Desperately, he tried to remember what White had told him about the sunrise those months ago.

I think that if I can see the sunrise... I can know that everything I believe is true.

Scroll was scared. If there was one thought more terrifying for him than the idea that the sun might not rise, it was the idea that it might rise, but be completely devoid of the things White had said.

A gull’s cry echoed through the still air. The birds were waking, but Barrel would not be here. Would they miss him, Scroll wondered.

Scroll would miss White. He knew that much. He tried to think of his comforting words.

You are strong. You are smart. You are kind.

He looked down at the ground. There, at his hooves, sat the Book of Friendship, the collection of letters and lessons that it was his mission to teach. Hard to teach about the magic of friendship when he didn’t have any friends, though.

He sank to his knees and clenched his eyes shut. He was going to cry, but he didn’t want to. It was as though he were being torn in two, between the fragile shell that was about to break, and the strong, firm pillar of confidence he wanted to be. He shook in the dull weak glow of the dawn, terrified of the uncertain future.

Then a gentle warmth touched his nose and he quietly opened his eyes. He saw the sun was beginning to rise, as the first beams of the morning clipped over the water. Slowly and shakily, he rose to his feet.

And so Brother Scroll Page, a missionary of the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia, stood up tall and faced the horizon and the sunrise, knowing what he had to do.

It was time to be brave.

End of Part 2

---

White blinked, regretting his decision not to shield his eyes. As the light faded, he found himself in a marble room. Where he was, he wasn’t completely sure. Definitely not in Tap’s tavern. And almost certainly not on the island.

“Hello?” he called. No answer.

He took a deep breath and stepped out of the chamber. Approaching a door, he found it was unlocked. Now that the shock was starting to wear away, he found that the marble in the room wasn’t consistently white. Parts of it were dirty, discolored, or chipped away. The door opened with a creak, leading into a magically-lit hallway.

Brother White stepped down the hallway slowly, his hoofsteps echoing off the polished stone floor. Nopony was there, it seemed. Nopony but himself in a long hallway. As he thought about it, he wondered if the hallway really was that long, or if his mind was playing tricks on him.

As he approached the wide doorway on the other end of the hall, there was a creak, and it opened slowly. White stopped stock-still in his tracks.

Through the doorway emerged General Monarch, a smug smirk on his face.

“So glad you could finally join us, Brother White.”

The Book of Friendship

Part 3: Courage

Chapter 29

One day, Gunner realized that he didn’t like his job. He watched earth ponies working at tending to the parallel trees (and he was supposed to be paying close attention), and realized that he didn’t like it when he caught one of them stealing something, mainly food.

If he caught them stealing food, he had to shoot them. It was a numbing task. He looked next to him at his partner. Trigger Mark was more focused—the workers didn’t escape his notice, and they found him suitably imposing enough that they were less inclined to try to steal.

Just as well. Gunner found he didn’t want to shoot anyone today. Not earth pony citizens. Pegasi or unicorns, sure, but not the inhabitants of his own town.

Though lately he wasn’t even sure about the unicorns.

“Mark?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking...”

Trigger Mark choked loudly, making Gunner jump. “Sorry,” said Trigger Mark. “I just didn’t expect that. Startled me. Please, go on...”

“Okay, so...” Gunner blinked, then shot a glare at Trigger Mark. “Hey!”

“No, really go on,” said Trigger Mark, grinning softly to himself.

Gunner shook his head. “So, we were supposed to shoot White, right?”

“Technically we were supposed to turn him in to Quake,” said Trigger Mark. “Then he would've shot him. Or more likely smashed him into the ground.”

“But we didn’t,” said Gunner. “We let him go.”

“No,” said Trigger Mark. “We failed to capture him. He eluded us.”

Gunner looked around. “Well, I’m just saying, the general told us to do something, right?”

Trigger Mark looked at him. “Yes?”

“And, well...” Gunner shrugged. “We didn’t do it. I mean, that just gets me thinking... we usually do what the general tells us. If we’re able to not do something he tells us, well...” His face lit up. “That’s a lot of new possibilities.”

“Provided he doesn’t smash your head through a rock,” reminded Trigger Mark.

The smile fell from Gunner’s face. “Well, yeah...”

Their conversation ended, and they returned their attention to their post. They watched the workers in banana grove and they busheled bananas into baskets and put them on carts to be delivered to the general’s camps. Some of them would go to feed the general and his soldiers. Some would be given out as rations or sold. Many of the bananas would go onto the ships on the docks for trade.

Sometimes he wondered if the whole island wasn’t bananas.

Beneath him the ground rumbled. The workers slowed, their heads cocked up in fear. Gunner knew what this meant: the general was coming, and he was apparently pissed.

General Quake stormed through the treelines with his two lieutenants following him, one of them having stumbled and fallen behind.

“Clear ‘em out!” he roared. “We’re rotating!”

Rotating. The workers all dropped what they were doing and moved away.

Rotating meant that they were changing the layout of the trees. There was always a certain section of the island that was left bare with no trees on it. Every once in awhile, the general declared they’d rotate, and so many of the trees would be cleared, and many of them planted in the hitherto bare parts of the island.

“You two!”

Gunner snapped from his stupor as he saw the general turning to them.

“Don’t just stand there, get your asses moving shit!”

Gunner and Trigger Mark. Proud soldiers and pack mules. Gunner had always liked carrying guns, but hauling other goods was just something that bored him. Guns were neat because you could shoot them. You couldn’t shoot a banana. Though maybe you could make a gun that shot bananas...

As they loaded sacks of bananas on their saddles, Gunner looked at Trigger Mark.

“What do you think’s got him upset?” he asked.

“If I know anything about the general,” said Mark, “it’s that the farther away I am from whatever’s pissing him off, the better off I am.”

“Good point...” conceded Gunner.

They marched back towards the town with their cargo, ready to deposit them in one of the storehouses.

The storehouse in question was an old, dilapidated cabin out in the forest, not too far from the town. Somehow it had managed to avoid destruction in any of the attacks, which made it, in Quake’s eyes, as good a place to store surplus food as any.

The soldiers, along with the workers, deposited their foodstuffs in the cabin’s basement. As they walked out, that marked the end of what work the general had assigned them, and Gunner turned to Trigger Mark.

“Hey, Mark?” asked Gunner. “Think you could spare a few coins? I’m running a little low.”

“Gunner, I’m not going to give you money,” said Trigger Mark. “Knowing you, you just plan to spend it on Tap.”

“Nuh-uh!” Gunner protested. “Cards, actually... A bit short on the pot this week.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Haven’t been with Tap in a while,” said Gunner. “She just isn’t fun lately, y’know? I swear, most awkward, uncomfortable bl—”

“Please do not finish that sentence.”

It had been two weeks since the attack. When Tap’s brother had been shot and Brother White had fled the island. Unlikely as it seemed, Gunner found himself missing Brother White. Since that had happened, the soldiers hadn’t attended any more meetings, on the few occasions when Brother Scroll was able to pull one together.

As Gunner thought on it, he realized he hadn’t seen much of the missionary lately.

“Say, Trigger Mark,” he said, “what do you think of holding a get-together for the other guys?”

“Huh?” asked Trigger Mark.

“I dunno,” said Gunner with a shrug. “For some drinks and a few games. Like the missionaries had.”

Trigger Mark raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Eh,” said Gunner. “I’ll put up a notice. See what we can scrape up.”

___________

White didn’t open his eyes just yet. His hooves stroked the soft velvet sheets of his bed, and he thought about how warm he was. Okay. Now he could open his eyes.

Above him was a rich red canopy to match the red velvet sheets. Next to the king-sized bed was a mahogany nightstand.

Where in the world did they get mahogany? he wondered as he pulled himself out of bed. His room was spacious and frilly, as though he were some sort of royal guest in a palace.

White was not so naive as to think that Monarch was offering him this suite out of the goodness of his heart. He knew the general had some ulterior motive. What that motive was, however, he could not tell...

There was a knock at the door.

“Brother White?” chimed a voice outside. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” answered White.

The door opened, showing a guard in the doorway. He was an aquamarine unicorn with what struck White as a very luxurious mane.

“Morning, Aq,” said White.

“Good morning,” Aq said with a polite nod. “You ready for today’s tour?”

“As long as there’s breakfast involved.”

Aq chuckled. “Follow me, then.”

White was learning a lot about the Fortress. Or more accurately, he was learning more about what General Monarch chose to show him on these predetermined tours.

Aq, the soldier, was assigned to look after White and to lead him about whatever marvelous part of the fortress Monarch had chosen to show off.

“I want to know where Clip is,” said White as Aq led him down grey and white marble halls.

“Huh?” asked Aq.

“The day I came here, two ponies disappeared from the island. One of them was Carpenter and the other was named Clip.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Aq, leading him to another wide doorway. “I don’t keep track of that kind of stuff. Why don’t you just keep an eye out for them when you start work today?” And Aq would say no more of the subject.

He opened the door and led White to the subject of today’s tour. Today, Monarch wanted to show off something he said made pegasi redundant: The Fortress’s generator. A massive block of glowing crystal in a metal shell, not unlike something White glimpsed in one of Scroll’s comic books.

He missed Scroll. If Scroll were here, he’d probably be able to make the explanation for how this thing worked a lot more interesting.

“Basically think of it as a super-charged version of your usual levitation,” explained Aq. “That’s how I think of it. I’m not much of an engineer, myself. Just a soldier with a set of notes.”

“Mm-hmm,” said White, looking at the device.

Aq peered at him. “Not impressed, I take it?”

“Oh, no,” said White, “it’s impressive. I just don’t see how it makes pegasi redundant. I mean, we got flying machines in Equestria. Big balloon yachts, actually. I got to go on one once.”

“We’ve eclipsed them,” said Aq, “they can only get themselves to fly; we can make an entire fortress soar through the air.”

“Well, you can make the fortress float...” muttered White. “That won’t do you all that much good if you yourselves fall off of it. And I don’t see you running the weather, either.” He looked at Aq in disbelief. “Unless that’s another project you have cooking here.”

Aq snorted a chuckle, while White looked back at the hulking mass of glowing, humming crystals.

“That is pretty neat,” said White. “Normally we use balloons...”

___________

Since the Brothers had been kicked out of the tavern, the room that they had once used for their missionary activities was now used to store her brother. Barrel was at that moment lying in bed, staring idly at the ceiling. As she entered the room, he turned to look at her.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she replied, setting the tray down onto a nearby table. “I made you some toast.”

“Thanks,” said Barrel, leaning over to reach them. “I think I’m getting better. Think I can help out...?”

Tap cut him off. “No,” she said, “you have to stay in bed for a while longer.”

“Are you managing okay?” asked Barrel. “I mean, I always liked to help and...”

“Yes, I’m doing fine,” said Tap.

Even Barrel could tell it was a lie. However, he munched on his toast silently. “I miss them,” he said after a lengthy pause.

“Huh?”

“White and Clip,” said Barrel. “And Scroll, too.”

Barrel had heard the news. He had been in the room when White fled the island, and he’d heard that Clip had been taken prisoner. Scroll... wasn’t welcome in the tavern anymore for some reason, and he hadn’t come around.

“Yeah, well...” said Tap, her voice flat and emotionless. “They got you shot.”

Barrel lay back a bit. “Was unicorns shot me...” he mumbled. “Not them.”

Tap remained silent for a few seconds before changing the subject. “I’m going to be closing the tavern for a bit,” she said. “I’m going to be going out to do something.”

“Doing what?”

“None of your business,” she said, her voice low and irritated. She threw a towel over her back. “You think you have everything you’ll need?”

“I guess,” said Barrel. He looked over at the nearby table. “Could you bring me my book?”

Tap looked at the book; it was the one Barrel had checked out from the library. Suppressing the urge to sigh and roll her eyes, she delivered the book to Barrel’s bedside.

“Thanks,” said Barrel, placing a hoof on it. As Tap turned to leave the room, however, Barrel spoke again. “Tap?” She stopped. “Are you going to see the general again?”

Tap’s hoof lay still on the doorknob.

“Tap?” Barrel repeated.

She lowered her hoof and turned around. She walked back to the bedside. Barrel looked at her, his fat face sunk in a look of contrite confusion.

“Barrel,” she said quietly, taking one of his hooves. “I know you don’t like what I do. But I have to do it.”

“Why?”

“Well...” Tap looked down. “This isn’t a good place to live. Sometimes we have to do things that are unpleasant to get by. And... things are harder than they usually are.”

“Is it because of me?” he asked. “I don’t want you to have to do it if it’s because of me.”

Tap took a deep breath. “You’re not a burden, Barrel,” she said. “Running a business like this is tough. And yes, it’s tougher when you have family to care for.” Barrel was silent. He looked down into his empty plate as though he were counting the crumbs. “Barrel,” said Tap, “Barrel, look at me.” He raised his face to meet hers. “Sometimes I have to do unpleasant things. And yes, I do do it because of you. But it’s not because you’re a load I’m stuck with. It’s because you’re my brother, and I care about you, and because you’re worth it.”

Barrel looked at her for a minute, wordlessly. Then he flung his arms around her in a big hug. Tap nearly stumbled, but she smiled and returned the gesture. “Alright, bro, you can let go.” She backed away. “Now, Barrel, I’m going to go now. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

___________

Brother Scroll, the only remaining missionary of the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia, had slept in that morning, for a given value of the word “slept.” He laid on his ramshackle bed in the library, away from the town, and stared at the ceiling. In the last couple weeks, he had come to realize how uncomfortable the island’s weather was.

In the morning it was too hot under the covers, and sometimes he would sweat into the sheets. That alone wasn’t too much of a problem, as it served as motivation to get out of bed in the morning and start the day.

But at night it got cold. His meager blanket wasn’t enough to keep him warm, and sometimes he shivered. It was at night that he missed Brother White the most. When his friend had been with him, he had felt warm and secure in bed. Now he was gone, and he had nopony.

Mustering up what willpower he could, he sat up. There was a letter by the bed that he had finished the previous night, and today he’d submit it for General Quake’s consideration. He looked it over. He’d painted a typically rosy picture of the mission’s operations, with no mention whatsoever of his partner’s flight from the island. Quake wouldn’t have a problem. But just to be sure...

He pulled a large scrapbook from under his bed and opened it up. There, true to form, was page after page of happy pictures with him, Brother White, Clip, Tap, Barrel... He paused over one picture of himself and Brother White engaged in a game of leapfrog, with White just about to jump over him.

Settling on a simple picture of the them posing with Clip (and making sure it was one that obscured the colt’s unsightly disfigurations), he slipped it out of the scrapbook and folded the letter around it, placing it in an envelope.

With a deep breath, he walked out of the library and into the sun. His nametag didn’t gleam as much as it had used to, and his tie was a little more wrinkled than it should have been. But it would have to do. A missionary had a job to do, and an iron was high on his list of priorities.

The town ignored him for the most part. It had been White that drew the most contempt, owing to the horn on his head. Scroll, being an earth pony, more or less blended in with the crowds unnoticed save for the odd glance.

It wasn’t too long of a walk out of the town to the military camp in the woods. The soldiers, seeing who he was, let him in without so much as a word or a second glance. It was as though they merely recognized him rather than knew him.

He approached the general’s tent slowly, not making any noise. He saw it was closed and didn’t dare enter. It was usually best to simply wait outside until he was let in. Though that never went well, either, if the general thought he’d been sitting on his ass outside for an hour.

Scroll sighed and sat down, contemplating the no-win situation before him. And he waited for several grinding, mind-numbing minutes, until somepony opened the flap at the tent. Tap stood there blinking in surprise.

“What are you—” she started.

“Who is it?” grunted the general’s voice, before he appeared. “The fuck do you want?”

Quake scowled at Scroll as he meekly held out the letter, and grabbed it with his own oversized hoof. “Sure, whatever,” he said, giving it a cursory look and throwing it back at Scroll. “Now fuck off.”

That went better than he had expected. Scroll picked himself up and dusted his tie off as Quake retreated back inside his tent. Tap, however, brushed past him, not even giving him a second glance.

Scroll didn’t think much about Tap ignoring him as he followed her out of the camp. She hadn’t exactly been treating him warmly since Barrel had gotten shot. He planned to just give her breathing room for the time being and go back to the mission house, but then he noticed something.

Tap wasn’t heading back into town towards her tavern. She was going into the forest.

Scroll had to follow her.

___________

Carpenter was filthy. He hadn’t had a chance to bathe or catch his bearings or so much as get a decent amount of sleep.

And now here he was, in a dark room, sitting at a table across from a unicorn. There was something about this unicorn he didn’t like, with that blonde hair and that “prim and proper” appearance.

“Well,” said the horner, who was probably a faggy piece of shit just like White, “I understand you’re probably feeling very frustrated at this turn of—”

“I remember you,” he said.

The unicorn stared at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re that piece of shit missionary who got sent over,” said Carpenter. “Before you ran off and those other piece of shit missionaries came.”

The unicorn coughed lightly. “There’s no need for that kind of language—”

“Go fuck yourself,” said Carpenter. “You scumbags kidnap me and hole me up here and talk down to me like I’m fucking retarded or something?” He snorted. “You always were an asshole.”

The former missionary sat silent for a moment, before resuming. “What was your occupation on Earthquake Island?”

“I was a carpenter. Did stuff with wood.”

“Hm…” said the unicorn, looking over some papers. “Well, we might be able to find a job for you in manufacturing.”

“A job?” asked Carpenter. “What is this?”

“The unicorns take prisoners,” he explained. “And they try to find uses for them. That’s a nice way of saying slavery.”

“They?” Carpenter repeated, biting on the word.

The unicorn stared back. “I’m just trying to make things easier for you.” Carpenter’s eyes bored into his. “I’m not one of them.”

“Sure fucking looks like it.”

Guards escorted him out of the dimly lit room and into a dimly lit tunnel. Faint white orbs glowed from the ceiling, and their light was cold. Carpenter didn’t like them—they were too cold and sterile compared to the torches and candles back home.

He was now a prisoner. This much he knew. To what end, he didn’t know and he barely cared. He thought about Buzz. If the kid had any sense, he’d set up in their shop and carry on the trade. Hopefully he’d get better at it.

The unicorn guard shoved him through another doorway, into a larger, dark stone hall where other earth ponies trundled idly around.

“Next!” the guard said, as a young colt shuffled past Carpenter, before he and the guards disappeared back into the room with the ex-missionary.

“They’re gonna make us slaves,” said one of the prisoners.

“Sounds like it,” Carpenter mumbled back.

That was as far as any conversation was going to get with Carpenter. Among the new prisoners, not one of them was a pony he could call a friend. The closest he had was Clip, which, given the circumstances of their predicament, said very little. Or rather, a lot.

That colt was in the middle of being harassed by a few other foal prisoners, and had taken refuge on an unevenly-jutting bump in the wall, suspended well above the jeering colts.

“Can’t stay up there forever, shit-wing!”

“Bet I can stay longer than you!” Clip retorted.

Carpenter snorted. Nonsensical as it may have been, in a way he blamed that little shit-wing for landing him here, even though it was actually the other way around.

True to his word, however, Clip did manage to stay there long enough for the other kids to get bored and walk off in search of easier amusement, though not before promising that they would get him eventually. Clip simply blew a raspberry at them.

“I’m not scared of them,” Clip said out loud, reassuring himself and anyone who would listen.

“Of course not,” said Carpenter. “You’re a kid. You’re not scared of anything.”

“Nuh-uh!” protested Clip. “I’m scared of a lotta things. Like losing White and Scroll and Tap and Barrel. And the mean unicorns. And you!” He shot Carpenter a glare. “Just not them. They’re just other kids. And they can’t get me ‘cause I’m all high up.”

Carpenter began to tune out the pinko’s yammering and just thought about what his own predicament was. They were gonna have him working. On what? Carving wood?

Clip dropped down from his bump on the wall and landed on the floor with a clack.

“I’m gonna ‘scape,” he said.

“Yeah, you do that,” mumbled Carpenter. “I’m just gonna... carve wood, I guess.”

Clip tilted his head. “You aren’t gonna come along with?”

Carpenter narrowed his eyes. “What, are you inviting me?”

“No,” said Clip. “You’re mean. But I forgive you.”

Carpenter stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. “Huh?”

“You got me caught,” said Clip. “That’s all your fault. But I forgive you, just like Scroll said. Just like I forgave Scroll when he lied and said he was really popular even though nopony liked him. But I like him so I guess that’s not a lie. So, you wanna come with?”

“I thought you said I wasn’t invited.”

“You’re not,” said Clip, “but you can come if you want. You can build a boat.”

Carpenter stared at him.

“You can build a boat and then we can get away in it,” said Clip. “Maybe even make a really big boat.”

Carpenter stopped and thought about it. Yeah, a boat. Jump off the side of the thing into a boat.

Well, there were worse ideas.

___________

“Tap, wait up!” Scroll called, running after her.

“What do you want?” Tap snapped, not looking back at him.

They came up to the cabin. Scroll slowed as he looked up at it.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Where they’re storing the food. Quake said I could take some,” Tap mumbled, disappearing inside the door.

Scroll stepped inside and looked around. The light seeped in through the windows, showing the faded, rotten wooden chairs and tables that littered the room. His eyes fell upon an old dusty fireplace, and he thought for a minute that it was very odd that this was a storage facility out here in the woods...

Tap emerged from a doorway, hauling some bags on her back from a staircase that Scroll presumed led into the basement. “What are you looking at?”

Scroll stood there and quietly said, “This was a house.”

“Yeah?” said Tap. “What’s your...”

“Why is there a house all the way out here?” Scroll asked. “Nopony’s living here and we’re away from the town.”

“Scroll,” Tap snapped. Scroll jumped, roused from his train of thought. “What are you doing here?”

“Tap, I’m worried about you. You haven’t spoken to me in two weeks.”

“Gee, it’s almost like I don’t want to talk to you,” said Tap in a heightened voice of feigned curiosity. “What, you think you can help me or something?”

“I think if you let me, maybe I can—”

“You can’t even help yourself.”

“I’m trying!”

Tap took a step back, surprised.

“Tap, I’m sorry,” Scroll said. “I am so sorry about what happened to your brother. Do you think I wanted him to get shot? Do you think that I don’t care? Do you think it’s been easy for me with White and Clip gone? Do you think it isn’t troubling when you won’t talk to me for two weeks?”

“I...”

“You still have Barrel,” said Scroll. “You still have him, and he’s safe... I don’t know what’s happened to White or Clip. I don’t know if they’re alive or dead, and I have to carry on the mission by myself. I’m scared, Tap, and h dnf nuh...”

Tap had inserted her hoof into his mouth.

“No... no no no...” Tap said, shaking her head. “Don’t do that. Don’t make me feel sorry for you, you look at me with those big eyes through those glasses and I can’t take it and it just makes me... eeyewch...” She groaned. She looked back at Scroll, who was still standing there with her hoof in his mouth. “Wow, you really don’t have a gag reflex...”

“Gf rfeff?”

Tap removed her foreleg from his mouth and shook it dry. “Okay...” she said. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you,” said Scroll, adjusting his glasses. “So...” He looked around at the room. “This is a house...”

“Yeah,” said Tap. “Why?” She peered at Scroll cautiously; his face had taken on a solemn, almost sunken appearance. “Scroll?”

“I need to speak to Quake. And the soldiers.”

___________

General Quake was, in a sense, always welcome in Tap’s tavern. His... relationship with Tap, combined with his position on the island, afforded him certain privileges that she wouldn’t grant to other strangers. It wasn’t as though the door could keep him out, anyway. As there were no other patrons there, he felt it would be a reasonable place to hold a military meeting. As such, he was in his full fancy military uniform, bedecked with medals of his own making. They didn’t actually stand for anything—he’d simply seen other military figures decorated with them and liked the sense of authority they conveyed.

The tables had been arranged for Quake’s various soldiers and officers to sit around and discuss the vital matters. Some of Quake’s advisors were also there, but their presence, here or anywhere, amounted to little; the degree to which one could “advise” the general was largely a matter of speculation.

“So why can’t you figure it out?” he asked to the others.

“S-sir,” stuttered his lieutenant, “it’s unicorn tech. None of us are unicorns?”

“Well, what about that unicorn engineer we captured?” asked Quake. “The fuck is he?”

“Sir,” said Trigger Mark, “you stuffed him down the cannon’s mouth just last week.”

“Oh yeah...” Quake hummed. “Fucking prick.”

“Why is it that complicated?” asked Gunner. “I mean, it’s just a—”

“Big fucking weapon with a ton of moving parts and magical components,” Quake cut him off. “And the magical components are a pain in the ass if we can’t get them to work. And nopony here know how unicorn shit works.”

“Scroll knows a little.” Gunner shrugged. The others stirred uncomfortably, and Quake narrowed his eyes at him.

“Gunner, shut the fuck up and don’t say anything else for the rest of the meeting,” he said. Gunner made a weak little saluting motion with his hoof and reclined back in his chair. “We aren’t telling the little faggot anything about it, understood?”

There was a general murmur of agreement from the ponies in the room.

“Good,” said the general, returning to the list in from of him. “Next time King Horner comes around try to take some of them alive. Especially if they look smart,” he added. “I want this thing working. See how much he likes this ‘cannon engine’ when it’s pointed at him.”

The door opened. The soldiers all fell silent and looked to the doorway. There was Tap. She looked awkwardly at the other ponies in the room.

“Was wondering when you were getting back,” said Quake.

“Scroll has something he wants to say,” she said, stepping into the room. Scroll stumbled in behind him, carrying some large rolled-up pieces of paper. He stopped and stared at the room full of ponies. At the general. He took a loud gulp, and made his way to a table that wasn’t fully occupied. The only other occupant was a pony with some hideous scars and an eyepatch, two features that made him appear quite cranky.

“Eheh...” Scroll chuckled. “Do you mind?” The eyepatch soldier made no response, just glaring at him. “Right, thank you, okay...” Scroll unrolled a chart and placed it on the table. He took a deep breath, and after a lengthy pause, spoke. “The pegasi are going to attack. And soon.”

The soldiers looked at him. After nopony else spoke, Trigger Mark leaned forward. “How do you know?” he asked.

“I’ve been collecting data,” Scroll explained, drawing his hoof across the chart. “The pegasus army, y’see, they attack because, ‘cause...” He stammered. He took a few more breaths. “They steal food, right? Well, since you guys have been keeping track of what they take. Well...” He looked back down at the map. “If you look at the data, y’see they, they. They only attack when they need to. Most of these intervals we can see a direct correlation between the amount of food they take and when they attack next. They attack when it runs out...”

“Huh?” asked Gunner. “We already tried using that to predict, but they always attack way before it runs out.”

“Before it’d run out for earth ponies,” Scroll corrected. “Pegasus ponies, they have much faster metabolisms.”

“Simple terms?” Gunner asked, tilting his head.

“They go through food faster,” explained Scroll. “I mean, they fly. They have two extra limbs and, I mean, Clip.” He swallowed. “I mean, when we used to make grilled cheese sandwhiches, White and I would have two each, and Clip’d have like five—”

“Is there a fucking point?” asked Quake.

Scroll shrank a little. “I’m saying if we know when they’re going to attack, we can prepare for it.”

“Good,” said Quake. “Now fuck off.”

The soldiers slowly turned their attention back to the general. Scroll looked around at the room, back at Tap. She was off behind the counter, acting as though she hadn’t been paying attention to him at all. He gathered up his papers and left the tavern.

Once again, his words had fallen on deaf ears. But somehow he got an inkling. He thought about what White would say to lighten the mood. “Nothing is impossible,” he might say. “You’re a smart guy, Scroll. You can figure it out.”

It wasn’t unworkable. It was just a complicated problem that had to be sorted out. Today he’d gotten another piece of the puzzle. Now he just had to put the pieces together and get the clear picture in the open.

___________

Brother White’s desk was nicer than he’d had before. That was a plus. Fancy marble. He almost didn’t like touching it because he was afraid of getting it dirty. He imagined if Brother Scroll had been there he’d say something about how it’s bad for skin to come into contact with marble because of the oils or something like that.

What was not to his liking was the earth pony sitting across from him, shooting him an awful death glare.

“Knew you were like the rest of ‘em,” the earth pony said. “Said you weren’t, now you are.”

“Listen, I’m just trying to work with what I got.”

The earth pony’s eyes flitted around at the fancy room—bright torches, gleaning stone walls, ornately carved pillars—and then looked back at White.

“Must be really fucking hard,” he said. “Can I go now?”

“Listen, just...” White sputtered. “One more question.”

“What?”

“Have you seen a pink colt?” asked White. “Scars on his back? His name is Clip, and he—”

“Haven’t seen any,” the pony said with a sneer. “That it?”

White sighed and nodded. “Yes. You can go now. But please, if you see him, tell me.”

The earth pony frowned at him. “Up yours, dick-tickler,” he said, and walked away.

White didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He’d had a hard enough time talking to the earth ponies on the island. Now he had to do it on this fortress, and without Brother Scroll to help him.

His work finished, he organized his desk as nicely as he could. Then he got up from his seat and went for the door, all the while puzzling on his new situation. It was in some ways like the mission work he had been accustomed to, though he was a lot more confined by Monarch’s rules. Whereas Quake had allowed them more or less free rein to do as they pleased as long as they didn’t annoy him, Monarch had a strict itinerary for him. Also, the soldiers were nicer.

He was greeted by an aquamarine unicorn in splendid, polished armor.

“Any luck with the riff-raff?” asked the soldier.

“About the same as usual,” White muttered, choosing not to comment on the the guard’s wording.

“I don’t see why you even bother,” replied the soldier, leading him down the hallways. Other unicorns passed. What they were doing White could only guess.

“We all have obligations,” said White. “Mine turned up a bit differently than I thought.”

“I like my job better,” said the soldier. “Gets very obvious results.”

White bit his tongue in an effort to stop himself from making a disparaging remark about his doubts on the virtues of shooting.

“Well, here we are,” said the soldier, as he held another door open.

“Thank you, Aq,” said White, passing through.

The room, White reasoned, was much larger than it needed to be. It was a gigantic dining hall, filled with tables populated by various well-dressed unicorns. Well, well-dressed in comparison to Earthquake Island. Brother White was not so sure if he could compare them to the glimpses he’d caught of the Canterlot elite. Still, as he looked at one unicorn pony sporting a monocle, he suspected they fancied themselves on that level.

Up at the end of the hall was a table with three seats, one of which was empty and reserved for himself. The other two were filled. In one seat sat Brother Shine and in the other, General Monarch.

“So glad you could join us,” said Monarch. “Our meals are due to arrive any moment.”

As if on cue, a unicorn entered, carrying three bowls of salad in his magic aura.

White sat down as his salad did the same, looking warily at the other two. Brother Shine immediately began eating, not making eye contact with either of the others.

“How goes your tasks at mediating with the prisoners?” asked the general.

“Not so well,” said White. “Though I think I know what we can do to help.”

“Oh?” asked the general. Shine looked up nervously.

“Yeah,” said White. “Not keeping them prisoners, for one thing. Barging in, snatching up earth ponies and putting them to work doing...” He looked down at the salad.

“A necessary evil, I’m afraid,” said Monarch, raising a fork with several leaves speared on it. “They’re so much better at growing the food than we are.” He took a very pointed bite off the end of the fork.

“What’s my job again?” asked White.

“Tend to their needs,” said Monarch.

“Haven’t I been trying,” said White. “I can’t help them all that much if they hate me. I mean, they hated me before, but now they hate me more than ever. And if they hate me I can guarantee they don’t think very kindly of you.”

“The thought occurred to me,” said Monarch, admiring the silver gleam on his utensils. “Which is precisely why I have enlisted the aid of you two.”

“Meaning?”

Monarch turned to him, an eyebrow narrowed. Even with the white noise of the conversations of the ponies around them faintly humming around them, his gaze seemed to make the whole room seem silent. “You’re a pacifist,” he said, leaning towards him. “Pacify them.”

Shine made a loud cough, drawing the attentions of the other two.

“Sorry,” he said. “May I be excused for a moment? I need to use the bathroom.”

“Certainly.” Monarch nodded. Shine hastily made his way away from the table, though he took great care to leave his napkin carefully folded on the chair. When he left, the general turned back to White.

“You haven’t tried the wine, have you?” he asked, nodding to their empty glasses. White shook his head. Monarch smiled and lifted a bottle into the air, bathed in his purple magic aura. The cork emerged with a loud pop, and he poured two glasses, first one for White and then one for himself. He lifted the glass to his nose and breathed in. “Ahh... Shame you haven’t tried it. It’s much finer than the usual whiskeys and ‘moonshines’ that the earth ponies down below concoct.”

White took a sip of his and grimaced. “Not my thing,” he whispered.

“An acquired taste, I’m sure,” Monarch said. He turned to look at the crowd of unicorns. Then he stood up. Almost immediately their chatter ceased, and they all stared up at him. White looked at him too, and he noted the smirk on his face. “Gracious guests,” he announced, in a deep, booming voice, “I would like to thank you all for being here tonight. I would like to propose a toast!” He lifted his glass. White glanced down at his own, wondering exactly what Monarch was here to toast.

“To our wonders of industry and magic,” the general continued. “For while the pegasi have their swiftness and the earth ponies have... an obstinate refusal to die, I suppose...” There was a light chuckle throughout the room. “We have the superior minds. We can accomplish that which they can only dream of.” He raised his glass. “To the unicorns!”

“The unicorns!” chanted back the guests.

Seemingly pleased with himself, Monarch sat down, looking at White. “How was the speech?” he asked. “I trust you can give some advice?”

White sat there in silence for a moment, before standing up. “Excuse me,” he said, “I need to use the bathroom, too.”

He rushed over in the direction Shine had gone, somewhat clumsily brushing past a few tables whose occupants had pushed their chairs out just a little too far. He muttered his apologies and eventually passed through a doorway, finding himself in a spacious marble bathroom.

“And I thought my bathroom back home was big...” White muttered.

Shine was busy washing his hooves in the sink, staring at himself fretfully in the mirror.

“Hey,” said White. Shine turned to look at him. “What are we doing?”

Shine shook his hooves, one at a time, before answering. “Whatever Monarch says we’re supposed to do, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of a problem,” said White. “What happened to you? You were assigned to the island. We were supposed to meet up months ago.”

“Well, those plans didn’t take into account the whole ‘trying to murder me’ thing,” Shine answered in deadpan. “I’m guessing they did the same to you?”

“Three... no, four times,” White recalled. “Yeah, four times.”

“Nopony’s tried to get me here,” said Shine. “Except for that one dude who said he was gonna break off my horn and ram it up my ass.”

“You know, it’s funny, I think Quake used that line once.”

“Please don’t remind me of that pony.” Shine shuddered.

“So what do we do?” White asked. “I don’t exactly think Monarch is totally with us on the whole ‘mission’ thing. So... what do we do?” he asked again.

Shine shrugged. “Well, I just go with the flow.”

And Brother Shine left the bathroom, leaving White to puzzle before the mirror.

---

Chapter 30

“Hey, I can walk,” said Barrel, wobbling a little where he stood. Though as he was a mere two steps away from his bed, saying he could walk might have been a bit of a premature assessment.

Tap anxiously watched him, tapping her hoof against the floor. “Think you can make it to the safehouse?” she asked.

“Sure...” Barrel said, though he halted a little.

Tap moved to the window and looked outside. Ponies were scurrying down the roads as soldiers took their places, getting ready for the impending pegasus attack. Scroll, it turned out, had been right. She just hoped that she and her brother could make it to somewhere safe in time.

There was a knock on the tavern door.

“Who on...” Tap started, but somehow she got a funny feeling she knew. She stomped her way out into the main room of the tavern and up to the front door, and opened it. “What is it, Scroll?”

Scroll seemed a little taken aback. “I was just coming to check on you and stuff...”

“We’re fine,” said Tap. “We were just leaving.”

“Good, good...” said Scroll, nodding.

“So what are you doing?” she asked, tapping her hoof.

“I’m going to try something,” said Scroll. “I kinda have a plan.”

Tap stared at him. “A plan.” She said flatly. “You have… a plan.”

“Yes...” Scroll nodded. “There’s a lot of spare food and other things over at the library from the Fraternity. Blankets, medicine, all that. I’m going to try to give it to the pegasus ponies.”

Tap’s jaw dropped and she gaped at him. “C... come in here for a moment,” she said, standing aside.

“Really?”

“Just get in here,” she pressed, practically shoving him inside. She shut the door behind her with an audible latching sound, and wheeled around to him. “Are you nuts?” she hissed.

Scroll took a step backwards. “I...” He fumbled. “I’m out of ideas, Tap,” he confessed. “I don’t know what else I can do. I just know this: the pegasi attack because they’re after the food. They can’t make anything themselves. Maybe... if we just give them the food, they’ll go away.”

“You think playing nice with the pegasi, the guys who send tornados to rip through the town, is gonna work?”

“Has anyone tried?” Scroll shrugged.

Tap just shook her head and snorted. “Y... you. You just... just...” She groaned.

“I’ll go now, let you get to the safehouse...” said Scroll. “Just... you two stay safe.”

Tap raised her head as he turned around and started walking out of the tavern. This was stupid. This was the worst idea she had ever heard. He was about to get himself killed if he followed through with this. Worst of all, Scroll probably knew that. Her eyes frantically scanned the room and fell upon a large bottle on the counter. Perfect.

THWACK!

___________

Brother White briefly contemplated a fear of heights as he looked over the terrace. The outside of the fortress was a snaking system of walkways and towers, sprawling over a giant floating rock like some kind of uneven growth. Some of the towers were pristine and shiny, while others were lopsided, chipped, and crooked.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?” asked Aq.

General Monarch had been so kind as to permit Brother White to take a stroll along the outside of the fortress, with its ostensibly scenic stone pathways overlooking the endless water. White could only think that it was trying to emulate the grace and beauty of Canterlot, but it had been cobbled together by a pony who had only ever heard of the place. He’d also apparently only ever heard of pleasing architecture in general.

“Yeah,” said White, looking over the sea. “I remember one time we went on vacation on an island and spent a day in a town on a cliffside overlooking the beach. Water as far as the eye could see. It’s like that here, except everywhere. No land in sight.” He scratched the floor with his hoof. “You think that’d be awesome or terrifying for a swimmer?” he asked. “I mean, on the one hoof there’s a lot of water. On the other hoof... what happens when you want to stop swimming?”

“Um...” said Aq. “I’d never really thought about that. I just assumed I’d drown if I fell off.”

“Well, they could always fish you back out,” said White. “Or get you out with those flashy transport things.”

“I suppose they could...” Aq mused. “Still, I don’t fancy myself stupid enough to fall off.”

“You could slip or trip,” said White. “Or take a dip...”

“Huh?”

