Legio IX Hispania (22) (Patreon)

They took the train.

Despite Stalwart's initial skepticism, there was no denying the practicality or utility of a ride, instead of weeks or even months of hiking. Though he had refused to take the cat's word of where and how to travel, Lyra was a very different story.

The tiny mining town of Rubble, where they boarded the train, felt a little like stepping into a strange, half-real version of the past, where Equestria still ruled proudly and all the evil powers that assaulted her had all failed. The flag had a green heart instead of Celestia and Luna's cutie marks, but that was the only overt sign.

There were lots of smaller things, even to Lyra's magically-deadened senses. Ponies watched each other with suspicion. When they approached, every eye turned to stare.

Lyra spoke for them, ordering tickets to Los Pegasus at the station using bits they took from the caravan. They made the exchange, then settled into an empty wooden bench near the edge to wait.

Eyes watched them from every dark corner. Nervous ponies too young to work the mine peered out from around nearby buildings, while the train station's conductor took slow, deliberate notes on a pad of paper while staring directly at them.

"This cloak is stupid," Stalwart muttered from his seat, opening the hood to peer at her. "There's no way messengers would come this way. They can't know what I look like."

She shook her head once. But it wasn't her who answered—it was the cat, whispering up from inside his saddlebags.

He got a little stronger each day, but somehow still hadn't run away. Despite many opportunities, the changeling called Thorax remained in their company.

Stalwart continued to keep his word in exchange, offering the creature a warm place to sleep at night, and whatever food and water they could spare. The cat even wore a collar now, one that Stalwart Hope had made with his own crafts.

Could changelings really keep promises, just like that?

"It's not how you look, it's how you feel. You radiate aggression, defiance, confidence. Too strong for a changeling. Any bug will know you are... dangerous. Maybe a rebel, or rich food no one has found yet. Cloak does nothing."

"Good." He lowered the hood, shaking out his short purple mane. "Wanted a better look at your towns, anyway. This is..." He stared past the station, at the tight buildings, and little string of electric lights running towards the mine beyond. "Who climbs up there to light those candles when they burn low?"

"Candles?" the cat squeaked, curious. "I didn't see any..."

"Nopony does," Lyra said. "Those aren't candles, they're light bulbs. Pegasi invented them, a... sort of substitute for unicorn magic. They go bad eventually, every few years or so. Don't regenerate their light like a proper glowstone crystal."

Before he could ask more, a steady rumbling from behind them jolted Stalwart to his hooves. The cat mewed in protest from inside his pack, probably squished by one of the other blankets on the top layer. Stalwart ignored it. He might've drawn his sword, if Lyra didn't rest a leg on his.

"Relax. There's no danger."

"Something's coming," he whispered, voice low and sharp. "Can't you hear it? I see... from there, through the trees. It's coming quickly!"

"Yeah, it's supposed to." Lyra pressed closer to him, touching her head beneath his. "Trains are safe, I promise. They're here to transport ponies and metal down from the town, that's all."

Stalwart remained alert, his body tense and muscles rigid, as the train pulled into the station. Even without changeling senses, Lyra felt his terror in every little motion—every breath.

Until the train finally came to a stop, and its doors opened. A handful of “ponies” stepped out, leaving the way clear for them.

"Back car," said the conductor, as soon as they were inside. "No other passengers, so you get an upgrade. Private suite."

Lyra nodded her gratitude, guiding Stalwart through the narrow hallways to the indicated location.

The train itself was in far better shape than anything that pulled into Appleloosa. Its wood floors were still shiny, none of its windows boarded. There were glittering bottles of liquid in the serving car. When they reached their private suite, Lyra melted at the sight.

It was easily the most comfortable accommodations she'd seen since... since Equestria. A real bed against the wall, fresh sheets and all. A real shower, with soap waiting in a little packet beside it. Just this once, she wouldn't let herself get caught up imagining what sort of awful things might happen in this room. Did changelings bring their victims here to “harvest” love?

Today alone, she would put those thoughts aside.

"Wash first," she suggested, once they had their belongings hung on the overhead racks. Stalwart removed the sword from the bag, keeping it across one of the seats. Thorax made his own way out, hopping onto an empty cushion near the window and curling up under the heater.

Maybe he's waiting for us to fall asleep, then he'll sneak off and tell them who we are.

Promise or no promise, keeping him prisoner was a mistake. But how could she tell Stalwart that without the changeling overhearing? If they had any safety at all, it was because the changeling thought he could get more by waiting than by running off immediately.

"It was two days to Los Pegasus by train before. Want to keep the place clean."

He nodded once. "Is there a basin of water, somewhere? I know there can be no aqueduct aboard a moving wagon."

"Shower," she said, flicking on the bathroom light, and stepping inside. The quarters here were even more luxurious than she could've afforded before her world ended. Hot water came on almost instantly, pouring down overhead in a wonderful stream. "You can—" She trailed off awkwardly, as Stalwart followed her in.

