Perhaps his people have unhappy memories of war. It would have to be recent—Equestria was certainly not without conflict, but that was mostly buried in the long-distant past. It was something that was covered in the history books, but they said nothing about the courtyards running red with blood, or the sickening thud of pegasi dropping onto the battlements; they never said a word about the stench of a battlefield, nor the crows that followed her father’s army. The history books did not speak of the pain of seeing young eyes gleaming out from under silvery helmets, only to be consumed by the funeral pyre that night. She could still see Clover’s broken body lying sprawled across the steps in front of the Water Gate, the splinters of the door mute testament to the unicorn’s last act in life. 