“Sorry,” said White. “Just thought that could make a catchy tune.” He turned around. “I think I should return to my work.”

“But...” Aq peered at him. “You don’t have any work right now. This is your time off...”

White sauntered up to him and looked him square in the face. “I’m bored. My work keeps me from being bored.”

Aq took a step back. “Well...” he said, looking around as them and hemming a little. “We’ll… see what we can do about that.” There was a pause as he stood, looking back at the expectant Brother White with staring, uncertain eyes. “Right, follow me.”

___________

Brother Scroll found himself feeling very sore indeed when he came aware again.

“Gnuuuuughhh...” Scroll groaned. “Did I get drunk again?”

He blinked as his eyes refused to properly adjust to the light. There was nothing but a dim lantern to illuminate what must have been somepony’s basement or cellar.

“You had a bottle,” said Tap, her voice little above a mutter.

Through the thick walls they could all hear the faint blowing of cannons and guns. The battle had begun.

Scroll sat up, stroking his sore head with a hoof. “My head...” He looked around as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. A large pony, who he quickly reasoned was Barrel, sat in the corner, panting for breath. “Guess I missed my plan...” said Scroll.

“I don’t think it would’ve worked,” said Tap.

“Back to the drawing board...” Scroll muttered with a sigh.

“Yeah, you do that,” said Tap, “we got plenty of time to just sit here.”

He couldn’t tell whose basement it was, but he guessed it was nopony he knew. It was full of danky old wooden furniture, shelves, and chests. He sighed as he leaned back in an old stuffy armchair that had likely been a snack to a number of vagabond moths, listening to the faint murmur of cannonfire from outside.

“Hey mister?” asked a voice. Scroll looked next to him and saw a young filly looking up at him. “Are you the mission guy?”

“Um... Yes?” said Scroll, bracing himself for a painful jeer.

“I miss the house,” said the filly. “I liked staying there during attacks.”

Scroll sighed and sagged a little into his chairs. “I miss it too...” he said softly. He missed the house. He missed White and Clip. He missed having a family here on the island. Well, he reasoned, at least Tap’s talking to me again.

“I liked the pies...” said the filly.

Tap walked over next to him. “Looks like somepony’s a fan of your cooking.”

“Finally, a victory.” Scroll smiled self-deprecatingly and weakly bucked the air.

“Small steps, right?” asked Tap.

“I... liked... the pies... too...” Barrel panted.

“Well, sad to say,” said Scroll, “but the pies are off the table for the near future. They just take too much time and resources to make. Though maybe I could make lemon bars...”

“Hard times,” quipped Tap. A particularly loud bang resounded from outside, making them all jump.

“I hope we don’t lose our trees,” Barrel said softly. “I remember… we used to have a pineapple tree, didn’t we, Tap?”

Tap smiled and looked down. “Yeah…” she said. “I remember that.”

“What’s pineapple?” asked the filly.

“Oh…” said Tap, rolling her eyes. “It’s a funny little fruit.”

“It tasted like, really tangy,” said Barrel. “Almost stung a bit, kinda.”

“That’d be the citric acid,” Scroll added.

“Acid?” asked Barrel, his eyes growing wide in horror.

“We had a tree in our own little stake,” said Tap, chuckling softly. “We could sell it for a nice price.” She traced an oblong circle on the floor she stood on and smiled wistfully down at it.

“What happened?” asked Scroll.

“What do you think?” asked Tap, looking up at him. “It burned down, and that was that.”

Scroll jumped at a particularly loud bang from outside. “I hope the library doesn’t burn down,” Scroll muttered. Then he sulked. “Knowing my luck...”

“Hope does not spring eternal?” Tap asked in feigned shock.

“Well... that was kinda White’s department...” Scroll admitted. “But still, I just need another idea.”

Tap looked up at the ceiling as a hail of gunfire sounded.

“I don’t think they’re using tornados,” said Tap. “Odd.”

“Maybe they decided they didn’t like getting chopped up by those... those...” Scroll couldn’t bring himself to spit the rest of the words out.

“Maybe,” said Tap. “Or maybe they’re doing something else...” She looked over at Scroll. “I don’t think that plan of yours would’ve worked.”

“Probably not,” said Scroll. “Guess I was just kinda... desperate for anything.”

“Why don’t you just go home?” asked Tap. “I mean... if I were in your position I’d just see it as a waste of time.”

“I don’t think trying to help other ponies is a waste of time,” said Scroll. “And...” He thought about it. About the idea of going home. “I don’t think I could.”

“I don’t know,” said Tap. “I think you could easily sneak onto one of the ships.”

“No, not like that,” said Scroll. “I don’t think I could bring myself to. Maybe earlier I could, but now...” He looked up at the ceiling. “Before I joined the Fraternity I felt like crud. No friends. No confidence. I just sort of sat around and did my thing. Then I joined and, well... I met White. I met you and Barrel. I met Clip.” He looked back down. “Maybe I wasn’t completely honest the other day. Maybe part of it was just... I felt like I was doing something worthwhile. Like my life had meaning. Not that it really makes me feel great right now.”

“So what’s the part that stops you from leaving?” asked Tap.

Scroll sat quietly for a moment. “I think about White. And about the promise I made. And I think about how if I give up, I’ll remember it for the rest of my life, and I’ll just wonder if there wasn’t something else I could have done.” He looked at her. “I’m not a very bold pony, Tap. I think I’m almost a coward.”

Tap sat there in silence for a minute. Then she said, “Well, I wouldn’t really call you a coward. I mean, you tried my firewhiskey.”

Scroll chortled.

“So...” Tap paused. “What was that you were on about, over at the storehouse?” she asked. “The whole ‘this used to be somepony’s house’ thing?”

“Well... ahem...” Scroll cleared his throat. “Well, you know how this town gets, well, attacked, all the time by the other ponies?”

“Yeah...?” asked Tap.

“Well, that happens,” Scroll continued. “And ponies die.”

“And?” asked Tap.

“I haven’t exactly seen a lot of newborn foals on my mission...” said Scroll. “There aren’t a lot of new, young ponies to replace the ponies who get killed or kidnapped, and so...” He took another breath and looked at her. “The population gets smaller. Tap... the town is shrinking...”

“Oh...” said Barrel. “Ohhhhh...”

“That’s the thing,” said Scroll. “The island, it... it isn’t going to last. Not like this. The earth ponies will keep fighting with the unicorns and the pegasi for I dunno how long, and, maybe the best-case scenario is that the last few earth ponies realize that everyone else is dead and they leave. And, well...” Scroll had not taken a breath at all in that sentence, and began to compensate for lost air. Tap, meanwhile, sat in stunned silence.

“Well...” said Barrel. “We gotta stop it, then.”

Tap might’ve rebuffed this. She might not have. But the conversation ended suddenly, brought to an end by a series of loud thumps from upstairs, and everypony fell silent. After another pause, they could hear faint hoofsteps above. Tap frantically fidgeted.

“Shit!” whispered Tap. “I forgot my gun! Everyone hide!”

She blew out the lantern and the ponies all scrambled to get behind something. Barrel and the filly dragged themselves behind some chests, while Scroll ducked under a shelf.

He sat there, staring up into the darkness, almost afraid to breathe. A loud thump banged on the door to the cellar. Scroll strained his ears, and he thought he heard a voice come from above, but he couldn’t make out the words.

The thump came again. Scroll inched backwards in his hiding place, and brushed up against someone else. He let out an excited, high-pitched squeak and jumped, hitting his head on the shelf above him. Hooves seized him, one of them clamping his mouth shut.

“Shhh!” Tap whispered next to him. The thumps continued. “They’re gonna break down the door!”

“What do we do?” Scroll asked in a frantic hush.

“I don’t know...” said Tap. The thumps stopped for a moment. “Maybe they’ll just pass by...”

Scroll held his breath, as though worried that letting out a relieved sigh would signal fate itself to crash down the door.

But clearly Tap had jinxed it herself. There was a thunderous crash, and the door burst open. A dim sliver a light peered down.

“And gotcha!” cheered a voice from above; a voice Scroll recognized.

___________

White was back in that miserable, grey little room, sitting behind a cold, marble desk. He thought back to the extravagant luxuries in his room and the shining turrets on the outside of the fortress, and White was reminded of something from his foalhood. Once, when he had been in a school choir, his class had gone to Canterland to play some music. Canterland was a fun little amusement park, full of bright colors and fun games. But the choir went backstage, and there they saw that the scenic displays were hollow and propped up with bits of wood. White found that the fortress was a lot like that, except with less roller coasters and more misery.

“So are you gonna be less useless this time?” asked the earth pony before him.

“I’m trying,” said White. He leaned backwards, as though slightly afraid the earth pony was going to explode at him. “Now, sir, what’s your name?”

The earth pony was thin and gray, raggedy in such a way that White couldn’t be sure if he was just like that or if the unicorns had been mistreating him. It was likely both.

“Duster,” he said.

“And...” White leaned forward. “What do they have you do, Duster?”

Duster’s eyes shifted. “Some weird construction thing. I dunno what it is. They have me putting this same thing together over and over again... I dunno what it’s supposed to be, I’m good at cleaning garbage.”

“You’re a garbage pony?”

Duster snorted. “Never been afraid of getting dirty.”

“Huh...” said White, nodding. “More than I can say...”

“So yeah. I dunno what it is. I think it’s some kind of metal frame... they have me put it together with bolts and everything. But I don’t know what it is.”

“A frame?” asked White. “That sounds like... Hm.” He thought about it for a moment. “Maybe it’s part of something else? Something bigger?

“That makes the most sense,” said Duster. He looked at the door. “Wait, what are we talking about?”

“Well,” said White, levitating a quill. “It’s my... job here to help you. And I can’t do that unless I get a complete picture. And Duster?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think they want us see the complete picture.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I think they’re trying to hide something from me, and you too.” He smiled. “So can we keep a little secret? Like friends?”

Duster narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, and then turned to look around the room. Then he looked back at White. “What is this?” he asked. “Some kind of trick?”

“No!” said White. “Duster…”

“The fuck are you calling me by name?” asked Duster. “I don’t even know you—”

“My name is Brother Pearly White,” he said instantly. “I’m from a nice suburb in northern Equestria, with a sister and two brothers, I got the lead in the school musical four years in a row, every year at Nightmare Night I won all the costume awards, I’m a member of the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia, and…” He took a deep breath and looked at Duster, who stared back at him in stark, stunned silence. “And I am desperately trying to help. And I can help you if you let me. So…” He leaned back in his seat. “Now you know me!”

Duster stared at him, slack-jawed. “Uhh…” he said. “I cleaned garbage… I think I said that…”

“Yes you did,” said White. “Not afraid to get dirty. See? I’m getting to know you!” Duster stared blankly at him. “So listen, you don’t have to trust me,” said White. “Asking you to trust me is… probably kind of a dumb idea. So if you feel you have secrets or things you don’t want the unicorns to know, that’s fine. But I want to know what the unicorns are having you do. You can tell me that, right?”

Duster narrowed his eyes. “I guess…”

And then a thought clicked into White’s head. Garbage… he thought. Clip! “The foals.”

“Huh?”

“Do you know where the foals are?”

Duster tilted his head. “Not really… I’ve heard of some folks being captured with their foals, but I dunno what they do with them.”

White looked down at the desk.

“If I were you,” suggested Duster, “I’d question the soldiers. They’re the ones who do it. They snatch us and give us over someone else to sort us.”

“So,” said White. “I find who they turn you into, I find the kids?”

“Sounds like it.”

“Good,” said White. “That’ll be all for now, I think.”

Duster shrugged and got up, heading back to the door.

“But Duster,” said White. “I’d like you to keep an eye out for things. Tell me anything you’re suspicious of, any ideas you have about what they have you up to, anything you can figure out about what they’re doing…”

“Isn’t that all pretty much the same thing?”

White deflated in his seat. “Yeah, I guess.”

Duster went for the door and, before he left, gave one more curious glance at Brother White.

___________

The figure descended the steps. Scroll could barely see him, but he knew it was a pegasus soldier, limber and lithe.

“Helloooo?” called the voice. It was high-pitched and hollow. And then Scroll realized who it was: It was Eagle, the pony who had tried to kill him before.

Eagle stood there, looking around. Beside Scroll, Tap was clenching her teeth, and Scroll was sure she was wishing she had her gun. Scroll couldn’t see anything on him, but he was sure that the soldier was armed.

“Anypony home?” Eagle asked. “Nopony hiding, I hope? I don’t like anyone who hides...” Scroll could hear him humming something to himself as he milled around, checking for anyone. Scroll looked in the direction he thought Barrel and the filly had gone. Eagle seemed to be walking there.

Scroll could feel Tap tense up next to him. His eyes followed Eagle as his brain pounded in his ears. He needed to do something, but what?

Only one thought occurred to him. The same seem to have occurred to Tap, too, because both of them did the exact same thing. A surge shot through both of them as they lept from their hiding places and threw themselves at Eagle. Eagle let out a surprised yelp as they tackled him, smashing him into a barrel (but not, thankfully, into Barrel).

Scroll felt a flap of feathers in his face and stumbled backwards, tripping over a wayward bucket. Eagle spun around and clocked Tap across the face with a rear hoof, knocking her to the floor. Scroll fumbled, trying to get to his feet, and squeaked out, “Tap!”

Eagle stopped and Scroll watched as his shadowy form slowly turned to face him. Then, he said in a dangerously low hiss, “You!”

Scroll stepped backwards, his mouth clenched in fear.

“You’re the little pussy who got me on the tornados,” Eagle growled. “I’m gonna make you bleed out for that.”

Scroll took a step back. “Tap? Barrel? Other filly?” he asked. “Run!”

And Brother Scroll, who was almost a coward, turned and bolted up the stairs.

He didn’t know whose house it was. It didn’t really matter at the moment. At this time, he had two options: Run for the door outside, or run up the next flight of stairs.

He heard a clatter and a flap of wings from below, signaling Eagle’s pursuit. Scroll ran upstairs, only taking one terrified glance down below. He could see Eagle, his wings tucked at his side, speeding up the stairs. Scroll galloped as fast as his legs would take him, and he heard Eagle’s high voice screaming.

“You’re dead, do you hear me?! DEAD!”

Scroll emerged at the top of the stairs in a hallway. He ran for the first door and reached for the doorknob... and it was locked.

He couldn’t tell what seemed louder: his blood pounding or the hoofsteps. Then he felt something grip his head, and then his head was slammed into the door.

“Oh, you wanna go inside?” Eagle laughed, pulling Scroll’s head back. “All you have to do is knock!”

Scroll’s head slammed into the door again. His eyes went bleary and he saw cracks starting to form in the wooden door. His glasses broke and fell off of his face, clattering to the floor in pieces. Eagle went for another slam, but this time Scroll pressed his hooves to the door.

He gritted his teeth, pushing back against the pegasus soldier. Eagle pressed on him, making his knees bend. In a ditch of effort, Scroll pushed off the doorway, making both of them stumble away from the door.

But Eagle spread his wings and gave on last heft, and both of them crashed into the door, smashing it right off its hinges.

Scroll flew into the room, slamming into the floor, coughing. Eagle stepped into the room. It was a large bedroom with a closed glass window on the end. There was a beat-up old wardrobe, likely the veteran of countless battles, next to a dusty bed with a chest at the end.

Why Scroll took all these details in at a time like this he was not really sure.

“Ohh ho ho ho!” said Eagle. He walked up to Scroll, who was shakily standing up, and clocked him across the face with a hoof.

Scroll shook and fell back to the floor.

“Oh, come on!” said Eagle, kicking him in the chest. “That easy? You almost made me think you were gonna put up a fight!”

Scroll tried to crawl away, so winded he couldn’t even groan.

“Nah,” said Eagle, walking around him. “You’re just a little pussy, ain’t ya?” He lowered his face down to Scroll’s. “A spineless little bitch. Bet you’re hoping your little filly friend comes to save you.” He looked at the doorway. “No,” he said, taking the rifle from over his shoulder. “Just you and me!”

Scroll looked up at him and noticed something about Eagle’s face. Apart from a scratch her and there, his features were smooth and his eyes bright and eager, and his steps were full of spring, but not strength. And Scroll came to a realization.

“You’re just a colt…” he whispered. “You’d be going to my old school about now… You, you’re barely even a stallion… how can somepony your age like you be…” His breath shorted in despair. “Like you?”

Eagle snorted and struck Scroll over the back with the butt of his rifle. “Life’s a bitch!” he sneered.

Scroll tensed up and whimpered at the blow, and Eagle followed with another and another, before Eagle finally threw the rifle aside.

“Stop...” said Scroll. “Please, stop...”

Eagle just laughed as he turned Scroll onto his back. He stood over him, smirking down.

___________

White decided to start keeping a journal. It wasn’t too much to ask Aq for some paper, a quill, and an inkpot.

“I like to keep track of what I’m doing,” White had said, “keep notes, that sort of thing.”

That had seemed to be enough for Aq, and White had been left in peace.

He looked over the fancy mahogany desk in his room. He felt he’d have to thank Monarch for his hospitality, no matter the ulterior motive. White just needed to figure out what the ulterior motive was.

He tapped the point of the quill against the paper. Scroll would be better at this than him...

The door opened. Brother Shine stepped in, looking around the room suspiciously.

“Why’d he give you better digs?” asked Shine.

“I dunno,” said White, “you want the desk?”

“Uhh...”

“Okay!” White piped, sitting down on his bed. He clapped his hooves together. “Let’s work our way through this: What are the earth ponies doing?”

“I dunno,” said Shine. “The unicorns are just having them do some kind of... labor or something. I don’t know all the details.”

“I asked one of them,” said White, “and he doesn’t even know what it is he’s building. I suspect it’s part of something larger, and I want to know what it is.”

“What, you mean like an assembly line?” asked Shine.

“Sure, sure,” said White. “Now...” His expression turned serious. “The unicorns are exploiting them, and Monarch doesn’t seem exactly forthcoming on what’s going on. Now, I want to know exactly what it is the earth ponies are building. Now, you’re going to help me—”

“No.”

“So we...” White blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m not doing it,” said Shine. “If it means getting in trouble with Monarch, I’m not doing it.”

“Shine, listen,” said White, “I get that this might be a little... dangerous, but it’s our job as missionaries to help them.”

“I tried helping them,” said Shine flatly. “Same as you, I got assigned to that... that princess-forsaken island. And you know what happened?” He walked up to White. “I’ll tell you. On my first day I was outside a little too late, and a gang walked over and beat me up. Brother Sky couldn’t fly without someone shooting at him. None of us felt safe for a moment. And then there was the general breathing down our necks every day, reviewing our letters home. If there was one thing in it he didn’t like he’d start making threats. And I’m pretty sure he meant all of them.” Brother Shine scowled. “No. They’d kill me if they wanted to and thought they could get away with it. I’m sick of it. I’m not lifting a hoof to help them, and I’m certainly not sticking my neck out for them.” He snorted. “So... can I go now, or was there something else?”

White stared silently at him during his rant. “N...no,” he said at last. “You can go now.”

Shine marched towards the door. White snorted softly and got up from his bed, heading over to the desk.

“I’m not stopping, Shine,” said White. “Not as long as I can keep going.”

“Your funeral,” Shine yawned, and with that he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

___________

Eagle snarled as he landed blow after blow into Scroll, his hooves striking his face, the sides of his head, his chest, and anywhere else he thought it’d hurt. Scroll stopped crying out in pain as his face grew red and purple, the blood blending into his already dark blue features.

After a volley of blows, Eagle sat over him, panting. He grinned down sadistically as he heard Scroll making a loud sniff.

“What’s the matter?” Eagle jeered. “Don’t have anything in you?”

Scroll’s eyes fluttered. Although Eagle had tossed aside the rifle, he still had a pistol holster. If he could just reach it... He tried to sit up, but Eagle laughed and swatted him in the face again.

“Oh, you want some more? Do you?” Eagle mocked. He lowered his own face in front of Scroll’s battered one, and Scroll opened his mouth. “Got something to say? Well, spit it out!”

And Scroll did spit it out. He spat a wad of blood and snot right into Eagle’s face.

Eagle let out a high-pitched yelp and stumbled backwards off of Scroll, rearing onto his hind legs. Seizing the opportunity, Scroll leapt up and charged. Eagled barrelled back, crashing into the wardrobe. They both let out a simultaneous “Oof!” as they stumbled down, Eagle to the side. Scroll backed away in time to watch as Eagle got up. The soldier glared at him, wiping the blood off of his face.

“Oh,” said Eagle. “You think you’re clever, huh? Oh, you just pissed me off!”

“Oh, please!” yelled Scroll, backing around the bed. “What are you gonna do? Kill me more?”

Eagle and Scroll stood at opposite ends of the bed, Eagle glaring. Scroll braced himself as Eagle unfurled his wings, and then it seemed like time just about froze.

Eagle lept from the floor over the bed, launching himself at Scroll.

And then Scroll ducked behind the bed. A satisfying thud landed behind him. He didn’t bother to look, but he made a mad dash for the door.

“NO YOU DON’T!” screamed Eagle, and Scroll, found himself knocked to the floor again as the other pony’s weight fell on top of him. After a brief struggle, Eagle grabbed him by the back of the neck and began dragging him back into the room. Scroll feebly swung his hooves at the empty air, trying to get his footing, but Eagle heft him up and tossed him towards the window.

Scroll landed with a crash, winded from the impact. Eagle ran up to him and picked him up, standing up on his hind legs and pinning him to the wall. Scroll looked into Eagle’s mad, almost bestial face, and could see him panting.

“Well...” said Eagle. “Any... last... words?”

“Didn’t they ever teach you gun safety?” asked somepony else.

Eagle turned his head and Scroll could see his eyes widen. Tap sat in the doorway, holding his rifle.

“Don’t leave a loaded gun unattended,” said Tap. “Makes you look like a dipshit.”

Eagle spun around, putting Scroll in a chokehold between them. Tap’s face was an unmoving, stone-faced scowl. “Let him go,” she said.

“Or what?” asked Eagle, choking a nervous laugh. “You gonna shoot me through him? Don’t think you worked that out all the way.”

“Well, it seems we have one of those...” Tap started. “Scroll, what’s that chess thing you told me about once? Where nopony wins? Boring sex or something?”

“Really?” asked Scroll. “Now?” He squirmed a little, but Eagle kept a tight grip. His hind legs were still on the floor, but he couldn’t do anything with his front legs.

Eagle peered around Scroll’s head to look at Tap. “Are you his girlfriend or something?” he asked.

“No!” snapped Tap. “And I suggest you keep your mouth shut and just stand there.”

“Riiiiiight, right...” said Eagle. Scroll saw out of the corner of his eye that his wing was slowly reaching down, his feathers inching towards the holstered revolver...

Tap wouldn’t shoot. Scroll didn’t think so, not with him as Eagle’s pony shield. But Tap didn’t have a pony shield of her own.

And with what strength he had left, he began to struggle.

“Settle down, there, you—” Eagle started.

But Scroll got the bearing he needed; he jumped. All Eagle could do was able to yell as they crashed through the glass window, too surprised to do anything else as they plummeted two stories down to the ground.

Scroll opened his eyes and saw snow all around them. He had been relatively lucky—Eagle had broken his fall.

Eagle, however, whined in pain.

“Ah! Ah!” he cried. Scroll scampered off of him and Eagle rolled over onto his sides—his wings had contorted into shapes that Scroll, even as an earth pony, winced to look at, and shards of glass from the window had embedded themselves in his back. “I... I...” he choked, unable to string a coherent sentence through the gasps of pain, until his voice broke under the strain and his scream filled Scroll's ears, high and warbling like a foal’s.

“Scroll!” called Tap. Scroll looked up and saw her peering out the window. “Are you alright?

“Yeah,” said Scroll, nodding.

“What were you [i]doing[/i]?” asked Tap. “Gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“He was pulling a gun!”

“Shit...”

The gunshots around them were growing less numerous by the second. The battle, it seemed, was in its tail-end, as the pegasi retreated up to the grey clouds above them.

“What did they [i]do[/i]?” asked Tap, looking over the whitened town.

“They made a blizzard...” said Scroll. “Guess they didn’t have the ponypower to do that [i]and[/i] a tornado...”

Scroll looked back down at Eagle and saw him. He had gritted his teeth and his screams had dwindled into little high-pitched whining sounds. His eyes clamped shut as he weakly and feebly thrashed in the snow. Scroll saw Eagle, broken and impotent as a dying animal, and couldn't find it in himself to feel hate, or vengeance, or even anger. There was nothing to feel but pity. And as he felt the numbing cold of the white ground beneath them both, there was only one thing Scroll could think to say:

"I think I should make some cocoa."

---

Chapter 31

Clip was taking the opportunity to slide down the hall on sponge-skates.

“Wheeeee!” he cried as he slipped past the other foals. “This is fun!”

The unicorns on the fortress used their foal prisoners for a number of menial tasks. While they were too unreliable to do work on the assembly line, they could be called upon for tasks that were either simple enough for them to accomplish, or ones that required their small stature. In this case, a number of the foals were set to scrubbing the floors.

The hollow, stone hallways were large, dimly-lit, and cold. Holes had been cut up-top, near the ceiling, likely as a means of ventilation. All around this part of the fortress it was uninviting, solemn, and joyless.

And in spite of everything, Clip was having a great time.

The other foals looked at him, dumbfounded, sitting next to their wet rags and buckets of soapy water.

Clip’s fun, however, was soon cut short. Something rough shoved him and he slid off to the side, bumping against a wall. He stumbled a little and looked up.

There was the overseer. He wasn’t much to look at, a tall, gangly thin unicorn with tiny glasses. Clip didn’t like looking at him—his small nose was always wrinkled, his mouth drawn back into a sort of disgusted sneer. By his side floated a rod, which he waved around threateningly.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Immediately, Clip started rubbing one of the sponges on his hooves over the floor in front of him. “Cleanin’,” he said. The rod touched his chin, forcing him to look up into the overseer’s face.

“That should be all you’re doing. Understand?”

Clip struggled a nod against the rod.

“Good,” said the overseer, and walked away.

Clip glared at him and, when his back was turned, stuck out his tongue. He didn’t like him.

The foals weren’t always scrubbing the floors. Sometimes they were clearing the sewers, or dusting out the vents, or maintaining the massive machines that ran in the fortress. What these machines did, Clip had no idea, but they were loud and ugly and they made his lungs hurt and he hated them.

___________

White, on the other hoof, was not having the same kind of good time as Clip. Or any kind of good time, really. In all honesty, he kinda felt like shit.

 

“You okay there, White?” asked Shine as they washed up in the bathroom.

 

White looked ahead of him into the mirror. His mane had grown long and scraggly, and there were little black bags under his eyes. Earlier in the mission he had considered if the long-maned look was right for him. Now he didn’t care.

He closed his eyes and took a long sniff through his nose. “Iiiii did not get a lot of sleep last night.”

“Something wrong?”

White turned his head slightly, looking at him through one eye. “You ever have one of those times you wake up in the middle of the night and you really, really need to use the bathroom?”

“Uhh… kind of?”

“Well,” said White, looking back at the mirror. “That happened last night. I dunno how late it was. Must’ve been somewhere really, really early in the morning, but I try to sleep it off and I just can’t get to sleep, and I have to go and I have to go. So I get up, and I head to the bathroom. But it’s dark and the lights are out. And I lost my candle. So I’m in the bathroom and the lights are out and it’s pitch black. I can’t see a thing, so I’m just feeling around, trying to find the toilet. But I can’t find it.”

“So…” Shine narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“I’m still a little fuzzy,” said White, “but I think I peed in the sink.”

Shine just stared at him for what must have been ten or twenty seconds. Then, his horn glowed a little, and water began to pour from the faucet.

“That, and I’m just… stressed,” said White. “I feel like there’s nothing working.”

 

“Been there,” said Shine, “you know, I think you’ve got tunnel vision.”

“Hm,” White mumbled. He looked up in the mirror. Shine wasn’t even looking at him, more occupied with shaking out his mane.

“Anyway, see ya later,” said Shine.

“Wait…”

Shine stopped and turned around. His eyebrows raised and his mouth curled back, he pawed jerkily at the floor. “Yes?”

“Look, I get that you don’t want to help me and risk yourself for whatever dumb thing I’m going to do,” said White. He didn’t look him in the face. He just stood facing the mirror, his eyes downcast. “But maybe if you… if the general says anything… tell me.”

“What…”

“Please, Shine, just help me with this,” said White. “It isn’t much.”

Shine stood there, looking at White. White watched him in the mirror, trying to read his face. After a moment, however, Shine sighed. “Okay, fine,” he said. “I’ll try.” White’s face instantly lit up in a bright, beaming smile, so abruptly that Shine drew back in startled shock. “No promises!” he said. “But… okay. I’ll try, if I can.”

“Try to find out about Clip,” said White. “I’ve been asking about where they keep the foals, but they keep avoiding my question. You don’t think they…”

Shine’s face paled. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “These guys are screwed up, but… they wouldn’t just… they wouldn’t just take children and… No.” He walked off, his face a little more disturbed than before.

White stayed behind and washed up in the sink before. He was starting to hate these bathrooms.

___________

White had taken to taking notes, as part of his scheme. He had the starting point down, that is, the basic idea of writing down the details one thinks are important. Unfortunately, he wasn’t completely sure where to go from there.

He knew that the various earth ponies were doing work in different areas, presumably working on smaller parts of a larger project.

White didn’t have much to go on from there, but he had a guess –[em dash] whatever it was the unicorns were working on, they didn’t want the earth ponies to know the whole thing.

What’s more, he needed to find Clip. Duster had said that the unicorns had the kids off somewhere else. If he found the kids, he thought, maybe he’d find Clip.

“Hey, you gonna be in there all day?” called Aq’s voice from outside.

“Sorry!” called White, emerging from the bathroom. “I just, well…” he looked back at the bathroom. He had known dirty bathrooms and he had known clean bathrooms (to his chagrin the mares tended to have cleaner bathrooms than the stallions). At yet, the bathrooms here, with their gilded faucets and marble urinals, seemed to be trying so very hard to impress him. “I had to go, y’know?”

“I hear ya,” said Aq.

“So, I want to know where the kids are,” said White.

“Oh, this again,” said Aq.

“Aq,” said White, “I get that Monarch is trying to obfuck… obfutu… prevent me from doing my work properly, but that isn’t going to happen.”

“Oh, for the love of,” said Aq, “why do you care?”

White looked at him. “I can’t explain it. Hopefully you’ll understand it someday. Hm.” He thought on it. “Maybe Scroll could explain it. I think he said it’s called ‘empathy.’”

Aq rolled his eyes. “Monarch wants to see you tonight.”

“Oh boy,” said White. “It’s funny—every time I went to see General Quake he told me to fudge off and… do things with my horn. Things that I don’t think are safe or actually possible. General Monarch can’t get enough of me. I wonder how General Storm would…” He blinked. “Actually, no, I know. She hit me in the head.”

“‘Fudge’?” Aq asked, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

“I don’t like to use that kind of language,” said White. “It sets a bad example. Now anyway, back to work.”

___________

With a moratorium on sponge-skating, the task of cleaning went much, much slower. By the time they were finished, and Clip had no idea what time that was, he was worn-out and restless.

As the foals filed down the hallway, he looked around. Despite the crowd of foals, others kept their distance. Clip might not have had wings, but the scars on his back said everything.

They piled into their quarters, stacked wide with bunk beds. As soon as they got in, Clip jumped to the nearest top bunk he could get to. He had to claim it before somepony else did. No matter what happened, if he could just get to the highest point, he knew he would be alright.

He looked down at their overseer. It was the same gangly, thin unicorn from before. A rod floated by his side as he looked over the foals distastefully. Clip thought about him as he tried to fall asleep. He didn’t like him.

“Alright!” the unicorn snarled. “Everyone to sleep!”

“I’m hungry…” Clip mumbled.

The overseer gave one last look at them all before turning and walking out of the room. The foals murmured to themselves as the lights went off of their own accord, most of them eager to get to sleep in a bed after the mind-numbing work.

Clip couldn’t sleep very well. He heard the same sound he’d heard every night, some massive thing, rumbling… tumbling… mumbling… He sat up, sighing and brushing his face with a spare hoof. He just couldn’t get to sleep. That noise wouldn’t stop.

And so, he decided that if he couldn’t sleep, he wouldn’t sleep. And with nary a second thought, he jumped down from his bunk.

All the other foals were asleep. Nopony would hear him. Quietly, he tip-hoofed over to the door. It was a giant metal thing with a latch instead of a knob. He got up onto his hind legs and reached for it, but it was too high. Bracing himself, he took a step back, ran, and leapt up. He soared through the air and hit his target on the handle with a thud against the door. He wrapped his hooves around the handle, hanging from it.

It wouldn’t open. It was locked. Feebly, Clip wiggled, trying to loosen it, but to no avail. Then, he stopped; he could hear hoofsteps. He froze in fear as the hoofsteps got louder. Then, the handle beneath him turned. He hastily reached a hoof around, desperate to keep hold. He slid down the door, hanging on for dear life, as it slowly opened.

He didn’t even breathe, and he silently prayed that his heart was shut up, or else the other pony might hear him.

A figure entered the room, peering into it. “Hmm…” he said. Clip recognized it as the overseer. The unicorn crossed into the room, letting the door swing wide. Clip clenched his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t get slammed against the back wall.

His back nudged against the wall, and Clip had to fight not to let out an “oof.” Carefully, he slid down between the door and the wall to the floor, and peeked out. The unicorn overseer stepped further into the room, peering over the beds of sleeping and stirring foals.

Soon enough, he turned around and headed back out the doorway. Clip quickly darted behind him, doing his best to keep out of his vision. Clip crept behind him as the overseer turned to lock the door.

“Hmm…” the overseer mumbled. “Could’ve sworn I heard something…”

The hallway was very dimly lit, and Clip ducked into a corner as the overseer continued down the hall. Thankfully, his hesitancy to breathe had caused his face to turn blue, aiding him in blending into the shadows.

After the overseer turned the corner and vanished, Clip let out a gasp for breath. Timidly, he tip-hoofed forward. Light on his hooves, he made almost no sound against the stone floors.

He had a plan in mind. Get out of here with Carpenter and White and some other ponies too. Get back to the island and make a family with Scroll and Tap and Barrel. And then the whole family could go make a home in Equestria…

Well, that was more of a goal than a plan. He’d need to think of the parts in-between. He wished Scroll were there. Scroll was good at ideas, like that water machine thing.

Creeping down the hall, he looked up at the vents on the wall. If he could find a way up, he might be able to get out and get somewhere else in the fortress. At least, he hoped so.

He could hear hoofsteps coming down from one end of the hall. Not thinking, he burst off down the other end, somewhere he didn’t know.

He could hear the hoofsteps gaining on him, following the same direction he was going. He jumped through an open door and found himself at a dead end. Nothing but a storage room of some kind, filled with boxes and barrels and, funnily enough, bags. He froze, but upon hearing the hoofsteps behind him, he had to act.

“…I really just want a new job,” said the overseer, trundling into the storage room. “Anything else, I don’t care. Just so long as I’m not near the fucking foals.”

“Well, good luck on that,” said another unicorn. Clip’s ears perked up; something seemed oddly familiar about his voice in a way he didn’t like. “I’ve got a similar foalsitting job.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Monarch’s had me play guard duty for that missionary from the island. He’s a fruity bastard.”

“How fruity?” asked the overseer, accompanied by a squeaking sound. Clip figured he must have sat down on something.

“He sings in the shower,” said the other unicorn. “And he’s actually good at it.”

“Oh,” said the overseer. “Dang.”

“Yeah,” said the other unicorn. “He’s also been fussy about his mane until this week. I think he’s slowing down a little. But he won’t stop asking me about that fucking foal.”

“Foal?”

“Yeah, he keeps asking about some foal he’s looking for. Named Clip. Says soldiers foalnapped him.”

Clip’s ears perked up. So White was here and looking for him. Everything was going to be great!

“What’s he look like?” asked the Overseer.

“He’s pink and he’s got big scars on his back where they cut his wings off,” he said. “I think it’s the same kid I grabbed off the island. Can you believe it? If a pegasus kid washes up on the island, they cut his wings off.” That told Clip who it was. It was Aq.

“Fucking savages, I tell ya,” said the overseer. “I think I’ve seen the colt. Want me to find him and bring him to ya?”

“No, that’s the thing,” said Aq. “Monarch’s given me instructions: he does not want White to find that colt.”

“Weird,” said the overseer. “Well…” He made a grunt, as though stretching. “Not gonna question the good general’s orders.”

Clip looked around the box he had hidden in. There were many boxes like it in the room, but this one was his. And it was full of potatoes. Thankfully, out of sight. Unthankfully, he had nowhere to go from there. All he could do was sit and listen, nestled amongst the potatoes.

“So who’re betting on at the game tomorrow?” asked the overseer.

“I don’t bet,” said Aq. “It’s not my thing.”

“Suit yourself,” said the overseer. “Just don’t ask for any of my winnings.”

Clip looked around. He needed to get out of here. He didn’t know what, though. He turned around and looked up the wall, hoping to find some way out. To his delight, he found a vent up above. All he had to do was wait and—

He found himself lifted out of the box and into the air.

“What have we here?” asked the overseer. “We were just talking about you.”

“Funny thing there,” said Aq.

The overseer turned him around to face him. Clip smiled nervously. “Eheh…” said Clip. “Well, now that you’ve found me, you can take me to White… right? Please?”

The overseer turned to Aq. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “I think we should deal with this a bit more permanently.”

“Yeah,” said Aq. “I remember White said something about how the pegasi just dropped him into the ocean.”

“Hmm…” said the overseer, smirking.

Clip bit his lip. “Oh.”

The Overseer smirked at him, and Clip could think of only one thing he wanted to do to that smug, slimy face in front of him.

He punched it. The overseer let out a yelp and dropped him, and Clip did the only thing he could do. He ran. He ran right out the door and down the hall, both of the unicorns screaming and chasing after him.

___________

White managed to make himself presentable enough, with his mane neatly combed. Of course, White was rarely not presentable. He was able to clear through his funk enough to be curious about Monarch’s request… whatever it was. He’d find out soon enough.

The guards graciously opened the wide double doors in the hall—White would never not be reminded of the trip he took to Canterlot castle on a field trip once. Except Canterlot castle had more stained glass windows and less inadequate slits in the wall. Perhaps they had it that way so nopony would notice if the red carpet was dirty.

“Ah, Brother White,” said General Monarch. “Glad you could make it.” He was standing by the window, looking outside, smug as always. “So, how are you?”

“I’m okay,” said White. “What are you doing with the workers?”

“Making them work, of course,” said Monarch. “I like to think it’s a way we can happily coexist.”

