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Seven years to the day had passed since the Reich’s glorious victory over the pathetic powers that ruled over the continent, and the Reich’s crimson flag hung over the heads of eight hundred million souls, both subjugated and free. From Vanhoover to Horsecow, to Canterlot itself, the Reich demonstrated its obvious, total, superiority.

Even now, parades filed through dozens of great cities, and even through some small towns. In Canterlot, a million soldiers paraded, as the fearful populace, still scarred by war peaked out at the streets. Through Cloudsdale, the Pegasi Corps both flew and marched, heads held high, weapons clenched in wings or hooves, whichever were available. Stalliongrad hid under the watchful gaze of the Heer Infantry, the detritus of the previous night’s riot already cleaned. The only evidence of the violence that had occurred was from the smoke rising in the air as the bodies of those slain by the Germanean Soldiers burned. Two million marched there.

But none of the marches could compare to the one held in Marelin. Grey uniforms were resplendent in the sun, which rose above the clouds for the first time in a month. Five million soldiers snaked through the streets of Marelin in long columns, regimental standards held high in the air for the world to see. Crimson banners marked with the Iron Cross, the Deutschenkreuz fluttered in the breeze.

The proud, glorious music was blared by bands who marched ahead of the individual units. Few knew where the music had truly come from, but a popular rumor was that it was an old song written in the Fuhrer’s homeland of Germany. The cheering reached a high as the Fuhrer’s own regiment, the 1st Eindringlingesturmbrigaden passed by, saluting their Fuhrer.

Overhead, the various Pegasi of the Luftangriffsabteilung flew past, causing a large breeze. To the crowd’s delight, they zoomed downwards, simulating strafing runs and airstrikes on the people they had fought for. Panzers rumbled through as the Panzergrendiers passed through. Several of the younger Germaneans stood in awe as the famous Panzer VIII Maus tanks shook the very earth. These house sized behemoths of war already convincing many that they wished to be in the Panzer Korps when they came of age. In all, there were a thousand of these immense machines passing through Marelin: A ridiculous, but effective number, to be sure. Newly designed bipedal gunnery platforms strode along, looking like strange, metal animals. These remained in prototype phase, and would enter full deployment at the Fuhrer’s discretion. Thousands of other tanks filed through the streets, and the cheers became deafening.

From a building, the operatives Geheime Reichspolizei nodded, satisfied. They had been monitoring a specific Earth Pony for some time. As the sun rose in the sky, it became evident that the Earth Pony, was not, in fact a pony. It was another of those Zebra spies, disguised magically. Within minutes, the “Earth Pony” had disappeared into the GRP safe houses that were scattered about. Cold blooded torture took place, answers extracted, and a body, flayed, exsanguinated, and scorched, was quietly disposed of. No one but a select few knew of this horror. No one heard the screams over the music, the marching, or the “heil”-ing. Just as well.

The Geheime Reichspolizei did not like interruptions.

High above the roiling crowds, Dieter Heinrich, Fuhrer of the immortal Germanean Reich, smiled. His infamous knife imbedded cleanly in a map of the world. It pointed to one country, and the light made it seem as though the map itself bled. Dieter turned, eyes cold, and prepared.

Author's Note

Sorry it took such a long time. This is a bonus chapter to the story that started it all. I hope you enjoy it.