It was late in the evening in Manehatten and a young, brown unicorn was on his was back home after a long day at work. Bolted Bight held in his hooves a letter from his brother, who had volunteered for service a little over a year ago against King Sombra. The sun was low over the harbor, casting an amber orange hue over the ocean, as he trotted past the massive ships of imports. To his left, across the road, were smelly factories and industrial buildings that rose to meet the sky.
It was a beautiful evening, and he paused for a moment to acknowledge it. The air was clean, and for a brief moment he felt as if he were back on the front porch of his parent's firework shop. He reveled in the moment. Soon it passed though, and he glanced back at the paper from his brother. They wrote each other periodically to check up on eachother.
Bight was perhaps one of the most informed ponies in all of Manehatten, as to the condition of the war effort. And he knew it wasn't good. Manehatten itself probably produced five times more equipment than the army actually needed.
As the letter read, Armored Ember, his brother, was in a unit of the Canterlot corps. They had been giving more and more territory to Sombra's forces simply because they weren't in the condition to fight them. The would stand off for a week, then retreat a mile. Then stand off a week, then retreat.
Most of the letter was him complaining about the lack of leadership and terrible conditions for the soldiers, no wonder so many ponies chose to work the factories instead of on the front lines. At least Equestrian products were allowing other nations to combat Sombra to a degree. No pony had won a battle against his forces yet.
As he rounded a corner to head to his apartment, he folded up the note and placed it in his saddlebag. Ponies were everywhere on the streets in the evening, as many were just getting off work, others were getting ready to take over the night shifts.
He trotted along, not in a particular rush, but he was eager to get home. When Bight did make it home, he found his roommate, Flintlock, reclined on a cushion, reading a pamphlet. Their apartment was on the third floor and was built pre-war. An old mare rented it out to them for a generous amount. It still took both of them to pay it though.
Flintlock looked up as Bight opened the door. "Hey, you're home early. Boss let you off?"
Bight shook his head. "You know old Crab Cakes never lets anypony off early. No, I just came straight home today."
Usually, Bight would go find somewhere quiet to sit and draw schematics in his journal. One thing that not many ponies knew about him, only Flint, was that he was a novice inventor, but liked to dream big. Before the war, he'd tried to get a few small inventions published, but wasn't very successful. Looking back now, they were probably for the best. None of his earlier inventions would really help anypony.
Flintlock shrugged then went back to his reading. It was a government pamphlet, all about how well Equestria was doing. It was in an effort to keep ponies happy and hopeful, but everpony knew it was all exaggerated.
Bight had left his journal at home today. He'd just forgotten it. He sat at his desk and opened up his window. He inhaled deeply, beneath the industrial odors and atmosphere, there was still the cool ocean breeze.
He sat down and flipped through his journal to an empty page. Usually something would come to him, but after a few minutes, he set it aside. He opened up a drawer and pulled out a large map of Equestria. The lines of the forces had been drawn out every time he had an update on something. Using a marker, he added a thin indentation outside Canterlot and sighed. At this rate, less than a month and Sombra would control the old capitol.
Equestrian's weren't brainless. When the front lines started to come too close, the capitol of Equestria was moved to Baltimare. Or so it was on paper. Most official business still ran out of the Royal Palace itself.
With a sigh, he got up.
"I'm gonna put dinner on."
Flintlock had picked up a real book now. He worked at a cloth mill, winding wool and cotton into the string and threads that were then cut into the uniforms that every soldier wore. Neither one of them were happy with their postions, but it beat the front lines.
"Okay, there's some Smith Sauce in the fridge and Top's Turnips in the pantry," Flintlock said.
He put both of the cans on the cheap stove. The applesauce can had a picture of a smiling old mare, and the diced turnip can had a picture of an orange pony holding a red, bulbous vegetable. He put them on to boil. Before long, they were ready.
When he returned to the living room to call Flintlock in to eat, he was just in time to see a strong gust of wind yank his journal out the window.
In a mad panic, he dashed over and tried to grab it. He missed with his mouth, so he wrapped it in his magic. Then next thing he knew, however, there was no floor. Uh oh.
He fell two stories. Fortunately the old mare had the awning out. He hit it and bounced off, landing with a 'thud' in the middle of the street. By now, the number of ponies had decreased and the sun was pretty much down, night beginning to envelope the city.
The next thing Bight knew, there was a small crowd of ponies around him, and Flintlock had his head sticking out of their window.
"Are you alright?" "Should we call an ambulance?" "Somepony check his pulse." The ponies around weren't quite sure what to do.
"I'm alright," Bight said to the crowd. "I'm fine, just winded. Where's my journal?"
A yellow mare trotted up, holding the book in her mouth. She was flipping through the pages.
"Did you design these?" she asked.
Bight nodded. "Yes, now can I please have it back?"
She handed the book over.
"You know, there's a contest going on in all the major cities in Equestria. The government is looking for the brightest and best inventors in the land. I was going enter myself, but nothing I could design could compare to anything you've come up with."
Bight gave her a look of confusion. "I haven't heard of this contest," he said.
The mare pulled a pamphlet out of her saddlebags. "Here's the flier if you decide to enter. Are you sure you're not hurt?"
Bight nodded again. "I'm fine, thanks."
He was still shaken from the fall, and surprised he hadn't even broken a limb. He headed back upstairs for dinner. As the adrenaline rush faded, his chest began to feel bruised. He considered himself lucky that he hadn't been hurt worse.
Upon looking at the flier that the mare gave him, he realized this could be just the chance he needed. The address for the competition was just around the corner. He would head to the government building in the morning.
Thank you for reading this first chapter. If you like it, leave a comment and tell me what you think.
/)