“I figured you’d say something like that,” said White, unimpressed. “So what’d you want me for?”

“I thought you could use some time off,” said Monarch. “Follow me,” he said, leading him through a set of doors. “I must say, Brother White, you really aren’t looking well.”

“Oh, darn,” said White. “Well, I’ll freshen up when I get home.”

“It really doesn’t suit you,” said Monarch. “But I think I have the solution. I’d like you to meet someone…”

They emerged from the side of the doorway and were greeted by a unicorn mare—her coat was the same shade of purple as Monarch’s, and she dressed in a frilly gown and silver tiara. She tossed her mane and smiled at them.

“Hello!” she said.

White took a step back, a little alarmed.

“Brother White, I’d like you to meet my daughter Princess,” said Monarch.

“Oh!” said White. “I didn’t know you had…” He looked back at her. “Hi. My name is Brother White.”

“Princess here is having a slumber party,” explained Monarch, “and she’s inviting you.”

“Oh, thank you,” said White. “I’m… heh,” he smiled, “I’m sorry, I’m a little out of it lately.”

“Nopony can be fair weather all the time,” said Princess. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Right,” said White, nodding. “So, you said slumber party?”

___________

“How do you like my bedroom?”

White blinked. “It’s…” It was gaudy. Full of reds, pinks, purples and all kinds of cloth and lace. To its credit, it was one of the most earnest displays of color he’d seen in the castle.

“It’s colorful,” White concluded.

“I thought so,” said Princess, smiling self-satisfiedly at the drapery. She looked around and snorted. “Oh, where are my hoofmaidens?”

“You have hoofmaidens?” asked White.

Princess looked at him agape. “Of course I have hoofmaidens! I am a princess, after all! How could I not?”

There came a knock on the door.

“Oh, at last!” said Princess. “Come iiiin~”

White blinked as the door open and in walked two mares. They were both similar in appearance, tall and indistinguishable apart from the fact that one of them was pink and the other was teal.

Princess walked over to greet her. She kept her legs very straight and seemed to place her hooves down harder than most, which was especially noticeable on the stone floors.

“Glad you could make it!” she said.

“We wouldn’t dream of missing it,” the hoofmaidens droned in unison.

“This is Brother White,” said Princess, lifting a hoof and gesturing to White with an air of pompous grandeur. “He’s my guest.”

“Hello, Brother White,” said the hoofmaidens.

“Uh… hi,” said White.

“Brother White here is an Equestrian,” Princess explained, tossing back the curls in her mane. “So he knows all about slumber parties. Don’t you?”

“Um… Yes,” said White, nodding. “In fact, I have a really good book you can read that talks a bit more about—”

“Wonderful,” said Princess, “you can make sure we’re on track. The first thing… braiding manes!”

“That’s one thing…”

The four of them arranged themselves in a circle. White braided one of the hoofmaiden’s manes, that hoofmaiden braided her sister’s mane—at least White assumed it was her sister. In all honesty they kind of creeped him out a little—and that hoofmaiden braided Princess’s mane, who in turn worked on White.

“Father says Equestria has a castle like this one,” said Princess, “but it doesn’t fly.”

“Well, it doesn’t fly, no…” said White. “I haven’t been to Canterlot Castle that much. Maybe three times?”

“It sounds splendid. I think I’d like to see it.”

“Oh, you would,” said White. “You really, really would. It, uh…” He paused for a fraction of a second, dropping the hoofmaiden’s mane an inch or two as his mind sagged. “It’d suit you,” he said, catching himself and resuming with braiding the hoofmaiden’s mane.

“You think so?” asked Princess. White could only imagine what the expression on her face was. “Father thinks so.”

White paused for a moment. “He does,” he said. “Do you talk about that a lot?”

“Sometimes,” said Princess. “We don’t talk about a whole lot. He’s very busy running the fortress. A pony can only do so much in a day,” she said with a vague gesture of her hoof. [He’s in charge of a lot of things, so he doesn’t have a lot of time for other things.”]

“Not enough time for his daughter?” he asked.

Princess was silent for a few seconds. White felt his own mane go slack a little. “You have a very nice mane,” she said after a while.

“You think so?” asked White, smiling a little. “I haven’t really been able to keep good care of it. Been sort of letting it go since the mission started. I…” His smile faltered and he looked down.

“Is something wrong?” asked Princess. “Are you all right?”

“I guess,” said White. “I just… the mission. It’s not really going well, honestly. Can’t say it’s going well when you’re split off from your partner.”

“Well, from what father says it was probably a lost cause, all those earth ponies. I heard they sleep in the dirt.”

At this White turned around. “That’s what you’ve heard?” he asked. “Have you ever met an earth pony?”

Princess sat back a little. “Once. About a year ago some of them from the island managed to break up into the castle. I saw them then. They… they found me. I don’t know what would have happened if our soldiers hadn’t gotten in. The look they had at me, they…” Her voice faltered. “They hated me. They absolutely hated me and I knew, just knew they wanted to hurt me…”

White relented, drew away. “Your father…” he said. Princess looked up. “He’s done a lot of bad things.”

 

“He saved you, though,” said Princess. “He told me he’d always look out for a fellow unicorn.”

“Well,” said White, tossing his mane—a braided strand landed over his shoulder, “I have better friends. Earth pony friends,” he emphasized. “You know, there are a lot of earth ponies here.

Your father has them working as slaves.”

“Good,” said Princess. “Maybe with them being useful and working towards something productive will help—”

“Do you know why those earth pony soldiers hated you?” asked White sharply. “Why they wanted to hurt you? It’s because they’ve had it drilled into them that unicorns are their enemies. And it doesn’t help when Monarch decides to attack them for, for…” He stopped. “Why does he attack them?” he asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. The pegasi attack them for food, but you…”

“That…” Princess said, her eyes shifting. “That’s not something I know a lot about. That’s up to my father and the soldiers.”

“Right…” said White. He looked at the hoofmaidens, who were still braiding away. “You have anything to say about this?”

“Not really,” said the pink hoofmaiden.

“I try to stay out of politics,” said the teal one.

“Fair enough…” mumbled White.

“I have a better idea,” said Princess, resuming her ceremonial air. “Why don’t we play a game? Truth or dare! All in favor?”

“Aye,” intoned the hoofmaidens.

“Okay, seriously,” said White, “you two are, like—”

“I’ll go first,” said Princess. “Oh, and I have something else to make it a little more interesting.” Her horn glowed, and a small sack floated up between them. Then, something inside the sack moved, and then emerged a small, flat, clear crystal. “This is something called an Honesty Stone. Whatever we say here we’ll be held to. If somepony dares you, it will hold you do it. And if you tell a lie, well, it will know. So…” She smiled at White. “I pick Dare.”

White narrowed his eyes at her. “Alright,” he said. “I dare you to…” He paused. “Go down to the earth pony workshops. See what your father has them doing. Maybe even talk to one of them. Make a friend.”

Princess’s calm, cool expression vanished as the stone hovered in front of her, glowing softly. “Well…” she said. “I guess if you dare me, I’ll have to do it.”

“It doesn’t have to be today,” said White. “But you have to do it.”

“Very well,” said Princess. “Now…” Her smile returned, and the stone floated over to White. “It’s your turn.”

White took the stone in his own magic, and looked at the three of them. “Alright. Since you started with a dare, I’ll pick Truth.”

Princess smiled. “Tell me truthfully, then, Brother White.” She narrowed her eyes. “Do you hate anyone?”

White tilted his head at her and sputtered. “What?” he laughed nervously. “That’s, come one, that’s silly. I don’t hate anyone. I—” His eyes went wide. The stone was glowing a bright red, and hissing. “What’s happening? What is this?”

“You lied,” said one of the hoofmaidens.

“No,” said White, as the stone began to emit a high-pitched siren. “That’s wrong! This stone’s broken!”

“The stone isn’t broken, White,” said Princess. “You lied.”

“No!” spat White. “I don’t hate anyone. I can’t hate anyone, I don’t!” But the more he protested, the louder the stone got, until ti seemed that it was screaming louder than White was. “I don’t, I swear! It’s just a stupid rock! The stone is wrong. The stone is wrong!”

The rock flew to the other side of the room, hitting the wall with a clank before falling to the ground, silent and back to its clear color.

“It’s just a stupid rock…” said White, panting. “I… no, I can’t. I can’t.”

And Princess looked, for a moment, as though she regretted what she had just done.

___________

Brother Shine stepped onto his balcony. He didn’t know why—he didn’t like being outside. Then again, he didn’t really like being inside, either. He didn’t really like anything. He didn’t like the look of the star-filled sky or the view over the ocean, devoid of clouds or warmth. He didn’t even like the air. Up here he’d think that it should be clean and clear, but it was dirty and dusty, no doubt owing to the things they had churning in the belly of the fortress.

He saw a door across the way open up. He saw something rush out, but it was hard to make out in the dark of the night. Narrowing his eyes, he thought he saw something… a pink colt. The colt rushed out the door and looked down at what seemed to be a tumble off a dead end. Shine watched as two more figures emerged from the door, one of them a guard, the other… he couldn’t make him out, as he was behind the guard. The colt turned around. The guard’s horn glowed, and the colt tumbled back over the edge and disappeared. The two unicorns walked to the edge, looked down, and seemed to laugh, before turning and walking back through the doorway.

Shine balked and stepped backwards. He wanted to scream out, but something stopped him. Instead he clenched up slammed his hoof into the ground.

“Something wrong, Shine?” asked a voice behind him. Shine froze. “Is the scenery not to your liking?”

Shine slowly turned around and saw General Monarch standing there, unctuous as always. “Honestly?” asked Shine. “Not completely…”

“Dear, dear, dear…” said Monarch, walking past Shine to look at where the unicorns and the colt had been. “It seems the guards have been taking some liberties with the workers. No real matter, though.” He smirked. Shine didn’t say anything. “I’ll just have to explain to them that our resources are not always expendable.”

“You’re sick,” Shine whispered. “You’re sick, evil, twisted—”

“Yes,” said Monarch, putting a hoof on Shine’s shoulder, “do feel free to say everything. It’ll be much more satisfying than burying it all and trying to let it out in little passive-aggressive nudges. In all honesty…” He lowered his head to Shine’s ear. “I find it rather refreshing. White’s a bit too polite to tell me exactly what he thinks, though anyone can tell. Ponies like him who wear their hearts on their hooves, always so easy to read. You can read White yourself, can’t you? He’s just getting so worn down. And I must commend you on being such a great friend to him.”

Shine didn’t dare pull away. He just fought off a shudder and stood there.

“Oh, come now,” said Monarch, “not going to continue what you’re saying?”

“W-why do you have us here?” asked Shine, shaking. “We aren’t doing anything. There’s no point to any of this.”

“You needed to get away from General Quake,” explained Monarch. “So I generously offered you a safe haven, in return for your understanding that, heh…” He drew away. Shine turned and saw the smirk. “Nothing you do will amount to anything. And soon White will understand that, as well. Do you understand what the fortress is, Brother Shine? It’s a machine. And you can’t stop a machine with sheer good will.”

Shine looked up at him. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Monarch laughed. “Because I want you to know exactly where you stand. I’ll bet you’re planning on just telling Brother White everything, aren’t you?” The horn on his head lit up in a dark purple glow. Shine flinched back, feeling a piercing pain in his head.

“Argh!” Shine cried, falling to his knees.

“Kneeling suits you,” Monarch observed. “Even if I were to tell you every secret I have, that little spell would render you mute, should you try to tell White about it.”

“You… you…”

“I!” Monarch put a hoof to Shine’s chin, forcing him to look up into his face. “Am General Monarch. And do you know what one of the best things about being a monarch is?” His horn lit up again, lifting Shine into the air. “I can do anything I like. And I can be assured that everypony works for me. Including you. Including White.” He dropped Shine to the floor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.” And with that, he turned and walked away.

Shine didn’t watch him as he drew away. He just waited until he heard the door shut behind him.

___________

Shine kept his head lowered at his desk. Occasionally he looked up at the door, which stood there. Still. Unmoving. Probably taunting him, but Shine wasn’t sure what the joke was.

The unicorns thought they’d have him as a sort of buffer between themselves and the earth ponies. If an earth pony needed to voice a concern with someone, they came to him. Shine would try to talk it out with them and say he’d look into how he could help fix the problem. He couldn’t, of course—he had no actual authority. Or if he did, the other unicorns wouldn’t be happy with him “exercising” it, and he’d never thought to risk it.

But few ponies came. Many of them knew him from the island, and there was a mutual dislike. They thought he was an asshole. He thought they were assholes. It all worked out fine. Except now he wasn’t feeling so assured in that understanding.

He watched the door. Hours went by, and nopony came. More hours, no ponies. Maybe the number of hours is inversely proportional to the number of ponies, thought Shine. No, wait… that doesn’t make any sense. His head fell onto the desk and he let out a groan.

More hours, and still no ponies. Then, after all that time and nothing happened, a bell rang, signalling his time was up. He was thankful that now he’d have a chance to be bored and useless somewhere else. Grumbling, he got up from the desk and went out the door behind him.

Somehow, upon entering the hallway, he immediately felt better, though not by much. The hallway was wider and it had better lighting, and Shine swore it must have been ventilated better, too.

He passed a few other unicorns in the hallways. None of them minded him. They all had their own circles, and he was part of nopony’s circle. The outsider. Don’t walk too close to him, he’s been around the dirts, thought Shine mockingly, and he probably smells bad.

He looked ahead and saw a few of the guards, laughing loudly about something he was sure he wouldn’t find funny if he knew what it was. His eyes focused on Aq, smiling as smugly as ever. Shine remembered the night before as he passed them. They walked on, oblivious to his presence. Shine stopped at the end of the hallway and glared at them, and just before they turned the corner…

“So how much do you like murdering children?”

Aq stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around. The other soldiers were a little slower to catch on, but they followed suit. Aq peered down the hallway at him and took a few steps forward. “Come again?” he asked. “I don’t think I got that.”

Shine instantly found he had doubts about what he had just said. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Nothing, then?” asked Aq. “Thought so.” He turned to go again.

“How much do you enjoy murdering children?” repeated Shine.

Aq turned around and approached him. Shine looked at him with a feeling of abject loathing, wishing nothing more than to hit him right in that smug smirk. “I don’t think that’s a very polite question to ask, missionary,” whispered Aq. “Isn’t that in your book somewhere, missionary? A guest needs to be polite to his hosts?”

Shine spat right into Aq’s face. Aq responded by lighting up his horn and rapidly raising a fist to Shine’s face. Shine stepped back, flinching.

“You think you can get to me?” asked Aq. His horn lit up, lifting Shine off the ground and slamming him into the wall behind him. Aq wiped the spit from his face and walked up to Shine, pressing magic into his chest. Shine choked, trying to breathe. “I could toss you off the castle just the same,” he said quietly. “Just remember that, missionary.”

Aq stepped away, and his magic turned off. Shine fell from the wall and collapsed into a gasping heap, his chest heaving as he breathed. Aqturned and went back to his friends, leaving Shine on the floor at the end of the hall. After the soldiers turned and left, Shine slowly got to his feet turned in the other direction.

He found White in his room, slouched over the mahogany desk. White lurched up in his seat at the sound of the door opening. For a moment, Shine forgot what he was going to say—White really wasn’t looking good.

“What is it?” White asked. “Is something wrong?”

Shine didn’t answer immediately. “Sheesh, you look like you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.”

“No…” said White. “Slumber parties… it didn’t have a whole lot of slumbering. Or maybe it did, I don’t know. I had to retire earlier. It was a distraction from my work and I…” He blinked. “I have no idea what I’m doing, Shine.” He turned to the desk. “I wish Scroll were here… I… I need him.” He looked down at the desk. “Without him I don’t know what to do.”

Shine approached him slowly and put a hoof on White’s shoulder.

“Well, you know how you asked me for help yesterday and I said no?” asked Shine. White looked up at him. His eyes were wide and almost at tears. “I changed my mind. Let’s bring these bastards down.”

___________

What Shine had no way of knowing, however, was that the little pink colt had not, in fact, perished from falling. Quick-hooved as ever, Clip managed to grab onto the side of the fortress.

“Jerks!” he muttered.

Hefting himself across the jagged, rocky face, he managed to secure himself. He found the sides of the fortress were dotted with holes, and he slipped into one of them. He could feel the air moving, and kept a firm hold wherever he could, as though afraid it’d blow right out. These must be vents or something, he thought.

He crawled onwards, not having any clue where he was going. Still, he felt better than he had before; nopony would be coming after him with work or telling him what to do. That was definitely a plus. He climbed up and up through the tunnel.

Clip knew what he had to do: he had to find Brother White. White would know what to do. And they’d escape together. Ooh! Maybe they could save all the foals and the other prisoners, too! That’d make the rest of the ponies on Earthquake Island love him! Then they’d all join the Fraternity and their mission would be a success, and they could all go home to Equestria and Scroll and White could get married and adopt him! It was all going to be perfect! Just as soon as he could find him…

But for now, he needed to sleep.

When he woke up, he looked around, remembered where he was, and decided that he needed a map, so he made a mental note as he was climbing to somehow find a piece of paper and some crayons. He’d also need breakfast.

More tunnels branched off to the sides. He would need a lot of crayons. He went down one of the vents, and his face lit up upon seeing what appeared to be an exit. However, caution set in as he heard a voice.

“So, how did it go?” asked the first one, a stallion’s.

“Well, I asked the question you told me,” said another voice, a mare’s.

Clip creeped forward and peeked just enough so he could see: two unicorns, both the same shade of purple. One of them he instantly recognized as General Monarch.

“He didn’t take it well,” she continued. “He got very upset. Why was that?”

Monarch smirked. “Princess, many ponies look at themselves a certain way. Ponies like Brother White especially have very special self-images. It defines them. And if you can take that self-image and take it away… reveal a certain amount of self-deception, well… some ponies just can’t handle it.”

“It seems he couldn’t,” concluded Princess. She looked away from him just slightly, her eyes flitting to the side. Clip backed up, hoping her wandering eyes wouldn’t spot him in the vent.

He decided that this was not the way to exit. And he didn’t know exactly what he was hearing, but he knew it was about White, and it wasn’t good.

He scurried off down the tunnels, figuring his chances were much lower if he popped out the end with the evil general. He’d have to find another way out. And a map. Or he’d make a map—Paper and crayons, he reminded himself.

He went down the vents more or less at random, wondering if he shouldn’t have done something else. Maybe he should’ve taken a ball of yarn to map out a trail or something. If the alternative hadn’t been certain death by falling into the ocean, Clip might have thought this had been a bad idea. However, while he was considering ideas, he didn’t pay attention, and slipped down one of the chutes. Too startled to let out a cry, he fell out of a hole in the wall and crashed into a box, knocking it over. By the time he looked up, the box was on top of him, and everything was dark save for a hole where light streamed in.

“What was that?” called a voice. Clip stayed silent and listened to the sound of hoofsteps. “Someone in there?”

No, thought Clip, nopony in here. Go away, please.

The other pony seemed to oblige, because he could hear the pony walking away. And then, Clip got another idea.

___________

There are differences between working for yourself and working for others. Carpenter came to realize these differences, and how much he preferred working for himself. At his old shop on the island he carved out his own indispensable niche, built what he wanted, supported himself and his son, and his wife while she lived.

Perhaps part of the problem was that instead of his own personal carpentry work, he was another interchangeable cog in the unicorn assembly line, working with metal rather than wood, constructing he didn’t know what. It was only his concern for Buzz that kept him from doing something stupid to get himself killed.

He had heard talk that there was an area on the castle where they were working with wood. The unicorn that had spoken to him on his arrival had said there would be room for him, but that turned out to be a load of shit.

A unicorn was full of shit. Carpenter’s world had never been so shaken.

Rather than working with wood, Carpenter instead had to pull a lever to fasten bolts to a piece of metal. It was monotonous, and the lever called for just enough force for it to be inconvenient, as well. Soon, he fell into a dull rhythm, pulling the lever every time the assembly line brought down the next bit of metal. Every so often, a unicorn guard or overseer would pass by and look over his shoulder.

And it just so happened that today he was working right next to Duster. He had known Duster, briefly, years ago on the island before Duster had been captured. Not in any close capacity, but their mutual imprisonment on the fortress had given them a sort of base to work from, and they seemed to get along well enough.

“So I met with the new unicorn behind the desk,” said Duster.

“Yeah?” asked Carpenter, pulling his lever again. “He any different?”

“I dunno,” said Duster. “He seems to pretend he cares more. Kind of odd…”

Carpenter raised an eyebrow. He was at this point barely paying attention to his work, just enough to pull the lever. After a few weeks here it had become routine, mechanical, and automatic. That was another thing he preferred about his real job: carpentry took attention and dedication. Had he been a sentimental type, he might have even said it took love. “Odd?” he asked with another pull. “Explain.”

“Asked me to get him information or something. Was talking about Monarch not wanting us to have the whole picture…” said Duster. “Somehow I don’t think he’s from around here.”

“He have a name?” asked Carpenter.

“Yeah,” said Duster. “Brother White. I think he’s involved with that Shine asshole.”

“Oh no…” said Carpenter.

“What?”

“No, no no no no no no…” Carpenter moaned. “Why does that prancing faggot follow me everywhere?” He shuddered. “I think he’s got a thing for me or something.”

“Huh?” asked Duster. “White?”

“No, Black,” said Carpenter. “Yes White. He was one of the new missionaries that came over when Shine and the shitwing got run off. Guess he found his way over here.” He groaned. “He’s going to be the death of me…”

“What did he do?” asked Duster.

“Sing songs, knock at my door too many times, and just being a huge fucking faggot.”

“Faggot?” asked Duster. “Huh… he did seem like a flamer,” he mused. He was quiet for a minute as the sounds of machinery droned around them. “Was he any good?”

“Huh?” asked Carpenter, his head snapping to the side.

“At singing,” said Duster. “Was he any good?”

Carpenter stared at him. “Why the fuck do you care? We’re stuck doing… this shit and you want to know if the horner’s good at singing?”

Duster shrugged. “Just wondering.”

Carpenter muttered to himself. “Well I guess.”

They continued their dull, monotonous work for as long as the horner overseers told them to. Carpenter couldn’t tell if they had worked for hours upon hours on end, or if it simply felt that way from the boredom. Eventually the bell rang, and they filed out of the factory.

Carpenter felt choked here, as though buried underground. He hadn’t been outside in the sun and air since his capture, and he had no idea where in the fortress he was. It all felt like an underground prison.

The unicorns corralled them to their living quarters, which he had to admit weren’t notably worse than what he was used to. The bedding was about the same, though there were no windows. It was dull and stuffy in the rooms, which had four to six stallions sleeping in bunks. As luck would have it, Carpenter’s room was empty for the time being. The unicorns, he heard, were not above executing ponies who were too much of a problem. He kept his head low and did what they asked him to do. Just enough, at least.

He sat down on his bed and sighed, and looked around. A broken table he’d fixed up. A rotted trunk. An upside-down cardboard box. A candleholder whose occupant was to its last inch. Wait, a cardboard box?

“Mister Carpenter!” said the box in a loud whisper.

Carpenter nearly jumped behind his bed, but after getting over how startled he was, he peered forward. “Clip?”

“I’m in a box!” said Clip. “Don’t tell anypony. I’m hiding.”

Carpenter, as though checking just to be sure, lifted the box and saw Clip sitting there.

“You snuck all the way over here?” asked Carpenter.

“Uh-huh,” said Clip. “Don’t tell anypony I’m here. They want to kill me. Anyway, you’re gonna have to start over on the boat.”

“The…” Carpenter blinked. “The boat?”

“Yeah,” said Clip. “We’re gonna take more ponies with us.”

“I…”

“It’s gonna need to be a biiiiig boat.” He made a wide gesture with his hooves.

“I haven’t exactly had a lot of wood lately,” said Carpenter. “I don’t see them growing any forests.”

“Oh…” said Clip, sinking slightly. “Well… have you seen White?”

Carpenter groaned. “He’s around,” he admitted. “I haven’t seen him, but I know a guy who’s seen him. He’s probably fine.”

Clip lifted his head up, smiling. “That’s great! I wanna see him.”

Great, then you’ll leave me alone, though Carpenter. “You just wait here. I can sign up to set an appointment.”

“Um,” said Clip, “you wouldn’t happen to have any food, would you? I haven’t had breakfast.”

“Um…” Carpenter looked around. There was a stale piece of bread on the table. “Sure, you can have this.” He tossed the piece of bread over to Clip, who caught it and immediately started gnawing on it. “You just stay in your box while I go take care of that.”

He left Clip to chew on the bread and exited through the door. There were some hallways and a small communal area, but it wasn’t very well-decorated—merely a table and not enough seats for it. On the wall was a dirty sheet of paper, with Missionary Appointments half-heartedly scrawled on it in loopy, uneven writing.

“Hey,” he said, looking around at a dour pony splayed on a rotten wooden seat, “Any of you guys got a pencil or a quill or something?”

The other pony just shrugged vacantly.

“Great,” he muttered. “Just great. Like I’m almost done with a chair and there’s not enough wood left. Cut the leg too short…” He paused. “My son made a three-legged stool, once,” he said to nopony in particular. “It wobbled.”

There was a ruffling sound as the other pony got up and shuffled out of the room. Carpenter looked at him as he left. “Well, fuck you, too,” he said. He stared at that sign-up sheet. Here he was, about to petition for an audience with one of his least-favorite ponies. Or he would if he could find a fucking pen.

___________

“Down here,” said Shine, leading White down a dark staircase.

“What—” began White.

“Monarch’s got ears everywhere,” said Shine. “If we’re gonna take ‘em apart, we’re going to do it down here, away from the glitz and the prying ears.”

“Eyes,” corrected White. “The saying is ‘prying eyes.’”

Shine stopped and looked back at him. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “We’re worried about ponies listening to us talking, not looking at us.”

“Yeah,” said White, “but I don’t think ears can ‘pry.’”

“Whatever,” said Shine, heading back down.

“Shine?” asked White. “What happened? You weren’t like this the other day.”

Shine stopped. He opened his mouth, ready to tell him about what Monarch had said. But as he tried, no sound came out.

“Shine?” White repeated, walking next to him.

Shine turned and looked at him, and then after a pause, tried to answer again. “My… my magic,” he said. His horn lit up and a small ball of light appeared at the end. It lit up both of their faces, but didn’t extend further. “I don’t have much in the way of magic. Just some lighting spells. Lots of ponies have them, but mine… well, they were supposed to be very good. They made ponies feel happy when they saw them. Now…”

White tilted his head. “Now what?”

“It’s gone,” said Shine. “I can’t conjure up more than… more than a flashlight. I miss it. And I want it back. I… I couldn’t take this mission. It broke me down.”

White took a breath. “I don’t think I’ve been better for the wear, myself,” he said, trying to give a comforting smile.

“The phrase is ‘worse for the wear,’” said Shine. “Wait, no…”

“Anyway,” said White, shaking his head and continuing downstairs. “What was it you found?”

Shine pushed past White, ducked into a small broom closet, and pulled him inside. His horn lit up, dimly illuminating the room. White stepped away from what was an almost threateningly-dirty mop. Shine put his ear to the door.

“Anypony listening?”

Shine paused. “No,” he said. He slowly drew back from the door. “We’re alone.”

“In the closet,” said White, nodding.

Shine stepped away from the door and revealed a few sheets of parchment. “So, what’ve we found out about whatever it is that Monarch has them working on?”

“I don’t know,” said White. “Some kind of framework or casing or—”

Shine unrolled the parchment. White looked at it and couldn’t make it out. Just looked like some round things. “Casings,” Shine explained. “Made to hold a large amount of a blasting agent.”

White looked up at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means bombs,” said Shine.

White sank. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Those. They’ve been dropping those on the island for a while.”

Shine’s expression drooped. “Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed. “So we haven’t found out anything new.”

“No…” said White. “But we can still work with this. We know what they’re doing. If we know what we’re doing we can… we can mess it up. Subvert it! That’s a word Scroll would like. I think. He’s never actually used it but it just sounds like something he’d like.”

“This Scroll sounds like someone very special.”

“Yeah,” said White. His mouth pulled back into a smile as he drifted into a sort of reverie. “His is. I… he means a lot to me. I hope he’s okay. I mean, they’re less likely to try and murder him, seeing as he’s an earth pony and all.” He looked at Shine. “Did they try to—”

“Yeah,” said Shine. “Quake decided he’d had enough of my ‘stupid fucking-ass face’ and tried to stomp my head in. Sky flew away first. Kind of obvious, really. When you have wings it’s easier to get away from the landlocked. He thought he had a chance—maybe he could minister to the pegasi and get them to stop their attacks.” He was silent for a moment. “That didn’t work.”

“I think Sky’s still okay,” said White. “At least… we saw him when the pegasi attacked a few months back. That’s about all we know. Storm talked about him being ‘useful’ or something…”

“Great,” said Shine. “That’s… that’s just great.” He shook his head. “Whatever, we have to deal with this floating hunk of rock first.”

“How do we do that?” asked White.

“Well, we know that they’re manufacturing bombs,” said Shine, “and we know that they’re using the earth pony labor to do it.”

“If the earth ponies knew exactly what they were making,” said White, “they wouldn’t be very happy with it. And if we can find out where the bombs are, maybe we could sabotage it.” His face lit up. “Ooh, sabotage! That’s another word Scroll would like!”

---

Chapter 32

The first sensation that Eagle had upon waking was the smell of wood filling his nostrils. His brain pounded in panic; wooden houses were the dwelling of the enemy earth ponies. He wasn’t safe there. He shot up in fright and then his brain exploded in pain.

“Ah!” he yelped, falling back down and hitting something soft. As his mind cleared and he was able to think past the pain, he realized he was lying on a bed. He looked up at the wooden ceiling above him, and at some curtains hanging around him. Calming down, he considered his first instincts to run away, but he realized that he couldn’t move his wings at all; they were bound to the side of his body.

“Oh!” said another voice. Eagle fell flat back onto the bed, reflexively pulling the covers over himself. At this point, he noticed something around his neck.

A head poked through the curtains. Eagle recognized it immediately—that blue-faced pussy. His broken glasses had been replaced by another, identical pair.

“Well, you’re awake,” said Scroll. “Had to drag you out here all the way through the snow.” He stepped through the curtains, revealing that he had a tray on his back. “I fixed you something to eat.”

Eagle stared at the food on his back. Oatmeal, a banana, an apple, and a hot steaming mug of… “What is that?” he asked.

“Hot cocoa,” said Scroll. “I mean, the town’s snowed in and all.” He set the tray down on a stand next to the bed. “Now you’ll have to excuse me,” he said. “I have to go.”

He stared at the curtains Scroll had exited through. Then he looked to the breakfast tray. Then he looked to the eating utensils…

He ripped the thing off of his neck, clasped the knife in his mouth, and pulled himself out of bed. His mind and his back were screaming for him to just lie there, but he had to get out of there quickly. He could handle pain, anyway. He’d been trained for that.

He stepped through the curtain and found himself in a large room. Tables were scattered around and there were a few shelves stacked with books. Scroll was by the door, about to leave, but he must have heard him, because he turned around in surprise.

“What are you doing?” Scroll asked.

“Getting out,” said Eagle, glaring and holding the knife menacingly.

Scroll just stared blankly at him, his eyes running him over. “No,” he said at length. “You’re not.”

Eagle clenched his teeth down on the knife. “Oh?” he asked. “You’re gonna stop me?”

“I don’t think I need to,” said Scroll. He straightened his glasses and looked him over, from head to hooftip. “Are you seriously threatening me? Right now? Look, let me explain a few things to you. One: your wings are broken. They need time to set and heal, meaning you aren’t going to be doing any flying any time soon. And they’re in a cast, and you can’t get them out without my help. Two: you’re an injured pegasus, I’m a healthy earth pony. If push comes to shove, I can easily overpower you in your current state. Three…” He looked at the open door. The light streamed in, too bright to see what lay beyond. “If you walk out that door, you are going to be up against every single pony on the island, and none of them will show you the same kindness I have. They will kill you if they get the chance, same as you would to them.”

Eagle took a step back. He thought this pony was supposed to be a complete pussy, but now… now he was scaring him.

“Four,” continued Scroll, “nopony is coming back for you. I’ve been here long enough to notice that General Storm doesn’t bother with prisoners. They won’t help you. Meaning…” He adjusted his glasses. “That I’m the only one who can help you. You go out that door and you’re completely on your own, and you won’t last.”

Eagle backed into a table, which spooked him into jumping.

“Oh,” said Scroll. “And five: that’s a plastic butter knife.”

Eagle dropped the knife and sat down in a chair.

“What’s your name again?” asked Scroll.

“Eagle.”

“Hello, Eagle,” said Scroll. “My name is Brother Scroll. I’m with the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia. And I’m your only friend in the whole wide world.”

Eagle sat there in stunned silence. Scroll was right: he was stuck here, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do.

“You should get back to bed,” said Scroll, gently nodding his head in the direction of the cot. “Eat before your breakfast gets cold. And put your scarf back on. It’ll keep you warm and cozy.”

And with that, Brother Scroll exited through the doors and went off to the town.

___________

It was as though Scroll crossed some sort of magic threshold into winter. The white sands of the beach melted into a layer of snow as he crossed over into the town. Scroll had wrapped himself in a red scarf, an accessory that he found many of the ponies in town lacked.

Most of the ponies in town were at the usual routine of trying to pick up the pieces. One pony was hauling a wagon of scrapped wood, straining his shoulders as he tried to plough through the snow. A mare was digging a pile of snow in front of her house, trying to get at the door.

Fewer buildings had been destroyed—the pegasi hadn’t brought in their usual tornados. But few of the locals were as experienced or comfortable with the snow, as they shivered and watched the vapors of their own breaths with horror.

The snow only served to make their attitudes colder. He found himself receiving three separate disparagements for his scarf, and one pony even shoved him into the snow without so much as an “excuse me.”

“Watch it!” shouted the lout.

Scroll stood up again and brushed the snow off of himself. “Sorry!” he called, his voice cracking slightly in the cold.

He saw a ball of children moving through the roads. What they were doing, he had no idea. They all clumped together, milling around as though completely lost. Scroll wondered if he should approach them and try to help, but in what way he couldn’t think.

Then, down by the piers at the town, he saw ships. For a moment he hoped that they were there to carry supplies from the Fraternity, but he saw the sails. Black sails, and as he looked at the bodies of the ships he noticed they seemed much… nastier than the usual merchant ships, plated in jagged, spiky metal.

Part of him was curious, but another part told him to stay away from them, and so he continued on his way.

___________

Tap had been pleased indeed to find that her house hadn’t been destroyed. This meant, of course, that she could resume with her business, rather than frustrate herself with getting the place rebuilt.

However, all was not as she left it—there were a few bottles conspicuously absent.

“Assholes,” said Tap. “I can just see them—‘Hey guys, free beer!’” She turned to Barrel. “Next attack I’m leaving a surprise. Maybe I’ll piss in the bottles. Or have Scroll jack off in them.”

“Whu—?” asked Barrel, who was trying as best as he could to position a broom in his mouth.

“Wingers stole my booze!” Tap exclaimed.

“Least no one’s here buying...” mumbled Barrel

He was right—at the moment there wasn’t exactly a whole lot of business. Everyone else was busy with rebuilding, so there was little time for drinking, even if the place weren’t in shambles. Still, it gave her a breather for the moment as she cleaned up. So she tidied the counter and checked the kitchen while Barrel swept broken glass and the last week’s puke off the floor. All in all, Tap was thrilled that the tavern came through the battle and looked only marginally worse than usual.

Well, there was one pony who wanted a drink. Bottletop threw the door open, beaming. “I’m still not dead!” he announced triumphantly. “Let’s get hammered!”

“We’re closed,” moaned Tap.

Bottletop stood there for a moment. “Oh,” he said in a lower voice. “Okay then. I’ll come back later.” And with that, he turned around and walked outside.

Barrel shivered slightly. “Brr,” he said. “It’s cold.”

“We can light a fire later,” said Tap.

“Can we make smores?”

“Huh?” asked Tap.

“Something the missionaries taught me how to make,” explained Barrel. “Well… no, we don’t have any… nevermind.”

The door opened, and large, thumping hoofsteps sounded. Tap looked and was about to tell him that they weren’t open, but she quickly realized that wasn’t the best idea.

“Well,” said General Quake, “lucky you.”

“Yes,” said Tap. “Very lucky. You care for a drink after kicking ass?”

Quake lumbered right into the room, his hooves smashing down on bits of broken bottles, before seating himself at a table. He was out of his armor, and his mane even dirtier and messier than usual. There was a vicious red mark on his forehead over his eye, making him look even angrier than usual. “I could use a drink. Fucking cowards piss me off.”

“‘Hit-and-run,’ right?” asked Tap.

“More like ‘shoot-and-shit-yourself,’” said Quake.

Tap brought him one of the few bottles that wasn’t broken or half-empty (“Half-full!” she heard White chime in her mind).

“And then when it’s all over, the ponies come bitching to me,” he muttered. He took the bottle with his oversized hoof and raised his head in an oddly high-pitched, mocking voice. “‘Oh, how are we going to have enough food until we get our businesses running again?’ ‘I don’t have enough wood!’ ‘My spine’s broken!’”

“Shit,” said Tap. “Whose spine got broken?”

“Who gives a shit?” asked Quake. “I got an island to run! Shit to do!”

“Ah,” said Tap, settling behind the counter. “So, what are you doin’?”

Quake sat where he was, his chair creaking slightly under his weight. “I dunno,” he said. “I’m bored.” He drained the entire bottle of beer, and then tossed it at the wall behind him. Barrel winced as the bottle shattered and glass scattered over the floor. “I mean, fuck, my job doesn’t get any easier.”

“Maybe you should take a day off?” Barrel suggested.

Quake slowly turned and looked at Barrel. His eyebrow arched in a look of perplexed confusion, as if wondering whether that was a stupid idea. Barrel shrank away a little and went back to cleaning in slow, small sweeps.

“Too bad we can’t head over and kick their shit in,” said Quake. “Fucking cowards, both of ‘em—King Horner and Flying Megabitch.” He was silent for a few seconds. “She kicked me in the face.”

“You get any hits in?” asked Tap.

Quake grumbled something she couldn’t make out. “She’s fast,” said Quake. “She’s fast and she throws fucking bolts everywhere.”

The door opened again. Tap groaned. “Look, we’re not open!”

Scroll shrank in the doorframe. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll just go then.”

Barrel, however, was more welcoming. “Scroll!” he said. “I just remembered I finished that book!”

“Oh?” asked Scroll. “How’d you like it?”

“It was great!”

“You hold book club in here?” Quake asked Tap, his voice a low, mildly-annoyed rumble.