There was room by design—this was a couple's suite. Since when was Stalwart so forward?

He didn't touch her, except incidentally, moving into the flow. "The steam outside—the fire warming this? How much water is stored over our heads?"

He closed his eyes, relaxing into the flow just as she did.

You're used to plumbing, but you don't know anything about how it should work. Her primitive friend seemed a little less so the more they spoke, occupying some strange middle-ground between civilization and ancient history. Logic one moment, brutal violence the next.

"And this is... yes, soap." It lifted into the air, hovering in his magic. "To be clean again—I almost forgot such a feeling. This is what comes of being on the run for too long."

She watched, a little envious of his ease. With magic, nowhere got missed, and you didn't leave the water with the awful taste of soap on your tongue. She certainly wasn't watching for other reasons. Between the heat and the tight quarters, she thought only of missing her magic. Nothing else.

"Right." He did notice, eventually, lowering one of the little jars. "I was going to ask how your kind used these things. I assume magic is the answer. That... gift you gave me." He reached out for the jar with one hoof, tapping up against it. "Disorienting. But I am learning."

"Yeah," she admitted. "Earth ponies and pegasi use... brushes. See them hanging there? Long ones. Earth ponies bathe communally, or they used to. Easier to help somepony else than do it yourself. Unicorns don't have that problem."

"The legion did likewise. A proper bathhouse is essential to a strong, healthy army. Turn around, I can help you."

Stalwart Hope had the magical dexterity of a colt. But his sincerity was there, and the warm water never seemed to run out. He was at least gentle, if not particularly accurate the first time.

"When this war is over, I know some in the second cohort who would love to know how you heat so much water while moving," he said, when they were finally done, and returned to the suite. The air was thick with steam from such a long shower.

Lyra relished in it. No telling when she would ever feel so clean again. They had more mission ahead—rescues to make. A princess, maybe even some other important ponies. If Bonnie was still in changeling territory...

"I thought a town of your kind was remarkable. But even Archimedes would be impressed if he stepped aboard this wagon."

Lyra shrugged. She kept close to him, close enough to hide behind Stalwart if anything happened. Ignorant or otherwise, he promised safety and strength as she never hoped to find again. "If your Legion can free Equestria, bring him. There are lots of more interesting places to go than a train. But if he wants to see one of these too, he should."

The stallion yawned and stretched, before shaking himself back to alertness. The suite was unchanged, except for the steam. Thorax remained curled on a seat, the sword was nearby. The security chain on their door remained firmly in place.

"Two days by... train," he said. "In these quarters? All to ourselves?"

She touched one leg against his chest. "That's how it used to be. Train will stop a few times along the way to take on new passengers. But we can stay on until our stop, in... Los Pegasus. Why? Were you thinking of anything?"

He looked away from her, ears folding back and tail tucking between his legs. "That my form has been one of you for too long. Thoughts that should not... be entertained. Thoughts that would displease the gods."

So you're not blind. One thing about confined spaces—his scent was stronger here, in close quarters. Hers would be too. She couldn't even remember the last time the smell of a stallion hadn't made her stomach turn with disgust.

"Such as?" She moved a little closer. "Without any magic of my own... I wonder if they think you're my prisoner. They probably expect me to harvest from you."

The cat squeaked from his seat. "If they do, it won't work for very long. That love won't go anywhere. Whatever I can eat won't be enough."

It might not be a bucket of cold water, but the changeling's words worked on her almost the same way. Her thoughts calmed, and she lowered her tail slowly back where it belonged. Falling for her savior might not be strange—but a changeling train wasn't the place to explore those feelings.

"We should rest," she said instead, pulling the covers open as far as she could. "We won't have a real bed again for a while."

He watched her, unmoving. Stalwart seemed to relax just as she did. Whatever tension might be forming between them, it dissolved almost as quickly. "Is that safe, Thorax? Will we know if they attack us?"

The cat nodded, hopping up onto the edge of the bed. "Nothing will happen out here. If they want to stop you... will happen closer to our destination. Probably in Queen's Pass. Lots of ponies get processed through there, before going back to their lives."

Stalwart tucked the sword under the bed, then crawled in beside Lyra. He kept some space between them—more than some part of her wanted. But their prisoner was probably right. Any comfort she took in his company now would only warn the changelings further of their presence.

"You can turn the lights off by flicking that switch, there. Can your magic reach?"

He did, and suddenly they were in the dark. Quiet, peaceful darkness, with his scent and warmth so close to her.

"When I am not... serving such an important mission, I would like to know how that works. Smokeless light, on command. So many..." He stretched, resting his foreleg against her side. They were used to it by now, this closeness. Equestria got cold at night, and they had little shelter. Now they did, but Stalwart protected her still. "Wonders. I wish we'd marched here in a time of peace. Free exchange is so much cleaner than the alternative."

Then he slept, and said no more. That was for the best, despite her desires. Better not to alert the changelings more than they already had.