Tap simply shrugged. “It’s new. Apparently.”

“’Cause I didn’t come here for fucking book club.”

“The twist blew my mind!” said Barrel. “It was like…”

“Yeah, it was a good one,” said Scroll, nodding.

“Hold on, I’ll go get it,” said Barrel, waddling out of the room.

Quake turned in his seat and looked at Scroll with a flat, dull, annoyed expression. “The fuck are you doing here?” he asked.

“Huh?” asked Scroll.

“Are you here for a reason?” asked Quake, glaring at him. “’Cause I don’t see any dicks here for you to suck.”

Scroll shrank back a little. “I’m just… checking up on things. I mean, the town’s all covered in snow and there are these ships in the harbor and—”

“Wait,” said Quake. “Ships?”

“Uhh, yeah,” said Scroll. “They have black sails and—”

“Shit,” said Quake. With a speed that betrayed his brutish, sluggish appearance, he rose from his seat and marched out the door, roughly shoving Scroll to the floor.

Scroll winced and let out a high-pitched squeak.

“Something wrong?” asked Tap.

“Nothing, nothing…” Scroll whispered. Slowly and deliberately, he started to stand up. “I just think I was sitting in some glass. And…” He took a sniff. “I think somepony peed in it.”

“I heard that if ponies are peeing in your bar, it means you’re doing something right,” said Barrel. Tap shot him a dubious look, before looking back at Scroll.

“So what are you up to?” asked Tap.

“Well, like I said,” said Scroll, adjusting his glasses. He moved towards a chair as though meaning to sit down in it, but seemed to decide against it and simply stood in place, shifting weight from hoof to hoof. “The snow is everywhere. Though on the bright side, this could help the water situation a bit.”

“Huh?” asked Tap. “How?”

“Well, you see,” said Scroll, adjusting his glasses, “there are different states of matter—water, mainly, has…”

“Short version, please,” Tap droned loudly.

“Eheh…” said Scroll. “Well, snow is frozen water. Just, like, collect it in pans, melt it down, and you have drinkable water.”

“Thank you,” said Tap. “So, it cold over at your place?”

“No,” said Scroll. “The pegasi just ignored it. There’s no snow anywhere out of town. Anyway...” His hoof brushed the floor. “If you don’t need any help, I’ll leave you to it.”

Tap stood there and watched him as he walked to the door. His pace was slow and deliberate, especially with the hind legs.

“You know,” said Tap, “I don’t get why you didn’t just shoot that soldier.” Scroll turned around and opened his mouth. “I mean, as opposed to leaving him to bleed to death in the snow. I get you have that whole ‘pacifist’ thing, but come on, that’d be a mercy kill.”

“W-well…” said Scroll, fidgeting the glasses with a shaky hoof.

Tap narrowed her eyes at him. “Scroll…?” she asked. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Uh…” Scroll’s eyes shifted. “Well, I haven’t told you a lot of things…”

Tap took a very, very slow step towards him. “Scroll, did you do something with the soldier?”

Scroll’s hoof was so shaky he couldn’t even grip his glasses and instead hit himself in the cheek.

“Scroll, what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Scroll squeaked.

Tap groaned and pressed her hoof into her forehead so hard it was a wonder she didn’t leave a dent. “You did something,” she said. “You… let me guess, you dragged him over to the library, didn’t you?”

Scroll just stood there, his hooves frozen to the floor and his eyes looking everywhere except at Tap.

“Oh, fuck, you did,” said Tap, her mouth agape. “You brought a wi—”

“Please don’t use that language.”

“A pegasus into your home?”

“Well,” said Scroll. “It’s not that different from having a unicorn in my home.”

“Wh… no,” said Tap, shaking her hoof and her head. “No, I’m not gonna ask ‘why,’ because I know exactly the answer I’m gonna get, it’s the same answer you give for everything you do…”

“I couldn’t just leave him there,” said Scroll. “He was lying there, crying in pain. And I couldn’t kill him. Tap, he’s just a kid!”

“So what are you gonna do?” asked Tap. “Nurse him back to health and read him bedtime stories?”

“That’s… mostly what I had in mind…” said Scroll. He looked back at Tap, his expression strained. “It’s what White would do.”

Tap sighed and walked back to the bar, shooting narrow-eyed glares at the shards of glass on the floor as she stepped around them.

Barrel walked back into the room, carrying the book in his mouth. “Fffd d!” he muffled.

“Oh, thank you,” said Scroll. He walked over to him and Barrel gave the book back. “I’ll see you later, then,” he said, nodding to him and then to Tap. “There’s a lot of work we all have to do.”

Tap stood there, watching as he left the tavern. Then, as the door shut, she snapped out of her glazed stupor and marched after him.

“Tap, what’re you—”

“I’ll be back in a minute, Barrel,” said Tap. She headed out the door and saw him walking away in the middle of the road. “Scroll!”

“Huh?” Scroll turned around.

“Look, I just need to tell you something,” said Tap, walking up to him.

“Well… uh… what is it?” Scroll asked, fidgeting with his glasses.

“I don’t care what it is you’re doing with that soldier. Or anything you do,” she said with a sigh. “Do whatever it is you’re gonna do with your mission thing. Just leave my brother out of it.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Just leave him out,” she growled.

Scroll stood there in silence, and then nodded. “I understand,” he muttered. He looked out into the street. “I’ll leave him alone.”

Tap nodded and turned to walk back to the tavern. But she stopped when she heard Scroll speak again.

“I saw some foals earlier,” said Scroll. “Out in the cold. With all the fighting, I… I guess a lot of them don’t have parents.”

“No shit,” said Tap. “When our parents died, we had to take over and run the tavern ourselves. After we rebuilt it.”

Scroll just stared off into the snow.

“Anyway, I gotta take care of some stuff,” said Tap, turning back into the tavern. “Let me know if that book of yours has any helpful advice for dealing with a snow storm.”

And out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scroll’s ears flick.

___________

Tap sighed, looking at the sad little fireplace in the corner of the room, its embers too feeble to sputter up a spark. Time to go out and get some more wood, thought Tap. Luckily, she had enough money that she wouldn’t have to deal with the other wood for right now.

Holding her purse in her mouth, she stepped out the door, but stopped when a big blue blur breezed right past her.

“Woo!” called Scroll. He was soon followed by a bunch of other, smaller blurs, careening down the snow-filled street without a care in the world.

“What on…”

Barrel poked his head out of the doorway behind her. “That looks fun,” he said. “I wanna do it.”

“I…” Tap said, blinking. “What is he…” She turned around. “Hold on a second.” She circled into the mission room, which by now had been used to house various odds & ends and Barrel’s makeshift recovery bed. However, it still had a small stack of books on one of the tables. She marched up to it and took one of them, opening The Book of Friendship over past the section with all the letters and stories, and over to the “Fun Activities for Friends” section.

“Winter sports for snowy days…” she muttered. “Sledding, snowponies… Oh, fuck me…”

Barrel walked in after her. “You okay, sis?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a bit…” She turned around and saw him, with a length of blue cloth around his neck. “What is that?” she asked. “Where did you get it?”

“Oh!” said Barrel. “It’s a scarf! Brother Scroll gave me one.”

“Just now?” asked Tap dubiously.

“Uh-huh,” said Barrel, quickly nodding his head. “He had one for you, too…” He held out another scarf, this one the same shade of red as Tap’s mane.

Tap slowly, cautiously extended her hoof and took it, eyeing it strangely as though she suspected it would try to poison her.

“They’re really comfy,” said Barrel. “Go on, try it.”

Tap tossed it around her neck, and then unexpectedly smiled. “Yes. I guess it is.”

She stepped out into the street and was taken aback at how the icy-cold air stung at her skin and numbed her hooves. The scarf made it more bearable, though. She plodded through the snow, hearing it crunch beneath her hooves. The Equestrians go through this every year? she thought as she struggled to move her hooves through the thick layer of snow. They make it happen? Why would anypony do that?

In short, Tap quickly decided that snow sucked and it was terrible. All she could think about while she walked down the road was how nice it would be to sit by a warm fire with a blanket.

She could hear the foals yelling. “Watch out!” one of them called, before something cold and wet hit her in the face. Tap stumbled backwards, and the air was filled with flying snowballs.

“Tap!” called Scroll. “Get down!”

“Huh?”

“Back here!”

Tap ran behind a wall, where Scroll was hiding. “Scroll?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve got me pinned down,” explained Scroll.

“I…” Tap saw a mound of snowballs at his hooves. In Scroll’s hoof he held another snowball, and he himself looked like he had taken a beating with those things. His scarf was covered in white flecks of snow, and his mane was looking wet and disheveled.

“Come out!” called one of foals. Soon, others repeated it. “Come out! Come out!” and soon it became a chant. “Come out! Come out! Come out! Come out!”

“Scroll?” asked Tap, narrowing her eyes.

“Yeah?” asked Scroll, looking at her.

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a snowball fight!” said Scroll. “It’s fun! And I’m losing!”

Tap picked up one of the snowballs and stared at it in disbelief. The foals’ chant of “Come out! Come out! Come out!” She looked right at Scroll, and then pressed the snowball into his forehead.

Scroll stood there for a moment, his own snowball falling out of his hoof. “Traitor,” he mumbled.

___________

Buzz looked over his collection of stools and small tables. Most of them were too small for an adult pony. The ones that weren’t were crooked or wobbled. At least none of his three-legged stools wobbled anymore.

He sat down and sighed. He didn’t know what he’d do. With his father here he didn’t have to worry, but now that he was alone and had to support himself, he… He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready. And he had nowhere to turn.

He sat down on one of his stools. The small ones were crafted as fine as any, but they only suited foals.

Foals… he could hear them all shouting and running outside. They were having fun, not a care in the—

Wait, thought Buzz. The fuck are they so happy about?

Buzz walked to the door and looked out. He saw the crowd of foals running, tossing snowballs ahead, and looked on, utterly baffled. “Whu?” he sputtered. “What’s going on?”

“Brother Scroll’s teaching us about winter stuff!” called one of the foals. “We’re having a snowball fight!”

Buzz stood there by the window and watched the foals pass by. Then, after the passed the corner, he opened the door and ran after him.

___________

Tap sat on a wooden box and just watched from the distance, her scarf warm and snug around her neck. Scroll rolled a large snowball over the ground, the foals following his example, some of them working on the same one as his. He placed it in the middle of the ground and began rolling another one. It wasn’t just snow, though—Scroll got the idea of rolling cannonballs to give them a bit of a start on a larger size.

“What are you doing again?” asked Tap.

“Snow ponies!” called Scroll, before turning back to the foals. “Okay, that’s good,” he instructed. “Now you put a smaller one on top here for a head…”

One of the foals tossed a snowball at Scroll’s head. He stood there, blinking. Tap giggled.

Another, slightly older foal puzzled over his snow-covered cannonball. “I don’t get it,” he said. “What’s the point?”

“Um…” said Scroll. “There isn’t one.”

“There’s no point?” asked the foal, his hoof on the snowball. “Then why are were doing it?”

“Umm... Tap?” Scroll asked. “The… the book?” He waved his hoof at her, gesturing to the book beside her.

Tap looked down at the book beside her and turned it to Winter Sports for Snowy Days. “Well?” she asked. “What do you want me to do?”

“Um…” said Scroll, his face flushing slightly. “Help explain?”

Tap rolled her eyes and read, “Just because it’s chilly and gloomy outside doesn’t mean you have to be, too! There are many fun activities you and your friends can do in winter time, from sledding to ice skating to—”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” the foal said flatly. He looked around and snorted. “I have to work. I don’t have time for this.” He snorted and walked off.

“But, um…” Scroll started, but shrank back. “Okay.”

Some more foals dispersed from the crowd, going back in different directions. Many of them stayed behind, watching Scroll.

“Well,” said Scroll, taking a deep breath and straightening his glasses. “Why don’t you all continue without me while I plan our next activity.” The foals went to it as Scroll walked up to Tap, a painful smile plastered on his face, and said, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay,” said Tap, deadpanning, “you almost fooled me.” She looked off down the road. “You know, that foal had a point. A lot of these kids who don’t have parents have to look after themselves. At a rebuilding time like this they’re the ones who need to pull their weight and get back on their hooves.”

“I guess,” said Scroll, sighing, “but I think about Clip, and I—”

“Oh, taking in Clip was totally great,” said Tap, “I’m not saying you did anything wrong there. But that was because you could take him in. These foals, though?” She looked out at them, then she looked at Scroll. He stood there, staring blankly, lost in thought. “Scroll?” she asked. “Please tell me you’re not getting a terrible idea.”

Scroll winced. “It’s not terrible… I don’t think it is, anyway…”

“Well, you can’t take them all in,” said Tap. “Not with him.”

Scroll’s uneasy smile drooped and he sagged slightly. “I just need to think of something.”

“Yeah,” said Tap, getting off of the barrel. “You do that. I got some other stuff I have to take care of. See ya around.”

Scroll sat down on the barrel where she had been sitting, watching the foals play. The wheels in his head turned and turned. He’d get an idea. Maybe he already had one.

___________

“Excuse me,” said Eagle. “What the fuck is the point of all this?”

He was back on the Storm Cloud. They all were, him and a bunch of soldiers, back before he met that snivelling shit-pussy missionary. Back when he was busy being annoyed by that other missionary, Brother Sky, who had carefully arranged some stupid obstacle course.

“This,” explained Sky, “is a team-building exercise. It’s important for your relationships as a, um, well… a team.”

“Relationships? Sounds gay,” laughed Eagle.

“If you’re not interested then you can go do something else,” said Sky through nearly-gritted teeth.

“No no no nooooo,” said Eagle. “I’m very interested in this relationships stuff. Just, can I get paired up with a hottie?” There were a few chuckles from the other pegasi. Brother Sky looked up at the platform above them. General Storm stood there, looking down, her eyes cold and impassive. She was unlikely to do anything; she was just here to watch.

Sky looked back at Eagle. “Leave. Now.” The other pegasi made chants of “ooh!” and “it’s on, now.”

Eagle chuckled and walked up to him. “Make me, bitch.”

“Do you just get a kick out of being a douchebag?” asked Sky. “‘Cause you’re a douchebag.”

In a flash, Eagle swung his hoof and clocked Brother Sky right in the nose. Sky reeled back, covering his face with his hoof.

“Douchebag, right,” said Eagle. “So it’s my job to clean out the pussy. That’s you.” He sneered. “You think you’re top shit and everything, but nopony gives a fuck.”

Sky took a step back. “Nopony gives a fuck…” he repeated. “Right. Not here. But you know something, Eagle? I don’t think anypony gives a fuck about you, either.” He lowered his hoof. His nose was bleeding profusely. “But the funny part is that somepony does give a fuck about me. Back home I got a mom and dad. If they’ve found out that I had to fly away from Earthquake Island for my life, then they’re worried sick. And if I die, then, well, haha,” he laughed darkly. “There’s probably gonna be, like… a funeral and stuff. They’ll get photographs of me and have a service. They’ll talk about things I did. I have friends and family back home, Eagle. What do you have?”

He was met by another hoof to the face, this one knocking him down. He didn’t have time to register as more blows came, hitting him in the chest and the stomach. Eagle looked down at him. “I have a gun,” he said. “Not that I need it to kick your ass.”

Sky looked up at at General Storm, still watching, her stoney expression unchanged. “Then kick my ass,” he whispered. “That’s all you can do. And then you’ll die. Bleeding. Screaming. And alone. And then nopony will care. There won’t be a funeral or a service. I’ve seen a lot of you die, and nothing happens,” he said. “You will die, and you will leave nothing behind. Like you never existed.”

___________

Eagle awoke with a start, sweating profusely. Thankfully he had left the curtains open, giving himself some much-needed breathing space. He heard the door open.

“Well, that was fun,” announced Scroll, trotting inside.

“Uh?” groaned Eagle.

“Oh, good, you’re back there,” said Scroll, trotting over by his bedside. “How was your breakfast?”

The tray of food lay on the bedside, covered in crumbs. “Uh, it was good,” said Eagle. “Thanks.”

Scroll trotted over to the desk and started sorting through papers. “Real lucky the Fraternity sent us a crate full of scarves for Hearth’s Warming,” said Scroll. “Though… I shouldn’t be that happy. It’s only here because the town got snowed in. I dunno. Maybe snowing the town in was better than tornados.”

Eagle snorted and looked up at the ceiling. “Are you done?” he asked.

Scroll looked at him for a moment, quietly. Eagle raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Not enough ponies,” said Scroll quietly. “Not enough for tornados and a direct attack. Not at the same time. So it’s the same with you.”

“Huh?” asked Eagle.

“When Storm tried to kill me me she mocked me for being a ‘civilian,’” said Scroll. “The Storm Cloud doesn’t have civilians, does it? Every pony there goes into the armed forces and joins in the attacks here. You… you’re practically a foal yourself. And Clip got tossed off the cloud because he couldn’t fly. Couldn’t fight,” said Scroll. “You’re throwing every pony you have into your military and you’re dying faster than you can replace anypony.”

“Seriously, stop looking at me like that,” said Eagle. “It’s creeping me the fuck out.”

“Sorry,” said Scroll, turning away. He looked over his papers. “You’re killing each other.”

“And who the fuck asked you?” asked Eagle. He moved to sit up.

“Careful,” said Scroll, raising a hoof. “Don’t want to stress your wings.” He lowered his hoof again as Eagle lay back down. Then, after a moment’s pause, Scroll turned around again, his eyes narrowed. “And I think I will chime in, seeing how it’s kinda my job.”

“Fuck you.”

Scroll snorted. “Most ponies like you at your age are shoving foals in lockers or stealing lunch money or, or giving swirlies. You, on the other hoof…” He shook his head. “Well, at least I get a reason for your attacks. When the unicorns attack, however… they don’t take food or anything. They take a lot of prisoners, though… I just wish I knew why.”

“Why didn’t you kill me?” asked Eagle. Scroll turned around. “You could have. You could have easily finished me off. You and your friend had my gun. You could have shot me or stomped my head, or…” His voice trailed off.

Scroll sorted his papers into a nice, neat stack, and put them back in the desk drawer. He got up to leave and head back out the door, but not without turning to Eagle and saying, “Because I’m not like you.”

___________

General Quake watched as the soldiers hauled that massive crates into the camp. He smirked as they filed in. His breath crystalized in the air, somehow more frightening than it should have been.

“I should have done this a long time ago,” he said, watching as the last crate rolled into the camp.

Gunner and Trigger Mark were on their way out, Trigger Mark looking sternly ahead and Gunner rattling on about something. Quake didn’t really care, because Gunner was kind of stupid and gave him a headache.

“The fuck do you two think you’re going?” he asked. The soldiers stopped. Gunner opened his mouth to say something, most likely ‘umm,’ but Quake cut him off. “I want you in the camp.”

“Yes sir,” said Trigger Mark, helping to turn Gunner around before they both marched back inside.

“I’m guessing you’re really excited about what was on that boat,” said Tap’s voice. Quake turned around and saw her standing there in the snow, with the red scarf around her neck. He smiled.

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve had in weeks,” he said.

“Those weren’t Equestrian ships,” observed Tap, looking back down the road in the direction of the harbor. “They sure didn’t look like it.”

“No,” he said, his mouth stretched into a disturbingly eager smile, “Equestria wouldn’t sell these to me. Not for cheap, anyway.”

“Is it something I get to see?” asked Tap, crossing her forelegs demurely. “Or is this a military secret?”

Quake chuckled, and one could swear the snow vibrated just a little. “Oh, by all means, come inside and take a look.” He stepped aside and raised a hoof, signalling her inside. She passed by and he watched lustily after her. “So,” he said, following her into the camp. “What can I do you for?”

Tap turned her head and looked back at him. “I was actually thinking I’d like a blanket.”

Quake cut in front of her. “You look pretty in that scarf,” he said. “Where’d you get it? Brother Scroll give it to you?”

“Yes,” said Tap. Quickly, she changed the subject. “Actually, you got any spare firewood, too?”

“Yeah,” said Quake. “I got plenty in my stash. You can take as much as you like.”

“Generous,” said Tap.

“Well, I’m in a great fucking mood right now,” said Quake. Tap’s face bore an expression of a mix of amusement and weirded out curiousity. “You’ll see.”

He led her to the middle of the camp, where the big black crates stood. “Everyone get your asses here!” he shouted.

Soldiers ran up and stood at attention, some like professionals, some like they’d just woken up. However, all the soldiers there stood in rows in front of Quake, who looked up and down them all.

“So, I’ve made a deal with some folks out to the west,” he said, gesturing to the massive crates behind him. “And they’ve made a delivery that couldn’t have come at a better fucking time.”

He walked up to one of the crates, turned around, and kicked it. The wood splintered and the fragments of the box fell away, revealing the contents inside.

It was something like a two-pony bicycle, except with a massive propeller and mounted with dual machine guns.

“Wow!” said Gunner, a smile coming across his face. Then the smile drooped and he leaned over to Trigger Mark. “What is it?”

“We’re gonna have two soldiers to each of these,” explained Quake. “General Cunt has used her usual ass-tics of hitting us and running away. Except this time, we’re gonna follow and beat their asses while they’re still licking their assholes.”

The soldiers smiled, looking over all the boxes. There was a dull murmuring sound. This had gotten them excited.

“We head out tonight!” said Quake. “We’re gonna fly after them and rain hell on their little raincloud. Strafe ‘em with machine guns and then charge on their houses. That’ll show em not to—”

“You can’t walk on clouds,” said Tap. General Quake fell silent and slowly turned to face her. His expression had turned to annoyed confusion. Tap cleared her throat. “Uh… non-pegasus ponies can’t walk on clouds.”

“The fuck do you know that?” asked Quake.

Tap looked around at the soldiers, all of them looking at her curiously. “I read it,” she said simply.

“Sir?” said Trigger Mark. “She’s correct. I’ve read it, too.”

Gunner looked at him. “Really?”

“It’s in the missionaries’ book,” Trigger Mark explained, shoving a hoof over Gunner’s mouth. “Non-pegasi need special spells to walk on clouds.”

“Shit,” said General Quake. His eyebrows furrowed in thought. “We can still bullet-fuck ‘em, right?”

“Don’t see why not,” said Trigger Mark, shrugging.

Quake grunted. “Good enough. We leave tonight.” His mouth curled into a crude smile. “We’re gonna find ‘em and make them pay for every last piece of shit they did. We’re gonna bullet-fuck ‘em, all right…” He looked back up at the soldiers. “Everyone make sure you’re ready tonight.”

The soldiers nodded and went about their business. Quake stood there for a moment, smiling to himself, basking in his own satisfaction. However, that was soon broken.

“Sir—Ow!” said his lieutenant.

Quake had responded by hitting him on the head. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m thinking,” he said. “Or when I’m talking. Or fucking.”

“Sorry, sir,” said the lieutenant, nursing the now-rising lump on his head.

“So what the fuck is it?” asked Quake.

“The, uh…” the Lieutenant babbled. “The missionary is here with a letter.”

Quake snorted. “Remember the part I said about fucking?”

The Lieutenant took a nervous step back. “Yes, sir?”

“If you ever interrupt my fucking with that,” he said, glaring. “I am going to smear you over the side of the mountain.”

___________

General Quake looked over the letter. Then he looked up at Scroll. Then he looked back to the letter. His lieutenants stood by the opening of his tent, while Tap sat behind him.

Scroll sat down, nervously twiddling his hooves and looking aimlessly from soldier to soldier. His jaw rocked back and forth slightly. Quake couldn’t look at him for more than a few seconds without getting the immense urge to punt him out of the camp.

“This is fucking stupid,” said Quake. He looked at Scroll. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be the stupid one.”

“This isn’t stupid,” said Scroll. “It’s the moral thing to do.”

“Oh, this shit…” Quake mumbled.

“General,” said Scroll, his voice nearly shaking, “there are a lot of foals here who don’t have parents. These foals have to fend for themselves. They have…” he stopped. “I remember Clip. He had nowhere to go, so he had to pick up garbage to keep himself living. I know there’s Buzz, who has to try to take over his dad’s carpentry business since the unicorns took his father away. And there’s more of them, like with—”

“Did you prepare a fucking list or something?” asked Quake. “Get to the fucking point?”

“General,” said Scroll. “General… I want these foals to have a better life. We can help. We can get these foals on the next ship to Equestria. The Fraternity can get them into foster care, help them find families who want to take in foals to raise. We can…” He forced a smile. “We can give them loving families. Childhoods. Educations. We can raise them in a better, kinder world. We can give them a chance to have something more.  Me I… I’m just one pony, I… I can’t do all that much. I need you to help me.” He slowly approached, his back hunched over in a preemptive cringe. “You don’t know what this means to me. You… you’re responsible for this island. These foals are yours. I need you to do this. Please… I just need you to say yes.”

Quake stared at him. Scroll stared back, holding his breath. Quake continued to just watch him, in the hopes that Scroll would pass out in front of him, but when it turned out that that would take too long, he answered. “No,” he said.

“I—wh—”

Quake crumpled up the letter and stomped it. “That’s my answer. They’re my foals, you say. Well, I’m sure as fuck not giving them up. I need them to keep rebuilding and fighting.”

“But—” Scroll sputtered.

“Actually, no, that’s not why I’m saying ‘no,’” said Quake. “I’m actually saying ‘no’ because I want you to go fuck yourself.”

Scroll silenced himself and took a step back. “I don’t understand it,” he said softly. “You’d refuse that just to spite me.”

“Sure as fuck,” said Quake. “Now don’t come back unless you have a letter about how great your week was having anal sex with your mission-buddy.”

“But I—”

Quake rose from his seat and, in a massive brown blur cleared the gap between himself and Scroll.

“No buts,” barked Quake.

“I-i-if I don’t do that,” said Scroll, stumbling backwards and falling on his rear, “maybe, uh, maybe I could, uh…” His eyes flicked back and forth, looking to the other ponies as though hoping they could offer some support. “Send for some more ponies to help? We could set up a, uh, a thing here and—”

Quake stopped that with a swift hoof. Scroll saw stars flash before his eyes as it smashed into his face. He could feel his nose break, and his glasses snap and shatter. Not again… he thought.

“I think I have all the missionaries I need,” Quake said, snorting. He looked down at Scroll, who had instantly crumpled onto the ground, clutching his nose. “I don’t give a shit what you do with the kids, but you aren’t taking them to Equestria and you’re not bring more of your friends here. You got that?” Scroll didn’t even dare squirm. “Well?”

Scroll squeaked out a meek “yes sir,” through his hooves.

“Good,” said Quake. However, he put a hoof to Scroll’s head. “And another thing…” He lowered his head. “You never, ever tell me how I run my island.” He lifted his hoof and stepped away. “Now get out.”

Scroll clumsily pulled himself up and scampered out of the camp, protectively covering his bleeding nose with a hoof.

___________

Scroll sat at the desk, breathing easy and watching as the foals sat around, drinking their cocoa and eating grilled cheese sandwiches.

Scroll was rather pleased with himself for having come up with a solution to his dilemma. He didn’t have to do anything at all. He just looked over to the corner of the room, where the curtains were drawn. Scroll had taken the additional precaution of roping it off and hanging a sign that read: WARNING: Boring Books!

This seemed to do the trick. For the time being, Scroll looked over his letter and took a sip of lemonade. He chewed on his quill, trying to think of a way to write it. He decided, ultimately, to simply say things were underway and that he was working with the foals. Maybe he’d be able to take a picture with them.

It would play into what Quake wanted. “Everything’s going great. Please give us more stuff,” he thought pitifully. He dipped the quill into the inkwell and began to write. He was less pleased with the fact that he had now run out of glasses and had to resort to the last thing in his case: a monocle.

The foals continued to amuse themselves. A few of them looked over the bookshelves, but soon lost interest.

Buzz was among them, and walked over to the desk. “Brother Scroll?” he asked.

Scroll looked away from his letter and down at the colt. “Yes?” he asked, the quill sticking out through his teeth. “Is there something you wanted?”

“Not really,” Buzz mumbled. “Apart from everything to go back to normal.”

“Whose normal?” asked Scroll, spitting out the quill.

“I just want my father back,” said Buzz. “And Brother White. I miss them.”

Scroll, looked over at him and slouched forward in his seat. “So do I.” He nodded.

“It’s my fault they’re gone,” said Buzz, staring straight into the floor.

“Now, Buzz…”

“No! It is!” said Buzz, looking up. His eyes seemed to shake a bit as tears began to well in them. “If I hadn’t run and gone... if I didn’t hide, then dad wouldn’t have gotten captured, and Barrel wouldn’t have gotten shot, and White wouldn’t have—”

“Buzz,” said Scroll, firmly but gently. “You had no way of knowing what would happen. And, as someone who was there when White, well… had to run for his life, I can safely say that you had no part in it.”

“Still feels like it,” said Buzz. “After everything I did…” He looked back down, sagging his shoulders. “I tried to kill him,” he said softly. “I tried to kill him for no reason. I… I did that. A-and I’ll never not have done that. At first I thought it’d be, like, funny, but now I think about it more and more and—” His voice broke. “Now he’s gone and I’ll never be able to say I’m sorry. And my father’s gone and… I’ll never be able to face it. I lied to him. I told him a lie so he’d go after White a-and now he’s gone and I might never see him again and it’s all my fault and—”

Scroll put a comforting hoof on the colt’s shoulder. “Buzz,” he said. Buzz made a loud sniff and looked up at him. “I don’t know your father very well, but one thing I know for sure is that he loves you very much.”

Buzz made another loud sniff and wiped his nose with his hoof. “I… I guess… I just wish they were back.”

“I know,” said Scroll, looking up at the wall. “So do I…”

Buzz got up. “I should go,” he said. “I need to carve more stuff. I have to manage the shop.”

Scroll smiled. “I’m sure when your father gets back he’ll be very proud of you for running it while he’s gone.”

“You think so?”

Scroll nodded. “I think so.”

Buzz took a deep breath and trod out the door, leaving Scroll to return to his letter. However, something else drew his attention.

“Nuh…” came a soft moan from behind the curtain.

“What was that?” asked one of the foals.

“What was what?” squeaked Scroll, perhaps a little too quickly.

“It came from behind the curtain,” said another foal. Before Scroll could say anything, however, the soft moan came again.

“There’s somepony behind there,” said the first foal.

As he saw the foals begin to approach the curtain, Scroll bolted from the desk in front of them. One of the foals reached out a hoof to touch the curtain, and Scroll slapped it away. “Stop!” he yelped, his brain racing to try to think of something. “Uh… that pony is very sick.”

“What’s he sick with?” asked the foal.

Time seemed frozen for Scroll. He felt a ponderous sinking feeling on him, as though he were inside a wet cardboard box, trying desperately to hold it up, while on a set of tracks where two trains were about to crash into each other on his location. For a moment, an impulse screamed in his ear to do what he would do in that situation: drop everything and run away, screaming like a pansy.

“Uhh…” said Scroll, his face almost dead. “Boredom.”

“Boredom?”

“Yeah,” said Scroll. He pointed a hoof to the sign. “He read the boring books. And now he’s bored.” One of the foals took a tentative step forward. “Stay back!” warned Scroll, jerking forward and startling the foal backwards. “It’s contagious!” He looked at the curtain. “You, uh… tell them how bored you are?”

There was a pregnant silence before Eagle spoke. “Yes,” he said. “Very, very bored.”

“See?” asked Scroll, smiling weakly. “And it’s contagious. So you can’t see him or you’ll get bored, too. And then it’ll be a, uh, an epidemic!”

“I don’t know what that means,” said a foal.

“Something bad!” said Scroll.

The other foals looked at him disbelievingly, looking from him to each other to the sign. One foal mumbled ‘I can’t read.’ Scroll looked around at the others as the curtain ruffled slightly with another cough.

Shit, thought Scroll.

“What kind of book is it?” asked a foal, standing on his tippy-hooves. There was a dense silence.

“Well?” asked Scroll through a pained smile. “What, uh… what kind of book are you reading?”

“Uh…” said Eagle. “A boring one.”

“What’s it about?” asked another foal.

“It’s about, um…” said Eagle.

For a moment the color fell from Scroll’s face as he envisioned the world coming down around him, starting with the library and ending with a giant sign that said ‘Scroll You Fucking Idiot.’ Then, Eagle spoke again.

“It’s about a stallion. He walks to the edge of a cliff and looks down,” he said. Scroll’s ears pricked up. “He looks down. The cliff is so high he can’t see the ground at the bottom. He thinks about the way he walked, the things he walked from, and wonders if any of it was worth doing. The whole story is him, standing at the edge and looking down. He doesn’t know if he’s going to jump off or if he’s going to turn around again and head back on down.”

Scroll was completely silent. So were the foals. They sat in their seats, looking straight ahead as though they could see the pony behind the curtain and the sign.

“Wow,” said one of the foals. “That really does sound boring.”

___________

Barrel was very proud of himself. He’d managed to clean the entire floor except for a corner. That one corner was presently piled with splinters and broken glass. He figured he’d just wait for Tap to get home and help him with that. It shouldn’t be too hard, he reasoned. It was only one pile.

Satisfied with the job he’d done, he went over to the bathroom, prepared to take a celebratory dump. He decided against trying to clean it, as it was just bound to get dirty. He could’ve sworn that certain puke stains on the floor dated back more than an attack or two before; older than this incarnation of the tavern.

Still, he’d mentioned numerous times to Tap that he thought they should plug up those holes in the stall walls. Tap said not to worry about it, but he couldn’t help eyeing them when he sat down.

This time, however, before he sat down to relieve himself, he noticed some odd patch down in the pit. He squinted his eyes, but couldn’t make it out in the dim lamplight.

“Barrel?” called his sister. He looked up. “I’m home. I see you got the place cleaned up… mostly.”

“I’m in here!” Barrel answered. “I found something funny in the toilet.”

“You didn’t touch it, did you?”

“No!”

There was a soft thud, and Tap made her way over to the bathroom. She had a folded-up blanket on her back. “I got a blanket and some firewood,” she said, approaching the stall. “Thought it’d help warm up a little. Barrel was still peering into the toilet, so she stepped up next to him and slipped the blanket over his back. He looked up at her.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Any time,” said Tap, putting her arm around his shoulder.

Barrel smiled and looked down at the toilet. “So, I think there’s something down there.”

Tap leaned over, peering down. “What is it?”

“I dunno,” said Barrel. “Think we could, like, fish it out?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it,” said Tap. “Why don’t you head over by the fireplace? I got some wood and I can start a fire.”

Barrel nodded and they both walked out of the bathroom. Tap soon went back in with a long wooden pole while he got in a seat in front of the fireplace, wrapping himself in the blanket. It was warm and soft and had a changing red-and-blue pattern. He hummed softly in contentment.

“Oh, fuck!” shouted Tap. Barrel started up. She marched out of the room and threw something on the floor.

“What is it?” asked Barrel, looking over at it. It was a small, white (though less white than it might have been, owing to it being covered in piss and shit), crystalline device.

“It’s a unicorn teleporter.”

___________

General Quake hunched over, his hulking form bent over the table. His nostrils flared and he made a face.

“It smells like shit,” he said.

The fireplace was lit. Barrel sat in front of it, seemingly not listening to the conversation, wrapped in a warm blanket and drinking a cup of warm water. Tap did not have any cocoa on hoof. Quake watched him curiously, recognizing the blanket he’d given her. Next to Quake sat his lieutenant on one side and Trigger Mark on the other.

“Well, Barrel did find it in the toilet,” said Tap. “So what does this mean?”

“It means the dickheads have been at it again,” said Quake. “We need to fucking root through this town and find them. And then smash ‘em.”

“Shit,” said Tap, “does this mean you’re calling off that attack tonight?”

“Fuck no,” Quake grunted, sitting up. “We’re not getting another chance like this.”

“Well,” said Tap, leaning her head back and forth. “We could wait for another attack…”

Quake snorted.

The door found itself thrown open as Scroll waltzed in. “Tap, I was wondering if I could borrow some water!” he shouted in a loud, but tired voice.

“It’s downstairs,” Tap.

“I, uh…” Scroll stepped into the room and looked over at Quake at the table. “What’s going on?”

“None of your fucking business,” said Quake, hiding the teleporter. Scroll leaned over to his side, trying to see around him, and nearly fell over. “The fuck are you wearing?”

Scroll backed up. “Uhh… it’s a monocle.”

“I know what a monocle is!” barked Quake, making Scroll jump. “Why are you wearing one?”

“I, uh…” Scroll pawed the floor and looked at Trigger Mark and Tap, as though hoping for support. “I ran out of glasses. I wrote mom a letter asking for more,” said Scroll. “I said I, uh, sat on the box.”

“Great,” said Quake, waving a hoof. “Now fuck off.”

“The water’s in the cellar,” said Tap, motioning towards the door.

Scroll nodded and walked over to the cellar door, disappearing down the stairs. Quake watched him and then looked back at Tap.

“So you two’re still fucking?” he asked.

Tap rolled her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Sir?” asked Trigger Mark. “What about…” He looked down at the device. “This?”

Quake snorted. He raised his hoof over the table, ready to slam it down and smash the table and the teleporter to splinters. Tap winced, but Quake didn’t bring it down. Instead, he smiled a leery smile. “No,” he said, slowly lowering his hoof. “I won’t smash it,” he said. “We’ll gather them all up and set it up so that when the unicorns come, they’ll be right there, and we can shoot them all there before they fucking know where they are.” He chortled. “Monarch thinks he’s so fucking smart. He’ll see.” He looked at Tap. “We’ll get everypony in town looking for these. Round ‘em all up, maybe we can find the little horner bastard who’s hiding them and smash his fucking face in.”

Tap’s eyes wandered to the door. “Well, that sounds like a plan,” she said.

“That’ll delay the snow-clearing,” said Trigger Mark.

“Too bad,” said Quake. “We’ll have just have to put up with the cold for a while longer.”

“Uhh, sir?” asked the lieutenant. “I just have to wonder… even if we do collect them all…” Quake turned a glaring eye on him and he shrank a little. “Well, there’s still the possibility that they could overwhelm whoever’s there.”

“He’s right, sir,” said Trigger Mark. “We can’t have all the soldiers stationed on it at all times, and if they start coming in fast, we might not be able to react in time.”

Quake made a deep sound, as though thinking. “You’re right…” Then he smiled again. “I got a better idea. We won’t need bullets.”

Trigger Mark, Tap, and the lieutenant exchanged glances. Quake continued, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction.

“We hang ‘em all high. Let them come in and then fall to the ground and then…” He slammed his hoof down on the table, smashing it to splinters and rattling the tavern around them.

___________

Scroll, water bucket in mouth, nodded politely to Tap, grimacing at the remains of the table. He walked out the door, careful not to spill any water. As his hooves crunched the snow, he stopped and realized that he didn’t need to get any water at all. He could have simply filled the bucket with snow and waited for it to melt.

At times like this, Scroll worried he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was.

Crunch, crunch, crunch went the snow beneath his hooves. He set down the bucket for a moment, catching his breath and watching the vapor chill in the air. He smiled and took a few more breaths, just watching the air freeze like a light smoke.

He bent down to pick up the bucket again, but his monocle fell in with a light splash. With a short sigh, he picked up the bucket. He didn’t really need the monocle to walk.

Though he did admit that it was harder to see. He squinted, trying to make his way through the town. This was the right way, he thought as he turned a corner. It looked familiar, at least. He hoped. He came to a dead end in an alley.

Oh, he thought. He looked down at the water bucket and the monocle inside it. Deciding to spare himself the trouble of trying to guess through his blurry vision, he set down the bucket and pulled the lens out by the cord fastening it to his neck. He roughly placed it back on his face and saw that he was, as he suspected, not on the right track.

“Stupid jerks always breaking my…” he mumbled, picking up the bucket and turning to walk back the way he came, this time with decent vision.

However, when he turned around, he bumped right into somepony. The bucket of water tipped and spilled all over a cloaked pony, soaking him in the front.

“Gah!” said the pony, jumping back. There was a bright spark, as a small crystalline device floated out from beneath the cloak. “Oh, no…” It shook in midair as the other pony cursed.

Scroll, however, had to take a moment to process what had just happened. “Uh…” Then it clicked. “You’re a unicorn!”

The pony stopped and stared at him. Beneath the hood of his cloak, Scroll could see a furious glare, as a gun floated out and pointed directly at his face.

All Scroll could do was say, “This has been a surprisingly shitty day so far…”

However, before the unicorn could pull the trigger, a voice called out. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Scroll and the unicorn both turned and saw Gunner standing at the entrance to the alley. As soon as the unicorn could aim his gun, Gunner’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit!”

BANG!

Gunner just barely managed to duck out of the way as the bullet hit a trash can. “We got a horner here!” he shouted.

“Shit!” spat the unicorn.

Scroll had, for a moment, considered running away, but a surge of magic grabbed him by his neck. He felt himself wrenched off of the ground, in front of the unicorn. The gun floated next to him, pointed at his head.

 

Soldiers began to pile in from behind Gunner, their guns pointed at the unicorn.

“Stay back!” said the unicorn, taking a slow step backwards. “One wrong move and this guy dies!”

The soldiers looked at him, then at Scroll, then at each other. None of them opened fire.

The unicorn looked at the entrance to the alley way, and then behind him. A dead end. No doors in the alleyway, either, just some rocks, snow, and bits of debris. He took a step back, dragging Scroll with him.

Trigger Mark stepped from behind the wall. “You’re surrounded!” he said. “Give yourself up!”

“P-please?” asked Scroll. “Please do as he says?”

“Shut it!” hissed the unicorn through gritted teeth. “You’ll just shoot me either way!”

Then the ground began to shake.

“What—” said the unicorn.

Scroll, however, knew what was coming. “At least I don’t have any more glasses to break…”

General Quake stepped into view behind the soldiers. He looked from them, over to the unicorn, then to Scroll, then to the soldiers again. “The fuck is this?” he asked.

“Unicorn, sir!” said the Lieutenant. “He has the missionary hostage!”

“No fucking shit,” said Quake. “I wouldn’t have figured that out from the horn and the gun pointed at the faggot’s head.” He looked over at the unicorn. “So!” He boomed. “You’re the asswipe who’s been planting shit!”

“Stay back!” said the unicorn, drawing backwards again. “One wrong move and I shoot.”

“Uh…” said Scroll, as he strained his neck to try to face his captor. “Mister?”

General Quake didn’t move from where he was, but slowly, slowly he tilted his head and a small smirk grew on his face.

“I really don’t think he cares.”

General Quake plodded through, the snow not even slowing his tracks. The unicorn’s eyes went wide and, fortunately for his hostage, he forgot to shoot him.

He backed up, dragging Scroll with him, looking around the alleyway for some way out. There were none. He looked back up at Quake, who was still advancing, and turned his gun on him.

Before he could pull the trigger, however, Quake slammed one of his feet back down on the ground, shaking the island. Snow and ice fell from the roof, an icicle nearly hitting Scroll in the shoulder. The unicorn, however, stumbled and lost his footing, dropping both Scroll and the gun.

Scroll hit a faceful of snow on the ground and barely saw as Quake swept past him. There was a shout. He turned his head and saw Quake rear up, lifting the unicorn into the air. Then he looked away and he heard a crunch, a squish, and the ground shook again.

When General Quake walked past him again, he left bloody hoofprints in the snow.

“Jackshit didn’t even shoot,” he said. “What a pussy.”

The soldiers dispersed slowly, as Quake barked orders. “Now find the shit he left behind! I want all of it found!”

Scroll pulled himself up and looked at the spent, shorted teleporter the unicorn had been using. Then he looked up at the soldiers, and his eyes focused on the sheepish, belittled Lieutenant. And then Brother Scroll got another idea.

“Hey!” he said, trotting after the Lieutenant. “Heeey, buddy!”

The Lieutenant blinked. “Uhh, yeah?”

Scroll carried the spent teleporter in his mouth. “I heard you had a bit of a unicorn problem, and I got an idea…”

___________

The water machine the earth ponies had taken from the unicorns was, fortunately, still chugging along. Two earth ponies stood by as it pumped hundreds of gallons of water into a giant pit in the mountain caves.

The lieutenant stood in between Tap and the general and the other soldiers, looking up at the ceiling. “We can hang them up there,” he explained. “Then when they attack, they’ll show up up there, and then they’ll fall in the water below.” He walked around the edge of the pit, looking at the other soldiers. “You can line up soldiers around here, pointing inwards. You’ll have the soldiers trapped.”

“Like shooting apples in a barrel,” said Tap, tilting her head admiringly.

“Well, uh…” said the Lieutenant. “No ‘shooting.’”

“We fucking get it already,” Quake grunted. “Take ‘em alive, trade ‘em for King Horner’s hostages.”

“Pretty much, yeah…” said the Lieutenant.

“And those foals get their parents back…” muttered Tap. “Sounds like a plan.”

Quake, meanwhile, just looked into the pit as the water poured in, his face as hard and unexpressive as stone. The Lieutenant looked at him; he hadn’t shot down the idea, but he was still worried…

Quake stepped up to the edge and turned around. “If they’re going to be here…” He bent his hind legs and squatted. “I don’t have to make it fucking cozy.”

There was a mighty crack of wind and the soldiers watched, many of them shuffling awkwardly, as General Quake shat and shat into the pit of water.

Tap cleared her throat. “Well…” she said. “I’m just wondering, don’t the unicorns have stuff that lets them teleport out? Not all of them, I guess, but still.”

Nopony answered. Gunner was still staring, open-mouthed, at Quake. Quake screwed his face as more wind broke from his ass.

“Well, uh…” said the Lieutenant at length. “That’s what the water’s for. The devices the, uh, horners have on them will short out.”

Quake finished his business and stood up. “Ughh…” he groaned. “Well, good work,” he said. “You said something that wasn’t fucking stupid. If this actually works maybe you’ll get promoted.”

“Really?” asked the Lieutenant, his face lighting up.

Quake didn’t answer, but just stormed out of the cave. The other soldiers piled out, leaving just Tap and the Lieutenant.

“He liked it…” said the Lieutenant. “He actually liked something I did! That’s never happened before!”

“Uh-huh…” said Tap, looking at him. “Was that your idea?”

The Lieutenant’s smile twitched. “Yes?”

Tap nodded. “Uh-huh. Well,” she said, looking at him. “Here’s hoping that promotion works.”

The Lieutenant walked out, singing a little to himself, with Tap following after him.

When she reached the edge of the cave, she stopped and sighed, looking back over the town.

“So did it work?” asked a voice.

Tap turned and saw Scroll hiding near the mouth of the cave.

“It hasn’t happened yet,” said Tap.

“I know,” said Scroll, stepping out of the shadows. “But is he using the idea?”

Tap sighed. “Yes.”

Scroll pumped his hoof in the air.

“So, you got a new idea and fed it to him?” asked Tap disbelievingly.

“Well…” said Scroll, pawing nervously at the ground, “he was in a better position than me.”

“He isn’t exactly Quake’s most trusted advisor,” said Tap.

“No,” said Scroll, “but…” He punctuated it with a hoof-movement. “He is part of Quake’s military circle. I’m not. Quake, well… really, really doesn’t like me and, uh… I don’t want my monocle broken.”

Tap tilted her head. “So you feed it to the guy most desperate for Quake’s approval and hoped the general would go for it?”

“Well,” said Scroll, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought the idea was good enough to stand.”

Tap chuckled. “That’s pretty Marechiavellian of you.”

Scroll blinked.

“Hey,” said Tap, turning down the path. “I read. Sometimes.”

The two of them walked down the mountain path. Scroll could look out and see what seemed such a jarring shift to him; there were the acres and acres of the island forest farmland, completely untouched by the attack, and then there was the town, snowed in like it had been the worst blizzard imaginable.

“Maybe they’ll be able to trade the hostages for White,” said Tap. “Maybe even the other missionary guy.” She nudged Scroll gently. “I’ll bet you’d like that.”

“I would,” said Scroll, nodding. He sighed. “I miss him a lot.”

“I miss him, too,” said Tap, looking up at the sky. “He always did make me smile. The other unicorn, less so.”

“Brother Shine?”

“Yeah,” Tap laughed. “I did not like him. He was just this… this spineless ass. Spineless and turned his nose up at everything, like he was better than everypony.” She paused for a thought. “I guess White also thought he was better than everypony, but… he wasn’t a dick. Ah well. I guess… they’re gone because Quake ran them off, so… Well, maybe he’s cooled down by now.”

Scroll stopped by the edge for a moment, looking at the whited-out town. Tap peered at him.

“So how’s the little monster you got?” asked Tap.

Scroll turned his head. “Huh?”

“The pegasus,” said Tap, cautiously looking back and forth along the path to make sure nopony was eavesdropping. “What did you think I was talking about?”

Scroll blushed a little and fidgeted with his monocle. “I think he’s doing okay. It wasn’t a problem when I had the foals over.”

Tap rolled her eyes and slouched forward in a sigh. “Yeah, keep that up.”

“Hey, it’s nice,” said Scroll defensively. “He told them a story—”

“What?” asked Tap, balking.

“From behind a curtain!” Scroll added rapidly. “They just thought he was bored!”

“I’m not going to ask you to explain,” said Tap, shaking her head, “I gave up on that a while ago. Just as long as this doesn’t get you killed, I guess that’s fine with me.”

“He’s just a kid, Tap,” said Scroll. “I just—”

“All right, already!” said Tap, walking past him and rolling her eyes. “Sheesh, Scroll, I don’t need a heartfelt speech. I just wanted to know if that was going okay. A simple ‘he hasn’t succeeded in murdering me yet’ would have been fine.”

“Sorry,” said Scroll, following after her.

They entered into the town. Ponies were scurrying about, soldier and civilian alike, turning over garbage cans, rocks, floorboards, and everything else that could hide something. Quake hadn’t wasted any time getting to work.

“Poor Quake,” said Tap, leaning against a wooden beam. “He just wanted some time to cool off and now he’s got all this to worry about. Clearing snow, finding unicorn beacons, attacking the pegasi tonight…”

“Huh?” asked Scroll, turning his head sharply. “What did you say?”

“Nothin’,” said Tap, resuming her walk without a look at him. “By the way, you got any cocoa at the library?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I thought Barrel would like it,” said Tap.

They approached the front door of her tavern, which was hanging open slightly, letting the glow of the fire show through the cracks. Barrel had gotten remarkably good at not burning the place down in the last few years, Tap was sometimes proud to think.

“If this idea of yours works, I’m gonna…” she said, thinking. “I dunno what I’ll do. Probably stare at you in shock.”

“I’ll probably be staring, too,” said Scroll, giggling a little. “I’ll come back later with some cocoa for Barrel. You gonna be opening the tavern soon?”

“Probably tomorrow morning,” said Tap, looking up. “I’ll probably get a lot of business.”

Scroll nodded. “Well, I’ll see you later, then. And thanks.”

Tap’s hoof had been on the door when she heard that. She looked back at him. “Thanks for what?”

“For being a friend,” said Scroll.

Tap looked at him for a moment. “Oh,” she said. “You’re welcome, I guess…”

And with that, she stepped inside and closed the door.

---

Chapter 33

Princess was a graceful sleeper. She awoke in the morning bright and ready to do anything. Of course, living as she did, she had relatively few obligations, doing mostly as she pleased.

 

Her hoofmaidens brushed her long mane as she judged herself in her bathroom mirror. They helped her into a fancy dress, full of frills and laces and things that may have been either gems or nicely cut glass, and she went out onto the terrace.

Princess’s room occupied the second-tallest tower on the Fortress. The tallest, of course, was reserved for her father the general. She often liked to stand on the balcony and look down over the stone walkways and paths outside, and then out over the vast sea.

With the clear skies, the sunlight illuminated the stone of the fortress. It was gray, dusty, and hot, the air just above the surface rippled in a haze. She always found it uncomfortable to walk on the hot stone. But then, that was what the litter was for.

It had been a long time since she’d seen any land, apart from small islands. There was the one small island that her father was at war with, but she had never seen it herself. Whenever they approached, she was escorted to a lower level of the Fortress. This was, her father said, to protect her from the earth pony cannons that might be aimed at the tower, where she may be vulnerable. Seeing sometimes that battlements and other towers were gone after a battle, destroyed by these cannons, she saw no reason to doubt her father.

 

She turned around and went back in from the balcony, and pondered what she’d do. Her father would be busy doing something that didn’t concern her.

 

She looked at herself in the mirror, tilting her head to see how she looked at different angles. “So,” she said, “how do I look?”

 

“Beautiful,” said one of the hoofmaidens.

 

“As always,” said the other.

 

“Yes,” said Princess, smirking. “As always.” Satisfied, she stood up. “That will be all for now. I will go join my father for breakfast.”

 

And with that, she made her way to the door out of her room. In the hallway outside there was an elevator, but she felt that she’d rather walk and take the stairs down. It was a long, marble staircase, with windows letting the light stream in. She mentioned at one point that stained glass would improve it. Her father had agreed, but they hadn’t quite gotten around to that yet.

 

Her father was entertaining some guests; the usual crowd, bedecked in their usual fineries and clothing. One of them, a stallion whose name she could never remember, kissed her hoof as usual.

 

“Princess, you are looking lovely today,” he said, mindful of her father’s watchful eye. Monarch, however, simply enjoyed his position from atop his throne at the head of the table.

 

The table was stocked in all manner of greens; fruits, vegetables, salads, grasses. One of them, a stallion in a monocle, spoke proudly.

 

“Of course,” he said, “it all comes from the hydroponics I run. I should like to thank General Monarch for his forward-thinking.” He raised a glass to Monarch, bowing his head deferentially. “It is thanks to you that our wonders are possible.” Princess saw her father give a satisfied smile.

 

Down at the other table sat the two missionaries, White and Shine. Neither of them seemed to be eating much; Shine merely stirred his salad around half-heartedly with his fork, while White simply stared down at it.

 

Princess regarded White; she noticed his cutie mark, a big gleaming smile, and found it a bit odd that White himself wasn’t smiling.

 

The gentlestalliony unicorn was talking about something, but after a point, Princess found that she had completely lost track of the conversation. The unicorn sitting across from her had such an enormously huge mouth that she had gotten too distracted to process what he was saying.

 

Thankfully, the other unicorn was talking mostly for his own benefit about his hydroponics and his “insulated agriculture,” as he called it, so he didn’t notice that Princess had zoned out, preferring to focus on her salad.

 

Well, she figured, the salad was good enough for the unicorn to be proud of it.

 

As she finished her salad and daintily patted her muzzle with a napkin, she looked over at the missionaries again. Neither of them had touched their food, and White was mumbling something to Shine. Shine, however, saw Princess looking at them and roughly tapped White on the shoulder. White looked at her with a start, and then returned to his salad. Which is to say that he stared at his salad and didn’t touch it. Princess narrowed her eyes and looked at her father. Monarch didn’t seem to have noticed, already engaged in a conversation about marble or something.

After the breakfast, she cordially greeted each of her father’s guests. They all bowed in turn, some of them asking to kiss her hooves. Everyone except for the missionaries, who were muttering to each other about their own business. As one fop fawned over her, she heard White asking someone out of the corner of her ear.

“He’s a little pink colt with scars. You’d know him in a second if you saw him. I just want—”

She turned to look at him. He was talking with a soldier and a businesspony, neither of whom seemed particularly interested in what he was saying.

“Well, I’ll keep an eye out for him,” said the soldier, shrugging in a manner that suggested he probably wouldn’t.

“Look, I’ve been worried—”

“Brother White,” boomed the voice of her father. “You haven’t greeted my daughter yet!”

White stopped in his conversation and looked at the general. “I…” he said. Then, in seeming reluctance, he turned to Princess, nodded politely, and said. “Good day.” Then he turned to the guard. “Look, I just need to see the foals, wherever it is you keep them.”

“Brother White,” sighed Monarch. “You do not work with the foals. They are not your concern. In any case, this is not the time to accost us with your concerns.”

“I want—” White started.

“If the foal is of that much concern to you, then trust us when we say we will look for him and tell you when we find something out.”

White stood and looked at him. His face did not betray a feeling of reassurance.

Princess decided that this was the time for diplomacy. “Brother White,” she said, approaching him graciously. “You must trust we are not deaf to your concerns. I will help to see it myself if I can.”

“Right,” said White. “If you can.” He turned to look at Shine, before turning to the others. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse us. We have work to do.”

“You are excused,” said Monarch.

Princess watched as White and Shine left the hall. How peculiar their behavior, she thought. It must be an Equestrian thing. She looked to her father and saw him smiling to himself as he watched them leave.

___________

 

The upper levels of the Fortress were a veritable promenade of ponies on parade in their fine clothes, walking through halls of marble and granite.

 

One short unicorn in an expensive suit and tie bowed to her. “Your majesty!” he exclaimed. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?”

 

“Merely a whim,” said Princess, smiling.

 

“Well, we are delighted to see you here.”

 

Princess nodded and walked past. She looked through a few windows. One window was a jewelers, another had a pony behind a counter shuffling papers. All of them stopped what they were doing and bowed their heads.

 

“But we don’t have any books,” she heard a voice say. Her ears pricked up. Brother Shine.

 

“No, we don’t,” said Brother White’s voice. It was high and energetic, but shaky. “But we got something else.”

 

Princess turned around. She saw the two missionaries, White and Shine, standing at the other end of the walkway. White was floating a pamphlet in from of Shine’s face.

 

“‘Pearly’s Earlies’?” asked Shine, his face screwed in confusion.

 

“They’re little simple things for ponies to read when they wake up.” White began walking. “It’s a simple message, and the idea is that the pony reads it and tries to apply it throughout the day.”

 

“The name’s still odd.”

 

“Well, it was that or ‘White at Night,’” said White, “and I don’t think that’d work as well.” He stopped and turned around. “Or maybe it could be ‘Time for a Shine’?” Shine made a face, which White didn’t notice. “I actually think I could come up with a number of—”

 

“No,” said Shine, rolling his eyes, “I think I’m good with Pearly’s Earlies. We’ll just see that they all think of—”

 

“I did not expect to see you two up here,” said Princess. Both of the missionaries stopped and turned around, staring at her. “Don’t all ask to kiss my hoof at once.”

 

“Well, I wasn’t…” mumbled White.

“And what do we have here?” asked Princess, peering at the pamphlet floating by White’s side. “Oh, do let me have a look.”

And without waiting for a word of welcome or protest from Brother White, her horn lit up and she floated the pamphlet in front of her. “‘Pearly’s Earlies’,” she read. There was drawing on it—simple black and white, drawn with little more than a quill, and little skill besides. “Oh, isn’t this dear,” she said, as she read, “Everypony sometimes has a lot they have to deal with. Sometimes we see them and we wonder ‘should I do something?’” She turned a few pages. “So whenever you see another pony in need, don’t hesitate to ask how you can help!” She looked up at White. “Now, that is something, Pearly.” She smiled. “I can call you Pearly, right? That’s your name?”

White didn’t respond.

“It’s quaint, really,” said Princess, floating the pamphlet back to him. “Though I don’t know how the others will feel. I suppose it’s something we can all apply.”

“Come on, White,” said Shine, walking on. “We have something to—”

Princess placed a hoof in front of him, stopping him. “I wasn’t finished, Shine,” she said.

Shine balked and took a step backward, his gaze switching back and forth between White and Princess.

She looked back at White. “You know, I’ve been thinking about how much fun we had at that slumber party,” she said, smirking at him. “About our little game.”

White looked at her, his face a hard, blank gaze.

“I was just wondering,” said Princess, tapping her chin with her hoof. “Who is it?” she asked.

White stood there for a moment. Not answering, he looked at her with that flat, blank stare. “What do you mean?” he asked at length.

“What do I mean?” asked Princess. “I want to know who it is that you hate?” She smiled. “Is it me?” She laughed. “No, you just met me. Perhaps it’s someone from the island. Or perhaps my father?”

White didn’t answer.

“Well?” she asked, her smile faltering just a little. “Say something,” she said, her voice a little harder.

“I don’t hate anypony,” said White quietly.

Princess threw up her hoof and laughed. “Oh, White, you’re adorable,” she said, casting a dismissive wave of her hoof. “What other lies do you tell yourself?” she asked. She looked back at the pamphlets. “Oh, do you tell yourself that maybe those little pieces of paper will make a difference?”

White took a breath and said, in a flat, measured tone, “Is there something I can do for you?”

Princess narrowed her eyes. “I expect you could be a little more deferential to your hosts. My father, after all, did save your life a few times. As he did yours, Shine.” Shine, however, still didn’t answer. “After all, don’t you bow to your princesses in Equestria?”

“You’re not my princess,” said White. “Sorry.”

Princess stood there and looked at him. Then, she said. “You’re lying,” she said, “when you said you don’t hate anypony.”

“Why?” asked White. “Because of a rock?”

Princess smiled. “There’s the stone,” she said, nodding. “There’s also the way you… regarded the stone.” White gave a grimace, and she smirked again. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Speaking of that game,” said White. “I believe I gave you a dare.”

“I…” Princess paused.

“Do tell me how it works out when you’ve done it,” he said. Seizing an opening, he walked past her. “Come on, Shine,” he said.

And Princess stood there, watching after him. “I am your princess!” she yelled after them. “You will recognize me!”

___________

Princess believed, as she had learned as a filly, that bigger was always better. Her father had taught her that, and his throne room was a testament to that philosophy—ceilings so high a pegasus could dive-bomb from the ceiling, and great black granite throne at the end of the hall, with another, slightly smaller seat for herself. Truly, the throne room was a testament to General Monarch’s might and authority. And General Monarch filled his throne, and the hallway with his resplendent, royal regalness. He was tall, powerful, firm, and imposing even when seated.

He did not notice her as she entered the throne room, as he was discussing something with a soldier. The conversation, however, ended before Princess was in earshot. That didn’t bother her, however; she had little interest in those affairs.

As the soldier left, Monarch noticed her. “And what brings you here?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Princess, tossing her head and taking her seat next to him. “Nothing compels me to come here. I am a princess, and I come here of my own volition.”

Monarch smiled. “Good to see you taking your own initiative,” he said. “It shows the kind of backbone a ruler requires.”

“As I hope I do,” she said.

She looked down the hallway. The room was so long, and their thrones so high, that it forced a pony seeking audience to walk all the way, the thrones looming over them in the process. A simple psychological tactic, and something of a cliché, but nevertheless effective.

“I am curious,” said Princess, after a pause. “About the stone I used for my slumber party with Brother White.”

“Ahh,” said Monarch, smirking. He turned to face her, looking down at her. His throne was elevated a noticeable amount above hers. “You wonder if it was real; if it truly did reveal a lie.”

 

Princess nodded, and Monarch returned to his forward-facing position.

 

“Oh, the stone is real. Truth and lies are very distinct, most of the time. But really, it doesn’t even matter. I could have been a fake and it would accomplish the same thing.”

 

“Oh?” asked Princess. “And what is that?”

 

“Ponies like Brother White,” said General Monarch, “like to tell lies to themselves. They like to lie about themselves. Brother White has a conceit drawn up that he’s noble and selfless and all-loving to everypony. The kind of pony who says he’ll accept you as a true friend no matter what you do to him. To someone like that, the notion that they’re capable of hatred, an emotion they hold as the most evil concept in existence, is almost unbearable.”

 

“He sounds quite pompous if he truly believes that,” said Princess, puffing herself up.

 

Monarch chuckled. “You should have seen him before he arrived. Ponies like him try so hard to be strong, but they’re no less breakable than anyone else. For someone like Brother White, we confront him with a lie.”

 

“And then what does he do?”

 

“He buries it. Tries to suppress it, to forget about it. It’s nothing new; he’s done it to himself for a while. But after a while it gets harder to put from his mind. The stone is merely a tool of confrontation.” He stood from his seat and began to walk down the hall. “Of course, it needn’t have been true. Sometimes, you only need to present them the possibility that they’re wrong, and it all begins to crumble.”

Princess nodded, pondering it for a moment. “How extraordinary,” she said, “not only do we have weapons that can break the body, but the mind as well. A diverse arsenal, indeed.”

The doors at the end of the hallway opened, and two soldier entered. A smile grew on Princess’s face as she watched them walk down the long walkway, and she recognized one of them.

“Aq,” she said, rising from her seat and taking long, grand steps down to the floor, “I’m delighted to see you.”

“You are beautiful as ever, Princess,” said Aq. He approached her, bowed his head, took her hoof, and gently kissed it.

The other guard walked over and whispered something to Monarch, who nodded.

“Daughter dearest,” said Monarch, “I have business to attend to.”

“We will escort you, sire,” said the soldier.

“No need,” said Monarch, stepping down from his throne, “I have no need of escorts.”

“Understood, sire.” He turned to Princess and nodded politely.

General Monarch left, taking long strides down the hall. The other soldier, clearly having nothing better to do, followed slowly after. Aq, however, remained.

“I hope that you won’t say you don’t require my company,” he said, laughing slightly.

Princess raised her hoof to her face and chortled into it. “Why, Aq, I would never. In fact…” She raised a hoof to her mouth in a coy grin. “I had an idea of something you could do for me.”

___________

Princess didn’t say much as she progressed down the stairways. White had given her a dare. Stupid as it was, it wouldn’t become of her to not do it. And it wouldn’t take much effort.

She’d chosen Aq to accompany her. He was more familiar with the earth ponies, she reasoned, having faced them in combat. He was a loyal guard, and she enjoyed his company.

“Your Highness, are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, leading her down the stairs. “I don’t think you’ll enjoy your time down here.”

“Oh, I’m not concerned,” she said. “Simply entertaining Brother White’s dare.”

“His what?”

“Oh, simply a game,” she explained. “He wanted me to pay a visit to the earth ponies.” She paused. “What is it exactly that they do?” She asked.

“Whatever we need them to do. For example, some of them tend to the hydroponics,” said Aq.

“Yes, I recall that.”

“And others we have working the assembly lines,” said Aq. He let out an amused chuckle. “We also have them manufacturing our munitions. I like the irony there.”

Princess smiled. “Yes, I agree.”

“They’re mostly here on the lower levels,” said Aq, explaining further. “We have them divided based on what they’re doing. Some of the higher-ups have stakes down here where they can use the labor for their own purposes. Once they’ve cleared it with the General.”

“That… sounds familiar,” said Princess. “I think White may have mentioned that at some point.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, he says that the earth ponies have a large forest on their island. That’s how they grow their food and build their houses.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Aq, in a listless, dismissive tone.

They came up to a stone door, guarded by two soldiers who straightened their posture at her appearance.

“Your highness!” said one of them. “We didn’t expect you today!”

“You may be forgiven for your lack of expectance,” said Princess, careful to choose the biggest words she could think of. She even made a note to herself check whether expectance was indeed a word. “I merely wished to see the workers.”

The guards exchanged a nervous glance.

“Well?” asked Princess, tapping her hoof on the floor. “Open the door, if you please.”

The guard sighed and opened the door. Aq stepped in front of Princess.

“Let me go first,” he said. “I feel it only proper.”

Princess nodded. She looked at his demeanor; he seemed uneasy here. His eyes kept darting around, and his body was more tense.

“Does something trouble you?” she asked.

He looked at her and paused for a moment before he answered. “Your highness, I am simply… concerned. I do not think this is a suitable place for you to be.”

Princess noted that. The stone around her was not of marble or granite. Just… rock. Perhaps the kind of rock had a name; she could just imagine White saying something about his friend Scroll around now. “I see…”

“I do not presume to impose upon you, you understand,” said Aq, raising a cautious hoof. “Just… that’s my opinion. Your decision is yours to make.”

She smiled. “Thank you,” she said, nodding her head politely, “but I’ve made my decision.”

Aq straightened up. “Understood,” he said. “Just… I request you let me lead you. If things turn… unsavoury, I suggest you run.”

He led her through the door and onto a metal scaffolding. Before them was a massive chamber, below them a configuration of tables where earth ponies sat, eating what appeared to be rejects from the hydroponics. Princess first noticed the metal scaffolding, steel beams and chainlink. Not many structures in the upper levels were made of metal unless it was decorative or part of the machinery. Most of what she was familiar with had been masterfully chiseled.

She looked over the edge down at the crowd. “So these are the earth ponies,” she said. “I wonder what White wanted me to see.”

“Excuse me?” asked Aq.

“Nothing, nothing,” said Princess, making a shooing motion with her hoof. “Could we go down?” she asked. “Get closer?”

Aq’s eyes flitted to the door for just a moment before he looked back at Princess. “Yes, your highness,” he said.

Aq led her to an elevator, and they went down to the floor below. Some of the earth ponies looked up at them, but they mostly continued going about their meals. As the elevator door opened on the bottom, Princess felt a twinge of annoyance that they didn’t notice her more. A cacophony of noises met her ears as she heard fragments of the ponies’ conversations.

“…tastes awful. I swear I’d rather eat dirt…”

“‘Scuse me, I need to piss.”

“…I actually miss General Quake. He was funny.”

Princess looked to Aq. “Stay close to me,” he said, keeping himself huddled next to her.

“Hey!” called a voice. “We haven’t had a lady horner down here before!”

The other earth ponies turned to look at her. The room got quiet, and then they started to murmur, and the murmuring got louder.

Aq signalled to the guards above with his hoof, and they moved. “Princess, I advise we get somewhere safer.”

“Hey!” shouted one earth pony. “Haven’t seen any mare horners before.”

“Yeah, thought you’d have cunts on your foreheads!”

The jeers rose and Princess froze.

“Princess! Princess!” Aq called. “Move!”

Princess, for perhaps the first time in her life, didn’t know what was going on.

“Princess!” Aq shouted again.

She followed as the jeering filled her ears. Aq looked up at the rafters. “I need increased guard oversight!” he called, brandishing his rifle with his magic. Aq led her out a door into a vacant hallway. She could still hear shouts and jeers from the other room, but only dimly.

“Are you alright?” asked Aq.

“I’m… I’m fine, thank you,” said Princess, shaking her head. “That was… unsettling.”

“We’re lucky they didn’t try worse,” said Aq. “I would also suggest, with respect, that you don’t tell them you’re the general’s daughter. They… would not respond well to that.”

“I see…” said Princess. “Well, is that all?”

“No,” said Aq, leading her down the hall. “We have more places carved out for them,” he said. “Different work areas and the living quarters.”

“Well,” she said, “can you show me?”

Aq paused. “Yes,” he said eventually. “Right this way.”

___________

“This is one of the hydroponics rooms,” said Aq, opening a door.

Princess stepped through, into a large room with a high ceiling. Across the floor were long tables in rows, vats of water with plants growing in them. There were a few earth ponies milling around, not seeming to have noticed them, absorbed in their work. Though whether they were genuinely interested in doing it or simply pressed their by the guards—big burly unicorns wielding batons that sparked and crackled—was anypony’s guess.

“This is where they grow all of our food?” asked Princess, walking over to one of the tables. She inspected a tray filled with growing cabbage, smiled, and turned to the beat-red earth pony mare in attendance. “You’ve done an admirable job,” she said. “I heartily commend you on the successful fruits of your efforts.”

“Fuck you, lady,” said the mare. She moved on, and Princess was left there for a few seconds to process the remark.

After a pause, she turned to Aq. “These… earth ponies have very coarse language, don’t they?”

“She will be reprimanded, I assure you,” said Aq.

“That will not be necessary,” said Princess, waving a hoof. “I am above such pettiness. Please, let’s continue the tour.”

Aq nodded and led her to the door.

More guards lined the halls. Aq seemed relieved, but Princess found the scenery was starting to cramp on her. It didn’t help that the halls were narrow and they often had to push past earth ponies who were going to whatever it was they were doing, all the while shooting toxic glares at the unicorns.

“These earth ponies are exceedingly rude,” said Princess. “You there!” She said to a passing earth pony who walked with a slight slouch. “You should straighten up your posture. Walking around as such will only make your back worse.”

The earth pony stared at her. He didn’t seem old, though the years did not look kind to him. He walked with a limp and a sullen face, making him look tired and worn-out.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

Princess cleared her throat before continuing, “I merely think that improving your posture would be highly beneficial. It would improve your—”

“If I wanted some horner twat to talk at me about what I do with myself, I’d go to White,” he said.

Aq stepped up to him. “You will not interrupt her!” he said, raising his rifle up just a little. The earth pony, to Princess’s surprise, widened his eyes and, to her slight satisfaction, drew himself up.

“You!” he said. “You’re that bastard!”

“I always find myself hoping I don’t run into you ponies again,” said Aq in a flat voice.

Princess looked between the two ponies. One of them a dignified, upstanding unicorn, and the other was a scraggly brown earth pony who really needed a shower. “Are you two familiar with each other?” she asked.

“We’ve met, once,” said Aq, shrugging.

“You’re the bastard who dragged me here!” said the earth pony.

“Right, right, Mr. Walrus?” asked Aq.

“Carpenter!”

Princess regarded him. “You are this pony’s captor?” Aq nodded. Princess turned to Carpenter. “Has he mistreated you in any fashion?”

Carpenter stared at her, not responding.

Poor thing, thought Princess, he must not have understood the question. “Has Aq mishandled you during your intermittence here?” she asked again, very slowly.

Carpenter stared again for a moment. “What do you think?” he asked.

Princess shook her head. “I’m afraid that that is not an adequate answer,” she said.

His mouth made shapes without words for a few seconds, before finally straining a coherent sentence. “What’s your problem?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nopony talks like that.” said Carpenter. He seemed to sputter a little. “You talk like some kind of, of…”

“Kind of what, earth pony?” asked Aq, his mouth drawn in a snarl.

“Hey, fuck you.”

“Oh, how original,” said Aq. “If I had a coin for every time one of you mud-crawlers said that, I’d be one rich unicorn.” He smirked.

“You scumsucking piece of—”

“Silence!” said Princess. “Both of you!”

Carpenter, however, wasn’t about to stop. He whirled around at her. “What gives you the right to tell me what to do? You swoop in, steal me from my home, and put me on a damn conveyor belt!”

“I understand your concerns,” said Princess, “you have to understand, nothing is pleasant in war—”

“Who are you, anyway?” asked Carpenter. “Is this some kind of joke? Thought you weren’t shit enough, so you decided to come dick around with us some more?”

“I don’t think I like your attitude,” said Aq. “It’s extremely rude.”

“Yes,” said Princess, speaking up. She stepped between the two of them, facing Carpenter. “Your behavior is flatly inexcusable,” she said. “I want you to apologize to Mister Aq right now.”

Carpenter glared at her with a look of seething contempt. And then, almost so fast that Princess couldn’t follow what was happening, he drew back his head and spat in her face.

She shrieked and drew back as Aq leapt forward and swung the blunt end of his rifle across Carpenter’s face.

Princess heard somepony shouting, and then more ponies shouting. It began to overwhelm her, like in the cafeteria. There was shouting. Some clamor, unicorns raising their hooves, earth ponies throwing kicks. She felt herself shrinking, trying to shirk away from the chaos.

“Princess!” said Aq, ducking underneath the swarm of angry earth ponies and baton-wielding unicorns to reach her. “Follow me!”

He took her hoof and led her out, down the hallways, and through a door.

“Are you alright?” asked Aq.

“I… I think so,” said Princess, nodding. She looked up, and saw that they were not alone in the room. She saw a desk, with two ponies seated. On one side was another earth pony, a thin grey one that she didn’t recognize, and sitting behind the desk was Brother White.

“What’s going on?” asked Brother White.

“Probably a riot,” said the earth pony in a casually detached tone of voice.

Princess shook her head. “Aq, a hoofkerchief, if you please,” she said.

Aq obliged, and Princess began to dust herself off with it.

“Well,” she said, “I do believe I’ve held up my end of our little game.”

“And did you learn anything?” asked White.

Princess peered at him. He seemed expectant.

“Only that the earth ponies here are extremely rude, crude, boorish, impolite, utterly lacking in any manner of courtesy—”

“Those are all synonyms,” said White.

“I should tell you that I am not accustomed to having crass remarks about… private parts on my head, or being spat in the face.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” said the earth pony.

White’s face sank a little, as though he were disappointed. “Well then,” he said. “I guess you didn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Princess. “What was I supposed to learn?”

White shrugged. “Maybe you’d stop and wonder why they spat at you.”

“I cannot even begin to tell you how much this conversation is boring me,” said Aq, cutting in loudly. He eyed the desk. “What are you doing, exactly?”

Princess looked at the desk and took a step forward. There seemed to be a sheet of paper there. No, a diagram of a colossal machine.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s, uh… blueprints,” said White.

“Blueprints,” repeated Aq. “Of…?”

“Of…” White nodded his head and his mouth tucked into a corner. “Theeeee machinery. That you have them working. So…” He looked over at the earth pony. “That he knows what he’s doing.” The earth pony nodded.

“I mean,” the earth pony added, “you don’t even tell us what we’re doing all the time. So Brother White here is just sort of helping us so we can do our jobs better.”

Princess smiled. “Well, that seems like a good job. I will have to give credit where credit is do, Brother Pearly White.”

“Your name is Pearly?” asked the earth pony in a dubious voice.

Aq, however, didn’t change his expression. Not for a moment, at least, then his mouth turned to a slight smirk. “So they can do their work better, right?” he asked.

White looked him dead in the face. “Yes,” he said flatly.

“I see…” Aq turned around and took a few paces. Then his rifle floated before him, and he turned around. The earth pony’s eyes shot wide as the rifle’s barrel bored down at him.

BANG!

Princess shrieked. So did Brother White, and it was impossible to tell the two voices apart. The earth pony fell to the floor, gasping as Aq lowered his rifle.

“Duster!” shouted White, jumping to the floor. Duster heaved for breath, bleeding onto the floor.

There was a sound of hoofsteps, and the door behind the desk opened. Brother Shine came charging in.

“What happened?” asked Shine. “I heard a gunsho- Fuck!” He shouted.

“Shine, send for a doctor or something!” said White. His horn lit up, and Duster’s breathing seemed to ease. “Hold still. Don’t move…”

“Look at me, White,” said Aq. White looked up at him.

“I’m not stupid,” he said. “Let me guess what you were really doing: sabotage. Is that right?”

White didn’t answer, he just looked back down at Duster, while Shine ran out the door.

“I don’t think you appreciate just how much we indulge you,” said Aq. “You could stand to be a little grateful. Maybe say thank you once in a while.”

“Shut up!” snapped White.

“It’s funny!” barked Aq, making White flinch. “You know, you’re not supposed to point a gun at somepony unless you mean to kill them. That kind of wound shot I just did there? I’m not supposed to do that.” He fondly eyed his rifle. “But you know, I don’t really care.”

“Aq…” said Princess. She’d shrunk back, and her voice was soft. “That wasn’t—”

“With all due respect, Princess,” said Aq, “I would ask you to defer to my position. I’ve dealt with these ponies before.”

Shine came running back into the room. “I don’t know how long they’ll take to get here, but I got bandages.”

“I’ve got him still,” said White. “It’s a little numbing spell I have, just get the—”

“You’re not listening, White,” said Aq. White stopped, as Aq pointed the gun at Duster’s head. “Get up, or I actually decide to handle a gun properly.”

White quietly stood up, his eyes locked on him.

“Now, as I was saying,” said Aq, “we’re keeping a close eye on you. You might think you’re being noble by teaching them how to sabotage our machinery. But!” He prodded Duster’s head with the barrel of his rifle, making him giggle slightly. “If we find out that any sabotage actually happens, we’ll kill whoever’s responsible. General Monarch might indulge you, but we will not indulge the prisoners.”

“You’re a sociopath,” said Shine, trying to wrap the bandages around Duster’s chest.

“Oh, please,” said Aq, rolling his eyes. “Princess had just been able to get a good look at how the earth ponies conduct themselves. I’m sure she would’ve seen more if we hadn’t been there to protect her.”

“What, you expect them to grovel after you bomb their town and steal their family members?” asked Shine.

“Do you know what they do to foals, Princess?” asked Aq. “Pegasus foals?”

White sank into his seat.

“I’ve seen it,” said Aq, before looking back at White. “They mutilate them. They cut their wings off and burn the marks on their flanks.” He turned back to Princess. “You should have seen the scars.”

White sat in the chair, seemingly despairing. Aq had a hard, stone-faced, almost indignant look. Shine was harder to read. He seemed to be looking at Aq, completely dumbstruck.

Princess’s face, meanwhile, had turned to a look of abject disgust. “You…” she looked at White. “These are the ponies you defend? You want me to feel pity for these monsters?”

White sighed. “I… I only…” Then, something in his face changed. “Wait. Wait a minute…” He got out of his seat and looked at Aq. “How do you know about Clip?”

Aq was silent as White walked up to him.

“I’ve been looking for him since I got here. The guys running the foal labor have been very tight-mouthed. I couldn’t find anything. And every time I asked about it I got more non-answers before you either stuck me in my ‘job’ or, or something else.”

“You’ve told us plenty about him,” said Aq simply. “I just—”

“Don’t lie!” Snapped White. “Talking about how you should’ve seen the scars,” he continued, his eyes wide. “Like you know. Like you’ve seen them.”

“Oh, our missionary is a little detective,” said Aq, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure if he’d applied himself earlier he might’ve found him by now.”

“Where is he?!” shouted White. “You know where he is! Tell me where he is!”

“You killed him,” Shine said quietly. A hush fell across the room. White slowly turned to face him. “Little pink colt, right?” he asked. “I saw it. Middle of the night, I was out on that fucking terrace, and I saw him, him and some other guy, and they pushed him over the edge.”

White slowly turned to face Aq. Aq’s face was unchanged.

Princess hadn’t had much to say in this conversation thus far. After all, they were talking about things she knew nothing about. But this much, she understood.

“You murdered him,” said White in a hushed voice.

“Oops,” said Aq.

“You…” she said, looking at Aq. “You didn’t. You couldn’t have done that.”

“I do a lot of things you wouldn’t find pleasant, Princess,” said Aq. His voice was softer, speaking to her. “Consider what I did a mercy to the little thing. Can’t imagine a pegasus can do much if it can’t fly.”

“You…” said White, his voice shaking.

“You are going to remember your place,” said Aq, turning back to White. “So I suggest you stop getting ideas and get back in line.” He nodded to Duster, who was still being attended by Shine. “Just like the earth ponies you’ve been teaching how to sabotage.” He looked back to Princess. “You should get back to your tower. The doorway over there,” he said, nodding to the door behind White’s desk, “will lead you away from the workers’ area. In the meantime I have to make sure their riot won’t have lasting damage.”

With that, he turned and left, exiting into the hall they had entered from, just as a unicorn physician entered from behind White’s desk. Satisfied that Duster would be attended to, Princess looked back to White, he was still shaking.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I… I had no idea. If I had known, I’d be…”

But White wasn’t answering. His teeth were clenched, and his knees were shaking.

“Brother White?” she asked. “Pearly? Are you—”

“Aq,” he said.

She was silent.

“Aq!” White said again, but this time, he rocketed past Princess, to the door.

“White!” she yelled.

“What are you doing?” called Shine.

“Aq!” White shouted, clearing the doorway.

Princess and Shine exchanged a glance. The physician looked up from his patient, from Princess, to Shine, and then said, “Did I miss something?”

“Beats me…” slurred Duster. “I’ve been kinda out of it this entire conversation.”

“This is bad,” said Shine.

Then, Shine and Princess took off through the doorway, back into the hall.

The earth ponies had mostly cleared out. The unicorn guards were brandishing rifles and stun prods, herding them into lines and down the hallways and through doors, back to their quarters, or to work, or perhaps the detention areas. Princess wasn’t completely sure.

White, however, was tearing down the hall.

“Aq!” he screamed, “get back here!”

“White, wait!” called Princess, chasing out after him.

They chased him, but he didn’t seem to notice. They followed him around the corner, where Aq was talking with a few other guards and didn’t notice him at first.

“I’m not finished, Aq!” shouted White. This appeared to get Aq’s attention.

“I heard you the first time, White,” said Aq, rolling his eyes dismissively.

White, a rage in his eyes, charged up to him. “You lying, vile, evil—” He raised a hoof to strike him, but Aq instantly clocked him over the head with the butt of his rifle.

The other guards started to raise their weapons, but Aq raised a hoof. “Leave him,” he said lazily, watching as White stumbled, nearly falling over, but he held himself up against the wall.

“Stop!” called Princess. “I order you to stop! I am your Princess, and you will obey!”

“Understood!” said Aq. White looked over at him. There was a small purple mark on his forehead. “I’m not fighting,” he said. “But if you try to strike me, I will defend myself.”

“Raagh!” shouted White, lunging again, but Aq moved out of the way and threw him to the floor.

“What are you trying to do, exactly?” asked Aq. “You’re a missionary. I’m a soldier. You don’t know how fighting works. Even if you did, I don’t think you’re body is fit for it.”

“White,” said Shine, “it’s not worth it.”

White slowly got up, his knees shaking, and he looked up at Aq. His eyes were wide and almost red with rage.

“Is that all?” asked Aq, smirking. “Are you going to take the gracious advice of our Princess and fellow missionary? Or do you have more stage combat you’d like to show us.”

White didn’t answer. His horn, however, flashed up in a glow of light. Aq and the other soldiers seemed briefly surprised. One of them let out a quick gasp.

But then, Aq started laughing. “Oh, I have to see this. What are you going to do with your magic, White?” he asked. “Brighten my smile?”

The other soldiers joined in, laughing, as Princess and Shine shared a nervous, confused glance. White, however, kept his stare dead on Aq.

“No,” he said in a voice as low as he could manage in his tenor. “I’m going to do this.”

Aq looked at him, slightly confused. Then, he raised a hoof to his jaw. “What are you—” But then he stopped. “Ah!” he yelped. “Ah! Ah!”

His hitherto regal posture slouched, as he clenched his hoof to his mouth. He began to clench it shut, his yelps of pain coming through his shut mouth.

White stared at him, his teeth gritted like a mad animal, his horn glowing a sickly glow as Aq began to writhe against the wall.

Then, there was a wet crack! as Aq screamed.

“RAAAARGHRHH!” he howled. His jaw seemed to flop open at a grotesque angle, as he sank against the wall, screaming and writhing like a broken dog.

Princess, Shine, the guards, and a few earth ponies all stared in horror. One of the earth ponies started cheering.

“I can do so much with this!” asked White. “You ever been to a dentist? There’s a reason they use anesthetics and spells so you don’t feel what they’re doing. I can do whatever I want with your mouth,” he said, walking over to the hunched body of the broken guard. “I can rip out your teeth, one by one. Or I can press down on them into your gums. Or I can, I can, I can… So…” he laughed sickly. “Yeah. You don’t want to talk about Clip? Then don’t talk.”

“White…” said a small voice.

White stopped, and looked around. Then Princess, Shine, and the others all looked to the source.

“White… please stop.”

It was a little pink colt with a blond mane, two scars on his back, and burns on his flanks.

It was Clip. And he looked up at White, sad and confused, with tears in his eyes.

“I forgive him.”

---

Chapter 34

Gunner stood in the cold snow outside of Tap’s tavern, his teeth chattering and breath freezing. “Gah, wish she’d open up and give us a drink,” he managed to complain through his shivvers.

“Gunner, we’re attacking tonight. In flying machines we haven’t touched before,” Trigger Mark said, gesturing back in the direction of the camp with a chiding glance. “We don’t want to get ourselves killed because we got drunk.”

“Yeah, well…” said Gunner. “What if we die anyways? Then I won’t be able to get a drink at all!”

Trigger Mark rolled his eyes. “If you die without a drink, I assure you I’ll take that guilt to my grave.”

The door opened. Tap emerged, wearing a scarf.

“Heeeeey!” said Gunner, waving a hoof. “You open for business?”

“Just need to run an errand,” said Tap. “Scroll didn’t give me back my bucket.”

“Ah, gotcha,” said Gunner, nodding. He looked at Trigger Mark. “If I die…” he warned.

Trigger Mark, however, inspected Tap. His eyes were drawn to her leg.

“Window shopping, Trigger Mark?” asked Tap, smirking at him.

“Just curious.” He raised his hoof and pointed at her leg, and the harness attached to it. “Why you decided to strap your gun to your leg.”

Gunner looked down to her legs. Well, he’d already been looking, but he noticed that Trigger Mark was right; she’d strapped her holster to her foreleg.

Tap, however, seemed unconcerned. “Hey, I’m a little on edge,” she said. “Just want to be ready in case some shit happens. The pegasi probably aren’t about to just turn around, but what if the unicorns decide to come over?” She waved her leg a little, showing the holster.

Trigger Mark nodded and Gunner shrugged. Seemed a good enough answer. Still, something about it bothered Trigger Mark, and he watched Tap as she walked down the snow-covered street.

___________

Scroll sat at his desk, examining the small object in front of him. The smooth, round, clear object. He could have almost mistaken it for quartz.

Eagle was still in his bed. The curtain had been pulled back. Scroll could be reasonably sure that nopony would come at this time, but he still kept an ear out for the sound of hoofsteps.

A tray sat next to Eagle’s bed, empty save for some crumbs. Eagle stared blankly at the wall; he hadn’t made a sound since Scroll had the foals over.

“That was a good story,” said Scroll.

Eagle grunted as he turned over in his bed. “Huh?” he asked, half annoyed, half bored.

“The one you told the foals,” said Scroll. “Do you tell stories often?”

“Oh,” said Eagle, looking back up at the ceiling. “No. Just something I pulled off of the top of my head.”

“Oh,” said Scroll, turning back to the thing on the desk. “Well, it was very good,” he said. “You have a nice way of words and you’re… well, I liked it. I thought it managed to evoke—”

“Just shut up,” Eagle groaned, putting a hoof to his face. “This is so fucking weird.”

“You’re telling me,” Scroll grumbled.

They were quiet for a moment. Scroll examined the thing on his desk, prodding it, weighing it, making notes on a sheet of parchment next to him. Eagle looked over at him, snorted, and then rolled back over on the bed.

Nothing happened for a while. Scroll knew that if Eagle were seen, it would not end well. Therefore, he had drawn the curtains almost completely shut, only letting a little light in through the windows, and was working mostly by candlelight at his desk. It was inconvenient, It was inconvenient, but the need for secrecy called for some compromises.

There was a sound of hoofsteps from outside. Scroll, as quickly as he could, tossed the small thing into a drawer and bolted over to Eagle to shut the curtains around him, drawing a deadpan narrowing of the eyes from Eagle.

“Scroll?” called Tap’s voice. “You in there?”

Scroll let out a loud sigh of relief. “Yeah!” he answered, walking over. “Hold on, lemme get the…” Tap opened the door and stepped inside. “…door.”

Tap stood there, looking at him like he had just made a very stupid comment at an important dinner party or something.

“Hi,” said Scroll, “something I can do for you?”

“The bucket?” asked Tap.

“The…” Scroll said. “Oh!” He turned around and walked to the corner. “Sure, let me get that for you! Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked…”

Tap walked over to the desk and saw the sheet of parchment, scribbled with notes.

“Between the hostage thing and the…” He turned around and stopped. “What are you looking at?”

“Teleportation device…” she read. “Lack of apparent activating mechanism.” She looked at Scroll. He stood there, the bucket hanging in his mouth by the handle. “Let me guess,” she said, pulling the drawer open. “Got it right.”

“Please don’t tell anyway,” said Scroll.

“Relax,” said Tap, taking the device out of the drawer, “I’m not gonna rat you out to the general or anything.” She inspected it. “So this is what they use to get over here.”

Scroll nodded. “They send one or two unicorns to plant them around the time, and then when it’s time to attack, well…”

“Stuck one of these in my toilet, didn’t they?” asked Tap, nodding as she put it on the desk. “I remember that. So.” She turned to Scroll, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why do you have one?”

“Well…” said Scroll, nervously pawing the floor with a hoof. “I got this one off of the unicorn that, well…” He went quiet for a moment. “I, uh, I think that this one goes the other way. If it’s activated, it’ll take the user back to the unicorn fortress.”

“Ahh,” said Tap, nodding. “So after he sets them up, he can get out of town. Or he would’ve if Quake hadn’t shown up.”

Scroll cringed.

She regarded him for a moment, and continued. “That doesn’t answer my question. Why did you…” She thought about it for a moment. “You’re…” she stared at him, wide-eyed in disbelief. “Are you actually thinking of trying to use it?”

He shrugged. “I think it’s activated by magic. I’m not sure, though. I might have to get it hooked up to some magic batteries or something to get it working. I’m not a unicorn, so I’m not sure exactly how—”

“Scroll, that’ll get you killed,” said Tap.

They were both silent for a moment. Scroll walked up slowly and placed the bucket on the desk.

“Is she gone yet?” asked Eagle from behind the curtain, in a bored voice.

“No,” said Tap.

“Oh,” said Eagle.

“Well, I don’t know if they’d shoot me on sight,” said Scroll, shrugging. “Maybe they’d want to know how I did it.” He was quiet for a moment. “I miss White,” he said, looking down. “I need him.”

Tap sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “We all do.” She paused. “Well, not all of us.” She looked back at Scroll and walked over to him. “I can see how much he means to you.”

Scroll looked up. “I need to know he’s alright. I want to see him and talk to him. And I want him to let me know that I’m doing everything right.”

Tap looked over at the curtain separating Eagle from the rest of the library. “Uh… huh. Well,” she said, putting a hoof on the bucket, “I’ll just take this back now.”

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” said Scroll. “Oh, and if you want a book or anything…”

Tap didn’t say anything, nor did she move for the door. She just looked at the curtain. “Actually,” she said, “I think I’d like to say hello.”

“Huh?”

She strolled over to the end of the room and tossed the curtain aside. “Hello,” she said, looking  cooly down at Eagle with the contemptuous look of someone seeing the inside of a clogged sewer pipe. “Remember me?”

Eagle rolled over and looked up at her, his expression dull, saggy-eyed. Then his expression quickly melted into a look of wide-eyed terror.

“Oh, good, he does,” she said, glancing at Scroll with a smirk. “How’re the wings treating you?”

“What the fuck do you want?” asked Eagle, inches his body to hug the wall a little closer.

“Just saying hi,” said Tap, grinning down at him.

“Tap?” asked Scroll. “I don’t think you’re helping.”

“Just a moment, Scroll,” she said, not taking her eyes off of Eagle. “So yeah. You remember our little tussle last time you guys came over? Well,” she laughed, “you tussled with Scroll, I just shot you.”

Eagle stared up at her, not saying a word, barely daring to breathe.

“I have a revolver here,” said Tap, lifting her leg. “Not much. Six shots. Not exactly enough to go charging into a fight, but enough to deal with someone trying to get into my hiding places.”

“Stop it, Tap!” said Scroll, his voice nearly cracking as he weakly stamped a hoof on the floor. “Please don’t threaten him.”

Tap didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look at Scroll at first, just looking Eagle silently in the eyes. Then she slowly lowered her leg. “I wasn’t threatening him,” she said, before turning to Scroll. “I just wanted to see what someone like him looks like when he stares down the barrel of a gun.” She walked across the room, before stopping at the door. “You know, a lot of the guys in town call you a pussy,” she said to Scroll.

“I noticed,” he said dryly.

“He’s more of one, though,” said Tap, nodding her head over to Eagle. “I mean… you don’t pick fights with ponies. You don’t like it. It’s not ‘cause you’re going to lose, it’s ‘cause you don’t like it. This guy, though? If he’s winning he’s all cocky. Hit him and he breaks down. He’s a pussy. Only difference is, he pretends he’s not.” With that parting thought, she opened the door and headed out.

___________

Gunner stared down at the dead pony in front of him. Next to him, a small bag on the ground, spilling apples into the melting snow.

“Gunner?” asked Trigger Mark, nudging him. “You okay?”

Gunner didn’t answer. He’d had to do it. Quake didn’t tolerate ponies stealing from the forest if it wasn’t their stake. They did it, they got shot. That was the rule. Sure, ponies could be dicks to each other on their own time, but they didn’t dick with the forest. Especially not Quake’s part of the forest, which was most of it.

A pony had stole, and Gunner had shot him.

“Gunner?” asked Trigger Mark again.

“Yeah,” said Gunner. He looked away from the body, his head shaking just a little; he didn’t want to see it again. The snow next to the body was still lily-white in some places. Sometimes there wasn’t as much blood as you thought there’d be. There was some, but it wasn’t everywhere. “I guess so.” He ran his hoof across his rifle, slowly putting it back into the harness on his back. “It’s just… kinda figured I wouldn’t start shooting anyone ‘till tonight, y’know? Supposed to be a couple more hours.”

“It happens,” said Trigger Mark. He paused for a moment, looking off in the direction of the beach.

Gunner didn’t notice what Trigger Mark was looking at. He stewed in his own thoughts, muddled with the wet apples in the snow. It wasn’t until he realized that Trigger Mark wasn’t saying anything that he spoke up again. “What is it?” he asked.

“I was just thinking,” said Trigger Mark, “that since we have some time, we should pay Brother Scroll a visit.”

___________

By the time Tap re-entered the bar, Barrel had almost finished sweeping and cleaning. At the moment he was doing his best to neatly arrange the chairs around the table, an effort that Tap appreciated but found ultimately pointless.

“Hey!” he said. “I think we’re ready to open up again.”

Tap smiled and looked over his work. She nodded, and placed the bucket under the counter. “Yes,” she said, “I think we are. Good job.”

“Thanks,” said Barrel, scooting over to the counter. “Did you get any books?”

“I…” Tap said. “Well, no. I was just getting the bucket back.”

“Oh,” said Barrel. He didn’t pout, nor did he sulk, but it was clear he was disappointed. “Well, maybe I can visit tomorrow.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Tap, anxiously eyeing the bandages around Barrel’s midsection.

Barrel noticed her concern. “I can walk,” he said. “’Sides, I haven’t gone to the beach in a while. I miss the seabirds.”

“The—” Tap started, before she noticed the stuffed seagull plush sitting on the mantle above the fireplace. She made a mental note that that might not be the best place for it. “Well, I guess there’s no harm in that…” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Just as long as you don’t strain yourself.”

“Nah,” he said, walking to the wall where the broom was leaning. “I’ll be fine.” He took the broom and began to walk across the tavern floor, to the door at the end. “Scroll’s got this one book he really likes. It’s called The Steadfast. He ever talk about it with you?”

“He’s mentioned it,” said Tap, shrugging.

“Well, it sounds cool,” said Barrel, as he opened the door to what had once been the mission room and walked inside. “It’s about…” he went, before his voice fell to an unintelligible muffle as he shut the door behind himself. This left Tap unable to hear what the book was about, and why Barrel had liked it so much..

She chuckled to herself a little, setting out some wooden cups on the counter, along with some bottles. As far as post-attack recovery went, this was going very well. She always liked it when her house didn’t burn down. It saved her the lost business and the necessity of getting favors.

After she had finished setting up, Barrel emerged from the room. “I mean, that takes balls, don’t you think?” he asked.

Tap laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t hear you from the other room.”

Barrel stopped and stared. “Oh…” He slapped himself in the face with a hoof. “That was dumb.”

“It’s alright,” said Tap, smiling. “Why don’t you open the door and tell everypony we’re open?”

Barrel nodded and walked over to the door. He threw it open, and bellowed out, “Hey everypony! We’re back in business!”

Tap heard a few joyous shouts from outside and looked up. Barrel backed out of the way and a small crowd of stallions entered. One of them, a soldier Tap recognized, strolled up to the counter.

“Heya, Tap,” he said. “We’re heading out tonight.” He winked at her. “Any chance I could get a goodbye kiss for luck?”

___________

White sat at the side of a dim, grey room. There were many rooms like it in the fortress. This was one of the medical rooms, though it was not up to the standards White had observed in Equestria. He thought back to his visits to the bright, cheery dentist offices as a foal and wished he were home again.

He didn’t say anything. He just sat, slouched against the wall. Clip looked at him, waiting for him to say something.

Duster was on a gurney, a surgeon tending to him, while Shine paced back and forth.

“Gunshots,” said the surgeon. “I usually like to have a little forewarning about these.”

“Hey, it’s not our fault,” said Shine. “Luckily that bastard got a taste of his own medicine, eh White?” He smiled at White, but White just looked at him with a dead expression. Shine’s smile faltered and he backed off. “Well… Nevermind. Sorry.”

Duster managed to slur together enough of a sentence. “So you gonna get this thing out of me or not?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” said the surgeon. “Trying to remove the bullet would only make things worse. No, the body will heal. We just need to stop the bleeding and—”

“I think your talents would be better spent elsewhere,” said a voice.

They all turned and saw General Monarch.

“Your highness!” said the surgeon, surprised.

“One of my soldiers is lying in bed with a shattered jaw,” said Monarch. “One that my daughter is very fond of. Since we don’t have a great deal of readily-available doctors, I think it would be best if you tended to him.”

The surgeon looked at Duster. “But what about—”

“He is of no concern to you,” said Monarch.

White looked up at him. No other doctors? He had to be lying. White looked straight at Monarch’s face and say his eye turn to glance at him, as a smirk briefly flashed on his face.

Clip put a hoof on his leg. “White?” he asked.

White stood up. “I’ll take care of him,” he said. Everyone in the room turned to him in surprise. He looked around at them, took a deep breath, and said very slowly. “I broke his jaw. I used my magic to do it. I can also fix it, and… well, I can at least set it to heal.” He turned to the surgeon and politely nodded his head. With all due respect, I think I might be able to do it better than you can. I’d like you to help Duster while I tend to Aq.” He looked to Monarch. “I think that should be acceptable, Your Highness?” he said, biting back a hiss on the last word.

Monarch’s face was stony and unreadable for a moment. Then he smiled. “Very well, Brother White,” he said. He turned and started for the door. Before he exited, however, he turned and said, “Aq’s jaw had better be as good as new when you’re finished.”

When he left, there was a collective sigh of relief. White looked to Clip.

“I missed you,” said White.

“Me, too,” Clip answered back. He rushed forward and put his forelegs around White’s leg.

White smiled down and patted Clip on the head. He had been so afraid that he’d lost him, and when he thought he had, he…

He staved off a shudder and nodded to Shine. “Shine, I’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye on Clip while I—”

“I wanna come with you!” said Clip.

Both missionaries looked at him curiously.

“Well…” said Clip, shuffling his hooves. “Can I? I’d like to.”

White exchanged a glance with Shine, and then nodded. “Alright,” he said. “Just stay close to me.” He walked towards the door, with Clip trailing at his hooves.

If there was one thing the unicorns were good at, it was austere dedication to keeping things neat and clean. Apart from the shabby rooms they set aside for the earth ponies, their medical facility was a pristine display of sanitation and order, the rooms neatly arrayed in rows and stocked with the relevant medical supplies. Apart, again, for Duster’s room.

They walked down the hallway and came to one room. White’s horn lit as he started to move the doorknob, but he stopped partway before he opened the door. He turned to look at Clip.

“Clip?” asked White. Clip looked at him, but didn’t look him right in the eyes. “About what… what I did.” Clip met his eyes for an instant, but then looked back down. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was wrong. I never want to do that again.”  Clip nodded, White smiled before placing a hoof on his shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

He turned the doorknob and entered.

Aq lay on a stretcher, slumped on his side. His back was to the door, and he reminaed lying there as White slowly entered. White wasn’t sure what to say, or even if it was wise to speak. He circled around the bed, and cringed as he saw Aq’s face. The mouth had become almost shapeless, open enough to see the disjointed angles between the teeth. Aq let out a moan, perhaps in anger, and his eyes fixated on White.

White’s horn glowed, and Aq’s body seemed to relax. “This will help the pain,” he explained. “It’s sort of an anesthetic. Also makes things seem funny.” He smiled, remembering the time he tried it on Scroll.

Clip hopped onto the bedside and looked Aq in the face. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Clip. Remember me?”

Aq’s eyes gazed at him with an expression that White couldn’t read. It might have been loathing. It might also have been boredom. It might have been the gas.

“I know you probably heard this earlier, but I just wanted to tell you.” He leaned in towards Aq’s face, smiling. “Even though you kidnapped me and tried to drop me over the edge, I forgive you. And I hope you’ll forgive White for what he did to you. He’s really sorry.”

Gently, White’s horn lit up, as a soft glowing light lifted Aq’s head. He took a swallow. You’re going to be a dentist, Pearly, he thought, can’t get too squeamish… you did do this to him. He began to shift the fragments of Aq’s jaw back together into their correct places. If I ever adopt foals, I am never letting them eat candy.

“It’s funny,” said Clip, his eyes starting to wander around the room, “that’s not the first time somepony’s dropped me. General Storm did it to me. Brother Scroll says she’s a bitch.”

“Language, Clip,” said White, as he started to work his magic on the jaw. The bones began, very slowly, to bond back together.

“Sorry,” said Clip.

Aq’s expression at this point was entirely due to the influence of the spell: a dead gaze in his eyes, as though eagerly awaiting release from a miserable, tormented, bored existence. It was the strangest coincidence that his magic-induced expression matched his innermost thoughts perfectly.

“Okay,” said White. “Let’s see what we can do here. I’m not exactly certified as a dentist, yet— I’m planning to go to school for that after the mission’s over—but let’s have a look at that jaw and see if that can’t be fixed. Though getting your teeth back in the right order might be… trickier.” He paused, looking into Aq’s mouth. “You really need a check-up,” he said. “There’s some awful tartar buildup. Like, your mouth is Tartar-us.” He laughed. Aq remained expressionless; even White’s spell couldn’t make that joke funny.

“So White did a bad thing,” said Clip. “Scroll did a bad thing too, once. He told a lie. But that’s okay, ‘cause I forgive them. Like how I forgive you. But you still shouldn’t do the things you’ve been doing. Like, that guy you took, Carpenter. He’s got a colt named Buzz. I dunno how Buzz is right now. He’s probably really scared. Buzz is pretty mean, but White says I should be nice to him. And if anypony can say that, it’s probably White, ‘cause Buzz got his dad to try to kill him.”

Aq’s eyes weakly rolled over to look at White, as if asking, “really?”

White paused, thinking of something he could say. “Yeah, well,” he said, “I think Carpenter’s warmed up to me.”

“Not really,” said Clip.

“Well he hasn’t done anything to me since he tried to kill me,” said White, “so I’ll take that as an improvement.” He gently pressed Aq’s jaw shut. “I think I’ve got it mostly set in place, so it should heal. Just don’t chew anything or talk too much for a couple of weeks. Rest it, don’t use it, and we can have another look at it to see how it heals.” He pulled a length of cloth from one of the drawers and tied Aq’s mouth shut. “And voila!”

___________

As the sky outside was darkening, the thin slivers of light from the windows and his own candle weren’t enough to keep the room lit. Scroll finished lighting all of the lamps in the library, and sighed in relief as the light warmed the room. “I’d rather have fireflies,” he admitted.

Checking the door was barred, he moved to the back and pulled back the curtain. Eagle lay there, still as sapped as he had been before.

“What do you want?” asked Eagle.

“Well,” said Scroll, walking over to the desk, “I thought it’d be a good time to read to you.” He picked up a copy of the Book of Friendship, one of the few left in the library, and approached Eagle’s bedside. “About what our mission and Fraternity’s about.”

Eagle groaned. “Sure. Why the fuck not? It’s not like I paid attention when Brother Sky talked about this shit.”

Scroll pulled up a stool and sat down, opening the book. “Ah, here’s a good story for us to read,” he said, “about Fluttershy and Discord’s redemption.” He cleared his throat, but a knock on the door interrupted him. Scroll set the book down and got up. “Hello?” he asked.

“Scroll?” called Trigger Mark’s voice. “May we come in?”

Scroll quickly shut the blinds. “Just a minute!”

He scurried up to the door and unbarred it. Opening it just a crack, he saw Gunner and Trigger Mark standing outside. They stood up straight, waiting for him to answer, their rifles slung on their backs. “Well, hello, you two!” he said. Before they could enter, he exited and shut the door behind them. “I didn’t expect you two at this time! Or at all.” He gave a wide smile. “What brings you two here?”

“May we come in?” asked Trigger Mark, taking a step forward.

Scroll leaned back against the door, holding the door shut. “Why would you want to?” he asked. “It’s such a nice afternoon, and it’ll be a full moon tonight. We could go for a walk on the beach and it’ll be all lit up!”

“Uh-huh,” said Trigger Mark, narrowing his eyes at Scroll. “Look, I was wondering if I could check out a book?”

Scroll blinked. “A book?”

“This is a library, right?” asked Trigger Mark.

“Oh,” said Scroll. “Well, what book would you like?”

“I felt like browsing.”

Gunner stood off to the side, not saying anything. There was a silence as Scroll stood at the door, smiling genially at Trigger Mark, who wore a cool, expectant expression.

“Well?” he asked.

“Hm?” asked Scroll. “Oh! Yeah, sorry, the library’s a mess. Can’t let anyone in while I’m cleaning.”

“Oh?” asked Trigger Mark. “I could’ve sworn Tap came by the other day?”

“Tap’s, well, Tap’s a…” said Scroll. His mouth hung open for a moment before he finished the sentence. “She’s a close friend.”

Trigger Mark chuckled. “And I’m not? I think you just hurt my feelings.”

“Uhh,” said Gunner, “well, you two haven’t had sex.”

Trigger Mark looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Having sex with Tap doesn’t mean you’re a close friend.”

“It does if she gives it to you free,” said Gunner.

“Uhh…” said Scroll, looking back and forth between them. “Well, she’s used to dealing with messes, what with her patrons making messes. And her house burning down every few weeks, and that kind of stuff. Like, I was over there earlier and there was, there was all this broken glass—”

“We’ve dealt with our own messy business,” said Trigger Mark, his voice a bit more serious. “Some of it are things I don’t think you’d be able to do.” He paused. “I noticed something that I found odd when Tap came here. Do you know what it was?”

Scroll didn’t answer. He wasn’t smiling. He just leaned against the door, almost not even looking Trigger Mark in the eye.

“She had her gun with her. And I thought to myself: ‘Why would Tap need a gun? To protect herself from missionary Brother Scroll?’”

“Well, maybe she was worried that a… an unfriendly unicorn might come out,” said Scroll, very slowly choosing his words. His eyes narrowed suspiciously on Trigger Mark.

“True,” said Trigger Mark, nodding. “And Tap isn’t careless. But still, I wonder…” He smiled at Brother Scroll. “After all, if there’s something wrong on the island, something that’s a danger to the ponies here, I should know.”

“Oh, I can think of a lot of things wrong on this island,” said Scroll, his voice flat. “You have guns with you right now. Is there a reason for that?”

“That depends,” said Trigger Mark. “Why are all the blinds drawn over the windows?”

“The sun fades the furniture,” said Scroll quickly. “Is there anything else?” he asked curtly.

“There’s no need to get snippy, Brother Scroll,” said Trigger Mark, “we’re just asking questions.”

“And you’re keeping me from my work,” said Scroll. “I think you should go.”

“So is it a pegasus or a unicorn?” asked Trigger Mark. “I’m thinking it’s a pegasus. Maybe someone wounded in the recent attack?”

“Wait, what?” asked Gunner. “You’ve got a winger in there?”

“I said I think you should go.”

“You had foals here!” said Trigger Mark in a dark, sharp tone. “You had foals in there with an enemy combatant, with no thought to the danger you were putting them in.”

Scroll just stood there, looking straight at Trigger Mark, silent. He opened his mouth, hesitantly, but closed it again. But he didn’t break eye contact with Trigger Mark, nor did he budge from the door.

“Don’t make this difficult, Scroll,” said Trigger Mark. “We’re in a hurry. Get—”

“I don’t think you have any reason to be here,” said Scroll. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, pointing your gun at something?”

“I think it’s our job to decide that,” said Trigger Mark.

“No,” said Scroll, “I don’t think it is. It’s my mission,” he said, jamming a hoof to his chest. “Not yours.”

“No,” said Trigger Mark. “When you do something that endangers the ponies here, that is my mission.” He walked up to Scroll and stared down at him. “Get out of my way.”

“I’m not moving,” said Scroll.

“Look, Mark, we don’t have time for this,” said Gunner, casting a look at the setting sun. “We can just report it and get back.”

Trigger Mark looked at Scroll. “We won’t report it,” he said. “Quake wouldn’t like to find you harboring enemy combatants.”

“Quake’s an asshole,” said Scroll. “He doesn’t like anything except breaking things. And sex.”

Trigger Mark turned and walked away. “We’ll be back tomorrow,” he said. Then he paused and turned back to Scroll. “I’m doing this to make it easier on you. Rather than just barge in through you, I’m going to give you some time to come to your senses and hand him over quietly. We don’t want a problem and we’re short on time.”

Scroll stared him coldly in the face.

Trigger Mark politely smiled and turned back to the town. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Brother Scroll.”

“Assuming we don’t get killed,” muttered Gunner. He looked at Trigger Mark. “Remember; drinks. If I get shot, that’s on you.”

Brother Scroll watched them go, then went back inside and bolted the door shut. “Whew,” he said. “That was a close one—” He turned around and saw Eagle standing, his legs rickety. “Eagle?” he asked. “What are you doing?” He took a step forward. Eagle took a step back, his legs shaking. “Eagle, get, get back in bed. You… you’re not well.”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” asked Eagle.

Scroll stared back at him, his expression blank.

Eagle took a step forward, but his legs wobbled and gave way. He fell on the floor and looked up at Scroll. “You heard them. I’m an… an ‘enemy combatant.’” He made a sound that was somewhere between a bitter laugh, a cough, and a spit. “They’re just gonna come back and finish the job. And hey, I could escape.” He looked at Scroll. Scroll opened his mouth to say something, but Eagle cut him off. “What are you trying to do? I’m just, just one of them, one of those other soldiers. I tried to kill you twice. It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

Scroll slowly walked over to him and knelt down. Eagle stared into his face as he smiled gently. “I know you’re scared,” said Scroll. “And, well, I am, too. I’m so scared I can’t even go to the bathroom.” He laughed a little nervously. “And… I know that, that this is bad. It’s really bad.” He hefted Eagle up off of the floor, helping him back onto his cot. “I know it’s… not looking up. But we’re going to get through this.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well…” Scroll pauses. “If we don’t, we’re probably going to die.” He laughs a little nervously. “And, well, I think I have a pretty good, well, I think I’m pretty good at not dying.”

___________

White left Aq’s medical room and took a deep sigh of relief. Thank Celestia that’s over, he thought.

Clip walked up next to him. “Will he be alright?” he asked.

“He will be,” said White, nodding. “I… I don’t think I messed him up too bad. It just… well, hurt a lot.”

“You or him?” asked Clip.

White was silent for a moment. “I hurt him,” he said, sadly.

Clip hugged him on the leg, and White looked down.

“I know you feel bad about that,” said Clip.

White knelt down and wrapped a foreleg around him. “I was so worried about you. I thought they’d hurt you and…”

“Well, they didn’t,” said Clip. He grinned. “I was too smart!”

White laughed. “Stay by me,” he said, getting to his hooves. “I don’t know what they might try to do.”

They walked down the hallways. Clip walked with a little bounce in his step, chattering to White about what he’d seen.

“They have a bunch of foals working on things,” said Clip. “Mostly they have us cleaning floors and vents. Though I’ve heard about worse stuff…”

White stopped and looked down. “What kind of ‘worse stuff’?” he asked.

“Well,” Clip said, “some of the foals said that they have them go into the machinery to fix stuff when it gets broken, ‘cause the grown-ups can’t fit inside without taking the whole thing apart. I’m glad I didn’t have to do that.”

White’s face, however, had fallen into a grave expression. “Clip, you’re going to tell me everything about this,” he said. “I want to find out what these ponies are doing.”

Clip nodded.

“Good,” said White, resuming his walk.

“White?” asked Clip. “Is Scroll okay?”

“He’s…” White stopped and paused for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to answer. His first thought was to say he didn’t know. But then he smiled. “Yes. He’s okay. He’s a strong pony.”

___________

Scroll, meanwhile, struggled to lift Eagle into his bed.

“Oof!” Scroll said. “For a colt, you sure are heavy.”

Eagle sat up on the cot. “I’m not heavy,” he said, “you’re just a pussy.”

“You like that word, don’t you?” asked Scroll.

“Well, I get more of it than you do,” snapped Eagle. “And I’m not a colt.”

Scroll rolled his eyes and walked over to the bookshelf. He lifted a hoof, checking off the contents in his head.

“You’re going to read something to me?” asked Eagle. “Come on…”

“Eagle, please, just be quiet,” said Scroll. He settled on one book and took it from the shelf, walking over to the desk. “I just need to think here.”

He sat down and laid the book in front of him. Pitfalls and Booby-Traps: A Fun and Practical Guide to Home Defense. “Alright, let’s get started. With this I can set up a, well, okay, maybe I can…” He stopped and stared down at the cover. A picture of a smiling colt, sitting in the bushes and giggling as another pony began to open a box, unaware of a bucket suspended above his head. “No. This won’t work. This is stupid.”

“Getting a good feeling here.”

Scroll chucked the book at Eagle, who ducked just in time for the book to slam into the wall right behind where his face had been. “Shut up!”

___________

Princess entered Aq’s room. The lights were on, but Aq was fast asleep on his cot. The only sign of his broken jaw was the cloth tied around his muzzle, holding it shut.

She walked to his side and sat down. When she saw what White had done to him, smashing his jaw, she was terrified. But now he was fine, sleeping, and as handsome as ever.

She heard the door open, though she did not turn to see who it was. There was the sound of hoofsteps as a pony circled around the side of the bed. It was the surgeon who was to have attended him.

“Will he be well?” asked Princess.

“Yes, he should make a full recovery,” said the surgeon, placing a hoof on Aq’s head. He inspected Aq’s muzzle, his eyes scanning the jawline. “White seems to have done a fine job repairing his jaw.”

Princess put her hoof to Aq’s. “How long will it be until he can walk again?”

“Oh, he can probably leave tomorrow,” said the surgeon as he looked over a clipboard. “He broke his jaw, not his leg.” He smiled at Princess. “I can tell him you were here when he wakes, your highness.”

Princess looked up and smiled back. “Yes,” she said, standing up. “I would greatly appreciate that.”

___________

It seemed that everypony in the world was having a miserable day. Everypony, that is, except for Clip. It was true that seeing a pony he admired brutally shattering another stallion’s jaw was upsetting. But it was also true that there was nothing in the world that was more fun than bouncing on a bed.

He’d never had a bed like this. He’d slept on clouds, on the hard ground, in cots provided by earth ponies on the island and the missionaries. The missionaries had nice cots.

But this was something else entirely. A giant, red, plush trampoline. It was the best thing ever.

White sat at his hardwood desk, slouched but relaxed. He watched Clip bouncing on the bed and smiled. “You can sleep there tonight.”

“Where will you sleep?” asked Clip.

“Umm…” White looked around the room. “I’ll get to that later…” He sat in thought—or he would have, if any thoughts came into his mind—as Clip continued jumping. He looked at the blank sheet of white paper on his desk. A quill sat beside it. White wished he had some idea of what to write, some wisdom to commit to paper, but his mind was blank.

Too much has happened today, he thought. I can’t think straight. I need to lie down. He looked over at the bed. Clip was still at it. …Never mind.

The door opened. Clip stopped jumping, falling to the bed on all four hooves and looking to the doorway. White turned around to look, and both of them saw Princess standing in the doorway. Were it not for her stern expression, she might have appeared haughty, as she was puffed-up and straight-legged.

“I paid a visit to Aq today,” said Princess. She raised a hoof and calmly regarded it. “You seem to have done well.”

“White’s going to be a dentist,” said Clip. “So yeah.”

White slouched in his chair. “Yes?” he asked.

She walked into the room, looking down her nose at Clip. “So this is the foal that Aq spoke of.”

Clip blinked. He found that an odd way of referring to him. “Hello?”

Princess turned from him and back to White. “So this is representative of the actions of the earth pony barbarians?” she asked. “These are the ponies you claim to side with?”

“No I didn’t,” said White. “I didn’t say anything about… sides or anything.”

“Oh, of course not,” said Princess, “pardon me, I forgot you were a pacifist. Quite noble of you to repair Aq’s jaw after breaking it.” She surveyed White’s blank stare. “Surely, you should be feeling better?”

White met her gaze dispassionately. “Why did you come here?” he asked.

“Because I wanted to see how you were holding up,” she said, the faintest trace of a smirk on her face. “Tell me, when you decided to fix Aq’s jaw, how did you feel? Did it make you feel good? Magnanimous? Noble, that you would give such aid to an enemy? Or perhaps you told yourself that Aq wasn’t an enemy at all. Maybe you felt guilty because you hurt him. Maybe you felt good when you hurt him, and that woke you to something about yourself you didn’t want to know? I just have to wonder how much of it comes down to the lies you tell about yourself.”

White regarded Princess for a few moments, his face unreadable, before he finally said: “What are you asking?”

“What made you feel better?” she asked. “Breaking or fixing his jaw? Would you have have even fixed it if the foal had, in fact, perished?”

“You talk funny,” said Clip.

Princess ignored him. “I just wonder, White, what are the lies you tell about yourself?” she took a step forward. “You said that you don’t hate. But that seems to be a lie. I know you hate Aq.”

“Get out,” said White. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Oh, you can repair his jaw and tell yourself that all the malice is gone, but still, when you come to look upon him again—”

“I said get out!”

White was on his feet, his brow furrowed in rage. Princess regarded him with a look of cool amusement.

“Well,” she said, starting to turn around. “It’s something to think about.”

He stood there and watched as she left the room, before sitting down at his desk. He sighed, ruffling his mane. He didn’t know how he was supposed to do his missionary work in these conditions. General Quake might’ve threatened bodily harm on a daily basis, but at least he didn’t get in the way of knocking on doors or try to deliberately undermine him. At least he didn’t gloat that much. He probably thought gloating was “faggy.”

Clip sat down at the edge of the bed. “I don’t think I like her.”

White chuckled. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” said Clip. “Like, she smiles all the time, but she doesn’t mean it.” He stuck out his tongue. “Mares.”

“Now, Clip—”

“They’re weeeeird!” Clip whined. “And gross! And their manes are too long…”

White chuckled. “Now, Clip, I’ve told you, that’s not a healthy attitude to have. I mean, a pony can’t just say that, that mares are bad or whatever. I mean, think of what it’d be like with no mares? After all, everypony has a—” He was about to say ‘everypony has a mom.’ Then he remembered that Clip’s mom had dropped him off of a cloud. “I mean, you’re fine with Tap, aren’t you? You like her.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Clip said, making the face a pony makes when he doesn’t want to admit he’s wrong about something. “They’re still weird.”

White chortled. “Well, they’re different from stallions. They have different bathrooms in Equestria, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” said White. “They actually smell nice.”

There was a knock on the door. White turned to look. Who could that be? The knocking continued, fast and evenly, rhythmic. White approached the door and opened it, to find a short unicorn mare with a spiky, lemon-yellow mane and a patient smile.

White paused. “Hello?”

“Brother White?” she asked, standing very straight and speaking very curtly.

“Yes?” asked White, blinking in confusion.

“I heard you had a pegasus,” she said.

White looked at her for a moment. “Do I know you?” he asked.

She leaned to the side, peeking around him, and then walked right past him into the room, making a beeline for the bed, where Clip watched her, wide-eyed. White got a look at the cutie mark on her flank: it was a candle with what looked like a bright white spark illuminating it from behind.

Clip backed up to the edge of the opposite edge of the bed. “I don’t think I know you.”

“Now, now,” said the mare. “No need to fret, I just want to get a look at you.”

“Now, excuse me,” said White, moving himself between her and the bed. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“Bright Idea,” said the mare. “Researcher and developer, five-time winner of His Highness’s Royal Explorer Award.”

“Monarch gives out awards?” asked White.

“I don’t know you…” said Clip.

“Hm,” said Bright Idea, walking around White, inspecting Clip, who regarded her the way one regards a firecracker that has inexplicably failed to go off. “He doesn’t have wings.” She looked at White. “Are you sure he’s a pegasus, and not just a dirt pony?”

“I am a pegasus!” piped Clip indignantly.

“His wings were cut off,” said White.

“Ah, right. Can’t forget about dirt pony barbarism.” She sighed. “Not to worry, the wings aren’t important.”

“Important?” asked Clip, backing away until he almost fell off the edge of the bed.

“Miss—” began White.

“Bright Idea,” said she.

“Miss Bright Idea,” said White. “You are scaring Clip. I think you should go.”

“Wait, wait wait wait,” said Bright Idea. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”

“I did,” said White.

“Well, you see, I heard about your colt here,” she said. She began to pace. “What I was told, from your other missionary friend…”

White’s first thought was to go over to Brother Shine and ask him what he had been thinking. Or maybe apologize. He must’ve done something wrong, somehow, to prompt Shine to do this to him.

“…falls from the sky into the sea, washes up on the island, survives life with the most savage ponies there are…”

“Someday I’m going to look back on this part of my life and the casual racism will make me smile…” White muttered. Bright Idea didn’t seem to notice.

“…and then, when a soldier goes to drop him off the edge…” She stopped and smiled.

White and Clip stared at her. “And?” asked White.

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Bright Idea, raising a hoof. “Well…” She lowered her hoof. “It’s only a hypothesis, but…” She turned to Clip and smiled. “I think that your young pegasus colt is incapable of dying!”

White and Clip were silent for a moment.

“Excuse me?” asked White.

“Cool!” said Clip.

___________

Barrel was heading things behind the counter. There weren’t that many ponies in the bar, but there were enough that somepony needed to tend to things, collect money, and make sure that drinks were served. Tap was currently occupied with somepony else upstairs.

There was a shout from upstairs. “Hey!” went Tap’s voice.

Barrel looked up at the ceiling as he heard loud footsteps. They started to thunder down the staircase, and although Barrel didn’t know exactly what was going on, he knew what it sounded like when someone was trying to run away. He hobbled around the counter as he saw the stallion appear at the bottom of the stairs, not missing a beat as he turn and tried to bolt across the tavern floor.

Barrel shoved a stool, knocking into the fleeing stallion’s path. As the apparent scoundrel was looking over his shoulder, he didn’t see the stool, and he seemed to fly a few feet before slamming face-first into the floor. A small bag hit the floor next to him with a clink.

Tap arrived at the bottom of the stairs, her teeth gritted and her face bearing an expression that said she wanted to kill something. She saw the stallion on the floor and power-walked over to him. “Got you!” she muttered. She leaned down and grabbed the bag in her teeth.

“What happened?” asked Barrel.

“The piece of shit tried to rip me off,” she said. The stallion groaned, putting a hoof to his head. “Get out of my tavern.” She gave him a swift kick in the ass, and he clumsily hobbled his way over to the door.

“Fuck you, you bitch!” he said.

“You gotta pay me for that!” she shouted, shaking the bag a little.

Barrel followed the stallion and shut the door as he left, before turning back to Tap. “He tried to steal?”

“Well, what did it look like?” asked Tap. She walked over to the overturned stool. “Did you do that?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Barrel.

Tap smiled and took her place behind the counter. “Good job. You saved us some money. Just make sure you kick his ass out of here if he shows again.” Barrel nodded. “Good.” She eyed the bottles of whiskey. “Save money… or drink?” she muttered. She sighed. “Fuck.”

“I’d go with ‘save money,’” said Barrel. Tap raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, just saying.”

Tap nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But some ponies are just so… ugh. Sometimes I just feel I need a drink.”

The door opened. Tap looked up and saw Scroll standing there, his head bobbing up and down as he took deep, deep breaths. She grabbed the nearest bottle off the counter.

Scroll lurched over to the counter. “Tap!” he said. “I’m…” He stopped and leaned on the counter as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m… sorry to… bother… again… but… need your… help… with something…”

Tap kept her hoof on the bottle. “Yes?”

Scroll sat down on a stool and held up a hoof as he continued to catch his breath. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “I just didn’t know who else I could go to.” He looked around. The other ponies in the room (and there weren’t many of them) had noticed him walk in, but were otherwise just minding their own business and tending to their own conversations. Still, Scroll was cautious. “Do you think we could talk about this privately?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Away from the…” He nodded his head in the direction of the other bar patrons.

“Why?” asked Barrel. “What is it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Tap, who felt she had a good guess of what Scroll was talking about. “Come on, let’s head upstairs.”

Scroll nodded and followed as Tap led him. As they entered her room, Scroll looked around. It was about the same as it had been the last time he was in here, although now the window was broken.

“Oh dear,” he said, pointing. “You’d better fix that.”

Tap shrugged. “I’ll handle it once the glass-maker is working again. If he’s not dead.” She paused, considering the possibility. “Shit, that’d be awful.”

She walked over to the window and looked out the cracked pane. She saw a colt sitting on the roof across from them, preparing to drop a large snowball onto a pedestrian below, and she couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “So,” she said, turning around. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say Eagle’s been giving you trouble?”

“Worse,” said Scroll, now a great deal calmer. “They know he’s here.”

Tap paused for a moment. “They? You mean…”

“Gunner and Trigger Mark,” said Scroll. “They stopped by today and wanted to come into the library. I think they know.”

Tap remembered how Trigger Mark questioned her about her gun. “Shit…” she hissed.

Scroll nodded solemnly. “I think they’re going to try to kill him if they can.”

Tap crossed the room, thinking. “Does anypony else know about it?”

Scroll thought about it for a moment. “No, I don’t think they’ve told anyone. I think they want to keep it quiet.”

“If Quake finds out, he’s going to kill you.”

“What, you think I, I didn’t think of that?” asked Scroll. He rubbed his mane nervously with his hoof. “Now I need to find some way to, to solve this, to figure it out or something and, but I don’t know what to do!”

“Scroll, quiet down,” said Tap, going to the window. She peered out of it. Nopony seemed to have taken notice, but it was best to stay cautious. She closed the blinds. “Keep it up and soon the whole town will know.”

“Sorry.” Scroll looked over on her nightstand. There sat a dusty copy of the Book of Friendship.

“So you’re sure it’s just Gunner and Trigger Mark, right?” asked Tap.

“Right.”

“And you’re sure they haven’t told anyone?” she asked.

“Well, not yet,” said Scroll, rubbing the floor nervously with his hoof. “I don’t know. They might, I just… I don’t know what’s going to happen. They could come back. They could tell.” He paused. “They could… well, no, I…” His voice dropped to a whisper and he looked down at the floor.

“What? What is it?”

“I was just thinking… they’re attacking the pegasi, and, well, they, they might…” He swallowed. “They might die. Ponies—A lot of ponies, probably, are going to die tonight. I don’t want that to happen.”

“Yeah, well,” Tap started. That’s awfully morbid for him, she thought. “We, okay, let’s just keep it simple. Trigger Mark and Gunner know about the pegasus, and if they come back from the attack, they’re going to, well, come back and finish the job.”

“I need to hide him,” said Scroll. “There’s got to be somewhere. Maybe you can—”

“Scroll, no, I’m not having him in my h—”

“I wasn’t going to say that I’m just saying I need some help to…” He took several deep breaths. “Maybe in the middle the night we could carry him, like, to some abandoned hut in the woods…”

“Carry a belligerent pegasus through the streets here? We could be seen. What then?”

“Well, not through the town. We could go around.”

“Go around,” Tap said, a little incredulous.

“Yeah. Like, counter-clockwise around the island,” said Scroll, tracing a circle with his hoof. “I mean, there’s more island that isn’t town than there is that, uh, is. Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Tonight we could just take him around the island, and find someplace safe to put him—”

“Maybe you should just turn him over.”

Scroll stared blankly at a her for several seconds. “What?”

Tap sighed. “Scroll, this isn’t going to end well. Trigger Mark likes you, and he’s, well, he’s trying to solve this quietly before anyone who doesn’t like you finds out. And face it, Eagle is, well, y’know…”

“What?” asked Scroll.

“He’s dangerous, Scroll,” said Tap. “He tried to kill you. Twice.”

“He’s completely helpless.”

“He is now. What happens when his wings heal? What happens when he’s strong enough to fight again and he doesn’t need you to keep things cushy? What, do you just think that some sick fuck like that is going to be, just going to be grateful that you helped him?”

“Yes,” said Scroll, pressing his hoof to the floor. “Maybe this is a chance. Maybe once, just once, you could think of it as—”

“A chance?” asked Tap. “A chance for what?”

“Mercy,” said Scroll. “Maybe we could try it for once. Every time a pegasus or a unicorn ends up here, whether they’re a soldier or they just had the bad luck to fall onto here, they’re brutalized or murdered. Here…” He paused and breathed. “This pegasus soldier. He isn’t even as old as I am. He’s wounded, scared, and he has nowhere to go. Maybe if we actually managed to show kindness to him, well… Maybe that could make a difference.”

“You want to take that chance?” asked Tap. “You think it’s worth risking your safety? Over a pony who’s tried to kill you twice?”

Scroll looked at the book at Tap’s bedside. “It’s what they would do.” He looked back to Tap. “And it’s what White would do.”

“White’s not here, Scroll,” said Tap. “And if you’re not careful, you might not be here, either.”

Scroll looked at her for a while. Then he said, “I have to, Tap.” His voice was soft. “What can I do if I abandon what I’ve been trying to do now, when it really matters? If I give Eagle up to Trigger Mark and Gunner, and let them kill him, I…” He shook his head. “I don’t have a mission anymore after that. Nothing I say will ever matter again. Because then everything that I’ve tried to teach, everything that the Fraternity stands for, everything that Twilight Sparkle and her friends ever wrote or learned… It will all be a lie. And none of you will ever believe it. And I’ll have failed at everything I’ve ever done.”

He turned around and started to walk out of the room. “You don’t have to help me,” said Scroll, looking back at her. “But you can’t convince me that I’m doing the wrong thing.” He left.

Tap stood there for a minute, thinking. Scroll obviously wasn’t going to back down from this, so she was in a tough predicament. She had to help him.

Wait, she thought, I don’t have to… oh, fuck it.

She’d have to think on it some more. She walked downstairs, remembering she had a bar to run. When she reached the floor of the tavern, she saw one pony on the floor, holding his muzzle, while another pony stood above him looking mighty pleased with himself. Barrel, meanwhile, stayed where he had been, presumably frozen with fright.

“Great, I missed a barfight,” she said, going behind the counter. “C’mon, Barrel, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Barrel nodded. “What did Scroll want?”

“He’s got a problem and he needs help with it,” said Tap. “I’d rather not go into details.”

“Oh,” said Barrel. He went quiet again, and returned to pour the drink of a customer who had been irritably tapping his tankard on the counter. “Are you going to help him?”

Tap paused. “I guess I have to,” she said. “I don’t want anything to happen to him. I just don’t know what to do.”

The pony who had lost the barfight pulled himself to the counter, smiling through his bloody muzzle. “Whazzis? The missionary guy?” he asked. “I miss the horner. Everypony called him a faggot, but hey, he held his own in a fight on the first day. Too bad he never came back for another. He was alright.”

Tap stared at him. “Uh… huh.”

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Barrel, as the customer happily buried himself in alcohol.

“No, Barrel,” said Tap. “I’ll handle it myself.”

“Are you sure?” asked Barrel.

“No,” said Tap firmly. She then caught herself, realizing what she said. “I mean, yes. Stay out of it.”

“Oh.” Barrel was quiet for a moment as Tap continued to serve customers. “Is this because I got shot?”

“Barrel…”

“Don’t say ‘Barrel,’” said Barrel. “Just tell me if it’s ‘cause I got shot.”

Tap was quiet for a moment. “Yes,” she said, finally. “They… do some stupid things, and I don’t want you putting yourself in danger ‘cause you want to do what they do.”

“I did it to protect them.”

“Yes, but—”

“You’d do the same for me,” said Barrel. “That’s what family’s about.”

Tap was silent for a moment. “They aren’t family.”

“They aren’t?” asked Barrel. “We let them live with us. We shared what we had with them. So did they.”

“That’s not…” Tap groaned. “They’re good friends, it’s just… not like that.”

“They could be.”

Tap looked at him. She was silent for a moment. “I don’t want to take that risk.”

“Risk?” asked Barrel. “What… what kind of ‘risk’ is that? What’s the risk about family?”

“If you let ponies get too close to you, you can get hurt.”

“Do you think that they’d do anything to hurt us?”

Tap turned away, occupying herself in the inspection of a tankard. “Sometimes, they don’t have to do anything.” She put the tankard down. “White nearly got killed because he stuck his neck out for some poor sap. Do you think we can afford to do that?”

Barrel was silent for a minute. Tap returned to attending customers, refilling their drinks and letting them look at her ass.

“Maybe,” Barrel said when she returned to the counter, “things are bad here because nopony’s willing to stick their necks out for everypony. We just shut ourselves in and do what’s best for ourselves, and don’t care what happens to others.”

Tap looked at him, and he looked back at her.

“Maybe,” he continued, “maybe we need more family.”

___________

Buzz stared at the three-legged stool in front of him, breathing heavily. Finally, he’d gotten it right. There was nothing wrong with this one. It wasn’t crooked, uneven, it wasn’t going to collapse when somepony tried to sit on it, and it didn’t wobble. He’d made a three-legged stool that wobbled, once. It still shamed him.

He looked at the lamp next to him. It was too dim and too cold. The fucking wingers and their fucking snow. They ruined everything. Except for the stool. The stool was still fine.

There was a knock on the door. Buzz looked up. “Who is it?” he asked.

The door opened, with Scroll standing timidly outside. “Are you open?” he asked.

“What do you want?” asked Buzz.

“A box.”

Buzz stared at him for a moment. “Come in,” he said.

Scroll walked in, shaking the snow off of his hooves on the porch.

Buzz still regarded him with a suspicious look. “What kind of box?”

___________

Being an earth pony, Gunner had never flown before. At first it was exciting. Then it was stomach-churning.

Trigger Mark took the pilot seat, pumping at the pedals and spinning the great propellers. Gunner sat behind him, holding his guns.

Their crew of gyrocopters lifted into the air as the night enveloped the island. Gunner dared not look down, for fear he’d fall off, or worse yet, throw up.

There was no wind to guide them, so the ponies at the pedals had to put their all into it. They sailed away from the island in their magnificent flying machines, and Gunner came to the realization that for the first time in foreverhis life, he was away from home. Solid ground was no longer below them, the earth replaced by the dark waters of the sea, softly reflecting the moon above them. Gunner felt small, insignificant, and powerless, engulfed by a great wide space that left him as a speck in the universe.

Time didn’t seem to pass for him. There was a call ahead, as a dark mass of clouds ahead came into view—their target.

The earth ponies circled around at a distance. The pegasi weren’t prepared, The night concealed the earth ponies, and the pegasi wouldn’t expect this kind of attack. There was a shout—Gunner thought it was from one of their commanders. That made the most sense, but he couldn’t be sure—and then the shooting started. The earth ponies stormed in on their MAGNIFICENT flying machines, peppering the clouds with bullets from rifles and machine guns. Many pegasi fell instantly, or almost instantly. Those that didn’t quickly scrambled, getting to their hooves, taking to the air, and they began to fight back.The din of the battle raged around them, filling Gunner’s ears with the sound of wind, gunfire, and thunder.

He looked to one of the clouds. He saw one familiar pegasus sitting on the cloud, next to another pegasus who was lying, bleeding onto the cloud. He recognized that pegasus—where had he seen him before? He saw the pegasus look up, shouting around him, and he looked right at him, and he remembered: it was Brother Sky, the old missionary. That seemed like a long time ago, Gunner thought. There was a crack of a gunshot and Sky recoiled, his face constrained in pain as he let out a cry.

Why had that happened? Sky hadn’t been doing anything, had he? There was no reason to shoot him, after all… But why were they here? Gunner had shot ponies before, lots of times, but that had always been in defense of his home. But this attack… why were they doing it? Gunner remembered he had wanted to hit back after so many times of being attacked, but now he wasn’t sure.

The air lit as General Storm clanked her iron boots together, tossing bolts of lightning through the sky. Gunner saw one of the gyrocopters struck, its occupants snuffed out in a flash as the wreckage fell through the clouds below.

It was at that moment that he froze. All around him was noise and air, and he realized he was helpless, with no ground below him, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He was still, suspended over an abyss with no bottom. He could hear someone shouting his name. He seemed loud, but he could barely hear it above the cacophony around his head.

“Gunner!” shouted Trigger Mark. “To our left!”

Gunner snapped from his shock and saw a pegasus soldier beside him, aiming a gun. Gunner had no time to think and turned his rifle, firing at the attacker. The soldier dropped and fell, hitting the cloud with a soft thud.

Gunner stared down at the felled body of the soldier. The cloud was so white, and drops of blood leaked from the wound, staining the cloud red as the soldier bled out. But still, so much of the cloud held the pristine white. Sometimes there wasn’t as much blood as you thought there’d be. And he’d shot so quickly and so easily.

And then Gunner remembered what had happened earlier in the day, and he froze. With the carnage and the slaughter around him, the din of gunfire and thunder ringing around his ears like a hurricane, he shut down. The last thing in that battle he remembered seeing was the sight of the pegasus soldier sinking slowly into the clouds as his life left him, tumbling through the bottom and into the dark abyss of the sea below.

---

Chapter 35

When the flying machines landed, the sky was slowly beginning to brighten as the dawn loomed over the horizon. There were fewer soldiers now than there had been when they took off. That wasn’t much of a surprise to any of them. There were also some crates of food, but they were only a small fraction of what General Storm had taken in the first place.

Gunner was stiff, clutching his seat and staring blankly ahead of him. He jumped a little as their vehicle hit the ground with a loud thud.

“You okay?” asked Trigger Mark, looking behind him. His voice and face were tired, and he was leaned forward, his shoulders slouched ever so slightly. He looked like someone who really needed to go to bed, but wouldn’t be able to sleep if he tried.

“Well…” said Gunner, taking a step off of the gyrocopter. He stumbled; his legs felt like jelly. “I’m not dead.” He took a few deep breaths and leaned on a box. “You… owe me a drink… Tomorrow. Or later today. Or… Whenever it is, right now. I don’t know.”

Trigger Mark hauled himself off of the gyrocopter. “Hopefully we don’t have to fly these things again any time soon.”

“Yeah…” said Gunner. “Or ever.” He sank down against the box. The past few hours were an incomprehensible blur of wind, gunshots, thunder, and shouting. The only thing that he could really remember was the one pegasus he shot, bleeding out into the clouds before falling through. For a moment, nothing going on seemed to register, including the fact that Trigger Mark was saying something.

“Gunner?” asked Trigger Mark.

“Huh?” asked Gunner, who had settled into a relaxed, slumped position.

“You ready?”

“Huh? For what?”

“We need to see Scroll,” said Trigger Mark. “Have to finish our job.” His voice was tired. In another circumstance, he might’ve been annoyed at Gunner for making him repeat himself, but right now he just wanted to get everything over with.

“Oh, yeah,” said Gunner, vaguely remembering. “That. Yeah, sure.”

Trigger Mark waited for Gunner to slowly pull himself to his hooves and adjust his rifle. Wordlessly, he led him out of the camp, through the town, and down to the beach. There were a few ponies out, but not many; just the usual early birds for whom four in the morning was their normal waking time. None of them seemed to notice the soldiers. Gunner wondered if they even cared what they had just done. They probably didn’t.

He didn’t say anything to Trigger Mark as they solemnly made their way to the library on the rock. Trigger Mark noted the windows.

“Curtains up,” he said, pointing. “That means he’s hiding something.”

“Uh-huh,” said Gunner, not actually looking where Trigger indicated.

Trigger Mark straightened the gun on his shoulder and approached the door. He raised his hoof and looked at Gunner. “Ready?” he asked.

Gunner shrugged and mumbled something in the affirmative.

Trigger Mark knocked. There was a shuffling sound, a bump, an “ow!”, and the sound of a latch being undone. The door opened a crack, and a groggy eye blinked from behind it.

“Yes?” asked Scroll. “What is it?”

“May we come in?” asked Trigger Mark.

Scroll’s bleary eye looked out through the crack. “No,” he said after a pause.

“Scroll, this will go a lot better for all of us if you cooperate,” said Trigger Mark.

“I think I’ll pass,” said Scroll. He began to shut the door.

Trigger Mark stuck his hoof in the door and pulled. Scroll pulled back. The door wobbled, but didn’t give way in either direction.

“Scroll!” said Trigger Mark, through his teeth. “Think about what you’re doing. You’re putting everyone on this island in danger.”

“We’re… not… open…” said Scroll.

“No?” asked Trigger Mark. “That’s not like you, Scroll.” He managed to wrest the door just a little way further open. “You and White always had an open-door policy.”

Scroll looked at him with an expression that might have been deadpan were it not for the fact he was focused on trying to keep the door shut. Then he said, “Good point.”

The door effortlessly flung open towards Trigger Mark, who stumbled right back into a do-nothing Gunner. Trigger Mark narrowly avoided tripping over his partner, while Scroll slammed the door shut. As Trigger Mark regained his footing, the latch clicked.

“Scroll!” shouted Trigger Mark, marching up to the door. “Open this door!” He pounded his hoof on it.

Scroll didn’t answer.

“Scroll?” asked Trigger Mark. He stopped and took a deep breath. He spoke again, lowering his voice. “Scroll, listen to me. I don’t know what you’re thinking or what you have going on in there. But I’m telling you, that pegasus is dangerous. It’s a danger to everyone on this island, including you. Even if he doesn’t kill you, if the general finds out…”

“What pegasus?” asked Scroll.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Scroll,” said Trigger Mark. “We know you’re hiding one in there, and we’re here to—”

“I’m not listening, you know,”  said Scroll. “I’ve got another busy day tomorrow, and it’s like… four in the morning. Goodnight.”

Trigger Mark looked at Gunner, who just looked back at him and shrugged.

“Scroll,” said Trigger Mark, “Scroll, are you there?” There was no response. “I’m giving you one more chance for this to go over with no fuss. Otherwise…” He straightened his shoulders. “I’m going to have to break down this door.”

He waited.

Scroll said nothing.

Then he turned around, lifted his legs, and threw a kick. The door shook with a woody thud. Then another kick, and another thud. Then another kick, and a crack.

The door crashed open, some splinters flying inside, and Trigger Mark marched inside. He saw the front desk, the tables, the bookcase, and Scroll lying on a cot at the end of the room.

“Where is he?” asked Trigger Mark.

Scroll sat up. He looked at Trigger Mark, not saying anything.

“I asked you a question,” said Trigger Mark, stepping into the room. “Where is he?”

Scroll swallowed. “Get out of my library.”

“Not until you tell us where the pegasus is.” He took a deep breath. “Scroll, I’ve been more than reasonable. We…” He waved his hoof, gesturing between the two of them. “We’ve always gotten along.” He looked at Scroll. Scroll just looked back at him, silently. “You know, we stuck our necks out for you two, helping your friend escape.”

“Oh, is that it?” asked Scroll. “What, does it work like coupons? ‘Didn’t use my free murder yesterday, but I’d like to redeem it now’?”

“Scroll, I understand that what we have to do sometimes isn’t pleasant—”

“What you have to do?” asked Scroll. He sat up, slowly climbing out of the cot. “You don’t have to do anything. You chose to come here, to a library run by one lonesome missionary who, who doesn’t have a clue what the fuck he’s doing.” He took a step towards Trigger Mark. “You chose to come here, and start making demands, and now you’ve broken down my door.” There was a silence. “But I guess I made you do that, ’cause I said no.” He stared down Trigger Mark. “You know that this constitutes an act of aggression against a noncombatant charity group, right? You know what that makes you?”

“Let me guess,” said Trigger Mark, mentally flipping through the kinds of words and terms he’d expect Scroll to use, “an international criminal?”

“No. It just makes you an asshole,” said Scroll. He tilted his head. “Can I ask you a favor? If you want to come here, and break down my door, and interfere in my work, you can do that, but could you not bullshit me about how you’re trying to protect me?”

“Are you done?” asked Trigger Mark. He looked coldly at Scroll. The missionary was in one of his really ‘self-righteous’ moods, it seemed. Normally Trigger Mark expected this from Brother White, and usually directed at somepony else. Maybe he needed more sleep, or something to eat.

“Fuck you. You never gave a shit about me or our mission,” said Scroll, now up in his face. “And so you came here hoping to cut someone’s wings off!”

Trigger Mark then found that he had shoved Scroll to the floor. He looked down at him, as Scroll looked up at him, angry and breathing heavily.

“Don’t,” he said to Scroll, “ever talk to me that way.”

“Or what?” asked Scroll, getting up and backing towards the bookshelf. “You’ll beat me up? Joke’s on you; I don’t have any glasses left to break!”

“Maybe you could stand to be a little more gracious, after everything we’ve done for you,” said Trigger Mark. He took a step forward. “Let me tell you what would happen if I didn’t give a shit. I wouldn’t be asking you nicely to step aside. I wouldn’t be giving you the chance to cooperate. I wouldn’t have given you time to think it over. I’d have finished the job before we left, or I’d have reported this to General Quake. I wonder what he would’ve done if he thought you were harboring an enemy combatant, hm?”

Scroll looked back at him, silent but intense.

“So don’t you dare talk to me about not giving a shit about your work!” He was silent for a moment as he stared Scroll down.  “Gunner, hold him while I search the room.”

Gunner approached Scroll, backing him towards the wall.

“So,” said Scroll, “how’d your little thing go tonight? How many pegasi did you kill?”

Gunner didn’t answer.

“Well?” asked Scroll.

“Just one,” said Gunner, quietly.

Trigger Mark, meanwhile, approached the cot. “I know you’re hiding something, Scroll,” he said. He was making a special effort to keep his voice soft and calm. “Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be acting like this. You don’t want me in here, so you’re getting defensive. That’s the first giveaway.”

Scroll didn’t say anything. He just looked at the soldiers with a look of unbridled scorn.

“I see this a lot,” Trigger Mark explained. “If someone has something they shouldn’t have, they tend to position themselves as close to the thing as possible. You see, it gives them the feeling that they have it in their control. Like, if they really need to, they can do something to hide it.” He looked at Scroll and gave him a little smile. “They don’t even know they’re doing it.”

“Are you done?” asked Scroll. He tried to look collected and firm, but a nervous hoof traced the floor.

“When we came in here—”

“Broke in,” Scroll interrupted.

Trigger Mark ignored him. “You were right on this cot here. And when I walked closer, you got up and moved closer to me, like you were trying to keep me away…” He prodded the sheets, before pulling them up. Then, he took the bedframe and flipped it over into the room. Underneath the cot was a large box. “From this?”

He lifted the lid of the box and found the pegasus sitting there, hunched, and looking up, wide-eyed. There was a pause as all four ponies in the room were in complete silence.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Scroll,” said Trigger Mark, not looking away from Eagle.

“The feeling is mutual, asshole,” said Scroll. “I knew you were a soldier, but I didn’t take you for a thug.”

“You had foals in this room.” Trigger Mark paused, letting his rough words sink in. “You had an enemy combatant in a room where he could endanger foals, far away from anyone who could protect them. You want to get morally indignant at me for trying to keep this island safe?”

Scroll didn’t say anything. Trigger Mark pulled out his pistol.

“Wait…” said Eagle.

“He’s just a foal,” said Scroll. “He’s younger than I am.”

Trigger Mark looked down at him. Scroll was right. He was just some colt, looking up at him with terror in his eyes.

“That’s… tragic,” he said, pulling back the hammer on his pistol with his mouth. “But I have to—”

“Isn’t there any room for pity?” asked Scroll. Trigger Mark looked up at him. Scroll’s voice was softer, less accusatory. Now it was more pleading.  “You said you cared about us, about our mission. But do you even understand what our mission is?”

“You want to befriend him?” asked Trigger Mark. “Are you seriously telling me—”

“Yes,” said Scroll.

“It’s going well…” offered Eagle, weakly raising a hoof.

“And you want me,” said Trigger Mark, still not moving the gun, “to just… walk away. Leave him here.”

“I want you to try our ways, Mark,” said Scroll. “You signed our membership list and you called yourself our friend.” He swallowed and took a breath. “But you never used our ways. What you’re doing… these are Quake’s ways.”

“And if you’re wrong?” asked Trigger Mark. “What if Quake’s ways are necessary, sometimes?”

“If Quake’s ways are the right ways here and now, then this mission has no reason to be here,” said Scroll. “If I’m wrong about this, then this whole island is beyond hope. There’s nothing I can do.”

Trigger Mark took a step away from the pegasus, still keeping his weapon trained on him. He didn’t want to give him a chance to grab his weapon while he looked at Scroll, wondering the meaning of his words.

“Mark, please…” said Scroll.

“Mark?”

Trigger Mark turned his head. Gunner was looking at him, his face sunk, tired, and confused. Mark tilted his head.

“Don’t do it, Mark,” said Gunner.

“Gunner…” said Trigger Mark.

“He didn’t hurt any of the kids,” said Gunner. His voice was soft, barely above a mumble. “He isn’t really doing anything here. At all.”

Trigger Mark looked back at Eagle, the pistol still pointed at his head.

“Hasn’t there been enough tonight?” asked Gunner. “Do we need another?”

Trigger Mark gave Eagle one more look, studying him, before stepping over to Scroll. “Do you swear that you have him under control?”

Scroll looked at him, staring wordlessly.

“Do you?” asked Trigger Mark, more firmly.

Scroll took a deep breath. “Yes. I think so.”

“You think?” asked Trigger Mark.

“Yes,” answered Scroll.

Trigger Mark released the hammer on his pistol, holstering it. “Fine. If the pegasus—”

“Eagle,” said Scroll.

“The… excuse me?” asked Trigger Mark.

“His name is Eagle. I want you to call him by his name.” Scroll looked back up at Trigger Mark. “Not ‘the pegasus’.”

Trigger Mark took a breath. “If Eagle doesn’t cause any trouble, he can stay here, and we won’t tell the general or anypony else about this. But if word gets out, and Quake decides he doesn’t like it…” He leaned down into Scroll’s face. “I’m not going to help you this time. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” said Scroll, nodding.

Trigger Mark stepped away, towards the now busted doorway. “Come on, Gunner,” he said, walking out. Then he paused, before turning back. Scroll had gone to the overturned cot and was starting to turn it back over. Gunner, however, just stood where he was by the bookcase. “Gunner?”

Gunner slowly turned back to him. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m coming.”

Trigger Mark began the march back to the town, with Gunner trailing behind him, stopping every so often to look back at the library on the rock with the broken door.

___________

“This isn’t happening,” said Brother White.

Clip sat on a stool, wires and diodes stuck all over his body. A large metal hat sat on his head, covering his eyes. Around him was an assortment of massive machines, blinking with multi-colored lightbulbs. Bleeping and blipping and blooping.

“I can’t see anything,” said Clip.

“That’s okay,” said Bright Idea, quickly hopping from one station to the next. She paused at a graph that was scribbling lines all over a continuously emerging sheet of paper. “We just need to collect the data.”

“And… what data are you collecting?” asked White.

“I’ll tell you once I’ve collected it!” said Bright Idea. “And once we run some tests…”

White looked back at Clip. “Tests?” he asked. “No. Your… your ‘he can’t die’ thing is…” He shook his head. “You’re not going to test that.”

Bright Idea looked at him, her face long and blank. “Not going to test? But then we won’t know if it’s true or not!”

White stared at her. “Yeah, we’re done here,” he said, turning to Clip. “Come on, let’s get this stuff off of you.”

“Wait!” shouted Bright Idea, throwing herself between the two. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

White stopped and tilted his head. “That… would make two of us.” He tried to smile gently. “Look, I know that you think you might have stumbled onto some sort of… big discovery with Clip here. But… I think you’re kind of mistaken. I don’t think he’s got any… special magical property or anything. He’s just a pegasus foal.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t study him!” said Bright Idea, rushing to one of the blooping stations. “I don’t get to see pegasi very often, let alone one that doesn’t have a gun pointed at me!” She turned around, smiling exuberantly. “It’s a golden opportunity!”

White heard himself let out a groan. “We studied the pony body in high school. They have hollow bones. They have high metabolisms. They can touch clouds like solids. You’re not really discovering anything groundbreaking.”

“Or cloudbreaking!” said Clip.

“Oh, nonsense,” said Bright Idea, turning back to a stack of papers on her desk. “This is much more interesting than the other things I’ve had to work on. Most of the things the general has me work on are so boring. I’m just glad he got over losing the Cannon Engine as quickly as I got over working on it. It’s like everyone ran out of ideas after the Plague of Nightmares.”

It was at this point that, for White, the conversation had shifted from ‘kind of creepy’ to ‘genuinely disturbing,’ and he was now disconnecting Clip from the contraptions attached to him.

“Tell you what,” said White, “I’m going to take Clip away from here so that he doesn’t get hurt in your experiments, and when I get home I’ll come back and give you some of my high school biology texts.”

Clip was now perched on White’s back, and the two were ready to make their way out, when Bright Idea turned around on them. Whether or not she noticed that they were trying to abscond was not clear. “Hold that thought for just a moment,” she said, turning to Clip. “Swallow.”

“Huh?” asked Clip. “wha-mmpf!” he said, as she shoved something small in his mouth.

“What—” started White, but Bright Idea held a hoof up to his mouth.

“Juuuust a minute,” said Bright Idea in hushed tones. “Give him some time…”

“Wow…” said Clip, his eyes wide. A giant grin slowly crept onto his face. “I can feel my wings again!” he said, his voice full of wonder. He sat up on his haunches, almost leaning into the air. White looked at him and could almost see the phantom wings outstretched.

White turned on Bright Idea with a furious expression. “What did you do?”

“Sharphorn,” said Bright Idea. “It’s an enhancement drug we’re developing. Tests so far show it works very well on unicorns. Sharpens their minds and helps them concentrate, along with an increased sensitivity to sensory stimuli.”

“Do your horns get in the way of wearing hats?” asked Clip, inquisitively narrowing his eyes as he looked from White’s horn to Bright Idea’s.

“Interestingly, it seems to affect him faster than unicorns,” said Bright Idea, circling Clip like a housecat. “Perhaps it owes to an increased metabolism…”

“That means I eat a lot!” said Clip, almost bouncing out of his seat at the sound of a conversation topic he recognized.

“I already told you that!” said White.

“I like grilled cheese sandwiches…”

“It wasn’t something I was learning, so I didn’t listen,” said Bright Idea, turning around. She went back to her desk,which was strewn with all manner of doohickeys and thingmebobs, and started shuffling around. “Now where did I put that notepad…” she muttered. “Ah!” She said, lifting a tiny pad of papers from the pile. “Found it!”

But when she turned around, White and Clip were gone. All that remained were the faint sounds of hoofsteps and a colt’s voice saying, “So I was just thinking, that at your and Scroll’s wedding, I could carry the rings…”

_______

Scroll didn’t look very good. Due to the night’s interruptions he hadn’t gotten very much sleep, nor had he much of a chance or means to groom himself.

Eagle sat in his box. He hadn’t moved from there last night, and he just sat there. Eagle watched Scroll as the missionary checked the door. Nopony was likely to come. Few ponies on the island, it seemed, had much interest in Scroll’s books right now.

Scroll shut the door as best as he could, given that he’d had to feebly prop what was left of it up after Trigger Mark had kicked it in, and walked back, sitting at one of the many unused tables.

“I…” Eagle started, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?” asked Scroll.

“I, uh…” Eagle said. “I just wanted to say… I don’t really know how to say it…” He was silent for a moment. “I didn’t think you would do that for me. I thought I was dead. I guess, well…”

“Is that a thanks?” Scroll asked, a tired wryness in his tone and smile.

“I guess…” said Eagle.

Scroll pulled a chair up to his box and sat down, regarding him. Without a gun or a way to murder someone he seemed so… deflated. A change he certainly preferred to the sadistic attempts on his life, of course.

“Well,” said Scroll, “you’re welcome. You’ve been very…” His mouth twinged as he looked for the right word. “Well… cooperative?” He laughed a little nervously.

Eagle sat up a little, regarding him with a suspicious, slightly weirded-out look. “Well… I don’t really have a whole lot of other options…”

“Well, heh… That’s actually something I wanted to talk about.’

“What? What are you talking about?”

Scroll got up and walked away, towards the bookshelf. “Your, well… attitude, I think, has been improving. Which is my way of saying that you don’t seem to be trying to kill me. And you haven’t been acting like you’re trying to, well, attempt that and…” He shook his head. “I’m really sorry, I’m not good at this. Let me start over.” He cleared his throat.

Eagle sighed and propped his cheek up with a hoof.

“What I think I want to ask,” said Scroll, taking a book from the shelf and walking back towards Eagle. “Is are you just doing… playing along with this for your own safety? Or are you taking this to heart?” He set the book down on the edge of the box.

Eagle looked blankly at it. “What is it?”

“It’s the Book of Friendship,” said Scroll. “The teachings of Twilight Sparkle and our Fraternity.”

“Oh,” said Eagle. “That’s… that’s the thing that Sky was talking about.” He looked at the book curiously. “He didn’t actually have it on him.”

“Guess he didn’t have time to pack,” said Scroll. “Quake doesn’t always give the biggest head starts when he, well…”

“He’s fucking terrifying,” said Eagle. “I’ve seen him rip apart pegasi like, like paper.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen it. White… had to run away, too. I think the same thing happened to Brother Shine.” Scroll paused for a moment, looking down at the book. “It… Well, you probably don’t need me to tell you it hasn’t been easy. And this isn’t about me.”

“Uhh…”

“Eagle, I’d like you to join our fraternity.”

Eagle blinked. “Excuse me?”

Suddenly a knock came at the door. Scroll and Eagle tensed and fell completely silent. Eagle sank into the box, shutting the lid over his head.

“Scroll?” asked a voice from outside. It was Barrel’s.

Scroll let out a relieved sigh. “Yeah?”

“You in there?” asked Barrel. After a brief pause, he appended, “I mean, can I come in?”

“Sure!” said Scroll. As he took a step forward, however, Eagle cracked the lid of the box open and grabbed his leg.

“What are you doing?” Eagle whispered in a frantic rasp.

“Barrel’s a friend. He won’t hurt you,” reassured Scroll, gently pulling his leg away and approaching the door. He undid the latch and opened it. He saw Barrel, standing there with a saddlebag. “Barrel!” he said, smiling. “It’s… it’s been a while.” He leaned over. “I, uh, haven’t seen you out of the tavern since, well…”

“Yeah, I’ve missed it,” said Barrel, nodding. “But I’m getting better. I don’t need the bandages any more.” He paused for a moment. “Still kind of sore, though.” His mouth twinged a little. “But it could be worse. I could be dead.” He laughed awkwardly. “Well, anyway… It’s nice to be out. I’ve gotten to say hi to the seagulls for the first time in a while.”

“Would you like to come in?” asked Scroll, as he stepped to the side and held the door open.

Barrel stepped in, awkwardly stopping in the doorway to stick his head into his saddlebag. “Hold on a minnit…” he said, before pulling a bottle out with his teeth. He smiled. “Eh? ‘ought a ‘ottle o’ ‘iher!”

“Oh!” said Scroll, watching as Barrel made his way to the table. “Sure, come right in. Is Tap, uh…”

“Oh, she’s busy,” said Barrel. “Lot of soldiers there that want some ‘happy-to-be-alive’ sex.” He paused for a moment. “I figured nopony would notice if I slipped out for a while.” He set the bottle on the table and looked over at the box. Eagle watched him, wide-eyed, the top of his head poking out from the edge. “Hello.”

“Barrel, this is Eagle,” said Scroll. “He, uh…”

“Ohhhhh, right, the guy who tried to brutally kill you twice!” said Barrel.

Eagle shifted uncomfortable and muttered something.

“Barrel, that might not be the… most sensitive thing to bring up,” said Scroll.

“I said I was sorry…” muttered Eagle.

“Oh, sorry… Well, scoot the box over here,” said Barrel, taking the cork out of the bottle and setting out four glasses. “I thought it’d be nice to have a little get together here. Just the four of us.”

Scroll tilted his head. “The four of…”

“I didn’t think you’d mind if I invited Gwynna,” said Barrel.

There was a cry from outside the doorway. The ponies looked over and saw a seagull standing and peering a gap. Barrel’s face lit up in a smile. “Glad you could join us!” he said.

The seagull hopped through the opening and onto the table as Scroll slid Eagle over in his box. Barrel poured out some cider into each of the four glasses before taking a seat himself. As he did this, he admired Eagle’s box.

“That’s a nice box,” said Barrel, “where’d you get it?”

“I, uh…” said Scroll. “I asked Buzz for a favor.” He went silent for a moment. “He seems to be doing okay.”

Barrel made a face.

“I’m going to have to visit him. Once I… get a hold on myself.” He leaned over the table, looking down at his glass.

“Well, maybe I can help!” said Barrel. As Scroll looked up, he continued, “I mean, I was thinking that, well, with White being gone, you could use a helping hoof with the mission stuff and… stuff.”

“Barrel, I don’t know if that’s, um…” Scroll hemmed and hawwed. “Does your sister… know that you’re here?”

“No,” said Barrel.

“Are you sure this is uh, well, are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Scroll. “I mean, well, Tap did say she didn’t want, well…”

“I want to spend some time here,” said Barrel. “Away from all those jerks at the bar. Besides…” He took a sip of cider. “I thought you could use some friendly company.” He looked at Eagle. “No offense.”

“Uhh…” said Eagle, looking at Barrel as though he were afraid of some sort of violent reprisal.

“So you’re Eagle?” asked Barrel.

“Mrap?” piped Gwynna.

“No, Eagle, not Seagull,” Barrel corrected.

“Kra,” went Gwynna.

Scroll took a sip of cider. “Thank you,” said Scroll. “It’s been a little hard since White…”

“Hey, I’m sure he’s fine,” said Barrel. “It’s not like the unicorns are going to try to kill him for being a unicorn, right?” He smiled in an attempt to comfort. “Hard times all around. Eagle’s probably scared for his life right now, I’m recovering from a bullet wound, and Gwynna’s in a custody battle with the ex-wife.”

Gwynna made a squawking sound.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out between the two of you. It’s… really not your fault. You did everything you could to try to repair your marriage.” He shrugged. “I guess sometimes you can only go so far if she’s not willing to meet you on it.”

Scroll looked down at his cup, his shoulders sagging as he felt a small pit in his stomach.

“So… how are things over here?” asked Barrel.

“About as good as it looks,” Eagle mumbled. He just looked down at his cup. He hadn’t even taken a sip.

“Have any events planned?” asked Barrel.

“Huh?” asked Scroll. “Ev— oh… Well, no, I guess… Those were always White’s ideas. I’m… just trying to keep everything from falling down on top of me.”

“Sounds like you could use some help,” said Barrel.

“Huh?” asked Scroll. “Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking me,” said Barrel. “I’m volunteering. I mean, that’s what it meant when I joined, didn’t it?”

“Skwa!” went Gwynna.

“I…” said Scroll.

“Wasn’t that something you taught me, once? Not to be afraid to accept help?” asked Barrel.

“Yes…” said Scroll. “Yes, that, that’s true.” He looked up at Barrel and thought about what Tap said, about how she didn’t want them to rope Barrel into their zany schemes. But then he thought… “Well, I’m not one to turn down a friendly face.”

Barrel’s expression lit up. “Great! So, what do we do?”

“Well,” said Scroll. “It’s… complicated. I don’t know where to start.”

“Apart from the part where I’m pretty much fucking dead if I get found out,” deadpanned Eagle, “apart from that it shouldn’t be too complicated.”

“I have two ideas,” said Barrel.

Scroll looked at him and leaned forward. “Oh?”

“Well, the first is you could have Eagle join the Fraternity.”

“Did you set this up?” asked Eagle to Scroll. “Like, you invited your friend over to make your pitch?”

“No,” said Barrel, not skipping a beat, “but, like, if you joined, you could be out and walking around. You could pass yourself off as a new missionary and nopony would be the wiser. And you could help Scroll with his work.”

“Wait, I’d have to pretend to be someone from Equestria?” asked Eagle. “But I don’t know anything about it!”

“So?” asked Barrel.

“Neither does anyone else on this island…” said Scroll, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “But it might be difficult to convince Quake. I’d have to spin a few things in order for him not to suspect. I mean, he’d wonder why he didn’t know about this in advance. I guess I could forge a letter, but…”

“Hm…” said Barrel. “Well, I dunno, we can think on that some more. The second idea is, well, we move you to a different hiding spot. Like, we’ve got a cellar you could hide in.”

“But that’d mean we’d have to haul him through town,” said Scroll. “At best we’d be hauling a large box into the tavern. Ponies would notice.”

“Well, maybe we don’t even need to go through town,” said Barrel. “There are a ton of abandoned shacks and stuff in the forest. We could hide him in one of those. Though, uh… Visiting might be difficult to explain and someone might stumble and…” He paused, staring blankly ahead. “Shit. Nevermind, that… That’s not a good idea.

“Great,” said Eagle. “Great, great. Good to know I’m still dead.”

“Eagle, be nice,” said Scroll.

Eagle laughed. “Be nice? I’m crippled and I’m one screw-up away from being fucking dead! Hell, I could be dead without doing anything if your soldier friends decide to rat us out.”

“I’m trying to help!” said Scroll.

“Guys, guys!” said Barrel. “Okay, maybe these ideas aren’t perfect, but we can think of something.”

“Mrm mrm mrm mrm,” said Gwynna.

Barrel looked at her.

“Mrm mrm,” she said.

“What did she say?” asked Scroll.

“Now we’re asking the bird,” said Eagle. “I’m going back to my box.” He lowered himself down and shut the lid.

“She’s asking how long it will take for Eagle’s wings to heal,” said Barrel.

There was a pause, and Eagle opened the lid of the box, peeking out.

“Hard to say for certain,” said Scroll, nodding his head from side to side. “Broken wings… could be a couple of weeks.”

“Well, what if he flies to Equestria after he heals?” asked Barrel.

Everyone was silent, thinking to themselves. Gwynna dipped her beak into her cup of cider.

“He could tell the Fraternity what’s going on,” mused Scroll. “We could get help.”

“Uhh, I’m not the smartest pony in this room,” said Eagle. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to fly all the way from here to Equestria.”

“Oh,” said Barrel. “You can’t?”

“I’m wearing a cast,” said Eagle, shiting so that his bound wings were more visible. “You know… something that takes time.”

“Oh yeah…” said Barrel, now stumped.

“Wait,” said Scroll. For the first time in a while, a cheeky, satisfied grin started to crawl across his face. “Maybe he won’t have to.”

___________

It was about an hour later when Clip came down from his high. He seemed to crash completely and went straight to taking a nap. White set him down on his pillow before sitting down next to him on the bed.

Crazy mare puts Celestia-knows-what into him, he thought, looking down at Clip. Thankfully, the colt seemed to be happily sleeping, but White was still worried.

He worried a lot lately. He worried if Scroll was safe. He worried about Tap, and Barrel, and Buzz. He had no way of knowing anything outside of the floating castle. And as things had turned out, it seemed he couldn’t trust what he thought he knew of what was going on inside the floating castle.

It seemed his only real ally was Brother Shine, who was in a lot of self-pitying lethargy. Then White realized that he was falling into the same state.

What am I going to do?

“Mm…” murmured Clip.

White looked over at him and saw him yawning, raising his head and blinking slowly.

“Woah…” said Clip. “My head felt funny.”

“You okay?” asked White.

Clip sat up and stretched his mouth open wide, giving a long yawn. He blinked and shook his head. “Yeah, I think so.” He looked around, before sinking back into the red velvet covers. “Ohhhh… these are sooooo comfy…” he said, letting out a contented hum. “Like… the total best.”

White chuckled.

At length, Clip pulled himself up with a great deal of effort. “So, what are we gonna do?” he asked, propping himself up against one of the large plush pillows.

“What?”

“I mean, we’re back together,” said Clip. “We can do something.”

“Well, I don’t…”

“We should build a boat!”

White paused, wondering for a second if the drug was still doing something to Clip’s head. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“You know,” said Clip. He sat up on his haunches and traced a shape in the air with his hooves. “A boat. I was…” He stopped and looked around, as if looking for someone who was listening in. He leaned forward and gestured for White to lower his head to his mouth. He whispered in White’s ear, “I was talking with Carpenter about it. We’re gonna build a boat and get the earth ponies off of here.”

White paused. It sounded like a crazy idea.

“I mean, we can make a raft or a boat, get some ponies on it, get down to the water…” said Clip. “We could do it at night, when nopony’s looking. The castle moves, so by the time anypony notices they’re gone, they could be far away.” He looked up at White. His expression, ever hopeful, seemed to falter just a little. “White… White, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, Clip. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Are you going to give up?” asked Clip, scooting up next to him and prodding his side.

“Well…” said White. He looked away from Clip. He couldn’t take those probing eyes. Everything about the boat idea sounded like there were a hundred ways it could go wrong… He thought about Duster, who’d been shot, and who could still die for all White knew.

“You have to do something,” said Clip.

“I will, Clip,” said White, putting his hoof on Clip’s shoulder. “I will. I just…  I don’t know about boats. I don’t know if that’s something that can work.”

Clip seemed deflated. “Something has to work…”

“I know, Clip,” said White.

___________

Brother Scroll walked back to town with a newfound purpose. He had to find Trigger Mark and talk to him. Unfortunately, he didn’t really know where to look. He could check Quake’s camp, but he would rather not put himself close to him unless he absolutely had to.

He made his way to Tap’s tavern. He didn’t have any real way of knowing if Trigger Mark would be there, but some soldiers might be there, and someone there might be able to tell him.

Or at least he could talk to Tap and see if his idea wasn’t completely stupid. She’d probably think it was.

The snow had finally been all cleared out of town by now. He wondered if Tap would be annoyed that this would cut into her water sales. Serves her right, thought a small voice in his head. Then, ashamed that he’d think something spiteful like that, Scroll shook his head, trying to put his mind to what he had to do.

The tavern, as it turned out, wasn’t particularly busy. There was the usual crowd of earth ponies there for their relaxation after work, but no throng of soldiers.

He looked around and saw Barrel at the counter, who waved to him. Tap, however, was nowhere to be seen. Scanning the room, however, he did see Trigger Mark seated at a corner booth.

Lucky me… thought Scroll, as he began to approach. He thought of what he meant to ask as he approached, knowing what he wanted, but not exactly how to word it. “Hello!” he said nervously, stepping over to his table. “Mind if I sit down?”

Trigger Mark looked up at him. “I suppose not,” he said, eyeing Scroll suspiciously as he sat down. “So.”

“So!” said Scroll, leaning over the table. “Iiiiiiiii might need, uh… a little favor.”

“No, Scroll.”

“Trigger Mark, just listen—”

“Scroll, I’m not sticking my neck out on the line for some scheme you’ve got hatched,” said Trigger Mark. “You have a history—”

“No, some of my ideas do work,” said Scroll. “And even when White and I had a plan that didn’t work out, it was at least worth trying.”

Trigger Mark sighed.

“Trigger Mark, this will make us both happy.”

“Fine,” said Trigger Mark. “I’m listening.”

“I want to get him off of the island.”

“What?” asked Trigger Mark, looking up sharply. “What, so he can go back to Storm?”

“No-no-no-no!” said Scroll. “I’m sending him to Equestria.”

Trigger Mark regarded him with a suspicious curiosity, before he leaned back in his seat, folding his forelegs. “Okay. How?”

Scroll took a deep breath and leaned forward, motioning for Trigger Mark to incline his ear.

“We get a cloud,” Scroll whispered. Then he leaned back, a pleased grin on his face.

Trigger Mark looked at him, slowly sat up, and asked, “Excuse me?”

“A cloud,” said Scroll. “Once his wings are strong enough he can ship out on it like a raft.”

“How are you going to get a cloud?” asked Trigger Mark.

“Okay, okay…” said Scroll. “So, what I’m thinking is I can write to the Fraternity, tell them that because the earth ponies out here don’t really know pegasi too well…”

“I think we know pegasi well enough.”

“Uh-uh-uh!” said Scroll, raising a hoof as one of his ‘I’m so smart’ expressions lighting up on his face. “That’s the racism talking—I can send for some teaching materials. Now, I’m thinking that the Fraternity could send a small cloud.”

“Okay,” said Trigger Mark, downing his drink. “So what’s the part you want my help with?”

“The part where Quake thinks that this is stupid,” said Scroll. “If he mentions that, maybe you could suggest, I dunno, that learning about clouds and the pegasi magic will help in fighting them or something.”

Trigger Mark looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath.

“Mark, this gets Eagle off of the island without hurting anyone.”

“Okay,” said Trigger Mark. “I’ll help you with this. If Quake starts asking questions, I’ll vouch.” He leaned forward into his drink. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I…” Scroll muttered. He looked up and saw as the door to the cellar opened. Tap came in, balancing some bottles of beer on her back.

She seemed to notice him immediately. “Well, what are we doing here?” she asked, approaching the table. “Didn’t expect to see you out here. Thought you’d be busy. Unless you’re talking business.”

“Something like that,” said Trigger Mark, finishing his drink. “I’ll back you on this, Scroll. You’d better know what you’re doing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

“Don’t forget to pay,” said Tap.

Trigger Mark placed some coins on the table and left the bar.

Tap took his place at the table. “Well, how goes things with your surprise guest?”

“Okay,” said Scroll, shrugging. “You know, I’m one dumb step away from dying horribly, but apart from that?”

Tap chuckled. “Is that what you were talking about with Trigger Mark?”

“Yeah,” said Scroll. He took a deep breath and leaned over the table, rubbing his temple with a hoof. “I think I have a solution, but… it’s a bit of a longshot.”

“So what is it? Refit the giant trampoline to launch him off the island? Build a submarine out of spare cookingware?” she asked

“Something like that,” said Scroll, shrugging.

Tap leaned in. “I know Barrel stopped by earlier.”

“You do?” asked Scroll. He sat up, a little surprised. “You’re not… mad?”

“No, I guess not,” she said. “I guess…” She sighed. “You know, you and White were the first real friends he ever had. I think that means something. I know that… I still get scared, thinking of how he got shot.” She paused. “But I can’t always protect him, and I think I have to realize that. Sometimes you just have to trust someone, I guess.”

“I won’t put him in someplace he might be in danger,” said Scroll quickly. “I want everything to be as safe as possible.”

“I know,” she said, nodding slowly. “And I appreciate that. I think… blaming you for him getting shot wasn’t fair.”

“It’s okay,” said Scroll. “You acted like that because you care about him.” He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about Carpenter and how that’s kind of why he tried to, well…” His voice trailed off and the smile fell from his face. “Sorry, bad example.”

Tap laughed.

“I need to see Buzz,” said Scroll, getting up from his chair. “See how he’s doing.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Tap. She turned to the counter. “Think you can handle it while I go on an errand with Scroll?” she asked.

Barrel nodded happily, while Gwynna squawked.

“He says she needs a place to stay,” muttered Tap to Scroll. “Something about a divorce.”

“I heard,” said Scroll.

The two of them made their way out of the tavern, into the streets. The day was ending, and the sun was falling. The first stars of the evening began to peek through the sky, twinkling down.

“I never get used to it here,” said Scroll, looking up. “No clouds. Every night the sky is just full of stars. It just… feels oddly peaceful and big.”

“Clouds in the sky all the time?” asked Tap. “Maybe it’s best I don’t take that offer of yours. I’d get paranoid and lose my shit.”

“Eheh,” Scroll chuckled.

“So what are you doing out here?” asked Tap.

“Well, I thought I should pay Buzz a visit,” said Scroll. “I’m worried about him. I mean, I don’t know what I’d do if it happened to me.”

“They way you used to hang on to White it looks to me like it did,” said Tap.

Scroll slowed down and stopped. “Well, I guess you’re right,” he said. He laughed a little. “Well, how do I look like I’ve been holding up.”

Tap laughed. “You could be doing a lot worse. I mean, you could’ve had a complete meltdown and sat on your bed sucking your hoof.”

“Well if that’s the standard,” said Scroll dryly. “Flying colours.” He stopped for a moment. “I knew a girl in high school named Flying Colours. Top athlete in the school.”

“Pegasus?” Tap asked.

“Yeah. And she idolized Rainbow Dash. I… don’t remember if that was actually her name, or if she just decided to call herself that to be like her hero.”

“She’s one of your heroes too, isn’t she?” asked Tap. “Her and the others?”

Scroll nodded. “Well, yes…”

“Maybe I should re-read the books. It was fun to read about their adventures,” she said. “Do you have other heroes? Aside from them?”

“Well…” Scroll paused. “In real life? It’s not something I ever really thought about. I always sort of kept to myself, not really thinking about other ponies. Not before joining the Fraternity.” He chewed on the thought some more. “I know White’s personal hero is Top Banana.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“He went to our high school. He’s also with the Fraternity. Apparently his missions have been big successes.”

“Missions?” asked Tap. “Like, more than one? You do that? I thought you only went on one.”

“Well… we’re supposed to do one,” said Scroll. “Ponies can volunteer for more. I dunno, I’ll think about that more once this one’s over.”

Tap chuckled.

The snow was gone, but the ground was still cold to walk on. Scroll’s hooves felt nippy, but at least they didn’t feel wet. Always look on the bright side, eh? he thought, giggling a little to himself. That’s what White would say.

They walked up to Carpenter’s old shop. It looked like a carpenter’s shop, a nondescript, simple wooden building. It looked cozy and humble, like the house of someone who didn’t take visitors a whole lot. On the door was a wooden plank with “CLOSD, go a way” scribbled hastily on it in what looked like black charcoal.

Scroll gave Tap an erstwhile glance before knocking on the door.

“Go away…” grumbled Buzz’s voice from inside.

“It’s me, Scroll,” said Scroll.

There was a pause, before the door opened. Buzz peeked out, looking worn out. “What do you want?” he sighed.

“Just felt like checking in,” said Scroll. “Seeing how you’re holding up and all that.”

“Okay, I guess,” said Buzz, opening the door. He stepped aside and let them walk in.

Scroll looked around. There was very little room to walk around—only a path from the door to the desk behind the counter. Everything else was covered in chairs and tables and small cabinets and doors.

“It’s been busy…” said Buzz, walking back to the desk. “But I got money. So… I make stools.” He made a grand, sweeping gesture over the contents of his shop; or as grand a sweeping gesture as a colt could make. “So many fucking stools…”

He didn’t look directly at Scroll or Tap. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to Scroll. Maybe he was just tired.

Aren’t we all tired, Scroll thought. “If there’s ever anything you need, you can always come by the library,” he said.

“Yeah, it’d be nice if you had something I could use,” said Buzz.

“Touche…” said Scroll. “Well… anyway, thanks for the box. You have no idea how much I needed that.”

“Well, hey, I’m pretty good at boxes,” said Buzz.

“Scroll could probably use a new door,” said Tap. “His got knocked in.”

Buzz looked up. “Huh?”

Scroll started. “What? N-no. I don’t, I couldn’t ask—”

“Hey, just saying,” said Tap.

“I can’t pay for that,” said Scroll. “I’m not, uh, I’m not the one who should be asking favors.”

“I’ll pay for it,” said Tap.

Scroll looked at her, surprised. “What?”

“Well…” Tap said, tilting her head from side to side, weighing the thought. “We’ll see if I can afford it. I should have enough spare change for a little favor. Unless you’d just keep a busted door.”

“Well…”

Tap chuckled. She looked over to Buzz, was slouched against the back of his oversized seat, looking at them as though waiting for a confirmation on what was going to happen. She approached him. “Look, I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to lose your family and feel like you’re on your own. It feels heavy.” She smiled warmly and looked back at Scroll. “I’ve held up. You two are holding up.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” said Scroll.

“We can help each other,” said Tap. “I mean, didn’t you tell me it’s okay to get help from friends?”

Scroll smiled. “Well, the book did.”

Tap shrugged. “Well, same thing, really.”

By the time Scroll and Tap left the shop, Scroll wasn’t completely convinced he could accept the offer of help. Still, he was glad he was able to visit and glad that Tap was there with him.

“Thanks for the help there,” said Scroll. “I was worried I didn’t have enough to say.”

“Well, that’s just something I’m better at than you are,” said Tap, giving a toss of her mane.

They stepped out into the street, beginning to make their way back to the tavern, when they heard a voice.

“Scroll?”

They turned. They saw Gunner standing there. He had deep bags under his eyes, and he took slow, heavy steps towards them.

“G… Gunner?” asked Scroll.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” said Gunner. He walked with a slouch, and his steps were slow, heavy, and tentative. He almost seemed to sway from side to side. “I’ve been thinking. I didn’t get any sleep after we left.”

“I, uh, well…” Scroll said, looking at Tap. She shrugged, before he looked back at Gunner. “Well, you kind of caught me by surprise.”

“It’s important,” said Gunner. His face fell, if that were even possible. “Please…”

Scroll watched him. Like with Buzz, he was at a bit of a loss for words. “Yes?” was all he could say.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Gunner. His face gazed down, just below their eye level. It almost seemed like he wasn’t looking at them at all. “About… what happened at the library. About last night. About last night. And about White and what happened and why that…” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“About why…?” said Scroll. He watched the strange, disoriented soldier before him. He wasn’t sure whether he should approach him or keep his distance. Gunner, however, took the initiative and took a step forward.

“It, it happened because of what I did. I shot that cannon and it hit the tower. And then that unicorn ended up on the shore, and then when Quake came… White stood there in front of them to keep him from that unicorn. And then Quake tried to kill him, and he had to run away. And I just think. If I hadn’t shot that cannon, that unicorn wouldn’t have been on the shore. And then White wouldn’t have put himself between him and Quake. And then White would still be here.”

Scroll looked again at Tap, before looking back at Gunner. “Is… is that why you’re upset? Because you feel guilty about it? I mean, uh…” He coughed and cleared his throat. “I understand, but it’s not like you could have known—”

“But it’s not about knowing, is it?” asked Gunner. He gave a pained smile. “I mean, it’s not about, about predicting the future. It’s just… It happened because White did the right thing. And he did that because I did the wrong thing.”

Scroll opened his mouth to say something, but Gunner desperately spoke over him.

“And I didn’t just do the wrong thing there, I’ve done the wrong thing, I’ve been… Scroll, I don’t like who I am.”

Scroll balked. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully for him, he didn’t have to.

“I, I’ve hurt a lot of ponies,” Gunner continued. “And usually I can justify it, like, they’re trying to hurt us. I have to. But then, then last night…” He said. “I saw… Oh, fuck. I, I can’t be right. If I’m right, if that was right, then…”

“Scroll?” asked Tap, leaning into him. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Scroll cleared his throat. “Well…” he said. “Do you… do you want to give our ways a chance?”

Gunner nodded. He took a step forward. He seemed shorter now than he usually did. “I want to do the right thing,” he said. “I don’t want to be this… this thing I am now.”

“You’re not a bad pony, Gunner,” said Scroll.

“But I’m not a good one,” said Gunner. He knelt at Scroll’s hooves. “Please,” he said. “Help me.”

Scroll smiled and put a hoof on Gunner’s shoulder.

And Tap looked at him and saw something. Somehow, for the first time in his life, Scroll seemed powerful. The image in front of her; the kneeling soldier, the missionary with the gentle smile. She had never seen that from Scroll. Somehow she had imagined she could see White do that, but Scroll? That had never crossed her mind. The slowly dawning shock filled her with the slightest sense of awe, and the twinge of fear that comes with that.

And she thought, if only for a second, that maybe, if he had this kind of power, maybe he could make some kind of change happen.

“If you want to help me and our mission,” said Scroll. “You’re welcome. But Gunner…”

Gunner looked up.

“I don’t need someone to judge himself, to tell me about how he’s a bad pony. I don’t need you to, to lose sleep at night over the things you’ve done. I…” He paused for a moment. “I know I said some harsh things. I was angry earlier. But what I need now most of all, is a friend.”

___________

White sat alone in the dark meeting room, seated at one end of a cold stone table. He watched the end of the hall as a stern soldier stood watch over him, peering over his shoulder. There would be no talk of sabotaging machines.

“Neeeext,” said White.

He wasn’t sure what the walls were made of. Granite or limestone. Something like that. Geology was never his strongest subject. Something grey. Having come here from the room with all that bright red velvet and the mahogany desk, it gave him a headache. He could barely focus.

The door opened and his next interview subject entered. Another pony for White to listen to. Another pony to hurl some insults while White said some empty platitudes. He’d come to realize that he wasn’t there to pacify the earth ponies there anymore. He was a fall guy. Someone for them to lash out at so that the actual overlords didn’t have to worry about someone attacking them with their worktools, at least for now.

“Well, finally,” said the earth pony.

White looked up at him as he sat down. It was Carpenter.

“Been waiting for a while to talk to you,” said Carpenter. “Though now I guess I didn’t have to.”

White stared at him for a moment. “I’m sorry?”

“Well, I just wanted to tell you the kid was alright,” said Carpenter, shrugging. “Guess he escaped wherever he was being held in. Came to me and hid out in my quarters.”

The guard tensed up and looked threateningly at him. “That won’t be taken lightly. Prisoner contraband is—”

Carpenter cut him off. “Hey, fuck you. The kid’s not even with me anymore.”

“Please, can we…” White sighed, exasperated. “Please just tone it down a notch.”

“Anyway,” said Carpenter. “I heard about what you did to that bastard.”

“You mean the dentistry…”

Carpenter snorted. “I mean breaking his jaw. I gotta admit, I don’t think I expected it of you. I would’ve expected you to just stand there and give a speech. I was wrong. Good on ya.”

White looked at him blankly. “So I have your approval now, I guess? That… that’s what it took to get you to like me? I had to get violent?”

Carpenter breathed out through his nose, looking at him. He paused for a moment before adding, “I’m just saying you did what I’d do in your place.” He folded his legs on the table. “It’s what any father would do. Maybe now you can understand why I did what I did.”

White looked at him, silent for a moment. “Maybe…” he said. “Maybe I can understand the way you felt. Just how far you can find yourself going when you think that someone you care about’s been hurt.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Because what I did was wrong,” said White. He was quiet. “I… I can’t do that again. I can’t let myself do that again…”

Carpenter sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not the first time. Remember old Driver?”

“I’m sorry…?” asked White.

“Green pony. Guy who had Clip running the garbage route. He was out for like a day after you knocked him in the head with a salt block.”

White’s stomach sank.

“It was kind of funny. He went to Quake to complain about it, but Quake must’ve been busy beating someone up or something, ‘cause he didn’t care.” Carpenter smiled. “So hey, giving that horner bastard a bit of magical fuckery isn’t too far out of your reach.”

“That… that’s not who I am.”

“Quite frankly, the cunt had it coming to him. You did more than you should’ve by fixing him up again. You’re beating yourself up for no reason. ”

“It is not no reason!” said White. “I… what if I do something like that again? What if I can’t make it right?”

“Then the next time some fucker hurts someone close to you, just do nothing,” said Carpenter in a low and sarcastic voice. “Maybe then you’ll feel all fucking moral.”

White didn’t say anything. He just sulked over his desk.

“So…” said Carpenter.

“Anything you feel like talking about?” asked White.

“I’d feel more like it if this jackass weren’t here,” said Carpenter, nodding disdainfully to the guard.

“Watch your tongue,” said the guard.

“Language, please,” monotoned White, “that’s a racial slur.”

“Just wanted to let you know that things could be worse,” said Carpenter. Then he went quiet for a moment. “I… was wondering. About the night we got captured.” His voice softened in concern. “Was… was Buzz…?”

“We found him,” said White, nodding. “He was hiding in the tavern. He’s alright.”

Carpenter deflated in relief. “I… guess I should thank you.”

“It’s okay,” said White. “What’s important is that your son is safe.”

“I hope he can handle himself,” said Carpenter. His eyes floated over to the wall, carried off on his own thoughts.

“Well, if he has trouble, Scroll can help him,” said White.

“If Scroll can even help himself,” said Carpenter.

“He…” said White, stopping himself. “He’s smart and he doesn’t piss off Quake the way I do. Pretty much every time we ever got in trouble was because of me. In all truth he’s probably better off than I am. He’s the one who’s… better at making things work. I just…” He looked down. “I feel like I’ve been sent up the river without a boat.”

“Excuse me?” asked Carpenter.

White looked up at him. Carpenter’s expression had changed. The casual jerk attitude had taken on a look of curiosity. And then White wondered…

Was Carpenter thinking what he thought he was? He couldn’t just ask; the guard would know. But then… White hadn’t played the lead in fifteen musicals since he got his cutie mark for bad acting.

“I said I feel like I’ve been sent up the river… without a boat,” said White. He tilted his head. “You know… when it’d be nice to have a boat in these situations, you know?” He gave an exaggerated sigh.

“I think I know exactly what you mean,” said Carpenter, slowly. “Well. Maybe I’ll talk to you later when you’re not feeling sorry for yourself.” He got up, and the guard made a threatening motion to him. “Relax, I was leaving.”

White watched as Carpenter left the room, and he wondered. Did Carpenter believe in Clip’s boat idea? Was there maybe, just maybe, some kind of chance in it? Maybe there was.

Clip, thought White, I’m not giving up.

---